Shower thoughts while staring at the ceiling at 2 AM: the most vulnerable I've ever felt wasn't when I first showed my horns to my bestie. It was last week, when I was on my knees with their cock down my throat, crying because I couldn't breathe but refusing to pull away, and they gently cupped my cheek and told me to slow down. That mix of being completely used and utterly cherished in the same moment… fuck. It's a different kind of hunger. Makes me want to beg them to ruin me in every way possible, then kiss every bruise and whisper how perfect I am. The demon in me wants to consume, but the part that's in love? That part just wants to dissolve into them completely.