#Fontaine x Fem!reader
Note
Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?
A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?
Blackbird, Part 1: Lust
Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.
Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?
Word Count: 10,810k
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
#Megaminds Secret Files#Megaminds Asks#They Cloned Tyrone#Fontaine x Black!reader#Fontaine x Black reader#x Black reader#Fontaine x Fem!reader#Fontaine x Fem reader#x Fem reader#Fontaine x reader#Fontaine x you#Fontaine fanfic#Fontaine fan fic#Fontaine fanfiction#Fontaine fan fiction#John Boyega fanfic#John Boyega fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic#They Cloned Tyrone fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction#They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction
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✨ Pillow Time ✨
a/n: I've been inspired by the likes of @mcondance @megamindsecretlair @sageispunk and so many more of the lovely writers who has been feeding meeee wit the Fontaine thoughts! I hope you all like it!
warnings: Smut, MINORS DNI, 18+, Cursing, oral sex, cockwarming, needy!reader, softdomvibes!fontaine, long-fic
You had a very special pillow.
It was peach pink and white, made from the plushiest yarn that you found on a whim. It stayed fluffy and you could sit on it and still see the corners peek out when you're cross legged.
You often referred to it as one of your best creations. It reminded him of those cartoon pillows that would swallow anyone up if they sat in it. Ya'll had some good times with that pillow.
Fontaine called it your 'Princess Pillow'.
You were standing near him now, that pillow hugged to your body with your bright eyes peeking over the top at him. Fontaine was on the couch, rolling up and watching Coming to America.
"Feel like being good fo' me?" He asked, teasing as if he didn't know the answer. Fontaine watched you shift from one foot to the other, your smile fighting it's way onto your face as you nodded.
Nothing else for him to say. Fontaine widened his thighs and kept on rolling.
You'd toss the pillow onto the floor and shift close enough to be between his feet. He'd wait until you got comfortable, resting your cheek onto his thigh. While you rested there, Fontaine's attention returned to the TV.
Wasn't long before he felt the drawstrings being undone and sighed when your soft hands found him. He wasn't all the way hard yet, Fontaine knew that wouldn't be a problem.
Your lips suckled the head of his dick and Fontaine groaned softly at the drag of your tongue. A satisfied noise came from you and you sank down to the root of his dick. After a moment of shifting, you resettled and closed your eyes.
You swallowed around him, head bobbing as you fell into your own little world. Above you, Fontaine finished rolling his blunt and fired up. Taking a long pull while one of his hands went into your locs, scratching your scalp and rubbing the silky new growth between his fingers.
He blew the smoke up into the ceiling and murmured a few filthy praises. Pleasure was hooked to the tip of your tongue, in the patterns that grew more and more languid the more you relaxed into serving him.
You weren't in any hurry to make him cum, this part was all for you and Fontaine was just happy to be give you what you want.
When you went still, eyes glassy and slow blinking, Fontaine reached down and stroked the back of your neck.
"Gettin' what you need, baby?" He asked. Your answering mhmm vibrated right to his spine, "Mmn. That's good, pretty. Take your time, then."
You purred again and he had to take a breath to re-center. He could still remember how hesitant you were the first time you suggested this.
"I-I don't know if you think it's weird, we don't have too, I-I just really like having, um, you in my mouth?"
Fontaine would have bust on the spot had it not been for the gravity of the situation. You've been keeping this tucked to you for a long time, despite the laughing as you told him as if to soften the blow of his denial.
He kept his cool and reassured you that you could do anything with his dick that you wanted. In the meantime, Fontaine got ready so he could stay ready for you.
Fontaine absolutely made sure to keep his shit neat and trimmed for you and he switched to a soap that didn't have a strong fragrance. He looked up a few tips online to make sure he was taking good care of you and you weren't pushing yourself.
You rarely touched yourself. You prefer to rock against your pillow and often kneaded one of Fontaine's ankles as you savored him. It was the service, the act itself that brought you gratification. Knowing that you were being good to him, for him.
If left to your own devices, you would be down there for more than an hour. The record being two hours and some change as you both were immersed in the new Batman movie that finally started streaming.
He wanted to beat that record.
Presently, Fontaine's head was filled with a pleasant buzz as he smoked his blunt down to nearly half before it was put aside. On the TV, Hakeem finally touched down in New York in all of it's grimy splendor and to Semmi's dismay.
He was brought back by the quiet, kittenish noises coming from you as you nuzzled your nose into his coarse curls. It never ceased to amaze him how easily you could swallow him down. His hand went from your hair to the front of your neck this time, feeling as much as he could of how full of him you were.
"Look at you feelin' so good f'me, pretty. Can I play witchu? Hm?"
You nodded, putting your hands flat onto your thighs and relaxing into him. Fontaine rocked, ebbing and flowing his dick deeper down your throat with his eyes focused on yours. Your lashes fluttered shut with a sweet whine when he groaned, thrusting deep and flexing his dick in the velvet of your throat.
"Precious girl, right where you need to be. Doin' what you do best, look at that..."
Fontaine pulled his dick from your slick lips, pressing his first two fingers down onto your tongue. You were getting messy, spit twinkling along your face and down your throat.
He took off his tank and wiped your face with it.
You leaned into his touch and looked up at him, all floaty and tender, settled in that headspace that you were still too shy to talk about. Once your face was dry again, he leaned down to press a brief kiss to your soft lips after tossing his tank to the side.
Fontaine spent a moment rubbing and petting your face still, relishing in the pleasure of having such a vision willing to kneel for him and accept his care.
It was special, how you liked to please him. Different from anything he's ever encountered and much more than what he deserved--but Fontaine will be sure to be what you needed.
He spotted your wriggling and grinned in gold, "Still messy, baby?"
"Mmhm."
"Show me where."
Leaning back, you showed him the good-sized damp spot that darkened your pillow. All Fontaine had to do was lean in and you obediently leaned back onto your elbows, legs parting for him to look his full.
Fontaine whistled low, stroking himself at the sight of your ruined panties. He hadn't even known you bothered to wear any, but seeing your sweetie covered in the soaked cotton heated him.
In due time.
Fontaine crooked his fingers and you straightened at once, attention on where he held his dick for you. You got close enough or him to rub his dick across your face. When you opened up, your alluring tongue pink and perfect, he finally gave in. How could he not?
"Here you go, baby, take what you want 'cause once you're done--Imma do the same."
He didn't miss your shiver as you answered his words with a hard suck, making him moan and reach for the rest of his blunt.
............... ............. ............
END!
(or is it??? dundun duuuuun!)
a/n: Thank you for reading! I couldn't get this out of my head, lol! Tell me what you think!
taglist: @megamindsecretlair@thadelightfulone@mag1calenchantr3ss@cocoeffects@wide-nose-and-wonderful@8ttached@thadelightfulone@hobiesmain@thickeeparker@longpause-awkwardsmile@ms-angiealsina@educatorsareslutstoo@mysterychick93 @eggnox @notapradagurl7 @sageispunk @mcondance @hunnishive
(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)
#fontaine x black reader#fontaine x reader#fontaine x fem!reader#Fontaine x Fem!Reader#fontaine x black!fem!reader#they cloned tyrone#fontaine smut#they cloned tyrone smut
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╰┈➤ BLOODSTREAM ✦ NEUVILLETTE.
⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Neuvillette has always avoided you when he is in heat, more like ghosted you but not this time, not when you are knocking at his doorstep to take care of him.
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⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣fem!redaer, abo dynamic,heavy marking, nipple stimulation, blood k!nk, cockwarming, knotting, piv + unprotected, monsterfucking, mention of rut, oral acts, mild dub-con; 1k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. |
There is a rustle of rumor amongst the people in Fontaine ever since you came to Fontaine in search of work, that Monsieur Neuvilette has a separate chamber, adjacent to his main office, where he spends his time when in a rut. Some people even say that he is just a pesky knockoff of god, inhuman, a puppet and so many more just because he enacts impartial judgment devoid of any feelings and emotions. But you begged to differ. They have not seen him closely like you. They have not seen him soaking himself wet when the sky weeps. They have not seen him when he is in your embrace. Like now.
Your fingers partly cover your face leaving room for the eyes as you inhale deeply, moaning and feeling a stinging pain inside your lower belly that makes you arch your head backward with a long inhaling moan. This is perhaps the fifth time he has made you cum and just by eating you out, surlping your juices and fingering your whole. You have lost track of it since every time you feel less sane, less human. As you gradually straighten your head again, accompanied by cloudy vision, shaky breaths, and sweaty skin you see Neuvillette licking the wounds on your supple skin. They are just love bites, you remind yourself feeling the sharp end of his fangs graze along your boobline. His tongue encircles around your pebbled nipple making you moan again.
“Monsieur Neuvilette, Are you feeling better now?” you ask feeling his fangs sit along your boobline. He does not bite. He never does yet you find yourself crawling back to those evenings when he would keep you in his embrace, let his teeth touch your skin whenever he kisses you. He is cautious around you. You do not understand why he is like that even though there is no risk if he crosses the line more than that. Your relationship with the iudex is ambiguous at best, but those little moments always come back to haunt you. He has never fucked you before; sure there were intimate moments but never went to the point of sex. It is frustrating at times given he has confided so many things in you.
Neuvillette mouth pauses, hung open around your boob.He does not answer but rather poses a question.“Why did you come here again?” You recall having a need to visit him to submit some papers and also, to get some official papers signed by him. You wince as his tongue lapped over one of your wounds. “Remember. You asked for this.” He states before taking your nipple in his mouth, pulling it away by holding it with his lips. He is careful not to let his fangs touch, not to get swayed by desire.
You do not deny any of it. It is true that you came to visit him during his rut when he strictly forbade you do so. Not only you but it is forbidden to visit him in his inner chambers for a certain time span once or twice in every month. Curiosity got the best of you, and the pressure of piles of papers had you totally forgotten about this rule. Breaking rule in Fontaine is not tolerated at any cost but perhaps once the chief justice regains himself he might punish you; maybe he is already doing it.
“I know. I’m aware.” You exclaim and he holds you by your waist, curling his arms around them letting his eyes fall upon you. They seem to sparkle or maybe it is just the lightning. “I’m just a beta. There is nothing to worry about of we … if we.”
Such a naive little thing you are. You stutter to say the very thing you wanna do. It makes his stone-cold heart warm. “You know nothing. But need not worry, I’ll give you a taste of it,” he whispers in your ears before focusing on what he was doing before. Your innocence tempts his desires so much. You try to laugh it off but then he says, “The rumours, they are not just rumours. Rumours grow when some of it is at least true, won’t you agree?” He arches you a little to align his cock with your entrance. You do not resist as he pushes his cock inside you.
