#electric heater for cooking

[egg-emperor]

no power at home now so just popping in to post a draft rq while I'm out. see y'all later

[plantanarchy]

Yeah I hurt my back pretty bad yesterday, have been doing the same grueling repetitive tasks all week, and have been doing all the day to day making sure poinsettias don't die alone but. It's pretty

[1800titz]

HI FRIENDS. WOOOOOOOOOOO. Camprry. Aimed for 5K or less and managed to get wordy again. Reader insert and basically pure smut. This one was supposed to be vanilla with some praise kink (and exhibitionism if you SQUINT since it’s in a tent) but….. hahahahaha….. WEEEELLLLLLL.

CONTENT WARNINGS: oral sex, face fucking, exhibitionism-ish if you squint, choking-ish if you squint, light dom/sub, praise kink, daddy kink, intercourse

WC: 7.5K (whoops)

There is nothing remotely sexy about a camping trip. 

In fact, Y/N thinks that if she were to deduce a list of words upon first thought when it came to camping, sexy would be the furthest one from qualifying. 

There’s nothing sexy about reverting to caveman-ism, sleeping on the ground, sheathed by some paper-thin layer of nylon and polyester and plastic support beams. There’s nothing sexy about pit stains from the lack of air conditioning or its antithetical twin sister, the bumps that rise over chilly skin and trembling bones without the luxury of an electric heater. There’s nothing innately erotic about kindling fire like electricity doesn’t exist, and cooking hot dogs on skewers over the flame, and perpetually swatting at insects that incessantly stick to shins and calves like the flesh there is coated in sugar. 

There is something sexy, though, when it comes to the way Harry’s arms work as he pitches a tent, bi’s and tri’s intermingling in an alluring duet, pumping and settling with each motion. The sleeves of his tee ride up when he raises the limbs, and sunlight catches shadow in ridge and sinew of muscle. There’s something sexy in the way his back ripples, in the way that thin fabric does nothing to cover what she imagines — no, what she’s well aware lies underneath. The same traps and lats she’s scraped her nails over and dug into. The same shoulders she’s sunk her teeth into to bridle cries of bliss. 

There’s something hot about the cinch in his brow when he works, something alluring in the curl at the plush of his mouth when he turns his head and beams lopsidedly at something that their friend has said, too low for Y/N to catch. There’s something sexy in the way that his eyes skim her frame when she’s sitting in a fold-out chair with sunglasses. When his eyes glide over his shoulder. It’s in the most subtle way. There’s something sexy in the way he tears that gaze away. 

There’s something sexy in the way that no one around them knows she spends nights bouncing on his cock. 

This lustrous affair — this sneaky fling. This filthy, dirty secret that only the two of them share, slinking and sidling through the shadows. 

Really, it’s nothing more than a raunchy circumstance of friends-with-benefits, only kept on the down-low to evade prying questions from friends and the sickly confrontation of …feelings. Because it’d be easy to admit they’re fucking, that they’ve been hooking up for months after an impromptu, late night of drinking. But then it’s sort of cementing, right? At least, in a way. 

There’s a status that floats about when you confess you’re sleeping with somebody — when you admit that you’ve entangled them into your routine beyond one mishap of sex. In the eyes of your friends, admitting that you’ve upkept a sex buddy through the roll of the seasons is, like. Well, it’s basically admitting some form of something sentimental. 

They’re just fucking. They’re just friends that fuck. And the way that nobody around them has any sort of suspicion that he’ll most likely be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night for that... 

That’s sexy, the young woman thinks. 

They’re coiled around the campfire once the sun has ducked out and simmered off behind the trees, and Y/N thinks about it. She watches the shape of his features glow beyond the crackle of the flame, and she thinks about the way his nose bumps over her clit when he licks into her. She watches his mouth move when he talks, a muted strawberry that’s dimmed in the night, and she thinks about the cushion of it pressing open-mouthed kisses to her flesh. She’s in his sweatshirt, because she had to borrow one, and it smells like him. She’s coated in it — his scent. Warm, pleasant musk and remnants of tantalizing cologne. It reminds her of the way the same sweatshirt had been discarded and draped over the foot of her bed haphazardly one night, as he kneed his way onto the mattress and clambered over her, fingertips exploring and tongue trailing. It reminds her of the way he smells when he brushes past her in the company of others, just solid weight and warmth. He does it nonchalantly, but the green of his eyes is knowing and flirtatious. That’s when the same scent teases her senses. It reminds her of the way he smells when he’s up close and personal, when he’s rocking against her and groaning softly into the nook between her shoulder and her neck. 

She stares at his hands — the way they lay over the armrests of his fold-out, the way lengthy digits adorned with chunky rings cradle a can of beer. She imagines the same fingers wrapped over her throat, squeezing lightly, in that way that he does. 

Y/N isn’t panting into the chill of the air. The white of her exhales just surface …quicker. His hands, and his smell, and his mouth are entirely irrelevant to the matter. 

By the time they all retire to their respective tents, the young woman is pleased to get a breather from his hands and his …ludicrously plush, smiley mouth. At least in a public circumstance, so she can’t be caught fawning over his mannerisms from a distance. The smell …she can’t escape that. In all honesty, it should be shameful, basking in the scent of a sweatshirt. Instead, she coils up in it under the covers.

She’s turned on her side with gritty rock coursing through wire, chords of guitar and drums rippling out from the little speakers in her ears, entirely engrossed as she scrolls through what little apps can manage access without a durable station of wifi. 

Y/N nearly squeals when an arm slinks over her chest, when a palm nudges over her mouth. And then another hand is plucking at one of the earbuds, giving her leeway into the crinkle of the sleeping bag, crickets, and the sound of bated breaths behind her. 

A low baritone, hushed and teasing against the same ear where the earbud’s been removed, “Easy, baby.” 

The gentle murmur that his lips shape does, frankly, little to soothe the hammer of her heart. In fact, if anything, the muscle soars in pace behind bone with the way cushiony pink grazes her jaw, the way his warm weight presses up behind her. 

“Easy.” 

She’d sit up and turn over her shoulder if she had the opportunity, but the same inky, muscly arm she’d admired hours earlier cradles over, preventing the motion. Harry can tell too, evidently, based on his soft snicker. He’s pleased from the way her head juts to steal a peer back. He’s pleased when she doesn’t succeed.

Instead of letting up, he takes the same earbud he’d pulled out and presses it into his own ear so that they’re sharing the set, crooning, “What are you listening to? Hm?” 

He sponges another kiss to the side of her throat, a stray tendril flopping over his forehead. Y/N knows that he’s listening to it, too, then. She knows from the playful, little nudge of his head with the rhythm, from the way the cord of the earbuds grows taut, from the sound of mirth he muzzles to her skin when he drives his mouth over the side of her neck. The young woman wriggles her arm, just enough for his grip to loosen, and then uses the opportunity to raise her head to take her own earbud out. The motion jostles Harry from the nook he’s seemingly made homage in, and he nips at her earlobe in protest. Anyways, the whole thing sends a chill wracking down her shoulders. 

When he lets up, Y/N twists in his grasp to her back. The earbuds splay over her chest, his own discarded, too. There’s still music seeping softly. She blinks, gaze tracing over his features, basked in shadow and soft amusement. 

“Hey,” she croaks, her voice catching on a crack with the effort to keep quiet. 

And Harry drags a thumb down her stomach, fingers meddling where the fabric of her (no, his) hoodie has rucked up. The ticklish sensation makes her shift a little. His mouth quirks, and he smooths over the same spot again. 

“Hey, you.” 

Her lips part and her tummy jolts when he slips the chilly pad of his thumb back over the line he’d run for a third time. She wants to bring her own hand up and trace the contours of his cocky mouth with her fingertips. It shapes the words, like baritone bathed in honey, “Ticklish?” 

When he brushes over a fourth time, her arm twitches, and her hand shoots for his wrist, squeezing lightly. Corners of muted pink spring up, dimples scoring softly. 

“Yes,” she gripes in a whisper, but the gripe doesn’t come out very gripey at all. Instead, it’s sort of small — that’s on account of his warm weight shifting onto her. Which is a new development, and it’s one that stirs something familiar and warm below the sleeping bag she’s nestled into, half-zipped and mostly just thrown over. 

His sturdy thigh slips in the empty gap between her own, and Harry ducks his head, the dimples deepening and the glint of white teeth escaping through the part of his lips. And then he dips lower until his face is nearly tucked into her hair. 

“I missed you,” his admission is soft-spoken. It’d be sort of tender if it didn’t come out so …hungry. 

Y/N takes in a little, shuddery breath. The same hand that's settled over her hipbone comes up to brush hair away from her throat, and a mouth stipples kisses over her pulse. His voice is a raspy, desirous tease, “Did you miss me?” 

Christ. She thinks that maybe if he were telepathic and had even a brief glimpse into the filthy things that’d cycled behind her skull for the duration of the day, then he’d only be more smug. 

That’s dangerous. 

She’s glad he isn’t. 

The young woman hums — an apathetic sound that feigns contemplation, like his touch doesn’t light every nerve ending in her system on fire, like she hasn’t spent hours staring at his arms, his mouth, his hands. Like she hasn’t been picturing expanses of muscle and skin hidden under his tee, imagining her tongue tracing through the vales of his v-line and her fingertips following the trail of hair below his belly button, slipping lower and lower…

“No?” Harry murmurs, lips bumping wetly over her flesh. What follows is a gentle exhale, and then his mouth is sponging another open-mouthed kiss, and his tongue brushes warmth against her, like he’s petting with it over her pulse. He caresses all the way back to her ear. Something dirty and thrilling slinks down the knobs of her spine when he mumbles, unconvinced, “I think you’re lying to me, little miss.” 

Her breath stutters. 

“I think,” Harry muses, fingers dipping beneath the shroud of the sleeping bag and smoothing back over her waist testingly, “that if I had a look right now, you’d be a drippy mess.”

Her throat bobs on a swallow. Petulantly, and so obviously feigning, Y/N tips her chin back and tells him, “…Not at all.”

Instead of smoothing tips of digits back over the naked, little expanse of skin again, they venture lower, teasing at the waistband of her sleep shorts. “I think your sweet, little pussy would tell me otherwise, wouldn’t it, pet?” 

Another deep breath rolls her chest under the cushioned sheet of fabric when fingertips dwell in. Just centimeters, practically. They retreat. Harry presses another kiss just below her ear. 

“Hm? It’s been so empty all day long. Achy, I bet.” Chills rise awake all over when he murmurs, purely condescending pity painting every syllable, “Poor baby.” 

He’s always had it — this gift of filthy, dirty gab. This ability to render her craving and wanting with his words like it’s innate, practically. She shouldn’t be surprised when he shifts over her, just enough for her to feel how hard he is, tips of his curls tickling at her cheek, “Could stuff it full. Make it all better.” 

