#it was probably another impulse purchase...

[sweetjijisama]

Didn't want to live, so I drew another Shinji and added some chromatic aberration bc my ass paid ass money for the CSP update for goddamn idk anymore reasons.

Not quite satisfied with the face but at least the colors look cool ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Character: Shinji Ikari from "Neon Genesis Evangelion"

[vashti-lives]

There’s a lot of discourse around stashing craft supplies but I gotta say there’s something very nice about being like, I need a comfort knit to bring to work tomorrow that requires no brain and will make me happy to look at, and can be put on hold without consequence and then finding the perfect thing. 10/10 experience.

[cinematicnomad]

so my wallet was stolen. either last night (the last time i remember seeing my wallet) or this afternoon (when i was out and about), but i suspect it was stolen while on my date!! bc all the fraudulent charges (over $8k worth!! on my personal cards AND my work card) were made like 15 min away from where we were. and my true crime paranoia brain wonders if he had anything to do with it bc he ended the date v suddenly literally right about when i now know was the first fraudulent charge and made no mention of meeting up again. which at the time i chalked up to it just being an average date but now i wonder if its bc he helped fucking rob me. which i have no proof of but. what the fuck.

which as i was typing this, one of the banks called me back to tell me some other places the thief’s tried to use my card and told me that they’re usually v fast so it would be surprising if it was stolen last night and when i told him my theory he was like “i would trust your gut on this” and said that in cases like this, usually the victim is targeted and that's what he assumes happened here.

anyway! fuck my life!!

[planets-collide]

What if I were to make a poor financial decision

[chocobje]

How I like to characterize Sprout is that he’s great talking with the ones he’s close with (Cosmo, Astro, etc.) But incredibly socially awkward with others. He comes off as brash, but he’s trying his best.

What guidelines do you try to follow when writing Sprout? I’m just curious.

Thanks for giving me the opportunity to yap about one of my favourite characters hehe..

You asked for guidelines I gave you a character analysis instead.

(Don't mind the images I didn't want this post to look naked)

ALSO NOTE THAT AT THE END OF THE DAY THIS IS MERELY MY INTERPRETATION OF HIS CHARACTER. EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN!! Don't take my post as a mandatory guide to follow.

Let's talk about what's canon:

I like checking the Wikipedia for his dialogues every now and then to make sure he's not too out-of-character.

Sprout comes off as blunt, he does not sugarcoat his words when he has something to say.

Not even an excuse or a reason as to why he doesn't want to join Teagan for tea; It was straight up a "no" until Teagan told him Cosmo will join them too. (Also I want to point out he doesn't immediately say yes when he's told Cosmo will be there, so for all we know he'd still decline even if his best friend's joining Teagan).

Dandy's dialogue when you purchase Sprout. I think about it a lot. Out of all the character dialogues, the one with Astro is what I feel like is an example of his overprotectiveness coming across as "pushy".

He'd definitely be the type to scold his friends. Especially after Gardenview's shutdown with all the Twisteds wreaking havoc and whatnot. I don't think Sprout is fond of going on runs, but only does so he can watch over everyone and keep them safe. He makes sure everyone is focused and on high alert, he doesn't want anyone to be reckless.

He prioritizes safety over answers. His dialogue with Rodger shows that. Maybe he's also curious as to what has happened, because in Vee's dialogue he tried talking to Dandy only for Dandy to walk away. I assume Sprout just wanted to check up on him rather than knowing what's going on with Gardenview and the Twisteds.

Another thing I don't really see often is how Sprout is actually pretty forgetful and impulsive.

For a Toon who's constantly keeping watch on everyone he surely does not apply the same kind of attention to himself.

He talks before thinking about his words, but once he realized that he immediately apologized to Vee. I don't think he always notices when he comes across as rude though.

I actually think he's actually quite reckless when he bakes. I obviously can't show it in this post but if you look at that animation with Cosmo and Sprout baking they're not even measuring the ingredients. I mean what. 😭

The way he bakes feels so impulsive and it just looked like they were winging it. Somehow despite that their baked goods still end up great and that's honestly impressive.

Okay now for that dialogue between Bobette and Sprout, I was getting there-- I've never made a gingerbread house but from what I've seen from other people it requires a lot more patience and carefulness.

Sprout is neither.

According to him, his gingerbread house fell apart immediately and then he stopped trying afterwards. It's honestly funny.

I feel like this also shows through his stats. Both his extraction speed and skillcheck is 2 stars. His stamina and speed is way higher. He prefers running around, probably to make sure he can watch over everyone during their runs. That or because he has long legs.

Anyway to recap; Sprout in canon is blunt, pushy, overprotective, and impulsive. But he genuinely has good intentions and means well. He cares for his friends, which is why he scolds them because he wants to make sure they're safe.

Now for some headcanons:

Okay this is the part where I make stuff up. So it's just my take;

• He has ADHD.

I'M STARTING WITH THE NEURODIVERGENT HEADCANON.

This is not a unique headcanon. I've seen so many people who headcanons this too so it's relatively popular. Personally, I only see him with ADHD. (I'm projecting).

He's forgetful, impulsive, and quite socially awkward in a way aswell. He's easily distracted. He keeps forgetting about the oven. He's impulsive when baking. I'm a very impulsive and reckless person myself, I constantly make mistakes when I draw, yet somehow they end up okay 😭. When I'm not able to draw something right, I give up immediately. (I projected this onto the gingerbread house thing earlier).

• He comes across as intimidating.

You know in Kids' birthday parties when there's a mascot a lotta kids go run and hide? I based it off of that. I remember when I was like, 6 or 7, when a mascot came in I cried and hid under a table. They were tall.. <\3

I feel like there was a concerning number of kids who were actually afraid of him, despite how friendly he appears both in person and in the show. Maybe it's the RBF when he's not smiling..

I also like to think he's taller than some of the kids who comes to Gardenview which plays a factor to the whole "intimidating" thing. The way Sprout deals with this is giving the kids cupcakes or other sweets. Once the kids actually talk to him they're immediately comfortable.

• He was one of the very first to become "Twisted".

I don't have a concrete idea on how the story of the game goes, but I always imagine the Mains being the first victims. Sprout is a healer and he keeps an eye on everyone, so he had to go first.

–

Okay, I think that's all now. If you read all of that wow thanks, this took me hours to write 😭. I love overanalysing characters.

[szarina]

For the yandere Zayne series, I wonder what he'd do if reader just... decided to leave? An impulsive decision of a pregnant woman. With Zayne on a long shift, packing everything she could in less than an hour and fleeing on the first train to another city. How far is Zayne reach? Would he use force? He wouldn't hurt the reader, but how far can we push him without consequences?

❆ ₊⋆ content warnings. abuse of power + stalking

A loud thud can be heard inside the huge walk-in closet. The suitcase clattering and it made you wince before pulling the drawers hastily. Shoving your clothes and whatever you can get your hands on and dumping it to your suitcase.

The onesies, onesies. You repeatedly chant under your breath before kneeling in front of a another drawer. The onesies you made for the twins, you will be needing it. You didn't hesitate before gripping the side of the cabinet to pull yourself up. It was hard for you when your pregnant belly is in the way.

You grab a another bag on the way. Prenatal vitamins - check. IDs - check. Personal belongings - check. The emergency packet of money you saved, credit cards. You're going to withdraw some funds, you didn't think much of it and within minutes, you were punching the codes he installed, for security, he said. You memorized it by listening to the dial tones of the certain numbers. It would notify him for sure but he's too busy while he's operating.

How did you know that? It was a coincidence. You were barely waking up after a nap when you heard the call. A patient of his needing immediate surgery and he can't refuse that and when you hear the sound of his car leaving the house and without thinking, you immediately ran upstairs.

You didn't have the plan and what you were doing is in impulse but you can't bear to stay another second in this house. You ignored the pain of your limbs. The gentle flutters of your twins that must be sensing your distress. Adrenaline was also one of the factors why you were doing this.

A taxi was waiting outside. You made sure to leave your phone in the house. You have no need for it and then, you slam the door shut of the taxi and you were on the nearest train station, about to catch the next train of whatever city it will take you.

There was a nearest ATM machine located in the train station. You adjust your beanie and pulling your coat tighter. Hoping that it was enough to conceal and see that you're not really pregnant but only the natural roundness of your stomach.

Grabbing the paper bills, you gently tuck it inside your wallet. You were glad for hiding your card and can be used for emergencies like this. It will be the last time you're using it and you will be using cash in the foreseeable future.

Purchasing a ticket in cash were a breeze. The teller didn't gave much of a peep. Occupied talking to their phone and didn't you gave much of glance. You hold the ticket like it was your lifeline. It's a ticket for the farthest city the train can reach but this was also your freedom.

As you board the train, with your suitcase besides you. A little hope fills you. It wasn't much and it will drastically change your life. You rub your belly softly. “It's okay. Mommy's tough. We're going to be fine. Just the three of us.” A teary smile is all you can muster as you feel them move inside you. This was better. You didn't need him.

The moment he sees that notification on his phone of the silent alarm that you left. He was already pinging all the hospitals in the region under the guise that you were probably visiting for a health checkup. They didn't ask questions from him since you're the esteemed wife of him.

Private investigators were already dispatched and were hot on your trail. He didn't panic, it will only bring the unnecessary matters.

They got twelve hours to find you. Cameras are being checked in the city's vicinity especially train stations and airports. You were only given 12 hours before you can truly hide and settle somewhere. He won't chase you. He will find you. You need him and you were in a sensitive condition. It will be bad for the babies to be away from their father and he's not too trusting of you handling your own matters. You will need him.

When he finds you, he didn't barge and force you to be back again. He lets you stay wherever you are but it doesn't mean he won't take care of you. There will be anonymous deliveries of care packages and food that he knows you'll crave.

Don't be surprised when he's ringing your doorbell. He won't mean no harm. He was only checking that his pregnant wife is fine.

[2neaky]

🎤 Thank U 4 The Dono! 💿 P.2

12k words! 𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒏𝒚! ♡ 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝑶𝑪! | 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 -> 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: size k*nk, or*al (m recieving), p in v s*x (use of a condom), tricking/“paying for p*ssy,” power-imbalance (financial), dr*g use (w*ed), heavy drinking, drunk s*x, morally grey ethics concerning modern-day s*x work and “buying” one’s consent, basically pr*stitution, objectification, egotistical Onyankopon, body mods (n*pple piercings), specific descriptions of body types, use of n-word (characters & writer are Black), roughly edited

Part 1

Finally, the last part! Warning, this fic isn’t the most ethically sound and I, as the writer, can recognize that. I don’t necessarily condone all concepts portrayed in this fic, but it’s just for the plot. Sometimes, I like morally grey shit. If you unable to separate this fictional story from real life, I advise against reading this. Enjoy & reblog! <3

“Right this way! Please follow the signs!”

Standing in a dimly lit corridor, the attendant is dressed in a prim suit as they shout directions to the attendees. 

Echoes of sound check bounce off of the walls of the large stadium. At times, there are minutes of silence before they’re interjected by brief clips of music or even someone speaking into the mic.

This place is massive, built to house thousands of screaming fans at a time.

All of it piques Bliss’s interest as she’s guided along by security. Some part of her wishes she could stay and watch the onstage preparation up close.

However, she forgets about all of that as she travels up a steep flight of stairs, away from the stadium’s general seating. 

Tiny lights, embedded along the sides of each step, light the way through the dark staircase. Kitten heels click softly as she slowly climbs, in line behind another guest. She neglects to hold the railing, preferring instead to latch onto her phone. 

Her other hand grips the wooden baton handles of her newest purchase: a Goyard Saïgon mini bag. 

Truthfully, it was an impulsive purchase made with just a fraction of the money she received from her Halloween Stream—and, speaking of, her bank account has never been healthier. 

That stream has upped the quality of her life, undoubtedly. Not that she wasn’t living comfortably before, but her world has been opened to new experiences. 

For instance, premium seating at a concert of her favorite artist. She’s in a space where she can afford this experience probably three times over. Yet, she didn’t even have to spend a dime to get it.

She can hardly contain a tiny grin with the flash of a memory—a conversation between her and Onyankopon over messages. Just a casual discussion, going in-depth about this entire arrangement.

Anyway, as the little quirk disappears from her face, a burst of light washes over her. She’s finally reached the top of that long staircase. Just a few feet away is the enclosed balcony, cased off behind glass so clean that she’s sure she would’ve walked right into it.

A “Luxury Box” is what they called it—an exclusive lounge, secluded to a balcony room above the stage. There’s a different attendant at its door, greeting each guest as they enter. 

“Good evening, enjoy the show,” the young woman greets with a pleasant smile and gentle nod.

Bliss can’t help but to show teeth, the apples of her cheeks even aching. “Hi, thank you.”

As she spills into the room with the other guests, her eyes are everywhere. The Luxury Box is spacious, considering that there are about thirty people here.

Her first observation is that this place is comfortable. Cushioned chairs positioned before a large glass—it’s the perfect seating arrangement with an excellent view of the stage from its left. 

The floor below the seats is glass, too. The sight gives way to a sea of empty chairs, hundreds of feet below. Soon, they’ll be filled with excited fans.

To the right of the viewing area is the bar, decked out in expensive, unopened bottles. There’s already a bartender behind the counter, wiping down the dark marble. 

And by the looks of it, they’re fully stocked: wine, champagne, beer, juice, water—anything a patron could desire. 

That’ll be the first spot she hits up.

On the room’s opposite side is an array of food spread out amongst a long, cloth-covered table. From hors d'oeuvres to dessert, they have everything. Behind the table, caterers attend to the food, ensuring its presentation is on point.

She needs no more convincing. Whipping out her phone, Bliss is quick to record the sights surrounding her. She slowly pans the camera, trying to catch everything in the video.

She hadn’t known what to expect before coming, however, Bliss had to give herself props. She managed to dress perfectly for the occasion, blending seamlessly with the lounge’s modern chic decor.

Jean Paul Gaultier hugs her body tonight as a black maxi dress with small grey dots that outline the feminine shape. The dramatic curves and slopes of her body stretch it out in a way that elevates the dress. 

No doubt, it’s a wonderful look. However, it’s also a rather sheer piece, as its material is comprised of a thin, but tiny netting. Several times throughout her journey here, she’s had to pull her bundles to the front, having them fall over her chest.

It’s her fault she hadn’t tried on the dress before packing it, she realizes. If she had, she would’ve known to buy some pasties beforehand.

Peering around the room one more time, Bliss seems to recognize a few faces—well known influencers, and even a couple of celebrities.

Be calm, she reminds herself. She’s blended in so far. 

A nervous tick, she glances at the time on her phone. She exhales with the realization that it’s only about an hour and a half more before the show is scheduled to start.

She’s closer to seeing Onyankopon live. Closer to meeting him in person for the first time. The thought has her queasy and excited all at once. She presses a manicured hand to her stomach.

God, she wishes she knew someone here, just so that they may distract her from the “what-if’s” and “maybe’s” running through her mind.

But, really? Who needs friends when there’s a bar just a few feet away? 

Especially when there’s a cute ass nigga behind it?

She just found her newest distraction to take the edge off of things.

•

The stadium’s lights have lowered to pitch-black, darkness, allowing the stage’s to shine. Shades of purple bleeding into white beam brightly. 

The DJ, propped farther back on the large stage, plays tracks that only hype up the audience.

Below the balcony, through the glass flooring, Bliss watches fans flood the stadium. They almost perfectly resemble waves of the sea. Even their cheers can be heard from up here.

As it gets closer to that time, they grow louder. They almost compete with the music.

Nursing her second drink of the night (if she doesn’t count the shot she has in between this and her first), Bliss sits plum in her seat. There’s a pleasant buzz running throughout her, and obviously it’s the liquor.

Just a little bit tipsy, more and more things seem to catch her attention as her body and mind ease up. So many distractions around her, she almost didn’t realize that someone’s come onstage if it weren’t for the screams of the fans beneath them: the show’s opener—Connie Springer.

She makes a quiet gasp around her straw, eyes wide as she leans forward in her chair. 

Bliss has a couple of his songs in her rap playlist. He’s not nearly played as much as Onyankopon is in her household. Still though, the support is there.

She actually found Connie through him. Seeing as they’re closely affiliated and under the same label, his music was recommended after Ony’s. 

Even in a couple of Ony’s Instagram posts, she can spot the other man in the background. She must admit, the rapper keeps a couple of fine ass niggas around him—hence why she follows Connie, too. 

She only hopes Ony doesn’t look too deeply into that.

But, coming back to reality, Bliss can see why Ony had picked the man to be his opener. 

He’s getting the crowd hype, and they’re rapping the lyrics right along with him. By the time his set ends—an unforgettable forty minutes—the audience is even livelier than before.

It’s astounding, really. She didn’t think they could get any louder. And the energy is coming off of the crowd in waves. She can’t be the only one in the lounge affected by it, her skin covered in goosebumps.

“I appreciate y’all tonight!”