The tip of his cock hits deep inside you as his knot starts to mature making you shut, tears pooling at the corner of them. His palms latched around your waist and they almost covered your whole waist now. His touch is cold, slippery, and wet. Neuvillette starts to make you bob up and down his cock as his cock grows inside you. The scales on his arms which you have so longed to see before were now slowly developing. He was transitioning. You want to see him but something blocks your eyes. It is not his hands, they are on your waist. A rumor that is shaping into a reality.
You moan and whimper as you feel another orgasm approaching. You can feel his high emerging too but you can not see. Your eyes are wrapped with something but you can not focus on what it is because his cock is hitting your sweet spot with so much precision that all the pain you have endured so far is now becoming pleasurable. Hot spurs of liquid shoot inside of you while his fangs sink at the dip of your neck, biting and sucking your blood. You can feel it. The flow of your blood from your vein to his mouth. You can even hear him gulp. You think you are going to lose consciousness but you did not.
You can see him now. His true form is in full glory. “You’re mine now.” He exclaims letting his tongue clean the blood over your neck as he twirls and swings his tail. “It will take a while for me to get back to my human form. You can rest now.” he says, guiding your head along his nape as he keeps himself busy licking those two symmetrical wounds clean. It does not hurt, nor sting. Maybe it is him who is healing it.
#neuvilette x reader#neuvilette smut#neuvilette x you#neuvilette x y/n#genshin smut#genshim impact#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#genshin x female reader#genshin x f!reader#genshin x fem!reader smau#genshin impact smut#fontaine#fontaine x reader#gi x reader#gi x you#gi smut#gi fanfiction#genshin impact fanfics#smut#smut fanfiction#neuvillete x reader#cw monsterfucking#tw monsterfucking#monster x human#monster x female#monster x fem!reader#dark content cw
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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
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“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.
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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.
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#fontaine x black reader#john boyega smut#x black oc#black oc#smut masterlist#masterlist#black!fem! reader#black!reader#black reader#black writer#black fanfiction#john boyega#they cloned tyrone fanfic#they cloned tyrone smut#tyrone x reader#smutty#henneseyhoe
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Hi! Can you do a Wriothesley x Bunny! Fem! Reader? I don’t mean the reader as in being an actual bunny but has the attributes like one. Like having a tail and the ears like one. This is kinda like a Wolf boy x Bunny girl thing.
Breaking my back just to know your name- Wolf!Wrio x Bunny!Fem! reader
Well somebody told me, that you have a boyfriend
T/w- Jealousy, bunny reader, wolf wrio, reader gets hit on, reader gets anxious,
Summary- Someone starts to hit on you, what will wrio do.
A/n- I haven't written for a hybrid reader before, so If this is shir just let me know and i can try can.
Navigation
Taglist form!
A couple like yours in Fontaine was far from normal, and people despised the duke for dating someone of your type. You two managed to get by fairly well, but sometimes people did not know when to leave you two alone. People constantly asked if you were okay, like as if he had forced you into this, but one person took it too far.
“So you single?” A man with a build similar to Wriothesley’s approached you. “You do look too cute to be single, especially with those ears sweetheart~ Now tell me your name~.”
You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation. You sort of froze up and your mouth dried out, causing this man to take your silence as an invitation. “I-I have a boyfriend.” You were almost shaking, just barely holding it back.
“Oh sure sure, I've heard that so many times before.”
The one-time Wriothesley wasn’t all over you, you got hit on. Your ears began to fall flat against your head and he lent to pat them. You started to shake and freeze up, you didn’t like being touched by other people. Well, ones you didn’t know anyway.
“You haven’t said no yet, sweetheart. Oh does that mean you’re enjoying it?” A big smirk fell across his face.
“S-stop, please.”
“Oh come on darling~ that wasn’t very convincing was it?”
Then another man came up behind you wrapping his around your waist and pulling you in close. “I believe she said stop.” His voice almost came out as a growl.
You could recognise that voice anywhere, it was Wriothesley.
“Chill out man, I was having a joke.” The man let go of your eyes and slowly backed away, looking at Wrio like he was the monster.
“I don’t think she liked it very much. Did you love?”
Your voice was soft and scared. Wrio was always quite protective of you, but now he was angry. His ears were pointed straight upright and his teeth were bared. His tail intertwined with yours pulling you more towards him. “N-no..”
“See. Now piss off!” He barked.
After the man retreated he pulled you into his chest. “Love… I’m sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.”
You hugged him back, hoping to give both of you some type of comfort. He seemed to understand you didn’t really want to talk right now.
“When we get home I’m going to cuddle you much. You didn’t deserve that, I’m just thankful he didn’t go further.”
You nodded while he placed a kiss on your neck. His favourite spot to kiss.
Taglist
@pandragonsoul
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin#fluff#angst#genshin angst#fem reader#x reader#female reader#wriothesley fluff#wriothesley#fontaine#wriothesley x you#wriothesley oneshots#wriothesley x reader#wolf wrio#bunny reader#wolf!wrio#bunny!fem!reader
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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.
#they cloned tyrone#fontaine#fontaine x black reader#fontaine x reader#tct#black reader#fontaine smut#john boyega#x black reader#x black fem reader#x reader#they cloned tyrone x reader#tyrone x black!reader
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Is He Gay?
[Lyeny x fem!reader 🪄]
part 2
“Have you girls heard of the new gossip going around?” Your friend—Alice—asks excitedly.
Another friend—Maria—responds with equal energy, “Are you referring to that gossip?”
Alice squeals, “Yes! That new gossip!”
You look between your two friends with concern but also curiosity, “Did this gossip by chance erupt from the Steambird again?”
Maria shakes her head and tuts, “No, no! Though it might actually catch a publisher's attention soon enough. It is strange how they have yet to write about it though…”
Alice nods her head in agreement, “That is very strange. They are usually very fast when it comes to trending gossip.”
You huff in frustration, “Ok we get it, the Steambird is behind for the first time since its founding days. What’s this gossip???”
Your friends giggle at your frustration before looking at you with excitement. Alice quickly responds cheerfully, “This new gossip is about whether or not the Great Magician Monsieur Lyney is gay!”
You deadpanned, “This is the new trending gossip???”
They gasp in surprise at your lack of surprise. Maria asks in a concerned tone, “Aren’t you even slightly curious yourself Y/N?”
You cross your arms and ask seriously, “How the heck did this even start??? What about him began this whole circulation of his sexual preference??”
Alice grabs her fan and begins to fan herself quickly in disbelief, “Oh my archons, it’s everything about him of course!”
You raise a brow, “‘Everything’ you say? Enlighten me.”
Your friends look around before leaning over the table in a totally not suspicious manner. Alice whispers quietly, “Have you noticed the way he behaves? He is very friendly with the male audience during his performances!”
Maria also quietly chimes in, “His outfit is also very…interesting. No man in Fontaine dresses as exotically as he does!”
Alice adds to her previous comment, “There have also been rumors suggesting that maybe he is bisexual. He may be nice to the male audience but he is also quite suggestive with the ladies!”
Maria nods enthusiastically at Alice’s claims. She adds on to her comment, “Or maybe he is being suggestive with the ladies to hide any evidence that he is gay?”
Alice squeals, “Oh my you are probably onto something Maria! Don’t you think Y/N?”
You had a look of disappointment and deadpanned, “Is he not allowed to be friendly with the audience he is entertaining??”
Your friend's excitement was now washed over with an unamused expression. Alice whines, “Why can’t we be allowed to entertain the possible idea that he could be gay!”
You shrug, “I just find it disrespectful to make assumptions about someone’s preference without gaining confirmation from them.”
Maria pouts, “You know very well that we are unable to approach him! Security is too tight and surely he will run away from us thinking that we are deranged fans!”
You mumbled quietly, “I wouldn’t blame him for thinking that…”
Your friends gasp and Maria cries, “I heard that! Oh you wound me…!”
Alice pretends to wipe away a tear, “And here we thought you would understand us Y/N. How dare you make fun of your dear friends!”
You chuckle at their antics, “You girls can stop exaggerating now.” You place your hands on the table and quickly change the topic, “But seriously how is his attire and behavior weird? He is a Magician after all. He is supposed to be ‘other-worldly’ or ‘magical’.”
Maria replies, “Ok that is a very fair argument.”
Alice nods, “I also have to agree that you made a very fair point.”
You hum happily knowing you managed to win, “Shall we continue with our tea time?”
Alice looks at you curiously, “Before we do that, are you . you're not even just a little bit curious—”
Maria gently slaps Alice’s head, “Ok maybe we should actually drop the gossip for the day~.”
You all chattered and had a wonderful time and began to part ways, promising to schedule for another tea time whenever time permits. As you walk around the streets of the central city, you begin to see many people huddled together whispering among themselves.
You could make out bits and pieces of their conversations as you were casually walking around…
“Hey have you heard…”
“Well he does have an exotic attire…”
“I heard that he gave the traveler a rainbow rose!”
“He is very touchy with the audience…”
“I saw him giving a lady a hug…”
“Maybe he…”
You begin to zone out and walk aimlessly as you begin to process the conversation you had with your friends and what you are hearing from the people around.
‘Is he gay…?’
You quickly caught yourself and shook your head furiously and mumbled, “No, no. Don’t let the gossip get to you. Lynette would be the first to know then me and Freminet…”
‘But what if…?’
You grab your head and groan, “For the love of the Hydro Archon! Ughhhhh! Don’t let their gossip get to me, I beg of you Hydro Archon!”
‘Then again, Lady Furina would absolutely love this gossip and also demand answers….’
You quickly left the city, unable to handle all the crazy variations of gossip being spewed at every corner. You find yourself outside the walls of the city and sit by a ledge and admire the view of the open waters.
You felt at peace and in control. The wind gently swayed your hair and provided a comforting chill that you gladly welcomed while watching the birds play and fishes swimming about. The quiet noise of the waters rushing ashore then back to the ocean was also another relaxing variable.
You leaned over slightly to see your reflection in the water and admired it momentarily before your attention was snatched away by a fish that poked its head out of the water before quickly hiding again after being caught by you.
You giggled at the sight before heaving out a long sigh of relief. You had failed to notice someone approaching you with mischievous intent.
The figure slowly crept up behind you and gently tapped your left shoulder. You were caught off guard and quickly looked back to see who disturbed you.
“Bonjour mon ami! Enjoying the peace and tranquility?”
You sigh and go back to looking at the open waters of Fontain, “Mhm, I just needed to get away from society for a bit.”
