#i wanted rich mean boss lady vibes

[judith-ward]

Judith Ward

[punksocks]

Please pick the picture that resonates with you, that gives you sort of that subconscious pull. The picture with the most weight behind it.

This didn’t quite turn out how I expected but I do like the results ! Everything may not resonate perfectly because they’re general readings, but please comment which pile resonates with you the most, and your thoughts after your reading <3

Why do people stare at you?

*****

-Pile 1: People stare at you because you have this air of authority. You may have been through a lot of heavy life experiences, a lot of tragedy and betrayal from those you’re closest to. (I had a hard time writing out the words for this one- some of your may still really struggle with the weight of what you’ve endured.) But you’ve made a lot of progress in overcoming this. You’ll get your just deserts and you’ll never have to look back at this betrayal again. You know how to build a way out for yourself and that empresses a lot people and gives you a naturally regal air (I misspelled this in my notes too lol, confirmation). You still manage to be kind and generous despite your wounds from what you’ve endured. If you have the mean, financial or otherwise, you use them to be a good person. You’re at the end of a cycle of suffering and people find your strength poetic. You’ve gotten through so much so successfully, it leaves people enamored and they want to honor how you’ve done it (ok I was going to write hear over honor but it felt too important to correct, this confirms how you’re coming out of this on top). You work so hard, endlessly, people are in awe of your stamina and want to know what you’re doing next. You’re a very passionate person, people love your ambitions and how you always have energy to create and expand and work (Do you have fire signs in your big 6? Especially Aries?). You’re the life of the party ! You may be a heartbreaker as well. People want to work with you to see what you know (Possible Capricorn energy, especially Ascendant). People don’t think they’ll measure up to your -steep- standards, but they love to shoot their shot anyway (my notes say to be your lover, but I can’t type that outright lol). You have boss babe energy and people want a shot at proving themselves to you (proving that they can keep up with you, even when they /know/ they can’t). They get scared at the possibility of fumbling you (bruh the way I sucked my teeth on accident, this doesn’t impress you lol). They think their worlds will fall apart if they have you and screw it up (Scorpio/Pluto placement vibes?) People see you as rich, wealthy, abundant (financially, rich in resources, energy even, any of that). They see you as very ambitious and they wonder if they can keep up without falling behind or getting jealous. People dispare over the thought of keeping up with you because they know they can’t match you (*despair, but this may indicate experiencing ghosting for some of you. Also emphasis on Aries energy again). You do all of this while prioritizing your self care and happiness. Good for you Pile 1! Don’t slow down or neglect yourself on behalf of anyone. Someone that knows how to match you will come into your life if they haven’t already. Ancestors/ guides/ however you prefer to refer to them as say they’re proud of you but you’ve got to release all of those people that want you to slow down for them— they’re dead weight (damn, stone cold, as you should be).

Songs:

******

-Pile 2: people stare at you because you’re super major! My brain went to a valley girl accent so people may regularly under estimate you pile 2 (major Elle Woods from Legally Blonde vibes). They may assume you’re a bit vapid or superficial but you contain multitudes and you have some seriously strong boundaries. The Emperor came out from 2 different decks! You’re often the smartest person in the room, and you really don’t care about your haters, you couldn’t care less about them because you know they’re below you. (Impressive, a lot of people have to work on healthily embracing their ego, you’re balanced in this and that’s commendable.) People stare at your naturally regal presence ‘I look expensive’ I’d what I just heard. You are really luxurious (in small and big ways - luxury can also mean never treating yourself less than you deserve.) People may try to steal attention from you but you know they’re grasping at straws. You don’t let them phase you. Like grounded Libra energy. You may be a bit older, some of you have Libra conjunct outer planets. Like Pluto, so there’s a lot of depth to your grace and charm. At the beginning (of the reading) the original Venus song, from the 60s, played. You may also be drawn to a vintage/classic style and this adds to your charm. The fact that you know when to pause and rest helps make you so unstoppable. You’re a very balanced person, strong Libra energy. You channel being balanced into making things happen (‘making money moves’). I thought of my Grandma (my favorite Libra tbh) very demure, classical lady, but she could move mountains when she set her mind to it. You have a razor sharp intuition too, you always know ‘when to hold ‘em and when to fold em’ (do some of you like country music? Lol) You know how to get your wishes fulfilled. You may be older (gen X) or you just have really mature vibes for your age. You’ve probably transformed a lot to get to this point in your life as well. I’m happy for you and your guides are proud of how far you’ve come (and how far you’ll go)

Cosmia by Joanna Newsom

******

-Pile 3: Hello my pile 3’s, your guides had a lot they wanted to say to you and I had to switch pens bc my first one ran out. I get the feeling that you rushed into a new opportunity lately. A situation that you thought you wished for but it broke your heart. Could be a relationship or a job, something that you hoped would solve your woes but brought you more head and heart ache than you expected. This was a challenging period but people are staring because they can see hope and optimism coming back to you. ‘The sun will shine on another day’ I heard. (Either you’re realizing this or your guides need you to know this truth.) The Sun, The Star, and the Ace of Swords all came out so you’re really being called to stay optimistic because things will get better is what I’m getting. You’re gaining more abundance after a hard period and you’ve been weighed down by a lot of burdens (too many !). But this cycle is ending and is calling on you to listen to the knowledge you already know. You’re growing into your emotional understanding and overall this pushed growth is for the best. You’re learning you’re your own expert guide. You know what you want and need the best out of everyone. People can tell you’re changing and you’re not who you used to be.

[deadpool15]

Sugarbaby vibes ✨️

I walked out of the fitting room wearing the shit Chanel set. Let's be honest I looked to fucking die for, but once I saw the price it looked mid. Of course I wanted it and speaking of price it's Chanel what did I expect. If anything I suggested, let's go thrifting, as you can tell I didn't grow up with money. I'm still trying to get used to living this life now, it's crazy hoe just last week I was struggling to afford a pack of fucking Ramen at the convenience store and now I live in a penthouse. Your girl did, in fact, come up in life. You all better be proud. All thanks to the one and only Bada Lee.

Bada is about 28, and I'm 22, so there is a slight age gap if you care about any of that. Shit I didn't. I just needed someone to pay my bills. How we met it quite an interesting story if you think about it, I mean, I didn't sign up for a sugar mama like on the weird ass movies or stories you see on Wattpad. I was, in fact, working as a waiter in this high-end restaurant with might I add a shitty pay. Why are we serving all this expensive ass shit and in only getting made a few bucks in an hour? It's giving slavery, and not mentions my boss who, like most men, convince himself within the 3 minutes of hiring me that I was destined to be his furtre wife and the mother of his children as he call it. If you wanted to know what crazy looks like, we'll Mr. Kim is a prime example.

But we are getting of topic. See, I don't wanna tell you about my overly obsessive ass boss. I wanna tell you about the women who turned my life around. Serving tables is absolute shit, especially when no matter how rich one is, they never tip. "Hey Blue, bossman says he needs you at table six." I turned around to my partner in crime, Leslie. I'm happy to see her until I realized what she said, "I'm on break, though, like all these people around here . Can't he bother someone else." She gave me a sad smile and shrugged, "no, you know he likes to watch you suffer, because he expects after a while you will give in and let him take you out on a date." I stare at her with disgust.

"Yea, never mind your you're right. I'll take my chances with the wolves again. I'm just get going. If he asks again, make sure to tell him I chose getting screamed and yelled at my rich elderly woman over acknowledging his existence. " I hurried and jog off before she could say anything, grabbing my notepad and pen out of my pocket I had towards table six. With the biggest fake smile on. The love I have for these customers is crazy.

I stand there saying my usual line in the most chipper voice one can muster, whiteout even looking at the person sitting down in front of me. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm blue and very happy to serve you tonight. So what can I get, you folks?" I hear someone speak before muttering something about how I'm pretty, then I finally gather the courage to look up and see a group of women. All dressed to perfection, clothes tailored just to fit their figure. Those majority of them look around my age or slightly older. After a moment of being caught in a daze while overanlyzing them, I turn to her the tallest one of the bun speak up. "I would like to have a water to drink and just some shrimp pasta."

I make eye contact with her and my God. This is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. It almost feels like i should have to pay a fee to look upon her face. My stare moves down to her lips and not e how nice and pump they are. I would kill to suck on those lips, to feel what they tasted like even. I realize I've just been staring at her while the rest of the women have spoken uo about their order already. "Oo, I'm s-so sorry." I state being an absolute nervous wreck while looking down at my notepad. I hope she didn't notice that. "It's fine, sweetheart," I heard the girl that was referred to ad Lusher somewhere in the conversation state to me. I hurry up and excuse myself to go get their orders. She keeps staring at me, bitting the inner part of her check. Eventually, they leave after a while, leaving a $200 tip for me. I almost couldn't believe it. This I'd the first time someone has ever given me that much money as a tip.

After a while, the girl continues to come to our little restaurant. Same table, same confidence aura and everything. She makes it seem as if she is trying to just get something to eat. We continue to see each other even after work. She would pop in on my breaks, and around the time, I would clock out. She was intimidating. I'll get her that. I spoke with class, and her vibe just let you know she had money. And it seemed she had her eyes on a certain girl. Me. Though, after beating around the bush, Bada told me exactly what she wanted. "I want to take care of you. You'll never have to worry about a single thing when you're with me. Or lift a finger. Give you the life you deserve, baby. I mean, you are a cute little waitress, but you can be so much more. Why waste your time when you have me. Just say the words, and I'll take care of you."

Some might've immediately said yes, and to be honest, I would've to. Until Bada told me there were rules. Which did kinda throw me off a bit. I mean, I thought I had the whole idea down until well, I realized I didn't. It wasn't just about the money it was the pleasure. How much would she give me, and fuck did she give me a lot. Well lived by only a few rules, but Bada took them very seriously.

Rule 1: Don't question anything

Rule 2: Don't talk back

Rule 3: Don't touch yourself

You should've seen the look on my face when I heard the third rule, I mean, at the bright age of 22, who the hell doesn't masturbate. Literally made no sense to me until she tried to explain it further. "I give you pleasure. I'm the only one who should be touching you. I'm general baby. You belong entirely to me. That's how this works. Therefore, you shouldn't be doing anything without my permission cupcake." After finally going over the terms, I agreed in the end. At the end of the day, I was a broke college student who desperately needed the money, and Bada just so happens to be the sexy older one willing to give it to me. In a sense, I was happy with my current predicament. My life was going well. Now, back to what I was saying earlier.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, I forget that I can look this good. "Yea, ayye, get it, girl." In the process of hyping myself up, I finally hear a voice speak up from behind me, scaring the absolute shit out of me. "I'm glad you like it, baby. It does look good on you, I told you I have an eye for beautiful things. I mean, just look at my baby girl." She says while holding on to my waist, kissing my neck slowly. I smile for a while until I realize what she is doing. "Baby, we are in public, a fitting room at that. We aren't doing that here," I say, trying to be firm while avoiding her glaze in the mirror.

"What did I tell you about saying no to me, huh? Do you make the rules?" She forcefully grabbed my chin when she caught on to the act. She grabs my breast while still making eye contact with me in the mirror. "That's right, just stand right here, ok? Gonna be my good girl, right?" I stare at the door, thinking about the people outside that will hear us. While I'm thinking about them, Bada moved the hand that was holding me under my top, slowly circling my right nipple. "Gonna be good, right?" She asks again,she never has enough patience to ask again. It seems she is being nice today. I nod my head at her question this time.

"Word babygirl, I need to hear you. Let them hear you. Just stop all that thinking for me." I whimper at her words. Finally, forgetting about the staff in the store. She moves her hand down my body, teasing me with her pace. "P-please, I'll be g-good. Gonna be so good for you." She smirks, looking down at my face before moving her hand towards my soaked pussy. "Always so f-fucking good for me, aren't you? My precious little baby. Just needs to be filled, like always." I look into her eyes in the mirror about to answer her before she insert a finger into me, all while still playing with my breasts. She knows my body like the back of her hand. Doesn't even have to try to find the spot.

"Yea, right there, come on. I can't hear you, baby girl." I know exactly the game she is playing at, but I can only stand there moaning like a bitch in heat being held on my weak jelly-like legs as she adds two more fingers. While she grinds her hips into me, fuck those bloody dancers and there hips. "Y-yes y-yes... shit o fuck right there". She just smiles at my reactions. Assuming to her if anything. "Were gonna buy this little outfit, then I'm gonna by 28 fucking more just to fuck the shit out of you in them. And you gonna let me, aren't you?. Gonna take it like a good girl who just needs her holes filled, right?" I shake my head, screaming yes over and over again while nodding profusely. Seems that's the only word my brain can come up with as she starts to suck down on my neck leaving marks while circling my clit with her thumbs. And she still continues to thrust those same three fingers in and out of me ob command.

"Fucked you dumb, aww that's adorable baby. But we just started, " She says while smirking, and I stare at her in a mix of fear and pleasure. "Now open those legs wider for me, baby girl."

[looptroupe]

HI GORGEOUS!!!!

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TELL US ABOUT YOUR WIPS AND AUS IM REALLY INTERESTED 🙏🙏🙏

Foams at the mouth

I’m in the middle of writing up a whole HC post for someone asking about a highschool AU but I’m gonna take this opportunity to sidetrack the conversation towards something I’d love to genuinely see from the series… a HEAVY (film) noir lean. Think: Bogart, Framed, Gilda, Vertigo… probably pushing the era back 40’s, 50’s way (Maybe even some 30’s lean in there, if I could get away with it) instead of the general 60’s vibe Lupin has going for it.

I think there’s a TON of potential there. I mean, I’m aware something like this was pitched (and never picked up, sigh…) so there IS sentiment there, and the idea has been thought about, but instead of TWCFM’s ‘serious Lupin’ I’d love to see a true noir ‘serious Lupin’. I think you can put these characters into a serious setting without making them straight up evil, and I’ll be honest, I think it would be way more appealing than the stuff they’ve been releasing lately (besides Zero. I have to admit that I loved Zero).

I’d want the gang to actually feel like criminals, though. Cutting shady deals in illegal bars, Lupin running his mouth to big players about whatever new heist he has up his sleeve. I’d take them back to being Miyazaki-esque ‘living paycheck-to-paycheck’ rather than ‘insta-rich Lupin funding his hedonistic spirit’ because I think that would work better in this universe: Lupin is constantly getting them in hot shit with the big leagues because he can’t keep his mouth shut. Jigen has shot ten guys this week who have come knocking at their hideout’s door looking for trouble. Goemon’s sick of digging graves and is antsy to finally be who he dreams of being. Fujiko’s got her eyes on a bigger prize, like always.

Zenigata’s an underpaid beat-cop-turned-inspector who has been trying to climb the ranks for a long while. He’s ambitious, but a little too soft for his own good: he’s hopeful in a way that most of the guys in his squad aren’t, and that makes him the perfect candidate for when the commissioner has to shill a shitty 9-5 case on an unsuspecting worker. A file lands on his desk, and he flips through it with this eager fire, like he’s just been asked to take on the world, and Lupin and his gang smile up at him from the pages.

Lupin is a crook, he learns. Part-time petty thief, full-time smooth-talker: a man with a legacy to live up to and not a whole lot to show for it besides a reputation as a lady-killer and a particularly long unpaid tab at the seediest bar in town. His sticky fingers have landed him in more trouble than they’ve gotten him out of, and recent reports say that he’s managed to get under the skin of the most notorious once-criminal-now-film-director in town… the very criminal that underhandedly paid Zenigata’s boss to start an official investigation in the first place.

Jigen is a gun-for-hire. Babysitter, bodyguard, hitman… whatever you need, he’ll do, however begrudgingly. He’s not a guy you mess with: and his reputation is actually pretty good in criminal circles. He’s well-respected and well-liked. Or, he was, until the monkey-faced man at the bar implicated him in a crime he didn’t commit. Now, he’s babysitting without pay, and he’s starting to get a little sick of having to put bullets into the faces of old friends who decide his bounty is worth more than his loyalty. Figures.

Goemon’s a man slightly-less-out-of-time. A famous Japanese-American film star, he’s known world-over for starring in Samurai flicks alongside his leading lady, Fujiko Mine. The thing is, Goemon is classically trained in swordslinging, and when Lupin offers him an opportunity to be the very person he’s been portraying on screen, he’s more than happy to throw his reputation away. He never cared much for fame, anyway. There’s just this one little hitch: he’s enamoured with the sword he last used on set, and he won’t take no for an answer when he asks Lupin to retrieve it for him.

Fujiko has her eyes on a prize a little more exciting than Zantetsuken: the film empire she’s helped build herself. The tabloids can’t get enough of her, and she knows that a marriage to the most famous director the world has ever seen might just secure her a place in history. The thing is, the man she’s trying her best to seduce has stopped paying her attention since his beloved priceless-antique-turned-prop-sword went missing, and she’s determined to get it back for him. Because what would make him fall quicker? Ah, there’s just one catch: Lupin is kind of charming, and the life he’s living is… exciting. Tempting. Fujiko likes playing with fire, but she���s starting to get a little too close to this one particular flame. The heat has her cheeks burning… Or maybe that’s Goemon’s doing.

They’re a strange little bunch, the Lupin Gang. But man, do people have a habit of underestimating them. Zenigata included. Because what he thinks to be a simple case of theft soon turns into something more sinister as the layers of movie-magic veneer begin to peel away. Maybe Lupin was onto something, targeting this guy, and maybe this hotshot director isn’t quite as reformed as he says he is.

He went to court recently, after all. Say, how much did he pay the judge to overturn that guilty verdict? Zenigata would like that sum as a pay rise once this has all blown over. That, and some fresh smokes.

((Mmm someone should hop on board and help me develop this I think. Could be a fun little exercise on the side… if it’s up anyone’s alley >:) ))

[alarmsofmyheart]

Jack and Joker : U Steal My Heart Ep 6

Is it deepavali in Thailand too.. jk, is it Chinese new year??

Ok we are having feast with children

OMG THESE GIRLS ARE THE BEST, Toi Ting my babygirl, spread the word yesss!!!!

The way everyone can see except them two idiots(affectionate)

AVGahahahshga Yin in Full Black and War in Red with Black+Red sleeves aAAAAAAAAAAA

OMG JOKE🤣 Yes boi, he accepted you as a friend but nobody is accepting that 🤣🤣🤣🤣

(This is gonna one hell of an episode, fluffy and improvements in relationship but I'm late and I'm still not ready)

Wow these girls..

Ayo Joke doesn't know how to cut fish?

O!! It's about belief.. okay

Aw.. let him finish the question

From having a home who probably don't want him back to getting to live in a home where both of them want you to stay.. Joke really found a family.

