Your OnlyFan

Over the years, Erik found himself traveling home less and less. It wasn’t that he didn’t like being there, that was quite the opposite actually. But with his mounting classes, mother’s traveling schedule, and the hours his father was putting in at the clinic, there weren’t many times that the three of them could actually be together at once. 

Thankfully, the planets had aligned and opened a rare opportunity of having family dinner that Erik was not going to miss. 

Not like his mother would even let him.

The familiar chime of her ringtone pulls a smile across his face. She always knew when she crossed his mind.

“Yes my beloved,” he answers, sounding every bit like his father.If she weren’t so upset with him, she’d have returned his sentiment.

“Oh so you are alive,” her thick French accent bellows through the receiver. “Have you forgotten where home is?”

“No ma’am,” Erik tries to pacify before she cuts him off again.

“So when exactly do you plan to bring your narrow black ass home?”

Erik blows raspberries with his lips before responding.

“First of all Ava, everybody knows I got your hips, so ain’t a thing narrow over here,” he chuckles, pulling the phone away from his ear when she starts cursing him out in her native tongue.

“Je ne sais pas à qui tu crois parler mais tu as une heure pour avoir ton cul noir ici,” she screeches.

“Yo, ma chill! I’m coming down the street now,” he explains. 

Her voice softens at this, switching back to English.

“Oh,” she breathes. “Drive safe baby.” The line disconnects. 

Even as he rolls his eyes at her antics, warmth blooms in his chest. The sight of the familiar green 67 Chevy Impala pulling into the driveway before him made him smile as well.

“The prodigal son returns,” N’Jobu teases as soon as Erik exits the vehicle.  

“So both of y’all with the shits today? Okay,” Erik nods. “Real funny pops.”

“I’m always with the shits,” his father chuckles before clapping him on the back. “No, what’s funny is your best friend coming home before you. How’d you manage to let Chauncey beat you here?”

Erik kisses his teeth and looks towards the heavens. 

“Who even invited this nigga?”

“This nigga does not need an invite. I’m always welcome in the Stevens/Udaku household. Thank you very much.”

“This is true,” N’Jobu says.

“Ugh, whatever.”

“Look at my boys,” Ava grins when the three heads enter her kitchen moments later, still bickering as usual. 

N’Jobu rounds the counter, placing a loving kiss on Ava’s forehead, cheeks, and lips. 

For as many years as his parents have been together, they were still very much in love. Stealing kisses and meaningful touches whenever they could, no matter who was watching. 

A fact that suddenly tugged at Erik’s heartstrings uncomfortably. 

“Aye, y’all need to chill with all that. I’m too old to be anybody’s big brother.”

“But you asked for a brother,” Ava reminds with a cheeky smile. “Remember?”

“Yeah, when I was four. And then the universe gave me this nigga,” Erik says, pointing a thumb at his best friend behind him. “Honestly, I’m starting to think the universe gave me a sister in a boy’s body,” Erik teases.

“And as brooding as you are, you love this nigga so shut ya ass up,” Chauncey sasses.

“Do I really though?”

“Anyway, you want me to go get the wine from the cellar, ma?”

“If you wouldn’t mind, yes. Thank you,” Ava responds as she lays her head on her husband’s chest. 

“That could be you, but you playing,” Chauncey grins as he passes Erik. 

“Playing?” Erik questions following his friend down the stairs to the cool, dry basement. The walls are lined with bottles of every size, shape and color from his parent’s travels. 

“Nigga you know what I mean. You’re damn near 30, still acting like you don’t wanna be in love.”

“Here we go with this shit again,” Erik rolls his eyes as Chauncey picks up his mom’s favorite white wine. “I didn’t come down here to talk to you about your fantasies. Why you rat me out?”

Chauncey smirks, knowing full well what Erik was referring to.

“Boy please! Super Snooper would’ve found out regardless! Every other conversation is ‘Erik this, and Erik that.’ The way she acts, you’d swear you been serving her your dick on a silver platter. Speaking of dick, did you give it to her?”

“That aint the point, nigga.” Erik fires back, arms crossed.

“So you did? How was it on a scale of magnificent to bitch what the fuck is this shit?”

“Nigga can you focus for one second,” Erik asks, pushing his glasses up to rub the bridge of his nose. “She could have exposed me. You eva think of that?”

“But she didn’t, and you’re welcome by the way. Now answer my question. Scratch that, I’ll just watch it later. I know it was good.”

“I can’t fuckin’ stand yo ass.”

“Then sit, hoe cause I ain’t leaving.”

“And why are you subscribed to my OnlyFans again?”

“Nigga support black businesses.”

As the two start their journey back upstairs, Chauncey switches gears.

“Aight, enough about Caramel Drop Thunder Thot,” he announces. “What the people really wanna know is what happened when you took Little Miss Khamisi home the other day? You neglected to inform me.”

