#they are absolutely lesbians

[seducedwithlingerie]

Lingerie love

[zaahvi]

GLORY TO THE RISEN GODS

[pichipachini]

The amount of money I’d pay to be a fly on the wall.

aph/lucinda is sooo unrequited, one sided love core I’m srry 😼

[shouyuus]

18+, pitfighter!vi brainrot, bc its girl-dinner time tw: sorta smut, sorta obsessive!vi, codependent relationship, not quite yandere but the vibes r kinda there, but still fluffy bc im me duh

pitfighter!vi who fucks you like she's trying to leave a part of herself inside you, who holds you so hard that the next morning, you wake up to the blue-tinted ghosts of her fingers along your hips and thighs, the dull blossoming bruises littering your neck and shoulders, rings in the shape of her teeth like strange, demented flowers (or perhaps like footprints) the way they trail along your skin, inked there for all to see.

pitfighter!vi who fights like she's trying to break everyone else in the same way she wishes she were broken herself, all fevered, focused rage, and none of the restraint. no patience, only the blunted sting of a punch well-aimed, an elbow to the ribs, a knee to the groin, spit trailing out the edge of her mouth, a grin crooked and bloody hinged between her lips bc she knows when she looks up and scans the crowd, she'll inevitably find you there, watching her with your wide, alluring eyes.

pitfighter!vi who thinks she knows the depths and widths of hunger, has seen and felt it all, growing up in the lanes, and there are so many different kinds, aren't there? the kind that aches dull and deep in the stomach, the kind that claws and roars open in her chest, the kind that tingles like spider-poison all along the length of her spine. still, she's never quite felt a hunger like this -- the kind that threatens to consume her from the inside out the first time she sees you, and at first, it might've been a wholly vindictive thing -- perhaps its because there'd been something in the shadow of your smile that reminds her of -- well, it doesn't matter.

but the first time she kisses you (in the crush of bodies on a crowded dance floor, the music too loud, the bottom of her boots tacky with spilled drinks and blood and whatever else), you'd run your thumb along the line of her jaw so gently, traced the lines of her face with a touch so soft it ran a fissure through her car-alarm heart, and when she'd pulled away, you'd smiled as if she'd given you something other than just the jagged, broken bits of herself.

later, you'd told her that you still appreciated it then. bc it looked like that was all she could afford to give; and she gave it to you anyway.

pitfighter!vi who does not think she will ever get enough of you, and still, the more she gets, the more you give, the deeper the hunger grows. it yawns open inside her, huge and dark and cavernous, carving into her the more that it's fed, and by the gods do you feed it -- the way your head tilts back to allow her access to the smooth expanses of your throat, the darling, moon-lit landscape of your bare chest and shoulders, the way you're so pliant beneath her, your trust pouring from you like drink. and she drinks. and drinks. and drinks.

drinks till she's head-dizzy and heart-full. drinks till her vision blurs but for the sight of you, the shape of you so familiar to her waking moments it does not shock her in the least the first time she wakes up in the morning to the after-images of you in her dreams.

pitfighter!vi who, for the first time in her life thought she had lost all direction, but now -- she feels like at least there's still someone worth protecting, worth fighting for. and she knows, she knows it's not entirely healthy, how much and how hard she falls for you, knows that perhaps it is not the best thing for a woman like her to make someone like you the still-point of her turning universe, you, who manages to shine despite the grime that collects in the city around you. you, who is softness made into an act of defiance, who, one night, curled against her side, told her that there's a certain vindication to smiling in the face of a world who would love nothing more than to rip the joy, bleeding and raw from your throat.

"it's not always easy... actually," you laugh, the sound sweet as spring water as it trickles over her skin, "it's really fucking hard but... why not do it anyway?"

"what, be happy?" her own voice is low and cracked from the fight earlier that night. but you'd kissed a line down her throat and told her that you loved it when she moaned.

