If I had a nickel every time I heard Jemma Redgrave headcannon a character she's played as a girl kisser i'd have two nickels which isn't a lot but its weird it happened twice
A half-smoked joint dangled between Jenny’s fingertips, and, careful not to disturb the brunette in her apparent fascinated exploration of her chest, Jenny tapped off the ash into the glass tray on the carpet next to their couch. “Do you want to take another drag of the joint?” she repeated her question, using her free hand to stroke through Diana’s unruly bangs lazily.
The kisses paused. “I’m not quite sure I’ll be able to manage,” the brunette frowned, beautifully confused, “I’m frightfully busy at the moment.”
warnings/tags: Kinktober 2025, Fluff and Smut, Recreational Drug Use, Weed Smoking, Shotgunning, Sexual Inexperience, Post-Movie, Soft sex, Body Worship
word count: 2,9k
an: I've been writing a little bit for Kinktober and thought these two deserve the softest future, so we're diving a bit into that! [ao3 link]📌
+ masterlist + rules + The Jemma Redgrave Character Fanfic Collection🌿 reposts and comments are much appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3
Diana often dreamed that she was flying, that she could feel the wind rushing between her spread fingers, that she was carried through the air and wind with an ease within her that lifted her up and high and higher, leaving the ground and all that tried to keep her down behind her while she floated, flew, sailed and soared into a blurred watercolour blue horizon.
She never thought about where she was going—only that she was free of weight, free of thought, just drifting on a wistful sigh too long to ever end, her hair floating while she burst through the clouds. She would laugh, spinning slowly, falling without sinking, and she’d think, yes, this is how it should have always been, just that tender, dizzy feeling of belonging to the air.
Sometimes she thought she could almost taste the light of the moon, cool and silver, slipping down her throat until she was nothing but shimmer and breath, a breeze herself instead of long limbs, a heavy heart, a body filled with memories.
Now she wondered if Jenny knew how to fly, too, if her body had been dipped into the mist of her dreamland, leaving a lingering taste of stardust that tingled on Diana’s lips as she kissed the gentle slope of Jenny’s breasts. Jenny tasted and smelled like air, like a cloud that Diana wanted to bite into and let the sweet rain of it drip into her mouth and spill over her lips. Her tongue traced the curve of the tender flesh of what she never dared herself to appreciate on any other body than her own, what she thought forbidden, sinful, too alluring to be anything but a test of her strength of will.
With Jenny’s deep breath, Diana felt herself rise again, carried upward into the sky, and when that breath fell away, the chest beneath her cheek and mouth and the warmth beneath her hands and fingers lowered her gently, setting her down like a feather finding its way home.
“Do you want another hit, honey?”
The movement as Diana lifted her head was sluggish and slow, her big brown eyes beautifully unfocused and hooded, and Jenny wanted to get lost in the dark hazel. Diana blinked, her bottom lip still shining in the slickness of her spit. She had been peppering kisses onto Jenny’s chest, entirely unresponsive to the music she had requested to play on the old gramophone, her sole focus on the task of kissing and exploring every inch of skin her mouth could reach without adjusting her position even slightly.
“What?” she asked a little dreamily, her head tipping forward and snapping back like one of those wooden birds Jenny’s therapist had in her office. Then it sank again, and Jenny felt lips traverse across her right breast again in the same uncontrolled and thoughtless pattern of wet heat.
A half-smoked joint dangled between Jenny’s fingertips, and, careful not to disturb the brunette in her apparent fascinated exploration of her chest, Jenny tapped off the ash into the glass tray on the carpet next to their couch. “Do you want to take another drag of the joint?” she repeated her question, using her free hand to stroke through Diana’s unruly bangs lazily.
The kisses paused. “I’m not quite sure I’ll be able to manage,” the brunette frowned, beautifully confused, “I’m frightfully busy at the moment.”
Jenny grinned, biting back a comment how English she sounded whenever they broke into their stash. Instead, she brushed a few loose strands of hair from Diana’s face, fingers combing back the golden wisps until her palm rested against her cheek. “How about this…I take a hit—” she ran the tip of her thumb over Diana’s upper lip, tracing the cupid bow, “and you only have to keep your pretty mouth open and breathe with me. Would you like that, princess?”
Diana’s face lit up, the corners of her mouth curling into a wide smile that was all breath and wonder. “Oh, I do!” she exclaimed, her voice lilting and airy. “I would like that so very much, please.”
