#the way she dresses is very butch

[clovesnz]

Not me developing a crush on my ONE straight friend like wth is wrong with meeee

[himblebo]

Ah fuck it’s 2 am and I saw myself in the bathroom mirror and now I’m having gender thoughts

[emiliosandozsequence]

this is probably much less surprising to u guys than it might be to people who meet us for the first time irl rather than online, but my fiancee is the butch and i am the femme 😎

[asexxxualauthor]

Why…why does this work so well?

A very, very self indulgent masc vibe Laudna just because I can (and I really want to draw her with short hair)

[empyreasheart]

op doesnt know it but seeing axel referred to with fem terms is like soup for my soul. genderfluid axel is so real. roxas and xions big sister

[genderqueerdykes]

terves will try to erase the existence of women with masculine primary and secondary sex characteristics that developed without HRT, but we exist. my mom, sister, aunt and grandmother all grow/grew facial hair. my sister began balding in her late 20s due to high testosterone. most of my aunts have very masculine facial features.

my sister is diagnosed with pcos. my family is full of intersex women with naturally masculine features. one of my aunts gets misgendered as a man constantly because she doesn't shave her mustache that often, has black hair, and dresses very masc. most of the women in my family are stocky with dense builds. all of these women exist this way without any HRT or modification on their behalf. none of these women have endometriosis either. pcos is what runs in my family

intersex women are everywhere. perisex women who don't have intersex conditions are everywhere. women of color with features deemed "MASCULINE" by white beauty standards are everywhere. butch women are everywhere. there are women who develop masculine features all the time for a variety of reasons. it's time to stop erasing these people for the sake of attacking trans women.

let women with "Masculine" features, trans, intersex, queer, and everything else speak. stop erasing the existence of millions of women for the sake of petty arguments and transmisogyny. enough is enough. i will not sit here and pretend like my own goddamn relatives don't exist while terves do so they can silence trans women. women come in all fucking shapes and sizes period end of sentence.

stop attacking my sisters while erasing the rest of my family. all of these women are my family equally. stop fucking with us or i'll fuck with you.

[loriache]

Butch up that Elf: my Marcille manifesto

TBQH, this came into being because the Falin "dragoness" fanart rewired my brain completely. It's sillytimes, but we're going to make a serious argument: trying out being a little butch would Fix Her.

1. Marcille Gender Discomfort

Now, Marcille LOVES feminity. She loves playing dressup, she loves elaborate gowns, she spends her free time going to the spa - the absolute last thing I want is to deny that. However, there's also a definite vibe that this isn't just a preference. Specifically, the way that she pushes Falin towards femininity suggests that she isn't comfortable with gender nonconformity in the people around her.

If this was something she was 100% confident about ("I'm doing this for myself and nobody else!") surely what other people do wouldn't be a big deal? Of course, you can read this as a little bit of solipsism; "what works for me must work for you too! I think this is so cute and would suit you - wouldn't you agree?"

But for the sake of this argument, all I'm trying to suggest is that gender nonconformity (and probably sexual nonconformity... well, frankly, any kind of sexuality at all) is unlikely to be something that's on Marcille's "radar". She hasn't tried out other ways of presenting and decided she doesn't like them. I do think she'd be a very flamboyant butch - "ouji lolita" vibes, you know? It's a whole new set of wardrobe options she could play dress-up in, even.

After the story ends, she starts dressing like her mother in all black, which makes sense - her mother was also a court magician, so she's probably emulating her in order to project confidence and authority. But I can't say I think she should stick with this. Break away and be your own person, Marcille! Try a fancy waistcoat and frilled jacket!

2. Haircut

This is another potential hard sell, I'm sure. The people she loves doing her hair is a cute symbol of their care for her, and her hair is key to her magic - so there's plenty of reason for her to keep it long. But like... think practically. Having someone do your hair every morning, for the whole of her long life, while it gets messier over the day (because she can't remember to keep it neat)... That's got to be such a pain. My hair gets messy when I put a hoodie on. And I have short hair.

It would require her to go through a change of mind, and probably a little more growth in how secure she feels in her relationships, but - the hairdo's a symbol. The more important thing is the relationships themselves. Eventually I think there might be something liberating about cutting it off, even if she might eventually decide to grow it out again.

The lion, her trauma, took something away from her which was really important to her. The people around her are able to make that easier, and make up for it, and soften that loss, but... Mithrun isn't the person he was before, you know? He's a new person. The relationship he has with his brother is new, and I don't know if it's one that the person he was before could have had. If Falin hadn't died, they wouldn't have gone on that wonderful adventure! They wouldn't have met Senshi or saved Izutsumi and Laios and Marcille wouldn't have gotten so close. So I think it's totally congruent with the themes of the story that the burning away of this part of Marcille's self might eventually create the potential for new growth in a new direction, not clinging onto the parts that are gone.

This also isn't totally out of the norm for elven mages - both Otta and Flamela have short hair. Otta is canonically butch, and potentially Flamela reads that way to elves too, but the point is it clearly is possible to be an accomplished mage without long hair.

3. Desiring (to be) a chivalrous prince

Marcille's succubus is clearly General Halleus from her favourite book series, the Daltian Clan. The fact that this is her ideal man.... it certainly plays into readings of her as Not Straight. But at least, this conveys the way her conception of sex and romance is strongly idealised, dissociated from the bodily and from physical desire.

There are many ways to interpret that, including thinking about what types of desire this fixation is obstructing because she is not comfortable with it, but I am going to focus here on what this desire does signify. She likes the trappings of courtly romance, and is clearly comfortable putting herself in the role of the princess, being taken away on a white horse by a noble (but tormented; eyepatch has "death" on it lmao) prince. (Though I think he's actually the token male lead who isn't royalty; he's a General. There's always one in Romfan, lmao. IYKYK)

A kiss on the hand - this is so chaste, I think it's clear it's more about desire to play a role in a dynamic than it is about desire in a physical sense. There is undoubtedly a big part of Marcille that wants to be a beloved and chased-after princess, but I think it isn't at all impossible that she'd also enjoy being the powerful, cool, and chivalrous "prince" to someone (a pretty girl, perhaps) who needs her protection.

This is a little silly, because it's clearly just aping the shoujo artstyle that articulates basically the same idea as her succubus, that Marcille is attached to highly abstracted and idealised romantic (and Romantic) tropes and ideas. But the imaginary "successful" Marcille from chapter 4 looks quite similar to her succubus. (Another thing I noticed is that in the fantasy she has sharp ears... like full elves have. Despite what she says, I think the cultural messaging that this trait is "attractive" and hers are inferior got to her at least a bit. 😥)

Also, the way that she treats Falin, scolding her indulgently, trying to look after her and wanting to be looked up to and respected by her... that aligns more with the "masculine" role in the trope that her succubus is referencing. "What are we going to do with you...?" I can imagine her saying this to Falin, word for word. Whereas, if anyone real started talking down to her, even affectionately, I don't think she'd like it, given the negative way she reacts when people don't respect her or her skills. Especially after canon, given the way the Winged Lion was treating her.

Her attitude to Falin is partially down to her reluctance to acknowledge Falin as an adult, who is independent and can grow beyond her and leave her behind. But I think even as they move on from that unhealthy dynamic, Marcille is still going to get pleasure from feeling capable, reliable, able to look after and protect Falin. She'd like to pull the chair out for her in a restaurant on a date, you know?

4. Conclusion

Even after the growth she goes through during the story, there are parts of Marcille's character that are very much obstructed. Romance, sexuality, and gender, feel like one of those to me. The way that her discomfort with the messy origins of food betrayed a deeper, more significant discomfort with the cycles of life and death.

