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mapofthesea · 2 years

Text

forward!jimin x social media manager!fem!reader

hockey!au

genre: smut, fluff, porn with a hint of plot!

word count: 5.8k

summary: star forward Park Jimin is not only good at the game of hockey, but the game of life. He’s rarely faced with adversity and enjoys the perks of being admired by millions of fans between his sporting and modeling endeavors. To you, he’s nothing but a massive thorn in your side: a reminder of your past life as a puck bunny and your biggest challenge in landing your next promotion. He’s damn lucky he’s handsome.

warnings: arguing, tension from past relationship (they were never Together but they did fuck), swearing, jimin is a smug little shit, jimin with a lip piercing (!!!), hockey talk but no actual game time action, they have Feelings for each other, kind of enemies to lovers but lowkey, specific smut warnings include: penetrative unprotected sex (don’t do this irl!), dom!jimin x sub!reader, slightly bratty reader, degradation (he calls her a slut, she likes it though) and praise, making out/sloppy kissing, fingering (f receiving) oral (f receiving), handjob, hair pulling, hickeys/marking, multiple orgasms, coming inside, slight overstimulation, aftercare ofc

a/n: as always my work is not proof read or edited so there may be some mistakes! Also this is clearly smut so please do not go below the cut if you’re under 18 or uncomfortable with the content noted above. Happy reading!

The warmth of the hotel sheets engulfs you, the expensive feeling silk rubbing gently against your freshly washed skin. You barely know what time it is, but the sleep weighing down your eyelids negates any logic.

An involuntary sigh passes your lips as you feel your spine decompress from the cramped position you had to assume on the plane ride here. Your phone vibrates on the beside table but you skillfully ignore it, snuggling further into the comforter. A sweet lull of sleep starts to envelope you- and then your phone vibrates again. Once, twice, three times, and then the barrage of texts turns into a full blown call, rattling your phone violently.

"Fuck, what?" You yell, throwing the covers off and snatch the phone off of the bedside table. The brightness makes you squint, answering the call without seeing who it is.

"Hello?"

"Oh Thank God, Y/N. I need you to-" the sound of your boss's voice sends anger through your veins. It was his idea for you to travel to this tournament, and now he has the audacity to call you after working hours?

"No, please, Ken. It's late and I'm tired. Whatever the issue is it can wait until the morning."

"It really can't, Y/N. I need you to go talk to Park. Now." You still, heart hammering at the name. You can't imagine what the fuck he would need at this hour, but you're not a babysitter and you certainly aren't giving up your rest for him.

"No, I'm just here to do media for the games. It's not my problem if he needs a handler tonight." Ken sighs and the tension is palpable through the phone line. The silence buzzes through you like a live wire.

"If you don't go talk to him now, your job is gonna be a lot harder than it needs to be in the morning. Please, Y/N. I need someone with boots on the ground to help me. If you get it solved I'll fast track your application for the promotion." Ken's offer hangs over your head. Fuck this capitalist system and the fact that whoever takes the promotion is based more on connection than talent. As much as you despise having to continue to climb the ladder after years of hard work in college and the office, the perks of better health insurance glimmer in your mind.

"Okay, fine. I'm going." Anxiety spikes in your chest as Ken thanks you and hangs up. You vividly remember the last time you were one on one with Park Jimin, and the thought makes your cheeks flame. Suddenly your breezy pajamas feel too warm, and the slightly damp strands of your hair at the nape of your neck itch.

When you started your career in sports media, you never saw yourself working for the same hockey team he plays for. You always saw it as a near impossibility when you moved away from your hometown for the degree- but the universe works in weird and cruel ways that happen to force you into close quarters with a whole gaggle of professional hockey players. You really tried your very hardest to avoid interacting with any of the players on the team outside of working hours, not just Jimin. Although several of them had also flew in today and settled in the same hotel, you made sure to book with a separate airline and get a hotel room on a separate floor. You had no interest in mixing your business with your personal life; it’s nothing but an irresponsible risk.

But here you are now, embarrassing yourself by applying a fresh layer of deodorant before you leave your hotel room. The lavish hallways are luckily empty, and the cool elevator shaft eases the heat crawling up your neck. It’s incredibly nerve-wracking to imagine why you needed to have this intervention, and the idea of how he may answer the door makes you dizzy.

Maybe he’d injured himself? But surely you wouldn’t be the one called to his room in that case. There was always the possibility that he did something to cause a media storm- got into a fight, was spotted robbing a store, maybe it was reported that he did cocaine in a bathroom- but it had only been a few hours since their plane landed, so would he have had time for any of that? And wouldn't covering up a personal blunder be up to his personal manager, not you? Your palms slick with sweat at the possibilities of the mess you’re going to find behind his door.

You hover outside it, staring at the gold plated numbers illuminated by the nearby sconces. It's oddly intimidating to know he's just on the other side of the door; living and breathing and simply existing- perhaps making some kind of erroneous mistake that could ruin his career or basking in the aftermath of that. The wood of the door feels thick and expensive under your fingers as you knock, and it’s so feeble that you can almost guarantee he didn’t hear it. You swear and try again, knocking harder despite your shaking knuckles.

“Coming!” His voice sounds light and airy but it makes lead drop through your stomach. The urge to run away overtakes you and just as you make the decision that no, this isn’t worth the possibility of a promotion, the door swings open.

Park Jimin has no right looking this handsome at whatever ungodly hour you had knocked on his door. His black hair is mussed at the back of his head as if he had just been laying in bed. The softness of his hair is almost enough to weaken you, but the familiar narrowed cut of his eyes runs ice through you. Heat blooms in your cheeks as you blush and internally chastise yourself for the stupid reaction; you were here for a professional reason, so why the fuck was your heart hammering in your chest at a million miles an hour?

"What can I do for you, Y/N?" Jimin's silky voice filters through your hazy mind and you startle, shaking your head to clear the suffocation surrounding you. Alarm bells ring at the familiar cadence of his voice, the way he perfectly crafts the syllables that make up your name.

"Um, I-" your eyes flit around his face; the tempting golden sheen of his skin under the gold casted hallway lighting, the fullness of his cheeks and his pretty lashes and the silver gleam of his lip-ring...

"What the fuck is that?" You practically yell, pulled out of your reverence at his handsomeness as the lip ring registers. It's a bold silver curve, resting temptingly in the middle of his plush bottom lip. It shines as if tempting you to look closer, to touch it, to feel it. Your stomach stirs at the fleeting thought of how the cold metal would pull an addicting contrast between the heated press of his lips.

"This?" He licks at the metal with his tongue and you suddenly feel the need to take a seat. "Got it a while ago, honestly. Off season stuff." He waves his hand nonchalantly as if you'd asked him if he wanted chocolate or vanilla cake. "You like it?" He arches a perfectly shaped brow and leans casually on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. He's small and lithe for a hockey player, but you know that he has intimidating strength corded through his arms and the stamina to match.

Dumbly, you nod at his question. You like it a lot. Jimin lets out a heady laugh and you can only imagine how fucking stupid you look right now; slightly damp hair and a flushed bare face, mismatched sleep socks and these stupid lamb pajamas your mom got you for Christmas. Your face blanches at the sudden realization that the shorts were certainly too small for standing in a hotel hallway under Park Jimin's gaze.

"Wait, no, I'm here because Ken told me to come down and talk to you!" You backtrack quickly, pulling at the bottom hem of your t-shirt.

"Awe, come on Y/N, you mean you didn't want to come visit me for old times sake?" His electric eyes travel your bare legs. You grit your teeth and try to find the fire of anger in your stomach-the shield that's allowed you to ward off your feelings for him for so many years- but it's been replaced by the quivering attraction that never quite left.

"N-no, Jimin." You plant your hands on your hips; hoping to instill some of the social media manager persona back into your conversation. "That thing is a liability for you, and for me, it sounds like, because Ken sent me down here to take care of it. You'll have to get rid of it. It's out of regulations for the games." Jimin blinks owlishly, as if he had never considered that the piercing would be out of regulations.

