NHL, NFL, Minnesota sports defender, Toronto Maple Leafs fan, Hughes Brother enthusiast, hotd, Percy Jackson, book lover, full time student part time athlete, full time sports lover
This blog and author has realized I have more than one fascination, so I have decided to expand my horizons and interests! With that being said I gave the blog a full make over, but can’t let go of my luke hughes title lol!
That being said! This blog is 18+ so minors please look away. However I can’t stop you just like I wasn’t stopped when I was under 18
Just opened a doc to mess around and try to get my writing to being above subpar again, and obviously I’m going to use the Gullet as inspiration since it’s fully on my mind.
The first song that came on? IF I DIE YOUNG BY THE BAND PERRY COME ON.
Summary: Your husband is adamant about the two of you flying to the Gullet, insisting the battle will be over before either of you has the chance to worry. You can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong, but Jace promises everything will be fine.
The problem is that promises mean very little in the middle of a war.
Pairing: Husband! Jace x Wife! reader
WC: 3.7k
Warning: 18+, slight smut, s3 spoilers- ish, a few things were changed mentions of injuries, no deaths, fix it au!, targcest, reader rides Silverwing, slightly proofread, fade to black at the end.
As the war had continued to ramp up and tensions had rose, everyone was on edge. Lucerys was dead, Rhaenys and Meleys were dead, your father had spent an eternity at Harrenhall, and your mother wasn't listening to anyone.
It felt like the walls were closing in, like there was a chance that all of you would die— making the effort pointless.
Given the circumstances, your parents wanted to solidify things— leaving nothing to question. They had you and Jace get married, a small ceremony for just the two of you. Even in the midst of grief and fear, the two of you smiled with joy during the entire thing.
Your bubble of joy and time alone didn't last as both of you were always needed. Intimacy was rarely able to happen as the two of you would fall asleep when you were in the bed together. If the two of you didn't immediately fall asleep, then Jace was complaining to you about his mothers decisions or how he didn't trust the dragonseeds— which you agreed.
War was brutal and it always seemed like the price to pay was increasing daily, something no one had warned you about.
You wanted to keep your husband close to you at all times, a pit always in your stomach at the idea of something happening to him. He was always so eager to prove to his mother that he could fight for her, but you wanted him to be a coward. You didn't want him to get hurt or killed and truthfully, you couldn't imagine life without him.
Everytime he suggested that she should send him or the two of you, your fingers would grip his tighter and your stomach would twist. Even though he'd get angry when she would ignore his suggestions, you felt relieved.
Relived that he would be safe, that you would get another night with him, relieved that you would also be safe.
Rhaenyra had summoned everyone for a meeting, you and Jace getting to the room before everyone else.
You stood there, a sigh escaping your lips.
His head tilted as glanced at you, watching you twist the rings on your fingers.
"Are you alright?"
You shrugged, your eyes flickering over to him as he walked closer.
"I'm sure that she has summoned us here to only tell us more bad news. As of late, there has been nothing positive about these meetings."
He grabbed your hands, staring into your eyes as he closed the gap between the two of you.
"My love, we will get through this— that I know. You can't give up yet."
You gave a half smile, one that didn't reach your eyes all the way.
"I'm not giving up, husband. I am just scared."
He smiled, not because it was funny— but he found you to be so beautiful, even when you confessed that you were scared.
"I too am scared, but this war is necessary. Our future, our children's future, and theirs depends on it—"
"I never said that it wasn't necessary." You interrupted.
He brought one of his hands to your face, caressing it.
"I do not wish to upset you or argue, I just want you to know that I understand— everyone here does."
Your eyes locked onto his, silence taking in over the moment as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss.
Your moment was interrupted as Rhaenyra cleared her throat, walking into the room with everyone else walking in behind her.
"Mother, I'm glad you finally came." Jace spoke, turning to face her as she walked to the front of the room.
Baela came to the side of you with a smirk on her face.