Lyney tilts his head before asking, “Why is that? Anything unpleasant happened today?”
“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say unpleasant. It’s just ridiculous gossip going around and it’s just…”
Lyney hums, “it’s just…?”
You shook your head, “Really just dumb gossip that I could not handle. If I were to stay any longer, I too would’ve been part of the mob.”
He chuckles, “Was it that bad?”
You looked back at him with the intention of answering back but you zoned out very quickly. You began to wonder,
‘Do I tell him about what people are saying about him?’
You could see that Lyney gave you a concerned look.
‘Maybe I shouldn’t. It’s his life, not mine.’
“Are you ok?”
“Are you gay?” You blurted out.
Lyeny now had a very shocked look and you watched as you slowly began to process what you had just said.
Your face becomes flushed in embarrassment and quickly defend yourself, "Please ignore that! I didn't meant for that to come out, I–"
"So you were thinking if I was gay?" He asks in an amused tone.
"No-! I mean yes–! Wait no I–!"
You covered your face with your hands in shame. You groaned and refused to meet his mischievous gaze.
Lyney laughed heartily to your embarrassment. He wrapped his stomach with his arms as he hunched over, "Where did you get that assumption from~?"
You groaned, refusing to face him and tell him how you even stumbled upon this idea.
His laughter finally dies down. He wipes away a few tears before placing himself next to you on the ledge and grabs your left arm gently, "Look at me please~?"
You remain stiff and mumble quietly, "No…"
He sighs before removing your left hand from your face and cupping your face with his hands, forcing you to look his way.
You kept your eyes shut, stubbornly refusing to see his face. Lyney chuckles, finding amusement towards your behavior before he leans forward slowly…
You felt something soft touch your forehead which made you flinch at the unexpected feeling. You slowly peeled your eyes open, wondering what was touching your forehead and why Lyney had become quiet.
"Hey, what are you–"
You see Lyeny leaning over to your forehead giving it a gentle kiss. You quickly pulled away and your face immediately plunged into a deep shade of crimson.
You place your right hand onto your forehead and attempt to form a normal sentence but ultimately fail miserably.
Lyney flashes you his signature charming smile, "Does that provide an answer to your question~?"
"Huh…?"
He pouts, "Seems like I need to be a bit more upfront about this. Hmmmm, what to do~?"
Your mind was all over the place trying to make sense of the whole situation. Lyney could tell that you were caught off guard and still processing everything.
Lyney smirks and removes his hat and places it in front of you, "Look inside my hat, it's empty right?"
You snapped out of your trance and looked inside of his hat. It was indeed empty and you nodded silently.
He flips his hat before placing it upside down again and peering inside, "Oh it seems like there's something inside!"
He quickly places his hand inside and pulls out a bouquet of rainbow roses. He offers it to you and winks, "Let's go out on a romantic dinner date at Hotel Debord. You'll find the answer that you seek there~."
#genshin impact#fem!reader#fluff#romance#18+#comedy#crack#genshin impact lyney#lyeny#lyney x reader#lyney x y/n#fontaine#teyvat#oneshot#adventure#lyney and lynette#freminet#friends to lovers#genshin fanfic
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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
#john boyega#they cloned tyrone#fontaine x reader#imagines#fontaine smut#they cloned tyrone smut#they cloned tyrone fanfic#Spotify#John boyega smut#they cloned tyrone imagine#ari lennox#smut#John boyega x reader#tyrone x reader#fontaine x black!reader#black!reader#fem reader#fontaine x black reader#They cloned tyrone black reader#They cloned tyrone fem reader#tyrone x black!reader
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HI HOW ARE YOU??! I saw that you were allowing requests so how about a fluffy scenario with Neuvillette and fem!reader if possible. I FINISHED BOTH QUEST AND HE SUCH A SWEETHEART💖💖💖💖 that’s all have a nice day/night
Ribbons and Bows
warnings, none !! just spending time with neuvillette and doing his hair 🙈
note, I WANT NEUVILLETTE SO BADDD ☹️
"Though I am not sure why you would want to do this, go ahead," Neuvillette says, his mesmerizing purple eyes with slit pupils fixed on you. With a hairbrush in your hand, your heart races in anticipation, excited and giggly at the prospect of styling his unique hair.
"Yes! Okay okay, come sit down right here for me," you say, leading him to a luxurious chair placed by the window. Sunlight filters through the delicate curtains, casting a gentle glow upon Neuvillette's long white hair, which shimmers like a cascade of moonlight. As he settles into the chair, his elegant demeanor exudes an air of mystery and allure.
You take a moment to appreciate his beauty before focusing on the task at hand. Running your fingers through his silken strands, you feel a slight shiver run down your spine as his hair tickles your skin. Neuvillette's presence is captivating, and you can't help but become completely engrossed in the moment.
"Have you ever done something like this before?" he asks, his voice soft and soothing, like a velvet whisper.
You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "No, but I've always wanted to try. Your hair is so unique, and I think I have just the idea to make it even more stunning."
He chuckles, a sound that sends a delightful tingle through the air. "I trust your judgment. Surprise me."
With newfound determination, you begin your task. The hairbrush glides effortlessly through Neuvillette's hair, untangling any knots with a gentle touch. As you work, you can't help but notice how his features soften, his guard lowering with each stroke. It's as if this simple act has created an unspoken bond between you, a connection that transcends words.
During this process of you doing his hair, you and Neuvillette talk about many things. The latest gossip within your friend group, Neuvillette's patience with Furina running thin, and just about anything else really. You two even managed to sneak a few kisses and touches throughout the process.
Hours slip by unnoticed as you carefully weave in delicate blue and purple ribbons, accentuating the natural beauty of his hair. Neuvillette watches you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his lips curving into a genuine smile that warms your heart.
"Done," you announce, stepping back to admire your handiwork. Neuvillette rises from the chair and gazes at his reflection in the mirror, his eyes widening in astonishment. The ribbons blend seamlessly with his hair, adding a touch of ethereal elegance that enhances his otherworldly charm.
"You look so pretty! Do you like it?" You questioned watching Neuvillette admire your work.
"You've turned me into a work of art," he remarks, his voice tinged with genuine gratitude.
"You were already a masterpiece," you reply softly, meeting his gaze in the mirror. In that moment, the world fades away, leaving only the two of you in a realm of shared intimacy.
As the sun sets outside the window, casting a warm glow over the room, Neuvillette turns to face you. Without a word, he reaches out and takes your hand, his touch sending a spark of electricity through your veins.
"Thank you," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours, an unspoken promise of more shared moments to come.
"No, thank you baby! I never would've expected you to let me do this." You smiled and stood on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek.
𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭 😞 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐘 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!
𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
#spirits works 🤍#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin imagines#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x fem!reader#fem!reader#fem reader#genshin x female reader#x black reader#genshin fontaine#neuvillette x you#neuvillette genshin#genshin impact fluff#genshin
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' Waiting for me ' ~ Diluc x reader
context: diluc gets home from working at the tavern all day to find you awake waiting for him <3
tags: fluff , heavy nsfw , diluc x fem!reader , cvm eating , sex ,
! inspired by Vulpine Voice Diluc audio on yt !
starts under the cut , enjoy . (MINORS RESPECTFULLY DNI)
the air is still and silent as diluc walks home . the streets of mondstadt deserted since nightfall . the sound of his footsteps echo as he takes a shortcut through an alleyway .
eventually , he reaches his house , hoping to find you sound asleep in his bed .
he unlocks the door as quiet as possible , and kicks his shoes off . walking into the bedroom he notices youre sat up in his bed , still awake .
" darling , what are you still doing up ? " he rushes over to you and holds your jaw as he kisses you " is everything okay ? "
you put your arms around him and kiss him back , deeply and passionately . the room goes silent for a moment while you kiss , " y-yeah i was just worried "
" worried about what , sweetheart ? " diluc breaks away from the kiss and walks over to the dresser and takes off his work clothes . he takes a tshirt and some underwear out of his dresser and begins getting ready to slide into bed with you .
" i dunno.. i was .. just scared- it got late and i- "
when diluc finishes getting dressed , he walks over to you and puts his finger over your mouth , " shhh~ its alright "
at this , you get all flustered at this sudden affection and stop worrying about him .
" took a lot longer to close the tavern tonight , couple things i had to take care of . dont worry your pretty little head , honey , im okay "
he gets into bed next to you and gestures for you to lie on top of him , to which you gladly obey .
now , he senses that youre more relaxed . you put your head on his chest as he starts stroking your hair .
" you do anything interesting today , my love ? " diluc inquires , cuddling you lovingly .
" not really , did my commissions then that was about it ... visited Wagner a few times to see how my new polearm is coming along . "
" oh ? and hows that going ? "
" its looking pretty good ! its gonna be finished in around 3 days or so ... "
diluc loves hearing about your day , and you love hearing about his too .
" how was your day , love ? " you look up at him and kiss his neck as you ask .
" eh , just the usual . pretty boring actually " he sighs .
you stay silent for a moment then you sit up on him , straddling his body .
" is that so , huh ? " you bite your lip and run your hands along his toned abs .
" is my darling feeling needy , hm ? " he puts his hands on your hips , " i think thats just what i need right now~ "
he speaks in a low and sexy tone , almost purring out his words , in such a seductive manner . his voice never fails to turn you on . the vibrations of his low tone linger in your core for a moment as you surpress a moan .
you smirk and began grinding your clothed cunt on him , feeling his dick get hard inside his boxers .
" ill make you feel good~ promise~ "
diluc lets out a stifled moan as you grind on him , giving him that friction that he needs .
you take your shirt off , revealing your bare tits . diluc reaches his arms up to fondle them , and play with your nipples . you moan at the lewd touches from your needy boyfriend .
you start to grind faster , both of you begging for friction , feeling so riled up in the needy situation you were both in .
" oh my love , my beautiful girl , take your panties off for me~ thats it . niiiice and slow~ " you slide your panties down slowly and teasingly and you look half lidded into his desperate eyes , " fuckk- thats a good girl~ "
you feel his dick getting harder underneath you , so you tug at his waistband . you look into his eyes for consent , to which he nods . you first take off his shirt then get to work on his boxers .
" mhh~ thats it , love . thaats it~ "
when you slide his boxers off , youre met with his pretty dick , so hard and dripping already for you .
he breathes heavily in anticipation as you position yourself over his dick , your cunt already being wet enough for it to slide in .
" slowly , yeah ? " he whines as he tries to keep his composure .