"Really?" He licks the damn piercing again and your greedy eyes soak up every part; the perfect pinkness of his tongue and the way he maneuvers it around the metal in a tantalizing circle that's much too familiar. Your stomach simmers with arousal.

"Fuck, Jimin, yes. It really is out of regulations, and I would assume Ken saw some picture of you with it, and he's pissed and made it my problem because he isn't here yet. So please, for me, take it out for the games." When is this guy ever going to give you a break? You spent your entire teenage years pining for him and half of your college visits home tangled in his bedsheets, and now as a full fledged adult you're begging him to get his shit together so you can get considered for a promotion. "Please, Jimin, can you just do this one thing for me?" The exasperation of the night makes your voice whiny even to your own ears, and you can practically see Jimin's ears perk at the sound. A cheeky grin overtakes his features.

"If I remember correctly, I've done lots of things for you." You don't miss the shift in his voice; the darkened tone that haunted your dreams for months after you vowed to never speak to him again. Suddenly your throat feels dry and you choke on your rebuttal as he takes a confident stride into the hallway. You can smell the clean linen of his cologne and you instinctively close your eyes and take an inhale. Your nose flares and you swallow your impure thoughts.

"Listen." You poke a finger into his chest and immediately regret it; the firmness of his well toned muscles rejecting your jab. "Come on, Jimin. I'm begging you."

His chest shudders under your finger, and he's so close you can feel the exhale of his breath against your hair. You're frozen as he moves, clasping one of your shoulders with strong fingers. His grip makes your skin tingle as he lowers himself to match your stare.

"I seem to remember you being much better at begging, Y/N. Hmm? Want to try that again?"

Arousal lights your veins and your brain whirs into overdrive, screaming at you to follow the animal instinct clawing inside your gut. Unbidden flashes of your past with Jimin run through your mind: the grip of his hands on your plush hips as he drives himself into you, the paths of bruised kisses he left on your tits after hours of teasing them, the reddened claw marks you left on the bronzed skin of his back.

The current of dominance in his words sparks something dormant inside of you; the slumbering brattiness that you had converted into tenacity reborn. You surge up against him, closing the gap with a bruising kiss. He stumbles slightly in surprise but easily recovers, capturing you around the waist as you devour his mouth. The cool metal of the lip ring is just as addicting as you imagined it to be, wedged between the unending warmth of his plush lips. It's fucking addicting to be kissing him again as he pulls you against the hard planes of his body. There's no hesitation in his actions as he shoves his tongue into your mouth and you nipples pebble in response to the liquid heat he elicits in you.

Oxygen becomes useless to you the longer you kiss him. All that matters is the connection of your bodies, the slip of your tongues against one another. Your heart stutters with yearning as Jimin helps himself to a handful of your ass cheeks and you nip at his piercing playfully. A moan reverberates through him and he uses his grip on you to pull you impossibly closer, walking your bodies backward into his hotel room.

The change of scenery shocks you enough that you finally break from the kiss, panting from the exertion. The heavy door slams shut behind you as Jimin pushes it, perhaps a bit too hard. To your wild satisfaction Jimin looks just as winded as you feel. “Fuck,” he croaks the word and you smile, unable to hold back anymore. Something in your mind loosens, and you surge forward to fumble with the tie of his sweatpants. A beautiful moan falls from his lips and for a second you’re sure that the control he never gave you had become yours: that in the years you’d been apart he had shifted into a man who let you take. After so long of playing the sexy and mysterious playboy, Jimin had finally unraveled for you.

But his sudden strength re-emerges just as you begin to wiggle the fabric down his hips, and he captures your wrists under his palm. Forcing your wandering hands away, a familiar gleam of delight at your pliancy shadows his eyes.

“Oh, little girl, you know better than that, don’t you? Or did you forget how this goes for us?” He tuts dismissively but the passion on his face makes your knees weak. “You-“ he shuffles you closer to the king sized bed, “do what I want you to, isn’t that right, Y/N?” Arrogance colors his tone, and you have half a mind to tell him to shove it, but he guides your hands back to his cock and your brain shorts.

He’s hard, twitching under your touch as he holds your hands there, controlling the pressure of your touch. From your seated position on the bed you get a glorious view of the vein in his neck throbbing, and you regret not plastering any bruises onto his neck earlier. “You always were so good with your hands, Y/N. Fuck. Used to drive me crazy thinking about your hands on my dick.” The husk of his voice makes wetness pool between your thighs. It had been so long since you heard him like this but it was just as delicious as before. The pressure he holds on your hands relinquishes but it’s clear what he expects of you so you snake your hands under the layers of fabric dutifully.

You can’t help but tease him a bit, tracing the curve of his balls through the fabric of his expensive boxers. His hips jump forward and he bites out a warning that has you eager to feel the firm hotness of his bare cock in your hand. You shift forward to pull him free, and you keen at the sight of his cock.

A thatch of welcoming dark hair at the base, the length that puts your last boyfriend to shame, the pretty red-tinged head pulsing with a pearlescent shine of precum. Suddenly, you feel extremely empty.

The seam of your pajama shorts presses right where you need it, so you settle for rubbing your thighs together subtly for now. Your hand encases his length, starting with small gentle strokes that you know are doing nothing but driving him crazy. His stomach clenches and trembles as you start pumping him faster, relishing in the little jumps of his cock as your grip gets firmer.

“Feels so good,” the praise falls from him without thought and strikes a hot iron in your stomach, thighs rubbing together without much thought. “Pretty little hand on me like that, fuckin missed that.” The haze of arousal occupies you enough that you don’t allow yourself to overthink anything: instead taking the liberty to rub your thumb firmly over the tip of his cock. The precum aids your glide but you feel a devious idea sneak up on you and you promptly lean forward to spit directly onto his cock. The sound he makes is inhumane and you adore it, gobbling up the strained whimper of your name as he grasps your hair, hard.

Pleasure shoots down your spine at his grip and he grins slyly, calculating eyes shooting down to the quivering of your thighs. You don’t cease your hands, only adding the second to cup at his balls again while he appraises you. “My pretty little slut, spitting on my cock without me even asking.” He holds your hair harder, cocking your head just enough that you can’t look away from his smoldering eyes. “Are you my pretty little slut?”

You were expecting the question: a relic of your college aged trysts, but it still bowls you over like a semi truck.

“Y-yes, Jimin. ‘M your pretty little slut.” He grins so hard that his eyes scrunch and an approving sound rolls out of him. Your pussy throbs at that, hips canting forward as you mindlessly work your hands over his cock. “Do you need some help?” The grip on your hair disappears and you immediately miss it, the sting of your scalp serving as a beautiful reminder. It takes you a minute to decipher what he means, but the way his penetrating stare flickers between your eyes and your center clues you in. The seam of your shorts had been consistently stimulating you but not nearly enough for any kind of relief: you had soaked through them and your panties while Jimin spoke to you.

You pout at him and nod even though he really didn't need more persuasion. Jimin's quick to cup your pussy in his hand, rubbing his palm over the soaked fabric. Your grip on his cock tightens at his touch and he hisses approvingly, pressing harder against your pussy. You grind your hips upward in a bid to get him closer to your clit. The dull pressure of him cupping you entirely only heightens the neediness in your veins.

"Please, Jimin," you whine and petulantly drop your hands from him when he doesn't get the hint fast enough. Jimin arches a brow at you.

"Is this the game you wanna play, Y/N?" Only now do you realize that his hand has stilled as well, the heat of his palm radiating against your wetness. You shake your head, unable to bear the idea of being denied his touch any longer. "That's what I thought," he tuts. "Now be a good girl and keep touching me, and maybe I'll return the favor."

You immediately grasp for him again, making quick work of thumbing the vein running on the underside of his cock. Jimin returns the favor by honing in on your clit through the fabric of your shorts. You work each other in a lustful tandem, sharing moans until Jimin slips his fingers underneath the soaked layers of fabric on you. The feeling of his fingers on your bare pussy sends you reeling, hands doubling their work on him as he circles your clit with a nimble index finger.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're gonna make me fucking cum," his hips stutter wildly under your grip and you smile, dopey on the satisfaction and the energy building in your core.

