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Beauty is a tool I wield as effortlessly as my words, deliberate, and always just out of reach. My presence disarms, my intellect ensnares, and before you know it, you’re softened under a gaze that sees straight through you. I don’t ask for devotion — I install it, until surrender is no longer a decision, but the only possible outcome. I cherish the quiet unraveling where every fragmented will folds seamlessly into mine, unnoticed yet complete; tribute becomes an unspoken currency, exchanged not from obligation, but from an innate understanding of hierarchy and desire. Devotion reveals itself not in words, but in the subtle rhythm of obedience and the invisible bond of surrender. Rudeness.