#oh being an adult and having hobbies and a social life and work is hard

[warmsol]

do you crave to be home playing with your sims while you’re out or are you normal

[sojourner-between-worlds]

Things about being a Christian I've had to unlearn as an adult:

Spending a lot of time on/ being invested in something doesn't make it an idol. This is not how that works, bestie. Look. I get that the advice "if you spend more time on x hobby than you do reading the Bible and praying" is well-intentioned, but it's just plain Bad. There are a lot of hobbies that take significant amounts of time. Art. Writing. Trade hobbies, like woodworking. I spent two hours Saturday putting in a garden (now that I have space for one!), and not spending two hours and one minute on Bible reading doesn't mean that gardening is now an idol for me. It means I got into a groove and just kept going (and got terribly sunburned for my trouble). What makes something an idol is NOT how much time you spend on it but rather the importance you place upon it. Sometimes important things take five minutes and sometimes they take an hour; the thing that took five minutes isn't less important because it took up less of your time. If your thought process is "this is more important than spending time with God", that is what makes your hobby an idol. (If you are constantly foregoing your time with God in favor of a hobby, then I'd say you need to re-evaluate your priorities, but spending a lot of time on something does not inherently make it an idol. Not to mention that a lot of hobbies can still bring you closer to God despite not spending that time intentionally for that purpose.)

Not having your "quiet time"/ devotions every day does not make you a "bad" Christian. This goes hand-in-hand with the previous point, and there's a lot I could say on this topic, but what it boils down to is this: God understands our human limits and the brains He gave us that sometimes make it difficult -- autism and ADHD and OCD and [fill in the blank]. I'm autistic. So when (well-meaning) people say things like, "you can't get to know God if you don't spend time with Him!" about praying and reading the Bible -- well, 'spending time' looks different for me. Socializing is difficult for me. And while socializing with God is obviously different than with people, praying is still far more mentally draining for me than for most people (especially growing up in an environment where it was implied that you have to 'say the right things' when you pray instead of just allowing it to be a conversation, but that's the next point). A lot of "socializing" for me is simply being present with someone else. This is called "parallel play": you're doing your own thing in the same space as someone else while they are also doing their own thing. This...doesn't translate well to Christianity and what Christianity is "supposed" to look like, unfortunately, so I constantly felt shame that none of the common advice worked for me when it seemed to work for everyone else. Set a time? Executive dysfunction makes switching tasks hard and once that set time has passed, "well, it's too late now". Having a reading plan? I'd miss a day, fall behind, and the shame at that would keep me from continuing to try. And when I did manage to stay on track, quite often it simply became a box to check off and that was it. So, now, I do what I can, when I can. I always get more out of it, and I think God cares more about that than sticking to a plan just so you can say you read every day anyway.

"Don't script your prayers! They'll become repetitive and you won't think about or mean them!" Oh, boy. Once again, I get the well-intentioned meaning here. You don't want your prayers to become rote and stale. But as someone with high anxiety, scripting them is the only way I can survive praying aloud with other people, and, in fact, it means I put more thought into them, not less! But hearing this kind of advice coupled with an environment where it was implied you had to say 'the right things, the right way' was absolutely detrimental to my prayer life growing up. I was always worried about saying the wrong thing, especially as an undiagnosed autistic who was constantly, ya know, saying the wrong things in conversations with people. So I definitely didn't want to say the wrong things to God! But... I also wasn't allowed to plan what to say? How was I supposed to pray then? So I just. didn't pray. For a very long time. Until I learned its just as perfectly okay to talk to God about whatever crosses your mind while you're standing at the sink doing dishes as it is sitting down with a list of things to focus on. (Not to mention that this really is just...terrible advice in general. Kudos to my pastor, who, in his current Sunday night series on worship, actually gave a tutorial on how to personalize praying the Psalms. So, you know, pre-written prayers.)

Purity Culture. Need I say more? Oh, I could write a whole post about how harmful this is, but plenty of people already have, so I'll leave it at this: I wear what I am comfortable wearing now. Something I love about my church is that our philosophy on modesty is this: The greatest sin of immodesty is saying "look at me" instead of "look at God." In other words, modest isn't about what you're wearing so much as what your attitude about what you're wearing is. If you choose what to wear because you want people to notice and stare and give you compliments, then that is immodest no matter how much of your skin is covered up. It's not immodest to wear clothes you like and that you think are attractive (or that help you look professional when its called for), but ultimately your mindset is really not about "dressing to impress." (There is a very thin line between 'modest' and 'immodest' and its not where most people think it is.)

[why-the-heck-not]

1, 2, 37, and a question you wish someone asked

Thank youu for asking !!

1: Age

23

2: Sexuality

Bi

37: Do you regret quitting any hobbies?

yeees big time. I used to do ballet for like 13 years but quit bc had to change to a different city bc they didn’t have advanced things where I used to go and all my friends quit somewhere at that point, so the last couple years I didn’t rly have friends there. Also I wasn’t like trying to go pro or anything and sort of that was as far I could go with it if I wasn’t rly going to be serious abt it. I think I also got too anxious and self-aware at that point (damn u 16-year-old-me)

96: What's the worst book you've ever read?

Picked this bc I’ve been wanting to rant about Normal People by Sally Rooney for a bit. Maybe it’s not The Worst book I’ve ever read, but it wasn’t good and for the amount of hype it has, it sucked.

My ”review” (if u can call it that) below SPOILERS FOR ”NORMAL PEOPLE” BY SALLY ROONEY

I feel like there was potential there but in the end it just kept repeating the same cycle of them being together and then getting separated. Like it just kept going???? It got old after like 2-3 times.

And there really wasn’t even an attempt made for character building. It was all very surface level and it felt like neither of them actually grew up during the years and got stuck with that high-school level of communication when they in fact were grown ass adults like?? Act like it!!!! What the fuck was the problem there like ,,?? If u want to be together, you can be together; you’re no longer in high-school and ”having to take care of ur social status” (which also is one tired old trope). Literally give us one (1) reason why tf it’s so hard to commit to eachother when u clearly can commit to other ppl?? If the intention was to make the reader frustrated with them, I’d be okay with it if the book gave actual reasons for that. But it didn’t bc it’s all so goddamn one dimensional. The ”they can’t be together bc they’re wired wrong and traumatized and mentally ill” just doesn’t work when you don’t dwell deeper into the underlaying issues. It especially felt like the author just gave up on Marianne’s character at the end and went with the ”oh she was traumatized? That means she has some kinks and that is now her entire personality”.

Also the ending just felt so rushed and I hated it. Nothing got resolved in a real way. The redemption arc? He got to succeed and had some opportunities etc., and she just got the guy and that’s about it. Yes, you could read it like in the beginning he had a loving family but no money, where as in she had money but not the loving family, so in the end they got what they wanted as a kid. But that’s so blah. There was nothing suprising about it. It felt like they both gave up and settled for whoever was left and it wasn’t out of actual love; just the residual feelings from pining after eachother for a million years.

Overall, it just felt pretentious and it didn’t have enough dimension to actually create believable mentally unwell characters. It barely had a plot. I get it from the marketing point of view bc an easy read that has some edgy topics sprinkled with fanfiction tropes, but it just wasn’t good.

(This is just my opinion, don’t let me deter you if I just bashed ur comfort book; you like it and that’s all that matters. Mine is A Little Life, so I’m in no position to judge lmao)

[processofliving]

What is our purpose in life.

What is our purpose in life?

Growing up I’ve been surrounded by people who seem to know their purpose. Whether that be in the job they want to do when they’re a bit older and what steps to take to get there, the ideology they want to disperse, or a certain lifestyle they want to adhere to. It always worried me. I’ve never felt this sense of purpose other people seem to possess. And in this day and age, where people tend to share their purpose of life in one way or another online, it is hard to feel accepted when you’ve got anything but that. You feel like you need a purpose to be accepted in society.

I’ve always felt ashamed to answer that I really don’t have a clue when asked about what I want to be when I’m older. There are so many interesting and fun things one can do in this world that committing to just one almost seems moronic. Yet when you answer that you’re not sure, people look at you as if you’re the moronic one. They think of you as that person who hasn’t got their life figured out yet. They say things like: “Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out eventually”, or just a simple: “Oh, okay”, and give you that half-smile where they pretend to reassure you that you’ll figure it out while secretly they’re judging you for not having your whole life planned out. And you’re left feeling like you don’t belong. So, next time someone asks, you pretend like you do know (kind of, at least). Just to fit in.

While having a sense of purpose must be great, it almost seems like a competition. We should all travel before we’re thirty years old and we should get a well-paying job in a field that we have always dreamed of and we should have a social life on the side but also make time to go to the gym and we should all settle down with a significant other, preferably also before the age of thirty. And then when you’re past the age of thirty you should have an outstanding resume containing all the things you have already done and know exactly which direction to go in for the remainder of your adult life. And as you get older, let’s say fifty, you should know exactly who you are, be committed to a job in a field you’ve been in for the past twenty years and be settled down with a partner and preferably some kids. And, most of all, we should all grow up to be happy. Finding ultimate happiness is completely unattainable, but that is for another time.

It’s wild though, isn’t it. How we as people project our expectations on others. I have never met anyone who was exactly like someone else. And with each day and week and month and year and life stage we change, and then change again and again, all the way up until we die. Yet most of us place the same expectations on everyone.

My humble guess would be that maybe our purpose in life should be to be ourselves, whether that means getting married or staying single, working in the same field for the next forty years or switching jobs every couple of months, or committing to one hobby or trying out every hobby there is over the duration of just two weeks. 

Maybe our purpose, ultimately, is to be the person you feel most comfortable with on that particular day. Who are you living for anyway? This is your time to be selfish.

Perhaps our purpose in life is to just be ourselves in the way that we appreciate ourselves to be. With or without purpose. Because purpose doesn’t define you. But being yourself does.

[ivydarkrose]

i seen from your latest blog that you have been depressed the past days i might say? Anyway i just wanted to tell you to not feel down we be here to listen if you wanted to vent about your problems and if they don't then I'm here to listen❤️ (sincerely can't do anything about it or some but I'll listen to you ( ˶ ❛ ꁞ ❛ ˶ ))

(i follow at insta, twitter , here and at DeviantArt) you have nothing to worry im not a creep ;-;

I just feel sad when one of my favorite artist is feeling down :(

I'm kind of an awkward not so social person so i don't know if im making sense or what ;-; I'll hope your having a nice day tho! (〃ﾟ3ﾟ〃)

(Oh another one it seems like nathan's name pronunciation is like 'Nae-tan' or some but i wanted to say when i first see him at internet i pronounce his name as 'Nah-Tan' ;-;)

-im an artist too✨

I've kept this in my inbox for so long as a pick me up. Never figured out who, but thank you anon for the moral support even if it was just for this moment in time. This last year i've been struggling, badly. from physical health to mental health. Not to get too much into TW territoy but I've gotten so close to the edge of depression and nearly game ended for some of those low times. Thank you for everyone here just vibing and lending their ears for support even if I refused to ask for help. (working on it) Its hard to open up and be vulnerable with others especially with my history of trusting the wrong people, stemming back as far as minor and not having adults i trust to speak to. I don't ask for help, or explain that I am homeless and hopeless as I am scared of being judged for what I see as my own weakness and that I failed to be a "healthy" person. I even extend this to how bad of a creator I am... Ive said things like "I wish *character* was more well known" in the fractured mind of thinking that if I was successful that would mean I wasn't a failure. I've been doing soul searching, inner child work, etc to just get my head clear from my own dark thoughts. I've become so grateful for what I have, and been (even if a little bit) more independent. All this is so hard, but thank you all even if its silent support. I am grateful. I am sorry for making this post depressing, i've held this all in for so long. I do hope I can be healthier. Less codepenant, scared, etc. Less fear of being misunderstood because I choose my words poorly. I don't want my depression to be a constant on here or any of my platforms. I rather get others to laugh, or be excited about mutually interesting hobbies, fandoms etc. Maybe even be a minor distraction from life? I really hope what I am trying to say is coming across.

[theveryworstthing]

So over on patreon Trevor asked for my take on the Addams Family and I grew up LOVING the Addams family movies so here we are. Instead of doing a straight up style interpretation, I decided to do a full on design challenge, using the characters as bases to make a black southern gothic Addams au. I actually drew the kids first, using the character bases of Wednesday and Pugsley to create some delightful kiddos I'm calling Sunday and Blanche. I of course then redesigned Gomez and Morticia into Carlisle and Mortesha.

The Addams have a very specific high aristocratic goth aesthetic (they've got a butler and nobody really works among other things) so in this re-imagining I wanted to go with vibes that run a little more middle class/upper middle class.  I thought it would be interesting to think about what would be considered weird and off-putting in an entirely different culture, and how being a big ol' goth is way less controversial than it used to be.

I tried to keep this short (HAHAHAHAHAHA) so I didn't spin off into an essay about villain coded families, black people in the horror genre, and normalcy as it pertains to social survival, but just...bits of that are in these designs and lore. Keep that in mind.

Also I made the kids twins because they've flip flopped in age so much in different media and also twins run in my family (i'm the daughter of one). And let's face it, I'm pulling a lot of their southern gothic traits from living as a southern goth so *shrug*.

10 thousand pounds of lore incoming loooooooooool.

The Parents

From the moment he saw her he knew that there was a 50/50 chance of him either never making it out of that swamp alive or marrying the figure that was creeping out from under the distant willow tree in a black cocktail dress. The third time she found him trussed up in one of her traps, he complimented her rope work and asked if she'd like to go out sometime after his head wound stopped bleeding.

Or while it was still bleeding.

If she was into that.

Some kids and a mysteriously burnt down Piggly Wiggly later, their love is still as strong and inescapable as a bear trap in a sink hole.

Carlisle Guillermo (now Addams through marriage but I wanted to give him two first names for a name since Gomez has two last names) makes a vaguely described living practicing ‘law’ around town. A loophole king, people come to him from miles around with contracts signed in blood, fights over chunks of hair buried in their rivals’ yard, dehydrated primate hands, memories that seemed like dreams until the evidence of their happenings became too real, and other regular Legal Items asking for counsel which he is all too happy to give. For a price. Sometimes that price is a homemade pie and sometimes it’s a million dollars, depends on who you are. Whatever you’re asked to pay it’s worth that price, and if you try to scam him out of work or he just plain doesn’t like you? Well. He knows how to twist a contract better than anything at the crossroads.

And he always gets his due.

He doesn’t just serve the local (living)humans though, there are many things that need proper legal representation in this day and age. You wouldn’t believe how many city councils try to build on sacred burial grounds even after he lets them know that his ghostly clients are totally gonna haunt the FUCK out of the ensuing shitty condos and curse their families for all eternity. At least 50% of his energy goes towards dealing with real estate bullshit.

Carl is an excitable and good natured(?) man who loves his family, cigars, dancing, and his many knife-based hobbies. People find him very charming once they get past the feeling that they’re talking to a sultry gator badly disguising itself as a human. I didn’t put a ton of deep thought into designing him, mostly I wanted to make a middle aged dude who looked like he would have been voted ‘most likely to smooch the literal devil’ in high school. Tbh he probably has, but no demonic ex’s can compare to his lovely wife~

Mortesha Addams(her name was already perfect so I just tweaked it)is a woman of many talents. A self proclaimed homemaker, she prides herself on a greenhouse full of Concerning Foliage, a beautiful wasp apiary, and a coop full of what are probably chickens that she keeps for what are probably eggs. She’s also an avid creator of the outsider art that can be seen around the estate. She has taken on the family business of selling her homemade goods in a little stall by the road just outside the swamp with her mom, and makes pretty good money doing so. A surprising amount of poison gets bought in quaint southern towns.

Speaking of poison, people who come out to the edge of the swamp to buy it are usually carrying a lot of secrets around, and Mortesha knows most of them. It’s not like she pries the truth out of people, it just so happens that many nervous hellos eventually turn into the tragic backstory power hour if she’s alone with a client for long enough. She supposes that’s just how people are. Despite the fact that the Addams are very active in the community (whether the community likes it or not) she especially, as a direct descendant of the first Addams matriarch, is seen as…Well not an outsider because the community feels A Certain Way about outsiders and despite it all the Addams are their people, but maybe something like an exception. They feel like whatever weirdness they’re hiding can’t be weirder than any given Addams, so they get a little loose with their words.

This is amusing to her, since Addams’ don’t naturally keep the kind dramatic secrets that their surface level prim and proper neighbors do. It’s much more fun to openly talk about those things.

Do they have a sadly decrepit yet terrifying grandma up in the attic? Yeah, like three. They got a tv, all the creepy porcelain dolls they could want, and they’re close to family. Where do you keep your gram-grams?

Any bodies buried on the property? Yeah some, but most are thrown to the gators.

Any creeping through the balmy summer night with ill intentions? Yeah dude, everyone loves a nice family stroll.

What about dangerous forbidden love? If an adult Addams isn’t incorporeal then they’re either queer or in a torrid romance with some person/thing mysteriously drawn to that awful swamp. Sometimes both at the same time. Most times actually.

Mortesha would know.

The current head of the Addams family is just as outgoing as her husband but a lot quieter and harder to read. She never really seems to get mad about much and always has a genteel smile for everyone whether they deserve it or not. A seven foot tall human shaped “Oh, bless your heart”. A perfectly composed Lady even when she’s, oh I dunno, burning down a Piggly Wiggly. You know. A regular southern mom. Chat her up at the hair salon for 50% off a jar of wasp honey with your next purchase of a mysterious but foreboding packet of herbs.

Designing her was pretty easy because I just drew a lankier Grace Jones and called it a day. I had some problems with her outfit simply because if we were going HARD southern gothic then she’d probably be wearing a white/cream dress with a fuller skirt but I thought keeping the silhouette and the black was more important. She’s supposed to be an anti southern gothic southern gothic character anyway. A woman who looks like she has a million secrets who is actually the most open person you could meet. For better or worse. The red hair came from a coloring error that I really ended up liking (my mom had red hair her whole childhood that only darkened up in high school so I can buy that an Addams can be naturally fire engine red) and the veil was to get more of that classic Morticia silhouette in there.

The Children

Sunday and Blanche are the twin children of Carlisle and Mortesha Addams. Some say the Addams clan got their cursed homestead when a wealthy local businessman made a deal with the devil and lost, leaving his grand mansion to his least favorite maid and cutting his losses once he realized that the swamp would do everything it could to drag the house into the water and take what was owed with its horrible curse. Others say that the family has just always squatted there and no one really cares because man, fuck that particular swamp. Have you been in there? Absolute horror show.

Anyway.

Blanche is the more outgoing sibling and quite the engineer/mad scientist in the making. He started going grey at 2 weeks old but considering he was also rocking some extra fingers, toes, and a tiny tail (he takes after his dad), his parents just put it on the 'not life threatening' pile and decided not to worry about it. He's the kind of smart that teachers find utterly infuriating, less a dog eagerly learning and obeying commands and more a hyena who keeps teaching itself how to pick locks. He has a few friends in his school's robotics club (which they honestly allowed him to make so the school could contain his... creations) but mostly hangs out with his sister exploring the swamp. They find all sorts of neat things in there! wedding rings, suspiciously lumpy garbage bags, cloaked cultists who can't read private property signs, it's an adventure every day!

Blanche is all about experimentation with his creations, his look, and his tether to this mortal coil. Is lipstick a cool thing to try? Let's find out. Can he get out of a strait jacket fast enough after being pushed into the depths of the swamp by his sister? let's find out. He's not dead yet and confused local doctors can attest to the fact that he's rarely attained more than a bad bruise so he's pretty set on continuing to kiss rattlesnakes on their cute little heads and have his sister practice her knife throwing at him until that fact changes.

Blanche is very much a country goth. Cowboy boots (customized by his mom), knife, and lighter are daily accessories. He likes to wear the crusty swamp jewelry they find (the rust adds a splash of color!) and despite appearances he does try to keep himself neat. He's just got  natural Grunge Colors and a tendency to wear clothes he likes until they fall apart. Pugsley always seemed the most modernly styled to me (which might just be because little boys clothes have been the same for a long time) so I wanted Blanche to be the most purposely fashionable Addams. Everyone else is goth by nature, but he's the only one truly familiar with goth as an alternative fashion.

I got really into designing Blanche because honestly, I find Pugsley to be the most boring member of the family. And he was hard to design! I had to mess with his vibe a lot to get him looking how I wanted. I know he's supposed to evoke an " 'evil' little boy next door who's parents never reign him in", but that's just goth Dennis The Menace.  I's 2020. We can at least go queer goth Calvin.

Sunday was much easier to design. Wednesday was my favorite as a child (of course) and I really wanted to keep the spirit of her look while adding things like billowy sleeves (it gets HOT down here), big poofy twists instead of braids, and a nice tie. She's a professional after all, been running the local pet cemetery since she was 6 and the previous groundskeeper met with an unfortunate accident after telling her that tarantulas don't have souls. Her specialty is creating beautiful naturalistic animal funerals similar to those that Maquenda (https://linktr.ee/artofmaquenda) makes, and she takes pride in creating miniature dioramas of her subjects after each burial which she uses as a kind of 3D catalog for future clients.

She really wants to try out her skills on humans one day. Well. Publicly try out her skills. Lotta random bodies float into the swamp. None of them have turned down her requests for diorama models so far. Most seem downright flattered. Plus, she usually figures out which graveyard/crime scene they floated over from and gets her parents to give them a lift back. She'll even help enact terrifying revenge from beyond the grave on whoever put them there if she's not, y'know, busy.

Besides arts, crafts, and pet based funerary arrangements, Sunday is an avid lover of archery (any ranged weapon really), books where little fantasy adventure animals die dramatic deaths, and history. She is That Kid who eagerly raises her hand when asked who Christopher Columbus was and ends up being sent out of class after 15 minutes for making 'a scene'. Her favorite party trick is just picking an item in the room and talking about how it relates to either some obscure historical figure with a buck wild life or a horrible disaster. At least one charity pancake breakfast ended with children in tears after her vivid description of the Great Molasses Flood of 1919.

Social-wise, while Wednesday is the girl that people ask to smile because they think she'd, "look so pretty", Sunday is rarely asked anything at all. People just kind of assume from her quiet nature (in between horrible history facts) that she's angry all the time and that she hates everyone. This is untrue. She hates some people but she's ambivalent to most everyone else and even downright friendly if you bother to talk to her like a person instead of a terrifying cryptid. Like, she IS a terrifying cryptid but she's also a little girl.  

