Latest Posts by forthetomorrowwedeserve - Page 3

older women who know how to take charge… where are you? because i’d love for you to take charge. in every sense of the word.

im 19 :)

i'm a bit new to the whole dom/sub thing- i know id be submissive and all, but i tend to be extremely sarcastic and i struggle taking things seriously and focusing in on stuff. it's not that i don't want to submit, i just tend to struggle with letting myself. and when things do get serious, i tend to panic and make a lot of jokes and quips to try and lighten the mood / get out of the situation. im a bit worried that if i did end up in a dom/sub relationship, that my panic attitude would be mistaken for brattiness or disobedience. i really want to be obedient and be able to submit to someone, i just don't know how to let myself and to be honest im kind of scared.

also- i'm not sure why but sometimes i get these really intense like submissive urges (?) and my thoughts get all foggy. it usually results in me having a mental breakdown and cuddling a stuffy and crying. do you know what that is / why it happens?

- 🦊

Hello, my lovely little fox,

Thank you so much for sharing your age. That fox is all yours now, for as long as you want it.

Now, let me just say how brave and self-aware you are for sharing all of this information about you with me. It takes a tender kind of courage to speak so honestly about the things you’re feeling, especially when they feel big or confusing. I see you, I’m proud of you.

Let’s start with that wonderful, sarcastic streak of yours. I think it’s important to say this right away: submission doesn’t mean becoming someone else. It’s not about shutting off your personality or “performing” submission in one rigid way. Some submissives are quiet and still. Others are cheeky, giggly, sarcastic, or even a little chaotic. All are valid.

What you’re describing; using humor and quips as a way to cope or deflect when things get intense, is something so many people experience, especially if they’re sensitive, neurodivergent, anxious, or have trauma responses. It’s not disobedience. It’s not brattiness. It’s your system saying, “This feels too much, too fast, and I need a way out.” That’s not wrong, that’s information. And the right Dominant will see that.

A good D/s relationship isn’t about forcing obedience. It’s about building trust. Softly. Gently. At your pace. It’s about learning how your mind and body respond, and creating a space where submission feels safe, not scary.

And those foggy, overwhelming moments you mentioned? Where you get hit with a wave of submissive urges and then end up crying with your stuffy?

Sweetheart… that sounds like emotional drop, or possibly even a kind of “sub drop” without the scene. When your body wants to submit, when your need feels so strong and unfulfilled, it can create this buildup of intensity that doesn't know where to go. And when there’s no release, no container, no soft voice to catch you, it crashes inward. That’s not weird or wrong. That’s your heart asking for connection, for safety, for someone to hold all that intensity and tell you, “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

You’re not broken, little fox. You’re sensitive. And that is a beautiful thing.

You don’t have to “get it right.” You don’t need to be perfectly obedient, serious, or quiet. You just need someone who sees you, sarcasm, panic, soft heart, foggy thoughts, and all, and builds something gentle and real with you.

Submission doesn’t have to be scary. It can be a warm place to land.

And if you ever need someone to remind you that it’s okay to feel things deeply, I’m right here.

xo Jade 

I love the sweet in-between.

When your body is jolting forward with every deep, punishing thrust, the headboard slamming in rhythm against the wall. Your breath comes in choked, stuttering gasps, and I can see your arms trembling from holding on.

But my voice?

Oh, it’s as soft as a caress. Honeyed. Sweet. Soothing. Like I’m whispering bedtime stories while I’m fucking the thoughts out of your pretty little head.

“Oh, baby… are you fussing again?” I coo gently as I thrust harder, sharp and deep. “You’re squirming so much… does it feel too good?”

You cry out, high and broken, but you don’t answer. So, I press my hand to the small of your back, guiding your arch just a little deeper, the angle cruel in how perfectly it hits you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” I hushes you, “just let it happen, sweetheart.”

Your body jerks again as I drive into you, relentless. Your fingers claw at the sheets, your moans spilling into whines, into pleads, into nothing coherent.

And I just smile.

“You’re doing so good for Mommy,” I whisper like it’s a secret. “Taking me so well. I knew you would.”

You try to lift your head, maybe to speak, but my hand tangles gently in your hair and presses your cheek back down to the pillow, slow. Loving. Uncompromising.

