On a somewhat related note, that one Hollow Knight SI/OC fic makes us foam at the mouth because the one (1) time we tried to read it they got basic details of How Dreamcatchers Work wrong and we had to physically restrain ourself from typing out a heated comment into the comment box because even if people are horrifically wrong on the internet sometimes yelling at them does not make it better, and we do not want to end up being an asshole to people who likely just didn't know better.
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Every time I go on AO3, I forget to prepare for being smacked in the face with excessive taggery and I get so annoyed about it.
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my mom has covid and i live with her haha *chuckles* im in danger
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fallout is only allowed to be about two things:
i am being hunted by mutants and every choice i make is wrong
we will build the republic of heaven wherever we find ourselves
anyone who tries to tell you fallout is about anything else is WRONG and going to hell when they die when i kill them.
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I finished yellowjackets and started my rewatch of scream season 2. Bad choice!! Very much making myself insane!! But I just love stories about trauma and complex female friendships and also murder so so much 😭😭😭
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the dream is to have such a connection with whatever your queer cultural identity is that you don’t have to feel precious and frantic and scathing about making sure everyone is on the same page about exactly what it is and isn’t. the dream is so feel so safe and secure in who you are that it doesn’t make sense to police the category that contains your experience. there’s a sense of trust that accompanies this— trust that your queer cultural box has a long, long history that can handle any individual quirks from any one person without being destroyed by them. having an in-depth connection to queer culture helps with this— when you know there will always be lesbians and bisexuals and asexuals and gay people and trans people and a thousand different other categories each with their own histories and lineages of culture, individual queer people feel like less of a threat. individual aberrations that blur and meld categories are points of interest, field data, a welcome manifestation from an unknown saint, not breaches in quarantine.
but when the connection isn’t there, with all of the faith and trust that comes with it, of course the word cop comes out to defend property and property owners. if they don’t, everything will fall into ruin. the thin rainbow line and so on.
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Procurement in 4 Stages…
As complex as procurement is, Coupa believes it can usefully be categorised into four stages:
STAGE 1
Tactical and operational At this stage of maturity, procurement is primarily concerned with ordering and invoice processes.
STAGE 2
Efficient sourcing The introduction of strategic sourcing, contract management and supplier management deliver significant savings across
the…
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How about this prompt with Dean Winchester x reader?
In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.
Thanks!
Cry Wolf
Supernatural Fanfiction
Rating: Explicit
WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Werewolf Dean, Possessive Behavior, Some Angst, Fluff and Smut, Non-con Elements if you squint, Hurt/Comfort, Plot What Plot, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Blood Kink, Knotting, Alpha/Beta/Omega Undertones
Category: F/M
Pairings: Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader
Summary: Dean gets bit by a werewolf during a hunt, forcing Sam on a quest to find the sire lycanthrope and cure his brother. Suffering the effects of the transformation, Dean is quarantined in the bunker all by himself. It really is bad timing when you come a-knocking, utterly oblivious, and with a bleeding gash on your upper thigh. Did I mention it was a full moon?
This is a one-shot. Here's the masterlist of my other fics: Masterlist
Chapter One
Bad Moon Rising
"Don't come around tonight, well it's bound to take your life. There's a bad moon on the rise."
You were limping, the cut on your leg sending a shooting pang through you every time you took a wobbly step forward. Getting in your car had been difficult, driving had been terrible, but leaving the vehicle and trudging down the asphalt road to the uneven terrain along the entrance of the bunker was the real bitch.
You banged on the side of the door, the metal continuing to vibrate long after your knock.
“Guys, it’s me.” You announced. A dark, heavy cloud loomed over your head, covering the big full moon that shone in the sky. Soon little beads of water were beginning to fall on top of you. “Come on, it’s starting to rain!” Still, there was no response.
You cursed under your breath and took your phone from your pocket, calling Sam one more time. As it had happened in your previous attempts, his voicemail was all you reached.
“Shit.” Your thumb hovered over Dean’s name, about to press the call button yet again, but a gearing sound stopped you in your tracks.
The bunker’s door was cracked open by an inch, wide hazel eyes meeting yours through the gap.
“Dean?” You could only see a sliver of his face, but his pupils were incredibly dilated, almost obscuring his irises entirely. His mouth was agape, and he panted for air as if he had just run for miles.
“Hey, kiddo.” You cringed, not only at the condescending nickname that he had forced on you years ago, but also at the rasp in his voice. It was gruffer than usual, deep, and full-bodied. “Whatcha doing here? Is Sam with you?” He looked over your shoulder, eyes darting around to inspect your surroundings.
“Uh, no. I’ve been trying to call you guys, is this a bad time?” You placed one of your hands on the side of your wound, wincing at the ache. With the other hand, you held onto the wall in front of you, uncomfortably shifting your weight.
Dean noticed the rip in your pants, a dark red spot tingeing the fabric of your jeans, and instantly his expression changed. The furrow in his brow disappeared and his face lit up, a glint you had never seen before flashed in his eyes, making them appear greener for a second.
The door of the bunker swung open, revealing the disheveled image of the older Winchester.
His hair was messy, as if he had tossed and turned in bed. His lips were split and swollen, as if he had bitten on them till the skin broke. And the navy blue shirt he wore was drenched in sweat, the light material stretching under his biceps and his heaving pectoral muscles. You didn’t remember him being that ripped.
“What happened?” He asked, focus unwavering from the gash on your thigh, tongue poking out to wet his parched lips.
“I had a run-in with some demons. Those sons of bitches did a number on my leg.” You explained, not liking the way he didn’t look up at you, appearing to be entranced by the seeping blood coming from your damaged skin.
Dean refused to say anything in return, or maybe he simply wasn’t capable of doing so. He just stared at your injury with a kind of sinister awe.
“I don’t wanna impose or anything, I was just kinda hoping Sam could patch me up.” You added at last, those words seeming to snap him out of his stupor.
“I can do it.” He blurted out, not giving you any time to think before he wrapped his hand around your wrist and tugged you inside.
You cried in pain when you stumbled into the bunker, not prepared to move your thigh so abruptly, his grip too tight where he held you without letting go.
“Sorry.” He murmured, noticing your discomfort but not loosening his clasp.
The wet sole of your boots squelched on the vinyl floor and you felt a rush of relief to be sheltered from the increasing rain, if only that feeling could’ve lasted for longer.
Dean slammed the door behind the two of you, the click that reverberated in your ears signaling that it locked as it closed.
“It’s fine.” You said, in regards to his apology, and offered him a weak smile while you pried his closed fist from your wrist with some difficulty. For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to let go.
You took a few shaky steps towards the foyer’s balcony, resting your arms on the railing of the staircase and looking down at the antechamber of the bunker, all the blinking lights from the old control panels catching your attention.
“Where is Sam, anyway? He’s not answering his phone.” You question, with your back to Dean, but no reply comes your way.
You shrug it off, assuming that he merely didn’t want to disclose his brother’s whereabouts. It was none of your business, after all. Like most things the Winchesters get involved in, it’s probably highly dangerous and way above your pay grade.
You can’t even begin to remember how many times you tried to participate in their world-saving crusades, be useful somehow, only to be flat-out prohibited by Dean. He’d say you weren’t ready, that it wasn’t safe, that you were too young, and so on until you stopped showing interest altogether.
Now, you hunt on your own, only seeing them from time to time. But you like it that way, you like having no one to bark orders at you, you like proving that you’re good at your job without anyone’s help. Unless, of course, you screw up and get hurt, in which case you do need someone’s help.
“Do you even know how to do it? ‘Cause I think it’s gonna need stitches.” You inquire about your wound, the abused tissue throbbing even as you stand still.
You sense movement behind you and Dean’s hand appears at your side on the railing, his torso touching your back and his nose tickling your nape. You hear him inhale deeply and then let out a sigh of pure satisfaction, the hot air landing on your neck and sending a tingle of goosebumps up your arms.
“What the hell was that?” You turn to face him, forcing some distance between the both of you, absolutely shocked at the quick turn of events. “Did you just sniff me?”
“No, of course not.” He shakes his head, almost as confused as you are. He scans you up and down, licking his lips again, and his eyes glaze over before he puffs out a breath and fights to recompose himself. “I mean, yeah, a little bit.”
“Why?” You elongate the syllable, thinking that maybe, if you really enunciate your words you might be able to get some sensible answers from him.
“It’s just that-” He advances on you and you back away from him, your ribs hitting the railing when you have nowhere else to go. He stops in front of you, invading your personal space and caging you with his big arms. “You smell so fucking good.”
He hunches over you, bending his spine till the tip of his nose touches your temple and his lips graze the high point of your cheek.
“Dean.” You call to him, but he fails to acknowledge you in any way. “What are you doing?” You try again, more forcefully this time, and he ignores you just the same. There’s a continuous vibration coming from his chest that sounds awfully similar to a purring animal, almost like he wants to soothe you into submission.
His left hand grabs the fat of your hip, bunching up the hem of your shirt and squeezing under the fabric, abnormally long nails nipping at your skin. His right hand, however, entangles itself on the hair at the base of your scalp, pulling unceremoniously so as to expose your neck to his exploration.
He mouthes on your pulse point, huffing as he pants and nuzzles against you. He doesn’t exactly kiss the sensitive skin as much as he runs the plump pillows of his lips up and down the span of your bared throat, drawing invisible shapes of his choosing.
He then finds a particular spot he likes best, right behind your ear, and fixates on it. Completely lost to the world when he lolls out his tongue, longer than what is humanly possible, and licks where the taste of your natural scent is the strongest.
The moment you feel the wetness of his saliva laving at your flesh, you jolt jarringly, pushing at his chest with all your will, and it’s like trying to move a mountain with the way he doesn’t even budge.
“Stop!” You yell, mustering as much assertiveness as you can into your tone before you give him a final shove, sending him three to four steps backwards.
Dean seems to awake from a daydream, eyes flashing to a fluorescent green and back to his normal hazel. He stares at you with a frown, unable to catch his breath, attempting to take a step in your direction but you raise a finger at him and he halts.
“Stop it.” You order and his frown deepens, looking wounded and unhappy, but he obliges.
You spear a glance at the stairs to the side of you, your only escape route since he was currently blocking the door from where you came in. You could race down the steps and lock yourself inside of the many rooms in the bunker, but with your leg the way it is, you wouldn’t make it past a single step before he caught up to you.
With your index finger still raised at him, you support your weight on the railing and move to make your descent down the stairs, planning on taking it one slow step at a time.