Much in the same way, I'd argue that the simplified, idealistic, and safely fantastical way that she views romance, as well as her very "safe" gender presentation and tendency to push it onto others as well, suggest an underlying discomfort in her own gender and sexuality. The character growth she goes through leaves her in a place where it may be possible to safely re-evaluate her relationship with Falin, as well as her choice of clothing and hairstyle, both things that go through a change at the end of the manga. Neither, I think, reach a sustainable stopping point that we see - there will be a point when it's more servants doing her hair than friends, just out of practicality, because they're all going to be so, so busy. The black clothing to copy her mum is cute, but once she gets some more self-confidence in her own skills as a court magician, I think she'll move on from it. And... who knows what direction her relationship with Falin will develop, over the years? I'm rooting for them, anyway.

In all those cases, I think moving outside of the things she's done before, into something really different from the things that are "safe" and expected, will be the most rewarding path for her. Like in the dungeon, things that she would initially reject were actually able to sustain her and broaden her tastes. She loves dressing up, looking after people, and "princely romance". So I say: Butch Marcille! It'll be good for her!!

[sytoran]

home is where the heart is ★ n.r

— 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ;; 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒 & 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇

in which your married life with natasha romanoff is depicted through this comedy-drama series. with your dream job, three kids, and a plethora of friends, each day is blissful but all the more chaotic and unpredictable. (and ultimately, very horny.)

pairing ★ sub!wife!natasha x beefy!butch!reader

chapter summary ★ twitter's sole purpose is for you to thirst over your wife, the beach is a good place to spend time with your kids, and ogle at your wife in a bathing suit, but not a great a place to have sex. (lesson learnt).

warnings ★ (MINORS DNI) - explicit content, hard stuff: beach sex, doggy style, cunnilingus, daddy kink, SO MUCH thirsting

word count ★ 4.0k (get fed gremlins)

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

*****

In tandem with Tony Stark’s spontaneity, Steve Rogers’ unending enthusiasm, and the fact that you privately owned close to twenty beach resorts in New York alone, the lot of you and your other friends had a beach outing planned for that Sunday.

After the astronomically long time it took to get your kids dressed, beach toys packed, picnic dinner prepared, and everything loaded into the car, five happy L/N-Romanoffs finally kickstart their journey to the Westview Surfers’ Beach.

“SAND!” Emilia roars maniacally, once the five of you step foot onto the sandy shore. She’s gone like the ocean breeze, sprinting into the distance, grains of sand flying everywhere.

“Sea! Sea! Sea!” Emilio is equally as excited, already by the tide of the brilliantly blue ocean, following its ebb and flow with scampering feet and delighted cries. 

“Careful, Emilio!” Marina says, holding his hand, preventing her over excited brother from falling over. You can see the way she laughs along, kicking up water with her slippers.

Behind your eager children, you swing you and Natasha’s interlocked hands as you casually stroll along the beach, giving her a sweet smile. 

The sand that crunched beneath your feet was earthen and dry, such a gentle hue of gold, almost as grounding as the bright smile your wife returned.

“You look heavenly,” you murmur, bringing up the underside of your wife’s palm to press a gentle kiss to it. She flushes prettily, the sundress she’s adorning doing wonders to her skin tone and curves.

Natasha returns the softness, pressing into your side as you wrap a firm arm around her waist, hand cupping the curve of her motherly hips.

“Oy, lovebirds!”

At the sound of a distinctly familiar voice, you and Natasha spin around with bemused looks. From a distance, you can see Tony with a flamingo floatie around his hips, waving comically.

Next to him, the regular gang is sprawled across three separate picnic mats, conveniently hidden from the sun under several large beach umbrellas. 

Pepper is fixing up Tony’s floatie, to which Carol and Valkyrie snicker at from afar. Thor is asleep on the mats, taking up more than half the area. Laura is busy reading, with Clint probably gone to find seashells for the sandcastle Bucky and Steve are constructing. The kids make a long human chain from the shore to the sandcastle, scooping up buckets of water to make a trench.

“Aunty Y/N! Aunty Nat!” Nathaniel squeals, dropping his bucket, running over and leaping into your arms.

“What’s up, you little rascal?” you ask, laughing as the youngest Barton giggles. Natasha ruffles his head, waving at Lila. 

Morgan, being the same age as Emilia and Emilio, is already chatting excitedly with them and kicking up a loud racket. Marina joins Cooper in attaining bucketfuls of seawater.

“What’s up, my favourite lesbians?” Tony calls out to you and Natasha with outstretched arms, comically ignorant to the death-glare Valkyrie shoots him. 

Natasha rolls her eyes in faux annoyance, strolling past him and brightening up animatedly to chat with the ladies. You pat Tony’s back sympathetically. 

Your attention flits to an impressively large sandcastle with a sculpture of a mermaid on top, hand-crafted by Steve and Bucky. Leaning closer to Tony, you whisper, “Why does the mermaid kinda look like you?”

Leaving him to splutter at his intentionally uncanny resemblance to the mermaid, with a seashell bra and an elegant tail, you look up to see Clint coming back with his arms full of seashells. 

“Hi, Y/N!” He greets distractedly. In the midst of his frantic haste, Clint’s foot gets caught on a stray rock —

And the rest is a scene out of a comedy movie. 

The seashells go flying out of his arms, scattering onto the picnic mat and spraying sand everywhere, Clint loses his balance and flies forward, outstretched arms knock into the sandcastle, and everyone watches in horror as Steve and Bucky’s great unfinished symphony comes crumbling down, leaving only the head of Tony’s mermaid untouched.

A quiet hush falls. 

Bucky and Steve’s faces are morphed into disbelief and heartbreak, and Clint trembles in fear with sand in his mouth. Tony shudders at his beheaded mermaid, the ladies have their hands over their mouths, and Natasha fights battles in order not to burst out laughing. Thor sleeps unperturbed, and even the kids' racket has died down.

“Well,” you announce, breaking the stunned silence. “Who wants to go surfing?”

*****

As Natasha lazes in a beach chair, away from the gory scene of Steve and Bucky dunking Clint in the seawater, she watches you with a budding fire in her belly. 

Standing on the sand so casually, you have your hefty surfboard tucked under one arm, and Emilio in your other. You’re speaking to him with a roguish grin, unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, tinted sunglasses pushed up to muss up your perfectly tousled hair. 

“You ready to ride the waves, bub?” 

“Yeah! I’m ready!”

Your wife swallows, thinking she was ready to ride something else.

Natasha crosses her legs unsubtly. It was honestly unfair, how indifferently attractive you were, like it was a state of being instead of a practised art. 

Perhaps it was her love for you and the longevity of your marriage that warped her perception of sexiness, but when you were casually strolling on the beach with that chiselled abdomen on display, who was she to be blamed?

“Y/N!” Natasha calls, sitting up slightly. There’s a devious little idea blooming in the back of her mind, and she feels like taking the bait, just for today.

You look up at your wife’s beckoning, and smile widely at her. Setting Emilio down gingerly and calling him a “little rascal”, you jog over to Natasha easily. 

When you flick your hair back, it glints in the sunlight, and so does the sheen of sweat under your sports bra, defining the cutting edges of your abdomen. Natasha has the criminal urge to rip off your swimming trunks there and then.

Despite your obliviousness, Natasha is more than well-aware of the stares you’re getting from young women and married women alike, momentarily disregarding their boyfriends and husbands to gawk at you.

“Damn, look at that fine specimen!”

“Ryan, why don’t you work out more?”

“There goes my heterosexuality.”

You get feasted upon hungry eyes like a slab of beef, likened to your beefiness, but it only makes Natasha’s possessiveness skyrocket.

“Hey, honey,” you say, settling on a low and inviting tone that has your wife blushing. You crouch down next to her beach chair, holding her hand in a sweet gesture. “What’s up?” 

You’re close to her, so close, and she can feel the heat radiating off you, and your distinct scent, and the overwhelming senses of want and need are washing over Natasha like those tidal waves in the ocean.

But well, Natasha knew more than a few ways to rile you up too.

“I think I want to go surfing too,” she lies through her teeth, having no inclination to partake in the sport. Natasha fakes a pout all too well, knowing it’s one of your many weaknesses. “But the sun’s really hot out there, so I need some help with the sunscreen.” 