Y/N sighs. Finally. Like it’s a release of the whole act, and the seams of it come apart to bliss when he nips with his teeth. She cranes her neck to give him more room to work. 

“Would you like that?” 

And she would, she thinks. Very, very much, and his lingering fingers — when they pull out and he hooks a thumb in and just tugs down a smidge — remind her of how hot she suddenly is. How hot everything is, despite the chill in the air. Instead of answering, the young woman nudges with her chin — a nod. An unsatisfactory one, evidently. 

“Words,” Harry mutters. It’s gentle, and quiet, and she hopes the polar opposite of the way he’s going to fuck her.

She cranes her neck more and splays her thighs what little she can under his weight. It’s kind of a plea. It’s also sort of pathetic. “Yes.” 

But it makes his mouth crook. His palm draws away. No. That wasn’t the intended effect. She curbs her sound of protest, but he can tell that it’s bridled in the chamber — she knows because the curl of mirth grows wider. He sits up a bit, bracing on his arms until he hovers over her, and then he sighs, jade sliding to the sector of the bag that’s zipped. Slowly, like he’s teasing, he grips over the notch and tugs. 

“What d’you do if you want me to stop?” Harry beckons, nearly a whisper but not quite, fingers skimming up under his hoodie. The same hoodie clings to her flesh, and every nerve sparks alive at the touch, striking her lungs to expand heavier. The air catches when the pads of his fingers graze up the vale of her sides and siphon a flinch. 

“Teacup,” Y/N breathes the safeword in response, and the fingertips climb her ribs like a staircase, pleased. 

“Good girl,” He tells her, and the pads sink back over, bumping over the ridges, and he tugs the fabric up over her chest. 

Her bra is red. It’s a nice detail, all lacy cupped over her chest. He draws the tip of an index over the edge and says, “Cheeky,” like his comment isn’t, “…Did you wear this to get fucked?” 

The young woman gnaws at her lip. Innately, it’s not an accurate statement. She didn’t wear it to get fucked — not when she knew he’d be slipping into her tent in the midst of the night and fucking into her regardless of the state of her underthings. But it’s a nice touch when he ducks, palm squeezing over one of her tits, and tacks on all low against her ear, like it’s praise, “Because you know I love you in red, pet.” 

The satisfaction of pleasing him buds in her chest, right at the core of her ribcage, warmth pitted deep, and it slinks out like beams of gooey sunshine, winding and seeping through the cavity until her veins practically thrum yellow. She’s buzzing beneath him, pulse thumping and fibers of muscle twitching. It makes his mouth curve — the way he feels her trembling under him like she’s a taut string, and he traces a thumb over her mouth. 

Then jade flits to her chest, and Harry takes the thumb away to hook fingers under the cups and tug. They settle under her tits, perking them, and the way the wire settles over her ribcage isn’t particularly comfortable, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when he shimmies down her body and draws a stripe down with his tongue, all the way from the hollow of her throat to the edge of the bra, settling in between. He kisses down her stomach, green salacious and twinkling up through shadow at her, and his tongue draws a circle around her belly button. His mouth quirks there, too, because it makes her flinch. Because he knew it would. Harry brushes with wet taste buds lower, settles on a side, low on her tummy, and sucks a pressing kiss. Her whole spine wrings and writhes, arching when he pairs the sensation with a dull graze of his hand over a nipple. It’s barely anything, but it’s a touch she longs for. And she doesn’t know why, but it always lights her on fire when the pleasure entwines with something that makes her want to squirm out of her own skin.  

Because when he turns the graze into a pinch and a roll, when he hones on the drag of his tongue and the suckling of his mouth, when he skirts featherlight fingertips up her side like he’s plucking invisible strings, the yellow thrums red, and hot, and hungry. When his mouth lets up and he drags wet lips to curl over the opposite nipple and the featherlight turns more purposeful, squeezing at sensitive flesh, this knocked-out unph escapes her, like a bridled grunt he’s punched from her. Like a half-laugh, like a moan, like a mottled gasp, like discomfort and please-don’t-stop enmeshed, curbed out of desperation. It makes the red fucking neon. 

Harry withdraws with a pop from the bud, and the air bites onto the wet to replace his mouth. The ambiance of rickets and cold reminds her that they’re kind of, sort of, definitely in public, only really shielded from said public (and the intrusive presence of their friend group) by thin sheets of nylon erected with plastic poles. Her eyes say it all then — this hesitation sparking, lashes bouncing and bounding from the nervous shift of her pupils, working from his eyes to his plush mouth and back as he rises to settle over her more. 

“They’re asleep,” he promises, a hushed murmur he seals to her own mouth in a sloppy half-kiss. His top lip ghosts over her cupid's bow, and he smooths a hand back over the vale of her waist where he’d squeezed a second ago. Her chest rolls under him, and her mouth parts, just a little to let a mottled little sound escape, like a wheezing gasp she’s muffled. 

And he muffles it more with his own lips, pressing against her. The sleeping bag rustles, and it’s quiet beyond the stilted sheets barring the wilderness. Harry’s hand skims down. 

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Harry murmurs into her mouth, palm trailing until it stills at the waistband of her shorts, fingertip lingering over an expanse of skin below her belly button that he’s well aware will have her squirming. Y/N jerks. “Here? Or… maybe…”

The young woman practically does a squished, weighted version of a body roll beneath him when he moves his hand to her inner thigh, dragging the pad of his index over the sensitive skin higher up. “Maybe …here? …No, I don’t think so…” 

His tongue licks into her mouth when she opens wider for him, desperate for the taste of him on her tongue, and she nearly gasps over that same tongue — loudly — when his palm cups unceremoniously between her legs. “…I think you want me here. That’s about right, isn’t it?” 

Y/N makes a little noise — it’s something between desperation and wordless agreement, and it quirks the corners of Harry’s mouth, carving dimples in beside his smug beam. The hand withdraws so suddenly she wants to melt into the hungry soil. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweet thing,” he declares, voice hushed, a bass-deep admission soft-spoken and colored with teasing.

Instead, he presses up until he’s hovering over her and then knees his way back, and then his fingers tuck up under the waistband of her shorts. When he discards them into the beginnings of a pile of clothing beside them, coaxing her hips to rise up enough with a soft word, blood teems into her cheekbones, like it’s all new and foreign. 

It’s not. 

It’s the most comforting and familiar when he traces a fingertip over the cleft at the crotch of her panties, the most familiar when he shimmies his fingertips under the sides of the fabric at her hips and tugs those off, too. It’s familiar when he holds a leg up, fingers gentle at her calf, and sponges kisses up her leg from her ankle to her inner thigh. It’s familiar when his tongue dances over hot, slick, flesh in craving, when it rolls around her clit and circles back. When he’s amused by the proof that he was right, that she is soaked, and his ego inflates like a hot air balloon. It’s familiar in the draw of his tongue, in the brush of his lips, in the way his fingers brush over her thighs, over her hole, over the sensitive areas in between. It’s familiar in the way that she watches stars speckle in the darkness behind her clenched eyelids, in the way that Harry doesn’t let up even as she pants and wrings her own fingers into his curls. In the way that he only responds with a moan against her at the rough treatment of his scalp.  

It’s somewhere between heaven and hell, teetering on the wire, when he laps over her pulsing cunt. His irises flicker up when she shudders, when Y/N makes a futile attempt to clasp her thighs over his head and prevent the light drag of his tongue over her oversensitive button. Instead, he tucks a palm against one of her legs and holds it down, plush lips curling around an ‘o’ and sucking. Every muscle seizes, her fingers twitching and struggling to curl into the thinly stuffed fabric of the sleeping bag. She bridles a whole-body thrash, neck straining as her breath stutters. 

“Please— plea— it’s too much—“ Y/N swallows midway her begging to avoid choking on her own spit, and that’s cute, Harry thinks. 

Aw, Y/N thinks he’d coo up at her from between her thighs, if his mouth wasn’t occupied at her core, those are pretty words. They don’t sound like a safeword, though. 

He doesn’t say that, though. He doesn’t say anything, humming quietly over her clit (honestly, she can’t tell if it’s in protest or agreement) and rolling a slow circle over nerves that are spent and nearly raw post his caress. 

Her chest is still rolling when he clambers his way up onto her, kneeing around her sides and then coaxing her arms up into a stretch. Harry cages those with firm thighs at the roots of the limbs, kneeing his way higher until he’s hovering over her chest and admiring her, all pliant and worn out and obedient beneath him. He sniffs, head cocked and eyes glimmering, and then sighs when he tucks fingers into the waistband of his shorts. Her fingers twitch, outstretched above her. And he’s weightless, and steady, and careful over her, but despite that, filth from his tongue punches her breath out like he’s sat directly over her lungs.

“Gonna suck my cock, baby.” 

It’s not really a question — not in tone. It’s a coo, a declaration, insight before Harry digs his fingers further past elastic and discards two layers of fabric with one tug, and his cock bobs free, glistening with a bead of precum at the head. 

Y/N swipes out over her lips with her tongue, and the sheen of spit over pink nearly matches the glimmer on the pink of his tip. The man cradles his free hand over his base and tucks the waistband lower on his hips, just until it rests under his balls and a glimpse of inked laurels and milky expanses of a bare tan line are on show. Bracing himself with a hand planted on the ground, Harry leans over her and aims his shaft, daubing over the plush of her mouth. When her tongue peeks out to swipe over the silky skin, she thinks he’s going to chastise her for her lack of patience. He doesn’t. Instead, he ogles down at the motion like she’s a goddess, cracks in otherwise apathy morphing; a light crease between his brows, a twitch in his lips. The same lips part for a shuddery breath like he’s trying to reign in his composure. And with every drag of his head over her slippery, hungry taste buds, a slow, side-to-side swipe that seems to lose precision with each motion, those cracks in his control give more. His jaw sets and he takes a long breath in through flared nostrils, and then shifts the palm that’d settled on the ground to rest over her wrists. 

��M’gonna fuck your mouth,” Harry tells her, pupils scoping carefully from her lips to her own eyes in finality. “What do you do if you want me to stop?” 

Y/N blinks. Her fingers twitch. She bends the digits over his grip and squeezes, flexing and unflexing over his own fingers like code in a tempo of frenzy. His gaze doesn’t even flicker from the aim of his tip, and he draws it over her mouth like he’s in awe of the sight.

“Good girl.” 

The young woman takes in a breath, mouth parting over his head slightly, all doe-eyed. He smushes his cockhead to the open seam.

“Open up for me,” the soft croon is accompanied by the tilt of his head, and a stray curl dangles over his forehead when he swipes the tip over her lips, “Nice and wide. Show me that pretty tongue.” 

