#be loved in house: i do fanfic

[lucabyte]

Not all who wander are lost. Some who wander, however, are extremely, extremely lost.

[olenvasynyt]

Forest House headcanon? If anyone cares?

The Forest House has indoor lighting that matches the Autumn Court aesthetic: hollow tree trunks that glow! Root chandeliers! Fae light mushrooms! Petrified wood lamps!

[kjwaikiki]

Hotd Jace centric idea:

Jace did not react to Ulf and Hugh Hammer well and I can understand why. Also I know what they do in the books so while it looks like the tv show is making them more nuanced and palatable to the audience Jace is still my #1.

That being said I have an idea. Jace is a big brother, in my mind that is a very big part of who he is, and now one of his brothers is dead and the rest have been or will be sent away. He is effectively alone being kept away from the war with only Baela for company, but even Baela can’t be there very often as she has to patrol.

This brings me to my idea. Ulf and Hugh need someone to teach them how to be dragon riders and with no one else available it falls to Jace. Jace is not very happy about this but he is dutiful so he will do it. However, Jace is not the most patient teacher and often snaps at Hugh and Ulf when they don’t pick things up very quickly. Eventually Ulf and Hugh get sick of this and impatient to actually mount their dragons (Jace has mostly been teaching them Valyrian, how to direct their dragon, and the history of House Targaryen). Somehow they are able to mount Silverwing and Vermithor but things start to go wrong. Hugh can’t control Vermithor and Ulf is hanging onto Silverwing by a thread and bloodying his hands in the process.

Jace comes to their rescue and is able to corral Silverwing and Vermithor to land. He goes off on Hugh and Ulf berating them for being so stupid and lecturing them on how they could have been killed or killed someone else and how dragons are not pets or tools. He ends the lecture by telling them to show him their hands. Jace is not pleased to see Ulf’s bloody palms and while Hugh’s hands are better off (he has more callouses than Ulf) they are still scratched up. Jace goes to his saddle bags, pulls out some ointment and bandages and treats their wounds.

This shifts something in their dynamic as Ulf and Hugh are surprised that Jace is taking the time and effort to take care of their wounds. Jace is mostly just annoyed at the two men’s foolishness but doesn’t see anything odd about looking after them as they are his responsibility. Before he is done Jace states that he will not tell anyone what they tried to do and he’ll make the necessary excuses to the Queen but he expects them both to never do something so foolish again and for them to actually pay attention to their lessons now.

Ulf and Hugh do go to lessons now and are a bit bolder with Jace now. This means that they are both more likely to ask questions now than they were before. Ulf because he now believes Jace will help him and Hugh because he is no longer afraid Jace will report him to his Queen mother for every grievance. Jace answers all their questions even if some of his answers are curt.

I imagine their relationship shifts even more when one of them asks Jace why they need to learn this. If it’s Ulf he is asking out of genuine curiosity and if it is Hugh it is because he is annoyed and slightly confrontational. Jace gives them two answers the first is that the Queen has accepted them as dragon riders and this has accepted them into House Targaryen, they will have an education worthy of House Targaryen (Rhaenyra did not mean to do this but I think Jace would have a little better perspective on this matter, he would know that after the war they can’t just send them back to what they were before). The second reason is that they will be going to war and as Crown Prince he will see them prepared, he will not allow another dragon rider to perish to Vhagar’s jaws.

This makes both Hugh and Ulf look at Jace differently. Suddenly they don’t see an arrogant and perpetually annoyed princeling, instead they see a young man who has lost his brother and is desperately fighting to keep what remains of his family alive. For a moment they see how afraid Jace actually is but they also see how determined he is, at that moment they swear their is fire in the prince’s eyes.

Ulf is much more willing to listen and follow Jace after that and sings his praises to anyone who will listen. This causes Jace to soften a bit towards Ulf. However, Hugh is still wary of Jace. The big revelation their relationship is when, for some reason, Ulf, Hugh, and Jace get drunk together. Ulf is passed out so it is just Hugh and Jace still drinking. Hugh has some liquid courage in him so he asks if the reason Jace doesn’t like them is because of their silver hair.