It wasn’t like she’d have needed it, anyway. Just like that and you’re sold, ever the gentleman and the golden retriever, digging for the sunscreen in the duffel bag.

“Of course, honey,” you reply readily. “Is it the Banana Boat sunscreen, or is that the kids’ one? Oh wait, we have the SPF 50 one, I think that’s—”

Words trail off comically when you look back up at Natasha, gradually dying down completely.

Your wife has conveniently slid off her outer layer of a sheer white blouse, leaving her in just a matching two-piece set of an azure bathing suit. The top piece is held together with thin pieces of string, accentuating her chest in a tight cradle. The lack of coverage shows off the dip of her hips and her soft curves.

Coherent thoughts in your mindwires get severed as Natasha plays with the string on her bottom piece, nearly flashing you as the material slides down ever so slightly. Your throat dries up as her fingers trail a path over her tummy and cleavage. She plays with another bundle of string that keeps her chest barely covered, and the irresistible urge rises within you to undo it.

“My eyes are up here, y’know,” Natasha murmurs, laying on her side and looking at you through lowered lashes.

“I know where they are,” you answer hoarsely, gaze still fixated on your wife’s enticing cleavage.

The sheer amount of bare skin that Natasha is showing off has your remaining fragments of sanity falling to pieces. There’s no point even trying to hide the tent in your pants, poking uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Gonna help me lather sunscreen?” Natasha asks with a silky lilt to her voice, turning over on the beach chair. 

You groan out loud when you see the curve of your wife’s ass on display, her rounded bottom barely covered by a few measly pieces of material, all held together by flimsy strings and nothing else.

“Mhm,” you respond brainlessly, uncapping the bottle and rubbing your hands with a bountiful amount of the moisture, clearly in excess.

You begin applying your wife’s sunscreen with overzealous eagerness and desire. Large hands spread unnecessarily widely as you gain coverage over the soft skin of her back, trailing up and down and smearing the white moisture over her soft skin.

“Oh, that feels nice,” Natasha says airily, a dainty little sound that causes your cock to twitch in your shorts. 

The line down the middle of Natasha’s back is emphasised as she tenses and relaxes it. Like clockwork, you begin massaging your wife’s back to release the tension in her muscles.

“Y/N…” The breathy moan she lets out is pure heaven, dragged out from the depths of her throat, then lifting to a higher tone that washes over you in a sea of goosebumps.

Of course, your faux masseuse skillset is just a simple ploy to grope and knead at Natasha. Fat spills through your fingers as you spread your hands across her torso, as Natasha whines softly.

It wouldn’t take a genius to realise that the heat building between the two of you was not just due to the heatwaves under the beating, unforgiving sun.

Your frighteningly quickly-growing arousal only heightens when Natasha feels that her back is done and flips over. Face-to-face with her hefty mounds, a round belly, and the blown pupils of viridescent eyes — you lose the plot completely. 

Deft hands fly to your wife’s ample assets, squeezing her hips in sinful amounts and staking your claim. “You’re so pretty, baby,” you mumble, face buried into the crook of her neck, subtly mouthing at her neck.

“Mhm,” Natasha whines in agreement, but it turns into a gasp as your fingers slip underneath the material of her bra, plucking at hardened nipples in merciless haste.

You press down onto her, flat tongue and sharp teeth, licking a broad stripe up your wife’s exposed collarbone to the tender column of her neck.

Before you can taint clear skin with raging-purple bruises, you’re pulled away with a firm grip on the back of your neck. You look back up to see Natasha gazing at you sternly. 

“Let’s try not to perpetuate public sex while you are the owner of this place, with all our friends present, and the kids building sandcastles no less than ten feet away.”

Much to your disgruntlement, these factors weigh in heavily and overpower your body’s built-in “pretty-wife-need-to-worship” mechanic. Now, your shorts fill up a lot more space than need be, your shaft pressing hot and tight against your left leg, clearly visible.

You grumble, hands still clammy with sunblock, the ghost of Natasha’s warmth still interlaced between each of your fingers. “You’re a meanie,” you sulk, lust-driven adrenaline coursing through your veins.

Natasha looks at you with a wicked smile. “And you’re too susceptible, darling. Now, where’s my flask? I plan on staying plenty hydrated before watching you rough it out against the waves.”

Clearly put-off by not being able to fuck your wife in your public beach resort, you flip off a little kid who openly ogles at Natasha’s ass, much to your wife’s horror.

*****

“I’M NOT BUILT FOR THIS!” Tony screams, arms flailing, as he rides a shallow wave. His firmly implanted foot adds too much weight on the front of his neon yellow surfboard, and the over-eager man overturns comically as the current rushes.

You laugh out loud, Hawaiian shirt flapping in the wind, surfing past Tony in a smooth motion. “Stick to the flamingo floatie, little guy!”

Valkyrie barely dodges the splash Tony creates, nearly falling off her own board. “Fuck off, you cunt!” she yells, full-chested and deadly focused on the tide. From a distance in the shallower part of the ocean, a reprimanding “Language!” can be heard.

Natasha’s wading in the shallower waters with Laura, while Thor had opted to sun tan on the beach while watching the kids.

As a large wave approaches, Natasha watches with intent. Upon your wife’s new found attention, you mentally prepare yourself, determined to impress her, and perhaps get revenge for her prior ploy.

You manoeuvre deftly, putting weight on your back foot to stabilise as you approach the wave head-on. Three… two… one. You add even more weight on your back foot as you go around the back turn while gaining speed, garnering energy like a coiled spring.

As the wave reaches its full height, broad and steep, your calves release with impact, propelling up the barrel of the wave like a spring. The surfboard moves in effortless motion, anchored by your back foot, navigated by your right.  

The second you reach the lip of the wave, you find the sweet spot to execute the backside tail slide. You rotate your wide-set shoulders, swiftly switching the pressure to your front foot. 

Your surfboard glides off the surface for a split-second, turning mid-air — there’s a camera-worthy frame of damp hair, stray droplets, and focused eyes.

You slide back down at an oblique angle with purpose and precision, like a scene out of a movie, locking eyes with Natasha as the wave crashes behind you.

“Damn, Y/N!” Carol hoots, looking amazed as you surf back to the rest of the gang.

“That was crazy,” Steve adds, resting belly-down onto the surfboard, strikingly adorable for a hulking man.

“Gotta admit, that was pretty cool,” Tony comments, his head bobbing above the surface of the water and his surfboard nowhere to be found.

You laugh along with them, attempting to explain the technical jargon of how you did it. But as much as you appreciated your friends’ enthusiasm, there was ultimately only one person you sought validation from. 

“Hi,” you say to Natasha with a stupid smile, sitting on your surfboard, having escaped the rest. 

“That was very sexy of you,” your wife wastes no time in stating, as if she wasn’t five millimetres away from flashing you and killing you with her sexiness. 

Natasha is stuck on the image of your damp hair flying into place like a scene out of a superhero movie, unbuttoned shirt flailing up to expose your defined back and abdomen, concentration flashing in your eyes.

“Mhm,” you hum lowly. Fire burns low in your belly as you ogle your wife in her bathing suit, pulling her closer by the underside of her thighs.

In a moment of indiscretion, your left hand slips upwards and undoes the knot on Natasha’s bathing suit, letting the material slip from your fingers.

“Y/N!” Though blocked from view of the others as it was underwater, Natasha lets out a breathy gasp and presses into you. Her cunt, already soaked before, gets even wetter at the intrusion of seawater.

“Can I claim my prize?” you ask heavily, hot pants against your wife’s ear, driving her wild with the way your fingers slip through her folds to encroach on her entrance.

In no time at all, two of your fingers are at Natasha’s cunt, feeling slick even underwater, and you push in—

“Group picture!” Steve yells from a distance, as you and your wife effectively leap apart in the water, the heated moment dissipated into thin air. 