And it slinks from her mouth as if on mindless command. Harry smears his tip over it like a filthy greeting, and then he feeds his fat cock in, guiding it up until the point to where he’s able to shift his weight onto the hand that doesn’t coat her wrists, careful not to cause the confined joints any discomfort.

“That’s it,” his praise seeps out all breathy, barely over an awed whisper as he sinks in and her tongue flexes to encompass the drag towards her gag reflex, “That’s a good girl.” 

The pointed little end grazes over his balls. 

“Eyes up here, pretty thing,” Harry encourages, ducking his own chin. There’s something pretty in the dance of her lash line, in the way her pupils flit up to his shadowy face, the way her lips tuck over her teeth to cushion his shaft. The way her tongue stays stuck out, flexing under the welcomed intrusion, “…Wanna watch them get all teary.” 

It’s like she tries to appease him. It’s as if on instinct to his words, that her lashes flutter as she tries to peer up, the beginnings of a ready sheen glazing the pretty color there as her tongue twitches and her throat bobs in an attempted swallow.  

And Christ, does it feel good when she does that. 

Harry’s own neck cranes, the muscles there flexing and veins swelling there like little ropes pulled taut under his skin. He groans, and it makes her do it again. His brows are furrowed when he risks a glance down at the picture-perfect view, and his hips nudge forward a smidge, only for him to bask in the sight of her irises lolling back and her lashes batting. A hiss lips through gritted teeth like rain through a gutter, and his head cocks further as he smooths an index to rest over her palm. She doesn’t have her digits balled — not all the way — not until his forefinger rests in her reach. She squeezes over that, almost like it’s an anchor. Something grounding to tether her. 

“Shit,” he manages out, barely over a whisper to bite back a throaty groan, hips rolling and brows furrowed in pleasure, “Shit — you’re good. You’re so good—“

And it makes the twitch of her lashes melt into a flitting bat, the color there rolling back and hiding behind the flutter. She can’t exactly hum in acknowledgment, but Y/N makes this garbled sound around him — this desperate kind she’d only make with his shaft stuffed down her throat, and it’s loud. Too loud. He squeezes over her wrists with his thumb, hips slowing until he’s wedged in to the hilt, stilled with the tip of her nose pressed to the light dusting of his pubic hair.

And Y/N thinks she’s going to implode. She’s going to implode if she doesn’t suffocate over his cock first. 

“Shh, shh,” Harry wriggles the index she’s gripping until her touch loosens enough, and he’s able to stroke the tip over her palm, “Shh.” 

Her pupils flit up to him in this deliciously delirious way for air. Harry tips his head down, the shadow of another curl flopping over his forehead. His cock twitches. Y/N makes another sound over him, this one lower. More pleading. More distressed. Her lashes flutter, cheeks puffing. Just when she’s about to clench and unclench over his fingers, he pulls out. It’s nearly all the way, but not quite, and she wheezes oxygen into her deprived lungs, muffling a fit of coughing. When she turns her head to take in more air, his tip slips out and draws a wet streak of saliva from the corner of her mouth across her cheek. 

“So pretty,” Harry murmurs. His tone sounds distant, and absentminded, and awed, like her mouth is divine and his voice is sort of full of worship, “You take me so well.”

Y/N blinks up at him, lips swollen post his ministrations and parted, slick with spit. Harry adjusts his grip, balancing his weight, and curls his lengthy digits over the base of his cock, aiming it back to that pretty, pretty mouth. 

Her jaw practically unhinges at the implication, tongue sticking out to daub at his cockhead when he croons, “And you’ll take a little more for me, sweetheart. Won’t you?” 

The sultry plush of his mouth curls up, all smug like when the tip of her tongue prods at his head, and then he feeds himself back into the warmth of her mouth. 

“Yeah,” Harry grunts, hips rolling slow and cautious as he guides himself in, “Yeah, you will.” 

He settles back into a pace of shallow, jutting thrusts, slow, and calculated, and testing. But then those melt and meld into something smoother, something deeper that brushes the back of her throat. Her fingers stretch wide and open and curl helplessly, never quite squeezing over his own digits, and Harry basks in the wet, pornographic sounds that envelop his shaft. Even as she tries to dim their volume, the sound of her sputtering around his cock isn’t something she can exactly mask when he brushes her gag reflex, again, and again. With every prod forward, every second she spends with her jaw wide open for him, that flame in her core kindles higher and higher. When he pulls out, jaw clenched and tummy flexing, ridges of his abs caught in the shadows, it’s like he pours kerosene. 

“Suck,” her friend tells her, soft-spoken as he nudges with his hips. His palm cradles his cock, fingers curled under the base. But her range of motion is limited, and Harry tips it up from her wanton, slick lips. Almost like it’s purposeful, because it definitely is.

A tentative tongue slips out to draw over his balls, and the way his front teeth lodge against the plush of his bottom lip, head cocked to indulge in the innocuous peer of her eyes beneath him — that’s a pretty sight she can make out even through the lack of light. She takes a million mental snapshots with her pupils, all of him in his all, curls dangling from the angle and the sharp line of his nose, his panting mouth as her tastebuds drag, sinew of muscle at his abdomen flexing, a rise and fall. The barest shape of the dark anchor etched into his wrist, his long, ring-clad fingers, the way they curl over his cock. The shape of it hovering over her face. 

A low groan squeezes past the door he’s made with his teeth, and then he says, “Yeah. There. Go on.” 

Her tongue morphs to her mouth, lips latching over lightly and sucking, just as he’d directed, and parting teases paste to him like doting kisses. Her lashline bounces as her eyes attempt to make his responses out through the rough angle and the dark that coats them. His head craned back there, his tummy rising and falling in pants there, his face tipped down over her to watch. The most insightful — and frankly, the most satisfying — are the sounds. 

The hisses of air he sucks in through his teeth, the way huffs fall out from between his open lips. They’re slow, and they come out like he’s trying to control them for the sake of the decibel, but they shake as they escape, and that’s a telltale. And then there’s the moans. 

There aren’t many of those to indulge in, but there’s a couple, one that Harry can’t seem to curb, despite his seemingly best efforts, when Y/N rolls her tongue over him all slow-like and comes off with a pop. And then another, later, that has him hanging his head when she stipples kisses to the sensitive skin there. 

“Christ, you’re gonna kill me.” 

The young woman hums, maybe in agreement or maybe goading, lashes batting innocently beneath him as she draws her lips over his sac aimlessly. 

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and then he stifles and clams up like he’s contemplating. When her tongue drags over him again he seems to make a decision, tearing himself away and kneeing his way back until he’s hovering over her thighs, his cock bobbing and wet with spit, “Sit up. Take this off.” 

Do this, do that. A shudder climbs up the knobs of her spine, slithering its way up the bone as she basks in the dominating note plucking at his tone. The sweatshirt catches on her hair and tugs strands, but it’s frenzied, somehow fond, the way his hands rove up her sides and slip up her back, roaming over hot skin to toggle at the back of her bra.

Then it’s, “Roll over,” with the last of her clothing discarded into the darkness, somewhere beside them in the same, sloppy pile with her shorts and her underwear. “Gonna—“ she thinks he sheds his t-shirt then, imagines his muscles rippling and flexing as he pulls it off, over his head from the back, “—fuck you like I want your snug cunt wrapped around me forever.” 

And then go his shorts, judging by the way his weight dips and balances, the shuffling from behind as he kicks them off and they’re flung somewhere by his ankle. He presses up onto her, grappling her by the hip, all warm weight and everything brushing together. 

“You wanna bounce on my cock, baby?” Harry murmurs, pink lips grazing her temple. A curl tickles at her cheekbones when he ducks to skim his teeth over her earlobe, to ghost a breath of promise — of foreshadowing against her neck when he tells her, sultry low and smooth like honey, “Be a good girl and ask Daddy nicely. Maybe then I’ll let you.”  

Shit. Fucking Shit. That little word teems down her ears and hikes all the way down her nervous system and back up, lighting everything in her alive.  

Quietly, barely over a whisper, Y/N beckons, “Please.” And when Harry doesn’t immediately move, she licks out at her slips, swallows, and pleads, “Daddy. I need you. Need you inside.” 

In response, her friend cups a hand over a love handle and guides his cock to press against her. But he doesn’t breach. 

“Better, but not quite,” he sighs. There’s leaves rustling outside in the gentle breeze, but Y/N doesn’t hear anything besides the rush of blood in her ears when she begs more, and it doesn’t get any quieter when Harry rewards her by tucking himself inside and pumping forward, just about halfway. 

It’s a crying shame when he doesn’t make any motion to keep going. And then it’s quiet besides their panting breaths intermingling. Eventually, though, he does talk.

“Fuck yourself on it,” Harry instructs, cadence ludicrously controlled given that half of his cock is tucked into her. Y/N peers over her shoulder to catch glimpses of his furrowed brows — the rip in the stitch of semblance. She can only manage to see so much. He ducks his head and nips at the shell of her ear, coaxing tingles down her neck, her shoulders, all the way from her nape. “Go on. Don’t pretend to be shy about it.” 

Fucking fuck. How can she not be, she thinks, when he talks like that? 

There’s a heat that seeps over her the crest of her cheekbones where he can’t see, and she squeezes over him in response to the filth. Harry settles back up. From the corner of her eye, Y/N notes lines of muscle shaping his arms as he hovers over her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she arches her hips up a tad and nudges back. It’s not enough — it’s maybe an inch, and she rocks forward by pressing her hips down and then repeats the motion. Just as there was a lack of control over her shame when he spewed dirty, brazen, filth, there’s also a lack of motion when she’s rolled forward with her tummy pressed to the ground. There’s only so much — so many inches she can ride back on when she’s rendered immobile. 

He knows it, too — it’s obvious by the poorly muffled note of mirth in his tone from behind, “Good girl. But you can do better than that, can’t you?” 

Helplessly, Y/N grits her teeth, fingers tangling into the fabric of her sleeping bag as she rolls her hips back in another attempt. It’s stuttery, and awkward, and not really a seamless, Shakira-esque roll at all. It’s a poor shuffle, hips raising more than traveling back. 

“Come on,” Harry goads, tutting like her tries are half-assed and she’s not currently exerting her body into creating motions that are simply unrealistic, “Take it proper. You want it? Then take it. Show me.” 

Camping is supposed to be wholesome. Camping is supposed to be laughter, and deep, pure breaths of air that scrub out the tainted glaze of city life from the walls of your lungs, sticky like cigarette smoke residue on the walls of a house. It’s hiking boots stuffed with the thickest socks. It’s marshmallows on twigs over curdling flames that lick up, it’s flashlights, and spooky myths and legends verbalized, and more laughter. 

Instead, Y/N is camping, and she’s currently barely grinding over inches of Harry’s cock. 

“I can’t,” she grits out, frustrated, but it sounds more like a whine than anything with bite.