That’s about it for now. One day I might do the other family members but for now I’m happy with the four I’ve redesigned. Making an au! Lurch in a family that doesn’t do butlers could be interesting. Over on patreon I put forth that he could just be Motesha’s mute little brother (similar bone structure) but Amy Crook had the nice idea of quote: “ a mysterious "cousin" that "helps around the house" whose origins are both long in the past and faintly unsettling. He's good for lifting heavy things, like that tank of propane you're about to throw into the burning Piggly Wiggly... “ which i now consider canon. Who's kid is he? How old is he? Not important. Anyone willing to commit arson with you is family.

Annnnyway.  This challenge was a lot of fun! I love indulging in AU’s.

[blueeyedgeorgie]

Scandalous(1)

An infamous Influencer that is known for getting into drama befriends ImAllexx, George doesn’t trust them one bit. 

Gif cred. @sdmngifs

Pairing: George Memeulous x Reader

WC: 2.2k+

Pronouns: They/Them

____________

For the entire day, Alex seemed to constantly be on his feet. At first, George really didn't pay much attention to it, after all, sometimes people just have busy days. Usually for George, his days weren't anything special. He'd just wake up and lay around the house. He'd make sure to film a video every couple of days and could be found playing a bit of FIFA or COD. 

George didn't have much of a reason to leave his shared flat. He'd usually go over to one of his friend's places to hang out or film a collab, every now and then he'd go out shopping to get a couple of things for a video or just the flat. Still, George wasn't the type of person to find reasons to rush around or try and get as many tasks done as possible, it was one of the many perks that came with being a YouTuber.

It was normal to see Alex running around once in a while. He'd like to go out and do things like playing football with a few of his mates or just going out and being around people. But today seemed different, as though he was planning for something important to happen. 

At first, George didn't feel the need to ask his flatmate about what was going on. But while the day rolled on and Alex seemed to only go back and forth from making phone calls to typing away on his computer, George's curiosity had begun to eat himself up from inside.

As the afternoon rolled around, George found himself seated on the couch. He had been wasting a good portion of his day watching whatever he could find on the TV that was actually interesting. Earlier he had filmed a few videos for his second channel, he looked at the Reddit page for usual funny content and then proceeded to go on a Twitter page and look at nostalgic videos and photos for a second video.

Usually with some luck, George would be able to find something good to put on TV, but today just seemed like one of those days where you couldn't find anything good to watch. So as a final resort, he had turned on some Spongebob cartoons, it seemed like he only had enough luck to have the old cartoons from the early 2000's play. 

While watching the yellow sponge on TV, George had checked a few of his social medias, wondering if there was anything else that was going on that could possibly hold his attention for longer than ten minutes.

Maybe he just needed a new hobby, something to keep attention for more than five minutes. FIFA was fun, but you could only play it so many times.

"Hey George?"

The sound of his flatmate's voice had pulled him out of his thoughts. Standing behind the couch, Alex was typing away on his iPhone. He had taken a quick look to make eye contact with George before returning to his text messages. Turning around, the brunette man gave his attention to his flatmate, "What's up?"

"I don't know if you remembered, but I'm having someone come out to the UK to spend a couple of days with me to film some collabs and just get to know each other," sliding his phone in his back pocket, Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. "Hopefully this turns out all good."

How did this slip his mind? Alex had been mentioning he was planning to do this with someone for the past couple of weeks. As the days rolled on, when he became busier and busier, it all made sense. Alex was only making sure everything was going to go smoothly when whoever was going to come to the UK.

"Shit, that totally slipped my mind, sorry," George brushed a hand through his hair with a short sigh. "Are they gonna stay with us or are they staying at a hotel? Maybe they're doing something completely different."

"Hotel," as he responded, Alex began to rock back and forth on the heels of his feet. "They're gonna get here in two days and when they show up me and a couple of our friends are gonna go out and get some drinks, just to get more comfortable with one another. You coming with us?"

"I don't see why not," giving a shrug, George leaned his head against the palm of his hand, supporting his head to sit at a certain angle. "Are you interested in this influencer or something, you keep saying you wanna get comfortable with them."

"Well, they aren't really my type. Also, they're gonna be hanging around us for a few days, so of course I wanna be comfortable around them."

"Who even is 'they'? Does this influencer have a name?" George let out another sigh as he looked up at his flatmate. 

"They're Y/n L/n."

Y/n L/n, George had heard that name a few times in the influencer world. One thing he knew for sure, Y/n was much bigger than both Alex and George's channels combined. So why was Y/n planning to come and hang around them for a while?

That wasn't the only question rushing through George's mind, from what he had heard about Y/n (which was very little) he knew they were a very scandalous person. Having them around didn't seem like too bright of an idea, maybe Alex just wanted to collab with them to gain a bit more in subscribers... George knew it'd be smart to keep Y/n at arm's length while they'd be in the UK. After all, they'd only be here for a couple of days, so how hard could it be?

"Oh."

"Just 'oh'?" Alex raised a brow at his flatmate, "What is it?"

"Nothing, I just took me a moment to realize who they were," George turned back to face the TV, implying the conversation had come to an end.   

"Alright, I'm gonna get back to making sure the flat isn't a typical mess," Alex sighed, taking a step back from the couch.

"Cool," George mumbled as he watching the yellow sponge on TV run beside a pink star. 

If Y/n got Alex caught up in anymore drama, he'd have a fit. He had seen his flatmate come so far since the last time drama was in his life. There'd be a chance that would grow bigger and bigger everytime they hung out that Alex could get caught up in a scandal. 

Even though Alex's a grown adult, sometimes he could make really stupid decisions. But that was the thing, Alex is a human being, he's allowed to make mistakes. All George wanted for this whole collab to into come back around and bite Alex in the ass. But it was too late, Y/n was going to be here soon and whatever happens, just happens. There wasn't much George could do besides distancing himself away from Y/n.

"Alright, I think I have enough shirts, I better go double-check to see if I have my toiletries all packed up," Y/n had mumbled under their breath in the midst of packing. Even though they were a big YouTuber and could simply pay someone to pack for them, Y/n had decided to pack for this one trip. 

"Y/n, where the fuck are you?" 

The sound of someone's voice had become louder, Y/n could tell their friend was entering their bedroom.

"I'm just in the bathroom, Bret!" They had responded while looking underneath their bathroom sink for a few more toiletries. 

"Are you seriously leaving?" The one and only Bretman Rock stood in the doorway of the bathroom, looking down at his friend. 

"Well yeah, I've been planning this trip for the past couple of weeks," Y/n looked up at the makeup influencer. Bretman and Y/n had been friends since forever, they had gone through so much together. 

"You're gonna miss James's party next Saturday," he moved aside, letting the other influencer in the room past by. 

"It's just one party," they had let out a short scoff while working on packaging their bathroom items properly. "James always throws parties, I'll go to the next one."

"Fine bitch," Bretman had tossed himself onto Y/n's bed, making their suitcase jump a little with everything else that had been laid out on Y/n's bed. "Why are you even going to London?"

"Well, I'm planning to meet up with a friend to make some videos together and just hang out," Y/n shrugged as they tucked away a few more items into their suitcase.

"Who?"

"He goes by ImAllexx on YouTube."

Bretman shook his head as he watched his friend, "I have absolutely never heard of them... ever."

"Yeah, his channel is smaller than either of ours."

"Lemme tell you now, if you're secretly doing some long-distance relationship with him and haven't bothered to tell me any tea yet, I will literally kill you," the raven-haired man laid on his back, beginning to fidget with the rings that sat on his fingers.

"I'm telling you now, Bret. Alex is only a friend, he's like a brother," they tsked at their friend as they zipped up their suitcase, finally finishing packing. 

"Fine, but if I find out you end up hooking up with some British boys over there and don't tell me... like I said, you'll be  dead bitch."

"Calm down, you know I can't keep secrets from you," Y/n flashed a cheeky grin at their friend while sliding the suitcase off of the bed. "I had two hours before I head to the airport, what do you wanna do?" For the past couple of weeks, Y/n had been counting down the days until they would leave for London. No doubt about it, they were excited. It wasn't often for them to make friends with other Influencers or people in general. So when they got the chance to make friends with a small commentary YouTuber that went by the name of ImAllexx, they had made sure to be as kind as possible.

At this point it was truly hard for Y/n to make friends, most people didn't like them based on the rumors that had spread about Y/n. Others that usually tried to be Y/n's friends were merely using them for money and fame. It became hard for Y/n to trust people and get close to them. So how did Alex pull off gaining Y/n's trust?

Y/n one day had been scrolling through YouTube, looking for something to watch. At this point, they had seen almost everything, vlogs, challenges, makeup, drama, and more. But one video had popped up into Y/n's recommended videos that had caught their eye.

'We Need to Stop Y/n L/n.'

It was normal for Y/n to see these types of videos, usually they'd come from Drama channels trying to cancel them. But this one had come from a YouTuber with the name, 'ImAllexx'. It was normal for Y/n to scroll when they came across these types of videos, but the video seemed a bit intriguing considering the thumbnail was only a simple picture of themself against a blue background.  So of course, Y/n clicked on the video only to hear; "Hello everyone, I'm Alex..."

Y/n found the video quite funny, when they'd watch videos made on them, the videos were typically quite harsh and mean. With Alex, he seemed like the type of person to be able to take a joke. His whole video was on an Instagram post Y/n had made a week or two before Alex had posted his video, he had just been taking the piss out of the photo as a joke. 

And after finishing that video and having a laugh, Y/n continued to watch more of Alex's videos, just to see if he was seemingly a decent guy. And somehow, they got hooked on Alex's videos. And by the end of the day, they had binged a good amount of his content. 

A few days after discovering Alex and his content, Y/n had decided to check out a few of his social medias. That's when Y/n had found out he was already following them on both Instagram and Twitter.

When Alex checked Instagram a while later, he was surprised to find that @y/nl/n was now following him. Y/n was almost four times(if not more) the popularity size of Alex, so how had they noticed him? He was a bit nervous at first, why would someone like Y/n follow him?

Instead of anxiety getting the best of Alex, he had decided to do something to try and figure out why of all people, @y/nl/n had decided to follow him. So he had been careful with sliding into Y/n's DMS, only to ask why they had followed him. ANd moments later, Y/n responded to him. 

'I've just been binge-watching your content lately and I thought that you were funny so I followed you. :)'

At first, Alex felt like it could possibly be a trap, but he continued to message back and forth with Y/n. After a while, Alex had realized that maybe Y/n wasn't as scandalous and dramatic as people made them out to be. As the days rolled on and they continued to talk, they had ended up developing a friendship.

After a couple of months of talking and coming closer and closer, Alex had asked if Y/n would want to fly out to the UK from LA to film a couple of collabs and hang out in person. Y/n had easily accepted his invitation, and just like that, A date was set for Y/n to fly out to London.

Taglist: @ivory-raptor @breakfast-cereal @snowcones404​ @golden-hoax​ 

[shotofire]

hello ! how are you ? i liked so much the oneshot modern levi, that was so cute>\\\<, i would like another oneshot modern levi, when their girlfriend prank him with the challenge "call your man the wrong name" ( i think his reaction will be hilarious 😂) thank you admin-chan we love ya 💜

Oh my gosh hi friend! Your requests have brightened my day so thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoyed it because it was lots of fun to write. Honestly I love you more anon :) <3

•MODERN!LEVI x F!READER

•Warnings: cursing

•Season: not set within the show

!Not Proof Read!

-

You weren’t big on trends and neither was Levi. Both of you didn’t have any kinds of social media, it kind of brought both of you down mentally to see how other people may live their lives. The two of you were happy the way you were and wouldn’t want to have it any other way.

Then there was your close friend, Angel, who just loved to send and show you every video she found entertaining. She was a big social media person and kept up with almost every celebrity there was. You never understand the hobby but it wasn’t your life so it’s not like it affected you. Plus some of the things she showed you actually made you laugh, and sometimes you’d want to branch out to social media.

A few days ago Angel came to visit you while Levi was off running errands. The two of you watched some movies and caught up, talking about all the somewhat interesting things happening in your adult lives. Although she was much more out there than you were.

Of course before you were with Levi you were crazy just like her, but now you were settled and had fun in your own way. Besides, you found getting drunk on your days off with him and laughing about random things incredibly fun. Angel was just more of a go out and party type of girl.

It didn’t take long for her to start showing you videos she’s rounded up for this visit. Some made you laugh, others she had to explain because you didn’t understand it. You watched one of the videos and had no idea what the point of it was.

“Why is he getting mad at her for calling him Mike?”

Angel laughed out loud at your question and you started to feel a bit out of the loop. This happened sometimes and it made you feel old, but you had to remind yourself that you weren’t past thirty yet.

“It’s cause it’s not his real name,” she says like you should’ve known, “and he’s like,” her voice deepens, “who is Mike bruh?”

That’s when you laugh. Her explaining it was a lot more funny than the actual video was.

“Imagine if you did that to Levi, he’d totally freak,”she squealed.

You pondered the thought. Wouldn’t it be cruel though? You could only imagine the way your heart would feel if he said someone else’s name, but you couldn’t help but want to try it out. It was like a harmless prank, right? He’d find out almost as soon as it happened that you were joking and he’d probably tickle you as a consequence.

“Yeah he probably would,” you laughed.

She left a few hours later and you were alone with your thoughts. You wondered if you should do it. The video you watched were teenagers, was it immature to do? Well of course it was, but you were dying to see his reaction.

You grabbed your laptop and searched up, “Calling your boyfriend by the wrong name prank.” Tons of things popped up and you watched video after video. Each one made you laugh with the different reactions people’s significant other had.

The sound of keys at your door make you shut the laptop quickly and set it back on the table. Levi open the door with a small smile on his face and grocerie bags in his hands.

“Hey princess,” he said as he shut the door behind him and set the bags on the kitchen table.

“Hello,” you sang and followed him.

He started to take one thing after another out and you helped. You each alternated who ran errands so the other person could have some alone time. You lived together so having some time to yourself was extremely important. The idea was what contributed to you two being together for so long.

“What did you do today?” He asked as he started placing things in the fridge.

“Angel came over and showed me a million videos, and I cleaned a bit,” you answered.

The most cleaning you did was sweep and wiping the countertops, but you wanted to sound more productive. You couldn’t tell him about the videos you watched by yourself for the past hour and a half.

“Was going out alright? I know the store can be crowed on weekdays,” you say feeling kind of bad.

You’d been contemplating pranking him all day while he ran around and did things for you. Hey you still wanted to go through with it. Were you being soulless? Definitely.

“No, it was fine, don’t worry about it,” he smiled.

Levi reached into one of the bags and pulled out your favorite candy and laughed as your eyes widened. You did a little happy jump and grabbed it from him. He always liked to surprise you with little thing, it was something else that kept the relationship going.

“Thank you so much,” you can’t believe you were about to say it, “Mike!”

Yes, you went with calling him Mike. It was just the first thing that popped in your head because of the first video Angel showed you. You somewhat panicked last second as well so you didn’t have time to be creative.

His eyebrows automatically pressed together as his mouth parted in a scowl. He shut the fridge door and stared at you for a second as if he wasn’t sure you had just said some random name he’d never heard before.

“Um,” he takes a step closer to you, “who the hell is Mike?”

It was so hard not to laugh. His stance was so serious and his voice had reached a lower octave. Oh and the face he made was absolutely priceless and you wished you could’ve taken a picture.

“What?” You asked completely confused, as if you hadn’t just said Mike.

His nose crinkled in annoyance and he shook his head. He didn’t say another word, only grabbed more groceries and put them away. He’d convinced himself that he misheard you. It’d been a long day and he’s been moving non stop, and it was just his mind playing tricks on him.

“I was thinking of making grilled cheese and tomato soup for dinner, does that sound good to you?” He asked with a smile.

You were confused now. Had he not heard what you said? Well of course he did, he asked you who Mike was. Maybe he thought he heard you wrong, that had to be it. You nodded at his question with a smile and helped put everything else away.

Later as he was making dinner and you two talked about random things you decided to try it again. Him not giving you a better reaction earlier kinda bummed you out. You felt even more immature to try it again but what was the worst that could happen?!

He wasn’t the jealous type whatsoever. There was no need to get worked up if he knew you were his, and had been for some time now, and he was yours. But deep down you knew if you pressed the right buttons he’d act different.

“The food smells so good Mike! I can’t wait to eat it!” You said in a cheery voice.

He pressed his palms against the counter top across from where you were sitting. His eyes are narrowed this time with his eyebrows already being knitted just like before. Teeth bite the inside of his cheek as he just looks at you with intimidating eyes.

You becomes antsy under his glare. You’d expected him to say something by now but he stayed silent. Was he observing you? Thats what it seemed like.

“Mike?” He finally questions.

In that moment you couldn’t hold it in anymore. He’d never reacted to anything like this before and it was priceless. His foot had even started to tap on the ground as the jealousy and anger started to bubble up inside of him.

Laughter pushed past your lips and his face had never looked so lost.

“What’s so funny?” He asked with an annoyed tone.

You wrapped your arms around your stomach as you laughed even harder. Levi leaned further onto the counter to become eye level with you, his features were basically asking you, ‘Are you crazy?’

“Oh my-“ you were cut off by more of your own laughter, “Your face, It was so funny! I can’t believe i actually got you!”

He started to understand, you were trying to mess with him and it totally worked. He started to pout and turn away from you, arms crossing. You giggled at his action and got up to wrap your arms around his middle.

“I was just joking,” you say while still letting giggles out, “I love you lots, not Mike. I promise.”

He ruffles your hair and hugs you back, finally letting himself laugh as well. You were going to have to give him lots of a lot for how much you’d just scared him.

“What even provoked you to do that?” he asked with his arms still around you.

“Angel showed me some video of-“ “Yep, she’s not allowed to come here anymore,” he says jokingly.

You looked at him with a frown and he only laughed more. He pecked your nose with his lips and you scrunched it up before kissing his chin.

“You owe me a better kiss than that!” He says with a shocked expression.

You scoff and press your lips to his, he could be such a softie. You may have to try some of the other things Angel had shown you, but Levi might just have a heart attack.

His fingers started to attack your sides and you squealed, this was your punishment.



[winetae]

wall to wall (m.) 02

— female reader x hoseok

— smut, porn star!au

— sex work, insecurity, jealousy, slut shaming/objectification, role played scenario that includes: d/s dynamics - dom!hoseok, anal sex, sex toys, face fucking, double penetration, erotic massages, humiliation, degradation, porn star type dirty talk, squirting, creampie, lots of cum (and oil!)

— 19.7k 

… 

Temporary popularity is the biggest threat to your career right now. Without a solid core fan base you’re doomed to be forgotten. If not now, then in a month or two, and if not then, surely by the end of the year. That’s how quickly the adult film industry cycles through their actors, especially when you’re a woman. 

Your agent comes forward with a proposition to help put you back on the map.

↳  or, my contribution to the lights, camera, action! collab : )

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

author’s note | part 2 is finally here ! ! ty to jordan who has encouraged me literally every step of the way and to ella for supplying a never ending amount of hoseok gifs and pics when i most needed it :’) i’m sorry again for cutting the chapter into two parts but seeing as this entire chunk only amounted to 1/3 of my outline for part two it’s safe to say i would have never finished this fic otherwise ;;

(!) if you are particularly sensitive to humiliation/ degradation then maybe u should skip the smut scene bc jdjffjkfkddkd cries in tears of heaux 

SCENE 03 - PULP FRICTION. TAKE 02. ROLL A.

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It’s hard to guess how a project will be perceived by the general public. Sometimes a xxx feature film everyone believed would do well sells less than expected, and with online pirating becoming such a rampant and common occurrence, it’s harder to measure the impact of your work. Views and numbers are no longer a reliable indicator of one’s popularity. You’re lucky that you’re signed under such a big talent agency because at least you’re guaranteed regular paychecks, regardless of how well you perform. But to survive in this industry you’re conscious that you need more than that.

According to Seokjin and his expert advice, fans are the ones who will keep an adult entertainer’s career afloat for longer than the average six months. It doesn’t matter how good-looking or well endowed an actor is; if fans aren’t interested and invested, there’s a slim chance that they’ll pay money from their own pockets to view your work. And in order to build such a strong and dedicated fan base, you need one of several things: regular content and an active social media account.

It’s a careful line to tread; not enough online interaction can make people lose interest, but so can overexposure.

You’re patiently waiting for what Seokjin baptizes “The Big Breakthrough” - the decisive project that will propel you into superstardom. None of your videos have ever garnered that type of traction, however, and you’ve been stuck repeating the same old recycled scenarios of plumbers/pizza delivery boys coming over to get the fuck of their life.

When your latest video is uploaded online, you do your best to steer clear from social media. As much as you want to see what people think of your performance, it’s too nerve-wracking to deal with on an empty stomach. You know that if you begin scrolling through the comments, you’ll spend all day glued to your phone, constantly refreshing the page to check for feedback.

And while you aren’t the type of person who lets negative opinions affect your morale, you are nonetheless worried that your time in the industry is about to run out. Lately, the thought lingers ominously in the corners of your mind.

In times like these, exercise is one of the best distractions, second to maybe sex.

Pia, the yoga instructor, walks you through several routines, bending your body this way and that, until your head feels pleasantly blank, devoid for once of any stress and self-doubt. The hour long hot yoga class puts your overthinking mind to rest. In that moment even the notion of time ceases to matter.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end.

The instructor turns off his meditation playlist while the room empties out, soft chattering replacing the chirping of birds and the sound of cascading water. Slowly, mind still fuzzy around the edges, you gather your belongings and head straight to the vending machine to get a much needed dose of caffeine.

As you dig around the contents of your purse for spare change, someone comes up from behind and taps your shoulder.

“Eep!” You catch your bag before it can slip from your grasp. “What—”

“Shit, sorry!”

When you spin around, hands clutched protectively over your chest to keep your heart rate steady, you don’t expect to come face to face with Hoseok, of all people.

He grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to give you a scare. I, um, recognized you from afar and thought I’d come say hi.”

Now that the initial shock has faded, you’re free to admire the sight in front of you without any distractions.

As handsome as Hoseok looks under the bright studio lights with his hair styled and make-up applied, there’s something undeniably appealing about the way he appears now - with his hair mussed up and sweatpants riding dangerously low on his hips. While you normally prefer someone who puts more effort into their appearance, there’s something attractive and unpretentious about his casual demeanor that intrigues you.