“What was there to tell?” Erik asks, keeping his voice light. He knew his best friend could smell bullshit a whole plantation away. Especially when it came to him. “I walked her back to her crib and made sure she was good.”

“Made sure she was good?” he asks, pausing at the top of the steps to turn back with a smile. “Oh? You took sis’ temperature? You used your dick or?”

This nigga, Erik groans internally before pushing past him.

“C’mon E, tell the truth and shame the Devil. You only chose to fuck with Dinisha because she’s the Slut Master 5000 version of the little virgin.”

“Bruh! You’re the second person to call her a virgin,” Erik blurts out with a squint in his eyes.

“Nigga! Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder could see that her little inexperienced ass has your nose wide open. Ole isn’t she lovely headass,” Chauncey finishes as they step back into the kitchen.

Erik kisses his teeth and lowers his voice as he follows, conscious of his parents not fully out of earshot. 

“How many times I gotta tell you and C that I don’t fuck with my students?”

“Number one, nigga, you’re not a teacher. Number two, ain’t nobody said a thing about you fucking her. I said like.”

“I swear I don’t know why I put up with your ass,” Erik broods.

“Whatever yo. Just keep fucking her evil twin or whatever you doing,” Chauncey walks away, belting the chorus to Isn’t She Lovely loudly.

“Oh I love that song,” his mother remarks before handing a few plates from the cabinet behind him. “Go set the table and do not put bananas on Chauncey’s plate this time.”

“I mean, he’s an ape and that’s what they eat,” Erik calls with a smile.

“You lucky Mama Ava standing right there or I’d tell you something vulgar,” Chauncey retorts with a roll of his neck.

“We all know what kind of bananas you really eat, Chauncey,” N’Jobu interjects with a smile.

“Oooowwwww,” Chauncey calls back before he sashays away to get the wine opener.

“Niggas wanna skee wee so bad,” Erik says, mimicking Teresa Topnotch.

“Don’t play with me, nigga. Those colors are terrible together.”

“He’s not wrong about that,” Ava calls, dusting the elephant statue on the mantle.

After dinner, Erik and Chauncey sit back on the sofa watching Ava and N’Jobu twirl around the den. N’Jobu drops Ava into a dramatic dip, shooting Erik a sly smile when their eyes meet.

“This is the move that got her, son,” he smiles before righting her once more.

“And this is the move that got him,” Ava grins, bending her knees to throw it back like she used to.

“What I just tell you niggas? I ain’t babysitting nothing if you get pregnant, Ava,” Erik fusses goodnaturedly before the soft sound of bubbles popping pulls his attention to his phone.

Bubble Blower: Mamba, when you gone come give me my facial? 

His dick gives a very telling twitch in his tech fleece. Apart from the fact that Amber gives immaculate, soul-shaking head, every single video he’s posted featuring his beloved Bubbles did numbers. 

Erik glances up at his parents before cutting his eyes at an all-knowing Chauncey. 

“You going downtown, ain’t you?” he questions, swirling his wine glass. 

“Mmhm,” Erik hums back as he answers the message. 

Mamba4Eva: you closing shop tonight? 

Bubble Blower: yessss, come now. My mom just took her last customer. 

Mamba4Eva: omw. Finna give yo ass lockjaw. 

“You’re leaving already?” Ava asks as her son rises from the couch. 

Erik nods, pocketing his phone. 

“I’m gonna give Amber a ride home. She’s closing.”

“Okay, give her my love,” Ava smiles. 

 “And yours,” Chauncey mutters, making Erik flip him off.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says before planting a kiss to his mom’s cheek. 

“Translation: It’ll be 3-5 business months before I see you again, noted,” his mother teases as he walks towards the front door.

“You really don’t have any faith in me, do you?”

“Nope, because I know my son,” Ava concludes, throwing a hand on her hip for added emphasis.

“See, just for that Ima prove you wrong,” Erik challenges as he slides behind the wheel of his beloved Spyder.

“I’ll be waiting.”

Erik pulls up to the spa, parking his car in the space closest to the door for a quick getaway. Passions Day Spa is one of the most popular spas in all of Oakland, specializing in everything from microdermabrasion to body contouring. Amber’s mother opened the shop while she was still in high school, later hiring her daughter as lead esthetician once she finished school.

He walks in, eyes low from the backwood he smoked on the way there, small Gucci camera bag in hand. Amber had once expressed how much she loved his blazed out look, so he often got high before seeing her. She stood behind the counter, blonde hair tucked neatly into a loose ponytail and hot pink scrubs fitting her petite frame nicely. She glances up, almost beaming when she sees him. Suddenly, the last patron was taking entirely too long to pay for her service.

“Erik!” Mrs. Diaz calls as she steps from behind the curtain that divides the front of the store from the massage rooms. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You look just like your beautiful mother.”

