#they are human beings just like you with lives and dreams and loved ones

[blu3vs]

LATER — J. TORRES IMAGINE

SPOILERS FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA: BRAVE NEW WORLD BELOW THE CUT

synopsis: you knew the risk of being with an avenger, and what it came with, you just never expected such a drastic change in two separate aspects of your life could happen so close together

warnings: brief pregnancy mention, mentions of burns, critical injuries, mentions of death

—————————

two weeks.

two weeks was all it took for your life to completely change in more ways than one, and both involved your fiancé.

just the night before he left with sam, disappearing for god knows how long to pursue his dreams as the falcon alongside captain america. you knew what went down that night, you knew what happened.

it was all still a blur, however, with joaquín being off grid and unable to contact you as you sat alone on your bathroom floor, clutching two positive tests; one digital, one rapid. pregnancy now consumed your body, and you weren’t even able to share the news nor the first time experience with the love of your life.

your mom knew as soon as you did, calling her frantically crying which forced her to step out of her office to console you. you then told your best friend, who lived just thirty minutes from you. she came to your house as soon as she had found out, and the two of you sat together while you talked about joaquín and the baby growing inside of you.

but nothing, not even the adrenaline and fear of finding out you were pregnant could prepare you for what you faced next. you don’t think anything on the world could’ve prepared you, quite frankly.

what you immediately noticed was the sterility of it all. the clean floors, bright white walls with pale blue curtains everywhere, the smell of hand sanitizer and antiseptic. the hallways were long, especially the one that led to the observing room, where you now sat, watching joaquín being worked on with his body surgically cut open and tattered from battle.

you knew it was bad, from the moment you saw it on TV. it was funny, seeing your fiancé on TV as you felt a sense of pride, before it was quickly replaced with utter fear and a wave of nausea worse than your morning sickness. from the initial impact, you thought he was dead.

and he was dead, for two whole minutes on the OR while they desperately worked to restart his heart. you wanted to bang on the walls, jump in, save him yourself, because you were so convinced that just your touch would heal him. you wanted it to, so badly, but that just wasn’t possible for an average human like you.

so while he was coding, you could do nothing but curl into yourself, sobbing as you helplessly watched the surgical team resuscitate him. the two minutes felt like two years, but seeing the doctors shoulders slumped and seeing the monitor spring back to life with his heartbeat made you slightly calmer.

you didn’t know when, but at some point sam had entered the room with you. he was quiet at first, watching them operate on joaquín, before he settled in the chair next you and held you while you cried. it had been the first time since finding out about joaquín that you had some sort of comforting contact with another human, and it made you crumble.

in between sobs you told sam you were pregnant, and it was then that sam had held it together before letting a few tears slip. “you’ll be able to raise this baby with him,” he followed up with, determination and hope in his tone. you couldn’t tell if it was true or not, but you needed the consolation even if it wasn’t.

another hour passed by, where bucky barnes had stopped by just to give his support. you didn’t tell him about your pregnancy, but you could still tell he was earnest in the way he had approached you and briefly supported you.

sam stayed until the surgery was over, and when it was, your tears had dried by that point, leaving mascara streaked down your face. you had thought to yourself about the fact that joaquín knew more ways than one to make your mascara run, and the morbidity of it all made you chuckle.

now, sitting in the hospital room that joaquín occupied, another week had passed since his surgery. you didn’t allow yourself to go home for the first few days, making your friend come to give you clothes from your house. it wasn’t until sam brought up the fact that you should rest, considering your pregnancy, and it was then that it clicked. you needed to rest and reset for you and the baby.

after your brief reset at home, you found yourself feeling lighter and more comfortable, a nice meal and a hot shower was exactly what you needed. you picked back up on your prenatal vitamins, and had a newfound pep in your step walking toward joaquín’s room.

the door didn’t even creak as you opened it, just the small click of the door being heard. but what you couldn’t hear at first was the sound of talking, so quiet and low you brushed it off as next door. his room was quite big, so the closer you got, the louder it got.

“joaquín?” you called out, setting your purse down by the door and coming out from behind the wall that blocked you from seeing his bed. walking from behind that wall and seeing him, so alive and talking to sam made your heart lurch and your eyes tear up. “mi amor,” he spoke, voice slightly raspy but a smile plastered on his lips.

“oh my god,” you cried, walking over to his bed and almost collapsing on top of him as you carefully hugged the side of his body that didn’t have burns running down him. with his one good arm he hugged you back, the heavy brace restricting him but not enough to the point where he didn’t squeeze you tightly.

pulling back from the hug, you grabbed his face in your hands, a watery chuckle escaping your lips as you analyzed each and every one of his features. his hair, unruly and grown out. his cheekbones, his nose, the moles dotted across him face, his eyes, his smile. just him.

sam slipped out of the room which went undetected by you, now just leaving the two of you alone. “i’m okay, i’m alive,” he muttered, taking one of your hands away from his face and kissing your palm gently. whether he noticed it or not, you didn’t miss the way he also started to toy with the ring on your finger as he held your hand in his.

“you’re okay,” you nodded, brushing his curls away from his forehead. “you scared the hell out of me though. your mom too,” you then declared. you noticed the way joaquín’s face fell at that fact, the obvious and very true fact that he did have a brush with death. you figured you would talk more about it with him later as you took notice to his fallen face, and rather focused on the fact that he was just here with you now.

“i know, im sorry,” he whispered, casting his gaze down at the sheets. “don’t. just, be here with me now. we don’t have to talk about it right now unless you want to.”

joaquín shook his head at your suggestion, and now it was his turn to caress your face, a half hearted smile gracing his features. “later,” was all he had to say, and you didn’t press it anymore, and you found yourself curled up into his side after he had pulled you down with him onto the small hospital bed. you couldn’t be more happier and relieved.

whether “later” was meant for that specific topic or any other one, you decided to wait on sharing the news with him. because, honestly, you weren’t too sure if he was ready for the news yet, not because he couldn’t handle it, but because you knew and he knew that later would always be an option now that you were with him.

[xichilie]

HELLOOOOOOO GIESS WHO

Oh wait, I'm anonymous

Okay I'm the one who wanted to see Micahs design, absolutely hot BTW, so I saw the brant x fisalia reader fic, and wish to request a part 2, oh and a concept design of Y/N since she's a fisalia and they're pretty affordable just look at cantarella and Rosemary

and I love your art 😘

Tanks yous

Yes, I remember you. XD, and of course, I got multiple requests for a second part and i had time today. As for the concept art, I made one because yeah, you got me. I had this story with an oc in mind. XD I'll attach the picture at the end ♡

Brant x (fem)reader

A Flower Among Thorns (2)

Part1

Brant had been restless ever since that night.

The Fool’s Elysium bustled around him, music and laughter echoing off the cavern walls, but for once, he wasn’t reveling in the lively atmosphere. Instead, he sat at the edge of the stage, absently spinning a silver coin between his fingers, pink eyes unfocused.

Andreas leaned beside him, brow raised. “Alright, what’s got you looking all lovesick?”

Brant scoffed, slipping back into his usual bravado. “Lovesick? Please. I am merely… intrigued.”

Andreas wasn’t convinced. “Uh-huh. About what?”

Brant hesitated. He hadn’t told anyone about the girl who had found him, who had saved him. The one with the softest hands and a voice like a gentle melody. His angel. He didn’t even know her name, yet she had been haunting his thoughts ever since.

So, with a dramatic sigh, he leaned back. “A mysterious beauty healed me the other night. I woke up to the most enchanting creature Solaris-3 has ever seen. And yet, I know not her name, nor where to find her.”

Andreas snorted. “So, you’ve been sulking about a girl?”

“Not sulking. Longing. There’s a difference.”

Andreas rolled his eyes. “And let me guess, you’ve got no leads?”

Brant grinned, but there was an edge of frustration behind it. “Well, I know she smells like wildflowers, her hands are softer than silk, and her voice is sweeter than any ballad I’ve ever performed.”

“So… nothing useful.”

Brant huffed and stood up, dramatically flipping his coat. “Then I shall have to uncover the mystery myself.”

Brant spent the next few days asking around in Ragunna, trying to pick up any clue about his angel. But with no name, no description beyond “beautiful,” and only the memory of her kindness, it was harder than he expected.

At the bustling markets, he leaned against a vendor’s stall with his most charming smile. “Say, have you seen a girl who smells like wildflowers? Gentle hands? A voice like music?”

The vendor blinked. “Sir, that describes half the women in Ragunna.”

Brant groaned.

At a local tavern, he leaned over the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to know a lovely young woman who heals strangers in the dead of night, would you?”

The bartender laughed. “Son, if you’re looking for a healer, there’s a whole cathedral full of them.”

At the city gates, he approached a group of travelers. “Excuse me, have any of you encountered a heavenly being in human form? Delicate, kind, likely saving lives wherever she goes?”

One of the travelers side-eyed him. “...Are you drunk?”

Brant threw his hands up. “Not yet, but I might be soon!”

No matter where he searched, he found nothing. No one seemed to know her, or if they did, they weren’t saying. And Brant? He was getting frustrated.

Had he dreamed her up? Had she been a figment of his pain and exhaustion?

No. She was real.

And he was going to find her.

Even if it took forever.

Brant sat slouched on a worn stone bench in the heart of Ragunna, exhaling a long, theatrical sigh as he stared up at the evening sky. The city around him pulsed with life—merchants hawking their wares, distant music drifting from a tavern, the rhythmic clatter of horse-drawn carriages against the cobblestone. And yet, none of it reached him.

His mind was elsewhere.

On her.

It had been days, and no matter how many streets he wandered, how many people he asked—no one seemed to know who she was.

Which was frustrating, really. How could someone so bright, so kind, so full of life leave behind no trace at all?

Brant let out another heavy sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. "Am I cursed?" he muttered to himself.

"Not cursed," a voice chimed from beside him, smooth and amused. "Just terribly, terribly unlucky."

Brant blinked and turned his head, only to see Carlotta settling onto the bench beside him. Her white hair cascaded over one shoulder, her soft pink attire flowing like silk. Every movement, every breath she took was measured, elegant. She had the air of someone who could read a room in seconds and bend it to her will if she so pleased.

"Well, well," Brant mused, smirking despite his troubles. "To what do I owe the pleasure? Have you come to sweep me off my feet?"

Carlotta gave him a pointed look. "You looked like a man on the verge of another tragic monologue. I simply couldn't resist."

Brant exhaled through his nose, glancing back at the city. "I suppose I have been a bit… broody lately."

"A bit?" she teased.

He huffed a laugh. "Fine. A lot."

Carlotta studied him for a moment before tilting her head. "You're searching for someone, aren't you?"

Brant's smirk faltered.

She always was too perceptive for her own good.

After a beat, he nodded. "Yeah. A girl. She—" He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "She found me when I was wounded. Helped me. And I haven't been able to get her out of my head since."

Carlotta's expression shifted slightly—an unreadable flicker of thought passing through her eyes. Then, after a pause, she sighed.

Brant immediately picked up on it. He narrowed his pink eyes. "You know something."

Carlotta smiled, amused. "I might."

Brant straightened. "Then tell me!"

She hummed in thought, then leaned forward slightly. "You said she healed you?"

He nodded.

"Then instead of asking the streets," Carlotta mused, "why not ask a healer?"

Brant blinked. "…Huh."

"A brilliant thought, I know," she said dryly, shaking her head. "There is one person who comes to mind—Rosemary. She runs an apothecary not far from here. If anyone would know about mystery healers, it would be her."

Brant sat with that information for a moment. Then, suddenly, he shot to his feet. "Carlotta, you absolute angel."

She smiled, satisfied. "I do try."

Without another word, Brant spun on his heel and hurried off into the streets, new hope sparking in his chest.

Maybe—just maybe—he was finally on the right path.

The bell above the door chimed softly as Brant stepped into Rosemary’s Apothecary, the warm, earthy scent of dried herbs and rare botanicals wrapping around him. The shop was meticulously organized, with shelves lined with glass bottles, labeled neatly in careful script. Bundles of flowers and herbs hung from the ceiling, casting delicate shadows under the soft glow of lanterns.

Behind the counter stood Rosemary.

She was a woman of quiet elegance—long, light purple hair, her features sharp but not unkind. Unlike the extravagant attire associated with the Fisalia Family, she wore a simple, well-tailored white-grey apothecary coat, the only adornment a fine silver embroidery along the cuffs. Her violet eyes, cool and unreadable, flicked up to meet his as she finished measuring out a fine blue powder, tapping it neatly into a small paper pouch.

Corking the glass vial beside her, she finally addressed him.

"Welcome to Rosemary’s Apothecary, where your perfect potion awaits. What do you need,?"

Her tone was steady, polite, yet held an edge of knowing. It wasn’t the first time Brant had walked through those doors, and she always greeted him the same way.

Brant let out an exaggerated sigh, draping himself over the counter as if utterly exhausted. "Ah, dear Rosemary, must we be so formal? No warmth? No 'Brant, you seem troubled, do you require a remedy for your aching heart?'"

She merely blinked at him. "Do you require a remedy for your aching heart?"

He grinned. "Not a potion, no. But I do require something only you can provide."

She didn’t react, merely set the pouch aside. "If it’s information, I deal in medicine, not rumors."

Brant smirked. "Ah, but this is not a rumor. It is a tale of fate! Destiny! The kind that inspires sonnets and songs for generations to come!"

Rosemary simply waited.

Brant exhaled, straightening slightly. "I'm looking for someone. A healer."

That made her pause, if only briefly. She tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "There are many healers in Ragunna."

"True," Brant admitted, before his smirk softened into something almost wistful. "But only one like this."

He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the memory of that night. The gentle hands, the soft glow of magic, the way she had looked at him—not with fear, nor judgment, but kindness.

"She has long, light purple hair," he began, voice unusually soft. "Like moonlight spun into silk. Her eyes… warm, like the deepest amethyst, the kind that draws you in, makes you forget yourself."

Rosemary’s expression remained neutral, but something flickered in her eyes.