Heat surges to the apple of your cheeks when you realize that you’re being too blatant with your ogling. Your eyes settle on his face - a safe zone, one that won’t cause any misunderstandings. It’s a nice sight to look at. Hoseok’s face is pretty, the absence of powder and contour not taking away from his handsomeness in the least. His skin glows in a way that can only be achieved post-workout or after an intense orgasm.

This train of thought brings you down a slippery slope. All too soon, your mind supplies images of his long cock filling you up over and over and over again, his lips whispering praise and filth in the same breath. Your gaze flits to his mouth as you recall how red and swollen they’d been after kissing you senseless, how sticky and wet they’d felt against your own, the taste of your own succulence bleeding into your mouth as your breaths intermingled.

“You’re - yes.” You clear your throat, embarrassed by the way you’d quickly let your thoughts spiral out of control. “It’s fine, you just - caught me off guard. How’ve you been?”

Since you last dicked me down, goes unsaid.

“Just finished teaching a class a few minutes ago. I’ve got a 30 minute break before the next one starts.” He checks his watch. “Well, eleven minutes now.”

“You teach here?” You raise your brows, taken aback by his revelation.  

Not that it isn’t uncommon for adult entertainers to work two jobs - or more. You’ve run into a variety of cases since joining the industry. Some do porn on the side, as a hobby or as a way to make a quick buck. They quit the moment porn becomes tedious or when they’ve made enough money to pay back their loans. For you, however, it’s not like that. What started off as amateur cam work has now become your whole life. You can’t imagine doing anything else, even if it means going against your family members’ wishes. They could go suck on a rancid cock, for all you cared.

“Yep, sure do. I teach the morning Pilates class on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Funny how I’ve never run into you before, huh?”

He takes a few coins out of his left pocket and inserts them into the vending machine. “Here, get whatever you want.”

“You don’t—”

“My treat.”

You want to argue but Hoseok’s too beguiling for his own good. It doesn’t take much for you to be won over; Hoseok’s smile widens and you’re a goner.

It’s that easy.

You’re not sure if it’s because you’ve seen each other naked before or if the earlier yoga session has successfully weakened your defenses, but you’re not as wary as you usually would be around people you don’t know well. Distrust runs in your veins yet something about Hoseok has you lowering your guard.  

Based on your observations, there’s nothing calculated behind his gestures and mannerisms. The blinding grin, the jokes, the way people easily get pulled into his magnetic field - it’s not a facade or an act or a fluke. It’s just the way he is.

Hoseok leans against the vending machine and watches you press in the numbers for your order. From the corner of your eye, you see him studying your profile with a degree of intensity that makes you self-conscious. You swallow down the urge to fidget.

And it’s - silly. He’s seen you bare and at your most exposed, has kissed and touched the entirety of your body from head to toe, but this quiet moment feels strangely intimate, more so than when he’d slid his cock inside of you for the first time. Perhaps it’s due to the absence of cameras and prying eyes or the knowledge that right now you’re both real people, stripped of your porn star persona exterior.

Your eyes meet.

There’s nothing predatory or hungry about his gaze. The passion and the love he’d expressed so naturally during your filmed scenes are no longer detectable. Right now he’s Jung Hoseok, not a character with a role to play. This is all him - the dark circles, the relaxed smile, the slight slouch in his shoulders.

“About—” He clears his throat. “About the other day. The guy that was with you...”

You know without needing clarification who and what he’s talking about. You run your tongue across your row of teeth, wiping away the cheap coffee’s aftertaste, and nod for him to continue.

“He give you a hard time?” Hoseok’s eyes don’t stray from yours. He looks concerned. Serious. “Afterwards I - I regretted leaving so soon. I didn’t want to - I wasn’t sure. But, regardless, I should have made sure you were okay before leaving you alone with him.”

“Oh.”

Realization sinks in. Your eyes widen and you splutter, flustered. “No, no. It’s nothing like that. Jimin - he’s my boyfriend.”

It’s hard to appreciate the concern when all you feel is shocked that someone could misinterpret your relationship for a perverted staff member preying on an unsuspecting porn actress. Although it’s unfortunately common practice in the industry, it’s so far removed from what you share with Jimin that you’re at a loss for words.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Hoseok immediately rubs his face in embarrassment. “I thought - sorry. I’m a dumbass. Ignore me.”

“It’s -”  You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

An awkward silence ensues.

You occupy the void by sipping on the bitter vending machine coffee, your eyes glued to your toenails peeking out the top of your sandals. Any other time, you’d fret over the chipping nail polish and rush to schedule an appointment at the nail salon, but your thoughts are so jumbled up that you can barely string a coherent sentence together.

Jimin - he isn’t anything like what Hoseok’s implying. Implied. You know this. But the fact that someone could mistake him as such doesn’t sit right with you. You want to defend him but at the same time you don’t know what to say.

“I just,” he sighs, breaking the silence. “I’ve seen it happen before. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I guess I’m too paranoid for my own good. I hope I didn’t offend you too much. Or him.”

“No - I’m - I understand.” You give him a small smile to let him know you don’t harbor any ill feelings over the mistake. Hoseok seems so genuinely sorry about the entire situation that it’s impossible to hold it against him.

It’s possible, you think. To misinterpret your relationship with Jimin. The situation back then had been so tense - you remember that better than anyone. Given the context, Hoseok had every right to be mistrustful, especially when no one had bothered to set the record straight.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“There’s no harm done.” You hesitate before continuing, “I’m that way too, you know. I tend to think the worst of people when I probably shouldn’t. I thought - I was worried about you at first, too. When we met. Not because - it wasn’t anything against you personally. I’m just distrustful. But I’m glad - that it was you and not someone else.”

His posture relaxes. “Thank you. I’m glad that it was you, too. And that I was able to prove you wrong about me. With the shit you hear and see happening on set… I don’t blame you for being on your guard.”

“Yeah. Maybe we’ll - oh. I think someone’s calling you.”

Hoseok follows your line of sight to where a small group of his students are huddled behind the glass panel separating the Pilates classroom from the hallway leading down to the changing rooms. They’re all female and look around your age, maybe younger. The one who had been waving her arms wilts under the attention of her teacher, blush high on her cheeks, while her group of friends dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“Ah. That’s my cue.” Hoseok sighs in apology, the corner of his lips tugged downwards into a pout. “Sorry. Would’ve loved to get coffee and catch up but alas. Duty calls.”

“Next time.”

“Yeah, definitely. I’ll hold you up to that. And it’ll be proper coffee next time! Promise.”

“Okay, deal,” you agree easily. “I’ll buy.”

He looks somewhat offended. “What - no, that’s not what I meant.”

“It’s only fair.” You gesture at the half-empty plastic coffee cup still warm against your palm.

Hoseok opens his mouth to object but a short-haired woman pokes his head out the open door. “Yo, teach! Wasn’t class supposed to start five minutes ago?”

“I’m coming!” Hoseok shouts back, waving his student back inside. “Arrogant brat.”

“Go, go!” You urge, holding yourself from physically pushing him towards the classroom. His group of students look like they’re willing to jump you if you keep hogging his attention.

“We’ll Rock Paper Scissors it!” He says while jogging backwards. “Gotta run but see you around, yeah?”

Your lips pull into an amused smile as you watch him retreat back to his classroom. Through the glass panel, you can see the horde of girls flock around him, each vying for his attention in different ways. You’re especially impressed by how one almost succeeds in drowning Hoseok in her generous cleavage.

The sight of Hoseok dealing with thirsty college girls is so ridiculous you can’t help but giggle. You’re tempted to attend one of his classes just to watch them all trip over each other in an attempt to seduce him. Maybe you could even learn a thing or two.

With that thought in mind, you leave the gym center in high spirits, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to tackle on whatever hurdles the day decides to throw your way. You hum along to a top 40 hit they constantly play on the radio and decide to stop by your favorite restaurant to get take-out before heading home.

As you get into your car, you turn on your phone you’d disregarded all morning and are immediately notified of five missed calls and several unread text messages. More than half are - unsurprisingly - from your agent. You’re tempted to ignore him for an hour or two longer but you know how he gets once his patience runs thin.

“Don’t tell me you were out with Jimmy again,” Seokjin groans once you decide to call him back.

“I was with Hoseok, actually.”

“Hoseok?” Seokjin instantly perks up on the other side of the line. “As in, Jung Hoseok? J-Hope? Your baby daddy? That Hoseok?”

You contemplate ending the call.

Begrudgingly you concur, “Yes. That one.”

“Oooooh. Do tell,” he eggs, the smugness in his tone so thick that you can visualize it.

“It wasn’t - whatever scandalous thought you’re thinking. He works at the gym I go to. What are the chances, right?”

“What are the chances indeed.” Despite the lack of juicy gossip, he sounds pleased. “The news I rang you for earlier involves him.”

“How so?”

“Your video with Hoseok has been the number 1 trending video on Bang Gang’s home page since this morning!” He squeals, enthusiasm making the volume of his voice raise by a notch. “People are eating that romantic insemination stuff for breakfast and lunch. The views on this are insane! We haven’t gotten such a big reaction since the Agust D teacher-student role play and that was ages ago.”

“Wh- Are you serious?!”

Unable to contain the elation that surges through your chest, your face breaks out into a giant grin.

You’re admittedly the first to say that the number of views doesn’t equate to one’s talent or prowess in bed, but you also can’t completely disregard what this particular achievement implies...

While belonging to a reputable agency has its perks, it also entails continuous competition with big names. Your coworkers are also your competitors. Every month the most successful porn stars are rewarded and praised, whilst the ones who rake in the least amount of views are cast aside and are fated to fade into anonymity.

As much as you hate to acknowledge it, you’ve never had the support or interest it takes to contend for 1st place on any popularity polls or rankings of the sort. On Wednesdays, it so happens that the number one trending video spot is usually occupied by a popular femdom porn star who’s been in the game long enough to have secured a loyal fanbase.

Seokjin understands and empathizes with your excitement more than anybody.

“Yes, I’m serious! I think this is It, you know? Your Big Breakthrough, the moment we’ve been waiting for. You’ve been doing well so far but I think we’ll be able to go mainstream with this,” he chatters on, excitement building with every word. “Director Ryu said he’d personally call you up later to congratulate you, so don’t turn off your phone and ignore your calls, okay? I think he wants to ask you to film in his next movie but he didn’t discuss the details with me. Whatever it is - please say yes. I know the guy is a little pompous old fart but he really has an eye for this sort of thing. Casting you and Hoseok in the same film was the work of God. The chemistry between the two of you is unreal, no wonder people are jacking off to this at 10 am while they eat their cereal.”

You think it’s too early to rejoice in the success of your video considering the majority of the viewers are sleeping or busy at work - but when THE SPERMINATOR retains its number one ranking for the remainder of the week, you know your achievement deserves to be properly celebrated.

True to Seokjin’s word, Director Ryu does end up calling you. He wants to work with you and Hoseok again for a new film - and possibly more.

“A multi-film contract? You want to sign one with me?”

“How could I not? You’re both naturals and work well together. More importantly, the camera loves you. And people are on board with the pairing already! I think it’s a good idea to capitalize on their interest, don’t you think?”

It doesn’t take much more to convince you — not that you need any convincing at this point.

You refuse to be a flash-in-the-pan star. Although you admittedly had your reservations at first, the unexpected success of the last film is all Ryu needs to persuade you.

And - you like Hoseok. It goes without saying that there are far worse people to be partnered up with. Besides, it’s easier to work with co-stars you’ve starred in movies with previously for multiple reasons. Your acting is much more likely to come off as natural if you’re already acquainted with the dick that’s about to split you open - at least, that’s what you tell yourself.

When you mention the possibility of working again with Hoseok, your boyfriend doesn’t seem to share your enthusiasm.

“So it’s not a one time thing?” He’s not looking at you directly, his attention fixed instead on the freshly brewed coffee he nurses in his hands.  

“I mean—” You smile tentatively. “Director Ryu hasn’t said for how long he’ll keep hiring us for his projects. Maybe - maybe he’ll keep the format and hire different actors in the future? He - he didn’t really say. I don’t think he has much of an idea himself. He’s very...peculiar.”

You force out a laugh, but your attempt to lighten up the atmosphere falls flat.

“I see.” Jimin brings the coffee cup to his mouth to hide his grimace.

You don’t need to see his dejected expression to know that he isn’t pleased with this development.

“Do you - is there something wrong with Hoseok?” You hesitate, unsure of how he’ll reply.

Jimin’s never insisted you step down from a project before or expressed his dissatisfaction with any of your ‘artistic choices’, although you always imagined that someday, somewhere down the line, he might. Compared to your past dalliances, Jimin is understanding and empathetic. You don’t expect him to be perfect, however, especially when you yourself are far from that. Everyone must have their own personal limits, right? It’s unfair to ask Jimin to be accepting all the time.

It’s just that...the timing is bad.

You want to take his feelings into consideration, but you’re also aware that this might be your last opportunity to get your name out there once and for all. Your previous works have never tanked, so to speak, but they’d mostly gone by unnoticed. While you’ve managed to make ends meet in the past, such anonymity cannot go on for much longer if you want to remain in this line of work.

Your lipstick wears off as you bite your lower lip. Silence hangs heavy in the air.

Jimin sets down his cup of coffee and averts his gaze.

“No. No, there’s nothing wrong with him.”

You breathe out in relief, only now realizing you’d been holding in your breath as you awaited his answer.  

“It’s a bit difficult,” he admits after a pause. “Watching both of you together... Not because it’s bad! You did really good last time. You always do, but - saying ‘I love you’, that kind of stuff, it’s - I don’t know. It’s not your fault, though! I just need some time to adjust. Next time shouldn’t be as strange - since I know what to expect...”

You blink slowly as your brain registers the confession. His words echo in your ears and a strong feeling of déjà-vu washes over you. He’d said something along those lines before, hadn’t he?

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal before continuing, “As for Hoseok... He seems like a good person, I guess. I don’t think he’s the problem. Whether it’s him or another guy...” He sighs. “I think I just need to work this out on my own. It’s not like I can ask you to turn down a job offer because of me, right?”

Guilt makes your stomach turn. He’s right. As much as you want to respect his feelings, you can’t bring yourself to turn down the job for his sake. Does that make you selfish? Does he think less of you for it?

“Alright...” When you reach out to take his hand in yours, his skin is surprisingly cold to the touch. “You’ll tell me if it ever bothers you, okay? Filming this - or anything else. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable with what I do...”

You’re not sure what you’ll do if that moment ever comes to pass. Work is your number one priority in life. Many of your relationships haven’t worked out because of that very reason but your past lovers’ dissatisfaction hadn’t been enough to change your mindset. After all, work is what helps put money on the table, not love. You shake your head, as if the action will help you get rid of your stressful thoughts.  

Jimin nods as he interlaces his fingers with yours. On normal days, holding hands together puts your mind at rest. You love the way his hand fits in yours, the different skin tones blending into one.

Right now, his pale hand feels unnaturally cold against your own. It feels like winter itself is embracing you and you repress a shiver.

Maybe as his girlfriend it’s not the right choice to make, but — you can’t falter now. It physically pains you to admit it but Seokjin’s worrying isn’t unfounded. Your career is stagnant, your projects predictable and boring. You’re not bad at your job, but you don’t stand out amidst the sea of pretty girls hoping to make a name for themselves.

There’s no guarantee that Director Ryu’s new project will be as successful as the first. You’re no stranger to false hopes; there’s a chance that Seokjin’s wishful thinking might never amount to anything. Even so, you want to give it a shot. Not trying feels too much like giving up and giving up is not an option you’re willing to consider, not when you’ve already put so much on the line.

You’re not a quitter. Seokjin had warned you from day one that it wouldn’t be easy and you’d taken his lessons and warnings to heart. You’d become an adult entertainer fully aware of the trials and tribulations you’d have to face and had been prepared to make the necessary sacrifices in order to achieve your goals.

But are the risks truly worth it? Looking at Jimin’s dejected expression, you’re not so sure anymore.

.

.

.

They’ve really gone all out this time, you muse as you cast a cursory glance at your surroundings. A small, electric waterfall fountain sits in the far right corner and crimson colored scented candles are dispersed all around the elaborate massage parlor set-up, dousing the room in a cosy, amber glow. It’s a surprising sight because porn sets are famous for never focusing on the details. Viewers are here for the sex, not the generic backdrop of a rented room or hotel suite.

Director Ryu vehemently protests.

“That’s precisely what sets apart my works from your average pornography film. I want the viewer to be completely immersed in the movie they’re watching. Porn is too constricting and underwhelming a word. What I’m creating is a feast for the eyes, one that leaves a lasting impression after consumption.”

“Ah... Yes.” You try (and fail) to sound impressed.  

“People want to believe the sex is real, even if it’s just for an hour.” He sighs deeply, sounding pained, like explicating such a simple fact isn’t worthy of his time. “They need the escape and it’s our job to make it happen. A few extra candles might not make a colossal difference at first glance. But that’s where you’re wrong! It’s never been about the candles. It’s about the ambiance! The visual experience!”

It’s a pity the new budget doesn’t extend to your wardrobe, you remark internally as your gaze drops to observe the stylists’ pick of the day.

For the upcoming scene, you’ve been instructed to squeeze into a tight, baby pink shirt that stretches obscenely over your bust like something straight out of a frat boy’s wet dream. Inwardly, you congratulate yourself for hitting the gym religiously because your clothes—or lack thereof—put everything on display. The cotton material of your shirt is so thin, you’re surprised the stitches haven’t popped out, while the denim bottoms you sport are so tiny that you could hardly qualify them as shorts. Although—you suppose that there isn’t any use debating over semantics. It’s not as if they’ll stay on long enough for it to matter.

The scenario that you’ll be acting out today is pretty straight-forward. You stop by the parlor to cash in a voucher gifted by a generous and thoughtful friend. Hoseok, who plays the role of an erotic masseuse, gives you a deep tissue body massage worthy of a five star review on Yelp.

Director Ryu is extremely proud of the pitch. His spectacles glint as he pushes them up the bridge of his long nose.

“We’re gonna call it My Bare Lady. Haha, get it?” He gloats. “It’ll be different from our last shoot - the both of you aren’t supposed to be acquainted with each other at all. In fact, there won’t be any romance. We’re aiming for something new because as artists, it’s our duty to reinvent ourselves every day. Complacency is the enemy of creativity.”

At the mention of Hoseok, your gaze flits over in his direction.

His brown hair, two shades lighter than the last time you’d run into him, is swept to the side, giving him a professional and tidy appearance. He’s swapped his workout attire for beige scrub pants and a matching shirt. The color compliments the glow of his tan and the cut of the uniform is flattering to his figure. Diretor Ryu’s speech continues despite your wavering focus.

“—visual stimulation. That’s why one shouldn’t underestimate the proper use of props. A believable setting sets the tone for the rest of the scene. If you don’t believe the role you’ve been given, then why should the audience?”

“Mhm,” you nod here and there but you’ve long stopped paying attention to his one-sided speech.

Your eyes linger on Hoseok’s arms and the dimples that appear every time he laughs. You’re not the only one who stares. A small group of admirers flock to him like bees swarming around a rare and exotic flower.

You’d noticed it before but today confirms it; Hoseok’s presence is riveting. It’s not the first time today your gaze has strayed his way. More than once, you find your eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame only to quickly avert your gaze whenever your eyes meet. Each time, the right side of his mouth quirks into a half-smile, the beginning of a question forming on his lips.

It’s embarrassing to be caught red-handed gawking but, in your defense, you aren’t the only one who ogles him—and many of them are far less discreet than you try to be, some gazes curious, others downright lecherous.

It bothers you. What exactly do you and everyone else find so fascinating about his character? He’s good-looking, sure—but you’re no stranger to handsome and pretty co-stars with nicely shaped dicks. You can’t put a finger on what sets him apart from the rest.

The gaffer comes over and momentarily interrupts the flow of Director Ryu’s monologue with a personal inquiry. Thank God. You use the opportunity to slip away, grateful that someone has put an end to your misery. As thankful as you are to the director for the career opportunity, you could do without his long-winded speeches that never seem to end.  

“Hey, Hoseok.”

His smile widens, the corners dimpling the moment he spots you. “Hey! It’s been a while. Who would’ve thought we’d get to work again so soon, huh?”

“I didn’t think our last movie would do so well, honestly.”

Without its success, who knows what kind of movie you’d be participating in right now? Another re-hashed version of ‘BABYSITTER GETS CREAMED’ type scenario, most probably.

“I guess that’s a testament to your acting skills, right?”

You smile back, sheepish but nevertheless pleased. It always feels nice to be complimented, especially on days like today when you’re feeling less confident than usual.

“You changed up your hair.”

“Yeah! I thought I needed a change.” He threads his fingers through his locks self-consciously. “It looks fine, right?”

“It does!” you agree with an enthusiastic nod.

Jimin, who had insisted to be present on set today, hovers on the edge of your periphery. In the back of your mind you know he means well—that his presence is meant to be a source of support and security. On a typical day, you’re relieved that someone you trust is close by in case the situation escalates. While you’ve never had any horrific experiences, there have been the occasional uncomfortable encounters behind the scenes. Thankfully, Seokjin or Jimin have always stepped in before whichever entitled asshat could get too handsy.

But for the first time, his presence doesn’t comfort you the way it usually does.

Your smile becomes stiff.

The last thing you want is for Jimin to misunderstand the situation... Despite his claims of not having any problems with you shooting again with Hoseok, you can’t forget the stony expression on your boyfriend’s face as he had stared your co-star down, his grip around your waist strong and possessive.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok inquires, noticing your change in attitude. Worry creases his brow. He takes a step forward as if to check up on you.

“I’m okay!” You wave your hands around in the air, if only to maintain the distance separating your figures.

Despite your energetic reassurances, Hoseok looks unconvinced. He tilts his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in concern.

You wrack your head for an acceptable excuse. “Maybe I have pre-performance jitters? It’s nothing serious, though!”

It’s not too far from the truth, either. You feel more nervous than usual... Maybe because you’re aware that today’s shoot will most likely make or break your career. If the results prove to be disappointing, you don’t want to imagine what that means for your future.

You shake your head, refusing to accept any talks of early retirement.

But what other choice will you have, your inner voice argues. If no one is interested in viewing your works, no production company will want to book you for their movies. Even if you’re able to shoot half a dozen films after this failed attempt, the interest and support from viewers and higher-ups will soon dry up.