“You can’t? Sure you can, pet,” Harry grapples over her hip, bracing on one arm in, honestly, an impressive showcase of athleticism, and manually rakes her hips back over him. It allows for more — more of him, more of his cock, more of his touch. More of him splitting her open and spreading her apart over him. “Just like this, right?” 

She’s sure he must be meeting her at least a quarter, if not halfway, though. It all feels like a devious ploy. Y/N whines. He makes this amused sound then, one of those puffs expelled through his nostrils like a half-laugh, accompanied by a hum. And then he pulls out and pumps his hips forward, until he’s flush to her backside, and then reverses and repeats. Three times. He gives her three, good, long, full thrusts, smoothing out to the tip and in to the root until she’s stuffed, just like he’d promised. Then, he presses in all the way and just basks in her heat. 

“Better?” Harry asks, but his tone catches on a quiet grunt and wavers in its prior composure. She squeezes over him, really squeezes, and he muffles a groan with the seal of his mouth. For a second, he doesn’t say anything at all, and then the filth spills again. It’s odd how patronizing he can sound, despite the way her cunt so obviously affects him, “Need Daddy to do all the work, is that it?” 

Y/N hums. There isn’t much she can say to disagree because it’s good. At some point, his slow rolls morph into sharp juts, and the brace of his arms bends and gives until his chest is flush to her back. 

“Please, please, please, please,” Y/N croaks out the mantra, muzzled by the smush of her cheek to the ground with the pressure of his hand palming at the side of her skull. 

“Shh,” Harry rocks forward, fingertips twitching into her roots like a meld of petting and admonishment. He rocks into her until he’s flush against her backside, splitting her over him to the hilt, “Shh …don’t need to beg, sweetheart. You can have it. Have it all.”

He’s warm weight over her, hard muscle like hot, sticky stone as he works into her from behind. He’s a welcome stretch, a pleasant burn, inches of bliss that her spongy walls cling to in a warm hug. He’s tips of curls brushing over her cheeks, filthy words in a murmur flush to the shell of her ear, little, repressed grunts and shuddery exhales as his hips rock. He’s a headlock that squeezes over her throat deliciously and keeps her neck craned back. It’s in this perfect way that almost has her gasping for breath. 

The young woman practically bites into her tongue to curb a nearly animalistic groan that climbs from the depths of her chest and squeezes out past her detained windpipe. She doesn’t need to try as hard when his opposite arm shimmies up over the poorly-cushioned sleeping bag, when his hand clamps against her mouth, palm smushing over her lips. Instead, her high whimper catches on his skin and muffles out. Her nostrils flare over his digits when Harry shushes and chastises through grunts. 

“I know, baby. I know. Need you to be — shit — a good, quiet girl for me, though.”

Her irises nearly loll back into her skull, fluttery for the ceiling of fabric in their sockets at the dominating tone of his cadence. 

“Gonna be good for me? Make me—“ his words taper off when he muzzles a groan with the seal of his own lips, and what comes out is hushed, and masculine, and obviously bridled. But it doesn’t make her as hungry as when he beckons, “—Make me pleased with you?”

Because she wants to please him, wants to be good, wants his digits to press harder over her tongue when he slinks them into her mouth. It’s not her fault when the motion siphons a whimper. So Harry does — press harder that is, an inclination for her lips to wrap over his fingers, his chin tucked over her shoulder. His mouth presses to her temple, gracing her with puffs of air through his nose as he rocks into her.

“There we go,” Harry coos, soft and barely over a whisper when her mouth seals over the intrusive digits, “There’s a good girl. Let’s keep those pretty sounds to ourselves.” 

He rocks into her until she’s whining into his hand, until they’re really slick with sweat, and he’s grazing at his own peak, working until it unravels him from the inside out. She’s still making hushed sounds against his palm when he groans all low into her hair and his motions melt into something stuttery, when he empties ribbon after ribbon as she clenches over him and milks him through it.

He’s probably going to rifle through the dark for some discarded fragment of fabric to clean the mess. It’ll be haphazard on account of the night, and she’ll still feel the sticky remnants, dried up at the peaks of her inner thighs in the morning. But it won’t really be gross. Sort of a sordid, morning-after keepsake, sort of a dirty thrill as they pack their stuff among the others in their cohort. Sort of, probably, an excuse to fuck later in the day when they have a moment alone to themselves, reminiscing on the night before. 

But before that, he’ll probably clean his mess and run a hand down the vale of her side in a praising caress, like he normally does. Probably lay next to her for a bit before sneaking off to his own tent because, even though they’re just friends that fuck, he’s never been weird about cuddling — aftercare is sort of a must. He’ll probably say goodnight with another searing kiss, the kind that burns deep inside, because every time he leaves is kerosene actively poured into the pit of a bonfire. Because every time he leaves, she wants him more.

Tomorrow they’ll still be friends. 

Just friends that fuck.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Naga boyfriend head cannons

Gender neutral reader

Warnings:light NSFW, brief mention of kink choking, biting, mentions of eating rodents, snakes

Minors Don't Interact!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

You are his personal heater I'm sorry I don't make the rules. Your body is warm and he wants that warm. It's a bonus that it comes from you, he loves you.

Ha you have cold hands? So does he don't worry about it.

Oh you have warm hands? Let him hold them. Hold his face in your hands he will melt into them this poor touch starved man.

At the start of the relationship he couldn't stand you touching him. It wasn't that he hated when you touched him oh no no no he absolutely loves when you touch him. He's just scared he's not used to being touched so gently before and he's terrified that he'll hurt you with his large size and not realize it. It doesn't help that once he started to get sexual feelings for you everytime you touched hin turned him on. Your pinkie could have lightly grazed his shoulder and he would hve grown aroused.

Further into the relationship he knows how much you can handle you and will absolutely man handle you. You'll be walking past him and he'll use his tail to swoop you in so he can cuddle you. He still gets turned on real easy but it's more tame now. Doesn't mean he won't be tame when having sex though.

Home boy is kinky will choke you if your also into and biting is a must. If it's agreed too and he's not venomous he'd love to bite you, really sink his fangs in. There will be times you'll be completely wrapped up in his tail will he fucks you.

If you manage to top him he'll be leaning on his own tail draped out on it begging and panting. He didn't know he could be so sensitive before.

Times he's being a grumpy pants he'll snap right out of it if told you'd top him. Instant good mood.

Whenever it gets even slightly cold he's super clingy. Will do grabby hands at you until you set down whatever your working on and come cuddle him.

Owns 700 heating blanket, hope one or both of you have a good paying job cause the electric bill is oit if this world.

Don't insult him by offering to feed him mice or rats thats gross. Guinea pigs have more meat on them any way. Just give him a BLT you weirdo he eats normal foods.

Hates broccoli though. Introduce him to cheesy broccoli and it's a whole new ball park for him.

Will be so confused on why you have a pet reptile, doesn't see the appeal.

Pet snake you say? Your mistake that's your guys child. Will refer to as himself as dad when talking to the snake.

"Now Junior be a good boy for dad and let me change out your water. Junior? Junior please get out of your water... Yes I see you blowing bubbles it's very cute."

The snakes name isn't junior he just keeps calling him junior.

Will get himself a shirt saying number one dad and wear it any time he picks the snake up.

Loves soaking in the tub, join him he'll love it.

He'll wash your hair and die from bliss if you wash his it feels so good.

Shedding is a cranky embarrassing time for him please be patient he's feeling very uncomfortable. If it's early in the relationship he won't want you near him, it's not you it's him he's not comfortable enough to have anyone bear him during this vulnerable time. If it is further into the relationship he'll be more comfortable with you being around him but just don't get to close to him, just be there for emotional support. Now if the relationship is a good amount of years in he'll act all spoiled asking you to peal his shed off for him after he soaked for a few hours at the least. He'll get all whinny and clingy demanding cuddles and snacks.

Bundling in a ball with way to many heated blankets on, this man is a fire hazard. Fire men hate him.

Can't cook for shit. Will order every meal out if you let him. Hates doing the dishes but he's good at vacuuming and dusting. Likes tidying up, not a fan of messes. He'll make sure he does his fair share of the chores and if he sees your having a bad day he'll take on more chores. Will buy your your favorite foods and snacks in hopes of making you feel better.

[pyr0-kai]

Mike Schmidt Headcannons

#2 electric boogaloo

Super short but I had free time in class, I also have no ideas rn raaaaa

—

- mans is naturally very warm, Living heater <3

- Probably just sleeps in shorts or sweatpants

- Mans is like a big teddy bear when you two are alone in bed

- Hates waking you up when he has a nightmare, but often will on accident when he pulls you close and hides his face in your neck

- He probably has his baby blanket hidden somewhere

- He doesn’t like being too cuddly with you around his sister, but he will always have an arm around you in the house

- He isn’t a very good cook, he prefers for you too cook, and he’ll help prepare everything

- He always gets worried if he wakes up and you aren’t in bed with him

- Abby likes to sleep in bed with you and mike if she has a bad dream

- Abby draws the 3 of you together a lot

- She thinks of you as an older sibling/parent type of figure

[spicywhenspeaking]

heaters out: noah x reader

Just some fluff about you and Noah dealing with a little power outage during your weekend away.

🥶🌬️⛄️❄️🩵

“Its freezing, Noah can you check make sure the heater is on please?” you ask from the bundle of blankets you’re buried under on the bed. Noah surprised you by whisking you away for the weekend to a secluded bed and breakfast in th mountains.

“Oh shit.” You hear noah mumble from the other side of the room. “Umm, I think the power is out. Let me run down to the front desk and ask really quick.” He runs over to where you’re huddled and gives the top of your head a kiss before quickly exiting.

You get out of bed to add more layers on, one of Noahs hoodies he brought back from tour and a second pair of fuzzy socks you packed. Hoping back under your mountain of covers you wait for Noah to get back. Several minuets pass and Noah returns with a bundle of fire wood, more blankets and a thermos of something.

“Well a few things.” He begins. “The power is out and we are snowed in for at least the next day or two until the snow plows can get up to clear the roads. Good news is I have firewood, more blankets and hot chocolate.” He throws the blankets onto the already comically large lump on the bed and sets to building a fire in the fire place. Thats the great thing about staying in cute bnb’s like this. Each room has a beautiful fire place but unfortunatly the electrical work is old and apparently prone to outages when the snowfall is heavy.

Crawling out of the cave of blankets, you move to sit on the small loveseat next to Noah as he pours two mugs full of steaming hot chocolate. “There is also a huge collection of games down in the library if you want me to beat you at monopoly again.” Noah jokes and you knock into his shoulder “hey! You totally skimmed from the bank last time.”

