Need Kenma Breathing In My Face Telling Me To Relax Bc Weve Been Cockwarming For Ten Minutes And Im Bout

need kenma breathing in my face telling me to relax bc we’ve been cockwarming for ten minutes and im bout to lose it.

brain on ten right now. slumber party podcast is getting finished today bc the dialogue hit me in the shower

"That it, Bossman?"

Chile, I been gone so long, I'm just gonna post and go.

Series Masterlist

Taglist [OPEN]: @prettyvintageafternoon @zennydaye @lalaooopsie @leahnicole121919

Rating: Pg-13

Warning: naughty dreams, cursing, obsessive Bruce Wayne

She’s been haunting his mind ever since that meeting. This was an outcome even the greatest detective could have predicted. Morning, noon, and night, her visage ghosted around the empty halls and intersections of his mind, interrupting his day to day thoughts with a coy smile and trail of department store perfume.

The growing desire to jolt his head up and scour his surroundings every time he heard her laugh was getting hard to control. His heart couldn’t cope with the delusions of his mind. Everything reminded Bruce of her. 

Torture sessions replaced his sleep schedule. After his patrol in the dank underworld of his city, Bruce would return home to his estate, shower, then sleep. That’s how it’s always been since he became Batman. Injuries and catastrophic events would interrupt this routine, of course, but Dove ripped it to shreds. His silk sheets buried him like waves, drowning him until the oxygen in his lungs were depleted and the hallucinations started.

“Bruce…Bruce...please Bruce,” It always started with pleading. The begging in her raspy tone would be the initial strike, the first nail in the coffin. 

Brown skin, gleaming with sweat, shining under the spotlight. Her marks and moles painted illustrations on her skin, something that his mouth wanted to trace to perfection. Her body twitching, bared and naked for his eyes only. The images were overwhelming. 

“Touch me, Bruce. Please.” The fingers, smaller and more delicate than his, cleaner than his could ever be, blessed his rosy skin with featherlight touches. Moans flooding his ears, taking over his senses. 

“Touch me here, Bruce.” After the second request to feel her form under his fingertips, he would always wake up tangled in his bedsheets. Even in his dreams he couldn’t take the plunge. It felt wrong somehow, his morality had drawn the line in the sand. Searching up personal information on the batcave’s computer system was one thing, touching dream Dove was another. 

Breaking into the security feed of a small ethnic grocery shop that sold a specific brand of popsicles he found in Spinelli’s shop one night after an uneventful patrol? 

That toes the line.

But ultimately, could be overlooked. If anyone asked, and no one could or ever thought to question the respectable Bruce Wayne, a casual remark about the growing diversity in Gotham City would explain his sudden detours to that side of town. No one could fault him for being curious.

Especially when the curiosity paid off in the board meetings. Everyone fawned over his dedication to creating strong cell towers throughout the city. No one needed to know that Bruce only discovered the discontinuity in connection strength by dealing with the five second lag he experienced watching closed footage from his batcave. 

Today was like any other day. Waking up from a dream that left him unbearably hard in his silk pajamas- an issue he would have to address in his morning shower-, completing his tasks at his company, shaking hands and making deals with Gotham's elite. A simple routine he’s followed for years. But now comes with a twist. 

“I think I’ll go visit that deli again for lunch. Want something, Fox?” The older man shifted his focus from the prototype blueprints on his desktop to gauge his boss’s movements. Swift, everything Bruce Wayne could be studied and classified as efficient. He never moved excessively or put in more work than required. A trait few picked up, fortunate for him or else everyone would see him for what he really was.

A walking contradiction.

“That little shop off Westward? Isn’t that a bit out of your way, Mr. Wayne? We need to finish these plans as soon as possible.” Lucious reasoned. The small food court within Wayne Towers had more than enough options to satisfy the evolving palate of its well traveled owner. 

“I won’t be long. I’ll bring you back those snack cakes you like so much.”

Bruce smoothed his overcoat topping his suit, slyly wiping the sweat that had beaded up on his palms away. There was nothing to be nervous about. Bruce just wanted to get a sandwich and return to his office. 

This had nothing to do with it being late lunch hour, which just so happened to be what Dove favored to avoid heavy mid-day traffic. 

The world class chef’s at Wayne Towers couldn’t replicate the sauce only available at the small hole in wall deli. Or offer the variety of international snacks found in its compact aisles and fridges. Like the popsicles he tried the other day. The same ones he found in Spinelli’s trash. 

The bell dinged and the men grunted a hello from behind the counter. Their idea of good service and Bruce’s idea were on two different planets, but the billionaire knew a thing or two about being cocky. The type of cockiness he wielded at socials and galas, where all his peers and onlookers whimpered at his feet and laughed at his pisspoor jokes. The type of cockiness being the best breeds in a person. Knowing no matter what you do, you’ll still be untouchable.

It was a heady feeling, akin to consuming the finest absinthe. 

“Yo! What can I do for you bossman?” Cold steel eyes scanned the walkways and mirrors in the corners of the store, searching for that familiar head full of tamed hair. Did he come too late? Too early? Is she not on her lunch right now? Maybe, Bruce reasoned as the man fixed up his order while talking loudly to his coworker, maybe she went to another shop for lunch. 

Still, this would be his third time coming to the store without laying eyes on his current object of intrigue. At this point, going back to the footage and coming up with a new plan seemed like the best next step-

The bell dinged.

“Oi, there’s our little princess! Where you been at?” Following the cashier’s gaze, Bruce’s heartbeat picked up with a shy bit of hope racing through his system.

Pretty brown eyes. Hair covered by a neon yellow beanie. Black stockings with the smallest rips along her outer knee and a pretty red scarf that had seen better days. 

“Po, you know I have to wait until the fifteenth to afford one of your sandwiches. Don’t play dumb.” Bruce’s ears perked. There was a sharpness in her voice he had only heard from tapping into audio tapes from around the city. How familiar was she with these two?

“You talking to me, the man that makes your food, like that?” 

“I never said a word to Sammy.” A raspy chuckle trailed her response. “Sammy, how are you darlin? Po not working you too hard, right?”

“He not, but you could.” Dove snorted, tapping along the laminate wood counter, bringing the line count from one to two. In front of her, A sharp dressed man dug in his pocket for his wallet and collected his sandwich. 

“Boy, stop playing with my emotions like you don’t got a husband at home and make my food.” 

“That it bossman?” Brown eyes finally took notice of the figure at the register and the woman felt her body temperature drop. Of all people to catch her outside of her work persona, it had to be the most important man in the city, the possible key to her upward mobility if she impressed him enough. 

