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yoonia · 21 days ago

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🖋️ ⇝ hear me out! What if Prince Yoongi met Princess OC in a modern setting? (From the bedroom hymns) Would it still be magical? I think they'd still be soulmates 🥹

omg your mind!!!! I never thought about them meeting in a modern setting, but this was super interesting! I'm not sure what you envisioned when you sent me this, but...as always, I just let my mind go wild with this one and...

Well, this happened. Enjoy this moodboard and a little 'snippet' of our modern royal couple in their trip!

— title: Two Steps Behind (or Ahead?) — The Bedroom Hymns: alternate version | pairings: Yoongi x female reader| genre: Hidden Prince!Yoongi, Chaebol!reader, friends with benefits, smut, modern fantasy| word count: 2,190 words (I'm sorry???!!)

— summary | You never truly believed in soulmates. But when he keeps coming into your path, enticing you with his deep voice and alluring smile, you begin to wonder if fate really does have a play in your chance encounters.

— ratings & warnings | +18 / M for mature; allusions of one-night stands, hooking up, friends with benefits, sexual tension, including smut scenes (defined in a flashback scene): stripping, body worship, breast play, oral sex (female receiving), hotel hookups, penetrative sex (no protection defined), multiple orgasms, post-coital cuddling

— original: The Bedroom Hymns by @yoonia — fic drop date: Oct 27th, 2024 — song companion: dangerous game — written as part of my 2024 birthday bash event, 𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊

There is something about autumn rain which calms you.

The pitter-patter sound of the drizzling rain falling around you. The refreshing scent of wet ground and fresh grass. The gentle breeze flowing around you gives you the perfect excuse to pull out your fuzzy sweater for your outing today.

Sitting outside this quaint cafe you first found during your walk today, you get to enjoy everything; the lovely weather, the beautiful day, and a lot of interesting sights to see from this strange city.

Another day, another place to be.

Travelling hasn’t truly been your forte. Not until lately. Moving back with your absent father didn’t leave much to expect, and going from one place to another through his magic doors has been able to fill the void that seems to have been engraved within you since your mother’s passing.

Sighing with content, you look away and pick up your cup of cappuccino that has been sitting on the table before you. It’s still steaming hot, with the rich, deep aroma of espresso filling the air, and the subtle note of cinnamon that has been added in giving the extra hint of spice and sweetness that nearly completes your soul as you take careful sips of your drink.

While you are savouring your coffee, a shadow appears right by your table. It doesn’t take much for you to recognise him before he even speaks.

“Is this seat taken?”

You smile into your coffee, loving how the timbre of his voice is raising some warm flutters in your chest. You take your time before lifting your gaze to him, not giving him any attention until your coffee is settled back on the table.

“Min Yoongi,” you greet him with a smile. “Join me?”

Chuckling softly, he takes the empty chair across from you to keep you company. Sitting back, you cross your right leg on top of your left, watching him as he orders his coffee—a cup of espresso, as always—and taking the delightful sight of him in.

Just like you, he is dressed for warmth. Wearing a muted beige sweater over his dark jeans, he covers it with a leather jacket that somehow fits him so perfectly. He leaves his longer hair loose, falling over to frame his face as he speaks to the waitress. Once he is done, he sits back and relaxes, returning your perusing gaze with his.

“So what is it this time?” you ask him, “Are you travelling for business as usual, or”—your eyes follow his hand as he places his bag to his side and his camera on the table—”is it for leisure?”

His lips twitch to a smile, as if your curiosity pleases him.

A curiosity that never wanes, and has been left unanswered. You have always wondered how he does something like this; always there to find you while you are venturing into a new place, a new city, or even a new continent. As if he has always been just two steps behind you in every adventure you went to.

Or perhaps he has been two steps ahead of you, and he has always been there watching, waiting, until you finally come into his path, where he can swoop his way in with his tempting smile?

“A little bit of both,” he smoothly answers, his eyes falling on the leather-covered journal sitting right next to your coffee. “And you? Is it simply sightseeing, as always?”

You smile at him. “Always, while taking the chance to learn new things that I find in my trips.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. You’ve always found joy in learning as you enjoy your trips. A true scholar,” he hums, nodding. The conversation pauses as his coffee arrives. “Are you open to inviting someone on your trip this time around?” he asks once the waitress walks away, his eyes meeting yours with a look that is quite hard to read.

You’d like to believe there is hope there, some longing. Yet, Yoongi has always been a man of mystery, always able to read you, while never once allowing anyone to do the same to him.

You bite your lips as you pretend to contemplate your options. “Are you offering me your company?”

He shrugs. “You know I’m always open for a chance to enjoy a day or two with you while we’re in foreign places like this,” he says. The corner of his lips twitch to a grin. “I won’t even mind if you agree to stay longer. A whole week, perhaps?”

You hold back the urge to laugh. If only you knew.

“Well,” you coyly answer, “Then I suppose I’ll have you as my company. It might feel lonely if I simply go around all by myself, after all.”

He watches with a sly grin on his face as you raise your drink. He waits until you savour another taste of your coffee—probably recognising your subtle act of being coy—before he continues, “Will this invitation extend for the rest of the night?” Your hand freezes before you can place your cup back on the table.

Finding your calm, you carefully lift your gaze to meet his just as he asks, “Or are you going to disappear again before morning comes?”

Your smile fades when you remember those nights—the nights you spent with him during the other times you met him during your previous trips.

You weren’t exactly someone who falls easily into one-night stands. Not before Yoongi. But then he came into the picture, carrying with him a whole mystery that kept begging you to unravel. He has always been too enticing to refuse, with his beauty and alluring confidence that keeps pulling you in, that you couldn’t resist when he began inviting you to his bed after a few chance encounters were made.

It took only one night for it to begin, and your affair continued many nights after. One taste of his carnal passion and the pleasure he brings, and you’ve become addicted to him. No matter how hard you tried to resist, he would always be able to pull you back in.

Not that you have been trying that hard to avoid or refuse him either.

“You’re implying that I’ve been running away each time,” you taunt him with a light scoff, though there is no bite in your voice. There is, however, a pinch in your chest. Feeling like he can read you so well makes you vulnerable.

“Haven’t you?” he asks, and that tightness in your chest pinches harder.

Biting your lips, you try to push back the heat that is rising in your chest. Already, your body is reacting to him, when what you should be doing is deny him. “I’m not falling for your charm this time, Min Yoongi. The deal stays with you acting as my company and guide, that’s all.”

Yoongi leans forward, crossing his arms on the table as he keeps his eyes on you. The smile that he is wearing on his face tells you that he never has any intention of holding onto your ‘deal’.

As a matter of fact, you are starting to doubt that you can keep it either.

“Was it Paris, where we last met?” he asks you with a tease in his voice. “I remember you saying the same thing back then.”

You press your lips together, swallowing back any retort coming out of your mouth just as that night comes flashing by in your mind. Memories of that night are still vivid, so much so that you can almost feel it in your body as you recall it.

“Call it what you want, but that night was unforgettable for me,” he says, using his deep voice that has been haunting your lonely nights, always reminding you of him whispering sweet nothings to you while he was sending you to bliss. “You’re not going to tell me that you’ve forgotten how good that night ended, are you?”

You should. But you cannot find it in you to say anything to deny it.

Because it’s quite impossible to deny him. And if you have to be honest with yourself, you do find that night to be unforgettable. Not that you have done enough to try and forget, when all you have been doing the many nights after was to think about everything that happened then, and all the sinful things he did to you to turn you into a wanton woman who gave everything you had in exchange for the pleasure he was offering you.

Your eyes fall on his hand as he lifts his cup of coffee to his lips, and your mind brings back everything that the same hand—those fingers—did to you the last time you spent the night together. How those deft fingers caught your waist when he kissed you under the night sky, and how easily he made you shudder with his touch, flipping all of your buttons until you were left helpless in his arms.

You know that if you close your eyes right this moment, you will find yourself being brought back to that night. The woody scent of his cologne that is wafting towards you with the flowing breeze takes you back to his dark hotel bedroom. It makes you think of the warmth you felt engulfing you once he pulled you through the door, of the sound of your heartbeat racing and clothes falling the moment the door was locked behind you, of the warm, messy sheets you fell onto while he was devouring your lips with his heated, hungry kiss.

Your skin grows warm as you think about those lips tracing down your neck, your bare shoulders, your chest, while his fingers worked relentlessly to spark every inch of your body alight.

Your breasts tingle when your eyes land on his mouth, picturing those same lips capturing each of your hardened nipples as he bit, lapped, and sucked on each side, before pinching them with his deft fingers when his lips found yours again to swallow your moans.

Your body grows hot when you picture him sinking between your legs, giving you the ultimate pleasure that you had never once experienced with anyone before.

First, he did it with his sinful mouth and tongue, working them together to devour your sweet cunt until you were writhing on his bed, drowning in pleasure. And then he did it with his thick cock, filling you up to the brim until there was nothing left for you to give. Until you felt your entire world melting into his presence, and he became your entire universe as you were drowning in carnal release.

Your body shudders as you remember each hard thrust of his lovemaking, as he rocked your entire world every time he moved against you, pushing into you, giving you everything he could to bring you pleasure.

That night in Paris, your tryst didn’t end with just a single exchange of carnal pleasure. It lasted the entire night, only giving you the small chance to rest right before the break of dawn when both of you were spent after the long, intense, vigorous lovemaking, after he made you reach your climax more than once, and you fell asleep in his arms feeling nothing more but content.

That was the first night when everything he said before started to make sense; all his silly talk about fate, how your souls were being united as one as you made love, and about the pull that kept bringing you back together even while you were on the opposite sides of the world.

Because even after all those dark, heated passions began to wane, he still filled your entire world. He felt like the missing piece of your puzzle that you could never complete no matter how hard you tried to find it. No longer lost in the sea of people but was there in your arms as you held him against your bare chest.

And it scared you enough to make you rise from the bed in the middle of the night, leaving his sleeping figure behind to escape before your heart would give in and allow him in.

“Do you believe in soulmates?”

You remember him whispering those words to you while he was buried deep inside you, bringing waves of pleasure as he rocked your bodies together towards the peak of your release.

Tingles run through your body as it remembers every touch, every bit of love he made you feel, and the passion you shared that night. Heat pulses deep inside your core, right between your legs, and every part of your body that he touched and kissed and tasted.

Twisting in your seat, you press down against your pulsing desire, playing it off as excitement—something that is more pure and innocent instead of anything carnal—while asking,

“So, where are we heading to next?”

His smile grows deep and wide, recognising the invitation in your words, and knowing full well that the moment you fall into his bed again tonight, it’s going to be forever.

𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖆𝖉𝖊: dia’s birthday bash 2024 ⇝ closed!

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doki-doki-imagines · 10 months ago

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Heyy can you do more of those angel reader with the mk1 earthrealmers? Pleaseeee they are so good!!! Maybe this time they are all down bad for the reader and the reader feeling very tempted? 😍😍😍🥹🥹🥹

previous part

Johnny Cage: -Every time he looks at you, he bites his lower lip and eyes close a little; his gaze is so intense… -You are not used to being desired, and you know what he feels for you is sinful. -But DAMN, sin never looked so appetising for you like right now. -You tell Johnny about this. It's all nice and hot, 'till your position isn't at risk. -He understands, or at least nods his head. You aren't sure he really understood anything. -The real question is: for how long will you be able to resist his tempting gaze?

Kenshi Takahashi: -Kenshi is gonna pull out all the rizz power that he has hidden for all this time. -He has been young and extremely confident, breaking more than one heart and stealing others. He can do it. -IF ONLY IT WAS THAT EASY. -His palms sweat, and more than once, he stuttered in front of you like a teenager in front of their first crush. -You find him so cute that you decide to kiss his cheek, your wings protecting you both from unwanted eyes. -You kiss him near the corner of his lips, his stubble scratching you a little. -Kenshi blushes immediately, stuttering without being able to say a word. He really is a cute man.

Raiden: -He blushes every time you get near him, but his body always searches for yours. -Raiden hopes that the light coming from your wings will hide his "dumb fool in love" expression. -They don't, and you find him more adorable each day. -It's after a long day at the fields that you decide to visit him, droplets of sweat running down his forehead. -"I think you need to refresh." Raiden doesn't even understand what is happening, your lips on his own, something like a flow running in his soul… -"See? Good like you just woke up." You pinch his cheek before going back to your room. Raiden actually refreshed, no sign of sweat or tiredness. -But damn, his heart is running kilometres.

Kung Lao: -He hates how you made him blush like a kid last time. It's time for revenge. -"Good morning, Lao!" You smile at him, waving from the window of your room. "…" Doctor, we are losing him!! Bring the defibrillator!!! -He has no chance against you, but Lao has no desire to throw in the towel. -"Don't try to be a sour fox, angels dislikes it." You tell him before your lips brush against his ones. -A punishment after one of his pranks. Is this the punishment for naughty kids? -Lao isn't sure he wants to stop.

Liu Kang: -He was already down bad he can't get worse. -As much as Liu Kang has to look like a respectable leader, he'll always try to sneak away to be next to you. -"Liu Kang." "Yes, dear?" "You like me, right?" "Yeah, you are amazing with all of us." "You know I don't mean it in that way!" -Making an angel lose patience isn't easy. Good job, Liu Kang! -Now it is a game of soft gesture and teasing glances! Who will lose first?