Brant, too caught up in his own memory, missed it.

"And her voice," he continued, exhaling a breathless laugh. "Soft, like a lullaby. Gentle, calming. Like she could soothe even the most troubled soul."

His smirk returned, albeit fonder. "Which, of course, explains why she saved me. A lost Fool in need of salvation—"

"Was she alone?"

Brant blinked.

Rosemary was still watching him, but there was something… careful about the way she asked.

Brant thought back, tilting his head. "Yeah. No one else was there."

A quiet sigh escaped her. Not one of relief, but of trouble.

Brant caught it instantly, straightening. "Oh-ho? What was that? You know something."

Rosemary hesitated. It was the first time she had ever seemed uncertain about what to say.

Then, finally, she met his gaze directly.

"Forget about her."

Brant froze.

The lighthearted air between them vanished in an instant.

He had expected teasing, maybe some cryptic remark, but not… this.

His brows furrowed slightly. "…Why?"

Rosemary’s fingers tapped lightly against the wooden counter, her expression unreadable. "If she was alone, then she was somewhere she should not have been. And if you truly do not know who she is…" she paused, voice measured, "then it’s better that you forget."

Brant’s stomach twisted.

That didn’t sit right with him.

Not one bit.

_______________________________________

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Paradise (Winchester men x female reader) - Chapter 2

When you're kicked out from home, you move in with your boyfriend Sam – and his brother and father.

After that fateful night, the encounters with Dean and John, your new living arrangement promises to be a lot of fun. Fun that's going to require stamina. And the ability to handle three very different men.

Read it on AO3

Series masterlist

Rated E. John walks in on Sam, Dean and you while you're having fun. His reaction is not what you expect.

Chapter 2 - Sam

This thing between Sam, Dean and you has been going on for weeks, and sometimes Sam still wants to pinch himself.

A part of him is screaming that this is too good to be true. That sooner or later something is gonna happen that will make this all go up in flames. That his relationship not just to you but also to his brother will be destroyed beyond repair. Good things don't just happen to Sam Winchester. He's always known that.

Other things Sam knows to be absolutely true: he came the first time he watched you come. In fact, he can pretty much get off just from watching you squirm, hearing you pant and moan. He's always liked that - every girlfriend he's ever had was pretty happy about that part, the part where Sam just loves making them come over and over in any way. 

But he's never been down as bad as with you. Maybe because you're so confident in taking pleasure, chasing it. It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet for him when he's been starving. 

Most days since you moved in, Sam wakes with your hand already in his PJ bottoms, pumping his cock. It's how he goes to sleep at night too - with your sounds and tastes and sensations still on his tongue. He holds you close as you both drift off. He keeps waiting for you to get over him or get bored or whatever. But it doesn't happen.

Then that night happened. When you came back from using the bathroom the night you first met Dean and John, after having the most awkward family dinner in human history, something had gotten into you. You pretty much ravished Sam, were on him immediately, so wet as to be dripping.

Sam started suggesting that you wanted his father and brother to hear you and him fuck, and saw the effect it had on you. When he said that maybe you wanted them to have a go at you too, you came, harder and louder than ever before.

Sometimes Sam wonders if he should feel weird about the whole thing. If he should feel threatened by that. But he simply doesn't. He knows you're his. Another thing he knows for sure: you love him, and he loves you.

There wasn’t one specific moment where the two of you decided that you wanted to get caught. It was a crescendo of both of you leaning more and more into that fantasy. Dean and John are always out a lot, so Sam and you often have the house to yourself. So most of the time there wasn’t a real risk. 

Sam would kneel on the couch between your legs and eat you out for hours, until the fabric under you is drenched. More than once you’ve sunken to your knees somewhere where anyone could walk in at any point, taken him into your mouth while looking up at him with half closed eyes. It never happened. Until it did.

Maybe Sam always knew that Dean would end up being involved at some point. Like, really involved. He assumed he’d be into it, but he didn’t know how much he was until you were riding Dean, Sam’s cock muffling your sounds. It wasn’t until he saw how hard you came with both of them inside you that Sam realized this was what had always been the end goal. He remembers the giddy feeling in his chest now, at seeing all that pleasure in you, how happy you were afterwards.

So, yes, the weeks since have been like some sort of amazing fever dream that just won’t end. Dean was shy in the beginning, about the mechanics of it all, and it warms Sam’s heart to see how much more confident he seems to feel. You and he tease each other, and he gets to hold you, kiss you before and after, but when you’re not in the moment, the two of you act just like good friends. And Dean doesn't seem to mind. Sam isn’t super shocked that Dean is happy with not having the responsibilities of actually being in the relationship. It’s kind of who he is.

It’s a lazy Saturday afternoon when the next thing happens. The thing that Sam knows you’ve been thinking about, but neither of you has really addressed. The thing he’s not sure how to feel about until it happens.

Because Sam and Dean are close, closer maybe than any other two people in the world. It just sort of makes sense for Dean to be there. It’s not like this is the first time they’ve intimately shared space. Never the same woman, not even Rachel, Sam’s prom date, because she didn’t even let him get to third base, but Sam has spent more than one night being kept up by Dean getting laid in his immediate vicinity. He’s been there for many of his brother’s sexual misadventures.

So when he enters you, sliding in perfectly smoothly because of how wet his brother has made you, that just makes sense. Or when you take him in deeper because Dean is fucking you faster, because you’re being rocked back and forth between the two, making sinful sounds, moaning their names around Sam’s dick - nothing feels wrong about that. It all feels perfectly right.

On this particular afternoon, you’re on your back. The three of you are in Dean’s room today and you’re spread open, two of Sam’s fingers pressed into you, his knuckles glistening with your wetness and Dean’s on your other side, as you’re just sticking out your tongue, running it over the underside of his balls. It’s a scenario that feels as natural as breathing at this point.

Sam’s pretty sure that what happens happens only because all of you are in Dean’s room. His father wouldn’t barge into Sam’s room the way he does Dean’s. Not because John doesn’t think he has the right to, but because Sam gives him more grief over it, and sometimes he just doesn’t want to deal with that. It’s also because it’s now your room as well, and John at least has the decency to respect that.

That’s the other thing - Sam isn’t dumb. He’s seen the way his father looks at you. The long, lingering stares with his beer bottle halfway raised to his mouth. The way his face goes all soft when he watches you make dinner or make Sam and Dean laugh or when you call him “Mr. Winchester” again. Has seen the way he flexes his fist when Sam kisses you in front of him.

And when you talked about being walked in on, or about the other Winchester men getting a turn at ruining you, you talked about Dean and John. Sam hasn’t forgotten that. He’s simply tabled the thought.

They hear John exactly three seconds before he opens the door. He calls something out to Dean about his car keys, his truck not starting and Dean’s fingers freeze where they’re rolling one of your nipples between them and Sam’s fingers freeze too while he’s thrusting them into you. Only you don’t stop. It could just be that you’re not as conditioned to freeze at the sound of John’s voice, but Sam knows you better than that at this point.

The door flies open, and your lips are still on Dean’s balls. At least for consistency, John freezes too. His mouth is opened to say something else when he stops dead just inside the room, eyes glued to the scene in front of him.

At last, you move your lips off Dean, but it’s only to push yourself up on your elbows, tits and hard nipples on perfect display. Sam watches you raise your eyebrows at John and it thrills him to no end, makes him stare at you in awe. He’s pretty sure there’s nothing in the world you’re afraid of. He thinks he loves you more in that moment than he ever has, despite the fact that his heart is beating so hard he can hear it in his ears.

“What the fuck…” John mumbles, but then his eyes go to your chest and he licks his lips. 

“Hey, Mr. Winchester,” you say then, your tone perfectly striking a balance between porn starlet and that’s what you get for not knocking. Sam wants to grab your face and kiss it. 

Sam sees the confusion on his father’s face and he can honestly say that’s probably the first time anyone’s ever seen John Winchester lost for words. Sam blinks in surprise when he feels you nudge him with your knee and you’re looking at him when he turns.

“Keep going, baby,” you say, the words accompanied by a cheeky little lip bite. “I was close.”

Sam feels the corners of his mouth twitch. Could he? Could he just keep going? He looks down at where his fingers are just outside of your pussy, then looks back at your face. Your pupils are so big as to almost hide all the color of your irises. You’re into this. You’re into the thought of John being there.

Sam pushes his fingers into you again and you drop your head back, moan. You’re warm and tight and wet and Sam pulls his fingers out, stroking them across your front wall when he does. You gasp a little, eyes falling shut. So Sam keeps going. Because what the hell else is he gonna do?

Sam’s not looking at Dean or John, is concentrating only on you, but he can hear their heavy breathing, the only other sounds in the room except for your moans and the wet sounds of him finger-fucking you. He keeps going, watches you climb the hill of pleasure, all the little signs that tell him you’re getting closer. It’s the most sensual display. 

You start moaning loudly, rolling your hips, drop a little lower, the back of your head now resting against Dean’s chest. He still seems frozen but Sam can’t even think about that as he feels you clench down on him, so desperate to be filled more, making his cock twitch and fill, reminding him he’s up for the task. But he wants you to come first, because he loves how strung out you look when he fucks you right after you’ve come.

Which is what you do - legs pulled up, chest heaving, high-pitched whimpers that let Sam know it’s an intense one leaving you. You press yourself down against his hand, even though there’s nothing more he can give you, he’s up to his knuckles and then you slump back, still grinding yourself against him, catching your breath.

He pulls his fingers from you, intent on simply wiping them on the sheet below, but you don’t let him go far. You grab his wrist, bring his hand up to your face and the next second you’re wrapping your lips around him, sucking your juices off of him. Sam groans low in his throat, but just as Dean raises his hands, suddenly freed from his stupor, cups your breasts, there’s another sound.

It’s another groan, and it comes from John. You must notice too because you blink your eyes open, lids low, and turn your head to look at him again.

Sam sees your eyes roam John's body and then stop at what is clearly a growing bulge in his jeans. A small smile twitches on your lips and then you turn back to Sam, look into his eyes.

He could say no. He could cut this all off here. You’d definitely be disappointed, but he’s pretty sure you wouldn’t hold it against him - it’s a lot to ask, after all. Sam knows that, you know it, Dean knows it. The question is if John knows it too. Only one way to find out, Sam thinks. Because he wants to give you this. Wants to see you turned inside out from everything he's given you. 

So he nods slowly. Your eyes widen, and Sam likes that, likes that you maybe sort of expected him to stop there, let that be it. That he can still surprise you like that. Then the biggest smile spreads on your face as you give a small nod back.

You push yourself up, feet landing on the ground and then you stand. You’re naked and Sam sees John’s eyes roam over you, taking in everything from your soft skin to your glistening thighs to your flushed chest. His throat contracts as he swallows.

You step close to him, and then land your hand on his chest. It travels up, slowly, all the way to his face. John’s not exactly clean-shaven but he’s been more groomed for a while now. Sam wonders if he’s trying to look younger.

“You should really grow this out,” you say in a low, sultry voice, fingertips scratching over John’s stubble. “I think it would look really sexy.” John takes a sharp breath through his nose.

“I’ve been trying to get your boys to let theirs grow too,” you say, fingers moving to John’s neck while he looks down at you like he’s about ready to tear you apart, especially when you lean in a little for what you say next. “I like the way it feels when they’re… down there.”

John clenches his jaw, and Sam has to give it to his father. He would have already grabbed you and pushed himself inside of you. Your hand wanders lower again, over the row of buttons of John’s shirt and then your fingers are catching on the buckle of his belt.

“I wonder if you look the same as them,” you just say, and then John’s hand shoots up, wrapping around your wrist.

“Is this some kind of game?” he presses out through gritted teeth. Paranoid idiot, Sam thinks. He can’t ever believe it when something good happens. He swallows when he realizes the similarity to himself.

“No games,” you say, your second hand going up and cupping John’s crotch, at which he takes another sharp breath. “I promise.”

John waits one more second, then lets go of your wrist. It’s all the encouragement you need. You open his belt and then his jeans, practiced and fast, and then you go down to your knees. You lick your lips as you take John out of his pants. You stick your tongue out then, give it a cursory lick which makes John’s breathing shudder.

You don’t waste any time. You wrap your lips around the head of John’s cock, begin slowly bobbing back and forth. Sam knows the feeling exactly - how wet your mouth is, how soft your lips. That moan that leaves you right then, low in your throat, he knows what the vibrations of it feel like traveling through him. He feels his own cock twitch, throws a careful look at Dean. He’s been deadly quiet, but he is watching with the same rapt attention. Fuck it, Sam thinks, all or nothing. His hand wanders down his body and he gives himself a few tugs. No shame or horror comes after, so he keeps going, especially when your mouth makes a pornographic wet sound. 

John’s eyes have fallen shut, and just then his hand goes to the back of your head, fingers twisting into your hair. You’re using one hand to stroke him at the same time, pulling all that pleasure from him, and you don’t stop the movement when you move your mouth off him, look up. John blinks his eyes open, looks down at you.

“You taste so nice, Mr. Winchester,” you say, voice a little raw, and it makes Sam feel the good kind of dizzy. Maybe he should have you call him that, too, he thinks, before he almost laughs at himself. Maybe something for another time. 

You run your tongue along John, keep stroking him, before looking up again.

“Wonder if you would feel as nice inside me?” you ask, voice almost innocent, like you’re talking about the weather. It makes the whole thing that much more illicit.

“Fuck,” John curses, low and breathless. He reaches down, grabs your shoulder and for a second Sam wonders if he should intervene, but then he sees John is spinning you around.

“On all fours, sweetheart,” he pants and you immediately comply. “Let me see your sweet ass.” 

You’re grinning and biting your lip and Sam almost shakes his head in wonder. At how you’ve, once again, tided over the raging egos of all three men in this house. How you play them all like a fiddle and they don’t even notice.

John gets down on his knees behind you, and suddenly he seems frantic, hurried almost. One hand is on your ass, squeezing it, while he’s stroking himself with the other. Then John leans in closer and he must press himself into you, because just then your eyes fall shut and your mouth open.

