#Lesbian GN

[alexissara]

The Marble Queen Review

The Marble Queen is a an amazingly drawn book, Gabrielle Kari is one of the greatest artists out there and her brilliant craftsmanship truly captures a unique voice in comics. I am impressed her illustrative style was captured on so many pages of the books really showing the level of heart that went into this work. The amazing use of paneling and page layout allowed for very dynamic use of the medium of comics breaking conventions from each other while feeling like bold artist moves on the page.

The book is hampered some what by being a YA book, it feels like at times there are areas that maybe would have been better served with more details but it does really edge what most YAs feel their able to do in a first novel. With lots of death, some blood and some implied sex. The pacing was a bit fast, there were moments that felt like they could have lingered longer and taken more time and perhaps the beginning starts a little slow but the romance does feel satisfying.

I think there are feelings I'd like to see explored more, the ending appears to set up a potential follow up book but it's ending is satisfying enough to simply imply potential conflict that is not needed. Anna does do a great job capturing Amelia's anxiety and the ways it manifests, the ways she tries to treat it, and how it affects her life. It is a great deception of that mental health struggle. I do wish we could have seen more into Salira's perspective, the white woman who doesn't know about being gay being the POV makes sense in the like cynical ways but I would have liked to get more into the interiority of Salira who does fall a bit into the "more butch brown woman who dots after he innocent white GF trope." I think that would have been felt a little less if we saw the world a bit more from her eyes. That said the book does do a solid job of showing plenty of fem brown women so I think it be an oversimplification to say it's just an example of that. It's worth noting only in that i know several other BIPOC women who might hesitate at it but I think we're in the clear here.

This book does feel like it in some ways compensates for being about gay women with good straight brothers who are very good boys. In general we get an idea that Salira'a kingdom is homonormative and see that in a page but from that point on basically everyone is implied to be straight in the kingdom. They leave some details vauge, some people could be bi, but this is all the reader chosing the details what we do see if M/F relationships, a set of women attracted to men, and one other woman who is confirmed to be gay but is also tied into a plot twist so I won't go into detail. That's not to day the queerness feels bad in the story it is good, it's the focus, it's great just that I felt there was maybe a little room for improvement within the bounds the story itself set's up. Unlike something like the lack of trans rep which it does not ever bother with so I wouldn't mention outside of like using it as an example for something I wouldn't take points off for. Regardless, my point is it would have been nice for like one more named character to have been queer.

I do really enjoy that both girls have some troubles in the new arranged relationship and both gave up something they love for it. I also enjoy that there is a twist for a lie that is told that while given a moment of weight is not turned into a giant drama moment and just given a tiny bit of time before the pair moved on. It felt more realistic for the two to understand why that lie was told.

Ultimately, this is a rather good story that I feel like was close to great but maybe fell behind just a little. That said I really liked it and I'd totally love prints of it and stuff. The main couple are cute and extra adorable towards the end. I like that there is a flare of action in the story and that the story had some big shifts in the status quo by the end of it. I love a lot of the sweet little moments. I love the ways it really pushed on anxiety as this thing in your life that can be consuming. It's a really great piece of art. If you enjoyed this review and want to see other reviews and support me making my own sapphic art you can support me on Patreon.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Imagine

Imagine an immortal Yandere that paints your portrait for all of eternity. Forever a slave to the overwhelming love they felt for you when you were alive. They must keep painting you or else they’re afraid they’ll forget what you look like…

It’s been eons since they had last seen you and they make sure to display your beauty in every museum and art exhibit they can in hopes to be reunited…

And once they see you again in your recent reincarnation? It’s over for you. They won’t let you carelessly slip through their fingers like before… because their love can last lifetimes.

[wesstars]

crush

cairo sweet x fem!reader (no pronouns used)

summary: when cairo goes home, what comes to mind are thoughts of you. wc: 2.3k tags: explicit, minors DNI!! all characters 18+. university au. masturbation, smoking, non-linear narrative. reader is cairo’s teaching assistant, reader described as masc presenting. a/n: let me know what y’all think :) for the vibes

masterlist

“Is Professor Miller not coming?” Winnie had just dropped into her unassigned assigned seat next to Cairo, two minutes before Greco-Roman Literary Theory started. The flipping of pages punctuated the chatter of other students waiting, a comfortable sound.

“He said he’d be gone today,” Cairo replied absently. “There’s a ‘guest lecturer,’ our teaching assistant.”

“Oh, right. Who’s that?”

Cairo shrugged. “Who knows.” 

As if on cue, the door swung open. Cairo didn’t even look up—Miller mentioned that he kept a handful of research assistants that would be there to help with the advanced reading. But honestly, Cairo wasn’t sure what they could tell her that she didn’t already know. A melodic hum fell through the air for just a moment, a chorus. 

“Good morning.” At your lilting voice, rough with the edge of 10am, Cairo started. She watched you set your messenger bag on the desk. Your white shirt pulled over your shoulders; there was a glint at your collar, a necklace peeking through. A thin watch adorned your wrist. Winnie, along with some of the class, echoed your greeting, and Cairo blinked.

Late spring afternoon draped across the furniture in Cairo’s room, the quickly waning light giving easy way to a blue hour. Dropping her bag at the door, she tore off her shirt and skirt with the confidence of one standing before a crowd. Running a hand up from her sternum to her neck, she stretched languidly, sinking down onto her bed. After so many uneventful days—when she applied to Yale, she didn’t think that there would be any uneventful days—she finally had a story to turn over in her mind. 

You. You were a mystery. Even as you had started the class with an introduction, telling Cairo you’d graduated from a middle-of-nowhere college in California and sought a writing career in Vermont before delving into research, she longed to lay out the details and pull them out from under the rug. Where did you learn to teach? Did you like to drive, or be driven? Mountains, or the sea? Where did you grow up? Was there coffee or tea in your cupboard? Cairo’s stomach burned to know. Her dark eyes burned the ceiling with smoke signals, searching for you even though you were god knows where in that seaside state.

Arching her back, Cairo let her hand travel down, palm flat against her stomach, to trace the seam of her upper thigh. As the class had progressed, your keenly observant nature did not elude Cairo. Maybe listening was something that your pedagogy instilled in you, but the way you held each student’s question in the cant of your head, an answer in your crinkling eyes, listening seemed to be in your nature. It was meticulous, the way you picked apart the class text, weaving in references and tying it all in. In that two hour lecture, Cairo learned that you watched the same way you listened. 

Balmy as it was, the humidity made her dark waves cling to her skin, and she shivered as she brushed them back, thinking of a different pair of slim hands. Your scrutiny of each student had an intention that she couldn’t quite place; a determination that thrilled her. Cairo imagined that you’d observe her the same way, that she would be the one you were most fond of. It was only natural that her own attention would draw yours onto her. Holding the weight of your envisioned gaze made Cairo’s core twist, a pleased little flush that she prayed you could see. Your affected impartiality didn’t bother Cairo—in fact, it pulled her into your shadow. In her bed, she rolled onto her stomach then her knees, shaking her hair out. 

Her hands were steady as she reached for her bedside table, thumb rolling on the wheel of her zippo as she held the cigarette to her lips. Cairo took a drag, blowing out neat smoke rings as she settled back on her heels. The skin of her own fingers was cool against her lips, and when she took the smoke away, she studied the pattern of her lipstick on the white paper as she had so many times before.

She’d watched, unabashedly and unafraid of being caught, as you drummed your fingers on the chalk tray. Would your fingertip be soft or work hardened if it pressed down her tongue? Would your skin carry the stain of her red lip as deeply, as obediently, as the malleable wrapping paper?

“Alright, class,” you cleared your throat, turning slowly around the room to make eye contact with each student. “As you know, Jonathan’s away on a conference today. I’ll start with a bit of roll, just so I can learn your names. Not many of you come to my office hours, I know.” You smiled easily. It was so guileless, Cairo mused, nearly childlike. You had the class go around the rooms with names and majors, a circuit that Cairo gave no attention to other than your lilting rhythm of hums, the tapping of your foot on the floor, the way you flicked the corner of the role sheet with your thumb. Your gaze was soon on hers, waiting expectantly. She looked right back with a blink.

