#OPIN Jobs

[captainjonnitkessler]

I truly, TRULY do not know how to say this, because the fact that I have to say it makes me feel like I am losing my grip on reality. But no, in the post-capitalistic anarchist utopia, I will not be relying on “autistic minecraft girlies” to be building inspectors because - and this may shock you - one of those occupations takes years of education in how to read and interpret hundreds of thousands of lines of regulations based on complicated math and physics that were the result of decades of tragedy and death, and the other one involves playing a children’s video game.

[job-alerts]

Unleashing Opportunities: Navigating Government Job Applications with OPIN Jobs

In today's dynamic job market, government jobs have emerged as a stable and rewarding career option for many individuals. With the promise of job security, competitive salaries, and diverse career paths, the public sector has become an attractive choice for job seekers from various backgrounds. However, finding and applying for government jobs can be a daunting task, considering the extensive selection processes and numerous agencies involved. Fortunately, OPIN Jobs is here to revolutionize the way you approach government job applications, making the process seamless and accessible.

Why Government Jobs Matter:

Government jobs have always held a special place in the employment landscape, offering stability and an opportunity to contribute positively to society. From administrative roles to specialized technical positions, the government sector caters to a wide range of skill sets and qualifications. Moreover, public sector jobs often come with excellent benefits, such as healthcare, retirement plans, and paid leave, making them highly coveted by job seekers seeking long-term security.

The Challenge of Government Job Applications:

While the allure of government jobs is undeniable, navigating the application process can be complex. Each government agency may have its own set of requirements and procedures, creating a time-consuming and overwhelming experience for applicants. Keeping track of the latest vacancies across multiple platforms can be a real challenge, leading to missed opportunities and frustration.

Introducing OPIN Jobs:

OPIN Jobs steps in as a game-changer, simplifying the process of discovering and applying for government jobs. This innovative online platform serves as a centralized hub for government job postings, ensuring that you stay updated with the latest opportunities. Whether you're looking for entry-level positions or seeking career growth within the public sector, OPIN Jobs has you covered.

Key Features of OPIN Jobs:

Real-time Vacancy Updates: OPIN Jobs ensures that you're always in the loop with the most recent government job postings. Say goodbye to manually scouring multiple websites – OPIN Jobs aggregates the latest vacancies in one place.

User-Friendly Interface: The platform's intuitive design allows you to effortlessly browse through job categories, filter results based on your preferences, and apply directly online.

Customized Job Alerts: Never miss a job opportunity again! OPIN Jobs lets you set up personalized job alerts based on your preferred criteria, ensuring that you receive timely notifications for relevant positions.

Simplified Application Process: Gone are the days of cumbersome paper applications. With OPIN Jobs, you can apply for Government jobs with just a few clicks. Create an account, upload your resume, and submit applications seamlessly.

Resourceful Application Guides: OPIN Jobs provides valuable insights into the application process, eligibility requirements, and tips for acing government job interviews. Gain a competitive edge with the platform's comprehensive resources.

Conclusion:

Embarking on a career in the government sector can be a transformative journey, and OPIN Jobs acts as your trusted ally throughout the process. Embrace the opportunities that the public sector has to offer, and let OPIN Jobs streamline your job search. Whether you're a fresh graduate or a seasoned professional seeking new challenges, OPIN Jobs empowers you to unlock your potential and embark on a fulfilling career in the public service.

Start your journey with OPIN Jobs today and open the door to a world of government job possibilities!

[martianbugsbunny]

"I'm not with Gravik cause I'm with you" vs whatever the heck Priscilla's doing

[erotetica]

‘the old guard’ is the name of a lil queer opera company tho.

They do Shakespeare in the park-type stuff. Nicky is a basso profondo & baritone Yusuf is marked down as annoyed and horny. The Plot is that Andy is a dramatic contralto & she takes the male/butch leads in drag, opposite quynh’s soprano (iirc contralto is the deepest register for women on a scale similar to the male tenor. whom also iirc usually get leading-man roles. Anyway it’s SUPER fascinating 2 me 2 swap them.) When quynh leaves, booker, a high tenor, does her bits in drag. There’s not as much vocal contrast between Booker and Andy tho, so after some faffing he goes back to his usual, supporting female roles, & enter Nile as prima donna soprano. Coolgirl career prima donna at Big Opera Houses, joining the guard to do queer shit. I think she’s a coloratura/whereas quynh was more of a Wagnerian soprano, & she fills the void quynh left with her own, brighter vocal style (themes & metaphors etc)

[starlit-mansion]

As difficult as it can be, if you haven't tied your livelihood or personal brand to a franchise in some way, i think it's best to cultivate a willingness to disengage from installments of an ongoing property that disappoint and upset you.

it's hard. ime, it's more energizing to hate on something that makes a mockery of your beloved. but like. idk to me, it feels like holding onto a cursed sword. it's more effective. but more draining. it disincentives putting it down the more you use it.

it's hard to tell with mixed installments where you like some parts and hate others, and god knows there's like a million memes about how good stuff gets a 'nice' before moving on and mediocre stuff that didnt live up to its promise inspires the most passionate fanbases in the world. but staying in a fandom while actively hating the current material is a terrible space for me and makes me feel worse about the time i spent on it and my own inability to let go and accept the end. if i'm at the point where i can only enjoy fanworks and not the thing itself, then i brought her back wrong and she was better dead.

ymmv tho.

[sugargliderowl]

hi owl :D

how have ya been??

HI ALI I’m alive and good!! Casually procrastinating on memorizing things for 3 exams this week (hehe).

But I’m in the middle of college! I’m learning about things I actually wanted to know about, and it’s pretty cool being here and doing things.

[fayes-fics]

Breathe (In The Air)

Pariring: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, 1970s AU

Summary: A night camping out under the stars

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, recreational drug use (cannabis), body hair used in foreplay, vaginal fingering, blow job, woman on top, unprotected vaginal sex.

Word Count: 2.6k

Authors Note: Request fill for Anon (HERE) asking for a sequel to 1970s hippie Benedict, travelling around in his VW bus selling his artwork at music festivals. Sorry for the gif; there was nothing else that remotely fit. The original story is HERE. The title is a Pink Floyd song. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for the beta. I hope you enjoy Nonny. I do enjoy this AU ngl. <3

“What do you want from life?” 

You loll your head to the side to observe his handsome profile as he stares towards the dome of vibrant stars above.

“I have no idea,” you confess, turning to look skywards again, moonlight glowing through the swirl of smoke you exhale, your fingers toying with the tassels of the soft cotton blanket you both lay upon.

“I want adventure…” he declares, rubbing a hand over his bare midriff absentmindedly.

“Hmmm, that sounds wonderful,” you admit, handing him back the joint, that languid feeling enrobing your mind as the THC kicks in.

It's a temperate summer night, and you are lying together naked, tinny strains of music from a portable radio as you camp in a wildflower meadow en route to the next festival. After a series of magical nights with Ben in his VW bus at the last one, you couldn't resist when he offered for you to continue the journey onwards together. 

He takes a deep drag, the tip glowing like the campfire you are lying in front of, before placing it aside into a metal ashtray and rolling over so he hovers above you, warm skin upon yours.

“I am glad you are on this adventure with me,” he remarks with a lopsided grin, the captivating beauty of his face dancing in the firelight.

“Same.” you concur, reaching to touch the daisy chain buried in his halo of riotous curls, somehow the blooms looking more vibrant in the serene state you are slipping into.

His hand slides languorously down your body from your throat to your lower belly, mapping your fire-warmed skin before lacing his fingers into the downy hair at the apex of your thighs, stirring that nascent buzz between your legs.

“I think this beautiful garden needs some flowers,” he opines silkily, his fingers circling in the strands there, petting gently as his brow twitches into a tempting arch.

He leans over you and plucks a few forget-me-nots from the tall grass, carefully separating each bloom on your stomach. Then, delicately, he weaves each tiny flower into your small thatch of hair, a mild tickle as the stems brush over your skin, making you giggle quietly. He smiles softly, your eyes meeting, then both tracking down the plane of your body as he continues to work quietly, humming gently along to the music.

“There… perfect,” he pronounces proudly; a few moments later, 

It does indeed look pretty: bright blue tiny flowers that contrast strikingly with your hair and skin. 

“Even in this, you are an artist,” you quip blithely.

He smiles demurely through his lashes, shuffling lower and resting his head upon your diaphragm, his fingers tracing soothing patterns around your belly button, his breath puffing warm over your flesh. Allowing the jangle of electric guitar from the radio to fill your bones, your fingers run idly through his luscious locks as your mind floats like cotton in a breeze. The moment seems fleeting but everlasting all at once, profound but insignificant, being so small under the twinkling constellations above. It all coalesces into a sharp need to feel rooted in your body. So you draw your knees up and allow your legs to fall open—a blatant invitation. The apple of his cheek presses into your belly as he smirks knowingly without looking up at you, sensing your need without you needing to voice it, so in tune with your body and desires since the night you met.

“Every beautiful garden should have a sacred fountain…” he rumbles, fingertips spidering down again over the floral weave to tease your splayed inner thigh before sliding casually lower, parting your folds, exhaling roughly at the wet warmth he finds there.

You moan; the mellow cloud you float upon heightens the sensation rippling through your being as his fingers circle your clit, his warm lips suckling gently on your stomach as you writhe under his touch. His name is a sigh upon your lips, his movements unhurried but the perfect amount of pressure. He huffs sonorous praises into your belly as he forms a tighter circle over your swollen bud, moving faster now, your hands flying to the blanket, scrunching in your fists as your head rolls to one side, wanting to bite down upon something, the pleasure coursing through you amplified by your high. 

