#Joey bada$$

[melaninadorned]

Love is Everything, part 1 | Melanin Adorned

[feloire]

[imanisays]

[thatdamnalexus]

[grittyinc]

[plaaymate]

[manimaison]

[cristinaricci]

MR. ROBOT ↳ 3.7 | eps3.6_fredrick+tanya.chk

[ghost-37]

[blackboysrock]

insta • joeybadass

[theblackfemininesociety]

Birthday Baecation Vibes.

🏷️ serayah, joey badass

[notapradagurl7]

The Return.

Black Fem! Reader x Unique!husband.

Summary: After six months of his recovery from the brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie and finally getting everything back, the first thing Unique does is return home to you. You almost couldn't believe it but your husband was alive.

A/N: Here’s something cute about Unique, enjoy! ❤️ don’t forget to reblog, comment and like to support, remember don’t be afraid to send in a request they’re always open.

Warnings: angst, praise, rough sex, biting, spanking, consensual intimacy, use of AAVE, mention of violence, established marriage, hair pulling.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@cocooned-butterfly @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @siqueth @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @jazziejax @ranikyani @naj-ay444

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @luckydaye777 @foxybrownsugababe @caashmoneynae

————

Southside, Jamaica Queens. ‘93

His snow-white polished Beamer gently rolled onto the driveway of your house, with his deep brown eyes locked onto the familiar beige interior of it, the small windows covered by black curtains spanned across it, and small green bushes cornered the sides of the house.

Beloved memories of you and him remained in his mind, choosing to keep them as close as possible.

He killed the engine, the low rumble fading into an unsettling silence as he reached for the door handle. Outside, Unique stepped out cautiously, a tight grip around his emotions in the forceful slam of the door.

There he was in the flesh, Kadeem “Unique” Mathis. The man came from the dead, the man took over the corners of Queens. Asserting his control over the streets, putting the fear back in people who looked his way, or even walked the same street as him.

The soles of his beige timberlands clicked sharply against the uneven cobblestones, each step echoing into the night as he made his way toward the front door of the black lumber, its dark facade looming like a shadow.

Unique paused before the door, drawing in a shaky breath that felt heavy in his lungs. He exhaled softly, feeling the anxiety creeping around him like a tightening fog, his mind a frantic whirlpool of anxious thoughts.

His thoughts, distorted and fragmented, raced to piece together the chaotic reality surrounding him. He focused, forcing himself to latch onto the crucial details of the moment, and despite the turmoil, he found clarity.

He had severed Raquel’s connect to her drug supply, dismantling the very foundation of her business. The gravity of his actions settled heavily upon him and in the heart of Queens, intertwining with the sharpness of his thoughts.

His hand reached out, and hovering over the doorknob.

Why was he so nervous?

Unique suffered a brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie who bashed his head in with a steel pipe. After that, Unique crawled himself out of the woods, and called Early Tyler to save him that looming night.

The scars were still on the right of his head, but he didn't let it break him. Unique wanted to those scars to be a reminder of how resilient he was, and how he fought to survive.

But still, Unique wished a thousand times for it to only be him to kill Ronnie instead of Kanan, to be the one to end the madness on his own.

Ever since that night, Unique made it his mission to recover, and worked his way up. Ronnie was dead, and his enemy Raquel was still fighting hard and strong to get her spot back.

For the first time, Unique was nervous about revealing himself to you. He imagined the scenario in his head so many times, knowing that you would cry, possibly scream as if you saw a ghost. Or you would just hug him.

Words couldn't even explain how much he missed your presence, your laugh, your smile and everything else about you.

He missed you so much.

Without hesitation, he knocked on the door twice. He heard the footsteps approaching the door, Unique exhaled softly, relishing to still feel the oxygen in his lungs.

“Who the fuck is it—” You yelled but the moment you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, the man you thought you’d lost forever. He sported a black and red

Unique stood there, looking just as handsome as ever, with that charming smirk playing on his lips, those familiar top-row gold grills glistened, but the wear of battle lingered in his eyes.

“What’s up Y/N?” he breathed, his voice low and rough, the sound washing over you like a warm wave.

“Kadeem? Baby, is that really you?” You stepped back, disbelief coloring your voice.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I'm home,” He took a step forward, and the way his eyes locked onto yours made your heart race.

You stepped aside, as he walked inside the house and he closed the door behind himself, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The scent of lavender and peppermint filled his nostrils.

Unique sported a red and black satin bomber jacket, underneath a crisp white tee shirt that hugged his toned chest. His dark pants tapered down to the fresh white sneakers, you could see the gleam of gold chains layered around his neck and his right ear was adorned with a gold hoop earring.

You noticed the way his hair was freshly styled, the curls cropped close but still showing off the texture.

“Home?” You whispered, shaking your head, tears falling from your eyes. Your husband wiped your tears away.

“Damn right I am, missed you like crazy, baby girl,” he said, a playful glint in his gaze.

You didn’t waste a second; you flung yourself into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. “I thought I lost you for good, the police told me that your body was gone,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear again.

“Never, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, and I promise I’m here to stay. You know that?” Unique murmured into your locs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lips.

You pulled back to look into his eyes, the scars on his head made your eyes flick toward it. “Ronnie did this to you? I heard he was dead but you look different…I mean, the scars…”

“Yeah, they remind me of where I been, but Ronnie ain’t break me,” he said, brushing your fingers over the scar on his head.

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride for the man in front of you. “I’m just glad you’re alive, Unique. I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, come here.” He pulled you close again, holding you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Let’s get you something to eat, I made dinner, but you can get some sleep and you must be tired,” you replied, trying to regain your composure.

