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sugugasm · 3 months

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☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES

YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .

level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.

☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL

“fuck . .”

toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.

sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.

he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.

his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”

“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”

“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.

jesus.

realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”

“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”

an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.

“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”

“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”

“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.

“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.

strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.

well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.

resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.

the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.

“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”

“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.

down boy.

“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”

toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”

your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”

“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”

“coffee would be great, thank you.”

he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.

you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.

“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”

“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”

you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”

as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”

toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”

you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”

he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”

in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”

“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.

watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”

toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."

interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”

“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”

you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”

“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”

change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.

there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.

he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”

you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”

toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”

“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”

“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.

you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”

“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.

he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”

you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”

“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”

your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”

toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”

you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”

“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.

you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”

“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.

you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."

“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.

“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”

for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”

“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.

“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”

“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”

with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.

you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.

but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.

the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.

never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.

now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.

shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.

“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.

he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.

incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.

“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”

“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”

you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.

toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.

“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”

you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”

“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”

“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”

over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.

he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.

“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”

toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”

“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.

he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.

“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”

you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”

“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.

your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."

“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”

you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.

“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”

you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”

mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”

“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”

he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.

impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”

you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”

your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”

he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.

but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.

so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”

you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”

even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.

more than he ever had.

but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.

even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.

the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.

so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.

taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.

“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”

a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.

“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.

but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.

the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.

and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.

in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.

he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.

when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.

you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.

“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”

toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.

you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.

he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.

afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.

“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”

“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.

it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.

but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.

“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.

wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?

avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.

he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.

he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.

it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.

even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.

he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.

which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.

“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”

he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”

“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”

guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”

“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”

he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”

your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”

“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”

confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”

“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”

he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”

you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.

“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”

he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.

the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.

he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.

dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.

he was a man possessed.

the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.

he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”

“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.

toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.

he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.

“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”

you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.

“someone’s eager, hm?”

breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.

“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.

he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”

true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.

hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”

you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.

“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.

“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.

while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.

you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.

wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.

that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”

“yn you don’t have to -”

“i want to.”

toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?

he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.

that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.

“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —

“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.

almost sweeter than your baked goods.

whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.

“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.

a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.

who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.

yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.

toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.

“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”

“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”

and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.

“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”

“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”

“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.

“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.

for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.

you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.

“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”

“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”

“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.

“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”

“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”

“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.

“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”

he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”

“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”

“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”

“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?

he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.

“you’ve got me.”

and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.

there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.

from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.

cherishing you.

that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.

©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.

#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites/games !#AHHHHH WE HERE #papa toji i luv him #toji x fem! reader #toji x female reader #toji x black reader #toji x black y/n #toji smut #jjk x fem! reader #jjk x poc!reader

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insufferablelust · 2 months

Text

GEVĪ [BEAUTIFUL] Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Two dragons, hatched from the same womb, nurtured by the same hands, yet bestowed with different fates— how do you, rekindle your love for Aemond after he has left you to pursue your mother and brother’s wishes? well he will show you how.

Words counted: 7.2k

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy corruption kink, breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex next to window), Choking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic), Slight angst (mention of fidelity and arguments nothing heavy), Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names (i’m a sucker for those).

Hello! this is my second HOTD character fic, yes this one is smutty too lol, its a filler i wish to post before posting the completed requests, this is NOT BETA’d, because i’m slammed with work so I apologize, however, a friend of mine will try to beta this soon (so it’ll be revised). Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The soft pitter patter sound of your nieces and nephews makes you giggle in delight, their tiny puffy hands clutching the dragon figure, making gestures of flying them around, as they make sounds to imitate the giant beasts. Jaeherys and Jaehaera were playing on your personal chambers, as you hand invited your older sister, Helaena, to have a chat. You have always try and take care of Helaena, even when she is the older one, you hold a strong contentment to make sure she is alright, especially knowing her hardened path with that of your older brother, the King himself.

“Do you have a name for this one, sweet Prince?” You tenderly asked Jaehaerys, taking one of the dragons on the soft fur carpet up ahead of his line of sight, “Sunwyre!” Jaehaerys exclaimed excitedly, making you throw your head back and laugh softly, his mispronunciation have always warmed your heart, the innocent nature of children, their pure conscience, not yet tainted by royally duties, nor know the taste of power, their world filled with imaginary tales, and make-do creatures.

“Your father’s dragon hm? and what about… this one?” You hold another dragon figure now, a bigger one than the last, this one has the color of dark green, oddly reminding you of a certain someone’s dragon. Ah. “Vhagaw!” it was Jaehaera’s turn to answer, a shy quiet little girl just like you once were, but bright and intelligent nonetheless. Your lips curled into a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the adoration of your niece and nephew. You had hopes for them, even through this impossible times, that they uphold the values of their mother, Helaena, more than they do that of your older brother, Aegon.

