#like it’s not black and white but the actions that are currently happening are not acceptable | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luminiamore · 1 day

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plug connie springer x black stripper reader

warnings: boy is down bad, a little bit of mikasa x reader??, mikasa is famous heree, connie is a tease, he’s also hispanic asf, ya’ll didn’t even make it to the club, hints of yandere, mirror action, he fucks u while he’s crossfaded, wall sex, he talks a lot, dude is rambling, good ole cream pie, gotta love breeding

a/n: i got carried away (⌒_⌒;)

can you guys tell i like my men desperate lol, this is so long i might make this a series (4.9k words)

one down, like five more to goooo

The lifestyle of stripping was something you truly couldn’t get enough of. The late nights. The smooth poles. Dancing on those smooth poles. And most importantly, the money. Oh fuck, how you loved the money. Living the fast life gave you such a rush that you adored it just as much as you hated it.

It’s not your first choice, not by a long shot. You were raised in Jamaica, New York. And your parents., you loved them. Honestly, you did, but you would probably be the most miserable person in the world if you kept heeding their strict Christian views.

You tried everything to reach up to their impossibly high standards. They wanted you to get an A in every assignment? Try A+. They wanted you to wear less revealing clothes because ‘No man will ever want you’? You’re showing up to your classes in turtlenecks just to keep their mouths shut.

You even made it a routine to clean the entire house top to bottom on Sundays since they started complaining that ‘You never do anything around this house.’ It was beyond annoying. You were fucking tired.

Growing up in Notre Dame School of Manhattan was nothing short of horrible. Proclaimed ‘good girls’ snorting more than half a line of coke in the school bathrooms. Drugs you aren’t even sure how they got access to, but then again, they are rich white kids. Teachers and hypocritical professors pretend to be oblivious to the bullshit drama their students are in. Your parents’ oblivion for keeping you here is even greater. Even after sharing stories with them, they would advise you to be more like the students at your school.

It was a miracle you didn’t turn out that far gone, despite what your profession is currently. You’ve smoked a little weed here and there. Experience some sort of awakening tripping off shrooms the weekend your parents took a trip to Barbados.

Without you, of course. Despite this, you were always taken care of. Your differences in opinion would never justify their abandonment of you. You knew they loved you when they got you a ticket to see The Weeknd live after you got a perfect score on your final, not after telling you their opinions on the matter, of course.

‘I don’t know why you listen to such devil music.’

‘I should’ve never gotten you this trash.’

The guilt you felt for wanting to have fun kept you from almost going. You went anyway, choosing to avoid allowing their misery to affect you.

Everything was fine; you played along with this draining game, and everything was fine. Until they decided to kick you out for finding a small baggie of blow (that wasn’t even yours) peeking out from the top of your purse. You don’t even know how it got there.

Honestly, you didn’t. You tried to communicate that while they were packing all the clothes they could find in your closet into two medium-sized luggage bags. But they wouldn’t listen, opting for screaming so loud you could see the neighbors peeking through the window. At the very least, they were kind enough not to throw them onto the concrete ground. Their stubbornness was unyielding. You just couldn’t get through to them.

You were able to rent an apartment you had put a deposit on a month before this happened because of the money in your savings account. Unfortunately, your funds were only sufficient for rent for two months due to groceries and other necessities.

When graduation came, your parents were nowhere to be found, so you realized that you had to find a means of earning money before you ended up sleeping on the streets.

You tried looking for a ’regular’ job -- a barista, a waitress, even applied to be a fucking bartender. It’s not as easy as it seems when those who already have one talk about finding a job. Why do they claim that they need to hire immediately and yet still reject you? Considering that your lack of work experience prevents you from being hired, you feign a little on your resume. Turns out, you’re not a very good liar.

Where was pretty privilege when you needed it?!

Despite applying to 500 companies, none could offer you a job within the next two weeks, which happened to be when your rent was due.

You really had no other option. You took your pretty ass and marched to the nearest club. Which happened to be the... Hustlers club? Why did that sound familiar?