“I ain’t tired, but I’m hungry for you,” he teased, a mischievous smirk on his face. “But I’ll take your love too, that’s my favorite dish.”

You laughed, a light sound that felt foreign after all the worry and dread of the past months. “You always know how to lighten the mood, huh?”

“Only for you, baby. I got time today and I got a lotta love to give, and I’m ready to show you just how much I love you,” he smirked, he leaned closer.

You felt your cheeks heat up, the emotion in the room shifting filled the air. “Unique. I want you.”

“Good,” he smirked, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

He leaned down, smashing your lips. You melted into his lips by kissing him back, your hands gripped his arms as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into that moment.

“Damn, I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming your waist, pulling you closer.

“Can I ask you something Kadeem?”

He nodded in response, waiting for you to speak. “Of course you can, beautiful,” he said. You exhaled before looking up at his eyes, your hand rested against his cheek.

“Were you giving me money in my mailbox in those past months?”

“Yes, it was me. I wanted to provide you while I was layin’ low, it killed me that I wasn't there for you, Y/N,” Unique confessed to you.

“I knew that I wasn't losin’ my mind, because I knew that it wasn't Raquel sending me that shit, it was you, baby,” You smirked with light chuckle.

“Baby,” you breathed, feeling the heat between you. “You have no idea how scared I was. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, placing a finger over your lips. “Ain’t no need to dwell on the past, baby. We here now, and I’m makin’ sure you know how much I love you.”

With quickness, he swept you off your feet, carrying you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kicked off his boots, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Now, let’s make up for lost time, yeah?” he said, setting you down on the bed. His lips ghosting over yours, peppering kisses along your lips.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, pulling him down for another kiss, taking off your clothes as he did the same.

The two of you were laid against each other naked, he hovered you and your melanated skin was kissed tenderly as he gently spread your legs apart. He looked down at you, and kissed you again but it was passionately.

With a gentle thrust, he filled you up completely and you moaned wildly, you immediately broke the kiss as he began thrusting at a faster pace, Unique still remembered how you liked it in the bedroom with him, the thickness of his dick pulsed inside you. He felt so good, “Oh..fuck!” you mewled, nails scratching at his back.

Burying his face into the warmth of your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin. Leaving hickeys in his path, Unique wanted you to feel every inch of him as if it was the first time, not the last time. “I missed you so fuckin’ much, I'm sorry, I love you,” he groaned, pulling away to look away.

“Kadeem, don't be sorry…i love you too,” You gasped sharply, your nails digging into his shoulder. Unique brought his body closer to yours to feel more of that heat, each thrust made your body quiver and twitch.

Your wetness created a pool in his lap. “Damn girl,” he grunted lowly, reaching out for your breasts and fondling them, It felt like a dream come true to him, to be finally reunited with you.

The bed creaked underneath both of you adding to the intensity of the sound of your ass clapping against his thighs, “So fucking..good,” You panted, eyelids closing shut, the cold metal of his rings made your nipples erect, and you let out a unrecognizable moan.

He fisted your locs in his hand and pulled you back in a sloppy kiss, deepening the kiss again as you responded by tangling your tongue with his, “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips, thrusting more forcefully.

The way your pussy made his dick disappear ever so perfectly elicited low groans from him, He continued to thrust into you forcefully causing your essence to pour out, each stroke fast and filled with passion. “Look at you, that pussy cummin’ already?” he teased, His hand wrapped around your neck, forcing you to look at him, grinning evilly at your reaction.

He loved the way you responded to him, the way your hips moved in rhythm with his. Unique had missed this—missed you—more than he could ever put into words. His hand delivered a rough smack onto your ass, “Y-yes! I'm cumming!”

You felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling beneath him, your essence pouring onto his dick as you cried out his name. Unique followed suit, his warm cun spilling into you as he groaned your name. He kissed the side of your face, before he kissed your lips again.

“Damn, baby,” he panted, collapsing onto the bed beside you, both of you gasping for breath. You turned to face him, a soft smile gracing your lips as you traced the outline of his jaw with your fingers. “I missed you.”

Unique turned to you, his eyes softening as he pulled you close. “I missed you too.”

“I don’t want to ever lose you again, Unique. Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” you murmured, your heart aching at the thought of being separated again.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with sincerity.

As you nestled into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the pain of losing him was finally gone, he was here. “Now, let’s get some sleep, and in the morning,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, feeling safe and content as you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man you loved. He brought the blanket close to your bodies before falling asleep next to you.

————-

[henneseyhoe]

What A Woman Wants; Fun

JoeyBada$$ X BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Basically pwp, Strangers sex(don’t be her, this is crazy lmao), Mentions of intoxication (the reg shit), Daddy kink(surprise, surprise), Public sex, Bathroom sex(kinda?), No protection (WRAP IT BEFORE YA SMACK IT), Dirty talk cause yeah, Unedited (girl im tired, sorry)

SUMMARY: What’s the point of going out if you can’t have fun?

1 | 2 | ? |

✮✮✮✮

She honestly had no business being out this late, especially downtown. But, she was a sucker for pretty lights and good music, she needed an excuse to wear a sexy dress with heels way too tall and she wanted to score free drinks, which she successfully did with the bat of her long eyelashes, successfully pulling in anyone that looked her way like a cheetah ready to pounce on its prey.

One of them were for sure to be her victim tonight, and she knew exactly who by the time she was sipsy and on the dance floor.

Bodies crowded all around her, moving to the beats of soca and dancehall music bumping through speakers loud enough to almost damage hearing. The air was nearly polluted with weed smoke.

All she focused on was moving her hips to the rhythm and giving the man behind her a show better than he had seen in all his years of living even if it was just a simple whine of her waist, she was gonna make it look as sexy as it could be as her mini dress rode up the cup of her ass with every swirl. She didn’t care.