Erik flashes his signature smile, the one he knew would make Amber’s knees weak.

“Thanks, Mama Diaz. I apologize for dropping by so late, Ambs asked me to give her a ride home.”

“Oh, I could have done that,” she says quizzically, glancing back at her daughter. 

“Yeah, I know. But I was going to treat her to a creamsicle from Magic Fountain and catch up with her on the way there.”

Amber coughs to hide her whimper at the thought of what Erik had planned.

“Her and those damn creamsicles. Behind is gonna turn into one eventually. And she wonders why her skin breaks out sometimes,” Mrs. Diaz says with a shake of her head. “Alright. Amber, make sure you lock up tight. It was good to see you again, Erik. Tell your parents I said hello.”

“Will do, Mama Diaz. Make sure you tell pops hello for me.”

“Bye Ma!” Amber calls before turning her impatient gaze on the silver fox in front of her. “Mrs. Patterson, please. I need to lock up. And your husband has been outside waiting for you for the past ten minutes.”

“Just one minute, child. I know that loyalty card is in here somewhere,” the older woman states, not pulling her gaze from her pocketbook.

“We can just apply the rewards later. Here.” Amber says, handing over the bag and rounding the counter to grab her elbow. “Thank you so much for coming. I’ll see you next week. And please remember to apply your SPF.”

Erik chuckles as the older woman leaves the building.

“White people stay feeling like they immune from everything. Even the damn sun,” Amber fusses finally able to lock the building up for the night.

“Anxious are we?” he asks with a sly smirk that sends all of Amber’s blood to her core. The steady thumping between her legs had grown more and more persistent the longer Erik stood sizing her up.

“Shuddup!” she pouts, crossing the threshold to their room. Instead of actual lighting, small scented candles line the northern wall of the room, accenting the violet hue of the walls. Selenite, black obsidian and amethyst crystals accompany the wax jar and extra towels on the eastern wall, while two speakers rest in the upper right-hand corner. On the rare occasions where he actually got serviced, he’d ask her to play Wakandan meditation music. 

“Ooh, someone’s feisty too. You missed Mamba that much, Bubbles?”

Amber didn’t respond verbally, instead, she grabbed the camera bag from him. Carefully, she removed the sleek, black Canon EOS M50, propping it against the hot wax jar for an optimal view. She and Erik both loved the camera because of how crisp their videos came out.

“Yo, if any of that shit gets on my camera or my lens, that’s yo ass,” he threatens.

“Didn’t I tell you to hush?” Amber asks before dimming the lights and coming to sink to her knees in front of him. Eagerness coats her features as she reaches up to pull him out of his sweats. Nearly squealing when she finds no draws in sight. 

Freeballing again, she laughs internally. 

“Who you think you talking to, Dr. Pimple Popper?” he growls, thumping his hardening length against her lips. “You betta say ‘ahh’ like a good girl before I give someone else this sweet nectar you crave so much.”

Amber wastes no time. She pulls her head back, opening her mouth as wide as she can and looks up at him through her lashes. Drool nearly drips off her tongue at how excited she was making Erik cuss under his breath.

Whew! I forgot this bitch had the Soul Snatcher for a throat, he thinks as soon as he slides neatly to the back of her throat.

Erik reaches back, using the wall to hold himself up as Amber sucks all of his life force from his body. 

“Who taught you how to suck dick this good, you nasty bitch?” he questions on a particularly knee-buckling suckle. 

“You did, Mamba,” Amber moans, her mouth still stuffed with his meat.

“Mamba taught you well,” he coos, gently stroking her cheek, smearing his thumb around her swollen lips as she continues to bob up and down on his thick shaft. He loved the way her mouth stretched around him like she could barely take him in. She was one of the few who could. “You missed this dick, didn’t you?”

“Mmm,” she moans and swallows around him. What had only been a week had felt nearly like a month of missing this. Face fucking was Amber’s number one kink and Erik was an expert at his craft.

“Fuuuck,” Erik hisses and cups the back of her head ready to take over the show. He wasn’t going to last with the way she was sucking him like Noo Noo from The Teletubbies. Thick spit coats every inch of his dick, dripping down his balls and into his sweats as he works himself faster with her throat. The loud choking noises sound like the most beautiful music to his ear. His eyes nearly roll back into his skull before he forces himself to focus in, not wanting to miss even a second of Amber’s lewd expression.

“Shit. Keep doing that shit and this Mamba gone spit all over that pretty little face of yours,” he threatens as beads of sweat collect on his forehead. “You want Mamba Juice on ya face, Bubbles?”

She nods anxiously, her own eyes low like his dick was her drug. Popping off, she pleads gently to him as she strokes him just the way he likes.

“Paint my face, Mamba,” she moans before pushing his entire length down her throat.