Oh no.. he is emo

Now I'm emo too, I'm not gonna stay on this thing, because eating with family sucks. I'm glad Joke found a new family.

OMG ROSE WENT TO THE BOSSDAD

These guys were swayed by JACK aosjsjsh

On no the reveal!! The cult lady is a mastermind

Mark looks so pretty

The bgm for Aran is so sad and lonely 😭

Boi is falling for Tattoo.. he left the group.. life is not that easy

That's what happens when richer people are stomping on less rich people, She wants to protect Jack and not even Dad can protect his woman's necklace or his son.. it's sad, let's see

He finally said 'im not leaving even if you kick me out' Yes sir, go cling on to him

Not Ama eavesdropping ajshsjsj

Joke your heart eyes

When your boyfriend is a legendary thief, you can't lock him out even from your bathroom 😌

That was so domestic (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

Oh yes this was expected, Aran is going to get bet/slapped/scolded

Hope is getting it twice ig

Aran left.. o fuck the Joker ring!!!

Jack is still going to be in debt/hold because of Joker ring isn't he

Oh! The ♥️ RED ♥️ shirts were for Chinese New Year OKAY

Happy New Year Jack, Joke, Ama, Toi Ting.. it's gonna get so bad

All those superstition about eating techniques were actually a foreshadowing I see

That was beautiful. God War Wanarat is so beautiful. Him sitting on floor and talking to Toi Ting was so calming the fuck down.

Oh boi, didn't ama just say don't give loans?? Smh

Aran is going to move in with Tattoo??now that both his mom and Hoi left to the shrine?

Aran is in the same grey shirt..

Wow BossDad really did cut ties with him, it's going to become difficult

His car is seized, he is fired, blah blah, How will he pay for the food he is eating 👀

Aran is really going through the downward spiral arc, it's going to get bad

Save comes to save Hope (I had to type it sorry)

Guys, get a room 🤷🏽‍♀️ not infront of Hoi and Tattoo's salad drinks

He cried.. babygirl

This dynamic between Tattoo and Aran is so dumb and realistic

Hoi is caught in a different web

Aww here comes the dreamy light

OMYGOD THAT WAS SO WELL DONE WITH THE KIDS AND THE SMILEY ON THE TEAR SOAKED PAPER

YINWAR MYGOD JACK JOKE THAT WAS NOT THE LOVE CONFESSION I EXPECTED

And the promise!!!!!!

Yes we have a witness for the confession.

Joke contacted Coach??!!!

Coach got a redemption. Nice.

Jack is going through it..

Jack dear..

I just realised, shok means luck right?? In Thai and shok and Joke sound same.. and Jack has got Joke now..

Idk how long it's gonna last, but it is good

Save is not buying that..

Oh God the cult lady is going to ask for Jack as a pawn?? Or something?? The bgm is so scary wth

This is the worst last payment scene I've seen.. the eerie vibes, the happiness in Jack's face, the absolute cool boss acting of the Boss, and please Joke please be not waiting outside

Jack looks so pretty.. so pretty it's sad

Oh fuck Joke IS INDEED WAITING OUTSIDE

First episode, Joke was looking from far, now he is standing on the portico of Jack's place, it's nice but the queasy feels of this whole scene

I can't unhear the "shok di na" stuffs, because Jack has Joke already it's sooo stuffy choking mentally

Tf was that?? Save probably did something with the savings money? Or the land??

So.. Boss dad pawned Ama, money does run the world doesn't it??

Joke is going to have to wait..

Alright that's it.. I had to sit while the outro song plays to process this all

[yellowhollyhock]

spoilers

mm angel!

(I'm sorry they're the mm turtles I'll use the popular tag for spoilers but after that it's back to mm tmnt. 2012 show was already called tales and tottmnt looks too much like rottmnt. Besides that I'd already been using mm tmnt when we even learned the show would be a thing. I'm sorry for being stubborn about this but I gotta be able to remember and navigate my own tags. they are the mutant mayhem movie universe. forever)

Anyways. Angel!!

Okay so I'm a little scared, because the first impression we get is very much her being just mean, felt a lot more like Kendra than Angel. I know I'll enjoy her more if I don't go in expecting 03 Angel and I'm trying buuuut it's difficult. I'm also hopeful though because the Purple Dragons as a group seem like vulnerable kids making some bad choices in a dangerous and difficult situation. Which is really at the heart of the role Angel usually plays in the story.

And they are all! So much fun! Chainsaw guy is not a character I expected to like so much! And I love this Hun!! I kinda feel like the only reason for him being named Hun was to set certain expectations for us so they could subvert them, but honestly I'm here for it. I enjoy being surprised by a character being way nicer than I expected.

Are the Purple Dragons teens or adults though? It doesn't matter a super lot but I do want to be able to tell, especially since Casey is likely connected with them. Is Casey still an older role model for Angel? Usually Caseys are April's age but nothing in tmnt is ever set in stone. Casey's age is also gonna effect his/her dynamic with the turtles and I reallllly hope we do get Casey being close with them. I know rise Cassandra could've had a great dynamic with them if there'd been more seasons but if we have to make up Casey's friendship with them ourselves again I will be rather sad

If the Purple Dragons are teens close to the turtles age (which is the impression I got but I'm not confident in it), I would love to see their friendships develop with all the turtles, and (because I post about this all the time, I'm sure it's a question someone is asking,) I don't think I'd ship this Angel with any turtles regardless. That could change, I don't know her or them super well yet, but so far I don't see it. I might ship Raph with Hun though, which is not a sentence I ever thought I'd type ever in a million years

Anyways most of all I'm extremely super excited because!! Being the leader of the PDs and the dynamic they gave her with Hun I think we're gonna see a lot more of this Angel than we ever did for 03! Raph stole her bike so are definitely seeing her again XD (also didn't catch the new lady's name in spite of how many times they said it but Short Rich Lady using a teenage gang because the one thing she doesn't have is muscle is defs a villain I want to see more of, and I hope specifically her vs Raph)

And I was a little skeptical when she came in as The Boss who yells at her team, but she also does clearly want to protect them and I'm interested to learn more about her. I wonder if we'll get their backstory? Very big sister vibes which is so fun because Angel is usually very little sister vibes. I wonder if she'll have any fun parallels with Leo the way Hun did with Raph

Okay I need to actually watch more episodes before I say more which probably won't be till this evening but I had to say something about Angel I'm so excited I love her so much

[a-very-fond-farewell]

hi! hope this reply finds you.. eventually. I accidentally deleted your ask when I actually wanted to delete another one (sorry) but I was meaning to reply to a few people in a single post anyway and took provisional screenshots! so this was a lucky coincidence!

thank you for reading Children of the Red Dust! my pride and joy :D but since you know me from word of honor I.. kind of guess why you would be confused by my previous post about my “fandoms of interest”, as u say.

so, originally (I believe it was around either 2017 or 2018, cannot guarantee on that I’m afraid) this was a side-blog spurred from my need to compartmentalize and gush about my experience of re-reading a few of my favorite fics from the hobbit fandom. back then, in fact, I was in a slump and needed to pick myself up. so I decided to revisit fandoms who had brought me joy in the past, one of which was the bagginshield ship. hence a “nostalgia” blog!

coincidentally, one of the authors of a particular fic among those would have later on (in 2020) influenced my decision to try reading mdzs since they were considering writing a fic about it. they were (and still are!) one of my favorite fic authors, so I trusted them completely on that and that’s how I stepped into the world of danmei!

first it was the untamed, then winter begonia and finally word of honor, through which you have come to meet me :) isn’t that magical?

now. in regards of your second question.. thank you for letting me ramble about my new shiny interests! :D

so here’s a handy list:

1. hotd & r//haenicent :

oh, where do I start! that’s a tough one bc I’m mostly vibing in here?? like. don’t get me wrong, I love the show as it is and I do enjoy the lore behind it a great deal. I’m mostly absorbing the content and let it either shock me or impress me depending on what’s on screen. I do see the flaws but I honestly don’t care about them. I’m just vibing, as I said. but I do like to see people posting meta about the reasoning behind each character! and I love reading about the actors’ ideas behind their back stories and motivations!

my ship of choice is mostly based on the fact that I do like me some toxic-ladies-twice-divorced energy in the room and I should add that I haven’t probably been able to watch killing eve yet just so I could prepare my tastebuds with the hotd female leads first. I especially love the modern!au edits I’m seeing floating around and for now that’s enough to keep me from starving until the new season arrives.

2. the devil judge :

honestly, my focus would be gone on all planes of existence wasn’t it for @/amethystina’s fic (I don’t want to bother her with me tagging her on this, but do trust me and go read it bc it’s gonna change your life!) Who Holds The Devil. seriously, my anxiety has been so bad recently but there she glows, the most massive brain in the universe, bringing us frequent updates despite her busy schedule (and, apparently?? she wrote an entire 100k words fic in the strangers from hell fandom on a whim?? so if that’s your vibe you can go feast on that baby and have a fucking party while you’re at it. thank me later)

no but for real. it’s almost camp. almost. the drama, I mean. all it needs is a feathered boa and it checks out. outlandish villains that do be sounding a little too similar to IRL egotistical capitalist pigs, dangerous pretty ladies, rich bitches (Kang YoHan included), mysteries™️, boytoys and sassy teenagers. there are a few complains I have, ngl, but the vibes are immaculate imo. I would also offer, in a similar vein, kdramas like little women (a recent favorite of mine!), beyond evil (a classic at this point) and, on a bigger scale, the glory (which I have yet to watch, contrary to the first two).

3. helluva boss :

this one caught me off guard, ngl. I used to see it trending on tumblr often but thought it was just the most recent western brand of animation that people get hooked on for the witty dialogue and vaguely philosophical themes being explored (as u can see idk anything about these things, I thought it was similar to adventure time or smth, the fool that I was!). what I got instead was great animation and complex three-dimensional characters overall. now I’ve rewatched the entirety of the available episodes perhaps ten times. honestly, my anxiety really needed that.

as with hotd, I’m just vibing.. but I’m very engaged. I felt almost euphoric at the thought that animators and artists could just.. have fun with it? I’m sure there’s an enormous amount of work involved in the production of every single episode, so I’m just leaning back and enjoy the show. bad gays are hella entertaining and I’m here for it. coincidentally, around the same time I started actively watching the series I found out about a new queer short film that is being developed called the lovers! it’s gonna be a long wait but it’s gonna be worth it :D

4. don’t hug me I’m scared :

this was a fun one. when it first came out (idr when tho) I remember being very uncomfortable with the material. it reminded me of Flat Eric, a yellow puppet used in dance music videos of some artist or smth: it used to terrify me as a child and dhmis evoked the same reaction out of me in the beginning. but then I watched some video essay on the matter and I grew more accustomed to the feel of it and became interested in the though process behind it instead. first video I watched on the topic was about an interpretation of the show through an autistic perspective and the other was a.. I believe a 3 or 4 hours video making an overview on the whole lore behind it.

I’m not very interested in “finding out what does this all mean” or anything of the sort. I’m just here for the cosplays xD no but really, people are so inventive! and they make merchandise and dolls and drawings and full on costumes all on their own! that’s creative as fuck! and it’s unsettling and evocative at the same time. I’m baffled by everyone’s talents and I’m merely wishing to be as good as them ahah.

5. dune & the hunger games :

not sure how this happened. I have read the latter series but not the first, I don’t have time for that. but I can digest a movie or two and the visuals are very interesting to me! also I am a bene gesserit simp and I hate them and their ways in equal measure. idk why but that’s how it is. similarly, I want to see how the cast for the prequel of hunger games does! I’ve heard the lovely viola davis is in it and I’m thrilled to see her being unhinged :D

but mostly, I re-evaluated the entire hunger game trilogy by reading meta posts and fics exploring the story from different perspective in the past and this new movie reignited the interest for the time being, so I’m excited to give it a try! dune, on the other hand, is new for me and it’s helping me bond with my dad on our shared love for sci-fi. what’s not to love??

6. succession :

I’m honestly not sure about this one. I plan to look more into it but idk when I will have the time ahah. if nothing it will entertain me with rich people drama which is always obnoxiously fun to tap into when capitalism fucks me over one way or another. we will see!

thank you for letting me talk into the void xD hope you have a great day yourself!

[dootznbootz]

YOU.🫵👁👁 You get it.

(Tags by @throwawaybog)

Honestly delving into that, I read the whole "I sleep on a cloak on the floor of Eumaeus' house Don't remember exactly but yeah" and "I don't want to take a cot even though offered" when he's a beggar and instead sleeping outside as a weird "If I'm on Ithaca, I sleep in my goddamn bed or on the floor". Yes, he wants to listen to the suitors but??? He could've asked for another cot or something.

If he has that mindset, him letting her sleep in THEIR bed, if that's what he wants to be the only bed he sleeps on in Ithaca, he takes an answer. He lets HER have it despite wanting to be in it as well. He will only have their marriage bed if she's in it with him!!! I know that Ancient times while yeah, still sexist, weren't AS sexist as often portrayed. As just because a society behaves that way, doesn't mean every individual follows through. And it's most likely that there was respect for women in cases, I mean Odysseus himself understands he will scare Nausicaa and covers himself despite Ancient Greece being chill with nudity. AND also is the only dude who wanted Lesser Ajax stoned for what he did to Cassandra (like, dude's NOT a "feminist" by modern standards, Ancient Greece had slaves but he does respect women.) He still technically could've just taken the bed and made Penelope sleep in a cot or even just pulled a "Paris of Troy" and just told her, "Get in it."

Even AFTER she accepts him and he's all excited to get to smooching, she does a metaphorical "Grab him by the scruff" and is like "Yes, we'll get to smooching in a bit but what was that about a prophecy???" He didn't NEED to tell her, but he DID simply because she ASKED.skldjf s

HE CALLS HER A FUCKING KING!!!

From what I know, men back then did NOT call women by the masculine term as that's basically saying "Hey, she's the boss of me and I'm fine with that" as, you know, sexism. Even using the masculine term for things other than the king was considered basically calling yourself lesser than. "I'm just her boytoy" vibes. Or literally "Barbie is everything. He's just Ken."

“Lady, no man living on boundless earth could find fault with you. And your fame extends right up to spacious heaven, as it does for an excellent king who fears the gods and governs many courageous people, upholding justice. His black earth is rich in barley and in wheat, and his orchards are laden down with fruit. His flocks bear young and never fail, while seas yield up their fish— all this from his fine leadership. With him his people thrive."

(Johnston, Book 19)

Even when he wakes up to go see Laertes, he talks about how she doesn't need him to tell her what to do as she's so smart

"And this, my dear, is what I wish for you to do, though you are too wise to need my instructions."

(Rieu, Book 23)

I like the thought that he only told her "what to do" because she was kind of barely awake and she just grunts at him and curls back up in the blankets and he kisses her head before he leaves...Also that Athena was in owl form and was swooping down at his head to get his ass moving as he kept trying to snuggle and smooch because that's really fucking funny to me. "You can hang out more later, go see your fucking dad!"

She is the Water Wife™ and he is fucking THIRSTY

I saw something that said that if Odysseus had to choose between himself VS. Penelope and Telemachus he'd always choose himself. How he'd be miserable and he would try to weasel his way out of it but if it really was no other option he'd still do it and...

Odysseus is an incredibly selfish man, that's not wrong. And he definitely has his cruel streak. But his whole thing is his near-unconditional devotion and loyalty to his family while basically being a rat bastard to everyone else. He literally puts himself in danger for them multiple times, even just in their NAME multiple times.

But this is the same man who pretended to be INSANE for at least a MONTH so he wouldn't have to leave them. I guess you could say it's because he's a coward or because of the prophecy but if he didn't care he wouldn't have saved his son. But even with all that, to have a mad king? That leaves your kingdom vulnerable. There could've been a fucking usurping. Ithaca doesn't have much fertile land and yet he destroys some of it. Even then in some versions, it's him literally running to scoop up his baby, "hearing thundering hooves past his head". Putting himself in danger in multiple ways as SAVING HIS SON MEANT HE WAS GOING TO WAR. WAR ISN'T SOMETHING YOU CAN GUARANTEE THAT YOU'LL COME BACK FROM.

EVEN IN THEIR NAMES, HE PUTS HIMSELF IN DANGER FOR THEM. Calypso asks what is so lovely about his wife that makes him not want her, a beautiful goddess. Said goddess has been abusing him for years yet he still says that he will ALWAYS go back to them putting himself at risk just DEFENDING Penelope and he's literally dragged back to her grotto immediately after. He even tells her the only way he would stop trying to get to them is if he were dead.

He is deeply hurt by her rejection but even then HE ASKS FOR A SEPARATE BED. He calls her cruel and stubborn and he's tearing up but he never threatens her despite her rejection could literally end bad for him. Paris for example, after Helen rips into him about how Menelaus was the better man and warrior who didn't back down, he basically tells her "Hey! You should be happy your husband's alive! ...Get in the bed."

Like??? he puts them first often, even if it means his own discomfort!!!

I don't think he would let Penelope or Telemachus suffer so he would be free. That feels like the fucking Tele-GONE-y to me. You can keep his "rat bastardness" there because if he was for example, being dragged to Hades or something, he'd give Penelope a look and they'd probably have a plan for him to get out ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ He's sometimes said to be the son of Sisyphus. Who's to say he wouldn't do that as well? And if it was him "doomed to eternal damnation". He'd be trying the whole time to get back to them. (that'd...honestly be a perfect punishment for him.)

Idk, They're selfish about practically everything but each other

[itaitaita-ita]

MY OPINION ON NETFLIX’S “MAYA AND THE THREE”

OKEY! so for starters (i know that nobody asked for this) Hi everyone, my name is Mari and i’m a mexican girl with native roots so english is not my first language and i apologize in advance for any mistakes.

Lets start off with the overall: Its beautifully animated, it’s refreshing to see this type of stories and characters back on TV. The plot of the story is very interesting and hooking for the viewers, the characters designs overall are good (but i have somethings I want to point out, especially in the female designs). I really enjoyed the ‘Lucha Libre’ vibes that they gave out by presenting the opponents with a banner of their name.

Now, to the more specifics: the good and the bad.

THE GOOD:

Good interesting plot, gives me the vibes that it would make a good video game xd.

The representation of different features and skin tones is amazing!

The designs of the gods were my favorite.

The character development of Maya and how they portrayed the essence of each character despite having limited amount of episodes.

The accurate historical aspects and small details about their view on natural situations ( albinism, eclipses, etc ).

Lady MICTLEEE (mommy.. sorry- mommy? sorry-)

The spanish dub and the local phrases and jokes they use were incredible to see! specially the alburs here and there!

I liked the different Latin American accents each region had and the different cultures that were shown.

I think it was fun the correlation they created with the sun and the moon.