But it lingers, the arousal, swimming in the back of your consciousness as you smile for a group selfie. Bucky’s arm is around you but you thank the heavens for hiding your erection under the water.

You can tell Natasha feels the same, eyes locking on you even after Steve successfully takes the group picture. (After many attempts.)

“I’m gonna go check on the kids,” Natasha finally says, gesturing back as if she was going to walk back to shore. She’s expectant, waiting.

“And I think I’m gonna go check with her!” you add, chuckling awkwardly, beckoning backwards with your thumbs.

“Okay,” Steve says disbelievingly, eyes glimmering with knowing and just a little amusement. Tony is much less subtle in his sniggering, and Clint looks horrified at the prospect of doing it at the beach.

Tony claps you on the back as you walk past. “Use protection,” he whispers, and you fumble out a haphazard response. 

*****

Turns out, you and Natasha don’t even make it to a completely secluded area before you’re half-undressed and panting. 

And maybe that’s half the thrill, hidden in a secluded beach cave, with regular people roaming around just outside. You’re pressed skin-to-skin with each other and tuning out everything else.

You groan as you snap the strings of Natasha’s bathing suit off, finally, finally. Teardrop tits bounce in place, shaking with the impact of how hard you jerk against your wife, unbearably uncomfortable in the constraints of your boxers.

Natasha takes mercy on you, helping you to tug down your Calvin Clein briefs, watching with heady arousal as your shaft slaps against your six-pack, red and raw and leaking.

“Hurry up,” Natasha whines, bending over and clutching at a stray rock, ass in the air as she exposes her leaking cunt to you. 

“Fuck, baby,” you groan, grabbing onto her ass and slapping it just because you can. You sink deep into your wife, warmth and relief enveloping you as you bury yourself inside her.

The first thrust is like heaven, feeling the pulse and push of Natasha’s walls as she accommodates to take your size, stretching to a familiar extent because you’d made a nest in there for yourself. 

The second thrust takes you there, an insurgent amount of slick coating your cock, flooding the path you proceed to pummel into. “Natty,” you whine, groping at her ass and pulling it closer to you, hilt-deep with no signs of stopping.

“Mhm, daddy,” Natasha moans, walls fluttering around you as you pull out, trying to stop your escape. But then you thrust forward, again, warm and full and deep, and your wife wails beneath you.

Natasha lets this velvet sound from her throat, silky and coated in honey as she breathes reinvigorated life into your arousal.

“Fuck,” you growl, rutting your hips with more rigour. Natasha whines, wrists suspended behind her back with one of your hands as you have your way with her.

“Baby I’m gonna come,” you gasp, virility cloaking the way your abdomen presses up against Natasha, left hand encircling her neck to bring your hot mouth up to hers.

You’re hardly embarrassed for how fast you’re barrelling towards climax, as Natasha is in much more of the same position. She’s panting your name, clutching at the rocks with hard sand digging into her feet. Your cock nudges and prods into her sweet spots effortlessly, the result of countless sex experiences.

“M-me too,” she responds breathily, breaking off into a whine as you press heated, open-mouthed kisses along the line of her back, tasting the salt and sweat on your tongue.

Pleasure blossoms in your lower torso, creeping up the base of your shaft and working its way upwards. Hot arousal overflows from its constraints, and your teeth sinks into your bottom lip as you come, quick and hot and messy.

“Oh!” Natasha moans, high-pitched and sensitive, as you pluck at her ruby-hard nipples. It only takes a few more thrusts for her to reach release, dripping down your cock and her thighs.

“Mhm, nhn—” As your wife raises in pitch and volume, you stuff three fingers into her open mouth, giving her something to suck on and remain quiet. You continue with gentle thrusts, feeling thick white liquid flow out the side of Natasha’s ruined cunt.

“Needa taste you,” you suddenly grunt, hips bumping into Natasha’s ass. She babbles her agreement, despite being half-conscious in a state of post-orgasmic pleasure. 

Easily, you lift Natasha and set her down onto the sandy shore of the beach cave, where the tide is low and washes over your feet gently.

It’s a change of pace, a gradual end to your savage ravaging, slow and sensual, where the water meets the sand. You lower yourself between Natasha’s spread thighs, lips slightly parted and dripping with need.

Natasha swallows audibly, right hand twisting into your tousled hair, looking at you through hooded eyes and lowered lashes. 

Words are left unspoken between the two of you, the tension speaking for itself, as you retain eye contact while lowering your mouth onto Natasha’s pulsing cunt.

You take your last breath of the fresh sea salt air and summer breeze before drowning in unbridled desire. As if making out passionately, you eat your wife out, switching between licking and sucking.

Poetry is written between the lines — the lilt of Natasha’s hitched breath, the crease of her thighs where your fingertips drag across, the shallow water that wades over your feet in a cool decrescendo.

Your head dips down once more, warm and wet, and the sun melts into the horizon, glazing golden and liquid orange. 

With your tongue lodged fully inside your wife’s pussy, marking your inability to breathe, and wide hands spread firmly over Natasha’s thighs, the two of you converge in saintly devotion, hushed worship falling from her lips.

“Please, just like that, please, daddy, please.”

Just like that, and the ocean swallows you whole, taking you under Natasha’s hold inescapably. Your name is said in a breathless cry, lilting and pronounced, and you shudder between her clenched thighs.

“Nat?”

“Yeah?”

“I think there’s ocean water up my asshole.”

“Yeah, I got some sand up my vagina too.”

*****

and that's chapter two of 'hiwthi'! how did yall feel about the introduction of the rest of the cast? i personally enjoyed writing the build-up scenes the most. (sunscreen and surfing!) and for those keen on expanding the family dynamic, i'll be building on that in the next chapter!

reblog or i will take 292857192 years to post the next part

SERIES MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

[oldwritingm]

Thinking thoughts about these guys again

Creepypasta/MH - Things That Make Them Think of You

Characters: Jeff the Killer, Jane the Killer, Clockwork, Nina the Killer, Tim/Masky, "Ticci" Toby

Jeff the Killer

Violence. Specifically, committing it

I know that sounds bad, but he gets so high off of that stuff

The adrenaline rushing through his veins, the wild smile that comes to his face, the noise, the sights... it's euphoria for him

And when he reaches his peak, endorphins at maximum saturation, that's when he thinks of you

It's almost like he subconsciously asks himself if there's anything in the world that could make him happy like this, and his subconscious responds by conjuring an image of you

As if he couldn't get any happier, thinking of you just pushes him higher

This happens a lot...

He'll be killing someone, already over the moon, then he'll blast to Mars when he thinks of you

And he starts associating you with violence; even if you're the gentlest person in the world

It's the happiness it brings him that links it to you

Though if you're a psycho (affectionate) like him, there might be another reason he associates it with you lol

It just gets worse over time; eventually he can't even see other people committing violent acts without thinking of you

He'll be watching a horror movie, and blood will splatter the screen and he'll be like: Nice. Y/n's nice too. Y/n... <3

Jane the Killer

Quite the opposite of Jeff; it's the quiet moments that get her thinking of you

(my reasoning is confusing but I'll try my best to explain T-T)

And there are two reasons for this

One, because whenever she gets a moment to think to herself, her brain always wants to think of you first

Maybe it's just hunting that hit of dopamine it gets when she imagines your smile, or the way your hands feel in hers...

Or maybe it's just that it's become a habit for her to think of you so often, so it's second-nature that she does so when she gets the chance

But the second reason is that she loves peace, and you are her peace :)

She's a vengeful person with a lot of turmoil inside, so when her environment is peaceful, she tries to follow suit

She's just taking what she can get before she has to go back to hate and obsession

So she imagines the peaceful things in her life

Namely, you

Even if you're not a very peaceful person, she feels at ease when she's with you

So, when it's quiet, she thinks of you to quiet herself

Memories of forehead touches and holding hands are more than enough to fill the silence :)

Clockwork

Literally everything.