“No panties?”

He asks as his hands trail up the front of her thighs, breath warm against the neck he had riddled hickeys on seconds ago. His voice was deep, a new york accent prevalent all throughout that made her pussy scream fuck me till the sun up, or at least till I tell you to fuck off.

She shakes her head slowly and licks her lips, her crimped curls falling into her face as she continued to whine up against him, pulling him closer behind her by the back of his neck.

He didn’t even have to ask, really. He knew the feeling of pussy in his lap when he felt it, clothed or not.

“I was hoping later tonight i’d get this dress ripped off and fucked like I deserved to be”

He let out a low moan from her forwardness, his heart skipping a beat behind his rib cage and his hands gripping hard on her waist to help control the fluidness of her movements. She could just feel his hard dick against her ass, twitching underneath the restricting true religion jeans at each word she devilishly spoke to him.

As they danced, there were moans leaving their mouths that only they could hear, thumping in her core that only she could feel. His breathing against her ear had her hot with arousal, a large hand with fingers decorated with jewelry coming up to wrap around her throat and grip to keep her grinding just in the right place. She whimpers softly as her dancing stutters, the girl feeling a nudge at her entrance from his erection.

“Keep doing that shit imma have to fuck you right in the middle of this club, ma” He spoke against her ear again, pressing harder against her. Without any other thought, she nodded needly as if he had asked her instead, earning a smack to her ass that would have made her almost stumble forward if it wasn’t for him holding her back against his chest.

“Outside. Now”

There was bass in his voice, just enough to make her quickly break away from him to follow instructions.

He watched every single step, her dress repeating rolling up the curve of her ass on each click of the six inchers her feet were screaming to get out of, but she would just have to ignore it for the night. Making it to the bathroom in the heels wasn’t even the hard part, it was actually staying up right in them when getting pounded standing up.

Fucking in a bathroom hallway wasn’t ideal, but they couldn’t wait to get to her apartment, his, or even his car.

One leg lifted and held up on his shoulder with her back against a wall, his hands gripped onto her waist to keep her in place as her hands grabbed a hold of his biceps. Thank god for flexibility gained by her stretching that morning.

She heard the sound of his chains clanking against his chest and felt the cold material of them against her leg with every movement in, the feeling of cool metal on her skin being just enough to add onto her pleasure.

“Give it to me!”

She begged breathlessly and he gladly obliged, slightly bending his knees to hit that secret spot that had her toes curling into her shoes. At any point anyone could walk out and see them. See her bent and surrendering to him. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Say my name, ma”

She didn’t even know the niggas name, but her immediate response was—

“DADDY!”

And he happily accepted it. The tip of his dick effortlessly found her gspot in no time and he wasted nothing to continue to press up against it, leaving her a babbling mess. It was like he had broken free a dam, pussy responding to his beck and call by soaking him and pulling him deeper.

He curses under his breath, praising her on how good she was taking him with no prep beforehand.

“You’re so fucking deep!”

Her tummy swirled when she felt the tip of him sit at the button of her belly button, her eyes widening.

“That’s how you like it, right? Lemme know, baby, I wanna make this pussy get right”

He moans, his lips brushing against hers just before he pecks them once to get his fix.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!”

He made her forget she had free will to cover her mouth as she did truly wonder about the volume of her voice right now even with music playing, but she was too caught up in the strokes he was delivering, a sudden slow swirl of his hips to reposition himself followed by a hard press into her that filled her to the brim taking all of her breath away. He could listen to her whimpering like that for hours.

“I know, baby, I know. Let that shit out, I wanna feel that pussy cum for me”

He encouraged her, a lopsided grin growing on his face as he watched her completely lose it. He himself couldn’t even contain a manageable volume, but he also didn’t care like she did. He was gonna make his noise regardless. Let her know that pussy was good.

“When we done imma need that number, ma. You call me whenever, aight?” He spoke in between doing his damage, his eyes now focusing on where they met.

She moans in agreement since that was all she could really do without her voice breaking. He understood because he could feel the choking squeeze of her walls, her cream sticking to his balls and making the clapping sound way more apparent. He could feel that ribbon in his lower stomach slowly, but surely begin to tighten and his love sounds started to get more fluent.

“Pretty ass face, good fuckin’ pussy. You deserved some dick tonight, ma”

“You hear that shit? Wet ass pussy”

“Let daddy get you that nut, baby, wet that dick up”

The sounds of his deep voice set off throbbing in her clit and she only needed one more thing to push her over the edge again, and he supplied exactly what was needed.

He looks into her eyes with intention to break her and lets go of one side of her hip, bringing his thumb to her mouth and allowing her to suck. She did so proudly, bobbing her head and humming out moans until he pulled out and pressed the pad of his thumb against her aching clit, rubbing small circles.

“Oh- Oh shit! I’m-“

She shuttered before her knee buckled and her head flew back, thankfully a few inches away from a wall so she didn’t hurt herself. He caught her and made sure she stayed up right, still playing with her clit as his hips bucked and stuttered in sync with hers, his own release triggered by the tightening of her warm walls. There was no pulling out from then, He would have just had to make sure he bought her a pill the next morning.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ i deadass can’t tell if i like this or not and it’s bugging me 💀 hopefully yall fw it tho. Had to go back to my roots with an og rq cause nobody like answering me apparently! (apart from the two babes that did, love yall down <3)

[ninedeuce]

My vinyl collection (so far).