“You’re hurt.” He states after you swallow a lament while on the second step, visibly itching to come closer. “Let me help you, I can carry you.”
“No. You’re gonna stay right there.” You command, doing your best to not let the pain show in your features as you drag yourself to the floor below.
His feet inch towards you while he eyes you like a disobedient puppy, knowing full well that there’s nothing you can really do to stop him.
“You’re gonna stay right where you are, and we’re gonna wait till your brother comes home, and then we’re gonna sort this out.” He’s at you before you finish your sentence.
You yelp when he snatches you suddenly, pulling you below your shoulder blades and lifting you up, your only option being to wrap your calves around his hips and brace yourself onto the back of his neck to keep from falling.
He carries you down the rest of the stairs, short-winded and with droplets of sweat rolling down his forehead. He burns you, not only with the heat of his unblinking gaze, but also with his unnaturally high body temperature. You had never felt someone’s skin this hot in your life. You didn’t understand how he could be standing, let alone holding you like you weigh nothing.
“Ok, you can put me down now.” You say when you get to the antechamber, but Dean’s grip tightens on you and he continues to walk into the war room.
“Everything’s gonna be fine.” He’s mumbling, and you’re not even sure he’s talking to you or to himself. “I just need to-” He drops you on top of the light-up map table in the middle of the room, with surprising care and delicateness. “I just need to scent you.”
“What?!” You exclaim in disbelief, trying to move away but he restrains you, sinking his claw-like fingernails into your nape as a clear display of dominance. You whimper at the sting and he leans over you, purring louder than before.
“Dean, listen to me.” You can’t shake the feeling that you’re attempting to reason with a crazy person, but you have to try. He’s much stronger than you, bigger and faster, even more so with one of your limbs impaired. Talking him out of this is your only chance of preventing whatever he has in store for you. “You’re sick, you must be delirious from a very high fever.”
“Love your taste.” He’s clinging to you, head tucked into the crook of your neck as he laps at you with his tongue. The moist, flexible muscle undulates across your collarbone when he goes further down, pouty lips closing in to suck at the juncture of your shoulder, right above your artery. “Wanna bite you so bad.”
“You’re not making any sense.” He’s completely disregarding your words, though he smiles at your breathy tone.
You press your mouth shut and close your eyes when he rakes the pointy edges of his teeth over your veins, not wanting him to hear or see how his ministrations are beginning to affect you. You hadn’t realized until that moment just how sharp his canines were, closer to fangs than anything else.
He tugs at the collar of your shirt, ripping the cloth with outstanding ease and exposing your bra. By that point, your own breathing was labored, the mounds of your breasts bouncing up and down in their tight confinement as you heaved.
Dean’s irises are radioactive green when he feasts his eyes at you and proceeds to stick his face in your cleavage. He groans like a madman and pulls at one of the cups of your brassiere, your right tit spilling out and being clutched by him almost immediately.
He traps your nipple between his index and middle fingers, teasing it to a stiff peak and you shake at the burst of pleasure. You grab at his forearms to steady yourself, swallowing down a moan that threatens to escape you.
“Let me hear you.” He yanks your head back from where he holds you by your scruff, as a dog would do to another, and you let out a whine at the bestial way he handles you. “That’s right, don’t hold back on me, give me everything.” He takes your puffy nipple into his mouth, suckling and biting, and a fire spreads through your lower abdomen at the sinful sensation.
Once he ceases his assault on your boob, the tumid bud is covered in his spit, the chilling air from the ventilation system making it that much more sensitive.
His hands fly to unbutton your pants, and you’re so dazed from his heady presence all around that you allow it for a minute, only moving to intercept him when he has both of his hands hooked at the waistband of your jeans and is already tugging them down.
“Dean, we gotta stop this.” You beg him, a considerable amount of your restraint lost as you fail to convince him, his hands too strong for you to swat away while he peels off your jeans. The material sticks to the dry blood around your cut, making you flinch, but he continues till the garment hits the ground, cooing an apology for your discomfort. “There’s something wrong with you, you’re not yourself.”
He pays you no mind, transfixed by the image of you laid in front of him only in your underwear. He looks even bigger than when you first arrived, thick neck bulging with raised veins and rippling muscles straining under his shirt.
“You smell ripe.” His voice is hoarse and booming, a feral edge emanating from him when he kneels before you. He brings his head close to the gash on your upper thigh, hypnotized by the blood that oozed from it, filling his lungs with the scent of your arousal mixed with your blood. “You’re good enough to eat.”
The ends of his white teeth sparkle in the artificial light coming from the lamp in the ceiling, appearing to be razor-sharp. It gives him an ominous aura that causes you to shiver under his unrelenting glare, and he smirks at you, wrapping his hand around your legs to prevent you from moving.
His lips graze the inflamed skin around your wound and you squirm at the contact, fearful of what he might do next. The talons at the ends of his fingers scratch at you as a warning to stay still, and you do, gasping when you feel the scrape of his tongue on your tore flesh.
“This can’t be happening.” You say to yourself as you watch him hunched over you, smacking his lips at the taste of your blood, as if you were a rare delicacy and he was hungry.
His first couple of licks stung, causing the muscles of your thigh to contract involuntarily, a torrent of purrs coming your way in an effort to alleviate your distress. But as his saliva coated your broken skin, the soreness subsided and the pain was numbed. All you could feel then was the strange but far from unpleasant sensation of his continuous lapping, a spark of neediness shooting up from where he was laving his tongue at you, making your middle throb and pulsate.
He grunted, looking up at you as if he could sense your craving, as if he could smell it. His left hand travels up your leg, stopping by the fabric of your panties, pushing it to the side, and uncovering your glistening cunny.
You feel his licking on your cut becoming sloppy as he salivates and his fingers move to caress the top of your pussy. He presses gently on the hood of your clit, revealing the swollen bundle of nerves to his eyes that shine with a desperate desire.
“Look at how wet you are.” He mutters, mouth colored with a slick shade of crimson. The pads of his fingers rub up and down your slit, gathering the moisture seeping from your clenching hole to massage your flushed bead of pleasure. “You’re so precious.”
The praise goes straight to your pulsing center, molten lava settling in the pit of your stomach, and you mewl shamefully when the back and forth of his fingers makes your pussy gush.
You never thought Dean would do something like this to you. He had always treated you like a baby sister, while he was the overbearing, overly protective older brother.
He’d comment on the length of your skirts and on the tightness of your blouses, going so far as to deny you rides to places if you didn’t change into something he thought of as appropriate.
He’d hang around you at bars, hovering too close, keeping any and all interested guys from interacting with you.
He had always seen you as a kid, and now there he is, sucking on the lacerated flesh of your thigh like it was his last meal and fingering the sopping place between your legs.
“Please!” You cry out, no longer sure if you’re pleading for him to stop or to keep going.
“You want more?” You answer your own internal question by nodding enthusiastically to his, and Dean groans and drools on your open cut as he inserts two of his long, thick fingers into your scorching hot cunt. “You need more to cum, princess?”
Your lips form a perfect o when he breaches your tight, gummy walls, stirring your insides until he finds the spongy, tender spot he was searching for and fucks it with come-hither motions, over and over, again and again.
“Oh, my God, Dean!” You wail, high-pitched and wanton, losing all your inhibitions and bucking your hips in time with the flicks of his wrist as he drills his callused digits inside you, roughly and repeatedly, without giving you time to adjust to his incursion.
“That’s right, squeeze my fingers.” His voice was low and heavy, laced with untamed ferociousness, akin to the rumbling of a snarling wolf. But even with his lips gleaming with the ruby substance from your wound that he insisted on licking, speaking between the obscene slurps, Dean managed to rein in his most primal instincts to encourage your free-fall into bliss. “You can let go whenever you want, sweetheart, I’m right here.”
You revel under his coaxing, under his reassuring words. You didn’t know how much his approval would affect you, embarrassingly loud wet noises coming from your soaking folds while he hits that place inside of you that makes your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out.
All your life you dreamed of having Dean’s validation, and now he was showering you in it, your cunny fluttering at his constant moans and grunts of elation, even though you haven't touched him once. His satisfaction came from giving you pleasure.
That burning euphoria mounts up and up till it snaps and you fall down the precipice. A rush of pure, untainted ecstasy overtakes you and you scream, the drive of his fingers scissoring your spasming walls prolonging your orgasm.
As you lay there, atop the light-up table, a panting and heaving mess, Dean slowly withdraws his fingers from you, making you squirm and whine at the absence.
There's some movement happening around you, the rustling sound of clothes hitting the floor along with the metallic clank of a buckle. You barely register the lack of his mouth on your injured leg, any ounce of pain that you once felt coming from it having been entirely erased.
You sense him grabbing the sides of your panties and ripping the fine cloth with quick, firm hands, and you still can't find it in yourself to react while the flimsy pieces of fabric are rendered into useless scraps that fall off of your body.
But the blunt end of his dick searing into you is what brings you back to reality, the feel of his girth stretching you in ways you didn't even know were possible being too much to ignore.
The whole thing was too much. The position that you were in, with your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips yet again just so they don't dangle off the table. The noises coming from both of you, broken sobs that begged for more of that violent jolt of adrenaline. And, of course, the incomparable sensation of being split open by the biggest cock you've ever taken.
“You're doing so good, kiddo.” You make grabby hands at him when you hear him call you that, whimpering pathetically, and he leans over you to plant a sloppy kiss on your lips.
Some sick part of your brain brings forth all the times he hugged you when you were still a teen. The way his huge hands would squeeze the small of your back and your tits would rub up on him as you stood on your tippy-toes to receive his embrace. The way he would linger a little too long and bend his neck to steal a whiff of your hair.
He pinches the side of your belly and you gasp, his tongue seizing the opportunity to force its entrance into the warm cavern of your mouth. You scratch the skin of his nape and pull on the short hairs on the back of his head, moaning at the slick, pornographic kiss.
His lips close around your tongue and he sucks on it, slurping noises filling the room as he pounds into you, his heavy balls hitting your dripping pussy and squelching over and over.
“Keep taking all of it.” He breaks the kiss to whisper in your ear, filthy words in that baritone voice littering you with goosebumps. “Be a big girl and take all of this dick.”
You let out a puff of hot air and nod at him, promising to do your best as he spears the fat head of his shaft in and out of you with abandon.
His sweat begins to blend in with yours and you tug at the hem of his shirt, wholeheartedly annoyed at the fact that he was still wearing it at all. Dean chuckles, all sharp and pointy teeth that could rip into you and take out a chunk of your flesh, but instead, he spoils you and removes the offending garment, putting his hands over his head and pulling the shirt from behind till it is off, tossing it aside without a second thought.