Whimpering as he slides his fingers lower, two breaching your body, desire thick and viscous dripping upon him as he pushes further in your pussy. The sensation of his knuckles dragging over your walls makes you gasp and call out, your body arching up off the blanket, a heavy throb in your abandoned clit. 

“Please, Ben…” you implore, greedy for more.

He shushes you and unfurls slightly, his fingers flexing inside you as he rearranges to press his whole body into your flank, his cock teasingly hard against your hip, using his free hand to haul one of your legs over his, pulled open to his attention now.

“Don't be impatient; we have all the time in the world,” he tuts sinfully, his lips hot on your throat, grazing the tip of his teeth lightly over your jugular. 

Your protesting mewl is cut short by his fingers twisting inside you, a dragging sensation that makes your eyes roll and your whole abdomen clench.

“I could do this for hours,” he confesses silkily, his breath hot on your temple. “I love the look on your face when I do this…”

He curls his fingers, a probing sensation that makes you groan and your face contort, your mouth now hanging open. He chuckles triumphantly before twisting his wrist again and beginning a rocking motion, wringing a sound from your body that, before you met him, you may have been ashamed of, but he lauds every time. Him murmuring how proud he is that he can do this to you.

But it is not quite enough to push you to the edge as fast as you are craving, more of a slow swirling ascent that has you lighthearted and with laboured breathing, your abdomen rippling as all your muscles tense and release in waves, as if willing your orgasm closer, an itch in your brain you need to scratch. It has you pleading with him to take pity, go a little faster, rougher, anything…

“Syncopate, sweet girl…” he purrs, “listen to the music, breathe in the air, float away with the universe…”

Each word is a lyrical wave tumbling from his lips in a rhythm that matches the movement of his fingers inside you. So you relax back, savouring the multisensory journey, allowing the flow to take you rather than chasing immediate pleasure. Something morphing in your body as you do so, a serenity that is bone-deep, riding the gentle waves of pleasure that lap at your edges while his fingers dance lightly upon your g-spot.

“That’s it….” he rumbles approvingly, intuiting your surrender.

He slips down to enclose your areola in his hot, wet mouth, once again causing a spike of pleasure that has you clenching upon his fingers and canting up. A firm hand on your solar plexus pushes you back down with a chuckle that vibrates your nipple, now firm under his tongue. And so he continues the slow, wondrous torture, swapping to your other breast.

You swear you can feel every blade of grass under your shoulders through the soft cotton weave, the energy of every star above you in the sky coursing through his touch deep inside, every note of the song playing reverberating under your skin. A high, so delicate but earthy, as if everything is turned up to eleven on a dial, tangy and bright, like popping candy throughout your entire being.

It's then he swipes his thumb over your engorged clit; you could swear a supernova fires in your synapses, the sensation all at once too much, and with a few flicks, you are clawing at the blanket and his skin, biting your lip, circling that phenomenal bliss.

This time, he doesn't relent, his lips sucking your neck as with a cry that you are sure startles every animal burrowed in the surrounding fields; you are breaking. Almost febrile, your entire being flushing hot, every muscle tensing, your pussy grasping his fingers to the point he growls, driving his stiff cock into your hip, precum smearing over your skin. Still, it’s something you barely sense, your entire focus pinpointed on the sensations coursing through your body.

At last, you fall back, exhausted and panting, feeling his fingers slip slowly from your body with a gush of moisture that leaks across your bottom. You turn your head to look at him, mind awash, unable to form words. His responding smile is smug, crooked and sheer debauchery, his fingers still wet with your arousal, tracing soothing patterns over your ribs as you come down.

“May I return the favour…?” you croak finally.

Before you know it, he is rolling onto his back next to you, an expectant, joyous look upon his face, eyes tracking pointedly to his navel as do yours. His cock standing proud and leaking slightly—a mouthwateringly inviting sight.

He howls, and his whole body flexes as instead of taking him in hand, you dive low and bring his cock into your mouth, so rigid and searing. That tart taste is strong on your tongue as you suckle upon his head, allowing your tongue to press against his frenulum in a cresting wave. He groans staccato, his pelvis tilts, unable to resist the urge to push a little deeper, one hand landing heavy in your hair, twining some strands between his fingers, an anchor he needs as you begin to bob up and down sucking hard, your cheeks hollowing.

The wash of your high enhancing every second, as if in tune with his body—the micro spasms rippling across the plane of his washboard stomach, the flutter of his long eyelashes, the blunt scrape of his rounded fingernails over your scalp, the pulse of his vein on your lips as you slowly allow him to pass through the tight ring of your mouth, teasing him as much as he did you.

You chuckle as he huffs as you pull away and instead lick the length of his shaft with a questing tongue, your hands encircling his base and squeezing softly, enjoying the handful he provides, watching a bead of precum form that you lavishly lick up. He groans again, his head thrashing upon the blanket, the delicate fronds of daisy petals scattering like confetti into his chestnut waves as he does so, his lip flushing magenta where his incisor worries it.

It makes you sit up and stare down upon him wantonly, so utterly beautiful in his untamed arousal. His eyes fly open, glassy and pleading in the campfire glow, pouting fractionally at the lack of your mouth upon his cock, your hand still pumping him gently. Instead, you swing a leg over his and, without a moment of hesitation, sink onto him, inhaling shudderingly at the invasion, your pussy still inflamed from your recent orgasm.

The look of absolute pleasure and reverence that claims his handsome features feels burned into your retinas as his hands fly to your hips, pushing you down flush to his body, his pubic hair tickling your distended slippery clit, his tip rocking into your hilt in a way that makes your eyes roll.

“Don't move, not yet, just feel…” he counsels, his eyes closing, licking his lips and encouraging you, with the flex of his fingers, to rotate your pelvis, to feel him drag against all your walls. 

And so you do, scratch your nails delicately down his abdominals as you stare out to the inky horizon where the navy sky meets the blackened outline of the hedgerows in the distance—again, letting the melodic song seep into your bones, feeling the heat from the dancing flames.

You lean back and arch your spine, placing your hands upon his kneecaps, his legs bending slightly to meet your grip. His hands roam upwards, over your belly and ribs, enclosing each of your breasts in his large grip, a beeline right to your core, already a live wire again, desire coursing in every fibre of your being. 

Then in a deliberate slow drag, you rise slowly before dropping swiftly, revelling in the way his cock pushes you open. A groan from deep inside your being a match to his—throaty, low, wrecked. You begin to set a languid pace, riding him, gripping his knees behind you and staring at the stars above, feeling as if they surround you, tiny lanterns floating just beyond your reach.

“Look at me,” his call is soft, unfocused, imploring, and you tilt down, your breasts squashed into his palms as your eyes meet, something profound in the glimmer you find in the dilated blackness.

Sex has never been this unrestrained before now. Being with him is liberating, wild and luxuriant every time, be it under the influence or not. But tonight, somehow greater than the previous, an inherently verdant setting, alone in the wilds on a balmy night, away from the crowds always in your periphery at the music festival. A large part of you wanting this to be your new forever—naked and feral, entwined together for a blur of future days and nights. A want to live a primitive life of base urges, to feast and to fuck, to be at one with the land, the seasons and the bounteous simplicity of nature.

Time feels elastic as your thighs start to burn from the exertion. Still, you do not stop, not for a moment, too caught up in the tide slowly rising once more and sensing the same in him. A growing desperation in the way his fingers dig into your flesh, in the wild beating of the prominent vein in his neck, in the rise of his hips to meet yours, spearing up as you bear down so it feels like there will always be the imprint of him inside you.

He calls your name, the callus where he holds his paintbrush catching perfectly over your clit as his fingers quest between your legs, hooking you with unerring precision. Catapulting you fast towards a dizzying high again, his movements growing urgent, his jaw tight, so close to breaking. It is barely a moment before you snap again, stilling upon him as you scream with abandon, fluttering around his rigid cock. He groans loudly and, with a few final jerky spasms, comes hard, his toes curling over, his ropey thighs turning rock solid under your bottom as he fills you, a symphony of praise falling from his lips, some not even in English.

And then you are slumping on top of him, his smooth chest tacky under your cheek as you gulp for air, the rustle of the breeze through the nearby trees and the hiss and pop of the logs upon the campfire the only sounds now, the radio falling silent, likely needing new batteries. He slips from your body as you curl your hands around his biceps and snuggle upon him. His long, lean arms wrap around your torso, enveloping you within the large blanket you were lying upon and dropping a kiss upon your dewy brow.

“We can bathe tomorrow in the river,” he hums gently into your hairline.

You nod drowsily, the pull of sleep too beguiling to resist. And that is how you drift off, resting atop him, his heartbeat strong and steady under your ear, the burbling sounds of nature encircling you.

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @sya-skies

[aettuddae]

business matter — chapter 75.

↳ synopsis: two of the most important kpop companies covet a partnership with a huge global brand, only to be surprised when the deal is extended to both labels. fearing potential sabotage and cynical strategies to secure exclusivity for just one of them, both CEOs resort to desperate measures. in a bid to maintain trust and prevent betrayal before the signing, they come up with a pact: forcing a fake relationship between the leaders of their star girlgroups. if one side attempted to fail the other, they threaten to expose it all to the conservative south korea.

masterlist | prev | next

[written chapter]

serim went to a hallway that was desolate and dark since everyone was at the party, there she knocked and got into an elevator. when she got to the floor above, she walked around looking for hers and karina's manager, who should be with her. it was easy since most of that level were meeting rooms that were only separated by display cases. once she found those she was looking for, she entered.

"what's happening?" she crossed her arms, leaning against the glass next to the door she had just opened, without going too far into the room.