Jace is a bit taken aback but the drink has actually mellowed his temper and looking at Hugh’s face he can’t seem to muster up any anger. Instead, Jace tells Hugh that he grew up with Aegon and Aemond and that when they were young he used to follow after Aegon everywhere, that he idolized his uncle. Of course later after Driftmark any goodwill vanished but they were still family. Now, his brother and Princess Rhaenys are dead because of Aemond and Jace has no doubt that the rest of his family will follow if the Greens have their way. Jace goes on to say that he doesn’t hate them but that they have dragons and the Targaryen looks, if the uncles he grew up with could betray them that badly what is to say that two strangers won’t do the same. In a way Hugh and Ulf are even more dangerous because they have no reason to be loyal and their dragons could kill them all much easier than Vhagar who is all the way in King’s Landing and who everyone is watching out for.

Hugh is a bit taken aback. He asks Jace if he believes they will betray him because they aren’t true born. Jace actually snorts and says that he isn’t that much of a hypocrite. He goes on to say that he doesn’t know them and that regardless of his own personal feelings he has to protect his family (the unspoken bit is that he has to protect them if no one else will, Daemon is not here and Rhaenyra is not making the best decisions in who to trust at this point in time).

There is a shift between Hugh and Jace, a new found understanding. If nothing else Hugh respects Jace more now than he did before. Jace continues to train them and as the time when they set out to war get closer he becomes more exacting. Ulf and Hugh don’t complain as they know now that Jace is trying to give them the best chance of coming back alive. Right before they fly out Jace presents them with expensive riding gear in shades of black and weaved through with chain mail, expensive leather gloves to protect their hands, new boots, dragon glass dagger, and small pins made of Valyrian steel in the shape of a three headed dragon with rubies for eyes.

Ulf and Hugh are touched and Ulf hugs Jace while Hugh gives him a respectful nod. Jace gives him an awkward nod back and tells them to watch out for arrows and to remember that dragons are not pets or tools. They part there and Ulf and Hugh go to war where they are actually two of Jace’s most outspoken supporters. A lot of people are doubtful about Rhaenyra’s reign and Ulf and Hugh try to reassure everyone by saying that Jace will be a great king.

I like to think that Ulf and Hugh do well and eventually the question is brought to Rhaenyra about what will be done about them. Addam is going to be Corlys’ heir but what about Ulf and Hugh? Rhaenyra is very vague and just says that they will be rewarded. Jace however speaks up and says that there will be empty keeps and lordships available after this, and that as dragon riders of House Targaryen they should be rewarded with a keep.

This sparks a fight between Jace and Rhaenyra as she thinks that giving Ulf and Hugh lordships wills upset their allies and that it is enough that Ulf and Hugh will be given gold and possibly stewardship of a keep. Jace points out that they can’t just expect Ulf and Hugh to be content with a few gold dragons and being hidden away in a keep after the war is done. By her actions Rhaenyra has ensured that Hugh and Ulf will always be linked to House Targaryen, and giving them keeps and a title mitigates them as a political threat as it keeps them content and acknowledges their service to the crown. Jace and Rhaenyra go back and forth a bit with the argument ending in a stalemate and neither person happy.

Somehow the argument reaches Ulf and Hugh on the frontline and while neither are happy with Rhaenyra but everything they hear about how Jace defended them just cements their loyalty and good opinion of him (the tale has been a little distorted by the time it reaches Ulf and Hugh. Now it sounds as if Rhaenyra wanted them to be sent back to where they came from with a few gold coins while Jace pushed for them to be elevated to Lord Paramounts). It also helps that everything Jace has taught them, all his advice, and even his gifts has saved both Ulf and Hugh’s life more than a few times from an arrow or an ambush while they have been at war.

I imagine that the story progresses with Ulf and Hugh becoming more and more loyal and devoted to Jace while Jace has to constantly defend Ulf and Hugh from other people (at some point Jace has assumed responsibility for the two men, they aren’t his brothers or even family but they are part of House Targaryen and as Crown Prince he has a duty to see them taken care of). At the same time Ulf and Hugh grow more disillusioned and discontent with Rhaenyra with only their loyalty to Jace tying them to the Queen’s cause.

Of course eventually Jace dies at the Battle of the Gullet and everything falls apart. Rhaenyra’s response to her heirs death is to hole up in Dragonstone which endears her to no one but least of all to Ulf and Hugh. The two men want blood and they blame the Triarchy and Rhaenyra for Jace’s death. In their minds Rhaenyra should have ordered someone else to go, gone herself, or provided more dragons and ships. It boggles their minds that Jace and Vermax were brought down by a few arrows and so they have constructed a narrative where it is not only the Triarchy’s fault but also Rhaenyra’s and the Blacks.

