i love cishets and their somewhat ugly pride merch that lets us know they're at least fairly safe to be around i'm serious. like genuinely being like 13 and seeing random adults at the store in black "love is love" shirts where every letter is a different pride flag and the whole thing clashes horribly was the most comforting thing.
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doctors are so fucking funny; if you go in like "based on my extensive research and corroborations i think i have this Disease" they will immediately go on the defensive and ask you demeaning shit like "how do you even know this Disease exists?" but if you go in and play stupid and say "gee whiz i'm just a silly little bimbo who doesn't know a thing but i have symptom, symptom, symptom, and symptom" they will very eagerly be like "oh wow, that sounds like Disease!"
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the amount of trans people i see who are scared to identify as straight is mind boggling. like people who will explicitly say that they are scared to identify as straight. i can only amount it to the growing preceived divide between being straight and being queer, where people arent learning that you CAN be both if youre trans. and ive experienced a lot of hostility just for being an opinionated straight trans guy on this app. like i dont care if you dont think this is a "real problem," i do. i think queer people should be free to feel comfortable in their identity, and if that identity is het-leaning, heterosapphic, het-dyke, hetgay, queerhet, transhet, or literally just straight and heterosexual, they should be free to
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i so desperately want to write a dark romance with the concept of consuming as a form of intense, obsessive yet ominously beautiful, love with trueform sukuna.
i want him to love reader so much that he almost wants to literally eat her, and i want her to see it not as something to be terrified of, but to accept and recognise that his desire to devour you is not out of malice, but rather, something of adoration...
his mad infatuation would reveal itself in many, many forms. just by simply looking at you, his eyes darken, and his gaze seems to poke and prod at your soul, constantly analysing and soaking the sight of you into his memories. the way all four of his hands touch you, his searing hot palms smoothing over you, littering deep bruises across, claiming your skin as his canvas, embedding marks that indicate his presence in all and every way possible.
how his lips possessively captures yours, tongue twisting around in your mouth - sukuna kisses you with a type of hunger that goes unmatched by anybody else-- his engagements with you are all-consuming, meaning that he doesn't let you get a moment to think about anything else, too pre-occupied with his flames that lick up at your flesh, threatening to burn you down to cinders with its intensity, unmerciful. and when his teeth sinks in, a cry escapes your throat - a cry that isn't pleading for help, but is pleading for more.
sukuna's adam's apple would bob up and down as he swallows dryly, enduring another night of wishing to absolutely devour you whole, and leave nothing of you behind. it certainly doesn't help that you encourage him, egg him on.
he mustn't- he mustn't- he mustn't--
for who will comfort him from the loneliness that would follow, if he loses you to himself?
he satiates his aching desires by lapping up your honey-sweet blood from your inflicted bite wounds, addicted to your unique, intoxicating flavour.
you smile deliriously, like a madwoman, helplessly enamoured by sukuna's dangerous, distorted, yet an undeniably powerful form of his love.
Masterlist
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