“Shit…fuck! Damn,” he curses after a few deeper strokes and just before he pulls back and empties his balls onto her face. Breathing hard and lowly keening through the entire experience. 

Her expression was one of pure bliss and satisfaction. This is all she had been dreaming of for weeks and it finally happened. 

Erik reaches over her head to grab his camera, angling it down to her face.

“Blow the people some bubbles, babygirl,” he instructs. She happily obliges, blowing a few of different sizes before licking the remaining cum from her top lip.

“Tastes like honey,” she compliments before Erik ends the video.

He readjusts himself in his sweats before tossing her a towel to clean herself up and takes a few seconds to get his barrings. In all honesty, his legs were a little weak from the strength of his orgasm, but he wasn’t about to let Amber know that. Her head was already big enough.  

Erik turns to find her in the mirror, scooping his cum into a small, glass jar.

“Girl what the fuck you doing?” he booms, startling her slightly.

“What the fuck it look like I’m doing?” she asks calmly. “I’m bottling your cum. You don’t come home enough and I need my facials when you ain’t here.”

“So whenever you think about a nigga, you just gone rub my nut on ya face?” he questions with a raise of a thick eyebrow.

“No, nigga. I use it with the rest of my skincare routine. This shit cleared up my acne in a week so in all honesty, I should thank you.”

Erik was taken aback. Though he knew semen was protein-packed, he didn’t think it was powerful enough to cure acne.

Maybe I should bottle this shit my damn self, he thinks before turning his attention back to Amber.

“You better not be using this shit on your clients,” he snaps playfully.

“Of course not, Mamba,” she purrs sweetly. “This right here is our little secret. My own personal skincare Holy Grail. Now, about my creamsicle,” she retorts, grabbing her phone and other personal belongings from her locker.

“You just got it. I got some papers to grade so I ain’t tryna be out too late. I’ll call you later on this week. I actually need to get serviced.”

“Drop by Friday. I have an open five o’clock spot that comes complete with a happy ending,” she smirks.

“Pencil me in,” he calls with a wink before heading towards the exit. “You need me to give you a ride home or you gone catch an Uber?” 

“My car is out back, I just didn’t want moms to be suspicious about you being here.”

“Aight. Catch ya next time, Bubbles.”

“Bye Mamba.”

The air in California was much different than he was used to. Though it was a lot cooler in climate, it held a smell that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He steps out of his blacked-out Porsche Panamera and looks up at the building he would be staying in, scowling at the fact that it looked a lot smaller than the pictures led on.

He keeps his head low as he passes a few occupants of the apartment building. Unlike his father, he was a bit antisocial and distrusting. Especially when it came to Americans. None the less he had a mission and he fully intended to complete it. 

Stepping inside the building he sends a quick mental thanks to his team. The building was well lit, in a decent neighborhood, and updated with the “finest” security system upgrades in a twenty-mile radius of the university. 

He tongues at the inside of his lip, the skin still tingling from the session a few hours prior as he waits to reach his assigned floor. It had taken much coaxing to get his father to even consider the idea of his only son going out into the unknown. 

“It’s a rite of passage,” he remembered explaining to his father for what felt like the millionth time.

“One you do not have to complete. Have you forgotten what happened the last time one of us took this on? How it tore our family apart?”

“Yes. He met a woman and they fell in love, producing a child in the process. When has alienation been something you couldn’t control?” he questioned hotly. 

“When it is done to protect the people I love.”

“Protect?” he questioned before laughing bitterly. “If that’s what you call love, I’ll be nothing like you.”

It took several talks with his mother before his father’s blessing was begrudgingly granted. He was on a plane less than ten hours later.

Fatigue weighs so heavily on his shoulders that he barely takes in the decor around him when he enters his flat. Instead, he slumps down in the large chair staged in his office, pulling up the files he’s been pouring over since receiving them. Memorizing faces, persons of interest, and key locations he would need to visit in order to gather the intel necessary to send back home.

Two weeks was all he was given. A longer amount of time than he had actually anticipated. It was more time than strictly needed but he would milk every second he could. 

He had something to prove, after all.

Soft blue light emitting from his right wrist caught his attention and made him smile. Not even a full day from home and she was already calling.

“What is it now?” he chuckles when he patches the call through, happy to see her face.

“I see you finally made it, brother. How was your flight?”

The drive home was peaceful. Erik’s thoughts drifted from his mother’s bright smile at his presence to Amber’s face dripping with his freshly spewn baby gravy. To say that his day had been eventful was an understatement.

He pats his full belly and glances over at the two full pyrex dishes on his passenger seat. His mother packed the plates with a hefty amount of leftovers, even slipping over half the dish of apple pie in with the rest of his spoils. He may not have room for the confection now, but he was going to fuck it up when he got home 

The familiar ding of his cellphone alerts him that his latest video is ready for posting and anticipation grips him gently, forcing his foot further down on the accelerator. 

