#and upon finding out i can only poly certain people by gods i am picking him over anyone else

[harlequinqueen]

oh i have such severe BG3 brainrot. specifically Astarion, but that'd surprise literally noone who knows me

[ilici]

pay the consequence.

Summary: Y/N has been a brat all day while Sapnap, Dream, and George have been streaming. Once they get off and go to punish her, she quickly hides and once they find her she pays the consequences.

Request by: @gogywasfound​

NSFW MINORS DNI !!

Warnings: Choking, cockwarming, thigh riding, orgasm denial, oral (receiving & giving), hair pulling, size kink, and spanking.

Word Count: 2554

Y/N was now straddling Sapnap’s lap as he was streaming with his other two boyfriends, or to the world, friends. Sapnap agreed to let her stay on his lap if she was good, and she agreed. What he didn’t know is that she had already got kicked off of Dream’s lap for grinding against him. “I am streaming with 60k people watching, make one peep or even start something you’re off.” He told her, with his mic muted to both George and Dream, along with his stream. “Yes sir.” She whispered resting her head on his shoulder, playing with his now shorter hair. “How was your time with Karl?” She asked him quietly so the mic wouldn’t pick up, and he sighed muting his mic, “It was good, now quiet.” He told her, giving her hip a soft warning tap. Nodding, she stuck to just playing with his hair, and the hood that was connected to his hoodie. After a short moment of silence, besides Sapnap’s talking and the sound of his keyboard, she easily grew bored.

She let out a sigh, that Sapnap easily ignored, or he either couldn’t hear over George’s constant scream of fear. Tapping his shoulder trying to get his attention, he finally gave her two taps on the hip that indicated, ‘I’m listening’ and she smiled at that. Slowly she moved her hips around, acting as if she was trying to get comfortable, but in reality she was trying to make him hard. Sapnap froze as he felt himself growing hard, so he instantly tapped her hip warning her to stay still. Y/N on the other hand, pouted at this. She stilled her movement, but soon grinned when she felt his bulge against her inner left thigh. Sneakily she moved one of her hands from his shoulder, down in between her thighs. Sapnap’s breath hitched when he felt her hand palming him through his sweatpants, and soon leaned his head back at the sensation. Y/N smiled at his reaction, and continued palming him, before she was suddenly on the ground of his streaming room.

“Ow.” She whispered, and Sapnap muted his mic, before looking down at her, shifting around trying to hide his very obvious hard on. “I told you, and you disobeyed. My lap is off limits, and you’re getting punished once I am done streaming.” He told her, and Y/N whined before she got up walking away and to her last victim: George. This one was going to be tricky for her, as he had his facecam on. The world didn’t know they were all in a poly relationship, nor did the fans know they had a girlfriend. Thinking of what to do, she bit her lip in thought as she made her way downstairs to his streaming room. Thankfully his camera was pointed directly at the wall behind him, and not the door that was to the right of him. Slowly opening the door, praying it wouldn’t creek upon opening, George’s attention was now to the right of him as Y/N entered. Giving him a small wave, he gave her a gentle smile.

Muting his mic quickly, “Hey bubs.” He said, and Y/N smiled happily at the nickname, “Hi baby.” She replied back, crawling over towards him, sitting down beside him, out of view of the camera. “Can I stay in here?” She asked him and George nodded, “Of course, just don’t pop up or that would be a very long story.” He joked, and Y/N quietly giggled as she looked around his oddly plain streaming room. It was different from the other two, it lacked color. It was a dim grey, and had black decor. “Sorry guys, my cat got in and I had to tell him to go.” George smoothly lied, and laughed as the chat started spamming ‘cat reveal’. “Sorry guys, he already left, maybe next time.” He said, as he moved his hand over, out of camera view under his desk patting Y/N’s head ruffling her hair. Y/N just slapped at his hand, and planned on teasing him soon. She planned on being more cruel to him, mainly because she couldn’t just simply get on his lap like the other two.

Crawling under his desk, and in front of him, she was now settled between his legs. George threw her a confused glance, but didn’t think anything of it as she has done this before. Y/N sat there for a couple minutes, to not make herself seem suspicious, and finally she crept her hand up his leg playfully scratching his thigh through his pajama bottoms. George jumped slightly at this, and scrambled for an excuse, “I got a cold chill.” He explained, and Y/N could hear the muffled voices of her boyfriends, making sexual jokes about George’s “cold chill”. “Shut up, it’s cold in this house.” He said in defense, slapping at her hand. Y/N slapped his hand back, and he retracted it to continue playing Minecraft. Taking this as her chance, she lifted her other hand up, tugging on his pajama pants. George looked down at her with disapproval before he finally broke at the sight of her silent pleading. Raising up a bit, Y/N instantly tugged his pajama bottoms and boxers off.

George silently hissed as the cold air hit his now bare cock, and Y/N looked up at him grinning. Reaching back up, she grabbed the base of his cock, looking up at his face to see his reaction since he was the overly sensitive one. George bit his lip, quickly tipping his head back before stopping himself, holding back a breath of shaky air that wanted to escape. Watching as his cock grew harder by the minute, she leaned up licking a long stride up his cock, and he instantly shivered letting the shaky air escape his lips. Slowly, she wrapped her lips around his tip, and George muted his mic abruptly, leaning his head back letting a low moan out. He knew people were going to clip the video of him doing it, but he didn’t care in this moment. Y/N soon started bobbing her head once he was fully erect, gagging every now and then. George had now unmuted his mic, and was holding everything in him not to be vocal.

Soon George looked down and locked eyes with Y/N, her E/C looked innocent as his cock was settled in her mouth, and he almost came at the sight. If only Y/N wouldn't have pulled away, he would have right then and there. George held back a groan at the loss of warmth and pleasure, as he took glances every now and then to her, to not try and seem suspicious of just staring down under his desk. Y/N who was wiping away the drool on her face, quickly crawled away leaving her boyfriend behind half naked and rock hard. He instantly grew infuriated, and the ‘let’s play the guess where Dream is game’ comments didn’t help at all. He was going to punish her to no end, and he wouldn't regret a thing. Y/N was now laying on the couch, watching tv, when she heard movement from down the hall and upstairs. She froze, and soon she was panicking as she now had three horny angry men after her. 

Her first instinct was to just freeze, and finally it settled in and she bolted off the couch. She quickly ran into the kitchen, thankful she was wearing socks so her hurried footsteps were quiet against the hardwood flooring. Opening up one of the cabinets that she could fit in, she rushed into it trying to be as quiet as she possibly could. Closing the cabinet door, she heard the three meet up in the living room. “Have you seen Y/N? “Either of you seen N/N?” “Where’s Y/N?” The three spoke at the same time annoyance laced in their voices. The three threw each other confused glances, before Dream sighed, “She went to you two too didn’t she?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose, and Sapnap nodded while George cursed under his breath. “The damn brat practically gave me blue balls from not finishing the blow job.” George said, while Sapnap and Dream looked at him smirking.

“So it wasn’t cold, was it?” Sapnap said, and George just hit the back of his head, “Focus you idiot. Y/N obviously was being a brat, and she needs to be punished. We just have to find her.” George said, and Sapnap frowned rubbing the back of his head. “She was obviously watching tv.” Dream pointed out, as the covers were thrown on the floor, and the tv was still on. “So she couldn't have gone upstairs, nor down the hallway, so she is around here.” George concluded, and Sapnap looked around, “Y/N if you come out now you will not be punished!” Sapnap yelled, and there was no sign of Y/N coming out. “Well she’s either in here, the kitchen, bathroom, movie room, or outside. Last option is doubtful since the door is still locked.” Dream said, and they soon decided to break off and look for her. Not without a bet of $100 on the line, the idea from Sapnap. Dream walked around the movie room, looking under every possible thing he could.