"There is something that I must inform everyone about—" Rhaenyra spoke.
Jace glanced at you.
"I met with Alicent a few days ago, she came here to visit me."
Your brows furrowed in disbelief, "you did what?"
Jace had a scowl on his face, his hand resting on the table in front of him.
"Mother, you allowed Alicent to come here?—"
"Are you mad?"
Rhaenyra watched as everyone around the table shared a look, the sunlight making your disappointed looks even more obvious.
"She made an offer to surrender King's Landing." Rhaenyra added.
"And you believe her? You believe the woman that helped bring this mess about?" You question, your voice raising.
Jace absentmindedly grabbed your hand as he could tell that you were getting upset.
"I have to believe that Alicent's offer was genuine."
Jace scoffed, "it is a ruse, cloaked in stale friendship!"
"The risk that she took in coming here is beyond question." Rhaenyra pointed out.
"I too would risk my head, if it meant that I could kill off an entire side by using old, fond memories. It is a trap, mother." You chided.
"What about the risk that she now asks you take? To fly to the greens stronghold, based on her word alone?—"
"It is a trap, Mother, to lure you and Daemon into Vhagar's jaws." Jace countered.
Rhaenyra moved around the table.
"No! Vhagar and Aemond are gone, they've flown to Harrenhall and Aegon is bedridden."
All of you stood there silently, everyone deeply frustrated that she's unwilling to listen to reason.
"I could take Aegon and the throne.. in a single stroke."
"No, you cannot. Please, do not trust her." Baela interjected.
"Surely, you're not considering this." Ser Lorent muttered.
"The greens know already that their defeat is written. Aemond flies on Vhagar to join Cole in the Riverlands. With him gone Alicent will open the gates to the Red Keep and surrender Aegon to me—"
"I will then take his head and the throne."
You scratched your brow, trying to come up with any explanation as to why she'd consider such nonsense. It was wildly unlike her and unexpected.
Mysaria tillted her head, her lips parting to speak but shutting quickly afterwards.
"What are her terms, your grace?”
"That she, Helaena, and Jaehaera are spared and that this war ends without further bloodshed."
"That is a very low price." Mysaria stressed.
Rhaenyra nodded and turned to Baela, "please get word to Corlys in the gullet. I require ships with fighting men enough to secure the city."
Jace sighed.
"Your grace, I protest this action with all my po-"
"And Daemon must return with haste, write to him." Rhaenyra demanded, cutting Jace off and ignoring his remark.
"We will fly to King's Landing in two days time and take the city." She smiled.
You stared a Jace, his cheeks reddened and his jaw tight with frustration.
Jace stormed off and you followed behind him.
"Jace." You spoke, chasing after him.
He continued to walk ahead of you.
"Jacaerys!" You yelled.
He stopped in his tracks, turning back to you. He grabbed your hand, bringing you into your shared chambers and shutting the door.
"Has she lost her senses?—"
"This is fucking.. nonsense." He stammered.
He paced around the room, his curls hanging in front of his face.
"I do not understand what's gotten into her, father needs to be here— maybe she'd listen to him." You suggested.
"I fear that she has gone past listening to reason." Jace mumbled.
You walked over to him, a smile on your face. His feet stopped and his mind began to clear.
You pushed the curl from in front of his face.
"We will figure this out, remember?"
He nodded, getting lost in your gentle eyes.
He kissed you, completely taking your mind off what you were talking about — wrapping his hands around your waist.
"I know, darling." He muttered against your lips.
Your kiss deepened, his tongue sliding into your mouth and a whine escaping yours.
"Jace, you didn't lock the door."
He smirked, "no one will come in, everyone will be focused on mother."
His lips traveled to your face leaving kisses, your hand rubbing over his growing bulge.
"I have missed this." He confessed.
He left soft, open mouthed kisses against your neck — causing you to moan.
"Fuck." You breathed.
