#not because I cosign everything she said but because context is important.

[sisteroutsiders]

Audre Lorde's 1989 Commencement Address to graduates of Oberlin College

Audre Lorde

Oberlin College

May 29, 1989

I congratulate you all on this moment of your lives. Most people don't remember their commencement addresses. Next year, when someone asks you who spoke at graduation, I wonder what you will say. I remember she was a middle-aged Black woman. I remember she had a nice voice. I remember she was a poet. But what did she say? After all, there are no new ideas. Only new ways of making those ideas real and active through our lives. What you most of all of do not need right now is more rhetoric. What you need are facts you don't ordinarily get to help you fashion weapons that matter for the war in which we are all engaged. A war for survival in the twenty-first century, the survival of this planet and all this planet's people.

Thanks to Jesse Jackson (Poem)

The US and the USSR are the most powerful countries in the world but only 1/8 of the world's population African people are also 1/8 of the world's population. 1/2 of the world's population is Asian. 1/2 of that number is Chinese. There are 22 nations in the Middle East. Not three.

Most people in the world are Yellow, Black, Brown, Poor, Female Non-Christian and do not speak english.

By the year 2000 the 20 largest cities in the world will have two things in common none of them will be in Europe and none in the United States.

You are all so very beautiful. But I have seen special and beautiful before, and I ask myself where are they now? What makes you different? Well, to begin with, you are different because you have asked me to come and speak with you from my heart, on what is a very special day for each of you. So when they ask you, who spoke at your commencement, remember this: I am a Black feminist lesbian warrior poet doing my work, and a piece of my work is asking you, how are you doing yours? And when they ask you, what did she say, tell them I asked you the most fundamental question of your life—who are you, and how are you using the powers of that self in the service of what you believe?

You are inheriting a country that has grown hysterical with denial and contradiction. Last month in space five men released a satellite that is on its way to the planet Venus, and the infant mortality rate in the capital of this nation is higher than in Kuwait. We are citizens of the most powerful country on earth—we are also citizens of a country that stands upon the wrong side of every liberation struggle on earth. Feel what that means. It is a reality that haunts each of our lives and that can help inform our dreams. It's not about altruism, it's about self-preservation. Survival.

A twenty-eight-year-old white woman is beaten and raped in Central Park. Eight Black boys are arrested and accused of taking part in a rampage against joggers. That is a nightmare that affects each of our lives. I pray for the body and soul of every one of these young people trapped in this compound tragedy of violence and social reprisal. None of us escapes the brutalization of the other. Using who we are, testifying with our lives to what we believe is not altruism, it is a question of self-preservation. Black children did not declare war upon this system, it is the system which declared war upon Black children, both female and male.

Ricky Boden, eleven, Staten Island, killed by police, 1972. Clifford Glover, ten, Queens, New York, killed by police, 1975. Randy Evans, fourteen, Bronx, New York, killed by police, 1976. Andre Roland, seventh grader, found hanged in Columbia, Missouri, after being threatened for dating a white girl. The list goes on. You are strong and intelligent. Your beauty and your promise lie like a haze over your faces. I beg you, do not waste it. Translate that power and beauty into action wherever you find yourself to be, or you will participate in your own destruction.

I have no platitudes for you. Before most of you are thirty, 10 percent of you will be involved with space traffic and 10 percent of you will have contracted AIDS. This disease which may yet rival the plague of the Dark Ages is said to have originated in Africa, spontaneously and inexplicably jumping from the green monkey to man. Yet in 1969, twenty years ago, a book entitled A Survey of Chemical and Biological Warfare, written by John Cookson and Judith Nottingham, published by Monthly Review Press, discussed green monkey disease as a fatal blood, tissue, and venereally transmitted virus which is an example of a whole new class of disease-causing organisms, and of biological warfare interest. It also discussed the possibilities of this virus being genetically manipulated to produce "new" organisms.

But I do have hope. To face the realities of our lives is not a reason for despair—despair is a tool of your enemies. Facing the realities of our lives gives us motivation for action. For you are not powerless. This diploma is a piece of your power. You know why the hard questions must be asked. It is not altruism, it is self-preservation—survival.