“Cairo Sweet. English major.”

“Cairo.” Her name rolled off your innocent little grin, making her cock her head. “Wonderful.” Fascinating. Would you whisper midnight black desires in her ear, so deep and dark they might be murmured into the ink of your own empty room?

You continued, circling back to the front and easily transitioning to the lesson plan. You had an awfully effortless way of grasping the class’ attention, holding gently and never forcing. It wasn’t like Professor Miller, who always seemed to hasten through the lecture so he could return to his research. She could tell you liked the woods of the text, to fall down into the depths of each word, feeling its weight in you and letting it rock. Just like Cairo. 

She sighed into the warm air prickling up her skin, the curl of your voice around her name making her nipples harden in her bralette, even in retrospect. Exhaling around her cigarette, Cairo brought her hands up to palm her breasts, feeling the drag of her rubied nubs on her palms. Was it the high of the nicotine, the blur of smoke ridden air that made her float straight up into the lofty space you’d created in her mind? Though the feel of her own fingers scraping the lace against her skin was familiar, she found herself keen to think of your soft or callused hands. She was wet already, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten wet so fast.

The weight she imagined of your touch on her flushed skin was completely, deliciously foreign. Unbidden but intimately welcome, Cairo wished that your caress would find the map of her chest as familiar as a classic, something you had searched a million times over yet always managed to find something new. Shamelessly, Cairo trailed her fingers down her stomach, nails catching on every rib as she arched her back in the spilled moonlight. The mystery in the crossing of your long legs as you’d leaned back on the desk climbed up her belly, curling in the thump, thump, thump, of her heart. The uneven roll of your sleeves clung to the corners of her eyes, eidetic and oh, so, tempting. She had watched you so ardently—did you like to watch? Would you watch? 

The space between her thighs was achingly empty, craving the set of your narrow hips. She was comfortable there, and she remembered the taut stretch of wool as you dropped into your chair and set one ankle over your knee. There was something endearing about the way your trousers had pulled up to reveal slouchy black socks, and darker her mind went as the material pulling creases around your lap made her shudder and—she reached behind to pull one of her fluffy pillows under her, smoke billowing into the air. 

Cairo gave her hips an experimental roll, imagining it was the soft fabric of your slacks against her aching cunt, and grinned around her cigarette. Unlike the pillow, you would be ever so solid under her, grabbing for her thighs like a dog yearns to please. Were you more likely to bruise her skin, yanking her into you without care for blood—or would you guide her gently, make a home in her innocence and hold her more dearly than life ever could? Either way, your desire for Cairo would be so apparent that you couldn’t help yourself.

The dip of your tongue in her navel, the little smirk you’d undoubtedly wear as you went down further—would you go for her throbbing clit first, or would your lips press so warm—she didn’t know. She didn’t have to, content with all those different versions of you unfurling before her. In her bedroom, each time she moved her hips, it became easier to imagine you guiding her actions, the bump of your nose on her folds, damned if not addicting.

Cairo grinned as she fell onto her forearms, hips pushing into the soft pillow without abandon. The slide of her panties soaked with slick against her sensitive clit felt like the delicate press of your splayed hand on her desk as you’d passed, eyes occupied by the text you were holding. It had only been a split second, but it was enough for her to memorize every crease, every vein. Cairo let out a whine, a demanding little sound, as her movements grew erratic. Looking up into the heaven where you must be, she imagined that you’d murmur to her, “I’m here, I’m here, how could I be anywhere else but here?” as you traced the dip in her back. Her arousal took her down every sullied path she’d ever dreamed of, but her mind stuck on one gesture that made her mouth go dry. 

She remembered the way your shirt got just a bit untucked when you stretched during the class break. You’d instinctively tucked it back in, quick as you surveyed the class. Cairo thought that you’d dress yourself back up the same way after you bent her over the desk after class, pushing her skirt up and shoving your fingers into her, painting bruises onto her hip bones with how tight you held her.

The two of you would share a mutual understanding that she wanted this, wanted it bad enough for you to take it whenever you saw fit. Cairo decided that today, this time, you’d be as rough as you pleased, a cup of pens clattering to the ground as you pushed her down, forearm across her shoulder blades. Your necklace would be cold on her warm skin, would it be cold on her tongue? You’d put two, three fingers inside, humming in that absentminded way you did. She thought you’d nuzzle into her ear, all lips and sharp teeth, asking if she’d sprayed your favorite hair mist of hers because she hoped you’d notice—she did—and take her, break her, whatever you wanted. 

You’d send her plummeting down towards a deeper hell (or was it higher, up to your majestic heaven?), already knowing everything that her body needed. Cairo imagined herself coming so helplessly around the stretch of your fingers, so high strung from nights of trying to mimic the press of your touch on her clit, unable to reach the same heights you sent her to. As she held back tears, eyes on the ceiling in reverence, feeling herself drip to the floor, you’d sigh as your mind wandered to other things already, carelessly running a hand down her back. 

Cairo gasped, dropping her nearly finished cigarette in favor of gripping the bed sheets. The white fabric wrinkled around her fingers, reminiscent of your shirt creasing as you’d rolled your sleeves up. This was something new you could show her, just how fast she could come and just how wet it made her. It was a marvel, feeling the fabric cling to her cunt, almost as good as how you’d feel. Resting her forehead in the crook of her elbow, she murmured your name over and over again, a little susurrus of a litany, so similar to your preoccupied hum. Panting, Cairo giggled in her bliss, soft and bright as Californian oranges clinging to rich leaves. You were dark enough to be tucked into the wrinkles in the soft pillow, dark enough for Cairo to love, as a journal loves a secret.

Sated, Cairo grabbed her phone and typed your name in. The results spilled out, and she scrolled, looking for all of the details in the background of your social media posts, curiously drunk on the year’s gap in your CV. Cairo noticed the perfect little circle where the cigarette had burned when she dropped it, and she brushed away the remnants. The gesture smeared the ash on the sheets.

—

Walking into your office with barely a knock, Cairo took in the familiar room of an academic, but with your unfamiliar knick knacks around the place. A lighter, a leather wallet, glasses and wired headphones. You didn’t look surprised as you glanced up from your laptop. Instead, you smiled. 

“Cairo, isn’t it?” 

A flush of pleasure shot straight into her—you remembered. She nodded. Your shelves were covered in books and stacks of reviews, the morning’s leftover cup of coffee sitting on one of the ledges. Did you smoke before, or after your coffee? The terrible, terrible want to replace the taste of smoke on your tongue with the taste of her gave Cairo just the confidence she needed. 

“What can I do for you?”

Cairo leaned over your desk, watching the way your eyes dropped to her burgundy lipstick. “Would you be able to help me on the Aristophanes reading?” She pushed her copy of The Clouds towards you. “I can’t seem to grasp it.” Your eyes met hers. “Of course.”

--

a/n cont'd: can you read my mind, i’ve been watching you… there’s just something about you, baby… ♪ / hope you enjoyed @woewriting :)

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[andersonfilms]

NSFW EIGHTEEN+

all i seem to think about lately is religious!abby who grew up in a church all her life, always been told she needs to be with a man, marry one, build a life with one — owen in particular is who she’s been told to have. the arranged marriage she was basically grown into. 

in her early twenties, yet has she had the opportunity to be with another. a promise to her father, with the cross-necklace laying on her chest, she’s dedicated to being celibate until marriage. a pact practically bound by the blood of virgin mary, she believes in the sacred bond she has through faith with her god and savior, jesus christ. funnily enough, it’s the words she utters as you corner her in the bathroom. well…not so much as cornered, not with those curious blue eyes begging for something, anything to unburden her from the life abby feels trapped in. even if she knows it goes against everything she’s been taught, she doesn’t stop you from snaking your hand up her sunshine sunday dress, bright blue as it bring out her eyes, never leaving your actions. at first, your fingers only running along her folds, teasing the era until she’s dripping for you. there isn’t a doubt in your mind she’s never felt anything like this. 

the gold cross pendant a pawn in her mouth as if the only purpose it’s ever served is to be a prop until the cadence revealed itself. the truth of religion can be found on the tips of your fingers, the delicate touches on abby’s clit. abby lets her mind wander into the altar, the communion she takes, you’ll be the sin she begs for forgiveness next. seeping into her body like the blood pumping through her veins, the lone reason for her existence was for you. no god could compare to this, the trembling of her thighs, the moans she whispered in hopes not even her savior from above could hear her. 

is god really the way, the truth, and the light if she sees heaven through your eyes? 

