#Primo brown

[fallimentiquotidiani]

"più te ne sei andato più ti sento vicino,

l'Ultima parola che hai lasciato mi ha chiamato Primo"

[nofatclips]

Shut Tha Fuck Up by Cor Veleno

[darkputrex]

Condividiamo il nome, ma chissà quante altre cose, pensieri, umori, sentimenti e parole abbiamo sempre condiviso.

Hai sempre fatto della musica che spaccava, musica che aiutava ad andare avanti e ci riesce tutt'ora.. Ma chissà quanta altra roba avresti tirato fuori. Sei stata l'ispirazione di tanti, la luce di molti altri. Sono già passati 8 anni da quando sei andato via.. Grazie ancora di tutto Dà - Primo, un abbraccio, ovunque tu sia.

D.

[shrozie]

www.deviantart.com/bryanghidorah2002/art/Request-for-GoodGuyforever18

[andy-15-07]

Whenever you have time would you write this little idea? First of all I'm so sorry for any grammatical mistakes, English is not my first language 🙈, I think this would be fun

Pedro x south american/italian reader, like the girl is younger than Pedro. I'd like it to stick about once Pedro said, maybe she's like in her 30s?. Pedro introduces his girlfriend for the first time to his family (well if we count his 34 primos) and later on they spend a summer in Chile and fans get head over heels about Pedro dating for the first time in a long long time

The Pascal Secret

PAIRING:Pedro Pascal x reader

WORD COUNT: 1018| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The aroma of empanadas al horno filled the air, a comforting counterpoint to the nervous flutter in (Y/n)’s stomach. Around the long, polished dining table in Santiago, the Pascal family buzzed with pre-dinner excitement. Thirty-four cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents – a vibrant tapestry of Chilean warmth – were a lot to take in. Beside her, Pedro squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Relax, mi amor,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. “They’re going to adore you.”

(Y/n) managed a smile, though her heart was doing a tango. “Easy for you to say. They’re your family.”

Pedro chuckled, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “And they’re about to be your family too.”

He led her through the throng, introducing her to each relative with a flourish. Names and faces swirled – cousins like Isabella and Javier, aunts like Elena (who, Pedro had whispered, made the best empanadas), and abuelo Miguel, whose homemade wine was legendary (and potent, Pedro had cautioned). The language, a rapid-fire Spanish, was challenging at times, but the warmth in their eyes transcended any language barrier.

“And this,” Pedro announced, his arm wrapping around (Y/n)’s shoulders, “is (Y/n). My girlfriend.”

A ripple of excitement went through the room. “¡Hola, (Y/n)!” echoed around the table. Pedro’s father, José Manuel, gave her a warm, approving smile. He raised his glass. “To (Y/n), welcome to the family.”

The evening was a delicious, chaotic symphony. (Y/n) found herself seated next to Isabella, who spoke perfect English and filled her in on the family dynamics, the inside jokes, and Pedro’s childhood escapades. She learned about the “curse of the Pascal men,” a lighthearted family legend about their struggles with love. Isabella winked. “Looks like the curse might be broken.”

(Y/n) blushed, glancing at Pedro, who was deep in conversation with his father. He caught her eye and winked, a genuine, unguarded smile that made her heart do a little flip.

Later, as the evening wound down, Pedro and (Y/n) stood on the balcony, overlooking the city lights.

“So,” (Y/n) said, leaning against him, “I survived.”

Pedro laughed. “You did more than survive. You conquered.”

“They’re wonderful,” she said, genuinely. “Your family is…amazing.”

“They are,” he agreed, his voice soft. “And they’re very happy for me.”

(Y/n) turned to him, her eyes searching his. “And you? Are you happy?”

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks. “More than I have been in a long time,” he said, his voice husky. “You’ve brought a lot of…light into my life, (Y/n).”

She smiled, her heart swelling. “You too, Pedro. You too.”

Their summer in Chile was a dream. Pedro, usually so guarded, seemed to blossom. He took (Y/n) to his favorite childhood haunts – the beaches of Viña del Mar, the majestic Andes, the colorful streets of Valparaíso. They explored the country, hand in hand, laughing, and making memories.

He was openly affectionate, holding her hand, kissing her forehead, whispering sweet nothings. He introduced her to his friends, took her to local fondas, and even shared photos of them together on social media.

The internet, predictably, went wild. At first, there was shock, then speculation, then acceptance. The “Pascalitos” flooded social media.

“Pedro Pascal has a girlfriend!” one fan tweeted. “My heart is broken, but I’m so happy for him!”

“She seems lovely,” another wrote. “He deserves happiness.”

“Officially shipping Pedro and (Y/n)!” another declared.

There were a few negative comments, the inevitable whispers, but they were drowned out by the wave of support. Most fans were simply happy for him.

One afternoon, while lounging by the pool, (Y/n) stumbled upon a social media thread discussing Pedro’s past relationships. She’d known he’d been linked to various women, but she’d never delved into the details. Seeing the names and faces, she felt a pang of insecurity. She was younger, less experienced, not famous. Was she good enough?

She didn’t voice her concerns, but the thoughts lingered.

Later, she watched Pedro chatting with his cousin. He looked so relaxed, so at home. She loved everything about him, but the feeling of being an imposter crept in.

Pedro noticed her quietness. He turned, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong, mi amor?”

(Y/n) hesitated, then blurted out, “I was reading things online…about your past.”

Pedro sighed, understanding dawning. He took her hand. “And?”

“And I feel like I’m not…I don’t know…good enough,” she confessed.

Pedro’s expression softened. He pulled her close. “Don’t ever say that,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You are more than enough, (Y/n). You are everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He looked into her eyes, his gaze sincere. “My past is my past. It doesn’t define me, and it certainly doesn’t define us. What we have is special, (Y/n). It’s real. And it’s more important to me than anything.”

Tears welled in her eyes. She knew he was honest. She could see it, hear it. He loved her. That was all that mattered.

“I love you, Pedro,” she whispered.

“I love you too, (Y/n),” he replied, his lips brushing against hers. “More than you know.”

The rest of the summer was a blur of happiness. They explored more of Chile, visited friends, and simply enjoyed each other’s company. They laughed, talked, danced under the stars. They fell deeper in love with each passing day. One evening, as they sat on a secluded beach, watching the sun dip below the Pacific, Pedro turned to her, a serious expression on his face.

“(Y/n),” he began, his voice low, “I…” He paused, taking a deep breath. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. He opened it, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

(Y/n) gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

“Will you marry me?” he asked, his eyes filled with love.

Tears streamed down her face. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “Yes, a thousand times yes!”

He slipped the ring onto her finger, then pulled her into a passionate embrace. The cheers of his family, who had been watching from a distance, erupted around them. The “curse of the Pascal men” was officially broken.

[leog4u]

My fav algerian recipes

wrote this out for a friend but i figured i'd share here.

The best part about algerian cuisine is its all very common stuff, and easy to make. Garlic, onions, beef, garlic, cumin, tomatoes. That's most of the dishes. The one thing you'll need is harissa, which is sold in more and more supermarkets, and easily available online. You can make your own, but most algerians just get the yellow tube lol.

M'thewem - A chickpea and meatball stew with very little "broth", served with bread you dip and grab with. very filling, freezes and keeps well. You brown lamb neck or shank or whatever is cheapest, and the meatballs are just your average ground beef, but seasoned with Stuff. the video has a diced red onion, but i prefer yellow/white https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1V5xgnQRmzg

"Omlette" - It's actually just spanish tortilla, but we have that. here's a vid, literally all you need is potatoes and eggs, but goes great with bread. One of the best parts of it is again, it's very easy and Incredibly filling, and easily feeds a crowd! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPYk9W9v-bI

Shakshuka - a pepper, tomato, and harissa dish that's very basil forward. its really good and very different then the recipe all the white youtubers keep doing thats based on the moracan version. this vid is close to what I do, but you can include small pieces of potato and a Lot of basil. You can expedite the process by just cutting up your veg and potato and cooking them down on the frying pan, adding water so they dont burn. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gJuyS_tyz_M

Merguez - SO I...dont know if you should make merguez from scratch cause it's expensive. i dont even make it. on top of spices you need harissa, but the price comes in from Needing fatty lamb/mutton and beef. It's unfortunately non negotiable, using anything else is like giving somebody a steakhouse burger recipe and they sub with 99% lean turkey. unfortunately it's my favorite thing on planet earth. serious eats has a recipe thats close to what i think is ideal https://www.seriouseats.com/homemade-merguez-sausage-recipe

None of the supermarket pre-packed brands do it justice, go to a butcher and hope they have it. I've noticed it's been getting more and more popular, so if you live in a metro area, try and find it.

merguez is like, the greatest thing ever. its great with eggs, it's great with salad, but the best, and most Most Primo Mmm-mm! way to eat merguez is in a hoagie roll with french fries and more harisa as a sandwich. A seasoned salad of diced cucumber, tomato, red onion, and olive oil goes excellent with it.

[falcemartello]

L'INSERIMENTO DEGLI STUPRI DI GRUPPO DEI MUSULMANI SU BAMBINE : Nel 2008, quando Keir Starmer era direttore della pubblica accusa e Gordon Brown era primo ministro, fu inviata una circolare a tutti i procuratori e alle forze di polizia affinché non facessero nulla riguardo alle giovani ragazze britanniche stuprate dai musulmani pakistani.

