#dj's power's back party

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Okayyy for my second, separate divider request (please feel free to do this after the event since I’m doubling up).

I have been slowly creating a fic that runs the same time as SBN ✨ approaching the second half of TBB season 2 from Rex’s perspective pulling together the clone rebellion. It will be called Compass Pointing North, and Rex is symbolized as the North Star and guiding light for all his brothers and many other people. I was half giddy coming across these beautiful works by @lornaka and @pinkiemme symbolizing Rex as stars as well, and absolutely love the slightly soft, ethereal colors they both used. (I may be using Lorna’s with permission as a cover image as well).

Since this won’t need an MDNI version, would it be possible to get both a still and a gif version? No worries if not :). Maybe one could say “support writers - reblog - comment” and the other could say “reblogs and comments are love” OR hear me out: one could say “reblog if Rex is your North Star” 😅✨

Thank you soooo much for working on these! Can’t wait to see all of them and to get this fic out into the world!

THE GASP I GUSPED. Everything about this made me scream! Rex?! TBB S2 Part 2?! The North Star symbolism?!? The STUNNING artwork?!?! I couldn't possibly be more hyped right now. I created two versions, one animated and one static for each. I hope you love them! I did my best to meet the vibe of @lornaka's beautiful work.

[born-to-lose]

"No more giving my number out to random people who flirt with me at work" I say as if I'm not going into the next shift with a pen and tissues in my pocket

[shewolfofvilnius]

It's fascinating how even though you don't always hear about \ anyone other than Astarion, every origin companion in BG3 has an endgame/epilogue state that is either outright bad for them or at the very least "not as good as they deserve".

Obvious there have been books and 100,000 pages of fic and discourse written about Ascended Astarion. In the moments when he almost acts like his old self, even then it's merely humoring you with a whim.

Mother Superior DJ Shadowheart flat out admits to severe empathy for what Viconia went through, and has fully closed herself off from any sense of attachment or feeling other than Nocturne and Tav. Her continued need to find carve-outs and exceptions and loopholes parallels Viconia's own eventual disagreements with Shar. And as we know, Shar will eventually betray or abandon her if Shadowheart doesn't betray her first. It's the story of every devout Sharran we meet.

Gale, the God is a smug arrogant hubris-ridden asshole that's even mean to Tara in the epilogue. Nearly every single sentiment he expressed about why he wanted the Crown and to ascend is immediately inverted. Of course he's not going to interfere. He's a figure of aspiration. Once he received power himself he immediately forgot and forsook everyone and everything about why he wanted it in the first place. A romanced God Gale is SLIGHTLY more grounded but that's mostly just because you ground him. And if you ascend with him, that ends that.

Lae'zel's return to Vlaakith results in her ascension, which leads to her missing the party and being very dead. The things that Lae'zel claimed to value will never truly be as long as Vlaakith rules, and her not escaping and falling back into her people's death cult robs her of the ability to create a new Gith, a better Gith.

Karlach is dead, or almost as bad, a Mind Flayer. And while most of her initial personality remains, by six months in she's already grown emotionally distant and her personality is clearly and evidently being slowly overridden by the brains of the dying she consumes. She's forsaken the embrace of death for the guise of eternal continuation in her. And even surrounded by the ten people who should mean the most in the world to her, all she mostly thinks about is others' perceptions of her (ala the Emperor) and the fact that she's hungry. Mind Flayer Karlach even notes that she used to think becoming a Mind Flayer would be the worst thing ever, but now she likes it. Shades of the Emperor x1000 and a clear sign that the Karlach we know and love is rapidly becoming a memory.

and then there's Grand Duke Wyll. On the surface, it appears the happiest of the "bad" endings, but pay attention. Note how he discusses wheeling and dealing and making agreements with patriars. (How well has contracts and deals worked out for you in the past?) Oh, and in certain conditions including romance, Wyll will offer you the chance to become a Grand Duke as well - with the others being his father (Ravengard #3) and Florrick (Wyll/Ulder's longest lasting family friend). That's not a government of the people for the people. When the power is tied up by a husband, spouse, his father, and their most trusted advisor, that's the makings of a monarchy or oligarchy. Of the type of patriar power-claim to last for generations, something Wyll himself once mocked. Oh, and if you adopt a child, then you get into the worst part of it all: Wyll's been busy running a city, and oh hey, instead of y'all bringing YOUR FOUR MONTH OLD DAUGHTER with you, hey, she'll be cool being watched by the Ilmater temple for a night right? Sorry, Wyll, were you saying something a few months ago about distant parenting? Yikes.

[xo-hoon]

club nights — DJ p.sh

minors do not interact!

pairing: dj!sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: smut, strangers to lovers (maybe)

synopsis: you just wanted to unwind after studying hard for your upcoming exams. little did you expect that your quest for relaxation turned into an electrifying connection that left you pleasantly surprised.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: contains smut MDNI! unprotected sex (don’t..), fingering, public sexual interaction, clubbing, intimate dancing, slight alcohol consumption.

You were sprawled on your bed, textbooks and notes scattered around like a battlefield.

You were powering through your study session, knowing full well you'd ace your exams. This was more about keeping the edge sharp than actual worry.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Wonyoung

Wony🐰: big night for jay’s celebration. clubbing’s on us. come on, you deserve a break!

You smirked, your focus momentarily shifting from the textbooks. Before you could reply, Winter’s call came through.

“Y/N, you coming to Jay’s party? It’s gonna be epic. You need to let loose for a bit."

“Yeah, I’ll be there. Just finishing up some stuff first.”

You answered with a casual tone.

Winter chuckled.

“Thought you might say that. See you soon.”

You ended the call and tossed your phone aside, gathered your things with a practiced efficiency, and slipped into your clubbing gear—something that combined effortless style with a hint of rebellion.

The exams were no sweat, but tonight was about embracing the energy and leaving the stress behind.

As you headed out, you knew you’d hit the ground running again tomorrow, but for now, it was time to reclaim the night.

The lights flicker in a chaotic dance with the bass, casting shadows that meld with the crowd's movement. You were nestled in a dimly lit corner, nursing a drink that’s losing its chill. Your friends are lost in the pulsating rhythm on the dance floor, but you're craving something different—something with an edge.

As you watched the swarming sea of bodies, you catch snippets of conversations and laughter. The usual group of guys has wandered over, but their small talk falls flat. They offer nothing but predictable flattery and lackluster charm.

Your gaze sweeps through the crowd until it landed on the DJ.

He was almost surreal, his features striking and chiseled as if crafted by divine hands. The way he commands the decks, lost in the rhythm, makes him look effortlessly magnetic. Every movement is fluid and intense, and there’s an undeniable allure about him that keeps your eyes locked on him.

But despite your fascination, you held back from approaching. You’ve always been the one to stay aloof, letting others make the first move.

Tonight, you were determined to stick to that principle.

If he’s interested, he’ll have to find a way to chase you—because that's how things have always worked for you.

You spent the night there, stealing glances at him from time to time. You knew right then and there that you wanted him.

—

Over the past few weeks, you've returned to this exact club every night, disregarding your exams because you knew you'd ace them anyway.

The club was throbbing with energy as usual, and you were nestled in your favorite corner, watching the DJ work his magic at the booth. The music feels particularly electrifying, and your focus remains unwaveringly on him. A mix of curiosity and desire simmers beneath your cool exterior.

As the night wears on, a sober friend of a friend, someone you’ve seen around but never spoken to, strikes up a conversation with you. He was a regular and seems to know everything about the club’s inner workings.

After a few exchanged pleasantries and a bit of small talk, he leans in conspiratorially, as if sharing a well-kept secret.

“You know,” he says with a smirk, nodding toward the DJ booth, “that guy up there? His name is Park Sunghoon. He’s not just some random DJ. He’s actually loaded. His family’s got more money than they know what to do with.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he continues, “He’s got this whole other life. Runs a bunch of businesses and everything. But he’s here every night, spinning records because he genuinely loves it. He’s quite famous around here; definitely one of the best assets of this club. And despite the fact that girls are practically falling over themselves for him, he couldn’t care less. It’s like he’s got this whole detached cool thing going on. Makes him even more interesting, don’t you think?”

You were taken aback, sensing that he’s aware of your interest. “So, why does he stick around here if he’s got all that?”

The informant’s smirk widens, as if he’s been waiting for you to ask.

“Well, it’s obvious you’ve been keeping an eye on him. I figured you’d want to know. He sticks around because this is his sanctuary. No one bothers him about business or family here.”

You nod, feeling a mix of surprise and satisfaction at his perceptiveness. “Sounds like he’s got a lot more going on.”

“Exactly,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with knowing. “And he’s not one for easy connections. If you want to get to know him, you’ll have to bring something real to the table. He’s not impressed by the usual attempts.”

The revelation hits you with a jolt of excitement. The fact that Sunghoon is both wealthy and dedicated to his craft, combined with his indifference to the attention he gets, only deepens the intrigue you feel.

You thanked your informant with a nod, and he headed off, leaving you to process this new layer of mystery surrounding Sunghoon.

As the night progressed, you watched him with renewed interest. His effortless charisma and the way he immerses himself in his music take on a new significance. There’s a sense of challenge now, a question of whether you can penetrate the cool facade and discover what lies beneath.

The Next Night

You were at the club again, drink in hand, the familiar beat of the music pulsing through the air. The night is set for its usual course: you’re in your favorite corner, eyes fixed on Sunghoon at the DJ booth. It’s become a bit of a routine for you—an exercise in patience and subtlety.

Tonight, you were ready for what you have expected. To be just another night of silently sending your unspoken message: “Fuck me.”

You figured if you stared hard enough, he might have somehow pick up on it. It’s a game you’ve gotten used to, even if it seemed a little ridiculous. You were so focused on him until a guy approached you.

The guy was tall and confident, his smile effortlessly charming. "Hey there. Care for a dance?"

Normally, you’d turn a man down without a second thought, but tonight, you were feeling a bit adventurous. You considered the offer, a spark of curiosity piqued by the idea of doing something different. With a playful smile, you sat your drink down and nodded.

“Sure,” you said, rising from your seat. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

As you headed towards the dance floor, you stole one last glance at Sunghoon, who was focused on his turntables but would glance at your way occasionally.

You wondered if he noticed your change in routine. The night just might turned out to be more interesting than you’d anticipated.

The music is pulsating, and the crowd is moving in sync with the beats. As you start dancing, you make sure to catch Sunghoon’s eye, knowing he was watching.

You danced seductively, grinding and moving in intimate ways with the guy, all the while keeping Sunghoon in your peripheral vision. The guy seems to enjoy the attention but notices your focus elsewhere.

As you were dancing, you felt a presence behind you. The guy you were dancing with seemed to have sensed it too and steps aside, giving way to the new arrival.

And there he was. The famous Park Sunghoon emerges from the crowd, his gaze locked on you with a smirk.

He approached with purpose, his confidence radiating.

"Mind if I cut in?" Sunghoon’s voice was deep and smooth, and you can hear the hint of a challenge in it.

You turned to face him, your heart racing. "Not at all," you replied, flashing him a flirtatious smile.

Sunghoon took the guy’s place, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. The intensity between you two is palpable, and you can feel the heat of his body against yours.

"You’ve been coming here a lot," Sunghoon murmurs, his breath warm against your ear.

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. "Hmm, I have my reasons."

"Really? And what might that reason be?" Sunghoon asks, his voice low and intrigued.

You teased, "You'll have to find out."

Sunghoon's smile widens, and he pulled you even closer. The music faded into the background as you focused solely on each other. His hands were firm but gentle on your body, guiding you as you moved to the beat. The chemistry between you was undeniable, and you can feel the passion building.

"So, what made you decide to come back here night after night?" Sunghoon asked, his lips brushing against your ear.

You shivered at his touch, your voice barely a whisper. "I’m seeing someone."

"Someone like me?" he probed, his tone both teasing and serious.

"Maybe," you replied with a playful smile. "Or maybe someone who makes me feel this way."

Sunghoon's eyes darkened with desire as he looked at you. "And what is that feeling?"

You met his gaze, your voice steady but filled with longing. "Excited. Alive. Wet. Like I can’t get enough."

Sunghoon’s fingers traced a path down your side, sending shivers through you. "You’re making it hard for me to keep my distance."

You leaned closer, your lips almost touching his ear. "Then don’t."

The dance floor seems to blur around you as you lose yourself in the moment. Sunghoon's touch is electrifying, and you can feel the heat between you growing stronger. The music was pulsing around you, creating a perfect backdrop for the connection you're building.

After a few more songs, Sunghoon took your hand and guided you through the crowd, out of the club and into the cool night air. The contrast between the stifling heat of the club and the crispness of the night is refreshing.

You walked in silence for a moment, the adrenaline from the dance still coursing through your veins.

Sunghoon led you to a quieter, darker alleyway behind the club, away from prying eyes. The city's sounds faded as you stepped into the shadows, and he turned to face you. The intensity in his eyes was palpable, and you felt the electric charge between you.

He pressed you against the wall, his lips crashing onto yours in a fiery kiss. The urgency and passion of his touch took your breath away, and you responded eagerly, your hands exploring his body as his hands finds their way to your curves. Every touch, every kiss is a whirlwind of sensation, and you lost yourself in the moment.

Sunghoon’s hands slid under your dress, and you gasped as he found the sensitive spots that made you shiver. Your moans were muffled by his mouth as he kissed you deeply, his touch sending waves of pleasure through you.

His touch was both rough and tender, igniting a fire within you. You can feel his desire growing, and it heightens your own.

He lifted you slightly, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. The alleyway’s cold walls press against your back, but the warmth of his body and the intensity of his touch creates a cocoon of heat around you. The world outside seems distant and irrelevant; it's just the two of you and the throbbing beat of your hearts.

He pulled back slightly, making you slightly groan at the lack of closeness, his breath mingling with yours. His gaze is full of raw emotion, and you saw the hunger in his eyes.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

You smiled, your voice a soft purr. “That’s the idea.”

With renewed passion, Sunghoon's hands grew bolder as they roamed over your body, starting from your legs and moving up to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

The touch elicited a soft whimper from you, a sound that made his eyes darken with desire. Taking advantage of the moment, he plunged his tongue into your mouth, exploring it thoroughly and claiming it as his own.

He lifted on of your legs off the ground, securing your waist in a possessive grip as he pressed your body tightly against his.

Your fingers traced a slow, tantalizing path from his neck down to his broad chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles under your fingertips. They continued their journey to his defined abs, each touch sending shivers of excitement through you.

Just as you were about to reach for his clothed cock, his hand shot out to stop you, and with a swift, controlled movement, he pinned both your hands above your head, holding them there firmly.

“Fuck… Not so fast, baby.” He whispered in your mouth as you looked up at him, your breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. His eyes were dark and filled with desire.

“S-sunghoon.. please—“ He smirked at the sight of your neediness.

“Shh, let me handle this.” He lowered his head, trailing kisses down your neck, leaving a blazing trail of heat in his wake. You arched your back, pressing your body closer to his, craving more of his touch.

His other hand roamed over your body, exploring every curve and inch of your exposed skin that he could, making you even needier and wetter than you already were.

“Sunghoon… Please. I need you.” He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin.

“Patience, baby. Good things come from those who wait.”

His lips captured yours once again, and this time the kiss was sloppy and even more intense, filled with a hunger that leaves you breathless. He releases your hands, and you immediately tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

“I can’t wait anymore.”

“I know, baby.” He whispered against your lips.

With that, he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. He carries you to a more secluded area of the club, where the lights are dim and the music is just a distant thrum. He sets you down on a couch, his body pressing against yours.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked genuinely, you locked your eyes with his as you nodded.

“I have never been more sure,”

Sunghoon groaned at your response as his hands roam over your body again, this time more urgent, more demanding.

He slips his hand under your dress, fingers teasing the edge of your panties.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” He stared in to your eyes, his hand slipping inside your panties, fingers finding your most sensitive spot. You moan into his mouth, your body arching into his touch.

He continued to rub circles on your clit, thoroughly enjoying the expression you were giving him. You moved your hand to his, pushing his fingers deeper, indicating that you wanted him to give you more.

“So, so needy,” he murmured, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and desire. He leaned in, licking your earlobes before slipping two fingers inside you.

The sudden intrusion made you moan out loud, arching your back as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

“Fuck,” you breathed into his ear, your voice trembling with need. You began to grind your hips, matching the rhythm of his fingers. Each thrust of his hand sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more.

“Fuck me now, please. I want your cock inside me. Fuck me hard.”

He smirked against your neck, his fingers pumping in and out of you faster, curling just right to hit that perfect spot inside you.

“You want it that badly, huh?” he teased, his voice a low, seductive growl.

You could only nod frantically, your body desperate for more. “Yes, Sunghoon. Please,” you begged, your hips bucking against his hand. “I need you. Make me yours.”

His eyes darkened with lust as he withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and yearning. He quickly undid his pants, freeing his hard length. You glanced down, your eyes widening at the sight of him.

Without another word, he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you a bit by rubbing his tip against your wet folds. The sensation made you whimper, your hands clutching his broad shoulders.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he demanded, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I want you so fucking,” you gasped, your voice almost a plea. “I want you to fuck me hard, fuck me until I go dumb.”

With a groan, he thrust into you inch by inch, slowly filling you completely. The fullness made you cry out in pleasure, your nails digging into his skin.

Without letting you savor the moment of his cock deep inside you, he started to move in a rough, fast pace, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body, making you roll your eyes.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, your moans and his grunts blending with the pounding music in the background.

“God, you feel so good,” he panted, his lips crashing onto yours in a heated kiss. “So tight, so perfectly made for my cock.”

You could only moan in response, the pleasure overwhelming your senses. You matched his rhythm, meeting each of his powerful thrusts with equal fervor. The pressure built up inside you, threatening to explode.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna—” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling on the edge of release.

“Cum for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with need. “Cum all over my cock.”

With one more thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you. Your walls clenched around him in intense pleasure, making him moan.

Sunghoon continued thrusting into you, riding out his own high. Still sensitive from your release, the overwhelming pleasure made you moan on the top of your lungs and cling to him tightly.

"I'm cumming, baby," he groaned. With one final, powerful thrust, he poured his hot release into your tight, convulsing heat, filling you completely.

He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and spent. After a moment, he lifted his head, looking down at you with a satisfied smirk.

“You were amazing,” He murmured, pressing a gentle kiss on your lips.

"That was... incredible," you say, your voice still shaky with emotion.

Sunghoon chuckles softly, pulling you close again. "It really was. We should do this more often, and maybe you might consider going on a date with me.”

You smile, feeling a new connection with him. "A date? With that Park Sunghoon? I’d like that."

As you walked back to busy area of the club, hand in hand, you were filled with excitement and anticipation for what comes next. The night has just begun, and you can't wait to see where this new connection with Sunghoon will lead.

[sugurizz]

(SMUT/NSFW +18 - Minors DNI!)

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's animating the party you're attending. He's constantly focused on his set, barely minding the simmering crowds surrounding him. All the merged noises, laughs, loud voices and endless flashing lights seem to do little to phase him. Baggy yet enticing eyes only glued to the equipement under him, his skilled fingers push and pull on the different keys and buttons, making the perfect combinations of the newest hits, and driving the crowds crazier by the minute.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who you couldn't quite dart your glance away from. He was the calmest yet most charming, silent yet most graceful of all people who were around you.

