#fontaine x black reader

[sageispunk]

Drown in It (18+)

pairing: Fontaine x black! reader (1.1k words)

summary: He makes you squirt on his face. That's it.

warnings: no specific gender/size/shape mentioned, reader has a vagina, fontaine refers to reader as "ma" and "baby", cunnilingus, fingering, teasing, he bites reader once, the word 'daddy' is used once, overstimulation, squirting, multiple (2) orgasms and hint of more, kissing after head (lmk if i missed any!!)

You were laid back and spread out on the couch, eyes clamped shut and toes curled as your stomach began to tighten. Two of Fontaine’s thick fingers were deep inside you, pumping at a consistent pace to build you up to your peak. His other hand gently rested on the back of one of your thighs, keeping you folded up and open for him. “Open them eyes, ma..”

A whine escaped your throat at his words, your body felt too good to keep your eyes open but you knew better than to test him right now. You tilted your head and looked down at him, immediately enthralled by the look on his face. His eyes were dark, full of lust and intensely trained on you.

The way he stared at your soaked pussy as his fingers slid in and out put a hazy smile on your face. “Taine…” Your soft voice broke him out of the trance he was in, his eyes coming up to meet yours. He hummed in response, a teasing look beginning to spread across his face. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You opened your mouth to answer, and at the same time Fontaine crooked his fingers inside you, hitting your favorite spot. He chuckled as you choked on your words, your eyes and mouth widening in shock at his cruel teasing. His fingers began to speed up, causing you to lose your breath again, head falling back once again.

“Fuuuckkk..” That’s all you could say, over and over again, as he meticulously worked your body.

A hiss left your mouth as you felt a sharp pinch on your inner thigh, your eyes snapping back open, brows furrowed in confusion. “I told you to keep them eyes open.”

His voice was stern but slightly muffled as he pinched a bit of your thigh meat between his teeth. “Y-you bit me, you son of a–”

His fingers stilled. “And I’ll do it again if you ain’t gon’ listen.”

You pouted but complied, as best as you could. It was too good, his fingers in you, he kept you right there on the edge. Speeding up, slowing down, speeding up again, hitting that spot that was deep inside you only to back off of it again.

“Fuck, ma,” He stared at your cunt again, obviously entranced by the juices flowing out all over his hand. “So fuckin’ pretty…can I taste you, baby?”

You gathered the last bit of strength you had to nod, quickly, panting out a slow “pleaseeee,” which turned into a loud moan when you felt his tongue on your lips.

He didn’t go slow. He licked you like he was starved, maneuvering around his fingers to suck up all the wetness you had to offer him. Butterflies fluttered around in your stomach as you listened to the way he moaned and slurped into your pussy, it was one of the most debauched things you’d ever experienced.

Fontaine’s lips wrapped around your clit and he sucked, matching the rhythm he kept with his fingers. This time, you felt a stronger sensation building within your tummy. Your eyes were low and your mouth hung open as you focused on the man that was currently on his knees, eating you like his life depended on it.

“Taine, fuck, please…” Your legs shook and your hips bucked the closer you became. His grip on your thigh tightened, keeping you in place as he devoured you. “Please what?” His voice was gruff, the vibrations sending a chill through your body.

“I’m s-so close, daddy, pleaseee..” In the haze of your quickly approaching release, you didn’t even realize what you called him, but the title spurred him on. “Shit, baby, you gon’ cum for me?”

With your bottom lip between your teeth and your low and focused on him, you nodded. He quickly replaced his mouth on you, his fingers notching up to your spot, this time with no plan to slow down. Your moans and cries filled his ears as he pushed you to the edge, ready to take everything that you were willing to give him.

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh goddddd..” Your body shook, quivering above Fontaine, within his grasp. Eyes clamped shut once again, not caring if he punished you for it, you let out noises you didn’t even know you could make. He sighed into your pussy, lapping up and swallowing down your juices with fervor.

When the initial wave passed, your body relaxed a bit but only for a moment, before you realized that Fontaine wasn’t finished yet.

He continued his ministrations, ignoring your gentle shoves at his head. “Baby, please, I can’t..” Your pleasure was beginning to turn into overstimulation and you could feel another peak coming.

Fontaine growled into your folds, not letting up whatsoever. His fingers slid out of you, both hands now tightly gripping your hips as he began to pull another strong orgasm out of you with his tongue and lips. This one felt different, there was more pressure built up in your lower tummy, almost like you had to pee.

“Fuck, Taine, I can’t, I’m gonna fuckin–” A scream left your mouth as you came again, warm liquids spraying out of your pussy right into his mouth. You nearly blacked out, with your body tensing and shaking at the same time and your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Mhmm mhmmm,” He groaned, sloppily sucking up every last drop. His warm tongue slowly swiped up your folds, coming back to clit and tracing gentle circles around the swollen bud. He landed a few kisses onto your pussy, whispering little curses and praises in between.

After a few moments, you managed to gather yourself, sitting up a little and opening your eyes. In front of you sat Fontaine in his white tee, looking at you with a certain look on his face, a smirk gracing his glistening lips while your juices soaked in his beard.

“What?” You rasped out, feeling just a tiny bit self-conscious under his dark gaze. He still had you spread out in front of you, looking down at your pulsing cunt every few seconds.

Fontaine shook his head and chuckled, sitting up on his knees to get closer to you. He released his grip on your thighs, allowing you to sit up as well. “You so fuckin’ sexy,” His voice was deep, and raspy, already stirring up something deep within your tired body. “Imma have some fun witchu tonight.”

And when he put his hand on the back of your neck to bring your faces together, allowing you to taste yourself all over his lips, you knew that you were far from being done cumming for the night.

[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

✮✮✮✮

“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

✮✮✮✮

Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

✮✮✮✮

[ssaluv-a-lot]

Woke up at 2 am thinking about this…

A/N: This might be the best thing Ive ever done. 18 plussss, deadass. No Minors 💁🏽‍♀️ Grown ppl enjoy.

Oh shit…You should be home right now. You should be home in bed with your man but instead you were out and tipsy and yet the thought of Fontaine pulling up to air the place out was enough to sober you up. On wobbly legs, you carried yourself out of the club and fished your phone out your purse.

4 missed calls, 2 FaceTimes, and hella text messages. You were so fucked.

It wasn’t even a full second after you pressed the screen to call him back that you heard the bass boosted rnb coming from his Pontiac. Then it was his rumbling engine and beaming headlights that swung around the corner.

Fontaine didn’t even wait until the car was rightfully parked before he climbed out and stalked towards you, scowl permanently etched onto his features.

“Baby, i’m so fucking sorry.” You reached out for him, grabbing hold of his jacket.

He pried your hands from his jacket and grumbled a stern. “Get in the car.”

“Fontaine!” You whined, tripping over your heels to grab him again.

“Get in the fuckin car! I ain’t playin wit you!” He shouted, gripping your arm up and forcing you towards the vehicle while you continued to apologize.

He climbed into the driver’s seat with a huff as you buckled your own seatbelt.

The drive was silent and the tension thick. You knew that once you got home, he would be on you about staying out late, getting drunk without a ride. The whole nine yards on safety.

You didn’t even need to mention the fact that every one knew you were his girl and that so much as a flirty comment would get them in big trouble.

The car rumbled to a stop in front of your home and a heavy sigh released itself from Fontaine’s chest.

“When we get in that house, ion wanna hear shit about how sorry you are. Ion give a fuck. You get your ass up to that room and wait.”

You nodded your head as a shiver tingled at your spine. Then, his rough hand was gripping your cheeks, tilting your head every which way.

“Nobody touched you up in there right? You ain’t hurt?” He loosened his grip as it seemed you went untouched as long as you were out.

“No..” A smile crept across your glossy lips as you realized he wasn’t really mad at you, just worried since you didn’t answer his calls

“Don’t lie to me just cause you think I’m already pissed.”

“No, Fontaine. Nobody did anything. I just danced and shit.”

The man sucked his teeth as he climbed out of the car, going around the front to open your door.

Once inside the house, you wasted no time getting up stairs and sitting on the bed as his heavy foot steps followed.

“Strip outta them clothes.” He ordered as the bedroom door clicked shut behind him and he kicked off his shoes.

You scrambled out of your top, tossing it somewhere. Out of your bra, tossing it someplace else. And then, you fumbled with your skirt before it pooled at your feet, leaving you in your panties, looking up at him as he loomed over you.

“Now how come when you think you getting some dick, you can listen to me but when I tell you to come home before midnight, you ain��t got a damn clue?”

“I-“ The words got stuck in your throat as he aired you out.

“Hm.” Fontaine scoffed, shrugging off his bomber and pulling his hoodie over his head, leaving him in his gold chain and a pair of low hanging sweats. “Hands and knees.”

“Fontaine!” You whined. “Please?”

“Nah come on. Don’t make me fix you my self.”

You huffed as you turned yourself into the position and pressed your body into the sheets. The impact came almost instant, the burning sting as he cracked a palm to your right ass cheek.

Your eyes squeezed shut as a yelp caught in your throat. Another resounding smack to your ass as he mumbled to himself. Something about you tripping and acting like you ain’t know better.

His monologue must’ve really started to piss him off because the next impact of his calloused hands had you gripping the sheets as a squeal released from your mouth.

“M sorry, Taine..” You mumbled, turning your head to look back at him as he stroked your burning skin.

“Mhmm.” Another crack of his palm against and then he was pulling at your panties, tugging them down to the fold of your knees as a finger slipped between your legs and through your slickened folds. “All that complaining and you wet any damn way.”

Your brows knitted together as he swiped his fingers across your pussy, brushing your clit and circling your entrance, then back up to your clit to rub firm circles into the bud.

“Fontaine..” It came out breathy and pleading as you relished in the pressure being released. “Fuck..feels good.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, squatting down to get a better look at your actively sopping pussy, wet and waiting to be filled.

The sight was marveling, almost making him forget what he was supposed to be doing. Your whimpers were music to him as he drew them out of you with rougher circles to your clit.

He brought his mouth to your ass, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin as you squirmed against him.

“F-fuck..baby! I’m close!” Your jaw dropped as the knot in your belly tightened up. You arched into the bed, ready for it to hit you any second.

At the last moment, Fontaine withdrew his fingers with a dark groan, leaving you squirming and pushing your ass back against him for more.

As the realization dawned, tears pricked your eyes.

“No! Daddy please! I-I wanna come!”

“You gonna wait. Just like you made me wait up for you.” He pressed another kiss to your ass and raised to his feet.

“But-“ Your words were cut as he wrapped a hand around the front of your neck and pulled you up to rest on your knees. His lips slotted against yours, his tongue dipping in and invading your mouth sloppily.

His grip on your neck tightened as he took your plump bottom lip between his gold teeth with a growl. “You know I love you right?”

“Yeah. Love you too,” Fontaine released your neck and you could hear the fabric of his sweats as he tugged them down along with his boxers, letting his hard erection spring free.

He pressed a hand to the small of your back, creating an arch that propped your ass up just how he liked it. Carefully, he dragged his blunt tip across your wet folds, tapping it against your clit until you shuddered and your toes curled in anticipation.

He pushed into your clenching center with a groan as he adjusted his hands to your hips and your face dropped into the pillow. “Fuck..” Fontaine tugged his sweats a little lower as you mewled into your pillows.

His thrusts started slow, drawing out to the tip and easing in to his hips until he was coated in your arousal. “You good?” He asked, fully sheathed.

“Uh huh.” You spared him a weak nod and he took that as his go ahead, catching a rhythm as he drilled into you.

His nails digging into your hips so you didn’t try to run. Your mouth permanently slack jawed as he hit that spot that made you see stars.

“Must’ve been out ya mind, baby.” Fontaine huffed. “Making me have to drive up there like that..”

“Ooh daddy..” You threw your ass back to meet his hips with eagerness, your orgasm crawling up your spine and making your head a little foggy.

“Mhmm. Ignoring my fuckin calls.” He cracked a palm against your ass, making you yelp and push back into him.

The dull smack of your skins colliding as he drove his dick into your greedy pussy was all you could hear. All the shit he was talking went in deaf ears.

“Fuck, Fontaine! Shiiit!” Your eyes rolled back as your orgasm rolled over you, your hands turning pale as you gripped the sheets tightly.

“That’s it.” He kept fucking you through it, not letting up no matter how much you whined about it being too much. “Keep taking that dick..”

A sticky white ring formed around the base of his cock, making the already slippery task of staying inside you, that much harder.

“I got half a mind to never let you out again..”

“Mmm..no, wait.” You whispered as he angled his thrusts to brush against your spot again. You felt yourself building up again, only the pressure felt heavier and much stronger. “F-Fontaine!”

You attempted to press a hand to his abdomen to slow his thrusts and allow you a minute to relax but your shaky hand was slapped away.