"yeah. if the whole world wants us sad and angry... what bigger fuck you is there than to be... happy?"

pitfighter!vi who lets you draw the dark lines down her cheeks, but they're neater than she'd done them herself, who kisses your fingertips when they're stained with the black of her hair-dye, who laughs fully for the first time in... she doesn't even remember how long, when you lean forward and trace a tiny mustache with the leftover ink on your fingers right over her mouth. who sinks into the sound of your laughter like a warm bath, letting it soak into her sore muscles, unspool the tension coiled in her shoulders, the rictus threatening to settle in the set of her knuckles.

she lets you sooth over the harms and hurts that had followed behind her, nipping at her heels like disobedient dogs her whole life, lets you kiss her brows and pull her behind you as you point at the new graffiti art that wasn't there the week before.

pitfighter!vi who has always had a fierce love for zaun because it's her home, but has never stopped to consider just how beautiful of a place it is until she meets you -- and it is beautiful, an angry, pulsing, rebellious beauty, raw and dripping with shimmer-soaked ichor. a beauty carved of disparate limbs and desperate parts, one that is hard-earned and well-fought, the same beauty found in the darkest hours of night, right before the morning dawns, the same beauty she finds reflected back at her when she sees her blurred reflection in a pool of spilt blood on the fighting pit's arena floor.

zaun hums to the tune of debauchery, and for the first time, she's with someone who allows her to be greedy, allows her the breadth and width of wanting so freely. and she thinks it might be spiraling into a full-blown obsession, the way she can't go three seconds without thinking about you, wondering where you are, what you're doing, what you're up to. and you always tell her, tell her about the flowers you saw growing from a crack in the sidewalk, the shaft of sunlight hitting a shard of broken glass in just the right way, how sometimes if you close your eyes and listen, the ticking and clicking noises that run like a baseline thrum through the entire city almost sounds like birdsong.

pitfighter!vi who can't say she's ever fallen properly in love (she thinks that perhaps, once, she got real close), but wonders if this is what it feels like, to feel the void of your physical absence like the itch of a phantom limb, so she does everything she can to keep you close, glares at people if their eyes linger too long on you as the pair of you walk down the street, doubles down on her training regime so that she can fend of anyone who even breathes wrong in your direction.

who can't help pouting every time you pull away to do anything -- to grab another bag of snacks, to ask the bartender for another drink, to listen to something loris is saying -- she has to tamp down the urge to pull you back, to meld you to her side and never let go.

pitfighter!vi who starts to get more strategic with her fights, who saves up money now bc she wants to take you out to dinner, or just buy you nice things once in a while. who spends way too many hexes and cogs on a bouquet of fresh flowers, ones that aren't tainted or bred with the faint, sickly shine of shimmer, and she thinks its all worth it to watch the smile break across your face like dawn over a brand new day -- brilliant, blinding.

she blinks, watching with a fond smile as you fuss over the flowers in your tiny apartment, the space small but cozy, everything neat and in its place. you put the flowers into a tall, slightly chipped glass mug and set them by the window, admiring them from this angle, then that.

"y'like them, angel?"

you nod, grinning as you throw your arms around her, "i love them, vi! i love them so much!"

"good. i'm glad you like 'em. just..." her voice trails off; you cock your head.

"just, what?"

she shrugs, "ah -- just, i always thought it was sad getting flowers cause... they'll wilt someday, right?"

but when she looks back at you, still caught up in her arms, you're still smiling. and there's a fox-fire glint in your eyes that makes something in her stomach twist hot.

"well, there's one kind of flower that won't wilt that i wouldn't mind having here all the time..."

vi blinks, a dry heat creeping up the back of her throat, her heart a wild, fluttering thing caught beneath her cage of ribs.

"yeah?" her voice is hoarse as she swallows around the hope pooling on her tongue like blood. "and what kinda flower is that?"

you lean in, your breath a whisper along her parted lips.

