#they're something ill never understand

[samhasnocontrol]

Even more!!! God, I love them sm but also idk how to draw em more.

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[florida3exclamationpoints]

[thebluebygracieabrams]

so tired of being a shitty bandaid for my parents' loneliness. like have u ever considered you passed your curse to me and some days i feel so lonely it's like i can't breathe around the emptiness in my chest????

[hylianengineer]

After two weeks of having almost nothing to do at work except read scientific papers, I think I've finally gotten over being scared of them. Actually, I think I'm starting to have fun.

And then I was doing writing research on a totally different topic and I went wait a second. I can read scientific papers on this. I'm not intimidated by them anymore - well, not much. Maybe a tiny bit, for the ones outside my field, because last week I tried to read a botany paper and oh dear god the jargon.

But I read a medical journal about chronic widespread pain, which I probably have, and it felt very empowering. I understood most of the important bits, googled the vocab when I needed to, and I learned some things that might be important. I read a paper where actual doctors were saying 'people can have mental illnesses and also pain disorders. this does not mean their pain isn't real.'

And it feels very revolutionary that I can just... do that. I can have access to the same information as experts in these fields, and I may not understand it as well or have all the context but it's something. Something I didn't have before.

[airxiem]

I feel like messaging anyone about election considerations with the amendment to like limit government in abortion stuff is like me panhandling for money as a main source of income. Like, please sir. Please think of the girls in the orphanage and us peasants with this in real life. I have to ask nice men to be humans. Thanks for not being a weirdo that could ruin my life by having no self control. Thank you nice man, please spread this thought if you can, thank you" and just shrivel back to the curb and put up the sign again "non threatening request to ask question regarding the amendment, no surprises though . because men are assholes" and boy anyone doing this would have to be prepared and know at least one or two homeless people nearby. More than that, you're covered. Looking at you crazy? Shout one time like a dinosaur and you got a mf mad he cant get drugs in your corner. But I feel like that's me. "Please remember our uterus and stuff. We can go to the place just barely right now, we don't sleep too drunk at all, none of that. We pray for who does, and God bless the teachers who are supposed to avoid the topic in med school who do it regardless. If that's a real thing, idk where I heard that but I'm not gonna look stupid if it's not true. Idk it's hard out here and I'm scared lol.

I mean I don't know how far I could fight it as a white lady, I mean it might get me to a place or something. Idk. If not, I would be a violently active person online somewhere.

(relevant, fight me.)

[snekdood]

welp, at this point if anyone in the crowd of Bad Faith People Who Stalk Me And Hate Me Bc Of Someone Else's Compulsive Lying tries to accuse me of antisemitism bc i have a vampire whos a villain in my comic, i'm gonna ask them what their take was on allll of this going on. if its anything like "israelis and/or zionists are all evil people" then ik i never have to take their opinion seriously bc they dont even know what antisemitism means.

[samhasnocontrol]

Even more!?1?1?11?

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[deosilplanarglitches]

Reason #345734 why I don't tell my mom shit.

Her pain and suffering is the only kind she cares about, and she'll play stupid games with me like ghost me for 3+ weeks after a minor surgery, just to make sure I'm worried enough about her life to check, so she "has permission" to start in with the talking my ear off about her problems without boundaries or preamble. She won't know shit about my issues til after they're over (if she hears about them at all) bc she never asks a damn thing about my life, and literally only ever leaves room for herself and her feelings in any equation literally ever and then peaces tf out like. Bitch I'm permanently disabled and in a degenerative spiral that's gonna last my whole fkn life, and you're still bitching about yourself? Wanting me to cater to your emotions when you haven't even spared a CRUMB of consideration in return?

FUck all the way off.

Should have known that if she had died or sth bad happened, I'd have heard something right away. After 30+ yrs of her pulling the "yeah my kid tried to kill themself for the 7th time, but have you asked ME how hard it is to raise them doing the nothing I have been, bc I still don't know them as a person at all or even try to? Where's the compassion?!" shit... you'd think I would know better, but my compassion gets me fucked over YET AGAIN.

If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty. If she's being flighty, she's being petty.

Back to no contact.

Let the bitch suffocate if she can't self soothe.

[rawme-price]

So...healer!reader pt 5, shes already healed the guys individually, where will they go from here?🤭

It becomes a bit of a routine. The guys try not to ask for ur healing too often, they value u as a genuine member of the team and would hate for u to think ur just here for that. But, you do notice they all perform much better after you heal them. Plus, it kind of gets on ur nerves when they try to 'tough out' some of the minor pain, bc u can feel it radiating from them and now that you have healed them before there's really no reason for u to be shy about it again.

So, you make sure to heal them all at least once a week, sometimes more if they actually are hurt. Ghost goes all soft and pliant, simply enjoying the fact his chronic pain is gone for a bit. Price tends to take the time to smoke, hes learned that ur healing with smoke in his lungs feels devine. Soap doesnt have much constant pain besides mild tinnitus, so he and gaz tend to work out like hell beforehand bc it feels alot better when the magic has something to focus on.

But you never seem to ask anything in return. Its frustrating. Especially considering soap has explicitly offered you to bed and all you've done is turn him down with a small smile. Needless to say, the guys are concerned. Gaz calls a team meeting between the four of them, a furrow in his brow.

"Do you think we're taking advantage?"

Its a long and serious discussion. Price thinks they are, they all have some sort of power dynamic over you (some more than others). Ghost doesnt think so, hes seen you punch a guy's lights out for looking at you the wrong way, if you didnt want to do something then you wouldnt. Soap seems mixed, he trusts your decisions, but he doesnt want to have accidentally coerced you into anything. The discussion gets them nowhere, so finally gaz calls you in.

U give them a confused look, but seem overall relaxed. "Uh- everything okay?"

Price doesnt mince words, "if you dont want to heal us. You dont have to. If you dont feel comfortable working in this team, give me the paperwork and ill approve it, no questions asked."

"What?" Youre honestly baffled, looking between them like they're crazy. "What on earth makes you think i dont want to heal you?? If I didnt then I wouldnt??"

So they explain they're reasoning, finally leading to the last point of u never seeking out ur own satisfaction. They don't want to make u heal them if u dont get some sort of satisfaction in return, it feels predatory or whatever.

You cant help it, you laugh. A bit from nerves but also from relief bc you thought you were being kicked out. "Oh my god- thats it?" You try to cover ur grin with a hand.

"the hell do you mean thats it?!" Soap retorts, a bit put off by ur sudden mirth "this is serious!"

"God! No- its- you dont understand-" you take a few deep breaths before calming down. Looking them in the eyes you shrug "im asexual. I uh- dont feel sexual desire. Like. At all."

Before they can freak out, you strike down whatever fears u know they're thinking "whatever sexual moments did occur were totally my choice. I may not get satisfaction like you guys do, but I like to see you guys happy, I like to help. Besides, all this healing has given me alot of practice with my magic, I really dont want to stop."

You and them have another, quite long discussion, and decide to keep up the arrangement. You get to practice magic, and they get to have the best damn orgasms of their lives. In fact, this probably means you can heal them more often now that you have permission to really experiment with ur methods.

(HA YALL THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A FIVESOME HUH??? WRONG!! anyways happy pride to all my fellow asexuals!! Also dw guys this is NOT the end of the series lol)

[blakellyl]

About Sentry, Void and what they're really like

Sentry, Void and Bob are all the same, they have the same traumas, fears, self-doubts and insecurities, because they are one person. The only difference is that Sentry has powers (he is Bob’s mania; mania – feeling that you can do anything; this feeling + serum = Sentry, who bc of the serum actually can do anything. That’s the only thing he’s confident in – his invincibility, his superpowers, that will allow him to do whatever he wants, because that’s what he is, but that’s it (!), because he’s still Bob). And then there is Void, who’s about absolute loneliness and hopelessness.

