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#but she needs her butch hair back
gaylittleguys · 5 months
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hey actually what was up with the artemis fowl series suddenly pivoting to make the grown adult woman a love interest for the teenage boy. like I’ve blocked everything after the first 4 books from my mind bc I hate them for many reasons but like. genuinely what the fuck.
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forgivenfolly · 3 months
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i keep thinking i need to give one of my wols a haircut but instead their hair just keeps getting longer help me
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gatheringbones · 6 months
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[“It was only after I came out as a dyke that, for the first time in my life, I felt ready to celebrate being a girl, and I did. Actually, I overdid. Armed with Esther Newton’s Mother Camp, Judith Butler’s Gender Trouble, and Joan Nestle’s A Restricted Country, I embraced femme. I dressed up in short flowery dresses, pushup bras, satin panties, and lacy stockings. I paid great attention to my long, curly, perfectly-coiffed hair, my glamorous makeup, and especially my pouty lips. I spritzed Lola’s smell on my skin—Estee Lauder’s Private Collection—and painted my nails. I wore all of it with black combat boots and a brilliant sense of irony. I reveled in my girliness, went over the top, learned how to tweeze my eyebrows and line my lips with a lip pencil.
My gender presentation was unmistakable: blatant female sexuality. I was a proud, in-your-face, take-no-prisoners, uppity, don’t-assume-I’m-straight-because-I-wear-lipstick-and-dresses femme dyke. Because femmes are always assumed to be straight or sleeping with men, and I do sleep with men, I made sure to always have a butch on my arm so I’d be read as femme. Even though I was sure I’d be mistaken for straight, the boys took one look at me and steered clear. It was as if I was too much of a woman for them to handle, like I was a handful, and I was. But butch girls love a handful—a handful of tits, a handful of ass, a girl who needs to be handled, a girl who can handle herself.
How I figured out I was a femme had a lot to do with the women I was attracted to and the dynamic between us. When I was in junior high, I used to mess around with a friend of mine named Angela. Angela was one of those girls who developed early; I remember she had big breasts in like sixth grade. We mostly kissed and touched over clothes, and we played out various boy-girl scenarios. I was always the girl—my early femme roots. My favorite of all our little scenes was the one where she was my male boss and I was the secretary. The boss made me have sex with him and told me if I didn’t I would get fired. Now this was all before Clarence Thomas, Anita Hill and the media awareness/obsession with sexual harassment. I remember she’d tell me to suck her dick and push my face unmercifully into her crotch, which smelled amazing,. The drama of it all—the force, the degradation, the power games—really got me off. After that, there was no going back to simplicity. I was hooked on the power.
Jen really epitomized all the girls I was attracted to then and still am. Being with a butch girl, I was valued for my combination of strength and vulnerability, for dressing up, for wanting an arm to hold onto, hips to wrap my legs around, being able to give my body over to her and say, I trust you, I’m yours. My butch loved me in low-cut dresses, appreciated my sexual voraciousness, worshipped my inner slut. I reveled in the fact that I could be strong and submissive all at once. Surrender and still be a feminist. Being a dyke is not just about who I fuck and love, it’s about being a girl who doesn’t play by the rules.
Butch girls don’t play by the rules either, and I love butch girls. Girls with hair so short you can barely slide it between two fingers to hold on. Girls with slick, shiny, barbershop haircuts and shirts that button the other way. Girls that swagger. Girls who have dicks made of flesh and silicone and latex and magic. Girls who get stared at in the ladies room, girls who shop in the boy’s department, girls who live every moment looking like they weren’t supposed to. Girls with hands that touch me like they have been touching my body their entire lives. Girls who have big cocks, love blow-jobs, and like to fuck girls hard. Every day, it is the girls that get called Sir that make me catch my breath, the girls with strong jaws that buckle my knees, the girls who are a different gender that make me want to lie down for them.
Someone else said it about me recently and it’s right on target: “She gets off on all different sorts of people sexually, but she falls for butches.” Like the poet who bought her first strap-on with me and then wanted to sleep with it on. The shrink-in-training who got harassed every time she drove down South. She did look so much like a fifteen-year-old boy: blue button-down shirts, neatly-combed blond hair. The ad exec who had names for her dildos and used to love for me to spit-shine her wingtips. The photographer whose face was so mannish she could pass almost anywhere. The writer who wanted a body like Loren Cameron’s. The telephone repairwoman who drove a truck. The cook who had a boy’s name. The academic who got cruised by gay men on Castro Street. The cornfed farmboy from the Heartland with arms so hard and strong you swear they’ve been working the land, not the iron at the gym.