“don't lean on it, it's going to break.” karina warned her.

serim began to shake her body back and forth creating waves that made the glass move frantically, with the mere intention of contradicting the girl.

“serim.” her manager called, implying for her to stop. she rolled her eyes and this time she did obey.

“this will be quick.” the woman in charge of karina spoke.

“do we no longer have to pretend?” the youngest assumed with excitement in her voice.

serim moved her body again aggressively, making the glass tremble behind her, wanting to break the girl's peace.

“serim!” exclaimed the other three people in the room.

"what is it? say it faster.” she hurried.

“we need you to be more affectionate.” the boy let go without further ado. “the superiors asked for it.”

"no way." the eldest refused, affirming her words by swaying her head from side to side.

“oh, now you don't want to?” karina accused her.

"and you do?" she gave her a mischievous look.

"quit that." she made a disgusted expression, scrunching her nose. “i thought you liked me.” she recalled.

“i'm not going to touch you more than necessary in front of chaeyoung.”

the vain expression of the raven haired fell, being replaced by a bored, disinterested one.

“you shouldn't have brought her in the first place.” she analyzed.

“i brought my entire group, not just her.” she clarified. “and i did it to have company and not have to follow you around like a puppy all night so as not to bother you.” she added, exhausted, no longer knowing what to do to not make her angry.

“it's your job, you shouldn't bring your girlfriend.”

“it's your job too and you always get your boyfriend in the middle.” she reproached her.

“girls, i don't care.” serim's staff intervened. “resolve the sexual tension between you at another time, now we have orders to ask you to go kiss each other in front of everyone.” he informed.

"what?" the oldest exalted.

“kiss?” karina squealed, uncomfortable.

“they told us that they've heard people…” aespa's superior thought about her words. “important people,” she sighed. “who doesn't believe you two.” she summarized.

“at first they did think you were a couple, but now it simply seems like you spend a lot of time together.” the man added.

“they began to assume that you are just very close friends.” she concluded.

“your ass.” serim opined.

“how classy.” jimin gave her a judging look.

“they even theorize that maybe you're sisters.” the woman spoke as if the memory had just returned to her head.

“that's ridiculous, we look nothing alike.” the blackhaired woman claimed.

“exactly, i'm more attractive.” jang refuted, everyone looking at her in disbelief at her comment, but she only noticed karina's stupefaction. “you're pretty too, just not more than me.” she patted her on the shoulder.

“please stop talking.” the youngest asked without expression on her face.

“dude…” her manager interrupted. “that's karina from aespa.” he tried to talk some sense into the girl.

“you're my manager.” she looked at him disappointed.

“and that's karina.” he repeated, reaffirming his statement.

“listen, just give each other a kiss.” jimin's manager spoke again. “a short one, but be seen.” recommended. “and then you give the necessary explanations to your partners.” she reasoned. “we are all adults, if they're mature people they will understand that it's your job.”

“jongin shade.” serim joked.

"i'm going to hit you." the dancer threatened.

“with those tiny hands?” she pointed to them.

“okay, now i will kill you.” she raised her fist in the air.

“let's go kiss somewhere, jiminie.” she turned on her heels and opened the door behind her, leaving the place.

“serim!” she followed her angrily that she had ignored her.

they both boarded the elevator in which they had gotten there, waiting in silence for it to reach where the party was, which didn't take that long since it was only one floor.

“listen,” serim spoke. “i'm not going to kiss you.” she made it clear. “let's say we did it and that's it.”

“you're not going to jeopardize the entire plan we've been working on for two months just because you don't want to hurt your girlfriend who shouldn't even be here in the first place.” she held her arm, turning her.

“it's exactly what you do all the time.” she reproached. “let me do it once.” serim continued walking back to where the people were.

“i have never refused a company order and you know it.” jimin followed her, frustrated. “i literally moved into your house because they wanted me to.”

“jimin.” she stopped her steps in the center of the three steps that led to the floor where the people were, shifting her body to face her again. "no-"

unable to continue with her sentence with her mouth being silenced by jimin and her velvety lips that were covered in a lipstick that tasted like some fruit, one that her brain was very focused on the sensation to kiss her as if to start guessing.

jimin had kissed serim before, but this was the first time serim kissed jimin.

she was standing on a higher stair, causing jang to have to lift her head slightly to reach, their lips not fully connected. it was a caress, fleeting, still something far away. the youngest was the one who pulled away first, without giving importance to serim's eyes that admired her from below as if they had just revealed the secret for eternal life, wrapped in tenderness. karina scanned the surroundings to make sure they had been noticed.

“i think that worke-”

“they are still watching us.” serim cut her off.

she took a step forward to her, climbing that tread that separated them, taking karina by the waist once they were at the same level and pulling her into her personal space so she could kiss her again. responding to the act of affection, the girl raised her hands to the opponent's shoulders and rested them there. this time kissing in a more euphoric and voracious way, a reaction to serim's need to feel her, to somehow get out the feelings she had developed.

for karina, it felt like a fulfillment, like something that had to happen was finally done. for her job, or whatever, she was checking a box on one of her homework assignments. and it bothered her that she didn't feel out of place, nor irritating. not even the taste of cigarettes in serim's mouth disconcerted her, but rather she felt invited to try to taste it better. if she was forced to have it happen, she was at least grateful that it wasn't an unpleasant experience.

serim didn't want to break apart, she wanted to feel that softness longer, she wanted to have her in her arms at all times. the woman had even forgotten that there were people around who were surely begging these two disrespectful women to stop making out in public, but for jang the sensation of yu's mouth was addictive. so much that the latter was again who ended the contact and looked at her for a moment before completely separating her body from her and taking a few steps back. serim was going to speak and even stretched out her arm to grab her and hold her in once again, but in a spontaneous glance that she cast to her side she saw a figure that she knew well walking away. she looked in that direction again to have a better understanding of what was happening and saw minnie with a bitter expression.

then serim ran off to follow chaeyoung.

“don't you think you should stay with me for a moment at least?” karina tried to stop her, because of the credibility of her job, but the oldest did not listen to her.

[mothiir]

team bonding

cw: gangbang, noncon, night lords being night lords. face-fucking. everyone gets quite sticky.

—

—

—

“I’m not translating that,” says Zakyr, and it takes a moment for Vanatas to register the refusal — he’s completely lost in the velvet-soft slickness wrapped around his cock, the sweet-salt scent of fear filling the air, the way your belly distends unnaturally with each thrust, pillowing upwards. All that pliant, delicious flesh; of so much more use to him when it is securely attached to your body, rather than hanging in curtains around the ship. He is so, so glad that he and his brothers got to you before some of the more bloodthirsty of his legion; equally glad that — despite his damnable personality — Zakyr is the best hand to hand fighter in the Claw, and that Shrike is such an excellent shot. They half-killed four other Night Lords to make sure you ended up sandwiched between them, rather than under another, or — worse still — in the flaying pits, which would have been such a waste. Shrike is currently taking his due from your throat, his black eyes glazed with pleasure as he attempts to force his way past your uvula. The obscene wet glucking noises of your gag reflex — and the whimpering forced out around his prick in a slurry of sound and drool — is more erotic than it has any right to be, and Vanatas can’t make up his mind on where to look: his own prick, bullying away your insides to make space for himself; or your throat, stretched to breaking point, until he can practically see the veins of Shrike’s prick.

He isn’t really enamoured with the thought of Shrike’s prick, nor does he especially enjoy the sight of his brother’s balls — even if they are dragging across your face and occasionally stifling your already-stuttering breaths from your nose — so he redirects his attention to your stomach, and —

Wait. What did Zakyr say?

He looks up, pausing mid-thrust. You whine; he’s almost hilt deep, stuffing you agonisingly full.

“What did you say?”

“I said I’m not translating that,” says Zakyr, a little sulkily. He’s seated on one of the benches that ring the shower room, his arms folded across his chest. There is very little privacy aboard this ship; they’ve barred and bolted the doors to stop any of their brothers wandering by and wanting to take a turn.

“Why not?”

Shrike adjusts his hold, compensating for the change in tempo, cupping the back of your head with something that could be mistaken for tenderness — if he wasn’t fucking your throat with the trivial abandon of one who would continue even if you were to black out. Knowing Shrike, he’d probably prefer it if you did, the monumental pervert.

“Because you said to tell her to say that you’re the biggest she’s ever had. That’s not true.’

“It — it doesn’t matter if it’s true,” Vanatas snaps, working his hips in tiny little circles, grinding the head of his cock up against the fleshy entrance to your womb. You squeal in pain — or, at least, try to. The sound emerges as a gargled mess as Shrike strokes your throat, practically jerking himself off through the stretched-tight skin.

“But it isn’t. And I’m going to have her after you, and I was planning on having her say that, and that —“ Zakyr sounds a little smug now, his boyish face curling into a smirk. “—that would be true.”

It would be. Vanatas refuses to admit that. Zakyr is freakishly large, even for an Astartes. Clearly, the geneseed he was given took all the energy it spared on developing brain cells and converted it into height and bulk.

“Doesn’t matter,” Shrike opines. “Just - just let it drop. Fuck, she’s got such a tight throat — I’m going to make her swallow it all — tell her that, Zak. Tell her she’s going to swallow all my cum and then — then never get any rations again, she’s only going to eat what she can suck out of my balls, so if she wants to live she’ll do a damn good job.”

Both Vanatas and Zakyr exchange a look that is half revolted and half impressed. Shrike may seem somewhat straightforward — see problem, shoot problem, problem gone — but he has an unexpectedly fascinating imagination.