I’ve mentioned this in a previous post, but Clockwork will find the most random things that remind her of you

She’s got a very creative mind; she can find the subtlest of things that make her think of you

Oftentimes they’ll be disturbing things…. Like a dead animal or smth

But she gets a little smile when she thinks of you anyway :)

She’ll probably send you a picture of whatever it was that reminded her of you

So you’ll just get a text out of nowhere like:

[picture of a dead wasp] “thought of you <3”

After a while you’ll learn to just not ask

Because you’ll definitely get one of these texts AT LEAST every other day, if not every day

Sometimes they’re actually nice things though! Like a song or a pretty sunset :)

Or something she saw while shopping that made her think of you; she always makes sure to steal …obtain those things

And ofc she gifts them to you 😌

Nina the Killer

I think it depends on your aesthetic

To me, Nina is someone who’s very in tune with aesthetics

Even if yours is super niche, or it doesn’t fit under a specific category like “emo” or “butch” or even “clowncore,” she’s got it DOWN

And so it’s always things that fit your aesthetic that make her think of you

Maybe it’s a view: a dark forest, a bright sunset in your favorite color, a sunny park, an eerily empty sidewalk…

Maybe it’s clothing: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets… always the exact kind of thing you’d wear :)

Maybe it’s music: she listens to music like. All the time. So she’s definitely at least dipped her toes into a genre that’s so totally you

Or maybe it’s something miscellaneous: a pop tart flavor, a blanket, a picture, the color on a soda dispenser…

No matter what it is, you’re guaranteed to love it

She always manages to surprise you with yet another random thing perfectly suited to your aesthetic

And she’s always on the hunt for more >;)

If it’s something she can physically bring to you, you best believe she will though

And if you decide you hate it (you won’t, but maybe later when your aesthetic changes), you guys light a bonfire and burn it together :)

Tim/Masky

It’s a Polaroid picture of you

He’s not in the picture; it’s just you

The flash is on, illuminating you and leaving the background in dark obscurity

He took it himself one night when he was just enamored with the way you looked

He did it casually, just telling you to look at the camera

The rest was all you; maybe you smiled, maybe you threw up a peace sign…

Whatever you did, he felt it captured your essence perfectly

He stared at the photo for a long time after it came out, and he still stares at it frequently

He carries it deep in his wallet where no one can find it

He’ll pull it out when he needs to think of you, usually when he’s especially down

Which is pretty often, my boy is troubled :(

He’ll trace his fingers around the edges, remembering that night

Your voice fills his ears, your scent fills his nose, and suddenly he’s aching to see you in person again

And he will; he’ll probably call or text you soon :)

“Ticci” Toby

Honestly? Probably something super obscure related to some kind of inside joke between you two

I’ll paint an example

Maybe you two were in the kitchen together, and you wanted him to get out the milk for you

But you ended up calling it a “mug of jilk” instead of a “jug of milk”

Toby, of course, bursts into laughter

He teases you for ages afterwards, calling milk “jilk” and always pointing out jugs of milk with a knowing grin

You’re in on it too though

You always snicker whenever he does those things

Maybe that’s why it becomes so special to him; it amuses the both of you

He gets to laugh and hear you laugh :D

So (in this case) he’ll think of you whenever he sees a mug of j (oh gosh oh no you guys got me too) jug of milk

And he probably takes pictures to send you too

You’ll just get a text that says “jilk mugs spotted ‼️” and a picture of the milk aisle at the grocery store

He likes to imagine your laugh when he sends texts like those :)

Thank you so much for reading!! Take care my lovey doves <33

(divider by saradika)

[silkentine]

Okay okay okay everyone be cool.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! IT’S SANJI’S TURN!!! I think my bias really shines through by the fact that there are four illustrations rather than my usual three. Not to mention… this isn’t even half of the busts that I’ve drawn and also none of these are post-timeskip. I need to make a whoooole other character sheet for post-timeskip Sanji. She changes a lot in two years.

But I digress, here are my design notes for Sanji: (WARNING includes discussion of Sanji’s journey during the timeskip. There are also some super duper minor vague spoilers for whole cake island but those are written in blue so you can skip over them easily.)

So personality wise, I wanted to keep a lot of her complex relationship with femininity and gender. She grew up under the care of super butch Zeff who taught her that being a girl doesn’t mean that you have to be girly; in fact, it’s probably best if you toughen up so you can protect people who need it. Sanji takes this to heart and becomes a total tomboy, she believes that she’s rejected her feminine side completely.

She’s also a diehard romantic!! She’s the dashing prince who has come to save every damsel she comes across. She finds it very easy to flirt with women because it was very much the modus operandi on the Baratie, but she’s all talk. She gets flustered very easily once any romantic endeavor starts to bear fruit. She’ll make some poignant revelations about why once she lives in the Kamabakka Kingdom.

So why isn’t she wearing a suit? Because I’m a whore for an apron. It’s the perfect way to establish the silhouette of a dress but maintain a clean, utilitarian appearance. Fem!Sanji is more line-cook than waitress, but she DOES wear menswear pieces. I’ve put her in a silk vest with flared slacks in one outfit and she’s sporting that cute tie from Long Ring Long Land in another. Very preppy. I think she mostly wears tidier versions of Sanji’s more casual outfits: patterned button ups, cargo shorts, tees. She is religious about keeping her nails clean and manicured though. As fussy as canon Sanji is about his suits? Fem!Sanji is tenfold more fussy about her nails. She never wears polish (it could chip into the food) but her digits are trimmed perfectly and buffed to a shine.✨

She has a birthmark(?) at the nape of her neck that isn’t a scar but doesn’t tan. No one’s ever noticed it before because she was pretty good about staying inside when she lived on the Baratie but, now that she’s out adventuring on a much smaller ship, she finds herself basking in the sun more often and the mark is becoming more defined. She would be mortified to know it was there, especially since it doesn’t show up on the four other people who have similar marks because their skin cells are invulnerable to UV. (Inspired by @themetalhiro )

I love Sanji so so so so so so much. This design is like… 50% what I wish I looked like, 49% what I think is hot, and 1% forced-feminized transponder snail. I’ll have so much more to say about her characterization when I post the next version. Let me know your thoughts in the replies!!

[chainmail-butch]

i was talking to a friend who's a trans woman about this. she used to be really weird about butch trans women, but ended up being butch herself. she told me she was adverse to it because "it was like watching someone leave their house completely naked. you feel maybe a little embarrassed for them but you're mostly scared for how other people are going to treat them too. [she] thought "well, [she'd] be embarrassed doing the same and maybe they were having a hard time passing. but then finding out they're doing it on purpose, [she] thought that they were making a joke of being trans, like they were enforcing the stereotype of just saying you were a woman despite not making any effort to look like one. [she] was confused as to why anyone would do that, especially when she'd been having a hard time being treated well even though she did everything to make herself like a cis girl." she hated having to put in so much effort into looking feminine but did it because she was sure that's just what you had to do. obviously, probably regardless of how she looked, she was going to be treated like shit on the principal of being trans and after actually talking to butches and thinking about it more, she decided to just dress how she felt comfortable and still be proud of being a woman.

That's very interesting to hear. That is the consistent impression I've gotten from well meaning trans women.

I had to wrestle with the whole, "declaring myself a woman without making the effort," thing. When I first transitioned I put on dresses, tried on makeup, and got cute jackets. None of it felt right. I knew, entirely, that I was a woman. But doing all of the things women were supposed to be doing made me feel even worse than when I had lived as a man, which is saying something.

I eventually figured out that there is plenty of effort to being a butch woman. There are still styles, there are still pieces of gendered clothing, there are still gendered actions, they're just hidden in plain sight. They're all the things I wanted to do and all the ways that I wanted to be perceived that I couldn't understand until someone (Leslie Feinberg) held a mirror to my face (SBB) and said Butch. Then it all clicked.

I've been doing HRT for three full years now. I've been socially transitioned for three full years now. It is work. It is a challenge. It is walking out of the house with nothing but your soul and what you choose to armor it with. For some women the armor is a dress and a full face of makeup. For me its leather and boots.