“this is what you wanted isn’t it? someone to save you from the chains you call religion? let me set you free.” without a second more wasted, your tongue laps at her pussy, enjoying the way she can barely hold herself up. letting you claim something now has had the privilege of venturing. she would be shunned, ostracized from society if anyone knew the truth. 

truthfully, it’s an easy task. the angelic blonde so deprived of another’s touch she slithers in the hands of a snake, tasting the forbidden fruit for the first time. it’s quick, overwhelming when she comes undone, spilling her sweet nectar into your lips, hips moving uncontrollably as she fucks your face. knuckles bearing the color of winter snow, clutching onto her dress that rests at her toned abdomen as you swallow every last drop. 

stepping away from her, you grab a washcloth, running it under warm water, abby unable to move. impending doom washes over her guilty, and now sinful, heart. this never should have happened, the voice in her head repeats, the path of self righteousness was supposed to be hers but now she finds herself acquainted with the sinner and the snake, straying from the life of a discipline and discipleship. 

“hold your pretty dress for me. can’t get it wet, can we?” abby lifts her dress, clutching it as the warm wash rag gently cleans her, she feels your fingers dip inside her slightly, thorough as you clean up her cum. 

“i should get back out there.” abby shyly whispers. “my dad will be looking for me…and owen.” 

“right.” you toss the used rag on the countertop, “just one more thing.” 

with a passion laced in your tongue, you steal her breath away, lips locking either her pinky, pouting ones. abby can only assume the salty but even sweeter taste is her. whimpering as you squeeze her small tits through the pale blue dress, abby can’t help but grind against your legs between her legs, aching for something more. this time, you deny her of what she so desperately needs. 

“come and find me when you’re ready for a real fuck, princess.”

[0o-junebug-o0]

Soft Early Mornings

summary: Emily takes care you when you wake up.

genre: fluff and smut

cw: 18+ mdni! kinda softdom!emily, kinda sub!reader, dirty talking, praise, fingering (r receiving), reader has a vagina but nothing else is specified (the only word used to describe reader's genitalia is clit), reader is written as non-male because I can't imagine emily as anything other than a lesbian, cumming in pants (I guess it counts), no use of y/n, morning sex, crying during sex, soft/emotional sex

wordcount: 1.1k

You wake up to the warmth of the newly risen sun and Emily’s hand under your shirt drawing gentle circles on your stomach. You groan softly and she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Hey, baby,” she whispers. Her voice is husky and quiet. She must have woken up not long before you did.

“Hi,” you whisper in response, pressing your back further against her chest.

She chuckles slightly and flattens her hand on your stomach to pull you closer until your body is completely flush against hers. She slips her thigh between your knees, parting your legs slightly, before once again dragging her fingertips softly over your skin.

You sigh with contentment and turn your head to look back at her as much as you can. Emily props herself up slightly, her hair falling over her shoulder and neck, and presses a brief and gentle kiss to your lips. You smile as she presses a kiss to your nose before tapping the tip of your nose with her own and settling back down into the bed. 

You can feel her shift slightly behind you as she knocks off the bit of the blankets that managed to stay covering you both throughout the night despite your squirming. Being this close to each other provides all the warmth you both need.

“I love you,” you mutter.

Emily presses another kiss to your shoulder. “I love you too, baby.”

You hum happily and she chuckles in response. Her hand slips further up your shirt, tracing swirls up to your sternum and back down with two of her fingers. You let your eyes slip shut as you focus on the feeling of her hand, her love and care for you apparent with every soft design she draws.

Emily flattens her hand on your stomach again, just resting it there for a moment before shifting it so the tips of her pinkie and ring fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts. Surprised, you shift your hips slightly, pressing your body harder against her.

She raises up and presses a kiss behind your ear. “Is this okay?” she whispers.

A shaky breath leaves your lips and you nod eagerly. 

Emily chuckles into your ear. “Words, sweet thing.”

“Yes,” you gasp.

She kisses you again and you can feel her smile against your skin before she settles back down. Her hand dips further beneath your shorts and you gasp as one of her fingers brushes over your clit.

“Such a pretty little thing,” she mutters. Two of her fingers settle over your clit and start rubbing gentle circles. The feeling makes you moan softly as little sparks of pleasure shoot through your body. The sound makes her chuckle.

Emily doesn’t increase her pace at all, even though you know she can feel how wet you are, moving her fingers just fast enough with just enough pressure to drive you crazy without giving you more. She peppers your back with gentle kisses as you squirm against her and you can feel her smiling at every little gasp and moan that escapes your lips.

She slides her hand further down and you whine at the loss of stimulation to your clit. The sound is quickly cut off by a groan as she sinks two fingers into you at once. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers. You let out a little broken moan as she curls her fingers inside of you. The angle is perfect, allowing her fingers to hit that spot inside you while the heel of her palm presses against your clit.

“E-Emily,” you gasp weakly.

“Shh, it’s okay, baby,” she soothes. “I’m right here.”

You whimper desperately as she slowly starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you, hitting that spot and nudging your clit every time. She’s so gentle, making the pleasure build inside you slowly, burying deep in your gut and creeping up your spine. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible and you can feel tears pooling in your eyes. A soft and happy sob works its way free from your chest and Emily stills her hand but doesn’t remove it. She props herself up, leaning over you and tilting your head so she can press a long and gentle kiss to your lips. “You okay, sweet thing?” she asks softly. You nod and open your eyes to meet hers. You let your eyes slip closed again as she presses her lips back against yours and resumes the movement of her hand. Her fingers hit that spot again, making you gasp into the kiss. She pulls back and kisses where the tears have gathered at the corners of your closed eyes.

“You’re doing so good, baby. I’m right here,” she whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Heat climbs up your body and you whine desperately as you feel yourself getting close.

“That’s it, beautiful, so good for me.”

Her voice and words are so full of love and care and they drive you crazy, making you whimper and squirm.

“Em–“ you moan.

“It’s okay, baby,” Emily whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Cum for me.”

As if on cue, you cum around her fingers. Pleasure washes over you and your body shudders. You moan and clench around her as she works you through it, whispering praises into your ear. When your orgasm subsides, Emily gently removes her fingers and you practically melt into the bed. It wasn’t a violent or overly powerful orgasm, but the slow build and gentle release of pleasure exhausted you. 

Emily slips her leg out from between your knees and you roll onto your back. You open your eyes and blink up at her with a dopey smile, uncaring of the tears still on your face. Emily wipes her fingers clean on her shirt and props herself up on her elbow to look down at you. Her hair falls over her shoulders and brushes against your neck and chin, making you giggle slightly.

You reach up and tuck her hair behind her ear, both to stop it from tickling you and so you can get a better view of her beautiful face. “Hi,” you say softly, lowering your hand to rest on your chest.

“Hey, sweet thing,” she responds. She presses kisses to each of the tears on your cheeks. “Did so good for me.”

You feel your cheeks warm. “Do you wa–”

Emily shakes her head. “No,” she says softly. “This was just about you.”

She kisses you softly and you raise your hand to cup the back of her head. When she pulls away for air, Emily rests her forehead against yours, pressing the tips of your noses together. She slowly opens her eyes to stare into yours.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you too.”