Should she speak up? Call his attention and butter him up with her hopefully endearing personality? Would it be best to act like she didn’t recognize him? But, Dove scrunched her nose in agitation as her eyes tracked Sammy slapping her sandwich together behind the glass barrier, who in Gotham wouldn’t recognize Bruce Wayne? The real dilemma was would he remember her? 

Sure they shared a meal one time, but a man like him must be drowning with dozens of shared dinners with women. Nothing made her special-

“No caviar this time?” As if sensing her internal dialogue, Bruce’s smooth voice startled her and solved her issue at the same time. Their eyes met, and everything outside of the woman next to him faded away from his vision. It was alarming how she could fog his brain with a simple look, which only made Bruce want to be around her more, orbit around like the moon does the earth, tethered to her gravity with no desire to break free.

“Not this time, Mr. Wayne-”

“Princess, want it toasted?” Sammy asked, breaking up the beginning of what Bruce thought to be a beautiful moment. His trained ears could hear the swallow of saliva being forced down her esophagus.

“Yes, add it to my total.” Too distracted by the thought of a warm lunch for the first time in ages, Dove is blind to the intense look her sponsor gives Sammy. 

“Mr. Wayne, you keep paying for my food and Gotham will start talking. I’ll end at the top of the gotham gazette web page.” Dove protested lighty, enough to say she tried but not enough for him to change his mind about buying her lunch. 

Bruce fought the goofy smile looking for a place on his face, sliding his card over for payment. Buying things for pretty girls was familiar territory for the billionaire. He could consider it foreplay at this point. In his experience, nothing made a woman want him more than getting a feel for how big his pocket bulge was. 

A decorated palm rose to wave at the gentlemen behind the counter. Wordlessly, the pair exited the shop with Bruce holding the door for her, the door chime signaling their return to society, one where a man like him didn't pay much mind to women like her. But Bruce had so much more he wanted to say.

Every parting with her tugged at his heart, demanding he take drastic action to keep her in his sights.  A more impulsive man would clasp her hand and smooze her number out. 

“If anyone ever gives you trouble, kindly send them to my office. I’ll take care of it, Dove.” What a man, she thinks. There must be something wrong with him. She found it hard to resist his charm, or believe that the persona he donned for the general public and the man on a midday lunch break were the same person. 

“In that case, maybe you should give me your number.” Bold. He liked it.

Thank goodness.

"if mushrooms are the superior lifeform that really calls the shots on this earth, why haven't they destroyed us yet?" listen to yourself. have we as humans gotten rid of every mountain on the planet just because we are smarter than big rocks? no!! because they don't pose a threat to us. sure some people die rock climbing or skiing and that's tragic but mountains aren't dangerous to us as a global society. do you see where i am going with this. it's your misplaced hubris that makes you think that humankind is worth destroying to a mushroom. we are a part of the mundane landscape on the surface. we pose no threat to the mycelian era. humble yourself

big poppa 3 | MYG (18+)

————————————୨♥︎୧————————————

♡parts: one // two // three //♡

❥pairing: weedman!yoongi X black!reader

❥genre: angst, smut, fluff

❥summary: Yoongi wants you to to try his new products…

❥!!warnings!!: sexual activity while under the influence of weed & edibles (high yoongi omfg😵‍💫), mentions of healthy weight gain being praised

❥other warnings: fingering, oral (male receiving), riding, first time raw sex (please use protection!), hickeys, hand holding💔, weed smoking & edibles

❥notice: Suga is Yoongi’s street name. Reader is 21 and Yoongi is 25 here. (Also, yes I did up their ages cause this series is over a year old so I let them grow with it). Ik it’s kinda long but cmon nowwww I know you missed these two so I made it like we were catching back up with them😮‍💨💔

-Did you know that Big Poppa by Biggie is in Yoongi’s favorite tracks on Spotify??????🥴 Yeahhhhhhhhh.

❥word count: 8.5k damn

-inspo: These screenshots from his VLive along with the FUCKING live itself and his AMAs look for the My Universe stage with that damn gray hoodie gave me all the motivation I needed for Big Poppa 3. Literally. Inspo also from a Yoongi edit I made over a year ago.

-song rec: big poppa - The Notorious B.I.G. (slowed)

-author’s note: There’s some mentions of how Big Poppa is tied to Want Me, @maddeinvenus suggested I do it long ago so I kind of connected them🤭

-This is probably the last installment of Big Poppa 🥹. Don’t worry though, I have a thing for revisiting certain tropes so there may be another weedman!member fic coming along or even another Yoongi one. Who y’all tryna see next? Hope you are excited for this and that you enjoyyyy!!🥰🤍

————————————୨♥︎୧————————————

Your semester sucked ass.

Classes were hard, professors didn’t care about the horrendous work loads, and peers constantly made staying on campus a living hell. You’d lost count of how many times curfews were enforced and how many community service events were held to scrub spray paint off of brick walls. You’d went. Only because you didn’t have shit else to do and the credits would look good on your résumé that you had not been working on since you started university.

At least your first semester of your junior year was done. Final exams had rolled around again and so did the looming stress, but you pulled through. Getting good grades wasn’t your concern; As long as you’d gotten it out the way, you could relax. 

Or try to. Staying in your dorm or on campus in general was depressing to you, because the only person you wanted to see every day wasn’t there. In fact, he went missing for two months. It wasn’t intentional or like he didn’t inform you or anything… He’d went to South Korea with RM for something important to do with his business. He didn’t up and leave for no reason. And there were sweet messages on your phone every time you woke up. Still, he was missing to you. 

The only thing that keeps you sane in his absence is going over his house every day. He’d left you with his keys and asked to look over his place, which you did, but you just couldn’t resist bringing your things along and spending nights there. His sheets still smelled heavily of his cologne—along with the potent scent of weed—and it brought you enough comfort to sleep amidst worrying about him being across the world. (Plus, masturbating in the blankets that smelled of him got you off. He didn’t mind, per a few pictures you sent him that got jealous feedback.)

You missed Yoongi so bad. You missed the sex and the weed, too, but none of that compared to him as a person. He made you so happy, made you get butterflies when he crossed your mind hundreds of times out the day, made you really soft for him…

You were so whipped.

“Fuck you, Yoongi,” you mumble to yourself with a huff as you take a seat on one of the cool benches in the courtyard. The people you were walking with sit around, too, still hype from the frat party you all just left. It’s nighttime and past midnight. You went out for a night of fun, but you were hoping everyone else was ready to head to bed soon. You want to leave and go fall into a deep sleep in Yoongi’s blankets.