Some may be confused by the way they talk about each other, as if they’re separate personalities (for example, Bob calling Void "it", Sentry saying to Val "it's not Robert you need to be afraid of" and when John calls him Bobby, corrects him by saying "you can call me Sentry", Bob not remembering anything (at first) after Sentry or Void take over, or how Void was talking to Bob at the end), SO I’m adding what i wrote in other posts here:

THEY separate themselves from each other, of course they do, they are not his normal self, they are his mental disorder.

A bit more about it:

Bob has mental illnesses inherited from his mother and his own (as a result of a terrible life). The main one is bipolar, almost certainly passed down from his mom.

After he was injected with the serum it was like his bipolar was pumped with the strongest steroids and now his mental illness exists beyond human levels, as Sentry and Void (Mel talked about this, that give a serum to someone like Bob and who knows what will happen. Well now we know).

Moving on to the next one:

the key moment that a lot of people don’t seem to understand: they have never known love or care, never had a single person who was even a little worried about them or genuinely cared for them. They have zero confidence that anyone will ever need them, even more than that, they are sure of the opposite. They are very traumatized, all of them, they suffer exactly the same, because they are one.

I didn't think it was necessary to write about it because it's literally shown in every scene, but I'm shocked at how many people didn't get it at all, so.

With Bob himself, I think it's all clear to everyone, thankfully.

About Void:

He repeats throughout the movie that they (Bob/Sentry/Void) will always be alone, he says this to both Bob and Yelena (even though she hugs Bob at this moment, and yet)

He also says "you think they care about you? you don’t matter to anyone" and "the most shameful thing of all is thinking you could be anything more than nothing".

For him, there is no hope. He doesn't believe anyone will ever stay with them because all their life no one ever did, everyone always left/betrayed/hurt them. He also doesn’t believe that they’ll ever be worth anything at all, that they’ll be anything at all to anyone. The way he keeps confidently repeating that they will always be alone shows that he has given up hope that someone will ever truly love them (and that’s how he’s supposed to be, he’s Bob’s darkest thoughts and fears). He's not a mystical tough guy as a lot of people love to portray. He's a severe depression (literally), an absolute hopeless loneliness (and it’s obvious, it’s all in his name).

About Sentry:

(and all the times we're shown that it's literally just Bob with powers)

1) Desire to be praised and loved

The first person who says a kind word to him, tells him that he is worth something, he immediately follows that person and does whatever he is told, even though he is not sure that he wants to. He does it to please, to be useful, finally believing in himself because of her and wanting to prove her right.

2) Kindness

Him being kind to those who he'd known for a couple days at most, and not even through his “own eyes”.

He listens to Valentina, even when she says she plans to use him so she won't be impeached. He's okay with that. Until she gives him the order to kill the bolts. He doesn't want to do that, even though this is the first time he's interacted with them himself, only having seen them through “Bob's eyes”. He doesn't want to hurt them, and he tells them that. He offers them to surrender and he offers it sincerely, smiling awkwardly and shrugging his shoulders, nodding a little at the thought that it's a good suggestion:

He doesn't even attack them; it's Alexei who jumps on him first, screaming.

And even when they come at him with knives and bullets, he just pushes John, Yelena and Ava away most of the time (he doesn't know Bucky and Alexei, so it's different with them).

All of that screams in everyone’s faces that he's not "I'm going to kill everyone, I'm so badass" (like some people hilariously think) but that he won’t really hurt anyone who isn't a threat to him (even if they kinda tried to hurt him, but he knows their intentions, so he’s not upset with them). He calmly and kindly asked them to surrender, again because he's trying to please Valentina, but also because he didn’t want to fight them (just because Bob knew them for a day and they helped him).

3) Insecurity

As soon as the guys don't even ridicule him, but just ask him what's wrong with his hair and the way he looks, he can't leave this topic alone, he gets all worked up, saying he doesn't like it, even though Valentina tells him to leave it alone and not to let other people's words affect him. 

It shows that his giant ego is only related to his great strength, but he has no self-confidence in anything else.

4) The realization that yet another person is trying to tell him how to live and what to do:

To her "you need to do what i say" he simply asks why. 

He thought they were going to act as a team, but it turns out they want to put a leash on him, and he won't let that happen. He's part of Bob, and Bob has lived his whole life under someone else's commands and orders. 

Sentry is also honestly tells her that she doesn't know what he's capable of, and he's right, she doesn't. 

That’s the only thing he’s so sure of, his strength. (again, ironically, because of her).

5) People betraying and hurting Bob (+Sentry/Void) all his life

This scene breaks my heart every fucking time. 

When she reaches for the button to kill him. 

Kill him because she doesn't care, like all the others before her. 

Look at his face when he realized what she wanted to do.

And his words after, "You were gonna turn on me, just like the rest of them" 

And that says EVERYTHING about Sentry (and Bob, and Void). About all of them and their severe trauma.

They want at least one person in their life who won't betray them or try to hurt them.

Sentry started listening to Valentina when she, again, only said a few kind words to him. He obediently did what she told him to do, even though he didn't want to, all so that someone would stand by him and tell him he was worth something. 

And it ended just like so many times before in Bob’s life – no one cared about him as a person and about what he wanted.

All of Bob, all sides of him, want someone for the first time in their life to be there for them, support them and see their worth.

And the further it goes, the worse it gets:

Bob is hopeful, even though there’s so much pain and sadness in him. 

Sentry is hopeful too, but there's an aggression in him when faced with attempts to trick him, to manipulate him again. 

and Void – no hope at all.

And lastly, I'll add:

when Sentry becomes close to the bolts just as Bob is (as his normal self, not in his mania state), he will be ready to kill anyone for them and to die himself (which thankfully is almost impossible).

Everyone’s screaming that Bob is a sweetheart, but so is Sentry (and so is Void). And that’s a fact, that’s one human being.

They all want to be loved and understood and to matter to someone.

again quoting Florence Pugh

Bob – cute and sad

Sentry – trying and traumatized

and I’ll add from myself

Void – beyond depressed and hopeless

and I love all of them, all of Bob, very very much

[screamlet]

♞: Caring for each other while ill

thank you for the prompt! have another 1.2k of fluff, this time set during the summer between s7/s8 when bucktommy was new and anything we wanted it to be, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

On a really good, horny day, Buck might be strong enough to haul Tommy off his living room floor and drop him on the couch. That's not one of those days, though: Buck is sick, Tommy is sick, and they might be better off dying together in each other's arms on the floor of the loft.

"I should just go home."

"Tommy, you fainted when you tried to put on a sock."

They're lying side-by-side on the floor of the loft; Tommy did try to put on a sock and faint, but Buck caught him before he shattered his skull on the floor. Once he had saved Tommy's life, he felt vertigo kick in and slowly lowered himself to the floor, too, where he and Tommy could lie together for the last 10-15 minutes of their lives.

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

Tommy flashes him a grin that makes Buck an even weaker puddle on the floor. Good thing he doesn't have to get up yet so he can lie here, watching Tommy order them Gatorade and popsicles and cold medicine, and try not to fall in love with him.