“Oh fuck,” you moan as John makes a hissing sound. Sam can’t blame him. It’s how he felt when he entered you for the first time ever. He saw the look on Dean’s face, too. He couldn’t explain it if somebody paid him good money to, but there’s a before and after, and they are all in the after now.

John groans when he’s all the way seated inside of you, pushes against you as if testing and a joyful gasp leaves you. Sam tightens his grip where he’s stroking himself slowly. He’s pretty sure he can see out of the corner of his eye that Dean is doing the same. 

John’s hand snakes up your back, reveling in the feeling of your skin, until he finds your shoulder. Once he’s got a good hold on you, he pulls out a little before slamming himself back into you.

The sound you make is one of the best ones Sam has ever heard. It kind of sounds like you’ve hurt your tailbone, but it’s ecstatic. John pulls out again, then pushes himself into you again and then he’s found a rhythm.

It’s deep and hard and might worry Sam if he didn’t know that’s exactly what you like. There’s a loud slapping noise of skin meeting skin every time John thrusts into you and your whimpering isn’t dying down. You have your eyes closed and eyebrows drawn up, more uncontrolled sounds leaving you.

“So thick,” you pant out, apparently not able to form a full sentence. John pulls you back, making himself crash into you even harder, breathing hard, face in a snarl.

“Think I’m the only one in this house who doesn’t get a taste?” he grunts, also only half making sense. “Think you could keep this sweet, little pussy from me?”

You might have answered but exactly in that moment, your body begins shaking, trembling, as John fucks you into an intense orgasm. You’re gasping and whining, the climax long. It’s all Sam can take. 

He stands, walks over to you and gets on his knees in front of you. He’s pretty sure John throws him an angry look, but he doesn’t care. You must notice the movement because you open your eyes, just barely able to blink them open and Sam’s just barely assumed the position when one of the hands holding you up immediately goes to his cock, begins stroking him.

Dean’s the last to join, and if Sam had any part of his brain left that was able to think, he wouldn’t be surprised at that. Following Sam’s lead but not wanting to get into the way of John are his two major motivators. He kneels next to Sam and you lower your head, take his cock into your mouth where he’s offering it to you.

It’s uncoordinated and messy, but seeing you like this, so utterly ravished and unleashed - Sam’s never felt anything like it. He’s pretty sure this is what it’s like for people who have crazy religious experiences. He’s seeing the light or whatever. All words are lost on him.

John groans loudly as his head goes up, eyes squeezed shut, movement of his hips stuttering and it takes Sam a moment to understand he just came inside you. His head drops forward again, eyes still closed.

Sam could come in your hand or move your chin so he can come in your mouth. It’s not where he wants it, though. 

A surprised yelp leaves you when he wraps an arm around you, pulls you towards him, off John’s and Dean’s cocks.

“Sam–” his father growls, warning, but Sam doesn’t care. John’s not the one who gets to call the shots here - you and Sam are, and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die if he isn’t inside of you within the next seconds.

He wants to get you to the bed, make you more comfortable, but it’s simply not an option right then. So he maneuvers you on your back, slots between your legs immediately. Your hands shoots between your bodies at the same time Sam’s does, but you’re quicker despite your fucked-out state. You find him, hard and leaking, lead him to your entrance. All Sam has to do is push forwards his hips.

He does, and then he’s in heaven. You cry out, and Sam leans down on his elbows, kisses you hard. At the same time he starts snapping his hips, pistoning against you. You moan loudly, wrap your arms around him, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

“Oh yes, baby,” you whine, your voice loud and clear in his head with how close your mouth is to his ear. Sam can feel his orgasm coming, can feel it creeping up his spine and as much as he wants nothing more than to fill you up with his come, he’s taken you high now and he’s not about to drop you.

So he changes his angle just a little, and it makes your head fall back, your neck stretch and only a second later, he feels the contractions, the squeezing, the almost painful bliss of feeling you come. 

You cry out, unintelligible words leaving you and Sam can hear Dean groan behind him, curse as he probably shoots into his hand, as if it’s him that can feel you squeezing him, not his brother. 

That’s the last thing Sam thinks. Because a second later, he thinks he nearly goes blind from how hard he comes. He shoots into you, spurts and spurts of it as his brain feels like it’s being rebooted.

He slumps forward, his body covering yours, as he pants like he just sprinted from one end of town to the other. You’re running your hands over his back, gently, and it’s all he feels, all he ever wants to feel. 

It feels like an eternity until he finally pushes himself up again. He’s softening and when he moves far enough to slip out of you, he looks down to between your legs. His and John’s come is leaking out of you and you cup your pussy, wincing but only for a second.

“I am gonna be so sore tomorrow,” you say, and then a goofy little giggle leaves you. Sam’s surprised when he sees Dean’s hand appear in his line of sight, holding a handful of tissues. Sam takes them, takes some to run along himself while he passes you the rest.

“Worth it though, huh?” Dean asks, tone cheeky and you grin up at him.

“Definitely worth it,” you reply and Sam can’t help the huff that escapes him.

All of you turn when you hear John move. He’s just closing his belt, not looking at any of you. His face is grave and set.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he says, voice low and raw. Don’t do this, Sam thinks, feeling a twinge in his chest. Don’t ruin this. Not this too.

“This was a misunderstanding,” John says, still not looking at any of you. “It’s… this is just…”

What? Sam thinks. Wrong? Perverted? Not normal? Maybe it’s not. But he doesn’t care. He opens his mouth but, once again, you’re quicker.

“I was actually hoping we could do this again, Mr. Winchester,” you say, and everyone turns to you. “It would be a real shame if this was a one-off.” 

John looks at you, his lips slightly moving. Sam’s not sure what it is, but there’s something on his father’s face he’s never seen before. To his surprise, it’s Dean who drags all of you out of the stalemate. He snorts, then chuckles and Sam turns to him.

“Just…” Dean says, shaking his head. “Mr. Winchester? I think we’re a little past the formalities at this point.” You chuckle too. 

Sam looks back at his father. For a second, he thinks he’s gonna double down. But then John sighs, runs a hand over his face.

“I need a drink,” he says. You shrug, smiling at him.

“I need a shower,” you say, holding John’s gaze. “And then a drink.” John looks back at you, and there’s that expression again. Soft, intimate. Open.

You break the eye contact and look up at Sam. His heart warms at it as you reach out your hand and he takes it, helps you stand. For a second, you’re unsteady on your legs so Sam slings his arms around you, holds you and you hug him back. He closes his eyes, hears John move, heavy boots leaving the room and then Dean is moving somewhere around you and him, mumbling something about grabbing a shower before you use up all the hot water. 

Sam barely hears it. His face is pressed into your hair, because it’s the only way he can hide the grin building on his face. 

[empressdede]

No Limit

Introducing Imani and Sefa. Two college students who spent years at odds with each other. After a crazy night at a frat party, they show their relationships have no limit.

Pairing: Sefa x Imani

Word count: 4,387

This is a oneshot😭 maybe if the creative juices get flowing, a two shot but for now. A ONE SHOT😂

Imani had never met a more insufferable human being in her life than Sefa Fatu.

Unfortunately, she was forced to tolerate him thanks to their mutual friends, who for some reason saw no issue with his presence. Every group outing, every study session, every damn game night—he was always there, breathing the same air as her, making some smart-ass comment that set her blood boiling.

Like now.

“Damn, Imani, you always dress like you’re about to be on a runway. I don’t see nobody rushing to sign you.”

Sefa leaned back in his seat, arms crossed as his dark eyes flicked over her outfit. She was wearing a fitted brown crop top, high-waisted jeans, and her favorite gold hoops. Stylish? Yes. But why the hell was he commenting?

“And you always dress like you just woke up from a nap,” Imani shot back, eyeing his oversized hoodie and joggers. “Oh wait—maybe that’s because you never put effort into anything.”

Their friends—Sapphire, Jaden, and Malik—exchanged looks, already sensing where this was headed.

Sefa let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “What’s wrong, Imani? Daddy didn’t tell you, you were pretty today? Feeling a little insecure?”

Imani scoffed. “Daddy still comparing you to the twins?”

Jaden whistled lowly. “Here we go again.”

“I swear, y’all argue like an old married couple,” Malik added, laughing as he reached for his fries. “Why don’t y’all just hook up and get it over with?”

“Excuse me?” Imani and Sefa said in unison, both turning to glare at Malik.

Malik threw his hands up in surrender. “Damn, my bad. Just saying.”

Sapphire, ever the peacemaker, sighed. “Can we go one lunch without you two fighting?”

“Tell Sefa to shut up and we might have a chance,” Imani muttered, stabbing her fork into her salad with unnecessary force.

Sefa smirked. “You’d miss me if I shut up.”

She gave him a deadpan stare. “I’d rather eat a jean jacket dry than miss you.”

Laughter erupted at the table, but Sefa just grinned like he lived to get under her skin. And maybe he did.

Because no matter how much Imani hated to admit it, he always knew exactly how to piss her off.

⸻

There was never a moment of peace when Sefa was around.

Imani had learned to expect it, like clockwork. If their friend group was doing something together, he would find a way to make her life hell.

Like last week when they had a movie night, and he kept making dumbass comments during the film just to annoy her.

Or the time they went bowling, and he “accidentally” knocked over her drink with his ridiculous victory dance.

Or today, when they were supposed to be meeting at the library for a study session, and Sefa showed up late, strolling in like he had all the time in the world.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Imani muttered as he dropped into the seat across from her.

Sefa smirked, completely unbothered. “Damn, you missed me that much?”

“I missed the peace and quiet before you got here.”

“Cute. You thinking about me when I’m not around?”

Imani exhaled through her nose, gripping her pen so tightly she thought it might snap. “I’m thinking about how much better my GPA would be if I didn’t have to waste brain cells talking to you.”

Sefa let out a low chuckle, flipping open his textbook. “Then stop talking to me. But you can’t, can you?” He tilted his head, smug. “You just love hearing my voice.”

“Yeah,” Imani deadpanned. “Like people love hearing nails on a chalkboard.”

Sapphire groaned. “Guys. Please. We’re here to study, not flirt.”

Imani choked. “Flirt?”

Sefa snorted. “She wishes.”

“You wish,” Imani shot back. “But keep dreaming, Sefa.”

Malik, who had been watching their back-and-forth like it was a damn tennis match, shook his head. “Y’all got some serious tension.”

Imani ignored that. She wasn’t going to entertain whatever ridiculous idea Malik was cooking up in his head. Because the only thing between her and Sefa was mutual disdain.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

Right?

The night of the frat party arrived, and Imani wasn’t even sure why she agreed to come.

Well, she knew why. Sapphire had practically begged her to get out of the dorm for once, promising a good time and free drinks. And after the stress of the week, Imani figured she deserved a little fun.

She had no idea she’d regret that decision.

David, who was charming, good-looking, and knew how to dance. She hadn’t planned on getting caught up with anyone, but after two drinks and a song that had a beat too good to resist, she had found herself moving with him, their bodies pressed close as they swayed together.

He was smooth. Hands lingering just enough to make her pulse quicken, lips close to her ear as he spoke over the music.

“You’re a good dancer,” he murmured.

“So are you,” she admitted.

“Come upstairs with me,” he said suddenly.

Imani hesitated. The invitation was casual, but there was something in his eyes that made her uneasy.

“I should probably stay down here,” she said, trying to play it off lightly.

David’s grip on her waist tightened just a little. “Come on, just for a minute.”

Before she could respond, a new voice cut through the music.

“She said no.”

Sefa.

Imani turned her head, her stomach twisting at the sight of him standing behind her. His expression was sharp, his usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen.

David frowned. “Mind your business, man.”

Sefa stepped closer, eyes locked on David. “She is my business.”

Imani’s breath caught.

David scoffed, letting go of her with an annoyed grunt. “Whatever.” He turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Sefa didn’t look at her right away. His jaw was tense, like he was trying to keep himself from saying something reckless.

Imani crossed her arms, ignoring the way her heart was still racing. “I didn’t need you to do that.”

Sefa finally met her gaze, and for once, there was no teasing in his eyes. Just something dark. Something protective.

“You sure about that?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

Because the truth was—she wasn’t.

But Imani was pissed.

Pissed that David had tried to pressure her upstairs. Pissed that Sefa had intervened like she couldn’t handle herself. Pissed that—even now, standing outside on the porch to clear her head—her hands were still shaking.

And most of all, pissed that Sefa was here too, standing beside her like he had every right to.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, staring out at the partygoers stumbling across the lawn.

Sefa exhaled, running a hand through his short curls. “Didn’t ask if you weren’t.”

She clenched her jaw, hating how he was just there, all steady and frustratingly calm, like he hadn’t just swooped in like some kind of savior.

“What the hell was that back there?” she demanded, turning to face him. “You think you’re my bodyguard now?”

Sefa didn’t flinch. “I think you needed someone to step in.”

Imani scoffed. “Oh, and that someone had to be you?”

“Clearly, since no one else was paying attention.”

Her chest burned with irritation. He was acting like she was some helpless girl who needed rescuing, and it infuriated her.

“You don’t get to play the hero,” she snapped. “Especially not when you spend most of your time making my life miserable.”

Sefa’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smirk—too tight, too unreadable. “Yeah? And yet, here we are.”

Something about the way he said it made her stomach flip, and she hated that.

She folded her arms, lifting her chin. “I had it under control.”

Sefa took a step closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that she felt the shift in space between them. The warmth of his presence. The weight of his stare.

“Did you?” His voice was lower now, calmer. “Because from where I was standing, you were looking for a way out.”

Imani sucked in a sharp breath, but she couldn’t argue. Because the truth was—he wasn’t wrong.

But she didn’t want to owe him anything. Didn’t want him thinking she needed him.

Sefa watched her, like he could see the battle raging in her head. Then, to her absolute shock, he reached out—slow, deliberate—and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

It was so unexpected, so gentle, that her breath caught.

“You don’t have to say thank you,” he murmured. “Just… be careful, yeah?”