The two of you laugh as you warm up by the fire and drink the delicious chocolaty beverage that heats you from the inside out. “This is the best hot chocolate i’ve ever had.” You groan as you finish the last sip. Noah grabs a blanket off the the bed and you cuddle closer together, watching the fire shift in orange and reds and hear the wood crack and splinter. “They said they’d bring some more wood when it’s closer to dinner time so we should stay plenty warm tonight.” Noah tells you. We spend most of the day cuddled and reading by the fire.

Before dinner, which is soup the owner of the air bnb cooked over the fireplace in the main room. We played a game of monopoly like Noah suggested and he beats you. “How!? How are you so good at this game? You- you capitalist!” You joke and he holds his hand to his chest, gripping his heart. “Capitalist? I resent that, I’m just a master strategist.” You roll your eyes and laugh “okay, okay, but next time I get to pick the game.” He holds out his hand to shake and says “you got a deal.”

“Perfect. Strip poker it is.” His eyes widen and then he gets knowing look in his eyes. “You’re just trying to get me naked arent you? Last poker night you nearly got Jolly to bet the keys to his new car.” You both laugh because you’ve always won when you played poker. “What can I say, I guess I’m just lucky.” He leans over the small table you were playing at and kisses you softly. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

After eating you decide to both bundle up and go on a walk in the snow.

“Wow, it's so beautiful. I haven’t seen snow like this since I was a kid” you pick up some of the snow in your hands and ball it up tight. Noah is looking out onto the snow covered field so he doesn’t see you when you wind up to lob a snowball right into his left shoulder.

“oh! It’s on now!” He exclaims as he rushes to make his own snowball to throw in retaliation. The two of you spend the next 20 minutes until the sun has begun to set, throwing snowballs at each other until you start to feel the cold sneaking into your coats.

“Okay, time to go in and warm up” Noah says as he wraps his arms around your shoulder and ushers you back inside the bnb.

Heading back up to the room you get inside and quickly remove the first layer of our snow covered clothes. Hanging them to dry on the coat rack while Noah goes to start up the fire again.

In your warmest pajamas you sit cuddled on the love seat in front of the fireplace as Noah opens the bottle of wine the owner gave him after dinner and pours you each a glass. “This, along with the fire should warm us up pretty fast.” I comment as I take a sip of the silky red liquid. “I can think of a few other ways we could warm up.” Noah says in a sultry voice as he leans to place a soft kiss to my neck.

[overwatchfics]

i saw youre doing requests! can i request dating headcanons where y/n is a blackwatch agent also dating a fellow blackwatch agent (genji, cass, moira, and reaper)? tia! <3

Blackwatch Dating HC's

Already did Cassidy's so just the rest of Blackwatch.

Genji

Not at his healthiest, but God damn his angstiness is kinda hot for you.

While he is focused on vengeance against his brother, you manage to pull him out of it or you help him vent and vow to help him out.

Genji really appreciates the gesture

When Genji is off of his vengeful Shimada bs he'd love to take you to the arcade, an old past time of his.

He's not really in it for playing to win anymore he just likes seeing the smile on your face when you're playing with him.

Anything to tear him away from his Blackwatch work.

If your a electrical engineer of any kind hell occasionally let you mess with the lighting on his body

You totally didn't use his body as a disco ball while blasting funk nope

When it's just the two of you in a private place, he shows his love through physical touch

Genji likes to cradle your face and lightly graze his thumbs across your skin

If you're lucky he might take off his mask and ask to kiss you

You're going to have to be real patient with him, after his murder he's real insecure about his being as a cyborg.

If he does kiss you he's gentle, he has a feral side that wants to go all put, but around you he wants to savor the moment and keep you there in his arms.

As far as dinners go, he doesn't really eat much... not much left of a body to sustain anyways, but he'll be more than happy to help you cook!

He's great with a knife, doesn't have to worry about nicking himself.

In the bed, Genji's a cuddler. He is semi-emberassed about it. He falls asleep on his side and wake up wrapped around you.

I liken Genji to a cat, he just rubs up against you trying to get some affection and cuddles he's too scared to ask for.

If you two are on missions together, he sticks by you, no arguments and everyone on the team knows this. Not even Commander Reyes can separate the two of you.

After long missions spent apart Genji shows up at your room or vice versa but no matter you hell take you into his arms and press his head against your shoulder.

He fears losing you as he has lost himself.

Moira

Listen, you have to be into science if you're going to roll with Moira.

Since you're a science person or an agent who operates in the science division you can expect to be working with Moira a lot

While she won't experiment on you (unless you ask) she'll ask for your participation in helping her with an experiment and analysis.

You both know it's hard to find time for either of you to go out together, so the best time for dates is unsurpsingly in the lab.

Moira will gladly do a couple silly experiments to keep moral high with various experiment such as giving a rabbit a pair of human arms, exploding goop, and some stuff they probably belongs in Area 51.

After it's been in exhausting day you two will find it easier to just walk over to whoevers room is the closest and crash there. Not before before pulling you close and kissing you. Moira looks into your eyes and wonders how you can put up with her insanity.

Blanket hugger I swear, she's not even ashamed about it

She also has the coldest feet she's so tall most blankets won't cover her completely.

Hope you don't mind being Moira's little space heater, she'll leech your warmth.

Has all of her limbs wrapped around you kind of like a spider

Loves you more than she'll ever admit.

If you're out on the field, you can bet sharing notes and observations is a must.

Since you're same department you two get to stick together

Gabriel (Commander Reyes)

Big man, soft heart.

It's lonely at the top and he loves when you drag him out of the base to do stuff.

Gabriel loves to go to the movies, horror and comedy in particular

Also gives him an excuse to have you hold his hand during some scary parts

Also adores glancing at you laughing at some dumb scene in a comedy

Always brings his heavy gray hoodie and has you wear it if the theater gets to cold. Gabe always manages to grab a picture of you in it and set it as his screen saver.

Type of man to take you out to dinner afterward, and refuses to let go of your hand.

On base you can hang with him in his room, since he's Commander his accomadations are nicer than yours.

He has a heated blanket and you can't find the heart to tell him no when he asks you if you want to cuddle with him.

Gabriel is a big man, but the way he holds you is unmatched to anyone else

He is gentle with his touch and likes to rest you on top of his chest.

His heartbeat puts you at ease and sleep finds you easier than normal.

On missions with him, it's common to get separated since he's Commander there are times where he works from a computer to strategize in comms. But the few times he's on the field you two are a force of nature.

Unstoppable really.

After long missions apart, Gabriel searches for you and when he find you he pulls you into a searing kiss and lifts you up, smiling with tears in his eyes tha you're ok.

With his warm hand in yours, tomorrow is a new day and any day with Gabe is a good day.

A/N: I already did Cassidy's for dating HC's so I did the other homies of black watch. I'm going to sleep now but I'll update the master list tomorrow.

Have a request? Drop it in the request box and be sure to check the rules!

[violetszone]

Small Explosion

Lewis x fem!reader

From this request

Summary: He didn't solve some problems in the house even though you told Lewis, there was an explosion in the end so you got angry with Lewis and you decided to sleep in the guest room Lewis played with the air conditioner settings to get you back to the room.

WARNINGS: Bad English, angst, crying baby,electricity leakage,small explosion,not edited writing,trauma

Summer break is the best time Lewis can spend time with you.After Posie was born, you didn't get a chance to see Lewis because you couldn't go to most of the races.That's why you loved summer breaks too.After the races were over and Lewis came home, everything was fine at first. There were a few problems in the house, but for now you couldn't say it so as not to annoy Lewis.

It's been a week since summer break and you finally told Lewis about the problems, the most important thing was to check the sockets for everyone's safety in the house.When you were a kid, you could say you were traumatized because several sockets and machines exploded in your house, and you kept insisting that Lewis handle it.

In the evening you were cooking in the kitchen and Posie was playing with her toys in a corner of the kitchen in her highchair.You mixed the soup, went to the cupboards opposite the stove to get pepper, suddenly there was a cracking and popping sound, you involuntarily let out a small scream and closed your ears when Posie was watching you, she started crying when she heard your scream, you immediately went to her and took your crying daughter in your arms and tried to calm her but you were shaking involuntarily.

Hearing the voices, Lewis came running to you from the upper floor, you wiped the tears that fell on your sleeve without realizing it, and walked past Lewis with Posie on your arms and left the kitchen.Lewis followed you into the hall "what just exploded in the kitchen are you ok?"

Posie was still crying and you couldn't stop it you started bouncing her lightly in your arms "Lewis how many times have I told you to look at those goddamn sockets, shtt baby it's passed  please calm down please, the socket exploded" Lewis approached and took Posie in his arms and hugged, little girl calmed down she was tense you sat on the couch your shaking hadn't quite gone

"God YN don't exaggerate it's a small electrical leak look nothing happened we'll fix it" you looked back angrily "Are you kidding Lewis? Posie was there if there was a bigger explosion then what would happen" Roscoe came to you barking and looked at you "Even your dog cares more than you" You said these things and you picked up Posie who was tired of crying and took her to her room

You gave up on cooking and were still angry so you decided to sleep in the guest room tonight,Lewis was sitting on the bed reading a book when you entered the room. When he saw you come in, he put the book aside and began to watch you. You took your pillow from his side and went to the closet to get a thin sheet."What are you doing? You're not going to separate  beds for a reason like that, are you?" 

"Lewis I'm so angry so I don't want to sleep here tonight okay good night to you if Posie wakes up you'll see I'll be in the other room" as you were leaving the room Roscoe got up from the dog bed in your room and followed you,you settled on the bed Roscoe lay next to you and tried to sleep after a while you woke up from the heat when you looked at the clock it was only 1 hour passed, you looked at the air conditioner in the room the heater was set to the setting so the room was warm

You turned off the air conditioner and took your pillow and walked into your room with Lewis, he was waiting for you "I guess you couldn't sleep without me darling hm?" you laughed and threw your pillow at him "heater setting is nice tactic still I haven't forgive you completely" you went to bed Lewis hugged you and kissed your cheek

"You were so right sweetie, but I forgot, the next time you say something, I promise I will do it" you smiled and closed your eyes.

[shu-of-the-wind]

so it looks like a lot of people in the us are dealing with Really Nasty Bitter Cold this weekend. as a transplant from arizona to minnesota, and having spent approx 3 winters here now, here are a few suggestions on what to do if your heating goes out. this is not an exhaustive list and i encourage people to add stuff to it. 

1. pick one room for everyone in the house to congregate in. yes, being around other people will annoy the shit out of you. but bodies generate heat, and everyone in one room will generate MORE heat. do not go outside if you do not have to. 

2. immediately close all doors to rooms you are not using and block any gaps beneath the door with clothes or towels. this will block any cold air from getting into your central room. 

3. cover all windows with blankets or towels to keep cold from getting in through the glass. make sure your windows are closed. 