I love my sisters deeply. I love women deeply. I love womanhood deeply. But my womanhood is also deliberately not womanhood. My selfish desire is a world where I can be exactly who I am without having to justify it to every woman, trans or cis, that crosses my path. But that's not gonna happen any time soon.

As so many butches, cis and trans, have said, It is a difficult road to walk and I have no choice but to walk it.

[silliestgirlintheworld]

The demons in my brain refused to let me rest until I drew Phyuri so here you go :)

(some headcanons under the cut bc I love yapping)

I feel like Dani and Fi during the peak of their career would accidentally get slotted into the 2010's niche of "not like other girls" content and they'd both have really complicated feelings about it, especially due to their sexualities and how they each feel about gender.

It would confuse Fi, as she doesn't want to imply that she thinks less of women around her but she also feels deeply uncomfortable with expressing herself femininely. She knows she wants to dress more masc and explore that part of herself (butch fi forever!!) but she lacks the self confidence, so for most of the peak of their career she just comes off as very uncomfortable with femininity in an internalized misogyny sort of way. Cue think pieces about how "Fi is setting a bad example for young girls by not embracing her womanhood" and extremely uncomfortable viewers pick my outfits videos where she's forced into dresses. Eventually after cutting all her hair off in 2018 and coming out she'd figure things out and be much happier and more free and I think a lot of people would feel bad about how she was treated while she was trying to work shit out.

I think Dani would lean into it, the idea of being "not like other girls" feels very in line with old danisnotonfire sketches and it would be a way of coping with feeling like she can't measure up to the societal expectations of women as a deeply closeted lesbian. She'd dress femme in a 2010's tumblr grunge sort of way and wear a lot of makeup but it would never feel fully authentic. Post coming out this would all fuck with her head, both in terms of reckoning with a lot of problematic rhetoric she spread due to her internalized misogyny, and also now she finally feels free to express herself how she wants, but what does she even want? I think Dan in every universe would always have some gender stuff going on and I can clearly in my mind imagine Dani going on yap tangents about how differently straight girls and lesbians express their own femininity and whether or not she even wants to be feminine at all deep down because her only experience with it is years trying to conform to heteronormative ideals of what femininity is whilst closeted. She's on a long journey to figure out a form of expression that feels right to her and I don't see her identifying as a femme lesbian because I think no version of Dan would want to fully commit to a label and she's got her own secret third thing going on. Danigender.

[thatneoncrisis]

could you explain your reasoning for butch harrow? im asking this in a way a student asks a master

ok so. up top: do i think harrow is butch in canon? no. god no. absolutely not. secret third category of person. not butch or femme shes just like A Guy who really fucking likes black

however i do think that between those two ends of a nebulous spectrum, being butch would be way more comfortable for her than femme, if we think of it in the most traditional sense for both sides. there are literally exceptions to every rule femmes can have short hair and wear pants, butches can have long hair and wear makeup yadda yadda. but the way she interacts with certain elements of her presentation in canon just felt to ME, PERSONALLY, that being traditionally feminine would freak her the fuck out

ive seen people compare her compulsion to wear the skull paint to a need to wear makeup and i. very much disagree. id see it more as like, an overtly religious thing, like a nuns habit or a hijab, its modesty and how she shows respect for her god, also routine, its as natural as putting on pants for her. and also frankly if it was an analog for traditional makeup that would be uuuuh awful. like I genuinely feel terrible for women who cannot even leave the house without foundation or contouring or whatever i dont know shit about makeup but holy fuck. if shes femme in that analog id be shaking her by the shoulders GIRL. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE A NAKED ANIMAL

another thing is her hair. so many people read her having short hair and immediately went to a bob or a pixie cut. and between tamsyns inconsistent description of the length of her hair in book one (saying its stuck to her face with sweat despite them being there for like, a month) and the htn cover being The best image we have of her, i understand that conclusion. but in the beginning of gtn its said its close cropped, tamsyn said on her blog post describing all the characters its "cut short (as benefits someone in a monestary)" which is a very interesting choice of words tbh. like im sute she didnt mean harrow is completely bald in the middle with a ring of hair but that Is the monk haircut. and then finally harrow says to gideon outright "i wont cut you bald-even though your hair is ridiculous- because I know you wont shave it every day" which i always took to mean being shaved down to the scalp is just how the ninth is traditionally. in harrow the ninth its said "occasionally ticklish rasps at your ears or forehead would frighten you numb before you realized ut was your own hair" indicating that she is not used to that length at all. also theres the fact that ianthe made her hair grow faster particularly to fuck with her. in short harrows haircut is shitty and utilitarian and any fussing with it has only been described in relation to her direct discomfort

finally theres that goddamn dress scene. why did ianthe put her in that stupid fucking thing. humilation tactic (im exaggerating but it basically was explicitly and exclusively for ianthes own amusement). shes such a simple girl, she just wanted something that could cover her up. its not impossible to have a longsleeved formless dress, but beyond my own opinion that i think harrow would have been uncomfortable in anything, i think the fact this like, explicit symbol of femininity is used to further degrade her in some sense in a room full of people who font reapect her feels like. intentional on the authors end. it quite literally just isnt her, its not even a true black its like a deep midnight blue. you get the pretty woman makeover scene but harrow comes out of it more miserable and resigned than ever. augustines approval means nothing. she looks in the mirror and sees her mother, a woman she appears to not have a single fond memory about. its all very sad

tldr when i talk about butch harrow its less about her "being butch" and more about how unfemme i think she is. also i want more butch4butch dykes i think gideon and camilla should teach her how to tie a tie.

[archangeldyke-all]

hiii angel 💕 do you think you could write a lil smth about butch sev helping her very drunk femme gf with her skincare routine when she comes home from a night out with her friends? like the girl’s completely useless, sprawled out in bed while sevika gently wipes off her makeup & applies her little moisturizers n shit. drunk gf gets all sappy and romantic. i feel like that would be adorable!!

(hc’d this while high muahahasfjdk)

so so so cute

men and minors dni

sevika wakes up to the sound of giggling and a crash.

she fell asleep on the couch waiting for you to get home, and now as she rises, she finds you flat on your back in the entry way of your home. sevika chuckles and makes her way over to you.

"hi baby." she greets as she bends down to help pick you up from where you've fallen.

"s'vika!" you exclaim, smiling at her like you've been apart for months. her heart melts at the sight, and when she's got you steady on your feet again, she can't resist swooping in a planting a kiss on your cheek. "'m home!" you inform her. she laughs.

"yes, you are." she confirms as she gently ushers you toward the bedroom. "how are the girls?" she asks.

tonight was the first time in months you and your friends have all been free to meet up. what was meant to be an easy, quick dinner, turned into an hours long gossip and drinking session. now, it's nearly one in the morning, and you can't walk in a straight line. sevika has to reach out to keep you from bumping into tables and walls.

"they're good. fuckin' crazy." you giggle. "i missed you though." you pout, turning around in the middle of the hallway to collapse in sevika's arms.

she laughs, wrapping you up in a hug. "i missed you too, baby." she says, kissing your scalp. you hum against her neck. "c'mon. lets get you ready for bed."

she hauls you up off the ground with her arms under your ass, and you squeal, clinging onto her like a koala and cackling as she guides you toward the bathroom.

sevika can't keep her wide smile off her face at the sound of your drunken giggles-- you're always so silly when you get liquor in your system. she adores it.

she sets you down on the sink counter gently, rubbing your back as you continue to nuzzle against her throat. "y' smell s'good." you mumble.

sevika giggles. "do i?" she asks as her hands start unzipping the back-zipper of your dress. you pull away from her neck to grin at her, waggling your eyebrows.

"you tryna get me naked, sev?" you ask.

sevika cackles. "not for whatever you're thinkin' of babe. gotta get you in your pajamas."

you pout at her. "we can't even make out a little?"

sevika has to pinch herself from kissing you right here and now. instead she just grins at you and shakes her head fondly.