[imgae-insertshockedgasps-16]

humans are space orcs

imagine someone with chronic joint pain, whose dream their whole lives has been to go to space and meet the aliens and be a scientist and learn

so they look up the requirements as a kid and go "fuck."

they wouldn't make the cut.

their dreams are dashed. hopes ruined. lifelong dre destroyed.

except....

they've never really said a whole lot about their pain. they don't particularly like doctors, and they think that they've been managing just fine, so they never saw the point.

so maybe... maybe if they just don't say anything, they can make it to space.

they spend all of their time training. doing physical therapy exercises so that their joints aren't so loose, soaking up as much scientific and mathematical knowledge as they can, teaching themselves to push through the worst of it in pursuit of their dream.

and they make it.

they make it to space! it was gruelling, tortuous work, but they made it!

their first mission is an exploratory one, with a diverse crew which only has one other human.

they're thrilled.

they have dozens of alien friends and acquaintances. they spend hours learning and researching alien planets and cultures. it's everything they've ever wanted!

but

it's exhausting.

they're in more pain than they've ever been, more frequently than they ever have.

they keep up their exercises as best they can, but even those are often too much.

they smile when asked if they're alright, tell everyone that "i'm fine! just tired."

but they need a break. they can't imagine going or being sent back to earth, this is their home now, with these people, on this ship. but they don't know how much longer they can take this.

one day, on their day off, a fellow researcher comes and knocks on their door.

"are you here?"

"not today islith."

"but we've been called! there are some exciting new discoveries that need further cataloging and investigation, and carlmoth thought you would enjoy the task!"

"i can't today, islith."

"are you ill?"

"...kind of? but i'll be right as rain tomorrow. it's my day off anyhow."

"nonsense! you should go down to medbay!"

"i'm alright, i promise."

"you get out here right this minute or i'll report you to medbay myself!"

"no!" there's a series of crashes and thumps, and then they open the door.

"oh, you look awful. come on, you really must need medbay, what if you're contagious." islith tries to grab them but they shy away.

"i'm not contagious, i promise."

"how can you possibly know that? what if you picked it up from a sample, or, or, garfon has been sick recently! humans can't survive cerian sicknesses-"

"i didn't catch something from garfon, islith," they sigh and open the door wider. "come in and let me explain."

"alright, but if i think you should go to medbay afterwards then i'm taking you there."

"sure, islith."

islith enters, notices the piles of clothes, rumpled bedsheets, the lights are off and the port window shut.

"what's wrong?"

they sigh again, "my body doesn't work like it's meant to, islith."

islith is wildly alarmed, "and you said there was no need for medbay?!? come with me right now and-"

"no! i can't, islith, you don't understand."

"then explain it to me."

"i've... always been this way, although it's gotten worse as i've gotten older. my body, it just isn't built quite right, there's something wrong with it that makes it not work properly and hurt often."

"you're right, i don't understand. why can't you go to medbay?"

"i'd... be thrown off the ship."

"what?!?"

and so they tell islith a story about a young child whose dream was to touch the stars.

"and now, it's too late. i'd get in huge trouble for lying to the government, especially for so long."

"well- but- but humans are so resilient! you hear all the stories!"

"not every human is the same, islith. some of us are born disabled, and some of us get hurt in accidents, just like any other species."

"well, then, well there must be something we can do?"

they look up in shock, "we?"

"of course we, you ridiculous creature," islith said with a fond sigh. "you didn't think i'd leave you to suffer, would you?"

"but, you could get in so much trouble!"

"that's alright, i don't mind. what else are friends for? and, anyway, we don't have to tell your government, we can tell mine."

"but i'll-"

"we don't have any rules like that. any of us who are disabled can still manage in space just fine with the right support, and i bet you could too."

"i- islith- i don't-"

"don't worry, we'll all back you when it comes down to it. you're out teammate, our family. no one on this ship wants to watch you leave because of something you can't control. now come on, let's talk to glidlep in medical, she'll understand."

and for years, things continued on that way, until eventually it was an open secret that the human with the exosuit was disabled and not technically allowed onboard.

and down the line, when nasa found out and was furious, the entire ship and more stood by their side.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Hello!! Can I request dating hcs of Rex x hypersexual!reader? With him helping them heal from their trauma and fear (and longing) of intimacy and being touched? Thank you, i love the way you write fics 🫶🫶

Thanks baby😘

This is based on my own experience with hypersexuality and the topics you described

Rex Sloan X Hypersexual!Gn!Reader

I think Rex is also hypersexual, or at least has some tendencies, so he'd understand a lot. I also think he would learn more about himself while trying to help you

He knows how sometimes your mind is buzzing with bad thoughts and stress, and the only thing that seems to calm it is by thinking about sex, especially when you're trying to sleep and just can't 

He knows sometimes sex feels like the solution to all problems

And that hipersexuality is a problem because it’s prejudicial to your life, in the sense that maybe you're trying to focus on something else, like studying, working, or a hobby, but your mind just. Won't. Stop. 

Sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex sex

But he's still learning to think before talking, and he just came to terms with the fact that he's actually very empathic 

So he might ask how you feel and what you're thinking from time to time, and what do you think that made you be hypersexual 

He doesn't want you to commit the same mistakes he did, so he makes sure your sexual dynamic with each other is very healthy, obnoxiously healthy, to the point that it's even funny how he’ll just stop in the middle of it to ask “do you want it or do you enthusiastically want it?” with the most serious expression, one it's even weird to see on him, because he's just so goofy

Because if the bar is high enough, you never will accept anything less, just like people with healthy families usually don't accept other people treating them like shit 

He's scared shitless that he’ll accidentally or indirectly hurt you, either because he didn't make sure how you felt, or because you were too good at pretending

He's ruined so many good things before, he doesn't want to do it anymore 

You might have intrusive thoughts, like really, intrusive thoughts. Not the ones most people are used to like “what if I threw my phone out of the window?”, but the real ones. If you have it you know what I’m talking about. 

I’m not sure he has them, because if you have them, you probably hide them, but he surprises you when he takes it seriously, not just thinking you're a freak, or a creep, or a weirdo. He understands right away they're not something you want, you don't condone those actions, you think they're the worst thing the could happen, and yet, your mind is so broken that it throws those thoughts at you, trying to make you hate yourself, and it might even work, and Rex makes sure you know it's not your fault, it's just a mental illness, there's nothing wrong with you, it's common, just talk to him baby, talking will make you feel better

He also becomes clingy, even performing PDA if you're into that. Just because your mind is thinking about all the different sexual scenarios you could do, doesn't mean you want sex, half the time you just want to be held, kissed and feel important. Just receive some attention and love. And he’ll enjoy doing that

Especially in the beginning of your relationship, he understands you might be confused on how to proceed, overthinking, and you might even try to distance yourself from him

Jokes on you, he's not gonna let that happen

I mean, see how his relationship with Rae started on the 3rd season, bro really worked for her

If he didn't like you as much, he would give up, honestly. Rex from the 1st and 2nd season would just offer himself to be your booty call

If you're touch starved, he understands that maybe you feel insecure about that, that the simple act of holding hands and rubbing your thumb on someone’s skin just isn’t second nature to you, isn't your first instinct, when you do it, you're actively thinking about it, afraid to move and disturb the peace, or make him stop touching you

Like one of those videos of abused animals who freak out at the simple mention of someone getting close to them, and when someone does, they need several minutes to get used to it 

He won't judge you for maybe being somewhat socially awkward on that aspect, he actually likes that you aren't used to just throwing yourself at anyone who gives you crumbs of attention, and ruining yourself in the process, almost like he did. It's not worth it, it's humiliating, it changes you so much that you can't recognize yourself in the end

It takes some time, but you get used to having him clinging to you at all and random moments of the day

He wants your first time together to be especial, and when you truly want it, so he doesn't even takes the first step, you have to do it 

I see you just sleeping in the same bed, fully clothed, every night, for several weeks (even months, if that's your thing), before actually having sex

Doesn't mean he won't make out with you, when you're comfortable with that. And he tries not to be the old him that would just grab your ass right away, instead, Rex learns that he likes to just… Explore 

He squeezes your waist, he touches your hair, your scalp, he breathes your scent. He rounds his arms around you and just has nice, quiet conversations. He lays his head on your chest, stomach and lap, closes his eyes, and his mind is suddenly empty, while you take initiative and run your fingers through his ginger locks. He holds your hand when he takes you out

He spoils you, he was never the type of guy to do that, he liked being spoiled instead

Now, he just thinks he needed to meet the right person

He cooks, it's not good, but he's trying to impress and make you happy

He learns your hobbies, and spends quality time with you. You have to know he's not with you just for sex, just for your body, your mind is just as sexy to him babygurl~ (in a gn way)

He shows you his home magazines and you talk about your future home together, despite how surreal it feels, how impossible it seems, how scary, not only to you, but also him. But he wants this. He finally has something good. A purpose in life

And even if you express some negative thought, he’s surprisingly good at comforting and reassuring, on his own unserious and abrasive way

Suddenly, your mind is a lot more peaceful

General masterlist

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[puzzled-pegasus]

Here's some silly little metaphors that I think the dragon tribes would use

SkyWings

“Don’t count your clutch before they hatch.” (Don't plan too much too soon)

“Gold is better than silver, but silver is better than nothing.” (If you can't do it perfectly, still try your best. Most dragons forget the second part.)