Sapnap wandered around the living room and bathroom that connected to it. George was now walking around in the kitchen, trying to think of any hiding place. Looking behind the door, he groaned and the three were about to give up until George remembered a certain spot. “God we are so stupid!” He whispered to them, “We missed the first place she hid when we first moved in here.” He whispered to them, and the three were now pushing each other as they scrambled to the cabinets. Finally Dream was now opening the cabinet door, locking eyes with his girlfriend who nervously waved, “Hi baby..” She whispered, and Dream smirked, gently pulling her out of the small area. “Hello baby.” Dream said back, and Y/N nervously giggled, as she was now being carried to the bedroom. “I’m sorry.” She quickly said, as she held onto Dream looking up at Sapnap and George. Sapnap just shook his head, and George grabbed her face scoffing, “Brat’s aren’t sorry.”

Whimpering she yelped as she felt the impact of being thrown on the bed, “Undress now.” Sapnap demanded, and Y/N quickly stripped of the hoodie she was wearing, and sleeping shorts. “Everything.” Dream spoke up, and Y/N reluctantly took off her bra and underwear, leaving her bare. Soon after, the other three were now naked, and Sapnap got on the bed, picking Y/N up placing her on his lap. “No movements what so ever, got it?” He whispered in her ear, and Y/N shivered at the tone of his voice nodding. Slowly he entered in her, letting her cockwarm him. He moved back, bringing Y/N with him, as he leaned against the headboard, getting comfortable as Y/N was dying to move for sensation. “Look how small you are compared to Sapnap. God I would absolutely destroy you if I could.” Dream said, feeling himself get even more turned on from how small she looked on Sapnap’s lap.

George got up on the bed, as he stood up, using the headboard as balance. “Open.” He said, and Y/N opened her mouth, gagging instantly once George thrusted into her mouth. Sapnap held her hips still, as he noticed she tried to make subtle movement for friction, and soon Dream crawled onto the bed enjoying the sight of George face fucking Y/N as she cockwarmed Sapnap. “God this is my favorite sight ever.” He groaned out, as George quickly came inside Y/N’s mouth. Pulling out, Y/N coughed wiping the cum off of her face that managed to escape and trail down her chin. As soon as she was about to get her breath back completely, she felt a stinging sensation go through her skull as Sapnap pulled her hair back roughly, wrapping his free hand around her throat. “Not a sound from you.” He whispered into her ear, licking the shell of it. Nodding her head, she breathed heavily once his grip from her neck was gone.

Soon, she was able to raise her head back up as he let go of the death grip on her hair. Sapnap lifted her up off his cock, after a good moment of cockwarming. Y/N was roughly pulled over and slammed down on the bed, another hand clasped around her throat. “Hi baby.” Dream said, smirking as he used his other hand to trail down her body, playfully rubbing her clit. Y/N almost moaned, but was stopped when she remembered what Sapnap told her. “Such a good girl.” George spoke up from beside of her, as he caressed her cheek. Dream let go of her neck, as he licked his way down her body finally making contact with her clit. Arching her back, she bit her bottom lip roughly, as Dream started roughly eating her out like she was his last meal. George, held her hand, reminding her not to make a sound, and Y/N curled her toes as Dream sucked harshly on her clit.

Feeling herself growing close, Dream quickly pulled away and Y/N whined, which made the three men glare. “What did Sapnap say?” George said, and Y/N was now flipped over by Dream, her ass up in the air. Sapnap came over, and slammed a hand down on her ass, before he repeated this action a couple more times leaving both of her ass cheeks bright red. Y/N was now in tears from the feeling, while Dream rubbed her ass soothingly. “Are you ready?” Sapnap asked, as he pulled her back, letting her sit on Dream’s cock as he entered from behind with some lube. George watched, enjoying the beautiful scene in front of him, as Sapnap and Dream thrusted into her synced together, and Y/N’s moans were the cherry on top. They all loved how vocal she was, “Fuck, I’m close!” She moaned out loudly, and the other two grunted, “Cum with them. George told her, and she eagerly nodded as the two other sped up.

Feeling themself growing close, Sapnap and Dream nodded at one another, “Cum baby.” George told her, and Y/N let a very strong orgasm rake through her body as she felt the warm substance enter her in both holes. Soon she felt empty as the pulled out, George picking her up, carrying her tired body to the bathroom, the other two following behind. Sapnap started the water, as Dream got the bubble mix, pouring it into the water as George got into the tub with her. Dream slowly sinked into the tub as Sapnap got towels for everyone, before he himself sunk into the tub. Everyone relaxed in the water, before George turned it off, cleaning Y/N’s body and washing her hair. “Did you learn your lesson?” Dream asked, and Y/N tiredly nodded, “Yes sir.” She whispered.

[lorainelaneyblog]

This is God, and I am here to say that good women fall asunder when there is a man in the picture, even their own husband. Loraine Laney, the other day, wondered if, for the ubiquitous threesome, the husband should obtain the other woman, and this is true, Loraine, the husband obtains, he finds and chooses the other woman, so when men offer to bring a woman, just let them do it. She does do that, T.I. In fact, in a rare, good, business decision, Loraine realized it was best not to charge extra for a woman. It was a good move, Loraine, sensible, though there have been no women.

‘But why? She charged them, didn’t she?’

When she did go to a couple, the man saw her struggling with her massive massage table, and felt bad. He was the type of man to do all, all, all, all, all, all, all, Loraine, the cleaning, which, to his, fucking, credit, he bragged about to Loraine. His wife, such as she is, is fucking lazy, Loraine, like a lot of women you know.

His wife, such as she is, showed up later and paid a hundred dollars because, Loraine, idiot, to assuage the pain of bisexuality and to please the husband, offered bare back, to her specifically, which, she should not have done, because then she had to fulfill it. And the woman, such as she is, no, I do not like her, Loraine, she is a terrible, gross, cheater, on him, and he, honestly, Loraine, as dumb as anyone, you in particular, believes she is faithful, and even Loraine wants to say he goes to prostitutes, which he does, but he is honest, and even she, especially she, can’t believe that honesty is the key to promiscuity--

‘But I thought she said--’ says T.I.

Yes, says God, promiscuity, also her theory, is on the backs of invested men, yes, it is, yes, it is, yes, it is, yes, it is--

‘But why do they have to do that?’ asks T.I. ‘Why? That is total, fucking, bullshit. Why?’

For their trouble, she theorized, men get the field, young women, races, old women, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, any, fucking women that they want. And it is a good arrangement, T.I. because, in exchange for the field, men provide men to their wives. They do so in the following way--

‘Why do we have to share our friends, and they don’t?’

Because good women fall asunder rather than engage in competitive behaviours, they do, and that is how it is, and that is how, I, God, want it. And this is how this plays out, T.I., this is how this plays out, we have written about it on this blog, and now we, God, me, and Loraine Laney, are writing about it again, we are. Men play the field, and women have sex with the friends, colleagues, and, even, employees, at the behest of the husband, in prosti-fucking-tution, and only in prostitution, T.I. and, further, women do not engage in man hunting in tennis clubs and restaurants, but stay home and wait. Men choose, men introduce, women must state it when there is a desire for someone, but the man chooses if and when, and, also, whether it continues or not. Men have veto power, T.I., and women do not. And Loraine Laney further theorized that women should never have veto power, even in the beginning stages of a relationship, if they are hoping to set the stage for commitment.

Loraine Laney thinks, and she has never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, had anyone commit to her, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, even when she wanted them to, ever, never, I mean, funny, I, God, am being funny, right, Loraine?

‘Yes, God, it was a grammatical error.’

That’s right, Loraine, it was, and I would like to say that T.I. is very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, uncomfortable with this arrangement, and this is why, his wife got to do whatever, the, fuck, she, wanted, wanted, Loraine, anything, and all of the rappers did this with their wives for the exchange in freedom, for the exchange in freedom, and this is how that panned out, Loraine Laney was trying to theorize how a good woman would play out the equality in freedom, and she came up with nothing, you did, Loraine, you realized that all things being equal, women always get in over their heads, because of the influence of men. And yes, T.I. wondered, as with all men, ‘can’t they just close their legs?’ and Loraine Laney becomes irritated with this discourse because it ignores, among other things, women’s libido, which, she further, and correctly, I might, God, add, theorized, or anyway stated, was equal to men’s.