"You're alway so sensitive here." He teased, licking the vein on the side of your neck.
His fingers moved to undo the laces of your gown as yours simultaneously undid the laces on his trousers.
His trousers loosened, your fingers sliding under the waistband— rubbing his hard cock.
He groaned, losing his focus.
"It's been too long.. since I've been able to have a moment with you like this."
You brought your lips back to his with a hum.
The two of you stumbled back towards the desk near the corner, his hand on the small of your back and guiding you.
Your body bumped against the desk, Jace's hand going under your ass— lifting you onto it.
"I love you, my sweet wife."
"I love you more." You breathed, gliding your tongue against his bottom lip.
He pulled at your corset, his hands groping your breasts.
"I want you." You whined.
He caressed your face, "you already have me and you always will."
You pulled up your gown, while he adjusted his trousers.
He lined himself up with your entrance, "don't get too loud, remember the door isn't locked."
You rolled your eyes, "I wonder why?"
He kissed you, a laugh escaping his throat.
The taste of his lips on yours was a taste that you could never get used to.
Jace slowly and gently pushed his cock inside you, making you gasp.
"Gods, you are so wet and tight." He groaned.
Jace was never a rough lover, he was always gentle and went slow making sure that you were okay. He wanted you to feel good, making your pleasure his top priority.
His fingers gripped your thighs as he thrusted into you, his cock stretching like it was the first time.
You brought your hand to the nape of his neck, your fingers curled around it— with pieces of his hair intertwined.
"That feels very good." You whimpered.
"Good, good. I want you to feel so good." He moaned.
His cock was deep inside you, your cunt clenching around him as his head dragged along your sensitive spot.
"Jace." You gasped.
It felt so good, being close with again— even despite the stress.
He brought his hand down, his finger circling your sensitive clit as he got closer to finishing.
Your chest rose and fell fast, moans falling from your lips— music to Jace's ears.
"Oh, oh." You cried out, clenching even harder around his cock.
"That's it my love, finish for me. I know you want to." He coached, his breath mingling with yours. Both of you on the edge and so close to going over together.
His name fell from your lips over and over, your eyes rolling back in your head and you reached you peak— Jace following you immediately after.
He pressed his head against yours, both of you reeling from the intense pleasure.
"I wasn't too rough, was I?" He breathed.
You shook your head, kissing his cheek.
"Not at all, my gentle prince."
A loud knock rang from the door, startling both of you— your eyes wide.
"Jace.. the door." You mumbled.
"Who is it?" Jace asked, his voice raised.
"It's Baela! I need to talk to both of you, there's a problem." She spoke from the hall.
Both of you rushed to get proper before opening the door, "one moment!" Jace shouted.
He tied the laces to your gown, hiding his smirk.
"I would say that was very good, maybe we can do it again tonight."
You laughed, "if you play your cards right."
Jace raced to open the door, an awkward look on his face— Baela eyeing both of you.
"What has happened?" Jace questioned.
"There have been an armada of ships spotted, a war in the gullet."
Jace looked back at you, "they have sprung their trap."
He left out of the room, Baela following him— but you stayed behind in the room.
The once sweet moment between you and your husband, now leaving and you instead are filled with dread.
Jace returned to the room a few minutes later, slamming the door behind him.
"What did she say?" You asked, a panicked look on your face.
"I had Ser Lorent lock her up in her room, with orders to not let her out—"
Your mouth dropped in shock, "you did what?"
"I will not let her get herself killed! She is not thinking rationally. If she gets killed then this was for nothing, we have nothing!"
He walked over to you in two strides, grabbing your hands.
"My love, we can do this for her—"
"We can give her this victory without her risking her life. We have Vermax and you have Silverwing, they won't see us coming."
You gently pulled your hands from his with a look of uncertainty, "Jace.."
He nodded, with that wild smile on his face — the one that he'd always have when he was determined.
"I promise that we can do this, just trust me— okay?"