Upon entering, you outright demanded to speak with the person in charge, and when you saw him, he demanded that he offer you a job. Lucky for you, the owner happened to be there that day. He observed the little moment you had when you stormed in..well, he observed the way your tits bounced in your low-cut tee and immediately pulled you into his office.

He had the thought that you would make him a lot of money if you worked for him, and he’s sure his business partner would agree if she saw you. He just had to make sure.

A figure appeared in the corner, striking up from the edge of his desk and making a slight sniffling noise. A girl, a beautiful one with distinct Asian features. Her leather skirt was short, only barely covering past 2 inches of her thigh. Her tits were pushed up to a necklace in a black corset-like top. An ornamental gold necklace.. with the letter M.

Wait. Is that-

That’s where it dawned on you why the name of this club sounded so familiar. On a random Tuesday afternoon, you find yourself standing in front of a celebrity. You were standing in front of Mikasa Ackerman. The Mikasa Ackerman. As in, owner of Mirror Palais, the highest-paid model in Japan, co-owner of one of the best clubs in New York, Mikasa Ackerman. Oh shit.

You remember seeing her on an Instagram reel in front of this very club, along with the other owner. The other owner, his name was.. what was it again? He swivels you around to face him, almost as if he hears your thoughts,

“Eren Yeager, sweetheart.”

A soft handshake accompanied by a gentle tone. He was quick to introduce you to the beautiful eyes that stayed fixed on your face since you walked into the dimly lit room. Eren guides you towards the brown leather couch where his friend is sitting,

“And, this is the lovely Mikasa. I’m sure you sure you know who she is.”

Feeling intimidated by her intense gaze, you nodded quickly and stumbled a bit when introducing yourself. Her following words didn’t calm your nerves anyhow,

“A real pleasure meeting you, beautiful.”

Eren could tell that Mikasa already liked you; the girl was practically fucking you with her eyes. But he wasn’t here for that; he cleared his throat to draw attention to him in the room. He had a goal in mind: to get you signed up. Eren wanted you dancing in his club today.

He sits you down and swiftly gets into business mode.

‘What kind of position are you looking for?’

‘What’s the minimum salary you want to earn here?’

He tries to get a sense of what you’re looking for before proposing to work as a stripper. Although he wants you to, he can compromise. Server position and the minimum salary you asked for was $65,000.

“And I’m not leaving til I get that or something better.”

Well, you wanted better, right? Eren explains to you that his club didn’t have any more waitress positions and Mikasa...

Well, that day, you found out that she was really good with words. She did a great job at convincing you that you’d make double the amount you asked for moving your perfect body on the pole. I mean...

“Look at that body of yours. You’d be pretty famous here, sweetheart.”

And shit, she was right. You really couldn’t blame the girls who never wanted to leave, simply too addicted to the drugs, to the fast life, especially to the money. The amount of money you made every night was simply insurmountable. And you found it funny because it wasn’t just the money. Really, it wasn’t.

The sensation that occurs when your lower body rotates on the pole. The art of dancing like this ignited such a passion from you. The attention, from the men and the women. One of the most popular clubs in the city had you as a crowd favorite. You knew it shouldn’t be something you liked; you never wanted to get too wrapped up in a life like this. But shit, it was sensational.

You didn’t let it slip, even though you shined on the stage. There are people who would take advantage of you even more if they knew you actually enjoyed what you do; you know this. When it was time to go, you left with no hesitation. You had to remind yourself of what you were here for, to provide and care for yourself until you find a better job.

And you stuck to that goal for a solid five months; nothing deterred you. Of course, that’s what you’re thinking. In reality, from the very first moment Eren had you on that pole, you found yourself coming back for one reason. Even if you weren’t subconsciously aware of it, him.

Connie, you heard the owner greet one day. He was definitely attractive. There was something about him, something about how he threw money at you and only you. Your body shivered without fail due to the gray eyes that watched your every move. The way he man spreads and tilts his head back when taking a hit, revealing neck tattoos that you know cover his stomach under that black Nike Tech hoodie. He was so fucking fine.