And mayhaps it was just your imagination, or your bored self being already mentally checked out of the party, and wanting just to have a heated moment with him all on your own. But you could've sworn his dark irises often locked with yours, in less than a random way.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has just finished animating his part of the night, briefly thanking the crowd and wishing everyone a pleasant rest of the night before making his way out of your sight.

and it was rather time for you to leave too. You felt quite dazed by the whole ambiance, having some growing headaches along the way. You looked for your jacket and put your handbag on, exiting the club in your glamorous dress and glittery makeup.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who was dressed in his teddy black hoodie. his meaty fingers wrapped around a freshly lit cigarette, eyes looking into the dim roadlights. You run into him just stepping out the building, making your glances lock for another time, only a bit longer, and deeper.

He took a final puff from his cigarette before stomping the flame down, letting a deep 'Hey' escape his lips.

You snapped out of it, just realizing you may have stared a bit too long. And thus you pushed a shy 'Hey' as well, almost dying of embarassment.

'Pretty'. He said as he inched closer, eyes boldly brushing over your thick thighs and puffy breasts, hugged by the fabric of your tiny dress.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you chilling in the back of his mc Laren, his arms wrapped tight around your waist seemed to distract you from your warm, cosy conversation. Though you weren't even complaining, his deep tone had your kitty throb, and the irresistible smokey scent of his clothes made you feel even more vulnerable.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's suckling on your neck, squeezing the flesh of your butt into his large palms. Your poor dress is fully undone, nipples almost spilling from your collar and clavicles already sore from his plump lips on your skin.

'mmh...Sorry for leaving hickeys, 's bad habit of mine...'

you could feel how sticky your thong got. And his leg fevershly rubbing your pussy lips wasn't exacty helping, having you choke on your moans.

He unclasped your bra and fondled your breasts, tugging on your nips and nibbling till they're sore and raw. He leaned back against the backseat and folded his arms behind his head

'Wanna ride me?' A lazy smirk curled his lips upwards, staring adoringly at the way you struggled to balance yourself on top of him.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who's bouncing you up and down his big cock, his knitted brows and gritted teeth somehow made him even hotter. You fucked your little pussy on his dick till you almost passed out, hearing an adorable chuckle with a 'Aww, pretty babe's tired ain't she?'

He gripped your asscheeks tight and took full charge, thrusting inside you at the pace of someone who hated your guts.

'Ahh, Chosoo! I-I can't a-anymore! fuck!'

'Shhh...you're a big girl now arent'cha? know you can take me...Trust me'

He hugged you and pushed in deeper, his groans vibrated against your neck as you braced your pretty acrylic nails on his large chest with all power you had left.

'Aww poor babe, cock feels so damn good doesn't it, huh?'

𑣿 DJ! Choso who has you seeing stars, screaming your head out as you squirted on his abs.

'Come on, gorgeous, make a mess for me. cum till you cry on this cock.'

He pulled you in for the sloppiest kiss, whispering how proud he is of you cumming so good for him. You could barely string a few words together. Braindead from how good he fucked your tiny pussy.

𑣿 DJ! Choso who drove you back to your place and softly layed you on your bed...

.. You woke up the next day realizing that he kept your soiled thong as a little souvenir, leaving you a handwritten note with his number on in exchange..

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 7: Apollo, God Of Music]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 8.7k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“My uncle, he is a doctor in Zabrze,” Ludwika says, red Yardley lips, Camel cigarette. No one cares if she smokes; she’s not campaigning to be the next first lady. Fosco is puffing on a cigar. Mimi sips drowsily at her Gimlet; you could use a few shots, but you’re making do with a Pink Squirrel, something sweet and feminine and without any bite. “So I go to him and he gives me a bottle of chlordiazepoxide.”

“Oh, Librium,” Mimi says, perking up.

Ludwika waves her hand dismissively; cigarette smoke wafts through the air. “Whatever. The next day I have my audition. A tiny man who thinks he’s God. And I give it a real shot, I try my best, I’m nice, I’m charming, but he doesn’t like me. He says my teeth are too big, like a mouse’s. This is very rude. I did not comment on his fidgety little rat hands. But okay, no problem, I have a plan. No one will stop me from getting out of Poland.”

“You drugged him?” you ask, incredulous, grinning.

“You are a criminal,” Fosco tells Ludwika. “I will call J. Edgar Hoover, you should not be so close to positions of power.”

“Listen, listen,” Ludwika insists. “Here is what I do. I thank him very much for his consideration, and then as I leave I drop my purse and things go everywhere. I filled it before I left my apartment, of course. Anything I could find, empty lipstick tubes and perfume bottles, old makeup compacts with broken mirrors, coins, hair pins, tissues, pens, gum, Krówki candies, it is an avalanche. And when he bends down to help me pick up the mess—I have to encourage him, ‘oh sir won’t you grab that, I am just a stupid girl in a very short dress,’ you understand—I put the pills in his tea.”

“How many pills?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You think I had time to count? Maybe seven.”

“Seven?!” Mimi exclaims, and you take this to mean it was a generous dose.

“What? He did not die,” Ludwika says. “I wait two days and then I go back to his office. And it is so strange, can you believe it, he does not remember my audition! So I remind him that he thought I would be perfect for the ad he is shooting in Paris. He keeps squinting at me and saying ‘are you sure, are you sure?!’ Of course I’m sure! A week later, I am standing under the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Coca-Cola. And then I book a job in London, and then another in New York City, and one of my new model friends sets me up on a blind date with Otto. Lunch in Astoria at a horrible Greek restaurant. Who wants to eat pie made out of spinach?! Now I am here with you people, and the journalists love when I smile for them with my big mouse teeth.”

All four of you laugh at your table, an elite club, the ones who married in. It’s Alicent’s 60th birthday, and the ballroom of the Texas State Hotel in downtown Houston is raucous with clinking glasses and chatter and music and the shutter clicks of photographers. The DJ is playing Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. Alicent is dancing with Helaena and the children, and it’s the happiest you can ever remember seeing her. Otto, Aemond, and Sargent Shriver are deep in conversation by the bar, furrowed brows and Old Fashioneds, today’s newspapers and tomorrow’s itinerary. Criston is standing with the men but watching Alicent, face wistful, silver streaks in his jet black hair, and it occurs to you that they must have grown up together: Alicent a 19-year-old bride and Criston her husband’s fledgling bodyguard, the person closest to her age in the household, near and trusted and forbidden, orbiting adolescent twins like Artemis and Apollo. You keep looking around for Aegon. No one else seems aware that he’s gone.

“Otto thought he died and went to heaven when he found you,” you tell Ludwika. “His Eastern Bloc defector princess.”

“He is going to bring my mother to the States. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would be a model, or a housewife, or a nurse. I would be Bigfoot! But this…” Ludwika gestures broadly: to the ballroom, the city, the latest stop on the campaign trail. “It is not so bad. I never expected to serve the Polish people so far from home. You know how you stop communism? You show the world that capitalism can do more for them. There must be a path to a better life, wars must be ended, injustices must be dealt with. Aemond will do that.” She grins at you, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. “You will help him.”

You reply a bit wryly: “It’s an honor.”

“We are like four legs of a table,” Fosco observes. He points at Ludwika with his smoldering cigar. “You are a Slav fleeing the Russians. My family has ancient titles in Italy and yet no castles, no land, we are essentially homeless. Mimi’s father is a third-generation oil tycoon from Pennsylvania. And she was supposed to fix Aegon.”

“I don’t think I succeeded,” Mimi confesses.

“And then when it was time for Aemond to get married…” Fosco turns to Mimi. “Do you remember? What an ordeal. The discussions went on and on and on. She must be smart, she must be sinless, she should be from a self-made family, a real rags-to-riches story of the American Dream.”

“Right.” Mimi nods groggily, reminiscing. “And from the South.”

“Yes! But not the Deep South. No, no. Someplace Aemond could actually win. Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina. Or Florida, of course.” Now Fosco notices how you’re looking at him, because you’ve never heard this before. He quickly pivots. “But the weekend Aemond met you, it was settled. Nobody could compare.”

His tone is odd; it suggests backstories, history, mythology. Ludwika appears to be just as intrigued as you are, taking a drag off her Camel, her eyes narrowing until they are thin and catlike. You ask: “Who else was being considered?”

“No one,” Fosco answers—too quickly—and he and Mimi exchange an uneasy glance.

What did Aemond and I talk about the night we met? you think dizzily. In those first hours, minutes, thirty seconds? Where I’m from. What I was studying.

Fosco, a true Italian, then attempts to deflect by flirting. He makes emphatic, passionate motions with his hands. “You were just so captivating, so clever…”

“And young enough that Aemond could easily beat Aegon’s record of five children,” Mimi adds. Fosco clears his throat and glares at her. Mimi realizes what she’s said and gazes forlornly down into her Gimlet, mortified, groaning softly. You’ve had one c-section already, and no living son to show for it. At most, you might be able to give Aemond two or three more children; and you don’t even want them. You want Ari back. You want to touch him, to hold him, even if only for a moment, even if only once.

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure Mimi, but everyone can tell it’s not.

Ludwika breaks the tension. “You do not want twenty kids anyway. Your uterus will fall out onto the floor.” And you’re so caught off-guard that all you can do is smile at her from across the table, knowing, appreciative. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

“She’s right,” Mimi says mournfully. “They had to sew mine back in.”

Fosco pleads: “Stop, stop, I will need a lobotomy.”

Mimi slurps on her Gimlet. “It’s sad. I used to love sex.”

“Mimi, please,” Fosco says, wincing, holding up his palms. “You are like my sister. I prefer to think you are the Virgin Mary.”

Ludwika sighs dramatically and looks to where Otto stands on the other side of the ballroom. “I used to love sex too.”

Now you’re all howling again, rocking back in your chairs. The DJ is playing Go Where You Wanna Go by the Mamas and the Papas. Cass Elliot is the real talent in that group and everybody knows it, but of course any mention of her must be dutifully accompanied by: If only she was more beautiful. If only she could lose weight and find a husband.

“I think you like it, yes?” Ludwika says to you like a dare, puffing on a fresh Camel, red lipstick staining the white paper, blood on sheets. She combs her manicured fingernails though her voluminous blonde hair. “I could tell when I met you. You dress like Jackie Kennedy, but you are not such a statue. She belongs in a museum. I can imagine you at the Summer of Love.”

Fosco and Mimi shift uncomfortably. It’s not the sort of thing they would ever ask you. It’s too personal, too easily a segue into criticizing Aemond. It’s a usurpation of the natural order. Mimi guzzles her Gimlet and flags down a waiter to get another. Fosco takes off his glasses and cleans them with his skinny black necktie.

Sex. You think back to before you began to dread it. This is difficult, like trying to remember Greek words or British manners, which fork to use with each course. Memories from another lifetime come back in flashes: tangled up with your first boyfriend in his tiny dorm room bed, Aemond peeling off your still-dripping swimsuit on the floor of your hotel room during your honeymoon in Hawaii. You shrug and give Ludwika a nod, a brisk, ungenerous answer in the affirmative. “I always feel like I could keep going.”

Paradoxically, this does not end the conversation. Ludwika, Fosco, and Mimi study you with the same bewildered, gear-spinning curiosity. After a moment Ludwika says: “Not after you’ve finished, surely. I am half dead by the end if it’s good.”

“Finished?” you ask, puzzled. All three of them gawk at you, then at each other.

Aegon breezes into the ballroom wearing the Gibson guitar he bought in Manhattan, blue like the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the crystalline waves off the coast of Hawaii, dotted with fish and sea turtles. Your eyes go to him immediately and stay there; you can feel the swirling warmth of blood in your cheeks. As Aegon passes the table, he squeezes your shoulder—brief, familiar, welcome—and Fosco raises his thick eyebrows. Mimi is too busy gulping down her Gimlet to notice. Ludwika chuckles, low and wicked, then slides a makeup compact out of her Prada purse to check her lipstick. Aegon goes to the DJ and yells something over the music. He’s fucked up already, you can tell, pills or booze or both.

Fosco stops a passing waiter. “Signore, did you hear who won the United Nations Handicap?”

The waiter stares blankly back at him. “What?”

“The turf race at Monmouth Park. I have $200 on Dr. Fager.”

The DJ abruptly cuts off the music. Aegon gives his guitar a few practice strums to make sure it’s in tune. He stumbles when he walks, he lurches and sways. His blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He is woefully underdressed. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his denim shorts tattered; on his feet he wears black moccasins. There is a small gold hoop in each of his ears. Otto keeps telling Aegon to take them out, and every time Aegon ignores him.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” you hear him say to Alicent, and she presses a palm to her heart, her dark eyes wide and shining. “When I first heard this, it made me think of you.”

Otto and Sargent Shriver—the aspiring vice president—are glowering at Aegon. Aemond smirks as he nips at an Old Fashioned, amused; but he makes sharp, intentional eye contact with each of the three journalists. You will tell the right version of this story, he means. You will not print anything we wouldn’t want written, or my family will be your enemies for life.

As soon as Aegon plucks the first few chords, you recognize the song. “Oh, that’s really funny.”

“What?” Fosco asks.

“It’s Mama Tried.” You stand and begin clapping, then motion for the rest of the table to do the same. They obey without protest, though Mimi can’t seem to keep track of the beat. Aegon is beaming as he sings.

“The first thing I remember knowin’

Was a lonesome whistle blowin’

And a youngin’s dream of growin’ up to ride

On a freight train leavin’ town

Not knowin’ where I'm bound

And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.”

Cosmo sprints over from where he had been dancing with Alicent. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the center of the floor. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts impatiently.

“Call the FBI, I’m being kidnapped,” you say to Fosco and Ludwika as you let Cosmo drag you away.

“One and only rebel child

From a family meek and mild

My Mama seemed to know what lay in store

Despite all my Sunday learnin’

Towards the bad I kept on turnin’

‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.”

At the heart of the ballroom, Criston has swooped in to dance with Alicent, slow chaste circling. Helaena has floated off to the bar to chat with Otto, who keeps all his smiles for her. The children—Targaryens and Shrivers alike—are stomping and cheering and alternating between various moves: the Mashed Potato, the Twist, the Swim, the Loco-Motion, the Watusi, the Pony in pairs. Aemond whistles to a photographer and then nods to where you are holding onto one of Cosmo’s tiny hands as he spins around at lawless, breakneck speed. Of course this would make for a good image: you being maternal, you promising the American people that they will one day have not only a first lady but a first family.

“And I turned 21 in prison doin’ life without parole

No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied

That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”

Cameras flash and the crowd keeps clapping. Cosmo giggles wildly each time he almost falls and you pull him back to his feet. There is a hand skimming around your waist, a listless powder blue dress your husband chose for you. Aemond replaces Cosmo as your dance partner. Aegon’s 10-year-old daughter Violeta spirits Cosmo away; Aemond reels you in close, one palm pressed into the small of your back, his left hand gripping your right. When you steal a glimpse of Aegon—still strumming, still singing—he doesn’t look so triumphant anymore. His grin is frozen and artificial. His drunk muddy eyes go steely.

“I need you to do something for me,” Aemond begins.

Of course, you once would have said. Anything. “What is it?”

“I want you to cut your hair like Jackie.”

You’re so stunned your feet stop moving. Aemond coaxes you back into the steps. “No.”

“Think about how much more versatile it would be. Jackie is an icon, she’s sophisticated, she’s mature.”

“If you wanted a wife in her thirties, you could have easily found one.”

“Honey—”

“I do everything you ask,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “Everything. I wear what you want me to. I go where you want me to. I spend ten hours a week getting my hair fixed. I keep it up, I keep it presentable. But I’m not chopping it off.”

“You’re never going to be able to wear it down anyway,” Aemond counters, so calm, so rational, like your skull is nothing but incendiary feminine mania. “If I win, you’ll be surrounded by staff and journalists for years. You can’t be photographed with it down, you look about eighteen. And like you live on a park bench in Haight-Ashbury.”

“It’s my hair. I’m keeping it.”

Aemond leans in and says, cold and severe: “You’re my wife, and everything that’s yours belongs to me.” Then he kisses your cheek as cameras click and strobe. “Think about it. Now smile.”

You force yourself to. The crowd applauds as Aegon finishes singing and flees the dancefloor. The DJ puts on Light My Fire by The Doors. You and Aemond leave in opposite directions: he goes to talk to Eunice Kennedy, who is hugging her 3-year-old son Anthony to her chest; you return to your table to drain the last of your Pink Squirrel. You need something stronger. You need to be alone so you can collect yourself.

Now Aegon has shed his guitar and is standing with his back to the wall, smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to some campaign staffer—she looks like a girl, but she’s probably your age—who is gazing up at him worshipfully. She says something that makes him laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, and you feel like you’re waking up from your c-section all over again, your belly split open and rearranged, aching, stabbing, nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Ludwika asks, scrutinizing you.

“I’m perfect. I’ll be right back.”

You hurry out of the ballroom, the music fading behind you. You slip into one of the elevators in the lobby and hit the button for the top floor, where Aemond’s entourage has booked every suite. As the door is closing—as only a foot of space remains—Aegon shoves his way into the elevator, startling you. The door shuts behind him and you begin the ascent. Aegon slams the red emergency stop button, and the elevator jolts to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing—?!”

“What pissed you off, huh?” Aegon taunts, stepping closer. You back away from him until you run out of room; not because you want the distance, but because you’re afraid of what you’ll do if it’s gone.

“Nothing. I’m so great, I’ve never been better, can’t you tell?”

He’s so close you can feel the heat rising off his flushed skin, you can see the miles-deep murky blue of his irises, open water, shipwrecks and drowning. “You want all this to be over? You want the women with their big, adoring eyes and their short skirts to disappear? Grow up. Stop acting like a kid. Ask for it.”

“Ask for what?”

“You know.”

If you touch him now, you won’t be able to stop. There’s nowhere for us to go. There’s no way out of this family, this year, this world. “I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aegon barks out a sardonic, cutting laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely 23.”

“I thought you loved girls young enough to be your daughters. Isn’t that what gets you hard?”

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“You’re sweating on me, you pig.”

“You want it so bad,” Aegon whispers as he presses himself against you, his ribs and thighs and hips, and you clutch for the walls of the elevator so you don’t reach for him instead. His left hand is tearing your hair out of its clips and pins so it falls free like you used to wear it; the right is all over your face, your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, touching you ceaselessly, ravenously, a blind man reading chronicles of braille. You’re trying to turn away from him, but he keeps pulling you back in. You’re breathing his rum and nicotine, you’re gasping in low, starved moans. It might be more intimate than kissing, than sex. He’s already felt your body. What he asks for now is your soul. His words are warm and aching as he murmurs through loosed strands of your hair: “Tell me you want it, please, just tell me, just tell me, tell me and it’s yours.”

Your palms land on his bare, damp chest, and Aegon starts unfastening the last buttons of his shirt. Instead, you push him away. Aegon lets you. He surrenders. “I can’t,” you choke out. You hit the red button, and the elevator resumes its rise to the top floor of the hotel.

“I’m really fucked up right now,” he says with sudden realization, swaying, staring down at his feet like he fears he’ll lose track of them.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m sorry. I think…I think I wanted that to happen differently.”

“I can’t trust you when you’re like this,” you say. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. Aegon looks up at you, his glassy eyes large and wounded. When the elevator door opens, you step out and he stays in, riding it back to the lobby.

In the suite you share with Aemond, you turn on the radio and spin the dial until you find a Loretta Lynn song. You go to the minibar cabinet and down two tiny glass bottles of vodka, something that won’t make you smell like too much of a drunk. You’ll have to fix your hair before you go back to the ballroom; you’ll have to change your dress. You’re painted with Aegon’s sweat and smoke. You can’t risk your husband noticing. You slide open the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed and take out the card you keep there, the one that travels with you to each stop on the campaign trail. Loretta Lynn croons from the radio, wronged and wrathful.

