#Papa I x Reader

[trophyclown]

Please stop using AFAB if you just mean cis female.

I’ve noticed more and more writers are misusing the term AFAB and using it as a shorthand to say the reader is a cis women. This is a bit disheartening to see as the term was coined specifically to include trans and nonbinary people. AFAB is purely a physical description and has no bearing on the gender of the reader. It’s a gender neutral term. So please tag accordingly. Continuing to use it like this just further alienates trans people from a word made to include us. Please, just tag female if that’s what you mean.

[da-rulah]

It would be lovely to have something soft and sweet with primo 🥹

Hmmm... I had an idea that could work. Soft, sweet, lovely Primo. But first, let me ask you a question....

Have you ever wondered where his love of Botany and Horticulture came from?

This was it. This was the day he finally told himself he was going to do it.

Bishop Primo stood in front of his bathroom mirror, applying his dark circles around his eyes and over his top lip after a freshly clean shave. He stared at himself, his long white hair neatly tied back in low ponytail, taking great care with his appearance today. Not a hair out of place, or a spec of face paint where it shouldn't be.

Nerves welled up in his stomach, the kind of ferocious butterflies you can only get when a sense of impending doom is nearing it's climax. But still, he carried on. It had to be now.

He skipped breakfast that morning, too anxious to stomach anything since his stomach already felt so full... Instead, he made his way straight out to the gardens, to the corner he'd been assigned when he put in the request to join the gardening team three months ago. He made a beeline for the bush in the far corner, finally flowering after months of careful coaxing. He'd poured so much time and effort into this little patch of garden, learning so much about flowers and herbs and whatever else he'd managed to cram into the small space.

Using some of his collected tools, he began to clip the fresh flowers from their bush, gently placing them in a basket one after another. He had to pick them today, if not incredibly soon, before they began to wilt again.

"Good morning, Bishop," a voice behind him sang, frightening him to within an inch of his life. He stood up abruptly, dropping the basket and in turn, the flowers onto the floor with a garbled yelp.

"S-Sorella..." he stuttered, trying to recover from his own embarrassment only to fail miserably. Not that you seemed to mind, stood before him holding back a giggle.

"Sorry, Bishop, I couldn't resist..." you laughed, "you're out here early today. Full day?" you asked with a sympathetic head tilt. Often Primo complained to you about having to spend too much time submerged in clergy matters and not where he had been enjoying himself most, as of late - right here, in the gardens.

"Sí, yes, I uh... Much to do, eh?" he lied. He was out here early to try and avoid people, to gather what he needed before he really was due in his first meetings.

"Tell them they work you too hard," you tutted.

"Shall I tell them you said that, or...?" he smirked, teasing you.

"If you like. Got more influence 'round these parts than you think," you winked, turning to take a quick look at the next lot beside his own that you tended to daily to see what would need doing today. Your lot was much bigger, needing more constant care but since this was your duty anyway, it only made sense. You were due to take over Primo's own little corner too, before you were informed he'd be taking care of it. You'd never put him down as a keen gardener before, but you suppose, his thumbs could indeed be green under those leather gloves of his.

"Noted," he smiled, a silence settling between the two of you as it seemed to do a lot. Never necessarily awkward, but... thoughtful.

You found it difficult to keep eye contact with him in these silences. You'd start to blush, your cheeks heating as your eyes got so lost in his. You'd tell yourself it was impossible not to, that ghostly white of one too stunningly bright to ignore. Your gaze flitted to the ground, where you saw his basket and the surrounding area littered with red roses scattered haphazardly. Then you realised, that was your fault.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry!" You dropped to your knees immediately, picking up the basket and carefully refilling the roses one by one as not to lose any petals. They were much too pretty to ruin...

"Oh, n-no, it's fine, Sorella. My fault entirely," he panicked, dropping to his knees in front of you too to help pick them up, until the basket was refilled.

"There, good as new," you smiled.

"Sí, sí..."

Neither one of you got up, still crouched on the ground and locked back into one of those silences again.

"So uh, who's the lucky lady?" you asked, not sure if you truly wanted to know but looking to just fill that stupid silence.

"Eh?" he asked, panicked and confused.

"The roses... Red ones, too. Why else would you pick red roses?" you awkwardly laughed, pointing at the basket in his hand.

"O-oh, they're um... Just... my colour," he lied. While red was a colour he wore often, that most certainly was not the reason for his scurrying about so early to collect them...

"Ah. Well, they're beautiful. I'm sure they'll brighten whatever room you put them in." Primo simply nodded, standing up and brushing the dirt from his robes. You followed suit, naturally.

"Well, I should, um... Get going."

"Of course, Bishop..." you shook yourself from a train of thought that was becoming dangerous the longer you stayed in his presence surrounded by red roses. "Do you need me to do anything on your lot today? If you're so busy, I mean..."

"Oh, no! Quite alright, Sorella. I have it under control, I believe." You knew he did not. He was still learning, and you could tell from here the soil was particularly dry after a few days of warmer weather. But you didn't say anything; you'd just do what needed to be done once he left, and coach him a little more when he had some free time.

"Well, hopefully I'll see you tomorrow then?" you smiled sweetly, "Have a good day, Bishop."

"Sí, sí... Oh, uh, you too, of course," he stuttered, cursing himself for being a fool. You just smiled wider, his little quirks so endearing to you. He bowed his head, as did you, and began to walk back toward the Abbey, leaving you to your duties.

