the dominant script

ⓘ Stay away if you’re not 18

ⓘ Don’t call me daddy or sir

[Update 06.11.25]

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Personal

Dominant by nature, but not here to dominate you.

I’m here to make you think, to feel, to understand what lies beneath control.

There’s more to a D/s dynamic than rules and obedience there’s trust, depth, and the space between both.

I’ve lived this for years, learned from the beauty and the mistakes.

This blog isn’t a manual of right or wrong, it’s a window into my perspective.

You’re welcome to look through it, to question it, to add your own.

My pictures - #me

Gentleman | Storyteller | Protector | Sir | Poetry

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Content Warning

This space is built on honesty, desire, structure, and the realities between them.

If you are here, you deserve to know what to expect:

#ask – a space for questions, curiosities, and honest thoughts. There are many kinds of questions here, about relationships that feel off balance, struggles within a Dom/sub dynamic, confusion born from lack of understanding, curiosity that’s just beginning to bloom, suggestions, and above all, feedback. You can ask anonymously or not, about anything that sits in your mind: How do I rebuild trust after being betrayed? Why do I crave control or submission the way I do? What’s the difference between discipline and manipulation? How do I communicate better in a D/s relationship? What makes a dynamic healthy, and when does it start to hurt? Every answer I give is just that, my view, shaped by my own experience and values. It’s not the universal truth, but one perspective among many. Take what resonates, question what doesn’t, and always think for yourself.

#storys / #community - I read endlessly, because every page feeds the part of me that never sleeps. The more I take in, the more I build, words, worlds, and the quiet power between both. I don’t write for attention. I write to release, to understand, to claim what lingers in the dark. Every story comes from experience, desire, and the discipline to turn both into something real. I’ve built a private community around those stories, a place for those who understand depth over noise. Ask if you want to enter. Not everyone belongs there.

#not that kind of dom diary – Glimpses behind the persona. Moments of thought, routine, and reflection from the man beneath the control. Not stories of lust or power, but the quieter things, coffee in the morning, silence after a long day, the thoughts that build the person more than the Dom. It’s a space to show that dominance isn’t just what happens in the dark, but also how one moves through the light.

#imagine – An open invitation to step inside a moment. Not just to read the words, but to feel them, to let your mind obey the rhythm between the lines. It’s where thought becomes sensation, and the imagination turns into the most powerful tool of all. Every scene is a test, of control, of surrender, of how deeply you allow yourself to be moved by what you can’t yet touch.

#not to be horny – The art of pretending I’m not. Slightly sarcastic, always intentional. Moments described in detail, not for shock, but to capture how a single touch, glance, or thought can unravel control. It’s where I confess what runs through my mind, how it feels, how I’d do it and how restraint can make desire speak louder than action ever could.

#thoughts - Raw pieces of my mind, written without apology. Some soft, built from quiet control and deliberate care. Others sharp, cruel, meant to strip away the layers people use to protect themselves. Each one a reflection of what power feels like, tender or merciless, depending on how deep you’re willing to go.

#shorts - Quick flashes from the darker corners of my mind. Words that strike without permission, fragments I couldn’t let vanish. Things I’ve thought, heard, or felt, sharpened into sentences that cut fast and leave slow scars.

#daily routine - Created for those who carry more than they show. Not just for a dynamic, but for anyone trying to hold their balance when life gets heavy. Small, intentional tasks to build structure, restore trust in yourself, quiet the noise, and remind you that discipline can be an act of care. These lists aren’t about control, they’re about finding a rhythm that keeps you standing when everything else asks you to fall.

#rules - Suggestions that reach far beyond the bedroom. Guidelines to shape discipline, mindset, and trust. Rules that anchor you when you drift, that remind you who you are when your thoughts turn loud. They aren’t about control for its own sake, but about the quiet transformation that comes when obedience meets genuine care.

