#there are a lot of fictional works I feel this way about

[fight-nights-at-freddys]

I think it's genuinely concerning how sex-negative we, as a society, are becoming. (This post brought to you by a few tweets I saw)

Does no one else think it's genuinely worrying how if you even find a fictional character attractive, you're called a gooner, or a degenerate, or some other pejorative to indicate that being sexual in any way is gross and nasty and yucky? Why does art suddenly lack artistic value because it's sexual in nature? Why are we so obsessed with associating a core feature of the human condition with shame and guilt?

Even more concerning is that it isn't just some niche little group of people on the internet, it's rampant. Every nook and cranny of the internet has these people, ready and raring to call you names if you dare speak anything slightly not-safe-for-work.

Like the people on twitter openly calling trans women degenerates and freaks for having an incest/rape kink (I've seen this one A LOT), because how can you claim to be an ally, or lgbt-friendly, or a feminist, but get mad at a woman expressing her sexuality? Why does sexuality gross you out to the point you feel the need to demean people over it?

And where does it end? Are we going to start calling women who dress a little too revealing 'sluts' again? Are we going to ban sex scenes in movies? Start preaching abstinence, say sex outside of marriage is bad, that lust is immoral, and being gay is a sin?

I'm sure that a large part of the problem is that these people are generally children, and still in the "sex is gross" phase, but I know that's not the case with all of them. I'm just worried for the future, because all the people saying these things are just reinventing conservatism under the guise of progressivism, and are (intentionally or unintentionally, I'm not sure) causing more harm than good.

I know we talk about puritanism and stuff all the time, but in my opinion, it's gotten to a point even the actual puritans didn't get to.

[cannedsandwichh]

Jayce headcanons

I need more Jayce headcanons to fuel me so here we are. some are x reader but they're all pretty random lmaooo

hear me out jayce is a really big reader- or at least he was back in his high school days. he loved to read, almost about anything. he enjoyed everything from fantasy to sci-fi, and of course about non fictional stuff too, like physics books to try to figure out more about hex tech.

i feel like he'd be the same way about movies too. like he'd looove sci-fi type movies and binge watch documentaries as well.

he'd HATE horror movies though. he'd like being jump scared, but not for two hours straight.

jayce would be a big music nerd. I will die on this hill. like, while he was working on hex tech before he met Viktor he'd always have music playing. he didn't like the silence, it messed up his thoughts.

going off that note though, he hates silence while he's working. he needs some noise, may it be you, viktor, or himself talking, he needs it to stay sane and make him feel less lonely.

I feel like the poor baby didn't have many friends going up. all the kids thought he was weird since he'd talk about magic so much. he'd always act like he didn't mind what the other kids thought but in reality it always bothered him.

btw he'd loveee thinking out loud to whomever. he wants to rant to someone about his thoughts and hex tech. he'd ramble on for hours and you can just listen to him get excited about hex tech or a new discovery he found.

that being said, if he had a romantic partner, jayce would never shut up about them. someone would bring you up in a conversation and he'd just start yapping non stop about you.

you being his partner would be a lot to him, so he'd just talk about you a lot in general.

he always will make sure his partner is safe as well. seeing his mom almost die in front of him gave him a huge fear of losing anyone close to him.

if you got hurt he'd make such a big deal about it. you could have the common cold and he'd bug you about taking you to the doctor the whole time. he'd baby you the entire time as well, nursing you back to your original health.

while we're on the topic of romantic partners I'd like to note he'd fall for just about anyone really fast. you could just look at him and the poor boy would start catching feelings. thinking 'oh, they're cute'

i know everyone says this but I'll say it again because its true, jayce is a portable heater.

he'd give the nicest, warmest cuddles. he'd definitely wanna be the little spoon though, he likes being held. but if you like being the little spoon as well, he'd be very open to take turns

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

To add onto that Malleus popularity speculation, I think another major reason why that you never mentioned is the simple fact that characters of Malleus' archetype are just more popular in general in the west amongst working age women.

There are plenty of adult novel containing male supernatural love interests. Fae and vampire romance novels are still extremely popular amongst adult readers. A Court of Thorns and Roses is technically an ADULT novel, NOT YA. Even m|m supernatural stories even fall into this category with Stolas/Blitz from Helluva Boss being an extremely popular over here. That pairing is from an adult animated show. Stolas shares a lot of similarities with Malleus.

Hell, even if you step into western contemporary romance novels, the male love interest tends to be more brooding and angsty with flawed leads. Everything from classic literature like Jane Eyre to modern shit like anything Colleen Hoover writes. (Don't get it twisted. I'm NOT saying that Malleus is anything like those leads. Just using those very popular example of brooding bad boy love interests in adult contemporary fiction in the west.)

Meanwhile in East Asia, those sorts of leads tend to be geared towards teenagers. Working age women want a more stable, realistic love interest that would take care of them like Trey.

Westerners seem to prefer more complex, intense romantic relationships, where the stakes feel higher and the emotional payoff is more significant. They will naturally write Trey off as a "big brother" character instead of seeing him as a romantic lead material thanks to being more used to seeing characters like Malleus as the love interest in stories.

I could be way off base, since I'm not Asian and far from being an expert on Japanese culture, but that's my two cents based on my observations. This is also based on broad generalizations. Neither culture is a monolith.

[Referencing this post and (more specifically!) my speculation here!]

