#APPARENTLY THERE IS A HEATWAVE TODAY

[sockdooe]

My god heart stopper is so goooodddddd

I’ve watched it twice which isn’t a lot but STILLLL

ITS SO SWEETTTTTT AND SAPPPYYY AND GAYYYYY

[whyeverr]

The bees are happy, the corn is almost as tall as Cherry, and the whole world is abuzz bright and early—it's going to be a hot one.

[cartoon-goon02]

i upload in the middle of the night

[0zzysaurus]

its that time of the year again when the fandom starts having the dumbest drama on the planet 😭 be warned, any reasonable takes will get you thrown in the oubliette

[artcalledtattoo]

100 F Hot Think cool, the rain this morning blown in from north not good that’s evaporated glacier You shouldn’t be out, stay indoors If not keeping cool at home, mostly all businesses a/c-ed, large conglomerates, libraries are always cooled and it’s cool to read, support a museum, hang out in a mall or whatever else can be added 100 degrees f-ing hot Drink water, not water added into things Real H2O , two hydrogen atoms uno oxygen atom, it makes the Water Drink it, ample & sunscreen yourselves in shade and actually wait minutes before walking into the sun and reapply in shade and wait for your skin, it’s all in the directions, for the correct procedure If outside. Be cool, not a heat casualty 100 degrees f-big hot weather Weather person blaming the sun How dare you, disregard your provided ozone, but you carry a degree and get paid Weather person paid to predict Like a psychic, no, they went college Well, for free from me Its gonna be hot today 100FHOT

[hannie-dul-set]

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS [6].

SYNOPSIS. wherein your friend offers a room for you to crash in while your dorm is being renovated, but fails to mention that your new housemates don’t know how to talk to women (oh, and they also have an ongoing bet about you, too).

PAIRINGS. choi soobin, choi beomgyu, lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, park sunghoon x female! reader. GENRE. housemates! au, rom-com, sitcom, reverse harem time baby. WARNINGS. almost drowning, a nauseating amount of stupidity, swearing, sex jokes, bribery, the boys are shirtless for most of the chapter. WORD COUNT. 5.2k.

TAGLIST. @cerealdreamwriter @tyongff-ff @dinonuguaegi @certifiedmoa @blueberrgyuu0 @primantha @blu3bell4 @nunugget @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @captivq @tocupid @seosalad @ddazed-lhs @gyuszie @mifuyuyo @error-cant-function @twocupsofsuga @flowerbe0m @dangerousconnoisseurbanana @laviesm @keikeu @elavin @chaemmie @rikisly @satsuri3su @gyugyubin @junhuicosmo @skzenhalove @luvkpopp @yansbolobao @emer-syn @eggomi @drunkinjake @soobiverse @deobitifull @haechanspudu @yawnzzn27 @7myoi @toothfa-1-ry @imsiriuslyreal @maimoirs @whippedforbeomgyu

NOTE. this is my favorite chapter so far i think i peaked here. the ppt scene was inspired by anthpo, my professors' tendency to use the socratic method to instill trauma in their students, and hoshi from seventeen's tiger agenda. also, most of this was written before i found out odi has passed 😔 fly high little guy.

MASTERLIST | NEXT >

CHAPTER 6 — the obligatory pool episode.

THERE’S A HEATWAVE IN TOWN. When you wake up, it feels like you got transported into Satan’s rectum. It’s sweaty and disgusting under your covers, and kicking them off does nothing to appease the hellish humidity inside your room. But when you roll over to grab the remote for the air conditioning, blindly press on the button, nothing happens.

You try again.

It’s not working.

You jolt up from your bed, hair a mess, and armpits too sweaty for comfort. A power outage. Of course, there’d be no power on the hottest day of the year.

“Fucking shit, I’m so hot,” you announce as you make your arrival downstairs. It’s only Sunghoon and Jay in the living room. They turn away from their game of jenga upon your arrival.

“Yeah, you’re super hot,” says Jay. “I mean, damn global warming sure sucks, huh?”

The wooden tower collapses. You stifle out a grunt of agreement. “Apparently some feeders in the neighborhood broke down,” Sunghoon informs you. “They’re still fixing it. The generator also wasn’t working when Heeseung hyung went down the basement to turn it on. I think we need to get that fixed too.”

Well, shit. That’s not good news. You give Sunghoon a pat on the head for speaking thirty-six words to you today before walking over to the kitchen. Last time you checked, there was a stash of popsicles in there. You’re pretty sure they haven’t been completely water-fied by the blackout yet.

For some reason, upon nearing the kitchen island, the fridge door is hanging open. You understand why when you step on something— er, someone— on the way towards your frozen delight. “Ow!” Beomgyu hisses from the floor. There’s remnants of cold wind filtering out from the refrigerator. Beomgyu has claimed it as his territory, and he’s glaring up at you from his spot. “Watch where you’re going.”

“‘Scuse me.”

You walk over him, hiking one leg across his torso before infringing upon his fridge monopoly to grab a half-melted melon bar. This isn’t exactly how Beomgyu imagined how it’d be like to be in between your legs. “I’m not sure if you’re dense or if you just don’t give a fuck,” he says, propping himself up by the elbows as you dig through a plastic bag.

“I really just don’t don’t give a fuck.” You snap a bite out of the pale green popsicle. “Want one?”

“Give.”

“Go get one yourself.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to.” You close the fridge door shut and make sure to kick his side with your foot when you cross over him again. He lets out a cry of pain. You turn back, satisfied with your cold exploits, but there is no wall separating the living room and the kitchen, so Sunghoon and Jay were witnesses to that entire conversation. “Do you also want a bite?” you ask. Their ears burn a couple degrees brighter before declining.

Was that an intentional insinuation? Yes. Do you enjoy destroying their composure on purpose? Also yes. It’s a new hobby you picked up since staying here, and it’s definitely one you’ll miss once your dorms get fixed and you’d have to move out. Jay and Jake are both particularly difficult to get through, but sometimes you can manage to fluster the former, just like now. Jake has been impossible so far. You’ll get him one day. He can’t be left unscathed.

This may seem terrible, and sometimes you do get a teensy bit conscientious when one of them starts crying or becomes temporarily incapacitated— until you remember they have this whole secret bet going on that definitely involves you, so you should be allowed to fuck around this much, right?

“Hey! Why don’t we have a pool party?”

The genius idea comes from Jake. You immediately run up back to your room upon hearing the suggestion to change into a bathing suit, pausing right before your door because you don’t want anyone waving the PD&J at your face for indecent attire again. So you throw on a beach kimono for the safety of your wallet. They emptied the jar out yesterday to buy some meat for a barbecue party that’s supposed to be scheduled this weekend, but looks like you’re gonna be having that sweet, sweet pork belly tonight right by the chlorine scent of the pool. 

You hurry downstairs, so fucking ready to be submerged in cool, refreshing water. But when you get to the courtyard— all the boys already loitering in and around the pool— you realize something. 

Something a little dangerous.

“You’re finally here!”

Oh no. They’re hot.

“We’re playing chicken fight, come jo—”

A rather scantily clad Sunghoon pushes an equally scantily clad Jake off Soobin’s unclothed shoulders and into the splash of the water. They are all bare-skinned, glistening wet, and although it’s not a bad sight to behold at all, it’s a discovery that you wish had remained undiscovered until you finally leave this damned house.

Listen. It’s not like you’ve never seen any of them shirtless or almost naked before. Jay was literally in his highlighter underwear when you first met him. But you were never put in a situation where you’re able to look at them closely because all those times have been meshed with something stupid.

It’s very easy to overlook their general attractiveness when they all act like third-graders, bitchless losers, scandalized Victorian men, or all of the above at the same time, in the same sequence. It’s really easy to forget that.

But Heeseung has his soaked tank top sticking to his skin and Beomgyu is pushing his wet hair back with a wide grin. Your housemates might actually be a tad bit more attractive than your prolonged, initial impression of them. This can cause a little internal trouble.

“Why aren’t you getting in the water?”

Soobin is the one that’s asking, having already left the water fight in the middle and is now looking up at you, chest deep near the pool’s edge. You look down. You’re not sure if he’s looking directly at you because you’re a little focused on his toned arms resting above the ledge, but if he is, then good on him for keeping up with his eye-contact practice hours.

“Hey,” you call out, crouching down and hugging your knees. “Do you work out?”

Silence. Pink scatters across Soobin’s cheeks. He coughs out an unintelligible response and disappears back under the water, quietly swimming away. Yes. This is how it should be.

Feeling a lot more at ease after confirming you still have the upper hand, you finally dip your legs into the pool and stretch out your back with a satisfied groan. Fuck, this is perfect. You’re honestly unsure how you’re supposed to transition back into life at the dorms when this house has a perfectly refreshing pool at your disposal. You don’t remember what life was like before this. You’d live here for the rest of your life if you could. But you have enough pride in your system to prevent you from extending your verbal contract with Jake. Two months. It’s a few days past the halfway point now. All you could do is enjoy this life of comfort as much as you can.

Until it gets ripped away from you in the form of Jake yanking your ankle and dragging you under the water with a horrifying splash. 

Before you know it, you’re gasping for air and grabbing the nearest thing your arms could reach out for so you don’t fucking drown— but when you finally manage to rise back to the surface, a loud inhale of air into your lungs, the person you managed to hold onto just happens to be Heeseung.

