I've seen a lot of posts lately about loser-big-brother-butch summer. but, I pose you this: losergirl femme summer. days spent bedrotting and on butch-femme twitter. always in a perpetual state of longing, hearing about their friends' nights spent out in the club and meeting this person or that person, wanting so badly to have someone to lay with at night but not bothering to actually go out for it. spends long, humid days hunched over the computer or just sitting on their porch and letting the summer heat soak through their skin. they try out different makeup styles and hairdos in the foggy mirror of their childhood bathroom, and huff in exhaustion when they just can't get it right. a little butterfly clip will suffice, they suppose. they complain about their lack of prospects to the kids they babysit, and practically feel their mouth gushing with saliva when they see the one butch in their local area mowing everyone's lawn. they give an air of awkward-but-mysterious big sister, always lurking around every corner of the house, sipping on their soda and keeping to themself. their outings include heading to the mall to try to scramble together an aesthetic they like and going to the book store to find literature that makes them feel more at home. and they want. and want and want want.
thinking of being a butch's breeding toy for them to use for the first time. they've been so careful to always pull out with their partners, never wanting to take a risk, but as their friend who's always been there, i can see how wound up they've been feeling from having to constantly keep themself restrained. and so, i kiss their cheek, whisper sweet nothings in their ear, and tell them how i can do them a friendly favour, and let them come in me. just to relieve the stress, of course. just to be a good friend who provides for the person who's always helping me out of my messes.
and so, they take me in missionary, the position that'll have their cock plunging at the deepest angle within me. without a condom, they feel every inch of my wet, tight hole wrapping around them, and it has them shuddering, leaning their forehead onto my shoulder with the sweetest little noises. with my legs wrapped around their waist, i keep them locked against me, using my heels against their back to urge them to go faster, deeper.
and when they do, my head lolls back, mouth hanging open as their cock stretches me loose and open for their come, ramming into me as our sweaty skin slaps together. i can feel how excited they are, their cock twitching in me whenever i tighten around them, their balls so heavy with cream as it smacks against my dripping pussy. and i'm sure it doesn't help how i keep trying to egg them on, lightly scraping my nails through their scalp, pushing my other hand against their lower back to encourage them to continue hitting that sweet, spongey little spot tucked deep into me. or the way i lick the shell of their ear, and whine about how i wanna feel their seed plugging me full, their load making my pussy so warm and comfy.
wanna hear them hiss for me to shut up because my words are getting them too close, but that only urges me to keep prodding and urging, dropping sweet little kisses all over their handsome face as i beg them to put a baby in me, and finally release all that they've been holding back, my fingers brushing against the marks dug in by my nails.
wanna feel how their body shudders, face tightening up in pleasure, as they finally feel what it's like to come inside a pretty pussy, their hips messily bucking as their milky come bursts from their dick, coating my walls with sticky droplets of it. they'd be so cute as they rut mindlessly into me, whimpering and groaning as their come pumps out and sloshes around their dick as my pussy pulsates to suck it all in. so, so sensitive to the feeling of my warmth clamping around them, the relief flooding their body as they finally unload. our chests rubbing together as we kiss and moan against each other's lips, my cunt completely ruined with the mess they've made of it, wet little squelches ringing through the room whenever they move.
god, and i won't let them pull out, quietly pleading for them to stay inside until they shush me with a kiss, promising to not leave. and so, we'll stay like that, their softening dick hugged so tight by my pussy as their load drips onto the sheets, both of us sated beyond words.
