#public complaint resolution

[townpostin]

Saryu Roy Slams Electricity Dept, Raises School Admission Issues

MLA criticizes unsafe power practices, questions RTE implementation in Jamshedpur Jamshedpur East MLA Saryu Roy voiced concerns over electricity safety and school admissions for BPL children at a Disha meeting. JAMSHEDPUR – At a Disha committee meeting, MLA Saryu Roy criticized unsafe electrical practices and raised issues about BPL children’s school admissions. During a District Development…

[officialmahmoudsaad]

Online Outrage? 5 Steps to Resurrect Your Brand's Reputation

In the digital age, your brand’s online reputation is its lifeblood. But one misstep, scandal, or even just a string of bad reviews can send your carefully cultivated image crashing down. So, what do you do when your brand is facing online outrage? Don’t panic! Here are 5 key steps to navigate the choppy waters and steer your reputation back to shore: 1. Face the Facts: First things first,…

[oatmealwrites]

JJK Mens' New Year Sex Resolutions!

(fem. reader )

The 2025 resolutions of your favorite JJK men! How they want to start the new year with a bang!

Characters: Nanami Kento, Choso Kamo, Geto Suguru, Gojo Satoru, Higuruma Hiromi, Ryomen Sukuna

Tags: p in v, orgasm, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (m & f receiving), public sex, car sex, lazy sex, anal, rimjobs, fingering, blindfolded, nudes, cuck, 18+, MDNI, NSFW