-----

Lo scandalo britannico delle GroomingGangs ricorda la burella dantesca e si compone dei seguenti cerchi:

1. bande di pakistani stupravano ragazzine inglesi

2. polizia non accettava la denuncia

3. servizi sociali convincevano vittime e loro famiglie che denunciare era razzista

4. quando qualcuno riusciva a denunciare i magistrati (tra questi Starmer) rigettavano la causa perché poteva costituire motivo d'odio razziale

5. chi riusciva a fare la causa, a far arrestare le bande di pakistani e a vincere, veniva poi stigmatizzato da media e sistema politico di sinistra in quanto "razzista"

6. alcune famiglie woke quando vedevano che la figlia voleva insistere nella denuncia, incolpavano lei di razzismo fino ad isolarla

Questi sono i 6 gradini del Male, i 6 livelli di discesa negli inferi del woke. Ora non basta individuare i responsabili, occorre una rinascita civile e culturale.

.

Starmer risponde allo scandalo delle GroominGang accusando chi le denuncia di Islamofobia. La divergenza tra i due mondi è conclamata. Non ci può essere mediazione.

Il dogma immigrazionista è intoccabile. Se crolla, crolla tutta la loro visione del mondo.

(boni castellane)

[two-red-lungs]

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Can't get the whole "Do you think you'd kill for me one day ?" "Yes, of course I will my darling" out of my head, but make it the Papas x their most devoted ghouls. Basically murder ghouls offering very morbid gifts to the Papas. They like it.

TW for morally grey characters - both Papas and ghouls - blood, kind of body horror, I guess ? I think it is. It might be a bit disturbing, so. Read with caution.

Earth bringing a beautiful bottle to Primo's office one day, something definitely meant for rituals, a masterpiece of carefuly crafted glass, full of a dark red liquid. Too dark to be wine. He simply sets it on a shelf, under the First's cautious eyes, and in an instant, Primo knows.

"Won't it...coagulate, or...I don't know, dry, rot ?" he asks from behind his desk, setting his glasses down in front of him. Earth smiles, adjusting the bottle so that the light catches it just right.

"I made sure it won't."

Primo smiles when the ghoul takes his hand and presses a kiss to the ring he's wearing.

"Take care not to drink it, your body wouldn't like it much."

Primo cocks an eyebrow.

"You gift me a full bottle of blood - human, i presume - and I'm not even allowed to drink it ? How very tragic."

Earth's chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You can only wish to be a vampire, but, do not act like this isn't a power trip for you. Having someone's blood displayed in your office. Being able to admire its unique color."

Primo's smile widens.

Secondo looking up from his work, carefully setting the ancient book he's restauring on the side when Alpha leans against the doorframe, hands behind his back.

Once he's sure he has the former Papa's full attention, Alpha steps in, setting something on the desk, between Secondo's hand.

It's a paperweight, the kind he loves, heavy half globe of glass, in which is trapped a curiosity ; Secondo has a growing collection of those.

It's the first time, though, that an eye is staring blindly at him from within its transparent confine. A beautiful shade of brown, that eye, rich and deep, with flecks of gold ; Secondo leans closer to examine it.

"Fascinating," he comments, "you know me too well."

Alpha grins, rounding the desk to stand behind Secondo's chair, massaging his tense shoulders as he whispers against his ear.

"Took me a while to find the color I wanted, I know you have a thing for that kind of brown eyes."

Secondo hums, turning the paperweight this way and that, letting light bounce off it, projecting rainbows on the wall. It will definitely have a special place on his desk, so that Secondo will be able to gaze at it whenever he wishes to.

Alpha kisses the corner of his mouth, almost reverently, and Secondo puts the paperweight down, letting his eyes flutter shut.

Omega helping Terzo dress one morning, but just as the former Papa is about to move away, his ghoul tugs on his sleeve, shoving something in his hand.

What the rosary is made of is, Terzo immediately knows. The beads, the inverted cross, they're an ivory white that is quite impossible to mistake for anything other than it is.

By the way Omega hooks his chin on Terzo's shoulder, arms wrapping around his middle, the former Papa has no doubt it's important for him, that gift.

"It's lovely, my dear ghoul. Did you make it yourself ?"

Terzo really means it. The piece of jewlery is delicate and elegant, something he'll wear with pride.

"I did. I'm glad you like it."

A pause. Terzo takes a moment to bask in Omega kissing up his neck, before he slips the rosary around it.

"Should I ask who's bones I'm wearing ?"

Omega chuckles, face now burried in his hair.

"You know better. All that matters is that you look fantastic, wearing someone's bone."

Terzo does, so he simply smiles, admiring how the necklace rests on his chest in the mirror, sinking into Omega's embrace.

Dew, wordlessly slipping a bracelet around Copia's wrist after practice. He looks down, surprised, as the ghoul lingers, hovering at his side.

A thin chain, trinkets dangling from it, mostly tiny coins with infernal symbols engraved on them and....oh. Teeth. Well, they sure look healthy.

Copia takes to examinate them, tests the point of a canine, pleased to find it still sharp, humming under his breath.

"That's quite the work you've put in, Dew, thank you. It's beautiful."

The fire ghoul takes Copia's hand, turning it until he can kiss the inside of his wrist.

"I figured you'd like it. They're perfect, aren't they ?"

Copia takes another teeth between his two fingers, holding it up for further inspection, smiling at how flawless it is.

"They sure are. Wish I had that kind of dental care, eh."

Dew snorts, tail gently squeezing Copia's hips, who let himself be pulled in the ghoul's side.

[apomaro-mellow]

Built for Loving 2

Part 1

mentions of bestiality, sado/masochism, and gang rape (none of that will happen in the story, it's just mentioned as a possibility)

Eddie was so over the moon that his bot got approved, he went outside and called his uncle right away with the news.

“They got you on a build already?”, Wayne asked.

“Yeah”, Eddie beamed in the sun. He leaned against the building, still in disbelief that he had the ID that got him into the most exclusive parts. “My design got approved and everything. We start makin’ him tomorrow but I’m gonna go ahead and get the materials today after lunch.”

“Alright then. I’m proud of you. Just don’t let them work you to the ground, Ed.”

“When have I ever let someone work me like a pack mule?”

Wayne laughed on the other end. “Well don’t get lost in your work then. Make sure you get out and into the sunshine at least once a week.”

“Yeah, yeah”, Eddie said. They both remembered the all-nighters Eddie would pull. More than once his uncle referred to him to some kind of cryptid or creature of the night. Eddie certainly had a tendency to obsess. But now it was all paying off. “My break’s almost over. I just wanted to call and give you the good news.”

They said their goodbyes and Eddie went back inside. He scarfed down a sandwich and guzzled a soda in the last five minutes that he had for his lunch and then went right to getting the materials. It was simply a matter of going into storage and shopping around, filling out a form as he did. Eddie had been fascinated by these bots for years, so seeing various body parts in bins wasn’t that off putting. The wall of hair samples kind of freaked him though.

Eddie would be building his own from the ground up, so he ignored the bins of arms and legs. He took his time, meticulously picking out the perfect shade of brown with the right amount of highlights. When he got to the drawers of eyeballs, it was surprisingly easy to find ones that were just the right amount of hazel. 

Then there was the skin. Steve’s skin was dotted all over with moles and freckles. There were skin samples that came pre-moled, but that just didn’t feel right to Eddie. It would take some extra time, but he’d put them on himself. He just picked the color that most resembled Steve and made a mental note to get the right tools so that he could add the moles. 

He turned in the form and was told which lab station he could find it at tomorrow. For now, he returned to his desk to start on the software. He put some headphones on as he went through the company’s voice bank. Eddie didn’t think he’d be able to find Steve’s exact voice, but he could get pretty close. There had to be about a million voices (okay maybe just about 100,000). Most of them were female though, so he was able to filter out over half. 

Eddie spent the rest of his shift going through them all. He kept trying to tell himself to not let ‘good’ be the enemy of ‘done’ but it couldn’t be just any voice. He considered picking one that was close enough and just doing some editing to make it like how he remembered Steve when he found it. It was as if Steve Harrington himself had lent his voice to the sampling bank. And, well, he could have, Eddie didn’t know. He also didn’t put it past Brenner Ventures to use A.I. scraping for some of their assets but at this point, Eddie didn’t care.

He scooped the voice and began writing up the script. Pleasure bots were built with an A.I processor that could respond to most kinds of input or stimulus. But they were expected to be personalized. Of course, Eddie had to give him Steve’s personality. Or at least, what he’d gleaned from admiring him from afar. 

He reminded himself of the only real note the client had given. Eddie imagined the customer just wanted some primo eye candy. A hot guy that was ready to fuck or be fucked at a moment’s notice. He almost wished he had more info about the buyer but Eddie knew the less he knew the better.

Whether it was an aging billionaire or a young socialite, their kinks could be the same. It wasn’t Eddie’s business to know unless the bot was returned with complaints. And if that happened, it was simply a matter of adjusting them and sending them right back. 

Eddie typed up a few practice phrases, just to hear how they sounded. He made sure to add vocal descriptors and hit play and-

“Hey baby-”

He tossed the headphones off like they were on fire, getting him an odd look from the intern, the only one in this building younger than him. He stood up, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants.

“Gonna get some-yeah.”

He didn’t know what he was gonna get. Just that he had to step away from his work for a second and really think about what he was doing. He ended up on a balcony, taking a smoke break. The sun had begun to dip low. He really should be on his way home. But he at least wanted to finish the key phrases before clocking out today. Tomorrow he’d have his materials and it would be all about the build before he could touch the software again.