Only a few men can pull off a buzz cut. How does he do it so effortlessly? Maybe it was the color? How would he change it like it was nothing every two weeks?

You noticed he had a thin mustache, and when you got closer to his face.. Fuck. Was that a diamond nose ring?

He was a drug dealer. You caught that three months ago. Around that point, he began asking for you to exclusively serve his section. Eren had no problem with that; after all, this was his friend. But Connie started getting.. greedy. He wanted more than that. He started getting bold. He wanted your body on that twirling solely for him.

“Hell no.”

Eren filled the quiet section. Your body was followed by both green and gray eyes as you moved on the stage, with Connie’s eyes being more intense and focused compared to the other. The thriving club was filled with both of them enjoying a glass of Richard Hennessy Cognac in the VIP area.

Connie never had a good relationship with mixing Henny and weed. He was aware of that. He has a tendency to indulge in sinful thoughts. He didn’t let that stop him from rolling the blunt anyway.

His mind would get drawn towards dangerous places, mainly when he saw you. The way your thong disappeared between your cheeks under your lacey two-piece made him ready to fuck you right there. To show those perverted and prickly eyes that stuck like glue onto you that they could never have you. That you were his. Or, you will be.

Connie hasn’t even fucked you yet. Hasn’t gone anywhere near the sticky wetness he knows you have in between your legs.

You two indulge in what you could only describe as subtle grinding in the back rooms. All the dancing that you’re supposed to be doing on the pole, you’re doing on his lap instead. It was against the rules; you especially knew this. That didn’t stop either of you. Well, more so Connie than you.

At first, his best friend was against it. The customers you brought in were earning him at least $100k a night. While his other show girls were beautiful, you radiated a different type of aura onto the stage. You were something different. It was genuinely insane how you could move, you didn’t even have prior training. You found that every night, you got better than the previous; it was a natural talent.

Connie, being Connie, offered Eren twice that amount for every night he gets to spend with you alone. That was every night you were on the clock, besides, he had no problem making that back by the next day. When it came to his girl, there was never a problem for him.

And Connie never regretted the amount he spent on you. Being alone with you was something he had grown to crave incessantly. To him? It was worth it. He’d get so excited to just walk into the back room and find you waiting for him. All pretty, just tempting him to ruin you. Then, when you start performing in front of him, your body moves in a way that would hypnotize the stoic man.

And it wasn’t just your body to Connie. There was a certain allure to you. He was observant of the way you moved, spoke, and behaved. He understood that someone like you doesn’t come by every day. He just had to have you, own you. Your body, your fucking soul, everything you possessed, he wanted it for himself. He didn’t care if it sounded selfish; he’s okay with being that when it comes to you.

It’s reasonable to assume that he would have the final say on what you wear for him since he was the only person you would dance for, right? That was the route he took to get your number. That’s the reason you got a text from him while you were getting ready to shower for your night shift.

One of his friends- Was he talking about Mikasa?

You could have given it more thought, but your shift was only an hour away, and Connie was on his way. Using a small gray towel, you drape it onto the fat of your wet boobs. Your hands lather your Shea Butter oil on the top of your left thigh quickly, but you stop when your doorbell rings.

“Coming!”

You yelp, quickly slip on your slippers, and move toward the door. The man had always taken you home, and on the other side of the coin, he always took you to work. You didn’t bother asking how he knew your address the first time, afraid that it would spark an answer you’re not ready to hear. Occasionally, if you were too intoxicated to carry yourself to your apartment, he would act as your knight in shining armor and hold you in bridal fashion to your door without saying a word.

It should have been simple enough: he goes in and gets out. And it would have been that simple if he hadn’t seen your pink lacy thong loosely hanging off your door knob. He was simply a man, one who desired to feel every part of you. The tip of that thong was hanging out of his pockets when Connie left your apartment that night.

Swinging your door open makes you almost breathless. Connie was a tall person. Everything about him just screamed: big. He was easily over 6 feet 2 inches tall, and he came to your door carrying a medium-sized shopping bag. You step back, observing as he comes in right after taking his slides off by your door.