And there’s the one who’s got the James Dean stare down, and dresses like a clean-cut fag, and looks at me like she could look at me forever and never blink or grow tired or move from the spot she’s in. She’s a girl who loves girls like me—girls in velvet bras, girls who want to surrender to her mouth. She’s a girl who isn’t afraid to throw a femme down on the bed and fuck her. Possess her. My kind of girl. This girl is different.”]
tristan taormino, from this girl is different, from a woman like that: lesbian and bisexual writers tell their coming out stories, 2000
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bloodpawprint · 18 days
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you should totally write more abby and vi fucking reader together 😇 need both of my butches at the same time
abby anderson x fem!reader x violet .. nsfw ౨ৎ
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abby knows how sensitive and overwhelmed you are, previously shushing your crying about how you couldnt cum again. it makes her heart ache a little; how you look up at her with watery eyes and squeeze her hand tighter. but, admittedly, she enjoys seeing you like this.
vi keeps your legs open, thighs and stomach littered with marks from both women. you tug at her hair as her tongue laps at you, uncoordinated and messily but still able to get you crying
abby holds your hand, letting you squeeze her palm as hard as you need to handle the overstimulation. "look at you, baby. that feel good, huh?"
you nod rather brainlessly, vi sliding her hands up the backs of your thighs to push them against your chest. your head rolls to the side on abby's lap, drool pooling from your open mouth
abby's free hand gropes your chest and you whine, feeling vi slip her fingers into you. your back arches up from the bed, pushing further into vi's face as cries rip from your throat
the blonde above shushes you while you heave, babbling nonsense about how you cant take it, and that its too much
vi moves away from you, breathing heavy and her face messy. she pushes your legs back apart and presses kisses against your stomach, her fingers still rutting inside you. "you can take it.. she can take it, right?"
she's mocking you, looking up at abby with a smug expression that makes you squirm beneath the both of them.
"yeah, she can," abby smiles down at you, brushing away the hair sticking to your face. "isnt that right?"
𝐦.𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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cranberryjuice-posts · 2 months
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- this butch this butch -
Pairings - Butch Abby x housewife! Milf! reader
IMPORTANT - takes Place in the 40’s / Abby is referred to as Abby and is written with He/Him pronouns UNTIL reader finds out she’s a she
If ur currious what the Lingerie looked like
Tw - SHITTY SMUT‼️‼️ oral sex, fingering, erm that’s abt it guys it takes place in the 40’s idk 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️
An - the smut is like kinda at the end and short bc idk
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Rushing around the house you struggled to prepare dinner. Tonight was important, your father had decided to come by for dinner bringing along his understudy Andy Anderson, your husband was currently out in the living room entertaining your father and your baby girl June was currently playing on the kitchen floor with her blocks.
“Ok ok.. steak for main course and I’ll do lobster bisque for the appetizer” you mumbled while grabbing the ingredients you needed.
“Mama” your daughter asked from where she sat, walking over to your todler you crouched down to her smiling. “Yes baby?”
“Square” she held up a block. Letting out a content sigh you took the wooden toy from your daughter, setting it aside you kissed her forehead. “Yes baby that’s a square, now mommy has to take care of dinner ok so be a good girl and play with your toys” Getting back up you returned to your meal prep.
After an hour the door opened, stepping in John. As he entered the kitchen your dusted the flour off of your hands while he found his way over to you, bending down he placed a soft kiss on your lips before heading towards the liquor cabinet. “John.. common I’m making dinner and June is up, can’t you wait until later”
He didn’t respond. “John p—“
“I heard you the first time” he snapped. Your breath caught in your throat, being married to your husband for the past 6 years you’ve learned quickly about his temper. And his hand.
Nodding slowly you started baking again. Checking on your soup June started crying as she hit her hand on a chair. “Your daughter is crying” John spoke as he prepared two glasses. “Yes.. uh could you please get her I’m sorry I’m just busy with dinner”
John however ignored you, walking out while heading back towards the living room. “God..” you sighed with your daughter practically screaming, before you could walk over to her the door opened once again making you pause in your step, being faced to face with a long forgotten crush of yours.. Andy . “Oh my god Andy I— please you don’t-“ you stumbled against your words while you tried to clean yourself up some. Andy chuckled shaking his head while picking up June. “It’s ok, I don’t mind helping out”
“Thank you” giving him a grateful smile. Sitting down at the counter Andy started to watch as your Finshed your meal. Normally you preferred being in the kitchen alone, but Andy was different. Being around him made you happy, it also didn’t help that he was insanely attractive. His strong arms and short well kept Blonde hair, and for some reason being around him gave you this flustered feeling. It was a wonder how he hadn’t been swooped up by some lucky woman .“so how’s your marriage going” Andy asked drawing your attention.
“Hm? Me oh it’s going.. nothing to bad though” you chuckled trying to make light of the situation. “Oh by the way Andy could you please take June out and set her in her high chair? You’d be doing me a major favor” you pleadingly asked, he of coursed nodded leaving to do as you asked.
——
All you asked for was a normal dinner. Sitting across the table from you was Andy. You knew he liked you, you may of been younger than him by a couple years but you could tell how he tried to peek at your cleavage through your dress or how he appreciated your victory curls. Though you didn’t mind the attention as it was more than you received from your husband.
Cleaning up the now emptied plates, you smiled as your dad complimented your cooking skills. “Aw dad it’s nothing to write home about”
“Ha! As if im Gonna Need you to start cookin for me every night” he laughed pulling a cigar out his pocket. Going outside you expected your husband to follow him the same as Andy only this time he followed you to the kitchen. “Well I think tonight went gr—“ the next thing you knew your jaw hit the sink then you laid on the floor.
“First thing Sunday you will go to the priest and confess about how you practically eye fucked another man infront of me.” John simply spoke while adjusting his shirt sleeve. “What?” You quietly asked, your tears staining the floor bellow you.
He scoffed. “Don’t act suprised you knew what you were doing. I saw how you act with Andy. Clean yourself up and get this nasty kitchen cleaned as well” he harshly spoke before leaving.