The crowd cheers after Connie. His image is blown up on the Jumbotrons, giving every onlooker a view of his gemmed smile.

“I know y’all loud for me, but I’ma need y’all to be even louder for my brother, Onyankopon!”

Deafening shrieks fill the stadium. And Bliss is sure that if she were on the ground, her eardrums would’ve been ruptured.

Even the other guests in the lounge cheer loudly. And she’s thankful, knowing that she won’t have to hide her excitement when the time comes.

As Connie leaves the stage, the crowd chants: “Ony! Ony! Ony!”

With the stage now empty, its lights dim and the music almost completely fades. For a moment, everything seems to still.

The fans grow quieter—even if it’s just by a fraction. But, it’s safe to say that everyone in the stadium is watching the stage closely with bated breath. Waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Then, music strikes with volume that reignites the crowd. 

Almost everyone around her shows their enthusiasm, tempting her to do the same. So, Bliss cups a hand near her mouth, letting out a resounding “wooh” from her seat. 

“ATL, you ready?”

The voice, deep and amplified by the mic, sends a chill through her. For about ten seconds, the music is completely drowned out by the fans’ screams.

Her eyes scour the stage, not finding a single soul on it. It’s still dark, too.

Then, there’s another sound: a low chuckle. 

Her stomach drops. She never thought she’d be so attracted to the sound of someone’s laughter. She’s sure that there are at least a thousand other fans that are sharing the very same experience. She can’t be the only one.

“Nah, I’on think y’all heard me—“

Purple streaks of light shoot down onto the stage. Flames, rigged at the perimeters of the platform, burst out as the man of the hour runs out onto the stage. 

Any music is drowned out by the fans.

The stage’s backdrop illuminates the entire platform as a spinning graphic of the letter “O,” wrapped in barbed wire, displays on the screen.

“Y’all niggas ready?” 

She finally sees him as his image is blown up on the Jumbotrons. It’s not the clearest resolution, but she can tell just how fine he is.

Mic held to his lips, the lower half of his face is hidden. A baggy, black zip up covers his upper half. He’s even got his hoodie up, sadly, obscuring the rest of his face. 

But, as she stares at his image, she notices the flashes of light catching on the cloth. Squinting just a little, she catches sight of the tiny crystals dotting the dark fabric.

As Onyankopon moves about, he glitters underneath the stage lights. Tiny, rain-bowed streaks of light are caught by the cameras, projecting his image.

But that isn’t the only thing on him that shines. Coming around his neck and resting on his chest, is a tangle of thick, heavy looking chains.

His microphone picks up every clank they make. They don’t even need light to shine, his diamonds still dance in the dark. It’s almost blinding.

Large, baggy black cargoes cover his strong legs. However, it’s only the base for the shiny, silver and purple, jeweled buckles strapped all down the length of the fabric.

“Y’all turnt up in here, tonight!”

There’s a slight breathlessness to his voice, and it makes her body clench. If she could bottle up the sound and keep it to herself, she would.

Or is that the liquor talking?

As Onyankopon pulls the purple mic away from his face, a camera picks up on him. The closeup of his face is blown up all over the Jumbotrons.

As the crowd cries out for him, he shows them a perfect smile. His bottom row of teeth covered in VVS diamond lined, opal grillz. 

It’s almost too much, the sight threatening to turn Bliss into a puddle right in her seat.

He lifts the mic to his mouth again, just as laughter tumbles out past his lips. “Y’all right up there with Chicago! Think you could do better than ‘em tonight?”

Fans are going ballistic, jumping and cheering even louder. They begin to chant again, repeating his name over and over.

All of these people, screaming his name, are here to see him. She can’t fathom how he does it.

But watching him, seeing how his smile stretches wider and the apples of his cheeks swell, she sees that he’s in his element.

“Yeah … y’all niggas some real competition!”

More screams. She almost wishes she was amongst the crowd, free to go as crazy as the other fans.

“Do me a favor: keep this energy the whole night! Nothing less—only up from here!”

Those were his last words as the beat to one of his songs begins, and the stadium dissolves into madness. The heavy base punches through every body filling it. 

Bliss can feel it in her chest. Even the luxury box’s glass has the faintest tremor to it.

Ony runs down the middle of the stage, where it stretches out into the crowd. Mic to mouth, he’s on it, rapping over the track with passion.

A nasty mug contorts his face as he performs, clearly feeling the lyrics. And the fans are rapping right along with him. 

One in particular, a young, scrawny man with big glasses, is caught on camera. His body is pressed to the metal barrier, he’s leaning over, gazing up at the rapper as his mouth moves along to every word.

Stepping closer to the area, Ony points a gloved hand at the young fan, making sure everyone—even the cameras—are paying him close attention.

Bliss’s heart swells at the sight of the endearing moment.

Running back to the main stage’s middle, Ony jumps up and down with the song’s beat. The pyrotechnics go off once again as the song’s hook comes up.

The energy consuming this stadium is too powerful to ignore. Bliss loses herself to it. After the first two songs, she can’t even find it in herself to care how crazy she looks—losing herself to the energy of the performance.

Halfway through the show, Onyankopon loses his hoodie. 

She remembers it so clearly, when he had unzipped it. The dark fabric parted and gave way to shiny, deep brown abs, littered with tattoos of all sizes.

Her fingers itched to run down the rigid surface of abs. 

Free from the heavy material, his head is fully visible. His typical inky black waves are sheathed by an equally black, velvet durag. And she’s almost 100% sure that it’s real velvet—none of that suede shit.

What catches her eyes the most is his nickname, “Ony,” spelled with beaded gems in Old English font on the back of the fabric.

One of the cameras, currently projecting his image onto the Jumbotrons, shows the audience the glistening skin of his back as he walks back to the main stage. His tattoos only continue to bleed into the expanse of the dark skin. Strong muscles ripple beneath the smooth skin.

She pulls out her phone, recording yet another clip of the shirtless man as he performs on the stage below. Without a second thought, she posts it to her Instagram story.

He just looked too fucking good for her not to capture. Without a doubt, Onyankopon is putting on a show. 

Bliss can die happy right now…

Except, she can’t. 

Not when the starting melody of her favorite song, catches her ears. She gasps, freezing in her seat.

At the center of the stage, Ony’s pacing slows to a stop. He stares out at the jumping crowd, a smile slowly climbing onto his face. The crowd is in a frenzy.

“What y’all know ‘bout this one?”

They roar louder as he continues to search the stadium, not looking for anyone in particular. Not yet.

“Wasn’t even gon’ perform this one, I ain’t gon’ hold you,” he chuckles.

He begins to pace again, thinking with amusement of just how much shit he makes his DJ put up with—what with him prolonging this track just to speak to the fans.

Bringing the mic to his lips, Onyankopon finally looks up at the large luxury box to the left of the stage.

“But, I know you like it.” 

A camera catches a closeup of him just as he shoots a quick wink. It’s all over the Jumbotrons, and the crowd goes wild. 

As the song finally begins, Bliss’ body catches a chill. She has no choice but to get up for this one, it is her favorite song after all. 

It’s definitely a turn up song, and she does just that. Rapping along, she earns the attention of others around her. So entranced by the music, she doesn’t even realize how they begin to hype her up. And she doesn’t miss a word.

Without a thought, Bliss kicks off her short heels. Holding onto the back of her chair, she bends over and throws her ass in a circle. 

Hoots and hollers from a few of the women around her goad her on, she sticks her tongue out. One or two of them even give her a couple of taps.

There’s lights shining on her, and she’ll have to remember to ask them for the videos. The dress is doing absolutely nothing to constrict the way her body moves, despite how tight it is.

Standing up straight, she does a full body whine, mouthing her favorite part of the song. Without a doubt, this is a highlight of her concert experience.

Sadly, just as quickly as the song had started, it ends. But, Bliss is only smiling, laughing too hard with the other guests.

Now she can die happy.

•

Three hours of performing—it was a dream to witness. And to think, that after all of that, she’s going to meet the artist.

How this can possibly go, she’s can’t imagine. Well—realistically, it can go one of two ways. 

He flew her out for tonight’s show, put her up in one of the best hotels in the city, and even assigned a personal driver to her for the time being that she was here—a big bodied, black truck, of course.

So, there’s only one thing he wants. Bliss knew that coming into this. And she agreed, didn’t she?

The attendants assigned to this luxury box had made the announcement minutes ago to follow the signage for a swift exit, seeing as the show’s over.

Of course, there were a few stragglers—her included. Head buried in her phone, she swipes through the videos she was able to get from the other guests of her “mini performance.”

She’ll definitely have to post these later.

With a ring-dressed middle finger, she’s trimming one of the videos, far too focused to notice the two men approaching her.

“Ms. Bliss?”

Blinking, her head shoots up as her inky black inches fall over her face. She pushes the strands out of the way.

“Yes?”

“Onyankopon’s ready for you.”

Her face blanks as she looks back and forth between the two. Her tongue fumbles in her mouth. So, she remains wordless as she nods.

Coming to her feet, she pulls down her dress and smooths out any wrinkles. Swiping up her mini Saïgon, she follows after the men as they take her to the performer.

•

“Another city finished,” Connie smirks, dapping him up.

Slumped in a chair of his own, Ony laughs. “Yeah, and I’m ‘bout tired as Hell.”

Connie plops down on the futon pushed against the wall of Ony’s dressing room—just a few feet across from the man himself.

“You definitely gonna crash after this,” he laughs, pulling out one of his phones from his pants pocket.

“Nah,” Ony shakes his head. Licking his bottom lip, he tries to conceal a smile as Connie glances at him. “Actually … I got shit to do after.”

Raising a brow, Connie looks at him fully this time. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They both share a knowing look, which only makes this all the more funnier.

“How you meet her?”

Glancing away, Ony bats him off as he sucks his teeth. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Nah, it better not be ole’ girl—“

“Chill,” Ony quickly looks his way. “Told you I was done with that. This a new vibe. Trust.”

Connie looks him up and down, ultimately deciding to trust his friend. “Alright…”

“Yeah, and speaking of—you gotta get the fuck up outta here.”

Connie makes a face. The question “why” is on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall from his lips, when a knock sounds at the door.

“Shit,” Ony mumbles, slowly getting up on sore feet.

Connie chooses to laugh this time. “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting the doorknob just before pulling it open.

“Ony,” Mitch, one of the security guards on his team greets.

“Wassup, man,” he nods.

Quietly, Mitch shifts to the side to allow him to see the short woman behind him: Bliss.

Ony’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Like he’s just been served the tastiest looking platter in the world; The finest piece of steak from STK Steakhouse.

“Hey.” The corner of his lips upturn.

“Hi.” Bliss had seemed to breathe the word out.

Without thinking, Ony outstretches an arm to pull her in for a side hug. 

“‘Preciate it, y’all,” he says to the guards. 

The two men turn away, returning to their stations at the end of the hallway. 

Ony opens the door wider, allowing Bliss to slip past him and into the comfortably sized room. As she makes her way past him, he doesn’t stop his eyes from falling below her waist to check out her body.

Her ass moves like water in that dress. And the perfume wafting off of her, mingled with her body’s natural scent, is rich and warm. Luxurious, even. An expensive one for sure.

“Hey,” Bliss waves shyly, meeting Connie’s eyes.

The man with the bleached, shaved head makes a strong effort to keep eye contact. And if Onyankopon weren’t watching him closely from behind her, he would’ve broken it. If only to admire how her body stretches the fabric out—and how terribly it hides her nipples. 

“Wassup, how you doing?” Connie smiles kindly. Standing up, he pockets his phone while outstretching a hand to her.

Politely, Bliss gives him a gentle shake before letting her hand fall back to the wooden handle of her purse.

“Ony,” Connie moves over to the man, dapping him up.

“We talk soon,” he nods.

As soon as the door shuts, with Connie’s departure, it’s like all of the air in the room has been sucked out.

Slowly, Bliss turns to face him. He’s already staring her down.

“It’s good seeing you in person.”

His voice is low, but soft. 

Her body is covered in goosebumps within seconds. She gives a shaky smile, showing off that cute gap between her two front teeth.

“You, too,” she says.

“You nervous?” He smiles as he heads over to the room’s large vanity.

It allows her the space needed to breathe as she watches him retie the loosened strings of his durag.

“I am,” she giggles, wanting to cover her mouth. “The show was really good, though. I had fun.”

“I’m glad.” He turns back around, leaning against the vanity to stare at her. “Hope you appreciated the song.”

Her smile only grows. “I did, thank you. You don’t even know, I was dancing and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises his brows, watching her beam.

“Yes, it’s my favorite!” She remembers telling him in their DMs that it was her favorite song of his.

However, that definitely isn’t how he learned that fact.

Almost bowing her head, Bliss looks up at him through her thick lash set. “Thank you for performing it.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He looks her up and down. 

He might be exhausted, but he can definitely squeeze out one more performance for the night. 

After all, his body is still running off of the adrenaline from the show.

“How was everything? The hotel good?”

She perks up at that. “Hm? Oh—yes!” She nods. 

He thinks it’s cute.

“The hotel is very nice, and thanks for the driver.”

“Anything to make you comfortable.” He licks his lips. His eyes flick down for half of a second, catching a peak of her pierced nipples through the dress.

Of course, she notices.

“I’ma ride with you back to the hotel, take a quick shower, then we out for dinner. That’s cool with you?”

Her matte lips roll into her mouth and she nods. It’s a weak attempt at hiding an excited smile. They discussed this before—spending the night out together. Yet, Bliss still finds herself unable to really believe it.

His well-groomed brows lift just an inch. “That’s not a answer.” 

She breaks into laughter, feeling silly. “Yes, Ony.”

“Aight. Lemme grab my shit and we could leave together.”

She nods, heading over to the vanity on her own accord as Ony moves about to gather his items. 

As he packs his black, Margiela backpack, she tweaks her appearance in the brightly lit mirror. Smoothing down flyaways, fixing her lip combo—she does it all.

Being the great multitasker he is, Onyakopon sneaks glances at her from behind.

This view is everything: The only thing “covering” her ass in that dress is a tiny, black G-string that disappears between the globes of her cheeks anyway. Her honey-brown skin is dimpled but mark-free. And her narrow waist tempts him to grab it from behind.

If tonight goes as planned, backshots are definitely going to be on the agenda. Now, he’ll eventually flip her over on her back, because that face and those titties are too pretty for that position alone. 

The mental imagine is enough to make his dick twitch. If he didn’t have any sense, he’d fuck her raw. Just to make her feel every inch and vein, and for him to feel the wet heat of her walls. 

But before he gets too carried away with his own thoughts, Onyankopon blinks them away. Slipping into his jacket, he throws his backpack over a shoulder. 

“Aight, let’s go.”

Nodding, Bliss returns to his side. Ony is quick to hold out a hand, which she takes.

“When we leave, it might be some fans and paps outside. I can’t control that, I’m sorry. But, I got my people with us, so you should be good.”

Bliss nods, only able to quietly take it all in. She’s never been in the spotlight before. She only hopes that they aren’t too crazy.

“Oh, wait—“ 

Quickly, she drops his hand to search through her purse. A couple of seconds later, she’s pulling out a pair of designer shades. They’re huge with blacked out lenses, perfect for hiding her face.

Ony laughs. “You got it.”

•

As they’re just a few feet from the exit, body guards at all of their sides, Bliss anticipates Ony dropping her hand, just to keep anymore rumors at bay. 

However, as they pass through the threshold of the stadium and the cool, outside air hits them, her hand is still heavy with his.

“Ony!”

“Onyankopon, look this way!”

“Who’s this that you brought out tonight?”

“Is that your girlfriend, Ony?”

Using her purse, Bliss blocks the other side of her face, hoping the cameras don’t catch anything. Her lips tremble as she tries to keep from laughing at the obscene and invasive questions.

Their driver plucks the back door of their car open—a Rolls Royce. Ony lets go of her hand to let her in first. 

Just as he climbs in, the driver shuts the door behind them. The second his security backs away from the car, paparazzi and a few fans close-in on the vehicle, trying to snap pictures through the tinted windows.

“Wow,” Bliss laughs, breathlessly. She pulls the large shades off of her face, allowing him to seeing her beautiful face.

“My bad ‘bout that. Should’ve prepared you more.”

“It was actually tamer than I thought,” she smiles.

“Shit, my bad. Ain’t know you had it like that.” 

She only laughs at his joke, and he can only think about how much he likes the sound.

As the driver pulls off, heading towards Onyankopon’s hotel, Bliss opens up her camera. She records a couple of clips here and there of herself in the car, careful to keep Ony out of it.

It’s cute, he thinks, how she doesn’t try to take advantage of such a moment. Even more, it allows him to worry less about putting a guard up; He pulls out his phone.

On Twitter and TikTok, he catches posts of his concert, liking and reposting his favorite ones. All of the love from his fans makes his chest swell with pride.

ATL definitely showed out tonight. A contender with Chicago, for sure.