[jazziejax]

𝐍𝐨.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Kadeem ‘Unique’ Mathis x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Sometimes, having too much heart could be the death of you. It’s the main reason Mo acted the way she did, the answer was always no if it was t in her best interest. But for some reason, when trouble was dragged into her home, saying no was harder than ever.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - use of the n-word, mentions of violence, injury, language, mild angst, and a character struggling with head trauma-induced mood swings.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - this was more for me than anyone else, idk if yall get done with Joey over here like that. UNEDITED, sorry for any grammar mistakes and spelling errors. Hope you guys enjoy!!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 6, 055+

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐎𝐧𝐞, 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐰𝐨,

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟑

The orange streetlights outside cast long shadows over the brownstone’s stoop as Early sighed, tapping his fingers against his watch leaned against the side of his car. This was the third huff of breath he let out, becoming another as his eyes flickered around him, taking in the sound of the never sleeping city.

He looked up at the sound of the door unlocking, watching as his cousin emerged from the inside. She stood in the dim glow of the moonlight and the street lamps, coming out in an oversized Knicks T-shirt, her hair wrapped up in a silk scarf with rollers and Teddy bear slippers. Her fine was sure of hunched, her arms folded to offer herself some sort of beat so she wasn’t shivering in the cold.

She walked down her steps, a scowl on her face e at the sight of her shady and lowdown ass cousin.

They didn’t exchange any words she when stood before him, she just started at his tired face with her usual glare. She then aggressively shrugged at him, urging the man to bring up what this entire impromptu meeting at 2:30am was about. Early just sighed before leaning off of the truck and moving from in front of the door. She blinked at him before her eyes glanced into the window be no longer blocked. Her eyes landed on an unconscious man in his passenger seat.

Her deep brown eyes flickered from Early to the broken man beside him, and instantly, her expression soured more than before.

“No.”

Her tone was flat as she shrugged her shoulders with crossed her arms.

Early sighed. “Mo, c’mon.”

“No.” She repeated, firmer this time. “You know what time it is, Early? And you got the nerve to be knocking on my door with—” She gestured at man. “—this?Whatever this is, I ain’t interested.”

Early rubbed his forehead. “Look, I just need you to let him crash for a few days.”

Mo’nique cocked her head at him, a deep scowl on her face. “And why the hell would I do that?”

“‘Cause I ain’t got time to be playin’ caretaker.” Early said, exasperated. “You got a good heart. And a nursing license.”

Mo’nique scoffed. “You must think I’m stupid or some, nigga? What the hell did you bring to my doorstep, Earl?”

Early scratched his chin, looking anywhere but at her. “A favor, Mo. I did what I had to do, but I ain’t got time to be playin’ caretaker. I just need you to keep an eye on him ‘til he back on his feet.” He said. But Mo’s face didn’t change, she just started at the man, blinking once. Early hesitated, closing his eye and letting out a brief sigh before he then tried a different approach. “He ain’t got nobody else right now, Mo.” He said, staring at the younger woman with a slight solemn look. “He’s a good brotha in a bad situation.” He said.

She exhaled deeply, her gaze shifting back to Unique. He hadn’t said a word, leaned against the window, and he could see his labored breathing from where she stood. Her face was hardened into a frown as she looked back at her cousin, giving the man a duty look up and down. Finally, Mo’nique stepped aside. “Get him inside before my neighbors start asking questions.” She mumbled. Early let out a small sight at that, being his head in a quick prayer and a gesture of gratitude to the woman before him. He didn’t waste time. He guided Unique through the door, helping him onto the couch. Unique sank into it with a quiet wince, eyes closing for a moment.

She didn’t even linger to help Earky get the man out of the car, just turned on her heel to hold the door open for the men. She stood about ten feet away from the truck, watching as her cousin helped Unique out of the car. He was barely able to stand, leaning heavily against the door once he was up, his breathing ragged.

Early held the man up with a sigh, glancing down at him. “Man, you better not bleed on this lady couch. She’ll kill you ‘fore whatever did this to you finish the job. He strained out. Unique didn’t respond, just blinked sluggishly, his breath shallow.

Once he was closer, Mo’nique could see the quick stitch work on his face was holding, but he still looked like hell—bruises swelling, his jacket damp with blood that hadn’t fully dried, even though it looked like he changed. “What’s his name?” She asked as they stumbled up her steps, arms crossed. “They paused briefly in front of her, her cousin blinking at her before he answered.

“Unique.” He said, but there was a grumble of the same name from the man that held him. Early glanced at the beaten brotha in his arms, shaking his head subtly. Mo’nique just hummed. “Right.” She said before letting out a small sigh, not even questioning the weird name of the entirely odd situation.

Earl guided Unique through the door, helping him onto the couch. Unique sank into it with plush but old sofa with a quiet wince, eyes closed.

Mo’nique eased her way over to stand above him, arms still crossed. She furrowed her brows, looking at his face in the new lighting of her table side lamps. She slight winced. “You need to go to a hospital.”

Unique let out a soft groan and shook his head slowly. “Can’t.” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. Mo’nique blinked down at the man before her eyes drifted to her cousin. “You owe me, nigga. Big time.” She said, looking him up and down. Earl sighed. “I’ll get you your money when he’s able to give me mine.” He said, gesturing over to Unique.

“Nah, you’ll get me what I ask you to get me, when I ask.” She stated firmly. Early let out a sharp sigh, becoming pissed off with the woman but trying not to show it. “Aight, Mo, damn.” He said, scoffing softly at her. Mo’nique exhaled sharply before her gaze drifted back over to the man on her couch, eyes scanning Unique from head to toe. She was no fool. She’d seen hurt men before—neighbors, old boyfriends, folks who got caught up in things they shouldn’t have. And a man like him? The kind that avoided hospitals? That meant trouble.

And just let it walk on through her home and onto her couch.