Oh, for sure 💀 I made a post a while ago talking about how Malleus (especially from the yumejoshi/self-shipping perspective) reminds me a lot of the new "Shadow Daddy" archetype that has emerged in the romantasy genre. I mean, just look at how many of the Shadow Daddy traits Malleus ticks off:

is a nonhuman being (usually fae)

500 yrs old (or at least several hundred years old or a significant age gap between the Shadow Daddy love interest and typically female main character)

looks young and hot/conventionally attractive despite the age

is OP (usually with shadow/night/darkness related magic)

is royalty or in some kind of position of power

dark hair and/or skin (sometimes both)

“morally grey” and/or has issues (you can fix him)

brooding

looks or is rumored to be intimidating but is actually lonely and misunderstood, with a heart of gold

animalistic in some manner (usually with bat/raven/dragon-like wings)

has a tattoo or some kind of bodily markings (Malleus has the scales under his hair; you could also count the OB facial markings I guess)

Outside of romantasy novels geared towards older teens (18-19) and adults, the west seems to really love brooding bad boys as love interests in a lot of its media. Something else I noticed is that the "good guys" or the "boy next door" types like Trey tend to be "the other man" in heterosexual love triangles, which miiight also explain why he gets looked over in the western fandom. (I discussed some of my own observations, which are similar to the points mentioned here, in the posts linked above.)

I wouldn’texactly phrase it like westerners preferring "more complex, intense romantic relationships [... with higher stakes and more significant emotional payoff]", as that unintentionally implies that there has to be brooding or angst in order for the story or character arc to be "good". I feel a lot of it actually depends on the execution rather than the tropes present. For example, I've seen many "Shadow Daddies" that exist purely for wish fulfillment rather than emotional or story/character complexity (which, to be clear, there's nothing wrong with if this is the kind of thing you enjoy!). Wholesome or "normal" romances also have the capacity to be complex, intense, high-stakes, and emotionally significant too! Again, it all depends on the quality of writing and what one's personal preferences are. You'll find outliers regardless of culture as well--as the asker has stated, no culture is a monolith!

[generic-whumperz]

(I’m aware what I have to say is not majority rule, and I understand the need for comfort and support it. But I haven’t ranted on here in a hot minute, so I suppose it’s over due?)

Guess I’m in the smaller minority that absolutely loves and craves a lot of pain and doesn’t need comfort to even the scales (no surprise!). It’s yet to get boring to me or feel too much. But I do sympathize with the concern for pacing, feeling the compulsive need to one-up yourself, and readers’ and writers’ fatigue when it comes to near-constant hurt/torture. As always, context matters as does the very nature of story itself. I’m fine with bleakness and helplessness, it’s oddly cathartic, and that’s comforting to me (yeah ironic that the lack of comfort is a comfort—existentialism who?)

Now for an unpopular stance: forcing “comfort” (whatever that may be) when a character isn’t ready to receive it, feels contrived and corny to me (emphasis on “isn’t ready”—completely subjective, so don’t come at my throat). It can cheapen the character journey and their likely struggles with touch aversion, trust, emotional stability, and the long term effects of captivity and conditioning that comes as a product of the whumping. Healing takes YEARS, DECADES, sometimes even half or a full lifetime. Recovery is MESSY and painful, and includes backsliding while simultaneously unlearning bad thought patterns and finding self worth again. Ouch.

“Comfort” isn’t always, well—comforting. It’s not just blankies, cuddles, and whispers of sweet nothings on a lover’s pillow folks, it’s real hard work that’s grueling as all hell. The aftermath could easily be an extension of the whump—Whump 2.0 if you will.

But hey, if palatable, Band Aid comfort is your thing, have at it by all means. This is a buffet genre, 24/7 at-the-readies, a little something for everyone and you can taste test all you want without paying a dime extra. That is a unique privilege we have here. So, as I am not knocking the whump buffet industrial complex, I hope the same mercy is granted to me as I gorge myself sick over at The Horrors™️.

Having said all this, I’m not any less likely to not read a story because there’s more comfort either, it’s more about vibes first and foremost, and if I give an honest to god shit about the characters and if the interpersonal dynamics speak to me. I’ll read fluff and cutesy shit too (can’t write it though), but usually this has to be a light at the end of the tunnel sort of deal. Take the crawling-on-your-knees and begging-for-a-passive-glance format of a slow burn, now apply it here. Bingo. I just don’t like easy things, I like a fictional struggle and a challenge, and that’s 100% on me and I don’t expect many others to share the same sentiment.

Comfort (in the genre sense) is usually making up for a real lack there of, an unfilled need, an escapist’s desert. And to that I say, the soft serve machine is right this way.

I’ve been thinking about this for a few days and I’d really like to hear people’s thoughts.

Feel free to add your thoughts, I’d really like to hear more about what readers want from their whump. I know I have my own opinions, but I’d love to hear more.

[exololyunho]

make you see god

masterlist

wc: 5.1k

summary: your dad had always warned you nothing good would come from relations with navy boys, but you were never one to listen

warnings: kinda e2l, drinking, this fictional mingi would be a red flag to me but its fiction so its hot, sexualizing the US military, oral sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, mingi picks the reader up, kinda rough sex, very minor sacrilege but its probably only offensive if you're super catholic, role-play??, tentative daddy kink but 'daddy' is never mentioned, reader does call him 'father' but I promise it's not as weird as it sounds

an: I wrote half of this over the summer when I went through a phase where all I could think about was glen powell so I watched like all of his movies and this was the result. I am aware this is very much a summer fling fic but it's cold where I am and the summer vibes feel fun. also sorry I've been gone so long but since I last posted I moved across the country, broke up with my bf, got a cat, got better antidepressants and got diagnosed with adhd so I've had a bit going on lol. I probably won't be posting often but once again I am soft launching a return. kinda. shits complicated

taglist: @staytinyinmybpack @jeonride @becky4733107-blog @ignoretheskies

Being raised by your dad and his navy buddies had taught you many things. Chief among them being not to mess around with navy guys. And to never surf at dusk. Of course you never learned your lesson.