Heeseung, who’s looking down at you with wide, alarmed eyes while you’re wrapped around his waist. Heeseung, who shoves you back into the water out of panic and shock and whatever the fuck his problem is.

Jake rushes to pull you back up. Heeseung is dead to you.

“I’m sorry.”

He failed to kill you so he’s now down on his knees, timid palms on his lap, and head lowered in guilt.

“I am very sorry,” Heeseung repeats. “I am deeply reflecting on my actions.”

You’re sitting on the half log shaped chairs on the courtyard, still wet, arms and legs both crossed in petulance as Sunghoon quietly dries your hair with a towel from behind (no, you didn’t scare him into doing this). 

“Stand up.” He flinches at the tone of your voice. “Go get yourself dried up so we can finally start the barbecue.”

He’s awfully obedient. You watch as his slumped figure trudges back into the house. “Was that too much?” The back of your head hits Sunghoon’s bare stomach when you try to look at him. He’s holding your head in his hands with the damp towel in between.

“You’re always a little much,” he mumbles.

“Is that a bad or good thing?”

Sunghoon ponders for a moment, staring at your upside down face. “More is always better than less?”

You smile, snatching the towel from his hands and jumping off from your seat. “Good answer.” Two gentle pats of praise on his cheek set his skin on fire. Speaking of fire, you can already smell the scent of smoke and deliciously cooking meat wafting in the air, so you run over to Jay who’s on grilling duty, hoping to get an early bite.

“Can you pass me a plate?” he asks, flipping the cut up pieces of meat on the barbecue grill. “Thanks.”

“Gimme one.” You open your mouth, chasing after the slice of pork belly on his tongs until he brings it closer to your mouth for you to bite. “Holy shit,” you muffle out, hot air escaping from your lips.

“Good?” he asks.

“Very good.” You swallow the piece. “One more?”

He lets you snack on a bunch of well-done beef before they could reach the plate and at some point he mentions, as you’re tearing open a few packs of ramyeon to cook, that you look a lot like the curled up pieces of shrimp he’s currently grilling. You narrow your eyes at him, hand dangerously hovering above boiling water with a square of raw noodles. “Are you trying to say I look charred and have a terrible posture?”

“No.” Jay raises a piece of shrimp in the air, showing it off to you. “Doesn’t it look cute?”

Now that you’re looking at it a little closer, it does look kind of cute. Huh. “Would you eat me if I was a grilled shrimp?”

Jay thinks about it. He keeps thinking until you start smelling something burning. “I’d keep you safe in my pantry,” he finally answers. 

“So you’ll just let me spoil over and die?”

His expression drops. “Fuck.” The shrimp is unsalvageable. “I guess I’d have to eat you.”

The rest of dinner goes on as you expect. Jay and Beomgyu take turns over the grill until Jake thought he’d be naturally gifted over the fire and ended up making charcoal with the last pack of galbi (“It’s fine!” he said. “I’ll take care of it!”) and today’s heatwave suddenly becomes a whole lot hotter with the rising flame on the fucking grill right when Soobin brings out the marshmallows for dessert. It gets quickly defused by a fire-hydrant bearing Heeseung. Now your charcoal galbi has toxic frosting on them. This is the sign to move on to the next part of the program.

The set of log-themed chairs on the courtyard has a bonfire set-up at the center. Of course this unreasonably nice house has that. It’s already getting dark, ink seeping into the orange tintent sky. Jake decides to redeem himself after watching Heeseung fail to set up the chunks of wood for the nth time. “You don’t know how to start a fire? Dude, that’s so lame.” 

“You burnt all our remaining meat with those fire starting skills of yours,” Heeseung huffs, stepping aside for the self-proclaimed camping expert.

“You still ate them.” You’re pretty sure that isn’t healthy.

“Because you would’ve felt sad if I didn’t.”

“You’re both equally lame,” Beomgyu chides, plopping down beside you with a bag of chips that you unceremoniously dig your hand into. “You two haven’t even had your solo chapters yet.”

A flame erupts on the bonfire. Both of them turn to look at Beomgyu. “What?”

“What are we arguing about?” Jay joins in, looking a little too excited for the squabble.

“About the fact that I’m cooler than both Heeseung and Jake.”

Heeseung’s expression falls flat. “You dropped out to become a streamer.”

“Leave of absence! I took a leave of absence and I’m coming back next year!”

Sunghoon and Soobin are both just ignoring the mess, roasting their skewered marshmallows on the bonfire and you aspire to be that level of unbothered. “Let’s consult a professional’s opinion,” Jay suggests, and all their eyes immediately fall on you. “Who do you think is the coolest?” Apparently that professional is you.

“This is like asking which dwarf is the tallest midget,” you wrinkle your nose. “But alright. Why don’t we settle this like real men?”

“Arm wrestling?” Sunghoon jumps in.

“Cooking contest?” Heeseung pitches.

“Do you want us to beat the shit out of each other right now?” Jake’s eyes fly wide open, alarmed. “I don’t think that’s a healthy way of settling arguments.”

“The fuck? No,” you spit out. “Thirty minutes. Prepare a powerpoint presentation explaining why you’re the coolest loser. Convince me. Ten slides max. Good luck.”

Something about almost naked men scattered around your home premises, aggressively typing on their keyboards with so much concentration and determination is so funny. You’re enjoying the raw bag of marshmallows by yourself beside the fire, watching as Heeseung starts panicking when you yell out “Five minutes left!” and starts typing even more aggressively. It’s pretty entertaining. Why haven’t you done this before?

At some point Jake brings out a projector and a projector screen to the courtyard. Seems like the power is back on, and your classroom of death has been set in place.

“Okay. Who wants to go first?”

You’ve produced a clipboard while they were working very hard on the PPTs earlier, legs crossed, fire crackling in front of you, and you click the butt of your pen in intermittent seconds as you scroll your eyes from left to right across the six boys standing in front of you. Heeseung looks confident. Jay and Beomgyu, too. There’s sweat dripping down Sunghoon’s forehead and Jake is furiously flipping through his notepad like he’s cramming for a final exam. But the poor, unfortunate soul that just had to look away from your gaze is none other than—

“Choi Soobin.” He flinches, nearly letting go of the laptop he has clutched against his chest. “Give it a go. The rest of you sit down.”

He looks rattled. “I’m not— I’m not really good at presentations,” Soobin chokes out, and the rest disappear from his side.

You let your chin rest on your knuckles, leaning forward. “Are you forfeiting? Is this a forfeit I’m hearing?” He doesn’t respond. You sigh. “Choi Soobin, are you settling with a D? A tiny, miniscule, measly D?” Beomgyu lets out a snort. You shoot him a sharp stare. “The other Choi, please shut the fuck up unless you want me docking points from you. Choi number one, please start your presentation.

Beomgyu straightens in his seat and Soobin hesitantly clears his throat, turning towards the blank, white projector screen as he holds the clicker with a visibly shaky hand. “Good— good evening,” he starts. “My name is Choi Soobin, and today I was tasked to explain why I am the coolest housemate out of the six. The answer is I am not. I’m not very cool. But—”

When he clicks to the next slide, your clipboard clatters on the ground.

“But I do have a hedgehog, and that’s kinda cool?”

“Holy shit,” you exhale a breathy squeak, the picture of the rodent’s cute little snout occupying half of the large screen. Soobin cycles through a bunch of photos of his hedgehog and the various screams of delight you’re eliciting after each photo makes him smile a little bit more. “Look at that little guy! Oh my god. What’s his name? Where is he? Can I meet him? Please let me meet him, Soobin I am begging you, I will get on my knees for you.”

“His name is Odi and he’s currently living at my parents’ house,” he explains. “I’ll invite you sometime.”

“That’s cheating! This isn’t part of the guidelines!” Jake interrupts, pointing an accusatory finger at the photo of Soobin holding Odi in his hands. Your coos are unceasing.

Heeseung nods along. “Professor, I believe this is completely unrelated to our topic at hand.”

Soobin looks visibly offended. You straighten your expression and click your tongue. “Ahem,” you start. “As much as I believe that Odi is the darn cutest little shit to ever exist and I will die for him given the chance, Heeseung is right. Mr. Choi, I’m afraid I’d have to give you a C.”

He presses the clicker. The slide is back to the video of Odi running down a slide.

“Okay. B minus.”

Now it’s the one where he’s laying stomach-up on the floor.

“Fuck. God dammit. B plus and that’s it. Soobin, sit down. Heeseung, you’re up next.”

Soobin seems satisfied with the grade, dimples popping out with a smile as he takes Heeseung’s seat in the audience when the latter readies himself for his turn. He stifles out a cough-laugh, one corner of his mouth crookedly twitching upward, confidently sauntering up to the front with his iPad, and it’s mildly unsettling because he’s usually Nervous Boy #2. But it’s almost cheating how pretty his teeth are when he’s smiling. 

And apparently he’s aware of that fact. Because after projecting his title slide (LEE HEESEUNG 101: the anatomy of a Cool Guy™), the next thing that appears is actually a photo of his very charming smile, coupled with Chip Skylark’s “My Shiny Teeth and Me” as the background music for his scientifically-grounded explanation. The next slide is a zoom in of his eyes next to a photo of Bambi. He has a venn diagram. This is actually pretty compelling.

Heeseung is a good speaker. He’s really good. The rest of his presentation goes smoothly, finishing it up with a list of references in APA format. Jake and Jay give him a round of applause.  “If you have any questions, I’ll be more than happy to answer them,” he smiles.