———
“Annnd here’s mommy” Andy smiled as he brought June into the kitchen, your daughter laughing excitedly. Almost immediately Andy noticed your closed off stance. Setting your daughter down He mumbled “Go find your grandpa ok” making sure the young girl was gone he made his way towards you
“What’s wrong” he asked standing behind you. You both had known each-other for a few years at this point, thus a friendship had grown over time. “Nothing” you mumbled.
He knew. You knew he knew. It was obivous. A small stain of blood on the floor, the first aid kit open and your formerly perfect curls now distressed.
Letting out a deep sigh he moved to be Standing beside you at the sink, now rinsing off the dishes he stayed quiet. “I’ve got it Andy”
He shrugged his shoulders “I know.”
“Andy this is a woman’s job please” You tried to push him back only he didn’t move. Giving up you stepped back watching while Andy finished off the plates putting them now in the drying rack.
Turning around He dried his hands before gently grabbing your face, rubbing a thumb over your bruising cheek and jaw. His critical gaze felt as though he knew how you felt. Your pain. Your cheeks flushed somewhat from his touch. Without realizing it you leaned into Andy kissing him.
A moment later you pulled back realizing he hadn’t kiss you back. “I’m sorry” you covered the bottom half of your face while holding your head low. “No no.. it’s not you trust me” his tone shocked as he quickly tried to assure you— you were in the right by squeezing your arms. “Your absolutely perfect in every way it’s just that.. there’s some stuff about me that you wouldn’t approve of, that would make you reject me”
Looking up confused you tilted your head. “What is it..” keeping eye contact with him. You knew he wouldn’t tell you without you putting up a fight. “I swear on everything Andy that I won’t tell.. if I do then you can tell John how I kissed you…. So please what is it” debating for a moment he finally sighed giving into you. Taking his hands away from you but keeping your bodies close he untucked his shirt pulling it open.
That’s when you realized it. Andy wasn’t a man.. rather he was a woman. “Your..”
“Yeah..” she sighed, Closing her shirt. “My Name is Abigail— Abby for short, not Andy. Legally a few years ago I changed my name to Andy because I couldn’t stand the thought of being a mans wife. So I changed. I changed everything about me and I ended up landing a pretty good spot at your fathers company” she slightly chuckled.
You kept your hands towards your chest. Out of everything Andy actually being named Abigail and being a woman was not what you expected. Pulling your eyes away from Abby you finally reached out, softly touching her chest which was covered by a thin tanktop. You felt the woman’s breath falter.
Standing on your tippy toes once again you placed your lips onto Abby’s. It was a quick peck. “Your not disgusted” she asked quietly with her hands on the counter behind you. “No.. if anything you being a woman makes you even more attractive”
That was all it took before Abby quickly jerking you into her kissing you hungerily. Bringing your hands to the girls face and wrapping an arm around her neck you deepend the kiss with Abby’s hands finding that special spot in your back as if to say ‘she’s got you’.
You’ve heard of lesbians before. It was a new term but still far away from being a socially acceptable term. From an early age you knew you liked women. It was hard not to but you knew that it was either conform to society and marry a man, have a kid and a family or be an outcast and alone forever. However in this moment you were prepared to throw everything out of the window if it meant to be with her
Pulling back you panted keeping Abby close. “John’s gonna leave.. he says it’s because the office needs him but I know he’s going to fuck his secretary. Midnight come by at 12, I know he won’t be back til morning and June will be long asleep” stepping back from the woman you tried to fix your curls in the mirror on the liquor cabinet. “The back door will be unlocked for you”
“What are You saying” she chuckled fixing her shirt some, Abby’s cheeks were completely red. “You know what I’m saying..” looking back over at her, there was this unspoken agreement between you both.
“Ok. I’ll be back at 12:00am sharp” she gave a small smile, kissing you softly once again.
———
Just as You Said John had left soon after your father. Spending the next hour you put June to bed, now leaving you with three hours to get ready.
Once midnight came around Abby walked in through the back door of your house finding it unlocked like you promised. Making her way upstairs she stopped at your door. Hesitant like this was all some fucked up dream. After a small mental pep talk she softly knocked on the door before stepping in.
Stepping inside the woman paused. You stood by your bed wearing a black lingerie set. The simple black bra and silk shorts with fishnets underneath. A few candles were lit and your hair redone. Shyly standing fiddling with your hands.
“My god.” Abby spoke breathless as she closed the door. Walking to you she held your hips admiring your body. “I.. I tried, um.. I had originally got this for John and I’s sixth anniversary but I figured this was a much better occasion”
Abby leaned forward trailing soft kisses from your jaw to your lips. Her hands dragged up loving your skin while you kissed. Bitting your bottom lip you let out a soft moan allowing Abby to slip her tongue in.
The kiss repeating multiple times until she pushed you down onto the bed. Her knee finding itself between your legs. “Off” she whispered. “What?” You asked breathless. Abby hooked her finger under the bra strap pulling it down. Once realizing you quickly took the top off setting it aside.
The blonde kissed down your neck, finding her way to your breast. Licking over the sensitive nipple she smiled as you tried to hold back a moan. Sucking on your breast she showed the same love towards the other with her hand.
She rhymathically rubbed her knee against your aching core. Covering your mouth you tried your best to hide a loud cry. Feeling yourself grow wetter you couldn’t help but start to grind your hips against the woman’s leg.