Each one of us in this room is privileged. You have a bed, and you do not go to it hungry. We are not part of those millions of homeless people roaming america today. Your privilege is not a reason for guilt, it is part of your power, to be used in support of those things you say you believe. Because to absorb without use is the gravest error of privilege. The poorest one-fifth of this nation became 7 percent poorer in the last ten years, and the richest one-fifth of the nation became 11 percent richer. How much of your lives are you willing to spend merely protecting your privileged status? ls that more than you are prepared to spend putting your dreams and beliefs for a better world into action? That is what creativity and empowerment [are] all about. The rest is destruction. And it will have to be one or the other.

It is not enough to believe in justice. The median income for Black and Hispanic families has fallen in the last three years, while the median income of white families rose 1.5 percent. We are eleven years away from a new century, and a leader of the Ku Klux Klan can still be elected to Congress from the Republican party in Louisiana. Little fourteen-year-old Black boys in the seventh grade are still being lynched for dating a white girl. It is not enough to say we are against racism.

It is not enough to believe in everyone's right to her or his own sexual preference. Homophobic jokes are not just fraternity high jinks. Gay bashing is not just fooling around. Less than a year ago a white man shot two white women in their campsite in Pennsylvania, killing one of them. He pleaded innocent, saying he had been maddened by their making love inside their own tent. If you were sitting on that jury, what would you decide?

It is not enough to believe anti-Semitism is wrong, when the vandalism of synagogues is increasing, amid the homegrown fascism of hate groups like the Christian Identity and Tom Metzger's American Front. The current rise in jokes against Jewish women masks anti-Semitism as well as women hatred. What are you going to say the next time you hear a JAP story?

We do not need to become each other in order to work together. But we do need to recognize each other, our differences as well as the sameness of our goals. Not for altruism. For self-preservation—survival.

Every day of your lives is practice in becoming the person you want to be. No instantaneous miracle is suddenly going to occur and make you brave and courageous and true. And every day that you sit back silent, refusing to use your power, terrible things are being done in our name.

Our federal taxes contribute $3 billion yearly in military and economic aid to Israel. Over $200 million of that money is spent fighting the uprising of Palestinian people who are trying to end the military occupation of their homeland. Israeli solders fire tear gas canisters made in america into Palestinian homes and hospitals, killing babies, the sick, and the elderly. Thousands of Palestinians, some as young as twelve, are being detained without trial in barbed-wired detention camps, and even many Jews of conscience opposing these acts have also been arrested and detained. 

Encouraging your congresspeople to press for a peaceful solution in the Middle East, and for recognition of the rights of the Palestinian people, is not altruism, it is survival. 

In particular, my sisters and brothers, I urge you to remember, while we battle the many faces of racism in our daily lives as African Americans, that we are part of an international community of people of Color, and people of the African diaspora around the world are looking to us and asking, how are we using the power we have? Or are we allowing our power to be used against them, our brothers and sisters in struggle for their liberation?

Apartheid is a disease spreading out from South Africa across the whole southern tip of Africa. This genocidal system in South Africa is kept propped into place by the military and economic support of the U.S., Israel, and Japan. Let me say here that I support the existence of the state of Israel as I support the existence of the U.S.A., but this does not blind me to the grave injustices emanating from either. Israel and South Africa are intimately entwined, politically and economically. There are no diamonds in Israel, yet diamonds are Israel's major source of income. Meanwhile, Black people slave in the diamond mines of South Africa for less than thirty cents a day.

It is not enough to say we are against apartheid. Forty million of our tax dollars go as aid to the South Africa-backed UNITA forces to suppress an independent Angola. Our dollars pay for the land mines responsible for over 50,000 Angolan amputees. It appears that Washington is joining hands with South Africa to prevent [the] independence of Namibia. Now make no mistake. South Africa, Angola, Namibia will be free. But what will we say when our children ask us, what were you doing, mommy and daddy, while american-made bullets were murdering Black children in Soweto?

In this country, children of all colors are dying of neglect. Since 1980, poverty has increased 30 percent among white children in america. Fifty percent of African American children and 30 percent of Latino children grow up in poverty, and that percentage is even higher for the indigenous people of this land, American Indians. While the Magellan capsule speeds through space toward the planet Venus, thirty children on this planet earth die every minute from hunger and inadequate health care. And in each one of those minutes, $1,700,000 are spent on war.

