Good Girl (Logan Howlett) Nsfw

oh ... my god

Colin Bridgerton Anthony Bridgerton

🤝

Mr. Darcy

trick or treat one-shot collection.

— pairing: jacaerys velaryon x twin!reader

— type: modern!au | (part of a collection)

— summary: jace purchased for you a fun new toy that resembles a jack-o-lantern.

— word count: 1,573

— tags: twincest, oral (f receiving), use of a vibrator, pillow humping, mutual masturbation, handjob, french kissing, lotus position, cumming on stomach, fingering

— tagging list: @emilynissangtr @aemondwhoresworld @cecestea

Once you’ve come in from retrieving the afternoon mail, Jace is almost immediately in your face about it.

“Anything for me?” He asks, towering over you with an eager expression.

You raise a brow as you sift through a couple colored envelopes that look to be junk mail, a postcard from your cousin Laenor with a boat on the front of it, and then you find what Jace must be after: a small black box, wrapped up with tape that has playful pumpkins and candy corn printed along it.

“This?” You ask, gripping it in your hand.

He nods, but you snatch it away as soon as he goes to grab for it, a grin spreading across your lips.

“What do you say?” You ask in a sing-song voice.

He sighs. “Please?”

You pretend to think for a moment, then shake your head, hiding it behind your back. “What do I get if I give it to you?”

He leans over you, pressing the front of his body to yours—his cock jabbing against your stomach.

“What’s inside,” is his simple reply as he yanks it away from you.

Now curious, you follow Jace back to your bedroom, and he nods for you to shut the door behind you.

You do so, watching as he takes a box cutter from a cup that hangs on the pegboard mounted over your desk, and he cuts the small package open.

He dumps the contents of it onto your bed, and you pad closer, looking it over with furrowed brows.

There’s a small instruction booklet, and another even smaller box.

He opens said box, then pops open plastic packaging before dangling something round, orange, and rubber—or maybe silicone—in front of your face. And then he twirls it around with his fingers, and the face of a jack-o-lantern greets you with a smile.

From the tail he’s holding, you’re fairly sure you know what it is.

“A vibrator, Jace?”

He takes a step closer to you. “What? You don’t like it?”

You take it from him, looking it over. And then you click a small button and it lights up and begins to vibrate in your hand, confirming your suspicions.

You glance back to your twin brother.

He nods to your bed. “Lie down.”

You do as he says and he leans over you, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your leggings before tugging them down your legs.

You get to work on removing your shirt and bra, dropping them onto the floor, then spread your legs.

 Jace sits on the edge of your bed and runs his fingers between your folds.

You sigh, throw your head back against your pillows, and he begins to circle your clit with his index and middle finger, and your body jerks in response.

You bite your lower lip, quietly whimpering, and Jace runs his other hand down between your breasts before gripping you beneath one of your thighs. He then grabs your other hip as well, and pulls you closer to the edge of your bed before he kneels on the floor and shoves his face between your legs.

Your eyes flutter closed while you lace your fingers in his curls, pulling him impossibly closer to your hot, pulsating core.

Your twin moans, sucking on your clit, pushing his own pants down to free his throbbing erection.

“Jaaaace,” you drawl, arching your back, grinding your pussy against his mouth and he smirks, kissing your lips before spreading them with his fingers so he can tease you with the tip of his tongue.

It’s when he has you panting and gasping for breath that he finally stops.

Jace stands, and pushes his own pants down his legs before stepping out of them.

He grabs your new toy and rubs it against your dripping entrance before gently easing it inside of you.

Once it’s disappeared entirely—only the silicone tail visible—he grabs the tiny remote that came with it, and he switches it on before adjusting the vibration settings.

He sets it to intermittent, which causes it to buzz for a few seconds before pausing, then pulsating inside of you.

You tangle your fingers in your hair and Jace seats himself on your desk chair, watching you while he strokes his long, weeping cock.

“Oh, God, Jace…” You whisper, keeping your legs spread impossibly wide so he can have the privilege of watching you.

You turn onto your stomach, arch your ass, and shove your face into a pillow while you moan in pleasure.

Jace leans forward, staring at your pussy, pressing the remote again, and the vibration ramps up.

You clench the pillows under you, wiggling your ass, desperate for him.

“You never told me whether you like your present.”

You’re practically drooling when you turn your head and whimper your reply. “I love it.”

He grins. “I can tell.”

You sink down onto the mattress again, shove a pillow between your legs, and you begin to grind against it, wanting for relief, but also wanting to make you and your older brother’s fun last.

Jace lowers the intensity of the toy and you groan in irritation.

You sit up then, keeping the pillow between your legs, and you turn around to him.

You watch him while he watches you, and the two of you can’t help but smile at how naughty what you’re doing really is. But that’s what makes it such a treat.

Curls fall down your naked back while you bite your lip, staring at his cock, before gazing into his eyes.

He stands, padding toward you, and he cups your cheek. “You want to come?”

You nod fervently—your clit now swollen and pulsing from how good it all feels.

He gently pushes you back, tossing your pillow aside, and he lies his body atop yours, rubbing his cum-soaked tip against your pubic mound.

He ramps the vibrator all the way to its highest setting then before pushing the remote onto the floor and crushing his lips to yours.

You reach down, take his cock in one of your hands, and stroke him rapidly.

You wrap your legs around his back, whimpering and whining all the while—kissing him sloppily with plenty of tongue as your free hand roams along his naked form.

He toys with your breasts, runs his hands down your thighs, tugs gently on the tail of the vibrator, then cups your face in his hands while he kisses you passionately before he finally sits up.

He pulls you into his lap and wraps his hand around yours which holds his cock, helping you help him.

Sitting at a new angle shifts the toy inside of you and you gasp loudly, nodding your head while you tangle your fingers in his hair. “Right there. It’s good. So good.”

You press your lips back to his, so, so close to orgasming.

Jace’s cock twitches in your hand and the two of you smile slightly against one another’s lips at the feel.

“Where d’you want me to cum?” He drawls.

“All over me,” you whisper with a giggle.

You bite his lower lip gently, then suck on his tongue, wishing it were his cock buried in your mouth instead—cumming down your throat when he finally reaches his finish.

Maybe you’ll try those new flavored condoms he bought soon so you can happily drool all over him.

You move your lips lower, kissing his neck while he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you move your mouth higher, kissing his forehead while you push hair away from his face.

He slides his hands down to your ass, smacking it gently, and you begin to rock your hips, clenching tightly around your brand new toy, knowing you’re nearly there.

Jace’s balls begin to tighten and he pulls away, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m about to.”

“Me too,” you whisper between wanton whines.

You lie back then and Jace takes himself solely in-hand, stroking furiously overtop of you.

His head is thrown back, and his eyes are closed while sweat beads on his forehead.

You reach down, circling your clit, running your palm down, along the coarse, dark hair that litters his thigh.