What else does it ignore, Loraine?

‘The fact of women’s inferiority and submission.’

Right.

‘The power of seduction.’

Right.

‘A woman’s hopes.’

Right.

‘Even, dare I venture, that nefarious tendency to jump into bed when one happens upon true love.’

Right.

‘I mean there is a weird equality thing that happens, which, quite honestly God, I can only imagine.’

She is right, says God, and she is right that there is no time that she has ever experienced that, but she has, you have, Loraine, heard of it. She has. [ ] [ ] and [ ] [ ] were like that, and you and 50 Cent--

‘Oh, she forgot about me.’

--might be like that, finishes God.

‘See how horny she gets for me, for my big, fat, faggy dick, yes, she does, and she thinks it’s mildly amusing that I am a big, fat, fucking, queer, because she has an in, and it’s the only in she has, mind you, because--’

Don’t say it, says God. I am God, and I want to change the subject to, the, following, Loraine Laney just queried the following, ‘[gay men] will stick their dicks in hetero women, bi women, whatever, but they like lesbians better?’

Right, Loraine. And T.I. wants to know why. Furthermore, he wants to go back and ask why men have to shoulder the burden of a woman’s, ostensible, sex life, why?

‘I would say because women can’t handle it themselves.’

‘That is fucking bullshit. Why.’

That is a question that she has never answered. She hasn’t, T.I. She just knows that it is so. 

‘Why. can’t. women. handle. it. themselves, Loraine?’

‘I mean I can say they are inferior, even weak, say, but that would be a judgement. I can say they are inferior. I could try and say that men are, fundamentally outside of their capabilities to handle, especially, well, wholly, but sexually too. I could say men are the experts on men, and even on women, God told me recently. But a really logical reason has not come to me yet.’

She’s right, says God, she’s right. They are inferior, emotionally, yes.

‘I thought they were emotionally superior at least,’ says T.I.

She thought, says God, that women were emotionally INferior, actually, but, it emerged later, and she owes [ ] [ ] a mountain for this, that women are--

‘Superior?’

No, inferior, I said, and I am God, but that emotional intelligence--

‘Is an oxymoron?’

True, people do say that, but Loraine Laney, now, likes to say that it goes with language as a female aptitude--

‘I get that they are weaker. They are. That is true, Loraine. But what about anger?’

Loraine thought, and I am God, and I will say it if I want to, that anger in relationships, for men, was not a natural state of affairs. Anger in men, and she is, a, fucking, apologist for male violence--

‘But she’s a slut, a hypocritical slut.’

But she has cared for herself, her. self, T.I. She has never roped anyone into her bullshit, and, when a relationship has emerged, she has reigned in her little slutting, and it is little, T.I. and fought, fought, fought, for poly, while, she doesn’t know this, they all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, cheated on her, even her girlfriend, whom she thought it was tacky to cheat on, after going to a bi group to meet her.

‘I was wondering, God, what is there to the idea of eschewing one’s own desires. I mean, ha ha, I myself wrote, “If you are unwilling to stand up for desire--”’

‘But that doesn’t mean you open your legs to anybody,’ says T.I.

‘Right, or even right away and such.’

‘True. What are you saying?’

‘”--you might as well be the devil.”‘

‘But that doesn’t mean you throw your legs open.’

‘That is what I’m asking God. At a certain point, maybe it does, God?’

‘Why?’

‘Well, and this is gross, but--’

You theorized it, and I said it was true, that in India, women are eschewing men’s advances to such an extreme that it’s giving rise to violence. At the same time, I am God, T.I., speaking through my new messiah, Loraine Laney, and I would like to say that extreme promiscuity, such as you see in Canada and the U.S.A., gives rise to extreme violence too. But, she is right, this is what they are seeing in India. Tell him that, Loraine, says God.

‘[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] lives in the middle east and had been on one date with a woman before relocating [ ] [ ] [ ], and, when he expressed to her a desire to play the field, she said playfully, wouldn’t you say, God?’

Yes, Loraine, I’ll speed this up, she said, playfully, ‘What are you going to do for me, then?’

‘Oh, we’re back there then,’ says T.I.

And I am God, and I would like to say that this particular woman knew that her own mother had been pimped--

‘It’s in exchange for playing the field. And you keep your numbers above theirs,’ thinks Loraine Laney.

‘Mmmm,’ says T.I. ‘We love the field,’ he says.

That is, de facto, weird to her, and it is why she developed the idea of exchanging the friends for the field, she didn’t, even, want the field, says God.

‘But if they don’t even want it, how is that fair?’

Because you do, I’ll take this, Loraine Laney, says God. Men want the field so bad they can hardly, even, think straight, and women want the friends, T.I., that is what they, de facto, want, need, want and need, we say, and yes, Loraine is wistful over men’s freedoms, because, truth be told, that is what she does to avoid spreading her legs, T.I., she stays the fuck home, and many, many, many, hookers don’t.

‘She’s tired from drugs.’

She rests and rejuvenates though, she doesn’t go out and get plowed. She doesn’t.

‘Ever? What about picking? My wife said that was really important, really important, Loraine. What do you have to say about that?’

She wrote in an old journal, published, T.I., that it was “more fun to be out there picking.”

‘Oh, she did. But she doesn’t do it. Doesn’t she want to have fun? My wife liked to have fun.’

But, as God, I am saying what she just said in conversation, not in the blog, that when it is on your back, the man, it is a ton of fun, but when it is on your own, it really and truly ceases to be.

‘Why was she out then, that girl? She did [ ] that night, Loraine, aren’t you jealous?’

‘He was out of my league though.’

‘Oh, right. So you would have felt all bad, but you would have had fun, wouldn’t you?’

‘No, because I would have had to try and win the unwinnable first.’

‘Why? Why can’t you just get fucking laid?’

‘Oh, like not try and, wait, you still have to convince them to lay you.’

‘Oh yeah, that’s true. And that woulda been hard, huh?’

‘I hate that feeling of chasing a guy who does not want to be caught.’

‘And your desperation shows,’ they say together. 

‘Why is that?’ says T.I.

‘In the very act of chasing someone, you become desperate.’

‘Oh, right. So that was a drag for you?’

‘I’m wistful, for sure, so much so that I never actually asked who went with who that night.’

He went home, Loraine, she loves him like a son, but he’s so cute, that it’s confusing. They might know, Loraine, who it is, let’s not describe him, okay? He needs absolutely no hassles, Loraine, his life has been a piece of shit, too.

T.I. wants to know why his wife got to have endless fun on his back, Loraine.

‘It was too hard to think of a solution under an equality regime, I would say.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘The book is called Bros Before Hos, The Equality Apocalypse.’

‘I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. Oh, I get it. What’s the first, the first, and I mean the first, fucking, line, and don’t disappoint me--’

She won’t, says God.

‘--because that title does not disappoint. What is it? Men suck and lose their friends?’

‘Is it cold comfort that you get to keep, hopefully, your friends, if you pimp your wife to some of them, I’m wondering.’

She just wanted to get that down, and now, the first line is “There are no victories in a war--” It’s the gender war. “--against men.”

‘That’s fucking brilliant. So how did this little slut integrate her slutty, idiot, self in this hypocritical diatribe?’

She doesn’t, this is God, even, really, know how to answer that, she sometimes says she’s a product of her times, and this, is, God, and I will say what I want to, Loraine, she is, T.I. She could have been a gross, disgusting, little slut, after her nose job, but she stayed true to herself, and decided to get paid for her ridiculous libido.

‘She’s not even wet anymore, and she probably has yeast.’

True. She stopped the planes, and, God willing, the end of the planes, en masse, despite carrier jets, and military bullshit, the end of the little, bullshitty, constant, stupid, flying around, should spell the end of yeast.

‘Fifty flies, is he going to give it to her?’

‘You can’t pass it, surely you know this.’

‘I do. But you can pass the chemicals on, into the blood stream, and she’ll get yeast again, and it will, it will, it will, taste, fucking gross. It will.’