Geras: -He goes straight to the point. "I like you more than a friend." "!!!!!!" -You are mostly worried for your position, not sure angels are allowed to have relationships. -"I know what you are thinking. I checked, nothing bad will come from our union." -That's why you fell for him. Geras makes you always feel secure.

Bi-Han: -He fights you because he doesn't know any other way to get close to you. -But it's when you put him back on the ground, wings spread wide and flaming swords pointing at his throat, that Bi-Han understands that maybe you aren't that bad. -He always wants to train with you, nagging and nagging 'till you let go and do as he asks. -"If you want to go out with me, you should take me to a date." "Why when I can get you and improve my technique?" "Because if we keep fighting, I'll cut your throat open before we can kiss."

Kuai Liang: -He is so enchanted by you that Liang just lose the ability to speak. -So he spars with you, muscles going by memory so Liang doesn't need his brain. "Your scar-" "It reminds me of terrible memories." "It gave you a beautiful new light. Be proud of what you've become." You say, thumb brushing his scar near the corner of his lips. -He'll nod and blush. -If only this light gave him the courage to ask you out…

Tomas Vrbada: -He goes straight to the point! Well, Tomas stutters and blushes but won't wait much before revealing his feelings. -Also, because he was totally obvious. -Tomas grips your hand and tells you his feelings, a guy so big looking like a puppy while revealing his feelings. -He makes you blush… -"Will you go out with me?!" "Yes!" Your wings spread at your reply, white feathers surrounding you both. -You both look like fools in love.

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kookslastbutton · 5 months ago

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Those Eyes Chico ༓ myg (m) | Chapter Three

✑ Summary: As the new marketing director for Min Yoongi’s upcoming D-Day album & tour, you’re expected to bring your expertise to the table. This shouldn’t be a problem—you’re the best in the business and you’re used to drawing a strict line between your professional and personal life. But what happens when the lines you’ve fought to keep as separate blur for the first time?

pairing: idol!yoongi x plus size!poc!reader

genre/AU: angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, coworkers2friends2lovers, winter setting, forbidden love

word count: 8.1k+

warnings: This chapter in particular is written from oc's perspective, oc is 28, Yoon is 30, oc is not originally from South Korea, oc has light brown eyes, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking, mentions of unhealthy parental relationships (attempts for arranged marriage), Oc being a total boss at work bc she is amazing at her job, and ofc more cute & meaningful Yoon and OC interactions (I love them 🥹)

now playing: Sweet Dreams by The Last Shadow Puppets

a/n: GUYS, I'm getting better at updating! It only took me a little over a month to get this chapter out vs two months last time. I'm going to keep trying to improve, but TYSM for your patience! I'm really proud of how this series is going so far, and this chapter omg...i just hope you enjoy hehehe. Anyway, this series is dedicated to my wonderfully crazy friend and sorta beta, Gloom @theuselessdaydreamingidiot, and to all our fellow Yoon lovers bc we miss our sweet man SO MUCH 🥺 Enjoy! 🥰 Also huge thank you to @itaeewon for designing this beautiful series header! Love it!!

Series Masterlist | next chapter >>

The past week and a half has been a whirlwind. Meetings, studio sessions, and preparations for “Suchwita” have consumed your days and nights. The tight deadlines and intense work pace have kept you on your toes, but there’s a growing excitement within you for the new venture. Today marks the first day of recording "Suchwita," and you find yourself buzzing with anticipation. Determined to ensure everything goes smoothly, you decide to arrive at the studio early to oversee the final preparations.

As you step into the makeshift studio space, you're greeted by a flurry of activity. Camera operators are setting up angles, lighting technicians are adjusting the brightness, and set designers are putting the final touches on the sleek, intimate set that will serve as the backdrop for the show.

The set has a warm, inviting aura with dark wood paneling, a cozy seating area, and a small bar stocked with various bottles of whiskey and soju.

You're impressed by how quickly everything has come together.

“Yoongi-ssi, good morning,” you call out as you approach Yoongi, who is already surveying the room. You notice him glance at you from the corner of his eye as you walk towards him. You have to admit, he looks great. The crew has styled him in denim blue jeans and a navy blue sweater, a casual yet polished outfit that complements the professional yet relaxed atmosphere of the set. It’s clear he arrived before you.

“Good morning __-ssi,” Yoongi replies, giving you a small smile. “Everything ready?”

“We’re almost there. Just a few final touches, and we should be good to go.”

“Great,” he nods, briefly scanning around the set. “The place looks better than I imagined.”

“I’m glad you think so,” you say with a satisfied expression. “We wanted it to reflect your personality and create an atmosphere where you and your guests can have open, honest conversations. How are you feeling this morning?”

“Pretty excited, actually,” he says, folding his arms in a composed manner. “A little nervous, but mostly excited. How are you and the rest of the team holding up with all the new developments?”

“We’re managing,” you say with a chuckle. “It’s been a lot of late nights and early mornings, but everyone’s excited about ‘Suchwita.’ It’s something different and refreshing. I think we’re all equally eager to see it succeed.”

Yoongi nods thoughtfully, taking a moment to soak in the details of the set. “It’s all coming together pretty fast. Do we know for sure who we’ll have on for the next few recordings?”

“We do,” you reply, “We’ve lined up a few other artists for the following episodes, including some from different genres. Your fellow members will also join as soon as their schedules permit. I think it’s going to be a good mix. Also, if there’s anyone in particular you’d like to have as a guest, just let me know. I’m sure we can coordinate it.”

“I’ll consider that,” Yoongi says, genuinely pleased. “I appreciate all the hard work you’ve put into this by the way. I know the timeline has been tight.”

“Well, it’s been a team effort,” you say, smiling warmly. “But thank you. It’s been fun, even if a bit hectic now and then. I have to say, it’s been nice working closely with you, Yoongi-ssi. You’re very dedicated to your craft and I think more often than not, we tend to see eye to eye.”

Yoongi seems to blush slightly at your compliment but maintains his composure. “Good to know you like me after fifteen days,” he says, a playful glint in his eyes. “I was starting to think this partnership might be a bit one-sided, especially after our chat during that smoke break a while ago.”

His lighthearted remark brings you back to that brief smoke break behind the building. It was a simple, candid moment, but it left a lasting impression, making you feel like you and Yoongi were finally starting to become good colleagues. The easy rapport that’s developed between you two since then is a welcome change from the often formal interactions with other team members.

“Well, if I recall correctly,” you counter, “You said you only like me ‘enough.’ That’s not quite the same as actually liking someone and wanting to work with them.”

Amused, Yoongi’s smirk grows. “It was implied, wasn’t it? You know I wouldn’t work with you if I didn’t actually like you.”

“Really?” you say, raising an eyebrow, your tone teasing.

“I have no reason to lie to you, __-ssi.” Yoongi insists, his voice light but his gaze steady. There’s a moment of playful tension in the air, both of you smiling as you challenge each other with your eyes.

“Interesting,” you reply, tilting your head slightly. Though mutually taunting each other, there’s something about Yoongi’s words and tone that still feels reassuring, grounding even.

Before either of you can exchange another word, you hear footsteps nearing behind you. Turning, you see Kim Namjoon entering the studio with a warm smile on his face. He’s dressed casually yet stylishly, exuding the effortless charisma that has made him a beloved figure among fans.

“Morning,” Namjoon greets, his voice carrying a familiar depth. He adjusts the bottom of his shirt, giving the studio a once-over. “I hope I’m not late or anything.”

Approaching Namjoon, you greet him with an inviting smile and extend your hand for a handshake. His response is equally friendly, and there’s a sense of gentle confidence coming from him, as any good leader should have.

“It’s wonderful to meet you, __-nim,” Namjoon responds, shaking your hand warmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you from Yoongi-hyung.”

Somewhat taken aback by the bit of information, you share a glance with Yoongi, who briefly meets your eyes before averting his gaze back to Namjoon. A faint rosy tint colors his cheeks once again.

“This place looks fantastic. You’ve really outdone yourselves,” Namjoon continues.

“Thank you,” you say, feeling a surge of pride. “We wanted to create a space where our guests feel comfortable and can have open, honest conversations. I think we’ve achieved that.”

Namjoon nods in agreement, taking in the surroundings with a thoughtful expression. “It definitely feels welcoming. I’m looking forward to seeing it all come together in the end.”

“Congratulations on your new album by the way,” you add. “I’m sure Indigo is going to be a success, especially amongst your fans who have been waiting for another solo from you for quite some time.”

“Thanks, it’s been a journey and I’m glad to have such a loyal fanbase who continue to support me for the last nine-plus years. It always lifts my spirits.”

“Absolutely, and you deserve it too,” you reply. “I’ve been a huge supporter of The Last Shadow Puppets for over ten years myself, and I think I’ve officially become their gatekeeper.” As you allow yourself a light chuckle, the two in front of you smile in return. Yoongi looks like he wants to press further but chooses to remain silent.

“Well anyway,” you shift topics due to the minor lull, “we should get started.”

Namjoon nods approvingly. “So, what’s the plan for today?”

“We’ve got a brief rundown for you,” you say, motioning towards a table with a few scripts and notes. “We’ll start with a casual chat to set the tone, then delve into some of your recent projects and thoughts on the music industry. We want it to be as natural and spontaneous as possible, so don’t worry about sticking too closely to the script. Also, we know ‘Indigo’ won’t be officially released for two more days, but ‘Suchwita’ is premiering on the 5th. That said, we are filming ahead of time so Yoongi might guide the conversation as if your album’s already been released.”

“Sounds good,” Namjoon says, his relaxed demeanor showing his readiness to go with the flow. “Anything specific you want me to prepare for?”

“No, just be yourself,” you reply with a reassuring smile. “That’s what this show is all about. Authentic conversations, nothing forced. Yoongi-ssi will take the seat on the right of the camera and Namjoon-nim, you’ll be on the left.”

“Got it,” Namjoon says, giving you a thumbs up. He then turns to Yoongi. “Hyung, ready to show off your hosting skills?”

Yoongi chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “We’ll see how it goes. It’s my first time doing something like this, so I’m just hoping not to embarrass myself.”

“You’ll do great,” Namjoon says confidently, giving Yoongi a supportive pat on the back. “Just be your usual, charming self.”

As the crew finishes their preparations and the cameras start rolling, you stand off to the side, monitoring the setup and ensuring everything runs smoothly. The room falls silent as the red recording light flickers on.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and leans back in his chair.

“Welcome, everyone, to the first episode of ‘Suchwita…time to drink with Suga.’ I’m your host, Min Yoongi, and today we have a very special guest. Someone who’s not just a fellow artist but a good friend and our BTS band leader, Kim Namjoon.”

“Happy to be here,” Namjoon says with a grin. “And thanks for the drink.” He picks up his glass of whiskey and raises it in a mock toast.

Yoongi chuckles and lifts his own glass. “Cheers, Namjoon-ah. Let’s dive in. I wanted to start by talking about your new album, Indigo. It’s been out for a few days now, and it’s already making waves. How are you feeling about the responses?”

Namjoon takes a sip before answering, his demeanor relaxed. “It’s been amazing. The fans have been so supportive, and it’s really encouraging to see people connecting with the themes and messages in the album. I wanted it to be something that reflects where I am in my life right now, both musically and personally.”

“That’s something I’ve always admired about your work,” Yoongi says, his tone genuine. “You’re not afraid to be vulnerable and share your thoughts and experiences. I think that’s why so many people resonate with your music.”

“It’s something we all strive for, isn’t it?” Namjoon replies, looking thoughtful. “To create art that’s true to ourselves and that speaks to others. I think it’s all about finding that balance between vulnerability and strength that can make music so relatable. Speaking of which, I’m excited to hear more about your upcoming album, D-Day. What can fans expect?”

Yoongi takes a moment to gather his thoughts. “D-Day is a very personal project for me. It’s a reflection of my journey and everything I’ve been through, especially over the past couple of years. There’s a lot of introspection and a lot of different sounds I’ve experimented with. I wanted it to be an honest portrayal of where I am right now.”

“That sounds incredible,” Namjoon says, leaning forward. “I know the fans are going to love it. You’ve always had a way of capturing emotions in your music that’s really powerful.”

As the conversation continues, you observe Namjoon closely, impressed by his ability to articulate his thoughts with clarity and depth. Yoongi’s previous nervousness has also subsided from the way he easily navigates the conversation, speaking with a similar passion and conviction as Namjoon.

The pair have a natural rapport that is captivating to watch, and their insights into the creative process are both fascinating and inspiring.

After about an hour, when the first taping wraps up, the crew applauds as Yoongi and Namjoon stand and share a brief hug.

“Well we did it,” Yoongi says, looking relieved. “Thanks for being my first guest.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies, grinning. “You did great, Yoongi I think this show is going to be a hit.”

“Great job, both of you.” You approach the two with a smile, earning their attention. “Fans are going to love seeing you two together once this releases. It’ll set the tone for the rest of the episodes. Thanks again, Namjoon, for being here. Your support means a lot.”

“It was my pleasure,” Namjoon replies, returning your smile. “I can’t wait to see how the show turns out.”