The backstories of the characters were amazing (and SUPER SAD WTF).

Despite not being a huge Zatz fan, i’m a sucker for enemies to lovers romance, so I really liked the trope.

The attention to details was GODLY i was so in love with it throughout the whole series.

THE BAD:

The female character designs ( focusing more on their physique) were a bit weird to me? the main female characters were either SUPER THICC: mini mini waist, gigantic hips, or like tall and skinny. (Except for the queen of the mages sorry if i’m not translating the names exactly, i know them in spanish only , which is also a bit backhanded since she’s supposed to be this annoying and immature ruler). Here’s what i mean:

The design of the clothes, makeup, hair and accessories is AMAZING. but.. the body types were a bit unsettling to watch, especially because the men have a wider range of physical designs and are overall more creative with their physique. also why were only male characters allowed to have big noses while all the female ones had itty bitty ones? Some examples:

ACAT ‼️ A C A T !!! I cannot expres enough how badly she was treated. She was only there for Zatz’s character (the female supporting role that enlarges the male one). She literally appeared, tried to kill Maya because Zatz “liked” her, gor dumped and 2 mins after she got killed. like. wtf. The crazy ex girlfriend trope (ew).

I was not a super big fan of how the concepts of ‘Good and Evil’ were pushed into the deities. There weren’t truly any ‘Evil’ gods, even if they represented war, or ruled the Mictlan. Its very characteristic of the Mesoamerican deities to not be good or evil (they weren’t even gods, but that’s for another post)— but i understand that view was needed to have a story and a plot and the whole Lucha Libre boss fights they had. So i’m willing to put it aside but it still should be mentioned.

The different regions were based in different mesoamerican groups and yet they were all ruled by aztec gods? just like the last point, i understand it simplifies things but i understand why people who aren’t mexican are a bit upset by this, since they are their own culture with their rich mythology.

I probably have more things to say buuut i have a terrible memory. Overall it’s really worth it and fun! and it’s refreshing to see this type of characters and cultures being portrayed like that. If you don’t agree with any of my points just be respectful about it, and remember this is my point of view and it’s not the only valid one :) !

[1kook]

espn & bdsm

this is part 6 of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.  warnings; smut (18+) in the forms of brief femdom, handcuffs, nipple clamps, blindfolding, flogging/use of a riding crop, soft dom kook, cunnilingus, spitting, unprotected but passionate, degradation, as always it starts horny n then turns into I love u kink miscellaneous; kook has a swollen ankle so idk how he did all this, jk abuses the fuck outta pet names part 7, revenge gone wrong tbh, this was honestly a beginner’s intro to vanilla bdsm word count; 12.7k

notes; this is like… a healing fic… for the part before lol. also i did not know what was going to happen next as I was writing. anyway entire smut scene was based off THIS bad boy ur welcome fellas and the Jungkook described here is from in the soop episode 2... cutie... yes every single 1 of those words is a link

lmk what you think! a simple ask goes a long way <3

You're at the nail salon with Doyeon when she first mentions it.

“Have you ever, like,” she pauses, making a vague, swivel gesture with her head. You furrow your brows and she sighs. “Topped him. Have you ever been the one to take control?”

Your nail artist blushes, furiously filing away at your nails until the most perfect stiletto shape stares you back in the face. “Oh. Not really,” you admit, wiggling your wet toe nails around in the styrofoam flip flops issued by the salon. “I mean, sometimes I talk him through it.”

Doyeon snorts. “Babe, talking him through it and being the boss are two completely different things,” she says rather dryly, seemingly unbothered by the fact your two nail techs are being subjected to this more than intimate conversation. But you’ve had weirder talks with Doyeon in public; this doesn’t phase you. “Listen,” she says suddenly, dropping her voice down to a whisper that has you leaning closer to hear her. “You know how I’m a member of that site, right?”

You nod. “Oh yeah— Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide!, right?” She kicks your shin, but the jab is muted by the bottom of her own styrofoam flip flop.

“Yeah, just tell everyone here my credit card number while you’re at it,” she hisses. Her anger fades soon enough. “Well, they’re always sending me all sorts of freebies for my devoted patronage,” she explains. She quirks her lips to the side, throwing one brief glance at the blushing nail artists in front of you. Eventually she seems to come to a conclusion. “Long story short they sent me some cuffs and I’m gonna give you them.”

Your jaw drops. “Woah, really? I don’t know… Don’t those usually run kinda pricey?” you ask tentatively. You’re trying to play it off, act like this isn’t something you want, but the reality is so much worse.

The minute the word cuffs had slipped through her lips it’s like a door opened before your eyes. A big, wooden door with chains strapped across it and a padlock you swore you’d never open.

Somewhere in your mind, you had always convinced yourself handcuffs in bed was something you’d like to have done to you. But, because she was your best friend and by extension a personified version of all your freakiest, often filtered, thoughts, it was like Doyeon had reached straight into your cranium and extracted your most secret fantasy— and that was Jungkook in handcuffs.

Your nail artist pats your hand, motioning you to head over to the drying station. Before you can be separated from Doyeon, you whip around to throw her one desperate look. “I have never wanted anything so bad in my life.”

She cackles loudly, easily garnering the attention of every employee and nail enthusiast in the salon with the evil witch vibes she exudes.

Truth be told, your argument with Jungkook had brought upon a newfound appreciation for him. Weird to say, considering you had wanted to kill the dude when it had originally happened. But the great thing about you and Jungkook was that you were flexible people— both in bed and out. A few long conversations later and you had reached the root of the problem.

And that root was your apparent lack of communicating when something was wrong. It was weird to think that anything could ever be wrong when Jungkook was involved. He was your honeybun, sugar plum, pumpy-umpy-umpkin. Your sweetie pie, for lack of better wording, and he could do no wrong—

—is what you’d like to say. But if there’s anything you’ve learned in the past year of dating Jungkook, it’s that perfection was a made up belief that revolved around the idea that someone’s flaws couldn’t possibly be a good thing. And as you’ve come to realize, Jungkook wasn’t the perfect gentleman you’d initially chalked him up to be. He was human, just like you, with his own list of worries and thoughts, and sometimes those thoughts manifested into flaws. They could be ugly or they could be beautiful, but at the end of the day, they all made Jungkook into the person he was— and you loved that person. Disgustingly so.

You had your moments, and he had his. Everything would not always be sunshine and rainbows for the two of you, but it was fine so long as you learned to play in the rain and stomp in the puddles.

Still.

You were you.

A slightly mean, slightly conniving, petty ass human who had been plotting his revenge since the day the two of you made up. I mean, you weren’t actually just going to let him get off the hook like that, were you? He had saved himself last time with a gooey, heartfelt apology and confession, followed by some extraordinary dicking down that had left you Naked and Afraid for three days after.

But you weren’t that easy! No, ma’am. You had to let him know that some gorgeous demon dick was not enough to satisfy you after a fight like that.

Jungkook was in for a desperately needed reality check, one that jingles in your purse when you step out of the Uber that drops you off at his place. You know he’s home because his front light is on, and also because he’d texted you that he was watching some soccer match on tv tonight. He’s a pretty big fan, especially of the club playing tonight, so you decide it’s a perfect night to strike.

Your copy of his key slips right into the keyhole. Your slippers are in the same place they always are, neatly set off to the side right by the stairs. He’s not in his living room, undoubtedly the most perfect place to watch any type of sporting event with that huge Jumbotron of his. The damn thing made it feel like you were in the stadium itself.

There’s a quiet hum coming from upstairs. You creep up the steps, carefully rounding the corner at the landing until you’re staring right into his dimly lit bedroom.

The way Jungkook’s got his bedroom set up is so that you can look directly at his door from the bed, terribly inconvenient for when that sleep paralysis demon hits in the middle of the night and you’re left staring into the dark hallway. He’s snuggled comfortably over his sheets, about three pillows supporting his back. The light of the tinier, more acceptable television he keeps in his room is dancing across his features in bright shades of green. You almost throw yourself onto his mattress like a starfish until you spot the carefully placed foot on the bed.

“What the hell did you do?” you blurt. A wrong move, considering he hadn’t seen you yet and your sudden appearance makes him jump nearly ten feet into the air, almost knocking down the bag of ice that sits on his ankle. “Oh my god, it was that damned Pilates class, wasn’t it?” you fret, rounding the bed until you’re on his side.

“Oh hey,” he says as if you’re not currently pulling the first eight seasons of Grey’s Anatomy to the forefront of your head to treat him. “When’d you get here?”

“Cut the crap, who did this to you?” you ask, sitting beside him with the utmost care. You drop your bag off to the side, the loud clatter of the inside contents vaguely registering in your head. The ice pack comes off easily, revealing a relatively okay looking ankle save for the slight swell towards the more medial aspect of it.

Jungkook takes the moment to sit up, joining you in your inspection of his injury. “No one,” he answers, using his new position to drop a kiss against the side of your head. “I fell off the ladder helping Mrs. Jung across the street.”

You choke. “You fell off a ladder?” you squawk, eyes wide as your gaze shifts from his ankle to his entire body.

He places a hand on your shoulder, “babe, I was on like the third step. It was one of those old wooden ones,” he explains with a nonchalant shrug. “The step just happened to snap on my way down.”

You scoff. “That old lady is out to get you,” you warn him. “Remember the time she almost had you plug in those burnt out Christmas lights for her? The ones that would have electrocuted you to death.”

Jungkook laughs, settling back into his stack of pillows. “In her defense, she’s old,” he offers. He’s wrapped up in a black hoodie, fluffy bangs parted down the middle. He’s got on some blue shorts, a huge difference from his usual dark-toned clothing. He looks so good and warm, and you’re suddenly hit with the fact you can’t possibly handcuff this poor, injured angel to his bedpost and ride his cock into the sunset. “You didn’t tell me you were coming over.”

You deflate, wild fantasies thrown out the window. “Yeah, well,” you sigh, ditching your pants and climbing over him until you’re snuggled into his side. “Wanted to show you my nails.”

It’s a lame excuse. But he buys it, so.

“They’re cute,” he says, taking your hand in his. He turns your hand over, inspects your pretty new acrylics like he actually has any idea how much they cost or how sexy they look. He raises your hand to his face, pressing a smooch against your knuckles that has you heart thumping embarrassingly loud in your chest. God, you hated this fool.

You turn your nose up at him, like you’re some snooty rich girl who couldn’t give him the time of day. Except it’s not like that, and Jungkook knows.

“What’re you watching?” you ask instead.

He’s got that stupid dopey smile on you, the one that takes one nudge against his side to snap him out of. “Ah, just the game.”

You squint at the screen. “Is this Fox Sports?” you ask in disgust.

He pinches your side. “This is ESPN,” he corrects. “And you don’t know shit about sports channels,” he points out. “So sit this one out.” You give in with a huff, cuddling closer into his side while trying to jostle him as little as possible. Jungkook seems to have no deeply rooted concerns about his injured ankle if the way he hauls you into his arms is any indicator. “How did nails with Doyeon go?”

“You know, the usual,” you respond, idly toying with one of the strings on his hoodie as your eyes focus on the little figures running across the screen. He hums, gesturing for you to elaborate. “Talked about sex, how much better than you at life she is, some more sex.”

He scoffs at that. “Doyeon is not better than me, and I have a whole trophy case to prove it.”

“Okay, but have you singlehandedly Twitter beefed with an entire sorority in your freshman year of university and won?”

He frowns. “No.”

You give him a look, one that says stand down now unless you want to lose to my best friend and get your feelings hurt. Jungkook understands. “Anyway,” he announces, turning his attention back to the screen with you. You think his team might be winning—you vaguely remember seeing him wear a similar jersey once—so he’s pretty relaxed for now. “They’re doing pretty good considering they just lost their main striker.”

You have no idea what that means. “Who? Messi?”

Jungkook knows you don’t know. “He doesn’t even play in this league,” he explains anyway.

“Oh, I saw him trending on Twitter last week. Thought he died or something. Whole time it was just a bunch of soccer nerds crying about him leaving his team.”

He laughs. “You should be a sportscaster,” Jungkook decides after your ever-so-eloquent recap, tucking his head cutely against your shoulder. There was a study once that claimed the incessant need to squeeze a baby’s cheeks or hug puppies tightly was actually the innate human response to kill something they felt threatened by. Oddly enough, you find yourself thinking of that as Jungkook’s citrusy shampoo floods your nostrils.

“Oh, speaking of Doyeon,” he says suddenly. “Did you give her my address? I got a weird package from that store she likes that I genuinely don’t remember ever ordering.” You frown, sitting up slightly until you can look at the side of his face, the cute mole on his cheek calling your name.

“What?” you ask. “Was it in her name?” Jungkook nods. You’re about to tear the roof off his house and go hunt that evil wench down when realization dawns on you. “Oh, no, yeah I gave her your address. My mom stayed over last weekend and Doyeon needed to order something nasty. Guess it got delayed until now.”

Jungkook nods and then doesn’t say much else, which is weird considering the circumstances. You expected him to gently scold you for carelessly giving the psycho that was Kim Doyeon his address, but she’s been here a few times to pick you up, even came over for beer night once. She probably knew it anyway, but you still expected some type of reaction of disapproval from him.

Something’s off, and you know better than to leave it at that. You poke his cheek, right where that mole you’d been eyeing was. “Did you open her package?” you ask, grin slowly consuming your features at the fact Jungkook was apparently a mail snooper.

He looks away. You laugh. “Oh my god, you did,” you cackle, sitting up beside him to get a good look at the blush growing on his cheeks. “What did you see?”

“Nothing,” he huffs, pretending to be overly invested in his soccer match again, but that ship died the moment you stepped into his room. “Babe, I can't see the match.”

You roll your eyes, purposefully shifting in front of him so he’s forced to look at the maniac look in your eyes. “What did you see, Jeon Jungkook, and are we going to steal it from her again?”

His cheeks bloom impossibly darker at that. “No!” he coughs, pointedly avoiding your gaze.

But your curiosity is at its peak now, his reactions only exacerbating it. You grab him by the shoulders, hands balling the material of his hoodie as you give him one firm shake. “What did you see,” you demand.

“Oh my god,” he gives in. You release him and he flops back onto his pillow mountain. “They were things,” he explains slowly, cheeks rosy. “For your, y’know,” a vague gesture over his chest.

You frown. “A bra?” you guess. “I’m not gonna lie, Kook, think I just lost a little respect for you.”

“No!” he huffs. “They were… little clamps. For your nipples.”

If this was a cartoon, you’re almost certain you’d be that character with the object in question in their eyes, heart fluttering in your chest at the words that leave his mouth.

Immediately, two things become obvious to you.

One, Kim Doyeon was a bigger freak than you’d expected who obviously dabbled in an assortment of trades. Clamps, your brain screams, overwhelmed with the image that appears in your head, the one that has a shiver running straight to your core. You would have to thank her for this gracious, unintentional gift she’s bestowed upon you.

Two, you’re gonna have to write her the best, most plausible apology letter tomorrow when you inform her those clamps have been lost in the mail, never to be seen again. Or you could just straight up tell her you snatched them up the moment you found out what they were, but you doubt that’ll go over well.

Jungkook groans. “You have that look in your eye,” he points out. You snap your attention back to him. “And I just wanna say in advance that I don’t think i can give you the fun night you deserve, baby,” he apologizes, motioning towards his still swollen ankle.

Something distinctly mean switches on inside of you.

You flash him a sweet smile that has him letting down his guard. You lean forward, pressing a soft peck to his cheek as you climb down the bed towards your forgotten purse that’d been resting on the floor until that point. “Who said I needed you to have fun?” you throw over your shoulder, carefully slipping Doyeon’s first gift close to your body so he won’t see.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed look. “Really,” he says dryly, “you think you can have fun without me?” He almost sounds cocky, as if the idea of you even enjoying yourself the teensiest bit without his help seems unfathomable.

You grin, padding over to his bedside, where you carefully pick up his hand. You mirror his actions from before, pressing a sweet kiss against his knuckles that makes that conceited look slip off his features for a second, eyes soft.

Click.

Jungkook frowns. “What the—“ before the sentence can leave his mouth you’re lunging forward, wrestling his hands above his head, until they’re both secured at his headboard by the soft cuffs Doyeon had given you that afternoon at the salon. Jungkook’s wide eyes stare back at you, briefly leaving to glance up at the silver chain that wraps behind one of the rungs of his headboard. “Babe,” he says slowly. “What the fuck.”

You beam at him, leaning down to snatch a pillow from beneath him so he’s better positioned, leaning back more. “So cute,” you gush, taking in the way his raised arms have the hem of his hoodie lifting at the waist. There’s a faint trail of hairs around his belly button that disappear beneath the elastic of his shorts. “Do you like them?”

Jungkook blinks. “Baby,” he says a second time, much slower and a little too calm for your liking. It almost gets swallowed by the roar of the fans on TV. “What is this?”

You ignore him, scampering around his room until you find the hot pink Sexuality Unleashed packaging peeking out from beneath his bed. Sure enough, it’s in Doyeon’s name but his address. A whole complicated mess just for some nipple clamps she’ll never see again. It’s what’s inside anyway, not that you thought Jungkook was lying, but there’s something about the actual, carefully wrapped packaging that makes your heart and pussy flutter.

“Oh! Aren’t these the prettiest things?” you exclaim, whirling around to where Jungkook is shaking up a storm with his cuffs, pout growing on his features the longer you leave him there. The ice pack slips off his ankle, falling onto the comforter beside him from all his movement.

Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit interested in the silver nipple clamps in your hands, too busy trying to free himself from the sudden trap you sprung on him. “Sweetheart, we can play with those tomorrow, alright?” he tries, relaxing his arms and finally looking your way. There’s a frustrated furrow to his brows, one you rarely see but adore very much. “Just undo these cuffs for me, yeah?”

You tilt your head to the side, placing a hand on the inside of his calf that you trail all the way up as you move to stand beside his hip. His thighs flinch at your touch, tensing when you stop just before the crotch of his pants. “Mmm, don’t think so,” you smile, dropping the thin chain beside him.

Your shirt goes first, peeled over your body until you’re left standing in your bra. It’s nothing too special this time, just your average run of the mill comfort bra hugging your chest. But that doesn’t really matter, especially not with the way you’re hoping things play out tonight. You’d discarded your jeans a few moments prior, so the shirt joins them on a pile on his floor.

As much as he tries to act irritated by your refusal to release him, there’s a slow stirring beneath his shorts. It’s emphasized by that bright blue material, cock swelling as he watches you take off your clothes. “Baby,” he warns, possibly for the last time. But you won’t know unless you push some more, you tell yourself, placing one knee on the edge of the bed, the other thrown across his lap.