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

[bethsvrse]

LESBIAN VISIBILITY WEEK

(some of my favourite wlw fanfics)

late night confession - wanda maximoff by @lives-in-midgard

puppy love - robin buckley by @elliesmainhoe

glue - ellie williams by @whore-era

new in town - lydia martin by @heliads

make you mind this season - kate bishop by @hard-core-super-star

lady oswald - clara oswald by @lanawinterscigarettes

if I could fly - clara oswald by @wlw-imagines

I want you (bless my soul) - river song by @penguinwithitsarseonfire

trick or treat - maddy perez by @suzar

props to all these writers, should definitely check them out :3

[holskeepsitreal]

im sick and tired of seeing dom vi that bitch is the most submissive bottom out there😭😭😭 give me more sub vi fics PLEASE🙏🙏

[woewriting]

basorexia (i)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: you're dying to know what cairo's lips taste like. word count: 2295 warnings: mdni, +18 only! no pronouns used, kissing, slightly nsfw, sexual tension, a bit angsty, not exactly a happy ending, sorry...

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Clearing your throat for the 5th time since class started, you tried to look away from the girl that stood in front of the class, paper in hands as she read the words written on it to everyone. The brown eyes would often travel around looking for any reactions that she would entice, from Mr. Miller, to her best-friend, to the rest of the students and finally landing on you. 

Cairo gave you a brief smile, but enough to make you blush. The heat wave taking over your body, making you shift uncomfortably in your chair. Sitting in the front row, that close to her, was not the best idea.

As the brunette finished presenting her paper, the professor motioned for her to return to her seat, right next to you. Also not a good idea, but she insisted and it wasn’t hard to comply with her wishes. You swallowed hard, eyes looking at your hands that rested on your lap, avoiding to look at her, being this closed never failed to agitate your heart, especially after her readings.

“So,” Cairo leaned closer, whispering in your ear with a sweet voice. “What did you think?”

“It was incredible, as well as everything you've ever written. You have a way with words that never fails to astonish me.”

The girl let out a small laugh. “Is ‘astonish’ your word of the day?”

“How did you guess?” You retorted in the same playful tone.

You finally looked at her. Big mistake, if you cared to admit to yourself.

Cairo was close, leaning into your personal space as she always did to test your reactions. Her eyes carried unspoken words that you wished she’d share with you the same way she does when working on her writing, but it never seemed to be something that would, eventually, come to reality. She had many things she wanted to share, unfortunately, none involved you.

Not directly, at least.

Feeling your throat dry at the sudden closeness, your eyes darted from hers, down to her lips where a small smile rested, knowing damn well the effect she had on you. 

“I can read you like a poem.” She whispered, pulling back to pay attention to the rest of the class.

It was a truthful statement, she can read you as if you were written by a high schooler, with shallow, badly used words that confuses everyone around, including you.

Sometimes it felt like she was interpreting you wrongly, in her own ways.

And that only made you more confused as to what was the feeling you felt when she was beside you. And what she felt for you.

Yet, you burn inside to hear her mind. 

The rest of the morning went by like the wind, occasionally blowing on your hair, threatening to rain every second. Like every other ordinary day. 

Cairo would spend time either writing or reading in her own world, completely focused on the words she would type on her laptop, stealing glances from you every now and then when Winnie’s laugh got her attention. You pretend not to feel the brown eyes burning your side profile, but the brunette always noticed the way you gulp and bite on your lower lip before returning her attention to her work. 

Only then you’d look at her. And it was as if the world was muted by whoever controls this reality, making everything disappear as you gazed at her face, from the messy fringe that covered her forehead to the light-colored dots that were spread on her skin, your favorite one being a small freckle on her lip that you wished to kiss away and steal it for you.

You were dying to know how she tastes, if it was bitter like the coffee she insists is better than any other sugary garbage you and Winnie chooses to drink, or if it was minty like the cigarettes that always rested in her hands. Maybe it tasted like cinnamon because of the gum she carries in her back pocket, or cherries since she loves to eat them when she’s alone at home.

Shaking your head, you turned your attention back to Winnie Black and whatever was the subject she seemed excited to talk about, and all you could do was laugh when she did. 

Cairo noticed your behavior.

On your way through the trees, you trailed behind her, just admiring the way she would kneel whenever a new insect crossed her way. 

“Don’t you think they’re cute?” She asked with glowing eyes, looking hypnotized by the green praying-mantis in her hands. 

“It would be more interesting if they could kung-fu.” 

Cairo rolled her eyes at your joke, coming closer to you to lay the innocent animal in your own hands, a disgusted feature took over your face once you felt the tickles in your skin. 

“If they could kung-fu, you’d be dead by now.” She joked back, walking her way out of the woods that led to the old, empty mansion on the other side, leaving you behind unsure on what to do with the tiny creature in your hands. Luckily, it jumped off on its own as if it had noticed your discomfort. 

You laughed to yourself, following her once again.

The old place had slowly become your second house as you stayed there more than at your actual home. With Cairo’s parents out for most of the days on working trips, you’d find yourself more comfortable with the other’s presence as you both worked on your assignment in silence after class.

It was dark outside the window when you let out a sigh of relief, finally finished with your work. Looking over to Cairo, she still had the laptop on her lap, but little did you know she had finished her own homework way before you.

“Do you know what ‘basorexia’ means?” Her voice made you stare at her with a confused aura. You denied with your head, sitting back up on the chair you were in. Cairo took one last drag on the cigarette that rested between her fingers before putting it out on the small, porcelain plate on the nightstand by her bed. She walked to you at a slow, calculated pace until she was standing in front of you. “It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss someone’.” She explained, calmly placing herself on your lap.

“What are you doing?” You choked on your voice, trying to back yourself away from her, but her hands firmly on your shoulders and legs resting side by side with yours made you stay in place. 

“I want the truth.”

“What truth, Cairo?”

When the brunette leaned closer, you could smell the mint in her breath. Her fingers found the collar of your shirt, touching your neck with the tip of them.

“About what you want.” Her eyes were dark, pupils full blown at the feeling of you so tensed up under her touch. “I see the way you look at me, an overflowing desire that is almost drowning you in.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried to play off, but your voice failed you as you looked away from her, focusing on the vintage furniture that decorated her bedroom; everything looked so antique, matching perfectly with the personality of the girl stranding your lap. 

Cairo’s hand left your shoulder to lock your chin over her index finger as she made you look at her.

“You can lie to yourself as many times as you want, but you cannot lie to me.” Her thumb brushed softly on your lower lip and you had to stop yourself from sucking it into your mouth. “You think you’re doing a great job at hiding what’s in your head, but your body gives away your true intentions.”

“And how’s that?” The low, curious tone in your voice made the girl lean closer, brushing her lips against yours.

“Your eyes love to travel up and down my body, but they seem to have a strange obsession with my lips.” She licked on them, the tip of her tongue touching you. You closed your eyes for a mere second, but the small tilt on your chin made you open them again. “Your cheeks gain a pinkish tone whenever I lean closer to you and you stop breathing as if the air I let out is toxic. Your hands refuse to touch me out of fear I’ll burn under your touch.” The hand that wasn't holding you in place found yours that were glued to your sides, making them rest on her thigh. “So, I want you to tell me what’s going on inside your pretty little head.”

Cairo Sweet is objective, what she wants, she’ll have it. One way or another. And she had her own ways to justify the means.

Your brain tried to form a single sentence, but the words had left your vocabulary, all it had left was the new word you had just learned: basorexia. 

Was that what you felt in your chest? 

Once again, the girl proved to be ahead of you, knowing your true wishes. Reading you like an open book displayed on her desk among the others that she devours. 

You took one last deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts before you let out all that’s been troubling you since you first met Cairo.

“I want to kiss you. But only once, I think.” The girl smiled, reaching out for your other hand so that now both rested on her thighs. “I just want to know what it’s like and I’ve spent enough time staring at your lips that I can’t bear the thought of never finding out.”

“What if I don’t want to kiss you?” 

“Then that makes us two liars instead of one.” Your voice was nothing but a lowly whisper, afraid to break that thick tension that surrounded the both of you like the smoke that Cairo blew out of her mouth.

Your hands moved up and down, never trespassing the fabric of her black skirt. You didn't want to abuse a boundary that you didn't know existed, but imagined. Everything about Cairo was a mystery, she spent more time hidden in the words of her books than actually expressing her wishes out loud, it was rare the times she felt comfortable saying them, and when she did, it felt like you were standing in the eye of the hurricane.