Some men, like Cregan Stark, still follow Rhaenyra to honor Jace. However Ulf and Hugh resent Rhaenyra and eventually betray the Blacks. In the end they twist everything Jace said and did for them and interpret it as them having just as much right to the throne as Rhaenyra. Jace did say that they were dragon riders of House Targaryen and Jace taught them everything they know about dragons and House Targaryen, surely one of them would be a worthier heir than Rhaenyra or one of the Greens. Inevitably they die.

I don’t really know where I was or am going with this. I just really like the idea of a Jace who comes into his own by teaching and looking after someone else after all his brothers are either dead or sent away. I like the idea of Jace being a good King and leader and that many people followed Rhaenyra because of Jace. That begs the question though of what happens when one of the big reasons people supported you is gone?

[sylvancastor]

Writing out my preferred way the battle at Rook's Rest should have gone because why not.

The beginning mostly stays the same. Criston signals for Aemond and Vhagar, but Sunfyre arrives first. Aemond sees him fly overhead and is pissed, but he doesn't wait to follow him into battle because he's not an idiot and as much as he wants the crown, he's aware of the intensity of the blow losing Aegon would be to their cause.

Still, Vhagar is slow and has to launch herself off the ground, so Aegon gets their first and has an initial fight with Meleys but Vhagar's quick arrival keeps Sunfyre's injuries from being quite so intense. The two of them attack Meleys side by side, but due to her speed and Rhaenys's expertise, she manages to keep evading them with fairly light damage.

Meleys takes off high into the clouds and Aemond and Aegon follow her. No one can see them from below. Aegon urges Sunfyre to engage directly with Meleys and the two dragons become locked together. Instead of intervening this time, Aemond simply watches as Sunfyre is injured and Aegon cries out for his help. Aemond only watches.

We can see the anger in his eyes. It would be so easy to allow Meleys to kill Aegon and Sunfyre. He could say he did his best, but that Aegon refused to battle carefully. He would be honored after he died and Aemond would become king. Aegon doesn't notice the inaction, too focused on saving Sunfyre and himself. In a desperate move, Aegon unclips one of his restraints to grab the dagger at his side and drives it into Meleys's eye as Rhaenys screams in shock and fury.

Meleys wails and lets go of Sunfyre, dropping out of view. Aegon is triumphant and turns to his brother with a smile. Aemond isn't smiling. We watch as he follows Meleys's descent and decides he's safe for now. He returns his attention to Aegon. It would be so easy to do the deed himself and blame Meleys. He contemplates it only for a split second, but Aegon's face goes from smiling to horror. We think he's understood what Aemond plans to do, but in fact, his eyes are fixed on a sight behind him. Meleys has darted up from behind, mouth open and poised to burn Aemond in his saddle.

Aegon doesn't hesitate. He urges Sunfyre forward and as Meleys breathes out a wall of fire, he throws himself and Sunfyre in front of it to protect Aemond from the blast. Before Aemond can react, Meleys sinks her claws into Sunfyre's chest and pulls him out of sight.

Aemond pursues, but it's too late. Meleys has bit into Sunfyre's wing and Aegon can barely stay in the saddle with his one remaining restraint. Meleys rips her head back breaking off part of Sunfyre's wing and the king and his dragon fall through the air, landing in the forest.

Similarly to the show, Aemond is able to defeat Rhaenys and Meleys on his own after Aegon's fall.

Later on, we learn the only reason Aegon was able to survive was the one remaining restraint held him to the saddle but allowed him to slide off to the side enough to evade some of the dragonfire. He's still burned and in pain. He sacrificed himself for his brother and Aemond can't betray him now. Not when he owes his brother a life debt, not when he's seen how deeply Aegon loves him. He becomes Prince Regent and reconciles himself to forever protecting his brother from this point forward.

[fruitalike]

OBVIOUSLY || Trans Elliott x Male Reader

RATING: Explicit, 18+ obviously

PARING: TRANS Elliott x Male Reader

TAGS: TRANS ELLIOTT, as always, you're married, 2nd person, oral/p.i.v. sex, multiple orgasms/positions, pwp, maybe mirror sex, spit as lube/spit kink a little bit..., HHHHAFU (House Husbands Have Heart Aprons Fanfic Universe)

WORDS: 3476

SUMMARY:

“How much longer?” You ask, and Elliott whips his head back around to face you, face even redder still. “How much longer for what?” He’s flustered again; but it’s different now than it was when you’d first come home. You watch him chew his lip nervously, but he stops when he notices you’re staring. “Until the food gets out of the oven,” you say, your eyes still on his lips until you see them quiver, then you look up into his eyes instead, tilting your head just enough, “obviously.”