“Could we do that?” Zakyr says, as Vanatas begins to thrust once more — he can’t not, even when his brothers irk him so. You’re all warm and soft and tight, the best thing he thinks he’s ever been inside, and all he wants to do is hump deeper, and faster, and harder, until his seed is leaking out of your cunt and swelling your belly. You cry out — this time the sound is unruffled, since Shrike has pulled out, and is smearing his prick all over your face, glossing your skin with your spittle and his pre-cum.

“I — I think so —“ Shrike pants, clearly drawing close to climax. “Say it to her Zak, say it, tell her that she’s just a — a cocksleeve who‘ll live, breathe and drink my cum — “

“Our cum,” Vanatas corrects, still just a little sore about Zakyr’s refusal. He’s not officially the leader, but damn it he’s the oldest, and you were his idea! Mostly.

“—our cum, I don’t give a shit — tell her Zak —“

Zakyr translates hurriedly, either out of the goodness of his own heart, or — more likely — because he finds the sound of his brother panting his name in a needy pre-orgasm whine disconcerting. You sob, hard and broken, choking on your own spit, the angle making it hard for you to gulp in air, even without Shrike’s cock rammed down your throat.

Vanatas’ Gothic is abysmal, but he understands a few words. Enough to know what you are whimpering:

“Please, please, please — please stop —“

By the False Emperor’s left ballsack, it’s the sweetest thing he’s heard in an age. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of your soft sobbing, or your adorable hapless pleas, or the prey-animal fear in your eyes. He buries himself in deep — you wail in agony — and cums so hard he sees stars, your tight cunt milking every last scrap of cum, welcoming him in deep. Almost at the same time, Shrike finishes, painting your face and throat white, his hand sliding back and forth over his shaft to make sure that you’re thoroughly covered. It clings to your eyelashes, mixes with your tears, hangs in glutinous strands over your lips.

“Fuck, that was amazing,” Shrike pants, grinning down at you. One hand still cupping your head, supporting you, he starts to scoop his seed onto your panting mouth. “Clean up. There’s a good girl. Zakyr? Tell her that. Tell her she’s a good girl.”

“No, tell her she’s a worthless little slut for the legion, and she’s going to spend her days chained to my bed with her arse in the air,” Vanatas snaps, still wedged inside you. You’re tight enough around his cock to keep him buried inside, plugging his seed into you, where it belongs. He can feel himself stirring, already getting ready for another round — you feel it too, his cock starting to stiffen, and you wail in despair — a sound swiftly turned into wet gagging as Shrike coats his fingers in his own cum and rams them into your throat.

“Nice nutritious meal for the little fledgeling,” he says, with a dopey smile. “That’s all you’re getting, isn’t it? I’ll starve you until your red heart beats through your skin, yes I will, and you’ll beg me for it, open mouthed like the itty bitty baby bird you are —“

Zakyr isn’t translating anymore. Instead he gestures impatiently to his own lap.

“My turn. Bring her here.”

Both Vanatas and Shrike glower at him.

“Lazy bastard,” Vanatas grumbles, but he still obeys: lifting you up so you’re nestled against his chest, his cock still inside. Shrike presses closer, unwilling to stop his new favourite hobby of finger-feeding you his ejaculate. You lick at his fingers with mindless, fucked-out obedience, sucking at the webbing between them. Shrike coos.

“So cute. She’s going to look so cute all chained up in my bedroom —“

“My bedroom,” Vanatas growls, with a little half-thrust between your thighs, working his hardening cock through his own cum. It squelches obscenely and you utter another miserable wail.

Zakyr shows his teeth. “Bring her here now.” The change in tone — from his usual amiable chatter, to the growling harmonics of an angry Astartes — has Vanatas reaching for a weapon that isn’t there. He recovers swiftly, however, scooping you up off his prick — you sob, and Shrike whines as you’re taken away from his probing fingers — and unceremoniously dropping you onto Zakyr’s lap. He notes, with no small amount of satisfaction, that you’re dripping his cum all over Zakyr’s thighs.

Zakyr doesn’t seem to notice, however, or he does not care. He kisses your cheek, nuzzling at your neck, running his tongue over the bite-marks that Vanatas and Shrike have already left. There’s barely a space on your throat that isn’t garlanded with black-purple bruising, where they sucked and nipped and licked. Zakyr finds a just-healing wound and works it open with his tongue, his throat bobbing as he suckles, humming contentedly at the taste of your blood.

“Delicious,” he sighs, in Gothic. “Delicious little mortal. We’re going to eat you up, my brothers and I. But don’t worry. You won’t die. We won’t let you die.”

Vanatas has no idea what Zakyr is saying, but whatever it is seems to sink right to your marrow and break something deep inside. You start to sob, tears struggling past the gobbets of cum on your face. Zakyr smiles like a wolf, and forces your legs over his lap, angling his cock upwards with one hand.

“Sit on it,” he says. “I want to watch you put it in.”

Your little shoulders shake with another sob as you take his cock in hand and awkwardly shuffle over it. Your cunt is already stretched and sore, but it clearly pains you to take Zakyr — you whimper and hiccup, and all the while Zakyr just watches you, smiling. He doesn’t make a move to help you as you wriggle your hips, brace yourself, and sink down. You cry out, and he hums satisfaction.

“The rest now. Get it all in there, or I’ll flay your skin in strips. Don’t think I won’t.”

You take another deep, fortifying breath, perched up on the balls of your feet, looking for all the world like a nervous little songbird — and then you drop down, forcing him deeper into your guts, your hands grasping at your own sides, simply for something to cling to. Zakyr leans back, folds his arms behind his head, resting against the wall. Enjoying the view.

“Faster, fledgeling. Deeper. You’re going to learn to please me eventually, you should start now.”

Wondering if Shrike is having a hissy-fit over the use of the nickname he thought up, Vanatas looks sidelong at his brother — only to see that the other Astartes has taken himself in hand, and is stroking his cock to the sight of you trying your best to get Zakyr’s cock inside you.

“What?” Shrike says, completely unashamed.

Vanatas considers, then decides that it really isn’t the worst thing that he’s done in the presence of his brothers, and copies Shrike. His hand is slick with your juices and his cum, and the smell is intoxicating. Sweet, musky, terrified, helpless, hopeless —

You’re riding Zakyr in earnest now, your thighs tense and straining, your palms resting on his chest for support. Tears drip freely down your face and Zakyr thumbs them away — carefully avoiding the remnants of Shrike’s climax — and licks them up.

“Good girl — tight, sweet little mortal —“

In his excitement, he’s started to lapse back into his native tongue. His black eyes are bright and unhinged with glee. You sob openly, and suddenly collapse into his lap, your strength failing you.

“I can’t,” you say. “I can’t, it hurts, I can’t — “

“You can’t? Can’t ride me anymore? Lazy little piece of cunt, — just as well I’m in a good mood.”

He scoops you up by the hips and starts bouncing you on his cock, ragdolling you — each thrust forces out more of Vanatas’s spend, frothing pink around your thighs, mingling with where one (or all) of them have torn you, made you bleed. Vanatas’ mouth waters at the sight. When Zakyr is done, he’ll bury himself back in there, make sure that he fills you back up —

The slap of flesh on flesh is almost loud enough to drown out your desperate sobbing and your half-swallowed cries. When Zakyr cums, it’s with an intensity that takes even him by surprise; his eyes widen, and you wail. Shrike, moving with a speed rarely seen out of combat, steps over, grabs your hair, and forces your head backwards, the spongy head of his cock wedging into your mouth just as he finishes. You have no choice but to swallow, even if half of his cum ends up spilling out, down onto your chest.

Zakyr groans, sinking his teeth into the meat of your shoulder. Blood spills between his fangs at once, and he drinks greedily for a moment, before pulling back to lick the wound clean.

Shrike presses his forehead to thr crown of your head, panting for breath.

Vanatas clears his throat delicately.

“My turn,” he says

[notbecauseofvictories]

It's interesting, because at my last job my boss was good---very good---about creating and fostering relationships. At the time I was horrified, because why are you texting our general counsel? Why are you calling someone up and asking them to opine on something that's just showed up on your radar?? This is business, we need to do business-y things in a business way!!!

It took me a long time to recognize what this approach bought him. He was terrible at data entry, yes. I don't think he once ever approved my vacation time, just said "sure, put your out of office message on." (He hated approving vacation time, so he just....didn't.) But he was looped in, hooked in, always consulted. Everyone picked up his calls, because if he was calling it wasn't going to be a haranguing, he wanted to work with you to achieve both your goals, and honestly? you could call him out of the blue too. It worked both ways. He was crystal clear when things were handed down from the top (usually because we'd get a beer and he'd complain about it) and when requests were coming from him/our team. And he was always, always very clear that we were his people, and it was Us against The Company; he was consistently, unequivocally and completely on our side.

(........this did not stop The Company from pulling its shenanigans, but it always felt like he was siding with Us when it did.)

I know this, because now I'm in an organization where my boss isn't on our side, where things aren't explained---even when explanations would make the boss' requests more reasonable. I'm aware of other situations too, where members of the team have been what seems like deliberately insulted or attacked by our boss, which is frankly unnecessary.

I don't have a conclusion to draw from all of this, and god knows that bad bosses are ten a penny, each terrible in their own way. Still, I do think about it more and more, particularly as I stare down 1 year with the company.

[the-californicationist]

Good Fences (Fluffuary #24)

FEB24: Gift Giving

Christmas morning came early. John had woken you up with his kisses and his warmth, and begged you to come sit under the tree with him. You giggled, groggy and exhausted, yawning in your robe, still half-asleep. 

“John,” you sighed, “I thought we said no presents this year?”

“Sure,” he chuckled, “Is that why there are nearly ten boxes down here with my name across them?”

You blushed, shaking your head, 

“I’m sure you already know what those are. Besides, one of them is socks!”