Just as you’re about to head off to the production room, Namjoon briefly checks his phone and then looks at Yoongi. “Hey, how do you feel about grabbing some lunch at the cafeteria? It’s been a while since we had a proper meal together.”

Yoongi’s face lifts at the suggestion. “I’m up for it. I’m starving.”

Namjoon then shifts his gaze at you. “What about you __-nim?”

You hesitate for a moment, feeling an obvious pang of hunger. You hadn’t eaten much this morning other than a few strawberries. However, you don’t want to intrude on their time together.

As you debate whether to decline the invitation and catch up on Taehyung’s whereabouts or attend to your next work projects, Yoongi speaks up. “The more the merrier,” he says.

“Yeah, if you don’t have anything pressing we’d love to have you join us,” Namjoon adds, the same warm smile on his face.

Your eyes shift between the two men standing in front of you, sincerity evident in their expressions.

“Okay, sure, I could go for something to eat,” you reply, nodding.

With a collective agreement, the three of you make your way to the cafeteria. Once there, Yoongi opts for a heaping plate of bulgogi, his eyes gleaming at the sight of the colorful vegetables and perfectly marinated beef. Namjoon selects a fresh, savory bowl of stir-fried noodles himself, while you choose a hearty bowl of ramen, steam rising from the rich broth.

Despite the bustling lunch hour, you manage to find a table near the large windows. The sunlight streaming through gives you a much-needed boost of energy.

“Here’s to a successful first episode,” Namjoon says, raising his glass of water in a toast.

“Cheers,” you and Yoongi respond in unison, clinking glasses.

As you start to dig into your meals, Namjoon turns to Yoongi. “So, what’s the lineup gonna look like for the next few episodes?”

Yoongi takes a sip of his drink before answering. “We’re planning on bringing in more artists from other groups, a couple of comedians, and maybe some actors. We want to keep it diverse and not just stick to musicians. But I’d also like to get the rest of our members on the show too at some point.”

“That’s smart,” Namjoon agrees, taking a bite of his noodles. “It’ll keep the conversations dynamic and appeal to a broader audience.”

“You know,” you chime in, “I think one of the strengths of ‘Suchwita’ is going to be its versatility. Yoongi, your ability to connect with people from different backgrounds will be a huge asset.”

Yoongi smiles appreciatively. “Thanks. I just hope I can keep up the energy and bring out the best in each guest.”

“You will,” Namjoon says confidently. “Just be yourself. That’s what people are tuning in for—the real Yoongi, having real conversations. Fans like seeing how well you can hold your whiskey too. It’s all part of the charm.”

Yoongi chuckles at the sheer truth of it all. “It’s nice to be able to do something like this, to be honest. Not just for the fans, but also for our colleagues who we can spotlight and bring further appreciation to.”

“I know what you mean, man.” Namjoon swallows another mouthful of noodles and then directs his attention to you. “I don’t imagine you’ll be a guest on the show will you?”

“Definitely not,” you reply, shaking your head. “I’ll be in the background, like a puppet master.”

“Ah, gotta make sure hyung says the right stuff huh? Trust me, I’d be the first to understand that,” Namjoon chuckles before continuing.“I feel like you’d be a natural on the show though. I, for one, would make sure to watch.” There’s a suggestive undertone in his words but you’re quick to waive it off. It’s probably just your imagination anyway.

“I wouldn’t mind having an excuse to enjoy some old-fashioned whiskey at work,” you reply. “It’s been a long-time favorite of mine.”

“Oh, you like it too?” Namjoon’s eyes widen unexpectedly. “No wonder you and Yoongi work well together.”

Intrigued, Yoongi looks at you, and it’s now that you realize he’s chosen to take the seat next to you instead of Namjoon. If you leaned any further towards him, you’re certain you’d catch the scent of smoked wood and citrus. “I always keep a bottle in my producing room these days,” he admits, and like Namjoon there’s a slight implication behind his words.

Before entertaining any further thoughts about it, however, you playfully snort in reply. “Is that what you’re doing up there at 10 pm? Having your whiskey? Here I’ve been thinking you were busy mixing your tracks.”

Yoongi shrugs, meeting your teasing tone. “I can do both. I’m good at multitasking.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you land a gentle, but firm swat on his arm. The unsuspecting action would have taken you all aback if you weren’t already amused by the conversation. “Yoongi-ssi,” you feign a scold, “no one’s actually good at multitasking.”

“So what are you saying? I’m half-assing it?” He’s grinning ear to ear now, his gummy smile undeniably cute. For a split second, it causes a blooming sensation in the pit of your stomach. But no, stop—you fold your arms, determined to maintain composure.

“I’m just saying that I’ll believe it when I see it.”

As if in a challenge, Yoongi narrows his eyes at you while Namjoon continues watching the scene unfold from across the table, eyes darting between the two of you. “You’ll have to come up to my producing room sometime,” Yoongi says. “It’s the only way I can prove it to you.”

“Mhm, right.” You share a knowing look with Yoongi, his dark eyes dancing with what can only be described as mischief. Being that his music equipment is on the 17th floor, which is reserved for Hybe artists only, you haven’t even considered venturing to the upper halls.

“You really should see his producing room __-nim,” Namjoon chimes after being a spectator for longer than he’d like. “He’s got an insane setup up there.”

“We’ll see,” you reply simply, “Maybe.”

From the remainder of your meal, the conversation shifts to lighter topics as Yoongi recounts a funny story about trying to write lyrics late at night and accidentally sending them to his accountant instead of Taehuyng. Namjoon bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his water, while you shake your head in amused disbelief.

“Did they give you any financial advice on your lyrics?” you prob.

“Surprisingly, no.” Yoongi replies with a chuckle. “But I got a very confusing email the next morning.”

“We should do this more often,” Namjoon interjects once he finishes his noodles, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “It’s good to catch up, and it’s great getting to know you too, __-nim. I’m glad you could join us.”

“Well, thanks for inviting me,” you say with a smile of gratitude. “It’s been nice.”

After lunch concludes, you part ways with Yoongi and Namjoon. They head off to a meeting with the rest of the members, while you return to your office to tackle a pile of reports. If you hadn’t been so focused on making your way back, you might have noticed Yoongi sneaking a final glance at you over his shoulder.

Later that evening, after a long day of preparations and discussions with your team, you finally head home. The events of the day still linger in your mind, but a sense of accomplishment accompanies your fatigue as the first episode of 'Suchwita' is already being edited for release.

How is it that tomorrow is already the first day of December? Time flies.

As you unlock the door to your apartment and step inside, your phone buzzes with a notification. It’s a message from your parents, asking for the second time if you’ll be coming home for the holidays. You recall your mother’s earlier message mentioning someone she wanted to introduce you to—a potential husband. You had seen through her request instantly but had delayed your reply.

A pang of guilt now tugs at your heart as you finally type out your response, carefully explaining that you have a new project to film and won’t have many days off. You promise to try and visit around New Year’s instead, hoping you’ll be better mentally prepared then.

Setting your phone down, you realize you haven’t heard from Taehyung today. Usually, he checks in or shares a quick update about his schedule. You wonder if everything is alright with him but decide not to overthink it, making a mental note to reach out to him tomorrow.

After changing into more comfortable clothes, you settle down on the couch with a cup of tea. The quietness of your apartment is a stark contrast to the lively energy of the production set.

As you sip your tea, you start to relax, but then your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a message from Taehyung. You quickly open it, relieved to see his name.

Tae 💚: Hey, sorry I didn’t check earlier. It’s been a crazy day. How did the first taping go with Yoongi and Namjoon?

Smiling, you type out a reply.

You: It went really well. We should have everything edited and ready for upload by Monday. How about you? Everything okay?

Tae 💚: Good to hear! Yeah, everything’s okay on my end. Just a full day with shoots and meetings with Bang PD. I’m sorry we didn’t get to have our usual lunch together 🙁

You: Me too. Maybe tomorrow?

Tae 💚: I should be able to. Let me know when you decide to head down. By the way…look [attached an image]

The second you see the image of farm-fresh strawberries in a vibrant green container, you nearly leap from your seat. You and Taehyung love fruit, especially the ones from the local farmers market where they have the best variety. You like to go every other weekend, at the same time, if you could. The only unfortunate part is that to keep down rumors, Taehyung and you often shopped separately as if strangers, then reconvened in a private location to show each other your purchases. Often, he’d come to your place for a meal afterward.

It wasn’t an ideal system since you’d like to be out with Taehyung more freely, but despite the crowds, the public was always quick to recognize him. This coming Saturday is the next time you both planned to go, but the image looks like he’s already been there.

You: What?! 😭 You went to the farmers market without me??

Tae 💚: Oh, no! I wouldn't dream of it! This is the last container I have at my house, so we need to go soon. Saturday can’t come soon enough!

You: Okay good, because I like going together haha. I need more mangos and oranges! I ate my last orange today and got sad about it.

Tae 💚: 🤣 You sound like Yoongi-hyung. He loves oranges too. The two of you have more similarities in food and drinks than I thought. Has he offered you a drink of his whiskey yet?

The question surprises you. Had Yoongi told him what happened between the two of you at lunch?

You: How did you know that?

Tae 💚: Wait, really? I was just asking because he likes to offer it to me whenever I visit him in his studio. He really asked you to have a drink with him? __?

You: Yes. After we filmed, we all decided to grab lunch. Long story short, Yoongi said he had whiskey in his producing room and said I should come up sometime. I haven’t even been to the 17th floor yet.

Tae 💚: You should take him up on the offer! Go see what he’s got going on up there __. His studio is pretty immaculate.

You: Hmm, I don't know. It was a pretty informal invite, to be honest, and I’m not technically allowed up there.

Tae 💚: Don’t think so much about it. It’s clear that you and Yoongi are work partners now, so no one will think twice about you being on the floor. Also, you can always come up and visit me. I’m down the hall from Yoongi’s room.

You: We’ll see.

Tae 💚: What? You don’t want to come up and see me? I always visit you. 😭

You: Fine, fine. I’ll come up to see you one of these days, but only you. I have no business knocking on Yoongi’s door while he’s busy with his album tracks.

Tired, you shut off your phone. Your thoughts drift back to the moments shared with Yoongi and Namjoon during lunch. It was nice getting to know Namjoon for the first time, as you’ve been curious about him since he’s been the leader of BTS for the past nine years. There’s a similarity you both share; leadership experience.

You feel like you got closer to Yoongi as well, with the way you both easily responded to each other’s quips. But where did that playful swat come from? That’s the kind of behavior you reserve for friends only. Was Yoongi starting to become more than a colleague?

The idea sends an unexpected rush through your veins.

With the first of December being tomorrow, it’s coming up on three weeks of working side by side with Yoongi. You meant it when you said working with him has been enjoyable, as you’ve found that his meticulous nature complements your own. His dry humor is one you’ve particularly come to appreciate too.

Yes, finding common ground on some decisions can be tricky. There have been moments where you’ve both stood firm on your perspectives, each believing in the merit of your ideas. However, even amid disagreement, there is always mutual respect extended toward each other. Yoongi listens intently, considering your points before responding, and you do the same for him.

Given the nature of it all, you have a feeling you’ll become better acquainted not only with Yoongi but also with the rest of his members. After all, you’re already best friends with Taehyung, who’s quite the networker. He’s been your anchor in this new environment since day one, to be honest, always ready with a smile or a word of encouragement.

Taking another sip of your tea, you lean your head back against the couch, staring up at the blank ceiling, lost in thought.

You should truly learn to savor the quiet moments because, for the remainder of the week, you don’t get a second to spare. Lunch with Taehyung was abruptly cut short by an unforeseen team emergency, and Yoongi’s packed schedule left little room for more than fleeting glimpses. By the time Saturday morning rolls around, you consider yourself fortunate to have the weekend mostly free of work demands.

The crisp chill of early December invigorates you as you wake up refreshed, eager for the farmers market trip you’ve been looking forward to all week. After a quick breakfast, you bundle up in a cozy scarf and jacket and head to the familiar meeting spot where you and Taehyung always begin your market visits.

When you arrive, Taehyung is already there, a familiar baseball cap perched on his head to help keep a low profile. He looks up and waves when he sees you, a bright smile lighting up his face.

"Hey! You made it," Taehyung says as you approach.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss this," you reply, grinning back. "I need my mango and orange fix."

"Well, you're in luck. They have some really good ones today," he says, carefully pointing towards the nearby stalls that overflow with colorful fruits. The market appears to be alive with vibrant colors and enticing scents, and as the crowds grow, vendors enthusiastically call out their specials, adding to the lively atmosphere.

“See you on the other side?” you ask.

He nods, and you both venture into the market, maintaining an appropriate distance but always within sight. You exchange occasional glances and smiles while picking out the ripest mangos, juiciest oranges, and a few baskets of the strawberries he teased you about earlier in the week.

As you weave through the stalls, you soon get lost in the joy of discovering fresh, local products, comforted by the knowledge that Taehyung's just a few stalls away.

After about an hour, you reconvene at a quiet corner of the market, both carrying bags filled with fruits and other goodies.

"Successful haul?" Taehyung asks, eyeing your bags.

"Definitely," you reply, holding up a mango triumphantly. "How about you?"