“Wow,” you marvel, picking the chain up once more. Jungkook shifts beneath you, half hard cock brushing against the cleft of your cheeks. “Don’t you wanna see what it’s like, Jungkookie?”

He says nothing, watching you with solemn eyes that leave no room for reading him. Behind you, the game commentator is chattering up a storm.

Doesn’t matter, especially not when this flimsy metal had you so completely hypnotized. You reach behind yourself, unsnapping your bra with one fluid motion that has the cups falling onto your lap, soft chest on display for the man before you. Your breasts spill out slowly from their cage, pretty hardened buds slowly coming into his view. They make him pause his fussing, half-lidded gaze falling to the swell of your chest hungrily. His hands jerk, the cuffs doing their job of keeping them there.

You grin, placing a hand on his chest, over his hammering heart. “Do you wanna see me wear them?” you croon, tugging the material of his hoodie up his stomach, until your thighs are sitting directly on his tiny waist, thin thong just over his belly button. You trail your hand up, letting it brush up the side of his neck and bury into his scalp. You give an experimental tug that has his eyes squeezing shut. “Yes or no, Jungkookie?”

He’s being a huge brat for you, eyes scrunched up together like the sight of you enjoying yourself sans his touch is unimaginable. Another tug of his hair and he’s exhaling shakily, a quiet, “yes,” slipping past his lips.

The chain drops onto his chest with a quiet thud, shocking him enough to blink his eyes back open. Releasing your hold on his hair, you sit back on his lap, towering over his fidgety body like a goddess at a temple, him the lowly worshipper beneath you.

Your hands crawl over your body, starting somewhere around your waist. The glide up over your tummy, caress the underside of your breasts teasingly. Sure Jungkook knew your body well, but you knew your body best. One hand rubs teasingly over your breast, palm pressing down slightly against where your nipple lies, while the other drops down between your thighs, slowly grinding against your mound.

“Look, Jungkookie,” you gasp, body twitching at your own hands. You take a hardened nub between your fingers, rolling it back and forth until it’s standing at its peak. “I can do it without you,” you tease, rolling your hips against him slowly. The thin material of your thong does nothing to save you from the delicious swell of his cock against you. “F-Fuck,” you whimper, circling a finger over your clit. “It’s, it’s even better.”

His restraints jiggle against the bed frame, an obvious look of distress crossing his features. “No,” he huffs out a whine, tugging at the cuffs as you slowly unravel on his lap. They don’t give, no matter how much he pulls. You know he’s holding back, afraid of damaging his headboard, and you take advantage of the fact as you move to roll both nipples between your fingers. He groans harshly, jaw tight. “Hate you,” he hisses, hips wiggling beneath you. “Hate you, hate you.”

You breathe out an airy chuckle. “R-Really?” you ask, trembling hands finally reaching back for that second gift of the day. Your breath is shallow, so thoroughly wound up from your own playful hands, and you tremble at the mere brush of the cool metal. “Oh fuck,” you whimper, bringing them up to your chest, “I’ve never done this before,” you confess.

There’s a sense of amazement that consumes you at the thin chain you hold in your hands, the pretty gold painted clamps on each end. It makes you shiver, body unconsciously grinding down against Jungkook’s lap where his engorged cock was fighting against the material of his shorts.

“Then let me help you,” he tries, the childish tone from before melting into his usual silky smooth baritone. Jungkook even softens his gaze at you, let’s his tongue peek out to wet his lips as you almost seriously consider his request.

Had it not been for the sudden loud shout from the sports commentator behind you, a long obnoxious gooooooaaal, you probably would have fallen victim to that honey-eyed gaze. You would like to personally thank every loud-mouthed, ESPN commentator out there for saving you from Jungkook’s dangerous seduction skills.

Without a second thought, you bring one of the little camps close to your chest, giving it a few experimental squeezes until the nerves are replaced with an overwhelming wave of horniness that even Jungkook can sense. “Fuck,” he groans, shaking his restraints back and forth like a wild animal as you slowly get to clamping your left nipple.

You’re not sure what you expected; part of you had thought it was going to be an excruciating pain, one that would make you want to scream and shout in sheer agony. The other part had reduced it to a barely there pinch that would never live up to your fantasies. As it stands, the sensation of the clamp around your swollen nipple sits right in between, drawing in a choked gasp that makes your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“Baby, sweetheart,” Jungkook gasps alongside you, eyes zeroed in on the pinched off bundle of nerves. There’s a sudden grinding sound that fills the air, like the sawing off of wood that definitely doesn’t sound good, and it’s a direct result of the fight he puts up against his headboard. “Please, please,” he begs, muscled arms tugging back and forth. “I have to touch—“

The second clamp goes on, making your entire back arch as if you were possessed. You're not, just extremely overwhelmed by the prickle of pain on your tits that makes you grind down against his cock, hands fisting the front of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you right now. “Oh,” you shudder, thighs quivering at the heightened stimulation you receive from the clamps sitting on your nipples. “Kook, I-I can’t.”

He growls, hips bucking beneath you in a crazed effort to better situate you on his lap. “You gotta take these off me,” he rasps out. The next buck of his hips makes the chain dangling between your breast brush dangerously close to his face. He’s unintentionally goaded on by the TV in the room, the annoying drone of the commentator shouting something about never giving up. “Can make you feel so much better, sweet girl,” he cooes, jutting his head out like he needs a kiss.

Your head feels woozy, pussy throbbing at the sensations being channeled down into your core. Your eyes flutter shut, and before you can think it through, you're blindly reaching for the chain, giving it one light tug that has you mewling like a kitten. “O-oh, fuck,” you sob, looping your finger around the thin chain carefully. Another tug that pulls against your nipples sends a gush of wetness down between your thighs. “Cock,” you slur dazedly, “need your cock.”

Jungkook shudders out a long breath. “Le-Let me go then, sweetheart,” he chokes out, “let me fuck that pretty little pussy for you.”

“Uh uh,” you disagree, bringing another angry buck out of him, metal cuffs rattling loudly. “Want you to watch,” you pant, reaching behind you for his shorts. “Watch me, Jungkookie.” It takes three tries for you to get a grip, the elastic material slipping from your fingers before you finally gain some semblance of control and paw them down . The shorts and the boxers came off together, his engorged cock springing up to tap against your ass. “W-Watch,” you repeat dazedly, leaning forward with one hand on his shoulder to line him up with your dripping hole. Behind you, the commentator is droning on about core balance or something of the sort. It takes two tries as you blindly have to tug your panties to the side as well, and just as you have his fiery red tip against your entrance, something else happens.

He catches you, pearly teeth biting down on the chain that connects your clamps in a motion you can only liken to a bloodthirsty shark jumping out of the water, jaws snapping to catch its prey. It dangles in his face, the same way his own necklaces have done to you so many times before. But the difference between you and Jungkook was that while you let his assortment of necklaces hypnotize you, drag across your face painfully, he doesn’t. He snaps forward, catches it between his teeth.

You mewl loudly, foggy vision turning onto him. Jungkook’s got this unreadable look on his face, likes he’s pissed off and turned on all at once. “You’re not in charge,” he murmurs around the chain, the s and c sounds all slurred together. “You will never be in charge, silly girl, you got that?” he spits, yanking his head back like an animal, pulling your upper body with him by the two golden clamps on your nipples.

There’s tears in your eyes, lining your waterline and threatening to fall with each tug his mouth gives against the chain of your nipple clamps. He’s got his neck craned back as far as he possibly can with a pillow beneath him, chain links digging into his bottom lip. “Y-Yes,” you sob, your entire body quivering at the way he so easily manages to overthrow you, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, solemn eyes flickering across your twisted features once more. He gives another purposeful tug, head snapping back just the tiniest bit, but it’s enough to tug you forward again, a loud whimper torn from your throat. “Undo these cuffs for me, sweet girl,” he commands softly, jiggling the same restraints he’d spent the better part of fifteen minutes fighting against.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper, hands wildly slapping down on his bedside table. You had had half the mind to leave the key there when you had retrieved the cuffs, telling yourself it would be easy access afterwards. It’s not, apparently, the silver pick falling just out of reach. For some reason— it’s probably the sensitivity and horninesss, the pinpricks of pain that originate from your nipples —this fact frustrates you to the point of tears.

“Easy, doll,” Jungkook talks you through, voice low and soft beneath you, “relax and grab it for me, okay?” You nod, angrily blinking away a tear that drips down your face. It splatters on Jungkook’s cheek, bringing a soft huff of amusement from him.

Finally the key brushes your hand, and you sigh in relief, shakily leaning forward to undo the lock above his head. He releases his killer chomp/grip on your chain just as you release his cuffs. “I-I’m sorry,” you sniffle, a sudden need to apologize as you watch him rub at the raw skin around his wrists. “I didn’t—“

“Shhh,” he says, cuddling you into his chest. “It’s alright,” he says simply and you believe him.

Which ends up being a terrible mistake exactly ten seconds later when he’s shoving your face into the sheets, your cries and whimpers muffled by the sounds of the game on TV as he winds your arms behind your back. You struggle for all of five seconds before a soft click resounds from behind you.

“Did you think I’d just let that slide, sweet girl?” he growls against your ear, hot breath fanning across your skin. “I'm not your dog, __,” he spits, suddenly yanking you up by your cuffed wrists. Your chest is heaving, arms aching from the way he’s got you on your knees, blind to whatever he’s doing behind you. “Don’t lock me up, because I’ll always come back to bite.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you stammer, flinching when a hand snakes around your waist, an experimental tug to the chain of your clamps. It sends a shudder down your spine, amplified by the hot press of his body behind you. “I won’t do it again!”

“I know you fucking won’t,” he laughs meanly, trailing his hand down over your mound. One finger circles your clit through your underwear, a shaky sigh exiting your lips at the jarringly light touch. “Because I’m gonna fuck you until you’ve learned your lesson, silly girl.”

“I said sorry,” you whimper, thighs quivering. His cock brushes up against you, the same cock you were about to ride until the sunset. Oh how the tables have turned.

A hand slips beneath your underwear, pad of a finger rubbing against your swollen clit. “Oh,” you exhale, surprised with the suddenly gentle touch following his words. “Th-That’s nice,” you murmur, head lolling forward at the slow rhythm he sets, playing with you like you were a toy that needed warming up.

“Yeah?” he husks out. There’s a yank to your clamps that makes you gasp, chest following the motion as if it’ll reduce the shock. “You think this is about making you feel nice?” he murmurs. Another tug, followed by another, until he’s raining down a series of rhythmic shocks onto your tits that make you shiver and twitch, tongue heavy in your mouth to the point you feel like you’re drooling.

“Wait,” you whimper, arms twisting behind you. “Hurts, hurts” you cry, arching your back like it’ll save you from the steady stimulation against your rock-hard nipples.

“Does it?” Jungkook hums, one hand working away at your clit. He swirls it around his finger, pressing down on the nub in an attempt to distract you. But it only heightens the sting coming from your breasts, the blossom of pain that grows over each mound the longer he plays with you. “Good. Want your pretty little body to hurt for me, baby.”

Right after saying that he releases the grip on your chain, letting it swing back and forth until it eventually rests on your stomach, throbbing nipples spared for now. A breath of relief washes over you now that you only have to worry about the hand playing along your folds. The TV is still flickering to your right, but the commentator's voice sounds fuzzy and so far away, like he’s in a whole different dimension while you and Jungkook are here.

Your reprieve lasts shorter than you expected, as his free hand slowly begins creeping up your waist, fluttering over the little gold clamps pinching your nipples. “Pretty girl,” he compliments, nudging one tender nub with a playful finger. “Pretty, pretty baby,” Jungkook murmurs as he begins massaging the scorching hot skin around your nipples gently. There’s a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder, followed by a trail up the side of your neck. You shudder, trying to focus on the hand that creeps down your folds, teases itself against your entrance.

“Jungkook,” you whine softly, rolling your head to the side so he can suck bruise after bruise onto your skin. You’re definitely drooling, the saliva thick and heavy in your mouth. “T-Too much.”

“Thought you wanted that,” he mumbles, kissing up and up until he’s at your jaw and then he’s at your mouth, languidly kissing you. He’s doing that thing again where he’s hellbent on drowning you in his spit, and if you didn’t know better you’d think he was preparing you for something. “Wanted me to watch you bounce that tight little cunt on me while your tits were like this,” he says, punctuating his statement with a light slap against the side of one breast. It makes you jump, a moan catching in your throat.

The finger that had been playing meanly along your wet folds eases itself past your lips, plunges head first into the aching heat inside of you. He works it against your walls, thumb over your clit as he curls his finger inside of you. You moan loudly, shaking in your restraints. The hand over your chest squeezes, pushes the clamp deeper against your breast until your entire body is short-circuiting.

Your first orgasm comes over you with all the grace of a lightning bolt; it’s sudden and jerky, has every nerve ending wildly spasming as you whimper his name. “No more, no more,” you beg, head lolling back against his shoulder. He shows you no mercy, simply rubs furiously over your clit, until you’re jerking into his maniac hand.

When it’s over, he places a kiss against your jaw, curling his finger inside once more “Play with yourself,” he whispers.

“H-Huh?” you stutter, the rattle of your cuffs loud in both your ears, but not as loud as the breath you were trying to catch post-orgasm. You wonder if maybe he got ahead of himself again—he occasionally did that, thinking ahead to a point you hadn’t reached in your normal progression of sex —but suddenly he’s shoving you back down again, the finger that was slowly driving you insane rudely exiting your cunt.

You flop down against the mattress with a squeal, wiggling around like you actually had a chance of doing anything with him watching you like he is. You struggle for a few beats, every shift against the mattress rubbing harshly against your breasts until you nearly want to cry.

Just as you reach that point, he’s rolling you into your back, hands uncomfortably bent beneath you. It leaves you unwillingly arching to accommodate them, tits practically presented for him to see. “Pretty girl,” Jungkook groans, reaching down for the first time that day to touch himself.

His self restraint was truly unmatched, you realize, watching him squeeze the base of his cock. He runs a palm over his abdomen, up his chest. He drags the material of his hoodie along with it, eventually shucking it off somewhere to the side. His hair, so fluffy and soft, flops over his forehead, a few defined strands tickling his eyebrow.

The mere sight of him alone made you shiver, pussy clenching at the wet dream before you. He’s not an idiot either, obviously aware of what the sight of his body does to you, the tattoos littering his entire right arm that hypnotize you. The faint glow of the TV screen against his side makes him look like the cover star of every middle-aged wife’s erotic romance novel. He reaches said arm down, runs a hand along your thigh until you’re spreading them wide for him.

He doesn’t touch you like you want, only slides over your body until he’s toying with the chain of the nipple clamps that were slowly becoming the bane of your existence. “Open,” he says suddenly, and you do. Your mouth drops open, tongue stuck out slightly even if you don’t know why. He’s ingrained the response into you by now, made you into a desperate slut always ready for anything in your mouth.

This time it’s the stupid, stupid chain connecting your nipple clamps. He tugs it until it’s pulled up, the pull against your nipples making you whimper and writhe. The metal is cool when it touches your lips, but his fingertips are warm. “Good girl,” he praises once you bite down; even this sends a shock of nerves down your spine and to your pussy. “Just like that.”  

A muffled whimper escapes your lips, tears clouding your vision at the stimulation that was quickly overwhelming you again. Part of you thinks no more, please, I can’t. But the other has you spreading your legs for him, quivering pussy desperate to be filled.

The distress must be obvious in your face if the way Jungkook kisses your neck is any indication. He’s got one hand massaging against the underside of one breast, like he’s soothing the striking pain of your pinched nipples for you. If anything, it only strings you along more. “Stupid baby,” he chuckles meanly, a soft puff of laughter against your jaw, “thinking she could push me down.”

He leans back onto his knees, that same careful brush against the inside of your thigh bringing about an embarrassing whimper as he peels your thong away. “But you didn’t really want that, did you?” he eggs on, slowly shifting down against the bed, until his mouth is hovering over your exposed lower lips. His breath is warm, makes you yearn for him to be closer. “You like when I shove my cock into your little pussy, right? Like how it feels when I turn you into my little slut like this,” he sighs, pressing one chaste kiss against your thigh that makes you pull at the cuffs behind your back.

Soon, his mouth is on your clit, the same clit he had previously pampered with his hands but chooses to play with again. He licks an obscenely wet stripe from your throbbing hole to your clit, tongue curling devilishly towards the end. You whimper, though the sound is distorted around the chain in your mouth. Jungkook groans, dives mouth first into your cunt until he’s suffocating himself. His cute nose is pressed against your clit, and he takes advantage of the fact by taking one, dramatic sniff with his eyes rolled back. A soft moan escapes him.

“Fuck,” he shudders, “smell like heaven for me.” You moan at his sweet words, eyes squeezed shut as if that’ll stop the buckets of overwhelmed tears that you’ve been fighting off since the moment the clamps came on. “Wanna give you the world, angel,” he breathes, licking languidly against your folds, tongue occasionally peeking inside.

You mewl and writhe, every movement sending a tug of pain over your nipples. You want that gorgeous cock deep in your cunt, want to feel him in your womb, but you can’t voice any of this with the chain of the clamps between your lips.

Jungkook sits up suddenly, and you’re thinking yes, finally, before the look on his face has you screeching to a halt. There’s something distinctly different about him, a look you don’t think you’ve ever seen in bed before. Your thoughts are only confirmed when his foot slides onto the floor, as if he’s about to leave.

The panic must be evident on your face, because Jungkook is quick to swoop in and reassure you he’s not done with you yet. “Wanna fuck your little pussy,” he admits, carding a hand through your hair. “But the truth is I don’t think you deserve that just yet.”

With that he slinks off the bed, leaving you writhing in confusion as he heads off for the closet behind you. You can’t see what he’s doing, can only hear the shuffling of something back and forth. The TV is still on, the loud cheering of the fans muffling his clattering. You’re suddenly reminded of his swollen ankle, craning your neck to tell him to not overdo it, when something dark covers your eyes.

He’s standing just beside the edge of the bed, his signature teddy bear heat emanating off in waves so thick you could touch them. “Do you trust me?” he murmurs, voice close but not close to your ear.

Something swells in your chest, an emotion so intense your entire pelvis tightens up at the realization that Jungkook was asking for permission to blindfold you. You’re almost certain it’s one of his ties, a silky black thing that covers your vision for the most part, save for a little crack by where your nose juts out. A shuffle to your side, and then he’s gently prying the chain he had pushed past your lips earlier out. “Need an answer, ___,” he says quietly, almost nervously.

“Yes,” you gasp, your entire body set aflame at the sudden turn of events.

If you were being honest you would have never predicted your night would end like this. Maybe you came in a little too cocky, a little too optimistic for the night. It was supposed to be Jungkook handcuffed and powerless, you remind yourself— how on earth did you get here?