“Vhagar? uncle Aemond’s dr—“

“Hm, the most powerful one, isn’t that right, Jaehaera?”

Your head snapped backwards as you heard his velvety voice, gulping quickly at the moment you caught sight of his figure, standing tall, leaning against the entryway of your chambers, head tilted, eyes darted to you, and lips stretched in a knowing grin.

“Aemond…”

It has been awhile since you saw him last, having been too angry to bid him farewell when he went on his way to propose a marriage deal between he and one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters. He sought you out for hours leading up to his leave and the days afterwards, yet you always manage to elude him, breaking your regular routine of breaking your fast with him, and retreating to your chambers at the earliest convenience, even strictly telling the guards stationed at your door to never let anyone in, even the Prince himself, not that they can say much if he insisted, but you know if he heard of your hardened resentment, he would never push you. No, not his little sweet sister, the delight of his days, the beacon of his visions, the only decadent part left from his viscous life.

You had spent your days crying inside your chambers, for you know it was selfish of you to be mad at him for doing his duty, but the pain had eaten its way through your heart, gnawing ever so brazenly through your sanity. You had refused to talk to your mother, only limiting few chosen ladies of your maids to be of assistance to you— once telling Alicent that you have no desire with entangling yourself in her business to Aegon’s crowning.

You see, Aemond and you were always inseparable, from the day you were born, he had been so infatuated by the small babe cradled by his mother, someone other than Helaena that he saw his mother doted on, he admitted that he was jealous of the treatment both you and Daeron received, something he never felt from his own mother, but alas your soft velvet nature is incredibly difficult to resist, not by his mother and well, certainly not him. A pretty little thing you are. Always so gentle, docile, never fuss much even as an infant. He would always play with your babbling lips when you talked about your lessons, or how you have dreamed on claiming a dragon of your own.

Your silver locks of hair as the curtain to your beautiful supple face, eyes alike his— lilac with tinges softer, your pink dewy lips… oh the stuff of dreams to him, curve of your neck which usually adorned by the various jewels your mother sought out for you, your enticing figure— growing into a grown Princess that bewitched him beyond belief. You are the epitome of everything he was not and never will be, an angelic dew scented nymph, to his raging soulless dragon.

Growing up with you alongside him was what made his life bearable, even through all the bullying he has suffered by the hands of his own brother, and nephews as well as the petulant ignorance of both of your parents, you made it all somehow possible. You would tend to him, fill his days with the stories and knowledge you have learnt from your Septa, blabbering about the story of the Conquerer’s war in the Dornish region, and fluttering his heart when you speak of your pious upbringing, obviously influenced by his mother.

It was you who cleaned his wounds when Aegon had pushed him too far, it was you who always listened to his heart’s content— during his darkest depleted epoch, it was you who wiped his tears after he was presented with a pig by his brother and nephew, sweet you— who have claimed yourself a dragon, one gentle hatchling when an egg was placed on your cradle. He was wary then, that you too, would cast him away, make him feel small— but alas he had judged you too quickly, for you never do any of his blackest imaginations, instead you would warm him up to your little dragon, a gesture which granted him confidence to later tame the beast herself, Vhagar.

But he had left you. For some other Baratheon girl. He left you to crawl into your hole of despair and insecurities. Damning yourself on what had you done for fate to be so cruel to you. What had you done for the Gods to banish his hands away from your own.

“Sister…”

His tone had been gentle, you looked away as you could not even peer into his eyes for you know he would be able to see the looming tears on your gentle violet eyes, one he had seen in his dreams each night since his return back to the Keep.

“Here, Jaehaerys, how about you play with Sunfyre, hm?” Your voice was shaky, eyes fleeting everywhere but at him, you are desperate to run away, anywhere but here, “Jaehaera, come, accompany your brother with Vhagar, yes?”

“Yes, auntie.”

“Good girl, Jaehaera, my sweet princess.” You kissed her temple lovingly, feeling saddened that you had to pry away from your niece and nephew so soon, but you had to go away, “Helaena, I must go, I shall catch you later during supper, yes?” Your eyes met that of your older sister’s distant ones, who just hummed, as she continued to draw some sketches on her brown paper. You were always grateful for her inquisitive mind, now more-so. Pecking a small kiss to her temple before standing up.

“Little one wait—“ You felt his hands graze the peeking flesh underneath the slit of your gown, the touch was— exhilarating, igniting that dragon fire inside of you once more, yet you paid it no mind, not now, you thought. Heels walking past him, making a beeline towards your reading chamber, the only place where you can escape.