4. if your electricity is still running, run space heaters in your central room. if you have a fireplace, use your fireplace, just be careful of smoke and make sure your flue is clean. 

5. LAYER YOUR CLOTHES. wear multiple pairs of pants and socks. wear multiple sweatshirts. wear gloves if you have to. loose and lightweight stuff is good. try to stay moving around and if you start getting cold do some jumping jacks to get your blood going (if you can, obviously). 

6. if you’re able to cook and your stove is still working, cook something that will take a long time. long-simmering soups, etc work well. it generates a lot of heat and the food will keep you warm. that being said: DO NOT JUST RUN YOUR OVEN WITHOUT COOKING ANYTHING. THIS COULD GIVE YOU CARBON MONOXIDE POISONING.

7. keep your faucets running just a little bit. it will keep your pipes from freezing and bursting. also, keep cabinet doors open to keep pipes from freezing. 

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

*breaks fingers* Let's go, mod Sus' rant on 247°F (2011)

Talking from the viewpoint of a finnish person, while the movie itself is American, and no I haven't actually watched this one but I did read the plot summary and watch a little bit for proper arguments.

TLDR: Characters are freaking idiots and physics don't work in this world, apparently.

For the reference, 247° fahrenheit is about ~120° celcius. So yes we're talking about hot sauna. I personally can stand 100°C for a while at best but anyways.

I guess we could start by inspecting the sauna itself first. It's supposedly electric sauna (which, it doesn't even look like a proper one but more spa/steam sauna than an actual good one) but also with this large rock pillar stove in the middle of RELATIVELY LARGE ROOM. With no leveled up seats, just one seats on same level + you could sit on the backrests for more space and height I guess. Compare that to actual proper finnish sauna:

This is a bit of a mix of modern and traditional sauna but only by the looks. Pay attention to seats on different levels, you want to have seats near the ceilings because that's where it's the hottest. Hot air raises up so it's cooler at the floor level, if not even very cold after getting used to the temperature at standing level.

Now the stove in the movie is supposedly the kind you throw water onto to release the steam and more heat. And here comes the fun part. In the beginning, they set the temperature to 187° F AKA ~86° C???? AND THEN THEY SAY IT'S "CRAZY HOT"???? IN THIS VERY LARGE ROOM WHERE HEAT SPREADS OUT A TON? BITCH THAT PLACE IS COLD and they act like they're already toasting in there???? Weak ass americans. AND THEY DIDN'T EVEN TOSS WATER ONTO STOVE BEFORE THAT, they have just this one huge heat source in the middle of LARGE ROOM that's like WARM at best??? You're supposedly to throw water on that thing, or otherwise it'd be same as you'd just stand next to a hot cooking stove. You don't even start sweating properly without the steam which helps with the heat releasing from your body. You're just cooking yourself with that thing.

Okay, so just? Turn off the electric heater (which becomes a major plot point of the movie, so that's not an option here for some reason?), and don't toss water onto stove. LAY DOWN ON THE FREAKING FLOOR??? WHERE IT'S COOLEST OR EVEN COLD BECAUSE IT'S ASSUMINGLY MARBLE/ROCK/WHATEVER FLOOR. Sure if the average temperature in the room is 247°F aka ~120°C it is hot, but it's still cooler at floor level far away from the stove.

And speaking of the heater. At first I thought it was like, they set the heater to get hotter and hotter on purpose but why would you do that if you can't handle shit??? I guess the thermosthat malfunctions or some shit or because the heat keeps rising??? That's not how electronics work as far as I'm aware but suspend my disbelief I guess. I can't tell too much what the characters decide to do without spoilers but let's say they're all massive idiots with their choices. This is all on them. (BTW if this was a traditional wood-heated sauna, just stop putting more logs in the fire, lol).

Okay, let's assume it's all because uh physics broke or something. It's getting hot in there. You got a small window there, and even in trailer we see characters manage to break it. But apparently??? THE HEAT DOESN'T ESCAPE ENOUGH FROM IT???? WHAT. You can this huge room with one heat source, it's cold outside, and the heat still doesn't escape enough to make it more managable in there or at least near the window to cool them off??? Physics, hello???

Like legit the entire point of the movie is it's getting too hot in there but there's so many things that help you to stay cool in there until something gets fixed. The characters aren't even drunk which would've made this so much more belieable because alcohol is probably the main reason (aside sudden health problems like cardiac arrest) people would die in saunas because they pass out in there. But no, this is just idiot characters being idiots.

Also take your freaking clothes off, cowards. You can't even call yourself a sauna movie if there's no bare butts and peenors and natural hanging booba in non-sexual bathing setting through entire movie smh.

[thezombieprostitute]

Sparks Fly - Part 1

Summary:  After working as an engineer for Wilford & Gilliam Trust for several years you find evidence of seedy dealings and burned books. After turning in the evidence you find yourself in danger and seek help. You're taken into the protection of a mob family where you run into your high school best friend, Mace.

Word Count: ~1000

Warnings: Implied violence and attempted murder. Please let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Kind of a short chapter to get things started. At the moment Reader has no descriptors. This is part of the Garbage Men AU.

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Mace was enjoying his time at the bar. It wasn't often he and all the other guys got to go out together. Well, all except Curtis. Him and Teach were still in their Exciting New Relationship phase. He couldn't fault them, especially since he was able to prod Curtis on how he'd been right all those weeks ago.

He was enjoying watching Hal trying to teach Jake some pickup artist stuff when he got a text: Prep the guest suite. Mace put his phone away and paid his tab before letting the guys know what was happening.

The Guest Suite was the name given to one of the nicer apartments the family kept as safe houses. Mace was generally in charge of their upkeep, seeing as how he was handy with just about everything they needed. Furnaces, fuses, water heaters, even plumbing, he was really good at fixing and maintaining the apartments. It’s why he was officially in charge of the maintenance for the low-income housing that the Family funded. 

Several apartments were kept empty for specific reasons. The only one Mace didn’t touch was the Basement Studio, where Barnes and Fowler did their more intense interrogations. Curtis took responsibility for that one and Mace was happy to let him. Most of the others were Singles, kept open for victims of abuse or runaways in need of a safe space. There were a couple of Lofts for when Family members needed to lay low for a while. But the Guest Suite was something special, reserved solely for potential witnesses that the police were unable to keep safe. Its upkeep was focused on making it feel warm and welcoming and catered to witnesses, making them feel more inclined to testify, if only because they felt safe to do so. 

Part of prepping the Guest Suite was stocking the place with food. It was an off hour but Mace managed to gather up enough to last someone a couple of days, making a note to pick up more at a better time. He got to the apartment and set to work making the place ready. He stored the food, got the heater going and kept an ear out for any off noises while he did the rest of his work. He made sure the bed was made and even checked that the dishes and cooking supplies didn’t have a layer of dust.

While he was checking things he got another text, We’re here. Mace kept working and listened for the door to open. He made sure to keep himself where the guest would be able to see him immediately. It wouldn’t do to startle the guest. He was just double checking the security bars on the windows when he heard the door opening.

“Now this is where you’ll be staying,” he hears Huffman say. “Mace here has got the whole place secured and full of food. And if you need anything else, we can get it for you.”

“Mace?”

He turns around and sees you. It takes his brain a second to recognize you, “DC?”

You run up to Mace and hug him, “AC! God it’s been so long!”

“What kind of trouble are you in that brought you here, DC?”

“Umm…well..” you stutter.

“She’s got dirt on Wilford & Gilliam,” Huffman interrupts. “You two know each other?”

Mace looks at Huffman, “we went to high school together. We were really good friends, bonding over a shared interest in engineering.”

You giggle, “we were such nerds we even nicknamed each other after the AC and DC electrical currents. I was DC, Direct Current, because I had my life all planned out and was a straight shooter.”

Mace smiles shyly, rubbing his hand on the back of his head, “and I was AC, Alternating Current, because my plans were all over the place and my interests kept varying from month to month.” He turns to you, “you’re in trouble with Willford & Gilliam?”

“I…I was working for them and found some…irregularities in the finances. And the blueprints. And a few other things.” You start shaking at the memories of the past week and Mace pulls you in for a hug to steady you.

“They sent goons to kill her,” Huffman continued. “They’ve managed to find her at three different safe houses under my department's jurisdiction. I’m pretty sure I’ve got a mole or something. Barnes approved getting her set up here.”

Mace nods, “who do you have set for guard duty?”

Huffman gives Mace a once-over, “I’m thinking it should be you.” 

“Woah,” Mace argues, “I’m not guard duty material. I’m just maintenance and information!”

“Mace,” you whimper, “please? I’d really like to be protected by a friend, not a stranger.”

He looks into your eyes and sees how tired and stressed out you are. He knows you’d be safer with someone else but he can tell you need something familiar and safe or you’re going to be a nervous wreck.

“Okay,” he concedes. He turns to Huffman, “I’m still gonna want some back up or something.” Huffman nods in agreement. “And someone’s going to have to tell Curtis I’ve been commandeered for a little while.”

“I’ll make sure he agrees to the plan.”

“So you’re gonna talk to Teach?”

“Well, I do value my life, Mace.” Huffman heads out, leaving you and Mace alone together.

Part 2

Series Masterlist

Please let me know if you'd liked to be tagged in this series.

[ayyy-imma-ninja]

Does SK moon have panic attacks when it comes to fire sometimes?

Sometimes. It depends, really.

The annual fair holds a bonfire in the evening. Moon stays far away from it. He prefers electric heaters over fireplaces. He's nervous around candles and matches.

If a movie or TV show has a scene with somebody being set on fire, he can't watch it. If able, Sun will warn him should any scene come up.

If they ever need to cook while babysitting, Sun handles it. Otherwise, Moon orders food in. No lit stoves for him.

If Moon ever gets triggered and panics, Sun will throw a blanket over him to help calm him down. The blanket, in Moon's mind, puts out the fire. Though rare, if he has an attack in public, Sun himself becomes the blanket.

[fruitbowlsngoals]

For those asking about Little guy AU Dakota!

Most of the information is below the cut but if there are more questions please I've got so much id love to share ! ↓

Dakota stays in the hall of elements but he's also between housing with other heroes. If he's not in the hall of elements he's staying with Ms.G and Lightspeed.

His relationship with the Elementals in order from Best to worse-ish is;

Shockwave - they actively match energy and they frequently go out and about and tell him many many stories about being a hero. He also tends to hang out with Dakota more as he's temporarily suspended from hero duty. But basically hes Dakota's favorite

Tide - he is very informative and hes one of the main cooks in the house, he's also generally just an older brother/father figure who tends to encourage Dakota to do big things. Tide and Shockwave tend to watch over Dakota make often so he's got more of an understanding.