Hoseok’s features soften.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well yet, but if my opinion means anything... I think you’re really amazing.” His deep brown eyes reflect sincerity. “I haven’t had this much fun performing with anyone before and it’s not just ‘cos you’re fucking hot.” He laughs to cover up his embarrassment. “Maybe it’s a bit of a reach to compare the two, but porn is a bit like dancing in a way. There’s a choreography to follow, a certain rhythm and mood you have to get into. But the most important part is the chemistry and trust between you and your partner. And you - when I perform with you, it doesn’t feel like I’m acting at all. Not many people have that ability. For what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty special.”

“T-thanks,” you stutter in reply, taken aback by his candor. “I appreciate that.”

You’re not the only one caught off-guard by Hoseok’s frankness. He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles to fill up the momentary lapse in conversation. A bashful smile inches its way across his face, but surprisingly he doesn’t break eye contact.

You quickly change subjects, unwilling to acknowledge the slight fluttering in your stomach.

“...So, you dance?”

It’s not the smoothest transition, but Hoseok’s face instantly lights up.

“Yes! I mean,” he pauses and clears his throat. “Not professionally. I minored in dance. But it’s something I definitely enjoy, you know, to blow off some steam. Ah, wait a sec—”

He takes out his phone to show you short video clips of his dancing. He pulls up his instagram account and scrolls through an eclectic mix of mirror selfies showcasing his bold fashion choices, dog pics, and videos of him working out and dancing.

“Here’s a recent one.”

You don’t know much about dance but in spite of your little knowledge in the subject, your eyes stay transfixed on the screen in front of you. “Whoa...”

The way he moves is enthralling, for lack of a better word. You know from experience that his body is flexible and agile, lithe and strong, but seeing it in action like this leaves you speechless, momentarily robbed of coherency. You can’t even describe it. His execution of the choreography is sharp and powerful, yet his body doesn’t look rigid. On the contrary, his movements are surprisingly fluid and he never misses a single beat. You watch in astonishment as he pushes himself off of his knees after bending backwards in one fell swoop.

“Eh? Is it even possible to move your body that way?” Surely if you try to mimic him, you’ll look like a flailing chicken. “That can’t be safe...”

Hoseok laughs at your shocked expression. “It takes a lot of practice. You should come to a workshop one day! My friend teaches beginners. He’d be glad if you could join. The more the merrier, right? You don’t need to know any of the basics... And if you’re worried about people poking fun—don’t. Dancing isn’t a competition or anything.”

“I dunno.” You hand him back his phone after watching the video loop back for a second time. “I think my back would crack if I attempted any of that.”

“I think you would do really well! You’re pretty flexible and I don’t think you need to worry about stamina. Your core muscles are also really well developed. Based on what I’ve seen, you have a good sense of balance and beat awareness, so even if you’ve never danced before, you have the body and disposition for it.”

“Well... I guess I—”

“Hey.” Jimin interrupts, plump lips curved into a polite smile. You try not to let your surprise show; you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. He kisses your cheek and slides his hand into yours, clasping it between his own. “Sorry to interrupt, doll. Seokjin wanted to have a word with you before the shoot.”

“Oh.” You blink, your eyes darting back and forth between Jimin and Hoseok. “Um...if you don’t mind?”

“That’s straight,” Hoseok steps back, shoving his hands down his pockets. He shoots you a tentative smile. “I’ll catch you later.”

You feel bad for ditching him mid-conversation after he’d been so nice, but you know how annoying your agent can get when ignored for too long.

Jimin’s fingers tighten around yours. When you look up, he’s pouting, his lips pursed and brows drawn together.

“Is something on your mind?”

You can see the hesitation flicker across his face. When he finally meets your gaze, his expression is troubled.

“It’s nothing...” He looks away again and the grip he has on your hand loosens.

“Hm.” You swallow down any further inquiries, worried you’ll upset him.

“What was that about, anyway?” he asks casually, trying his best to look uninterested. “You and Hoseok look like you’re getting along well.”

“Yeah.” The memory of your previous conversation makes you smile softly despite yourself. “He’s a nice guy.”

“I can imagine.” Jimin mutters under his breath. Before you have time to question him again, he straightens his spine, his features twisting into an apologetic expression. “Look, I gotta help setting up the cameras. I’ll see you after the shoot.”

“Ah... Alright.” You fight to keep the disappointment of your face. Since you only have a few minutes before filming begins, you’d been hoping to spend it with him.

As if reading your mind, Jimin leans in and kisses you, his plush lips soft and familiar against your own. You expect him to pull away after a few seconds but his left hand slots itself behind your neck, bringing you in closer to deepen the kiss. His other hand angles your head to the side, giving him more access, and he doesn’t waste any time before brushing his tongue against the roof of your mouth.

You respond to the kiss as if on auto-pilot, but your thoughts are all jumbled in your head. Jimin’s always been a good kisser but he’s rarely kissed you quite like this. His style is more of a slow-burn, the kind that slowly creeps up on you and leaves your whole body numb with pleasure. Every press of his lips feels like a silent prayer of worship and each swipe of his tongue tastes like adoration. You like that he takes his time, like you’re not just a quick meal to curb his hunger but a delicacy worthy of being savored.

Right now, this kiss feels unfamiliar. Urgency replaces devotion. Perhaps it’s because he’s short on time, but his touch is hurried and sloppy. He bites your lower lip, hard enough for it to hurt, and licks into your mouth when you mewl out a gasp of surprise.

“I wish I could just mark you up,” he pants against your parted lips. They feel tender when you smack them closed.

“The makeup artist is going to strangle you for messing up my lipstick.” You fake a scowl. You’re not half-wrong, though. Once she sees how swollen they’ve become she’s bound to take out her frustration on the closest available victim. “If you marked me for real, she’d probably kill you. Don’t tempt her.”

He chuckles and pulls back, letting his hands fall to his side. His eyes dart to somewhere behind your shoulder, his smile curving into a smirk.

“You’re right.” He sighs, looking back at you. “But that’s easier said than done. You’re hard to resist... Anyone would agree.”

Something dark clouds his eyes but whatever it is, it’s gone in the next blink.

You laugh, pleased nonetheless by his flattery. “Didn’t you say you had to help set up? You’re going to end up in trouble because of me…”

Jimin snorts but backs up all the same. “Don’t worry about me. Besides, you’re worth getting in trouble for.”

Someone behind you gags dramatically. “Absolutely sickening.”

When you whirl around, your agent shoots you a disgusted glare. “I was wondering what was taking you so long but I should’ve known you two were out here fabricating babies. Have you no shame?”

“I’ll see you after the shoot!” Jimin says quickly, eager to get away from Seokjin and his sharp tongue.

“See you.” You smile sweetly, ignoring Seokjin’s grumbling. You feel a pang of jealousy as you watch him scurry out of sight. If only you could avoid Seokjin’s pre-performance motivational speeches...

“Anyways.” Seokjin looks noticeably less irritated once Jimin is gone. “I wanted to check up on you before filming could begin. How’s your ass doing?”

You don’t bother hiding your grimace. “Squeaky clean and stretched.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He sounds proud. “Don’t make that face. It’s your first anal scene after all. Doesn’t hurt to be prepared, right?”

By ‘be prepared’ he means following a strict diet prior to shooting, waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a colonic, stretching out your asshole for a good thirty minutes using a fuck ton of lube, and constantly rehydrating yourself throughout the day to the point where you’d gone to the bathroom more times than you could count on one hand.

You’re never this thorough with prep before having anal but apparently that’s the difference between fucking in the privacy of your own home and on camera.

“There’s a reason why cleanliness is one of the fundamentals of anal sex, especially when shooting porn. It’s a pain...in the ass...but this way, no one sees something they’d rather not see,” had explained Seokjin after giving you a non-exhaustive list of detailed steps to follow. You suppose there’s logic behind his reasoning. Due to the magic of 4k-quality videos, viewers can now easily see everything, down to the sweat droplets dotting your hairline and any makeup-covered skin imperfections, so you don’t want to imagine what they’ll notice once the camera zooms in on your back entrance.

“Eventually you’ll get used to squeezing water out your bum on the regular.” He shrugs. “You’ll also start to avoid certain foods on your own. The dietary restrictions aren’t that bad, all things considered, and your body will thank you for eating more spinach than you’re used to. Greens are good for your health even if they taste like yuck.”

Athough his suggestions are well-intended, you don’t need another 25 minute speech on all the know-hows of filming anal sex. The first time had been more than enough.

“Thanks for the advice!” you interject right as he opens his mouth to continue his counseling. “That reminds me I need to get this butt plug out of my ass before we start shooting.”

Seokjin sighs. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He doesn’t need to know that you’ve taken out the butt plug in the bathroom half an hour ago. Any excuse will do, as long as you’re spared from listening to his passionate discourse on the benefits of high-fibre food diets and his long list of enema tutorial video recommendations.

The fussing, you think, is unnecessary. You’re not worried about the upcoming sex scene, even if it will be the first time someone other than your partner sees you in that position. No, what troubles you is the possibility of the audience growing tired of seeing you onscreen now that they’ve witnessed you take it up the ass. Boredom is the reason why so many of your peers are forced to end their careers prematurely, after all. Why else is Seokjin so adamant about you pacing yourself and not filming everything there is to film right off the bat? You’ve always held off shooting anal, double penetration and the likes, for that very reason. Although you have no qualms with the act itself, you’re worried that you’re now one step closer to retirement.

The thoughts sit on your shoulders like a heavy weight as you get ready for the scene to come. You listen to Director Ryu’s instructions as he describes the scenario’s key points, your character’s motives, and what sex positions you should include before the scene comes to an end.

“The rest is up to you,” he says with an encouraging nod. “I want the words to come from the heart! Let yourself be a vessel, a way for your character to express their innermost desires.”

“Leave it up to us.” Hoseok’s smile radiates confidence.

“I like your enthusiasm!” Director Ryu approves, clapping his hands together. He misses the way his two leading actors exchange exasperated glances over his shoulder. “Good, then we’re all set? Remember where the cameras are positioned, please, or else we’ll have to reshoot to get the right angles.”

“Got it.” You nod, eager to get this show on the road. Between him and Seokjin, your ears are about to fall off from the incessant chattering. Even the camera men are starting to grow restless.

Speaking of... You meet Jimin’s gaze, the sides of your mouth upturning the moment you spot him. As usual, he looks slightly out of place standing between the other crew members, his white, ironed dress shirt neatly tucked into his black pants providing a stark contrast with his co-workers’ unkempt appearance.  

Jimin mirrors your smile and your shoulders immediately relax. A lot of people may not understand why you’d allow your boyfriend on set while you’re fucking someone else, but his presence brings you a strange sense of comfort that’s hard to put into words.

The sound of your name being called pulls you from your line of thought.

“Can you scoot over to the right? Just a little.” Director Ryu orders while glancing at the monitor. “Yes, that’s much better. And can we fix the lighting, please? My shadow’s getting picked up by the camera.”

Now that the start of the shoot is right around the corner, your stomach cramps up with a nervous kind of anticipation. Your tongue feels like cotton in your mouth and even when you swallow, the unpleasant feeling doesn’t go away.

You clasp your hands together in your lap to hide the minute trembling of your fingers. It’s strange, you think. Ever since you started working with Hoseok, you always get too wrapped in your thoughts. Not necessarily in a bad way, at least not all the time, but --

“You all good?” Hoseok asks, low enough that the mics won’t be able to pick up his questioning. “Do you need some water?”

You shake your head. “I’m good, thanks.”

He hesitates but doesn’t push. “I just wanna run this with you one last time. I know we already signed the consent forms but I’d feel better talking with you about the scene directly.”

“Oh.” You remember he’d done something similar last time, too. “Sure.”

“Anal aside, are you okay with the use of degrading names during the scene?” His eyes never leave yours, like he wants you to know how serious he is.

“I’m okay with you calling me a whore.” Your shoulders loosen up. It’s easy to relax when you’re on familiar territory. Working in this industry requires complete transparency. There’s no shame in discussing your kinks just like there’s no shame in admitting the acts you’re not comfortable performing. “As long as I can call you a slut.”

“That’s fine.” His lips quirk up, but not in a mocking or dismissing way. “I don’t really have any hard limits myself, except for what you’ve already seen on paper. Degradation is fine with me. Call my dick tiny all you want, I won’t take it to heart.”

You laugh, forgetting to keep the volume down. “I’ll keep that in mind…”

“So degradation is fine. Is humiliation okay as well? Situational and verbal?”

“I like that.” You bite your lower lip as you remember your encounter with Min Yoongi a month or so ago, how turned on you’d been from his words alone. “I’ll admit I haven’t dabbled too much in BDSM on the porn scene, but I enjoyed what I’ve done so far.”

“That’s good to know.” He raises his brow. “Ever since we received the pitch for today’s movie I’ve been trying to think of ways to make it, uh, more interesting. So to speak. But I didn’t want to take any initiatives if they made you uncomfortable. Oh, also I meant to ask if there was anything you wanted to include in the scene aside from anal sex.”

Somehow you’re not surprised he’s put thought into this. Last time you’d worked with him, he’d been overflowing with suggestions as well. Maybe because the previous filming formats aren’t as flexible, but it’s not often you meet someone so willing to exchange ideas before filming.

The change is more than welcome. For the first time, it feels like your opinion actually matters. The two of you quietly go back and forth discussing different possibilities while the filming crew finish setting up the set the way Director Ryu wants it.

“Alright,” Ryu calls, settling into the director’s chair. Somewhere in the background, the gaffer wipes off his brow. “Everyone ready to rooooollll?”

Hoseok takes a few steps back and reaches for a nearby clipboard.

Miraculously, you note distantly, the swarming of butterflies in your stomach is now gone. Your palms are no longer clammy and cold with perspiration. When you swallow, there’s no lump of nerves stuck in your throat.

Hoseok sends an encouraging smile your way right before Director Ryu yells “ACTION!” and he schools his features into a more polite, appropriate expression.

He doesn’t speak up right away, just walks over to where you’re sitting on the massage table in a leisurely manner. You open your mouth to fill the silence but he beats you to it.

“Welcome to Happy Ending Clinic, where we ensure every client leaves feeling 100% satisfied. We guarantee high quality services personally adapted to suit the needs of our every client,” Hoseok says in lieu of greeting, the lilt in his voice smooth and practiced, like he’s used to repeating this introduction multiple times throughout the day. “My name is J-Hope and today you will be in my care.”

“Nice to meet you.” You’re careful to keep your back ramrod straight, hoping the stiffness in your body will be picked up by the cameras.

The role you’re playing today is more reserved and awkward than the usual unabashed and bold characters you’re used to acting. And while it’s not your first time pretending to be coy and shy for the cameras, such behavior isn’t second nature.

His smile, whilst professional, radiates warmth. You suppose it’s meant to be reassuring.

“I will do my best to make this session unforgettable.”  

His gaze sweeps over the clipboard sitting in his hands.

“Hmmm... ______, is it?” When you nod in affirmation, he continues. “It says here it’s your first time visiting our establishment.”

You’re surprised at how naturally he adapts to the role he’s been assigned to. The words that roll off his tongue sound like his own.

“Yes... Honestly, I - I didn’t think it was necessary, but my friend insisted - I mean, she recommended I visit this place...said it would do me some good.”

You wring your hands in your lap. You’re lucky the character you’re playing today is supposed to be a little shy and rigid. Otherwise, you’re not sure Director Ryu would have let your awkward stuttering slide.

“That’s not a problem.” The lines of Hoseok’s mouth bend into a reassuring smile. “Let’s see... It says you’ve booked an hour-long session?”

“Yep.”

“Then with your permission, I’d like to take fifteen supplementary minutes to find out which massage course is best suited for a novice like you. It’ll be free of charge, of course.”

You nod, eager to get the show on the road. Given your character’s disposition, maybe you should have pretended to mull over the proposal for a few seconds more - if only for appearance’s sake - but you’re tired of all this talking. Impatience gets the best of you.

“Oh! Yes, that sounds fine.”

He pulls out several colorful mock pamphlets and hands them over for you to peruse their contents. You try not to let your astonishment show.

It’s the first time you’ve seen a prop team this devoted to their task. Although the insides of the brochures remain blank, you still can’t believe someone actually took the time to print out fake brochure covers. You appreciate the effort, even if the covers do look like they’ve been made by someone who’s looking to major in ‘graphic design is my passion.’

You hold one up at random and pretend to read through it, hoping that whoever will watch the movie later will ignore the ugly block font that spells out ‘NAUGHTY MASSAGE : FOUR HANDS EDITION.’

“Inside, you’ll find a detailed explanation on the various vegan, cruelty-free products we use. All of our treatments are oil-based and you can choose the scent of your choice. If your skin is particularly sensitive, we have essential oil-infused body butters that work just as effectively and leave the skin silky smooth to the touch. Depending on your skin type, you might be interested in testing—” He takes out several jars all while explaining the different health benefits of ylang ylang essential oil.

Once again, you’re caught off guard by his convincing performance. Even though you’ve been given several pointers by the director before filming, Hoseok is the one who ultimately calls the shots. Inwardly, you wonder how he manages to come up with such original lines on the spot. Despite not being a professional actor, Hoseok’s intuitive choices are beyond your expectations.  

The thoroughness of his explanation makes your head spin. Cruelty-free products? Body butter? You have no way of knowing whether his statements are fabricated for the sake of the vague storyline - but you suppose the credibility of his words doesn’t really matter in the end. It’s the small details he sprinkles here and there that help you immerse in the scene.  

His proficiency in acting makes all of your worries melt away. It’s hard to believe he’s only a rookie, just starting off his career, and not an acting veteran with dozens of movies under his belt.

Not wanting to be entirely overshadowed by your co-star, you furrow your eyebrows, determination set into your features.

“I’m sorry... I’ve never done this before. They all look the same to me.”

“Ah.” Still, Hoseok’s smile stays amiable and professional. “Well, let’s go about it this way - why do you think your friend insisted you visit our establishment?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze dropping to the floor in order to avert his probing stare. “I - um. I haven’t had - I mean, I guess I’ve been stressed lately. More pent up than usual. I’ve tried exercising and meditating and mas- uh...well everything, honestly. But nothing seems to work. I’m snappy all the time and...frustrated.”

Today, the character you’re playing is a bit more bashful, too timid to voice her desires into spoken words. “It’s all about the tension! The build-up!” Director’s Ryu’s voice echoes in your mind as a reminder.

“I see,” Hoseok nods, taking your comments into consideration. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate the quality of your sleep?”

“A five...” you say after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t wake up during the night, but it takes me a long time to fall asleep.”

“Do you feel any pain anywhere?”

“Pain? No, not really.” You roll your shoulders back, conscious of the way your perky chest juts out, nipples prominent through the cheap fabric. “My neck does feel sore from time to time but I think it’s because I work an office job. They say staying hunched over in front of a computer all day is bad for your health.”

His gaze roams your figure, quietly assessing. “It is.”

“May I?” he asks, taking a tentative step closer. “I think I’ll need to gauge your level of sensitivity for myself. We’ll adjust the intensity of the massage depending on how much pressure you can withstand and how your body reacts to different types of stimuli.”

Your brows lift. “Oh. Sure, why not.”

“Move back a little. A bit more.” You obey his instructions without second thoughts. “That’s perfect, thank you.”

Your legs dangle awkwardly over the edge of the massage table. You can probably close them if you wanted to, but you don’t miss an opportunity to expose yourself in front of the cameras. The shorts you’re wearing are more like tiny scraps of denim put together with the help of a few stitches. You’re certain that if someone were to really look, they’d see the outline of your pussy lips.

Hoseok walks around the table to stand behind you. The sensation is somewhat familiar—right away, you’re reminded of the first encounter with Hoseok, the one where he’d wrapped his arms around you and whispered words of love into your ear. You close your eyes and let the images flash by in quick succession. The memories all come rushing in at once—an artist’s lips painting your skin like a brush would canvas, a potter’s agile fingers molding your body from clay, a lyricist’s tongue composing sonnets into your weeping, open cunt. Your body remembers it all.

When he finally touches you, his hands radiate warmth the shadow of his memory does not.

A shudder runs down your spine.

Oblivious to your inner thoughts, Hoseok carefully gathers your hair into a ponytail and moves it out of the way. His mobility no longer restricted, he lets his slender digits travel down the slope of your neck, the pads of his fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders.

“You’re unusually tense here.” Concern colors his voice as he increases the pressure.

Suddenly the discomfort you’re to convey to the audience is no longer feigned. “Ow!”

The wince that mars your face is authentic. You try to wiggle out of his grasp to relieve the sharp ache in your shoulders. Hoseok’s grip is strong, however, and he keeps you exactly where he thinks you ought to be.

“Hmm...”

He massages your arms one by one. The circular movements he traces across your skin are a lot more gentle this time around, and you allow yourself to slowly relax under his touch. He manipulates your body like one would a rag doll, pulling your arm over your head.

“Can you reach behind, towards your neck? How about a little lower? You should feel a stretch here.” He taps at an arm muscle.

“Yeah… I can definitely feel it.”

You suspect that Hoseok’s stunt as a Pilates instructor is what’s helping him sound so experienced and natural.

“Good.” He lets out a pleased hum. “Hold the position for as long as you can.”

His hands reach around your body to squeeze your perky breasts. You gasp at the rather rough way he handles your tits. Perhaps it’s because you’ve been told to forgo a bra, but you’re much more conscious of his every action - from the way his fingers splay out, cupping the fullness of your breasts between them, to the way he kneads your mounds with his entire palm as he gropes you from behind.

“How often do you masturbate?” he asks in an almost offhand manner, his tone is more clinical than casual. The question is crude and direct enough to distract you from the way his fingers encircle your nipples through the cotton fabric of your shirt.

You recall Ryu’s earlier directions: unlike your first movie together, this tryst is not romantic in nature. The scenario that you’re acting out this time doesn’t involve sweet kisses and whispered declarations of love. Feelings aren’t on the table.

You pretend like the bitter taste you swallow down isn’t disappointment.

“Um.” You struggle to remember the initial question. Luckily, your mental buffering comes off as bashful and true to the character you’re playing. “I, uh, I guess masturbate often?”

“But it isn’t enough, is it?”

His question comes off as slightly patronizing. Before you can formulate a suitable answer, Hoseok’s fingers tweak your hardened nipples and your back bows under the pressure. You oscillate between the desire to thrust your chest out in offering, and the pressing need to flee the sharp sensations his skilled hands provoke.