“Cum on me, Jace. Please. Please cum all over me. I want it so bad.”

He nods, biting his lips. “Fuck—nearly. God…”

And then he lets out a long, deep sigh and warm, thick cum begins to spurt out the tip of his red cock, landing on your stomach.

You start to giggle happily before throwing your own head back—moaning his name while you orgasm.

You squeeze so tightly around it that your vibrator pops out, landing on your duvet.

Jace quickly kneels yet again, pulling you roughly toward him while he grabs either side of your labia, spreading it apart so he can watch as your cunt contracts wildly.

Once it's begun to calm, he shoves his face back between your legs, licking you, drinking your juices, shoving his fingers between your tight, squishy walls.

You’re only able to bear it for a moment before you ask him to stop.

“Jace, stop. It’s too…too sensitive. Mm, please.”

He kisses your inner thighs lovingly then, his own cock no longer twitching and straining.

He lies down next to you and pulls you into his side.

“At least I know it was worth every penny now,” he mumbles into your hair.

You nod, smiling contently. “It was.”

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] “GOOD LORD” [GENERAL COMMOTION] [BABY CRYING] “WAHHHHHH WAH” [YELLING] “DAMN BITCH SHUT THAT DAMN BABY UP” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOOO WE WOOO [HELICOPTERS] “WE’RE REPORTING LIVE FROM THE SCENE” [EXPLOSION] “MY LEG…MY LEG”

Night Changes

The final chapter and alternate ending to ‘The Other Woman’ series.

Warnings: Angst, mild smut.

A/N: I’m sorry this has taken almost a month but thank you for those who have been patient and are still interested in reading my work. I appreciate you all <3

To set the scene:

On the night of Aegon’s Name Day celebration you choose to leave with Brandon.

He hears your laughter before he sees you, a sound that makes his chest tighten yet warm at the same time. It was a rare sound he’d hear when you had been married, one that barely emanated from your mouth because of how miserable he had made you. His bitter treatment is a mistake that he’s reminded of daily, you no longer reside in the Red Keep— you’re hundreds of miles away in Winterfell, you are no longer his.

“Brandon— stop it” You hum, nudging him away from you as he plants kisses onto your cheek— the scruff of his beard causing your skin to itch.

“Why must I, you’re my wife. Is a man not permitted to show affection to his wife?” He argues, a playful smirk on his lips. You sigh heavily, allowing him to kiss you one last time before you pull away.

“When we’re at home— yes. You may smother me as you please, just try to hold back while you’re here” You chastise him before you link your arm with his.

Home.

The word is painful to hear for Aemond. You refer to that dreaded cold wasteland as home, even more of a sore reminder to Aemond of how far you’ve drifted from him. He wishes the halls of the Red Keep didn’t allow voices to travel so easily, maybe then his heart wouldn’t ache this much.

“Mother! I didn’t realise you had arrived already” A smile clear on your face as you approach Rhaenyra who greets you both with open arms.

You couldn’t say you were surprised that your mother instantly took a liking to Brandon, he treated you beautifully and he was a man of honour— traits that reminded her of Ser Harwin Strong. You watch in admiration as the two of them converse, allowing you to bask in the silence and observe what you had once called home.

You remember running down these halls barely a handful of years ago, picking up your skirts as you raced to meet Brandon at the gates. You had left a vulnerable Aemond in your bed chambers, heart on his sleeve that you would further wound by choosing to leave him and the ruins of your marriage behind. Your wounded heart had been through enough turmoil at the hands of Aemond— you deserved far better. He knew this. Which is why he let you go.

You haven’t returned to Kings Landing since you had practically begged your grandsire to annul the marriage between you and Aemond. You remember that day well, a memory that haunts you from time to time— even when you’re in your chamber at Winterfell.

“I know I ran away— from my duties and responsibilities, but I stand before you to plead for an annulment” You tried to dull the sounds of gasps in the throne room, the murmuring and whispers of judgement causing you to shift in discomfort.

“Annulment?” King Viserys, your grandsire doesn’t look pleased— but less disappointed than you had expected. A good sign, you think. He hums before a chesty cough erupts from him, the first time you’ve seen his illness in person since you had gotten the letters of his well-being.

“Your reasonings for this annulment being?” Viserys questions you, your hands grow clammy as you choose your words carefully— reciting the sentences you had practiced continuously over the last few moons.

“The marriage between Prince Aemond and I caused me nothing but grief. I cannot commit to my marital duties to him, I am not happy. I fear I will be miserable for the rest of my days if this marriage continues” Your words cause Aemond to almost flinch— they were harsher than he had expected but it’s what he deserves. He knows this. Yet if you were to even glance his way you would see the pained expression on his face, tears welling in his eyes almost.

“Most marriages are not for love— one would be fortunate enough to marry who they love but we do it for political purposes and for the sake of this family. To keep our bloodline pure. Your reasonings aren’t enough child” Viserys begins to dismiss you.

“We never consummated the marriage” You state, the judgemental whispers only growing louder at the sound of your announcement. They grow too unruly to the point where your grandsire has to demand them to quiet.

“We falsified the evidence of the consummation” You say truthfully, biting the inside of your cheek as you prepare for an earful. Viserys just tuts before directing his attention on Aemond who stands a mere few steps away from you.

“Is what she says true, my son?” Aemond nods gently, shame clear on his face as he briefly turns to his father. Viserys just exhales heavily before nodding and announcing that he approves of the annulment.

You didn’t linger in the throne room any longer than you needed, you avoided Aemond’s gaze— afraid that if you saw his hurt expression, guilt would consume you. So you didn’t, you left for Winterfell before nightfall and didn’t bother to turn back.

Almost two years have passed since you stood in Kings Landing, and now you had returned a new woman. You no longer wore the Targaryen name— you were a Stark who wore heavy coats and fur, you had grown accustomed to the icy weather in Winterfell and you found it fascinating. The heat here makes your cheeks flush and feel uncomfortable from the warmth. You wished you were back in Winterfell with Brandon— but you mustn’t neglect your family, even if that means facing Aemond again.

“Is grandsire attending the feast?” You question your mother, hopeful that he would be present tonight. You already know the answer when you see the look on her face, she shakes her head and informs you of his illness causing him to be bedridden. You make a mental note to visit him in his chamber after dinner.

You were given time to rest from your long travels before the family dinner. You were grateful for the brief time that allowed you and Brandon to stay hidden in the guest chambers, but now you had to prepare to face your family. This would be the first time since you fled Kings Landing they would see you and you didn’t know what to expect. The worst is all you expect, knowing your family and how dysfunctional they are— you already have your doubts.

“I’m assuming we cannot hide in here for the rest of the stay?” You hum as you adjust your dress, over examining the way you look in the mirror. Despite your insecurities, you admire the way your husband looks in his black attire. He stands behind you, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his body.

“Unfortunately, no” Brandon chuckles, lips finding their way onto the skin of your neck as he plants gentle kisses.