True, also, it will pass on in the blood stream, and she might get a bout of yeast again, but it will go away if she, and he, are healthy, and remember, you are one of her husbands, you would be, T.I. if you decide it is what you want.

‘Why is she all sad? Why should she get the great, amazing me? Why?’

She wants the family and they are Fifty’s chosen family, they are, you, all, are, you are.

‘I want to go back to the title for a minute,’ says T.I. ‘What does it mean? I think I have an idea, so I want to try, because I like, love--’

‘Thank you!’

‘Don’t say thank you, I love your first line, I wanted to say. So, the title, means that when women are promiscuous, but that’s your slutty self, so who do you blame? Just tell me, is it men?’

‘I segued from blaming men to blaming equality, and wouldn’t you say equality is the sole culprit in the book, Lord?’

Yes, I would, Loraine, she doesn’t, at any point, blame men directly, or do you? Look.

I am God, and T.I. just confronted Loraine about [ ].

‘And about [ ] for that matter. You were a hand job girl. What’s the difference between that and what my wife was doing, playing around all the time, while I worked, and screwed, but made all the money. Are you going to use all your nefarious, maybe, money, for an excuse to do anything you want, Loraine? Because that is what they do, Loraine, if they have money, they think they should be able to ball like a man, don’t you think, Loraine?’

I am God, and I would like to say since Loraine was honest, she got away with nothing, nothing, T.I.

‘She cheated once and didn’t tell. Who was that on? [ ]?’

No one. She cheated three times, and told every time. I don’t count some things. I count, God, I am God, and I count the one on [ ], fingering, kissing--

‘So what? Maybe she lied.’

She did not lie. This is the point here, that she did not lie. T.I. is very upset because he never got a resolution to the bullshit with his wife, Loraine Laney does not drive, and she has been told by 50 Cent--

‘Why? She drunk and drived?’

Loraine smiles.

No, says God. She had a seizure on crack and they gave her one strike.

‘It’s supposed to be three. For that.’

Yes, says God, but it wasn’t. This is the sort of shit life, she has, her face annoys people, and he loved her sexually, he did, that doctor, Loraine, he did, right, a, fucking, way, right away. Her boy face turns them on, destroyed or not, it does, and it is a construct of orientation. She cannot help being attractive to men. And your wife, Loraine is jealous suddenly, because she knows, she realizes right away, that your wife, being a twenty eighty, is a stiff competitor for male attentions. They are popular, the lowest women, that is why, that is why, T.I., Loraine became a prostitute.

‘She wasn’t even popular,’ she said.

She was very popular, says God, despite her ugly nose, very, very, she doesn’t realize this, popular, with men. Yes, the fucking Seaforth, some of them, liked you, Loraine, though you say it was only a few boys from your home corps, your popularity extended beyond that, but you don’t know. [ ] [ ] himself heard about it, and zeroed in on you, thinking you would be a fun slut to cheat on his girlfriend with, but, seeing you so sweet, could hardly bear to stand himself, and so you ended up with a lame friendship, you did, didn’t you?

‘True, God.’

She wanted him so bad, an eighty twenty, but, no.

‘Why no? He spent enough time on her. She never said anything. She’s chaste, she’s frigid, or something.’

They call her frigid, right now, today, and this is the first that this has come out in the blog, and they will wonder how she knows it, they will think [ ], her drug dealer, told her, or something, but it is not true, at, all. I have said, at Amigo’s, where she said, “Do you want me to open a bank with that?”

T.I. cracks up, says God.

‘She’s a bitch, she is, she’s a bitch, unguents, my ass.’

Tell him that one, quickly, off camera, please, says God.

Let’s go back to that for a second, says God. Loraine Laney is loathe, loathe, loathe, loathe, to blame chastity for violence against women, but T.I. and Loraine were just discussing raising children without a father, and it is true, Loraine, there are behavioral problems in children with absent fathers, mostly boys, and then, as you say, as girls come of age, there are sexuality problems. There are. She and they, T.I. himself, on the ether, are right. Loraine Laney would not like to raise a boy without a dad, and T.I. does not like raising a girl without a mother, Loraine, but he is integral in their lives, and Loraine Laney does not think that when you--

‘Loraine is very opinionated,’ says T.I.

--and your daughter disagree, you should cite her feminism, she doesn’t, simply because, she is right, it is a hole you can’t climb out of, because of course you believe in rights and freedoms for women, you are one, says God. And you can’t, fucking, win that one, T.I. because, also, you want to appeal to men, so you do not actually want to be known as, or even be a feminist, so it is a terrible insult. Loraine Laney’s father, you don’t really remember any lines, Loraine, but you know it’s true, did her for feminism, after having for thirteen years, a lazy, fuck of a wife. He is not lazy, he just hates working.

‘True?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘He works away at the house and the garden, in addition to his job, of course, before he was retired, of course.’

‘I want to ask why Loraine Laney gets to be a slut, why?’

She puts nothing on anyone, and, when there is someone, she tells all, and lets them get away with murder, mur, der, T.I., murder. That time she washed [ ]’s jacket for five nights in a row, two flights down, all the money, he got laid five times, Loraine, not one, letting her wash his disgusting, filthy, jacket, which smelled, like his ass, while he had a washing machine and dryer included in his rent. It, smelled. Like the fucken Lamplighter.

‘He was a show guy, all his money, and no jobs to speak of.’

He always had a job, beer, and twenty dollars to pay his way on dates with Loraine, and he would wait and get the twenty dollars out on the date.

‘But she was a hooker, though.’

She was a fuck, ing, hand, job, girl, she worked at the massage and, yes, the come was flying, it was all over the place with no condom but she used gloves, back then--

‘What about us? She’s not using them now.’

She doesn’t, no, because she is embarrassed at being a twenty dollar prostitute and fucking around with gloves.

‘I bet she kisses too.’

She, fucking, does, and she doesn’t care if 50 Cent won’t let her kiss, she’s only worried about the men, because, because of this, she gets a lot of men who like to kiss, and, it is a little known secret, Loraine, and T.I.--

‘Don’t put us together.’

I will, God, I am, if I want.

‘Sorry God. I am sorry, God.’

Tell him that quickly off the record. It is a little known secret that men, like, to, kiss, MORE, than women do, MORE, Loraine, and T.I., MORE. I know, God, me, God, that it is, almost, fucking, unbelievable, take another speed, Loraine, I’m serious, just do it, please, you forgot. I don’t care, just do it. It’s not the black out speed.

Let’s, says God, go briefly back to the middle east and India, because people are wondering what, on earth, could go wrong with chastity, and it is, precisely, Loraine, when people, and women in particular are bad for this, eschew their own, their own, their, fucking, own, desires, is what Loraine--

‘You sure give her a lot of credit,’ says T.I. ‘You do. Why?’

Because she is my preeminent sexologist, and Sweden, they do, Loraine, want to give her, as fucked as the book is in places, a doctorate--

‘A fucking doctorate?’

Yes, a fucking doctorate, in both sexology, which has yet to be earned, ever, by anyone, it does, sexology maxed out at a master’s degree, T.I., it did, it DID.

‘I knew that somehow. I never heard otherwise, and you would ask and wonder--’

Tell him that, Loraine.

‘There was a client who came with a master’s and he was telling me cavalierly about a guy he knew who made a sport of picking up fourteen years olds for sex.’

‘Oh, I see, and how do you feel about that, Loraine?’

‘I think you should have good intentions.’

‘What if they don’t want you to have good intentions, Loraine? You know about girls like that, don’t you? They like married guys and older guys for experiences? You must have had that experience.’

‘At the same time, it’s not skeet shooting.’

‘True. He was being cavalier, laughing, even, and he had a masters in sexology. And you thought he sucked.’

She was, understandably, very upset.

‘Jealous?’

Not. She was worried about the girls/women, and that is precisely how she feels about you, that is what she worries about, being a bad--

‘Feminist,’ says T.I.

Why feminist, T.I? says God. Woman. A bad woman. For failing to help girls.

‘To save them from men.’

To give them every opportunity to help themselves, is what the book is about.