Shutting his phone off, Ony drops it into his lap and leans back in his seat. His gaze is attracted to the woman beside him.  

In the low lighting, she’s gorgeous. As the driver narrowly avoids the greater part of a pothole in the street, the car is unstable for a second or two.

In that time, his eyes fall to her chest, seeing how it bounces even under the confines of her dress.

It triggers multiple images in his brain—memories of her past streams.

Finally shutting off her phone, Bliss does a quiet sigh as she pushes her hair over one shoulder, exposing more of her upper half. 

Blinking, she finally takes a look at him, and they make eye contact. Off of instinct, she laughs nervously.

“Hi.”

He smiles, showing off his grills. “Hey.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head lazily. So oblivious to just how impatient he is for her.

A date with Onyankopon.

She, Bliss, is on a date with The Onyankopon. Never did she think that would be her reality.

Before they arrived, he did just as promised—stopping by his hotel to get ready. He had her stay in the car, yet he definitely didn’t make her wait too long.

When he got back into the car, keeping his backpack at his feet, he smelled heavenly. His cologne was arousing—something about a good smelling man really just does it for her.

His outfit seemed to match the vibe she had went for: a brown Miu Miu leather and sheepskin jacket with snakeskin and flowers over the shoulders. His pants are a basic black, baggy fit jean with chains dangling from a pocket. His jewelry, of course, is silver.

And without a durag, his shiny waves were out for all to see.

There’s no doubt, he’d chosen the fanciest restaurant out here. It was a two-level establishment, and they have the entire second floor to themselves.

Just three of Ony’s security personnel guard the entrance and exit to the staircase. It’s quiet up here, yet peaceful. However, Bliss feels quite awkward, as all of the attention is on her.

They had gotten through appetizers before the real conversation began. Well, really Ony had gone through it. After a show like that, it’s no wonder that he’s worked up an appetite. 

Bliss picked at the food here and there, careful not to get full too fast. She also is still nervous.

“What you do earlier today? Before my show.”

Swallowing her sip of the mixed drink she had ordered, Bliss presses a hand to her chest.

“Just some shopping. This is my first time in Atlanta, so I wanted to take advantage of the malls.” She laughs quietly. “I hope your driver didn’t mind.”

Rubbing at his chin hairs, he glances at her purse set off to the side of the table. It’s crisp and the color is well saturated. There’s not an inch of the bag frayed or faded.

“You got this today?”

She follows his gaze. “Yeah,” she says nervously.

He hums. “How much you pay for it?”

She shrugs. “About 6k.”

He smirks to himself, still eyeing the bag. “That’s light … you want it in cash?”

Her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “What? I don’t—“

“If you don’t take the cash, I’ma find a way to get it to you. So quit all’at stuttering, humble shit.”

His voice is calm, quiet too. Which only astounds her, because there’s nothing calm about someone offering her six grand.

But, she’s not slick. Even as her mouth hangs open, he spots the hint of a smile on her stretched lips.

“It’s … I don’t need it, Ony.”

“Shit, I know.” Huffing out a breath of amusement, he smirks down at her. “But you want it, so just take it.”

She looks off to the side, her hair falling in her face before she pushes it over her shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Y’know, I knew ‘bout you for a minute.”

That stops her in her tracks. 

Her Instagram profile is that of the typical IG model—sponsorships, the occasional risky photo, but overall, pretty moderate.

How long had he known about her page? Was he stalking her profile like she’d done his? Why only now say something?

Her heart races. All of these questions she wants to ask—she opens her mouth to do so.

“Yeah, you cute on ‘em live streams.” He continues rubbing at his chin, still eyeing her.

And as those words left his mouth, her own closes.

Her career as a cam-girl isn’t in the spotlight. It’s no well-kept secret, nor is her page really even hard to find. Still, it’s always jarring when she has to come face-to-face with that in reality.

“W-what?“

Her voice is quiet. The shock on her face is quite apparent, too.

“I catch ‘em when I can.” He sits back in his chair and shrugs.

She knows it’s greedy, but if that’s how she gets her money, then so be it: her streams are only accessible to those subbed to her highest tier on her cam-girl page.

“Oh … my God,” she whispers, putting a hand over her mouth. 

He cracks a smile, a small chuckle falling out past his lips. 

“How long did you—“ She stops herself, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Couple months,” he says, like it’s no big deal. 

Her stomach drops to her ass. And as a new thought emerges in her head, her stomach threatens to fall out of her body.

“What’s your username?”

She almost didn’t even want to ask. Onyankopon can only laugh.

“C’mon, now. Y’know who I am.”

She fears she does. He doesn’t need to say it:

onLyONE1

Falling back in her chair, Bliss covers her face as she groans into her hands.

“Shit was obvious, too—“

“Stop, please!” She laughs, shyly. Pulling her hands away from her face, she reveals a soft pout on her lips. “I can’t believe you saw that,” she whines.

Is it crazy that his eyes seem to sparkle as he smiles? “What? Your body?”

“No! Well—kinda. I mean me crushing over you!”

Now, he’s practically cackling. And Bliss’ face burns with embarrassment.

Calming himself down, Ony sighs. “Relax, I thought it was cute.”

She gives him a weak glance, immediately looking away. 

“I can’t believe this.” She groans. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shakes his head. “That’s federal. I wasn’t even gon’ say nothing, ‘til I found out you was a fan—“

“Ugh,” she looks away, a scowl on her lips. “Don’t do that.”

“You right, my fault,” he chuckles. “A supporter,” he corrects.

“Thank you.”

He hums. “But, that shit was sexy, though.” He shrugs. “So, I had to fly you out here, see you in person.”

When she regains the courage to look him in the eyes, she feels small in her seat. His eye contact is unwavering.

“And get you all to myself.” He scoffs as he runs his eyes over her upper body. “Couldn’t stand you paying attention to all them broke ass niggas.”

His lips frown with thinly veiled disgust. It almost makes her laugh. On the other hand, the statement as a whole makes her tummy flutter.

She hates to admit it, but a possessive man will always be her weakness.

“I’ll double what I gave you, just to get you for tonight.”

“I … Ony…“ 

The offer is tempting, real tempting. But, can she really do this? The whole 'pay-for-pussy' thing?

He senses her apprehension. Wordlessly, he reaches down by his foot.

The low whine of a zipper catches her ears. Before she can question it, three, fat stacks of rubber-banded hundreds are dropped onto the table. Right before her widened eyes.

He pockets his hands, leaning back in his chair once more. “I matched you for the bag, too.” He nods to the stack.

She’s breathless. All of this money, it’s making her head spin. “O-Ony—“

Her resolve is cracking, he can tell. And this has got to be his favorite part about having money—the power it gives him. He widens his legs underneath the table, feeling himself grow stiff already.

“I’ma selfish ass nigga. I know that. And if I see something I want, I’ma get it. All I really need is one night … but, if you fucking with me, I’ll keep you put up.”

Her brain attempts to formulate a coherent thought, yet nothing comes up. This sounds too good to be true.

But, her mind can’t deny what’s in front of her. And, the idea of him spending so much just to have her—even for a night—only gets her wetter by the second.

He stares at her, patiently awaiting an answer he already knows he’ll get.

But, just to get it out of her faster, he turns up the heat: reaching back into his bag, Onyankopon pulls out another fat stack, placing it on top of the others.

Like magic, Bliss finds her mouth moving before she can even really think twice about it.

She’s giggly off the drinks, but she isn’t the only one. As Onyankopon continues ordering more and more alcohol to the table, she can see that he, too, is loosening up.

He’s talking more, a tad bit more touchy, and even bolder in his flirtatiousness.

She likes it.

Another thing about her and alcohol; She gets talkative. Part of her brain is screaming at her to put a sock in it, judging by Ony’s demeanor:

He’s sat back with an arm thrown over the back of the chair, slowly chewing as he stares at her with low eyes. In his hand, his fingers slowly twist a balled up napkin.

But, she just can’t stop talking. Her mouth is running a mile a minute—she doesn’t even remember what she’s talking about. 

However, all of her spouting comes to a stop when Ony finally sits up. Looking elsewhere, he throws the napkin down on the table.

Her eyes dart around. “What happened?”

Pulling out a crisp, black card from his wallet, he snaps it down on the cloth-table. “Ready to go.”

“Oh…”

Oh shit.

It takes almost no time at all for the waiter to take Ony’s card. In the blink of an eye, they’re standing on their feet, ready to leave.

“Don’t forget your cash.”

For a split second, Bliss is confused. But, when she follows the direction of where he points to, she’s quickly reminded.

Those large stacks of cash he’d pulled out for her earlier were sitting so casually to the side of the table, next to her purse. Like it wasn’t money itself. And a lot of it.

She slips her purse over her wrist before scooping them up in her arms.

“Yeah, there you go,” Ony nods, smiling at her.

They follow his security team to the elevator. All the while, he’s got an arm thrown over her slender shoulders.

Only two of his staff follow them into the moderately sized shaft. As the two, burly men stand in front of them, hands clasped before them in similar fashion, Ony’s arm remains around her neck, keeping her back pressed against his front.

And, boy, does it make her dizzy. Not only that, but her body buzzes with a renewed sense of energy. 

Everything about him, physically, is all encompassing. His cologne is so strong that it’s all she smells. The weight of his body isn’t stifling, but grounding. Even keeping her warm. 

And as her body practically melts into his, the fat of her ass is smushed against his front. 

The press of his print, which happens to lie perfectly between both cheeks, is impossible to ignore. She won’t even bother shifting around to get comfortable. Instead, she succumbs to his hold—too easily—and releases a shaky sigh.

Turns out her guess was right, he is big.

When they step out of the restaurant, yet again do they have to shield their faces from the barrage of cameras and flashes surrounding them.

This time, they run to the car, hopping in as silly laughter pours from them. God, they’re so drunk.

“C’mere … so fuckin’ far.” Ony seems to breathe out the words.

Even in the darkness, the look of lust is written all over him. It’s even swimming around in the air. Her eyes do a full sweep of his body, noting how wide his thick legs are spread. 

Like a minx, she slinks over from her seat and right onto the one he presents to her. 

“Mmh,” he hums, immediately snaking his arms around her small waist and dragging her up higher into his lap. 

She giggles, feeling all of him beneath her.

“You smell good.” He mumbles the words into the warm skin of her neck.

Bliss bends her head down and even sweeps all of her hair over the other shoulder to give him more access to her.

The kisses he lays there are hot and wet, pressed into her warm and soft skin. She shivers. One of his hands press into her lower stomach, keeping her from moving too much.

The pulse between her legs has grown into an ache. Every clench her pussy does is almost painful with how strong it is, even worse now that he’s hard beneath her.

God, why did she pick such a long dress? 

Without thinking, she grounds down onto him, weakly. Onyankopon’s other hand travels upwards the middle of her abdomen. 

She doesn’t focus on his lingering touch. She can’t. Not when he’s sucking a pretty bruise into the side of her neck. Her breathing quickens, and slow, tiny pants leave through her parted lips.

His traveling hand slides up between the valley of her boobs and anchors around her neck just as he lifts his mouth off of her. She bites down on her bottom lip, yet another giggle slips through her teeth.

“Thin-ass dress.” He tightens his grip around her neck. “Might as well have not worn anything.”

His deep voice and his rough hand has her pussy leaking into her panties. He lifts his hips by a fraction, and it pushes a small moan from her.

“Freaky ass lil’ bitch. Got ya titties all out—who’s it for?”

Her eyes flutter shut and she swallows thickly. 

He squeezes another moan out of her. “Hm?”

“Y-you.”

He chuckles. “Got my dick all hard, starin’ at ‘em.”

His hand finally moves, and the skin on her neck is cold. She misses it. But, that’s forgotten when both of his hands cup her heavy breasts.

Bliss arches her back, pushing them further into his warm hands. And, never one to refuse a gift, Ony squeezes them. 

Her body is weak as he plays with them, damn-near juggling them in his hands. And as he laughs, clearly amused by her body’s reaction, she can only try to keep her moans at bay.

“So pretty,” he mumbles before pressing a a kiss to the side of her face. “Pretty ass titties.”

His hands still, only cupping them. Then, his thumbs begin slow circles her pierced nipples through the dress’s thin fabric. Its tiny netting does nothing to shield her body against the gentle caress.

She turns her head to the side, her mouth open and desperate for something to plug it before an embarrassingly loud moan leaves it.

And like her knight in shining armor, Onyankopon indulges her in an open-mouth kiss. He wastes no time, sucking on her tongue.

Around her piercings, his fingers pinch and pull at her nipples. Bliss can’t help it, moaning into his mouth. Her hips rock against his, desperate to finally get on his dick.

When he finally pulls back, they can both breathe. And it’s the first time that they notice music playing through the car’s speakers. 

“Mmh, fuck,” he sighs. Ony sits back in his seat. 

Breathlessly, Bliss fixes her hair, trying to distract herself from the way her body was lit on fire from just kisses and fondling.

Ony looks around the back cavern of the car, quickly finding just what he was looking for: his bottle of Don. It’s stuffed in the side pocket of the car door, calling out for him.

Securing an arm around her waist, Ony leans forward to pick it up out of the car door’s side pocket. When he’s sits back, he pulls the top off the bottle and wastes no time taking a sip.

Busying herself, Bliss grabs her phone from its spot in the cupholder. She opens up Instagram and holds her phone up to snap a couple of clips of herself.

The near darkness of the vehicle is perfect, showing not too much nor too little for the camera to see. And every last clip stays in her drafts.

Still, she’s careful not to get Ony’s face in it, only doing close ups of her face as the music plays.

When Onyankopon finally pulls the bottle away from his face, he sees what she’s doing.

As she records another clip, she zooms in on her body, caressing herself and even showing off her pierced nipples through the dress.

A quick thought puts a smirk on his face. He interrupts, bringing his hand into frame as he squeezes one of her boobs. The ring on his pinky finger glistens under the cameras low flash.

With a surprised gasp, she cuts the clip short.

“Keep recordin’,” he says in her ear, gruffly.

“Why?” She chuckles. “You wanna be seen?”

He scoffs quietly. “That’s cute.” Shifting his hips, he pushes his dick harder against her, just for a bit of spite. “This just for you, though. Don’t post nothing.”

His nose and lips to her neck, his voice in her ear, his hands on her body—she shivers.

Pressing record again. She zooms in on his hand as it gropes her yet again. Very soon after, it slides up and wraps around her neck. She stops the video.

With a giggle, she saves it to her drafts. “Should I send it to you?” She questions, tapping away on her phone.

“Nah, keep that,” he mumbles. Turning his head, Onyankopon peers out of the window, watching the city zoom past them. “Got some other shit planned.”

Thankfully, there’s no paps around. No need for them to rush into the hotel or hide their faces.

As they take their time to get out of the vehicle, Ony’s security surrounds the car.

“Wait—the money,” Bliss worries. 

She’s halfway out of the car, a hand in Ony’s clutch as he’s the one helping her out.

“Don’t trip, I’ma have my people get it for you.” 

As her feet land on the concrete ground, Onyankopon laces an arm laces around her waist, pulling her in close.

“Okay,” she hums, bringing a hand to his chest.

As she looks up into Onyankopon’s low eyes, the lust in them is undeniable. She practically shivers with excitement.

“You cold?” He chuckles, cracking a grill-decorated smile. His perfectly groomed brows even pull together.

God, she’s never noticed how perfect his face looks up close.

Dumbly, she nods, her lips stretching into a wide smile. She watches his eyes flick downward to glimpse at her lips.

“I’ma get you warm soon, right?”

“Mmh, okay.”

Shaking his head, he allows himself to smile wider as he follows his security team into the hotel. 

As he said, two men stay behind to clean up the money at the back of the Rolls Royce. Just for Bliss.

Onyankopon’s room is on the eleventh floor. Normally, one would think that the commute from the hotel lobby to his room—by way of elevator, of course—wouldn’t take much time.

Five minutes, max.

But to Bliss, those five minutes are feeling a lot like thirty, at the very least.

While they waited for the elevator, Onyankopon was all over her. Large hands pulling her in and keeping her close—gripping her ass, too.

She’d whine his name, pushing her face into his chest. Because with the little bit of stragglers lingering in the lobby, there were still wandering eyes.

And he’d tell her, “Let ‘em watch,” because that’s the type of nigga he is. 

‘Rapper’ seems like a fitting title for him.

Oh, but when they finally get in the elevator? Not even his security being there was enough to keep him off of her.

He traps her against the back wall of the elevator. His large hand grasps the junction of her neck and jaw.

There’s tongue involved, far sooner than she thought there would be. But, she’s not complaining. Their heads twist as they suck on each other.

She finds herself moaning into his mouth as he applies pressure around her neck.

Bliss is barely able to pull away with the inch of breath that she was able to escape with. Both their lips are glossed over with spit—slimy and sticky. Their rushed pants quickly dry it, however. 

Before either of them can say anything, the elevator dings with the announcement of their arrival to the eleventh floor.

