#i love you lesbians! this is for you lesbians! and me

[isuggestforcefem]

What I'm about to say is going to sound absolutely fucking insane but I need someone to hear me out on this one and unfortunately you are that person. Delete this if you want but I need someone to know what was revealed to me via divine intervention. This is gonna be a long one

I, as a cis boy, think the optimal strategy is to transition into a femme-presenting trans man or a lesboy or whatever you want to call it.

Now, you may be thinking, "what the fuck????" That's fair. I'm gonna try and break it down for you anyway.

I don't see anything wrong with being a boy. I'm fine as it is. However, I think being a girl could potentially be neat. So I transition into a girl, get estrogen and bottom surgery and whatnot, and bada-bing, bada-boom.

However, I can already convincingly pass as a girl. My voice is pretty androgynous and I have what some would consider a feminine build. Narrow shoulders, long hair, the works. I could still easily go by he/him even if I took estrogen because I'm already pretty androgynous.

"Why transition in the first place?" you might be asking, and I have a very simple reason for this. I want to be a lesbian. I literally cannot picture myself to be intimate with a woman as a man, and I've learned a lot about dating women from the best: lesbians. I want to follow in their footsteps and idolize women in sapphic doodles like the many lesbians before me. I also think I'm overdue for a much-needed hardware update.

Now, why would I still want to pass as a man? Well, as much as I love boobs, I don't think they suit me. Maybe a little bit, but I don't want em too big, y'know? It would also make most social interactions unchanged. I'm still just some guy. I like that energy about me. Also I got some pretty conservative family members. As long as they aren't trying to pull down my pants, I'd still be the same person to them. I'd still be the same person to me, too. I also wouldn't have to change clothes. I already wear what some might mistake for a dysphoria hoodie because it's a pretty thick and large jacket. But I am not giving up those pockets for shit. Also I don't think my skull shape passes too well? It kinda does but in an uncanny valley kinda way. My face can pass but I'm not 100% on the skull.

And, even if I transition, I can still be forcefemmed, but now with so many different layers. I'd still have that femmable egg energy. I could make the detrans kink gender-affirming. I'm still a boymoding trans girl, which is like one of the prime targets from what I've gathered (mainly from this blog). There's so many layers to it, so many things that could be done. I'm starting to think this section is a little too horny for this blog. I can't really tell.

I have contemplated this for roughly six hours and this is what I have. This solution satisfies all the conflicting ideals I have about being trans. I don't think it'd fix transphobia or anything, but I'd probably end up meeting one bigot who thinks I'm trans anyway so I might as well, eh?

Well, I guess I do still have a few problems, such as actually having to care about my looks, the expenses, shaving, ect. But other than that I'd say it's pretty airtight. This might be the new meta

Eggs are inventing new ways to be eggs in my dms I see

[cheyisagirlkisser]

american kids (e.w headcannons)

pairing: southern butch ellie + fem reader

warnings: 18+ content (use of strap-ons + oral sex + ass slapping), mentions of guns since it's a southern au and all, southern dialect/accent noticeable, use of the term 'daddy' (i think ellie is the type of butch to love the name).

☼ southern butch ellie who wears a pair of joel's hand-me-down jeans while she works. sweat drippin' down her forehead, hair tied back messily to keep it out of her face. plenty of pit stains on her wife pleasers and she still looks irresistible.

☼ southern butch ellie who plows through endless fields in her tractor (and you)

☼ southern butch ellie who isn't too picky about her meals. you'll approach her lounging form, practically glued to the recliner, and tap her tanned shoulder with a plate of mississippi mud roast.

"ain't you just so sweet?" she'd tease, tugging your waist to sit on the side of the chair. when you (reluctantly) managed to pull away to clean the crock pot, you'd feel her roughened hand give your ass a little shameless smack, and if you paid closer attention, you could hear the snicker erupt from her throat.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves being called daddy in the privacy of your farmhouse' master bedroom.

in reverse cowgirl, her hands keep a firm grip over the curve of your hips. you rock your hips back and forth, whining incoherent shit she can't make anything of. you jump and look back at her when her hand comes down on your ass, a sharp spank leaving a red handprint on it. "you gonna be nice for daddy and ride her cock, quit mumblin'?" she chides. your whimper sends 1500 watts straight to her bush-hidden pussy. without further notice, you're flipped underneath her, and the harness around her waist is being ripped off so she can shut you up with her pussy on your face.

☼ southern butch ellie with plenty of ink. the single name "shimmer," her first horse, on the back of her shoulder. letters capital and thin. then, an assortment of random tattoos you wouldn't expect someone in the bible belt to have. not that ellie follows any bible, but it's surprising to see. her arms stay mainly clean, freckles on her shoulders and faded down her arms unobstructed, but she swears one day she will get your name on the inside of her wrist.

"see that vein right there, babe? right below 'er. perfect place for your name, don't cha think?"

☼ southern butch ellie who seems rough on the outside, but is the true definition of a sweetheart. you live in a trailer park? she grew up in one, doesn't judge. though that is all too common in the south, some folks still judge. she will never understand it. adding onto this, she ordinates between little and big spoon. some nights, she loves being held and squeezed to sleep. the nights when she has no plans of actually sleeping, she likes sneaking behind you and rubbing her thick belt buckle against your ass.

☼ southern butch ellie who is awkward with kids to the point it melts your heart. she can hardly speak to them, just nodding along and trying to keep up with their jumbling words. give her a couple hours with the kids, and you'll find her playing crack the egg on a trampoline with them.

☼ southern butch ellie who hunts with a rifle in the backwoods. she'll come home with a couple rabbits or a deer if she is so lucky. keeps the rifle stored away safely, but sometimes her mind drifts to your safety. if anyone even so much as thought about trying to harm you on her property? rifle is going to be used for more than forest critter.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves getting a strap blowjob, whatever you wanna call it. she gets asked all the time why lesbians use strap-ons if they don't like cock—this is why. the way the tan plastic shines neatly with your saliva. the way she can last longer than any guy getting a blowjob, fucking your throat for as long as she so pleases, knowing you love gagging for her dick.

☼ southern butch ellie who fucks you in the bed of her '97 pick-up truck, a few blankets underneath you. she'll have you in missionary with your legs wrapped around her hips, and she handles you so easily. she doesn't sputter like a man. she fucks you hard and deep, encouraging you to dig your nails into her back. she doesn't stop until she knows you're worn out.

☼ southern butch ellie who loves a good home-cooked meal from you, but knows how to whip up some bomb ass breakfast herself. hashbrowns and sunny-side up eggs, a few strip of bacon or sausage links on the side for you when you rise. since she always wakes earlier than you, she has the advantage of being able to cook for you before you are able to fuss about her morning chores and how you should be the one to cook.

☼ southern butch ellie who hates overall traffic and chaos in the city, but will drive through an interstate to one in november for every major holiday. she isn't the richest person, but likes picking up overtime to get you that specific teacup set you saw in a flea market or a lacy pair of victoria's secret panties in the mall that she catches you staring at weeks prior.

☼ southern butch ellie who makes a mixtape for the nights the two of you drink beer on the hood of her truck and roll a couple joints. and yeah, it's the classics of the south. george strait, the charlie daniels band, dolly parton, johnny cash, shania twain, willie nelson, etc. she throws in some soft older love songs like coney island baby, somethin' stupid, i will always love you, dedicated to the one i love, forever, be my baby, and tonight will you belong to me.

taglist: @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @witzs, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @meow4510, @eriiwaii, @g4ys0n, @mitskimisfit, @ruelezz, @bewareofmyglock. want to be tagged? click here

[butch-pilot]

weak butch who doesn't work out and spends all their time at home so it's easy to pin them down and tease them as much as you want, because while they might whine about it, they're also blushing and squirming

[starlightseinz]

I get the job done, My Dear.

'Cause you ain't gotta tell me, it's just in my nature So take it like a taker, 'cause, baby, I'm a giver Ain't no need to hurry, 'cause, baby, I deliver Ain't no country boy quitter I get the job done I get the job done The Giver By Chappell Roan

Sevika x Fem! Reader - Y'all are married.

I made a dumb mistake thinking the song was about domestic shit so here you have implied sexy times in the end and domestic fluff she fixes things around the house for you.

Yours and Sevika's life went on a full 360 ever since she had a chair in the council her schedule would be jam-packed and was always going home late some times you'd be up at four in the morning waiting only for her to arrive at five am instead but nonetheless as her wife you were more than willing to wait.

But even though it seemed like she didn't have the time for it she was still The Giver in your relationship may it be sex or just daily works around the house one time the kitchen sink had broken down refusing for you to call a plumber she went on full worker mode taking out that tool box Jinx had given her.

There you sat from the kitchen aisle watching your wife grunting as she fixed the drainage pipes of the sink watching as her arms flex and twitch from the work she was putting on them soon you were cut off from your day dream as you heard her voice "My Dear could you pass me the pipe just above the sink"

Nodding as you hopped down and handed her the pipe as she went on to continue fixing it your eyes kept wandering her body as you stood beside her full view of her body flexing under that white tank top that did no work hiding her body with the amount of sweat she had.

It didn't take a while the kitchen was full on fixed you've fixed her a cold cup of beer as a thank you smiling widely as you hand it to her "Oh what would I do without you Sev?" you chuckle arms wrapped around her waist chin resting her organic shoulder she rolled her eyes jokingly at your words as she finished the beer in one go before both her arms now wrapped around you.

"Ya think I didn't notice those wandering eyes of yours earlier doll? were you eye fucking me?" she teased a smirk plastered on her face as she leaned closer to you, not even minding her sweat as she nuzzled her face against your jaw before leaving open wet kisses on your neck humming softly as she pulled you closer one leg of hers moved in-between your thighs next thing you knew a soft whine escapes your lips.

"I guess I can make up for the times I kept you up waiting, I'll keep you up all night with something else" she lifts you off your feet walking towards your bedroom in no rush as you made out on the way there oh what a night will be for you two...

Hibou's final thoughts : after my dumbass thought the song was all fluffy and domestic I was originally writing this as a full on fluff but meh, had to add that yall did the DIRTAYYYY anws i cannot write smut yest maybe in the future! we'll never know! hope you guys enjoyed it! xoxo

[arkred]

I had this problem when I was a child, I'm a old milleniam.

So my mom usted to beat me when the teacher called home about it. It was a normal AND expected reaction at the time. If you're a girl your mamá hit you, if you're a boy you got double from your dad

My dad hate this shit AND still I remember at least 5 times that he slap or spanked my little brother. But It was never about school.

My Bro was kind of a pyro in his younger years, he got his room on fire twice. Those were the first times I remember my dad hiting him. A slap and months later a spanking.

My mom used to hit me so hard with a belt that I had yo stay home for days (out of school) 'cause my brother and cousins had broken a window playing soccer.

I was two years older that them.

It was, in her eyes, my fault. I should have reing and take care of all 3 of them.

Now, I still have a couple of scars in the back of my back, legs and butt.

But I'm a terrible woman just 'cause I refuse to spend more time with my mom.

Add to childhood trauma that at my age she still calls my partner just a friend, or a phase after I'm a proud lesbian since more that a decade... Yeah.

I love my parents, I do. But fuck their vías AND their way to try to bond with me as nothing in the past matter anymore.

Oh, and before anyone say something?

Yeah, I was legally "charged" with ADHD since I was 7, but "our kid Is not insane" AND "drugs made a drugie" was a thing at the time.

When I was a kid I kept failing classes because I'd lose my homework. I'd finish it, but between the dining room table and the classroom it would just walk away. Sometimes it ended up in my backpack, sometimes it didn't; sometimes I finished the homework at school and it got home in my backpack but wasn't there the next day.

To attempt to address this, my parents got me a neon orange folder to put in my backpack; it was my homework folder, all homework was to go into that folder and that folder only, and it was to only come out of that folder when it was being worked on. I was to put homework in the homework folder as soon as it was assigned and if I'd worked on it, put it back in the folder as soon as it was finished. The logic here was that using the folder was supposed to be automatic, and you wanted a bright color so it wouldn't get lost in the depths of a backpack.

I think I lost about eight of those before my parents stopped buying orange folders.

So it was very frustrating to search "how to be organized at work as an adult with ADHD" only to get a list that said "set alarms and write things down and try to make friends with a more organized person" which was immediately followed by tips to help your ADHD child stay organized and the one right at the top was to put their homework in a bright folder so they couldn't lose it.

If you have been harmed by the ADHD Tips Industrial Complex you may be entitled to a packet of fun-dip and a cactus cooler as consolation for losing your homework folder again.

[crimson-femme]

𝚋𝚞𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚖𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

table of contents: books; anthologies, history, novels, erotica, photography. films; movies, documentaries, shorts. miscellaneous; dissertations, articles, etc. note: everything (minus a few) has a link to access the media! if i am able to find the missing links i will attach them along with adding new content. there are a couple things that are not specifically butchfemme, but i kept them because i feel that they fit. enjoy!

𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜 + 𝚌𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚕𝚎𝚜

୨୧ A Restricted Country by Joan Nestle

୨୧ Brazen Femme: Queering Femininity by Chloë Brushwood Rose, Anna Camilleri 

୨୧ Butch/Femme: Inside Lesbian Gender by Sally R. Munt, Cherry Smyth

୨୧ Butch is a Noun by S. Bear Bergman

୨୧ Femme/Butch: New Considerations of the Way We Want to Go by Michelle Gibson, Deborah Meem

୨୧ Femme: Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls by Laura Harris, Elizabeth Crocker 

୨୧ Lesbian Culture: The Lives, Work, Ideas, Art and Visions of Lesbians Past and Present by Julia Penelope, Susan Wolfe

୨୧ On Butch and Femme: A Compiled Readings by I.M. Epstein

୨୧ Persistence: All Ways Butch and Femme by Ivan Coyote, Zena Sharman

୨୧ Render Me, Gender Me: Lesbians Talk Sex, Class, Color, Nation, Studmuffins... by Kath Weston

୨୧ S/he by Minnie Bruce Pratt

୨୧ The Femme Mystique by Leslea Newman

୨୧ The Femme's Guide To The Universe by Shar Rednour

୨୧ The Lesbian Erotic Dance: Butch, Femme, Androgyny, and Other Rhythms by JoAnn Loulan

୨୧ The Little Butch Book by Leslea Newman

୨୧ The Persistent Desire: A Femme-Butch Reader by Joan Nestle

୨୧ Tomboys!: Tales of Dyke Derring-Do by Lynne Y. Fletcher, Karen Barber

୨୧ Tomboy Survival Guide by Ivan Coyote

𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢

NOTE ⋆ there is more history content in the film section as well as historical fiction in the novel section!!!

୨୧ Appearances Can Be Deceiving: Butch-Femme Fashion and Queer Legibility in New York City, 1945–1969 by Alix Gitner

୨୧ Baby, You Are My Religion: Women, Gay Bars, And Theology Before Stonewall by Marie Cartier

୨୧ Before Stonewall: The Making of a Gay and Lesbian Community by Andrea Weiss

୨୧ Boots of Leather, Slippers of Gold: The History of a Lesbian Community by Elizabeth Lapovsky Kennedy, Madaline D. Davis

୨୧ GLBT Historical Society: Museum & Archives ⋆ general LGBT archives, but a very important and great source

୨୧ Making History: The Struggle for Gay and Lesbian Equal Rights: 1945-1990: An Oral History by Eric Marcus

୨୧ Odd Girls and Twilight Lovers: A History of Lesbian Life In Twentieth-Century America by Lillian Faderman

୨୧ Uninvited: Classical Hollywood Cinema and Lesbian Representability by Patricia White

୨୧ Unsuitable: A History of Lesbian Fashion by Eleanor Medhurst

𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚜

୨୧ A Crystal Diary: A Novel by Frankie Hucklenbroich ⋆ The razor-edged, compelling, often wryly humorous story hustles us from the blood-and-beer-drenched corners of her St. Louis meat-packing district '50s youth, through the sex-soaked Hollywood alleys of her '60s baby butch years, into the druggy metropolis of '70s San Francisco.

୨୧ Beebo Brinker by Ann Bannon ⋆ Beeboo, a butch 17-year-old farm girl newly arrived in New York after she is driven from her Wisconsin home town for wearing drag to the State Fair. Befriended by the gay Jack Mann, a father-figure with a weakness for runaways, Beebo sets out to find love.

୨୧ Departure from the Script by Jae ⋆ An aspiring actress meeting photographer, femme meeting butch in this light-hearted lesbian romance set in Hollywood.

୨୧ Doc and Fluff: The Dystopian Tale of a Girl and Her Biker by Pat Califia ⋆ Set in the bleak and not-too-distant future of a culture in its death throes, Doc and Fluff careens through the lives of a pair of outlaw women struggling to survive on the road.

୨୧ Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo ⋆ America in 1954 is not a safe place for two girls to fall in love, especially not in Chinatown. Red-Scare paranoia threatens everyone, including Chinese Americans like Lily. With deportation looming over her father��despite his hard-won citizenship—Lily and Kath risk everything to let their love see the light of day.

୨୧ Lucy and Mickey by Red Jordan Arobateau ⋆ Lesbian life in the late 1950s, early '60s; and a powerful romance & sexual drama between two females, Lucy & Mickey.

୨୧ Patience and Sarah by Isabel Miller ⋆ In an early puritanical New England town, a butch and femme fall in love and discover they can run a farm and live together away from the world that sought to limit them and their love.