She shifted her weight, glancing back over at her cousin. “How long?”

“Uh, a couple days.” Early gave her a tight smile with a meek shrug.

Mo’nique narrowed her eyes. “That’s what you say.” She scoffed.

Unique, still barely upright, lifted a shaky hand. “Just need a place to lay low.” He muttered in a barely audible and scratchy voice. Mo’nique wasn’t to sure if he could hear everything they were saying or not, but there were money where he genuinely look knifed out, so maybe they were fading in and out to him.

Mo’nique studied the tattered man for a beat longer, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. But if he dies in here, that’s on you, Early.”

Early clapped his hands together at that. “Aight, well… my job here is done.” He said with a small sigh.

Mo’nique shot him a glare. “You better get me my money for this, Early.”She warned again, only to get waved off by the older man. “Yeah, yeah. You two play nice.” He said.

Early grinned, patting Unique on the shoulder before turning back to walk to the front door. “You’ll be good, Nique. Mo’nique here got a soft spot for helpless things.” He said before letting out a small laugh.

Mo’nique shot him a glare. “Nigga, get the fuck outta my house.” She said as she waked behind him to the front door. She shut and locked the door behind him, engulfing the house in its usual silence that Mo’Nique enjoyed. She let out a tried sigh before moving back over to her living room.

Mo’nique studied him for a beat. Then, without another word, she disappeared into the bathroom off side of the living room hall. When she returned, she had a first-aid kit in one hand and a damp washcloth in the other.

She didn’t waste time. She had work in a few hours, and she wanted to get at least a little more sleep before her alarm went off.

Settling onto the edge of the couch, she pressed the warm cloth against his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood and grime. Unique barely stirred, his breathing slow and heavy. He was out cold, but every now and then, his eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused. He didn’t say anything, just blinked sluggishly before his lids drooped shut again.

Mo’nique didn’t bother speaking either. There was no need. She just worked in silence, making quick, light passes over his face—no harsh scrubbing, no stinging antiseptics. She wasn’t trying to wake him up, just clean him up enough so he didn’t bleed all over her couch.

Once she was satisfied, she dabbed a little ointment over the worst of the swelling. He barely reacted. His body was too drained to flinch.

With a small sigh, she tossed the cloth aside and snapped the first-aid kit shut. She leaned back, arms crossing as she studied him one last time. He looked bad, but he’d live.

And that was all she needed to know.

Standing up, she stretched her arms above her head, letting out a quiet yawn. “I don’t know what the hell I just got myself into.” She muttered under her breath as she grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and using it to cover him as best as she could. She then glanced at him one last time before turning away.

With that, Mo’nique shut off the living room light and headed back to bed for a few good hours of sleep before 8:00am.

But that sleep didn’t last as long as she wanted it to.

The apartment was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the old brownstone settling in the night. Mo’nique stirred, eyes blinking open to the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through her bedroom window. It wasn’t unusual for her to wake up at odd hours—sometimes it was just her body’s way of reminding her she needed water, other times, it was the silence itself that roused her. She glanced over at her clock, seeing 4:07am beaming at her with its red light.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, slipping her feet into her teddy bear house slippers before she made her way toward the kitchen. But as she stepped into the hallway, she heard it—a rough, labored cough from the living room.

Mo’nique paused, listening. Another cough, deeper this time, followed by the faint sound of shifting fabric, like someone struggling to move. The sound did scare her briefly before she remembered that she was now harboring a beaten man. Her lips pressed together, and she sighed, turning toward the living room instead.

Unique was still on the couch, but he looked worse than when she left him. His breathing was shallow, his head turned slightly toward the armrest, sweat dampening his forehead. His body was tense, as if even in sleep, he couldn’t find rest.

Then he coughed again, barely lifting a shaky hand to cover it.

Mo’nique frowned, shaking her head as she turned back toward the kitchen. If this fool didn’t want to go to a hospital, the least he could do was drink some damn water. She thought. She grabbed a glass, filled it, then hesitated before reaching for a straw. He was barely holding himself up earlier, and she had a feeling it wasn’t any better now.

When she returned to the couch, Unique’s eyes were half-open but unfocused, staring at nothing. He wasn’t fully there, lost somewhere between exhaustion and fever.

Mo’nique crouched beside him, setting the glass on the coffee table. “Hey,” She called softly. “You awake?”

Unique didn’t respond at first, just shifted slightly with a wince. Then, his lips parted, voice hoarse and slurred. “…Ronnie…”

Mo’nique stilled. Then she blinked in confusion.

Ronnie?

She didn’t know the name, but there was something in the way he said it—something dark, something raw.

Unique shifted again, a faint grimace crossing his features. “When I get to him…” he muttered in a threatening tone, but his voice was barely above a breath. “When I—”

His words faded into another cough, and Mo’nique sighed, grabbing the glass.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.” She murmured, slipping a hand under his shoulder. “You need to drink somethin’ before you choke on your own damn thoughts.”

Unique barely reacted as she helped lift him just enough to bring the straw to his lips. At first, he didn’t drink, and she was about to scold him for being difficult in his sleep. But then he took a slow sip, then another, his body trembling from the effort.

Mo’nique held the glass steady, pausing when his breathing hitched like it hurt just to swallow. “Take it slow.” She muttered. “Ain’t no need to rush.” She said softly, watching as he drank the water helplessly. She then felt the weight of him sag against her slightly, like he was too tired to hold himself up any longer.

After a few more sips, he pulled away, mumbling something under his breath.

Mo’nique furrowed her brows before she leaned in. “What?” She asked.

Unique’s eyelids fluttered, his voice even weaker than before. “…Shouldn’t be here.”