Your heart thrummed in your chest, a feeling of nausea creeping up your throat.
You trusted your husband, more than anyone else. You just hope that he was right.
You gave him a kiss, letting out a deep sigh.
"Is Baela joining us?"
He nodded, grabbing his gloves from the table.
The three of you made your way to the dragonpit and prepared to leave.
You climbed onto Silverwing, unable to shake the feeling of doing this— worried about what could happen.
You rubbed her back.
"Please, obey me, Silverwing. It is crucial that you do, old girl."
She shrieked in agreement like she always does when you speak.
The three of you took off, flying to give aid.
ꕀ
That day the skies were clear and the wind was calm, the best thing that you could hope for.
"Dracarys, Silverwing." You yelled, flying low so that she could burn a ship.
The three of you seperated, all taking three different areas— burning the enemy ships as effectively as you could.
Unbeknownst to any of you, the bitchfist had a scorpion and with that scorpion they had a large rope attached.
Jace circled around while you and Baela burnt two ships together, Lohar firing the scorpion.
You heard the roar of Vermax, which cause you to look to their direction. Your stomach sank as you noticed the rope and Vermax inching lower towards the water.
"Defend Vermax!" You shouted in High Valyrian.
Silverwing immediately changed course, flying his direction as fast as she could. Baela and Moondancer trailing behind you.
You could hear Jace giving Vermax commands as you inched closer.
Thankfully, there was enough room below them for Silverwing to fly under and let you slice the rope— freeing them.
You felt like you could breathe again.
Your relief was cut short when you saw a different dragon had joined the three of you, burning Rhaenyra's ships.
"Kill the rider, Silverwing."
She flew towards the dragon, a dragon that looked rougher than any you had seen— it also seemed older.
That dragon breathed fire at you as you got closer, causing you to to adjust.
Silverwing circled back around, chomping her jaws.
You got a closer look at the rider, Silverwing scratching the dragon — making him bellow in pain.
"No, Silverwing!" You pulled the reigns, directing her away.
It was Rhaena. How did Rhaena get a dragon? and why wasn't her dragon listening? Why was she burning our ships?
Jace flew closer to you as he also evaded the dragon, the dragon now chasing Moondancer.
"That's Rhaena!" You yelled.
You were at a loss, trying to get away from her dragon and also trying to keep from being hurt by the scorpion.
You burned a few more ships.
They fired the scorpion again, hitting Vermax.
Vermax was going down a lot quicker that time and he seemed very injured.
"Oh, Gods." You mumbled.
Rhaena's dragon had not given up on Baela and Moondancer yet, so she couldn't help.
Vermax was almost touching the water, so you couldn't cut the rope. Silverwing has flown close to water to help before and she always followed your lead.
You watched as your husband struggled, giving commands and Vermax now flapped his wings in the water.
You flew as close as you could, unclipped your belt that held you in and jumped into the water.
The water was ice cold, sending a shock to your body.
You swam as fast as you ever have, pulling the knife from your belt and cutting Vermax's rope— almost cutting yourself in the process.
Cutting his rope was difficult, because he kept trying to move and break free on his— but you did it.
You watched as it seemed like he wouldn't be coming up, but within a second he flew from the water— a roar coming from his lungs.
The water thrashed against you as you came up, gasping for air. You wiped you eyes, staring at all the carnage around you.
You whistled for Silverwing, hoping that she could hear you in the water with all the chaos.
Rhaena was finally able to get her dragon to leave, giving Baela the ability to return her focus to the ships and the two of you.
Jace urged Vermax to turn back towards you to help, Silverwing creeping behind them as she heard your whistle
You grabbed onto a broken board, a sharp pain radiating in your back— making you wheeze.
"No!" Jace yelled, watching it happen as he couldn't get close enough fast enough.
You turned, somewhat disoriented— not understanding that you'd just been shot by an arrow.
Another one was fired off, hitting you in the stomach.
