#and there were a couple older lesbians shopping there

[cat--boy]

oh yeah guys i got a trans flag today when i went to the town near the vacation house we're staying at w my grandma. she doesnt know i got it she just told me to get anything when we went wondering around. but cant wait to show it when i get home !!

[sweetblinginrose]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲’𝐬 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥! ,

(OS Steve Harrington x fem!reader Kline x Robin Buckley)

summary: you, Steve’s ex-girlfriend, bounce out of town because of your dad’s passing. You decide to swing back during the holidays after your big transformation, only to stumble upon this chick who’s feeding into your sensual cravings.

word count: 11k +

warnings: infidelity, oral sex (receiving, female), homophobia, lesbianism, two-year age difference (both are older), kisses, inexperience, scissoring, no cuddling after sex, caught by a bystander.

a/n: i wrote this bored, so there’s a bit of filler. not recommended for folks craving instant action, there’s some backstory here. can’t promise it’s all good, wrote it while watching a movie lol

masterlist

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Indeed, your life seemed like a modern fairy tale, but with a touch of irony. Being the daughter of Mayor Laurence ‘Larry’ Kline, your existence was wrapped in an aura of privilege and power. However, not everything that glitters is gold, and behind the facade of perfection, secrets and uncomfortable truths were hidden, but you ignored them.

Since childhood, you were the center of attention, not only for being the mayor’s descendant, but also for your innate charisma. Your room was a sanctuary of toys and luxuries: shelves filled with porcelain dolls with glassy eyes that seemed to follow you around, drawers overflowing with colorful ribbons that adorned your hair, and a vanity covered with imported makeup you hadn’t even fully learned how to use. Your clothes were never repeated. You had a wardrobe that rivaled the most exclusive shops, with designer dresses and shoes that squeaked when you wore them for the first time. The attention you received was constant and sometimes overwhelming. Boys and girls your age looked at you with a mix of admiration and envy, while adults treated you with a deference that bordered on servile. And then there was Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington, the golden boy of Hawkins, your favorite plaything, whose attention seemed to be the most coveted prize. His charming smile and perfectly styled hair were the dream of many, but he only had eyes for you. However, even that perfect relationship had its cracks, its secrets that only you knew, since you had been fortunate enough to snatch his virginity.

With every step you took down the hallway, the murmur of conversations mingled with the sound of your little platforms. Your pastel yellow Chanel skirt was like a ray of sunshine amidst the monotony, drawing looks that oscillated between admiration and envy. You felt as if you were on an impromptu catwalk, with the school hallways transformed into your personal stage.

Your best friend, always by your side, shared your confident and elegant attitude. Although rumors said her financial situation wasn’t as comfortable, her demeanor and style left no doubt that she was up to the challenge. Together, you formed a dynamic duo, two fashion forces in a sea of sportswear and uniformity.

As you passed by Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler, the couple of the moment, you felt a spark of satisfaction. Despite their smiles and the image of happiness they projected, there was an open secret that everyone in the school knew: Steve was with Nancy trying to fill the void you had left, just as he does with all the girls. His presence by her side was only a shadow compared to the memories he shared with you. It was a game of appearances and hidden emotions, a delicate dance of glances and whispers that intertwined in the everyday life of the school day. And in that dance, you held the baton, aware of every movement and the melody that only you could orchestrate.

Every time you approached Steve, your steps were confident and your presence unmistakable. You could see how his world paused for a moment, how his eyes left whatever had captured his attention to meet yours. Even in the most unexpected moments, like when his lips were about to touch Nancy’s, he would pull away, as if an invisible magnet was drawing him towards you.

“Hi, Stevie…” you would say with a warm voice and a tone that resonated with a mixture of respect and genuine affection. It wasn’t just a formality imposed by the long-standing friendship between your father and his, but a gesture you sincerely enjoyed.

His response never changed: a silly smile, one of those that appear without permission from the brain and speak more of feelings than words. It was a smile that didn’t need embellishments or explanations, that said “Glad to see you…” without needing to utter a single syllable. And although he would never admit it out loud, you knew that smile was just for you, a small secret shared in the midst of daily routine.

With a subtle yet meaningful gesture, you ran your tongue over your lower lip, a slow and deliberate movement that didn’t go unnoticed. Your eyebrows arched slightly, an unequivocal signal that only he could decipher. You looked him up and down, a quick but intense scan that confirmed the mutual attention. Then, with a grace that seemed as natural as breathing, you decided to continue on your way, letting the pastel yellow skirt sway gently with each step you took.

To any casual observer, your behavior was nothing more than a mundane greeting, one of those social exchanges that fade into the collective memory of everyday life. However, what they were unaware of was the espionage game hidden behind that facade of normalcy. That “Stevie” pronounced with a particular cadence and that raising of eyebrows were the secret code, the agreed signal that indicated it was time to act.

He, knowing its meaning, didn’t hesitate for a second. Anything he was doing was suspended, abandoned without remorse.

With the mental agility of an experienced spy, he turned to Nancy with an apologetic expression on his face. “Nancy, I’m sorry, but I need to check something on the sound system,” he said, his voice attempting to sound casual but unable to fully hide the underlying urgency. “I think I left something on and I don’t want it to overheat.”

Nancy, accustomed to his sudden technical disappearances, nodded with a understanding smile. “It’s okay, Steve. Go and fix whatever you need,” she replied, releasing him with a gentle pat on the arm.

His steps quickened, driven by the urgency of that silent call, heading towards the stairs hidden behind the locker rooms. It was a ritual they had perfected over time, a dance of glances and gestures that communicated much more than words ever could…

The muffled whisper faded into the dimness, a secret confessed only to the dancing shadows around. Each touch of his tongue was a promise, a silent oath igniting a cascade of sensations, a rushing river flowing through every fiber of your being, and especially through your thighs. You grasped his hair, those rebellious strands privileged only to be tousled by your fingers, while struggling to contain the torrent of emotions threatening to sweep you away. The coolness of the stone against your back was an anchor, the sole reminder that you still belonged to this world, intensifying the clandestine atmosphere of pleasure you both shared.

In the dimness of the old stairs, the world narrowed down to the haze around you and whispers. The flickers of light that seeped through played hide and seek among the forgotten corners, barely revealing Steve’s silhouette. His face, adorned with cute moles forming constellations, was hidden in the depths of your skirt, a mystery, an enigma defying reality with his presence. Despite the faint darkness surrounding you, your eyes had adapted enough to distinguish his, shining with a fierce passion, an uncontrollable flame consuming the air between you, making you tremble even more. Every stroke of his tongue, every suction, was a torment and a pleasure intertwined dragging you towards a forbidden ecstasy.

The echo of your moans intertwined with the gentle murmur of the wind, creating a symphony of desire in the air charged with anticipation. With each movement, each touch, the heat of your bodies intensified, merging into a whirlwind of burning sensations. One of your hands, trembling with excitement, clung firmly to the wrought iron railing, while your legs tensed involuntarily as Steve’s lips explored every nook of your intimacy. “Mhhm, right there, Stevie,” you whispered between gasping breaths, letting out a more intense moan as you felt the pressure of his mouth against your center of pleasure. The strength of your hands unconsciously squeezed his face between your thighs, plunging him even deeper into the vortex of your desire, while the essence of your excitement flooded his senses.

Steve’s grunts resonated in the space between your legs, causing his lips to vibrate slightly against your sensitive skin, sending waves of pleasure coursing through every fiber of your being. Every movement, every sigh, was a dance of shared ecstasy, leading you to the edge of the abyss of pleasure.

Moaning in response to every caress, every suction, you surrendered completely to the frenzy of the moment, feeling as if you were about to unleash heaven in an uncontrollable explosion of ecstasy.

A few seconds later, after a symphony of intense suctions and wet licks, you surrendered to the rush of pleasure and came in Steve’s mouth. He was kneeling in front of you as you leaned over him, your dripping pussy releasing your essence onto his eager lips. Steve welcomed your ecstasy with a smile radiating excitement, his eyes shining with shared passion, and his cock, of course, barely contained in his too-tight pants, scarcely visible but hinting at the unrestrained desire consuming him. Steve’s gaze, filled with satisfaction and lust, locked onto yours as he savored every drop of your essence as if it were the most exquisite nectar.

His lips, wet and eager, continued to explore your intimacy with a devotion that left you breathless, while his skilled tongue continued to provoke waves of pleasure that coursed through every fiber of your being.

You could feel the force of his desire pulsating against your skin, his eager hands seeking contact, craving more of you even in that moment of shared ecstasy. The sexual tension that had built up between you reached its peak, manifesting in the urgency of his movements and the desperate hunger of his lips against yours. But before you let him kiss you, still reeling, you gently pushed him away, looking him up and down with an expression of superiority, as you always did.

“Don’t think I’m gonna kiss you, screw you, or anything like that. I just wanted you to eat me out, nothing more. Don’t feel like doing anything else with you. Let your little girlfriend Nancy suck your dick. I’m out,” you said, adjusting your skirt, forgetting something but leaving as quickly as possible to avoid having to talk to him, as usual.

Little did you know, you had left your delicate lace thong there, forgotten alongside Steve, the masochist who was always lurking. Steve knew that you two no longer had the same connection as before, but that didn’t stop him from trying to get closer to you. This time, he decided to seize the opportunity, knowing he would never have the intimacy with you that he desired as in the old times.

Without wasting a moment, Steve picked up your thong soaked with your fluids and tucked it into the back pocket of his pants. With stealthy movements, he slinked towards the locker room bathrooms, with the sole intention of finding relief for his throbbing cock.

He sat cautiously on the toilet lid, closing the bathroom door with a firm twist of the key, thus ensuring his privacy. With a mix of palpable anxiety and desire, he prepared to indulge in solitary pleasure, with your image ever-present in his mind.

With trembling hands, he retrieved his wallet, a treasure he guarded jealously, and from it, he pulled out a photograph of you. In the image, you looked radiant, modeling one of his T-shirts, your delicate nipples barely outlined in the fabric. With a gaze fixed on your face, his fingers caressed the image with devotion, as if they could touch your skin through the paper.

In addition to the photo, he pulled out the thong you had previously forgotten, a garment that became a tangible symbol of your past encounters, as it had been a gift from you when you had been dating. Carefully, he wrapped his erection with the soft fabric, feeling the familiar texture and the echo of your presence in every fiber. The combination of the no longer so warm creamy fluid and the soft fabric triggered a wave of pleasure that immediately brought him to the brink of ecstasy. A slight moan escaped his lips as he surrendered to the frenzied rhythm of his own hand, immersing himself in a world of fantasies where only you occupied his mind.

“I’m sorry, Nancy…” he murmured with a choked voice, while his fingers explored the soft skin of his erection, sensitive and sore from the accumulated tension. His eyes were fixed on the photograph he held with reverence, your image shining before him.

Every detail of your face captivated him: your rosy, provocative lips; your pronounced eyelashes framing eyes full of mystery and seduction; your beautiful hair gracefully waving around your face. Everything about you delighted him, from the elegance of your gestures to the intensity of your gaze.

But despite his fascination, a feeling of resentment stirred within him. He hated how sometimes you could be so stubborn, so insensitive to his desires and needs. The tension between you grew with each encounter, fueled by your whims and his repressed frustration.

With a sigh laden with mixed emotions, he surrendered to solitary pleasure, each caress a blend of desire and desperation. Though he loved you madly, sometimes he wished you could understand what he felt, what he needed from you beyond appearances.

After reaching climax twice, his still labored breathing echoed in the silent locker room. A thin layer of sweat beaded his forehead, a testament to the intensity of his emotions released in those moments of solitary ecstasy. Small droplets of his essence escaped his body, lightly staining the locker room floor, marking the territory of his unrestrained passion.

With trembling hands, he adjusted his tight pants, still feeling the buzz of pleasure resonating through his body. The air was laden with the scent of desire, permeating the environment with the intensity of their intimate encounter.

With determination in each step, he headed towards his last class before lunch. Although his mind still buzzed with images of your face, his body was now infused with a sense of calm and satisfaction. He had released the accumulated tension, at least for a moment, and was ready to face the rest of the day with renewed energy.

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The rain pounded the pavement with a fury that seemed personal, each drop an accusation against the city asphalt. Amidst this storm, the Family Video store stood like a beacon for movie lovers, its flickering sign battling the darkness imposed by the whims of the weather.

Robin held the umbrella with a steady hand, protecting not only her own hair from the rain but also that of her companion in discussions and confidences, Steve. With his gaze fixed on the trunk of his car, Steve rummaged through forgotten tools and objects, desperately searching for the small lamp that would allow them to continue their work in the video store.

“How could you be into Kline’s chick, dude? She’s just as gross as her daddy, I don’t get it,” he said, his voice barely audible over the constant drumming of the rain. The question was not only a questioning of shared tastes but an echo of a deeper rivalry, one that extended beyond romantic preferences and touched the fiber of their friendship. “I still don’t get why you’re into the same girls as me, man,” he continued, his frustration growing with each word, as if the same drops falling from the sky fueled his discontent.

Robin, with a patience found only in those who have weathered countless storms, both meteorological and emotional, responded with a calm that contrasted with the agitation of the night. “I just have good taste, Steve.”

Finally, Steve’s fingers stumbled upon the object of his search. With a sigh of relief mingling with the dampness of the air, he grabbed the lamp and closed the trunk with a thud that resonated in the stillness of the night. Both were splattered with the treacherous drops that had accumulated their weight on top of the car, a small victory of the storm over their efforts. The dimness of the Family Video store enveloped Steve and Robin like a blanket, darkness interrupted only by the erratic flashes of lightning seeping through the windows. “Good taste? She was straight-up trouble, Rob,” he murmured, his voice echoing in the emptiness of the store. The shelves, normally full of life and color from the movie covers, now seemed threatening shadows in the darkness. “I went out with her, and I can tell you, it wasn’t a great experience, apart from the sex, of course,” he continued, his tone a mix of regret and disdain. As he closed the soaked umbrella, drops of water detached and joined the chorus of rain pounding outside. He placed the umbrella by the door, like a forgotten guardian, and shook his hair, trying to rid himself of the invading moisture. He pulled out a mini mirror, the surface reflecting a face marked by the tumultuous night. He checked his hair. With a sigh, he continued to the counter, where he deposited the small lamp, its light a promise of warmth in the cold that engulfed the place.

“You went out with that hottie?! I might start believing that whole thing about ugly dudes scoring the hottest girls…,” Robin joked, her laughter a flicker of light in the darkness, as ephemeral and bright as the lightning outside. She stepped aside, leaving space for Harrington, in a gesture of camaraderie, unable to give him a friendly punch on the arm.

The tension between Steve and Robin was palpable in the charged air of the Family Video store. “She wouldn’t even look twice at you… she’s super straight. I even think she was homophobic…” Harrington said, his voice tinged with a jealousy that seemed to drag shadows from the past, shadows of a high school era that both had left behind, or so they thought.