And just like that, he stepped back, hands slipping into his pockets as he walked back inside, leaving Imani standing there, heart pounding.

What the hell just happened?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The problem was, after that night, Imani couldn’t stop thinking about Sefa.

It was annoying. He was annoying. But now, there was something else sitting between them. Something unspoken.

Like when they saw each other at the campus coffee shop a few days later, and for the first time, he didn’t have some snarky comment ready. He just looked at her, gave her a nod, and went back to his drink.

Or when they were all hanging out at Sapphire’s place, and instead of throwing jabs at each other, he just… sat next to her. Close enough that she could smell his cologne, feel the warmth of him.

She hated how much she noticed it.

She hated that, for the first time, she wasn’t sure where they stood.

And worst of all?

She wasn’t sure she hated him anymore.

Imani should have known better than to let Sapphire talk her into another party.

After what happened at the last one, she had sworn off frat houses for the rest of the semester. But somehow, she found herself back in a dimly lit, overly crowded living room, sipping from a red cup and pretending she wasn’t hyperaware of him.

Sefa.

He was across the room, laughing with Jaden and Malik, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. But every time Imani glanced in his direction, she caught him doing the same.

And it pissed her off.

Not because of their usual rivalry. But because she hadn’t stopped thinking about him since that damn night.

“Yo, let’s make this party interesting,” Malik called out suddenly, dragging a chair to the center of the room. “Spin the bottle. Who’s in?”

Loud cheers erupted, and before Imani could say hell no, Sapphire was already pulling her down to sit in the circle forming on the floor.

“Oh, come on,” Imani groaned. “We are not in high school.”

Sapphire grinned. “Relax, it’s just a game.”

Imani highly doubted that.

One by one, people took turns spinning, laughing and cheering as random couples were forced to kiss. Some were quick pecks, others were… not.

And then it was Imani’s turn.

“Alright, let’s see who she gets!” someone called out.

She rolled her eyes but reached for the bottle, giving it a hard spin. It twirled rapidly, blurring in motion, until finally—it slowed.

Imani’s stomach twisted the second she saw where it landed.

Sefa.

The room erupted in chaos.

“No way!”

“Y’all got beef, this should be interesting.”

“Oh, they gotta do it now.”

Imani’s jaw clenched as she met Sefa’s eyes across the circle. He looked just as tense as she felt.

“Damn, this is about to be good,” Malik chuckled.

Jaden grinned. “C’mon, rules are rules. Let’s go, Fatu.”

Sefa exhaled through his nose before pushing up from the floor, standing over Imani. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his dark eyes.

Something that made her pulse race.

She swallowed hard. “We don’t have to—”

“Yeah, we do,” he murmured.

And then, before she could think, before she could process, before she could tell herself this was a horrible idea—

Sefa leaned down and kissed her.

The moment their lips met, a shock ran down Imani’s spine. She had expected it to be quick, forced, like they were just getting it over with.

But it wasn’t.

His lips were warm, firm, and the second she let out the smallest gasp of surprise, he deepened it, just slightly, just enough to make the world tilt.

Her fingers curled into the fabric of her jeans. She was not supposed to like this.

And yet—

The hoots and cheers around them barely registered as heat flooded her veins.

Sefa pulled back first, just a breath away, his gaze heavy-lidded. His voice was quiet, low enough that only she could hear.

“Didn’t expect that, did you?”

Imani’s chest rose and fell, her heartbeat slamming against her ribs.

No. No, she didn’t.

And that was the problem.

Imani needed to get the hell out of there.

The second the game moved on, she pushed to her feet, ignoring Sapphire’s questioning look and the way her heart was still pounding. She grabbed her bag and shoved through the crowd, heading for the door like she could escape what just happened.

Like she could escape him.

But the moment she stepped onto the sidewalk, she heard footsteps behind her.

“Imani.”

Her whole body tensed.

Of course he followed her.

She didn’t stop. Didn’t turn around. “Go back inside, Sefa.”

His voice was closer now. “And leave you walking home alone at night? Yeah, no.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

She snapped then, whirling around to face him. “Oh, and how the hell am I supposed to look after that?”

Sefa stared at her, his expression unreadable, but his breathing was heavier now. His hands were shoved into his pockets like he was trying to keep himself from reaching for something.

Or someone.

“You’re acting like we just committed a crime,” he said lowly.

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “It was a crime.”

Sefa raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What kind?”

She clenched her fists. “One against my sanity.”

Silence stretched between them, thick and charged.

Then, to her absolute fury, Sefa smirked.

“You liked it.”

Imani’s mouth opened, ready to deny it, but nothing came out.

Because she had.

And the fact that he knew it? That he was looking at her like he could still feel the kiss on his lips?

It made her want to scream.

Instead, she turned on her heel and started walking again.

Sefa followed, of course.

“Why are you still here?” she muttered.

“Because,” he said, voice too damn casual, “I wanna know why you’re running.”

“I’m not running,” she snapped.

He let out a low hum. “Sure looks like it.”

Imani stopped in her tracks so suddenly that he almost bumped into her.

She glared up at him. “You think everything is a damn game, don’t you?”

Sefa’s smirk faded. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, he looked just as frustrated as she felt.

“I think you’re scared.”

Her breath hitched.

Because he was right.

But she’d rather die than admit it.

So instead, she stepped closer—so close their bodies almost brushed, so close she could feel the heat radiating off him.

And she tilted her chin up defiantly. “You wish I was scared of you.”

Sefa’s eyes darkened. His tongue flicked across his bottom lip, slow, deliberate.

“Oh, I don’t think you’re scared of me.” His voice was lower now, rougher. “I think you’re scared of what happens if you stop hating me.”

Imani’s pulse slammed in her throat.

Because he was too close.

Because he smelled too good.

Because his voice was wrecking every last bit of control she had left.

And the worst part?

She didn’t know if she even wanted to stop him.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

Sefa didn’t let her walk home alone.

He didn’t say anything at first, just fell into step beside her, matching her pace like he belonged there. Like he had every right to be next to her after what just happened.

Imani’s nerves were shot. Her skin still tingled from that damn kiss, her pulse wouldn’t settle, and he was too damn close.

“You don’t have to do this,” she muttered, staring straight ahead.

“Yeah, I do,” Sefa said simply.

And that made something snap inside her.

She stopped walking, turning to face him on the empty sidewalk. “Why?” she demanded. “Why do you care? You hate me, remember?”

Sefa just stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “You really believe that?”

Imani let out a frustrated breath, shoving a hand through her curls. “You spend all your time annoying the hell out of me, trying to get under my skin—”

“Yeah,” he cut in, stepping closer. “And you let me.”

Her chest rose and fell sharply. “Because you piss me off.”

Sefa’s lips quirked, but it wasn’t his usual cocky smirk. It was something else. Something darker.

“Funny,” he murmured. “Because I think the way I make you feel isn’t just anger.”

Imani’s breath caught.

Because he was right.

Because the air between them was thick, charged with something they had been dancing around for too long.

Because she felt it—every time they fought, every time they challenged each other, every time he looked at her like this.

And now, there was nothing stopping them. No one around. No excuses left.

Sefa reached out, slow, deliberate, giving her the chance to pull away.

She didn’t.

His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her chin up slightly. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured.

Imani’s heart slammed against her ribs.

She should. She should say it.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she did the one thing she had been trying so damn hard to resist.

She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down, crashing her lips against his.

Sefa groaned low in his throat, his hands sliding to her waist, gripping tight as he pressed her back against the brick wall of a building.

The kiss wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was all heat, all frustration, all the built-up tension that had been brewing between them for months.

His lips moved against hers with a hunger that made her knees weak, his body pressing into hers like he couldn’t get close enough.

Imani’s fingers fisted in his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer, and Sefa growled, his teeth grazing her bottom lip before deepening the kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, and he swallowed it, his grip tightening like he didn’t want to let go.

And the worst part?

She didn’t either.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard, Sefa rested his forehead against hers.

“Still think I hate you?” he murmured.

Imani’s fingers were still tangled in his shirt, her lips swollen, her body on fire.

She swallowed, trying to gather a single rational thought.

“I think…” she whispered. “We’re in a lot of trouble.”

Sefa chuckled, low and rough, his thumb brushing over her hip.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We are.”

⸻

The air between them was thick—charged with something neither of them could take back.

Imani’s fingers were still tangled in Sefa’s shirt, her pulse still thrumming against the heat of his body pressed into hers.

This was dangerous.

This was reckless.

But when she met his eyes—dark, burning, hungry—she knew there was no turning back.

She exhaled, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Come inside.”

Sefa didn’t hesitate.

⸻

The moment the door to her dorm clicked shut, everything snapped.

Sefa was on her. His lips crashed into hers again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no restraint.

Imani moaned as his hands roamed, gripping her hips, pressing her back against the door. Her fingers slid under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin, the hard muscles beneath.

Sefa cursed under his breath, grabbing her thighs and lifting her effortlessly. She wrapped her legs around his waist, letting him carry her toward the bed, never once breaking the kiss.

This wasn’t just a kiss anymore.

This was months of tension exploding all at once.

This was a fight they had both lost.

And neither of them cared.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the streetlight filtering through the blinds, casting gentle shadows over the bed. The air was thick, filled with nothing but the sound of ragged breaths and the rustle of sheets as they shifted closer.

Imani felt the weight of Sefa above her, the heat of his body pressing into hers. There was still a barrier between them—fabric, skin, hesitation. But it was quickly fading, slowly being replaced by something more consuming.

Sefa’s hands were on her waist, just barely skimming the edges of her shirt before moving back to her hips, as if he was waiting for permission, as if he didn’t want to cross a line she hadn’t drawn yet. She could feel him hesitating, as much as she was.

But neither of them wanted to pull away.

Her fingertips traced his jaw, the roughness of his stubble under her touch making her breath catch. Sefa’s eyes were half-closed, his mouth slightly parted, his chest rising and falling in time with hers.

“I don’t want to stop,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

His lips twitched, but he didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he leaned down, pressing his lips softly against her neck, kissing the sensitive skin there with slow, deliberate affection.

Imani’s back arched instinctively, chasing the touch, wanting more, needing more. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer, silently begging him to keep going.

Sefa groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, vibrating against her skin as he moved lower. His lips brushed across her collarbone, his hands sliding up the sides of her shirt to touch the bare skin of her stomach. His fingertips were warm, and his touch was careful, almost reverent, as if every inch of her body was something he needed to savor, to memorize.

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” he muttered against her skin. His voice was strained, thick with unspoken desire.

Imani’s heart raced as her hands slid down his back, fingers tracing the muscles there, feeling the way his body shifted under her touch. Her breath caught when his hands finally slid beneath her shirt, moving higher, just brushing the underside of her breasts before sliding back down.

Sefa’s hands weren’t in a hurry. They didn’t need to be. They were taking their time, letting the tension between them build, building something that felt like it could tear them apart if they didn’t do something about it.

Imani shifted beneath him, her hips rocking forward just enough to create a friction that shot through her core, making her gasp softly.

“Jesus,” Sefa murmured, his eyes dark as he looked down at her, his voice low and rough. “Do you feel that?”

Imani nodded, her breath quickening as she moved against him again, desperately trying to feel more. The heat between them was unbearable, the thin layer of clothing that separated them nothing more than a reminder of what they couldn’t yet do.

But the hunger, the need was undeniable.

Sefa groaned as she moved against him again, this time a little more insistently, her hands pushing against his chest as she worked to get closer, to feel the full pressure of his body against hers. His body tensed under her touch, and he responded, his hips moving in slow, deliberate circles, matching the rhythm of hers.

Everything in the room felt charged, as if the very air between them was crackling with need.

Sefa’s lips hovered over hers for a moment, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. He hesitated, just for a fraction of a second, as if he was waiting for her to pull away or say something, but she didn’t.

Instead, she kissed him—slow, deep, desperate. Her hands slid down his chest, fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans, feeling the heat of him through the fabric, desperate to feel more.

He let out a low groan as he pulled away from the kiss, looking at her with dark eyes.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered, his voice raw.

Imani’s pulse raced as she pulled him back to her, lips crashing against his again. The need to be close to him was overwhelming, too much to resist. She didn’t care that they hadn’t crossed that final line, that they hadn’t completely given in. The tension, the frustration, the need to explore each other—it was too much.

Her body moved against his in a rhythm that felt almost natural, like this was where they were supposed to be, where they had always been meant to be. The feeling of him against her, his hands sliding over her skin, his mouth tracing the path down her neck—it was enough to make her forget everything but him.

Sefa’s hands moved lower, gripping the hem of her shorts, tugging them down just enough to expose more of her skin. She gasped, the air catching in her lungs, her hands immediately reaching for his jeans, her fingers trembling as she undid them.

But just before they could get any further, Sefa stopped her. He pulled back, just far enough to look at her, his breathing heavy.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

Imani’s chest heaved as she stared into his eyes. She was so close, so close, but she didn’t want to rush it. Didn’t want to let the moment slip away.

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she slid her hands down his chest, her lips trailing over his throat, feeling the frantic pulse there, and then she moved her body just enough, grinding into him slowly, letting the pressure build again, letting him feel the heat between them without fully giving in.

Sefa’s breath hitched. “God, I want you so bad.”

Imani’s eyes met his, her hands resting on his shoulders as she held him close. She could feel the hunger in his voice, in his touch, but there was something else too. Something more delicate, something unspoken.

They weren’t ready to cross that final line yet. But every inch of their bodies told the other that they were getting there. That they wanted each other more than they were willing to admit.

They were both holding back, but neither of them was going anywhere.