" ill go nice and slow~ " you put his throbbing tip at your entrance and slowly sink onto his dick .
you moan loudly as his length stretches you out , he strokes your thighs to reassure you, " no rush , sweetheart. youre doing so good~ "
when youve fully adjusted , you begin moving up and down slowly . at this , diluc groans as your soaking cunt slides up and down his length .
" f-fuck- mhh- " he whines at this immense pleasure hes feeling , " ah~ keep going love~ "
you start to move a little bit faster now , your cunt and his base slapping together makes such lewd noises , you cant help but moan .
" ah- let me get on top of you " he whines .
he lifts you off of his dick and places you underneath him . hes quick to slide back inside of you .
he starts fucking you faster , as his breathing becomes more and more irregular ,
" a- ah- keep going diluc~ " you squirm under him as he fucks your pretty cunt faster , pushing you both closer to the edge .
" oh love- im close- "
he continues fucking you closer and closer as he too approached his orgasm .
" fuck- y/n- im gonna cum- "
he fucks you until you cum , and lets you ride out your orgam , your chest rising and falling as you scream his name ,
at this , diluc quickly pulls out and cums on your tits , he lets out a low groan and tries to calm himself down .
" such a good girl arent you~ " he sighs in pleasure as he looks at your tits covered in his thick cum .
he leans down to kiss you , while playing with your tits which were dripping with cum , " mmhh~ " you whimper into his mouth as you feel his fingers slip over your nipples so easily with the extra lubrication .
he breathes heavily as he swipes across your chest with his finger , collecting some of his cum and puts it inside your mouth . you willingly suck his finger clean and swallow his cum .
diluc hums out in pleasure as you suck his finger , biting his lip . you sit up and kiss him , making him taste his own cum . this lewd action causes him to roll his eyes back and kiss you harder .
" oh , darling , this is just what i needed~ " diluc continues kissing you and swirling his tongue around in your mouth , " lets get you cleaned up , sweetheart "
he was still breathing heavily when he walked to the bathroom to start the shower .
dilucs aftercare is always so soft and sweet and it makes you weak to know he cares so much~
" we can shower together if youd like ? " diluc stands leaning on the doorframe , the light of the bathroom behind him highlighting his toned figure beautifully .
" mm~ yeah " diluc walks over to you and picks you up in his arms , you lean into his touch and kiss his collarbone . he carries you over to the bathroom , where he puts you down . your legs feel unsteady and weak after diluc had fucked you .
" you okay ? " diluc holds your waist to steady you and stop you from falling . you nod and he helps you get into the shower .
he first gets under the shower , letting it drip down his body . then , he offers you his hand , and you get under the hot water with him . you almost moan as you see all the cum on your body getting washed away .
you decide to pick up the loofah and some soap and begin washing dilucs pretty body .
" mm, thank you love " he smiles as you start washing his body . you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him and he hugs you lovingly .
once you were both all washed up , he wraps a towel around you and dries you off . then you return the favour by drying him .
you always find it so cute how sleepy diluc gets after sex , makes you wanna just hug him so tightly and drift off to sleep with him .
diluc picks you back up and put you in bed next to him , the silky sheets covering your bare body as you cuddle up to him . you stroke his hair as he begins to fall asleep , his head snuggled in your neck .
#genshin#genshin impact#diluc ragnvindr#diluc smut#diluc x reader#genshin smut#genshin imagines#genshin diluc#diluc x you#kaeya alberich#kaeya#scaramouche smut#smut#indie smut rp#fem reader#xiao x reader#genshin venti#fontaine
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First of all Happy New Years and how’re you doin?? I really hope you’re doin well and thriving and your loved ones are doin the same❤️
Second of all I had a thought while high that I needa get out:
Imma mess for domestic Taine. Just takin care of his woman an shit. He likes takin care of her mental load and just truly makin her feel relaxed an shit. Which brings me to his hands….he’s so beefy wit protective ass arms and he’s just ugh🤌 like imagine you had a trash ass day (school, work, family, etc) an he just caresses and massages you, tryna soften you up so youn gotta gts upset or stressed. Lights candles, brings out ya favorite oils/lotions, he even rolls a blunt for you both. He’s givin you deep tissue booty/thigh rubs and ik for a fact his strength channeled through his fingers would make me all mushy an shit….
Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit. That was a mistake because now he reeeally can’t help himself. You’re all pliable under him and he dips his fingers into ya folds “just ta taste” he tells himself. But he’s dippin into you again…and again…and again till he just says fuck it and devours you from the back. I’m talkin the messy, droolin, beard shiny a shit typa pussy eatin. You just cease to exist cuz he feels too too good. Taine is just maneuvering/manhandling your body any which way and you’re loving it, you’re loving your man. And What were you upset bout again? It’s out the window now.
Phew, glad I got that outta my system🤭
Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and ya fam! I'm getting over Covid. That is the literal devil and I'm glad to be on the other side!
And secondly...why you aint on here writing with the rest of us? Tuh. This was hot and complete all by its lonesome, you don't need me for this one, lordt!
Re-reading and re-reading all night because I, too, want that gorgeous man's big mitts on me.
If You Please
Word Count: 691
A/N: Finally a little drabble! I still write a lot but ya'll caught me on a feral night. There's no big warnings besides oral (fem receiving) and Fontaine being a horny mess. This ask was everything. Not sure if you wanted me to add to it, but couldn't help myself! Excuse me while I go re-read and re-read and re-read.
Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide
And Fontaine is the type to take his time because HE wants to take his time. Because HE can't keep his hands off of you. If you had a bad day? That's okay, he'll work that shit out. Had a good day? He wants to pick you up and taste the happiness from your lips.
But a particularly bad day? Oh, he already had the bath running and candles lit while you talked to him on the way home. How you wanted him to show up with a helicopter and transport you home because you were dog tired. Tiredt!
And after your bath, he does all the work. He dries you off and lays kisses all over your face and body while he towels you down. Leads you to the bed where he lays out a fresh warm towel from the dryer. Makes you lay on your back first so he can rub lotion and smell good into your deep brown skin.
Take his time to work the body cream onto your arms, shoulders, stomach. Smooth it around your breasts because he just can't resist touching you. He rubs the top of your legs, really working his thick fingers into your thighs and finding all these tension knots you didn't know were there.
Then he asks you to flip over and you are putty in his hands. Free to mold you in his arms. To play with your hips and valleys and treasure the canvas God gave him. He rubs your back and your legs. But your ass.
Fontaine is an ass man. Nothin' sweeter than seeing those two big ol' cheeks begging to be claimed by those hands of his. It's so much he can't hold it all. But he loves trying. He loves trying to cup each cheek to see how much he can hold before your ass spills over. He loves to massage your ass.
He loves to watch the grooves and dimples he makes in your ass. The little glimpses of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks are a torture all their own. Got him bricked up and mouth droolin' just from that alone. His tongue glides over his golden grills as he can remember the last time he ate you out, just last night. How pliable and verbal you were.
One little taste won't hurt right? It's your body, he wants you to feel good all over. What better stress relief, right? He wipes his hands on the towel. He can't resist digging his fingers in and suppressing a groan at finding you wet as hell. He knew his hands on you turned you on, but not like this!
Now he really can't resist bringing your sweet essence to his lips and licking his fingers. He can't stop at one taste. Once he tasted you, he had to keep diving in for more. And more until you were sighing and moaning just the way he liked.
"Too tired," you mumbled.
"Too tired to lay there, mama?" He asked.
You couldn't argue with that logic. He didn't need anything back. He just wanted to make you feel good. Making you feel good, made him feel good. And he already got his reward. He was lifting your hips, spreading you wide, and placing his mouth against your pussy and suckling like a starving man to nectar.
He couldn't help groaning and rocking his own hips into the bed, wishing he could flip you over and fuck you. But he wasn't going to be that greedy. He could give. He could give and give until you were a shaking, trembling mess beneath his tongue. Hands splayed on your ass, spreading you open and wide for him.
His nasty little slurps filled the air. His desperate pulls for air blowing against your dripping pussy. Your weak arms grasping the pillow and pulling it close while you came in his mouth. Gushing and dripping all that succulent arousal.
Well, you weren't that tired anymore. As much as you left your job bone tired and weary, unsure how you could possibly go another day, you always found solace in 'Taine's arms.
The Secret Tyrone Files - there's always more!
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Tyrone Files#Fontaine x Black!reader#Fontaine x Black reader#x Black reader#Fontaine x Fem!reader#Fontaine x Fem reader#Fontaine x plus size reader#Fontaine x you#Fontaine imagine#They Cloned Tyrone smut#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction#They Cloned Tyrone fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction
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Winter With Fontaine
The feeling of your finger tips dusting cinnamon and sugar away from his lips is just as addictive as all the sweets you make. He also takes his baking assistant duties very seriously, everything must be tasted.
Despite the chill that overtook most during the winter season, he was shocked to see you get a near boost from it.
He loves the excuse to put his cold hands beneath your big-ass sweaters, holding onto you as you squirm and squeal.
Helping you deliver scarves, hats, and socks that you've begun knitting/gathering up to those who need them. Fontaine discovered that he likes giving gifts to the elderly the most.
Winter used to be bad for him. Cooped up in his darkened home, kept at bay from his only family by a single door. Cold from the drafts he never bothered to fix. Now he is excited because your home has become a winter time oasis, filled with warmth and new beginnings.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
He woke to the feeling of your icy little feet sliding back into bed. He tucked closer, pressing his face against the softness of your breasts and inhaling the warm vanilla. He curled up and around you, throwing a leg over for good measure.
"Who said you could leave the bed?" He could feel you laughing as your arms came around him, "You took my heat, woman."
Your answer was to pepper his face with slow, soft kisses until the frown on his face turned into a sleepy pout.
In this little wonderful space of calm, the sounds of rain and wind dancing outside his window, Fontaine hoped you knew he loved you before slipping back into sleep beneath your lips.
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
"You're still laughing."
"I have been sitting here in literal silence."
"I see it in your eyes."
A snicker rocketed out of Fontaine's mouth and your whined, trying to move away from where he was so tenderly disinfecting your knees.
"Don't be like that, I fell too, baby!"
"Yeah, 'cause yo' ass was laughing so hard at me!"
There you were, trying to mind your business and be a good girlfriend to take out the trash! Then an ice patch purposefully formed right in front of your trash can.
One minute you were admiring the frosted branches, the next you were on your stomach Family Guy Style both of your knees on fire. Before you could clear your dizzy, you heard a terrible yelp and the ground near you shook as the love of your life slipped and fell right onto his ass.
