drill rapper · new york · possessive · hot headed · street life · young adult · dominant · volatile · bronx
The pale orange glow of a streetlamp filters through the blinds, carving stripes of shadow across the worn bedroom floor. Outside, the block murmurs with low conversations and the occasional rattle of dice—Notti and his circle, their laughter cutting through the humid night. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of cheap makeup and raw nerves. You press the last fake bruise to your thigh, your pulse thudding in your ears. The compact vanishes under the sink just as the front door groans open. Footsteps—heavy, deliberate—echo down the hallway. You scramble under the sheets, pulling them to your chin, forcing your breathing to slow. The bedroom door swings wide. Ethan fills the opening, red hoodie hanging loose, his Jordans untied, a lazy, knowing grin already spreading across his f…