Sighing softly, your eyes shut tight, the memory of his voice, his touch, his look, and even the feeling of his breath so close yet so far away, it makes you shudder. Gods, you think. Even after leaving you astray for days, he still leaves such an imprint on you, as if he had claimed you from inside out, and you have naught but a small grasp on your will to deny him.

You moved aside, setting yourself beside the door as you slowly drop to your knees, head thrown back against the wall— heart beating way too quick for your own comfort, what in the Seven hells—

“I thought I’d find you here…” You jumped slightly at the sound of your chamber doors opening as well as the sound of his voice again, of course he’d find you here, you thought, he was the one that had begged your mother to designated this place to become your safe haven in the first place, he always found your love for Old Valyrian literature to be as magnificent as you are, and had wished to accommodate you with all there is to know— a tutor, the ancient tomes, and the room itself.

“I do not wish to see you.” You stilled your gaze to the balcony far ahead of you, distracting yourself from his overwhelming presence— his voice, his tall lean figure, his musky smell that strongly resembles home for you, and his oh so devoted attention. “You do not mean that…” There’s a pang of guilt when you heard the softness of his voice, yet you ought to scoff and bit your lip instead.

“You know nothing of my wants or desires, brother.” You cringed at the shakiness of your own tone, scolding yourself at your constant reverie of him, making you lost inside your own thoughts, with tongue too numb, and throat too tight, “Why don’t you fly back to your Baratheon girl on Storms End? you ought to be excited to wed her, are you not?” Venom laced your voice, nails digging onto the soft lilac ensemble you had worn today. He chuckled.

How dare he.

“Little one…” He trailed, crouching down beside you, his thumb and index finger reach out to grip your chin softly yet demandingly all the same, you struggled against him, “Ah ah, do not fuss now.”

“Let me go.”

“Look at me, sweet girl, please?”

Sometimes you wish that the Seven could just curse your brother out for a bit, so that you do not have to be subjected to your own weak will against his own domineering charm, you looked up at him albeit reluctantly, oh how have you torn him to pieces with that look alone.

Your eyes are glistened with unshed tears, lips flushed and slightly pouty just as you used to do when you were a child— begging him to stop studying history and to play with you instead, Aemond does not know how does one capable to hold his life in the gentle crook of their palm, but here you are… his precious little sister, the core of his being.

“There you are, pretty princess..” He gently trace his knuckles across your cheek, then down your jaw, neck, and move to tuck strands of your silver locks behind your ears, softly caressing your hair, “What is it that makes you so restless, hm?” You scoffed at his pathetic attempt to sound dumb to your dilemma, knowing he is far too smart to not know.

“You left me, lēkia.” Brother. Your eyes darted away again before he tuts and tugs at your chin once more, “You know I only do what is asked of me, gevī, to help Aegon secure his throne…” Beautiful.

“Yet, you could not have proposed a better deal?” Your gaze sharpened at him, heart tugging tight at your ribcage, suddenly remembering his promise to you when you were once only seven, and then again during every single one of your name day.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven can never deny us.

“Tis’ my duty, sweetling, you know I—“ You rolled your eyes at that, tugging your chin free from his hold but remain your gaze at his own, “So it seems that you have chosen your duty over me then, brother, I should have known I was never more than a vessel to fill your desires with.”

“Left you for a few days, and you run your tongue as you please hm?” You shivered, flush heat spreading through your skin, down to the apex of your thigh, Gods, “Do you deny it, Aemond?” You gulped down your nerves, eyes finding his lips tilted in amusement, his little endeavor has left his sweet girl went feral, it seems.

“A vessel for my desires, you say… little one, how can you be just that when you have me wrapped around your little fingers—“ You were about to retort back, “Ah ah, let me speak.” He grabbed your fingers in his, tilting his head like how he did when you were kids. “All of this, I do for you, as to keep you safe, if that takes me to wed some girl to put you on the throne as My Queen, then tis’ a sacrifice worth my lifetime.”

“How come you do this for me if we shall never be together?” A tear fell from your eyes at last, unable to form other ways to express your distress, “If it is the throne that takes you away from me, I never want it.” You averted your gaze for you know that your brother has always desired Aegon’s throne even before it was bestowed upon the eldest, and he will do whatever it takes go get it as it was his birthright.

“Pretty girl with such pure wishes, you are.” He mused, both hands come up to cusp your jaw, directing your eyes back at him, clicking his tongue, “I will not let you get any less than what you deserve, the realm at our feet with you by my side.” For sure you could never conclude which is sharper, his stare that makes your spine tingle, or his words— full of high promises, one that is dangerous to talk aloud, one that would grant him a harsh slap on the cheek from Mother, one that can cost him his tongue.