“You will be fine, my love. You are their blood” Brandon reassures you, his presence alone comforting you enough for your ragged breathing to calm. You nod, exhaling heavily while accepting his words. You will be fine.

You should’ve known what to expect. Everyone, minus your own brothers and Helaena, greeted you stiffly. The judgemental expressions clear on their faces as they watched you and your husband enter the room. You knew what thoughts grew behind their eyes, you didn’t need to guess how they felt— they made it abundantly clear from their expressions alone.

Aemond sat where he always did, you cursed at yourself internally for allowing your eyes to travel to him almost immediately the moment you stepped closer to the table. You silently noted the slight change in his appearance, he’s aged slightly— his hair is shorter, cheeks more hollow and jaw sharper than ever— yet his eye patch and scar remained the same.

“How is Winterfell?” Alicent breaks the silence, momentarily stopping her movements of cutting into her food as her eyes gaze into yours from across the long table. No one besides your husband and brothers had spoken a word to you— not even Helaena had uttered anything else besides hello. You were feeling the consequences of your absence now greater than ever.

“It’s as it always is. Cold and draped in snow” Brandon answers on your behalf, his hand caressing yours beneath the table in reassurance— a gesture you’re most grateful for. It saved you from having to scramble together sentences to speak to the woman who had once been your mother by law.

She had taken a liking to you before but the love she has for her children is far greater than anything in this world— you already sensed she had a distaste for you after you had left Aemond behind.

“Glad to see you’re thriving in Winterfell, dear niece. Meanwhile, my brother withers away and becomes less of a man as each day passes” Aegon snickers from across the table, a goblet in his hand and a sly smirk on his face as he eyes you out. His words cause Aemond to finally lift his gaze from his plate— his eye shifting between the two of you.

“In true Aegon fashion— you must always make a fuss at every table we feast on” You tut, a false polite smile on your face as you try to keep this conversation civil. Despite his tone, you didn’t want this to turn sour— you were already frowned upon by everyone in the room— giving in to his shenanigans would only make it worse.

“Is it really a fuss if I speak the truth? Besides, I’m just being a concerned older brother— is there any harm in that?” Aegon hums, chugging back the last of the wine in his cup before he slams his hand down on the table— demanding for more wine.

Your eyes narrow as you watch him closely whilst his wine is being poured. You think he’ll finally shut his mouth and be quiet— that he’ll realise it’s not worth the hassle or effort to stir the pot any more than he has already.

“I would like to make a toast” Aegon announces before he pushes out of his chair to stand— the chair making an obnoxious screech as he moves.

“We should be grateful to finally be sat in the same room again. Our family finally whole…” Aegon continues with his speech, his words growing numb in your ears as you begin to disassociate. Aegon speaks drunken words, you all know what he says doesn’t matter but you allow him to speak them all the same.

“And to my whore of a niece who has finally crawled out from the hole they call Winterfell— I would like to commemorate you for being the first Targaryen to actually let a Stark charm their way into their bed” His words gain your attention immediately, your mouth opens to say something but your words fail you. Your gaze shifts to Aemond’s who is already staring at you, the shared contact causes him to blink at you before he pulls his attention away.

“Mind your tongue when speaking to my wife. Royalty or not, I assure you you will lose it if you continue speaking to her in this manner” Brandon stands, speaking in a defensive tone as he partially shields you with his body. Aegon just snorts, the smirk still gracing his features as his eyes shift onto you.

“You have a perculiar taste in men. Why do they both have a fascination with severing tongues?” Aegon’s snarky comment is a direct jab at the marriage you once shared with Aemond— the threat he made about severing your tongue still makes your heart somewhat ache. Not in the way it used to, it’s just a sore reminder of how miserable the marriage you were once trapped in made you.

“Perhaps because people like you prove some deserve to be severed” You seethe, trying your hardest not to let his words anger you more than they already have.

“You will stop this childish banter at once. Aegon you will sit down and remain silent for the rest of the evening— your Queen and Mother demands it” Alicent breaks the feud between you, her statement causing Aegon to scoff before he slumps back into his seat— only then does Brandon retreat into his own.

“Are you alright, my love?” Brandon questions you, his voice low and face close to yours. You give him a tight lipped smile before nodding, squeezing his hand as a sign of reassurance.

“His words mean nothing, my sweet husband” You hum before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips, a small smile forming on his own at the gesture.

Aemond is sure he feels his heart practically pull apart from the sight before him. Your eyes boring lovingly into your husband’s as you whisper sweet words to each other— he wishes it were him who had protected you from his brother’s insults. He wishes it were him who is comforting you, holding your hand and pressing kisses onto your cheek.

He wants you to look at him just once more at this dinner. He pleads silently for you to notice how his gaze hasn’t left yours since you had locked eyes with him for a mere moment. He convinces himself that you will spare him one last glance. You don’t, instead you and Brandon leave quietly once the dinner has concluded, talking amongst yourselves hand in hand as you make your way back to your chambers.

“Gods, you feel so good” Brandon moans out, the obnoxious sounds of the bed colliding with the wall causing your cheeks to warm at the thought of someone hearing you. If you weren’t in complete euphoria you would bother to tell Brandon to quiet, but you don’t— you allow him to rut his hips into yours noisily as he fucks you.

“My sweet wife. Tell me you’re mine” Brandon’s thrusts quicken as his hand fondles your breast, desperate to feel your walls tighten around him. Only then would he release.

“I am yours. Only yours” You moan out before you press your lips against his— swallowing his grunts and moans as he releases inside of you, the feeling of you cumming around him causing him to reach his high.

Aemond wishes he were deaf or that he had at least bothered to move into another chamber during your absence but he is graced by neither of those options. He wanted to reside in the same chamber so that he would be reminded of you, he didn’t want to forget the memories you shared in these walls— even the ones that made tears fall from your eyes. Unfortunately for Aemond, you and Brandon had been housed in your old chamber which meant he would have to endure listening to the two of you make love.

I am yours. Only yours.

He knows he shouldn’t dwell on what could have been but he can’t help it nor does he stop himself from blissfully imagining it had been him you said those words to. That he was the one who had you a moaning and withering mess beneath him. He’s brutally reminded of reality when he prys his eyes open and questions his sanity as he realises he’s hardened at the mere thought of you. He forces himself to turn over and sleep, despite tossing and turning he would endure the restlessness to fight the strong urges he feels for you.

The following morning, Aemond tries yet again to gain your attention. He hopes you will visit the Keep’s library— so he spends all morning pacing around and aimlessly looking for books you might be interested in. It’s been some years but he still remembers the ones you would read to him, mainly fairytales and children’s books. When that attempt proves to be a waste of time, he tries the gardens— a place you would visit daily. He spends almost an hour there before he leaves in a huff— wondering where else you could be on a day like this.