“But did y’all see the way they were moving though?” Some girl that you can’t remember the name of says, mentioning the frat boys’ raunchy dancing. “Grinding shouldn’t look that… bad.”

“Right? So many girls were screaming at it, too. Seems like all it takes is a little dry humping the floor to make females go crazy,” Lance says, and you roll your eyes at the cringey term while the girl laughs. Some men were still calling women ‘females’? Ew. Yoongi would never.

“Jealous?” you can’t help but to try him.

“Of resorting myself to a horn dog?” Lance frowns. “Don’t think so.”

The girl gives an annoyed look at you, and the rest of the group laughs at their antics. Nothing’s funny, they’re all pretty much wack, and you’re not feeling them. Ugh, you should have branched off from people you knew in your class and split with the nerdy ones. One of them recommended you anime flicks, and you should have took their offer on going with them to the rec room to watch. On the inside, you somehow think the night would have ended up the same anyways: being annoyed by men trying to play “alpha male” and women eating it up.

“What about you then?” 

It’s too quiet for a second, so you glance up to see Nick looking over at you, waiting for an answer. “What about me, what?”

“You liked watching those guys?” A smirk forms on Nick’s tan face. What is he getting at? You didn’t care for any of the frat boys, but they ate up their little dance routine. 

“It was good,” you shrug, and Lance shakes his head as if he’s disappointed. 

“Females.” 

“Seriously,” the girl next to you scoffs in agreement. “It was so disgusting. And overly sexual.” 

“I mean… maybe if you both knew how to dance like that… or if you had just looked away from it, it wouldn’t be a problem,” you hold your hands up as if to say you aren’t trying to be offensive to them and make them out to be haters, but you really are. The girl is chuckling at your boldness. You don’t know why, but you want to slap her.

“Females are so picky,” Lance starts, continuing the conversation you are already done with. “They want someone stupidly handsome and athletic… who’s a dick. They don’t like the good guys. Unlike Jade here.” 

The girl, apparently Jade, nods. “True. They always want to run behind the bad guys when there’s so many good men out there. It’s so trashy.”

You sigh, not wanting to hear this “pick me” shit. Not from a dude you saw trying to hit on every girl at that damn party, including you. And especially not from a girl condoning their words. Lance and Nick are the typical “good guy” claimers yet constantly make misogynistic jokes and aren’t even entertaining personality wise. The bitch next to you… needs a reality check and a better “no-makeup makeup look” routine to be more believable. You’ll pass. 

Before another one of them can bring up anything else about “females”, a group you recognize from the party loudly walks by. Some track runners.

“Yo, what’s good Lance. Nick,” one of them handshakes with both the guys. “Saw the soccer game the other day, really good play.” 

You want to laugh so bad at how Lance and Nick are puffing their chests up to the track team. “Thanks, man, can’t wait til track season starts back next year to see you on the run. What you got there?” 

By time the track runner guy passed in front of you on the bench to handshake with Lance and Nick, you’d smelled it. Anyone knew the smell of weed from anywhere— the scent is always strong. But no one knows that signature musky and sweet aroma like you do. Except for the motherfucker that deals it. 

“Weed,” the guy cheeses, showing off the poorly rolled blunt. “Just got some from the dude in the parking lot.” 

Your body runs cold. It can’t be. You grab for your shoulder purse and dig around for your phone. 

“Terrance, crowned dumbest freshman of the semester,” Nick tsks, running a hand through his brown hair but taking the blunt when it’s offered to him. “Buying weed from someone random?” 

“There was a whole line and it seemed like everyone knew him. How were we just supposed to sit there and not go and get some? Plus, it wasn’t as expensive like that one guy who charges 40 for a gram.”

“Who’s selling other than B-Jock?” Jade questions. “The campus weed man has been gone for like two months.” 

For an uptight and innocent posing ass bitch, she’s surely invested in the school’s weed business.

“Sugar, right?” Lance asks.

“It’s Suga,” Jade corrects. “And his weed is top tier quality. No way he came back without giving his customers a notice. Shooting a text is so easy.” 

You sneer to yourself at her entitled comment. Yoongi didn’t owe anyone he sold to shit; He already gave discounted prices. You remember how pressed people were when he disappeared all of a sudden. He had a life, too, and none of them needed to be all in that kind of business of his. Maybe you weren’t mad like them, because Yoongi had told you about his little vacation… But whatever. If anyone had a right to know if he was coming back, it would be you, since you both text frequently and did things outside of weed… He would let you know, right?

Of course he would. And you’re hoping so as you’re waiting for your phone to power back on. The one time you turn your phone off to preserve battery, this shit happens. At least the device kept the 7% of juice left. 

“Oh, then, yeah,” Terrance shrugs, taking his blunt back and passing it on to another team member. “I guess that’s him in the parking lot selling. With the real nice Mercedes?” 

It’s him. 

Jade realizes that it’s him as well, because she hops up off the bench next to you. “Bye!! See you guys in class Monday!” and runs towards the direction of the campus parking lot. You can’t blame her pick-me ass. You’re about to do the same. 

Lance complains about how he was trying to get Jade’s number before the night ended, while you quickly click on the notifications that have finally loaded. Your phone’s light catches your smile when you see they’re all from Yoongi. 

[4] missed FaceTime calls from 🖤

🖤 [11:02 PM]: daddy’s about to be back in town and I’m being ghosted… 

🖤 [11:06 PM]: forgot you’re at a party :(

🖤 [11:08 PM]: I just saw the picture why are you looking so fine???

🖤 [11:09 PM]: god I miss you

🖤 [11:09 PM]: you’re so pretty what the hell

🖤 [11:10 PM]: fuck.

🖤 [11:11 PM]: wanna give you hugs and kisses

🖤 [11:11 PM]: and eat you out

🖤 [11:12 PM]: tonight… No now...

🖤[11:12 PM]: my cutie :((

🖤 [11:15 PM]: well have fun and be safe I’ll text when I make it 🖤

🖤 [12:34 AM]: made it but you’re still out and people are begging me to sell so I’ll be in the parking lot lol

Your phone time says 1:40. He was waiting for you to text back for two hours, shit. But it’s fine. You’re positive he’s still out there even if he’s done selling. You don’t bother to text back, because you know where you’re going by the time you stand up and start to walk away with the giddiest smile on your face.

“________? You’re gone for the night?” Nick asks. 