Her hands were heavy on your shoulder, slowly moving to tangle in your hair to pull your head back. You looked at her with half-opened eye lids and parted lips as she carefully analyzed you, deciding on what should be her next step. All she knew was that, after the first one, she couldn’t take two back.

Cairo fixed herself on your lap, holding back a heavy breath that threatened to escape her throat at the touch of your burning hands moving past her skirt. You wanted to grab the flesh and move her against you just to hear that sound again.

You watched with hypnotized eyes when she stopped smiling, hovering over you with open lips, her hot breath mixing with yours, but never closing the small gap between the two of you. She was unsure, hesitant, almost as if waiting for someone to push her off the edge of a cliff.

This time you took the first step, your hands held her waist and your torso moved against hers to capture her lips with your own, sucking on her bottom lip. Cairo kissed you with hunger, easily taking control of the situation with her hands cupping your cheeks, pulling you towards her as she pushed herself on you, not even air could go through you.

She tasted divine on your tongue, even more than you could ever dream of, and the sounds that were escaping from her parted lips whenever you tilted your head for a different fitting filled your ears and soon became your favorite sound. When she moaned against your mouth, feeling your nails dig the skin of her waist, you went to heaven and back, your body heating up as if hell embraced you in a tight hug. 

Moving one of her hands from your face, the brunette guided yours up, squeezing her breast with a small smile while kissing you before leading it down her body once more. 

She was hot against your fingers and it was easy for you to slide them against her slit at a torturous pace. Cairo held your hand steady, deciding to move her hips against you, whining on your lips with eyes closed. Short nails digging at the nape of your neck, a bearable burning on the spot. 

Trailing your kisses down her neck, you licked on her pulse point, earning yourself a hoarse moan before she pulled back from you, standing up before she reached the ‘no return’ point.

You nearly screamed at the sudden abruption, following behind her. As your arms were to wrap around her waist, she pushed you down back on the chair with a firm hand on your chest. You stared at her, frustrated and bothered, and she didn’t seem so different from you. Swollen lips, dark eyes and heavy breathing, her shoulders fastly moving up and down. Once again, you were confused with her actions.

The awkward silence that filled the bedroom was loud, screaming inside of your head. You wanted to slap that expression on her face, the one that looked at you with a tensed jawline. Instead, you just got up and took the jacket that rested on the chair’s arm, hearing the flick of her lighter before you closed the door and walked down the stairs, a burning feeling on your chest.

[sarcasm-and-stiles]

Emily, sweating: Y/N, there’s something I need to ask you-

Y/N: Finally! You’re proposing!

Emily: How’d you know?

Y/N: Emily, you’ve dropped the ring five times during dinner.

Y/N: I even picked it up once.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 28 - Forced Intox

pairing: Mob boss!WandaNat x sub!Reader

summary: You drink, and keep drinking. All courtesy of your girlfriends, of course. They have some fun with you, and you just bask in the feeling of being utterly drunk while they command your body however they please.

content warnings: reader has a penis, alcohol, very dubious consent, cunnilingus

word count: 1.4k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

A/N: Any scene or kink with dubious consent should be discussed before actually participating in the kink or scene.

People. All you could see, feel, or touch were people. They were packed in around you as soon as you entered the door, the low lighting of the club causing you to squint your eyes as you tried to focus. 

Fuck, you shouldn’t have used the main entrance.

You can barely see, the scent of alcohol and weed hitting you as music thrums strongly in the air. The floor is slightly sticky, and you grimace as you make your way towards the second floor, where you were meeting your girlfriends.

They took good care of you, truly. But the only thing you hated about their job was the ridiculously lavish and crowded parties they threw. You understood why they threw them, of course, but you still didn’t like them. 

“Right this way,” a man says, and you turn to see one of the security team next to you. You feel your body relax as relief floods you, your girlfriends only employed the best and most trusted individuals they knew. The training process alone only let the most qualified candidates through, so you allowed the man to gently grab your elbow as a team of security surrounded you. 

Slowly, you made your way towards the staircase, avoiding the stumbling drunk people around you. God, you needed a shot, it was stifling to be in this environment sober. 

As you ascend the stairs, you search for the signature hair color of your girlfriends. Wanda liked her hair more auburn, while Natasha preferred a darker red, and you smiled when you saw them next to each other, engaged in a conversation. 

“Thank you,” you murmured, the team of security dispersing as the man gently led you over to where your girlfriends were waiting. 

Two pairs of green eyes meet yours, and you smile as they turn their full attention to you. God, you’d been looking forward to seeing them all day. The only thing you wanted was their hands around you and a beer to sip on. 

“Darling,” Wanda greets you, pulling you in by the belt and kissing you firmly. You feel yourself harden slightly at the action, and you know that she can feel it as she presses her body against you.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Natasha says, and you feel Wanda break the kiss to chuckle against your neck, her hands hot around your waist. You smile at her, your hand reaching past Wanda to bring her in for a slight hug. 

“Missed you.” The words are whispered, but your girlfriends hear them. 

Natasha smirks, pulling away slightly to wave her hand at someone you can’t see. Wanda remains wrapped around you, her hands grabbing your waist tightly as she kisses your neck. You hold her, your body relaxing as you watch a bartender hand Natasha a tray. 

Smiling, you take in the three shots and your favorite beer on the tray. 

“Vodka,” Natasha says, gently touching Wanda’s shoulder and pulling her away from you.

“Are we taking these together?” 

Wanda laughs at your question, holding one of the shots as Natasha holds the other two. You smile as you take the offered shot, confusion growing when Wanda simply looks at you, tilting her head as she glances at the shot in your hand.

“No,” Natasha says, moving closer to wrap her hand around the back of your neck. It’s possessive, and you feel yourself grow even harder, your hands moving to cover your bulge slightly. “These are all for you, pet.”

Your eyes widen at the name, and you feel Wanda’s hand on yours. She moves the shot towards your lips, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

“Be good for us, darling. Take the shot, we want you fuzzy tonight.”

At her command, you take the shot. Before you can set the glass down, Natasha is pressing the next one in your hand, her eyes dark as she watches you gulp it down. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mutter, wiping your lips. Vodka burns, your throat feeling warm as Wanda presses the final shot into your hand. 

“Come on, pet,” Natasha says, smirking at you as she opens your beer for you. “One more shot, you know you want it.”

Well, you can’t argue with that logic. You feel yourself twitching in your pants at her commanding tone, and down the shot while ignoring the way Wanda glances down at your crotch. 

“Good job,” Wanda murmurs, her lips returning to your neck. 

You accept the beer that Natasha gives you, wrapping your fingers around the cold bottle as you feel your face heat up from the alcohol. The room is already growing hazier, and you feel yourself relax as a grin spreads on your face. 

Without protest, you allow yourself to be pulled into the VIP section of the club, the atmosphere quieter but no less intense than the general club area. 

At some point, you find yourself on a couch. Natasha and Wanda are next to you, her hands wandering as you groan and feel yourself grow harder. They don’t seem to mind, Wanda’s leg thrown over yours as her thigh presses lightly against your bulge. 

It’s pleasant, the room blurry as your eyes begin to glaze over. Your head is fuzzy, and your ears ring slightly as another bottle is placed in your hands. How many drinks have you had now?

You can’t remember, but Wanda’s fingers are tipping the bottle against your lips and you swallow, blushing at the praises that drop from Natasha’s lips as you do. There are hands all over you, and you can feel yourself straining in your boxers, your need obvious to everyone in the room. 

“Don’t be embarrassed, pet,” Natasha says, her voice playful as you turn to look at her with bleary eyes. Your face is flushed, your lips parted slightly as she presses another shot into your hands. “This is what you wanted, remember?”

Of course you wanted this. That’s right, Natasha would never lie to you. 

“Keep drinking,” Wanda mumbles, her hand guiding yours as you down the shot, grimacing at the taste and sipping your beer to mask the burn. You can feel yourself slipping further, the edges of your vision fading as you bask in the attention and closeness of your two favorite people. 