Eddie took a long drag. He was making a high end sex doll of an old high school crush. And he wasn’t even the one who was going to fuck it! His only solace right now was that Steve would never see it. 

He finished the cigarette and then went back inside. He wasn’t going to pull all-nighters over this. He wasn’t going to obsess. He wasn’t going to let it drive him insane.

-----------------------

Three months later and Eddie couldn’t remember when he’d last seen his bed. Sometimes he felt like shit and other times he felt like he could take on Zeus. If he thought listening to Steve’s voice give sexy lines was too much, it was nothing compared to the body. At first it was easy. He was simply a skeleton of metal and wires. 

But soon the bot began to take shape and one day Eddie was staring into the open eyes of the guy he couldn’t stop thinking about as a teenager. Eddie spent more time on this single bot than anyone had and they all let him know it. 

Owens came into the lab just as Eddie was inputting the last bit of software. He clicked away at the computer, the bot lying across a table behind him. Owens tugged a little at the lab coat that covered the body. 

“Protecting an android’s modesty?”, Owens teased.

“More like shielding the rest of the lab from their inadequacy”, Eddie grinned. “He’s quite the specimen.” 

Eddie didn’t like looking at his creation, naked and unconscious on a metal slab. But voicing those thoughts only got him strange looks, so he learned to keep it to himself. He didn’t know how the others could watch their bots sit in the cold, naked as anything and honestly if he wasn’t under more watchful eyes, Eddie might’ve given his bot a blanket and pillow. Even if he was made of metal, he looked like Steve and Eddie never wanted Steve to be uncomfortable.

Eddie picked up the chip he’d been working on and used his chair to wheel over to Steve. He opened up the chest cavity and gave the chip a kiss before inserting it to the right slot.

“You put the prime chip in his chest? What, like a heart?”, Owens asked.

“What can I say? I’m sentimental. I feel like Gepetto”, Eddie said, standing up and kicking the chair away. 

Pleasure bots were customized. No two were alike and that went down to their skeletons, characterized by their maker. But a lot still adhered to the basic Brenner blueprint. This was Eddie’s first chance and he wanted to hit the ground running.

“Well? Don’t leave us in suspense”, Owens urged.

Eddie took a breath and reached under the neck. His skin felt as real as any human’s. He pressed a button hidden under the material and counted ten seconds. The chest rose and fell once like a breath. The motors and subsequent fans running. His eyes opened, like sunlight dappling a forest floor.

“Enter diagnostic mode”, Eddie commanded. 

“Entertainment automaton, by Brenner Ventures, subject to copyright. Product I.D. EDM-001.”

It was odd hearing Steve’s voice so flat and lifeless. But Eddie went through the system checks, knowing that was why Owens decided to grace him with his presence today. When they finished, the older man nodded and Eddie let out a quiet breath of relief. He knew his coding was perfect. But some guys on the floor always found a nitpick.

“Go ahead and put him in client mode”, Owens said. “You’re running him on imprinting software, correct?”

“Yeah”, Eddie answered, moving so that when Steve awakened, he wouldn’t be in his line of sight. It made things easier for the client. The bot would register the first voice they heard, the first face they saw. It meant the client didn’t need to do anything else but make sure they were the first one the bot interacted with.

Eddie cleared his throat. “Enter client mode.”

The difference was immediate. He sat up and now his chest expanded regularly, like he was actually breathing. He blinked, the cameras in his eyes registering the man in front of him, Owens.

“Hello~”

His voice was seductive from the start without being sleazy or pornographic right from the get-go. The balance was important to Eddie.

“Good afternoon. Your name is Bitch Boy Number 16 and I’m gonna use you to suck my floppy old man dick and then stick you in a storage closet with the other fifteen.”

The bot giggled and leaned forward, encouraging Owens to start while Eddie stood there frozen.

“I’m gonna beat you until that artificial skin bruises black and then knock your teeth out and then let my friends have a chance at you ‘cause we’re all drunk and lookin’ for a few kicks and we already broke three bots before you. Sound good?”

“Mmm, sounds perfect~”

“How’s about if I get twenty four guys to run a train? One for each hour of the day?”

“I’d love that~”

“How’s about I let my dog hump you and you cum on his dick and I film it for my buddies at the office?”

“When do we start~?”

“Alright, that’s enough. Power down.”

Steve laid himself down and closed his eyes, the whirring coming from within quieted as he went into sleep mode. Eddie felt sick to his stomach.

“Agreeable and submissive”, Owens said, checking things off a clipboard. “If you learn nothin’ else here kid, get that through your head. The people that buy these aren’t looking for companions. They’re buying toys and while some are content to put their toys on a shelf and bring ‘em down to brush their hair and put ‘em in nice clothes, others play with toys just to break ‘em. The sooner you get that through your head, the better. You’re not Gepetto. And he’s not a real boy.”

Eddie swallowed as Owens removed the lab coat that was covering Steve’s lower half. He said ‘mhm; to himself as he did the final check. Once he was finished, he stamped the paperwork, and gave it to Eddie to sign. While Eddie put his signature down, Owens picked up a laser tool to put the final piece onto the bot’s forehead. A QR code, invisible to the naked eye, but able to be scanned and and easily identify the bot.

“Delivery team will be here in about fifteen minutes to get him boxed up and shipped out, so say your goodbyes. And hey”, Owens put a hand on his shoulder. “Congrats on your first bot, son.”

Owens took the paperwork and walked out after that, leaving Eddie alone. Eddie knew there were folks out there with really dark kinks. And there were folks who didn’t take care of their bots. But it couldn’t happen to Steve. Who could hurt a face this nice?

He pulled the chair up to the table and sat by his head. He stroked the soft brown hairs and sighed.

“You’re gonna be treated right. You’re gonna be loved because-” Eddie felt silly for even thinking it but if he didn’t say it and he let this droid go into the world, never to be seen again unless returned for being faulty… 

Eddie never had the courage to say it to the real Steve. If he couldn’t say it now, to a version he had built that wasn’t even awake, then he really hadn’t changed since high school.

“You’re gonna be loved because I already love you.” He kissed his forehead, then looked to his lips, sitting there, pretty and soft.

Eddie was still there, staring at his face when the delivery team came in. He was transported to a cart and wheeled away, unkissed. Eddie could only hope whoever bought him would kiss him as much as he deserved.

“God, I need a smoke.” Or a good night’s sleep. Or a decent fuck. Eddie would go home and start with dropping dead on his bed. If that didn’t work, he’d hit the bar and find someone else’s bed to sleep in. It was the weekend now, which meant he wasn’t required to think about robots for a full forty eight hours. Whatever happened to his creation now was out of his hands.

Part 3

[da-rulah]

Okay, I have summon enough courage to ask. I know this trope for Cardinal Copia is over done but I would love, love your take on it. I would like a sister of sin who Copia have had a crush on, come and comfort him after witnessing him getting bullied and embarrassed. But the poor Cardinal is an emotional crying wreck that the sister decide the only way to comfort him is by being sexual with him for the first time🙈

P.s. I love all your work and you are such an amazing writer 🤗 💕

Oh, how I adore this trope. Copia deserves someone to stand up for him, no? Let's give him what he deserves...

And thank you for enjoying my work! 🖤

Cardinal Copia x f!reader

TW/ bullying, cruelty, emotional Copia, comfort, oral sex (male recieving), drooling and spit kink, cum swallowing.

18+ Content, MDNI!!

Brother Emilio was a tosser - you knew that from day one.

But what in Satan's mortal realm gave him the right or the audacity to speak to Cardinal Copia the way he did? To humiliate that poor man so? To make him feel like he was lesser than, when he was clearly in a higher position that Emilio would EVER be?

It angered you to no end.

And so, when you stumbled upon another scene of Brother Emilio absolutely vilifying the poor Cardinal in the mess hall when he'd sat at the opposite end of the only empty table in the entire room, you had enough.

How dare he call him the rat man. How dare he call him ugly, hideous, a curse on womenkind. He'd told him we was unfuckable, unloveable... How dare he make the poor man cower as he and his clan of cronies laughed and giggled.

"Brother Emilio, may I ask... does your father tell you he's proud of you?" you asked from the next table over, never taking your eyes off your plate in front of you. "Scusi?" he asked, the laughter around him dying down. The Cardinal's eyes were on you, wide and shining with unshed tears but he couldn't help but stare when you had piped up.

"Your father..." you look up at him then, leaning on your elbows as you chewed on a carrot stick. "Does he tell you he's proud of you?"

You'd clearly hit a nerve, his face contorting into a sneer. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"Well that's why you bully people, isn't it? For daddy's approval?" you smirked, your tone playful and teasing and just a little bit too sadistic. Emilio stayed silent, as did his croons. "Or is it mummy's approval you're after? What? Stop breastfeeding you finally, did she?"

A chorus of 'ooooh's' rang out from those around you, turning to see what Emilio did next, waiting...

"Why you sticking up for the rat, _____? What, do you wanna fuck him?" he laughed.

The Cardinal's cheeks burned redder than his cassock, and he couldn't take it anymore... The laughter of the entire table was too much, and in front of you no less. One of the few siblings to show kindness to him rather than the indifference or straight up disgust that so many did. Certainly the most beautiful, in his eyes...

He couldn't stick around to hear how you might answer that. He didn't need to hear you say you would never... So he got up, abandoning his barely touched meal and scarpering off to his own little private corner of the ministry and the only place he ever got any peace away from the prying eyes of the rest of the clergy; the abandoned chapel just past Primo's gardens.

