#Dianna Agron

[tisdalejunior]

DIANNA AGRON getting ready for the 67th Vienna Opera Ball at the Vienna State Opera in Vienna, Austria (February 27, 2025)

[amazingyoungwomen]

[throwbackgaylor]

june 11, 2011 | thirteen years ago

while performing ‘born this way’ at glee live in toronto, dianna agron switched out her regular shirt for one that read, “LIKES GIRLS”

[yameoto]

and christ, forgive these bones i’ve been hiding

[carsonphillips]

GLEE (3x01)

[ghost-of-an-artist-pp]

EXACTLYYYY (og tweet)

[dailywomen]

DIANNA AGRON photographed at the Biarritz Film Festival, june 2024

[blackthornluce]

Lea Michele as Rachel Berry and Dianna Agron as Quinn Fabray GLEE (2009-2015)

[kumtana]

happy 15 years of glee!

↳ new directions

[serqphites]

just two blonde bitches who make other peoples lives hell because they can’t deal with their own closeted lesbianism !

[tisdalejunior]

DIANNA AGRON arriving at the Giorgio Armani Privé Haute Couture Spring-Summer 2025 show as part of Paris Fashion Week in Paris, France (January 28, 2025)

[endiness]

DIANNA AGRON The Killers "Just Another Girl"

[forsapphics]

Dianna Agron as Quinn Fabray in season 3 of Glee (2009 - 2015)

[yameoto]

girldick!skank quinn won't leave my mind... send help

skank!quinn graffiting the girls bathroom with pornographic pictures of you and wanking over them like a total perv.

tw: semipublic masturbation, mild slutshaming

she fucked you, once, to show her mommy n daddy and herself that shes a big girl now. most earth-shattering sex of your life, not that youve ever acknowledged it, or her, since. so, she takes every opportunity to rub your nose in the dirt at how you stooped so low as to let quinn fabray stretch you out on her cock like a common whore. takes one to know one. she's painted your walls with cum and you wanna ignore her now? oh, she doesnt fucking think so.

skank!quinn staggering into a bathroom stall, half-drunk because she spent her chem period swigging ricewine under the bleachers with the skanks, so she doesn’t even check if the door is properly locked or not. doesn’t really fucking care. because how is one sight of you in the hallways enough for her to get painfully hard? in an instant she’s slumped on the toilet lid, legs swinging wide and tugging her cock out from her shitty ripped jeans and thumbing hopelessly over its dribbling tip.

its filthy and unclassy and decidedly the furthest thing from immaculate head cheerio, founder of the celibacy club, churchgoing daddy's girl; quinn fabray. which is precisely why she does it. another act of defiance. driven by all that festering resentment that’s been boiling up inside her since the dawn of time (though, it helps that you look hot enough to eat alive. that boner she's been sporting under the tied-up flannel around her waist has been fighting against her damn jeans, all day.)

strokes her member in languid, half-assed movements as her head falls back against tiled walls and her eyes flutter shut as she fantasises; about her shiny-black nails digging into the flesh of your thighs, your hips—clawing long, white scratches down your skin. her hands; sliding up your top and groping, squeezing, twisting your tits from under your bra. dragging your panties down your legs with her teeth, how your hips would jerk up as your pussy hits her tongue. your walls, tight and wet and wringing her cock.

she moans out loud as she jerks off, right then and there, not giving a single fuck who hears (though she stifles the gasp of your name all the same), biting hard against her knuckles when she feels her chest stutter, balls drawing up in her boxers and mascara-laden lashes batting uncontrollably. she cums. shoots her load all over the stall door, rutting into her fist as the creamy explosion arcs in the air, chest in rasping gasps as she aims, mouth hung open, eyes hooded with intent. takes a second to pant, slumped back, and admires her handiwork; glistening, all over a crude caricature of your naked form, penned in her black sharpie marker.

doesn’t even bother to wipe her dick off, afterwards. simply tucking herself back in her boxers and letting the aftermath soak into fabric, sticking to her skin. she smudges her hands on her jeans and struts out, cigarette balanced between teeth. she passes you by, on your way to the bathroom, and you’re completely nonplussed at the cocky, crooked upturn that fixtures her lips when her eyes meet yours, meaningfully, over those stupid sunnies of hers—until you’re shutting the stall door and face-to-face with a crude recreation of you; splattered and gleaming with dried cum. under it, in sharpied, instantly recognisable cursive loop (too delicate, for its purposes), glares one word—quinn’s.

[oscarhmtech]

Dianna Agron

[cowboylykeme]

Emily Poe…