It was easy enough for Diana to admit that she was drawn to Jenny—more deeply than she had ever been to Oliver, and in a way that felt entirely new.
But allowing herself to follow that feeling, to let it become something more than gentle touches and held hands, was anything but simple. The thought alone sent a tremor through her, not of fear that she realised had shivered through her at Oliver’s innuendos and nudges for his excitement at the wedding night that shall never be, but of awe, like standing at the edge of something vast and luminous.
There was still a hesitance that weighed her down and held her back most days, one that she slowly but surely overcame. In nights like these, where the LA car lights flitted through the sheer curtains that would always let a source of light in, and Diana watched with rapt attention as Jenny’s lips curled around the stem of the joint, she thought she was doing just fine.
Diana eagerly pressed herself closer, holding herself up by one sharp elbow on the throw pillows, and untangled her legs from Jenny’s to pull them further up. Situated in a more seated position with her knees on either side of Jenny’s hips (and heavens, there was surely something to be said about the softness of women’s bodies, all the curves and creamy flesh), Diana’s stray thoughts focused as hard as she could on leaning in towards Jenny’s face, even though coherency and concentration trickled through her like sand between her fingers on Santa Monica’s beach.
She barely registered the near forehead-collision Jenny avoided by tilting her head, because then Jenny’s nose bumped against hers, and dry lips brushed hers. They parted her lips and hot smoke trickled into Diana’s mouth. Her skin was buzzing, her limbs heavy and yet weightless, and when Diana accidentally exhaled the thick, foggy smoke through her nose, she believed she would have floated away if it weren’t for Jenny’s warm hand on her lower back. She felt the soothing motions through her chemise, all the heat of Jenny’s body underneath her, and the room spun, twisted around her.
All that Diana could see were Jenny’s blue and hazel eyes. She saw her own reflection, the dilated pupils, the slightly matted fringe, and sweat glistening on the darkened, sticky fine hairs at her temple. She saw that fever of wanting that burned underneath her skin and low in her stomach. Jenny knew how to take care of her, how to hold her gently and love her softly, to stoke the heat of her curiosity with patience.
“Ah—might I have just one more?” Diana asked breathlessly, gaze darting between the two-coloured eyes crinkling around the edges. The illusion that she might have overstepped crossed her through the haze. Jenny had offered her one, and she hastened to lower her lashes, “Only if it’s not an imposition, of course.”
“I don’t mind, Di,” Jenny said softly, turning her head slightly to take another deep drag from the joint. The weed filled her lungs just as sweetly as the scent of Diana’s perfume in the morning, her shampoo after a shower, and she revelled as it hit her head while she stubbed out the joint in the tray. Then she turned back to the woman in her lap and framed her face with her hands.
“C’mere, pretty girl,” she murmured and exhaled. Almost entranced by it, Jenny watched the smoke pass through pink lips. She leaned in, overtaken by the need to taste Diana in any way that would be comfortable for the brunette, and pressed her mouth against hers.
Immediately, in a surprised gasp, Diana opened up, inhaling more smoke that clouded her sight—or maybe she just closed her eyes in delight—to answer the warm, dry kiss enthusiastically. Between kisses and kisses and kisses, she felt the vibration of Jenny’s ramble of words, “so pretty, the perfect doll, all pretty”, against her lips, and she preened at the compliment, fingers curling into Jenny’s shorter, dyed hair as she absentmindedly rocked closer.
Diana was starting to float again, though it was different from the dreams she had where she was the wind. This felt thicker, slower, as if she were at the bottom of a vast pool, trying to kick her way through the water instead of gliding easily through the air. Each jerking motion of her hips was a stroke against a current, the surface pulling her in, and there was this instinct to rise, to break through, to breathe the air above. But each time she reached for it, the light rippled farther away, teasing, retreating just beyond her fingertips.
“Jenny,” she murmured, exhaling hard through her nose and furrowing her brows in irritation.
Jenny immediately pulled away at the strain in Diana’s voice, the desperate agitation that shot clear through every bit of fog she had fallen into while kissing the brunette. “What is it, sweetie?” she asked, worry gnawing at her.
She had felt the restlessness, and with Diana, there was always the fear, the dread that what they had survived still dozed in the darkness, a lingering beast of drowsy nightmares that left her lover to spend many a night restless and terrified. At the start, she had interpreted the shifting as something positive, had felt the playful nudge of Diana’s tongue against hers, the arch in her back to press her breasts as close to Jenny’s as possible, but she hesitated, stressed she had been wrong.
