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"I am nobody. Even if I was someone, people couldn't comprehend me. And even if they could, they wouldn't be able to communicate it to those around them. I do not belong to the world. That is the world's limit, the boundary between the world and the self." — Ergo Proxy
How the LADS men help you wash and style your hair.
Paring: Rafayel, Valko, Sylus, Zayne, Xavier, Caleb x Black Female Reader
No specific skin tone mentioned since i want all black woman to feel represented in my work whether you have vitiligo, albinism or not! 
The LADS men love your hair in any shape or form! But today you’re giving them a chance to style it however they please (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)
RAFAYEL ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Natural Afro with cute ocean accessories, Box braids with beads and flowers, layered braids + flower!
｡˚○: Rafayel treats your hair like a canvas, a piece of art. He’d learnt so much about doing hair that doing yours comes so naturally to him. Most of the times you ask him to help you get ready for his fancy little exhibitions, and he always makes sure you shine. It wasn’t anything new when you asked him to do your hair, he’s already dragging you into his bathroom with a little smile, eyes crinkling before he runs some warm water so you both can take a sit down bath together. He’s always stocked up on your favorite hair care products, hell, he might have more of your stuff here than his.
｡˚○: You wanted something casual, but cute. The two of you were going to the beach later on today, so he makes sure to brainstorm a bit on something comfortable you can wear.
｡˚○: Rafayel is gentle with your hair whenever he does it, he never wants to cause you any pain or discomfort at all. He’ll make sure to take his time with you..
｡˚○: No matter what hairstyle Rafayel chooses for you, he’s always going to add a little flower to go next to your pretty face.
XAVIER⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Natural Afro, Afro Puffs, Bun/Afro puff!
☆: Xavier doesn’t want to mess up, he’s actually really scared when you ask him to style your hair because he’s afraid he’ll do a bad job : ( . He’s looked at multiple creators online on cute hairstyles to do, so he hopes it’ll come out alright! He’ll use your hair products you already own since he doesn’t wanna choose anything bad!
☆: Xavier loves how soft your natural hair feels. He’s not going to mess up your hair by constantly touching it, but he’ll melt into a puddle when you cuddle up underneath him. His nose instantly burrows into you just so he can sniff his sweet girl.
☆: Xavier likes to do your hair on a sofa, likes when you cuddle between his legs while he gets to work, the closeness means the world to him.. and jeez you smell like a dream. He’ll ask you time to time what product you’d like him to use, but other than that, he’s got this!
☆: it’s a simple touch, but Xavier bought a nice white bow to go in your hair. He’d definitely place it once he’s done because you just look too cute.
SYLUS⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Cornrow lower bun, cornrows, Afro puff/bun!
𓅨: Washing your hair is always like going to the damn mall. Sylus has almost an entire closet dedicated to hair care products for you. He lets you choose the ones you like, then he’s getting with you in the shower so he can help wash your hair 🤍
𓅨: Sylus makes sure you don’t have any hair in your face since you work as a hunter. He’s also afraid it’ll block out your view when you come to visit him in the N109 Zone, which is pretty dangerous in itself. He wants to make sure your face is clear so you can be alert. So he sits down and styles your hair in any of the top styles!
𓅨: I feel like Sylus will learn how to braid your hair with time. I don’t think he’s too good at it at first, but he gets way better as you both start dating longer.
𓅨: When you ask him to style your hair for the first time he’s actually quite honored that you trusted him enough to even ask. He’s also a bit flustered since he wasn’t sure his skills were that good, but he proves otherwise!
VALKO⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Locs, Bantu/Braids, Natural Afro!
⏾: Awwwooo (that’s how Valko’s gonna be when he sees the finish results of your hair…you’re just too pretty for him to handle—)
⏾: I feel like Valko has a major hair routine, so he’s always writing down days you say you wanna wash your hair together. He loves burying himself into your hair when it’s wet, dry, when you get out of bed, when you put your bonnet on.. the man just can’t get enough of your smell.
⏾: Valko’s heart bursts out of his chest when you ask him to do your hair for the first time. He’s nervous, and he looks online for a style while you teasingly watch over him
⏾: Valko is surprisingly good with his hands…. (..) he’s fast, careful, and for his first attempt, it looks pretty damn good! >u<
ZAYNE⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Short styled Afro, Fulani/Lemonade, Cornrow lower bun!
❆: As a Rafayel main I can’t even be biased. Zayne would be the best braider in history. Hes already a doctor, used to moving his fingers around a lot, he would be PERFECT at styling your hair whenever he can. I feel like since Zayne takes so much care into his appearance and goes with a more business type look, he’ll try to do the same thing for you, and he also wants to keep your hair out of your face since you’re a hunter!
❆: I feel like Zayne has so many shampoos and conditioners that will help ease your scalp and make your hair softer, and as a plus they all smell sooo good. I can see you asking Zayne on his off day to come do your hair.
❆: Zayne is SO fast when he braids your hair… like I said he’s a doctor, and you can bet this isn’t his first time doing this. I feel like you could take a nap while he patiently braids your hair. Just give him a sweet breakfast pastry, some coffee with extra cream and sugar, and he’s on it!
❆: Zayne really cherishes these moments between the two of you. It’s not often he gets to have time like this, so he makes sure to make everything comfortable for you.
CALEB⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
Feed in layered braids, Short styled box braids, Jade Braids!
✈︎: Who needs to spend money on getting your hair done when you have Caleb?? (No seriously). Caleb has been doing your hair ever since the two of you were kids. On the weekend before school started he’d always make sure to get your hair done so you wouldn’t have to worry about it for awhile.
✈︎: I feel like Caleb would be so honored you wanted him to do your hair again after everything that’s happened between the two of you. He’d go out of his way to go back to y’all’s childhood home and get your favorite hair care products from when you were a kid. He’s always been extremely careful when it came to dealing with your hair. He used to wash your hair in the sink, but now that you two were dating he’ll just wash it in the shower!
✈︎: I feel like Caleb knows you like the back of his hand. He’s never forgot how to braid ever since he was a kid, so he try’s showing off his skill by doing a style that takes awhile! You honestly are a bit impressed when he finally does finish..
✈︎: Caleb’s phone is filled with pictures of his pretty girl after he’s done doing your hair 🤍 I feel like he’d be giving you your very own photo shoot lmaooooo
I’m not even familiar with this fandom, but I looove this piece so much. The choice of hairstyles and the whole concept is wonderful. Sending you so much love, Cozy. It’s rare to see girls with albinism or vitiligo represented so explicitly and thoughtfully—thank you for this inclusivity. Amazing work!!🫶🏽
𐔌 10.2K 𐦯 • 𝘕𝘖 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚.ᐟ | 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒈.ᐟ𝑶𝒏𝒚, CollegeAU, drinking, intoxication, or*l (male receiving), p -> v (backshots), dirty talk, raw s*x, cr*ampie (technically), “good girl” trope, minor corruption, weapon mentioned (gun), gun use (no one gets hurt), gun pl*y, gentle/caring Ony, nonchalant Ony, teasing Ony, possessive Ony, jealousy, slow-build interest, slight male-centeredness from FMC, explicit language, use of pet names (Mama, Princess, Ami, ‘Mei, Daddy)
PART 1 ୨ৎ PART 2
Special thanks to my moot @liliacsdelight for always being down to beta read & help me out w/ my writing—SHE’S THE REASON WHY THIS FIC IS SO LONG, & ty to those on my Patreon, I love every comment you guys leave <3 so I hope you guys on here enjoy this just as much, don’t hesitate to let me know any & everything you feel abt this part—pls, I wanna hear aaall the details .ᐟ
ᝰ♡.ᐟ A GROUP COSTUME WAS A GREAT IDEA. Too bad it was impossible to achieve, at least with her group of friends.
Ámerei knew the idea would never come to fruition from the moment it was first brought up—at a small off-campus cafe where she and Solyane would meet up for brunch.
The air in the decently sized eatery was warm, smelling of bitter-roasted coffee beans and baked sweet treats.
On the table, Solayne had a chocolate filled croissant before her, while Ámerei took the occasional bite of her blueberry cheesecake.
Both girls had met up with the promise of completing homework together. Either knew that would not happen.
"I'm surprised that's what you picked," Solayne pointed with a fork at Ámerei's food, shielding her mouth as she chewed.
Peering down at the slice of cake, Ámerei stared at it for a moment before giving a soft shrug. She glanced back up at the girl across from her. "Just wanted to try something new."
Solayne nodded. She swallowed. "Been trying a lot of new stuff lately, huh?"
Those words made Ámerei's eyebrows twitch. She looked at her friend, attempting to keep a steady enough expression.
"What do you mean?"
With a frown of indifference, Solayne shook her head. "I mean … you've just been disappearing—"
"Solayne—"
"Noo, don’t pretend you don’t know what I'm talking about, 'cause I know you do." Her stare was pointed, lips pursed.
Ámerei was conscious of her face, sure to not let anything slip; the jump of an eyebrow, the twitch at the corner of her lips. "The semester just started, you know I've been busy with school work. You have, too. We're all busy, Sol'."
Solayne waved her off as she gave a weak eye roll. "Please, you know you've been running. I'm surprised we're even here right now."
She allowed herself to squint, a deep furrow in her brows. "You're over-exaggerating."
And that was probably true. A big reason she hasn't seen Solayne as frequently was due in part to Ámerei now having a single dorm.
"And I still see you guys, we just hung out at Aneesa and Malaysia's place."
"Yeah, and you're always leaving hella early."
Ámerei gawked. "I told you I had things to do! I have so much homework, you know I'm apart of Leaderboard—there's so many things, Solayne."
