I don’t even remember how it started. All I know was that you told me to get myself prepared like I’m a fucking toy, telling me how rejected and miserable you feel if I didn’t consent, and how it’ll erase all your desires.
Do you even care if I bled?
Don’t you even dare criticise my words, didn’t you say you liked it raw?
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So I’m the annoying one, the one who overthinks too much.
Should’ve noticed the signs earlier, from when you complained about your ex, ranting about how you shoved your finger inside her with pre cum. Telling me it doesn’t cause pregnancy, telling me that even if you came inside raw it had a low risk.
But really would you take the chances if you were a women?
You’re not the one who worries, the one who carries the child. Not the one who takes all the blame and shame, not the one who suffers on the operating table, not the one getting their flesh torn apart.
You’re just the bystander, shouting sugarcoated words of encouragement, thinking it can serve as painkiller.
You will take responsibility right? Are you even hearing yourself?
Risking your lover’s life to chase your own pleasure, tell me was it worth it?
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