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msharkness · 13 hours ago

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mentioning this post what about butch Agnes using an empty (obviously washed previously or not 👀) beer bottle to fuck Rio with? I mean you mentioned the placement and my mind did the tumble sooo 👉👈

Tip Jar 💰

Maybe this isn't the BEST way to go about this but hey... I've been doing some internal dyke/butch soul searching the past couple of days and ALLOWING myself to ask for things/want things and it's been very freeing and very GENDER for me so you know what...here we GO! It's about unlearning shame honestly and guilt and telling yourself that wanting things isn't predatory behavior

Music inspo: She's Kerosene - The Interrupters, Short Skirt/Long Jacket - CAKE, Knocking At The Door - Arkells, Touch Myself - The Beaches, The Lonely Life - City and Colour, Got You - The Flys, WET T-SHIRT - Ruby Waters, The Subway - Chappell Roan, Like A Prayer - Dogma

"You certainly have a way with how you like to hold your beer, detective."

Agnes quickly glanced down between her legs at the cool glass held gently between her fingers; sitting tall and proud between her open legs. She felt a rush of heat creep up her neck to her face; her cheeks burning.

Instantly she felt a wave of shame and guilt. Eating at her insides; gnawing. Sinking in the pits of her stomach.

Agnes coughed as she tore her eyes away from Vidal who was sitting across from her with her own beer held in her hands. She had it balancing on one of her knees. Agnes began to chew the inside of her cheek as the silence spread between them like an ocean.

"Yeah...well...stupid to keep moving it from the table to my hands, so..."

"Oh, I didn't mean it like that-"

Agnes shrugs her shoulders which feel like lead. The flannel she has on feeling like a farce. Everything starts to feel smaller around her; no longer life size and bold. She scoffs as she lifts up her beer and takes a long, hard swig that almost finishes it off. She thinks twice about putting it back down between her open legs but does it anyway. She doesn't want to tip off to Vidal that something is suddenly wrong.

Agnes knows however that Vidal has picked up on the change between them; the slight discomfort Agnes now feels. She pulls her legs together as she removes the bottle from between them. She tries to mimic how Vidal is sitting with her legs closed and her bottle resting on her knee. She watches as Vidal frowns and pretends not to notice her doing so.

Agnes can hear that voice of doubt and shame inside of her head; not her own voice of course but someone very familiar to her. The only true voice of shame and guilt she ever felt in her life. Her mother's. It's telling her to smarten up and sit up 'like a lady'. It's telling her that her clothes are all wrong and 'too masculine'. She doesn't look presentable; doesn't appear to be 'sweet' and 'approachable'.

She wants to shrink away into herself.

"You know, Vidal...it's getting late and uh...I just remembered I have to get up early tomorrow so..."

Agnes tries to peel herself up from the couch as she doesn't dare make eye contact with her partner. She so badly wants to get up and toss Vidal out of her house but her body betrays her as does her heart.

There's no way in fucking hell she could kick Vidal out. Not now, not ever.

To Agnes' surprise however, Vidal does rise from her seat. She places the almost-empty bottle down gently onto the coffee table before her. She stands there with her shoulders back and her head held high; looking down her nose at Agnes.

The detective goes right back to chewing on her bottom lip as if any second, Vidal is going to start scolding her for doing everything wrong.

"You don't mean any of that, do you, Agnes?"

Vidal's voice is the softest Agnes has ever heard it and it almost breaks her heart. She feels that tight squeezing of the muscle and that ache inside of herself; the one that occurs right before you're about to cry and sob and lose yourself over to feeling fucking sorry for yourself. Agnes chokes back a sob but doesn't dare look up as she finished off her beer and sets the bottle down next to Vidal's. The empty thud of glass breaks the silence before Agnes can.

But she can't talk and she can't admit how she feels. The deep overbearing feelings that have always sat within herself that may never leave. The fear and the disgust she feels deep within herself for the things she needs and wants and craves.

"Go back to sitting how you were originally...please."

Agnes blinks back tears that dare to fall; drying out her eyes as she tries to keep them open. Her tongue pokes around the inside of her right cheek in thought as she slowly does what she's told. Her legs shift back to that comfortable pose; open and inviting to some degree. The shame burns her right through her core and all the while, despite that feeling, she feels a twinge of desire throb away at her clit.

She silently curses herself as her eyes slowly close and she tries to erase those feelings from existing. Feelings that have only brought her trouble.

Agnes hears Vidal pick up another bottle and press it against Agnes' left hand and she, without thought, allows her fingers to curl around the smooth glass. It's a empty beer Vidal has handed her; one that she had brought out earlier for them that had been drunk hours ago.

"Put it back between your legs and tilt it a little towards me."

Agnes does. Without hesitation once more. She can feel the way her socks dig into the carpet below her; heels and toes trying to grip down to steady herself. She lets out a shaky breath and know she's going to lose control any second. She can't hold on much longer; that darkness swirling around her like a cloud.

But, something tells Agnes to open her eyes once more and she's suddenly glad she does. Vidal has knelt herself down in front of Agnes with her hands ever so gently resting on Agnes' knees. The look in her eyes can only be described as desperate and the look of hunger is something that Agnes is all too familiar with. It sends a shiver up her spine.