Y’all feeling this? I thought it was eh, but lmk😭❤️

VIP TAGLIST : @wrestlingprincess80 @whatdoeseverybodywant @pr0tost4r @paigereeder @alyyaanna @raya-hunter01 @mzv11 @trippinsorrows @partypoison00 @isabella-2025 @jstarr86 @chrisevanswife0405 @fearlesschimera @cyberdejos2 @whowrotethenote @potatosackk @ajaxcleaningsupplies @sayyestoheav3nn @chasssssworld @christinabae @glittergirl7 @itskii01 @fame-ass-ers @li-da-savage @ashykneee @kianaleani @holisticcoach @pittieprincess22 @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amandairene88 @luvrsluxe

[belladonazeppole]

The Good Place AU

Meet the residents of The Neighborhood 110621A

Violet "Vi" Lane: A underground fighter.

Why is she in the bad place? While she did what she needed to survive in the eyes of the system she doesn't deserve to be in the good place.

Caitlyn Kiramman: Commander of Piltover Police.

Why is she in the bad place? A lot of police brutality happend in her time as commander and use chemical weapons agaisnt a whole city (Zaun).

Jayce Talis: The CEO of Hextech Industries and politician in Piltover.

Why is he in the bad place? All the contamination that Hextech produce was his fault and he did create a lot of weapons, become a corrupt politician and he was so laser focus in his goals that never realize all the people that he hurt.

Mel Medarda: The Heiress of the Medarda Family and an important politician in Piltover.

Why is she in the bad place? All her "good deeds" never came of a genuine place just as display to prove her mother wrong, also she did have a lack of empathy for other people (the closest one to a character in the show) and she was also a corrupt politician maybe not the worst but her actions still screw over people.

All the humans have really embarrassing deaths in the show. So what do you guys think how did they died?

Meet the administration!

The Arquitect!

"Silco": Not the real Silco, that one is in the real bad place, but a demon that took the form of Silco since he was a person that is related to all of the characters that intervine in their lives either directly or indirectly, so having to deal with him as a "good guy" is a hit to their pride.

Still unsure if he takes the form of young Silco or the one of the good timeline.

Viktoria: She would take the place of Janet in these AU. I'll would be her journey of becoming more human and discovering her new emotions. She's a "faulty" model so she needs her cane.

Bad Viktoria would be The Machine Herald.

She create Jayce Giopara in a moment of jealousy.

The quotes that inspired this AU!

Vi: I've only ever said "I love you" to two men my entire life, my dad and a guy in a fight club who I mistook for my dad.

.

Jayce: Okay, I've made my decision. I want to, start crying.

.

Mel: I just want to sit, stare at nothing, and silently scream for the rest of time.

.

Jayce: I am in paradise! I should be doing paradise things, like working in my lab with a good bottle of wine, doing math.

Vi: That's your idea of paradise?

.

Silco, discovers that Jayce and Viktoria are having sex: Whoa! You two are sleeping together?

Jayce, flustered: Only when we're done having sex.

.

Silco: I'm an immortal being with abilities you can only dream-

Vi: Yeah and we're an Zaun dirtbag, a rich unhinged mongoose, a narcissistic monster, and literally the smartest and dumbest person I've ever met.

Jayce: ...Eat shit Vi!

.

*After a reboot*

Viktoria, about Mel and Jayce: But I am happy for them. I am. I am. Am I? I am. I am not. I am not. I am not that. I am not happy for them.

[shallowseeker]

i love that steve yockey wrote michael's dialogue like that, "i'm gonna write the opposite of what dean thinks for every character in order to hurt them" which means you can reverse everything he says and learn his true feelings about each character. genius.

I think this is definitely a clever part of the writing. (Yay Yockey!)

Michael is good at twisting things to create a diversion/undermine his enemies. (Maybe even better at it than Lucifer, heh.)

I think another part is that AU Michael understands absolutes better than duality. He’s picks out and amplifies the negatives. I’m reminded of Cas’s line in season 9 about human emotion: 

CAS: The ebb and flow of human emotion - Dean, I've been on earth for a few years, and I've only begun to grasp it. 9x09 Heaven Can’t Wait

AU Michael doesn’t grasp it. Not really.

He runs around asking everyone, “What do you want?” and if there’s any complexity at all to that answer, he brands that person/angel “lost,” “weak,” or “unreliable.” This is why he allies himself with vampires at the end of 14x01. Because he can’t comprehend shades of gray or nuance.

Humans feel a billion things every day. Moment to moment. But every fleeting discomfort, every microsecond of frustration, every scrap of resentment or bitterness? To Michael, these get magnified into absolutes. (This is often how demons present their truths: through the most uncharitable interpretations possible.)

///

Loved ones are burdens

A more honest answer might be that our loved ones are, in fact, both beloved and burdensome. We trade strengths and share burdens, but that doesn’t mean they come without weight.

It’s only in relationships that are more figmentary, kept at arm’s length, or those that have ended and become idealized—like memories of people who never truly had a chance to be seen for who they really were—that we see relationships without real baggage.

This is especially true in a world like Supernatural.

///

Dean wasn’t happier without Sam in his life

AU MICHAEL: And, Sam—oh, Sam... You know, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. See, deep down, he knows that you will always abandon him, again and again.

I think it’s probably true that Dean was occasionally relieved when it was just him and Dad, but mostly because it was a break from the turbulence and in-fighting.

At the same time, he felt abandoned by Sam, maybe jealous that Sam reaped all the rewards (education! freedom!) of Dean bearing the family burdens.

Yet, Dean also wanted what was best for Sam and was genuinely happy to see Jessica Moore in his djinn dream. More often than not in the series, Dean encourages Sam toward happiness, though not at the expense of what he perceives is a balanced work-life obligation the people in their lives that depend on them.

But it’s certainly not true that he was happier without Sam, nor that he wished it had been only him and John all the time.

///

Dean’s not with Cas because he “owes” him but because he loves him

AU MICHAEL: You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he "gripped you tight and raised you from Perdition." Or whatever. But since then, what has he done? Only made mistakes, one after the other.

Michael mocks the line about being "gripped tight and pulled from perdition," showing us that this is a line Dean recalls often, perhaps replaying it in his mind over and over.

(AU Michael also coos: “Oh, Cas… I believe in you!” in an earlier scene, and it seems to me that he finds Dean’s emotions a bit… amusing.)

But to my point—maybe the bad parts are a little bit true. Feeling indebted to Cas might be intertwined with Dean’s gratitude, and it’s definitely true that Dean harbors real resentment over Cas’s mistakes. However, Michael can’t completely parse the complexities of Dean’s feelings for Cas. He can’t reconcile the bad with the good. It’s an alien’s perspective.

But Dean… The way Dean talks about love in Optimism shows us that he can handle all the complexities and put them into words. He feels a deep gratitude toward Cas for saving him, and he recognizes that Cas’s mistakes are part of the endurance of real love—not the idealized, immature kind.

Interestingly, while Sam and Jack are visibly shaken by AU Michael’s words, Cas doesn’t seem affected in the same way. Not only does he remain unruffled when he steps in to assure Jack that Michael is “loose with the truth,” but he also quickly picks up on Michael’s barbs as a deliberate strategy—he calls it out: “You’re stalling.”

By saying “Poughkeepsie,” Sam helped Dean break out of his loop of simplistic vampire hunts. But by mouthing off to Michael, it’s Cas who helps Dean rally his self-confidence. Cas's steadfast trust in Dean serves as a source of strength.

I personally think this implies that Cas and Dean have talked through their mistakes more in-depth than we think, even if they haven’t fully discussed their “feelings" per se.

They trust each other, even when they’re feeling completely downtrodden or vulnerable. Even when "their instincts might be screaming otherwise," you know?

///

Finally: Of course Dean loves Jack

We have to remember that AU Michael’s attack is two-fold, here. Unlike with the others, Michael is absolutely seething about Jack turning him down on family bonding time in 14x09 The Spear.

AU MICHAEL: “A moment of familial weakness. It won't happen again."

What Michael probably really wants is to undo the murder of his brother, Lucifer. But Jack is unwilling to become Lucifer’s replacement. So Michael wants to cut Jack as deeply as possible. As punishment.

AU MICHAEL: Like, I know how sad he was when you died… on the outside. On the inside, well, it's not that he was happy— he just didn't care. 'Cause you're not Sam. You're not Cas. You're a new burden that he was handed. You're a weak, helpless thing. You think that they care about you, love you? You're a job, a job none of them wanted.[…]

Ergo, following that mindset, maybe Michael’s a little bit right. Maybe part of Dean does see Jack as "another burden handed to him” and he might even he worried about Jack’s newfound weakness—but it’s also more complicated than that.

And it’s true: Jack isn’t like Sam or Cas, but it’s not because he’s not family. It’s because he’s a different kind of family. While Sam has grown into being a brother, an equal, Jack is and will forever remain wholly “son.” That’s a scarier bond. It doesn’t just come with love but with responsibility, hope, and an undeniable weight.

And as for Jack’s death—while Dean may have initially reacted with emotional numbing and shock, he was devastated. Time has shaped Dean's reaction to grief, and he is trying to do it right:

14x08 Byzantium via @spnscripthunt-inactive

//

Appealing to the “you’re just a burden” is something Zachariah also made good use of in his nightmare-land from Dark Side of the Moon:

ZACH!MARY: I never loved you. You were my burden. I was shackled to you.

5x16 Dark Side of the Moon

///

Oops, I rambled.

Anyhoo, that a wounded Dean echoes any of AU Michael’s words is, to me, a testament to how deep his psychological wounds are (late 14 through season 15).

The series told us over and over again about the psychological ruination that results from being the vessel for an archangel… with many humans implied catatonic afterwards. (The series also spent the majority of season 14 showing us how much being glued to Lucifer wounded Nick...)

But yes, I do love the double-speak in the writing and how it often implies the opposite of what’s being said. That’s so much for bringing this into my ask box!

///

One more bit about indirect dialogue:

I also loved when Dean was hurling word-daggers in at Bobby, Cas, and Sam in 5x18. Dean was mocking his unique relationship with each of his loved ones:

Mocking his belief in Sam’s strength:

DEAN (to SAM): I just…I—I don’t believe […] In you. I mean, I don’t. I don’t know whether it’s gonna be demon blood or some other demon chick or what, but…I do know they're gonna find a way to turn you.

& Pretending he doesn’t see Bobby as a father:

DEAN (to BOBBY): You’re not my father. And you ain’t in my shoes.

& Making light of his deepening feelings with Cas:

DEAN (to CAS): Well, Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid.

/////////////////

Finally, I can’t help that point out that fleeting moments of resentment and even longer moments of being angry/upset/disillusioned with our loved ones isn’t a big, abnormal thing. It’s just very human. And healthy.

(In SPN-world, it’s coded as more concerning when we see the opposite, when characters insist someone is perfect or never lets them down. This is a SPN “poughkeepsie” pattern that I mentally shuttle into the “pure” bucket. See: Harper, Amara, Chuck etc)

///

But fleeting moments of negativity are real. Which is to me what makes Jack’s murder of Mary so very sad:

"Only for a second." :(

[chanelle-lize]

I recently paid for a Worlds Beyond Number Patreon membership, as a little treat, and I've been listening to The Children's Adventure.

That scene in Episode 6, where Lohan the baker offers to help Eursulon learn swordsmanship, and Lou describes what it's like to have "another human being [look] at him and [take] this dream of his seriously," and how exciting but also terrifying that is to experience...

That's it. That's why I had a panic attack when I met Aabria Iyengar.

I didn't get into it in the original post because the event was so recent that I wasn't exactly sure which memories were just heightened emotion and which weren't, but I can now confidently identify when and why the panic attack started. The group of people who were sitting in the front row were the first to gather around Aabria as she sat at the edge of the stage, and I was standing in the second row with @wizard-loving-wizard, staring in the group's general direction as the they parted and moved on. I accidentally made direct eye contact with Aabria through the sudden gap in the crowd and that's when I abruptly looked away and started to panic.

Since I was a child, I've always dreamed of storytelling, performance, and play, and no one I knew ever took that seriously until Ruby offered to pay for me to go to Aabria's masterclass. That was new. So, maybe being perceived by a Black woman who did what I wanted to do for a living while I was still just starting to learn to take that seriously was a bit much for me. I was having an "Eursulon being perceived by Lohan" moment cranked to 11 and I couldn't handle it.

I'm going to go ahead and tag @quiddie again in the hopes that this doesn't get lost in the hoards of Tumblr posts she gets tagged in on a daily basis this time. And, let me be so clear, this isn't a "put me in coach" ass post. That's not why I'm tagging her. Before I went to the masterclass, I had never once played a TTRPG. Seven days after the masterclass, I performed in a D&D one-shot actual play on Twitch for the first time, and now I have two multi-session actual plays and two video editing gigs on deck, with other things in the works with the community of actual play performers I'm finding myself suddenly in cahoots with. That massive mindset shift, that "freight train" I described getting hit by, that was "coach" putting me in. That task has been done.

Actual play is becoming what I do now. This will be what I continue to do until some outside force stops me. And I wouldn't have known I could do this if Ruby had never made it possible for me to meet Aabria Iyengar that night. So, I hope she reads this and gets to see how much meeting her means to me. That's why I'm tagging her. I just want her to know I'm grateful.

Thank you, Aabria.

On Thursday, February 20, 2025, I got hit by a freight train.

Let me explain…

When I saw @wizard-loving-wizard post that Aabria was teaching a free masterclass in Hamilton, Ontario, I was crushed.

I live in Montreal, Quebec, which is a seven-hour drive from Hamilton. Round trip tickets would have cost me ~$200, which would have been perfectly affordable if it wasn’t for the dire financial situation I’ve been in for the last several months. I felt like I was missing out on a dream come true because I was just too much of a fuck up to reach out and take it.

I retreated to my Aabria appreciation post on Discord and vented about my inability to attend the event. Fifteen minutes later, a fellow Aabria fan, who I will refer to as “Ruby” replied, “Tell me how much it costs to get there and back- I will sponsor you.”

I almost immediately refused. They explained that they wanted to pay my way as a birthday present for themself, because they really wanted to see me follow my dreams. So, I decided to look up the current ticket prices. I did my research and learned the most efficient route was to take a bus from Montréal to Toronto, then from Toronto to Hamilton. Four tickets, round trip. Then, I registered to get my ticket for the masterclass, just to make sure I didn’t secure bus tickets only to find that the class had sold out.