A deep sound broke in two between Diana’s teeth. She looked up, and oh, no, it wasn’t terror that Jenny saw. Definitely not.
“Jenny,” she breathed out again, leaning in to rest her forehead against the raven-haired, who—instigated by that timid hunger in Diana’s eyes—started petting her face again. “Jenny, darling.”
Jenny felt the tremble of Diana’s jaw, the blood rushing in her cheeks, hollowing under her panting, the cheekbones and crinkled brow.
The brunette searched for her lips again, chasing after a kiss. “I—I feel all out of sorts,” she started, her thighs tensing up around Jenny’s hips, “There is this sort of flutter in me, terribly distracting and overwhelming.”
“A flutter, mhm?” Jenny hummed, grazing her teeth over Diana’s bottom lip, just shy of biting into it. No, Diana wasn’t to be marked through pain.
There was a sharp nod, one that nearly bashed Diana’s nose against Jenny’s.
One of Jenny’s hands wandered over the elegant curve of the brunette’s neck, feeling the stuttering pulse underneath the pads of her fingers as she lingered her hold there for a second. She moved further, admired Diana’s collarbones, strikingly clear beneath the soft sweep of her neck and couldn’t help but lean in for a quick kiss between them, before her hand brushed over the swell of Diana’s breasts beneath her nightgown, the stiff peaks of her nipples that caused the woman to whimper and roll her hips. Jenny’s hand pressed flat against Diana’s stomach, fingertips feeling the simmering heat just as much as where Diana’s core was rocking against her, though not inching further.
“Here?” Jenny asked, and Diana nodded again, flushed so much with this fever that the tips of her ears must have been alight.
“I hope this isn’t dreadfully forward of me,” Diana was sure she was already shaking from the near-stimulation there, rather than her boldness. These desires were still so new, making her feel giddy to explore them, while being doused in mortification every time she became aware of how much she could yearn for what should happen in a marital bed. Now, with the weed lifting her away from her anxiety, she stared deeply into Jenny’s eyes, “Would you mind…I should quite like to repeat—just as we did last time?”
The gramophone crackled and popped, the low music a faint noise over the “Anything for you, Di,” that Jenny murmured against begging lips.
Night tiptoed through the living room, its silver light tracing the length of Diana’s slim frame as she lifted her arms. The soft fabric of the chemise slid like water away under Jenny’s careful hands, and for a moment Diana stood still, her skin prickling, her auburn curls tumbling forward. Candlelight flickered across the room in dozens of small flames from the sticks and tea lights Diana had scattered around the couch this afternoon. Their glow moved over her skin, turning the faint sheen of sweat along her shoulders and neck to a golden shimmer, soft as honey in the light.
Jenny swore she felt it dissolve on her tongue.
Diana was of indescribable beauty, a goddess, really, that blushed in such pretty shades of pink and red because she had no idea how Jenny’s heart would stop and restart whenever Diana opened up and let Jenny see her this vulnerable. In wonder, Jenny’s hands followed the movement of Diana’s hands sinking, roaming along her arms, over breasts that lifted and dropped at every inhale and exhale.
She let her fingers dance over the brunette’s rips to her hips, nudging her to lie down again with a squeeze to her butt through the white slip; lace trim decorating the curve of Diana’s cheeks playfully yet modest enough that the woman blushed further as Jenny’s nail grazed over the trim, shuddered when palms cupped her bare skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jenny whispered, that same tone of awe rasping through her voice that always brought the sweetest reactions out of Diana; the unbelieving pull of her bottom lip through her teeth until white streaks marked the pink, the restless fiddling of agile fingers that would brush through her bangs or play with the collar of her elegant blouses.
Right now, naked except for her slip, Diana only closed her eyes and dove forward to capture Jenny in a kiss.
“You are too, darling,” she breathed against Jenny’s mouth, her lips tingling where they touched, all her sensations dialled up, yet at the same time the world seemed to be standing still.
“Aww, no, shush it you…my English rose,” Jenny moved along the bashful smile, kissing every inch of it from one corner to the other and further, before sucking right at the pressure point below Diana’s ear where it met her neck. “I want to worship you.”
All of Diana’s senses were heightened, her guards and walls down.
