authors note: I don't even know what I'm doing back so soon, but this has been on my mind for a while, as has every other fic I'm in the process of writing D: Anyway, this will be short I still don't know how many chapters, but just let me know if you're in to it. I'll be posting the other fic I've been preparing probably after this but until I've finished planning the other (because I really want to get every detail right) I'll give you this to sink your teeth in.

p.s the at sign in front of the twitter names doesn't show up, but if you use twitter you'll know what I mean. Also updating will be slow at first because I'm such an unorganised twit.

summary: It isn't an addiction to porn necessarily, it's a slow evolving infatuation for the girl in front of the camera. Nobody has ever caught Santana's attention like this and after recently realising her flaming homosexuality she's unable to get this girl off her mind. Unfortunately the girl lives in another state and what's even more unfortunate - the girl is an adult star.

disclaimer: I do not own Glee or it's characters.

I'm a junior. What does that even mean? So I can't drink publicly yet or vote, but I'm still able to get breast implants. How is that right? It's my fault though, obviously. It was impulsive. My father's credit card was whispering devilishly to me to take it. Once I had it I wasn't sure what to buy. A new skirt or fur vest would have been the normal option for a girl like me, but summer surgery on my averagely large chest wasn't something girls my age should even be thinking about.

Nobody would even notice anyway, except of course my parents who wouldn't stop lecturing me about the consequences of getting tit implants at a young age. They accepted it though, eventually. After I told them it was for myself and not anyone else they just dropped it.

I'm sure no one at school will even pay attention to my chest, not unless Sue sees my melons bobbling up and down in cheerios practice. She has eyes like a hawk. Of course she would notice. Then she would kick me off the team for promoting unhealthy adolescent behaviour. I don't even think the squad would care what negative outburst Sue would scream at me. The squad admires me, I'm like their Oprah. I still shouldn't have done this.

I bet Brittany doesn't even have breast implants. Her boobs are small but perfect, not that I looked. I focused more on the sounds she would make. I want to be one of those girls so desperately. Well not really, because my parents would kill me, but I want to be someone she worked with - off screen.

I recently came out at school as bi sexual. The last party I went to we played truth or dare and my boyfriend at the time Puck dared me to hook up with this other cheerleader for three minutes. Apparently I got really into and even tried to unhook her bra. So after that, I just started letting people know, mostly guys, that they better watch out because I might steal their girlfriends. Puck laughed and said that he satisfied me too much so I would just come back to him in the end. But we haven't had sex in three weeks and the aching sensation in my thighs tells me I need someone, fast.

I did leave out the small detail of realising I was a lady lover after watching my first dose of lesbian porn. Brittany S. Pierce is a visionary and the love of my life.

It isn't an addiction to porn necessarily, it's a slow evolving infatuation for the girl in front of the camera.

I'd never tell Puck I had to watch porn before we had sex just to get horny because his callous hands and humongous beak never succeeded in getting my lady loins buzzing.

I cradled a picture of my beloved Brittany in my hand as I approached my drawers. I grabbed some blu tac and stuck the photo on the inner wall of the drawer. Nobody would see it. My mom wouldn't notice hopefully because she always shoves clean underwear in my drawer without paying attention to whether the drawer is full or not. I grab my phone and click on the twitter app before laying down on my bed.

"Santana if you're not down in 2 minutes I won't be taking your butt to school!" My mom called out. I sighed and sat up. The page had loaded and all I wanted to do was check her twitter. She always tweeted the funniest one liners, I'd love to be her friend. But then again, I don't think we would get along. Sometimes she can say really weird stuff and being the realist I am, I don't think our friendship would last long.

I blindly zip my school bag up as I scroll down her page. Yep, just more weird tweets. Suddenly one catches my eye.

Brittany S. Pierce MissBrittanyPierce
Quick Q&A? GO!

I groaned dramatically. Of course she did a Q&A last night when I wasn't online. I quickly clicked on the fans that asked her questions, opening them all in a new tab. Then I locked my phone and ran downstairs. My mom was applying lip stick in the front seat as I got into the car.

"What took you so long?" She asked with a light chuckle. I smiled awkwardly and reached for my seatbelt.

"I was brushing my hair," I replied lamely. My mother quirked an eyebrow at me in suspicion. "What's for dinner tonight?" I ask, changing the subject before she can interrogate me.

"Dad is bringing home take out after work if he remembers, otherwise we'll be eating out."


When we arrive in the parking lot I turn to my mother with the biggest puppy dog eyes I can form. "You won't be needing the car this weekend will you?"

My mom squirmed in her seat at the thought of me driving to some party and getting wasted. I wouldn't try and drive home though, my mom knows I'm responsible no matter how badass I try and act. The cheerios worship my badass facade

"What are you planning to do this weekend?" She asks inquisitively.

"Just hanging out with some of the squad probably. There is bound to be a party happening."

My mom sighed, "All right, all right. Jeez I should have gotten you a car on your 16th birthday."

"And why didn't you?"

"Same reason I didn't get you a pony on your 6th birthday. You wouldn't know how to take care of it." I rolled my eyes and we both laughed. I kissed my mom's cheek and headed into school. This morning was going to be so boring. I have history and hardly anyone I know is in my class. I should really ask Principle Figgins to change classes.

I pull out my phone as soon as I find my seat and click the first tab. One girl named PokerinthefrontLiquorintheba ck asked if Brittany likes to receive gifts. Brittany replied 'Only if that gift is a nice wet pussy.' I choked on my own spit as I swallowed and Mrs. Hagberg looked at me concerned. I sent her a 'not to worry' smile and slid down further in my chair.

BushPig201 PolaroidPicture Pierceisfierce69 all asked if Brittany would ever have a threesome. My thighs tingled at the thought of it. Brittany said 'For work yes, but in my real life I like to treasure one girl.'