୨୧ Satan's Best by Red Jordan Arobateau ⋆ volume #1 in the ten book lesbian biker series THE OUTLAW CHRONICLES. In this action-packed novel we are introduced to the gang of raunchy and glamorous biker women, including the 5 Warlords who run the Outlaws. Enter beautiful blond butch Angel–lone rider on the storm.

୨୧ Stone Butch Blues by Leslie Feinberg ⋆ The life of Jess Goldberg, a working-class Jewish butch lesbian in New York from the 1940s through the 1970s.

୨୧ The Well of Loneliness by Radclyffe Hall ⋆ The timeless struggle of a butch and femme couple to be accepted by "polite" society. This now classic was banned outright upon publication in 1928.

𝚎𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚎𝚜

୨୧ Back To Basics: A Butch-Femme Anthology by Theresa Szymanski

୨୧ Sometimes She Lets Me: Best Butch Femme Erotica by Tristan Taormino

୨୧ The Harder She Comes: Butch/Femme Erotica by D.L. King

𝚙𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚢 𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍

୨୧ Butch/Femme edited by M.G. Soares

୨୧ Butch: Not Like The Other Girls by SD Holman

୨୧ Dagger On Butch Women by Lily Burana, Roxxie Linnea Due

୨୧ Love Bites by Del LaGrace Volcano

୨୧ Making Out: The Book Of Lesbian Sex And Sexuality by Zoe Schramm-Evans, Laurence Jaugey Paget

୨୧ Nothing But The Girl: The Blatant Lesbian Image by Susie Bright, Jill Posener

୨୧ The Butch/Femme Photo Project by Wendi Kali

୨୧ The Drag King Book by Del LaGrace Volcano, Judith "Jack" Halberstam

୨୧ The Femme's Guide to the Universe by Shar Rednour

𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚜

୨୧ A Complicated Queerness: Living Femme in a Dyke Community dir. Johanna Buchignani, Emily Hillman ⋆ short film: This film investigates the ways in which gender, power and sexism are lived and experienced within the San Francisco Mission dyke community. The documentary aims to promote awareness of and discussion about the prejudice and invisibility of queer femininity, in order to build alliances and healthier communities.

୨୧ Before Stonewall (1984) dir. Greta Schiller, Robert Rosenberg ⋆ documentary: The history of the Gay and Lesbian community before the Stonewall riots began the major gay rights movement.

୨୧ Bound (1996) dir. The Wachowskis ⋆ thriller/crime: Corky, a tough female ex-convict working on an apartment renovation in a Chicago building meets a couple living next door, Caesar, a paranoid mobster, and Violet.

୨୧ By Hook or By Crook (2001) dir. Harry Dodge, Silas Howard ⋆ crime/romance: A buddy film that chronicles two butches, Shy and Valentine, who collide by chance in the San Francisco streets. Shy is immersed in daydreams about the loving father they lost and Valentine is searching for the mother they never met. Like-hearted mischievous souls, the pair stumbles into a series of shambolic shenanigans — along with Valentine’s girlfriend, Billie.

୨୧ Dream Girls (1994) dir. Kim Longinotto, Jano Williams ⋆ documentary: Women join Japan's all-female Takarazuka Revue musical theater troupe, portraying men's roles. The film explores gender dynamics, desires, and complexities of female identity in Japanese society through these performers' experiences.

୨୧ Gay Tape: Butch and Femme (1985) by Cecilia Dougherty ⋆ short: The Gay Tape brings “a little fine-tuning��� to the question of representation, honing in on the subjective particularities of the butch-femme dynamic as experienced by members of Dougherty’s local Bay Area dating pool. 

୨୧ If These Walls Could Talk 2 (2000) dir. Jane Anderson, Anne Heche, Martha Coolidge ⋆ romance/drama: This anthology of short films tells the stories of three lesbian couples - who live in the same house at different periods of time - who are at a crossroads in their lives. The second story includes a motorcycle riding, leather jacket and tie wearing butch, Amy.

୨୧ Last Call at Maud's (1993) dir. Paris Poirier ⋆ documentary: Some genuinely wild women – and some more demure but no less lively types – take center stage in Paris Poirier’s vivacious documentary about the life and times of Maud’s, the longest running lesbian bar ever.

୨୧ Shinjuku Boys (1995) dir. Jano Williams, Kim Longinotto ⋆ documentary: This documentary offers rich insight into gender and sexuality in Japan via a candid portrait of Kazuki, Tatsu, and Gaish, three trans masculine hosts working at the New Marilyn Club in Tokyo’s bustling Shinjuku district. As the film follows them at home and on the job, all three talk frankly about their lives, revealing their views on love, sex, and identity.

୨୧ Stormé: The Lady of the Jewel Box (1987) dir. Michelle Parkerson ⋆ documentary/short film: Through archival clips, Stormé DeLarverie, bodygaurd of a women's club and former drag king looks back on the grandeur of the Jewel Box Revue and its celebration of pure entertainment in the face of homophobia and segregation.

୨୧ Stud Life (2012) dir. Campbell X ⋆ romance/drama: JJ, a lesbian, works as a wedding photographer with Seb, a gay man who is her best friend. After JJ falls in love with a gorgeous diva, her friendship with Seb becomes strained, and she may be forced to choose between Seb and her lover.

୨୧ The Aggressives (2005) dir. Daniel Peddle ⋆ documentary: The Aggressives is an exposé on the subculture of masculine presenting people of color and their femme counterparts. Filmed over five years in New York City, the featured subjects share their dreams, secrets, and deepest fears.

୨୧ The Watermelon Woman (1996) dir. Cheryl Dunye ⋆ romance/comedy: An aspiring black lesbian filmmaker researches an obscure 1930s black actress billed as the Watermelon Woman.

𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚘𝚞𝚜

୨୧ A Butch Road Map by Ivan Coyote ⋆ spoken word

୨୧ A Dyke's Bike Repair Handbook by Jill Taylor ⋆ motorcycle care/repair handbook, this one is so random i just love it lol

୨୧ Are Butch and Fem Working-Class and Anti-Feminist? by Sara L. Crawley ⋆ article

୨୧ Butch Between the Wars: A Pre-History of Butch Style in Twentieth-Century Literature, Music, and Film by Karen Allison Hammer ⋆ dissertation

୨୧ Feminizing Theory: Making Space for Femme Theory by Rhea Ashley Hoskin ⋆ thesis

୨୧ Femme: Feminists, Lesbians, and Bad Girls by Laura Harris, Elizabeth Crocker

୨୧ Lesbian Identity and the Politics of Butch-Femme by Amy Goodloe ⋆ paper/review

୨୧ Lineage To My Femme Foremothers by A.N. ⋆ zine

୨୧ Lipstick & Dipstick's Essential Guide to Lesbian Relationships by Gina Daggett, Kathy Belge

୨୧ Narrating and Negotiating Butch and Femme: Storying Lesbian Selves in a Heteronormative World by Sara L. Crawley ⋆ dissertation

୨୧ On the Appropriation of Femme from Lesbians Over Everything, a discussion between four femmes ⋆ article

୨୧ The Misunderstood Gender: A Model of Modern Femme Identity by Heidi Levitt, Elisabeth Gerrish, Katherine Hiestand ⋆ study

୨୧ The Mythic Mannish Lesbian: Radclyffe Hall and the New Woman by Esther Newton

୨୧ To All the Beautiful, Kick-Ass, and Fierce, Full-Bodied Femmes by Ivan Coyote ⋆ spoken word

i was meaning to post this for when i hit 1k followers, but i somehow have already surpassed that. it is weird to think that i started this blog on january 27. thank you all so much for following and interacting. i hope you enjoy this list and my blog in general!!

much love 💋

[zaunian-lesbian-daddy]

WW2 lesbian love story!!!!

MINORS/MEN DNI!!!!

Hey everyone! If this does well I'm going to turn this into a full short story! I want to see who would be interested in that. This short story is going to be based on the myth that “the face you wear in this life is the face you loved most in your last”. It's going to be a tragic love story with smut mixed in! I left the smut out for verious reasons but it will be in the short story! I promise lots of happy things will happen too! Let me know what you think and prepare for a lesbian love story that transcends lifetimes!

WARNINGS: lesbian content, fluff, mentions of war, sexual content, historical dates, WW2 content, soulmates, multiple deaths, mention of suicide, mention of birth, some swearing. (that's all I can think of right now)

3.2K words

It was June 27th 1940 when I bumped into her in the dairy aisle of the grocery store. I was 18 at the time and she was 19, the wedding ring on her finger glinted in the fluorescent lights when she brushed back her long brown sugar colored hair with her hand. Her warm chocolate brown eyes landed on me, and I felt like I was frozen to the spot, she was so beautiful. I soaked in every tiny detail I could of her; the light brown freckles painting her face and her pink pouty lips. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I'm so in my head I don't see the people around me,” when she spoke it sounded like warm honey.

Being gay was almost unheard of at the time, I knew I liked women, but those words would never leave my mouth. 

“I was the one who bumped into you, I should be the one apologizing,” I laugh a little trying to keep my composure. I keep the conversation going so she doesn't walk away, “My name is Evelyn, what's yours?” I hold my hand out to shake hers, it's as soft as satin. She takes my hand “Rose,” her lips forming into a beautiful smile. 

We talked for a while and ended up doing some shopping together that day. When we went our separate ways, we made sure we could reach each other through the operators who worked the phones back then. 

The next few months were filled with long conversations over the phone, her voice lighting a fire deep within my core. Dinners at her and her husband John’s house, where growing feelings on my end makes the word desire sound pitiful. Little did I know at the time, she felt the same way as I did. 

War was spreading through the European countries, we caught wind of what was happening in Germany here and there. That didn't burst our bubble though, months turned into a year. Tensions were rising and there was talk of a draft for all able bodied men between 18 to 35 years old to join the war. We were in her kitchen late one night, crickets were chirping as we spoke about the news. 

“Do you think John is going to be picked in the first draft?” I keep my voice low so he doesn't hear me over the radio he has turned on. Rose nods her head slowly but I don't see sadness in her eyes, which is strange, because doesn't she love him? “I have no doubt he will be one of the first men to be picked in the draft, it's a gut feeling,” her voice is just as soft as mine was. 

I debated on asking her why she doesn't seem sad about it. As soon as I went to ask, we heard John's footsteps approaching from the living room. We both look towards the door as he walks in. “I’m going to head to bed,” he speaks as he walks over to her. He places a soft kiss on her lips, I watch it happen, I always do. I think about how her lips would feel on mine. 

I snap out of my thoughts as John gives me a nod, I smile at him, then without a pause he leaves. I turn my attention back to Rose, she almost looks sick, her face is slightly pale. I study her for a second before speaking, “what's wrong?” I've known her for almost a year and a half. I can tell when she is thinking too hard about something. 

“I'm thinking about if he gets drafted, how will I support myself alone?” she finally looks at me. Before I can stop myself the words seem to fall out of my mouth, “You won't be alone.. I’ll always be here with you and we can figure it out together,” my mouth goes dry. She looks at me before offering me a sweet smile.

A long pause happens, we just sit and look at each other. It doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, more like something unspoken. She stands slowly while keeping her eyes on me. She rounds the table, my eyes trace every movement she makes. She is now standing next to me, I have to look up at her from my sitting position.

Her eyes are softer, her lips parted slightly. There is a charge in the air that I can't describe. She moves slowly, cradling my cheeks with her hands. My breathing hitches as I stare up at her, she breaks the silence with a soft whisper, “May I kiss you?” 

My mind goes blank, my eyes still locked on hers. I take a deep shaky breath before I end up nodding, she doesn't seem to hesitate once I give permission, she bends down pressing her lips against mine. I melt into her, our lips dancing together in a passionate kiss. When she finally pulls away, we are both breathless.

She giggles a little with a smile, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,”. I smile back at her, with a laugh of my own. “I’m glad you did it, because I've wanted it too,”. That night we experimented in her kitchen, exploring each other's bodies with our hands and mouths. Doing things God would surely send us to hell for. 

We talked about how we both knew we were attracted to women but it could never be something we did in public. We found solace in each other. Months of us exploring our sexuality, hidden behind closed doors, a dark, sinful, secret. The kisses and touches we shared were warm despite the incoming war. 

Between the passionate nights Rose and I shared, my family often pushed me to find a man who could take care of me and give me children. If they knew what I did behind closed doors I'm sure I would have been disowned and kicked out, since I still lived at home. I did as I was told, filling my days with dates with ugly men who promised me the world. After performing all day, I would go fill my nights with Rose’s sinful touches.

As time went on, talk of the draft became real. John got sent off to Germany, not long after the bombing of Pearl harbor. The dust hadn’t settled yet, when word broke of women entering the workforce to fill the spaces the men had left. Rose and I started doing factory work, producing munitions for the war. 

My family let me move in with her since we were so close and she needed help paying for the house while John wasn't there. I had to promise them to keep looking for a husband to do so.  With the war raging and so few men not fighting in the war it was easier to make excuses for why I remained single. 

It felt natural living and working with Rose, we decided that we could call ourselves a “couple” but it was only meant for behind closed doors. The nights were filled with long talks, making love to each other, and falling deeper in love with each other. I had to remind Rose several times to write to her husband, to keep the act up, so when he did come home he wouldn't think anything improper was happening.

About eight months after John deployed, soldiers showed up at the house, Rose was home and I had picked up an extra shift at the factory that day. They gave her the news that he had been KIA during the Dieppe Raid, he was one of three Americans who died that day. They offered a short, insincere, apology then left her standing there. When I came home that night she didn't say much, gave me a kiss, and handed me the letter. 

I read it over, then studied her closely. She didn't look like she had cried at all, she was acting normal. Over the next few days she seemed completely fine. Maybe it was because she never loved him or maybe it was the fact that we had been in a “relationship” for so long it didn't matter to her. Either way, I celebrated in my head because I knew there was nothing standing between us now. 

The war was making the days fly by, work at the factory was grueling. We even made a hook near the door where we would hang our carabiners that were full of tools we needed to use at our job. One night I was so tired I came home so tired I hooked them together by accident, it became our running joke. 

Rose would always find ways to make coming home interesting, meeting me in the nude, leaving notes telling me to find her and fuck her, or just loving on me. I did the same for her, at one point I left my belt on the counter with a note saying “find me, tie me up, use me however you want”. Life was good, no matter the war raging just outside our door.

I didn't really go see my family anymore, it wasn't important. Everytime I went to see them they would ask about me finding a husband. I couldn't imagine life without Rose in it, it's like God made us for one another in every lifetime.

In April of 1945 we got the news that Hitler had been killed, the entire United States was celebrating. The years of Rose and I being together had been magical. We met other like minded women through our job at the factory, there were other lesbians who we became friends with. Nights filled with gossip, wine, giggles and games. That's until Rose got sick.

The first time she collapsed was about a month after Hitler got killed. She became pale, got sick and collapsed on the floor. Luckily I was home, I rushed her to the hospital but they wouldn't allow me to stay with her because I wasn't family.

Months followed of them running as many tests as they could, multiple trips to the hospital, long nights staying awake to make sure nothing happened to her while I was sleeping. We got word of other women who were getting sick just like Rose was, they all had one thing in common, working in factories around TNT.

There were no answers and she was only getting worse, the life I once saw in her was fading away every single day. I prayed to the God who would surely damn Rose and I to hell for the kind of relationship we had. I hoped he would listen, maybe give the doctors answers so I wouldn't lose the person I've loved most.

I made her quit working when she got sick, whenever I got home, I would crawl into bed and stare at her. Take in her soft curves, the beauty in her face, the lines that formed over the years. I would hold back my tears till I was alone so I could remain strong for her. When I got home tonight I did the same as usual, she was awake this time.

Her warm brown eyes found me, she gave a half hearted smile. “I love you so much,” her voice seemed hollow, I couldn't help the tears welling in my eyes. “I love you more,” my voice cracks as I speak. She turns her body so we are laying face to face. We never had the death talk because it was never on the table, I couldn't lose her. 

“I will find you in every lifetime, my love. If I am a dog in my next life, I will find you and make you my owner. If I am an ant, I will find every drop of sugar in your house just to be close to you. Even if we are worlds apart I will find my way to you.” her smile is weak, tears are welling in her eyes too now. I can't help but stare at her, why does this sound like a goodbye?

“You aren't leaving me in this one by myself Rose..” I have no choice, tears pour out of my eyes as I pull her into me. Hugging her so tight I'm probably hurting her, but I can't let go, not now, what will I do without her? “I don't think we have a choice,” her voice is weak and muffled by my shoulder. 

We cry until we fall asleep in each other's arms. In the morning when I wake up, we are still in the same position. I pull back slowly and that's when I notice, she's gone. It was a goodbye last night, somehow she knew. I just stare at her for a while until I finally get up. I'm numb but I need to get the operator to send the police.

It happens so fast, they take her, and since I’m not family, I don't get to help plan her funeral. Her family takes over, the next week seems to come in a blur. I don't go to work, I sit in the house and look at the things we collected over the years. Our friends come over to help me, but when I see them together all it does is remind me of her. 

I go to the funeral, her family doesn't let me speak. What would I say anyway? How much I loved her? How lonely am I without her? I sit and stare at the coffin till it's over. 