She thought only of how perfectly they seemed to fit, as if every place her body curved was answered by Jenny’s in return. Their breasts pushed together, shoulder against shoulder, the same air shared by two mouths, the slope of one wrist finding its rest against the other’s hand. It felt inevitable, almost designed, the way they settled into each other, and that everything clicked into place when Jenny’s leg slipped between hers and her thigh came into contact with Diana’s centre.
She felt woozy, dizzy, tittering out a gasp as her body stopped swimming against the current rushing through her blood, but was guided by it. The first jolt of her hips was clumsy, not the right angle, not what worked. Before her frustrations could become more than a puff of air against Jenny’s lips, the raven-haired rolled into her, against her, finding her halfway.
“Let go, princess,” Jenny murmured, breathing harshly into the corner of Diana’s mouth when Diana picked up on the rhythm, brushing her own leg between Jenny’s underwear where she ached for her lover.
Diana rocked forward, and Jenny’s breath hitched. She scrambled for a hold on Diana, settling for gripping at Diana’s shoulders as the brunette thrust forward again, into her. Every movement sent a thrill through Jenny, one arm falling from the sharp shoulder blades to wrap around Diana, adding pressure to press them closer together, impossibly close.
Her head swam, and she wouldn’t mind being suffocated, completely overwhelmed by Diana finding herself in this.
“Di,” Jenny let out a ragged moan, feverishly moving her head to kiss Diana’s face, the heated cheeks, the flutter of lashes and closed eyelids, the sweat that tasted like weed and that fancy crème she always put on.
Somehow, she managed to get a hand between their chests, feeling erratic heartbeats on both sides, and Diana keened, curved her spine when fingers tugged on her nipple.
In the blind hunger, Diana’s thigh tensed up, grinding into Jenny, and that was it for the dark-haired woman. Heat consumed her as she held onto Diana to ride out the euphoria of her climax, the weight of her lover on her dragging out wave after wave.
“Beautiful,” Jenny groaned, eyes rolling back
Diana couldn’t answer in anything but a wanton whimper, the air around her thickening, the flutter in her stomach building into a tremor, just like the one that had pressed her into the plane seat moments before lift off. The race over tarmac, her hips in a similar chase. Vibrations running through her legs, gathering in her chest. Everything shuddered, every shift and grind and roll. Her breath became thin, lighter, slipping away from her in quiet pants and chants of Jenny’s name. It was all so much, too much, enough to get her hips bucking desperately, desperate for friction as plea after plea spilt from her lips.
Her body hummed, pushed, dragged her steadily forward until there was a brief moment of vertigo—weightlessness as a confident push of Jenny’s thigh against her catapulted her into the hemisphere, and she was one with the skies again.
Floating.
Toes curling into throw pillows.
Flying.
Her hands grasping to hold onto Jenny.
Sailing.
Her heart and soul melting into the woman beneath her.
Soaring.
But this time she didn’t need to dream; she knew that tender, dizzy feeling wasn’t just flying, but landing. Arriving where she belonged.
Jemma Redgrave and the Multiverse of lesbians at Barn Pride 2022
I had time at the airport to fiddle but I really need to call it a day on this one. I might fix things later but for now I need to close this chapter so I can focus on other art and fics 😁 In spite of all the pixelation and line art vector issues, I’ve had so much fun drawing this!
Apparently none of the websites I use like the fact that I drew it on a 4K canvas though 😭😭😭 so much pixelation 😭😭😭 you can’t even see their heart eyes 😭
You can find the best version of the whole picture here otherwise imma have to just show you in person cause the internet hates me
As always please don’t share without permission or show/ send it to the actors ❤️
Procreate is being an absolute dose right now 🙄 Everything I resize turns pixelated so I haven't been able to get past the layout stage😭but I’m working on it. ATM it looks more like a mall than pride though 😂
THE PRIDE EDITION OF JEMMA REDGRAVE AND THE MULTIVERSE OF LESBIANS WILL BE COMPETE BEFORE PRIDE MONTH IS OUT! 🤞🏳️🌈
Jemma Redgrave and the multiverse of lesbians pride art update
@toomanyissues I saw your comment on one of my old asks earlier and thought I’d use it as an opportunity to do an update. This is the work in progress art the ask was referencing.
I’d welcome suggestions for Bernie’s jumper colour. ATM Berena is over here looking like Cosmo and Wanda. I’ve even considered giving her a flag cape just to cover the jumper😅