READ ON AO3

OR...

(genital words: cock/head/tip, chest/nipples, lips/cunt/walls/g-spot)

You arrive home at your expected time, but your husband greets you as you walk up the front steps regardless. He opens the door as you make it onto the porch. “It’s not done,” he says, he’s flustered—you’re not sure if it’s because he’s embarrassed or because he’s been rushing, maybe both. “I… I just need, like, fi- ten minutes. Ten minutes and you can come in. It won’t be done but you can come in.”

You can tell by the look on his face that you should probably hold in the chuckle you feel in your throat. Elliott is a bit of a mess, more comfortable clothes replace his usual formal attire, his hair is all over his face, and his eyebrows are a bit furrowed, and he’s red in the face. Any desire you have to laugh is solely based on how cute he looks; but you refrain anyways. “I’ll just wait out here. You let me know when you’re ready for me to come in, okay?”

Elliott breathes a sigh of relief. “I swear it won’t take long,” he says, though even he doesn’t seem convinced, “it’s just- I lost track of time, and… y’know. It’ll be fine.” You go to reassure him, but he just repeats himself, “It’ll be fine,” he whips around and slinks back into the house. Though you’re sure that you can hear him repeat it to himself again as he closes the door.

Once you’re sure he’s too far inside the house to hear you, you do finally chuckle to yourself. He’s just too sweet. Taking a seat on the swinging bench on the front porch, you resign yourself to waiting indefinitely for whatever Elliott had planned. It seemed like he was cooking something, judging by the heart apron he wore, and the various foodstuffs all over it. You rub your eyes as the fall breeze relaxes you. You could use a nice, home cooked meal.

You’re awoken from your near slumber as Elliott opens the front door again. He smiles at you and beckons you inside. It takes you a second to gather yourself enough to follow him in, but once you do, it’s obvious he’s cooking something. “Don’t look too hard at the oven.”

“How about I just go take a shower?” Again, he seems relieved by your offer. Elliott kisses you as you head for the bathroom.

Given the state of the kitchen, you figure you can take your time in the shower. You try not to spend too much time thinking about what Elliott’s cooking for you. Of course, you do wonder. But you try to put it out of your mind. The water is almost viciously hot, but that’s what it takes to soothe you at this point. Your skin grows tender as you scrub all of the farm’s grime down the drain. It doesn’t bother you, though. Better to actually feel clean. You make sure to put on plenty of lotion afterwards, anyways.

You lose track of time in the shower, but years on the farm have made you painfully efficient regardless—it’s barely been half an hour by the time you’ve finished. You still head for the kitchen once you’ve dried off and put clean clothes on. Evidently, half an hour was all that Elliott needed to get the kitchen back under control. He was too considerate to run any water while you were showering, but all of the dirty dishes are stacked neatly in the sink. The counter tops are wiped clean of any of the detritus that had accumulated there as he cooked. More importantly, he seemed much calmer: he’s no longer flushed, or as disheveled (you hesitate to even refer to him that way—Elliott was always far too formal to find himself truly disheveled, well, unless… you know) as he had been before. He comes to your side the moment you enter the kitchen. He wraps his arms around your neck and kisses your cheek multiple times. “No peaking,” he says, playfully turning you away from the kitchen with his hold on you.

“I wasn’t even looking!” There’s just enough playful exasperation in your tone that Elliott laughs a little; even as you can’t help but try to smell what’s cooking in the air. Only now do you notice that he’s opened the windows—clearly trying to keep the aroma from what ever it is he’s cooking from building up in the room, what a tease.

He releases you from his grasp and you sit at the island in the kitchen. Your eyes naturally follow him as he walks in front of you, standing between the counter you rest at and the oven, shielding whatever he was cooking from your prying eyes. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asks, trying to make his appearance in front of you seem a little more natural, as wiping down the already clean counter tops didn’t quite justify it.

“Sure,” you say. You’re not particularly thirsty. You just like watching Elliott squirm, nervously wiping his hands on his heart adorned apron as he prepares a glass of hot apple cider for you. A pot of it was already on the stove, surely another one of his tricks to distract from whatever he has in the oven.

He brings it to you, coming around the side of the kitchen island, mug in hand. Elliott sits up on the counter as you drink your cider, ever the distraction. You were wrong before—you definitely needed this cider. The warmth soothes you more than a shower ever could. Perhaps your husband knows you a little too well. He reaches for your hand and you intertwine your fingers. You pull on his hand and he scoots across the counter so that he’s in front of you. He carefully spreads his legs so that sitting in front of you is easier for him. You’re sure that that’s all there is to it.