“You’re here early, Con. I’m not ready yet.” You whisper, still a little perplexed he’s already here. Despite the amount of money you know he has, you rarely ever see him in anything other than a white tee and black sweats. Today was no different. Minor differences in each pair made it clear that they were different every time. You suppose it had something to do with his dangerous line of work.

He hands you the cream-colored bag, and his eyes never leave your lips all the while. You suddenly became very conscious that you were breathing the same air as Connie, who appeared right in front of you. He leans in, the ghost of his lips felt against your collarbone,

“You smell good,” His tatted hands sneakily climbed their way onto your wide hips. Before muttering a curse under his breath, he squeezes once. For the first time since meeting you, Connie isn’t being truthful. He didn’t come to your apartment to take you to your job. Tonight, he had different intentions.

He came tonight to put a full stop to the cat-and-mouse game that you guys have been playing for the past five months. Two fully packed blunts and three shots of Don Julio convinced him that his attraction towards you was not going away.

He should’ve realized it when he started making a habit of watching over you outside of the strip club. She needs someone to protect her, he thinks. You don’t pay attention to your surroundings. You have no idea, don’t you? Your beauty could easily lead to someone from the club becoming obsessed and following you. Anyone who wasn’t him.

He also should’ve realized it when he started beating his dick into overstimulation to your pictures on Instagram. And after your shift. Of course, before your shift. Eren witnessed him having to excuse himself during your shift because his dick was painfully throbbing against his boxers.

Connie really liked you. And somewhere in that twisted mind of his, he believed that you two were truly meant for each other. He should’ve never waited this long, “Put this on, ma.”

He pushes the bag towards your chest and moves your hips in the direction of your room. Your thighs twitch as you hum and make a little run to the end of your hall. He follows after you slowly, eyes shifting to the way your ass peaks out from under the towel.

This scene feels oddly familiar. A predator stalking its prey, just waiting for the right moment to pounce. You didn’t know what Connie came here to do; in your mind, you were just getting ready for work. He almost felt sorry for you, almost felt sorry for how he was going to ruin you, almost.

He made sure to take his time approaching your door so that you could be ready and prepared for him when he arrived. And you didn’t disappoint. In front of your vanity makeup mirror, you were sat on the cushion chair. Applying what looked like oil from a flower bottle onto your neck.

You look better in the dress than he expected. Your fat tits sitting so perfectly, and the lace meshing with your skin. You pretended to ignore him behind your seat, starting to feel the weight of his presence around you. This was probably the thinnest item you had ever owned, yet his hands pressing on your shoulders made your skin feel like it was on hot volcanic soil.

You catch his eye in the mirror, and despite your flustered state, he doesn’t grant you the satisfaction of looking away. Not even while his hands lower down to your rib cage, right under your plush boobs. Especially not even while his giant palms wrap around the fabric covering your nipple in a tight grip.

You gasp, a moan bottling in your throat, “C-Con!”

It could have been the way you uttered his name or the way your head pressed against his chest. Regardless, Connie lost control and dropped his head into the crook of your neck, beginning to sprinkle small, wet kisses. He grips harder, and you... you get louder.

“You drive me fucking insane,” Your flesh is now exposed to his hands as they slip into the dress. “Skin so soft,” He kneads his hands into your chest, squeezing as if he’s hoping milk will pour out of them. He groans, “God, you’re so perfect mama.” The thought of that makes a shiver run down his body.

Poor Mikasa, she spent all night working on that dress once she heard it was for you. Connie didn’t even let it last for a good ten minutes before you heard a faint rip sound in the midst of your whimpers.

Your brain is struggling to keep up with the speed of everything happening. You attempt to tilt your head back, but he shuts it down right away. “Eyes on the mirror.” He moves one hand to your throat, keeping you still. You feel your body shake under his hold, twitching slightly from his small attack. You didn’t have the courage to look away, not even as far as you could.

“I’ve been so patient.” Squeezing your left nipple, he drops his fingers down the ripped material until they reach the top of your pussy lips. “Cumming to the thought of your pretty face like a fucking teenager,” His words bring a mewl to your lips. Your body starts sweating, nervous at the way his fingers are just rubbing circles around your skin.