Working in the summer sun all day can take it's toll - especially when you're daft enough to continue to wear your all black habit. When you rolled into your quarters that evening, you were relieved that the stone of the Abbey walls kept your room relatively cool throughout the day, and there was a shower waiting for you that you desperately needed.

You walked inside, immediately removing your veil and letting yourself collapse into the couch for a few moments of rest after being on your feet all day. You lay your head back on the couch back, staring up at the ceiling and willing yourself to get up for the shower you knew you'd dread to get into, but savour so much once under the cool water.

Eventually, you found the strength, sitting up straight and looking in front of you. It was then you noticed the difference in your little apartment... Your stomach flipped, the heat from outside seemingly emanating only from your cheeks while your heart pounded in your chest.

On your coffee table, right in front of you, was a beautiful black vase, a red ribbon tied in a neat bow around its neck...

Filled with red roses.

[sinnerbanshee]

I NEED MORE PRIMO FICS

GIVE ME MORE OF MY OLD MAN DAMNIT

[wolftoken]

Write in what ever format you want this in

Papa Primo with a tatted and pierced partner, including body mods (split tongue)

I don't imagine he's super traditional, but I feel like he'd also be pleasantly surprised at how heavily into their own style his S/O is

(Extra: reader is heavily white goth, but has red jewelry since Primo's color is red)

-your local Primo fucker

a/n: i hope this is ok, i have never written for primo before even in the privacy of my notes app lol

oooh i feel like Primo would definitely appreciate a heavily tattooed and pierced partner. i think he’s also got a few tattoos that he hides under his robe, and rumour has it back in the day he had a sick eyebrow piercing that’s now healed over because he stopped wearing it years ago.

he would love to know the stories behind your tattoos, if they have any, what meaning they may have. he’ll trace his fingers over them gently, pressing kisses to the ones he said “looked like they hurt the most.”

he likes to get you cool earrings/etc all the time. he would love to buy from small business; he says handmade jewellery is always better than mass produced. of course, he’ll get you whatever you want if you ask for it but he’s frequenting local markets and such looking for things to make you smile.

he would love to see you wearing red. i don’t see him as the possessive type but the fact that you’re walking around with his colour just makes his heart swell with pride. and if you get a tattoo for him, even a small one? he’d need Nihil’s oxygen mask in case he passes out from happiness

he’s a bit of an old man about body mods, saying they’re ‘too much’ and then he sees your split tongue and his mind goes south. the things you could do with that, it makes him change his tune real quick.

also you bet he’s gonna be paying for any new tattoos and piercings you want. even if you tell him you can pay, he’s insisting. and he’ll come with you to the appointments if you need him to hold your hand or just be there for you.

[crowberry62]

Caregiver Primo with a little who calls him Nonno? (Italian for grandpa)

Primo being called Nonno

He loves it

He’s never really had the chance to have many relationships since he was so busy being papa

Before he met you and found out about your age regression he never thought about being any sort of paternal figure

He definitely fits grandpa more then dad

He only responds to that now

Also loves hearing you speak other languages when you’re tiny

He would want to teach you other Italian and maybe some Latin

Rubs it into the face of the other papas

Calls you his grand baby

[ghuleh-recs]

It's @leezlelatch's birthday!! To celebrate, I put together a list of some of her greatest hits (in my humble opinion). I need to point out that it is taking every ounce of self-control I have not to just recommend everything she has ever written. If you want to read about sexy papas with FEELINGS, look no further. She writes some of the best Copia (emotional) hurt/comfort I have ever read. Her writing never fails to have me kicking my feet and blushing (and sometimes crying lol). Happy Birthday Leez!! Thank you for sharing your gorgeous words with us!

recs under the cut.

Brightness at the Heart of My Love - Copia x Reader

Nervous about your first time together, Cardinal Copia invites you to dinner.

Copia is quiet for several seconds, prompting you to look back up at him from your plate. He’s smiling very softly, cheeks tinted pink. There’s a sweetness to his gaze that halts your every thought, dazzled by him. There is something about Copia that is so…lovely. His features are harsh at times, stern and shadowed. Like a wraith, he passes through the hallways of the Ministry at twilight, swathed in the black of his cassock. When he dons the crimson cassock, he looks more like red death stalking abroad than the temperate Cardinal you’ve come to cherish. Little does the congregation know that he enjoys the serenity of the gardens before dark. That he often sneaks off to the kitchens for a sweet or to “borrow” some blueberries for his rats. That he’s never seen the movie Titanic because he knows he’ll bawl his eyes out. When he smiles, you understand what love is. Copia is the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

The World We Knew - Terzo x Reader

You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 

Nave of Hearts - Secondo x Reader

Do you believe in love at first sight? Secondo didn't, until he saw you.

Sitting at the very end of a pew, several rows back, you catch his cold stare, nod your head, and smile. Secondo’s fingers dig into the arm of his chair to prevent them from clasping at his chest as his heart begins a frenetic beat against his ribs. His eyes widen, his jaw clenches, and he stares at you so intently, Secondo is sure that you’ll be frightened away by the madness of his expression. Would the Brother sitting next to you catch the menacing glare of the former Papa and warn you away? Away from the angry, bitter old man who stalks the halls in his retirement.  You tilt your head slightly and widen your eyes in a similar manner, a playful smirk on your lips, and Secondo must have made a noise because Terzo glances over at him with a raised brow. The chapel is so bright suddenly, color exploding across the dark paraments and pews. The sun winks off the silver chalice on the altar, watering Secondo’s eyes. The air is clear, and he breathes deeply, overcome by the sudden and desperate need to know everything about you.