“‘Sorry’ can't suck the fire back in.” (The damage is done and now you're dead to me.)

“You been eating too much burnt meat or something?” (Are you nuts?)

“Stop all this smoke and use your fire.” (Stop rambling and get to the point already; or stop complaining and do something)

“Doesn't know his tail from his wings.” (Stupid or clumsy)

“You fly like a depressed pigeon.” (Slow flier)

“There's no fire in a rainstorm.” (Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get to work.)

“Nighttime is for the NightWings.” (What are you doing up? Go to sleep.)

SandWings

“She’s all rattle, and no strike.” (Like all bark no bite)

“A diamond in a pile of quartz.” (Like a needle in a haystack)

“You’re watering the cactus and ignoring the sapling.” (You’re focusing on the wrong thing; barking up the wrong tree)

“Everyone thinks the camel looks silly until the dry season comes.” (Don't listen to them, they don't know how unique and strong you are)

MudWings

“Crocodile tears.” (Fake crying in order to gain sympathy)

“You can only catch a trout if your mouth is open.” (Be open to new experiences)

“If the tree gives away too much, it ends up as a stump.” (Don't let people take advantage of your generosity)

SeaWings

“Happy as a clam in high water.” (Very happy)

“The flying fish feels like a fool when it sees an osprey.” (Don't compare yourself to others, run your own race.)

“Plenty of fish in the sea.” (Plenty more opportunities to come.)

“You’ve got ink in your eyes.” (You're blind to something important)

“Lobsters only die when they don't leave their shell.” (Keep yourself busy with new experiences and you'll life a long life)

NightWings

“Sleep is for the dead.” (Why waste your time sleeping when you could be productive)

“SeaWings know their fish and SandWings know their cactuses, but we NightWings know everything else.”(NightWing supremacy propaganda)

“Being nice to a deer never got one in my mouth.” (Other dragons don't matter, only your goals.)

“A prophecy always comes true.” (I told you so but more cryptic)

"You're counting the stars." (You're doing something tedious towards an unachievable goal)

RainWings

“Gray’s her favorite color.” (She's a huge bummer)

“A lemon is yellow on the outside, doesn't mean they're not sour.” (Referring to someone who is two faced or fake)

“I love honey, but I’d rather not get stung by the bees.” (I could do this, but it requires effort so I don't wanna)

“Nobody likes a rotten banana.” (Nobody likes a bummer/downer)

“Don't tie your tail in a knot” (don't get all upset)

“I have all my berries in a basket” (I have everything sorted out)

“You couldn't sneak up on a pineapple” (insult to one's camouflage skills, popular among children)

IceWings

“The seal who asks why the orca is chasing him is the first to get eaten.” (A favorite of parents telling their kids to shut up)

“Not the sharpest icicle on the roof” (kinda stupid or slow)

“Clear as polished ice” (i understand or see it very well)

“You're looking a little pink in the face” (you look sickly. IceWings can turn pink from eating too much krill; a symptom of malnutrition. This line can be applied to any illness.)

“Blue blood kills, red blood spills.” (Patriotic propaganda implying that IceWings win every fight

“The SkyWings toss their blue eyed hatchlings because they're worried they'll be as strong as an IceWing.” (More propaganda)

HiveWings

“Pretty is for the SilkWings.” (Vanity is stupid and impractical)

“If it buzzes like a bug and bites like a bug, it's a bug.” (Don't ignore the obvious)

“Clearsight works in mysterious ways.” (I don't know the answer to your question, now go away)

SilkWings

“It's not always good to know how the honey gets made.” (Don't stick your snout where it doesn't belong)

“She's got a couple of threads loose.” (Calling someone a little crazy, threads refers to weaving)

“The bee minds its flowers and the spider minds her silk, it's when they mix that bad things happen.” (Mind ya business)

LeafWings

“Flytraps only trap because the soil doesn't feed them.” (Dragons don't get angry out of nowhere)

“Looking like a leaf only hides you in the forest.” (Time and place)

“If a branch doesn't bend, it breaks.” (Be flexible)

“Even the corpse flower attracts the flies.” (Even someone who seems ugly to one dragon they can seem irresistible to another)

[canisalbus]

Sobbing over Machete, who can only be seen smiling in one part of the growing up compilation, as a wee little lad.

Sobbing over the face that he was a toddler in that part, a child who had yet to be separated from his family or know the abuse of his "teacher," who only knew the joys of cute snails and holding his favorite pet chicken.

It seems like all of his issues were compounded after his family left him :(

It is what it is. Considering the cards he was dealt, he managed to play his hand pretty well, I think. I've been mulling over this a bit lately, and I'd go as far as to say that in the eyes of his contemporaries, his childhood probably wouldn't even have been unusually unhappy or unfortunate. By most metrics he was a wildly successful individual.

Historically speaking, child abandonment has been more widespread than a modern day person might initially think.

(source)

I'd also like to believe that his parents meant well and the decision to give him up wasn't an easy one. They were going through an impossibly tight squeeze of financial and emotional hardship, and Machete, the youngest child, was constantly sick with mystery illnesses they didn't know how to deal with (anemia + weakened immunity system being the main cause for most of them). Rather than having the entire family suffer and starve, they arranged to have him be left at a monastery, hoping to give him a fighting chance to survive.

If there's a silver lining to it, it was a immense stroke of luck he ended up somewhere where he was looked after (monks were known to have better understanding and access to medicine than commoners). Moreover, he was also taught to read, a rare and priced skill at the time, which ultimately enabled him to claw his way into the upper echelons of the society. Not only did he survive, he prevailed against all odds.

Machete himself probably has mixed feelings about his childhood. He doesn't like to think about it, and (like most people) doesn't realize or admit the extent it affected him. His parents only exist on some conceptual, untouchable level to him, and I don't think he has any desire to try to find out who they were and if they're still alive. He might harbor some repressed, aimless and faceless resentment for them for deciding to wash their hands of him for a reason for another. Maybe it's the root of his inferiority complex and persistent sense of inadequacy, knowing there must've been something wrong with him for that to happen. But then again, it's hard to truly miss something or someone you don't have a personal connection to, or any memories about. In the end, he wasn't worth their time then and they're not worth his time now.