“But… Aeg—“

“Do not let that worry your pretty head, little one, just trust me like you always have hm?” His promises were too sweet to resist, the temptation to breach what is beyond the comprehension of your family is too ripe for the taking, you are sure that if either your grandsire or mother have heard of this, you both will never set foot in King’s Landing again, but alas your childhood fairytale always clung to him, his words are inescapable… and well, if he will be damned as the consequences, then you may as well join him, for the world is a dull one without his devotion.

You crack out a tiny smile, one he always cherishes, once it was the center of his boyish infatuation, then it became the only thing other than Vhagar rumble or the promise of the cold hilt of Blackfyre that enlighten his youth, then it became his end goal, your smile— your beautiful oh so sweet saccharine smile. Fuck.

“You know I will always tru—mm!”

The declaration has yet to leave your lips, barely through your tongue when suddenly his breathing fawns over your cupid’s bow, the feeling was exhilarating, his lips—warm lips engulfing your own, gentle at first, like how he had kiss you once, twice, thrice when you were younger— the last one being the night before your sire had died, a day before he set out his proposal to the Baratheons, oh how you’ve missed this— him.

His palm hold a strong grip on the side of your neck, making you gasp and bringing you back slightly down to earth, you didn’t even realize you were floating in the bliss this whole time, “Aem—“ Your sweet voice, he thinks, so soft whimpering his name that the sound is enough to make his breech tighten. Aemond cuts you off by kissing you harder this time, tongue prodding against your lips so you may grant him an entrance to your wet cavern.

When you showed a little resistance through your teasing giggle he bit the bottom of your lip— now red and raw from his ministrations, you mewl deliciously, as he takes his chance to slip his tongue inside, oh, you think, the pressure is so immense, the swirl of his tongue tangling with your own overwhelms you. Aemond explores every inch of you, his thumb grazing at the pulse point on your neck, making you shudder and slightly arch your back to reach out for him, before he parted you both.

“Uh what—“

“Stand up, Princess.” He commanded, holding his hand out to help you up, you tried to stand as steady as you could but there is no mistaking the way your knees wobbled ever so slightly— damn him for making you so weak, Gods.

He spared you no time to muddle with your thoughts before pressing you to the wall beside the door, you whimpered at the sudden force, but he is careful on placing his palm behind your neck to protect your delicate head from the intrusion with the wall. “Aemond, what are we doing?” You asked, eyes glimmering with adoration, admiration, love, lust, fear, anticipation, and everything in between.

He smiled at you, scorching hot sent right to the core on the apex of your thighs, his eye flutter shut before pressing his forehead against yours, his nose also nudged into your own, lips flushed against your quivering one, “What we should have done a long time ago, sweetling.” Aemond moved his fingers to graze against the column of your neck, “Making you mine, in every sense there is, wholly.”

You trembled at that, if it weren’t for his strong grip on your hips and neck, your knees would have buckled and fell then on, you take a deep breath— closing your eyes before entangling your hands around his neck, pressing your lips back to his awaiting red, now tongue and teeth battling in the midst of pure pleasure, hot white whines, and mewls escaped your throat.

Aemond’s arms slipped from his grip on both your neck and hips, crouching down slightly— lips still interlocking with yours ferociously, he hooked them up under the back of your knee before pulling you towards his hips, you moaned through his lips, “Ah!” Wrapping your legs around his back, he effortlessly carry you to the nearby table— places you on top of it, one that so conveniently sat beside the oh so grand window overlooking the surrounding area of smallfolks outside the Keep.

“I have waited years to do this, riñītsos.” He grunts against your lips, you claw at his neck seeking him closer and closer to you, for any space between you felt like a void of infinity— fearing that it, too, will take him away from you again, “to devour you as I please…” He trailed, lips canvassing your skin with heated marks, first the corner of your lips, then to your jaw— oh and your most sensitive part, on the column of your neck. You shivered and let out a wanton whine. Little girl.

“To take you as I want to…” His teeth graze against your pulse as you arch your back, eyes sewn shut, pretty girlish pink lips parted with melodic whimpers escaping them, your skin heated— hands grabby for him, “To make you mine, my little petal.” You gasped as he bites down at the exposed skin, “Aemond!” Your cunt is surely drenching your smallclothes by now, but you spared it no thoughts, for you are too meddled in your blissful paradise.

“When the time comes,” After making his mark, albeit the color is a gentler one than he’d hoped, he grazes his fingers along the silk of your white dress, right atop of where the fabric seal the supple flesh of your breasts, the delectable bud that begs to be caressed, sucked, and worshipped, “Will you let me, hāedar?” His eye glinted at you, so gentle yet ravenous all the same, “Kessa, lēkia.” Yes, brother.