“Good girl,” he praises, giving you a little encouraging nudge to raise your head for him to actually tie the knot behind your head. It’s definitely one of his suit ties, you realize, because there’s a distinct cross-stitch pattern that you can feel only when it’s tightened against your skin, pressing against your fluttering eyelids. When he releases you, you’re suddenly all too aware of the sense he’s deprived you of.

“K-Kook?” you call out with a tremble in your voice. The rhythmic pattern of his footsteps rounds the bed again, and then there’s a soft touch against your leg.

“Right here, sweet girl,” he reassures you. The bed dips by your legs as he closes in on you, still tied up and on the verge of a second orgasm that he snatched away before your very eyes; not that you can see it anymore. His hand slides over your stomach, tugs playfully at the clamps. You moan, the sensation magnified tenfold by the fact you can’t see nor anticipate his actions now.

His hands glide like two sailing boats over the broad expanse of sea that is your body, molding against your curves like waves as they go. He hums appreciatively, and you find yourself glad you can’t see him. You can’t possibly imagine with what eyes he’s looking at you now.

You bask in the glory of his attention for another beat before he retracts his touch.

And then, suddenly, something distinctly not hand-like, and weirdly soft traces over the inside of your thighs. “Kook?” you ask tentatively.

No response.

It runs over your skin in the same way his hands just did, a unique shape your brain scrambles to put a name too. It’s soft, so soft. But cold to the touch. Inanimate for sure. It’s a toy, your brain supplies belatedly, but that much you already know.

It’s heart-shaped, you realize, just as it thwacks down against your pussy.

You shriek at the suddenness of it all, thighs clamping shut. Your heart is thundering at a pace of a rabbit’s, chest rising and falling as you blindly piece together what just happened.  “Kook?” you whimper a second time, head craning back and forth in a desperate attempt to track his next move.

He’s not touching you anymore, but the bed is still dipping by your feet, so you deduce he must be there. You test your theory by sliding your foot against the sheets, lower lip trembling at the idea of him not being there.

Jungkook catches your ankle with one warm palm, slightly calloused from years of weightlifting. He raises it up, the cold air of his room hitting your exposed pussy. “You liked it,” he says, not a question but an observation. Your pussy throbs, the phantom strike against it lingering. A kiss to your ankle.

“Wh-What is it?” you cry, unconsciously pressing your leg closer to him now that you have his location. (You don’t see the soft smile on his face at your action.) Ever so slowly you let your thighs open again, now anticipating the next touch of that thing— that riding crop, you realize.

Jungkook confirms. “It’s a riding crop,” he explains, excitement curling around his words. Suddenly, it returns, this time against your stomach. He doesn’t strike you like he did before, simply lets it run across your tummy. “Heart-shaped. It’s so pretty,” he sighs dreamily. “Reminds me of you.”

You nod anxiously, stomach muscles tensed the longer it stays there. Jungkook obviously sees this, lifting it to give you the lightest of taps that still manages to make you gasp. “Cute,” he laughs, trailing it back to where it first touched down.

“Oh,” you tremble, thighs twitching as it pats tenderly over your clit. “Wai-Wait,” you warn, body arching as he runs it down, down your swollen folds. “No,” you weep, going to close your legs. But Jungkook predicts your moves, pressing your thigh down harshly against the bed.

“Shh,” he soothes, tracing the heart down your folds, pressing it flat against you. There’s a distinct lining over it that makes your hips jump, a faux-velvet covering the tip that tickles your skin. “Sit still for me.”

“No!” you gasp. Your back arches, body betraying you as it pushes your pussy against the toy. “I can’t, I can’t, Kook,” you sob, lips contracting around the gaping nothingness in your hole.

He condemns your attitude with a harsh swat of the riding crop against your cunt, tearing another high-pitched squeal from your lips. It’s followed by another against your clit that makes your body spasm. “Bad,” he chides. “Supposed to be my perfect girl.”

“I c-can’t,” you whine, the darkness over your eyes making the sensations ten times more intense. You don’t know where he or the riding crop are if they’re not directly touching you. Even then, the image is fuzzy in your head. “Need you,” you pant.

You try to reach for him, try to pull him into your arms. But you’re reminded of the cuffs holding you back, the metal digging into your skin behind you. You sob at the realization, angrily shaking your hands back and forth like maybe acting like a tantrum-throwing child will save you. It doesn’t.

Instead there’s a tug at the chain resting on your stomach, one that makes you cry out in pain when it pulls at your terribly sensitive nipples again. Jungkook uses it to pull you close, just a small inch off the bed that has you gasping for breath nonetheless.

“N-No,” you wail, nipples throbbing from all the sensations you’ve put them through tonight.

A chaste peck against your trembling lips. “Tell me how it feels,” he purrs, nose brushing against yours. Even with the tie obstructing your vision, the latest version of your boyfriend burns itself into your eyelids, force feeding you his sweaty skin and damp hair until even his breath against your face is enough to bring you to the edge.

“I-It’s scary, Kook,” you sniffle, listening for any signs of a reaction. But even if he did show one, your breathing is too loud and the ESPN channel is still blaring on screen. “Scary,” you whimper, lunging forward in a desperate move to feel the familiar brush of his tongue against yours. You miss.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks carefully, like he’s afraid he’s pushed too far.

He has. But fuck, do you love it.

“No,” you wail, lips smushed somewhere along his cheek, near his jaw and not his mouth like you wanted to. “Feels good, feels so fucking amazing,” you babble, cut off halfway through by a hiccup from your sad cries. “Wanna cum, wanna cum for you like this.”

Jungkook chuckles in relief, tilting his head until you can catch his lips with yours. It’s probably an awkward angle you assume, him adjusting for your vision-less whims, but it feels so good. It sends a shock to your pussy, his plush lips against yours. Without him telling you, you’re opening your mouth for him. “Spit on me,” you beg pitifully.

Jungkook groans, and you can almost visualize the look on his face perfectly— the tensing of his jaw, the push of his Adam’s apple, the pucker of his lips. “God, you’re disgusting,” he sighs, a fat glob of spit hitting the back of your tongue. Without your vision, you don’t see it coming, recoiling with a whiny mewl. The thin trail of saliva that follows trails across your chin when he finally reels back. You swallow greedily, wondering how soon is too soon to ask him to do it again.

With your full permission to move forward, Jungkook wastes no time trailing the riding crop over your wet folds, collecting your oozing pre-cum on the tiny heart as he roves it over your cunt. “Fuck, you can probably cum like this too, can’t you?”

You can’t answer, too caught up in the featherlight brushes. Even if you wanted to say something, one sudden strike against your pussy renders you speechless. “Mmh!” you hiss, biting down on your lip.

“Come on,” Jungkook encourages, resting a hand on your thigh. He presses the crop against you again, pushes down until the flat apex of the heart where it meets the flexible stem of the toy is pressing against your cunt hotly. He grinds it down against you, takes a sick pleasure in the pathetic way you arch up into it, rut against the little heart like it can provide even half the pleasure his hands usually would. “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

Your body is on fire, every nerve, every sensation shooting straight to your most erogenous areas— your cunt and your nipples. Talking seems like the farthest thing from your mind right now, too caught up in the way he roughly pushes the crop against your clit. A whimper rips itself from your throat, shuddering at the sensation. Unconsciously you jerk away from him, only to be scolded with another thwack against your quivering pussy lips. “A-Ahh,” you wail, squirming beneath him like a worm that can’t sit still. “Good— it feels good, Jungkookie,” you weep.

The soft mushy pet name has him raining down two snacks against you in quick succession. “No baby names,” he warns, frown evident in his voice.

Even with you completely under him like this, shackled and blinded with your love, something unmistakably childish and obnoxious curls around your throat, has you biting down on a grin as the coil in your stomach tightens. “D-Don’t like that, Jungkookie,” you choke out hoarsely, wildly bold for someone in your position. “D-Don't like being m-my baby?”

The crop loses its position over your folds, and for a minute you’re left anxiously anticipating its next touch. 

It’s on the side of your breast, harder than the rest, combining with the already powerful pinch of the clamps. It makes you cry out painfully, stomach tightening at what is probably the most unexpected orgasm you’ve ever had. It isn’t like your usual ones that overpower you and make cum trickle out between your folds.

No, it comes in waves— literally. Your pussy spasms, pushes one splurt of cum out between your thighs, almost likes your lower lips are spitting it out. And then again, more the second time, against his mattress. He pushes your legs up to your chest to marvel at the cum coating your lips and thighs. “You’re my baby, stupid,” he hisses. He grabs at your clamps then, twisting the little chain in his hand harshly. You sob at the yank, at the way your nipples feel two seconds away from being ripped off. But you can’t even complain, because the sudden touch has your pussy clenching, before a final trickle of cum oozes out of you.

Even still, your mind babbles on. “N-No,” you choke, shaking back and forth. Despite the tie covering your eyes, they flicker like a mad man beneath it, like you’ll somehow get lucky and develop Seeing Through Fabric Ability if you try hard enough. “My, my baby,” you fight weakly, pelvis trembling from aftershocks of that orgasm. “My idiot b-boy,” you smile dazedly, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sting you’ve become familiar with by now. “T-Tell me, Jungkookie,” you croon, biting down on your lip to keep a moan from spilling out mid-syllable. “Still the same, r-right?” you stutter, “still think you’re better than me, don’t you?”

He scoffs. “No,” he vehemently denies, brashly landing an unexpected smack against your hip, no warning in sight. “That’s not true,” he defends. You can hear his pout, the little push of his lips when he grows defensive. 

You laugh, every bit the insane lunatic, fueled by your two orgasms and slipping sense of reality. “Ffffuck,” you whimper, rolling your hips up into nothing. “S-Say it again, baby,” you plead, tongue licking across your lips. “Tell me, tell me you don’t care about my problems, Kook-ah,” you whimper.

There’s a hesitant pause on his end, an unexpected lull in your play as he’s torn apart between doing what you want or playing it safe.

You know you’re confusing him, because you’re certainly confusing yourself. You don’t even bother trying to dissect your emotions— you’ve long since accepted your mind was a dangerous place when horny and presented with Jungkook’s sole attention. Well, you knew you were into the whole degradation bit, but this whole having-your-boyfriend-throw-the-words-that-made-you-question-your-entire-worth bit was certainly new and unexpected.

But there’s something in your heart (and in your libido) that needs this, needs him to fix this memory for you that maybe, kinda sorta, has haunted you for days, weeks now, as much as you hate to admit it. Needed him to fix the booboo he gave you with a bandaid, only leave a scar you could look back at and laugh off, not a gaping wound that opened at the slightest mention of it. Because while you forgave, you certainly never forgot*.

(*Unless forgetting meant having your boyfriend overwrite said memory that couldn’t be forgotten with the sheer power of his monster demon cock and wicked tongue. Only then could you forget.)

“Don’t be a fucking pussy, Jungkook,” you spit, feeling the hesitancy in the riding crop that brushes against your skin. It fades away quickly. “S-Say I’ve a dead-end office job; just holding you back,” you beg, trying to pretend the entirety of his little outburst hasn’t been ingrained into your mind for the last couple of weeks. Something flashes in your chest, throat closing off when the toy finally leaves your skin. “Tell me, tell me—“

He looms over you, teddy bear warmth covering the entirety of your body. “Is this what you want?” he asks seriously, lowly, breath fanning across your lips. Your makeshift blindfold feels distinctly damp over your eyes, chest heaving with an exertion that can only be emotional when he speaks so softly to you after routinely raining down brutal thwacks on you for the past half hour. “__,” he says sternly, “is this what you want?”

You gasp on a sob, unsure when these emotions had time to manifest outside your heart like this. You nod your head like a bobble head doll sitting on someone’s dashboard, lower lip trembling on a shameful cry that is not sex-induced like all the other ones until now. “I-I need this, Jungkook,” you admit, voice so tiny and soft, it almost gets drowned out by your shaky exhales and the crowd roaring on screen. “Need to overwrite it.”

He presses a soft kiss to your quivering lips, slow and so devastatingly loving. It’s nothing like the one from before where he’d spit down your throat per your request, and the unbridled adoration he packs into one simple kiss makes you crumble in his arms, sniffles piling on by the dozens.

He leans back after a moment, pulls your thigh over his forearm and finally lets you feel the hard ridges of his cock against your folds. “Stupid girl,” he huffs, trying to sound angry and annoyed, but there’s a lilting tone to his words, a love and trust you wouldn’t have been able to see with or without your blindfold, but can feel nonetheless. He pulls it off you anyway, the warm glow of the TV illuminating his face for you for the first time in about half an hour. Eyes soft, sweat trailing down his body. His body lines up against yours, but so does his heart. You feel it in the way he holds you in his arms, the way he’s careful about sinking into your folds. He slips an arm beneath your waist, uses it to hold you up so you’re not uncomfortably squishing your arms anymore. But if you ask, he’ll pretend he’s doing this for convenience sake only.

“T-Terrible fucking job,” he starts out, the stammer eluding the obvious discomfort he has saying those words, but he does it for you anyway. “Big fucking baby,” he tries again, slowly pushing past your tight walls with a shudder. “C-Can’t look away from you for two seconds because you’re such a fucking kid.”

“Worse,” you choke out. “Meaner. Please, Kook.”

He nods, holds your waist carefully when he finally bottoms out inside of you. “Dead-end office job,” he says, repeating the words that had made you want to crawl into a whole and never come out from. “Got some stupid fucking problems,” he tacks on, slowly withdrawing his hips from your heat. “Always complaining about the stupidest shit,” he hisses, fingers digging into your waist when it’s only the tip of his cock inside of you. “I don’t fucking care about it,” he seethes, forcefully snapping his hips into you.

They’re scrambled fragments of what he’d really said to you that night. Line after line that don’t carry a quarter of hurt or even make coherent sense for that matter. And still. 

You whimper, mind fuzzy from the thrusting pace he picks up, body fluttering at the glide of his cock against your walls. But your heart is thundering in your throat, his willingness to help fix this memory for you tightening around your every being until you can’t breathe. “I-I love you,” you cry, clenching down around him.

Jungkook groans, pulls you flush against his cock until the thin hairs around the base of his cock are tickling your skin. “Stupid, fucking child,” he groans, “immature ass nobody,” he grunts, bucking into you like your words don’t mean a thing.

“I am, I am,” you wail, suddenly hit with the cold hard truth that your body was desperately on edge. From the stimulation your nipples had gotten all night, to the ghost of the riding crop that lingered across your skin; your body was tired, so ready for a final orgasm that you’re certain Jungkook will provide. “T-Tell me y-you—“

“Shut up,” he barks, sweaty skin gliding against yours. “D-Don't tell me what to do,” he huffs, nailing you into the bed. He’s pushing you hard into the mattress, like he wants to brand you into it. “Need to fix this— alone.”

You nod numbly, the crowd behind him cheering loudly. It’s like they’re rooting for him— for the two of you —as silly as it sounds, and as bothersome as it would be any other day, today the obnoxious sounds of the ESPN soccer match only serve to fix a bad memory from before. It’s loud and cringey as all hell, but you’ll look back to this moment and laugh.

And that’s what you want most of all. You want that memory from before, that nasty fight, to go away, to disappear forever and be replaced with this one. Of him, pounding you into the sheets as his TV blares beside you, just another day, another round of sex filled with your usual kinks. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Ffffuck,” you whine when the tip of his hard cock prods against your cervix. He’s going deep, he’s going all out, because he wants to fix this too. Wants to do anything to make it right, and he’ll never know how much you appreciate him for it. “S-So deep,” you whimper, hips jumping when he rams back inside.

“Stupid slut,” Jungkook snarls, tucking his head against your neck the same way he always does. “Making me do stupid shit like this,” he bites, but you know he doesn’t mean it, know he never will again. He rocks his hips into you, no longer concerned with holding you up from uncomfortably laying on your cuffed arms anymore as he pistons into your squelching heat. He’s pressed so close over you, lips brushing against your collarbone with each snap of his hips.

All the pushing and jostling about has the chain of your clamps wildly jumping about, sprawling across the planes of your chest, above your breasts, where he snatches it up between his lips again. “Stupid, fucking—“ he slurs, jutting his head to the side like a wild stallion. You sob at the tenderness of your nipples, at the way he pays them no mercy as he continues rutting into you like a mad dog in heat. “Slut,” he spits. “S-So fuckin’ pretty.”

Your mind is in another universe, and when that last word, that devastatingly familiar term, slips from his lips mindlessly, something inside you snaps. “N-No,” you sob, legs fidgeting around his waist at the orgasm that wracks through your body against your will. “No,” you cry in frustration, “didn’t, didn’t want—“

“Stupid, stupid angel,” he babbles, seemingly unaware of your orgasm as he continues fucking into your leaking cunt, ignorant of the cum that dribbles out, creams his cock as he carries on. “Fuck,” he pants, gnaws against the chain of the stupid clamps like he can’t bare this any longer. “Love you,” he says, though he’s still stuck in that mindset from before and his sweet confession sounds more like a threat. “L-Love that childish side of you,” he confesses, finally dropping the chain— much to your relief —and surging forward to kiss you on the mouth. He tastes weirdly metallic, a thought you can’t ponder too long as he continues ramming himself past your clenched lips and into your pussy. “Your fffucking dr-drive to succeed,” he grunts, mouth smushed uncomfortably against your cheek.

“Kook, sweetheart,” you shudder, sensitive pussy spent as he drills on. His cock is still so achingly hard, and he doesn’t seem anywhere near completion. “Take it easy,” you gently remind him, can’t brush your fingers through his hair like you usually would, so you settle for pressing your lips to his cheek.

“Fuck, fuck,” he heaves, pushing so deep you practically feel him in your womb, swollen mushroom head begging for entry. “Give me it all,” he stammers, “want you—want this forever.”

“I know you do, baby,” you coo, nuzzling your nose against his when he sloppily surges forward, panting and gasping over you like a crazed caveman. “I’m yours,” you gently remind him.

“No,” he chokes out hoarsely, eyes screwed shut. “Need more, all of it,” he mumbles. “Give me yourself, ___, need you for the rest of my life—“ he cuts himself off with a shuddered whine, so airy and wispy it makes you shiver. “Ffffuck, shit,” he howls, each thrust into your walls only unraveling him more and more. “Give me, give me—“

“Anything,” you whimper, body trembling from his excessivity. “What do you want, Kook-ah?”