He doesn’t expect to see you in the training grounds of the Keep, yet there you are sat upon a barrel as you watch Brandon spar with some of the Kights in the City watch. Aemond has to fight a smile that almost breaks onto his face at the sight of you, clad in the attire of your true house— you looked as though you had never left. Never left Kings Landing. Never left him.

“Prince Aemond. Spar with me, I wish to show my mentor how much his work has paid off” Brandon calls him over after spotting him from across the court, Aemond curses under his breath as he feels your eyes trail toward him. Despite his urge to leave, Aemond just nods before moving forward and joining the Stark.

“I have not kept up with my swordsmanship— excuse me for my lack of skill” Aemond apologises as he accepts a sword used for training. Brandon just shrugs and laughs it off.

“This will not be a serious fight, I won’t be much of a challenge” Brandon’s words are a lie, which is proven when Aemond is knocked to the ground for what seems like the tenth time since the sparring started. A part of Aemond hopes that you still cared about him enough to end this match.

“Tell me Prince Aemond, when was the last time you swung a sword? Seems to have been quite some time” Brandon questions, the smirk on his face a clear indication he’s toying with the Prince. Aemond isn’t blind to this but he answers truthfully anyway, hoping you were watching this unfold.

“Two years” Aemond grunts as he pushes back up off the dirt, the sound of their swords clashing rings in your ears and cause you to shudder as you remember the last time these two fought.

“The last time my wife stood in Kings Landing— seems like a coincidence” Brandon tuts, his tone causing you to sigh heavily— tired of his antics that are causing Aemond grief. You had watched enough of your former husband being pushed in the dirt and have his reputation slandered in one sparring match.

“Brandon, my mother has called for our presence. Please end this match” You call for him, the sound of your voice immediately making both men lower their swords. You ignore the way Aemond’s gaze burns on your face, desperation clear in his shameless stare that he wants you to look at him.

Just once. Please just once.

He silently pleads as he watches you talk to your husband as you wait for him to hand back his sword. He holds onto his hope until he watches you turn your back to him and begin to walk away with Brandon by your side. He wondered if he would ever get you alone during your stay, it seems as though it wouldn’t be likely.

“Your Grandsire wishes to host a ball to commemorate our family being united once again. You will attend, it may be the last we will share with the King” Your mother had informed you before calling in the handmaidens to pull together some dresses you may like to wear.

You insist on wearing the dresses you had brought from Winterfell but they seemed too dark to fit the occasion, you would stick out like a sore thumb and you didn’t want any more attention than you had already gained. It wasn’t news to you that word spread quickly that you had returned. The princess who ran away from her family and abandoned her marriage to marry another man. That’s all they care to believe, no one questions why you chose to leave in the first place. No one questioned Aemond for being the reason you left your home and everything you knew.

“Prepare for a tiresome evening” You murmur to your husband before you enter the hall, arms linked together as you pass everyone by and greet those who approach you first. Aemond thinks you look angelic, your deep red dress fits you perfectly as you enter the room— the man beside you is invisible to him. You look ethereal to him, a beautiful sight he should’ve appreciated greater when he had you.

The traditional ceremonies bore Aemond to death, he much rather enjoys the sight of you at the other end of the long table your whole family sits on. You feel his gaze but yet again you do not give in to his presence that demands to be known. You interlace your fingers with Brandon’s as you endure the rest of the speeches, your head almost lulling back as you fight the urge to sleep.

You sprung at the chance to get up and move even if that meant forcing Brandon to follow you onto the floor to dance with you. He was lousy, as you expected— he could handle a sword far more gracefully than he could dancing, but it was entertaining for you to watch him try.

“You should stop staring holes into her, brother. You’ve already suffered enough by letting her haunt you these past two years, no need to make yourself suffer worse by hoping she’ll run back into your arms” Aegon claps his hand on Aemond’s shoulder, causing him to break his gaze away from you and Brandon dancing. He didn’t realise he had been staring so intensely at you, if a sober Aegon could notice then surely others did too.

“I do not wish that. I’m no fool” Aemond mutters, shoving Aegon’s grasp from his shoulder. Aegon replies with a chuckle in disbelief at his brother’s statement.

“Right and I am not a free man who can drink and whore his way through Kings Landing unscathed” Aegon snickers, Aemond just tuts at how hypocritical his statement is.

“You are a free man who can drink and whore his way through Kings Landing unscathed, you fool” Aemond scoffs, averting his eyes back to the sights of you. A small smile graces his features at the sight of you smiling widely, despite it being caused by Brandon— he was grateful to see it.

“You are the fool. This woman not only abandoned your marriage but berated you in front of our father and lords alike when she begged for an annulment, yet you still wish to have her back” Aegon’s words are true, which is most concerning to Aemond. His brother is right, maybe for the first time in his life he believes this.

You broke his heart just as he had broken yours the moment you stepped back into the throne room to ask to annul the marriage. At that point you had been gone for just over three moons, no one in Kings Landing had heard word from you— yet everyone knew where you had fled. When Aemond heard of your return, his heart swelled at the thought that you may have returned to him. That you had realised a life with a Stark was not what you wanted and that Aemond was the one you chose in the end. His hopes were shattered the moment he saw you standing before his father, a slight frown on your face as you confess the very words that still haunt him to this day.

Aemond doesn’t bother continuing the conversation with his brother, he just pushes back into his seat and settles with the fact that he’ll just endure the rest of the evening and hope time passes quickly. You on the other hand are getting flustered by the overwhelming amount of moving bodies around you. You want nothing more than fresh air so you stop your movements before pushing up to talk in your husband’s ear.

“I’m going outside for air” You inform him, declining his offer to join you before you leave him to continue dancing with the others. You wanted a moment alone to catch your breath— to regain your thoughts as you savour some moments alone.

You do just that, inhaling the slightly cold air and enjoying a moment of peace away from everyone in that hall. You attention is captured by the view in the far distance, the vast city you once called home fascinating you with its sights. Kings Landing wasn’t the most majestic place to be, especially given it’s foul reputation but you learned to admire it.

“A princess should not wander alone” A voice of a man you recognise instantly causes your attention to pull away from the view. You feel a lump grow in your throat as you reluctantly turn to face him.

Aemond stands behind you, posture straight and hands clasped behind his back as he stares down at you. You can observe him more closely in this proximity, the closest you have gotten to him since you had arrived in Kings Landing.

“A princess knows how to defend herself. Besides, there’s guards for a reason” You shrug, sounding more nonchalant than you had intended. Aemond flashes you a small smile before stepping forward to stand beside you.

He hesitates speaking, his mouth opening and shutting as he tries to form the right words. A sight that was new to you, when you were married to him it seemed as though he always knew what to say. His sentences were always well articulated and he barely stuttered. You didn’t recognise the man before you.

“Your hair is shorter” You fill in the silence, your comment causes Aemond’s chest to warm at the mere fact you noticed such a detail. It only grows warmer when he feels your fingers brush through some of the silver strands.

