Faye’s Blogg

21 years of age

sapphic slut & sweetheart

i love poetry, women with sexy arms, baby deer, smells, sex, vintage lingerie, ethel cain and all things pretty.

mmmasterlist

THIS IS AN 18+ SAPPHIC BLOG

CIS MEN AND MINORS DNI

meds don’t put me to sleep i jsut get stupid

lowkey intox but im taking care of myself and being good and taking my meds

i don’t think Adaline knew she was my awakening. she was in a way at least. i knew i was queer from a very early age, but once i was a full fledged teenager, i was swept up by boys. boys and their comments on my body. how they speak about me. how can i be better for them? how can i shrink? i describe my attraction to men as a fawn response to patriarchal society- as embarrassing as that may be. the women in my town intimidated me in a very different way than the boys. i had gone through puberty at an early age, but still somehow felt underdeveloped compared to them. around the girls no longer did i want to shrink, i wanted to rise to their level. the girls in my town smoked marlboro reds and drank and bought drugs in parking lots. and there was me. i didn’t smoke and i hardly drank. i drew them in with my crafted outfits and salon dyed hair, but turned them off with my rigidity and anxiety. so then i watched them. a watchful eye that didn’t know was longing. i watched them. i watched while i was taken in by a man who wanted nothing but to twist my brain to mush. for six years. six years i knew nothing but him. and i knew nothing about him. more off than on. no love between us. just fucked and dismissed. my attraction was mainly muscle, fear and the familiarity of being hurt. he chipped away at me so quietly. i got space away from him when i went to college. we would hookup on breaks and it would end in a coldness that felt indescribable and unspeakable. he destroyed parts of me i thought i’d never get back.

i met Adaline a year after i saw my ex for the last time. she sat in the front right corner of the small classroom, closest to the professor. she had just transferred to the university after taking a gap year- one year after she got out of rehab. there she sat. all tied up inky hair and white teeth. so certain of herself. she showed everyone her tattoos and chapsticks. she’d say lesbian with such certainty. it would roll off her tongue like it was nothing. she carried herself so openly. she didn’t shrink herself like i did. she was magnetic.

she sized me up so sweetly. my $2 tights and vintage slips. my eyebags and my pills. did she know i was all for her? the first day of class i sat towards the back. the second day i sat three chairs away from her. then two then one and a half. we quickly became a pair. pestering the professor on our human theories, leading class discussions. i came to class for her. i dressed up like myself again for her. no more disappearing into baggy t-shirts and sweats. i felt more like myself the more i talked to her. we would ride the bus together discussing perfumery and old houses. our home would be beautiful, she would tell me. stained glass windows, tiffany lamps and wood. some days she’d sit right next to me. she’d lean in and i’d notice how she smelled like book paper and petrichor. other days she’d put her backpack between us. she would talk about her love interests. isabella. danielle. kate. i would size them all up. they were like me. femme, short, afraid. every bus ride i’d make small advances at her. i’d compare her to beautiful celebrities and listen as she droned on about something uninteresting. i’d watch her mouth. her chapped lips. i’d brush an eyelash off of her face if i felt bold enough. i’d come back and tell my friends everything that happened. most days i’d be confused and a little devastated and others i’d be certain she liked me. i was utterly consumed by her. Adaline. Ad-a-line. i write in lower caps except her name. Adaline. i promised my friends by the end of the semester i’d tell her how consumed i was by her. then i didn’t. i knew i wasn’t on her level, she knew it too. i still talked to my abuser, she had left hers years ago. she was remission. i was still sick. three years older than me. i still remained straight and nineteen. the summer went by and she told me all about her hookups. how they didn’t understand partnership like i did. the air still felt like me and her for a while. then came some unidentified point where we realized we were friends. not prospects.

maybe this realization was only my own. maybe she never liked me like that, but it doesn’t matter now. i still love her, but in a reformed way. she looks out for me like a big sister and i let her. she tells me i need to be meaner. i listen to her talk. i don’t know if she ever saw me how i saw her, but i think we served a purpose for each other. i was her first friend in her new college town & she made me realized how i can be. i love by noticing every detail and loving every bit. no longer did love have to feel shrinking and submissive. i cultivate partnership, not transforming myself into a perfect thing to be owned. i stopped hiding. i became more myself for her and i remain that way, now for myself.

she had been asking you for days now. “baby pleaseeee! i can handle it i swear to god just let me please?” you had only been denying her this out of not wanting to suffocate your sweet girlfriend, but it turns out she’s more persistent than you are. “i don’t know why you’re so worried about hurting me. i’ll be fine! you’re not gonna crush me, baby. please??” she would whine to you, promising to make you feel good. eventually her promises were enough reassurance that you let her. she was ecstatic, grinning up at you stupidly. she kneeled and took your pants off as you hovered over her. “i’ll tap your thigh if it’s too much, okay?” she assured you, knowing that it won’t be. you nodded as she gently kissed the wet spot on your panties that formed from her earlier pleads, abby covered your thighs and tummy with sweet kisses before starting, the way she always did before sex. once her kind ritual was finished, her demeanor shifted. she roughly tugged off your underwear, “so wet…” she whispered to herself, “you like when i beg for you, baby?” she began lapping at your cunt. she tugged your thighs down roughly “fuckin put your weight on me.” lap lap lap lap “there you go. that’s a good girl.” she moaned against you, switching between tongue fucking your hole and swirling her tongue around your clit, gently sucking at the bud. she only went faster the more you moaned for her. when you tried to shift your weight, once again she tugged down your hips forcing you to sit on her face. as punishment for moving away from her she went even faster. the mix of your slick and her spit filled the room with filthy sounds, only encouraging abby further. she looked up at you through her eyelashes, watching your expression as she slurped at your wetness, knowing you were about to come. your hips stuttered as you came undone all over her face. but she didn’t stop there, she held your hips down, licking up the fluid of your orgasm until you had enough. she pulled back with a loud breath, a smirk on her face.

“stop smiling.” you laughed.