“That was a fantastic presentation, Mr. Lee. I particularly liked the part when you demonstrated your ability to make very impressive, but also very alarming sounds with your fingers.” You flip through your very blank clipboard, nodding and throwing out hums at the times you deem appropriate. “I’d give you an A plus, but...I have one question for you.”

He nods. “Yes?”

“Heeseung, can you hug me?”

It evidently catches him off-guard, just as you predicted— persona of confidence crashing down like a waterfall as he stutters out, “Wh—what?”

You clear your throat. “Only cool people are able to hug me. I need to confirm that you’re cool.”

“I can hug you!” Jake declares right next to you.

You blindly reach out your arm to give him a head pat. “See. Jake says he can hug me so he must be pretty cool. Heeseung, you can do the same, can’t you?

There it is. He’s back to being nervous and you feel like your job here is done. “O–of course,” he stifles out, following it with a strained laugh of weak incredulity. “Why wouldn’t I be able to hug you?”

“Then prove it.” You stretch out your arms, ready to squeeze and be squeezed. “Give me a big ‘ol squeeze, pretty boy.”

You stay like that for ten seconds as Heeseung remains glued to his spot in front, eyes shaking and nipping at the dead skin on his lips. You let your arms fall back to your sides. “Okay. C minus. Next.” His expression quickly transforms into offense.

“I feel like this grading system is a scam.”

“No hug, no opinion. Sit your ass down,” you click your tongue, smacking him with the clipboard when he weakly trudges back and squeezes next to Beomgyu on the crowded seat to your left with the box of snacks occupying most of the fake log, even though there’s clearly enough space next to you because Jay already started walking to the front even without your instruction.

Jay does not give an introduction, only a rough clear of his throat and he opens his presentation with just a slide occupied with his face. Slide two is another picture of his face, only slightly zoomed out. The next one has the hashtag JWU. Then there’s a full body mirror selfie.

The rest of the presentation proceeds in the same manner— a wordless slideshow of what is possibly his Instagram feed and before you know it, it’s already over. “Okay,” you exhale, pressing your palms together in front of your lips. “I understand that you are indeed a very handsome individual, Mr. Park, but what does that have to do with the assigned topic?”

“The question is why I am the coolest one here,” he says. “I’m cool because I’m Jay Park.”

It falls quiet.

You finally break the silence.

“Shit, that’s a pretty compelling argument.”

“This is bullshit!” Sunghoon argues. “He didn’t even say anything! There was no discussion! He should be disqualified.”

Jay remains unfazed. He defends with irrefutable wisdom, “Sometimes pictures speak louder than words.”

“Damn.” You let your clipboard fall to your lap. “I’m giving you an A.”

“Fuck yeah.”

Your decision elicits outrage from some of your students. “How is he getting a higher grade than me?!” one of them raises.

“He’s getting a higher grade because he doesn’t think I have cooties, Heeseung.” 

Heeseung throws his arms in the air in defeated frustration as Jay takes his snug seat right next to you again, a victorious smile gracing his face. You run your eyes through your scratch paper once more, pen tapping at the edge of the board. “Beomgyu, do you want to go next?” you ask, which is a mistake on your part because he starts acting just as obnoxious as Heeseung, which— if anything— just triggers your desire to make him crumble to his knees.

He even pulls out a lecture stick, testing it out by snapping it at full length on his palm. Is the fucker trying to go after your role as professor? Where the fuck did his glasses suddenly come from?

“Alright,” Beomgyu begins, the first slide displaying the words Why Choi Beomgyu is the coolest Housemate. “First thing’s first, does anyone in the audience know what my name is?”

“Oh, me!” Jake raises his hand. “Choi Beomgyu!”

“Correct!” The next slide appears when he hits the screen with the stick, revealing his name in a large, bold font with large spaces in between each syllable. “Choi. Beom. Gyu. Choi Beomgyu. Now, I’d like to direct your attention to this specific syllable right here—” he draws a circle around ‘Beom,’ “—what does Beom mean?”

“Offense,” Sunghoon answers. Beomgyu’s face scrunches up.

“What? Fuck, no. Another meaning— oh! Yes, Soobin hyung?”

“Tiger?”

His eyes brighten. “Exactly!” 

The next slide is a photo of a tiger on a field of green grass, grooming its fur as Beomgyu passionately rattles on with fun facts about the animal. You have no idea where this is going. “Tigers are some of the most amazing creatures on the planet, they are the largest members of the cat family and are renowned for their power and strength. As the largest member of the cat family, Tigers are strong, powerful and one of nature's most feared predators—”

“Did you get that from a website?” Jay interrupts.

Beomgyu dismisses him. “Yes, I did, but that’s not the point. The point is—”

Next slide. A hit from his lecture stick. It’s more text. Beom = Tiger. Beom = Choi Beomgyu’s cute nickname. Tiger = Beomgyu. 

“We have discussed that tigers are the coolest animals in the world. My name has tiger in it. Therefore I am the coolest person here. End of presentation. Thank you.”

He drops the stick to the ground and is about to walk away with Jake’s applause, but your penetrating stare stops him right before he reaches the crackling bonfire. You scribble on the clipboard before letting it settle face-down on your lap. You look up at him. “Beomgyu, are you a furry?”

Beomgyu freezes. He lets your question settle in his system before voicing out a very loud, very crunchy, “What the fuck?”

“Is this your way of telling us that you’re a furry?” 

“No! What are you talking about?” he hisses. “I’m just saying that since tigers are cool, that means I’m also cool and—”

“So, you’re identifying with a tiger?” you cut him off.

He presses his lips together, cautious. “Yes…”

“Because you have the word tiger in your name?”

“Yes.”

“And because they’re cool?”

“Yes. We’ve established that alr—”

“Okay, so you’re a furry?”

“Ye— no!” he yells out. “I’m not a fucking furry!”

“Understood. You’re a furry in denial.” You write something down on the clipboard. Beomgyu’s shoulders slacken in defeat. “I’m giving you a B plus. Take a seat, Tigerboy.” Though he grumbles in distaste, he listens to you anyway, trudging deflatedly back to his seat next to the equally grumbly Heeseung.

There are two people left to be victimized. Jake looks excited, so you don’t want to indulge his positive emotions. “Sunghoon,” you call out with a pleasant smile. He squeezes his eyes shut and mutters something under his breath before forcing himself up the log without you having to tell him. “Good boy. Go set up your thing.”

Unlike the rest, Sunghoon doesn’t have a laptop or phone or flash drive with him when he awkwardly takes the presenter spot in front. He’s standing on the balls of his feet, arms tucked behind his back and lips tightly pressed together nervously. “Mr Park,” you pull down your clipboard. “You’re free to project your slides.”

“Well,” he coughs out. “The thing is.”

“Yes?”

He exhales loudly. “I don’t have any slides.” You raise a brow. “I don’t know how to use powerpoint.”

You look at him. “I see.”

“I don’t know how to use this projector, either.”

You pause.

“Okay. I understand.” He breathes out a sigh of relief. “Alright, next present—”

“Wait!” Sunghoon stops you. “I can still give my presentation, I don’t need any dumb slides! I’m just as cool, if not cooler than the rest of them, so you can’t just skip over me.”

“Mr. Park,” you start. “Unfortunately, one of the criteria for this presentation is the quality and organization of your slides. I do not see any slides being presented, Mr. Park. You may present next time once you’re fully prepared.”

“What about Jay?” he tries to reason. “He just showed you a preview of his camera roll!”

The man in question has his mouth hanging open, pausing in the middle of stuffing a nicely toasted marshmallow into his mouth. You let out a sigh. “He had philosophy, Mr. Park. Philosophy,” you explain. “Do you have philosophy? Are you confident that you can convince me with your words alone? Without the help of cute animals and pictures of your pretty face?”

At the mention of his face, his knitted brows of frustration quickly melt into faint pink hues dusting his cheeks. You sniffle a little, rubbing a finger under your nose as you flip through the next page of the clipboard that’s resting on your lap. “Meet me in my office after class,” you tell him. Sunghoon grunts and stomps back to his seat in defeat.

“This sucks balls.”

“You have quite a few options to pick and choose from here,” you hum. “Jake, you’re the last one up. Please tell me you have a presentation prepared.”

“I do, and it’s gonna blow your mind,” he grins.

“Looking forward to it.” You watch blankly as Jake runs up to the front to connect his laptop to the projector, an excited bounce in his every movement and you start wondering how you can shatter this one’s hopes and dreams.

He asks if he can start. You give him a nod. At the click of a button, something boomerangs into the blank screen with 2007 Windows graphics and animation. The atrocious mismatch of fonts say Jake Sim is the coolest one here and here’s why.

“Reason number one—” Jake starts his presentation, turning over to the next slide and your vision is attacked with more outdated graphics, more jarring transitions and animations. “—I’m super funny. Allow me to demonstrate.” He begins by clearing his throat. “What did the Italian chef get sent to jail for?”

“What?” you go along.

“Too much assault.”

An assault is also a very proper descriptor for his PPT aesthetic. An assault to your eyes. It’s like watching a car crash that you can’t look away from even if you try. Reason number two is that he has a great smile (he does). Reason number three is because he has a dog (he also does). Reason number four doesn’t exist because he miscounted and skipped over to Reason number five.