Silverwing screeched in agony as if she herself were being wounded, burning the ship on the way to you.
Your blood spilled out into the water, Vermax unwilling to fly low enough to get you.
Baela couldn't get Moondancer to either.
Silverwing flew near, her wings flapping against the water as she waited for you to climb on.
You winced in pain, raising your arm to climb on her back.
"Help me.. I can't." You wheezed.
She shook, helping your weak body onto her. You crawled into your seat, feeling like your body was on fire.
"Take me home, old girl."
ꕀ
When you got into the dragon pit, Rhaenyra was preparing to leave on Syrax as the three of you arrived. Ser Lorent released her as he began to worry that three of you could get hurt.
Jace rushed to get off of Vermax, running to Silverwing to help you.
You were limp and your breaths were ragged.
"Have you lost your fucking senses?—"
"Why would you ever disobey my orders that way?" Rhaenyra yelled.
Her anger immediately died in her throat when she saw jace running towards her with you in his arms.
"God's what happened?"
Jace cried, "she saved me and Vermax. Please, help her."
Rhaenyra's eyes flickered over the two arrows sticking out of you.
"Baela, get the Maester!" Rhaenyra demanded.
Baela raced out of the dragonpit.
Jace carried you into your shared chambers, commotion ensuing around you as the Maester rushed in to take care of you.
Tears welled in his eyes, seeing you in this state. He almost lost you and very well still could, he could’ve lost you because you had to save him.
Rhaenyra walked in, placing her hand on Jace’s shoulder.
“Are you alright?—“
“Look at me.”
Jace wiped his eyes, staring at his mother and feeling like a little boy all over again— feeling the same way when he heard about Lucerys.
Rhaenyra pulled him into a hug.
“The Maester will do everything that he can to save her, do not fret. She is strong, she is blood of the dragon and she will be okay.”
She took Jace out in to the hall, getting him out of the way while you were worked on. Although she was angry, she would save her scolding for another time.
The arrows did a number on you, the Maesters hoping for your sake that they didn't hit any internal organs.
Luckily, they didn't.
Hours had passed by before they came out of your chambers, Jace still pacing the hall alongside Baela and biting his nails.
The door to your room opened, the servants stepping out with bloodied bandages and bowls of dirty water.
They rushed over, the Maester standing in the doorway.
"My prince—"
"Is she alright? Is my wife alright?" Jace interrupted.
"Yes, she is doing well." He replied.
Jace sighed, the weight on his chest feeling lifted.
He was so glad that you were okay, he needed you to be okay.
"We removed the arrows and handled the bleeding. As of now, we do not suspect that they hit any internal organs. She was given some milk of the poppy and might be out of it for a while, but we expect a full recovery."
Jace hugged Baela in a moment of joy, both of them happy to hear the news.
Jace entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
You laid in the bed, bandaged up— still sleeping.
Jace pulled off his doublet and his boots before crawling into bed beside you.
He gently pulled you closer to him, his head pressed against yours.
"Ow." You mumbled.
He kissed your forehead, "I was worried about you.. so worried."
"I'm okay.. I just hurt, everywhere." You hissed.
He pushed your hair away from your face.
"I could've lost you." He admitted, his voice shaky.
He sniffled, wiping his tears.
"I cannot lose you too.. please, never leave me—"
"I won't. I will be yours until the day that I die, just like I promised." You reassured him, still trying to sleep.
He chuckled, his thumb rubbing against your shoulder.
"You make me feel like the luckiest man alive, my brave wife."
BREAKFAST IN BED ⋆˚꩜｡ spencer reid x girlfriend!reader
summary: you’re sore. spencer’s smug. apparently, breakfast is best served between your thighs.
genre: smut | w/c: 1.7k
tags/warnings: soft dom!spencer, implied semi-rough sex from the night before, reader is sore from said sex, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, spencer calls reader angel/sweet girl/good girl, spencer is a smug little shit, written with later season spencer in mind, basically porn with almost no plot, no use of y/n
a/n: based on this anon request! I am a munch!spencer truther to my core. enjoy!!