The white fathers have told us: "l think, therefore I am." But the Black mother within each one of us—the poet inside—whispers in our dreams: "I feel, therefore I can be free." Learn to use what you feel to move you toward action. Change, personal and political, does not come about in a day, nor a year. But it is our day-to-day decisions, the way in which we testify with our lives to those things in which we say we believe, that empower us. Your power is relative, but it is real. And if you do not learn to use it, it will be used, against you, and me, and our children. Change did not begin with you, and it will not end with you, but what you do with your life is an absolutely vital piece of that chain. The testimony of your daily living is the missing remnant in the fabric of our future.

There are so many different parts to each of us. And there are so many of us. If we can envision the future we desire, we can work to bring it into being. We need all the different pieces of ourselves to be strong, as we need each other and each other's battles for empowerment.

That surge of power you feel inside you now does not belong to me, nor to your parents, nor to your professors. That power lives inside of you. It is yours, you own it, and you will carry it out of this room. And whether you use it or whether you waste it, you are responsible for it. Good luck to you all. Together, in the conscious recognition of our differences, we can win, and we will.

A LUTA CONTINUA [The struggle continues].

[eerythingisshaka]

Moronic Jealousy

(M’Baku x Reader)

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings:  Fluff and Smut, 

A/N:  HAPPY BIRTHDAY ATHENA!!! 🎉🎉🎂🎂🎁🎈💕💋 

I fully intended on posting this on the actual day, had the plot and everything but this week was, whew chile!  So after some selfcare, I finally got a story for you @muse-of-mbaku!  Happy Birthday and I hope New Orleans treats you well.  Continue to be great, break necks, and make moves!  This is inspired by a part of A Different World episode between Jaleesa and Walter.  Soon as I saw it on Prime Video, I been wanting to use it as fanfic fodder. It’s silly, so I hope you like it!

“So then I was like ‘Put the pussy on the chainwax!’”  Michelle cackles out loud as you and Adriene look at each other, telepathically wondering if your friend has gone insane.

“Honey, why would you say that in traffic court?  I enjoy the enthusiasm, but it’s misguided.”  Adriene states, leaning into her glass of moscato.

“You just don’t get it.  (Y/N), you get what I was trying to say, right?”  Michelle looks to you.

After several seconds of gulping air to find the words you respond.  “To me you just added a charge of animal cruelty on top of not having a working headlight, so I’d put you up for 3 years if it was my word, but Adriene is the jury here.”

Girls night is your favorite night of the week.  It’s a tradition that has been hard to keep up with given the busy weekdays you all shared, but in a way that made the final connect all the more sweeter.  And what comes with that is your favorite pastime: Drunk Courtroom.

“Man, you ALWAYS take Adri’s side in this.”  Michelle pouts, blowing a 3B curl out of her face.

“That’s what the judge does!  My jury tells me what to do- I think I need to cut you off of the Barefoot, cuz…”  You slide the bottle closer to you on the coffee table.

“No, that ain’t my problem!  You really bossy since your engagement to Timbuktu.”  Michelle cheeses into her glass.

Your jaw drops, scoffing.  “Oh my God, how many times I gotta tell you to stop calling him that!  Especially now that he is my future husband, chill with alldat.”

Michelle giggles, pushing you a little.  “Can I play a little??  You landed a gold mine, or should I say vibranium mine with him as your catch.  See what happens when you put the pussy on the chainwax?”

“Once again.  I. Don’t. Understand. That. Phrase.”  You clap between each word in frustration.  “Besides. He doesn’t work with the vibranium, he handles Jabari wood, which is just as sacred and important.”

“It sure the hell is.”  Adriene says out the side of her mouth.  “I bet his wood is handled very properly, hence the ring….”

“Stop.”

Michelle chimes in with a seductive tone.  “Does he wax his own wood, or do you do it for him?”

“Guys.”

“Is that what he names it?  Jabari?  ‘Jabari needs some attention…’ or whatever?”  Adriene inquires with an M’Baku impression that sounded more like Vincent Price.

“Fuck off y’all, damn!”  You get up in embarrassment to get some ice cream from the fridge as Adriene and Michelle balk in laughter.  Don’t nobody know how to cut you down from your high horse like your friends.

“Ok, ok.  My bad, we just playing with you!”  Michelle calls out.

Adriene cosigns.  “Can you blame us?  Mr. Perfect out here wining and dining you, leading a whole damn tribe and slaps a rock like that on your finger?  Don’t pay attention to us.”

