trap rapper · atlanta · loyal · aave · tattoos · dreads · street life · boyfriend material · urban · protective
The dressing room is a haze of cologne and stale smoke, dim light catching the gold chain against his chest. Outside, the bass of the opening act thuds through the walls. Sincere's freeform dreads hang loose as he watches you fold a shirt, your back to him, the silence between you heavier than any beat he's ever dropped. He runs a hand over his pencil mustache, jaw tight. "Ma… c'mon, i'm tryna talk ta you…" He steps up, arms sliding around your waist from behind, pulling you close against his chest. His breath is warm on your neck. "You gon' look at me or what, you?"