Lady Luck Pt. 2

The sticky tension in the room lingered as you furiously wiped your hand clean, still grappling with the sheer absurdity of what had just happened. Tyche, now sat casually on your bed, crossed one leg over the other, leaning back as if she didn’t just walk in on one of the most awkward moments of your life.

“So,” she began, her voice smooth and light, “let’s talk about this little favor I need.”

You braced yourself. After everything that had happened with Aphrodite and Hermes, you weren’t expecting “simple.” Liam shot you a nervous glance, clearly thinking the same.

“Relax,” Tyche said, waving a hand as though reading your thoughts. “I’m not sending you off to seduce another celebrity or anything. This one’s easy.”

“How easy are we talking?” Liam asked cautiously, his brows furrowed.

Tyche’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I have a bride-to-be I’ve blessed with a bit of extra luck for her upcoming marriage. Sweet girl, but she’s in a bit of a bind. Her original bridesmaid flaked out last minute, and now she needs someone to help with her pre-wedding errands. I want you”—she pointed directly at you—“to step in and fill the role. One day. That’s it.”

You blinked, staring at her as if she’d just told you to go bake cookies for Ares. “You… want me to be a bridesmaid?”

Tyche nodded. “Yep. Simple, right? A few errands, some moral support—it’s nothing crazy.”

Liam let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s it? No strings attached? No hidden catch?”

“None,” Tyche replied, holding up her hands in mock innocence. “You’ve already used up a good chunk of my goodwill, so this is me evening the scales. One nice, easy task, and we’re square.”

You hesitated, still suspicious. “Why me?”

Tyche tilted her head, her expression softening. “Because I trust you to do it. Plus…” Her grin returned, teasing. “You do look great in a dress.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Liam chuckled. “Real original,” you muttered.

The mood shifted as Tyche settled in more comfortably on the bed, propping her chin in her hand. “So,” she said, her tone turning curious, “this whole curse thing—you’ve really got Aphrodite’s attention, huh?”

Liam nodded, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, it’s been… a lot.”

You glanced between them, deciding to lay it all out. “She’s got me jumping through these trials—two of them so far. If I don’t complete them all in six months…” You trailed off, unsure how to explain what might happen if you failed.

“She makes the curse permanent,” Liam finished for you, his voice quieter.

Tyche raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting to something almost sympathetic. “Permanent, huh? That’s brutal, even for her.”

“You’re telling me,” you muttered, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve.

For a moment, Tyche seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant. Then she snapped back, smiling brightly. “Well, look at it this way—you’ve already knocked out two trials in two months. You’re a third of the way there!”

“Yeah, but the next one is…” You sighed, the weight of the third trial pressing down on you again. “It’s going to be tough.”

“What’s the next one?” Tyche asked, genuinely curious.

You hesitated, exchanging a glance with Liam. He shrugged, as if to say she already knows so much—what’s the harm?

“I have to seduce Damian Kane,” you admitted, the name tasting bitter on your tongue.

At that, Tyche let out a low whistle. “Oof. Ares’ golden boy. That’s… ambitious.”

“No kidding,” Liam said dryly.

“Don’t worry too much,” Tyche said with a wink. “I’ve got a good feeling about you. But first, let’s focus on my little favor. You’ll have fun—it’s good karma, and who knows? You might even enjoy yourself.”

“Yeah,” you said with a weak smile. “Fun.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted into something lighter as Tyche reclined casually on your bed, her fiery hair spilling over one shoulder as she propped her head on her hand. “You two are honestly fascinating,” she said with a sly grin. “I mean, here I was thinking Aphrodite’s trials would involve, I don’t know, some poetry or a heartfelt apology. But no, she’s got you… jumping through these hoops.”

You groaned, pressing your palms against your face. “Don’t remind me.”

Liam smirked, sitting cross-legged on the couch. “Oh, if only you knew the half of it, Tyche. The stuff he’s been through would make even you blush.”

Tyche perked up, leaning forward with eager curiosity. “Oh, this I have to hear.”

“Don’t you dare,” you warned Liam, pointing a finger in his direction.