A/N: not proofread, just threw this together hehe

masterlist

HAPPY NEW YEAR

~~~~~~~~~

Nanami Kento - Public Sex

You and Nanami have a routine and regular sex life that fits perfectly into both of your schedules. It’s final exam week at your uni and you’re stressed? He’s already checked your exam schedule and makes sure to fuck you senseless as soon as you’re home from the last final. He has a big project due at work soon? You already know he can spare 15 minutes to have you suck him off in the home office! The resolution to make it even better? More public sex!

This is because you and Nanami have already banged against every orifice in your apartment. He’s already filled you up with his cum in a mating press on the living room floor next to the coffee table.

Public Sex is his resolution because while yes, he loooves to take his time with you, taking the initiative is something he wants to get better at. In the car on the way to a big presentation: he’d love to empty his balls into your cute little mouth. At the mall and trying on a new dress: let’s see how it looks from below when you ride his face in the large dressing room stall.

The thought of being caught and ruining the ‘put together’ facade is enough to make his cock twitch painfully in his slacks. When he sees you hop in his car wearing the sluttiest little skirt, that you swear you didn't know showed off your panties when you bend over, would be hiked up to your waist while you ride him in the back seat. (of course the car is parked… in the parking lot of your uni ;) ) 

Overall, Nanami will still take his time with you and be the perfect gentleman he is…. He just wants to show you how much you mean to him in the moment as well. Fogged car windows and dressing room noise complaints are in your sex future for 2025!

Choso Kamo - Nudes

You and Choso have a very passionate and playful sex life that’s incredibly fulfilling. He’s a gamer (headcanon) and loves when you tease him while he’s on the mic with his friends (Inumaki and Yuji always make fun of him). Choso gets so hard he has to mute his mic and listen to his friends make fun of his shitty KDA while he’s balls deep in your pussy while you ride him. You also loveee the way he’s always trying to learn about you and your body better; he literally begs you to let him finger and eat you out because he wants to be the best boyfriend ever! So what could make your sex life better than extending it to photos and videos!

He of course would never make you send something you didn’t want to do (fucking you irl is best the thing ever anyways) … he’d be fine sending you nudes even if you didn’t reciprocate.

BUT, if you did want to partake and send Nudes …

He would get so hard seeing a ‘ping’ on discord and opening it to a photo of your hard nipples through your baby t-shirt. Or imagine you’re at work/cramming for exams and you get an audio message of him moaning your name while he’s jerking himself off. Choso would go ahead and buy the 2TB storage of Google Photos to make room for everything. Every photo he sends of his painful erection in gray sweatpants would be favorited, and every lingerie mirror selfie you send goes straight to ‘my eyes only’. (let him take your photo after he cums on your tits and he’ll even consider buying a ring for your pretty little finger)

Even if you two travel or spend the night with friends, there will always be a steamy video/photo/audio waiting in your messages to keep you company. Messages with the subject ‘don’t open in public’ are in your sex future for 2025!

Geto Suguru - Anal

Ok so to start, you and Suguru are very content with your current sex life as is. There is no better feeling than the delicious sting of his cock splitting you open while fucks you drunk, and no better sight than seeing his hot cum spilling out your weeping cunt. Suguru never oversteps a boundary, grateful to have you in his life through every dark and depressing moment he has; and you’re so lucky to have a boyfriend that would literally destroy the entire world if it made you happy.

That being said, whenever he has you in doggy, he can’t help but look at the other puckering hole. He swears it winks at him. In 2025, it would start naturally: by him just dragging a finger on your rim, and him casually licking lower to graze your asshole every time he eats you out. If you notice and call him out, he would act casually that he was curious and would stop right away if you were uncomfortable. 

BUT, if you’re into it and want to explore that side? He’s more than enthusiastic to try Anal. Suguru would purchase more than enough lube to coat one finger and work its way into your ass while the other hand rubs circles on your clit to keep you stimulated. Words of praise leave his lips with every act; he’s only quiet when you let him eat out both holes. (he would also consider letting you eat his ass… it happens when you’re sucking his cock and your finger grazes his balls and asshole… it makes his mind open a bit)

If you get to the point you want him to fuck you that way, he’s so slow and patient with you. Enough lube to turn the bed into a slip and slide, and vibrator on your clit to keep you on edge, Suguru would start out slow before fucking you into the mattress. His new favorite sight is seeing his hot cum seep out of your cunt and ass while you’re wearily panting from such intense orgasms. 

Water-based lube and small butt plugs are in your sex future for 2025!

Gojo Satoru - Lazy Sex

Ok, hear me out, because Satoru is so damn busy all the time, and despite his carefree attitude, he would want some slow sex in 2025. He’s constantly traveling for jobs, ‘educating the youth’, and running the household of his own family, so a lot of times this leads to passionate and intense sex whenever the moment arises. Fucking in the backseat of a car (with the divider up, so there’s some privacy), while Ichiji is trying not to crash at the sounds of moans filling the air, sucking him off with only 10 minutes to spare before his next meeting, and riding his face while Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara blow up his phone asking what the next lesson is. It’s amazing, but exhausting.

Neither of you are unsatisfied, but this year he wants to take his time.

Lazy Sex applies to the soft side Satoru has (which most people in his life forget about considering he's constantly viewed as only a weapon).

2025 will bring slow sex in bed on Sunday mornings before either of you get up. Soft kisses on the back of your neck while his erection grinds into your ass, Satoru would hike your leg up and slide in. Lazy thrusts, open mouth kisses, and light praises make up the scene; the gentle sunlight on your face when you cum is enough to make Satoru’s heart do backflips. 

Lazy sex would also be riding him in your shared apartment, movie on the television, and dinner ready on the table but long forgotten. He’d hold your gaze and whimper everytime you praised him and acknowledged how good he was making you feel. Though his schedule rarely allows it, Satoru would love slow sex with tooth-rottingly sweet aftercare. Cuddles and slow kisses with limbs intertwined, a quiet moment with you could satiate him for a lifetime.

With Satoru, fuzzy throw blankets and warm baths together post-fuck are in your sex future for 2025!

Higuruma Hiromi - Blindfold

Higuruma and you have a great sex life currently, making time for each other in between work and daily activities; you’re both super satisfied. He loves when you ride his face and rut against his slutty nose, creating moans from your lips so angelic he’s sure this is heaven. And despite his attentive nature to you, the way he bullies his cock into your cunt has you wondering if he secretly hates you. 

This year, he wants to try something new..well, new in the bedroom. Everyone knows justice is blind… so why not bring that into the bedroom with a Blindfold in 2025?

He approaches you with his satin black tie one evening, awkwardly wondering if he could cover your pretty eyes while you two had sex. What you weren’t expecting was the way every sensation was heightened. Each thrust of his cock into your snug cunt had his cock kissing your cervix so much better than it ever felt before. Seeing his cum drip out of your pussy from the mating press you were currently in, your eyes still covered as pants escaped your lips, have Higuruma ready for round 2 or 3/4/5/6..

After using his tie on you, it doesn’t take much convincing to use it on him. At first he’s a cheater, lifting up the fabric to watch the way your tits bounce as you ride him into oblivion; he only stops when you pry his hands away from his face. The pleasure of the sensation has him wondering why you both hadn’t tried this sooner! Though of course he still likes to watch your eyes roll back in your skull when his cock splits you open… so maybe he can use his tie to tie you up? Maybe in 2026…

With Higuruma, get ready for satin ties and blindfolds in your sex future for 2025. 

Ryomen Sukuna - Live Studio Audience!

Now, Sukuna is a man with a big ego (and big cocks), so he’s always trying to find new ways to make your mind drunk in pleasure. Any position is ok with him, and he’s not threatened by sex toys… though if you cum, it HAS to be on his fingers, tongue, or cock. So when you’re already fucking in public areas and in the privacy of your home… what else is there than to bring someone else to the scene with a Live Studio Audience.

This isn’t a three-some, there’s no one else you need to satisfy your desires anyways, it’s a cuck. The idea of having someone else walk in while he’s balls deep in your cunt turns him on more than he would like to admit. A third party watching the way you come undone from his touch feeds Sukuna’s ego even more.

But if you were genuinely mortified, he wouldn’t keep leaving the door unlocked (on purpose). Sukuna also genuinely enjoys having his alone time with you; it’s nice to get away from the stupidity of everyone else and just ravish you for an evening. BUT, when he’s jealous or especially needy, having someone watch the way he’s ruining your cunt turns him on more than he’d ever admit. (never Yuji or Jin though… he’d rather die than his family watch the way he’s about to continue the bloodline)

With Sukuna, unlocked doors and a chair conveniently facing the bed are in your sex future for 2025.

this is my first post like this! lmk if you like this style in addition to longer fics and one-shots! (also idk where this idea even came from, i had 5 hours till ball drop and decided why not)

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated

happy new years everyone! ╰(´︶`)╯♡

-oatmeal

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content. unprotected sex, creampie, size kink, oral fixation (implied), possessive language, mild marking (biting), dom!chan, desperate sex, praise kink, loss of contact, emotionally charged one-night stand, bodily fluids (cum/slick mention), heavy detail/descriptive intimacy, public/semi-public sex setting (lounge)

⍣ ೋ notes: so this is pretttttttttty late i'm soso sorry 😭i kinda hate it actually but this was the best i could do :(

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT Filed by: Concierge Aeryn Subject: Staff Conduct –Lost Number Staff Member Under Review: General Manager Chan Requested by: Guest (Room 330) Requested Resolution: Formal Investigation & Internal Service Memo

INT. SKZOTEL – GENERAL MANAGER'S OFFICE – EVENING

The knock on Bang Chan’s office door is almost courteous — two sharp taps — but the way Aeryn steps inside without waiting for permission strips it of any real politeness.

Chan doesn’t look up right away. He's hunched over his desk, flipping a pen between his fingers like it's a stress ball, a muscle ticking at his jaw.

The pink clipboard in Aeryn’s hand wobbles slightly as she waves it in the air. “I have a guest complaint for you, Mr. Bang.”

That gets his attention. His head snaps up, eyes narrowing immediately.

“If it's about Jeongin again, I already handled it,” Chan mutters, voice tight.

“Oh no,” Aeryn says lightly, stepping further into the office. She sets the clipboard down just out of his reach. “This one’s about you.”

Chan freezes.

Aeryn beams, all professionally sweet, the kind of smile that would’ve scared a smarter man. “Shall I read it aloud? It’s quite the compliment to your…prior performance.”

Chan drags a hand down his face. “Aeryn—”

“She specifically mentioned how delightful Mr. Yang Jeongin was. Very charming, very professional.” Aeryn taps the clipboard like she’s punctuating every word. “Unlike a certain general manager, who, in her words, was ‘terse, unprofessional, and suffering from misplaced jealousy.’”

Chan looks like he’s either going to throw himself out the window or flip the desk over.

“I wasn’t jealous,” he grits out. “I was—” He waves a hand, searching for the words like they might save him. “Protecting staff integrity.”

“Ah yes.” Aeryn folds her arms, deadpan. “That’s why you glared at the guest like you were about to throw her over your shoulder and lock her in your office.”

Chan mutters something that sounds suspiciously like a threat in his Australian accent.

Aeryn lets him stew for a moment, savoring it. Then, almost kindly, she leans in.

“She remembers you, you know,” she says, voice lower now. “Not just from the spa.”

Chan’s shoulders stiffen.

He doesn't say anything.

Aeryn straightens up, smoothing her blazer like she’s just finishing a performance. “For what it’s worth, she requested an early check-out.” She tilts her head, considering. “Although she did suggest that perhaps if you’d been more diligent in securing your…contact information, none of this would’ve been necessary.”

Chan slouches back in his chair like the world has personally wronged him.

“I didn’t forget her,” he mutters under his breath.

“Misplaced her number, then?” Aeryn supplies helpfully.

He scowls. 

Aeryn can’t help it. She laughs — a short, sharp sound that makes Chan look even more miserable.

“I’ll file the formal investigation report,” she says brightly.

With a final, polite smile, she scoops up the clipboard and turns to leave, heels clicking smartly against the marble floor.

Chan slouches even lower in his chair once she’s gone, staring at the ceiling like it personally betrayed him.

And the worst part?

He can still feel her — the guest — the ghost of her hands on him, the sound of her laughing in his ear, the way she whispered her number against his mouth and he’d sworn he’d remember it just by taste.