my femme ins for this summer: hairy legs, those panties with the cut-out heart, jingling wherever i go, water bottle stacked with charms and keychains, mismatched bikinis, cracked nail polish worn out from days of cold showers and swimming, messy and frazzled hair, skin that's salty with sweat, belly chains, random finds of jewelry that mean something, lots of digicam photos
contains: vampire lesbian sex (straight ppl NO this is not for you), narrator is referred to as having a "cock," reader is referred to as having a "pussy," "cunt," "clit" and "breasts," reader is called "silly girl," cunnilingus, corruption kink (+ inexperience kink?? i guess), d/s dynamics, v slowburn, implied blood-sucking desires + tendencies (so ofc warning for blood mention)
note: this story is inspired by this ask and this ask, so thank you so much to the anons who sent this!! this story is very overdue, but yes, i've finally finished hehe. also, yes, this is meant to be a vampire scenario, but the vampire tendencies in question are very vaguely alluded to (one, because i was unsure how to go about a vampire!narrator as i've never written one before, and two, i thought it might be interesting to make a part 2 where those tendencies are more explicitly revealed to the reader and incorporated into the characters' sex lives)
On a cold, fall night, you find yourself lost. You didn’t mean for it to happen – you were retrieving a hot drink from the market during such a bitter evening, eager to return home and curl into the softest cushions while drinking it. Somehow, however, on the way back home, you got lost in the forest and when you emerged from the thick, looming trees, you were met not with your village, but wide, rolling hills of green, blanketing the ground for miles.
Needless to say, you are now panicking, head swivelling in all directions, desperately trying to grip onto any sense of hope that with the sky dark, the leaves of the tree a shadowed emerald, the hoots of owls cooing from the depth of the trees, you could find your way home. You fumble with the flimsy cloak you’re wearing, goosebumps skimming along the surface of your skin, a stark reminder of the fact that you will need shelter soon.
You realize that walking through the forest is most likely not a good decision, for who knew what creatures lurked beyond the towering trees, so you make your way along the hills, hoping to complete some estimate of the same distance you made to arrive at this point, so perhaps you can find the entrance of the forest you entered through after visiting the market. A weak plan, but you have no idea what else to do.
After an hour, you find not a glimmer of hope to be found amongst the trees. Surprisingly, instead, you spot an orange flicker on a raised hill beyond the expanse of greenery you’ve been trudging upon. The single beam of light vaguely shows the outline of a dark manor, and despite your nerves, you force your way there. Hopefully, the owner is someone who is kind enough to afford you a warm meal and bed for the night.
At least, this is the story you tell me when we’re seated across from one another in my manor, warm candlelight casting a golden glow to your features as you explain your situation and plead for a spare room. It is endearing, to see you practically begging. Your hands wrap around the cup of tea I brought to you, your cloak still wrapped tightly around you. With the fire running, I can already see the beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.
You are the image of loveliness. So shy, so sweet, so embarrassed to be asking for a favour.
“Of course you can have a room,” I say with a smile, and you beam in response, gratefully setting the cup down and clasping your hands together.
“Thank you so much.”
I wave a hand with a smile, eyes flickering over your pretty eyes, and your lips, shiny from when your tongue has darted out to lick them. Nerves, I suppose – you are in a stranger’s home, after all. “Why were you all by yourself on such a dark evening?”
You explain your small journey to the market, bashfully eyeing the ground. “It’s embarrassing, having gotten lost so easily.”
“In your defense, it is very difficult to navigate when the sun sets as early as it does now.”
Your lips curl up. “Have you ever gotten lost in these parts?”
I shrug, spreading my arms along the arms of my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “No. But, I have lived in this home for many years. It is only natural that I would know these parts well.”
“How long have you resided here?”
I pause, tilting my head at you. “Perhaps ten years. Though, in the last two or three years, I’ve come to accept that I will spend many decades here, most likely.”
You took a small sip of your tea, eyes watching me through your lashes. Such endearing eyes they are, so attentive in their watching of me. “Do you live here alone?”
I nod. “Yes, I acquired the property from a relative who left it to me in their will.”
“You alone, in this large home, with nothing but hills upon hills for miles…” you drifted off, eyes scanning the ceiling above us and the detailed artwork that coats it. “It sounds rather lonely.”
I smirk at your kind sympathy, and lift my leg off from the other, spreading them out and bracing my elbows on them, leaning forward. “You’re very kind, miss, but I quite like my arrangement.”
I can hear the gulping noise from your throat when you swallow. Once again, your lips part to swipe your pretty, pink tongue along them, getting them slick and wet with spit. You release a heavy, trembling breath at my sudden proximity and close gaze. “Um, why is that?”