“If you don’t wanna go to Fist City

You’d better detour around my town

‘Cause I’ll grab you by the hair of your head

And I’ll lift you off of the ground

I'm not a-sayin’ my baby is a saint, ‘cause he ain’t

And that he won’t cat around with a kitty

I’m here to tell you, gal, to lay off of my man

If you don’t wanna go to Fist City.”

You lie on the floor and peer up at the card in your hands: jubilant cartoon cow, festive party hat. You know exactly what’s written on the inside; it’s etched into your memory like myths passed down through millennia. Nevertheless, you read it again. The original message is still crossed out, and there’s an addendum below it in hasty black ink: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf!

You graze your thumbprint across Aegon’s scrawled signature. It’s smudged now. You do this a lot. One day his name might disappear altogether from the stark white parchment, from memory.

You close the card and hug it to your chest like a mother holds a living child.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and Aegon?”

Alarmed, you meet Aemond’s gaze, two reflections in the vanity mirror. It’s the next morning, and you’re finishing up your makeup. Your dress and jacket are striped with black and white, your jewelry is silver, chains on your wrists and small tasteful hoops in your ears. “Nothing.” There is a lull you have to fill before it becomes suspicious. “He’s been helpful, he’s been…you know. Ever since Mount Sinai.”

Aemond adjusts his cerulean blue tie, studying himself in the mirror. He’s still wearing his leather eyepatch. Putting in his glass eye is the last thing he does before leaving the suite each day. “He was a comfort to you.”

“Well, he was there.”

“Because I told him to be,” Aemond says, resting his hands on the back of your chair. “Someone had to stay at Asteria to keep tabs on things, to let me know what you were up to. Aegon was the most expendable. Mimi and the kids make for good photos, but Aegon…he’s not especially endearing to the public. Those few years as the mayor of Trenton just about ruined him. I’d love to make him the attorney general if I win, but I don’t think the people would stomach it. Maybe if he behaves himself he can have the job for my second term.”

Eight years, you think, unable to fathom it. Eight years in a fishbowl. Eight years lying under Aemond as he tries to get me pregnant with children neither of us can love.

Aemond leans down to touch his lips to the side of your throat. “I’m glad you’re finally friends,” he says. “Aegon’s not all bad. But don’t let him get you in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” What did you and Aemond talk about before Ari died? What was this marriage built on? The senate, the presidency, civil rights, poverty, the Space Race, Vietnam, Greek mythology. Everything but each other. Dreams and ideals that would dwarf any mortal, would render them invisible.

“And watch out for any reporters from the Wall Street Journal. They’d kill for Nixon. If they can twist your words, they will.” He gets something from inside his own nightstand: the bloodstained komboskini from when he was shot in Palm Beach. He places it in your right hand, all 100 knots. “Give this to someone today. You know how to do it, you’ve always understood this part. Pick the right person, the right moment. Make sure there are plenty of cameras around.”

“Where am I going? Lunch with the mayor’s wife, that’s this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Aemond nods. “And a few other stops. Then we’re going to the Alamo in San Antonio tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He recoils, reaches for the left half of his face, kneads the scar tissue there as nerve pain radiates through his flesh all the way down to the bone. Once you felt such agonizing pity for him; now all you can think about is the matching scar you wear on your belly, hidden and shameful and a badge of your inadequacies: your body too weak to protect Ari, your mind too pliable to resist being ensnared by the crushing gravity of this man, this family, this life.

“How can I help?” you ask Aemond, because it’s the right thing to do. And randomly, you find yourself remembering the statue of Apollo in Helaena’s garden back at Asteria, the god of music, healing, truth, prophesy.

“You can’t.” Aemond goes to the bathroom to force his glass eye into its socket. You depart for the hotel lobby where Ludwika and Mimi, your companions for the day, are already waiting. Ludwika is wearing a rose pink Chanel skirt suit. Mimi—relatively functional, as she hasn’t been awake long enough to ruin herself yet—is dressed in delicate dove grey.

Alicent, Helaena, and the children are scheduled to tour a local high school and library; Criston, unsurprisingly, is going with them. Aemond, accompanied by Otto, has a series of meetings with local business leaders and politicians. Aegon and Fosco are headed to the Michael E. DeBakey Veterans Affairs Medical Center to promise maimed soldiers that Aemond will end the war that carved out bits of them and filled the voids with screaming nightmares. The limousine you share with Ludwika and Mimi ferries you first to the NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center. Mimi is entranced by the reflective surface of the helmets, coated with gold to divert blinding sunbeams; in turn, the astronauts are entranced by Ludwika, who leaves lipstick smudges on their cheeks when she kisses them. Next is a tea party hosted by Iola Faye Cure Welch, the mayoress of Houston since 1964 and the mother of five children. And as you nibble daintily at triangle-shaped sandwiches and trudge through small talk about flowers and furniture, you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous Aegon would think this is if he was here.

The driver mentions one last stop, then coasts through midafternoon traffic towards the city center. You spend the ride touching up your hair and makeup. Ludwika offers to let you borrow her seduction-red lipstick; you politely decline. You step out of the limo and shield your eyes from the glare of the Texas sun. It takes your vision a moment to adjust, and then you realize where you are. The sign above the main entranceway reads: Houston Methodist Hospital. The air snags in your throat, your lungs are empty. Your hands tremble violently. The earth rocks beneath your white high heels. Mount Sinai is the last hospital you walked into, and you left with your son in a casket so small it could have been mistaken for a shoebox.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ludwika says, linking an arm through yours. Mimi, badly in need of a drink, is looking deflated and edgy. “We are almost done. And I have been promised a medium-rare steak for dinner! Mushrooms and onions too! The Statue of Liberty did not lie. This country is a golden door.”

“I can’t.”

Ludwika stares at you. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.”

“What is she talking about?” Ludwika asks Mimi, who shakes her head, mystified.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

They’ve never seen you like this. They don’t know what to do. They listen to you, that is the hierarchy; but it’s too late to change course now. Journalists are approaching in a swarm. Nurses and doctors are gathering by the front door to welcome you.

He knew, you think, suddenly furious. Aemond knew, and he didn’t tell me.

“It will be okay,” Ludwika says, patting your back awkwardly. “We are here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Oh,” Mimi breathes, understanding. She looks at you with sympathy that shimmers on the surface of the opaque, polluted lake of her mind. Then she catches Ludwika’s eye and skims a hand down her own slim midsection. Ari, she mouths, and Ludwika’s face falls.

The doctors and nurses are whistling and applauding; the journalists are snapping photos and scrounging for quotes. You feel your conditioning over the past two years taking over: straight posture, gentle smile, hands clasped demurely together. But you are locked away somewhere underneath.

“Do not worry,” Ludwika tells you softly. “We will talk, we will make it easier for you.” Then she and Mimi begin boisterously shaking hands and thanking people for coming as you make your way through the crowd of journalists and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

People are saying things to you, but you don’t really hear them. You reply with words you won’t remember afterwards. You nod frequently and go wherever you are led. Doctors are explaining new research into placenta previa and c-sections. Nurses are showing you a state-of-the-art NICU for premature infants. Someone is placing a baby in your arms, and you can’t do anything but accept it numbly. You can’t look down at it, you can’t allow yourself to feel the weight of some other woman’s child. You wear your smile like armor and let the photographers capture their snapshots, painting a frame around you, deciding where you live.

Then you are introduced to the parents, women in hospital beds and men perched in chairs beside them, just like the one where Aegon slept at Mount Sinai. They take your hands when you offer them and tell you about their small children, sick children, dying children. One patient just delivered twins. The first did not survive beyond a few hours, but the second is in an incubator and gaining strength. You recall the komboskini stained with Aemond’s blood and take it out of your purse, give it to the suffering mother, watch faith rise in her face like dawn over the Atlantic. But you won’t remember her. You cannot allow yourself to.

Outside as you, Ludwika, and Mimi are headed back to the limousine, the journalists make one last attempt to poach a headline-worthy quote. “Mrs. Targaryen! Mrs. Targaryen!” a young man shouts, clambering to the front of the horde and jabbing a microphone in your face. “I’m from the Houston Chronicle. Can you tell me how the senator feels about the failure of the most recent phase of the Tet Offensive?”

You are in a fog; you don’t feel real, this moment and this city don’t feel real, and so you cannot remember what Aemond would want you to say. “The Vietnam War has claimed too many lives already. We should have never sent our men there to die. But since that is done, the best thing we can do now is end the draft immediately and then withdrawal from the region as soon as the South Vietnamese are able to defend their own territory, which is their responsibility.” The journalist already considers this effort fruitful and begins to retreat, but you have one last point to make. Ludwika and Mimi watch you anxiously. “I lost someone in Vietnam. I met him when I was in college. He had a good heart, and he joined because he thought it was wrong for poor men to have to fight while rich kids got exemptions, and he was killed in action in October of 1965.”

“This was a friend?” the journalist asks, eyes glowing hungrily. Then he adds as an afterthought: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“A boyfriend. Corporal Cameron Marino from Schenectady, New York. People called him Cam.”

A solemn murmur ripples through the crowd. Hats are removed, hands held to chests. “Rest in peace, Cam,” someone says. Maybe they have somebody they care about in Vietnam, a friend or a lover or a brother. You wave goodbye and climb into the limousine. The outpouring swells as you vanish: We love you, Mrs. Targaryen! God bless you, Mrs. Targaryen!

In the lobby of the Texas State Hotel, you tell Ludwika and Mimi not to follow you. They have to listen. After some hesitation, Mimi heads for the bar in the ballroom; Ludwika asks the staff at the front desk if she’ll be able to make a call to Poland with the phone in her room. You take the elevator to the top floor. Fosco is in the hallway, on his way back from one of the vending machines with a Fresca. When he sees your face, his jaw drops.

“Dio mio, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, tears biting in your eyes. You pass him, digging your key out of your purse.

“Are you sure—?”

“Fosco, please. I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. Then he seems to get an idea and strides away with great purpose. You take shelter in your suite, silent and dim; Aemond isn’t back yet. You brace yourself against the locked door and sob into empty, trembling hands, at last hidden away where no one can see you, where no one can be disturbed or disappointed. You know now that none of it was healed—not the loss, not the revelations—but only buried, and now it’s all been unearthed again and the pain shrieks like exposed nerves.

It’s not fair. Ari deserved better, I deserved better.

There’s nothing you can do. Your hands ache to hold someone that no longer exists. You can’t unlearn the truth of what your marriage is.

There are two knocks, quick and rough. “Hey, it’s me.” And there’s such pure intimacy in those words. You know my voice. You know why I’m here. “Open the door.”

“I’m okay, just, just, just leave me alone—”

“Open the door,” Aegon says again. “Or I’ll get security up here to do it for you.”

Swiping the tears from your face, you let him in. He’s dressed in baggy black shorts, nothing on his feet, an unbuttoned stolen green army jacket. You once thought he wore those to play the part of a revolutionary from the comfort of his East Coast seaside mansion. Now you understand it’s because he misses Daeron, because he believes he should have gone to Vietnam instead. There are several dog tags strung around his neck; some of the veterans at the medical center he visited must have gifted them to him.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon’s eyes sweep over you, seeking, horrified. “What did he do?”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe. You back away from him as more tears spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me help you. Please don’t be upset. Did he say something, did he hurt you?” Aegon reaches out, and as soon as he touches you your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, trying not to wail, trying not to scream, and Aegon is pulling you against his chest—bare skin, borrowed metal—and his hands are on your face and in your hair, and his lips are against your forehead as he murmurs: “Shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“I had to go to a hospital and hold babies and I, I, I never even got to touch him, not once, not ever, and I can’t now because he’s gone. He’s locked in some fucking vault, he’s just bones, but he was supposed to be a person, and those other babies are going to get to grow up but he isn’t, and it’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Aegon agrees softly, still holding you.

“No one else knew him.”

“I did. I was there the whole time.”

“Only because Aemond made you stay.”

“No,” Aegon swears. “I was supposed to spy on you. He never told me to do any of the rest of it. I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You did,” you say, very quietly, weakly, conceding.

“And I’m still here now.”

Your lungs aren’t burning quite so much. Your tears are slowing. You unravel yourself from Aegon, averting your eyes. Now you’re ashamed; you aren’t in the habit of revealing to people how much you’re splintering like cracked glass, fresh fractures every time you think to check the damage. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but this is definitely not the most embarrassing thing I’ve seen you do.”

You laugh, only for a few seconds, and Aegon smiles as he mops the tears from your face with the sleeve of his army jacket. Then he turns serious again.

“Can I ask you something? It’s very personal. It’s offensive, honestly. But I have to know.”

“You can ask.”

“Do you want more children?”

More children. Because Ari was real. “Not now. Not with Aemond.”

Aegon nods, suspicions confirmed. “Can you do that sponge thing you told me about?”

“No. I think he’d be able to feel it, he’s…” You gesture vaguely. It’s difficult to say. “He’s big.”

Aegon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He flinches, just enough that you notice. But as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t change the subject. “What about the pill?”

“No doctor is going to write me a prescription without my husband’s permission. Especially considering who my husband is.”

“I hate this fucking country,” Aegon hisses. “Puritanical goddamn hellscape. Old Testament bullshit.” He drags his fingers through his hair a few times, then pats your cheek like he did before: twice, gently, playfully. “Come on. Let’s go smoke.”

“I can’t do it on the balcony. Someone might get a picture.”

“Okay. No big deal. We’ll go to the roof.”

You stare at him. “The roof?”

“You really think I haven’t already been up there?” He stands and offers you his hand. “You’ll love it. The view is fantastic.”

The view is good, but the grass is better. You know that it makes some people useless, others paranoid, but for you it’s always painted the world a color that is softer, kinder, lighter, more bearable. You and Aegon lie next to each other, smoking and watching twilight fall over Houston like a spell. You’ll have to shower and gulp some Listerine before Aemond gets anywhere near you. It’s interesting; each day you seem to acquire new secrets to keep from him.

Aegon asks: “Where would you be right now if you weren’t Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Probably married to someone worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s say you weren’t. Let’s say you can do whatever you want.” He points up at the lavender sky and acts like he’s moving the emerging glimmers of stars around with his fingertip. “There, I’ve changed your fate. Who would you be?”

You ponder this. “I want to teach math to kids and then spend every summer break getting baked on some beach.”

Aegon cackles. “Hell, sign me up.” He lights a third joint for himself with his tiny chrome Zippo. “Those are the people doing the real work. Teachers, nurses, farmers electricians, plumbers, welders, firemen, therapists, janitors, public defenders. The normal, unglamorous types.”

“You don’t think presidents and senators make a difference?”

“Sure they do. But only like 5% of the job is actually helping people. The rest of it is schmoozing and tea parties and making speeches, because looking and sounding good is better than doing good. They’re addicted to vapid pretenses that make them feel important. You live like that and you forget how to be a human. I mean, look at Nixon. The man was raised as a Quaker, one of the most peaceful religions on earth, and now he’s planning to throw ten or twenty thousand more boys into the great Vietnamese meatgrinder and probably napalm the hell out of Cambodia and Laos while he’s at it to get the communists’ supply lines. The man’s got no idea who he is anymore. I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so terrified he’s gonna start World War III.”

I wonder who Aemond was a few decades ago. “What makes you feel important?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “I’m not under any delusions that I matter.”

“I think you matter, old man.”

“Really?”

“A little bit. About this much.” You hold your hand up to show him the infinitesimal space between your thumb and index finger, and Aegon chuckles, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Let’s do it,” he says with sudden, forceful conviction. “If Nixon wins in November, we’ll get out of here. I’ll go back to Yuma to teach on the reservation and you can come with me. You get a math class, I take English, or Music, or both, whatever. We’ll buy a bungalow out in the desert and make s’mores every night and look up at the stars. I’ll show you how to play guitar if you give me algebra lessons.”

You peek over at him, intrigued. “Is that all we’re going to do?”

“Well we’ll fuck, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” You giggle; it’s ridiculous, it’s paradisical, it’s insane how good it sounds. But surely that’s only because you’re high. “I don’t know how Mimi would feel about that.”

“She won’t care. She doesn’t want me anymore, hasn’t in years. Sometimes she just forgets that when she’s wasted. Mimi can go to Arizona too. We’ll load up the kids in a van and strap her to the roof.”

Now your voice is somber. “She was supposed to fix you.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says: slow, meditative, guilty. “I think Mimi and I have a few too many of the same demons.”

You roll over, push yourself up on your palms, and crawl to the edge of the rooftop. You prop your elbows on the ledge and gaze out into the city lights, the sky turning from violet to indigo to primordial darkness. Aegon joins you, staring down at the distant aquamarine rectangle of the hotel pool.

He asks: “You think I could make that?”

“No.”

“Should I try?”

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“A few months ago, you would have pushed me off this roof.”

You shrug. “You’ve proved yourself useful.”

“That’s why you like me now? Because I’m useful?”

“Who said I like you?” you tease, smiling.

“You like me,” Aegon says, grinning and smug, radiant in the silver moonlight and urban incandescence. “You like me so much it scares you. But there’s no need to panic. It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You want to touch him, you want him to touch you, you want to study every arc and angle of him like he’s a marble statue in a garden: too beautiful to be mortal, too fragile to be divine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three nights later in Nebraska, there is a knock on the door of your hotel suite. The nannies have herded the children off to bed; the adults are unwinding downstairs in the courtyard of the Sheraton Omaha, designed to resemble an Italian garden. There’s a brand new Jacuzzi that you’re looking forward to taking a dip in. You finish pulling on your swimsuit, white and patterned with sunflowers, a one-piece with a flared skirt.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Richard Nixon,” Aegon says through the door. “Naked. Horny. Please love me.”

You laugh and let him in. He’s leaning against the doorframe in Hawaiian swim trunks and nothing else, pink sunburn glowing on his soft chest. He holds up a brown paper bag and shakes it.

“For you.”

“What is it, heroin?” Instead, you open the bag to find small, circular packs of pills. “No way. You did not.”

“That’s enough for six months,” Aegon says, smirking, proud of himself. “I’ll be back again in February. Guess that makes me your dealer, babe. I don’t accept cash, checks, or cards, only sexual favors. You want to get down on your knees, or should I?”

“How did you get these?”

“I told a doctor they’re for one of my whores.”

“Maybe they are.”

You’ve surprised him, you’ve got him thinking about it now. His face flushes a splotchy, charming pink. “So, uh, you coming down to the courtyard?”

“Yeah. Right now. Just let me hide these first. Are there instructions in here…?”

“Mm hmm,” Aegon says, still distracted, studying the entirely unremarkable carpet. You stow the paper bag of birth control pills in the bottom of your bras and panties drawer, then walk with Aegon to take the elevator down to the ground floor. You both notice the bright red emergency stop button and share a glance, smirking, taunting.

In the courtyard, Alicent is struggling to pay attention as Helaena identifies each and every species of plant and explains where in the world it is native to. Fosco is simultaneously teaching Criston how to yo-yo and berating him for not believing the Cubs will end up in the World Series. Fosco has apparently bet $500 on them. Ludwika is stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat and reading a copy of Cosmopolitan. Aemond, wearing his eyepatch and a blue pair of swim trunks, appears to be arguing with Otto over the contents of a newspaper article. Mimi is alone in the Jacuzzi, bubbles rumbling all around her as she slumps against the rim, a frosty Gimlet clutched in one hand.

“Mimi, get out of the Jacuzzi,” you order.

“I’m fine!” she slurs, and you groan, knowing you’re going to have to drag her out.