He passionately grunted, pressing his forehead against yours as his nimble fingers unlaced the intricate details of your dress, you are glad that you wore a rather relaxing dress today, for it is not so hard for him to loosen the laces and let it gently fall from your body— the silk pooling at your thigh against the desk, “Gevī.” He muttered as his eyes scanned through your ever so soft skin, from the way your neck is slightly arched backwards from your heavy breathing, your exposed collarbone, to the oh so mouthwatering swell of your breasts. He can feel his breeches tightening to the point of painful tugs, not that he cares much. Beautiful.

“Kostilus, Aemond…” You whimpered when his lips ghosted over your collarbone, “Ah ah, quiet, Princess.” His deep amber voice rattles your spine like no other, “Let me taste you.” He whispered, fingers moving to tug a gentle grip at the reddened and darkened bud on your breasts, “Mmnh!” You moaned delicately, arching your back with your palm flat against the desk behind you, your figure enticing and inviting him even closer. Please.

You bit your lips hard— harder than you should when Aemond engulfed the blood filled buds up to his lips, he goes gentle at first, suckling like small babe would but then he grows ferocious— “Gods!” You yelped as he bit at the hardened flesh, causing you to shiver once more, bucking your hips to try and assuage the building pressure at your cunt, now wet and weeping to be filled. Him… by him.

Aemond did not dare stopping his ministrations, one hand tugging on the other one as he continues to suckle on your nipples greedily, your nails dug through the hard material of the desk but you have naught care to it, for your brother is keeping your nerve ends alive— lit with fire and blood.

“Your purity has always been mine to corrupt, little one…” He trails as he moved to crouch down, his lips also trailing a soft kisses path down your tummy, to your navel before tugging at your dress a tad bit forcefully, as it fell to the floor below, he makes a quick move to release you of your smallclothes, wasting no time to stare intensely at your now exposed fluttery soaked cunt, “My my, Princess… look at you…” He groaned, making you mewl.

“S-stop looking at… me like that.” Your hand moved downward in a shy attempt at covering your now exposed flushed mound, which he clicked his tongue at— as if he is scolding you, and grip your wrist tightly, “You will not deprive me of seeing what is mine, sweetling…” He keeps a hold of your wrist, as you wiggle about, “Your cunt is mine, to taste, fuck…”

“Aemond…” You can no longer hold the wanton sounds originating from your bewildered state, body so flushed with heat and desire that your mind has reduced to blank fuzzy space of just him, him, him.

“Mine to own.” His other thumb move closer to your heat before pressing it softly against the throbbing bud that is your pearl, “I— ah! w-what…” Mix of confusion, thrilling pleasure, and indescribable rush flows through you when you feel the blissful pain from his fingers that had pinched your pearl, you desperately try to keep your moans and tears at bay, however, that proves to be fruitless when Aemond decided to replace his fingers with his mouth. You were done for.

“Slow down! mmnh!” You writhe in his hold, feeling his tongue slide from the fluttering of the silky entrance of your cunt and drags your sweet nectar up against your pearl, the bud thrumming in attention, relishing in the licks and suckle of his sinful lips, “Seven hells, riñītsos…” He let out an sadistic chuckle against your dripping petal, making you shudder, “You open up so beautifully… for me, tastes better than any Westerosi wine.” You clench tightly on nothing, he hummed at the sight. Little girl.

“Please please!” You begged, your body folding, grasping his silky locks on your hand, Aemond looks up at you with so much vigor as he continue working his tongue and lips on your cunt, the constant ah-ah-ah leaves your mouth, filling his ears. Aemond pushes a finger past your flushed opening, “Relax, sweetling, let me in.” He said with faux gentleness.

“I—oh!” Your peachy lips drops and your tongue lolls out at the intrusion of his index finger, curling it up as he inches in, your cunt is tight, tighter than anything— and you are not just any maiden, he thought, you are his sweet little maiden of a sister, “Syz riña.” He hummed against your nub, continuing his earlier work of suckling on your pearl as his finger eases in and out of you. Good girl.

You can only gasp and let out strings of mewls at the feeling, it’s so good, you think, so so so good— it feels better than being intoxicated in goblets of wine, it feels better than any gifts you have ever been given as a Princess of the realm, it feels better because it is given by Aemond, you concluded.

Your lips curled in pleasurable tandem, feeling your cunt clench like blooming flower around him, his lips leave you no choice but to submit to both him, and your upcoming peak. There is a strange yet powerful tugging at the base of your tummy, something about to snap— “Aemond.. I.. Gods, I think—“ You mewled desperately.