“Actin like you ain’t got no fuckin sense.” He pressed into your back a little harder, angled his hips deeper. “I feel that shit. You gonna soak me baby?”

“I-I Ahh!” Your pussy clenched him tight, keeping him right where he was as you squirted onto the sheets with a scream. Your legs shivering and body shaking as he marveled at the sight.

“Fuuck.” He pulled out of you with a soft smile, rubbing his wet dick through your swollen folds, spreading the substance across your thighs. “You trynna do that again?”

[8ttached]

pretty laced dress

pairings - fontaine x blk woman

warnings - 18+ smut minors dni!! bathroom + mirror sex, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, not proof read, aave mentioned in story.

word count - 830

a/n: hey guys!! i just wanna say thank you for 100+ followers?! i feel so honored to have so many people enjoy my writing thank you thank youu!! im trying to ease my way back to being more active on this account and having you guys know a little more about me but just know my reqs are definitely open right now so help a sister out with recommending some writing prompts (smut or not id be glad to write them) but dont hold it over my head i still have a life yall (T0T)

summary: it's your anniversary night with Fontaine and as you guys are getting ready to hit the road, your boyfriend couldn't get enough of the black lacy dress you slipped on. after seeing your boyfriend get needier by the minute he realizes you two have a little time to spare.

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!!)

“Hey baby, can you help me with this dress?” 

Today marked your 2nd year anniversary with fontaine and what better way to celebrate than a nice dinner between the two of you. This was your second time trying on this dress. the black, thin, tight dress that complimented you in every way. From your deep skin tone to your delicate curves, that dress had your name written all over it. There was one problem though, the zipper. The cheap zipper on the back of your dress. Not only was it hard to zip up yourself, but when you tired, the zipper would never budge. Which is why you called fontaine into the shared bathroom

You were too focused on the zipper to notice your observant boyfriend standing by the door, quietly admiring you from head to toes. By time you got impatient you turned to the door getting ready to yell out for him again only to get startled by the tall, male figure leaning on the door frame. 

“Holy shit Fontaine don't scare me like that!” your freshly done nails laid on your chest while you catch your breath. “My bad ma, whatchu need help with?” Fontaine asks, his hands slowly wondering on your hips. “Can you zip the zipper in the back?” ignoring your boyfriend's rough hands wondering from your hips up to your waist. “Mhm” he lightly nods, his hand not leaving your waist. The zipper started from the bottom to the middle of your back and Fontaine loved it. He loved how well it complemented you. Your glistening, defined back, the gold necklace clasp that hung down the back of your neck, he loved Everything. Sure, he was quiet, but his thoughts were sure loud as hell and It took everything in him not to blow your back out right then and there.

He took his time zipping up your dress, admiring what everyone else wanted but definitely couldn't have. He hums quietly. “You so beautiful baby.” you cheese at the compliment. “Thank you baby.” you smile looking towards him through the mirror, noticing his eyes glued on your back. “I could blow your back out right now.” he whispers in his raspy voice. You gasp. “Fontaine!” you yell out. “what, I can't admire you right now..” he trails off as he gets distracted. He observed how your dress hugged your curves, how it shaped your ass perfectly. He really could stare at you for hours. “Ya think we got a lil' time to spare?” you feel his warm breath on the crook of your neck before you feel light kisses from his thick dark lips. The only thing he did was breathe on your neck and already he has your ass under his spell. You take a deep breath eagerly nodding your head. “Uh huh.. but we have to be quick” You take a deep sigh. 

“Then lemme not take this time for granted.” you feel his light grin against your sensitive neck

There you were, bent over the bathroom sink getting your pussy eaten by the starved man behind you. The bathroom was filled with muffled moans and high-pitched whimpers. “fuck taine!” your spread legs caused the dress to stretch from the floor. “Mhm, my perfect lady, you’re so sexy” Fontaine mumbles against your soaked pussy as he grips your ass tightly earning a shaken hum from you.  “Mm- I'm gonna-”

“Mhm, There you go, let it out, baby.” 

his vibrated praise sends you through your 1st orgasm. after what felt like only minutes you were losing your mind. From the Hickeys and bite marks all over your neck and collar bone, your ass stinging from each smack and passionate grip, to your man eating your sloppy pussy as if he hasn't eaten in days. all of it was becoming overwhelming. “t-too much taine please..” you whimper as you grip the bathroom counter, desperate for support. Throughout the orgasms you’ve given out, he didn't let you catch a break, let alone your breath.

 “Mm mm, i know you can take a baby, i know you can.” he slips his middle and ring finger inside your sloppy cunt. 

Everything felt intense but so good. Everything Fontaine was saying was going out one ear and right out the other until you felt a smack against your ass.

“Taine- gonna cum again!” you yelled out. Arching your back, pleading for more. 

“Thats right ma, let it all out mhm i got you” 

was all you could hear before you clashed into yet another orgasm.

the ringer on your phone interrupted causing you to fall back into consciousness. “Just in time” Fontaine whispers as he pulls your lacy black panties back up and your dress back down over your ass. You look up at the mirror noticing his obvious boner in his pants. “Wait, taine what about-”

“i can wait till later tonight” he kisses your temple, grinning at you. 

“Now fix ya self up, we gon be late.” and so you did.

[mcondance]

“fontaine is a brat tamer” no he’s not he’s a brat pleaser. a little. . too much of a pleaser. cw slapping, overstim

at first, you think he’s just giving you what you want. bending you over and fucking you like you’ve been acting up just to get. and he is giving you what you want.

but as your climaxes start racking up and the pleasure starts to sting, it’s a vain push and a “uh uh, n’more” from your messy lips, two things that fontaine shrugs away— your hands flattened to your chest and your words disregarded.

“uh uh,” you shake your head when he starts to rut into you again, like you haven’t cum so much it’s running down your thighs, like your chest isn’t heavy with it, like he can’t hear how sloppy everything is.

“this what you wanted, huh? what you was actin’ a fool for.” you don’t answer, too focused on his hips meeting yours, on his hands squeezing your waist so hard you know he’s bruising, on the deep groans and moans he sends right into your ear . . and he ain’t having that shit. “huh?” he asks again, bottoming out inside you, grinding his hips around so he kisses that spot so hard you have to gasp a breath out before you can even try to speak.

“shitshitshit, i can’t-” you squirm, pushing against him again.

“uh uh, ain’ tryna hear that shit. you gon’ take what you wanted,” he mumbles, and he’s humming at the way your weak arms come to circle around him, nails scratching at his back for some form of relief.

“we gotta do this every time ma?” he’s deep now, pulling out just to sliiide right back in and you swear you feel him in your throat, his cock splitting you open so good that you do feel it in your stomach.

“you can’t just use that mouth ‘n tell me you want it? you know i’ll give it to you.” it’s purred into your ear, and he’s wiping the tears from your face with one hand, settling into his knees so he can drive his hips onto you a little stronger.

your response isn’t a response at all— a high-pitched moan and your grip on him gets tighter, eyes rolling back until all you see is white, and that’s where you stay for a second; in a state of. . whatever this is, spaced out and experiencing everything through a fog.

until fontaine’s hand grips your face, tapping once, twice, three times to get you back here, to make you take what it is you all but begged for.

“nah, baby, you gon’ feel this. it’s what you wanted, ain’ it?”

and it is what you wanted. and it’s what you get. by the time fontaine feels like he’s fucked and filled you good enough, you’re so out of it you couldn’t act up if you wanted to, and fontaine’s wiping you down with a wet rag and tending to you softly.

“know you gon act up again. but it’s aight cause imma take care of you every time.” he already knows; and he doesn’t miss the blissed out little smile you crack.

[hobies-princealbert]

Head Empty. Thinking about high!plug!fontaine n high!reader. He’d def be the plug that flirts with her and gives her deals and one day he asks her to smoke wit him for free and they just start making out in his car listening to music. 😱😱😱

gurl the new pfp frightened me a bit ngl 💀💀

but coming right up! i took some creative liberties cuz i kinda forgot to double check what your ask said. im srry its just once i got that ball rolling, i couldn't stoppp ( ´,_ゝ`)

plug! fontaine x high! reader | (the nsfw is below the cutting off)

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♤ taine wasn't exactly your first choice for a plug. he was a well known dealer in the glen, but the things he was known for made you hesitant. he was a no nonsense type dealer, he gives a price, you pay on time. if you can't do as simple as that then you wasting his time. and knowing you were tight on money sometimes, you decided it best to stick to the plugs you knew.

♤ but twelve wack ass joints later, you found yourself sitting in a certain green cadillac that you never thought you'd set foot in. both of you sat in silence for a few seconds, only a few feet away from each other.

♤ you patiently watched as he tried to light his spliff with the faulty lighter. growing more frustrated, he soon tossed the lighter onto the dash, then turned to you expectantly. and as if you could read his mind, you pulled your lighter and held it up for him to take.

♤ he stared at you for a bit, you felt as if you body was on fire. he had a pair of the scariest eyes you've ever seen. and he kept those eyes on you the entire time. not once looking away.

♤ you felt him wrap around your wrists. he pulled your hands closer to his face. your entire body became solid rock. all you could hear was your heart beating in your ears. the grip on your wrists were slack, giving you enough leeway to pull back if you wanted to. but something about the way he looked at you, made you stay still for him.

♤ he motioned for you to light the joint. you obliged. the orange glow of the flame made his eyes even more sinister. god he's terrifying. hot but, terrifyingly hot. once it was lit, he leaned back and let your wrist fall from his grasp. he took two puffs before he passed it over. " 'ere. take it. ' tell me if 'sgood enough."

♤ your breath was shaky as you inhaled the smoke. it was strong, definitely would get you fucked up in less than a minute. you handed it back to him. "you barely took tha' shi'. come 'ere."

♤ he placed the blunt back between his lips, as he settles one of his hands behind your head. "was he gonna gimme a shotgun right now. he's not....is he?" you let your brain rambled for bit till a low "open" brought you back.

♤ taine never does this, especially with cilents. but he took an interest in you. you seemed nervous, unlike most of his clients that just want their quick fix. and it helps that you weren't bad looking either. kinda cute in fact.

♤ but that didn't mean he wasn't fed up from watching your pretty little lips not taking his blunt properly. that shit ain't cheap. but you took the shot gun gave you pretty well. he saw how the smoke made your eyes a little teary, so he wiped a couple away before he let you go.

♤ you stared at him for a bit. he found you amusing that's for sure. and while he was trying to subside a smirk, you were trying to calm the ache between your legs. god you needed to get out this car before you did something you regret. but would you regret it? from the way his pants seemed to be stiffening, he probably felt the same way.

♤ reaching into his jacket he pulled a small plastic baggy,,that looked to contain at least 5 grams. your eyes went wide. this was way more than the agreed amount, that's at least $45 bucks, you didn't have that much on you. shit shit shit.

♤ "easy ma, this one's on the house" and with that you became one of his regulars. and his favorite at that.

♤ of course you became his favorite. i mean he'd never let a customer come over his house. much less one sit on his couch, smoke his blunt and watch a show on his tv.

♤ he certainly wouldn't let a customer stretch their legs across his lap either. or let one inch closer to him than appropriate, to the point where they made it onto his lap. he didnt mind, it definitely did help him relieve the ache between his legs. and he wasn't opposed to the way you let him kiss alongside your jaw, and even suck a couple marks into your skin.

♤ no regular of his ever let him pull down their shorts and toss them to god knows where. he's never gotten on his knees and licked a fat stripe along over their panties. never has he had to pull said panties to the side just so he could finally get a good look at how at your cunt.

♤ you were the only one who's clit he's mouthed at till his jaw ached. he didn't stop till he had to wrap his hands around your hips to hold you still.

♤ never once as taine let a regular, eagerly lick his precum from the slit to the point where he'd lull his head back everytime he felt their tongue dip into his slit. or had one force his cock into their mouth till the tip hit the back of their throat. and they stayed deepthroating him till he finally released. or had one lick up every last drop of cum that could find. no matter if it some was on his stomach, chest, thigh or on their face. he's never given a regular a couple puffs of his joint as a reward for sucking him to completion.

♤ he wondered if his weed made you like this. was it so good that it made you do your best to take him to the hilt, even though you could barely take a proper breath. probably it was the reason he'd take a minute or two cause the way your walls squeezed him, he swore he was gonna cum inside you right then and there.

♤ was his shit so good that it made you cry out his name and claw at his back with every thrust. had him having to slap your tits whenever you looked too far gone. make him tell you to how good you were, or that from the way your walls started to push him out, you were close. make him coo at you whenever you finally came, so you knew how proud he was. maybe it was why you bared the overwhelming sensation that your release brought so he could reach his edge. maybe that what made you mumbled about him cumming inside you.