“Thought I’d try something new” Aemond hums, savouring the brief feeling of your touch before it’s torn away from him and you pull back— he can’t deny the fact he’s disappointed.

“You haven’t spoken a word to me since you’ve arrived” Aemond changes the subject to a more sore topic, one that causes you to stiffen in discomfort.

“Exchange in words go both ways Aemond. You’ve had ample opportunities to speak to me” You argue back, your point causing him to nod in agreement. He could have easily spoken to you, despite your own personal direwolf being glued to your side— he would’ve risked conversation just to hear your voice.

“I was scared. Scared that you would reject me again” Aemond hums, a serious look in his eye when you gaze into his.

“Is it still considered rejection if you allowed me to leave you in the first place?” You question, satisfied when you watch him fall silent at the fact that you’re right.

“Where is your lover Alys? I haven’t seen her once since I have returned” You watch as he looks off into the distance before he responds.

“I sent Alys away the moment you fled Kings Landing. She returned to her home the morning after you left. I could not bear to have her be a reminder of the marriage I lost— the marriage I let slip through my fingers” Aemond’s words cause the lump in your throat to grow even bigger. This is what you were afraid of, that your presence in Kings Landing would give Aemond some kind of false hope.

“If you had stayed with me I would’ve changed my ways. I would not let you be miserable for the rest of your days” Aemond hums, hurt clear in his tone as he recites the words you spoke the day you asked for an annulment. You should’ve known those words scarred him— the moment they left your mouth you should’ve known it would plague his mind.

“Aemond, you and I both know the words I spoke that day remain true” Your hands fondle with each other, your finger nails digging into the skin of your hands.

“I know. But that doesn’t stop me from wishing we were fated, that our story would have a different outcome” Aemond sighs, turning back to face you as he continues.

“I spend every night in torment, wishing you had chosen me on Aegon’s Name day. I let you go for your own happiness but my own selfishness hoped, prayed that you would return to me” His confession leaves you speechless.

“I am not a godly man but I prayed to the gods that night that you’d have a change of heart. I stayed in your bedchambers well past dawn in hopes you’d come back. That is selfish of me, I’m aware”

“Aemond stop this. Please… save your words” You exhale, growing tired of his attempts at opening an old wound— one that you deemed sealed for the rest of your days.

“I don’t have enough time with you— please let me speak” Aemond’s tone is desperate but he remains calm, barely showing any signs of desperation on his face.

“The more you speak, the more you will hurt yourself. There is no point bringing up the past when I have already moved on” You’re being harsh, you know that but it’s the only way— you didn’t intend on giving him false hope. You knew where this conversation was leading so you figured you’d cut it short while you still could.

“I am going back inside…” You state before you turn to leave him, hoping he would let the conversation die and allow you to return to the hall.

“I have not seen your face nor heard your voice in two years. I beg of you to let me have a few more moments alone with you” Aemond pleads, his hand moving to grasp ahold of yours to hold you in place gently. You sigh heavily before allowing him to turn you around to face him, your bodies are closer in proximity than you intended— than you wished for, but you allow him to hold you there.

“In your absence, I have devoted myself only to you. I have not touched another nor let anyone else plague my thoughts. Only you. I miss you— I need you” Aemond’s grip on your hands tightens slightly, a feeling that causes you to almost pull away.

“You confuse me, Aemond. You let me leave. You told me you wished to see me happy— now you have a change of heart” Confusion is clear on your face as you stare up at him.

“I will admit again that I was a fool for mistreating you. I am a fool again for letting you leave me. I should have fought for you— begged you on my hands and knees for you to stay”

“There’s no amount of begging you could do that would make me change my mind. I love my husband, Winterfell is my home— and the decision I made to leave that night has been one of the best I’ve made” You’re being honest, your words sound bitter but you aren’t saying them out of spite. It’s the truth.

Aemond feels his chest tighten at your words, he should expect it— you’ve made it clear you no longer want him and that you’ve moved on, yet your tone still catches him off guard. He wishes for the woman who used to speak softly to him, who yearned for even a few loving sentences from him.

“You’re being selfish Aemond” You state before you pull away from him to create space between the two of you. A lump grows in his throat at the sound of your words— this is it, he thinks as he watches you turn your back to him to face the view again.

“I am being selfish, I will continue to be selfish as I ask you this” Aemond hums before he continues.

“Will you leave with me? We can run from here. Vhagar will take us anywhere you please— we can start anew, new lives, new names. As long as I’m with you, I don’t care where we go” Aemond says, his hand finding the curve of your back as he watches your face to catch your expression.

Your mouth feels dry as you process his words. You didn’t know how to respond, you were certain of your decision already but still, you didn’t know how to voice it. Despite Aemond’s faults and his wrongdoings, it still somewhat hurt you to see him this desperate for you. Your absence clearly took a toll on him and you felt responsible for how much he’s declined. If you had been the girl you were two years ago, you would’ve fell to your knees and accepted his offer. You would ride on dragonback away with him to where-ever he wanted, he would be enough for you. But you aren’t the same girl you were two years ago, you were stronger than you ever were and Aemond’s grovelling wasn’t enough for you.

“I appreciate that you are trying, Aemond. I have not been blind to your efforts but this isn’t enough” You turn to him, watching as the hope drains from his face the moment the words leave your mouth.

“I will not torment you any longer. I ask that you forget about your fantasies of us running away— they will not come true” You state bluntly.

“I am loyal to Brandon Stark— and him only. He has shown me what true love means and I am happiest when I am with him. Your promises will not change that” You continue, his gaze dropping from yours as he finds interest in the ground beneath your feet.

“I am unapologetic about this but I do wish you will find love. Do not let me plague your thoughts any longer, you should be free to love another” You grasp ahold of his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. His skin feels warm against yours— the feeling of your hand against his causes goosebumps to rise on his skin.

“Forget about me, Aemond. I will do the same in return” You say in finalisation before you pull away from him, sparing him one last glance before you return inside. He stands in silence as he remains staring at the ground, wishing he had said nothing at all. Perhaps that would’ve been better.

You would forget about him and he would forget about you— of your marriage that once bound the two of you together. Now you were nothing, you had no reason to be tied to each other besides the fact you shared the same blood. He would have to settle with that and learn to be content. Aemond questions if he ever will find happiness as you leave him yet again with a broken heart.

—

A/N: Sorry if this ending isn’t as great as I said it would be 😭 Idk about the angst but thank you for reading this series regardless :)

(forgive me for any typos, this was roughly edited)

Taglist <3

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The fact that Anthony can’t stop calling Kate Viscountess?

Because 🗣️🗣️THAT’S🗣️HIS🗣️WIFE🗣️🗣️

The man’s obsessed with her. No less than she deserves.

I know this man is sitting there correcting everyone that refers to “Your wife.”

“Anthony, are you not bothering Kate tonight?”

