Kiana Khansmith
No title available
if i look back, i am lost
JVL
tumblr dot com
No title available
Kaledo Art
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
Discoholic 🪩
No title available
Origami Around
tannertan36
Cosmic Funnies
Sweet Seals For You, Always
No title available
Product Placement
blake kathryn
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
ojovivo
KIROKAZE
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from France
seen from Australia
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from Mexico
seen from Argentina
seen from Thailand
seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@gentle-sadist2
New blog, same shadow.
41, calm voice, sharp mind
Name: says enough
Location: cold, rainy, fucked up
Blog: not made for the masses
18+ only or I’ll block you.
I see more than I say.
Ask, if you must. I don’t chase.
Backup-Account
Too strong?
I want your consent clear before I make you feel like you have none. I want you nervous, exposed, restrained, and completely aware that every cruel little thing I do is happening because you trusted me enough to hand me the choice.
I’d take your panties, press them against me, and ruin them with every filthy thought you were too sweet to admit you wanted in my head.
Real obedience does not begin in fear. It begins when her body stops looking for the exit.
She does not obey because I made myself loud. That kind of obedience is weak. Temporary. Almost pathetic. She obeys because her body starts to understand that I am not here to confuse her, abandon her, or punish her for needing guidance. She obeys because something in her finally stops bracing.
by slutfocate
The fantasy is not that I stop being possessive. The fantasy is that I become possessive enough to turn your humiliation into a ritual. You blindfolded on my bed, wrists tied, your body exposed, your pride slowly stripped away while they watch what happens to a sweet little thing when I decide she needs to be ruined properly. They could call you filthy names. They could see you blush, shake, whimper, lose that pretty little composure. But the entire time, you would know the truth. You are not theirs. You are being displayed like something owned. Used in a fantasy, degraded by permission, but still emotionally chained to me. And afterward, when the room is empty, you would crawl back into my arms because I am the one who gets the broken little after.