She wasn't lying, per se. And it wasn't like she was ditching a hang-out with the girls every time. Only when her friends happened to get together on the days she had already arranged to meet with Onyankopon.
Letting out a sigh, the copper-haired girl waved her off yet again. "I know that's not the only things you've been doing. 'Cause if it was, you'd be talking about it more."
Incredulous laughter bubbled out of her at the absurdity of her words. "That's not true!"
For a second, Ámerei considered it: confessing to her about Onyankopon. How she hits him up for a little bit more than weed, because they both know she's not an avid smoker.
The idea died just as fast in her head.
She resurfaced from her thoughts, finding Solayne's stare far too intense for this conversation. The wrinkle between her bushy brows was soft, hardly there. And yet, it made something in her stomach stir.
"I don’t know, this feels … different."
Her heart skipped a beat. Ámerei held back on releasing a breath. "Different how?"
For a moment, the other girl didn't say anything, only looking off to the side in thought. Just until she offered a weak shrug.
"But, you're okay, though, right?"
When Solayne looked back at her, Ámerei noticed the pleading look in her eyes.
The one that begged Ámerei to let her in, simultaneously comforting her with the promise that she'll always be there for her despite whatever she was going through.
Ámerei cast her vision elsewhere, unable to handle what felt like the perfect mixture of sincerity and manipulation.
How was she going to tell her that the only reason she was so "distant" was because she started fucking her plug? How can she describe how thrilling it it felt, having this little secret to herself.
She's sure Solayne would understand that aspect of it. But if the rest of the girls heard who it is that she'd gotten herself involved with—especially Aneesa?
She internally cringed thinking of the judgment—to her face and possibly behind her back. Ámerei is no doormat, but she isn't afraid to admit that she can be a bit of people pleaser at times.
With something as scandalous as this, she had a feeling that if wind of this got out to her friends, she'd have to at least claim a connection to him. That would surely ruin what they have going on.
Even with being new to this "casual" relationship of theirs, it wasn't lost on her that she didn't know much about Onyankopon. She didn't know if he was talking to anyone else—she hadn't gathered enough from the limited comments of his one Instagram posts to suspect anyone. She definitely didn't know if he was hiding her from someone, either.
Was it too late to ask?
"Yes, Solayne, I'm okay," Ámerei laughed, hoping to throw the other woman off of her scent. Get her to stop thinking so much about what she might be doing in her free-time.
The brightest, most relieved smile graced Solayne's face. "Okay, good."
Relief. Although, before Ámerei could let out a sigh, the next words uttered stopped her in her tracks.
"So, did you find your costume for the Halloween party?"
Rapid blinks make her lash line ache. She tried, believe her, but Ámerei could not recall ever discussing a Halloween party with the girl. At least not enough for it to be referred to as a specific reference.
"Halloween Party?"
"Yes girl, we're going this year," she announced as though it were a fact. "We can't go through college and never go to a Halloween party."
Ámerei jerked back. "We're going?"
A quirk appeared in Solayne's brows. "I mean, us—the girls. We could all even do a cute group costume-moment. Trust, it's gonna be fun."
Had they discussed this already?
Solayne gave her look. "You'd know about this if you hadn't been leaving the hang-outs so early."
"Okay—" she sighed, reaching for the bridge of her nose to pinch. "I mean, you could've texted me about it. When was this decided?"
"Yesterday."
It was Ámerei's turn to roll her eyes. "Okay, and when is this party?"
Who was she kidding? Of course she was going to the party. She couldn't imagine saying no, not only would that get the girls on her case, but it would definitely make Solayne that much more suspicious of her recent whereabouts.
"Uh, the night of Halloween?" Sarcasm was evident in Solayne's tone. "It's a saturday." Glancing down at her croissant, she pinches off a piece. "Which means we've got two weeks to get ready."
She popped the flakey snack in her mouth, chewing as though she had merely mentioned the weather forecast.
Ámerei's eyebrows almost lept off of her face, her mouth dropping open as her eyes widened. "Solayne, how are we doing a group costume with only two weeks to prepare? Do you know how long it takes people to plan their own costumes?"
Solayne only waved her off, swallowing her food. "We'll talk about everything later tonight on a group call. Relax, we'll get it done… Just make sure you don't leave that call before everything's sorted out."
Ámerei didn't miss the pointed look on her friend's face.
PALE PINK TIGHTS CLING TO HER LEGS LIKE A SECOND SKIN. The gossamer fabric is a flimsy shield against tonight's biting cold. Still, it's an added bit of protection to pick up where her ivory leotard lacks in keeping her warm.
But, it's not a worry for her. Ámerei knows that she'll never be outside for longer than a few seconds—a minute at most. Besides, Halloween is only one night a year. Why waste it on being modest?
"I just hope the fucking dj knows what they're doing, 'cause if there's no good music, I'm getting behind that booth my-fucking-self," Malaysia declares, and quite loudly over the rap music blasting in the car.
"Please," Solayne snickers, her eyes never leaving the road as she steers.
From the passenger seat, Aneesa joins in on the conversation as she checks her makeup in the mirror. "I just know that place is about to be packed."
"Mhm, everybody's gonna be at that damn party," Solayne promises. "The fucking early access tickets were sold out in, like, five minutes when it was posted to Posh."
"Oh shiiit," Malaysia beams, sticking her tongue out.
That word: everybody. It gets Ámerei thinking, and thinking gets her excited. She rolls her lips into her mouth, using the guise of spreading her lip gloss, to stop a growing smile as anticipation bubbles in her chest.
She doesn't want to get ahead of herself, she's not even sure if he's the type of guy to frequent parties, but … she's hoping that he'll decide to pop out for tonight. And … she kind of does want him to see her like this.
Dressed up in her cute costume, large white bunny ears hanging down the sides of her straightened sew-in. She wants him to see her dancing amongst the sea of people, throwing what little ass she has, with her friends.
And, if she's lucky, she might even get to throw it on him.
Her heart almost leaps out of her chest. The apples of her cheeks tighten as her lips begin to pull at their sides.
"What you smiling so hard over there for?"
Caught.
Glancing up, she meets eyes with Aneesa through the slim vanity mirror in the sun visor.
Wispy lashes bat against her cheeks, blinking rapidly as she recenters her focus. "I'm just excited."
"I know that's right, me too," Solayne yells.
"Period," Malaysia joins in.
Her attempt at a casual giggle is shoddy at best. She hopes that they're a little too tipsy to realize.
ᝰ
THE GIRLS HAVE ONE RULE when they’re out: stay together.
In the darkness of this house, even as dancing bodies threaten to break them apart, they do a good job adhering to the guideline. Although their tiny circle is split up a time or two, the farthest one of them strays is about three feet before the straggler is shouldering their way back into the arms of the others.
Ámerei has never been the one to wander from their huddle, however, that doesn’t mean her attention hasn’t.
Her gaze is almost frantic, jumping from one corner of the room to the next. She can hardly differentiate between the thumping of the music and her own heartbeat, but she knows that both are running quite fast.
How do I even know that he'll show up? A costume party—why would he come to one of these? I need to relax and enjoy tonight with the girls, stop thinking so much about him, and—
"Dj got about twenty minutes to play some heat, I'm telling y'all!" Malaysia points, threateningly, in the direction of Dj’s booth.
All of the girls’ eyes follow, though Ámerei’s strays.
Over the rim of the red solo cup—poured for her by Aneesa—she investigates the particularly dark corner near the booth, eyes squinted as she tries to work through every face she can see over there.
Damn, no luck.
A sinking feeling burrows itself in her chest; disappointment. She tries to ignore it.
See, that’s what you get, she thinks to herself as she takes a thick gulp—a straight shot of tequila. As she battles with the burning taste at the back of her throat, she’s pulled from her thoughts by a polite bump to the shoulder, courtesy of Aneesa.
“’Mei, come,” she shouts, holding up her phone as its flash rains down on them.
For a minute, Ámerei locks in to participate in her video; one hiked up shoulder as she leans in, planting a faux kiss with puckered, NYX Crème Brulee-colored lips, shooting a wink at the camera.
She can’t tell how long the video is, only that her breath is suspended for as long as the camera records.
When the flash stops, and an afterimage still lingers in her field of vision—partially blinding her—that’s when she ironically sees it. Him.
Onyankopon.
She exhales a shaky breath, nervously twisting in her spot as she tries to sneak a look at him that lasts longer than a second.
He hasn’t spotted her yet. How can he when he’s turned the other way, in conversation? Another guy, about the same height as him, pale and hair pulled back in a loose bun, speaks in his ear. They laugh at something.
And, of course, neither of them are wearing a costume.
She glances down at her outfit, feeling a bout of self-consciousness for participating in this affair to such an extent. Is this … childish? Suddenly, she’s not as eager for him to see her.
Peering back out into the crowd, she finds that the unknown man has a permanent smirk on his face as he whispers something in Onyankopon’s ear. His outfit is quite casual, not a single garment that she can pick out by a logo or a name.
It sits in the shadows of what Onyankopon wears: a skull-cap covers his waves. A dark leather bomber that looks like it would be heavy, sits on his frame. She imagines that if she were to put it on, she would be engulfed by the scent of his cologne and natural musk mixed together.
Silvery glints of light peak past the bomber’s parted zipper track, flashing anyone that glances his way; his chains. His earrings do the same when he turns his head further inward to say something back to someone who is clearly a friend of his.
He’s never mentioned any of his friends to her.
“What are you looking at?”
Ámerei almost jumps at the sound of Solayne’s voice, louder in her ear than the music. She whips around to see the other girl searching in the direction she'd been staring off into, for something she too might find of interest.
Ámerei spits out the best excuse she can think of: “I thought I recognized someone from my class!”