You grope the span of his torso, from his broad shoulders to his barrel chest, and then his defined abdomen. There was definitely something unusual going on below the surface, an unlimited potential he kept trying to contain. As if he could grow bigger, become somehow larger, change right before your eyes.
You feel your way through the taut muscles under his skin, running your palms down his powerful arms and back up to his wide neck. He gulps under your scrutiny, your hands catching the way his throat bobs and his pupils shrink then dilate again, seemingly as mesmerized by you as you are by him.
He takes your right hand and brings it to his face, mouthing the pulse point, scenting you as he fucks you, the hammering of his length into your cunny growing erratic. He licks and sucks and scrapes his fangs on your wrist, almost to the point of breaking the fragile skin, groaning as you whine desperately.
The more he rams into you, molding you to the shape of his absurdly hard member, the more you come to terms with the fact that he has ruined you to any other man. Because why would you seek someone else's touch when you know only Dean Winchester and his monster dick have the power to obliterate your pussy?
With his free hand, he applies pressure to your clit, swiping the rigid pearl up and down and side to side, ignoring your pleas for mercy as you find yourself on the verge of overstimulation.
“Come on, kiddo, give me another one.” He commands, tone silky and honeyed, but still imposing and domineering in a way that if he were to tell you to jump, all you could do would be to ask how high. “I know you can give me another one.” He keeps going, thumb relentlessly playing with your pleasure point. “Cum again for me.”
You yell, honest to God yell, unsure if you can survive the wave of heat that burns in your loins when your cunt compresses around him, all the nerve endings in your body vibrating simultaneously while you cum.
Because he fucked you so good, because he rubbed you just right, because he said so.
As the dam breaks, a sudden spurt of hot, slippery fluids pours forth from your slit. A copious outflow of liquid cascades from you and lands on Dean's pelvis and his lower stomach.
“Fuck!” You elongate the word, sobbing due to the unmatched delight you experience like you never experienced before. The feeling boarding on too much and not enough at the same time, Dean's fingers continuing to grind against your center even as you squirt all over him.
“What a messy girl.” He grins, iridescently green eyes sparkling atypically, fingers finally quitting their assault on your raw clit, your cunt contracting around his veiny cock from the aftershocks of your mind-blowing release. “Spraying your juices everywhere.” He tuts and pulls out from you, inch by inch, agonizingly slow.
You give out a pitiful lament at the loss and at his taunting words, the noise that comes from your throat utterly unbecoming of a grown woman, but you can't seem to care at this point.
“I'm sorry, I didn't know I-” Dean interrupts your expression of regret with the full weight of his dominant hand landing between your legs, slapping your puffy folds, and making you writhe on top of the table.
“Don't fucking apologize.” He snarls, leaning over to bury his nose in the crook of your neck and swipe his tongue on your feverish skin. “You did so good, I'm covered in your scent and everyone's gonna know.”
You mewl like a bitch in heat when he starts to jerk the span of his shaft on top of you, the mushroom head catching on your entrance from time to time while he strokes himself from base to glans. Precum weeps from the bulbous end and mixes with your own wetness.
“Gotta mark you now.” He tells you like it's the most normal thing in the world, like it's obvious. His hot breath tickles your neck, the tips of his sharp teeth almost piercing your soft flesh and you shiver at the idea that he still might just lose control and do it.
You crane your head down and do your best to steal a glance at the steady rhythm he's building, managing to stare in awe as he pumps the meat of his member.
The tender tissue is flushed and throbbing in his firm grasp, his balls tensing up, full of pent-up energy. You can't believe how big it is, beautifully cut and well groomed. Painfully hard and thick, so thick you don’t even understand how it had entered you.
He grunts and squeezes the round edge before picking up his pace, not knowing where to look as his eyes roam from your swollen lips to your pert nipples, and then your quivering pussy.
“Gonna make you smell like me.” He mumbles, muscles straining and veins bulging, steaming ropes of white bursting from his urethra and landing on your face, on your boobs, and on your belly.
Dean roars as he covers you in his spent, dense and sticky and endless shots of cum painting you. You whine in surprise, licking off some of the substance that got on your lips. He tastes rich and tangy, full of a power unknown to you but still palpable, making your tongue tingle and your throat burn when you swallow.
He's out of breath and so are you, but he doesn't allow you time to recompose yourself since he's already rubbing his release over your belly, taking a glob of it and smearing it on your slit. You thrash about because the feeling is too overwhelming, but he holds you in place and pushes his seed into your welcoming hole.
“You look gorgeous like this.” He says, reverence in his tone while he bites your earlobe and stuffs you with his essence. “Absolutely gorgeous.”
You don't know what to say, you don't know how to act. You hadn't expected to be categorically ravished by the man you had always seen as an older brother today.
In the back of your mind, you knew he wasn't that Dean, the Dean you knew your whole life, at least not fully.
Something inhuman drummed beneath his emerald eyes, the familiar hazel long gone by now. And any shadow of doubt that you might have had about his feral state is pulverized when you feel his length harden again against your inner thigh.
There’s no refractory period and you scream as he bullies that fat dick inside you once more, feeding it into you more carefully this time.
“Holy shit!” You're hoarse, sinking your nails into his shoulders and drawing blood.
How can he be hard? How is that even possible?
He hisses when he bottoms out, filling you to the brim. His rough hands find leverage on the meat of your hips, clasping each side firmly before he begins to pound into you. He uses you as a cock sleeve, lusciously scraping the ridges of his hard-on against your clammy walls.
You can't find your voice, the room spins around you, and your head bangs on the hard surface of the table in time with his thrusts.
You can feel everything. Every nook and cranny that he reaches in you. The twitch of his shaft every time he hits your cervix. The furniture that supports you creaking below.
“Mine.” He proclaims, the smacking of his sweaty skin on yours upping in tempo, the dirty noises the two of you make bordering on offensive. “Say it, say you're mine.” It's an order and you want to comply, but your brain has turned into a scrambled, useless thing so all that comes out of you is a prolonged whimper.
Dean isn't able to handle your unresponsiveness, growling loudly and inflicting another slap where you are most sensitive, a broken sob erupting from you at the contact.
“Tell me who the fuck you belong to, kiddo.” His voice is so velvety it makes your eyes roll.
He’s everywhere all at once, you can’t see or hear or smell anything else but him. Somehow he’s still growing inside you and your lungs burn because you keep forgetting to breathe. You forget your own name in favor of being the center of his world in this moment.
“I- I'm yours.” You croak out, tears getting caught by your lashes, convinced that the speed in which he pumps in and out of you should be criminal. “I'm yours, Dean."
He pulls violently on your hair and howls, guttural and wild, the base of his member expanding impossibly larger still and stretching your opening when he begins to cum inside you. You try to pull away, but you physically can’t, not with the way he pins you down and plugs your cunt with his knot.
How did that happen? How did you end up here?
“This isn’t real.” You think you say it out loud, but maybe you didn’t and there’s no way of knowing for sure.
You can still feel him pulsating and ejecting spurt after spurt of his milk into you, purring so loudly you can’t even hear your own thoughts.
He rests his head on your chest, the both of you stuck to each other until you don’t know when, but he seems content with that. His fingertips draw irregular shapes up and down the expanse of your arm as he regains his wind much quicker than you do.
You stay like this with him, and at some point, he senses something you don’t and tenses up, straightening his back to look to the right of him, careful not to tug where he’s joined to you.
“Dean!” You faintly catch Sam’s voice when he shouts, but it’s muffled by the ringing in your ears.
The younger Winchester is standing by the end of the staircase, features overtaken by shock, a syringe filled with blood in his hand as he stares bug-eyed at the scene before him.
His brother on top of you while you lay naked on the table in the middle of the bunker, covered in cum and trapped on his dick, eyes dazed and blissed out, panting through parted lips.
Dean looks at Sam, then at you, then back at Sam. The supernatural glow in his irises dies down and he seems like his true self for the first time since you got there, brows furrowing while he clicks his tongue and considers the situation.
“Listen.” He raises his index finger at the furious brunet, a sheepish grin on the corners of his mouth. “In my defense, the moon was full and I was left unsupervised.”
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I. Lights Out
Word Count: 2,7 k
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley X F! Reader
Content: zombie apocalypse, mention of dead bodies, mention of death, children
Summary: A virus has taken over the world, turning people into zombies. Amidst the chaos, Simon has managed to stick together with the other operators of Task Force 141, his life barely any different than it was before. That is, until the day he crosses paths with a woman that keeps a well hidden secret and holds something he has long forgotten existed: a baby
Note: This is my first fic (and first tumblr post)! Hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I already have the story planned out, and will be posting the next chapter soon if anyone cares about this. If not, I’ll pretend I never posted this lol
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Sitting on the back of the Humvee, Simon could almost believe that things were normal. The constant hum of the engine numbed his mind, as he stared into the sewing of the padding covering the old seat. Soap was seated directly across from him, blabbing his mouth to Gaz, who acted like he could hear anything besides the huge vehicle's obscene noise. Behind the steering wheel was his Captain, Price. Although, that didn’t seem to matter anymore. Not ranks, not names. Nothing was normal, and the reality outside that Humvee was something Simon, not even in his worst days, ever believed could happen.
He had witnessed bleak images. Cruelty in abundance. But the world he saw now was unlike anything he had ever seen before - the dead, roaming among the living. Not that he hadn’t encountered his fair amount of corpses, after all, that came with his job. But this, seeing the bodies of civilians, once full of life, now life-less and decaying at an evolving speed, nonetheless persisting, chasing the taste of human meet… It was different.
When the early signs of the apocalypse started to show, most of the people downplayed it, him included. He had always been a skeptic, and it just didn’t seem viable that a virus could bring down humanity with such strength. Regardless, Simon hadn’t been too worried about the so-called “end of the world”; He thought that his military ties would be enough to keep him informed with privileged intel of the real situation.
He had been deployed with the 141, far from civilization, when shit really went down. For obvious reasons, they came out empty-handed from the recon mission. Turns out terrorism doesn’t come first in the list of the insurgent’s priorities when there is a deathly virus going around. It was only at his team's fruitless attempt to land back at base that he found out that his ranks and years of service didn’t matter when the world was collapsing. They had been out for long enough that, when they came back, there was no more government in place. No hierarchy to follow, and no rules to structure society. And no one cared about them enough to let them know beforehand.