I asked around some local social media groups to see what options I had and found someone who was looking to trade a bus ticket from Montreal to Toronto on the exact date of the event. They ended up trading me the ticket in exchange for a faux fur blanket that I forgot I had. Ruby congratulated me for snagging one of the tickets, but reminded me that their offer was still available.

I kept looking, in the hopes that I would eventually find a way to get from Toronto to Hamilton, and then back home again without having to accept freely-given financial support (no, I don't have a therapist, why do you ask?), but I had no such luck. I felt like I was on a perpetual roller coaster of hope and disappointment, but every time I got discouraged, I hummed “Impossible” from Rogers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella to myself – the Brandy and Whitney Houston rendition, specifically – and kept going.

On Wednesday, I had to accept that I probably would not be finding any more bus tickets on my own, so I thanked Ruby for reiterating the offer and told them how much I needed for the remaining three tickets. They sent me $200 regardless.

I bought the rest of the tickets and left for Toronto at 6:30 am Thursday morning.

On the way to Toronto, I got a Spill notification (Spill is a Black-owned social media app) reminding me about the weekly “Advanced Audacity” lecture series I had signed up for. It suddenly hit me that, last Thursday, I had said that I simply didn't have the funds to achieve my dreams. Naya, the audacity coach running the lecture series (yes, audacity coach) asked me what dream I didn’t have the funds for, and I said “becoming a performer/storyteller in the TTRPG space.” And there I was on a bus to McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario to watch Aabria Iyengar teach a D&D storytelling masterclass, exactly seven days later.

Wild.

I got to the venue safely and settled in for the show. It was phenomenal, unsurprisingly. Aabria was joined on stage by four local D&D players, one of whom was a Black woman named Renée. Aabria began by giving a short talk on storytelling within the context of D&D (and the sociocultural implications that come with it), before spending the rest of the show DMing a brilliantly thrilling one-shot. I took notes throughout the entire event and had a lot of fun writing speculative marginalia about the thought-process behind her storytelling choices and jotting down the insights she shared as she paused to explain why she was doing something the way she was doing it.

I was also particularly struck by Bubbles, Renée's unsettlingly over-friendly Tiefling character. At some point, I leaned over to @wizard-loving-wizard (who I met and got to sit next to at the event) and whispered, “Bubbles is the Tabby to my Evan Kelmp.”

After the show, Aabria sat on the edge of the stage to chat with audience members, and my wildest dream of being able to nerd out about storytelling with Aabria Iyengar… was immediately shattered when she looked over at me and I reacted like Troy Barnes meeting LeVar Burton. I broke eye contact and starred at the ground, absolutely furious with myself. Thankfully, I remembered that I wanted to ask Aabria to record a video message for Ruby, so I did end up meeting her.

I told her about the blanket–bus ticket trade and Ruby's generosity, and then I tried to ask for a video message, but I just said "Um," forever until she asked me if I wanted to send Ruby something. I jammed my phone into her hand, and she said, "Oh, I'm doing it?" and I said, "I DUNNO," to which she replied, "No, we're all in this now!" turned into a selfie stick, and recorded a minute long heartfelt message for Ruby with WLW and I just kinda hanging out in the background. Then she asked me if I wanted to take a photo with her. After the photo, she said something that I cannot remember, but I remember saying, "I am not here," in response, to which she replied, "No, don't dissociate!" And then I dissociated, and I don't remember what happened between that and saying goodbye, but I do remember that after I said goodbye, I said, “Flee the scene!” and legged it.

So, I didn’t exactly get to discuss any of the notes I had taken, but I did meet Aabria Iyengar, and that alone is a dream come true, even though I became a version of myself nobody has ever seen before and I hope to God no one ever sees again, because, what the fuck… was that.

Anyways.

WLW couldn’t stay for the after party but kindly dropped me off. I was starting to get pretty tired, and I was disappointed that I didn’t get to properly talk to Aabria, so I didn’t actually want to go anymore, but I also didn’t want to give up on having the opportunity to have a conversation about storytelling with somebody. So, I went inside.

I spent a long time just kind of standing in a corner by myself until I worked up the courage to approach someone else who was also just kind of off to the side, and we ended up striking up a conversation. We chatted about the show, and as we spoke, I slowly came to the realization that most of the people who came out to the masterclass were motivated by an interest in D&D.

Now, this sounds like a dumb realization to make after traveling for seven hours to attend a D&D masterclass, but it was an important one, because I don’t give that big of a fuck about D&D. I’ve never played a single TTRPG in my goddamn life. Would I? Sure. But D&D had nothing to do with how desperately I wanted to go to that masterclass. I was drawn in by something else.

Last Thursday, Naya the audacity coach said that one of the ways we think ourselves out of our dreams is by assuming that everybody would be doing what we want to be doing if it was something that anybody could just up and do. But that assumption is false. Everybody has different dreams. Not everybody wants to be doing what you want to do. And I looked around the room and saw Renée on the other side and realized we were the only Black women there.

I didn’t feel quite up to breaking the ice, but thankfully my conversation partner wanted to go ask Renée what Bubbles’ class was, because she had the other three pretty much figured out. So we walked over and joined the conversation. Bubbles turned out to be a druid, and the reason she was hard to identify was because Renée did not take a single combat action during the entire one-shot and Bubbles was still a fascinating and engaging character nonetheless. I’m not exactly sure where the conversation went from there, but I remember getting really excited because Renée said Bubbles’ whole “unaware that she’s freaking people out by being too friendly” vibe really resonated with her, and I excitedly told her that it really resonated with me too, and then there was this lovely moment where Renée started talking about how much harder it is to be a weirdo when you’re already a visible minority, and she started a phrase that ended with “when all they see is,” and she looked me right in the eyes and paused for the tiniest fraction of a second before saying, “sharp teeth and horns.” I already knew how common it is for a Black person to play as Tieflings, but using a Tiefling as a literal metaphor in order to talk about your experiences as a Black person while physically, not figuratively, but literally standing in a predominantly-white space and simultaneously protecting that expression of self from getting hijacked and repurposed as a teachable moment for the benefit of everybody else in the room but you absolutely blew my mind.

I have strongly identified with the song "In My Own Little Corner" since the first time I heard Brandy sing it as Cinderella, but "Impossible" didn't resonate with me until I watched the first episode of “Burrow’s End��� on YouTube and Aabria became my Storytelling Fairy Godmother. Since then, I’ve been hearing “Impossible” playing from some vague, untraceable location in the distance that I had no real hope of finding. But, on Monday, it crystallized to a single point over Hamilton, Ontario, and on Tuesday, it started getting louder, like the horn of an approaching freight train, and it kept getting louder, until Thursday, February 20, 2025, the freight train hit, and I’m different now.

Fuck it, I’m different now.

It was Impossible for me to go to the masterclass, so somebody else sent me. And it was Impossible for me to achieve my dreams because if they were possible, everybody else would be doing it too, but I just sat in a room with 300+ people who don’t want what I want, so…

I’ve never been fired, but I did find out that I’d used up all my student funding last semester in the middle of midterms when I was too stressed to do anything about it, and I haven’t been able to pay rent since September. So, fuck it! I have the audacity. This is my Doechii moment now.

I’m going to go to a bunch of studios and ask if they have any internships open and ask questions, and by that I mean I’m going to connect with the Renées and the Aabrias, and all the other Black women storytellers, and talk to them about creating, and playing, and performing, and critiquing games, and stories, and characters, and worlds.

I’m going to message Renée and tell her I really enjoyed talking with her about her unique approach to gameplay and I’m going to ask if she’s free to chat more about it.

I’m even going to tag @quiddie and not even panic a little bit about it. Sup prof, lecture was sick, do you do… office hours…?

Anyways, that’s the story of how I got hit by a motherfucking freight train.

[coockie8]

i once had an anti tell me to stop sexualizing their trauma on a story i wrote that was a word for word retelling of my own actual trauma but with names changed and its been 2 years and i still cant stop thinking about that

Ah, yeah... Unfortunately a non-insignificant number of antishippers seem to genuinely believe they own the concept of trauma, so any story they read that they believe to be portrayed in a romanticized or sexualized light therefore must be romanticizing/sexualizing their trauma specifically.

I couldn't tell you the amount of times I've gotten the "stop sexualizing my trauma!!!!!!" or adjacent comments from antishippers that universally garner a response that basically boils down to

Like, bitch! I'm talking about my trauma! I literally did not even know you existed until you fucking commented!

[girlivealwaysbean]

So I wrote this next song a few days before my nineteenth birthday. And, um, back then, I was so terrified of change, and I was especially afraid of growing up. And I'd, like, cry at all my birthday parties as a child. Very, very emo.

Now that I'm 21, I don't feel afraid of growing up at all. In fact, I'm really, really looking forward to it. And, um, if I could give any advice to the 18-year-old girl who wrote this song, I'd tell her not to worry so much, and that she has no idea how many magical, magical things are waiting just around the corner for her. So, uh, with that, here's "teenage dream".

- Olivia Rodrigo at the Guts World Tour before playing teenage dream

[fionnaskyborn]

People like this have made me terrified that I am mischaracterizing my favorite character by playing into his strengths and emphasizing them so much... That I'm making things "too anime", "too over-the-top", and by doing that straying away from the groundedness that made the character compelling in the first place... But I think it's better to be a fan who loves someone so much they're willing to step into goofy over-the-top showcases of strength and morals out of love than being a fake fan who only ever rags on what they proclaim is so dear to them. I dunno. I don't think I'm wrong in saying that. I'm hella insecure when it comes to my own writing, especially with this guy because I want to do him as much justice as I possibly can as a writer. But I have to convince myself that it's not too much.

[robotsafari]

a mind palace’s (unasked for) renovations [DO NOT TAG AS SHIP]

bonus under the cut:

white mushroom more like “butlershroom.”

anyway. yep! my headcanon is that the mushroom series of heartless were essentially like early versions of ansem. experiments to see if creating a heartless with a will of its own were even possible. (the mushrooms just wanna play charades and go on nice walks! they wont steal your heart because their instincts tell em’ to! they’ll only snatch it if they feel like it <3) how can you make an “immortal” successor if they cant even understand the research you left for them? so thats why they were created!

[19catsncounting]

Wild idea: Alex Jones was one of Azazel's Special Children that he made just for funsies.

Research I didn't actually have to do but did: The Special Children Activation happened between 2006-2007 and Alex was kidnapped by Celia from her family smack-dab in the middle of that. 😃

[hana-bobo-finch]

i am one day late to my own character’s birthday but whatever better late than never. this image popped up in my head last night and I felt obligated to make it

for context Tornado is the name of the only social networking site on fincg island and C.C. is. very into the occult and would definitely think this is a halfway decent thing to do (it is not)

og

[dontmixpaintinyourcoffee]

This one goes out to all the bitches who love some good Safehouse Era Horror. It's me, I'm bitches. I want Jon and Martin to be fucked up and eldritch but I want them to be fucked up and eldritch and loved

(Notes under the cut because I can't help myself. Heads up, I do go into some detail of how Jon gets injured so I can explain my thought process for how I designed his scars. All canon-typical and fairly clinical in tone.)

Here's how I picture Safehouse Jon!

He doesn't need glasses anymore by this point, so he should just be wearing empty frames, but I drew this before I settled on my glasses headcanons. This drawing looks better with the reflection anyways.

He hasn't gotten a haircut since before his promotion to Head Archivist. He doesn't love the weight of it on his neck, but he also uses it to fidget, and he really doesn't want to go through the whole process of cutting it. He's disliked haircuts since he was a kid (People: Bad. Small talk: Bad. Touching: Bad. Loud sounds: Bad. People talking all at once: Bad) and since his time with the Circus he's only grown more reluctant to go and get it done.

At this length his hair is naturally pretty curly but he is. Not taking care of it. I actually put a lot of effort into trying to make it look brittle and tangled (I have a lot of experience lol, my hair is quite thick and I've always hated taking care of it. Yes I am also projecting my feelings about going to a hairdressers onto him why do you ask.)

The various scars were a bit of a strange task, but anyone who has seen my takes on The Bad Kids knows I'm not averse to selective realism in my fiction. Easiest one was the neck, I always pictured Daisy making a vertical cut based on "through the voice box". The larynx is longer than it is wide, so I think Daisy would go for the method that dealt damage across the largest total surface area. Yes I am aware that I'm speaking the same way Martin does when he explains his corkscrew.

The worm scars were easy because I barely drew any. There are a few marks on his cheek, but they're just surface bites. I picture most of his encounter with Prentiss showing on his legs, particularly on the right side, with enough damage there that he starts using a cane after the incident to keep weight off his right leg. More research to be done on this particular detail.

Finally the burn on his hand from Jude. This was the weirdest one to figure out just because of the nature of the injury. How do you quantify the damage done to an epidermis by a living manifestation of sometimes-boiling wax that can heat and cool at will? I settled on it being a second-degree burn that healed supernaturally fast, containing the damage to the space Jude had direct contact with. He'd probably have some mobility issues there as well. I know there are ways to help with mobility and pain after a severe burn, but I don't know how much of it Jon would actually. Do. Like I said, definitely further research to be done on these last two.

Hey so I'm gonna ask you to stop and consider the horror of the watcher. The helplessness. The guilt. The inherent terror of being a spectator, a participant by proximity but not by action. The horror of not being able to look away, of being a bystander. Jon forgets to blink sometimes. But wouldn't it be so much worse if there were no eyelids at all? That's how I interpret the description of The Archivist being "All Eyes" :D

I love a good Many-Eyed Jon, so I whipped up my own interpretation here. I think the more he Becomes the more he starts to resemble the thing from the dreams. He has a lot more control of it in S5, but it still creeps up on him and he has to consciously go back to a human shape.

[ciaoteamo]

Milk and Water Pt. II

pairings: doppelgänger!Milkman x fem!Reader

summary: the aftermath of letting him in

pt.I

(art credits: @yunonoaii)

warnings: 18+ content

“…what. the. fuck.” You mutter to yourself, watching the scene before you unfold.