It’s the ache that wakes you.
Not sharply, and not all at once. Just a slow, blooming kind of soreness that curls warm around your hips and tightens when you shift — bare skin sliding against the sheets, muscles pulling in places that don’t usually pull. There’s a spot high on your thigh that throbs in time with your heartbeat, and another deeper in your core that stirs when you exhale too hard.
Last night comes back in flashes: Spencer’s mouth at your throat, your wrists pinned above your head, the sound he made when you told him not to stop. A little rougher than usual. A little more. He’d warned you, breath hot against your ear, that he wasn’t going to be gentle, and you’d nodded like someone deprived of air being offered oxygen.
You remember the way his hands shook a little when he touched you afterward, how quiet he got. The press of his lips to your knuckles in the dark, like he still couldn’t believe you gave him everything, no matter how many times you did. Like he couldn’t believe you wanted him that much.
You stretch now, half-heartedly, and the soreness reasserts itself with a wince. You hiss through your teeth quietly.
Spencer is still asleep, one arm slung across your stomach, face buried against your shoulder. His hair is a halo of tangles, his breath steady and warm against your skin. He smells like his usual bergamot soap mixed with sleep and sweat and sex.
You think to yourself that it should be illegal to look that peaceful after doing what the two of you did last night.
Your fingers twitch, tempted to wake him just to say so.
But you don’t have to. A beat later, he shifts — just enough to murmur something soft and incoherent against your shoulder blade and press his nose to your skin.
“Mm,” he hums, a little more awake now. “You’re warm.”
“So are you.” You blink your eyes open and glance over your shoulder back at him. You move again, trying to sit up, and this time the soreness flashes sharp.
Spencer lifts his head and blinks blearily at you. His hair is in his eyes, and he looks younger like this, all sleepy and soft. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, even though your hips are definitely plotting a day of revenge. “Just a little sore.”
He smiles like he was expecting that answer. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
He hums, amused. “Where?”
You give him a look. “Where do you think?”
Spencer grins fully now, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he kisses your shoulder. “You’re welcome.”
You scoff, but it’s breathless. “Cocky.”
“Confident,” he counters, smug. His hand moves, gliding down your side, dragging the sheet with it. “You didn’t seem to mind at the time.”
“No,” you admit. “But I am going to be walking funny all day.”
He tucks his face back into the curve of your neck, voice low and scratchy with sleep. “That’s my favorite kind of damage.”
You laugh, but your eyes flutter shut again as he moves over you and rolls you onto your back. He kisses down your collarbone, a little lower, then lower still. His hand spreads over your stomach like he’s staking a claim, and his mouth follows suit.
“Spence,” you warn gently, though your voice is already going soft around the edges. “You don’t have to.”
“I’m aware of that. I want to.”
You lift your head to look at him. He’s already halfway down the bed, nosing at your hip, lips brushing skin. He glances up at you, hair falling in his eyes, smile lazily forming.
He presses a kiss just below your navel.
“Besides, breakfast,” he says, licking his lips with shameless smugness, “is the most important meal of the day.”
Another kiss, lower.
“And I very much like the taste of you in the morning,” he says, and the grin that follows is pure sin — cocky and sleepy and devastatingly pretty.
There’s no room to argue, not when he’s already mouthing down your thigh, parting your legs like it’s second nature, like this was inevitable from the moment you woke up. His fingers curl under your knees, coaxing you open even further, and he breathes in against your skin.
You brace a hand against the sheets, the other sliding aimlessly into the tangled mess of his hair. “Spencer…”
“Shh.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your knee. “Let me make it better. You said you’re sore.”
“That doesn’t mean you need to—”
“I know what it means,” he says, firmer this time. His voice drops low, smooth and certain. “It means you let me wreck you last night, and now I get to take care of what’s mine.”