"Got everything I wanted," he says, showing off his own bags filled with strawberries, grapes, and a few other items. "These will be perfect for a smoothie, or a fruit salad."

"How about we head back to my place and one of those? If you have time."

“Yes, I definitely have time,” he agrees, a genuine excitement in his voice.

Just as you start walking towards your apartment, a sudden movement catches your eye—a rogue orange rolling towards your feet.

Puzzled, you pick it up and look around, thinking it must have come from a nearby vendor or another shopper.

"Looks like you've found your orange," Taehyung remarks with a chuckle.

Just then, you spot a familiar figure sprinting towards you, with another following closely behind.

"Namjoon, seriously? I asked you to hold the bag for not even five seconds!" Yoongi calls out, his tone a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You're going to start a fruit-rolling revolution."

“Hey, it got away from me, man!” Namjoon defends his clumsiness, laughing. “Sorry about that," he adds sheepishly, not yet realizing who he's approaching.

“__-nim!” He abruptly stops in his tracks when he recognizes you and Taehyung in front of him. You offer the orange to him instinctively, feeling a bit startled.

“Thanks,” Namjoon says, taking the orange from your hand. He looks you straight in the eye, then at Taehyung before slowly breaking into a full smile. “I thought I saw the two of you back there, but Yoongi didn't believe me. When did you guys get here? Yoongi and I arrived about twenty minutes ago."

"About an hour ago," Taehyung replies casually.

"Man, you should have let us know. We could have come as a group!”

The remark catches you off guard, as this is the first time the four of you have been in such close proximity, let alone on a group outing.

Taehyung shrugs nonchalantly in response. “I had plans with __.”

Namjoon chuckles, glancing between all of you. “Well hey, I understand. I’m just saying, I’d be fun to hang out outside of work sometime.”

“But, this is our thing,” Taehyung counters, a bit possessively, in a platonic sense, of course.

Beside Namjoon, Yoongi stands with a single bag of oranges in his hand and nothing else. His eyes widen slightly at Taehyung's words, glancing at the bag of oranges nestled among the other fruits you're holding.

"You have a thing?" Yoongi asks, his tone a mix of genuine surprise and a hint of amusement.

"Yeah, we come here often," Taehyung answers, a small smile playing on his lips. "We're both fruit fanatics!"

"Right," Yoongi nods slowly, seeming to process this new information. "Well, it makes sense then. This is the best place to get the freshest fruit.”

“Is that a pineapple, Tae?” Namjoon’s eyes instantly light up when they spot the spiky fruit peeking out of one of Taehyung’s grocery bags.

A grin spreads across Taehyung’s face, like oil on water. “Yeah, it is. I found it at a little hidden stall. It’s easier to show you than to explain. I can take you over if you’d like.”

“Lead the way,” Namjoon agrees eagerly, then glances over at you and Yoongi. “You guys coming too?” You both exchange a quick look before shaking your head.

"We'll stay here," you say. "The crowd's a bit much."

"Alright, we’ll be back in a few minutes,” Taehyung nods. He and Namjoon begin weaving their way back into the bustling market, leaving you and Yoongi in the quiet corner.

Yoongi leans against a nearby wall and lets out a contented sigh. “This is nice. It’s been a hell of a week.”

You nod, taking a moment to appreciate the calmness as well. “It has. But look,” you gesture casually to each other’s bags, “at least we scored some amazing fruit from it.”

Yoongi chuckles softly. “So we did. I’m tempted to have one of my oranges now, but I think I'll save them for later. How’s the rest of the weekend looking for you by the way?”

Just some editing work for 'Suchwita' and maybe a bit of relaxation. What about you?"

“I might grab a few drinks with Namjoon, but I plan on spending most of my time in the studio. I’ve been fine-tuning my album tracks and recently discovered a new artist who’s been a huge source of inspiration.”

“Really?” You’re beyond intrigued, always open to hearing about new music. “Who are they?”

Yoongi gives you a knowing look. “I think you’re already pretty familiar with them.” A sparkle beams in his eyes as he waits for you to connect the dots. It takes you a few seconds before your entire face lights up with a big smile.

“No way,” you exclaim, “The Last Shadow Puppets?!”

He nods, returning your smile. Yoongi’s admission about The Last Shadow Puppets sends a warm thrill through you.

“I’m glad you gave them a listen,” you say with a pleased grin. “I consider Alex Turner to be one of the best, if not the best, lyricists of all time.”

“Well, I might just have to agree with you there. The depth of his lyrics are pretty damn genius. After you mentioned the band the other day, I got curious and decided to dive into their discography. I’ve listened to everything they’ve put out now, all in one sitting.” He pauses, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

It’s as if he’s proud to share this with you.

“I didn’t realize you had such an impressive ear for music, __-ssi,” he adds, teasing lightly.

“Excuse you? I’ve been known to have impeccable taste, for your information,” you fire back, feigning offense. "I might even have better taste than you."

Yoongi raises an eyebrow skeptically. “Is that so?”

You nod confidently. "Absolutely. I've got a knack for finding hidden gems."

“Alright then, impress me. Recommend me something else. What's the next masterpiece on your list?”

You lean in closer, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, I could do that," you begin, "but then you'd owe me cigarettes for a week."

Yoongi's eyes widen slightly, a similar competitiveness reflecting in his gaze. "Bold words. Are you sure you can back them up?"

“There’s no doubt I can, Yoongi-ssi. Have you ever listened to 'Candy' by Paolo Nutini? If you haven't, you're seriously missing out."

"Candy? I don't think I know that one."

"You're in for a treat then,” you reply. "'Candy' is one of those songs that hook you from the first listen. Give it a try, and if you don't fall in love with it, I'll cook you kimchi jigae for lunch on Monday. But if you do love it, you're buying me cigarettes for a week."

Yoongi chuckles, unable to resist the challenge. "Alright, deal. I can't say no, especially with Taehyung showing off the food you make for him nearly every chance he gets. You’re quite the cook, it seems.”

With a satisfied grin, you pull out your phone. "I'll send you the link to the song so it'll be easier for you to find when you get a chance to listen."

Yoongi nods, already unlocking his phone. “Challenge accepted. But if I end up not loving it, I'm holding you to that bowl of kimchi jigae.”

“Sure thing,” you reply, unfazed. “But I’m already looking forward to those cigarettes, Yoongi-ssi. Make sure you get the good ones, okay?”

Yoongi chuckles in reply, shaking his head in amusement.

“I promise. Only the best ones for you, __-ssi.”

Monday arrives sooner than expected with the highly anticipated release of the first episode of 'Suchwita'. You're certain that the new production will be well received by the audience, but you know better than to prematurely declare its success. Even after approving the final edits over the weekend, you remind yourself to remain mindful of unexpected challenges lurking around the corner—roadblocks and last-minute changes that continually test your team's resolve.

Throughout the day, as the clock ticks towards evening, you monitor the episode's reception with bated breath. The first reviews trickle in within minutes, and initial viewer reactions are positive, gradually easing some of your tension.

By just past 7 pm, 'Suchwita' earns over three million views, its popularity evident as it spreads rapidly across the globe.

Amidst this whirlwind of emotions and the constant rush of notifications, a familiar buzz from your phone interrupts your thoughts.

Yoongi: Looks like I owe you some cigarettes

You smile, immediately recalling the recent wager the two of you made about Paolo Nutini's "Candy”. Truth be told, Yoongi’s reaction to the song has kept you on edge for days.

You: So, do you believe I have a good ear for music now? 🙃 I’m pleased you enjoyed the song, by the way.

Yoongi: It appears I do. The cigarettes are in my production room. Come by if you're up for it.

You blink at the screen, taken aback. Yoongi's producing room was his sanctuary, a place so personal and significant that the thought of being in that space felt almost invasive. You recall his casual remark last Wednesday about coming up to take a look, though it was unclear if it was just banter or a genuine invitation.

You: You sure it's okay for me to come up there? I don't want to disturb your creative zone.

Sending the message, you wait, half-expecting him to retract the invitation or reassure you in some way. Instead, his reply comes almost instantly.

Yoongi: It's quiet here, and I wouldn’t mind some good company.

Your mind wrestles with curiosity and caution as you reread the text. After a moment's deliberation, you type your response.

You: Okay, I can come up for a few minutes

Once in front of the 17th floor where Yoongi’s production room is located, you pull out your phone to send him a text, notifying him of your arrival and the need to be let in. Just as you're about to send the message, however, the door suddenly swings open.

Standing before you is a man with soft eyes, gently pushing the door open. It's Park Jimin, looking visibly surprised to find you standing just inches away from the entrance. Behind him, Jungkook nearly bumps into him from the abrupt halt.

"Hey there," Jimin says, his surprise quickly transforming into a welcoming smile. "You must be __-nim, Yoongi's marketing manager, right?"

You nod, slightly unprepared for how quickly they've identified you. "Yes, that's me. Nice to meet you, Jimin, Jungkook," you reply warmly, extending your hand in greeting. Meeting them was inevitable, but you didn’t expect it to happen tonight.

Jungkook grins and nods in acknowledgment. "Nice to meet you too, __-nim. I’m guessing you’re here to see Yoongi-hyung?”

“For a little bit, yes.”

"Come on in then.” Jimin steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. “If Yoongi's expecting you, you're more than welcome. We'd take you straight to him if we weren't rushing off to a last-minute photoshoot. His room's just down the hall on the left. You can’t miss it."

“I completely understand,” you assure them gratefully. “Thank you both. It was nice meeting you.”

With a final smile, the pair exits the floor, leaving you to continue down the hallway.

It doesn't take long before you spot a slightly ajar door on the far left, casting a warm glow into the corridor—undeniably Yoongi’s production room. Without hesitation, you approach and knock gently on the dark oak, but there's no response. Trying again yields the same silence, leaving you uncertain if he can hear you. Deciding it may be better to push the door open, you do so with caution.

Inside Yoongi's production room, the atmosphere is cozy, filled with an array of musical instruments, a decent-sized couch, scattered music sheets, and a softly glowing computer screen displaying complex audio tracks. Taehyung and Namjoon were absolutely right when they said his space is immaculate because as you take in the details around you, you too conclude that it’s one of a kind.

Yoongi himself is at his desk, leaning over with an expression of intense focus. You're prepared to make a playful remark to capture his attention, but as Yoongi looks up, his bloodshot eyes stop you short. They are reddened and slightly glazed, with dark circles underneath—a stark contrast to the usual sharpness and clarity in his gaze. Even his posture seems weighed down by exhaustion, indicating just how hard he's been pushing himself, perhaps too hard.

“I see you found the place alright," he smiles weakly, though he does his best to keep his tone uplifted. "I’m glad you could come."

“Yoongi-ssi, are you okay?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, concern only tightening in your chest as you realize the extent of the strain he must be under.

Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his eyes as if to wipe away the fatigue etched into his face. “I might have overdone it this weekend,” he confesses, his voice heavy with weariness. “I’ve been working on this track nonstop, trying to get it just right. I just don’t think it’s good enough yet, and the minute I think I’ve finally made a break though, I’m back to square one.” Seeing him so drained and filled with self-doubt stirs something protective within you.

“Your work is incredible, Yoongi-ssi,” you say, your voice gentle but firm. “You pour so much of yourself into it, constantly striving for perfection, and that dedication is admirable. But sometimes, it’s important to take a step back, breathe, and allow yourself to be proud of your work. I believe in your talent as both an artist and a producer, and I'm confident that your music will be exactly what it needs to be.”

Yoongi looks at you for a moment, his tired eyes searching yours as if assessing your sincerity. Slowly, a small, appreciative smile forms on his lips. "Thanks," he murmurs, the weariness in his voice tempered by a hint of gratitude. "I think I needed to hear some of that tonight.”

Without another word, he leans back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh. His shoulders visibly relax, and for a brief moment, the weight of exhaustion seems to ease.

"Do you want to talk about what you've been working on?” you ask. “Sometimes bouncing ideas around helps."

Yoongi nods slowly, looking thoughtful. "Maybe that's exactly what I need right now," he admits, his tone more relaxed than before. He gestures to the leather couch near his desk, inviting you to sit.

As you settle into the comfortable leather couch, Yoongi begins to share his thoughts. He speaks about the challenges he's encountered with the track, detailing moments of doubt and frustration.

"I've been wrestling with this melody for weeks," he admits, leaning forward slightly. "It's like I can hear it in my head, but every time I try to put it down, it slips away."

He describes how he struggled to find the right melody, the perfect rhythm, and the lyrics that would convey exactly what he wanted to express.

"I want this track to resonate with people on a deeper level," he says earnestly, his eyes reflecting his determination. “But it's been tough trying to balance the beat with the lyrics."

As he delves deeper into his creative process, you notice a shift in his demeanor. His voice becomes more animated, his gestures more expressive as he shares anecdotes about late-night studio sessions, where ideas flowed freely, and moments of clarity when everything seemed to click into place.

"It's moments like those," he reflects with a smile, "that remind me why I love what I do."

Throughout the conversation, you offer supportive nods and occasional insights, encouraging Yoongi to explore different angles or suggesting ideas that might complement his vision. It becomes clear that bouncing ideas around, as you suggested earlier, is indeed helping him to clarify his thoughts and reignite his creative spark.