______________________________________________________________

The bar is half-empty, dimly lit, and blessedly quiet — a rare luxury.

Chan sits slouched at the end of it, tie loosened, shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He hasn’t taken a full breath all day. The meetings ran over, the contracts weren’t ready, the staff kept screwing around, and every time he closes his eyes, he sees the bright pink edge of Aeryn’s clipboard like a migraine warning.

He exhales slow, rolling his neck with a soft crack, and downs the rest of his whiskey like it’s water. It burns, but it’s a good burn. Controlled. Predictable. Nothing like the mess in his head.

His phone buzzes.

He doesn’t check it.

He’s already gone over tomorrow’s schedule six times and it’s not going to change: back-to-back meetings, supplier drama, some guest requesting complimentary crystals in her mattress for “vibration alignment” — whatever the fuck that means.

He gestures for another drink.

The bartender knows him. Says nothing. Just pours.

The moment stretches, soft and slow, until the door swings open behind him—quiet, but enough to shift the weight of the room.

Chan doesn’t look up at first. He doesn’t need to.

He feels you walk in.

Not because of the sound. Not because of the sudden lift in perfume in the air. But because something in him—tight and strung out from the day—pulls tauter, as if he’s already being watched.

He turns his head lazily, more reflex than curiosity.

And there you are.

The lights are low, but they catch on the slope of your cheek, the shine at your collarbone. You walk in like you know exactly where you’re going but aren’t in any rush to get there—coat draped over one arm, heels quiet against the floor, gaze flicking once around the room before it lands on him.

It lingers.

Not long. But long enough.

His chest pulls tight without meaning to.

There’s nothing showy in the way you move. Nothing loud. Just... controlled. Like you’ve done this before. Like you’ve already decided what kind of night it’s going to be.

You slide into a seat three stools down. Not beside him. But close.

The bartender greets you with quiet familiarity, asks if you want the usual. You say not tonight. Something different. Something stronger.

Chan lets his eyes drop back to his drink—but only for a second. He can see your reflection in the mirror behind the bar, the curve of your lips as you speak, the way your fingers toy with the base of the glass when it arrives.

And then, like clockwork, your gaze meets his in the mirror.

Not coy.

Not shy.

Just intentional.

And when he doesn’t look away, neither do you.

Something shifts in his chest. Heavy. Immediate.

Then you smile.

Subtle. Barely there. But it lands like a spark to dry wood.

Chan feels it catch.

And he doesn’t even try to put it out.

______________________________________________________________

You don’t remember how you got here.

Or rather, you do — it’s just hard to focus on anything when Bang Chan is buried inside you, deep and deliberate, grinding his cock into you like he wants to stay there.

Like he owns it now.

You're still half-dressed. Your panties are somewhere across the room, his shirt is open, and your dress is bunched up around your waist, straps slipping down your arms. His belt hangs loosely from one of your wrists — not tight, not binding, but reminding — and your thighs are spread wide over his lap, his hands splayed across your ass, pulling you down with every roll of his hips.

He’s not fucking you.

He’s fucking into you — slow, deep, so obscenely wet with your arousal that you’re embarrassed at how loud it sounds in the quiet room.

And he hasn’t looked away. Not once.

You try to breathe through it, but every time he thrusts up, it knocks your breath out again — gasping, stuttering, breaking.

“God, baby,” he rasps, jaw clenched tight. “You’re dripping down my cock. Look at this mess.”

You look. You shouldn’t. But you do.

Glance down and see where your bodies meet — where his cock disappears into you again and again, coated in slick, strings of it catching when he pulls out slow just to watch you clench around nothing.

Your head falls back with a choked moan.

Chan watches it—eyes locked on the exposed line of your throat, the slack of your lips, the tremble in your thighs where you straddle him. He shifts his grip, one hand gripping the swell of your ass, the other sliding up your spine until it’s fisted in the fabric clinging to your shoulder blades, keeping you there.

He’s buried so deep you can feel him in your ribs. Thick and pulsing, soaked in slick. The roll of his hips is slow, deliberate, filthier than anything rushed—he fucks into you like he’s savoring every stretch, every obscene, wet sound your cunt makes around him.

You can feel how wet you are. It’s everywhere. Slick coats your thighs, pools where your bodies meet, dripping down his balls with every bounce of your hips—every grind he guides you through with bruising hands and an unforgiving rhythm.

He shifts again, pulling you down hard as he thrusts up deep. Your body jerks, mouth falling open in a whimper that’s swallowed by the hot press of his mouth on your skin—tongue dragging slow across your collarbone before his teeth sink in.

The bite makes you cry out—sharp and breathless—and Chan growls against your skin in response, the sound low and fucking filthy. His cock twitches deep inside you as he grinds up, slow and thick and relentless, like he wants to live inside the mess he’s made.

He shifts again, pulling you down hard as he thrusts up deep, and your entire body jerks, a sharp “ah—!” punched out of your chest, spine arching like he just split you in two.

Chan grunts low and deep in your ear, the kind of sound dragged straight from the gut. “Shit… just like that.”

His cock is thick, stretching you wide, the slow grind of his hips forcing you to take him again and again, all the way to the base, until you’re stuffed full and pulsing around him. You’re soaked—soaked—slick squelching loudly with every bounce of your hips, your arousal smearing all the way down to his thighs.

The room is filled with it. Nothing but your broken breathing, his labored grunts, the wet, filthy sound of your pussy clenching around his cock like it never wants to let go.

“F-Fuck—Chan—” your voice breaks, almost a sob, and your nails dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself.

His teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder with a groan. “This pussy,” he pants against your skin, “is so fucking greedy. Keeps suckin’ me in like it’s starving.”

Another wet slap, and you yelp—head thrown back, mouth open around a high, needy “hah—ngh, fuck!”

He loves that. Gathers your hair in one hand, jerks your head back so he can watch your face twist in pleasure as he starts thrusting faster, harder—each drag of his cock so heavy, so deep, you can feel the air being punched out of you in whines.

Your thighs are shaking, your cunt fluttering around him as your orgasm creeps back, fast and brutal. Every thrust is met with a soaked, messy squelch, your slick now streaming down to the ruined cushions below.

“Listen to that,” he growls, grinding deep. “You fucking hear yourself?”

You do. You can’t not..

Your cries go high and soft—“ah—Chan—”—and your body jerks in time with the rhythm, collapsing into him when his fingers find your clit and rub fast, merciless.

“You gonna come for me again?” he pants. “Yeah? Gonna soak my cock like a good girl?”

“Y-Yeah—please, please—!”

It hits hard.

You come with a scream—your whole body locking down on him, cunt spasming, gushing slick across his lap in wet, audible spurts. You cry through it, moaning sharp and high with every pulse.

“Fucking hell,” he growls, hips stuttering. “You’re milking me—gonna fuckin’—fuck—”

His grip turns bruising, both hands clutching your hips now as he thrusts up into your pulsing cunt, chasing the last seconds of your orgasm—wet, fluttering, still squeezing the cum out of him before he even finishes.

The first twitch of his cock inside you makes him curse—loud and ruined—and then he’s coming hard, slamming into you one final time, buried to the hilt as he empties himself with a ragged moan.

“Ah—fucking shit, baby—take it—”

Thick ropes of cum fill you deep, each twitch pumping more inside until you're full and dripping, the heat of it spilling out around his cock and down your thighs in hot, messy streams.

You whimper, broken and overwhelmed, thighs trembling as your cunt clenches through the aftershocks—still needy, still twitching even with him buried inside you, keeping every last drop in.

He slumps forward, chest slick with sweat against yours, breath hot against your cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” he pants. 

You hum, dazed, fingers threading weakly into his damp hair as his hips roll slow again—languid, filthy, grinding his softening cock through the mess between your legs.

And it is a mess. You feel it—his cum leaking out of you in heavy drips, your slick coating his thighs, the cushions, your skin tacky with it.

“So fucking good for me,” he murmurs against your throat, dragging his fingers through the mess between your legs. 

You whine when he pushes two fingers back inside—shallow, spreading your cum-slick folds with a wet shlk as he watches more of his release spill out around them.

“Look at that,” he groans.

You can’t respond—your voice gone, body limp, completely ruined. And Chan loves it. Stays there, buried deep, pressing kisses to your collarbone like he didn’t just fuck you stupid in a lounge, like he didn’t just wreck you so thoroughly you can’t even remember your own name.

He stays buried for a long time.

Still twitching, still thick inside you, softening slowly with every breath that passes. The room is humid with sweat, slick, sex. Your bodies fused by the filth between you, the mess he’s left inside you still trickling out around his cock in lazy, wet drips.

His fingers move lazily between your thighs again—spreading you open just to watch. Just to see the cream-white spill of him leaking from your stretched cunt, your folds still twitching from the aftershocks.

“Could stay like this,” he murmurs, voice hoarse, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “Fuck, I could stay inside you all night.”

You sigh softly, worn out and ruined and far too content for how wrecked you feel.

Chan shifts slowly, finally pulling out. You both groan at the loss—your pussy flexing around nothing, his cock dragging wet and heavy against your thigh, still sticky with your slick, his cum, sweat.

He leans back just enough to see your face, thumb brushing along your cheekbone, then down to your jaw, tilting your face up to his.

“Give me your number,” he says after a moment, his voice quieter now. Almost shy. Almost vulnerable.

You blink, a soft laugh catching in your throat.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, nodding. “I mean… how else am I gonna see you again?”

There’s something in the way he looks at you that makes your chest ache—like maybe he didn’t mean to want more, but he does now. Like maybe it snuck up on him between the way you screamed his name and how you didn’t ask for anything in return.

You reach past him, dragging your bag clumsily toward you with a shaky hand. Pull out a pen. A napkin.

He watches you scribble your number, eyes never leaving your face.

When you hand it to him, he folds it carefully. Tucks it into his back pocket like something sacred. His hand lingers there a second longer than it should, like he’s trying to anchor it—you—in place.

“I’m gonna call you,” he says, cocky but soft. “Tomorrow.”

You don’t tease him for it.

You just smile, a little lazy, a little satisfied. “I’ll answer.”

And for a while, you both just sit there. In the heat. In the quiet. In the after.

But later—

Later, when he’s back in his car, still smelling like you, still tasting you on his lips, hands shaking around the wheel like he can’t drive straight—

He reaches for his pocket.

And it’s empty.

He checks the other.

Then his wallet.

Then the floor.

Then the passenger seat

The napkin’s gone.

His heart punches hard in his chest, jaw clenched as he rifles through everything again, again, like maybe it’ll just reappear.

But it doesn’t.

All that’s left is the soreness in his thighs, the mess drying on his skin, and the ghost of your name echoing in his head like a song he already knows he’s going to forget.

And fuck—

He never even asked for your last name.

______________________________________________________________

INT. SKZOTEL SPA – EVENING

The spa is lit with soft ambient lights. Calming music plays faintly in the background. There’s a large hand-lettered sign taped to the eucalyptus diffuser: SPA TRIVIA NIGHT – Hosted by Your Favorite Masseuse 💆🏻‍♂️

JEONGIN (confessional): [He’s sitting cross-legged in a spa robe with a clipboard, trying very hard to look calm.] “Spa Trivia Night is a sacred SKZOTEL tradition. Or, well, it’s been a tradition for three months. I made it one. And everyone said they’d come this time if I brought snacks, so…”

[Cut to the refreshment table. There is exactly one bowl of pretzels and a half-full Brita filter.]

______________________________________________________________

INT. SPA FLOOR – MOMENTS LATER

JEONGIN stands in front of a whiteboard that says: “QUESTION 1: What is the difference between a Swedish massage and a deep tissue massage?”

The staff are loosely seated on beanbags and floor cushions. SEUNGMIN looks like he wants to die. FELIX is filing his nails. CHANGBIN is already halfway through the pretzels.

JEONGIN: “Okay! Question one. Please raise your hand, don’t shout—”

CHANGBIN: “Is one of them what Chan gave that guest in the lounge last week?”

[Loud laughter. CHAN makes a strangled noise.]

JEONGIN: “No—nope. No, we’re not doing that��”

MINHO (dryly): “What’s the difference between a deep tissue massage and being deeply in someone’s tissues, though?”

CHAN: “I will revoke your comped minibar, Lee Minho.”

MINHO: “Worth it.”

CHAN (confessional): [He’s sitting with arms folded, clearly unamused.] “Did I lose a napkin with a phone number on it? Yes. Did I forget to get her name? Also yes. Is that anyone’s business but mine? No. Absolutely not. ...Have I checked laundry for it? Also yes.”

Back on the floor, JEONGIN tries to regain control.

JEONGIN: “Let’s… let’s keep it spa-related, please? This is supposed to be relaxing. Educational. A safe space.”

HYUNJIN (stretching, dangerously casual): “Did she seem relaxed, though? The guest? Because she left very relaxed.”

