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internalsealpanic · 4 years

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Dancing In and Above the Starlight

summary: There is nothing to do but dance the night away.

a/n: Since I am depresso expresso today here is some fluff!

warnings: Depression, heights, suicidal ideation

You curl your body into the sheets, limbs escaping the gnawing cold. Your eyes are wide open. You watch as glittering snow falls away. There’s a press of static in your mind. Maybe your brain is finally short-circuiting. You really should have been asleep an hour or two or five ago. Even if you check the clock now, it won’t make any sense. On some level, you are lucid. You recognize the characters on your taped together alarm clock. The red characters on its screen… you recognize them as numbers and letters. Your head feels like it’s full of cotton.

You shift again. You hit replay on the voice mail.

Kon’s voice comes over the speaker, a light warm sound cutting through the viscous atmosphere of the apartment. “Hey, babe! Could you grab like 20 cheeseburgers on your way home? It’s- Uuuuuuh… It’s for science. Yeah, totally-”

You replay it again.

“Hey, babe!”

And again.

“Hey, babe!”

And again.

Kon’s voice always managed to soothe you, smoothing out your fraying nerves even on the bad days. But today was one of the bad days you never tell him about. The kind that kept your limbs locked together.

You really should just call Kon at this point.

You don’t.

You don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want to talk to him about these bad days. The days when you have to shuck off the quick wit and unbridled confidence. You don’t want to tell him about how you want to open your chest, peel it back bone by bone until the thing rolling and shifting in your chest escapes. You can’t bear to tell him about how on these days red is your favorite color or how good it would be to step out of your skin. You will never tell him about your feverish need to feel the wind as you fall from a great height.

Waking up like this feels like waking up in a coffin with your hands bound. There is a shriek caught in your throat between your lungs and throat. It sits there sharp and unreachable. You feel so small.

You shift, looking into the soft glow of your screen. You type Kon’s number. It’s easy. You don’t think too much about it. At least not until the dial tone.

You sniffle brushing away the tears as if he could see.

The dial tone keeps ringing.

He hates you.

You massage your throat. You test out your voice. It comes out a mockery of itself. It’s scraggly and unpleasant.

The dial tone keeps ringing.

He hates you.

You brush away the tears again. They won’t stop. They streak down like fat rivulets of syrup down your face.

The dial tone keeps ringing.

He hates you.

You hang up. You’re shaking and sniffling and you can’t stop crying. Your body is caught between existing and not. There isn’t enough of your mind there for you to feel substantial.

Once your nerves settle and your body reforms into something tangible, you pull on a sweater. Your feet touch the floor. It’s cold like you expect but the solidness of the feeling makes you jump back. You look at the clock. It still makes no sense.

You slink out to the balcony. You wrap your arms around yourself, phone burning in your pocket.

You lean you over the railing, head in your arms, eyes fluttering closed as you drink up the scenery. You can hear the honking of car horns and the flutter of wings. The city below you was alive. A living creature with flowing blood and a beating heart.

Living was what happened to other people. For you, there was no room for it. Not when you are filled with everything else. It was just a skill you never quite got a hold of. You think this as the wind whistles past your face.

You open your eyes a fraction then shut them again mimicking the shuttering of a camera. Behind your eyelids, you can see the glittering lights of the city.

Your phone rings. You flinch. Maybe it’s your boss. Or a coworker. Or…

You fish it out of your pajama pants. You debate on whether to answer it or just let the phone fall.

From this height, your phone would be obliterated. Completely. You balance it carefully between your fingers. If it falls, you’ll have an excuse to ignore your boss. But you’ll have to pay for a new one and more importantly, you won’t be able to listen to Kon’s voice mails. You make an exasperated noise and decide to answer.

“Hey sugar,” comes the smooth cream of Kon’s voice. It kind of reminds you of freshly made custard. You smother the catch of your breath by pressing your mouth into your sleeve. “Babe, you ok?”

Of course, he heard.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe, voice sounding frighteningly robotic.

“Liar.”

“Prove it.”