I could feel myself blushing. Most other girls reading probably felt the same. Is this jealous I'm feeling right now? God, she is so sweet. Wait, her reply made it seem like she has a girlfriend. Yep, definitely jealousy. God damn, whoever her girlfriend is she is one lucky girl. Maybe if I tweet her she'll reply to me too. I never wanted to before because I'm scared she won't tweet me back and I'll look like an idiot. But if it's a question then she has to answer right?

Santana Lopez LimaHeightsBitch
MissBrittanyPierce Would you give up your profession if you fell in love with a girl who was against what you do?

I send the tweet and feel a warm rush through my entire body. Why am I so nervous? Well I did just tweet the girl of my dreams for the first time after being such a coward for so long. I don't feel sick, but I do feel a little light headed. My phone slips out of my hand and I wince as it hits the ground. "Shit," I curse to myself, hoping no one around is paying attention.

I lean down to reach for my phone but a large shoe steps on it, covering it. "What the hell?" I spat. This person needs to get their damn smelly show off my phone. I look up and am about to curse in Spanish when my eyes widen.

"Miss. Lopez, you know I hate phones in class. I'll be confiscating this until the end of the day."

"No!" I almost scream and the class stare at me weirdly. "I mean, please, don't do this, you don't underst-"

"No, you don't understand Miss. Lopez. I have the power in here. I don't care where you're from and what's hiding in your hair. You can live without your phone for a few hours."

Crap. No. She can't do this to me. Not right now. What if my beloved tweets back? Am I about to cry over my phone? Get yourself together Lopez, come on.

Turns out a few hours means almost an entire day. I visited Mrs. Hagberg after last period and asked, well begged, in the sweetest voice I could muster if I could have my phone back. She didn't even blink an eyelid. She just told me not to disturb her when she's grading tests. I huffed and walked to Cheerios practice and thank god I had that to keep me occupied.

If I had nothing to do after class I would have ended up watching the hag grade tests. I would rather have her give me detention the whole week.

There is my laptop at home which I could always check Twitter on. That's if my parents would let me actually go on it again. Apparently I spend more time blogging about the hardships of being a teenager than I do studying and learning. So my punishment - no computer for two weeks. Thank god they don't know phones have internet.

Coach is screaming at the freshman Cheerios through her megaphone. She always rants to us about her life as a farmer back in Massachusetts was harder than this petty routine. The routine involved flaming batons and massive head gear that did everything but cover our face from the flames.

Once we finished practice I ran to the showers and soaked under the hot water. None of the girls would shower near me because they were clearly jealous of my physique. Either that or they didn't want to catch my 'lesbian disease'. I heard some of them whisper that to each other when I walked to my locker one day. Let's just say they have a new favourite slushy flavour - pain.

Since no one is in the vicinity to hear me or work out what I'm doing, I decide to have a little fun. I close my eyes, place my hand between my legs and start rubbing - all the while thinking of Brittany.

She likes to use her fingers to tease the other girls skin a lot. She prefers four play, I noticed and doesn't let the video end without giving the other girl at least 6 orgasms. I tried to do that to myself once but I got tired after one. I'm not if it even was an orgasm. Now that I think about it I don't think I've ever had one. Puck certainly didn't satisfy to the point of me screaming out to the god's above. I'm sure if Brittany was my girlfriend she would be able to give me one every 10 minutes because that's all we would be doing. Unless she's a romantic - then we would go to the cinema, take a walk on the pier and listen to smooth jazz when we wake up and have breakfast.

After cleaning myself up, I put on some sweatpants and a singlet top and head down to Mrs. Hagberg's classroom. How is this woman still here? I'm sure she has a somewhat attractive husband to go home too and a few kids aged between 20 and 25 who love her dearly and miss her home cooked meals when she's working all these hours.

"Uh, can I ple-"

"Here," she interrupts, handing me my phone without looking up. I reach forward but she snatches it back.

"I don't want to see you tapping away viciously at this thing next class you got it?" I nod quickly and then take my phone. I fling my bag over my shoulder and run outside to wait for my mom.

When we got home I raced out of the car and noticed my dad gardening. "Chinese is on the bench," he shouts with a wave. I thank him and run inside. I pass the kitchen bench, grab a noodle box and race upstairs. I don't know why my heart is beating so fast. Scratch that, I know exactly why. I pace across my room with my phone in hand.

What if she doesn't reply? Well I can just tweet her until she does reply. No, wait, that's totally stalking and she'll probably file some sort of legal shit against me. She might block, oh god what if she blocks me. I'll have to go on Quinn's account and subtly look at Brittany's tweets. Quinn's cool with me being bi sexual, even though she knows I'll eventually come out as a full blown flannel wearing lesbian. What's with that stereotype anyway? Flannel is gross and Brittany never wears flannel unless she has to do some scene at a farm where she fucks a girl senseless on a hay barrel.

Moving on. I unlock my phone and notice I have an email. I check that first because it's probably just some freaky chain mail shit. When I click into the email my heart stops. Brittany replied to me.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, balls, fuck, shit, crap, balls, fuck -

"Santana how are your noodles?" My dad asks on the other side of the door.

"Shi- Awesome, I love em," I reply lamely and slouch down on my bed. I hear him walk away and I peer down at my phone again. I click out of Hotmail and tap into Twitter. I go onto my profile and scroll past my awesome description to where Brittany's reply is.

Brittany S. Pierce MissBrittanyPierce
LimaHeightsBitch In a heartbeat.

I dropped my phone and flew back on my bed. My hands covered my face to contain the squeals coming out of my mouth so that my parents don't think I'm choking on a noodle. This isn't a dream, this is happening. Brittany S. Pierce, the love of my life, replied to me.