He says nothing, losing himself in the warmth of your pussy as his orgasm rounds the corner. He’s in the final stretch, the final straight until achieving nirvana alongside you at the finish line. And, as you’ve long since come to understand, a true Jungkook Danger Zone. He loses all sense of self, random syllables and phrases slipping through his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, marry me— marry me,” he moans, snapping his hips into you with a ferocious speed that has you bouncing against the sheets, and that’s despite the tight grip his has on you. “Let me— fuck— let me fuck a baby into you, sweetheart,” he purrs, eyes shining like an absolute psycho, but you’re apparently into that because the idea squeezes around your chest and burrows it’s way in. “A baby,” he marvels like an idiot, eyes big and sparkly, “f-fuck.”

“Wh-What?” you choke, flinching when he bites down against your lower lip. He’s got you trapped beneath him, stuffing your brain with these ideas that make your heart enter cardiac arrest, body tingling like in Mario Kart when you’ve got the star power up. “Kook—“

“Sh,” he groans, digging his fingers into your sides as he rolls his hips against you. “Almost,” he informs you, but the blood rushes to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he pants, jaw clenching, “oh, baby.”

Jungkook cums with a shivered cry, body hunching over you like some entity has just exited out of his spine. Maybe something did, because afterwards he manages to hold himself above you for exactly three seconds before dropping the entirety of his hefty muscles onto you. “Ouch,” you whine, wrists twisted uncomfortably beneath you.

“Sorry,” he huffs, completely out of breath and dazed as he rolls away from you. He ends up spread out like a starfish beside you, completely fucked out and definitely zooming through the fifth, sixth, and seventh dimensions.

He doesn’t say anything for a hot minute, chest rising and falling like he’s just run a marathon, until you butt in. “Kook. Undo me,” you remind him.

He looks over at you, dark hair falling over his eyes and sprawling around his head like a halo. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “Oh,” he says, like his brain has just processed the information. “Right.” He sits up, tucking himself back into the shorts he never fully took off. That was his character flaw; never bothers to get completely naked during sex. Anyway, his straight male-equivalent of booty shorts come up around his thighs again, stretching sinfully across the thick muscles.

The five sonnet poem that was gearing up in your head comes to a halt when he touches your breast. “No, no more,” you cry, instinctively withering away.

Jungkook snorts. “I’m just taking them off, baby,” he says, reaching forward again with the same practiced ease you’d use on an animal. The clamps come off, all the nerves suddenly coming back to life. It’s a weird sensation, not having your tits subject to that prickling pain anymore, and it makes you moan softly. Jungkook soothes you with his wannabe masseuse hands, but you think it’s just an excuse for him to fondle your breasts.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks gently, hovering over you like a damned surgeon or something. His voice is so silky and smooth, hands soft against your chest. He’s so careful in the way he turns you over, somehow magically producing the tiny key pick you swore was lost between the sheets after its first use.

Being on your chest makes you tremble like a leaf, the faintest brush of the cotton against your tits enough to make your pussy clench weakly. “ I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, carefully detailing his actions like you’re not watching him with your very own eyes. But it’s oddly comforting, having him walk you through the process of rolling your sore wrists. The inside of the cuffs had a plush lining, but it was a pretty cheap thing. After he’s done massaging the skin, he pads over to his dresser and returns with a shirt and undies for you. “Shirt,” he says, helping you into the clothing.

When you’re all snuggled under the sheets again, the television still loud as hell, he mumbles, “wanna talk about it?”

You exhale against his chest, feeling so light and fluttery from your orgasms and the way he runs his fingers through your scalp and the way his heart thunders by your ear. “Hm,” you hum pensively. “Nah. Think I’m fine now,” you admit.

Jungkook chuckles. “A full miracle recovery?” he teases. You nod, taking in the comforting scent of his fabric softener and just him in his entirety.

“Yep.” A beat of silence, the commentator is back to filling the space between you two. He talks about a mile minute, spewing stats and plays you could never understand in a thousand years. But you know Jungkook will get sucked in soon enough, so you strike while the pot is hot. “Do you wanna talk?”

He cranes his neck a little to look at you. “What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes, pushing yourself up to look at him straight on. “Oh, my mistake,” you drawl. “I seem to have missed the part where we were going to act like you didn’t just ask for my hand in marriage and then offered to get me pregnant—,” you pause, the realization suddenly hitting you like a trash can whipping down a hill on a rainy day at a thousand miles per hour. “Pregnant!” you exclaim, cheeks warm at the fact he really just said that to you.

Jungkook’s cheeks fare no better, a Flaming Hot Cheeto shade dusting his skin. “I, it was just…” he tries, poor tiny monkey brain working overtime to offer an excuse. “It-it doesn’t have to be a thing,” he blushes, big Bambi eyes flickering from you to the television to the heart-tipped riding crop by the foot of the bed. “I was just…”

You raise your brows. “Consumed by the spirit of King Henry IV to have fourteen kids?”

He blinks. “Wait, you actually paid attention to that film?”

“That’s not the point!” you exclaim, shifting onto your knees in front of him. “What,” you inhale sharply, heart beating wildly in your chest, “what was that?”

Jungkook can only play the shocked angel card for so long before he’s sinking back into his pillow stack with the sigh of a man who’s worked in construction for the last sixty-four years. “I just,” he mumbles, “I think about it sometimes.” His admission makes your heart lodge itself into your throat, wide eyes watching him spill out his heart to you.

He misreads the expression on your face. “I-Not now!” he hurries to explain. “Like,” he stammers, rosy hue slowly crawling down his neck, over his ears. “Maybe, y’know? In the future…”

You blink, brain reduced to a series of beeps and clicks like that of an old computer trying to compute information that is simply not processing. “Yeah…” you murmur, unsure of what to do with the film reel that suddenly flashes before your eyes, a look into a doorway you had never considered before. “I— me too.”

Jungkook chokes on his own saliva. “Really?” he yelps, has those sparkly anime girl eyes you always tease him about.

The gulp you do sounds loud in your ears. “Yeah,” you breathe, throat drier than the desert, but more confident than the first peabrain response. “I-I’d like that.”

There’s a bright beam of light that shines right in your face, so vibrant and dazzling it makes you flinch and by the time you’ve recovered you realize it’s his smile. “Yeah?” Jungkook mumbles back, pearly teeth framed by his pretty smile, brows raised at your stuttery confirmation. You nod. His lips twist into a smaller grin, a condensed version of the superstar one he gave you just moments before. Before you can brush it off with a joke, he’s snatching your hand up in his, a soft smooch pressed to your knuckles. “Okay,” he says quietly, dark eyes meeting yours. “One day?”

Your heart constricts in your chest, and all you can do is nod. “One da—“

“Goooooaaaaallllll!” the announcer on screen shrieks, the loud sounds of the TV killing your mood instantly.

Any dumbstruck, love struck, idiotic, ditzy expression on your face is wiped clean, replaced with an unimpressed glare you narrow on him. His nose is scrunched up like he wants to laugh, lips pressed into a thin line at your annoyance. He swipes the TV remote off the side table, arms spread open for you to crawl back into. You do so with a huff, pout smushed against the front of his hoodie.

“That’s enough ESPN for today,” he chuckles, switching the channel about a thousand times until Rick and Morty is playing on screen. “I’ll just watch the highlights later.”

“ESPN,” you scoff like an evil villain in a movie who’s just been presented with their mortal enemy, fisting the front of his hoodie.

Jungkook nods. “ESPN,” he repeats. A beat passes. “Kinda like BDS—“

“Go get your ice pack.”

epilogue

Because Jungkook couldn’t sit still for that one eventful night following his ladder injury, he ends up in a medical boot for one week, loudly clunking around the place like a reverse pirate. You snap a picture of him that you post on Twitter for your twelve followers to see, just him pouting at the doctor’s office with his new boot and club jersey on to celebrate last night’s victory.

It’s just a cute pic for you and your friends to laugh at.

Until it’s not, and his handsome face is circulating around the entire internet.

He’s being called the Face of FC Seoul, with desperate women messaging you left and right for his information. Other fans are bragging about the beauty that is an FC Seoul fanboy. It gets to the point where his face appears on the next night’s ESPN Nightly Recap, a special on social media stars posting about the game. Except Jungkook is neither a social media star nor did he even post about the game— you did.

But there he is, all five feet and ten inches of him smiling brightly at you from the ESPN Sports channel, wearing the boot he got from hand cuffing and whipping you to completion. 

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[colossal-fallout]

All I gotta say is: bodyguard! Porco who's gotta take care of some rich man's (legal age of course) daughter and pounding into her at night because she's such a brat 😩

Yes. All of the yes. Its a little different but hopefully you'll still like it ❤️ if not feel free to request again. I got resident evil 4 Ashley Graham vibes from her so I named her after the president's daughter lol

Warnings: 18+ smut

"Por----co!"

Galliard flinched at that all too familiar screeching; nails on a chalkboard peircing his ears as Ashley rounded the corner with her cheeks puffed out in annoyance.

"What?" He grumbled in response, his already short break ruined prematurely.

"I wanna go in now."

Porco lowered his sandwich with a sigh. "You can't go in without me. I'm not finis-"

"I said, now!"

Porco drops his small meal right there on the floor with an enraged snarl, not able to deny her request else he get his ass handed to him by her dad.

Ashley was 22 but by god did she act like a spoilt fucking brat. Guess he couldn't blame her really, when you're used to having anything and everything you wanted at the snap of a finger. He skulked behind her and her two friends as they walked towards the club, his hands in his pockets. He would almost feel sorry for her due to her lack of attention and love at home.

"Porco, you get our drinks."

Almost felt sorry for her.

An hour later, he was leaning against the barrier that was a few feet above the dancefloor where his client's precious angel was dancing with her pals. His cheek rested on his fist, eyes heavy and bored. He watched her sway to the music, the only elevation of the repentance of this job was Ashley was pretty easy on the eyes. But my god was she annoying.

His eyes flicker slightly when he notices two men who've appeared next to her, dancing along with her movements. Pretty harmless so far - they seemed to be keeping their distance.

"Bad client?" A low voice mutters as one of the bouncers stood next to him, draping his arms over the railing.

It was obvious, especially to anyone else in the business what Porco was - his white shirt and black tie hugging his large form tightly a dead give away.

A sigh leaves his lips but he doesn't remove his eyes from the dancing woman. "...You have no idea."

The bouncer chuckled. "Yeah I've had those jobs before. Just gotta keep thinking of the money."

"That's the only thing that keeps me going." Proco's tone was low and dragged out, practically whining with boredom. "She doesn't know but tonight's my last night watching her."

He tensed when he saw one of the men now placing his hand on Ashley's lower back, whispering in her ear. They began swaying together as he pressed against her his hands roaming.

"You're... Gorgeous." The man whispered in her ear, resulting in a pink flush across her cheeks.

His sneer quickly vanished when a large hand grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him back with ease.

"Come on, stud. That's close enough." Porco muttered.

"Porco! What are you doing?!" Ashley protested, grabbing the man's arm in an attempt to pull him back.

"You're not allowed to be -"

"I don't care! I'm not allowed to do anything! You always ruin my fun!" She screamed, stamping her foot before storming away.

Tossing the man to the side like an empty packet of chips, he pushed his way through the crowd in pursuit of her. If he lost sight of this lady, he's a goner.

God that screach! He thinks as he follows her outside. I'd love to shut her up by shoving my cock in that loud mouth.

He kept a safe distance from her fury as she made her way back to the hotel, storming into their shared room.

He was surprised to find her sitting on her bed, sobbing. Her tragic emeralds soaked wit tears as she dabs her cheeks adorably.

"Ashley?" He frowns.

He'd seen her lose her shit. He'd seen her boss people around. But he'd never witnessed her crying before.

"Oh, it's you. What a surprise." She whispers sarcastically, gazing down at the floor. "I know I'm difficult. But that's just... How I vent my frustrations I guess. I'm twenty two and can't do anything. I have no privacy. I want to have sex. And it's impossible. I'll always have some... Bodyguard casting a shadow over me."

Porco's mouth pulled into a frown. He didn't really know what to say. He was just doing his job. And he wasn't particularly fond of her so he was finding difficult to sympathise on a deep level. He felt some pity though, as she sniffled at the ground.

Her fingers curled into a fist as anger began to bubble up out from the sorrow. "I mean, I can't have anything I want! I want to be able to have boyfriends, I don't want that Mercedes, I asked my dad for a Porsche! But do I get that? No---! Is my dog a pedigree like I asked? Nope! And even then I -"

Her tear soaked eyes widened in surprise when Porco's fat cock shoved deep into her mouth, his large hands on her head, shoving it in deeper. She'd been so self absorbed in her shallow ranting she hadn't even noticed him pulling his hardening cock out from his trousers.

"Will you shut the fuck up?" He snarls, pushing himself further past her sweet lips and down her throat. "You're so fucking annoying." A deep groan passes his mouth at the feel of her tight throat. "If you want to ride a dick so bad, shut up and have mine."

Her eyes were still wide, but she wasn't pulling away. Her skin began to heat up as this large, well built and strong man began to thrust in and out of her mouth.

Porco let our a deep sigh and looked up at the ceiling, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed. "Ah... Just shut up. Fuck..."

"Porco..." She gasps as he pushes her thighs up to her chest and looking down at her bare slit.

His shaft vibrated deliciously as she moaned around him, her heart pounding the extra blood supply down to her already wet pussy. He pulls himself out with a pop, pushing her back harshly and pulling down her skirt and panties with one easy tug.

"Nice and pretty like I thought it'd be." He nods with an impressed frown.

"Are you really going to-"

"Do you want me to sort you out?" He glares.

She nods.

"Then the only words to leave that fuckin' mouth of yours is my name. Got it?"

She nods again, more eagerly.

Her back arches and she calls out loudly when he closes his mouth around her clit, sucking and tasting her, his warm tongue flicking over her frustrated nub.

"Ah~! Porco!" She cries out when he slides his two fingers into her coin slot, activating her loud whines.

"Porco! Oh my god!" She calls out, her grip clasping onto his hair as she rode the golden wave of ecstasy into the next world. Her juices flowed down his wrist as she spasmed and pulled, her cunt just as greedy as her personality. He wasn't going to let her calm down though. Was he fuck.

She fuckin tastes good too. He thinks as he works her, even her moans of pleasure were annoying. Overly loud and high pitched. He couldn't wait to ruin her, finish and never see her again. She begins to squirm around, her tight walls clenching around his fingers, her orgasm already threatening the boundaries of her reality.

Without letting her catch her breath he stood up and harshly pushed his fat head into her entrance, her overstimulated whimpered gasp satisfying him greatly.

Finally got her to shut up.

He kept her legs pressed to her chest rolling his hips deeply, his breathy pants quickly warming the air in the room. His balls slappes against her relentlessly as she stared up at the ceiling with her mouth wide open, totally silent, not able to move with the pleasures his large dick was pulsing into her.

His eyes flashed up at the clock on the bedstand.

23:52.

He pounded faster, her wetness splashing around her and across his stomach and balls, her nails digging into his forearms as she came again, her silent scream not audible in their dimension.

"Fuck." He hisses as her insides clamp down onto him, trying to milk him for all his worth.

"Urgh... Take my cock, you fuckin bitch." He barks, slapping his hand across her ass, hard leaving a red mark. "This is what your daddy should have done years ago, you brat." He snarls before giving another open palmed slap.

He pulls out, once again not even letting her recover as he rolled her onto all fours with ease, her legs trembling as he pushed the side of her face into the bed, re entering her with a gruff groan. She can't see. Her body is overloaded with sesntivity. She begins to drool a little into the sheets, her eyes rolled into the back of her head as shes pounded into oblivion.

"P-por... Porco... Ah... Haa..." She whispers not able to use her basic functions, his cock basically prodding at her vocal chords.

The bed creaks and slams against the wall as he goes even harder, her cunt sucking and spurting, flexing in delight as he hurtles her into another climax, her tongue falling out of her mouth with a satisfied smile not even able to cry out anymore as she cums.

She wasn't worthy of his seed. So a few moments later, he pulls out of her soppy slit and rolls her onto her back, tugging himself as steaming ropes of his thick cum splatter across her dazed face, covering her from chin up to her hair.

"Look at the state of you..." He sighs, catching his breath as he picks up her skirt from the floor, using it to clean his cock.

She lay there, legs splayed, covered in cum, her own drool and sweat.

"That was just a quickie too." He shakes his head, throwing her skirt down to her to clean herself up. But she doesn't.

"Porco..." She finally breathes, coming back to life as he tucks himself back in his trousers. "That was... Oh my god. Can we do that again? All night?"

His eyes go back to the clock.

00:03

"Sorry, princess. My shift is over. You're under someone else's watch from 8am too. Was nice working with - what am I saying? It was a fucking nightmare."

She sits up, her eyes wide. "W-what?"

"You heard me." He grabs his coat and heads for the door. "Take care of yourself, now."

"Porco. You can't do this!" She barks, trying to get to her feet but her legs were still too mangled from being absolutely railed. "Wait until my father hears about this!"

"Whatever." He rolls his eyes. "You can't have everything you want. I'm not a possession. And you're not having me."

"POR----CO!" She screams as he leaves, the door slamming behind him.

[palukoo]

okay amazing perfect thank you for the support!! i require very little encouragement to ramble <3

so, first off, general disclaimer that these are old movies-- there's gonna be some fairly egregious racism, misogyny, etc. enter at your own risk.

also, as i basically said in the original tags, there's a lot that i'm sure would go on this list that i just haven't gotten around to watching yet

i'm gonna break this down a little by rough "genre"/vibe, give some brief descriptions/info, and link to it (note: i haven't double checked all the links so if its wrong whoops sorry). but i do wanna give first just a general top 10 list. the order is rough bc i'm bad at rankings lol. i'll elaborate more on each one within those little sections under the cut.

All About Eve (1950)

The Women (1939)

Holiday (1938)

Ninotchka (1939)

His Girl Friday (1940)

Rebecca (1940)

Gaslight (1944)

Bringing Up Baby (1938)

The Lady Eve (1941)

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962)

alright so now lets get into it! general note, I generally wanted discrete categories but some movies could or will be in multiple. also, from here on out, things aren't really in a particular order? the first few will tend to be favorites, but it's really not a hard and fast thing

Part 1: Screwballs!

Ninotchka (1939) - a Soviet and an aristocrat fall in love, which may not sound all that compelling, but it genuinely depicts Nina (Greta Garbo) with so much more respect and agency than you would expect. Things I think she would usually be mocked or vilified and made to atone for, she really isn't. Also, her autistic swag has bewitched me (and Melvyn Douglas) mind body and soul.

Holiday (1938) - working class man (Cary Grant) learns that his fiancee is insanely rich, though his plans to quit his job to take a vacation and find meaning in life, and his immediate witty rapport with her disillusioned, depressed sister (Katharine Hepburn), cause some issues for their intended marriage. This movie made me believe in love, and Cary Grant gets to do a lot of flips for no real reason which is fun.