That word lands hard, curls low in your belly. You don’t answer — you can’t. You’re too busy trying to steady your breathing. He’s already shifting closer, already locking an arm under your thighs to hold you in place.
You feel the brush of his mouth where you’re still tender and already aching again, and the first drag of his tongue is slow and deliberate.
“So sweet,” he hums softly against you. “You know the average person has up to 10,000 taste buds?” He glances up, breath hot against your skin. “Pretty sure mine were made just for you.”
You squirm involuntarily — too sensitive, too much, too soon — but his grip tightens just slightly, pinning your thighs down with practiced ease. His fingers splay against your hips. You’re not going anywhere.
“Stay still for me, angel,” he murmurs, voice warm and unbearably soft, challenging you to complete an impossible task.
You try. God, you try. But he knows your body too well by now. He knows exactly how to curl his tongue just right, how to flatten it where you’re already throbbing — like he’s learning your body the way he learns languages, through repetition and obsession. Like it’s the only fluency that ever really mattered. He moves with a rhythm designed to undo you molecule by molecule, like you’re his favorite unsolved equation.
“That’s it,” he says against your skin when your thighs start to tremble. “God, you’re so soft like this.”
He noses deeper, then closes his mouth around your clit and sucks, and your entire spine arches off the bed.
“Spence—”
“I’ve got you,” he soothes, licking back up, hand sliding to your stomach to press you down with gentle, unrelenting pressure.
You squirm again, and he catches your movement immediately.
“I said stay still,” he warns, low and firm. You whimper, and he smiles against you.
He shifts one arm to slip a hand beneath you, fingers curving under your ass to tilt your hips higher, and when he sinks his mouth back down and—fuck. Your whole body jerks.
“Too much?” he asks, voice hoarse.
You shake your head, breathless. “N-no. Feels good.”
“I know it does, angel girl.”
It’s not fair, the way he’s still so vocal even with his mouth buried in your cunt — praises every breathless twitch of your hips like it’s a gift, worships every sound you make with a reverence that borders on unbearable. His tongue moves like he’s memorizing you, like he’s been starving, like this is the only thing he knows how to do anymore.
He tightens his grip again and devours you, slower this time, deeper, and you come like that — spread out and trembling, jaw slack, hands fisting uselessly in the sheets. Breaths leave you in broken gasps, and still, he doesn’t stop — licking you through it, slow and thorough, like he’s savoring every drop.
You expect him to pull back once your breathing slows.
He doesn’t.
Your thighs twitch, instinctively trying to close, but he just presses them wider with maddening ease — like your body belongs under his hands. Like he’s barely getting started.
“Uh-uh,” he murmurs, voice rasping with satisfaction. “Not done yet.”
“Spence—” It’s barely even a protest. More like a warning, and he knows the difference. Knows the way your hips buck even as you pretend you can’t take more. Knows that the shaky whine in your throat means please, not stop. Knows you too well to listen when your mouth lies and your body begs.
“You can take it,” he whispers, tongue hot and sure. “You’re gonna give me one more, sweet girl. Yeah?”
You try to argue, but then his tongue flicks just right — again, and again, and again — and your spine bows like a live wire. You nod helplessly.
“You taste so good,” he breathes. “Don’t make me beg. One more, angel.”
He holds you down, murmuring praise between licks, talking you through it in a voice that’s simultaneously achingly tender and overwhelmingly filthy, and you feel yourself unraveling all over again. Your thighs tremble, heels digging into the mattress, and he doesn’t stop. Not until you’re gasping his name on a broken sob, not until your second orgasm rips through you with twice the force, leaving you wrecked and open and shaking.
Only then — when you’re boneless and panting and whimpering beneath him — does he finally ease up. His mouth slows. Softens. Presses one last kiss to your overstimulated skin.
He looks up at you, flushed and glistening and smug, but his eyes are all warmth.