#… – for all the other tags you’ll find scattered across this blog. I like to experiment, to breathe a little life into new ideas now and then. Some are passing thoughts, others grow into something deeper, but all of them are pieces of the same mind, unfolding one post at a time.

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Everyone deserves a space to explore their kinks, as long as they remain within the bounds of legality and basic human decency. This blog is for anyone who feels drawn to it. For anyone brave enough to want more. For anyone willing to meet curiosity with courage. What I write is shaped by real life, not just imagination. By the weight of experience, and by the words of others wiser than me.

I read endlessly, psychology, philosophy, dark romance, literature that cuts deeper than the surface. From twisted love stories to brutal truths, I feed my mind so I can feed yours.

My opinions are mine. Not commandments. If they disturb you, speak to me, with respect, and you will find it returned.

But if you come with accusations, insults, or hollow noise, you’ll find I have no interest in entertaining anything that doesn't know the value of real dialogue.

This space is for those who understand. Or those brave enough to want to.

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Sources

More than a decade on Tumblr.

Years of real experience in BDSM, Age-Play and CNC.

Not chasing recognition.

Not just here for self-serving pleasure.

Sharing is a passion, not a need.

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Kinks:

BDSM (especially Dom/Sub) - PE - DD/LG - CNC - and lot of more

Reblogs are welcome. Likes are optional. Obedience is not. – anonymous. but not absent.

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Backup-Account:

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Community:

I’ve created a new space. A small, growing community for those who enjoy the stories I write. Intense, dark, intimate. Dark romance is the focus, but the door is open for suggestions, inspiration and wild cravings. If you love reading twisted tension, power, desire, control and the pull between pain and devotion, you’re welcome. It’s not just for the voyeurs. It’s for those who feel the words in their chest. If that’s you…come find your place.

Comment or write me if you want to join.

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Kink of the day :

#bondage #choking #threesome #forced orgasm #abduction & captivity #breeding #cum control #praise #cockwarming / plug training #shibari / rope bondage #overstimulation #use kink

OR CLICK HERE

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Slowly. You don’t care for them by arguing with their fears or trying to convince them they’re worthy. Most people who have spent years surviving have heard the right words before. What they struggle to believe is consistency. So you show up. Calmly. Repeatedly. Without making them earn basic kindness. And even then, understand something important: you cannot heal someone by loving them harder than they are willing to receive. At some point, they have to participate in their own healing. If every act of kindness feels suspicious to them, don’t take it personally. Suspicion is often what trust looks like before it has had enough evidence.

But they also have a responsibility. A wounded person deserves compassion. They do not get a lifetime pass to reject every good thing that reaches for them. Sometimes the most caring thing you can do is stay steady. Not louder. Not more convincing. Just steady.

Because eventually, words fade into the background. And what remains is a simple question is “Has this person been safe to trust over time?”

…that I have a soft spot for the women who spend most of their lives wondering if they’re too much. Not because they are difficult. Not because they need fixing. But because they carry battles most people never even notice. They’re the ones who reread messages before sending them, the ones who wonder if they sounded annoying, the ones who start a sentence with “I’m sorry” even when they’ve done nothing wrong. They’re the ones who care deeply and then feel guilty for caring deeply. The ones who miss people quietly. The ones who think about conversations long after they’ve ended. The ones who notice every small change in tone, every delayed response, every shift in energy, and then sit alone trying to figure out what they did wrong.

And the saddest part is that most of them genuinely believe these things make them difficult to love.

I don’t think they realize how often those fears were taught to them. When enough people become inconsistent, you start questioning yourself. When enough people leave, you start expecting everyone to leave. When enough people make you feel unwanted, you start apologizing for wanting anything at all. So they become careful. Careful with their feelings. Careful with their questions. Careful with their needs. Careful with their hearts. Then one day they find themselves wondering if they’re too attached, too emotional, too sensitive, too needy.

No.

They’re just tired.

