butch cock booping my cervix hallelujah
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@mistresspillow
butch cock booping my cervix hallelujah
(boops your strap)
Poor thing is so tired of giving the shots, so tired of the expectations, so tired of the stereotypes, so tired of the unspoken, nonsensical “rules”.
It’s been a challenge to make yourself heard, to relax, to let go, to trust, to want—when you crave this structure so bad... tsk, tsk.
Now, why don’t you turn your good butch brain off and listen to your femme...?
Mysterious, quiet butches being the neediest, most obedient subs, muttering “Let me make you feel good...”, “Let me be good for you...”, “Make me wait...”, whilst eager to follow every direction and craving the validation of a job well done after each thing they do.
Sliding my way down my butch’s sleepy body whilst nuzzling their sides and hips til they stir, trying to locate that source of warmth building up, everywhere—then catching my eyes and watching me kiss it through their boxers, patting it for good measure with a smile on my face.
Getting up and leaving a dumbfounded and whiny butch behind, mumbling under their breath about how fast everything happened and how much more they were left needing.
Always eyeing the dresses with zippers on the back so my butch can eagerly offer to help, getting a free whiff of my scent by standing so, so close, we end up late to whatever it is we were supposed to be doing...
Sickly sweet condescending domme voice is like catnip for butches, actually.
Butches found out that the scalp was an erogenous zone years ago, and femmes understood the assignment.
Aragorn butch 🖤 Arwen femme
Being stone can simply mean that you won’t ever feel the desire to be penetrated or penetrate someone else, but it can also mean:
“It takes time for me to warm up to someone, and until then, I do not want any part of my body touched.”
“I’m ok with using certain toys to stimulate certain parts of my body, but I’d rather no one touched me in those same ways.”
“I do not want anyone (other than me/not even me) to touch me from the waist down.”
“I’m dysphoric about my breasts/chest and would rather no one touched it.”
“I’m ok with having my breasts/chest touched, but not my vagina/hole/cock/t-dick/strap.”
“I’m ok with touching another’s breasts/chest, but would rather not touch them below the waist.”
“I do not want to receive oral sex, but I do like to wear a strap and have that played with/sucked.”
“I’m ok with receiving oral sex, but I do not want to be penetrated.”
“I’m ok with performing oral sex on someone else, but am not comfortable with penetrating them.”
“I’m ok with being penetrated, but do not want to perform oral sex on someone else.”
“I’m ok with penetrating someone but only with a strap/toy and not my biological cock.”
“I’m ok with playing with/sucking someone’s strap/toy but not their biological cock/pussy.”
You can learn and build the boundaries that will better work for yourself. You can communicate those boundaries to a partner. Those boundaries are valid, they should be respected, and they do not make you any less worthy of being listened to, in a space where you feel safe to change your mind, to say no at any time knowing your partner will immediately stop.
Experiencing high levels of ‘my butch’s body pressing me into the mattress like a weighted blanket’ deficiency.
A butch knight teaching their femme princess how to duel with a proper sword, pulling on their visor to smugly wink at their lover...
A femme princess trying on some of their butch’s knight armor pieces... maybe the shoulders or the chest plate—a tad too big, obviously, which causes a good, heartfelt laugh to escape past the butch’s lips—but definitely, definitely the helmet... bumping helmets when going for a kiss, lifting just a fraction of both to properly do it, mid giggling...
A femme princess quickly exceeding, winning a duel and showing off, straddling the butch’s lap after disarming them of their own blade, and pointing it to the butch's throat.
The familiar butch of a witch femme...
A familiar butch with the power to go back and forth between their animal and human form.
A sweet lab retriever, a husky, or even an orange cat, at times energetically, at times lazily moving around their companion, letting themself be pet and work as a channeler of energy whilst assisting their magic practitioner with the casting of spells and the protection of the cottage they both now live in, warding it against strangers and ill intentioned people.
During the day, running around the garden in their four-legged body, coming to their femme’s bed every night on their two-legged one, breeding and cludding with their powerful companion...
But always, always ready to bite the limbs off of anyone who dares to disrespect their sorceress.
Not being able to resist groping my butch as they sleep peacefully next to me... putting a knee in between their thighs whilst my nails trace the freckles, moles, and marks left on their back only a few hours prior... draping myself over their body to better kiss down the curve of their neck and shoulder... engulfed by such comforting scent—a mix of their natural smell, favorite body wash, and warmth radiating from the sheets pooling around us—whilst whispering sweet nothings in their ear til they wake up already humping into my hand... humming in agreement with each whine and groan, cooing at each shift of expression, and guiding them into continuing to move their hips just like that, with praise and the promise of more—doing so, so good for me.
Their butch cock inside my pussy and their thick fingers inside my mouth as I fall asleep.
Sometimes, all a femme needs it to be their butch’s baby mamma.
Wet contest fantasy where I’m cleaning my butch’s car on a Sunday morning, only to get a little messy and soaked after the hose slips from my grasp. In blue jeans, white top—now clinging to my skin—and no bra, resulting in hard, and pretty much completely visible nipples, covered in cold water...
Give them a nice show... enough of my cheeks visible under shorts that barely hide anything once I’m stretching in order to clean the windshields... stomach pouch and waist glistening under the sun once the top rolls up, now under my tits... maybe even bush and lips brushing against the seams of the shorts, in which I grind down for more, moaning involuntary... or is it?
Taking my time and making sure the car is spotless so they can eat me out over the hood once any resemblance of composure is lost.