Two emos, their alternative styles a stark contrast to their delicate features, lock eyes. A silent understanding passes between them. They're alone, their shared disdain for societal norms bonding them. One girl, her tongue pierced, takes charge. She forces her lover onto her back, pinning her wrists above her head. Her tattooed hands roam, tracing patterns on her lover's skin, igniting sparks of pleasure. She leans in, her breath hot on her lover's ear, "You're mine, little dyke."