Both of Elliott’s distractingly long legs dangle to either side of you. You gingerly place your mug between his legs, looking up at him. The warmth from the cup radiates between his legs, you can tell by how red his face continues to get as your mug rests between his thighs.

Finding yourself parched, you reach for your cider again with your free hand. Of course your other hand is still delicately intertwined with your husbands. You choose to ignore the embarrassed glances that Elliott shoots your way. His face reddens still as you continue to sip your delicious drink so thoughtfully prepared for you by your loving husband, who shifts restlessly on the counter as you make a show of ignoring him.

There’s a twitching in the front of his pants, and Elliott squeezes his thighs together, seizing the opportunity to do so while you still have your mug in hand. He carefully places his feet between your thighs, his own legs pressed together in a slight embarrassment. It’s obvious that his feet don’t really have anywhere else to go (as long as keeping them off of the counter was a priority), but you can’t help but see it as yet another distraction.

You finally release Elliott’s hand to place it on his left foot where it meets his ankle—acknowledging his distraction as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. He turns away from you, to look at the oven, of course. You trace your fingers up and down the back of his ankle, smirking to yourself as you feel him get chills. “How much longer?” You ask, and Elliott whips his head back around to face you, face even redder still.

“How much longer for what?” He’s flustered again; but it’s different now than it was when you’d first come home. You watch him chew his lip nervously, but he stops when he notices you’re staring.

“Until the food gets out of the oven,” you say, your eyes still on his lips until you see them quiver, then you look up into his eyes instead, tilting your head just enough, “obviously.” His breath hitches on your slightly snarky tone. He turns away from your gaze and wets his lips trying to find something to say; he’s already so caught up in you.

“Not long.” Is all he can manage. You’ve finished your drink, so you set your mug on the counter top. The light clatter startles Elliott. “Really?” You ask, calling him on his bluff. You’re tracing your thumb up and down the top of his foot as you speak; the rest of your fingers still, now.

He squirms. “I’m… not giving specifics,” he hesitates, “obviously.” Elliott seems proud that he’s turned your snark back on you but all you do is smirk; and move your hand up to his calf. “Is there time for anything?”

“… Like what?” He asks, as if he hadn’t just squeezed his thighs together. You move your hand further up his calf. “You know.”

“Maybe… it’d have to be quick.”

“Can you be quick?” He huffs but spreads his legs just enough to slide down into your lap, you kiss him immediately; he reciprocates desperately. “Yes.” He says quietly after you’d pulled away. You can tell by the way he’s trembling he’s telling the truth. He’s always so excitable.

You can only kiss him so long before you begin to really question the integrity of the bar stool you’re sitting on; the metal creaking with every sudden movement. You stand and usher Elliott back up onto the counter top. He pulls you to him and you grind against him. You can feel how eager he is through his sweatpants.

Kissing him again, you’re able to slide his sweats and underwear down with ease. You elect to still leave them on, just in case he needs to quickly slip away to cater to whatever he’s cooking. Of course, you hope that he won’t need to; that he’ll be at your mercy until you’re done with him.

You ease him onto his back and crouch between his legs, too weary of the bar stool to use it. Some of your limited time obviously goes to kissing and delicately nipping at Elliott’s inner thighs, much to his chagrin. He whines as you tease him. “Please,” he begs, your kisses inching closer and closer, teasing out more and more of his desperation, “just… please.”

Your tongue slips between his lips with practiced brevity; tracing right up to where his cock aches for your attention. You kiss around it a little at first, just enough to tease him a little more before you allow yourself to fully give into your carnal desires. Elliott gasps as you finally lick him. His hips try to buck up into your mouth, chasing the friction you expertly provide.

You pin Elliott’s legs to the counter top: leaning forward you rest an arm on the back of each of his thighs; using one hand to hold him by the ankles and keeping his feet in the air; the other rests on his pubic mound, and you use your thumb to pull him taught. His little cock is even more exposed to you now, his tip peeking out of his foreskin. He whimpers as you focus the tip of your tongue on his head.

Soon, even you have grown tired of your merciless teasing. “Behave.” You warn before taking Elliott into your mouth completely. You can feel the muscles in his legs flex—desperately trying to keep himself still. He cries out for you as you suckle his tiny cock, letting your teeth graze his head.