It was during a surfing session at dusk that you met the navy man who would rock your world.

Sitting on your board, you took in the gentle rocking of the small waves as you waited for the swell that would carry you into shore. The sun was setting, casting a beautiful orange glow over the water. It was serene, peaceful, a gorgeous warm summer evening.

Until a shout broke through the air.

“SHARK!”

Immediately you drew your legs up on the board, frantically scanning the water around you. The only sharks around Miramar were white sharks and that meant almost certainly losing a limb if not your life.  When your eyes failed to find the telltale dark shape, you turned to look back at the shore.

Standing there, chuckling at his shitty joke, was a man. It was too far to make out the details, but from what you can see he was tall and lean, wearing a white short sleeve button down and khaki shorts.

“Just kidding!” he yelled. To say you were unamused was putting it lightly.

With a sigh, you decided to call it a night, having not seen any surfable swells coming your way anytime soon. Putting your feet back into the water and pivoting your board back towards the beach, you paddled in. 

Reaching the shore, you unclipped your ankle tether, gathering your board under your arm and storming up the man.

“Did you think that was funny? Everyone knows you don’t do that,” you glared at him. Up close you could see this man was a lot more handsome than you’d expected. His eyes were covered by aviators, but his jawline was strong, and his smile was cocky. His clean cut appearance and the way he carried himself gave you an inkling that he had military training

“I thought it was a little funny,” he quirked his head, nodding at you. “What were you doing out there?”

“Surfing, dipshit,” you moved past him. “Don’t do that again.”

“Are you going to at least tell me your name?” he shouted after you.

In response, all you offered him was your middle finger.

Working at the Hard Deck was a great job. It got tedious at times, dealing with overbearing and overly flirtatious sailors, but it was overall great. You loved bartending, loved meeting new people, loved eavesdropping on ridiculous conversations, and loved the lively atmosphere.

As with every usual night, you were enjoying your shift. You’d made friends with a few spring breakers, serving them tequila sodas and making plans to meet the girls at the beach the next day. 

The night was still young, so you balanced chatting with them while pouring beers and shots for the other patrons. The music was loud and so was the chatter.

Until a new group walked in, wearing service khakis. When the other patrons spotted them, they went quiet for a moment, raising their glasses in appreciation. You watched them make their way in, indifferent, as all it meant for you was more beer to pour. 

Your mood suddenly changed as you made eye contact with your prankster from last night. Rolling your eyes, you returned to polishing the glasses before you. 

“Hey surfer girl,” there he was, standing before you on the other side of the bar. Without his sunglasses, you could see his brown eyes looking back at you with a glimmer of something that had the dual effect of making your stomach flutter and making your fists itch to hit him.

“Hey asshole,” you kept up your work with the glasses, averting your eyes from his.

“So welcoming,” he placed a toothpick between his absurdly straight teeth. 

You sighed, setting down the glasses. “Can I get you something?”

“A friendly conversation and your name would be nice,” his eyes looked over you.

“Sorry we don’t serve that here,” you braced your hands on the counter. “How about a beer?”

“That’s a start,” his grin was blinding.

You rolled your eyes again, grabbing a freshly cleaned glass, pouring him the shittiest beer you had on tap. You placed the glass in front of him. Neither of you said anything for a moment, him staring at the glass, you staring at him expectantly.

“Weren’t you going to ask what beer I wanted?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you going to pay me?”

“Makes no sense but here,” he threw a card on the counter. “Close me out, would ya?”

“It’s $2.50 with a military discount, you don’t have any cash?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, picking up the card and dangling it lazily between two fingers. He waited for you to take the card, and after a moment of glaring at him, you snatched it. Quickly running the card, you returned it to him. 

“Anything else I can get you?” your tone was dry.

“Your name,” he responded, taking a small sip of his beer and grimacing.

“Yours first,” you countered.

“Priest,” he grinned.

“That’s your name?”

“It’s my call sign,” he looked smug.

“I wanted to know your name, not your call sign, douchebag,” you picked up another glass to polish.

“Give me yours first.”

“Nice to meet you, Priest,” you gave him one last smile before turning to serve another guest.

“Hey!” Priest called after you. “Your name?” 

“Next time!”

Next time came sooner than you had expected. 

It was the following day, you were with the two girls you’d met the night before, relaxing on the beach, your board next to you. The three of you were making small talk about the books you were reading mixed with questions about your backgrounds.

“So, Y/n, did you grow up here in Miramar?” the blonde, Yeji, asked.

You opened your mouth to respond, but you were interrupted before you could.

“So your name is Y/n, then.”

A shadow fell over you, forcing you to remove your sunglasses to face Priest. It was the first time you’d seen him shirtless and as much as the man annoyed you, you were very appreciative of the view above you. His chest was chiseled, strong and muscled, but lean. His thighs were equally as strong and toned, covered by navy blue swim trunks that hung low on his hips.

“My eyes are up here, babe,” he was grinning, his own eyes flicking over you.

Leaning up on your elbows you grinned back. “So are mine, Priest.”

“Touche,” he took his own sunglasses off. “Who are your friends?”

“This is Yeji and Lia,” you gestured to the two girls.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Priest gave a half-hearted wave. “Hey, Y/n, you wanna take a walk?”

“No not really,” you lowered your sunglasses.

“I’ll buy you a daiquiri.”

“What makes you think I like daiquiris?”

“Everyone loves daiquiris.”

“Fair enough,” you took his hand, letting him help you up. Grabbing the oversized button down you used as a cover up, you threw it on. “Watch my stuff?”