“Well, I’ll just turn her from phobic to homo, easy,” Robin retorted, her eyebrows raised in a playful challenge, a joke meant to lighten the mood but only served to bring Steve a flood of memories, flashbacks he’d rather keep buried.

“Ugh, don’t do that!” Steve complained, his patience wearing thin like the tape of an old VHS movie. Robin, feeling the weight of her friend’s irritation, let out an exasperated sigh.

“Well, I won’t breathe either if that bothers you too, for god’s sake…” she said, rolling her eyes in a theatrical expression of frustration before walking towards the back room.

Leaving he alone at the counter, the echo of her footsteps mingled with the buzz of burnt fuses and the murmur of rain against the roof. Steve stood there, in the dimness, his mind navigating the turbulent waters of his adolescence. He remembered you, with your fiery temper and defiant smile, a presence that had marked his youth and, despite the years and distance, still stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within him. It had been approximately four years since you went to Spain on exchange, four years that had done little to cool the memories Steve held of you. He didn’t want to admit it, but he missed your bad temper, and above all, that body of yours…

The days at the Family Video store passed with the slowness of a slow-motion movie, each moment stretching into infinity. Robin, increasingly immersed in Harrington’s past with that girl, couldn’t help but let the details surface in his mind. “Yes, I… did all that…” he confessed with a blush that didn’t need light to be perceived, speaking of secret encounters on the stairs, those moments stolen from time and curious eyes. “But please, I beg you not to tell Nancy! I’m trying to win her back but she doesn’t know anything about what happened when we were together…” he pleaded, his voice a whisper laden with urgency and fear. Robin’s expression, pale as the moon on a starless night, reflected the surprise and horror of realizing the presence looming behind them.

“Not know what?” asked a sweet voice, as familiar as the melody of a forgotten song. Nancy, with her friendly smile and a small wad of money in her hands, appeared like a figure from a dream, or perhaps a nightmare. “What? No, nothing!” he stammered, anxiety building up in his chest like clouds before a storm, desperately seeking Robin’s complicity but finding only the void of a situation slipping out of control.

The door of the store burst open with a bang, like the prelude to a dramatic act in a play. A girl, dressed in clothes where red and black stood out. Her tight leather pants, a torn red top, accompanied by a dark jacket showing signs of being well worn, culminating with the icing on the cake: a flamboyant, teased hair, typical of glam metal enthusiasts. She made her triumphant entrance. In her hands, a movie magazine, her finger marking a page like one points to a destination. “Hey, I changed my mind, I think I’d rather watch Satan’s Mistress, it has…” you began, but your voice trailed off the moment your eyes met Steve’s.

It was a gaze that crossed years of distance, a bridge laid over an abyss of time and memories. Your former partner in sex, passion, and toxic courtship.

The reunion was a whirlwind of emotions, a vortex that swept up the fragments of a past everyone had thought overcome.

Your voice echoed in the confined space of the video store, a reminder of its former sweetness now tinged with the roughness of tobacco. “Am I dreaming or is that you, Harrington?” The Viceroy hung on your lips, a stark contrast against the burgundy tone that adorned them. With a careless gesture, you dropped the magazine you held onto a shelf full of horror movie covers, a sanctuary for lovers of fear and tension. Your black heels struck the ground with determination, each step an announcement of your presence that filled the air with an almost musical cadence. You made your way to the counter, your imposing figure leaning against the collection of VHS and DVDs that decorated the place.

“Keith…” Steve’s voice was a murmur, his eyes scanning the woman standing before him. He wasn’t sure what to make of the change; the woman he knew had been replaced by someone new, someone who defied his understanding.

Robin, on the other hand, couldn’t hide her delight. The feminine arrogance that had characterized the girl in the past had pleased her, but this… this was something completely different. It was a transformation that invited both admiration and bewilderment. “Damn…” exclaimed Robin, not trying to conceal the surprise caused by your daring neckline.

The video store had become a stage for unexpected revelations. Steve, still recovering from the initial impact, found his voice to articulate a question that burned inside him. “W-When did you come back to town?!” His voice trembled, a reflection of the nerves that assaulted him as he evoked memories of a seemingly distant past.

“Not long ago,” you responded with a calmness that contrasted with Steve’s agitation. “My father was murdered two years ago, I don’t know if you remember. So now I’m here to spend the holidays at his house, here in Hawkins.” Each word was pronounced with a serenity that belied the tragedy of your story, while the cigarette smoke curled in the air, as if trying to escape the reality of your words. Your clothing, tight and revealing, seemed like a second skin, outlining every contour of your body with exaggerated precision. Robin, from her corner behind the counter, couldn’t look away. To her, you were like a celestial vision, a fallen rocker angel who had returned with stories of distant worlds.

Nancy had become a mere shadow in those moments. Her original intention had been simple: to rent a movie at Steve’s store, a perfect excuse to spend time with you, now that you had returned. But reality had twisted in a way she couldn’t comprehend. She understood nothing.

Harrington, with a nod of acknowledgment, found himself in a sea of uncertainty, the scene before him causing a growing discomfort. “I’m sorry…” he murmured, looking away towards the ground, a gesture revealing his unease.

“Don’t worry about it, these things happen,” you responded with a voice dripping with unwavering calmness, as you flicked the ash from your cigarette into the nearby ashtray. The act led you to approach the blonde girl, whose beauty was as evident as her friendly smile. Returning the smile, you noticed a glint of something undefinable in her eyes, as if you had ignited a spark of emotion within her. “Well, I guess I’ll head back to the car,” you announced, turning with an elegance that defied the gravity of your heels. “Grab whatever movie you want, Nans,” you said with a carefree tone, exiting the store and leaving behind a trail of perfume and mystery. Your steps were confident and graceful, each movement a testament to your ability to walk on those pillars of style as easily as others would walk in sneakers.

Nancy, observing the scene, felt the tension that had taken hold of Steve, his body rigid as if on the verge of breaking. Determined to ease the atmosphere, she approached him with a timid question. “Uh… do you have the movie she mentioned?” Her voice was a whisper, almost drowned out by uncertainty.

He, trapped in his own confusion, couldn’t recall the mentioned title, but Robin, with her ever-sharp attention, jumped to the rescue. “Satan’s Mistress! Yes! A horror movie from a few years back, based on a book, pretty good actually.” Her enthusiasm was palpable, her hands tracing arcs in the air as she spoke and moved with a clear purpose. She found the movie quickly, placed it on the counter, and scanned it, announcing the price to Nancy, who paid with a handful of small bills she held firmly.

Nancy was ready to bid farewell, to leave behind the video store and its memories, but something stopped her. She turned abruptly, as if a sudden idea had crossed her mind, a missing piece in the afternoon’s puzzle that needed to be placed.

Nancy’s proposal resonated in the video store like an invitation to leave the past behind and dive into new adventures. “She’s having a welcome party at her place, so she’ll invite old classmates and all that. Do you want to come?” Her voice was a mixture of enthusiasm and nervousness, aware of the surprise her announcement could cause.

Harrington, still entangled in the threads of the past, was about to decline the offer, his mouth opening to formulate an excuse. But before he could articulate a single word, Robin intervened with an energy that seemed to overflow the confines of the store. “Yes!” she exclaimed, her affirmation so loud and clear it seemed to fill every corner, even suspending the constant buzz of the fluorescent lights.

Surprised by Robin’s vehemence, Nancy gave an awkward smile, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue reflecting her embarrassment. Quickly, she shared the address and time of the party, words that hung in the air before she turned around and walked out of the video store, leaving behind a silence that draped over the place like a blanket.

The silence that had fallen over the video store was so thick it could almost be cut with a knife. The shelves filled with movies seemed to hold their breath, waiting for the next act of this unexpected human comedy.

“Steve?” Robin’s voice pierced the silence, her casual tone breaking the stillness like a stone dropped into a calm pond.

He, still lost in his thoughts, barely uttered a sound resembling an assent. “Mhhm?”

“I think I’ve wet myself,” declared Robin, with a calmness that contrasted with the nature of her announcement.

Steve couldn’t help but react. “Damn, Robin, you’re gross,” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of disgust and humor. It was an accusation spoken with the lightness of camaraderie, an acknowledgment of the peculiarity of their friendship that could withstand even the strangest of revelations.

…

The screech of Steve’s car brakes blended with the music emanating from the mayor’s old mansion, an echo of youth reverberating within the walls of a building now housing those who, just two years ago, were teenagers but were now venturing into adulthood. The mansion, with its flickering lights and aura of nostalgia, was a beacon for memories of a simpler time.

Robin, with the grace of someone who had shared countless adventures in that passenger seat, lowered the car mirror and examined her reflection. Her eyes lingered on every detail of her face, ensuring her makeup would withstand the night ahead. Her hair, tousled and free as always, framed her face with a naturalness that needed no adornment. The orange T-shirt she wore, snug and adorned with yellow stripes, seemed to capture the last light of dusk. The flared jeans, swaying with each movement, and the borrowed jacket, a temporary gift from her friend, completed her outfit with a harmony of colors that spoke of her carefree and vibrant personality.

Meanwhile, Steve remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the house looming before them. The mansion brought back memories of clandestine nights, shared laughter, and whispered secrets while climbing the ivy that reached to the window of their old room. Those memories enveloped him like a cool breeze, taking him back to a time when everything seemed possible. Dressed with the same nonchalance with which he faced life, he had made no effort to dress up. His clothes, casual yet stylish in their own way, reflected his attitude towards life: simple, straightforward, and uncomplicated.

The music from the mansion grew louder, as if calling the guests to immerse themselves in the celebration. Robin, giving one last glance at the mirror, smiled satisfied and closed the compartment with a click. Steve sighed, a sigh that contained years of stories and lived moments, and with a complicit smile towards Robin, stepped out of the car.

The song filling the air was a lesser-known classic, “Turn Up The Radio” by Autograph. With its energetic and catchy rhythm, the electric guitar resonated with chords that invited leaving troubles behind and plunging into the euphoria of the moment. The singer’s voice, with its raspy and passionate tone, sang about freedom and youthful rebellion, a perfect anthem for those seeking escape in music. In the front yard, the scene was a living collage of the era. Groups of friends gathered around an Ford Mustang, its doors wide open to share the music emanating from the stereo. Laughter and conversations mingled with the sound of beer cans being opened and the sizzle of a nearby grill where burgers and sausages were being cooked.

The blonde, with her eyes wide open, couldn’t take her eyes off those strangers who seemed to have stepped out of a metal music video. Her fascination with glam style had been born just hours before when she saw you enter the store with that star aura. Curiosity had seized her, and now, seeing you at the door of the house, that curiosity turned into admiration.

You and Nancy were immersed in a conversation, but your sixth sense for important arrivals made you look up just in time to see that duo approaching. An eyebrow raised in a gesture that mixed surprise and interest. Your hair, cut in layers with a precision that only the best stylists could achieve, cascaded around your face, each strand contributing to the impressive volume that seemed to defy gravity. Robin was speechless, her mouth slightly open in a mute expression of amazement. The moonlight reflected on your leopard-print pants, making the wild patterns come to life. The corset you wore, snug and enhancing your figure, was the centerpiece of an outfit that screamed confidence and rebellion. The girl was captivated, not only by your physical appearance but also by the energy you exuded, a mix of mystery and magnetism that irresistibly attracted her. Harrington, on the other hand, seemed overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. With a sudden decision, he chose to withdraw from the scene, seeking refuge among familiar faces. He headed towards a group of former basketball teammates, greeting them with back slaps and knowing smiles. Meanwhile, Robin remained paralyzed, watching you with a mixture of admiration and a new awakening of her own style.

You watched as Steve walked away, leaving the girl alone in the midst of the party bustle. With a carefree gesture, you took the Marlboro resting behind your ear, which sported metallic hoops as witnesses to past rebellions. You lit the cigarette with the flame of a Zippo that gleamed under the starlight and began walking along the stone path, a path that evoked childhood memories and that your father had ordered to be built years ago when the mansion was still a home and not a museum of memories.

“How’s it going, blondie? Do I know you?” you asked with a confidence that seemed to emanate from your very essence, a certainty that charged the air with electricity. Robin, with her golden hair reflecting the neon lights, stood paralyzed, feeling a shiver running down her spine and erasing any other thought from her mind. The orange-haired girl who had captured her attention throughout her time in the band vanished from her consciousness, and even her own name seemed like a mystery.

“Uh-uh, I…” Robin stammered, struggling to find the words as a playful smile played on your lips, noticing her nervousness. You raised an eyebrow, a perfect arch that added emphasis to your playful expression at her discomfiture.

“I think we’ve never met…” you interrupted her attempt to reply, cutting through the air with a certainty that left little room for doubt. “I’d never forget a face like yours,” you concluded, your words hanging in the space between the two of you like a promise or a premonition. You looked her up and down, a scan that was not so much an evaluation as it was a recognition of her presence, her uniqueness. You exhaled the cigarette smoke, and it wafted through the air before dissipating in front of her face, an ephemeral veil that seemed to separate and yet unite two worlds.

Buckley blinked, an instinctive reaction to the smoke wafting through the air, and coughed slightly, a momentary interruption that brought her back to the present. A blush spread across her cheeks, a rosy hue that highlighted the concealed freckles and her eyes, which maintained an innate sweetness. “No, we’ve never met, or at least I don’t think so…” she said with a trembling voice, avoiding your gaze because she knew that if her eyes met yours, the words would be lost in the abyss of her nervousness.

You, with a smile that revealed amusement at her discomfiture, furrowed your brow and took another drag of your Marlboro, keeping the conversation going with an ease that contrasted with her uncertainty. “Uh? How’s that?” you asked amidst laughter, scanning the girl with a gaze that seemed to see beyond the surface.

“Well, we went to high school together, but you’re older than me…” Robin explained, her voice gaining a bit more firmness as the words flowed. You raised an eyebrow, a gesture that denoted both surprise and genuine interest.

“You’re still in high school?” you inquired, exhaling a new cloud of smoke that spiraled into the night sky.

Robin nodded, her gesture accompanied by a shadow of embarrassment at the age difference, and a palpable frustration at not being able to hold a normal conversation, to be that normal girl she wished to be at that moment. “Well, you don’t seem like it… you look great,” you said with a sideways smile, an expression that carried a mixture of compliment and challenge. You looked her up and down, not with judgment, but with an appreciation that made her feel seen, truly seen. You crossed your arms, and the corset you wore emitted a soft creak, a sound that seemed to be in tune with the tension and expectation hanging in the air. Robin, still recovering from the effect of the smoke and the surprise of your approach, found herself in a crossroads of emotions, between shyness and the excitement of being in the spotlight of your attention. She responded to the compliment with a charming shyness, her cheeks taking on a rosier hue as she tilted her head, allowing her short hair to brush against her skin. With a gentle and considerate gesture, you lifted her chin, encouraging her to meet your gaze. “You seem down… want a drink, …?” The pause hung in the air, an invitation for her to introduce herself.