Sitting back on the couch you lick your spoon instead of your wounds; the vanilla, brownie, caramel combo soothing you as you hold out your left hand.  

Two weeks ago, M’Baku took you on a gondola ride that set the mood for romance just right.  You weren’t expecting anything to come from it but some snuggles with your love but when the boat looped back to dock, rose petals covered the path a nearby fountain, fanciful luminarias shaped in a heart on the ground marked the spot where he led you.  One of his cousins was there to shoot the moment as M’Baku got down on one knee and spoke his sweet words to you.  You couldn’t pay attention to their context because you were sobbing so much but knowing him they were profound and loving.  When you said yes he couldn’t stop hooting in the dead of night, hugging you tightly, kisses unabating.  He hasn’t stopped holding your hand since because ‘the ring is so heavy.’  

“Yeah, well I still can’t stand y’all heffas.”  You grumble, rocking into them side to side.

“I wanna play a new game.  Adri, pick something, child.”  Michelle directs, pouring her glass to the brim again.

“I’m three years older than you, but go off I guess.”  Adriene mutters under her breath, pulling her braids back in thought.  “How about...Telephone!”

You scoff at her suggestion.  “You need at least 10 people for that game to be effective.  Pick something else.”

“What’re you talking about?  All you need is some phone numbers and gumption to cold call people.”  Adriene says with lip smack, pulling out her phone.

Michelle groans.  “Girl, you talkin bout crank calling people, not telephone.  Telephone is the whisper challenge for people with a lot of friends basically.”  

“Ohhh, you right!  Ok, so crank calls.  Let’s make em!”  Adriene picks up a handful of hot cheetos, munching excitedly.  “And Michelle should go first since she so smart or whatever!”

Michelle screws her face up.  “No!  If I apparently lost Courtroom, I’m sitting out first round.  (Y/N), start things off.”

“I don’t feel like it.”  You whine, not entirely joking.  The moscato and late hour of the night made for a deadly combo.

“Pleeeease.  One round!  Ooh, to make it interesting, how about calling Tim?”  Michelle asks sneakily.

“His name is M’Baku!”  You exclaim.

“That’s neither here nor there.  I wanna see this!  Wake his ass up!”  Adriene says, bouncing in her seat.

You lay the ice cream down, picking up your phone regretfully.  “What do I even say?”

That’s all Michelle had to here.  “Ok, so check it.  You call him and change your voice a little to make it seem like you’re someone else and just catch his reaction.”

“Pretend he got child support payments due!”  Adriene offers.

“You always gotta be extra, Adriene!  But he’ll know it’s me.  This ain’t the 90s no more and he has my number after all.”  

Michelle brushes your doubt away.  “Just *67 him!  It still works today, trust me…”  her voice trails off as she sips from her glass shaking her head in an apparent flashback.

“O....k.  I’ll try it, but soon as he knows its me, I’m cutting it.  I don’t wanna stress my baby.”  You say, lowkey getting excited by the approaching tease.  Adriene cuts the music they were playing as you dial in silence.  

The phone rings on speaker phones ominously as you wait for M’Baku to pick up, fully expecting him to say your name and catching you instantly.

“Hello?”  He says sleepily.

You pause, words leaving your brain as Adriene and Michelle mime things to say.

“Uh, bueno, I’m so sorry for the late call.”  You say, lowkey butchering a Spanish accent as you hang your head in shame, certain you are caught already.

You hear rustling on M’Baku’s end as he moves.  “Well, may I ask who is this?”

You hated this already but push your way through the conversation.  “This is...Daniella?  Um, lo siento.  Pero, a friend of mine gave me your number to call so I could introduce myself.”

“What friend?”   He asks curtly.

You look to your girls for help on this one as they mouth names.

“Uhhh, Terrance?  Michelle’s brother.”  You say hesitantly.  They had only met a couple times at group events, so they were hardly friends but it is the best you have to make a connection.

“Ohhh, Terrance, yes, we are wonderful friends.  Known him for years.”  M’Baku says perking up.  You make a face at the phone as he lies so effortlessly.  “So can I help you with something, Ms.  Daniella?”

“Well, you may not know me but I have seen you at the gym a few times,  y I was muy impressed by su cuerpo y musculos….sorry!  I meant your body and muscles, I’m always slipping that way.”  You say playfully to keep up your Spanish identity.