Solayne’s stare lingers for a moment, her mouth quiet for a while, before giving up with a shrug. “Can we fucking dance?” She begs, grabbing ahold of Ámerei’s wrist.
And so, she nods, allowing her friend to pull her back into the orbit of their circle.
HE DOESN'T KNOW WHY HE ALLOWS EREN TO CONVINCE HIM TO COME TO THESE PARTIES ANYMORE.
‘Bro, you’re fucking anti-social ass—pop out with me.’
He reluctantly agreed, with the stipulation that he wouldn’t be wearing a costume.
‘I’m not wearing one. Half the fucking people there probably won’t either. People just wanna party.’
So, here they are, holding up the wall with their bodies as everyone dances to the bass-backed music. And taking a glimpse around the room, he can confidently say that Eren is a liar. Almost every person that manages to slip past him is dressed in a costume of some sort.
There were those who threw on a simple headband: black cat ears or red Devil horns and a clip on tail. Then, there are those that took the next step and did the special FX makeup. Nasty gashes, fake burns, skin painted in pinks, greens, and blues. And, of course, a couple of people went the extra mile, replicating fandom characters down to the smallest detail.
Those ones impress him the most. He’s got an appreciation for people dedicated to their craft.
What he doesn’t appreciate is the rank smell of bodies, slick with sweat, marinating in this room. And hot air onlyrises. He swipes at his nose a time or two, only briefly giving himself a break from the stench with the soft scent of The Dreamer by Versace.
It only does so much.
A tap to the shoulder rouses him from his thoughts, simultaneously knocking the stank look off of his face.
“You tryna drink?”
Eren had leaned in to say the words in his ear.
Onyankopon gives him a curt nod before they begin their trek through the dense crowd, to get to the kitchen.
As they cross the threshold, stepping into the small square of light that is this separate room, the air is a degree or two cooler. And the music isn't as loud. It relieves him, his body relaxing just a bit.
“All this fucking tequila,” Eren frowns.
He quietly snorts at his friend as he reaches for a cup from the stacked tower.
“Onyankopon?”
He stops mid-reach to look over his shoulder.
His brain takes a moment to decipher the face before him, and when it finally does, the gentle furrow between his brows smoothens. He abandons his previous task to greet the woman properly.
A tall-ish woman—around five feet and eight inches. Her hair is pulled out of her face, slicked back in a low puff. Under the kitchen’s fluorescent lights, her deep brown skin still glows. She’s dressed as Ash Ketchum.
“Wassup,” he says lowly. Something resembling a smile, yet not quite, befalls his lips as he pulls her in for a quick side hug. “You good,” he asks, pulling back to look at her.
“Yeah. Didn’t expect you to be here,” she laughs, lifting a cup to her lips. He hadn’t even noticed she was carrying one.
“Eren had me pop out with him. I’m just being a good friend.”
Her two-toned lips curl into a smile. “I can see, don’t even got a costume on or nothing,” she chuckles.
Shaking his head, he glances around the kitchen for a quick second. “It’s not my thing.”
“Never one to participate—“
As the words leave her mouth, she’s interrupted by the yelling of someone fighting their way to get into the kitchen.
“‘Scuse me! Sorry, ‘scuse—sorry!” A young woman mashed her way through, pulling her friend in tow.
She brushes shoulders with his conversation partner before snaking her way between them to get to the kitchen counter—a zombie cheer leader, with a white bunny trailing close behind.
He and said bunny happen to make eye contact, and he watches her make her way through the packed kitchen. Her expression is one caught between awe and mild shock. Those big brown eyes that he’d seen just the other day, are framed by a new set of lashes.
Even as the pair passes him, they’re staring at each other until she's forced to turn her head forward. It gives him freedom to let his eyes wander—just low enough for him to catch how the little puff of a tail at the slope of her ass bounces with every step.
And all Onyankopon can think, as he tears his gaze away to look back at the woman in front of him, is—
“That’s cute. A zombie and a bunny, what a pair,” she shrugs, looking at them for a second more before peering back up at him. “Well, it was good seeing you, gotta head back to my people.”
“Likewise,” he says, giving her a calm dap-up before she leaves the kitchen to reunite with her crew.
“Mariah still go here?”
He turns around, seeing Eren at his back with his new drink. For someone that complained about there being so much tequila, he didn’t expect him to get half of a cup-full.
“Yeah,” he answers.
Face-to-face with his friend, who he knows so well, Onyankopon catches that glint in his eyes. “She say anything about me?” The corner of his lips pick up by a fraction.
“Didn't even ask,” Onyankopon smirks. “But, you could say something to her.”
Eren shrugs, a devilish smile breaking out onto his face this time. He can’t help himself. “Say less.” He slides past Onyankopon, heading in the direction of the dark-skinned babe.
Joining the other party goers at the counter, Onyankopon falls in line with the bunny and zombie.
As he grabs a bottle to pour into his cup, he feels a pair of eyes on him. He doesn’t look up until he’s done pouring, and when he does, he gives the little bunny a wink before tasting his drink.
Mentally, he takes note of the finer details of her costume: A white leotard and pink tights. With the slightest movement of her head, those bunny ears are flopping about, a pristine white color and undeniably fluffy.
He won't lie, the costume is pretty basic, but he's never pegged her as the nerdy-type. Not in the dress-up way, at least. He also isn't going to complain, not when he gets to see her figure. His eyes climb back up her body.
Her lips part to speak, and just before a sound comes out—
“C’mon, ‘Mei!”
Her attention is retrieved by the zombie cheerleader. She’s led back into the crowd, leaving him behind as she stares at him over the hill of her shoulder.
Too slow.
ᝰ
AS TIME PASSES, it gets increasingly harder to keep track of pale bunny ears in this crowd, especially when they sit atop the head of someone so short.
But, Onyankopon manages, watching her for a minute at a time from a distance.
She takes pictures and videos with her friends, dances with them in ways he’d never seen from her, and laughs at everything—likely due to the cup he's never seen her put down.
She isn’t all he pays attention to. Occasionally, an acquaintance or two crosses his path. He engages in short conversation with them, only a mere greeting for each.
Less than half of them were women.
And every time, after they part ways and he’s free to resume his past-time of monitoring, there’s a pair of big brown eyes staring back at him from across the room.
He guesses that’s why she hasn’t made her way over to him. Just the same as how her friends are a natural deterrent to him, too.
The whole routine got old fast, and he's losing his patience. But, he maintains his discipline.
Even as he sees a guy approach her.
He isn’t smooth about it, either, lurking in proximity to her small group before shuffling his way in front of her.
Onyankopon can tell that his presence catches her off-guard. And if the unsure look on her face is anything to go by, then he can bet that she doesn’t know him either.
Which leaves him confused as to why he stays in her face for so long.
He lifts his cup to his lips, watching the entire thing unfold; her nervous smile and laugh, his inability to take a hint.
And in his opinion, it drags on for way too long. His brows twitch. The music in here is starting to annoy him, too.
But, he can rest easy, because her friends are jumping in to make sure that she’s okay. They surround the poor guy like sharks circling in on prey, likely questioning who he is and why he's talking to their friend.
He's got to give it to them, their ability to scare off a guy in such a short amount of time is impressive.
He can't help but to laugh.
ᝰ
THE ALCOHOL IS DOING ITS JOB, and the music only embellishes its effects. Long white ears flop against the sides of Ámerei's head as she hops around the party with her friends.
Dancing, videos, shouting lyrics—she's truly getting the college experience. Her night is going great. But, never one to settle for less, Ámerei is determined to make it better.
She knows the rule, but she also knows that she's tired of playing eye-tag from across the room.
Maybe it's the alcohol talking, but she genuinely believes that drinking activates her super power: invisibility.
What else can be the reason that she's able to slip away from the group so easily? And no, she won't consider that they were also a little too tipsy for their own good.
Either way, she promises herself that she won't be gone for long. She'll find her way back to them.
Gaze dead-set on the man all the way on the other side of this party, she maps out the best path to get to him: to cut through everyone. She isn't playing coy about it either—shouldering her way past people and bulldozing through groups.
Normally she wouldn't, but she's just so tired of the distance!
When she gets to him, his back is partially turned to her as he speaks to someone. He's got a cup in his hand.
An idea flashes in her mind: to greet him by pulling his hand down to put her lips on the rim, drinking from the exact spot his mouth had been on.
Before she can enact such a terrible idea, he turns around in the nick of time, like he sensed her presence. Beneath the party's flashing lights and through her slightly hazy vision, she sees his solemn face grow tender as he quickly recognizes her.
His eyes rake over her unabashedly. He licks at his bottom lip, probably tasting traces of his drink that she wishes she could taste, too.
"Where your friends at?"
Her closed-mouth giggle goes unheard under the cover of the loud music. "Does it matter?"
She doesn't notice how his other arm rises to her side, bracing her from the dancing bodies teetering too close to them.
His brows furrow slightly, yet his smile only grows. "You sure you supposed to be alone right now?"
An eye roll. "I'm twenty-one!"
He shakes his head, lips pressed together in faux disappointment. "That's not a answer!"
"Ugh, why are you acting like you don't want to see me?"
"I didn't say that," he laughs. Like, actually laughs.
Before she can fix her lips to say anything else, a heavy arm drops over her shoulders and pulls her in close. Ámerei was right, his jacket does smell like him. It smells amazing.
She cranes her neck to look up at him through her lashes. Her stomach flutters as an unstoppable smile rises on her lips. She doesn't try to hide it, either.
He leans down, his lips close to her ear. "You good?"
When he pulls back to check her face, he's not too surprised to see the almost dazed look in her eyes. He snorts as she gives him a delayed nod.