You shot up form your seat and sauntered over to Emilio, getting up in his face and pressing a pointed finger to the centre of his chest.

"I don't know why you seem to get off on belittling others, brother mine," you spat, "but I'm willing to bet it's the overcompensation for the baby dick you pump full of viagra to get off at all."

You jabbed him with your finger and pushed him back a step, before heading to where Copia has been sat and gathering some of the food he'd left in a brown paper bag. You had to find him; you couldn't let him wallow in his humiliation any longer.

Copia didn't mind the damp smell of the old chapel, nor did he mind how cold and dark it was in here. It felt somewhat fitting, like this was where he deserved to be, or at least, the only place he could truly be alone without feeling inadequate.

He felt pathetic; his tears has made the black around his eyes run in streaks down his pale and ageing face, and he sniffled where he sat in the old pews with no one to hear him but the decaying statue of Baphomet behind the weathered pulpit.

When he heard the creak of the old door behind him, he didn't bother to turn to look, just let his shoulders sag in defeat, waiting for the jeers of whichever siblings had followed him out here.

But they never came.

Instead, he heard shoes clacking on the stone floor, gingerly walking towards him. He saw, from the corner of his eye, a body sit down next to him, saying nothing at all. Instead, the person held out a brown paper bag to him, that he stared at in confusion, following the length of the arm to discover it was you...

Somehow, in the dim light of the abandoned chapel you still looked ethereal. The stained glass windows were cracked and some boarded up but they allowed just enough light to cast pale reds and blues onto your face. His chest tightened, remembering what Brother Emilio had said. He looked away from you in shame.

"Cardinal, please... you need to eat," you shook the bag at him, seeming to wake him from a bit of a trance. he took it from you with a quiet 'grazie...'

"It's easier said than done, I know..." you began, "but you must try to ignore men like Emilio. Perhaps even stand up to him. He picks on your because he gets a reaction, not because anything he says is remotely true."

"No, he is right, Sorella... I'm a snivelling, pathetic old rat man," he sniffled, clutching the bag of food you'd brought him. He didn't miss how sweet that was, that you'd followed him to make sure he ate. But he didn't dwell on it, lest he begin to fantasise of your unwavering kindness being more than simply that.

"Cardinal, listen to me..." you turned and angled your body towards him, planting your hand on his knee. His skin burned beneath his cassock. "That simply isn't true. You are a kind, sensitive man. That's all. Nothing wrong with that."

Copia sighed, more tears falling from his eyes, resting his back against the pew. He clearly didn't believe you. You couldn't let him think of himself so poorly anymore... Not when you thought the absolute world of him.

"You really believe no one finds you attractive, Cardinal? That you're not worthy of affection?" you ask. His eyes squeeze tightly shut as more tears fall silently. That was his 'yes'. Your hand on his knee squeezed once to comfort him, but it made him tense even more. How touch starved, he was.

"Emilio asked me if I wanted to fuck you," you scoffed, shaking your head, "you were gone before I could answer."

"Sorella, please, I don't need your pit-"

"I would."

Copia's head snapped in your direction, eyes wide and brow creased in confusion.

"Y-you... you wouldn't..." he denied, shaking his head as he scanned your face. You just smirked at him, your hands drifting higher up his thigh over his cassock.

"Oh, I would. I've thought about it a few times..." you argued. "I've always liked you, Cardinal... I like that you're shy, a little awkward... You're sensitive, and passionate about what you love... You're handsome and endearing... I'd definitely fuck you." You squeezed his upper thigh, watching in amusement as his back straightened and jaw hung open.

You leaned into him then, whispering into his ear... "Let me show you how much I like you, Cardinal..."

Copia stayed frozen as he watched you slink off the pew beside him and to your knees on the floor in front of him. You parted his legs and slotted yourself between them, hands coming to unbutton his cassock from the bottom up to where the belt was wrapped around his little waist. It gave you enough room to work with, and enough exposure to get to the fly of his tight red pants.

"S-sorella, you don't have to-" He thought you pitied him. He thought you were just being kind. He had no idea just how long you'd wanted to do this.

"Do you want me to stop?" you asked, giving him the option as your fingertips ghosted over his growing bulge that was so clearly not hidden in his pants.

"Uuhh... n-no... Don't stop," you panted, squeezing his eyes shut and hiccuping on the last of his sobs when he squeezed his eyes shut.

With confirmation, you almost tore into his pants, undoing the fastenings nimbly and reaching inside to claim your prize.

"Copia... look at me," you told him, your voice soft and sweet yet holding so much authority as your hand wrapped around him. he gasped, eyes darting open. You smiled at him, made him watch you pump his length a few times. This was happening, and you needed him to see you.

"You're more than worthy of this, you know that? I've wanted this for a long time..." you told him. Copia bit into his bottom lip, hypnotised by your hand on his cock. "Have you... ever thought about me?"

So many times. But he wasn't ready to admit that. He didn't want to frighten you off now.

"I-I have..." Fucking damnit, he thought, I said don't tell her that, idiota! he cursed himself, but you smiled at him instead, sitting up higher on your knees to grab him by the cassock and pull him to you, pressing your lips to his.

Copia melted into it immediately, dropping the bag of food he still had tightly in his hand to the bench beside him and allowing himself to finally touch you, to push your veil off and curl his fingers into your hair the way he'd dreamt of when his imagination let him kiss you.

Your hand never stopped pumping his length, and he couldn't help but gasp a moan against you when you ran your thumb over his tip over and over.

"Let me taste you, Copia... please," you asked. How could he deny you?

He let go of your hair and sat back against the pew once again, eyes hooded but watching intently as you sank back to sit on your heels, and lowered yourself to take his tip into your mouth.

Copia gasped at the feeling; how wet, how warm you were... You felt better than he could have imagined.

You hummed around his length in satisfaction as you took more of him in, flattening your tongue and relaxing your throat to accommodate his size. It took everything in him to stave off his orgasm there and then.

He was so completely enamoured in you, his limbs laying limp where he sat as he watched you take him over and over, humming to yourself in satisfaction when you'd feel his cock jump and twitch in your mouth.

Copia could barely think straight, his jaw going slack and groans and whimpers leaving his throat completely unbridled. He squeezed his eyes shut, hissing as you sucked particularly harshly at his head.

You kept pumping your fist in time with your head bobbing, making sure every inch of him was covered in some way. You found yourself becoming sloppy, drool coating him. You were almost embarrassed, except when you looked up at him through your lashes you saw that whilst he was laying slack against the bench, he too was drooling from the corner of his lips.

With your free hand you swiped your finger over his chin, collecting the spit right up to the corner of his mouth which caught his attention. He watched as you popped your lips off him and instead, put your finger into your mouth, sucking his fucking drool from it.

Sathanas, he was never letting you go.

When you returned your mouth to his length it wasn't long before you could see him writhing, dangling on the edge of his orgasm but trying desperately to last longer; he didn't want this to end so soon. But you didn't care, you wanted it.

With a few tighter tugs to his cock and a very calculated few swipes of your tongue, Copia came undone.

Thick ropes of cum splattered to your tongue as you pumped him through it, milking every last drop you could get. He growled above you; a sound that sent ripples of arousal coursing through you. He sounded stronger, more powerful than you'd ever heard him in that moment. You wanted to hear it again and again...

You swallowed his load and sat up again, holding onto his cassock and pulling him to sit upright and look in your eyes.

"Now, Cardinal..." you demanded his attention. He willingly gave it... "Take me to your bed. Let me show you what effect you have on me, hm?"

"S-sí... You deserve better than this old place," he mumbled, shoving his softening length back into his tight trousers and standing on shaky legs as he pulled you up by your hands. He pulled you into a desperate kiss, his hands grabbing at your hips as he hauled your body against his. You whimpered into his lips, already feeling the way the power dynamic slipped from your grasp, to his...

He looped his fingers into yours and gripped your hand, pulling you from between the pews - all whilst snatching up that sweet little brown bag you'd brought him in his free hand - and marching you out of the decrepit chapel, back into the Ministry.

That evening, he showed you that he was most certainly not the pathetic little rat man everyone thought he was.

Something you had known already, for a long, long time.

[kookies2000]

Because I feel like it.

Yellow sky? Bare footed characters? Mostly a mess? Over exaggerating some of the Hispanic features. I saw the first episode, and it was just poorly written in general. And what mother calls their son "cochinada." Roughly translates to dirty or trash.

What's good Latino/Hispanic representation?

Colombian 🇨🇴

In the Caribbean region of Colombia, they light up candles and lanterns on December 8, before sunrise. So the candle giving them magic was a wonderful detail. Generational trauma is a thing for us Latinos, and this film handled it in a healthy and matuer manner. And I love how they didn't shy away with how Spaniards attacked and colonized latin lands.

Mexicans 🇲🇽

Yes, us Mexicans love death. 🤣 But hey, I was always taught to respect death, La Muerte, and our ancestors. So, it makes sense that many Mexican films talk about death. But I also like that Maya and the Three have Aztec, Mayan, and Incan mythology. Natives to Mexico.

Dominican Puerto Rican 🇩🇴🇵🇷

Luz mom is Dominican, and Luz dad is Puerto Rican. I appreciate a good interracial couple and a mixed child. Luz name also translates to light, and some Latinos are known for doing witch craft. Or at least knowledgeable about witches and demons, and no, we aren't evil. We just know how to handle this stuff. Plus, the owl has many meanings in Latino culture. To some, I believe the owl is a messenger of death and is telling everyone that death/danger is near.