“Sit, missus. Santa insists.”

You followed him to the floor, snuggling against him, 

“Alright, Mr. Claus. What is so urgent?”

He lifted a small box from the low branches of the tree, careful not to disturb the glittering glass ornaments, and handed it to you. It was light, but there was something sturdy about the structure of the container. You eyed him carefully,

“What did you do?”

He smiled, petting you lovingly along your back and shoulders,

“Heard your wish, and I made it come true.”

You ripped off the wrapping and cracked open the box to reveal a shining gold key. There was a green paper tag on the ring that read: 2323 Birdsong Street.

Suddenly, you realized what he had done. 

Ever since he had come home, you and John had been pitching the idea about officially moving into a house together just outside of Bethesda. You’d shared homes back and forth on all the realty apps, and you’d even looked at a few apartments, just in case the housing situation fell through. But, you’d fallen in love with one that was decidedly outside of your price range. 

You shouldn’t have even been looking at it. John had told you bits and pieces about his finances, but you were shocked when he sent you this one as a recommendation, thinking no one would have enough money for it — not even a decorated military captain. There was no way you could afford a five bedroom that sat on two acres along the Potomac. It was insane to even consider it.

2323 Birdsong was a remodeled Colonial, but other than updating the necessities and fixing what was broken, the owners had done an incredible job of keeping it as original as possible. The dark woodwork and crown molding made each room feel cozy and homey, and you could just imagine spending the holidays there with John and all of your friends. He opined about fishing in the river, and you fantasized about all of the fun you might have together in front of the fireplace. It was just a dream.

And now, it was yours. 

“John! We can’t… I know I told you that I loved the house, but I can’t afford it. I don’t know how…”

He grabbed your neck gently in his big, warm hand and put your forehead on his. Then, he kissed you, keeping your words from pouring out. He whispered softly, 

“Got it for you, love. You don’t owe me anything. I’ve decided to hang up my hat for good, and now that I’m retired, I’m yours to command. Proper house husband, ready for his honey-do lists.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you gasped, reeling from the shock. 

He chuckled, kissing you again,

“Wanna go see it? Maybe we can give the bedroom a test run.”

You laughed, nodding your head, nearly racing to get dressed. You weren’t sure if you were looking forward to the house, or to John’s idea of a test run, but you were eager for both to be yours.

AO3 Link

[fruitytrollroll]

scratching the walls, running laps, I actually barked out of excitement. ( RUFF, BARK, BARK, RUFF, RUFF, GRRR, GIMME MORE )

Okay okay, one more but that's it, I don't want to spoil anyone's appetite. 😏

u get a pickle cellar excerpt

🥒🪲✨

Prismo leads Scarab to a dim, greenlit cellar, where the air is cool and pleasantly damp. Enormous barrels line the walls, above which are equidistant embedded shelves, packed with orderly lines of gleaming, sealed jars. The faint scent of brine drifts on the air, like Prismo has brought him to a brackish tide cave.

When Scarab had begun his inspection in earnest, he had observed the trash and sundry littered about the Time Room with disdain, and had automatically sneered when he began to imagine how the rest of the Cube might look. But he hadn't expected this.

"Haven't been down here in a while," Prismo idly volunteers, which may go a ways to explaining that discrepancy.

"Is that why it's so much cleaner?" Scarab dryly inquires. He sees no reason to hide his censure.

Prismo smiles sheepishly. "I was about to clean right before you showed up! That's why I closed the doors. Wouldn't wanna sweep any 'shorts' into the bin by accident." He laughs unconvincingly.

The reminder of Prismo's strange verbal slip earlier only serves to convince Scarab of the necessity of this inspection.

"Go on, then," Scarab invites with a gesture of eloquence. "Regale me with your process."

For the first time since Scarab arrived, Prismo actually looks somewhat enthused--though it's a far cry from his usual energy. He must be incredibly hungover.

"Okay, so the cool thing about pickling is that it's totally shelf-stable..."

--

"... And the longer you wait to eat them, the better they taste!"

Scarab hums, lifting one of the jars and examining it under the acidic lights. "I was under the impression that time didn't move forward, as such, in the Time Room."

"Right?" Prismo gushes. "Just a little trick I figured out."

"Do tell," Scarab says, interested despite himself. As frivolous a pastime as this is for the guardian of the entire multiverse's continuity and continued stability, Scarab is aware that sometimes turning one's powers to unexpected purpose can yield discoveries which lend one greater control of over those powers, and greater flexibility in their use. Perhaps that is the appeal of having a hobby, he muses.

And if he is to one day be Wishmaster, then hearing Prismo opine on the nature of his powers will ensure Scarab is adequately prepared to do the job more justice than Prismo ever did.

"As Wishmaster," Prismo ostentatiously begins, "I basically have control over every dimension in the Time Room. Like, I may just be a two-dimensional being, but I can still move the walls, and any inanimate three-dimensional objects in this space."

Or me, Scarab thinks with a thread of unease--though fortunately Prismo can only hold him, not move him.

... As far as he knows.

"Making time pass in the Time Room is as easy as moving a wall, once you figure out how to manipulate the fourth dimension!"

"It's that simple, is it?"

"Well," Prismo says modestly. "It took me a while to get the hang of it. But hey! Who can argue with these results?" He gestures proudly at his crop of jars. "You wanna try some? You seem like a 'hot and spicy' kinda guy to me."

"Hm," says Scarab. Against his better judgment, he's considering it.

Then Prismo heaves a sigh, rather disproportionate to Scarab's answer, in his opinion. The god-auditor turns to look at the Wishmaster askance, and finds him staring at the floor, looking positively downtrodden. Surely he's not that invested in Scarab trying out his pickles?

Scarab almost opens his mouth to ask what in the world is the matter with the Wishmaster, but before he can, Prismo mutters dejectedly, "That's the last time I make an unauthorized universe."

Scarab goes very still.

"... An unauthorized universe?" he softly says.

Prismo's eye widens, and he looks guiltily at his god-auditor guest.

"Ah... crap."

[wily-one24]

I am intrigued by your liking Casey more. So character break down for her to, if you want.

Okay, but like... I did SAY I understood it was unpopular opinion. I know everyone loves Alex. And I like her too.

I can't explain why, I just... I really liked Casey. More so than Alex.

Why do I like salty chips more than sweet chocolate?

I'm just made that way, I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

CASEY NOVAK:

--> How I feel about this character:

Casey was just fun. Like, c'mon, she was balls to the wall insane. From the get go. She had life, she had fire, she didn't give a shit, she played baseball with Elliot and joked with them all, she wanted to get a judge disbarred/arrested, she went to a judge's private home during his poker game and threatened to stay there all night untess he signed her warrant, she took on the entire US army, she got violently assaulted and came back to work the next day expecting to remain on the case and was OFFENDED when they took her off.

Think about all the shit Olivia saw/did/put up with when it came to Elliot, and then look up at that gif, THAT is where Olivia is all "Girl, you're pushing it". When OLIVIA BENSON is holding you back from getting justice, you know you've obliterated a line or two.

But she was also vulnerable and emotional. She cried over little girls in coolers and questioned whether she could remain in SVU, she mourned the boy who committed suicide, she pled out the daughter of the drunken mother because it made Olivia sad. She was scared when she woke up in the hospital. She felt regret over her ex-boyfriend with a mental illness because she had to prioritise herself and he lost control.

She was human.

In a way that, unfortunately, Alex was not able to be, because Alex was created in the year 2000 when police procedural women had to be "professional" and less "emotional". Alex had a very strong hold on her emotions (though they came out on occasion).

Casey? Casey had a hold on ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. And I enjoyed it.

--> All the people I ship romantically with this character:

I don't really ship Casey with anyone. She's a friend. I'd go out drinking with her. But I'm not gonna think about her sex life that much.

--> My non-romantic OTP for this character:

I'm really sitting on the fence here with this ask. I don't know? Like, she got on really well with Olivia and Elliot...

--> My unpopular opinion about this character:

Apart from the one already mentioned?

Is there really that much to opine about Casey? She did her job well (a litte/lot crazy, but she did it). She got results. She had really good chemistry with the entire team.

Perhaps my unpopular opinion is that I would have liked her to either stay or return. Which is a difficult ask, because I also loved Barba.

--> One thing I wish would happen/had happened with this character:

I would love to see Casey return.

If they could ever make up their minds if she was disbarred or not. One episode she is, then she returns to say she was only censured, and then the next time she's referred to, she's been disbarred again.

I mean, knowing Casey, it's also possible she was disbarred for a completely different reason that happened later.

[yuna542]

Masterlist

Car Ride

Pairing: Im Jang-Do × Reader|Myeong-Gils daugther

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol & Sex, Explicit Smut, Oral (m receiving), fingering, Daddy Kink, age difference, pet names, swearing, public sex

Summary: Im Jang-Do. The strategy management director of Smile Capital and right hand of Myeong-Gil has to do his job as a personal bodyguard for the daughter of his boss once again, as she ran away and pick her up at a party. But this night something is different...

Note: Yes he‘s a villain, and yes he’s hot. So don’t blame me… Have fun with this OS and tell me if you liked it <3

"Such a pain in the ass," you muttered, though loud enough for the ex-cop behind the wheel to hear. Through the rearview mirror, you could see him raise an eyebrow, eyes fixed on the road as you sped down Soul at a hundred miles an hour.

"You know very well that your father doesn't like to see you partying wildly and indulging in pleasure..."

His deep voice literally vibrated off the walls of the black SUV. He had chosen his private car for this assignment. It was swanky, shiny, suited him.

You crossed your arms and looked out the window:

"I'm not that drunk."