“No, it is alright.  I speak Spanish fluently so si quieres, podemos hacerlo-”

“No!  No, but thank you!”  You clutch your chest as your heart pounds nervously.  No way in hell your high school Spanish could keep up with his.  “But, maybe we could meet in person and study our native tongues together.”  You throw that in for good measure.  Michelle almost howls out at your brazenness.  

M’Baku chortles out loud, and you know you are caught.  Shaking your head as he laughs at you, you almost start to reveal the prank and ask him to knock it off.

“I have never been so enchanted by a woman I have yet to meet.  You have piqued my interest, Daniella, I cannot lie.”

“Really?  Oh, you are making me nervous now.  I thought for sure you would have someone already keeping your attention.  You are just so handsome.”  You waited on edge for his response.  This is when you will surprise him that the woman he is about to talk about in his life is the one pranking him.

“Nooo, I try to keep my personal life as stress free as possible.  And I am very relaxed right now, so I would love to meet you sometime.”  

You can hear the smile in his voice as his baritone shines through, and you are disgusted.  That voice that made you quiver is intentionally being used for another woman, imaginary or not.  You couldn’t look at your friends for fear of breaking down.

“Wonderful!  How about tomorrow night, 8pm?  Since you are free…”  You try your best to keep up the art of seduction but it is waning fast.

“Perfect.  We can meet at this nice restaurant by the Lake Kenoba.  It’s beautiful at that time of evening.”

“Perfect!  See you then.”  

Hanging up the phone, you look to Michelle and Adriene who are staring back at you, mouths agape.  

“That didn’t go as planned.”  You say, tossing your phone aside on the couch cushions.  

“Why the hell did you pretend to be a date for him?  I can’t believe he’s playing us...I mean you!!” Adriene exclaims.

Michelle pats your back.  “Now now, don’t get so up in arms.  I bet you five he is pranking you back.  No way in hell he actually fell for that.  Your Russian accent was so far left field, I couldn’t-”

“It was Spanish!”  You say defensively.  Michelle just makes a face, looking to Adriene for help.

“Ok, well, honestly I agree with Michelle on this.  He is a smart man, and loves you to death up until now.  No way this is a sign of anything else.  Right?”

You sit back on the couch looking to the ceiling to search your thoughts for anything that may have lead to a sign of this coming.  “Guys, I don’t meant to kick y’all out but I need to be alone.”

They both try to convince you to not think too much into the whole conversation, but that was impossible.  Soon as they left, you were pacing the floor, channeling Angela Bassett circa Waiting to Exhale.  If the band on your ring wasn’t vibranium, you would burn it with his clothes.  Instead, you come to a moment of clarity.  Maybe they are right and he isn’t a low down, dirty dick ass cheater.  Maybe.

You pick your phone up and text him a ‘Hey babe!’ with a kissy face.  His response is quick, giving you an equally affectionate hello text.  

You text him asking for some time to see him tomorrow night at 8pm.  Same time as Maria, or Lisbeth, or whatever name you gave yourself.  You see the bubbles pop up and disappear several times on screen, driving you insane.  Now he takes his time to reply?!

He says he cannot make it, meeting with family that day.  You offer to come with, but he says it is private.  Too private for your future WIFE to be apart of??

You end the conversation, not bothering to respond.  Your phone dings again but you don’t bother checking it out.  As you make your way to bed, you look up on Amazon for gasoline cans and bleach with one day shipping guarantees.

The next day, you are in a hazy cloud of dread.  Your concentration at work is gone, you barely could eat lunch, and Michelle and Adriene keep blowing up your phone asking for updates, which there were none.  Your fears had already been confirmed so what more was there to talk about?  

That’s when your brain hatches up a plan.  You were gonna catch him in the act, no doubt about it.  When you got off work, you went to your place to gather an overnight bag and head over to his.  He won’t even feel like going out when you were through ‘being his peace’.

Pulling up, you knock on his door at 6:30pm.  M’Baku opens the door, shirtless in his joggers.  

“(Y/N), what are you-”

“I figured after you are through with your family, we could hang out!”  You say hurriedly, walking briskly past him as he stares at you in confusion while you toss your bag aside.