When I get home the days seem to blur, I don't leave, I dont allow people in, I cant even eat. My family wants me to move back in with them but I don't, this is the only thing I have left of her, so I sit and exist in misery. Then I remember her words “I will find you in every lifetime,” I say outloud to myself, hardly recognizing my own voice. 

I stand up slowly and walk to grab a piece of paper and a pen to write my final note. It reads, “I don't know if anyone will care or read this note. This home was shared by my partner and I. Years of love, tenderness and laughs. I loved her more than life itself, that's why I'm saying goodbye too. To my friends I'm sure you'll understand and I'm sorry. To my family, I hope you forgive my sins. Sincerely, Evelyn.”

With that, I take the note and go to the garage. Our car sits there just like any normal day. I climb in and put the note on the dash, grabbing the keys, I start the car. “I hope you are right Rose, if you are, I look forward to meeting you again..” I roll down the window, relax into my seat and listen to the car's engine. My eyes close, my breathing slows, and then, all the pain stops.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I open my eyes again all I can do is cry, fluorescent lights burn my eyes. I can't speak and my body feels weird. I try to move but have no control over my movements. My limbs flail and I can feel tears streaking my face. Then I’m met with a warm body and a soothing voice, something familiar about it. Before I close my eyes again I hear a woman's voice say “Her name is Iris,” it's melodic enough to put me into a deep sleep.

Turns out, I was born again in 1998. Growing up my family didnt have alot but it was enough. I never went hungry, had toys I could play with. I learned to walk, talk, run, explore, build and destroy. My school years went smoothly, I was a solid student, B average. 

I had boyfriends, a girlfriend that my parents had no idea about. They never talked about being against the LGBT but they never mentioned being in support either, so I figured my safest bet was to keep the fact that I found women attractive, quiet.

The years passed, now I'm finding myself standing in front of the mirror looking at myself. Today is my birthday. I'm turning nineteen years old. The person I'm staring at in the mirror seems so familiar. Not just in the way that I know myself, but something more. Like I've seen her before somewhere, this face doesn't seem like mine. Maybe someone else? 

I touch my face, my eyes tracking the movements I make with my fingers. Chocolate brown eyes, my lips are pink, light brown freckles spread evenly over my nose and cheeks. My hair is long, a warm brown color to it. 

I snap out of my trance when my phone dings. I look down to see a message from my friend, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY BITCH!!!”. I can hear her voice through the message, I giggle then text back. “Thank you! Hope you can come to my party tonight!” I exit the bathroom to go sit on my bed as I send the message. 

While I wait for her to text back I open up instagram, the first post I see is a black background with white lettering that says “the face you wear during this life is the face of the person you loved the most in your last”. I pause on it, reading the words over and over, when my friend's text pops up, I ignore it, and head straight to google. 

I type in the words I saw on the post. It comes up as a Chinese myth, so I clicked on the first link. When I open it, my eyes scan over the words. Before I can finish reading the article something flashes in my brain. A memory? I'm looking into a woman's eyes, identical to mine. She looks sick and sad. Actually, her whole face looks identical to mine. “I will find you in every lifetime,” rings through my head.

I drop my phone on the floor, I barely hear the thud. I'm panting heavily as I stare at the article that's still open on my phone. “What the fuck was that?” I say out loud as if someone will give me the answer. 

I hope you enjoyed the story! Let me know if you want me to make this into a bigger story! I promise there will be smut, lesbian love, laughs, cries and so much more! Will Iris find her love again? Will Rose keep her promise? Will it be a lesbian happily ever after?? If you made it this far thank you for reading!

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ thinking of summer slasher!pazzi...

best friends to lovers!pazzi. men & minors dni.

cw: slight gore, sexual tension, light sexual content, manipulation, morally ambiguous!p, morally ambiguous!a, the power of lesbians vs murder, unhealthy relationships bc y'all...p is killing people. but she loves her girl.

notes: i did not intend for this be 10.2k when i started. so, there's that. as always, feel free to give me all of your thoughts in my inbox. let me know who you think the other killer is. i try my best to respond to it all.

p.s. please don't date your best friend who's obsessed with you if she's murdering people, no matter how beautiful and charismatic she is.

okay, love you.

𓇼 it’s one of those summers marked by memories smeared with heat and a lazy humidity that fills you with a sun-soaked exhaustion. the girls are taking part in a training camp for the season. they flush with warmth and glitter with sweat, muscles flexing under tanned skin as they stumble in and out of cool gyms and concrete courts. the best parts come after when they lay alongside one another, tan lines left behind by the tightly tied straps of their bikini bottoms, slices of sunburned skin coming up rosy despite the efforts to slather on sunscreen. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. they know one another, can recognize one another by laugh—morgan’s is sweeter, clear like a bell. kk’s is child-like, loose giggles with a rise in the middle. they know who is standing above them by the slant of a shadow. this perfect space, the smell of it will haunt them forever: something deep blue, sticky with coconut, cream, and vanilla. a memory of artificial fruit smoke and the moon shape of golden thighs atop golden thighs.

𓇼 at the center of it all lies paige with her river of blonde hair only growing blonder in the sun, her violet swimsuit revealing perfect scoops of sun-darkened skin. she keeps her sunglasses tucked right on top of her head, her toned stomach flexing in and out as she rotates on the soft blanket they have spread out on the grass (there are no more chairs). 

𓇼 her shadow, azzi, has her head right on her thigh. she feels bleary and disoriented, the sun shining down with a strength that feels personal. her swimsuit is sugary baby pink, a sweet match to the girl lying underneath her. her curls have been dragged into a high bun in frustration, baby hairs slick against her neck as she sweats. her belly piercing sparkles, calls the eye to the soft dip of her hips and the thin strip of her bikini bottom.

𓇼 paige is terribly hot below her but she wouldn’t move azzi for anything, instead pressing loose strands out of the other girl’s eyes as azzi tries to sleep. 

𓇼 eventually azzi rolls over, patting a hand loosely on paige’s stomach as a thank you for being her human pillow. paige grins, gives in to her boyish nature and pinches the curve where azzi’s thigh meets her ass. 

𓇼 “you’re such a fucking teenage boy,” azzi murmurs. paige laughs, reties the strings of her swimsuit top. “you love me.”

𓇼 azzi does. it makes her stomach roll. 

𓇼 the world is safe here. they are safe here. and then they hear the news.

azzi can’t hear anything past the buzzing in her ears.

three female students found dead. 

the newscaster's voice snakes around her, and drags her to the pool’s tiled floor. her chest burns as she holds her breath, her heart close to bursting.  the world is watery and filtered bright blue through the pool water; the sky is an endless slur of pinks, oranges, and purples. 

the sun is setting, the world going dark, and there are three students—three girls—dead by knife at a camp nearby. three girls she knew in passing, had watched stretch and laugh together on the sands just before a friendly game of beach volleyball. 

the police had said they might’ve been dead for days, up to two weeks. aubrey had switched off the broadcast, visibly shaken and trying to spare the rest of them. jana had sat silent and still, frozen as the older girl pried the remote free from her grip.

she might be crying. with all of this water, it’s so hard to tell. azzi closes her eyes right as the pool lights come on and more water surges in from the jets, the chlorine smell made almost unbearable by the onslaught of the propellers. she has at most fifteen minutes before someone notices she’s gone—five max before paige realizes she’s slipped out from beside her. 

azzi stays under until her lungs scream, until she can’t.

until the burn in her lungs forces her up, air slicing hot into her chest as she breaks the surface. the sky is darker now, the last streaks of sunlight bleeding out into deep navy. the lampposts lining the pool deck have flickered on, turning the concrete a smokier grey and the water a deeper, artificial blue, shimmering against the tile.

azzi drags a hand down her face, slicking back her hair with wrinkled fingertips, and that’s when she sees her—paige, sitting at the water’s edge, feet dipped in, watching. azzi exhales, slow, tries to settle the way her body still hums with nerves.

“you good?” paige asks, voice easy, head tilting just slightly.

azzi doesn’t answer right away. she pushes forward, the water parting around her as she swims to where paige sits. she stops between her legs, lets her head tip forward, forehead resting against paige’s thigh.

paige doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shift away. just smooths a hand over the crown of her curls, fingers lingering at the nape of her neck.

“i’m really scared,” azzi says quietly, voice barely above a whisper. “i knew those girls.”

paige hums, a soft, knowing sound. “i know. jesus. i hope they catch those fucking freaks.”

azzi shifts closer, pressing her face into paige’s stomach. she clutches at paige’s back, now covered by an oversized camp shirt, fingers twisting in the cotton fabric. it’s a hold that feels instinctive, that’s symptomatic of the heavy intimacy of their friendship—something azzi’s done before, maybe a thousand times, but never quite like this. paige lets her, like she always does, one hand still at the nape of azzi’s neck, the other resting easy on her shoulder. 

she’s warm and solid. the kind of presence that makes azzi feel safer.

for a moment, they just stay like that, the quiet settling thick between them. the distant hum of crickets, the low lap of water against the mouth of the pool. paige is the first to break it.

“what, you think you’re in a horror movie or something?” she teases, but there’s something serious about her tone, too.

azzi huffs a quiet laugh, but it barely reaches her eyes. “maybe,” she mutters. “i mean the situation matches up.”

paige tilts her head, studies her. “you’d make a shitty final girl, you know.”

azzi scoffs, pulling back just enough to glance up at her. “excuse me?”

paige grins, slow, shifting the hand on her shoulder to tap a finger against azzi’s chin. “you’d be too nice about it. you’d try to help, and then—” she makes a little slicing motion across her throat. “lights out.”

azzi rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitch, betraying her.

“lucky for me,” she says, resting her chin against paige’s thigh now, eyes flickering up, “i have a history of surviving things.”

paige hums, gaze first flicking behind azzi as if she can see the puckered scar over her knee from here, and then back to her face like she’s turning something over in her mind. then, with a quiet finality, she says, “hey. you’re okay.”

it should be comforting. it almost is. but it lingers, just a little too long.

and for some reason, it doesn’t feel like reassurance. it feels like a promise. azzi squeezes the sides of paige stomach and pushes past the unease in her own. 

“we both are,” she says.

𓇼 so, then it changes. no one goes anywhere alone, day or night. it takes some getting used to, the constant partnership. it’s more than they are used to, even as teammates. the extra measures come with their own irritations. 

𓇼 jana grumbles as she’s basically kicked awake by sarah to go to the bathroom with her at three in the morning. morgan’s nose twitches anxiously like a rabbit as she asks aubrey to come to get food with her at the mess hall, and the others try not to laugh when aubrey makes an off-hand remark about how she never realized just how much morgan snacks in a day.

𓇼 but azzi…azzi feels a little like the chosen one. because god, paige never complains. 

𓇼 if azzi wakes in the early morning with an urge to pee, paige is already unlinking their legs in their shared bed and sliding out to go with her. when azzi can’t sleep and sneaks to the living room of their cabin, just to read on her own, paige follows blinking weakly like a child with her bedding over her shoulder. she shoves azzi to the side, sinking down into the ancient cushions and bringing the blankets to her chin as she easily falls back asleep. azzi will go to say thank you, to tell her she’s sorry, but paige will only reach out a large hand and squeeze azzi’s sweaty one as if to tell her knock it off. it’s what i’m here for. and it's vice versa. 

𓇼 things seem to calm down. maybe it really was just a freak occurrence. camp comes to a close and the girls move on to another one, this time a larger one interspersed with girls from other college basketball teams. no one talks about the volleyball girls. it’s the one silent rule: don’t ruin a good time with the ghost of the girls you once knew, please! and lock the doors behind you when you leave the gym late!

𓇼 but azzi doesn’t forget, and it turns out she’s right not to—because it happens again. 

𓇼 the morning it happens, the air tastes wrong as if the trees have stopped producing oxygen entirely. the counselors try to shield them from it, but there's no hiding this—another girl, another athlete, this time from duke, found behind the equipment shed. the world slows down, gets sticky and hot, and impossible. azzi is struggling to breathe, a hand over her mouth as she tries not to throw up. her other hand is occupied by ice’s tight hold.

𓇼 there are whispers of coincidence, of copycat killers, of something worse. the camp directors hold an emergency meeting. no one is to leave their cabins after dark. no one is to be alone, not even for a minute.

the shower runs too hot against azzi's skin, but she doesn't adjust it. her muscles ache from today's drills, the coaches pushing them harder than usual, as if physical exhaustion might distract them from the horror unfolding around them. steam fills the small bathroom, fogging the mirror until she can barely see her own reflection.

she hears the bathroom door creak open.

"just me, princess," comes paige's voice, casual and easy. "kk and ice went to dinner early."

azzi relaxes her shoulders, not realizing she'd tensed them in the first place. "be out in five," she calls, rinsing conditioner from her curls.

when she steps out wrapped in a towel, paige is perched on the closed toilet lid, scrolling through her phone. her hair is pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose around her face. she doesn't look up.

"they found her shoes in the lake," paige says, voice flat. "emma's. the duke girl."

azzi's stomach drops. "jesus."

"yeah." paige tucks her phone away, finally looking up. there's something unreadable in her expression. "you know what's weird? i had a conversation with her yesterday. about three-point shooting form."

azzi turns away, pulling a clean t-shirt over her head. when she looks back, paige is staring at her hands.

"you okay?" azzi asks.

paige nods, but doesn't speak. azzi runs a hand down her back as she passes her, at a loss for words.

later, as they walk to dinner, azzi can't shake the feeling that something is off. they pass the equipment shed, now cordoned off with yellow police tape that flutters in the evening breeze. she looks away, sickened by the sight of blood in broad daylight.

morgan jogs up behind them, slinging her arms around both their shoulders. "hey," she says, voice strained and far too bright. "you guys hear they're thinking about ending camp early?"

"no way," paige says immediately. "they can't."

there's an edge to her voice that makes azzi glance over. paige's jaw is tight, a muscle jumping in her cheek.

"i mean, someone's literally killing people, paige," morgan says with a nervous laugh. "seems like a good reason to shut things down."

"that’s not—" paige starts, then stops herself. "whatever."

she pulls away from morgan's arm, walking ahead faster. morgan gives azzi a puzzled look.

"she's just scared," azzi says automatically, defending paige like she always does. but the words feel hollow in her mouth. “she’s probably worried this will follow us home, you know?” 

they're almost to the mess hall when azzi realizes she left her inhaler back at the cabin. the thought of going back alone makes her throat tighten.

"i forgot something," she tells morgan. "can you—"

"i'll go with you, ma," paige says, appearing suddenly beside them. her eyes look different in the fading light—sharper, focused, a darker blue than azzi has ever seen them. "save us seats?"

morgan nods and continues on without them. as they turn back toward the cabin, azzi feels paige's hand slip into hers, their fingers linking with ease. paige squeezes it once.

"you good?" paige asks, the same question azzi had asked her earlier.

"yeah," azzi says, but her heart hammers in her chest. "just freaked out about all this."

paige's thumb rubs circles against azzi's palm. "don't worry," she says, voice soft. "i've got you. nothing's gonna happen to you. swear"

with a nod, azzi breathes out and flashes paige a soft smile. as they walk, she stumbles over a stick and looks down her eyes catching on paige’s feet. her eyes narrow slightly, focusing on the dark stain on the cuff of the left sneaker—something that looks disturbingly like blood.

“az?”

azzi looks up, and suddenly she can't quite remember if it was there before.

𓇼 as expected, camp is shut down. the girls are silent on the bus ride back to their university, terrified in their own way. it’s mid-july so the school lets them move in early, assuaging their parents’s questions surrounding safety with vague answers that do nothing to assure them. 

𓇼 the school is eerily empty on their side of campus; the off-campus athletic apartments even eerier. they stick to their buddy system. jana & sarah. morgan & aubrey. ice & kk. they’re sectioned off. every girl has their other half.  without question, they pair paige and azzi. 

𓇼 it should be relieving, but it only brings more observations to the surface. paige is evasive, leaving their apartment at odd hours and coming back even later. she tells azzi not to worry, that she’s just putting the work in to start the season right. she flashes that hollywood smile, her teeth bleach white, and blows her off with a quip: “maybe if you answered my texts before the week passes, ma…”

𓇼 and azzi, to her detriment, always laughs—so easily pulled into paige’s warmth, into the intoxicating orbit of being paige buecker’s favorite.

𓇼 they settle back into routine. the fear fades. well all fear except the massive amount belonging to one azzi fudd. azzi feels gaslit by everyone’s desperation to get back to normal. do they not see the pattern? the killers allow them to relax and then slice someone else up. 

𓇼 “you have got to chill,” sarah says one night, the girls getting ready for a night out. it’s somewhere different than their usual haunt. “i need to see the world outside of ted’s or i might just die,” jana had grumbled, grinning when yanna let out a laugh. azzi’s gut had clenched at the mention of death. 

𓇼 azzi presses her lips together, tries to focus on the strawberry sweetness of her lip gloss and the vanilla vodka taste of her breath. still, they slip out, saccharine and sarcastic. “sorry, it’s a little hard to chill when there are killers roaming and they haven’t been caught yet. but sure, i’ll try my hardest to be cool for you.”

𓇼 jana’s eyebrow raises and its at that second when azzi looks up to see paige leaning against the wall, her own blonde brow raised in agreement. azzi closes her eyes and huffs, scrambling up to storm into the kitchen and get another drink. 