He waits until he’s safely back home to log back into the app, surprised to see a new message from Machichi95.

Machici95: Your content aight or whatever.

“Just aight?” he chuckles to himself. “Damn, tough crowd.” 

Erik purses his lips, contemplating whether or not he should gift her the video before everyone else. Being of royal descent, money wasn’t the issue. He truly enjoys having others watch him perform. He smirks, resolving to send her a snippet of the last 30 seconds.

Black Mamba: Just aight? Damn. Check this out and let me know how you feel about it.

He stares at the username, wondering if the stranger behind Machichi95 was really his favorite innocent virgin. The thought sends a zing through his blood and has him licking his lips in pleasure. 

Nah, Hari wouldn’t be on something like this, he says internally before closing the app. He briefly thinks back to a conversation he had with Chanel in which she pointed out that virgins didn’t use OnlyFans.

Why would they pay for something they could see on Pornhub for free?

A valid point was made. Only true freaks visited sites like OnlyFans. His content would probably give poor Mahari Khamisi a heart attack. 

Erik was just about to start on the stack of ungraded assignments before a new message from Machichi caught his attention.

Machichi95: Post it.

He raises an eyebrow at her straightforward response. 

BlackMamba: That’s it? No compliments or nothing?

Her next message came quick, like she was sitting with her phone in hand.

Machichi95: Nigga are you really in my DMs fishing for compliments about your stroke? Look at your follower count, you don’t need the validation. Plus, she did all the work if we really being honest…

One thing was for sure, she was definitely a little flip mouthed thing.

“Feisty little bitch,” he mused aloud with a lopsided grin before his thumbs tapped out his response. 

You touched yourself to this, didn’t you? 

Machichi95: Mind ya business, mAmBa

No you didn’t just Spongebob me… Ok Machichi.

Machichi95: gOoDbYe mAmBa

“This lil nigga sent me the damn Spongebob meme!” Erik cackles loudly, shoulders shaking in his seat. This girl was a fucking trip and a half and he would be lying like shit if he didn’t admit that he was really interested in if her face matched her attitude. 

She probably cute as shit, he sighs gently before locking and pocketing his phone once he regains his composure. Whoever little Machichi was, Erik was sure he had just met his new favorite subscriber.

“Sooo… David apologized,” Hari explains as she delicately wraps her hair up in her satin scarf, trying hard not to disturb the silk press her mother had just given her. Sanaa had Facetimed to tell her that a few of her pieces had been selected to be displayed at a local gallery and conversation just progressed from there.

“Oh?” Sanaa called out in surprise. “Monkey Man apologizes? Whodathunkit?”

“Right?” Hari giggles, before picking up her phone to answer Mamba’s latest message. After watching him face fuck a girl who blow bubbles with his cum, it was very hard to think of him as just Teacher Nigga Erik.

“Mahari Khamisi Owens, if you pause me one more damn time! What the hell you over there looking at?!” Sanaa’s shrill tone pulls Hari’s face back into view.

“Okay okay, relax. I was answering a message.”

“What message? Who you over there texting?”

“This wanna be Slytherin mascot nigga,” she explains, climbing into her bed.

“Oooh, you got another message from King Dingaling. What y’all talking about?”

“First of all, don’t you ever in your natural black life call him that again,” Hari fusses, unable to keep the humor from her voice.

“But am I wrong though?”

Hari’s silence told her everything she needed to know.

“Thought so, now answer my question.”

“Well, see…,” Mahari says before launching into a very detailed account of the video Mamba had blessed her with.

“Oh, fuck,” Sanaa nearly moans into her pillow after Hari wraps up the story. “I cannah wait until he fucking posts this shit.”

“The girl blew bubbles with his cum,” Hari includes.

“Oh she always does that,” Sanaa laughs at the incredulous expression on her friend’s face. “Was he wrong though? You finger popped ya shit to him sis?”

Hari buries her hot face into the pillow near her. 

“Why do you have to say it like that?” 

“Biiiiitch! You flicked your devil button to Teacher Nigga?! Ya nasty.”

“Oh like you haven’t?” she shot back.

“Girl I was flicking my shit every other night and between classes but we not talmbout me.” Sanaa smirk widens. “Lemme find out you got an oral fixation.”

“Good night, Five.”

Sanaa fell back on her bed with laughter. 

“Good night, Three. I hope your dreams are filled with nothing but cum shots and nocturnal emission.”

“Aww thanks,” Mahari says with a sweet smile. “I knew you loved me.”

“You so damn aggy, bruh!” Sanaa groans exasperatedly before ending the call. She made a note to start taking new best friend applications. Hers was obviously defective.