♤ tempting but he preferred to release on your cunt so you could reach your hand down and desperately collect his droplets into your mouth. god he loved when you did that. he especially when you parted your slit so he could get one last lick before he let you suck it off his tongue.

♤ never had he had a regular make him feel that good to the point he gave them free weed.

[wakandas-vibranium]

Double Date

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, 18+ content, minors DNI, oral(f+m receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink, rough sex

Word count: 5k

Summary: Your coworker Yo-Yo is playing matchmaker and asked you to accompany her roommate on a double date.

A/N: Let’s get it started with these TCT fics!! If y’all writing ‘em, please tag me so I can read ‘em!! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You finished getting dressed, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and smiled at how gorgeous you looked, so you grabbed your cell phone and purse and made your way downstairs to meet your Lyft driver. You couldn't wait for your automobile to be repaired because you loathed having to rely on others for transportation.

You were talking to your coworker Yo-Yo earlier this week about how you were touch starved and eager to jump back into the dating scene. Even though you had only worked with Yo-Yo for a little over four months, you had already come to think of her as a close friend. She just moved to Memphis not too long ago. 

Yo-Yo asked you on a double date with her and her boyfriend, claiming that Fontaine, her roommate, was the ideal man for you. 

You've seen Fontaine pick Yo-Yo up from work numerous times and have seen him drive that green car of his around town a few times, but you've never had the chance to actually talk to him. He always seemed to have a lot on his mind, but he was fine as hell, so of course you agreed to the double date. 

You suggested Melvin's, which was one of the few black-owned pubs in the neighborhood. They had delicious, mouthwatering food and a dance floor that never stayed vacant. 

Fontaine didn't appear to be the dancing type, which was fine by you. You just hoped that he would like you enough to bring you back home and fuck your brains out. It had been exactly 14 months, 12 weeks, 11 days, 13 hours, 22 minutes and 57 seconds since you had any kind of dick.

It was time.

Your Lyft driver pulled up in front of you at a quarter to eight, which was perfect because y'all had agreed to meet there at eight and it was only a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

"Lyft for Y/N?" said the older gentleman as he rolled down the passenger window.

You nodded at him, and he quickly stepped out to open the rear door for you, saying, "You lookin' good, young lady!" 

You smiled at him before ducking into the backseat, "Thank you."

Before you knew it, you were parked in front of Melvin's. A nervous chill swept over you. It had been a good lil minute since you've dated. You were rusty and willed yourself not to fuck up tonight.

Once you strutted inside, you spotted the three of them almost immediately. They were all in deep conversation and didn't notice you walk in. They picked a good table to sit at. One close to the bar and dance floor. It was a Thursday night, so it wasn't too packed, but it had a nice lil crowd. 

You tucked your phone inside your clutch, took a deep breath, and strolled confidently over to their table. 

All three of them turned their heads towards you as you neared the table. Yo-Yo beamed brightly at you and waved you over. Her boyfriend's eyes widened, and he mumbled something you couldn't hear, but it must have been inappropriate because Yo-Yo kicked him under the table. 

Fontaine raised his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. The flash of his gold teeth almost made your knees go weak, but you kept walking. You were a sucker for niggas with grills.

Yo-Yo’s man and Fontaine were on the same side of the booth. Yo-Yo was sitting across from her boyfriend, and the empty spot in front of Fontaine was reserved for you.

Yo-Yo stood up and hugged you tightly, "You look finer than a motherfucka!" 

You giggled, squeezing her back just as tightly, "Thank you girl! You look amazing too!" 

She broke the hug and motioned to the two men, "This is my man, Slick Charles, and this is Fontaine." She motioned for you to slide into the booth first, “And this is my coworker and friend Y/N." 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Slick Charles greeted as he held out his hand. You shook his hand before scooching over into the booth. 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/N,” Fontaine said as he extended his hand, “I’m Fontaine.” 

You placed your hand in his large palm, brown eyes locking with his brown eyes and smiled softly at him, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Fontaine.” 

He squeezed your hand, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. Under his intense gaze, you could feel your cheeks heating up. 

Were you really so touch-deprived that a simple handshake and eye contact were enough to make your black ass blush?

The server came over and greeted everybody warmly, saying, "Welcome to Melvin's. What drinks can I get started on for y'all?"

Yo-Yo ordered first, “I’ll have a Manhattan.” 

Then Slick Charles, “Yeah I’ll take a vodka cranberry with a splash of orange juice.” 

The waiter turned to you expectantly and you ordered, “A whiskey sour, please.” 

Fontaine ordered last, “Just a double shot of whiskey for me.”

“And did you want that neat or on the rocks?” 

“Neat.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” 

“So,” you started as you watched the waiter walk off, “How are y’all liking Memphis so far?”

“I’m really enjoying it,” Yo-Yo chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Slick Charles agreed, “It’s a nice change from the Glen.”

“I like it here,” Fontaine added, “I like being in a place where not too many niggas know me.” 

“Well I’m glad y’all came to Memphis,” you admitted, smiling warmly at them. 

The waiter returned with your drinks and took your orders before walking away. 

“Slick, let's hit the dance floor while we wait for our food.” Yo-Yo said as she did a little dance at the table. 

“I ain’t got on my dancing shoes to—“

“—Nigga, get yo ass up and let’s dance.”

“I know we retired and all but I’m still—“ Slick Charles was cut off by Yo-Yo yanking him up and to the dance floor. 

“Are they always like that?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you watched Yo-Yo drag Slick Charles all the way to the dance floor.

“Pretty much,” Fontaine nodded, never taking his eyes off you, “How long you been in Memphis?”

“All my life.”

“You ain’t ever think about movin’ somewhere else?”

“Nah, not really,” you shrugged, “All my family is here, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it.” 

You were surprised by how effortlessly the conversation flowed. You could talk to him for hours and never get tired of listening to his alluring voice. You were curious about the noises he made while he was balls deep in some pussy. You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull your thoughts out of the gutter. It didn't work.

“You been in a lot of relationships?” You asked, taking another swig of your drink. 

“Nah, I ain’t really have too many shawtys back in the Glen.” 

“Hmm, so you haven’t come across any Memphis women that caught your attention?”

“You caught my eye,” he stated, catching you off guard. 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’mma keep it real with you, Fontaine,” you said as you looked him straight in the eye, “I want you really bad.” 

“Shit then we on the same page,” he acknowledged, downing the rest of his drink. “So you comin’ back with me tonight?” 

You nodded, “I just have one condition though.” 

“And what’s that?” Fontaine questioned as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. 

You leaned across the table and motioned for him to come closer. When he was close enough to your liking you whispered, “You have to keep the grills on while you eat my pussy.” 

His brown eyes darkened with desire and a hint of mischief at your request. As your tongue glided across your bottom lip, his gaze drifted to your mouth. 

The sexual tension was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife.

“I can do that.” 

You inched closer to each other, your gaze never leaving the other's. From this close range, you could see that his pupils were dilated. You were positive that yours most likely were too. 

“Yeah? You promise?” The corners of your mouth couldn’t help but turn up into an infectious grin at the electric look he gave you.

“Promise.”

He closed what little distance was left between you and kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back with a quickness. Under his facial hair, his full lips were soft against yours and tasted of whiskey. 

The bustling noise of the forks scraping plates, the chatter of the other customers, and the thump of feet on the dance floor all faded away for a brief moment.

You rested your hands on his broad shoulders as he deepened the kiss, letting out a soft moan as his tongue brushed against yours. His hand was wrapped around your lower arm, softly caressing your brown skin. 

You got a little carried away as you slid your hands to the sides of his neck and gently tugged at his lower lip. The low grunt of surprise that he let out caused your clit to throb, and your nipples to harden. He didn't try to pull away from you though. He held both of your arms now and squeezed them tighter as his kisses became more heated.

You were seconds away from saying fuck it and pulling him into a bathroom stall, but you refrained. You had to maintain some type of decorum.

“Ahhh sookie sookie now!” Slick Charles chuckled as he made his way back to the table.

“Y’all niggas need to get a room,” Yo-Yo teased as she plopped down next to you. 

“These motherfuckas,” Fontaine grumbled as he pulled away. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you noticed that some other patrons were staring at you. You ignored them and focused your attention on Yo-Yo and Slick Charles, both of whom were smirking at you and Fontaine.

You were too turned on to be embarrassed, and fortunately, the waiter was on his way over with everyone's food.

The food was delicious as always, and the evening was going exceptionally well. Slick Charles was telling you how he met Yo-Yo, but you were zoning in and out. 

Every time you locked eyes with Fontaine, you squirmed in your seat a little. There was something in his fierce gaze that promised you a night of passion. 

You were so turned on that you couldn't even finish your food. You just ordered another whiskey sour and sipped on that until the others were finished and ready to leave.

The drive back to their place was smooth and just a vibe. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sang along to the 90's R&B that played softly on the radio in the backseat, and you joined them a few times.

Fontaine sat in a comfortable silence, driving with one hand because his right hand was spread out over your thigh. When he would stop at a red light, he would squeeze it or rub it with his fingers. All the while not taking his eyes off the road, driving you insane, and making you wet for him. He had to know what he was doing to you. 

They lived in a pretty nice apartment complex. It wasn't too far from yours. Once Fontaine parked, you got out of the car and walked ahead with Yo-Yo, arm in arm.

You were elated that they lived on the first floor because your feet were killing you. Yo-Yo unlocked the door and you followed her inside. She pulled you through the apartment to the kitchen, handing you a bottle of water after she closed the fridge. 

You and she gushed over how great tonight turned out to be and how you both had naughty plans for your men.

A couple of minutes later, the fellas entered the apartment. Slick Charles called for Yo-Yo, who winked at you and gave you a thumbs up before exiting the kitchen.

You were halfway done with your water when Fontaine found you leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he greeted.  

“Hi,” you replied, shooting him a warm smile. 

He pointed to the hallway, “My room is the last room on the left. I’ll meet you there in a min.” 

You nodded as you watched him shuffle out of the kitchen. You gulped down the last bit of your water and threw away the bottle before leaving the kitchen in search of his bedroom.

You found his room with ease, passing Fontaine, Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. The door was already open, so you headed in, not bothering to flip on the light because the tiny lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room plenty for you to see.

“Slick, what the fuck we gon’ do with glow in the dark condoms?” you heard Fontaine question from the other bedroom. You laughed to yourself. You weren’t completely against those types of condoms. 

Slick Charles went on about Fontaine being boring and how he needed to have some fun. You tuned him out as you took off your heels, sighing in relief while you walked around Fontaine’s room. 

You checked your phone to make sure there were no missed calls or texts before slipping it back in your purse. You placed your clutch on his dresser and checked yourself out in the mirror while you waited for him. You looked like a snack and you were definitely ready to be ate! 

Fontaine strolled into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. You turned around to look at him. He held up a gold-colored foil packet and asked, “You ain't allergic to latex, right?" 

"Nah, I'm not allergic,” you assured him.

"Cool," he said as he pocketed the rubber and took his shoes and socks off, kicking them to the side before pulling you in by the waist and kissing you instantly. 

You kissed him back, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck. His hands ventured down to your ass, squeezing it tight as he deepened the kiss. He swallowed your soft moans, licking into your hot mouth as he backed you into the dresser.

“Now I told yo ass to slow down before you injure a nigga’s back!” Slick Charles shouted through the walls. Yo-Yo said something back but you couldn’t make out what she had said. 

He broke the kiss, panting lightly as you both stared at each other for several seconds before he shook his head and you let out a giggle. Those two had to be the strangest and funniest couple you’d ever met. 

You felt his hardness against your thigh and you rubbed it. Damn, he was huge. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stretching your walls.

“You ready for Daddy to eat that pussy?” he asked as he took a step back, looking you up and down. 

Was the sky blue? Hell yeah, you were. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you pulled your dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor. He watched you undress with hungry eyes, palming his erection. Once you took off your bra and panties you sauntered over to the bed, sitting down slowly before spreading your legs. 

He yanked off his shirt, revealing his large chest and broad shoulders, throwing it on the floor with your pile of clothes. He followed you up the bed, pulling on your legs to bring you closer to his face. 

“Damn shawty,” Fontaine murmured as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, licking his lips at the captivating way your pussy glimmered in his dimly lit room. “All for me, huh?”

"All for you, Daddy," you sighed deeply in anticipation as you felt his breath on your sensitive cunt. His nose brushed against your clit, causing your thighs to tremble slightly.

Leaning on his forearms, his large hands rested atop your lower belly as he licked a warm stripe from your wet slit all the way to your clit, flicking it twice before closing his mouth around it. You could already tell that you wouldn’t last long.

“You taste good as fuck,” he praised, dipping his tongue into your hole, tasting your fresh juices. He slid his finger in, stretching you slowly as he licked around your clit, strong tongue pushing you closer to the edge. 