"Relax, Agnes..."

She does and she watches as Vidal uses her hands to press down and lean her upper body forward until her mouth is parallel to the bottle. Agnes' mouth opens in unison with Vidal's as the agent pokes out her tongue to lick the underside of the bottle in an upwards motion.

Agnes instantly feels a rush between her legs and a quick, sudden sensation of wetness in her boxers. She tries to breath out slow through her nose but loses it halfway and turns it into a deep groan. Vidal watches from below as Agnes' eyebrows knit together and the crease between her brows deepen. She loves that feature of Agnes more than anything.

It's Vidal's turn to let out a groan as she brings her head down once more to start from the bottom of the bottle once more to lick up. This time however, her tongue catches the rim of the bottle and swirls around it as much as she's physically able. It's hypnotizing to Agnes the way Vidal's tongue curls and curves; the saliva dripping down the bottle and onto the couch. Her fingers itch with nothing more than wanting to grab Vidal's hair.

Is she allowed to do that? To want that? Is she allowed to take control of the situation unfolding before her? Would Vidal want that?

Agnes doesn't. Doesn't allow herself to do any of that. She lets the thought of it burn away in her minds eye about how good it would feel and look to have her rough hands all coiled and combed through Vidal's dark hair. How it would feel to pull on her gentle roots and lift her head up only to guide it down. She steals away this fantasy and locks it up in her mind to later berate herself over even thinking such thoughts.

It's like somehow, someway, Vidal manages to read her inner most thoughts as she does one last swirl around the rim before she leans her head forward to take it fully into her mouth; lips closed around it.

'Tip' and 'head' fill Agnes' mind as she lets out a moan and slams her eyelids shut. She lets her head hang back to rest on the couch as she can feel Vidal's mouth and tongue and teeth around her cock.

But it's not and never will be. It can't be. It's a bottle or it's silicone or it's her fingers. But she can feel it; can always feel it when Vidal goes down on her like this. Connected to her like tissue and muscle and skin. Good fucking god can she feel it as her boxers become wetter and start to stick to her folds.

Vidal doesn't let up; never does. Agnes swears the woman is a mind reader or maybe even, can read emotions in some fucked up way. She starts feeling bad about herself or starts to let old feelings creep in that no longer give her any meaning and there's Vidal, trying to erase those and give her nothing but the positive.

The woman is magic and Agnes cannot for the life of herself figure it the fuck out how she got so goddamn lucky.

So, maybe now, Agnes thinks to herself as her free hand raises from its spot on the couch and hovers mid-air. Maybe now, I can.

And she does.

She combs her fingers through Vidal's hair to anchor her down onto her so that her mouth is still busy sucking and licking at the bottle erect and hard between her legs.

The vibrations that tingle Agnes' fingers feel like heaven as Vidal hums against the bottle. Her fingers claw and dig into Agnes' kneecaps as she pushes herself closer, deeper and is ultimately guided by Agnes' fingers clutching her hair.

It feels like hours roll by until Agnes brings her head back to neutral and opens her eyes to look down at Vidal. Cheeks hollowed out and her eyes wide and attentive. She's looking up at Agnes and Agnes, can see that Vidal is close to done.

Which is fine, Agnes thinks to herself in silence as she uses her fingers to pull Vidal's head up and her mouth away from the bottle, she wants something else now.

The string of saliva from Vidal's lips to the bottle breaks as she pulls away from it completely. The agent sighs loudly and Agnes can't help but stare in wonder. There's so much she wishes she could say and explain but where would she start?

How could she ever start to explain herself?

But maybe, that too is something Vidal knows innately. Maybe, that too, is something Vidal has tucked away deep inside of her own self.

Vidal shifts herself up a little more as her left hand slips off of Agnes' knee to press into the couch cushion between Agnes' legs so she can get closer to the detective. Agnes lets go of the bottle; feels it roll sideways and rest against her inner thigh. Vidal's left knee is now almost parallel to Agnes' crotch and she knows that Vidal can sense the heat coming off of her.

"Vidal..."

"Don't. Just let me. Trust me."

Agnes watches between their bodies as Vidal uses her right hand to snake it's way up Agnes' leg until it dips under the waist of her jeans. A loud moan fills the small space between them; falling from Agnes' lips as she feels Vidal's fingers creep down through her pubic hair and press hard against her already engorged clit.

Vidal replies with a moan of her own as she uses this as a opportunity to bring herself closer and press her forehead to Agnes'.

"...Fuck my fingers if you have to...ok? You do whatever you need to do, Baby...use me..."

It's as if a heavy door opens in Agnes' mind as Vidal's words become the key she's been searching for her entire life. She grits down; clenching her teeth until the muscles in her jaw scream at her to ease up. Her toes curl against her socks as she tries to grip the floor beneath them. Hips raising; thighs pushing forwards as she moves herself towards what Vidal is offering.

She wants the friction. Wants to feel her clit rubbed to a sore numb of burning nerves. Craves Vidal's fingers slipping into her cunt; engulfed with that wet heat that still makes her feel embarrassed.

She wants it all and she's still to afraid to ask.

#my mind was wondering places that I wouldn't have imagined in this way until reading this #fic rec

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