Aemond is approaching; no, not approaching, raging. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is this?” He hurls the newspaper at you, the Houston Chronicle. The headline reads: To Mrs. Targaryen, ending the Vietnam War is personal. “Why would you tell somebody that? Other papers are going to start reporting this. You gave them his full name. They’ve found his school, his friends, his gravesite in motherfucking Arlington National Cemetery—”

“You set me up,” you say. “You didn’t tell me about the hospital.”

Aegon takes the newspaper from you and frantically skims the article. “Hey, man,” he tells Aemond as he pieces it together, attempting to deescalate. It’s not a skill you knew he possessed. “She was rattled, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And there’s nothing bad in this article. It makes her sound invested and sympathetic, not…um…whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t get it,” Aemond seethes. “Journalists are going to start hounding his friends, his classmates, people who lived in his dorm building. Nixon’s newspapers will publish any gossip they can dig up about what she did when she was in school. Things people saw, things people overheard—”

“What, the fact that she had one boyfriend before she met you? That’s worthy of a nuclear meltdown?! Better prepare for Armageddon, a woman got laid, launch the goddamn warheads!”

“She doesn’t get to have a past! She should understand that, she signed up for this, she knew exactly what was expected of her!”

“And what about your past?” Aegon says, low and searing, and Aemond goes quiet. Their eyes are locked on each other: Aegon defiant, Aemond unnerved. You try to remember if you’ve ever seen that expression on his face before. You don’t think you have. Not even when he was shot and half-blinded. Not even when Ari died.

“What does that mean?” you ask your husband. Still staring at Aegon—tangled in a thorny, silent battle of wills—he doesn’t reply.

There are swift, thudding footsteps. Otto grabs Aegon by his hair, hooks a finger through the small gold hoop in his right ear, and tears it straight through the earlobe. Aegon screams as blood streams down his face, feeling the ravaged fringes of his flesh.

“I told you to take those out,” Otto says. “Now remove the other one before I rip it free, and go get yourself stitched up.”

You do something you’ve never done before, never even thought of. You strike out with both hands and shove Otto so hard he goes staggering backwards, his arms wheeling. The others are yelling and rushing over. Aemond is trying to yank you to him, but he can’t get a grip on your swimsuit. “I will kill you!” you roar at Otto. “I will push you down a staircase, I will slit your fucking throat, don’t you ever touch him!”

Alicent is weeping, appalled, trying to get a look at Aegon’s damaged ear. Criston is helping her, moving Aegon’s bloodied hair out of the way. Fosco links his arms around your waist and drags you out of Aemond’s reach just as he’s getting his fingers beneath a strap of your swimsuit. Helaena is covering her face with her hands and wailing. Ludwika is shrieking at Otto: “What did you do? Don’t give me that, what did you do?!”

You are engulfed with rage, red and irresistible. You’re trying to bolt out of Fosco’s grasp. You want to claw Otto’s eyes out; you want to put a bullet in him. As you struggle, you catch a glimpse of the Jacuzzi. You don’t see Mimi anymore.

“Wait,” you plead, but nobody hears you over the noise. You look desperately at Fosco. “Where’s Mimi?!”

Once he figures out what you’re trying to say, he whirls towards the Jacuzzi. “No!” he bellows, releasing you, and careens across the courtyard. You dash after him. Now the others understand, and they come running too. You see it just before Fosco dives in: there is a shadow at the bottom of the Jacuzzi. When he bursts up though the roiling water, he is carrying Mimi, limp and unconscious and blue.

Everyone is shouting at once. Fosco lays Mimi down on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Criston sends Ludwika to call an ambulance, kneels beside Mimi, checks for a pulse. Then he begins CPR. When he breathes air into her flooded lungs, there is no response, no resurrection.

“No, no, no, she has to be alright!” Aemond says, and everyone knows why. If she’s not, this will consume the headlines for days: no victorious campaigning, no speeches or photos, just a drowned alcoholic with a damning autopsy report.

“Oh my god,” Otto moans, pacing. “This can’t be happening, not this year, not now…”

Alicent seizes your hand and squeezes it until you think it will break. She is reciting prayers in Greek. Helaena is curled up under a butterfly bush, sobbing hysterically. When he realizes this, Otto hurries to comfort her.

“Don’t watch, Helaena. Let’s go inside, I’ll walk with you, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Mimi?!” Aegon commands, slapping her hard across the face. “Mimi, come on, wake up! Mimi? Mimi!” She’s still motionless, she’s still blue. Aegon turns to you, blood smeared all over the right side of his face. He’s petrified, he’s in shock. “I think she’s…she’s…”

“She’s gone,” Criston says; and he lifts his palms from her hollow body. The silent sky above is a labyrinth of bad stars.

[kokonoiis]

NOW LOADING . . . KOKONOIIS' KINKTOBER 2024 TOKREV FIC LIST

tags ; age gap , threesome , blasphemy kink , purity kink , camming , sugar daddies , power imbalance , stripping , exhibitionism , club sex , dubious consent , drug use , somnophilia , drunk sex , high sex , cucking , fake relationship , voyeurism , public sex , psuedocest , mentor kink , secret pining , consensual non consent , stalking , hatefucking

##SENJU KAWARAGI & WAKASA IMAUSHI ﾉ age gap, daddy issues, threesome the night before takemichi's wedding, your girlfriend senju tells you about wakasa, a guy she used to work out with frequently at the gym that she knew was going to be at the wedding. thing is, you already knew him, having had a one night stand with him a few years ago. senju immediately had to know more, but it didn't really seem like she was jealous for the reasons she should be jealous. oddly enough, the day of the wedding comes, and senju seems pretty adamant about spending time with wakasa during the event. it's a little awkward, but for your girlfriend, you'd do anything.

##TAIJU SHIBA ﾉ purity / blasphemy kink the church was otherwise silent other than the deep voice of the man on his knees in front of the cross, his head bowed, searching for forgiveness for the sin he was committing. the sin ? you, spread out right in front of him, trying to stay otherwise silent like he had told you to be as he finished his prayer before he indulged in this carnal sin. he'd get to you, as long as you could be good during his prayers, and he'd be even more generous if you could recite a few prayers while he was in between your thighs.

##HAJIME KOKONOI & TETTA KISAKI ﾉ camming, sugar daddies, power imbalance both ceos of the tk & ko group knew that their new secretary had a secret hobby that you tried to keep separate from your work there, but personal lives always had a way of bleeding into professional ones. not that either one of them minded, either, and even supported you silently on their own before they decided that they would like to take part in your hobbies, too, since they were funding it. somehow, though, you didn't seem too against the idea of letting them join in for a few livestreams.

##WAKASA IMAUSHI & SHINICHIRO SANO ﾉ stripping, exhibitionism, club sex shinichiro had a look on his face that sent a shiver down your spine, but still you sat in between him and wakasa in the booth, your little latex outfit riding up your thighs as you listened to what wakasa wanted you to do for him. you weren't a shy person, not really, but something about the look on shinichiro gave you made you want to hide in a corner. still, you had to put on a show, and you were not in the business to disappoint.

##HARUCHIYO SANZU ﾉ dubious consent, drug use, borderline somnophilia he swore that it would be a fun little ride, that he would help you through whatever you go through. he assured you that he'd taken the drug so many times, of course he knew anything that could possibly happen to you. you weren't going to tell him no and of course there was a part of you that was curious, too, so you took the pretty pills. it would be okay, of course, you had haruchiyo there to guide you threw the trip, and if his hands started to wander, well, that was part of the fun.

##RAN HAITANI & RINDOU HAITANI ﾉ dubious consent, drunk sex, competitive sex you came to the late night halloween party with a guy dressed as the killer from those cheesy scream movies, but spent most of your time with the dj, who could shoot back shots faster than you'd ever seen before. you had no idea that the two of them knew each other, until you went home with the dj only to find the guy you ditched there as if he were waiting for you, and he certainly didn't seem happy that you left him for his younger brother. you'd have to find a way to apologize to him, even if your brain was a little fuzzy.

##SHUJI HANMA & TETTA KISAKI ﾉ cucking, fake relationship, voyeurism fake dating tetta kisaki had its perks, of course. it didn't hurt that he wasn't bad to look at, and he was pretty padded in the wallet, too. but the important part of the title was the ' fake ' in fake dating. as long as you didn't let the public know, you could see anyone you wanted, within reason, of course. you never thought you would exercise that privilege until you met shuji hanma. shuji didn't think he would want tetta's girl, either, until he met you. it seems you both had the same thing in mind, there was only one piece left of this puzzle.

##YUZUHA SHIBA ﾉ handcuffs, public sex yuzuha was never really the same after taiju was killed, but that was okay, you loved her still all the same, come hell or high waters. of course, you and your girlfriend had gone through this discussion before. if she was caught by the police and had to give a statement about her whereabouts on that night, you knew exactly what to say and how to prove her innocence. you were her alibi, so it was important you play your role to perfection. even in such a serious situation, though, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful your girlfriend looked, with her hands cuffed together in the interrogation room.

##SHINICHIRO SANO ﾉ psuedocest, secret pining, mentor kink you'd shown up at the sano family residence one day as many people tended to do if they were a part of tokyo's delinquent world, but you never really left. you weren't part of the family, but you also weren't... not part of the family. eventually, you got your own room to sleep in if you needed to. sometimes you didn't fall asleep immediately, though, too focused on the growing need between your legs, although you could never quite get there for one reason or another. shinichiro was more than aware of this, of course, and he was also willing to help you out, too.

##HARUCHIYO SANZU ﾉ cnc, stalking, hatefucking dating haruchiyo was the worst decision of your life, but it was far too late to take it back now. after you caught him with a camera inconspicuously put inside of a gift he gave you, you had finally had enough. lucky for you, your lease was ending, so you were able to move into a different apartment on the other side of tokyo. unlucky for you, sanzu wasn't going to let you leave that easily. he was never, ever going to let you get away from him that easily, no matter how fast or far you tried to run from him. he ruined your life, but that wasn't enough for him. he needed to ruin you.

[hunnidmilly]

on wat you on. z.f

fuck my nigga, he ain’t shit! boy ain’t good for nun but dick, flodgin like you wit yo niggas, pussy boy you wit that bitch.

parings: zilla fatu x black!reader

warnings: TOXIC ASS RELATIONSHIP LMAOO it’s all i’ve ever known this might hit close to home tbh. cheating, name calling, smut.

where the fuck you at? 12:24AM

let me find out you with yo hoe ass friend shakin’ yo ass and imma be on 10. 12:25AM

missed call from: Z<3

bro now you really got me fucked up. turn yo lo back on, bro. 12:27AM

yo. on my life, don’t make me come find yo stupid ass, ma. 12:29AM

(6) missed calls from: Z<3

i told yo ass i fell asleep at jey’s house yet you still wanna do the fuckin’ most and shit. but nah. you tryna listen to what janay ugly ass wanna say instead of me tho. might as well be fuckin’ her. 12:34AM

i really don’t give a fuck bout’ what you saying nigga. i’m on whatever you on. you fuckin them lame ass hoes anyways…so wassup fr? 12:36AM

ight. bet. 12:37AM

coo. 12:37AM

“girl! fuck his trifling ass fr! i’m tryna have a good time!” your friend, janay, yelled over the music in the club

“you right. i’m not even tryna get on that with him forreal. it’s whatever.” you declined zillas next call before powering your phone off completely. he wanted to take it to the next level? let’s see who finishes the game.

he kicked the shit off the night prior by not only not coming home, but going to the club all night with his cousins without telling you. to further push shit to the fam, he was on instagram live acting like he didn’t see your phone calls, or comments but replying to other thirsty ass hoes.

the last year and a half for you and zilla already had been rocky. him wanting to always be a hypocrite. he took issue with you going out and partying and dressing sexy as you wanting attention from other dudes, especially if janay was involved. yet with the rising popularity of his cousins in the WWE, all eyes were on him. the son of the late umaga currently creating a name for himself, straying away from the shadows of his family. that created a shit show as more female fans appeared.

him greeting them, smiling, creating more conversation than needed, following them on instagram, liking their tweets, giving them free tickets all kinds of shit. he stressed how it was just him trying to create his image to get his name more popping…lying ass nigga.

zilla loved the attention. especially from Aaliyah, a promoter at a local wrestling venue trying to recruit him for a match. she’d always make sure to show up in the tinest baby tee from the target toddlers section, low rise jeans showing off her tattoo near her midsection, a butterfly belly piercing, and lipgloss giving zilla ‘fuck me eyes’. he ate that shit up, too. smiling—making sure every diamond from his grill was flashing—making jokes, and laughing. you knew how important it was to zilla to join his family, but he couldn’t do that without being a friendly ass nigga?

everytime you brought it to his attention, it all started and ended the same. an argument until he fucked you into submission until tears streamed down your eyes making you forget exactly what causes the argument. you’d be cool for a few days and it’d all repeat again.

“ight yall. this next one for all my ladies in here lookin realll and i do mean reallll sexy.” the dj spoke before mixing the current song to get it sexyy by sexyy red.

the club wasn’t the place to nurse a broken heart. but having your hair, makeup, and nails done looking good? you felt better anyways. the music was a plus.

“cmon! i’m tryna dance. ill deal with that nigga tomorrow.” you tossed back your drink before grabbing janay and heading to the dance floor

you begin throwing your ass back without a care in the world. whatever it caught just happened. you knew your poster girl dress left little to the imagination, but that was neither here or there right now.

you felt hands slide across your ass bringing you towards someone’s lap. liquor taking over you backed into the dude behind you throwing your ass onto him and grinding. he got to excited as he pressed his growing erection onto your ass. while dude definitely wasn’t getting any play, you hoped someone was recording or was a friend of zilla to show him two can play the game. the dudes hands palmed over your thighs are you leaned against him letting his head fall into your neck, the strong smell of henny coming from him.

“damn baby. you tryna get fucked in the back? all this ass forreal. bet that pussy good ass fuck, too.”

“nah. i got some in the back for yo ass tho.”

your eyes went wide as the dude was snatched from behind you. you quickly spun around to see him getting punched in the face by zilla.

how the hell? who the hell, actually?

“what the fuck is wrong with you? why would you do that?” you yelled, uselessly shoving him backwards

“shut the fuck up and getcho ass in the car. yo ass got me so fucked up.” he yelled grabbing your wrist to drag you out the club

“nah! i’m good. get the fuc—“

“yo man, i ain’t know she was yo bitch. she lookin like she was ready to take some.”

zilla moved back towards the guy delivering another punch to his eye landing him back onto his ass. he grabbed your wrist back into his tight grip pulling you outside the club.

“get off me!” you snatched your arm back from him

“this the shit you doin! dancing with another motherfucka like a hoe knowing you got a man? this why ion want you with her ass! she put you up to this bullshit!” he yelled looking over your shoulder glaring at janay

“nigga fuck you. i wouldn’t have to convince her of shit if your toxic ass wasn’t a liar! what makes you think she wasn’t gone go out tonight to nurse her heart after you wanted to be with some groupies on ig live?” janay responded with just as much hatred for zilla

“mind yo fuck ass business. you deadass? i told you what i was doin! where i was!”

“the next day in the afternoon? oh so you just man of the year? fuck you.” you gloated rolling your eyes

“watch yo fuckin mouth talkin’ to me like that. i ain’t having this conversation out here with you either. get in the car.”

“what so you can go to the club with random bitches but i do it? im a hoe? i’m the problem? you’re crazy.”

“oh so you in there giving other dudes some play? like they finna line up for pussy cause you got an attitude? ight. bet.” zilla opened the passenger seat to his car eyeing you “getcho stupid ass in the fuckin car. you ain’t about to be out here tryna give some other dudes some pussy on some independent revenge shit.”

“ugh! fuck!” you grunted into the mattress as zilla plowed into you from behind

“nah, you wanna be big and bad right? take that shit like a good girl, ma.” zilla breathed out placing his foot ontop of the bed giving himself more control to pull your ass backwards, “throw that shit back, ma.”

your mind couldn’t even put 2 and 2 together from his rhythm, so his request went unanswered. his hand roughly came down on your ass cheek making you gasp, “what i say? hm? throw that ass back like you was on ole dude.” his hand came down on another slap before you began to throw it back onto him

“yeaaa, that’s right. look at that pussy. only dick she’ll ever know. had that motherfucker’ thinkin he was finna get some tonight. thought my baby was gone give him some. you was gone give him some baby?”

“ah! n-“

his hand came down on another slap making your pussy clench around him in a death grip.

“tight ass pussy. you was gone give him some of my pussy? what belongs to me?”

you couldn’t shake the feeling overpowering your anger. your pussy aching for that release, you knew your man was going to give you. each thrust had a small sting as zilla was forcing you to take all of him without allowing you to adjust for a moment. zilla not only had a big ego, but a big dick to match it. each time feeling like the first of getting fucked. zilla was a whole lot to handle and sometimes you needed a moment to take him in before he got started. but tonight was different. you ran your mouth off and he was once again, fucking you into submission and near amnesia to sweep the nights activities under the rug.

the car ride was filled with spiteful words. soon as you got home, you grabbed a duffle bag deciding you couldn’t do it anymore. you couldn’t take him wanting to be a hypocrite, an asshole, and being friendly. you were over it. calling your bluff, he yanked the duffle bag out your hand.

“you ain’t going no fucking where. sit the fuck down and take them panties off. running yo fuckin’ mouth. put that ass in the air, ma.”

“you really think, i’m about to give your bitch ass some? nah! let that other bitch get your dick wet. fuck you!”

“there is no other bitch. you think i’m letting you go over some bratty ass attitude you got? you wanted to get fucked tonight right? let me give you whatchu want. get them panties off.”

all it took was for you to raise your dress up to ur hips for zilla to see you had no panties on, for you end up in your current position. dress torn to shreds around your body, him naked, and pumping his dick into your pussy with no mercy, making you take every inch he had.

“whatchu was on tonight? wearing no panties? you like making me like this shit huh? you worried about me fuckin’ her, all i’m worried about is fuckin’ you. but you wanna be annoying and shit.” he grunted before speeding up his thrust

“shit! zilla—ssss—wai—“ you hissed out as you pushed back against his abdomen at an attempt to get him to slow down

“this wet ass pussy, nawl. you wanna be grown, showin yo ass, right? take this shit.” he pulled both your arms back into his wrist pinning them against your back. he rammed his dick into your tight space, using the advantage against you.

your sobs bouncing off the walls with the noise of your pussy squelching with every move of his hips. you couldn’t stop leaking like a faucet onto his dick. your juices connecting you to his lap as your ass rippled with each draw back. zilla gathered some of your arousal onto his thumb before pushing against your 2nd hole; it immediately clenching onto him.

“shit, baby! oh! ohhhhhh myyyy goddd.” you moaned at the feeling

your expression was priceless. teary eyes, pouty lips, and whines with the sheets coated in drool at how your pussy had a tight fit around him as he pumped. it felt too good. zilla quickly averted his attention to the ceiling with his lip in between his teeth; he was about to nut watching your pussy squeeze him. tonight was about teaching you not to fuck with him. while he crossed the line in your head, you crossed the fuck out of it in his.

“fuck, ma! i love this pussy. you was gone take her from me?” he panted speeding up “this pussy ain’t goin n’where. you ain’t going n’where.” he moaned out “takin’ me all good and shit. whining about how big it is. you can take this dick—keep that back arched f’me.”

“mmmmm.” you cried out feeling your nut rushing towards you. if he didn’t slow down soon, with his dick and his thumb, you were gonna make a mess all on him and the bed

“you wanna cum, ma? you think you earned it?” he asked removing his thumb and grabbing your hair to pull you towards him. his hand lowering towards where you both were connected and rubbed your clit in circles making your mouth open on a scream “who owns you? who this pussy belongs to?”

you tired to form a sentence in your head—anything! to please him to let you cum.