The soft melodic voice of Faye Maena fills Hari’s ears as she gathers the study materials she’s collected over the weekend. Dr. Watson’s midterm was one of those tests that everyone considered a “make or break” moment in their pre-med career. She’d heard countless horror stories from a few of the upperclassmen that frequented the library over the two semesters she’s worked there. Anything from silently swearing at the scantron sheet to openly sobbing could be expected on Thursday and Mahari was determined to fall onto the brighter edge of the very colorful spectrum of outcomes. 

“You got this, sis,” she hypes herself up as she slips on the long denim jacket she’s pulled out of the back of her closet, wanting to give her sweats a little more of an elevated look. 

Transferring the music from her speaker to her headphones, Mahari grabs her things and leaves out for class. 

“Letsa goooooo,” she whispers to herself with a chuckle.

It was that time of year where the foliage changes finally touched down in their area. Full-bodied colors of reds, oranges, and yellows seemed to take over the entire campus nearly overnight filling Hari’s autumn loving heart. The desire to frolic through the fallen leaves was high but she tamped down on the emotion, choosing to sing lowly instead. 

“I just want your hands around my throoooaaatt,” she crooned in a vain attempt of reaching Ari’s alto. “Sooooo ooooohhh, just a little choooooke.”

“Oh word? Lil innocent Khaleesi likes to be choked? Noted.”

Hari’s entire face flushed to match the bright red of the leaves. Of course this nigga would walk up while she was listening to one of her favorite songs.

Hari turns slowly to his advancing figure. Much like her, he was sporting his own, slightly destroyed denim shirt that he had sitting over a pair of camo jeans. Her eyes bounce from his combat boots up into his smiling eyes when he speaks again.

“Okay sweat and Jordans, but make it fashion,” Erik teases as he gets closer to her, looking her over with an appreciative gaze. 

“You just gotta be aggy, huh? Can’t ever just compliment a girl and go.”

“You right, my fault,” Erik says, a playful smirk tickling the corners of his mouth. “I see you with the straight hair, serving Dragon Mother realness,” he chuckles.

“It is known,” Mariah answers in passing.

How is this nigga always around? Is she stalking him? Hari questions to herself before issuing a playful threat.

“Keep on, Ima throw my notebook at ya head this time, Riah,” she chuckles.

“Why you so violent? You got a Napoleon complex or sumn?” Erik questions, bumping her with his shoulder gently to get her moving towards the Science Hall again.

“You really want me to beat yo ass on this fine Thursday, huh Teacher Nigga? And here I was about to compliment you on ya drip.“

“Talk that nasty shit to me, Khamisi,” he leers with a lecherous wink, opening the door for her. “And you the one tryna lowkey match my fly. You really fuck with a nigga, huh Hari?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes, not even bothering to dignify him with a response as she heads towards her seat.

“Fix ya face,” Mariah calls to David as she slides into the seat behind him. He didn’t even realize he had been staring. Mahari and Erik seemed to have grown closer in the last few days and David is hard-pressed to admit it bothers him. 

It definitely bothered him.

“I don’t know what you talking about,” he lies.

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t, lover boy,” she says with a shrug.

David flips her off before turning his gaze back to Mahari.

“You look nice,” he compliments, attempting to ignore the situation growing in his pants at the sight of Hari’s freshly straightened hair. There wasn’t a thing wrong with it curly. But the sleekness brushing against his bare arm with every subtle move she made to get her desk setup had him picturing it wrapped around his fist as he pounded into her from behind.

Focus nigga.

Her smile is as sweet as she smells, thanking him just as Dr. Watson enters the classroom.

“Good morning class,” he calls out, patting his portly belly. “I was going to go over causes and consequences of inadequate management of acute pain as outlined in the syllabus but,” he turned and regards Erik for a moment, “a little birdie convinced me to use the hour to solely focus on the midterm study guide.” 

“You the muthafuckin GOAT!” Mariah screams from her seat causing an outpour of applause and joyous shouting.

Finally this nigga is good for something, Mahari silently praises.

“Okay, settle down,” Dr. Watson chuckles deeply. “We will go over the study guide in its entirety and, if there is any time after, I will hold a Q&A”

“Make sure you pay attention this time,” Erik says to Mahari as he hands over copies of the study guide to pass behind her. 

“Shut yo aggy ass up,” Hari mumbles back to him. 

“Speak up, Princess. Closed mouths don’t get fed in my classroom,” Erik taunts.

“This ain’t even your classroom,” she pouts silently.

The rest of the hour is extremely informative. As promised, Dr. Watson went over each bullet point listed on the study sheet, answering the few questions Hari had scribbled down before they had even reached the unfortunately short Q&A session. Loud groans filled the hall when the Doctor announced he only had time for two more questions, citing that the class had already gone over five minutes and he needed to set up for his next group. 

But Hari has enough in her notebook that she felt confident she would at least get a passing grade. Though she truly wanted to keep her perfect grade point average. She would have to put in some time over the next few days if she wanted to reach her goal. 

She might as well pull someone along for the ride.