Only once the door to Ony’s suite shuts, is when they finally lose his security for the night. 

Bliss remains near the door, her first thought to take off her shoes. She keeps a hand on the nearby wall as she unhooks the back of her kitten heel from her foot.

It should take only ten seconds to get both shoes off. Yet, she lingers in that spot well after the time is up. Why?

Well, she’s watching him. 

Watching Onyankopon shrug that heavy jacket off of his wide shoulders and throw it down on the mini bar table. Watching him kick off his shoes. Watching him take a seat on a short leather couch, positioned in the middle of the circular shaped living room.

She isn’t quick enough; He catches her staring.

Her second heel finally drops to the ground. It makes a muted thud against the tiled floor—which is cold against her perfectly manicured feet.

With a tired sigh, Ony leans back against the couch, refusing to break eye contact. “Come.”

A faint smile makes the corner of her lips rise, and an amused scoff leaves her.

This time, Onyankopon watches her.

Watches the way her hips seem to perfectly sway—if even unintentional—with each step. Watches how her boobs bounce softly beneath the tight dress. Watches her land softly on his open lap, throwing an arm around his neck, too.

She throws her purse and phone down onto the cushion next to them, completely disregarding the objects.

Softly, he kisses his teeth, his eyes running over her body. 

“When you gon’ take this fucking dress off?”

She laughs. “When are you gonna take it off me?”

He licks his lips as he reaches behind her to slide a hand up her back, searching blindly for—he found it. 

At the top of her back, at the base of her neck, his fingers collect the small zipper and pulls. He drags it all the way down her spine, until the track stops, right above her ass.

“Now you want me to pull it off or you got that?”

Rolling her eyes, Bliss tugs at the tight sleeves of her dress, pulling her arms out. As she drags the constricting fabric down her body, her boobs spill out. 

The piercings immediately catch his attention. He resists the urge to reach out for them and touch.

Pulling back her hair, she tosses the bundles over a shoulder, allowing him to see everything. For a moment, she stands, only to pull the rest of the dress down.  

When she finally steps out of the pool of her own clothes, the only thing that covers her is that tiny ass G-string.

“Wish I could’a seen you at the show,” he tells her as she comes to sit back down on his lap.

Bliss licks her lips, looking down into his eyes. She hums, gazing at him. “I was dancing and everything.” 

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is soft and hushed, like hers. “Show me how you was dancing.”

She bites down on her lip, trying to stop her smile from growing.

He shifts beneath her, if only to pull out his phone. It’s a seamless process, how he was able to connect his phone to speakers that seem to be connected throughout the entire suite.

She almost laughs, if it weren’t for how serious he is; It’s one of Ony’s songs from his recently released EP. 

“Be my dancer,” he says in her ear, smiling wide.

She almost shivers. 

Wordlessly, she turns her back to him and puts hands on his spread knees. Leaning forward, she starts a slow whine. And Ony is all too happy to watch her ass move in circles right on his lap.

Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulls out a rubber-banded stack, just a bit thinner than those he had at the restaurant. He pops the elastic binding all of the bills together.

The beat changes, and Bliss shakes her ass side-to-side. Ony stretches an arm over her. The quick flick of his thumb pushes fifties and hundreds fluttering over her.

Entranced by the way the fat of her ass moves, he palms one cheek with the other hand.

As he begins to rub, Bliss returns to a slow whine before dropping it in his lap, earning a grunt from him. When she lifts her ass to do it again, Ony smacks it, gripping her immediately after.

Every time, she bounces her ass harder against him. She fights the urge to stop dancing and just solely grind against him, because at this point it’s getting hard to ignore the way he’s poking through his jeans. 

Her bounces grow shorter. The pressure and friction threaten to make her eyes roll back. She’s close to moaning out.

“Shit…” He bites down on his lower lip as he grips the fat of her hip. “Sexy ass lil’ bitch,” he groans.

In all this excitement, he almost forgot what they were doing. Picking the stack back up, he resumes the money shower, allowing the rest of his bills to rain down on her.

She looks back at him over her shoulder, noting the hand in his lap, holding his belt.

Biting down on her lip, Bliss fluidly turns around to get on her knees between his legs. The fallen bills keep her skin from touching the cold tiles.

One hand is positioned on his knee. The other snakes up his other legs, heading towards the buckle of his belt.

“Oh, you wanna get nasty?” His smile is full of mischief.

She nods as she focuses on opening his pants.

“Shiiit, go ‘head.”

And he didn’t need to tell her again. 

Manicured hands pull him out of his boxers. Bliss has to take a minute to cement this moment in her brain. Her heart is pounding in his chest.

He’s heavy in her hand. The very tips of her acrylics just barely touch as she’s wrapped around him. His thickness makes her tummy stir. She can’t wait to take him.

All of those nights she’s spent in bed, imagining him buried deep in her guts—now, it won’t be a toy doing the work. It’ll be the real thing.

Leaning forward, Bliss presses a kiss to the underside of his head. Quickly, she stretches out her tongue and laves it. 

“Don’t try to be cute,” he says through gritted teeth. Immediately, a hand swabs around the back of her head to gather her bundles in a messy, yet tight ponytail. “Suck me up like you do with them toys.”

She opens her mouth wide. Carefully tucking her teeth, Bliss engulfs his entire tip. She keeps him between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, sucking.

Her pace isn’t necessarily slow, that wasn’t even her intention. But, she’s not fast enough, either.

The hand in her hair guides her, encouraging a smooth push-and-pull of her head.

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Oou, just like that. Yeah—relax that throat.”

Her hands stretch across his denim-dressed knee caps, squeezing tighter as she struggles to keep up.

There’s a soft clinch in her face, eyes watering, as she gently gags.

“M-make sure you get that shit wet—mmh. Get it messy … just like that, get my dick messy.”

His voice softly coaxes her on. The firm grip on her hair paired with his commands has her doing everything he wants, and probably more.

His pace picks up, his force getting rougher. And even beneath the thick fans of her lash extensions, he can see her eyes rolling back.

Her gags are heavier, louder. His dick stabs her throat, causing wet clicks every time he touches the back of it. 

He groans out, his stomach clinching, as he feels her tighten around him.

“Sshit!” He laughs, her choking music to his ears. With a hiccup, a large rivulets of spit leak from her puckered lips and drips down his dick. “Yeaaah, just like that!”

As he chuckles over her, her pussy bares down on nothing. Her body is obsessed with the way he sounds.

It’s messy—so messy. Frothy bubbles of spit and cum gather at the rounded corners of her mouth. Thick globs hang from her lips, some of it even rolls down her neck. But all of it drips onto her bare chest, sticking to smooth skin.

And she doesn’t intend to do anything about it. The only goal she aims to accomplish at the moment is taking this dick without throwing up all over it.

Ony hooks a hand on the underside of her jaw as the other only tightens around her hair. All movement of her head is halted and the brief moment of stillness allows her to breathe properly—through her nose, of course.

“You gon’ swallow?”

“Mhm,” she nods eagerly. The fragile hum crackled as it left her.

Ony gazes down into her tear-filled eyes. He notes the mess clouding the bottom of her pretty face

“Sure?”

Her muffled ‘yes’ almost makes him laugh. She can hardly speak around his dick.

“Aight then.”

This time, he’s driving his hips forward, face-fucking her. Bliss lurches forward, hacking as he drills her throat. Yet she doesn’t tell him to stop. Nor does she pull away or even tap his thigh.

“C’mon,” he grunts, the deepest scowl on his face. “Take this dick, take this … f-fucking dick.”

Her body goes pliant as she allows him to use her face like a toy. However, her lips remain tight around him. She doesn’t even try to keep the spit from falling out of her mouth.

The longer he continues, his dick glides in and out of her lips. It’s all so slippery, she gags less and less with every thrust.

There is no announcement of his arrival. Only one more brutal thrust before he presses his hips to her face. They occasionally twitch as he shoots thick ropes of cum down her throat.

She almost chokes. Almost. It’s difficult to swallow his load around his dick, she lets out a gag or two.

When he finally drags himself out of her mouth, webs of spit and cum stretch between his tip and her swollen lips. She heaves, his hanging dick still in her face.

Too focused on gathering her breath, Bliss doesn’t see as he pulls his shirt off.

“Lift ya head,” he says, a soft hand cradling the back of hers.

Bliss looks up, staring into his eyes as he uses his Coogi shirt to wipe the muck off of her face.

His brows are furrowed as he concentrates on cleaning her off. “Yeah … can’t have all this shit drying on ya skin.” He even goes as far as to get her neck and chest. “Aight … there. You good now.” 

He pats her cheek with a smile, earning a giggle from the woman on her knees.

“Thank you.”

He outstretches a hand, helping her up on her two feet.

“It’s nothing,” he says softly. Using his soiled shirt, he wipes down his dick and inner thighs. And when he’s done, he tosses it aside.

As Ony is pulling up his pants, his dark eyes roaming her bare body, he gets an idea—eager to have her participate in it.

“You tryna smoke?”

•

The blunt shakes between her unsteady fingers. She doesn’t get a good inhale in—can hardly even pass it back to him.

Onyankopon does her a favor, taking the blunt back as he pushes his dick back in.

“Oou—shit.” Her shaky groan is music to his ears.

Holding the thick blunt between his lips, he takes his time bottoming out, both hands on her hips.

Her pussy flutters around him, her stomach stirring. This is the deepest he’s gotten, feeling his tip smushed against her cervix. Her head’s dizzy.

“Fuuuck, Onyy—“ A weak hand, hesitant in nature, cradles her lower tummy,

“I’m deep?”

“Mh—yes.” Her breath hitches.

He lifts a hand from her skin to pluck the blunt from between his lips. A thin cloud of smoke puffs from his nose.

“You could handle it,” he rasps. 

The slowly burning blunt dries his throat out, almost makes it scratchy. And yet the wetness between Bliss’ thighs makes it easy to forget the minor discomfort.

A shaky gasp slips from her mouth as he begins a slow stroke. It’s no surprise to her when—even as he’s the one fucking her—he pulls her back by the hips. The quiet clap of her ass against his pelvis and thighs cheers him on. It encourages him.

He wants her to be louder. He wants to hear more.

One minute he’s delivering slow, deep strokes, letting her body sing. Her pussy’s got a vice-like grip around him as it creams around him. Before long, she’s gripping the sheets tight and her legs tremble. 

Blunt be damned; Onyankopon drops it onto the floor in favor of focusing on the woman below him.

Her moans are loud and guttural as his dick punches her stomach from the inside. Even as they’re loud, the bed’s pristine, white sheets weaken the sounds.

And that just isn’t doing it for him.

“Nah, c’mere—“

Fingers grip her hair to yank her face out of the sheets. Her neck strains as her head is angled so far back, that she catches sight of something she’d been too horny to even see before: the mirror above the bed.

She’s got a clear eye-view of herself getting fucked as roughly as she’s always dreamed. It makes her clench down on him harder, she even whimpers seeing it. In such a fucked out state, it’s a drug seeing the way her body ricochets against his.

A small part of her is embarrassed seeing the faces she makes, she’s out of it. Yet, she loves it all the same. With Onyankopon as another set of eyes, she loves it even more—being watched while he turns her out.

Moan after moan pours from her lips until her throat is sore, and even then she still continues to yell at the top of her lungs about how good his dick is.

“Yes—yes! So … fuckin’ big—oh fuck!”

It’s impossible  to keep her grip on reality. Her knees can barely hold her up. The sweet pain in her lower stomach has her eyes rolling back. Ony tugs at her roots harder.

“Know you see yourself,” he grunts. “Know you see how I’m fuckin’ you.”

His smirk and breathless voice is just the cherry on top—she trembles as she squirts on him. But her release doesn’t make him slow down. In fact, Onyankopon goes harder.

“Mhm … cream on my shit. Squirt on my shit—drown me.”

Every time she tries to look at their reflection her eyes either crossed or she just can’t keep them open. All of her strength is reduced to nothing.

Onyankopon’s strokes, which hold an ungodly amount of force behind them, shakes the woman to her core. It knocks the air from her chest. 

A choked noise followed by heavy breathing is all that her body can muster. Seeing his response, Ony does it again, loving how it leaves her breathless and with no sound. 

He does it again. And again. And again. The clapping of skin is deafening to Bliss’s ears. Her vision blurs and all her body can do is focus on one thing at a time. All sounds begin to fade out. She can only spotlight the repeating jabs to her insides.

Every time she tightens around him, he finds it harder to hold back. But he keeps up. The faster he goes, the more sloppy and less accurate he becomes. 

As they continue on it doesn’t matter, Bliss is so close to another release, that it would only take a couple of these blind thrusts for her to cum again. 

“Shiiit!”

“What? It’s not enough?” He pulls out, and quickly thrusts back in, feeling triumphant when she yelps out.

“T-too mu—much,” she hisses.

He pulls out and she gasps, her body clenching around nothing. He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head against her lips. He smears her cream around with his latex-covered tip.

She’s been stretched open, making it all too easy for him to see the creamy pinkness typically hidden behind brown lips. It’s a sight for sure, one that he can’t look away from as she pushes out some of her previous release.

However, he hadn’t realized that he was pressed for time; Bliss whines out, pushing back on him. Even her cunt clenches down, like it missed the fullness.

“C’mon,” she mumbles into the sheets.

He laughs. “You was just crying it was ’too much.’”

A brief moment of strength strikes her as she pulls her head out of the pillows to look back at him. “Put it in, Ony!”

With little to no effort, on account of how wet she was, he slips right back in, granting her that satisfying feeling of being stuffed. 

She moans sweetly and drops her head into the sheets, a long groan moving past her lips and he rolled his hips. The feeling of him stroking her insides, so good, better than good. 

It was great, and her eyes rolling back were evidence of that. He pulls out and pushes back in, repeating that movement at a fast pace. She sank her teeth into her lip, trying to stop herself from being too loud.

Bringing her hips up higher, Onyankopon achieves a better angle. She was getting drunk off his strokes, as well as the sound of him blowing her back out.

“Oh—oh… God,” she drawls.

The pleasure is overwhelming and she scoots up, trying to lessen the hits to her guts.

“Oh, so you runnin’? I thought you wanted me to beat it up?”

He pulls her back and holds onto her shoulders. Applying pressure, he uses that leverage to repeatedly bring her back on him, his thrusts hitting harder and deeper..

“Oh fuuuck,” she groaned and gasps, shutting her eyes to stop them from rolling back.

“You confusin’ me, mama.”

He’s reveling in the tight, warm and wet hug her body offers. He looks down, noting how her her body coats his dick in her cum.

“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” she whines.

He smacks her ass and keeps going.

“Oh shit…” he groans. “So… fuckin’ good,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling.

Bliss’s whimpers bring him back. Her thighs shake and her arch comes undone. 

In a flash, the desire to see her face again hits him like a freight train. And what other choice does he have but to do something about it?

It’s hard, but Onyankopon pulls out. Using what’s left of his strength, he flips her over on her back and drags her body to the edge of the bed. He’s wordless in his actions, she’ll see his point very soon. 

But, for now, Bliss sits up on her elbows to watch with tired confusion as he moves her.

Strong hands grabs her thighs and pull her flush against his front, eliciting a yelp from her. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, giving him the perfect opportunity to lift her hips completely off the bed.

“What the fuck?” She laughs, her fatigue so apparent in her hoarse voice. 

She has to make a great effort to hold herself up. Of course, Ony holds her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing some type of work. 

“Trying something different. You good with this?”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a position. It excites her, makes her giddy. It even brings a renewed sense of excitement and energy to her body. Her hair falls in her face as she gives a loose nod.

The muscles in his bicep flex as he transfers all of her weight to one hand, busying the other as he grabs himself. Just like this, she’s like a five-star meal placed before him, ready for him to demolish. 

He gives himself two quick tugs before aligning with her weeping center and slowly pushing back in.

The stretch is wonderful every time, evidenced by the way Bliss throws her head back.

He fucks into her, holding onto her hips so tight that his thumbs press against her hip bones. She writhes, and her legs damn near squeeze the life out of him as he hits spots in her that she didn’t even think to be possible.

“Keep squeezin’ me like that—yeah,” he groans out, throwing his head back as well.

Her moans seem to have run out despite her mouth hanging wide open. She’s completely silent, unable to scream as he digs her out.

“Uh—fuck, I’m ‘bout to c-cum—” Ony’s resolve seems to be cracking as his voice waivers with his moans.

Her legs tremble and her pretty toes curl so tight that her feet almost cramp up.

A burning heat flashes throughout his body as his orgasm catches him by surprise. His mouth drops open and his muscles tense before he leans down, dropping them back onto the mattress as he pushes his face into her neck. 

Senselessly, Onyankopon ruts into her, riding out his nut until he stops filling the condom. The overstimulation pushes Bliss over the edge as well. 

Her orgasm comes crashing down around them as her pussy clenches down on him, only wetting his dick further. She hugs him close, keeping him from pulling out too soon.