Tired of carrying uncertainty. Tired of pretending they don’t care. Tired of acting like being important to someone doesn’t matter.

Because it does matter. At least it does to me.

I value effort more than perfection. I value consistency more than intensity. I value the person who reaches out because they thought about me during their day. The one who sends the random photo. The unnecessary update. The good morning message. The good night message. The small “I miss you.” Not because I need constant attention, but because those little things tell a much bigger story. They tell me I crossed someone’s mind. They tell me I matter. And I think a lot of people secretly want that, even if they’re afraid to admit it.

The truth is, if I choose someone, I don’t expect perfection. I don’t expect them to be fearless. I don’t expect them to have every wound healed. I expect honesty. I expect communication. I expect effort. And if you’re sitting there wondering whether you’ve messaged too often, cared too deeply, become too attached, or made yourself too vulnerable, then listen carefully.

The right person won’t make you feel like a burden for wanting connection. They won’t punish you for caring. They won’t disappear every time things become complicated. And if I care about you, I don’t want the polished version that never needs reassurance. I want the real version. The overthinking. The unnecessary apologies. The random messages. The moments of uncertainty. The quiet admissions. The parts you keep trying to hide because you’re afraid they’ll make people leave.

Because those are usually the exact parts that deserve to be held the most.

This is the reason many men slowly stop talking, withdraw emotionally, or one day simply leave.

A lot of women forget that men experience emotions differently. Not less deeply. Just differently.

And then something very common happens. A man comes to you with a problem. Not yelling. Not dramatic. Usually careful, controlled, almost hesitant. And because what he says doesn’t sound emotional enough or “serious” enough, it gets dismissed quickly.

“You’re overreacting.”

“That’s not a real problem.”

“Why are you so sensitive?”

But something important gets overlooked there. Most men are raised to control their emotions. To stay composed. To endure. To not complain too much. To not take up emotional space unnecessarily.

So when a man actually brings something up, it’s usually not the first step. The first step was enduring it silently. The second was swallowing it down. Speaking about it was already the third step.

And if he isn’t taken seriously there, something changes.

He stops explaining.

He stops opening up.

He becomes quieter.

Not because he doesn’t care anymore, but because he learned that his feelings have no real place there.

Men and women are different. Not better, not worse. Just built differently. And understanding that difference is often what decides whether a relationship grows closer or slowly colder.

When a man says, “This is how it feels for me,” he’s usually not asking for a debate. Not for counterarguments. Not for someone to explain why he shouldn’t feel that way.

He’s asking to be understood for a moment.

And when you learn to take male emotions seriously instead of minimizing them, everything changes.

You’re reading certainty into fragments. That’s the danger of Tumblr. People see a few thoughts and start building entire stories around them.

I post things that sit in my mind. Observations. Experiences. Conversations. Sometimes personal, sometimes inspired by people around me, sometimes just reflections on patterns I keep seeing.

Of course real life shapes writing. It would be strange if it didn’t. But not every post is a confession, and not every thought comes from being butthurt, as you put it.

When you don’t know who you are anymore, it usually means you’ve been carrying pain for too long without rest. Hurt can do that. Especially when someone reached your heart deeply enough to shake the way you see yourself.

The fact that you can’t feel love for yourself right now does not mean you are unlovable. Pain distorts perception. It makes good things feel undeserved. That’s the wound talking, not the truth.

And when things get this heavy, don’t isolate yourself completely inside your own head. If there are people around you who genuinely care, who are steady, calm, safe, let them stand near you. You do not have to perform strength every second just because you’re struggling.

You don’t find solace all at once. Usually it returns quietly. Through small moments. A conversation. A routine. Someone reminding you to eat. Someone staying instead of leaving when you’re difficult to carry.

Right now, don’t focus on “finding yourself” again. That’s too big. Focus on staying connected to what still feels real and good for you. The people who bring you peace instead of confusion. The ones who make you feel steadier, not smaller.