He's not sure whether to chalk it up to the fact that she can't hear him over the music or if alcohol might be the culprit.
So he leans in again. "You ain't drink too much?"
This time when she answers, she licks at her bottom lip before shaking her head.
Noting the little quirk, he gives a quiet nod.
Her lips move, but all he hears are the vulgar lyrics of a Future track. His brows pull together and he tilts his ear closer to her lips, a silent gesture to repeat herself.
But all of this yelling is stealing her breath, and it's aiding the alcohol in making her dizzy. So, Ámerei reaches for his cup, her glassy eyes only centered on its red body.
"Hey—woah!"
Before she can get her hands on it, he pulls it up to his lips and knocks back whatever's left of his drink.
She wouldn't have liked it anyway.
"Hey," she protests, her face contorting in aggravation.
Offering a toothy smile, he overturns the cup, spilling nothing but air. "It's no more!"
A look of horror befalls her face before laying a light smack to his chest.
"It's finished!"
She rolls her eyes before making an attempt to turn her back to him.
"Aye, Aye—" he laughs, pulling her back around. "Chill!"
Her face is screwed into a frown, to which he ignores in favor of getting close to her ear.
"I like your costume." That arm around her shoulder falls behind her, a hand cinching her waist. "Why your friends let you come out like this?"
Her folded arms are pressed to his stomach. She's unwilling to unfold them. "It's a costume party."
Despite the loudness of the music, he can still hear the attitude in her voice, to which he dutifully ignores.
"All this fucking ass out." The hand at her waist reaches lower and plucks at the portion of her leotard that ends at the top of her butt.
She reaches back to grab his hand, fighting off a smile with a weak scowl. "Is that your—ah!"
She can't help the giggles that pour out of her when that hand had lifted and came down, hard, against one cheek, gripping it up whilst pulling her impossibly closer.
"Oh my God!"
She gawks at him, at a loss for words, all while he's got a dangerous smirk on his lips. Her heartbeat only quickens.
"Your ass getting fatter," he tells her.
She kisses her teeth, still feigning irritation. It's a strong battle, but she's determined to win. "No, it's not!"
"Yes it is, c'mon, show me!"
"What?"
She's barely able to pull away to see his face. The only answer she gets is no answer as he begins to sway to the music, mouthing the words. It's a dancehall tune, one she's definitely heard before.
Just as she recognizes it, she's spun around, her back now pressed against his front. That's all of the convincing she needs.
Ask her and she'll admit it faster than the question is posed: Ámerei cannot twerk. She hasn't gotten the rythym down for a tic-toc, she can't bubble, and she hasn't even gained the confidence to attempt the puppy-tail.
Then, she'll follow all of that up with the promise that she can definitely whine, because as a second-gen Jamaican American, that's the least she can do.
The liquid-courage helps, loosening up her waistline to make her movements smooth and fluid. The music is a perfect tempo for her to pull out all the moves that she knows, and she can't be more carefree.
Onyankopon doesn't complain, only leaning back to catch more of what she throws on him. Even delivering a couple of lazy smacks to her ass.
It seems like the music only gets louder. She's got her tongue out, looking back at him as she pelts waist. And when she notices the stiff, rigid feeling in his jeans, it only pushes her to keep going.
In fact, she makes sure to drag out each roll of her hips, just to feel every bit of it. The grip on her waist tightens, it gets more possessive. Feeling an ounce more courageous, she switches it up, throwing everything that she has back on it.
There's a hand on her neck before she can even do it a third time. Gently, she's pulled up to lean back on his chest. His mouth is at her ear again.
"What you dancing so hard for?"
She giggles, unable to stop herself as she circles her hips against him. "You seem to be enjoying it!"
No answer. For a minute, she's lost to the music again, doing whatever she wants on him without fear of embarrassment.
"That's not my dick," he says in her ear.
She slows to a stop before turning in his hold to face him once again. There's an unreadable look on his face, and confusion on hers. Before she can ask—
"Your friends looking for you." As he looks up, she turns her head to follow his line of sight.
Sure enough, she catches a glimpse of Malaysia's face, full of worry as she twists and turns in the crowd. Solayne is searching, too.
Turning back, she finds Onyankopon already staring at her, his eyes low.
"We're meeting up later," she tells him, pulling on her best stern face.
He laughs, squeezing her waist one last time before leaning in.
"I'm waiting!"
She slips back into the crowd, thinking up the best lie she can give to her friends.
THE SECOND PART OF HIS NIGHT TRULY BEGINS IN FRONT OF HIS APARTMENT BUILDING.
Sitting in the car, the heat blasting despite his blood running hot—his bomber thrown in the backseat—Onyankopon makes no plan to get out.
He's on a retrieval mission.
And right on time, as he looks out of the window, there's a faint blur of white, hopping towards him in the distance.
As he watches it get closer, the blur materializes into the Ámerei he's familiar with. She nurses a half-drunken bottle of water, squeezed nearly flat between her last two fingers, while she holds her phone with the first two.
And at this point, she runs on the tips of her toes across the concrete, throwing a glance back every few feet or so.
When she finally rounds the car to get to the passenger side, she throws the heavy door open, the biggest smile on her face as she climbs in. The seat is still in the low, pushed back and semi-reclined position she had left it in.
"It's a little hot in here, no?"
The question pours from glossy lips, too used to wearing a big smile since this night begun. With the quick and feminine flick of her wrist, she pushes her hair back over her shoulder as she turns to face him.
"Had it on for you … know how you get," Onyankopon says as he reaches to lower the heat. "Why you running?"
"'Cause I feel like they're watching to see where I go." She bends low in the seat, trying to find the window of Malaysia and Aneesa's apartment.
With a quiet scoff, Onyankopon puts the car in drive. "You ain't wanna tell 'em?" He glances at her just in time to see the face she pulls in objection.
"No. They get weird when it comes to being in my business … I don't know." She blows out a breath, opening up her phone as she speaks. "I get it, their intentions are good, but … it's just weird—especially Aneesa."
He almost asks, because how did she expect him to know who Aneesa is? Instead, he keeps quiet, hoping that will signal to her to change the topic.
"Anyway," she sighs out. "Can we get some food, please?"
Onyankopon shakes his head. "Bet you is hungry … all that dancing you was doing."
She rolls her eyes, a grin fighting to reappear on her lips. "Shut uuup."
Her laughter layers over the music playing softly through his speakers as he heads to the nearest food spot open at this hour.
ᝰ
SHE NEVER TOOK THE CHANCE TO REALLY LOOK AT HIS CAR. But, seeing as she's been left alone in it, her phone is one twenty-three percent, and she's in desperate need of a distraction while Onyankopon gets their food, she's taking the oppurtunity to do it now.
The interior is definitely a perk: Charcoal grey leather seats, stars in the ceiling, amazing foot room, and the fresh smell of Black Ice that never seems to fade every time she's been in here, all make it a nice experience.
She glances into the storefront of the small fast-food Halal spot he'd taken her to. He's leaned up against the counter, checking something on his phone as he waits for their food.
His tints are too dark for him to see her from the outside.
Her eyes skate around the car again, desperate to find something new to fixate on. That's how she winds up in a staring competition with the glovebox right above her knees.
Really, she's at war with herself. Her parents taught her better, she's never been one to snoop. But, it also is safer to know as much as she can about the environment she's in—is the excuse she gives herself to pull the small compartment open.
It's soft yellow light shines as its components are bared to her. And, fuck everything else that lies in there, because all she can focus on is the matte black gun sitting just inches from her.
Her eyes go wide, her head turning in every direction, as if she could be caught in this moment.
"Oh my Go—what the fuck," she whispers to herself, jaw slack in awe.
Her hand reaches for it before she can think twice, but she stops herself. Giving one last look out of the window and finding Onyankopon still nose-deep in his phone, no sign of their food being ready any time soon, she grabs the weapon.
It's heavy. Her hands already grow clammy as she gingerly holds it. It's cool in her grasp. She's careful not to lay a finger on or even near the trigger.
Slowly, Ámerei turns it over, allowing what little lighting the glovebox offers, to spill over the fine ridges and curves of the gun. She can't even find the safety on it.
The car door pulls open before she can even look up.
"You not supposed to be holding that."
Her mouth is open as she stares up at him, at a total loss for words. He looks down at it, sitting in her delicate hands.
It looks like it doesn't belong, the handle just a little too thick for her to be able to use it efficiently with one hand.
He nods over to the open glove box. "Put it up."
"Sorry."
Meekly, she glances at him before doing as told. She's ridiculously careful in putting it back, especially knowing that she can't find the safety, and gentle in closing the glovebox.
Onyanopon doesn't get in the car until it's away, passing the weighty plastic bag over in her lap to hold the food. Neither of them say anything as he pulls off from the restaurant, his low music and the occasional rustle of the food being the only sounds in the car.
When he finally finds a good enough place—a parking spot in a residential neighborhood about three minutes away—they finally begin to unpack the food. The exchange of boxes and small paper bags is quiet.
As good as the food is, Ámerei finds that her thoughts are still back at the restaurant—the gun. She isn't sure if she should ask him about it. Not directly, at least.
He didn't seem too happy about her holding it. And she's sure that if he wanted her to know about it, he would've mentioned owning one a long time ago. So, after deliberating for so long—long enough that they finish their food—she finally settles on another question:
"How come you never let me run plays with you?"
His head perks up at the question, a twist in the usually perfect symmetry of his face as he stares at the pretty girl next to him, that had the audacity to ask him such a question.
"'Scuse me?"
She shrinks in the seat at that, averting her eyes elsewhere in the car. "Wha—I just mean—never—"
"First of all," Onyankopon shakes his head, no semblance of a smile on his face. "Don’t ask me that shit again."