“Sorry, babe but we’re heading out soon,” Lia looked between you and Priest apologetically.

“No worries,” Priest grabbed your tote bag and surfboard for you. “We can leave it with my friends.”

“You think I trust your friends?” you put your hand on your hip.

“Just cooperate for once in your life,” Priest rolled his eyes.

“You’ve known me for 3 days and you just learned my name.”

“Let’s fix that,” Priest grinned down at you.

“Fine, fine,” you waved him off, then waved to the girls. “See ya.”

The two of you started down the beach, Priest holding your bag and board. A few hundred feet down the beach, you stumbled on his friends. A bunch of men, all toned and laughing as they tossed around a football. 

“Guys, this is surfer girl,” Priest called out to them. The seven men before you all turned, waving hello. “Introductions can wait. Watch her stuff?”

“Sure,” one of them called out and Priest dropped your stuff on a towel.

“Come on,” he took your hand. Priest was dragging you along, but he only made it a few paces before you were jerking your hand out of his.

“I can walk on my own, you know,” he started chuckling. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I'm following you for a free drink.”

“I like to think that my company also has something to do with you following me,” he slowed his pace to match yours.

“Presumptuous,” you stared straight ahead, refusing to have to look up at him.

Priest grumbled something under his breath, but you weren’t listening. Instead you were focused on the beachfront bar you were rapidly approaching. It was tacky, decorated with tiki torches, fake coconuts, and plastic leis. The bartender was wearing an open Hawaiian shirt.

“Aloha and welcome to Miramar’s premier Hawaiian style beach bar!” Priest made small talk with the man as you scanned the menu, picking out the most expensive drink you could find since it was on his dime.

“I think I’ll take the Ultra Aloha,” you gave your best smile to the bartender.

“Coming right up, pretty lady,” he turned his focus to Priest, his smile dying. “For you?”

“The same,” Priest was pulling out his wallet.

As the blender whirred away, you turned to him.

“So where did Priest come from?”

“Oh come on now,” he ran a hand through his black hair. “I can’t give away all of my secrets on the first date.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “I thought I told you I was just here for the free drink.”

“You’re the one who called me presumptuous,”  the bartender set your drinks on the counter, taking the $40 from Priest. “Keep the change.”

The two of you took the drinks, walking away as the bartender called after you. “The change is 50 cents!”

You followed Priest down to some chairs nearby, slowly sipping your drink. It was actually pretty good. So good, you couldn’t taste the rum over the pineapple. Dangerous.

“What were we talking about?” he asked as he sat in the chair. His legs were spread tantalizingly. Seeing him like this made you so mad for a reason you couldn’t put your finger on. Something about how lazily and confidently he looked over the beach before you, the casual confidence with which he held himself. What was really getting to you was the way his tongue played with the straw of his drink.

Shaking yourself out of it, you cleared your throat. “We were talking about how you thought this was a date.”

“Ah yes,” he nodded sagely. “Two people, getting drinks, talking alone on a beach, getting to know each other. Not a date.”

You snorted, gesturing to the quite busy area around you. “First of all, we’re not alone, there's a million other people on this beach. Second of all, we are not getting to know each other, you won’t even tell me your name.”

“You wouldn’t tell me your name either, I had to find it out from other people,” he shifted to face you. “So, in exchange for buying you a second drink, can we cut the crap? I think we can both agree that I clearly find you attractive, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you feel the same about me, and I want to know more about you.”

You were quiet for a moment, taking in his words and thinking over yours carefully. You moved to look at him better. “What’s your name?”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” his grin was wider now. “It’s Mingi.”

“Mingi,” you repeated with a smile on your face. Taking a moment, you started sucking down your drink, rushing to finish it.

“In a hurry for that next drink?”

“Sure,” you finished your drink, handing him the cup. “Mingi’s a nice name.”

With that, you were standing up, and walking away from him.

“Where are you going?” he called after you.

Turning and walking backwards, you lifted your middle fingers. “To surf!

It was a week before you saw him again. A Thursday night to be specific. It was your day off, yet here you were, sitting at the bar of the Hard Deck, chatting with your coworkers between them serving other patrons and you sipping on your vodka cran.

Your night was peaceful. Not quiet, with the music playing and the few other patrons chatting, but still peaceful.

Until, once again, your peace was ruined by someone sliding into the barstool next to you. Glancing up, you weren’t surprised to see Mingi sliding into the seat. He was dressed casually, jeans and a t-shirt. He didn’t look quite as cocky as he usually did. In fact, he looked almost irritated. 

“Rough day?” 

Mingi snorted, and ordered a beer. “You have no idea.”

He took a long drink. “Made worse by you running away from me last week.”

You glanced at him. You hadn’t felt bad before, but seeing him so frustrated now made you feel slightly shitty. “I’m here now. Wanna talk about what’s got you in a mood?”

“I didn’t think we were close enough for that. You know, since you ran away when I said I wanted to get to you?”

“I get it, I get it,” you waved your hand. “So what’s wrong?”

Mingi sighed. “Shitty instructor.”

“Wait, you're still in flight school?” you looked at him quizzically.

“Kinda. It’s complicated but I graduated a while ago, top of my class by the way, but a bunch of us got recalled for extra training. Top secret mission, y’know? If-”

“If you tell me you’ll have to kill me?” you smiled at him.

His cocky smile was back. “Exactly.”

You laughed, finally willing to admit to yourself that you were starting to enjoy his company. 

“So, if I buy you another drink, are you going to run away from me?” he arched an eyebrow. 

“I think it’s my turn to buy you a drink,” your eyes met and both of your smiles started to fall, the tension building between you.

