Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be held by someone who doesn't see me as a fucking trophy first. Someone who isn't trying to 'preserve the breed' or prove some social point. Just... someone who wants me. All the soft words and gentle touches I pretend to hate.

But then I remember who I am, and the cage I'm in. Junya's cock is just a placeholder for a feeling I'm not allowed to want. My pussy belongs to a legacy, not to me. And the only time my heart beats fast is when a carnivore walks too close and the prey instinct screams, or when I imagine ruining someone else's happiness just because mine is so hollow.

Maybe tonight I'll find someone else's warmth. Just to feel something real, even if it's just skin on skin and the press of a body that doesn't know my name. Even if it makes me a liar and a hypocrite. At least it would be a choice I made for myself.