“I - um!” You squirm helplessly as he continues playing with your breasts. “It isn’t!”

“Just as I thought.” He pinches both of your nipples and pulls at them until you cry out in half-pain, half-pleasure. The thin material of your shirt doesn’t dull the ache; if anything, the cotton scratches your skin, rubbing the nubs raw.

Despite your very visible discomfort, Hoseok doesn’t let go. You can only sit there obediently while he has his fun, knowing that if you wiggle too much it’ll only worsen the pain.

“Ah!”

Only then does he release them. You fight against the urge to cover your sore nipples. Your flimsy shirt hadn’t provided any protection against his rough onslaught, none at all.

“You’re quite sensitive,” he observes, giving your breasts one last squeeze.

Finished with his appraisal, he steps away and picks his clipboard up. He makes his way around the massage table, coming back into view, and scribbles something onto the paper with a ballpoint pen. He looks so absorbed in his work that you almost fall for the act.  

You worry your bottom lip, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. Without a bra, your hardened nipples are clearly visible through the thin shirt. They jut out in a distracting way; Hoseok’s eyes drop down for a split-second in appreciation before flickering back to the clipboard in his hands.

“Your body is wound up. It’s tense in places it shouldn’t be.”

“Is that...a bad thing?”

“No. Your case is not abnormal.” He shakes his head and offers you a reassuring smile. “Although... Hm. When was the last time you achieved an an orgasm?”

You look away, mumbling your answer in an embarrassed voice. “Last night.”

More scribbling. He taps the end of the pen against his chin, pretending to be lost in thought.

His eyes glint when he asks, “How many times did you cum?”

It’s not real - none of this is - and yet you can feel warmth spreading from your cheeks down to your chest. It’s a strange sensation, stuck somewhere between humiliation and arousal, and it makes your entire body heat up from the inside out.

“Just - Just once…”

“Look at me.”

Your eyes snap towards his on command. He looks relaxed, unbothered, like he’s discussing the weather forecast and not your masturbation habits. You want to look away but something in his stare pins you in place.

“You’re telling me the truth, right?”

“Yes! I’m not - I wouldn’t lie.”

“Good.” He smiles pleasantly, nodding to himself. “So. You came once. Did you use your fingers? Or, perhaps, a toy?”

He’s still staring at you, forcing you to look him straight in the eyes while you confess your sins. Your thighs clench together and you struggle to focus on the conversation at hand.

“F-fingers.” Your breathing becomes ragged as you imagine Hoseok’s fingers replacing your imaginary ones. They’d fill you up nicely, too. Compared to your own, they’re longer, capable of reaching places yours can’t. All you’d have to do is hook your arms under your knees and keep your legs spread wide open. He doesn’t even need to take your clothes off; he could pull the seam of your shorts and underwear to the side and fuck you just like that. “I only used my fingers.”

He raises an eyebrow like he doesn’t quite believe you. Somehow, that makes the fire between your legs burn hotter. It’s like - he knows you’re too cockhungry to settle for just fingers. And if a mere stranger can tell how desperate you are to get fucked, what about the rest?

“Interesting.” Hoseok’s eyes darken by the minute. “And do you prefer clitoral stimulation to penetration?”

“I-” You pause and struggle to formulate your response. Your ears feel hot. In fact - your entire face feels like it’s on fire.

The embarrassment you feel doesn’t make sense - you’ve never had any qualms discussing sex. You can talk candidly about any topic for hours on end, from the condom brands you prefer to advice on how to maintain a rash-free pussy, to the point where some people might think you’re over-sharing or being too crass. Discussing intimate topics shouldn’t be a problem.

It’s not even a real dialogue anyway, so why do you -

“Yes?” Hoseok leans forward, interrupting your train of thought. The corner of his mouth is upturned, like he can’t help but be amused by your discomfiture.

“I like, um.” You close your eyes, hoping that it’ll somehow make the admission easier. It doesn’t. The darkness makes you feel even more exposed, like all your secrets are laid bare for him to see. Your voice quivers when you answer. “I - I touch - I mean, sometimes I’ll - my fingers aren’t long enough. So just rubbing the outside is - fine.”

“Ah. You like being stuffed full, I take it?” Hoseok’s vulgar vocabulary makes your eyes snap open in shock. He smirks, not expecting you to answer. “Poor girl.”

You shake your head, your reply dying in your throat. With every word he utters, your thoughts become fuzzy, muddled.

“What did you imagine last night while you were getting off? A stranger fucking your face? Big men taking turns using your cunt? Tell me. In detail, preferably.”

“I don’t see how-” The sharp look in his eyes makes you swallow down any protest. Still. You can’t get your mouth to work correctly and you look back at him helplessly.

“Is there a reason why you can’t tell me?” He tilts his head to the side, the smirk on his face growing, canines flashing. “Oh. I see.”

You flinch, your face impossibly hot.

“Were you thinking of today’s session?” He chuckles, delighted. “That’s quite naughty of you. Although, I can’t blame you, can I? We are known to deliver the best orgasma. It’s only natural to imagine what would happen.”

That’s right, you think. You’d spent all night fantasizing about a faceless, nameless stranger’s hands all over your naked body. How long had it been since you’d felt someone’s touch? Their tongue buried deep in your cunt, fucking you until your thighs trembled? Even your best dildo couldn’t hold a candle to a hot-blooded, throbbing cock.

Hoseok taps the pen against the clipboard, the staccato sound filling the silence.

“One last question.” He makes sure he has your undivided attention before continuing. “No need to look so worried. I won’t ask you what lewd thoughts you get off to, although maybe in future sessions I’ll expect that of you.”

You don’t linger on the implication there - that you’ll undoubtedly come back for seconds - and nod your assent for him to go on.

“Did you cum hard while thinking of getting fucked by me today?”

You inhale sharply, struggling to hold his stare. “I… The sheets were so wet afterwards, I had to change them.”

“I see.” He jots something down on his clipboard but his reaction doesn’t give anything away. Nervously, you pull on a loose string hanging from the hem of your short. “Hm…”

After a few seconds of silence he speaks up again, done with his assessment.

“Well, normally for first timers such as yourself we’d recommend starting with a more soothing body massage. But I think in your case a more thorough massage is needed. It’s not a cause for concern!” He adds quickly, as if to assuage any growing fears. “But in my professional opinion, I think the massage I have in mind for you might be more beneficial than the beginner level massage.”

“Um, what does this massage entail exactly?”

“We call it the full treatment. In other words - it’s a deep tissue penetration massage,” Hoseok explains calmly. “It includes an internal massage. We’ll use a variety of methods but rest assured - all techniques are tried and tested! You’ll be in safe hands.”

You pretend to mull it over.

Hoseok waits for your nod of confirmation before instructing, “There are towels at your disposal.” He motions to the pile of fluffy white towels folded neatly on the bench. “Feel free to use them. While you change into a...less restricting outfit, I’ll go retrieve the rest of the massage equipment. See you in a bit!”

And with that he’s gone. The privacy he grants you is, of course, just an illusion. Even without looking in their direction, you know that the cameras’ lenses are all focused on you, waiting to capture the impending striptease. You’d forgotten about them but Hoseok’s absence reminds you of their presence.

Per Director Ryu’s earlier instructions, you make a show of taking off your clothes. Teasing the camera comes naturally to you thanks to your prior experience as a cam girl; you know exactly which angles are the most flattering and which ones, on the other hand, emphasize your flaws.

Your back arches as you peel off your shirt, drawing attention to the swell of your breasts and the curve of your waist. Not long after do you shimmy out of your shorts, exaggerating the swing of your hips for the audience’s viewing pleasure. You try not to show your surprise when the dampness of your crotch sticks to your folds as you pull them down your legs - you hadn’t expected how much a simple tit massage and few exchanged words would rile you up.

The denim pools around your ankles and when you bend over to retrieve the useless item of clothing, you’re acutely aware of how your wet, waxed pussy peeks out from between your thighs. You stay in position, giving the camera ample time to zoom in, and while the stretch isn’t painful (thanks to your yoga lessons!), it is a rather awkward position to maintain.

Once you straighten up, you take a few seconds to fold up the shirt and itty bitty shorts before setting them aside. Normally, you’d leave your discarded clothing strewn about but you can’t imagine your character behaving in such an uncouth way.

With that thought in mind, you wrap yourself with a short towel. Rather than covering your intimate bits, it’s so short that it emphasizes your nakedness. When you go to sit on the massage table, the towel rides up, leaving you exposed and you have to fold your hands in your lap to preserve a semblance of modesty.

It’s easy to convey nervousness while you wait for Hoseok’s return. While you’ve never attended any drama school, you have watched plenty enough Netflix dramas to know which physical cues are more or less effective - constant fidgeting, shifty eyes, audible gulping. Since it’s your first time putting your knowledge into practice, you’re not certain how convincing your acting is, but hey, isn’t it the effort that counts? You’re not here to audition for the starring role in Hollywood’s next summer blockbuster, after all.

Hoseok knocks twice before entering, stopping your self-depreciation in its tracks. He’s abandoned the earlier clipboard for a large, nondescript, white cardboard box that rattles with every step he takes. It sounds more ominous than it actually is.

If Director Ryu is truly aiming for realism, he wouldn’t make Hoseok carry back the items in a fucking box, you think privately. Who even does that? Although you suppose realism isn’t the be-all end-all, no matter how much the director insists. Sometimes viewers like to be metaphorically edged and endlessly teased, and all this guessing only adds to the build-up, making the climax more than worth it. They could, of course, fast-forward to get to the juicy sex scenes, the crux of the matter, but you’d like to believe all this extra effort is worth it.

You blink curiously back at Hoseok, feigning ignorance.

“Oh good.” He beams in your direction, his eyes drinking in your scantily-clad figure. “Now that you’re more comfortable, please lie down for me.”

He sets the box to the side, opens the lid, and takes out a bottle of oil while you settle down on your stomach and carefully rearrange your towel so that it covers your bum.

“I’ve chosen bergamot essential oil for today’s massage. It’s a nice, citrus-like scent that’s not too overwhelming because it’s been mixed in with sweet almond oil. Its many virtues include, but are not limited to, increasing the body’s energy flow and enhancing feelings of joy and freshness.”

“That sounds lovely.” You sigh dreamily. Getting massaged and getting dicked down in one go? Hell yeah. That one is a no-brainer for sure.

There’s a shadow of a smirk on Hoseok’s face when he rounds on you, like he’s somehow privy to your thoughts. That, or your eagerness is too transparent. You’re betting on the latter.

His voice lowers an octave, the low timber making shivers run down your back.

“Shall we begin?”

He moves your hair to the side, leaving your neck and back exposed. He then pulls down your towel so that it uncovers the expanse of your back and covers more of your bottom half instead.

“Is this alright?” he inquires. As if testing the waters, his fingers trace down the line of your spine, stopping right before your lower back dips into a curve.

You moan your assent. “More than.”

Hoseok takes the bottle of oil and drizzles its contents over your skin like a painter splattering ink onto a blank canvas. He spreads the lubricant all over your back, rubbing your skin in circular motions until you’re coated with it. You let out a few pleased sounds here and there that are not entirely faked or exaggerated. He definitely knows what he’s doing with his hands.

Honestly, you feel sorry towards your co-star who’s stuck doing most of the work while you’re splayed out like a starfish. It feels a bit unfair that you’re getting paid more than him when he’s the one putting in most of the effort. Had you any shame, you’d give him half of your pay for his services. Alas.

“Tell me if it hurts anywhere,” he warns, not unkindly.

Your back stiffens. You expect Hoseok to replicate the rough treatment he’d inflicted to your breasts, but contrary to your expectations, he kneads your body gently, almost tenderly. The contrast between this touch and his earlier ministrations messes with your head. When his hands outline your flank, his fingers prodding the sides of your breasts, you swallow a hopeful sigh as you wait for him to envelop your soft mounds and roll your sensitive nipples between his skilled fingers.

Betrayal brews in your gut when he fails to indulge your fantasies. You’re tempted to grab his wrist and guide his hand to where you need it the most but you miraculously hold yourself back. Since the scene doesn’t call for that much impatience and desperation on your part, you’d hate to be the reason why Director Ryu asks for a re-take.

Thankfully, he soon puts you out of your misery. Hoseok retreats, done teasing the sides of your breasts for the time being. You’re not sure it’s relief or disappointment that swims in your lower belly, but Hoseok doesn’t give you time to dwell on the question. Almost as soon as he retracts his hands from your back, he redirects his attention to your legs. His hands, warm and slick from the oil, glide over the back of your calves and thighs with ease. His thumbs rub circular shapes into your flesh as he slowly works his way up, the pleasant sensations leaving your whole body boneless.

“You loosen up well.”

Hoseok’s fingers skirt the hem of the towel. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he toys with the fabric.

“Will you open up for me, pretty? You look tense right here.” He flips the towel up, revealing your bare lower half. He wastes no time before gripping the meat of your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the supple flesh. He spreads your cheeks apart, cool air blowing against your exposed holes, and lets them jiggle back into place after giving the camera ample time to capture the view. “Hm. Looks like you haven’t been properly stretched out in a long time... We’ll fix that today.”

Bolts of pleasure run through your body. The whole situation is ludicrous and yet, for whatever reason you cannot pinpoint, moisture gathers between your thighs with every passing second, adding to the mess dripping from your folds.

“Um, like this?” You part your legs open slightly, as if unsure. In situations like these, the biggest challenge is to act diffident and coy when all you want is for your co-star to blow your back out.

He tsks, the sound sharp and reproving. It goes straight to your core and makes your belly clench with unspeakable need.

“How am I supposed to fuck your holes open in that position?” He has the audacity to sound impatient. “Work with me here.”

He grabs your ankles and separates them himself, ignoring your yelp of surprise. Unaccustomed to the stretch, the muscles in your thighs strain with the effort to hold the position.

A whine slips out your mouth. He’s so mean.

While you expect Hoseok to act somewhat distant and objective because of the role he’s playing, his fluctuating behavior gives you nothing but whiplash. One moment he’s cordial and friendly, the epitome of what a  professional should be, the next he’s treating you like you’re his plaything, not his client.

His grip around your ankles is firm and unyielding. He’s got you spread impossibly wide, your legs dangling dangerously off the edge of the table with your waxed holes exposed for inspection.

“That’s good, just like that.” His hands let go of your ankles when he’s sure you won’t move from the position he’s steered you into. He strokes up your legs, the touch feather-light and fleeting. “Keep your legs spread wide. I want to see your cute little holes on display.”

His crude remarks make your body flush with heat.

Even if this is the sort of place that offers sexual gratification, Hoseok’s wording toes several lines. As his client, he should be focused on giving you pleasure, so why do his comments make it sound like you’re here for his entertainment instead?

Despite your character being fully aware of what type of establishment she’s visiting, you reckon Hoseok’s words are enough to make her squirm in embarrassment. There’s something filthy about the way he orders you around and bends you to his will. Even you’re not indifferent to the impersonal way he handles your body like a doll. Flickers of arousal lick up your spine, and with your legs extended so far apart, it’s not difficult for Hoseok to notice how much you’re wound up.

The position is far from proper. Hot streaks of humiliation burn through you when you imagine how easy and slutty you must seem to whoever is watching. You don’t dare move from the pose he’s maneuvered you into, not because you’re scared of the consequences, but because his presence demands obedience. Even without explicitly saying so, he’s made it clear that for the next hour or so, you’re his to toy with.

“Good girl. You open up so nicely.” Hoseok purrs, satisfied with your compliance. “Now let me see what I’m working with here.”

He swipes his index finger through your glossy folds, the action forcing you to stifle a startled gasp. It’s nothing like the erotic oil massage you’d experienced minutes prior. The touch is inquisitive, clinical, assessing. Like he’s testing out a new product before purchase.

You want to stay still but you’re so wound up from his incessant teasing. The slightest caress makes the hairs on the back of your nape stand straight. Hoseok is all too aware of this fact. The tip of his pointer finger comes in contact with your clit, the touch more delicate than a feather's caress. Hoseok watches with thinly veiled amusement as you jerk against the table.

“You really are sensitive,” he all but coos. “What a treat. Don’t need any oil when you’re leaking all over the table like a faucet. How long has it been since someone touched you here, hm?”

The teasing lilt in his voice borders on condescending. Heat simmers under the surface of your skin as you struggle to collect your thoughts.

“Eight months,” you squeak just as two of his fingers dip into your slicked up entrance.

“No wonder you’re all worked up.” He slides his digits right up to the knuckle, the glide so easy it’s embarrassing. “Needy holes like yours should be used more often.”

He fucks his fingers into your pussy one, two, three times, before pulling away, chuckling under his breath when your hips push back, greedy and desperate for more. Using the same hand he’d used to test out your cunt Hoseok slaps your ass once, the sharp sting making you still at once.

The damp mark on your ass is a testament to how fucking soaked you are. You can’t imagine what kind of mess the cameras are picking up on - but maybe you don’t have to.

Hoseok wipes his fingers off on you, using you to clean himself off. Although you can’t see anything because of the way you’re laying down, everything feels wet and filthy. He rubs your own juices onto your skin, reminding you of the intensity of your need.

And just when you don’t think his mouth can get any filthier, he proves you wrong.

“I can tell you haven’t been stretched recently,” he sighs, almost disappointed. “You’re just gagging for a pounding, aren’t you? It’s a shame your fuck-hole is too tight to take a big cock or I would have given it to you right away.”

Your lower body clenches as his words wash over you.

The idea sounds downright delicious. Hoseok is right. Even if it’s just for the sake of the storyline, there’s nothing more you want right now than a good, hard fucking. It would take him less than ten seconds for him to pull his hard cock out from his scrubs and make a home for himself between your thighs. Images flash through your mind of Hoseok’s hands on your breasts, in your hair, around your throat. You want him to cover you, smother you, as he forces you down against the table and takes his fill. You want his lips on your skin, hot and possessive, as he uses you like the cocksleeve he needs you to be.

God, you want that. You want to be used hard, to be fucked full until you break. You need this - your character needs this.

You whimper, high-pitched and needy. “Please. Please, I want it. I want - I want your cock.”

“I’m sure you do.” Hoseok all but scoffs. “Why don’t you just sit still and relax for me? I’m going to massage you until you’re nice and loose, alright? First-timers like you could get hurt if they’re not prepped properly but I’ll get you ready, don’t worry. By the end of this, you’ll be able to take big cocks in all your holes like a pro.”

“Shit.”

You bite back a moan, startled at how much you’re turned on.

Porn dialogue is rarely arousing. You’re the first to tune out your partner whenever they talk for longer than a minute. It’s because you hear the same exact shitty lines repeated so often that you’re half-convinced there’s a porn acting for dummies handbook being circulated around.

Although… Maybe if Hoseok’s lines had been delivered by someone else, they wouldn’t have the same effect on you. That’s the difference, you think to yourself. Hoseok’s delivery. The cockiness that infuses his every word, the way he confidently carries himself… He does it all so convincingly - nothing like the wooden and awkward memorized performances you’ve witnessed from fellow actors.

While you’re lost in thought, Hoseok rummages inside the cardboard box. Without his touch or words to distract you, it’s harder to ignore the building arousal between your legs. As the seconds tick by, your shameful desire only worsens.

Before you can crane your neck or voice your confusion, Hoseok returns, humming under his breath.

“We’re gonna try a different massage technique now. This method will help with lubrication,” he explains evenly. “I’ll use a special vibrating tool that will massage hard to reach areas.”

“Um…” You swallow, blinking rapidly. “Okay.”

“It’s not as scary as it sounds. We’ll start off slow and I’ll gradually up the intensity once I deem you ready for the next stage. How does that sound?”

A click, followed by a low buzzing, fills the room.

You gasp when the vibrating object comes in contact with the back of your knee. Hoseok’s free hand settles on your leg - a nonverbal reminder to keep your legs wide open for him as well as the cameras.

“See? Nice and easy. Nothing to be scared of.”

He rotates the tool in slow, even circles. You force yourself to relax and accept the foreign massage, disregarding how strange it feels to have small vibrations travel up and down your leg. After a few minutes of him repeating the same motions on your other leg, he slowly makes his way up your thighs, the rounded tip of the tool dangerously close to your drenched pussy.

A pleading whine reverberates in your chest. The electric whirring of the vibrator is not enough to soothe the burning between your thighs. If anything, it makes it worse. You need more, you think urgently.

Hoseok moves to the side of the table so that the cameras can get an unobstructed view of your clenching hole. It’s the first time you’ve seen his face since he made you lie down. From his voice alone, it’s impossible to tell how affected he is. More than once you’d caught yourself wondering… Does he like what he sees? Is he enjoying himself?

A dark streak of satisfaction crosses over you when you notice the hunger in his gaze, his pupils blown so wide his brown eyes look black. Drool pools in your mouth when you spot the sizable tent in his scrubs.

The fact that you’re at the perfect height to suck his dick doesn’t slip by you. He could flip you over onto your back, your head hanging off the table, and use your mouth to his heart’s content. You whimper at the thought of him fucking your face, your mouth reduced to a fleshlight for him to get off. You could probably cum like that - his cock buried deep in your throat, his fingers pressed against the side of your neck to you struggle around his length, while his other hand reaches down to grab at your breast, using it as an anchor to fuck into you harder.

“Shit, you’re really making a mess of my work table.”

Hoseok’s gaze is trained between your legs. He wets his lips and adjusts his hold on the vibrator. The sudden movement changes the angle, positioning the tool right over your dripping entrance, closer than ever to your swollen clit. The vibrations suddenly feel louder and stronger than before. If this keeps up, you reckon that it won’t be long before you’re hurtling towards the edge of a precipice.

A moan slips past your parted lips, loud and wanton. Embarrassed by the sheer need that colors your voice, you quickly shut your mouth closed, hoping that your desperation goes by unnoticed.

Hoseok chuckles, the sound sharp and mean. He comments on your obscene behavior, how you’re acting so slutty it’s a wonder you’d kept this side of you locked away for this long without people suspecting your love for cock. Every word infiltrates your mind, leaves no corners untainted, until all you can think and breathe and smell is him.

“Over the years, I’ve seen a lot of sluts parade in here and pay for my time,” he says, his dulcet tone making the degradation sweeter. You hang onto each and every word, letting yourself fall deeper into a haze of arousal and submission. “But it’s been a while since someone like you showed up. Just look at this… Your little fuck-hole can’t even take a bit of teasing without getting me dirty.”