Mo’nique exhaled through her nose, lowering him back onto the couch. “Yeah, well. Neither should I.” She sighed.

She placed the glass back on the table and grabbed the small towel she’d left nearby earlier, dabbing the sweat from his forehead. He barely reacted, already drifting again, his face still tense even in sleep. Whatever happened to him—whatever this Ronnie did—it wasn’t just his body that took the hit.

Mo’nique sat there for a moment, watching his chest rise and fall in shallow breaths. Then she sighed, stood up, and pulled the blanket higher over him.

“Get some rest.” She muttered, more to herself than him. “You’re gonna need it.”

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The soft hum of Mary J. Blige’s “Love No Limit” played from the radio on Mo’nique’s dresser as she swayed her hips lightly, lint rolling her scrubs. Mornings in her home were hers alone—quiet, routine, familiar.

She had woken up before sunrise, her body trained to start the day early after years of working long shifts as a home nurse, not matter how much sleep she was running off of. She showered first, letting the steam ease the stiffness in her muscles, then wrapped her towel tightly as she moved through the house, making her usual rounds—checking her mail, pulling out an outfit, and applying a fresh coat of cocoa butter to her skin.

Now, dressed in navy-blue scrubs with a baby’s blue thermal under shirt, Mo’nique stood at her vanity, smoothing her baby hairs with a toothbrush dipped in pomade. Gold earrings, check. Brown lip liner, check. A final spritz of White Diamonds perfume? Check.

She gave herself one last glance in the mirror before heading to the kitchen with her nurses bad in her hand. But before she could reach for her coffee mug, she glanced toward the living room.

Right. Him.

She made her way over, peering down at Unique where he was still sprawled on the couch. He hadn’t moved much since last night—his face was still bruised, his breathing still shallow, but at least he was still breathing. His forehead wasn’t as damp as before, but she wasn’t taking chances. If this man was gonna lay up in my house, I ain’t about to let him die in it. She thought.

Quietly, she stepped away and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol from the cabinet, along with a couple of water bottles and a sleeve of saltine crackers. Setting them on the coffee table beside him, she huffed.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you,” She muttered before disappearing into her bathroom to grab the small trash can, just in case he needed it.

She glanced around the room, thinking. If he woke up confused, he’d need to know where things were.

Crossing her arms, she spoke, not even checking to see if he was actually listening. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” She said, nodding in that direction. “If you gotta throw up or whatever, I’d rather you do it there than on my damn couch but I brought the trash just in case.”

She moved her hand toward the kitchen. “If you need something else to eat, the kitchen’s right there. Ain’t much, but it’ll hold you over.”

Then, after a pause, she exhaled. “And if you need some clothes—” She hesitated, before rolling her eyes at herself as she scratched her forehead. “Bottom drawer in my room. Some of my ex’s shit still there. Ain’t nobody comin’ back for it, so you might as well.” She shrugged.

Unique didn’t respond, but Mo’nique didn’t expect him to. She eyed him for a moment longer before smoothing out her scrub shirt and grabbing her purse.

“Alright, I’m out.” She said, mostly to herself.

She turned toward the door, but before she stepped out, she glanced back one last time. Unique still hadn’t moved, but there was something about the way his fingers twitched slightly, the way his chest rose just a little more than before.

Mo’nique shook her head, muttering under her breath as she grabbed her keys.

“Don’t die in my house.”

And with that, she was gone.

The sound of the front door clicking shut barely registered in Unique’s mind. He wasn’t fully awake—not really. His body felt heavy, weighed down by pain and exhaustion, and even though the apartment had settled into silence, his head was still loud.

Ronnie.

His name stuck to the inside of his skull like gum on pavement, the memories flashing in and out of his mind. The weight of his brother on top of him, the sharp crack of fists colliding with his ribs, the copper taste of blood in his mouth.

Unique gritted his teeth, shifting slightly, but the sharp pain in his side had him hissing through clenched teeth. Shit.

For a few minutes—or maybe longer, he wasn’t sure—he just laid there, trying to steady his breathing. He could still smell the faint scent of Mo’nique’s perfume in the air, mixed with something warm, something homey. Cinnamon and Cocoa butter.

He cracked his eyes open just enough to see the living room bathed in soft morning light. His gaze landed on the coffee table—a bottle of water, some Tylenol, crackers. As well as the television remote.

He swallowed, his throat dry as hell. Had she left that for him?

With slow, careful movements, Unique forced himself up just enough to reach for the water. Even that small effort felt like hell. His arms were weak, his ribs screaming in protest, but he managed to unscrew the cap and take a sip.

The water was cold, running down his throat like relief itself.

He sat there for a moment, staring at nothing, before reaching for the Tylenol. It took more effort than he wanted to admit to shake out two pills, but eventually, he got them down with another sip of water.

Leaning back against the couch, he exhaled, his body still aching but his mind slowly sharpening.

Mo’nique. Her face was sort of blurred in his mind, nothing but brown skin and her lingering scent the only thing he cold decipher at the moment. She didn’t talk much, a woman of few words, but she wasn’t dumb because she didn’t ask any questions. She knew he wasn’t just some random man her cousin dumped on her doorstep. And yet—she ain’t ask no questions.

He frowned slightly and couldn’t help but ask his leg why.

Most people would’ve been running their mouths, pressing him about what happened, trying to figure out who he was, what he did. But she just took care of him, gave him space. Left him with what he needed.

Unique glanced toward the hallway next to the TV. He could hear her voice in his head, that slight edge of attitude as she pointed out where everything was.“Bathroom’s down the hall… Kitchen’s right there… If you need some clothes—bottom drawer in my room.” Unique clenched his jaw, considering. He did have to piss.

Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself up. His body protested the whole way. His ribs felt like they were wrapped in barbed wire, tight and unforgiving, but he gritted his teeth and swung his legs off the couch. His feet hit the floor, the coolness of the hardwood grounding him for a moment. Every movement sent sharp pains through his body, his stomach twisting in discomfort, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to stand.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself. The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of the city outside. Empty in a way he wasn’t used to. No buzzing street corners, no boys posted up, no threats lingering in the air. Just the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of an old fridge. Sunlight filtered in through the blinds, casting long slants of gold across the floor.

For a brief second, he considered just staying put. Letting sleep pull him back under. But his body had other needs, and he wasn’t about to piss himself on Mo’nique’s couch.

With slow, deliberate movements, he pushed up from the cushions, gripping the arm of the couch as his legs adjusted beneath him. The room tilted slightly, his vision swimming for a moment before he found his balance. His side throbbed something fierce, but he ignored it, dragging himself toward the hallway.

Damn. This shit had him weaker than he thought.

After steadying himself, he made his way to the bathroom. The door she’d pointed to was slightly ajar. He nudged it open, stepping inside and bracing himself against the sink before dozing his best to relive himself in the toilet.

Afterwards, she turned back to the sink. He washed his hands before splashed cold water onto his face, wincing as the liquid met the cuts and bruises along his cheekbone. It stung, but it woke him up a little more, gave him something to focus on besides the dull roar of pain. He avoided looking at his reflection too long—he knew he looked like hell.

Making his way back to the living room, Unique eased himself down onto the couch, his body already demanding more rest.

He exhaled, his mind still circling the same thought over and over.

Ronnie.

What he was gonna do when he got to him.

His fingers curled into a loose fist, but exhaustion pulled at him before he could think too hard.

Eventually, his eyes slid shut again.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

The elevator in the old Harlem apartment building was out again, which meant Mo’nique had to take the stairs. Five flights.

She huffed, adjusting the strap of her leather tote on her shoulder as she climbed. She had done this every weekday for the past two years, but that didn’t make it any less of a pain.

By the time she reached Apartment 5C, she took a quick breath to steady herself before knocking.

A few seconds later, the door creaked open.

“’Bout time,” Mr. James grumbled, leaning on his cane. “You gettin’ slower or these stairs gettin’ steeper?” He asked with an amused grin.

Mo’nique smirked. “I’d say both.” She said with a small huff.

The old man stepped aside, letting her in.

The apartment smelled like mothballs and Sunday dinner, mixed with the sounds of jazz records. The scent of simmering greens mixed with something sweet—probably Miss Doretha’s peach cobbler cooling on the counter. The couple had been married for 62 years, and even though they bickered nonstop, they still moved like two halves of the same soul.

“Doretha in the kitchen?” Mo’nique asked as she set her bag down.

“Where else would she be?” Mr. James muttered, moving to sit in his recliner. “Woman ain’t let me cook in 30 years.” He grumbled with his eyes trained on the television.

Mo’nique laughed, but as she glanced at him, she took note of the way he lowered himself into the chair. Slower than last week. More stiff.

“You takin’ them arthritis pills like I told you?” she asked with a quirked brow, already knowing the answer. Mr. James waved her off. “Them damn pills make me drowsy. I got things to do.” He huffed, only glancing at her before his eyes went back to ‘Good Times’.

“Like what?” Mo’nique asked, placing her hands in her hips.

“Like mindin’ my business.” He said.

Mo’nique rolled her eyes with a scoff, but she let it slide—for now. She had more pressing things to handle. “You is trouble, James.” She said with a small smile, giving him a faux reprimanding finger before turning away. She stepped into the kitchen, where Miss Doretha stood at the stove, stirring a pot of greens.

“Morning, sweetheart.” The older woman greeted, smiling warmly.

“Morning, Miss Doretha. Smells good in here.” Mo’nique said, inhaling deeply.

“Well, I gotta keep this man fed, or else he start actin’ up.” She replied in a moaning tired tone, tilting her head toward the living room as she rolled her eyes. All a roux about the man she loved deeply.

Mo’nique chuckled. “Yeah, I noticed.” She said before shitting her work bag down in the kitchen table. She grabbed a pair of gloves from her tote and got to work, first checking Miss Doretha’s blood pressure—steady, thank God. Then her blood sugar—a little high, but nothing too alarming.

“You eatin’ too many sweets?” Mo’nique asked knowingly, looking at the woman.

Doretha scoffed. “Just a little taste of cobbler last night.” She waved off.

“Uh-huh.” Mo’nique arched a brow. “And what about the night before?” She asked with a small tilt of her head.

The older woman smiled sheepishly. “Just a little taste then, too.”

“Yeah, that what I thought.” The nurse muttered. Mo’nique shook her head, but she couldn’t be mad. A little joy went a long way at their age.

After finishing up with Doretha, she went back to check on James—gently massaging his stiff joints, stretching his legs, making sure his blood pressure wasn’t creeping up again.

“You know, you keep skippin’ them pills, you gonna be walkin’ with two canes soon.” She warned.

Mr. James grumbled, but he didn’t argue.

After a few bite hours of care, a fresh round of bickering between the couple, and Miss Doretha forcing Mo’nique to take a plate of food to go, she finally packed up her things.

As she slipped on her coat, Miss Delores gave her a knowing look. “You alright, baby?” She asked, her brows furrowed softly as she looked at the woman.

Mo’nique blinked. “Yeah, why?” She asked.

“You seem a little… preoccupied.”

Mo’nique hesitated for a split second, a quick thought of the man laid up on her couch at this moment.

“Nah, I’m good.” She said, brushing it off. “Just a long morning.” She said softly.