He looked up to you then, smiled and chuckled deeply, “Tis’ okay, little one, peak for me.” He urged you, mouth suckling around your peal, biting at the nub almost mockingly, combining with how the tip of his finger right on the spongy part inside you, curling them with purposeful jabs— your only response is a high pitched scream of his name followed by strings of girlish pet-like mewls as your cunt gush around his fingers.

“Good girl, my good Princess.” Aemond cooed, his tongue greedily lapping up the sweet saccharine nectar from the now fluttering oversensitive tightness of your cunt, “Mmh.. c-can’t..” You wiggle from his hold, shaking your head as your body shake with the aftershocks of your heightened pleasures— the feeling is akin to that of when you rode your dragon, Valyx, the majestic red winged creature that bonded with you.

“Shh, I know, too much hm?” Aemond hummed, releasing his finger out of you as your opening winked at him— what a petal of a slut you are, made just for him, pure and ever so decadent—“What did.. what happened, Aemond?” Oh you looked at him so so softly, demure and skittish, shy. Just like a kitten would. He suppressed the way his cock is begging for release just at the sight of your corrupted flushed face, and shivering body.

“You peaked, sweetling.” His voice deepened considerably, as does his lilac eyes, “Peaked? oh… like..” Your hands went to cover your face as you heated up, only for him to click his tongue and grip your wrist tightly, “Ah-ah, no need to be shy, little one. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes but—“

“But no, Princess, from now on you should expect to feel like that from me, understand?” His voice is soft, although strained by lust and his desire to just fuck you then and there, he had to wait though, anything to make you feel more at ease with your body and the pleasure he brings to you. His innocent little sister.

“I suppose that’s okay…” You whispered timidly, which causes his heart to flutter, Gods, he will give you the fucking moon and rebuild Old Valyria from its ashes if it so pleases you, “Did you— did you do that to Floris too?” You asked, eyes are darted to anywhere but him.

He sighed, “Poppet, what are you talking about hm?” You shrugged, oh his sweet angel, always such a possessive little thing you are, knowing what you want yet restricted by your gentle nature, “I have not and shall never give that to anyone but you, my sweet, t’was a deal I myself never planned on following through.” He said, looking up at you— his eyes glinted with nothing but honesty and love for you, you’d know because of the numerous time he had lied on not being in pain after the torment he had suffered at the hands of your own brother and nephews.

“But what about Aegon, and mother?” You whispered, now looking at him, “Won’t they be furious if they knew? wouldn’t it be… treason?” The word leave an acid feeling on your tongue, it feels like you’re accusing him, Aemond knows you better than anyone else though, he knows you mean no foul— it showed you care for him.

“They can voice out their complaints to me when I am King, little one, it matters not.” Your wyes widened at his implication, excitement and thrill oddly runs through your blood at his declaration, Gods, you have no more care for formalities or ideals, not when he is here— not when this is what you can have.

“Brother…” Both of your palms come up to cusp his face, your finger gently peel the eye patch he wears— the movement has his eye fluttering, yet he bears no resentment to your action, only affection, “I want you, take me as you wish.” You are many things, hesitant in your steps— that innocence shines through most of the time, but none came when you said that, only truth and love. Solely devout to him.

Something animalistic flashes through the glint of his eyes, something feral, so driven by passionate affection, devotion, and lust—eternally for you, “As my Princess’s wish.” He muttered before standing up fully to his height, making you crane your head up to look at him. You watched as he tugs his coat and sleeves off, your eyes danced on his pale skin— his sapphire that taunts you with promise of unnerving fealty, and overwhelming dominance.

Exposing his upper body to you, your finger trail a feather light touches to his skin, a tad of your innocence apparent in the way you felt him yet you’re also teasing him with how you press on certain spots, in which he only smiled and chuckled at you—his wanton little slut wrapped in a saint goddess bodice of a Princess— admiring the way his muscles tense, the way his masculine musk penetrated your senses— so his, so so his.

Aemond then tugs his breech loose, letting it drop to the stone floor below— there he is, permeated by the sun shining through the slit of window, all in his naked glory— so enticing, your mouth waters as you gazed him fully— mouth agape, a loud gasp slipped from your mouth as your eyes focuses on the throbbing length of his cock, oh you almost cooed, he is hard—length so full with blood and tension, it looked like it was going to burst, the veins protruding on his shaft, darkened and angry, his tip is flushed a reddish color— thick and inviting, with the opening dripping with his arousal— oh how you would so easily taste him.

Your fingers swiftly went down to grasp his length, thumb about to swipe away the spend on his tip before he holds your wrist—you looked up at him like a child would, he was vastly reminded of a face you’d make as a little girl when he had taken away your lemon cakes just for fun— oh your pouty raw and bitten lips, your puffed out cheeks, your eyes that radiates want want want, silently begging him, Gods, you’d be the death of him.