"You know," he muses after a thoughtful pause, "it's rare to find someone who gets it—understands the drive, the struggle. Most people just see the end result, not what it takes to get there."

You nod again, silently acknowledging the depth of what he shares. "I'm glad I can be here for you," you reply sincerely. "It means a lot that you trust me with this."

"Would you like a drink? Some whiskey, maybe?" Yoongi pops the question out of nowhere, catching you off guard, yet you don’t decline the offer.

"Sure, but only if you promise to get some rest after," you counter, half-joking, half-serious. He chuckles in response.

Rising from his seat, Yoongi walks to a small cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses. As he pours the amber liquid, the room seems to exhale with him, the earlier tension melting away.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asks, handing you a glass of whiskey and gesturing to the space beside you on the couch.

You nod in acceptance and take a sip of your drink, feeling the warmth of the whiskey spread through you.

"Thanks for coming up here," Yoongi says, his voice noticeably more relaxed than before. ”I didn't realize how much I needed a break until tonight.”

You nod, understanding the weight of creative pressures and the relentless pursuit of perfection. "It's important to recharge," you reply gently, raising your glass. "To moments like this—where we can step back and just be."

Yoongi clinks his glass against yours, a faint smile playing on his lips. "To moments like this," he echoes, taking a sip.

As the conversation flows, the evening unfolds into a rhythm of shared stories, musings about life, and occasional quiet moments where the only sound is the soft hum of the room.

“__-ssi,” he starts, swirling the whiskey in his glass, "I should really get you up here more often. This could be a thing. Whiskey breaks in my producing room."

You laugh, the sound light and genuine. "Count me in," you reply, raising your glass once more.

"And before I forget," Yoongi chuckles, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, "I owe you for introducing me to some new, kick-ass music."

"Why, thank you," you reply with a smile. "Much appreciated. You got the good kind too. You spoil me, Yoongi-ssi."

“You’re welcome. Can I be honest for a second though?”

“Sure.”

“Part of me was actually hoping I’d dislike ‘Candy’ because I had a feeling you make a mean kimchi jigae. But the song was too good; I had to pay it respect.”

“I told you you’d fall in love with it, Yoongi-ssi” you say, perhaps a bit cheekier than intended. “Let's start a new wager: I'll make my special homemade kimchi jigae for you.”

"Really?" His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas day.

"Yes, I will," you giggle, "as long as you keep taking my music recommendations."

"Deal," he says firmly, setting down his glass. He extends his hand for you to shake, and you both laugh at his sudden goofiness. “Thanks again for tonight, __-ssi, for everything.”

“Of course,” you reply. “I told you we’re teammates now, didn’t I?”

“After tonight, I think we could be friends too.”

As you both linger in the moment, the studio's door swings open, and a voice calls out, "Hey, Yoongi, are you still here?"

Yoongi glances towards the door and then back at you with a playful smirk. "Looks like I've got more company," he says, nodding towards the doorway.

I’ll let you get back to work," you say, gesturing towards his mixing board. "Can't wait to hear more of these tracks."

"Thanks," he says warmly, appreciating your encouragement. "And about that kimchi jigae…"

"You haven't forgotten?" you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Never,” he replies with a grin, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

With a final wave, you leave Yoongi to his work, wondering if perhaps being friends wasn't so far-fetched after all. Only time would tell.

a/n: Hope you enjoyed it! Lmk what you think 🥰

Tags:

@jksjx @junecat18 @babystarcandyjk97 @mygssibal @unoriginal-username15432 @vikibangtann @coffeedepressionsoup @jjkluver7 @p34rluv @tannieflix @kingofbodyrolls @butterymin @waitaminswife @mygssibal @rkivved-girl @parapiop7 @betysotelo18 @mimisweaterpaws @wobblewobble822 @a-gayish-unicorn @constancelayon @idkreallys-blog @juju-227592 @urlovelily @itsmina29 @jub-jub @cerulean1riz @rinkud @cybercheesygurl

Masterlist | Requests: closed | Taglist | Fic Recs

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

#yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfics #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #fic:thoseeyeschico #kookslastbutton

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sh1nch1r0 · 5 months ago

Text

𝖐_𝖊𝖎𝖘𝖚𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖔𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖚

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

Baji x Reader

U have a crush on Baji and u find his insta stuff like that…

(ur best friend and u have matching insta names u are called Geto and ur Besties is Gojo)

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

„Do you think thats really him?“ u questione ur Best Friend.

„OMG just request himmm“she says annoyed and tries to take the perfect picture of her parfait.

„U can request him first then i do it“u plead.

„No,thats against the girls girl code“she says and smiles at you.

„Fine…but if anything goes wrong i blame u“u add.

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

U make ur way home from ur meet up.

Ur headphones were on and u were listening to ur Favorite Playlist as u heard a notification trough ur ear buds.

•K_eisuke accepted ur request

U clicked at the Banner and his instagram Account pops up.

He has a couple of pictures of cats and his friends in his feed and two story highlights.U look at the highlights they were nothing special either cats or some pictures of his friends with bikes.

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

„Did u follow her back???“ Chifuyu asks.

„NO.“ Baji says and looks at the Blonde.

„Whyyyy…..u i tought u like her“he says confused amd Baji gives him a annoyed look.

„Fuyu,shut it…..shes ugly and not my type“the black haired says and looks away.

„HUH do u listen to urself man?“his friend questions him.

„At first u cant stop speaking about her and now u call her ugly…Baji….are u sick?“ this earns him a gentle punch from Baji and so he shuts up.

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

It was 00:56 and u were scrooling trough instagram,as u refresh the site u see Baji posted a story.

•K_eisuke mentioned draken_,the.realmikey,and fuyu.matsuno in his story

u click the like button and u see another notification pop onto ur screen.Ur friend mentioned u in her story twice.

•g0joo. has mentioned you in her Story

•Caption:@Get_0 always asleep🫡😀

•U reposted this Story

•U added the Caption 🫥🥱🖕🏻

U swipe to the Second story of her and u see a picture of urself.

•g0joo. has mentioned u in her story

•Caption @Get_0 „DELETE IT I LOOK UGLYYYY“

•U reposted the Story

•Caption DELETE THAT 👽🥹😀

And with that u turn or phone off,u plug in the charger and u get out of bed to do ur skincare,as u return u see a new notification on ur screen.

•K_eisuke has requested to follow you

•U accepted his follow request

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

„Watcha Lookin at“Baji screams at Chifuyu as they wait for the Traffic light to turn green.

„Just looking at her Insatgram Account“Chifuyu says louder so Baji could hear him over the roaring of the Engined.

„Lemme see“he says and tries to catch a glimpse.

„Follow her yourself u prick“Chifuyu answeres.

Baji just rolls his eyes takes out his phone and clicks on the follow back button on your profile.As he puts his phone back into his pocket the traffic light turns green.

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

The Night Air was cold and u couldn’t sleep so u stalk his instagram posts and the newest one catches ur eye.

•K_eisuke has mentioned fuyu.matsuno

•Caption 🐈‍⬛Pussy

•fuyu.matsuno has commented When will u get Real Pussy?!

•U liked fuyu.matunos comment

The picture of him was hot,Baji was quiet popular amongst girls but u heard that only a few ladies were accepted in his Instagram Account.

And u are one of them.👹

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

•Get_0 posted and mentioned g0joo.

•Caption My Personal Sleep Paralysis Demon🥹😬

•g0joo commented 😀do i need to save u

•fuyu matsuno liked this post

•k_eisuke liked this post

•k_eisuke commented Did u try giving him ur soul?🐈‍⬛

„See u have a crush on her“Fuyu says beside him

„I do…fuck.“he says quietly.

„Talk to her or text her“the dumb blonde suggests.

„Type Hey or…no type Did u get rid of ur Sleep paralysis demon?…text that“ Baji hates when his Friend tries to set him up but this time he follows his idea.

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

•One unread message for get_0

K_eisuke: Did u get rid of ur Sleep paralysis demon?

get_0:Sadly yes he jumped of my bed and left😔

K_eisuke:Thats Bad i am on my way to ur house to save u,is the Demon still in ur house?

get_0:Yes hes making noise in the Hallway

K_eisuke:Will save u:)

get_0:🥹💕

K_eisuke:🩷

2 Minutes pass

K_eisuke:I am outside.Wheres the Demon?

K_eisuke:I expect a Kiss in return for saving u💕😑

❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁•❁

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saintslewis · 1 year ago

Text

❝ 𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐘 - 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 🪩 ❞ - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!oc; Nadia

summary: most of the social media post made throughout the miami gp weekend!

warning: twitter environment (you know the deal), cussing.

saint’s team radio: hi everyone! just wanted to give y’all a little something something before releasing ‘break my soul’ ! i’m a bit sick rn but i will get back into my groove very very soon 🤭

dividers by: @cafekitsune

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽

taglist: @queenshikongo3 @mauvecherie-writes @httpsserene @lorarri @goldenalbon @yeea-nah @non-stop-imagines (lmk if you want to be tagged!)

twitter

instagram

nadiahamilton

liked by lilymhe, badgalriri and 1,383,994 others

nadiahamilton yes i know where he keeps his music and no, i won’t be telling you where 🫶🏽

view comments

nadiahamilton it was sooo nice meeting you guys this weekend 🥹

pinned by author

user i swear you’re his lucky charm

fransisca.cgomes mother ‼️

alexandrasaintmleux and if i ask for your hand in marriage?

nadiahamilton let’s run away

user i fell in love everytime you appeared on screen

user her energy is so refreshing, even if it’s through a tv or phone 😭

user where do you get your clothes???

nadiahamilton i’ll make a highlight for all the stores i shop at 🫶🏽

herstudent i hope school’s open soon, we need the tea!!

nadiahamilton you’ll be getting the pamphlets for the medieval times instead 😚

user his arm…dear lord

nadiahamilton i know, can’t believe it’s wrapped around me rn 🥹

user13 no way she just said that????

yungfilly bestie takin over miami!!

chunkz i think this is where you’re wrong brotha 🤨

niko you’re right, i’m the bestie

nellarose_ YOU’RE ALL WRONG 🤣

nataliatheedon and if i smack your ass, i’m wrong 😔

nadiahamilton bc it really hurt plus you were running behind me????

mercedesamgf1 Mrs Mercedes 🤍

user lewis is washed, never going to get that 8th

nadiahamilton watch your mouth 🙏🏽

lilymhe tinkerbell 🥹

liked by nadiahamilton

user is this a inside joke???? a fun nickname??? we need to know!

sza do you think your man will have a problem if i take you away?

nadiahamilton when and where? 🤭

lewishamilton ???????

hater ad21 was deserved 🤣

nadiahamilton i know where you live 🫶🏽

hater as if

nadiahamilton Glendale right??

hater oh shit

user now how tf did she find that man’s address 😭

user don’t question her mastery 🗣️

lewishamilton my angel 🤍

nadiahamilton my superstar 💗

lewishamilton

liked by bellahadid, charles_leclerc and 3,383,929 others

lewishamilton miami, you’ve been good 🙏🏽

view all comments

nadiahamilton steal my captions why don’t you 🙄

lewishamilton it’s my job 😋

user blonde is so her colour

raye you both are so lovely 🤍

lewishamilton thank you Raye and btw, she’s crying because of this

nadiahamilton DON’T TELL HER OMG????

spinzbeatsinc king and queen of england

nadiahamilton do you want me to get deported??

user just accept your fate guys

user now i need to know if he speaks any south african languages

nadiahamilton he tries to but he says it in a british accent so i end up laughing at him

user mr, does this mean you’re the class dad?

lewishamilton i guess so?

herstudent YEAHHH OUR DAD’S SIR LEWIS HAMILTON!!!

user her face should be trademarked

user how many cars do you think they own together?

f1wags what a woman!

user petition for Nadia to be team principal!

mercedesamgf1 we back this 🫡

hater her tattoos were everywhere and stole the attention off Lewis! She’s so ugly

nadiahamilton never that 🙏🏽

user did you guys see that drake reposted her post?

user wasn’t he friends with lewis at some point???

zendaya see you guys soon 🫶🏽

racerbia mother and father

nadiahamilton my man is so fine y’all damn

user SHE’S SO REAL FOR THIS

nadiahamilton like he looks so delectable, my goat fr 🤭

lewishamilton nads 😧

f1 mother of the paddock ‼️

nadiahamilton pls not while Susie is right there ☹️

badgalriri i hope you do know there’s a group of us planning to take her

iamcardib heard she’s a stylist, need one rn

kehlani i second this !

latto777 if she ever needs flowers, i got her ‼️

nadiahamilton y’all 🥹

lewishamilton can you guys stop planning to take my wife away from me?

user idk, something’s fishy

user yeah bc where the fuck did she come from?

text messages !