𓇼 sometimes the girls forget just how mean and snappish she can be, especially when she feels overlooked. but paige knows, which is why she follows her. “az—” she starts, and azzi is already filled with irritation because paige had disappeared around two am last night and this time she was the one not answering her messages. when she came back she’d offered no explanation, rolling her eyes when azzi asked after her. so azzi ignores her.

𓇼 “az, i know you can hear me.” at this point, all bets are off. she’s either murdering to her heart’s desire or sleeping with someone azzi knows nothing about. she doesn’t know which one makes her more ill. she ignores her best friend with fervor, reaching up to grab the 818 tequila placed dangerously at the edge of the highest cabinet shelf.

𓇼 her dress is deliciously mini, sequined, and a buttery yellow that paints a stunning contrast to azzi’s bronze skin. as she reaches higher, one leg leveraged on the counter to better push herself up, she hears paige let out a curt breath. she’s either getting annoyed or she’s seen the edge of azzi’s cream-colored, lace panties. 

𓇼 (it’s both.)

𓇼 they leave the house like that.

azzi’s pressed into the corner of the backseat, her cheek against the window, feeling the slow drag of streetlights flicker over her skin. the night is thick, humid, sticking to her bare arms, her exposed throat. up front, someone—maybe nika, maybe ashlyn—is laughing too loud at something on the aux, the bassline thumping low in azzi’s chest.

paige is next to her, legs sprawled, taking up space like she owns it. she’s been quiet most of the ride, one arm draped over the back of the seat, the other resting on her thigh, fingers drumming against ripped denim. azzi’s felt her watching, though—casual, weighty, something unreadable sitting low in paige’s gaze.

azzi shifts, her own patience thinning. “can you stop staring, please? thank you.”

paige doesn’t even blink. “then stop being so twitchy.”

azzi rolls her eyes, exhales sharply through her nose. “you’re so fucking annoying.”

paige’s fingers twitch, then move—quick, sure, catching azzi’s chin between them. not hard, but firm, the kind of touch that says pay attention.

the car isn’t moving fast, but everything inside it tilts.

paige leans in, close enough that azzi can smell her—the faded trace of her cologne, something clean, warm, uniquely her. their friends are right there, blessedly oblivious, but it suddenly doesn’t matter. the space between them is tight, electric, stretched thin like the air before a summer storm.

"azzi," paige murmurs, low, almost thoughtful. her grip tightens, just a little. "don’t piss me off right now."

azzi stills. it’s nothing, just paige being paige—too confident, too rough, all bark with a bite she only ever shows on the court. but something in the way she’s looking at her now—head tilted, eyes dark, mouth set like she’s waiting for something—makes azzi’s stomach flip, cold and hot all at once.

for a second, just a second, she’s scared.

and paige sees it.

the shift happens so fast it barely feels real. paige lets go, leans back, scoffs like azzi’s being ridiculous. the corner of her mouth lifts, teasing, but her eyes are still watching, still waiting.

"damn, princess," she says, voice easy, lazy, as she settles back into her seat. "you dramatic."

azzi forces a breath past her lips, unclenches her jaw. she looks away, out the window, at the blur of streetlights sliding past.

she doesn’t say anything.

but she knows paige felt it.

and worse—paige knows she did, too.

𓇼 they make up within the week. it’s not really the plan, but things change when another girl is found dead and gone. this time it’s a neighboring university’s tennis prodigy, her dark hair gleaming wetly across the pavement as she presses a hand to the neat crescent across her neck.

𓇼 she wants to go home. she wants paige. azzi ignores the guilty looks the other girls send her as she’s proven right. instead, her mind is whirling. there’s no connection between the victims, at least none that she can see. the killer (killers?) are doing this for fun, for sport. for sport. wait. 

𓇼 the campus becomes a ghost town as news spreads. three more volleyball players from neighboring schools are found dead within days of one another. the pattern is undeniable now—athletes being targeted, sliced up with precision. azzi's phone chimes constantly with texts from her parents begging her to come home. she doesn't tell them that she's secretly packed a bag, ready to run at a moment's notice.

𓇼 security increases on campus. guards patrol the athletic buildings, checking IDs at every entrance. the team is assigned a personal security detail that follows them to and from practice. it should make them feel safer, but the constant scrutiny just reminds them of the danger. morgan complains about it the loudest, says it's making her play worse. paige stays suspiciously quiet during these conversations.

𓇼 azzi starts noticing things. small things at first—paige's late night disappearances becoming more frequent, the way morgan tenses whenever the murders are mentioned on the news, how the two of them exchange glances when they think no one's watching. one night, azzi wakes to find paige's bed empty, and when she checks her phone, there's a text from morgan: roof in 10. it wasn't meant for her.

𓇼 a memorial is held. everyone wears black, everyone cries. morgan the hardest, paige the least. her face is almost carefully blank. when jana breaks down during her speech, azzi watches paige's expression—there's no sadness there, only impatience. that night, azzi googles "sociopath traits" and then immediately deletes her browser history.

𓇼 geno cancels practice after another body is found—this time it's someone from their own school, a soccer player azzi shared an english class with last year. the girls gather in kk and ice's apartment, seeking safety in numbers. "we need to stick together," paige says, her hand finding azzi's under the table, squeezing once. azzi notices how paige's eyes never leave her face, watching her reactions with an intensity that makes her skin prickle.

𓇼 azzi can't shake the feeling she's being watched. not just by paige, but by someone else—someone in the shadows. she starts looking over her shoulder in the hallways, jumping at every sound. "you're being paranoid, princess" paige tells her, but her eyes are watchful, protective. that night, azzi finds a note slipped under their apartment door: hope you had a great day, a! it might just be your last.

𓇼 she shows it to paige, who crumples it in her fist, jaw set in a way azzi has never seen before. "no one's going to touch you," paige promises, voice low and dangerous. "not while i'm here."

𓇼 they decide to go out again one night, all of them, a desperate attempt at normalcy. the bar is crowded, loud, and for a moment, azzi can almost forget. until she sees nika and paige in the corner, heads bent close together, nika's hand on paige's arm like she's stopping her from something. azzi watches them argue, watches paige's face harden before she stalks off to the bathroom.

𓇼 when azzi follows, she finds paige gripping the sink, knuckles white. "i can't keep doing this," paige says, not looking up. she stops when she sees azzi in the mirror. "can't keep doing what?" azzi asks. paige's smile is strained. "can't watch you keep torturing yourself," she says. "you're safe with me, ma. you know that, right?"

𓇼 azzi doesn’t answer her, because paige is so obviously lying to her. so, she only extends her hand. “c’mon. let’s go back.”

the bar is loud, too loud, the low hum of conversation mixing with the clinking of glasses and the occasional laugh. paige is over-compensating, those oceanic eyes flickering over the crowd with that signature cocky smirk, and azzi can’t help but notice the way her attention seems to settle on the girl at the bar, the one who’s been giving paige lingering glances all night.

azzi's irritation bubbles up in a slow burn. it’s not jealousy, of course. no, she’s just—well, it's not like that. she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hide the way her jaw clenches. she’s tired of watching paige flirt with random girls like it doesn’t mean anything. it doesn’t mean anything, she knows that. oh my god, there’s a killer on the loose. this is not the time. 

but something about the way paige does it, so casually, so effortlessly… it’s like she’s throwing it in azzi’s face, just because she can.

"hey, you’re gonna let that one get away?” the girl at the bar smiles at paige, leaning forward just a little too much. azzi rolls her eyes at the way it pushes her cleavage up. what a slut. 

she feels terrible as soon as she thinks it.

paige laughs, clearly enjoying the attention. "maybe, maybe not. who’s to say?"

azzi feels a knot tighten in her stomach, the familiar burn of irritation seeping deeper, until she can’t take it anymore. she storms out of the bar, muttering something under her breath about goddamn bullshit.

𓇼

the cool night air hits her as she steps outside, the weight of the world following her like the world’s most suffocating blanket. she walks fast, not caring if the killer is nearby. let them come. she’s tired. she’s tired of pretending like she doesn’t care, tired of watching paige flirt—no. she’s just tired of this. of living her life in fear, of housing a deep paranoia inside of her, and being unable to trust the people she previously loved without question. 

behind her, paige’s voice breaks through the quiet night. “azzi.”

azzi doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t even turn around. “i’m surprised you even noticed i left. what, got bored of flirting with your latest victim?” the choice of words is intentional, and azzi takes great satisfaction in the silence that follows.

paige’s footsteps speed up, and she’s beside her now, matching her pace. “what the hell is your problem?”

azzi rolls her eyes. “i told you, nothing. it’s whatever.”

“don’t give me that,” paige snaps, stepping in front of azzi, her arms crossed. “you can’t just walk off like that, azzi. you gonna walk around alone at night with a maniac on the loose?”

azzi bites her lip, prays for patience. “oh my god, paige. what-the-fuck-ever. go back to her. she’s waiting.”

and there it is—the envy slips out, biting and sharp. azzi curses herself immediately, but paige catches the hint, that flicker of something in her voice. she raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“oh. oh, that’s not fair.” paige leans in a little closer, her gaze dropping to azzi’s pursed lips, making azzi wish she could not feel the way her chest tightens. “you want me to go back, huh? c’mon. use your words, mama.”

azzi seethes, but she won’t admit it. “it’s not like that, paige.”

“sure, it’s not.” paige grins, leaning back casually against the nearby streetlamp, clearly not ready to let it go. “so you’re mad because…i’m just having a little fun. that it?”

azzi turns away from her, irritation boiling over. “you know what? i don’t need this,” she huffs. “i’m going home.”

paige lets out a soft laugh, but there’s something different about it. she’s amused, but there’s an edge to it now, like she’s not ready to back off.

“azzi, stop this shit. you’re not walking home alone, alright?” paige grabs her by the arm, pulling her back gently when azzi tries to shake her off.

“actually, i think i am. i don’t need you, paige.”

“mm, yeah, you do.”

paige steps in front of her, blocking her way again. azzi’s about to argue when she realizes—paige’s not going anywhere.

“get in the car, az.”

“no.” azzi stands her ground, but she’s not fooling anyone, least of all paige.

“fine,” paige shrugs, and before azzi can react, she pulls her over her shoulder with one swift motion. azzi squeals, kicking her legs, the sound of her protests echoing in the night.

“hello! put me down, paige! i’m wearing a mini skirt!”

paige doesn’t even flinch, holding azzi firmly with one arm. “ain’t nobody looking.”

azzi’s face flushes a soft, dusky red as paige strides to the car, not letting azzi squirm free. “stop it! paige madison, you better put me down right now.” she slaps paige’s back, half laughing, half annoyed.

paige doesn’t answer, just opens the car door and tosses her inside as if she weighs nothing, sliding into the driver’s seat in a matter of minutes. “there. isn’t that better?”

azzi’s breathing hard, a mix of frustration and something else. paige catches her eye, and for a moment, the world feels oddly still between them.

“whatever,” azzi mutters, but it’s a little softer this time, the tension in her voice barely there. 

paige’s smirk never falters. “you’re welcome, princess. feel free to use the drive home as a chance to fix that attitude.”

azzi grumbles, sinking back in her seat, but she doesn’t argue anymore. she just watches paige drive, the weight of everything pressing feeling a little lighter now that they’re together.

𓇼 the campus goes on lockdown when another victim is found alive but badly injured. she describes her attacker as tall, athletic, wearing a mask. "there were two of them," she says. "one did the cutting. the other held me down." azzi is in the library when the alert comes through. she tries to call paige but gets no answer. when she finally reaches her, paige sounds panicked. "where are you?" azzi asks. "on my way to you," paige says. "don't move. please, az, don't fucking move."

𓇼 but this is a slasher, so of course, azzi moves. she wants to get to her best friend who sounded terrified out of her mind. but when azzi steps out of the library, someone grabs her from behind. she feels the cold press of a blade against her side, hears a voice—distorted, but somehow familiar—whisper in her ear. 

𓇼 azzi’s chest heaves in shallow, terrified gasps, her fingers slipping against the cool steel of the knife handle as she grapples with her assailant. the force of the attack knocks her into the corner of the hallway, and she barely catches herself before she’s on the floor, hands shaking, blood trailing from a shallow cut on her arm.

𓇼 the world is spinning, the air thick with the acrid scent of fear and sweat. azzi is crying—really crying, the kind of sobs that break you down from the inside. it’s not supposed to be like this. she’s not supposed to be here, in this hell, with a blade pressed dangerously into her ribs.

𓇼 “please—please stop,” azzi wheezes, her voice breaking in ways it’s never broken before, raw and desperate. tears spill down her cheeks, streaking through her makeup, and she’s shaking—shaking so hard she can’t breathe, her lungs fighting the air like they’re full of water.

𓇼 “azzi!” paige’s voice cuts through the haze of panic, thick with rage. it’s a sound Azzi hasn’t heard in a while—feral, protective. it’s all the warning azzi gets before paige is there, hauling the killer off her. she’s never been more grateful for location sharing. 

𓇼 “get the fuck off of her!” paige screams, her grip vicious as she tosses the killer aside, sending the ghostly figure sprawling into the wall. her anger is palpable, her voice high with fear, her stress pushing her past the normal calm. azzi’s reminded that they’re both just young women, college students trying to stay alive in a way they didn’t have to before, and she feels so ashamed that she ever suspected her. 

𓇼 azzi, gasping for air, curls into herself, her hands trembling as she presses them to her stomach. she can’t stop the sobs. Every breath feels too hard, too sharp. the pain from the cut doesn’t matter. it’s the terror that makes her break.

𓇼 paige drops to her knees in front of her, her hands shaking, trying to find zzzi’s face. her phone clatters out of her pocket.  “az, baby, please. please, look at me. it’s okay, you’re okay.” the older girl is borderline hyperventilating, casting panicked glances over her shoulder at the limp body of their unknown attacker. “i need you to move your hands, okay? just move them. i need to see how bad it is.”

𓇼 azzi’s eyes are wide, glazed with fear, but it’s the tremble in her voice that cuts paige deeper. “it hurts, p… it hurts so bad. i don’t want to die…”

𓇼 the words slice rip paige like a bullet, her heart almost collapsing at the sound of them. she doesn’t care if she’s bleeding too. she doesn’t care about the rest of it. she just needs Azzi to be okay. “i told you, ma… i told you, you’re not gonna die, alright? you ain’t going nowhere, you hear me? i got you. i got you.”

𓇼 the killer groans, rising with a hand to their masked head. “fuck!” paige whispers. “az, baby, we gotta move. ‘m gonna carry you.” azzi groans in pain as paige practically hauls her in her arms. “i know. i know, princess. fuck, ‘m sorry.” 

paige is pulling azzi into the bathroom, her grip firm but not hurting. she's trying to keep herself grounded, trying to focus on the fact that at least in this moment, azzi’s with her. paige’s chest is caving in with the force of her fear—she can taste bile in her throat—but she’s trying to stay quiet.

“shh, shh, baby…” paige’s voice is low, like she’s trying to coax azzi to stay calm, and her hands are already moving over azzi’s skin, lifting her shirt to see the damage, all business, checking for injuries, feeling for anything that could give her a glimpse of what’s happening underneath. 

and then her fingers brush over azzi’s ribs, her stomach, and there's a faint tremble in azzi’s breath, and there’s this sudden tension between them, a pressure rising along azzi's spine. 

azzi’s heart is racing, her breath ragged, but it’s not just from the pain. the nearness, the intimacy of it, the feeling of paige’s hands on her skin—it’s like fucking fire. the tenderness of paige’s touch, the way she moves so carefully over her body, it should be comforting but it’s only electric. azzi can't stop the warmth rising in her chest, can't ignore the strange pull of need that refuses to fade, even here, even now, in the middle of this absolute nightmare.

“please don’t say it. don’t you fucking dare, paige,” azzi chokes out, her voice shaking, half laughing, half sobbing, as she wipes her eyes. it’s too much. too much emotion, too much fear, and too much everything.

“you’re good, ma,” paige mutters, her thumb brushing over azzi’s stomach, gentle despite everything. “i’ve seen you like this before, don’t act like it’s new.” there’s a certain gruffness to paige’s words, like she’s pretending she doesn’t know the effect of the situation.

azzi huffs a little, trying to hide how embarrassed she is, how exposed she feels under paige’s touch. “i’m not wearing a bra,” azzi whispers through her tears, an attempt to divert attention from what was happening. it’s absurd, even in the face of this horror, how awkward she feels.

paige’s grin is soft, the kind of smile that azzi wished was occurring in a situation better than this. “ma, i’ve seen it all,” she teases, that teenage boy bravado in her tone. “we’re best friends. besides, you look good, like always. that ain’t new either.”

azzi laughs, but it’s broken, her body trembling with the sudden onslaught of pain. the adrenaline is wearing off. the blood, the fear,—it’s all so real, but somehow paige’s words make it feel like a momentary sick joke at a really intense tailgate. she can’t help it. she hits paige’s shoulder, weakly, but paige just takes it, laughing a little.

“not the time, az,” paige says, trying to keep things light, but azzi can feel how her voice shakes, how she’s keeping it low to not attract attention. and then, just like that, the sound of a booted footstep outside the door cuts through the tension. paige freezes, her eyes darting toward the crack under the door.

azzi, still struggling to breathe normally, goes stiff. her hands instinctively press against her stomach, trying to hold in the pain, trying to keep herself from falling apart.