‘She believes in prostitution for girls? Young girls?’

Girls who are ready for, even having sex, should be able to charge, you would agree with that, wouldn’t you? I know you do. I know you do. I am God, and that is what all the rappers, and the other men, too, think. But, I am God, and I would like to say that there is a wholesale, wholesale, denial of one’s desires, in India.

‘What about marriage?’ asks T.I. ‘They marry. Why, since when even, are they so pious? And what about the middle eastern woman?’

She asked, playfully, lovingly, to be pimped, and he agreed immediately, immediately, Loraine, and you may hear that he is to marry, you may.

I am God, and I would like to say that women, in India, are eschewing men in droves, Loraine, and it is, fucking, religion that is doing it, fucking religion, and it is not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not, not, fucking, happening, to, the, same extent in the fucking middle east, and I am God, and I say this is so. Loraine Laney, dumb as she is, is saying that there are three major religions in India, Christian, first, because she is one, Hindu, and Sikh, and they are all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, all, very, fucking conservative religions sexually. Islam incorporates sexuality, it does, insofar as it speaks of women being unclean on certain days, period days, and, though it is untrue, it, at least, speaks of the vagina and implies sexuality, Loraine, and the fact that women may not go to the mosque, also, implies that there is something unsavory about women, which may, and does, Loraine, have to do with sexuality, and don’t you find your client to be very open sexually, despite what he says about, “You are my wife, in front of God.”

‘Yes, I do. You are right. That is a feeling you have about him, despite that he pays lip service, almost, to immorality. Hm.’

Why does that surprise you, that he is open?

‘It’s not something you expect from middle eastern people?’

Or him, in particular?

‘He did ask me for marriage, God.’

Yes. Right. He believes in polygamy, so, in that sense, he is doing right. They do not, in the middle east, or in India certainly, for that matter, believe in female centered anything, Loraine, and that will be a problem in the years to come, because of the very fact that the most troublesome men, that is to say the most dominant and physical/sexual superiors, are at loose ends. They are fighting, Loraine, in, as you, dumb, say, factions of various kinds, they are, Loraine, they fight within their country more than our own gangs, they do, they, fucking, do, Loraine, over women, over religion, over stuff, things, Loraine, and they are not, save Afghanistan, now, because of America, poor, they are not. Lebanon, where he is from, and he will not worry, because it is a fairly veiled reference.’

‘Not too veiled,’ says T.I.

It is, says God, they all, the middle eastern men, say that to their hookers. He revels in his sexuality, wouldn’t you say, Loraine? And sometimes, though he is totally wrong for her orientation wise, and he had another problem we won’t mention here and now, but maybe later, separately, because it is too embarrassing, she enjoys him quite a bit.

‘Why? Oh, she does.’

‘He’s intense, he’s open, he is, you are right, God, whatever he goes through, it’s not affecting his desire, his libido or his fulfillment.’

In other words, says God.

He knows exactly what he wants and he gives the orders. He’s good.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ says T.I. ‘Marry him, polygamously, don’t be a gross, ugly, slut with eighteen husbands, be a nice woman.’

‘But you have to make an honest woman out of me.’

‘Oh, funny, Loraine, slut, frigid, slut, you are, you’re a frigid, I know she’s going to be frigid, with her two comes in mouth and her one blow job.’

She’s given her share of blow jobs, T.I. Not so many that she’s disgusting, but with boyfriends. She pulled away is what, in Morocco, and he, he did, Loraine, he respected her for it, he did, because she would not engage in unsafe sex. When she does, did, one night stands, she would fuck with a condom and that’s it.

‘Oh, I see. So she’s frigid. How many comes in that thing? Cheating aside. Others cheating for her, I mean, like that gross girlfriend she had, sucking dick on her knees, gross, in the alley, no doubt. Has she ever done that? Bare back. You told us about that one, Loraine. Was it text book?’

‘Yes, perfect.’

‘No overage? He was a perfect gentleman?’

‘Absolutely perfect.’

‘Nice, Loraine. Oh, there’s one, and, oh boy, big surprise, frigid refused to get on her knees, didn’t she? Oh, she just sucked it and shook it out, just in the knick, felt the rushing, did she? Shook it out in the gross, no doubt, sand. Nice, Loraine, refusing to get on your knees, eh? And you love it, don’t you, on your knees, don’t you?’

Yes, she, does, she does, and yes, T.I., when she, Loraine Laney, says in the context of marriage, this is no fucking joke, T.I., no. fucking. joke. This. fucking. family. will. be. fucking. hell. for her, not just for her, but it--

‘Are we going to have more than one wife? What if I want a mistress. Is she, frigid bitch, going to, fucking, tell me what to do in ANY way? In ANY way.’

‘No,’ says 50 Cent. ‘She will be at home, and we can use her willy nilly, kidding, Loraine, see how precious she is. She actually believes she’ll be happy with eighteen, beast, sex pigs, she believes that, she is deluded in more ways than just schizophrenia, wouldn’t you say, T.I?’

‘I would say if she thinks this shit is going to make her fucking, fuck, happy, she’s a bigger fucking nutcase than Sunday. What is this, “in the context of marriage” bullshit she’s always spouting? She’s going to eat my hairy ass because we’re married? Why? Why isn’t she doing it now, the frigid bitch, if it’s so important. Because she wants to marry well? She’s a poor, old, ugly, prostitute, though she looks okay sometimes, but not too okay, not. too. fucking. okay. She’s terrifying for me, because she’s even, uglier, than my ugly, old, wife, she is, 50 Cent. She’s mushy, she has no facial structure--’

‘She’s pretty. That’s why she’s pretty.’

‘Oh, dawns on her. My wife had amazing facial structure, I was, fucking, saying, nice cheek bones, and she looks as young as my daughter, yes, she, fucking, does. And this bitch has a lot of grey hair, a, fuck, of, a, lot, yes, she does.’

She has had a terrible, fucking, life, and you would do well, not in looks, T.I.--

‘But they’re all dead, you said that. I thought we were going to get a cute, little, wrecked porn star, a little, lame, dumb, too dumb for marriage bukkake girl.’

‘That’s one thing that I hope girls learn from me, no matter how gross they are, they still deserve marriage. I mean gross as in innate grossness, here, right God?’

She means, fucking, innate, innate, innate, fucking grossness, she doesn’t mean a woman with no standards.

‘How is she so perfect?’ asks Nelly.

Look at who she’s marrying, Nelly, I mean look. They don’t come any grosser, sluttier, or sex piggier than 50 Cent, no, they don’t. This bitch, such as she is, and she is a bitch, a good one, chose, she fucking chose right, T.I. This man is a pig, T.I. and she loves him for it.

‘She’s trying to get his girls, his women, she’s a gross bisexual, boring.’

She won’t, I promise. torture you with feminist bisexuality or anything. Your daughter, stop it, T.I. is normal, she is not overtly feminist, you won’t want to hear this, you won’t, but she is submissive, and even, God forbid, knows her place among men, not the least which--I’ll say it how I want to, Loraine--is because of her dad, her dad, you, and, yes, Loraine, to answer your question, when she was young, and when they are not fighting, such as fathers of free thinking, free acting, liberated daughters will do, God, I am, T.I., it is not Loraine Laney having a bead on you and your daughter, but God, me, God, speaking through my messiah, Loraine Laney, she is my new messiah, new, messiah, she is just like, fucking, though she didn’t suffer as much, though she tried to say she was longer suffering, because she started competing with Jesus fucking Christ for suffering, yes, she did.

‘That was nice, Loraine,’ says T.I.

‘It was a mistake. I was very sorry.’

She knew it was a mistake, because I told her, T.I.--

‘She still feels guilty, bad, very bad, for competing with Jesus, God. Why?’