“Oh, Kate? Do you mean the Viscountess, Benedict??? Lady Bridgerton??? Kate, Viscountess Bridgerton??? The Lady of Aubrey Hall?? My Viscountess?? My lady???”

And Benedict just waits for him to finish with a sigh like, “Yeah. As I said: I don’t know how Kate puts up with you.”

Anthony paused, “Well… I’m sort of quite handsome, I suppose. I think there’s something in that.”

MOTHER IS MOTHERING AGAIN😍😍😍

WHERE YOU ARE. luke castellan

description. almost a year after you and luke breakup, you find yourself in his embrace once more to scratch an itch you can't reach yourself.

includes. SMUT 18+, exes hooking up, fem!coded reader, unprotected p n v, outdoor sex, both r and luke have major attitudes, r is claimed but not specified, a little angsty (they're exes cmon what did u expect), takes place during tlt but no major plot points mentioned; title and inspiration from sunshine by steve lacy

wc: 4.2k+

a/n: as mr steve lacy said, "still will give you dick anytime you need!". ao3 link

There is an itch you can’t scratch.

It’s been there for almost exactly a year, persistent and reminding you of what you’ve been lacking since last summer. You’ve attended to it time and time again, digging into it with all of your might, only to be left semi-satisfied. Never left with lazy eyes, relaxed limbs, and a far away want to do it all over again once you recovered. 

The blame for your lack of satisfaction is placed on your chosen partners. 

Humans, all either far too eager to please or not eager enough. Either too cocky and overconfident, or lacking any and all confidence at all. 

They got between your legs, did the job, but never well enough. They never did it like he did. 

And for the past year, specifically the past few months, you’ve been trying to ignore it. Day by day, when you were forced to coexist with your ex, you attempted to push the feeling to the side. You instead focused on the heat on your skin and the gravity pushing large droplets of uncomfortable sticky sweat down your body, ignoring the way sweat made his skin shine. You buried yourself in work, taking up chores offhandedly mentioned by Mr. D, especially if they would get you away from group settings. 

But then, in the solitude of mindless duties, you had nothing to do except think about Luke Castellan. 

His dark curly hair. His even darker eyes. The way his rounded face had become more chiseled since last summer. The sound of his laughter and the smell of his shampoo. The feeling of his hands on your hips and your waist and your ass and especially between your thighs. 

At the end of the night, you would always fall back and spend a little extra time in the showers, bringing yourself to orgasm after orgasm with hopes that eventually one would give even half of the amount of satisfaction a single orgasm from Luke would. 

Clearly, with the way you’re watching him from across the dining hall with wide eyes, it hasn’t been working. 

“You’re staring.” The pointed voice of your sister next to you breaks you out of your stupor. 

You’re quick to avert your eyes to your plate instead, finding that your food had been picked over, conformed from its original shape and placed in a few different spots so your plate appears as if it’s overflowing instead of losing its contents. 

You don’t bother saying anything in response, instead shoveling a fork full of brisket into your mouth. 

“Just two more days. You can last until then,” she reassures you. 

You’re not sure if you could. 

ㅤ

Only a few minutes later were you sliding almost all of your food into the fire, completely ignoring the rumbling in your stomach. 

Please. 

The rest of your brisket glides into the fire. 

Just give me one more time. 

Your cheese and bread join it. 

That’s all I ask for. 

In goes the fruit and then your plate is empty. 

Someone steps up beside you and you’re about to leave anyway, so you pay them no mind. Not until they speak to you. 

“Hey.” 

Gods, it’s almost pathetic how the simple greeting makes you feel. 

Suddenly, the waving flames of the fire in front of you is the most interesting thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Hey.” 

“What’d you give up?”

Has his voice always sounded like that? Suddenly it’s … deeper. Granted, the last time you spoke to him alone was a year ago. Both of you have matured since then, but in some ways you’re still stuck in your old nature. 

“Fruit. Bread. Brisket. The usual.” 

Even though the conversation is extremely lackluster, you find yourself wanting it to continue. You want to speak to him more. 

Luke hums and it’s only then that you look at him. 

He’s turned to face you now, holding an empty plate in his hand and you wonder: when had he given his offering up? Surely you should have seen it since the fire was all you could focus on during the last minute. Really, you just weren’t taking in any information at all save for the addicting sound of Luke’s voice. 

“And what did you ask for?” His eyebrows lift, his tongue darts out to glide over his lips for a split second. A brief memory of how nice it’d been to kiss him comes back before you can prevent it.  

“You know I can’t tell you that.” You take a step closer to him as you easily fall into this old routine. Tease and tease and throw in a flirtatious tone to beat around the large bush that held a ‘please fuck me’ sign. 

“Telling you my prayer is like telling you my birthday wish.” 

Luke tilts his head, letting his eyes wander to the side for a second before finding you again. The fire reflects in them, adding a warmth to his eyes you haven’t seen all summer. 

He’d been off the past few months, holding a tension in his shoulders and having a clipped-ness to his voice at times. You might be imagining things when you feel as if he’s different—good different—with you. 

“Which you used to do all the time.” 

You shrug. “It was always things you could do for me. I just wanted my wishes to come true.” 

“Oh yeah, like do your chores. All that time I spent scrubbing the bathroom floors for you.” 

A grin finds your lips. “It was a good lesson in responsibility. Right, Luke?” 

When he rolls his eyes, you notice how there’s no malice behind the action. It’s almost too easy for both of you to fall back into your old pattern. 

“Yeah. Sure.” He takes a small step closer to you and if you weren’t so in tune with every detail about him, you wouldn’t have noticed it. “So you gonna tell me what you asked for or not?” 

There’s no point in him knowing, other than to intrude on your life. Unfortunately, you don’t mind the intrusion. 

You stare at him a little while longer, your eyes flickering back and forth between his. Every so often, you let your gaze fall to his lips, only to bring it back up to his eyes like nothing ever happened. 

For a second, you pretend to think about it, falsely balancing his proposal before deciding. 

“I’m good. See you around, Luke.” 

When you return to your table and sit next to your sister, she has the kindness to not say anything about your prolonged absence for only a few moments. 

Then, “Am I covering for you?” 

You delude yourself into believing she won’t have to for a few seconds. And then you catch Luke’s eye from across the dining hall and you sigh.

“Yeah.” 

ㅤ

“Knew you weren’t over me.” 

You stop walking at his words, shoes thudding against the grass. The thunderous roar of the waterfall covers any other possible sound you could’ve created, but Luke never needed to hear you to know when you were approaching. It was a weird intuition thing you never understood.  

“Hello to you too, Luke.”

He turns around to face you, and as expected, he’s wearing a smirk. His arms are crossed over his chest, he’s no longer sporting his camp tee, having replaced the bright orange material with a deep blue hoodie instead. Practically everything about him screams relaxed, his gray sweatpants adding to the ambience that his aura creates—one that says he knew you were going to meet him tonight. 

“We’re way past formal greetings at this point, don’t you think?” He turns back to face the waterfall in front of him when you join his side. “You never used to greet me before.”