“Abby..” you softly cried grabbing at her short mannish hair. “I know sweet girl I know” she whispered still kissing your chest. Switching her mouth to the second revelishing in the fact you never felt like this with your husband.
Letting go of your nipple with a pop like sound she stood up from where she previously was. Taking off her suspenders Abby made quick work of her button down and pants leaving her in her briefs and wife beater pleaser. Taking a moment to admire Abby’s muscular physique, you looked away embarrassed
Getting down into her knees she pulled you to the edge of the bed. Bringing your underwear and fishnet socks down Abby had to restrain herself from loosing control. After your daughter birth you never managed to loose all the pregnancy weight, your lower half of stomach having a noticeable pudge with dark stretch marks.
Feeling Abby’s eyes on you, you tried to hide your stomach with your hands however she forced them away. “Abby please it’s disgusting”
“Oh sweet sweet girl.. it’s the furthest thing from disgusting, baby I’m having to restrain myself even now from fucking your senseless. You are the most attractive woman I’ve ever laid eyes on”
Her words making you turn red. Embarrassed still you stopped resisting Abby’s gaze and let yourself relax. Watching as the woman positioned herself between you, she looked up asking for your permission. You nodded at first which she didn’t appreciate “common sweet girl I need you to give me a yes or I’m not doing anything”
“Yes damnit Abby” you whined. She grinned at your neediness, not wanting to make you wait any longer she leaned in kissing your clit.
A whole new feeling of pleasure courses through your body as you felt Abby start to suck on your sensitive bud. Lapping her tongue through your folds and even teasing your throbbing hole.
Trying to keep quiet you gave soft breathy moans while having a firm grip on her hair. Abby tightly held your thighs as she continued to sloppily lick at you, your juices running down her chin.
Abby looked up at you slapping your thigh to get your attention you looked down. Her free hand now running lines with her thumb over your sopping cunt. “You keep your eyes on me, if you don’t then I’ll stop” agreeing faster than you should of you kept your gaze down at the blonde
Abby knew she wasn’t one to deny you, almost immediately going back to what she had previously been doing.
After taking a few moments she slipped a finger into you. Moaning loud you covered your mouth worried your daughter might wake up. There was a momentarily pause where you both kept an ear out incase June had indeed woken up. You could feel Abby laughing against your leg making you softly hit you with your thigh.
She rolled her eyes before moving back down between your legs. Her thick finger moving in and out as she continued to suck on your clit you felt a long forgotten feeling building up. Abby knew you were close, by how your breath started to increase and how you started to grind yourself against her face wanting— needing more.
Before you realized it yourself you had came. Falling back as you had no strength to keep yourself up, Abby continued to lick at you until you were completely cleaned.
Coming back up she towered over you pinning you down to the bed capturing you in one final kiss.
———
Laying in your bed together both nude you laughed softly as abby held you close finding one of the dumb jokes she had told you amusing. Hiding your face in her neck you realized that this was where you always wanted to be. To be in her arms, to be in her bed, hearing her dumb jokes, To be her wife.
“Abby” you mumbled against her skin.
“Yeah” she Hummed while playing with one of your curls. “John’s gettin enlisted into the army for the war. He told me a week ago. He leaves in a few days.. while he’s gone if he comes back alive I’ll divorce him and if he dies it’ll make this next part easier.” You spoke with a gentle tone.
Pulling back from Abby you shifted around until you sat up looking down at her. “I’ve known you since I was 18.. the past 8 years I couldn’t of asked for a better friend and now I know what I want.. Abigail Anderson. I want you to be mine.. in public you will be my husband but behind closed doors, in the comfort of our home and in our bedroom away from prying eyes you will be my wife”
Abby stayed quiet for a moment. Trying to search her eyes for an answer you noticed as the strong woman started to cry. Worried you said something wrong you tried to speak but were quickly cut off by her sitting up to kiss you. “I would like nothing more then that.. my wife” she pulled you into her hugging you close.
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pearlcigs · 3 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/uselessbutchlesbian/740278684175433728/the-butch-urge-to-lick-a-femmes-pussy-and-fuck
This with Abby
⋆ french kissing
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the smell of sweat and sex filled the room. abby had been teasing you for hours, kissing all around your lower half, pressing her chapped lips delicately over your swollen bud. darting her tongue out to swirl around your clit, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. you were a mess, she was treating you so well, spending hours between your legs but you wanted more. "p-please. please, abs. need— need more." you greedily whined, fingertips and knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping onto the sheets under you.
abby chuckles, pressing another soft, cruel kiss on your drooling cunt. "of course, baby. how could i leave my girl hanging?" her tone was teasing. she was teasing you. even if you wanted to protest, beg her to be nice, you couldn't. you were too choked up by your own moans. you just wanted her to fuck you, lead you to your release of ecstasy. "abby." you whine, though it's barely intelligible. "i know, baby. i'm being just so so mean right now." she faux pouts, mocking the pout that occupied your mouth.
she tries to hide her laugh as you whine again. "alright, alright. you've been such a good girl. yeah? i think you deserve to cum, hm?" you're instantly nodding, pushing your hips closer to her face. her hands are grabbing your thighs again, squeezing them tight as she pulls you closer to her. she looks up at you as she kitten licks your clit just to watch you squirm. then, finally, after hours of what felt like endless teasing, her tongue starts to fuck your sopping hole. one of your hands releases the bundle of sheet you had in your hand and clasps over your mouth. your eyes rolls back, you felt like you were seeing stars.