His Girl Friday (1940) - newspaper woman (Rosalind Russell) is quitting her job working for her editor/ex-husband (Cary Grant) and intends to marry another man (Ralph Bellamy) and have a nice, calm, boring life, but there's a big story about political corruption and she needs the money her ex is offering her to cover it. Naturally, hijinks ensue. I'm a sucker for a news/reporter story, and Rosalind Russell does comedy so well it's crazy.

Bringing up Baby (1938) - a paleontologist (Cary Grant) just wants to get his intercostal clavicle, get his research funded, and go home to marry his extremely non-romantic fiancee, but the truly unhinged heiress (Katharine Hepburn) he keeps running into has to take care of a leopard and ropes him in on her chaos. I'm honestly underselling how wild this one is (true for most of these, really)

The Lady Eve (1941) - a con-woman (Barbara Stanwyck) and her father go after a very rich and flustered herpetologist (Henry Fonda) for his fortune, but she falls in love with him. When he learns she's conning him, he breaks it off. So naturally she decides to re-enter his life and exact her revenge via a disguise so brilliant he'll never see through it (there is basically no disguise)

The Philadelphia Story (1940) - a socialite (Katharine Hepburn) is getting married, but her ex-husband (Cary Grant), a reporter who is forced to cover this instead of real news (James Stewart), and his girlfriend/photographer (Ruth Hussey) get in the way of things, making said socialite question her views on relationships and herself. But really, to me it's about swingers <3

Ball of Fire (1941) - a nightclub dancer/moll (Barbara Stanwyck) finds refuge from the police who want her to testify against her mob boss boyfriend in a house full of professors, one of whom (Gary Cooper) is researching modern American slang but knows pretty much none of it. She knows plenty! And I feel obligated to mention that her name is Sugarpuss.

The Awful Truth (1937) - a married couple (Cary Grant & Irene Dunne) both think that the other is cheating on them, so they decide to get divorced and start pursuing other relationships. Only they also keep interfering in each other's relationships. Which could mean nothing.

My Favorite Wife (1940) - a woman (Irene Dunne) goes missing for several years, and when she is eventually declared dead, her husband (Cary Grant) remarries. When she is rescued/returned, things get complicated for the newlyweds, as her husband is still in love with her but doesn't know how to break things off with his new wife.

Note: The Talk of the Town and Design for Living would certainly be at home in this category, but I'm gonna hold off for now...

our "genres" get weirder/looser from here on

Part 2: Thrillers, Noirs, and Other Iconic Cinematography

Gaslight (1944) - do I even have to say anything for this one? A young woman (Ingrid Bergman) marries and she and her husband (Charles Boyer) move into the home she left as a child when her aunt was murdered. He begins to manipulate her into believing she is going insane so that she can't trust herself-- or be trusted by others.

Gilda (1946) - a man (Glenn Ford) begins to work for the corrupt casino owner who saved his life, quickly gaining his trust and taking on more responsibilities. The owner returns from a trip with a new wife (Rita Hayworth), who has a history with our protagonist. A lot happens from there! Note: it has an extremely unsatisfying ending imo, but I think it's still worth the watch. just be warned

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) - two sisters, one who was a very successful child star but not a very successful actress (Bette Davis), and the other who became a movie star after being largely neglected in childhood (Joan Crawford), live together largely as a result of the fact that the latter was injured in a car crash and since then has been paralyzed from the waist down. when she wants to find a way to escape her sister's volatility and outright abuse, things come to a head. Note: this movie is often considered camp. it's not really, I think people just like to trivialize old women rather than take the fact that this is a legitimate thriller seriously. hope that helps.

Mildred Pierce (1945) - when questioned by the police about her husband's murder, a woman (Joan Crawford) recounts the story of her divorce, single motherhood, and efforts and successes in starting and running a business to fulfill the needs and desires of her daughter (Ann Blyth).

Double Indemnity (1944) - an insurance salesman and a dissatisfied wife/femme fatale (Barbara Stanwyck) plot to kill her husband and stage it so that they get a large insurance payout. Everything does not go according to plan. This is a very quintessential noir.

Spellbound (1945) - a psychoanalyst (Ingrid Bergman) falls for her new boss (Gregory Peck) before realizing that he is actually suffering from amnesia and claims to have killed and taken the place of the man who was actually supposed to take the job. She doesn't believe him, and they work to find the truth. I'm half recommending this for its dream sequence tbh.

Vertigo (1958) - a retired policeman is hired as a PI to try to understand what is wrong with his old friend's wife who has been displaying odd behaviors. Her husband thinks she's being possessed by her great grandmother who committed suicide. Through his investigation and protection of her, the PI falls in love with her and tries to help her recover from her strange affliction.

The Birds (1963) - birds start attacking people like crazy! I don't know how to pitch this one except that it's a lot more about women and their relationships to each other than I was expecting

The Strange Love of Martha Ivers (1946) - three childhood friends are bound by one's accidental killing of her aunt. As adults, two of them are married, wealthy, and powerful (Barbara Stanwyck & Kirk Douglas). When the third (Van Heflin) returns to town, it brings up old feelings and worries, and highlights their differing views and desires.

Note: there's a lot of Hitchcock I could and probably should put here, but I don't think I'm really gonna be the first person to tell you to watch like, Rear Window or Psycho or even like Notorious. I know that's also true for the ones I did list, but whatever.

Additional note: Obviously Rebecca should also go here. duh. I'm just putting it elsewhere

Part 3: Emotionally Compelling Performances in Dramas? I Guess?

Mourning Becomes Electra (1947) - a woman (Rosalind Russell) is angered when she discovers that her mother is having an affair with a man she herself has feelings for while her father, who she is devoted to, (and brother) have been away at war. Things get further complicated from here. This is very much a classic family drama play turned movie.

The Heiress (1949) - a nervous and awkward woman (Olivia de Havilland) whose father resents her for not living up to his idolized memory of her dead mother falls in love and plans to elope against her fathers wishes. Her father suspects that the man is only after his daughter's money.

Now, Voyager (1942) - a nervous and awkward woman (Bette Davis) is driven to mental breakdown by her overbearing mother (Gladys Cooper). After her time at a psychiatric facility, her psychiatrist (Claude Rains) urges her to go on a cruise, where she falls in love with a married man (Paul Henreid) who only stays in his marriage because of his daughter.

An Affair to Remember (1957) - two people (Deborah Kerr & Cary Grant) meet on a cruise and fall in love, only they are both in other relationships back on shore. The longing is depicted extremely well imho.

Stella Dallas (1937) - a working class woman (Barbara Stanwyck) marries rich and has a daughter, who she is desperate to give the best possible life to. She struggles to fit into high society for her daughter's benefit as her marriage ends

The Great Lie (1941) - a man (George Brent) realizes that his impulsive marriage to a pianist/socialite (Mary Astor) is not actually legal, and soon decides to instead marry his long time on and off girlfriend (Bette Davis) and get a job as a pilot. When he goes missing and is presumed dead, the two women make a plan on how to handle the socialite's recently confirmed pregnancy.

Marked Woman (1937) - a nightclub hostess (Bette Davis) is pressured by the district attorney (Humphrey Bogart) into testifying against the mob boss who owns the club in a murder case. Shortly after, her sister comes to visit and ignores warnings about the club. Bette kind of gets to go off on Humphrey a little for like the law not caring about women and (heavily implied) sex workers.

Note: A lot of the thriller/noirs could also really easily and accurately be put here, as could some from the next category...

Additional note: A lot of Bette Davis movies could go on this list because she is always giving compelling performances, I just don't always love the surrounding movies that much. so honorable mentions: Deception, Dangerous, Of Human Bondage, Dark Victory (trigger warning: Ronald Reagan)

Part 4: Queer Themes/Queer Coded

All About Eve (1950) - a young woman (Anne Baxter) who is obsessed with a renowned theater actress (Bette Davis) makes her way into her inner circle before beginning to take over her life. It's also very funny and brilliant and Bette is so completely charismatic in it that it's crazy. If you watch one movie from this list, let it be this one.

Rebecca (1940) - a young woman (Joan Fontaine) marries a rich widower (Laurence Olivier) and is taken to live at his estate, quickly becoming frustrated and overwhelmed by how much is clearly influenced by his late wife-- particularly the housekeeper (Judith Anderson), who frightens her and was clearly obsessed with the former lady of the house. Meanwhile, she is also subject to her husband's constant critiques and outbursts.

The Talk of the Town (1942) - a labor activist (Cary Grant) takes refuge in an old friend's (Jean Arthur) house when he is falsely accused of murder. But his friend is renting her house out to a renowned law professor and soon to be Supreme Court Justice (Ronald Colman). Hiding his true identity due to the accusations against him, and with the help of his friend the activist tries to change the professor's view of the law. Oh, and they're in love.

Design for Living (1933) - two friends and artists (Fredric March & Gary Cooper) live together while struggling to find success. They meet and both fall in love with a woman, who in turn falls in love with both of them. She proposes that they all live together as platonic roommates so she can help them with their artistic careers. She does the second part of that very successfully.

The Children's Hour (1961) - two women run a school together, but their work and their lives are under threat when a student accuses them of being lesbians. This one isn't queer coded, it's just actually queer and of course quite tragic (suicide tw, and a lot of internalized homophobia leading up to it).

Part 5: Other??

The Women (1939) - a socialite (Norma Shearer) tries to navigate her next steps when she learns through gossiping friends (Rosalind Russell) that her husband is cheating on her with a shopgirl (Joan Crawford). I have to mention that this film is extremely notable in the fact that there are no men ever seen or heard in it. It is almost always talking about men, but they aren't ever actually there. This movie could also just be summarized as like "the girls are fighting." Everyone is incredible in this, truly, I am always thinking about them. This made me become obsessed with Ros and Norma (I was already obsessed with Joan)

Grand Hotel (1932) - at a hotel in Berlin, several guests' lives become briefly entangled, including a baron who has gone broke and become a thief (John Barrymore), a dying accountant (Lionel Barrymore), an uncaring industrialist working on a deal (Wallace Beery), a stenographer who wants to become an actress (Joan Crawford), and a depressed ballerina (Greta Garbo).

How to Marry a Millionaire (1953) - to be honest, I think this one is pretty self explanatory. Three women (Lauren Bacall, Marilyn Monroe, Betty Grable) try to find rich husbands while living together, but it's not quite that simple.

Auntie Mame (1958) - an aging, free-spirited socialite (Rosalind Russell) is given custody of her nephew when he is orphaned, and her ideals and lifestyle quickly clash with those of the bank who manages his inheritance. As her nephew is put into a private school and raised to be more conventional and upper class, she struggles at various times financially and emotionally, and they both try to maintain their close relationship despite the difficulty.

Dancing Lady (1933) - frustrated with her job as a burlesque dancer and reluctant to accept help from a rich man with clear ulterior motives (Franchot Tone), a woman (Joan Crawford) pursues a Broadway director (Clark Gable) to audition for his show. Eventually, during the course of her efforts and eventual rehearsals, she begins a relationship with the rich man as she grows closer to the director. There's a lot of dancing, which I personally enjoy.

A Letter to Three Wives (1949) - three friends (Linda Darnell, Jeanne Crain, Ann Sothern) receive a letter from another woman informing them that she has run away with one of their husbands. Because she does not specify, they all reflect on if it is their husband who has left through a series of flashbacks.

The Divorcee (1930) - when a man cheats on his wife (Norma Shearer) and tells her it didn't mean anything, she responds in kind. In outrage, he divorces her, leaving both miserable. Honestly, the reason I recommend this one is for Norma looking cute and also telling him, "I've balanced our accounts."

hi would anyone be interested in a old movie recc post/list from me?

[antiloreolympus]

So I just discovered LO and enjoyed it a lot, and I found this blog and could to some degree understand the criticism, but a lot of you seem to be crossing a line. Claiming that this blog is only normal critique that a creator should handle, when I’ve seen several asks now implying that Rachel Smythe is secretely a pedo or creep in real life for depicting an age-gap relationship? Like you can dislike it all you like, but trying to relate it back to making cruel assumptions about the creator really isn’t okay. Like I don’t believe her work is above critique, but you can’t blame her for not wanting to engage with it when so much is just crazy conspiracy theories of her real life personality. The older rich gentleman who swoops younger wide-eyed lady of her feet trope isn’t new nor uncommon, and you can dislike it all you like, but women aren’t unfeminist/creeps/pedos for finding it entertaining. It’s clear that that’s the story Smythe is interested in telling, and that a lot of you find that to be a missed opportunity and want something more nuanced than just a horny retelling of hades/persephone but Smythe really isn’t obligated to be telling the story you want her to tell. Female writers shouldn’t be demonized for writing horny stories, and they definitely shouldn’t have to endure being called creeps/pedos/unfeminist for doing so.

I've never claimed this blog to be only normal critique nor do I except RS to take every single critique against her comic. I ask for normal critique but I don't expect it all of the time. She already has stated she doesn't take it well so her seeing this blog isn't what I care about.

That being said, people say that her Hades gives off pedo vibes not RS. (Even then, creep/predator would've been better word choices but I don't change other people's asks)

However, the word creep means:

1. a detestable person

Which could fit RS depending on the person

"Age-gap relationship" Typically, the relationship isn't between a 19/20 yr old college student/intern and her late 30s-early 40s boss who was described as a fully developed grown man by RS herself. I feel like saying it's just an age gap relationship is down playing the power and developmental imbalance between the two. So many people I've seen have said to at least get out of your teenhood (13-19) before dating older men and at the start of the story, she was only 19. She barely just turned 20 when they kissed.

No one really talks about her personal life here and when I catch it, I shut it down.

That troupe is typically with people already in their 20s. Again, 19 at the start of the story (in one part she was most likely 18, making out with Ares who's also way older 😬). This barely legal troupe is still very creepy, I thought people already established that when it came to the p*rn industry.

Also, most assumptions are based off of screenshots from RS herself I've shown throughout my entire blog. I wouldn't say most of the assumptions you've seen aren't in relation to those and other available information on her.

LO itself is what people claim to be unfeminist. RS has stated it's supposed to be a feminist retelling but most of us don't see what's so feminist about teen who gets sexualized by the story and other characters in it, including the 'creepy old man' she ends up with.

I'm aware RS isn't obligated to give anyone anything but that doesn't mean we still can't be negative about/towards her work. Her being a female writer doesn't give her any sort of pass for LO. I'd probably give her a pass if LO wasn't on an 'all ages' platform. LO may be marketed as Adult in other places but on webtoon, it isn't. I haven't seen LO with the mature pop up function either so we can't say that it's 100% for adults if one of it's main audiences is the '10s' on webtoon.

[onelastbreath-writes]

I Spy

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales/Fem!Reader (AFAB, no y/n)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Brief mention of bad(abusive/manipulative) parents, general adult topics, swearing.

Summary: You meet a cute guy at a bar, you date, you fall in love, and oops, it turns out you’ve both been lying about your careers. Classified only stays classified until you get assigned a mission together. (SpecOps&Spies, with Young!Frankie)

A/N: Hey guys, I was bad and started another fic. Whoops. This one is for Triple Frontier because I love that soft boi Francisco. The flavour of this fic, the vibe if you will, is basically the spiderman pointing meme. I’ve vaguely set the timeline to like mid-2000s? so I’ll be trying my best to stay true to technology and aesthetic of the era. There was so much denim. Anyways, that means I’m trying to write for about a 27-33 year old Frankie and a similarly aged reader. I don’t see this series being more than a couple chapters at best, so it’ll be short and sweet. Also, like, very little angst if I can help it; I just want this one to be a good, cute, fun read. Hope y’all enjoy! Xoxo

[AO3][Masterlist]

“So, you’re coming out tonight, right? You’re not busy or anything?”

“Please don’t say it like that, you know how busy work actually is. And I’m a grown woman; if I didn’t want to go to a shady dive bar with you and your very loud friends from the office, I’d say so,” You loved your best friend, and you missed spending time together, but you really couldn’t say the same for her co-workers.

You had nothing against the women she worked with, and you found that they were all perfectly lovely and usually quite fun to be around… it was just that when the alcohol came out, the volume control and verbal filters disappeared.

You wouldn’t say that barhopping was what you’d prefer to be doing tonight, along with more or less babysitting your friend and her friends, but you didn’t know when you’d next be able to squeeze in a night off to just hang out and have fun, so this was happening. You would laugh and smile and keep the drunk secretaries from going home with questionable people, and then you would look back on your ladies’ night with fond memories until you could eventually attend another.

You had known when you picked your career that it would be an around-the-clock, all-day, every-day sort of thing. You never deluded yourself into thinking you would have much of a social life or long-term relationships. Most partners, hell even most friends, would have a problem with you jetting off for weekends, or disappearing for days at a time under mountains of paperwork and appointments.

It just made your best friend that much more important to you. You’d met as kids, went through years of school beside each other, hung out, did stupid teenager things and then stupid young adult things together. You’d cried and laughed and fought and made up a million times, you’d gone to different colleges and still kept in touch, moved away, moved back, and you were still going strong. She was your ride-or-die, your anchor and your parachute and everything in between, so if you could use some of your precious, hoarded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it time off to see her, that’s just what you’d do.

“You should take some of that fire, and direct it at your boss. Tell him no for a change. I’d love to see his face at that!” She meant well, always trying to look out for you and your health when it came to your beyond demanding job. You weren’t even allowed to tell her a fraction of what you were doing in your professional life, and she knew it, but that didn’t stop her from being ready to throw fists at your employer at a moment’s notice.

“One does not simply tell the über-rich that they don’t need to fly to Paris, again. Being a PA is a full-time nannying gig, except your charge is an adult who can argue when you say no, and you cannot put them on timeout when they’re being a brat. Where he goes, I go, and unless something drastic happens, it will probably continue on like that for a while.” She laughed at your jokes, and your heart hurt a little less at her glee. You knew she would never give up on you or blame you for your work being unpredictable, but that didn’t make the sting of last-minute cancels and missed outings hurt any less, for either of you.

“But it must be nice, just getting on a plane and going somewhere amazing at the drop of a hat. Travelling the world like a superstar, meeting people, having amazing adventures with mysterious strangers…”

“Easy there, Mamma Mia, your wanderlust is showing. And I’d take you with me in a heartbeat if I could. You were born to be a jetsetter, not to be stuck in this town with nothing but the office cubicle beside you to stare at. And I still think you should apply for one of those immersive culture grants you keep mooning over. They’d be fools not to fund your writing expedition!” She was an incredible person, three full degrees to her name in the time it took a normal student to get one, and a brain that could run miles around the rest of the professionals in her field. But she was tethered to this quiet backwater town, and she wasn’t free to fly like she deserved.