CHAN: “Hyunjin.”

HYUNJIN: “I’m just saying. She walked out of here like she’d been realigned spiritually and physically.”

JEONGIN: “Please.”

FELIX: “Honestly, I respect it. I’ve been trying to get someone to rail me against the eucalyptus diffuser for weeks.”

SEUNGMIN: “Can you not say ‘rail me’ within ten feet of a scented candle?”

JEONGIN claps once. Too loud. Too desperate.

JEONGIN: “Okay! Lavender-scented trivia, not libido-scented trauma. Next question.”

[He glances at his laminated list. Regrets everything.]

JEONGIN: “What are the therapeutic benefits of exfoliation?”

MINHO (without missing a beat): “Emotional cleansing. Like when you scrub away a one-night stand by pretending it never happened.”

CHAN: “I will throw a hot stone at you.”

JISUNG: “I’d just like to say, I exfoliated my ass this morning and I feel amazing.”

SEUNGMIN (without looking up): “No one asked. Ever. In the history of time.”

______________________________________________________________

CUT TO: CONFESSIONAL

JEONGIN, now aggressively applying eucalyptus balm to his own temples.

JEONGIN: “I wanted one night. One single trivia night without a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting in the wings.”

[He breathes in. Holds it. Blinks.]

JEONGIN (more to himself): “Maybe next quarter.”

______________________________________________________________

Back in the spa, JISUNG raises his hand.

JISUNG: “Not to derail, but—can I get bonus points if I guess exactly where in the lounge the incident happened?”

CHAN: “No.”

JISUNG: “Because I have a theory.”

CHAN: “No.”

JISUNG (already standing): “So, the curvature of the velvet couch—”

CHAN: “Jisung. I swear to God.”

CHANGBIN (to Seungmin, deadpan): “Why didn’t he just take her to a guest room? Like a professional.”

______________________________________________________________

CUT TO: CONFESSIONAL

FELIX, twirling a marker, looking suspiciously angelic.

He pulls a folded napkin from his pocket.

FELIX: “Still haven’t decided what I’m gonna do with this. Part of me wants to return it like a loyal friend.”

[He grins.]

FELIX: “And part of me wants to rewrite it with Minho’s number and see what happens.”

[He tucks it back into his robe pocket.]

TEXT OVER BLACK:

"The spa is closed until Jeongin stops crying in the foot soak room. No refunds."

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix @dessianna1

[bethanydelleman]

New Year's Resolutions for Jane Austen Characters (mid-novel) Part 2

George Wickham: Marry a heiress. Stop gambling lol, as if, that's what marrying the heiress is for.

Lady Catherine: Convince Darcy to follow through with his duty and honour of marrying my daughter Anne. Learn pianoforte

William Collins: Continue in the esteem of my patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh in order to secure additional livings. My wonderful partner in life joins me in this goal.

Charlotte Collins: Convince husband to spend as much time in the garden as possible. Secure extra livings in order to gain more Mr. Collins-free time.

Georgiana Darcy: Practice harp at 10am sharp every day until fingering improves

Mrs. Jennings: Marry off every eligible girl within sight, beginning with the Miss Dashwoods.

Fanny Dashwood: 1. Suck up to mom to secure inheritance 2. Keep Edward & Elinor apart at all costs, 3. Hang out with this Steele girl to make Elinor jealous

John Willoughby: 1. Marry an heiress before my entire life explodes 2. Worm my way back into Mrs. Smith's good graces. 3. Marianne???

Sir John Middleton: 1. Go hunting 2. Host parties and balls 3. Make sure my tenants in Barton cottage are happy (Not actually goals, just what he does anyway)

Lady Middleton: Maintain the propriety of my great house and title while spoiling my children

John Thorpe: 1. Marry that rich heiress I so cleverly secured 2. Buy and sell horses for extravagant prices 3. Attend Belle & James's wedding (If I have time)

Isabella Thorpe: ❤️❤️❤️ Marry Captain Frederick Tilney ❤️❤️❤️

Jane Fairfax: *hands back the paper blank and blushes*

Frank Churchill: MARRY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE JANE FAIRFAX um, some girl I know. Don't tell my aunt, please

Mr. Elton & Mrs. Elton: keep being the hottest couple in Highbury *high five*

Dr. Grant: Eat a lot of yummy dinners (same goal since he was born)

Julia Bertram: Catch a better husband than Maria Keep partying with Maria

Mrs. Price: hire better servants, have Rebecca fix that carpet... I really have the worst servants in Portsmouth, it's a tragedy... (we cut off her complaints here)

William Price: MAKE LIEUTENANT

Sir Thomas: Finally figure out how to make Tom stay at home and do his duty as the eldest son. All the other kids are doing very well so I have nothing to improve there.

Sir Walter: There is nothing I would ever change about the amazing person that is myself.

Elizabeth Elliot: Marry Mr. Elliot and reestablish myself as the mistress of Kellynch

Lady Russell: encourage Anne to marry Mr. Elliot, read all new poetry publications

Mr. Elliot: Keep Sir Walter from marrying that vile seductress so I stay in the line of succession

Mrs. Clay: Marry Sir Walter, at all costs

Part 1

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Shannon Watts at Playing With Fire:

So, it’s been dismaying, to say the least, to watch too many Democratic leaders mostly fail to meet the moment after Donald Trump was reelected. Instead of speaking from a place of outrage, they’re going on Sunday cable shows and spewing consultant speak. Instead of pushing back on Trump’s reckless and dangerous orders, some are voting to pass his legislation and approve his cabinet picks. Instead of giving the 75 million voters who supported them their marching orders, they’re either ignoring us or sending emails asking for money.

Despite all of the warnings and the polling and the three-month planning period between the election and the inauguration, Democratic leaders decided to show up for a knife fight with a cheese stick. My anger about this finally came to a head after I read that seven Democrats had voted to confirm Kristi Noem as Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security. Noem, a Trump acolyte, has vowed to carry out Trump’s shameless and despicable mass migration operation. As I am wont to do when angry, I posted a rant online, which included this complaint: “…to watch Democrats make millions off of stock trades, cozy up to people they admitted were fascists, trade obligation for access, and play internal politics while democracy is destroyed is a disappointment I don't have words for.”

To be clear, my disappointment doesn’t mean I’m not a Democrat anymore. I continue to believe in the party’s platform, promise and potential. However, my experience as an activist has taught me that if voters demand a course correction, loudly and publicly, it can force change. For example, back in 2012, about a quarter of all Democrats in Congress had an A-rating from the NRA—until our volunteers started calling them out online and in real life. In Virginia, Sen. Mark Warner was voting for the gun lobby’s priority legislation. Our volunteers started showing up wherever he went, including fundraisers. At one such event, a group of women in our red shirts cornered the Senator inside someone’s home and told him they would not tolerate his allegiance to the NRA and would hold him accountable if he didn’t publicly separate himself from their agenda. Lo and behold, weeks later, Warner did exactly that, and an entire army of women in red shirts helped get him reelected in November. And he’s been on the right side of history ever since.

[...]

There’s nothing Democrats can do; we don’t any have power

You don’t have to have legislative power to oppose and protest; to educate and resist; to organize and galvanize supporters. In fact, it’s often easier to oppose than it is to lead. For example, Trump has essentially declared war on cancer patients by delaying the study-section meetings where grant money gets doled out to cancer studies. As a result, crucial research is likely to be delayed or abandoned due to a lack of funding. This arbitrary freeze is outrageous and Democrats shouldn’t wait for focus groups or polling or consultant input to create a campaign that calls out this betrayal of Americans, regardless of their political party. What would Trump do if he was the one in the opposition party? He’d concoct some kind of stunt to harness public attention and anger. He might draft resolutions, show up at lawmakers’ offices accompanied by cameras, or bring cancer patients and doctors to a press conference. In that same vein, Democrats should stop faxing wonky statements into the ether and start showing up where Americans are paying attention. As former White House communications staffer Aaron Huertes posted online, “Every Trump outrage is an opportunity to communicate core messages to different constituencies.”

Party leaders need to be less concerned about controlling the message and more invested in communicating authenticity to the broadest audience possible.

We’re letting Republicans hang themselves; Trump’s behavior is a distraction

Elder Democrats seem to think doing nothing will win them the midterm elections (just like they thought letting Roe v Wade get overturned would give them a blue wave). Obviously, we can cut our time in hell in half if we win the midterms, but that’s only IF THERE ARE EVEN MIDTERM ELECTIONS. Nothing is a given, and it isn’t safe to assume anything in this volatile political environment. As columnist Jamelle Bouie recently wrote, “It is not a distraction to vocally oppose Trump’s would-be nominees or highlight his extreme intentions. Democrats should look at every aspect of the next Trump administration as an opportunity to do, well, politics—to demonstrate their values and show the extent to which this president has no plan to pursue the public good. The quiet and supposedly responsible approach of the past four years is a dead end.

[...]

Call first, email second: Call your Senators and Representatives every single day to thank or shame them.

If the lawmaker you call is a Democrat who’s aiding and abetting the Republican agenda, say this: “As a rank-and-file voter and an American, I feel exposed, unprotected, and unsupported by Democratic leaders. It feels like [NAME OF LAWMAKER] is in hiding. I want to be given a plan for resisting and assurances that [NAME OF LAWMAKER] will stand up and fight.” If the lawmaker you call is a Republican, say: “I am being harmed by the Trump agenda and I demand [NAME OF LAWMAKER] stops kowtowing to the President and starts caring about his constituents.” I promise you, these calls matter! The whole reason 15 Republican Senators voted for the Bipartisan Safer Communities Act is because they received so many calls from constituents that they became concerned about the consequences of ignoring them. So, this week, call your lawmakers every day—regardless of political party—and in addition to telling them to act, demand they VOTE NO on cabinet nominees Kash Patel, Tulsi Gabbard and Robert F Kennedy.

[...]

Post online: Too many progressive people and groups are leaving social media spaces where they could be challenging Republican policy. After leaving Twitter/X in the post-Elon Musk era, groups like the ACLU, the Human Rights Campaign, and Planned Parenthood have ceded important ground to their opponents. My posts this week on Twitter and Bluesky went viral and led to calls from lawmakers, fellow activists, and reporters from major publications. People are paying attention and looking for someone to say what they’re thinking. Did I get blowback? Sure—some people told me not to criticize Democrats, others told me I’d conveniently ignored party issues for a decade, others suggested I’ve gone MAGA. I’ll live.

Love this post from Shannon Watts on Substack: Democrats need to show a spine and fight against Fascist Trump.

[eretzyisrael]

by Richard Goldberg

Anti-Semitism is spreading in K–12 school districts. Even in primary and secondary education, Jews are often viewed as privileged whites and oppressors, with Israel branded as an egregious example of “settler colonialism” and oppression of “indigenous people.” “Liberated ethnic studies” curricula, like the one mandated by California, have created a distinct variant of critical theory aimed at Jews for being Zionist colonial oppressors.

Teachers’ unions are the leading purveyors of this approach. Two years ago, the United Educators of San Francisco adopted a resolution calling for a boycott of Israel. The Chicago Teachers Union instigated pro-Hamas demonstrations in the Windy City after October 7. The union persuaded Chicago mayor Brandon Johnson (a former CTU lobbyist) to condemn Israel in the city council, and it organized a student and faculty “walkout” to show solidarity with Hamas—a city-authorized event that left Jewish students and teachers feeling intimidated. In suburban Seattle, kids as young as seven were recently encouraged to condemn Israel and join in anti-Semitic chants. Oakland Unified School District faces a federal investigation after 30 Jewish families removed their kids from school due to rampant anti-Semitism. And at a high school in New York City, hundreds of students hunted down a female teacher they saw on social media holding a sign supporting Israel.

Marxist ideology is the primary culprit influencing this mind-set, but not the only one. Qatar, a tiny Persian Gulf country that supports Hamas, is funding anti-Semitic “scholarship” not only in American universities but also in K–12 schools. Qatar Foundation International gave $1 million to the New York City Department of Education between 2019 and 2022 for a program featuring a map of the Middle East that erases the Jewish state. The same story played out at a public charter school in Irving, Texas. What other districts in the country might be taking money directly or indirectly from a chief Hamas sponsor? Brown University’s Choices Program, used by more than 1 million high school students nationwide, exhibits a clear anti-Israel bias. According to Brown, the Qataris “purchased and distributed a selection of existing Choices curriculum units to 75 teachers whose districts didn’t have funding to buy them.”