M’Baku walks over to you, arms crossed.  His pics substantiated by his stance and bold tattoos across them.  “Did you text me before getting here?”

You swiftly turn to him, taking off your jacket and shoes.  “No, not at all.  Should I have?  Am I interrupting something?”

M’Baku furrows his brow looking from your bag to you.  “Like I said, I made plans with family at 8, so I am in the process of getting ready.”

You blink a couple times, holding your chest.  “Oh, oh!  Don’t let me stop you, Timbuktu!  You do all you need and keep it moving, I’ll be upstairs chilling.”  You pick up your bag and head up.

“Tim- Have you seen Michelle today?  Why are you calling me that?  And what is in the bag love?”  M’Baku calls after you.

You don’t answer as you head to his bedroom and get undressed, grabbing a shirt of his out of the dresser to put on as a night gown.

“You got a lotta questions for me, but I ain’t asked you a damn thing.  SO don’t worry about me, just go on your little date...with your family.  I’ll do your laundry while you’re gone, how’s that?”  You give him a tight smile as you crawl up in bed, turning on the TV on almost full blast.  

M’Baku’s belly jiggles as he chuckles to himself with his hands on his hips before going to check your bag.

“Get outta my stuff!”  You exclaim, getting up to pull his hand away from inside.  

This is an obvious trap as M’Baku swiftly wraps you up in his arms, staring you down with a cold, calculative expression.  “Where’s the gas can you ordered?  Bleach?”

You shrank in his grasp as you wiggled to make him put you down.  Damn that shared Amazon account.

You stand up to him defiantly.  “Where’s Daniella, hm?  She meeting you at that restaurant, right?”  

M’Baku’s expressions cracked into a smirk.  You wanted to rip those full lips off of his face.  “It’s about time you brought it up.”

You exhale sharply.  “Why?  Because I should’ve always known?  I should’ve suspected it a long time ago that you been two timing me?”  You are shrill as you crawl into his bed in the fetal position.  

M’Baku groans as he sit on the edge of the bed in front of you.  “Come on, my adored one.  Is that what you think of me?”

You shake your head, long faced.  “Of course not, until she called you.”

“But it was you!  You called me!”

“You didn’t know that!”

M’Baku laughs out loud, slapping his knee.  You push on his broad back with your feet to try and get him off the bed to no avail.  “Aye, you think I believed that wasn’t you but a random woman who attends my gym, that I haven’t even noticed has any female participants at the early hour I go.  And is also friends with a sibling of your friend who I have only seen less than a handful of times?”

“Then why did you lie and say you knew him for years?”

“I was trying to break you out of character!   But you fell into it, so I kept going along to pull the wool over your eyes instead.  Plus, your Japanese accent was borderline offensive.”  M’Baku says softly, bringing his hand to your cheek, brushing it with his thumb.

“IT WAS SPANISH!  Why would I SPEAK Spanish while sounding Japanese.”

M’Baku’s body shakes a little as his face strains to hold back his childish laughter.

“You are diabolical.”  You mutter, attempting to nip at his fingertips.

M’Baku gave you a gap toothed smile big enough to make the earth quake.  “Don’t blame me, your friends have gotten you into trouble with me plenty of times before but we make up, always.”

You huff as you turn to the TV to remain bothered.  “I’m not ready to make up.”

M’Baku lays his head back on your belly, talking to the ceiling.  “What if I told you I made reservations at the aforementioned restaurant and I had planned to  come by and pick you up to expose your plan. Hm?”

Your heart falls at this revelation.  You would’ve loved to have seen that happen, and that restaurant had bread and butter you would kill to consume right now, and pack extras in your purse.  But jumping to conclusions ruined that as it is your Olympic sport, gold medal winner.  

“M’Baku, I’ll give it to you that I shouldn’t have thought that you would two time me, especially without talking to you first.  But I still don’t like that you tricked me.  You drug it out on me too long.”

M’Baku rolls over, his head traveling up your arm to your neck, kissing behind your ear and humming.  The vibrations of his voice tickled you along with his breath but you ignore the dopamine flowing through you, lying perfectly still and unphased.

M’Baku picks his head up, tutting at you as he gets off the bed to head for the restroom.  Next sound you hear is the shower coming on.   You hope he doesn’t think you’re joking about not wanting to go out now because you were firmly in that frame of mind.