"Oooh just like that," you held the back of his head, moaning loudly, "Don't stop."

Your back arched off the bed, bringing your pussy closer to his talented mouth. Your thighs began to shake as your climax loomed. The sheer pleasure was almost too much for you. You tried to force your thighs closed, but Fontaine's hand pinned you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You inhaled sharply and sank back against the pillows as he inserted a second finger, pumping you faster.

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned even louder. 

He softly nibbled your clit, and the coolness of his golds was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge.

“I can feel it,” he moaned against your sensitive bud, slurping up all your juices, “Let it all out for Daddy.” 

His filthy words and the calculated flicks of his tongue had your mind whirling and your heart pounding. Every mind-boggling wave of bliss flooded through your veins, causing you to shiver uncontrollably as you tugged on his locs. At the moment, you couldn't form any words. All you could do was pant harshly and let out all kinds of obscene noises.

When he finally felt your body go limp, he pulled off your clit and eased his fingers out of you. Fontaine planted a few soothing kisses on your thighs before sitting up.

Your eyes were still closed, and your breaths were finally slowing, but you could feel his eyes on you and hear him sucking his fingers.

You peeked through one eye and found him kneeling over you, completely naked now, stroking his massive dick as he watched you with a mischief glint in his dark eyes. 

“I see you smirkin’, nigga,” you blurted, pointing at him as you glowed blissfully.

He tried to cover his smile but you saw it anyway. He playfully smacked your hand and said, “I was just tryna make sure you wasn’t ‘bout to pass out on a nigga.” 

“Yeah, yeah..”

He continued to stroke his dick as he lay on his back beside you. You turned your head to the side to get a better look, and your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Come taste this dick," he commanded as he watched you ogle it.

You sat up on your knees and leaned forward, taking it in both your hands. He had to have been eight or nine inches in length and was very girthy; his dick curved to the left too. It had been a while since you gave head, but you were determined to make him feel good. 

You wrapped your lips around the tip. It was warm and velvety against your tongue. You let the soft feel of Fontaine's dick run over your tongue, relishing the taste as you took him down as far as you could go, breathing through your nose. He hissed lowly as the wet heat of your mouth engulfed him. 

You licked a wet stripe up and down the length of his shaft before rising up to close your lips around the crown, stroking the rest of his rod swiftly. 

You glimpsed up at Fontaine through your eyelashes. The heated stare he gave you was enough to make you feel lightheaded. His golds flashed at you as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. The sight had you dripping for him.

He moaned your name, stretching out his legs as he cupped the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, drawing out a long groan from him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up as he held your head in place. 

You moaned as he fucked up into your mouth, your left hand braced on his knee while the other fondled his balls. Tears pricked your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped as he halted his movements and gripped your shoulder, “Stop before I nut.” 

You pulled off with a loud pop, placing one final kiss onto the swollen, spit-gleaming tip before climbing up his body and crushing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. His big hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your supple ass while he kissed you back just as sloppily.

"Aight, lay back for me," he murmured, breaking the kiss and pushing you onto your back, moving with a skilled quickness to put the magnum on before slotting himself between your spread legs. 

He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his dick up and down your wet slit, only stopping to tap his fat tip against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.

He slowly pushed inside, and your mouth fell open, but you quickly closed it, fighting back the scream that was about to escape.

“Shit,” he groaned deeply, pulling out a little once he was halfway in, and sinking back in, watching your pussy stretch around him. “You squeezin’ a nigga.” 

The pressure of the stretch stung, so you just bit your bottom lip, clung to the sheets and breathed deeply through your nose until the feeling subsided.

“You good?” he asked, voice laced with concern, stopping all movement when he realized just how quiet you were being. 

You opened your eyes, and his worried eyes swept your face, looking for any sign of pain. It was almost as though he was splitting you in two. You had to take a few more deep breaths in order to relax.

"Yeah, I'm good," you assured him as you let go of the covers and clung to his arms. "Your dick is huge, Fontaine goddamn."

He grinned at your confession and pulled all the way out before plunging back in, damn near knocking the wind out of you. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, legs spreading wider to grant him better access. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you let out a moan so inviting that he couldn't resist lowering his head and capturing your lips with his. You stroked his cheeks and tugged him closer, kissing him with all the fervor you could muster.  

“Shit, you feel good,” he praised, moaning softly as he began to circle his hips. 

“Please fuck me harder,” you sighed deeply, hands moving down to cup your breasts.

He straightened up and began to thrust inside you, picking up the tempo once he established a good rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips slamming hard against yours, and heavy breaths.

“Fontaine,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response as he was beginning to love the way you called his name. 

“You look so pretty takin’ all this dick,” he praised, grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you even faster. Warmth spread across your chest at the praise, and more wetness oozed out of your tight hole.

His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. Listening to him groan and grunt in delight was music to your ears, and it made your clit throb harder.

The intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. When you realized how loud you were being, you snapped your mouth shut, stifling your moans.

"Nah, I want to hear you,” he growled low in your ear, thrusting harder and deeper, “Tell me how good Daddy dick feels.” 

You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “You—ah shit—feel so fuckin’ good!”

“I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?” Fontaine chuckled cockily, gold chain dangling against your chin. 

“Yesss Daddy! Ple—please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“What a nigga get if he don’t stop?”

“Anything!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he pounded you into the mattress. “Shit— Fontaine I’m ‘bout to cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut. 

“I want that shit,” he grunted loudly as he felt your walls contract around him, “Cum all over this dick.” 

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard, muffling your screams of pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. He sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable pain and as your cunt clenched so tightly around him, cumming hard, creaming all over his dick.

He whispered soothing things to you as your body convulsed in his arms. He held you tighter as he traced kisses all over your face and down your neck, shifting his rhythm back to a gentle rock. 

Once you came to your senses, you opened your eyes and gasped at the teeth marks you had left on his shoulder.

“Oh shit Fontaine,” you whispered as you traced the bite mark with your thumb, “I ain’t mean to bite you.” 

“Nah, you good,” he huffed, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m actually into that shit.” 

“Good to know.”

He waited a few more seconds before pulling out. He climbed off of you, kneeled on the bed, and scooched back to give you room to move, “Hands and knees, Y/N.” 

You happily obliged by rolling onto your stomach and arching effortlessly on your hands and knees.

You and Fontaine moaned in unison when he entered you in one swift motion, hips smacking against your asscheeks as he set a brutal pace. This must have been his favorite position because he wasn’t fucking around this time. Your desperate whimpers and the wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the bedroom once again. You took every inch he gave you, arms stretched out in front of you, fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked back against him. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted as he smacked your asscheek, “Fuck me back just like that.” 

His grip was so tight on your waist that you knew your hips would be sore in the morning. The thought alone made you wetter so you threw it back even harder.

It didn't take long for Fontaine to elicit another orgasm from you, causing your knees to buckle and slump against the mattress. He followed you down, chest pressed against your back, still pounding his thick dick inside you and panting against your ear.

As he placed all of his weight on you, his large hands wrapped around yours, fingers intertwining as he continued to give you the best dick you'd ever had. He was grinding so hard and deeply into you, muttering filthy words in your ear. The boundless pleasure was starting to become overwhelming. You couldn't cum again. You were almost certain that you'd pass smooth the fuck out if you came a fourth time. You needed him to cum. 

“Fon—fuuuuck! Please cum for me!” 

“You want Daddy to nut?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined, eyes rolling back as he brushed against your g-spot yet again. 

“Aight, c’mere,” He rose back up on his knees, tugging you along with him. You braced yourself on your hands and knees. He slowly rocked into you a few times before setting a merciless pace, fucking the breath right out of your lungs.

“Goddamnit,” you rasped, “You fuck me so good!”

As he repeatedly hammered away at your g-spot, all you could do was grab the sheets and scream his name. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. As your walls tightened around his fat dick, you trembled, gasping and whimpering. You were a mess. Another orgasm blasted through you, taking you both by surprise and blurring your vision. It took all your strength not to fall forward as your thighs shook violently.

Fontaine grunted loudly as he rutted against you like a mad man, smacking your asscheeks over and over, chasing his own orgasm. He let out a low, guttural groan, thrusts faltering as he twitched inside of you, cumming hard. 

You both panted harshly and were completely fucked out. Arms and legs weaker than SWV.

He trailed kisses down your sweat-glistening back before pulling out of you. Once he was free, you slumped all the way forward, your head resting against a pillow. He carefully pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it into the bin beside his nightstand before plopping down next to you. 

Still splayed out on your stomach, you scooched as close to him as you could, cupped his face, and just gazed down into his eyes as you swiped your thumb across his hairy cheek. 

He mirrored your gaze, his eyes less intense than usual, and wrapped his arm around your waist, massaging small circles into your lower back with the pads of his fingertips.

After a prolonged moment of silence, in-tune gazes, and soft caresses, you broke the silence and said, "That was fuckin' amazing."

He nodded his head in agreement so you asked him, “When can we do this again?” 

“Whenever you want,” he said before pulling you down into a tender, biting kiss. He sucked in your lower lip and licked into your mouth teasingly. You tugged on his bottom lip, softly sighing as you ran your tongue across his golds, shifting so you were half on top of him, chest to chest.

Good, you thought. Because you definitely planned on sticking around. Good dick and conversation? There was no way you were passing that up. 

“Goddamn ‘Taine! You ain’t have to upstage a pimp like that!” Slick Charles hollered through the walls. 

You broke the kiss, gasping at the random outburst. 

“Nigga, shut yo retired ass up!” Yo-Yo said just as loud.

Fontaine tried to hold it, but one look at your amused face had him chuckling and shaking his head fondly at his roommates.

[daydreamingsirens]

It starts with a simple text.

You tryna fuck or nah?

Well shit he couldn't get more direct than that. You liked that about him, he didn't fuck around; he told you what he wanted and when.

And that's where you found yourself. Face down, ass up with his arms around her hips and his face buried in it.

You hiss as he slaps your ass and presses the flat of his tongue against you and drags it up slowly, laughing as he feels you turn into a quivering mess. Not to be outdone or laughed at, you throw your hips back and sway from side to side.

“Is that all you fuckin' got? You woke my ass up for this—ooh.” he closes his lips around slick flesh and slurps. You took that as your cue to stop talking, spread your thighs wider, and press your chest into the quilt. He moves back and surveys his work, watches rivulets of spit drip down into the covers before he straightens up and slides his dick through the mess.

“It wasn't like you was really sleep though. I mean unless you fall asleep with ya phone in hand, waitin' on my texts and shit. Obviously you wanted this dick.” he gives you a silly ass look and you roll your eyes.

“Keep lookin' like that and I'mma take my ass back to sleep, fool.”

“Nah,” he barely presses the tip inside, just enough for you to feel it and moves back before you can thrust back on it, “what you gon' do is take this dick right here. Now throw that ass back and quit fuckin' playin'.” He holds his dick steady as you throw your hips back and sheath him in one smooth movement before he grabs your hips and thrusts without a second thought.

“Ooh s-shit.” you moan and buries your face in your arms as he smacks your ass hard, the sound vibrating around the otherwise silent room.

“Yeah, throw that shit back.” he meets you thrust for thrust, his bruised hands splaying across your lower back as you move, slapping sounds filling the room. He hears your muffled whines and grabs your hair, pulling your head back up, “Now what was you sayin', I need you to repeat that.”

“I s-said—ooh—fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you fucked up whoever you fought earlier.” he tugs your hair a little harder as he pistons his hips faster, feeling you clench and loosen whenever he'd dig his nails into your hip. He strokes over your spot and you holler.

“Yes! Right there, fuck, right there!” sweat drips down your face and you doesn't give a single fuck that you're sweating your hair out or that you might wake someone up as you grip the quilt and cant your hips back and feel one palm connect with the thick flesh of your ass and the short fingernails on the other hand dig even further into the skin on your hip.

“What's my name?” he says as he tugs your head back up, wrapping the soft strands of hair around his hand.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, Fontaine!” you sob as you feel yourself gush. He pulls almost completely out and slams back inside, making your knees wobble and the bed frame shake dangerously.

“Fuck yea. Scream that shit baby, I can't hear you!”

“Fontaine! I-I'm cum—ah!” you scream as you reach your peak. Fontaine slows his pace and fucks you through your orgasm before he cums inside of you and collapses on your back.

“Mm. You gon' wrap my hands up before I gotta shimmy down ya drain pipe in an hour or nah?” you roll over and throw him off and onto the floor with a grunt.

“Maybe, now let me lay here and think about my life for the next twenty minutes.”