“You wanna meet in the library and study together tonight?” Mahari asks David once class is dismissed.

He groans internally, cursing Chauncey and the rest of the chapter for scheduling a meeting tonight of all nights. Niggas swear the cared about academics until it came time to care about academics.

“I would, but we got a mandatory chapter meeting tonight. Depending on how long it lasts, I can swing by once it’s over,” he offers. He really needed to study and doing so with Mahari had several perks to it.

“That’s fine,” she says, packing up the rest of her belongings.

“Aight, I’ll see you later,” David says before jogging off. He wanted to get a few things out of the way to clear his schedule to even have a chance of making it to their study date.  

Erik stands leaning against the desk, waiting until the rest of the class left before addressing her.

“So Little Miss Khamisi needs a study partner tonight, huh? I could help with that if you’d like,” his deep voice taking a tone that hit Hari straight in her lady parts.

“Who?” she asks looking around the empty hall comically. “I know not you, especially since you couldn’t even answer my questions last week,” she sasses, tossing her bag onto her shoulder.

“You mean the questions you ain’t have?” he challenges with a suspicious lift of an eyebrow.

“Put that caterpillar down, that’s not even the point.”

“You really coming for a nigga today, Khaleesi,” he calls as he steps closer. He bends down so that they’re eye level and lowers his voice to an octave deeper than she saw him drill Chanel prior to class. “You must want me to pull you over my knee and give you the spanking your daddy should’ve.”

Hari stands mouth agape, unable to visualize anything other than what he’d just said. She’s sure she looks as arousingly stumped as she feels but she can’t even begin to wipe the expression off her face as she gazes into his deep stare. An antelope caught in headlights.

First of all, nigga yes!

Erik smirks, taking her silence as a means to continue his speech.

“So I’ll ask again,” he starts, tucking a piece of hair behind her small, pierced ear just to feel her skin, “you need a study partner or not?”

Mahari nearly answers “Yes, Daddy,” but instead nods, not trusting her own voice in the moment. 

“Cool,” he backs out of her space suddenly. “Take my number and text me when you make it to the library,” he instructs, reaching for her phone. 

Well that was easy, she thinks as he types his number into the keypad before calling himself so that he’d have hers as well.

“See you tonight, Khaleesi,” he smirks, picking up his bag and leaving her there shook.

“I am so fucked,” she whispers to herself.

You have no idea, Princess, he thinks to himself.

It’s around 9 o’clock when Mahari texts Aggy Teacher Nigga to let him know she was on her way to the library. She’d planned to text him sooner but had gotten lost in reading It. Though she’s seen both versions of the movie, there was something about reading the actual novel that boosted the scare factor for her.

He responds, letting her know that he was already there and to meet him in study room four. Hari contemplates Facetiming Sanaa for some company along the walk but immediately decides against it. The last thing she needed was Sanaa encouraging her to pop her pussy in the nonfiction section.

Butterflies begin to wreak havoc in her stomach as soon as she pulls the heavy door open and waves over at Oaklyn. She truly hadn’t realized that she’d willingly agreed to be cooped up in the library with this nigga after the sun went down. He flirts with her unabashedly in front of an audience, she had no idea what he was going to be capable of when they were alone. 

Her brain mockingly begins to sing Just The Two of Us as she taps her foot anxiously on the elevator. 

Although Erik was a flirty flirting headass nigga who flirts, she also knew he was harmless. Well… as harmless as a nigga who slings dick the way he does could be. 

Mahari, her brain calls, you in danger, girl.

“Shutup,” she whispers to herself before pulling the door open to Study Room Four.

Inside, she finds him seated in the corner furthest from the large floor to ceiling windows. The black drifit hoodie clings to his muscles like it is painted on and the gray sweats he wore left nothing to the imagination.

Is this nigga freeballing?

“Heeey Khamisi,” he sings playfully, leaning back in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand.

“Dawg, I’ve been in here 0.5 seconds. Must you commence the headassery so soon?”

“Headassery is part of my charm, m’lady,” he grins, earning a deep eye-roll from Mahari. This was about to be a long session.

To Hari’s surprise, the pair settle into a casual study session, with Erik being a little less aggravating than usual. He explains the study questions in explicit detail, Anesthesiology for Dummies, he calls it.

“You callin’ me a dummy, nigga?”

“If the glass slipper fits, wear it Khaleesirella.”

“Ima punch you in the damn face, nigga.”

It’s not until she stands and stretches nearly an hour into their session, that something catches her attention. A certain blue lounge chair in the corner that has her eyes nearly bucking out of her skull. 

Wait a second, she thinks to herself. This nasty ass nigga. What if he’s planning on filming this? 

Her breathing quickens slightly before reason settles in once more.

Bitch chill, it’s just a study session.

“Wassup witchu?” Erik questions when he notices her change in mood. 