You can hear the playful hum in Kon’s voice. “I can make you sing all kinds of tunes, hun,” Kon teases. You can just picture him winking. “I’ll make you talk, doll.”

“Hilarious, Kent, ” You bite out, fighting down a blush.

“Seriously, Sugar, what’s up?”

You hate the concern in his voice. No, no. You don’t. You love your boyfriend. You just- You just hate that you made him worry. “I- I’m just a bit down, Kon. I promise I’ll be better tomorrow.” You run your hand through your hair and you bury your face further into your arms. “I promise.”

“Babe, tilt your face up.” You sigh, shaking your head but thankful for the change in subject. You tilt your head, keeping your eyes closed. “Kon, wha-” You feel the press of warm lips against yours. They’re chapped ever so slightly and you can smell the scent of leather and popcorn on the wind. Kon smiles against your lips, mischief tugging at his them. Slowly, you open your eyes and you’re greeted by the column of his throat. It takes the span of a few seconds to realize that Kon is hanging upside down, limbs angled like he’s Spiderman hanging from his we b. Your eyes widen in surprise and Kon laughs, realigning himself to face you properly.

“Lemme guess, you guys watched the original Spiderman trilogy?”

“You know us so well.”

“I just know that there's only one of you that owns a flat screen the size of my wall and that bastard is a nerd.”

“Don’t call Tim a nerd. That’s extremely rude.”

“He deserves all the rudeness I have to give after last week’s… what’s the word?”

“Fun?”

“Fun?” you snort. “If you find being thrown by a supervillain fun, then yeah.”

“I just call that kinky.”

“I’m going to hang up.”

Click.

Ring.

Click.

“YOU ACTUALLY HUNG UP.”

“I stick to my word.”

“Lil’ shit.”

“I’m your little shit.”

Kon kisses your nose. “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Did you need anything, Kon?” He hums floating away from you drawing out the silence. You are going to smack him. Probably not but you like to think you can stay mad at him long enough to follow through with the threat.

“I want to show you something,” he says, extending a gloved hand towards you. “It’ll be good. Promise.”

You stand on the balcony railing, feet feather-light. You hold on, gripping the wall tightly. Your eyes do not wander down even as a rush of wind blows the hair out on your face. Your blood is thumping in your ears.

“Trust me?” The words weigh too heavy sending you into a dizzying vertigo. He can’t ask that of you. He just can’t. You almost slip. You don’t know whether you would fall forward or backward. You take a breath, long and deep.

“Kon, do I seem like the kind of person who would just stand on a balcony railing just for anyone?”

“Dunno, babe, you’re quite the Romantic.”

You blow out a breath, shaking hands steadfast on the wall. The drop is dizzyingly long from this angle. The length of it feels mind-boggling and uncertain.

“C’mon, gorgeous,” he coaxes, voice honeyed iced tea. The taste floods your mouth mixing with the bitter doubt clambering your throat.

He reaches his hand out, grey eyes alight with sincerity. You swallow even when your mouth is bone dry. You take his hand, feet peeling away from the metal as you let Kon’s powers take hold of you. Your skin tingles, gooseflesh prickling here and there. It tickles and it’s almost enough to distract you from the hundreds of feet of empty air beneath your feet.

You’re light, insubstantial. Your breath ceases. Your body braces for gravity to take hold. Your eyes screw shut, lips brushing against Kon’s neck as you breathe in his familiar scent. A scream is burning in your throat until you feel Kon’s hands firmly on your waist, his chin resting on your hair.

“Don’t let me fall,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

Kon gently cups your face. “Wouldn’t dream of it, gorgeous,” he winks, “I have better ways to make you scream.”

You laugh, pressing your lips against his, your laughter passing as vibrations between your lips.

“Are you gonna open your eyes yet, gorgeous?”

“Nope!”

“Not even for lil’ ole me?”

“Why would you pull that on me you manipulative shit?”

“Because I love you?”

“You are the definition of ‘you’re lucky you’re cute’ ”

“No, I think I’m lucky cus you’re cute.” You open your mouth to protest but the syllable die on your tongue.