He smirked and looked at your long crossed legs through the mirror, disappearing endlessly behind the seats under the black minidress.

"Oh yeah? I got you out of there just in time. You were standing on a table getting undressed."

A snort was the only response. You just wanted a night out, to clear your head and get away from all the stress your father put on you every day. He wanted you to take over Smile Capital one day, taught you all the disciplines. In addition to economics, credit business and proper behavior, there was also how to hold a gun, manipulate or intimidate people to your advantage.

You were almost an adult, still a teenager at heart. You longed for freedom, fun and passion. Jang-Do could understand that. However, you were always going overboard. When you entered a room, all eyes were on you, one or the other gasped in awe, others just stared with envy. You were intelligent, beautiful, with attentive eyes and a body that would drive any man out of his mind. He couldn't help but notice your cleavage tonight, as the dress seductively revealed a glint of your breasts. Your waist narrow, your curves soft, plush, thick. It would never occur to him to touch his boss's daughter. After all, you were so young and he had become your nanny by now. He liked to talk himself into working as a bodyguard and yet it was he who picked you up from excessive parties or criminal events. If your father knew half of what he had seen, he would be more than incensed.

Even though you'd had a long night, the car smelled like sweet honey laced with rose water since you got in, in addition to its pungent aftershave.

"It was just getting fun, you have to barge in like my babysitter and ruin everything," you opined, bobbing your foot slightly with the red highheel shimmering on your foot in the car's blue LED light.

"Better call me your bodyguard.... It's less humiliating."

You smirked and returned his gaze over the mirror for the first time that evening. Your lips gleamed from the lip gloss you'd just applied and one eyebrow lifted in amusement.

"Did you wake up because of me?" you asked, noticing his rumpled shirt, only half buttoned, and messy hair that was usually neatly styled. Others would have felt guilty, might have apologized. You just smiled, as if pleased by that fact.

"Couldn't sleep anyway," he grumbled, quickly averting his eyes as he lost track of the road for a second, caught in your eyes. That was the truth. The call from Myeong-Gil had reached him just as he was tossing and turning in bed, desperate for sleep. His boss had informed him that his only daughter, a hothead, barely tamable, much like her father, had gone off on her own. He had found your bed empty. You had once again gotten out of the window to escape the gaze of the guards Myeong-Gil had hired to keep an eye on you. But this was a job that had to be handled with discretion. Therefore, Jang-Do was given the job once again. He already suspected that you had gone to one of the three bars you preferred, and he was asked to pick you up and bring you back.

Annoyed, he slipped into his clothes, took his car keys and went to the bars. He found what he was looking for in the second one.

A bar called Pink Flamingo. He was just through the door when he spotted your long legs on the bar. All around you full of people cheering you on as you danced, drank shots and singing along loudly. The way you drew attention to yourself, enjoying it and playing with the attentiveness of the men below made him pause for a moment and watch you. Your bright laughter cut through the sweat-soaked air like a glistening light. The way you moved your hips to the beat of the music, letting your hands roam over your stomach, your sides, your breasts. He had been entranced until one of the young men who were far too normal, far too inferior to even breathe in your presence:

"Strip!"

Directly others joined in. Both girls and boys. All charmed by you and your charisma. He couldn't help but think of the old tales of sirens and nymphs who made people run smiling to their doom with just the blink of an eye or a smile.

Until now, he thought you were a pretty but headstrong girl who hadn't seen much and knew even less. But now that you were sitting in his back seat, your eyes fixed on the colorful lights of Soul, he could see a certain wisdom in you.

Before you could pull your dress up further, he had closed his hand around your ankle and looked up at you warningly. It had taken you a while to recognize your father's right hand and strategy management director of Smile Capital through the fog caused by the alcohol.

"Get down! Now!" his voice was calm, cutting, and as deep as the ocean.

The sharp jawline, the high cheekbones, the deep black eyes radiated a masculinity that made you bite your lower lip. No one, really no one dared to speak to you like that. Because of your name, your father, or your appearance.

Most trembled at your presence, despite your age. Not Jang-Do. He'd always been untouchable to your charm. At least, that's how it seemed.

Always grim-faced, he did not respond to your attempts at flirtation, nor did he succumb to your looks.

Not even there when you smiled, sat down on the bar, and pulled his hand into your lap.

"Jang-do! Why don't you come and have a drink with me?"

Unimpressed, he stared at you while the people around you eyed you curiously. Your hand was small and soft in his big strong ones.

"We're leaving. Now!" he ordered, pulling you on from the bar. You resisted, trying to fight off his hands as he pushed you through the people.

"Stop it! If you don't let go of me, I'll have you fired!" you hissed, but he only snorted what sounded very much like a laugh.

Even if you had the power, you would never do it. Jang-Do has been a confidant for too long, and there were few of those among your kind.

Outside, in front of the club, you successfully refused to go any further, clinging to a lantern. Sighing, he massaged his temples as you stubbornly glared at him:

"You can't do this! Leave me alone already!"

He shoved his hands into his pockets and watched you cling to the lantern like a drowning woman. It almost looked cute.

"I can't and you know it. Now come on and save us both some time."

You drew your eyebrows together and pushed your lower lip forward. Pouting, you slowly disengaged your arms from the lantern, careful, as if one wrong move could set off a shot. Jang-Do raised his eyebrows in anticipation, recognizing the flash of an idea in your eyes before you could run. Squealing, he caught you and threw you over his shoulder. Cursing, you drummed on his broad shoulders as he carried you to his huge car in front of everyone who turned to look at you. His fingers were tight on your thighs and with a red face you noticed how your dress was riding up. At the car he opened the back door, lowered you and finally you got in. But not before giving him the middle finger in the face.

"Fuck you," you whispered, tugging your dress back into place.

There was actually a smile on his lips as he slammed the door behind you and climbed into the driver's seat.

After you sighed emphatically the third time, he exhaled audibly and looked in the mirror:

"What?"

You looked at his hands, veins trailing over them, like a ripened leaf.

"I'm hungry."

His index finger tapped up and down on the steering wheel until he finally said:

"Burger?"

With a satisfied smile, you nodded quickly and he caught himself smiling too as you looked out the window again, appeased.

At a fast food joint, he pulled up. The stars shone in the cloudy sky. It was a mild night, with balmy breezes swirling the dust on the streets.

You ordered a whole menu. Burgers, fries, coke with lots of ice. The alcohol and the dancing had made you hungry. He himself took a ginger beer and paid for everything.

He drove you to the Han River so the people in the parking lot couldn't keep staring at you. The girl in the Louis Vuitton dress, with the Chanel heels, and her big muscular protector in the Gucci shirt looked strangely out of place in a cheap fast food restaurant.

He parked the car under a bridge and you sat down in the open trunk overlooking the water. It was quiet, cooler than right in the city, and he watched you kick off your heels, put them behind you, and devour your menu with dangling feet.

Right now you didn't look like the daughter of an influential loan shark and brutal gangster. You looked like a pretty girl, just coming of age, happy to have a burger and full of energy. He wondered if you only showed yourself like that around him. You were always perfect in front of the others. You never flinched. Eloquent and above it all. Even in front of your father, you never seemed relaxed or like yourself.

"Jang-do?"

He startled up from his thoughts, noticing that you had finished eating and were just sipping your drink.

"Huh?"

"If you weren't here.... Where would you like to be?" you asked, looking at him with so much curiosity in your eyes that his breath caught.

Your thighs brushed his and he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he answered:

"You mean if I didn't have to babysit you?" he asked and you lifted your gaze from his muscular forearms.

"Bodyguard."

He laughed. It was a strange sound, and yet you wanted to hear it again. You leaned against his shoulder teasingly.

"You know what I mean."

He ran his hand through his hair, looking at your silver necklace with a crescent moon on it. You'd gotten it from your mother one day. Just before she died. Since then, he had never seen you without it. It lay on your skin like liquid silver and he resisted the urge to touch the place where it touched your collarbone.

"I've heard Hawaii is beautiful," he said, and you smiled. Immediately, images of raffia skirts and hula dancers popped into your head.

"And you? If you didn't have to take over Smile Capital? What would you do?" he asked, his interest making your cheeks blush a little.

"I'd like to dance."

He frowned in wonder, feeling your body lean against his, warm and soft.

"Dancing, really?" he asked incredulously.

You felt directly silly. You had never told anyone about your hobby. Since childhood, you loved to dance. From ballet to hip-hop and standard dances, you had done it all.

"Yes. Anywhere. On stages, in the theater, or teaching it to others. It doesn't matter."

You expected him to laugh at you. Make fun of you, or even be disgusted. Instead, he looked out at the river, the way the city lights shimmered on the surface like jewelry.

"It suits you."

The smile widened and he thought he had never seen anything more beautiful. Now it made sense to him why you went out partying so often. There you could dance regardless of your surroundings, let off steam without the fear of being stopped by your father. Or of being dragged out by his right hand.

But that was his job and the life you were born into.

That's when his eyes fell on the time on his phone and he stood up. Almost in a panic, you looked up at him.

"I really should take you home now."

"Please don't!" it escaped you and he closed his eyes for a moment, building up all his resistance against your big pleading eyes.

"Why don't you just want to go back?" he asked, rummaging in his back pocket for the car keys.

"I hate it there. Always the same. I'm trapped, never free to do what I want," you said, realizing you were finally being honest for once.

"And yet I have to take you back."

You stood up and just as he had the car keys in his hand, you sped forward and got a hold of them. Quickly you ran around the car, afraid he might grab you again.

But he stopped, looked at you blankly and tilted his head slightly.

"What are you doing?"

You raised the key in the air and jingled it playfully.

"If you want them, you'll have to get past me first."