With a frantic nod, as if just understanding the hint, she hurried to respond. “Robin. Robin Buckley. And yes, I’d love a drink. I’d love to,” she said with a voice that almost stumbled over itself, clearing her throat slightly to maintain composure. Your smile widened, and with a conspiratorial gesture, you took hold of your ex-boyfriend’s jacket sleeve and led Robin towards the house. As you walked, you shared your name and asked questions about her life, showing genuine interest in her and her story.

You made two strong drinks and led her to your backyard, a quiet and empty space that would soon be filled with your laughter and conversation. As the night wore on, and after several short trips in search of more alcohol, you both found yourselves laughing and teasing with a familiarity of old friends, which had never existed between you. “I would never have thought of that! She really does look like a Muppet,” you exclaimed, unable to contain the emphasis that alcohol liberated, sharing a genuine laugh with Robin.

The blonde’s confession hung in the night air, a revelation as unexpected as it was sincere. “I still don’t understand how I ended up liking her,” she said, the words escaping her lips before she could catch them and return them to the refuge of her thoughts. It was a moment of vulnerability, a window to her soul that she rarely allowed herself to show. Uncertainty tinged her confession; concern about revealing too much, about crossing an invisible line that could change the dynamics of the night. She didn’t want to talk about her sexuality, not because she was ashamed, but because she didn’t know yours and feared the possibility of making you uncomfortable.

Your response to Robin’s revelation was a hearty laugh, followed by a joke that added lightness to the moment. “I get you, I hooked up with one who looked like Sloth from The Goonies,” you said amidst laughter, referring to the iconic character from the adventure movie, released a year earlier.

Robin, surprised by your comment and the revelation it implied, couldn’t help but burst into explosive laughter, causing her to expel alcohol through her nose. Surprise and hilarity mingled in her reaction; she didn’t expect you to share her inclination, didn’t expect to find someone who resonated with her own experience. Anxiety and nervousness invaded her, a mix of excitement and fear at the possibility of not being alone in her feelings. The night had brought an unexpected chill, and the incident with the drink had left Robin with a wet shirt, making her tremble slightly. Noticing her discomfort, you offered a practical and kind solution. “Come on, I’ll take you to my room to change,” you suggested, guiding her through the party and into the warmth of the house.

Robin entered the room, her gaze roaming over the personal space you now shared. She sits onto the leopard-print quilt, her fingers sliding over the synthetic fur, soft and welcoming to the touch. The music, a constant and rhythmic pulse, filtered through the door, marking the beat of the night.

Meanwhile, you were immersed in the search for the perfect garment in your closet, a collection that spoke of past stories and concerts. You hummed the melody that seeped into the room, the influence of alcohol dissipating enough to allow you to focus on the task. You were looking for something that captured the essence of your new friendship without being overly flashy. Upon returning to the room, you found Robin absorbed in the photographs adorning your walls, images capturing moments of a previous version of yourself, one that contrasted with the person you were now. “What? Surprised? I looked better before, I know,” you said with a playful and ironic tone, depositing a Metallica T-shirt on the quilt and placing a hairdryer next to it, a silent invitation for Robin to dry her wet shirt.

“What?! No!” exclaimed Robin, turning with a mixture of surprise and embarrassment at being caught in her contemplation. “No, not at all… before you were very pretty, but I think… now you are more,” she articulated with difficulty, the words stumbling over each other as she clung to the furniture, seeking physical support for her emotional turmoil. The sincerity of her comment caught you by surprise, raising your eyebrows in astonishment. A smile spread across your lips, and an unfamiliar sensation, akin to butterflies fluttering in your stomach, emerged. It was an emotion you hadn’t experienced in a long time, a recognition that resonated with a part of you that had remained silent.

“Then, do you think I’m pretty, or straight up hot?” you ask, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you take measured steps toward Robin. The distance between you closes with each deliberate move, and though the question hangs lightly in the air, there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in your eyes.

Robin nods slowly, her gaze drifting from your eyes to linger on your lips, as if trying to read every nuance of your expression. “Well, let me tell you, I feel the same about you…” you say, your voice caressing each word, now just inches away from her. The tension between you is palpable, like a spark on the verge of igniting a flame. The air is charged with an electricity only proximity can generate. You can feel the warmth emanating from Robin, and every breath you take is infused with her essence. There’s an unspoken promise hanging in the air, an invitation to cross the invisible line that still separates your worlds.

“The same?” Robin asks, her tone a whisper barely daring to break the silence. Her hand rises, trembling yet determined, and brushes against the fabric of your rough corset as if it were the most delicate thing in the world. “You’re much more than pretty,” she confesses, and there’s weight in her words, a depth that goes beyond mere attraction.

“And how can I be sure you’re not lying to me? What if you’re just saying it to make me feel good?” you tease, puffing your cheeks slightly in a feigned pout that fails to hide the playful sparkle in your eyes. Robin’s hand, which had found its place over the curve of your corset, pauses for a moment, as if your words had planted the seed of doubt. But the smile playing on her lips reveals she’s enjoying the game as much as you are. Through the thick fabric, Robin’s fingers feel the steady rhythm of your breathing, each inhalation and exhalation like a wave crashing against the shore. The closeness between you diminishes even more, and though neither of you mentions it, both can feel the electricity of the moment, as tangible as the fabric between your fingers.

“Lie to you?” Robin replies, her voice low and filled with a warmth that seems to envelop you. “There’s no need for lies when the truth is more enticing.” The confidence in her tone is enough to dispel any shadow of uncertainty, and the way her thumb gently caresses the pattern of the corset is a promise in itself.

Involuntarily, or perhaps not so much, you find yourselves even closer, the distance between you measured not in centimeters, but in heartbeats.

“Why don’t you show me then?” The question leaves your lips with a challenging tone, but your eyes shine with a mix of anticipation and amusement. She, trapped between your body and the furniture, seems to search your gaze for some sign to guide her. The proximity is inevitable, and the tension that had been building now seems on the verge of overflowing.

The space feels charged, each shared breath adding more intensity to the moment. You can feel the slight tremor in Robin’s hands, a vibration that speaks of nervousness and anticipation. The room has been reduced to this small stage where only the two of you exist, and the silence that surrounds you is a silent witness to the connection being forged.

Robin swallows, her gesture almost imperceptible, but you catch it clearly. “Show you, huh?” she says with a voice that tries to sound confident but betrays a trace of vulnerability. “I don’t need words for that.” And with a movement that breaks the last barrier of distance, her lips seek yours in a kiss that promises to be as revealing as the whispered confessions. The contact is soft at first, almost tentative, but soon gains confidence and depth.

Feeling her lips against yours, a spark of excitement ignites within you, and a victorious smile spreads across your face, illuminating the moment with a sense of silent triumph. Each brush of her lips against yours is like a perfectly tuned melody, a symphony of sensations that completely envelops you. With each kiss, you eagerly explore the softness of her lips, savoring the sweetness of the shared moment. As it continues, her hands leave the furniture and find a new refuge on your bare shoulders, conveying a sense of connection and complicity that fills you with joy. This gesture encourages you to deepen the kiss, to fully surrender to the torrent of emotions flowing between you. With instinctive impulse, your hands grip her waist firmly, feeling the firmness of her body beneath your fingers, gently caressing her, lightly scratching with your nails. Determined to explore further, you smoothly slide your hands inside her jacket, where the still damp shirt rests, like a tangible echo of the moments shared that night. The cool, damp texture of the fabric beneath your fingers reminds you of the play of contrasts of the evening, where the warmth of the encounters mingled with the freshness of the unexpected.

As the intensity of the kiss grew, your senses sharpened, capturing every detail of the experience. You could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with yours, creating a dance of sensations that enveloped you completely. When her tongue joined yours in a playful and fiery exchange, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving you only with the rapid pulse of shared passion. The grip on her waist tightened, as if you wanted to merge your bodies in an intimate, fiery embrace. As you pressed your pelvis against hers, you felt the electricity sparking between you, a current of desire flowing freely in the anticipation-filled air. With each touch, each contact, the tension between you reached new heights, leaving Robin trapped between your body and the furniture, with no escape possible. Her soft moans mixed with your own in a symphony of pleasure, every whisper, every sigh fueling the whirlwind of emotions consuming you both. Your hands eagerly explored every inch of her back, every curve, every contour, while their fingers clung to you with an urgency reflecting the unrestrained desire burning within them.

As Robin’s pleasure-filled moans echoed in the room, your own desire intensified, fueled by the sight of them writhing under your control. The need to feel her weight on the furniture consumed you, driving you to lift she and place her where you desired. With determination, you grasped one of her thighs firmly, letting your nails sink slightly into her skin as you lifted her body with one hand, making space on the furniture with the other.

With a swift gesture, you cleared the furniture of all figures and objects adorning its surface, leaving a clear space for Robin. When you finally seated her there, a sigh escaped her parted lips, momentarily interrupting the desire-laden silence enveloping you both. Breaking away from the fierce kiss, a strand of saliva stretched between your lips, a testament to the fervor with which you had surrendered to each other.

As your eyes settled just at the level of her breasts, obscured by the loose fabric of her shirt, your imagination soared, visualizing every curve and contour hidden beneath the cloth. Biting your lower lip eagerly, you seized their buttocks firmly, drawing her body towards yours with an irresistible force. A faint cry escaped Robin’s lips at the unexpected surge of passion, but her hands soon caressed your neck tenderly, desperately seeking your lips.

Playfully, you moved out of her reach, enjoying the seductive game unfolding between you both. Until, finally, you succumbed to the overwhelming desire and united your lips in a kiss even hotter and wetter than before. The taste of her mouth, the sensation of her breath mingling with yours, created a symphony of pleasure that enveloped you completely, making you forget everything but the warmth of the moment shared between you both.

Robin, determined to intensify the moment, decided to encircle you with her slender thighs, drawing your body closer to hers in a gesture filled with desire. You could feel the warmth emanating from her groin, colliding against your corset and eliciting a playful giggle that escaped between your lips, briefly separating you from the kiss. At that moment, Robin noticed the change in your expression and felt momentarily bewildered, thinking she might have done something wrong. She looked at you with a mixture of puzzlement and concern, but before she could articulate a word, you broke the tension with a daring joke.

“I think your shirt isn’t the only thing that got wet…” you said with a mischievous smile, quickly changing Robin’s expression. Without averting your gaze from hers, you slid two of your fingers down her lower thigh with a provocative gentleness, sending a shiver of anticipation through her body. The sexual tension between you intensified, turning the air around you into an electrifying blend of desire and playfulness. “See?” You decided to intensify the game and explore Robin’s groin more deeply, guided by the heat emanating from that area. With bold determination, you slid your fingers downward, finding the place where the heat was most intense. You plunged your fingers into the damp denim fabric, feeling the hot texture and the moisture seeping through it. You were mere millimeters away from her wet pussy, separated only by two thin layers of fabric that heightened the tension and anticipation between you.

For Robin, this experience was almost unfamiliar; she had experienced something similar only once before, so she felt like an inexperienced person in the middle of an ocean of unfamiliar sensations. She didn’t know how to react or what to do, but her breathing became more irregular, and her heart pounded with strength, reflecting the intensity of the moment and her own emerging desire. She opted to tightly close her eyes and squeeze your shoulder, which you found endearing.

Your eyes slid over every nuance of her expression, capturing each change in her features with surgical precision. Every time you increased the pressure of your caresses, you could feel Robin’s body responding with slight tremors, unmistakable signs of her excitement and craving for more. With each calculated touch, your fingers explored the unknown terrain of Robin’s groin, while your lips found refuge on the soft skin of her neck. The atmosphere was charged with palpable tension, as if every sigh were an echo of the passion growing between you.

Meanwhile, your other hand ventured over the smooth contour of her opposite thigh, tracing comforting circles on her sensitive skin. The combination of sensations immersed her in a whirlwind of pleasure and anticipation, caught between the desire to surrender completely and the caution of the unknown.

The slight spasms emanating from her body were like small navigation signals, indicators that you were touching the right places, the access points to her ecstasy. Each brush against that sensitive button was like striking a key on a piano, unleashing a symphony of moans and sighs that resonated in the room like a melody of shared pleasure.

As your lips explored every inch of her neck with devotion, your hands continued their captivating dance over the contours of her thighs, delicately caressing every curve and angle. Robin was completely tense, her body vibrating with anticipation and repressed desire, but her responses were a whispering echo of her longing for more. With a slightly husky voice, you ventured to ask her if she was enjoying it, letting the whisper of your words mingle with the whisper of silk in the air. Her nod was barely perceptible, drowned out by the tension consuming her completely. So, you decided to tempt her even more, offering her the promise of even greater pleasure if she allowed you. Between licks and kisses on her neck, you suggestively slid your words, letting each syllable resonate in the desire-filled air.

With a mischievous smile dancing on your lips, you relished the effect of your words on Robin, observing how her desperation was reflected in every gesture and tremor of her body. You tilted your head slightly, allowing your warm, moist breath to caress her ear, leaving a tantalizing trail of saliva with your hot, eager tongue.

Amidst warm giggles, you ventured to ask a question laden with anticipation and desire, whispering it into her ear with irresistible playfulness. “Have you ever been eaten out?” The tension in the air was palpable, and everything about Robin seemed to bristle at your words. It was evident that this was a new experience for her, an unknown territory that plunged her into a mixture of anxiety and excitement. With a barely perceptible nod of her head, she slowly shook her head, swallowing hard at the prospect of the unknown. In response to her answer, you raised an eyebrow, savoring the anticipation of what was to come. With a suggestive gesture, you licked your lips, fixing your gaze on hers with an intensity that was almost palpable. “Well, then I feel lucky to be the first…” you teased softly, letting out a playful giggle as you lowered your body. You found yourself on your knees in front of her, your face at the level of her crotch still covered by her flared pants. However, the moisture seeped through the denim fabric, revealing the intensity of the desire that consumed her. “Wow… I’ve never seen any girl get this wet for me…” you complimented with a smile, as you began to unbutton the buttons holding her pants, slowly lowering them with your gaze locked on hers.

She slowly raised her hips towards you, making the process easier with a trembling gesture of anticipation and effort.