For a moment, Ámerei wishes that these bunny ears were real, so that they can flop in her face and hide it from his burning gaze.
Such a dumb question, why would she even ask something like that? The feeling worsens as she remembers that she's sitting in his passenger seat, dressed in a fucking costume.
"I'm not taking you somewhere I might have to up it on somebody, c'mon now," he says, glancing out the window.
Her thoughts stop as she dares to look at him.
"This not no cute shit, I wouldn't even play with your safety like that."
She doesn't know what to say. Should she … apologize? No, he might tell her it's not necessary.
"Second—" he shoves one last fry in his mouth, chewing on it softly as he packs his garbage into the plastic bag. "If you tryna chill, just ask. Shit, I'd even go with you to mall—anything but what you just asked me."
Her heart nearly leaps out of her chest at the admission. As Onyankopon's eyes flick up to meet hers, Ámerei has to keep her lips from lifting.
He lifts his brows, silently asking for an answer.
"O-okay."
"Mhm."
He swallows, the car going quiet for a minute or two. Unable to help that awkward streak within her, she turns to look out the window, only allowing herself a split second to let that smile free.
"Run plays, you don’t fucking talk like that."
"Shut up!" She squeals, burying her face in her hands as she hears the grin in his voice.
"Nah," he laughs. "You really gathered the confidence to ask me that—'cause I know your lil' ass was thinking on it—"
She shoves him by the shoulder, although it doesn't do much to move him. "Leave me alone!"
"A'ight, calm down with the yelling," he chuckles, his laughter dying down.
Ámerei only rolls her eyes.
"You funny," he says with the shake of his head, throwing the bag of garbage down by his feet.
Quiet again, until…
"Well, can I see you use it?"
Another glare.
He scoffs, a smile breaking out on his face. "H-how much you had to drink tonight? I only seen you go get drinks about twice, your friends was getting you some?"
"Onyankopon," she whines.
"What is with these questions?"
This time, she doesn't try to conceal her smile. Straight teeth and pink gums.
"Can I?"
He stares at her, trying to figure out just what it is that's wrong with this girl, before sighing out with the shake of his head.
Wordlessly, he reaches over her to open up the glove compartment, retrieving the gun she had put away almost an hour ago.
Still pristine and just as intimidating.
He doesn't look up to turn on the front cabin light, illumination reveals all of the details previously lost to the dark.
As he holds the weapon in a tatted hand, she notes the way the ink seems to jump off of his skin as a few veins here and there elevate the skin.
His pointer finger only rests over the frame of the gun, careful not to slot itself and curl over the trigger.
"The safety's on, a'ight?"
she nods, half-listening as she eyes the way he holds it.
His hand doesn't move around the gun as he holds it with caution. The curve of the handle feels too familiar in his hand. He's held it too many times to be worried about accidentally shooting it, and still, he can never be too careful.
His gaze flicks up for a moment to look at her.
"Watch."
Silently, he unloads the gun, taking it apart to pull out the unused bullets.
"Now…" he puts it back together. "It's empty."
Flicking his gaze upwards to her, he notes the way her eyes sparkle under the light as she stares at what's in his hand.
That same look she gets whenever his dick is in her face.
Staring at the weapon, Ámerei finds her mind at war. It's such an ugly thing, designed to spit out bullets that rip through skin and rupture organs.
The design isn't even all that special, just a regular pistol. And yet, his hand around the handle makes it look so much more special than it really is.
"See?" He points the gun up to the ceiling. As he looks her in her eyes, he pulls the trigger three times in succession.
Tch, tch, tch.
"Empty."
Her inhale is shallow, as if too much movement might set something off—she doesn't know what. "H-how long have you … um—"
She tears her eyes off of the thing to see him already looking back at her.
"How long have you had it—I'm sorry." She hides her smile behind a hand as she laughs.
He shrugs. "Couple of years."
She goes right back to looking at it, a faint wrinkling between her brows. "A-aren't you only twenty—"
"You nervous right now?"
He steals her attention away again, her face dropping like she'd been caught.
"Am I n-nervous?"
"You keep stuttering. I thought we got over that."
Her mouth opens and shuts just as quickly. "Wha—I—it's not nerves—"
"What is it, then?"
She's a deer caught in headlights. As he stares at her, a slow smirk forming on his lips, Onyankopon can't help but to think that maybe that's what she should've been for Halloween.
Anyway, he's not sure why he teases her with the questions. Maybe it's because her reactions entertain him.
"You horny?"
If her face could go red, he bets that it would be flushed right now.
"What?"
He nearly cackles, throwing his head back as his shoulders jump. "You don't gotta lie to me."
"No! I'm not—"
"You wet right now? Matter fact—"
He reaches a free hand over the console to push it between her legs. The pads of his fingers press against the middle of her legs, undoubtedly feeling a faint pulse and the dampness at the crotch of her leotard.
"Yeah, you are," he grins.
"Mooove!" She frowns, pushing his hand away.
He can see the smile fighting to come out on her face.
"Mhm, I know."
Crossing her arms, she turns to the door, staring out of the window instead. "Fuck you."
"Don’t know why you tried to lie," he chuckles to himself, placing the gun in his lap. "Maybe you did pick the right costume. You don't ever stop, just always ready to go—"
"Shut the fuck up."
"Yo—"
A soft grip befalls on her neck as he pulls her face close to him. And there goes that cute bottom lip, pulled between two rows of pretty teeth.
"Quit talking like that."
She can only stand to look him in the eyes for a second before looking to his lips. Usually, it's hard for her to pull her eyes off of them—impossible, actually.
Yet, for some reason, she glances at his lap, stealing a quick look at the gun placed right over his dick.
Ignoring the slip up, she surges forward, only to be stopped by the hand that keeps her in place. Instead, Onyankopon presses his lips against hers.
The tips of her toes tingle. Her tongue buzzes against his.
His grip never falls away from her neck. And she's unable to even follow him in the kiss. When he pushes his tongue into her mouth, she doesn't think twice about sucking on him.
He squeezes the sides of her throat as she claws his outer-facing thigh to let him know that she's running out of air, and she loves it. When she had reached over to touch him, he's not really sure.
Eyes closed, Ámerei allows her hand to travel up his leg, as it usually does. But when the tips of her fingers touch the cool weapon, she's pulling back. The hitch of her breath is caught by Onyankopon's mouth.
He keeps her close, lips ghosting over hers.
"Touch it."
Her eyes peel open, flitting back and forth between his, still unsure.
"Your—i-it's in the way."
"Then move it."
He can't help the smirk that starts on his face as she hesitates to grab the tool. He glances downwards, watching her slowly push it out the way.
"Y'know you can't handle a dangerous weapon like that."
The rasp of his phone is churning her brain.
"You gotta hold it right, go 'head... Grip it tight."
She glances at him one last time before hardening her grasp, holding it like she really knew how to deal with a gun.
"You was getting real friendly with it at the party, why you moving scared?"
At the party…
She doesn't vocalize her surprise at the revelation that what she'd been whining on, was not his dick. And, interestingly enough, that does something to her.
Her eyebrows twitch as, what he thinks, is the cutest pout dawns on her face.
"Why do you keep playing with me?"
The question pulls a shocked laugh out of him. "I'm not playing with you, Ami." His lips near hers again. "Y'know you could always get this dick."
Always.
Her stomach twists itself up hearing that.
She shifts in her seat, growing antsy. "I want it," she practically whines.
"Then take it out, mama."
The faux pity in his tone makes her pussy flutter.
Her pout deepens. "In my mouth."
"I gotta repeat myself?"
She reaches for his belt buckle.
"You know you gotta do some work around here."
He wants to laugh, getting a front row seat to her desperation. She hardly spares the time to pull his boxers down, pulling his dick out over the band of it.
It barely touches the air before she gets a hand around him, jerking him in a perfect rhythm.
"Mhm," he hums, looking down at her with so much lust. He pushes his hips up.
She leans in, pressing a wet smooch to the corner of his mouth before getting her lips to his ear.
"When I put it in my mouth…"
He pulses in her hand, eyes falling shut.
"I want you to point it at me."
They snap open.
Her hand doesn't stop moving, especially as a dribble of precum allows for an easy glide. His lips part, a slight furrow between his brows.
"What you talking 'bout?"
"Point it at me," she says breathlessly. Like this is getting her off just as much as it is him. "Tell me you'll shoot me if I don't do it right."
His hips twitch and her head goes down. "W-wha—"
He sucks in a breath, the wet heat of her mouth closing in around his dick.
"Mmph…"
She wastes no time wetting him up, sliding him down her throat as far as she can.
"Ahh—shit," he hisses, hitting the back of it.
One hand is pressed to the wall of his stomach, the other reaches for the gun. Blindly, she holds it out for him, stilling her head as she does.
She's waiting.
His brain buffers, staring down at everything. "What the fuck?" He gingerly takes the weapon.
When her hand is empty, she continues. He swallows down a moan.
"Th-thought you … liked being treated like a princess…"
Her movements are languid, smooth as she regurgitates and swallows his dick right back up. His toes are curling—when did she get this good?
"N-now you got me … h-holding a fucking gun to your head," he watches her, choking herself on his dick.
He rights his grip on the pistol. And she seems to hear the small movement, switching to lave at the underside of him as she bobs her head.
"Fuuck," he groans deeply. His hand moves on its own, pointing the gun at the back of her head. The mouth of it rests gently on her skull.
She whimpers.
"You … feening like you want this shit forreal."
The soft vibration of a moan travels through him. She gets her hand on him, twisting it around him as she sucks.
"Mhm … mhm, keep—fuck—keep proving yourself." His voice is clipped, growing unsteady. "Keep f-fucking showing out for me," he grits.