You grinned wildly and he laughed throatily again. Glancing at the ground, he kicked a rock away and looked back up at you.

"You don't want to do that."

You continued around the car, to the passenger side, wiggling your eyebrows defiantly.

"You don't know what I want!"

Actually, he hadn't gotten up to play catch with a rebellious girl, and yet he felt the need to bend you over his hood to see if you still had such a big mouth with his handprint on your ass. Slowly he walked around the car, keeping you in his eyes like a lynx on the lookout. Your heart leapt with excitement and before you could react, he chased you around the car. Squealing, you tried to escape, but he reached you at the hood at the latest, grabbed your wrist and pressed you against the cold metal.

You hid the key behind your back and withstood his penetrating eye contact. Defiantly you jutted your chin at him, even as his eyes roamed over your face, scrutinizing your lips, and you realized how close he was to you. His chest was pressed against yours, his hip against yours, and he pushed one knee between your legs to get to the key.

Only when his lips hovered right in front of yours did he seem to realize what had just happened. You thought he would back away, turn away and scowl. Instead, you felt his hot breath bounce against your lips and his hand find its way to your hip. He was older. Much older and yet the gleam in his eyes was young, his broad shoulders agile and his desire real. Your body heat made him increasingly lose his mind, and he whispered in a voice so low it made you shiver:

"What are you doing?"

Your eyes wandered up and down until you gently placed your free hand against his chest.

"What are you doing?" you repeated his question, barely more than a breath.

"I want my key!"

"Uh-huh."

You slowly took out the hand with the key, but right now you could only pay attention to his firm chest, his attractive face hovering in front of yours, and his tart masculine smell.

The hood was pressed tighter and tighter against your butt and he made no effort to put distance between you. Gradually, pure fire rose in his eyes and desire slammed its claws into you.

"You can have them," you whispered, unable to speak louder.

Your hand with the key hovered next to his shoulder, but he was no longer interested. Instead, he pulled your chin closer and your lips collided. The key fell onto the hood with a click as he grabbed you by the hips, lifted you onto it, and stepped between your legs. Your hands flew into his hair, pulling at it as your lips collided hard.

It was a fireworks display of passion, lust and desire. Pure heat gripped you and you hurriedly unbuttoned his shirt, touching his abs, sighing into his mouth as he cupped your breasts, kneading them until you felt dizzy. Your legs were wrapped around his hips, pulling him closer

Desperately, he bit your lower lip until you opened your mouth a little. He let his tongue slip in and played with yours. His dominance made you melt like butter in his hands. His lips found their way down your neck, sucking on the crook of your neck as he pushed the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

"Shit... Jang-Do," you gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden excitement that gathered red-hot between your legs.

Your father would kill you both with his own hands. Jang-Do slowly and agonizingly, that was clear to him, and yet the idea that he was taking something that belonged to his boss fired him.

He pushed your dress down until your breasts sprang free and watched you for a moment. The cold air on your heated skin made you shiver. At your hips, the dress had ridden up so far that you sat with your bare ass on the cool hood. A red thong soaked between your legs.

"Such pretty tits... A shame I'm only seeing them now," he purred, and you gasped softly as he twirled your nipples between his fingers. Then he clasped a sensitive bud and sucked on it until you fell backward, clinging to his neck to stay even halfway upright.

He worked the soft flesh of your breasts with his mouth and kneaded the other breast until you felt dizzy and impatiently pressed your middle against his crotch.

"Jang-Do please!" you sighed, clawing into his chest. You could feel how hard he was. Even through the fabric of his pants.

"Please what? Use your words baby girl," he murmured in your ear, pulling lightly on your hair to press his mouth against your throat.

"Please fuck me. Please!"

You would have been embarrassed by the pleading otherwise, but right now, with him touching you in a way that made your body melt before him, you didn't care.

"Who would have thought? The little princess is a little whore...begging to be fucked by me," he murmured, stroking his fingers through your wet folds. Pressing his thumb on your clit, he murmured:

"Don't you think you should start by apologizing for making me work overtime tonight because of you?"

His eyes gleamed like those of a predator on the prowl. His jaw twitched and you would have done anything at that moment. He enjoyed the fact that the tough, untouchable girl looked pleadingly small with her big eyes, almost tearing up under his touch.

Quickly you nodded, gasping as he put more pressure directly on your clit and that's when he slid his index and middle fingers into your mouth. Greedily you sucked on it, circling it with your tongue as you would suck his dick and he grumbled:

"Fuck... You're way too sexy for your age."

Satisfied, you took his fingers all the way down your throat and bobbed your head until his pants were so tight it hurt.

"On your knees, princess!" he commanded, just as he commanded his employees, but with a hint of softness in his voice that immediately made you sink to the ground.

The sight made him tense as you knelt on your knees before him, tits out, lips plush and red, eyes sparkling with arousal.

He opened his pants, pushed them down along with his boxers, and sighed in relief when his hard dick finally sprung free.

You got wide-eyed, trembling at the size and doubting you could take it.

He took it in his hand, stroked himself a few times before saying with a slight grin:

"Suck my dick and maybe I'll consider fucking you senseless."

You put a hand around his base and first licked the bit of precum off his tip before licking the length of his massive dick once. He watched stunned as you wrapped your lips around his tip and began to move your head evenly. Each time you took him deeper until you were quietly gagging. The warmth and wetness of your mouth made him gasp and he buried one hand in your hair. The other landed on the hood with a loud clap as he guided your head to thrust deep into your throat. You couldn't breathe, his length teasing the back of your throat. Tears welled up in your eyes as his speed increased and he thrust ruthlessly into your mouth. The little sinful noises you made, the choking, the whimpering only turned him on more until he fucked your mouth roughly, hand tugging your hair and he gasped deeply breathless.

"So good for me... Taking my cock like a slut. Fuck," he murmured, and you pressed your thighs together to soothe the moist heat a bit.

Your throat ached, as did your knees from the gravel floor, and yet there was this insatiable arousal. His curses became throatier and heavier as he was about to cum. He thrust deep into your throat a few more times until your nose bumped against the soft fuzz on his lower belly and you gagged with narrowed eyes.

Then he came and his hot cum shot into your mouth, leaving you gasping and struggling for breath as you swallowed it all.

He pulled his still rock hard dick out of your mouth with a plop and the corners of his mouth twitched as saliva and his cum made your lips glisten.

With his thumb he brushed away a few remnants and hummed animatedly as you licked them from his finger.

He offered you a hand and helped you back to your feet, where he gently brushed the sweaty hair from your forehead and removed the smeared makeup from under your eyes with his hands. The sudden caring was a strange contrast after he had just abused your face so violently.

But the heat between your legs was by now so unbearable that you whimpered softly.

He noticed how you rubbed your legs together, smiled knowingly and kissed your lips lovingly.

"For sucking my cock that well, you should be rewarded..."

Happily, you pressed against him and nodded.

"Do you want to be rewarded, baby girl?" he asked, running his thumb over your nipple.

"Yes, Daddy."

The words came over your lips without you knowing how he would react. Surprised, he raised his eyebrows and with satisfaction you felt his dick twitching uneasily against your belly. He liked the nickname.

"Don't worry, Daddy will take care of your pretty little pussy," he growled and everything inside you cried out in anticipation.

That's when he spun you around, pressing you fast and hard onto the hood so that your hands banged loudly on it. Until your butt was raised and he pushed your legs apart with one foot so he had a better view of the wet spot between them.

"You think you can take my big cock? Have you ever had one this big?" he asked, hungry and full of desire as he pulled your panties down until he finally had a view of your shiny hole. Rattling your breath, you propped yourself up on the car and shook your head.

"Never. Never been fucked by such a big cock."

He nodded slowly, stroking his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness until you gasped desperately. Then, without warning, he pushed two fingers into you from behind, began pumping them inside you, curling them so they hit your sweet spot each time. Gasping, you tried to see straight, but his long fingers were too good, too deep, for you to even think clearly.

"Fuck you're tight. I think I might be gonna break you..." he murmured, but sounded like he was looking forward to it.

You couldn't take it any longer, reaching your hips out for him to finally fill you up. You needed his dick as the air to breathe, which is why you breathlessly said:

"Please break me, Daddy! Ruin me! Have it your way."

He laughed softly, pumping his fingers inside you a few more times until you rolled your eyes with a moan. Then he put his tip to your entrance, teasing you by running it through your lips, and murmured:

"If that's what the princess wants, I can hardly refuse her wish."

Your head went blank as he sunk into you. Your body cracked in half and your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he stretched you, painfully widening your walls while groaning loudly.

Your knees went weak, but he held you so tightly at the waist that you couldn't fall.

As he slowly pulled out again, and slammed into you again tears welled up in your eyes, and from your throat only ticked off sounds escaped you.

"You're crushing me.... Fuck..." he gasped, throbbing deep inside you.

"So... so big..." you moaned, and as he began thrusting fast inside you, the curses and words became an incomprehensible high-pitched mixture of sounds. Soon the pain mixed with pleasure and the night air was filled with the slap of his hips against your ass and the wet sound of your aching cunt coupled with your naughty noises and his muffled moans. Your cunt swallowed his length deeper and he never wanted to sink into another pussy again. Yours was made for him. Your body arched under him, your breasts pressed tightly against the hood of his car and his fingers so tight on your hips that imprints would be left by his hands. He thrust into you faster, harder, enjoying how your walls welcomed him and you crumbled beneath him.

Curses escaped him as you moaned his name like a mantra between the pornographic noises.

The coil in your belly ruptured with a loud pop and a wave of white pleasure swept you along. Your orgasm rolled over you like a tsunami wave, leaving you world fading and your body trembling.