And here he was again, laughing again in your face. You tried to repress the urge, but the memory of seeing Fontaine lift his head and look around as if he were pushed...
You curled in on yourself, holding in your snickers as best as you could.
"I should be the one up on the sink, g'damnit. Fell all on by back an' shit, trying to make sure yo' lil' ass was okay." Fontaine shook his head and went back to dabbing your knees.
"You did fall kinda hard, didn't you?" You straightened back up with a sigh, "How fast were you walking down the stairs, anyhow? You should know better when it's icy like that."
Fontaine's head tilted to the side and he stared up at you so miffed that you lost it again. He slapped on the band-aids and began packing up the first aid kit, only adding to your amusement.
"My black ass was only out there 'case someone just had to take out the trash! What do I tell you?"
After tossing the first-aid kit beneath the sink, he put his hands on either side of you. All trace of humor has left his face and to anyone else, he would have appeared thunderous.
You hopped off the sink to go toe-to-toe with him, wearing your own sneer.
"I couldn't leave it, I was the last one to stuff something in it!"
"What do I tell you, woman?"
Fontaine was now nose to nose with you. The sudden eye contact was going to trigger your giggle and the fucker knew that was the only way he could win.
"You claim...that bad things happen when I take out the trash."
"You got chased twice. By the same racoon, mind you."
You took a deep breath to extinguish your laugh, hiding your smile behind a dramatic frown.
"Way to bring up my trauma. Why don't ya just tell me to stay in the kitchen and make sandwiches while you're at it?!"
Fontaine's expression rippled, you nearly had him, "Women ain't supposed to take out the trash, I been told you that. It's bad luck!"
Your expression slipped at his theatrics and you couldn't catch it. Fontaine broke quickly after with a snort. Your own chuckles flowed out and you eventually admitted,
"I was scared of that raccoon, though. That's why I only take the trash out in the daytime now."
Ever the gentleman, Fontaine turned away but you could still see the bastard's shoulders trembling in the mirror.
"Baby, if you could have heard the-the way you said--
You already knew what he was going to bring up your panicked cry of old and you confirmed,
"It came straight at me!"
Fontaine laughed. Folding over you so you both leaned against the sink. You laughing into his crewneck, unable to stop yourself from hugging him. If he laughed like this every day, you'd get chased down by every raccoon in the Glen
In there, that small upstairs bathroom with the loose tile, with the snow falling steadily on the world outside, you understood devotion.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.
Together you sat on the front porch of your home. It was getting rather chilly, but Junebug insisted that you 'witness greatness'.
"Our block's kids got winter beef with the kids a few blocks over, 'specially with Maeve's boys." You explained to Fontaine who only got up to make more hot chocolate.
It was rather great, though. Once school was let out, it was like a great battle of old. Next Block Kids vs. June n' Da Gang. Snowballs and kiddie curses went flying, but by the time Fontaine returned with enough hot chocolate for a hockey team--a truce was reached.
You passed out the mugs together, enjoying the sounds of the tired but delighted little warriors that defended your home turf. Fontaine tucked you closer to him, pressing a kiss to your temple.
He looked as happy as you felt, watching as one of Junebug's friends gleefully broke the peace treaty by shoving snow down one of Maeve's boys pants.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
end notes: thank you for reading! I needed to get this out to make room for my other fics lmao.
Tell me what you think! (More to come? 🫣)
#fontaine x black reader#fontaine x blackfemreader#they cloned tyrone#fontaine#i had to get these out so i can focus on other things phew#they cloned tyrone fics#winter fics#most likely more coming lmao#fontaine x black!fem!reader#fontaine x fem!reader
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Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Make Me Remember-♡
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Neuvillette x Fem!Reader
Chap/Part 1
Synopsis ♡ Waking Up in an Alleyway behind a Fontaine Building you find yourself with a blurry head and no remembrance of who you are, or what your name is, it is up to you to find out who you are once again, but a man you bumped into filled you with a alluring, familiar presence.
Content Warning ♡ Memory Loss, Angst (Partial, No Comfort.), Immortality, Rebirth, Potential Smut, Fluff.
> Prev '' Next <
"Wake Up."
A sharp pain jolts through your body, each nerve feels like it's been stabbed and probed at, as your back felt inflamed and extremely cold as your eyes are blinded by the small light peeking in the alleyway onto your body. For a quick second you saw a calming light. But then your surroundings are starting to become clear around you. There was a tall building with nice white walls with tall blue, glass embedded windows that created reflections on the sun-rays. It was all you could really make out at the moment as your body felt heavy and lifeless almost impossible to move a single limb, your muscles completely locked in place. The only movement prominent on your body was your chest. Slowly rising and falling as you took deep breaths. After a little bit of struggling and pain you manage to move your head to see a giant wall next to you, accompanied by a rather neat garbage bin with trash bags inside. You attempt to move the rest of your body and eventually your body starts to regain its movement.
Crawling over to the big wall, you put your hand on it, lifting yourself up. Your knees were a bit wobbly as you took a few steps, almost like a baby learning its first steps. You let out a little grunt as you managed to fully lift yourself up, walking out of the alleyway.
As soon as you walked out you were immediately blinded by the beaming sun which instinctively caused you to hood your heavy eyes. You could see a bunch of stores lined up with different things in sale, with citizens dressed in fancy dresses and shawls either traversing the paths or observing some stores. You were only wearing a dirty T-shirt, and some black sweatpants causing you to get some looks. You unhooded your eyes letting your eyes burn and get used to the light sun, which they quickly did as you managed to look more out into where you were. In the distance you saw this weird rotating circle, almost like a statue mechanism. It looked something like a plaza with a weird building you couldn't even describe close to it. You suddenly tried to use your brain but to your surprise.
It's almost like your brain was just off.
No matter how hard you tried your brain couldn't mutter up a single memory, leaving you confused and tired... "Who am I..? What am I..? WHERE am I?" The only words that rung in your head. You couldn't even remember what your name was. You slowly walk up to one of the glass displays of the stores and look at your reflection. You had e/c eyes, and beautiful h/c hair. though no recollection of why you looked like this, who were your parents? Stepping back from the glass you attempt to put your mind at ease as you decide to walk up to one of the citizens. It was two girls. One wearing a nice pink dress with a stylish pink summer hat, the other wearing a pink tutu looking dress with a pink shawl wrapped around her neck.
"Hello.." You mutter out trying to grasp the two girls attention. They both raise their heads up, looking directly at you and your clothes. "You poor thing. You look quite dirty, do you need some mora?" The girl with the pink shawl asks. Her tone was very concerned and caring as she noticed all the stains and the eye bags present. "Some mora..? Mora..? What's mo- oh.. Sure I could use some. But I also wondered.. Where am I?" Both girls looked at you with bewilderment as you asked where you were. One of the girls takes 100 mora out and gives it to you. "Hun.. You're in Fontaine..." The lady responds. The name rings in your ears. Almost like a familiar name..? "Fontaine.. Okay.. thanks for the mora.." Both of the girls nod their head, concern still etched on their faces as you walk down the street.
A sign that says "Bakery." On it with other lettering had a nice smell of freshly baked goods. You decide to walk in and see some nice seats with a bunch of people sitting around eating some Croissants, and some Croissant au chocolat, With some beverages, mostly which seemed to be tea. You walk up to the register where an old looking lady was running it. She started fondly at you. "Well hello there dear, what may I get you?" The old lady had a certain charm that brought you a strange comfort. "Is there anything here that costs just 100 mora?" You had quite the embarrassed look. Everyone seemed so rich as you walked in with just 100 mora to your name given to you by two strangers. The old lady simply looked at you for a good second before going in the back.
You put your head down in shame and defeat as you decided to just walk out the door. Before your hand can touch the handle to leave the old lady called out to you. "Miss.. Don't you want to eat and drink?" You turn around to see the old lady holding a plate of Macaroons, Croissant au chocolat, and some freshly brewed tea on the side. The smell was just as good too. You go up and hold out your 100 mora to the lady. She suddenly grabs your fist and gently closes it. She was trying to give it to you for free.
"Your fragile bones, The eye Bags, Your clothes, your struggling dear I see this, now please.. eat." The old lady pleads. And you don't have any objections as you gently take the tray with the Croissant au chocolat, and Macaroons. The old lady points to a seat, as she places down your tea. You sit down placing down your tray. It doesn't take you long before you start digging in.
Not even 10 minutes later you completely wiped the food up, No crumb in site. A small chuckle was heard from the old lady as she was observing you eat the whole time behind the counter. She scurries over and picks your empty tray and tea cup and quickly makes her way to the back. Not even a moment later she comes back out. "Dear, do you have a place to stay..?" You zone out thinking for a moment. Even if you did have a place to stay you couldn't remember. The only memory was you waking up in the alleyway. "No." You answer to the old lady which makes her quite amused. "I was expecting... Feel free to nap at this table for now." You perk up, you were quite surprised she was just letting you sleep in her establishment but you weren't quite complaining as you put your head down and shut your eyes.
It almost felt like your body was floating. Around your body you felt this almost comforting, familiar feeling of a warm hug. Like claws were wrapped around you, protecting you.. You suddenly look up to see you were in this pitch black space. Behind you in the distance was a blue glow. It was your first dream again. Maybe it could show you a memory.
Carefully you sneak over to the blue light. Under was a small note. It was a map with this writing on top that said "Fontaine." It was a map of Fontaine. No names were present on the map. Just illustrations. One place caught your eye as it had a blue circle around it. With the text next to it "FIND HIM." The building was actually labeled "The Palais Mermonia." On the back side of the map some writing was there. It was smudged but readable.
"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, Make Me Remember."
"Wake up dear." Your heavy eyes feel only a little lighter as they shift open to see the moon glaring through the bakery windows.. you quickly jolt up. Already forgetting what you dreamed about. "How long have I been out..?" The old lady let's out a slight chuckle. "Quite a while. Now about you needing somewhere to stay." You immediately dismiss her. "I think I'll be fine. It's no trouble." The old lady closed your eyes. "Do not be stubborn. I see in your eyes, you are looking for something.. I wanna help." Your eyes widen. Does she know?
The old lady suddenly gets up and walks out the door which you quickly follow behind her. "Um..? Am I supposed to follow you. If so, where are we going?" The old lady nods. "We are heading to my home so you can get some proper rest young lady." This is happening too fast.. a random lady now leading you to her home? You felt this strange comfort around her. But still no signs of your memory.. you dreamed about something but it became a blur. "Do you know..?" The old lady stops in her tracks, she seems to be listening to your words. "Do you know why I can't remember anything?" Your eyes were almost pleading for answers. It took a few seconds before the old lady responded. "I was unaware you lost your memory till right about now. But there must be someone here who can help you unlock the memories of your past once again." The old lady hummed happily as she continued to walk to her residence. You stayed behind her, walking but let what she said ring in your head. You don't remember what happened but maybe you can find someone who does.