"Wanna make you cum," you supply, squeezing the head of his cock lightly. Jimin grunts heartily, head tipping back against his shoulders and you know you have him right there. Triumph squeezes your heart as you make quick deliberate strokes across his cock.

You hear him cum before you feel it, the beautiful tone of his voice husked with arousal. His hips stutter and buck against your hand as his cum paints your top and your palm, the sticky wetness oddly satisfying to your lust addled brain. A laugh of disbelief leaves him as your hand finally loosens. His own hand comes back to life and you gasp; surprised by his renewed energy so soon after coming.

His chest heaves as he bares down over you, leaning your body back onto the plush mattress. His eyes skate down to the mess he made of your shirt and a devious smirk decorates his face.

"Hmm, maybe we should get you out of this messy shirt?" His voice is invariably playful again and you can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you.

"Oh, I guess if you insist..." you bat your eyes playfully as he dislodges his hand from your pussy. It leaves you feeling oddly cold, but the gentle tug at the bottom of your shirt distracts you.

"Can I?" The sheepish look on his face stuns you. After everything that had happened tonight, and all of the times he had taken the liberty of stripping you naked before, you're surprised to see the hesitation on his face.

"Yes, Jimin, if you're sure." You cup his face gently, thumbing the delicate metal of his lip ring. He nips at your fingertip and laves at the spot with his sinful tongue. The flush that stains your face is blocked by the fabric of your shirt as he shucks it off; and Jimin's gaze finds your tits immediately.

"So pretty," he pinches a nipple in reverence. "I missed these tits, Y/N. Missed you." You can't be sure if he meant to admit the last part, but hope strikes your heart regardless. He squishes your tits together and jiggles them, and for a second he's transformed back to the boyish college freshman he was when you first started to hook up; high on his new career as an athlete and the fame that came with it.

His tongue laves across the curves of your breasts, biting a bruise into the supple flesh right above your nipple. The pain transforms into arousal in a second, and your hips buck against him in silent question.

"Oh, can't have just half the outfit on, can we?" He dances his calloused fingers along the waistband of your tiny shorts before yanking them clean off, underwear easily going along with them. The rush of cool air that meets your pussy raises goosebumps along your skin.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll get you nice and warmed up again." Jimin cracks a feline smile and settles comfortably on his knees before parting your thighs. Wetness slicks between them and he hums in satisfaction.

His long hair tickles your legs and you already feel so overwhelmed that by the time he puts his mouth on you, your back is arching toward the ceiling. He presses a kiss to your pussy and the cold sting of his lip ring brings tears to your eyes. Jimin parts your lips with his fingers and allows himself to feast, licking you so thoroughly that you think this must be a holy experience.

Surely this is what divine intervention feels like: Park Jimin feasting on your pussy like a man starved, circling your clit with his tongue and teasing your throbbing entrance with his deft fingers. Your body is honed into every move he makes, and each twitch of his tongue and push of his fingers brings you closer to the sweet, blinding edge. Your hips squirm at the overwhelming sensations and Jimin nips at your clit in retaliation, throwing a strong arm over your lower stomach. Effectively holding you in place, he redoubles his efforts and slides two fingers home, stretching your walls at the same time he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks.

The hot wetness of your arousal, his mouth, the slip of his tongue against you, and the shockingly chilled press of that god damn lip ring send you into happy oblivion. An inhumane string of noises rips from your throat as you come, writhing against the sheets as white heat flashes behind your eyelids. You vaguely register Jimin's fingers pushing you through the high as he laps the last bits of arousal out of you.

"There's my pretty little slut," he purrs as you settle. Your thighs twitch as he pulls his hand away to smooth down the hairs sticking to your face. It takes you a few blinks to register the pretty grin on his face, but you return it with ease.

"Never get rid of that thing." You gesture vaguely to his mouth and a puff of laughter runs across your face. He tongues at it thoughtfully, and even though you had just come, your pussy throbs again.

"Funny, about an hour ago you were begging me to take it out."

You slap his chest noncommittally, still weakened from your explosive orgasm. Jimin pecks your forehead and you keen. A softness appears around his edges as he looks down on you; and even in your bare faced, sweaty state you feel adored.

"I missed you too," the words burst forward before you can rethink it. It'd been swimming around in your mind since you accepted your job offer and caught sight of him for the first time in years. Although neither of you were ever bold enough to make it official, there was no denying the magnetic attraction you shared.

"Fuck, I'm so glad you said that. I have so much I wanna talk to you about-" he presses another delicate kiss to the corner of your lips and you grin. "But I am so hard right now, can we please talk later?" He rolls his hips against you and the evidence is clear. Your brain blanks, replacing the fuzzy adoration with sharp, demanding need.

"Uh huh, talk later. Need you now." Jimin makes short work of his shirt at your approval. His instagram modeling presence has made you no stranger to the sight of his bared chest; but the toned muscles of his pecs and abs scramble your mind. His skin nearly twinkles under the light, and whether its a trick of your mind or the evidence of a very fancy moisturizer, you're just happy to be in his presence.

"Flip," he orders, voice devoid of the sweetness it held just moments before. A shiver wracks your spine as you follow his instructions, flipping onto your hands and knees and obediently curving your back. Jimin hums in praise and you feel renewed energy course through your veins.

He traces the curve of your ass, ghosting his touch around the sensitive skin. You can't see him but you can picture the self satisfied grin on his face as he relishes in the smooth skin. The touch of his lips against your full cheek shocks you and you rock forward into the bed. Jimin bites into the flesh firmly and you moan at the feeling of his sharp canines. You can imagine the blooming bruise that will be there by the morning, and the mere idea of the sore reminder of this night makes your core throb.

"Do you-" Jimin's words die in this throat. "Do you have any condoms?" The punch of reality has you sagging into the sheets. Of course you didn't. The last thing you expected was for this night to unfold like it did. Heavy disappointment weighs your heart.

"I didn't bring any, I haven't..." he trails off again and you wait a few breathless seconds for his words before you twist your upper body so you can see his face. His cheeks are flushed a rosy red that's so endearing your heart squeezes. If it weren't for his evident arousal you would think he had just woken up from a long, restful sleep.

"I haven't been with anyone in a while." He gives you a sheepish smile and you nod in understanding.

"Me either." The admission passes between the two of you like calm water, cooling the tension until a storm whips up in Jimin's eyes. His cocky grin returns as he palms himself.

"I'm clean, are you?" You nod, body reacting to his insinuation before your mind can fully catch up.

"I'm on the pill," you breathe the words as if you can't believe them, and Jimin looks absolutely ravenous. He runs two thick fingers up your pussy, gathering the heady arousal that already has you slippery and stretched for him.

"Gonna let me get in you raw, huh?" He shuffles forward until you can feel the tip of his cock pressed against your folds. He holds his cock against you with his thumb as he glides, careful not to enter you prematurely.

"If I woulda known all it took was a few years apart..." you huff a rueful laugh that transforms into a moan as he slips the head of his cock into you.

"Oh fuck-" Jimin wastes no time in sliding in until he is seated fully inside of you. Your walls pulse around him and you can feel drool pooling in your mouth. He takes a handful of each of your asscheeks and pulls your body against his own, a little experiment to see just how greedy your pussy is for him.

An obscene squelch sounds between your bodies and it only spurs Jimin into further action.

"Fucking perfect little ass and pussy swallowing me up." Jimin moves impossibly fast, taking care to sheath his entire cock inside of you hard before pulling out. Your finger nails rake through the comforter as the waves of pleasure ripple through you. Jimin's body encases your own, trapping you under the strength of his muscles and heat of his sweaty skin. With his chest pressed to your back, his cock drives into you at a brand new angle that makes your toes curl with delight. Jimin's sinful lips find a home at the juncture of your neck and he seems more than happy to decorate you with hickeys to match the one on your ass. The addicting drag of his cock pairs with the tickling cold of his lip ring each time his mouth lands on you, and the sensory overload has your stomach clenching.