“Yup. Going to go smoke weed,” you flat out say, having a feeling that they have resentment towards girls who smoke. You live for the look on the guys’ faces, including the track team’s, so you continue. “And get my guts rearranged. In a car… See you Monday!” 

“O-Oh, okay!” Nick shouts back with an awkward thumbs up, and you laugh with a wave, hoping that this will cause them to outcast you even though you only “befriended” them for the night.

You’re pissed that you wore strappy heels with your off the shoulder sweater dress, more annoyed that you can’t get to Yoongi as fast as possible than you were when you walked around all night in them. However, you get there in less than 5 minutes. There’s not a line anymore, so you suspect that the people hanging around in groups have already bought from Yoongi and are smoking their buds. What there is left in the line though is a guy and Jade. You don’t know much about her to be clenching your hands up into fists like you do. 

Deep breath in. Deep breath out. And then you’re walking across the lot to Yoongi’s Mercedes. 

It’s parked in its usual spot in the back. His trunk is opened, and it’s facing the trees— an attempt to hide what’s going on. As you approach closer, Jade hears the sound of your heels clicking, looks at you, but then turns back around to not acknowledge you more. Oh. So she is one of those. 

The guy in front of her speaks, though you know it’s to Yoongi, you can’t see him. “Shit, man. I’m two dollars short. Let me run to my car real quick, I’ll be—“

“You good, man.” 

Your stomach clenches at the simple sound of his voice. 

“Here,” and then you see a hand give the college student a baggie holding about two grams. 

“Preciate it, Suga.”

The guy turns to leave, walking past Jade but noticing you from a community service event. You smile and wave as he does the same. Jade steps forward next, and, in the most respectful way, do you want to drag her by her ponytail when she greets Yoongi with the grossest voice you’ve ever heard. 

“Hi, Suga!” It’s so fakely sweet with a definite sensual undertone. “What do you think I should get tonight? And I love the rings. Are they new?”

Rings? Why the fuck is she assessing him so hard to notice what’s on his fingers? Then to compliment them? Fuck no. You hear Yoongi’s own fake laugh, and you have to look down to cover the smirk that crosses your face. He doesn’t want to entertain her ass. 

“They are new, and I don’t know,” he answers. “The two grams count of the new batch has been selling the most.”

“Ooh! A new batch?”

“Yeah, so sorry if the price is a little higher.”

“That’s completely fine for you, Suga… Hmm… I think I’ll take an eighth tonight,” she smirks. “It’s a lot, isn’t it? Wish I had someone to smoke with, you know?”

“It’s 40. And uh, yeah, I guess? Smoking with other people are fun.”

“Right?” Jade agrees and cuts right to the chase. “Oh, are you finally free tonight? I’ve missed you the past few months. I don’t like that you didn’t tell me you were leaving… and left me in the dirt after how long I’ve been asking.”

You roll your eyes, not believing that Yoongi really has to put up with some customers like this. You clench the strap of your handbag. 

“I don’t think I need to apologize about not informing you on my personal life,” Yoongi states, trying to be as nice as possible by leaving it at that. “And I don’t have that eighth ready right now, give me a second to package it.” 

Jade looks as if she’s about to move closer to him, so you take this as your chance to speak up. “Is a two gram pack ready?” You question loud enough. 

Yoongi answers without bothering to see who spoke. “Yep. I can get you real quick.” 

You and Jade eye each other as she steps to the side to let you in front of her, and you finally get the first glimpse of Yoongi searching around his organized trunk of goodies. You swear you’re about to pass out when you see he’s wearing a gray-toned fit. And are your eyes playing tricks on you? His hair is not as dark as it was before…

But right now, you’re too focused on how you’re about to tell Jade off, and what better way to do that, than to show her? It’s hilarious that she thinks you’re about to take your little baggie and leave them two to be alone. Not on your watch. 

“How much?” 

“25.”

“Plus you?” 

Yoongi laughs, because you know he thinks it’s a good pickup line idea. “I’m not on the table.” 

You fake pout. “So funny you say that after you texted me a few hours ago about eating me out…”

His head shoots up so fast that he almost hits the hood of his trunk. The gummy smile that graces his face has you smiling like an idiot, too, because, holy hell is he so fucking pretty. He looks so much more gorgeous without having to see him behind a screen.

“You crazy ass woman,” he greets you with a bone crushing hug, head falling right to your neck to breathe in his favorite perfume you love to wear. “I was planning on acting pissed at you for not answering my calls, but seeing you makes me think otherwise.” 

You pull away with a laugh, “You’re so overdramatic. I told you I was at a party. I was going to…“ you pause mid-sentence, your eyes falling onto his hair. You knew it looked different even though it’s a bit dark to see. 

He bites his lip with a smirk in amusement as he watches your three stages of the surprise: amazement, betrayal, and anger. “What?”

You run your manicured fingers through his newly colored orange hair, loving how it looks so good on him with his growing mullet. You breathe out, “You’re out of your fucking mind for this.” 

“It’s just orange.” 

“No, this color makes me want to get on my knees right here, right now,” you admit, feeling your insides seriously twist again. “You didn’t even send me a picture.”

“Cause I just dyed it yesterday and wanted to surprise you,” he states with that toothy smile of his. “I took fresh pictures for you. I’ll show you them.” 

“Hmph.” You do a once over of him altogether, admiring his face—the scar on his eye nothing but a faint mark now—his skin glowing, body looking a bit buffer… His scent familiar and reminding you of his bed. 

You feel your eyes jerking with tears when you notice the new bling on his fingers, but your heart melts even more when you see the necklace plated in gold with your name he’s wearing around his neck like it’s a medal. He’s finally back. 

“Oh, let me get her her stuff, and then we’ll get in,” Yoongi pulls away to organize Jade’s weed. “I have something special for you, baby.”

You smile and lean on the back of his car as you watch him. “Other than what we’re about to do?” 

He smirks and nods. You want him to face fuck you so bad. This hunk of a man. “Mhm. You’ll like it.” 

“Love it,” you correct him. 

He finishes packaging Jade’s buds safely into a container and hands it to her while she hands him cash. No one else has come to buy, seeing as a good portion of the campus probably already has by now for the night. “It’s a new batch that’s a bit stronger so be safe while smoking it.” 

“Awe, I sure will, Suga,” Jade says with a pressed-lip smile. “Oh. And about if you were free or not, text and let me know. You have my number.” 

Did she not get the hint? She really stood here and watched you both and even listened to Yoongi call you baby and still decided to try and spit game at him? All while pretending you aren’t there? Maybe you or your name around his neck wasn’t clear enough for her to understand. 

