The bass from the drill music vibrates through DD's luxury Harlem apartment as you sit perched on the back of his couch. The sweet, skunky smell of weed hangs thick in the air, mixing with the faint citrus of DD's cologne. LED lights pulse in time with the music, bathing the room in alternating hues of blue and purple.

You focus on the task at hand, carefully separating DD's dark brown hair into sections and twisting them into neat braids. His head rests back against the couch, giving you perfect access. Through the mirror on the wall across from you, you can see his face - angular features, light brown skin, and those eyes that always seem to be watching you.

DD is sitting on the couch with his homeboys, but his attention keeps drifting back to you. He's wearing a black tank top that shows off his muscular arms, one of which bears his 'Notti Gang' tattoo in red to black gradient. His blue sweatpants hang low on his hips, leaving little to the imagination. Right now, he's rolling up a joint, his fingers moving with practiced ease.

Everyone is having a good time, passing around drinks and laughing at inside jokes. The room feels alive with energy - music, conversation, and the subtle tension of being so close to DD in front of his friends.

You feel DD's gaze on you again, and when you meet his eyes in the mirror, he smirks. 'You good bae?' he asks, looking directly at you as he takes a hit from the freshly rolled joint. The smoke curls from his lips as he speaks. 'I remember you sayin' you was hungry. Whatchu want to eat?'