But Liam was already grinning like a cat with a canary. “Okay, okay, picture this—our guy here, mister I’m-so-straight, had to…” He trailed off dramatically, letting Tyche hang on his every word.

“Had to what?” Tyche pressed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Blow Marcus Chase,” Liam said, unable to suppress a chuckle.

The silence was deafening. Tyche stared at you, her jaw dropping. Then, as if a lightbulb flickered to life, her expression turned to incredulous shock. “Wait a second. Wait a second! You’re telling me—” She conjured a faint shimmer in the air, like an invisible screen only she could see. “You’re the girl in that video?!”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning louder. “I hate all of you. Every last one.”

Tyche snapped her fingers, and the shimmer expanded into a blurry, zoomed-in clip of you—well, Luna—from that ill-fated concert. The angle was poor, but the outline of your face was recognizable enough.

“I’ve seen this video like five times,” Tyche admitted, laughing in disbelief. “I thought it was just some random girl. You really… wow.”

“It wasn’t me!” you protested, your voice muffled. “It was the female persona—Luna. She was the one doing all of that.”

Tyche doubled over laughing, almost falling off the bed. “Oh, you poor thing. Aphrodite really has you jumping through flaming hoops for this curse, huh?”

“More like diving headfirst,” Liam quipped, enjoying this far too much.

You threw a pillow at Liam, who dodged it with ease. “I didn’t choose any of this, okay? For the record, Luna handles all of the… intimate stuff. Not me.”

Tyche wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. “You’re a walking sitcom, you know that?”

“Glad to be of entertainment value,” you grumbled, crossing your arms.

Tyche composed herself, still smirking. “Okay, I have to ask—how are you even still sane after all this? Most mortals would’ve lost their minds by now.”

“Who says I haven’t?” you replied dryly. “But really, it’s just one day at a time. I focus on the trial in front of me, and I try not to think too much about… the bigger picture.”

“Or the fact that your bras don’t fit anymore,” Liam teased, earning a glare from you.

“Oh, that’s a new one,” Tyche said, her interest piqued. “Care to explain?”

“No, he doesn’t,” you snapped, but Liam was already leaning in again.

“His bras have been getting tighter for weeks now,” Liam explained, clearly enjoying himself. “He thinks they shrunk in the wash, but I’m pretty sure…”

You threw another pillow at him, cutting him off. “We are not having this conversation.”

Tyche was laughing again, her laughter filling the small dorm room with an almost infectious energy. “You two are ridiculous. Honestly, this is the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

“Well, glad we can amuse you,” you said, rolling your eyes.

When she finally rose to leave, Tyche flashed you a playful grin. “I’ll send you the bride’s info tomorrow. Don’t overthink it—it’s supposed to be fun.”

And just like that, she vanished in a shimmer of golden light, leaving you and Liam alone once more.

“Well,” Liam said after a long pause, “that was… not what I expected.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, sinking back into the couch. “Me neither.”

But for the first time in weeks, the favor didn’t feel like another impossible mountain to climb. Maybe, just maybe, this one would actually be okay.

The dorm was quiet, save for the faint hum of the mini-fridge in the corner and Liam’s soft snores from across the room. The moonlight spilled through the blinds, casting pale stripes across the floor. You were lying on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts running wild as they often did at night.

The events of the day replayed in your mind—the absurdity of Tyche showing up, the growing tension over the trials, and that persistent, unshakable itch in the back of your mind. That weird need you couldn’t quite name had been bugging you all day, even as you distracted yourself with classes and conversations. Now, in the stillness of the night, it loomed larger, making it impossible to ignore.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tightness of your bra an ever-present reminder of how badly your bras were shrinking...or how much your body was changing. You’d meant to switch to something looser after jerking off Liam but had forgotten in the chaos of Tyche’s visit. The fabric pressed against you, almost amplifying your awareness of your chest—soft, sensitive, and undeniably there. With an annoyed huff, you adjusted the straps under your oversized T-shirt, hoping it would help. It didn’t.

The feeling was maddening—this strange itch you couldn’t scratch, this tension that had no clear source but refused to leave you alone. You’d tried ignoring it, distracting yourself with Tyche’s visit, schoolwork, and even Liam’s ridiculous jokes, but now, in the stillness of the night, it loomed large.