Tools to fight back, however, are available. Governors and state legislatures can begin by blocking “ethnic studies” from the K–12 curriculum and by imposing new teacher-certification requirements. To curb foreign meddling, states should ban school funding or in-kind donations from entities connected with countries that harbor U.S.-designated terrorist organizations. School districts and state boards of education should use the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s working definition of anti-Semitism to root out conduct meeting its standard. Several groups sued the Santa Ana, California, school district in state court for failing to notify parents before approving ethnic studies courses that contain anti-Jewish bias and for harassing Jewish parents at school board meetings.

At the federal level, parents could file formal complaints with the Department of Education for discrimination under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act. Such complaints are increasingly common against colleges and universities, but any school that receives federal funding must comply with Title VI. The House Committee on Education and the Workforce should consider holding a hearing on anti-Semitism in K–12 schools, putting the national spotlight on anti-Jewish administrators and school board leaders.

Local, state, and federal officials have played meaningful roles in fighting back against critical race theory in the classroom. They need to fight equally hard to stop anti-Semitism masquerading as Middle East or ethnic studies.

[ilminnestrone]

I'm asking you lewd shit: Genesis' specialty?

If you were to ask Genesis himself, he would wink mischievously and say that he was never breastfed as a baby, and spout some abstruse Freudian theory about it. Or he would pucker up, offering a playful demonstration. But there would be some truth in it.

The man and his oral fixation are well known, even in the most innocent of contexts: licking his index finger to turn pages, nibbling on any pencil within reach, sucking his lower lip when a particularly stupid statement irritates him. A fondness for any food that can be eaten with your hands, from a simple fruit to a juicy burger with chips (and licking the grease off his fingers is an integral part of the meal): not that he doesn't know how to behave, on the contrary, his mother taught him a strict etiquette from an early age. But even as a child, the small exceptions to the rule were an incomparable pleasure: a petit four. An olive. An oyster. A handful of blueberries. They made him feel rebellious and electrified.

Of course, he would deny sucking his thumb well into his teens and sometimes finding it in his mouth as an adult when deep in thought. Or the fact he wears gloves in public and spends shameful amounts of money on manicures to avoid torturing his cuticles with his teeth. What he will not deny is what those plump lips can do behind closed doors.

For starters, he’s the best kisser on Gaia and he knows it. An absolute tease who won’t give in even when you’re practically breathing into his mouth, lips already brushing against lips and eyes heavy-lidded. But once it's started, it's not easy to stop. He would make out for hours and it’s not even inherently sexual for him, it's a sensory stimulation to which he easily becomes addicted. He would kiss out of affection or boredom, to get attention, to win a spar, in the heat of the moment after a victory: he probably pecked half of his comrades out of joy or relief (and no one ever filed a complaint).

When his kisses have other aims, his intentions are more than clear. The fact is, those lips are so sensitive. He whines into kisses because of how good it feels.

But that is not the signal. The signal is when his mouth begins to wander elsewhere, from chin to throat to ears. When he brings the lucky person's fingers to his lips and begins to kiss and suck them one by one. When his teeth begin to sink into the folds of their clothes. His tongue becomes a sense organ like a snake, tasting his lover's scent as he slowly makes his way towards the most coveted prize.

It is there that his full potential is unleashed. He doesn't care what he finds in your pants. He devours it. Consumes it. He explores every crevice with slow kisses just to find out what's the perfect combination to make you go insane before he gets to the real action. The room fills with the most obscene, wet, smacking sounds, and he would moan against his lover's skin as he was  the one getting eaten. He can take you to the edge in minutes, just a single lick away from release and stop just to see you whine in frustration. Or keep on going, relentlessly, even after after the pleasure has subsided into overstimulation, pinning legs or wrists in place as they shake uncontrollably, chuckling even with his mouth full as you start crying that it’s too much, that you just can't come again, to just give you a minute.

He won’t. He’s still hungry. Even with his face completely wet and his lips swollen, if he’s still breathing he can go another round. People always tell him he talks too much, so he’ll shut up, for once, and do what he does best, for as long as he pleases. Making a grown man, or a resolute woman, or a cocky non-binary person sob with his mouth alone makes him feel like the most powerful human being on the Planet, their ultimate Master.

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Dion J. Pierre

The settlement of a federal discrimination suit filed by Jewish students of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) has severed their obligation to pay dues to the school’s Graduate Student Union (GSU), a major victory precipitated by the union’s endorsement of the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) movement against Israel.

Represented by the National Right to Work Foundation (NRTW), a nonprofit founded in 1968 which aims to abolish mandatory union membership, the students filed their complaint against GSU in March, arguing that its embrace of anti-Zionism discriminated against them as Jews as well as their religious belief that the Jewish people were always destined to return to their homeland.

The students had attempted to resist financially supporting GSU’s anti-Zionism, refusing to pay dues, but union bosses attempted to coerce their compliance, telling them that “no principles, teachings, or tenets of Judaism prohibit membership in or the payment of dues or fees to a labor union.”

With the settlement, they are released from an obligation which they said violated their core beliefs and freedom of association.

“The foundation-backed MIT graduate students who fought these legal battles have earned well deserved victories,” the organization’s president, Mark Mix, said on Wednesday. “Forcing GSU union officials to abandon their blatantly discriminatory dues practices is only the tip of the iceberg: because Massachusetts lacks Right to Work protections, GSU still has the power to force the vast majority of MIT graduate students to subsidize some portion of their activities.”

Mix added that NRTW intends to challenge compulsory union membership in unions pursuing controversial political aims at other universities, including the University of Chicago and John Hopkins University.

“Foundation attorneys are continuing to provide legal aid for all those who challenge the imposition of radical union agendas at the University of Chicago, Dartmouth, and John Hopkins, and they are doing so for adherents of both Judaism and Christianity,” he continued. “But this ordeal at MIT should remind lawmakers that all Americans should have a right to protect their money from going to union bosses they don’t support, whether those objections are based on religion, politics, or any other reason.”

NRTW is currently litigating another similar case brought by six City University of New York (CUNY) professors who sued to dissolve their membership in the Professional Staff Congress (PSC) public sector union after it passed an anti-Israel resolution during the country’s May 2021 war with Hamas. The measure declared solidarity with Palestinians and accused the Jewish state of ethnic cleansing, apartheid, and crimes against humanity.

[breathe-2am]

Im excited for the demasking of the gerrard/ortiz collusion of cruelty bc it will DEFINITELY be the culmination/resolution of the mara adoption drama and the henchim friend divorce

Bc look at it from the outside

Youre councilwoman ortiz. Ur son was driving under the influence and caused a nasty car accident that hurt multiple people. He loudly refused treatment in front of multiple witnesses, including telling a paramedic that if he even touched him hed get him fired and ruin his career. The acting captain on the scene then gets his confirmation that he is refusing treatment, and then moves on to focus on the other people in the accident that your son caused. Your son then dies later that night, which could have been prevented if he got checked out and not refused to be looked at. Your kneejerk reaction is to suspend the acting captain, but when the toxicology report comes back its confirmed that your sons alcohol level was several times the legal limit to be driving at the time of the accident. She is reinstated, but in the time between that she orchestrated and executed a high profile dangerous rescue of multiple people, including her stations captain, a police sergeant, and a child- an act of bravery for which she and her team received medals of valor, and the fire chief is using as major publicity to promote his department and political career.

And then you suspend the paramedic and her wifes fostering license, and directly prevent them from adopting a child, who has been in the foster system for years, and who would now be with a permanent family if you didnt interfere. The paramedics longtime friend and coworker (the one your son threatened to get fired) gets the child an emergency placement with him instead so that this poor nine year old girl doesnt go straight back into a group home.

And then when that paramedics captain has a family and medical emergency that takes him out of his job, you reinstate the captain who was at the station twenty years ago, who was removed for how poorly he treated the people he had power over, and specifically targeted the paramedic you hate on the basis of her race and sexuality. There is a mountain of complaints from that firehouse against him, and a matching mountain of commendations for the paramedic, all submitted without her knowledge or direction, and in the years following that captains removal, her firehouse becomes one of the most high profile and celebrated teams in the city, and is in the public eye for their part in helping many many people as well as being major players in triaging the natural disasters that have happened. One of the newer firemen dated a reporter who kept them on the news, and she even published a tell all book detailing the trials and tribulations this team (and specifically the two paramedics) went through.

And now imagine youre a random person in los angeles and you read all of that in the news. You read how this public official used her political connections to enact a personal vendetta against a paramedic because she did not treat your son when he refused (as is her job, it would be illegal for her to do so without his consent) after he was driving drunk and caused a multi car accident.

Would you vote for her?

Tldr councilwoman ortiz is COOKED

[townpostin]

Jamshedpur Residents Get Digital Access to Civic Grievance System

Public Grievance Management System streamlines municipal complaint process Jharkhand’s urban areas benefit from multi-channel platform for registering and resolving civic issues, enhancing citizen engagement in local governance. JAMSHEDPUR – Residents of Jamshedpur and surrounding urban areas can now register civic complaints and suggestions from home through the Public Grievance Management…

[discar]

HZD Terraforming Base-001 Text Communications Network

Chapter 3 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

Zo: GAIA, I had a question about the data we've been studying.

ADMIN [GAIA]: Of course. How may I help?

Zo: Where did it all come from? You told me that you don't have access to APOLLO or any other Old World archives. This seems like far more data than what Aloy could have found on a few scattered devices.

Zo: I scanned some devices around the base and only found a few lines in each.

ADMIN [GAIA]: Before the Faro Plague, even the most commonly available devices could store libraries worth of text and hundreds of hours of high-resolution video. While most people rarely filled their devices to capacity, they would often be filled with many incidental articles and video clips related to their favorite topics. Time and inevitable data corruption rendered many of those files difficult or impossible to read; however, the last file the device accessed has minimal corruption and is most intact. With time, your Focus can restore many corrupted files, and I can accelerate this process. The restored files are then placed in an archive.

Erend: I WAS WONDERING HOW ALOY FOUND SO MUCH OF THIS CONCRETE BEACH PARTY STUFF.

ADMIN [GAIA]: Yes, she found several devices with many hours of their music. The redundancy is also why I was able to ensure the final archive versions were of such high quality.

Erend: NO COMPLAINTS HERE!

Varl: Many complaints here.

Zo: I suppose that explains why so much of the data is entertainment and history, rather than more directly useful information, such as farming.

Erend: I FOUND STUFF ON HOW THOSE FARO MACHINES WERE BUILT. I MEAN, I KNOW IT'S IMPORTANT, THESE WERE THE THINGS THAT WERE ENDING THE WORLD, BUT THERE'S A LOT OF TECHNICAL SPECS IN THERE. HARDER TO READ THAN THE CRAZIEST TINKER'S BLUEPRINT. AND I'VE SEEN SOME CRAZY TINKERS.

Erend: WHAT, DID ALOY JUST FIND SOME TINKER'S JOURNAL SOMEWHERE AND DOWNLOAD ALL HIS DATA?

ADMIN [GAIA]: That is not impossible. However, I do not believe I have properly impressed upon you how easy it was to access information. Once the threat of the Faro Plague became clear, all information on their design, weaknesses, and specifications was available for public perusal, and anyone could choose to download such information from the global data net at a moment's thought. Many of the devices Aloy scanned had gigabytes of data on the Faro Plague.

Erend: GIGA WHAT?

Zo: It's a measure of information. It should have been in one of the first files GAIA gave you, the terminology file.

Erend: UH, I SKIMMED THAT.

Zo: Sigh.

Varl: Did you just typed sigh?

Zo: It's difficult to convey tone and expression in a text.

Varl: I think the Old Ones must have had some way, considering how much they texted. I'll loom into it.

Erend: SO WHAT'S A GIGABYTE? LIKE, HOW MUCH DATA IS IT?