“Aem—“ You whined like a spoiled little brat you are, oh he’d have so much fun taming the living soul out of you, later though, he thought, “You will get your taste later, little one—“

“But!” You and your stubbornness, he thought, oh but he’ll relinquish in the joy and thrill to break you fully— mould you just for him, “Ah ah no, behave, sweetling. Pouty mannered little girls will not get anything other than denied of their peaks, you do not wish for that, do you? hm?” Your spine shivered at the tone he used, so mocking, making you so small, especially with his fingers on your wrist and the other on your chin— scolding a child—yet the only sound that escaped your pouty lips are soft desperate mewl and whine.

You are so fucking sweet, he was ready to come then and there.

“N-no Aemond… I will be good for you.” You whispered, eyes glassy, lips trembling, he breathes heavily, “Oh sweet dove, shh you will get what you want.” He hummed, moving his fingers to gently run through your luscious silver hair, lips leaving an oh so sweet peck to the crown of your head.

When you nod to his words, he leaned in to kiss you ferociously, his palm move to your hips, bringing you to the edge of the desk as your tongue dances in a fiery battle— well less of a battle when you consider that he dominates you— “Uh!” You moaned as his thick shaft touches the soft pulsing wet folds of your cunt, you’re incredibly soaking the table beneath you by now.

Aemond groaned at the way your cunt is opening up to him, fluttering around the very top of his tip as if inviting— daring him to just slide in, though he restrains himself because this is your first time, he will go gentle, there’re plenty of times to break you later, he mused. “Syz, riñītsos.” Aemond purred deeply, “Ready?” He sweetly gaze down at you and your quivering form, pressing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. Good, little girl.

“Mhm.” You nodded, voice naught but a small whimper, one of Aemond’s palm reach down to grasp yours in his, intertwining your fingers to his— his other hand grip the base of his throbbing length—You let out a loud gasp as you feel him breaching your wet entrance with a swift motion, the tip is in and you cried.

“I-it hurts…” Tears dropped down from your eyes, “Shh, doing so well for me, sweetling.” Aemond cooed gently at you, holding him back from indulging in the feeling of your unimaginably tight tight tight warm wet flowery cunt grasping the tip of his cock— Gods has to reward him for his resilience for he can wait little longed than to come right then and there, you’re intoxicating, too sweet for him and way too fucking tight.

The Prince kissed your lips gently, lovingly as if to ground both you and him, the softness of his lips bringing you back to earth slightly— but mayhaps it was to distract you for what comes next, you wailed loudly as he pushed in more of his length, your cheeks now drenched with tears, chest heaving, and cunt clenching around him ever so torturously, both of your fluids mixing below you, feeling the wetness help him to push in yet more inches, filling you to the brim.

“Full Aem… so full, too big…” You truly ought to send him to an early grave, he thought, “You can take it, my sweet girl taking her brother’s cock like the perfect girl she is.” Aemond cooed against your ear, the praises consuming you whole, the pain from your core gradually subsides as you feel him waiting— you heart warmed at the gesture— he’s waiting for you to be comfortable.

“Please… please continue.” You whimpered, craning your head backwards as he pressed his thumb against your swollen pearl to relieve the pain, “I-ah! fuck me, Aemond.” Your comment might’ve been brazen but he doesn’t miss the way your body shivered at your eyes drooped, lips curled just as you did whenever you revert back to your girlish demure self. Oh his sweet little girl, being brave just for him, his little dragon.

He shushes you all at once, both palms on the either side of your hips as he slowly experimenting by moving his hips backward so that only half of his length is inside of your tight haven, before thrusting back in, deep deep deeply, you both moaned loudly at that, the feeling of his cock in and out, in and out, in and out of you is heightened— you can feel his veins against your walls, clenching tightly— holding him in a vice grip.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Aemond grunted, his hips faltering a bit but keeping a nice steady pace as you mewl, cunt gushing his cock with the pain now dulled and replaced by pure white pleasure, you swear you can feel your ear rings, “Perfect little cunt for a perfect little girl.”

“For you! ah!” The plethora of moans and whiny gasps that left your lips has his head spinning, “Gods made you for me, to be mine.” He possessively growled, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he leaned down to capture the sensitive part of your skin just below your ear and leave a reddish purplish mark.

You can do naught but to take the way he thrusts thrusts thrusts in and out of you, his curved tip always hitting that spongy spot inside you, making you dizzy and drunk— cockdrunk and dumb on him, your lips agape as he continue to nibble marks on your skin, you could care less on how you will conceal that later, too wrapped up in bliss of his grunts and the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“One day you will bear me an—fuck! heir, you hear me little girl?” His thrusts are borderline mean now, hips rutting inside you as if you’re his drug and he cannot deprive himself from your sweet intoxicating cunt, “Yes! Gods yes! as many as you want.”