On this particular swallow, her head is pushed with force as the mouth of the gun is forced harder against the back or her head.
"All the way down—"
A strong gag rips from her throat.
"It's gon' do you good to suck my shit right..."
He hums, stomach flinching as she sucks at him.
"Could blow your shit clean off—"
She moans around him before he can even finish the sentence, desperate to taste his cum. She needs it. She needs this.
Pulling off, she pants, her face a mess of her own spit and his precum.
"Cum on my face," she begs, words slurred and rushed.
His free hand buries itself in her hair, and grips it tight at the scalp. He points the gun to her temple, staring down at her with a hardened look.
"You think you deserve that?"
A hasty nod, she can barely keep her eyes open. "Yes, Ony—"
"What you said?"
"Yes!"
He presses the gun deeper into her skin, watching her face, how messy it is. His eyes roll over every detail, amazed with himself at how he still finds her so pretty like this.
"Fuck, I think I'm gonna cum—"
The moaned admission catches him off-guard. He looks at her side of the car and sees the hand between her legs, pressing.
"Cum before me and this gun gon' bust before I do."
Her face is scrunched up as she tries to hold in. A broken whimper leaves her.
"Now suck this fucking dick like you mean it. I'ma tell you when I want you to cum."
He doesn't let her wipe her face or even answer. He shoves her back down on him.
She gags, whines, moans—all of it. Her body trembles, she's too excited for her own good.
"Shit … shit … aw shit, g-get off—"
As she's freed by his hand, she pulls off of him in time to see his thick length twitch. She keeps her face close, mouth open to catch his cum shot when it spurts out.
"Agh—fuck…"
She waits, sticking her tongue out further. Any second now—
"Get in the fucking back."
She looks up at him, confused when she hadn't gotten what she wanted.
"Ony—"
"Put your face in the seat and your ass in the air. I'on feel like hearing you speak."
As she stares up at him, she can't stop the excited smile that comes.
"Hurry up."
As she climbs into the back seat, Onyankopon takes a minute to calm himself down. He couldn't just end it there, not yet.
It takes him longer than she expected to meet her back there, as he cracked the backseat windows and pushed the seats forward.
She kept herself busy, playing with her pussy through the leotard. She knew he'd get on her for it, but that didn't matter to her.
Not until she felt something hard at the side of her head. Her breathing stutters.
"I said you could do that?"
She shakes her head.
"I asked you a question—"
"N-no, Daddy."
His brows lift. "Oh, that's what it is now?"
She keeps quiet, unsure of what to say.
Good choice.
"How you feeling?"
He can hear her fragile exhale. "S-so good," she moans.
"Mhm … Put your fucking hands behind your back. Always touching what's mine."
Her eyes roll shut. She does what she's told.
"My gun … my dick … this pussy."
Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, unwilling to vocalize just how close she is to cumming on herself.
"I'ma teach you something about that, though."
The weight at the side of her head leaves for a moment. He's quiet, and she waits with baited breath to see what he'll do.
Rrrrrriippp—
A sharp gasp leaves her as her leotard is stretched and pulled apart at the crotch. He doesn't stop there, going for her tights and soaked thong next.
She whimpers, shifting on her knees as her arms are held behind her back. Her ass is high in the air, the soft breeze slipping in through the open backseat windows brushing against the seat of her ass.
Onyankopon gazes down at her, watching the way her cunt clenches through the ripped opening he made.
The trembling lines of her body, every puff of air that leaves her—he eats it up. Gorges himself on it.
"Y'know you always do good with that mouth … but I'm on something more tonight."
She groans out.
"I ain't got no condom, though," he mumbles. "Still gon' let me put it in?"
Her lips—messy with drying spit and precum, yet pressed to the warm leather of his seats—part. Before she can get a word out, she feels the gentle tap of him against her pussy lips.
"Huh?"
A bulbous tip, glides between them. Taunting.
"C'mon, Ami … Y'know I only fuck you like this…"
She swallows, her eyes squeezing shut as she tries to talk herself back from the ledge.
"Know I only want you like this, Ami…"
The slide of his dick against her folds has an extra push behind it.
"Ami … Ami," he groans, head dropping as his hips push back and forth against hers.
"Ah—"
Her lungs expand behind her ribcage; the head catches just at her opening. His hips twitch, he keeps himself from pushing all of the way in.
The arm outstretched, pushing the mouth of the empty gun to the back of her head, trembles with strain.
"You want it like this? Tell me."
She nods against the seat, head feeling foggy. "Y-yes—"
He pushes in, feeling his dick slide into the slick, contracting walls of her body.
"Mmh, fuck. You so wet—"
He doesn't wait, immediately moving into a steady pace. Her cute yelps start, leaving her every time her ass meets his hips. It's a vision, her ass falling back against him with every thrust.
And yet, she can't help it; unfolding her arms to reach back and pull her cheeks apart, just for him.
"Shit … creaming around me."
She rolls her lips into her mouth, desperate to silence her moans as her stomach is beat in by the pressure of his dick bullying its way, in and out of her.
But as silent as she tries to be, her body can't help but to weep around him, crooning like a running faucet.
He hisses, his face contorting. "Mh—fuck, m'bout to nut already."
His wavering confession he's not ashamed of. Her walls spasm around his dick, pulling a wounded sound out of him.
"You love … doing that shit—" He grits his teeth, smacking a cheek before dropping his gun to the floor and gripping her waist. He goes harder. "S-stop squeezin'—"
Her eyes open in the darkness, if only to roll back into her skull, a hazy feeling coming over her as he fucks her roughly.
She can't help it as her body responds the only way it knows how; creaming around him, a ridiculous amount.
"Oh my … G-God," he pants, gawking at the mess she's making all over his lap. "This … fucking pussy—"
She can't even speak, unable to release a warning as she lets go, all over him. Her body is shuddering, pulling tight around him.
Her cream packs at the base of his dick. And everytime he pulls out, he's covered to the tip in her release. Her pussy makes all of those pretty noises around him, gurgling around his dick through the last few strokes.
"Oh … fuck, I'm 'bout to n-nut in you—"
The first few spurts of cum splash against her walls. The rest is released over her lips and ass, left to drip down the backs of her thighs and down the opening of the tear.
"Ooh, fuck," he huffs.
For a moment, he keeps still, sitting on his knees with a forearm braced against the back of the driver's seat headrest. He's so thankful that he cracked open the back window, he would've passed out if otherwise.
"Shit, Ámerei," he sighs, looking at the mess they've made. He peers at his gun, lying empty on the floor. "You crazy as hell."
His tired chuckles back her away from the ledge before she falls into unconsciousness.
With some struggle, Onyankopon manages to peel off his T-shirt. The thick fabric will be used to wipe their bodies down. He does her first. He's careful, quiet as he focuses on the cleaning.
"Your pussy?"
The question knocks him out of his head. He breaks his view of her wet ass, glancing up to see her dark and shiny eyes peering back at him over her shoulder. He just barely catches the lift at the corner of her lips.
He manages a half-hearted smile. "We was in a scene, no?"
She rolls her eyes, turning her head back and breaking eye contact. He allows himself to drop the fake expression.
"Are you … d-do you have anyone else?"
This time, her voice is quieter. Much less teasing in it.
He shakes his head before he can remember she isn't looking. "Nah … you?"
"No," she squeaks, her face remaining forward.
They're quiet again as he continues to carefully clean her.
"You … finished in me—"
"I know, my fault, I'm sorry. I'ma … get you a Plan B—"
"I-I'm on birth control…"
The confession is a stun to the conversation, he's not sure why.
"The shot," she finishes.
He nods to himself, taking the information in.
Finally done with cleaning her off the best he could, he starts on himself. As his hands move, his mouth moves faster than his mind gets the chance to give his words another thought.
"You tryna sleep over tonight?"
She doesn't answer right away.
The brief silence pushes him to say 'forget it, nevermind.' This isn't the first time he's asked the question.
If you want otherworldly writing, go to her page and subscribe to her Patreon—you won't regret it. THIS IS NOT YOUR AVERAGE "SMUT WITH PLOT." The series is incredible, the pacing is spot-on, the world-building is top-tier, the dynamics and dialougue are so natural, the smut is so 😩, and the prose is amazing. Honestly, all her stories are like this. She’s one of the few writers on this app who genuinely outwrites me when it comes to long fics with actual plot and substance (imo). I could write paragraphs about how much I love Neaky’s work, long and short, but I've already sung her praises a million times. Do yourself a favor and tune in—it might just change your life. I can't wait to reread this!😖
Y'all kill me with the "dl;dr. Scroll past it and block," but then turn around and get on people in the comments and reblogs for making general posts about hating/not liking certain content.
People are allowed to voice their opinions on their own blogs. When someone posts, "I hate coming across incest/fauxest, it’s gross," or "I'm sick of all the [blahblah]!" why are you getting so mad and defensive? People are allowed to judge, and people are allowed to have different opinions—just like you do. You choose to write/interactive with these topics, but the moment someone blogs their thoughts, you accuse them of being immature/childish, boring (whatever that means), or being a puritan 😭 It’s so ignorant.
Yes, rape is terrible and horrifying. Incest is disgusting. Writing about sa or pedophilia for the sake of getting off is sick. The infantilized reader kink/fetish—I could go on. It’s called taboo and dark for a reason. Y'all need to get comfortable with the fact that people are going to call it disgusting or weird—because it is. It isn't sweet, sexy, or appealing to most.