Alyssum - Primo x Reader

Life with Primo is a beautiful story told through flowers.

“Alyssum,” Primo’s warmly accented voice sends a butterfly fluttering about your stomach, and you turn to watch as he takes off his soil-stained gloves, laying them casually to the side. “Worth beyond beauty. And you, my petal, are worth far more than any flower I have ever grown.” His lips twitch with a smile. “Sì, you are beautiful as well. Perhaps tomorrow will be purple heather.”

Just a Nibble - Secondo x Reader

Nights with Papa Emeritus II are always interesting.

“Just there, amore,” Secondo sighs, relaxing into the heating pad with a soft groan. You ensure the warmth is placed right along his lower back comfortably so he can rest against the pillows in the shared afterglow of your lovemaking. “Grazie, grazie. Now come to your Papa.” “Come to your Papa, come for your Papa,” you muse with a teasing grin. “So demanding these days, Secondo.” You slide under the covers next to him and squeak with surprise as he hooks an arm around your waist and drags you across the sheets to nestle against his side.

Lust in Your Eyes - Copia x Reader

The Cardinal waits for you in your room…but sometimes, he's impatient.

Abandoning the shelf of records, he sits down on your bed, running his hand across the comforter. With a sigh, Copia falls back, closing his eyes as your scent envelopes him. He turns on his side and follows the pattern of the bedspread with a single finger, a crooked smile on his lips as he thinks about the very naughty things the two of you have gotten up to in this very bed.  He turns his nose into the soft material, taking a deep breath, his mouth falling open slightly. He turns onto his stomach, drawing his legs up as he skims the tip of his nose across the length of the bed, crawling forward until he reaches your pillow. 

𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!

(I think it would be such a nice birthday gift for you to leave a comment on any of these, don't you?)

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Kinktober Day 8: Aphrodisiacs (Primo x Fem! Reader SMUT)

ITS FINALLY PRIMO TIME!! I've been wanting to write a fic for him for so long now but whenever I try it doesn't come out right. So, since I don't have time to obsess over every single detail of the fics I publish this month being perfect, due to the sheer volume of them, I figured this would be a good time to give it a shot. We fuckin this old man tonight, strap in guys, gals, and non-binary pals.

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+, mostly fluff because Primo makes me soft, confessed feelings, weed smoking, consumption of natural aphrodisiacs, reader rides Primo (we gotta be nice to his joints), blowjob, creampie, slight praise, just some good ol' love making, nothing too crazy, they just end up not being able to keep their hands off each other

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

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"My dear, is everything alright? You've barely touched your tea." You were ripped from your thoughts at the feeling of Primo's warm hand coming to rest on top of yours. You blushed, giving him a small nod.

"Yes Papa, sorry, I was just thinking." You admit with a bashful chuckle. He slowly pulls his hand back, satisfied with your answer despite the fact he knew you weren't telling him the complete truth. You had planned this afternoon in hope of finally confessing your feelings for Primo. But, you would be lying if you said you weren't a little distracted by his mere presence. Despite his age and constant declarations that he no longer possessed the same vigor he used to, Primo was still a consummate flirt. His slow and careful movements had you aching for him to touch you; the way his finger would slowly trace around the rim of his tea cup as he listened attentively to you speak, when he would guide you into the greenhouse his hand would hover over the small of your back, his intense gaze trained on your smallest movements left you feeling more aroused with every passing second. When you would spend time with Primo he wouldn't allow you to even lift a finger, despite the fact that it was you who asked for his company. He poured your tea, he had arranged the charcuterie board, anything you needed during your time together he would take care of. You take a small sip of the tea Primo had prepared for you, an herbal blend he had made himself. The drink left you feeling warm from head to toe as you tried to not let your mind wander, despite your excited state, time alone with your Papa was something that should be cherished. You looked over the small board of snacks he had prepared for you; fresh figs drizzled with honey, the finest chocolates you had ever tasted, a small bowl of pomegranate seeds.

"Did you know," he starts with a groan, "that some believe that it was a pomegranate the snake offered Eve in the garden of Eden, not an apple?" You shake your head with a giggle.

"I didn't. Did you know that all of these foods are considered aphrodisiacs?" You rebuttal.

"Maybe I did." He responds casually, shitting you a sly wink that instantly gets you flustered. He motions for you to wait a moment, he stands and makes his way into a back room within his greenhouse. He returns a few moments later with an ornate pipe and small jar of marijuana. He returns to his seat with a sigh, meticulously pinching a good sized amount for him to smoke. He lights the bowl with ease, no doubt from years of practice. The soft haze of smoke fills your vision as he exhales. "Would you like some?" He offers.

"Please." You were hoping this could help dissolve your nerves, leaving you with no space to think of anything else besides the unbridled emotions for the man who sat across from you. You take the piece in your hands, locking eyes with Primo as you bring the end to your mouth. He lights the bow for you, waiting for your signal to stop. You inhaled deeply, the musky, earthy flavor and scent of the herb dominating your senses. Your eyes instantly grew heavy as the smoke filled your lungs, you leaned back in your chair as you slowly exhaled. Primo looks at you with a satisfied smile, watching as your high quelled your nervous fidgeting.