His 1000 count sheets caressed your skin nicely as you snuggled under his down comforter.  That coupled with the pitter patter of the shower left you fighting your eyelids to watch the TV screen and losing.

You were awakened by the shift of weight on the bed, M’Baku wrapping his arm around your midsection to pull up behind you, breathing in the coconut and shea scent of your hair before resting his hand fully encompassing one of your breasts.

Instinctively, you hold his arm tightly.  “I’m still mad at you.”

“Eh, I know.”  His lips graze your ear lobe, making you flinch.

“And I don’t wanna go to dinner with you.”

“The reservation time passed.  You slept through it.”  

“Did you go eat without me?”  You ask.

M’Baku’s hand moves to travel up your thigh.  “I’m not going anywhere when you’re laying in my bed.”

You start to feel warm all over, a familiar sensation begs you to give in.  “Whatever man.”

M’Baku’s groan rumbles through his body as he reaches under your nightgown/his shirt, grazing your fupa, playing in your tuft of hair between your legs.  “I don’t want to bed you while you’re angry…”

Your hand clutches his forearm desperately as your legs part slightly involuntarily.  “You think I’m that easy?”

M’Baku’s plush lips falls on your neck softly.  “No.  That’s why you are perfect for me.  I never worked so hard in my life to get what I want.”

His wide hand pushes your legs apart farther as they plunge between your thighs, palming your pussy.  His fingers finding your wetness with ease.

You gasp, hips bucking for friction against his hand.  “I think I need  a little more convincing…”

“At your service.”  M’Baku crawls under the covers.  You giggle as you lie on your back watching his frame under the blanket make mountains to get to your lower portion.  Feeling yourself spread underneath the covers without him in sight is exhilarating for you.  You feel his breath on you as he exhales with built up lust.  When his tongue spreads across your lips your back concaves in aching relief.  M’Baku’s tongue goes into a rhythm between your inner labia, flicking your clit every so often.  The pulsations of his pace threaten your sanity as you try to sit up, crawling backwards slightly, but M’Baku’s arms wrap around your hips to keep you in place.  

He seems to punish you for you resistance, focusing now solely on your clit, sending you into a tizzy.  Sounds like a Campbell’s chicken noodle soup commercial under the covers with all the slurping and lip smacking he shamelessly devotes to taste every drop of you.  You’re blubbering his name, peppering encouragements with begs for mercy as you feel your orgasm wash over your body.  All of the stimulation happening underneath the blanket elevated your pleasure sensors as you couldn’t see the source.  You had to see him or you would for sure lose your mind.  Pulling the blanket back, you see his cheeks hollowing out, maintaining pressure on your clit, eyes deviously trained on yours as he penetrated you with a couple of his fingers.  

This is much worse for you now, but at least you can take it out on him instead of the blanket.

“God, I’m cumming on your face right fucking now, Baku.”   You squeal, fingers gripping his hair as your hip flexors strain to hold back from crushing his skull .

He turns you lose of his mouth finally, crawling up to you to tongue your down, tasting yourself along with him.

“It seems our native tongues were pretty well together.”  M’Baku growls, pulling you down by your legs and he pulls his joggers off, dick unfurling full and ready.  “Have I convinced you yet?”

You claw above your head for something, anything to hold onto.  “You’re getting there.  It’s just, my gut is telling me something else.”

“I can fix that…” M’Baku licks his lips, reaching to take your shirt off over your head, squeezing you titties like fresh picked fruit.  You both groan from the touch, his eyes entranced by your nipples as they draw him in, working his neck to lap his tongue around your areola until its peak is reached.   

You lick your lips, biting them as reach down between the two of you for his dick, stroking it slowly.  You feel him expand in your hand as his moans concentrate on your nipple as he continues to suck, vibrating against your sensitivity.

He comes off of your breast with a pop, smiling devilishly.  “What are you doing?  I’m supposed to be pleasing you tonight, my love.”

“This pleases me, Baku.  This does.”  You whisper as you continue to ready him. 

M’Baku smiles into your mouth, kissing you as you wrap your arms around his neck, laying back as you wrap your legs around him, walls contracting excitedly awaiting his entry.

M’Baku maintains eye contact as you feel his tip pressing into you before the sensation of stretching you makes you break; closing your eyes and mouth falling wide as his girth slowly navigates your canal.