“It affords me the privacy I need to… entertain any guests,” I say lowly, nearly chuckling when your eyes widen, blinking fast at my insinuation. You press your lips together, moving them slowly, and I can sense the hesitation you feel, eyes flickering between myself and your lap.
And yes, your lap. From here, I can see your legs moving closer together, squeezing, thighs probably pressed against what lies between them. Your pretty fingers fist into the fabric of your clothes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you raise your eyes to meet mine. “What room would you propose I take?”
I cock my head to the door behind you, leaning back into my seat. So, it seems that you perhaps are interested, but do not desire to go further. I would not push it. “The South Quarters will be the warmest.”
“What quarters are your room in?” you ask quietly, eyes narrowed on your hands.
“North,” I mutter, taking a sip of my tea, raising an eyebrow from the question.
You hook your bottom lip in your teeth again. I can feel myself throb at the action, your lips so pretty and practically aching to be sucked on until they’re swollen. I can just picture biting into your plush bottom lip, toying with it lightly, sinking into them a bit deeper, sucking and running my tongue along to soothe it. Would you make any noises? Would you gasp, moan? Whimper softly? Or squeak in surprise?
My internal questions cease when you finally speak. “May I take a room in the North quarters?”
I can practically smell the arousal from you, dripping from your pussy and pooling where your underclothes are. It makes me mull on what kind of thoughts must be running through your mind, and how long they’ve been occupying you if you’re this wet already. It’s a heady, strong scent that all of a sudden kills the ability to focus on anything other than how much you deserve to be taken care of. My nostrils flare at the scent, and all of a sudden, I can just picture being nose deep in your cunt, breathing you in, letting your scent get sucked in, burying my tongue in you and watching you fight the urge to look down at me.
Your legs are still locked together, knees rubbing, and once again, you wet those pretty lips, maintaining eye contact with me as you do. It’s difficult to determine whether the action is unintentional, or if you’re truly becoming aware of the way my fingers dig into the arms of the chair, or the way I spread my legs just a little bit further, desperate to have you sit on my lap.
Before any of that can happen, however, I steadily say, keeping my tone levelled and kind, “There is no need to owe me anything for letting you stay the night. You can truly have whichever room you desire, and we can retire separately.”
A tiny whimper is your response, the noise coming from somewhere deep and tight in your throat, the noise gentle and soft enough that you probably believe that the cough you give afterwards is enough to hide it. Unfortunately for you, though, you are completely unaware of how clear the noise was to my ears. How I cannot even dream of letting such a lovely noise escape me. So delicate, so unintentional, so shy, yet so telling of everything you want tonight. After your adorable little coughing fit comes to an end, you quietly say, eyes focused on the ruffled collar of my shirt. “I know. I did not ask for a room in the North quarters due to a sense of obligation or owing you.”
You lower your gaze bashfully, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to directly meet it amongst all kinds of angles. When you’re on your knees for me, those pink, pretty lips wrapped around my fingers, or a part even lower. When my face is tucked in between your thighs, and you’re staring down at me. When my forehead is pressed against yours, eyes frozen on yours as I inch in–
I clear my throat, rising to my feet and sauntering to where you sit. Your eyes flicker over me, and I can hear how your heart begins to pump faster. Once I’m just a pace in front of you, looking down at your nervous, timid expression, I quietly ask, “Then, why are you asking for one?”
Your mouth twists and curls, nervousness clearly holding you back from answering. My fingers twitch, pausing momentarily, before I place a gentle palm on your cheek. You lean into it naturally, as though your bodily instincts possessed no other possible reaction, and I stroke my thumb against the texture of your skin, back and forth, lulling you into comfort. “Tell me.”
You clear your throat, and I can feel your skin heat beneath my fingers. “I want to know… how you entertain your guests.”