“who owns you? whose pussy is this?”

“yours.” you croak out in a small voice throwing your ass into his lap chasing his high

“nah.” zilla bends you forward again pushing at your back for your arch, “you wanna cum f’me? show me how bad. get that nut, ma.”

you placed your hands onto the bed before reversing the roles and fucking yourself with his dick. your body shuddering as you pushed yourself onto him.

“whose pussy is this? you ain’t cummin’ till you tell me.”

“mmmm fuck! yours zilla! it’s your pussy! a—i’m cumminggg ahhh.” you collapsed—temporarily loosing consciousness—to the bed as you gushed around his dick, your pussy convulsing around him mimicking your body as you thrashed on the bed babbling. zilla following behind you flooding your pussy with his cum. he let out a moan watching it spill out around the sides.

he wrapped you into a bear hug, panting deep into your ear as your bodies shuttered. he released a deep guttural moan as his dick kept twitching with spurts of his cum still shooting out.

“you ain’t going no fuckin’ where y’understand me? this pussy stayin right here and so is you,” he panted into your ear “you’re mines. no other fuckin’ dude. remember that shit. im yours. and you mines.”

“if i catch you talking to those groupie ass bitches again. imma cut all of yall. i mean that shit.”

zilla let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you. he bit his lip at the sight of your pussy pushing out whatever it couldn’t fit inside onto the sheets.

“i know, ma. i know.” he responded before heading to the bathroom.

even though you were in and out of consciousness fighting sleep, you didn’t miss him grabbing his phone out his pants pocket before.

you heard the sound of the shower running, nearly tuning his voice out, “…yea…just put her to sleep. have them panties off f’me when i get there. y’know how i want it, baby…you and janay getting all this dick t’night, aaliyah. t’care of each other fore’ i pull up. wantchall ready fa me. betta be wet too…ight…on the way.”

FA THE PLOT???? 😭. i wanted this have a cute ending but my trauma wouldn’t allow it LMAOOOOOO. 2 FICS IN ONE DAY IS CRAZYYYY

[poisonlove]

so I have a request! Jenna x fem.reader, these two are long time best friends, reader knows that she is in love with jenna and for a distraction she start to date e boy. jenna are really jealous and then I need angst, drama but a happy ending mit fluff!

FRIENDS

Pairing: Jenna Ortega X Fem!reader

Status: request

Warning: fluff

Jenna and I had been friends forever.

A friendship that seemed destined to last forever, full of laughter, adventures, and confidences. We knew everything about each other and complemented each other in ways that no one else could understand.

But lately, the way I looked at Jenna had changed.

I noticed that my heart raced faster when she laughed at my jokes, and my stomach filled with butterflies every time our eyes met. My feelings for her had become deeper, more complex, more romantic.

However, I had never found the courage to tell her.

The fear of ruining our friendship, of losing her, held me back every time I tried to speak.

My distraction began when I started dating Luca.

He was kind, caring, and made me feel special.

But he wasn't Jenna.

He could never be.

Despite Luca being a great guy, I often found myself thinking about how it would be if Jenna were holding my hand, smiling at me from across the table.

His laughter didn’t have the same effect, and his hugs didn’t bring the same comfort. Every date with Luca made me wish Jenna were in his place.

Jenna, on the other hand, seemed more and more distant, and it hurt.

And I especially didn't understand why.

At first, I thought it was just a period of stress or fatigue from work on the set, but over time, I noticed she avoided our meetings, found excuses not to go out with me, and, when she did, she was always distracted, lost in her thoughts.

I tried to talk to her, to understand what was happening, but she would smile and change the subject, reassuring me that everything was fine.

But I knew it wasn’t true.

I sighed and rubbed my eyes, trying to ease the fatigue. It was midnight and I had to finish a report I had neglected all week.

The papers scattered on the desk and the computer full of data reminded me that I had to get it done. As I tried to focus, my phone suddenly rang, interrupting the silence.I looked up from the screen, surprised by the late-night call.

With a distracted movement, I picked up the phone and saw that it was Emma calling me.

“Hey, Emma?” I answered, trying to hide my exhaustion. “Do you need something?”

The background music was so loud that I had difficulty hearing Emma’s voice.

“You need to come here,” she murmured, worried. “Jenna is beside herself. She’s drunk too much and I’m afraid she might go into alcohol poisoning.”

My heart began to race.

“Where are you?” I asked, searching for my car keys on the desk.

“At George’s house,” Emma replied, distressed.

“I’ll see you there in five minutes,” I said, ending the call.

I arrived at George's house and the party was in full swing.

The deafening music, pumped out by a DJ in the corner of the living room, made the walls and floor vibrate. The crowd was dense and animated, boys and girls dancing closely together, lost in the powerful bass and captivating melodies. The air was thick with the pungent smell of smoke and the sweet aroma of alcohol, with clouds of vapor mixing above the heads of the attendees.

In the middle of the room, a beer pong table was surrounded by excited spectators who cheered and encouraged the players, laughter and shouts filling the air. On a sofa, a group of friends was engaged in animated conversations, while some exchanged passionate kisses in various corners of the room.

My attention was focused on finding Emma.

I caught sight of her near the kitchen, with a look of frustration and worry on her face. I made my way through the crowd, gently pushing to clear a path, until I reached her.

"You're finally here!" Emma exclaimed over the noise, pulling me towards her.

"Jenna won't listen to anyone."

"Where is she?" I asked, scanning the direction Emma indicated.

"In the kitchen," Emma said, grabbing my wrist and leading me through the chaos.

The kitchen was somewhat quieter than the rest of the house, though the music was still audible in the background. I saw Jenna sitting on a table, with a half-empty bottle of vodka next to her. Her head was resting on her arm, and her face clearly showed the signs of a night of excess.

"Jenna," I said, kneeling beside her.

"What are you doing?"

Jenna slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes hazy and confused.

She looked at me with a silly smile before recognizing me. "Is it you?" she slurred, reaching out a hand towards me.I felt myself blush under her touch but tried to remain calm.

"Yes, I came to get you," I said in a steady voice, even though my heart was pounding.

Jenna's smile quickly faded, and she tried to get up from the table, swaying.

"Why aren't you with Luca? He's perfect, right?" she said with a hint of bitterness in her voice.

I bit my lower lip, trying to stay calm.

"Jenna, don't do this."

She grabbed the vodka bottle angrily. "I don't care," she muttered. "Leave me alone."

I grabbed the bottle, taking it from her hands.

"Enough, Jenna. You can't keep going like this."

She stared at me, her anger turning into pain. "Why do you care so much?" she asked, her voice trembling.

I looked into her eyes, trying to convey all my sincerity.

"Because I can't stand to see you like this."

Jenna stared at me for a long moment, then she let herself lean against me. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Her arms wrapped around my waist.

I turned to Emma, seeking a solution. "Can we go upstairs?" I asked, hoping for a bit more privacy and calm.

Emma nodded quickly. "Sure, let's use the guest room. Follow me."

With difficulty, I supported Jenna as Emma led us up the stairs.

Each step was hard, Jenna swaying and struggling to maintain her balance. The noise of the party seemed to fade as we moved away from the chaos of the ground floor.

Finally, we reached the guest room.

It was a small, quiet room with soft lighting and a neatly made bed.

I gently laid Jenna down on the bed, trying to be as gentle as possible while she complained about her discomfort.

"Sss, it's going to be okay," I whispered, gently stroking her hair.

Jenna looked at me with glassy eyes, her iris almost completely obscured by her dilated pupils. Even though her gaze was clouded by alcohol, there was a depth of emotion that I couldn't ignore. I realized I was studying her features, captivated by a beauty that, even in that state, shone brightly. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her disheveled hair falling in disarray over her delicate features, and her full, plump lips seemed almost inviting.

Without meaning to, my gaze fell on her lips. I felt a sudden wave of warmth that made my cheeks flush and my heartbeat quicken. I tried to look away, the embarrassment growing inside me, but every time I attempted to shift my focus, I inevitably found myself drawn back to her.

"I'll get you an aspirin," I said awkwardly, trying to move away to regain control of my emotions.

But before I could get up from the bed, Jenna grabbed my hand, holding it tightly.

"No, don't go," she murmured, her eyes filled with an intensity I had never seen before."Jenna, you need to rest," I said softly, but she shook her head, gripping my hand even more tightly.

"I have to tell you something," she insisted, her voice slurred by alcohol but full of determination. "I... I love you, Y/N. I've always loved you. It hurts to see you with someone else."

My heart ached at her words, but the fact that she was so drunk made me doubt her sincerity.

"Jenna, you're drunk. You don’t know what you're saying."

Anger flashed in her eyes, and in an instant, Jenna grabbed the collar of my shirt, pulling me towards her.

"Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what I’m saying," she hissed, her gaze burning with emotion. "I love you, Y/N/N. And I hate seeing you with Luca."

I was taken aback by the sudden clarity in her voice and the sharpness of her gaze, which starkly contrasted with her drunken state. There was no slurring or confusion; her words were firm and incisive, and the way she looked at me seemed laden with a truth I couldn't ignore.

My heart raced, and the intensity of her words caught me off guard.

I tried to respond, but the words seemed stuck in my throat, unable to find an appropriate answer to her confession. The atmosphere between us grew charged, while Jenna continued to look at me with unwavering, determined eyes.

She looked at me with fury and then, without warning, kissed me forcefully.

The kiss tasted of alcohol, a mix of vodka and desperation, and for a moment, I let myself be overwhelmed by the intensity of her emotions.

Her lips were warm and insistently pressed against mine.

Jenna started to increase the intensity, her hands trying to remove my shirt. I looked at her with wide eyes, my heart racing.

"Jenna, wait..." I tried to say, but her hands, feverish and impatient, didn’t stop.

Her determination and the heat of her touch made me uneasy.

I could feel my heart pounding, and my body wasn’t sure whether to reject her advance.

"I don’t know if I should..." I said, my voice trembling. "This isn’t the right time."

Jenna looked at me with intensity, the pain and passion in her eyes palpable.

"Don’t you understand how much I’ve thought about you?" she whispered, her voice laden with desperation. "I can’t bear to see you with someone else. You’re everything to me, Y/N."

Her glassy and penetrating gaze fixed on me with an unexpected clarity, as if every word was a fragment of raw truth that I couldn’t ignore. Her words intertwined with the depth of her look, creating a palpable tension that filled the air around us.

Despite the intensity of the moment, I still felt unsure.

"Jenna, I don’t know if I can do this..." I said, my voice trembling.

Confusion and uncertainty overwhelmed me, and the fear of making a mistake held me back.Sensing my conflict, Jenna moved closer slowly, her expression growing softer and more pleading.

"Please," she whispered, her hands still trembling as they caressed my face. "I don’t want to lose you. I only want you, Y/N."

The warmth of her hand on my skin and the sincerity in her voice began to melt my reservations. Her eyes, though clouded by alcohol, were filled with a truth I couldn’t ignore. I felt my heart quicken, my mind wrestling between reason and desire.

After a moment of hesitation, I moved closer to Jenna, my breath shortening as I tried to navigate between the confusion and the attraction I felt. The decision to give in to the moment became inevitable, and with my heart pounding, I moved towards her, preparing to confront the truth of my feelings.

Our lips touched initially with tenderness, as if it were a timid and uncertain exploration. But soon, the contact grew more intense, her lips pressing against mine with a gentle yet determined pressure, as if trying to convey everything she couldn’t express in words.

My hands move quickly, grabbing the edges of her dress and pulling it off with a decisive gesture. Jenna giggles, surprised and amused by my sudden gesture.

“So desperate,” she says, with a mischievous tone and a playful look, as I reach for her neck, kissing it fervently.

"But listen, five minutes ago you were begging me and now you're acting innocent?" I murmur shyly against her skin, Jenna's laughter soon replaced by moans of pleasure.

Jenna's hand moves closer to my neck, pulling me further towards her, increasing the intensity of the contact.

I stop kissing her neck and pull away slightly, looking at Jenna with sudden apprehension.

“You're sure, right?” I ask, my embarrassment evident.

Jenna smiles at me with an expression full of confidence and desire. “I've never been more confident,” she replies, her smile bright.

[astonmartinii]

Hi, love your work. Could you please write a Lando Norris x engineer!reader thank you 🥰

team bonding | lando norris social media au

pairing: lando norris x engineer!reader

people start to notice the chemistry between lando and his race engineer

yourusername

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo and 11,067 others

tagged: yourbff

yourusername: life between races ✨

view all comments

lilaclando part time race enginner full time mother

landonorris so where was my karaoke invite?

yourusername you'd really come all the way from monaco to do karaoke with my uni friends ???

landonorris duh

mclarenlover he's so in love you can't tell me otherwise

oscarpiastri the real question is what song did you sing?

yourusername man i feel like a women obviously

oscarpiastri taste as always

landonorris

liked by yourusername, estebanocon and 601,843 others

landonorris: what happens at the monaco after party stays at the monaco after party

view all comments

babynorris i did not know lando was friends with mick and este but i am living for this

estebanocon the best nights are the ones you don't remember

mickschumacher where is dj lando?

lando4ever are we all just collectively ignoring the girl in the last slide?

leclerc16x call me delusional but that looks like his race engineer

landonorizzzzz ur delusional (i hope you're right)

f1wagsupdates

liked by lando4ever, lilacleclerc and 1,304 others

tagged: yourusername

f1wagsupdates: in his most recent post lando norris included a picture of a girl many believe to be his race engineer y/n y/ln. she's worked with lando for just over a year and are a beloved duo in f1, with their radio conversations being a huge source of entertainment. what do you think of this potential couple: cute or unprofessional?

view all comments

babygirllando i think it would be cute... i mean we've all heard the radios... the one when lando crashed... she was so stressed

maxyverstappen i mean that's kinda her job?

kittyrussell as much as i would love this couple, they work together like HR violation ???

norrisszn maybe the issue here is y'all assuming everything all the time ? they're clearly friends? i didn't know you couldn't party with your friends

LN4 literally people assume shit every time and cause the issues

f1

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 421,077 others

tagged: landonorris

f1: lando norris is back on the podium in austria after some quick thinking from his race engineer y/n y/ln helped the brit undercut the alpines to take third!

view all comments

landonorris your fave duo tearing it up

yourusername we slayed 💅

glitterlando I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT RAT STEINER SAYS THEY’RE CUTE AND PROFESSIONAL

planetdannyric this is what you get steiner - double haas dnf and y/n being a big component of lando's podium KARMA

danielricciardo team work makes the dream work !! happy for you two 🏆

hugsforlando danny being a landoy/n shipper so true of him

landonorris

liked by danielricciardo, yourusername and 531,778 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: after the last couple weeks, y/n has been subject to the most ridiculous and disgusting ridicule from people from within our own sport. y/n y/ln is one of the most talented individuals in f1 and i am forever grateful that she is on my team! i think we all saw how important she is to my success, so appreciation post for my rock! x

view all comments

howdyricciardo god they are so cute whether they're a couple or just friends

yourusername awwww thank you lando i don't care what they say we continue to slay

landonorris lets fucking go

flowersforlando i need this couple to happen fuck steiner

smoooooothoperator no cause power couple for real

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 49,671 others

yourusername: don't let any man tell you that you can't do it

p.s. slagging off your drivers in your book and on national television is more unprofessional than anything i could ever do

view all comments

mickschumacher ❤️

danielricciardo as the children say - mother

landonorris forever proud of you y/n

yourusername thank you landinho

maxverstappen1 let's gooooooooo

carlossainz55 tell them !!

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexalbon and 772,109 others

tagged: yourusername

landonorris: what if i told you i don't care, our team chemistry is unmatched

view all comments

yourusername not exactly how i thought we were going to do this but i love you silly ❤️

landonorris i love you more

danielricciardo so it is true !!! was about to ask you if you finally grew some balls and asked

landonorris dude don't out me on main

lewishamilton so so happy for you guys !!

yoursricciardo omg parents

lovelylando they make me believe in love for real

yourusername

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1 and 71,209 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername: i'd take all the shit in the world to stay with you ❤️

p.s. let's get that win baby

view all comments

violetleclerc i will be seated for lando's maiden win and y/n excellence

landonorris i love you so much (and the win is coming, i can feel it)

yourusername you'll get what you deserve in due time

maxverstappen1 does the camera man not get a shout out?

yourusername thank you for being our personal photographer, not my fault you tackle my phone out of my hands whenever i try to take a pic of you :/

note: hope you enjoyed, i'm finally getting through the requests !! xx

[p1utofairy]

PICK A CARD

“kissin’ and hope they caught us.”

what will a night out with your future partner be like?

disclaimer ✩: 18+ mature themes. take what resonates, leave what doesn't. this is my early thanksgiving gift to y’all 💗 i’m so thankful for the constant support and feedback idk how many times i can say it lol but thank you. enjoy and have a great holiday!

PILE i.

i can see you two in a club/party setting. the music is so loud it's pulsing through your veins, it's not usually your scene, but your person is right by your side holding you close. their hand is resting slightly on your back/waist guiding you through the crowd — i feel like they'll smell really good too they have a distinct fragrance on that's comforting to you. i feel like you'll be so giddy and excited to be outside with them and be seen together. lots of heads will turn for sure. i feel like y'all are a power couple…like looking at you two walking in together just makes sense but it also triggers jealousy and disbelief in other people? you and your person may come from different backgrounds or have different aesthetics but y’all pair together very well. they’re gonna be looking so smug lollll your person is the silent but confident type, like having you on their arm will shut everybody up and they’ll love it. this person could be very popular or well-known in their profession…i'm getting a serena van der woodsen type of vibe so people can definitely be infatuated with them. you might not even like dancing but you will with them! you're gonna be on cloud 9 the whole night, pile 1. some of you might not smoke or drink but you’ll feel high/drunk off them the entire night it’s so cute! u are my high by dj snake and future vibes for sure.

PILE ii.

the atmosphere is sensual af, pile 2. it's giving the vibe of a private dinner at an upscale restaurant/bar or hotel. your person planned this out very meticulously, and they managed to pull it off without you knowing too many details. you’ll be so happy to be sitting across from them and enjoying their company — i feel like you both don't always have the time to just sit and unwind because you both have very demanding jobs/schedules. i see you two flirting a lot with your eyes and smiling so big…the energy is very warm and playful. the sexual tension will be very thick between the two of you lol they might make comments throughout the night about how good you look. the lighting seems very dim and red seems to be the major theme so you could be wearing a red dress, they might give you a bouquet of red roses, their shirt might be red — idk it's something along those lines lol the color red is just significant for some reason. the food, their company, and the ambiance will be 100000/10 and the night won't stop there 😮‍💨 cause when they get you back home? soon as i get home by faith evans just came to mind LOL yeah they’re going to want to make up for lost time and please you in any and every way that they can. OKAYYY PILE 222.

PILE iii.

ah this is my introverted pile! i don't think you get out much, pile 3. if you do it's usually because someone begged you to come out and socialize or you pushed yourself to go. you like having your own space and privacy, and sometimes it's a bit overwhelming having to constantly socialize and be around a whole bunch of people that may not mesh with you. i think that your person will be receptive to this, and will take baby steps to get you out of your shell. they’d take you somewhere where you can relax and be comfortable like a drive-in movie theater or maybe somewhere in nature…it's somewhere you both can be alone and in your own bubble tuning out the rest of the world. i can see them holding you close and you’re leaned back against them just so content and reveling in the precious moment. it’s a night you’ll never forget because you’ll realize just how much they mean to you, and how far you’ve come in this connection. it's reminding me of that picture of ariana grande and mac miller at coachella. so so cute.