Aloy: A byte is eight bits, or the amount of data required to encode a single character of text. It's basically the smallest measurable amount of data.

Varl: Aloy? You were listening? Or reading?

Aloy: I have a minute. I can text while I ride.

Zo: That doesn't seem safe.

Erend: OKAY, OKAY, BYTE IS ONE LETTER, GOT IT. SO WHAT'S A GIGABYTE?

Aloy: Ten to the ninth power bytes.

Varl: What?

Zo: I don't understand either.

Erend: OH, MATH. I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN IT WOULD BE MATH.

Erend: SO IT'S A STUPIDLY BIG NUMBER. BUT, I MEAN... HOW MANY BOOKS IS THAT?

Aloy: One gigabyte of pure text is probably more books than you could read in a lifetime.

Erend: SO, WHAT, THREE?

Aloy: I'm glad I took time out of my busy day to explain this to you.

Erend: I AIM TO PLEASE!

Chapter 3 | Prev chapter | Next chapter Chapter Index

[exoluxionlove]

[INFO] EXO-CBX lawyer files a complaint against SM with the FTC.

230605 Rough Papago translation of EXO-CBX's third legal statement

"This is Lee Jae-hak, a lawyer for Lin, a law firm that acted as legal representatives for Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen (Byun Baek-hyun, Kim Min-seok, Kim Jong-dae, hereinafter referred to as "artists").

On behalf of the client, the legal representative filed a complaint with the Fair Trade Commission (hereinafter referred to as the "Fair Trade Commission") against SM Entertainment (hereinafter referred to as "SM")'s "abuse of trading status" yesterday (June 4, 2023).

Through this complaint, we reported that unfair contractual activities that ignored the correction order have been carried out in SM, even though the FTC has already issued correction orders twice against SM in October 2007 and January 2011.

In addition, we asked the Fair Trade Commission for a strict investigation into SM's violations and prompt corrective measures to correct them, and further requested a full investigation into the exclusive contracts of SM entertainers.

In fact, three of our client artists signed an unfair contract that did not reflect any corrective measures ordered by the FTC to SM in the past, and were continuously damaged by SM's abuse of trading status.

Failure to correct it even after receiving a correction order from the Fair Trade Commission is also a criminal punishment subject to up to two years in prison or a fine of up to 150 million won as a "person who fails to comply with correction measures under Article 49 (1)" of the Monopoly Regulation and Fair Trade Act.

Below, the legal representative of the party will deliver the detailed position on the FTC's complaint against SM.

1. Despite the FTC's decision to ban SM twice in 2007 and 2011, SM did not correct it.

Until the FTC complaint, the artists made a really difficult decision after careful consideration.

This is not what happened yesterday or today.

Already in 2007 and 2011, SM, not any other company, has repeated the abuse of each trading position that the Fair Trade Commission has decided to ban the act to this day until 2023.

SM has already been judged to be unfair in terms of the FTC Resolution No. 2007-488 (2007 Seogyeong 0209) on October 8, 2007 (1) the starting point of the contract period of the exclusive contract as the debut date, and (2) the contract period provisions of other entertainment agencies in the same industry. (Refer to the decision sheet on pages 3 to 5 below

In addition, SM was also judged that the FTC's Resolution No. 2011-002 (2009 Seogyeong2741) on January 13, 2011 should not again apply the extended contract period to trainees for reasons such as overseas expansion. (See the decision sheet on pages 6-7 below.)

However, SM completely ignored the FTC's public judgment and repeated unfair tyranny again by signing exclusive contracts for Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen. This is an act that directly contradicts the Fair Trade Commission's judgment made to SM itself, not anyone else, and is a mockery of national public power.

The practices and behaviors that SM has repeated so far will not only be a matter for the artists of Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen. Considering many other trainees and artists, the damage can be enormous. And considering the unfair behavior that will be repeated not only now but also in the future, we couldn't help but step up for junior trainees and artists. In response, Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen artists decided to file a complaint with the FTC against SM's abuse of trading status with the help of their legal representatives.

I hope our efforts and courage will be a small addition and hope for the protection of the rights and interests of juniors and the fair and sound development of the pop culture industry.

2. Although it has already been confirmed that calculating the end date of the exclusive contract from the time of the 'entertainment activity debut' (not from the date of the exclusive contract) is unfair to set a long-term exclusive contract at the agency's will, SM still does not follow the FTC's corrective measures.

As of October 8, 2007, FTC Resolution No. 2007-488 (2007 Seogyeong 0209) was ordered to prohibit SM from "excessively prolonging the contract period by setting the exclusive contract period to "end on the 5th year after the release of the first album" or "end on the 5th year from the date of cast of the supporting grade or higher."

However, after receiving the FTC's correction order in 2007, SM repeatedly presented and concluded exactly the same unfair provisions in exclusive contracts with Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen signed in 2010 and 2011. (Excerpt from exclusive contract of client Byun Baek-hyun below)

In this way, the expiration date of the exclusive contract can be set to "five years after the release date of the first album" or "five years after the debut date of the first work" if the artist debuts as an actor.

The Fair Trade Commission Resolution No. 2007-488 (2007 Seogyeong 0209) on October 8, 2007 also judged exactly that.

In this way, SM repeatedly presented and concluded the same unfair provisions even after receiving the FTC's corrective order in 2007, which is a criminal punishment case that must be sentenced to up to two years in prison or fined up to 150 million won.

3. Even though the FTC's decision in 2007 judged that the contract period of "five years from the debut date (not from the contract date) was excessively long, SM made a more unfair contract with a period of "7 years" in the main body of the exclusive contract and "3 years" in the annex agreement.

In the 2007 FTC resolution above, SM's exclusive contract and other entertainment agencies' exclusive contract terms were compared, and the FTC judged that SM had set an overly unfavorable contract period clause.

As shown below, according to the FTC investigation at the time, (1) other agencies in the same industry did not set the starting date of the contract as "debut date" like SM, but as from "the date of signing the contract," and (2) the exclusive contract period was three to five years below the contract period set by SM.

As a result of this investigation, the Fair Trade Commission issued an order prohibiting excessive prolongation of the contract period by setting the exclusive contract period as "5th year after the release of the first album" or "5th year from the date of cast of the supporting grade or higher."

Nevertheless, SM did not correct this and signed the contract under unfair contract conditions, which is an act that did not comply with the Fair Trade Commission's corrective measures and is a criminal punishment issue as mentioned earlier.

4. SM is violating the Fair Trade Commission's corrective order by using the expedient to apply the extended contract period uniformly for reasons such as overseas expansion that has not been confirmed at the time of signing the contract.

According to FTC Resolution No. 2011-002 (2009 Seogyeong2741), SM is not ordered to correct the other party by applying the extended contract period to all trainees without considering their individual circumstances using their trading status.

In addition, the FTC pointed out the annex agreement of Table 3 as below in the above resolution in 2011, and SM uniformly concluded the annex agreement in this form, which was judged to be an unfair contract condition.

Upon receipt of such a corrective action order, SM should no longer enter into a contract that violates the corrective action order, and even if the contract is already signed, it should be revised to suit the purpose of the corrective action order. However, SM repeatedly presented and signed exactly the same unfair subsidiary agreement provisions in exclusive contracts with Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen in 2010 and 2011, before and after receiving the FTC's correction order in 2011. (Excerpt from exclusive contract of client Byun Baek-hyun below)

And as far as the client artists know, SM has been signing an annex agreement to extend the three-year contract period for other artists due to preparations for overseas expansion.

In this way, SM repeatedly presented and concluded the same unfair provisions even after receiving the FTC's correction order in 2011, which is a criminal punishment of up to two years in prison or a fine of up to KRW 150 million as defined in Article 125 (1) of the Monopoly Regulation and Fair Trade Act.

5. The follow-up exclusive contract, which is automatically extended until the album release volume is filled, is extremely unfair as it has not even set a minimum limit on the period.

As you can see, the artist decided to calculate the contract period from the debut date, and the trainee period was added to the exclusive contract period, extended by 3 years, and the military service period was added to the exclusive contract for more than 12 to 13 years.

This is too different from the standard exclusive contract for pop culture artists (singer-centered) announced by the Fair Trade Commission based on 7 years of contract period, and SM claims at least 17 or 18 years of contract period by signing 12 to 13 years of exclusive contract.

It is pointed out again that such subsequent signing of an exclusive contract constitutes "an act of unfairly using the status of the transaction" in Article 45 (1) 6 of the Monopoly Regulation and Fair Trade Act. In other words, the long-term compulsion using a subsequent exclusive contract is considered to correspond separately to the "compulsory provision of profits" or "unprofitable provision of transaction conditions" in attached Table 2 of the Enforcement Decree of the same Act.

And Article 5, Paragraph 1 of the subsequent exclusive contract says, 'This contract is... for five years from. However, if the minimum number of albums specified in Article 4 (4) is not released within the same period, the contract period shall be automatically extended until the time of implementation.' There is no upper limit to the period of automatic extension.

In this way, the clause that the contract period is automatically extended without a cap is clearly a slave contract, and the legal representative pointed out that it is an act of "unfairly exploiting the trading position to deal with the other party," and the artists agree.

And with more than a year left of the existing exclusive contract, it is not justifiable to "tie" the artists by signing a follow-up exclusive contract without a limit on the period. SM has never paid artists a down payment for subsequent exclusive contracts.

ccording to Article 3, Paragraph 2 of the "Popular Culture Artist (Singer-centered) Standard Exclusive Contract" announced by the Minister of Culture, Sports and Tourism, the singer can notify the planner of the termination of the contract at any time after seven years. However, SM has signed a very long-term contract and is tying up the artists again a year or so before the contract ends.

6. We have filed a complaint with the Fair Trade Commission with the hope that our small courage will be helpful for the establishment of fair pop culture and junior artists.

Despite corrective action by the Fair Trade Commission in 2007 and 2011, SM has repeatedly engaged in unfair contract practices.

Such an act ignores the legitimate act of state government power, and the damage caused by it has occurred repeatedly to trainees and artists.

In response, Baekhyun, Xiumin, and Chen artists decided to file a complaint with the FTC against SM's abuse of trading status with the help of their legal representatives.

I hope our efforts and courage will be a small addition and hope for the protection of the rights and interests of juniors and the fair and sound development of the pop culture industry."

Source

[skzophreniic]

⍣ ೋ cw: explicit sexual content., semi-public sex, dom!changbin, spanking, gagging (panties), rough sex, degradation, manhandling, dirty talk, creampie, overstimulation, valet kink (??)

⍣ ೋ notes: shoutout to that one ask i got asking when i was gonna write for han and changbin and they ended up being the next two

🧾 FORMAL INVESTIGATION REPORT

Filed by: Concierge Aeryn Subject: Mustang Inspection Staff Member Under Review: Changbin Seo Guest Involved: Room 101

You weren’t expecting to be summoned like a misbehaving schoolgirl.

The envelope was slipped under your suite door sometime mid-afternoon—gold-trimmed, obnoxiously elegant, as if a wax seal would’ve been too gauche. The message inside was short:

To our valued guest, Concierge Aeryn requests a private audience regarding your submitted complaint. Please meet in the Executive Lounge on Level 3 at your earliest convenience.

Right. Because when you file a totally reasonable complaint about a gremlin in a sleeveless shirt launching himself across your Mustang like he’s in The Fast and the Furious: Valet Drift, you clearly need to be summoned.

You’re already bracing for nonsense by the time you step into the lounge.

But even you didn’t expect this level of bullshit.

Because there he is—Changbin, the human embodiment of “I bet I could fix it with a wrench and three flexes”—sprawled in a leather armchair like he owns the place. One leg thrown over the other, glass of whiskey in hand, smug little smirk already in place like it was professionally installed.

“Of course you’re here,” you mutter.

He raises his glass in a lazy salute. “Wouldn’t miss it. I love a formal meeting. Really brings out my diplomatic side.”

Before you can strangle him with the decorative throw pillow, Concierge Aeryn stands.