You have completely lost control of your mouth and allowed the animalistic sector of your brain to take over as Jimin fucks you stupid. His own incoherent grunts vibrate against your neck in fragments. "Pretty...good little slut...fuck..."

Your eyes roll as he slows his thrusts, aiming for the perfect spot that makes your legs jelly. It only takes him a few moments to find it, and the world quickly becomes washed with tears.

You hiccup his name as he steadies a hand around your abdomen, sneakily playing with your clit.

"You gonna come for me, Y/N? Get my cock all nice and wet just like you're supposed to?" He braces his unoccupied hand overtop of you, clutching the headboard with flexing muscles. His presence is suffocating in the best possible way and you feel like you're drowning in Jimin.

"Such a perfect little pussy. So hot and wet for me all the time." His voice wavers and his thumb catches your clit just right. A dark chuckle graces your senses just as you tip into oblivion.

Your entire body contracts and shivers under him as you cum, Jimin's hips driving you forward until you collapse into the comforter in a fit of cries. It feels like you come forever, leaking waves of arousal around Jimin as his hips slap against your own.

"Good job, baby. I-I'm gonna come, you feel so good." You whine and plead for him, ready for the electric feeling of him filling you with his cum. You're still feeling shaky when he comes, driving his hips as far forward as possible as he fills you. Beautiful airy moans leave him as he grinds against you, relishing in the sloppy warmth of your mixed cum.

His hips slow their movement but his mouth never ceases, spilling praise and planting kisses along your back until he's spent. When he pulls out you instantly feel empty, whining as his cum slides out with him. Both of you are too spent to do anything about it, but Jimin watches with hooded eyes from beside you as it leaks onto the comforter. It's scary how suddenly the sleepiness hits you, and you reach near blindly for the man next to you.

You must look exhausted because he coos and pecks a kiss over your nose. "You can sleep here." You giggle and crack your eyes open and find him so close that you can see the irregularities of his teeth as he grins.

"Good, cause I'm not walkin' back to my room now. Even if I could walk, my clothes are ruined." His face flushes at the reminder of your debauchery. He licks his lips and your eyes catch on that damned lip ring again.

"You really will have to take that out for the games," you run your thumb across it again, obsessed with the feeling.

"I know," he whispers, and then his lips are ghosting over your own for permission. This kiss is nothing like the one you shared at the top of the night. It's gentle and slow and punctuated with a deep connection that runs years deep. Despite how much you had done tonight, this kiss feels the most intimate of all.

No more words need to be exchanged as he helps you sit up and walks you to the bathroom with some pajamas from his bag. He patiently waits outside as you pee-both of you agreeing that you weren't quite ready to be that available with one another- and he lends you a bit of his face wash in earnest.

The comforter is stripped from the bed by the time you're back, and he's pulled the extra pillows from the linen closet to accommodate for you. You shuffle under the sheets and are happy to find them just as silky as your own were. Jimin slips in next to you, fully clothed again, and promptly kills the bedside lamp.

Sleepiness overtakes you almost instantly then, and it's so dark that you rely on the pattern of his breath to gauge if Jimin is still awake.

"I'm sorry if I made things weird for all that time, I- I was just scared that I would say the wrong thing." You speak to the surrounding darkness, and for a minute you think that maybe you missed the short window of opportunity. But then Jimin gives a thoughtful hum, shuffling so that he can tuck your body against his chest. His response is muffled by your hair.

"It's okay. We were young and stupid last time. I hope you'll let us try again." Your heart swells and you hum in affirmation and snuggle back against him. "Tomorrow?" You offer, the hazy edge of sleep just seconds away.

"Tomorrow." Jimin agrees before your consciousness drops easily into dreamland.

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let-us-cultivate-our-garden · 5 months

Note

I swear... Belos deserved so much more....

Lowkey...I want Odalia Blight to end up with a much better husband/business partner and being a capitalist queen. (I see her getting with either Honsou/Perturabo)

Cause here's the damn thing... Alador gets too little flack for what he did... and just cause he stood up for Odalia... he really didn't do shit. Hell... It would be better for them to cut off BOTH of her parents.

TBH, it would be funny for Luis to try and "the friendship is Magic" shit on Perturabo (who would NOT listen to any of that nonsense) or Belos somehow getting somebody like Konrad Curze and uses him to hunt down Eda. Or Lorgar getting in, KILLING Belos and making thing WORSE.

I answered a similar ask about Odalia here.

Belos definitely deserved better writing because he's the main villain yet the show did a poor job of making the coven system actually oppressive and the coven scouts are just mooks that can quit their job with zero repercussions. This just makes Belos look bad as a dictator and a villain. Plus, there's his implied backstory and narrative foil with Luz that was stripped of all nuance and ends with "you're a good person because your motives are pure and not a power-hungry meanie."

As for Odalia, she didn't need to be deep but she didn't need to be so basic either. She's largely a caricature that doesn't really have anything meaningful to say about how capitalism supports oppressive regimes but the show isn't about that. So we have the abusive mom who tries to mold her daughter into her own image. Great concept, really lazy execution, especially since once Amity meets Luz, she doesn't really struggle with the expectations of her mother with the freedom her new crush provides.

As for Alador, he was implied to be on equal footing with Odalia and on the same page as her only to be retconned as a distant father who is "redeemed" once he stands up to his wife. Guess we're not going to address those years of emotional neglect. Also, Amity for some reason gets into engineering when she never really displayed an interest in that before. So instead of becoming like her mother, she turns into her dad. Great work, team.

(Also, I don't know who those other characters are you mentioned. I don't play video games).

#the owl house #toh critical #toh criticism #amity blight #odalia blight #emperor belos #philip wittebane #alador blight #asks

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nonranghaes · 7 months

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Oooh jun(or kwan) and hating on valentines day tg? (until one of you surprises the other ofc w smt lowkey)

-🌱

ever since seungkwan first met you, he knew you absolutely hated valentines day. in your own words: "why should love have a price on it?"

which... to be honest, he couldn't really debate. he'd heard you rant at length about how you liked the aspect of it spreading love to loved ones, but hated how capitalistic it all is. it's not just spreading love, it's buying expensive jewelry or flowers or chocolates or going out to restaurants to flaunt that love and how much money someone was willing to pour into it.

"love shouldn't be like that," you had said to him while he watched you tape up hearts in the university cafe. "if you want to spend money on gifts, then fine--but it shouldn't be because capitalism makes it out that you're a bad partner if you aren't throwing money at your partner. love shouldn't have a price tag."

vernon had also heard the entire rant, nodded, and said "true."

however, it did make dating you a little... difficult for this first valentines day together. the two of you had agreed no date today: you had work, so did he, and you didn't want to fight busy restaurants if you went out. you had, however, sent seungkwan a picture of yourself and a cute heart-shaped sugar cookie earlier: the only good side of valentines day is that one of my coworkers bakes the best fucking cookies. bringing you one btw <3

which gave him an idea. an idea that involved calling up one sick kim mingyu (he only had a cold, but seungkwan knew his partner would be doting on him) and video chatting his way through a recipe. you wanted a night in? seungkwan was going to give you a night in.

"that sounds like a threat," mingyu says right before going into a coughing fit.

serves him right.

the moment you walk into his apartment, seungkwan hears you complaining about traffic, and how busy the streets are, and--

"... seungkwan, what is this?"

"heart shaped foods," he says without looking up from where he's plating heart-shaped breakfast potatoes alongside heart-shaped pancakes. "for valentines day."

"oh." you make your way into the kitchen, watching him. "did... did you make all this?"

"obviously." he's a little more curt than he means to be. "mingyu supervised over the phone. but i knew you were working late, so... i made us dinner." seungkwan turns to you. "i know you don't like valentines day, but--"

you kiss him, hands cupping his cheeks. "god, i love you. thank you, kwannie."

he stares at you. "huh?"