Seismic - he's also informative but he tends to act more like a brother , he mainly works with getting Dakota to try and control or manage his strength (, this household goes through so many things between melting, electrical burn out, waterlogging and now Dakota crushing various things)

Magma - He's a little scary he's really just got natural intimidation and a deadpan voice somirs hard to read his tone alot of the time. However despite that he makes good food and is helping Tide train them for Prime Academy. He's also a living heater and nightlight and Dakota has had plenty of good times going to him about nightmares.

Whirlwind - he's kind of distant, (he has been since shockwave got injured and Elle died) so he's a little upset that other heroes literally just passed them a child after losing their sister. But he's trying not to hold it against Dakota, and tends to stand up , step in, or do things when asked. He tends to push Dakota more academically (Dakota hates it)

Like started before when he's not with the Elementals he's with Ms.G and Lightspeed. They're literally just his moms at this point with Harlem being his weird uncle in a way. But he holds everyone in pretty high regards and quickly grew attached.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Op-Ed from the New York Times:

To keep the lights on, many utility companies are proposing to build dozens of new power plants that burn natural gas. North Carolina-based Duke Energy alone wants to add 8.9 gigawatts of new gas-fired capacity — more than the entire country added in 2023. Using their own projections of soaring energy demands as justification, these companies are also pushing back on the climate targets set by their states and the Biden administration.

If state regulators sign off on these plans, they will be gambling with our country’s future. We need to electrify everything from cars to appliances to slow climate change, but we won’t be able to reach our climate goals if we power all of those machines with dirty energy.

There is a better way. But to get there, legislators will need to overhaul the incentives driving utilities to double down on natural gas, so that they can turn a profit without cooking the planet.

Companies like Duke, Dominion Energy and Georgia Power argue that they need more gas-fired plants to reliably provide power during times of peak demand — for instance, on a hot summer weekday afternoon when home cooling systems and data servers are all humming at maximum output, and the grid strains to keep up. But those peaks tend to materialize only for a few dozen hours per year, and there are ways to deal with them that don’t require a massive amount of new methane-burning infrastructure.

The real reason the utilities want to build these plants is quite simple: The more stuff they build, the more money they make. Regulators let utilities charge their customers enough money to cover what they spend on assets like combustion turbines and wires, plus a generous rate of return (up to 10 percent) for their investors. This longstanding arrangement incentivizes power providers to build expensive things whether society needs them or not, in lieu of lower-cost, cleaner options, and to invoke their duty to keep the lights on as a post hoc rationalization.

Fortunately, utilities have plenty of ways to meet this new need.

They include “virtual power plants” — when technologies such as home batteries, rooftop solar systems, smart water heaters and thermostats are linked together and managed via software to provide the same services as a conventional power plant. Utilities in Vermont, Colorado and Massachusetts are already using them, to quickly respond to rising demand at a much lower cost than operating natural gas combustion turbines. According to one estimate, virtual power plants could lower U.S. utilities’ costs by as much as $35 billion over the next decade.

Utilities could also accelerate efforts to replace outdated transmission lines with newer ones that can carry double the electric current and to bring more battery storage online. They can compensate customers for using less energy during times when demand is high and invest far more in energy efficiency, helping customers to adopt devices that use less electricity.

All of these solutions would save customers money and reduce carbon emissions. They could, according to a Department of Energy analysis, meet the entire projected growth in U.S. peak electricity demand over the next decade.

[amfitzgerald]

𝙸𝚗 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝙾𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Bakugou x gn!reader

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: hard angst, reader's death, death of the main character, angst without comfort, explicit blood reference, self-mutilation, depression

𝑾𝑪: 3k

𝑸𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒌: Metal manipulation

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: In the middle of the cold dawn, Y/N went to the kitchen of the class dorm to make something hot to eat, not long after Bakugou also joined Y/N but both ended up having a fight, where Y/N vented to him all worries and insecurities stored in chest…..

»Sorry for error, translated by google translator, proofread by me. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tinkling of the rain beat against the rain from the dormitory of the U.A.

It was winter, and for that reason the rooms were cold and as the electric heater in Y/N's room was broken, she was forced to wear warm clothes to handle the cold.

Aizawa had told Y/N that this fault would be fixed, but the teacher had only been notified the day before and for that reason Y/N still couldn't get anyone to fix the much-loved heater.

However, from continuous exposure to the cold Y/N ended up getting a cold.

It was 00:54 and the young student was now heading, with lazy steps towards the kitchen of Y/N's class dormitory.

As soon as the teenager arrives, makes a quick hot chocolate, while yawning sleepily.

As soon as Y/N takes the plate with the cake and closes the door with her foot, the teen sees a paper on top of the cake.

Y/N ignores it, crumpling the paper with one hand and placing it next to the plate on the stone table, already imagining it would be Kaminari's thing.

Probably Denki was complaining, saying that the cake was his, and he wrote the paper just because everyone was eating the cakes that were his.

Y/N then goes back to the microwave, which should already be finishing heating the liquid, and then she hears footsteps coming from the stairs.

Everything was dark, Y/N preferred not to turn on the lights to preserve vision, and at the moment when the footsteps were heard in the entire room, the microwave finished heating the liquid so loved by Y/N.

As all the lights were off, Y/N couldn't see who the person was, even though she knew it was one of her classmates, the woman couldn't see who it was through the black silhouette.

However, as soon as the person approached her she saw that the person was Katsuki Bakugou, the explosive boy (literally).

The blonde approached, not giving a fuck who was there.

Y/N appreciated Bakugou's figure, yawning with his mouth wide open, noticing a thread of saliva connecting the roof of her mouth to his tongue, while rubbing her hair with one hand , and with the other lifted her nightshirt to scratch her abdomen.

To the teenager's own surprise, what turned Y/N on the most wasn't the abs, but the very trickle of saliva that seemed to be glowing and calling to Y/N self.

Y/N moaned softly at the sight.

At that moment what Y/N wanted most wasn't attack the blonde's lips and break that thread of saliva.

Bakugou continues on his way to the fridge just over 1 meter from the classmate.

Instantly, Y/N turns around and continues to do what had stopped.

Y/N takes the medium cup of hot chocolate and walking in lazy steps, but firm at the same time, sits on one of the four chairs at the cook's counter, and starts drinking the hot drink, interspersing it with the cake she found in the kitchen. kitchen fridge.

"Hu, shit." the boy's booming voice catches her attention. "Did you eat the cake?" Bakugou asks referring directly to the teen, who was perplexed that the boy was talking to the Y/N, and just not ignoring Y/N, as he always did.

"Which one?" the teen asks casually, while breaks off another piece of the Japanese Strawberry Shortcake that one of Y/N classmates had made, and casually pops it into her mouth, enjoying the wonderful taste.

Bakugou raises his head a little to see what Y/N was eating.

"Fuck, the one you're eating." he makes an expression of disgust and anger at the same time.

"Ah, so it wasn't from Kaminari."

"Wtf, of course it wasn't the fucking dumb electroshock." Y/N watches Bakugou excitedly. "He doesn't even like whipped cream."

"And you like?" Y/N asks him, enjoying the situation.

"Of course, you little shit! Otherwise I wouldn't be complaining, would I oh dumb?"

Y/N looks at the cake and laughs lightly.

"Are you finding this funny???"

"Like…I'm not disliking it…."

"You son of a bit-"

"It's like, I would never imagine Katsuki Bakugou fighting me or anyone in general over a piece of pink and white strawberry cake." the other teen says starting to laugh like a hyena.

Bakugou starts to blush and doesn't react, which made Y/N laugh even more.

"Shut up, you'll wake the others up."

"And since when do you care?"

"I don't care." he retorts frowning.

"Oh, that's right, I didn't eat the whole cake, there's still a piece on the plate." she lifts the plate to Bakugou, so he can see the small amount of cake left. Bakugou groans angrily in response, but before he can say something to offend the teen, she stops him. "Do you want?"

"What? What the hell are you implying?"

"Bakugou, I'm just trying to be nice, but you're driving me crazy." she says it seriously, but Bakugou takes it as a pickup line, which makes him angrier.

"Are you trying to seduce me now?"

"What the fuck, are you using drugs?" Y/N says confused and don't understand anything that was going through Bakugou´s head.

"I SWEAR THAT-"

"Bakugou, you've got to be kidding me, for God's sake, think with your head and not with your ass. I'm not hitting on you, dammit. Do you want the cake or not?"

In fact, the young teen wasn't hitting on him, but Bakugou was too confused to think straight.

"I don't want the fucking leftovers. I'm not a dog."

"Hmph, with that temper you sometimes look like one."

"I'll kill you." he grinds his teeth.

"Go ahead and try it, and see if you don't come out of this dead." He roars in rage, making the young woman roll her eyes. "By the way, there's still Kasutera left, do you want one?" she points to the place where the soft cake was kept, making Bakugou go there. "I can make tea for you to eat with Kasutera."

Bakugou calms down to have a civil conversation with his classmate.

"I'm not drinking this shit."

"Uh, why?" Y/N responds feeling humiliated and despised.

"Because you're the one who's going to do it." Bakugou replies simply, starting to make the tea.

"You're kidding me, you can only."

"Face it how you want, but I refuse to be poisoned by a child."

"Child? Dude, I'm literally 2 months older than you." Y/N responds in bewilderment.

"And remains a child."

"Are you trying to piss me off?"

Bakugou ignores Y/N while taking his tea from the classmate, and sits in the front chairs, still keeping some distance between the two.

"Another thing I never would have thought to see in my entire life-" Y/N announces, but Bakugou tries to shush the teen.

"I don't care, now shut your disgusting mouth and leave me alone."

"Katsuki Bakugou drinking tea and eating Kasutera leisurely while enjoying the early morning with me~" Y/N ignores his mean comment and placing Y/N hand on chin, resting elbow on the table, and smiles excitedly at the boy.

Bakugou rolls his eyes and drinks the tea.

"Just because I have a short fuse-"

"So you know that." the teenager interrupts, pretending to test his patience for the classmate.

Deep down Y/N just loved to annoy the blonde, because that was the only Y/N way of showing that liked him, in a romantic way….

"Of course I know, Y/N, are you stupid?" The answer took Y/N by surprise. "But apparently you don't know you're stupid. Unlike you, I know very well what I am… and what I want."

Y/N frowns in confusion.

"What do you mean by that?"

"You change expectations for the future very easily. You are so influenced and manipulated by others that it even hurts to see."

Wait, how does he know that… Bakugou notices me? Y/N thinks dumbfounded.

"What the fuck Bakugou. I've literally never been-"

"What? You've never been manipulated and influenced, have you?" he says seriously and Y/N sits on the next bench now being face to face with Bakugou, putting the food aside.

"Exactly." she answers and Bakugou laughs.

"You don't know anything anyway."

"Oh, I don't know anything, do I?" she scoffs, raising her eyebrows.