Some people had stayed in their houses, probably clutching their kitchen knives close to their hearts while they heard their neighbor's inhuman noises. Others had divided themselves into smaller groups, in the hopes of giving humanity a fighting chance. The lucky ones had made it to what once were the quarantine zones, now just simply a bigger group of people that managed to stick together and with far better resources. From there, all the typical apocalyptic mayhem developed: gangs, revolutionary groups, miracle safe spaces, cults, and so on. The chaos you would expect to see in a movie. Apparently, they weren’t that far from reality.
Along with the 141, Simon fell into the “smaller group” category - not that the four men would give humanity a fighting chance, they just didn’t really have anywhere else to go. Being military men, their lives revolved around structure and order, so it was natural for them to stick together. Whatever ties to the old world they had before had long been severed, and quickly they realized that it was less painful to hope that anyone they cared about had had the privilege of dying a quick death.
Not that that mattered to Simon either. He didn’t have anyone. So sitting at the back of that Humvee they had stolen from an abandoned base, things didn’t feel that different from what they used to be.
Soon enough, the group expanded, thanks to Soap, who had managed to fix an old radio and get in touch with a few other military personnel who were scattered around the globe. That is how they found Laswell: she had managed to seclude a select group of people from the military in one of the bases that were abandoned in the turmoil. They didn’t mention that she never tried to contact them while they were away on that recon mission, and she didn’t bring it up either. Now, over two years had passed, and the topic was long forgotten.
They were a bunch of people tied together by the hope they could still save humanity: scientists, agents, medics… Everyone had their place in the small society Laswell had created. And Simon… Well, he was a soldier. And soldiers are always useful when in the right hands. That was why things hadn’t changed much for him, and for the first time in his life, the fact that he never had a home to come back to was a relief.
Price was currently driving towards an abandoned research post, that had once been filled with people working to find a cure for the virus that plagued the world. Now, it was just a pile of junk and hopelessness, where Laswell swore they could still find valuable intel - maybe someone had forgotten to scrub their hard drive, or left behind a notebook with notes. At this point, even a post-it with bullet points would be considered a success.
As they pulled up to the location, they decided to park a few meters away from the entrance and proceeded with the skillfulness of a well-oiled machine. Soap and Gaz cleaned the era, taking out the few zombies in the vicinity with their knives, as Price and Ghost scanned for any intelligent life form that could possibly cause trouble. Not that they were expecting to find anything, it was just a precaution, as anyone who once lived there had either fled the area or become another roaming corpse.
They were about to follow the small dirt path that led to the makeshift building when Gaz held up his hand, a signal to stay put, while he used the other to hold the thermal vision glasses to his eyes. “I’m reading two heat signatures - one small and the other even smaller. Looks like it could be a woman and a child. The woman seems to be armed.”
“Let me see this, Gaz.” Says Price as he analyzes the scene himself. “He is right. Two signatures, one is armed.” Gaz makes a look of mock surprise behind the Captain, as he hadn’t just said that. He had become a lot more sassy since he could not be demoted.
“What do we do now?” Soap asks. “It’s not like we can just shoot a kid.”
Price pretends not to hear the last sentence. “I will approach, unarmed. They are probably just scared and trying to find a safe place to live. I’ll tell them we can give them some of our food if they come out and let us take a look at the place.” Before anyone can suggest an alternative, the Captain is removing his guns from the holster, and making his way towards the old science lab.
He is only a few feet away when the sound of gunshots fills the air. The bullets, all aimed just inches away from the captain’s boots, trace a line as if saying “Do not come any closer”. Immediately, the rest of the 141 aim their guns at where the shots came from, taking cover behind the trees, waiting for permission to shoot from the Captain, one that never comes.
“STAY THE FUCK AWAY!” A woman’s voice rings in their ears. This confirms part of what they had seen in the thermal goggles: there was a woman inside and she was, indeed, armed.
“I just want to talk, kid.” Price states calmly, standing his ground. He doesn’t take a step forward, so the shooter doesn’t feel challenged, but doesn’t take a step back either. He is not a man that backs away from a fight. “Name’s John. No need to shoot”.
“You can tell that to your men.” The woman is positioned behind a window, the scope of her gun pointing fearlessly at the bearded man. Not expertly, Simon notes to himself, as he can see the slight tremble that reverberates through the metal parts. Although her voice screams confidence, he can tell the person behind it is not as courageous. But she would probably still shoot that gun - Simon has seen more people pulling triggers out of fear than bravery.
“Alright. Stand down, boys.” And they do. “We just want to take a look around, we don’t want trouble”
The woman laughs. “You say, as you carry automatic weapons and wear a bulletproof vest.”
“Just protecting myself from these troublesome fellas around. You know, the ones with their face falling off, trying to eat people.”
“We both know no one needs that much gear to fight some brain-dead walkers.” She doesn’t seem to want to match the light-hearted tone John is trying to bring to the conversation. “Now get out, or my men will shoot you.”
Now it’s Price’s turn to laugh. “Sweetheart, we both know there’s no one else there with you.” He puts both his hands on the shoulder straps of his vest. “That is, except for the child.”
John was just trying to assert his dominance by showing he had more information than he had let on. However, an angry string of bullets directed toward his feet, again, showed that the comment had struck a nerve. “Get out.” She said through gritted teeth, loud enough for him to hear. “Or the next ones are going straight through that stupid fucking hat of yours.”
“Listen here, kid.” The Captain was angry now. He didn’t like when people commented on his hat. “I have three men ready to shoot your ass into oblivion if you don’t comply. If you can’t tell, they are military-trained, and they will have you down before you can aim at my stupid fucking hat. So quit being dumb and put that gun down.” It was surprising he had let her go as far as shooting at him twice, but he was done negotiating.
“Are you with the Resistance?” Simon almost wants to laugh at that name. The Resistance was a group that, surprise, surprise, wanted to resist the Government. People have too much faith in the Government, in his opinion, as it had crumbled before he came back from his mission. To be fair, it had been a long mission, so maybe he was being a little harsh. Now, the Resistance was a group of rebels that had nothing to rebel against, and who, ironically, had become the closest thing to a government you could have nowadays.
“No, we are not.” Simon could tell John’s patience was wearing thin. He isn’t a big fan of the Resistance either. “We are a group that’s still trying to fix things in this goddam world and that lab might have valuable information. Now let us through.”
At that, the woman puts the gun down and stands up. She probably didn’t know that, but by the tone of his Captaion’s voice, she had probably taken her last chance to avoid a conflict. “Name’s Y/N.” She says. Simon can see her face now - she looks like she is in her early twenties, with long hair tied in a tight ponytail. She disappears behind the window again, coming out the front door with a baby in her left arm and a pistol in her right hand. “I’m keeping the gun.”
“Suit yourself. Come on, boys.” With that, the three of them are taken out of their trance. He knows what they were thinking because he was thinking the same. Who in their right mind has a baby in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? Either this woman was crazy brave or crazy crazy. A baby was a rare sight, a healthy one even more so. But there she stood, baby in her arms and a furious gaze.
They walk past her and her gaze only intensifies. Clearly, the woman was hiding from something, or someone. But that was neither here nor there. They were on a mission, and they were going through with it regardless. Nothing had ever stood in 141’s way.
They don’t ask the baby’s name. Simon had a feeling she might point her gun to his head if he did. Not that he was curious, he could care less about the women or the child.
She doesn’t ask their names either. After all, there is no reason for formalities. If all goes well, they will be gone as suddenly as they appeared.
Inside, the lab was what you would have expected, except for a few things that showed that someone had been living there. It wasn’t hard to find their way around the place, although incredibly annoying to do when there was a five-something-foot-tall woman following them around with a disapproving look. He understood - after all, they were in her house. However, that wasn’t even a house in the first place. Simon tried to mock an equally disapproving look while scavaging for something useful. As if reading his mind, Johnny asks “May I ask why you are living here, of all places? I mean, there are real houses across the street, lass.” Always a gentleman, he was. He could tell the scot had put real effort into that sentence not to sound judgmental.
The building wasn’t too messy, courtesy of the current tenant. It wasn’t too big either. It resembled a house from the outside, and had two stories: the bottom floor looked pretty much like a regular house. It had one room filled with a not-so-normal number of beds, a bathroom, a simple kitchen, and tables everywhere, where it looked like people used to do research and eat, probably simultaneously. The top floor, on the other hand, seemed like something from another world: Wires covered the walls, feeding energy to dozens of different lab-related equipment. Some were big, some were small, and Simon couldn’t name them if his life depended on it.
“The place runs on solar energy. So the showers and appliances installed still work. Except for the cameras, I shut them down a long time ago, along with all this science crap.” So Simon’s intuition was right, she was hiding from something, and knew too much about the place for her to just have stumbled upon it on pure luck. They had already looked at the cameras and made sure that they weren’t working. They were small, installed mostly where it looked like the scientific research went down and at the entrance. She must have been looking for them, as he was pretty sure a regular civilian wouldn’t have been able to spot all of the cameras. But she did, despite the fact that it looked like those were the parts of the house that she used the least. And although Simon's first reaction was to be suspicious, he couldn’t deny that part of him was impressed.
“Smart.” Gaz said, but his tone seemed to reflect some suspicion as well. He had been sitting down in front of a computer since they arrived, trying to recover any data, while the rest of them tossed things around. Unfortunately for them, the scientists who had previously worked there had remembered to scrub the place clean - no documents or information was left behind. “Price, I think I got something.”
Whatever Gaz had been doing in that giant computer, seemed to have worked, as it looked like files were being restored. But the victory was short-lived, and they hardly had time to gather around the machine before the energy shut down. “What happened?” Soap asked.
“I don’t know, it looked like it was working.” Gaz proceeded to furiously tap the keyboard, probably having no idea what he was doing.
“Well, get it to work again then.”
“It’s not that simple, Soap.” As fast as the power went out, it came back on, and the distinct beep of the weird machines splattered around the place could be heard again. “It seems like the whole place rebooted. It was probably easier for them to have all the controls gathered in one place. Simpler.”
But Simon wasn’t focused on Gaz’s explanation. He was focused on the cameras, that he had physically confirmed were shut down, now red light shining bright. Apparently, the machines weren’t the only thing that had turned back on. “Shit.” He heard the woman say behind him. Her face was pale, and she hugged the baby tightly, shielding the child’s face against her chest.
Whatever she was hiding, Simon was willing to bet all his money it had to do with that baby.
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Bakugo X Reader
*Found Out*
This is an excerpt from a ridiculously long fic I made purely for my own entertainment. If you enjoy it let me know, if you don’t… *shrugs* reblogs are welcome , please do not share on other sites 💕
The title of the entire fic is actually “Quarantine with Benefits” but this is a stand alone snippet so I named it differently.
