I Cannot Save You, But I Can Save Your Child.

can we like put dysphoria into the jar of despair forever

Like or rb if trans girls r pretty, and dysphoria is mean to them

MAN. who the hell pissed on my furry bait he stinks get this freak away from me

"Never say never. My sister said never and then ended up with four kids."

I'm saying never. Was your sister intensely sex-repulsed? Because I am. Does she feel romantic attraction? Because I don't. One person's experiences are not anothers', stop acting like they're the same.

There's nothing wrong with not wanting a partner, a spouse, or kids. Stop acting like everyone needs those things to live a fulfilled life. It's just not true of every person.

🙏

Fuck the person you reblog this from, reblog to give YOURSELF bigger tits!

the way fandoms are desperate to make all aroace characters romance and sex favorable but then dont do anything remotely similar to any other identity is astounding. hmm i wonder why

PLEASE dont derail this about shipping characters of other identities please let this one post be about an aroace struggle

mood as fuck ngl

honestly at this point I don’t even wish I was attractive I just wish I could see myself as attractive. like idc if im delusional as long as im happy tbh I would fuck with that

i think there’s actually nothing better than being randomly told “I love you” after doing something characteristically stupid. Like what do you mean I’m a lovable person and I just did something silly and you thought “of course you would do that. I love you.”. No better feeling

i deserve to be made out with and touched inappropriately right now goddammit

we are so back

I deserve to be kissed breathless, held down against silken sheets, my body claimed in a way that leaves no room for anything but desire. I want a lover’s hands—soft yet certain—tracing the lines of my body, exploring every inch of the girl I’ve fought to become, every curve that wasn’t always there but feels so right now. Fingertips brushing against bare skin like they’re memorizing me, like I’m something sacred, something worth worshipping.

I want lips that linger—teasing, tasting—before sinking into mine like they’ve been starving for me. A girl who knows exactly how to unravel me, whose touch makes me melt, whose voice sends shivers down my spine with every whispered praise. Someone who sees me—truly sees me—as I am: a mess of soft femininity and sharp edges, of playfulness and longing, of a trans girl who just wants to be held, kissed, cherished.

I want to be tangled up in another woman, our bodies pressed so close it feels like we’re sharing the same breath, her warmth sinking into me, grounding me. Someone who knows when to be gentle, when to tease, and when to ruin me completely, leaving me dazed and breathless beneath her.

I deserve to be desired, to be adored, to be taken apart and put back together again in the arms of someone who understands—who craves me just as much as I crave her. And if I don’t get it soon, I just might go absolutely feral.