“Things change.”

“Yet you’re still out here. That could only be for one reason.” 

You shrug, folding your own arms over your chest. You have nothing to do with your hands yet, and you’ve been flexing them impatiently with anticipation. 

“Maybe I wanted to stargaze. Who knows.” 

Luke doesn’t say anything. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see him staring up at the sky, presumably stargazing like you falsely claimed you were doing. You try to do the same, picking out a few easily recognizable constellations you knew. But it’s only a minute later that you’re caving. 

“Okay.” 

You turn to face Luke. 

He does the same. 

He’s brought a lantern out here and it sits on the ground in front of you both, bright enough to illuminate the side of his face with an orange-yellow glow. 

“Okay?” he asks for clarification. 

Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip for a second as you mull over your words. After tonight, there’s only one more night of camp left, and then you won’t be seeing Luke for another year. There’s almost no repercussions for laying it all out now, dropping your poorly built guard to get what you’ve been craving for a year now. 

“I’m not out here to fucking stargaze.” You sound exasperated as you admit it. 

Luke paints a picture of faux shock on his face. He gasps, splaying a hand out over his chest as his eyes widen. “Really? I never would’ve guessed.” 

Really, his attitude is starting to get on your nerves. 

Your temper flares and you suddenly understand the rage and frustration Clarisse always inhabits. 

“Don’t be a dick.” You try to manifest the negative feelings taking over your mind when you speak, but your tone betrays you. The command comes out too soft to change anything. Too gentle to be real. 

“Thought you liked it when I was a dick?” 

Something you’d told him in confidence last year. Confidence and drunken delusion. The shameless way you were grabbing at his clothes at the time clearly showed your inebriation. 

“Gods, Luke, would you just stop talking and kiss me already?” You take the step closer to him, finally entering his space to get what you want. What you’ve literally been dreaming about for the past year. 

He stops for a second, his eyes flitting to your lips once, twice, and just when you think he’s about to kiss you, his lips part for a different reason. 

“You also liked it when I ta–” 

You do it yourself. 

You expect him to hesitate before giving in, but his response is quick. 

Hands at your hips pulling you closer to him. His head tilting to the side so he can deepen the kiss just enough. His tongue wastes no time entering your mouth, pressing against your own tongue which allows you to taste the slightly off flavor of the root beer he’d had earlier in the night. 

Just like everything else had gone tonight, you two found the rhythm easily. 

You let Luke lead, pressing your chest into his, arching your back when his palm rests right above your ass. 

He kisses you like he wants more, a little over eager as the tip of his nose presses into your cheek with a little too much pressure. And he could take more, you’re offering it to him with the way your hands slide under his sweatshirt and press against his bare abdomen, fingers tracing his abdominal muscles. Luke just refuses to take it. He refuses to go the extra step. 

You huff against his lips, eyebrows furrowing in vexation. 

Luke pulls back from you first. He stares down at you, unmoving, not saying anything and when your brain is clouded like this, you don’t have it in you to try and decipher the storm in his dark eyes. 

When your brain is clouded like this, all you can think to do is speak.

“And for what it’s worth, I’m over you. I’m just not over…” you trail off, not really feeling like a conclusion is necessary to communicate exactly what you’re missing. 

Luke’s laugh is more like a sharp inhale. He cups your cheek with one hand. “And that’s a part of me, angel.” The pet name sounds almost villainous coming from his lips now. It’s too heavily dipped in confidence, dripping with sour arrogance. 

If you weren’t so horny, you would be turned off at the sound of it. At least, that’s what you convince yourself. But there’s very little that Luke could do to turn you off. 

Instead of dwelling on it, you lean back up and press your lips to Luke’s again. 

This time, Luke kisses you how you expected. 

He’s rough, lacking politeness and a little bit of coordination. His hands grip at your ass, pinching the fabric of your pajama bottoms and the fabric of your panties between them. There’s lots of tongue and even more spit, a few moments where your teeth knock into each other’s.

Now that he’s participating how you want him to, there’s not much anticipation. 

Your long sleeve tee is thrown over your head and placed at your feet, the same treatment goes for Luke’s sweatshirt. Your hands glide along each other’s bodies yearningly. You can’t help but start to feel satisfied with what you’re getting, even though it’s close to nothing. 

You’d been wanting to even be in Luke’s vicinity with intentions other than solely platonic—almost professionally—for so long now, so just feeling the weighted heat of his hands on your bare skin is enough to make you sigh. 

It doesn’t take long for both of you to end up on the ground, and after a small dispute about who gets to be on top, you end up on your hands and knees, hips wiggling impatiently as you wait for Luke to make the final move. The one to start the end of the beginning. 

There’s a few prolonged moments where nothing happens. You’re trying to be patient, busying yourself with chewing on your bottom lip and listening to the soothing sounds of water falling, but you’ve been so empty for so long and you really don’t think you can last any longer. 

You look over your shoulder to see Luke sitting on his haunches behind you. Just staring. 

He seems to be stuck in a trance, and just when you start to get a little insecure, Luke spits into his hand and runs his fingers down your cunt, reaching back up to probe two fingers into your entrance to the first knuckle. 

It’s slightly too much of a stretch all at once, and you wince a little, fingers gripping the strands of grass beneath you. 

You think you hear a small apology from him but you can’t tell. Either way, he corrects himself and slowly sinks one finger into your cunt. Already, you’re letting out a drawn out sigh. It comes out more guttural than intended, as if Luke pulled it directly from deep within you as he draws his finger back out, only to plunge it back in. 

His fingers scratch along places you haven’t been able to reach on your own. The tip of his digit strokes along a spot you’d been searching for for months, only having found twice on your own. (Both occurrences can be attributed to pure luck … and sheer desperation)

You don’t have to ask for more. Luke pulls the singular digit out and when he pushes back in, you feel the same stretch from before. This time, it’s more expected. 

You know to let yourself relax to allow him to continue. 

He enters you easily, and he starts to set a pace that hints at his intentions. He isn’t fingering you to prep you anymore, at least that’s not what it feels like he’s doing. His fingers are caressing parts that he only reaches when he wants you to cum. His pace isn’t one of careful leisure. Instead it’s goal searching. 

“Luke,” you start without even knowing if there’s a finish intended. 

He hums distractedly. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

You aren’t above begging at this point. It’s all a means to an end for you. 

But you don’t know if it’s the same for Luke. 

His free hand comes to your ass and he caresses the flesh in a surprisingly tender way. You watch him lean up, and you watch him pepper kisses along your lower back. 

“I’ll get there, angel, promise.” 

And it suddenly occurs to you that Luke is taking his time with you. He’s savoring it all. 

For a second, the carnal desire melts away to reveal something more raw. The urge you used to feel to just talk to him first thing in the morning and last thing at night. The way your insides would flutter when he smiled, or the way everything seemed a little darker when he was down. 