"if you're still awake by the time i get in bed next to you, sure, we can make out." she offers, knowing you'll be asleep the moment your head hits the pillow.

it's enough to placate you.

she gets you naked, then puts one of her old shirts on you, her hips between your thighs where you sit on the counter as she helps guide your arms through the proper holes.

when your face pops out of the neck hole sevika laughs, swooping forward to kiss your scrunched nose. "you're so cute." she mumbles.

you smile happily. "says you."

sevika's watched you get ready and un-ready every day for nearly a year now. she knows your routine like the back of her hand.

with your chin pinched between her fingers, she gently guides your head to and fro as she washes your face clear of all your makeup. you're half asleep, humming as she gently rubs your face, nuzzling into her touch.

"you're adorable." sevika whispers as she rings out a washcloth.

you blink your eyes open to look up at her, and sevika's heart stops for a moment at the sweet, trusting look you shoot her.

"you take such good care'a me, sev." you whisper sleepily, your eyes heavy as you blink up at your girlfriend. "i love you so much."

sevika swallows the lump forming in her throat and squeezes your chin. "close your eyes again." she whispers. you do. she wipes the washcloth over your face and takes the time to collect herself.

god, she loves you. she's never cared about someone like this before.

you jump a bit at the sudden cool feeling of your moisturizer on your skin, and you and sevika both giggle at your reaction.

she takes a bit of extra time to massage all your creams in, adoring the way you're practically purring in her hands at her attention, trying to work out all the tension you carry in your jaw and between your eyebrows.

and then, once she's got your hair ready for bed and your face and body lotion all rubbed in, she wraps your arms and legs around her body and gently carries you to bed.

she makes you drink a big glass of water, then refills it and leaves it and a bottle of painkillers on your bedside table.

and when she crawls in bed beside you, you wake up just enough to turn over, lay on top of sevika's chest and sigh. "i still wanna make out in the mornin'."

sevika bursts into laughter, and kisses your head.

"sure, baby." she promises, knowing you'll be too hungover to do much more than lie in a dark room in the morning. "whenever you want."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @realgreeniebeanie @k3n-dyll

@sevsdollette @ellieslob

[joszns]

party animal ✭

butch!ellie x fem!reader

content: drinking/drunk sex, oral sex (r recieving) strap on usage, semi-public sex (bathroom), jealousy, mild degradation, ellie has the worst case of phantom dick ever when she’s drunk

summary: after a lovely dinner date (not without some teasing of course) you have a few too many drinks without her at a friends party and she whisks you to the bathroom to remind you something.

a/n: thank u guys so so much for all the love truly😭❤️❤️BESITOS

“hey ellie, you almost ready baby?” you called out, applying mascara and looking at yourself in the mirror.

you adjusted my dress, a black satin piece with a deep slit and a traditional slip neckline, adorned with flowery lace along the hem. you smiled at your appearance and left the bathroom, putting on your matching black heels and an oversized leather jacket.

you and ellie were going out to dinner, then to a house party for one of your friends, mimi. it was her birthday.

“could you help me put this watch on, dollface?” ellie asked, walking into the room.

“oh my god, you look so beautiful. that dress looks amazing on you.” she said with a smile, pulling you close by the waist and kissing your plump and glossy red lips.

“is that my leather jacket?”

you grinned sheepishly and kissed her again. “maybe…but I know you don’t mind.”

“god, you’re so perfect…” ellie muttered against your lips, kissing you more intensely. she pulled you closer by the waist which caused you to blush.

“mmm…” you leaned into her, hands looped over her neck snugly.

“no, ellie! we have a reservation at a very nice restaurant. im not doing this with you right now.” you exclaimed, pulling away suddenly and gathering your things into a purse.

ellie whined in response.

“god, fine. whatever. are we still going to that party?” she asked, following you out the door with her car keys in hand.

“yes, yes we are! it’s for one of my best friends.” you said back, rolling your eyes. ellie could get a little snappy when she’s turned on like this. honestly, it was kinda hot…

★・・・・・・★

“man…that food hit the spot.”

ellie got into the car happily, after opening your door of course.

she turned the key in the ignition and placed her hand behind your headrest while reversing, something that always got you a bit hot and bothered.

“i agree. that salmon was delicious.” you say casually, texting mimi that ellie and i were on the way.

“could you map the way to mimis for me baby?” ellie asked, resting her hand on your upper thigh. you nodded in reply, typing in the address and navigating as you left the restaurant.

“ooh els, can I have aux? pretty please?” you reached for the cord, pressing your chest together to show off your cleavage and grinning.

ellie glanced over and rolled her eyes. she knew what you were doing.

“whatever you want, babygirl.”

excitedly, you connected your phone and played your favorite song. on the next turn, you felt ellies hand move upwards and slide in between the fabric of your dress. her knuckles pressed into you, her pinky finger rubbing gently on your clit. you whined softly, adding more songs to the queue and trying to ignore her.

finally, you both arrived to the party, ellie being casually laid back versus you being sexually frustrated.

“i cant believe you! what’s up with all this teasing?” you scolded, punching her shoulder.

“that was payback for earlier.” ellie replied, walking inside and greeting mimi with a grin.

you did the same, rolling your eyes at her behavior.

“victim of the sassy masc apocalypse?” mimi asked, bringing you back from your head.

“dude. you have no idea!” you said with a giggle. mimi smiled and excitedly dragged you to take shots, leaving ellie alone.

she watched you and a few girls drink together, smiling a little and turning away. the urge to whisk you away from the group was strong, but it was a birthday party. she couldn’t do much.

“god, how many shots did we just take?” you said with a laugh, shaking your head as the alcohol burned your mouth.

“like 21- one for every year! don’t worry, these things are like mini cocktails. i think only the last two were straight vodka…” mimi slurs, laughing as she throws her arm around the blonde girl next to her.

you smile, the liquor warming your body.

“oh! oh! picture time!” she exclaims, pulling out her phone. the group gathers behind her, you following as well. everyone smiles, and she clicks almost a hundred photos.

ellie returns to the kitchen for a drink, a tinge of jealousy on her as she sees one of your friends’ arms hooked on your waist. you broke away from the group, smiling at the sight of her.

“babe! ill be with you in a sec,” you said, getting dragged away by mimi, “she wants to dance!”

ellie just smiled in response, sipping her drink. she casually followed you to the dance floor, getting increasingly more jealous as several of your friends danced up on you. you were laughing, taking photos and videos on your phone.

as the girls began to break away, dancing with other friends to make everyone feel included or to grab another drink, you gravitated towards ellie.

“hey babe! why are you being all mopey in the corner?” you said, giggling.

“i was just waiting for you. i kinda have to pee.” she said as she took another sip.

“let’s go!!” you took her hand, the liquor bringing back your arousal.

as you both arrived to the bathroom and saw the line, you formed your lips into a pout.

“mimi would hate me for this…do you wanna go upstairs to the guest bathroom? she usually blocks it off during parties because it’s a nice bathroom, but it’s just us…” you suggested, batting your eyelashes as you looked up at her.

privacy. perfect. “yeah, sure.” ellie responded, grinning internally as she finished off her drink. both of you stumbled towards the stairs, sneaking up when nobody was looking.

ellie pulled you into the bathroom, locking the door and pressing your back against it.

“didn’t you have to pee?” you asked, heart beating faster as you looked up to her.

“no,” she replied, leaning closer to you. “i just…i need you so bad, y/n.” ellie said, voice low and raspy.

you blushed, feeling yourself get wetter.

“i know they’re just your friends, fuck, i don’t even know why it’s botherin’ me so much.” she muttered, leaning her head on your shoulder. her hot breath fanned your neck, causing you to shiver.

“what..what do you mean?” you asked, breathing harder.

“i just get so..” she kissed your neck, causing your breath to catch, “ so worked up seeing you with other girls…” ellie continued, kissing your neck again.

you felt your knees buckle, tilting your head to the side to expose more of your neck.

ellie hums against your skin, her kisses growing more sloppy.