PILE IV.

y'all are that cute couple that ride for each other, okay!!! y'all will be so in loveeeeeee my GOSH the passion and desire will be so heavy and evident between you two. lana and asap rocky in the ‘national anthem’ music video vibes — it's like that bad boy meets good girl trope. i feel like this person would want to take you places you’ve never been before…they’d want to get all dressed up in fancy clothes and go out on the town with you. there'd be multiple activities in one night. omg they're so spontaneous it'd feel never-ending! you two will be so giddy around each other lol always cracking jokes and laughing about any and everything. i don’t think that it matters where they take you per se, pile 4. you will have the time of your life regardless. they just know how to light up every room that they walk in and ensure that everyone is having a good time! it's so cute and refreshing, ugh. they're going to really sweep you off your feet. they might have a really nice car and you’ll love being a ✨passenger princess✨ LMFAO they might tease you about it too. this person will be your best friend just as much as they are your true love.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

I'm glad to hear your power's back. I don't need any dividers, but I wonder if you might be able to make a graphic I can use for a pinned post?

"KARKED-UP REGULATIONS" is going to be all about the contents of the GAR reg manuals. As far as colors and iconography, I'm not too particular--dark shades and trooper-related graphics, I suppose. The GAR cog would make sense, and you already know what I look like (holos of me with the 501st or the Batch are both fine).

Thanks for taking the time to do this. It's appreciated.

Hi Echo! Thanks for the request; this was a fun one to tackle. I hope this is close to what you had in mind. Let me know if you'd rather I make one that has holos of you and your brothers, and I'll see what I can do!

[vacayisland]

hiya!! can i req a short of king trollex getting injured while in barb's captivity? hurt or hurt/comfort, thanks for considering!

@!; Isolation for the soul (this isn't what I wanted) Trollex / Reader

"Summary"! Have you ever had to sit in a deafening silence? The torturing type of silence. All you ever wanted was some sort of peace, a moment of silence away from the noise. You never thought your wish would be answered in the cruelest way. "Tags"! Hurt / Comfort (a little lest comfort), y'all got the better version of the two stories in my head &lt;3

@!; You always wanted some sort of silence, for an hour, thirty minutes, a minute, a second. It had never been quiet in Techno Reef, it had never been… quiet. And god, you had always wished for some sort of silence, but not silence like this. Not the deafening kind of silence, not the dreary silence, not the alone, abandoned, self-hatred fill silence that creeps up on you and holds you captive. The type that taunts you, haunts you, as you can do nothing but sit and be all consumed by it, encompassed by it constantly. No remorse will find you at the deepest depths of the ocean. You were alone, utterly and wholly. It was only meant to be a quick swim, one to get away from the noise of everyone and the noise of the rave that had been happening at the time. You had told Trollex this, having gone to his side and tapped his shoulder. Even while DJing, he had turned to you with the brightest grin. He had cupped your cheeks, he had given you such a big kiss and then a bigger hug as he softly told you to be careful; to get home soon, to not do anything too dangerous. You know he meant it more then than when he had told you before, after all you both were splitting egg-holding duty. Trollex had one of the twin eggs in his hair, safely tucked away and hidden, and you did too. You had brushed off his warning, giving him a playful look and quipped back he should be careful with the speakers more than anything. He had laughed, gave you one last smooch before you pulled away laughing and rushed off for your swim; yelling at him goodbye, that you would see him later. Later. How much later?

You sat at his DJ booth, sunk down on the floor as you held the only part of Trollex you still had; The egg, which was still warm yet slowly becoming cold due to the ocean. You know you should keep them in your hair, keep them warm so they will hatch yet… you were too alone, too afraid to be alone, to do that right now. Hugging the egg close, you pressed your cheek against the top as you tried to choke back your sobs. Funny, how silence was now the last thing you wanted. Ironic that the only thing you wanted now, more than ever, was the loud blaring music of the Techno reef; to hear your lover shout to the crowd, hyping them up louder than need be. Yet, all you sat in was a cold, silent reef; Having come back to nothing but silence, nothing but destruction, nothing but… nothing. It had been deserted, lettering spelling out ‘Rock’ etched into the side of the reefs and the coral. At first, you had thought it was a tasteless prank pulled by Trollex and the others; He had always been a prankster, had everyone pretend they forgot your birthday so he could throw you a big party and then a smaller one with just you and him and your friends at the end of the day. You had called for them, searched for everyone for hours before you realized you were alone. That feeling hit hard. Even more so when you stood in the center of the rave spot, seeing everything desolate, destroyed, and powered off. It felt strangely empty and cold. You felt strangely empty and cold.

And you panicked, laughing a little as you called out for people. Called out for everyone, anyone, anything! You threw things around, overturned rocks, checked buildings and hiding spots and everywhere you could think, yet no matter how hard you searched you were alone. And you didn’t know why. Why did they leave you? Did you do something? Did no one want to be around you anymore? Was the rave just a ploy to get you to swim away so everyone could pack up and leave? Leave without all their things, pack up and move to a new palace, rich. You didn’t think you had been rude to anyone or did anything to upset anyone, yet now you rethought all of that. Sitting alone, abandoned and utterly cold, you rethought everything you had done; All the words you had said, all the reactions you had given and all the ones you didn’t, all the gifts, all the yeses and nos, all of it. All at once it made you homesick and deathly lonely. It made you think, wonder, if you had shown even just a little more interest, if you had tried a little more, you wouldn’t be in this situation. You wouldn’t be alone, sitting by Trollex’s turntable with nothing but the silence you now wished would go away and be filled with deathly loud blaring music. Even if it was just for a short amount of time.

@!; A week, that’s what it took for Queen Poppy to save the day with the help of her friends. For everyone to restore their sense of music without the need of strings, singing from their hearts and letting music just be. No more Rock-apocalypse. No more feuding and isolation of tribes! Everything was right together again. “This is amazing!” Queen Poppy exclaimed, her arms extending as she watched all the trolls in the crowd interact with each other as though there were no differences; Showing each other their music, chatting and laughing, giggling too. Even the tribal leaders were interacting among the stage. As Poppy turned towards her new found friends, the biggest grin across her face, she paused. There was a small group crowded around the Techno tribe’s leader, who had fallen down onto the stage; He was coughing harshly, tears brimming at the corner of his eyes as a hand was balled against his chest. Poppy, at first, thought it was due to his coughing fit and had rushed over while shuffling around her hair for some sort of cough drop. “Poppy! Poppy, stop-” Yet Branch stopped her, grabbing her shoulder and pulling Poppy back as she sputtered out some sort of yell. “Branch I have cough drops I can help-” Poppy would spew out, rushing around in her hair to find something, anything, to help her new friend. Yet, Branch only cupped her cheeks and turned her attention over to where Trollex was sitting, forcing her to take a second look. That’s when she spotted it, seeping and clumping up under Trollex’s hand was blood.

That’s when Delta’s shouting for a medic began to ring in Poppy’s ears. That’s when Baarb had stopped on stage, her breath hitched as she realized what she had done. That’s when a hush fell over the stage as looks were passed around, unsure what to do about the current situation. Half weren’t even sure how this had happened, or how it went unnoticed during the whole song and dance number performed minutes earlier! “Medic, Y’all we need a medic!” Delta shouted as she extended one of Trollex’s fins, noting the other gash that ran down his leg. Trollex tried shaking his head, trying to say how he would be fine, yet he was only hushed when Delta had applied some disinfecting cream (which she got from Branch) around his flipper gash.  “Uh-huh,” Delta mumbled sarcastically as Poppy and Queen Essence tried to get a Techno medic to help, “Pumpkin, you’re as fine as a horse who’s broken his leg! Stop playin’ the hero, you’re hurt.” But Trollex only shook his head again, knowing there was only so much time he had, “I have to get back home! I-” Though he was only interrupted again as he kicked his flipper towards Delta, feeling the disinfecting cream again. “Hey, we’re all safe and here, right? There’s no rush to get back home! So just stay here and let us help you,” Branch tried to reason with Trollex, yet this wasn’t his speciality. This was something more in Poppy’s area, yet she was off trying to get a medic from the Techno tribe to help Trollex.

“He’s right, you’re going to sit your ass here and not move!-” Started Delta, her adamant tone apparent as she gestured for Branch to hold down Trollex’s fin. If Trollex was involuntarily kicking her for applying disinfecting cream to his fin, she did not want to know how hard he’ll kick once she tried to disinfect the gash on his chest. As Delta carefully moved Trollex’s hand away from his chest, Barb (nervous and almost paralyzed with uncertainty and guilt) tried to jump in to ask how she or anyone could help; Knowing she had accidentally taken things a little too far after the whole rebellion Trollex tried to start to get back the strings—which Barb didn’t exactly appreciate at the time, even if he was the only one who actually had to courage to try and face her. She also regretted threatening the egg that Trollex had been hiding in his hair. Not like she was actually ever going to attack it, that would be going too far, yet… Barb stopped mid-way through her apology as she saw the expressions the others were giving her. She gave a, what looked to be, sheepish smile. “Yeah, maybe you should have cut it off before you started spewing about threatening to attack a baby troll.” Delta pointed out, flabbergasted that Barb would even act upon such a thought; even if it was an empty threat with nothing behind it. “Yeah…” Barb agreed, rubbing the back of her neck.

Luckily, no one had to sit on this subject for long as Poppy rushed back while waving her hands and shouting that they had found a medic from the Techno tribe. The medic had paused at first, a look of terror crossing their face as they saw Trollex. That was, until they were nudged by Poppy to go help and in which they instantly got to work; Pulling out bandages made from a mixture of seaweed, seagrass, and kelp to help stop the bleeding while the salt will help disinfect the wounds. “How’s the little one?” The medic would ask as he made quick work of tightened up the bandages around Trollex’s torso. Carefully, not wanting to ruin the bandages, Trollex reached up into his hair and produce the warm egg; it was slightly colder than it should be, as the ocean temperatures help regulate Techno eggs as much as the parents' hair does—due to the unfuzzy nature of Techno trolls’ hair, the extra warmth from the ocean is needed to stimulate growth within the egg. The medic passed the bandages off to Delta, who got a bit confused upon seeing the bandages but shrugged and went to work bandaging his fin, as the medic stood up. They held out their hands, a silent request to take the egg. Yet, Trollex looked weary passing the egg on. He brought it to himself slightly, a look of confliction crossing his face. And that’s when the medic grew a somber look, knowing the reason behind his hesitation. They haven’t seen you since the attack, and Trollex was sure you had come back before it all. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Poppy jumped in on a chance to try and help, noticing the frowned eyebrows and the somber looks that the two trolls shared. Yet, she received no response. Which clouded the others with nerves, unsure what to do or what to say or how to help with a situation they had no information on. “Excuse me, Barb…” The medic would turn to Queen Barb, who stiffened a little at the sudden addressment. She looked at the two, glancing between them, as the Medic glanced down at Trollex with an unreliable expression for a moment. Trollex would only shake his head, in which the Medic would take a step away from everyone; Creating some sort of space that seemingly was needed for this situation. Trollex was careful as he tried to push himself onto his fins, Delta and Branch helping to support him back up as Trollex held his egg. He kept his eyes down at it for a while, a silence fogged over the silent stage as chatter from other trolls in the crowd could be heard. And despite that, it seemed overly quiet. “Barb,” Trollex started cautiously, trying to pick and choose his words. His eyes narrowed, a pained expression flashed in his eyes as he glanced up at Barb,  “Did you ever harm someone from my Tribe?” “Yeah…?” Barb started, cautiously and a little nervous at the look she was getting. “You!... by accident.”

“No, not me! I mean another Techno troll who happened to be, like, this tall and also had an egg with them that looks like mine?” Trollex hugged the egg tighter in effect to try and show he was crossing his arms in some sort of way. Yet the worry that crossed his face was more than enough to show he wasn’t playing, if anyone had even thought that in the first place. And the panicked look that crossed with realization that flashed across Trollex’s face the second that Barb had said “no” freaked the others out more. Yet, in Trollex’s mind, all he could think about was you. You; Who could possibly be all alone at this moment. You; Who was most likely left in the desolate and destroyed Techno reef. You; Who didn’t handle abandonment well. You; You consumed his thoughts as worry began to boil over him, flooding every single vein on his body as horrible images flashed through his head on what you could be facing right at this moment. None of them he liked. All of them lead to one conclusion; He had to get back to you right now.

@!; A week of isolation was not the best for a Troll; Nevertheless a week of isolation with self deprecating thoughts without something to stop them while having to take care of an egg was absolute torture. At times you wanted to smash the egg, hatred boiling over your body at the isolation, at the fact that you had been left, at yourself; Yet you had always managed to catch yourself before you did so and you always felt so much shame for acting in such a way. How could you try and kill your own child, who had done nothing wrong? How could you even think about taking their life before they had even been able to experience the world? How could you be such a monster? You sometimes grew so disgusted with yourself that you couldn’t touch your egg for hours; Simply taking to stare at it after having wrapped it in a kelp blanket as you replayed the terrifying scene in your mind. So many times you had been close to snapping, so many times you had almost smashed the egg or decided to leave it alone and pray it got eaten. So many times you thought about leaving it entirely and going on your own way, to leave this all behind instead of sticking around with some sort of sickening hope that someone, anyone, would come back and help. Something kept you here though, caged you in your own torture. Trapped you in isolation with a choking self hatred that you couldn’t shake no matter how much you tried. You weren’t sure how long ago you had the color sucked out of you, you hadn’t been counting how long everyone had been gone. You hadn’t slept well since that day, so you couldn’t even attempt to judge the days.

You hadn’t even realized when Trollex had returned, even despite the group of people he had following him (due to his injuries). The ringing in your ears blocked out the shouting, the fuzz in your brain made it hard to think of anything anymore. “Starfish?” Trollex shouted, panicking as he zipped around Techno reef. He turned over every building, trying to find any place you could be isolating yourself at. “Dude, hey!” Synth tried to follow Trollex, “You’re injured, slow down!” He shouted, glancing back at other leaders who had decided to follow. He just had to make sure they were good in the air bubbles they had blown for them before he zipped off towards Trollex, just to make sure he didn’t make his injuries worse. Yet, Trollex couldn’t care less about everyone else. He needed to find you, scratch that he was going to find you before anymore time could pass. “Starfish? Love?” And that’s when he found you at his DJ station, back resting against his turntables as you stared at the kelp-wrapped egg in front of you. Something in Trollex made him stop, despite the feeling that made him want to lunge at you and tackle you in a hug. He knew you were bad alone, even more so horrible with overthinking, and he had expected you to be in a bad shape when he found you yet… not this. Not gray. He had promised you wouldn’t hurt when you started dating and he had failed.

Trollex was more careful to approach you this time around, slowly swimming around his turntables to sit down next to you. He wanted to do nothing more than to hug you, to reassure that he was back and he didn’t mean to leave you. That all those nasty thoughts in your head were nothing but lies, yet he wasn’t even sure where to start; You were so out of it that you hadn’t even acknowledged him yet. In the background, Synth had finally caught up with Trollex enough to see what was happening. He had paused himself seeing the scene, even backing up a little to give you both some sort of privacy; stopping the other tribe leaders as well. They couldn’t see much from where they floated, yet they could make out Trollex carefully taking the second egg into his hands and storing it in his hair along with the first, before turning to you—all gray and desolate. The silence was deafening, it was so deafening all you wanted to do was to cover your ears and forget sound existed at all. Yet, as you tried to cover your ears your hands were caught by Trollex’s; His familiar hands, the way your hands fit into his, and the warmth. It made you crumble, despite everything that circled in your mind like a tornado and you were pulled into a hug instantly. A warm hug, a familiar one. Most importantly one that could cloud all the silence with a simple ‘thump’, ‘thump’, ‘thump’. 

.ᐟ this work is published and owned by @vacayisland. please do not plagiarize, copy, or steal this work; like, reblogs, and saves are appreciated :D

[golbrocklovely]

careful what you wish for // sam and colby (pt. 4)

A/N: first off, terribly sorry this came out so late. i've had a hectic last couple days, and didn't get to finish this fic up until tonight. and sadly, this the last thing i'm posting for my 13 nights of halloween. it's crazy to think that this is finally over. to anyone curious i will be getting back to answering asks by tomorrow. i'll also be writing up my review of hell week, and any other random things i had planned to write about/review before my 13 nights. also, i know so many of you have been waiting eagerly for this next installment, so sorry for the long awaited update. but hopefully it's made better by this fic. happy belated halloween, and happy haunting !

prompt: sam and colby have left you high and dry, so now you've resorted to possibly hooking up with a coworker at an event. but sam and colby will be having NONE of that. || vampire!sam and demon!colby x fem!reader

trigger warning: SO MUCH SMUT, manipulation via powers (surprise! it's not you this time), fucking in a public, fucking with a crowd watching, the crowd is also all of your coworkers, dumb business shit that i know nothing about bc i went to school for theater and work in retail lol, fourth wall break (spooky), cursing, degrading language, being bit but no blood drawn), mentions of: princess, baby girl, baby, slut, whore, called a fleshlight once, unprotected sex (but no fear of getting pregnant bc they're supernatural), gets a bit dark and possessive towards the end, heavy use of MINE and OURs, snc own you so…. if you don't like that don't read,