I suck in a deep breath, pleasure surging through me at your answer. My eyes wander to your lips, which part with a quiet wet noise, eager to take in whatever I have to offer. Just the mere motion is enough to send my cock stirring. I stroke my thumb across the corner of your mouth, nearly shuddering at the smooth softness of your lips, the tip getting coated in the inner wetness of your mouth, which widens further. I dip my thumb in deeper, going slow and holding back on my eagerness. When the rough pad meets your tongue, I swallow hard, nearly groaning when your mouth puckers and tightens over my finger, beginning to gently suck, eyes fluttering shut. When I push more, a high whine comes from you, your hand moving to gently grip my wrist as I continue to fuck into your mouth.
Maybe without even realizing, you start to move your hips forward and back, humping the cushion you sit upon, trying to get any friction possible on your pussy. The sight does nothing to quell my arousal, which is becoming hard to ignore the more you make those depraved, desperate noises.
I slip my thumb from your mouth, and you barely get to cry out in protest before my mouth is on yours, fingers gripping your cheeks and coaxing you to open up. You do with a loud, muffled moan, which morphs into a surprised gasp when my tongue slips in. Your clear inexperience leaves you clumsily reacting to the contact, your own tongue moving and twitching in abrupt directions. I slow down the pace of the kiss, getting to my knees in front of you and curling my hand against the fluttering hairs of your neck, my tongue slowly massaging yours. Within a few moments, I can hear your heartbeat steadying, and you begin to grow confident with the motions of the kiss, your own movements becoming bolder as you prod your tongue further against mine, curling and licking. My other arm curves around your waist, pushing you closer to me. Your legs spread to let me rest in the gap between them, and I grip your dress tightly when I feel the mounds of your breasts against me.
I part from you, my lips diving to your neck, latching onto your pulse point and sucking hard. Your hands fly to my back, nails digging in harder as I skim my teeth along the sensitive patch of skin. I can begin to feel it, an entirely different, but oh-so familiar urge warming within me, making a home the longer I inhale the scent of the sweat lining on your neck and dripping between your breasts. The urge to take something from you and corrupt you in a way that’s completely different from sinking my cock into you. The urge to bite, and suck, and claim you. It was usually a desire I kept at bay, taking precautionary measures with in order to avoid any sort of hasty decisions during such encounters. But, with you, and your sweet scent and bashful eyes, the urge to taste what ran through your veins was raging within me.
I move from your neck, hoping to distract myself. I brush my fingers against the knot of your cloak, and with a small nod from you, untie it. It pools against the chair, and my eyes immediately fall to your heaving chest, just the faintest bit of cleavage exposed from your modest dress. I duck down, your hands going to my hair and tightly pulling when I run my tongue along the exposed valley, goosebumps erupting on your chest.
I feel another tug, and suddenly, my head is being yanked back. I watch in confusion as you let go after such a harsh pull, for your face is hot with desire, eyes wide, lips wet and tongue nearly hanging out. You shift your gaze down, avoiding me as your arms work back, beginning to undo your dress. I lick my lips in anticipation, trying not to lunge and do it myself.
You peel off the fabric, letting the top part of it crumple and hug your hips, exposing your entire torso to me in the golden light of the fire. I’m nearly speechless at the sight of your breasts, the only thing certain in my mind being that I rightfully do belong on my knees at this moment.
You’re tugging on your bottom lip again, arms awkwardly pressing against your sides, which only pushes your breasts together even more. Your eyes wander slowly to my face, looking at me through your lashes with both lust and curiosity. “Do you like… them?”
I cannot help but chuckle at the question. “Is it even necessary to ask me that? All I can think of right now is everything I want to do to you.”
Your legs suddenly tighten together again. “I have only done this sort of thing once or twice. I’m afraid I’m not very experienced.”
I stand to my feet and extend my hand to you. “Don’t fret. We’ll have you well-practiced in no time.”
You shakily take it, and let me lead you to the North wing.
Immediately, once we are in my bed chambers, I lay you on the thick, patterned blankets, your hair resting upon the hills of pillows. Your chest rises and falls heavily, and my eyes greedily drink up the sight of your breasts. I ignore my near-to-feral needs and loosen my collar for comfort’s sake as you eagerly watch. This time, when you rub your legs together, a wet squelch can be heard and your face scrunches up in embarrassment when I raise an eyebrow.