Above you is a tapestry of stars extending beyond eternity. Below your bare feet is a sea of lights, incandescent in its vividness. The wind in your chest rises. Wonder and awe and miracles swimming in your veins as you go through vertigo for the second time that day. It was like the first time you saw the racing roll of a jet. A marvel. Pure wonder plucked from the abstract and made solid.

Your breath catches as you take everything in. The world is so wonderful. Your grip on Kon loosens as you maneuver your body so you could see it all. Your mouth whispers something that is lost in the wind.

“What do you think, sugar?” Kon asks, grip on you firm. He won’t let you fall. You are slack jawed and speechless. Eyes wide as you stare back into his, all the lights above and below you making his glitter in a barrage of colors. He pulls you close, one arm wrapped around. A gloved hand brushes a tear away from your face. He kisses your forehead, all softness and warmth. He doesn’t beg you to stop crying or tell you that it’s all going to be ok. He just lets you be. Your head bows, forehead pressed against his shirt. You let the tears fall towards the bustling city.

Kon rests his chin on your head and you feel the rumble in his chest before you even hear the tune. “Fly me to the moon~” he sings into your hair as he holds you close, his hands sliding to your waist,“let me play among the stars~” You sniffle, resting your head on his. You smile against his shoulder. You feel a giggle tugging on your lips as you two sway in rhythm with his singing.

“”Let me see what spring is like on, A-Jupiter and Mars~”

“You are so fucking cheesy,” you laugh, sore and bright and genuine.

"Still your favorite cheese ball though," he chuckles. You do not argue. You simply press a kiss to his jaw and watch the twinkling lights around you.

"Fly me to the me to the moooon~" This time you sing along, careful not to step on Kon's toes. He presses his forehead against yours as you both sing off key and sway haphazardly in the wind.

You sing and dance in and above the starlight.

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Thanks fir reading!!! Happy New Years. I will edit more later.

Tag list: @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes, @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-horizon11, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#kon el x reader #conner kent x reader #conner kent imagine #superfam #superboy #dc x reader #dc fanfic

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gamerwoo · 4 years

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Wonwoo: Atlas

Characters: Wonwoo x female reader

Genre/warnings: mafia au, angst, little bits of fluff here and there but it just adds to the angst tbh, alcohol, smoking, Woo being depresso

Word count: 2,632

Summary: Atlas shrugged his shoulders, said he'd drop that boulder. Call me in the morning when I'm sober, find me in the corner in a coma.

a/n: this was inspired by the song atlas by keshi (and if u like sad boy vibes i highly recommend his music!!!). things in italics are flashbacks (also i didn’t even listen to atlas for half of this i just listened to call me kevin play the sims lmao) ALSO im doing 2 other keshi songs (probably for mingyu and hongseok but idk) and while this technically is a mini series using keshi songs, they won’t be a continuation of this fic. they’re going to be their own lil things. ok that’s it goodbye

2 soon | the reaper

Limping down the street, the streetlamps being the only source of lighting, Wonwoo’s mind couldn’t help but wander. There were no cars going by at this time of night, not even a cool breeze to listen to the shaking leaves in the trees. The street was dead silent other than his heavy footsteps as he tried to make it home on his own. He was sure God or whatever higher power out there was out to get him lately since on top of everything else, his car had broken down and he was left to walk the rest of the way after calling Mingyu to make sure someone would get the car.

Had anyone been walking around this time of night, they’d probably call the police seeing Wonwoo awkwardly walking down the street with his hurt leg. Despite the nice suit, it was unbuttoned, slightly torn, and stained with splatters of blood. His white shirt underneath was half undone and splattered with blood as well, his tie was hanging loosely around his neck, his hair was disheveled, his right eye was beginning to bruise, and the left corner of his lip was caked with dried blood. There was a trail of dried blood going from his nose to his top lip as well, and his tired expression only added to his awful appearance.

“Oh my god, Wonwoo!” you gasped when you spotted him from the window, Joshua and Minghao rushing out behind you.