He can recall some of his time in the monastery and it was mostly a pleasantly uneventful existence, filled with strict but soothing routines and a sense of community. His mentor (father-figure, whether he likes it or not) was a cold and brutish man who disciplined him harshly. His relationship with him is tense and inflamed, but he realizes he wouldn't have gotten as far as he did without his tutelage, connections and patronage. If he hadn't sponsored his studies in Venice, he would've never crossed paths with Vasco either.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 23

Part 1 [...] 20 21 22 23 24

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, smut (rough/angry sex to yummy love making, soft dom!dae, oral m&f receiving, spitting, dacryphilia, praise & degradation, piv), emotional constipation, pregnancy, miscarriage, panic/anxiety attacks, suicidal ideation, attempted suicide, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: I just realized Otto was replaced by lyonel strong as hand at some point and... Yeah I don't remember why so I can't be bothered to write that in. Also I invented a Tyrell character ok? This is probably going to be my last smut piece for this, so it's LONG so long that I HAD TO CUT THIS PART UP 😭🤬😅 it's fine derailed plans slay 3 parts left ig 😭 | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching

Viserys sits at the head of his council table, staring at his gloved hands. Lord Lyonel Strong drones about something, something about crops and drought and famine and public unrest, something about how crimes have spiked.

"Just last night, the Gold Cloaks reported to have apprehended 3 men who've broken in and stolen a great amount of flour and meat from three different establishments."

"Three criminals," Otto corrects, nonchalant.

Lyonel turns to him, but the Hand does not even spare him a glance. He clenches his jaw, "men, Lord Hand," he corrects, "who'vee been forced to resort to theft to feed their families."

Otto, who was checking his nails in uninterest, finally looks up. His face is blank, "criminality is criminality and should be met with justice."

Viserys takes one last look at his hand, wondering if what was happening to the kingdom was his fault, thus why his finger was decaying. He sighs, shaking his head, "what measures have we taken to fix this?"

"Thus far, we have banned the export of goods and opened one of the royal storehouses," Lyonel turns to the king, "additionally, the Houses of the Riverlands, mine included, have pledged a portion of their yield to the crown."

"Good, good," nods Viserys, "will it be enough?"

A beat of silence passes.

In truth, it answered the question, but still, Lord Lyonel says, "no, your majesty."

Viserys pinches the bridge of his nose. He sighs, slumping on his chair. He turns to the vacant one parallel to him, the seat of his brother.

Otto presses hi palm on the table, "Highgarden has been relatively unaffected by the drought. I've reports of how they're thriving from the profits of their heavily marked-up exports."

"Where is Daemon?" Viserys looks around the council.

Otto purses his lips, looking around the table before turning back to the king.

"I heard that it was he who made the arrests last night," says one of the council members.

Viserys furrows his brows, "has he not returned since then?"

"Unlikely," Lord Hand blurts, "when he is not razing the city, he is joined to my daughter's hip. I can confirm that he was not here last night, as I was then able to speak to my daughter about the Tyrell's conditions."

"Conditions?"

"I've sent a raven to Highgarden on behalf of the Crown, asking for two months worth of food."

The king narrows his eyes, "but?"

"But Lord Olivier said he will only see food delivered to King's Landing if a true representative of the Crown comes to Highgarden with the request."

Viserys stills.

Tension thickens in the room the king laughs. He leans back into his chair, muttering, "qogralbar jaosītsos." Fucking puppy.

Otto watches Viserys lean into the table. It was clear, though he did not understand what he said High Valyrian, that he was displeased— offended, just as he knew he'd be.

"Am I a dog you beck and call with a mere whistle?" Viserys asks no one in particular.

The council does not respond as the king laughs dryly; the vein popping on the side of his neck gives away his anger.

A moment passes, and the grandmaester speaks up, "my king. Lord Olivier is wrong to insist upon a show of power during a time of crisis, but the cost of pride is the lives of many common folk."

"I am well-aware, grandmaester," Viserys snaps.

Otto takes the opportunity to speak, "gracing Highgarden with your presence is an honor not befitting such insolence. I would not even recommend sending your lady-wife, Queen Alicent, or even Princess Rhaenyra."

Viserys turn to Otto, brows furrowing in disbelief as he thinks of who's left, "so you mean that I should send Daemon?"

The Lord Hand nearly chokes on his saliva, "I would not send the Rogue Prince for any treaty, your grace."

"Then who?!"

"My other daughter," Otto says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. After all, he had already mentioned how he's talked to you.

His forehead curls, "your sick daughter?"

Otto does not appreciate that, no matter how true it may be, "the princess has been recovering greatly," he turns to his lap, raising his brows, "she has been well enough to care for your sons and daughter whenever the Queen is performing her duties to the kingdom."

"Daemon talks to me of her conditions," Viserys nods knowingly, "whether you care to admit it or not, your daughter thrives under his care."

He does not.

"That said, I do not think it wise to have her part from him, especially considering how he's keen on keeping her close until they have their own sons and daughters."

"Yes," the Hand snaps, then catches himself. He forces a smile, "I would be overjoyed to welcome another grandchild, especially as I've witnessed the agony of my girl when she was once expecting."

Viserys stiffens at the all-too-vivid recollection of the miscarriage he witnessed first-hand.

"That said," he links his fingers together, "whether I've cared to admit or not, my daughter thrives when she is allowed to roam. She has long wished to smell the flowers of Oldtown, and now that your son, Daeron, will be sent to ward with his uncle Gwayne, this is a perfect opportunity for all parties to be happy. She can make for Highgarden and send the boy to Oldtown. I don't doubt Olivier will see her home personally, as they were childhood friends, and believed once he would wed her."

The king's brow quirks.

"That was before she got sick, of course," Otto shook his head, "the innocent musings of a child. I digress. With the Tyrell's partiality to the princess, I do not doubt the reunion would inspire generosity towards the Crown."

"Well," Viserys raises a hand, "I admit I'm rather persuaded."

Otto purses his lips into a victorious smile.

"You mentioned you've spoken to your daughter of this already?"

"Indeed."

"And what does she say?"

"She is your loyal servant. Her gentle heart is easily moved and she wishes to help in any way sh-"

The doors slam open and close with a loud creak and thud. Hasty footsteps follow and a hushed mutter of the word, "brother."

Viserys watches as Daemon comes to his side, nodding to him in regard before taking the vacant seat parallel to him.

"I hope all the dull talk is over with," Daemon sits down, looking for a cup of wine, then a cupbearer. He raises a brow, "no Rhaenyra?"

Viserys raises a brow, "she is too old to be a cupbearer."

"Ah," Daemon grins at his brother, "I'd nearly forgotten when just two days ago, she complained to me about her dresses being the wrong color."

Viserys chuckles, albeit begrudgingly; his brother sniggers, wholly pleased with himself and his jest.

If he could, Otto would stick pins in his eyes.

"You've come at the perfect time, actually," Viserys exhales the remaining chuckle out of him, "we were just speaking of the plans to get more food for King's Landing. The Crown will send a royal emissary to Highgarden."

"Oh," Daemon raises his brows and leans into his chair, "me."

Viserys mimics his brother, leaning back and tilting his head, "not you, child."

The prince laughs, "course not," he looks across the table, "you're all so damn serious," he props his elbows on the table, "so, when is my niece leaving?"

Viserys shakes his head, "not Rhaenyra either, no."

Daemon raises a brow and thinks for a moment. He leans towards his brother, "surely, you cannot mean to send the boy, Aegon, to negotiate?" He raises a hand, "I agree he can do with diplomacy, but you will see your city sooner starve than the boy to learn from the trip."

Viserys is taken aback, as he did not think of Aegon once during this entire meeting, "no, Daemon. I am not sending Aegon off to learn at the expense of my people."

"Well," Daemon looks around the council, "hail Viserys the Wise," then back to him, "do tell me who else is left. I worry if you send Helaena, I would have to join her."

"I am not sending Helaena," Viserys raises a hand.

"Well, good. She would never fly again if you do."

Viserys sighs, "I'm not sending any of my children."

He watches his brother in expectation.

"I am sending your wife."