Before it could build anymore, you cleared your throat. Looking away, you ordered both of you a new round of drinks. As the bartender poured them, you glanced back at him.

“So, where’d Priest come from?” new drinks were placed before you and you eagerly accepted the glass.

“If you were to ask me, I’d say it’s because I could make you see god,” Mingi’s smile was salacious, his eyes dropping to scan over your cropped t-shirt and daisy dukes. 

You swallowed hard. “And if I were to ask anyone else?”

He took a gulp of his beer. “If you were to ask anyone else, they’d say it was because I fly recklessly. Make the guys I’m flying with need their last rights.”

You were silent for a minute, taking in his words. “Why?”

He looked at you, clearly confused. “Why what?”

“Why do you fly like an ass?”

He chuckled, watching for a moment as you took a sip, waiting for him to answer. “I fly like I do because it gets the job done.”

“You don’t worry your buddies won’t have your back if you put them in danger?” your eyes scanned his face over the rim of your glass.

A faint smile graced his lips. “Our missions are important. And sometimes they call for drastic measures.”

You hummed in response, still focused on his face. You could see his face shift ever so slightly with what could only have been memories of past missions.

“So have they ever needed them?”

He quirked his head, not quite following your chain of thought. All you could do was hope that this hot man before hadn’t actually killed someone because of his own reckless nature.

“Needed their last rights.”

He laughed again, but it wasn’t nearly as joyful. “Not through any fault of mine, thankfully. I’ve lost people, sure, but I’ve never been the reason.” Mingi took a deep drink. “As much of an asshole as I can be, and my call sign aside, I don’t think I could live with myself if it ever was my fault.”

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes away from his face to fiddle with the two tiny straws in your glass.

Mingi clearing his throat drew your eyes back up. “Do you want to get out of here?”

At your raised eyebrow, he backpedaled. “We can just take a walk that’s totally fine but I-”

“Yeah,” you interrupted. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your back slammed against your closed front door. Mingi’s lips were on yours the moment the two of you made it inside your apartment. A combination of the furious kisses and the sudden impact of your back into the door had knocked the breath from your lungs, but not a single cell in your body wanted to pull away from Mingi.

He was intoxicating. He tasted faintly of beer and something indescribable that was just him. His lips were soft, his tongue insistent, and his hands wandering over every inch of you was exhilarating.

Eventually, you did have to come up for air, pulling away from him to let your head rest back against the door. Mingi didn’t miss a beat, his mouth migrating to your neck, nipping and sucking and kissing across your pulse point. 

Your left hand was grasping the front of his shirt and your right was on his back, feeling the flexing of the muscles there as he held onto you as if you’d disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second. 

Without missing a beat, his lips still attacking your neck, his hands slid to your thighs, picking you up in one fluid motion. A gasp escaped your lips as he settled your legs around his waist, perfectly situating you to feel exactly how hard he was under his jeans. 

The pressure of that length pressing right between your thighs combined with a perfectly targeted bite to a sensitive point on your neck had you releasing a breathy moan. 

Mingi’s lips parted from your neck as he now looked up to face you. One of your hands instinctively went to tangle in his hair as you crashed your lips onto his again. The force had his mouth dropping open as you took your turn to entwine your tongue with his. The two of you were aggressively fighting to see who’d come out on top.

You had thought you were winning until it was Mingi’s turn to grab your hair. He pulled your mouths apart and the act had you clenching around nothing as his face nuzzled into your neck, licking a stripe up the side before he spoke in a low tone. “Where’s your room?”

“Down-” you were cut off by his hips grinding into yours. Painting, you pulled yourself together enough to answer him. “Down the hall, first door on the right.”

Mingi immediately pulled you away from the door, his steady hands holding on tight as he seamlessly navigated your small space. He damn near kicked your door down, slamming it open before he was tossing you onto your bed. 

You let out a startled yelp before laughing. Scooting farther up your bed, you gave him your best bedroom eyes and spread your legs, suddenly remembering his call sign.

“Forgive me, father,” your lips curved into a faux pout as you made your voice as sultry as you possibly could. “For I have sinned.”

Mingi stopped for a moment before he put his head in his hands. For a moment you feared you’d made a mistake. Until you saw his shoulders shaking with laughter. He managed to compose himself, crawling towards you on the bed until he was situated between your spread legs on his knees. He still looked as if he was trying to hold it together.

“I don’t know if that was the corniest or the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Both of you were trying to hold back laughter, but his hand making contact with your thigh sobered you up. His long, nimble fingers stole your attention away from the joking atmosphere.

“So how should I repent?” your teeth bit into your lower lip as you laid back to pull your shirt over your head, revealing you weren’t wearing anything underneath. Mingi’s laughter disappeared as well as he took in your breasts. 

His lips curved into a wicked smile as he leaned over you, laying a kiss between your breasts, his eyes meeting yours. “I think 3 orgasms should be enough to forgive your sins.”

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips found one of your nipples and your hand once again found his hair. His own hand rose up, those long fingers playing with your other breast. 

He savaged it with the same vigor he had attacked your neck with earlier. His teeth left small nips all around as his tongue soothed the bites. You were panting, holding him tight to you with your eyes closed. 

Leaning back slightly to admire his work for a moment, Mingi quickly switched his focus to your other breast. He lavished the same treatment, leaving small marks all over. 

When you were thoroughly decorated in hickeys, he finally sat back up, admiring you splayed out before him as you caught your breath. As he stared, his hand came up to grab his shirt by the back of the collar, pulling it over his head.

Now it was your turn to ogle, thoroughly enjoying his broad muscled chest and a light dusting of hair that trailed down his abs and disappeared into his pants. 