“Awe fuck,” he mumbles. As his lips had moved against the skin of her neck, it tickles her.

She giggles.

“Fuck you laughing for?” 

She can hear the smile in his voice.

“Tickles,” she breathes out. Shifting beneath him, she can still feel him inside of her, softening by the minute.

His chest rumbles with a deep sigh. “This shit got me … wantin’ to pass out.”

She hums in agreement, slowly dragging a hand up and down his back. His body is hot, a bit sweaty, too. She doesn’t doubt that hers feels the same way to him.

Movements filled with fatigue, Onyankopon pushes himself up to look down at her. Her makeup is definitely fucked up, courtesy of tonight’s events. And yet, he can’t stop himself from smiling when he stares at her.

“What?” She laughs, growing just a little bit shy.

“You better than a fuckin’ blunt after a show.”

She breaks into a full on laugh, giving him a much clearer view of her cute gap. “Thanks?”

“Nah,”  he says, shaking his head. “I definitely gotta keep you around.”

And even if he didn’t want to, Bliss doesn’t think she’d let him go.

…

Taglist -> @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @nova2kss

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[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

----------------

You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

----------------

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

Stuck On You

water park employee!Vernon x fem!corporate spy!Reader

Genre: strangers to lovers summery fluff with a healthy dose of coming of age angst

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: alcohol and food mentions. adult language. accidental injuries and blood. some relatively small-time crimes committed out of necessity. incoherent ramblings of a young woman driven to insanity and too ambitious of a plot for me to know what to do with.

[Waterpark AU] When you were sent on a corporate espionage mission, you expected to find many things – some dirty secrets, maybe a scandal or two –, not a soulmate and a week you’ll never forget.

♡ This fic is part of @camandemstudios Carat Bay Collab! Please check out the other writer’s works as well! They’ve all worked so hard!! ♡

“Alright, Miss Lawrence. I’ll have the staff take your luggage to your room immediately.”

You forced a smile on your face and prayed it looked nothing like the grimace it felt like. Either your boss had given you the wrong ticket or you were about to add a fake identity to your suddenly very rapidly growing list of sins – you suspected the latter was more likely. 

It seemed to convince the receptionist just fine as she offered you a toothy grin, her braces proud on display. “Enjoy your stay at Carat Bay!”

With a nod, you left to explore the park and tried to remind yourself the poor teenager probably did not get paid enough to bother looking into your real identity. The thought did little to comfort you.

You adjusted your wide-brimmed sun hat – an impulse purchase you had made under the guise of doing your job with a flourish – and tried your hardest to avoid the eyes of the water park staff, almost stumbling over a small child in the process.

“I’m so sorry,” you told the little boy’s mother. She only replied with a squinty scowl and a huff before ushering him away from you as if you were a danger to society.

She’d surely complain about it to a staff member in an effort to have you banned – she seemed like the type. But you had worked at a water park long enough to know that the staff rarely had the time to deal with such small conflicts. At most, they’d give her a non-committal nod, a promise to look into it with a half-hearted (if she’s lucky) apology, before rolling their eyes and returning to the more important task of cleaning a strange chunk of (what they could only hope used to be) smoothie out of the pool filter.

Shaking the thought from your head with a shudder, you continued on your way, this time a bit more cautious of possible child-sized obstacles in your path.

It was an arduous process but before long you made it to the poolside bar, having tripped over only two more children and a French bulldog. The latter incident inspired you to add the line ‘dog-friendly’ to your bright pink and glittery research/espionage notebook. You underlined it with a pink glitter pen you found at the bar while you waited for the bartender to notice you and serve you a milkshake.

A wide grin on his face, he gave you a sprite instead and you thanked him with a grateful smile and reminded yourself that at least this whole experience was on the company’s tab and not your own.

Your notebook earned another line: ‘make sure bar customers get their correct order’.

“Cute pen,” someone spoke from your side just as the heart-shaped dot on the ‘i’ took shape.

You nearly jumped out of your seat at the sound before turning to face him. “Excuse me?”

He offered a confused – and damnably handsome – smile. A sunbeam shone into his eyes and made them look honey golden; the beauty of it was short-lived when he lifted a hand to shield his eyes from the bright light, revealing a gentle and far less exciting brown instead. With his other hand, he pointed at your pen. “I said it looks cute.”

“Oh.” You couldn’t find any words to say; it seemed they had disappeared alongside the golden colour. “Thanks.”

He nodded and turned to the bartender. You watched in silence as he ordered a milkshake, bubbling with jealousy when the bartender got his order right. You glared at your sprite.

“So,” the man once again spoke up while stirring his milkshake with a red-striped straw, “what are you writing?”

“Nothing.” Your reply was too quick. You knew it was. He would ask for a follow-up just because you had sounded so suspicious; you were certain he would. As if it would rectify your error, you added, “Just a poem.”

Maybe you deserved to get a sprite instead of a milkshake: you were proving to be a terrible spy. There was no way he wouldn’t wonder further and sniff out your begrudging lies.

Trying your hardest to act nonchalant, you met his eyes and smiled tightly. Your gaze travelled lower by accident a moment later; throwing your notebook into the pool began sounding like a good escape plan. He was wearing a damned staff shirt. Of course he worked here. You were about to be found out not by a park enjoyer (a no-doubt humiliating but somehow the more preferable option) but  instead by an actual staff member.

Holding your breath, you could already imagine your gravestone: Here lies (Y/n), daughter, friend, and a corporate spy with an impressive track record of 15 whole minutes.

“That’s cool,” he said and your heart threatened to race out of your chest in panic.

“I like poems,” he added with an appreciative nod and you were about to start crying.

Then his words hit. Like a car stalling right after revving up, the noise and panic in your brain stopped. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged and got out of his seat, milkshake in hand. His lips turned up into a friendly smile and his hand rose to wave before he turned to leave. “I’ll see you around.”

Maybe you were a more convincing spy than you had thought.

When the guy at the bar said ‘see you around’, you hadn’t realised he’d meant it literally. Maybe he wasn’t as harmless as he had managed to convince you. Maybe he was a counter-spy sent to keep track of your wrongdoings. Maybe he was a ghost or a demon sent to haunt you for your misdeeds.

Either way, it seemed you could not escape him even when you tried. And you had been trying (at least that’s what you told yourself as if your heart didn’t skip a tiny excited beat every time you saw anyone that even lightly resembled him; you silently cursed your romance-deprived heart that seemed to beat harder for every pretty man).

You’ve tried walking in the opposite direction every time you caught sight of a light blue Carat Bay Staff t-shirt, strategically placing your hat and notebook to disguise your person, changing your entire outfit to look like someone else, hiding in bushes… Hiding in bushes! But he was unrelenting. Forever and always a presence in your periphery, offering you bright friendly smiles every time you made accidental eye contact – like you were friends and not at all the enemies you had declared the two of you to be.

He was a constant reminder that you were selling your loyalty and blank slots on your still non-existent criminal record for minimum wage. And, god, did that reminder sting your pride.

On the second day of espionage, you decided to give up on avoiding him. A quick surrender, you had to admit, but it had become blatantly clear that this man was incapable of staying out of your sight (quite an achievement, one must admit, because the park wasn’t all that small). After being on the receiving end of his curious stare for the fifth time in an hour, you decided that if he was going to spoil your assignment, you might as well welcome him with open arms.

Who knows, you bitterly thought, maybe if you get caught, you’ll finally have an excuse to look for a new job?

That idea sounded more and more like a viable option with every passing hour you spent fighting for your life at Carat Bay Water Park while your boss had the audacity to act like you weren’t risking your clean criminal record for his financial gain.

Reminders came through via work chats, emails, even texts every cursed hour. Each ‘make sure you get examples; photos, lots of photos’ and ‘I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Miss’ made you spiral just a little more. And every familiar grin and a glimpse of honey-brown eyes in the sunlight made you want to throw up with guilt.

And you couldn’t even drown your stress in alcohol because the damned bartender never got your order right. You gave up on trying after you’d ordered a mojito and he gave you a plain canned Fanta.

“Not even a Sprite?” you’d asked in frustration but downed the drink anyway, pretending the bubbles were hints of sorely missed alcohol.

Sat by your side, the honey-eyed blue-shirt-wearing poetry-liking unrelentingly-present staff member nearly choked on his milkshake at your words. You couldn’t even be annoyed at his presence because you were just happy someone had heard your complaint – god knows the bartender hadn’t.

He worked at the wave pool. Of course he did. Where else could he possibly work at if not your favourite water park attraction? It was like the universe was desperate to get you to talk to him.

It only took one accidental brush of a teen’s hand against your ankle, one shriek, a jump, some unfortunate timing, and the next thing you knew, the waves had swept you under the water, palms and knees bleeding from impact with the floor. You would be sure to add this unfortunate incident to your espionage notebook; maybe even to the resignation letter you were on the verge of drafting.

Now, with watery eyes, sobbing your little heart out, hyperventilating between dramatic exclamations about how much you hated your job, you sat in a cabana near the wave pool as the handsome staff member you had met at the bar – an increasingly perfect man if you’d ever seen one – carefully cleaned your freshly marred knees. Now you didn’t even have an excuse to avoid crushing on him like an excited schoolgirl.

“So, a corporate spy, huh?” he finally concluded once you’d finally calmed down a bit. His eyes still gleamed honey golden in the rays of sun when he glanced up at you with all the curiosity in the world. “How does one even get into that?”

You didn’t have an answer. It’s not like you had wanted to do this in the first place. You hiccuped. “Well, I thought it would be better than working the water slide.”

“I think most jobs are,” he tried to joke but you both knew that wasn’t too far from the truth. The flash of horror in his eyes told you he’d seen more than two seasons at the top of the slides, measuring rebellious kids, arguing with parents who thought their child should be the exception to every rule, and rescuing fearful teenagers who had gotten stuck in the attraction. At least you had that much in common.

“Yeah, well,” you shrugged and let out a watery laugh as you leaned back in the beach chair, “it seems I’m not cut out to be a corporate spy, so I guess I’ll just go back to the slides of hell.”

The young man – Vernon as his palm-tree adorned name tag informed you – let out a sympathetic noise. “I’m sure you’re not that bad.”

There was a sense of irony in the fact that he was comforting you about your spying abilities. After all, you were enemies, if nothing else: employees of two rival water parks, always squabbling about visitor statistics, the best new water slides, and customer satisfaction. This man was not supposed to be helping you at all. He was supposed to half-heartedly glare at you and tell you to please vacate the premises and never step foot in Carat Bay again. Instead, he looked up at you with beautiful brown eyes and offered gentle apologies whenever you winced at the touch of the antiseptic.

“I hid in a bush near the bar,” you reminded him because you were, in fact, that bad.

And he couldn’t even argue because he had been there, watching you hide in that bush for fifteen minutes.

(In your defence, you had merely meant to squat down for a second to jot some notes down in your notebook without feeling paranoid about someone reading over your shoulder. But then it had been two minutes and people were walking past and there was a gaggle of schoolkids running by – there was simply no good time to get up without drawing suspicious looks and possibly being reprimanded by a park employee.

Unbeknownst to you, Vernon had been sitting at a table some metres from the aforementioned bush, enjoying his lunch-break milkshake and silently witnessing your miniature crisis. You’d made shameful eye contact with him when you finally found the courage to leave.)

“Well. Not your smartest move.” He now struggled to find words to say. “But it could always be worse?”

“How could it possibly be worse?” you bemoaned and hid your face your hands.

Vernon shrugged. “You could’ve accidentally unleashed murder hornets in the park.” You let out something akin to but not quite yet a laugh. He seemed to take it as encouragement. “Or you could’ve started a civil war between the pool attendants and the sanitation staff.” You felt your lips quirk into a smile. “You could’ve accidentally pushed an unsuspecting granny down the Monster.”

You peaked one eye open. “Is that the water slide?”

“The tallest one, yeah,” he happily reported, chuckling along when you burst into quiet laughter. “But you didn’t do any of that, so I think you’re good.”

You had to admit he wasn’t entirely wrong. Next to those three feats, your little bush crisis seemed like a pretty mild wrong. Beside, surely there have been far worse spies in the world.

“I could’ve broken into the owner’s office and gotten locked in there, never to be found again,” you finally joked after a pause of thought. Vernon gasped dramatically before laughing along. You felt better already.

“You would’ve been stuck for a while,” he told you and returned back to his initial task of fixing your knees. “He only comes by, like, once a month and not even the cleaning staff is allowed in there.”

Your brows furrowed. “Seriously?”

“Last I heard he’s vacationing in the Bahamas. Won’t be here for a while.” He glanced up again, offering a lopsided smirk that looked almost conspiratory. “So if you want to sneak in, now’s as good a time as any.” You stared at him in utter disbelief. He only shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“You—” You cut yourself off before you could say anything incriminating. Running a hand over your face, you finally managed to mumble just loudly enough for him to hear, “Aren’t you supposed to report me to a supervisor or something? Have me arrested and put in spy jail?”

Vernon shrugged once more. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides,” he smoothed the Princess Ariel themed band-aid on your knee, “you look like you need a buddy.”

Warning alarms blaring in the back of your mind, you stared at him. A buddy? Did corporate spies even have any buddies? You had always thought collecting company secrets was more of a one-person job. And even if it weren’t, teaming up with an employee of the rival park was definitely a major risk – one you should’ve been smart enough to avoid.

“Is this your audition to be my co-conspirator?” you asked after a long pause of silent thought. “Or is it a trick to send me to jail?”

It looked like the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “The first one, I think?” When you didn’t react, he added, “And if not, I don’t think you’d last very long in jail anyway, with how clumsy you are. Might as well enjoy your last days of freedom.”

You rolled your eyes – you had only known this man for three days and he was already attacking your fragile ego. “I’m not even clumsy—”

“You got injured in the wave pool,” he countered.

“Lots of people do!”

“Yeah, but not in the shallow end of the pool though.”

Your cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “It’s not my fault some kid decided to play alligator right next to me. You try not to get startled when someone’s tiny fingers start tickling your feet.”

“Play alligator?” His face scrunched up into a grimace. “What does that even mean?”

“Nevermind.” You groaned, closed your eyes, and held out your hands, wrists neatly pressed against each other. “Just take me straight to jail, actually.”

Seconds later, a warm hand wrapped around your wrists. A loud squeak of surprise tore out of your throat at the feeling. You blinked your eyes wide open just in time to see Vernon grinning as he pulled you up to your feet, your hands still in his warm, steady grip.

“Come on,” he finally spoke when you found your balance, his breath tickling your cheeks with how close you were, “we have a spying to do.”

You laughed, nervous at the sudden proximity, unable to say no, and rapidly falling for your new ally. “We do?” More determined and ready than you could ever be, he nodded. “Don’t you have to work?”

As if he hadn’t even thought of that, his lips parted to say something but he remained silent as he fished his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. He gave it a quick glance before shoving it back where it belonged and smiling bright.

“My shift ended half an hour ago. So,” he looked around the park, “where do you want to go next?”

Within an hour, Vernon proved himself to be a worthwhile informant in Carat Bay. While he definitely did not have the answers you were looking for (“Guest statistics?” He puffed out his cheeks in thought, brows furrowing, before shaking his head. “Sorry, I usually just nap through those meetings.”), he more than made up for it with enthusiasm and random fun facts (“If you punch in 2605 at the ticketing machine,” he told you while doing exactly that, a mischievous smile on his face, “you get free drink coupons for the bar.”).

Unfortunately for you and your job security, this only served to make you forget about your work as a whole. As minutes ticked by, filled with laughter and jokes and Vernon’s dry remarks about the injury statistics (the only statistics he apparently didn’t sleep through at meetings), your corporate espionage mission started to feel more and more like just an afternoon with a friend.

“You know, when I first came here, the bartender got my order wrong,” you told him while swirling your virgin mojito around with a straw. “Gave me a sprite instead of a milkshake.”

Vernon didn’t even seem surprised. “Yeah, they do that sometimes.”

“Is that normal here?” You suspected you resembled an owl with your widening eyes. “People not getting their order?”

He shrugged. “It’s a water park. The people aren’t here for the milkshakes anyway. Are you?”

How this water park had any loyal visitors was beyond you. It was becoming increasingly obvious Riptide Reef, the park that had been employing you since you were 16, had far superior customer service. You tried to take some pride in that.

“Well, I’m not exactly here for the water slides either,” you reminded him with scoff. As your own words sunk in, you found yourself scratching your temple in realisation. “Fuck, it’s my third day here and I haven’t even made any notes yet. My boss is going to kill me.”

“What would you even note?” he wondered. “That the water slides are tall and the bartender sucks?”

“For starters,” you mumbled under your breath and took a long sip of of your mojito. You cringed at the taste before pulling out your phone and opening the notes app – you would add everything to your notebook once you got to your room. It made no sense to carry a notebook around on your water park activities, even if you really liked the aesthetic of it. “And that you use the cheapest unripe limes ever.”