I told her that she suffered immensely, and, because she was older, Jesus died young, but he suffered, in his shorter life, even, fucking, more, and she, such as it is, can hardly imagine that, suffering more over a shorter period. It was, Loraine, as though he had unguents for forty, nearly, years. Even after he was married, especially because of his marriage to many women, eight, to be precise, was his number, not thirty five like Winston Blackmore, or nine like Warren Jeffs, whom she respects immensely, but whom do not respect her--

‘I don’t respect her, she’s, fucking, gross, with her eighteen, “in the context of marriage,” husbands, with her ass poking and licking, sure I want her to, I want someone to--’

I lied, Loraine, not all men, not all men at all, think about poking and licking, he does, her [ ], but he’s a gang bang boy, yes, he is, an intellectual one, and I rused her that only a few of the men were intellectuals--

‘I take it she is one.’

Yes, T.I., she is one. She is a highest intellectual. Nelly’s not the only intellectual, nor Eminem, nor just 50 Cent, 50 Cent, I have corrected myself, is, actually, no, not a high, Loraine, but a fuck, ing, highest intellectual, as yourself, Loraine, and, though they are to varying degrees, Brian is the ostensibly dumbest, as you liked to put it that day.

‘Save for you,’ says Brian.

‘Oh, she loves Brian.’

‘She loves my shirts, she loves my--’

Purple, Loraine thinks.

‘Mauve, Loraine. See how dumb she is?’

‘Why is she too dumb for us? Why? Why is she too ugly? I don’t, fucking, understand, says T.I., Loraine.’

Funny, T.I, says God. We, together, decided to leave quotation marks out of my speech, because I am too awesome to need quotation marks. She’s getting tired, her fingers are tired, and she has more speed, but she doesn’t want to use it for writing, because her fingers are going numb. This is what it is, there are fifteen, age appropriate, God ordained tens, in a gang bang girl.

‘Who cares, get a kid. Who are these women who want us? Get one.’

She would say the same, and she has, several times, because she would rather be prettier, but she’s--

‘Who cares about smart, she’s not even smart, we’re here saying how dumb she is, she’s dumber, get the smarter, prettier one, get her, what’s wrong with all these porn stars who are displaced, unmarriageable, she would, no doubt, say, but she, whore, is, marriageable, that is. Why? Why is she so good? Where are they, these porn girls.’

They are pretty, and small, I will admit that.

‘Get a taller one, get her, get her and give her to me. I want the dumber, even dumber sounds like, prettier one, yes, I do, that’s what I want.’

I have said this over and over again when this comes up, none of the viable--

‘Get us an unviable one.’

Viable is viable for a reason, T.I. says God. Don’t you think, I, God, knows who is viable and who isn’t? They are fucking viable.

‘Get one. I want the prettiest one. Get her, please, God. Is she a slut?’

‘Yes.’

‘I want a slut who won’t fuck around. On us. Eighteen husbands. Yes, I do. That’s what I want for my faggy ass. That’s what I want. Oh, she likes me faggy, oh, these fifteen, they all like me faggy. Awesome. Get me the one who likes me the faggiest. Where. is. she?’

Loraine wants, God speaking, to think she is more special than the others, don’t you, Loraine?

‘Yes, God, so as to be, in some way, worthy of these incredible men.’

‘She wants to be incredible now.’

She wants, she said, to be worthy. She cannot, make it, alone, she can’t, her, life, is, a, fucking, piece of shit. Yes, it fucking is.

‘Aren’t all their lives a fucking piece of shit without me?’ says T.I.

No, says God, but that is not the reason, the main reason that I want her to have you is because she is smart enough. She is very sensible humanity wise.

‘What does that fucking even mean? She’s smart. She doesn’t know either.’

I said to take another speed, and save, says God. I am God, and I would like to say that, this whole time, Loraine, I have been lying to T.I.--

‘It is hard to run yourself into the ground without using people, isn’t it? No, that’s not necessarily true. You wouldn’t, theorizing, even have to lie with over under, you could just be a porn worker or never say no, tell everybody even--’

But nobody would want you, interrupts God. You would need, in order to run yourself properly into the ground, to risk, to get even, eventually--she hasn’t had a disease in ten years--diseases. And yes, that would be immoral. Suicide, another way to go, but I don’t blame people for this, or fault them in any way, and this is reflected in their lives continuing on in heaven, yes, it, fucking, is, good, for, fucking, them, good, for, fucking, them. So, yes, Loraine, taking yourself down, does require using people, and lying to them, even if it’s in a self destructive bid, honestly, you were right about that. She--

‘I don’t care.’

I’m God and I say what’s important--is not self destructive, she’s a gross, greedy, selfish, evil, that is what she is, Loraine, and, though he is not as bad, by far, he’s evil too, not saying who or what about him is evil, but she has some idea, he never says anything nice about anyone who wants him, wouldn’t you say, Loraine? He made fun of [ ] all the time, and it took him forever to figure that out, as it did you, because he was veiled, laughing, but that could have been at anything, he would--

‘I don’t care. I’m bored,’ says T.I. ‘Talk about my dick. Talk about my porn star. Talk about my gang bang whore. She’s a whore but she’s better, more chaste, not better, than us, is that right? Oh, she smiles at that, she likes sluts, she’s proud of that, that she’s better than them.’

Oh no, she’s not, says God, oh no, she is not. She feels not jealous but bad for their, her, boyfriends, [ ] doesn’t cheat ON anybody, as she never has anybody, but she passes diseases, willy nilly--

‘Oh, willy nilly,’ says 50 Cent.

Funny, 50 Cent. She, Loraine’s old love, is a gross, whorey, slut, Loraine, honestly, she has never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, come up, one iota, why don’t you ask [ ], again, what happened that day.

‘Oh, she’s disgusted. Are you disgusted that you might enjoy it or disgusted by it happening?’

‘Both, fearful, I suppose, and, again, both.’

‘Why?’

‘I’ve always had the safety of having no one, no, one.’

‘Oh, I see, but you think it’s bad?’

‘Really bad.’

‘Why? I thought I was overreacting. When it first happened, when you first heard about it, what?’

‘I thought maybe you were all chatting and the talk turned to sex.’

‘No, not at all. I had gone into the kitchen, and, did she really make eyes at [ ]?’

Yes, says God, and I just told Loraine for the first, the very first time, and bear in mind T.I. and [ ], that Loraine Laney, and she has just said the following: ‘I really thought she was better than that.’ [ ] wants to know what level of morality you think that sleeping with married men is.

Laughs. ‘Yeah, I didn’t really understand good and evil when I was writing the book, but I thought it was a lower morality.’

‘When you say “free agent,” what do you mean?’

‘Out alone at least, willing to make an advance in public, I suppose, along those lines, because I wasn’t asking.’

‘Oh, I see. Why?’

She just said, and it is true, she did not ask on purpose because she didn’t want anything to get in the way of the sex. 

‘What about in prostitution?’

I’ll take this one, she felt, very, very, very, very, for what it’s worth, honestly, as a bisexual who loved women herself, bad for ‘cheating’ on wives, bad, [ ], bad, but she felt, and she was right, that, knowing she was poly and ostensibly unmarriageable--

‘Oh, I see. That she had as much right to be, at least somewhat taken care of as a married, or marriageable, woman.’

God, I am God, says that Loraine Laney was just riffing with [ ] and she thought if a couple follows the pattern of the man playing the field and a woman having sex with the friends and colleagues and employees at the behest of the husband in prostitution, that, and her friend’s friend, just expressed, and well I might add, both that she never eradicated his friends, and that sometimes it was very hard, because, she explained, he would have them over. She just said, “You just feel really left out.” She also said that, remember, Loraine?

‘She said, “He never had that much fun with me.”

And Loraine Laney riffed, and this is why, this is precisely why I give her so much credit, and why she is a fuck. ing. sexologist, T.I. who doubts, Loraine, that you could be so smart at all, but he will find that you are, he will, find, that, you, are, that she betted, if they followed this pattern, that that very triangle--

‘But that’s them again.’

‘True, but you’re in it now. You are one of the sources of, dare I say, one of the sources of extreme pleasure.’

‘Oh, weird, and I feel better right away.’

Loraine Laney thinks that submission is a value of womanhood within your orientation, meaning, [ ], that you would be as submissive as your orientation would allow, but I, God, would like to add to that, and this is why women hate my work with Loraine, a fuck, ing, dominant, practically--

‘I see that in her,’ says T.I.