It does not register with Daemon for a moment. When it does, he laughs. He leans back and motions, "alright, so you are sending me?"

"No," Viserys speaks firmly, "I am sending your wife."

"What?" Daemon laughs, but less amused. The lightness that he had brought into the council meeting morphs into tension.

"Lord Olivier demands the Crown meet him in Highgarden or starve. I will not grace him with an audience of any of my—"

"But you would gladly offer up my wife!" Daemon snaps, "she is not yours to of-"

"She is. I am her king! And yours."

"And I have done much for my king lately," Daemon rises, "I keep his streets clean and discipline his sons—"

"This isn't about you, Daemon," Viserys decisively interrupts. He sighs at the look of his anger, his betrayal. He raises a hand and speaks softer, hoping to placate him, "this is for the good of the realm."

"Then send your heir!" Daemon snaps, "my wife has nothing to do with the realm."

"Daemon," Viserys slowly tries to stand. He finds he does not have the strength to, thus why he remains seated, "won't you listen to me first?"

"And won't you listen to me?!"

The brothers stare at each other for a prolonged moment. Viserys huffs and motions a hand that he may speak.

Daemon immediately blurts, "she is not fit to travel."

"Olivier Tyrell is a childhood friend of hers. If it is she he meets, he might inclined to give more generosly."

Daemon scoffs out a chuckle, "oh, and you conveniently remember her speaking to you of Olivier fucking Tyrell in passing, have you?"

Viserys points, "her father has spoken of it in-"

"SE PELDIO?!" THE SNAKE?! Daemon snaps, turning to Otto, nearly lunging across the table to choke him. He instead leans on the table, "you toil so tirelessly to steal her from m-"

"Why need I steal mine own daughter?" Otto cuts him off, raising his voice, though his tone is low.

Daemon draws Dark Sister.

"DAEMON!" Viserys screams.

The looming kingsguards draw their swords as well, slowly pressing towards the prince, watching his every move.

"YOUR KING COMMANDS YOU TO HEEL!"

Otto glares at his daughter's husband with all the contempt he'd set aside, "had you been less ill-tempered, perhaps the king would have confidence to send you to Highgarden instead."

"Otto!" Viserys chastises, "silence!"

Daemon laughs. He wants nothing more than to sever his head from his shoulders but he doesn't. He can't, not when you've explicitly begged him not to. Otto knows this, as no semblance of fear is behind his eyes. Daemon thinks he might push him down the stairs when no one is looking.

Viserys watches his brother, calling the guards off before they attempt to apprehend him. He speaks to him in High Valyrian, attempting to again explain the logic in his decision. Daemon does not listen. He sheathes his blade and storms off before he does something irreversible.

Daemon rushes down the halls, fearing as though if he did not find you, he never would. With his jaw hard and hands clenched, all the souls he passed knew not to stand in his way, lest they be trampled.

A gasp leaves you when your chamber doors break open. You stand from your desk, eyes wide as you watch Daemon bolt the locks and march over to you. Your mouth falls open and your pulse races as you half-expect him to pounce on you.

He doesn't. Daemon comes to an abrupt halt, his breath and fists trembling. You watch his Adam's apple bob and you cautiously step forward, hands coming to his cheeks. You press firmly into his skin, brushing your fingers back into his scalp, "speak to me."

Daemon's lips quiver and you gasp when he squeezes your hips. You swear you can feel his nails through your skirt.

You shudder, "Dae-"

"Have you spoken to your cunt father lately?" he quips under his breath, knowing if he didn't, it'd come out as a scream.

You knit your brows, thinking for a moment. "Ah..." your expression relaxes, "Highgarden?"

Daemon grits his teeth so hard, it's a wonder they don't break, "so you agreed?!"

Before you could reply, Daemon pulls away and paces around. He reaches the wall, leans on it for a moment, then marches back to you. You flinch in surprise when he takes your hands and places them back on his cheeks. You squeak when he yanks you by the hips and presses himself against your chest.

"You fucking agreed to go to Highgarden?!" he quips again, less of a whisper, more of a groan.

Your expression softens as he heaves. The struggle to keep his peace is evident. You firmly clutch his cheeks and raise your brows, "I told him it is in my intention to help the Crown as much as I can—"

You feel him shake beneath your palm.

"— and I would go only if my husband allow it."

"Well, he fucking does not!" Daemon snarls, pulling at your skirts in anger. He chuckles dryly, "he doesn't."

You squeak when he begins to rock you back and forth erratically.

"Let the fucking peasants starve," he speaks, almost like a threat, "no one else can have you."

You put your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, "Daemon."

"I mean it!" he snaps, holding you still in your place, "speak their complaints to my fucking dragon."

"Daemon," you take his chin.

Daemon stares at you, all of his anger now melted and reduced to what it really was. His breath shakes, "I love you."

You tuck his silver hair behind his ear, "I love y-"

"Would you stop loving me if I killed him?" Daemon's eyes water as his emotions strangle him, "do you not tire?"

Your chest begins to tighten. You can feel him tremble in anger. You rub his cheeks, "killing him won't solve anything."

"It will solve everything," he hisses, voice uneven.

You sigh and rub his shoulders, simultaneously finding the knots in his muscles and the continuous quivering of his form. You shake your head and lower your gaze, "I would rather count the lives you spared in my name than the ones you took."

Daemon shivers, anger still stoking flames in his blood.

You lift your gaze, your own eyes now watery as you look at him. His brows are furrowed, his forehead curled, and his lips pulled into a frown. You clutch his jaw, muttering his name softly.

He looks away.

You push his cheek, urging him to face you, "hold me like a grudge."

He groans and leans into you, head dropping to your shoulder as his arms constrict greedily around you. He forces you back into your desk and sits you down there, uncaring of the objects that fall out of place. He hikes your skirt up and slots himself between your legs, nuzzling his face between your breasts, inhaling the scent of you. He relaxes slightly, "you hold me to impossible standards."

You look down at him, brushing his hair before kissing it. You rub his back until his tension wholly melts away.

After a long moment, you shift, trying to get Daemon to look at you. "My love."

He reluctantly lifts his gaze.

You take his cheeks and he raises to his height. You pout at him and trace the bridge of his nose before leaning in to kiss him.

Daemon looks away, taking a step back from you.

You freeze, frowning as he takes a deep breath.

"I will not be gentle if I return your kiss."

Your belly drops. You stare at him for a moment as he slowly turns to you. When your eyes lock, he anticipates your reaction. He squeezes your hips.

You gulp and think about his words a moment longer, hands brushing across his chest.

He begins to shift restlessly in his spot as the silence becomes an unspoken rejection. He's about to say something but then he hears your deep inhale.

You tilt your head back and slowly pull him back in, "kiss me then."

Daemon would be damned not to, but he knows you are too kind to him. The last time he had his way with you, your heart nearly gave out. So long ago it may have been, it was still fresh in his memory. He whimpers and nips your neck, "I am serious, sweetness."

You whimper when you feel him begin to undo your dress.

"I want to see you smothered beneath me."

Your breath hitches, hands finding the band of his trousers. You slowly unfurl his ties, humming softly as you do, "you can smother me," you lick his earlobe and nip it.

Daemon, ignoring his better judgment in lieu of his lust, soon has your dress thrown on the floor, leaving you in your shift. He lets you remove his top and his dress shirt, feeling all the heat of anger in his body boil down to desire as you reverently trace his scars with your fingertips. He grabs your wrists before you can kiss his chest.

You look up at him, searching his face.

Finally, Daemon kisses you, mouth hungry, tongue searching yours. He releases your hands to clutch your jaw and continues to kiss you until both your lips are swollen. When he pulls away, he brings you to your feet, "on your knees."