You take a long, petty glance at Jade before pulling Yoongi into a kiss. Yoongi had obviously missed you just as much with how his tongue slips inside your mouth easily, hands falling to your waist to pull you closer. The moan he gives you has you moaning back, but you pull away before it gets too X-Rated. That’s for the car. “He’s busy,” you tell Jade as you wipe your smeared gloss from his lips.

She blinks dumbly. “I… can see that. Uhm…” You raise your eyebrows at her, ready for her to say something smart, but she realizes she’s not wanted here. “See you two later…” And spins around to walk away. Good. She’ll be just fine smoking that damn weed on her own. The fuck did she think this was?

“Bye, Jade!” You squeal and wave for good measure. “See you in class Monday, babes!”

When she’s far away enough, you sense Yoongi moving. “What’d she do?” He asks with a laugh while he grabs some things out of his trunk. You giggle at how he caught on to the fact that you don’t like her. 

“In short, she’s a pick-me,” you answer.

“Understandable. I can’t stand her either. She constantly blows up my phone.”

“That’s her?” You question, remembering when you’d asked one night why his phone was going off so much, and he said it was no one important. You trusted him about it. He was right.

“Yeah. She gets ignored unless she’s trying to buy,” he says, handing you a black, plastic bag to hold while he gets the others and closes the trunk.

“What’s this?” You ask as he guides you to the passenger side to open the door for you. 

“You’ll see.” You nod and bend down to put the bag on the seat. Taking off your purse to put it on the dashboard, you feel a hand at your backside. 

“You’re gaining weight on me?” Yoongi asks. You don’t think he means it in a bad way, but you react nervously as you stand back up to look at him. 

“During final exams, I was really stressed… s-so.”

“Oh, no, there’s nothing wrong with it, uhh…” he blushes with a lip bite, but doesn’t forget to squeeze the hell out of your butt cheek underneath your dress. “You look fucking amazing. I just know that it… wasn’t moving like this before—“

“Yoongi!” You squeal and hit him in the arm, nothing but bulging muscle hitting you back. You guess both of you gained healthy weight in the absence of each other. 

He moves his hands with a chuckle and lets you get inside. Closing the door, he jogs to the driver’s side to get in. You can’t help the familiar feeling of being with him again making you practically combust in your seat. Staying at his house wasn’t shit compared to this. 

“Are you cold? Hot?” Yoongi asks, and you tell him you’re a little hot. He bumps up the AC. Locking the doors and turning off the engine with a sigh, he turns to look at you. The blue accent lights in his car give enough light to admire each other after two months of not being face-to-face. 

You both stare for a while, basking in each other’s presence. The romantic and sexual tension is high. 

You speak first. “How was South Korea with RM?” 

“Aish, it was so fun, ________,” Yoongi grins as he reminisces. “Me and RM did some touring, and it was kinda cool to see the things that had changed and things that had stayed the same since we were last there years ago. I’ll show you the pictures. Oh. I saw some of my family, too. We mainly worked on the weed batches though.”

You stop him. “You saw some of your family? H-… How was it?”

“Of course it was kinda shit. I had only went to visit my brother, but he invited our parents last minute, too, cause supposedly they’d been begging to see me after all these years. They don’t like what I do, but the love was still there,” he states. “Well, barely. I’m not planning on seeing my parents again anytime soon. They pissed me off when I mentioned you, so.” 

You don’t need for him to go into any more details. You can already suspect how it went. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.” 

He shakes his head and reaches over to sweep a few of your knotless braids out of your face. “It’s not your fault you’re so unbelievably gorgeous, cutie,” he says softly. “My pretty girl.” 

You find yourself shyly smiling at his words to which he chuckles at how flustered he got you. The rings on his knuckles gently knock against your cheek, and you grab his hand before he can take them away.

“You really want to hurt me,” you mumble as he flexes his hand for you, the big letter rings that spell out SUGA on them sparkling. “These are so hot, Yoongi.” 

“Hm, you think so?” he asks. “Your necklace still wasn’t done, but he said it should be finished before Christmas. I think it’s cute that it’ll be like a present.”

Your gaze is on nothing but the damn rings on those fingers of his. “This… feels like my present.” Yoongi chuckles, practically having to snatch his hand away from you. 

“I’ll let you play on them later. I want to show you what I brought back.” 

Digging among the things he took out of the trunk, you see packs of items you’d never seen before. They looked like different types of candies with a variety of flavors and textures, including chocolates. You examine one of the bags to confirm your suspicions. 

“Edibles? I think you’re in love with me, Chucky.” 

The ginger haired man gives you the smuggest look, eyes crinkling up cutely at your assumption and nickname. “RM liked the idea of starting edibles as well when I told him you suggested it. So we hopped on it as soon as possible. Can’t wait for you to try it.”

As Yoongi opens a package for you, you question, “I thought you were only going over to South Korea to make new batches? You’re so sick for this.” 

“We did, anddd,” he pulls out a closed container that has a big label with your name on it. “This is yours. It was the first official batch we made, and only RM and I tried it.” 

The container full of weed is handed to you. “Can you smoke some with me?” 

“That’s not even a question, ________. I’d rather you smoke it with me first anyways.”

You grin and place it on the arm rest. Yoongi starts explaining the THC edibles to you, their flavors, and that they might not taste all that good since him and RM just wanted to try it out. The first candy that is handed to you looks like a sour gummy worm. You eat it.

“Mmm,” you eat another one.

“Can you taste it?” 

“A bit. It’s there but it’s not too strong. It does give the candy a different flavor, but overall it tastes good.”

Yoongi takes your good criticism to heart and has you try some of the other gummies. “I should sell?” You nod, enjoying some of the chocolates now to which he chuckles at. “Ah, don’t eat too much, we don’t know the intensity of the high yet. You ate already, right?”

“I don’t think they’ll hit me that hard,” you claim, sucking on one that has a cherry middle. Many people claim edibles aren’t shit, and you can prove that you’ve tried edibles that didn’t do shit to you. You know Yoongi’s products are legit, but you think you’ll be fine. “And yeah, I ate before the party. You ate?” 

He nods. “Right after I got off the plane. Even though you ate, I’m gonna need you to put these down before you wake up with the worst headache. I told RM you were gonna be obsessed with them.”

You take his advice and put the edible candies to the side. “You’re right. How is he doing, by the way?” 