“And lastly, Reason number ten—”

He takes something out of his pockets. It’s a couple dozen bills being thrown into the air.

“I have a lot of money.”

The rest of the boys are quiet. Jake grows quiet too, chest rising and falling after that very enthusiastic presentation and his wide grin slowly melts into that muddled with nervousness and unease because you aren’t saying anything yet— just looking at him with stern eyes and a sharp gaze. “W-well?” he rasps. “How did I do…?”

“How much?” you ask. He cocks his head in confusion. “How much money do you have?”

“Oh.” Jake blinks, now understanding. “I don’t know but it’s a lot.”

Your eyes sparkle, posture straightening. “Will you give me some of that money?” The unease has left Jake and has now transferred to the other five boys around you. Oh boy. Oh no, their eyes all seem to be saying.

“Sure, why not.”

You clap your hands together. “Jake wins. Class dismissed. Good night.”

It doesn’t take long for chaos to break out.

Heeseung and Jay are demanding for a recount (there is nothing to count except the sweet, sweet cash you’ll be receiving) and Beomgyu accuses you of being a slave to capitalism (that should’ve been evident from how you tried to scam money out of them with nudity and a jar on your first week here). Soobin starts clearing up the projector set-up and Sunghoon is on his knees begging for another chance to do his presentation as you watch the digits on your phone screen bump up in real-time when Jake wires you a decent chunk from his bank account.

Another successful day at the residence. This heatwave is better than you thought.

HOME FOR THE BITCHLESS. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.

[twst-drabbles]

Lilia 10

Summary: You let Lilia help with a lot of things when he comes to visit your home. Not with cooking though. Never cooking.

There was a familiar tapping, well more like slapping, on your kitchen window. It didn’t scare you but it did manage to distract you enough to stop your peeling. And when the gears in your head finally started to turn from being on autopilot, you heaved a big sigh.

Behind the glass, clearly hot from being in the sun for too long, was the little bat Lilia. He perked up when he caught your attention and batted at the window with renewed vigor.

You finished the last peel before leaning towards the window. You cracked it open just enough to let Lilia in and keep most of the hot air out.

“You’re supposed to be at home,” you flatly said to a panting Lilia on your palm, “sleeping, having your little bat dreams or whatever it is that’s in your small skull.”

His wings were swinging limply, too hot to keep them on himself, but that didn’t stop Lilia from frantically licking all over your palm. Trying to get a little snack, huh? Spoiled bat brat.

You pulled out a dry cloth, soaked it a little under the sink before putting it on the counter. You laid Lilia on it and he splayed himself over it without much care in the world. You could practically see the heatwaves coming off of his body.

Today really is a hot day huh? Well, no matter. You have a meal to cook.

“Just stay there and cool down,” you patted his head, humming at Lilia’s pleasant little chitters, “and don’t try to help me.”

Oh what were you thinking, saying not to help you?

“Lilia, no,” it didn’t take long for him to cool down, and soon enough you found him shuffling around in your spice cabinet. “Put that back.”

Lilia peeked at you from behind your jar of custom hot chocolate mix. It’s not really for you to be honest, it was more for Crowley. He liked to add brandy to it, though you’ve seen him experiment with all sorts of stuff. Like using chocolate wine. Ended up too bitter for him.

It’s one of his weird habits. He always has to drink this specific drink with you in the room. He’s probably seen too many Christmas specials, even though you’re pretty sure he doesn’t celebrate it. Well, he’s easily sentimental like that.

Anyways, Lilia apparently knew better and gripped the edge with his feet. He flapped over to you, jar right over your mixing bowl.

“No, we are not adding that,” you snatched the jar from him in midair, “I know it smells nice, but no.”

You put it back and closed the cabinet. Before Lilia could dive himself into the bowl–he nearly did actually, his nose was pointed right to it–you grabbed him and lifted him to your face.

Lilia chirped as though nothing was wrong in the world, patting your face with his wings in much the same way you did him when you’re drying him off.

“Get out of the kitchen,” Lilia’s happy little mood cracked and broke. You almost felt bad, but you knew this mischief maker too well. If one is not firm with him, he will try and worm his way into getting what he wants. “You can go cry in the living room.”

And you tossed him through the doorway. This would probably give every sensible pet owner a heart-attack, you wouldn’t blame them, but Lilia is Lilia. He took flight quite gracefully and glided right over the armrest of the couch. He dug his feet into the fabric and hung upside down.

He kept his dewy eyes on you, as though you have thoroughly betrayed him and broke his old heart. Even gave the biggest of sniffles. You think there’s mucus running up his forehead. Gross.

Perhaps you should invest in getting Lilia those pretend play cooking sets? You’ve seen plenty of hot pink ones among Sam’s stock. Knowing the man, he’ll probably have some on sale by the time you go there. He always seems to know what things to make cheaper just as you get there.

You just sighed and focused right back to your meal. You haven’t lost your motivation to cook just yet.

[thewolvesof1998]

FUCK it Friday

tagged by @daffi-990 @giddyupbuck @spotsandsocks @wikiangela @loserdiaz @exhuastedpigeon @fortheloveofbuddie @callmenewbie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @watchyourbuck

Seeing as I'm going to post my Heatwave fic - even when the heat breaks I'm still yours - later today (interact with this post if you want me to tag you when it's posted!) I didn't want to post another snippet so I thought I would post 10 of my favourite use of the word FUCK in this fic (Apparently I used it 29 times in this fic- can you tell it's my favourite swear word?) without context:

...and here Eddie is lying sexualising his best friend, like a fucking creep. 

Eddie buries his head into Buck’s chest, lips latching on to the closest nipple, “f-fuck,” Buck gasps...

“Fuck,” Buck groans, “Yeah, yeah,” he nods enthusiastically, “And of course you’d be a possessive bastard.”

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie groans, his own cock throbbing at Buck’s words...

“For four months you’ve been carrying around that lube, thinking about me fucking you?” 

“But it’s really about how much you like being so fucking wet?”

...to fuck until Buck’s coming dry and crying from overstimulation...

...seconds later palm meets skin in a slap that has him hissing and fucking deeper into Buck. 

...his hips making small thrusts as if trying to fuck his come deeper despite being soft and oversensitive.

...maybe he can convince Buck to wear a bra one day while Eddie fucks them. 

Last snippet (and all the previous ones linked)

tagging: @wildlife4life ​ @eddiebabygirldiaz @disasterbuckdiaz @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @spagheddiediaz @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @malewifediaz @your-catfish-friend @ladydorian05 @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherbuckley @hoodie-buck @nmcggg @pirrusstuff @evanbegins @sammysouffle @smilingbuckley @jamespearce9-1-1 @carrierofthepaperclips @jeeyuns @thosetwofirefighters @monsterrae1

[makethiscanon]

Forgotten in the Frosted Hills: Part 1

'Post my forgotten WIPs' won out on the poll, so here's chapter one of a Krel x Fem!Reader who likes the cold fic. Sorry Skrael lovers, he does feature but isn't the pairing.

Word Count: 1750 || Rating: Teen || Warnings: Mild Threat/Violence || Tags (Chapter Specific): Plot-Focused, Reasonably Canon-Compliant, Adventure, Fantasy Realism, First Encouters, Prologue, Reader is English for Specific Arcadia Canon Purposes.

------

You didn’t mind the cold. In fact, compared to the heatwaves of summer, you absolutely adored it. People often questioned how you could stand to walk around in light dresses when everyone else wore thermals. Truth was, you liked being chilly. The bitterest winter winds were a tickle on your skin, and in the cold you finally felt like you could focus. Summer sunshine only ever brought discomfort, leaving you stranded indoors where you would not burn or melt.

People often commented on your odd preference, but you didn’t mind. Not until your oddity caught the eye of someone you wished it didn't.

It was a mid-winter afternoon in rural England. Not as cold as usual for the time of year, but certainly enough to keep most people indoors. You, however, were out on the hills. The fields were empty, cattle nestled up warm in barns some many miles away, giving you the freedom to wander at your leisure. No coat. No hat. Just a thin dress, and tights that had no other function than to hide the imperfections of your legs.

You were strolling the hillsides, trying your best to locate an unusual tree-stump that had caused a ruckus at school today. Apparently, it had appeared out of nowhere, but looked like an ancient throne. You didn’t know if you believed the rumour, but it never hurt to check on days like today. It was too cold for anyone else to be out, meaning you could make a fool of yourself if the rumour turned out to be fake, and no one would know.

It was odd, actually. The past few days, you’d almost been certain someone was watching you. With fields stretching on for miles out here, though, there was nowhere for someone to hide.

You walked on, wondering if the colder bite to the air was just your imagination. But as you carried on, you began to notice frost speckling the grass underfoot. Your breath turned to white clouds. You smiled. You hoped that meant snow.

When you reached the peak of the hill, you stilled. Beyond, the land fell into a shallow crater, sloped on every side. It was a natural phenomenon, though the people from town often said it had ties to the Fae. You usually scoffed at such stories, and had wandered here plenty to know that wasn’t true.

But this time the crater – and the crater, alone – was white. Not with snow. With frost. And there, in the saddle between the four hillsides stood the throne, its dark wood standing out against the icy ground.

You edged down the slope to get a closer look, watching your footing as the frost turned thicker. With every few steps, the air grew colder. Alarmingly so. You’d never felt it so clearly before. It was fresh and invigorating, and you were sure any other person would have turned back with frostbite by now.