"Now, not that I don't enjoy your company my dear, but surely there's a reason you asked me to join you this afternoon." You could tell by the time in his voice that he had you exactly where he wanted you. You shouldn't have been surprised, he had stayed himself in the past that he's had Siblings fall for him over the years, you were sure that you were no different than any previous admirers. "Surely it wasn't to try and catch the attention of this old man." You can't help but involuntarily wince as he hit the nail right in the head. "Sorella…" he coos, your eyes trailing over to his features at the sound of his gentle tone. "Come here, little one." He pats his lap. As you step closer to him, he takes your hand, guiding you to a comfortable position perched across his thighs. "Tell your Papa what's on your mind, hm?"

"I… have a bit of a confession to make." You chuckle awkwardly. "Papa… Primo," you correct, feeling this wasn't the place for honorifics, "over the time that I've known you I've found myself falling for you. I'm sure you've had plenty of confessions from other Siblings, I know I'm not special, but I can't keep going around pretending that I don't feel this way about you."

"(Y/N)," his finger trails across your jaw, prompting your eyes to meet his. "I never want you to feel like you're not special in my eyes, fiore." He takes your hand in his, it felt as if sparks were dancing across your skin at his gentle touch. "I'm the one who should be grateful for receiving even a fraction of your affection."

"Papa, I…"

"Primo." It was his turn to correct you, shooting you a playful smile.

"Primo," you giggle. "I… I'm not really sure what to say." He pushes some stray hair behind your ear before his arm wraps around your waist.

"You don't have to say anything, my dear." He gives your waist a gentle squeeze. "We were already having a fantastic evening together. I don't see the harm in continuing that… maybe seeing where the night takes us from there." You can't help but squeeze your legs together at the thought. Being so close to Primo like this already had your body going haywire, the aphrodisiacs you had consumed definitely weren't helping either. He smirks at you suggestively as he realizes your ruffled state. Primo packed you another bowl doing what he could to try and ease your nerves. You spent the rest of the evening cuddled up in Primo's lap, the two of you laughing and smoking the night away until you made the mutual decision that your company would be greatly appreciated in his quarters. Primo had one of his Ghouls prepare a fire, the two of you getting nice and cozy on his couch. A little joint was passed between you as Primo hand fed you small squares of chocolate. You wanted to melt into him, the feeling of being fully relaxed paired with your accepted confession clouding your mind with thoughts of only your Papa. "You look absolutely divine in the firelight, my darling." Primo purrs. His arm snakes around your waist, pulling you into his chest. Your face lands in the crook of his neck, allowing you to revel in the smell of sweet incense, damp earth, and herb. You dared to glance up at him, his mismatched gaze finding yours as he felt your eyes land on him.

"Primo," you whisper softly, "can I kiss you?"

"I would love nothing more, cara mia." A smile ghosts over his lips as he leans into you. Primo was so gentle as he held you in his arms, scared as if you would break like a china doll. You let out a satisfied sigh as his lips finally met yours, finally experiencing something you had been dreaming about for a long time. He squeezes your waist, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. The bitterness of his papal paint mixed in with the sweetness of the chocolate you had been previously eating, the kiss quickly becoming more heated. Primo guides you to his lap, your knees sinking into the plush couch cushions as you straddle him. He groans softly as you sink your full weight onto him, you can't help but smirk slightly as you feel him start to grow hard beneath you. He places his hands on your thighs, allowing them to slowly push up the hem of your sundress. He shivers at the feeling of your bare skin under his fingertips.

"Forgive me for being so blunt," he starts with a chuckle, "but you seem to have gotten me a little, eh, excited." He hissed through his teeth as you shift your hips. Despite the fact you could feel his reaction pressing into your clothed heat he was still trying to be somewhat of a gentleman.

"Is there any way I can help, Papa?" You ask coyly. You feel him twitch slightly at the sweet sound of your voice.

"Is it alright if I touch you, fiore?" His fingers squeeze against your thighs.

"Please." You respond breathlessly before his lips crash back into yours. His hands slide under your dress and over the curve of your ass, pulling you as close to him as he could manage. His lips trail over your jaw as he slowly works you out of your dress, groaning in arousal at your mostly naked form.

"You're so beautiful, fiore." He places kisses across your collarbones, holding you firmly by the hips as he listens to every soft mewl and gasp he can pull from you.

“Papa,” You sigh softly, “can I taste you?” He nods, keeping his sultry gaze on you as you lower yourself to your knees. He assists you in pulling off his ceremonial robes to reveal his bare form underneath. He lets out a low growl as you slowly stroke his member in your hand. You tentatively wrap your lips around his sensitive tip. His fingers lace into your hair, his hips bucking slightly as you eased yourself down his shaft. You allowed him to set the pace, moaning around him as you looked up to see the expression of pure pleasure on his face. You pushed yourself down, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat.

“Bene, fiore. So good for your Papa.” He groans as you continue to bob your head. He beckons you back into his lap, you moan with anticipation as you feel him swipe the head of his cock over your entrance. You whine as you slowly lower yourself onto him, your thighs shaking slightly as you fully sit on his cock. You grip tightly onto his shoulders, bouncing yourself at a steady pace. Primo rested his hands on your waist, your arousal dripping down his erection with every thrust. You felt incredible on top of him; the way your ass would jiggle with every bounce, your sweet moans filling his ear, your warm body pressed tightly to his, Primo believed you were a gift from the Dark Lord himself.

