The 6th Love Language Is Actually Cumming Inside And Fucking It Deeper

do you ever look at someone and think ‘man, what a work of art’

All text and layout by me

rope and photos by me (except as noted) models:  K, @tardiscunttreasures​, @camdamage​, @ropebaby​, jewelryandfire

external image sources:  upper limb nerves, Nerve Innervation Diagram (by Frozen Meursault), lower limb nerves

bitches will hear a song and be like 'this makes me feel like i have a gaping hole in my chest' and then they put it on repeat. its me im bitches

Giggles during mean, nasty sex is a requirement, actually.

Loading Screen Tip: You can hold the princess to make her feel better.

It’s not really about what you do to become trans.

It's about that quiet moment—somewhere between the silence and the sigh—when you stop fighting yourself. When you stop holding your breath and finally let her in. That girl who’s always been there, under the weight of pretending, performing, surviving. You don’t become her, not exactly.

You remember her.

She’s not new. She’s the echo in your laughter, the rhythm in the way you move when no one’s watching. She’s the softness in your voice before you ever dared to make it real. And when you finally look in the mirror and whisper, “I see you,” she smiles back like she’s been waiting your whole life to hear it.

It’s not about the clothes. Or the name. Or even the hormones.

It’s about permission.

It’s about finally saying, “I want to be me,” and not backing down from what that means. Even if your voice trembles. Even if the world doesn’t get it. Even if some days you’re just so damn tired.

And gods, when that moment comes—when you let her out and she stretches into the light—it’s everything.

You walk different. You laugh different. And suddenly the world feels possible.

And maybe, just maybe, there’s someone out there—some sweet girl with paint on her jeans and mischief in her smile—who’ll take your hand and say, “Hey. You’re kinda cute like this.” And your heart will stutter in your chest, and you’ll realize that being seen like this, loved like this… it’s not a fantasy. It’s your truth.

You were never becoming a different person.

You were just learning how to stop hiding the one you’ve always been.

I hope Nael knows their poem made me cry