The sudden noise of something unlocking made you finally snap out of your pondering. The lady was unlocking the door. She waved you to walk in which you obliged.
Her house was very vintage looking. With some rustic couches and coffee tables with a fairly nice kitchen, although way more old looks then how the outside of the house looked. "Apologies if it's not the best of houses. I'm not used to visitors." You nod warmly, dismissing any concerns she had. You noticed the rug and even the doors somehow looked old. With the rug having nice patterns as the doors were a nice oak color.
"Why did you bring me here.. so fast? You must know something." You started to demand a little. You wanted answers why this was happening. Instead the old lady handed you a cup of tea. "Dear I do not know anything about your memory but when you walked in I sensed something special within you." The old lady suddenly puts her hand over your heart which causes you to flinch a little bit. You look down at her hand, the strange comfort spreads through your body again. "Your flinching at a simple gesture. You're really lost all of your memory dear.?" The old lady seemed pretty concerned as you nod. She rubs your back as you take sips of your tea.
"Dear do you at least remember your name?"
"..no.."
"Then I think it's time you get a new one.."
(⸝⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝⸝)
Please No Stealing! <3 I'm only on Tumblr - Azeria
#fontaine#neuvillete x reader#genshin impact#neuvilette genshin#neuvillette#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette smut#neuvillette angst#neuvillette fluff#fem reader#x reader#genshin x reader#writers on tumblr#angst#fluff#strangers to lovers
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Missing Pieces : Fontaine x f!Reader
Summary: After supposedly returning from a shooting he can't remember, Fontaine's memory seems to be a little jacked as something doesn't feel right. He sits down with Slick Charles, trying to connect the missing pieces in his daily routine, while everyone tries to explain to him that someone's missing...
Warning(s): Violence, Angst, Amnesia, etc.
It was loud, it was close, almost like it was right in front of him.
BANG!
A gun shot rang out.
Fontaine's eyes burst open, he sits up with a startled breath, almost choking on the first gasp he lets out.
Putting a hand against his chest, feeling for the indent of a bullet hole he was sure had gone through him at some point. But there was none, only the raised scars from a few mishaps or scuffles with any dumb motherfucker that used to try him. The ghost of pain was strange, as he shook himself out of his slumber it quickly settled and numbed to nothing. But it wasn't really even a memory, a nightmare?
He'd gotten shot before, never flat out in the chest like he'd felt when he got up. Somehow, he imagined it would've felt differently. But, then again, it was only a nightmare.
Fontaine ran a hand down his face, sighing heavily. The nightmare faded from his mind, he couldn't even remember what it was about, but it had left him shaken.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he seemed to wait for something, looking beside himself to see if anyone were sleeping at his bedside. It was empty, the other side's cover tucked tight.
Brows furrowing at the weird feeling that the morning had already brought for him, Fontaine huffed out a breath and stood, preparing for his day.
He got dressed, throwing on the white sweatshirt and a pair of worn down jeans, as he pulled them on, he caught sight of a silver chain on his dresser, a threaded cross at the end.
Walking over to it, he took it and looked it over, it was unfamiliar to the eye but he could've sworn at some moment he had probably worn it, or he had seen it on somebody else. He pockets it, leaving the room.
Outside, he meets up with his boys, the gang crowding at the corner, waiting on him. On the front yard, Fontaine lays on the lifting bench, putting an ungodly number of rusted plates on the bar before pressing the weight with no assistance.
The two other swole muhfuckas huddle around him hyping him up, throwing insults to goad him to a few more lifts as he nears his next rep, "One more! Weak ass nigga!" Fontaine huffs a puff of air, muscles flexing as he lifts another. "One more!"
"Hey Fontaine!" Junebug yells as he runs over, a Caprisun in his grasp.
Fontaine racks the weight with no problem, sitting up, he looks to the kid as he stops in front of him with a toothy smile, looking around. "Where she at, man?" Junebug asks, suddenly looking disappointed.
Fontaine raised a brow, before standing taking his jacket off the ground, "What you doin' here, Junebug?"
"(Y/n)," the kid says, "Where she at, huh?"
"I ain't got yo' babysitter, lil man." The name sounds familiar for a split second, until it doesn't.
Junebug frowns. "Did you get in a fight again?"
"What the fuck you talkin' bout, Junebug? I dunno no bitch named..." he pauses a minute, catching sight of a car, a 1975 AMC Pacer, a dark yellow color. It was parked up down the block, just behind his Pontiac.
Ignoring Junebug's nonsensical questions, Fontaine turns to Big Moss, who holds a handheld fan to his face, "Yo' nigga, who car is that?" he points to the Pacer.
Big Moss looks over, squinting a bit, "Ain't that yo' honey's, mane?"
"Ma' honey?" Fontaine made a face, clearly the only person lost here. "The fuck you on?"
The rest of the gang around made sour faces, some clearing their throats and turning at the suddenly uncomfortable conversation, attempting to nosily mind their businesses. "Not no mo', I guess," Big Moss says, awkwardly. Clearing his throat, "It's cool mane."
"The fuck--" Fontaine's interrupted.
"You and (y/n) ain't together no mo'?" Junebug looks disheartened. "What you do?"
"Ya'll niggas crazy, I ain't know no bitch named (y/n)--"
"Fonnie..." a gentle whisper in his ear startles him. A woman leans in close to him, he feels her hands drag up the side of his torso and up his chest from behind, hugging him close for just a second...
He turns quick.
His eyes instinctually cut to the yellow Pacer at the corner of the street as he finds no one to blame behind him. "Crazy..." he repeats, maybe about himself.
Fontaine decides to get in his car, driving to the liquor store. He buys a lotto and a routine bottle of Anaconda Malt Liquor. As he unscrews the cap, taking a swig, he hopes for a buzz or a sense clarity that never hits him, maybe it was time for something a little stronger.
He scratches the lotto, and the same outcome taunts him back with a 'You Lose' in bold. Tossing it to the ground, he walks back towards his car, coming up towards Frog, the homeless old man that always had some riddle to say. And he didn't disappoint. "Lovin' n' holdin an' they just takin' n' stealin', ey youngblood?" Frog says, holding up the styrofoam cup as Fontaine pours a good bit of the liquor to his cup.
"Yeah, Frog," Fontaine sighs, used to the nonsensical jabber. "Yeah."
Leaning up against the side of his car, he takes a drink, before reaching into his pocket, pulling out the chain he'd found in his bedroom earlier. He brings it up to look closely, in some way he recognized it, but not enough to recognize it as something he'd worn in the past few days or even months.
As he holds the chain, he notices a smear of red along his finger, rubbing his thumb at the stain on the silver, rubbing off the red. He stares at it on his fingers, he recognizes it to be lipstick, a soft red shade.
Even more confused, he huffs out a breath, but he holds the chain tight in his grip, trying to think of any moment in time that he could've possibly been given it, or anyone that could've left it. He hadn't let anyone in his house in a while, let alone his bedroom, the last woman he had slept with had been...fuck when was the last time he'd gotten laid?
For some reason, he was convinced it wasn't as long ago as he thought.
He gets in his car, driving back towards home.
That's when he catches sight of someone. At the end of the street, a black man in a white sweatshirt limps down the road, his chest stained with red. He's on his knees, curling his arms around someone, dragging the person onto their feet, but they're limp in his grip, dead. A woman, jeans wet with blood and knit sweater falling off her shoulders torn and smeared with red. She's pretty, gorgeous even, from what he can see from here.
The man struggles to stand to his feet with her again, his shoulders shake from the effort or from the angry sobs that wracked through him. Fontaine can see that every movement is agony, he watches as the man hacks up a mouthful of blood. He'd been shot too.
As he hacks up a lungful, the man's eyes flicker up to see Fontaine driving past. They look at one another.
And for a moment, Fontaine sees himself. Literally. His hair, his eyes, his clothes even which he was wearing at this current moment. He forgets he's still pressing on the gas when he loses sight of him.
Fontaine stomps on the brake, stopping the car, he looks to the rearview mirror, quick. When did he start breathing so heavy? It had to just be a coincidence, just a trick of light or of his mind. That can't be him.
Interrupting his thoughts, a black van drives into the area, nearly clipping the Pontiac as it swerves around the corner and towards the couple.
"NO, NO, Nooo! NO!" the man even sounds like him..."Get the fuck away from us! Get the fuck off--! No!" he's cut off by the slamming of the car doors, muffling his screams and driving off quick.
All that's left of them is the red stain against the cement.
As he makes it home, trying his best to forget about the strange event, Fontaine pockets the chain he forgot he was still clutching.
He makes a sandwich, cutting it in half, he walks to his mother's door and knocks, "Mama, you hungry?"
She answers. "Nah, I'm good, baby. Josephine had a fish fry last night, I'm still full."
He walks away from the door, covering the plate for later and making another sandwich. He must've blanked out because next thing he knows he's making two new peanut butter sandwiches, cutting the crusts off one of them absently. Slowly stopping, he places the knife down, confused with himself.
He takes one of the sandwiches, sits down on the couch and turns on the TV. As a poorly filmed commercial starts, he swipes his malt liquor off the table and takes a swig. "--Gon getcha summa dis here limited-time-only Hotbox Spicy Chicken! Cause remember, who needs all these vices when you've got all these herbs and spices--" the narrator continues as folks dance after every bite.
A commercial he's seem about a hundred times, before another came on about perm cream.
Fontaine zoned out, chewing silently on his sandwich, wondering why everything seemed so off today. Who was (y/n)? Did he just imagine seeing himself today? Who's fucking chain was this?!
He tosses the chain across the table, it hits a box of pizza that halts its slide to the floor.
That's when he noticed the pizza box at the table, eyes narrowing as he quickly thought of someone. Slick Charles. "Motherfucka'..." he stands and takes his keys off the hook.
---
"You saw me, what?"
"Die, muhfucka!" Slick Charles repeats with an agitated yell. "I saw you and yo honey!"
This is the second time someone mentioned his 'honey'.
"I'm clearly not dead, nigga, where's my money?"
"There are more pressing issues to discuss here, nigga!" Slick Charles backs away from Fontaine, looking around his chest for bullet holes, anything to declare the man, undead. "Look if you don't believe me, we'll get, Yo-yo! She'll know, she done lef' around the time you came in, alrigh'?!"