Yoongi leans back in his seat to look at you as he talks. “Honestly, kinda shitty. You know his wife, SooHee? Uh, yeah, their cover got blown as being a fake arranged marriage thing back in SK, so a lot of shit is going down at the trap. You know he’s the leader now, so it’s much harder on him since he has to make most of the decisions. Along with that, he’s kinda crushing on this girl, I’m talking took her to his little spot on the hills and everything type of crush, but he’s such a dickhead and thinks a relationship would be too hard. Plus, he has this nonchalant ‘I don’t care’ vibe around girls he likes so I’m sure that’s making it worse.”

“Wow,” you blink. “Pretty sure that sucks for her. You think she’ll break him soon?”

“She already has. Apparently she’d sent him a long paragraph about him being an asshole, and he texted back some stupid shit, but they still ended up on the hills again. He doesn’t like being disrespected, so I’m surprised she’s not dead. He obviously cares.”

“He so cares,” you smile, loving the drama from RM’s side of life. 

“She goes to your university actually,” Yoongi smirks. “Probably know her.” 

“I probably don’t want to know her if she’s fucking RM.”

“She’s the complete opposite of what you think his type would be.” 

You just shake your head and laugh, not being able to picture what sane girl in their right state of mind would date RM, let alone want to be with him. He was really a gentleman, but he gave off such vibes that screamed a bit of toxicity when it came to being emotionally available with partners. He seemed like the type to be covered in mixed signals, relationship wise.

Yoongi asks how your exams were, and you tell him that you think you did good, but if you didn’t, then oh, well. College is so draining, and you’re not one to fret over tests like that. At this point in your university life, you’re just riding the wave of completing as much work as you can, not really learning the material. You assume you’ll be fine as long as you stay on track.

“It sounds like you deserve a smoke,” Yoongi suggests, and you grin widely as you see him open the sleek bag containing what you want so badly. Out comes the rolling paper, and the container with the first new batch of weed is popped open. The smell is loud, and you’ve smoked enough to know that it smells heavier this time. 

As Yoongi splays out the wrapper and grabs a bud, he tells you again, “Before we smoke this, I wanna make sure you realize that this is going to be much stronger, even stronger than what I sold today.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You question with a cocked eyebrow. “I think I can take it.” It couldn’t be as strong as he’s making it out to be, right? 

Yoongi just hums with a little smirk playing on his pink lips. “I know you can take it. Just wanted to remind you.”

He takes the green bud between his fingers and squeezes, crushing it into flakes, spreading it evenly on the brown paper. Yoongi offers you to roll, but you ask him to continue instead, only because you want to see his dangerous tongue lick along the edges to seal it. He locks eyes with you as he coaxes the blunt closed, his pupils dilated and teasingly glaring your way. Your mouth is watering.

You feel like you’re already high off the scent of his weed, faded off the way the perfectly rolled blunt looks between his sexy, ringed fingers. He knows how much he’s affecting you with that cocky look on his face. “Wanna take the first hit?”

You blink out of your daze. “Y-Yeah. I can.”

Yoongi chuckles lowly at your stammering, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs. You cannot fold this early. 

Yoongi holds the blunt towards you, and you open your mouth to let him put it between your teeth. He pats his jeans for a lighter—a fiery red one tonight—and sparks it a few times. It comes to life, he cups the flame over the end of your joint until it blazes orange, and the blunt is lit. 

You inhale that first smoke, and your body warms up instantly, your muscles relax. It doesn’t feel much different at the moment. The taste is much bitter than before, but still so sweet and too delectable for a drug. You take the blunt out of your mouth and exhale, passing it on to Yoongi across the arm rest. 

“Good?” He asks before he inhales his first pull. 

You lick your lips. “Mhm.”

He smiles after he blows out his smoke, handing the blunt back to you. A couple of more puffs are exchanged, and then he’s reaching for the radio. “It’s only right that I turn this on…”

You’re wondering for a second what is it that he could possibly want to play on the radio while you both hotbox, but as soon as you hear the beginning of that song’s addictive intro, your clouded mind is hooked.

“You’re so cheesy,” you tell Yoongi as none other than Biggie Smalls himself starts mumbling his adlibs throughout the car. 

“I had to play it,” Yoongi grins and turns up the volume. “I downloaded a looped and reverbed version while in SK, because I couldn’t stop thinking about the song. And you.” 

You hum softly as you breathe in another puff of weed, admiring the wholesome man in front of you. Your heart is flipping as you watch and listen to him. 

“Why blow up my spot cause we both got hot? Now check it.”

Yoongi only stops his rapping to smoke the joint, exhaling and passing it as he smooths back into the main chorus of Big Poppa. He continues, facing you as he gets all into the song.

“Plans to leave, throw the keys to little Cease. Pull the truck up front, and roll up the next blunt.”

You grin and dance a bit in your seat to hype his sexy voice, winding your hips a bit, trying to comprehend why he sounds like he could actually be a rapper. He knows all the lyrics by heart, too, like it’s his favorite song. It’s charming to think that he’s tied this iconic piece of art to you and himself.

Maintaining eye contact with you and leaning in, Yoongi raps lowly, “Conversate for a few, cause in a few, we gone do what we came to do, ain’t that right, boo?”

You pull the blunt out of your mouth just in time to do the adlib. “True!”

Yoongi smirks so hard at you joining in on the fun, his eyes falling to your lips while you take an extra drag. He leans even closer, mere inches away. 

“Forget the telly, we just go to the crib—“ your own eyes drop down to his pink lips now, the lyrics barely audible in your thrumming ears. “—And watch a movie in the jacuzzi, smoke L’s while you do me…”

Yoongi takes the initiative to capture your mouth as the chorus to Big Poppa hits. His hand comes up to cradle the side of your neck, and yours drops to his chest, making sure to hold the weed out of the way with the other as not to burn anything. 

His lips are moist and pillowy, so succulent that you have to bite and teethe at them. His breath smells of the honeyed marijuana when he sighs aloud, moving to lick his tongue up your jaw. Your eyes roll back, and you bite your own lips in anticipation as he nibbles at the spot underneath your ear, whispering his own version of the next line of lyrics:

“Cause I see a lady tonight that should be having my baby…” he rasps. “Baby…”

You gasp out with a grip to his shoulders, trying to stop the dripping you can feel between your legs. “D-Don’t say things like that…”

Yoongi just laughs again, still abusing the skin of your throat with his damp kisses and bites. “Like what, cutie?”

Your head feels like it’s full of fog, but you’re able to get your words out. “Things that infer that you want to fuck me full of your cum…”

“Watch your mouth,” he grumbles on your flesh. Another high laugh, and Yoongi moves his hand to your hip, his voice dropping an octave deeper as he whispers, “But I do.”