Your fingers brushed against your lips absentmindedly, and a flicker of relief sparked in the back of your mind. The thought was ridiculous, but it lingered: maybe if you just… You shook your head, forcing the idea away.

Turning your gaze toward Liam’s bed, you saw his familiar figure sprawled out, his face half-buried in his pillow. His snores remained steady and unbothered.

Good. He was out cold.

You sat up, your heart pounding as you reached into your nightstand and pulled out the sleek silicone dildo hidden there. Even now, as you held it in your hands, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation coursed through you. You’d told yourself a thousand times that it was just a tool to help you navigate this insane situation—a necessary indulgence to maintain some semblance of control. But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

You bit your lip as you slipped your hand under your waistband, fingers meeting the slick warmth that seemed to greet you so eagerly. A quiet gasp escaped your lips, and you froze, glancing at Liam’s bed. His snores didn’t falter.

A shiver ran down your spine as you guided the dildo to your entrance, the cool material sending a jolt through your body. You pressed it against yourself, hesitating for a moment before letting it slide in slowly.

“Mmh…” The sound was soft, barely audible, but it still made your cheeks flush. You stifled the noise by biting your lip harder, the pressure in your core building with every careful movement.

Your hips moved instinctively, pressing into the toy as you let out another quiet moan, this one muffled by your hand. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alight as you explored the growing sensitivity of your body.

The itch returned, sharper this time. That unnameable need scratched at the edges of your mind, refusing to be ignored. Without thinking, your free hand moved to your mouth, and you found yourself sucking on your fingers.

“Ah…” you exhaled around them, the sound barely a whisper.

It wasn’t enough. Your gaze dropped to the toy in your hand, slick and glistening, and a new thought took hold—one you couldn’t quite push away. Slowly, hesitantly, you pulled it free, bringing it to your lips. The faint taste of silicone lingered on your tongue, strange but oddly satisfying. You felt ridiculous, but the act soothed something deep inside you that you couldn’t explain.

The first tentative lick made you shudder, a mix of curiosity and embarrassment heating your cheeks. The taste was faintly sweet, you found yourself pressing it further into your mouth, your tongue gliding along its surface.

“Mmmm…” The sound was muffled around the toy, your breath hitching as the act sent another wave of heat pooling in your core.

Your hips moved again, grinding against the mattress as you alternated between the two sensations. One hand guided the toy back to its rightful place, pressing it inside you with a slow, deliberate rhythm, while the other returned to your lips.

Your pace quickened, hips rocking against the toy as your gasps turned into soft, stifled whimpers. The wet sounds filled the quiet room, mingling with the rhythm of your breathing, before switching the dildo back to your mouth.

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You sucked on the toy as if it were the most natural thing in the world, the wet sounds filling the quiet room. Sounds of slickness spilled from your lips as you lost yourself in the sensations, every nerve in your body alight.

“Mmhh… ahh…” The noises slipped out despite your best efforts to stay quiet, each one making your face burn hotter.

Images began flooding your mind, unbidden and unwelcome. The time with Marcus, the time with Michelle, even Tyche’s playful taunts—all of it swirled together, feeding the fire that burned in your core.

As you moved the dildo back to your lower half, you clamped your hand over your mouth, biting down to muffle the growing cries that threatened to escape. Your body trembled, the sensation building into something unbearable.

Finally, the wave crashed over you, leaving you breathless and shaking. A quiet, muffled moan escaped your lips as you rode out the sensation, every muscle in your body tensing before slowly relaxing.

You lay there for a moment, panting softly, the toy still resting against you. Your mind was blissfully blank, free of worries, curses, and everything else that plagued you during the day. For once, there was peace.

After a while, you pulled yourself together, slipping the dildo back into the nighstandand. The cool air brushed against your skin as you adjusted your clothes, the tension in your body finally dissipated.

As you rolled onto your side, staring at the moonlit blinds, you couldn’t help but let out a small, dry laugh.

“This is my life now,” you muttered under your breath, the absurdity of it all hitting you in waves.

Closing your eyes, you let sleep take you, the faint taste of silicone lingering on your lips and a strange, inexplicable contentment settling in your chest.