"violets."

pitfighter!vi who moves in three days later, with nothing but some old clothes and her punching bag, which you'd already made room for (somehow) hung up from one of the high rafters in the kitchen, next to the tiny dining table tucked into the corner. who spends the next three days fucking you on every available surface (and some unavailable ones, like against the fridge for instance), telling you that it's only right to christen things now that you're officially living together.

who doesn't bother to wonder if things are moving too fast, and dives in head first because that's the only ways she's ever known to how to do things. who thinks, blithely to herself one night, the warm shape of you curled next to her, sleeping so soundly it almost breaks her heart, that you're probably the first good thing she's ever gotten stuck on -- and she's gotten stuck on a lot of things (fighting, boxing, the guilt, the shame, the anger, the world-ending sorrow of losing it all). its one of the things vander had always warned her about.

"you get into things too hard, kiddo -- gotta learn to pace yourself."

but she doesn't care, because hard's what she was raised on, and it's how she plans on loving you, god, if it's the last thing she does, right or wrong, so be it.

pitfighter!vi who still has her bad nights, still drinks a bit too much sometimes, but at least you're always there to keep her from going too far. and you're the only one who can pull her back, the only one she'll listen to when you tug the drink away from her hands and slide it down the bar towards loris, who'll eye it for a second before downing it and settling up the tab, nodding towards you even as you sling an arm around vi's middle to lead her out of the bar.

who still wakes up screaming some nights, her eyes wide and unseeing, scrabbling at you, tugging you into her if only to bury her face in your shoulder, her whole body wracked with dry-heaving sobs.

"my sister used to think there were monsters under the bed, and make me check down there every night before going to bed," she murmurs, her face inches from yours, her words soft and ever so slightly slurred.

you brush your fingers against her cheek, a comforting, repetative motion -- back and forth, back and forth, till her lashes flutter shut.

"guess she was right... but the monsters never wanna stay under the bed, do they? it's like they always... wanna come out and play..."

you let out a breathy laugh, "or maybe," you offer, your voice low and soothing, "they're just as scared as you are. and they're just looking for someone to scare their own monsters away."

pitfighter!vi who is still not good at slow, but sometimes, when she kisses you, she wishes that had the power to hit pause on time, just so she could stretch out the moment and kiss you forever. she thinks that she'll never be good at patience, but sometimes, when you tell her just gimme a sec! when she's waiting for you to get ready before going out to dinner at jericho's or just for a round of drinks at the bar round the corner, her leaning against the doorway watching as you put the finishing touches of your makeup on yourself in the kitchen mirror -- she thinks she'd give you every last second of the rest of her life if you ever asked her to.

pitfighter!vi who, recently, has really, really started hoping that someday soon, you'll actually ask her to.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent - join the taglist

[napping-sapphic]

i’m a horrible influence btw because i would drag you into bed and do absolutely everything in my power to keep you there for as long as possible

[fishareglorious]

found out vanripper released a new game and love how this guy never changes (food recipes being a component of the game and lore)

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Fellow dommes, I would like to share a new thing I recently discovered that I think you should try out. We all know how nice the possessiveness of saying "you're mine" to your sub can be. Making them say "I'm yours", or cooing/growling "you're mine" into their ear while they're so deep into subspace all they can do is smile and moan. I've even seen a post making the rounds of growling "I'm yours" into your subs ears as you use them mercilessly. Remind them that only they get receive this treatment.

I see these acts of consensual possession and raise you the notion of ordering your sub to say "you're mine" to you as you make them cum. Holding their eye contact right before you push them over the edge and growl "what am I, kitten? Say it. Say I'm yours."

"You're mine?" they'll of course be initially confused, but press the idea, and as you do, push them over the edge.

"Again."

"You're mine" This time a little more confidence behind the statement.

"That's right... Again."

"You're mine" Finally getting the idea, and realizing it feels amazing.

"Again!"

"You're mine... you're mine... you're mine..."