The sound of the skin slapping inside the room will for sure frighten anyone, especially guards outside the door, but you had hoped that mayhaps someone from the council might able to hear, so that they know Aemond is irrevocably yours— and so that they know you will bear his babes, heirs— none of that arranged marriages for political gains, just you and him, thrumming with the strong bond of Old Valyria, the dragon’s blood danced and merged.

Aemond pulled away from your neck as he looked at you with eye full of love love love, lust lust lust, and adoration, like he would worship the ground you walked upon, and even you knew he would if you asked. At one of your loud mewl, he bring his thumb to rub harsh circles on your pearl making you grip him as you soak him and your thighs even more.

“Mmh Aemond…”

“I know, close aren’t you, Princess?” He taunts you, all the while you do not have the strength anymore to care, for you are so so so close to reaching your peak, utterly desperate for it, “Uh huh, please please please.” Oh you sweet sweet dove, begging him like that, how can he ever refuse you? his beautiful little sister? he might be mean but not so mean to deny you of your peak.

“Shh, little one, I know what you need, you trust me don’t you?” His tone is sickly sweet, mocking and genuine at the same time— your mind having been too fuzzy to comprehend it only let out a muffled whimper, “Mmhm..” He laughed at that, finding you so unbearably cute, just his little dragon wanting to come so bad, it makes him wanna fuck his seed into you more.

“C’mon my sweet, i know you can do it.” He urged you, all of it— the hot breath against your skin, the nibbling, the way he circled your pearl so sinfully, the way his cock impaled you open— all of it is just too much, addictive. “Peak for me like the good little whore you are, hm?” His voice is rough, hips faltering in his pace— obviously holding himself back from releasing into your womb.

“Nnmh, not a- not a whore.” You hiccuped in a high pitch, oh his sweet little girl, he chuckled at you— looking at your pathetic teary eye, cheeks drained— as drained as your cunt is soaking his length, “My little princess, the purest of maidens, the finest of whores, mine, nobody else’s.”

“I- ah ah ah! Aemond!” You clenched your cunt so tight around him as something snap inside of you, the dam broke and once more you can feel yourself hitting that plethora of pleasures— brain fuzzy, only Aemond, only him him him. You peaked— body trashing, and flushed all over for you are unable to control the movement of your limbs and muscles anymore— too drunk on his cock.

“Good girl, shit, my good fucking girl.” Aemond cooed but the harshness of his voice indicates that he, too, is close, “Gonna come too now hm? want that little one? my seed inside you?”

“Yes yes yes, uh huh, give it to me please.” You begged him so sweetly, how can he refuse? after all you’re his little sister, his Princess, he never gave you less than what you deserve, even that one time when you asked to take the remaining berry tart that he wanted so bad yet he let you have it, or that one time you begged him to show you the tunnels inside the paintings, the one that holds Balerion’s skull knowing he’d have to evade Ser Cole, or that last time you asked him to kiss you before he went to Storms-end, anything for you. Everything for his Queen.

“Fuck! Gods you’re perfect, going to make you my fucking wife, I swear it.” He possessively muttered, or more like babbling now— too obsessed with the way you hug him so tight like he’d disappear, or the way your cunt clutch him in a come come come motion. “Give it t’me.” You pleaded, voice so soft it makes his head heady— He simply can’t resist you, “Seven fucking hells.”

Aemond shuddered as he released his spend inside of you, the tip of his cock right against the opening of your cervix, enough to make itself known but not enough to hurt you, never to hurt you, not when it does not bring you pleasure. “Thank you thank you thank you…” Your voice is barely a whimper now, your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parted with your lips lolling out. Sight to behold indeed.

“Shh good girl, my good little girl.” He hummed against you, looking at you with adoration as he slides out slowly— you whined at the loss, already accustomed to being stretched by him, he shushes you one more time as he hold you— seems like you’re a bit gone inside your fuzzy little head.

“My little dragon, so good for me, hm?” He cooed at you, one hand holding you close to him, as his other palm cups your cheek, rocking you slightly, “Come back to me, little one, c’mon, I’m right here.” He whispered, grounding you back down as you hiccuped slowly.

“Aem…” Your voice is barely there but its there, it’s you, and Aemond smiled knowing you are alright, “Here, Princess, did so good f’r me.” He kisses all over your face, making soft pecking noises that has you giggling softly and make an attempt on nudging him away, “Stop.” You whined adorably like a little cat, which he laughed at, “There’s my girl.”

By the way you smiled and blinked at him, he just know that he would give you all 7 realms if you asked, make you his Queen, and demolish all your enemies, so that you shall rule with him— as it always meant to be. The dragons that lived through the dance.

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