Motion in your periphery causes you to look to your right. You can’t help but notice both your and Elliott’s reflection in the screen of the television in the living room. Obviously, you’re awkwardly half-way crouched between his legs, but Elliott’s the main event. He’s sprawled out on the kitchen island, his lower back flush with the bar top, beloved husband folding him in half. His shoulders make contact with the lower part of the counter and his hair billows all over it. You make a mental note that his head is hanging off the edge of the counter top. Occasionally you can hear his nails scratch against the underside of the bar as you continue to suck him off, but his other hand shamelessly gropes at his own chest through his heart apron. You don’t need to consult his reflection to know that he’s teasing his own nipples, you can feel it in the way his cock twitches in your mouth.

Elliott won’t last much longer like this, so you pick up the pace a little. You swirl your tongue and bob your head a little faster, and make quick work of your beloved husband. He’s crying out for you and cumming on your face within seconds. His thighs tremble as you continue to tease his aching cock, and you can feel your own cock twitch in your pants. You need to be inside on him.

You kiss him a few times before pulling yourself off of him. Standing back up straight makes your back crack, so you take a second to stretch it out. Once you’ve gotten comfortable again you let your hard cock rest against his ass. “You want it?” You ask, and Elliott seems to shift a little, checking the oven, again, undoubtedly.

“Please,” he begs, again, “fuck me.” As much as you’d love to hear it, he doesn’t have to beg you twice. You shove your own pants and underwear down to around your knees and let your cock out. You spit on your cock out of habit, but Elliott hardly needs it. You rub your spit up and down your cock as you watch him quiver; if he hadn’t been wet enough for you after his orgasm, he would be now. He whimpers when you rub your cock up against his. He stops holding onto the counter to reach down and jerk your cock a couple of times, you thrust into his hand. “Put it in… put it in.”

You oblige, angling your cock with Elliott’s cunt, but letting him push your tip in since he was so eager. He hisses at the feeling, and you can’t help but snicker a bit as you slowly thrust in. He always wants more than he can take. But it doesn’t take long for him to get used to you, especially as he continues to masturbate openly—still rubbing his nipples and jerking himself off, too.

He only stops when you thrust into him a little harder, causing him to lurch forward and grab onto the counter top between his legs to stabilize himself. You hold onto him a little firmer and trace your thumbs across his sides. “I’ve got you,” you say, leaning forward a little and spitting on his cock, “you can touch yourself as much as you want.”

Elliott whimpers at your taunting tone, but follows through nonetheless, rubbing his little cock in time with your thrusts. You’re careful with how hard you’re fucking him, not wanting to concuss him as his head continued to hang off the lower counter top. But, you’re still picking up the pace. You only have a little while longer to fuck him until dinner’s ready, after all.

Carefully, you fuck him faster still, Elliott hanging on your every movement. As much as you’d love to, you don’t even have to fuck him particularly hard to have his cunt desperately squeezing you with every thrust. Perhaps you know your husband a little too well. You tighten your grip on his sides when you feel his muscles start to tense, and you position your thrusts towards the angle you know he likes the most.

He doesn’t last much longer. His toes curl and you feel compelled to watch him in the reflection of the television again. He cries out for you as he struggles through his orgasm, jerking himself rapidly even as he tries to control his own movements carefully, still in such a precarious position. You keep a slower, gentle pace to ease him through his orgasm, holding onto him for reassurance; your own end far ahead.

Once he’s come down a bit, you pull out and he sits up on the counter. Elliott kisses you sloppily, wrapping his arms around your neck. All care for any mess on the kitchen counter long gone. He’s leaning into you and running his fingers through your hair; swaying ever so slightly, you imagine it’s from all the blood rushing back down from his head. He pulls away from the kiss and just looks at you, excess desperation in his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “Is there time for just a little more?”

His fingers stop moving in your hair and just hang there instead. He gives a meek nod. “…Maybe.” He says, as if to hide his own desire.

Once more you usher him, this time down from the counter top. He kisses you again but you pull away, kissing his cheek and then his neck. He moans for you, overstimulated but still desperate for more. You have him by his biceps, so it’s easy for you to turn him around and press his chest to the counter top. He whines softly as you rub your cock up against his cunt.

Elliott’s leaned over the bar part of the kitchen island, his fingers naturally wrapping around the edge of the counter, holding himself still. You gather his hair up in one hand, wrapping it around itself for a better hold. “Just keep an eye on it for me, okay? I’d hate for all your hard work to go to waste.” He only whimpers in response, so you tug on his hair. “Okay?”

“I will, I will, just… please.” He’s looking back at you, moving hips trying to push your cock back inside of him. You oblige, pounding into him rather harshly. Elliott lurches forward and cries out for you in the best way. He squeezes down on you when your balls smack against his cock, you can feel it twitch, too.