“mmm, how about letting me in now? promise i won’t bite you too hard” His eyes were dangerously seductive.

Your desktop fan and the slight rustling sound of (what you could only assume was) him touching himself filled the eerie silence of your office space.

However, he could still tell that you were hesitant to let him in, especially considering what he just did to D.D.D.

“how about this, sweetheart we-“

“if i open this door.” You cut him off. He shuts up quickly and halts his movements with a blank stare. His eyes watching you intently.

“you come straight to me, or else i swear to fuck. it will not be a good time for you. you copy?” Your hands were firmly grasping the edge of the desk as you stared the man in his color changing eyes.

“i promise” He kisses the window and you give him one last short lived glare before unlocking the door for him.

BZZT!

He slowly turns away from you and walks toward the door and you felt relieved to hear a light knock a few seconds later before he let himself in.

“see? you can trust the milkman” He grins.

He was a mess. Between the torn clothing, the blood, and his unzipped slacks that displayed his black briefs holding back a huge bulge, he honestly looked like something out of a wet dream.

“this is quite a small space… you think i’ll be alright in here?” He closed the door behind himself and strides toward you.

“you don’t have any choice but to be alright” You retort and he chortles.

“i love this mouth of yours… i’ve never crossed paths with a human as bold as you…” He tilts his head, placing a hand under your chin to lift it a bit.

“unless you’re actually scared… and using this boldness as a tactic..?” His irises turn white once again and his grip on your chin tightened slightly.

Though you were enduring a near death experience right now, being that you were this close to a doppelgänger, you were unbelievably horny.

“tactics?” You start. You already knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to get out of his grip just by moving, so you used a more… inappropriate approach.

You took a step closer to him, closing in the 2 foot gap that sat between the two of you and you placed your palm over his hard-on.

His grip immediately loosened a bit and his fingers twitched against your skin. What a reaction that was…

You feel more confident, realizing that he’s just another horny good looking guy. “is there a reason i should be afraid of you?” You ask, hand squeezing around him and a finger rubbing his tip.

He shudders and his hand falls from your chin and rests around your throat. His forehead tapped against yours, and your eyes were fixed on each other. “…you really are something”

“wish i could say the same for you“ You start, breaking the eye contact to look at his lips and sharp canines. “you’re just a slutty and messy excuse of a monster” Your words would probably be venom to anyone else, but this only riled him up more.

You felt his throbbing under your palm and grin to yourself before being greedily pulled into a kiss. For a brief moment, you could taste a metallic bloody taste on his tongue.

You moaned at the warmth of his mouth and felt his hands rested on your hips, rubbing circles into the area.

You release yourself from the kiss with his bottom lip between your teeth and a smile. “desperate, are we?” You tease.

“painfully…” His eyes glistened. “what’ll it take to get those pretty lips to go a little lower?”

“show me what yours can do first and i’ll see about returning the favor” You challenge. His eyes go back and forth between yours before he kisses you again.

This time however, he started to undo your uniform. Groaning so deeply that you felt the rumble in your throat. His skilled hands loosened your belt and your slacks came down and off.

Next he lowered himself and lifted you a bit to get off your socks and shoes, making him get more sloppy and needy within the kiss.

At this point he was squatting and you were standing over him, holding both sides of his face. His hands travelled up and down your leg as he stayed in his position and this time, he’s the one to break the kiss.

You were both breathing heavily, and staring each other down. You almost forgot your resolve and let him fuck you right then and there.

But you had to stay strong, for both of you guys’ sake. You take a deep breath in and til your head.

“well, you gonna show me? or are just sit there and look delirious from a simple kiss?” You teased.

“…may i?” He asks with a slightly raised eyebrow, gesturing toward your leg.

“go ahead”

“hold on to something right”

“why am i h- shit!” You would’ve fell right to the ground if it wasn’t for the shelf behind you that held last months documents. Albeit, they’re scattered over the floor now.

Your legs were snatched from underneath you and each one was hooked over the man’s shoulders. His warm breath against you felt sinister. It sent a slight chill up your spine.

His eyes stared down at your sex and he licked his lips, looking more excited than you did for this. “don’t let go” He says before using gis fingers to spread you sticky lips.

His tongue pressed hard into you and drug from your hole, up to your clit. You bit your lip at the warmth and felt your back arch against your will.

“ha~ this all you got? Thought you said you’d be bet- anghh~!” Your eyes widen and your mouth drops at the new feeling below.

“you were saying?” He mumbles into you. His tongue was longer with a pointy tip, and his lips were wrapped tightly around your clit.

The pleasure was almost overwhelming. You could definitely admit that he made you eat your words and replace them with loud endless moans.

As you felt yourself getting closer you began to grind your hips over his face, chasing after your high.

“don’t stop” You could barely get out the last word before the wave of immense overstimulating pleasure came over you.

You curse and take in a few deep breaths, calming yourself down a bit, and only then did he let your clit go with a ‘pop’, making your legs to twitch.

“that wasn’t fair” You jokingly glare at him, the sweat making your skin shine and chilly from the fan air.

“i told you i was better” He wipes his chin with his thumb and licks it clean without breaking the eye contact.

“you have to be some sort of… sex demon” You shake your head in disbelief.

“maybe i am?” He lets you tug him closer by his tie and give him another sloppy kiss. The change in size of his tongue being just below too much for you as it explored your mouth.

“well let’s see how long you can last then… hm?” You ask, beginning to leave a trail of light kisses on his next before a harsh bite.

You could feel him shudder and decided to have him sit in your office chair. “let me borrow this..” You say, undoing his tie while he sat.

You spin the chair around and bring both of his arms to the back and tie them to the chair. When you spin his back around, his had such a mischievous grin that you went ahead and addressed.

“yes, i know you could probably get out of that in a heartbeat” You start and roll your eyes. He chuckles, amused at your awareness. “but, will you?” It was your turn to put on the sly grin now. The second he managed to break free from his restraint, would be the moment you’d send him off.

“…” He read your face, bit knowing if he should say something sly or not.

“right, thought so” You smile and give him a few taps on the cheek.

You kneel between the man’s legs, finally addressing the large and throbbing penis before you.

“god you’re hard… you weren’t kidding when you said you needed help” You joke, rubbing his wet tip through his boxers with you finger.

He grunted a bit and readjusted himself in his seat. You look up at him before pressing harshly on it with your thumb.

“oh fuck you~” He throws his head back and you giggle.

You reach for the hem of his briefs and tug at them, signaling him to lift his hips. Once he’s exposed, you could really see the girth and length of him.

He was veiny, thick… bright pink tip, and god knows how long it was.

You put your hand around the base, it was warm and nearly pulsating. Your pace was moderate, giving him just enough to work with. You knew it was a nice steady pace when his hips slightly jerked up for more friction.

“needy boy wanting to fuck my hand? this wasn’t even the main event you asked for, love” You coo, strengthening the grip you had on him by a smidge.

“i can’t help that you know how to use those hands of yours so well” He remarks, still facing the ceiling.

You pump your fist higher up and use your own skilled tongue to drag along his vein.

“@$?!~” He moaned and immediately looked down at you with a snarl. An almost threatening one telling you that he wanted more.

And were you planning on giving it to him? Absolutely not.

You stare right back at him and smirk, using the same motion and occasionally sucking the pre cum from its leaky pink source.

“i’m gonna cum” Your eyes welled a bit at the large shaft triggering your gag reflex. But he was close so you would endure the slight pain.

His thrust his hips up a few times and you force your head as far as you could before completely stopping.

“fuck- why’d you stop” His voice was almost a whisper and suddenly thick white ropes shot into the air and landed on his thigh.

“oh i’m sorry, i’ll keep going” You reach for his most sensitive spots, overstimulating him into a nervous laughter as he begged you to stop.

It was fun watching him experience more than he could handle, but all good things come to an end.

He sighs in relief, sweaty, heaving, and dazed.

“can i be freed now?” He asks.

“sure, why not. looks like you’re done here anyway” You shrug.

“who’s done?” He stands up, simply snapping the tie apart.

“oh… you’ve still got more in you?”

“im the milkman, i never run out” He suddenly picks you up and sits on you on the desk. Jesus, these things are strong.

You wrap your hands around your neck, suddenly feeling the arousal for another round yourself.

His hands find your slick entrance, teasing the outside and slipping two cold slender fingers into you.

“mmm!” You mean into the kiss, holding onto his forearm as he fingered you at an inhumane pace. You break away and cat h your breath trying to slow him down a bit.

“i don’t want to cum from this, put it in” You say.

“yes ma’am” He lines himself up without your entrance and slowly pushes himself in with a moan. You could every centimeter of the stretch as he went deeper.

You tapped the back of your head onto the window behind you and felt him kissing on your neck and collarbone.

“fuck you’re big” Your voice slightly shook as you stated the obvious.

“and you’re so warm and wet inside, i ashamed to admit that i almost came putting it in” He chuckled before biting back another groan.

RIIIIING

RIIIIING

You snap your head in the direction of the phone and see D.D.D. calling.

Shit.

“stop, i have to take this.” He halts his thrusts and you grab the phone. “hello?”

“agent number” A deep voice says over the phone.

“5 5 8 4 3 7” You state clearly.

“thank you agent (Y/N), we’re calling about a few M.I.A. cleaners? it says in our system that you were the last to call. is everything alright?”

“ye-es~” You feel something rubbing your g-spot and look over at Francis. ‘stop, now.’ You mouth silently. He just smirks and speeds up.

“are you sure? you sound like you’re being threatened” The man on the phone asks.

“mhm~, im fine sir, just a little shaky” You put your hand over the phone speaker and look at Francis.

“what the fuck is wrong with you??” You ask, interrupting yourself with a few moans.

“just a little thirsty for some water” He thrusts harder, causing him to hit your g-spot, and your clit back to back.

You cover your mouth with your shirt and moan into it, hearing the buzz of a voice on the phone. Honestly you should be scared, they could show any minute, but right now, you could care less.

“im gonna cum” You whisper, still being mindful of the potential listeners.

“yeah?” He grabs a young and stands straight up, slamming you down into his cock. You let out something just short of a scream into the crook of his neck and find yourself twitching and shaking in his grip.

You heard a splash and felt him fill you up with his seed. You both were a moaning, groaning mess, heavily breathing in place.

“(Y/N), do you copy?……. we’re on our way” The phone then hangs up and the low buzzy voice is replaced with a prominent beep.

“you have to go, they’re coming” You lazily try to leave his strong hold with a tired push against his chest.

“but first” He puts you back on the desk where you rest your back against the cold glass window. “a drink..” His tongue grows longer right infont of you, and cleans you from your ankles to your navel, and of course he ran it over the bundle of nerves he’s been abusing all night, making your body jolt.

“you’re so delicious… i wish i could always taste you” His tongue goes back to its normal size.

“well i’ll get going now… i’ll be seeing you again soon, love. i’ll try not to cause too much trouble next time…” He gives you a peppery kiss on the nose and leaves.

Well, that’s one way to end your day shift…

[severepink]

Observing Adam

Where I go way too deep into something that probably isn't that deep. It's long, it's long as hell.

Okay, so you'd think with how Adam talks he's just a typical misogynist, right?

This man worships pussy. So much so, he's named a whole ass angel, one of his best, Vagina. You'd say that he objectifies them and thinks of them as being lesser, but I don't think that's the whole story. In fact, I think he might be the original simp.

All of these exorcists so far have been women. All of them. He refers to them as ladies or bitches interchangeably, he sees them as being completely capable of absolutely decimating leagues of some of the most vile beings who have ever existed, and they have, to the point it was only after thousands of years that there's been a risk to this hierarchy.

He's a self-centered, egotistical, loud-mouthed, arrogant asshole, no doubt about it, but I'm beginning to suspect something now.

If Adam and Lilith were created from the same dust, if they were created as equals, I am more than willing to bet... Lilith is also a self-centered, egotistical, arrogant asshole. But, she's likely far more intelligent, composed, and duplicitous.

Lilith was allowed to refuse Adam and leave of her own free will and garnered her own independence. A new wife was created for Adam, she was replaced. My guess, is she thought Adam wouldn't be able to live without her, to come back and find herself replaced entirely, she was enraged.

I believe both Adam and Lilith were both incredibly dominant individuals who fought over ideas, thoughts, and ultimately in the bedroom as well, if we take into account the creationist stories.

I'm willing to bet she likely manipulated Lucifer into twisting humanity against its original concept. What if Lucifer's intention truly was to just spark something within Eve, like independence and thought and creation, but it was Lilith's poison within the fruit that tainted her, then subsequently Adam, with sin.

Lilith thrived in hell, while Lucifer's dreams of creation were dashed. She didn't suffer as he did, instead the power of her voice grew with hell. Her voice grew so powerful that heaven found it to be a threat, her actions instigated the beginning of exterminations.

Charlie said that when she was a little girl, she didn't know Lucifer at all. I don't think this was because of Lucifer, he's seen here, picking her up, inviting her to share in his thoughts and dreams, showing her something wonderful. Something she could see within herself.

Charlie says that it's this moment that sparked her will to fight for her dreams. Which is strange, because at the very beginning of the story, Charlie says it was her mother's dream that was passed down to her.

Lilith took Charlie away. In this scene, Lucifer wasn't done showing Charlie his thoughts and dreams, he's still yearning to show his daughter these things at this point.

Lucifer loves his daughter. He loves Charlie so, so, so much. So why wasn't he allowed to build a relationship with his daughter for the longest time? He was waiting for the opportunity to get to know her, but with how much he adores her why didn't he do it sooner? He didn't comment on 'It took you a while-' he just said he missed her smile. They don't want to be pulled apart, again.

Now, we know Vivziepop has said that Lucifer and Lilith love each other, but Lilith 'wears the pants' in the relationship. We see all of the pictures all over the walls of a supposedly happy family. I don't think the relationship was as loving as originally portrayed and Lilith is a woman who desires control above all else. She likely tried to mitigate what influence Lucifer had over their daughter when she thought his angelic thoughts and behaviors became more than what she approved of.