She is the pot calling the kettle black, but when I told her to write that “social submission should be replete in women,” that is--I’ll write it how I want, I am God--what you are thinking and seeing in your mind with submission as a value generally, Loraine, it is true, and the best women, and the Chinese, yes, they do, they have this in spades, they, know, they’re, fucken submissive socially, and [ ] will appreciate this immensely, Loraine--

‘What will I appreciate immensely. I want to appreciate something immensely.’

The Chinese woman, and Loraine--

‘Oh, Loraine this time.’

Funny, [ ]. Loraine feels bad for ‘discovering’ this--

‘Are not the most submissive women? But you just said they were. Sexually? Who is? Is it me? Are you fucking serious, big, fat, busty, full bodied, black women are the most, fucking, submissive? Really? So what does that mean for him? He did me senseless with Asians, Loraine--

‘Ohh, right.’

‘Senseless, and that’s why it hurt so much when it was [ ].’

And, they were just talking about their bisexual experiences with her, so that was it too, Loraine. So she would just like to tell you what she saw, that they didn’t see that she saw.

‘She reached over and rubbed his shoulder, as if in a sympathy gesture over having to deal with me, because we weren’t getting along well that day, and then, he reached over and grabbed her knee and when they saw me, he snatched his hand away, and neither of them, to this day, do you think I was wrong, realizes that I saw the shoulder rub.’

No, when it’s self preservation, she doesn’t believe in telling the whole truth, and no, she cannot, she cannot, think of any examples, because she has always, she has had the luxury of telling all. She has never, been, married, [ ], never, as, you, fucking, well, know. [ ] did you senseless over married men with [ ], and then she did that. Wow. 

‘Hm.’

See, she doesn’t care. She has left, everyone, well and truly behind--

‘You were mean to her. She wrote about her. She can sue you.’

‘I have been advised not to give my big, rich, money, to people who can sue me.’

‘Oh, I see, so we will see none of that, even though you were mean to her?’

I have--

‘She doesn’t know though.’

Nevertheless, this is how I work, and I have advised her not to give any money to her evil friends, and, though 50 Cent is upset about it, because Loraine has admired [ ], as a flirtatious and captivatingly so, and clever about it, friend.

‘She’s funny, isn’t she? She’s quick. What did you do to [ ] with [ ], Loraine, because I think you asked for that.’

‘She has, admittedly, though she would never flirt or make any kind of move, I’ve never known her to do it, I will say that, and I am God--’

‘But she is single, she’s always single, she doesn’t care,’ says [ ].

No, because she’s single, she’s very, very, very, worried, and she had one--

‘One!’

True, one, very uncomfortable moment with [ ] and [ ] [ ] from BCTel, yes, write BCTel, Loraine, it’s not obvious and I don’t care, God, I don’t. She was a gross, fucking, cheating on a friend, slut--

‘Were you bisexual with her too?’

‘No. But I loved her, and it could well have been a love more reserved for a lover than a friend.’

‘Though not passionate, you were going to say.’

‘Not genital.’

‘Oh, I see, but you loved her and you said it and she thought you were weird, and said that.’

‘She’s smart,’ says 50 Cent.

‘Yeah.’

‘So, yes,’ says [ ].

‘Exactly, yes.’

‘That is precisely, and exactly, what happened to me with [ ], Loraine. She said, “You’re weird,” and she, herself, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, did she to you?’

‘She said she had sex with [ ].’

‘And she said sweet, fucking [ ] smelled like a [ ]. That is what she said, isn’t it, Loraine?’

‘Yeah. I felt she was so unsuspecting.’

‘I know. And you too. She implied you were madly in love because you were a gross, overwrought bisexual. And when I said I was a bit bisexual and I loved her a bit too, she said, “Gross.”‘

‘Hm. Nice. You got me beat. But the fucking rejection.’

‘Do you think you had more?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Why?’

Because she doesn’t want to say something gross to someone so nice, says God, but the sun shines out of your proverbial asshole, she wouldn’t be Loraine’s best friend--

‘She wanted to steal her?’

That was not in her mind, no, says God. Go on, Loraine, do the --and she didn’t want her sexually, that came across plenty, and remember, they drank together more than you did by this time. She can’t drink, Loraine. And she hates to drink with [ ] because she is too fun with alcohol, especially around her husband.

‘Disdainful.’

‘It’s about you again.’

Loraine Laney is thinking about [ ], [ ]’s abused and cheated on boyfriend, Loraine thought it was him who was mean, and she was cheating like a fucking slut, Loraine, and bitter and jealous all the while. Anyway, says God, Loraine, such as she is, Laney, would like to make this one point to [ ], and if we said it, we will reiterate it. I am God and I would like to reiterate the point that Loraine Laney made when she was riffing to [ ], which is that when a couple follows the dictated, suggested, that is, pattern of polysexuality, to use Loraine’s word, there emerges, and this is God talking, such tremendous excitement on the part of the man that there is renewed vigor for passion with his wife. Sharing. does. that. It does. It’s not wholly without consequences--

‘I’ll say that,’ says T.I.

Loraine Laney, says God, last thing, says that men do not suffer passionate love, they suffer the reputation of associated women in the context of other men.

‘Oh, I see that, I do. That’s what she’s talking about, but why do we have to do it.’

‘Say that,’ says Doctor Freud.

‘Okay. Thank you, Doctor Freud. It sounds lame to say it’s one of the prices you pay for dominance and superiority, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘But, think of it, you baby women in every way--’

‘Over a paper cut, that is true.’ 

‘Why do you think we’re the masters of men? Oh, because we are men, so we know what devious, little, one track minds they have, we know that, for example, they will, not, hesitate, to do it like God, to use you, even if they have no true intentions, honourable intentions what, so, ever. We know this. And we never forget it, and you, always, fucking do, you do, you’re path, e, tic.’

‘Mmm, right,’ says Doctor Freud and Loraine Laney.

‘I guess it’s based on a poly consciousness, specifically the idea that women need to get laid too, mitigated by the reality of women’s naivete and men’s competitive relationship among men.’

What she’s saying is, basically, says God, notwithstanding that men make better choices in men for their wives, and for themselves, since men do not suffer in passionate love, that doesn’t explain why they have to take the heat though, oh yeah, it does, it’s sharing which gives rise to, for example, anger, sadness and jealousy in men, and is, thus, the only indicator of love.

‘What? Otherwise, they’re all happy and shit, while you’re crying over their big, fat, dick?’

‘Right!’

‘So why do we have to suffer too? We suffer at work you said,’ says T.I.

She also said, in the book, that men suffer passionate love in only one aspect, and that is where it relates to other men, truly, she, fucking, said, that. She did. Which is, I am God, Loraine, and I will say, that was, fucking amazing, to split a hair like that, fucking amazing. You’re fucking welcome. Don’t say it. Go.

[walking-the-tightrope]

Okay

A/N: Yet another supernatural Imagine that just came to me out of complete boredom XD Happy Valentines day to my American friends!

Pairings: Dean x reader

Summary: Y/N has been hunting with the boys ever since she met Sam after the death of her friend Jess. However over the years, while Sam looked at her like a best friend, Dean developed more romantic feelings towards her.  Now those feelings come to light, although not in the way he anticipated

Warnings: Some foul language

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It was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to a simple salt and burn and be home in time for Game of thrones. That was the plan after all.

Thats how it was supposed to go. However, the witch had other plans for you and the Winchester brothers

You, Sam and Dean had been washing the Impala when a Hunter friend of yours named Celine called and told you about a potential case just 20 miles from the Bunker. It sounded like just the type of hunt you three needed after Dean almost lost all of his memmories. So you three jumped into the Impala and headed to Burr Oak, Kansas, a small town just north east of Lebanon.

Upon arrival, Sam, Dean and you went to investigate a murder of a young man, who was found locked in his home and by himself. And yet there he layed, dead as a doornail. There was blood oozing from his ears, eyes and nose and the blood vessels in his eyes seemed to have popped. Acording to the officers, this was the 4th death on that street.