[theeblackmedusa]

he's cute

summary: "he cute. ain't right for you, though."

pairing: fontaine x black!fem!reader

warnings: 18+, language, smut, bit of a breeding kink, fontaine's kind of toxic if you squint, needles/sutures, descriptions of blood/violence, use of n word (idk why i'm warning about this but yuh), also there's a lot of AAVE in this so if you "correct" my grammar in some of the dialogue pls don't 💀

He knew he shouldn't be here, but he had nowhere else to go. He was hurt and tired and wanted you to fix him up because he always seemed to heal quicker when you did it.

Fontaine swallowed the lump in his throat as he raised his hand to knock on your green door. You were the only person in the world that made him nervous and he fucking hated it. It had been that way since you were kids. He could face any bully, stand up to any unfair teacher, but his mind went blank when it came to you.

He inhaled as deep as he could manage without sending a stabbing pain through his body before tapping his knuckles against the wood and then returned his hand to his stomach to hold his bleeding wound. A few long seconds passed before your voice came from inside.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," he grunted out weakly.

The locks clicked and Fontaine prepared himself for the wrath you would unleash when you opened the door and let your eyes fall on him. He did his best to stand up tall when the door began to creak open, but it was no use. He looked like shit either way.

"What the fuck, Fontaine?!"

Usually, you'd be concerned when Fontaine showed up on your doorstep bloody and bruised, but all you could feel at the moment was frustration. He'd told, no, promised you that the fighting would stop and that you wouldn't have to see him at his lowest anymore, but it was like he couldn't stay away.

"Got in a fight-"

"Really? I hadn't fucking noticed!"

Fontaine ignored you as you ranted about how he wasn't keeping his word when he was supposed to always keep his word to you. He couldn't focus on how upset you were because it would only get him upset with himself for making you that way.

He pushed past you as you cursed at him for going out and "being stupid" again.

"Isaac still ain't learned to keep his lil punks away from-"

"Always Isaac. Always Isaac! The way y'all fight, I'm surprised it ain't turned to fucking yet!" you laughed bitterly as he carefully lowered himself onto your couch, groaning all the way down.

"Why you all dressed up?" he questioned, switching the subject in hopes that it would make you stop fussing.

You looked good. Really good.

"I got a date, who should be here any second now, so you need to get out before he comes."

Fontaine scoffed at the fact that your pretty black dress and sexy red lips were for someone else. You should be his, but you can't be. Not with all the shit he gets himself into. As bad as he wants you, he can't put you in a position to be hurt just for being important to him.

"Date?"

"The fuck are you, a parrot? Yes, Taine! I have a date!"

You shut your door and stood in front of him, taking in the sight of him.

He looked truly pitiful, cuts and bruises forming on his dark skin. His shirt was soaked from the blood coming from his gash and he looked exhausted overall.

"What happened?" you sighed.

"Just a lil stabbin'. Nothin' I couldn't walk off-"

"Taine-"

"That's all it was," he told you.

"Did anybody-"

"Nah. Ain't nobody got killed," he assured, knowing your concerns.

It had always been a fear of yours. You hated all the violence and death, but more specifically, you hated the thought of that violence and death coming back to bite Fontaine in the ass one day. This neighborhood was full of hotheads and you'd hate for one of them to make Taine a target because somebody died at the hands of him or somebody he was associated with.

"You can't keep doing this, Taine,"

"I won't."

"Promise me."

He shook his head, pushing his hand deeper into his wound for pressure.

"You know I can't do that no more. I hate breakin' my promises to you."

Before you could respond, there was a knocking at your door and you rolled your eyes.

"That the date?" he asked, turning his head to the door.

"Probably," you huffed. "You and your bad fucking timing, Taine. Go hide in the back bedroom or something."

His eyebrows raised in amusement. This was becoming a game for him.

"Oh, you hidin' me and shit? Fuck nah, I been around the longest he gon' have to accept that," he argued. "Matter fact...come in!"

Your eyes widened at his antics and you searched for the closest object to throw at him, but your door was already opening to reveal your very confused date for the night.

"Fuck you," you mouthed to Fontaine before turning to the door.

Your date wasn't even looking at you. Instead, his eyes were planted on Fontaine, who, despite his battered and bruised state, had his grillz on full display as he smirked up at the other man.

"Kalen, hey," you finally greeted, an awkward attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

"This how you roll?" he asked, using a hand to gesture to the bloody man on your couch.

You shook your head, hoping to defend yourself.

"I know how this looks, but I promise to explain later! I-"

"You got other niggas on ya couch and you tryna explain shit? I'm done with yo ass. Thought you was tryna start somethin' for real, but you out here with other dudes."

Kalen was one of the resident hotheads, and arguing with him was pointless.

Fontaine quietly grumbled something that you refused to pay any mind to as you watched Kalen turn right back around and leave, slamming your front door behind him.

You inhaled deeply, Fontaine still mumbling under his breath about how you need to leave "bitch ass dudes like Kalen" alone.

If he wasn't one of the closest friends you had, you would have shut his ass up with a punch to the mouth by now. All you wanted was a night out with someone who could potentially get your mind off of a plain and simple fact: You and Fontaine were not and would never be together.

Every time you thought about it, your heart cracked, but it was something you had to accept. He didn't see you in the way he saw other women, so you'd have to settle for men that couldn't hold a candle to him.

"Could you shut the fuck up, Taine?" you snapped, walking to your bathroom to get the first aid kit.

The faster you patched him up, the faster he would get the fuck out of your house. Next time, you just wouldn't open the door for him. That would save you a hell of a lot of trouble.

"You always get with these bum niggas and get mad when they show that they crazy!" he yelled from the living room.

"He only got that way 'cuz you brought your bullshit to my house!" you shot back, pulling the bathroom drawer open with so much force that you were surprised you hadn't ripped it straight off. "I could have been having a peaceful night with him, but no! I'm here with no man babysitting your ass!"

He rolled his eyes at your sass and began struggling to shrug his jacket off as he awaited your return with the first aid kit. After his jacket, his bloodstained shirt followed. Now, he was shirtless and trying not to let his blood spill all over your couch, knowing that you'd stab him again if he messed it up.

Finally, you returned with a warm towel, a sewing kit, matches, and first aid. You had half the nerve to put it all away and kick his ass out on the street and let him fend for himself, but you cared too much. You always did and sometimes you hated it.

"Hold this," you ordered, shoving the matches and sewing kit into his lap before you took a seat next to him, making sure to plop down and make him jerk slightly.

"The fuck is wrong with you?! Be careful!" he gritted out, glaring at you sharply.

A sarcastic laugh escaped you.

"You aren't careful out there in the streets getting stabbed and shit. Why should I be careful with you now?"

He didn't respond, too exasperated with the night he'd had to entertain any of your taunting about it. He simply turned to you to allow a better angle for you to start cleaning him up.

You pulled out the towel and started dabbing the large, deep cut that spanned across his stomach. It almost made you feel sick. If it had been too deep, he wouldn't be here with you right now.

As you cleaned him, it was as if he could read your thoughts. He sensed your mind racing one hundred miles per second as you went through the "what ifs" of the night. He knew it was impossible to erase those thoughts for you. He was a drug dealer, after all. There was danger in the job, but he could help pull you out of them briefly.

"So, why the fuck you goin' on dates with these lames?" he questioned, exhaling in a vain attempt to fight the stinging of the towel on his injury.

You shrugged.

"Need someone to talk to, I guess," you responded shortly, not keen on telling him that these "lames" were unworthy attempts to make up for the fact that you didn't have him.

"You got me, Yo-Yo...Slick," he replied.

You shook your head. You and Yo-Yo were close, yes, but you and Slick? Not so much. It was like talking to a crazy uncle that should have been put in a retirement home a long time ago.

"I need...something else, Taine."

Dick, you thought.

You were starved of touch and you were getting desperate. You needed intimacy and you were searching for it in men that weren't even the one you wanted it from.

"Like?" he pressed as you put the towel down and began to burn the end of the sewing needle, preparing to stitch him up.

Fontaine was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what you were getting on about, but he liked to hear you say things. Sometimes you wondered if your embarrassment amused him.

You huffed, knowing that he wasn't going to drop it.

"I don't know, Taine. I just need something new. The vibrators ain't cutting it anymore...I need a man, sex," you admitted in frustration, warmth in your face as you tried to fight the embarrassment of your confession.

"You was finna fuck Kalen tonight?" he laughed, attempting to cover up the panic he felt inside at that revelation.

"Maybe not tonight, this time was just gon' be a date!"

Lord knows you won't take me on one, you thought, pushing the needle into his skin to start the sutures and making him hiss.

Fontaine's fingers curled into the arm of the couch as you stitched him up, eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to steady his breathing.

If he hadn't pissed you off so bad, you'd imagine if this is how he'd look if you were on your knees for him, taking him deep into your throat and making him lose his breath.

"He cute, but he ain't good for you," Fontaine rasped through gritted teeth, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

"But you are?" you snapped.

"I ain't say all that," he defended.

"But that's what you meant."

Silence took over the room once more as you finished the stitches and examined your work. Once you assured that you'd fixed him up properly, you grabbed an alcohol wipe, ready to clean up the more minors scars.

"I just...Ion like him, (Y/N)."

You shook your head, gently wiping a scrape on his shoulder and sighing.

"Taine, if you didn't have every bitch in this damn neighborhood begging to sit on your dick, maybe I'd listen to what you have to say on this," you started. "But, I just wanna have fun and fuck around. Not worry about if somebody's good for me or not."

He couldn't fight it this time. Usually he could hold his tongue, keep back that confession that was constantly trying to rip through his body, but this time he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of you in somebody else's bed or kissing on someone that wasn't him. He wanted you, and he needed you to want him.

"We can't have fun and fuck around?" he asked you, grabbing your wrist and stopping your movements.

Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly. It was as if it was banging its fists against you in an aggressive plea for you to free it from your body.

You averted your eyes to anything else but him. They settled on the floral print in the curtains until he used his other hand to grip your chin and make you look at him.

"We can have a lotta fun, baby. What you say?" he suggested lowly, leaning into you so close that his lips were just barely touching yours.

You could have all of him if you wanted. You could've had him a very long time ago, but there was always that unspoken thing between the two of you. The elephant in the room that you two mutually decided was invisible.

"Taine," you breathed out.

"Let me show you how much fun we can have."

You weren't in control of yourself. It was as if his eyes had paralyzed you. Now, you were just his little rag doll as he lifted you in his lap and turned you so that your back was to him. You couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but all you knew was that his hands were now groping your breasts over your dress as he attacked your neck with hot kisses.

"Them niggas out there can't make you feel the way I can, mama."

You shuddered at the nickname. "Baby" had been something he'd called you casually for as long as you could remember, but "mama"...that was new. And it made your stomach do a somersault as you imagined it.

You could picture yourself as a mama for his children. Waddling around plump and being pampered by him for carrying his baby. A soft moan escaped you at just the thought and he grinned into your neck.

"You like that? You wanna be a mama?" he asked, running his thumbs over your nipples until they hardened.

You almost broke your neck nodding in response.

"I can make that happen," he told you. "Fuck my kids into you. Make you mine for real."

An aching grew between your legs at that. You'd be trapped with him forever. No matter what went down between the two of you, you'd always be his, always have a piece of him. The thought shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but you could feel your panties soaking from it.

"Take this off for me," he instructed softly.

You obeyed without question, standing up to slip out of the black dress. Seconds later, you were in nothing but the lacy black underwear you'd put on "just in case" you decided to let Kalen get somewhere.

Fontaine frowned at the panties and reached forward gripping them at the band before tearing the fabric. If he hadn't been spewing that shit about making you a mommy, you would have been pissed. Those were expensive.

You were completely bare in front of him and a little self conscious, but Fontaine was staring at you like you were the lottery and he'd just won. You were perfect, dark skin glowing in the moonlight that shone through the curtains, thighs that he couldn't wait to get between. How on Earth could he have resisted you for so long?

"Shit, mama. Don't think I can wait to get inside you."

You couldn't wait either. You'd been needing him.

"Then take that shit off," you told him with a sickeningly sweet smile, nodding to his pants and belt.

He only chuckled low in response and did as told, unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side somewhere. Next, he lifted his hips, wincing as he lowered his pants down to his ankles.

Before he could start on his underwear, you were lowering yourself to your knees in front of him and pressing your cheek against his thigh. He shivered at the feeling of your warm breath.

After what felt like forever, you lifted your head, pressing a kiss to each of his thighs before pressing one to his hard cock over his underwear.

Fontaine sighed as you brushed your lips against him, teasing him mercilessly.

"Cut that shit out," he warned, eyeing you dangerously.

You smiled before pressing another kiss to the tip and bringing your hands up to the waistband before curling your fingers underneath.

"So bossy," you sighed, pulling his underwear down and letting them fall with his pants.

"Yeah, the boss say get ya pretty ass up here and take a seat."

Your core throbbed at the demand and you raised yourself up to straddle him, fingers gripping his cock and aligning him with your entrance.