"You are so influenced by Aizawa, All Might and the other teachers that you don't even notice. When you yourself think you know what you want for the future, then a teacher comes along and helps you with something, highlighting your skills and then you change of opinion, and goes aimlessly. You make me feel sorry by you."

"…Do you notice me much?" Y/N asks looking at the table, playing with fingers.

Bakugou was right, Y/N hated that about her/him.

And it was no coincidence that it was one of her/his biggest insecurities.

"What the fuck, what does that have to do with it?"

"How do you know this about me?" Y/N rephrases the question.

"Before I'm explosive, I'm observant." he answers.

"And you say that like you understand me better than I understand myself."

"And that just goes to prove that you really don't know anything. I don't know what you have in your head to think that I try to understand the other people. Others are nothing unless obstacles to me. And you're not exempt from that. Anyway, I know a lot more than you know about yourself. After all, you ignore your own problems instead of facing them, don't you?"

"…What does that have to do with it?"

"Instead of facing them to evolve you as a person and understand yourself better, and in a way to see how far your limits can go, so that another day you can go further and become stronger, you just ignore them and pretend they don't exist. And it becomes an addiction. That's why you're the weakest one of the class. You hide all these messes behind your fake laughs. You're so sick and ridiculous." he scoffs with no mercy, making Y/N snap out of control of her/him body.

Y/N grabs the collar of his pajamas, and forces him to get very close.

"Don't you dare say those words to me again, you son of a bitch."

"You don't boss me around, you bastard."

In a totally momentary blow, Y/N lands a very hard punch on Bakugou's face, making him stagger back.

"I think I used a little more force than I thought." Y/N mutters staring down at her bloodied hand.

In another movement, equally momentary, Bakugou places his palm on top of the table, and in a jump transferring the strength to his upper body, he jumps to the other side of the table, knocking Y/N down.

They begin to fight, and at a certain point begin to use their quirk.

Y / N had the ability to use the metals around him to his advantage.

Bakugou launches an explosion towards Y/N who, using nearby metals, from small appliances to bars that held the building, and thus, fusing them all, managed to create a shield that protected her from the impact.

"YOU ARE CRAZY, THIS COULD HAVE FUCKING KILLED ME!!!" Y/N screams, dissolving the shield.

"AND YOU ARE NOT HESITTING TO PUT A PIECE OF METAL IN ME!" Bakugou retorts, while picking up a lamp and using an explosion, he launches it at Y/N, who manages to dodge it in time.

At one point, Bakugou unleashes another explosion and not giving time to dodge, Y/N is forced to break the glass while jumping, with the help of a metal bar.

The moment she hits the glass and shatters it with the metal next to her, she feels pieces of shattered glass make contact with her pajamas her, and although the pajamas were thick, they were already full of holes, and even her nightgown her. The inside that Y / N had under her pajama top dela did n't have a different fate.

The two were outside the dorms, fighting on the grass in the middle of the night while being wet by the heavy rain that was falling.

One of her legs had been injured by his outbursts, and Y/N was limping.

Y/N grabs Bakugou's anti-arm, as soon as Y/N loses balance and feels like is going to fall on top of an iron bar broken in half imperfectly, but very sharp.

The young student feels the hand start to burn, and notes that it was because of Bakugou.

"Bakugou, wait-" before Y/N could finish, Bakugou's other hand was on the side of Y/N's head, hinting that he was going to release an explosion right at Y/N's head.

Y/N is forced to free the hand, and as one of the legs was injured, Y/N staggers, and while stumbling moves the piece of metal with the left hand, but at the same time.

Bakugou without thinking twice kicks the metal throwing it away from where they were and disoriented Y/N who was trying to move the metal away and because of his impulsive blow, Y/N ends up falling backwards, taking Bakugou with Y/N, both without really realizing what was happening in those seconds.

As soon as they were both on the ground, the older student felt a terrible pain in the back, piercing Y/N's insides, but at the moment, Y/N didn't process it, the student was just concentrating on the confused expression that Bakugou was giving.

Only then did Y/N notice that was crying.

Crying as fuck.

It was the first time Y/N was crying in front of someone.

Y/N tried and managed to be strong in front of people, hiding the real emotions and worries, but at that moment Bakugou knew and saw Y/N's sadness.

"I-I know I'm a person who can be easily manipulated and influenced by people, it's totally unnecessary of you to rub it in my face. I'm giving everything I can at this fucking high school, shit I didn't even want to be here!" Y/N vented looking with mixed emotions at Bakugou, who soon recovered from his surprise.

"Then just change schools and try to live a normal life as a citizen, we both know you're not strong enough for this course, and-" he replies rudely, without the slightest delicacy for his classmate's moment of weakness.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU DON'T KNOW THE SHIT YOU'RE TALKING TO ME!" Y/N breaks down in tears and grabs his pajama shirt in despair. "I was forced to take this shitty course! It was giving it my all or prostituting myself, dammit! It's all or nothing. My parents died and my brother forced me to choose one of those options. My psychology is all screwed up, if I didn't do it this getting what my brother wants, he kills me!" Y/N starts crying more and more, making Bakugou regret every word he spoke to the classmate. "I can't stand up to my brother, and if I can't pass the course, I'd rather commit suicide myself than wait to see the shit he does to me!" Y/N bursts out crying more and more, making Bakugou regret every mean word he hurled at the other student.

"Y/N…" For the first time since she met Bakugou, Y/N sees him completely regretful.

"And yet you say you know more about me than I do? Fuck you, you don't know anything about me."

"…You're right, I don't know anything about you."

"Hmph, my parents saw potential in my powers and since I was a kid they've filled my head to follow that, and my brother has continued his sadistic legacy. But it's not like he cares about me, he only cares about the status, money and the women it will bring you if I become a hero. To begin with, I dread the field of war." she leaves his shirt and bends down, lifting her head to look at the moon now feeling her back burn, and she already knew what had fallen. "I really have to become a hero…I'm afraid of my brother." Y/N mutters, the voice cracking with pain, both physical and emotional.

Y/N had nothing left to lose and no.

"I'm sorry." he says after a few seconds of silence, making Y/N face him with tears still in the corners of Y/N's eyes.

Y/N widens eyes and holds his head.

"It's the first time anyone's told me that, you know?" Y/N smiles fondly.

Bakugou was baffled, and when Y/N groans in pain he looks down to see blood on the ground, coming out of Y/N's back.

How could Y/N keep smiling radiantly at a time like this.

"Y-You're bleeding." he utters the words with a little fear at the thought of having killed someone.

"Bakugou, promise me that you will never see me as weak again?"

"Y/N, get up, you're bleeding mu-" Bakugou tries to get up, taking Y/N with him, but Y/N forces him to stay on the ground, even though the boy is traumatized by the possibility of killing a classmate.

"Promise me you'll see me as an equal." Y/N reinforces desperately.

"Fuck Y/N, this isn't the time for this you could die."

"BAKUGOU, PROMISE ME YOU'LL SEE ME AS AN EQUAL!" Y/N groans loudly as she grips his collar and forces him to look at her and not the blood.

"I-I promise."

"Really? No lies?"

"Yes, dammit." he says feeling a lot of things at once.

It was at that moment that Bakugou felt that feeling of his heart beating whenever he saw Y/N it wasn't disgust or contempt, but rather love…passion.

"Thanks." Y/N smiled gratefully.

Then, ignoring the blonde's efforts, Y/N lifts her hands from Bakugou's collar, to both sides of his head, and in a quick movement, forces him to lower his head so that Y/N can place his lips in his.

Y/N had nothing more to lose anyway.

Y/N thought that Bakugou wouldn't like what Y/N did, I mean, it was Bakugou, but to the poor student's absolute surprise, Bakugou grabbed Y/N's head as well and desperately returned the kiss.

Y/N opens the eyes in total shock, and sees Bakugou with his eyes closed, and… to put a teenager in even more shock, Y/N sees tears….tears not so hidden in his eyes.

It could have been the rain, but Y/N knew that wasn't the case.

Especially when I felt the bitter taste of his tears through the kiss, both from Bakugou and Y/N.

That moment was just Bakugou, Y/N, and the middle piece of shards of glass that had been thrown after the dorm kitchen glass shattered.

For some reason, the alarm that should have been on and activated at the exact moment the glass broke, had not once been heard in the air.

Was the alarm also broken, like the heater in Y/N's room?

Well that only the director knew.

But there was only one thing Bakugou and Y/N knew that no one else in the world knew.

They were kissing in the middle of the melancholy early morning rain.

The two students, hopelessly in love, wanted to stop the kiss due to lack of oxygen.

However, Bakugou was too confused if emotional because he just didn't notice earlier the crush he had for Y/N.

And Y/N was too tired to fight the drowsiness and weakness that the shard of glass in her internal organs was causing, just making the most of the taste of Bakugou's lips, saliva, tongue. To Y/N's surprise, even his sweat smelled good, like roses. Bakugou was truly a dream, where Y/N could only enjoy it in the afterlife…

She fought too long.

Y/N had lost herself/himself to depression, and even though she/him saw Bakugou now as an eminent salvation, Y/N knew that both of them were too chaotic for each other, and even though Y/N loved him dearly, Y/N couldn't stand the boy's narcissistic and explosive temper.

But, after all, Y/N knew that she would rather die facing someone Y/N's really liked than looking terrified at her brother's face.

Y/N, had fought too hard, the battle scars and self-inflicted cuts were proof of that.

And now Y/N knew it was the perfect time to rest forever and get her/him reward for the effort had put in until that day.

Y/N was happy, after all Y/N was in the arms of the person only dreamed of hugging in her dreams.

Dawn itself, the moon and the rain were the observer's only witnesses, almost like proof that this really happened and that now only Bakugou remembers…

Only him…

[cricketcat9]

Babcia's technical adventures!

I wanted to have my friend Emily's miso soup for lunch. Gas stove sputtering, no more gas. Checking the gas tank, exchanging for a full one (schlepping the full tank, heavy AF*! for about 35 meters). Same result. Some *technical* thinking... Checking the burners, they are fine. Dragging the stove out, checking the gas pipe, fine. Unscrewing the gas valves from the kitchen tank, and the water heater tank -about 35 meters apart. Exchanging the.valves. Pushing the stove back into its place; stove works. The kitchen tank's valve obviouly broken, water heater, of course, "sin gas" now. Seems that my two other tanks are rather empty, schlepping them back about 35m. Running to the ferretería ( hardware store) tomorrow morning, no shower, for the new valve, calling the gas guy, hoping 🙏 he works Saturdays, or no hot water until Monday. ..

All this for your soup, Emily! 🥺

All of you dreaming about a cozy cottage, how about cooking and heating? Wood stove? Is there electricity in your dream cottage? A kerosene lamp? Just curious...