♡‧₊ billionaire boys club

miles the fencer 🤺: no way they’re stealing your wife from you in broad daylight?

pookie buddy lewis: pls don’t chat, it’s hurting my spirit rn

princess natalia: let’s talk about nads meeting pharrell (also i’m a genius for naming this gc after his company)

daniel is spinning: her face was just like 😧

nadia: 🧍🏽‍♀️

personal pillow amara: but nads, genuinely, how do you feel after this weekend? it was a big one for you bae

nadia: i do feel like ripping the earth in half and falling in but it’s cool because lew gets me ice cream after 🤭

pookie buddy lewis: i always got your back, nads. you know that. we’ll get ice cream whenever you want

miles the fencer 🤺: GET A FUCKING ROOM OMG

princess natalia: EWWWWW

charlotte (not tilbury): don’t listen to them, this is the cutest shit ever 😭

andrew with the camera: but if i expose miles’ 0.5x photos, i’m wrong.

daniel is spinning: DRAG HIMMMM

personal pillow amara: i’ve taught you way too much danny

miles the fencer 🤺: man whatever 🙄

charlotte (not tilbury): nads, i HAVE to see you in malibu

nadia: ofc, i don’t know what to expect from that place

princess natalia: don’t worry bae, we got you!

ೃ°

The Avengers (niko made this)

chunkz: nads, who’s this boy you’re chatting to? 🤨

filly felipe: “this boy” and it’s lewis hamilton 🤣

sharks: AND they’re married????

nadia: and i was going to invite you lot to my new place and show you my new car but ig you don’t want to

harry (pinero) potter: BOYS TAKE IT BACK

aj shabeeeeel: i personally never said anything 🙏🏽

niko: you know i’ve always loved f1, nads

nella loml: lying on a public platform, niko??

nadia: you lot are too funny i can’t 😭

nadia: but yeah, wanted to know when you guys are available so that you guys can meet him officially

fiily felipe: welcoming our brother in law aww 🥹

king kenny: how about we chat about the marriage??

nadia: how about no? 🫶🏽

chunkz: i’m just happy something so special is happening to you, nads. you deserve it

nella loml: it’s been a tough ride and already it’s looking so up for you bae

nadia: you guys wanna make me cry on a monday morning 🫵🏽

sharks: always the plan 🫡

niko: to make her cry????

sharks: 😐

king kenny: pls come back to London asap, Cench has been calling us up for a vid ever since the last two 😔

nadia: leave me out of that one, i have a husband 🖐🏽

chunkz: YOU TELL THEM NADS

filly felipe: nadia thandeka hamilton, it has SUCH a nice ring to it 😭

aj shabeeeel: and you guys look so leng together, already my brother in law 🫡

harry (pinero) potter: better get home quick for that debrief!

saint’s team radio (once again!): hope you guys enjoyed this one! it’s got a little touch of how nadia interacts with people she knows and people she doesn’t, our social butterfly 🥹

we finally have a ship name for our favs ‘Lewdia’ coined by @mauvecherie-writes!

i’ve got a few more smaus ready but yeah, love you guys loads! 💗

#saint writes #f1 x reader #formula one x black reader #x black fem reader #formula one x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #renaissance: the series #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x oc

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pasaatimonarkin · 1 month ago

Note

As for request, can you write something spicy with Lee Know please? (He's my bias ❤️‍🔥) Maybe a heated makeout session (?) but it's merely a suggestion, the idea is totally up to you 🤗

P.S. Always love your writings ❤️

Thank you so much love🥹💕 I loved this request and it was fun to write! I hope it catches up to your expectations🫶

Lee Minho × reader

A dare turns into a heated make out😌

Word count: 1,5k

Minho's apartment was a cozy mess of laughter and good spirits, the air thick with the aroma of spilled drinks and the faint scent of burnt popcorn. You couldn't help but feel a little nervous as you sat on the worn-out couch, your knees bumping against Hyunjin's as you both leaned over the coffee table to grab a chip. The walls were adorned with posters of bands you had only heard of in passing.

Hannah, the ever-mischievous one, had suggested a round of "truth or dare" to liven up the evening. Her eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she took a sip of her beer, swirling it around in the bottle before setting it down with a clink. "Okay, guys, I dare you and Minho to kiss," she exclaimed, her voice cutting through the noise like a knife. The room froze, and you felt your heart jump into your throat. You knew Hannah did it on purpose, because she knew there had been something between you and Minho for a while.

Minho's gaze met yours for a fraction of a second before he leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Come on, it's just a dare," Hyunjin added, nudging you playfully. You felt a warm blush spread across your cheeks, and you knew that you had to go through with it. It was either this or face the embarrassment of refusing. So, with a deep breath, you leaned in, your eyes closing as your lips met his.

The kiss was brief, a mere brush of skin against skin, but the electricity that sparked between you was undeniable. The room erupted into cheers and catcalls as you both pulled away, laughing awkwardly. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, hoping no one had noticed the sudden racing of your heart. "Alright, alright," you said, trying to keep your voice steady, "who's next?"

As Hyunjin started to ask Hannah, you nervously bit your lip and with the corner of your eye you saw Minho looking at you. The chemistry between you and him had been palpable for a while, but you had never acted on it. That quick kiss was like a match thrown into a puddle of gasoline - it had ignited something that couldn’t be easily doused. The small touch made you grave for more, but you didn't dare to confess your feelings.

The rest of the night went on with more drinks and laughter, the game continuing in a blur of truths and dares. But the atmosphere had shifted, and every time Minho was close, you could feel the tension coil around you like a tightening spring. When Hannah suggested heading to the bar, you excused yourself to the bathroom for a quick refresh. The bathroom mirror revealed your flushed cheeks and slightly swollen lips, a stark reminder of the unexpected moment that had passed between you. You took a deep breath, willing your heart to settle as you dabbed some cold water on your face and reapplied your lipstick. The door creaked and Minho was standing at the door.

Your heart skipped a beat as he leaned against the door frame, his eyes dark with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "You okay?" he murmured, his voice low and husky. You nodded, trying to play it cool, but the tremble in your voice betrayed you. "You looked like you needed a breather," he said, closing the door behind him.

The bathroom was small, and with Minho in it, it felt even smaller. The walls seemed to close in, the air growing heavier with each passing second. He took a step closer, and you could smell the faint scent of his cologne, mingling with the alcohol on his breath. Your eyes locked onto his, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappeared. Before you could say anything, he reached out and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"That was... an unexpected move from Hannah" he said, his voice a little unsteady. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken desire, until finally, you broke it with a nervous laugh. "Yeah, it was," you agreed, trying to play it off as casually as you could. But the way his thumb lingered on your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw, told you that he wasn't buying it.

He took another step closer, and you felt your body respond, leaning into his touch without conscious thought. His hand moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. The heat from his body seeped into yours, setting every nerve ending alight.

Minho's hand slid up to your neck, his thumb brushing against the pulse point where your heart hammered a frantic beat. His eyes dropped to your lips, and you could see the moment when he made his decision. He leaned in, and this time, there was no room for doubt. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and demanding. You melted into the kiss, letting go of the tension that had been building since the daring game began.

Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath under your palms. His touch grew more urgent, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head to deepen the kiss. The world outside the bathroom faded away, leaving only the two of you and the intoxicating taste of each other.

You felt your body responding in ways it never had before, and your mind raced with the sudden realization that maybe, just maybe, this was more than a drunken dare. The kiss grew hotter, your breaths coming in gasps as you both lost track of time and space.

Minho's hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulled you even closer. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers weaving through his hair as you matched his fervor. The chemistry was undeniable, and the line between friends and something more had been crossed with a fiery boldness that neither of you could ignore.

Minho pulled away slightly, panting, reasting his forehead against yours. His eyes pierced right into yours. You took a shaky breath, the coolness of the air hitting your flushed cheeks and you stared back at him. You didn't know where this was going, but you didn't want it to stop.

"I've wanted to do that for a while," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Your heart stuttered at his confession, and you felt your walls crumbling down. "Me too," you whispered back, your voice barely a breath. The words hung between you, loaded with meaning and possibility.

With a smirk that could make you melt on the spot, Minho pushed you gently but firmly against the wall, his body pressing into yours. He leaned in again, his lips finding yours with a confidence that sent a thrill through your body. This kiss was different from the first - a declaration of desire that had been simmering just beneath the surface.

As his hands roamed over your body, you felt alive in a way you hadn't in what felt like forever. His touch was a brand, leaving an imprint on your skin that you knew you would feel even after the alcohol had worn off. You responded eagerly, your own hands exploring the planes of his chest.

The kiss grew more intense, your tongues tangling together as you both gave in to the attraction that had been bubbling beneath the surface for so long. Your breaths grew ragged, and you felt your knees start to tremble.

Minho's hand trailed down to the hem of your shirt, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of your stomach, sending waves of heat through you. You gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss even further, his other hand cupping your face. The sound of your muffled moans filled the small bathroom, echoing off the tiles.

He pulled away just long enough to murmur, "You taste better than I ever thought," before his mouth claimed yours again. The words sent a jolt through you, igniting a fire that you hadn't even known was smoldering. You had imagined kisses with him before, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality of it - the way his lips felt against yours, the taste of him, the scent of his skin.

You heard Hannah shout something outside the door. The muffled sound of her voice seemed to break the spell, and you both pulled away, panting. Your eyes searched his, and the heat you found there made your stomach flip.

"I guess we should head out" you breathed out, still catching your breath. Smiling slightly at the sight of your lipstick smeared all over Minho's lips.

"I agree" Minho nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I also agree that we should continue this later" he smirked, the desire still evident in his eyes. You couldn't help but smile back, your heart racing with excitement and nerves. He opened the bathroom door and you both stepped out, trying to compose yourselves before facing your friends.

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 6 months ago

Note

Wait the lower one is from me but i don't really remember the whole details of what I've written there 😭😂 lemme dig my brain first 😔 but i remember mentioning something abt TF 141 with good smelled reader and they can't keep themselves from clinging or getting closer to reader (?)

🦈

Sharkiee 🥹 I'm lucky enough since you still remember a bit of the request! and actually I was thinking about good smelled reader these days too, but my ass get caught in my job these days 🫨 here's some hcs but I feel like there's still a lot of things I can brainrot, I'll add more to this when I can form them into words asdfghjk, as always tyvm for the ask🫡💖

Price He rarely smokes when you’re aside because it will cover your scent. Invades your personal space on the helo when you guys are heading back to base so he can bask in your smell. It’s refreshing and unlike those stinky men he says. The sleep-deprived captain got a lavender pillow from you, and he threw his old one immediately, hadn’t been so excited to end the day and sleep after years, because you used the same pillow, and your hair smells literally like it, and he relaxed lot more with it. (when you're both on leave then he will ditch it since he has you instead)

Soap Kick him into the shower before he smears his sweat on you with how much he likes to cling to you and is unable to pry off after missions. Getting called Soap is obviously unrelated to his body wash, the plain 3 in 1 one that makes you just shove your shower gel in his grasp. You know he just wants to steal yours so he can smell like you, but if you buy him the same product he’ll still snatch yours. Makes you wear his shirts so he can get it back and wear your scent like cologne around, he doesn’t care if you yell ew at him, nor he care that others might tease him for getting claimed by you, to be honest, that’s his goal. Everyone should know he’s knee-deep for you.

Gaz He smells good or at least not bad after missions, but still loves to tail after you. Maybe you two share the same perfume, but he insists that it smells different on you (bastard just want to find an excuse to squish himself against you, but the rejections always swallowed by you before they can come out, his beautiful eyes aren’t just decorations, he knows you’re weak when he looks at you with pleading eyes) Personally think that Gaz probably has some weird obsession with your nape, and when you spray your perfume there every morning, it’ll attract him like he’s a pokemon, sneak a chance to sniff and press a kiss there until you scowl at him. You put on lotions after showers to prevent dry skin? He won’t miss the chance to help you. Maybe that’s the secret you always smell so enchantingly, if you shoo him off and say you can do it yourself, he will look at you with sad eyes till you feel guilty and hand him the bottle of body lotion.

Ghost Caught him secretly sniffing around you after a mission and he didn’t talk to you the whole night out of embarrassment. He just sat on the bed and tried to intimidate you with his stare (0 damage when his cheeks were pink whenever you tease him). In the end he just gave in and admitted he loves how well you smell 24/7, and when you’re both on leave, he will drown himself in your bed sheets or the plushie you have. The plushie is his now, don’t expect to have it back unless he feels like your scent on it fades, that’s when you can squeeze it between you and him during sleep.

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rmadridcore · 1 month ago

Text

Between Us - Part 2

Pairing: Kylian Mbappé x Reader

Summary: You and Kylian have been inseparable friends for years, but when unspoken feelings bubble to the surface, everything changes.

Word Count: 3.1K

Part 1 Part 3 Epilogue

Masterlist

Author's note: I was thinking to post this today after the game but Real Madrid most likely won’t give us anything to be happy about lmao so here it is 😭 Thank you so so much to everyone who read the first part, I'm so glad you enjoyed it 🥹 Let me know what you think about this one. All the love 💕🎀 - Ellie.

——————————————————————————

Mornings used to be your favorite time when you were a kid. Waking up always meant you’d soon be seeing Kylian. You two would meet right before school and walk there together every morning, no matter the weather. While dreary Parisian Mondays weren’t particularly fun for a child, for you, they always meant another day spent with him.

But now, mornings weren’t the same. They were quiet, lonely even. You woke up alone, the excitement of seeing Kylian long gone, replaced by the daily grind of adulthood.