You’ll never get used to how sensitive he is inside once you’re in the second round. His walls can’t help but quiver around you with every thrust. He’s in a better position now, so you can thrust into him as hard and as fast as you both would like. Elliott continuously begs you for more, and you can only provide.

His thighs quiver with every thrust, and the island itself seems to creak a little when you really pound into him. You ignore it. You can’t possibly pay any mind to something as unimportant as the structural integrity of your home when your husband is crying out for you like this. You’re ratcheting up the pressure, constantly aiming for and pounding into his g-spot. All Elliott can do is punctuate every thrust with a cry of “please, please, please!”

He’s barely coherent. But you can feel his orgasm drawing closer and closer—the way he’s bearing down on you makes it hard for you to keep a steady pace. Your grip tightens on him again as you feel your orgasm building as well. You pull on his hair again, and you swear you can hear his fingernails scrapping against the underside of the counter top.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” There’s something so special about shredding Elliott’s eloquence with your cock—it makes your toes curl. You keep the same hold on his hair as you feel him tense up all over. “I’m going—fuck! I’m cumming, I’m cumming!”

His cunt squeezes you hard and you feel him gush with his orgasm, coating you and trickling down your bare thighs. You’re not far behind him, careful not to tug on his hair anymore than you already had, lest you begin to rip out his delicate mane. Thrusting as hard and as fast and as deep as you can manage, you release deep into your husband; crying out for him just as he had for you. There’s no discernible rhythm to the last of your thrusts, all that’s left is your desperation.

You pull him up from the counter, your cock still inside of him even as you begin to soften. Your hips still pistoning slightly as you pull his back to your chest; hands roaming him all over to soothe the both of you. His chest heaving still, he reaches for your hand.

You intertwine you fingers again, just as you had before. “Elliott…” you drag out his name dramatically, tracing his jawline with the pointer finger on your free hand, “how much longer do we have to wait for the food?”

Elliott glances at the oven. “Just a little longer,” he says, “obviously.”

[unluckyprime]

oh wow . sports ⚽️🏳️‍🌈

[onfirekittyturtle]

who knew the ship hyperfixation would come back.

ps. the last drawing is a bit old but hope it's still good. and there's more where that came from!

[chimerahyperfix]

This loop has to be the one. Nevermind that you said it last loop, and the one before, and the one before that, and most of the ones before that. THIS was the one you'd stop the King in his tracks. You push a few of your many potions to the side to make room on your desk. None of them worked to stop him, so they were useless. He's still about twelve, fourteen? hours away, so you have enough time to make the bomb, eat and take a fat nap before you go pick a fight. Maybe this time, it'll work! It has to!

You've gotten better at making the Craft Bomb. It hasn't blown up on you before you intended to use it in... a long time. You can make it fast enough, now, for it to still be light outside! You've become silent while you work, which Mirabelle has told you is ''worrying'', but you don't see why it is. Are you really that loud? (Yes. You are.)

It's hard work. Soft light bathes your desk, your work, you. You reach out, past your potions, and grab your water bottle. Take a big swig, and

Hmm. That's not water.

How. HOW do you keep making this mistake. You look at the bottle in your hand, and sure enough, it’s one of the potions; your water bottle is shoved in the back of the collection of other containers. The taste is caustic, your throat begins to burn. You shouldn’t be this calm for having just drank something that’ll kill you in a handful of minutes, but it’s happened before. Despite the pain you don't bother trying anything. Just push the finished bomb to the side and lay your face against the wood of the table. Feel the blood start to pool in your mouth and dribbling out, staining the wood. Mirabelle, or Euphie or whoever comes in next, they can use it this loop. It's not the first time you've drank one of the many, many dangerous potions on your desk, and it's probably not the last. Maybe you'll actually clean the crabbing thing off before you work.

Whatever. You have next time. You have all the time.

Perhaps a bit too much, actually.