“shit.” paige’s voice is even quieter now, the heat between them suddenly shifting, turning to a survival instinct. “we gotta go. now.”

paige doesn’t give her a second to argue, her hand on azzi’s back, guiding her away from the bathroom door, moving like they’ve practiced this a thousand times before—silent, swift, desperate.

𓇼 they spend hours in the police station, paige getting more and aggravated as the officers keep pushing for answers they don’t have. “what do you mean did they leave clues? bro, isn’t this your job?” azzi focuses on not having a panic attack. its only when the officer that seems to irritate paige the most dares to insinuate that maybe azzi should’ve been more careful that she realizes paige may recreate the crime scene. 

𓇼 “come on, p. i want to go home.” paige shoots the man another glare and wraps a hand around azzi’s waist, using her phone to call them an uber. 

𓇼 if azzi thought paige was clingy before, she was absolutely oppressive now.

azzi steps into the bathroom, about to close the door when paige’s voice calls out, “azzi, come on now, let’s use our brains. you know i’m not letting you even shower alone after all this.”

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to shut the door but paige’s arm is already wedged in, blocking it. she sighs, giving in. “paige! you can’t just follow me everywhere.”

paige raises an eyebrow, her tone completely unbothered. “girl, this is a classic horror scenario. haven’t you seen psycho?” she leans against the counter, casually pulling her phone from her pocket.

azzi stares at her in disbelief. “are you seriously standing there while i’m trying to take a shower? get out! go sit outside like a normal person!”

paige grins, looking incredibly comfortable in the moment. she’s changed and swept her hair into her signature slick-back bun, her bright blonde strands falling in just the right way, a thin silver chain resting around her neck. her sweatpants hang low and loose, and the black tee paired with it does wonders to show off her biceps as she crosses her arms. 

azzi shifts on her feet, feeling a strange pulse in her chest. she’s not sure if it’s from frustration or something else entirely. her gaze flickers down to where a tan strip of skin is revealing itself just above the rim of those damned sweats, and she unconsciously squeezes her legs together. paige notices, her smirk growing wider.

“be lucky i ain't coming in there with you,” she teases, her tone cocky as she scrolls on her phone, clearly unfazed by azzi’s protests.

azzi huffs. “spare me.” paige looks up and raises a brow. “you wouldn't.”

paige shrugs, scrolling casually. “we’ll see. i’ll be right here if you need me.”

azzi folds her arms, feeling a little cornered by both the situation and the fact that paige looks really good right now. it’s enough to make her blush, and she tries to pretend like she’s not noticing. “paige, seriously. get out.”

paige smirks, her eyes not leaving her screen as she leans a little closer to the bathroom door. “that’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

azzi rolls her eyes again, clearly fed up but also a little flustered. she glances at paige, then starts to undo her socks, taking one off slowly like she's in no hurry to just give in to the absurdity of it all. the moment she takes the sock off, paige whistles loudly.

“god damn, look at you.” she crosses her arms again, shaking her head, completely over the top with her reaction.

azzi freezes, her face turning the color of a maraschino cherry. “read my lips, paige. get out or i swear to god!”

paige raises her hands in mock surrender, laughing at her best friend's embarrassment. “alright, alright, i’m leaving! no need to bring our savior into it. you know you love me.” she steps back, still laughing to herself.

azzi rolls her eyes, trying to pretend she's not still flustered, and waits until paige is out of the bathroom before she breathes a deep sigh of relief.

𓇼

when azzi finally steps out of the muggy bathroom, her satin robe clings to her body in a way she really wasn’t prepared for. it’s short, the fabric cool and slick against her skin in a lovely shade of emerald green, and it leaves very little to the imagination—especially with how it sticks to her curves, still damp from the shower.

paige looks her up and down as she passes by, eyes narrowing in an exaggerated once-over, her lips curling into a smirk. “my god, az, you really trying to make me feel some type of way right now, huh?”

azzi huffs and quickly pulls the robe tighter around her, trying to ignore the avid embarrassment creeping up her spine at the way paige is looking at her. “oh my god, can you not?”

paige raises a brow, stepping closer, still completely unbothered. “what? you look phenomenal, mama. stop trying to act like you don’t know.” she steps in front of azzi now, blocking her way, a wicked grin tugging at her lips. “you could at least act a little embarrassed. i’m not the one who came out here in the world’s shortest robe, babe. that’s your problem.”

azzi tries to shift away, but paige reaches out and places a hand on her stomach, pressing gently—so gently, though azzi still sucks in a breath. the wound. the pain of it.

azzi’s breath hitches at the sensation, and she freezes. “p,” she starts, her voice wavering just a little, “seriously, it’s fine. i’m okay. we’re fine..” but she knows they’re not, not completely. not when the pressure of her best friend’s hand on her body sends an inebriate mix of heat and anxiety coursing through her.

paige doesn’t move, her thumb running in soft circles over the satin. the moment hangs there, both of them silent and unsure. she looks azzi in the eyes, her cocky mask slipping, replaced with something more raw, more vulnerable than azzi’s seen in a long time.

“that was way too close, az,” paige mutters, her voice low and almost trembling despite herself. “i’m not trying to be disrespectful or anything, but i wasn’t—i didn’t think it was real, y’know? like, it was always happening to other people, but then it was you—and that shit scared me.”

azzi looks up at her, the words hitting harder than she expected. it isn’t what paige usually says. it’s not the same sure, settled paige who never gets rattled. this is different. and it makes azzi’s stomach twist in a way she’s not sure she wants to think about right now.

“hey,” azzi starts again, her voice a little more sure this time. “i’m okay this time. really.” but the words feel thin. 

paige doesn’t pull back. she presses just a little harder against azzi’s stomach, right where the wound is, and for a split second, azzi feels like she can’t breathe. but it’s not pain—it’s something else. something that makes her flush. paige stares down at her for a long moment before taking a step back, but not without catching azzi’s gaze. her voice is back to being light, the flip switched but the edge of uncertainty still lingering there. 

“next time,” paige says, crossing her arms and giving azzi an appraising look, “i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe. you ain’t going anywhere without me. not even to pee. got it?”

azzi laughs weakly, but it’s forced. she’s shaking her head, though the tightness in her chest doesn’t loosen. “yeah, whatever, paige. you really think you can keep me all locked up?”

“trust, i will find a way. better start growing those curls out and change your name to rapunzel,” paige says with her trademark megawatt smile. 

azzi just sighs, rolling her eyes. “you’re so—.”

before she can say more, paige adds, more softly, “i’m serious, az. i’m not letting anything happen to you. i look after what’s mine.”

azzi’s heart thumps hard in her chest at the words, and she looks away quickly, brushing a wet spiral of hair behind her ear to hide the heat rising in her cheeks. before she can respond, paige’s phone buzzes loudly, breaking the tension between them. paige glances down at the screen, and her expression hardens. 

“i have to go,” she says. “i forgot i promised kk help on an assignment.”

azzi gives her a small, searching look before nodding. she watches her go, her stomach beginning to crawl with that uneasy feeling that only arises when she senses a lie.

𓇼 azzi wakes to the sound of the front door closing. it's three in the morning, and paige is slipping back into their apartment, her steps careful, measured. azzi pretends to be asleep, watching through slitted eyes as paige peels off her jacket, revealing a white t-shirt stained with something dark. 

𓇼 paige's hands are slightly trembling as she stuffs the shirt into the bottom of the laundry hamper. when she turns, her face is hollow, haunted. she looks at azzi's sleeping form with an expression that's almost tender, almost desperate. azzi squeezes her eyes closed, a single tear rolling down her face like a saltwater diamond.

𓇼 but like all things do, it comes to a head. paige is right back at it—the lies, the exceptionally late nights, the brushing off of azzi’s concerns. “so, you can be worried about me, but i have to play it cool?” she yells at paige’s retreating back. paige turns to face her before she slips back into her bedroom. “you got it, ma.”

𓇼 it's stupid and slick and she’s so obviously being cute and—why the fuck is it turning azzi on?

𓇼 regardless she’s had enough. so, azzi takes things into her own hands. 

the sound of the front door unlocking makes azzi tense, fingers curling around the blanket draped over her lap. the tv hums softly, casting pale light over her bare arms, her collarbones, the rise and fall of her chest. 2:47 am.

paige steps inside like she owns the place. she’s all black and strategic shadow, hoodie zipped up, joggers hanging low, her hair twisted into that stupid bun that looks effortless but isn’t. there’s something different about her tonight, something undeniably thick in the air between them.

azzi swallows. something is off. something's been off. she tries to find her strength from before.

paige kicks off her crocs, stretches her arms overhead, and looks at azzi with that familiar, lazy smirk. "damn, you almost scared me. you waiting up for me, princess?"

azzi doesn’t answer. just watches. the way paige moves—calm, controlled, unbothered. like she wasn’t just out in the dark doing god knows what.

paige tilts her head. "silent treatment? that’s crazy."

azzi’s stomach knots. she should just say it. just ask. her eyes flick up—linger at paige’s bun. she sees it now. the dried rust clinging to the strands, almost lost in the honey-blonde.

"there's blood in your hair."

paige stops in front of her, close enough that azzi can smell the warm spice of her cologne, something deeper beneath it. her grin flickers, like she wasn’t expecting that.

then she laughs, low and amused. "yeah?"

azzi nods, her throat dry. she’s suddenly so aware of her body. "yeah."

paige’s gaze dips. a quick flick—barely there—but azzi feels it, the weight of her eyes dragging down to the square neckline of her top, the way it presses tightly against her skin and pushes up her tits. it’s so quick she might’ve imagined it, but when paige looks back up, there’s something else in her face, something dark and hungry.

azzi’s heart skips.

paige leans in slightly, all sharp eyes and quiet hunger. "take it out and see." she grabs azzi’s wrist and presses it against her scalp, her fingers warm and firm over azzi’s skin.

azzi’s pupils blow wide. her heart slams into her ribs.

"see, az?" paige murmurs. "you’re just as bad as me."

azzi rips her hand away and backs up. paige follows, smooth, easy, and unhurried. azzi’s breath catches—there’s nowhere to go but down the hallway. she moves before she can think, turns—but paige’s voice follows her, teasing. 

"aw, don’t do that, princess. you know you can’t run from me."

azzi doesn’t listen. her socked feet slap against the hardwood as she bolts, and she almost slips, rounding the corner toward her bedroom. she doesn’t make it. paige is already there.

azzi’s breath shudders. she saw her in the living room. she just felt her presence behind her, but now she’s in front, her body loose and relaxed against the doorframe. 

azzi skids to a stop, heart hammering. paige just grins, cocking her head. "that was cute."

azzi’s stomach drops. she whirls around, runs back through the kitchen—paige is at the fridge, watching her like this is all some kind of game. azzi stumbles, chest heaving. she didn’t even hear paige move this time. didn’t realize how close she was until—

she trips.

a sharp gasp rips from her throat as she hits the floor. she scrambles to get up, but paige is already there, grabbing her ankle and dragging her back, slow and deliberate like she has all the time in the world.

azzi twists, pushing up onto her hands, her breath ragged, sweat clinging to the hollow of her throat. she might be screaming, but she can’t tell. her curls stick to her forehead, her lip combo still glossy, her skin warm and glowing in the dim light.

paige watches her struggle, mouth curving into something that shouldn’t be so blatantly fond. and then, low and appreciative: "jesus, ma. this top."

azzi gapes. “you can’t be serious right now.”

paige laughs—actually laughs, full and throaty, before ducking down and pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to azzi’s throat. azzi jerks, whimpers as a slow heat floods through her. 

"paige—"

"relax, baby," paige murmurs against her skin, lips grazing the pulse pounding at her neck. "you know i’d never hurt you."

azzi squeezes her eyes shut, chest heaving, fear and something unidentifiable tangling in her stomach. then paige pulls back, sighing like this is exhausting for her. she reaches into her hoodie, pulls out something small and sharp—a knife—and flicks it across the room. it clatters onto the hardwood.

azzi stares.

paige cups her face, tilting it up, her thumbs pressing gently into her cheeks. "look at me."

azzi does, breath uneven, her throat tight.

"i’m not gonna hurt you," paige says, softer this time, steady and sure. "you know that, don’t you?"

azzi’s lips tremble. and then the tears spill over. she makes a choked sound, shaking her head, her breathing turning sharp and uneven.

 "please," she whispers, voice cracking. "please, paige. you’re lying to me, i— i thought we were best friends. what did i do wrong? what—whatever it is, i’m so sorry.”

paige freezes. her face twists with an emotion so raw, that azzi is unsure if there’s a name for it. “azzi—”

azzi wrenches away from her grip and pulls back, hands tangling in her curls, her whole body wound tight. "there’s always two of you, right?" she gasps, voice rising in panic. "oh my god, i’m gonna die."

paige’s expression crumples. "don’t you dare say that shit."

azzi flinches, still hyperventilating, her shoulders rising and falling too fast, her vision swimming. paige exhales sharply and moves, pressing a steadying hand to azzi’s waist, keeping her from stumbling. 

"azzi, you can be pissed in a minute, mama. swear. but i need you to calm down first."

azzi blinks up at her, dazed, ribs aching.

paige tightens her grip, her voice dropping into something warmer, more familiar. "need you to breathe for me, baby. please."

and somehow azzi listens. her breath hitches in her throat as she slows it down, lungs expanding in time with paige’s steady exhalations, but it’s the space between them that feels suffocating now. paige’s grip doesn’t loosen. azzi thinks of her promise from before: i don’t care if i gotta lock you in a damn safe.

azzi’s fingers curl into the fabric of her shirt, her skin still slick with sweat, as her mind races to catch up with everything that’s happening. that flicker of fear still burns deep in her chest, but—god, she’s so close to paige. too close. her neck is still tingling from where paige kissed it, the skin still warm and alive from her touch.

but paige… paige is a killer. the killer.

she tries to pull away again—shaking her head, trying to break free from the grip she can’t seem to escape. "i—i can’t."

paige doesn’t let her go this time. instead, she leans down, their faces inches apart, her voice like honey and danger all at once. "you can, though.”

azzi swallows. "you’re not the paige i thought i knew."

a pause. paige’s eyes darken just the slightest bit, but there’s something else in them, something softer, a flicker of recognition, maybe even a hint of regret. but it’s gone before azzi can pin it down, replaced by something colder.

"ma," paige says, and her voice is sharp, but there’s something underneath it—something that cracks in a way speaks to her. "azzi, this ain't easy for me either. i didn’t—this isn't the person i wanna be in front of you."

azzi’s breath hitches. "then don’t be." she shakes her head again, frustration boiling over. "i don’t understand, paige. i don’t even know what’s real anymore."

paige’s hands tighten around her wrists, gentle but firm, and for a second, it feels like she’s holding herself together instead. "what’s real is my promises. i swear to god, az,  i’m not gonna hurt you."

azzi laughs, but it’s hollow, the sound falling against the floor. "how do you expect me to believe that?”

“you do believe that. that’s why you suspected me for so long and didn’t say shit.” azzi freezes. "you know why i keep you close? cause you make me wanna be better."

azzi scoffs, eyes wide. "what? it’s not my job to save you, p.”

paige leans in, her forehead brushing against azzi’s.  "but you do it every day. you’re the one thing in this world that still feels right. and i’m not about to let anything happen to you. not now. not ever."

azzi’s heart tugs with the weight of paige’s words. the sincerity in her voice wraps around her like a velvet rope, pulls her closer. but then—then—the cold reality crashes back in. azzi shakes her head, her eyes filling with that uncontrollable fear again. 

"i can’t be part of this, paige. i can’t be in this world with you. it’s too much. i don’t—i don’t know who you are anymore."

paige’s expression hardens, but she doesn’t let go of azzi’s face. "you do know me," she says, a soft, dangerous promise in her voice. "i’m still me. the same person who’s been by your side, who’d do anything for you. i swear, azzi, you’re all i care about."

azzi blinks, her vision blurry through the tears, her chest tight with the weight of it all. "then why—why do you hurt people?"

paige’s jaw clenches, the shadow of the killer flashing across her features again. but when she looks at azzi, it’s with something broken. "i’m trying to protect you. to keep you safe, az. you don’t get it. i’m doing this for you."

azzi shakes her head, backing away again, her hands trembling. "you’re still lying."

"no," paige breathes, reaching for her again, but azzi pulls back, pacing quickly, hands tangled in her hair again, trying to pull herself together. "please, just calm down. i need you to calm down, baby. we’ll figure it out."

azzi whips around, her hand swiping at her eyes. "i can’t figure this out, paige! i can’t! you’re not just a friend to me, you’re— i can’t lose you, but i can’t do this either!"

paige’s face softens, and this time, she steps back, giving azzi space, her shoulders sagging just slightly. "i’m not going anywhere. not unless you tell me to."

azzi pauses, her breath still coming in jagged bursts. "why wouldn’t i tell you to leave?"