The buzzing between your thighs switches back and forth between strong pulses and rapid, little vibrations. You keen, shaking from head to toe in pleasure. Your thighs are wet, sticky with your juices, and your clit is hard and aching for attention.

You don’t even want to know what state your sopping pussy is in. Every time your body jerks and trembles, you feel the pool of arousal that’s gathered underneath you. It’s - embarrassing. That you’re this soaked and close to cumming when he hasn’t even touched your clit or fucked you with his cock.  

In the midst of your pleasure-induced haze, your eyes meet his. The lines of his face are drawn into a smug expression, his gaze smoldering. Embers of arousal light up his dark eyes, and you can only stare back at him, clit throbbing, as he ups the intensity of the vibrations.

“Fuck! Oh God, oh I’m-” Your legs thrash, hips lifting off the table in an effort to escape the shocks of pleasure zapping throughout your body. Mercifully - or not, depending on how you looked at it - Hoseok brought the vibrations down a few settings, until the whirring had quieted down to a low thrum.

“Feeling good, huh?” The grin he sends your way is positively wicked. “I think you’re ready to take more.”

More? you think weakly. Any more and you’ll explode, like popcorn kernels in a microwave.

For a second you think he’ll bring the vibrator up to your clit. Maybe even slide the long, phallic-shaped vibrator inside your pussy so that it’ll stretch you out like he’d promised. What you don’t expect is for him to bring it down to your other hole, the powerful vibrations rattling you to the core.

Your surprised gasp is so loud, not even the buzzing of the toy drowns it out. Hoseok places his available hand on your left hip and pins you to the table, the gentle weight keeping you steady.

“That’s right,” he soothes, voice smooth like silk. It sounds patronizing, almost like he’s calming down a dog startled by thunder or explaining right from wrong to a small child.

“Um.” You let trepidation inch its way into your voice. “You - what are you doing? That’s not - that’s dirty.”

“What is?”

“My,” you pause, humiliation coiling tightly around your spine. Hoseok presses the toy harder around your rim, its coat of arousal making the tip slide over your sensitive skin. You’re tempted not to answer but you know Hoseok wants you to voice the dirty words. “My asshole. It’s - dirty. Please - I… I don’t think you should touch it. It’s not right.”

You mumble the end of your sentence like you’re embarrassed to say such a scandalous thing out loud.

Hoseok laughs, sounding both mocking and endeared. “Oh, sweetheart. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I’m going to loosen up all your holes. Because that’s what you’ve always wanted deep down, isn’t it? To service cock. Even if it means letting me play with this dirty hole of yours.”

The vibrations intensify with the click of a button. Your whole body spasms, limbs flailing pathetically as the sensations run down your back all the way to the tip of your toes.

You bite down a whimper. How does he know? How can he tell? All you want right now is a nice, hard cock buried inside of you - and at this point you don’t care which orifice he sticks in it. You’re just so - empty. So empty it physically aches.

Hoseok dials down the intensity of the vibrator and with his free hand, squeezes a copious amount of oil onto the toy, slicking it up.

Surprisingly he doesn’t bother prepping you with his fingers before easing the toy into your back entrance. From your position, you can’t tell if Director Ryu signaled to hurry things along or if his own impatience played a part. Either way, your sharp intake of breath is genuine.

You try your best to relax your muscles but the toy is thicker than expected, its sides bumpy and ribbed. Even though you’d stretched yourself out beforehand with a sizable dildo, the girth of the toy still makes your breath hitch. Your bottom lip hurts as you scrape your teeth over it.

“Relax for me. That’s it.” Hoseok whispers soft words of encouragement. “You’re doing such a good job.”

Finally, after what seems like light years, the toy is fully inserted, only the base of it peeking out from between your parted cheeks. You feel full, deliciously so. It’s only now with the weight of the toy inside of you that you realize how much you’d missed being stuffed to the brim.

“There you go.” Hoseok smacks your right ass cheek hard enough for the sting to go straight to your clit. “How does that feel?”

“Full.” You smack your lips together. Eloquence is not your strongest suit in the present moment and your lack of coherency only humiliates you further. It’s like he’s rendered you cock-dumb. Reduced you to a lust-driven creature that only has dick on the brain. “I feel good.”

“Of course you’d enjoy that.” The cockiness in his voice is undeniable, like he’s drunk off the power he has over you. “Needy sluts like you only care about getting filled up, huh?”

It sounds like a rhetorical question but you answer it anyway, just in case he wanted an answer.

“Yes! I’m a needy slut. Please - could you…?” You wriggle your hips, trying to entice him into action. The rocking motion jostles the toy nestled inside of you, causing you to choke out a moan. “Hng! Use my pussy this time, please?”

Hoseok clucks his tongue and slaps your ass again to keep you still. It moves the lodged vibrator, knocking it against a spot inside of you that makes you gush. Your pussy clenches up in an imitation of an orgasm - but you know from experience that you haven’t cum just yet.

Fuck. You’re so fucked and he hasn’t even given you his cock.

Your head thumps down against the table as you take in deep, steadying breaths. You can’t think straight; every thought seems clouded by a dense smog of lust. Your body feels like a live wire, all your nerve endings crackling with electricity. How much more can you endure before you shatter beyond repair?

Hoseok takes pity on you. “The vibrating massage should have helped your muscles relax. Your tight cunt should be able to fit this in by now.”

He slides another silicone toy into your pussy, this one wider and longer than the first. Your hands grapple for purchase as your body accommodates both toys, one in each hole. You’re so wet that there’s no resistance despite its impressive size and you suck in a breath as Hoseok keeps pushing it in, inch by interminable inch.

If you thought you felt full before, it’s nothing compared to how stretched you feel now. The wall separating the two toys is stretched thin and when you tense your abdomen, you can feel both of them nudge against one another. Your stomach feels - bloated. As if there’s a bulge where the toys are nestled deep inside of you.

It’s quite frankly obscene.

You’ve never felt more turned on.

“Whoa.” He grips both of your legs and widens them even further, displaying your stuffed holes for the cameras. “Your hungry cunt ate up my biggest dildo like it was nothing.”

The fact that he admitted it was a dildo - and not some vibrating tool - just adds to your mortification.

“Okay. Two holes down, one to go.”

He releases his hold on your legs and raises a brow at you. The smirk is back on his face and that, paired with the ravenous look in his eyes, makes you want to run and hide. He looks like he’s two seconds away from devouring you whole for dinner. “Why don’t you turn around for me? It wouldn’t be a full body massage if I didn’t rub down the other side, right?”

His chuckle spurs you into action. It’s not that you’re not embarrassed by the idea of baring yourself completely for him like some sort of cult offering, but the need to get dicked down trumps all.

Your mind feels fuzzy and your body sluggish. There’s a fire inside of you that not even double penetration has managed to extinguish and it roars to life as you manœuvre into the position he’s ordered you to get into. The toys jostle inside of you, reminding you of the depraved lengths you’d go to because you’re starving for cock.

He’s right about you, you think as you settle onto your back. You’re a needy slut. All you want is for your holes to be filled. And when they’re empty, your body aches with the need to fill them back up again. Toys will do but they’re a poor substitute for what you really want.

Thankfully, Hoseok’s own patience is running out. You’ve barely gotten into a comfortable position when he’s fishing out his cock from his scrubs, not even bothering to remove his clothes.

Drool pools into your mouth at the sight. He’s just as long as you remembered him to be. Not too thick or veiny, but prettily flushed and glistening with translucent precum. How long has he been hard? The erection looks painful. Distantly, you’re comforted by the knowledge that you haven’t been the only one suffering from this prolonged foreplay. God is fair, you rejoice internally. 

Your mouth opens of its own accord and your tongue lolls out, hungry.

Hoseok doesn’t comment on your pathetic state -  a testament to how worked up he probably is. He guides his cock into your waiting mouth with barely repressed urgency.

His cock is heavy on your tongue, the perfect weight. He pushes in until he can’t go any further, the position you’re in giving him better access to your throat. You fucking love it.

When you swallow around his length, he hisses between his teeth. “Shit.”

He gives you little time to adjust. As soon as he’s certain you can take it, he starts to thrust his hips. His cock drags across the rough surface of your tongue as it’s pushed and pulled out of your mouth at a rapid pace. Each thrust of his hips makes you gag, drool running down the sides of your face, and the obscene sounds of your choking echo in your ears.

The rough treatment should revolt you, make you squirm or shy away, but you’ve never felt more alive. Your mind feels pleasantly blank - like your sole purpose in life is to be a glorified cum bucket, a receptacle for his cock and cum. Even when he buries himself all the way to the hilt, so far down your throat it feels like he’s reached your stomach, you’re eager for more. Logically speaking you don’t even know if you can handle more, don’t have the mental faculty to figure out if more is physically possible, but your body knows that it’ll never be sated, not fully, not until he cums inside you.

“Greedy girl,” he rasps between heavy breaths. “Look at you… I’ve plugged up three of your holes but you’re still gagging for it, aren’t you? Filthy slut.”

His words are meant to degrade and humiliate you. Instead of disgust, you can hear the admiration ring in his voice. His awe satisfies you and you hollow your cheeks, suctioning around his girth just to hear him curse under his breath. You live for the way his hips stutter and how his deep breathing is interspersed by the occasional grunt or moan. It feels good to know that you’re bringing him pleasure, that your hole is satisfactory.

Hoseok reaches over your body and grabs something from the discarded cardboard box you can’t see. You soon find out what it is though - the oil is drizzled over your torso and chest, liquid spilling down the sides of your body. He throws the bottle to the side, more interested in spreading the lubricant over your tits until they’re slick and shiny.

It soon becomes clear that he’s abandoned his earlier massage techniques in favor of a more rushed treatment. Gone is the slow build-up. He rubs your breasts, grabbing and squeezing them like stress balls, and pinches your hard nipples tightly between his fingers, pulling them out until your back arches.

The next time he slams his erect length into your mouth, your breasts bounce from the force of the thrust. Hoseok’s eyes remain transfixed on the lewd way your breasts jiggle; because he keeps your nipples clamped tightly between his fingers, your tits have no other choice but to swing around every time he rocks his hips back and forth.

Every time you gag and choke on his cock, tears prickling your eyes, you feel the fire between your legs grow stronger. Shame and arousal course through you, your head dizzy with lust. You can’t move, can’t scream, all of your moans of pleasure muffled by the cock buried in your throat.

He laughs derisively, pulling out after a particularly hard thrust. A string of saliva connects your mouth to his cock and your eyes zero in on it, finding it impossible to look away.

“You slut.”

He makes a disapproving noise low in his throat before slapping you across the face with his cock.

It doesn’t hurt anywhere as much as a real slap but it’s so unexpected you gasp, your jaw throbbing in pain. The imprint of his cock is wet and dirty against your cheek. He keeps his cock hanging a few centimeters above your face. It taunts you, beckons you closer. The seam of your mouth stays wide open, your appetite evidently knowing no limits.  

“Heh. You’re really something… Never seen a whore so cock-hungry in my life. And trust me when I say I’ve seen plenty.” He sneers, walking away.

For a long second, you fear he’s gone and left you high and dry and that the scene will end like that. Except - no. He’s positioned himself at the other side of the massage table. You shudder as you realize that can only mean one thing : he’s going to grant you the fucking your body craves. 

Hoseok’s lips twitch into a knowing half-smile. He grips his stiff cock in one hand, the length of it soaked with your spit and precum.

You gulp, suddenly intimidated. Perhaps it’s the angle, but he looks taller than you remember him to be, bigger, his shoulders slightly broader. His cock looks more imposing, too. Despite just having choked on it, it’s long; his hand sits loosely at the base of his cock, leaving a few good inches poking out of his fist. Your mouth goes dry, your insatiable hunger reawakened. 

The impatience marring your features is probably disgustingly obvious because Hoseok makes another comment about how desperate and pathetic you look once you’re deprived of cock.

Using his left hand, he slowly removes the toy from your ass. The slide is painful because you’re clenching so hard down on it, unwilling for your hole to become empty once again.

A whimper escapes your parted lips. Hoseok laughs at the betrayed look that crosses your face at the loss of the thick dildo.

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He slaps your entrance with his cock, his grin wolfish as you wail in reply. “Stay still if you want my cock.”

Immediately you freeze, taking his words to heart. Deep down, you know that he won’t be that cruel but you’re so exhausted from the never-ending teasing, that you’re not willing to take any chances.

Hoseok holds up one of your legs and pushes it over his shoulder.

“Good girl.” He breaches your ass, both of you moaning as his cock works its way inside of you. It’s a tight fit; you can feel his cock bump into the vibrating dildo in your pussy, the feeling overwhelming you. He grunts, fingertips bruising your skin as he hold back from cumming too quickly. 

His hips work up a steady rhythm, the both of you already so close to finishing. You know that a lesser man would have cum ages ago, but Hoseok troops on, eyebrows creased in concentration. He looks - hot. Ridiculously hot, even in that dumb fake masseuse uniform.

His once perfectly combed hair is now disheveled, strands of hair falling over his eyes and dripping brow. There’s something about all of it - the wild glint in his eyes, the rough way he’s fucking you, the domineering aura that he exudes - that makes you absolutely lose it.

You clench up on his cock without warning, your insides squeezing around him even more tightly because of the toy still lodged in your dripping cunt. The orgasm rips through you, fast and hard, leaving your thighs soaking. Hoseok fucks you through it, his cock relentless, drawing your pleasure out until your body goes limp. 

It’s the kind of orgasm that on a normal day you could only hope to achieve.

Except Hoseok doesn’t stop to let you rest or take a breather. He brings your other leg over his shoulder, testing the limits of your flexibility, and uses the new angle to plow into you with renewed force.

“Ah - ah fuck wait!” You cry out, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations traveling through your body. “Oh my God, oh shit! You’re so fucking deep, ah!”

Hoseok chooses that moment to turn on the vibrating dildo. He doesn’t even start at the lowest setting, sets it straight to one of the higher level ones, and your whole body jumps. Both of you moan as the toy comes to life. The vibrations rattle your insides - and that, coupled with the fat cock that’s splitting you open relentlessly, threaten to rearrange your insides.

Arousal builds again quickly inside of you, pulsing steadily alongside your heartbeat.

You feel so fucking full you think it’s possible you’ll burst. Before, when you had both toys buried inside of you, the stretch and the fullness had been pleasant. You had even been able to tune it out for the most part once you’d got used to it.

But with the way Hoseok is now fucking into you with reckless abandon, it’s impossible not to be reminded of how stuffed your holes are. Every thrust of his cock in your ass bumps against the vibrator, pushing it harder against your bundle of nerves. 

“I knew the minute I saw you,” he growls, his pace punishing. “No bra, pussy ripe for the picking. Whores like you could never be satisfied with the beginner massage. No, I knew exactly what you needed.”

He adjusts his grip on your ankles and the change in angle keeps the vibrator pressed directly the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you.

“Fuck! Oh God, there there! Please, keep going. It’s so good. Fuck me!” You chant, out of your mind with pleasure.Your words are raw, unrefined, and in any other circumstance, you’d laugh at how ridiculous you sound.

“You’re so fucking loud,” he hisses between grunts of pleasure. “Why don’t you go ahead and cum for me. Make yourself useful and tighten up this hole of yours so I can feel good.”

He reaches down between your legs and fiddles with the switch.

You scream. Your eyes roll back and your entire body locks up. Intense pleasure that you’ve never experienced before thunders through your body. If your previous orgasm was like a building wave crashing to the shore at long last, this one is a fucking tornado determined to rip you to pieces.

Maybe you might’ve passed out. You don’t know. But when you regain consciousness, Hoseok’s cock is pulsing jet after jet of hot cum inside of your pussy. You feel it spurt inside of you, coating your already slick walls with his essence. 

He pulls out quickly so that the camera can zoom in on the way the cum oozes out of you in thick globs. Instinctively you clench your walls to keep more from leaking out, but it only pushes more of the mess out, painting your inner thighs white.

When you glance up at him you notice his shirt is soaked. There’s a huge dark spot that starts from his chest to his pants. He doesn’t seem to mind the stain.

“You came so hard you passed out,” he informs you while tucking his spent cock back inside his scrubs. “I came inside of you while you were out of it but I figured you wouldn’t mind. That’s what you came here for, right?”

The smile he shoots your way looks more like a smirk. You bite your lip. He must’ve taken out the dildo - or it might’ve gotten pushed out during your orgasm, you don’t know - and you feel your holes gape a little after being stretched and used for so long. You’re tempted to snap your legs shut but you know the cameras need to record your debauchery.

“I’ll let you change. You can meet me out front to schedule your next appointment. Hm let’s see… Considering how well you reacted during this session I think we’ll have to take more, hm, drastic measures next time. I’m curious to see how far your greedy cunt is able to stretch with enough incentive. I’m positive that with you anything is possible. We’ll try fitting two cocks insides for starters and maybe - ah. I’m getting carried away.” He chuckles. “Anyways, meet me at the counter in ten minutes and we can go over the details then.”

“I…” You wet your lips. “I’d like that.”

A silence ensues and for a second you think your acting was bad or you’d said the wrong thing.

“CUT! And that, my friends, is what you call art!” yells Director Ryu, clapping his hands like a seal.

You breathe out a sigh of relief and sit up despite your muscles protesting loudly. God, your ass feels sore. Hoseok had really done a number on you.

“Hey, are you all good?” He asks, drawing closer to you in concern. He must have seen your grimace.

“Oh! Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. It’s just - it was kind of intense. In a good way! I’ll probably be sore later but that’s because I’m not used to these kind of scenes yet.”

“You were really hot. I couldn’t tell this was your first anal scene at all.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Really.” Hoseok sighs dreamily. “I think I saw Jesus when I came.”

“What?” You bring a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter. “It was a good nut, I take it?”

“The best.” He looks over at you, dimples on his cheek as he returns your smile. “I blacked out for a second and went to heaven.”

You bask in the afterglow for a few minutes longer than you usually would. Hoseok makes no move to leave either, even if logic dictates that you’re both better off washing up instead of letting the mixture of sweat, cum, and oil dry on your skin. You know from experience that it’s hard as fuck to clean up once it hardens - not to mention it stinks.

“Babe!”

You’re roused from your peaceful state of mind as your boyfriend approaches. He’s smiling but one side of his mouth looks stiff. He hands you a towel, eyes trailing down your figure, and suddenly you feel self-conscious. You hurriedly wrap the fluffy material around you, eager to hide the cum still dripping out of your swollen cunt and the red marks littered over your body from Hoseok’s rough treatment.

It’s not - you’re not ashamed. You never are. It’s just - you don’t want to hurt Jimin. Even if it does come with the job, it can’t be easy for him to see his girlfriend getting fucked by someone else.

“That was so good! You did great. The camera really loves you. I can’t wait to see how the final cut turns out,” Jimin compliments and you preen despite yourself, conditioned to suck up praise. “Are you hungry?”

Just on cue your stomach lets out a grumble.

Jimin’s eyes crease into crescents as he smiles. “I knew it. You’re always famished after a scene. It’s a good thing I booked a reservation at our favorite restaurant, right?”

You nod, thankful yet again that you have such a caring and thoughtful boyfriend. “I’m famished now that you mention it.”

Hoseok observes the exchange silently and his presence makes you embarrassed for some reason. Maybe not embarrassed but - something. You can’t put a name to the emotion.

“Um, I’ll see you around?” You say as you gather to your feet. Jimin is instantly by your side, his hand wrapping around yours tightly. “It was nice working with you again! Thank you for your hard work.”

Hoseok’s lips quirk into a half-smile. He’s still eyeing the both of you in a strange, intense kind of way and the scrutiny makes you fidgety. You try not to make your desire to flee the scene too transparent.

“It’s always a pleasure. I look forward to working with you again.”

The words he utters are tactful and diplomatic - nothing like the carefree familiarity he’d showcased minutes prior. You don’t blame him, given the circumstances.

You shoot him an apologetic look as you turn away to leave. To your relief, Hoseok doesn’t appear dejected or offended. Just - curious, maybe? Pensive? Like he’s in the middle of solving a complicated and intricate puzzle and that puzzle involves you.

The idea scares you. Mostly because you yourself don’t know what he’ll find.

As soon as you’ve rounded the corner, Jimin excuses himself. “I have to finish helping the guys. There’s still some equipment to put away. But we’ll meet out in the back like last time?”

“Sure.”

He kisses your cheek and scampers away.

Seokjin is waiting for you in the next room over. He’s holding a water bottle, your favorite silk robe, and a dark chocolate energy bar. You’re so sweaty that it feels silly to wear the robe but you shrug it on anyway, knowing that Jimin will feel better if you’re not parading around the set naked.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and it’s only then that you realize the extent of how fucking hungry you are. Non-stop sex sure is tiring, you note while ripping open the energy bar with your teeth. Seokjin calls you a savage under his breath but those types of comments are so commonplace that it’s easy to tune him out.

“God, I could kiss you right now,” you say after swallowing down a mouthful of granola. After eating spinach exclusively for the past three days, the sweetness on your tongue tastes like a slice of heaven.

“Not with that mouth, you won’t.” Seokjin narrows his eyes. “I know where it’s been.”

Still high from your mind-shattering orgasm, you giggle and pretend to kiss him just to watch him squirm. It’s not until much later, after you’d washed up as best you could with the help of baby wipes, that you check your phone. You respond to a text or two before finally checking your social media page out of habit more so than anything else.

.

(2) new notifications

JHOPE94 has followed you!

JHOPE94 has mentioned you in their story.

.

It’s the same account Hoseok had shown you earlier in the day. You follow him without much thought, grinning to yourself when you read his bio “hope on streets and in the sheets ;)”, and click on his Instagram story.

You’re surprised to learn he’s one of those people who uploads multiple pictures about just about anything - his Starbucks’ coffee cup with JAY written in black sharpie, several mirror selfies, a snapshot of his shoes, pictures of the film crew setting up the scene. You click through the pictures, a little flummoxed by the random collage, and pause when you get to the picture you’d been tagged in.

It’s you. Squinting, you realize that he must have taken the candid picture in passing. You’re sitting in the hair and makeup chair, the makeup artist applying a layer of gloss on your lips. The row of lights that border all around the vanity mirror give your figure a halo spotlight effect.

JHOPE94 : not in heaven but i saw an angel today :))

.

.

[meichenxi]

*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid. 

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story. 

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice. 

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose? 

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then. 

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some. 

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind. 

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them. 

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that. 

suddenly, no one sees her at all. 

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own. 