Afro Latino. Puerto Rican 🇵🇷

I am a massive sucker for interracial couples and mixed kids because of this. I was working at a hispanic store as a cashier. This woman walks past me and starts talking to the bagger. The bagger has blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin. The bagger looks at me worried because she doesn't speak English. So brown skin, black hair, me has to tell the bagger that the lady wanted ice in Spanish. I then talked to the lady in English. Her reaction? "YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!" Same for a dark skinned man. So many people skip me and talk to him in English. He's Dominican, and he only spoke Spanish. I appreciate films that show Latinos in different skin types and features. We're not all brown. So yeah, the mass diversity in this film is just beautiful. And I love how they wrote Miles relationship with his parents. Realistic conflict and healthy communication. Not falling into toxic stereotypes.

Spainard Puss 🇪🇸 Mexican Kitty & Perrito 🇲🇽

Spaniards are considered Hispanic but not Latinos like Mexicans. And again, interracial couples for the win. And I love the realism in their romance that heals through healthy therapy. Many people see Mexicans as toxic, so having Perrito as a therapist and the one helping everyone emotionally, it's nice. Not every Mexican is toxic. And I love how you can tell their Spanish and Mexican even though their animals. Puss Spanish accent, Spanish actor, him being a ginger like some Spaniards, flamingo dancing, and gazpacho. Kitty, Mexican accent, Mexican actress, black fur/hair like most Mexicans, quinceañera, and I love how they gave her a luchador mask. Something that originates from Mexico. Also, my brother and I joke how we as Mexiacns can't swim and Kitty nearky drowns in the 1st film. 🤣 Perrito, he's a chihuahua with a Mexican actor. Enough said. I also want to say death is Brazilian because of his actor.

I don't know much about Spanish culture, but someone said the wishing star has a connection to Spanish culture. Is that true? If so, COOL! Because death is connected to Mexican culture. So, Dreamworks finding a way to combine Spanish and Mexican culture in one film is 100% magical.

There are many more, like Beverly Hills Chihuahua 🇲🇽. 🤣 That film is better than Primos. Emperor's New Groove, Peru 🇵🇪, and Rio, Brazil 🇧🇷. Not Hispanic but Latino culture. But this post is getting long. Primos! A huge step down in Latino/Hispanic representation. Especially since we have so many good films and shows that have proper representation.

[wildfloweretbarley]

South Side Smokers’ Club — L.G.

Wherein you and Lip Gallagher catch up over the summer holidays, with the help of weed and old attachments.

Fem!reader x Lip Gallagher

Warnings: swearing, marijuana usage, fade-to-black smut

AN: I've just started watching Shameless and I'm feeling really normal about this dickhead as you can tell. Also, I don't smoke, so sorry for any inaccuracies :3

“Do you smoke, Princess?”

Lip extends his hand, joint pinched between his index and thumb. You pick at your cuticles with your nails. You were home for the summer from college, so you decided to catch up with some old friends from high school. Tonight? Phillip Gallagher. Sucking your lip between your teeth, you shake your head.

“Not my thing. I think.”

Lip’s eyebrow shoots to his hairline.

“You think? You mean you’ve lived in the South Side for the last 18 fuckin’ years and you’ve never even tried pot?”

You shrug.

“Fuck, Princess, what did you fuckin’ do in high school?” he questions, leaning back; spreading his legs. God, his legs. 

Your lips part. Unbeknownst to him, you’ve had a small, tiny, insurmountable crush on him since you were a sophomore and he was a junior. He used to tutor your best friend, so you’d always tag along under the guise of walking with her to make sure she was safe. Over the semester, you two became acquaintances; friends. He was always nice to you, even giving you the nickname Princess for some godforsaken reason.

“I don’t know, Lip,” you scoffed, “I fuckin’ went to class, worked my ass off, got good enough grades to get out of here for college–”

“Yeah, alright, okay, Princess, quit your poetic waxing ‘n’ come try this.” He beckons you over with his free hand.

You frown, unimpressed, “Lip–” 

“Shut up–” he grabs your wrist and tugs you to his end of his bed. “–and come here.” 

You giggle, “Fine, fine!” 

You semi-shuffle over, semi-collapse against his muscular side. He laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn’t seem phased by your chest resting against his defined bicep. His pretty brown eyes look down at you, a soft smile gracing his lips.

“Okay, sit up. Your first time, your lungs’ve gotta be straight and shit.”

You giggle and comply with what the older boy says. Straightening your spine like a soldier, you scoot over to be sitting criss-crossed in front of him.

“Lip, how do I?...” you trail off, motioning towards the joint in his hand.

He chuckles, eyeing the way you chew your thumb. His tongue runs over his lips. He shakes his curls.

“Okay, Princess,” he breathes, “Jus’ take it between your lips.”

You open your mouth just enough for him to slide the joint between your moisturised lips. You circle your lips around it, just grazing his thumb nail. He clears his throat. 

“That’s it, just like that, good girl.” Your breath catches in your throat; he laughs under his breath at your widened eyes. You pray the heat pooling between your thighs isn't evident on your face.

“Good, Princess, now take a deep breath, and let the smoke go in your lungs. Then, all y'gotta do is exhale.” 

He’s still holding the small tube between your lips for you. You inhale deeply, feeling the warm smoke fill your mouth. As its balmy scent enters your lungs, you feel it catch, coughing harshly. 

“Fuck, Lip, what the fuck?” you say between coughs, “Shit’s terrible!”

“This is primo stuff, Princess. That’s a you problem” his teasing smirk warps as his lips curl around the joint. He takes a long drag, blowing the smoke at you. You scrunch your face, making him laugh. You hope Lip doesn’t notice how your thighs press together when he laughs. 

“Okay, okay, asshole. Let me try again,” you say, making grabby hands at the rolled substance. 

After he takes another drag, he hands you the joint, eyeing the path it takes from his fingers to your lips. 

You place it between your teeth, curling your lips around it. You take a long drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs. You exhale slowly, watching the way the smoke twirls and curls against the backdrop of the Gallagher boys’ room. Your eyes drift closed, letting your body feel the effects of the drug. You feel light, but grounded. It’s unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

“Lip,” you breathe, shuffling next to him, letting your head loll against his shoulder. “This feels… weird.” He laughs heartily.

“Yeah, sweetheart, no shit. It’s weed, we’re getting high.” He examines your dozy face, a teasing look in his eyes.

You take another hit of the joint, breathing the air in his face, mirroring his earlier actions. He mimics your scrunched expression from earlier. You sit in comfortable silence for several minutes.

“Lip?” you whisper.

“Yeah, Princess.” 

You squish your cheek into the muscle of his shoulder, breathing in the slightly sweaty, slightly weed-y, smell of his clean white t-shirt.

“Y’know, all through highschool, I had…” you pause.

“Had what? Gonorrhea? Damn, you hid it well.” he laughs into fist, his hand pressed to his teeth.

“No, Lip,” you groan, “I had... the fattest crush on you. Especially after you started to tutor my best friend.”

You sit in silence for a moment. Your mind begins to spin. Fuck, did I really tell Lip fucking Gallagher I used to like him? What am I doing?

And then he laughs. Not cruelly, not with malice. He sounds surprised. Almost… relieved? He straightens his back, eyes looking you up and down.

“Fuck, Princess, if I knew that then, I’d’ve done this way sooner,” he whispers.

You blink, and begin to respond. As you open your mouth to ask more, you feel his chapped lips against yours.

He kisses you softly, tentatively. Almost like he’s scared to break you. 

You thread your fingers through his curls, deepening the kiss. Your nails scrape the nape of his neck. His tongue grazes your bottom lip, and you whimper.

What the hell? I don’t whimper. What is going on with me? You almost lose yourself in the swirling of your thoughts, but then, Lip’s hand slides up your thigh.

You pivot on your knee to straddle him, hands gliding down his muscular chest. You scrunch his t-shirt in your fists.

You begin to kiss down the angle of his jaw, lips sliding over the stubble that’s grown as a result of not shaving this morning. He groans into your clavicle, placing a soft bite on the bone. You moan, breathing in the heady scent of his scalp. His hands slide further up your thighs, squeezing the fat. You grind your hips down, feeling the tent that’s struggling through the denim of his jeans. He lets out a low moan from the friction, and you feel his thumbnail graze over the wetness on the seam of your tight shorts.

“Fuck, Princess,” he groans, tossing his head back. You giggle. “Let’s fuckin’ do this.”

Fin

[spooky-pomegranate]

Eyes on Fire (pt 5)

*Enemies to Lovers inspired by the Year Zero music video*

Papa Emeritus II x Reader (18+) Word Count: 3.8k Read on AO3 Get caught up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Next chapter: (Part 6)

Summary: You befriend a ghoul close to Papa Secondo and learn that appearances aren't always what they seem. Meanwhile, Secondo deals with new feelings that threaten to consume him.

(Dividers by @wrathofrats)

It’d been hours since you woke up in Secondo’s bedroom. He’d left you in a hurry not long after you’d risen, claiming he had “important duties to attend to,” but not before demanding you stay and rest for the remainder of the day.

You’d objected.

Even though you’d slept for ten hours you’d felt fine, albeit a bit disoriented and hungrier than a horse. The only thing you’d really wanted to do was scurry off to the ghoul dens and tell Mountain everything that had happened before crashing in his oversized bed.

But Secondo never offered you that choice.