NSFW - DNI if under 18 - yes bish it has smuuut you’ve been warned.
Warnings: some violence, cringy as hell, unprotected sex (if I miss any let me know I guess)
Category: BakugoXFem!Reader , smut , angst , dumb feelings , KirishimaXFem!Reader mentioned but was never an actual thing , Kirishima is a pervert and a little crazy
When Kirishima got home that day and heard the primal moans coming from his roommates bedroom, he had smirked and even chuckled a little. His best friend Bakugo had been in a terrible mood for months, maybe he would lighten up a little after this. It was hardly an inconvenience to Kirishima in any case—Bakugo never brought girls back home and it was such a rare occurrence he was more curious than irritated at the explosive sounds of passion echoing through the apartment.
He had planned on just putting away the groceries he had brought home and then leaving for a few hours to go to the gym so Bakugo and his... visitor would have plenty of privacy. That plan quickly went to shit.
As he walked down the hall to sneak into his bedroom and grab his gym bag he halted when he heard what seemed like a very familiar female voice ringing out in pure euphoria. His earlier curiosity at who this visitor could possibly be began to overwhelm him. Was it a mutual friend? Or maybe some pro hero he knew?
“Right there- Katsu- mmhmmm!” He couldn’t deny the twitch he felt in his shorts at the luscious sounds - gods, he could hear everything so clearly - and despite himself, he turned from his own doorway to look toward Bakugo’s room.
The door was open ever so slightly, as if whoever had entered had attempted to close it but was too distracted. Kirishima was ashamed at the heat he could feel building in his core, almost disgusted by the increasing arousal he was feeling. He knew- knew - that he should just leave right then, but something in him couldn’t bear the thought.
“That’s right— agh, fuck — tell me what you want (Y/N)—“ Bakugo’s voice was strained, broken. Kirishima’s heart stopped.
Surely he heard wrong.
There was no way.
Bakugo knew how Kirishima felt about you. It would be completely against the bro code to go after you after Kirishima had pined over you for years. He wouldn’t just take you for himself, right? He wouldn’t betray him like this... would he?
His feet moved without him really registering what was happening. Years of hero work had provided him with stealthily quiet steps- even if you weren’t so...distracted you wouldn’t have noticed his presence. Kirishima peered through the crack in the door, at war with himself. His brain was screaming for him to look away, just leave... but his falling heart won and continued to urge him forward almost against his own will. He peered through the crack in the door, holding his breath as best as he could.
For a moment, he couldn’t see just who his friend was hooking up with; all he could see was the muscular expanse of Bakugo’s back, two long, shapely legs wrapped around his waist while he pounded into the woman’s soft, bruising flesh. He watched as Bakugo lowered his head, heard the demented gasps and pants and then the wet sounds of what seemed to be an incredibly passionate kiss.
Feminine arms wrapped up and around his neck, pulling him closer, dainty hands clawing down his back when he complied.
“(Y/N)—“ Bakugo moaned your name again, and Kirishima could practically hear his own heart shattering.
Having been best friends since high school, Kirishima had heard (and unfortunately walked in on) his friend in a few lewd situations before, but he knew immediately this was different. He noticed the way Bakugo caressed your thigh gently as he slowed his pace, melting into your chest and swallowing your moans with his mouth like they were honey.
This wasn’t just a hook up. Not to Bakugo.
Kirishima was becoming overwhelmed with emotion as he flipped around, unable to watch anymore. He slumped into the wall, though this was unbearable he had apparently become a glutton for punishment and couldn’t bring himself to leave.
“Katsuki— please, faster... I’m— mmmph! I’m so c-close!”
“No. Not until you admit it.” Bakugo growled like some sort of feral beast, but Kiri could hear the undertone of need in his voice. He was begging you for something. What? What more could he possibly want from you?
“Katsu— you know I can’t- I - I can’t.”
“Then maybe I should just stop.”
“God, no! Don’t stop- please, please don’t stop!”
“Then say it.” Bakugo paused. “Say it, damn it!” His voice rang out almost violently- the pathetic whimper from you almost sprung Kirishima into action. If Bakugo was hurting you he swore he would—
“Y-you’re the only one for me Katsuki...” The words were yours. Quiet, but definitely yours.
“Louder.” The slapping sound of sweaty flesh increased in pace suddenly.
“You’re the only one!” You yelled out, voice raw with desire.
“Fuck— again.” Bakugo’s thrusts sounded even more desperate now, like he was trying with everything he had not to come undone.
“Fu- I —- hah—- I’m yours, Katsuki Bakugo— I’m all y-your-fuuuuck— God I fucking love you!”
The two of you moaned as you came together and Kirishima remained standing outside of the door , simply empty and stunned. He knew he needed to leave. His legs felt like lead, he felt the sting of tears threatening to leave his eyes.
He was completely destroyed.
A long silence lapsed as Kirishima tried to collect enough air in his lungs- had it always been this hard to breathe?
“Did you mean it?” He heard a muffled Bakugo, speaking to you. His tone was softer and sweeter than Kirishima had ever heard, fragile, like his entire world’s existence depended on your answer to his question.
There was a long pause from you, then what sounded like a kiss.
“Katsu... I... it’s complicated. You know we can’t-“
“I didn’t ask if we can, idiot. I asked if you love me.” Another pause, another sweet kiss.
“Yes.” You replied this time without restraint. “Yes, I love you.”
That was it. The last straw. Kirishima’s body moved before he could even think, heading to the front door and slamming it as hard as he could behind him.
***
“What the fuck was that?” You asked, shooting up from your place underneath Bakugo. He reflexively rolled off of you, also alarmed by the sudden slamming sound.
“It’s probably Kirishima.” His face blanched, his voice thick with what sounded like dread.
“Fuck do you think he-“ You began but couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence.
“I don’t know. Hold on.” Bakugo stood and shuffled on his discarded sweatpants before leaving the room. He was trying to look casual, you could tell, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. You sat there for a moment, covering yourself in his sheets protectively, waiting for him obediently. Finally he returned.
“He’s gone now. But he was definitely here.”
“Do you think-“
“He heard us? Fuck yeah I do. You weren’t exactly quiet, princess.” Bakugo spoke with a mild smirk, but his tone made his concern evident.
“Shit.” You collapsed onto the bed for a moment, silence filling the room at your declaration.
How had you gone from insanely happy to pure panic in a manner of moments? The maelstrom of emotion began to overtake you. You needed to leave.
Rolling out of the bed clumsily you searched for your jeans- pulling them on quickly before beginning your search for your other clothes.
“What are you doing?” Bakugo asked, gruffly. You didn’t answer, your heart racing as guilt began to flood through you. Finding your shirt you yanked it on. “Yo. Brat. I asked you a question.”
You still didn’t want to answer, at any possible moment the dam could burst and you didn’t want to cry in front of Bakugo. Not now, not ever. As you began storming towards the door he grabbed your arm.
“(Y/N). Talk to me.” His voice was strained.
“I can’t right now Bakugo.” You shoved his arm off. “This is all... it’s just too much. I can’t do this.” Without looking at him you stormed out as quickly as you could.
For months now you had denied your feelings for Bakugo because you knew it was wrong on so many levels. He was best friends with Kirishima. Your Kirishima. You cursed yourself for being such a fickle woman. Not long ago you thought you wanted Kiri. Then you go and fuck his best friend. Worse than that; you had fallen in love with Bakugo even though your feelings for Kirishima remained unresolved.
You felt weak. Cruel. Dirty.
You hated yourself.
***
What the hell?
Bakugo was dumbstruck. Finally, you had admitted what he had known for a while— you had finally told him you loved him too. He was the happiest man in the world for exactly ten seconds.
And then fucking Kirishima happened.
Did you still have feelings for that asshole? Was that the problem? And what about Kirishima? How much did he know now?
Bakugo tried to take his mind off of it, going through a few beers while he zoned out to whatever was on the TV. He couldn’t pay attention, his mind was racing. Should he have chased after you? No, whatever you were going through right now would probably be better figured out without him. But what if he lost you and his best friend in the same day? He didn’t think he would ever be able to recover.
He cursed himself for being so goddamn weak. He knew the first time he had ever touched you it wouldn’t end well. Fuck, he knew the first day he saw you that you would destroy him.
Before you, he would have resolved this emptiness he was feeling by punching something, by going out and beating some poor asshole half to death. Old Bakugo would be flipping his shit now, but he reminded himself old Bakugo wouldn’t deserve you.
He needed to keep it the fuck together. Or he would definitely lose you.
He frowned into his beer, pretending to watch whatever was on. By the time Kirishima got back, he wouldn’t have been able to tell anything was wrong. Bakugo was completely casual, strung over the couch lazily and barely looking up when the front door opened.
“Hey bro!” Kirishima sounded as chipper as ever.
“Sup.” Bakugo returned the greeting. “You’re home late.”
“Gym.”
“Ah.”
“So—“ Bakugo looked over his shoulder, watching Kiri reach into the fridge and grab his own beer before walking back to the couch. “Had some company today, huh?” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically. Bakugo raised a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh come on— I came home for a bit earlier.” Kirishima smirked into his beer, but there was a glint in his eye that was making Bakugo uneasy.
“So?”
“Sheesh. I thought you might be in a better mood after what I heard.” He laughed, almost menacingly. “Guess she wasn’t that good, huh?” Bakugo clenched his jaw, feeling the anger bubbling inside but he tried to ignore it. He thought he could sense something in his friends tone, but if he was wrong... well he owed it to you to try not to start a fight over nothing.
“Oof, that bad, huh?” Kirishima snickered again.
“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo stood up and walked away, chugging the remainder of his beer before aggressively throwing the emptied bottle into the recycling bin. He was just going to head back to his room but Kirishima had already blocked his path by the time he turned around.
“Oh, did I strike a nerve? So what, is she like, your girlfriend or something?”
“None of your fucking business.” Bakugo scoffed, trying again to walk around Kirishima. The stubborn redhead wouldn’t quit, moving to block him off again.
“Now that definitely hit a nerve. Come on, Bakubro, let’s have a chat.” Okay. Bakugo definitely wasn’t imagining it. Kirishima was acting strange. “Answer the question. She your girlfriend?” Bakugo simply scowled, searching his friend’s eyes for clues on what the fuck he was thinking. “I’m guessing not based off of that reaction... so what, huh? She’s just some easy fuck?”
That was it. Bakugo lunged towards Kirishima, grabbing him by the collar and shoving him into a wall.