[cepetriwrites]

Alicent Reverses the Hourglass Memes Masterpost (WIP)

Prologue (chapter 1)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11 Pt 1

Chapter 11 Pt 2

Chapter 11 Pt 3

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 26

Chapter 31 (Pt 1)

Chapter 31 (Pt 2)

Chapter 31 (Pt 3)

Chapter 31 (Pt 4)

Chapter 38

Chapter 39 Pt 1

Chapter 39 Pt 2

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47 pt 1

Chapter 47 pt 2

Chapter 48 Pt 1

Chapter 48 pt 2

Chapter 49 Pt 1

Chapter 49 Pt 2

Chapter 50 Pt 1

Chapter 50 Pt 2

Chapter 50 Pt 3

Chapter 51 Pt 1

Chapter 51 Pt 2

Chapter 51 Pt 3

Chapter 52 Pt 1

Chapter 52 Pt 2

Chapter 52 Pt 3

[sugaredoleander]

i say this with love. house fanfic writers, if you ever want me to beta something for medical accuracy, i'll fucking do it no questions asked

[notfeelingthyaster]

guys gals and nb pals, i've been reading that amnesia house verse fanfic, and i want similar stuff, where house either decides to cut off the leg or self-improve and it works, so if you guys have any recs, pls send

[raventrigonsdaughter]

Streets are saying Alice will have a big role in episode 5 and that the ending will "shock" everyone... she's gonna die isn't she, right after she got rid of the curse too i...

[caitlynmeow]

ugh gonna try to conjure my dimitrescu hyperfixation back by watching some videos and hoping for the best

[mayormimii]

Thinking about the fact that (in Pathologic 1) Daniil looks almost exactly like Victor Kain.

You know, Maria’s father.

There could be something in that, I think.

[electricalhuzzah]

Yeah, of course, it’s me again—the freaking addict 😭✋🏽

Yes, I read your fic again (I seriously need help, lol. I have so much work to do, yet all I can do is read fics and rewatch shows over and over again #adhd). I just wanted to say that I absolutely love, love, love the fact that Mabel and Bill get along. Like… first of all, it’s so in character for Mabel, let’s be honest. Yes, she would definitely be mad at him for what he did to them (the comment she made about Bill’s mom made that very clear, lmfao 💀) because no one messes with her family—especially not her brother—but then she gets over it (just like she did with Pacifica) and ends up getting along with him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

I wouldn’t say she forgives him though... not yet, at least. He’s going to have to earn that. But knowing Mabel, it probably won’t take much 🙂‍↕️

And second of all, they make such a power duo. I don’t even know why I love it so much. Uggghhh, the way they’re already painting each other’s nails, Mabel confessing her pain to him, and Bill actually opening up to her about his painful breakup… These two are even talking about crushes, such a besties thing to do🥹✋🏽🤍

Thank you for reading my ramblings… AGAIN❤️🫣

dawg i think at this point youve read the heinz dilemma more times than i read the heinz dilemma prior to posting chapters 😭😭 YOURE the reason my hits are going bonkers (this is very positive i appreciate the support more than i can actually say with words)

also YES im a bill/mabel alliance propagandist‼️ theyre besties go start discourse with the wall.

as far as mabel’s forgiveness goes,,, may or may not deep dive into this in a later chapter, but she has this really interesting relationship with blind trust. blindly trusting stan when all evidence pointed to the fact that she shouldn’t have, even when dipper was ready to jump ship, was the only reason they got ford back in canon.

at the same time, blindly trusting bill/blandin was the very thing that started weirdmageddon. arguably two pivotal moments for different reasons, but it’s interesting that each time she trusted the people because the promised her something she wanted (stan promised he did everything for his family; blandin/bill promised more summer).

i think it’s funky to explore how mabel will function when she is given the opportunity to trust blindly, but knows she is not being promised anything, in tandem with her post-weirdmageddon maturing.

also reading back to the “got pink eye eating your moms ass” and “bill has a tv crush on atticus finch” is absolutely CRAZY im positively screaming. sometimes i just be putting stupid details in this fic 😭😭

ok once again thank you SO MUCH for reading!! you’re actually so baller for that <33

[whorejolras]

who would be down for an adults only les mis discord 👀 👀 i'll put my reasoning under the cut

reblog for reach (if you want 🫶🏻)

why i want an adults only space

a main reason is i like to post horny content and share explicit fics and don't wanna be a creep around kids.

teens you guys are cool, i don't mind you following me here bc i trust y'all to self determine what's appropriate for you in public spaces, and i definitely used to be that teen in fandom *redacted* years ago.

but when it comes to one on one interaction ie. discord where it tends to get a bit more personal, i just worry about being too open around minors.

i've also had people say to me that don't want to be in a chat with minors and i want there to be a space for us 🫶🏻

also being a queer sw is isolating in servers not only bc of whorephobia run wild with civ moderators but also bc if it's got minors i feel like every part of my life is "nsfw" and like i'm held under a higher scrutiny in that aspect. it just feels safer if there aren't any minors around.