You tossed Robin’s jeans somewhere in the room, leaving her standing before you in her underwear. She covered herself shyly, lightly squeezing her thighs as she avoided your direct gaze. A silly giggle escaped your lips when you noticed the Care Bears design on her panties, which didn’t go unnoticed by Robin. She felt embarrassed, and you could clearly perceive it in her expression. To reassure her, you emphasized that it was just a joke, trying to lighten the awkward moment and make her feel more comfortable with herself. With a determined yet gentle movement, you carefully parted Robin’s thighs, revealing her panties completely soaked. Every inch of fabric was saturated with moisture, from the waistband to the elastic on the legs. The transparency of the fabric exposed her intimacy, allowing you to see directly her pussy. The inner thighs were damp, and the core of the panties was a mixture of excitement and nervousness, creating an intimate scene charged with anticipation. Although Robin felt vulnerable in that moment, her trust in you was also evident, allowing you to access such a private place of her being. With a soft sigh, you moistened your lips before bringing them closer to her underwear, placing delicate and deep kisses on the soaked fabric. Each kiss elicited louder moans from Robin, whose breathing became irregular as her thighs lightly clenched against your face. You could feel the frantic beat of her heart resonating in the air, as if it were vibrating right down there. With a mischievous smile on your lips, you decided to give a playful lick through her panties, tasting the salty flavor of her excitement on your tongue. You looked up and met Robin’s eyes, whose expression mixed desperation and anticipation. One hand impatiently pushed her hair aside, while the other grasped her right thigh, unsure of what to do with it in that moment of intensity. The tension in the air was palpable, and you could see how her cheeks were slightly flushed with the embarrassment and excitement that engulfed her. With a determined movement, you pushed her panties aside, revealing her wet and eager pussy to your caresses. You began by softly licking her outer lips, enjoying the salty taste of her excitement as you prepared for the task ahead. You could feel the hand resting on her thigh inching closer to your hair, seeking something to hold onto to face the whirlwind of sensations that was about to come. You responded with a smile, ready to give Robin the pleasure she so eagerly craved. When you finally connected your mouth with her pussy, the deep moan that escaped the blonde’s lips resonated in the room. Your first lick was intense, exploring every corner of her sex with a fervor that left no doubt about your desire to satisfy her. Her hand, now gripping your hair, pressed you against her crotch, urging you to continue.

With closed eyes, you surrendered completely to the act, licking fiercely as if you were famished for her. Every encounter of your lips with her pleasure button caused a shiver through her body, accompanied by moans that echoed in the air and fueled your own excitement. You devoted yourself to playing with her, alternating between soft licks and delicate suctions, exploring every fold and crevice of her intimacy with a devotion that knew no bounds.

Robin moaned your name desperately as you devoted yourself to fulfilling each of her desires. With every skillful movement of your tongue, you took her beyond the limits of pleasure, bringing her closer to ecstasy with a mastery that only the deepest desire could bestow. You could feel her on the brink of orgasm, her body trembling with the anticipation of the impending release.

When she finally reached that climax, it was with a burst of pleasure that left her breathless, clinging tightly to your hair and pressing your face against her sex in a desperate embrace. Her confidence grew with each passing second, surrendering completely to pleasure and seeking to satisfy her own needs with a passion that left you breathless.

Your face was soaked with her fluids, every inch of your skin covered by the testimony of her pleasure. The sensation of her essence dripping down your skin added a new level of intensity to the experience, fueling the fire burning within you.

When you pulled away from her pussy after her orgasm, you looked at her with a passion that overflowed all known limits. You were more excited than ever, driven by the desire to satisfy your own needs and to push her to the limit once again.

You wiped your face with your arm and guided her to your bed with an impulse you couldn’t contain. With determination, you positioned yourself on top of her, ready to continue exploring the pleasures that only the encounter between two eager bodies could offer.

As you freed yourself from the garment covering your lower part, you revealed a leopard lace thong that immediately caught Robin’s attention. Her gaze lingered on the revelation of your lingerie, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and fascination. The lack of words from Robin was evident, and you could feel the tension in the air as she processed the situation.

For her, this territory was completely new. She had never experienced anything beyond kisses and hugs, and her sexual education was limited to what she had seen and heard through occasional conversations with friends or what she had heard on television. The lack of practical experience and exposure to explicit material, such as magazines or porn videos, left her without a clear frame of reference to understand what was happening in that moment.

Faced with her confusion, you decided to take the lead, gently guiding her with your actions and words, creating a safe space where she could explore and discover new sensations without fear or pressure. Your intention was to make her feel comfortable and secure in this new territory, and your understanding and affectionate attitude reflected that desire.

With a compassionate smile on your lips, you made an effort to explain the situation clearly and calmly, aware of Robin’s inexperience in this unknown area. The conversation flowed naturally, despite the nerves present in the atmosphere.

Upon hearing your proposal, Robin showed curiosity mixed with a hint of disbelief, which made you chuckle. Her innocent questions reflected her unfamiliarity with the intimate world and made you smile at her candor.

With patience, you assured her that what they were about to do was pleasurable for both, despite the lack of a traditional element. The absence of a “cock” was not an obstacle, but rather an advantage in this scenario, as you pointed out with a mischievous smile as you removed the thong, revealing your own intimacy, which, although not as soaked as Robin’s, throbbed with anticipation.

You guided Robin gently, indicating how to position herself to carry out this new experience. Although she was initially bewildered, she trusted you and followed your instructions, letting herself be carried away by curiosity and the excitement of the moment.

When your soaked sexes brushed against each other, sending a shiver through her entire body, Robin experienced a wave of new and exciting sensations. The friction between your bodies caused an involuntary spasm in her hips, and she couldn’t resist the temptation to move in search of more pleasure. With each movement, she satisfied your need for stimulation, creating a symphony of shared pleasure that enveloped both of you in mutual ecstasy.

With a palpable urgency, you surrendered to the ecstasy of the moment, rubbing your sex against Robin’s with unrestrained passion. The need for mutual satisfaction drove your movements as you firmly grasped her thigh to keep her in place, ensuring that she could delight in this experience as much as you. Each strategic brush hit precisely the spot that unleashed waves of pleasure in Robin, bringing her to the brink of ecstasy time and time again. Shared moans and lascivious sounds filled the room, mingling with the shared moisture that flooded the air. The intensity of the moment prompted you to change position, placing yourself on top of Robin with the skill of years of experience. With fluid and precise movements, you moved over her pussy with a mastery that only desire and mutual connection could bestow.

As you shifted, Robin’s shirt gradually rode up, revealing her left breast swaying to the rhythm of your synchronized movements. Every movement was a dance of unbridled passion, as her golden hair cascaded over her face and onto the bed, adding a touch of sensuality to the scene. Together, you created a symphony of ecstasy and shared pleasure that enveloped you both in a bubble of happiness and satisfaction.

With each hip movement, the accumulated tension reached its peak until finally, in an explosion of shared ecstasy, you reached climax together. You might have taken a few seconds longer to reach the peak, but the synchrony of your orgasms was perfect, causing spasms and tremors in your intertwined bodies.

“Mhhmm… yes…” A torrent of overwhelming sensations engulfed you, plunging you into an ocean of pleasure and mutual satisfaction. Every muscle tensed and relaxed in harmony with the other, while moans of pleasure filled the room. It was as if time stood still in that moment of shared ecstasy, leaving only the whisper of your ragged breaths and the frenetic beating of your hearts.

After reaching climax, your bodies slowly relaxed, enveloped in a feeling of peace and fulfillment. The intimate connection you had shared left you with a sense of deep satisfaction, strengthening the bond between you and creating unforgettable memories of that unique and exciting experience.

After the shared climax, a cry of excitement escaped your lips, breaking the ecstasy of the moment and separating you from the mess you had caused. “Fuck!” Turning away from Robin, you lit a cigarette with a careless gesture, while smoke curled in the passion-filled air. “You should go with Steve, I’m off for a beer,” you said with the cigarette between your lips, not bothering to search for your underwear, just covering yourself with a skirt you found lying around.

Robin, exhausted and confused, didn’t know what to do as you walked away. She collapsed onto the bed, her body still vibrating with the intensity of the encounter, but her mind flooded with unanswered questions. Nearly 40 minutes later, Steve’s knocks echoed in the hallway, searching for Robin. “Robin?” his voice echoed from afar, opening and closing doors in his frantic search. Steve feared the worst as he approached the last remaining door: yours. Although he had never entered through that door before, always preferring the window, this time he fervently hoped that Robin wouldn’t be there.

“Robin!” he called out loudly, rousing her from her stupor. Steve opened the door with determination, only to be met with the shocking scene of his friend hastily getting dressed, shouting and closing her eyes with a guilty expression.

“Damn it, Robin, seriously?!” his voice was filled with frustration and concern as he watched the chaos before him, not fully understanding what he had just witnessed.

[col-e7]

do you have any lava headcanons

I had too many of them and surely will have more later :")

• Kai does Cole's eyeliner since he literally can't do it

• Kai always cooks cakes or smt Cole loves when he's sad and comforts him by hugging him, being really caring and to try to make him smile and laugh

• Cole plays love songs to Kai with his guitar (bcz i have the hc he's born to play music in general) and make him playlists, he even paid them Spotify Duo

• They go to the gym together at least twice a week, if not more

• They have a night ritual for saturdays evenings : play videos games, watching movies, while eating pizzas or stuff like that until 5am and at some moment making out randomly

• their fav languages is physical touch

• They have a skincare routine together, for mornings and evenings

• Kai is a really good listener but when Cole talks him, he literally remembers almost every sentences word by word

• Kai posts pictures and videos about them on his socials and Cole just make a BIG highlight on instagram full of love quotes with songs named k ♡

• They both are cats persons and will get two kittens, one black and grey and one orange and white

• Skylor and Kai are "bi and lesbian besties" and so people always think they're a couple, making Cole either extremely jealous or die of laugh, there no in between

• Cole will propose to Kai either at Christmas or on new year's day

• He will take it 3 months to do that, after 3 months of Jay and Nya give him advices and support

• Cole gives to Kai rocks he finds cute and Kai keeps them in a special box and look at them when he miss him

• Kai gives to Cole some stuff like little doodles he did even tho it's clearly not a piece of art or just things he likes or thinks Cole will likes them

• Cole is definitely the top

• They go shopping with Skylor sometimes (she's their lesbian daugther/protector)

• Kai always helps Cole with his hair since one day, when he decide to dye it and Kai did it with with him and it turned unexpectedly stunning

• They will adopt two kids when they got older

• when they told the others that they were together, Nya told them both not to hurt the other or she will have to break both of their legs

That's it for now ! Bye byeee ^^

[the-writing-mobster]

were there any fic ideas you never ended up writing that you regret not doing?

also, do you have any other undertale ships? {:

Ah! Thank you for the ask dear heart! Let's see...

Of course I have fics that are still deep in my drafts, and I also have a few unfinished fics currently published ON Ao3.

I don't really regret not publishing certain fics because it's not really a matter of if more than it is a matter of when. A few of these old ideas just need way more fleshing out and just aren't ready for the limelight.

And that "not if but when" mindset is carried over to my unfinished fics as well, like Baby Face and YWIW.

They'll eventually be completed. (Although tbh, I'm not so sure about ywiw now, may have to go and really take a good long look at that one and the goals I want to achieve with it. For YWIW, I guess I regret some of the choices I made with Frisk's character arc. Like I accidentally walked back on things that I shouldn't have. Sequels are hard, y'all.)

—

Now for my other UT ships? Hmmmm...

I'm gonna come out the gate swinging and say that I, first and foremost do not ship Asgore and Toriel. I think their dynamic is more interesting as a divorced couple. Boom. That'll stir the pot some.

(I have a lot of weird UT ships tbh)

Now, moving on to what I actually ship:

Asriel x Papyrus / Papsriel / Boneblossom

This stems more from how I wrote their dynamic in wdyw part 4 + ywiw. See, when Frisk and Sans are off doing hard main character work, Papyrus and Asriel were alone together a lot, working through both of their collective daddy issues together (their fathers were big ole villains and they were consoling each other about their relationships with their fathers, it was actually very sweet) Ergo, I began to ship.

But also, if you look at the game, there are instances of Asriel and Papyrus befriending, and Asriel manipulating him, or growing fond of Papyrus in his own way as Flowey. Yeah there's the problem of "well technically Asriel is a child!" Which like... Okay, he's also dead and immortal at the same time. In wdyw he died at an older age so... 🤷🏻‍♀️ It depends on where you take the story. I could also just ship them platonically. So yeah!

Undyne x Alphys / Alphyne

This one is obvious. They're canon. They're beautiful. I love gay people. I love lesbians. I am a gay people. I am a lesbian. I love them.

Also, low-key, I also just like to explore more of their dynamic than just lovey dovey sapphic stuff. The highs and the lows. And they're perfect to do that with.

Nick x Sans / Nicecream Guy x Sans

This one is unorthodox, but it's because of Baby Face. They're so gay in that fic like it's unbelievable. If not Sans, then definitely Nick. Like they've definitely explored each other's bodies at least once.

Also in wdyw, they have a more complex, complicated friendship since they're more like long lost friends, and the whole "you betrayed our ideals by joining Asgore's military" and Nick "you joined a rebellion that will never win, you've doomed yourself to martyrdom." Sans saving Nick from prison & the purge, ugh, they're so complex, I love em!

Nick is definitely gay. I know we were pushing for Alick but honestly... That boy is gay. And I really believe that. I think the only better pairing for him would be Napstablook, or... And I guess I'll concede to years of shipping before me... Burgerpants/Bryan. Because Bryan has that like, newly joined rebellion, starry eyes, just found out his crush was brutally murdered by one of Muffet's assassins, etc, and then there's Nick, shining hero of the revolution. I think it could work really well.

Muffet x Toriel / Muffriel / Spiderscotch

Bro even the name screams lesbian, wtf? This is like Everlark's alternative ship name being peenis.

BRO THEY LIVE IN THE RUINS TOGETHER, MUFFET SET UP SHOP IN THE RUINS. TORIEL BAKES PIES AND MUFFET BAKES FUCKED UP SPIDER DONUTS. THEY'RE A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN. (And I'm purely talking about classic, but who's to say that wdyw Muffet wasn't sneaking into the queen's chambers after killing her own husband and poisoning Toriel's daughter right under her nose? UGH THE DRAMA!!!!)

Ugh, I love my gay ships.

Anyway, Toriel is the sweet, albeit very flawed, old money, cottage core wife, and Muffet is the manipulative, borderline Machiavellian, macabre, new money, goth wife and they're PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER. I've never been more serious in my life.

Anyway, those are my UT ships that are not Frans. Don't come for me, I know they're unconventional (except for Alphyne) but I love them each dearly.

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Old pencil drawing I did:

[sharpth1ng]

Hey do you have any transfem Billy headcanons

I know you’re transmasc but I feel like transfem representation is really low compared to transmasc representation

So do you have any headcanons you might have for transfem Billy

Yeah feels like there's more transfem rep in mainstream media but less in fanfiction, which sucks. But there's never enough trans rep in general, we need more of everything.

In terms of transfem Billy honestly I have a hard time coming up with anything because the characterization of this character is very rooted in masculinity and a relationship to masculinity. Billy is a gay man in my mind, so I'm not really sure how to conceptualize of a non-male Billy. Once I have a characterization in my head it's hard for me to step out of that.