abby couldn't help but smirk at the sight of you. she loved when you were like this, totally and utterly under her control. you'd do anything to cum right now, and abby would be lying if she said she didn't love taking advantage of that. "look at me." abby mumbles into your cunt, requesting that you keep eye contact with her as she tongue fucks you. you do your best to listen to her command, haphazardly moving your eyes to look between your thighs, meeting abby's eyes. she looked so pretty, her cheeks flushed, though not as much as yours. and her hair was disheveled, wispy pieces falling out of her (once) perfectly tucked braid.
abby could feel your walls clenching around her tongue, signaling her to fuck her tongue into your faster. your whole body was hot and your moans were spilling through the hand you had over your mouth. your eyes never left abby's, trying to be the best girl you could be for her. your moans and whines got louder as you could feel yourself right on the edge of one of the best orgasms on your life. abby rubbed your thighs as you finally came, eyes rolling in the back of your head, thighs shaking, and the only thing you could say was abby's name. "sh, sh, sh.. good girl.." abby quietly praised as she fucked your through your orgasm.
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edge-of-the-end · 11 months
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possibly my favourite thing about the rotpl finale is getting confirmation that lydia already knew she was gay. cynthia was going through such a time, and we finally know that lydia was actively protecting herself and in control of the whole situation. the rehearsal kisses? she instigated that with the knowledge that it wasn’t two straight girls, because she clocked cynthia from the get-go and still offered to kiss her for the play, because it was no commitment. she couldn’t be abandoned because the play already had a strict deadline. when cynthia ran away after the pre-play kiss, and avoided her at the dance, she knew she’d gone too far, and that she’d have to pull away and not talk to cynthia so that she could maintain the boundaries that would protect her from heartbreak again. the whole situation gains a whole extra layer because while cynthia might not have had the words to express who she was, lydia did, and the words were deviant and invert and sick, so of course the poor girl, this seventeen (maybe sixteen?) year old girl knew that the world wasn’t safe for her. despite all this, cynthia pulled it back. everywhere lydia hid behind behind femininity and long hair and theatricality, cynthia stuck out like a sore thumb, short haired and feisty and so butch without even knowing what it was, that overtness represented that hope, that the bit of lydia that was hiding could be a little freer. the glances that we see when the teacher suggests more rehearsals can turn into the active looking for each other that we see in the finale because that’s where the balance is, and it shows lydia that cynthia will never deny her. she will see her in public, around her friends, and will say she loves her to nancy, and that is what lydia needs. she spends so much time acting as these characters that she is virtually never herself, and in the hall of mirrors, surrounded by her own reflection, she gets to see that being who she is, a young lesbian in love, might be worth it. that the girl in the mirror, kissing cynthia, can exist and be happy.
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clitorises · 1 year
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I want to take a shy butch home and fulfill her fantasy of being used by a bossy femme. It would start while we were making out, and as I sink my teeth into her lower lip I’d feel her start to grind against my thigh. I’d gently place my hand around her throat, just to hear her moan, and purr into her ear - this pathetic and desperate already, baby? I’d slide her hands under my shirt. You can start by playing with my tits, and if you’re good, maybe I’ll let you fuck me.
I’d lose myself in pleasure as she fondled me, rolling my nipples under her thumbs, licking my neck and whimpering, her hips bucking against my thigh. Be a good slut and use your mouth. She’d leave deep red marks all over my chest, pausing to flick her tongue over my hard nipples. Once I was satisfied with her work, I’d take her by the jaw and make her look me in the eyes, panting, desperate. Tell me what you need. She’d whine and blush, looking down shyly. I’d tighten my grip on her jaw. Do you think I don’t already know how filthy you are, how badly you want me to use you for my own pleasure? How badly you want to serve me, be my handsome toy? Just say it. A slight moan would escape her as she looked back into my eyes. I need your pussy.
I’d order her to strip me, slowly, down to my lingerie, peppering my skin with kisses as she did. I’d spread my legs, pulling my panties to the side. Clean up your mess. I’d cling to her hair as she obeyed, licking in long strokes, moaning as she tasted how much she’d turned me on. I’d grind my clit against her tongue, my head thrown back, my words becoming scrambled as I neared the edge, telling her what a good slut she is for me, how dirty she is for wanting me to use her mouth like this, how I couldn’t wait to take her strap - until I have my first orgasm of the night under her tongue, heat rushing up my body, flushing my chest and my cheeks.
She’d wait until my tremors calmed, and then she’d ask me softly, please, can I give you another?
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monstersighing · 18 days
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NSFW, MDNI
Fem WereHyena x AFAB Reader
Content: pseudopenis, light dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, penetrative sex
Title: Working On It
“The new boss is a were-hyena. I think she’s your type. Especially with what she has in her pants,” Rina says as you settle at your desk.
“Good morning to you too, Rina,” you reply. Ever since you told her the werewolf delivery woman was hot, she’s been trying to set you up with every were person she sees. It’s not like you haven’t thought about what it would be like to grind on a hyena woman’s swollen pseudopenis - feeling it slide along your folds and then slip inside - but the new hire probably won’t be your type.