Vernon looked at you as if some thought was forming in his head. Then he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s probably right.”

“Also that your wave pool is beyond dangerous,” you couldn’t stop yourself from adding as your eyes slid over the still-fresh scratches on your hands and legs.

His face was an odd mix of a smile and a frown. As if you had just said something beyond ridiculous and odd. As if you had just tried to convince him the Earth was shaped like a ladybug. “It’s really not.”

Your eyes narrowed. “You’re just obligated to say that because it’s your attraction.”

He contemplated for a moment, his tongue running over his bottom lip as he tried to think of the appropriate response. Unable to find one, he took a long sip of his lemonade. He sputtered right after, eyes squeezing shut at the taste. After a moment of grimacing through the acidity, he finally opened his eyes again and whispered, “You might want to add lemons to the list of grievances.”

Handing him a tissue to clean his face, you couldn’t help but laugh. “How is this place still running?” But it wasn’t just running, was it? You corrected yourself quickly, “Scratch that. How is this place so popular?”

“Not for the lemonade, I can tell you that much,” he chuckled and gave a nearby trash can a longing glance. After a moment of silence, his brows furrowed. “You know, I’ve never really thought about all of that. Maybe they like the scenery? The rides?”

“Maybe the ride attendants are hot,” you added as an afterthought without really meaning to.

Vernon didn’t even flinch. “I mean, for sure. Plenty of girls come here just to watch Mingyu haul the floats out of the lazy river. They have a whole fan club thing going on.”

You had no reason to doubt him. You silently added it to your notes.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” he suddenly asked.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the casual tone of it all. You barely knew him. Just a few hours ago you had thought him to be the enemy. And yet here he sat now, looking at you with curious eyes and a friendly smile as he waited for further instructions – like an actual friend.

“We?” you repeated, feeling dumb all of a sudden.

He shrugged. “Yeah. I’m your conspiracy buddy now. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh.” It hadn’t even occurred to you that he might want to keep doing this.

“So what are our plans?” he asked again, chuckling a little at the blank look on your face.

You felt your face get hot under his gaze and tried your hardest to hide it. “Well, I wanted to give the lazy river a try. And maybe one or two of the slides.”

Silent for a moment as if expecting you to continue, he raised a brow. “That’s all?”

Considering you had barely had any idea what attractions the park even had before you got here (you made a mental reminder to add both the outdated website and maps around the park to your report), you took mild offence to his remark. “Well, what do you suggest then?”

The wide grin on his face made your body shiver with anticipation and fear.

“I’ve got an idea or two.”

He knocked on your door at 5 am, sharp. Whatever sparks of a crush had filled your heart the previous day now stood in ashes as you glared at him. They began to smolder just a little when he handed you a small container of cookies and a to-go cup of coffee.

“Doesn’t the park open at 10?” you wondered, voice still hoarse from the hours of sleep, and walked next to him at a leisurely pace.

Vernon kept his voice low as if mirroring you. “Not officially it doesn’t. But employees can come and chill until opening.”

Your sleep-fuzzy mind reminded you that Riptide Reef had no such policy. You weren’t entirely sure the company even allowed you to be on the property outside of official opening hours. Arresting employees for after-hours trespassing didn’t sound outside of the scope of possibilities, really. Maybe Carat Bay wasn’t so bad after all.

It was far more peaceful at this hour, you had to admit. Something about the early rays of sunshine reflecting off the various pools made it seem like a tiny piece of paradise. No running children, no scornful adults, no bartender to mix up your order. You took a breath of the serenity and tried to savour it.

“So you just, what? Go down the water slides and swim a couple of laps?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It makes the day a bit more tolerable.”

You went to argue, but as if on cue, a loud scream of exhilaration echoed in the park. You turned and watched with mild amusement as a young man barrelled down the tallest slide, his bleached blond hair flowing in the wind. He landed in the pool with a deafening splash before resurfacing with a laugh. Looking up, he called out loud enough for the entire park to hear: “Come on! It’s your turn!”

Another man stood at the top of the slide and sighed so heavily you could see it all the way from your spot on the ground. Then he stretched his arms and legs before jumping right down the slide as well. If he made any noise, it was drowned out by the encouraging shouts of his friend in the pool below.

To answer your questioning glance, Vernon smiled wide. “Soonyoung and Jihoon. Our best lifeguards. They always work the same shift because the last time they didn’t, Soonyoung threatened to overthrow the management.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Because the management thought they were too chaotic together. Which, to be fair, they are. But Soonyoung on his own is ten times worse, so.” He shrugged.

“He was successful then. Huh.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the mental image of the chaos. “Maybe I should’ve asked him to be my co-conspirator instead.”

Vernon made a loud noise of disapproval. His hand fell to your wrist and just as the men in the pool turned to greet the two of you, he was dragging you past the large pool and towards the river that ran through the park.

“Where are we going anyway?” you finally wondered, trying your hardest to not think about the warmth of his hand in yours. But there was no denying it. Your fluttering heart confirmed your fears: your damned crush was back.

His fingers slid between yours almost thoughtlessly, naturally even. Maybe, your sleep-deprived heart dared to entertain hope, maybe he likes me too.

“Have you ever been on a sailboat before?” he suddenly asked, turning to smile at you as he lead you closer to something that looked awfully lot like a tiny dock.

“A sailboat? You guys have a sailboat?”

“A few, actually.” His nonchalance was awfully attractive. “The guests love those things.”

The idea sounded like fun. In theory. But even then you felt your palms getting clammy, your smile becoming increasingly more tense and insincere. Reality hit minutes later, when Vernon jumped onto a boat and began unfurling its light blue fabric sail.

It was a small boat, barely large enough to hold maybe three people – a pair of adults and a pair of small children, at maximum. It had a single mast, a single sail, some oars, something like a bench in the middle and some life jackets under it. You felt yourself starting to shiver with fear.

Vernon extended a hand from his place on the boat, offering you an encouraging smile when you hesitated. “It’s okay. It’s only looks scary.”

“How many times have you done this exactly?” you dared to ask as you took his hand and slowly moved onto the wooden construction. It swayed under your feet as if daring you to take another step before it would capsize and throw you overboard. Vernon’s grip on your hand seemed to tighten; or maybe it was your own grip on his hand that became stronger. Whatever the reason, it was strong and steady and made you feel safe.

He hummed in thought and gently pushed the boat away from the dock just as you sat onto the bench. “A few times. Maybe ten? I’ve gone overboard at least twice though.”

Not exactly an encouraging statistic. Perhaps you were dumb to trust and like a man you barely knew. Perhaps it was time to fix that.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

He blinked at you, surprised. “Like what?”

“Anything,” you practically wailed, desperate for a distraction. “Who taught you to sail?”

“No one,” he said and sat down next to you, letting the sail do its job. His ease made you suspect the boats were more foolproof than you had feared. It eased your anxiety just a tiny bit. “I taught myself back when I first came work here. It was my second day, I think? My manager told me to walk around and test out some attractions.” He shrugged. “The boats seemed like fun. I got on one, I tried it out, almost broke the entire thing, went overboard, and then I tried again two days later.”

You had to admire his tenacity. “I think I wouldn’t touch this thing for another five years if that happened to me.”

“I’m not really one to give up.”

Your heart stuttered at the look in his eyes: intense, passionate, thoughtful. Like it was a promise of something else. Like he meant it. You looked away and admitted defeat. If the universe expected you not to fall for this guy, it was doing a horrible job because you were pretty sure no man had ever made you feel so flustered with just a few words.

Maybe the silence that followed was too much for him. Maybe he was as nervous as you were. Whatever the reason, he nudged your hand. “Your turn?”

“What?” you startled out of your thoughts.

“Tell me something about yourself.”

You hesitated. “Like what?”

“If you weren’t the worst corporate spy in the world,” he started with a small teasing smile, “what would you do for a living?”

The million dollar question. You had been asking yourself the very same thing for years now, feeling increasingly less content in your dead-end water park job.

“Who knows?” you answered with a shrug. “Everything I should want to do I’m underqualified for. Everything I do want to do I’m not good enough for. I’d probably still be working at the water slides, hoping someone would show up with a red flashing sign telling me what to do and where to go.”

“No dreams then?”

“Only to get out of Riptide Reef. To get out of my home town and find someone who understands.” You cringed at your own words. You hadn’t meant to say that much, you never did. “Sorry, that was—”

“Completely normal,” he assured you and squeezed your hand. “You know, maybe this job was exactly that: a sign. Maybe you were meant to come here to find your purpose.”

Your laugh sounded anything but real. “Yeah, sure. That’s possible.”

“It is!”

“Alright, Socrates,” you teased and nudged his foot with your own, “what’s your dream then?”

His answer was instant. No thoughts, no hesitation, no doubts about it all. “To be happy.”

It sounded dumb at first. So dumb that you almost laughed, lips already quirking upwards in preparation for it. But then you realised it wasn’t, not at all. You felt your face fall at the realisation that he’d effortlessly unlocked the very code you had been so desperate to crack.

To be happy – isn’t that the ultimate goal in life as a whole? Isn’t that your goal?

“Doesn’t matter where or how,” he continued after a thoughtful pause. “One day I just want to sit down and think back to my life and smile. No regrets – no real ones anyway. Just happiness, fulfilment. It’s one thing to accomplish something, but it’s another to feel joy about it, you know?”

Perhaps it was the odd reality of being awake at 5 am, but you understood what he meant. And you found yourself longing for the same thing.

Two hours went by in a flash of serenity. The river floated you around on a gentle current, facilitating conversations you had never had with another: of dreams, of wishes, of childhood memories.

The peace of it all was interrupted by a familiar chaotic pair racing up to you in a row boat, their cheeks and noses sunburnt red, their smiles wide and relaxed.

“There you two are!” one of them called out – Soonyoung, the one who’d come down the slide screaming. “We were starting to worry Vernon drowned you in the river.”

You offered your co-conspirator a mischievous smile. “Do you have a habit of doing that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, in my free time I like to wake up at 5 am and drown pretty girls in the most popular river in the county.”

“He jokes but I wouldn’t put it past him,” the first stranger whispered to you loudly before squealing out a laugh when Vernon splashed him.

“Are you guys planning on floating here the whole day?” the other stranger – Jihoon, you vaguely remembered – wondered, lifting a hand to his forehead to shield his eyes from the sun. He offered you a friendly smile. “He hasn’t bored you yet?”

“I’m not that boring–”

“Shush, the adults are speaking,” Soonyoung told him and got splashed once more.

“He’s just showing me around the park,” you told them while trying not to laugh as Soonyoung splashed Vernon back with a bit more force than necessary.

“And he chose the freaking sail boat?!” Soonyoung paused, scandalised. “Have you even been on the slides yet?” You shook your head and he gasped. “The lazy river?” You repeated your action and he splashed Vernon once more. “You’re a horrible guide! And an even worse boyfriend!”

“We’re not actually—”

“Who goes on the water slides at 5 am?” Vernon laughed.

“That’s the best time!”

You shared a look with Jihoon. The man had curled into a comfortable lazy ball at the bottom of the boat, covered in a hoodie two sizes too big for him. An amused smile on his lips, he shook his head towards the other two and you knew you’d get along great.

“That’s it,” Soonyoung decided and climbed onto the sail boat to adjust its course. “We’re showing you what real fun looks like.”

“Soonyoung, we have work in three hours,” Jihoon reminded him gently but made no real movement to stop him. “We should be resting and eating breakfast.”

The other man made eye contact with you, widened his eyes and mimicked unscrewing something from his head before turning back to his friend and declaring, “Having fun is resting.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as a warm body gently pressed against your shoulder. Vernon leaned over to whisper into your ear, “He keeps saying he’s an introvert but nobody really believes him.”

“I wonder why,” you whispered back. He huffed out a laugh.

“What are you laughing at?” Soonyoung demanded and practically pulled him to his feet. “Come on, we’re going back to the mainland to show your girlfriend how to have fun.”

“Not his girlfriend—” you started once again but Vernon beat you to the punch, “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”

You prayed he hadn’t heard the choked whine of surprise you nearly let escape.

Though all three men had vowed they’d go to work at 10, had reminded each other to do exactly that, and had never once failed to check their watches, it quickly became apparent none of them actually had any intentions to get any work done. What you had expected to be a maximum of two hours of water park rides had quickly turned into five hours of water park shenanigans, and you were beyond the point of exhaustion.

“So, that was,” you struggled to find the words to say before settling on, “eventful.”

After hours of fun, the bar presented a delightful escape from the chaos. And you were starting to understand why the management wanted Soonyoung and Jihoon separated at all costs.

Vernon snorted and adjusted his cap – or possibly Jihoon’s cap; they’d switched it enough times that it was hard to tell. “That’s one word for it, sure.”

“Is it even legal to go down the water slide so many times?”

“You only went down four times.”

You sighed and relaxed into your beach chair. “Really? It felt like at least eight.”

“At least we know you won’t have a future in accounting,” he teased and you couldn’t help but laugh.

It was nice. Peaceful. You could get used to this, you thought.

The park wasn’t quite as busy as it would be at the weekend but there was still a fair amount of people. They passed by, engrossed in their own dramas and conversations, scolding their children and talking back to their mothers, laughing at the dumbest of jokes without a care in the world. Happy. And so were you.

“Should we order something?” you suggested after a long pause of serenity.

Vernon, having spent the past five minutes basking in the sun like a kitten who’d finally discovered the joys of sunny summer days, peeked one eye open to look at you. The corner of his lips lifted into a picture-perfect smirk. “Willing to take your chances?”

“Who knows?” You couldn’t help but laugh a little as you got up to head to the bar, hanging back just enough for him to catch up. “Maybe he’ll actually get it right this time.”

He glanced towards the bar and shook his head. “Nope, not Chan.”

“You say it with such certainty.”

“He’s made it his mission to get on the Wall of Shame this summer,” he informed you as if that meant anything to you. You only continued to stare at him, full of curiosity and confusion. “It’s pretty hard to get fired here but at the end of each month, the management awards Employee of the Month to someone who did a good job and adds anyone who’s been complained about to the Wall of Shame.”

“And he wants to be on that wall?”

“He’s been working towards it all month.”

That explained a lot. You sighed in pre-emptive defeat and sat down at the bar. But before you could raise your hand to wave the bartender over, Vernon jumped over the counter. You bit back a laugh.

“What are you doing?”

“You said he never gets your drinks right,” he shrugged and reached for a glass like it was second nature, “so I’m gonna make sure someone does.” 

Haphazardly, he straightened his shirt and fixed his hair before flashing you his most charming smile – one you couldn’t help but mirror. “What can I get for the lady?”

Lifting your hand and tapping your bottom lip with your finger, you contemplated for just a minute. “You know, a milkshake sounds lovely right about now.”

“One milkshake coming right up,” he replied with a wink before getting to work.

You shared a look with the bartender – Chan, you reminded yourself – and exchanged an amused look. With no customers to entertain, he came closer and leaned his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “My eyes must be deceiving me.”

“They must,” Vernon agreed in the most deadpan tone you had heard all day.

“You’re behind my bar.”

“You’ve been getting her drinks wrong all week.”

“You know I have a mission.”

He nodded. “Yeah, well, she’s spying for Riptide Reef and might write a whole page about your poor customer service in her report.”

You couldn’t help but groan and hide your face in your hands. “Vernon, you can’t go around telling people I’m a corporate spy.”

Both of Chan’s eyebrows rose in interest. “A spy, eh?”

“If you tell anybody, I’ll tell Seungcheol you’re mixing orders up on purpose.”

It’s okay to admit that Vernon’s quick defence made your heart melt just a little bit. Then again, you supposed everything he did had that effect on you now. You really were falling fast and deep.

“Fine,” Chan declared and he sounded just a little more on edge than before, voice strangely higher on the last syllable. “Help me at the bar today and I won’t ask any questions.”

Finger hovering above the button of the blender, Vernon glanced at you for just a moment too long. Then he nodded. “Deal.”

“That was a joke—” the other man began but was promptly interrupted by the struggling screeches and roaring of a blender that had worked two-hundred more shifts than it should have. He sighed in defeat and leaned closer to you over the counter. “So, tell me about this corporate spy thing: does it pay well?”

“Hey!” Vernon interrupted just as you opened your mouth to answer. You couldn’t help but grin when he pointed an accusatory fork in Chan’s direction and emphasised, “No questions.”

Chan sighed. “You’re really no fun.”

“It doesn’t pay well at all,” you told him in a loud whisper when Vernon’s attention drifted to a customer – one your new companion was pointedly ignoring – waving him down. “I should’ve asked for a pay raise before taking the job.”

He cursed under his breath. “I knew there was a catch somewhere.”

“It’s nice that they’re paying for my stay here though. All of this,” you made a vague gesture towards the park, “for free.”

Your new friend pursed his lips in thought, gaze caught on someone behind you. “That does sound kind of nice, honestly. I’ve been meaning to explore the park – getting paid for it would be pretty neat.”