To be honest I'm also not always sure what folks are looking for with trans head-canons. For the most part hcs for trans characters don't differ from their cis counterparts, unless we're talking about what steps they took to physically transition, and I feel kind of weird making a list of trans hcs that are just about physical transition.

ALL THAT SAID, I want to give you something, even if I can't give you quite what you asked for, SO:

Transfem Tatum hcs

Tatum was a pretty shy and reserved kid before she came out, didn't talk a lot, didn't have a lot of friends. She became a lot more social and bold post transition

She and Sid have basically been friends since they were babies because their moms went to the same maternity class while they were pregnant. She never really had to come out to Sid, Sid was just there the whole time

Her mom always wanted a daughter so Tatum got to do a lot of shopping and dressing up with her. There's a bunch of cute/cheesy 80's mall style portraits of her and her mom dressed up from when they went on shopping trips

As an adult Tatum wants to work in fashion, partially because it was such an important and early part of her gender expression

Stu was the first dude she came out to. She was understandably nervous because he's an idiot, but he really doesn't give a shit and it doesn't change much of anything for their relationship. He's just horny, he doesn't care what parts you have

When she's older, out of Woodboro, and able to go to bars and stuff she makes an effort to connect more with the queer community that she didn't have access to when she was younger. As a result she ends up sewing costumes for the drag queens at her local gay bar. She is beloved.

Tatum's the first girl Sid ever had a crush on

When they're older her and Sid become that one extremely wholesome (but also not to be fucked with) lesbian couple that adopts all the local queer kids who aren't safe staying at home

So yeah, I know that's not exactly what you asked for, but I'd rather give you something that feels in character than force hcs that my brain can't quite wrap around. And by the way I'm not saying transfem Billy shouldn't exist, if anyone has that in them please feel free to write it!

[callsignangelxx]

My BSD/DR OC Information/Backstory:

Name: Hayami Aiko

Age: 26 Years old.

Personality: Sadistic, Kind, cold.

Ability: “Heal all that is Lost.” allows the user to heal any wound, Fatal, Minor, Or Mortal. Similar to Yosano’s ability.

Significant Other: Yosano Akiko

Best friend: Ranpo Edogawa

Sexuality: Lesbian

Parents/Parental Figures: Hayami’s Biological Parents are Decreased, Due to some Rival Mafia Organization killing them, her only Main Parental Figure is Fukuzawa, who took her in after Rescuing her from the Port mafia’s grasp.

Backstory: After Her Parents were Killed, Hayami lived on the Streets for a While until Mori Ougai Found her himself, he Raised her Up to her Teen Years in the Port Mafia, Obviously Traumatizing her along the way, until the armed Detective Agency Found Out about it and Decided to Rescue her from Mori. After that She and Yosano became very Fond of Each other, only knowing about each others pasts never telling anyone.

Past affiliation: Port Mafia

Current Affiliation: Armed Detective agency

Skills: Hand To Hand Combat

Hayami is very skilled in hand to hand Combat, often using this to take down enemies in a Stand off.

Super Strength goes along with this, She’s also very skilled with Knives, Specifically Scalpels.

Hayami mainly works with Yosano in the Infirmary, sometimes she works on required Missions with her Main Partners, Dazai and Atsushi, Sometimes Kunikida if needed.

Anytime She Comes in contact or sees Mori in Public or During a Joint Mission with the Port mafia and The armed detective agency, Hayami Feels the need to Hide from him, even though she left the Port mafia with Fukuzawa and Ranpo, Mori Still lays out an offer for her and Dazai both to Rejoin the mafia.

Somehow Hayami is Very Rich, With being a Doctor and all, especially working for the armed Detective Agency, she loves to spend her money on three people, Ranpo, Kyouka, and Yosano. Rarely, on days where she’s feeling Particularly Nice, She’ll treat Dazai to a Shopping Spree.

The only two people from the Port mafia Hayami will treat indifferently to the others are Chuuya, and Kouyou, Kouyou being a mother figure towards Hayami, and Chuuya being like an older brother towards her.

Yosano and Hayami making a powerful Couple team up, both being a perfect Combo of sadistic and healing abilities along with similar trauma’s and Pasts.

Hayami’s VA Japanese: Kei Shindo, Kyoka jiro’s Voice Actor.

Hayami’s VA English: Colleen Clinkenbeard, Momo Yaoyorozu’s English Sub VA.

Face Claim: Shinobu Kocho:

[arc-misadventures]

Lesbian Dating Advice

Fem Jaune

Coco: I… I just don’t get it, Jea… I mean, she has to know I’m interested in her! Why can’t she see it?! Why can’t I hop my bunny already?! Please I need some help, I’m begging you!

Jeanne: Why did you come to me for dating advice? I’m not dating anyone, nor am I gay. Why me?

Coco: Because you’re the only girl friend I have, who else am I supposed to turn to? I mean, this is about my sweet little Bun-Bun, I can’t turn to her now, can I?

Jeanne: You think I’m your friend?

Coco: Hell yeah you are sister! We are ladies of fashion, and high class taste! There is no one I rather have by my side to help me judge fashion than you.

Jeanne: Aww… Thank you, Coco, that means allot to me too. Especially going shopping with you. None of my team knows how to coordinate anything, but their combat attire, bunch of slobs the lot of them!

Coco: Preach sister, preach!

Jeanne: As for you, and Vel. Well… I might know a reason, or two why you have been having problems.

Coco: Really? Tell me, tell me!

Jeanne: Its your personalities. They… clash.

Coco: What?! No they don’t, we get around famously, everyone knows that!

Jeanne: True, but while you are boisterous, and flamboyant, Vel tends to be more subdued, and reserved.

Coco: I don’t get it?

Jeanne: You project a presence that is louder than life, Coco. Vel may be intimated by it, so that’s why she’s afraid to, get the hint as it were. To put it simple: You’re scaring her away, Coco.

Coco: I’m scaring away, Velvet…?

Jeanne: Not intentionally, but passively.

Coco: My presence is too much for her to handle at times, so she’s having a harder time to break out of her shell… But, we are making such good progress on getting her to stop being so shy around others though.

Jeanne: Well, its one thing to say hello to a stranger, its another thing entirely to say I love you to your crush.

Coco: Oh… that makes sense… So what should I do then?

Jeanne: I think you just need to settle down around, Velvet. Just turn things down a couple of notches so she can feel more relaxed around you, and hopefully she’ll feel more comfortable around you to say she loves you. Or, you can do that, and ask her yourself. Of which, why haven’t you?

Coco: Ahh well… As much as I would love to tell her how I feel… for the good of any potential relationship, Velvet needs to be the one to tell me. So she has the better chance to grow as a person.

Jeanne: Hmm… That does sound like something she would need to do to grow as a person.

Coco: Plus, I bet it would be really cute to see! Velvet would be such a stuttering mess, with a deep blush as she hides behind her fluffy rabbit ears! Oh it would be so cute!

Jeanne: Pfft, now that’s something I need to see.

Coco: So what about you? Anyone catch your eyes lately?

Jeanne: Me, no… no one.

Coco: Why is that?

Jeanne: I’ve just been too focused on school that I just haven’t been focusing on dating anyone. Maybe, in my second year when I’ve settled down more in my schooling I could do it, but not now, not yet…

Coco: Fair… Felt the same way myself. I did hook up for the one night fling every now, and then to blow off some steam. But, nothing serious like I’m hoping to have with my little Bun-Bun.

Jeanne: But, would that have happened if you didn’t meet, Velvet though?

Coco: Maybe… I mean, if I didn’t have my little bunny, I may have fallen for this cute little blonde fashion model I met~!

Jeanne: Wait, are you talking about me?

Coco: Hell yeah I am, love~!

Jeanne: M-M-Me?! Why me?!

Coco: I love being around you, Angel~! I just thought the two of us, dating, imagine the fun we could have~!

Jeanne: I don’t know… I’ve always seen you as the beautiful older sister I’ve never had, but as my girlfriend?

Coco: Aww… Thanks little, Sis~!

Jeanne: There is one way we could test if we could be a thing…

Coco: What, we go on a date then? Hell, I’d be down for tha… Mph?!

Jeanne: Mmm… Mwah!

Coco: W-W-What the fuck…?!

Jeanne: Hmm… The kiss felt nice, but I didn’t feel any, ‘spark’ as they say… What did you think, Coco?

Coco: I… Uhhh…?!

Jeanne: Didn’t feel it either? Oh well, if it’s not meant to be, then its not meant to be… I bet it would have been fun though… Hm? Oh no… Sorry, Coco I’ve got to go, Nora is being… Nora. I’ll take to you later, bye~!

Coco: …

Coco: T-The Angel of Beacon k-kissed me…? I got kissed by an Angel?!

Coco: Oh no… Do I have a thing for, Jeanne?! I thought I was just joking! Oh gods?! What do I do now?!

Coco: …

Coco: Hold on, who says I can’t have just the one? Who says a badass girl like me, can’t have both!

Coco: Hehe~! Ohh, Mama likey~!

[sixofpomegranates]

omg, i had an idea but i can’t find anyone who wrote it 😭😭 could you do one where spence gets the reader a puppy (dashund, preferably) for christmas?! i love you so much xx

♞𝙰 𝙳𝚘𝚐 𝙽𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊♘

.✿{One Shot Masterlist}**{Requests/Feedback}**{Guidlines}✿.

A/N: This title has many meanings. I want a puppy. + Love you too✨

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

CW: Tooth Rotting Fluff, Dogs, Christmas **********

*picture does not describe the looks of the reader* **********

☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎

Love makes us do strange things. I'd never believed that it would happen to me, however. Both falling in love and doing strange things. Yet, here I was, at a dog sanctuary, getting a dog for the love of my life.

I didn't really like dogs – I didn't hate them either, but they were everything that I wasn't. They were extroverted, liked to go outside, eager to be with people, and didn't mind getting dirty.

Literally, everything I wasn't. But they were everything my girlfriend was.

[y/n] and I were like fire and water, like cat and... Well, dog.

People, most of the time, couldn't believe that I was blessed with a woman like her. They didn't understand how she hadn't already dumped me and gotten a guy more like her. Hell, not even I understood it, to be honest.

But there she was. It was unbelievable to love her.

After two years of dating, we'd moved together, we'd never really spent a night apart since starting to date, anyway. We had gotten a house Derek had started to renovate and [y/n] had helped him finish it up, adding some additional built-in bookshelves for me.

The house was a do-it-yourself dream of [y/n], she painted the walls, made most of the décor, and had a vegetable patch.

I just lived there, going along with all of her plans.

Even if she would've painted everything pink, I wouldn't care.

I didn't care where and how I lived as long as it was with her.

And if I had to now also share my life with a four-legged fleabag, fine by me.

This sanctuary was a nice place, when ignoring the germs and dirty dogs jumping up your legs. It belonged to a lesbian couple solely adopting older dogs from shelters, also stray pregnant ones, making sure the mothers and puppies had the best options of finding a home.

I was not going to buy a puppy from a puppy mill or pet shop.

[y/n] would never forgive me for supporting those awful places while there were dogs that really needed somebody to love them.

A couple of weeks ago, I'd been here, having met some of the puppies from the last litters. Today, the day of Christmas, I would take one home.

*****

☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎

I really didn't know what Spencer was planning. After having spent all day preparing for our little Christmas dinner for two, I had gotten an address sent by him, telling me to come immediately.

At least I knew it wasn't an emergency, we had a secret word for when something bad happened. Blake had given Spencer that idea.

Arriving at the address, I got out, looking at the large family home. Spencer stood there on the porch, smiling.

"Hey, Babes," he greeted me, kissing me. "What is going on?" I asked suspiciously, trying to look at whatever he was holding behind his back.

He revealed a little gift back, handing it to me. "Merry Christmas."

The content of this bag was a little red collar with a bow, I looked up at him and smiled. "That's not going to fit me, Spence."

He became as red as a tomato, shaking his head. "N-No, I- Uhm... Puppy."

Puppy.

PUPPY.

"Oh my god," I whispered. "But you said you don't like dogs." Spencer nodded. "But I love you, and if one makes you happy, I bet I could get along with it as well."

He lead me into the house, into a room where a woman, was waiting next to a litter of wild, happy dachshund puppies.

"You said they're your favorite," Spencer smiled, and I nodded, kneeling down and holding out my hand for the little puppies to smell on.

"I'm dead and have gone to heaven," I mumbled, making the woman laugh.

"They're twelve weeks, all have their shots, their papers, and are healthy," she explained, while I began playing with the little ones.

"And I just get to pick one?" I asked my boyfriend, making him nod. "That's the plan."

Choosing one when you want the whole dachshund army was going to be the toughest decision of the year. They were all adorable, their tiny, long bodies hopping around and playing with each other.

Between all the black and red furry babies, a sleeping chocolate brown pup caught my eyes. It had been sleeping the whole time, not even noticing that we were there.

I carefully crawled over to it, reaching out and softly stroking its head.

As it slowly opened its eyes, it stretched a little, making the same whining sound Spencer made when being woken up.

It got up, stretching again and waddling towards me, wagging its tail happily. After some more patting, it crawled into my lap, rolled into a ball, and started to sleep again.

"Spence," I whispered excitedly. Holding back the urge to giggle and say 'You're coming home with me' with the little puppy.

"Guess we have a winner," he chuckled, talking to the woman and finding out that this was a little girl.

They had called her Luna until now. That had to change though. Luna was the most cliche dog name I could think of.

While I stayed with soon-no-longer Luna, Spencer paid for her. I took my time to change her green collar to the red one with bow, Spencer had given me. She didn't even wake up, tired little baby.

Once Spencer came back with our papers, we said goodbye, walking to the car.

"I can't believe you bought me a puppy," I giggled, giving Spencer my keys so he could drive while I held Nameless.

"You always said you wanted one." I nodded. "And because you're the best boyfriend in the world, you got me one."

*****

After an expansive trip to a pet store, we had more toys than Spencer had books, some food, bowls, a leash, and so on.

I just finished up our dinner in the kitchen, rewatching an episode of WandaVision, as Spencer came in, holding little Nameless.

"Hey, my babies," I greeted them, kissing first Spencer and then the puppy.

"She still needs a name if you don't want to stick with Luna," he smiled, holding the puppy like a baby while she almost fell asleep. So much for him, not being a dog person.

"Luna definitely has to go," I snickered, looking back onto my phone as the studio audience laughed at Wanda turning the chicken back into eggs.

He chuckled, making the puppy look at him. "Как тебя зовут, Рыбка?

I loved when he spoke Russian, I didn't understand a word, but god was it hot.

"How about Wanda?" I asked without thinking.

"Wanda?" Spencer repeated, looking down at my phone. "Oh, Wanda Maximoff Reid. I like it. Do you like it?"