You felt eyes on you as you descended into the crater. When you were almost close enough to touch the throne, you stopped. The hairs along your arms and neck were prickling. You scanned the hilltops for signs of a lurker, but no one was there. But there had to be. You could feel them.

After a moment, you turned your attention back to the throne. Now that you were close, you could see the intricate carvings in the wood. They looked old. You’d walked this part of the hills many times before. A tree-throne this worn, it should have been here for decades, but you had never seen it before.

Being a reluctant skeptic, you hoped this was proof enough of something more than human. You wanted to believe. Perhaps now you could.

Figuring you needed to give it a once over to make sure it wasn’t some artsy installation, you ran your hands along the bark, then froze as a humourless chuckle carried on the wind.

“Don’t you feel it?”

Someone was behind you. You turned to look, but found no one there. Yet the hairs on the back of your neck still prickled.

“You aren’t like the others.”

This time, the voice sounded more concrete. Not something you could so easily dismiss.

You turned to look at the throne once more, coming face to face with a being that was as ancient as time itself. Your breath caught. You were too surprised to move.

He looked thin, with skin as blue as frost, eyes as black and as bright as the night sky, and was wrapped in a shroud with the skull of some ancient horned being adorning his head. It was not in his face that you saw his age, for his façade looked no older than you, but as soon as you laid eyes upon him, you felt your own mortality, and how small it was in the presence of his eternity.

He smiled a wicked smile.

“At last, we meet in person.”

He sat in the throne, one knee hooking over its arm as he claimed it leisurely, exposing a portion of his bare leg as his shroud slipped down into his lap.

“Aren’t you… cold?” You asked. It was a strange thing to ask, out of every uncertainty running rampant in your mind, yet somehow felt the safest of many questions. Suddenly, here was a being confirming every wild story of the Fae you had ever heard. He was physical proof that there was more to the world than what it seemed. Yet you were too scared to ask about any of it.

His smile grew wider, his eyes unblinking.

“I fathom I am just as cold as you.”

You almost told him that you didn’t feel the cold, only you stopped yourself once you saw the blackened ends of his fingertips, plagued by frostbite.

He noticed what you had seen. Raising a hand to study himself, turning it this way and that, he spared it but a glance before returning attention to you in full.

“Haven’t you ever wondered why the cold doesn’t bother you? Why it is, that others must wrap themselves in layers when the temperatures plummet, and you do not?”

How did he know that?

In a blink, he was behind you. His hands found your bare arms and he trailed his fingers across your skin. They felt so incredibly, impossibly cold. But it was not uncomfortable. He mused, pressing his nose into the side of your hair, his breath against your ear.

“My touch can kill animals, and wither plants to nought. Yet, you do not flinch.”

He slipped in front of you, hovering off the ground, bringing his face close to yours. His white-blue irises were so bright they were frightening.

You felt a dread welling in your stomach, one that could not be abated as you took a step back. At last we meet in person, he had said. Who was he, this creature from whom you could feel not an ounce of kindness, yet spoke to you without malice? He was asking questions you had never pondered, making you wonder about impossibilities no human ever need wonder.

“I… like the cold.” You said after a moment, aware he was hinting at such a thing anyway. “But who are you? Why does it sound like you know me?”

You being here was coincidence, and nothing more. It was by chance you had stumbled onto him, by chance you had sought out the throne. He knew all about your preference for the cold, yet it could simply be his deduction. You had willingly wandered into the middle of a frost-patch in a dress, after all.

“I am Skrael of the North Wind,” he offered. But his next words sent a shiver down your spine. “And you are to be my bride.”

Without an ounce of humour, an ounce of leeway, his words settled over you like a chill you never thought you could experience.

“Wh-what’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, taking yet another step back. He had to be a trickster. He couldn’t really mean it. “I don’t know you.”

He glided towards you, following even as you continued to step back. You made it to the edge of the frost patch before he slipped behind you, grabbing your wrist. You span, hoping to dislodge his grip, but to your utmost horror, he was unfathomably stronger than his thin body looked.

“If you fight me, I shall make this difficult.” He warned, icy talons forming on the tips of his fingers. “You are my bride, ____, whether you like the fact, or not.”

“I can’t be.” You demanded, trying again to pull free. “You’ve got the wrong girl.”

He chuckled humourlessly.

“I would not stoop so low as to willingly put my hands on a mortal. I have studied you closely for weeks. There can be no other. You are my destined bride.”

He was insane. Bride was one thing. Destined bride was something else entirely.

“Let me go.” You demanded, using your other hand to try to pry him off. But his grip held fast. He watched your helpless struggle with clear amusement. He did not stop you. Your pathetic attempt was futile.

“Come.” He said, after tiring of your games. “I wasted enough time pursuing you. Now that I have you, the day of reckoning draws nearer.”

He floated back towards the centre of the frost patch, unfazed by your struggling. You tried to pull back, to kick your heels into the ground, but nothing stopped him. The agonisingly slow pace at which he moved only served to amp up your distress as he neared the blackened wood throne.

“Stop!” You wailed with a shriek, embedding your nails into the flesh of his hand. He stopped with a sudden jolt. You realised then that it was not the scratching, but the shriek that had faltered him. So with a deep breath, you shrieked again, hoping it would stun him.

But the only thing your cry served was to earn you a fierce slap across the cheek, and a glare that promised all hell should you do it again. The pain was excruciating. It burned and stung, and knocked your sight blind for a moment.

Skrael said nothing. With you knocked into a stupor, he pulled you to the throne and placed his hand upon the wood. In an instant, you, the throne, and even the frost vanished, leaving not a trace that they had ever existed.

------

[WRITING MASTERLIST]

[sleepy-gee]

dom Coryo and his good boy 🤭

not sure if this is snowjanus or coryo/male reader,,, so i'll do the latter because there's literally 0 gay fics with my boys lol

im thinking peacekeeper coryo (since that's the only time i can imagine him being remotely dominant tbh). he met you during his first week in 12 and he fell head over fucking heels for you.

the only problem was, he couldn't love you as openly as he would be able to with lucy gray. sexuality wasn't a problem in the capitol, but the districts? he didn't know.. and he wanted to play it safe. he couldn't risk having his reputation get any more tarnished than it already was.

so, when you two finally decided to give it a try, the first thing you made clear was that you were going to keep it secret from everyone. you felt guilty for what this would do to lucy gray when she inevitably found out, but coriolanus would simply kiss that guilt away.

you got lucky this fine morning, both conveniently having the day off. the barracks were left completely empty, and would be for at least and hour or so.

.. obviously you're taking advantage of that.

coriolanus was already half way undressed by the time the front door was shut, hard on being shown off through his thin white boxer briefs. he pinned you down against one of the bunks and kissed you like crazy, grinding himself into you, showing you just how you made him feel.

you found yourself undressed before you even knew it, flipped over onto your stomach while he prepped you with his fingers and tongue. you could feel the need radiating off of him, melting into his touch like heatwaves.

today, apparently, he was feeling nice enough to let you come from that. he barely gave you a moment to catch your breath before grabbing your hips and shoving himself into you, thrusting at a rough speed. thank god your face was buried in that pillow– sinful wasn't even the right word to use to describe the sounds you were making.

coriolanus loved to talk you through these moments, hear you agree and sob for him so easily, drunk off his cock. "takin' me so well.. god, you're good. you like being good for me?" you nodded with a whimper.

"yeah you do.. mmh–" his grip on your hips tightened, certainly enough to leave bruises. anytime you two got intimate, he'd always leave a mark on you. it was his signature.

he'd found your prostate by now and fuck, was he abusing the hell out of it. "gotta treat my boy right.. you deserve it."

and when you came for the second time, he didn't tease or edge. he gave it to you like you deserved, fucked you through it before coming himself. he cleaned you up and tucked you into bed with a kiss on your forehead. "go ahead and sleep. i'll cover for you."

[lenafromthenordiccoven]

Cool Down Time - Bob Floyd x afab!reader

(moodboard by me, Lewis Pullman pic by retosterchi, found by @up-thereinthesky, rest unsplash.com)

Title: Cool Down Time

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick (2022)

Pairing: Bob Floyd x afab!reader

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Summary: When the first actual heatwave of the year hits, you suggest a little bit of an unconventional method to cool down with your favourite aviator.

Warnings: temp play, body worship (is that warning? Idk), oral (m!receiving), light dom/sub undertones (with Bob not being the dominant one), swearing, I just want to fluster one (1) man, okay?, not proofread, we die like rebels

Wordcount: 2346

Read on ao3

A/N: My city’s got the first heatwave of the year and I’m miserable. So, naturally, had to come up with a way to distract myself. If not entirely cool down – reasons why I kept this shorter than I had originally planned. *ahem* Also, I apologise for the horrible title. I couldn’t come up with anything better xD (Also, also, I apparently like having characters beg. Oops.)

You flopped down on the couch with a groan while Bob closed the front door. You could hear him chuckle at the way you’d shed your jeans shorts and T-shirt in the hallway on the way to the living room.

“It’s too damn hot!” you grumbled into the pillow that was quickly warming to your body temperature in a failed attempt to defend your actions. Not that you really needed to. Bob was usually the last person you would have needed to explain any of your motivations to. It simply was too hot. San Diego got hit by the first heatwave of the year and you crumbled like a dried-up leaf under a magnifying glass.