Daemon hastily rips away from you to grab a pillow from the bed. He drops it on the floor in front of him and you lift your shift up your knees, immediately sinking down before him.

Your prince groans and undoes the make of your hair until it is spilling freely down your back. He gathers your brown locks, twisting it around his palm, "my pretty girl."

You gasp when he tugs your head back, forcing you to look up at him. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, "open."

You oblige, sticking your tongue out while you're at it.

Daemon sighs heavily, pleased with how well he's trained you. He presses his thumb on your tongue, wetting it with your saliva, "your father doesn't know how easily you submit to my whims."

Your brows furrow at the mention of him. It pulls you out of the moment. You suck on his thumb, hoping to distract him of his thoughts.

It does. He tugs your hair back, making you cease your sucking. Daemon stares at you, "I said open."

You open your mouth again.

He presses on your tongue with more force as he builds spit up in his mouth. He spits on your tongue, and it splutters everywhere, causing you to flinch. You can feel heat sliding down into your throat.

Daemon pulls his thumb out of your mouth, "swallow."

And so you do.

He grabs your jaw, firm but not painful. He gives you a look, "you will obey, won't you?"

You lick your lips and nod, "yes, my love."

"Good girl," he gently brushes the spit off your cheeks with his thumb, "now, be a good slut and suck me off."

Your gaze lands on his trousers, or, to be exact, his visible erection. You tug his pants down and pull his cock free; the heat and scent of him radiates onto you. He hisses when you claw him forward. It takes great effort for him not to just fuck your face.

He enjoys the apprehension, or even fear, that clouds your expression when he has you like this. He enjoys the uncertainty that hides behind your determination to please him. He heaves through an open mouth, "such an exquisite bitch from a cunt so vile."

You look up at him as you take his cock and lick his tip.

Daemon huffs, fist tightening around your hair, "your father hurt you so bad, you'd take anything I give you, wouldn't you?"

You gag when he pushes his entire length into your hot mouth. Your hands grip his thighs, nails clawing into his skin. The sharp sensation only intensifies his pleasure.

He slowly begins to buck into you, "even if it makes you cry?"

You whimper, and on cue, your eyes water at the size of him. You gag again when he tugs your hair. The feeling of your constricting throat drives him wild. His thrusts grow faster and faster at a rate you wished was more gradual.

Your nose knocks into his pelvis, his coarse pubic hair uncomfortably tickling your nose, making you want to sneeze. You momentarily scratch your nose, then you recall a lesson he had taught you once before. You do your best to relax your throat and cup his stones, massaging them.

"Fuck," he pulls your head back, ghosting his other hand by the side of your head, "such a good whore."

You choke on your yelp as he speeds up to the tempo that pleases him most. Unfortunately for your throat, it was fast as a galloping horse, or at least it felt like it. More than his pleasure, your main focus becomes breathing. You're glad he no longer knocks into you all the way. You've thoroughly slobbered all over him at this point, feeling heavy droplets of spit dribble down your chin and his pubic hair.

Daemon's breathing grows ragged as he concentrates on his peak. His heart thunders as you squeeze your eyes shut, watching tears stream down your stuffed cheeks. He huffs, "such a perfect mouth."

He slows down but replaces speed with depth. You gag far too many times for your liking.

"Jurnegon rȳ nyke, ñuha prūmia," Daemon encourages, slowing even more. Your beady eyes lock with his predatory gaze and he instantly begins to speed up again, "ao sagon gaomagon sīr sȳz syt nyke." Look at me, my heart. You're doing so good for me.

You whimper, pushing back at his thighs as he continues to take your mouth. Your jaw begins to hurt.

"Shh, shh," he heaves as he watches you, "you can take it."

You moan in protest, eyes widening and watering further.

Daemon could care less about your weepy face... but he does, he does care. His toes curl as he slows despite himself. You try to push him off you, but he doesn't let up. He wipes your tears with his free hand, "you said you would obey."

You weep at the reminder, helplessly moaning against his cock.

The sensation nearly makes him finish in your mouth. Daemon hushes you and rubs your cheeks, "just a bit more. My wife doesn't want to disappoint, does she?"

You sob and slobber. You close your eyes and slightly shake your head.

"Good girl."

You take a deep breath and slowly suck on him, bobbing your head back and forth on his hard cock.

Daemon groans and lets you take the lead, though he does not deny himself the flick of his hips, "that's it," he groans, "taking me so well. Better than any painted whore."

You continue like this until Daemon can no longer help himself and takes the reins again. He thrusts into your mouth roughly, but thankfully, it doesn't last very long. He soon spurts in you, hot and salty, and you involuntarily swallow some of his seed.

"Issi ao jāre naejot mōzugon ziry mirre bē syt nyke, litse riña?" Are you going to drink it all up for me, pretty girl?

Tears rush down your cheeks as you shake your head. Daemon, still chasing the last bit of his climax, continues to thrust into you until his reason makes him soft, both in his heart and his cock. He huffs, wiping sweat off his forehead before slowly pulling out. With the same gentleness, he releases your hair. He squats down, bunching your shift out in front of you, "spit."

You spit, watching his thick spend plop on your clothes as you cough and slightly gag. You roll your jaw around as you catch your breath, nearly toppling in exhaustion.

"Shh, shh," Daemon reassures, "arms up for me."

You gulp, sinking to your bum as you raise arms.

"Good girl," he praises, pulling your shift off, leaving you in your small clothes. He wipes your mouth and quickly stands, chucking your clothes with the rest, "water or wine?"

You sigh, watching Daemon go to the nightstand, the muscles on his bum tight as he leans on a leg. He grabs a cup as you mumble, "wine."

He chuckles, pouring some for you, "too salty?"

You groan as he walks back then gratefully take your wine from him. You sigh as he sits in front of you, grabbing your hips before unfolding your legs over him. His filled with mirth; a smile now graces his lips. You watch him as you have your drink.

He kisses your neck, rubbing his hands to your waist before he licks a stripe up your breast.

You pull your cup away, placing a hand at the back of his head.

"You did so beautifully for me," Daemon leans in, violet eyes sparkling in adoration.

You sniffle and pout at him, "it hurt."

He sinks into your neck, "mmm... but not too much..." he frowns, "n-not too much, right?"

You torment him by finishing your wine before replying. His nerves get the best of him and he anxiously peppers kisses on your throat, as if it makes up for the abuse it just went through. You whimper and drop your cup when he begins to suck on your pulse.

"Daemon."

He pulls away, guiltily gazing at you, "just slightly much?"

You chuckle, kissing his lips.

Daemon tries to deepen the kiss, eager to taste himself on you, but you do not let him. You push him back with a sigh. His chest grows uneasy.

You notice and shake your head, "I'm accustomed to pain."

Oh, how he despises it when you say this. He grits his teeth, "but I-"

"It was not very bad though," you press a hand on his chest, "if you feel so bad about it, perhaps you'll bring the ewer of wine over here."

Daemon freezes then furrows his brows through a nod, "of course."

He stands and gets the ewer. You take your cup, raising it to him and he immediately fills your cup to the brim. He props the ewer down then resumes his spot in front of you. He stares at your smallclothes, gulping at the wet stain between your legs. He attempts to pull them off, "you should be naked too."

You squeak when he forces your remaining articles of clothing off, causing some of your wine to splash into your chest.

Daemon throws your clothes off, humming at the red liquid that drips down your navel, "I love wine."

He slides on his chest, but instead of licking the wine, he licks your dripping cunt, forcing you to lean back and release your cup of alcohol.

"Da-Daemon, I'm-" you pull at the roots of his hair, "- I'm still thirsty."

He hums, rubbing his nose against your clit, maddened by the wet squelch it produces. He greedily laps and sucks at your weeping entrance, squeezing your thighs around his head, wanting nothing more than to be smothered by your arousal.