“Nothing,” she lies. 

“Lying really ain’t ya strong suit,” he counters. “What’s on that pretty ass mind, hm?”

“Ain’t nobody lying, Teacher Nigga. And how you know my mind pretty? It could be a dark and mysterious tomb filled with poisonous gases and such.”

Erik’s eyes smolder at that as he leans in closer to her. 

“Not darker than mine, Princess.”

“Yeah, I bet yours is disgusting,” Hari sneers, closing her notebook. 

“You have no clue.”

Mahari pulls her lip through her teeth. This would be the perfect time to ask some really hard questions. Like who exactly was “C” or Blossom or whatever he was calling her today. Or why he chose to create the account in the first place. She could tell by his swag that he either had money or came from money, so that didn’t seem to be the real end goal. So why?

She also wanted to know why he chose Dinisha as his new PowerPuff selection but something told her she might get more of an answer than she bargained for.

Mahari had just opened her mouth to speak when her phone vibrated loudly against the table.

Monkey Man: Hey just got out of the chapter meeting, you still there?

Hari side-eyes her phone before flipping it onto its face. The action piques Erik’s interest.

“Who that?” he asks, attempting to peek over her shoulder.

“None of ya business,” she deflects, sliding the device away from his prying eyes.

“It’s ya nigga ain’t it? Ooh, Little Innocent Mahari a cheater. Lemme see,” he tries again, standing to attempt to grab it. Erik laughs heartily, leaning over Mahari’s cowering frame.

Any slick words Mahari may have dies as soon as she looks up at him. He was much closer than she expects and his scent fills the air around her. The dark scent of pine, oak, moss, and danger engulf her swiftly as the shiny metal of his cuban link dangles in her face. For the second time in less than twelve hours, Mahari founds herself stuck in the presence of this stupidly attractive nigga. Her mouth waters and she’s sure that if she tries to speak now, Niagara Falls will erupt from her throat.

The spaced-out look on Hari’s face makes Erik smirk.

“You in that trance again, Khamisi. Wassup?”

Hari blinks twice before her usual demeanor resets and her face clears.

“Nigga get ya big lips out of my face!” she squeaks, causing Erik to chuckle.

“They look soft don’t they?” Erik asks in all his aggy in glory, leaning forward towards her face. His warm, minty breath tickles her lips when he asks, “You wanna feel?”

Yes, but nigga mind your business.

Still no words form, her eyes are round as saucers and purely innocent. So innocent that Erik finds himself leaning in closer before he can stop. His weren’t the only lips that looked soft.

“You good, Hari?” he calls, hooking his finger under her chin to tilt her head up. Fighting the urge to ghost his thumb across her enticing, full lips. 

Hari playfully pushes at his chest, unintentionally allowing her fingers to rest against his perfectly sculpted pecs before pulling her hand away.

“Nigga back up! This ain’t social distancing!”

Erik laughs at this, playfully poking her cheek before sitting down.

“You something else, Hari. Whoever the nigga is, he has something special.”

This simple sentence causes Hari’s heart to flutter. This fine ass, aggy ass nigga thought that she was something special.

“I don’t have a man… Not that it’s any of your business,” she says pointedly.

“Oh word? Good to know.”

Erik honestly should have known better. With all the “cosmic energy” he’d gotten from the Universe over the past 48 hours about this damn girl, studying alone with her in a room he’d already had sex in was not the right move.

He put on a good front although he was distracted. Going over the topics he knew would be on the test that he’d created himself, pulling her attention away from things that weren’t important, patiently watching as she talked her way through the more challenging topics herself, all while glancing over at the wall he’d had C on every so often; his mind forcing him to place Hari in that position. Her intelligence and determination to understand the dense topics they covered over the last few weeks turned him on more than her physical appearance. His dick a rabbit’s foot, thumping impatiently from within the confines of his boxer briefs. 

And then he’d almost fucked around and kissed her. Twice at that. They had been engaging in a heated debate about which was the better anime between Death Note and Hunter x Hunter when he almost slipped. He began imagining what her lips felt like, what she tasted like, and even what her favorite position was.

She’s a virgin, remember?

Erik shook himself gently as he walked into his building, wondering if he really would have kissed her, if she asked. It had been a while since he’d shared a lip lock with anyone. Chanel wasn’t the type and most other women didn’t attract him in that way. But little Mahari….

Would he have done it?

Duh, nigga, a voice that sounded very much like Chauncey’s taunts back at him. He’s pulled from his thoughts when an unseen force nearly knocks him off his feet. He clutches his chest to catch his breath when an unfamiliar voice with a thick accent calls out to him.

“My apologies. I did not see you there,” the man says, a hand outstretched to help Erik right himself. He smacks the man’s hand away and nearly gives him a piece of his mind until his attention is pulled to the black and gold ring around the man’s neck.

Is that my daddy’s ring?