It was one of the first times he’d come home beaten up. You didn’t know about his line of work when you’d first started dating, but when it began to become more serious, he had to break and tell you. Finding out your boyfriend was in the mafia worried you for obvious reasons, to a point where for a while, two of the men he worked with had to stay at the house with you to make sure you didn’t go off trying anything stupid. But you did often pace the kitchen, checking out the window that faced the street to see when his car pulled in. And one night, you saw him be helped out of the car by Seungcheol because Wonwoo was so beaten up.

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured you as you rushed to him.

“Careful, careful,” Seungcheol warned, not wanting you to throw yourself into him or anything. Jeonghan had just stitched up his gunshot wound, but Wonwoo made him swear not to tell you that much.

“What happened?” you asked, looking him over. He looked about as messy as his clothes, and that was saying something since he was missing his jacket he left the house with, and his shirt was barely hanging onto his body by thin threads. You moved to Wonwoo’s other side, putting his arm around your shoulders. “I’ve got him.”

Seungcheol carefully leaned your boyfriend’s weight onto you, letting you practically carry the poor man inside. Wonwoo managed to smirk at how worried you were. He knew it just meant you cared, and that meant the world to him.

“You’re so cute,” he chuckled, which then turned into coughing that only worsened your anxiety about his injuries. “Let the boys handle it, okay? I’ll be fine.”

You scoffed, “Not a chance.”

Wonwoo pulled a carton of cigarettes from his pocket, taking a cigarette and a lighter out from the pack. He put it between his lips and lit the end before taking a long drag and letting the smoke waft out from his mouth. His eyes locked on the driveway of his house as he recalled how many times you’d dragged him inside, sat him down on the couch or leaned him up against the sink in the kitchen and patched him up. He smiled fondly, remembering all the times you’d scolded him for so long until you were just repeating yourself, only to sigh and say, “You know I love you, right?”.

But now, he walked up the driveway alone. Despite his limping, there was nobody to carry him home. He had to push himself up the steps, pausing on each one to brace himself for the next. He walked into the house, expecting the echo of his footsteps that he was used to even during your relationship, but not used to the emptiness he felt in the house. At least when his shoes would hit the hardwood as he walked to the bathroom to clean himself up, he knew you were upstairs. But now, he knew he was the only one in the house, and that was a new feeling. A new but vaguely familiar feeling of being alone. He was alone before you, but he was so accustomed to your presence that he forgot what it was like to not have anybody there when he came home.

“Wonwoo--”

“Go back upstairs,” Wonwoo huffed, trying to get to the basement while Junhui and Mingyu helped him.

This time it was worse. You were used to him coming home later, so you no longer wasted an hour or two pacing by the kitchen window, but instead waited until you heard the heavy sound of his boots against the hardwood in the hallway, going toward either the kitchen or the bathroom. He wasn’t always hurt, but this time, he was in worse shape than he’d let you know. That was why there were more men with him.

“But--”

“_____,” he growled, his eyes glancing up at the stairway you were now frozen on. He’d used this voice before -- only a handful of times to show he was serious and didn’t want to fight you on whatever it was -- but it always made you freeze completely where you were. “Go.”

Mingyu and Jun continued to help him to the basement, Seungcheol and Soonyoung following behind them. You waited until you heard the basement door close before dropping your head and going back up the stairs to your room.

Glancing away from the staircase, Wonwoo continued down the hall to the kitchen. He grabbed the bottle of bourbon he left unfinished on the counter before going for the basement door. He threw it open, not bothering to close it behind him because there wasn’t a point to anymore. He was lucky he managed to get down the stairs without falling down them before he went over to his little corner where his desk was. They’d used the basement for plenty of things before, but it was mostly where he kept his ‘business things’. That’s why you weren’t to go down there -- not that that didn’t stop you from checking on Wonwoo from time to time when he had locked himself away down there.

Wonwoo flopped down in his chair, opening the bottle and taking a swig. He stared across the room, trying to grasp the reality that he was alone in the house. He wasn’t sure when it would finally sink in, but it hadn’t yet. It had been a month and he still had himself thinking he could hear your footsteps as you tried to sneak downstairs to check on him, or the shower running with your soft singing drifting from under the door. But the harsh truth was that you were gone an he was just imagining these things.