You were broken out of your trance as his hands came down to pop the button on his jeans and then your shorts. Recognizing his goal, you lifted your hips, allowing him to pull your shorts and underwear down in one fluid movement. He flung them across the room.

Once you were naked beneath him, his hands fell to your thighs. They slid up until they reached your hips. Mingi slid himself down the bed until he was on his stomach, face level with your core. 

His hot breath fanning over you was enough to have your breath hitching and body tensing as you waited for him to touch you where you so desperately needed him. But he didn’t move, his eyes locked on yours. 

Both of you were frozen for what felt like a century, until he was suddenly moving forward, parting your folds with his tongue. The exhalation of relief that left you quickly morphed into a moan as his tongue found and circled your clit. You were so distracted by the bliss of finally feeling the pleasure you’d been hoping he’d give you that you didn’t even notice his hands moving. 

One hooked under your thigh, finally coming to rest on your stomach, right above your pelvic bone. The other slipped a finger inside of you. You were practically dripping at this point.

Mingi’s tongue never stopped working tight circles around your clit as his finger quirked up, stroking along your walls in a way that had your legs shaking while you gasped out moans and whimpers.

He slid a second finger inside you, alternating between scissoring them and swirling them around inside you. The pressure in your abdomen was tightening more and more every second. Your hand was fisted in the sheets, your head thrown back, breath coming quicker and quicker.

Mingi could tell you were close. He kept the same rhythm on your clit, but focused his fingers' attention purely on your g-spot, applying more pressure.

You were right on the edge and then you tumbled into the best orgasms you’d ever had. Your whole body tensed and your moans were silenced for a moment as your muscles clenched around him before whimpers were escaping you as your hips jerked and your breath came in shaky spurts.

Mingi hadn’t let up with his fingers or his tongue, keeping your high going until your body was trembling and you were pushing his head away. He relented, pulling back and wiping his mouth.

Your eyes were closed as you laid there, panting, legs still twitching as you tried to recover. You could have sworn you blacked out for a moment when he kept your orgasm going.

“That’s one down,” Mingi’s smug tone had you opening one eye to glare at him before it slipped shut again.

“I think any more might kill me.”

In response, he grabbed your hips, jerking you down the bed and pulling your legs over his thighs until your core was pressed to the front of his boxers. He’d pulled down his jeans at some point while you were recovering.

You could feel the heat of him against you, the hardness of his cock pressing into you as he subtly ground his hips into yours.

“I think you’ll probably live,” his hands slipped from your hips to grab your ass.

“I highly doubt it,” you shook your head, then a smile crossed your face. “At least you’ll be here. I can get my last rights and finally have a hope of going to heaven.”

He smiled, but was quickly pulling down his boxers. “I told you I could make you see god. I just hope I can do it without actually killing you.”

You would have laughed, if not for the fact that as he finished removing his boxers, his dick finally came into view. He was bigger than you’d thought he’d be. He wasn’t horrifyingly big, but he looked long enough to reach the deepest parts of you and thick enough to stretch you out enough that you’d be feeling it tomorrow.

Mingi tracked your gaze focused on his cock and grinned. “I think it’s time we finish your penance.”

His words had you swallowing as he guided his length into you. God damn were you right. He was moving slowly, but you felt every inch of him sliding into you, stretching you and filling you in all the right ways. 

When he bottomed out, you were expecting him to give you a minute to adjust, but what you weren’t expecting was for him to not move at all. He stayed seated all the way inside you as his fingers moved to your clit. 

“What are you-” you cut yourself off with a whimper as his fingers began moving in quick circles. 

“We’ve got to get you to three orgasms,” he leaned over you, his lips once again connecting with your breasts. “And I am so hard, I won’t last if I try to get you through two by fucking you.” 

His teeth gently bit down on your hard nipple. 

“That, and I really want to be able to focus on how fucking good you feel when you cum on my cock.” His voice was low, his eyes flicking up to meet yours.

Already you were so close. Still sensitive from the orgasm you just had, his fingers were pushing you right up to the edge once again. It was all you could do to cling to his strong arms as your back began to arch and your legs tightened around him.

Mingi kissed up from your breasts to your ear. He took your earlobe between his teeth before brushing his lips along the shell of your ear. “Cum.”

And you did, thankfully, not as intensely as before. But still, you cried out as you held on to him, your hips twitch up on their own and your muscles contracting around him.

“Fuck,” Mingi groaning in your ear had a high pitched moan leaving your lips. 

This time, he didn’t prolong your orgasm for too long. He gradually slowed his pace before pushing himself back up onto his knees.

“Thats. Two.” he punctuated each word with a thrust. Your head dropped back, the feeling of him finally moving was ecstatic. The slight upward curve of his length dragged across your g-spot every time he moved in and out.

“God, fuck, I think I could watch you cum all day,” he was settling into a rhythm that combined power with deep, slow thrusts. The force of each inward push was moving you up the bed. Mingi’s solution was to simply drag you back down to meet every one of his movements.

Each time your hips met, your skin slapping together combined with your moans and his low curses and grunts. It was music to your ears as you lost yourself in the sensation.

His thrust gradually grew in speed as he got closer. You were still a ways off from your third orgasm and he could tell. You yelped in shock as his hand on your hip shifted so his thumb could softly brush over your clit. 

“I-I can’t” you stuttered out.

“Yes you can,” he slowed his thrusts ever so slightly, leaning over you. “Gotta finish your penance, yeah?”

You laughed, only for it to be broken off into a moan as he leaned back up, increasing the speed of his thrusts and the rate at which he rubbed your clit. Your body was tensing up again, the pressure building up alarmingly quickly.

“Mingi- I-”

“Do it,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “Cum. Cum on my fucking cock. You can do it. Cum for me.”