“You will stay until I return sorrella,” he had said.

And to make sure you followed his orders, Secondo had called for Alpha to watch over you. You’d seen Alpha many times over the years but you had never actually talked to the quiet fire ghoul. He didn’t interact much with humans and the circle of ghouls he associated with was small. Omega. Crust. Occasionally Aero.

Primo summoned him years before you joined the church, but everyone knew where his loyalties truly lied. For as long as you could remember, Alpha had been Secondo’s right-hand ghoul. Day in and day out the two were an inseparable pair. There were of course rumors that the fire ghoul was Secondo’s secret lover but you never believed those whispers. It always seemed to you that Alpha followed Secondo around more like a loyal knight protecting his king rather than a groupie chasing after a Papa in shimmering robes. Duty and honor just felt more likely than love and lust.

But there was a plus side to being held hostage in Secondo’s chambers by the stoic fire ghoul. Before Secondo had left he’d given Alpha two commands. The first, annoyingly, was that under no conditions were you allowed to leave… but the second command was the one that had you smiling mischievously from ear to ear.

“While she’s here she wants for nothing,” Papa Secondo had said.

Wants for nothing…

There was no way, Secondo knew what he had done. It was like handing a kid the keys to the candy store. And ohhhhhh were you going to indulge, until your sweet tooth rotted. So far you’d tested the boundaries by ordering a ginormous breakfast. Eggs, bacon, fresh fruit, cinnamon rolls, hash-browns, bagels, salmon. Hell, you even ordered the expensive caviar the senior clergy had on hand for the more lavish parties. You’d ordered everything that the kitchen could make until it filled up almost the entirety of Secondo’s bedroom floor. The spread had been like a dream. Salty. Sweet. Savory.

With enough food to feed a small army, you’d stuffed yourself full and somehow managed to convince your captor to eat as well. Before long both you and Alpha were giggling and laughing as you passed platters of delicious food back and forth.

Surprisingly Alpha was more game to let loose than you’d expected. After breakfast, you’d asked him for half a dozen boquets of fresh flowers and he’d immediately called Primo’s greenhouse without complaint, even suggesting you up the number to a whole dozen.

You nearly died laughing when Mountain had answered on the other end.

“Twelve arrangements. To…to Papa Secondo’s chambers? Really? No. That’s no problem. And when do you need them? ‘As soon as we can.’ Okay. Yeah. No. No, we can do that. We’ll have them delivered in a few hours. Any preference in flower or color?”

Alpha had cocked an eyebrow at you then.

“Something pretty.”

“Something pretty,” he parroted with a smile into the phone.

At your request, Alpha also put in a call to have your record player delivered alongside a handful of your favorite albums and a set of large speakers. By lunchtime, almost every free surface of Papa’s chambers was covered in roses and lilies of varying colors and you were having a great time dancing with your new friend.

During a break in the music and as Alpha picked out a new record, you took some time to look around Papa’s space. His chambers had been… surprising. You expected Secondo to live in a cold and dark place. Something unwelcoming and offputting much like the man himself. But that wasn’t the case. Secondo’s space was beautiful.

Thick oriental carpets covered the cold stone floors and several warm-looking fur blankets laid on a leather couch by an onyx fireplace. Black candles outnumbered the few electric lamps scattered around, casting the room in a fiery glow. Every single piece of furniture looked comfortable and inviting like it was chosen for its purpose over its form. Soft lines, plush fabrics, and rich colors were everywhere.

There were also dozens of beautifully framed art pieces on the wall; sprawling watercolor landscapes of the Abbey’s grounds, a series of charcoal depictions of His fall from grace, and even a few portraits of his brothers from decades prior. Primo with more hair. Terzo with less wrinkles.

Everything about the space felt carefully curated and yet surprisingly lived-in. If it had been anyone else’s room you could have easily imagined yourself here at the end of a long day. Slipping your heels off to walk barefoot on the carpets, curling up on the couch with a glass of wine, letting the fireplace lull you to sleep. It all sounded nice until you remembered the man you’d have to share it with.

You turned away from an oil painting of the Abbey’s winter gardens and moved to the far left corner of Secondo’s room where a small mahogany desk sat. While everyone in the upper clergy had an office in the eastern wing, it was clear that Secondo liked to work from his room. And by the sheer volume of things on his desk, you guessed that work usually ran late into the night.

There were dozens of books scattered about. Some of them open to various pages. Others had hundreds of rainbowed colored plastic tabs sticking out of them. Under the piles of books, you noticed a stack of half-written sermons and lyrics. Immediately you recognized one song. Per Aspera Ad Inferi. It was the same Dew, Cumulus, and Aururoa had played for you in the dens.

As Alpha placed the needle on the next record, you shuffled through some more of Secondo’s unfinished lyrics, sliding pages under pages. Though each song was different, it was clear that Secondo was working on a cohesive work. Everything was heavy on religious themes and doctrines. Satan and his teachings were always at the forefront. There were no love songs. Nothing that spoke of joy or hope. Just dark, heavy verses focusing on reckoning and penance.

“Do you want to dance some more?” Alpha asked, crossing the room as a light jazz song played in the air. You nodded and met the fire ghoul in the middle of the room. Taking his clawed hand in yours the two of you began to sweep around the room in a playful airtight waltz.

“Alpha?” you asked, pressed against the ghoul.

“Yes, sorella.”

“Can I ask you about Papa?”

Alpha’s eyes quickly shot down to yours. “If you are going to ask if he and I-”

“No,” you interrupted. “That’s not. I wasn’t,” you stammered quickly. You didn’t want Alpha to think that you were a gossip. That wasn’t what you wanted to know. “Do you think if you made him angry enough that he’d actually send you back to…” You didn’t need to finish your question. Both you and Alpha knew there was only one place Secondo could return him to.

Alpha stopped dancing, clearly taken aback by the question. His hand froze against your back. “No.”

“Really? Are you sure?”

“Papa knows I am loyal to him.” Alpha's voice was firm, "He trusts me, perhaps more than he should. But I am bound to him, sorella, just as you are now bound here by his command."

“Why?”

Alpha turned away from you, a flicker of something unreadable crossed his face before it was gone. “Papa is misunderstood sorella. You might see anger and rage but there’s more there. There is always more.”

“But you’re sure? You’re sure he’d never do that to you?”

Alpha spun back around and looked down at you, cocking his head to the side, a reminder that sometimes ghouls were more animal-like than human. “Yes. I am sure. But why are you asking me this?”

“Well as lovely a dance partner as you are,” you smiled, “I think it’s time we let loose around here Alpha.” The fire ghoul's eyes twinkled impishly and you realized for as stoic as he’d appeared, Alpha was just as mischievous as you were. “Just two more questions. What's your favorite kind of alcohol? And can I borrow the phone?”

"I have a preference for absinthe," he replied, a sly grin stretching across his face. With a nod, he gestured towards the phone on the desk. You smiled back at your new friend and picked up the phone on Secondo’s bedside table.

“Good afternoon Cardinal Terzo. Yes. Yes, it’s me. I was wondering… do you have any absinthe?”

Secondo had a rough day.

He’d fired his assistant the moment she’d walked into his office and in her absence, his paperwork had piled high. He couldn’t blame the oblivious sorella for that though. She’d only been in his service for a month and had yet to figure out how he liked his coffee or how little he’d liked her idle chit-chat. Secondo knew even if he hadn’t fired her, she probably wouldn’t have helped make a dent in his work.

It was his own fault. He had been distracted.

All day he’d thought of you.

Again and again, he replayed the moment you’d woken up in his room. How small you looked in his massive bed, how terrified you’d been when you’d seen him watching over you, how you’d struggled to catch your breath before jumping out of his sheets. It was all he could think about.

Even after everything that happened Secondo still felt that the Old One had put you in his life for a reason. And while he was pretty sure it was because he needed to make you a better member of the church something was nagging at Secondo, pulling at the back of his mind, like a loose thread he couldn’t reach, that maybe… just maybe he was wrong about that.

But something was connecting you two.

Secondo could feel it. When he was with you he felt something dig in his chest. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. It ached and burned and scratched at his insides but when he’d left you this morning… the burning fizzled away. The scratch, the ache all of it was gone. And for some strange reason, he missed it.

Was it another sign he wondered? To want to feel the pain? To need it? To be consumed by it? Sathanas how he wanted to feel it again. But was he supposed to want that? Was he turning into the masochist the siblings whispered he was for wanting that?

If only he could speak to the Dark Lord. If only he had some guidance he could know exactly what to do. If only…

No.

Secondo stopped himself.

As badly as he wanted to commune with the Dark Lord, wallowing in his self-pity wouldn’t solve his problem. He had to move forward. And he would.

He had a plan.

Secondo decided he would ask you to be his assistant again today. He wasn’t sure if you remembered the brief conversation he’d had with you about it before everything turned to shit last night. But he would ask you again. And he would phrase it as less of a choice. He needed you close. He may not be sure why yet. But he knew that he needed to feel that ache you caused.

Secondo sat at his desk, a glass of whiskey in hand, as he poured over the same text for what felt like hours until eventually the clock in the corner struck seven times. The day had come and gone. The pile on his desk remained and now it was time for dinner. Distracted by you, Secondo had skipped every meal and opted instead to snack on a handful of crisps and sweets he kept in his desk throughout the day. He wasn’t interested in going to the dining room now either. His Imperatrix could have the day off. He needed to get back to you. He needed to feel the ache.