Lets take it back to Adam and Lute for a moment. Again, Adam is a loud mouthed idiot, he's a jerk. The moment he realizes there are demons in heaven, he's ready to go on the attack. It's only because of Lute that he didn't end up doing something absolutely idiotic.

I gotta say, Lute and Adam's relationship is an absolutely fascinating one. He's a disrespectful dick head in how he talks, but how he acts is a different story. He allows Lute to man-handle him. He does listen to her, even if he's a whiny bitch about it.

Look at him, this is the face of a man listening, a dumb one, but a dude listening all the same. He doesn't manhandle her back, he doesn't even pull away until she lets go of his collar. Of all the shit he complained about, between being grabbed and being told what to do, his biggest complaint is that she's telling him to shush.

We know that Adam is the one who suggested the exterminations to begin with, so Sera says, and this was because of the power that Lilith was amassing. To him, Lilith is a threat. Even when he was willing to move on, to go to another wife when Lilith didn't want him or want to submit to him (fair babe, he's a bit of an idiot), she came back with an angel and proceeded to manipulate his new wife Eve. This is the supposed progenitor of man-kind, the original dick (hilariously enough), the reason civilization even exists at all. He and Eve had to fight for their lives after being tempted with the fruit. They had immortality, they had no ideas of shame, they were supposedly 'innocent' creatures before Lilith and Lucifer came along. He and Eve had to fight tooth and nail to survive after being cast from Eden. I think it shows in how willing and ready he is to take lead and do what he believes needs to be done, now out of a need for entertainment rather than a need to defend or protect. But, he still stopped to listen to Lute's advice. In the mythological story of Adam and Eve, Adam is the one who has to tell Eve that god said don't eat the fruit. Eve never heard god speak to her, so she was vulnerable to the snake's manipulations. She will now die because she ate it, and because she did not want Adam to take another wife, convinced him to eat it unknowingly. Funnily enough, Adam tried to explain to god that 'she lied to me and gave me the fruit' and in this actual mythology, Adam was punished for listening to his wife. Even without mentioning Lilith in the original mythology, Eve didn't want Adam to take another wife, so when we consider it within the context of Hazbin Hotel, it may be likely that's how it went down. Eve knew of Lilith, knew that she could be replaced, and decided that she would take Adam with her.

I believe that Adam does and did rely on the women in his life to help him with direction. I think Adam knows he can be an idiot and is willing to listen, even if he doesn't agree with what he's hearing. He did listen to Charlie in the beginning, he just didn't believe in her, like everyone else and he, out of anyone there, probably had the most reason not to. Cain and Abel were his and Eve's sons, his own child became the first murderer. Out of jealousy, the same kind of jealousy that no doubt has caused Lilith to act how she did. Adam isn't going to have empathy for sinners. His family, his legacy, were filled with the original sinners. He probably had to kill his son Cain in hell during the first exterminations. What do you think he would have had to feel, if it came to be a fact that sinners could be redeemed? That maybe his son, could've been redeemed? Or any of his progeny for that matter? How did it feel when his sons, his progeny, weren't given the same mercy as the Hellborn that Lucifer managed to keep protected through some deal with the angels or god? Not to mention that Charlie could've been his daughter. Charlie is the product of the people who completely and totally destroyed the paradise he'd been born into. She's the daughter who is protected and immune from the slaughter while all of his sons and daughters are judged and killed. I believe, even though he was a dickish prankster to Charlie, he was surprisingly patient and even somewhat amicable, willing to even ask her how her weekend was like he was just trying to get to know her.

Adam could just see all of the angels under his employ as being disposable. He doesn't have to name them, or think about them in any individual fashion. But, he knows Vaggie, recognized her instantly. Thought she was badass. Lute's the one who saw her, tore her wings off, and walked away. I'm surprised they even let her live, because this just goes against everything they're doing. They're an army and they saw one of their own showing empathy to the enemy.

Look at this dumb ass. He's being a shit-head, a dick, a bastard. But, he admires Vaggie's ability to pull Charlie, congratulates her, this dude isn't even judging her for being a lesbian. I don't think it's because he objectifies women, this dude loves women, he just does. He respects fellow vagina lovers. I don't think he respects liars in the slightest though. He's being underhanded, he's trying to be manipulative (he's not very good at it). I think he's brutally open and honest about everything and that's probably one of the reasons he's such a bastard anyways, because sometimes you just need to shut-up and he's not good at that.

I don't think he respects Sera for that either, he's more than willing to let others know what the hell he's doing, but under Sera's lead, he can't be open about it. I don't think it's his jam to act this way, it's why he sucks so bad at it and I think that's why Lilith is so antithetical to him. I also think that's why he's possibly even being manipulated.

It's kind of crazy that Adam is the only one who tries to come up with what allows someone to get into heaven. So here's his list: 1. Act Selfless: Maybe at one point he was! He had to have been, to be one of the progenitors of mankind, he would have had to work, sacrifice, and give to his wife and children for them all to survive. Eve would have had to do the same, no doubt. He may not seem selfless, due to his raunchy behavior, but he's served heaven since he's been there. He's served humanity in some kind of facet. 2. Don't Steal: Considering the only other humans are his spawn, he likely had to try and get them to not steal from one another for them all to have an equal opportunity of survival. He and Eve likely both knew they would need to work together to survive.

3. Stick it to the man: This, however, is interesting. Who is 'The Man' he speaks of? God? The only other people over him or were equal to him were women. He speaks like a rocker, and I think in this case he's using the term 'The Man' in a gender neutral way. I think he allowed some amount of Authority to Lilith when they were supposed to be seen as equals, it comes so naturally to him as a character when it comes to the other women he's been interacting with. I think she is the 'man' that he's been sticking it to- Pun somewhat intended. ((This third one may also simply be a tongue in cheek reference to when Alex Brightman played Dewey in School of Rock on Broadway! Thank you to the user who brought this to my attention!))

Adam is a bit of a hypocrite, isn't he? He likes to fuck, he's made that abundantly clear. Full of lust you could say. It was his original purpose after all, and he is judging Angel Dust for something he probably would've done himself at one point or has considered doing (maybe not the having sex with men part). Angel Dust does all of these things, Adam doesn't even deny it. He even looks nervous. He's angry, but doesn't deny that Angel has done those things. He doesn't explain it away or try to lie or move the goal posts, he's just asking what is an actually very valid question.

Why isn't Angel Dust there if he can do things equal to what Adam himself hasn't done? Serenity continues that line of thought. It isn't until Charlie is realizing no one knows what it takes to get into heaven.

Adam is more than willing to let Lute take the lead here, he's willing to give her the stage to clap back, he's giving her back-up antics. By all means, they could be pushing and fighting one another, there could easily be body language expressing something other than their general comfort around one another. They aren't fighting for a spotlight like you'd expect Adam to try and do considering his egotistical attitude.

Adam fucking sucks at keeping his mouth shut and he sucks at lying. He nearly blew the secret out of the bag once, this time, Sera is the only one who tries to stop him and to be honest? Lute looks a bit too thrilled at it. He knows he fucked up, but he doesn't think it's a big deal that anyone would know. For fucks sake, they've already condemned souls, his progeny, to suffer. What's the big deal if he kills them?

I have to re-iterate what's happening here. Charlie is proud she caused this chaos, that she caused these angels to fight amongst themselves, even if in this case it's a good thing. But, this is like history repeating itself to Adam, the reflection of his ex-wife, entering his domain, causing strife among his people, being happy about it.

And the venom he expresses when it comes to the 'liar' portion, god Alex Brightman destroyed when he got to this portion specifically. There is some vehement disgust in his tone when he says liar.

Adam isn't a good person now. But, I think he used to be a good person. By all means, Adam himself could've been the first murderer when his wife made her mistake. He, at one point in time, had to have been good enough to foster civilization itself with Eve. Both good and bad. Adam's original purpose was to be fruitful and multiply. Ordained by god (or maybe just angels) himself, divine power directed and created him to fuck. He didn't chase his ex-wife down, he was given a new one, Lilith was allowed to leave. When he left things alone, when he tried to move on, his ex-wife and a scorned angel destroyed the paradise he was in with Eve. He had to struggle and toil, he had to feel shame in his own body. He had to find out his first born son was the first murderer. His second son killed. We don't know if this is going to be canon in the story, a lot has changed, and if Adam is the first soul who reached heaven, then what did happen to Abel? Was Abel considered a sinner? Or did Cain kill Abel after Adam had passed? Either way, he had to witness his children kill, he had to watch his descendants behave in a range from saints and monsters. He's seen genocides, he's seen famine, war. Adam is desensitized to the plights of his descendants. Maybe he even saw it as a duty to cleanse the universe of their existence at one point, because they were his responsibility.

At the end of this episode, he is properly scolded by Sera and does seem ashamed of himself. He isn't huffy, he is reminded that he should be ashamed of acting that way.

I love Lute's enthusiasm, she's absolutely brutal when talking about Vaggie and with how she handled Vaggie. I think it's funny that Lute is so brutal she's even made Adam uncomfortable. It's cute that he's made uncomfortable by the excitement and all he does is tell Lute, the premier hype woman over here, to chill. She's so proud of herself too, look at her.

He fully expects these exorcist bad bitches to go in there and fuck shit up. But, you know it's hilarious that he's throwing horns? This dude, this angel. First human soul in heaven, loving rock n' roll, the devil's music, and throwing motherfucking horns. It's poetic really. I think we can probably assume where things are going.

Now, this is the first point we've seen Adam being a real piece of shit to Lute. I don't think Adam likes it when people think he's too dumb to notice something, especially something so damn obvious. This is such a drastic moment of vitriolic, uncontrolled anger directed towards Lute. Adam knows he isn't the brightest tool in the shed. He likely knows he's obtuse and misses shit. It's why he sucks at lying, he knows he's not smart. That is why I think he's afforded women opportunities to direct him without fighting back against their advice and their choices. I'm sure Lilith made it obvious how dumb she thinks Adam is. I'm wondering if this might be where their ground breaking fight might've come from. Who's to say he didn't allow Lilith to take the lead, or listen to her like he's done with Lute here and now? Perhaps to an even greater point? He listened to Eve and ate from the fruit of knowledge and he was punished for it. Being seen as so dumb he can't formulate a simple fact is a sore spot for him.

Adam is incredibly powerful. It took a bit out of him to exercise that power, probably because he's out of practice just like Lucifer said. At one point, he probably wasn't so sloppy and weak willed. He's gotten lazy. Sloth like.

I think it got real personal here. How viscerally and personally he attacked Charlie. No one but Charlie truly thought sinners could be redeemed, or that they were even worth it. Not even one of the original sinners. Maybe he never considered the possibility, maybe what happened really did make him see the world as black and white to cope with that happened to him, his wife, his children. Charlie's desire to fight this idea would destroy the foundation for all of his coping through the years. He stopped seeing them as family, even though he's grandiose about his founding role in humanity. Does that itch the guilt that may lurk under the surface?

I don't think Adam thought much of Charlie at all. I don't think he had any intention of coming to kill her in the beginning, despite seeing her, despite who her parents were. But, I think with the constant push, with how eager she was to disrupt the pre-conceived idea of order, it reminded Adam and reflected her parents so much, he was eager to kill her for revenge against them. I think this electrical interference on the mask is a direct reflection of sin. Namely, wrath, in this moment.

Now, this. THIS. Is something that made me want to write this whole fucking essay. Is Lucifer implying that he not only gave Eve the Fruit from the tree of knowledge, but FUCKED HER TOO? Homies, I'm sorry but holy shit. That is some hydrating tea. I'd be pretty pissed too, fucked over twice by women who were supposed to be literal soul mates, who you were made for, who were made for you?

I knew he would have a goatee, I could almost hear it. I gotta say, I'm a sucker for how he looks. I think he's hot. He is a bastard, but so are a lot of the hot dudes in this show. It's just a theme.

This exact series of lines prompted so many of the thoughts that I had about Adam and why he thinks or acts the way he does. At one point, Adam did have to work himself to the bone and learn to survive from scratch alongside Eve. He isn't entirely without cause to not think that he deserves some respect or recognition from his descendants.

But, that doesn't give him the right to act like god himself. It's... well... Blasphemous. Isn't it? One of the worst sins is to think yourself to be worthy of worship, as if you're a god.

This is the moment that gave me empathy for them both. You could probably see the kind of loving person Adam could have been at one point with how he looks at Lute, even as he's laying there, dying. He's not crying like a bitch, just looking at Lute softly. Lute screaming for him, screaming his name. They cared for each other deeply.

And this... and this.... and this. WHAT DEAL DID YOU MAKE, LILITH? Did you make it with Sera? Did you make it with Adam? Did you make it with Lute? Did you really just want a little 'vacay' away from the hell you helped create? Left her husband, depressed and lonely. Left her daughter without any care or guidance. Maybe Alastor was sent in her place, perhaps? Seven years since he was seen after all, but why wouldn't he show up sooner if Lilith did care? Did she make a deal with Lute and Adam? Did she let Adam smash it so she could stay in heaven? Did Lute let her stay in exchange for getting Adam out of a position of power? Or was it maybe Sera who commissioned Lilith with a deal? Either way, I'm in full belief that it wasn't Adam's idea to move the extermination day up. I think he's a patsy, a scapegoat. I think Lute may have been manipulated, potentially, into manipulating Adam into this position. Was it even really Adam who came up with the idea to do the exterminations? Or was he the one who simply decided to fight originally because he was told heaven was at risk due to Lilith's rising power? The Road to Hell is Paved with Good Intentions. I think it could be any number of these. Either way, Lute certainly does think she had authority over Lilith. Is it Lute just having hubris? Or is Lilith truly bound, just like Alastor, Husk, and Angel Dust?

Of course, now that we know a soul can be redeemed... and we certainly know that angels can fall. I don't think this will be the last we see of Adam.