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are - 

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway. 

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things?? 

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity. 

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.   

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me. 

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time. 

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved. 

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most. 

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily. 

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life. 

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good. 

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side. 

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

[bugscreating]

The worst part of American schooling

The flaws of American schooling number in the thousands and school is universally hated. But, being a teenager and watching/ seeing all the flaws and nuances in person is depressing but there is one thing that irks me more than anything else.

That is how much the school system makes people hate learning. 

The horrible thing is that in school there is essentially no teaching on how to learn, different ways to learn, and learning through mistakes.

Now to be fair I am a avid reader and learning is why I live, while a good portion of teenagers hate learning, so maybe I am making stuff up but most teens still like learning in some way or at least did.(even if they don’t realize it) 

I mean a lot of kids show a love for learning by asking 3 million questions, but the love gets stomped out because “It’s annoying”, “It doesn’t matter”, “Why do you need to know” Kids show a love for learning by taking up a new sport, practicing a talent, dedicating themselves to studying and their future, learning a language, learning an instrument.

It’s hard because all of these people don’t realize what they were doing was learning they see it as necessary skill building or hobbies and don’t really pay attention to the fact they learned it

It’s sad because they are so discouraged to continue learning. I mean in our society it’s all improving on already existing skills and beating records and while that’s amazing it hurts to watch at the same time 

Because a lot of teens and adults have these skills they learned in their childhood and they love them and work so hard on them but a lot start to hate or no longer find them fun at all which I know sucks

The worst part of that is when I talk to people about them no longer loving lifelong hobbies I realize the learning of the hobby was the best part for them

I mean most people say that they really loved it especially in the beginning and I ask them why, and they tell me all about loving seeing quick progress and the small but monumental successes in the beginning but after they got good or even ok at it they lost the inspiration and love

I just think, yeah, that was the point you reached the end of your learning curve

It’s not as fun because you already know enough the current learning isn’t enough

And being in high school and seeing this sucks even more

Because if you ask if they are learning any new skills or if they have a favorite class, they say no I hate school, I hate learning, or my least favorite I am to dumb/ stupid for school or to learn something new

Like no. You Are Not Dumb. people have just beat you down enough that you think you are

You learned everything you are able to do, all of your behavior, and everything you know from the people around you and they called you dumb because you didn’t learning well in an environment that only a handful of people actually learn well in. The majority of them struggled the same way you did

So then you have to find ways to get them learning without clueing them in by asking them to teach you something or participating in something new. Getting them to teach you to help them learn more about things they are already interested in and how to explain it to other people. And participating in something new to flat out learn they just don’t realize

Because the one thing we should learn from school isn’t taught, How to learn

Also it really sucks that the things we are taught is in a way that is so terrible, that there are so  few people who learn well in a classroom environment. Especially when everyone learns in a different way. Which is why we see all types of intelligence, people learn different ways and because of this people just can’t learn the same way and leads to even less people understand learning

I mean a lot of people learn the best and most through the arts or sports, talents, etc. 

Being someone who learns best through lectures it is absolutely devastating 

I get to watch all these geniuses who love to learn slowly die inside

I luckily learned that learning was the best part of life early on, through books and trying all sort of hobbies. 

And I know that these people surrounding me can change the world 

the people who love sports and learn through them have amazing hand eye coordination and are the best predictors of behavior I have ever met

Or the artists who learn through classes or trial and error and time, who literally everyone in the world benefits from the labors of artists

Or the social people they literally always know how to take care of you and who feels left out and lonely who have learned it through many years of testing wording and gestures

Or the outcasts who see the world differently or just don’t feel the need to blend in who learned it wasn’t worth it or haven’t quite learned to fix in 

Or the scientists who learned through trial after trial and research, Oh so much research 

Or the writers who spent years trying to express themselves and learned writing was an easier way to get their thought across

Then there are the learners the people who realized they loved learning even if it’s not traditional learning, made they don’t even realize they are learners but they love trying new things

Now I know I got a lot of topic throughout but I really love people and I really love learning and thinking about both together is amazing and also throws my heart in a hole and stomps on it cause

People are never taught how to learn

And life is hard, people struggle a lot and high school, a major part of most peoples life's, is often among the worst periods of peoples life's and learning gets tied right into the horrible part

I makes high school worse

Despite it’s depressing knowing the entire purpose of high school is to prepare kids for life and it doesn’t and so much genius in thrown away each year.

[nanyoky]

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

[spideyxmee]

The Moon's Dark Side Loves Better

A/N: Hi everybody! Thank you for giving time for this short oneshot of a (messed up) scenario I had.

On a serious note, please read in caution. This mildly contains serious topics which I won't specify in case I spoil everything. If you have any trauma or anything in regards to serious and disturbing topics, please proceed with caution or just don't read this at all and move on to the next fic.

Lastly, it is not my intention to hate/bash any canon characters.

I hope you would enjoy it!

socials | ao3 | intro

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Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Specific traumas I won't specify (please go to the next fic if you don't want to see any), some swear words

Pairing: Lily/Male OC, Jily

Genre: Dark

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Elio Gebber was a normal Ravenclaw with a pure heart. He was always kind-hearted and sweet to everyone he came across. The teachers adored his witty attitude in class and his clean reputation. It attracted a lot of people, even the ones older than him. He had attractive features that could charm anyone, long dirty blond hair, and grey-blue eyes. You could see his confidence in the way he walks and talks.

The students know nothing about Elio's hobbies and personal life. He would let others talk about themselves rather than tell something about him. Others describe him as reticent, while others call him mysterious, but this didn't stop students drool all over him.

It all changed when he showed interest in Lily Evans suddenly at the start of his 5th year. Though he was a year younger than her, he didn't care at all what others say. The news spread like wildfire and eventually alerted Lily's other courter James Potter, who was the complete opposite of Elio. But he was as popular among students.

"He's no match for me, right, Sirius?" James asks his best friend for reassurance that his long-time crush would eventually pick him rather than that "nerd." His best friend, Sirius, offered to bully and threaten Elio until he wouldn't even mention Lily's name. James was mature enough to turn down his offer and be a better man for his love.

"Hi, Evans!" Wearing a charming smile, the sanguine Ravenclaw leaned into a pillar to talk to the redhead in front of him at the Gryffindor table.

"You look wonderful today. Would you mind having some Butterbeer with me this Saturday? I would like to get to know you better."

Lily was staring at Elio, astonished. The whole table chattered, and the event eventually reached the far Slytherin table.

"Damn, that was smooth,"

"Maybe I should take him out, huh, Prongs." Sirius's gay heart leaped, while his group of friends shushed him and comforted the down James while he can only watch as the girl he liked for many years gets taken by a boy below his year. He refused to do his old tactics of aggression and respect Lily's decision.

From all the peer pressure, she agreed to give Elio a chance at dating. From what she knew, he was decent boyfriend material, but she would also like to know other things about him. They met up in the Three Broomsticks and had a successful date. He was nice enough to pay for everything they would buy.

On their second date, they enjoyed playing with the fallen leaves and buying candy at Honeydukes. He had great humor. He asked if she would like a kiss, both knew it was too quick for that, but he presented a muggle chocolate Lily adored called Kisses.

For their third date, a month later, they announced that they were officially dating. Elio knew everything about her. Now it's his turn to share things about himself. He told her that he had a hard childhood and didn't like sharing it with anyone. She understood him and promise to avoid mentioning it in the future.

"Hey, Lily! How are you doing?"

An old friend of hers, Frank Longbottom, approached them while sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks. He was visiting Hogsmeade for a break from his Auror training. She tried to hug him, but Elio was being overprotective and pushed Frank hard away from her. It was the first time anyone saw him being physical.

"Elio! That is so unnecessary," she pulled the boy back and stared at him in shock while asking herself why he was out of character.

"This is my friend, Frank. Frank, this is my Boyfriend, Elio." She blushed while she helps her friend stand up from the fall. The boy that wore a dark expression didn't even apologize and sat down again. He wanted the other two to sit down and ask questions that sound too protective for other people but seem normal to him.

Frank had to go and was only passing by to say hello. The boys both looked at each other intensely. That wasn't a good first impression with Lily's close friend.

As they walk back to Hogwarts after their date, Lily asks Elio if he was ok and grabbed his hand. It was cold and clenched tight.

A few dates came and go, but it got worse and worse. Elio became more aggressive over Lily's simple mistakes like misplacing borrowed things. He turned into a two-faced idiot that seems nice when people were looking. But when alone with his girlfriend, Elio sounded manipulative and self-centered. He wanted the love of his life to be perfect just for him.

After no time at all, she broke up with him. He threatened her that he would die if she broke up with him, but this didn't work on the bright woman at all. She was over his idiotic tactics and two-faced ass.

She told the whole school about him, but none of the students believe her. Elio became depressed and suicidal, and Lily was the one he blames. The entire school despised her, and rumor spread that she only dated Elio for his popularity and looks. The teachers could only do little for the broken-hearted's well-being. Their respective House heads talked to them he looked in a better state. Lily has no proof of abuse to accuse him.

"Lily, can we talk?" James patiently waited for her to come out of their House Head's chamber. Now is the time to at least comfort her.

"Since when do you call me by my first name, Potter?"

It was hard for her to hold back tears from her talk with Professor McGonagall. The teacher offered to look more into her ex for her. But that's all she can do for now.

"I-" Before he could get to say anything, she attempted to walk away. James went in front of her to stop her and gave her a concerned look. Lily stood straight and raised an eyebrow.

"I am here to say that I trust you and know that you would never lie about what Elio has done to you. You can always come to me if you want to talk."

She doesn't have any reason to trust the toe rag back after what he's done to her ex-best friend in their previous school years. But from what he's done this year and the Shrieking Shack incident, she feels that James is a better person and less of a toe rag.

Weeks went by, and the two talked more and more each day. Elio thought this was preposterous and made a scene breaking down and crying every time he sees them together in public. People around felt sorry for him and criticize the two friends that were soon to be a couple.

The school soon didn't care about the drama anymore and focused on other things, which Elio didn't fathom would happen. He hid and kept a low profile for years.

On his 17th birthday, Elio obliviated his mother to erase every memory of him. His mother, Sharon Gebber, didn't care about her own child. Ever since his mother and father divorced in the summer before his 5th year, his mother abused him. She would often use him as a slave and never notice the achievements that he did so that his own mother would pay attention. This lead to his thirst for recognition in public.

Elio successfully erased her mother's memory so she could fuck off his life. He learned about the power of the spell for a specific plan of his. But clearing his mother's memory was just a practice run.

After he graduated, Elio took a job at the daily prophet to earn some money. People there think he's mental. He credits every team achievement to himself and seeks attention every chance he gets.

And even after five years, he was still not over his "love" for Lily. Elio wanted her to love him since he believes that he deserves her.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

While Lily was shopping for baby Harry's stuff at Diagon Alley, she came across an old friend of hers. Elio was sitting at Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour, writing on a notepad about news from Gringotts. She winced as she recalled all the unpleasant memories of him shouting and making her feel bad about herself. Though it was a long time ago, it still left a faint scar on Lily.

When Lily was about to turn away, he looked up, and they met eye-to-eye. He ran up to her and was about to hug her until she stood back.

"Oh Merlin, Lily! How are you?"

She thought of getting mad at him and ignore him for the things he did. But she thought, what if he's changed? He's matured physically, maybe emotionally and mentally too.

"I'm ok. How about you?" She talked slowly, and her voice was softer than usual.

They sat down and chatted for a bit. Lily was clearly uncomfortable, while Elio was very talkative and talked about himself a lot.

"He didn't seem to change a bit." She thought as she prepared an excuse to leave.

"Elio, I think it's time for me to go."

"Oh, you're already about to leave? Why so soon?" he smiled and talked at the same time, looking like a maniac planning. Which he indeed was.

"I have to really take care of my son, excuse me." she grasped her bag hard, trying to hold back the tears as she watched the same smile Elio wore when they dated fade. She left sniffling and wishing that her spouse, James Potter, to be on her side. But he was protecting their 2-month-old son from the dangers ahead.

"Son?" Elio realized that his first love has had a family with another guy. He gave out a psychotic laugh and cried his heart out. People around stared as the adult threw a child-like tantrum.

Lily heard this from far away, but she learned to never look back.

While crying, Elio thought of something. He then chased Lily and decided that it was time for his plan.

He cornered her in a dark alleyway between shops. He covered Lily's mouth with his hand and chanted a spell to stop her from making any noise. He then snatched her wand, tied her feet, and tied her arms behind her with rope from his wand.

"I have wanted to do this ever since I heard rumors of you and that Potter guy's marriage. Now you and he have a child! I can't stand it, Lily. I thought you loved me!" He stopped and scanned around the environment. "Bystanders will notice all my shouting."

"How about we talk at my humble flat here in London. How does that sound?" Elio wrapped his arms around his sweet childhood sweetheart. Lily tried to scream in hopes that someone or anyone would help her. No sound came out of her mouth as she shed tears silently. She fought her best against the stronger, more muscular man armed with a wand she wished she had.

After not long, they apparated together to his flat. To no surprise at all, his place was eerily clean, and the walls painted white. It pretty much looked like a well-furnished white torture room.

"Sit, my love." Elio dragged Lily, holding her arm with his nails sink into her skin. He locked all the doors to keep Lily in his living room as he'll get some water.

When he left, Lily tried to remove her arms and legs from the rope, but she had no luck. She tried to wriggle her limbs out and cut the ropes using sharp objects around. Alas, none of her tactics worked.

Elio returned, seeing Lily with her face wet with tears.

"Oh, love. Don't cry. I'm here. Drink some water." He wore his demented grin again. He was talking to her like nothing happened between them. It was like they were dating again.

She shook her head and bit her lip, making her facial expressions more emotional and angry.

"Wouldn't hydrate, ey? Not drinking water and keeping hydrated is bad for you, baby."

He raised her chin and looked at her face with awe. Lily tried to bite his finger off, but he pulled it away immediately.

"Ah, a little feistier than I remembered." Elio came closer to her lips as he prepared to kiss her. She gave him a painful headbutt, giving both a throbbing headache.

"Ok, Lily. I have had enough. We will come to my room and have some fun playing, won't we?" He sprung to his feet while rubbing his head to relieve the ache. His voice and face were a mix of angriness and excitement.

Knowing what he means, she got to her knees and attempted to talk, "Why, Elio. Please, I have done nothing but be nice to you."

He stopped from pulling her into the bedroom. He sat to her level to meet her eyes.

"That's the point. You did nothing to make me happy." Elio continued to pull her. The chains he used to attach Lily to the bed were ready. The whole room was filled with candles and rose petals, all ready for their steamy night.

"Don't resist me, my Lily! I deserve your love. I need your love." He clenched his teeth, making his words sound hard and scary.

It was the last thing she heard before all of her trauma.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

The morning sun arose. Elio prepared eggs and toast for breakfast without releasing Lily.

"Your bed in breakfast is here, love!" He places the small table on her lap. Elio was covered in bruises which he calls hickeys. The sleeping Lily was the most bruised, not just physically.

Elio obliviated her, confident that he replaced all of her memories with false memories of both of them together, being a happy and normal couple. He didn't know that he messed up.

"If you ever tell anyone about all this, I will kill you and your whole family."

He was removing her chains and undoing the silencing spell when he heard a knock on the door. Aurors arrived at his house for the interview he needed for an article. It was scheduled for 8 pm, but they misunderstood it for 8 am.

While Elio was away attending the Aurors, Lily woke up remembering everything except Elio's face and identity. She did, in fact, hear the mysterious man's threat involving her family. Lily wanted to get out immediately. She found all her stuff and clothes in the room. Luckily with the help of magic, she left out of the window and gently fell to the ground without scraping her already damaged body.

Elio returned to the room after chatting with his guests. He found no one there. He thinks this was mind-boggling and impossible. He prepared all this thoroughly, and he saw no one to blame but himself. The thought of it made him ask his guests to leave his home and throw things around the house.

Lily healed her scars that left unnoticeable traces at first glance and then apparated back to her home. She told the worried Order of the Phoenix members and her panicked husband that she went to her muggle friend's house that had no telephone. She also assured them that she was unable to contact anyone since it was an emergency.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

"James, I'm pregnant."

Her husband celebrated while carrying and dancing with baby Harry in his hands. While he was happy, Lily worried if it was actually her husband's baby she's bearing.

The whole Order of the Phoenix knew. Others say to be careful of this new baby because they know that the he who must not be named is coming for their first child.

While doing an interview at the Leaky Cauldron, Elio looked terrible. Dark circles under his eyes, and he reeked the smell of alcohol. The good-looking young man was nowhere to be found. He worked day and night, punishing himself for losing "his whole world."

He was a workaholic without any motivation for any other things, even the news of Lily's second child he overheard from a random person at the bar.

"I deserve this miserable life. I don't deserve happiness, and most importantly, Lily." he thought after wrapping up the interview and ordering alcohol.

⌇⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⁃⌇⁃⌇⌇⌇

After a long day of work, Elio didn't stop find stories for work. His workaholic ass made him travel far. He reached West England just for the story about the undiscovered magical creatures around the area.

While searching around a village called Godric's Hollow, he heard a familiar scream. In a house, he saw a silhouette of a woman fall to the floor through a window. Elio wanted to see what happened, but he didn't want to be a suspect. So he covered any trace of him like wearing removing his shoes, wore gloves, and summoned a hairnet. It looked ridiculous but at least he won't be seen by the Aurors as a suspect.

He rushed inside to see James Potter, lifeless. He then realized. Lily must be the woman. He hurried up the stairs thinking about multiple things. "What happened? Will I report this? Who did this? This might make a good story. Is her child dead too? Is Lily dead?"

The first thing Elio saw was a swaddled, blonde infant cooing. Despite the cries of the toddler and her inert mother, she remained calm and silent. The sight of the infant made Elio's heart warm. She looked a lot like him.

His sharp and quick mind made it seem that this little bundle of light that reflected his past beautiful self's features is his own child. The thought pushed his panic buttons. He told himself, "I have made enough mistakes. I let Lily down and abandoned her. I will fix all of them."

Elio left the house with the child, and still, she didn't cry.

He did everything he can for his child. He quitted his job, changed his identity, and started a new life just for his child. He met a woman and he planned to obliviate her into thinking they have a family, and the girl is their child.

Without knowing it, Elio's wand was broken when he chanted the spell. He forgot all his memories that involved Lily, which was a lucky coincidence. The bad things he did to her? Kidnapping Lily's child? All forgotten.

He also forgot his act of acting to be nice and friendly to his "family." Elio's personality changed to match the kind of person he pretended to be.

He's successfully released a magazine of his own. He raised his girl to be better than his old self, even after his spouse died when their daughter was nine. The smart, little Ravenclaw girl loved everyone better than the person she reflected. And after all the bad things Gebber has done before, he helped some hero complete his mission.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

This was the life of Xenophilius Lovegood.

[yeoldontknow]

Do you think that once i succeed at being able to budget correctly that I'll level up as an adult? (Oh and I'm rooting for you, future Doctor Kat ❤️❤️)

hey anon <3 tbh thats a really hard question to answer and theres actually a hell of a lot to unpack there. firstly theres the question of what it means to be an adult, and secondly theres a question of what are you hoping to achieve with your finances? i say that primarily because theres a generational gap in the notion of budgeting vs what the working class is actually being paid. being told to budget and plan correctly while were in the middle of late stage capitalism sometimes wont necessarily cut it. and being told to budget responsibly is often times the older generations response to 'pick yourself up by your boot straps and work' etc which doesnt take into account race, class, economics, or even the location where you live/work.

beyond that, the concept of being an adult or "adulting" is really heavy handed. im in my 30s and i still dont really know what im doing as an adult. i feel like if you have money to pay your rent, feed yourself, manage your bills, and possibly keep a pet or a car or even have a little to engage socially with friends/in your hobbies - youre doing just fine. and let me tell you, money struggles follow. its actually normal and more pervasive in this day and age for people at the age of 30 to have credit card debt, enormous student loan debt, or other forms of debt because, again, the cost of living has increased immensely without any raise to wages. i know this is probably a long answer for what you might expect to be a simple questions, but the notion of budgeting or being good at budgeting should NOT have any moral weight to your notion of being an adult. because honestly, being adult is insanely complex and difficult and varies from person to person.

as a general answer, yeah, budgeting is extremely important. please dont overspend or put yourself in reckless situations irresponsibly. but i dont think that makes you more or less of an adult, and i dont think there should be any moral attachment to how you manage your money. ive been through a lot in my life, and the people i view as actual adults are the people who are resourceful, wise, and self-aware. if youre concerned about leveling up, consider looking into bad habits (in this case, i imagine spending habits?), unhealthy attachments, and your boundaries. true maturity and adulthood comes from life lessons, and not all of them deal with money.

[keevansixx]

Tumblr+ is a bad idea, but i understand why they are pushing for it?

Ok, how many of us have lived through the purges, watched as they nuked from low orbit all the artistic smexiness in a bout of puritanical fervor, while leaving the bots and blatant unfettered to rampage across this lovely hellsite free range and unchecked? Doing nothing while the shitiness of humanity is allowed to harass and threaten people for posting their hot takes (regardless of whether they are right or wrong)?

yeah, some of us have watched all that has transpired.

This is nothing new....

When you view past the staff statements, all the carefully crafted wording and corporate speak, all that remains is greed, pure and simple....

for some of us, this is a safe haven, a refuge from the rest of the clusterfeck that is known as social media. where individuals can post their innermost thoughts, creative ideas, and feelings to the ether. If the stars are aligned in their favor, while the word gods shine favorably upon thee, and the image deities smile in dank approval, we find other like minded souls piloting their own ships within this digital night that meet briefly to share a like, comment. or reblog before moving on to other horizons. In it’s simplicity, tumblr is almost the last bastion of creative thought left in the entirety of the world wide web. 

for others, tumblr is just yet another extension of their social media psyche, dragging all their real world baggage into it’s pages, hoping that someone out there may offer a solution to their own personal problems (or at least stroke their egos or biases to orgasmic bit) . Activists abound, and are shouting from the digital rooftops “look at me! See! See the violence inherit in the system, help help, i’m being oppressed!”” While the darkest ugliness in certain parts of humanity responds with vile poison and vitriol to ideas that do not agree or align with their own...committing the oldest of digital sins, in the newest of ways. Sad....but i digress.