“Good girl,” he says, kissing your thigh again. Then again, higher. “So sweet like this.”
You can barely manage a breath, let alone a sentence.
He grins, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand as he pushes your trembling legs gently back together, palms smoothing over your skin like he can’t quite stop touching you. He crawls back up the bed, gaze sweet and tender, and kisses the corner of your mouth. Then your jaw, then your collarbone, then your shoulder.
“Hi,” you finally manage, dazed.
He huffs a soft laugh, leaning over you to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hi.”
You blink up at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The quiet hums, warm and full.
“You okay?” he murmurs.
You nod, still in a bit of a trance. “Yeah. Yeah, just…”
“Wrecked?” he teases, brushing a knuckle down your cheek.
You roll your eyes in faux annoyance. “Completely.”
He smiles and settles beside you, and you curl into him instinctively.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumble.
“I know. I already told you, I wanted to.”
Your cheeks warm. “Still doesn’t count as a real breakfast.”
Spencer grins. “Speak for yourself. I’m full.”
ᝰ.ᐟ
masterlist
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you ever read one of your old fics and think "damn past self. you went hard on that one. i'm so proud of you." while simultaneously thinking "future self got to get their shit together and actually write something, i mean come on now."
A writer's relationship with their own work goes: this is genius, this is garbage, this is genius, this is garbage, i should never have been born, okay actually this line is good
contains: afab reader, smut, public sex, kinda (?) forbidden love trope, fluff, slight submissive mike
paladin!mike would sneak over to his dear princess’ balcony to make sweet love to her right there and every part of her room. every corner of your room has a reminder of you and him in various positions that you always fail to forget each time you’re alone and missing him.
paladin!mike who gets jealous and sulky when he sees you being courted by different princes to win for your affection.
paladin!mike is the type to get so turned on everytime he sees his princess in pretty night gowns that compliments her features and lets you leave it on when he fucks you.
paladin!mike would bring you flowers and sweet treats everytime he goes out on trips.
paladin!mike would be the type to press kisses along your neck and back everytime you ask him to tie the ribbons of your corsets and dresses.
paladin!mike who’d be so flushed and hot when you offer to massage his sore body and treat his wounds after his trainings and fights. he’d melt when you kiss and gently touch his wounds.
paladin!mike could literally fuck you against the tree after your afternoon stroll with him. he couldn’t even care less how risky it is.
paladin!mike who got so shy when you offered to bathe together as if he wasn’t inside you minutes ago. your back pressed against his chest as you hum songs that almost lull him to sleep.
paladin!mike who yearns for your attention and follows around you like a lost puppy.
paladin!mike who swears to run away with you because he can’t stand seeing you marrying someone else other than him.
this is my first time doing headcannons so apologies for any mistakes 🥲🥲 i fear the world needs more paladin!mike x princess/maiden!reader fics so i decided to put into hands and do it because i #needthat real bad
just a reminder that this blog is run by someone who:
— is anti ICE & fascism
— is pro-choice & feminist
— supports trans & queer people
— hates generative AI & capitalism
— supports immigrants & people of color
— is pro-environmentalism & social justice
— supports palestine & all other territories unjustly suffering
So, I know we know I’ve been saying “I’m coming back” “oh I started writing again”
And I have, truly I have. I have probably like 20+ wips in Google Docs, and one very thought out and basically fully written Jannik Sinner fic in my notes on my phone😵💫
But I genuinely mean it this time. I was scrolling through my inbox earlier today (while supposed to be working cause I’m a big girl now with a big girl job and all that jazz) and I forgot how happy it makes me to share my works and writing and ideas with everyone on here.
So, if any of my followers are still here that sent me unanswered asks of encouragement and praise and sharing how much they love my writing, thank you. Thank you times a million.
Stuck obsessing over/thinking the thought of pwhl/national team player!reader and Quinn Hughes taking on the Olympics together (well sorta). And the reader and Ellen obviously being part of team USA together.