I step forward, hooking my fingers around the fabric bunched at your hips. With a meek nod from you, I pull it down, tugging down on your undergarments as I make my way to your feet.
Finally, you’re clad in nothing but desire, wetness already apparent on the curls surrounding your pussy. Your thighs are aching for my fingers to bruise them, your hips begging for me to squeeze them, and your entire body ready to be worshipped. And still, such a silly girl you are, whimpering under the heat of my stare.
With a smirk, I’m crawling over your body, lowering myself for one long, wet kiss, your lips chasing mine as I back away. In the cold chill of my room, even with the fire, your body is more sensitive than before, nipples hard and perked up. I ghost the tips of my fingers around them, eyeing your every twitch and squeeze. Your body fidgets and thrusts against the air under mine, clearly aching for something more than the brief, whispering touches I’m giving to your breasts.
I stick my tongue out and flick it against one. Your moan is high and keening.
“Beg me for more,” I murmur, going back to circling with my fingers.
You choke out a cry before folding your lips together. “Please…”
“Please what?”
“I–I can’t,” you moan. “It’s too embarrassing, too shameful.”
I flatten my tongue, dragging it long and hard against the hard bud, sending you trembling beneath me. “If your body craves it this bad, it can’t be too shameful, hm? Why hold back now when you’re so close to getting what you want?”
Your fingers squeeze around the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I… Please, I want your mouth on my breasts. I want you to touch me… roughly. Without hesitation.”
I laugh softly, squeezing your breasts with my hands as I finally close my mouth around one, licking abrasively against your tight nipple. Your body arches into my mouth, wails falling from your lips as I flick the tip of my tongue against the sensitive little nub before closing my lips around it and sucking hard. Your hips meet my clothed thigh and you begin to thrust half-mindedly, clearly trying to find some touch for your poor, neglected clit. I press my leg further into you, giving into your needs and letting you use my body to get off. I switch to your other breast, gliding my teeth against your nipples, then licking around the bump of it to soothe the sting, the sensation of it only sending more wetness coating my slacks. Feeling it hit my skin sends a burst of lust through me, and I start pressing hot, needy kisses down your stomach. You whine at the loss of my thigh, but I hush you quietly. “I’ll be taking care of you soon enough, my love.”
Your hips buck up at the promise, encouraging me to move faster until my face is finally in front of your sopping, swollen cunt. I glance at your face, my mouth twitching at the sight of you focused on the ceiling, clearly too embarrassed to watch my ministrations. But, it’s okay. I know you’ll eventually look.
I slide my arms under your thighs, pressing a kiss to one. “Please, will you open up for me?”
With a small noise, you nod, spreading your legs further until your pussy is on full display. I curse under my breath at the sight of it. I knew you’d be wet, but God, not like this. Your inner thighs are smeared with your juices, and your folds practically sheen with them. I touch two fingers to your lips, a soft gasp above me from the contact. And when I spread them, I’m licking my lips at the sight of your clit, which is jutting from under the hood, begging and desperate to be toyed with.
I press my face into the wetness, inhaling a deep breath of your scent. A shaky cry erupts from you, and I move my nose in deeper, rubbing it against that spot right below your clit, sucking in that smell as much as I can. The urge, the one I was trying to escape from, was back, but it couldn’t matter less to me. I needed to ravage you.
I stick my tongue out, and while still deep in your cunt, I begin roughly licking you all over, sliding my tongue against your folds without relent before I reach to your clit and begin lapping at it like a person starved. I lick and lick without cease, diving into your hole and beginning to fuck you with my tongue. Your thighs shake against my head, moans and cries tumbling from those fuckable lips of yours. One hand grips the sheets, while the other curls into my hair and keeps me in place as I bob my head against your pussy, pushing my tongue in and out as fast as I can, as fast as my cock would drill into you. Your legs close against my ears, breathily saying, “Please, please, more, I just…”
I stop momentarily, feeling the cool air hit the wetness coating my chin and cheeks. “You just what?”