Fontaine captured your lips in his, getting a taste of you before he took you. There was no going back. You both knew it.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him, both of you groaning from the sensation. The stretch stung in the best way as you tried to accommodate his size. You had to sit still to adjust, forehead resting against his until you got the courage to move.

Your pace was slow at first, still adjusting to the fullness of him inside of you, but soon, your speed increased, hips rolling against his as you rode him.

Fontaine wasted no time getting his hands back on your tits, massaging one while he worked his mouth on the other. He was addicted to them, watching them bounce as you skillfully worked his cock.

Eventually, your arms found their way around his neck as you leaned on him for support, ass bouncing as you fucked him. Fontaine cursed, letting his hands fall to your bottom to spread your cheeks more.

If the stab wound didn't kill him, you sure fucking would. He raised his hand and brought it back down, striking your ass and revving you on. He'd keep the desperate whimper you let out at the blow in mind.

"Yeah, that's it. Twerk that pretty ass on my dick, baby."

Your ass slapped against his thighs as you rode him, desperate to reach your high. You were so close. You began to feel weak, and he could tell as your pace slowed down.

"I got it, baby. I got it."

He wrapped his arms around you, stilling you against his chest as he began thrusting his hips into you, the tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside you that made you want to scream.

You could feel your orgasm coming like a tsunami ready to crash into you. All that was escaping you were incoherent noises as Fontaine fucked you stupid.

"Tight pussy squeezin' me," he grunted, words becoming slurred as he approached his own climax. "Let that shit out for me, mama."

As if you were hypnotized, your body responded, orgasm washing over you as your walls contracted around him, bringing him to his release as well.

Fontaine spilled into you, warm cum coating your walls as you went limp against him. His hips slowed before stopping completely and he let out a long exhale as he tried to recollect his thought.

"You have fun, baby?" he finally asked when he caught his breath.

If you had the energy, you'd slap the hell out of his cocky ass, but he'd just fucked you into exhaustion and his cum was steady leaking out of you, making a mess all over your inner thighs, so you went with the next best alternative.

"Shut the fuck up or I'm taking them damn stitches out."

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

let me know if you'd like to be added to either a john boyega or teyonah parris taglist bc i'm about to go crazy with them

tags: @wakandas-vibranium

[montysstuffs]

Shea Butter Baby

I wrote this in a fit of horniness. it's not great. It's absolute garbage and I'm just rambling but Fontaine got me out of my writing rut. This is literally so quick. like written in less than 30mins.

Summary: Fontaine is obsessed with you but he always talking that shit.

Warning: Fontaine's filthy ass mouth, your equally smart ass mouth, a little bit of a breeding kink if you squint, Cowgirl position.

He's getting dizzy, drunk on your whimpers and curses. Your thick and warm thighs stick to him. your slick folds coating your inner thighs. The beaming sun aids to the sweat that beads and slides between the middle of your breasts. Fontaine wanted nothing more than to lick it up. Taste everything that you are willing to give him. He wants to consume you whole. But as you bounce on his thick cock, he knows that he's the one getting consumed. Your brown eyes bore into the very soul that he knows he doesn't have. And yet, just your eyes lit it ablaze.

Your sultry moans echoed through the walls like a velvet vice around his neck along with the slapping of skin. The moment you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, you throw your arms around his neck and screw your eyes shut. "Don' close them pretty eyes, look at me. Lemme see them eyes," he's desperate to chase both of your orgasms.

Hes rutting up into you at this point. He's clenching his gold teeth, grunting and hissing absolute filth as he bucks his hips to match your bouncing, "finna...fill yo guts...slut you out...fuck my kids into you...fucking slut."

"Big talk coming from somebody that's bout cum just from this," you smirk down at the man.

"Girl...fuck...you," he looks pathetic biting his bottom lip as his grip on your hips tighten.

"Fuck, you already are," your attitude never falters, even as your climax approaches.

"C'mon baby, give it to me," he wants to know if you're just as smitten with him as he is with you.

AAAAHHHHHHHH GOODBYE

[slippinninque]

🫣🍑Private Dancer🍑🫣

Or: You discover another half to the secret you thought you were keeping

Fontaine x blackfemreader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, cursing, use of the n-word, mentions of smoking/weed, P-in-V, mentions of insecurity, long fic

Truth was, you were a secret shaker.

A tentative twerker. An apprehensive ass-thrower. Your waist whined when being perceived directly and not in a good way. Not only did you decline to throw ass in public, you will also turn away any offers to catch it.

You learned chorography to your favorite sounds, bounced around your living room as you folded clothes. Recorded dance challenges and deleted them a few hours later. You were your very own Stallion behind closed doors.

When you were alone, though...

It took only a handful of awkward encounters and an asshole ex-boyfriend suggesting you 'stand to the side' for you to be determined to find your rhythm.

Looking up tips online and went to any beginner's classes you could find in the area. Ballroom, salsa, the pole--it all helped you understand your body outside of what it looked like. It was about what you trained it to do, what you wanted it to do.

Investing in a really good floor length mirror was the last puzzle piece you needed to really find your beat. From there on, you and the mirror were lovers.

Only your small circle of friends knew. That was thanks to enough years of trust and tequila, leading to wild nights at house parties with the radio cranked high.

You eventually learned that it was nothing to be ashamed of. It's not like it kept you away from fun or being included in the antics. If you went out with the ladies, you hyped them and kept a cute lil' two step. You held the title of Camerawoman with pride and your background cackles were famous in the group chat.

The booty wouldn't boogie with anyone else around and it's been that way for years.

It was your own little secret. No one had to know everything and you babbled enough as it was. If anyone cared to stare hard enough to a deserted, dark corner of the house--then maybe they could catch a glimpse.

The sway-snap of your hips, falling beautifully with every beat that you heard. How your hair gleamed, the way your smile swelled with the change of the songs.

Your entire body sang a song.

At least, that's what Fontaine thought when he first spotted you.

Of course you never knew he saw you. Even after the reciprocated confessions and hot-n-heavy honeymoon phase, you thought you went unseen.

Fontaine took your secret for his own, delighting in your shadow shows on the rare occasions you came out to play.

Fontaine could wait and if you had to feel alone to feel secure, then so be it. He used his admiration and desire to touch you, to be a proper witness.

Just being near you was more then enough, it would have been ungrateful to be so greedy.

------

You screamed when you saw him standing there.

The earbuds went off into the wilds of the kitchen, one skittering beneath the fridge.

Fontaine's eyes were popped wide but didn't seem remorseful for scaring your soul to the heavens.

"I thought you heard me when I came in." Fontaine hung up his keys before going in search of your earbuds. You watched after him, mortified.

You were just really into organizing the lower pantry. Lost in shaking your ass with one hand braced on the red potatoes and the other searching for the brown potatoes to put them back in their proper spot.

When you turned to grab the few 'taters that eacaped, you saw your man standing a few feet away from you with his arms crossed and head tilted.

How long has he been here?

Oh god, you have never danced for him. You have never danced in front of him--you weren't even serious. There wasn't a problem with you shimmying to the beat in his lap at a function or waving from your hips up while riding in the car to some jams.

This was different.

"Hey, hey--whatcha curling up for? C'mon now, I already know you can move."

"It-- that, um, I-I'm not that good, so, y'know..."

Fontaine pocketed your traumatized earbuds and kissed your hands until you inched them away enough for him to see your worried gaze. He tutted quietly, taking your hands into his and kissing your knuckles.

"What matters to me is what makes you feel good, baby." His voice rolled into a purr as he continued, "Lucky me that you look so fine when you do."

You wriggled as your shyness battled against the excitement of having Fontaine looking at you the way he was.

"So I don't look.... awkward? Do I have enough stuff to make it look good?"

"Wasn't nothing awkward 'bout how you were throwin' that, trust me."

Fontaine's hands went down and grabbed two handfuls of your ass. His palms were warm and wide as he kneaded, bringing you even closer to him as you went to your tiptoes. He hooked his chin over your shoulder with a happy little him, distracted by you but only for only a moment more.

"Hold up, whatchu mean by 'enough stuff' ?"

You shrugged and decided not to answer. The truth of past insecurities felt redundant and you rather liked the way Fontaine was making you feel at the moment.

Fontaine grunted, giving you another squeeze before pulling back a bit to look into you square in the eyes.

"Look here-- I'm in love with all this right here, so I'm rockin' with you regardless of what you can make it do. Don't matter if you think you ain't got enough, shit, it's enough fo', me. Understand?"

His words worked out the few kinks in your heart, aches you grown used to and ignored when they flared. You nodded more confidently and only then did Fontaine lighten his hold on you, nodding back.

No telling how long Fontaine was standing there and if you never turned around-- you would have been none the wiser. How many times has he been there? Letting you have yourself, taking only a moment for himself as he had that smile on his face.

It was the same smile he had when he took away the shea butter to rub you down himself. Or similar to the smirk on his face when following after you to the bedroom after you talked a bit too much shit.

Your shoulders dropped as you fully relaxed into his hold. The burning embarrassment in your stomach churned into smooth, seamless and leaving you suddenly eager.

"So, tell me what a nigga gotta do to get a private dance from yo' pretty self?"

His hands helped themselves to another handful, this time spreading to touch between your legs. There was promise in his eyes and you knew you only needed to say yes.

You twist away from him enough to pluck your phone from the counter, sliding through a few songs before settling on something with drums and bass. The speakers pulsed and you began backing Fontaine out of the kitchen and into the living room.

He let you push him to sit in the recliner and he made an appreciative sound at the way you leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips. It evolved, going deeper until you pulled away with a protesting noise from Fontaine.

"That's the only touching you gonna get from me right now."

"Oh, word?"

"You're going to distract me enough as it is." You said, stepping away from him and stretching your arms over your head.

"Bold as hell to call me a distraction." Fontaine's brows rose as he leaned back to make himself comfortable, "Lookin' at me with them eyes..."

His eyes hooked onto your hips. You stretched, teasingly bending over and holding onto your ankles as you gave a cute lil' shake, looking over your shoulder coyly .

"What can I use to look if it ain't my eyes?" You asked, "How am I supposed to see you?"

"Don't worry 'bout what you see back here, act like a nigga ain't even here."

"Oh, that's impossible now. You still make me feel so shy..."

Fontaine snorted and your gave a giddy smile in return.

What you wore was actually perfect. Tiny shorts and cami, perfect for when you were bounding around to clean house. Just what you needed for you to do a little Bend n' Snap for your man.

The music changed and you looked over at him in surprise, he held your phone but watched you with a mischief. Reaching for the little, polka dotted stash jar you left on the coffee table to pull out a blunt to wag at you.

"Go on, show me what you got fo' me."

Waiting until he fired up, you sauntered closer and tied up the front of your already teeny tank. Fontaine's eyes honed in to your nipples, distracted as he took a drag. When his fingers crooked, you leaned in enough and pursed your lips.

Fontaine blew a strong stream that you breathed in and held. You held as long as you could before releasing the smoke a final time into the air.

Fontaine's blunts were no-nonsense, where he still rolled with leaves rather than the papers you preferred. It felt like a straight shot to the head, the smoke lifting all the chatter in your mind to leave you swirling in electric eagerness.

Without further ado, you showed him what you could do.

Your hands braced on your knees, clasped above your head, went down to touch your toes. You rolled your stomach and snapped your hips mouthing the words to Fontaine as you fully felt yourself. You extended your arms and tried to be as dramatically sexy as possible. Touching all of Fontaine's favorite places yourself, pushing up your breast and skimming your hand between your legs for him to see.

Fontaine was a chaotic DJ as he flipped through your playlist. He went from instrumentals filled with nothing but baselines and adlibs, to Glorilla to Megan Thee Stallion to Trina. Whistling at every peek of cheek and nip, calling out to see the 'pretty lady' when you coyly fanned your legs at him from the floor.

When you got down on your hands and knees, you felt a smack against your cheeks hard enough to snap your illusion. You leaned onto your forearms, ass up in the air, and broke into laughter as more bills rained down. It was like a confetti canon was let off or someone hit the Golden Button for you.

"That felt personal." You said over your shoulder at where Fontaine sent another fan of bills into the air, "You tryin' to tell me something?"

"Yeah--to bring that ass over here so I can get my hands on you," Fontaine patted his thigh, "Thought this was gonna be a lap dance..."

"Private does not mean lap." You sniffed. Honestly, you weren't sure because you've never been to a strip club but with the way he was throwing bills--the living room was cosplaying as a VIP section at King of Diamonds.

You took your time in coming closer, wondering if you could skip on singles before Fontaine snatched you right up when you were close enough.

"This is too much! When did you even have time to take out all these damn dollars?"

"I been waiting on this, baby. Shit, I woulda threw gold if it ain't' hurt..."