word count: 7077

~~~~~~~~~

It was Halloween night, and while you usually looked forward to Halloween, this night was a bit different. The company you worked at was having their annual 'Final Fiscal Quarter Party'. The higher ups agreed that it would be easier to throw it during October, rather than in December. Individual offices could throw their own then, but the main, big event was happening tonight.

Your company rented out a huge hotel ballroom. There was catering, a local DJ playing some family friendly tunes, and a stage where awards were going to be given out. You had been to a couple of these events over the years, but they were always very... boring. You would much rather be at home, snuggled up, watching a scary movie.

Or maybe getting fucked by your... boyfriends? It was hard to describe the relationship you had with Sam and Colby. They used you, but you used them. It was a very symbiotic relationship in that way. But currently, you weren't really too keen on them.

You considered hitting up your old friend, Jess. She was the one, after all, that magically brought Sam and Colby into your life. You hadn't talked to her in a long time. It could be because she still blamed you for the book permanently shutting and ruining her dating life forever.

She could bitch all she wanted, but she wasn't the one being stalked and fucked by a demon and a vampire.

You had grown a bit tired of Sam and Colby, their antics, and their overall ability to flip your world upside down. The sex was great, obviously. But at what cost?

Not to mention, they hadn't spoken to you, or showed up, in months. You were going through a bit of a dry spell, and hated the fact that they hadn't answered your calls. So, it did cross your mind to get rid of them. Permanently.

But that was an issue for another time. Right now, all you had to focus on was getting just drunk enough to enjoy this stuffy party, but not too drunk that you get messy.

And that came a bit easy for you. Across the bar, a handsome man smiled at you, giving you a nod as you accepted his drink. You could see his paper nametag said Brian, and you hadn't recognized him from your own office - so he was a safe bet. God knows you weren't the only one trying to hook up with someone tonight. Plenty of colleagues from different divisions were going to be getting crazy tonight. It was an inside joke amongst the company that this night was usually a fuckfest.

You gazed over at Brian, admiring his silky quaffed hair and great suit. He had a lovely smile; one he shot your way over the glass of whiskey he had in his hand.

A man like Brian seemed... dependable. A good choice for a significant other. Boring, basic, Brian. Maybe that's exactly what you needed. Something steady and settled. Not... supernatural.

Yeah, but could you ever fuck a man like Brian? A man like him could never fulfill your needs. You could hear Colby's voice in the back of your head.

You rolled your eyes, taking a long sip from your wine glass. No. Brian might seem a bit basic on the surface, but who knows? Deep down he could be a sex god. Maybe he was packing some serious heat, and just knew all the right ways to eat a woman out. Yeah, that's what's you would be focusing on. Not the imagine that Sam and Colby would surely try to paint in your head.

You were brought out of your thoughts as the lights dimmed up and down, signaling everyone to get to their seats, as the speeches and award ceremony was going to start soon. You shot a look at Brian one more time and found your seat quickly.

The head of the company sauntered up on stage as applause erupted throughout the room. He nodded his head, shooting a couple people smiles and finger guns. Eventually as the room quieted down, he stepped up to the podium, beginning his speech.

"Good evening, everyone. I'm so happy you all could make it here tonight. Happy Halloween by the way. Isn't this much better than a Christmas party?" He let out a solid laugh, swatting at the crowd jokingly. "But as I was saying, tonight we are all here to celebrate. This company might be big, but it's the little guys - the individuals - that deserve the praise the most. Sure, I'm the head and face of this place, but you guys are what make it possible."

Another round of claps came from the room. You glanced around and noticed that the chair next to you was empty. There was a name tag on the plate, designating this spot for a "Colson Brock".... whoever that was.

"Now before the awards begin, I would like to introduce you all to someone remarkable. This man has helped shape this company in many ways. And, he's incredibly sexy. So let's all give a round of applause for Samson Golbach." The CEO grinned brightly, gesturing to the side of the stage.

You raised an eyebrow, Sexy? That's a strange word to use at a business party. Not to mention, The CEO was married to a woman so... this was all a bit confusing. You awkwardly clapped as the light shined on a man with light blonde hair. He was in an all-black suit, his hair gelled in a sleek look. He waved at the crowd, smirking mischievously. He smiled once he got to the podium, his fangs glistening in the light.

Was that... Sam?

You gasped in your seat, staring up with wide eyes at the stage. It looked like him, but you had never seen him in a suit. Plus he wasn't exuding the same energy he usually would so, maybe this wasn't him. Maybe this was his doppelganger, or someone that looked extremely like him. You sat back in your chair, narrowing your eyes up at the man.

"Thank you all for having me here today. I know many of you don't know who I am, but that's by design. I purposefully like to stay in the shadows, remain almost anonymous. It's a system I built to keep this company running at breakneck speed, and so far... this has been our most successful year to date!" Samson cheered.

You could feel the room clap again, happy with Sam... Samson's words. You took a deep breath, your anger rising. This can't be Sam. Sure, it looked like him and even sounded like him. But Sam and Colby had never taken this... thing, with you outside of your own house. There was no way they would do this to you in front of all of your coworkers and colleagues.

"It's nice to finally be appreciated and received so well. I'm sure you've all had some crazy days and night working here. I usually work all hours of the night and barely get to see the sun. You would think I was some sort of a vampire or something." Samson chuckled, some members of the crowd following suit. He turned, catching your eye, and gave you a wink.

Did he just...

The chair next to you pulled back, a man sat down hastily. He cleared his throat, catching his breath. He unbuttoned his dark blue suit jacket, the silver pinstripes reflecting in the light. Your eyes traveled up the man's form, taking him in until finally stopping on his face. Everything about him was familiar, but his hair was pushed back, exposing his forehead. He took his glasses off, cleaning the lenses and sliding them back on.

“You've got to be fucking kidding me.” You growled.

The man, Colby, turned to look at you suddenly. “I'm... sorry?”

You crossed your arms tightly, sitting back in your chair. “I can't believe that you and Sam would do this.”

He gave a weary smile. “I'm so sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

“Right, Colby.” You huffed.

“Colby? That's a silly name,” he chuckled. “My name is Colson.”

“Of course it is.” You turned to him sharply, “You know you two have a lot of audacity to do this.”

He shook his head awkwardly. “Again, I'm not sure what you're talking about, Miss.”

“You guys haven't spoken to me in months. I've called out to yall and got nothing back. And now you show up and want to play dress up?!” You whispered harshly. “You guys are sick.”

“I'm not entirely sure what to say. I'm not who you think I am,” he dissented. “I'm Colson Brock, not Colby, and I've never met that man on stage before in my life. But I am about to get an award from him so... if you could just stop talking to me, that would be for the best.”

You scoffed. “I swear to God, Colby-!”

You were cut off as Sam’s voice grew louder, “This award is given out to individuals that show inspiring traits and work countlessly day in and day out for us. The award for Best Dedication, Integrity, Creativity, and Knowledge goes to... Colson Brock!”

You scowled as Colby stood up, patting down his suit softly. He walked towards the stage, shooting you a smug look over his shoulder. He stepped on stage, shaking Sam's hand, and a photo was taken of the two of them holding the award.

You grabbed your purse, sneaking off to the bathroom quickly. You stumbled in, rushing to the sink and leaning against it. The bathroom was empty, just you alone. You breathed deeply, shaking your head.

That had to be Sam and Colby. There's no way that wasn't them.

But a part of you imagined, for just a moment, that maybe... it wasn't them. How could they have manipulated everyone into thinking they were real workers at this company? The CEO introduced Sam, or Samson. Colby's name, or Colson's name, was on the nametag and award.

You felt yourself flush at the thought. Oh my God, if that isn't Colby, that man out there thinks I'm absolutely insane. How the fuck am I supposed to go back to my table, sit there and eat an under seasoned chicken parm, and pretend I didn't just berate a man?

You groaned, bending down, and resting your head against the sink counter. Even when Sam and Colby weren't around, they still fucked with you.

You heard the bathroom door squeak open, your body jolting up. You didn't need another person thinking you were losing it.

Heavy footsteps crept into the bathroom, a man. A deep voice sighed, snickering lightly. You glanced up through the mirror, your eyes widening. Colby swayed in, leaning against the wall. His suit jacket was gone, now just in his button up and slacks. He rolled up his sleeves, running a hand through his hair.

“Surprise, Princess. Did ya miss us?” He teased.   

You glared, “What the fuck, Colby?”

“What?” He gestured outside the bathroom, “A bit too dramatic?”

“This is my livelihood! How dare you and Sam come and fuck this up for me!” You exclaimed, anger coursing through your veins.

“Relax, baby. We would never do anything too bad. No need to worry. Everyone will forget any of this happened. Honestly.” He put his hands up defensively. “This was all meant to be a bit of fun. We just wanted to get a rise out of you.”

“Well, you succeeded. Congratulations.” You retorted, crossing your arms.

“You should be congratulating me on my award. I have the best dedication, integrity, creativity, and knowledge.... D-I-C-K. Dick? Best dick, get it?” He bit his lip cockily, “Came up with it myself.”

“You're a fucking genius,” you deadpanned, rolling your eyes. “God, I knew I should have talked to Jess sooner.”

“Jess... why does that name sound familiar?” He questioned, feigning curiosity.

“She's the one that gave me the book that made the two of you.” You explained bitterly.

“Oh, she is? I'm gonna have write her a thank you card,” he winked. “But why exactly do you need to talk to her?”

“You two... I want you gone.” You admitted.

His face dropped, “What?”

You stepped up to Colby, getting in his face. “Aren't you tired of fucking around with me? Coming and going as you please? Why am I not allowed a normal life with a normal guy?!”

The lights flickered in the bathroom, Colby's eyes turning black for a split second, his horns visible. You shuttered, pressing yourself against the counter. The lights stopped flickering, and Colby was back to normal.

He cleared his throat, loosening his tie a bit. “Because... you're ours. You belong to us.”

“Fuck you.” You spat.

“You have... multiple times,” Colby pointed out in a snarky tone. “Even last year around this time, too.”

“Last Halloween?” You thought back, and a bunch of images started popping into your mind. Sam snapped Colby's neck but was also somehow terrorizing trick-or-treaters. Colby took control of your body but was also somehow dead while you and Sam fucked in your kitchen. It was all very confusing and didn't make quite sense.

“Wait, how the hell did you both fuck me and simultaneously not?” You puzzled, aggravated.

“I guess it just depends on what you picked.” Colby smirked, “Right, reader?”

“What are you talking about?” You replied.

“Don't worry about it.” He leaned against the counter next to you, “Back to what you were saying though. So, you want a normal guy so you can live a normal life... why? Isn't it more exciting to get fucked by a demon and a vampire?”

“Yeah, but there's more to life than sex.” You argued.

He feigned shock, “Take that back.”

You jeered, “You're extra fucking annoying, you know that?”

“And you clearly need the brattiness fucked out of you. But for some reason you don't want me or Sam to do it. Why? Did you have someone else in mind?” He took a couple steps, facing you again, “Like, say... Brian.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “How do you-“

He interjected. “I'm a demon. I know a lot of things. Not to mention I saw him and you eye-fucking each other by the bar. You're lucky I saw it and not Sam. Because Brian would be drained dry by now. Still probably will be.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, fine. I was eye-fucking Brian. And why am I not allowed to? Yall have been gone for months.”

“But you've been putting that toy of yours to such good use,” Colby taunted.

“You're an asshole.” You shot back.

“Thank you. I appreciate the love,” he smiled genuinely. “But I gotta ask, do you really think a man named 'Brian' can make you come like we can? Be honest with yourself on that.”

“That's not the only reason I want him,” you responded sassily. “Plus, he could be really good at sex.”

“Okay then. Let's find out.” Colby stomped over to the door, yelling out, "Brian! Get in here!"

You furrowed your brow, confused as to what Colby had up his sleeve. What the hell was he bringing Brian in here for?

Brian stepped in, glancing between the two of you. He had a dazed look on his face, clearly entranced.

“Colby, don-“ You started.

He cut you off again, “Look, princess. You wanted to know if he's a good fuck. So, I'm giving you the chance to find out. See what a normal fucking will bring to your life.”

“You can't force him to fuck me!” You fumed.

“I mean, I definitely could, but I'm not going to.” He turned to Brian, patting his shoulder, “Brian, my guy, do you want to fuck Y/N?”

Brian nodded. “Yes.”

“That's why you were buying her drinks tonight, right?” Colby asked.

“Yeah.” Brian’s voice was dull, almost like there were no thoughts behind his eyes.

“Such an honest man,” Colby commented. “Do you find her attractive?”

“Of course.” Brian agreed.

“Would you sleep with her if she said yes?” He continued.

Brian blinked, “Yes.”

Colby looked at you, “There we go. Happy?”

“I'm not fucking him in here, or in front of you.” You retorted, leaning back against the counter.

“Don't you want to prove me wrong? Don't you want to wipe the smug look off my face when he makes you come with his tongue? Or his totally, not average sized, dick?” Colby stepped up to you, his voice low, “The moment I walked in here, you got wet.”

A rush of blood came to your cheeks, your breath hitching.

“No amount of blushing can hide that deep down, you're a slut that wants to be fucked - pretty much - anywhere. And you're only giving me lip because we left you cold and alone for a couple months. I'm sorry about that. I truly wished I listened to your pleads...” he leaned in, kissing your cheek. “And cries...” he moved to the other cheek, giving it a quick kiss. “And screams,” he kissed your forehead gently. “Begging me to come fuck you. But absence makes the heart grow fonder. And this, right here, is my apology to you.”

You stood still, unsure what to do. Part of you did want to fuck Brian, just because you did find him hot. But with Colby standing next to him... it was no contest.

“Here. I'll sweeten the deal,” Colby offered. “If he makes you come, we'll leave. Forever.”

You froze, “Really?”

“No, probably not. The whole magical book kinda forbids that. But we will leave here, and you and Brian can go on your merry way and you two can go have beautifully... vanilla, sex.” He smiled dryly.

“Lucky for Brian, I'm already wet.” You quipped, glaring.

“Perfect. Brian, give the lady what she wants.” He gasped, “Ooh, can I choose what he does? Pleaseeeee?”

You blinked, giving the slightest nod.

“You are so generous.” Colby spun to him, “Brian, do you want to eat her out?”

“I would... but I don't do that.” Brian spoke monotone.

Colby’s face dropped, almost mimicking yours. “You don't give head? Sloppy toppy? None of that?”

“No.” Brian replied.

“This is the man you want, huh? Absolute loser,” Colby pointed at him, rolling his eyes. “Well, Brian, now you do. So, go crazy.”

Brian turned to you, a lustful look overcoming him. He dropped to his knees, crawling towards you. Your heart raced, watching his every move. His hands wrapped around your ankle, slowly kissing up your leg gently. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, your head falling back a bit.

Colby leaned against the wall, studying you. His face was blank, almost uninterested. You glared at him, trying to ignore his presence. He smiled, giving a little wave.

Brian nibbled on your inner thigh, his fingers stroking up and down the center of your underwear. He brushed against your clit, your knees almost buckling.

“You're wet, Y/N.” Brian hummed in awe.

“Yeah, that's what happens when you turn a woman on.” He leaned in, whispering to you, “Is he new around here or...?”

“Shut up, Colby!” You groaned. “Keep going Brian, please. I need you.”

“Don't take it too personally, Brian. She says that to everyone. Especially me.” Colby grinned.

“Drop dead.” You hissed.

He remarked, “I'm not really alive so...”

Brian pulled down your underwear, letting them fall down your legs and to the floor. The cool air hit your hot sex, making your body tense up. Brian leaned in, his mouth connecting with your clit.

You closed your eyes tightly, allowing the sensation of his tongue to arouse you more. It was a slow build, that was for sure. Nothing like Sam and Colby and the way they did things. But it was still nice.

But maybe not what you needed.

You placed your hand on the back of Brian's head, pushing him more into your heat. He grunted, the vibrations feeling fantastic against your clit. You amped up your moans, hoping it was believable to Colby.

He yawned, gazing at you bored. You shook your head, deciding to ignore Colby. You were determined to come, to make them leave. But Brian was not helping you, which was upsetting.

“Brian, baby... go a little faster please.” You begged, annoyed.

He nodded, moving his tongue hastily. You could feel the pleasure build more, but it was still a long way away from being close to an orgasm. He slid a finger in, pumping in and out sloppily. You groaned, feeling even less turned on suddenly.

“I guess I know why you don't give head.” Colby swatted at Brian, “Move.”

Your eyes widened, “What? No! Brian, st-”

“I know you want to come so we leave, but that ain't gonna happen with Brian over here.” Colby mentioned.

"Well, maybe he could fuck me!" You argued, gesturing to his dick.

“But I'm not hard.” Brian stated.

Colby raised an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Eating pussy isn't really a turn on for me.” Brian informed.

“God, Y/N, you really know how to pick them.” Colby pulled him up by his arm, smiling sinisterly. “Brian, why don't you leave and go find Sam? I think he can teach you a valuable lesson on what happens to men that don't please their women.”

Brian turned and left, not saying another word. You huffed, glaring harshly at Colby. “Your little glares aren't going to do anything to me, sweetheart. If anything, they just make me hard.”

Colby's hand slid down and cupped your sex, palming your clit gingerly. You gasped, back arching as you pressed yourself against the counter. Colby barricaded you in, his hand beginning to make small circles on your clit.

“This is how a man fucks a woman like you.” He uttered, staring at you intensely.

“But you're not eating me out.” You challenged.

Colby cocked his head. “If you wanted my tongue, you could have just asked.”

You suddenly felt a tongue licking at your entrance, your body shuttering in ecstasy. “Fuck, h-how-?”

"Did you forget I have abilities? Is it because the horns aren't here?" The lights flickered, and when they turned back on, his horns were out. “How about now? Do you remember what I am now?”

"Yeaahhh, I remember." You whined, your head falling back in pleasure.

“You are so sexy when you get close to coming. God, it makes me hard just thinking about it.” Colby pushed his clothed, growing dick against your thigh, “Do you feel me?”

You nodded mindlessly, your hands gripping his forearms.

“Princess?” He asked innocently.

“Uh-huh?" You murmured.

“I think that's enough for you." All the sensations stopped, Colby pulling away from you.

“Wha-? No. No! Colby, please.” You grumbled.

He asserted, “It's time for you to be punished.”  

“What did I do?” You questioned, your mouth a gape.

"I'm sorry, was Brian that forgetful or do you like playing dumb?" Colby spun you around, making you face the mirror. He rolled your dress up a bit, pressing his bulge against your bare ass. "Here's what's going to happen. I'm gonna start fucking you, and you have to remain quiet. Just like you were with Brian."

You lowered your voice, “Why do I have to be silent?”

“Because otherwise, you'll get caught.” He whispered cheekily.

The door busted open, and a gaggle of women came in, chit chatting like there wasn't a demon about to fuck you right against the sink.

You gulped; your voice even quieter. “What the fuck, Colby?!”

"Don't worry, princess. If you remain silent, they won't see you. But once you make a single noise, they'll know. They'll know that you are a dirty slut that likes to get fucked in the bathroom. That you're so desperate for dick that you'd let a demon fuck you. And a vampire." He tsked sassily, "Double greedy."

Colby unbuttoned his pants, giving your ass a slap as his cock sprang free. You bit your lip, holding back a gasp.

"You ready for me, baby?" He lined himself up with your entrance, sliding along your lips. Then finally, he glided his cock in.

You trembled from the sensations, direly wanting to moan along with him. But you didn't want to get caught. Being fucked while others were around, whether they could see you or not, was embarrassing enough.

But also incredibly thrilling.

Colby thrusted deeply, his cock hitting the right spot over and over again. You felt overwhelmed, but in the best way. Your body already felt like it was building rapidly, your legs shaking under your weight. You felt like your skin was on fire, burning against the cool air.

A lady walked up to the sink next to you, washing her hands and looking at herself in the mirror. You shuttered out a breath, Colby picking up his pace.

“Don't look at her, Y/N. Look at yourself in the mirror. Watch yourself get fucked.” He commanded breathlessly.

You turned your head, staring straight. He smirked at you in the mirror, keeping his pace the same while lazily pulling off his tie.

"This is what you deserve, sweetheart. You're such a slut for me." He yanked your hands behind your back, tying them easily with his tie. He gripped your connected hands, bucking his hips harder and faster now.

Your body buzzed erotically, your hips gyrating in time with Colby's. You could feel your edge building; all you had to do was stay quiet.

Colby slid one hand down between your legs, finding your swollen clit instantly. He rubbed it faster than his thrusts, causing your whole body to jolt. You sucked in a harsh breath, knowing you shouldn't have. But God... the sensation was too much for you to stay quiet.

The women in the bathroom looked around, confused.

"Baby, do you want to get caught or something? Because you are being awfully loud. Maybe you need something in your mouth to quiet you down." He snaked his other hand up towards your face, his two fingers rubbing along your lips. You parted your mouth, allowing his fingers inside.

He cursed, “That's fucking it baby. Be a good girl and suck them for me.”

You sucked his fingers like your life depended on it. He finger-fucked your mouth in time with his dick, both speeding up as the minutes passed. You could feel yourself getting close, knowing that your orgasm was imminent.