You blinked at him. “Vernon said staff can just wander around here before opening hours.”

His brows furrowed into a deep-set frown. “We can?”

Your trusty guide returned to you just in time to answer for you. “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

If a dictionary editor ever needed a picture definition for ‘betrayed’, you would be sure to submit this exact moment for consideration. While his frown deepened more than you ever thought possible, Chan’s jaw dropped so low you feared a stray bee might fly into his throat.

He then slammed a fist against the counter. “I knew they were keeping something from me!”

Vernon placed your milkshake in front of you with a gentle laugh and a warm touch of his hand against yours. You laughed along and tried to ignore the electricity running deep under your skin.

‘What the hell is in the water at this place? Why do I want to hold and kiss a man I’ve known for four days?’

The glittery line stared right back at you from the notebook. It was a forbidden confession in ink, one you still couldn’t believe you had made.

You had heard of summer flings, of rapid-fire romances so hot and fast and passionate they could never be forgotten. You had thought them a myth. Something romance authors came up with to sell more books with smaller page counts. But now you were forced to confront your reality – one that the day’s activities had not helped in the least –: you were really falling for a man you had known for less days than a child could count.

‘You have to leave in a few days’ you wrote under the line and it was a reminder. There was no point in getting attached. It would hurt less to face the odds and limit your interactions.

But like a moth to a flame, you were stuck on him and found yourself seeking him out again and again the whole day. You saw him in every light blue staff shirt. You heard him in every laugh. You felt him in every warm ray of the sun.

And when he snuck away from his tasks to tell you random facts about the park, contemplate about life, or share town gossip he’d heard while keeping watch at the wave pool, you felt like you could breathe again.

You found him again at the wave pool just an hour before his shift would end. He waved you over with a twinkle in his honey-glazed eyes before locating the most comfortable vacant beach chair. He led you to it without any questions asked, before you could even get a word out.

“You know,” he started, sneaking glances at your sunbathing body between routine scans of the wave pool’s ever-changing population, “there’s a party here Sunday night. You should come.”

“What kind of a party?” you wondered and lathered sun lotion onto your legs, unaware it was the most distracting sight this poor man had ever witnessed. “It better not be formal because I really did not pack any clothes for that occasion.”

A minute passed in silence. You almost forgot he was there – almost, but not really. You were cursed to always be aware of his presence these days.

Finally, he cleared his throat and turned to monitor the pool again. “It’s not. There’s a live band, a free bar. Honestly,” he turned back to you before looking away again as if he hadn’t meant to do that, “I wouldn’t be surprised if someone tried to show up naked.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Will you be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

It was hard to tell where the sudden confidence had come from – maybe the pink glitter pen was magical and had blessed your intentions (a girl could dream) –, you glanced up and smiled at him. “Then neither would I.”

“Cool,” he breathed out as if he could no longer find his voice.‘Maybe this is what it means to be happy’ you wrote in your notebook in pretty cursive letters and smiled to yourself when you caught him looking at you again.

Reality struck again just a few hours later, after he’d walked you back to your room at the end of his shift, after he made the fatal mistake of swiftly kissing your cheek goodbye. A phone call was all it took – that’s how fragile your newfound happiness really was.

“I hope your report’s coming along well,” your manager spoke and he sounded expectant. It had the familiar deceitful undertone of ‘I expect great things from you, kid’ you’d heard your teachers use one too many times in high school.

You cleared your throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Yeah? Lots of evidence and notes, I hope?” Something about the tone of his voice made you hate it even more than usual.

“Plenty,” you told him and it wasn’t a complete lie but it wasn’t exactly the truth either. Your notebook, open with barely three pages of writing in it, mocked you on the windowsill.

He hummed in approval and you felt sick all of a sudden. Without even saying anything disapproving, your supervisor was forcing you to realise how much you’d been slacking – too busy having fun and flirting to even do your own little job. You felt small, insignificant, unable to fulfil the tasks you were given.

“Can’t wait to read your report on Monday, Olivia. We’re counting on you for the future of the park.”

Not my name, you wanted to tell him but gritted your teeth and only made a noise of agreement. He didn’t even bother to say ‘goodbye’ before abruptly ending the call, leaving you to inevitably spiral under the pressure.

‘You need to focus on your job’ you added to the notes in crooked, unsteady handwriting. You underlined it twice.

The crowded Saturday made it easier to avoid him. The realisation filled you with both guilt and relief. Instead of resorting to your old tactics of hiding in bushes, you could simply adjust your sun hat and blend into the crowd.

But somehow he still seemed to find you, greeting you with a friendly smile each and every time.

You tried hiding behind the snack bar menu. It took him all of five minutes to find you anyway. He bought two chocolate bars and handed one to you as if it was a peace offering – like he knew what you were trying to do. You thanked him with a meek smile and entertained his chats with short replies.

You spent at least two hours floating around in the lazy river, hopeful that he wouldn’t think to search for you there, and if he did, he’d surely be forced to wait for your return to dry land before he could try to talk to you again. The only entertainment you had was taking note of the ride mechanics, listening to snippets of gossip, and confirming the rumours of a Mingyu fan club (the rumours were true and you came out of the river a changed woman with a new appreciation for biceps) but somehow that was enough to distract you.

Unfortunately, it seemed that even that obstacle didn’t deter Vernon all that much as he practically jogged along the riverside, keeping time with your float, to tell you that Chan had finally earned his place on the Wall of Shame and that he couldn’t wait to spend all Sunday night dancing with you.

Your self-control was on the verge of breaking, being chipped away bit by bit. And then it cracked.

Finally, when he appeared again just as you got out of the lazy river. Hands in his pockets, that beautiful smile on his face, he effortlessly matched your pace on the way to the bar, completely unaware of your inner turmoil.

“You know, Chan’s not working the party,” he told you with a gentle nudge. “We might actually have a shot at getting our right orders.”

“Yeah?” you forced out and tried to pretend you were fine even as your heart threatened to break alongside your self-control.

You needed to focus on your job, you reminded yourself. You had no time to party or flirt. Riptide Reef was counting on your report to get better and stay afloat. You had notes to organise, a report to write, information to gather.

Vernon didn’t seem to mind your curt tone. “Jihoon and Soonyoung will be DJing though. That’s, like, a fifty-fifty shot of a decent soundtrack. But I guess maybe if Soonyoung gets drunk enough, he’ll forget and then—”

“I can’t come to the party with you, Vernon,” you finally burst out and told him. It sounded a little louder, much meaner than you had intended it to. But there was no taking it back now. You had to put a stop to this.

He only blinked. “You can’t? Why not?”

“Because I’m not here to have fun,” you said, exasperated and tired and overwhelmed, your supervisor’s voice still painfully loud in your ear. “I’m here to do a job. I need to do this job. I need this job.”

His silence somehow hurt. Even if you were the cause of it. Finally, he asked, “So what does that mean?”

“It means that—” You didn’t know. No. That’s a lie. You knew exactly what it meant and you knew that if you said those words now, it would be the end. You didn’t want it to end, not really. But what choice did you have? You took a deep breath. “Whatever it is between us is over. We can’t keep doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked, his voice mixed with a breathless laugh even as his brows furrowed. “Having fun? Connecting?”

You gestured vaguely. “This.”

“No, call it what it is.”

“Flirting.”

There it was. The admission. The truth.

“Vernon, I like you, but I need to focus on my job. My boss expects a report in less than three days and I have close to nothing. I can’t afford distractions.”

He stepped back. You tried to tell yourself there hadn’t been a flash of hurt in his eyes. “So you’re saying I’m a distraction.”

“Exactly.”

You couldn’t bear to say anything more. Turning on your heel, you left back into the safety of your hotel room, making sure to lock the door in case he decided to follow you in a pursuit of a proper explanation.

Sunday was spent in misery. Getting rid of a distraction, it seemed, had only made way for a worse and bigger distraction – sadness. It was bothersome and overwhelming. It came with silent tears and nightmares. It paralysed you.

Instead of writing a report like you had vowed to do, you lied in bed and ordered copious amounts of room service in hopes of eating the guilt away.

Morning became noon. Noon became afternoon. Afternoon became evening. You were still as miserable as before, replaying the conversation in your head like the most awful record you had ever bought but could never quite get rid of.

Whatever happiness was, you were sure you had found its true opposite now.

You contemplated getting out of bed and seeking him out to apologise. Maybe you’d write him a letter in pink glitter pen and hand it over when he inevitably refused to talk to you. Maybe you’d just break down crying in front of the wave pool and he’d take pity on you. Whatever the case, you were slowly realising you wouldn’t be able to find peace until you made this right.

The party, you suddenly realised. You’d find him there, surely. And even if not, you could simply drown your worries in free alcohol. Nothing to lose, plenty to gain.

Filled with a newfound sense of determination, you washed off the sadness and lunch crumbs. Your travel wardrobe wasn’t particularly varied but you found something decent – possibly even pretty – to wear. You grabbed your phone and your room key, put on your shoes and opened the door to leave–

It took every bit of self-control to not start crying.

Standing right outside your door, Vernon looked so different in a white t-shirt instead of his usual light blue. A small bouquet of daisies in his hand, he offered you a small smile.

He pointed at the door. “I was just about to knock.”

“Vernon, you—”

“I know you said I’m a distraction but,” he took a deep wavering breath and held the flowers out for you to take, “I was hoping I’m a good enough distraction that you might not give up on this – on us – just yet.”

“Why are you so nice to me?” you whispered before you could stop yourself. The flowers looked even prettier up close – just as he did – and you couldn’t resist the urge to hold them closer to your chest. “You shouldn’t be nice to me, not when I treated you like that. All you’ve done is be so sweet and kind and I treated you so horribly—”

A soft noise of protest interrupted you. “You’re just under a lot of pressure—”

“Let me apologise,” you pleaded, your grip on the flowers tightening. “I hurt you.”

He didn’t argue with that. “You did. And I did feel hurt at first. But then I thought about it a bit and I realised you probably didn’t mean it, not in that way anyway.”

“You’ve known me for a week, Vernon,” you reminded. “Why are you making excuses for me? You can’t possibly know what I meant.”

“I may not know all that much about you but I know what you’re like as a person,” he told you and shrugged. “I know that you don’t like your job but your attached to Riptide Reef. I know you’re cautious. I know you’re too nice to call the bartender out for getting your drink completely wrong.” He stepped closer. One step. Two. You could practically feel his body heat. “If that’s what you’re like on the surface level, then I find it hard to believe you meant to hurt me. And I’d be the luckiest guy to get to know you more.”

Now you really couldn’t stop yourself from crying. The tears slipped down your cheeks, one at a time, but you smiled at him.

How lucky you’d been to run into this man on your first day in the park! How luck you’d been he’d rushed to save you from the wave pool when you fell! Screw Riptide Reef, you thought: you’d slack off on your job and bruise your knees and hide behind bushes a thousand more times if it meant you got to meet Vernon Chwe all over again once more.

His eyes looked equally watery. You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Are you about to start crying too?”

He shook his head immediately and scrunched up his nose. “No, I’m just allergic to flowers.”

You laughed louder. He sneezed. Your laughter turned into a gasp and a hurry to put the flowers away. “Oh, you weren’t kidding! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?”

It was his turn to be amused now. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I’ll worry about it!” you scolded him and gently hit his arm before frantically practically dragging him away from your hotel room, as far from the flowers – or anything floral – as possible, barely remembering to even lock the door behind you as he laughed at your sudden panic. “You’re so dumb! Why would you get me flowers if you’re allergic?!”

“Because I like you,” he told you like it was the answer to the most simple equation. Like it should’ve been obvious.

You paused. “What? You do?”

His shoulder nudged against yours. “I do. And you like me too.”

“How would you know that?”

“You told me so. When you yelled at me and called me a distraction.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “But how do you know that I meant it back then?”

“I just do.”

You still don’t know what came over you. Overwhelming adoration? An intense need to show affection? Plain old insanity? You kissed him, right there, in front of the elevator door, long and deep and hard like you had known him for an eternity. Like you couldn’t wait to know him for an eternity more.

It took the last shreds of your self-control to pull back and open your eyes again. His were still closed as if he’d waited all his life for this and didn’t want to let go of this moment. You pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose and his face scrunched up in amusement before his eyes finally opened and met yours.

He licked his lips before smiling. “So am I a good enough distraction?”

“Probably a little too good,” you replied and meant it. “I need to finish that report by Tuesday and I’ve written a grand total of nothing, so I hope you’re good to like a corporate spy so bad she lost her job.”

“Well,” he started a little hesitantly, “I could probably get you a job here, if you wanted.”

“That’s sweet and all but—”

“I’m serious.” Vernon offered a sheepish shrug. “The owner owes me a favour or two.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

He chuckled. “If you lose your job, it’s kind of my fault, so if you really think about it, I kind of owe you this one. Besides I happen to know we have a vacancy you’re kind of uniquely suited for. One way better than working the slides.”

Confusion took hold. “Do you guys need a corporate spy or something? Because I’m pretty sure we’ve established I’m not a good one.”

“You’ve got potential,” he joked and winked before practically dragging you towards the elevator. “Come on, we’ve got a party to get to.”

“But you didn’t even tell me what the—”

He let out a soft whine of protest, gently squeezed your face between his palms and pressed a kiss to your lips to silence you. “Let’s not talk about work. There’s a pretty girl I’ve been wanting to dance with all week.”

There had been a moment when you’d wondered if you would grow to regret it – this hot and fast summertime romance (a second part of you wondered if it even counted as that when you’d just barely confessed; a third part hoped it would become something much more). But then he pulled back for a breath, looked at you with those brown eyes like he truly understood you. And he kissed you once more for good measure.

No, you thought, you wouldn’t regret it at all.

[boxturret]

Mata Nui, The Great Spirit

Hello, how do you feel about painting legoes? I think its fun.

Read on to see the terrible, unethical building process.

Many crimes were committed and I will likely be put to death soon.

Recently I completed quite a large project, painting this huge model kit of the Great Spirit Mata Nui. The kit in question is GiiKei's really impressive build, the instructions of which you can purchase here:

I was quite happy to see they cited my 3d model as reference, along with the original ideas submission. Fun fact: I really liked that ideas submission and made an account just to support it, but something about the proportions never sat right with me, and it was one of the things that motivated me to make that 3d model! So its fun to see it get used in the creation of another model :) And now here I am building it. Full circle.

Now, full disclosure, this is made from third party parts, I did test it on bricklink and it would have easily doubled the price, even before shipping from about half a dozen international stores. I kinda just bought this on impulse, it was pretty cheap and on sale and it was a gamble it would come at all really. But a week ago a nondescript bag came and inside it were sixteen hundred parts of honestly pretty good quality.

I think a couple parts used weren't in their parts catalogue so they had to be 3d printed, but even these were pretty acceptable. Actually in a way some parts were better, because this flame piece was pure red, instead of a mix of red and yellow as all branded parts are.

Some bits had a bit of a tight fit, and I drilled out the middle of the pistons, but I would have done that anyway to accommodate the painting. All in all, really good, was only missing one non essential part.

You can debate the ethics of stuff like this, but either I bought the instructions and paid a company in china X for the parts or I bought the instructions and paid a bunch of unrelated people X*2 for the parts, either way the creator gets the same amount. And I can say I wasn't going to build this off bricklinking parts. For various reasons I'm kinda done with bricklink*.

So after quite a few hour's work I had this lovely fellow. I must say, the design is quite good, its well articulated and has a lot of good build techniques. The head is both the strongest and the weakest part really.

I love the eye assembly, its built to allow for lighting, but it also cleverly includes natural light piping, and the kit comes with 4 sets of eyes, trans red and green for lighting and solid green and pink for display. Even has a little wrench to help swap out the parts.

On top of all of this the mouth is even articulated! So much shoved in such a small package. Unfortunately it does come at a cost, as its incredibly unstable. its a lot of 1 stud wide assemblies held together at odd distances with bars. I think the end result looks good, but its so easy for it to fall apart or get misaligned

Which is why, the instant I finished building this I decided to take it apart again and go at it with a tube of glue.

I glued large parts of this model together. I would happily do it again.

I'm not even going to hide behind any sort of "oh it wasn't real legoes so its fine" excuse, I would have 100% done this with "real" parts. Same with the painting really, I'm sick and tired of hiding behind the excuse that its acrylic so it can wash off, yes, technically, but it would take so much effort and the paints would probably stain some of the parts anyway. If something can benefit from paint or glue I'm not going to hold off just because the parts have a certain company's name on them. They're not sacred.

I can just use mineral spirits to undo everything anyway.

From the moment I saw the original ideas submission I knew: I wanted to paint it.

The GSR is a massive robot that's lain on the bottom of the ocean for millennia, and it reflects that with how dirty and rusty it is, its such an important aspect for me. And personally I quite like painting rust. It seems to be something I end up doing quite a lot.

So basically over the next couple of days I glued everything I felt needed glue, separated the model out in to several chunks, and then began painting.