Spencer really didn't care as long as I was happy. It was a good thing we planned on staying together forever because I would never be able to find another man like him.

Spencer was the man other women could only dream of, and he was all mine.

"I like it too," I said, and he nodded happily, stroking over Wanda's fur before stopping and looking concerned.

"Huh," he said, making me frown. "What? What is it?" I asked worried, and he came closer.

"I don't know, she seems to have something at her neck," he mumbled. "Can you check? I hold her."

I nodded, guiding my hand along the collar. I stopped as my hand touched something cold. Looking closer, there was a diamond ring on Wanda's collar.

"Oh my God," I whispered, looking at Spencer, who handed me Wanda and got down on one knee.

"[y/n]?" He asked. "I've been thinking about how we could make our first Christmas in our forever home unforgettable, and I figured that having you become my wife would be the perfect way to do so. Will you marry me?"

Tears filled my eyes and I had to be careful not to accidentally drop Wanda. Sinking to my knees, I kissed Spencer with all the love I had to give.

"Of course, I'll marry you."

Giggling through his own tears, he whispered, "I love you so much." "I love you too," I whispered back, kissing him again.

Then he took the ring from Wanda's collar and placed it on my finger.

Smiling, I asked, "Since when have you planned this?"

Spencer shrugged, starting to blush, "Wanda's twelve weeks old, so I'd say four months, maybe five? But I already knew I wanted to marry you after our first date."

"Oh my god, I love you so much," I mumbled to myself, letting Wanda down and jumping to my feet, helping Spencer up and starting to serve our dinner.

"I don't think I can top your surprises with my gifts for you this year," I sighed a little, serving the mashed potatoes first.

He waved me off, "Every day you love me is the biggest surprise and greatest gift you could get me."

I softly hit his chest and he pulled me onto his lap.

"I guess you don't want your replica of the Star Trek light-and-sound communicator then," I shrugged with a smile. His eyes went wide, "What?"

"I bought you one because you said you'd like to start a little replica collection once we have the room for it." Looking to the ceiling, he exclaimed, "I have the best wife in the world."

"Fiancée," I corrected, making him chuckle. "Just a matter of time, [y/n]." He placed a kiss on my lips. "Just a matter of time."

The squeaking of a dog toy made us look at Wanda, battling a plush dog bone at least half her size. We laughed at the view and I rested my head on Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer was my forever home.

I was living the best life imaginable, and this Christmas would forever be unforgettable.

[aquanthis]

tell me more about linore and linestelle separately .They both look so cute I want to learn. please. looks at you with autism in my eyes

OH YES i loooove talking about my less talked about wow ocs >:3c ty for asking!

both of these girls have Issues™, though which of my wow ocs don't tbh. i'll start with linore because she's just a little more developed <3

putting this under a read more because it is. Long

^ full version of the screenshot i used for the carrd btw

Huntmaster Linore Featherbow, the Stars' Fury

my BESTIE. she's a marksmanship hunter + a huntmaster :) she wields thori'dal because i can do whatever i want. teehee. she's transfem and bisexual and a horse girl. dw about it

she's very, uh, stable? i guess? firm and grounded, more logical than emotional. she's very gentle, though, which is why she works so well with her horses. she's honest and forgiving, though not to the point of being spineless. she didn't have strong feelings toward the horde until uh. well. You Know. and now she's more distrustful than she feels comfortable with. she's an amazing tactician and a great leader, though sometimes she's a little more cautious than her position demands, and sometimes it saves her ass. depends on the day. :)

she grew up learning skinning/leatherworking from her father, who was a talented leatherworker working in darnassus. her parents were relatively overprotective, so she wasn't allowed to go out hunting with her father for a long time, despite her keen interest in it. she'd work with him in the shop though, and has a great love and respect for the craft. eventually, when she got older, she finally talked her parents into letting her go, and she honed her skill with the intention to eventually take over for her father.

unfortunately, uh! both of her parents died in the fire. so . she had to do that earlier than expected.

she also had a childhood friend named maven (seb's oc!) who had a huge crush on her, and they were very close. she never realized she had feelings for him until she found him washed up on the beach as teldrassil was burning, nearly dead and horribly wounded, and everything came crashing down on her so so bad. it makes me so crazy. i love them

there's more stuff but i don't want to make this the longest post ever JSHDKJ here she is with her horses though

as for linestelle!

Soulreaper Linestelle Deathweaver, Deathlord of the Ebon Blade

ooooh girl who died and came back wrong for realsies. she's a blood death knight (despite looking like a frost dk lol she's taking after her dad!) and a deathlord. she wields the maw of the damned. you just so happened to ask about a couple of my champions LOL

she's a butch lesbian and should be much beefier than she is in game. she was killed and subsequently raised as a dk during the attack on silvermoon. she was in her late teens, and completely lost her memory, becoming a mindless soldier. she was adopted by koltira (hence the last name) shortly after he broke free from arthas, and then was adopted by thassarian by extension. she was scared, and the two of them took pity on her and took her in.

in her former life prior to becoming a dk, she had a bit of a romance going with a girl in silvermoon who survived the attack (one of my other ocs who is less developed and isn't listed on the carrd. her name is auridel though!). linestelle completely forgot her because she lost her memory, but auridel Did Not forget her, and actively hates her because she thinks she ran away and left her, instead of, yknow, Dying And Losing Her Memory. they were kind of toxic yuri. auridel is rommath's apprentice now if that gives you any idea as to Her character KJSHDKDHSKD

personality-wise, linestelle doesn't really have much of one anymore. she lost a lot of the personality she had before losing her memory, so nowadays she's kind of flat-affect most of the time. she used to be hotheaded and some of that comes out when she fights, because she's Super easy to rile up in a fight, but outside of that she's rarely emotive and tends to keep to herself. if you knew her before, she'd hardly be recognizable now. the only person who can get her to smile, even a little, is thassarian. with bad dad jokes. :) the only time you'd find her laughing is if she's tearing a zombie apart or something.

oh, also, she looks after invincible now. they're friends. :)

anyway, i like her a lot. i like her so much. linestelle my friend. can you tell i love thassarian and koltira also. sorry about that

i hope you like my girls!! <3

[candygalaxyyy]

And since I’m throwing out ideas for gl pairings I need the SIZZY girls to get their own show!

I would personally like to see CiizeJan and JaneAye, but to be honest it could go whichever way and i would be satisfied. I JUST WANT TO SEE MY GIRLS IN MORE LEADING ROLES AND IN A GL, TOGETHER. Someone get me into gmmtv’s A&R because they are really missing out by not giving these girl a show. THEY COULD LITERALLY MAKE A GIRL GROUP GL LIKE COME ONNNN. Or something else, but I don’t want a school/university one because we are already getting 23.5 (plus tu and prim would fit a university concept better). i have an idea and I’ll just use the ‘actresses names + character’ to make it easier.

Okay so here’s my vision. It could be an office romance thing. Not the GAP, CEO x employee kind, but it’s still an office romance just a weaker power dynamic. So Jan’s character/cht (age 28). Is an editor at a fashion house/magazine within a media company, she’s your typical chic, cold and levelheaded fashion girlie. She went to a top university and has a master’s in marketing, media and e-commerce. She’s hard working and competent, and is striving to one day become the editor in chief of their division. Only child. Online shopping and drinking wine are her favorite pass times. Loves jazz and indie music. Hates any form of physical activity, would much rather binge reruns of her favorite lakorn. Never had much interest in dating or romance so her sexuality is ??? to others (family & friends), but she’s lesbian. And the new employee is Ciize. Ciize’s character (age 23) recently graduated and starts out as an assistant editor, who obviously gets paired with Jan cht, because Jan’s previous assistant quit (Jan’s cht was overbearing). Did international economics + a year abroad. She is bubbly, extroverted, creative and competitive. She loves fashion and is always down for adventure. Ex-football athlete (soccer for Americans) when she was in high school. She is always branching out and trying new things, her goal in life is to one day create her own sustainable clothing brand. She’s smart but a little disorganized, but it’s okay because she just started out (she’s a quick learner though). Youngest of 3, older brother and sister. Loves going to the beach. Strong dislike for spicy food, picky eater. She’s pan and has been in one relationship during uni that ended kinda messy. The perfect grumpy x sunshine couple who grow closer as they work together and start secretly dating at work.

So moving on to JaneAye. Jane’s character (age 28) is a curator at an arts and culture museum. She studied either contemporary art or cross cultural management, or both you know double major. Jane’s character is a very expressive person, she loves cats and is an avid movie watcher (she loves horror & sci-fi). Blunt and doesn’t sugarcoat anything, can’t stand passive aggressive people. To her, family and friends are the most important things, oldest of 5. She’s very diligent and loyal, the most dependable person, if you were caught in a difficult situation she’s the one to call. She has her fair share of experience with relationships, most of them ended badly so she’s more cautious but still a hopeless romantic. Loves movie dates (with friends or partner). Not a fan of PDA or skinship. Openly bisexual, came out when she was 18. Aye’s character (age 24) is talkative, intuitive and easygoing, she doesn’t like confrontation but always ends up in such situations. She is an ambivert, she likes to read people’s vibes and energy before getting close to them. She studied communication arts at a well-known university. Loves outdoor activities and enjoys fitness, but also likes some alone time cooking or reading a book. She’s been an athlete since primary (i.e. middle school), she plays for a woman’s football club now. Also an aspiring actress and is a influencer. Coffee lover. Sensitive to others opinions, people pleaser. She is the middle child. Was comphet and in a hetero relationship before, but is now a baby lesbian. Jane’s cht meets Aye’s cht. At a local supermarket where they had an altercation over something. Of course Aye’s cht was being passive aggressive, while Jane’s character was with all the smoke so they naturally don’t like each other. With the bad first impression they keep bumping into each other in undesirable situations, making them dislike each other even more. Until Aye’s cht is selected as an influencer for an event at Jane’s museum and they have to work together. A classic bad first impression, enemies to lovers, and slow burn romance.

Jan and Jane’s cht are childhood besties, they’re neighbours as their childhood homes are 4 minutes away from each other (walking distance). They have an interesting dynamic, they balance each other out very well. They are kinda like a platonic grumpy x sunshine. They’ve been friends for 20 years and went to the same high school and university. They share the same birth date and year, just different months. Jan’s cht supported and was there for Jane’s cht when she came out to her somewhat conservative parents, she even stayed with Jan’s family for a while. Jane cht is literally the only person who knows that Jan cht is a lesbian. They are platonic soulmates. They both come from a traditional upper-middle class background, Jan cht parents are less conservative and considered more ‘liberal’. Ciize and Aye’s cht were in different high schools and were rivals in the same after-school football club. They stopped being rivals when Ciize’s cht stopped taking football as seriously, so they eventually became casual friends. They went to the same university but were in different faculties and friend groups, so they barely interacted. Ciize’s is from an upper class household. Aye’s cht is from a middle class household. They become closer due to their respective relationships with Jan and Jane’s cht.

I feel like this could be a cute, rom-com fluff series about being a young working woman striving to achieve her hopes and dreams, while navigating friendship and love. Consisting of mild angst and a happy ending. A female studded cast, with little to no male characters that are significant to the romance plot (I could allow 1 (maybe 2 if I’m feeling generous) since gmmtv loves men so much- not including family members or friends). Anyways someone needs to make a novel for them and the people at gmmtv needs to make this happen somehow.

[rabidmind101]

I didn’t really update the blog on this yet, but just a few days ago I came out to my close friends online as non-binary. and it feels pretty good. I have maybe one or two entries that mention how distant I’ve felt to womanhood and female companionship. women are just not relatable to me. I find more in common with basically everyone except cis women.

this was all built up over many many years. pre pubescent me would draw themselves as a tomboy-like figure. I didn’t dress masculine because I had no control over what I wore. but it’s like the version of myself in my head- the coolest and most ideal version of me, was sort of masculine or tomboyish. I imagined myself as a teenager and older being fairly feminine, though. and it’s true, I do quite enjoy dressing in a feminine way.

the part that I don’t care for is the whole act. I never realized before I came out how much I just silenced myself. it was hard to look at people sometimes, especially pretty girls my age because they were a burning reminder of what I will never have. feminine energy. the reason I can’t fit in to many female spaces. I got most everything else down. I love clothing, love makeup, keep up with trends to some degree, and generally enjoy lots of feminine things. but when it comes to practicality I find that most activities directed towards women are completely shallow. and it’s not their fault. I would probably blame big corporations for embracing malls, brunch restaurants, and boba tea shops as a common meeting place for young women. don’t get me wrong, I like doing all of those things. but my god, is this what we’ve limited ourselves to?!

men are so casual with hanging out. “hey bro come over and we’ll play fuck all video game for like five plus hours” and it’s just super chill. I mean I guess you can’t get as close to someone that way. but the way women interact with each other feels so forced. I really hope this doesn’t sound sexist at all. I think if the way women do things makes them happy, so be it! but ever since I entered high school I was hit with the realization that I was never meant for that.

so there’s definitely a social aspect. but what really pushed me to come out a couple days ago was kind of… sexual? you see, I have been a long time porn watcher. I discovered that I’m attracted to women through porn. unfortunate, but true. I’ve always felt like my sexuality was kinda masculine until I actually started having sex. then I was just trying to please him as much as possible so he wouldn’t be unhappy.

okay I’m getting off topic now. so about the porn. I usually have just watched female povs, regular amateur, and some production stuff when I was younger (bad taste). a few years back I began watching male povs. like, camera is strapped to the head and what not. this turned me on a lot. and I thought it was because I thought of being with a girl. but I was actually turned on by the thought of having a cock. I could not ignore this consistent desire to have a penis and put it to use. and I didn’t want to be a man at all, and I still don’t want that. I would like to be the state I am now, just like, with a peen.

and then I started watching blowjob videos, which was super hot to me. and oddly enough was at the time where I started giving those. and when I started enjoying sucking balls, I also enjoyed it in the videos as well. and my obsession grew deeper. harem videos of 2+ women at once. and this entire time I was very confused. but what confused me even more was when I started watching gay men. at first I felt guilty because it felt like the gender reversal of the creepy lesbian-obsessed straight guy. I just tried to ignore it.

so the other night, I was having fun with myself. I believe it was lesbian stuff that I was watching. I finished one time with a stimulator, then I decided I wanted more and went for some penetration. usually when I do this I have an internal fantasy about a person of my choice. in this case it happened to be L. not from fucking Death Note, it’s an abbreviation. anyways, L is a cis guy. I imagined him fucking me and was loving it. I was very much feeling the submissive, receiving side of it. after I finished a few times, my mind started to wander off. and I was confronted with how feminine this whole act was. maybe this was dysphoria??? suddenly I felt embarrassed and ashamed, so I stopped. I immediately started crying. saying to myself, “I hate being a woman, I hate this stupid fucking vagina” and what not. idk about y’all but I’ve never heard any cis women say shit like that. but these are thoughts I’ve already had an expressed in private. but that night it just came pouring out of me. it ate me up and I became angry. I wanted to handle my emotions the way men do, violently. I took a shower and pondered the entire time whether I was nonbinary. I admitted to myself that I couldn’t start accepting who I am until I open up to some trusted friends. and so that night I put out a statement on my alt accounts close friends story that I was personally identifying as nb. and I’m so happy I did it.

the next day I left the house with confidence. I dressed down a little. drop crotch pants, grungey button up shirt, and my docs. it’s not my best outfit but I felt cooler. and while I was dressed like that, and mentally in the space of acceptance, I found it so much easier to interact with people. I even smiled at this cute girl with pink glasses. she didn’t make eye contact with me lol, but it was more than I could ever do before. I just didn’t have the same confidence. whenever I would be so forcibly fem, I felt as if I was competing. now that I’ve accepted that this is who I am, I don’t feel the need to compete with, relate with, or have anything to do with women if I don’t want to. because it has been a struggle for me recently. I’m so tired of being the outcast.