But as Secondo stood to leave, he felt another kind of ache. His stomach growled, loud and long. He decided to make a quick pit stop at the kitchens before returning to his room. An hour later, balancing two dinner plates covered in silver cloches, Secondo carefully opened the door to his chambers.

He never expected what was waiting for him on the other side.

His room was full. Every square inch was covered in swaying warm bodies as up-tempo music pulsed from a pair of speakers by the door. Dozens of maskless ghouls danced and drank together out of red plastic cups. They smiled and laughed, singing along to the song blaring from the big black speakers. The smell of liquor and sweat mixed with something sweeter he couldn’t place.

And in the center of it all, was you.

You stood in the middle of his room, pressed tightly against Terzo. Secondo watched as his brother's hands roamed against the soft curve of your back and down your sides as he danced with you. The two of you moved lasciviously, chest to chest in tune with the pounding bass. Eyes locked on one another smiles beamed on both of your faces.

Secondo started to move forward but froze as Terzo dipped you low causing your hair, free from your usual veil, to cascade towards the ground like a waterfall. The crowd of ghouls around you whooped and hollered. Secondo heard Alpha let out a long wolf whistle from the other side of the room.

You laughed as Terzo set you back on your feet and whispered something briefly in your ear. Without missing a beat, you reached behind you, and grabbed a bottle of absinthe, taking a long swig before passing it to Terzo. A small river of the green spirit dribbled down the corner of your mouth, slicking your lips and landing on the white collar of your habit. Secondo’s jaw clenched as you laughed again, tossing your head back before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

But then it was your turn to freeze. Like a deer caught in headlights every muscle in your body tensed as your eyes met Secondo’s.

And he felt it again. The burn. The ache. The pain he’d daydreamed of. It all slammed into Secondo’s chest until he felt ready to implode like a dying star.

For what felt like an eternity neither of you moved. Like two statues forced to face one another by a curator's judicious hand, the party continued around you. Bodies swayed and drinks flowed. One song ended and another began. It wasn’t until Terzo stepped in front of you, blocking his brother’s view, that Secondo dropped the twin cloches onto his entry table with a loud bang and every set of eyes in the room snapped in his direction.

“Out!” Secondo roared over the loud music. “Everyone out now!”

Alpha appeared quickly, ripping the speakers' cord from the wall. The music stopped abruptly. “I’m sorry Papa,” the fire ghoul started, “You said that she shouldn’t want for-”

“Go,” Secondo interrupted, without taking his eyes off of you. “I will deal with you in the morning.”

“Yes, Papa,” Alpha answered, tucking his tail between his legs before scurrying out of the room. The other ghouls quickly followed, quietly piling into the hall until only you and Terzo remained. You stood awkwardly beside Terzo, absinthe bottle still in hand. Secondo slowly walked toward you.

“Mi scuso, fratello.” Terzo's hand dropped from your waist as he gave you a little smirk and continued speaking in his native tongue, “Non sapevo lei ti appartenesse.”

You didn’t understand what Terzo had said, but you knew it had made Secondo angry. His temples flared and he swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing heavy in his throat. Secondo stopped inches from Terzo, leaning over him until his younger brother had to crane his neck up to meet his glare.

“Le hai dato la chiave della sua stanza, idiota. Sai che è la mia Imperatrix,” Secondo said. His voice was even but you knew there was a controlled calmness that belied a storm raging beneath his surface.

You worried for Terzo.

You hadn’t meant to get anyone else in trouble with your little stunt. You’d only hoped to prove to Secondo that you weren’t something he could control while having a little fun at his expense. But of course, he would turn to rage. Secondo seemed to be the only person in this god-forsaken Abbey who hated fun.

But to your surprise, Cardinal Terzo seemed unafraid of his older brother’s anger. His smile widened and he laughed as he spoke, “Non è quello che intendevo, Secondo... conosco il titolo della sorella.”

“Parla chiaramente, fratello.”

“I am only saying,” Terzo began, glancing at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “that I know her title. She may be your Imperatrix, but she dances like a diavolessa.” You felt a blush rise to your cheeks. “Non sapevo lei l'avessi reclamata per te stesso. Troverò altre bellissime sorelle con cui giocare. Vedo che lei è tua adesso. Non sei mai stato bravo a condividere, vero Secondo? Mi scuso.” With a final wink in your direction, Terzo swept out of the room, leaving you alone with Secondo.

“Coglione,” Secondo muttered under his breath before reaching for the bottle of absinthe in your hand and gently, setting it aside.

You hadn’t realized how grounding the bottle had been until you were left swaying on your feet without it. You could feel your pulse beat through each of your fingers as blood rushed everywhere but your head. Shit. How much of that stuff had you drunk?

“You have overstepped, sorella.” Secondo hissed. “My generosity has been taken for granted.”

“Generosity?!” you screamed, your voice cracking with frustration. “You locked me in here like a prisoner! You sent a literal beast from hell to make sure I couldn’t escape! And you want to call it generosity?!”

“You have used my position for your amusement today. No?”

“So what?!” you argued. “What’s the point of having all this,” you challenged, waving your hands around his beautiful room filled with food, flowers, and booze, “if you don't even enjoy it? Why have nice things? Why have whatever you want at your beck and call if you don’t even enjoy it?”

“Ostentatiousness is an offering to Him,” he replied stiffly, his tone brooking no argument.

“But aren’t you supposed to enjoy overindulging? Fucking hell, do you ever enjoy anything?!”

Secondo remained quiet, turning away from you and staring into the fireplace. You could have let things go then, but the alcohol had loosened your tongue and you were tired of holding back. You were never any good at it anyway, especially around him.

Fuck it.

“You just want everyone around you to be as pissed off and miserable as you are. You know I’ve never even seen Alpha smile until today? God, you don’t even fuck like you enjoy it!”

Secondo spun around immediately. His eyes blazed with fury. “Sit down,” he growled.

You sat immediately. You didn’t know why but you did. Even Secondo looked surprised before he regained his composure and stepped closer to you on the couch. His legs pushed your knees apart until he was standing in between your thighs. You slid back against the couch. The cool leather pressed against your neck, and you looked up at Secondo. You could smell him. Cologne and incense swirled around you. He leaned down, placing his hands against the couch on either side of your head, boxing you in.

“Do you think Sister Luciana enjoyed it? When I fucked her and you watched, crouched from the doorway like a piccolo topo. Tell me sorella do you think she enjoyed it?”

A lump formed in your throat. All you could do was spit out a vowel. “I…”

One of Secondo’s hands moved from the back of the couch to cup your jaw. His gloved thumb brushed across the supple plains of your cheek and you held your breath.

“You don’t think I could make you scream if I touched you like that?” he whispered softly. “You don’t think I could make you cum until you’ve seen the stars above?”

Secondo tilted your jaw up with his index finger and cocked his head to the side, parting his painted lips. Your eyes roamed over his face. Taking in every line, every fleck of paint, every small scar that dotted his chiseled face. Hot and humid, you breathed each other's air. He leaned closer again and you closed your eyes, bracing for the feeling of his lips against your own, anticipating the taste of him on your tongue.

And you let yourself want.

You wanted it. You wanted to taste him. To have him. To feel him. Maybe you’d gone mad. But anger and lust had never felt more like two sides of the same coin than in that moment.

But then everything faded away.

The hand on your cheek vanished. The smell of spice and wood disappeared. The warm slide of his legs against your inner thighs turned cold and you opened your eyes. Secondo had pulled away, taking a step back and standing upright. His eyes softened slightly before he turned his back on you and steadied himself with a long drawn-out exhale.

“I will see you in my office at 6:00 am tomorrow, sorella.”

You left Secondo’s chambers quickly after that, mind racing. What the hell just happened? Was that just another kind of power play from Papa? Or was it something else? Something different? When you’d been dancing with Terzo he’d looked at you differently. There’d been something there. Something hidden behind his paints and chiseled scowl. But what was it? And why did you care?

Lost in a haze of intoxication and your muddled thoughts you stumbled your way through the dimly lit corridors of the Abbey, and back to your chambers. Maybe if you’d left Secondo's room earlier, or had a few less swigs of Terzo’s absinthe, you would have noticed the pair of eyes that followed you from Papa’s chambers to your door. But the night was late and the shadows were long. You would have to deal with your stalker in the daytime.

Next chapter: (Part 6) Go back: (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Read on AO3)

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Hola familia, we are entering the Reyes Primos chapter 🥰 Thank you for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @ironheartwriter @corsage & @heartstringsduet 💕

Anita was the first person Carlos came out to, his sisters having been out of the house by the time he was ready to come to terms with his sexuality, to say it out loud. She’d had the decency to pretend to be surprised by his admission at the time, although even then he’d suspected she’d already guessed.

She teases him about it now, about the skinny boy who’d sat next to her on the porch swing out at the Reyes family ranch and nervously told her, voice quivering, that he thought he might like boys. She’d grabbed his shaking hand and said, “Cool.” Then asked if there were any hot guys at his school.

Anita had been away at college in Los Angeles when Carlos married Iris. She was furious when she found out what he’d done. After she heard from Chuey, who heard from Andrea after the fact, Anita called Carlos and asked him if he’d fallen and hit his head. “You’re gay, Carlitos. Did you forget?” But Carlos was stubborn and the wedding had already happened, so she reluctantly supported him from 1300 miles away.

So it’s fitting that Anita, who’s been with Carlos through it all, seen him struggle so much to be open about his sexuality with his parents, who’d loved him enough to call him an idiot for marrying a woman he didn’t love, couldn’t love. It’s fitting that she took one look at TK and instantly fell in love.