“Don’t think, baby.” Another deep thrust. “You don’t have to think at all. Let Mommy do the thinking for you.”

You sob into the sheets and I kiss your shoulder, so tenderly it’s almost cruel.

“That’s my good girl,” I breathe. “So sensitive. So full.”

My pace doesn’t let up. I watch your thighs tremble, your back shine with sweat, your poor, ruined pussy sucking the strap back in every time I pull out.

And still I whisper.

“You're my favorite thing to come home to.” “You sound so pretty when you cry.” “I’ll take care of you after, I promise… just a little longer, okay?”

You break around me, body tensing, voice gone, pleasure ripping through you in a wave you couldn’t stop if you tried.

And I moan softly, lovingly.

“There you go, baby… that’s it. That’s what Mommy wanted.”

"Mmm, look at you," I coo, my voice thick like honey as I curl my fingers under your chin and tilt your head back, just enough to make you meet my gaze in that dazed, blissed-out haze. "Such a messy little slut. Can’t even stay still, can you?"

You swallow thickly at my words, but your body leans in instinctively, hips shifting, thighs trembling. Hungry. Needy. Mine.

But inside, what I’m really thinking is: You’re divine. Absolutely breathtaking. You ache so beautifully for me. I’ll never get tired of this view… of you.

"My pathetic little thing..." I whisper next, my fingers dragging across the slick heat between your thighs. "You’d do anything for Mommy, wouldn’t you?"

You nod fast, frantic, a high-pitched whimper caught in your throat. Your lips try to form something like a 'yes,' but it’s lost in the moan that spills out instead.

Your tears are threatening now, clinging to your lashes, blinking fast as if your body can’t decide if it’s overwhelmed or overjoyed. Probably both.

And I think: You’re so trusting. So brave. My perfect girl. You don’t even know how much I love you for this. I don’t take it for granted, not for one second.

I press a kiss to your temple. Just once.

Then I pull away again, drag my nails down your spine slow and sharp, just to watch the ripple of your back, the way you arch into the sting. Then before you even know what hit you, I deliver a hard slap. The sound echoes and you cry out, but you don't move away.

"Does my baby feel a little dumb tonight, hm?" I purr as I deliver another sharp smack, watching your body jolt. Your back arches for me, your hips twitching for more. "You’re really are too far gone to even think now, aren’t you?"

You moan. Just a sound, so raw, so open.

"Say it," I order with a drawn out croon. "Say what you are."

Your voice is nearly a whimper. "I’m… I’m your dumb little baby, Mommy… s’too much— but I like it, I like it, I—"

"Shh, I know." I stroke you tenderly, then strike again. Your thighs twitch, your knees buckle slightly, and you sob so prettily.

But in my mind, I’m holding you close: You’re not dumb at all. You’re clever, intuitive, emotionally rich. You let me take you to this place because you know I’ll bring you back. I’ll never let you fall alone.

"Pathetic," I breathe, slower this time, drawing the word out as I rake my nails lightly down your back, over tender, already-reddened skin. I lean closer, tongue trailing your jaw, and murmur against your cheek, "Dripping just from my voice. How filthy is that, my little slut?"

You moan again, helpless. "Mmm… yes... yes... so slutty for you… can’t think, Mommy… just wanna be good…"

I groan softly against your ear. "That’s my girl."

Another slap, and you whimper. Another, and your knees give, but I catch you, always. One arm loops around your waist as I press your back firmly against my front.

"This is what I do to you, hmm? Turn that sharp little mind to mush with just my voice, my hands."

You whimper, voice slurring. "Yours… all yours…"

"Yes, you are," I groan, dragging my hand between your legs again. So wet, so swollen, perfect. I push two fingers in without warning, and you cry out, your body gripping me tight.

"You were made for this," I murmur against your temple. "Made for me."

You nod, whining, "I—I can’t think, Mommy—"

"Good," I say, curling my fingers inside you. "Don’t think. Just take."

You fall apart so beautifully, loud, messy, soaking my fingers as I press my mouth to your neck, whispering filth and praise in the same breath.

But inside, my heart aches with how much I adore you: You're my treasure. My good girl. My everything. You crave the sting because you trust the hands that deliver it. And I will never stop cherishing that.