The new boss introduces herself at the morning team meeting - “I’m Nell and I’m glad to meet you all” - and well yeah. She’s tall and butch with curly textured hair styled into an undercut. When she laughs at a colleague’s joke she flashes a mouth full of pointed teeth and you imagine them pressed against your neck as you squirm pinned under her. You feel your face flush, and a liquid warmth pools in your stomach. When you cross your legs you feel a pulsing heat flare in your cunt.
You wonder if the spots you can see on her face extend all over her body, and what the jut of her clit would look like against shaven skin or dark hair. You imagine burying your face in her crotch, and taking her in your mouth, and how her nails would dig into your scalp as you lapped and sucked. You want to know if she growls when she comes.
You’re daydreaming about this when she comes over to ask if you have a pen.
“I like your nails,” Nell says, “can I look closer?” When you nod, throat dry, she picks up your hand in hers and turns it so the glitter in the black polish catches the light on your short nails. Nell’s hand is warm, and you can feel your heart jump when she looks up and says, “Pretty.” She pauses then, cants her head as if listening for something, and then with a sniff says she needs to get back to her desk.
All through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon you feel her eyes on you, and as much as you try to shake if off by the time it hits 5pm you’re a frustrated soaking mess.
You pack up your bag quickly and head out without your normal goodbyes, hoping to arrive home quickly so you can finally get yourself off.
As you pass the board member’s toilets, Nell pokes her head out of the door and asks, “Could you come in here for a second? I need your help.”
“I’ve never been in here,” you say as she closes the door behind you. She flicks the lock on the inside of the door closed and you wonder why, but then get distracted by the floor to ceiling mirrors on one wall. There’s a wide padded bench in the middle, like something out of a fancy hotel.
“What do you need help with?” you ask.
Nell comes close and with her hand cupping your face, murmurs into your ear, “I could smell you all day.”
You blush. You knew that were-creature’s senses become more acute the nearer to the full moon it gets, but you didn’t think she’d be able to smell your desire for her so easily.
“It got stronger when I came to your desk. Your heart was faster too. Like a chased rabbit. You want me,” Nell says.
You look down. “I-I--”. She tilts your face with the hand still on your cheek. Her eyes are a rich amber. “I do,” you say in a small voice, and you close your eyes.
“Good,” she says, and kisses you. It’s a hungry kiss, wet and dirty with tongue. Your hands rise and cling to her lapels to pull her closer.
When you break the kiss Nell says, “That smell, all day. Do you know how hard it was not to just push you down on a table and eat you out?  Her hand grips grabs yours and presses it to her crotch. You feel the bulge there. “I need you to take care of this.”
You gulp and nod.
She kisses you softly this time, and then then pulls away with a sigh. She yanks you towards the bench and releases you to sit down, her arms along the backrest, legs spread wide.
“Undress,” she tells you.
You kick off your shoes and then unbutton your shirt, clumsy under her heated gaze. When you take off your trousers, you see her sniff, and rub her palm against her crotch, grinding against it.
“Come closer,” Nell says, and you do.
“You’re soaked,” Nell says as she traces the wetness on the crotch of your underwear with one finger. It’s almost too much already though the thin cotton. She pulls your underwear down with a rough tug. Her mouth kisses across your hips, the tops of your thighs, then your cunt. She stays pressed there for a moment, then she laps at your clit with a wide and insistent tongue. Her hands grab your ass cheeks to pull you closer. The feel of nails pressing into the skin makes your cunt throb.
You can see yourself in the full-length mirror behind you. You’re naked and flushed, trembling with want, and Nell hasn’t even unbuttoned her shirt. It’s too much, and not enough and you want her tongue deeper, harder. Your legs wobble. She grabs your thigh and drapes it over her shoulder to give her better access and fucks her tongue into your hole. You grab your breasts in your hands, pinching your nipples. Your hips jerk, trying to get her tongue deeper and you feel an orgasm building. When you’re right on the precipice, Nell stops.
“No, please,” you whine.
“Get on the bench," Nell says.
You scramble to lie down on your back and immediately spread your legs. But before you get your fingers to your hole, Nell grabs your wrist and says, “Be good. I want to fuck you.” You place your hand back on the seat of the bench. Nell licks her lips and you see that they are swollen, and her chin is wet with your slick.
Nell pulls off her shirt. Her breasts are small and high, nipples peaked.  She unzips her trousers and pulls them off her hips revealing dark hair. Her clit is flushed with blood and angles up just like a hard cock. It’s bigger than you thought it would be, and as Nell fists it in her hand you see wetness bead up from the slit.
Nell grabs your waist and turns you over, pulls your hips up so you’re on all fours on the bench, displaying your soft leaking cunt to her. She presses her hard clit between your thighs and then up to slide against your pussy lips, a slow glide. You wriggle against her and her hands clasp and curl over your hips. “If you want more, you need to ask,” Nell huffs out.
“In-Inside. I need. Please,” you sob.
Nell pushes in, her clit stretching your pussy walls, a thick insistent pressure. When she has bottomed out, she rocks slowly. You push your ass back against her, and your cunt clenches as she grazes your cervix. It’s a sharp pleasure pain that makes you moan “harder!” and splay your legs wider. Nells ruts into you roughly then, mindless, like your body is just a hole to bury itself.
As Nell’s thrusts get more ragged, she drops down so her body bends and moulds over you, one long line of contact from her legs to her chest. Your arms give way and you heave gasps into the fabric of the bench rubbing against your face. You worm one hand under your body and nudge two fingers against the hard nub of your clit and come apart, pinned under Nell, speared on her clitdick.