M’Baku mirrors you as your tightness affects him as well, wrapping his hand around your neck lightly before tonguing your tonsils out hungrily.  His hips activate against yours moving in shallow motions to prepare you before taking his strokes longer and longer until his entire length massages your insides beautifully.  

“Fuck, you feel good.”  M’Baku groans as he punches the headboard once for good measure, laying his body flush with your, kissing your neck and clavicle as his strokes picked up pace.  

You gasp as if you’re drowning, clutching onto his arm, kissing his tattoo band gratefully.  “Ohh, my gut is telling me something much different now.”

“What’s it telling you?”  M’Baku grunts in your ear.

“It’s telling me to marry the man attached to this dick.”  You say before your voice hitches from the wave of pleasure flooding over you, seizing your body up.  The sweet cacophony of his skin slapping against yours signals M’Baku’s enjoyment of you in this moment, trapped between your legs as stare into each other’s eyes threateningly.  He pulls out of you, rolling you over to give your ass a slap.

“You need to be on your knees then.”  M’Baku commands.  

You try your best to do as you are told, aftershocks between your legs threaten their stability as you get into position, rubbing yourself lightly as you lie in wait.  Your head is against the mattress as you watch him stroke himself as he plants his hand on your lower back, kissing your cheeks audibly, smacking them both after.

“I don’t think I have convinced you properly of my devotion, love.”  M’Baku says, rubbing the tip of his dick between your swollen labia.

You inhale sharply.  “I’m past that, don’t worry about that baby.  Just please-”

“Don’t interrupt me.  You talk a lot but not when it counts.  I want to hear you when I am inside you.”

You push yourself towards him, trying to geolocate the dick.  “Ok, I will, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”  M’Baku says, spreading your knees father apart before sliding back into you, causing you to illicit a guttural moan.  

“You fill me up so good, Baku.”  You inhale sharply as he works himself inside you roughly.  He bounces his hips against your cheeks with slow deliberate strokes.  Bam, bam, bam!  The force pulls you back on his dick with each thrust, eventually leading you to bounce against him on your own.

“Ah, that’s better.  Come to me like you came over here to tell me off.”  M’Baku says, rubbing your ass.

Biting your lip, you pick up your bounce, arching.  “I don’t play when it comes to this dick, Baku.  Don’t make me wreck you.”

M’Baku smacks one cheek enthusiastically, the sting somehow sweetens your pleasure.  “Show me.”

You give it your all, smacking your ass against his hips, tightening around him as you wind around his length expertly.  Although you had him right where you wanted him, moaning and cursing you, you get high off of your own supply.  The pressure building within you begins to release and you lose your form, holding your breath as you came.

M’Baku would not have that.  He leans over you, holding your head up by your hair.  “I want to hear you…”

He takes over, pounding into you while reaches between you to stimulate your bud.  You squeak, gripping the sheets as he commands you to breathe.  You swear this is impossible as he won’t stop digging you out and stressing your scalp with his grasp.  Then you aren’t sure if this orgasm was really long or another one came quickly but as you opened your throat, you let out an animalistic screech that scared the shit outta you but rocked M’Baku’s world.  He practically pounds you through the mattress to the floor as you both collapse, humping you into submission as he gets his last few strokes in you.  He warms your belly from inside with his release.

M’Baku gets off of you so you can breathe, kissing down your back and examining the mess you all made inside of you.  You jerk feeling him touch you, wiping the remnants down before slowly rolling off to the side of you.  He takes your hand kissing your ring again before looking at you lovingly.

You lay there, twitching every few seconds as you come down.

“Are you cold?”  M’Baku asks, getting up slowly to grab the previously discard blanket.

“No, of course not.  I’m just recuperating.”  You say between the natural jerks of your muscles, your heart still pounding between your legs.

“Any chance of Daniella coming back?  Her accent wasn’t so bad now that I think about it.”  He says, kissing your hand again.

You pick it up, laying it across his face for what was supposed to be a slap.  “Shut up, I’m still frickin embarrassed by that.  You owe me dinner though.”

M’Baku smiles, rolling on his side towards you.  “I do.  I shouldn’t be the only one eating tonight.  Plus, I can’t risk you incinerating my things.”

You lay there in silence, closing your eyes.

“Were you...really going to do that?”

You start to snore.

“(Y/N), honestly.”