After getting out of bed, you stuck to your usual routine: skincare, coffee, jog. It had become your ritual, a way to fill the silence.

After slipping into your workout clothes and putting on your favorite playlist, you headed to the nearby park for a morning run. Usually, the steady rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement and the rush of fresh air helped clear your mind. But not today. Today, Kylian lingered in your thoughts, as he often did. It had been a week since that night at the gala, and the memory of nearly confessing your feelings for him still haunted you. But, like always, you had pulled yourself back at the last moment, the familiar self-control overpowering your desire.

Jogging normally helped push away intrusive thoughts, the early-morning energy a distraction from whatever was troubling you. But Kylian was different. Thoughts of him stuck like glue, impossible to shake. He had that kind of grip on people. Once you knew him, truly knew him, it was impossible not to crave his presence. He was magnetic, and the thought of losing him was unbearable. And, of course, for you, it was worse. You were in love with him — hopelessly, endlessly, in love with your best friend.

Without realizing it, you had started running faster, pushing yourself harder, as though you could outrun your feelings. Your lungs burned, and you finally stopped, collapsing onto a nearby bench, gasping for air. Sweat dripped down your forehead, your breath coming in ragged bursts. As you tried to steady yourself, you felt someone approach.

“I have to admit, I was hoping to bump into you somewhere,” a voice said, slightly breathless.

You looked up, still catching your breath. “Louis,” you smiled, surprised to see him. “Good to see you, too.”

He smiled warmly, pulling out his earphones. “I jog here almost every morning and I’ve never seen you around.”

“I used to come more often,” you explained, still breathing heavily. “Work’s been crazy lately.”

“Well, I’m glad you took the time today,” he said, and the two of you began walking together.

The conversation flowed easily, just like it had at the gala. Louis was a great conversationalist. Smooth, engaging, and polite. He knew how to ask the right questions and keep things moving without any awkward pauses, which you appreciated, since that was never your strong suit. His energy was light and refreshing, and for a brief moment, you managed to forget about Kylian.

After about 15 minutes of walking and talking, Louis’ phone rang. He glanced at the screen and then at you with a soft smile. “Looks like I have to get to work.”

As you both prepared to part ways, Louis hesitated, then asked, “Y/N, could I get your number? I’d love to meet up again with you.”

You froze for a moment, unsure. Kylian always seemed to loom over any chance you had at starting something new. How could you invest in someone else when your heart belonged so completely to him? Even when Kylian wasn’t making an effort, no one could ever make you feel what he did.

But maybe now was the time to start. Maybe Louis wasn’t the one, but at least he was a step in the right direction. You needed to try and move on. To reclaim your life, free from Kylian’s unintentional hold.

“Sure,” you said with a smile, giving Louis your number. He looked genuinely pleased, promising to text you later.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of normalcy. Work was smooth, uneventful even. Your thoughts had finally calmed down, and for the first time in a while, your mind wasn’t consumed by the ever-present tangle of emotions surrounding Kylian.

While out on your lunch break, your phone lit up with a notification:

Hey :) It’s Louis. How about dinner tonight?

You smiled at the cheeky smiley face and responded.

Dinner sounds great.

“I see that smile,” your coworker Gabriella teased, raising an eyebrow.

You chuckled. “Just a date.”

“With who?” Gabriella leaned in, curious.

You told her about Louis and the brief encounter at the gala, downplaying it but also feeling a small spark of excitement. Gabriella seemed more excited for you than you were, but you were looking forward to the evening.

By 6:45, you were finishing your hair. Your waves were soft and effortless, perfectly complementing the pale pink dress you had picked out. Minimal makeup highlighted your best features, and as you looked in the mirror, you felt a strange sense of pride. You looked beautiful, and it felt good to dress up for someone new.

With Kylian, you never had to put in any effort. He had seen you at your best and worst, from glamorous outfits to messy sweatpants. To him, you were always beautiful, and for that, you were grateful. But tonight felt different. With Louis, it was a chance to present your best self.

Sitting on the couch, you checked the time. 6:58. Louis would be here any minute. Your phone buzzed, and your heart skipped for a second, expecting a text from him. But it wasn’t Louis.

It was Kylian.

Wanna come over? I’m off early today.

Of course. Of all the nights, Kylian had to pick this one to invite you over. He always seemed to disrupt your plans, whether you liked it or not. If you rejected men for him, he’d show up. If you agreed to go out with them, he’d still find a way to remind you of his presence.

But tonight wasn’t about him. It was about you. You weren’t going to let him get in the way this time. Quickly, you replied:

Sorry, got plans tonight.

His reply came almost instantly.

Work?

You hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding it.

I’m going on a date.

For what felt like an eternity, you watched as the three dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. Kylian typed and erased his response several times, before finally leaving you on read.

You rolled your eyes in frustration. What is his problem?

Before you could dwell on it further, Louis texted that he was outside. You grabbed your things, took a deep breath, and headed out.

The car ride was smooth and easy, filled with laughter and lighthearted conversation. You found yourself relaxing, enjoying Louis’ company. He was sweet, thoughtful, and charming, and it felt nice to be on a date with someone who genuinely wanted to get to know you.

At the restaurant, Louis asked about your interests, your work, your life. He listened intently, genuinely interested in everything you had to say. It was a refreshing change from the superficial dates you’d had in the past. Louis didn’t seem like the type to act superior or dismissive. He was kind, respectful, and smart. On paper, he was perfect.

But midway through dinner, your phone buzzed again. You excused yourself, thinking it might be work, but it wasn’t.

When you’re done with your date, come over. I’m so bored at home. We could watch something. Unless you’re planning to go home with him, of course.

You stared at Kylian’s message, your irritation boiling over. Of course, he had to insert himself into your night. It was as if he couldn’t stand the idea of you spending time with someone else. You tried to remain composed in front of Louis, but inside, you were fuming.

Ignoring the text, you put your phone away and refocused on your date. Louis deserved your attention, not Kylian.

The night continued smoothly, and by the time you were back in Louis’ car, you felt a genuine connection. He walked you to your door, smiling softly as he said, “I had a really great time. Let’s do this again soon.”

“I'd love to,” you replied, your smile warm and sincere.

Louis leaned in, placing a soft, respectful kiss on your cheek before waving goodbye.

As soon as he drove off, the irritation you had buried earlier resurfaced. Kylian’s text was still on your mind, and you couldn’t let it go.

Impulsively, you called an Uber and headed to his place, convincing yourself that you needed to confront him. You told yourself that this was about setting boundaries, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. You always went back to him.

When Kylian opened the door, his expression was unreadable. He let you in without a word, his gaze following you as you walked past him.

“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” he muttered, switching off the video game that had been paused on his TV.

“Where did that text come from?” you asked, standing near the couch, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?” He looked away, clearly avoiding the real issue.

“You know exactly what I mean. You made it sound like I go home with a different guy every week. What was that about?” Your voice was sharp, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

Kylian shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then how did you mean it?” you cut him off. “You can spend your weekends with dozens of women, but I can’t go out on one date?” You sat down on the couch.

He stayed silent, knowing you had a point but unsure how to respond. Instead of continuing the argument, he sat down next to you, his head hanging slightly.

That’s when you realized — tonight was the first time Kylian hadn’t told you how beautiful you looked. He always did, whether it was necessary or not. But tonight, not a word.

As if reading your thoughts, he finally mumbled, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

His voice was quiet, almost unsure. He looked like a scolded child, his arms crossed, his lips slightly pouting.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he finally asked, his curiosity winning out.

“Louis. The guy from the charity gala.”

Kylian sighed, nodding. “Didn’t you say you thought those guys were all pretentious?”

You shrugged. “Louis is different. I like him.”

Kylian didn’t say anything, and instead, he got up and walked to the kitchen. He returned with your favorite snacks and some cookies, his way of apologizing without words.

“What should we watch tonight?” he asked, changing the subject, setting the snacks on the coffee table.

You sighed, the weight of everything pressing down on you. “You pick. I’m going to change.”

As you made your way to his closet, you found the clothes you had left there. It was all so familiar, so normal, and yet so wrong. You hated how comfortable you were in his space, knowing it was never going to be more than friendship.

You had tried over the years to keep your distance from him, to prevent yourself from getting too close. But Kylian never allowed it. He always kept you close. No matter what phase of life either of you were going through, he made an extraordinary effort to stay in touch, to never let your friendship fade. He never stopped being your best friend.

After removing your makeup and changing into sweats, you began searching for the soft, fuzzy socks you were sure you’d left here. Your feet were freezing, and only those socks were warm enough to keep you comfortable.

You checked every drawer in his closet, but found nothing. Moving into his bedroom, you opened the first drawer — still nothing. When you got to the second one, you realized it held his personal belongings: old football posters, the laces from his childhood boots, and a pinky ring his grandfather had given him when he turned sixteen. As you were about to close the drawer, something colorful caught your eye. A folded piece of paper that you instantly recognized. Carefully, you took it out and opened it, feeling your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t believe he had kept it.

It was the birthday card you made for him almost 20 years ago, back when you first went to his celebration. The card was adorably imperfect, with “Happy Birthday Kylian” written in messy six year old handwriting, random hearts and butterflies scattered all over the paper. You had drawn a little boy and girl holding hands as the boy blew out birthday candles, a clumsy but heartfelt depiction of you and Kylian as children.

Holding it in your hands, memories flooded your mind. The card brought back so much; your childhood, the simplicity of your bond back then, and the way things had slowly become more complicated over the years. You hadn’t even realized it, but tears were streaming down your face. The fact that this card, something you’d forgotten about, had meant enough to him that he’d kept it for two decades, it overwhelmed you.

You carefully placed the card back, closing the drawer as if it held a piece of your heart. Then, you hurried to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face, trying to compose yourself. As you stared at your tear-streaked reflection, the realization hit you like a truck: you loved him more than you ever dared to admit, even to yourself. It wasn’t just a fleeting crush or the remnants of childhood affection. It was deeper, more profound, so overwhelming that it felt like your entire life had been shaped around Kylian, every choice you made somehow tied to him.

That silly little birthday card, with its messy hearts and clumsy drawings, had brought a flood of memories you hadn’t even realized you still held onto. It was more than just a card, it was a symbol of the bond you’d shared since you were children, a bond you had always cherished but never truly understood until now. And the fact that Kylian had kept it, hidden away with his most treasured belongings, meant something. You knew it did. But what? Was it just nostalgia for him, a reminder of simpler times? Or did it mean more? Did it mean he held onto you the way you held onto him — silently, helplessly, and maybe, just maybe, as something more than a friend?

You splashed more cold water on your face, willing the tears to stop, but they kept falling, silently, stubbornly. The weight of your emotions was too much, and it took everything in you to steady your breathing, to stop the sobs that threatened to spill over.

The truth was hard to face: you had tried for so long to keep your distance, to protect yourself from the inevitable heartache of loving someone who could never love you back. But Kylian never let you. He always kept you close, drawing you back in whenever you tried to pull away, as if he couldn’t bear to lose you either. And that only made it harder.

You wiped your face with a towel, the cold water calming your heated skin, but inside, your heart still raced. You were coming to terms with something that terrified you. The feelings you had for him, they weren’t going away. In fact, they seemed to grow stronger every day, no matter how hard you tried to suppress them.

Falling for someone else? That was going to be a monumental task. It wasn’t just about liking someone new; it was about unlearning Kylian. Unlearning the way his laugh made you feel like everything would be okay, unlearning the way his touch sent shivers down your spine. Unlearning the years of memories that were tied to him. And honestly, the thought of letting go of Kylian felt impossible. It scared you. It scared you because no matter who came into your life, Kylian was still the one. How could you fall for someone else when your heart had already chosen?

With a deep breath, you finally calmed yourself enough to leave the bathroom. You couldn’t let Kylian see you like this, not when you didn’t even have an explanation for why you were crying. And definitely not when you weren’t ready to confront these feelings, let alone share them. But even as you composed yourself, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted inside you. Something irreversible. You couldn’t hide from your emotions anymore. You loved him, and it was destroying you.

As you walked back to the living room, you saw Kylian still lounging on the couch, casually flipping through the channels, completely unaware of the emotional storm you had just weathered in his bathroom. His easy, carefree nature contrasted so painfully with the heaviness in your heart.

You grabbed your things quickly, not wanting to linger in the space where your feelings felt too raw, too exposed.

“Hey, are you okay? What took so long?” he asked, his brows furrowing with concern.

“I’m sorry, Kylian,” you managed to say, your voice shaky. “I have to go.”

His expression immediately shifted from casual concern to confusion. “What? What happened?”

You shook your head, avoiding his gaze. “I just… I need to go home.” Kylian stood up, clearly not understanding what had changed so suddenly. He reached out, as if to stop you, but then hesitated.

“Y/N, did I do something? If I upset you earlier—” You quickly shook your head. “No, Kylian, it’s not that. You didn’t do anything. I just need to go.” You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, afraid that if you looked at him, the tears would start again.

He stood there, silent, as you hurried to the door, your heart racing with each step. You could feel his eyes on you, the weight of his concern hanging heavy in the air. But you couldn’t explain, not now. Not when you didn’t even know how to make sense of it all yourself.