Nell continues hammering into you, chasing her own orgasm. She slams into you one last time and then stiffens, buried deep. You feel her squirt inside you. When she pulls out, you stay still, feeling the liquid slowly seep out of your hole.
You drift.
When you come back to yourself Nell has turned you onto your back with your knees up, feet planted on the bench. She uses some dampened napkins to clean off your swollen, used hole. Her touch is light, but you still feel aftershocks of pleasure as she does it. When she finishes wiping you off, Nell plants kisses on each thigh.
Both of you gather your clothes and Nell helps you back into them. Except your underwear which she places into the breast pocket of her jacket. “For later,” she says.
She kisses you and presses a business card into your hand. Her address is neatly written on the reverse.
“It’s the full moon in two days,” she says. “If you come to my home, I can show you what I can really do.”
“I’ll be there,” you say, and blush.
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scribbledghost · 1 month
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Quietly manifesting fem!Simon in my life cause I need it.
Just imagine the biggest, most intimidating butch you can. The kind that people often mistakenly call "sir", though she really can't be arsed to correct them. The fact that she's constantly got at least her lower face masked up doesn't help, given the cropped hair she's got. Truthfully though, she couldn't care less.
Typically, "prickly" doesn't even begin to describe her personality. People simply don't get close to her, and she prefers it that way. She's more than content to keep to herself with only her German shepherd for company.
Right up until she meets you, that is. The cute girl next door.
Somehow, your cat had managed to escape, and her dog had excitedly chased the poor thing up a nearby tree while they'd been out for a walk. As a means of apology (and to try and get in your good graces), she offers to go get him. Just as you're asking how she plans to do that, she hands you the leash in her hand and just. Climbs up the damn tree. Without the least bit of effort.
"Gonna catch 'im?" she asks as she grabs your cat by the scruff. "Or should I bring 'im to ya?"
Either way, you thank her profusely and go your separate ways for the day. She smiles to herself as she walks back home, remembering the brush of your hands against hers as she handed you your cat back.
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bambiesfics · 2 months
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- Link to Butch Ellie’s mood board -
𝗕𝗶𝗺𝗯𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗯𝗼𝗮𝗿𝗱 🎀🪞💒 🛍️
Bimbo reader’s all: in love with Ellie, likes tight pink stuff, so scared of losing Ellie she gets overwhelmed when she feels like Els’ is pulling away. Needy, wishes Ellie could put her in her back pocket and take her everywhere. Wants “bring you girlfriend to work day” to be everyday.
- Bimbo’s Vibes - (hey, make this personal for you bby. Replace every image with one of you, your hair, your skin tone, your body type. Because It’s you that’s prancing around in pink tights so tight you walk around with a cute little camel toe all day, while Ellie itches to beat the shit out of anyone who steals a glance.
⧆    💌    ∿   ⌅  ⁺
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⭒    💒   ⁺   ♩
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
⧆    🐶    ∿   ⌅  ⁺
💭 ……. To reader …….
Hey you, you dumb little walking talking cocksleeve. Y’such a crybaby, when Ellie’s beside you at night you start getting all mopey in her embrace. Because you know she’s gonna wake up and leave for work in 8 hours once again. And that hurts so much. You need her, need your masculine butch to kiss the top of your soft little head and let you prattle on about pedicures and gym outfits. Need her to plop you firmly on the kitchen counter top while she’s stood between your thighs. She got you caged you between her arms, pinned under smouldering gaze and set jaw, mesmerized by the little fairy in front of her. Her little fairy.
🎵 Songs, give them a brief listen: Spotify links
Bimbo doll - Tila Tsoli
Mine - Slayyyter
!!! [please help Palestine] !!!
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I'm too weak to stand by the time my wife and our midwife decide it's time to transfer me to the hospital to give birth to our son. I'm splayed listlessly in the birthing pool, my red-rimmed eyes half slipped back in my head. The baby is lodged so tightly in my hips that any tiny movement sends sharp spikes of pain through my pelvis. Pushing is white hot fire and absolutely out of the question so I'm left skewered on the girth of my baby, too out of it from pain and exhaustion to have anymore input on what happens next.
When the paramedics arrive they do their best to hide their shock when they find a 350lb bull dyke with a buzz cut and biker tats inked across her swollen GG breasts grunting in a pool so small I'm touching all the sides.
They move away to confer, likely about moving someone my size, but I'm too out of it to be offended. My big, hairy pussy is bulged out so far it seems almost impossible there's no head showing. My wife Monica moves to my head and kisses my cheek. I can tell she's scared but trying to put on a brave face.
The paramedic who is clearly in charge, a tall, butch Black woman with short nails and even shorter hair, jumps into the pool and introduces herself as Jean before announcing her intention to check me. I'm briefly relieved another lesbian is going to be the stranger who is digging around in my pussy then I feel her fingers enter my overstuffed hole and I can't bite back a weak moan at the intrusion. She rubs my bulge gently near my clit and makes a shushing noise. My eyes roll back in my head involuntarily at the intimate touch. I'm hurting too bad for it to be pleasurable but it gives me a tiny ounce of relief nonetheless.
Monica is staring down at me with worry on her face when Jean announces to her team that the baby is stuck on my pubic bone and the first step to getting it unstuck is to get me standing. I barely have time to protest before the 3 muscled young men taking orders from Jean are helping lift my bulk from the tub.