Jang-Do cursed between clenched teeth as you nearly crushed him and after a few deep thrusts that made you see stars he came inside you too.

He extended his climax by thrusting sloppy into your sore pussy a few more times and then pulled his dick out of you. Strings of his white hot load pulled out of your cunt as it ran down your thigh and you remained motionless on the hood. Fucked out and cockdrunk. Your thoughts only returned in shreds. Control of your body only much later. You heard him zipping your pants and looking at his handiwork.

"So pretty... Filled up with my cum," he murmured, catching what leaked out of you with his fingers to push it back into your hole.

You moaned and your fingernails clawed into the hood as he finger fucked his cum back into your cunt.

"We don't want to waste anything," he murmured, then helped you put on your panties and dress.

You still couldn't say anything, your head was buzzing too much and your body was completely wrecked. He helped you into the car. This time into the passenger seat and only when he sat next to you, slipping the key into the ignition, did you look at him. Your makeup was ruined, as was your hair, but Jang-Do could never look away. He had never seen anything more beautiful than your swollen lips, your tear stained cheeks, and the feathery expression from the orgasm that reverberated across your face.

"My dad will kill you if he finds out."

Your voice still sounded brittle, your throat felt sore.

He let the engine rev and pulled back onto the road.

"Then I hope he won't find out. But that's your decision."

His gaze was on the road, his handsome mouth contorted contentedly into a smirk. He placed his fate in your hands, just as you had revealed your soul and body to him. In doing so, he proved that he did not take it lightly. It had meaning. And he would pay with his life if it depended on it.

You nodded slowly and leaned back in your seat. The streets were empty so late and your eyelids grew heavy.

The silence was comfortable and you reached for his hand that lay loosely between you. Surprised, he gave you a quick glance as you placed it on your thigh, but then he closed his fingers around your soft flesh.

He accompanied you to your front door and gave you a curt nod before turning to leave, but you held him back by the arm. Questioning, he turned back to you and saw you smiling warmly.

With your hands firmly on his chest, you kissed him. It was more the promise of a kiss. Your soft lips feather light on his, barely a second before you pulled back and opened the door. Before you could disappear inside, your eyes met and your cheeks grew hot again.

"See you tomorrow," he said goodbye, memorizing every detail once more before the door would slam shut.

The line of your shoulders, the shape of your cupids bows, the shape of your legs under the hem of your dress.

Tomorrow you would meet again and today would never have happened. This was important to both of your survival and yet it didn't feel final.

"See you tomorrow," you murmured. Your voice sweet as caramel. He nodded curtly, turned, and before he could walk the long stone path to the mansion's exit, you stopped him once more:

"Jang-Do?"

He turned to you again, as he had so many times before.

"Huh?"

You leaned your temple against the door and said:

"Turn your cell phone on loud tomorrow night. You might have to work overtime again."

The corners of his mouth lifted slowly and he walked backward a few steps, a knowing gleam in his eye. Respectfully, he tilted his head and you thought you could really get used to the sincere smile.

"Understood."

You waited until he was out of sight and the engine of his car died away somewhere in the distance. Then you pulled the door shut, freezing as you felt the cool tiles beneath the soles of your feet.

A giggle escaped you in the darkness of the hallway as you realized you had left your shoes in Jang-Do's trunk.

--

© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[angeltreasure]

“Stojan Adasevic, a Serbian abortionist when Serbia was still a communist country, managed to kill 48,000 children in utero in his 26 years as a purveyor of death.

Sometimes up to 35 per day.

But that's all on the past, as Stojan is now one of Serbia's most important pro-life voices.

As explained in a recent interview with the Spanish daily newspaper, La Razon:

The medical textbooks of the Communist regime said abortion was simply the removal of a blob of tissue. Ultrasounds allowing the fetus to be seen did not arrive until the 1980s, but they did not change his opinion. Regardless of what he believed, or thought he believed, Stojan began to have nightmares.

In describing his conversion to La Razon, Adasevic "dreamed about a beautiful field full of children and young people who were playing and laughing, from four to 24 years of age, but who ran away from him in fear. A man dressed in a black and white habit stared at him in silence. The dream was repeated each night and he would wake up in a cold sweat.

One night Stojan asked the man in black and white in his frightening dream as to his identity.

"My name is Thomas Aquinas," he responded. Stojan, educated in communist schools that pushed atheism instead of real learning, didn't recognize the Dominican saint's name.

Stojan asked the nightly visitor, "Who are these children?"

"They are the ones you killed with your abortions," St. Thomas told him bluntly and without preamble.

Stojan awoke in shock and fear. He decided he would refuse to participate in any more abortions.

Unfortunately, that very day in which he made his decision, one of his cousins came to the hospital with his four months-pregnant girlfriend―they had hoped for an abortion. Apparently, it wasn’t her first which is not uncommon in countries of the Soviet bloc.

Stojan reluctantly agreed, but, instead of the usual Dilation and Curettage (D&C) Method in which the fetus is torn apart with the use of a hook shaped knife called a curette, he decided to chop it up and remove it as a single mass.

Horrifically and providentially, his little cousin's heart came out still beating.

It was then that Dr. Adasevic realized that he had indeed killed a human being.

Stojan immediately notified his hospital that he would no longer perform abortions.

No physician in communist Yugoslavia had ever before refused to perform an abortion. The hospital and government's reaction was swift and severe.

His salary was cut in half and his daughter was immediately fired from her job. In addition, Stojan's son wasn't allowed to matriculate into the state university.

After many years of surviving the many privations orchestrated by pro-abortion/pro-death fundamentalist atheist government, Stojan was about to buckle under the pressure and give into its demands.

Fortunately, Stojan had another dream about St. Thomas.

St. Thomas assured Stojan of his friendship and Stojan was in turn inspired.

The physician became involved in the pro-life movement in Yugoslavia. In fact, he was able to get the state-run Yugoslav television station to twice broadcast Bernard Nathanson's anti-abortion film The Silent Scream.

Since then, Stojan has told of his anti-abortion stance and his reversion to the Orthodox faith of his childhood to newspapers and television stations throughout Eastern Europe. In fact, he has a strong devotion to St. Thomas Aquinas and is rarely, if ever, without the saint's books―his constant reading material.

Stojan often reminds his listeners that in his Summa Theologiæ, St. Thomas wrote that human life begins forty days after fertilization. Perhaps, Stojan would opine, "the saint wanted to make amends for that error."

Today Stojan continues to fight for the lives and rights of the unborn.”

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Jojolands 13: Ohana Means I'll Set Your Ass on Fire

Dragona dropping some great truth about the absurd in this bizarre adventure. We finally got a peak behind that mask. I love it and I hate it, if you've read the chapter already you know what I mean. We'll get to that, because this right here isn't spoilery and it was such a cool nugget.

I love the way Dragona talks about the "absurd." Chance moments that alter one's life for better or for worse. The things that just don't make sense. Especially paired with Dragona opining about nearly losing their heart in the same chapter that last part about hearts being destroyed hits hard. I'm definitely sure we're looking at a trans narrative here and one we'll see play out. The chapter does a good job of implying what we need to know. Nudges at an early theory you've been changing your body with Smooth Operator. We ready? What follows is no place for beginners or sensitive hearts:

Oh HELL yes! As if I needed a reason, these two were well on their way to top Jojo status and now the dynamic duo of the Joestar Siblings are definitely there. Mean girl sets her sights on a much more timid Dragona who we now know looked way more masculine at 14 than 18. Talking physical build and not just fashion. You know, I don't expect an 18yo to have all that figured out and with this I do think we'll see her keep coming into her own. But holy shit that was fucked up and I sincerely hope we can get through the rest of this with no more sexual assault on my Jojos blorbo.

If they do...Jodio will fuck you up. Set a whole damn bus on fire! And while I'm not looking forward to having to relive the impetus in the inevitable anime adaptation, since we've already had the cop I kinda like the perpetrator being a girl here. For one because it shows a side of this kind of bigotry that often goes underrepresented. You see a little more space made typically for trans men who had bad experiences with men prior to coming out, largely because it tends to overlap with those who found a comfortable half-step in something like a radical feminist group. But this sets up Dragona pretty well for a realistic other side of the coin to that. Your experiences with bullying might make you a little skittish of girls your age, you keep a foot in this criminal world even if we keep showing you (not unlike Okiku) as someone who doesn't fit super well, all this would certainly explain why you'd gravitate towards a figure like Meryl Mei. Why there's great potential for drama if she shows a nastier side. It's all great for a trans story that justifies still figuring yourself out through it...but sticks to a fairly realistic path for a lot of young women who find themselves running with gangs.

All that said, Jodio you absolute freak. Burning the whole bus is metal, it's scruffy, he's protecting family. Doooooope. These two are fantastic and I can't wait to explore their story, their dynamic more. Jodio & Dragona's sibling bond is the beating heart of this part. As much as I love Kiku/Izo & Killua/Alluka yeah this is gonna be a banger. Speaking of, this chapter was also the second time we nudged at Jodio getting shit for looking fey too. These two are ride or die for each other and their awesome mom Barbara Ann. How this all ties into their family falling apart and their desire to become filthy rich? No need to ask...

In lighter news. They. When Meryl learns of the other lava rock that got smashed. We're all clear on who's the brains and who's the firepower in the dynamic duo right? I trust Meryl as far as I can throw her and she's a big lady. But for now everything seems on the up-and-up. Charmingman seems to have passed the sniff test and yeah it looks like he's just going to hang around. I like this new setup. Scouting a shadowy company to see if we can get more lava rock.

All in all one of the best chapters of Jojolands so far. I'm loving it, this is the exact direction I hoped it'd go. The backstory made this pretty heavy and I hope we can have more fun with this gang on the new excursion.