I’ve wrote quite a lot today. some good, some bad. but in general right now, I’m feeling very good. this new found realization is getting me through a life long concern of mine. I have so many exciting things this week that I don’t want to jinx, so I’m just gonna end it here 🧿🪬

[reviewsthatburn]

STEEL'S EDGE is the conclusion of The Edge series, wrapping up the fates of heroes and villains alike. It answers things like what happened to Spider? will Élénore stay in the Edge? It also answers what happened to some minor characters from ON THE EDGE who either appeared briefly or were discussed but never seen. Technically most of what it resolves was introduced in earlier books, as it finally deals with the slavers who have been referenced throughout, specifically but not only as they relate to what happened to Lark/Sophie. The point-of-view characters are different yet again, this time George gets to narrate a little (last book was Jack's turn), and the main couple are new as narrators. Richard Mar has been around since BAYOU MOON, but Charlotte de Ney makes her debut here. It's nice to see Richard as more than just the repeatedly-referenced, serious older brother to Kaldar and cousin to Cerise. Charlotte is a good fit for him, and their relationship is one between two people who were both previously married and betrayed in some way by those spouses, figuring out if they want a relationship at all. 

Full review at link.

[freackthejester]

Okay, but Dean Winchester in this outfit

[prismatic-bell]

HEY ALL MY NEW YORK CITY QUEERS!!!

I need your assistance, please, because NYC is not my neighborhood.

So my niece came out this summer. To me she said “probably a lesbian but I’m not sure,” to my sister she said “not straight.” We’re waiting for her to find labels she’s comfortable with if she wants them, so let’s go with “not straight” for this post.

My sister is doing her best to be a good ally and support to my niece, sometimes to an extent that it makes me cry (I think of what it was like for me to be a queer teenager in the 00s and to see the love and unconditional support Maya is getting is just….it’s overwhelming, is what it is). A significant amount of the family is in NYC, and they’re visiting for Thanksgiving.

My sister said she wants to connect Maya a little with the queer community in NYC—basically just to say “here are people who are even more Your People than I’m able to be, here is your history and your community, you are allowed to be part of this.” Problem is, Maya is 13, and what Angel’s been able to find has almost unilaterally been spaces and events for adults.

I suggested visiting the Stonewall Inn, because even if Maya can’t go inside she can still see where it happened and they can do a little research together on Stonewall and what happened there. I also suggested a “treasure hunt” for some of the Keith Haring murals. But, Angel understandably wants options to choose from. (She’s particularly interested in finding a play—whether on Broadway or off—that’s queer friendly.)

So: if you were handed a 13-year-old for a couple of days, and told “please show her some of her history and community while we’re here,” where would you take her? Are there queer-owned shops or restaurants the family can go to? What’s currently playing that might be of interest? (Personal request: please, PLEASE, nothing in the vein of RENT or Angels In America. They are important parts of queer history and I will watch them with her when she’s older. Right now we’re looking for positive and affirming. I’m not trying to hide the AIDS crisis from her, but for her mental health let’s get some good rep under her belt before we go for “and also, basically everybody died.”) What queer landmarks would be your must-sees? Are there any events like drag shows that are open to under-18s?

I’ll be forwarding any suggestions to my sister for her and Maya to peruse. Keep in mind these do not have to be huge things! If you live in a neighborhood with a tiny restaurant owned by a cute lesbian couple who decorated the place in pride flags, TELL ME. If there an upcoming art exhibit by someone local who’s queer, TELL ME. The present is as important as the past.

Thank you, folks! My sister has a strict “no pictures of my kids on social media because they deserve to create their own online image when they’re old enough” policy, but I’d love to share the results with you when the fam gets back to Houston.

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Eivor x Fem!Reader - Ink Me Up

Oh, what to do when the Norwegian woman tattooing your thigh is insanely attractive, clearly gay, with a criminally good bedside manner?

Warning: about tattooing and obviously needles.

Word count: 4363

Can be found on AO3 here.

Heavily inspired by this post here. The tattoo itself is purely self-indulgent. Eivor is stupidly attractive and it's not fair. (Y/N) replacer safe.

After months of saving and deliberation, the time had come. For the longest time you had dreamed of getting something big, bold and beautiful permanently inked into your skin. Something meaningful. And you wanted someone talented to tattoo it.

Thus, you found yourself scouring the web for reputable tattoo shops, hours upon hours poured into searching artists’ portfolios, hoping that someone was skilled enough at black-and-grey realism within a relatively close radius. If you were going to pay a hefty sum for a tattoo, you wanted it to be perfect. Your desktop was flooded with reference images of sword lilies – the subject of your desired ink – and about a dozen different parlours, tabs whittling down one by one during your search.

The final tab was the website for a slightly pricier shop, but one of the artist’s Instagrams utterly captivated you. Their artwork was extraordinary, the details in their pieces stunning and intricate; you decided investing a little extra cash would be worth it. Eivor Varinsdóttir, handle @wolfkissed_ink. Grinning, you emailed the artist, requesting a consultation.

You explained to the artist during that consultation that you wanted a composition of black-and-grey realistic gladioli on your left thigh. Sword lilies represented strength, after all, and you wanted to commemorate overcoming a difficult part of your life with something gorgeous and symbolic. That and, well, flowers were pretty. Within the week they had responded with a sketch that was beyond what you could have possibly thought up yourself: two stunning, bloomed sprigs of the flower with petals floating either side, lifelike as a monochrome photograph. Smiling ear-to-ear, you booked up your first appointment.

Unbridled excitement led to the time before your appointment soaring by, with you opening up the file of the sketch almost every day. Bringing us to the present: you stood anxiously outside the parlour door, 12:50pm, ten minutes before your scheduled appointment. Sucking in a shaky breath, nerves both good and bad, you stepped inside.

The tattoo shop was sleek, modern and decked wall-to-wall with flash sheets, the small designs varying in style, colour and detail. Everything was spotless, as one would expect, with shining awards dotted about. Just seeing the various trophies did well to quell some of your anxieties, knowing you were in good hands, that you’d end up with a lovely piece on your thigh. A stout man covered neck to foot in swirling Japanese designs manned the front desk, smiling warmly at you, obliterating any stigmas you had heard from older relatives about tattoo culture.

Biting your lip, you made your way to the desk, mustering a nervous smile. As thrilled as you were about getting the tattoo, the whole pain aspect was still rather daunting. “Hey, one o’clock appointment for (Y/N) (L/N)?” You fidgeted with the hem of your shorts while the gentleman checked his desktop.

“With Eivor, right?” he verified. You nodded.

“Sorry I’m a little early—”

“No, not at all! Rather you be early than late,” he chuckled, clearly sensing your worries. His eyes flickered across a clipboard. “She’s not with a client at the moment, so I’ll send you through now, if that’s alright.”

“Sounds good, thank you,” you bade, pulse quickening. Come on, you’ve wanted this for so long, you can’t pussy out now.

The guy asked you to wait by the desk as he ventured down a long corridor, the black paint giving off an ominous vibe that did nothing for your nerves. A few seconds later, he returned, cocking his head for you to follow. Your knuckles were white from gripping the strap of your purse so tightly.

He led you to the room at the end of the hall, holding the glossy black door open for you. “Go easy on her, Eivor, it’s clearly her first,” he called out, flashing you a wink, before letting the door close behind you.

Holy shit.

She was hot.

Eivor was nothing short of a modern day viking. Tall, rippling with muscle, late twenties to early thirties, blond hair strewn into an unruly braid with a strip on the right shaved clean to the flesh, revealing a fucking skull tattoo of a bird…a raven? Her face was stupidly handsome, eyes blue and icy but warm with greeting, a long and gnarly scar cutting into the flesh of her left cheek with a smaller nick protruding from her upper lip. Hell, the nape of her neck was marred with an even more vicious looking scar. She wore a tight black t-shirt that strained around her deliciously grizzled arms, which were adorned with Norse-looking runes and text curving into circles, ink that carried on to her hands and neck. The smile she offered you made you weak in the knees.

“(Y/N), right? I’m Eivor, a pleasure to meet you,” she greeted, voice deep and gravelly, decorated with a rasp that to you sounded like butter. Fuck me, she’s a tall, tall glass of water.

You shook her hand when she extended it to you, marvelling at the patterns and blacked-out bands on her long, thick fingers. Her nails were cut extremely short, confirming the strong lesbian vibe she gave off. “Likewise,” you squeaked, cursing yourself for acting like some bloody schoolgirl.

She sauntered over to her setup, weight carried in her shoulders, consolidating her already intimidatingly attractive butch energy, sanitised her hands and pulled on a clean pair of gloves. “Come on over,” she said, grabbing a disposable razor from a box. “I’ll just need to make sure the area is shaven, if that’s alright.”

“Of course,” you replied, joining her by the leather chair, covered by a sheet of cellophane. It was a relief to see all the hygiene precautions taken in the shop. Eivor picked up a disinfectant wipe.

“Left thigh, if I remember correctly?”

“Mhm, yeah.”

She dropped to one knee – wasn’t that a fucking sight – and wiped down the expanse of your thigh before gliding the razor over the flesh.

Hesitantly, you asked her what the general procedure was, desperately trying to divert your thoughts from the sapphic spiral they were travelling down.

“Alright, after I’ve finished here I’ll apply the stencil. You’ll get to check if you like the placement, and if you don’t I’ll keep going until you’re happy with it. It’s a big piece, so we’ll have to split this up into two sessions, as we discussed alongside payment.” She brushed away the loose hairs and peach fuzz. “I’ll do the linework this session, and the shading next time.” With one final pass of the razor she pulled back, tossing it into a bin.

Eivor then picked up a sheet of thin paper with the sketch printed on it. She plucked a purple pen from her table. “Give me a few minutes to trace the stencil, then we’ll apply it and see how you like it.” You nodded, trying to focus on your breathing.

While she traced over each line of the sketch, she kindly attempted to soothe your fears with small talk. “I’ll admit, I’ve never heard of a ‘gladiolus’ before our consultation. Any reason why you chose it?”

You smiled. “They represent strength. I finally got through a rough spell and wanted something to celebrate with,” you explained, heart skipping a beat at the soft expression on the artist’s face.

“All the more reason to get this perfect then,” she said with a grin. The way the scar on her upper lip quirked was positively adorable. A couple minutes passed and she re-capped the pen. “Stand up straight for me, darling.” Oh.

Cheeks burning with bashfulness, you complied. Eivor took a second to angle the stencil before smoothing it over your thigh, leaving a purple outline once she removed the paper. “Just have a look in that mirror over there and tell me if you’re happy, okay?”

You walked over to the mirror and stared at your thigh. The tattoo was large – which you expected, with the amount of detail in it – and perfectly central, the loose petals appearing to float down the length of your thigh. “Perfect,” you breathed out, giving the woman a thumbs-up.

Eivor switched over her gloves and gestured for you to take a seat on the chair. “Get comfy, then. Do you have water?” Nodding, you took out your water bottle from your handbag. “Brilliant. Still want to do this?”

“Hell yeah.” Weirdly, the nerves about the pain (not about the sexy artist) had almost wholly subsided, leaving you brimming with anticipation.

She poured some jet black ink into small caps, no larger than the tip of your thumb. “Remember to breathe through it and hold still, yeah? You picked a smart place for your first tattoo, not too close to the bone.”

“I’ll try.” Eivor opened a sealed packet containing a new, sterilised needle, inserting it into her tattoo machine. She switched it on, the buzz of the machine’s piston filling the room with a gentle hum. Looking up at you, she cocked her brow – if only your gay thoughts could bugger off for two minutes – as if to ask, ready? Affirmatively, you beamed at her.

Dipping the needle into the ink, she pulled the skin of your thigh taut. Immediately, you noted the warmth of her hand on your leg, fighting off a shudder. Then came a mildly painful scratching sensation as she brought the machine to your thigh.

Honestly? It wasn’t bad. Irritating, like an itchy eye, but not drastically unpleasant. You followed Eivor’s advice, keeping your breathing steady, averting your attention to the artwork on the walls, some of which you had seen on her Instagram portfolio. Portraits, flowers, animals, realistic-looking jewellery…the woman had mastered black-and-grey. You knew you picked the right artist. The frown of concentration on her face spoke volumes about her dedication to the art, steeled and intently focused on the lines she was pulling.

When she wiped the area and reached for more ink, she glanced up at your face. “All good?” she asked.

“Yeah, no issues here.”

“Wonderful.” She set back to work, positioning her needle over the flower’s curved stem, dragging it downwards in a slow arc. “Your skin takes ink like butter, by the way.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you breathed out. Her hand suddenly felt a little warmer. Tell me this woman does audiobooks, you thought.

After a few more lines, you tried to pepper in some small talk without breaking her concentration. Fortunately, her bedside manner was immaculate, and she entertained your questions without any grudges.

“Your voice is really soothing. Where abouts are you from?”

“Oh, thank you. I’m from Norway, moved here a few years back.” She grinned at the compliment. “It’s funny, people usually say the opposite about my voice.” You wondered if they were deaf.

“It’s a nice rasp,” you chuckled. Buzzing stopped, more ink.

“I was bitten by a wolf when I was nine,” she explained. Buzzing recommenced, scratching returned. “My larynx never properly healed from it, so I’ve sounded like some chain-smoker since before I hit double-digits, despite never touching a cigarette in my life.”

“You don’t sound like a chain-smoker, though. I mean it.”

Her grin widened. “That actually means a lot.”

An hour passed by, most of it spent in comfortable silence, with Eivor checking in on you occasionally to see how you were coping. Certain patches of nerves stung a little more than others, but none of it was unbearable. That was until her machine passed over a particularly rough area. It fucking killed, the burn of the needle seemingly deeper than anywhere else, the sting infinitely more intense than before. You hissed, gritting your teeth together.