You laughed and looked around at the singles carpeting your floor in disbelief, it's like you had a new rug installed! There were dollars all overt the coffee table and even some fluttered over to coat the entertainment center. Was there a dollar up in the light fixture? Was that a fire hazard?

Fontaine's teeth nipped at your earlobe, turning your next remark into soft moan. His hand ran up to cup your neck, breathing you in with a hungry hum.

His voice was all smoke and honey, "This is all well an' good, but I think I'm feeling a certain type of way..."

"Is it the horny way?"

Your cheekiness got you mean little pinch to your sensitive nipples. Jolting only pushed you closer to his greedy hands. It was his turn to touch. He plucked and twisted your nipples, making you mewl and melt into his touch. You ground down into his lap where you felt he needed you most, making him sigh into your ear.

"Gonna be the death of me, ain't ya?" Fontaine husked, "Here lies 'Taine, bust so hard he went on to glory. He leaves everything to his pretty-booty havin' lady."

"What if I promise to shake somethin' on your grave, would that be better--no biting!"

Fontaine growled something into the mouthful of shoulder he had, shaking his head gently and making you squeal and scrunch up to try and escape.

Still warm from being in the spotlight of Fontaine's attention and the pulsing music, your head swam with delight. It felt like victory. You turned and kissed at the side of his face before your lips met.

When your grinding became more insistent, Fontaine leaned back with his lip caught between his teeth.

Allowing yourself to be admired and seen was like nothing else. Fontaine has always shown nothing but devotion to you but you still felt like he was...just being nice. You were holding yourself back from assumed disappointment but this whole time he's been waiting on you.

Talk about blocking your blessings...

"That's what I'm talkin' about. Show me how you feel."

You looked over you shoulder, holding his hands against your breast as you rode in his lap. Fontaine hissed, one of his hands quickly escaped to clasp around your hips to grind up into you.

Leaning forward enough on your hands, your delicates went directly in his face as you tugged at his pant leg pointedly. Fontaine ignored your impatience and ran a hand over you, from between your shoulders down to the backs of your thighs.

You could hear him popping the button on his jeans and the rattle of his belt.

"How bad you want it, pretty?"

"Bad, real bad."

"'Do anything fo' it' bad?"

" 'Let you do anything to me' bad."

It happened fast after that, Fontaine righted you in his lap enough for him to press into your pussy. The stretch dropped your mouth open and Fontaine groaned at how wet you already were.

LOW started and you bounced to the beat, grinning dopily up at the ceiling at the feel of him hitting all your good spots. Your shorts provided a wonderful friction against your clit from how Fontaine shoved the fabric aside to let himself in.

It felt so naughty. To fuck on Fontaine like you were starved for him to the music rattling your walls. The thrill twisted with desire in your stomach, hurtling you faster and faster to your peek.

Suddenly more bills rained down and paired with Fontaine's laugh, more lust than amusement--it pushed you over the edge.

"Thta's it, I feel you, g'on and get yo' shit. Can't believe yo' pretty ass was shy..."

Fontaine took over. A bruising grip onto your hips, tipped you back into his chest as he thrust up into you in earnest.

"Puttin' that shit on me heavy, acting like you don't know what you do to me." Fontaine found a few singles that were being crumpled between you and pressed them to your dewy, lower back.

"Shieet, looks better than money. Wish you can see as much as yo' ass feel it, fuck." He gave your ass slap, you called out as you came. It felt like fire shot through you, leaving you reaching for any bit of him to clutch.

Between the music still going and Fontaine handling you so well, the sensations left you gasping. Legs burning and head filled with needy thoughts, you protested when Fontaine stopped your bouncing and maneuvered you until he slid free.

"Oh, show ain't over yet--you feel me?"

You did. Fontaine was heavy and hot where he tapped all over your ass, leaving kisses of wet spots. It filled you with a flash of pride or maybe even possessiveness. Craining your neck, you did you best to get a glimpse but Fontaine hand cupped your neck licked the shell of your ear.

"Yeah, that's you gettin' all over me. Tryna make me messy just how you like it, huh?"

He hissed when you writhed in his lap, ghost riding his dick until he gave you a little push to stand. Your mouth dropped open to whine but Fontaine turned you towards the middle of the room.

"Show me how you want it."

Fontaine held himself tight at the base, his lips lax enough for his gold to wink in the lamp light.

As gracefully as you could--you went down onto your knees before lying back to put your legs in the air. You rolled over in the blanket of dollars, wriggling down your shorts to one ankle until you could flick them away.

Fontaine grinned down at you, kneeling to slot his palm into the arch of your foot, his other hand stroking himself.

Fontaine moved your other thigh to the side around his hip, leaving you spread completely. You were still working, still giving him a show, but you couldn't bear to keep your hands off of him.

He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, eyes fixed to where his dick bumped against your mound.

"Prettiest thing touchin' soil and you think it ain't enough..."

"Hurry up, Mr. Lapdance--the show ends when the music does."

When you hand ran under his shirt, Fontaine tugged it over his head swiftly and much to your delight. The sight of his broad chest and delicious skin made you all the more impatient.

Fontaine's eyes flashed.

The image formed in your mind was electric. Pretending to be a little Stallion and running into a hungry handed, greedy eyed Fontaine in low strobe lights.

"You lucky we ain't meet like that. D'you wanna know what I would do if you showed out like that on a pole?

Not knowing just what he had in store for you as you led him to the privacy booths--intent on earning his attention.

When you licked your lips, Fontaine groaned softly, you smiled at him.

What's another little secret?

Pressing into your heat, Fontaine grumbled something about Home Depot.

"I did take a few classes, if you ever wanna see ahn--!"

Drunk on pleasure, you could only cry out as Fontaine chased his thoughts out loud. The change in position, with him looming above you muttering filthy promises--it was too much for you.

"Shouldn't have told me that, now I gotta put a stage in here somewhere in this bitch..."

"O-Oh fuck, 'Taine!"

He froze to watch your eyes roll close as you shook apart beneath him with a sob. Fontaine lowered himself to bracket you between his forearms to kiss you, swallowing your moans. His hips snapped, lost rhythm and then he was coming with satisfied growl.

That was it. You were dead. Your very soul leaked onto his thighs and the carpet below.

'Here lies me, twerked too close to the sun...'

Fontaine releases a heavy, satisfied hum into your ear as he finally collapsed onto you. It should have been stifling and your knew your legs would be useless for the next while, but all you could do was grin at the feel of the dollar bill stuck to his shoulder.

What a way to go....

------

When the playlist finally ended, the silence found you both covered in sweat and dollar bills. Fontaine rubbed a loc of your hair between his fingers and you rested your eyes--head on his shoulder. Your hand wandering aimlessly across his chest as you began to doze.

He tugged gently to get your attention, "Want you to do me a favor."

"Mn. If it involves moving, you gotta pay me."

Fontaine snorted and flicked away the bill stuck to the thigh you've strewn across him. You shrugged a shoulder with a lifted brow, you got me there.

He continued, "If you can help it...I'd like for you not to hide from me anymore."

The change in his tone had you searching for his gaze and of course it was already on you. Fontaine took your hand in his, turning yours until he held it in his open palm.

"I...okay. I can do that for you."

You weren't ready to talk about the past and trying to make sense of your complicated feelings of being perceived. Something told you that it wasn't the time, maybe it was you hiding again, but at least Fontaine took your words earnestly.

He kissed your hand once, twice before leaning his head back and closing his eyes as he went back to playing with your locs.

"Oouf you are terrible." You hid your face into his neck, "But once my legs come back online, you're in trouble."

"Good..and no more watchin' Baddies. Watching them girls fucks wit' your disposition," Fontaine reached for a handful of bills to sprinkle all over you, "You wanna be a Stallion? Lemme know and I'll give you a ride."

Fontaine patted your ass, "Can't threaten me with good troubles, baby."

-----------

ending notes: thank you so much for reading! It's a long one but the idea wouldn't leave me alone! Might need some tweaking and editing since it's another Before Work Drop lmao! Please tell me what you think and what other things I should try, don't be shy! Comment and reblog please! 💕🥰💜

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk @miyuhpapayuh @cardierreh15 @mcondance @thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina

(Added a more after some slight revisions 🫣)

[megamindsecretlair]

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

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!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

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

Graphics by saradika-graphics

[iridescentprose]

Eclectic Memories- Fontaine x reader insert

summary; a brief timeline of you and fontaine's relationship.

warning(s); none, just fluff

author's note: they cloned tyrone is such a cinematic masterpiece. go watch it if you haven't.

When he told you he was a 'dope boy', it was over a bucket of fried chicken. At your reaction, he laughed because he thought the way you said 'dope boy' was funny - like you had never seen dope boys running around the Glen, mouth full of gold and guns in their pockets before. You told him he was the nicest dope boy you had ever met. The entire restaurant laughed in sync at your joke. The dope boy in front of you smiled gold.

When he asked you what you wanted to do on your first date, you told him you wanted to ride in his car. When he declined your request, he told you a joyride in his car - during the day or at night - didn't count as a date. Playfully, you both argued on what counts as a date, and he eventually gave in. He told you he would let you ride in his car one day.

When he told you were pretty, you were sitting behind the wheel of his car. The sun was just going down and your hands were resting on your lap nervously. He gave in, and had just finished driving you around the Glen. When you asked to sit in the driver's seat, he pulled over at a park and let you.

When he first got flustered in front of you, he had just reached over for the seatbelt to buckle you in because he wanted to make sure you were safe (even though you had no plans of stepping on the gas). When you said 'thank you', he nodded and leaned back against the passenger's seat, playing it cool, and ignoring the heat rising to his face.

When he first put his arm around you, you were in his house. He told you to make yourself comfortable. When you walked past the threshold, he was already sitting on the couch, arm sprawled across the back. Tentatively, you closed the front door behind you and looked at your options: the space next to him or an uncomfortably lonesome chair across the room. You opted for the space next to him. When you opted for the space next to him, he was surprised, though played it cool as you nestled your head against his chest. You could hear his racing heartbeat. His fingers rested along your shoulder as the tv blasted a grape juice commercial.

When you talked on the phone for the first time, it was 3am. He told you he couldn't sleep and that he was thinking about you. You smiled at the sentiment, finding it endearing. You told him you were thinking about him, too. You could hear his smile through the phone. You both didn't want the phone call to end.

When you told him you liked him, it was over the phone. You were too nervous to do it in person and your days were starting to get busier. He told you he liked you back and wanted you to be 'his girl'. When you told him you would, he played it cool, and told you 'good night'.

[ssaluv-a-lot]

Safe Place (18+)

A/N: she's short, she's sweet. she's smutty. NO MINORS. Quit playin wit me.

God, he loved it like this. A Saturday morning in your apartment. Work couldn't pull you out of his arms if it tried.

It was calm, quiet, safe. It made his chest tighten. He was safe here unlike everywhere else around the Glen where a target lay on his back. Just the thought of having to leave your space eventually, had him cradling you a little closer and planting a kiss to your forehead.

You shifted in his arms, groaning softly as sleep left your body and his anxiously tight hold was felt. You already knew he had gone way into his thoughts. He only held you this tight if he was thinking about losing you.

"Taine.." You lifted your head as much as you could to see him. His brows furrowed deeply and his face screamed tense. "Fontaine." You called him firmly and the spell was broken. He was back out of his rabbit hole.

"Mornin." His grip on you lightened up and you were able to stretch the way you wanted to before climbing into his lap and straddling his hips.

"Hey. What you thinking about that got you looking like that?" Your hands cradled his face and his expression softened the slightest bit under your touch.

"Nothin." His eyes shifted to the left at the gun sitting pretty next to all your makeup sprawled on your dresser. "You hungry?"

You leaned down pressing your chest against his and grazing your lips against his cheek. "Mmm, nah. Not yet." Your pressed a kiss to his cheek as your nails scratched at his short beard.

"Shit. What you trynna do?"

Yup, Saturday mornings were the best. It was only on Saturdays that the world around you stayed uneventful enough for Fontaine to fuck you how he should.

Deep, deliberate strokes into your sloppy pussy as you moaned to the gods and dug your nails into his biceps. The sun peeking through your curtains and giving your sweaty skin a sexy glow.

The soft slap of your skin every time his pelvis met yours and the sticky string of cum that connected you every time he thrust out.

Your eyes squeezed shut as his thick fingers rubbed slick circles into your clit, bringing your building ecstasy to a peak.

"Fuuuck Taine. Fucking me so good!" Your nails left welts in his skin as you dragged them across any flesh you could grip

"Uh huh. Take that dick." He grunted above you as his hips started to stutter, his own eyes locked on watching his dick drive in and out of your pussy.

The continuous buzzing of his cellphone near your head made him curse as he gripped your hips a little bit tighter. It was too soon to be starting shit and he wouldn't leave you as long as he didn't have to.