As you left, he offered to give you a ride, but you declined. He walked you to the door, watching as you climbed into the Uber. His gaze didn’t leave you until the car turned the corner.

That night, as you lay in bed, wide awake, the weight of your love for Kylian pressed down on you. It was suffocating. And no matter how hard you tried to move on, no one else would ever be him.

You wished, more than anything, that next time Cupid aimed his arrow, he’d hit you both.

——————————————————————————

#kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian x reader #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe imagine #kylian imagines #kylian mbappe fanfic #kylian mbappe x you #kylian mbappe x y/n #football imagine #football player x reader #imagine #football fic

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leclercsluvs · 6 months ago

Text

CL16/DR3 | Already Over | smau

part 9 | masterlist

an: this is going to be the last part, and this is happening about a year after the last part ended. daniel is also now racing for redbull, because i want max and daniel as teammates :) pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader, daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, maxverstappen1 and 3.189.461 others yourusername guess who went and performed at coachella? it was such a nice crowd!! absolutely loved it.

danielricciardo fuck racing. i'm going to all your next live performances

yourusername not if i have anything to say >:( maxverstappen1 wow am i really that bad to be in a team with? danielricciardo i didn't want you to find out like this... maxverstappen1 guess i won't let you win the next race then 🤷 danielricciardo you don't have to let me, i will win yourusername hey hey, no fighting under my post maxverstappen1 sorry danielricciardo sorry

charles_leclerc looks beautiful

yoursister *cough cough* you aren't together *cough cough*

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, mickshcumacher and 3.357.816 others yourusername was i invited just to take photos? yeah pretty much.

georgerussell63 and you snapped the best photos ever

yourusername yeah but i'm not on any! might as well not have been there 😔

oscarpiastri you all went out???

yourusername you weren't invited??? landonorris yeah he was he was busy oscarpiastri that was a lie, i wanted you to force me landonorris i can't force you when i thought you had plans 🤨 oscarpiastri yes you can. landonorris fine i'll force you the next time

lewishamilton at least you know how to take nice photos so we don't end up with the most blurry photos of all those cool outfits

yourusername oh you mean my outfit? that's on none of these photos? because i had to take them all? lewishamilton i was, in fact, talking about my outfit. but your outfit was alright

lilymhe wow i would have loved an invite

yourusername alex didnt mention it?? lilymhe no he just said he was going out for a quick dinner with the team and then he'd be back alex_albon well it was supposed to be just the team, and then it turned into an after party with all the drivers and we sort of forgot time yourusername smh i was at the redbull dinner because daniel invited me, and kelly was there with max, why didn't you invte lily??? 🤨 alex_albon i wasn't aware we were allowed to invite more people maxverstappen1 oh i just did it, i didn't know either danielricciardo oh i was told to bring y/n

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, georgerussel63 and 3.722.261 others yourusername went on a nice well deserved vacation with some friends. refreshing tagged: yourbff, yourfriend, yoursister

yoursister thanks for finally bringing me on one of your adventures

yourusername always a pleasure to have you there to annoy me ❤️ yourbff i was, in fact, invited as the first person yourfriend LIES i was yourusername i literally invited you all in the group chat what are you talking about??? 😭

landonorris now why was i not invited AGAIN??

yourusername do you not have races to attend? landonorris oh... right oscarpiastri yeah i can't race for two people danielricciardo and i am not racing for mclaren anymore so i can't help landonorris right you ditched me for redbull danielricciardo bitch i was FIRED

charles_leclerc looking beautiful as always

scuderiaferrari

liked by charles_leclerc, yourusername and 3.722.261 others scuderiaferrari good weekend with charles on the podium. again next weekend? tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc hoping for the best next weekend, hoping to be back on the top though

y/n/n4ever soooo did anyone else see y/n in the paddock today? i swear she's his lucky charm. whenever she's there he does amazing.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 3.722.261 others yourusername my man finally got p1 in his home race. so proud of you 🥹 tagged: charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc i thought you said "not too public" 🤨

yourusername well that was before you won and before twitter spotted us charles_leclerc that makes sense

leclercs well this was a hard launch for sure

scfty/n and i'm here for it

lecswrld so so so proud of him!!

georgerussel63 congrats mate!

oscarpiastri 1-2 for the leclerc family

yourusername i'm sorry what-? charles_leclerc sorry i should have talked to you about it.. i adopted a son

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri and 3.722.261 others charles_leclerc i think i have a good luck charm yourusername we need to go on a date before every race ❤️ tagged: yourusername

yourusername invite me out whenever, i'm ready to say yes

charles_leclerc move in with me? landonorris woaahhhh yourusername maybe a bit too soon.. charles_leclerc hm i tried. i'll try again at some point.

carlossainz55 i thought me being in your team was your good luck charm 😞

charles_leclerc you were my teammate since 2021. would have thought i'd have some more wins if you were my good luck charm carlossainz55 i guess you're right

pierregasly congrats mate!!

landonorris us 🤝 ruining max's win streak

lewishamilton so deserved! proud of you!

taglist: @exotic-iris13 @callsignwidow @destinyg237 @lanadelray1989 @dullypully

#charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 #f1 smau #smau #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smau

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thelov3lybookworm · 13 days ago

Text

I Am Forever Yours (part 1)

Day 1: Gentleman

Summary: Lucien is his gentlemanly self. Of course, not without being a rake.

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1111 (lmao)

Warnings: none, just lucy being a delulu girlie 🤭

A/n: lol it wont be like my if i posted stuff that arent series for character weeks loll. happy @lucienweekofficial to all my fellow lucien simps, i love you all hehe.

(also i wouldnt say he is very gentlemanly in his thoughts, but we all know he wouldnt be 😏)

anyways, ENJOY🥹

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Lucien stood by himself against the wall nearest to the refreshment tables, quietly humming along to the rising tunes of the violins from the opposite corner, eyeing the couples twirling around the dance floor. If he cared, he would have opened a dancing class just to teach the men how to dance. If he were the one dancing with them, he would be so embarrassed.

The women though. They were the embodiment of grace, elegance and poise, so beautiful and twirling like they were born to conquer dance floors.

Alas, Lucien could not do anything to bring them justice except for cursing their partners.

With that depressing thought, Lucien moved away to set his empty glass on the table when someone bumped into him, jerking him forward and making the glass shatter as it hit the floor. Lucien looked at the broken glass, then turned away to look at the perpetrator who led to its demise, and did a double take.

Wide, frantic eyes moved to meet his after surveying the crime scene of the murdered glass, and blinked at him when he did nothing, as if she had expected to be yelled at and he had surprised her.

Her cheeks shimmered lightly under the lights emanating from the numerous chandeliers hanging from the carved ceiling, her shoulders pushed back and enhancing the look of her collar bones. Just the sight of those made Lucien swallow hard.

Who is this goddess?

While Lucien had been busy ogling the lady who clearly hailed from a high family clearly given away by her dressing, an older lady sharing the same hair and eyes appeared, glaring. "Y/n Jade, I cannot believe you would be so clumsy. Do you need to go back to school?"

Y/n?

Definitely moanable-

Fuck.

Pretty, Lucein told himself he meant to say pretty. Pretty name for a pretty lady.

The older lady turned to give Lucien an apologetic glance. "Forgive me, sir, for my daughter has begun to lose her mind." With a scathing glance at Y/n, she continued. "How are you enjoying the party? I haven’t seen you around much. Are you from this city?"

Lucien offered her a polite tilt of his lips. "Yes, though I prefer to travel. I work under my father as his emissary."

Lucien figured this lady did not know of his parentage, and he would love for it to remain that way.

"Oh, that’s wonderful."

Lucien could see the gears turning in the woman’s head, and he wished he had a glass of drink in his hands so he could hide his smirk behind the rim. Even not knowing that he was the youngest prince, everyone wanted their daughters to marry this fine specimen of a gentleman.

And why would they not, Lucien wondered. He was everything anyone could wish for, if just slightly cocky.

Not cocky. Just the slightest bit self assured.

"Well, I fear I must go hunt for my husband to make sure he isn’t making a fool out of himself. Y/n, why don’t you give your new friend some company while I search for your father?"

The lady, who by now was clear was Y/n’s mother, turned away and strode off, leaving Lucien to look at Y/n, who rolled her eyes. It amused Lucien to no end.

This was new.

"So… how old are you?" Lucien mumbled, trying to get rid of the stagnant silence between the two when it became clear that Y/n found the numerous chandeliers and the arguably bad dancers more intriguing than Lucien.

She only spared him a glance before turning her gaze towards the orchestra. "Twenty two."

"I’m twenty five."

She hummed in response.

"Your name is Y/n?"

Finally, she heaved an exasperated sigh and shot him an unamused look. "Yes, I would have assumed that was clear by now."

Lucien blinked. No one talked to him like that, even when he acted like he was one of the lowly townsfolk when he travelled to avoid attention.

"I- I’m Lucien."

"Did I ask?"

He stared at her a moment, eyes widening before dipping his head, fumbling for the first time in his life when talking to a lady. "I… I just thought-"

She snorted. "Stop thinking then."

He nodded dumbly, trying to focus on the strings of the instrument that was leading the song currently playing, the shine of his boot, the crunching glass under his toes, anything to stop himself from focusing on this lady who was thoroughly uninterested in him.

It made him want to interest her even more.

"You’re from which family?"

"Oak."

The favoured advisor of the king would be her father then.

"Y/n Jade Oak? That’s a pretty name."

"I know."

Lucien inhaled, deciding that if he wanted to get a reaction out of this ethereal creature who seemed to not know how to give any reaction other than unbothered, he would have to tell her something she wouldn’t expect. "I’m from the Vanserra’s. The king’s youngest son."

And as Lucien watched her, his eyes unwavering in hopes of catching even the tiniest bit of reaction, he almost nearly cried in joy when he spied her lips twitching at the corners.

"Look, I can do nothing about that. I’m not the one you should be complaining to. Maybe try your mother?"

It took Lucien a moment to comprehend those words, for he was too busy staring at her lips that still retained that slight tilt. And when he did, an unexpected laugh burst out of him. Once he finally got himself under control, he met her surprised eyes, and she blinked at him, as if him laughing was something that had not even crossed her mind.

"My, you’re funny." He grinned, shaking his head. "Are you by any chance engaged?"

She still watched him as she shook her head. "No. They usually decide they’re way too good for an uncultured lady like myself."

He raised a brow. "Well, as much as I want to give my condolences, I simply cannot say I’m sad for you, considering they have just made me courting you easier."

For the first time, Y/n’s composure faltered. "What?"

He offered her a lazy grin as he extended his hand to her, and after a moment of consideration, she placed hers in it. "I would like to court you. If that’s okay with you, I will like to talk to your father right away."

She searched his eyes, then dipped her head in the barest of nods. Lucien smiled, brushing his lips against her knuckles before he straightened.

"Then let’s go find your father, my lady."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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megamindsecretlair · 8 months ago

Note

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Part 2

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection.

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you.

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now.

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death.

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around.

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile.

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy.

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something.

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record.

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.”

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair.

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered.

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck.

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack.

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood.

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you.

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them.

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you.

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled.

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him.

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt.

“You heading inside?” He asked.

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ‘em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face.

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both.

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not.

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense.

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth.

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said.

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin.

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous.

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said.

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him.

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish.

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup.

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours.

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club.

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number.

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror.

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back.

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations.

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time.

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever.

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up.

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley.

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top.

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”.

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas.

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine.

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”.

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples.

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!”

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain.

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you.

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted.

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies.

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said.

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips.

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said.

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes.

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark.

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said.

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires.

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head.

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms.

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact.

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news?

“Moved up how?” You asked.

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma.

“I cannot with you,” you said.

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but.

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said.

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins.

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building.

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door.

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile.

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up.

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said.

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said.

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it.

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer.

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life.

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close.

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said.

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body.

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger.

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all.

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit.

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans.

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate.

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too.

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down.

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it.

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you.

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting.

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door.

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore.

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses.

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy.

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles.

“Hey you,” you said.

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said.

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked.

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth.

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you.

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you.

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked.

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be.

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now.

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous.

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside.

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed.

“You really do look good,” you said.

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom.

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute.

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word.

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself.

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you.

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee.

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses.

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless.

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute.

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked.

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said.

“I do not! Just answer my question!”

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams.

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it.

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear.

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes.

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room.

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up.

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it.

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway.

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started.

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free.

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then.

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers.

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this.

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here.

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said.

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to.

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth.

“Fontaine?” You asked.

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat.

“Delicious,” he said.

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat.

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you.

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction.

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back.

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone.

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything.

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera.

“Forreal this time!” You giggled.

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes.

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them.

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked.

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips.

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said.

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you.

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way.

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them.

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee.

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it.

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him.

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade.

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure.

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer.

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said.

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire.

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck.

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down.

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach.

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips.

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you.

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing.

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?”

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that.

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth.

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking.

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer.

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him.

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!”

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you.

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes.

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned.

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself.

“You-you didn’t…”

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you.

“Fuck!” You moaned.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm.

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned.

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie.

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move.

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked.

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said.

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.”

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him.

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else.

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you.

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight.

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

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