At some point, you confess your love to them both. You barely remember it, your words quiet and your eyes shining as Wanda giggles while Natasha smiles at you and places another beer in your hand. Your tongue doesn’t even process the taste anymore, but you somehow manage to keep drinking. 

By the end of the night, you’ve been pulled into a dark room. You think it’s an office of some sort, most likely Wanda’s. It’s hard to tell though, as you’re focused on how fuzzy and pliant you feel, your body pressed against the couch cushions while Natasha and Wanda shower you with affection. Wanda is on top of you, kissing you softly as you moan into her mouth, her lips tasting like cherries and vodka. Natasha is near your waist, her mouth eagerly sucking on your hard length, pleasure thrumming through your veins. 

You barely register your orgasm, the pleasure blurring and mixing with the weightless feeling in your limbs, your mind fuzzy as you buck your hips and bask in the feeling of Wanda’s mouth moving against yours. You remember moaning, your eyes closing slightly as the room begins to sway and spin. 

Fuck. Wanda is on top of you, fucking herself on your hard length. You can smell her arousal as she does, Natasha’s fingers resting in your mouth as you suck on them. You moan at the feeling of Natasha’s lips against your neck, your hips pinned to the couch by Wanda’s thighs as she grabs your waist for support and grinds with your cock inside her. 

It’s perfect, and you let the pleasure consume you. 

The next thing you remember is Natasha pouring another shot into your mouth, your eyes blurry as you try and focus on something. Somebody is saying something, but you can’t quite hear it, the ringing in your ears too loud. 

Pleasure. 

Your throat burns, your cock hard and tired at the same time. Someone’s arousal is smeared on your lips, and you smile stupidly. A shower? You’re nude, being held up by strong arms as a heavily accented voice speaks to you. Not that you can understand it, but you nod along anyway. 

It’s perfect, and exactly what you need. It’s everything you asked for.

—

You wake up the next morning, your head pounding as you snuggle more into the two warm bodies wrapped around you. Your voice is weak as you thank them, a wave of tiredness washing over you as Wanda’s fingers card through your hair. Natasha praises you, her voice low and her hands strong as they rub your back. 

You wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[thechibilitwick]

sorry for all the 0507 sludge i’m waiting for some mind blowing idea to hit me

[alexissara]

Quick Review: Grand Slam Romance Book 1

Grand Slam Romance is a really fun time, I am not at all a sports girly and even less so a fan of baseball or softball but this story was a total blast to read with lots of lesbians having sex, being messy as shit and tons of great goofs. Astra Maxima is one of my favorite characters in any medium that I read in 2024 being a really fun and messy character who has a lot of solid funny scenes. The comic does a good job of keeping a light tone while also keeping you invested in these characters and their feelings for each other. At first it's hard to read Astra but getting to know her feelings near the end really feels like a nice pay off, everyone is fun and it's just a simple good time.

It does feel like the story didn't totally wrap everything up intentionally for a second book to exist but I want to read that second book, I think there MIckey and Astra end up is great and I adored seeing all the different kinds of sapphics represented from our He/hims to our non binary lesbians to femmy lesbian fuck boys we really had it all here. The character designs are top of the line and the pair of Ollie and Emma really work amazingly together. It's the kind of comic project you can tell the creators love each other and that love shows up in the world, a beautiful dance of collaboration that any artist who has got to work with someone they love will see the fruits of.

I bought this book on a whim and I for sure do not regret picking up the hard cover. It's a really great time and one I think other people should check out too. I look forward to the future book and seeing how the follow up to this works. The romance in book one was good, compelling, and a great bit of one of my favorite dynamics which is lesbian childhood best friends but I would love to see it go even further now that they are reunited.

Also like full bias Astra is like exactly how I make my OCs down to the look, like she looks basically like an ideal me so I am totally biased towards this fuckgirl. Basically she can do anything awful and I'd forgive her on sight, she's the moment, there is no blaming her.

If you enjoy these reviews you can read more, I write lots of them and if you really enjoy them I can always use support over on Patreon and Ko-fi.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Need you to write more WLW 😫😫😫😫

It’s the only thing keeping me sane!!!!!

A/N: I wrote this based on a random ass scene I saw in The Boys and now...here lies this creation. (Female fitness trainer is nearing completion)

CW: blackmail, manipulation, toxic relationship type beat, controlling behavior, threats, cigarettes

Synopsis: you attempt to break up with your girlfriend-- she's too much. But she was going to keep you, one way or another.

You knew the rough crowd around town was... intense. But this chick was on another level. Kali liked to scare you; with how little you knew about her friends, leering on their motorcycles as she watched from behind a cigarette, your mind swam with scenarios of being abandoned on bloody asphalt behind a dumpster.

The music she blares in her shitty, one-eyed car and the smoke trail she left in bathrooms-- she liked being revered as nothing but trouble. You were doing your best to stay away from any kind of danger, focused on fixing the pieces of your tarnished education as your grades had not been kind to you. But Kali got to you first, ripping away any thoughts of work and reparations to your tuition debt.

So, despite the foggy kisses, lipstick stains on your jaw, and unexpected clinginess she showed to the idea of moving you in with her, you're making an attempt to break up with her.

"You... want to ditch me?"

"What? No! I'm just, I'm extremely worried about this next semester." You put a hand on her square-cut, polished fingers. "If I fail even one class again, my scholarships will drop me. I'm already on probation with the university."

You hope she can see how worried you are in your eyes, squeezing her hand to ease the news. She was going rigid, stiff as a tree with the strength of a waiting titan.

"School, huh."

Kali watched you beneath wispy bangs, looking straight through you. As if you weren't there, heart-pounding and palm-sweating in front of her.

You were glad she balled her hands in fists before you grabbed them, having one too many instances of your fingers crushed in her grip.

"B-but... we can still see each other.. maybe, sometimes on the weekends. I just can't afford any distractions, I've already spent a fortune getting to where I am."

"Is this because I want you to move in with me?" She blurted, straight faced and tight lipped.

Dark, midnight eyes bore into you for the truth.

Her ears perked at the sound of your jaggy sigh, knowing this would come up. "... No, but I have to say that it is still pretty early in, well, "us", to be considering... that."

"Really?" She asked earnestly, cold fingers finding their way around your forearm. "Because I still feel pretty confident about the idea, baby."

You hated how she could call you "baby" so easily, how every "sweetheart" was patronizing or forceful, or could be the most saccharine thing you heard when you first woke up.

her boot tips pressed against the side of your shoes, trapping you in like a snake wrapped around a rat. One hand held yours in a death grip, the other raking shivery nails against your knee from under the coffee table.

"I've got a perfect place for your stuff, work's only ten minutes away; why would there be any little reason to stay at your dusty old apartment?"

"I, I don't think you're hearing me--"

"No, no baby, I think you forgot who's choice this was to make." Your skin was a deep color under her fingers, her strength far outmatched as your clammy, fragile hand was brought to her cheek. She tutted under her breath, tsk'ing in condescention. "What would you do without me? How are you going to survive alone, no car to get to your classes, or the grocery store, unprotected around your peers... I can't imagine it, especially since your landlord never got his money to re-lease your apartment next month..."

From under the table her swift fingers brought a bulging envelope to the table, previously stuffed in your landlord's mailbox.

It wasn't even opened, the cash and tenant forms sealed without a mark.

Your jaw went slack, coffee cup cold in your hands.

"How did you--"

"Try it again, and I'll find it. You'll keep losing money, keep draining chances to come to me lovingly."

Kali sweetly tiptoed her black nails up to your shirt collar, sending shivers down your neck with each gentle, uncharacteristically slow touch.

Without warning, the woman snatched your shirt in her fist and jerked you forward, pulling you tightly against the coffee table. The seething anger she bore hardly made a sound, leaving the fellow cafe attendants nearby unbothered.

Your wince left her apathetic, bear-like eyes relishing in how unnerved and frantic you were becoming.

"I so rarely give out second chances. You, my love, are very lucky to be the exception. Don't make me regret it," your girlfriend was only inches apart, painted lips plump and teasing only breaths away. "I don't like to play dirty, but I will if you run from me. Is that clear, baby?"