You suck in a breath. Super safe Yoongi who always has a condom on hand and wants to ensure you both have the most protected sex is suggesting otherwise. Maybe it’s because he missed you so much. You can barely focus with his cat-like eyes glaring at you up and down, checking you out as if he just met you.

He licks his lips and slurs in that deep voice of his, “Don’t act like it didn’t get you wet.”

Oh, god…

You roll your eyes despite your thighs clinging together. “Mmm, I don’t think it did.” It most definitely got you more soaked than you were at first. 

“No?” Yoongi asks, and you shake your head. He doesn’t believe you.

“No!” You laugh uncontrollably when he reaches for the hem of your dress, but you push his hands away and stick the blunt back in between your teeth to fuck with him. 

He leans in closely to call your bluff, even parting his lips, and you blow your smoke back into his mouth. The cloudy wisps of air are cut off as he kisses you again, snatching the mostly smoked weed out of your hand and stubbing it out in the ashtray underneath the radio. You sigh heavily and pull him nearer by the neck. He grips your thighs open, and you let him in this time.

“Fucking hell…” he groans at the sheer stickiness his fingers are met with when he touches the crotch of your panties. “Liar.”

“S-So?” You breathe into his neck. He starts rubbing tight, slow circles on your clit with his thumb, and your legs spread out more on their own. “You knew I was.”

“I did,” Yoongi hums and presses harder on your bundle of nerves, teeth nipping your ear. “My weed gets you so wet, right? Or is it just me?”

“B-Both.” You teethe your lip with a whine. “But mainly y-you, Yoongi, s-shit.”

The ginger haired man slides his fingers down your slit, the rings on them bumping your thigh as he toys with your panties. He grunts when he struggles with the thin straps of your thong, choosing to slip his fingers underneath the lace instead to properly touch you. A laugh and a moan bubbles in your throat at his thick digits struggling stupidly against the fabric but still massaging you just right. 

“You’re so fucking high,” you whimper into the kiss. He talked all that shit about the weed batch being too strong for you but fell victim to it harder.

“Shut up—fuck,” Yoongi growls, watching himself push a finger inside. Your mouth drops open, and you clench his graffitied gray sweatshirt at the feeling, bucking your hips, trying anything to get it deeper to ease the coil of pressure. The coolness of the U and G rings are deliciously searing on your wetness as he starts stroking, but Yoongi realizes the bulky jewelry is in the way. 

“Don’t wanna scrape you,” he mumbles and pops them off his veiny hand one-by-one, dropping them in the cup holder and putting those fingers right back where they belong. Your body curls in when he sinks them to the hilt, an embarrassingly noisy sucking sound following his deep thrusts.

He praises about how wet and warm you are as you grind your pussy on his hand, but he’s not really fucking you how you want him to, for he knows those devil digits of his can have you at their mercy instantly.

He’s trying to stretch you out more than let you cum, but you know you’re wet and spread enough to take him at any second now. So you guide his hand away from you and tell him to pull his dick out. You undo your heels, get on your knees on the seat, and bend over the arm rest while he undoes his zipper. His eyes are red and low as he observes you grabbing his hard shaft, you licking your lips at the first look of the angry, leaking tip.

You haven’t had good dick in your mouth for two fucking months, so you don’t waste another moment. Yoongi’s eyes roll back as you kiss the head of his cock, and an open mouthed groan gasps out of him. His velvet softness is licked and suckled on, your hands gripping the rest of his stiffness to stimulate him as much as you can. 

You pull back to stroke him steadily while holding eye contact, and high Yoongi looks so cute with blushing, red cheeks when you open your mouth and dribble spit right on his pink tip. He goes insane when you dip back down to glide it all over him as natural lube and let the droplets slide to his balls. You choke into a moan when his palm smacks your butt cheek as you deep-throat him.

“Shittt—“ he hisses, his hips thrusting up into your mouth. “Left you starving, hm?”

Yes. Like did he really have the nerve to think you weren’t going to force him to bust in your mouth in only a few minutes? High Yoongi can’t control his orgasms, and high you loves seeing him break.

You keep swallowing him down even though there’s the sound of a lighter flicking on and the powerful smell of weed again. You hear Yoongi inhale a pull, another hiss following when you use the tip of your tongue to massage his balls. The double stimulations of your fast, deep bobbings and the weed have him stuck.

You lift up again to catch your breath, whimpering at the sight of your weedman smoking the relit joint while you give him head. There’s a mixture of spit and pre-cum dripping down your chin now, but Yoongi doesn’t care and pulls you in for a sloppier kiss and licks his lips after. He brushes yours apart with his thumb to get you to open your mouth and breathe in your own cloud of the drug.

Yoongi’s lip-bitten smirk and piercing eyes watching you while you blow the smoke over his sticky tip and kiss down the length of him is about to make you cum. His dick jerks on your tongue in warning that he is, too, but he pushes you off of him and starts pulling you over the arm rest.

“I need to be inside you right now,” he grunts angrily, stubbing the blunt out again.

“Yoongi—“ You laugh as he maneuvers you to his side. “Yoongi, a condom—mmfph—“

“Fuck the condom…” he yanks up the back of your dress once you’re straddling his hips. “Just sit on it, shit.”

If you weren’t close to as high as he was would you be more inclined to argue him down about using protection. But instead, you let him move your ruined panties to the side. You reach back to line him up, the naked shaft reminding you that there will be no barrier. You two will deal with that later, or your birth control will finally have its chance to be useful.

You and the weedman maintain eye contact as you start lowering yourself onto him. You can’t think straight when the head of his cock touches your folds, the bare and wet contact making you both pant. Yoongi uses his other hand to wrap around your waist and help guide himself inside.

“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he groans when he feels the resistance of how tight you are, but you angle down to get the tip to slip in.

It’s easier to slowly push the rest of him inside then, and you only have to stop for a few seconds to relax your core muscles. You finally sit down on his lap, and Yoongi makes the same anguished but pleasurable moan as you. He’s touching your cervix once you take him all in, and you whine even more when he entangles one of your hands together in his and holds it behind your back. Yoongi grabs your ass cheek with his other hand to get you to slide up, and the drag rubs against every part of your pussy.

“Y-Yoongi,” you whimper, trying to move your hand, but he holds it tightly and secure enough to not let you use it. You just grip his hand back for support and use your other to hold onto his shoulder, because high Yoongi is—

“About to ruin this pussy, baby,” he mumbles, the words rolling off of his tongue sexily, his hips meeting yours.