“It's been too long since the last time you sucked my cock.” He chuckled darkly, “Maybe later you do that for me. Wouldn't you want that, princess?”

You nodded desperately, bucking your hips wildly against his cock and hands. You were about to explode, your edge hitting its peak. This is all you wanted for the last couple months: to be fucked hard and well. And that's what Colby was doing.

“You almost ready to come? Build up baby. Suck my fingers dry. Suck them like you would my dick.” You took his fingers deeper, gagging around them. You pumped yourself on his cock, whimpering. "There you go, baby. What a good girl." Colby leaned in, his horns grazing your cheek as he uttered, "My good girl... Come for me."

Your body spasmed around Colby's cock, bouncing on it helplessly. You moaned loudly around his fingers, not caring if anyone heard. You had been so focused on staring in the mirror at yourself getting fucked that didn't see that you and Colby were all alone in the bathroom once more. His eyes bore at you in the mirror, flashing to black.

Relaxing your hips, his cock pulled out of you for a moment, letting you relax. You felt your juices run down your inner thigh, your body still running high. You leaned down, placing your head against the counter as you took some deep breaths.

“Hi there, baby girl. “A familiar voice came from behind you, but it wasn't Colby's. You looked up quickly, Sam now behind you, and Colby was nowhere to be seen. Sam waved back at you in the mirror, smirking. "You ready for me now?"

“W-Where is Colby?” You stuttered, your pussy twitching at the thought of Sam's hard cock.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about him. He'll be back soon enough." Sam traced a finger along your sex, gasping. "God baby, you are so wet. Completely soaking yourself."

He took his finger into his mouth, tasting you. "Fuck, I missed that."

Your mouth hung open, watching him through lustful eyes. His hand snaked around to the front of your body, grabbing your neck firmly. He pulled you flush against his partially exposed body, his cock hard against your ass. "We give you everything you could ask for, and you still wanted someone like Brian? How pathetic."

He forced your head to look at yourself in the mirror, "You are a desperate slut just begging to be fucked. But we're the only ones that can make you feel this good."

Sam slammed his hips into yours, his cock taking you deeply. You grunted loudly, eyes rolling back into your head. He took advantage of your still tied up hands, holding them tightly. His other hand raced up your back, lowering you down to the sink. He placed you flat against the counter, fucking you harshly. You shook with each of his thrusts, mewling at every in and out.

“You think you get to choose who fucks you now? You think you can move on from us?” He fumed, his cocking hitting your spot repeatedly.

You panted, “Noooo.”

“There is no one other than us. Let me make that abundantly clear: you're ours.” Sam's fangs sunk into your skin, your eyes widening. He continued to bite you all over, barely drawing any blood, but marking you; letting everyone know you were taken.

Your second orgasm was close. You needed this second one badly, itching to come sooner rather than later. You could feel how desperate and hot and slutty it was turning you.

“Baby girl, do you deserve to come? Have you been good?” Sam questioned.

You nodded, your whole body shaking, “Yessss. Yes I have. Please Sam! Please!”

He pulled you up again, locking eyes with you in the mirror. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing tightly. “Ride my dick, baby. Make yourself come on my dick.”

You uncontrollably bucked your hips, whining on his cock. His hold on your neck tightened just enough, making it hard to breath and your vision blurring. The lack of oxygen made your orgasm hit twice as hard. You soaked his member, moving mindlessly on it until you finally finished. Your legs gave out a bit, Sam catching you. He snickered, his red eyes taking you in through the mirror.

The doors to the bathroom busted open again, a random lady coming in. She turned and looked at the two of you, not even acknowledging what she had to be seeing. "Y/N, you need to come out there quick."

You were taken aback by this woman, unsure of who she was or what the hell she wanted you for. "W-what are you talking about?" You rushed, shimmying your dress down, trying to cover yourself back up.

“They're calling your name. You won an award!” She exclaimed, leaving the bathroom happily.

You furrowed your brow, turning to Sam. But he was gone. Those powers of their really do come in handy for moments like these.

You shuffled out of the bathroom, even more confused as you glanced around at everyone from your company. They were all looking at you, smiling brightly and being congratulatory. You walked towards the stage, the people directing you, and as you got closer, you saw Sam and Colby on it, holding a plaque of some sort.

Sam pulled you on stage, kissing your cheek sweetly. Colby handed you the award, shaking your hand dramatically. You took the award in your hand, turning it to see what it said.

“Give it up for Y/N everyone. The biggest slut of the year!” Sam yelled into the microphone. “Congratulations baby, you deserve it.”  

You gawked at Sam and Colby, the reality of what they did hitting you. You threw the award on the ground, glaring at them harshly.

“Hey now, we worked really hard on that.” Sam pouted.

“Fuck you, how dare you make me a fool in front of everyone!” You ranted, getting in their faces.

"Princess, no one is gonna remember this. And luckily, no one will remember this either." Colby smiled devilishly.

Sam and Colby grabbed at your dress, tearing it off your body like it was made of cheap fabric. The crowd cheered, your body heating up immediately as you were suddenly naked in front of everyone.

“Now, don't argue with us, plaything. You can bitch and moan all you want to but being fucked in front of everyone... turns you on.” Colby wrapped his arms around you, whispering in your ear, “No matter how much you want to deny it, you can't deny how drenched you are right now.”

Your body quivered as Colby's fingers slipped easily into your cunt. You fell back against him; his suddenly naked body cool against your hot skin. Sam sauntered up to you, rubbing his hands up and down your torso. His hands kneaded your breasts, nipples aching to be touched.

Sam laughed, “Look at her, Colby. She can't even argue with us. She knows that we're right. She is the biggest slut of the year. She's our slut, our toy, our plaything. Ours. Forever.”

The room erupted in applause, some even screaming out your name.

“Let's give them a show, princess,” Colby gestured to the eager crowd. Let the people see the real slut you are. Isn’t that what you want? To be fucked in front of everyone.”

You couldn't think anymore. Every sensation was overpowering your thoughts. You knew deep down that Sam and Colby were right, and all you could think of was how badly you wanted to come again.

You nodded feverishly, your hands automatically pawing at both of their bodies. The air around you changed once you said yes, your body being positioned graphically. Forced down onto your knees, Colby stood in front of you, while Sam was behind you.

“Aww, baby. Look, it's your favorite positions: on your hands and knees, getting railed by us.” Sam jested playfully.

Your sex throbbed, direly needing them inside of you. You whined, looking up at Colby. “Please, just fuck me. No more teasing.”

Colby stared into your eyes, jerking himself off right in front of your face. “You want this, huh? You want me in your mouth. Say it.”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I want you in my mouth.”

“And what about me, toy?” Sam slapped your ass, making you look back at him.

“Fuck, I need it. I need the both of you so bad!” You cried, grinding your hips back against Sam.

Hoots and hollers sounded off around the room. You glanced at the crowd, their hungry eyes taking your desperate form in.

“Fine then, since you asked so nicely,” Colby cupped your face, turning your head back to his cock. The tip pushed against your mouth, sliding in easily. He moaned lowly, almost animalistically. Sam teased his cock along your entrance, slipping in effortlessly.

Once they were in you, you sighed deeply. It felt so good to be surrounded by Sam and Colby, to be filled by them. They had you right where they wanted you, and you loved every second of it.

And the crowd seemed to love it even more.

They started off slow, taking their time to build your pleasure up. There was nothing else on your mind. All you could think about was their cock and how much you wanted them to come deep inside of you.

Colby gaped, “Oh princess, you have the filthiest mind. Maybe even dirtier than ours.”

“That's why she's our slut. We are just innocent people being used by this whore of a woman,” Sam shuttered, lulling his head back as he fucked you. “And God, I love every second of it.”

“I could fuck this mouth for hours. How does that sound, sweetheart? You love that idea, don't you?” Colby breathed, biting his lip, staring down at you.

You nodded enthusiastically, taking his shaft deeper. He grunted, hips twitching. His hand rested on your head lightly, pulling your hair softly. His grip tightened, causing you to gag around him.

Sam cursed, “Fuuuuck, she clenched around me when gagged. Keep doing that, baby girl. That felt so good.”

“Y/N, how can you get all of this, all of us, and still want something else? Especially Brian. What a fucking loser.” Colby groaned, disgusted.

Sam agreed, grimacing. “Dude didn't even know how to eat pussy. He didn't even like eating pussy.”

The crowd booed, screaming expletives at the sound of Brian's name.

“See, everyone knows that Brian sucks. How could you ever settle for something like that when you have the best right here?” Sam inquired. “Two men willing to do anything to make you come.”

"Let me make this perfectly clear, darling," Colby pulled himself out of you, raising you up so you were eye level with him. He held your face firmly, his voice low and calm. “While I'm never the type to get jealous, and watching you get eaten out by that joke of a man was entertaining and kinda sexy, let me be honest with you.”

His face dropped, his eyes darkening with each word. "If you ever go after another man again, I will personally make sure to rip his heart out in front of you, and then I’ll breed your cunt so deeply you will feel me for days. Because there is no one else for you, princess. Just. Us. Forever. That means for eternity, you are ours. You are mine."

Sam yanked your hair, pulling you out of Colby's grip for a moment. He grunted harshly, "That goes for me too, baby girl. If you ever even breathe near another man again, I might have to drain your sexy little body dry and turn you into our immortal plaything for forever. And don't think for a second I'm bluffing."

Colby took you by the neck, pulling you back towards him, choking you lightly. All the while, Sam was still fucking you. "There is no escaping us, Y/N. We will never let you go. No matter what you do for the rest of your life, we will always be there, in the shadows, watching. We own you. And nothing will change that."

His face relaxed, going back into his casual, smug look. "So... in the meantime, enjoy yourself, princess. And open your mouth again."

He pushed you down, his cock still hard and leaking, ready to fuck your mouth. Their words sank deeply into your mind, arousing and frightening you all at the same time.

Colby thrusted himself back in, gagging you. “There you go, baby. But now, I think it's time we give the people what they want. Right, everybody?!”

The room screamed in approval, lustful energy shooting through you from the sound. Suddenly, Sam and Colby began fucking you passionately, the sheer brutal force alone bouncing you back and forth on their cocks. You whined around them, feeling yourself get lost in the feeling of being their toy.

Sam groaned a breathy sound, “God, you're basically just a fleshlight, Y/N. Don't you love being used by us?”

“You know she does, Sam. Just a set of holes for us to use.” Colby’s voice was husky and low, “God, her mouth feels incredible.”

“She's so pathetic, really. She squeezed around me so tightly when we called her names. Maybe we should do that more often.” Sam taunted.

“Of course. There are so many more names we could come up with for her. But right now, all I'm concerned about is coming down her throat and fucking her until she chokes.” Colby's hips sped up as he face-fucked you. You didn't even have time to react, your jaw becoming slack and just allowing him to take over and use it like a toy. Tears welled up and rolled down your cheeks and drool dribbled down your chin from his harsh actions.

Sam's hand went between your bodies, rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. Your thighs shook from the feeling, the pleasure overwhelming.

“You're so close, aren't you, princess?” Colby panted.

Sam chimed in; his voice depraved. “Build up for us. Come with us, baby girl.”

They pounded into you in unison, almost taking the breath out of you with each thrust. The room began getting louder, chants of "Come for us" came from the crowd, building up in time with your orgasm.

Every part of this was spectacular and you couldn't get enough.

Your breathing hitched as your orgasm hit the edge, ready to fall over once they said you could. Sam and Colby kept going, kept using you, until they were ready. You begged them to let you come, your pleas muffled by Colby’s cock. Both thrusted with abandonment, needing to come just as badly as you.

Colby grunted, pulling your hair, “Fuck, fuck! Y/N, come! Come for us now!”

“Do it baby! That's fucking it, YES!” Sam growled, his fingers bruising your hips as he held them tightly.

All three of you exploded in euphoric pleasure, bellowing out in ecstasy. The crowd roared as Sam and Colby filled you up with their cum. You released around Sam's cock, soaking him. You swallowed as much of Colby's cum as you could, gagging as he hit the back of your throat repeatedly until finally slowing his hips down. Sam slammed inside of you once more, grunting out a strained cry. Your body was spent, exhausted from being fucked so many times. You felt yourself black out, unable to stay awake a moment longer.

When you came to, you were in your hotel room, inside the same hotel the event had taken place at. You felt sore everywhere, knowing that wasn’t a dream. You sighed happily, snuggling into bed. You noticed a note on the side of your pillow. You picked it up, reading it quickly.

Ours.

- Sam and Colby

<< Part 3B ||

[zoloteh-volossya]

Some Thoughts on Minthara

A repeating theme of all of the Origin companions is that what they think they want at the beginning of the game is a result of their fucked up pasts and is ultimately bad for them. Shadowheart wants to be a DJ, but that cuts her off from the potential to grow beyond Shar and loss. Lae'zel wants to Ascend, which would obliterate her in her entirety. Karlach would rather die than go back to hell, but dying cuts off the potential continued life she may find thanks to that Infernal Forge. Astarion wants to Ascend, which locks him into a cycle of violence, power, and fear. Gale has two failures of goals - first to kill himself for Mystra's forgiveness, then to Ascend (which hollows him out of all the originally noble intentions he had going into it). Wyll wants to serve, no matter what the cost to himself - which would lead him to stay pacted to Mizora when freedom beckons.

All of these initial goals stem from the environments/abuses that the companions are coming from. And they're all understandable! But they're unhealthy and/or maladaptive, and so in order for every Origin companion to get to their best/happiest ending they need to change and grow away from what they initially thought they wanted due to the influence of their pasts and personal flaws.

Minthara, when we meet her under her own free will, has abandoned Lolth but not her attitudes. She seeks love, yes, but also seeks any sort of power she can get her hands on with a desperation borne of fear. She cares deeply for Karlach and Lae'zel and reluctantly for Astarion, Shart, and Gale, but is willing to enslave them all as she herself was enslaved if it makes her Top Dog. Her ideal ending is codependent evil power couple with you, controlling the brain - and I think that's her 'bad' ending, akin to Ascended Astarion or DJ Shart.

Basically, I think there’s two sides to her. There's the side that desires genuine connections and is willing to go to hell for Karlach even if unromanced... and the side that chases power even if it means doing things like enslaving Karlach. She wants purpose (per her dialogue upon leaving Moonrise), a home and friends (per her dialogue when leaving the party), and protection (per her dialogues with the player). I think if she was able to obtain those things through sources other than trying to conquer Menzoberranzan/the Sword Coast she might be able to express the former side of herself more.

We see a bit of that in her Karlach romance, where she throws aside all concerns of seeking power to go to hell for her girlfriend. She doesn't talk of conquering or ruling Avernus - her focus is purely on vengeance for Karlach. It's an interesting reevaluation of her priorities and also why I like her pairing with Karlach so much.

As a side character, she doesn't get a questline and arc like the Origin companions get. But I think that it is notable that her happiest ending seems to be staying in Baldur's Gate. In her epilogue dialogue with Origin!Lae'zel she confesses that she is not happy if she pursues reconquering Menzoberranzan, and harbors doubts about her ability to succeed.

Because ultimately - as Ascended Astarion shows - pursuing power and conquest does not actually make you happier or safer. It just means a life dominated by fear. Lolth's treatment of the drow - and thus the drow treatment of each other - has been compared by writers of canon D&D novels to an abusive relationship. And like so many other survivors of abuse, Minthy is out of the immediate situation but still carries that way of thinking worn into her psyche, like ruts in a road.

She’ll never be “nice” or even necessarily “good,” but I’d like to think that over time, in the right environment, she can leave behind most of the self destructive power seeking of the Lolthite mindset. Move on from the toxic patterns of her past, as the Origin companions get to do in game.

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

First of all, very in love with the digital reader fic you put out <3

But since reader expressed not knowing why they were in hell I just couldn't help myself from thinking about this-

Reader: I don't even know why I'm here, the hell did I ever do?

Lucifer: Didn't you crash over half of all the systems on earth when you were alive?

Reader: That was an accident! I was only trying to crash like...ten!

Just a goofy thought that popped into my head- destructive characters that are chaotic on accident my beloved lmao-

Kisses darling <3

-📽

Sweet silly little Lucifer with his ducks. I feel like everyone thinks he's completely aware of everything happening in Hell at all times. Meanwhile, he's just making ducks and missing his daughter and can't remember the last time he ate.

Digital Pet [Vox x Reader, but this is a Lucifer interaction]

What Do You Mean You Don't Know

You'd been surfing through the digital plane like any other day. Vox had his schedule completely full, so you were on your own the pass the time. You hopped between windows that led into various devices all around Hell.

It was hard to tell where you were most of the time, but a part of you was convinced that you could slip into the devices of demons outside the Pride Ring. You'd once seen hellhounds and succubi at a party when you'd peeked into a large screen behind a DJ on stage. The large venue was covered in honeycombs and you saw some sort of lava lamp-looking furry doing shots in the middle of the energized crowd. While the aesthetic was similar enough to what you'd seen in the sinner's little slice of Hell, it felt... different.

It was precious information you decided to hold close to your chest. Maybe you'd tell Vox one day but from everything you'd seen about his power-hungry reputation, you decided it may be best not to play your card too soon. For all you know, it was just an exclusive club with different vibes. It wasn't unheard of for demons from the other rings to come to the clubs in Pride.

You were floating through an endless hall of screens and lights, looking between the different windows into the world you couldn't hope to touch when you saw a face that made you double-take.

"Is that..." You float back and gasp as you get a closer look that confirms your suspicions. "Oh, you motherfucker!"

Lucifer let out a startled yelp, dropping the duck he'd been painting as he fell out of his chair. He'd just been minding his own business, listening to some light jazz while he made duckie replicas of his daughter and all her little friends at the hotel when a loud voice suddenly blasted over the music on his laptop.

He frowned as he looked down and saw his white pants splatted with the fresh red paint of Alastor's duck. He was on his ninth attempt at replicating the cocky jerk and had finally been on the verge of getting his stupid grin right when you startled him.

"Oh great," Lucifer grumbled as he pulled himself off of the ground. "It's already bad enough I have a growing pile of ducks dedicated to this prick, now he's ruining my clothes too."

Lucifer leaned over his desk, trying to see what sort of pop-up advertisement or virus had gotten on his system when he suddenly saw you watching him with crossed arms. Your small form glared at him from where you sat atop of his video player.

"A sinner...?" Lucifer blinked slowly before looking at you in awe. He could see your soul and recognized you as a person immediately. "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

"You tell me!" you point at him angrily. "You're the guy in charge of this shit, aren't you? What did I ever do to you?! I didn't do anything to deserve a worse Hell than everyone else."

"How should I know?" Lucifer squawked as he threw up his arms in defense... "I haven't gone outside in... wait, what day is it?"

"How do you not know?" You ask, the two of you amping each other up in your confusion. "You're Lucifer! This is literally your entire thing!"

"Uh, excuse you," Lucifer tsked as he placed a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know I am a man of ducks and dadness. Not keeping track of every soul that drops into Hell. Do you have any idea just how many of you die a day? A lot. Too many. Just. Please get better at staying alive, I beg you."

You deadpan at him before shaking your head with a sigh. "Well, do you at least know how to get me out of the digital plane? I'd like to actually eat food or let my feet touch the ground o-or sleep in a bed!"

"Uhh," Lucifer laughed nervously. "Yeaaaah, no. Nope. Sorry uh, no. Technology isn't something I really know anything about. I'd love to help but uh, yeah... no."

You groan, obviously disappointed in his answer as you flop over to the side and let your frustration win in the moment. You run a hand down your face and look up at the great devil of Hell with a sigh.

"Do you at least have any idea why I'm in Hell and not Heaven?"

Lucifer hummed, squinting at you as he ran a history check on your soul. It took a lot longer to find a reason than he expected, but then he finally landed on it.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered. "Looks like you ate the last slice of birthday cake in the fridge back in your college days."

Your jaw drops, for a couple of reasons. The top reason should have been that such a little thing damned your soul for eternity. However, your priorities were a bit skewed. Which became transparently obvious as you exclaimed, "Excuse me?! It was MY birthday cake!"

"Yeah, but they called dibs," Lucifer shook his head with a sigh. "Heaven takes dibs very seriously. And as you should know by now, I don't make the rules."

The powerful demon grumbled like a child as you recovered from the absolute bullshit that was your afterlife. It wasn't until you'd sat back up that you looked past Lucifer and finally noticed his room.

"Why the fuck are there so many ducks?"