You swallowed thickly, letting your gaze run away from hers as she bore into you with intense malice.

"Say yes," She whispered, on edge of twisting your wrist. "So I don't have to show everyone in here who you belong to."

Your cheeks lit up, terrified of the baristas and groups of students who'd look your way if she carried out that threat. Kali was unpredictable, something you found so endearing when you first met. She was always moving, doing something you couldn't expect. Now, it was scaring you.

You nod your head, regretting the idea of trying to break up with her in public. She wasn't afraid to make a scene, unlike you.

"Of course, Kals. There won't... be any need for that."

You hoped the sweetly familiar nickname with a hint of an anxious smile would make you sound casual, as if you weren't sweating behind your jacket and avoiding her blinkless stare like the plague.

"That's right." She whispered, letting go of your collar to pull at your jaw, this time only with the intent of dragging you closer. She was always so rough with her grip, capable or causing pain with its force, or merely leaving you breathless.

The punk's hand from beneath the table took mercy on your thigh with its painful rakes, moving instead to your cheek. Cold rings nicked your skin, her knuckles brushing against your face in a gentle, longing caress. You were hunched over the table now, uncomfortably risen as she sat like a queen in her cushioned chair, your face in her hands and your breath stolen by her.

Her pierced tongue came to graze the inside of your mouth, all-consuming and grinning through her teeth.

She tasted of stale cigarettes and mint gum, her current oral fixation besides the longterm smoking vice she's had since middle school.

You reluctantly kissed back, feeling wrongness in your gut. This isn't how it was supposed to go, you weren't supposed to be sharing hot breaths or hearing her satisfactory groans for capturing you once again. You were supposed to be leaving teary eyed and frightened of what she'd do now that you were no longer on her good side. But this, was far worse. You were walking on ice that was already breaking, the freezing water below beginning to flood the only surface of land you had left.

Kali pulled away, not without a few last kisses to the corner of your mouth and cheek, leaving wet lipstick stains. Your lips were probably about as red as hers were now. Dark lashes heightened by her thick mascara clouded your view, your girlfriend looking up at you through them with a gentle hardness.

She wasn't so scary when you were falling to her whims, like putty in her fingers and teeth.

"Kal..." you mumble, upsettingly conflicted between your failure to carry out what you came for, and your fear of what her threats would do. Her history of breaking into your bedroom window and making herself at home wherever she tracked you left you without a doubt of her potential. It made you all the more anxious of what she would be like if you didn't follow through with what she wanted.

"My friend is out of town for the weekend, said I could use his condo by the beach... a getaway, just for us baby." Her cold thumb smoothed over your bruised lips, an inkling of a smile coming to curl her mouth upward. "You'll be there, tonight. Dressed in that cute little number you wore on our first date. Is that right?"

It wasn't a question, it was a challenge. 'Are you going to let go of this once in a lifetime second chance I'm giving you? ' is what she was asking.

You didn't want to say yes. You didn't want to show up, to spend another agonizing second with her knowing that your failing at everything you hold dear. But her hold on your face brings you to fall back into your comfort zone.

"Yeah, Kals. I'll... I'll be there. But--"

She laid a firm hand on your shoulder,  leaning against your ear with wrathful delight.

"Promise you won't bail on me, sweetheart. I don't wanna come looking for you," She let go of your sweet lips to play with a strand of your hair, curling it around her finger. "I really don't enjoy forcing you to obey.."

That was such a lie. She loved it, relished in your mild disobedience at times. But this was a different level of rebellion, one she detested.

You swallowed your protest, frustration bubbling in your stomach in distress and fear.

"I promise, Kal."

[andersonfilms]

❝ LOVERGIRL!ABBY HEADCANNONS ❞

♱

lovergirl!abby who would geek out the first time you’d come to her first soccer game. one of her jersey’s on your back as you wore it proudly. dina painted her number and her name on your cheek and you wore it proudly. abby’s heart swelled as big as texas when she saw you cheer for her. the goal she scored was just much as for you as it was for her team.

lovergirl!abby who would take you to her father’s cabin the peak of winter for a weekend, a trip for just two of you. you loved it so much. how quiet it was — the benefits of it being in the middle of nowhere. the two of you cuddled by the fire the first night, making s’mores as abby told you about the first time her day brought her up here when she was a little girl. a fond memory and now she has another.

lovergirl!abby didn’t mind when the two of you were snowed in for a day, it meant she was able to spend time with just you. trapped in a love cocoon she had no desire to leave.

lovergirl!abby who loves having movie nights with where the two of you can cuddle underneath her duvet, your head on her chest with her heart beat in perfect harmony along her own.

lovergirl!abby likes to surprise you with flower arrangements. most of the time she brings white roses, but sometimes she surprises you with dahlias. it's always from an arrangement she she makes from her dad's shop and it only makes you fall in love with her more.

lovergirl!abby loves to be close to you. as close to you and as she can really. anytime you're at a party together, she can't really seem to take her large hands off of you. everyone's getting high or numbing themselves with alcohol so they don't remember anything they're doing tonight, but abby has you sitting on her lap with her arms around your waist and she swears it's the best drug she's ever had.

[0o-junebug-o0]

Hii can we please get an Emily Prentiss with a fem reader with something to do with strip poker? :)

Love your fics sm!!

Strip Poker

Here you go, my love! And thank you! Also, I learned how to play texas hold 'em from a hermitcraft video haha

genre: fluff

cw: suggestive 16+! kinda fem! kinda gn!reader (reader's gender is not specified but is described as having breasts and wearing a bra), strip poker, getting together, kinda fade to black smut

wordcount: 1.9k

“Wanna play poker?”

You turn to look at Emily. She’s lounging against the arm of her couch and watching you with raised eyebrows and a cheeky smile.

“You better not be like Reid,” you warn.

She laughs. “No, no. Don’t worry. I’m good, but I can’t count cards.”

You raise your eyebrows. “What are you trying to trick me out of? I don’t have any cash.”

“So does that mean you want to play?”

You shrug. “Sure. I don’t know what we would bet though.”

“We could play strip poker,” she says simply, like it’s no big deal at all.

Your eyes widen and you can feel your face warm. “Seriously?”

Emily shrugs. “We don’t have to, of course,” she says nonchalantly. “But, yeah, seriously.”

You swallow hard as you try to wrap your head around Emily’s proposal. Strip poker. With Emily. With the woman you’ve had a crush on for over a year. The thought seems almost too good to be true. You find yourself nodding and Emily’s eyes light up.

You can’t help but feel a little guilty as she pushes herself off the couch and leaves to grab a deck of cards. But she suggested it. It was her idea. It’s not like this was an elaborate plan on your behalf to see her naked.

Figuring it would be easier to play on a flat surface, you slip off the couch and onto the floor, crossing your legs beneath you and leaning back against the base of the couch. You pick at your fingernails nervously as Emily returns waving a deck of cards triumphantly.

She sits on the floor in front of you, leaving about a foot of space, and slips the cards from the pack. “What kind of poker do you want to play?” she asks, shuffling the cards with an ease you find insanely attractive.

“I only know Texas Hold ‘Em,” you admit nervously.

Emily nods and shuffles the cards again. “We’ll play that then. I’ll teach you another variant some other time.”

You haven’t even started to play, but your cheeks warm at the thought of doing this again. 

“No blinds, obviously,” Emily says.

You nod in agreement.

“We’ll bet an item of clothing and the other person can call to match the amount or raise by adding another item.” she continues. “You lose a hand, you lose the clothes you bet. And that includes folding unless it’s right off the bat.”

You nod again, too flustered to come up with any words.

“Alright,” Emily says, dragging out the word as she deals two cards facedown to herself and you.

You pick up your cards. Queen of spades and two of clubs. Not a great hand, but a queen high isn’t horrible.  “I-I’ll bet my shirt,” you mutter.

Emily nods. “I will as well,” she responds, taking three cards off the top of the deck and laying them out between you. Eight of hearts, eight of clubs, and 3 of spades. 

