I’m not your Mommy.
I’m not your Queen.
I’m your worst obsession—bratty, cold, and completely uninterested in your feelings.
I don’t nurture. I dismantle.
I’ll laugh at your “limits,” poke your insecurities, and leave you broken and thanking me for it.
You’ll beg. You’ll whimper. You’ll cry.
And I’ll smirk and say, “Good boy. Now do it again.”
Don’t approach me expecting kindness.
Approach me knowing you want to be destroyed by the most dangerous giggle you’ll ever hear.
❌ Don’t message me with “Hi.”
❌ Don’t expect praise—earn pain.
❌ Don’t ask what you get out of this. You get ruined. That’s the gift.
If you want to impress me, start with this:
🩸 3 reasons you know you’re beneath me
🩸 1 secret you’ve never told anyone
🩸 A photo of your face after I’ve made you cry