“don’t even know why i was all jealous..” she kisses you aggressively, her hand holding your face to hers. you whimper, melting into her. your hands travel over her clothed body, stopping at a hard lump in her pants.

pulling away in surprise, you asked, “did you really wear your strap all evening?”

“yeah. i wore it in case i needed to remind you you’re mine.” ellie whispered, kissing you again and hiking your dress up. her hand quickly pushed your thighs apart and started rubbing at your clit, feeling the wet spot your slick created.

“so fuckin wet, all f’me, yeah baby?” she said, causing you to moan. in your drunken state, you were like putty in her hands. ellie dropped to her knees, her mouth replacing those long and flexible fingers.

she practically made out with your pussy, her mind foggy from the drinks she consumed. all she could think about was you infront of her, melting in her mouth. she felt herself getting more and more wet as she lapped at you, her tongue circling your swollen clit as she suctioned softly with her mouth.

she always knew how to drive you crazy.

you were a mess, legs trembling as you tangled your hands in her hair. she looked up at you, watching you fall apart and try to keep quiet.

her mouth was amazing, knowing just where to go and when to do it. she flicked her tongue on your clit, bringing you close to the edge.

“el..ellie…m’gonna cum…oh my fucking god…” you whimpered, your thighs clamped so hard they were threatening to squish her head flat. she pulled away from your cunt abruptly, causing you to whine in frustration.

she licked her lips clean, kissing you passionately as she struggled to unzip her jeans. “gonna fuck you so good…” she mumbled, her drunken state clouding her mind.

ellie broke the heated kiss, looking down and attempting to position herself properly. eager for her, you hiked your leg over her hip and scooted downward, gasping and staring into her eyes as her strap filled you up.

“fuuuckk….” she groaned, her hips pushing forward slightly. you let out a whimper as her tip pressed against the end of your canal, clenching hard as you adjusted to her size.

“so fucking tight baby-you’re so tight..” ellie grunted, starting to thrust her hips.

you moaned in response, your head hitting the door. she took this as an opportunity to bite your neck, something she did happily.

“my dirty fuckin’ slut, look at you taking my dick, fuck baby..” ellie grunted out. “just slidin’ in and out of ya…you’re so damn wet..” her pace increased as she panted hot and heavy into your neck. you swore she could feel it sometimes, the way she spoke to you while you had sex.

“nobody but me gets to fuck this slutty pussy yeah? ‘s all mine..” ellie said, hovering her lips over your own.

“all yours, it’s all yours baby.”

she kissed you, teeth crashing into eachother a few times as she fucked you sober against the bathroom door.

“ellie im-fuck! im gonna cum!” you cried, too focused on her to worry about being quiet.

“yeah? cum all on my dick baby, show me how much of a cumslut you are for me…im so close too baby, hold out f’me..” ellie grunted, fucking you like she was an animal. you came hard all over her, crossing your legs behind her back as she fucked you through your orgasm.

“oh my god! ellie, oh fuck!” you cried. she orgasmed with you, her hips faltering their relentless pace.

she slowed down, slowly fucking you through every aftershock.

“shit…sorry baby. i think we got a little too loud.” ellie says gently, pulling out of your fucked out cunt.

“‘s okay.” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of the hot tub.

she wet a washcloth and cleaned your legs off, kissing your lips gently.

“i made you into a mess…” she apologizes.

after she cleans you up, you turn to the mirror and adjust yourself. you check your phone, seeing a text from mimi.

m: y/n!! ven acá, it’s time for cake!!

“looks like we finished just in time.” you say with a cheeky grin, kissing ellie on the cheek and putting your jacket back on as you walk outside the bathroom.

[genderqueerdykes]

thank you both for this, i was literally in the process of writing a post about this as i saw these.

i came out as bisexual when i was about 19 or 20 years old, in 2011 - 2012. this was such a difficult thing because everyone around me suddenly had very pointed opinions on me. suddenly i wasn't queer anymore, i was a straight person. i asked people why and they said well bisexual people are half straight, which makes you straight, which means gay people don't want to be around you. i was told nobody likes bisexuals because they're too straight to be gay and too gay to be straight

i had a literal personal dilemma because i didn't feel like that at all. when i was realizing i was bisexual i was realizing i was attracted to all genders in a queer way. i did NOT feel like my attraction to men, women or genderqueer people was straight in any way, shape or form. i've always fit in much better in both gay and lesbian circles. those have always been my home, and my community

in the early days of my transition, when "genderqueer" wasn't even remotely heard of, i had to try to transition into being a man to be seen as trans at all. i went from being forced into lesbian spaces to being forced into gay male spaces. nobody let me pick where i was existing. i was being pushed around. i liked both lesbian and gay male spaces, but i was being told when i could and couldn't occupy the spaces. and then when it came out i was bi everyone called me a traitor and said i was a straight person

my best friend at the time came with me to pride meetings and when her mom found out about that, and that i was bi, she told my friend she couldn't come to those pride meetings anymore, and that i was turning her daughter into a lesbian. her mother would not stop calling me a lesbian all throughout my life. from early childhood, she thought me and her daughter were dating because i was butch and she was femme and we were very close. her mom carried this belief into adulthood, asking her outright if we were lovers. her brother thought we were, too, and taunted us about it.

my own mom weaponized lesbianism against me. she hated how butch i was. she hated that i "looked and acted like a lesbian". she called me a butch and a bulldyke hatefully. she told me not to dress or look certain ways or else people would assume i, and her by some proxy, were lesbians. my mom was insanely butch so i don't really know why this was being leveraged against me but either way when i became a young adult and my mom was trying to force me to learn to drive (something i am terrified of doing due to having 2 dissociative disorders), she asked what kind of car i would ideally like. i said a truck. i was standing there in a purple plaid shirt and she just sighed and went "I knew you were a lesbian." she pointed out my shirt. she was weaponizing lesbophobic and butchphobic stereotypes against me, but either way, reinforcing that i was a lesbian in one capacity or another

i got so tired of my friends harassing me for saying that if i was bi that meant i was straight and i needed to stop calling myself gay because i wasn't, and that it was an "insult" to the gay community. note that nobody gave a singular flying fuck about the bisexual community at all. i was literally bullied out of identifying as bi, because my straight cishet male friends hated it, and my lesbian identifying GF was uncomfortable with it because it made me sound too straight.

the thing is, none of these people asked what being bisexual meant to me.

i actually liked the lesbian community a lot. i really love other lesbians. i have always been attracted to lesbian and butch identifying people for as long as i could remember. i loved seeing strong butch women on TV, even if there were rude jokes. i loved the idea of being a masculine person who is sometimes a queer masculine woman. i loved the idea of being with femmes, i loved queer women and people who took femininity to the next level. i also loved seeing gay men when and wherever they existed. i always felt like i fit right in, and like i was seeing a reflection of a part of myself i needed help discovering.

i have almost always, as long as i can remember, identified as a gay man, and a lesbian, at the same time. my attraction to men, women, and people of all genders is queer no matter what gender of mine is involved. it doesn't matter. i have never felt "half gay half straight" which is why people weaponizing heterosexuality against me as a bisexual forced me to strictly identify as a gay man for almost a decade. it was painful to ignore my butch lesbian side, and to stop identifying as gay, because people would criticize how attractive i found women, and other people

if people had let me exist and explain what bisexuality means to me, they could've understood that bisexual is an inherently deeply queer attraction no matter what genders are involved, but NOBODY cares to listen to the bisexual. everyone LOVES to speak for us because we're just "straight people invading the queer community."

we've had it. bisexuals are queer. even if they DO identify as "half straight" they're STILL queer. let bisexuals define bisexuality. there is no one size fits all form of bisexuality. every single bisexual defines it differently and that's the point. it's a very complex identity with many layers that often relate to gender and presentation as well as attraction.

let bisexuals define bisexuality.