You glance up to see Emily watching you with an indecipherable expression. You can feel your heart rate pick up and you fight the urge to lower your gaze, staring right into her eyes instead. She smiles. “Do you want to raise?” she asks.

“No, I’m good.”

“You ready for the next card?”

You hum in affirmation and she takes the top card from the deck and sets it next to the others. Two of diamonds. You feel a bit of relief at the thought that you might not be the first to begin undressing.

Emily pauses for a moment to give you a chance to raise, and when you don’t she takes the next card from the deck and sets it down to reveal the six of diamonds. “Ace high,” she says, lowering her hand for you to see.

You smirk at her and flip your cards. “Two pair.”

Emily laughs and tilts her head in acknowledgment. She sets her cards down and curls her fingers under the hem of her shirt. Your breath hitches as she slowly starts to lift her shirt, revealing first her toned stomach and then the black bra that perfectly supports her breasts. Her eyes stay locked on yours the entire time. She finally pulls the shirt over her head and tosses it aside and you have to fight the urge to stare. She’s absolutely gorgeous and you don’t know what to do with yourself.

Emily reaches out and rests her hand on your knee, making you jump slightly. “You alright?” she asks sweetly.

You find yourself nodding before you can even properly process her question. She smiles at you and your stomach feels like it does a backflip.

“Ready for the next hand?” she asks, picking up all the cards and shuffling them.

You nod again. It’s like her beauty has rendered you incapable of coherent thought, much less speech. Emily deals the cards and you look to see that you have a six of hearts and a seven of clubs. With some luck, you might end up with a straight and get to see Emily take off another piece of clothing. You blink hard to drag yourself back to reality as Emily says, “I bet my socks.”

You look down at your hand again. “I’ll bet my shirt.”

Emily raises an eyebrow at you and you smile back. Your nerves are quickly starting to shift into excitement. She sets the next three cards down. Ace of hearts, 10 of spades, and jack of clubs.

“I’ll raise my belt,” Emily says. You look up at her to see a cocky expression on her face. The flop gives the chance for a straight, though you doubt she has both a queen and a king, if she already had a straight she’d be raising way more than just her belt. She might have one of them. Or maybe she’s bluffing.

“I’ll match with my belt.”

Emily deals out the turn. A five of diamonds. 

“I raise my pants.”

Your head shoots up and you stare at Emily with wide eyes. Maybe she does have a king and queen. You try to read her, but her expression is the same slight cockiness and self-satisfaction it’s been the whole game. You look back and forth between your hand and the community cards. 

“I fold.”

Emily smiles wide and you hand her your cards face down for her to shuffle back into the deck with the others. You take a deep breath to steady yourself before beginning to unbuckle your belt. Emily’s eyes seem practically glued to your hands as she shuffles the cards. The metal of the buckle clinks as you pull your belt through the loops of your pants and set it off to the side. You lock eyes with Emily as you hook your fingers under your shirt and her hands go still. 

You smirk, pleased to see that you seem to have the same effect on her that she has on you. Taking a leaf from her book, you maintain eye contact as you slowly remove your shirt, and by the time it’s gone and you’re just in your bra, you can see the blush on her cheeks. The realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you starts a fire burning in your gut and you start to think that maybe Emily wants you too.

She opens and closes her mouth for a moment, before lowering her gaze back to the cards and shuffling them again. “You’re beautiful,” she says softly.

Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Th-thank you,” you stutter, taken aback. “You are too.”

She lifts her head slightly and smiles at you softly before handing out the cards. Seven of hearts and king of spades. Emily hums as she looks at her cards. 

“I’ll, um, I’ll bet my socks,” you say. Now that you’re both shirtless, you can feel the excitement curling in your chest. You want to see more of her. 

Emily nods. “I’ll bet my belt.”

She lays down a four of clubs, nine of spades, and a king of clubs. You smile confidently. The flop doesn’t lend itself to anything good so you feel you have a good chance with a pair of kings. Even if Emily has a four, as long as another one isn’t played in the turn or river, you’ll win.

“You gonna raise?”

You think for a moment before shrugging. You might as well. “I’ll raise my pants.”

Emily’s face flushes. “I’ll match with my own.”

Neither of you raises the bet as an ace of hearts and eight of clubs are played. When the hand is over, you smirk at her, feeling confident in your victory. You set your cards face up on the floor. Emily laughs and does the same. Your jaw drops. She has a four of spades and a four of hearts.

“You forgot about three of a kind, didn’t you?”

You stare at her in shock. “I—yeah,” you admit. “I thought for sure I had you.”

“That’s what you get for being cocky,” Emily teases with a laugh.

You scowl playfully and stick out your tongue. You quickly tug off your socks and toss them to the side before climbing to your feet. Emily’s gaze follows you as you stand, watching the movement of your fingers as you undo your pants. You can see the way her chest heaves with each breath as she watches you slowly push your jeans off your hips.

You bend over seductively, giving her a good view up your bra as you slide your pants down your legs. You swear you can hear her breath hitch. Once free of your jeans you toss them off to the side and sit back down with your legs crossed in a way that leaves your underwear exposed. 

Emily lowers her gaze and quickly reshuffles and deals the cards. The round passes quickly and you can tell she’s distracted. She jumps straight to betting her pants and you match with your bra, then she loses with a jack high to your pair of threes. She practically jumps to her feet and without removing her belt, pushes her pants down.

The sight of her underwear makes your face burn. They’re a pair of small black boyshorts that hug her ass perfectly as she bends over, forcing you to struggle between choosing to look there or at her breasts. Either way, she’s gorgeous. 

She tosses her pants to the side and, instead of sitting back down where she was, she closes the gap between you and lowers herself to sit on your lap. Your arms shoot up in surprise, your hands hovering over her skin, unsure if you’re allowed to touch. You can hear your pulse rushing in your ears.

Emily drapes her arms around the back of your neck and stares at you for a moment. You stare back with wide eyes and your mouth parted slightly in shock. She brushes her hand over your cheek and you swear your heart skips a beat. 

“You can touch me, sweetheart,” she whispers.

You nod desperately and immediately your hands find her hips. “I-is this really happening?” you breathe, unable to wrap your head around it.

“If you want it to.”

You nod again, just as desperately. “Yes, God, yes. I’ve wanted you for so long,” you gasp weakly.

Emily smiles softly at you. “I have as well.” Her gaze drops from your eyes to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You think the way your hand immediately slides into her hair and presses her lips against yours is answer enough.

_____

REQUESTS ARE (temporarily) CLOSED!

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[omenics]

So I can request anything hm...

Can I have a softer scene with Malenia from Elden Ring?

𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓.

› ..your heart yearns for her, and her hands beckon your embrace. — does she even have ears or did the rot eat them off pls idk

“Let me help…” you said, nimble hands running through her hair. It was the colour of fire, of yearning desire, a colour of love. Your voice was tender to her weary ears, but she was stubborn. You knew she was in pain, body aching, screaming.

The needles sat a few feet away, only a few. But she declined.

“No.” She murmured, and although she couldn’t see your face, eyes eaten away by the rot, she could still touch your pretty face. Her fingers, wrapped in cloth, touched and traced your features. The pads slid across your temple, down your nose, across your cheeks, and down to your lips and jaw. “Do not concern yourself, please. Let me be.”

You sighed, hands moving as your thumbs brushed over her cheeks. “You’re in pain, my love. Please, let me ease it. Please.” Your voice broke at the end of your sentence, wavering with a beg. “Please,” you repeated, brows furrowing as you pleaded at her to allow you to help. To do something. She was silent for a while, a long, long while. Her own heart broke at your begs, your insistent urge to help her.

But she could never say no to you.

“Okay.” She whispered, a crack in her voice.

Your lips lowered to her temple, lingering for a moment. When they left her scarred skin, she longed to feel them again. Although your touch alone could not ease her pain, her discomfort that the rot put upon her soul, it helped. Only slightly it did, but it warmed her pale flesh, her wounded mind. Perhaps the Lands Between was not as cruel as many thought, for such tender touches came from its very earth.