“He’s perfect for you, Carlitos,” she’d said with big brown shiny eyes as they sat side by side on that rusty old porch swing after that first Sunday lunch and watched TK dutifully follow Gabriel around the edge of the yard, pointing out the pecan trees Carlos had helped him plant when he was a boy. They were trailed by the flock of three Australian shepherds that belong to his Tío Luis, all of whom had been instantly enamored with TK.

“He must really love you if he’s willing to sit through Tío Gabriel’s garden tour,” Anita joked.

“He likes nature,” Carlos shrugged.

“Mmhmm,” she said, hiding a smirk behind the neck of her beer bottle.

Tagging @carlos-in-glasses @nisbanisba @chicgeekgirl89 @captain-gillian @literateowl @emsprovisions @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @orchidscript @honeybee-taskforce @thisbuildinghasfeelings @welcometololaland @eclectic-sassycoweyes @tellmegoodbye @ladytessa74 @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @basilsunrise @lightningboltreader @liminalmemories21 @freneticfloetry @sapphic--kiwi @herefortarlos @firstprince-history-huh @fitzherbertssmolder @fifthrideroftheapocalypse @strandnreyes @paperstorm @filet-o-feelings @fallout-mars @your-catfish-friend @kiwichaeng @tinyluminaryzombie @guardian-angle22 @rmd-writes @iboatedhere @reyesstrand @never-blooms @decafdino @certifiedflower and OPEN TAG 🏷️

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Valentine's Day Special 2025 - Part 1

MDNI. This part isn't smutty, but the future ones are. Messing With the Missionary Man AU!

Part 1 - The Gifting Vinnie gifts the Papas Clone-A-Willy kits a few days before Valentine's. Thanks to @papasmicstand for the inspo behind this series :p Read on AO3

        It had started as a joke. A joke that may have involved too much liquor. Vinnie giggled quietly as she added four items to her online shopping basket, then four more products when the site prompted her to add suggested items to the cart. Terzo grumbled beside her, shifting and sliding his arm around her. "What are you doing, amore?" he mumbled, barely conscious. "Just reading something funny," she responded quietly. "Don't worry about it." He grunted in acknowledgment, his hand absently stroking her leg. "You should be sleeping…" his sentence slipped into a soft snore. "Soon," she patted his arm, fully aware he wouldn't hear her. Double checking the cart, she grinned and added a few other suggested items before going to the final check out page. "Options are always good," she murmured to herself. She put in her payment info and selected the fastest shipping method. There wasn't a lot of time before Valentine's Day and she was planning to surprise Terzo — and the other Papas.

        The large box was delivered to the Edinburgh apartment, and Vinnie had Chuck teleport her over to bring it in so she could get to work. Laying out the gift wrapping supplies she'd found, she cut open the large box, grinning like a maniac. Pulling out the brown packing paper, she couldn't help the joy she felt pulling out the four Clone-A-Willy kits, extra casting supplies, and the cock rings. Terzo was going to kill her — Secondo might as well, but the joke would be worth it. Chuck was snoring quietly on the sofa behind her, unaware or uncaring of the mischief his human was up to. Grabbing a stack of Post Its, Vinnie quickly scribbled four copies of "In case you need help keeping it up for the process — or after!" and taped them to the cock ring packages. Glow in the dark green for Secondo, neon purple for Terzo, glow in the dark blue for Copia, and for whimsy, glow in the dark pink for Primo. Vinnie was a tiny bit sad that the purple wasn't glow in the dark as well, but if Terzo complained she'd tell him to go fuck himself — with his own dick. This was as close as she could get to their obsessive colour coding with the website's offerings.

        She opened the black gift bags, tucking the items carefully inside before topping them with red tissue. Picking up the curling ribbon she'd bought, she mixed black and gold ribbon with each Papa's colour to indicate whose bag was whose. Smirking, she shoved them into a nondescript tote bag and roused Chuck. The demonic being snorted awake, giving her a half glare. "Sorry, buddy, time to go back. Let's put your sweater on and we'll go get a bacon butty before we leave though, okay?" The dog-like demon haphazardly rolled to his feet, shaking himself before stretching with a yawn. Vinnie helped him into the chunky dog sweater they used to disguise him in the regular world, and got her own gear on. Making a mental note to bring back a number of items so she'd have jackets and shoes in future, she headed down to the street, followed by Chuck. Finding the favoured chippy a few blocks down from the flat, she greeted the owner, ordering several bacon butties. "All for you?" he asked jovially, as he often did. "Only about half," she responded with a smile. "The rest are for Chuck." The owner greeted Chuck fondly, tossing him a piece of bacon. "Our favourite customer!" Vinnie laughed, and nodded, paying for her order. "You know, some days he brings us things. The oddest one though… I was trying to find a part for one of the appliances and he just… showed up with it." "Chuck is definitely, erm, special." She gave a nervous smile and a shrug.

        Omega greeted her in the papal apartment upon her return, eyes bright. "Bacon butties?!" he asked excitedly. "Yes, bacon butties," she responded, happily handing him four. "Is Terzo here or his office?" "He was in his office, but as soon as I realized you were bringing bacon butties, I came here. He might be on his way?" The ghoul grinned sheepishly. "I'm not sure I like how in tune you're becoming with me," Vinnie muttered. "Gonna make it harder to do things…" "Aww, c'mon, princess, it just means we're getting closer!" he teased with a smirk. "Who knows what it could lead to." "Calm down, lover boy." The apartment door opened and Terzo hurried in. "Did he eat them all? Or did Chuck get them?!" Vinnie held up two of the wrapped bacon butties, accepting her kiss on the cheek as Terzo took them and hurried to sit down. "What's in the bag?" he eventually asked between mouthfuls of food. "Oh, just a little something for you and your brothers. A little Valentine's Day gift." "Is that all you're going to tell me?" Vinnie nodded, taking a bite of her own bacon butty. "You can wait until I hand them out at the next family supper. It's only a few days away." Terzo pouted a little, and Vinnie shook her head with a playful sigh. "I should have left them in Edi, shouldn't I?"

        The family supper went as per usual — the brothers arguing about cooking, wine, anything under the sun. Gabe and Vinnie looked at things on their phones, and Val sat beside Copia reading a book. Finally, everyone had settled with their after-dinner drink of choice, and Vinnie pounced on the perfect opportunity. "I have something for everyone," she announced, pulling her tote bag from beside the sofa. Curious murmurings reached her ears and she quickly handed Primo, Secondo, Terzo and Copia their gift bags. Gabe's eyes widened. "You didn't…" "I did." She confirmed triumphantly. Gabe turned bright pink, and wouldn't meet Secondo's gaze or answer his questioning about what was going on. "Go ahead, open them," Vinnie invited. Copia was first to get the gift bag open, eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he saw the box inside. He stammered as he fumbled the items, cheeks darkening. Val leaned over to look, and Copia squashed the bag against his chest, muttering something like, "Don't worry about it." "What, did she gift you a sex toy?" Val demanded, half in jest. "Something like that…" Copia mumbled, still hiding the bag's contents.

        Secondo was next to open his gift bag, scoffing when he saw the contents. "Really?" he asked coldly. "Gabe liked the idea," she shrugged. Secondo gave Vinnie a very serious amount of side eye then looked at his partner. "You want this, eh?" Gabe's pink blush turned beet red, and he looked away from Secondo, uttering, "Maybe." Secondo smirked, pulling the box out of the bag to show off the Clone-A-Willy kit. "What are the other things in here?" "Well, if you don't want it to vibrate, you need extra silicone to fill it, so there's that. Also extra mold making stuff in case you mess it up." "And this?" Secondo asked as he held up the cockring. "Well, most of you are old men, figured you might need some help." Terzo let out a strangled sound from beside her, and she gave him a cool look. "What?" "You know exactly what, uccellina." "Yeah, yeah, you and Satan's boner pact. I don't know if your brothers have that." Terzo scowled at her, setting his bag down without opening it. "I'm not sure I want you this interested in my brother's cocks or sex lives." Vinnie rolled her eyes. "I'm not interested, Terzo; these are gag gifts."

        A quiet chuckle drifted from the other side of the seating area, and Primo sat with the box in hand, reading it. "Glow in the dark, hm? And pink?" He grinned. "It was the closet to red they had." "What am I supposed to do with this, fiordaliso?" Primo asked with amusement. "Make a copy of your dick," Vinnie stated bluntly. "You can decorate your office, or gift it to someone, or buy a strap if you're having some… performance… issues… Or gift the kit to someone else." She shrugged. Terzo sat beside her with a long suffering look. "You could put a copy of your dick in the archives," she offered helpfully. Terzo swore beside her. "Vinnie! Even releasing the Phallos Mortuus we didn't make a copy of Secondo's dick!" "Aw, are you jealous or worried that people might like their dicks more than yours?" "No!" Primo let out another entertained chuckle. "Many options. Thank you, Vinnie. If nothing else, the laugh does one good." Terzo rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "We should leave." "Aw, c'mon, Terzo. Where's your sense of whimsy? You don't want a copy of your dick in the archives forever?" "That is definitely not where I currently want my dick." He stood, grabbing the gift bag, before grabbing her arm. "We'll see you later!" "Ooh, kinky!" Vinnie laughed, letting Terzo pull her towards the door.

Thanks for reading! I'll try to remember to come back and hyperlink these later when they're posted.

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5