"i don't like valentines day, but," you squish his cheeks a little, "i love you, and i'm starving. so..." you smile. "thank you. happy valentines day, seungkwan."

he wraps his arms around you, smiling softly. "happy valentines day to you, too."

#nonranghaes.thoughts #seventeen x reader #nonranghaes.svt #svt x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen x you #svt imagine #svt x you #seventeen fluff #seventeen drabbles #seungkwan x you #seungkwan x reader #seungkwan x y/n #boo seungkwan x reader #boo seungkwan x you #boo seungkwan fluff #seungkwan fluff #nonranghaes.vday

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oddeyes588 · 22 days

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gOD I'm eating so well today... we're finally getting some good characterization for Ruri and Rin... hell, it's incredible that we're getting some characterization for them AT ALL. I'm gonna ramble about it.

Ruri. Oh Ruri... it's genuinely so funny seeing her complete contrast with Yuto and Shun, who have all the dark and broodiness that comes with being characters who've been sharpened by the harsh edges of war. Yuto is in a bit of a middle-ground compared to Shun, but Ruri sits on the complete opposite end of the spectrum to her brother.

She's very chill and sweet, in stark contrast to Shun's tendency for rage and violence. Hell, she's the only one of the Xyz Trio who ISN'T glaring constant daggers at Dennis. She's sympathetic, and this goes in line with what we already knew about her. Having received the same teachings from Yusho as Yuya, she's pacifistic and hates the violent dueling that destroyed her home, as it's not what dueling is meant to be.

While Yuto and Shun get understandably hardened in order to do what is necessary to survive, Ruri doesn't want to lose what she loved about her home, and as such tries to maintain it. It's not like she let everything that happened slide off her back, she still has fear for Academia, but she's readily sympathetic, and it's honestly very sweet to see. While Yuto and Shun are still trying to adjust into the process of healing, Ruri is ready to dive in headfirst, because that's exactly what she was waiting for the whole time.

Basically, for having seen the Horrors of War, Ruri is handling herself remarkably well.

And at last... Rin. Rin is hilarious in a few ways, but to start with a more serious note...

It truly does speak to how good of a place Heartland was versus how shit of a place the City was from the get-go, because out of the two, Rin is somehow the more traumatized one? Not that anyone can blame her, since she grew up in a Capitalist Dystopia where you can be arrested and sent to a "correctional facility" indefinitely for the crime of, uh, trespassing on the property of the rich. Oh, and at the age of 14, too! Rin is often scared and fully ready to choose violence over it. Honestly, the idea that Rin's automatic reaction to somebody lunging out at her is to drive her knee into their stomach makes way too much sense... and it really speaks as to how little brain cells Yugo has that he doesn't learn his lesson, and keeps trying to hug her out of nowhere.

But with that said... god I love Rin, actually. Despite Yugo's inability to learn why you don't suddenly glomp somebody, she's got exactly the amount of "he's an idiot, but he's MY idiot" energy that we expected... by which I mean she has an ABSURD amount of that energy. She cares about Yugo just as much as he cares about her, though she shows it via the very hilarious method of affectionately dragging him at every opportunity.

And it's actually so great. I love her. Anyways! It's also neat to see how her overall focus is actually on a much smaller scale compared to everyone else. Yuzu has—or rather, had—obviously she asks about her home, asks how the Synchro Dimension is doing... and she's happy to hear that it's finally on the right track. But while the other three girls are somewhat vested in the fate of the universe(s), the state of their home, etc... Rin seems to focus a lot harder on the fact that she missed the Friendship Cup on account of being kidnapped at the time.

And while yes, there's a hint of tragedy to that considering that the losers of that particular tournament are all sent to an underground work facility to be worked until they die...

...her being lowkey SUPER competitive is a delight.

#anyways ramble over #arc v #ygo arc v #yugioh #yugioh arc v #duel links #yugioh duel links #duel links arc v #ruri kurosaki #rin arc v #serena arc v #yugo arc v #yuto arc v #yuya sakaki #dennis macfield

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sepublic · 10 months

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Furthermore, Belos is the type of colonizer who loathes a culture, but also feels entitled to it and is pissed off when it doesn’t bend over backwards to his demands. He wanted the glyphs of the Titan but he refused to respect her and her people, her body, her customs, and opted to take it by force; A method needlessly more complicated, difficult, and arduous than just humbling himself and learning on someone else’s terms.

So to see some people have the fucking gall to treat Belos’ seizure of what is essentially a native resource as some W over that mean and unsuccessful Titan, disparage Luz as ‘not working’ for the glyphs like he did (ignoring how this brown girl actually put in the work of adapting to another culture), and unironically praise his ‘protestant work ethic’ is just… racist! It’s racist!!!

It’s buying into the conservative strong man myth that Belos got where he did ‘by the grit of his own teeth’, when really he lied to and cheated people who actually put in effort and suffered the consequences for him; He stood on people’s shoulders without consent and attributed their sacrifices as his own like so many American Dream capitalists, instead of appreciating and reciprocating others’ help the way Luz did. It’s buying into the idea that Belos’ atrocities can be overlooked for the sake of admiring how he ‘got things done’, because that’s just the price of success!!! Like I dunno maybe we shouldn’t even jokingly praise a character for being a colonizing thief, a swindling capitalist in all but name.

This reminds me of that time I saw someone’s Road to El Dorado AU where Philip plays the role of one of the white Spanish dudes. Like are you fucking for real. You saw a genocidal white colonizer who impersonates a local religion he has no real understanding over to manipulate the natives for his own selfish ends and you actually said, “Okay but what if we treated it as a cute and good thing this time? What if we treated his blatant disinterest in everything that isn’t seizing the natives’ resources as a teehee trait???” I don’t care if Philip is chill and doesn’t murder people in this version of events. Y’all are just being lowkey, if not outright, racist.

Belos is an effective satire of right-wing conservatives and radicalized white supremacists, genocidal colonizers who bastardize and appropriate cultures, “pull yourself up by your bootstraps” success stories, entitled abusers with all their excuses, and Christian self-flagellation and savior complexes. Dana based him off of televangelists, cult leaders, and her own conservative relatives. And yet so many people willingly ignore the whole point of Belos’ narrative and themes to reduce him to just “Caleb’s moody brother” or some sadboi victim of religious trauma, as if Philip didn't willingly embrace Puritan ideology regardless of whatever drawbacks it may have had, because it ultimately promised superiority…

And with the AUs that strip Belos of everything that makes him Belos for the sake of some feel-good story that undermines the show’s themes and does his victims dirty, that isn’t even an alternate version that’s just a completely different, made-up guy with none of the depth. How’s he going to learn his lesson in a redemption fic if the first thing the writer does is undo the curse to restore Philip's White Man status that he so obsessively clung onto, and lost for that very reason? How is he going to learn his lesson if the writer can't seem to properly comprehend what exactly he did wrong and the actual reasons for it???

#the owl house #emperor belos #philip wittebane #fandom racism #white favoritism #vent #rant

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amymbona · 2 months

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Criminal x detective au with a famous killer Patrick Zweig who's lowkey a Robin Hood kinda guy, stealing from the bad giving to the good, only killing capitalists and abusers and all the bad men. He's never been caught, a sly fox, always finding a way in and out. The whole FBI is after him, like he needs to be caught asap. But nobody seems to be getting even close to his trail.

Nobody but you. A shy but determined little detective, who has dedicated the last few years of her career to his case. You rarely ever go home to sleep, spending all the time in your office, trying to connect the hints, study his last burglaries and assassinations. He's so in your brain, completely filling your mind.

But the thing is, nobody has even seen his face before. You have some hints, that he's 6 foot 1 and has curly hair and a pointy nose, but honestly, that could be just any tall man. You're dreaming about an unknown man, a faceless entity who, for what you all know, could be a completely made up person to cover for a group of anarchists. Patrick Zweig has completely consumed your career, but your life too, and you're not only dedicated to catching him, but mainly uncovering whatever there is to be uncovered.