“Well, you’re not gonna feel any better if you heat up that couch, darlin’,” Bob said from where he was basically towering above your head. When you shifted your head to peer up at him, your eyes followed a couple beads of sweat that trailed down the side of his neck and pooled in his jugular notch. You could feel your mind drifting to somewhere very different, but Bob’s voice pulled you back.

“Hm?” You raised an eyebrow at him, not having caught any of what he’d said. But given the way he looked at you (his head slightly cocked to the side which always reminded you of a puppy—and which you sometimes teased him for), it was clear that he’d asked you a question.

“I asked how much water you drank today.” He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for your answer. Although you were sure, he already knew it. Not enough. You never drank enough. Well, water.

“Not enough. Probably,” you replied, grumbling again this time. Because you knew what would happen next.

Bob sighed and then motioned for you to get up. “Alright, up you go. Off to the kitchen. Both of us.”

You didn’t even try to hold back the whine as you pushed yourself up and climbed off the couch. You padded after him, noting how his backpack had left a big stain of sweat on his back. You were about to reach out your hand and trace the muscles of his back that were starting to peek through the fabric stuck to his skin. But then Bob stopped in front of the fridge-freezer-combo, opened the freezer compartment to get out some ice cubes and your heat-plagued brain spit out exactly one idea.

“Actually, babe…” You began as you stepped closer to Bob, starting to snuggle up to his back. “I think, I just had an idea how we could maybe cool down a little.”

He turned around to face you, ice cube tray in hand. You reached past him to close the fridge door and then nodded towards the ice cubes. And you could have sworn his skin flushed a darker shade of pink underneath the light sunburn. “You’re not suggesting …?” He nodded towards the ice cubes and quirked an eyebrow.

“I am suggesting temp play, baby, yes.” Your lips stretched into a grin when he blinked rapidly and averted his eyes. Even after having been together for a couple years now, you still got a rise out of Bob getting shy when you suggested something new in the bedroom. Ironic, really. Considering he’d had more experience when you’d first started dating.

“I don’t really see how that could help us cool down exactly,” Bob mumbled. But you could see the mischief glinting in his eyes. After all, how could he say no to one of your suggestions if it meant, he got to worship you? If anybody would have asked Bob how deep his feelings for you ran, he would have had no qualms telling them that he would worship at the altar of you for the rest of his life. Especially if it meant he got to hear you utter his name over and over in that mixture of a scream and a sigh he always drew from you when you climaxed, and when you didn’t give a fuck about whether your neighbours heard you.

You raised an eyebrow in response to his mumbling—and the thousand-yard stare now on his face. Then you gently took the ice cube tray from his hand, before laying your now cold fingers against his cheek. He jerked in response, blinking rapidly. “Where’d you go just now, handsome?” you asked with a seemingly innocent smile. You had an inkling where his mind had wandered off to. The same path yours had when he’d first taken the ice cubes out. It made your smile widen into a grin as his gaze drifted down to your lips for a second.

He cleared his throat, then stretched out his hand for the ice cube tray. “You know, where. Let me just get something to put these ice cubes in, so they don’t go meltin’ on us before we’re done, alright?”

--

The ice cubes clinked against the glass as you fished one out, the water dripping from your fingers landed on Bob’s now naked chest and he jumped at the sensation at first. But then his body relaxed under you and his gaze locked onto yours.

“You okay?” you asked with smile tugging on your lips, anticipation making your nerves sing before either of you had even gotten very far.

Bob nodded, laid out on his back on the bed, his boxers the last remaining item of clothing on his body. “Just cold at first.”

“Shocker. This is basically ice water by now.” You leaned down until your face hovered maybe an inch above him. “Just don’t buck me off, cowboy.”

“Not makin’ any promises.”

When you gently let the first ice cube rest in his jugular notch, he jolted underneath you again, lips parted in a surprised gasp that faded into a sigh as you then let the ice cube wander up his throat just underneath his jaw. You ground your hips slightly downwards and then caught the resulting groan tumbling from his lips with your own. His hands ghosted over your panty-clad ass and up your sides where one of his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer against him.

You chuckled. “You’re gonna have to let me go if you want me to continue.”

His arm tightened around you in response as he mumbled against your lips: “Not that I’m not looking forward to where this is gonna go, but I just really like havin’ you on top of me like this, darlin’.”

You could feel heat creep up into your cheeks as his words brought up memories of countless times of when you’d had him underneath you like this, with you setting the pace for once as you rode him. “Stop trying to distract me.” You sat up as he loosened his arm around your waist and let his hands wander back to your ass. Just as he squeezed your cheeks, you slapped his chest lightly.

“Oh, am I?” His lips twisted into smug version of the lopsided, lovesick smile you usually got from him. “Sweetheart, I think, you should get another ice cube. This one’s almost gone.” You could see the mirth dancing in his blue eyes.

“Shut up, Lieutenant, and let me do this at my pace.” To ward off any attempts at a reply, you picked up the ice cube – Bob wasn’t wrong about it having almost melted away completely against his heated skin – and pushed it past his lips into his mouth. His lips closed around your fingers, he hummed as he swirled his tongue around your fingertips and then lightly bit down on them.

You swallowed hard at the sensation while your brain and heart took off at the speed of lightning and you found yourself grinding your increasingly wetter core against his clothed cock. “You gonna be a good boy and behave?” you asked before you removed your fingers from his mouth, lifted yourself up onto your knees and leaned over to fish another ice cube out of the glass.

“Yes, ma’am,” was his only response besides another hiss as you let the new ice cube circle his right nipple. Though he did whine in protest when you moved off of him to kneel beside his body on the bed. Then, ignoring the ache burning low in your lower belly at his sounds, you took the ice cube between your lips and began tracing abstract patterns onto his upper body. All the while you tried to keep eye contact, which he broke the first time you inched close to the hem of his boxers and his abs tensed underneath your touch.

Your lips twitched into a smile as he kept his eyes closed and he tried to keep his breathing under control. You slowly let one of your fingers wander along the hem of his boxers, before you tugged on them and Bob dutifully lifted his hips, so you could get them off. He’s half-hard cock slapped against his abdomen, and you watched his brows pinch as the tip landed in a drop of ice water your ice cube had left.

“Sweetheart, please.” There was no need for him to say more. You knew, he needed you to touch him. But you wanted to draw out the build-up a little more. Call it some good-natured revenge for all the times he’d riled you up and had you panting with just fleeting touches of his fingers and lips.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you, baby. Just be a good boy and keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You blinked up at him innocently, kneeling between his legs, the sight had him whining. One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek and you nuzzled into the touch, pressing a kiss to his palm.

“You’re always so good to me, Robby. Wanna do the same for you,” you whispered.

He nodded and his hand fell away from your face as you settled in between his thighs. The first gentle kiss you pressed to the inside of his thigh drew a gasp from him. When you took the ice cube from where it had been sitting in his navel and lightly ran it over the junction of his leg and torso before briefly ghosting it over his balls, you got another jolt and a louder “Fuck!” as a reward. The usually lighter blue of his eyes had turned to something darker as his lust-blown eyes stayed locked onto you as if he’d locked onto a target in the sky. Finally, you put the remainder of the ice into your mouth, let it melt on your tongue and cool it down.

One of your hands came up to grip the base of his now definitely hard cock as you licked his tip, humming at the first beads of precum you could taste. “You always taste so good, baby,” you purred.

“Could say the same thing about you. Please, sweetheart. Need your mouth on me. Please, pl—” His words got caught off by a lightly frustrated groan when you tugged on his cock but kissed his stomach instead of wrapping your lips around him.

You chuckled, then hummed while you licked the underside of his shaft from the base to the tip where you pressed another faux-innocent kiss to his cock. When you did finally wrap your lips around him and began to bob your head up and down, Bob’s face twisted in pleasure as he struggled to keep his eyes open and on you.

“Fuck. Thank you, darlin’. You’re so good to me.” You clenched your thighs together at the praise, unable to deny the effect his reactions had on your own arousal.

While you kept bobbing your head, trying to alternate between sucking him off, stroking him and licking, it didn’t take long for Bob to turn into a writhing begging mess underneath you. The ice cubes left in the glass were forgotten as you made it your mission to get him to cum in your mouth. One of his hands tangled in your hair as his hips buck upwards at an uncontrolled rhythm.

“Shit, Y/N. ‘m close, so close. Don’t stop.”

And he kept his word. A couple more bobs and a fleeting touch against his balls had him shooting off into your mouth as your name repeatedly tumbled over his lips. You swallowed everything, helped him ride out his orgasm.

His chest was heaving with every breath as he came down and relaxed underneath your touch again. You kept the kisses to his body and the touches of your fingertips light, gentle so as not to overwhelm him. His hand that was still tangled in your hair tugged lightly, signalling for you to crawl back up his body.

He pulled you down onto him and kissed you, humming contentedly as he tasted himself on your tongue. “Thank you, darlin’. That was … really fuckin’ good.” His voice was hoarse and somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped the neighbours hadn’t come home from their vacation yet. You didn’t exactly want to deal with a knock on your door right now.

You quickly left another peck against his lips, your hand resting over his heart absentmindedly tracing shapes onto his skin. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.” You smiled down at him and his lips twisted into that smug smirk again.

One of his hands came to rest on your hip while the other cradled your head—giving you no other warning when he suddenly flipped you over onto your back, so he could hover over your body. “I think, we still have some ice left in that glass of ours. Let me show you exactly how much I appreciate how well you take care of me, darlin’.”

