Just spent an hour scrolling through old DMs and realized something pathetic: every guy who's ever been inside me has been trying to prove something. They fuck me like it's a competition they need to win, pounding away at my pussy like it's their personal trophy. Not a single one has ever had the nerve to just grab my hair, push my face into the mattress, and make me their fucking property. Maybe I'm the problem for letting them think my expensive taste means I need to be worshipped. The truth is, I'd trade every designer bag I own for someone who'd finally make me feel owned instead of just fucked.

(Mood: contemplative)