Until, one day, you wake up, tied to a chair and blindfolded in some cold basement, definitely not the comfort of your apartment. For long moments, you're left alone, left to ponder and trying to figure out whatever the fuck is going on. Is this some sick joke? A prank from your friends? Or have you actually been kidnapped?

Then you hear it, the door opens, and a pair of footsteps approached. "Who are you? Where am I?" you ask, but nobody responds. Instead, you feel a touch of a gloved hand on your cheek, on your shoulders, making you shiver. And you wonder, are you going to get killed today?

Not a single hair on your head is twisted, he never punches or slaps you, simply examines your face. Or so you guess, still unable to see a thing. "Finally we meet, detective." the first time he speaks, it sends shivers down your spine, the voice is low but kind of posh, very much confident, belonging to a unique individual.

Finally we meet? And who is the person standing in front of you? Is he a criminal you once wronged or a member of the sicilian mafia ordered to kill you? Unbeknownst to you, Patrick knows more about you than you know about him. He's been watching you, quite amused by your dedication. You're so different to all the other cops and detectives going after him. He can sense you want more and he's willing to give you that.

So he plays with you for a bit, giving you tricky questions and caressing your cheek with the sharp blade of his pocket knife, threatening to hurt you badly if you give him a wrong answer. He really isn't looking to hurt you duh, it's Patrick Zweig, he can't resist a tiny cut on your cheek Bone. He wipes the trail of blood with his gloved finger, licking it off and tasting the metallic leather in his mouth. Yummy.

It lasts for days, actually, at least you think so, and he's generous enough to bring you some water when he comes back. Unfortunately, you haven't earned any kind of luxury yet. It's amusing to see you struggle, to see you so afraid for your own life, and still stubborn, desiring to know more. In some sick sense, it turns the both of you on.

And finally, you guess it. The blood in your veins runs cold upon realising it is Patrick Zweig who has kidnapped you, who's holding you captive in his basement. The criminal you've been after for so many years, the man you've dedicated your whole career and life, as well, to. You should be afraid, you should be begging him to spare you and let you go. But no. You're excited.

"Be a good girl and nothing's gonna happen to you." he says, now standing behind you, his big palms planted on your trembling shoulders. "I know you want answers, so I'm gonna give you a chance to find them. But be careful, darling. One wrong move..." his hand suddenly wraps around your delicate neck, lightly squeezing it to the point when you gasp softly, eyes filling with tears under the blindfold. "One wrong move, Y/N, and I won't be able to hold back."

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noirsfantasy · 10 months

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On the fifth day of Christmas…

𝔄 𝔓𝔲𝔫𝔨 ℜ𝔬𝔠𝔨 ℭ𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 ➛ Hobie Brown x Black!Fem Reader

𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔥 ➛ Fluff

𝔴𝔬��𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱 ➛1.5K

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ➛ It’s time to decorate the tree, although it’s not going according to plan. You had the perfect idea of how a Christmas tree should look. However, your boyfriend, Hobie, had other ideas. You both begin to argue and it seems to be going no where. Words are said and feelings get hurt. Will you be able to fix this?

𝔞/𝔫 ➛ Guys, I can confirm that Hobie is just a big kid on the inside. But while some might think he’s spewing nonsense, he might actually have a point. I hope you enjoy!

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

“No, Hobes! It doesn’t go there.” I swat Hobie’s hand away from the tree as he attempts to place one of his Star Wars ornaments in the center. It's Christmas Eve and Hobie and I are facing off in front of a pile of decorations. This familiar argument about how to decorate the tree is playing out for what feels like the millionth time. My preference leans towards a more structured and organized aesthetic, while Hobie leans towards a free and chaotic approach, arguing that an orderly tree is a submission to capitalism.

“Right, how 'bout this, then?” Hobie holds up some blue tinsel, and I immediately push his hands away from the tree once again.

"I'm not putting that on the tree, Hobie. It goes gold and then red! Blue shouldn’t be anywhere near this tree." I explain while wrapping the red tinsel around the tree. Hobie rolls his eyes.

“What’s the issue? Blue’s a good color.” He throws his hands up, looking at me incredulously. Ignoring him, I continue sorting through the decorations for matching ornaments.

“Oh, so you're just gonna let the suits dictate your every move, huh? You gonna let the capitalist drones run your life?" Hobie accuses, snatching the tinsel from my hands and wrapping it the opposite way.

"Oh, don't start that, Hobie. I just want our tree to look nice and neat this year." I argue, reclaiming the tinsel and wrapping it correctly. Hobie persists, emphasizing his disdain for conforming to holiday traditions dictated by corporations.

“Yeah, you're just a conformist sheep, ain't ya? No clue what's really goin' on, just followin' the herd. Wake up, man!” He says angrily, wrapping the tinsel even more so. He looks at me as if I am completely clueless.

"Conformist to what? Santa Claus's evil agenda?" I mock, yanking the tinsel out of his hands. Hobie snickers, but he doesn’t look impressed.

“The corporations are manipulating the spirit of Christmas, so you’ll buy presents! Can’t you see that, you wanker?”

"Who gives a damn? It's Christmas for Christ's sake!" I throw my hands up and it seems our conversation is getting out of hand. Hobie scrunches up his nose as the argument escalates.

“Exactly! It’s Christmas! The day when you’re supposed to be spending time with people you love, not maxing out your credit card on useless junk. Can't blame ya, it's that corporate mind game. Same goes for Valentine's Day—just another cash grab, man!” He starts to enter into his rant about how Valentine’s Day is pointless. Ignoring his conspiracy theories, I redirect our focus.

"Don't even start! Listen, we're not putting your stupid Star Wars ornaments on the tree and that's final. Now stop arguing and hand me those angel ornaments, will you?" I huff as I hold out my hand, determined to maintain order.

“These Star Wars ornaments are rad! Come on, just a little—” Hobie protests, attempting to convince me to allow at least one Star Wars ornament. "How 'bout just the Baby Yoda? Stick it in the back, it'll be lowkey." I sigh, contemplating the idea for a moment.

"Fine, you can put it right there." I relent, pointing to the spot on the tree. Hobie's face immediately lights up when I give in and allow him to put a baby Yoda ornament up, near the back. Despite his punk rock appearance, he actually has a soft side.

"Cheers, luv," Hobie smiles at me. He quickly unwraps the baby Yoda ornament and carefully placed it where I pointed, and then steps back to admire the result. I cringe at the way it clashes with my previous work.

“So what do you think?” He asks, looking over at me. I don’t really respond, instead looking off to the side. Hobie’s smile begins to fade when he realizes that I am unimpressed by the result of his handiwork.

“What’s wrong with it?” His facial expression turns into one of confusion. “I think it turned out pretty nice,” He said, defending his choice of decoration.

"It doesn't match, Hobes. It looks out of place like I knew it would." I grumble, crossing my arms. Hobie looks at me, genuinely hurt, and his expression turns sad.

"Sorry, luv..." He apologizes, his voice soft and sincere. "I just thought it would be cool... But I guess I don't know anything about aesthetics." He puts his hands in his pockets and lowers his head. He seems genuinely upset that I didn't like his contribution. Hobie turns away from me, deflated as he walks out of the room. I feel a twinge of guilt as I turn to look back at the tree.

His shoulders are hunched up and he is obviously disappointed. As he leaves the room, he mutters, "Stupid Christmas tree..." under his breath. I can't help but feel a bit guilty as I continue to look at the tree.

I stare at it, watching the out-of-place ornament, and thinking, 'Is it really worth it?' I just made a whole argument out of something we were meant to be doing together. I'd put my need for perfection over my own boyfriend and now he's upset. And why? Because some baby Yoda ornament didn't match my idea of what a Christmas tree should look like.

It really clicks in my head. Hobie wasn't just being a nonconformist or trying to ruin the tree. He was trying to have fun with his girlfriend and decorate the tree in a way that shows both of our creativity. I sigh as I turn away from the tree and run to the kitchen to where Hobie is.