You giggled as he stooped down to steal another kiss before fishing for an ice cube. While your activities didn’t exactly cool you down, they at least took your mind off the scorching temperatures outside for a little while. And who’s against having a little fun, really?

[clarks-letterman]

a summer's dream | peter parker x gender neutral!reader

a/n — hey y'all! found this in my drafts and since summer is coming up... (also, i haven't written rimming before sooo)

words — 1.53k (1,530)

summary — The heatwave in NYC urges you to relax in the Avenger's pool, where Peter comes out in nothing but a black tee-shirt.

warnings — smut! rimming (peter receiving), ambiguous reader (gender not specified)

~~~

The lack of a buzz grew increasingly apparent with each passing moment, a few clinks and whirs of each machine filling the what were otherwise scribblings made against every clipboard held by other researchers. Their labcoats forwent adding an extra layer to their work attire, striving to combat the sauntering journey of New York's latest heatwave. Of course, in the midst of this sultry weather and ardent state, the air-conditioner was the first to give up, its last few drawn-in breaths of the hot air outside causing it to sputter and cede to its killer. Thus, leaving the building and the ascent of its internal temperature to canicular delirium.

In the wake of all of this, you had trouble separating fact from fiction, as at one point, you could have sworn that the skin on your hands had started to bubble and boil with how superheated it was. But within seconds, it had simmered down, and your hands returned to a solid state. The budding fever urged you to the higher levels of the building, continually hearing the dreaded news ring throughout each floor that they suffered similar effects of the pullulating heat—wooziness and uncertainty running higher than the temperature ever could.

Your continuing journey to the floor above the next landed you at the highest entresol of the tower. As the elevator doors parted, you could see the sparkling blue water refract the sun's light with an unmatched chill as a few floaties gravitated toward the edge, acting as the silver lining to what was already a condensed cloud nine. It had completely slipped your mind that there was an infiltration mission today and that most—if not all—of the other members of the team would be out of the tower for days. 

It must have been the daze that this heat set in motion, but that would soon fade away once you dipped your skin in and laze in safety from the sun with the refreshing reservoir situated right outside. Hurriedly, you paced to your room, digging out a pair of swim trunks before using the single piece of clothing to replace the rest of your outfit.

You strode out of the room and straight to the platform outside, the cool water embracing your skin as you took a seat on one of the steps descending to the bottom of the tiled floor. For a few moments, it was tranquil; the water only rippled when you let it and the city traffic coming from far below felt like a lifetime away. And there was a sense of comfort with a guard rail composed of solely glass and vibranium that was sure to catch anyone before plummeting to uncertain doom.

That was until one sole spider-boy stumbled out onto the deck, a black tee-shirt covering his upper body while nothing appeared to conceal the lower half. Everything leading up to his mid-thigh was visible to anyone watching, and the arachnid himself couldn't seem to care less. 

The light pitter of his steps didn't phase you, but the splash of water that hit your body did. You looked over to see that Peter had flopped squarely onto one of the larger floaties in the pool, the airbed slowly moving towards the center of the natatorium as it reverberated his motions. As Peter coasted further away from the pool's edge, he neared the center, bringing with him the sight of something sweet. Peter's shirt faltered to drape over his lower half efficiently, the black cloth running just short of the rise from the small of his back to the two perfectly shaped mounds on his backside. They were perky and reflected how you expected them to look from the way they always filled out his khakis and denim pants.

As innocent as he looked lying there, an undercurrent of biting temptation subtly rippled through the air. Sure, Peter had been a bit more flirty recently, but he had never given any indication that he would do something this bold. Yet, he was this bold, facing away from you as his thumbs twiddled away at a pocketable device, his ass silently begging for the same attention that the front end of him was getting.

You chose to move towards him, making purposely loud splashes in the pool as you approached him to make him aware of your presence as if his spider senses wouldn't have already alerted him. After all, there was the slim chance that he hadn't even noticed you as you were sitting off to the side of the pool, keeping to yourself like how you did at most of the superheroes' pool parties. That would explain the sudden behavioral change, too. 

But, nothing came from him. And as you rested against the inflatable bed that managed to support the both of you, the arachnid finally let the tension run through him. Peter was betting on your reaction, he wanted you to take the bait, and here you were: wading through the water like a hungry shark. All of the uncertainty phased out of him the second he felt your hands on his ass, and he knew his plan had worked. His length stiffened between the malleable plastic of the pool floaty and his stomach in a fearful eagerness of the aftermath of his plan.

His cheeks molded to your hands like two lumps of workable, limber dough, filling the space between your fingers as they dug into his backside. With his surprisingly soft mounds of muscle and fat conforming to your hands, you parted them to unearth the strawberry-pink ring, taut and wrinkled. 

Your first move was to mark the area with a glob of spit before running the tip of one of your fingers over the hole, drawing circles around it and watching it quiver under your touch. Peter may have supplied the bait that lured you in, but you were controlling the line as he reeled you towards your desires. He sunk his face into his crossed arms that laid over the supple comfort of soft plastic and vinyl, already letting out a muffled noise akin to a moan. It was laughable at how juxtaposed he was to the way he was acting mere minutes ago, with his lower half and blase attitude about it simultaneously on display.

Peter let your desires rise to the surface as you chose to indulge yourself in his ass, sinking your head lower until you could catch hints of his musk—a fragrant mix of clean and natural scents with a tinge of chlorine wafting into your nose as one. You lavished at the smell growing stronger until your face pressed into the unfurled crack spread by your hands, laying a kiss on the pink pucker as your nose pushed into the northern end of his crevasse. His hole refused to give way to your tongue at the first attempt to penetrate the ring of sensitive nerves, urging you to pull back and do a bit more work with your vernacular muscle.

You took a broad lick between Peter's crack to tease him and his hole. Your tongue practically melded to Peter’s ass, almost like a heated spoon working through a pint of ice cream. Though what had presented itself was substantially better than any ice cream, this was a summer's dream, a perfect way to fend off the heat and delve into a world of passion. And after the first wide stroke, you traced his hole with the apex of your tongue, letting the warm and wet touch dance in circles over his pink ring. 

Then, you jabbed your tongue at his hole, letting it sink into his ribbed heat. Peter buried his face into the plastic of the pool floaty, raising his hips to let your tongue go as deep as possible while your face went further between his asscrack. He had enough of the teasing and was ready to achieve his high with the man of his dreams.

Peter immediately rocked his hips back with desperation, letting the fabric of the black tee-shirt give enough friction to let out a load of creamy white coating the inside of his black shirt. His release was world-shaking, literally. He gripped the malleable plastic he rested on, feeling his hand slide across it from a bit of pool water splashed onto the floaty. Peter lost his grip on the inflatable pool toy, and his hand skated forward, knocking his phone into the water below him. He went to catch it, but it was already at the bottom of the pool once he realized what had happened.

Your tongue felt the reaction of his opposite end as the high of his climax and ensuing panic of dropping his phone in the pool. His walls tightened around your tongue before being pulled out as he lurched forward. Peter muttered something in defeat while he moved back onto the safety of his floaty. It was nice to know that this confident move hadn't changed who he was on the inside; he was still that clumsy nerd you loved.

You laughed as the Peter Parker you knew shone through at that moment, "I was that good, huh?"

[hussyknee]

Slept late today and was quite worried because the terrors hadn't woken me up at the ass crack of dawn to demand their breakfast. Neither did they seem that enthused when I set their kibble out two hours later than usual. Moo and Méka just about managed to finish theirs, but Mau left his half-eaten, a true sign of the endtimes. He drank down half their water bowl and went to nap quietly instead of following me around lodging his usual morning list of strident and mysterious complaints that had accumulated in the night. Méka and Moo also meandered around looking lethargic and kind of...hungover.

We're in the middle of a heatwave with real feel temperatures of nearly 40°C (104 F). I've left their water bowls full and within reach and they never go in the sun, but I still spent an hour googling overheating symptoms in cats and why they would be thirstier than usual. According to the internet, they have intestinal parasites, kidney disease and multiple organ failure.

Came down to forage for a late breakfast, still debating whether to call the vet, to find the housekeeper in high dudgeon. Apparently the little demons had gotten into the pantry before she'd woken up. They had discovered our tom cat's half-full bucket of adult kibble, overturned it, and gorged themselves on the contents. There had only been a handful left by the time she finally found them. And they still had room for breakfast! Except for Mau, who obviously couldn't physically stomach any more food because he's the most gluttonous of the greedy-guts and probably polished off the lion's share by himself.

Small mercy they didn't throw up in the house. Probably did in the garden. They're presently curled up dozing like crocodiles after swallowing a wholeass water buffalo. Just try yowling for food today, assholes.

[izayoizuki]

Mine To Keep Ch. 1

Masterlist // AO3 // The Receipts Universe

Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x F!Mitchell!Reader

Summary:

As Hangman's translator on a world tour, you and him get along fabulously. Maybe a bit too fabulously. So you decide to get married. Only problem? Oh, there isn't just one... romantic relationships between navy employees are forbidden, both you and Hangman have enough baggage to fill the cargo hold of the titanic, not to mention the whole thing with Hangman and your dad... But men like Jake don't come along too often- in fact, they haven't come along at all, so this relationship is gonna end only when it's pried out of your cold, dead hands.

Aka The one where I play necromancer on Goose and Carole, while having a slowburn friends to lovers with Hangman. (The tags are more detailed on AO3 I swear)

Chapter 1: Cinderella Walks Into A Bar

You sat at the bar nursing a coke, taking in all the revelry around you, letting it divert your thought process. You were your own ride. It was an odd place to be, honestly. Your friends were scattered all over the globe, just a message away, but you couldn't whine to them about this. It reeked of begging to have the smallest violin in the world played for you, but your feelings were your feelings. Your dad was a great dad, in all honesty, maybe a bit too great. Maybe if he hadn't allowed you to have your own thoughts and ideas. Maybe if he hadn't encouraged you to go to the best universities on his dime. Maybe if he himself was less than the excessively accomplished and principled man he was. Maybe if he hadn't always been there for you. Maybe then, it would all be easier. But the if and sos were wishes and horses, and your fight still rang in your ears.

"But I don't want a job in the military, Dad!"

"It would be the Navy!"

"It doesn't matter! I cannot be a part of it! Part of any armed forces!"

"So you're ashamed of your old man? Is that it, sweetheart? Well, we're living in the real world. Look at your age. Do you think you are where you need to be? Or do you think these little jobs of yours, stuck on the internet the whole day, are all that's left of life?"

You hadn't been able to answer him, and even more frustratingly, tears had started pooled in your eyes. So you'd left.

That had been a couple of hours back, judging by the lights. Now the place was crawling with navyfolk, and there was a cheerful buzz around you. A little to your right were the pool tables, and the boys in brown were running games, alongside their mouth.

"Hey, Hangman!" A particularly obnoxious voice called out.

"Yeller, as I live and breathe." The replying voice sounded like lying back on a summer afternoon with a sweating coke bottle to your neck, like the sun setting like molasses in the sky, like a heatwave after the rain.

"You still takin' bets?" Your ears perked up; where was this going?

"Sure, what you have in mind?"

"Take a girl out, tabs on me." You tensed, peripherally you could see that the guy you pegged for Yeller was picking you from the herd. You could not live through this middle school shit again, especially not today.

"Not those kinds of bets, son." Came the laughing reply. You could hear the undercurrent of firmness though, alongside disgust, and you cheered. Maybe bullies could change. But these details apparently sailed right over Yeller's peanut-sized brain.

"C'mon, you're no fun," Yeller wheedled, but Hangman was firm.

"We can do pool, or darts, I'll let you pick, bud."

"Pussy." Yeller moved away having the last word, and you were surprised that no one made a move in the tense atmosphere, fully expecting a brawl. But apparently Yeller's voice was his own worst enemy, because he'd wanted his parting shot loud enough for everyone to overhear. And everyone had. Penny started ringing the bell, and a huge cheer went up.

Someone clapped Yeller on the shoulder. "Thanks, man."

"What the hell?" Yeller demanded, but Penny simply pointed to the board. "Lady, I *am* the navy," he yelled, but Penny just shrugged and gave him an enigmatic smile.

And in all that noise, someone snuck up behind you, snaking their arm around your neck in what would have been a chokehold, had there been any pressure applied. "Heya Squirt!"

You twisted your head around. "Rooster!" You twisted around, throwing an arm around his neck. "When did you get back?"

"Just this afternoon. And I come back to find that the sun's gonna rise from the west tomorrow. You and Unca never fight. What happened?" Rooster had a smile on his face, but his voice was quiet and his eyes concerned.

"I don't know. Kinda don't wanna talk about it just yet."

"You two are a pair, you know that? He was giving my dad just about your answer, word for word?"

"Yeah? And he drowning his frustration in a coke too?"

That got a chuckle out of Rooster. "Nah, him and dad are taking their bikes out, I think. You know what that means, right?" He waggled his eyebrows, and you giggled.

"Yeah, they're gonna come home tomorrow morning with a new story to add to their repertoire."

"Don't you just know it. Speaking of stories- did you notice what a smooth segue that was?- speaking of stories-, you wanna come 'round later tonight and tell me yours? Mom's gonna be making cookies."

"I'll see how I'm feeling," you answered back honestly, and he searched your eyes. Satisfied with what he saw, he slid off his barstool.

"C'mon, I'll introduce you to some friends of mine." He tagged your arm and dragged you over to the piano, taking you over to a group who could have had day jobs as models; they probably appeared on navy brochures. "Folks, this is my sister." He pushed you in front of him. "Trouble, this is Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy." Phoenix pulled you in for a hug, Bob and Fanboy shook your hand, and Payback clinked his drink to yours, being further away.

"There's more to our group," Phoenix kept you close to her, waving vaguely with her free hand "Hangman, Omaha, Halo, Fritz, Harvard and Yale." she recited, "They're scattered around, you'll meet 'em sooner or later. More to the point," she focused on Rooster, "you had a sister and you kept her away from me? When you know that it's only Halo and me around here?" Her indignant look put a smile to your face even as you rose to Rooster's defence.

"Well, I haven't been round in a while-" you started, but by this time Rooster had grown bored of the whole conversation and pulled the plug on the jukebox, and grabbing you under the arms in one fluid motion, lifted you up with a very vocal grunt, before depositing you on top of the piano, so that you had to sit criss cross applesauce to avoid setting your feet on the keys.

"Grunting is rude, Brad Brad," you used the nickname he hated as you swatted him on the arm.

"I call 'em as I see 'em" he retorted, before setting his fingers to the keys. You could see him getting into the zone, as he liked to call it, his fingers tinkling the keys. And as always, you goaded him on.

You knew what was coming, the family tradition, reason no. 1 why both your houses had pianos even though they were right next to each other. The Family Tradition, right up there with New Year's and Birthdays.

"Get on with it Brad Brad!" You yelled, and he gave you a wolfish smile before he threw his head back, veins on his neck prominent, fingers launching seamlessly into a pattern, as he howled

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain!"

"Too much love drives a man insane!" You howled right back.

"You broke my will!" He peeked over his sunglasses at you.

"But what a thrill!" You leaned forward, bawling in his face.

"Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!" He did his broken-voiced yodel, so like his dad, and everyone joined in, yelling the words more than singing them, and from then on it was an all out screamfest. You laughed and sang right along, following Rooster seamlessly into whatever merry song he led everyone, from The Lion Sleeps Tonight to Hunka Burnin’ Love, getting up and even doing a little shuffling dance, till you were nearly hoarse.

It was hours later when you all stopped, even though it was still earlier than expected, and Rooster grabbed you off your perch. "You want a ride?" He asked, still grinning from the high of the impromptu sing-along. "I've got my bronco out."

"Nah, I rode here," you grinned right back at him.

"Your call, but remember, Mom's cookies, ok?" He hauled you in for a quick one armed hug before letting you go and walking out.

"'kay!" You nodded, waving him goodbye before making your way to the till to settle your bill. You leaned against the bar, waiting patiently, when you felt someone lean in behind you.

"Come here often, sweetheart?" It was Sugarpie in August, and you fairly whipped your head around.

And were struck immediately by his looks. Voices didn't always match features, but his did. He was a golden boy, kissed by the gods, and you were going to blame this fact for the sentence you vomited next.

"Thought you weren't into those kindsa bets?"

"Didn't tag you as an eavesdropper, pretty lady."

You snorted a very unpretty and unladylike snort, "It's hardly eavesdropping when you're two feet behind me in a public area."

"Fair enough." His smile was so smooth, oil would be ashamed, and somehow his overt flirting was putting you at ease. The fella was playacting a role.

"Still didn't answer my question." Two could play the game.

"Is it against the law to talk to a pretty lady at a bar?" You both were moving up the line.

"Uh huh, they passed that law last Tuesday," you informed him blithely as you got up to the till. "Hi Penny! Could I settle my tab?"

Penny smiled at you, "Your "tab"," she air-quoted, "of *one* *coke* was on Yeller."

"Thanks Penny!", you leaned over to give her a kiss on her cheek. You moved out of line as Hangman came up to bat, and he was torn between paying up and speaking to you.

"Hey, hang on! Do you have plans?"

"Yup," you popped your "p", "My Godmother's waiting up for me." You started moving to the door. "Night!" you threw back.

"Not good night?"

"Don't know you that well."

"Yet! Don't know me that well yet! Will I see you again?" He called out, but you were too far gone for him to hear any answer. You strapped on your helmet and straddled your bike, allowing yourself one last look in before you sped off.

Which is why you didn't hear or see Hangman as he whispered "Oh, shit."

Tagging: @imjess-themess @therebeccaw @blue-aconite

[dragonsgirl572]

Kade: Heatwave, did you see the news? Apparently, some dumbass tried to fight a squid at the aquarium today.

(head to toe in ink) Well, maybe the squid was being a dick.

for SURE something heatwave would do. man's just got anger issues that if this wasn't a kids show, he could compete with bakugo-

[chrkrose]

A Brazilian fan DIED at Taylor’s concert today. People will focus on the heatwave and indeed it was what caused her death (apparently thermal sensation reached 60°C inside the venue), but we need to talk about these greedy ass companies who organize these big concerts who DONT GIVE A FLYING FUCK to people and are willing to KILL THEM just so they can gain more money. The company forbid fans from entering the venue with water bottles just so they could force people to buy water inside the venue (for a fucking insane price). FUCK THESE GREEDY ASS COMPANIES.

People BE SAFE. No artist is worth your life if you realize that the venue isn’t safe.

RIP Ana Benevides.