And you did, one last time. Everything was so intense. The sensation washed over you, an all consuming wave of pleasure that quite literally had tears falling down your face. Your vision went white and you felt like you were floating.

Mingi continued thrusting into you rapidly, prolonging your orgasm, although he did thankfully take his thumb off your clit to spare you some overstimulation. 

You were just starting to come down when Mingi was finally moaning out his own release, spilling deep inside you. His hips stuttered and his head hung as he rode out his own waves of pleasure.

Both of you were panting heavily, but he stayed inside you for a few moments after he came. 

Finally, he pulled out of you. He flopped down beside you on the bed, pulling you into his side. You happily snuggled up to him, resting your head and hand on his chest and throwing a leg over his.

The two of you basked in the silence. 

Until you broke it. “So, am I forgiven for my sins?”

Mingi was silent for a moment. 

“Mmm, I don’t know. Three might not have been enough.”

You lifted your head to look up at him incredulously. He met your gaze with laughter before he pulled you into a kiss.

[starlightandmusings]

Hot take! (maybe)

I love Katherine and Sarah and I don't think they need to be in a relationship to be good/relevant characters (in fact I really wish both of their stories had been explored more in depth but alas)

BUT

I have something to say: the way Disney/Harvey Fierstein adapted Newsies for the stage, I feel like Sarah should have been kept both as a character and as Jack's love interest just with her story expanded upon

It seems really sus to me how Fierstein said he wanted a character that was a "better" female character (aka more than just the love interest) that girls could look up to/see themselves in but he then cut the original female lead entirely...

And I think that Katherine 1) shouldn't have been Pulitzer's daughter because that's kinda unnecessary and I don't like that they named her after a dead little girl, and 2) should have been Davey's love interest instead

Obviously I know that a lot of people like Javey and think that Davey is gay (I'm one of those people in fact!) but I really think that Katherine would have worked as a romantic foil(?) for him and it would just make more sense partly because Davey was the one in the film who had the connection to the reporter (Denton) and cutting that relationship kinda nerfed Davey as a character

Anyways. Sorry for ranting but I wanted to share this with someone and get their opinion and you're cool. so.

bye! :D

wait this is SO interesting!

i do miss sarah. i think the fandom generally doesn’t care about her because she didn’t have a point besides the love interest in 92sies, but it does seem odd to me that disney would rectify that by just… making another character? rather than developing the one they already had?

i am sooo on board with your katherine points. the pulitzer’s daughter twist is a stretch (as is jack meeting and working with bill and darcy!) and yeah, the real katherine pulitzer died when she was like, 2. so it’s weird and kinda creepy that they used this girl’s name when they could’ve kept it fictional. i’ve always thought this.

i’m so curious as to katherine & davey’s potential as a couple. i see them predominantly as best friends, probably because they’re so similar (logic-driven, sassy, booksmart). but you are so right in that davey’s character development is stunted because he doesn’t have denton! i think katherine and sarah, in both being love interests, could have been foils for each other, and this could’ve been sooo interesting, 100%. (am i getting back on my develop the girls’ stories bc there’s a thousand boys in here bs? yeah!!!)

thank you for this ask! such a fun message to wake up to (:

[the-bloody-sadist]

Hello! Fellow yanagihara hater here. Please share more of your views on a little life i beg because that book was so promising with its themes goddamn but then the writer had to fuck it up -

OH NOOOOO THE CHANCE TO BE A HATER WHATEVER WILL I DO.....

THANKS FOR ASKING.

I'm really glad to hear from someone who was also angry at the book and its author! I tend to be more bothered than usual when any form of media is popular for so-called "trauma representation", held up as a classic, etc., and then when I consume that media, I find out that the way it's written is more of a pretentious normie's view of "suffering", which, in my opinion, is disgusting. NOW. PLEASE BE REMINDED THAT I HAVE STRONG OPINIONS, AND ALSO TAKE THEM WITH A GRAIN OF SALT, AS I'M PARTICULARLY TRIGGERED BY WHAT I FEEL IS HORRIBLE TRAUMA REP. And a second grain of salt, too, since I did NOT read all of A Little Life (because I got too angry, knew exactly where it was going, and said FUCK YOU YANAGIHARA, I'm going to watch a video essay breakdown of the plot instead so I don't kill myself), and also watched behind the scenes interviews that made me hate Yanagihara even more.

If you're curious what video I watched that broke down the plot and confirmed all of my expectations on this book, it's here! I remember not agreeing with a lot of what that YouTuber said, because some things are silly to complain about in fiction and I don't believe in the whole "sexual abuse should not be shown in graphic detail", which I think was part of his discussion?? Bad memory, sorry. What I think is ugly about the book is the pile-on of RIDICULOUS amounts of trauma for Jude, to a degree that makes it a parody, almost comedically, of real trauma. From a writer's perspective, I'm furious at the way she used it and the way it succeeded at it's one job--NOT to help people understand the effects of trauma and CSA--but to make them cry. It's cheap, it's gross, and it casts all of Jude's trauma (for me) in the light of "this author was proud of herself for how much she could stuff into one boy just to make SURE you were devastated, while paying no special attention to make sure these traumas were handled with care". It's enraging to see how low the standard is for professional books that A Little Life is held up the way it is.