"cause you love me," paige says simply, but it’s not a boast. it’s the truth, in a way azzi can’t ignore. "and i love you too, maybe even more. and that’s enough. it’ll always be enough, azzi. just trust me."

azzi’s breath catches. "you can’t make this go away, paige." and suddenly she’s just so angry.

her hands curl into fists, eyes brimming with the weight of everything she's been holding in. she looks away, but paige reaches out, gently grabbing her chin. the touch is light but unyielding, pulling azzi back into her orbit. “hey, what are you thinking? talk to me.”

azzi stares at her for a beat, then explodes, words spilling out faster than she can control them. "you don’t get it! you’re so obsessed with how i feel, with fixing everything with me, you can’t even see how badly you’re fucking up. you don’t see it, do you? you just want the thrill of being the one i choose! what even is this? are you just throwing your whole life away for five minutes of fucking fame, paige? you can be so fucking selfish when it comes to me, and you won’t even admit it."

paige stands there, quiet for a second, then slowly smirks. “yeah, okay. i am selfish about you. i don’t see anything wrong with it. you right, ma.” she steps forward again, closer to azzi, inching her way into her space until there’s nowhere for her to go. “but that doesn’t mean you get to make me feel like shit for it. ‘cause you like being special.”

azzi’s breath stutters in her chest, caught off guard by paige’s rather self-accountable response. she opens her mouth to retort but doesn’t get the chance before paige leans in, close enough that azzi can feel her breath, her warmth.

“i know., i know. i’m not taking you seriously. i’m not listening. yep, for sure, ma,” paige murmurs. “just—”and then she kisses her. it's slow, deliberate, the kind of kiss that’s not just about desire but about the release of it.

azzi kisses back almost immediately, closing her eyes and digging her hands into paige’s hair. she opens her mouth, and paige slips her tongue inside, dragging a hand down to squeeze azzi’s waist. azzi moans, whole body shivering as paige presses two fingers to her aching clit. the pressure is fucking divine, and something sickly sweet swells in her tummy.

paige is playing dirty, and azzi is finding it hard to claw her way out of the web her best friend continues to spin. 

she pulls back, blushing as a thin string of spit connects them for several seconds before snapping. 

“don’t think for one second that you’re off the hook,” azzi says, voice shaky and defiant. 

paige only grins, smug, and presses harder against her pussy, rubbing gently through the fabric. “mmhmm. you taste so good, you know that? like fucking sugar, just straight honey.”

azzi’s pulse is racing, her chest tight, and she’s this close to yelling at her again. “you’re not even listening to me,” she says, but it comes out as a half-sigh, half-moan.

paige doesn’t back off, though. instead, she leans in again, slow and steady, keeping the pace of her fingers up as if she’d always known that this was where they’d end up. she presses her lips to azzi’s again and again, and azzi, against all her better judgment, melts every time. the next time it’s paige who breaks their contact. 

"i don’t know how to make it go away yet,” paige says, her voice quieter now as she speaks to azzi’s earlier worries. "but i need you to trust me. please."

azzi hesitates, eyes still wet, her chest tight. her heart aches. but for a moment, just a moment, she lets herself believe in paige. just a little bit, just a little more.

"what are you protecting me from?" azzi whispers, voice barely audible. “is it someone else?”

paige doesn’t answer at first, just steps forward and pulls azzi into a desperate hug. that only confirms it. this other person, the second piece to this horrific puzzle, has it out for her. 

"you don’t have to worry about that, baby. i got you. always."

azzi wants to believe her without any reservations because she knows, on a level, that it’s true.

that’s the worst part.

𓇼 it turns out azzi can forgive a lot when it comes to paige. loving her is a part of her genetic code.

𓇼 it's what she was meant for, body and soul.

𓇼 fuck.

© hcneymooners.

[jinxificada]

begs for sub!jinx

I need her at her desk as we fuck her with her own gun. sloppy and shit.

this was asked in december. IN MY DEFENSE!! when i was finishing writing it someone else casually also posted gunplay jinx and it was so similar i got mad for being so slow. and i thought i deleted it but no 😒 here it is.

notes: nsfw, 2,7k wc. based off an ACTUAL sexy time jinx and i had. gunplay, lesbians in love. thanks ari for proofreading (blame it on her if anything doesn't make sense). ENJOY💋

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

“you’re so damn needy,” jinx scoffed at you, busying herself with her work. her gaze fixated on the trinkets in her hands, her chair pushed to the side. it was one of those times she was so invested in it that she couldn’t just sit down.

and you were a few meters away, barely blinking as you stare at your workaholic girlfriend.

"damn, well, excuse me for trying to have a conversation with you," you retorted, crossing your arms over your chest as you slumped on the couch.

"you can do that without constantly being up my ass," she shot back, not even bothering to look up from her work.

you huffed, staying quiet for a moment. she was so hot when she was concentrated, eyes wide open, the tip of tongue peeking out from her lips. how long could she keep focusing if you tried to get your way with her..?

you smile to yourself, quietly walking up behind her to surprise her by groping her bum. “hey, watch it—“

“you love me being up your ass.” you hum into her ear.

she snapped, quickly turning her head to glare at you, hoping you wouldn’t notice the faint blush dusting her cheeks at your closeness, "i’m trying to work here, you know."

despite her words, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, betraying her own amusement at your antics.

you giggle, pecking her lips shortly before moving to her neck.

“keep working, then, just let me…” your voice trailed off as you maneuvered her belts to sneak your hand underneath her trousers.

jinx let out a small gasp, her body instinctively tensing up at the feeling of your fingers on her skin. however, she couldn’t deny that the attention was also kind of nice.

"you’re a damn menace, you know that?" she grumbled, her voice still coming out a bit shaky.

"you love it, though," you teased, leaving a few gentle nips to her neck as your hand continued to wander underneath her trousers.

jinx grumbled some more, trying to stay focused on her work as you continued to distract her. though with the way she squirmed under your touch, it was clear it was becoming increasingly difficult.

you pull down her pants and underwear altogether, simultaneously teasing with your tongue the sensitive skin on the edge of her jaw and her earlobe. once no clothes were in the way, you can finally feel how wet she actually is. jinx lets out a small, shaky breath as her body shivers under your touch.

"damn it, you're making it impossible to focus," she grumbles, though her words lack any real irritation.

"that’s the point," you murmur, your fingers slowly moving to tease her entrance. "you work too much, you need to loosen up a bit.”

she lets out a small moan, her body arching involuntarily into yours.

"i-i... i'm never gonna get anything done with you around," she manages to gasp out, her grip on her gadgets tightening.

you chuckle, slowly tracing circles around her entrance with your fingertips. "mhmm," your lips trail down to pepper kisses along her neck. "consider it mandatory self-care."

jinx lets out a snort of laughter. "you're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

she leans back against you, her head falling back onto your shoulder and giving you more access to her neck.

“i love you so much,” you purred before diving into her smooth skin, painting it with hickeys and love bites. just the weight of her body in your arms made you dizzy with affection.

jinx's breath hitches as your lips and teeth make their mark on her skin, leaving behind a trail of possessive marks.

"love you too," she managed to say, her voice coming out as shaky and breathless as her body shivers with anticipation. "but you're still distracting me from my work," she adds, though her words lack any real conviction. her body betrays her as her hips roll involuntarily against your hand.

you eye down at her gun on the work table, smirking at the flashing idea.

“lemme fuck you real quick, baby,” you insisted, pushing two fingers inside her without warning. not that she needed any, already taking you so well. “come for me just once and i’ll let you go back to work.”

jinx lets out a sharp gasp as your fingers slide inside her, "f-fuck," she moans, her words coming out in between shaky breaths. "that's not... that's not fair.”

she's still trying to hold on to some sense of control, but it's clear that her resolve is slipping.

"one time... that's all you get," she grumbles, her voice still coming out shaky and breathless.

you slip your fingers out, quickly licking them clean as you push her upper body onto the table, making her gasp, the cold surface sending a shiver through her body. she turns her head to glare at you over her shoulder, but it lacks any real heat.

“i remember you wondering how your gun would feel inside you,” you hummed softly, working on her pants to pull them down, your hands soon caressing the curve of her perfect butt.

a small blush dusted jinx's cheeks as you bring up the words she'd said so carelessly in the past.

"i...i didn’t really mean that," she mumbled.

“oh, but you did.” you chuckle, biting your lower lip in anticipation. “you’re dripping wet, baby.”

she really was, her fluids covering her upper creamy thighs. you keep teasing her with your fingers in that position, making sure she’s ready.

"damn it," jinx cursed, her body trembling as she tried to keep her composure. but she couldn't deny the effect your words and your touch were having on her. her breath came out in short, shaky gasps and her hands clenched into fists. "just... just get on with it already," she gasped out, her voice filled with a mix of impatience and need.

you chuckle at her impatience, but you knew that you weren’t any better yourself. taking a step back, you take a moment to admire the sight of her waiting for you, her body on display.

"you’re so goddamn beautiful, you know that?" you murmur, your hands lingering over her body, relishing the feel of her skin under your fingertips.

jinx lets out a small, shaky breath as your hands trail over her body.

"you’re just saying that because you want something from me," she mutters, trying to sound annoyed but not quite managing to hide the huskiness of her voice.

"hey, it's not my fault you're so damn enticing," you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to the back of her neck as you position yourself behind her. "besides, i think it's working. you look pretty impatient yourself."

a small whine escapes jinx’s lips as you press a kiss to her neck, her body arching back against you.

"i-i’m just tired of your teasing," she grumbles, her voice coming out in a needy whimper.

"but you love it," you hum, nipping at her earlobe as you push her hair away from the back of her neck. "i don't think you're in any position to make demands right now."

jinx lets out a small huff of annoyance, though it quickly turns into a gasp as your lips make contact with her neck. her body shakes against you and she lets out a soft whimper.

"c-cut it out," she grumbles, her voice wavering as my hands continue to caress her body. "you’re driving me insane..."

"i know, baby," you murmur, your lips trailing down her neck and across her shoulder. "you’re so beautiful like this, all needy and desperate for me."

without her noticing, you’ve reached for the gun. jinx is so consumed with the sensations coursing through her body that she doesn't even notice your movements. she’s fully focused on the feeling of your lips on her skin and your hands caressing her body.

your fingers gently move the gun closer between your bodies, careful not to let jinx see what you’re doing. you can't help but grin to yourself as you position the gun in just the right place, ready for what's to come.

you pull back slightly, making sure that jinx can feel the absence of your touch. she lets out a needy whine of protest, her body arching back towards you, searching for contact.

you then press the gun against her lower back, she gasps, her body tensing up at the sudden cold touch of the gun against her skin. she twists her head around, her eyes widening in surprise.

"w-what...?" she starts, her voice coming out in a shaky whisper.

“are you scared?” you murmur softly, tracing a heart shape on her skin with it. you lower it to her ass, hitting her pale skin softly.

jinx lets out a strained gasp at the impact of the gun against her skin, a mixed expression of surprise and arousal flickering across her face.

"i’m not scared, damn it," she grumbles, though her voice comes out a bit shakier than usual. “i just... wasn't expecting that."

you giggle, now teasingly rubbing the gun against her core. jinx lets out a small gasp, her body arching involuntarily into the touch. her breath comes out in short, shaky pants and her hands clenched into fists as she tries to maintain some semblance of composure.

"s-stop playing with me..." she mutters, her voice sounding needy and desperate despite her best attempts to hide it.

"i don't know what you're talking about," you tease, my voice a low murmur against her ear. "i'm just giving you what you asked for, baby."

you pull back to watch the gun disappear between her thighs, slowly to avoid hurting her.

“how does that feel, hm? is this what you wanted?”

jinx’s body trembles with anticipation, her breath coming out in shaky gasps as she feels the gun pressed against her core.

"y-yes..." she whimpers, her words coming out in a needy whisper. "i-i want... i want more..."

she's unable to hide the desperation in her voice, her body arching back against you as if begging me to give her more.

“inside?” you hummed.

jinx lets out a low moan, her body shuddering with anticipation as her eyes flutter shut. her teeth dig into her lower lip, and you can see the struggle she's having to maintain control.

"y-yes... please," she gasps out, her voice tremulous and desperate.

“needy girl." you mutter to yourself, feeling like you’ve won the lottery.

jinx doesn't respond, too overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through her body, but you can practically feel the heat radiating off her skin.

you push it inside her, easily slipping through her soaked folds. you only put the tip in, paying close attention to her reactions, but she was taking it so well. jinx lets out a soft cry, her back arched to raise her hips, welcoming the intruder between her legs. you start off gentle, pumping it at a calm pace, every time inching in more, just slightly enough to drive her crazy.

“fuck,” she sighs, continuously tensing and relaxing on the desk. “harder..fuck me harder.”

you expected her impatience, and even though you huff at her bossy tone, you give her exactly what she wants.

soon enough, the room is filled with the sounds of gasps and moans, the only thing echoing apart from your voices. her body shakes with pleasure, and she's barely able to form coherent thoughts. her hands clutch at the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she grips desperately.

“say it, jinx,” you huffed, “say who’s making you feel good baby.”

"y-you… it’s you—!” she gasps out in between moans, her voice trembling and breathless as she chants your name like a prayer. "i-i can't take it... it's too much... don't stop, please don't stop."

she's a trembling, whimpering mess, the lines between pleasure and pain blurred to the point where it's almost impossible to tell them apart. her body is sensitive and raw, and every touch, every movement, sends a wave of sensation through her.

you push her further and further towards the edge, watching her come undone little by little. she’s unable to think straight, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through her body. she’s a trembling, whimpering mess at your mercy, completely at your mercy, and it's a sight that fills you with a sense of pride and power. you revel in the knowledge that you’re the one causing her to feel this way, that you’re the one bringing her to this heightened state of ecstasy. it’s addictive, the feeling of having this much control over her.

"please..." jinx gasps out, her voice choked with emotion. "please, i-i can't take it any more..."

she's teetering on the edge, balancing on a knife's edge between ecstasy and torment, and you know that it won't take much to send her over the edge.

“you wanna come?” you whisper into her ear, “d’you wanna make a mess on your desk?”

jinx’s body shudders at my words, a low moan escaping her lips.

"f-fuck, yes..." she whimpers, her voice coming out in a strangled gasp. "please... i... i need to come... need you to make me come."

she’s a trembling mess, on the verge of completely losing control. her body is wound tight, coiled like a snake ready to strike. everything is so heightened, the pleasure intense and overwhelming.

you stop gripping her hip with your other hand only to sneak between her thighs and rub her clit furiously.

“like this?”

the sudden touch makes her body arch and shudder, her muscles tightening involuntarily.

"y-yes, like that," she gasps out, her words coming out in a shaky, breathless rush. "oh, god, please don't stop, don't stop..."

she’s teetering on the edge of an abyss, teetering on the precipice, and all it would take is one little push to send her careening over. you can see the tension in her body, the way it's coiled so tightly, ready to snap. you know she just needs a little more, just a little bit more to send her over the edge. and you’re more than happy to oblige. you push her further, taking her right to the edge and then holding her there.

"you’re so close, aren't you?" you murmur, your lips against her ear. "you’re right on the edge, just need a little push."

her body trembles, her breathing coming out in short, sharp gasps. she’s trying to hold on, to keep herself together, but it's a losing battle.

“come for me~”

those words, those three words, are all it takes. as if they've unlocked something inside her, something that had been coiled tight and waiting to explode.

jinx’s body shudders, her muscles tensing as she careens over the edge. a low, guttural moan escaped her lips, torn from deep within her chest. her body trembles and shudders, waves of pleasure radiating through her. her hands grip the table, fingers digging into the surface as if trying to ground herself. she’s a trembling wreck, boneless and pliant on the desk. her eyes are closed, her face flushed and her breath coming out in short, shaky bursts. after a few long moments, her body relaxes, the tension slowly seeping out of her muscles.

she’s still shaking a little, feeling boneless and weary. her eyes slowly open, meeting yours, the usual steely gaze replaced with a mixture of weariness, pleasure, and vulnerability.

“hey baby,” you say softly, pressing light kisses over her shoulder as you slip the gun out of her and place it on the table.

she groans as the gun slides out of her, her body feeling suddenly empty and sensitive. her eyes flutter shut as you press soft kisses along her skin, her body slowly relaxing under my touch.

"fuck," she mumbles, her voice coming out in a weary, shaky whisper. "that was... that was intense."

you chuckle softly, gently caressing her skin, your touch light and soothing.

"yeah, it was," you murmur, your lips still pressing soft kisses along her shoulder. "you did good, baby. you did real good."

Her breathing slowly starts to even out, her body relaxing further as she basks in the afterglow. she doesn't speak for a few moments, just lets herself enjoy the feeling of my touch and the calming effect it has on her.

yeah, it's fair to say that jinx was thoroughly distracted. her mind was not on her work, and instead, she was completely focused on the feeling of your touch, the taste of your lips, and the warmth of your embrace.

[shanesevikasfuckdoll]

I wanna blow her

a kiss.

[meadowfics]

squid game women: pregnancy and birth headcannons

kang sae byeok x f!reader, kang no-eul x f!reader, ji-yeong x f!reader, cho hyun-ju x f!reader, se-mi x f!reader

how going through reciprocal IVF, and pregnancy, would go with these partners <3

warnings: reciprocal IVF is when one woman takes her egg, along with a sperm donor to create an embryo, then implants it into the other woman to carry :D hyun ju can't go through reciprocal IVF so she is the only exception on here

this is for my sapphics and lesbians

kang sae-byeok x you

deciding to go through reciprocal ivf is something you and sae-byeok talk about for a long time.

you've been with your fiancée for seven years, you know how kind she is underneath her tough persona.

you love the idea of carrying a child that is biologically hers, and she loves that you want to do this together.

the vice versa will happen someday, but you'd happy to be the carrier for the first.

from the moment you start treatments, sae-byeok becomes incredibly protective.

she reads everything she can find.

hormone injections, side effects, potential risks.

she may not always express emotions openly, but she wants to be prepared to support you in every way.

the process is nerve-wracking. when it’s time for the embryo transfer, she holds your hand tightly, squeezing just enough to ground you.

she whispers reassurances, telling you no matter what happens, you’ll go through it together.

the two-week wait to see if the transfer was successful is agonizing.

you analyze every little symptom, overthinking, doubting. sae-byeok keeps you grounded, reminding you not to stress, even though she’s secretly just as anxious.

when the test comes back positive, she doesn’t cry, but her arms wrap around you tightly, her forehead resting against yours.