"Shit..shit.." His thrusts turn sporadic and meaningless as he neared his own end. "Oooh fuck baby."

He painted your tummy white and rolled to the other side of the bed with a huff. A beat of silence until you picked up the device from under your pillow.

"Fontaine.." You held the phone up into his face.

"Nah. Whatever it is, it's gonna wait. I ain't leaving you yet."

[8ttached]

"she's a real gem huh?"

pairings - (possessive) Fontaine x blk reader

warnings - (18+ smut, minors dni!!) not proof read, car sex (dont know if I would consider this as public sex since it's in an empty parking lot but you have been warned!!), aave, use of the n word, make-up sex

authors note - heyy I've been so caught up with other shit that i almost forgot about Tumblr but i finally whipped something up after weeks of writers block but i hope you guys enjoy!!!

word count - 946

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!! )

possessive Fontaine 

You always knew Fontaine was the possessive type. Not the loud “yells at anyone who stares at you” kind of possessive. But the “I know I'm lucky” possessive. The type to plant hickeys all over your neck for other niggas to see when they're talking to you. he gets a kick outta the ones who stare at them for too long

You were at the bar with yoyo and slick. Fontaine decided not to go since in his words “he got other shit to do.” your main plan was to stick together incase some weird shit happens but after a few drinks that plan was dropped. Yoyo was dancing while slick was god knows where and now you’re chopping it up with some nigga that claimed to “know you from way back.”

“Yeah, you haven't changed a bit! Same eyes as your mama” the older man said. You laughed nervously as you looked around the atmosphere. The guy began to compliment you again and again. Comments like “you look just like ya mama” and “you've gotten so grown” made your skin crawl.

You look at your phone checking the time, but you ended up seeing missed calls from Fontaine. not just one, but Multiple. You looked around looking for Yoyo and slick knowing that if Fontaine called multiple times, it was something serious. 

The older man's words suddenly turned into mumbles as you looked around seeing Slick and Yoyo nowhere in sight. You look down at your phone worried as you start to call Fontaine but something stops you. The older male said something as you weren't paying attention and a tall broad man stood behind you. 

“Yeah, she's a real gem huh?” he agreed.

The dark male's voice sent chills down your spine causing you to turn your shoulders, face to face with your boyfriend. Fontaine didn't say anything to you. His low-lidded eyes said more than enough. As you walked outside you remembered Slick and Yoyo were still in the club. Or so you thought.

“What about yoyo and-”

“They left.” 

Fontaine didn't look at you. His hands in his pockets, eye facing straight ahead, it all worried you. But what worried you most was Yoyo and Slick leaving you at the club knowing what could have happened. Especially with the weirdo you were talking to. 

You both get into his car. As you look down on your lap you feel a heavy shake from Fontaines side of the car. You smack your thick lips. “Damn nigga you ain't needa slam the door that hard.” but he didn't say anything, let alone look at you. He was giving you the cold shoulder. 

 “..taine” cold shoulder again. You sigh deeply. The car ride home was quiet

Fontaine set the car to park and took his key out the car. Before he could open the door you grab his shoulder. “Fuck you touching me for?’ he mumbles. “Fontaine it wasn't what it looked like” Your hand laid on his shoulder. “So you at the bar flirting to some older nigga wasn't what it looked like?” he turns to you, his grills shining as his nose turns up in irritation. “No, it wasn't! And you know I wouldn't do that shit to you” your voice cracked. You didn't want Fontaine to be worried about you. You were a big girl and you didn't need some hood nigga taking care of you, but you also didn't want him to think you were someone to share around. “Then what was it?”

 You ended up telling him everything that happened. From the plan, to the creepy comments. You made sure to lay everything onto the table. 

“Why didn't you say shit at the club?” he sighs looking straight at the driver's wheel as he sucked his teeth. “ ‘cus I know you taine and ion need that type of attention on me.” your eyes stuck at your dress. “That dress giving you every type of attention” Your boyfriend examines your short dress with a deep breath and hand rubbing his beard. He thought you looked jaw dropping but knowing Fontaine, he wasn't gonna let you see him fold so quickly, especially after what just happened. What’d you expect? He's stubborn. You smile, “Whatchu meannnn..” you laugh as you cross your hands, looking at him from the side. 

And like that, flirting quickly turned to fucking. 

Fontaine's rough hands groping your titties, ass, and hips time and time again. His name leaves your thick lips over and over again. the car windows steaming with warm breaths of ecstasy.

“Ion won't no other nigga looking at you” Fontaine groins. “ion care if yo ass was green, don't no nigga need to be laying they eye on what's mine.” you nod, too breathless, too caught up with with the feeling of Fontaine's hands rubbing that spot on your clit. ‘I'm all yours taine” you finally sigh. Your legs shaking as you finally came. But the rhythm of Fontaine's hips continued. His hands gripping your ass as his head lays back. 

“Fontaine, i cant..” you hold his arm. ‘I know baby i know, just relax mama m’kay?” you nod lightly laying yourself on his chest. Your warm breath on his neck. “Where you want it baby?” Fontaine's raspy voice asked. You were so fucked out of it, you couldn't let out coherent words. “In…side..” you moaned as Fontaine came inside you.

“You got it all on my dress!” you yelled out quietly as Fontaine grabbed the house keys. “That’ll show dem weird niggas ya already fucking with someone.” you notice his grin from the side which made you smile.

He really made you feel like a gem tonight. 

[mcondance]

maannnn i love a good/shy girl and bad boy trope but that could just be my corruption kink talking…like you can’t tell me fontaine wouldn’t be absolutely obsessed

fontaine would be absolutely obsessed.

he first spots you hanging around with yo-yo, this after they all moved down to memphis, and he’s hooked. you heard about what they did back in the glen and though you’re amazed, you’re also kinda scared cause. . this nigga used to be a drug dealer and he still got them aggressive nigga tendencies 😭😭

so one day bout a week or two after he sees you he tells yo-yo and charles that he wanna get to know you. yo-yo’s face immediately scrunches up.

“her? nah, taine.”

“what you mean nah?”

“she kinda. . you kinda rough around the edges, nigga. you might scare her. she come from a good family. ion want her involved in our shit.” yo-yo laughs, shrugging fontaine’s interest in you off. she thinks her words will turn fontaine off.

but charles smiles from across the room at fontaine as yo-yo goes back to studying, cause slick knows fontaine ain’t giving up.

and he doesn’t. yo-yo should have known better than to invite you over and then not be there when you get to the house. when charles sees you outside he disappears into his room, tells fontaine “taine! that girl you was presssin’ yo-yo bout out there!”

fontaine immediately sets his blunt down and checks his face in the mirror, fixes his chain so it hangs just right and makes his way to the living room to open the door and welcome you in.

“yo-yo ain’ here right now,” he calls over his shoulder, and you peep the gold grills sittin' pretty between his even prettier lips. he plops down on the couch, spreads his legs in a way that has you wondering just when yo-yo was gon tell you about her fine ass friend.

“that’s fine. i’ll jus’ wait out here.”

“aight. you smoke?”

“yeah.”

“stay right here.”

you watch him walk away, watch his thighs in his lil hoochie daddy shorts, watch his walk that draws you in just a little more than already are, watch him gaze back at you one more time before he disappears into his room, something you definitely did not hallucinate.

tearing your eyes away from the space that he occupied before he made his way into his room, you sink back into the couch and take a breath. you cannot be doing this shit. that’s yo-yo’s homeboy. her fine ass, pretty ass homeboy, who offered you a blunt within 30 seconds of knowing you, who’s dick is definitely big, who yo-yo will just have to understand that you want, who’s coming back out of his room with the blunt and handing it to you to puff first.

fontaine sits closer this time, and chills settle all over your body. even with the weed spreading through you, you’re still a little nervous. shy, even, cause you can feel his eyes roaming your body, glued to the exposed skin of your thighs and the gloss on your lips, your hair and your bracelets— you can feel his eyes on you.

“how long you known yo-yo?” fontaine speaks first, passing you the blunt back.

“‘bout a week after y’all came down here. we met a’work.”

“mhm. you seen what we did?”

“yeah. shit was cool as fuck. y’all doin’ that here?”

“maybe. we think we found som’thin like back in the glen. we’on’t know yet.”

“yo-yo told me how y’all saved her, she said you was ready to fuck them up when she got snatched.” you laugh, eyes damn-near big red hearts as you gaze with heavy eyes at fontaine.

“i was. i care ‘bout her,” he shrugs, handing the blunt back to you.

“‘s sweet.” your tongue is heavy now, and fontaine’s a little close, and you know you shouldn’t want to kiss a man like fontaine but you really do want to.

shit.

the blunt’s halfway between your hand and fontaine’s when yo-yo busts through the door yelling “fontaine, nigga i swear to god you better not be in here tryna seduce my girl.” her eyes settle on you, and fontaine, and the blunt, and the smoke in the air and— “goddamnit motherfucker, i told you leave her alone.”

“ian doin’ shit yo-yo. jus’ talking.” he smiles snarkily, golds sparkling, cause everybody in the damn house knows he’s not just talking.

“she right fontaine,” you speak up, though in the front of your mind you wanna give him a chance. but he’s. . different. and you’re nervous. you don’t know if you can fit in with him.

fontaine’s silent. two sets of eyes fall on him.

“‘s whatever.” fontaine gets up, says goodbye and then he’s disappearing into his room.

“you knew fontaine wanted me?”

“yeah. but, you know, that’s fontaine. and you’re you. ion know if you can keep up with him.”

you leave it at that. it’s whatever.

xxx

. . well, it’s not whatever. cause why the fuck is fontaine’s mint green pontiac pulling up beside you on your walk home from work.

“what a gentleman,” you joke.

“had to make up for stormin’ off las’ week. i got you some shit.”

“you’on have to make nothin’ up. yo-yo right. we different.”

“and what that mean? that we can’t get to know each other?”

“gon’ on fontaine. you know what yo-yo said.”

“fuck what yo-yo said.”

you’re silent. thinking. contemplating. do you really wanna fuck with this nigga? you don’t know.

“whatever.” you scoff, though you don’t speed up and you don’t want him to drive off.

“jus’ lemme take you home.” you raise your eyebrows and tilt your head at the implications of his words. “your home.” he clarifies, and all it takes is a sigh and a “home. and that’s it.” from you and he’s hopping out of his car opening the door for you.

the ride to your house is fun. between fontaine’s goated ass playlist and the not-so-small talk y’all make, it’s a dream. fontaine’s not that bad at all. he’s a big-ass softie, but he will fuck someone up if they fuck with something he love.

and you’re not that shy when you’re comfortable, not all nervous when you don’t feel you have a reason to be.

when fontaine drops you off at your house, the air in his car hangs heavy with the unanswered question.

“lemme think about it ‘taine.” you speak before he does.

“okay. i think you cool for real. hope you gimme a chance.” he grabs the bag of snacks he bought you and hops out of the car and walks around the front, opens the door for you and walks you to your front door.

“thank you for the ride fontaine,” you smile at him. you don’t know why, but you grip his face and lean forward, and he’s meeting you in the middle and shit, you’re kissing him and he’s kissing you and your bags of snacks is on the ground, and fuck what yo-yo says cause goddamn his lips feel good on yours.

you both pull away. it’s quiet.

“imma take that as a yes.”

xxx

“thought you was shy.”

you wish you could hit this nigga in his mouth, but you’re currently between his legs with his dick down your throat, swallowing and gagging and looking up at him with teary eyes, your makeup running down your face.

“you ain’t fuckin’ shy. you nasty.”

you are. you’re nasty when you let him cum down your throat, and you’re nasty when you grind on his face, huffing out breathless laughs at the way he eats you out like he needs your taste to fucking breathe.

“taste so fuckin’ good, got a nigga goin’ crazy.”

you’re nasty when you turn around and prop yourself up on your hands and knees, slurring fontaine’s name while he digs so deep in your guts you see fucking stars.

“tried to hold out on me, give me all that shy shit, but you fuckin’ me like this now. i wan’t even tryna hear allat.”

and you are fucking him, good at that.

“knew from the second i seen yo ass. .” he trails off, too focused on watching where you hold yourself on display for his hungry eyes, on where he disappears into you, on the white ring that appears on his dick every time he pulls out just to sink right back in. you don’t speak, too caught up in how good he feels and how he makes you feel secure enough to take what you want.

and you are nasty. it’s only been a week since he drove you home.

xxx

y’all don’t tell yo-yo nor charles, but when yo-yo gets home and you and fontaine are a draped over each other on the couch and charles just smiles when she asks if anything happened, she knows. ain’t shit she can do, though, but shoot fontaine a death stare, one that tells him not to fuck you up. he nods, and she can tell he’s sincere.