Every emotion you’ve been working to get over for the past few months comes back tenfold in this small moment. 

And then Luke hooks his fingers and you’re brought back to the more debauched side of your circumstances. 

His pace speeds up a little. He introduces his other hand along your clit, singling out two fingers and rubbing wide and slow circles around the bud. 

During your nostalgia filled moment, your body had gotten closer to orgasm. Luke only has to pump his digits a few more times and tighten the circles just enough and you’re digging your hands into the dirt, pushing your hips back into his touch, and arching your back as your muscles tense up and you announce your orgasm, only to let go a few moments later. 

It’s a little more than pathetic how hard you cum. But you haven’t felt the touch from someone other than yourself in a long time. And you haven’t felt the touch of someone adequate enough to satisfyingly please you in an even longer time. 

Your hips twitch back and forth, the muscles in your thighs tense until you ache to relax them, only to repeat the action as waves cascade through your body. Luke is there through it all, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you as he coos gentle words from behind you. 

Your head hands low between your shoulders, but you still hear him coaxing you through it. 

“That’s it … just let it happen. ‘S it’s a big one. You really did miss me, hm?” 

He still sounds smug, but it comes off more affectionately this time. At least, a little less annoyingly. 

You’ve barely let yourself calm down from your orgasm before you’re reaching between your thighs blindly, swatting Luke’s hands away and searching for something else entirely. 

He chuckles, mumbles something under his breath that is definitely snarky, and you’re immediately swearing. 

“Luke, I swear to the fucking Gods, if you don’t fuck me right now I’ll..” 

It’s embarrassing how the meeting of his head and your entrance instantly shuts you up. It’s like a pacifier nestling between your lips, not fully settling into your cavern without a few teasing strokes up and down the plane of your cunt first. 

But the teasing makes it all so much more worth it. Just the first inch makes your eyes roll back. 

It’s so familiar, but in a slightly foreign way. You haven’t had it in so long, but you remember everything you loved about it. 

The way his head stretches you out first, and then comes the rest of him, only a few moments of reprieve before you get to the thickest part of him. The way his fingers press into your skin as he sinks in, exercising as much restraint as he could. The way his tip parts you open, scratching parts of you that have been itching for a while now. 

He’s bare within you, and if you hone in your senses enough you can feel everything. Every ridge and mountain plane and every vein. The way he’s warm and heavy within you, filling you so well you don’t know how you’ve been empty this long. 

It’s like an insatiable hunger has finally been filled. 

You don’t know how you’ll ever go back to being without this. Without Luke. 

By the time Luke has bottomed out, you’re already attempting to fuck yourself back on him. Luke takes over quick enough, digging his hands into the fat at your hips as he drives into you. 

You can feel your ass rippling with each thrust, and you think there’s clapping, too. 

Luke is harsh with it, any tender moments you two had during the night are gone, replaced with fierce thrusts, his cock pistoning in and out of you with an intensity that tells you he wants to cum as badly as you do. 

You have the sudden urge to see his face, to watch his eyebrows pinch together as he cums. You look over your shoulder once more, and sure enough his thick eyebrows are pushed together. His lips glisten in the ambient lighting, pink and plump and parted as he focuses. His eyes don’t leave your ass, trained on where the two of you connect. 

Only a few moments later does he notice you’re watching him, and he casts a look up to meet your eyes. His expression doesn’t change, still as concentrated as it was before. 

Then he tells you, “turn over”. 

You’re quick to comply, barely even having to mourn the brief emptiness before you’re on your back (on the ground but it doesn’t matter at this point) with your legs spread, Luke quickly entering you and resuming his pace. 

He leans down, holding your thigh for leverage with one hand and holding himself up beside your head with the other. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes close and yours do too. 

“‘M close,” he tells you. 

Your hand slinks up to dig into his curls, and like this, you’re allowed to reminisce once more. 

Not one specific memory finds you, but the position is so well known. It’s so intimate, only becoming more so whenever Luke presses his lips to yours. 

It doesn’t cross your mind to tell Luke to pull out. But you don’t want him to. 

You need to feel him, all of him, just one more time. 

So when Luke spills warm cum inside of you, it’s the highest form of pleasure. 

He fucks it into you a little more, a few punctuated thrusts ensuring none of him leaks out, and then the hand on your hip comes between your thighs again. He pulls out, waits, and when you feel something trickle out of you he catches it with two fingers and drags it up to your bud. 

“Can you cum for me one more time?” he asks, voice sweet and gentle. 

Even if you couldn’t, if you were physically unable to, you would still give it a try if he talked to you like that. 

You nod, keeping your eyes pinched shut and licking over your now unoccupied lips. 

“Look at me,” Luke commands. “I wanna see you.” 

Your eyes peel open. You stare up at Luke. And with two more flicks, you cum. 

“Heard you’ve been calling me your ex.” 

You shrug as you pull your bottoms over your hips. Your shirt is already on, but you shake it out a little, trying to get rid of dirt remains that somehow found their way into it. 

“Yeah. That’s what you are.” 

Luke pulls his sweatshirt back over his head before responding. “We both know I’m more than that.” 

“You were more than that. Things change, Luke.” 

When he meets your eyes, there’s something in his gaze. Maybe remorse? 

He licks his lips, shrugs. “They don’t have to. We could go back to how things were before.” 

It’s such a tempting proposition, one you laid with for weeks. Watching the sun set and then watching it rise all in one wake, wondering where things went wrong, trying to fix them in your head so you could get it all back. You treated your breakup with Luke like a mission gone wrong, and that’s where you went wrong. 

You shake your head a little and start to walk away. 

“Goodnight, Luke.” 

His hand catches you around the wrist. He stares down at you, gaze hard and serious. 

“Hey, anytime you need that. Anytime you need me to give you that, you come find me. Okay?” 

Satisfaction flares in your chest as you nod. 

ㅤ

By the time the sun has made itself comfortable in the sky, you’re the last one out of bed. 

You shower quickly, paying extra attention to your knees to scrub the remnants of dirt off of them, and then you’re at the dining hall for breakfast, sliding up next to your sister with striking bags under your eyes and an alluring glow added to your aura. 

She doesn’t say anything for a while and neither do you. Both of you tend to your hunger, slowly setting food into your mouth and savoring the sweetness of the strawberry pancakes. 

Only when nothing is left on your plates but your offerings does she speak. 

“Covering for you tonight again?”

You don’t hesitate at all when you say, “Yep.” 

“You owe me.” She’s trying to come off a little demanding, maybe a little mean. But she looks a little amused. Maybe even happy for you. 

Your eyes leave hers to look across the dining hall, finding Luke already looking at you. 

When you grin in response, sickly sweet and triumphant, you don’t know if it’s towards her or Luke. 

Either way, your reply is the same. 

“I love you.” 

I’M TIRED OF SMUT, I WANT TOOTH ACHING FLUFF AND HEART SHATTERING ANGST.