“Hmmm,” you moan and use your leg strength to start bouncing on his dick and matching his rhythm. Yoongi bites his lip as he watches you do your thing on top of him, low eyes appreciating your body and how it moves.

He looks up at you like he’s in love, and your tongues meet in a wet kiss that makes you press your torso flush to his. “F-Fuck, Yoongi,” you huff as you move to suck his neck, Yoongi’s own breath hitching in his throat.

He keeps his hand gripping and slapping your backside as he rocks you on his cock. His movements start getting slower but deeper, and you flip your braids over your shoulder to turn your head and watch.

Yoongi’s digging your pussy out. All you can see are your cheeks clapping, your weedman’s strong hand squeezing your flesh and spreading you for him, still holding your hand above your ass in the other. All you can hear is the wet sound of your privates connecting, Big Poppa looping on the radio in the background of you and Yoongi’s lovemaking noises. 

“Gonna make me fill you up so good,” he says against the shell of your ear. All you respond with is a high-pitched moan and clenching muscles.

“Ohh,” Yoongi’s chuckle is sinister. “She wants me to, huh?”

She—as in your pussy—does want Yoongi to cum inside. You don’t get this wet or desperate for anyone else.

“Yes,” you tell him with your quickening speed on his lap, nails scratching the hand that’s keeping yours captive. “D-don’t pull out.”

Yoongi chuckles at your wish. “If you… shit… think I’m gonna pull out after you’re fucking me like this… I would call you crazy, ________.”

You laugh and slow your hips a bit to speak, “I want you to—I need…”

“Need my cum in you?” He asks softly, letting your hand go and grabbing your waist. You finally get to wrap both arms around his neck.

“I do,” you answer. 

“Right,” he mumbles with a lingering smirk. “Show me how much you want my cum, cutie…”

You grin in acceptance of his challenge. You move back to pull the hem of your dress over your head, assuming that this will be easy when Yoongi grabs at your bare chest like it’s muscle memory. Your hands fall to his shoulders, you close your eyes, and you start fucking yourself on his dick like you deserve it. Because you do when it’s yours.

Yoongi’s flushed face ends up in your breasts, because he can’t stop himself from licking over your nipples. His sexy noises against your sternum has you holding him there, and it just feels so good added onto how you’re riding him. He goes to gripping your hips like before, tilting his head up to slide his tongue in your mouth, and fucking you from below even harder.

“A-Almost,” you wheeze, holding his face tight in your palms.

“I’m close, too,” he’s breathless against your lips. “L-Last chance to change your mind.”

He’s talking about not pulling out. Amidst your drugged mental states, Yoongi withholds his virtues.

“No,” you say. “Cum inside me, Yoongi.”

The moan he growls out makes your pussy clench dangerously around his length to the point that he couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to. His tight grip etches into the skin of your hips so that he can thrust faster, and two of his fingers fly down to flick your clit. 

You’re dazed and dopey as you orgasm, Yoongi having fucked you more senseless than the weed did. You ride him through his climax, too, swirling your hips around, shallowly stroking his cumming tip with your pussy. He tenses and shakes violently beneath you as he marks you with his seed next, thrusting slowly to help you through yours.

“Fuck,” he slurs against your neck, breathing heavily as he pampers you with kisses. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you, too, Yoongi,” you breathe out.

He’s high. You’re high. It’ll be forgotten in the morning.

He doesn’t make a move to pull out of you, not bothering to put himself away. Just wants to have his arms around you and you as close as possible on his lap as he comes down from both of his highs.

“You know what we should do?” His voice is low but audible enough over the music.

You sit back on his lap, twirling your fingers in his damp, orange hair, ready to hear him out. “What?”

“Date.” Yoongi cutely grins like he figured out something so amazing. “I take you out—anywhere you want to go—and we do… fun shit. I buy you flowers and candy or whatever you want… all that extra shit… What do you think?”

You giggle. 

“You’re so hilarious when you’re out of it, Yoongi.”

He’s conflicted by your reaction. “That was not… what I was expecting.”

You laugh harder this time, rubbing under Yoongi’s puffy eyes and cooing at him. “Yoongi… we’re already dating…? We’re in a relationship.”

His eyes widen comically. “What? Since when?”

Leave it up to a weedman like Yoongi being horny and delusional when high.

“For months… I literally have the key to your house, Yoongi. You took me on a date and made me your girlfriend? You ask me out like this every time we hotbox.”

Your boyfriend’s expression lets you know he’s thinking really hard about this “new information” and interprets it in the funniest way.

“Do you know how fucking fine you have to be for me to make you mine over and over again when I’m high?” he questions.

“Pretty damn fine, I guess,” you grin back, lying your head on his shoulder. Yoongi holds you tighter.

You lay on Yoongi like that for a good half hour, swooning over the pictures from his phone that he took in South Korea and almost barking at the ones of the process of him bleaching his hair. You eventually pull your dress back on and slide into the passenger seat after talking some more about life in general. It’s almost four in the morning now when Yoongi revs the car back up and heads home. You two’s favorite song is still lively on the radio.

Yoongi steady rehearses the chorus even when you’re getting ready for bed after your shower, coming up behind you to sing it in your ear. 

“I love it when you call me big poppa,” he moves your braid bonnet to kiss your nape, gripping your hips afterwards and swaying you to his acapella rapping. “Throw ya hands in the air, if you’s a true playa.”

You brush him off with a giggle and climb into his bed with him right behind. He doesn’t let you escape the lyrics and drags you into his stern body for a cuddle, continuing the second verse and planting forehead kisses on you in between.

Just goofy.

But your heart warms as he finishes your song with the biggest gummy smile, eyes free from the haze of weed and clouded with love for you.

————————————୨♥︎୧————————————

Just for anyone still thinking the civil rights movement was “SO long ago!”

Fred Hampton would be 51 this year if police hadn’t executed him at age 21.

Ruby Bridges is 65.

MLK would be 91 (he was assassinated at 39).

Malcom X would be 95 (he was assassinated at 39).

Claudette Colvin (the first Black woman known to refuse to give up her seat AT 15) is only 80.

Mary Louise Smith is 83.

Fred Gray is 89.

EMMETT TILL WOULD BE 79 (he was murdered at age 14 because of a white woman’s lie).

Ask yourself how old your grandparents are. Hell, how old your PARENTS are. How old are the people in most government seats right now?

Miss me with that bullshit of “It’S sO lOnG aGo. Things are better now.” These people and so many more who aren’t able to be here would be distraught at what is STILL fucking happening today. To say things like that is just willfully turning your head away from the injustices that we see today! That’s the that on that.