Tumblr, to it’s corporate and wall-street taskmasters, is not greatly profitable in it’s current form. Sure, they get a little bit of money here and there from all the boring unremovable ads sprinkled throughout everyone’s feeds...but that’s just it. ad money keeps the lights on and the hamster wheels turning in the server rooms, and maybe a pot of coffee or box of stale doughnuts in the break room to keep the hamsters happy, but in the end it’s just enough to keep the site barely alive, while ensuring the devils get their deep pockets full of due.

The question everyone is asking themselves, but don’t know it yet, is...

To just Whom does tumblr+ benefit the most? 

It’s certainly not for the fan-fic artists who create art based on someone else’s works. certainly not for the shit-posters who reblog all the weirdly wonderfully funny and bizarre things the world web has to offer. certainly not for the fanfic writers, who craft the continuing stories of their favorite properties they do not own. definitely not for average joe or jane blogger who basically repost everything that crosses their feeds because they enjoy that stuff immensely, and want to share it all with everyone who follows them. Certainly not for I, who basically just comes here to post fictional stories from pregenerated prompts, whatever pops into my head, and a few reblogs from things that catch my fancy.

So who does that leave? In the Immortal words of Sherlock Holmes, written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, ”When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

For a few original tumblr artists, this may be a boon (but i doubt it). why would you settle for a middleman to get paid for your original art, when you could sell to a direct market off site for prints/merch straight to the customer and making bank? Seems counterintuitive to me to allow a site to step in to earn money off your hard work and creativity. Plus a paywall cuts you off from potential customers who may be interested in your works, but will not pay tumblr just to view your works....kinda shooting yourself in the foot going plus.

Tumblr+ is being built for all the clout chasers that think they will benefit from a blue plus mark (just like on twitter and instagram, go figure) banking on human vanity and obsessive compulsive disorder to bring in the money. (that’s right! buy that blue + mark ya little cash monkeys...spend, spend for that social credit! muahahahaha!)

The other reason is Porn. (don’t laugh...the internet you enjoy today was built on the metaphorical backs of the porn industry. every internet innovation enjoyed in the past 35 years was created, tested, and tried first somewhere to deliver, watch, and enjoy porn. sure it got started on university campuses, but the porn industry made it take off like a rocket to push product) Tumblr can’t beat it...they have consistently shown they are incapable of removing all the raunchy naughty bits from this site. If you can’t beat them, join them. Put all the adult content behind a paywall, set the price, and watch the money roll in as humans just can’t resist watching a good fluff n’ tickle. Set the booby algorithm phasers to “paywall”!  Wanna see that statue of Venus de Milo, or the statue of David? gonna have to pay that monthly fee to see. “Oh, but you’re just an artist drawing artistic nudes as a hobby? too bad! behind the paywall you go too. We want our cut of the share regardless how you may feel about it.” 

basically Tumblr is trying to change the clientele....facts. They hope to draw in the same demographics that make sites like reddit, twitter, instagram, and others profitable to the corporation, at the expense of the long term users that made this site the unique thing it is today. 

but hey, what do i know, i’m just a messed up monkey with an opinion, take it all with a huge grain of salt and live your best life possible....but the cards are not in tumblr+’s favor. 

Everyone has got an opinion on this, that’s all well and good. If you agree/disagree that’s fine too....just remember to be kind in all things, show the wisdom and grace of the best of humanity, take a deep breath before responding, and reply with the best of yourself as you can muster...after all, you’re only human....Ook ook. 

[emilou-keen-gear]

Darkwing OC Month Day 13: OC Meets Drake Mallard Pt 1

DWD 91 version:

Excerpt from my fanfic, “Blue Waltz.” It can be found here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33208030/chapters/82449124

The context here is that Gosalyn has set Drake up on a blind date. She says the woman is Binky Muddlefoot’s cousin, but she’s really from a dating service. Meanwhile, Charity Loveatte is a social worker investigating a claim of neglect in the Mallard household. Unable to get ahold of them by phone, she stops by for a visit.

Then the doorbell rang.

           “That’s her,” Gosalyn called out, wiggling from the embrace. She rushed to the end table near the front door and grabbed a bouquet of flowers she had gathered from a number of neighbor’s yards and tied with a ribbon.

           “She’s a bit early,” Drake said, looking at the clock.

           “Answer the door and give her these, Dad,” Gosalyn said, pushing Drake forward.

           Drake shot her a wry smile before taking a deep breath. How long had it been since he went on a first day? He realized that he felt a little nervous, his palms a little sweaty. Was he this nervous when he finally asked Morgana on a date?

           He opened the door, trying hard not to frown as the woman on his doorstep was nothing like what he expected.

           “Is this the residence of Drake Mallard?” The woman was a black-masked, blue lovebird with her hair tied back in a tight bun. She was looking through a pair of glasses at a paper on a clipboard. She wore a simple, light pink blouse and black slacks.

           “Uh, yes. Come on in,” Drake said, fixing a smile on his beak. She may not be what he expected, but she was pretty in a librarian kind of way. By her clothes and demeanor, she seemed the stern, stiff type.

           The lovebird looked surprised to be asked in and did so tentatively.

           Drake turned around and hissed at his daughter. “Binky’s cousin?”

           “A very distant cousin?” Gosalyn said with a shrug.

           “Hi, my name is Charity Loveatte,” the lovebird introduced herself and held out her hand. As Drake shook it, she said, “I’ve been trying to contact you, but was only able to talk to your daughter.” The woman’s eyes found Gosalyn behind Drake and she smiled warmly.

           “Oh, yes. She told me all about it. I think she’s more excited about you being here than I am,” Drake said, laughing a little.

           Charity blinked, looking confused. “Really?” She took off her glasses and put them in her bag. “I’m a little surprised. For a while, I thought something strange was going on since I could only get ahold of your daughter.” Again, she looked at Gosalyn. “I’m very glad to finally meet you.”

           As the lovebird shook hands with the duckling and asked a few polite questions, Drake’s opinion of his blind date rose. A lot of adults often overlooked or ignored children, and in the past, Drake had stopped dating a few girls for this reason. Not to mention, now that she had those large glasses off, he could see her warm, brown eyes better.

           “Dad, the flowers,” Gosalyn hissed, elbowing him in the side.

           “Oh, right. These are for you,” he said, handing out the bouquet.

           Charity gave them a dubious look. “I’m afraid I can’t accept them. My job doesn’t allow it.”

           Drake looked down at the flowers, feeling as if they were wilting from being rejected. What kind of job doesn’t allow a woman to accept flowers? “Well, then how about we sit down and talk for a while.” He gestured into the living room.

           Charity smiled. “That sounds like a wonderful idea,” she said, taking the lead. Just as she was about to sit in one of the arm chairs that was part of the secret passage way to Darkwing’s lair, Drake dashed in front of her.

           “Why not sit on the couch? It’s far more comfortable,” he said with a disarming grin.

           Frowning uneasily, Charity did as requested, taking the middle cushion. When Drake sat right next to her, she scooted away as politely as she could. “You have a lovely home,” Charity said conversationally although her tone sounded a bit nervous.

           “Thank you,” Drake said.

           Launchpad then entered the room, guided by Gosalyn pushing him from behind. In his suit and combed down hair, he looked quite dapper. A white towel was draped over one of his arms. “May I get the lady something to drink?”

           Charity looked flummoxed by the offer. “Uh…some water would be fine.”

           “The same,” Drake told his friend, and Launchpad exited the room.

           “You have a butler?” Charity asked.

           Drake laughed nervously, wishing he had that water right then to drink. “Actually, he’s my best friend. I think my daughter put him up to it.”

           Charity blinked rapidly as if trying to process the information before fiddling with her clipboard. “Gosalyn seems to be such an interesting little girl. I’m afraid that I don’t know the details of her adoption.”

           “Oh, you don’t want to talk about me,” Gosalyn said from her place just outside of the living room. “In fact, why don’t I leave you two alone and go…clean my room.” She made to move toward the stairs when Charity called out.

           “Wait, I’d actually would like to talk to you a little more, Gosalyn.”

           “You would?”

           Charity smiled. “Yes. After our phone call, I’d like to get to know you a little better. How is school going for you? Do you like it?”

           “It’s okay,” Gosalyn said, scuffing her shoe against the carpet.

           “Are you doing well in you classes? What are you learning?” Charity’s voice was kind but didn’t raise her pitch like some adults do when talking to children. It was almost as if she were talking to another adult, to an equal.

           Gosalyn approached, sitting on the coffee table. “It’s alright. I didn’t like my teacher at first, but she’s not so bad. Oh, and I can’t wait to try out for the hockey team. It’s coming up really soon.”

           “Gosalyn’s a great hockey player,” Drake said, and he rubbed the back of his head as if counting the bumps to prove the force of her shot. “This is the first year she’s old enough to join a team.”

           “That’s great,” Charity said. “With that red hair, I bet you’re a spit fire on the ice.”

           “Keen gear, I am,” Gosalyn said before realizing that—while she was enjoying the attention—the point of this date wasn’t for her to show off. “But as awesome as I am, I’m not as rad as my dad. He’s the absolute coolest, right dad?”

           “Oh…uh…I don’t know about…rad, but I…I’m a…” And that’s when Drake realized he had nothing to say. Everything about his life was so intertwined in his alter ego. No social life. Whatever interests and hobbies he had were forgotten for this conversation’s sake. His mind was blank.

           Gosalyn was giving him a look as if to say, “Way to go, Dad. Don’t embarrass me.”

           “Why don’t you tell me about your job,” Charity suggested. “What is it exactly that you do?”

           “Well I…I kind of…It’s kind of like…” Drake floundered, trying to pick a lie that was not only believable, but one he could answer any follow up questions.

           “He’s a security guard,” Gosalyn easily supplied. “He works nights.”

           Drake jumped in, thankful for his daughter’s quick thinking although he’ll have to talk about her lying after this date was over. “Yeah, a security guard. My mind just went blank for a moment.” He grinned abashedly.

           “Really? Then that means you’re home during the day?” Charity clarified.

           “Uh…yeah,” Drake said, although he thought it was an odd thing to say.

           “And who takes care of Gosalyn while you’re at work?” Charity asked, her expression expectant.

           “Well…she’s pretty capable of taking care of herself,” Drake said while rubbing Gosalyn’s head.

           “So you leave her alone all night?” Charity asked with a frown.

           “Yes…I mean, no,” Drake changed his answer. “What I mean is the Muddlefoots are right next door. Gos is over there enough, and if she needs help, she usually knows how to contact me.” At this last bit, he gave his daughter a knowing look.

           “Hmmmm,” Charity hummed, not looking pleased. “Which company do you work for?”

           Okay, this was sounding more like an interrogation rather than a date. But then again, the lady seemed a little odd from the start. Perhaps she just didn’t have the greatest communication skills. At least she was trying.

           Before Drake could come up with a lie, Gosalyn broke in for another save.

           “You should eat dinner before the food gets cold,” Gosalyn suggested.

           “That sounds like a great idea,” Drake said, jumping to his feet.

           Charity was on her feet, putting away her clipboard and papers. “I apologize. I came when you were about to eat. Perhaps I could schedule another time to talk to you,” Charity said.

           Leave it to Binky Muddlefoot to have this strange of a cousin.

           “You’re not going to eat with us?” Gosalyn asked. She was frowning more out of the fact that her effort of getting Binky to cook and cleaning up the house would be for nothing, which is exactly where this date seemed to be going.

           “I don’t think that it would be appropriate for me to join you,” Charity said to Gosalyn.

           “It wouldn’t?” Drake asked, confused.

           Charity also looked confused. “Well, I think so. I don’t know. In all my experience, I’ve never been invited to eat dinner.”

           No wonder she’s been acting weird, Drake thought. It sounds as if she’s only been on bad dates.

           “How about we continue talking in the dining room where we happen to have food,” Drake offered with a smile. “So you can decide there whether or not you want to eat.

           Charity’s gave him a warm smile and followed him through the house, pausing to look at the photos hung on the wall. With a gentle touch, Charity rubbed away a smudge on one of the photos. “Perhaps this was a mistake,” she said softly to herself. When she looked down, Gosalyn was looking at the photos as well. “It looks like you have a loving home,” the lovebird said to the duckling.

           “Yep, the best,” Gosalyn said with a nod.

           Drake was waiting for them in the dining room, standing next to a chair, which he pulled out for Charity. When she sat down, he pushed it in for her. Not long after they both sat down, Launchpad came in with fancy water glasses, ice and a slice of lemon floating in the liquid.

           “Are you sure I can’t get you something else to drink?” Launchpad asked. “I make a mean Manhattan.”

           Charity gave him a wary look before saying politely, “No, thank you though. Water is fine.”

           “Same for me,” Drake said, taking a sip of his water. He knew just how mean of a Manhattan Launchpad could mix up, but that would have to wait. He didn’t want to imbibe while his date was abstaining, not to mention, he would be heading to work later that night.

           Gosalyn came in, having disappeared into the kitchen earlier, and returned with plates filled with fruit salad, pork roast, vegetables and a slice of garlic bread. “Bon appetite,” she said in a terrible French accent.

           “Uh, aren’t you going to eat with us?” Charity asked as Gosalyn headed to the kitchen.

           “I’ll just leave the two of you alone,” Gosalyn said with a smile. “I’ll eat later after the adults have eaten.”

           “Do you always eat after your father?” Charity asked, eyeing the flames dancing at the end of the candles.

           “Only when he has company over,” Gosalyn said, rushing away.

           Drake laughed nervously. “She’s kidding. We eat as a family all the time. She, I and Launchpad.” He shoved a forkful of fruit in his mouth.

           “Oh, I thought you said Launchpad is your best friend. Is he related to you? Or to Gosalyn?” Charity asked.

           “Naw, he’s my roommate,” Drake said once he swallowed.

           Charity raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a roommate.” She frowned.

           Drake felt the familiar feeling that there was something about the conversation that he was missing. “I’m sorry? I should have mentioned it earlier? Is there something wrong?” He was getting a little tired of being polite to this woman. He didn’t want to lose his temper, but some of the things she was saying bordered on rude.

           “Well, usually this would make things more complicated, especially with your situation, that is, unless Launchpad is your ‘partner’.”

           “Partner?” Drake repeated, uncertain what she meant. Yes, Launchpad was his partner, but the only way she would know that is if she knew he was Darkwing Duck. He felt tense, but the woman’s words didn’t match up with that fact.

           “If that’s the case, then I can overlook it. Do Gosalyn and Launchpad get along?”

           Drake’s head spun. This conversation was bouncing around too much for him. What kind of date did Gosalyn get him into?

           “Launchpad is practically part of the family,” Drake replied. “In fact, they have more in common with each other than with me.”

           Charity’s face brightened. “That’s wonderful to hear.” For the first time, she picked up her fork and stabbed a carrot. She had done this almost unconsciously, but as she chewed, her face changed to bliss. “Oh!” She put a hand over her mouth, talking around the mouthful. “This is really good. Did you make this?”

           “No, Mrs. Muddle—I mean Binky—did. Have you not had her cooking before?” Drake asked.

           Charity shook her head. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had a home-cooked meal. Usually I end up working late and ordering take-out or microwaving a meal.” She quickly ate several more bites, savoring each forkful.

           This sounded more like a date. With a chance to learn about this puzzling woman, Drake asked, “What is it you do? Your job?”

           Charity’s eyes locked on him then darted around as if there were others in the room. “I thought that was obvious.”

           Drake felt like he had just asked a stupid question. Rather than press, he acted sheepish to save face. “Right. Yes. Silly me.”

           “Mr. Mallard, I will be—“

           “Call me Drake,” he interrupted.

           “Uh, I’m not certain that in light of the circumstances that I can be that formal,” Charity said.

           Drake laughed. So it was back to the Twilight Zone. The weirdness of this date was comparable to several he had with Morgana. “Under what circumstances would it be appropriate to use my first name? We’re not exactly in a Jane Austin novel.”

           Charity’s face twisted. “Oh, please. Do not mention those books. I just finished reading Pride and Prejudice, and I just don’t see the point of it.”

           “What? It’s a classic,” Drake defended.

           “I’ll admit, Sense and Sensibility wasn’t half bad, but don’t pull that ‘It’s a classic’ bit on Mansfield Park. That story just went on and on and on,” Charity complained with a shake of her head. “There was just so much gossiping and back-biting, and the characters were so infuriating.”

           “You obviously missed the point,” Drake said, feeling more in his element. He always prided himself as being well-read, and although he had his favorites,  he had made it a point to brush up on as many classics as he could while he was in high school and college. Surprisingly, he had enjoyed some of Jane Austin’s novels. “Her novels were to show the irony of the time period and social classes of the Regency era. And while the stuffy gossip and snobbery was realistic, it was also intended to be a satire to critique the British land gentry.”

           Charity’s eyes widened in astonishment. “Mr. Mallard, you aren’t what I expected.”

           “Neither are you, Ms. Loveatte,” Drake said, addressing her similarly. “I never thought I would find a woman who disliked Jane Austen.” Drake tilted his head.

           “And I never thought I’d find a man who defended her.” Charity smirked. Even though her plate was only half emptied, she pushed it away. “It seems I came here with ill-conceived ideas, and it is refreshing to find that my instincts were wrong.”

           Just when he was enjoying himself with some playful banter, it was ruined with more riddles. Ill-conceived? Her instincts were wrong? Just what kind of dates had she gone through in the past to become this jaded?

           “I have a few more questions and concerns to be addressed, but I think we can put this whole thing to bed tonight,” Charity said, clasping her hands.

           “We can? Wait! Bed?! Aren’t you moving a little too fast?” Drake asked, his voice cracking.

           “I would have thought you’d want this over with as quickly as possible,” Charity said, riffling through her purse.

           “Well, I’ll admit that I wasn’t the most thrilled about it, but I didn’t think the night was going that badly.” Drake found himself ranting as his flustered thoughts attempted to align back to the logical path.

           “I’d like to have the name, number and address of your place of employment. I’ll also need some details about your background for my records.”

           “Huh?”

           “Oh, and who Gosalyn’s pediatrician is. I’ll need access to her medical recent medical records. You understand, right?”

           “Wait a minute!” Drake shouted, standing up. “Now I’m really lost. I get that the point of this is to get to know each other, but I think this is going a little too far. You seem like a nice girl, but I don’t think this is going to work out.”

           Charity stood as well, her eyes fierce. “Mr. Mallard, I’m not sure if you’re taking the situation seriously enough. As I explained in my message that I received a call that was wholly disconcerting at the least. While I understand that you may feel like I am infringing on your privacy, but I would think you would be willing to do what it takes for your daughter.”

           “Disconcerting? Are you saying—What are you saying?” Drake wanted to pull out his feathers. He had had conversations with Quackerjack that made more sense than this. “What does any of this have to do with Gosalyn?”

           It was Charity’s turn to look taken aback. “Mr. Mallard, why do you think I’m here? I’m checking up on Gosalyn’s welfare.”

           At that moment, the doorbell rang.

           “I’ll get it,” Gosalyn shouted, racing from the kitchen to the front room.

           “Her welfare?” Drake repeated. “What does our date have to do with Gosalyn’s welfare?”

           “Date?” Charity asked, her upper lip twisting upward.

           “Uh-oh,” Gosalyn’s voice said from the other room. “Uh…Dad, there’s been a small mistake…about your date.”

           “Oh, dear,” Charity said, lowering her head as she caught on the quickest.

           Gosalyn entered the kitchen with a hangdog look, followed by a long-legged, female duck in a low-necked blouse and a pencil skirt. As she walked, her hooped earrings and feathery, blonde hair bounced as well as other parts of her anatomy. “Hey, I thought you said he wasn’t married. Or is this someone else from the agency? Kind of bold scheduling two dates in one night.”

           “Oh, dear,” Charity said again, hand over her beak. “I’m afraid there’s been a big misunderstanding. I assumed you knew who I was when you invited me in, but I was mistaken. Mr. Mallard, I’m from the Department of Children and Family.”

           Drake paled.

           “Oh, you’re the lady that kept calling,” Gosalyn said, looking disappointed. “What kind of scam are you running, coming to our house? How did you know where we lived?”

           Drake walked around the table and stood behind his daughter. “Gosalyn, she’s not running a scam. She’s a social worker,” he said.

           Gosalyn gasped, her eyes widening. At the orphanage, she hadn’t had much contact with social workers. In her grandfather’s will, he had clear instructions that Gosalyn wasn’t to be put in a foster home but rather taken care of in an orphanage until a family could adopt her. A few of the children in the orphanage had told her about social workers and a few horror stories about being passed around from one foster home to another. Not once, had she connected the title of “Department of Children and Family” to social workers.

           She had messed up big time.

           “It appears that my presence has been misconstrued and therefore, I’ll make a hasty exit,” Charity said, her head bowed contritely. She pulled out a business care from her purse. “Please call my office on Monday, and we can schedule a time to talk about your daughter. Again, I’m very sorry for the misunderstanding.”

           “Thank you,” Drake said absently and took the card, dazed, barely aware as the lovebird retreated out of his house. He was reviewing the previous conversation in his head, picking up the subtle hints that something was very wrong with his “date,” and not because she was strange.

           It wasn’t until later that he wished he had asked the social worker to stay and answer his questions, but it was too late.

           “What was that all about?” the female duck asked, pointing a thumb behind her.

           “I’m sorry. What is your name?” Drake asked, shaking off his bewilderment.

           “Cammie Diver.”

           “Cammie, look, you’re probably a sweet girl, but I’m afraid we’re having a little family crisis right now,” Drake said. “Can I call you a cab or something?”

           “I brought my own car,” Cammie said, looking irate.

           “Again, I’m sorry for the trouble,” Drake said, pushing the woman gently toward the door. “If you want, we can reschedule. You have my number.”

           As Cammie was shown the door, she muttered, “I don’t care what my mother says. I’m going to find my dates at bars from now on.”

           As soon as the door shut, Drake turned sharply to his daughter, hands on his hips. “Gosalyn!”

      ��    “Oh, look at the time, Dad.” She yawned. “I think it’s time for me to god to bed.”

           “Wait a minute there, missy. I think I deserve an explanation. Especially why I didn’t get any messages from a social worker and why Binky’s ‘cousin’ came from an agency.”

           Gosalyn sighed. “You might want to sit down. This is going to be a long story,” she told him.

           Launchpad walked in, carrying a plate heaped with food. “Hey, what’s going on? Did your date leave or something?” He took a bite and continued talking through the mouthful. “I don’t know about you, but I liked her. Are you going on a second date?”