By this point you can just watch and enjoy as they begin to chant it with the biggest smile on their face, all while orgasming in a way that they haven't before. A different kind of intensity. Continue to make them cum as they passively repeat "you're mine" over and over and over, letting the pleasure and chanting hypnotize them into a state of pure bliss. I promise you, it will give you a form of confidence in your domming entirely separate from claiming them and it feels utterly intoxicating 💕

[yashley]

campaign 3 episode 120: Imogen Temult, Exaltant Hope of the Red Storm (hot girl shit)

[aroacegundamalex]

I mostly think this poll is hilarious (and some people are taking it way, way too seriously) but it’s starting to get really weird how often people on the opposite side are dismissing Gundam — a giant of science fiction that remade a genre in its image — and quite literally lying about Suletta and Miorine. I’ve seen people claim they were canonically married to men, people claim the show’s ending was rewritten by interns, claim they never hugged, and other claims regarding them not being canon.

While Bandai and Kadokawa did censor one interview, and Bandai released an “open to interpretation” statement, these no longer hold true. Official material has henceforth referred to them as married. One instance of censorship and a statement they’ve clearly walked back on does not erase the fact that the show itself heavily emphasizes their wedding rings, refers to Miorine as Eri’s sister-in-law, and makes it abundantly clear that they are married.

“I knew I was going to make an epilogue, but it was a while before I decided upon the exact number of years that should pass in-between. The ending itself follows “The Tempest,” and depicts Suletta and Miorine getting married and becoming partners.”

- Hiroshi Kobayashi

They are completely and unambiguously canon, and arguably were never decanonized to begin with given the literal text of the show.

An addendum to this: I’ve also seen a strange dismissal of the history that G-Witch pulls from.

The original Gundam inspired Revolutionary Girl Utena, with Lalah Sune in particular (the creator of an iconic Gundam archetype) serving as the inspiration for Anthy Himemiya. Gundam has had a queer fanbase for decades, and has had gay characters (with Yoshiyuki Tomino himself confirming this) since the 1990s.

G-Witch draws from Gundam’s extensive, genre-shaking history, classics like Utena and Rose of Versailles, and Shakespeare’s The Tempest. It brings Gundam and Utena’s connection full circle, and is in conversation with every Gundam series that came before it.

It’s unfair to dismiss it as just some random show, or — as I’ve seen some do — credit its open queerness to the influence of completely unrelated American media, as if Japan is utterly devoid of gay people.

[mgktz]

"We conduct a nationwide manhunt for you, and you're boning the suspect!?"

To everyone that clocked the D.E.B.S. references in my last few posts *kisses you on the mouth*

I still can't draw guns but this AU has been on my mind for so long i had to get it out or risk going insane

*zoom for detail!

[rosalie-starfall]

Sandi Toksvig's Dial A Dyke CO

QI - Upbringing

Bonus:

[lomlompurim]

Found an old lesbingqiu doodle in my gallery

[its-always-sunny-in-city17]

still thinking about the idea that jadzia wanted to get with kira at the start of ds9 but kira just. was not all there yet.

[shouyuus]

OMG just had this idea where during the fight with Vander maybe Vi gets bit by him and it turns her into this half-werewolf half-human type thing (i’d say she still looks pretty much human, in comparison to Vander)

anyway, she has side affects all month long such as better hearing, vision, increased sense of smell, etc. but during the full moon is when she goes crazy with this extreme need to breed you/fuck you

18+, mdni, this is debauchery

the wound is not a big one, not compared to the ones that she's suffered in the past. but the one it carves in her heart takes much longer to heal -- warwick, they'd called him. she'd always know him as her dad.

and it seems that her fists and her steely attitude aren't the only things he'll leave her with.

at first, she thinks it's just the sickness -- the fevered dreams that came to her right after -- the heat that had bitten into her skin and refused to leave. she thought she'd imagined the high itch that had pressed against her very bones, the way she could smell... everything. she could hear everything.

you fuss over her, because of course you do. and she loves you, and gods, the only thing that seems to sooth her burning skin is the cool of your hands as you press them to the sides of her face.

"ah... the fever's not going down -- but the medicine should be kicking in by now --" you bite your lips and vi groans, licking her own. her mouth is so dry.