“You feel so good.” You groan in his ear. Your moans turn to screams as Primo begins to fuck up int your. His fingers grabbing tightly on your hips, he slammed you down repeatedly on his cock like you were his own personal fleshlight. You felt his thrusts begin to grow sloppy, the moans from his mouth quickly becoming more breathy and almost desperate as he chased his climax. His hips stuttered as his hot cum shot into you. His fingers find your clit, expertly rubbing against the sensitive bundle of nerves that sent your own climax crashing over you. You collapse against his chest, the room filled with the sound of your labored breathing.

“Mi fiore.” He whispers, you hum in response as you nuzzle your face against his neck. “Would you like to spend the night?”

“I would love to, Primo.”

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Tag List: @spookyghostjelly @ramblingoak @kissingghouls @mustluvecho @herripinkle @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @sodomiser @belnovacaine @iamsarahsaysso @ghuleh-recs (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added let me know!)

[noisy-v]

Primo's enjoying greatly the Ministry's secret bathrooms 👀

Full vers. on my twitter as usual

[youwouldntlietopapa]

When Everything's Dark

Contains: Primo x Reader, fluff, domestic fluff, insomnia, family worries, anxiety, etc. No smut in this one, just Peepaw getting some affection and care.

Also available on AO3

____________________________________________________________

The ache in Primo’s back had started to spread. One more telltale sign he’d been awake too long. Pacing or fidgeting in his seat or sat at his desk trying to find solutions to the mountain of problems that he could feel looming over him. All the things that he was supposed to be finished with when he retired. Budgets and Siblings and Ghouls and Ministry bullshit. Instead, it was obviously going to be another sleepless night. Up worrying himself sick. Again.

Even if he could forget the Ministry business, his brothers were still at the forefront of his mind. Secondo, still grieving the loss of his title. Terzo, overwhelmed by the onslaught of responsibility. And Primo was left to try and keep the whole thing from falling apart. Maybe it should have felt routine after a lifetime of playing parent to them both. But, he was ashamed to admit, even after all this time there was a part of him that was angry at how long he’d been expected to pick up after their father, how much of his own life had been set aside to protect them from his negligence. Another night burned at the altar of that man’s selfishness. Another headache blooming behind his eyes. Another barely contained urge to scream.

...

“Please, my love, come to bed.” You’d asked half a dozen times and you’d keep on asking, begging, pleading, whatever it takes to get him to rest. But, again, he shakes his head and gently shoos you back toward the bedroom.

“Don’t worry, fiore mio.” He sighs, patting your hand. His smiles, small and forced. The weight of his troubles and the drag of his exhaustion stoops his shoulders and threatens to crush him. “Rest will come when it comes. For now, it is too loud to sleep.” Primo tapped his temple.

But your grip on his hand is insistent and the gentle tug for him to follow unmistakable. “You know I can’t sleep without you.” In all the time you’ve known him, he’s never been any good at denying you when you look at him with those big, sad eyes. Stepping closer again to tease your fingers through the chest hair poking up past the collar of his bathrobe. “Will you, at least, take me to bed and stay with me until I fall asleep? Please?”

You can see it in his eyes and in the twitch at the corner of his mouth. Both of you know that he is too clever and sees too clearly to fall for such a thin attempt at tricking him into sleeping. What matters, however, is less the attempt than the reason behind it. You’ve asked before and you’ll ask again, because you worry and you care. Because that’s what you do for the people you love most. He can stay up pacing, worrying over his brothers, but he can’t do that without knowing you’ll be awake with your own worries over him. His forehead rests against yours and his eyes slide closed.

“Until you fall asleep.” Primo nods, all too aware that it will be just that. He’ll wait until you are fast asleep and then slip back out, away from where he might disturb you. “Anything for Angelo mio.”

Relinquishing control, he lets you lead him without resistance back to the big, warm bed that you’ve been sharing for a little more than a year already. Routines that had been established even before you’d given up your own quarters entirely made the shift from spending the night to staying forever an easy one, and once Primo sits on the edge of the bed, you fall into the comfort of those routines without giving him much of a chance to protest.

“Sleep or not, will you let me take care of you? You’ll already be exhausted in the morning, why be in pain as well?” You press up against his back, hugging him from behind, and kiss his neck. Your fingers find the end of the tie holding his robe closed, carefully pulling the tie loose.

His warm hands rest softly on yours and he leans back into the pressure of your body behind him. “Ti prendi sempre cura di me.” Primo says softly, lifting one of your hands and kissing your fingers. “Besides, only a fool would try to stop you when you are determined.”

The robe slides off his freckled shoulders without any resistance, and he tosses it onto the chair next to the window. The glass pot of muscle balm he made himself is still sitting on the bedside table where you left it and you scoop out a dollop with one finger. It smells of herbs from the garden, an undertone of lavender, and beeswax. Warming it between your hands, the short wait is filled with soft kisses to the back of his neck and across his shoulders.

“Will you tell me what has you so upset?” It never feels right to pry. Not with him. Primo is and had always been open and honest about most things. Too much experience with silence to care for keeping it any longer. When there were things he kept to himself, it was simpler and typically correct to think he had his reasons. But this had become disruptive beyond the typical.