At first when he got home, you were the first thing he would check on. He wanted to know about your day, what you did, how you were feeling. He was grateful when you had dinner made for him -- even if it was cold by the time he got home -- and loved relaxing on the couch or in bed with you when he got home. But he slowly started seeing you less and less. He didn’t see you most days at all, so you looked forward to the nights. But more often, he started politely turning down dinner to go the basement -- that eventually turned into straight-up ignoring it to go do more work at his desk. Instead of checking up with you, he started going straight to the bathroom to clean himself up before silently grabbing a small snack and retreating to the basement until you were already fast asleep and he was crawling into bed for 2-3 hours of sleep. It got to a point where you barely saw Wonwoo at all.

And as Wonwoo took another drink right after letting out more cigarette smoke, he knew it was all his fault. He got too caught up in his job. He loved you, but he didn’t realize he wasn’t showing it like he should’ve. He made you feel unloved and forgotten and overlooked. It wasn’t a 50/50 situation, it was 100% his fault that you left him.

He put out his cigarette in his ash tray and eyed the bottle before he put his feet up on his desk and took a longer drink this time.

“Wonwoo,” he heard your voice in his ear, trying to shake him awake after another late night. But he had the day off today, and you were excited to spend every moment with him that you could. “Wonwoo, wake up!”

A smack to his cheek had his eyes shooting open as he let out a gasp.

“Jesus Christ, Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathed, sitting back as he realized the older man was awake, “I thought you were fucking dead. How much did you drink?”

Considering the slap Mingyu gave him didn’t hurt as bad as the metaphorical slap that his awful reality gave him, clearly not enough.

“None of your business,” Wonwoo slurred as he struggled to keep his eyes open, definitely hung over from drinking until he passed out -- again.

“You need to stop doing this,” the younger boy sighed, giving Wonwoo a stern look, “not even just because Seungcheol’s fed up with it, but because it’s not healthy.”

“What does it matter?” he grumbled, refusing to get up. Instead, his hand searched the floor for his bottle of alcohol.

“Will you stop with that shit? Come on, Wonwoo, _____ leaving doesn’t mean the end of the world!”

“Have you ever been in love?”

When Mingyu was silent, Wonwoo scoffed, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Well it was still your own fault she left you,” Mingyu stated, rolling Wonwoo onto his back with his shoe. “You said it yourself, so you can’t say it’s not true. You neglected her and now you’re throwing yourself a pity party when you did it to yourself.”

“Get out of my house,” Wonwoo groaned, deciding to cover his ears instead of search for the bottle of bourbon.

“You’ve been pulling this shit every fucking day for a month,” Mingyu spat, ignoring how obviously annoyed Wonwoo was getting. Everyone was annoyed with Wonwoo’s behavior so this was only fair. “Someone always has to waste their time and come here to make sure you didn’t drink yourself dead.”

“Then stop checking!” Wonwoo shouted, finally peeling his eyes open to glare up at Mingyu. “Go the fuck away!”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wanted to take them back. You stood in front of his desk, your own angry expression dissipating and being replaced with hurt instead. The two of you had been arguing because he’d been so distant, and while you understood that the basement was where he got more work done, you didn’t see the need for him to continue working when he was away ‘working’ all day. But his anger bubbled over and now he’d crossed the line.

“Wait, _____--”

You just shook your head at him, eyes filling with tears as you rushed to go back upstairs. Wonwoo called for you to come back, but you just ignored him, slamming the basement door closed. Wonwoo groaned and sat down in his chair, rubbing over his face with his hands.

That was definitely the biggest push for you to leave.

And now here he was, in the same room his life started falling apart. Why couldn’t he wake up to you like he thought he was? Better yet, why couldn’t he wake up and have everything just start over? He wanted to go back to when things were good and he wanted to keep them that way. But life didn’t work that way. It couldn’t just reset, it just kept going.