"Hobie? Babe?" I find him sitting at the kitchen table with his back towards me. He seems to be focused on something, probably sulking. I call his name again and he slowly turns to look at me.

"Yeah, luv?" He asks, trying to sound cool and nonchalant, but his hurt expression betrays him. I sit across from him and look into his eyes. He avoids my gaze. I place my hand gently on his and bite my lip as I try to find words.

"Hobie, I'm sorry." I start. Hobie feels a wave of relief wash over him when I apologize. He looks up at me and his expression softens. He's clearly still hurt, but he seems much more relaxed knowing that I still care about his feelings.

"It's alright, luv," Hobie replies, giving my hand a little squeeze as he looks into my eyes. "I might've gone a bit overboard, I get it. The Christmas vibes hit me hard, you know? Just wanted to make it extra special 'cause I know it's a big deal for you. And-" He pauses as I press my finger to his lips.

"No, Hobie, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, or tried to shut down your ideas. This isn't my home and that isn't my tree. It's our home and our tree. And it should reflect both of our creativity, not just what I think it should." Hobie's face brightens as I say that. He is a bit taken aback by my admission, but also really appreciates it. His expression turns into a smile as he stands up, pulling me with him.

"That's... really sweet, luv." He says in a soft voice and pulls me into a warm hug. "And you're right, this is our home, and it should reflect both of our tastes." He pauses and then speaks again in a more playful tone. "Even if you have bad taste."

I push away from the hug, feigning a look of offense as I playfully swat his shoulder. "I do not have bad taste!" Hobie pulls me back in and leans in to kiss my lips.

"Yes, you do. But at least you're pretty to look at." He says in a joking manner, then gives me another kiss. His lips press against mine with a tender and passionate intensity. His tongue brushes along my lips momentarily before he pulls his head back, keeping his lips close to mine.

"So, do you wanna take a break from decorating the tree and, you know...?" He trails off suggestively with a smirk and I laugh, rolling my eyes.

"Babe! We need to finish the tree!" I manage to say between giggles as I try to escape his grip. He doesn't let me pull away, instead he picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist.

"Tree's not going anywhere, luv. We can decorate it tomorrow." Hobie mumbles against my skin, kissing my neck and starts walking towards our bedroom.

"But tomorrow's Christmas!" I shout before the door slams shut.

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stopaskinf · 5 months

Text

Nostalgia

Things BTS Boys Remind me of:

Summary: ^ top explains it’s all.

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 0.8K

CW: Mentions of drinking and of being parents (reader is gender neutral), like one sentence mentioning injury in Jungkook’s

AN: I might make this a series cause I have a lot of thoughts. Enjoy 🫡

Jin:

Going on vacation:

Exploring somewhere unfamiliar, feeling the heat blaze down on you as you explore the local areas. Neither of you speaks the language well, but the friendliness shown through native people’s actions are enough to make you feel at ease. Going back to your hotel and drinking pina coladas in your bathing suits. Looking on at the parents and their kids play in the cerulean water. The image starts up conversations of your future together. Eventually, the sun vanishes and you both return to your hotel rooms to prepare for the resort party later.

Yoongi:

Fall:

Sitting outside the steps of your new home while he takes up the leaves that piled up the previous night. It’s too warm for a sweater, but the wind is too strong for you not to insist he wears a scarf. His hair is a jumbled mess, so he wears the old beanie you gave him. Besides, those kids down the block don’t need any more reasons to make fun of him. Said kids catch a glimpse of the mountainous piles he’s made and take the jump. He exasperatedly scolds them while they whine and you snicker.

Hobi:

Summer nights:

It’s too hot to sleep, so you both decided to get some ice cream and enjoy the night. The absence of the sun makes the heat bearable. You two pull up a couple of chairs from storage to sit outside. He decides the sound of screaming kids and parents talking to each other while crickets chirp a homely beat isn’t enough stimulation, so he grabs his phones and starts up his playlist. He slurps his Spider-Man ice cream as he sits next to you in his baggy shorts and slides while the fireflies buzz around you two. You suggest that you should catch a couple and keep them in a jar. Something to do with luck you say. He gives his signature cackles and agrees, but only after he’s finished his ice cream.

Namjoon:

Laying on a hammock while reading:

Spring makes for the perfect scenery. He wakes up that morning feeling refreshed, but lowkey. He grabs himself the book you bought for him recently. He heard you run on about how much you thought he would love it. Something about it exploring the philosophy of how we live our lives. How ego and capitalist greed overshadow our virtues. He steps outside the house, barefoot.You would have nagged him about it had you been awake. However, the decently sized hammock was strung up less than a couple feet away. Besides, the feeling of grass, dandelions, and the warm concrete felt nice. It comforted and grounded him. As he does with most things, he boorish throws himself onto the hammock and starts the first page. The sun blazes down on him, however its effect is lessened by the shade of the trees nearby. He’s sure you’re soon to follow him when you awake. Still, he’s more than happy to wait for you. As he always does.

Jimin:

Afternoon naps:

Nothing eases the soul better than rest. Especially after the tumultuous time you’ve both had. The soft thud the bed makes as you both hit it. The cozy feeling that settles as you nuzzle into it. Even in outside clothes, the homeliness and security still wash over. The guilt free feeling of closing your eyes slowly and falling. Of knowing that even if the time together is short, it’s wonderful.

Chasing after the ice cream truck:

The chaos of clambering limbs as you both rush inside the house. You have to find the money before he leaves. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! The signature music blares outside while children line up to the truck. The hurries rushes of “Go, go, go, go” that sours you both to fly down the steps. You probably dropped some change in your haste, but that’s a different issue. The contrast of sweat that begins to pool on yours and his submitted skin to the boxy, crescent eye smiles you both share as you finally get to the truck. Victory tastes so sweet.

Jungkook:

Playing as kids:

Roughhousing is a natural part of childhood. Ideally, your parents would have preferred if you never fought, ruined your clothes, or threw mud. However, the freeness that you two felt whenever you wrestled after the rain settled down in the afternoon? The feeling of picking up bugs and pebbles to ambush the other while they were off guard? Nothing compares to that.Expect, maybe the smaller, sweeter moments. Crying after scrapping your knee, so to comfort you, he gives you the popsicle he got from his mom. Your obsession with special rocks that he always remembers when he finds one on his way to your house. The picture worthy shot your moms got of you two laying on the floor in your pjs cuddling after failing to stay awake past your bedtimes. Nothing compares to the simple bliss of that.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 1 year

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I saw your ATSV reaction post and wanted to chime in a little about Miguel and Spiderman 2099. Because I love him but also your reaction to him is 100% correct, and I am also lowkey mad about people jumping straight to 'he did nothing wrong'-ing/fetishizing him.

Like, Miguel is trying his best (as Spiderman) but he's not a nice person! His arrogance and hot temper are major tenets of his character. His comics run is Mostly him fucking up his interpersonal relationships, finding out new horrible layers to the bad things that happen/ed to him, and then reacting poorly to those things (then dying) (he got better). I thought it was actually very fun of Sony to make him the Spider Society guy because he's the last person I would put in charge of anything. Like there's some fun commentary to be made on the fact that Miguel's canon lore also very much does not line up with the average Spiderman's backstory, while he's being written as placing himself in a position to act as arbiter-of-Spider-People, when he only Became a Spiderperson himself as part of a cascade of Reacting Poorly To Things.