He lets out a deep breath and the faintest moan when your hands work the balm into his shoulders and down his back. Massaging the balm into his tight muscles. The ache radiating from his lower back finally starts to let go. “The same things as many times before, fiore mio.” He says with a dry smile. “Work, the Ministry, family. But I don’t want you to worry, si? It will pass.”

“Your usual worries don’t keep you up night after night.”

Primo glances back at you over his shoulder, trying to decide if it’s better to accept the truth of that statement or to deny it. “… My usual worries are for my brothers. Not a former Papa and the new Papa.” His shoulders droop and he shakes his head slowly.

“You do know a little something about being both, my love. More than most others ever will.” You offer gently.

“I didn’t take the position from my brother, and I left on my own terms. They are both… così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene.”

“But you do have experience, with more than a little, and with both of them. You have always had their best interests at heart, and they both love and respect you. Perhaps that’s what they really need, just to know that you’re here and that you love them both dearly. That they are always welcome to talk to you.” With the balm worked in, you take a minute to try and loosen the knots in his neck. “You don’t have to have all of the answers, all of the time, you know.”

“No?” He chuckles humourlessly. “Perhaps you tell everyone this. I don’t think they hear the news.”

Any other time, in any other mood, you would have teased him and tried to make him smile. But, right then, all you can think is... he’s right. It’s not just his brothers, it’s everyone. The overwhelming assumption that he will have the answer, that he can fix things, that he will handle it all. It isn’t fair and it isn’t right. If anyone ever deserved a peaceful retirement, it’s him.

“They are both still your brothers. Papa or otherwise. Just as they were when you were Papa. Still Primo. Still Secondo and Terzo.” You lean in close and kiss just below his ear. “That’s who they need, my love. You. That’s all.”

“You’re telling me I overthink too much.” He turns his head just enough to see you.

“It is something you’re very good at.”

He huffs a laugh and tips his head to rest against yours. “Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo.”

“Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no?”

Slipping your nightshirt over your head, you toss it past him, on to the chair with his robe. For a long moment, Primo stares at it, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Marvelling at having someone who gives him such consideration, such care, and such gentleness. Up half the night and listening to his troubles. Still using every little trick short of physically dragging him to get him to rest. When he turns to look at you, you’ve already scooted back onto your side of the bed, propped up on an elbow and holding the covers back for him.

“Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa?” He teases, sliding into the bed beside you and pulling you closer.

Not that there is any resistance from you, already pressing closer. From the beginning, it had been a habit to settle against his chest. Letting the steady rhythm of his heart lull you to sleep. To hear his voice rumbling in his chest like distant thunder. Safe and warm, wrapped in his arms. But, on nights like this, when his thoughts are raging and his body is tense, you shift up higher. Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him protectively. His arms circling your waist with silent understanding and his own private appreciation for the efforts to let him keep his pride.

“You always keep your word, my heart.” You keep your voice soft, stretching to turn off the bedside lamp and letting the darkness envelope you both. “But the bed feels empty without you here beside me. Sometimes I think about the days when you were still touring. I don’t think I could have faced it. Months without you.”

His head tilts just so, pressing kisses against your warm skin. “I take you with me, amore, or I don’t go at all.”

Your leg hooks over his hip, not looking for anything more. Just the comfortable, uncomplicated closeness that you share. A way to keep him grounded while his thoughts are trying to carry him away. The silent mantra behind everything between you. I’m here. I have you. You are safe. You are loved. You are not alone. One hand trails down his back, tracing meaningless shapes, and the other slides up into his hair. Silver and gold spun into the finest silk. Slipping through your fingers like a whisper. Your nails scratching softly over his scalp. Your own personal magic trick to put him to sleep. Primo practically purrs, melting into your touch.

“Once things are more settled, maybe we should go, hmm?” You whisper softly, lips brushing against his forehead before kissing him again.

“On tour?” Even in the dark, you can still hear the smirk in his tone.

“On vacation.”

“Mmmmm… Somewhere warm, si?” Primo’s slow, gentle kisses trail along your collarbone. “With a beach maybe?”

You can’t help laughing quietly. “Is that your way of saying you’d like to see me in the swimsuit you got me?”

“Or less, tesoro.” He holds you a little closer, running his hands over your back, one stopping to rest on your backside. His words coming slower, half slurred as he finally lets himself relax. “A private beach. Just for us.”

“I’d like that.” The soft sound of your nails scratching gently through his hair follows the rhythm of his breath. Even as it slows and deepens as sleep finally comes to drag him under. The rumble in his chest turns into a soft snore and you’re glad he can’t see the smug look on your face at your victory over his insomnia and anxieties.

He stirs lightly, mumbling, not fully awake. “Don’t worry, amore. I stay until you fall asleep.”

You smile to yourself and say a silent prayer of thanks to the Old One for everything you’ve been blessed with. Holding Primo a little tighter, pressing a kiss to his brow, you close your eyes and let yourself follow him into the peaceful embrace of sleep.

“Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto.”

__________________________________________________________

Fiore Mio = my flower

Angelo mio = my angel

Ti prendi sempre cura di me. = You always take care of me.

così lontano da dove mi trovavo. Ed entrambi troppo testardi per il loro bene. = so far from where I was. And both too stubborn for their own good.