Even with five people supporting my weight I am unable to keep myself from falling gracelessly into a wide squat as the weight of my huge child drops down even further. My bulging pussy hits the water as I feel the unmistakable sensation of urgently crowning what must be an absolutely huge head.
I'm screaming about the fire in my crotch as Jean takes one of my meaty thighs, the biggest paramedic takes the other, and the other two support my back as I am lifted, legs spread around my crown, onto the floor beside the birthing pool.
The best case scenario, Jean tells me over my screaming sobs, is that I push it out right here and she and her team give me and baby a ride to the hospital. It looks like that might work for a few pushes but I'm fading faster than before and don't have much to give in the way of help. She briefly considers forceps but would rather get me to the hospital if my baby is still in danger of breaking my pelvis when I push him out. She reaches inside my rubber band tight lips to feel where the head had previously been stuck on a bone and noticeably pales.
She doesn't say anything out loud to alarm me or my wife but she tells her team with harsh urgency that we are transferring to the hospital immediately. I'm being moved again, still with my legs spread wide by men on either thigh, on to a bariatric stretcher and rolled out of my living room before I can even think to protest being rolled out of my front door naked, my crowned, leaking pussy bared for for all our straight, conservative neighbors to see.
I hear Jean telling Monica and our midwife that they're going to have to meet us at the hospital. Between my size and the seriousness of my potential injuries, they need all the room they can get to keep me intact until I'm able to be rushed into emergency surgery.
I don't hear whether my wife argues or not because I'm being lifted up into the ambulance. The jostling sends a sharp, warning pain through my pubic bone and I scream for them to stop moving me. Jean yells almost at the same time, glaring at her subordinates. She orders them to freeze with my feet tilted up into the ambulance and then leans down to place her palm firmly against my crown.
The counter pressure immediately eases some of the burning sensation around my lips and the ominous aching in my pelvic bones. I lay my head back and groan at feeling, for the first time since I hit transition, some of the pain lessening rather than intensifying.
I focus on how good it feels to have Jean pushing back on some of the insane pressure in my cunny while they settle me into the ambulance. A strap is placed around my straining middle and the stretcher is locked into place. One of the nameless young men starts an IV as the sirens start blaring and I feel the ambulance start to move.
Jean, still holding my crown, tells me her colleague is giving me something for the pain and that a surgical team is being assembled right now to meet the ambulance and rush me into the operating room.
"Everything's going to be just fine, Libby. You and your baby are going to be just fine as long as you don't push. No matter how bad you need to bear down, you can't. You will break your pubic bone and probably your tail bone and you really don't want to do that."
I don't. I've already started to feel the effects of the drugs and I'm still in more pain than I've ever been in my life but there is a thin, hazy distance from it now. I feel the warmth of Jean's hand around my crown and I blink up at her with what I think might be close to a flirtatious smile.
"Just don't move your hand, baby," I mumble and she clearly understands because her cheeks redden and she cracks a wide, slightly embarrased smile.
"Alright, Sappho. Glad those drugs are starting to work."
I probably wasn't going to respond because I was seconds away from passing out when suddenly the ambulance is hitting something with extreme force and my gravid body is bouncing up into the air. I see, as if in slow motion, Jean's steadying hand get ripped away from my pussy.
I'm slammed back down on to the stretcher and, inevitably, my bones shatter. When they give way my baby is ejected out to his shoulders before anyone can stop him to try to spare me even greater injury.
I'm writhing and screaming incoherently as I feel Jean gingerly pull my son out the rest of the way. I can feel his heft shifting around pieces of bone in me as he slithers out and I am acutely aware how badly I wish I could lose consciousness.
I don't. When my son leaves my body to be handed off to one of the men and my clenching cavity clamps down on nothing, I am catapulted into another stratosphere of pain. I start hyperventilating and am barely able to understand Jean as she straddles the stretcher in between my legs and starts to touch my lips.
"Libby, hold on for me, honey. I'm gonna do something and it's gonna hurt like the dickens and then it's going to feel amazing. Just keep breathing for me, sweetheart."
Why I look down right at that moment I will never know but I watch her gloved, fisted hands plunge into my pussy and my asshole at the same time. I use my last remaining strength to wail in protest as it feels like a white hot iron is being rammed through my pelvis. Then she does what can only be described as a punch with the fist in my cunt and I almost throw up with how suddenly relieved I feel because of whatever Jean's hands are doing to hold my gravely injured body together.
Don't get me wrong. I'm still in agony. But between whatever Jean's fists just did and the drugs starting to kick in even more, I'm barely able to do anything other than lay there and whimper.
When we get to the hospital the medics have just taken me down from the ambulance when Monica runs up. She takes in Jean, straddling the stretcher in between my legs and then the position of her fists in both my holes. My face is a rictus of pain and shock and I'm horrified to discover I can't talk. I'm not even able to close my mouth when I feel drool slipping down my chin.
I look up at my wife, who's being handed our 15lb baby. She walks beside my stretcher as I'm rushed in to the trauma bay. I fight with all my will to be able to muster up the strength to say one more thing to the love of my life before the drugs pull me under completely. The fact that I'm about to almost die on the table three times because I'm silently hemorrhaging into my abdomen as we speak is the only thing that comes between me and divorce later so stupid were the words I chose to say.
"Jean's hands feel so good in my ass and my pussy. God, it feels so good."
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