Doretha studied her for a moment before nodding.

“Well, whatever it is, don’t let it worry you too much,” She said, patting Mo’nique’s hand. “You young. Got your whole life ahead of you.” She reassured. Mo’nique smiled, squeezing the older woman’s hand in return. “Thank you, Miss Doretha.” She sighed.

“And you need to be having some babies round here.” James chimed in from his chair in the living room. That caused Mo’nique’s smile to drop as she threw her head back with a sigh, although she was a bit amused, while Doretha turned ti the man with a frown. “James!”

“I’m not playing.” James said.

“Okay! Thank you, Mr.James!” Mo’nique cut in before the couple could start arguing. “I’ll see y’all tomorrow.” And with that, she headed out, the scent of peach cobbler following her down the hall, as well as the faint sound of the couple bickering.

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Mo’nique was sort of exhausted.

The winter chill clung to her skin as she made her way up the steps of her home, her tote bag heavier than it had been this morning. It had been a long day, filled with stubborn elders, last-minute pharmacy runs, and more stairs than she cared to count.

She let out a deep sigh as she unlocked the door, already looking forward to a hot shower and a quiet evening—except she had company.

When Mo’nique got back home, the apartment was dim, the only light coming from the TV flickering across the living room. She dropped her keys onto the counter that divided her small dining room from the view of the front door, kicking off her shoes. Her body was strained from such a long shift. She hadn’t expected much—maybe Unique would still be asleep, maybe he’d left, maybe he had gone through the food she left him.

But instead, she found him sitting on the couch, awake.

He wasn’t watching TV, though. Just sitting there, legs stretched out, fingers drumming lightly against his thigh. His face was still banged up, but at least he looked a little more like himself. More alert.

He turned his head as she walked in, his sharp eyes dragging over her. Assessing. She wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but she let him look. The aroma of baked chicken, rice, collard greens, and cornbread still clung to the takeout container she carried, the scent making her stomach tighten.

“Miss Doretha over-packed the plate again.” She muttered as she moved to the kitchen to set it down on the counter. “Swear she be actin’ like I got kids to feed or some.” She said. She wasn’t expecting a response, but Unique let out a low huff—maybe not quite a laugh, but the closest thing to one she’d heard from him yet.

“You hungry?” She asked, glancing over at him from the kitchen, which they could see each other from.

He hesitated for half a second before giving a small nod. Mo’nique didn’t make a big deal out of it. She just grabbed two plates, splitting the food between them, making sure there was a little bit of everything on each plate. She poured him a glass of water, too, then carried everything over to the couch.

“Here.” She handed him his plate first, setting the water on the coffee table before settling beside him with her own food, eyes in the TV.

Unique shifted, adjusting his grip on the plate, but the second he tried to lift his fork, his hand shook. It wasn’t much—just a tremor—but it was enough to make the rice slip right off his fork before he could get it to his mouth.

He clenched his jaw, tried again. Same result.

Mo’nique watched him struggle for a few moments before exhaling softly. She set her own plate aside, reaching over without a word. She scooped up a bite of food, bringing it toward him. Unique’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t argue at first. He let her feed him, eyes trained on her face, jaw clenching every now and then, but he took the food without complaint.

Until he didn’t.

The next time she lifted the fork, his hand shot up, smacking it away. Not hard, but enough to make the food drop back onto the plate.

“Nah.” He snapped, voice low and tight. “Ain’t no damn baby.”

Mo’nique paused, leveling him with a look. Unique was breathing hard, nostrils flared, anger flickering behind his eyes. She could see it, see the way it bubbled up from nowhere, hot and fast. Head trauma would do that—shortened fuse, paranoia and anxiety, emotions running wild before he could stop them.

But she wasn’t the one.

She leaned back slightly, taking the plate from his lap and setting it in the table in front of them before folding her arms. “And I ain’t got time for no attitude.” She said, voice cool. “You was obviously struggling because you were beat to fucking hell and back, what, a day ago? I was just trynna help you out. But I don’t have to do a damn thing. And I damn sure won’t take you talking time be any type of way.” She said, her tone not even ending in anger as she simply started at the man. “So, you hungry or not?” She asked, tilting her head towards the plate on the table.

Unique didn’t respond right away, jaw tightening like he was trying to swallow his pride.

“’Cause if not,” Mo’nique continued, picking up her plate again, “You can sit here and sulk while I eat. Don’t make no difference to me.”

The silence stretched between them. His fingers twitched against his thigh, and for a second, she thought he’d snap again. But then he exhaled sharply, glancing away.

“…Just gimme the damn plate,” He muttered.

Mo’nique blinked at him before she handed it over without another word, watching as he adjusted his grip and forced himself to eat on his own. His eyes didn’t look at her as he ate, caught in his own thoughts and concentration on eating properly. It was slow, and a little messy, but he managed.

And she let him.

Because as much as she wasn’t about to put up with his bullshit, she understood his frustration. He wasn’t used to this. To needing help. To accepting it. He was no longer the same man he was before and they both knew that, even if she had no clue who he was. So she couldn’t be angry with him, even if he was being a tad rude and now staying in her house. But what Earl said was right. She had heart, and even if it didn’t seem like that all the time in the outside, she was too forgiving.

@notapradagurl7 @foxybrownsugababe @blkandchic @jazzieinthefuture @thecookiebratz @playgurlxoxo @planetblaque @harmshake @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sageispunk @onyxstones-world @keyera-jackson @satoruya @urfavblackbimbo @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@blackerthings @caashmoneynae @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @araybiaa

[todayinhiphophistory]

Today in Hip Hop History:

Joey Badass was born January 20, 1995