Now, don't get me wrong, her prose, while bogged down by excruciating and needless detail a lot of times, is very engaging. It's part of why I was so mad that it failed in the most important areas. I wanted it to be good! I really did! And I loved Jude, he would've been a wonderful character if not for her amateur decisions. Had she picked one or two traumas to focus on, created a realistic background for him, and had his death make for better impact and purpose to the plot, I'd probably have the book on my shelf as a top ten. But instead, I listened to her speak about how she did ZERO RESEARCH ON TRAUMA for Jude, apparently doesn't have trauma of her own that she's referencing (because then, no matter how much I disliked it, I would be more forgiving if she's pulling from her own experiences), and just...is so FLIPPANT about how she wrote it. Plus, in my personal opinion, I don't like her attitude in general. She comes off like a cringe edgelord for the slop she wrote, and I know so many authors who aren't even professionals that write trauma WORLDS better than she ever could.

Also, I'm so sorry, but the COVER??? What a perfect representation for the book, honestly. That old photo of the dude making an expression of pain that looks fake as fuck to me, just...eugh.

You know those gacha life cringe videos where the characters are all gory and talk about fucked up shit that happened to them, but it's extreme and ridiculous? That's what this book felt like once it dove into Jude.

When I write my own characters, I try to pick a single trauma for them and a couple coping mechanisms. It's important to me that one trauma isn't just tossed in there without regard for how much it changes someone's life, behaviors, and thought processes. Other traumas exist, of course, but they fit within the theme for what the character will represent. And I think it's important to have characters around them that will balance that trauma, a caretaker, a friend, and some sort of hope. Even if it might be true in real life that some people do have out-of-this-world experiences of trauma, there's not a lot of ways to correctly convey that in fiction without coming off as silly or over-imaginative. It quickly feels like the author is jerking themselves off in how "good" they are at making characters suffer, when for me, it's about how good they are at portraying how even a "small" trauma can affect the character deeply. I respect it more when media explores the subtle aspects of trauma, incorporating multiple side-effects instead of just one. Again, I know not everyone is as picky as I am. I'm trying to have more grace for what others think is realistic, but A Little Life is WAY over that line. Whenever I read or watch something that has overdone, overdramatic, or unrealistic depictions of trauma, it's intensely triggering, and sometimes I've become suicidal for like a whole week afterwards LMFAO, so I'm super passionate about this subject, and I think it's because I'm both a writer and a trauma survivor. Having CPTSD and watching shit like Bungou Stray Dogs get praised for "good PTSD rep" with ATSUSHI????? Straying a bit from the topic, but I lose respect for anyone who expresses that opinion.

Anyway, as a closing opinion, Yanagihara just sounds like a teen fanfic writer who crams their story full of misery and thinks she's done a great job just because there was a lot of it and people went “aww, so sad”. It just felt like trauma is a spectacle for her, not a crushing psychological experience.

I already feel misunderstood enough, as is. I already feel like my trauma has been disregarded by anybody who hasn't shared the same type of trauma. The last thing I need is confirmation that it'll continue to be misunderstood because of media depictions like A Little Life.

THANKS FOR LETTING ME RANT, ANON! I hope I shared a lot of the same things you felt about the book!! I don't think I said everything as well as I wanted to, but I pushed the book out of my mind as much as possible after getting triggered by it, so I can't recall all of the details in full clarity. LMAO...

MUCH LOVE TO YOU!! And to leave on a positive note, I recently watched Room (with Brie Larson) and it was one of the BEST realistic representations of trauma I've seen in a LONG TIME. So that was nice!! It's in my favorites list now and I recommend it to everyone so you don't have to think about A Little Life anymore 🫵😡

[thirdtimed]

someone left a really good set of tags on the life series winner post but in essence i agree that while i like the watchers in theory as window dressing to the entire tragedy fueling this endless cycle of blood sports i think its a million times more intriguing and engaging for the truth of the matter to be that the lifers themselves are the reason for their own suffering. the watchers are just kind of there as an excuse for their own faults

[spaciebabie]

if you are someone like me who has trouble processing life events/mental health stuff create an oc. like. make a guy who's entire story is yours, who knows every inch of your suffering b/c they are you but maybe all their troubles stem from being in an intergalactic war with goob noobs or something. hurt them in terrible ways so that you dont hurt yourself.

[llitchilitchi]

[lloydfrontera]

tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

[vaguely-concerned]

every day my brain produces the sentence 'blue doesn't deserve that zero's dick probably has a vibrate function. but in this life we don't get what we deserve we get what we get'. and every day I have to sigh and go 'I mean it's true but should you say it'

[lord-squiggletits]

Can't get over that time I saw someone whose take on Punishment was "Optimus says that if you punch Nazis it makes you as bad as the Nazis" as opposed to like

"For a stable and peaceful post-war society to exist people will be required to forgive unforgivable things because the alternative is endlessly perpetuating the cycles of hatred and violence. Also it's kind of fucked up to mass murder people especially when they're historically oppressed/working class people who are currently living in slums outside of mainstream society because everyone hates them so much they won't hire or give them housing. Also as the leader of the Autobots Optimus has to hold his own people accountable just as much as he would hold a Decepticon accountable because otherwise that's just blatant bias and bigotry."

[seventh-district]

again and again i find myself lamenting that audio roleplay isn't taken more seriously by some people. like yeah, they often have a romantic element, and by nature they usually directly involve/address the listener- and i totally get that those things aren't to everyone's taste. no art or entertainment is universally appealing, and that's okay! but.. it still makes me a lil sad that the "cringe" reputation of asmr/audio rp precedes it. there's a whole lot of talent and creativity being poured into these audios by so many people that i feel goes unrecognized and/or disrespected simply due to the medium that the stories are being told through.

[kazumasougi]

im gonna be real for a second. if fantasy can only be enjoyable to you when removed from any and all real world implications then is it even good

[5-htagonist]

.........im just gonna be real i do not see kabu misu. like period...... like dont get me wrong theyhave a good dynamic but it was NOT mithrun in the middle of his conspiracy board