It's Really Cool That I'm At A Place In My Life Where 12 Trans Women Gathering In My Apartment To Hang

I can officially say I'm getting better at bottoming... slowly lol. Maybe one day I'll take the "bad at bottoming" out of my bio.

A partner who fills your cup every time you see them, a friend who takes a bit of your burden, a parent who tells you everything will be alright, a stranger who holds the door just a bit longer for you.

Thank you all

"someone who allows you to rest" is the relationship dynamic of all time

Wanna try my latest brew?

What a slobbery little pup you are, huh? Always drooling over one thing or another... Usually it's me that makes you drool though, isn't it? I wanna hear you say it. Tell me "Goddess, you make me drool sooo much" like the airheaded mutt you are.

And you know what that drool is perfect for, runt? I'm sure you do. Now get to it...

*click click!*

Good puppy.

FUN FACT:

some girls when seeing pink text are much much more likely to do what it says! and also sometimes get horny with little understanding why!

Go piss girl

How It Starts

It’s innocent at first—just two trans girls sitting way too close, sharing mirrors and brushes, pretending this is just about eyeliner techniques and not about the way our hands keep lingering on each other’s skin. You tilt my chin up, fingers brushing my jaw, and I swear I forget how to breathe.

By the time we’re negotiating our little trade—you’ll teach me how to wing my liner if I do your dishes—the tension has already shifted. The touches last a little longer, the teasing gets a little bolder. The compliments start flowing, layered between giggles and stolen glances.

"Your lips look so soft with that gloss."

"Your skin is so smooth—I could touch it all day."

And then—

It’s in that moment, breath catching, fingers hesitating over soft, shivering skin, that we both realize:

Trans girls who get flustered when you compliment them are so cute, like…

And suddenly, one of us is saying it out loud. Come here so I can feel how hard you are.

The words hang between us, thick with heat, a teasing challenge wrapped in a promise. Eyes flicker, lips part, and suddenly, we’re not pretending anymore. The playful touches become something else—gravitational, inevitable.

One moment, we’re giggling over how clumsy we are at getting each other’s tops off, fingers fumbling over straps, buttons, fabric that suddenly feels far too complicated. The next, our laughter is swallowed by gasps and soft, desperate moans, mouths crashing together in messy, lip-gloss-stained kisses.

Fingers tremble against bare skin, tracing curves we’re still learning to love, gripping hips as we grind together, slowly, achingly, lost in the heat. The world outside doesn’t exist—just us, two desperate girls making up for every moment we were denied this kind of love before.

Breathless, needy, we praise each other between gasps. You’re doing so good. You feel so good. Hands roam, nails dig into soft flesh, and for once—just this once—there is no shame, no hesitation.

Just pleasure. Just warmth. Just us.

any trans girl born after 1993 can’t think… all they know is good puppy, charge her vibrator, bark, kiss her owner, eat kibble & whine

You’re not depressed. You just need $250,000 in your bank account.