But Mingyu had to be a nuisance and interrupt Wonwoo’s dreams where everything was actually going well and he was happy.

Mingyu sighed, taking a seat in Wonwoo’s desk chair. He rested his elbows on his knees, running his hands through his hair. Why did Seungcheol have to send him to check up on Wonwoo? Why not Seungkwan or Seokmin? Somebody who had people they loved and could relate to Wonwoo? No offense, but Mingyu didn’t give two shits about Wonwoo’s broken heart.

“Look,” Mingyu said a bit softer, trying to be more level-headed about this, “I get you’re upset and you’ve never had to deal with heartbreak so you don’t know how to cope. But with this kind of...lifestyle, you should really need to come to terms with the fact that nothing will ever really go the way you planned it to.”

“That isn’t good advice,” Wonwoo sighed, not even trying to sit up. His eyes had even closed again, so Mingyu knew the older man didn’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon. “Just go.”

Mingyu stood, rolling his eyes and fixing his suit jacket, “Seungcheol’s going to be pissed, y’know.”

“Good for him.”

“Whatever,” Mingyu sighed. “I’ll send Seungkwan tonight to make sure you haven’t slipped into a coma or something.”

Wonwoo only hummed in response, waiting until he heard the Mingyu’s footsteps go up the stairs before closing the basement door. Then he finally pushed himself up off the floor, stumbling the whole time. But it was only to retrieve the bottle of bourbon with only a little left at the bottom. So he took the bottle, wobbled his way up the stairs to the kitchen to get another, and then carried on to the living room, finishing off the first bottle.

“Well, well, well,” you grinned seeing Wonwoo emerge from the basement. He was still in his ‘work’ clothes, but everything was undone to make it a little more comfortable for him since he was at home, “look who decided to show up.”

“What’re you watching?” he mused as he wandered into the living room and glanced at the TV. “Wheel of Fortune?”

You shrugged, “It’s 2am.”

“Eh, it’s not the worst show,” Wonwoo sighed as he let himself drop back onto the couch beside you. He normally would’ve scolded you for staying awake so late, but it was a Friday night so he couldn’t give any excuses as to why you needed to be in bed. Besides, he wanted to hang out with you for a bit before he was way too exhausted. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, shifting so you were leaning into your boyfriend’s side.

You kept your eyes on the TV, playing along like you had been before. You still continued to say your answers out loud despite Wonwoo sitting right there, but he merely chuckled. He thought it was kind of cute.

You were so immersed in the show that you didn’t even feel his gaze on you for the last five minutes.

“_____.”

“Hmm?”

You turned your head to look at him, seeing him smiling at you with so much fondness.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Wonwoo opened the second bottle as he stared at the TV, his reflection in the black screen reminding him that he was alone -- not just on the couch, but completely, utterly alone.

He put the bottle to his lips.

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womenofcolor15 · 4 years

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Lil Boosie Brags (Again) About Having An Older Woman Perform Sexual Acts On His 12-Year-Old Son, Twitter Drags Him For It

Lil Boosie is getting dragged again for sharing how he involves his teenage son and nephews in sexual acts with grown women. More inside…

Lil Boosie is coming under fire for comments he made about allowing his 12 and 13-year-old son and nephews engage in sexual activity with GROWN women. Yes, he proudly admitted this and now he’s being dragged for it.

While on IG Live, Boosie revealed he’s raising his kids different. And he’s not lying about that. He said he has allowed his underage son and nephews to receive oral sex from a grown woman as he bragged about “training these boys right.”

“Ask any of my nephews, ask any of them, ask my son. Yeah, when they was 12, 13 they got head,” Boosie started off saying.

“Yeah, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Hell yeah I got my f*ckin’ son dick sucked. You f*ckin’ right. Yes, a grown woman, grown, super grown … checked his ass out. Checked all my nephews out, super grown. Is she grown? She checked me out. I know what the f*ck she did to them, she checked me out, that b*tch. I’m getting them prepared, man.”

He then said he'd rather they have that done to them instead of them watching gay cartoons.