"c'mere..." she tugs you down to kiss you, and your surprised squeak is muffled against her cracked mouth. it takes barely a second for you to soften into her, and the moment your mouth slips open for her, the thrumming, pulsing want that had been coiling deep in her belly becomes a dark, urgent need.

"v-vi --!" you startle as she yanks you into the bed with her, your palms so lovely and cool, pressed to the hot skin of her chest.

"don't need medicine," she murmurs, trailing her lips along the column of your throat, "just need you."

and she knows before she fully says all the words that its true. because even saying them out loud sates a sweet, growling part of her that feels like urges and bared lips and teeth.

you let out a hitched whine as vi paws at your clothes, nearly tearing them from you, the pitched humming in her ears urging her forward as she swallows around the maddening need to feel your bare skin against hers -- beneath hers. she groans at the friction, finally, when it comes.

"f-fuck --" vi swears, sinking her teeth into the bare parenthetical of your shoulder. her lips pull away wet, and she pants, fingers digging into the plush of your hips. she groans, the sound deep and rumbling in her chest -- it's a sound that she's not certain she's ever made before, but the change it wrights over your body is instantaneous. you shudder, lashes fluttering as you gasp, arching into her, your spine bending so beautifully beneath her that her vision nearly goes white.

"fuck," she repeats, hissing the word with her nose pressed into the hollow of your throat. the world smears into pops of color, the pale of the moon pouring thick and cool through your window, the dark of your lashes, the red rings of her teeth against on your neck. fuck, fuck, fuck --

"v-violet -- violet -- oh!"

she barely registers the world closing in as she finds her fingers slotted between your thighs; her lungs fill with the scent of you, the thick, sweet musk that radiates from you. her mouth waters at the shine of slick on her fingers as she pulls them back.

"oh... pretty girl," she coos, pressing them back between your legs to sink them into your throbbing cunt, curling them up, thumbing at your clit till you're keening, reaching down to scrabble at her wrist with a weak hand. "you're so.... wet for me..." she mutters, almost to herself, the dull rushing gathering behind her ears as she watches, mesmerized, at the sight of her own fingers disappearing into you over and over and over.

"violet -- i --"

she hums, dropping her forehead onto your chest just to steady herself over you as she pushes a third finger into you, nearly losing herself in the way you stretch open for you, the way you slicken impossibly over her, clenching down till her fingers feel almost numb, the scent of you so strong it fills her head like smoke.

"fuck -- just wanna fuck you -- fuck you till you're full of me --" she says, and she doesn't quite know where the words are coming from, only knows that it gives her inexplicable pleasure -- the thought of filling you up with her, in some shape, way, or form. her fingers, her tongue -- her spit, her cum --

she hisses as she feels you convulse over her, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, and she notes, faintly, she can smell the salt crystalizing on your cheeks. it takes her another few moments for her to realize that it means you're crying.

"oh -- oh princess --" she slows her pace, but you shake your head, panting, your chest heaving, tear-tracks streaking down your cheeks into our hair as you reach up to cup her face with a shaking hand.

"i-if you need to u-use me -- you can --" you swallow around a hiccup as she curls her fingers, bullying two of them against your g-spot, if only to watch your lashes flutter, "y-you can."

"yeah, sweet girl?" vi asks, her own breathing shaky as she digs her nose into your jugular, slotting her hips between yours, fumbling with the waistband of her boxers, tossing them aside to slot her own wet cunt against yours with a thick groan.