If you want the freedom to write and publicly post "taboo" content, you have to accept that people have the freedom to be repulsed by it. They're not demanding you stop writing or keeping you from it. Let them have their space 🤦🏽♀️
I’m so sorry to bother you but this has been itching my brain lately and a really want to ask just to see if I’m tweaking out or not, are you the one that wrote a fic that was titled something like “down boy” and it was like a about some wear wolf hybrid who reader found in the woods and you like helped him through his heat?? Because i genuinely don’t remember who wrote it and it was genuinely SUCH a GOODDDD FIC 😭😭😭 idk where to find it though.
Also did you write a fic with an orc monster in a dungeon and the reader was a witch and a bimbo???? BROO I think im going mad because I SWEAR I READ THESE AND THEY ARE/WERE REAL FICS BRO PLEASE HELP MEEE
On a serious note you write so deliciously I eat it up every time 🤤 thank you fucking so much for downloading this app bro you genuinely saved lives 🙏🏽🩷
-⋆୨୧˚༄
About hybrid stories. The Orc x Enchantress!Bimbo!Reader story will be reposted later this month. Any other missing stories have been permanently deleted. If I didn't like a piece, disliked the audience it attracted, or just felt like removing it, it has been taken down and won't be returning to Tumblr—which applies to most of the monster stories. I’ll only be reposting a select few. Thank you so much for reading and enjoying my work!
Hey 😇, I’ve only got one shot with this so Let skip the small talk, if you ever consider having a sugar daddy and enjoying the finer side of life. I’d love to hear from you!
I love your theme so much! Ergo Proxy is one of my favorite anime ever!! Your page always has some of the best themes!
Thank you!! Ergo Proxy is a favorite for me too—you’ve got fantastic taste. This, along with my Batcomputer theme and the Naruto one, are definitely my top three.
hey! so sorry if you’ve already answered this, but i was wondering if you’ll be re-uploading “filled by lycanlight” and “untitled no.7” i really loved those stories so just wanted to ask. hope you’re having a great day. 💕
About the hydrid stories. Untitled No.7 was super condensed to fit Tumblr's character and space limits, so I'll be revising and reposting the full version whenever. You can join the monster fucker taglist if you want; that way you're more likely to be notified when it's posted. Hope this month has been treating you well—have a great day!
I'm giving y'all a Sakamoto Days hcs, a monster fucker story, aaaand [vote]
pick please
petplay
daddy kink
cuck stuff
results
Voting ended onJul 21
Edit: Petplay-> features a dom reader (I had a tiiiime writing this). Daddy kink-> Pretty tame; if you enjoy my sfl stories, you'll like it. Cuck-> Not your average cuck story (reader and her bf x character insert. A little gay—THAT’S ALL I'M GIVING Y'ALL).
agreed!! specifically plug!connie. . . walk with me
i can imagine him stationary in between clients, picking you up just to devote his spare time to you. he’s looking over, hints of crimson tinting his sunken, weighted eyes from the invariable exposure of secondhand smoke. connie is nodding at whatever you're saying but in reality, he’s not listening to a single word you’re saying—just roaming those pretty hazel eyes across your face, studying the way your face contorts while you express your thoughts. He could listen to you talk forever. the world moves in slow motion outside of his windows all while this song is creeping from speakers, curling around you both akin to a ravenous python. he interrupts you with good intentions—only to whisper, “you’re so pretty, baby.”
can I ask how you write your smut? you go into so much detail and I always feel like everything that I write is the same all the time🫥
You sure can ask and I sure will answer ✨
💗
I'm in a yapping mood, so I wanna preface this by saying, this is all MY opinion about how I write detailed smut. And because I'm a fucking literary nerd, I'm going into a bit of that said detail.
So, tbh, the same techniques you use to write one part of a story are also used to write smut. But the most important thing I often find lacking in some smut is the technique:
"Show, Don't Tell"
To simplify: Don't just tell the audience what's happening by stating a bunch of general facts about your scene or characters; show how it affects both them and the things around them.
Some of the most important parts about smut are the actions taken. But describing actions can only do so much before you just sound repetitive every two to three lines/paragraphs. I find that most people fall into this trap when describing physical characteristics.
Like, if a character's dick/clit/pussy was described and established to be big/hard/wet/etc., during the first few sentences of the previous paragraph, you don't need to state it over again a few breaks down. Instead, tell the audience what they're doing or thinking about that that's turning them on. And then, after that, tell the audience how that's making them feel.
Sometimes it helps to establish a action/cause and effect sort of protocol. I tend to choose three different variations:
● If Character A does this, then it will cause Character B to feel like that.
● If Character B does this, then it will cause Character A to react like that.
● If Character 1 does this, then it will cause Character 2 to feel/look/bodily react like that.
You can even follow it up with a sort of "Therefore" and explain how the reaction is perceived by the person causing it. And yes I'm plugging my own writing as an example.
● Action/Cause: "He hooks the edge of your camisole with a thumb and pulls until the breast he’d captured spills free."
● Effect/Bodily Reaction: "The naked heat of his palm makes the air hang in your lungs for a few seconds before it picks up in your chest."
● Action: "Erik’s thumb traces the prominent, dark edge of an areola, travelling over the soft rise of your nipple before toying idly with it."
● Effect: "it beads and hardens into ebony under his fingertips,"
● Bodily Reaction: "your lashes flutter slightly."
● Therefore: "He rolls and strokes until it becomes difficult to ignore without fidgeting."
That's how it all works together in harmony to provide details when you apply it with more general descriptions of things, then add dialogue and prose.
✨
When it it's time to get down to the real business, pairing action with more descriptive reactions/thoughts works the best for me:
Fave examples:
"You whimper through the initial ache, your hands flying up to find purchase on his arms as he keeps them locked around you."
"He doesn’t let up, keeping you cracked open around him and impeding any twitch or squirm of your hips as his movements circle back in a tight, painstaking rhythm."
"He digs in deep, stretching you out like he’s trying to make space for himself in a place much too small for him to fit in."
"Your body begins to make room for him as he recarves his place inside you—He stays nestled there; hollowing out every hidden crack and corner."
And of course this entire nasty gem:
Also, if you're looking to extend sex or romance scenes, you don't have to think up 83 new positions to keep dragging one scene out for a hundred thousand words.
Try switching to a more limited pov to give a brief look into one of the character's thoughts and feelings.
One more exampled protip:
When it comes to sounds/moans/etc., try to describe that in words as well. You do not have to describe the sounds of sex with the same "slap slap slap. plap plap plap." sound-effect cues you see in a rule34 hentai manga 😭
Ending tips:
● Use a thesaurus when you run out of ways to say one word. And don't be afraid to completely reword a sentence or paragraph to make it fit better either.
● Please re-read your stuff before posting it. Fanfic doesn't have to be perfect, but you want it to be legible to anyone reading it.
● I encourage you to develope your characters a bit more beyond what they bring to the bedroom so that you can give them more of that feeling and detail you're looking for in smut scenes. That connection and immersion for the audience only works with incite into how they think and act.
Hope this helped you a bit anon, I'm going to go put myself in horny jail for the remainder of the night💕
I'm not afraid to drop an actual @, so once again, Hi Epiphany/nahimjustfeelingit-writes
EDIT: I want to clarify something that I did not realize was something people didn't understand because of the way she worded things to her followers but, we were mutuals. She actually followed me first not long after I posted my story because she reblogged it. Which was my point about mentioning interaction. I was on her dashboard until a couple weeks ago. And I can count on one hand the amount of times she was ever in my notifications after that, yet there are all these "coincidences".
I came to you privately and did my damnedest to be cordial and impartial about all this and you thought it would be cute of you to do this shit for whatever reason instead of just agreeing to disagree and blocking one another.
I sent you a DM yesterday afternoon that you ignored. I sent a few more messages that evening when I saw you replying to people. You ignored it. So I sent you an ask at 9:20 this morning that you could have also easily replied privately to and you chose not to.
I don't know why you felt the need to lie about that when it's in your own screenshots with timestamps. But then again, you barely read what I was saying to you before responding in the first place.
And it's probably why you reblogged this post trying to be funny after you talked to me.
I truly do not care about any of the shit you're waxing. You're saying more in public posts and asks than you were willing to say to my face one on one because you need followers echoing you in the background. Which tells me a lot about your character lol.
I chose the mature route of NOT publicly calling you out, and I'm glad I did. The bullshit you're egging on in your comments and asks just proves my point. You're trying to cover your ass by blasting this down the dashboard like some kind of social media influencer wannabe instead of someone in a fandom trying to cultivate a community.
I honestly could've done the same to you. I have other blogs with a hefty amount of followers as well, so I know how this goes. I've been on here since 2012 the same way you been here since 2018. But when I get responses like this, I no longer give a fuck about being nice or liked. I get my attention at home from friends and family like everyone else and come to tumblr for interaction from like-minded creatives.
Clearly that's not what you're about.
I was truly going to just leave things where they were in the DMs and block you, girl. But since you want to put on your clown wig and have everyone on here talking crazy, I'm taking off the filter.
If your story is about the same character, and has the same theme, the same wording setups, AND the same dialogue (remixed✨ apparently), with a similarly themed OC, I'm gonna notice.
And first thing I'm doing is putting the entire conversation up here without any cutoffs.
Never once did I say that your plot was "exactly the same as mine", you projected that shit into the conversation because you didn't read. I even clarify that when you asked. Any good creative or artist knows you don't have to copy "everything" to be inspired by someone else.
No one told you that making an Erik College AU meant that you're stealing. So for future reference; Words mean things✨
What is the likelihood of you having every single one of these elements in your story at the same time as me, for the same damn character, in the same damn fandom, if you're "creative" enough to make up your own shit?