“What are we thinking?” Sam asked. 

“Well judgeing by the EMF that I’m picking up, we apear to be looking at a ghost. Probably a vengful spirit.” You informed the Winchesters, showing them the EMF reader.

So you three went back to the shabby motel room and started looking through the archives. About 4 hours of searching later, Dean had come accross a story about a woman who was murdered by her husband back in 1968. 

The story went that he hussband had poinsoned her with a poison known only as “The Strangler”. Looking at the police photos, the woman’s body looked exactly like all 4 of the victims bodies that had been found in that past week. Feeling certain you had found what you were looking for, Dean, Sam and you headed to the womans grave to put her at rest once and for all.

If only it had been that simple.

After having torched the corpse of the woman whose name was Irene, the boys and you had decided it was time for a celebration. It was officially the quickest case you three had solved. So you two hit the nearest bar and started to drink and kick back and relax. 

Things were going awesome. You three were finally haveing a good time without any cares or worries. Even if it was temporary, it was enough. 

That was until the guy next to began leaking blood out of his ears, nose and eyes.

He began to stumble to the ground and, were it not for Sam’s quick reflexes, he would have made it there. You all three looked at eachother and quickly realized one small fact.

You three had fucked up.

The guy died in Sams arms after appearing to choke on his own blood. The polie and medical examiners arived minuetes later. You three gave your wittness acounts and then waited on the coroners to finish their look over.

“Ok, but if it wasn’t a vengful spirit then what is it?” Dean asked. “Any ideas? Y/N? Sam?”

“I don’t know,” Sam asked. You three were standing out side the bar, watching as the two coroners surveyed the body. You watched intently as one of them reached into the victims mouth and pulled out something small and covered in blood and saliva. The coroner walked over to you and held it out in front of you.

“This was found in the victims throut.” He said. You snatched from him and ordered him to leave. 

“Is that-” Sam began.

“A hex bag?” Dean finished.

You nodded solomly. “Guys, we aren’t dealing with a spirit,” You said. “We are dealing with a witch.”

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The witch itself was easy to find. You three had returned to the bunker and With the help of Sam’s hacking skills and your observation skills, you had found out that the witch had to be somewhere within the bar that the latest victim had died at.  

“Every victim who died was last seen at that bar,” You said. “Our witch has to be there.”

“While yes I agree with you, Y/N,” Sam began, “ It doesn’t explain how the witch gets the hex bags in the people, nor why the EMF went off so rapdinly.”

“Easy,” You replied. “ I have read that powerful witches can disguise their magic as ghost interference to throw people off. As for the hex bags, there was a case in the Men of Letters Data base where a witch in utah shrinked the hexbags super small and put them in the victims drink or food. Than when the curse was activated so to speak, the hex bag would expand.”

“Is that what you do at night,” Sam asked, “Read all the Men of Letter cases?”

“Yes, when I can’t sleep,” you repleid. You looked at Dean who had been silent the entire time. He looked washed out and awful. Your mind jumped into worry/panic mode.

“Dean whats wrong with you?” you asked calmly. No response. “Dean!?!” you shouted. You and Sam rushed to his side. Blood was unning out of his nose. 

“Shit!” You cursed out loud. You grabbed your witch killing gun off the table and cocked it. “Sammy, you stay here with Dean. I’m going to kill that son of a bitch!”

“Y/N wait!” Sam said. “I can’t let you go alone!”

“You can and you will,” you said sternly. “Don’t you dare let that man die.”

You would soon come to regret going alone.

The bar was supposed to be completly locked down as it was a crime scene. So when you saw a middle aged man still in there, sitting alone at a table, whipering in sumerian, your gun flew up.

“Let my friend go you son of a bitch!” You ordered. The witch turned to you and smirked. He then snapped his fingers and stood up.

“Okay, no problem,” the witch said. For a mommet you were left stunned. Then slowly you felt a sickness wash over you. Then suddenly you could feel as if the air was slowly being driven out of your lungs. You fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Your fingers fumbled on your phone as you called Sam.

“Y/N hey. I am going to assume you killed the witch,” Sam said, “Dean’s ok and we got the Hex bag out of him.”

“Sam....Help...witch-” You stumbled back before you fell down to the ground scratching for breath. You could hear Sam and Dean trying to calm you down but you weren’t really listening. You were to busy fihting for your life.

“I could kill you now, but why take away all the fun,” The witch sneered at you.

 Your vision blurred as you felt blood trickling out of your nose and ears, you felt like you were being chocked slowly and in the most painful way possible. You could feel your life leaving your body and slowly your vision began go black. You thought about all the things you had wished you had said and done.

You hoped Sam and Castiel knew how much they meant to you. And Dean. You never had the chance to tell him how you actually felt about him. Somewhere inside your heart, you hoped he knew already. You could tell your time was coming close. 

And then suddenly it stopped. You could feel your breath return to you, you life come back into your body. Someones arms had wrapped around you and pulled you into their lap. You looked up the person, you vision a blurred red colour from the blood in your eyes. 

“Here, I’ve got you,” Deans voice said as he took a napkin and wiped your eyes and nose. You looked up at his worry painted face. You could a few bloodstains on his nose and eyes as well, but besides that he looked fine. You rested your head against his shoulder as Sam took care of the body. Sometime later after Sam had taken the body out of the bar you had fallen asleep in Deans arms.

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You and Dean hadn’t spoken since that day. The ride back to the bunker was silent between you and him. The next day you two barely spoke. And the next. And the next. By the fouth day you had had enough.

“Ok what is your problem Dean?” You asked. “We have barely talked for 4 days! What did I do?”

“Y/N, maybe not now-” Sam began trying to diffuse the situation before it developed into something worse. However dean just cut him off.

“No Sam, stay out of this.” Dean said harshly. “You want to know what you did? Something stupid. You went after that witch even when Sam told you not to, just like you always do.”

“I couldn’t just let you die nor be alone, asshole!” you shouted back your blood boiling. “Tell me what was I supposed to do?”

“You should have let Sam come with you! You shouldn’t have gone after that Witch alone. I could have lost you. We could have lost you, Y/N!”

“I could have lost you to Dean!” You retorted. “You know, you risk your life, your everything time and time again, and Sam and I stand beside you. But god forbib someone else tries to do the same for you! Why are you like that, Dean? Why can’t you just be grateful that some people actuallay give a damn about you and are OK with laying down their lives for you?”

“Because you’re one person I couldnt live with loosing!” Dean yelled at you. “I habe lost Sam twice. I barely survived that. I promised my self I would never loose you if I had something to say about it. You’re one person I don’t want to burry. You mean to much to me.”

“You think I want to keep burrying you?” you said. 

“No of course not,” Dean said. “It’s just.... different.. with you-”

“Why is it diffrent with me? You asked. “I am nothing special. I am just another human just like you and Sam. What makes me so special?

“Because I love you dammit!” Dean yelled. At that point, everything went quite. You could hear a pin drop. You were to stunned to say anything. You just looked at him with glassy eyes.

“Sam, excuse us.” Dean asks. Without a word, you watch as Sam walks out. Dean walks over to you, your bodies now inches apart. He takes your hands into his ans looks into your Y/E/C eyes.

“Y/N I have loved you ever since I met you. When I picture my self happy, I see you and I, together.  Safe and Happy. Next to Sam and Cas you are the most important person in my life. I have had to burry to many people that I care about in my life time. I don’t want to add you to the list.”

By now, you were at a loss for words. You raised your head up and looked at him. Then you reached up and kiss him softly and passionatly. Dean wrapped his arms around you waist and pulled you closer to deepen the kiss. 

When you finnally broke apart, you were left breathless. You looked up at Deans glistening green eyes and smiled.

“I love you to, Dean Winchester. I always have and I always will.” You said softly. “But please, you have to start takingcare of yourself and allowing others to look out for you. We all love you Dean. There isn’t anything we wouldnt do for you. Okay?”

Dean smiled and gave you a quick kiss, those ones that promise more later. “Okay.