“Don’t ever fucking talk about her like that or I will fucking end you.” He growled through his teeth, his free palm already crackling in suspense.
“I know.” Kirishima spat. “I know it was (Y/N). You fucking asshole!” Kirishima had used his quirk to harden his arm, landing an immediate uppercut to Bakugo which he hadn’t anticipated. Bakugo stumbled back, adjusting quickly into his fighting stance.
“Don’t make me kick your ass, shitty hair.”
“I can’t fucking believe you!” Kirishima ignored him, swinging again and trying to land another hit onto Bakugo’s face. Bakugo quickly dodged and Kirishima’s fist collided into the kitchen island instead, blowing a chunk of marble off, broken pieces littering the floor. “You fucking know how I feel about her! You asshole!” He tried to swing again with his opposite arm but Bakugo dodged again.
Kirishima was in a blind rage, desperate to land just one more blow. Despite beginning this fight, Bakugo focused on defense, reminding himself that you wouldn’t be happy to know he fucked up your precious ‘Kiri’.
“How could you do this to me, man?” Kirishima was panting heavily, hunched over, fists clenched like he still wanted to fight but his anger had turned into something softer. Something sadder.
“I-“ Bakugo struggled to speak. He had deliberately stepped aside the very first night he saw you and Kirishima meet. It was to this day his biggest regret. He wanted to explain everything— he wanted to convince Kirishima that he had made the only reasonable choice, that the first day he had seen you, a piece of him had been stitched into that moment— he had never been quite as whole as when he was with you. He wanted to explain that you were everything he didn’t know he needed but now he couldn’t live without, no matter the cost. Kirishima would understand if he could just feel what Bakugo felt. This wasn’t some crush, you were his weakness. His soul.
Of course, despite the recent influence you’d had on him, at the end of the day he was still Bakugo so he couldn’t actually bring himself to say any of that.
“Just… shut the fuck up, man.” Was all he could manage to say.
Even still, there must have been something in his voice or face that caused Kirishima to freeze. They stood for a moment, simply staring at each other. Neither could bring themselves to speak for a while.
“Fuck, dude. You have to be kidding me.” Kirishima uttered and stepped back for a minute, betrayal and shock written on his face. “Does she know?”
Bakugo’s heart sunk.
“You know what? I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you.” Bakugo’s sadness had turned back into his cool cover of resentment. “Fuck you. I’m leaving.” He stormed out, leaving Kirishima standing amongst a pile of rubble.
What a mess you all had created.
***
Your apartment buzzer went off, you moved to the door and checked the camera to see Bakugo standing there, hands shoved into his pockets.
“Go away Bakugo. I don’t want to see you.”
“Let me the fuck up, (Y/N). He knows.”
Your heart sank and with moderate hesitation you buzzed him up. You paced in front of your door, ripping it open as soon as you heard his footsteps in the hallway.
His eyes widened in surprise. He had lifted his hand to knock, apparently not expecting you to be so eager to talk. You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into your apartment before checking the hall in front of your door in a very paranoid fashion.
“Jesus, 007, calm the fuck down.” Bakugo snickered, despite himself.
“Shut up. Sit down. Tell me everything.”
“You’re pretty sexy when you’re being bossy, have I ever told you that?” He was leaning on the back of your couch, arms crossed as he admired you with an amused expression. You simply glared.
He exhaled sharply, walking around the couch before sinking into it.
“He was there. He knew it was you. He confronted me about it. Was pissed.”
“Oh god I hoped this wouldn’t happen.” You groaned.
“Embarrassed that someone knows you’re fucking me?”
“Yes, Bakugo. Because everything is always about you.” You rolled your eyes as you paced back and forth, chewing on your fingernail.
“What does it even fucking matter anyway, huh?” He said after a few moments of your anxious silence. At this you brought your head up to face him. “If he came here, right now. Said he wanted to be with you, what would you do? Huh? What the fuck would you do? Hours ago you’re creaming all over my cock saying you love me. You came to me, (Y/N). Not him. Me. You begged me to let you in, to make it all better. And I did. Because when it comes to you I do really stupid shit because I -“ It all came out in a tumble of words, the closest thing to confessing his tormented feelings he had ever gotten and would likely ever get but he couldn’t quite continue the last sentence. Your eyes widened, your throat dry and head spinning at the barrage of questions and lewd language.
“You still waiting for him to come around?” He kept going when you made no move to say anything and he could collect himself. “If he showed up right here, right fucking now, would I not be good enough? Is that fucking it?”
“Katsuki- no- I-“
“Well then I need to fucking know what the fuck I mean to you. It’s time, (Y/N).” He stood up, now. “I-“ another deep breath as he walked over to you. “Despite the fact that you’re a complete fucking idiot I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person. I want you. In every way. If that’s not for you, or you want him, this ends here. Now. I’m not-“ he swallowed, now unable to look at you at all. “I’m not coming after you anymore. You decide. I’m done.”
He walked to the door, closing it softly behind him while you were left to stand staring at the empty space he had occupied, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks in the silence.
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How can they not get it, Goldy?
Even if Jikook are just platonic, have a mutual platonic love, they still sink every ship with their behavior toward each other. This is why OT7 content scares the hell out of everyone cause in a OT7 setting, Jikook WILL and ALWAYS do gravitate toward the other over others the are shipped with. If this was not the case, Jk would not be in Jimin's room over others, when given the opportunity. Even if Jk goes to others rooms for a period of time, he is still spending the majority with Jimin. In LA, Jikook told you they were working out together, eating together, walking together, spending time together in Jimin's room and Tae also confirmed that for you. Then some girl spotted Jikook at the gym at like 2 am and posted receipts. Like in Vegas, Jimin, RM and Suga went out and Vhopekook went out to promote. Had dinner, went to a concert. Yet it was Jk telling you he was in Jimin's room right out of quarantine hugging him and Jikook leaving together from the airport in the same car after their vegas trip and Jimin posted that Jikook selfie from their car, laughing at you all. They carve out time with others, but at the end of the day, they are going home together.
Jk choosing to spend white day, silver day, Chuseok and valentines, several times together with JIMIN, over Tae or whatever flavor of the month you have him paired with. Does it get more clear? Even if Jikook are friends, Jk is certainly putting himself wherever Jimin is on those holidays. How can you argue your couple is in a romantic relationship if they don't spend couple days together confirmed? You know you haven't seen TK together on any couple day, ever. How can you, when we see Jk with Jimin? TK were together in korea, when Jimin was out of town and they still weren't together on White Day. Doesn't that say a lot. That Jikook carve out that time to spend those days together CONFIRMED, and only they know why? TK can go bowling on a random day, but skip celebrating holidays together, but spend them with others? Makes no sense. That sounds like friends to me, not a couple. All you have to do is think and it will become clear.
Jikook don't fit the just bros categories- that much they know cos there's always something sus about them that they can't quantify or classify. That much they admit.
And they can't put them in the dating category too cos that too makes them and everyone uncomfortable either due to homophobia, propriety or both.
Well they certainly aren't arguing with me over that cos I am over and above that level of foolishness. They can miss me with that
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Can paper towel be an okay substrate for a snake long-term?
Paper towel is generally best as a short-term substrate, for when a snake is in quarantine or you need to keep a very close eye on their waste for whatever reason.
More natural substrates run circles around paper towel in almost every category, really. It's easier for snakes to perform natural behaviors, but you also have to swap out paper towel at least once a week, whereas if you're diligent about spot-cleaning, you can go months between deep cleans with natural substrates.
I only have a couple snakes that I keep on paper towel long-term for whatever reason, and it's just so inconvenient compared to other substrates. One snake I keep on paper towel (at least until he's at least two years old and has a stronger immune system) is my Mexican black kingsnake Ed, and I keep him on paper towel because he had a very persistent recurring tooth infection as a baby, so he needs to be eating in very sterile conditions and I need to know ASAP if there are any irregularities with his bowel movements. Even though it's necessary for him right now, I can't wait to change it because he's a very messy eater (in typical kingsnake fashion) and I feel like I have to change the towels at least a few times a week.
That's probably why it's so hard for me to get good pictures of him, now that I think about it - like every picture I get of Ed looks like this. Little black snake + paper towels that he likes to hide under = bad pictures.
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Worm Arc 17 thoughts:
Travelers backstory!!!!!!!!! WOOOO!!!!!!
HOLY SHIT THEY ARE FROM EARTH ALEPH! That really explains the mysterious nature of their backstory up to now.
Would have loved to get some PoV's from some people who aren't Trickster but I'll live.
He's just such an asshole! Like I already knew he was but god DAMN did this arc remove any doubt.
Just the worst type of asshole that can be found in MOBA games (I say this as someone who played MOBA games for years). And then given superpowers. Ugh.
THE SIMURGH FUCKING HELL OH MY GOD I LOVE HER!!!!!!!!!
SHE IS MY FAVORITE ENDBRINGER AND ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS EVEN IF SHE IS SUPER DUPER EVIL AND TERRIBLE! BUT SHE JUST SINGS IN EVERYONE'S HEADS AND THEY SEE THINGS THAT SHE WANTS THEM TO SEE AND SHE SEES THE FUTURE AND CREATES A CAUSE AND EFFECT PLAGUE BASICALLY AND I LOVE HER!!
Just the level of planning ahead she does, the number of moves ahead Simmy is playing. After the first few times she shows up they start quarantining where she attacks. Which ends up being exactly the right situation needed to push the Travelers to the choices she wanted them to make. Like, is quarantining even a counter to the Smurph or is it exactly what she wanted?
Sure precogs mess with precogs. That makes sense. But I don't know that it is as clear cut as Coil presented to Trickster. He implies two precogs just cancel each other out, but I assume it's more of a strength thing - a strong precog will cancel out a weak precog, but a weak precog will only make things a little fuzzier for a strong precog. So having Dinah would have helped against the Simurgh but I don't think it would be enough to just cancel out the Simurgh's power. Coil and Tattletale would probably also help. But I'm not convinced the last few months in Brockton Bay hasn't been more or less what Simmy wanted to happen.
Cody is the only person here that is probably more of an asshole than Krouse. Just could not get over the fact that Noelle didn't want to date him. Unbearably entitled dick. Possibly dead now, if Accord got his way. But very possibly not. Won't be surprised if he shows up again.
Cody's power is fun. I think it's the first "time travel" power I've seen. I mean Clockblocker does time freezing which is basically the same category but still, curious to see if we get any more level of time travel than this.
Marissa needs someone to make her some cookies and give her a place to hang out that isn't the house her mom lives in. I mean, I guess the current situation handles that but not how I meant.