First I primed it.

Then I did a black wash.

Then I started painting on the rust!

And then I realised I'd made a terrible mistake and redid everything.... Basically I kinda overestimated how much the black wash would fill in the nooks and crannies of the parts, so starting with a light primer base coat meant I was spending an inordinate amount of time trying to fill in all those little gaps and it was taking forever. So I made the correct decision of giving everything a coat of black paint first, and THEN moving on to the rust.

And after that everything went super smooth. Its really important to be open to admitting you made a mistake, and even if it will take more time its for the best to just start over.

For the bits of silver I used a similar technique to how I applied extra streaks of rust to my infected masks. It was a very enjoyable process.

After a quick coat of varnish and a day left to sit everything could go back together!

This guy is massive, around 50cm tall.

The back of the legs is by far the most interesting part of the model.

I especially like these movable pistons.

I did attempt to protect the light piping, and was somewhat successful.

The model is really poseable while at the same time feeling quite stable. Every joint in the legs is doubled. One thing I think is lacking is the ability for it to splay the arms completely out. But I can forgive it since, as I learned when rigging the 3d model, the arm pistons...don't really allow it. And the fact that this model actually has working arm pistons is much more of a positive in my mind.

In any case, you can just remove the pin holding the arms in and do it manually.

You may have noticed my old Mata Nui Island 3d print along with all the parts earlier. Well by some weird coincidence, they kinda match up proportion wise, ie the mouth and eye are roughly at the right places to be under the volcano and bay, respectively.

So that was a happy accident, and now I have a good way of showing how big the GSR is compared to the island.

Its big. And this is the logical size, not the insane 40000000000000 foot number thrown about by some. I have a series of posts about the various sizes of things because I find it interesting.

So in summation, I really couldn't be happier with this. The model design was great, I had a fun time painting it, and now I have a GSR model the size of a small child to display somewhere in my room. I've long been thinking of 3d printing my model, but this has really reduced my need for that. Also with recent duck related developments I've been made aware of how woefully inaccurate my model really is, and have to redo it at some point.

I have reached the maximum number of images per post. I might make a gallery post later. Good night. Have a nice weekend.

*come to bricklink and pay hundreds of dollars for the privilege of getting a smashed mask in the mail. And don't you dare expect a full refund. Not a single part in this kit was damaged and it came in a bag! You can see this guy lying in the background of some shots.

[turbocao]

i ended up getting THE RED ONE!!!!!!!

Oh man I just found out what the 2025 limited edition travelers notebook looks like and now idk what to do

I was planning to get the cool toned browny brown notebook once im done with my current journal (which i predict will happen in 4 to 6 months), so i still have time to think.

The cool brown looks serious, professional and timeless. I'm also quite a serious person, and cool toned colors suit me.

But I also like red haha. (My first bullet journal was a black moleskine, my second was a bright red one) And it's not like the reddish travelers doesn't look nice, professional and timeless too. It's just a matter of personal taste, kinda like how i just dont like the camel brown travelers as much (not pictured here)

The reddish one is bright red on the inside, which, to be fair, i dont know if i like.

I was firmly set on getting the cool brown one until I saw the limited edition one.

But i don't know if I like the reddish color or if I'm being influenced by the fact that it's a limited edition!!

And the theme is love and so and so, which also warps my perception that the main difference is actuallly just the color.

Hmmmmmm what to do...

i dont wanna rely on strangers opinions but just in case anyone reading this wants to put their two cents in, here you go hehe:

[mental-ch-illness]

pro tip for recovering addicts

TW: Addiction, Alcohol dependency

as someone currently working through a moderate addiction to alcohol, there is something that actually really has helped me recently: replacement and going nuclear.

i would like to say that this method is not fool proof, and it will not work for people who have not completely accepted their addiction or have severe addiction. also, i am only dealing with alcohol dependency, so this may not work for others. even if you are struggling with alcohol, this might not work for you, but here's something that has helped me.

going nuclear, so don't even bother with trying to convince yourself it's going to be just one sip or one night. if you didn't trust yourself earlier that day, you probably shouldn't trust yourself now. so i've been doing the Most™ and simply applying brute force against myself. here's what i've been doing.

bought myself a timer lock. i put my alcohol in a cabinet and then use the lock on the cabinet. that way i have to wait to get to it. i can have a drink and then put it back and reset the lock. this prevents me from going back for more before the effects actually kick in. usually i make it a few hours. this method is great if you have a problems with delayed gratification because you can watch the numbers go down. also, you can set it to a longer periods of time to prevent day drinking. it's pretty easy, so you can set it up during those periods of clarity and yet it still holds up once the urges start up again.

i now leave my driver's license in the lock box of my car whenever i go to the store. this helps as i typically go to the store telling myself i won't buy alcohol. then when i'm actually passing by that aisle i find myself picking up some bottles and convincing myself it will be fine. it's not fine. just like above, take advantage of those moments of clarity and lock up your ID.

i've been deliberately diluting my alcohol by making premade mixed drinks. a go too of mine is measuring out three parts fruit juice and one part vodka (so it should be... like... 8% ABV, but don't quote me on that). i typically just mix it into an already emptied bottle of fruit juice. that way, instead of just doing shots of straight vodka, i am forced to actually drink a whole cocktail. there's only so much my stomach can hold, so it forces me to slow down.

i started taking medication to help curb addiction urges. currently, i am on a daily dose of naltrexone (as a pill) to help curb the urge to drink. it's not a cure all, but it does provide a sort of speed bump. not just with alcohol. i've sometimes found myself questioning impulse purchases and the like much more often. there are other medications that can help, so it might help to talk to your doctor.

here's another thing that isn't really 'nuclear', but has helped: i got a snow cone machine... just a tiny one i found on clearance. whenever i got the urge to drink, i'd make a snow cone. i didn't think it would work as well as it has, but i think the dopamine hit from that does help to curb things.

not everyone can quit cold turkey, but everyone should do their best to outsmart their addiction when they can. you'll fuck up, but that doesn't mean that you are a fuck up. it's gonna be okay. maybe not today, or tomorrow, or the next day, but it will be one day.

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | Toji's worldview is torn to tatters after what started as a joke quickly earns him a lesson in love.

Content | mdni 18+, Toji x Shiu, anal sex, spanking, swearing, angst if you squint, Toji in tights!!!

Word Count | ~1.2k

A/N | This fic was heavily inspired by this art by @moonlessoul as well as a tojixshiu tights illustration on the moonlessoul patreon.

Being a patron of Keita's has been an absolute delight and is worth every penny. Please consider supporting this fantastic artist!

It started as a joke. Or maybe it didn't. For Toji, the lines between what was serious and what wasn't were becoming increasingly less defined these days, including this thing he had with Shiu.

What was it, exactly? He wasn't sure. He was never too concerned with labels, anyway. He lived for fun and he lived for pleasure. He lived for the moment. Tomorrow be damned.

It's probably why he had no money. No family. No substance. He was fleeting. Impulsive. Quick to make light of whatever he didn't fully understand. This was just another one of those things.

So when he saw the sheer material, cobwebby lace in lustrous black, his first reaction was to laugh. To mock the image of himself splayed out in front of a flustered Shiu. His masculine form and rigid muscles in humerous contrast to the delicate lingerie. His second measure was to buy it. Unsure, himself, as to what compelled him, but whatever the reason, the end result was still the same.

So, what started as a joke, or maybe something more sincere, came to a head later that day as he lay there clad in his latest impulse. Sheeny nylons stretched enticingly over his calves and thighs. Heavy balls, shaved playboy smooth, held askew where the fine mesh pressed them to the side. Uncut cock straining against the see-through fabric.

On his chest he wore a silky bra, trimmed in delicate lace. Spaghetti straps doing little to hold the slippery material in place. One dainty string slinking seductively off his chiseled shoulder.

What a laugh it will be, when Shiu returns, to find him there manspread in such a ridiculous getup. The look on his face will be reason enough to justify his nonsensical purchase.

But as Shiu walked through the door, weary eyes adjusting to the sight before him, it wasn't a laugh that escaped his tightening chest, but a groan, the likes of which Toji had never heard, spill from the ever-collected former detective.

"See something you like?" Toji asked, still half-teasing, not yet understanding the devastation he'd wrought.

A tangible stillness hung in the air between them. A tension so thick you could slice it with a knife. Shiu stood in the doorway, slack-jawed and swaying slightly. Toji raised a cautious brow, perplexed by the other man's strange behavior.

Then, all at once, Shiu's briefcase and suit jacket fell to the floor with a careless thud as he stumbled toward Toji on trembling legs. Leather shoes and dark green tie trailing behind him as he stepped from them on his way across the room, kicking the door shut behind him as he went.

Where he'd usually struggle to lift the bigger man, he made light work of scooping Toji in his arms, thick legs wrapped around Shiu's waist as he carried Toji to the bedroom, laying him fervidly on cotton sheets.

"Woah, Shiu, I-"

"Shh," Shiu hushed him, stripping away his collared shirt and peeling off his slacks.

Shiu stood naked. Feral. Chest heaving with each searing breath. He was heat and sex incarnate. His every nerve crackled with electric desire.

Only now did Toji begin to realize the consequences of his actions. He'd awakened something in Shiu. Unearthed some carnal instinct lying dormant all this time. Both men watched with baited breath as a pearlescent bead of salty precum pushed its way through the nylon tights, balanced, trembling, atop Toji's swollen tip. Suddenly, the tear spilled over, tracing the length of Toji's cock. A silent call to action for the fiercely pent-up Shiu.

RRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPPP

It was all Toji could do just to breathe as Shiu pounded into him at a relentless pace. He'd torn away the airy fabric like a rabid dog, biting away just enough to free his cock and the gap between his trembling thighs.

Toji's legs were on Shiu's shoulders, framing his face as pretty as a picture- cheeks tinged red with burning heat, sweat glistening like jewels on his fevered brow. They locked eyes, Toji giving off a sheepish grin, almost shy under the gaze of Shiu's primal awakening. Shiu curled his lip in a bestial snarl, giving off a sound somewhere between a sensual purr and a deadly growl.

The walls reverberated with their indecent symphony. An inescapably pornographic overture of panting breaths, pounding flesh, and the continued tattering of those irreverent tights. Shiu leaned forward, striking deeper as he did, swallowing Toji's insatiable moans, leaving bruises on his swollen lips. Toji folded like origami. Ankles to ears in a full-blown mating press. Shiu's hungry eyes boring holes in his own as they rocked in constant rythm.

At long last, Shiu pulled away, arching his back as the length of his cock bullied up against Toji's prostate. With a feral gleam in his narrowed eyes, he bit along Toji's calves, tearing the nylons between his teeth. He gnawed on his ankles and nipped at his toes, groaning shamelessly each time the fabric gave way.

Toji's stomach was covered in precum. His heavy cock bouncing with aching desire. And each time he was met with Shiu's heavy-lidded gaze, his lovestruck body clenched with wanton need to be filled. Shiu leaned forward once more, trapping Toji's throbbing cock beneath his weight, allowing the man's muscular legs to wrap around his narrow waist.

"What a clueless fucking brat you are," Shiu whispered, running his lips along the shell of Toji's ear. Toji clenched again, balls tightening with the movement. Shiu hissed at the feeling. Sucking his teeth and stilling his hips so as not to cum too soon. "Thought this would be funny, did ya? Thought this would be cute?" The palm of Shiu's hand met the curve of Toji's ass with a stinging clap. Toji gasped fully as another sharp thrust brought Shiu's hips flush with the back of Toji's thighs. Shiu leaned forward until he was nose to nose with the breathless man beneath him. Tenderly, he brushed Toji's bangs away from his sweaty brow where they clung. Shiu's face softened. "I know how you think," he said gently, before drawing his lips into another breathless sneer. "And you've got it all wrong," he snarled, landing a sharp flick to Toji's forehead on the last word.

"You ain't...just...some...joke..." Shiu pounded into him, driving the message home between Toji's gasping breaths. Hot tears crested his lashes and streaked from his eyes, disappearing as they met his sweat-soaked hairline. With a hand on the matress, and the other firmly gripping Toji's quivering jaw, Shiu leaned in once more, dutifully licking away the salty rivulets. The sensual gesture sent Toji reeling, swollen cock throbbing with a painful need unload.

Shiu's peak was coming hard and fast, heat creeping up his neck and flushing his handsome features. But he wasn't ready. Not yet. With a forceful grip, he angled Toji's face so that their eyes were forced to meet. Blown out pupils searching each other with feverish intensity.

"This is serious...to me," Shiu breathed, voice barely above a whisper. "It always has been." As his lips met Toji's the two men let out a soul-shattering groan, harmonized as they came as one. Sticky heat filled the space where their navels met, while even more came spilling from Toji's entrance where Shiu was just pulling away. Latent twitches from Shiu sent spurts of creamy white over Toji's now sensitive skin.

Shiu collapsed next to his worn-out lover, pulling him in and holding him close to the steady thrum of his pounding heart, and at last Toji understood. This was never so unserious. This was the real thing.

This was love.

[tojisth3rdwife]

Contrary to popular belief, Toji is breaded tf up.

Not on a Satoru Gojo scale, but ya boy has a substantial savings. Gambling issue aside, hes actually just cheap as hell.

Coming up rough and always finding himself in situations where he has to get dirty, Toji finds it pointless to wear his money. He has a few watches he purchased on impulse and some expensive shoes (i think he’d be a a bit of a sneaker head in another life). He splurged one year on a gaming PC for Megumi’s birthday and he drives a muscle car.

Not to mention the fact that this man probably consumes damn near 3000 calories of a food a day, with 200 grams of protein being the most expensive feat. He’s buying fresh meat. Steaks. The big ass kind. Weekly. Plus fresh produce and shit…

And he’s got a son that probably eats just as much as he does.

So just by looking at him, in his beat up trainers, sweat pants and compression shirt most days, no one would ever know how much money Toji really has…

Do with that what you will…

[rottenpumpkin13]

What about Turks spending habits? Tseng did mention that they get paid better then SOLDIREs, at least second class SOLDIERs.

Reno: Spends gil as fast as he gets it. Big on gambling, drinks, and "investments" that are really just bets. The kind of guy who'd buy a motorcycle on impulse, crash it the same night, and shrug it off because "I'll just win it back in poker" Somehow never actually broke. Ever. This implies he has more than one income stream. Doesn't disclose what it is. Tseng knows but refuses to ask, because if he starts pulling that thread, he's going to regret it.

Rude: Surprisingly frugal, but splurges on things he enjoys. Always has savings, always tips generously, and somehow never spends a single gil on unnecessary things. The only "splurge" he allows himself is high-quality sunglasses, clothes, memberships and equipment he likes. And even then, he only replaces them when absolutely necessary. Reno suspects he's secretly rich.

Tseng: Extremely responsible with his gil. Has a meticulous budget, invests wisely, and probably has multiple savings accounts. However, he will drop a small fortune on fine tea and the occasional ridiculously expensive, custom-tailored suit. Doesn't consider it "frivolous" spending, it's an investment in his image.

Cissnei: The most balanced of the bunch. She saves well, treats herself occasionally, and never overspends. She has a soft spot for sentimental purchases, though—sees a cute plush, buys it, no hesitation. Also absolutely the type to put gil aside for birthdays, surprise gifts for the team, and lend gil to friends in need.

Elena: Tries to budget but has a weakness for trendy items and impulse buys. If there's a new skincare product, fancy stationery, or a limited-edition collectible, she needs it. Ends up living paycheck to paycheck but convinces herself it's "self-care."

Rufus: On another level entirely. He tells himself (Tseng) that he doesn't "spend money" so much as he "exerts power through financial transactions." Tseng is still trying to figure out how buying fun dog outfits for Darkstar, spending on dog yoga, toys, and other pet luxuries are a part of that.

[spleenthecat]

ok i have another ford headcanon. what? its nwhs birthday still? ohhh. yeaah. this is totally related to that. happy 10 years of ford or whatever. this is definitely for that and i planned this ford pines is a trinket guy. this man has 12 shelves full of just little things. figurines, stickers, posters, prints, pins, magnets, plushies. he has it all. tardis figurines. doctor who posters. star trek posters. mothman plushies. pine trees everywhere. even mcguckets inventions that hes gifted to him (THEYRE MARRIED) are put on display. he loves having stuff to look at. he loves collecting shit. every little gift hes ever received is lovingly placed on a shelf or wall. you cant see out of the back window of that mans car from the amount of stickers and decals (probably to the point where its technically illegal but that never stopped him). you cant trust that man unsupervised in a store because he WILL be making impulsive purchases (or just stealing them. you know his pockets are filled to the brim with random stuff everytime he leaves a place.) he loves it. he loves it so so so so so much. he probably has a fuck ton of piercings and accessories and jewelry too. he loves decorating himself. its so much fun for him are you kidding. stan wears flashy shit for the sake of showing wealth. ford does it for the love of the game.