"gonna let me use you till i'm satisfied?" she asks, rutting down over you, a strange, wolfish hunger yawning open inside her, something like a wound or a gaping cavern, dark and echoing.

your answering keen makes her whole head spin, and then she's fucking you, rocking her hips over yours, lifting one of your legs till it's slung haphazardly over her shoulder, your slick clit catching hers as she imagines fucking her own cum into you with her fingers.

just the thought alone is enough to drive her over the edge, her cumming hard and messy against you, groaning and sinking her teeth into your already bruised shoulder, her tongue laving over the divots after, though she can't quite get over how much she likes the smell of her smeared across your skin.

she forces her hand between your bodies and sinks three fingers into you without preamble, hissing at how easily you take her in now, your pussy warm and welcoming, so slick with your cum and hers that it's the easiest thing in the word to slip in a fourth finger. your breath hitches at the extra stretch, but it's nothing to head-rush vi feels she methodically works her own cum into you.

and the most logical part of her knows, she knows that it's not quite possible for her to breed you, not in the most traditional sense of the word, but something about it still makes her feel just a bit feral. something about the motion of it, of knowing that there's something of hers inside you, that the room smells like sex -- yours and hers, spit and skin and ecstasy, that sates the rumbling, roiling heat sizzling inside her.

it quiets the thumping urge, slakes the rambling thirst.

she fucks you slow then, rolling her hips in tandem with her fingers, groaning soft as she watches you with soft eyes. you reach down to lace your fingers with her free hand and she leans down to kiss you. it's open-mouthed and wanting, but it's sweet nonetheless.

outside, the clouds hang fat and low beneath a harvest-moon sky.

"vi...?" you ask, looking up at her from moon-soaked lashes.

"hm?"

you lick your lips, "d-did that make you feel better?"

she nods, chuckling, "sure did, pretty girl."

you let out a tiny laugh as well, one that twists into a moan as vi pulls her fingers from you and presses them to your mouth. you let your jaw slacken around them, lick around the tangy essence of you and watch as vi's eyes blow midnight-dark. the air slicks taffy-sweet and butter-thick.

"gonna let me do it again?" she asks, puffing out a breath as she ruts her cunt against yours. you whimper, nodding, your head jolting back into the pillow at the friction, your oversensitive clit already throbbing in protest, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"y-yeah -- as... as many times..." you swallow around a half-drawn breath, "as you need."

vi grins, tracing a delicate finger down your cheek till she fits her hand around the circumference of your throat and squeezes, just the tiniest bit. her eyes follow the butterfly-wing flicker of your pulse as it jumps beneath her palm.

the beast caught inside her cage of ribs growls its approval.

she rocks down over you once more, the movement harsher, and deeper. you only close your eyes and moan.

"that's a good girl," she murmurs, dropping a kiss to our cheek, letting her lips trail along your skin to skim the lobe of your ear and she whispers --

"gonna let me breed you properly, hm? be good for me and take all my cum, yeah, pretty girl?"

you whine. the sound shoots straight to her clit as she fucks down over you again, reaching down to tease at your puffy pussy lips.

and in a voice that's both reverent and broken, you seal her fate in one fell swoop --

"y-yes vi -- please."

[snakehatepage]

uhhhhh sevika but she's sooooo uhhhhh she likes holding girls up with her mech arm and yk uhhh fucking them with her real arm uhhh post send tweet uhhhhh

cw: smut?? idk. also it's really bad, I just need to clean my drafts 😣 be nice or I'll kms

Metal fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, moan after moan being torn from your throat, Sevikas flesh fingers curling and uncurling from deep in your cunt, soaking the skin of her hand.

Sevika's metal fingers gripped your plush thigh, sending a delicious chill down your spine, the thought of her strong enough to pin you against the wall was making you wetter by the second.

Her fingers worked you over, sliding in and out of your dripping cunt with a hunger that matched your own. The room was filled with the sounds of your moans mixing with the wet squelches of her fingers diving deep inside you.

Her body pressed against yours as she held you against the wall, the metal arm providing an unyielding grip that made you feel completely at her mercy. The way she moved inside you, the pressure, the speed—it was driving you insane.

You felt every damn thing as she fucked her fingers in and out if you.

As Sevika's movements became more urgent, more focused, you knew you were about to lose it. Your whole body tensed, your breath hitched, and then it hit you like a wave, moaning her name as you came on her fingers.

chat this is so bad pls be nice 😣 I need her so bad, gotta 9 on her 11 so she never forgets or smth. send me requests!!!!! also, I never know how to end these.