She’s terrifyingly elegant—adorable pink blazer and skirt but sharp dark eyes, clipboard in hand, expression politely unreadable.

“Thank you for joining us,” she says smoothly. “This is a voluntary resolution session in response to your recent concern about one of our valet attendants. For transparency, the staff member has been informed and is present for discussion.”

You blink. “Discussion? I didn’t ask for a conversation. I asked for a reprimand. Or a refund. Or a ceremonial beheading. I’m flexible.”

Changbin coughs into his drink.

Aeryn doesn’t flinch. “We believe some conflicts are best resolved through direct communication.”

“Through… conversation,” you echo flatly. “About how this man violated my Mustang’s personal space and then revved the engine like he was about to take it to prom.”

Changbin shrugs, all fake innocence. “You left the keys in it. I assumed she was into me.”

“Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls with 5.0L V8s and ceramic coatings.”

His eyes glitter. “Only the ones with leather interiors.”

You cross your arms, leaning back in your chair just enough to seem unimpressed. “I don’t even know why you’re here. Is this what the hotel does? Hosts dramatic little interventions instead of just, I don’t know, issuing formal warnings like a normal HR department?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Changbin drawls, “you’re looking at HR.”

You blink.

He grins wider and gestures vaguely at his upper lip, where the faint remnants of adhesive still cling.

“You were the guy in the fake mustache earlier?” you say, absolutely not meaning to sound that incredulous or amused.

“Technically still am.” He pulls a tiny plastic mustache from his back pocket like it’s evidence in a murder trial. “I moonlight as ‘Brian from Human Resources.’ He’s got three kids, a mortgage, and a deep passion for employee accountability.”

You stare at him. He gives you a solemn nod, like this is completely normal. Like he’s not sitting here with the fakest mustache known to mankind and a whiskey glass he definitely wasn’t authorized to have.

Aeryn makes a note on her clipboard. Possibly “burn everything.”

“I want Brian to be fired,” you announce, deadpan.

“Brian’s unionized,” Changbin says gravely. “You’ll have to go through corporate.”

“They’ll definitely hear about this,” you shoot back.

“Shit,” he says, and sips his drink like this is suddenly a high-stakes legal drama and not the most unprofessional mediation session in hotel history.

Aeryn looks up with the calm of a woman mentally browsing job listings. “If we’re finished with theatrics, perhaps we can proceed to the next steps. Our records show the Mustang was returned in excellent condition. However, as a courtesy to you, we’re offering a full inspection—car wash included—free of charge.”

You blink. “Wait. That’s it?”

“That, and a voucher for one complimentary spa treatment,” Aeryn adds. “Redeemable at any time during your stay. Though I suggest sooner rather than later. For stress relief.”

Changbin perks up. “We could do a couples massage.”

You don’t even dignify that with a response. You just turn to Aeryn.

“Is he going to be the one inspecting the car?”

“Only if you consent,” she says, already expecting the answer.

“I don’t.”

Changbin leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, voice dropping just a notch. “I’m very… thorough. When I inspect things. Very… hands-on.”

Your stomach does something wildly inconvenient. You chalk it up to caffeine withdrawal and the fact that he’s objectively hot in that smug bastard who probably has his own protein line kind of way.

“Tell me,” you say slowly, “do you flirt with every guest whose car you manhandle, or was I just lucky?”

“You were lucky,” he says without missing a beat. “That car was sexy, but you—”

“Stop.”

“—you made her look tame.”

You blink slowly. “Are you actively trying to get fired?”

“Depends. If it gets me alone with you in a parking garage… maybe.”

Aeryn closes her folder with a snap. “This concludes the resolution session. Miss, if you’d like to supervise the vehicle inspection, please meet Mr. Seo in the parking garage in thirty minutes. If not, he’ll be supervised by a senior valet.”

You nod stiffly and rise. “Fine.”

Changbin’s already on his feet, stretching in that obnoxious, broad-shouldered way like he’s warming up for something more intense than a paint check. He winks at you as you turn to go.

“Don’t worry,” he calls after you. “I’ll be gentle with her this time.”

You don’t turn around, but your voice drifts back cool and clipped: “Can’t say the same for me.”

And just like that, you leave them both stunned—Aeryn in amused disbelief and Changbin with his jaw halfway to the marble floor, clearly unprepared for a guest who plays the game better than he does.

_____________________________________________________________

The parking garage is dim and humming—low lights buzzing overhead, the distant sound of tires squealing somewhere in the bowels of the building. It smells like concrete, polish, and testosterone. Probably imported.

You’re not sure what you expected when you agreed to this little charade of an “inspection,” but it wasn’t a fully detailed, sparkling version of your Mustang parked dead center in the valet bay like it’s on display at a car show.

And definitely not Changbin leaning against the hood like he’s auditioning for a gritty magazine spread titled Torque and Temptation.

He’s swapped the sleeveless shirt for a black fitted polo that’s somehow worse. Tighter. Smugger. The sleeves cling to his biceps in a way that should be illegal in most countries.

“I figured she deserved a little TLC,” he says, pushing off the hood with that maddeningly lazy swagger. “Did the wash myself. Waxed her, too.”

Your gaze darts to the faint water trails drying along the edge of the fender. You narrow your eyes.

“She doesn’t need waxing,” you deadpan.

He smirks. “Thought she liked it smooth.”

You don’t blink. “You’re impossible.”

“Not impossible,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Just inconveniently available.”

You square your shoulders. “You’re here to inspect for damage, not flirt like a used car salesman.”

He grins like he is the six-pack. “Multitasking is a skill, sweetheart.”

God, he’s infuriating.

But then he crouches beside the front wheel, fingers gliding along the curve of the rim with surprising delicacy. The shift from cocky to focused is disorienting.

He looks up at you from beneath his lashes, voice lower now. “You see this?” He taps lightly against the edge. “No scratches. No dents. And trust me, I’d notice. I’ve got… very sensitive hands.”

You fold your arms, because the way he’s crouched—thick thighs straining, lips just parted, that teasing glint never quite gone—is more than a little distracting.

“I’m sure you do,” you say tightly.

He stands again, slow and deliberate, brushing his palms off on the seat of his pants. “Want to see how good they are?”

You blink. “What, are you offering a back massage now?”

He grins wickedly. “Only if you’re parked face-down.”

You choke on your own inhale.

He steps closer, close enough that you have to tilt your chin to meet his gaze. “You don’t scare easy, do you?”

“I drive a Mustang,” you say coolly. “I scare other people.”

He whistles low. “So that’s what this is. You’re trying to out-alpha the valet.”

“No,” you say, stepping into his space. “I’m trying to keep the valet from jizzing on my engine block.”

That actually stuns him for a second. His jaw drops. Then—laughter, full-bodied and infuriatingly attractive.

“Goddamn,” he mutters.

And then he’s moving—no more teasing, no more playful quips—just pure, deliberate intention. He crowds you against the car with all the subtlety of a freight train, body heat pouring off him like a goddamn furnace. One hand plants beside your head on the roof, the other slides around your waist, dragging you flush to him.

“You think I won’t?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “Think I won’t bend you over this car right now and fuck you like I’m marking territory?”

Your breath stutters. You don’t answer. Can’t.

That’s when he glances up, eyes flicking to the discreet little security camera nestled in the corner of the ceiling. Red light blinking. Recording.

You expect him to flinch. Maybe ease off. Instead, he smirks. Reaches into his back pocket. Pulls out a microfiber towel—the same one he probably used to lovingly polish your hood—and with one casual flick, he tosses it over the camera lens.

No words. No hesitation. Just the silent, arrogant kind of dominance that says: watch time is over. Now it’s for me.

Your heart lurches. Your thighs clench.

And then he moves.

No smirk, no warning. Just heat and mass and intent, crowding you back against your own car like he’s staking a claim. One thick thigh forces between yours. His palm finds your waist and drags you into his chest, hard enough to make your breath hitch. His hand slams beside your head on the roof, and suddenly you’re caged—nothing but steel and heat and him.

“You think I won’t?” His breath ghosts over your ear, deep and dangerous. “Think I won’t bend you over this fucking Mustang and ruin you?”

And you should say something. Should push back, throw that cocky tone right back at him like you always do. But your brain short-circuits the second his thigh flexes between yours, pressing up just right, like he already knows how to cut you off at the source.

“You’re full of shit,” you mutter, breathless, but it’s weak. A pathetic swing when you’re already spiraling.

Changbin huffs a laugh against your skin, and it’s so smug. You feel it in your bones. “Yeah? Keep running your mouth, baby. See how fast I shut it.”

Then he’s spinning you—just grabbing you and turning you like it’s nothing. Your chest hits the hood of your car with a dull thunk, the cool metal shocking against your flushed skin. You’re spread out like a meal, and he doesn’t even pause to admire. Just acts.

His hand plants between your shoulder blades, pinning you. His other hand shoves your skirt up without ceremony. You hear him groan behind you—raw and low—when your lace panties are revealed, the dark patch of wetness front and center.

“Oh, fuck me,” he mutters, hand sliding down to cup between your thighs. His fingers press right into the soaked fabric, rubbing a slow, dirty circle over your clit. “This from just me talking, baby?”

You bite back a moan, but your hips roll into his touch, helpless and aching.

He tsks. “You’re filthy. Fucking soaking. You want me to wreck you out here, huh?”

“Like you’d know what to do with it,” you snap, still clinging to whatever dignity you’ve got left.

The air shifts.

You feel the tension coil in him before he moves, and then he grabs your panties—fistful at your hip—and rips them down in one rough pull. They get caught at your knees, tangled in your thighs, and before you can protest, he snatches them up and shoves them into your mouth.

“You don’t get to talk anymore,” he growls, voice like gravel as he looms over you. “You get to take it.”

And you whimper. Because god, yes. That mouth of his, the size of him behind you, the weight of his cock already pressing to your soaked folds—it’s too much.

His cock drags over your entrance, heavy and hot, and so thick you twitch just from the feel of it against your slit. He’s not even in yet, just teasing, sliding the head through your slick—smearing it, soaking himself in the mess between your thighs like he’s painting you in it.

And fuck, he loves how wet you are. You can hear it in the way he grunts—like the sound alone punches the air from his lungs.

“Shit,” he breathes, almost reverent. “You’re dripping for it. Didn’t even get my cock inside and you’re already desperate.”

He grips your hips tighter, thumbs digging into your skin, spreading you open with no finesse—just a filthy kind of urgency like he needs to see you split for him. Like he’s starved for it.

“You ready for this, baby?” he mutters, voice rough as gravel. “Gonna fuck you so stupid, you forget your own name.”

And then he pushes in.

The stretch is immediate. Relentless. You cry out into the panties stuffed in your mouth, back arching as your cunt fights to take the girth of him. He’s thick—not overly long, but the kind of cock that makes you feel full right from the start. That kind of stretch that burns and thrills and tears your breath from your lungs all at once.

“Fuck—fuck,” he hisses through clenched teeth, hips trembling as he sinks in slow. “You’re tight. Holy shit, baby, you’re gonna make me cum before I even start.”

You clench, and he whines.

It’s broken and breathy—boyish and wrecked. The sound of someone already spiraling, trying to hold back and failing miserably.

His fingers dig harder into your hips like he’s anchoring himself to reality, like if he doesn't hold on right now, he’s going to lose it completely. He’s inside—barely—but it already feels like too much. Too hot. Too tight. Too fucking good.

“You’re squeezing me like a fist,” he gasps, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second, sweat slicking his skin. “You want me to blow already, huh? Want me to cum like a fuckin’ virgin just from putting it in?”

He groans as he pulls back, just a few inches, then slams back in.

You choke on the scream behind your gag, tears pricking the corners of your eyes from the force of it. Your body jerks forward from the impact, tits dragging over the hood of your car, and the friction only makes it worse—better. You don’t even know the difference anymore.

“Yeah,” he pants, breath stuttering against your neck, “that’s it. Take it. Take all of it, fuck—look at this little cunt stretching so fuckin’ wide for me.”

He sets a rhythm that’s brutal and hungry—driving into you like he’s got something to prove. Like he needs to make you feel every last inch of him. The slap of skin on skin echoes around the garage, mixing with his ragged breathing, the squelch of your soaked pussy, and your muffled moans.

“Fuckin’ made for me,” he groans. “Like this pussy was built to take my cock. You feel that, baby? Feel how good you’re takin’ it?”

You nod helplessly, drool starting to leak around the edges of the panties stuffed in your mouth. It’s messy, degrading, and you don’t care—don’t want to care. Not when he’s fucking you like this.

“You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” he growls, thrusts getting harder, deeper. “Say the word and I’ll flip you over and fuck you through the windshield. Make you sit on my cock while I drive you home, legs spread, dripping all over my seat.”