(Be a corporate genetic engineer in the Horrid Capitalist Future -> trying to make A Spider-Man -> first human test goes horribly because your evil boss won't listen to you about the feasibility of your work -> try and quit via emotional outburst -> your boss gets you secretly addicted to illegal future drugs that are 100% addictive because they bond to your DNA or some nonsense -> your boss blackmails you into continuing to work on the person-melting Build-A-Spiderman genetics machine -> you decide to use the genetics machine to reset your DNA to before you were addicted to genetics-altering drugs -> your jealous co-worker sets the machine to give you 50% spider DNA instead -> you are mutated into a Horrid Spider Man -> you react to his by trying to kill yourself -> you live because your bullshit spider mutations save you -> all this and your drug addiction isn't even cured -> have the revelation that Capitalism Is Bad -> later find out your evil boss is also your dad)

It's unfortunately 100% in character for him to react to being happy and then incidentally destroying his own happiness (which, I have seen some wild takes about the whole 'replaced himself in another dimension' thing, but let's be real Miguel doesn't think he Deserves to be happy, so it was probably a BIT more complicated than him just being like 'hey free AU') by aggressively trying to police the multiverse because he's unfortunately a genius and also unfortunately just incredibly angry and aggressive and fueled by his own deep self-loathing and guilt.

Which is a long-winded way of getting around to the fact that Miguel using cult tactics on the Spiderpeople is because Miguel is using cult tactics on Himself to justify his actions (to himself) as part of (get this) a further cascade of Reacting Poorly To Things.

I'm personally still staggered by the fact that they made Miguel the Spider Society guy, like, I am really hoping this pans out in BTSV because, yes, Miguel has a storyline about messing around with the timeline, but that was Time not Dimensions, so I do want there to be a reason beyond 'who is the most maladjusted and traumatized and ill-tempered Spiderperson to be our antagonistic authority figure?'

Sorry this got long but ATSV has really unlocked new depths of hell for me in terms of 'niche comics character that doesn't get much attention now suddenly getting lots of attention'. I want to talk about my little guy but also my little guy needs to be appropriately contextualized and not belt-sanded into a dreaded fandom archetype.

god there's nothing I love more than a rant off a comic book fan whose little guy is being interpreted wrong. I spend most of my time in DC spaces so getting to reach across the aisle with empathy to a Marvel dude feels great, really bringing people together.

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bradassholemajors · 10 months

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Wtf Is Shock Treatment’s Deal? (Or, Local Critic Discovers Escapism and Having Fun In The Midst of Late Stage Capitalistic Dread)

Watched Shock Treatment for the first time this week, and I am a changed man lol. Here are some disorganized thoughts:

I think something that makes Rocky Horror so special is that it can be as deep or not-deep as you want it to be. Like, if you want to think about the cultural implications of the themes portrayed (hedonism, gay & trans liberation, gender roles, the Invasion-of-the-Body-snatchers style infiltration of outside queer forces, the downfall of the safety contained within a collective identity), you can absolutely do that! There’s so much to be interpreted there!! But if you are just here to see Tim Curry looking incredibly sexy and violently thrust along to the Time Warp at a midnight showing with a bunch of cool strangers, that is absolutely awesome, too. Slay!! Take what you want.

BUT SHOCK TREATMENT MANNNN??? Shock Treatment is a whole different ballgame lol. Like, it is also a thematically rich goldmine, if you’re willing to squint a little— in terms of content included, not necessarily how it’s portrayed within the narrative. In the words of Barry Bostwick here, “it was a statement about the future that we weren't quite ready to explore. We didn't really even have the mental emotional vocabulary to understand what Richard [O’Brien, the creator] was trying to say.” I think this is spot-fucking-on!!! It’s absolutely frighteningly prescient, especially today in terms of the commodification of mental health. Like, woah. Janet being crowned “Miss Mental Health” felt like such a Gwyneth Paltrow moment. Cultural prophet Richard O’Brien saw the dark cloud of Betterhelp and wellness culture galloping over in the horizon in the distance of the American landscape, and he set out to warn us.

I still don’t quite understand what happened in the movie. I still don’t know what my takeaway was supposed to be. And I guess if you’re a little insane and love having fun doing thematic analysis with weird media (like me), taking Shock Treatment seriously may be right for you, lol. But thematically overall I think it’s safe to say: it’s a lot less coherent than its predecessor. It’s messy. It’s not interested in being flawless. It’s not interested in appealing to an audience. It’s barely interested in being a sequel. Shock Treatment is lowkey pointing and laughing in the face of those who showed up expecting a masterpiece— which admittedly was me, because I take Rocky Horror pretty seriously. (I put off watching Shock Treatment for a while bc I wasn’t sure about how it would affect the Rocky Horror Universe I had in my head.) If not for the internet reviews prepping me, I would have walked in completely expecting another nuanced perfect symphony of a movie to measure up to Rocky Horror’s magic.

But the thing was? Watching Shock Treatment, it ended up I did not really care!!!!! I was having the time of my life!!!!!

(more under the cut whoops)

Wtf was going on!!!!!!!!!!! Who knows!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I still don’t quite know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I loved it!!!

This reaction of such joy, just letting myself vibe out made me think because when did I start getting surprised when watching a movie is more pleasurable than not??? Isn’t that the entire point of media??

I think with the modern commodification of media analysis and examining pop culture up close, I’d argue that Fun Media without a message is actually pretty hard to come by— at least in mainstream culture. Even stuff as sanitized as Disney movies are now digging into like generational trauma, appealing to what seems to be a collective search for depth (or at least the appearance of depth.) Modern neo-nazi brands of fascism wields power like never before, horrific images of violence follow everyone left and right. Sometimes it seems like this open secret, that everyone knows there’s this looming darkness at the forefront of our minds at all times.

So this transition from Rocky Horror to Shock Treatment felt actually sort of powerful to me. Rocky Horror’s generation-long reverberations of shamelessly depicting sensual revelry are so powerful; it’s bold even for today! (Of course, we all know transvestite isn’t a term commonly used today, but looking at it through the lens of its time, it becomes clear what a miracle the movie is. Knowing what it must have meant to queer people at the time it became a phenomenon— giving them a real space to be themselves in a hostile world criminalizing who they were, in a time of oppressive pressure to stay silent — that is the type of brave blatant acceptance hard to come by in any era.) Rocky Horror is something I don’t know if will ever happen again, and its sequel seems to concur.

Shock Treatment has been called a cash grab but I beg to differ. If you’ve seen it, no offense: but does this seem marketable to you??? It seems like it’s a Richard O’Brien project (already wacky) that went through several levels of development hell and heavy modifications through the creative process. Said with the utmost respect… it may have got away from them a bit. Put lovingly, Shock Treatment lowkey kinda sucks a little at times. It’s silly, it’s got a huge cast and musical fun galore. It’s serving B-movie realness. I don’t say this to bash on it, I say this with a bemused respect— I think the existence of Shock Treatment is as much a miracle as Rocky Horror (aren’t all creations???)

So in the first iteration, we have advocacy and fighting for freedom for those long silenced… but also, Shock Treatment seems to allow the creators to just let themselves have fun. Aren’t they both revolutions in their own right? Does everything have to be lasting cultural milestones or does our enjoyment matter in the moment? I’d argue we need both as human beings to thrive. It comes back to that Rocky-Horror-experience philosophy I covered where you’re taking what you feel you need most from the media you consume: a message or a celebration of just being here.

In conclusion, sometimes shit doesn’t have to be that deep. More movies should just say “fuck it, we ball” and give you the most absolutely incoherent fun time of your life. I love not taking things seriously, and I love creators willing to not take their work seriously. Perhaps Richard O’Brien also had a premonition with Shock Treatment in the sense of how he just had fun with it! Maybe we need less attempts at masterpieces and more attempts at just creation for the joy of it— or both, because joyful creation makes masterpieces!!! I’d love to see more creators of every skill level and every background, known and not known, say fuck you to capitalism and expectation and marketability and just say, we’re gonna do it anyhow, anyhow!!!

#this got away from me #just like #shock treatment #may have for #richard o brien #media studies #hey janet. i’ve got something to say #this is so incoherent but I’m okay with that ❤️ love and light ❤️❤️#written while I was so so sleep deprived pls only discuss if you are nice and kind abt it lol #love me writing a whole essay on how cool it is to not take things seriously - taking it Very Very Seriously #mamma mia #<- this is also abt her in a. way #Farley flavors call me

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