“we’re going to be someone's parents,”

she murmurs, gripping you like she never wants to let go.

the journey :D

sae-byeok becomes hyper-aware of your needs.

she always makes sure that you eat properly, stay hydrated, and rest enough.

you tease her about being overly protective, but truthfully, it makes you feel so safe.

the morning sickness hits hard, and though she hates seeing you suffer, she does not let you go through it alone.

she researches what helps, keeps crackers by the bed, rubs your back when you lean over the toilet.

“breathe, baby. you’re doing amazing.”

as your belly grows, she watches in fascination.

she loves pressing her hand over your bump, thumb stroking the skin absentmindedly.

the first time she feels the baby kick, she freezes.

afterwards she beams.

its the brightest smile you’ve ever seen on her face.

every night, she talks to the baby.

at first, she’s hesitant, voice shy, but soon, she grows into it.

“hey, little one. it’s me, your eomma. i can’t wait to meet you, okay? you’re already so loved.”

when you find out you’re having a boy, sae-byeok lights up.

she was excited regardless, but now, knowing it’s a boy, she’s thrilled.

she’s raised cheol and loved every second of it.

now, she gets to do it again with your shared child.

you cry during the ultrasound, overwhelmed by the sight of your baby.

sae-byeok wipes your tears with gentle fingers, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“he’s going to be perfect,”

she whispers.

she takes on assembling the nursery all on her own.

you come home to find her halfway through building the crib, looking so concentrated, muttering curses in korean when the pieces don’t fit.

she loves buying little outfits, especially tiny sneakers.

“look at these,”

she says, holding up a pair of mini adidas.

“he’s going to be stylish like his eomma.”

many nights, you and your woman loves to ask many questions.

“what if he has your nose?”

you wonder aloud.

sae-byeok smirks.

“i hope he has your smile.”

when the contractions start at 37 weeks, sae-byeok is calm.

she might be panicking inside, but she doesn’t let it show, keeping you focused, helping you breathe.

at the hospital, she doesn’t leave your side.

not for a second.

she holds your hand through every contraction, the other hand smoothing sweaty hair from your forehead.

labor is long, exhausting, intense, but she is your rock.

“i know it hurts,”

she murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your knuckles.

“you’re the strongest person i know, baby. i’m right here.”

when it’s finally time to push, she’s right there, whispering,

“you can do this. i know you can.”

the moment your son is born, his cries fill the room, and your own tears spill.

you’re exhausted but relieved, and then you see sae-byeok’s expression.

she’s stunned. completely awestruck. when the nurse places your son on your chest, sae-byeok gently reaches out, tracing his tiny fingers.

“he looks just like you,”

you whisper breathlessly, staring at his delicate features.

he does.

the little boy's almond-shaped eyes, the curve of his lips...they are all sae-byeok. it’s uncanny.

sae-byeok chokes up. you see it in the way she swallows thickly, eyes glassy.

“he’s perfect,”

she whispers.

she watches as you hold your son, love and admiration evident in her gaze.

when it’s her turn to hold him, she’s hesitant, as if afraid she’ll break him.

the second he’s in her arms, something shifts.

“hi, little one,”

she whispers, brushing her fingers across his chubby cheeks.

he squirms but doesn’t cry, almost as if recognizing her already.

“you’re so beautiful,”

she says softly, in absolute awe.

you watch her cradle him, murmuring in korean, and your heart nearly bursts.

ji-yeong x you

ji-yeong never thought she’d be here.

she never thought she’d want this, wanted parenthood.

for most of her life, she never imagined being a mother, never let herself dream of having a family.

there was too much pain involved and too much loss.

why bring a child into a world that once showed her nothing but cruelty?

after surviving the games, something changed.

she was given a second chance and with you by her side, she started seeing the world differently.

ji-yeong did not see it as just as a place of suffering, but as a place where love could exist, where healing was possible.

the woman still hesitated, though.

she was scared.

when you told her you wanted to carry her child, that you wanted a piece of her to live on in something beautiful, she felt something in her chest crack open.

she wanted this.

she wanted this with you.

the ivf process was overwhelming, and ji-yeong wasn’t great at handling emotions, but she was there for you.

she researched everything, attended every appointment, held your hand through every step.

when you got the positive test, she froze.

ji-yeong didn’t cry, she didn’t speak.

all she did was just pulled you into her arms, burying her face into your shoulder, breathing in the moment like she needed it to survive.

the journey :D

ji-yeong was so nervous in the beginning.

she worried she wouldn’t know how to be a good partner, how to support you properly.

she overcompensated by bringing you things all the time.

snacks, warm blankets, flowers for no reason.

“you’re taking care of two now,”

she’d mumble, placing another snack in front of you.

you’d laugh, shaking your head, but appreciating her attentiveness.

the first ultrasound changed something in her.

she saw the tiny flicker of a heartbeat on the screen, and for the first time, she felt it.

this wasn’t just a decision.

this was real.

this was her baby that you were carrying.

when you found out it was a girl, ji-yeong actually let out a breath of relief.

an all-girl family.

there was no father figure to fear, no possibility of the life she lived repeating itself.

she felt safer knowing it was a daughter.

she always said she didn’t care about the gender, but deep down, she needed this.

“she’s gonna be so cool,”

ji-yeong would say, resting her head on your belly.

“we’ll teach her about music, and video games, and—oh, she’s gonna have the best style. no baby frilly pink stuff, i’m serious.”

she was so soft with you.

ji-yeong, who always acted aloof, who always teased and played things off, was suddenly waking up earlier just to make sure you ate breakfast.

she’d read to the baby sometimes, though she tried to act nonchalant about it.

you’d catch her mumbling stories late at night, one hand resting over your belly, as if she was already bonding with your daughter.

after 39 weeks... ji-yeong was terrified when the contractions started.

she kept it together for you, but internally? she was freaking out.

ji-yeong hated seeing you in pain.

the woman held your hand the entire time, whispering quiet encouragements even though her voice was shaking.

she didn’t cry, but her eyes were glassy, focused entirely on you, as if she could transfer all your pain onto herself if she tried hard enough.

finally after some time.. your daughter was here.

ji-yeong’s world stopped when she heard the first tiny cry. she barely registered the doctor announcing,

“it’s a girl,” since she already knew.

when they placed your daughter on your chest, ji-yeong hesitated.

she wanted to reach out, to touch her, to hold her, but suddenly, a crushing fear settled in.

"what if i can’t protect her? what if she ends up hurt, alone, abandoned? what if history repeats itself?"

ji-yeong wanted this.

she knew that but staring at her daughter, so small, so fragile, she felt terrified.

you noticed the way ji-yeong stared, her eyes distant, fear creeping in.

you squeezed her hand, bringing her back.

“she’s going to be okay,”

you whispered, voice steady despite your exhaustion.

“because she has us.”

ji-yeong let out a shaky breath, her fingers twitching before she finally reached out, brushing her daughter’s tiny hand with her fingertips.

your daughter’s fingers curled slightly around hers, and ji-yeong broke.

she leaned in, pressing the softest kiss to her baby’s forehead, her eyes shining with something raw and real.

as you watched her, you knew ji-yeong was going to be the best mom in the world.

even if she never expected to be one.

kang no-eul x you

no-eul never thought she would have another child.

after everything she went through to get seo-yeon back, she swore she would never go through that kind of pain again.

she didn't need anything else.

seo-yeon was enough.

however, there was you.

you had been there for her through everything.

you've been with her through the long nights of waiting, the uncertainty, the frustration.

you held her through the tears, reassured her when she felt like she’d never see her daughter again.

when she did, you were there too. right beside her.

seo-yeon was two when the conversation started.

it was casual at first...something small, something distant.

“i think… i’d like for her to have a sibling,”

no-eul admitted one night, her fingers brushing against your hand.

you agreed but you both knew you wanted this to be together, something that tied both of you into this growing family.

after a long discussion, you both decided that no-eul would carry your egg.

“you’ve done this before,”

you said softly.

“and i think it would be nice, having a little girl that’s biologically mine.”

she nodded, lips pressed together, but you could see the emotions in her eyes.

this was a big step, one she never thought she’d take.

she wanted this.

she wanted this with you.

the journey :D

from the moment the pregnancy test turned positive, you spoiled no-eul.

she didn’t ask for it.

she never asked for anything.

however, you could see the way her body adjusted, the way she carried herself differently, the quiet discomfort she tried to hide.

“i’m fine,”

she would say, but you knew better.

you weren’t letting her go through this without being treated like a queen.

the morning sickness hit her hard, and you were on it.

herbal teas, cool washcloths, soft touches along her back as she leaned over the sink.

“you don’t have to do all this,”

she mumbled one morning, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

you kissed her temple, brushing stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“i want to.”

no-eul was never one for outward affection, but pregnancy softened her in ways neither of you expected.

she let herself be comforted.

no-eul let herself lean into your warmth instead of pushing it away.

she rested against you more often, let you rub her swollen feet, let you hold her when exhaustion settled deep into her bones.

seo-yeon was fascinated by the pregnancy, constantly asking questions, resting her small hands on no-eul’s belly, talking to the baby like they could understand.

“i think she’ll be bossy,”

you teased, watching seo-yeon give a full speech to her future sibling.

no-eul chuckled, running a hand through her daughter’s hair.

“she gets that from you.”

when the ultrasound revealed you were having another girl, no-eul let out a soft breath. a smile stretched across her lips, small but real.

you squeezed her hand.

“you okay?”

she nodded.

“yeah… i’m happy.”

no-eul was never one to show fear, but as labor began, you saw it aka the slight tremor in her hands, and the deep breaths she took to steady herself.

she had done this before, but it had been different.

this time, she wasn’t alone.

this time, she had you.

you held her hand through every contraction, whispering soft encouragements, pressing kisses to her temple.

“you’ve got this, baby. i’m right here.”

it was long and exhausting.

no-eul was strong and you had never seen her stronger.

when your daughter finally entered the world, a small cry filling the room, no-eul broke.

the woman's hands trembled as they placed the baby on her chest.

she stared down at her daughter, the tiny life she had carried.

its your daughter, and no-eul's lips parted, her breath shaky.

“she looks just like you,”

she whispered, voice thick with emotion.

she did.

the shape of her nose, the curve of her lips.

your daughter was undeniably yours.

you brushed damp hair from no-eul’s forehead, pressing a lingering kiss there.

“she’s perfect.”

no-eul nodded, but she was speechless.

you had never seen her this quiet, this soft.

she cradled the baby carefully, as if afraid she might disappear if she held on too tightly.

se-mi x you

se-mi had always been cool about things.

she didn’t get overly emotional, didn’t overthink the future, semi just lived.

when you started talking about ivf and the possibility of having kids, something in her shifted.

you've been with se-mi for about five years.

the woman wasn’t the type to voice big, sappy declarations, but when you told her you wanted to carry her children, she simply nodded and said,

“okay. let’s do it.”

she thought the idea of you carrying her babies was not only hot, but loving.

se-mi's confidence kept you grounded.

she never wavered, never second-guessed.

when you were nervous about the process, she squeezed your hand and said,

“whatever happens, we’re in this together and I am here for you, okay?”

she was always calm, always composed.

when the doctor told you both that two embryos had implanted successfully, her eyebrows lifted slightly.

“twins?”

she asked, as if double-checking.

when the doctor confirmed, she just smirked.

“guess we’re going big, huh?”

despite her casual demeanor, she was so excited.

she didn’t say it outright, but you could tell. s

he was always looking up twin-related stuff, researching double strollers, subtly adjusting things around the house to prepare.

the journey :D

se-mi showed her love through acts of service.

she wasn’t overly vocal about her feelings, but she made sure you were always taken care of.

craving something at 3 a.m.?

she was already on her way to get it.

too tired to get up?

she carried you to bed with zero effort.

swollen feet? she had ice packs and a foot massage ready.

“babe, you don’t have to—”

“shh,”

she’d say, pressing a cool water bottle into your hand.

“just take it.”

she never freaked out.

not when you got sick, not when the back pain kicked in, not even when you had a full-blown pregnancy meltdown over a broken shoelace.

she just handed you a new pair of shoes and pulled you in for a hug.

se-mi was always touching your belly.

she did it absentmindedly.

when you were watching tv, when you were cooking, when she was half-asleep in bed.

se-mi's hand would just naturally find its way there.

she loved feeling the twins kick.

she’d rest her palm against your stomach, feeling the movement, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“they’re strong,”

she murmured one night.

you raised a brow.

“like you?”

she smirked.

“like us.”

the moment your water broke at 34 weeks, se-mi was ready.

no panic, no scrambling.

she had the hospital bag, the car keys, and a calm but firm presence that made you feel safe.

at the hospital, she stayed by your side through everything.

se-mi held your hand during contractions, helped you breathe, brushed damp hair from your face.

“you’re doing amazing, baby,”

she murmured, voice steady as always.

“just a little longer.”

when the twins finally arrived, a boy and a girl, se-mi’s cool demeanor cracked just slightly.

she was still composed, but you saw the way her throat bobbed, the way her fingers trembled when she reached out to touch them for the first time.

“they’re beautiful,”

she whispered.

the boy had her nose, the girl had her sharp eyes.

she just stared at them, completely in awe.

cho hyun-ju x you

hyun ju and you are the exception on this thread.

the both of you went through natural conception, since hyun ju never had bottom surgery yet.

the thing is that a child together wasn’t something you and hyun-ju rushed into.

you've been with hyun ju for a very long time. seven years.

the idea of having childern came with deep conversations and quiet reassurances that no matter what, you’d face everything together.

hyun-ju was so thoughtful from the very beginning.

she made sure you felt comfortable, safe, and loved through every step of the journey.

she always asked what you needed, always reminded you that your body was incredible for doing this.

sometimes, hyun ju remembers that she doesn't have the body that you have to carry a pregnancy, but you always remind her that she is still a woman and a complete woman, the woman that you will always love.

when you found out you were expecting a girl, your heart swelled. you knew she was going to be so loved.

“she’s going to have the best mommies,”

you whispered, pressing a hand to your belly.

hyun-ju kissed your forehead and smiled.

“she really is.”

she was so soft throughout your pregnancy.

hyun ju always rubbed your back when you were sore, making sure you were eating well, constantly checking in without being overbearing.

“do you need anything, baby?”

she’d ask at random times, even if you were perfectly fine.

“just you,”

you’d reply, and she’d smile, pulling you close.

you often wondered what your daughter would look like.

would she have your eyes and hyun-ju’s nose?

or the other way around?

hyun-ju would laugh when you brought it up.

“either way, she’s going to be beautiful,”

she’d say, her hand resting protectively over your belly.

she talked to the baby all the time.

the taller woman's voice was so gentle, so full of love.

“hey, little one. we can’t wait to meet you. your mama is so strong, you know that?”

she wasn’t super vocal about her emotions, but she showed them in every action.

whether it was holding you a little longer when you felt emotional, or putting together the nursery late at night while humming softly to herself.

“you should rest,”

you’d say, watching her adjust the baby’s crib for the tenth time.

she’d glance at you with a smile.

“i just want everything to be perfect for her.”

when the contractions started at 40 weeks, hyun-ju was calm.

she had that calmness and patience thanks to the military.

hyun-ju's hand was steady in yours, her voice soft as she helped you breathe through the pain.

“you’ve got this, mama,”

she whispered, pressing kisses to your temple between contractions.

“you’re so strong.”

she never left your side through every moment of labor.

hyun ju was always right there and squeezing your hand, reminding you how incredible you were.

when your daughter was born, hyun-ju’s breath hitched.

the second she saw her, she went completely silent, just staring in awe.

the nurse placed the baby on your chest, and you both just stared.

she was perfect.

the perfect mix of you and hyun-ju.

the girl was biologically yours and hyun-jus!

“she’s so beautiful,”

you murmured, your voice breaking with emotion.

hyun-ju wiped at her eyes, smiling softly.

“she really is.”

after everything had settled, you caught hyun-ju sitting beside the hospital bed, your daughter cradled carefully in her strong arms.

she was so gentle, looking down at her with the softest expression you had ever seen.

“you okay?”

you whispered, watching her from the bed.

she nodded, swallowing hard.

“i just… i love her so much already.”

your heart melted.

“she’s going to be so lucky. she has you as her mommy.”

hyun-ju looked up at you, eyes full of warmth. she leaned over, pressing the softest kiss to your lips.