I already liked Jess and now I like her even more. She's a cape geek! Wonderful.
Luke is interesting cause he was the only person besides Noelle who was close to Krouse at the start, but he's the first (well, aside from Cody I guess) to leave him. Really went through a character arc. Also Krouse lists Luke's "individual tragedy" as "not getting to fly" which is hysterical.
Oliver is a trans girl. Headcanon 100% established. It just fits so well. She just needs to find herself! And once she does and realizes what she actually wants to look like her power will get her there and won't need to keep adjusting! Right now Oliver's power is doing performative masculinity for them.
Noelle has had a bad time. God damn. She was having a bad time before everything happened and now she's having a very bad time. Damn. I had some guesses about her correct. Figured she was like, monstrous bottom half and normal top half. And figured touching her was bad. But I didn't foresee "touching her creates mutated evil clones". I'm sure that won't be a major problem in the next arc or two. I'm sure there won't be evil mutated clones of a bunch of capes to deal with . . .
I had long figured Travelers had Cauldron powers. It just fit with their power levels and such. I had also figured whatever Noelle's condition was, it was related to having a Cauldron power. I had a lot of guesses. None of them were "only drinks half a vial". For some reason I thought everyone would be too smart to do THAT! (I have no idea why I thought that.)
Current guess is Noelle is sort of in a never ending "trigger" event. Her power is constantly in the "building and gathering" phase and is not reaching the "lock things down" phase that normally happens (Bonesaw talked about this). Definitely a lot of other things it could be, this is just the best fit I've found so far.
This goes for Oliver too, which is why their power keeps changing how they look. Oliver just got lucky and has much less significant troubles compared to Noelle.
Got to see lots of new Case 53's. That was fun.
I expect to see more of Accord in the future. Just cause like, he gets smarter the more complex the problem. And the world is supposedly going to end due to (I think) the actions of higher dimensional entities. That is a very complex problem. And at the same time, he seems like the kind of person that might see "billions die" as a good way to reduce chaos. To simplify the world. Not saying that is what he will do, just that it seems a shame to not bring him up again.
I knew 40 people had died due to actions of the Travelers. I did not know Noelle had eaten them all! Because she tried to starve herself. I can see why it's important to keep her well fed. And why it's going to be an issue that there is no longer someone providing her with thousands of dollars of meat a week. No waste though, she has a very efficient digestive system.
The ending, with Trickster just staring at the bloodstain left behind by Coil's body while Genesis stares out at the ocean ... very good. I mean, really sucks for them, but it was a very evocative arc ending.
I wonder who won the Ransack tournament? One team disconnected because the building they were in disappeared into a space hole. I wonder what the rules are for that?
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Top 10 Cozy BLs!
Our Dating Sim made me realize we have a new sub genre of BLs happening right now: the cozy BL.
I decided to invent/identify/name this new BL category because... I can. I crowd sourced (here in the hellhole) opinions of how to define it and what should go on it. The collective brainstormed and elected the following qualifications:
low angst
low stakes
high domesticity
a central relationship that is more cute than anything else
extra points for found family
AKA BLs that make you feel happy and comfortable.
These BLs leave you feeling warm and safe, like a hot water bottle. I will list them in order of my personal preference when in the mood for “cozy.”
1. Our Dating Sim
(Korea, Viki)
Did I create this list for this show? Yes I did. It defines this category. It is a very low stakes, high domesticity, extremely warm and gentle second chance at love office romance.
This is a fuzzy blanket of a story that perfectly suited KBL’s short-length tendencies. The pacing is... muuuuuah... chef’s kiss.
2. Seven Days
(Japan, grey in 2 parts Seven Days: Monday - Thursday | Seven Days - Friday - Sunday)
Popular first year Seiryo has a policy of going out with any girl who asks… for one week. On a lark, third year Yuzuru tests to see if that policy also applies to boys. Seiryo agrees that it does. Along the way they accidentally fall in love. Possibly my favorite BL of all time. It’s very gentle with us and its characters while still having that Japanese emo edge to it.
A master class in quite yet riveting cinema.
What, you doubted me? OF COURSE it’s on the list
3. My School President
(Thailand, YouTube)
GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this, and that’s partly what makes it so comforting. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny?
4. See You After Quarantine?
(Taiwan, Viki)
Be you never expected lockdown to be comforting? This under appreciated gem is Taiwan’s answer to Gameboys and is just as charming and adorable yet still as quintessentially Taiwanese as one might hope. It features a Japanese love interest and the cutest most confused disaster gay. Slow burn because the two have almost no actual screen time together and yet manage some truly amazing chemistry plus sweetly caring and earnest. Honestly how does Taiwan do it?
5. Ingredients
(Thailand, YouTube)
At the time (during lockdown) many of us referred to this as our “emotional support grocery store advertisement.” If all you want is two soft boys being domestic, cooking together, cuddling on the couch, cat sitting, and babysitting - just put this on and be comfy.
6. What Did You Eat Yesterday?
(Japan, grey)
Basically the grown up version of Ingredients. Emotionally repressed, grumpy, salary man shows his hair dresser husband his love by cooking amazing meals. That’s it, that’s the whole show. There some queer fam drama, and blood-fam coming out drama, but mostly is husbands cooking and eating together and it’s great. Is it BL? Not really. Do we care? Not really.
7. The New Employee
(Korea, Viki)
This one is queer comfort, explicitly. If you aren’t queer you might not find it as warm and engaging. A near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also featuring found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss.
As you do.
But things get romantic pretty darn quickly.
As you gay.
8. En of Love: Tossera & Future the series
(Thailand, YouTube)
Tossera = Younger boy wants to court older boy and does and… that’s it. No really that’s the WHOLE STORY. There is actually no angst, drama, or, indeed plot. But are they the softest bois ever to BL as a main couple? Yes, yes they are.
Future is... exactly the same thing.
Are we mad about it?
Nope.
9. Oxygen
(Thailand, YouTube)
Softest seme in the universe sings his affection to the older boy at the cafe. Let the slow burn courting commence. Oxygen uses every BL trope in the playbook for one of the gentlest lowest angst BLs ever made. It’s a hyung romance (younger boy courts older boy) but very very earnest about it. Am I biased? Sure. This is probably one of my biggest comfort watches.
10. Our Dining Table
(Japan, Gaga)
Lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. It’s a quiet cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me with the best of what Japan can do (like Restart After Come Back Home), it’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, it’s OK with me, but not totally BL.
For me one of the hallmarks of cozy BL is that as a chronic rewatcher I find myself starting to rewatch these ones even as they are still airing. Oxygen was an icon of this (also my first watch-along and the reason I realized I really had a passion for BL)
Shorts
Summerdaze - Singapore & Korea, YouTube
The 8.2 Second Rule - Japan, YouTube
A First Love Story - Korea, YouTube
Some More - Korea, Gaga
Quite a few other Strongberry offerings.
More like this?
Top 10 Most Romantic BLs for Valentine’s Day
Top 20 Softest Couples in BL
Top 10 Cutest BLs
Fluffy Sweet Soft Thai BL
10 BLs Best Enjoyed with Hot Tea & a Roaring Fire
MOAR RECS?
From the blog comments. If I agree I gave it a description.
Boys Lockdown (YouTube) - actually on this list because it go so many votes by everyone else, I haven’t watched it.
My Ride (GaGa) - Thai BL grew up with this pulp - a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine AKA a cinnamon roll couple. Mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review.
Takara-kun to Amagi-kun (Viki & Gaga) - yes, high school angst but so sweet about it. Review here.
2 Moons 3 Ambassador (grey) - I love this odd little pulp, it’s oddly satisfying for all it’s awkward cheese-fest. Maybe that is why I like it. Review here.
21 Days Theory (YouTube)
About Youth (Gaga) - A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. Full review here.
Ai no Kotodama (Gaga)
Be Loved In House: I Do (Viki)
Cherry Blossoms After Winter (Viki warning dub con) - it’s here because a lot of people (like me) love it, but there are objections. Review here.
Cherry Magic (Japan, indie subbed) AKA Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni narerurashii - the sweetest, fluffiest, most charming bit of adorable ever, full of found family and pastry and serious slapstick, the characters are utter spazzes, but so cute about it. Still that aspect makes me a little tense so I don’t find it as cozy as others do.
Craving You (Viki)
Destiny Seeker (grey) - see 2 Moons Ambassador
DNA Says Love You (Gaga) - particularly the last few episodes.
La Cuisine (GaGa) - sweet and kind of pure show, and like Thai desserts perhaps requires too much patience for a layperson. Because of the pacing and the focus on the bad girl character, I did dock it. But if you like stuff in the Oxygen vein, then this show is for you, and far better than most Thai BL pulps. That said, I suspect that I enjoyed it more than many would. Full review.
Meet Me Outside (Gaga)
Meow Ears Up (Gaga)
Mr. Heart (Viki)
Mr. Unlucky has no Choice but to Kiss (Viki)
Nitiman (Thailand YouTube) - This Thai BL pulp had sympathetic characters, a solid tsundere uke redemption arc, and a fantastic pining seme who yearned without bullying, grooming, or gaslighting. Plus when they were together, they were ridiculously soft. But it also had a realistic portrayal of university life, bisexual awakening, and friendship groups. Ending is okay but a victim of lockdown.
Old Fashion Cupcake (Viki)
Ocean Likes Me (Viki)
Roommates of 304 (Viki)
Wish You (Korea - Netflix or Viki, you want the movie version) AKA Wish You: Your Melody in My Heart - low stakes high pining romance about a pianist who falls in love with a busker who is on his way to being the next big idol.
There was quite a lively discussion coming up with this list, since everyone defines cozy differently but I am not alone in my top 10 choices, these mostly got the most votes.
(source)
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I just found my list of when I categorized every xf episode (mostly through s7) during quarantine lmao
MONSTER OF THE WEEK CATEGORIES
Cultural
Shapes
Fresh Bones
The Calusari
Teso Dos Bichos
Hell Money
Teliko
El Munda Gira
Theef
Prison or Military
Deep Throat
Space
Sleepless
The List
The Walk
Unrequited
Trevor
Religious
Miracle Man
Revelations
Grotesque
Kaddish
All Souls
Signs and Wonders
Millennium
Cult or Satanists
Gender Bender
Red Museum
Our Town
3
Syzygy
Die Hand Die Verletzt
Sanguinarium
Terms of Endearment
Nothing Lasts Forever
Lone Gunmen- or CSM-Centric
Musings of a CSM
Unusual Suspects
Three of a Kind
First Person Shooter
This
Skinner-Centric
Avatar
Zero Sum
SR 819
Brand X
Hollywood AD
Kitten
Arthur Dales’s Tales
Travelers
The Unnatural
Agua Mala
Scully Side Quest
Irresistible / Orison
Chinga
Never Again
Milagro
En Ami
all things
Home Again
Ghouli
Mulder, They Already Destroyed the Evidence!