Here's the post I mentioned about the Wakanda Forever thing btw [ x ] because she even used the same picture from the gifs in her recent chapter [ x ]
Like, I didn't even mention the whole thing where your OC goes on a random date with a "good guy that's really good for her, but she doesn't really like him because she actually wants Erik. and it makes him jealous" thing the same damn way I mention Bunny did with Tyler.
But alllll of that is coincidentally in your story at the same damn time, I guess??
I can even put another obvious example from my chapter three scene since you wanted another one so badly.
But you're "always recycling old dialogue", right?
Speaking of examples, you asked me for evidence, but as of right now; you've blocked me again🙄, you've unpinned your latest chapter of Say My Name, made your blog unsearchable and deleted old asks. Why would someone not feeling guilty do that?
And I'm curious about what happened to this ask in particular from January 23rd that got suddenly deleted today after you started asking for me to post up??? [ x ]
Like, that's okay, cause I got screenshots, but none of this really makes you look any better after reblogging multiple posts talking shit to me, now does it?
It's funny how the same day that you answered this ^^ You were also in my notifications liking a post. Granted, you can say you liked it from a reblog, but my point is that you were adjacent to or on my blog that day.
Now what does this have to do with you being a weirdo? Well, it was around the time I was answering asks about Indelible that included the AU lore I made for the heart-shaped herb and how it affects the body. [ x ]
Which is an element I already have in my story btw.
I even talked about planning to expand on it all in other very detailed asks. [ x ] [ x ]
Now why, in your very normal sounding College AU that has NEVER mentioned Erik being super-human, royalty, or having ANYTHING to do with the heart-shaped herb, suddenly have this as an insinuated plot point??? And then why would you delete the evidence of you saying it??? You gonna justify this as "you sent me an ask to trick me" too?
Cause, GIRL?? After a while coincidences are no longer coincidences.
And because you want to be funny and incite your followers to talk more shit—ESPECIALLY ones like this [ x ] who openly harasses writers cause she too fucking dumb to heed the warnings on that same fanfic—I now feel the need to be hilarious.
Babe, I didn't say you stole my whole plotline because there isn't a plot to be found in your story. It's empty filler and descriptions that repeat themselves. Like, you keke-ing with people saying I'm jealous and I'm wondering why I would be jealous of this???
And does that stuff you wrote above flow or read ANYTHING like what you wrote here??? [ x ]
Or does it sound like the advice in the ask this entire post is reblogged from as I said?
Like, you cannot make this shit up at this point😭
Yes, I said you copied the advice I gave without interacting. And then you conveniently got a smut story request for Erik THE SAME DAMN DAY, obviously using that advice, and even the examples I give. Which were ALSO FROM INDELIBLE, MIND YOU.
And I hope you didn't hurt yourself reaching for the screen when you projected the idea that EYE or anyone I know sent you requests. Because what the fuck would that even prove? 😭 Hooow would that work in my favor? I clearly had no problems showing I got the clit to come to you directly when enough became enough.
And yeah I'm about to be meaner, because if something actually happened in the 101k word story you've magically written since December, then there'd be something else to actually consider besides what I showed and named above.
Because what is Say My Name even about? How does any of the shit you've written so far connect together to make a plot? What direction will that whole fuckass relationship you strung together go when it's based off of literally nothing but the settings you read in my story and heard me mention?
Both Erik and your OC sound confused and repetitive half the time because you can't commit to making their personalities fit the non-existent plot you have going on. And that's because it's based off borrowed elements of my OC's more submissive personality constantly flip-flopping with your need to make your OC be "in control" or whatever. Even Erik goes between "I'm a threatening badass, and she doesn't know what she's dealing with" to "wow this girl I never paid attention to until 24hrs ago is SUPER important to me".
It's almost as if they were supposed to have had some kinda pre-established relationship, huh?
Because there is no "complex plot", it makes what you've done very obvious to people who actually read and comprehend them. Your whole chapters be 20k something words each, just spinning in circles because they barely move from the kitchen or bedroom of that brownstone/townhouse you put them in.
And as for the whole "I've been writing since 2018" bullshit.
Okay?? Congratulations, I've been writing creatively since grade school, front and back of college-rule paper with binders filled from top to bottom. That shit is not an excuse.
─────────────────────
Now, let's say you got to this point of the post and you still disagree she was being weird and taking shit from my story. Aight cool. I honestly don't care. Agree to disagree like I originally intended. But since she ousted herself, yeah, the majority of the shit she's been putting out since 2025 is mixed with, or at times, completely written with AI.
It shows. EVERYWHERE. And I feel bad for the people she's gaslighting into believing she's not.
As your followers pointed out, I talk about AI a lot. Most real artists and writers do nowadays. The amount of fucks I give about all the people laughing like high schoolers about this in your asks and comments amounts to the same fraction of Black in Mary's DNA.
I cite my sources and findings openly without running into everybody's inbox on anon or telling them I hate them under their posts. [ x ] [ x ] [ x ]
Please cry me a river to replenish the water all that AI is sucking up from marginalized Black and Brown neighborhoods if that upsets you.
Like this is literally the part that aggravated me most. You used my shit with AI and are lying your WHOLE ass off about it, and all I asked you to do was STOP DOING THAT WITH MY SHIT.
^^^ Most of that is from one chapter of your story, and people who see these patterns and read actual books know exactly what this is.
I even take AI detectors with a huge grain of salt when looking at them, and your shit STILL scores 70, 80 and 100%s
From several different checkers, mind you.
^^All that was randomly sampled from the beginning of your last chapter of Sanctified Heat. [ x ]
You've even used it to reply to asks. Because what in the chatGPT analysis is this??
So like I said, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but you asked for smoke, so I brought you fire.
I deadass wouldn't have minded you taking inspiration and borrowing if you could've just been fucking normal about it. But you wanted to show out, so this is all I really got to say on the matter.
And forgive me, Umber, for jumping on your post, but what are we doing 🫠
I can't believe this needs to be said aloud. AI is theft, full stop. Stealing from another writer, a real Black writer during Black History Month, is wrong.
AI is the very enemy to creativity and does not belong in creative spaces. Computers cannot feel. They cannot think. They cannot write. And feeding someone else's hard work into a machine to be regurgitated into senseless slop is ten levels of fucked up and unethical. AI and bad minded behavior do not belong on a hobby website for hobby activities.
Tumblr is not a social media app in the usual sense. It is for the free thinkers, dreamers, and the strange. It is an anonymous app where no one knows who the hell you are. You can't clout chase on an anonymous website. 🥲 You can't be Tumblr famous over words you can't be bothered to write or proofread 🫠
Fanfic is a hobby. It is a labor of love. It is being so completely un-normal about a piece of media that you have to write about it and find others to talk about it with. But it also takes real work to learn the rules and create something meaningful. When you're trying to be a social media Queen Bee on an anonymous app, you get people who want to cheat because they refuse to do the work to learn how to write.
Using AI is cheating. And cheating at a hobby, cheating at something that's free and accessible to everyone, is wild and weird behavior quite honestly. For...what end goal? More followers? More likes? To be the "best writer on here"? That's empty praise and cold comfort on something stolen and fabricated. It's a poorman's participation trophy.
If you use AI to cheat, write, respond to comments and asks, then you're a loser. You do not belong in this space. AI will never be welcome. It will never be fetch. It will never have a place on this site. It is not inevitable. It is not all powerful. And your AI fics are hella obvious, BTW. Ya'll don't use it but conveniently have the same writing style and turns of phrase 🙄
If you don't know how to spot AI use, here is a handy guide lovingly crafted by Umber to spot it. But do not go on a witch hunt 🤨: Common AI Phrases
I am deeply disgusted at what I witnessed, what was discussed on this post, and how people have jumped down Umber's asks with hate mail and cult-like behavior when she dropped nothing but fact after fact. And now you're doxxing her??
This was an A&B conversation that should have stayed one. Since it didn't, it needs to be addressed. The culture on here has been broken for a long while. Black fanfic spaces are embarrassing and frustrating to be in. Yall don't want it fixed and that's fine. However, this post and the resulting peanut gallery commentary finally PROVES that most of ya'll were never interested in community and don't actually READ these fics.
You're interested in smut by any means necessary. Who can write it the fastest and the best. No regard for characters, plot, or overall mood. No follow up questions, no discussions, and no theories. This place is a zombie wasteland, gobbling up smut fics like it's going out of style and then immediately demanding the next one without so much as a thank you. Which leads to instances like this. ☝🏽
Overproducing subpar fics with no real story or plot that's repetitive, written poorly, and lacking any coherent thought. But hey, as long as the smut is there, who cares? 🤷🏽♀️ honestly, go watch porn at this point and get off this site.
A lot of folks 🤨 owe Umber a huge apology, out loud, full chest. Because if not guilty, why guilty shaped?
For extra credit
And always remember that if you feel itchy, take it up with a higher power, not me. My block hand stay strong 🥰😘
:/ This is fucked up. Seeing this in a Black centered fandom at that?
I already got wind of AI being other black fanfic spaces, but seeing it in sinners is...surpising?? But also disappointing.
Its not like Umber-Cinders came off rudely or anything. She came with screenshots and seemed to approach it pretty diplomatically. And with how far the other author content goes back and being as I am a incognito reader.
Im surpised she answered like that, instead of answering and generally talking about it. Seeing her blowing off the conversation and trying to bully Umber. Definitely has put a bad taste in my mouth for that corner of Sinners fandom.
That's cringe as hell.
I feel like being honest could of turning this conversation a totally different direction or just tagging the OG and moving on. But that's my opinion.
This post went over everyone’s head because it wasn’t a blatant copy-and-paste. But the story sequence is identical, and given how the whole situation played out... yeah. This just goes to show how people who only read fanfiction or erotica sometimes struggle to understand nuance when it isn't clearly slapped in their face.