Sii gentile con questo vecchio, dolcezza. È da molto tempo che mi preoccupo in questo modo. = Be nice to this old man, sweetness. I've been worrying like this for a long time.

Allora sembra che sia giunto il momento di lasciare che qualcun altro aiuti a portare quel peso, no? = So it seems like it's time to let someone else help carry that burden, no?

Hai paura che non mantenga la mia promessa? = Are you afraid that I won't keep my promise?

Dormi bene, mio principe. Ti amo con tutto il cuore. Sei il mio tutto. = Sleep well, my prince. I love you with all my heart. You are my Everything.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Saving My Fanfiction Work

Due to the recent events in the United States. To clarify the recent events being Trump becoming president of the United States, Project 2025 more than likely going to be integrated. If you are not familiar with Project 2025 I urge you to look it up.

Along with the KOSA bill that has many problems and it has passed the senate now needing the finally vote in the house, which both are majority red. Go here to learn more on why it needs to be stopped and how you can. This is another component that will harm our communities. Go to: stopkosa.com

With all of its harmful plans some of the plans are to take down/restrict internet sites that have LGBTQ+ communities that means communities like the fan-fiction communities/sites in the United States.

I am only giving resources to those inside and out of the US in case they banned sites that hold fan-fiction. Better safe than sorry.

Being that I live in the US the possibly of mine and many others Fanfiction has the possibly of being in danger. Therefore I'm giving you recourses. (I'm not leaving or stopping my writing, I'm here for the fight!)

For those wanting to save my fanfiction, I give you permission to download them off of AO3 and to be used for your personal collection. Meaning, your eyes only. To clarify I’m saying this as others have asked if they could download my fanfic so for those who would like to you can.

If you do not know how to download them many others on online have tutorials on how to download them and add them to our phone libraries.

Here are some links to tutorials:

Downloading Fanfic

Adding to Iphone & Android Library

Adding to Kindle Library - Video on How (On TikTok)

Adding Book Covers (At the bottom) - Good EPUB Cover Changer (I use this)

Types of Files and What they mean

Please stay safe out there! Remember to follow the rules below.

DO NOT share the downloaded file anywhere online.

DO NOT repost the downloaded file under your name.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI, or reposted on any other platform without permission.

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Please stay safe out there friends! I love you so much! Know that there will always people that love you and in for the fight to make sure you are loved!

[sugugasm]

☆ 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.

[fishwithtitz]

ONE MORE DAY TO VOTE! Reblog to spread it wide!

I guesstimated on the lengths for each size, so don’t shoot me, lol.

@copias-juicebox and I are curious!!!

[dodgemaxson]

I LOVE USING THESE FOR ANYONE WHO WANT THEM!

[ohimsummer]

✎ . . .❝ PUSSY PRIVILEGES ARE GONE ❞

— talking about pussy + one mention of “dick privileges”, whiny satoru, poly! satosugu x afab! reader, serial manspreader + sassy man Suguru, black reader in mind :3

“You can’t do this to me.” Silence. “Baby, pleaseee!”

“Nah.,” you scoff. “Over with, pussy privileges are gone, and that’s final.”

“All because I don’t like the nickname?,” Suguru asks besides you, head cocked like a puppy.

You tug at Satoru’s strong hold around your waist. “Yep. Can’t get a kiss, can’t give my boyfriend a nickname. You two don’t love me anymore.”

Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, sinking further into the couch, traces of a pout falling over his face. He sighs. “What’s wrong with just calling me Sugu?”

You fight helplessly against Satoru, ignoring his continuous whining as he pulls you back into his lap. “What’s wrong with calling you ‘Papa Sugs’?”

“You can’t be serious.”

Huffing, with Satoru’s overdramatic and agonized moaning in the background. “Pft. Imma show you some damn serious.”

Suguru’s chuckle, exasperation creeping up the edges. “Sure. You’re gonna ban us from your pussy for…?”

“Indefinitely.,” you grunt, finally prying yourself from Satoru’s grip in his shock at your response.

“Baby!,” he whines, blinking shiny blue eyes at you beneath white lashes. “Baby, I-“

“Ohhh, so now I’m baby?”, you tease, rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t baby when you weren’t kissing me back, loser.”

“It was a joke!” Gojo puffs out his cheeks. “I’m a changed man, I promise.”

“Oh, okay.,” you smile at the knit of his brows. “You’re gonna be a changed man, alright.”

Satoru falls over into Suguru’s lap, stuffing his face into aforementioned man’s shirt and whining a muffled ,”You sooo hate us.”

“Whatever.,” you brush them off with a wave of your hand, heading to the kitchen. “Consider it a lesson in punishment.”

Six days. Just shy of a week before Suguru shows signs of cracking, because Satoru couldn’t withstand this whole thing to begin with. He’d tried everything from begging to gifts to taking your ‘dick privileges’, and then being immediately thwarted with a flick of your vibrator.

“That thing’s gonna replace us?,” Suguru snorts, nibbling the inside of his cheeks.

“It’ll do for now.,” you giggle with a raise of your chin. In truth, it didn’t even come close, but you’re far too petty to admit that.

“Can’t believe that is gonna get more action than me.,” Satoru groans into the pillows. “I’m gonna die at this rate.”

“Good.,” and he jolts up with wide eyes at your response. “I’ll make an example out of you for Geto.”

Satoru drags himself up to pout in your direction. "You could at least call me Satoru, he's the one you're upset with about names."