“You know I can’t just… go, like you can. My mom, it’d just break her heart… I don’t want to leave her alone, not after Dad,” You honestly doubted that you’d ever meet a woman more horrible and undeserving of her own daughter’s kindness. Helen was a parasite full of lies and manipulations and greed, and she had attached herself like a bad rash to your friend after she’d chased away the rest of her family members.

Your friend searched for the good in everyone, but you wished she’d stop looking for it at that home.

“You deserve your own happiness and freedom, and she should be encouraging you to spread your wings if and when you’re ready.” Politicking your friend was never something you enjoyed. She was the last person you wanted to use your negotiating credentials and sly subterfuge tactics against, but you wanted, needed, her safety and health more. You considered it almost bribery; dangling her dream future in front of her in exchange of being rid of the garbage in her life.

“Hey now, we’re getting way too deep into sad-drunk night conversations, and this is strictly a happy-fun-drunk night. Please leave all baggage and woes at the door, thank you!” You admitted your defeat and surrendered your verbal power point on Why Helen Needs to Disappear. You would get her next time for sure, give her the accelerant to burn down that bridge. “Anyways, the reason I called was to remind you of our haunt for the night. One of the girls, Kelly, you remember Kelly, found this adorable little hole in the wall. A total boys’ club apparently: darts, pool, sports games on the TV, but Kelly’s sister’s friend’s brother Tyler said the place was a favourite of the local army guys. So, if nothing else, we’ll at least have some hunks to look at for a while. It’ll be great!”

You jotted down the directions to the bar as she listed them, and the time you were expected to arrive there.

“Oh! And wear that cute little blue number you bought last spring; I know you still have it so don’t you dare lie. It makes your ass and legs look divine, and I think you could stand to make a new acquaintance tonight.” That Little Blue Number was buried in the back of your closet where you had hoped it would remain forever, but luck was not on your side tonight it seemed. But it did make you look, and feel, fantastic.  It was just so… breezy. “And heels! Real ones, not your cute little personal assistant kitten heels. Those black strappy ones would work like a dream!” You just sighed dramatically into the receiver and agreed to her demands.

“I’ll let you go now, and yes, I suppose I can be presentable tonight, dress and all. See-ya later!”

---

Hole in the wall was right. This place was basically underground it was so on the D.L. It was warm inside though, and in the middle of autumn with so much skin on display, you could not be more pleased to get away from the chilled outside air.

You would describe the interior as comfortable with a hint of rustic; lots of warm dark wood and low lights, mixed with the soft Latin music crooning in the background and the few patrons’ conversations adding to the ambience.

All in all, it was probably the nicest dive bar you’d been to in your hometown.

Your party was easy to spot where they had claimed a group of pushed together tables towards the far side of the establishment, and you carefully made your way over to them in your tricky high heels.

You said your hellos to returning faces and introduced yourself to the new additions, and accepted the chair you were pointed to and the drink pressed into your hand.

And so, the hours rolled.

You had enjoyed two fruity cocktails and a flaming shot before you called it quits on the alcohol for the night. You still had a few hours to sober up enough to drive home safely, and you would be able to help the girls get to their rides and ways home too. You appreciated having a social drink or two, but you didn’t care for hangovers and would happily take slightly tipsy over party-hard drunk anytime. Plus, your contract stated you were on-call, always, and you could be required to navigate high-stress negotiations at the drop of a hat. It was just better to cut yourself off, then reap the consequences of your actions later.

You tapped your friend’s shoulder as you walked past and leaned over to talk into her ear. “I’m getting some water for the table; do you want anything else?”

“Mmmm, no I think we’re good for now, thanks!” She was plastered already, but she had a huge grin on her face and was laughing at her co-workers’ stories, so you considered it a win of a night. You gave her a pat goodbye and swayed your way to the bar.

But you just were not accounting for the uneven floorboards, or how much your heels affected your currently less than steady equilibrium, and before you could blink you were teetering over into a nasty fall.

“Whoa there, easy does it, muñequita” Arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into a warm chest. “Careful now, don’t go twisting an ankle in those fancy shoes.”

You certainly did not account for the man you turned around to face. Wow.

His hands glided respectfully from where he had caught you around the waist to your still bent and held out elbows, steadying you as you swayed dangerously again.

Warm brown eyes, soft brown curls, and the sweetest smile you’d ever seen. It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest, and you knew that it wasn’t left over adrenaline from your near wipeout. He was gorgeous and handling you so gently, and you wanted to spend forever in that moment.

“Hey there, palomita, I’m Frankie, can I buy you a drink?”

[Next Part]

[carmichealroyals]

CHARACTER INSPIRATION // C H A L L E N G E

Rules: Write up a blurb or make a visual collage of the people or characters (from books, TV shows, movies, etc.) that inspired your OC, either visually, personality wise, or just a general vibe.

I was tagged by this by so many lovely pals -- @thelockwoodroyals, @wa-royal-tea AND @ourwillowcreekroyals !!! I only feel bad that it took me so long but I wanted it to be as perfect as it could be while taking time to fiddle with Photoshop more (thank you @royaldevilliers for answering my silly questions). Below the cut are the descriptions for the personality types and tropes for each of the main three kids of this next generation! 

Not sure who’s done this yet, so if you see this and you want to do it, this is me telling you to do it!

CHARLOTTE:

The Protagonist:  Protagonists are natural-born leaders, full of passion and charisma. Forming around two percent of the population, they are oftentimes our politicians, our coaches and our teachers, reaching out and inspiring others to achieve and to do good in the world. With a natural confidence that begets influence, Protagonists take a great deal of pride and joy in guiding others to work together to improve themselves and their community.

Spirited Young Lady:  She is the girl who bends the rules just a little. Oh, she can dance a country dance or pour tea with the best of them, but she may also be a good walker or horseback rider. She may be the most intelligent girl in the story, and she is almost certainly the wittiest and the most outspoken, sometimes earning her the title of spitfire. She may be talented in more practical ways, as well: if given the opportunity, she may turn out to be a wise investor, and she may harbor talent for music, writing, or art that goes beyond drawing room entertainment and might become a means of financial independence if necessary. In rare cases, she may even solve a murder. Though she occasionally runs into some trouble, especially if she fails to obey the powers that be, she usually comes through in the end.

Deadpan Snarker: A character prone to gnomic, sarcastic, sometimes bitter, occasionally whimsical asides.The Deadpan Snarker exists to deflate pomposity, point out the unlikelihood of certain plans, and deliver funny lines. Typically the most cynical supporting character. In most cases, it is implied that the snarker would make a good leader, strategist, or consultant given their ability to instantly see the flaws in a constructed plan. More often than not, their innate snarkiness is the only thing preventing the other characters from comprehending this for themselves.

Politically Active Princess:  The Politically Active Princess is a princess that takes active interest in and plays an active role in politics. Naive courtiers and commoners alike might view her only as a figurehead, but in truth, she discreetly uses her position and guile in order to achieve her ends. Skilled in diplomacy, she will usually attempt to solve conflicts via conversation or bargaining, rather than combat. Her defining trait is her involvement in politics or diplomatic matters, without letting herself serve only as a bargaining chip.

Inspired by: Mia Thermopolis (The Princess Diaries); Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Vex’ahlia (Critical Role); Jenny Lee (Call the Midwife)

PETER: 

The Architect:  It can be lonely at the top. As one of the rarest personality types – and one of the most capable – Architects (INTJs) know this all too well. Rational and quick-witted, Architects may struggle to find people who can keep up with their nonstop analysis of everything around them.

The Dog Bites Back:  Unlike the Bastard Understudy and The Starscream, this character attacks as a crime of opportunity. There is no danger that he will take over the villain's place in the grand scheme of things. There is, however, a possibility that he will menace the others as a True Final Boss. The backstabber often ends up dead, but this is usually not Redemption Equals Death because their motive is not noble. Innocent victims who turn on the villain typically do it only for revenge, while evil victims prove that they were fine with all of the Big Bad's crimes except the one committed against them.

Middle Child Syndrome: Everyone loves the oldest child because the parents can rely on them, they watch out for their siblings, and they're so confidently attractive. The Youngest Child Wins because they're the "baby". But what does that leave the one in the middle? That's essentially the definition of Middle Child Syndrome, in which a child automatically may become The Unfavorite or the rebellious Black Sheep, specifically because they are the easiest child to overlook. They're not old enough to be given the responsibilities and privileges of the oldest, and the youngest child took their spot as the spoiled and doted-on "baby" of the family. This tends to be more of an issue when there are three children rather than four or more. Oftentimes in media, the middle child ends up becoming more of the Deadpan Snarker or the quirky one for this reason.

The Un-Favorite: Where there's an Alpha wolf, there's got to be a Beta. When there is a first banana, there is a second banana. This is the person in the family who can't get a break. For example, this is the child who's the big let-down to their parents, the daughter that was supposed to be a son (or vice-versa), the child the parents had by accident when they'd already decided they didn't need another mouth to feed, the adoptive, foster, or stepchild that came before the parents had a biological child, the illegitimate child conceived by infidelity on the part of one of the parents (if not even worse). But all in all, this is basically the kid who is always getting the short-end of the stick. In some extreme cases, this may cause Rich Sibling, Poor Sibling, especially if one sibling is forced into service to the other. A regular line that may be entailed with this is a variant of, "Honestly, [name], why can't you be more like [favorite's name]?"

Inspired by: Edith Crawley (Downton Abbey); Fiyero (Wicked: The Musical); Logan Huntzberger (Gilmore Girls); Rafael Solano (Jane the Virgin)

PEGGY: 

The Mediator:  Idealistic and empathetic, Mediators long for deep, soulful relationships, and they feel called to help others. But because this personality type makes up such a small portion of the population, Mediators may sometimes feel lonely or invisible, adrift in a world that doesn’t seem to appreciate the traits that make them unique.

The Baby of the Bunch: Being the youngest of your group typically comes with some perks and challenges. On one side you're probably the cutest, have a pass to act immature, people like taking care of you, and you can embrace your fun side, knowing that the elders are there to handle the serious stuff. And if there's anything you're naïve about, you have plenty of others to give you the realest unfiltered advice without the generational gap and detachment that your parents or the Old Master have. On the other end, sometimes people don't take you seriously. There you're kinda stuck because no matter how old you get, you'll always be "the baby" in their eyes.

Indifferent Beauty: A character who is attractive, aware of their effect on other people, but doesn't care or at least doesn't value their physical attractiveness over their other traits. Often, this character is a consummate professional who is well aware of the fact that they could use their "assets" to get what they want by other means, but feels that it would be unprofessional or beneath their dignity, and is instead focused on proving that they can compete purely on skill, often to the exclusion of romantic opportunities. While such characters are not averse to dressing in sexy outfits, they don't plan on relying on or even exploiting their sex appeal - but the camera will often do that for them. Other characters' indifference is not due to regarding relying on appearance to be beneath their dignity, but rather that they consider it to be unimportant.

Spoiled Sweet:  The Spoiled Sweet character is a naive, spoiled, rich or comfortably upper-class or upper-middle-class girl, who has everything they could ever want, but instead of being mean, she is as nice as can be to everyone. While still spoiled, slightly naive, perhaps shallow, maybe even a bit selfish at times, when it comes right down to it, she is a loyal friend and doesn't use her money or popularity as an excuse to treat everyone like garbage — though the trope Rich in Dollars, Poor in Sense is in play, especially since a particularly common sticking point is that characters of this type often believe their friends and other loved ones deserve to live just as well as they do.

Inspired by: Rory Gilmore (Gilmore Girls); Beth March (Little Women); Pike Trickfoot (Critical Role); Peggy Schuyler (Hamilton: An American Musical)

[mimiatmidnight]

Predictions on Baby Girl Sussex?

I’m FREEEEEEEE from finals and ready to chat with you all once again! Thank you all for being so patient, I’m so excited to dive into all your questions and give them the novel-length responses they deserve 😉

I’m assuming you mean name predictions haha, cause the only other thing I can think of to predict would be her birthday (for the record, I’ll go ahead and put my sister’s birthday, June 10th, for no reason other than I predicted my own birthday, April 26th, for Archie!). But I love talking about baby names (as you can see by the length of this post 😅), so let’s get into it.

So I fully expect to be completely taken aback by their pick. Like not even on the same planet as my predictions. Cause that’s just how those two roll lmao. But IF they’re staying in the same theme as Archie’s name, I’m expecting something that’s also short, possibly nickname-y, kind of dusty and vintage, but with a whimsical charm, just like Archie’s. I am still operating with the assumption that she will one day be Princess (whether or not that actually happens, of course, remains to be seen), so I’m trying to keep that title in mind. And also, given that name meanings appear to hold significance to them, I tried to at least somewhat keep meanings in mind. So, in no particular order:

Eloise

“Healthy; wide”

French, English

I am SO charmed by this name. If I hadn’t already decided on Elliott for my future son’s name, this name would be right at the top of my future daughter’s list. I just thinks it’s so delightfully playful yet still timeless and classic. It gives easy and pretty nicknames with Ellie and Ella, or even Lizzy (possibly to honor her great-grandmother?). “Archie and Eloise” sounds so perfect and natural to me, without sounding kitschy or too over the top with the matching. “Princess Eloise” is so deliciously perfect, it just fits together like a puzzle piece.

Eleanor

Unknown meaning

English, French

Eleanor hits almost all the same beats I mentioned above for Eloise, even down to the lovely Ellie/Ella nicknames. It’s even more royal than Eloise, with such heady associations as the legendary Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine (not to mention the American Queen, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt!). Eloise is closer to my heart, but I’d be thrilled with Eleanor as well.

Greta

“Pearl”; diminutive of Margaret

German

This one’s quite old-fashioned, but I think it’s so charming and would make an adorable name on a little girl. And fun fact, the name Meghan comes from a nickname for Margaret, which is why both those names as well as Greta all mean “Pearl.” So this would be a perfect way to honor little girl’s mama in a more subtle way.

Poppy

“Red flower”

Latin, English

Spunky yet sweet. Pays tribute to her mother’s homeland of California, while also sounding very at home in her father’s homeland of the UK. A flower name in honor of her mama’s own mama. This scarlet name would be even more perfect if the Ginger Avenger manages to make himself another little Gingette. And as I said to one of my anons the other day, “Princess Poppy” is so screeching cute I might actually combust if I think about it too much, so let’s move on.

Lea

“Meadow; weary”

English

To be totally honest, this one is mostly just because I’ve been addicted to listening to “Lea” by TOTO on repeat lately. Although “Princess Lea” might be a bit too . . . you know. Stor Wors. Even though the sci-fi princess pronounces her name differently, I think they’ll probably still want to avoid that association. Still, that song is heavenly and the name goes with all my criteria so I’m putting it in anyways.

Hazel

“Hazelnut tree”

English

Another nature name, one that I’m sure our favorite Earth Mama will enjoy ;) It’s newly popular, but in my opinion still retains that distinctive and whimsical uniqueness of a name that’s much further on the fringe than Hazel actually is. I can just picture a little hazel-eyed princess running barefoot around her gorgeous backyard, wild hair all spread out as she lays underneath a hazelnut tree. Ugh, so cute.

Etta

“Estate ruler”; feminine diminutive of Henry

English, Scottish

I suppose in response to Archie’s middle name Harrison, I’ve seen some Squaddies predict Henrietta for his little sister. And um . . . that is not a favorite of mine 😅 But if Harry wants to add his brand to his second little munchkin as well, why not Henrietta’s much more sleek and dynamic offshoot, Etta? It's got that old school feel, with also a spark of liveliness. I also love that it ties to their Black ancestry through one of the most legendary Queens of American Soul Music, Etta James.

Maeve

“She who intoxicates”

Irish

Incredibly endearing with a rich history. For my own personal use, this safer option might actually be called upon for my future daughter if I never manage to work up the courage to use my actual long-time Irish favorite, Saoirse. But for Harry and Meghan, I can’t really see them using this one. Still, I felt like I needed an M name to cover all my bases, and this is one of the few that I like. Some other honorable “M”entions (get it?) include Maisie, Melody, and Madeleine (thank you to my lovely anon for this one!).

Francesca

“From France; free man”; variation of Frances

Italian

I haven’t really mentioned middle names here, mostly because this post is long enough already and middle name combos just add a whole other level of crazy. But given the enormous legacy of her grandmother, I am extremely torn on whether Baby Girl will be getting a name in her honor. If her parents so choose, Diana’s middle name Frances, or even it’s more ornately feminine variation, Francesca, would be lovely honors for the little princess to carry. If they do end up honoring Diana, I’d expect it to be in Baby Girl’s middle name.

Violet

“Purple”

Latin, English

One last flower name for Earth Mama Meghan. Violet was my top pick for Archie when he was still the mysterious Baby Sussex, but though it has since fallen from my top spot, it still is a lovely, classic name of inarguable feminine grace, yet with an underlying core of strength and fortitude. I feel like Violet is a woman who ties her hair back with a soft velvet bow, but then hitches up her skirts, draws her sword, and shows the battlefield who’s boss. I just love the duality of this name, and I think it would be a lovely gift for a little girl.

Alice

“Noble”

German

Vintage, classic, girly, and solidly royal, this name calls to mind white rabbits and looking glasses. Once again, on a personal note, this might be an option for my future daughter if I chicken out on trying to get everyone to pronounce Alicia correctly. I love that name in the Spanish pronunciation, “Ah-lee-see-ah,” but I find the Anglicized “Ah-lee-sha” to be dreadful and I wouldn’t want to burden my girl with a lifetime of corrections. Anyways, Alice is just as elegant, if not quite as ornate, and in any case is much more likely for our British-American princess. Plus, what a stunning pair of name meanings to gift these two siblings: “Brave” Archie and “Noble” Alice. They sound straight out of an Arthurian legend. (Plus, how cute would “Archie and Alice” sound!)

Honorable Mentions Cause I Need To Wrap This Shit Up:

Evie/Edie (both follow all the E names I wrote about above, and Edie in particular is a modern name full of moxie that would be a great nickname for the older, traditional Edith)

Lily (yet another flower name, and I just like the sound of this one)

Spencer (another possible route to honoring Granny Diana, yet maintaining a much more modern and spunky taste than Frances, while also being less direct)

Clara (of Nutcracker fame, adding here mostly because I think I’d melt if I heard this in Harry’s voice and accent)

Lucy (same vibes as Alice and Clara)

Ivy (cute, simple, girly nature name, but unfortunately already in use by the daughter of Meghan’s close friend Jessica Mulroney)

Zoe (I have absolutely no personal connection to this name, but for some reason it just now randomly popped into my head as something they might choose, so here ya go)

So yeah! Sorry this was so long, but it was super fun! Thank you for sending in this great question. I’d love to hear all your guys’ name predictions, dream picks, and wild card guesses!