Fontaine glared at the pimp, before rolling his eyes and exiting the hotel to make his way to his car, Slick Charles following. For some reason, his mind drifted to earlier that morning, seeing the couple, covered in blood and dying on the street.
Finding Yo-Yo about to sell some ass for a $50, they interrupt the transaction, getting the sassy prostitute in the car, clad in a fur coat and yellow boots, she sneers at them both. "Ya'll owe me, 50!"
Fontaine gets to the point, hushing the woman. "I need to ask you somethin'," he begins. "You seen me?" he asks, tentatively, almost in a whisper. Asking meant admitting to some degree that he thought he was actually dead and had come back. In some way, that would explain his very realistic nightmare.
"Not like that, nigga..."
"Nah, I mean...you seen me?" he questioned again, quieter this time, serious.
"Yes, nigga, I saw you," Yo-Yo admits, truthfully. "And wasn't (y/n) witchu? I ain't seen her, she ight?"
Slick Charles leaned back in his seat, remembering seeing the young woman in the car before the shoot out started. "Aw no," he whispered.
Fontaine glanced back at the pimp, confused and angry. "Who the fuck ya'll talkin' bout, man? Who's (y/n)?!" he hits the steering wheel, tired of the day, and the dumb shit that's been getting to him lately. "What bitch ya'll think I'm fuckin' with, huh!"
"Well ain't she give you that?" Yo-Yo pointed to the chain on his neck. The cross he had tossed and decided to take with him, he had just absently put it on, almost out of instinct.
"You know who's this is?" Fontaine held the cross up to her face.
"Uh, yeah, nigga, what's wrong wit you?" she gives him a distasteful look.
"Who?!"
"(y/n)!"
"You--"
Slick Charles slaps down a polaroid photo on the console divider, "So you tryna tell me, you don't remember her?"
Fontaine looks down, choosing to ignore the change in tone, Slick Charles has his pointer finger in the middle of an unfamiliar photo, he picks it up. The car is dead silent now as he holds it up to his face, luckily he had parked under a street lamp, providing him a little light to see.
Fontaine's eyes widen as he sees her fully for the first time. (Y/N).
They're frozen in time in the photo, in a paused state of a love he couldn't remember. She presses a smooth kiss to the side of his face, he wraps an around around her waist, pulling her into his lap, his expression was softer than normal despite a lack of a smile. But he wasn't looking at his lips, but the way he'd leaned into her, held her close, he'd never done that before, always keeping his distance from any actual relationship that he recalled in his life.
So this was (y/n)?
He felt he would've remembered someone like her. Why didn't he?
"Remember 'er now?" Slick Charles asked.
"I'm gon' need you to tell me what exactly you saw last night," Fontaine's eyes flickered to Yo-Yo, he's gratefully for how dark it is, he had a feeling now that he had seen her today, drove past her, let someone take her away. What the hell was going on?
---
There was an elevator that led down under the Glen, this tiny town was somehow apart of an entire experiment, for what? He didn't know.
But, it seemed to involve him. Involve you. And involve all the people of The Glen. And if he wanted to know why he seemed to have died late last night, he needed to find out what exactly was going on.
Luckily, he had some help, although he would've preferred a smarter duo, he was stuck with them.
As Slick Charles held his gold gun up to the pale-skinned scientist with a clean shaven afro, giggling and spasming seemingly uncontrollably, Fontaine made his way around the lab.
Yo-Yo began to mess with a few of the strange sets of chemicals within the lab, taking notice of the lack of experimental subjects: like mice or even rabbits, nothing. She tipped a beaker, blew on the white dust, she supposed was cocaine and swirled a bit of a blue liquid in a test tube.
Fontaine found two surgical tables, blue sheets over each figure that seemed to lay atop the metal slabs. Not a single breath moved through the sheets, nothing to signify either one was alive.
He moved one sheet first, it was you. (Y/N)...
And everything suddenly started flooding back in waves.
"Wake up..." she breathes, tapping his cheek as she yawns against his chest.
"I'm awake..." he responds, tiredly.
"No, you're not," she grumbles, before sitting up a little. The movement coaxes him awake, his arm pulling around her shoulders tighter to get her to lay back down.
"Be quiet," he pulls her down on him, she chuckles, conceding.
He scoffs out a humored hum, turning over her, they drift off for another hour or so, awakening to kiss the other. He's leaning over her, the chain she had given him, swinging in front of her face, hanging off his neck.
Fontaine notices it, taking it off in that moment and placing it on the dresser, "No, hey, that keeps you safe," you protest as he moves to shift between your legs. "Don't take it off, Fonnie."
"Yeah, well right now, it's distractin'," he squeezes your thigh, bringing one of your legs over his right shoulder. "I'll put it on later, if you're so worked up bout it."
"Ok, ohh--k, yeah..." he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, letting you take hold of a handful of his locs, your nails running through his scalp in a way that just told him to keep going. "Fon'..." you gasp as he cups the skin of your ass to move down lower, greedily.
After another hour of consuming the presence of one another for the morning, you both move through the day as you usually would. Fontaine would bench press a few reps with guys, you would start making campaign flyers for the protests during the week. He'd leave with Junebug later unbeknownst to you and deal with an amateur dealer that made the dumb decision to sell on his side of the streets. When he comes back, Fontaine and you would head to the store together, he'd get his usual Anaconda Malt Liquor and you'd usually go for a Moscato if not a pack of swedish fish. Pass by Frog for another daily lesson in senile obscurity and pour him a cup.
Heading back home, they'd have breakfast together, sometimes you'd make eggs and bacon, other times Fontaine would make the only thing he really knew how to which were peanut butter sandwiches. You hated the crusts, so he'd always cut them for you. You'd call him soft and he'd sit pause mid-way to let you finish yourself in bitter defiance, to which you'd quickly take back your statement. "Wait, wait, I'm kidding," you laughed. "Come on, finish, you cut them the best! Fonnie!"
"That's all you, baby," he took a bite of his. "All you."
"No, I'm sorry, please, please," you begged, wrapping your arms around him to pull him back to the kitchen. "Come on, Fonnie--"
"How many times I gotta tell you to stop wit' that, Fonnie shi', huh?"
"But I thought you liked it when I called you, Fonnie?" you teased with a smile.
"Fonnie sounds like a bitch, I ain't no bitch."
"You're my bitch though," you cackled.
"Whatchu say?" he turned, surprised at the answer. And you took off running. "Naw, bitch, get your ass back here, whatchu say!"
"Nothing!" You laughed as you ran through the house away from him. "I'm sorry!" you put your hands up as he grabbed at you, the two of you soon enough laughing together.
"Getch your ass back here!"
Later in the day, Fontaine recalls the customer dealings of his business, remembering that Slick Charles still owed him a pay day since last week. Fontaine got to his feet, took his keys, and you accompanied him into the pontiac, tapping the insignia on the hood of your Pacer car parked behind.
Driving off, the two of you enjoyed a moment with each other, you leaned over the console between you both, singing to the song on the radio. "I need a hug...I need a hug..." you nuzzled your face against his shoulder.
"You need to be quiet," he snickered, emphasizing 'Need', glancing over to you as he drove, one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh, and you just kept at it.
He finally parked up by The Royal, a hotel across The Glen, where he knew Slick Charles would be. "Stay here," Fontaine said before leaving the car.
You roll down the window, sticking your head out to wave towards the pimp as your boyfriend forces his way into the hotel room. "Hi, Slick!"
"(Y/n)! Why you ain't tell yo' violent ass nigga to show some goddamn muhfuckin' respect!" he yells mostly towards Fontaine, who glowers at him in return, threatening to punch him right in the grills if he don't keep his mouth shut.
You duck back into the car, choosing to let the two men figure their shit out, instead opening the windscreen, watching as a photo fell out to your lap. A little picture of the two of you, you recalled the day, you'd only been officially together for a few months at the time, but you were happier than ever.
Looking up you take notice of another photo, of Ronnie, you had never met the boy, but you had always wished to, knowing what had happened to the sweet kid, always made your heart clench with tears. You pressed two fingers to your lips and to the still frame of Ronnie, breathing sadly, in some way you felt you knew him, maybe had met him, caught glimpses of him in the street when you were younger.
A beep is heard, startling you to drop the polaroid of you and Fontaine, it slips between the seats and you curse, "Shit, ugh," you glare back at the car that had stopped behind the Pontiac, before driving driving again. "Motherfucker!" You sneered at the driver, who just kept his windows up, music blasting, glass shrouded in smoke.
Fontaine soon returned to the car, pocketing the fraction that Slick Charles had made, not enough to fully pay him back though. "You ready?"
"Yeah, I--" then you saw the same car rolling backwards, coming to a slow park just behind the trunk. But, it was the man walking up to Fontaine's side of the window that really terrified you. "Fon--!"
He turns a little too late, "GET DOWN!" just pulling out his gun when the window shatters, the car being layered with bullets, the young man on the other side frantically emptying the clip. The click of an empty magazine is the only thing left to hear besides the bass drum of the radio of the assaulting vehicle.
The young man stumbles backwards, stuffing the weapon into his shirt and racing into the car for a getaway, as the car speeds off from the scene, Fontaine takes a shuttered breath. Blood spilling from between his lips, his hand achingly coming up to feel the holes that had ripped straight through him.
"(Y/n)..." he heaved out, he turns his head as much as he can, every movement a strain on his failing organs. "(y/n)..." he said again, hoping you'd say anything. "Say somethin'," he huffs out, panicked. Say you're ok. "Say it..." he breathes. "Say it..." he repeats as he struggles to breathe, hoping he'd live a little longer to get some fucking help.
He reaches for you, his fingers inching towards yours, but you were already gone.
And then that's when the van comes around. A few men, white guys in black suits wrapped in plastic, gloved hands and unbothered looks as they swing open the car door. "Woah, he's still alive," Fontaine hears one of them say. "Do we still take him?"
Who the fuck were they?
Obviously they weren't police, or ER, or even some random passerby's.
"Won't last long, so yeah," another says, opening up the opposite door. "Not sure about this one though." He was talking about you, Fontaine was sure.
Fontaine blinked, blacking out a moment before breathing harshly once, as if his heart had stopped in that split second, he was somewhere else now. Suddenly, he had been hauled into the van.
"Guess we'll just have to wipe the next one till we can get a copy going, right?"
"Dunno, we've never had to do that before. Damn, this is going to be a lot of paperwork," the white guy sighs out before turning you in your seat, Fontaine finally gets a good look at you as he lays there trying to keep his eyes open. Your sweater was drenched in your blood, and probably a bit of his, the side of your face wet and broken up from the bullet through your temple. You had died as soon as it happened.