"No, first names are for boyfriends only."

Suguru lays sprawled out on the bed, legs spread open in retaliation, tapping around on his phone. "Oh? And when did we lose boyfriend privileges?"

"Since just then."

Both men narrow their eyes at you, glancing at eachother before Suguru massages a temple, lids fluttering as his eyes roll to the back of his head. "Fine, we're terrible boyfriends. Happy now?"

You adjust the towel around your chest, and disappear into the bathroom for a shower. "Nope, but I'm glad y'all know."

Ever dramatic, Satoru points an accusatory finger at Suguru. "This is your fault, she didn't take these privileges until you and that whole Papa Sug nonsense!"

"Well, you started it."

Their bickering raises bouts of giggles in your throat. Water spouts from the shower head when you turn the knob, and you tinker for a few minutes to get it to a temperature of your liking. At the sound of your 'ahem', both men go silent.

"First one to join me in the shower gets pussy privileges ba–“

There's a sound of rapid scuffling, Satoru's 'ow!', and then a flash of dark hair as Suguru slams and locks the door behind him.

"Not fair, I fell!," Satoru whines from the other side, jiggling the knob.

"Desperate are we?," you flash your tongue at Suguru as he strips bare.

"Mm." comes his quiet response, not wanting to fully admit this little game of yours was a lot more painstaking than he let on.

"Does that mean I get to call you Papa Sugs now?" Before he can open his mouth, you add, "If not then you gotta get out."

"Yes, kick him out!," Satoru pipes in, door now wide open and you notice the knob is not as attached as it was before.

Suguru sighs, throwing his shirt in Satoru's face before pinching your waist, and he smirks when you give a small yelp. "Fine."

[seiwas]

papa bakugo and the thought that he intently raises his kids in ways to be unlike him.

and when they're older, asking serious questions about parenting like: why did you make sure we were friends with everyone on the playground? why did you always have to step away when you were mad? how come you don't like us seeing videos of you when you were younger?

he tells them it's because he never wanted them to turn out like him—that leading by example has always been more effective, and he wasn't exactly the best example back then. still doesn't feel like he is now but he's trying (at least, that's what you say, and it must count for something).

and his kids are confused because what does he mean he isn't the best example? all they want is to be like him.

they want the same fire, the dedication he puts in day in and day out; how he only ever gives his best and never backs down. one of the greatest lessons they've learnt from their papa is that a promise is a promise and you deliver on it. no matter what.

they want the same balance he's achieved, making time for both work and his family but especially his family—how they've never once felt second in his life; how he's managed to show up to every game, every performance like the superdad he is. and even when he doesn't make it for the entire thing, you can bet he's rushing in, all soot-covered and polo unbuttoned with the base of his suit underneath.

(you never told your kids, but on katsuki's 14th father's day, you held him while he cried, tears of relief from his eyes. he was watching their surprise, a day-in-the-life reenactment video of pro-dad bakugo katsuki, starring the kids and you).

they want to love the way he loves them, the way he loves you—attentive and all-in because bakugo katsuki never half-asses anything. he adds personal touches to each plate of breakfast he cooks: bear pancakes for his little girl, egg done scrambled and another sunny-side up for his two boys. and you always insist on having what he's having because you don't want to add to the hassle, but he knows your signature morning drink and serves it right by the plate beside his, always yours.

you always tell him that having your kids turn out like him now is all you could ever want, and he always scoffs, tuts and laughs like it can't possibly be true. but maybe if your kids tell him now, that they want to be just like their papa, he'll believe it—all the good in him that everyone sees but he can't seem to.

you hope he doesn't see it as a bad thing—that his kids have grown and chosen to in the shape of him.

[ghuleh-recs]

In honor of her birthday, I made us a ramblingoak mixtape. A Greatest Hits Vol. I, if you will. Oak is a gift and our fandom is incredibly lucky to have her. I could wax poetic about her work all day. It's often actually laugh-out-loud hilarious, scorchingly hot, and/or achingly beautiful. Not only is her writing immaculate, she is also an incredibly kind and funny human. Happy Birthday, Oak! Thank you for sharing your words with us!!

(rec list of absolute bangers under the cut)

The Cardinal's Bride (Cardinal Copia x Female Reader)A Romantic Adventure in the Old West: After being forced into a marriage with Mr. Saltarian by your father you are sent west to his estate in Nevada. Along the way you end up meeting one of the cowboys you have always fantasized about… (full rec here)

The Morningstar (Terzo x Female Reader)Stealing from cowboys was easy, but you might have met your match in The Morningstar… (set in the same AU as The Cardinal’s Bride)

Sap (Secondo x GN Reader)Prep for a ritual has kept you away from your Papa and you both are feeling the strain

Falling (Cardinal Copia x Female Reader)How long can casual sex with Cardinal Copia stay casual?

What You See (Primo x GN Reader)Primo needs you to tell him what you see when you look at him.

One Dance (Terzo x Female Reader)Duca (Duke) Terzo Emeritus was too charming for his own good (part 2 here)

Yay Satan Day (Cardinal Copia x Female Reader)Copia does his best to distract you from your job

The Sexy Adventures of Cardinal Terzo (Terzo x Female Reader)A series of stories featuring Cardinal Terzo and the many sexy adventures he has at the Abbey.

Play Ball (Copia x Female Reader)You weren’t the only one that loved that baseball uniform…