“I just need to come,” you sob, hips beginning to bounce on the bed from the lack of touch. “Please, please, I just, ah, God…”
Your pleas drift into the air as I get my mouth back on you, softly kissing across your entire pussy, taking my time to savour it before giving you what you need. My lips soak in your wetness, sticky and tangy, as they flatten against every inch of your folds, impatiently seizing the taste of everything you had to offer. I sigh into your cunt, praising whatever ounce of fate led you to my doorstep tonight. I finally press a tender kiss to your bulging clit, my lips perfectly hugging the round shape of it. You shudder above me, back arching and giving me the perfect view of your breasts.
I tighten the grip of my lips on your clit and start sucking, slowly, with all the intention of exploration. I squeeze my arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to my face, as in and out, my lips grip then let go of your sweet clit. Your hand brushes my hair from my face, and I find you looking down upon me, your eyes watering and mouth forming the prettiest O, as you pant and brokenly gasp whenever I suck harder. It makes me only intensify what I’m doing, my lips beginning to tug your clit into my mouth at longer and harder intervals, putting enough pressure on that sweet spot until you’re shifting under me. And when you do, I stick my tongue out and start stroking it flatly up and down the stiff shape of it, which sends you eagerly pushing your cunt in my face.
I can feel it, hear it. Your breaths begin to come out faster and sharper, the wetness of your hole begins to leak against my tongue more, and your body heats up under my palms. I focus on what brings out the loudest noises in you, closing my eyes in concentration as I continue to apply short, stinging sucks to your clit. When I linger on one, my lips latched onto it for two moments longer, my tongue poking out to flick at it, your thighs clench and flex under my hands, your entire body shaking in one heavy wave as you release a string of cries. I moan at the sight of you, twisting and sensitive under my touch, the sensation sending your feet pressing against my back.
I continue to softly play with your clit, humming against it as your breath evens out. When you tap my head, I release with a soft pop, watching you the entire way through.
You whimper, biting your lip.
“What is it?” I ask, wiping the back of my hand against my dripping chin.
oh my GOD i want a butch sucking on my nipples while i play with their hair and coo how they're being such a good boy for me. wanna kiss their head and rub their back as they eagerly try to take my soft tit fully into their mouth, which opens up so desperately and hungrily, just needing something to stretch their lips over. wanna feel their shivers of pleasure when i mewl and praise them for lapping at my aching peak so, so well.
can we talk about this for a second? i'm sorry, but it grates my nerves SO bad to see posts like this. there is such a trend i've been seeing on lesbian-social-media lately -- where treating mascs, studs and butches in a way that affirms and celebrates their masculinity is seen as toxic or wrong. like, do some people not realize that some lesbians do not want to be treated in a way that highlights femininity? that some lesbians want to be spoken to, treated and loved in a way that is affirming of their innate masculinity and their desire to translate that into real-life behaviours and relationships?
which brings me to my next point -- why do we act like affirming a lesbian's masculinity and doting on them are two separate things lmfao? you do not need to treat someone like a princess to treat them well. sure, some mascs do want princess treatment, and that is wonderful and valid. but, i am tired regarding the fact that the act of not treating your masc like a princess is equated to treating them like shit. like, no. you can care for someone, and dote on them and love on them without applying feminine terms/language to them or framing them in a feminine light. again, if that's what your partner wants, great! but, guys, let's please stop acting like the absence of femininity in the way you perceive and treat your partner is an inherently toxic thing. masculinity is not exclusively for cis men, masculinity is not the absence of gentleness or softness, nor is femininity the epitome of it.
if anything, i think it's quite a narrow lens to just assume that not treating your partner like a princess -- that is, treating them "like a man" and giving their masculinity the respect, honour and celebration it deserves -- is the same as not treating them with love or care. let's please reframe how we see masculinity, especially in queer spaces, for again, it's not the absence of love or care.