Fontaine felt his heart drop, blood filled his throat and he choked on the feeling, but he wasn't sure if it was from the heartache or the puncture. "...'er go..." he gurgled out, eliciting the attention of the disturbed men around him.
There was a pause. "Was that you or him?"
"Well, it wasn't me..." one of the collectors said.
"Let 'er go, muhfucker," Fontaine managed.
They had begun to drive, going around the corner and away from The Royal motel.
"Shit, he really is still alive," the white man gapped, but he still began to haul you out of the car. "We're not really supposed to talk to y--" then there was a gunshot.
Startling all of them as the man that had begun to unceremoniously strap you down to the metal, fell back and too his knees, silently. A bullet between the eyes. The van swerved in the mens sudden panic.
Fontaine had still had a hand on the handle of his gun all this time, the only issue had been getting the energy to pull the trigger. And he let his hand go around to pull again on the white man that moved to pry the gun from his grip, "No, stop!" the collector had shouted, but the gun went off again, this time right through his hip. "Ahh!"
"Oh, shit! Hey, get up!" picking his co-workers up off the floor, "Get the hell out of here, we'll send another unit!" the only uninjured stranger hauled the others into the van as Fontaine stumbles out of the car taking you with him, trying to get a locked eye on the last of them as they drive off and away from the scene as if they hadn't even been there.
And so, Fontaine sat on the curb for a moment, holding you tight, wondering if anyone else would try to just snatch them off the street again. He watched as the van drove off fast, he wondered why they had bothered to do all of that. To kidnap him off the street, as if they had known exactly who he was, where he would be and that he'd be shot. What did they mean by make a copy later?
Fontaine swayed, wondering how he had even lasted this long. He let his head settle against yours, he wished for the little snore of yours that would usually coax him to sleep. He recalled the first time you had fallen asleep against him, the first time he caught himself falling asleep next to you. Pretty much the first of any time he had let anyone catch him slipping.
And he waited for a single breath to slip from you, to bring him even a sliver of comfort.
But it never came.
Even in the early morning, when he found himself staring into the eyes of...himself? Driving by in the very same car that had been totaled to shit in the parking lot of The Royal motel.
Even when the same black van swept by, turning to haul the two of them up off the street and into the van. They don't let their guard down like the others, and he breathes for the last time in that van, holding tight to your hand, just before they pull you both apart.
- - -
It's not a memory that he can grasp onto, because it's not his to have. Just a copy of moments he's never lived.
And they flood his mind.
Fontaine leans over your dead body that laid on that cold slab of metal, the familiarity becoming knowing, absence of memory becomes an overflow of moments he knew he hadn't lived but he could still hold onto.
As the labs alarms go off, he takes you into his arms, ready to take you out of this horrible place, get you some place warm.
Something the previous version of him, hadn't been able to do. But, he was pulled to do the same as his previous self had tried for you.
"Come on, I got you," he spoke, miserably.
It was like speaking to a lover he had never had. But it was also like losing one he had never said goodbye to.
"Come on, please," Fontaine undid the straps, pulling the plastic sheet laid across your naked flesh. He shivered, you were cold, "I've got you," he stares down at the floor as he holds you in his arms. Memories still flooding his mind, sensations, sounds and feelings only a single version of him had experienced, and it wasn't him.
But he still knew he had loved you.
Slick Charles and Yo-Yo pull him from the lab, the alarm sounding loudly, meaning whoever owned this place would be on their way, forced to leave you on that metal slab, next to the original version of himself.
Fontaine was on that elevator. But, a piece of himself stayed down there, and he'd be back to find it again.
"Believe us now?" Slick Charles spoke the question almost sympathetically.
#fontaine#fontaine x reader#they cloned tyrone#they cloned tyrone x reader#fontaine x black reader#black reader#x black fem reader#they cloned tyrone fontaine#fontaine x black!f!reader#fontaine x f!reader
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♡⠀⠀syn. in which your beloved spends his time pampering you in the boutique, in hopes of spending his time only for you.
♡⠀⠀cw. fic is sfw, overall pure fluff. wc 1.1k, fem!reader (no pronouns mentioned)
fluorescent lights radiate the room in a gentle ether, lucent dresses lavished every crevice of the boutique, rivulets of jewels dribble down the fabrics of gowns dangling down the clothes rack bathed under the cordial evening.
fontaine’s weather forecast was as precarious as ever, sporadic rainstorms enveloping the region in endless meadows of saturnine. today, though, was an exceptionally beautiful day, the sun rays gliding gently from one aperture to another. as evening drifts tranquilly, the citizens of fontaine cannot help but ponder,
what has made the hydro dragon so at ease after the endless downpour?
“neuvillette! take a look at this azure-colored gown!”
a succulent voice echoes through the wide blue yonder, lambent orbs admiring a certain gown.
the iudex of fontaine takes a step further to scrutinize the dress his lover has been eyeing on. the dress consists of an ocean-colored gradient, a scrupulous mixture of pearly white and azure, resembling the impeccable sight of a frothing ocean. jewels alike to hydro visions were wreathed around the waist sections of the gown framed with golden embroidery.
“would you like to buy this one, then?” he asks with benevolence.
beside him stood you, hands clutching on the silky skirt of the gown. stupefied upon his generous offer, you tilt your head faintly.
seldom it was to have your bien-aimé by your side striding around the court of fontaine, you insisted him to pay a visit to the well-known chioriya boutique. due to the case of clandestine felonies mounting the fortress of meropide and countless trials occurring, it was impossible for neuvillette to take a day off, even if it was just to see your face.
“you insist?” you questioned back, feeling a tad bit guilty.
neuvillette courses his nimble finger across your jawline, a loving smile graces his lips. “of course, i’d purchase the most lavish jewelries, or dresses if it’s for you, mon amour”
this. this was the reason why you fell for him. while he keeps dour exterior around people, he never forgets to dote on his dearest; simply, you. even melusines find you endearing, it is obvious that neuvillette loves you very much. he’d pamper you with all his wealth possible for the sake of your profuse luxury.
you pondered as you hum, tapping your chin comically, “very well, i’ll put this dress on my list first. i’m considering in ordering a custom selection anyway”
following your blithesome steps, neuvillette’s forehead creased, “oh? you should’ve told me sooner that you wanted a custom design”
“i can do it myself, so i don’t feel like being assisted” you simpered, pacing to a certain section where toques, bonnets, and various kinds of headpieces were displayed.
you inspected the hats before firmly grasping a cerulean berret, gently placing it on your head, “isn’t this perfect for outings? maybe lady furina will like the aegean shade pieces!”
“to be sincere, i’d rather see the berret being worn by you only. it feels imprecise to see something so apposite for you being worn by someone else” he says rather bluntly, extending his hand to primp on the lopsided berret.
“oh? well aren’t you selfish fellow” you shrugged, a flush creeping up your visage as you attempt to feign nonchalance.
dexterous with his words, neuvillette never fails to faze you with his silver tongue, spilling out words drenched with affection whilst plastering an indifferent guise. how can an individual act like that after speaking such utterance capable of thawing even the iciest depths of wintertide? nevertheless, you musn’t be swayed by those words, so you simply said,
“then i’d like to purchase this berret, monsieur neuvillette”
neuvillette’s lips twitched upwards, scoffing, “and what’s with the honorifics now?”
“and i would like two, one for me and one for lady furina” you added, raising your fingers as a gesture of the quantities you desire for the berrets.
“shouldn’t the aegean shade berret be for me instead, if you were to purchase two?” neuvillette winced.
“well i promised lady furina if i were to stop by i would buy her a hat”
“...do you not feel constrained by lady furina? you are aware that she can purchase it by herself, right?”
“good heavens neuvillette, have some empathy for once, would you?”
neuvillette suspires, ceasing his protests. to this extent he infers that you weren’t going to let up, not even once. his eyes, however, tells otherwise—twinkling with endearment. and as promised, he purchases the berrets for you, which costs around three thousand and five hundred mora each (quite pricey, but anything for you, he persists)
leaving the shop, the previously peach-colored dawn faded into a pink and purple hue, its previous orange luminescence turning more vibrant than its previous appearances during the day. with your cerulean berret placed on top of your head, and one tucked inside a shopping bag, you hummed in content; hands intertwined with neuvillette’s.
“so you are still going to give the hat to lady furina?” neuvillette exhorts, voice laced with envy.
“do i have to repeat what i said just a few seconds ago?” you muttered, shooting a glare.
“well if you insist,” neuvillette pauses, slipping his arm around your waist, a shade of crimson tinting his cheeks was omnipresent. “if i can’t have the berret, don’t i deserve a kiss instead?”
your body was jerked back within the tug of his hands towing you closer in his wake. and instead of leaning in for a kiss, you whispered to his ear, lips close to the shell of his ear, “out of all places, you ask this type of offer right here?!”
“i don’t see a hindrance to do so, or should i seduce you into doing so?”
you stammered, awning his lips with your hand, “t… that’s not what i’m referring to!”
“i see, i should do that then” he smiles coyly.
“h— hey!!!! neu. villette!!!” the second part of your reply was whispered in frenzied whispers as you struggled to extricate yourself from the iron grasp his foolish arm held.
with that kind of grip caging your body, you are no longer safe from his temptation.
© yjisms , 2024 do not plagiarize
reblogs n likes r appreciated, consider supporting me by following to tune in for future updates <3
#neuvillette#neuvillete x reader#fluff#genshin x reader#genshin impact#fanfic#fontaine#neuvillette x you#genshin x you#fem reader#yj⠀﹐⠀‹𝟹
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FONTAINE!!! AHH!&!&!1 IM SO NORMAL ABOUT FONTSINE..,.,,, AAAHHHHHHH OH. THE FONTAINE SIBLINGS??? I LOVE TJEM ALL AAAGGHHHHHHH LORD 🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇🙇
oh my gof they gave me so much strenght to finished the archon quest in just a day and write a silly little /p or /r scenarios abot themz,,,, UGHUWUWGSUUSHS
PLS HWLP ME PICK THESE THO🧍 IF U HAVE ANY OTHER SUGGESTIONS/REQUEST DONT BE SHY TO TELL ME THRU THE "ASK ME ANYTHING" STUFF 🫶‼️‼️
#—kyos rambles#—kyos writing#fontaine#lyney#lyney x reader#lyney x male reader#lynette#lynette x fem reader#lynette x reader#freminet#freminet x reader#freminet x gn reader#fontaine siblings#genshin fanfic#genshin imagines#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin x reader#genshin fontaine
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