Hi there!
This is an 18+ blog. Amongst other things, it’s to vent my sexual fantasies, thoughts, and feelings.
My DMs are open, however messages do pile up quite fast, I will likely not reply unless your message stood out to me. The fastest way to get a reply is through my asks/inbox
This blog does contain hard/darker kinks, if that is not for you/ you are not interested in that, please leave and/or block me. Everything in your sexual life should be safe, consensual, and with someone you trust🖤
[All my posts/pictures are tagged ‘mine’ or ‘my pics’+ other tags below ⬇️’]
About me
21 F (she/her)
Not looking for an online sub or a 24/7 dynamic
Pansexual
5’0 | curvyish?
Switch/ though this blog will lean more into the dominant role
Soft domme most of the time
Outside of kink I like reading, drawing, art history, movies, comic books, astronomy(science generally), and philosophy
Kinks (mainly are but are not limited to), since I am a switch most of these go both ways
!Edging/orgasm denial!
Chastity
Light feminization
Md/lb (not incest though)/ mistress/slave
CNC [+CNC adjacent kinks]
Limits
ABDL
Cuckholding
Blood
Needles
Scat
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Zuko x BodyGuard! Reader
Where reader explains why they have a scar over their heart to the gaang, and what it means to the fire nation.
The fire nation has a tradition. Each royal member has an option to have a body guard, which they are appointed to at the age of seven.
When they have chosen their body guard, the body guard must go through a series of challenges to prove their loyalty to their master.
The last being a brand, made by their master's firebending.
A scar made by their master meant life long commitment, meant unwavering loyalty to the royal member. They must do whatever they say, with no hesitation.
"Wow..." Katara whispers, "that's bittersweet."
You continue.
If the body guard, at any point in their life, requests to be relieved of their duties, they must cut their limb off where their scar lies. Only then can they sever their loyalty.
The gaang looked at each other, "but the scar is over your heart!" Sokka shouts.
Zuko turns his head away, "Because I missed," he says lowly, too embarrassed to look them in the eyes.
The group looks at him in disbelief, and chuckles, "you? A great fire bender? Missing?" Aang smiles. As much as Zuko was a great teacher, Aang couldn't imagine Zuko ever missing a stagnant target.
"I was seven! I was aiming for their arm and I just missed, okay?!"
The group laughs harder, and turn to you. You, who have been tenderly rubbing your scar over your heart, remembering how painful it was to look at seven-year-old Zuko worry for your well-being after his brand.
"Y/N?"
You give a soft smile, "Though this spot is a little inconvenient," you rise, walking over to Zuko. Standing in front of him, you get on one knee, and bow your head and shoulders deeply, "I wouldn't have it any other way. My loyalty, my purpose, and my life is yours, My Prince."
There is a short pause. Zuko, though you've bowed to him plenty of times, thought this one in particular felt more sincere - intimate even. The past few weeks with the gaang, you've allowed yourself to open up more. And he, even though he rightfully knew, saw your more defined personality.
As he worked through his anger, as his days being back at the palace felt more lonely, as his kisses with Mai felt forced, as his yearn for his uncle's forgiveness increased day by day...
You stood beside him through it all, without questioning his thoughts. Your patience for him was unstaggering.
And you continue to demonstrate it now, in front of the very people that distrust him.
His slouch straightened. Zuko clears his throat lightly, "Y/N, raise your head."
You raise your head, wondering what he might do.
He stands up, places one of his fists on the bottom of the other's palm, and bows his head, "I am grateful to have you beside me. Thank you for everything you've done up until now, and everything you will do in the future. I swear to you, I will become a master you will be proud of."
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I don’t think you understand how diabolically down bad I am for Julius.
I’m making him my famous cookies and be all “Juli~ I made cookies~”
But in all seriousness one of my fav tropes of all types is a cruel ruler but is the sweetest to his darling. Love to see it!
Julius will absolutely accept your cookies, in fact, he will want you to hand feed it to him yourself. Any kind of affection, whether it’s acts of service or physical makes him a very happy king—and if you can keep him happy, then maybe there will be less deaths that day. He will not make promises though, he can’t keep them…
“That idiot was practically eye fucking you right before me. Of course, I had to put his head up on a spike to set an example. You. Are. Mine.”
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aegon favors lucerys over his own siblings and jacaerys. may it be because lucerys is actually almost a decade younger than him and aegon can treat him like a toy, as if the younger boy is nothing but a plaything for whenever he isn’t busy nursing cups of chasing skirts. whatever it might be, aegon always has little magic tricks prepared to sweep little lucerys’ mind off, and he would be the first (if not the only one) to be greeted when they all meet for training.
helaena favors him, too. lucerys is a force to be reckoned with, with energy similar to the one of a storm. still, he’s the most patient with helaena, surprisingly. not only that, but he also understands her, truly understands her. he’s the only one who can keep up with helaena’s inscrutable words, and he would never oppose his sweet aunt when she asks for a dance (or the idea she has of one), or when she needs help hunting for certain species of insects until the sun sets in the horizon.
of course jacaerys does, too. lucerys is his little brother, the first to be born after him. the kind of bond they share is yet to be matched by any set of members amongst their family. lucerys is jacaerys’ partner in crime, his other half, the heart of his thoughts and the brains behind his feelings. he would die for lucerys, and he would do it without hesitation.
even daeron seems to seek lucerys more than he seeks the rest of them, for the letters that he sends to the second son of rhaenyra are always heftier in number and length than the ones he sends to his siblings. to his own mother.
and then, there’s aemond. he doesn’t say it (he doesn’t need to, much to his own chagrin), but it’s clear as the summer skies that he prefers lucerys too. he basks in lucerys’ admiration and needs his attention like a sunflower yearns for the sun to feed it. he always answers any and all questions that lucerys’ inquisitive mind might come up with, and if he works harder both in the training yard and with the maesters looking for that very specific impressed look in lucerys’ eyes, well, that’s his business and his alone.
and when lucerys follows aemond around, desperately asking for his love and his time (blessedly unaware of how much aemond would actually give him), they all start speaking. soft mumbling here and there between servants that think are being subtle enough, and obvious jesting from the family members who don’t need to be coy.
“aemond is lucerys’ favorite”
lucerys doesn’t care about no magic trick if aemond is there to talk about a new fable he learned in his lessons that day. lucerys doesn’t have time to chase bugs and dance in the sunlight if aemond says he’s going to help him with his sword training. and he has no time to admire jacaerys when aemond bests them all, even with the lack of a dragon, with such an ease (well practised, but lucerys doesn’t need to know that) that leaves little lucerys breathless.
for they are all right, and the satisfaction of the matter settles in aemond’s guts like a warm blanket. for he is, indeed, lucerys’ favorite. he’s the favorite’s favorite, and nobody can take that from him.
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Hajime is home
Iwaizumi's lying on the three-seater sofa, legs up and Takeru's little body on the soles of his feets, laughing and holding tightly to Iwaizumi's safe hands as he swings his little legs and shouts with laughter "I'm an aeroplane, uncle Iwa! I'm flying high and high!"
And Tooru, on the floor, leaning against the one-seater sofa, his legs tucked in and his head resting on his arms crossed over his knees, smiles lovingly. His ears are delighted by the mixture of his nephew's laughter and Hajime's laughter.
He loves how Iwa-chan has always been part of his family, how they have grown up sharing two fathers, two mothers and an older sister. He loves how, in fact, Iwa-chan is family, how he relates his name to that, to home, to warmth, to protection.
To salvation.
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