“Ow,” you winced, clutching onto your water bottle in an attempt to relieve the pain, to no avail.

Eivor continued pulling her line, her rasp coming out in a low mantra. “Just breathe through it, nice and slow…” You tried to follow, attempting in vain to relax your shoulders. “Keep holding still for me…” Your breaths came shallow but steadily so, the stinging slowly becoming more endurable. The machine reached the end of the line. “Good girl,” she muttered, blissfully of absent mind.

Good girl.

Oh fuck.

Just when your clearly gay tattoo artist couldn’t get any hotter, she comes out with some hot-girl bullshit like that. And fuck, you didn’t think you had a praise kink before, but now this certainly awakened something. Why, why did it have to sound so good in her husky voice? No, you were absolutely not going to fantasise about your artist, not when her hands were on your skin, on your thigh of all fucking places. God, this stupidly attractive Norwegian butch was making you uncomfortably hot.

When she finally pulled away, sweet bloody reprieve, you took a sip of your water. “That wasn’t fun,” you remarked.

“Took it like a champion, though,” she beamed proudly, clearly unaware of the affect her words had just had on you. “Need a break?”

“Just a minute or two, thank you,” you sighed with relief. Eivor wiped you down and analysed her work.

“We’re just over halfway there,” she commented. Only halfway? Fuck. You allowed your eyes to wander over the black lines, all perfectly smooth from practiced precision. Yeah, this woman was talented.

“I mean, that killed, and that was my thigh…” you trailed off, making her laugh. “What was the most painful tattoo you’ve gotten?”

Eivor answered without hesitation. “My head, without a doubt. Packing solid black into that thing was agony. My fingers killed, too, but all completely worth it.” You couldn’t help but agree with that last part. Her hands looked extremely good, both with and without those gloves.

“I’m guessing places with more nerve endings and by the bone are the worst, then?”

“Definitely. The palm of the hand is the most sensitive, and it’s tough to get right. Ink bleeds, skin bleeds…and if you don’t do it well it’ll just fade. All that pain for nought.”

You gulped down some more water. Ouch. “Duly noted.”

After ninety odd more minutes, Eivor switched off her machine for good, the linework finished and utterly flawless. “All done for this session,” she announced, changing gloves once more to clean and wrap the area. There was minimal irritation around each line, and the wipe felt wonderfully cool against the reddening flesh.

Once she finished placing various equipment in a tub labelled ‘autoclave’, she escorted you to the front desk. You paid half the decided fee of the tattoo and booked your second session for three weeks’ time. Eivor gave you an aftercare kit, explaining in detail how to keep the tattoo clean, how to prevent infection, and to avoid direct exposure to sunlight as much as you could. Eagerly, you listened, trying to drink in as much of her voice as possible before departing.

“I’ll see you in three weeks, then. Take care, (Y/N),” she grinned. From the moment you stepped out of the shop, you knew that grin would be engraved into your mind for the weeks to come.

  The second appointment couldn’t have come quickly enough.

You spent an embarrassing quantity of time thinking about your dreamy tattoo artist, right up until the day you walked back into the shop, this time free of any concerns pertaining to the tattoo. The gentleman from before recognised you and asked how the tattoo was holding up, if you’d had any issues keeping it clean, to which you replied all was good. Only this time, Eivor came to greet you by the front desk.

“How’s it going?” she asked, welcoming as before.

“Really good. I just hope I’ve been doing everything right,” you chuckled, anxiously glancing down at your thigh. The redness had completely disappeared a few days after your first appointment, the black ink proudly meandering over your skin.

Eivor smiled reassuringly. “Trust me, you’d know if you haven’t. From here it looks like you’ve done a fantastic job of keeping it clean, anyway.” You followed her to her studio, mentally noting how she was wearing an even tighter black t-shirt than last time, the fabric clinging to the defined contours of her muscled back, biceps, abs… Needless to say, the gay thoughts had returned at full-force.

As before, she shaved and disinfected your thigh, but instead of a stencil she had the full greyscale reference images for the design printed and taped to a metal beam above her table. She took careful time in diluting various caps of black ink into a plethora of greys, experience shining through as she added precise amounts of diluter to each cap. There was something addictive about watching the woman work, with how methodical she was, how delicately she handled the bottles of ink.

When she unpacked a needle, you noted the shape was different to before. “Now, some parts are gonna be only a little rougher than before. Others will suck, I’ll warn you now,” she mentioned as you positioned yourself on the chair.

“Mama didn’t raise a bitch,” you joked. Eivor laughed.

“You handled it like a trooper before. I have zero doubts you’ll do the same today.”

And so she began, making multiple passes with the machine unlike before, packing in the different shades of grey in front of her, scratching into the already broken skin. It wasn’t massively painful, but Eivor was right – last time was a breeze in comparison. You rested your eyes and bore the pain, focusing on the faint music playing from the shop’s reception.

As previously, she was ever considerate, checking up on you as she worked – albeit not as frequently, now that you were accustomed to the needles – and encouraging you through the nastier patches. You tried your hardest to not look at your thigh, wanting the final result to be a surprise, but over time it grew increasingly difficult not to sneak a glance at her hands. Merely the thought of them flustered you (pathetic, you knew) and nothing would be more embarrassing than drifting off into a less than appropriate fantasy about the woman when she was simply being professional.

Time blurred together amongst your inner dilemma – to look or not to look – until Eivor’s signature rasp caught your attention. “Time for your least favourite part,” she said, giving you a knowing look, positioning her needle in one of the petals over the area that hurt like a bitch previously.

“Oh god, I forgot about that area.”

“Just own the pain and keep still, alright?”

“I’ll try.”

Eivor smirked: a wicked thing that could have killed every sapphic in a mile radius. “Squirm and I’ll pin you down. I’ve had to do it before, and I’ll do it again.”

That, under different circumstances, would be an appealing notion.

Closing your eyes once more, you tried to decipher the song lyrics resonating through the shop’s hall, grimacing when the needle penetrated the skin. Just focus on Rihanna, focus on Rihanna…

“That’s…not so bad, actually,” you mutter, not entirely self-assured of the words leaving your lips, hoping some placebo affect would take place.

Eivor chuckled, dipping into another shade. “You sound convincing,” she drawled.

“I’m – ow – serious… Okay fuck, that’s way worse.”

“Shh, it’ll be over soon. Find something to focus on.”

So you did, on what happened to be the first thing in your immediate line of sight when you re-opened your eyes: Eivor’s bicep. God, her shirt strained around the muscle, black fabric against tanned skin and the deep green runes littering her arm. Perhaps the ink had something to do with her ancestry, given that the woman said she was Norwegian – that or she was just a mythology nerd. Your eyes trailed over the spirals of script, the perfectly concentric circles. Mind wandering, the idea that she may have tattoos on her back and front piqued your interest. Then came the delightful image of Eivor without a shirt. Pinning you down. Fuck.

Before long the pain subsided, leaving a dull ache where the needle had worked at your skin. “All done, darling,” Eivor murmured, wiping the patch. Darling. You knew it was simply her bedside manner, trying to keep you as relaxed as possible, but damn was it having the polar opposite effect. Cheeks feeling impossibly hot, you unscrewed the cap of your bottle and took a sizeable gulp of water. She gave you a moment to breathe, now that the most difficult part was out of the way. Still flustered, you drained half your bottle.

Concern plastered on her face, Eivor leaned closer, inspecting your face intently. “Are you feeling faint?” she asked, evidently worried. “It’s important you tell me if you are—”

“No, no, I’m fine, really.” You were stuttering, annoyed with yourself that you made her worry. “Just being weird. I promise.”

“You do?” Her eyebrows were still upturned, not entirely believing you.

You nodded frantically. “Yeah, really. Please don’t worry.”

Taking a slow breath, she restarted the machine, relief flashing across her features. She gestured for permission to continue tattooing, which you granted, and set back to work.

Cursing internally, you let your eyes flutter shut, thoughts full of nothing but ‘good girls’ and ‘darlings’ in a husky Norwegian accent. Numbing yourself to the needles, you drifted off into slumber.

  “Hey, (Y/N)?”

A gentle pressure squeezed at your hand, slowly stirring you, bringing you back to the world of the living. Yawning, you opened your eyes, gaze brought to a gloved hand atop your own.

“Good evening,” Eivor said, retracting her hand and watching as you gasped and scanned the studio for a clock in a panic. Evening?

“Kidding,” she laughed. “I finished up ten minutes ago.” You shot her a half-hearted glare through sleepy eyelids.

“That was mean,” you pouted. She grinned.

“I do stab people for a living.”

Snorting, you swung your legs over the side of the chair, stretching them to regain a semblance of sensation. Chest pounding with excitement, you looked to the mirror at the side of the room, then at Eivor, silently asking permission to peak at the finished tattoo. She held out her hand in gesticulation.

Giddy with anticipation, you walked over and… Holy shit.

It was beautiful.

Each shade of grey blended into one another in a perfect harmony, so seamlessly that the black outline from before was barely visible. The shadows underneath each leaf, each petal looked real. Every speckle and wrinkle on the petals shone through, love and attention going into every marking. The falling petals were akin to a photograph, with the light grey background wash tying them to the main flowers, each little shadow appearing to give them different depths. It was beyond anything you imagined. All that pain, mental and physical, turned into a lifetime of beauty.

You didn’t realise you were crying until the salt of tears rolled into your awe-parted mouth.

“I’m, well… Wow.” Beaming, you turned to face your artist, who looked at her artwork with pride. “Thank you, Eivor. Thank you so much.”

She shook her head and offered you a box of tissues, from which you took one gladly. “I’m just honoured to have helped you lay that chapter of your life to rest. May the sword-lilies battle any shreds of it that remain.”

Stunned by her poetic inclination, you dried your eyes in silence, lips curved into a joyous smile. Meanwhile, she removed her gloves.

“You have tissues at the ready. I’m guessing people cry a lot here?” you asked, finally prying your eyes away from the masterpiece on your thigh.

“Mostly from the pain,” she remarked.

“You know, you could just lie to me so I don’t feel like such a fucking sap.”

The sound that left Eivor’s mouth in response was nothing if not angelic. She practically howled in hearty laughter, echoing through her studio, her eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t think it possible for your grin to widen further still, but her outburst was contagious in the best way.

“I’m glad you’re happy with it. Truly,” she breathed out, chest stilling from her fit.

“It’s beautiful. Happy is an understatement.”

Eivor made her way over to the desk in the corner of the studio, where a graphics tablet lay alongside a stylus. “Now, before I dress it, I’m legally required to ask you if I have permission to photograph the tattoo for advertisement purposes. I appreciate it’s a personal subject matter and completely understand if—”

“Go for it,” you shrugged.

“Are you certain?” You nodded.

“Of course. It’s a work of art.” The smile she gave you was genuine.

“This’ll only take a minute. Thank you, really.”

She knelt down and snapped a picture with the tablet, checking the quality. “All done.” Eivor then proceeded to sanitise her hands and slip on one last pair of gloves, grabbing the wipes and plastic wrap from her station. “The photo will be uploaded to the shop’s website and my professional Instagram, if that’s alright with you. Completely anonymous, of course.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Although, it’ll be weird seeing my leg on my feed.” She chuckled.

“Feel free to email or DM if you have any concerns with the healing.” Patting your leg, she stood up to her full height, placing her gloves in a biohazard ziplock. “Well, I’m honoured to have given you your first tattoo.”

“Honoured to be your…canvas?”

And just like that, your time with the artist was up. You watched wistfully as she put together an aftercare pack at the front desk, your previously overjoyed expression drifting into a sad one. After paying, you thanked her one final time.

“Take care, søta,” she said with a wink.

The very moment you arrived back home, you whipped out a Norwegian-to-English translator and immediately tried to replicate her pronunciation of the word she called you, blushing profusely when discovering it meant ‘cutie’. And upon opening your cleaning pack, you found an addition that wasn’t present in your previous bundle:

A small slip of paper. On one side, a mobile number. On the other, in beautifully neat cursive,

I’d love to take you to dinner. Text me if you’re interested?

Yours, Eivor

[cowboyjen68]

Have you ever met a political lesbian/lesbian separatist in the flesh?

Yes to both. To be clear.. the definition I know/use for a political lesbian is a woman who might be bi or straight but has chosen to only date/be in a relationship/friendships and or intimate with only other women.

 In my experience they were known in their personal circles to not be a lesbian but used lesbian to describe themselves to the greater world in order to NOT be questioned by men. Saying "I am straight but have chosen to only be with women" could open them up to danger when men decide they can "get her back" or "prove she needs them" etc..

Basically.. everyone in their “community” knew the truth but for those not in the lesbian circles it was none of their business. I never got the impression that they used “lesbian” because they felt entitled or to “fool” lesbians into dating them. Most of them were partnered when I met them (still know a few) so the one person who needed to know their sexuality.. did.

A few of the relationships where more like partnerships. An older couple, one lesbian, one not who co habitat to enjoy the company and often non sexual intimacy of another woman but with no expectation of shared sexuality. Sometimes kids from a hetro marriage were the focus. A lesbian home/relationship was a safe haven for the straight woman and her kids and while a sexual relationship with the two women were implied to others, there was no guarantee they were anything but housemates or co parents. These relationships tended to end, mutually, once the kids are grown, and everyone is on their feet. A few I know stayed in the home they shared but dated others until it was comfortable and safe to part. 

“Political Lesbian” was sort of a thing held close, only between friends and social circles. There was no reason to tell anyone outside of that circle. In fact many reasons to NOT let the world know the sexuality of a  woman within the folds of the lesbian world. 

There were(and are) political lesbians who write about their experiences or who are vocal about their true orientation and I supposed it depends on their intention. If it is to encourage women to be honest about their sexuality before dating women (lesbians) that is good. If it is to sort of “prove” that women’s sexuality can bend or be tweaked at will for the sake of happiness or safety that is not good. Being IN a lesbian relationship does NOT change a sexuality. 

Lesbian separatists are definitely not all political lesbians, in my experience, although I have seen them used interchangeable in writing and on the internet. Most of the women I have met who use lesbian separatist use it to describe how they have chosen to live their life as lesbians. 

It does not always mean they live on some back wood land in the middle of nowhere and refuse any contact with men at all. It is more often the conscious and meaningful decision to use and support lesbians (or women in general) in all possible aspects of life. From who they hire to where they shop and who they spend time with. Most lesbian separatists I know have relationships with their brothers, fathers, sons, gay men from younger days and others in their lives and they love their male family members. BUT they live in such a way to avoid close contact with men outside of that circle. They back their feelings with their buck. Hiring women, purchasing from lesbian businesses etc even if the cost if higher. Or reusing or doing things themselves when only men are around to do the labor. 

When you are around lesbian/LGBT circles (and I am VERY social) for almost 30 years like me you met lots of people and from lots of backgrounds and with a myriad of life experiences. I like it that way. 

Variety teaches me.