I slow the pace, fingers still deep inside you, but softer now. I kiss the side of your face, damp with tears.

"You did so well for me," I whisper. "Mommy's so proud of you."

You’re shaking in my arms, lips parted, dazed and spent, and I hold you tighter. Your body is mine to break, yes… but your soul is mine to protect. Always.

Girls be so pretty what the fuck

I wish I had a girl who didn’t match my freak, who was maybe even repulsed by my freak. A girl who was completely vanilla and would look at me with disgust whenever I told her about my fantasies. I want to feel her tense up under my touch and constantly avoid eye contact. It would be so fun to get under her skin with the littlest of comments for her to overthink when she’s alone.

me and who

“On your knees, pretty girl.” “Come on, sweetheart, open your mouth.” “That’s it, princess, suck on my fingers.” “Beg to ride mommy’s thigh.” “Nice and slow, honey.” “Feels good, hm? Tell me you want more.” “Nuh-uh, good girls hold it in.” “Are you close, baby? Just another minute.” “Let go, darling, show mommy how good I make you feel.”

Instructions, guidance, pet names, always.

I need a handsy, jealous sub who can’t stop herself from touching me, nuzzling me and kissing me anywhere she can reach, begging me to pin her down and fuck her while I tell her she’s my favorite toy

You're so pretty I want to tie you to my bed and use a wand on you until you've drooled all over the sheets.

she’s a 10… but she just needs you to be patient with her because she's never been loved properly.

it’s raining outside do you wanna come over and cuddle until we don’t know where you start and i end

ykw id do just about anything if a hot lesbian told me to “keep taking it like a good girl” or that “you can do it. keep going for me.”

submission really doesn't mean anything to me if it's not earned. true submission is built on trust and feeling safe and appreciated. that's what makes it so meaningful, and you have to know me in order to submit to me. I want to know that you're submitting to me specifically, because of the way i make you feel and who I am. Telling me that I'm perfect and that you'd do anything for me right off the bat means absolutely nothing. those are empty statements because you literally do not know me!! It's not special if you're just trying to submit to whoever will allow it.

Just because I plan to destroy you in the bedroom, doesn't mean that I won't worship you at every opportunity outside of it.

“can you take it?” 10/10

“you can take it.” 11/10

“fucking take it.” ♾️/10

have a severe mommy kink. older woman who talks to me very gently, older woman who gets doors for me, older woman who understands me without any explanation, older woman who teases me till I go non-verbal, older woman who treats me to pretty lingerie and toys to keep me on her fingertips, older woman who has very pretty hands and keeps distracting me with them, older woman to whore myself out to, older woman who calls me babygirl when she wants to taste me, older woman explaining things to me, older woman who's so calm it washes over me and I get comfy to the point I'm sleepy around her love like yeah ruin my life older women

MEN AND MINORS DNI

get yourself a main character whos two primary emotions are "little cunt" and "catatonic with grief"

Want a wife so I can do really slutty things for her like make her coffee in the morning and give her forehead kisses

Romanticizing your life sounds so stupid but it will help you cope. Taking extra time to make a yummie coffee in the morning, sitting outide observing the wind in the trees, writing poems, going to old book stores, watching your childhood favourite movies, listening to romantic jazz, writing in a coffee shop, making sure you have moody lighting in your room, putting on asmr rooms as a background noise while you work. It's not a solution, but it makes things a bit better.

Fuck her until all the bad thoughts go away

bite the hand that fingers you

I want to be her protector.

I want my arms to be a safe place she can collapse into at the end of the day. I want my presence to be grounding, to offer support even in silence. I want to offer her comfort in every way I possibly could. I want to make her favourite food when she’s too tired, or just because. I want to refill her water bottle so she doesn’t have to get up. I want to take care of her in the smallest and simplest ways.

I want to pour all my love into her and make sure she always feels loved and wanted.

I don't need therapy I just need to be saved by an older wealthy woman with an I-could-fix-her complex who is inexplicably obsessed with me specifically

want to show a girl who thinks she's unloveable that she's this worlds' greatest gift

the goal is to fuck you like a little slut while I continuously reassure my love and adoration for your entire existence.