You whine, hips jerking back into his, and he laughs—low, breathless, filthy.

“God, you’re such a fuckin’ mess. Look at you. Cryin’, droolin’, gagged on your own panties, and still grinding back on me like you want more.”

He grabs a fistful of your hair, yanks your head back, makes your back arch like a bow.

“Still got attitude left in you, huh?” he taunts, voice right in your ear. “Still think I don’t know what to do with it?”

Then he pulls all the way out—slow, deliberate, dragging the full thickness of him against your raw walls—and slaps the head of his cock against your clit. Once. Twice. You jolt with each hit, body twitching like it’s trying to run from the pleasure and the pain and the fucking overstimulation.

But there’s nowhere to go.

Because he won’t let you.

One hand fists in your hair, the other pins your hips down, and he’s not gentle. He doesn’t want you squirming. He wants you still, wants your legs open and your cunt dripping and your body exactly where he put it—used and needy and begging for more.

“Look at you,” he grits out. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. All wrecked and spread out for me.”

Then he does it again—slaps your clit with the flushed head of his cock, and this time your whole body jerks, a strangled moan escaping around the gag. You’re already trembling, nerve endings fried, and he’s not even back inside you yet.

He hums like he’s delighted by it, like he’s admiring the effect. “That sensitive already? Poor baby.”

He slides back in with one smooth, slow thrust, and the way your body clenches around him—wet, twitchy, desperate—pulls a broken fuck from deep in his chest.

He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, buried to the hilt, grinding his hips slow and filthy, like he’s making you feel every single inch, like he’s daring you to fall apart on him again.

“I could do this all night,” he breathes, nose dragging up your spine. “Just stay right here, keep you full, keep you dumb. Ruin you over and over until you can’t think of anything but my cock.”

Your body throbs around him, a pulse of heat so intense it makes you whimper, makes your knees buckle under the weight of it. His arm snakes around your waist, hauling you up just enough to keep you upright, to keep fucking you through it.

“You gonna cum again for me?” he murmurs, mouth at your jaw, breath hot and mean. “Gonna soak my cock like a good little toy?”

And you do—can’t not. Your whole body seizes, spasming around him in a sudden, violent wave of pleasure that makes you scream around your gag, makes you claw at the hood of the car, makes your vision go white.

He groans—low, choked, nearly broken—and the sound of you falling apart seems to shatter whatever restraint he had left.

“That’s it. That’s fucking it.”

He slams into you again, faster now, harder, a man possessed. His thrusts are erratic, savage, and he’s panting curses against your neck.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he growls. “Gonna fill this little cunt so full, it leaks all the way down your thighs. Gonna mark you—ruin you—until everyone who looks at you knows who you belong to.”

He thrusts in deep—so deep it knocks the air from your lungs—and stays there, hips twitching as he cums with a guttural moan, body trembling against yours. You feel it—hot and thick—spilling inside you in pulsing waves, flooding you, claiming you.

Neither of you move for a long moment.

Just the sounds of panting, sweat-dripping silence. Your thighs shaking. His breath against your back. The weight of him still buried inside.

Then—finally—he pulls out with a filthy, slick drag, and you whimper, overstimulated and ruined. Cum leaks out of you immediately, sliding down your thighs in warm rivulets.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice smug and low.

“Still think I don’t know what to do with it?”

______________________________________________________________

[TRANSCRIPT – INTERNAL SECURITY SYSTEM, 21:03]

Jisung is in the control room. It’s quiet. Late. He’s alone, legs kicked up on the console, one hand in a snack bag, the other toggling through camera feeds with minimal enthusiasm.

Han (deadpan): “Another thrilling night at the SKZotel. Let’s see which part of the building needs Jesus today.”

Camera 19 loads: P3 Valet Bay. Changbin is visible, leaning against a black Mustang. He’s not in uniform. Technically not even supposed to be down there.

Han (frowning): “…Why is he always shirtless-adjacent? Who approved that fit?”

He watches. Changbin steps closer to a guest. Close-close. Hand on the roof. Whispering something. The guest presses back against the car.

Han (snorting): “He’s about to fuck that guest or buff the car again, and honestly, I don’t know which one he’s thirstier for.”

21:08 — Guest is visibly flustered. Changbin crouches. Jisung zooms in, bumps the desk with his knee, curses, and knocks over chips.

Han (frantic whisper): “No no no—get back in frame—oh god he’s crouching—oh god he’s got thighs. This is a hate crime.”

21:09 — Changbin looks directly into the camera. Smirks.

Han (gasping): “He knows. He knows. That smug bastard—”

21:09:06 — Changbin reaches into his back pocket, flicks a microfiber towel over the camera lens with the flair of a man who’s definitely committing at least three HR violations.

Han (screaming): “NOOOOOOOOOO—

cut to static

[ADDITIONAL NOTES:]

Officer Han has submitted a formal request to install thermal imaging in the garage.

Request has been immediately denied.

Counseling has been suggested. Han has declined.

series taglist: @nightmarenyxx @miyaluvvsyou @jisuperboard @fackeraccount @silly250 @lov3rachan @lze325 @angel-writes-here @jesuisstay @lov3rachan @lze325 @scribblesnsketches05 @jesuisstay @slut4junho @wickedbutlovely @woozarts @pixie-felix

[highly-important]

Thoughts on the Venture Bros Movie

I absolutely love this series and periodically get obsessed with it. The last two seasons were especially some of my favorites. I enjoyed the movie, it really felt like an episode. Any complaints I have are really in the "I loved it but the portions are too small" category.

I love that Shoreleave and Dr. Girlfriend are friends. I think this was kind of established earlier. It just makes sense.

I like how Brock - who knows Rusty better than anybody for better or worse- went to the bat defending Rusty to the OSI. And that Brock's shining moment isn't him being super kill guy.

Along those lines, I like how Rusty's entire arc this show is realizing to some degree or another that he isn't a failure. His father was able to present an idealized image of himself to the public, and it meant Rusty growing up under a shadow he could never live up to. But the reality is Rusty isn't as incapable as he or others believe he is.

We’ve kind of gotten this growth with Rusty during the show so we don’t need it as much in the movie. But it’s very interesting that he can use his brother’s robot to save not only the building but “restore” the destroyed Venture compound. I think it’s Rusty really earning his own legacy.

Plus his attempt to build something Jonas Jr-ish just made something super Science-y. Maybe he’s returning to his true calling

I like how the movie represents Dr. Girlfriend's powers. Yes, she is good at fighting, and is intelligent enough to build super science tech, but her strength is also in her diplomacy and the loyal connections she builds. Part of that is that when she is in trouble, others come to her aid. And her challenge in the movie is a test of her negotiation and diplomacy. I like that the movie takes time to give her this moment.

You can really see how Hank got a lot of his personality from Debra.

Debra’s tech was really cool and I love the scene on the train platform. Its a little frustrating that we don’t get more, but I think Venture Bros is very good at building expectations and then letting your imagination fill in the gaps.

I think this is partially because Venture Bros often ends at the climax and skips over the resolution. The building tension makes you want answers. And often the end-credit sequence gives us the pieces to put the puzzle together without handing it to us. It creates a sandbox and asks you to play in it.

Gary is just living his best life. He got a grappling gun and got to co-pilot a giant robot.

Hank's multiple personalities was never something I'd imagine getting conclusion on, but I'm glad they did. It kind of reminds me of Return to Oz, where at the beginning Ozma is free to wander around the real word, but is trapped in a mirror in Oz. And at the end that reverses. Hank doesn’t destroy these pieces of himself, he just puts them in a place where they can’t control him.

Dean's plot was kind of interesting, there was rumor that one of the brothers would be a protag and one would become an arch. Dean is so worried that his negative life experiences are going to ruin him and prevent him from having the type of life he wants to have. But sometimes things aren't as bad as we think they are. And I think it suggests he can stay with his brother and not be damaged by the experience

Hank and Dean are both controlled by vivid imaginations in different ways. Hank imagines how good things could be, and Dean imagines how bad things could be. Meeting his mother is never going to be as good or cathartic or as healing as Hank imagines it, just as reality isn’t as horrible as Dean imagines it.

I really like the story structure of this show where an emphasis is put on something - like who is the mother - and then the mystery is eventually dropped. But the reality is that who is their mother isn't as important. Hank didn't need to find his mom, and finding her wont give him what he wants. He needed to reconnect with his brother. But it’s also fun that we can solve this puzzle on our own, it’s just not the point.

Of course, I think it does mean Dean is heir to the guild.

I wasn't expecting the twist with the Monarch at all, and in retrospect I think I should have ? Its really interesting how well it fits with Rusty's arc the entire show. Rusty turns his hatred inwards and blames himself for not being his dad. Now that Malcolm understands his unconscious thoughts, it shifts his relationship to arching from an impulse to a choice.

[tittytania]

🚨PLEASE HELP SAVE LUCKY THE CAT FROM HEARTBREAKING ABUSE AND NEGLECT, AND STOP A MAJOR PUBLICATION FROM PROFITING OFF OF ANIMAL ABUSE🚨

Back in August, The Cut (@thecut), an online division of New York Mag (@nymag), published a story by an anonymous woman who, after giving birth to her baby, started to despise her cat Lucky and chose to abuse her, including starving her and leaving her to live in filth.

Some selections about Lucky from the article:

Obviously, openly admitting to chilling animal abuse did not go over well with The Cut's readers. People were rightfully outraged at both the anonymous writer and the magazine for publishing the article and profiting off of animal abuse. After the predictable backlash, The Cut put the article behind a paywall and added an editor's note to the beginning, claiming that they confirmed the welfare of the cat prior to publication. (Here is an archived version without the paywall. Look at a more recent capture to see the note that was added.) The magazine also made a post to their Instagram about the situation, reiterating their claim of confirming Lucky's safety and health. They are limiting comments on their socials to remove comments that relate to the backlash about Lucky's abuse, and they are blocking accounts that comment on it. A screenshot of the Instagram post is below.

(note: I cannot confirm or deny the claims of racism and misogyny. I have not seen anything like that myself, but someone on reddit claimed they saw a person call the anonymous woman's behavior "white woman bullshit." That is the extent of what I have heard on that. I also cannot comment on the claims of abuse and threats towards the staff).

Clearly, The Cut's claims about Lucky's welfare are bullshit. The resolution of the article ends with the author saying simply "I haven't fallen back in love with Lucky, but it could still happen. I'll shut the windows til then." According to the article itself, Lucky is still in the home with an owner who is abusing her, an owner who has, and I quote, "an unwillingness... to change anything about (the abuse)." By definition, this means Lucky's welfare is not being probably cared for. You cannot claim that Lucky is ok when her owner already said that she is abusing her and is unwilling to stop the abuse. New York Mag is hiding behind activism buzzwords to protect an animal abuser and shelter themselves from the justified backlash to their publication's choices so they can continue to profit off of animal abuse.

Please please please help to get a real update about Lucky's condition.

What can I do?

There is a change.org petition requesting a real update about her, which as of writing has over 17,000 signatures. You can also reach out to the magazines' staff and demand a real update from them. Their emails are listed below:

swati.sharma@voxmedia.com | bill.carey@voxmedia.com | lauren.starke@voxmedia.com | priyanka.mantha@voxmedia.com | amani.orr@voxmedia.com | lindsay.peoples@nymag.com | rachel.bashein@nymag.com | jen.ortiz@nymag.com | marisa.carroll@nymag.com | evan.murray@voxmedia.com

The email of Jim Bankoff, the Chairman and CEO of vox media (which owns New York Mag) is bankoff@gmail.com

Here is an email template that you can follow.

You can also report online animal abuse to the Internet Crime Complaint Center (IC3) here.

If you are in New York, you can contact the 311 website or call 1-800-577-TIPS (1-800-577-8477) to report ongoing online animal abuse or neglect.

The Instagram account @lucilletherescuecat has a story highlight where she has posted several resources in addition to the ones mentioned here.

My heart deeply aches for poor Lucky, who cannot understand why the human she loves has changed so drastically. Why her life changed from daily brushies and pillow snuggles to being ignored and starved. She used to have her own space heater, and now she doesn't even have water. I'm devastated at the thought of how heartbroken and miserable she must be. Her owner even admitted that she would be in jail if she did this to a person. While I doubt this will result in a jail sentence, we can at least make sure that Lucky is rehomed to place where she is properly cared for.

Please share and encourage others to do the same, using the #SAVELUCKYTHECAT hashtag. Thank you so much for reading.