Ice
Firewalker
Dod Kalm
F. Emasculata
Wetwired
The Pine Bluff Variant
Drive
Wait, It’s Actually Aliens?
Pilot
Jose Chung
Control the Elements
Fire
DPO
Soft Light
Schizogeny
Rush
The Rain King
Medical Anomalies
Young at Heart
Eve
Home
Small Potatoes
Postmodern Prometheus
Founder’s Mutation
Guys Who Need to Eat Weird Stuff
Squeeze / Tooms
2Shy
Pusher / Kitsunegari
Leonard Betts
Hungry
Switch Lives or Linked Brains
Lazarus
Roland
Oubliette
Paper Hearts
Mind’s Eye
Dreamland I and II
Fight Club
Plus One
Time Travel or Warp
Synchrony
Monday
Lost Art of the Forehead Sweat
Ghosts or Past Lives
Shadows
Born Again
Excelsis Dei
Elegy
Aubrey
The Field Where I Died
Triangle
How the Ghosts Stole Christmas
AI Is Out To Get Us
Blood
Ghost in the Machine
Kill Switch
Rm9sbG93ZXJs
Half Man, Half Monster
The Host
Jersey Devil
Humbug
Detour
Bad Blood
Folie a Duex
Chimera
Mulder and Scully Meet the Weremonster
All Monster, No Man
Darkness Falls
Fearful Symmetry
Quagmire
War of the Coprophages
Alpha
Arcadia
Field Trip
X-Cops
Magic, Psychic, or Lucky
Beyond the Sea
Clyde Bruckman
Unruhe
Tithonus
The Amazing Maleeni
Je Souaite
The Goldberg Variation
MYTHOLOGY CATEGORIES
They’re Closing The X-Files!
The Erlenmeyer Flask / Little Green Men
The End / The Beginning
Fight the Future
Uh…Samantha?
Colony / End Game
Talitha Cumi / Herrenvolk
Sein Und Zeit / Closure
I’m Literally On Board Already, Scully
Fallen Angel
EBE
Nisei / 731
Piper Maru / Apocrypha
Tempus Fugit / Max
Tunguska / Terma
Agent Mulder Is Dead! Or Is He?
Anasazi / The Blessing Way / Paper Clip
Redux I and II
This Is Not Happening / Dead Alive
Mulder…You Good?
Demons / Gethsemane
Biogenesis / The Sixth Extinction
The Syndicate Hates Scully
Duane Barry / Ascension / One Breath
Memento Mori
Christmas Carol / Emily
Patient X / The Red and the Black
Why Was This Made
I Want to Believe
Discarded Categories
Creepy White Guy Predator
This Is a Small Town, We Don’t Lock Our Doors
A Nice Trip to the Forest
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I want you to love me
IN WHICH, Y/N performs at coachella with Harry and no one knows they’re in a relationship. I AM SO EXCITED FOR YOU GUYS TO MEET FAMOUS Y/N!!! she is everything to me <3 please reblog and leave feedback, it means so much to me!!! enjoy! :-)
✧ ✧ ✧
Y/N and Harry met at the 2021 Grammys. Harry had won his award and was over the moon, absolutely ecstatic. Y/N was at the table beside him, her manager and best friend squeezing her hand because she knew the next category was coming up — which Y/N was nominated for. Y/N had “blown up” over the quarantine. She uploaded a video to tiktok as a joke and here she was a year later, at the Grammys. Once she was signed on to a record and had a team, they immediately had her releasing songs and at the end of 2020, she released an album called ‘I want you to love me’, it was a mixture of indie rock and indie folk and people really resonated with her work.
Harry had watched videos of Y/N and actually bought the album on apple music so he could listen to it whenever he wanted to. Considering this was her first album, she was doing pretty well. And god, is she beautiful. Harry had harboured a sort of crush on the new artist, which Jeff constantly teases him about. But it’s not just how beautiful she is that has him blushing at the thought of her, but how insanely talented and haunting Y/N L/N is.
“Whatever happens, I’m so proud of you,” Veronica, Y/N’s assistant said. Y/N nodded, smiling underneath her mask. She was just so grateful that she even got to be here, that was thought of for this award.
Harry watched Y/N like a hawk as they went through the nominees. He secretly crossed his fingers and hoped, Y/N got what she deserved.
“And the winner of the new artist grammy is…….” Billie Eilish paused opening the letter, she smiled when she saw the name written.
“Y/N L/N!”
Y/N’s ears filled with claps and hoots, a whistle from Harry Styles. Veronica giggled and held onto her tightly. She was in complete shock and didn’t know what to do or where to look. Y/N’s eyes filled with water as she laughed walking up the stage to take the Grammy off of Billie Eilish. She squeezed Billie’s hand and then took of her mask, looking down at her award.
“Wow,” She said, breathing out a sigh and tear rolling down her cheek. “Thank you so much. To everyone that believed in me, took a chance on a little nobody from new york, I love and thank you. I can’t—“ She paused biting her lip, “I can’t believe I’m actually holding this! Again, thank you. Look at me, mama! I made it,” She cheered, walking off the stage.
Her ears were still ringing when sat back down and fully sobbed into Veronica’s shoulder.
“Hey! Congrats!” A voice said from beside Y/N. Harry was leaning over, a bit tipsy. His cheeks were flushed and his curls were all over the place — Y/N blushed at the thoughts of running her hands through them.
“Thank you so much,” She said, blushing furiously. Harry pulled a chair beside her and watched her intently.
“I listened to your album on repeat. So fucking good,” Harry said, Y/N felt like her face was on fire — thank God for masks.
“Stop! Fine Line is one of the best albums I’ve ever heard,” Y/N said, turning her body towards him. He raised an eyebrow, “One of?” He asked and Y/N inched towards him.
“I mean, Fleetwood Mac, Rumours has got to be one of the best,” Y/N said and Harry nodded agreeing.
Since then, they exchanged numbers and texted everyday. They met up secretly at the studio and were practically inseparable.
“You know some friends and I are quarantining together,” Harry said, placing a hand on Y/N’s leg. Y/N hummed, writing down some lyrics that were jumbled in her mind.
“They’re producers and great musicians…. Maybe you’d like to stay with us for a bit?” Harry asked and Y/N blushed and hid her face away from Harry.
“Hey, show me your face, bunny,” Harry pouted, taking the notebook away from her.
“I’d like to stay with you, Harry,” Y/N whispered, Harry moved on top of her his gaze on her lips.
“Really?”
She hummed, “Yes. I’d like that very much,”
Harry crashed his lips into hers, causing Y/N to involuntarily moan. Harry smirked against her lips, placing a hand on her hip, while Y/N’s hands went straight to Harry’s curls. She remembered at the Grammys wanting to run her hands through them and pull at the ends of it. She was finally getting to do that. Harry pulled away from Y/N’s lips and travelled down her neck, leaving a burning trail of kisses behind. Harry’s hands had a mind of their own, squeezing anything and everything. In a quick movement, Y/N moved Harry under her so she was sitting on his lap. Harry looked up at her and breathed her in.
“Are we doing this?” He asked, squeezing her ass cheeks. Y/N moved against him, nodding.
“Oh yeah, we’re doing this,”
Y/N bent down and kissed Harry with all her might, Harry pulled at her shirt, tearing it off her body making Y/N gasp. Her bare breasts were on show and Harry just wanted to suck on them, so he did. He started licking at her nipples, Y/N moaned at the feeling of his warm mouth on her tits.
“These are my tits, right? My pussy too,” Harry asked, Y/N nodded quickly.
“All yours, Harry. All fucking yours,”
Harry tugged off his own shirt and pants, leaving him bare. Quickly, Y/N pushed down her skirt and panties leaving them both naked. Y/N eyes wandered down his body to see his cock, huge and red just waiting for her.
“Fuck,” She moaned, as Harry pulled her back against him.
Harry pushed her down on the couch, leaving a trail of saliva on her stomach as his tongue traveled down to her drenched pussy. He spread her legs, kissing the inside of her thighs and smelling her arousal.
“What do you want?” Harry asked, his breath hitting off of her sex.
“Need your cock,” She moaned, Harry nodded.
“I’ll give you whatever you want, baby,”
✧ ✧ ✧
Months had past and Y/N and Harry fell more in love with each other. They quarantined together for awhile, then went back to their own homes as they wrote new songs and facetimed constantly. They were able to enjoy their relationship without feeling the pressure of fans and paparazzi. They still don’t know how their relationship hasn’t been leaked — because they haven’t been super careful.
Last week Harry accidentally kissed Y/N goodbye in public, but luckily no one caught them and Y/N had a good laugh at Harry’s panic. Not that he was embarrassed, but he just didn’t want Y/N to be overwhelmed, especially now that they both have albums being released soon.
Harry’s Home was something so special to Harry. Not only because it was his third album, but because the songs were about or written by his love and light, Y/N. It was a pretty special thing to write songs with your partner and see the way they work. And the way Y/N worked was magical. Y/N is releasing her second album and she’s so proud of the work she’s done with this. Harry helped her immensely with writing and introducing her to great musicians in the industry. Harry Styles knew his shit.
Y/N named her album, Punisher and her the song she’ll sing with Harry is moon song — they wrote that one together after going through the same thing in relationships.
“I want you there with me,” Harry said referring the coachella, as they lay in bed together. Harry practically lived in her LA home, but Y/N wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Of course I’ll come with you! Gotta support my man,” She teased pecking his lips.
“No, I want you there. On stage with me,” Harry said and Y/N froze.
“Harry…”
“Please. I need you,”
So Y/N nodded and kissed his lips, “I love you,”
“Not as much as I love you,”
She smirked, “Debatable,”
Weeks went by and there they were, backstage preparing to sing Moon Song together for the first time. They had written and produced this song together but never sang it live before. It’s such a personal song, so Y/N hopes she make it through at least the first verse.
“You look incredibly sexy,” Y/N said, placing a hand on Harry’s chest. Harry wiggled his eyebrows.
“Well, look at these,” He said taking a handful of her breasts. Y/N swatted him away.
“You’re on guys,” The stage manager said.
“I love you,” Harry said and Y/N smiled.
“I love you more, rockstar,”
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