"Daemon," you yank at his roots to gain his attention.

"Mmm," he does opposite, pressing his face deeper into you, "dmrinmk umpm, lomvem," as if you could understand his words in his current position.

You had meant to say something, but the feel of his hot mouth evaporated all your thoughts. You fall back on your elbows, knocking down the cup of wine on your side. Your legs twitch behind his ears and your heel digs into his back.

Daemon hums in approval, gripping your thighs tighter as he feasts more eagerly upon the nectar drawn out with his tongue. He pulls his mouth away, sucking roughly on your clit, before nipping your inner thigh, "such a messy girl."

You gasp as he lifts your lower body, pulling you closer into him until the curve of your arse was resting on his shoulders. He pushes your upper body down on the floor, hands clutching and kneading against your tender breasts as he kisses your cunt.

You writhe beneath him, unable to stay still from the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your back arches, pelvis rutting into him. You encourage him further into you, fingers tangling into his hair.

"Such a needy thing," Daemon pulls his mouth away, hands brushing down your hips, "so pretty when she's about to come."

You hold on him falterd when he begins to rapidly rub your clit. You feel your belly begin to tighten.

"Do you want to come on my fingers or on my tongue?"

You mewl, raking your fingers up the side of your scalp, "darling... I..." you tighten your thighs around him, "I want both."

"Fuck," he sighs, fixing the pillow beneath you, propping your bum atop it, "what a greedy whore you are."

You whimper when Daemon shifts and pushes your thighs up to your belly.

"Are you a greedy whore, Lady Hightower?" your husband raises a brow, parting your hot, weeping cunt to lick a stripe there.

Your spine twists and your belly trembles, "y-yes."

"Mmm," his tongue licks you up. His mouth and chin is soon shining under the lights of the room. He lifts his head, "what was that? I didn't hear."

You watch him hover over you until he aligned and eye level. Some of the slick on his mouth drips onto you. You heave through your mouth, "I'm a greedy whore, my prince."

Daemon squeezes your jaw open and spits on your tongue again. You swallow without a word. He can feel himself grow hard, "I had no idea you were raised to be such a desperate slut."

You hum, "not raised," you rub his chest, "trained."

He gulps, cock twitching in excitement, "seven fucking hells," he grinds on you, "gaomagon jaelā naejot ossēnagon nyke?" Do you want to kill me?

You pout and meet his hips with the same motion, "jaelagon naejot mazverdagon ao iā kepa." Want to make you a father.

Daemon curses before kissing you. You whine as you kiss him back, legs wrapping around his hips, hands clutching his sticky face. You whine again when he pulls away and sinks down on you, "nooo."

He kisses your breast, "just going to make you peak on my tongue and and fingers."

"No, please, I want you."

He gives a boyish grin, "and what do you want?"

"I want your cock," you try to pull him up, "want you to fill me with your seed."

"Qogralbar, litse riña," he swipes your lips, "gaomagon daor buragon, nyke'll tepagon bona naejot ao hae sȳrī." Fuck, pretty girl. Don't worry, I'll give that to you as well.

You were so worked up at this point, it didn't take very much for him to push you over the edge, not when your words fueled him so. Even if you weren't on the precipice, with the way he sank two fingers knuckle deep into you and flicked his tongue over your clit, you'd end up a mess either way.

The next thing you knew, you were breathlessly shaking and spilling over his face. You whine his name out and grind against him. He moans in approval and makes sure to pull every bit of pleasure out of you.

Once your high had thoroughly washed over, Daemon rises back up and kisses your face, "did so well for me."

You hum, your womanhood throbbing from its recent peak. Still, there was a want inside you as you heaved. You catch him by the mouth, pulling him into you. He is taken off-guard by your heated kiss.

He does his best not to crush you beneath him. Even with his revived hard on, he still had reason and knew to let your breathing even out, lest your heart give in.

You make it incredibly hard for him to listen to reason though. "Need you inside me."

Daemon chuckles incredulously, "my love, there is no rush."

"There is," you shake your head, "I need you now," you kiss him, "will you make me beg? Please."

He laughs again as you pepper him with kisses, muttering the same word over and over again. He gulps when you whisper it against his ear in High Valyrian.

"I don't think I will last long if I fuck you like this."

Before you can speak, Daemon flips you over and rubs your hips.

"Ride your dragon, princess."

And so you do.

He knew you had terrible stamina, so he could prolong the session enough to work you up again that you might reach your climax together. You a vision as you mount his cock and lean into his chest. The wet and heavy slap of your hips drive him maddddd.

As expected, it didn't take long for your thighs to ache and your bucking to slow. You whine out his name.

He hums and clutches your neck, "you can do it, my ferocious dragon." He lifts his head and kisses your arm, "don't you want to feel me spill in you? Don't you want to be heavy with my babe?"

You whimper coming to a halt, "yes, but—"

He cuts you off with a thrust. Your flesh spills between his fingers as he squeezes your thighs, "take it. Take what you need from me."

Your face contorts as he bucks into you, his cock poking the delicous tenderness in you that makes your lungs tighten and your toes curl.

Soon, your husband sits up and wraps his arms around you. He brushes the hair sticking on your skin and licks the sweat off your neck, marking you just behind your jaw.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and soon find yourself moving along with him.

"That's it," he hums in approval.

You yelp at the sudden slap of your arse.

"Take it like the slut you are."

You bite your lip and furrow your brows in concentration.

Daemon groans, feeling his peak draw near. He rubs furious circles on your clit, making you groan into his shoulder and bite him. He sighs, wrapping an arm around you, "don't stop, my queen. You're going to ride me until I come inside your tight cunny."

You whine and throw your head back, gasping as you grip his shoulders, maneuvering up and down on him harder.

Yet again, your legs begin to give in and he can feel you tremble in exertion. He kisses the frustrated tear that begins to roll down your cheek as you call out his name. "Shhh. Is it too much for you, sweetheart?"

You sniffle and nod.

"Alright," he holds you still by your hips, making you come to a halt.

You whine defeatedly, cunt throbbing in need as you lean into him, "my love, please."

"I'm here," he kisses your head, slowly pushing you back on the floor, pillow finding your bum again. He pushes your legs into your chest and hooks your feet behind his ear, "did such a good job for me."

You helplessly moan as he begins to thrust sharply into you, each movement creating an obscene wet noise that makes your belly tighten and the rest of you melt. Your back arches in anticipation.

"I'm going to take good care of you," he mutters kissing your ankle, "make your belly swell," he kneads your breasts, "your tits heavy with milk."

You gulp, "please."

"You're gonna take it, aren't you?"

You nod frantically.

"Take it, lover, take it like a dirty slut."

"I'm so close."

"Yeah," he grits his teeth, "can feel you squeezing me so tight."

Daemon leans into you, pressing your legs down with his weight. The moment his lips take yours for a kiss, you break into a mind fogging peak and an unholy sound rips out your throat.

To your husband, it was the holiest of holies. He pushes his hands into the back of your knees and goes wild, slapping roughly into you as he chases the high that had been building up his loins the moment your molten heat wrapped around him.

As your climax reach its highest intensity, your husband finally reaches his, and you feel him throb inside you as his frenzied thrusts grow fast and irregular.

You feel winded, but not at all in the usual suffocating way. Your body melts into him as he fucks out the last of his orgasm into you, milking his cock for all its worth, making sure every drop was pushed deep inside you.

You brush his sweaty hair back, mouth finding his textured shoulder, suckling on it as he slowly relaxes atop you. You bite him once then whisper against his ear, "I love you so much."

Daemon sighs on your head, "avy jorrāelan," he kisses your temple, "tolī than mirros eman mirre jorrāelatan." I love you more than anything I have ever loved.