“and she has you, too.”

this a week to write. I hope you enjoyed <3

masterlist

[reikitwo2]

I was sitting just like this but we were both totally naked. I didn't know Mom stood at my door fingering herself as she watched us. We got dressed and headed into the kitchen, we were both in need of water. We found Mom preparing dinner. She asked my girl if she would like to stay for dinner, she couldn't. As we were eating Mom asked 'how long you been a lesbian?' Shocked by the direct question, I answered 'all my life. I tried cock and hated it'. I saw you two naked getting close to a horny session. I liked what I saw. I am also a lesbian Darling. Yes Dad knows and he was happy to impregnate me so I could have you. As thanks he can fuck me when he needs or wants to.

Darling if you need a partner and can't get one of your friends I am happy to do anything you want. From this moment on your Mom is freeuse for you. Mom if your serious there is about 15 of us getting together for an orgy in a couple of weeks. If you like you can join us. There is about 4 other Mothers that will be there. I think you know two or three of the Mothers who will be there. The only rule is that you can't hero's or bi's who attends. Mom came over, grabbed my left boob and deep throated a kiss and said 'I would love to come'.

[natsredbra]

Nat with a girlfriend who is a "mean girl" of the school's Queen Bee type and who defends Natalie tooth and nail

She's a "Sweet Strawberry" but she would turn into a very, very sour lemon if someone messed with Natalie<3 and when I say she would be a sour lemon I mean she would go INSANE, like she would slash all FOUR tires on some jerks' car who messed with Natalie, or put up posters around the school with a picture of a cheerleader cheating on her boyfriend because she said something bad about Natalie and so on.

The sweetest and most loving girlfriend who would do anything for her other half even if it means ending the school life of anyone who even dares to speak ill or look at her love the wrong way🤭

Behind every critical bisexual is an even more critical and mean lesbian.

(By the way, all of this fits a bit into something I really want to write about at some point.)

loser x popular trope save me…save me loser x popular trope

reader who is actually one of the good popular kids and is kind but stil, everyone knows that she’s not like say jackie and she has a snark to her

r who is in a friend group with jackie shauna and lottie and is also super rich; she and lottie are like sisters and are both known for throwing cool ass parties

and lottie introduces this girl from her team to you in one of them - she’s got a blonde mullet and dresses pretty punk rock. you took a liking to her instantly

they start dating and jackie hates it so much LMAO (mostly because you’re cheering for nat instead of her at the soccer games)

now even before, because of your friends you were pretty familiar with the team but once you start going out with nat you’re practically an honorary member……..kinda what misty tried to be but didn’t get to (because you’re actually likeable to the girls)

what nat definitely loves most is your protectiveness

like at first people joked with it but loled and then serioused when they realized you did NOT. i mean i dare someone to slutshame nat around you……seriously, go for it……..

genuinely since she started dating you she got way less bullied when people saw what the concequences of said bullying could be

all the things you mentioned, egging their house, keying their car, phone call pranks that reallyyyyy make them shit their pants, straight up assult (not hitting per se but still), all depends on what they did to her

and as i said, reader has an attitude, however kind they are so……..everyone notices how it vanishes around natalie

bringing y’alls friend groups together was a shitshow lemme tell you that

[heartofbalemoon]

seeing this pop up again so- my blorbos bring all their wives to the yard 🗣💯💯💕

[kristina100000]

hi, my love. feel free to answer this privately, if you'd like. i'm reaching out because i'm working on my debut novel and my epigraph is actually one of your posts. i just wanted to double check that it would be okay to use it? it's this:

I have been meaning to reach out to you but the window was open and everything seemed so lovely outside so I forgot…but I still love you give me just a minute.

if not, i'll use something else immediately. thank you so much. i hope you're doing so well. x

go ahead… good luck with your novel i hope there is a lesbian threesome in it

[elyxir1zz]

★ — Only a vampire can love you forever | ch 3

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ᴄʜᴜʙʙʏ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 2.6ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

CW : dark!sevika, age gap, private school, toxic, forbidden love, mentions of blood, hopeless lesbians, TEACHER X STUDENT, porn with plot, oral sex, reader is a virgin, innocent reader, theres like a 500 year age gap, courruption

A/N : its here.

MEN + MINORS DNI

“Listen, Y/N.”

Caitlyn sat at your desk while you lay sprawled on your bed, propped up on your elbows. Her tone was firm, her expression serious.

“I mean it. Don’t talk to anyone at my parents’ party tonight. Just go straight to the lounging rooms. I’ll come get you when it’s over.”

You fidgeted with the hem of your uniform skirt, rolling your eyes. “Caitlyn, I know. You give me this lecture every time I come within fifty feet of your parents and their mysterious friends.” You giggled, trying to lighten the mood.

Caitlyn sighed, about to respond when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen before standing up, grabbing her navy-blue jacket from the back of your desk chair.

“I have to get my dress tailored for tonight.”

“See you then,” you murmured, rolling onto your back and staring at your phone.

“Byeeee,” Caitlyn called over her shoulder, closing the dorm door behind her.

You exhaled, eyes locked on the empty Google search bar. Another week of avoiding Sevika. Every time she asked you to stay after class, you had an excuse—a test next period, an urgent study session. You even debated switching English classes. But ever since that day… something held you back. A boundary you couldn’t cross. A gut feeling whispering that if you tried to leave, Sevika would drag you back somehow.

Your fingers hesitated over the keyboard before typing:

Are vampires real?

The page loaded, filling with historical articles and folklore. You scrolled absently until something caught your eye.

A Reddit post.

"Kiramman family and their ties with vampires?"

Your breath hitched.

You clicked it.

Eyes scanning the comments, your pulse quickened with every line. You reached the bottom, heart pounding.

Turning off your phone, you stared blankly at the ceiling, mind racing back to every suspicious encounter you’d ever had with Caitlyn’s family.

You stand outside the Kiramman family mansion, fidgeting with the sleeves of your jacket. Taking a deep breath, you step inside.

Classical music drifts through the grand hall, mingling with the soft clinking of glasses and hushed conversations. Everyone is dressed elegantly, their faces hidden behind intricate masquerade masks. You feel instantly out of place, dodging the larger crowds as you weave through the room.

Your gaze lingers on a wine glass in a woman’s hand. It’s filled with deep red liquid—red wine, probably. But the longer you stare, the darker it seems to get, thick like syrup. Your stomach tightens.

“Y/N?”

The voice startles you.

Of course. As if she was following you, Sevika stands right there.

She’s wearing a black suit lined with crimson, the top buttons undone just enough to reveal her toned chest. Her sharp eyes flick over you, scanning your disheveled state.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice laced with concern.

You glance down at yourself, suddenly hyperaware of how out of place you look. Still in your school uniform—messy, untucked. Your jacket is tied around your waist, and through the thin fabric of your white polo, your black bra is faintly visible.

“I’m just visiting Caitlyn,” you blurt, biting your thumbnail nervously.

Sevika smirks, tilting her head as she looks down at you. “How’s your Pride and Prejudice essay coming along?”

Her fangs glint slightly as she speaks, and you swear she’s running her tongue over them every time you do.

You’re so caught up in the tension that you don’t realize you’ve bitten through your nail until warm blood drips down your hand.

The moment it hits the air, the room shifts.

You feel eyes on you. Too many.

Shit.

You look down at your hand, heart pounding. “Damn it,” you whisper, frowning.

Sevika takes a step toward you.

You gasp and instinctively step back.

“Y/N! What are you doing?!”

Caitlyn’s sharp accent cuts through the air. Before you can react, she’s gripping your wrist, practically dragging you through the room. You hadn’t even noticed her approaching.

She doesn’t stop until you’re in the lounge, shoving you onto one of the ornate couches.

“Are you okay?! I should’ve escorted you!” she huffs, sitting beside you. Her eyes flick to your hand, concern written all over her face.

“Caitlyn.”

She doesn’t hear you, too focused on wrapping a bandage around your thumb. She’s still rambling, apologizing over and over.

“Caitlyn,” you try again.

Still nothing.

“Caitlyn!”

She finally looks up, startled.

You swallow hard, your fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt. “I have a really stupid question.”

Her expression shifts instantly—her lips pressing into a thin line, her shoulders tensing, as if she already knows what you’re about to ask.

“…Are you a vampire?”

Your voice is quiet, filled with sincerity.

Caitlyn stares at you, searching your face. You can see the internal battle waging in her mind. Seconds feel like minutes.

Then, finally—

“…Yes.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

She notices and immediately furrows her brows. “Y/N… breathe,” she says softly, holding out her hand in a reassuring manner, trying to place it on your shoulder.

But you flinch.

Her eyes widen. “Are you… scared?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly shake your head. “No—I could never be scared of you.” Your voice wavers. “I’m just… I guess I’m still shaken up.”

Caitlyn nods slowly, giving you space.

“So… all those people out there…” You glance toward the door, toward the party.

She follows your gaze and exhales. “Yeah…” she whispers.

A heavy silence settles between you.

Then, in a voice so small it almost breaks your heart, Caitlyn asks, “…Are we still friends?”

She looks down at her lap, as if bracing herself for the worst.

You hesitate—just for a second—before pulling her into a tight hug.

She stiffens in surprise but quickly melts into it, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing back.

“I will always be your friend,” you whisper into her shoulder.

Caitlyn exhales a shaky breath, holding on just a little tighter.

You were stuck in the lounge, waiting for the party to wrap up so you and Caitlyn could finally leave—maybe catch a movie or just do something normal for once.

With a groan, you sprawled out on the couch, staring up at the ceiling, drumming your fingers against your stomach.

The door creaked open.

You shot up instantly. “Caitlyn?”

But it wasn’t her.

Sevika stood in the doorway, closing it behind her with a soft click.

Your stomach twisted.

“I—what are you doing?” you asked, tilting your head as she took slow, deliberate steps toward you.

“I want to talk,” she said, her voice steady but laced with something unreadable. “You keep avoiding me.”

She reached out slightly, but before she could touch you, you stood up, stepping away from her.

“Ever since you showed up in my life, everything has been so—so fucking weird!” you burst out, voice shaking.

Sevika's eyes darkened—not with anger, but something softer. Sadness, maybe.

“I—” she hesitated, like she was choosing her words carefully. “The moment I saw you in my classroom, I knew you were going to be mine. And I was going to make you mine.”

You let out a nervous, almost hysterical laugh, as if she was joking.

“I’m—I’m not just a piece of meat!” you yelled.

Sevika stood up immediately.

You flinched, instinctively stepping back.

Her gaze locked onto you, unwavering.

��No. You’re not,” she murmured, stepping forward, closing the space between you. “You’re so much more.”

For once, you didn’t step back.

Tears welled in your eyes, slipping down your cheeks as you looked up at her.

Sevika exhaled softly, cupping your face in her rough hand, her thumb brushing away the tears.

“Sweet girl,” she whispered.

Something inside you cracked.

Without realizing it, you leaned into her touch.

She guided you back toward the couch, slow and careful, sitting you down before lowering herself beside you.

She sat wide-legged, leaning back slightly, exuding that effortless, unshaken confidence. But there was something different now—less predatory, more patient.

And as she watched you, her fingers still resting lightly against your skin, you realized—whether you ran or not, whether you avoided her or not—Sevika wasn't letting you go.

"Um… can you answer some questions for me?" you whisper.

Sevika watches you carefully before giving a slow nod.

You hesitate for a second, then ask, "How close were the movies?"

At first, she thinks you're joking. But when she sees the seriousness in your eyes, she lets out a quiet chuckle, shaking her head as she looks down.

"Alright…" She rubs her forehead, as if sorting through centuries of knowledge. "We're not allergic to water or the sun, but I do know a lot of pale vampires who get second-degree burns just from stepping outside."

You nod along, processing. "What about crosses?"

Tilting your head like a curious puppy, you watch her lean back slightly, considering.

"Some crucifixes can burn us, but honestly? It’s been years. We’ve been underground for decades—I doubt any of those old weapons even exist anymore."

You chew on your lip. "Can vampires be born, or do you have to be turned?"

Sevika glances at her metal hand. There’s a flicker of something in her expression, something distant.

"I was born pure," she finally says, voice quieter. "Which means I was conceived by vampires. But I’ve met people who were turned… They're weaker than us, but still strong."

Your fingers toy with the hem of your skirt. You hesitate, then blurt out, "What happened to your arm?"

You half-expect her to get defensive, but she just shrugs.

"When I was about a hundred years old—during the Salem witch trials—the Church cut it off."

Your breath catches. Your eyes widen.

She watches your reaction with mild amusement. "Don’t feel bad. They got what was coming to them."

Before you can ask what she means by that, her hand settles on your thigh.

"Is that enough answers for you?" she teases, smirking.

You swallow. Your heartbeat pounds against your ribs.

"Can I feed you?" you say abruptly.

Sevika stills.

"I—" She exhales sharply, as if the question physically knocked the breath out of her. "Sweetheart, the last time I tasted your blood, I lost myself."

Your hand moves over hers, fingers tracing the cool metal of her prosthetic. "Have you… drank from anyone else? Since that day in the classroom?"

She lets out a slow breath, jaw tightening.

"A few people," she admits. "But only because you were avoiding me." She runs a hand over the back of her neck, suddenly looking unsure of herself.

Guilt prickles at your skin. You squeeze her hand.

"I—I'm sorry," you whisper.

She shakes her head immediately. "You were scared. And that was my fault."

Her voice is softer now, lacking the usual edge.

After what felt like endless pleading, Sevika finally gives in. Before you know it, she has you pinned against the couch, her weight pressing you down.

"Baby," she murmurs, forcing your gaze to meet hers. Her fingers tilt your chin up. "If it gets too much, I want you to push me off."

You nod, breath shaky.

She kisses the old scar where she bit you before, lips lingering there like a silent apology. Then, slowly, she trails kisses down to your collarbone, her tongue flicking against your skin.

Your breath catches. Your pulse quickens.

You tilt your head back, giving her access.

"Good girl," she murmurs, voice deep and husky.

Her mouth hovers just over your pulse. For a second, she hesitates. Then—she bites.

A sharp whimper escapes your lips as her fangs sink in. Your body tenses, squirming under her, but her hands tighten around you, keeping you still.

You stare up at the ceiling, your fingers twitching against the couch. There's a strange, intoxicating pull to the sensation—pain laced with pleasure, dizzying yet grounding.

Sevika closes her eyes as she drinks. Fuck. Your blood is still as sweet as she remembers. It takes everything in her not to lose herself completely, not to keep going until you're limp in her arms.

But she catches herself—just barely—before she takes too much.

Pulling back, she sits up, panting slightly. Blood still drips from the fresh punctures on your neck, staining the collar of your white polo shirt. She leans down, licking the remnants off your skin, savoring the last drops.

"You did so good," she breathes, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her tongue runs over her fangs, savoring the lingering taste of you.

And in that moment, as you lay there catching your breath, you realize—you were never in control of this. Not really.

Sevika grins as her fingertips trail over the buttons of your shirt, slowly unfastening them while intermittently glancing at your face, watching for any hint of unease. Her eyes wander to the intricate black lace of your bra before she can't resist giving your breast a playful squeeze, delighting in the small squeak that escapes you.

You flush and gaze at her with wide, innocent eyes. "I—I’ve never done this before," you murmur softly, and she responds with a knowing smirk.

"I’ll take good care of you," she reassures, her tone smooth as her hands creep upward along your thighs, slipping discreetly beneath your skirt. With practiced ease, she hooks a finger under the hem of your panties and slowly slides them down.

You prop yourself on your elbows, watching her every move. Sevika’s smirk deepens when she sees your panties fully off, and with a casual flick she tosses them across the room before lifting your legs and resting them on her shoulders.

A giggle escapes you as you try to settle into a more comfortable position, while Sevika admires your delicate pink heat. "You’re gorgeous," she coos, running a finger teasingly through your slick folds.

At her touch, you tense, squeezing your eyes shut and tilting your head back. "So wet for me…" she murmurs, trailing kisses along the inside of your thigh before hesitating. Suddenly, a sharp pain flashes through you.

"Did you just bite me?" you blurt out, and she nods with a chuckle. "Good blood flow," she replies, licking at the small bleeding mark with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

You wince and bite your lower lip as she studies you, then leans in and slips her tongue between your folds. A gasp escapes you as you tilt your head back further, whispering, "Fuck—" softly. She laughs, pressing her nose against your clit.

A soft moan escapes you as you squeeze your thighs together, half-threatening to crush her head. Sevika grips your hips, drawing you closer as she teases your entrance. You whimper as your tight little opening clutches at nothing.

"I wish I’d brought my strap," she sighs, before plunging her tongue into your entrance. You gasp and arch your back, calling out, "V-Vika," yet your pleas are lost as she seems too lost in the moment to hear. Her tongue laps relentlessly at your folds without a hint of pause.

As you slowly lower your hips and try to pull away, she yanks you back, laughing, "Don’t run, doll," while she continues licking your clit slowly, nearly shoving two thick fingers inside you at the same time.

You gasp at the sudden intensity, grinding your hips into her face until she finally relents. "Gonna cum, baby? Cum on my fingers," she demands, and your body obeys; your legs seize as an overwhelming rush crashes over you.

You tilt your head back, eyes firmly closed while Sevika gently releases your hips, watching your chest rise and fall. "Still with me, baby?" she teases.

Just then, the door swings open and Sevika’s head snaps toward it. "Okay, are you ready to—" Caitlyn’s jaw drops at the sight of you completely overwhelmed and Sevika straddling you. "I—" Caitlyn steps back slowly, closing the door behind her.

"Shit—" Sevika mutters as she rises, following after Caitlyn.