“It’s better than watching cartoons. That’s why they have iPhone 11s. They can watch as much porn as they want. It’s better than them watching cartoons with two men kissing. Yeah, it’s like that. Yeah, we raise them different. That’s just how it is.”

Peep the clip below:

Looks Like Louisiana Department of Children & Family Services will be Knocking on Boosie Door After the Rapper went live Saying that he had a Very Grown Woman Perform oral on His 12 and 13 Year Old Son. (Sick He needs to be locked up) #pressplay #boosiebadazz #queen_music08 pic.twitter.com/tBSTufGMVi

— Queen_music08 (@QMusic08) May 12, 2020

This isn't the first time Boosie mentioned something like this. Back when he was criticizing Dwyane Wade for allowing his son to be referred to as his daughter - Zaya Wade - and allowing her to wear crop tops and nails, Boosie mentioned his young sons engaging in sexual activity.

Peep what he said about his son's getting pleasured orally below:

youtube

Well, Twitter is letting him have it for his problematic parenting choices, and rightfully so:

People can’t handle Dwayne and Gabrielle allowing their child to live out loud but are completley fine with Boosie’s stupid ass getting grown women to molest his underaged kids?

Okay.

— ΛDRIΛN (@AdrianXpression) May 12, 2020

Let's make this clear. This is sexual assault of minor children. Ave he facilitated the sexual assault of his own child. This is NOT OK. I don't condone this. Niggas like Boosie will never understand what unconditional love is. This nigga need to be in jail. pic.twitter.com/ey1ks0vfJ9

— Trnd$tar x Nat Turner is my inner spirit (@BlackHippy77) May 12, 2020

Now... would he hire a GROWN man to fuck his daughter??..I lost respect for boosie..vice versa that man wouldve been locked up https://t.co/AvNy7DsVPZ

— King Suge (@KingSuge2) May 13, 2020

Imagine if you heard a celebrity say he paid for a grown man to molest or rape his 12 year old daughter. I think the reaction would be much different.

This is why men often feel they cannot speak up about sexual assault. Society has them thinking the shit Boosie did was “normal”

— Chels (@BEautifully_C) May 13, 2020

Boosie was misgendering a child and insinuating that a child being trans is child abuse. Meanwhile he was sexually abusing kids.

We honestly tried to warn yall about these stupid men with this logic. I hope those kids are taken and put in therapy. That man is fucking sick.

— Andé Karim (@_AndeKarim) May 12, 2020

Toxic male culture is having fathers like TI check his daughter’s hymen every year until HE thinks she’s grown enough to have sex, while Boosie orchestrated his sons to be raped by a grown woman like it’s some sort coming-of-age ritual.

— Tony Pajamas (@dinixluna) May 13, 2020

for the clowns defending boosie and saying you would do the same for your sons if youre 12 y/o daughter want her pussy ate you gotta arrange to let a grown man eat her out

— depresso espresso (@CRXCHHEAD) May 13, 2020

Boosie was just calling Dwayne Wade a bad father for being accepting of his daughter claiming that Zaya isn’t old enough to know what she wants. Yet he’s paying grown women to perform sex acts on his 12 year old sons! Y’all prefer pedophelia over homosexuality and it’s disgusting

— fatima (@thefatimacam) May 13, 2020

+If you doubt misogyny, male privilege, & rape culture exist, imagine the backlash (& child protective service calls) if a popular female rapper bragged about having a "super grown" man perform oral sex on her minor daughters & nieces. Yet, y'all let Boosie slide. #dontBSyourself pic.twitter.com/1B4CsTefzV

— Sunn m'Cheaux (@sunnmcheaux) May 12, 2020

Any person thinking it's OK for a grown person to perform sexual acts on a child is sick and needs to seek professional help. The person who was hired to perform the act should be in jail for rape of a child, because that's exactly what they did, if what Boosie says is true.

Photo: Jamie Lamor Thompson/Shutterstock.com

[Read More ...] source http://theybf.com/2020/05/13/lil-boosie-brags-about-having-an-older-woman-perform-sexual-acts-on-his-12-year-old-son-a

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