Would he pull away if your hips jerked against his hand? You hoped against all odds that he wouldn’t. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel this desperate for anyone, but being around Connie left you like this. You were at a loss for what to do. Your thoughts were racing to find something, anything, that would bring him closer to you.

It’s unclear what motivated him to answer your prayers. But in the next moment, he pushed his middle finger into the center of where your slick was overflowing onto the cushion. He creates slight tap sounds with the puddle between your fat lips, playing with you.

Your eyes close for just a second and burst wide open when you feel a sudden intrusion in your sticky hole. “A-Ah!” A sob leaves your lips, your eyes falling back to your face in the mirror when you register his next words,

“Eyes on the mirror, mama. I haven’t done anything to you yet,” As Connie slowly moves his fingers into and out of your dripping core, his eyes struggle to keep track of your face in the mirror or the stain you’re beginning to make on his digits.

He settles with the stain you’re creating. He’s massaging your walls in a way that you can’t help but cover them in a creamy white. It’s impossible not to moan with shaky breaths, whispering his name. He figures the wait was worth it. His dreams couldn’t have prepared him for the real thing. It was more noisy, was more sticky, and it was.. real.

What do you taste like?

Your hips shake as he suddenly removes his fingers from you. You whimper, annoyed by the absence of the touch of fingers on your wet walls, but you stop yourself when you see his movements in the mirror. His mouth wraps around his middle and ring finger, sucking your juices to the fullest. Your breathing stops when he moans, “You taste so fucking good.”

Connie silently pulls you up from your seat and presses you against the nearest wall, causing the ripped dress to fall to the floor. Instantly, your back arched into the prominent bulge that was pressing on your bare ass. Your thoughts wander back to your last session with Connie in the backroom. All that desperate grinding.

“You were squeezing so tight around my fingers,” He pushes his sweat down to remove his throbbing hard dick with a little effort. “Y’gonna squeeze my dick like that next?”

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

You jump every time the base of his cock slaps down on your ass. Both of his hands grip your sides, his eyes rolling back as he slides his dick back and forth in between your leaking pussy lips.

“Oh f-fuck! Connie,”

Your voice cracks when you call out for him, and he smiles. He cannot deny that this is the perfect thing; it was always meant to be like this. He spreads your cheeks as wide as he can, lining his tip up to your hole that’s clenching around nothing.

“Yeah, b-baby?” Fuck, you were so wet. “Want me to fuck you? Want- Oh fuck. Want Connie to make you scream?”

Your lips tremble, and you try to slide his dick inside you by pushing your hips back. He lets you, too weak himself, to stop you from taking what you wanted. All you can think right now is Connie, Connie, fucking Connie.

“Shittt. Want y-y’to to make me cum! P-please!”

Pushing him even further inside without his help proves to him that you truly want him to make you scream. You’re barely making it halfway with his thick and long build. Connie is incredibly proud of you right now, taking his dick like a desperate bitch and moaning to fuck the rest of his inches in.

He pulls a little of himself out of you, only to flush his hips abruptly against yours with one single push. Groaning at the same time you gasp out, he whispers in your ear, “Scream for daddy, mama.”

You were so full. His cock tip was touching places that you’ve never been to on your own before, causing your mind to go haywire. His pressure against your cervix was so intense it would have been painful if you weren’t so wet. You oblige almost embarrassingly quickly the moment you feel his dick drag at a steady pace inside of you.

Connie regrets not having done this sooner, as the drugs he took earlier are still mixing in his system, alternating and speeding up his thoughts. His body was ablaze. You’re covering the entire length of his dick with your juices, causing him to become frantic and desperate to get more out of you. His thrusts match his crave. You were warm, and your cries were heaven to his ears, “Big! Y’re so b-big, daddy!”

You’re not complaining, far from it, as he tears your pussy to shreds. In fact, you’re taking him so well, and he praises you for it. Like he said, you were made for this moment, for him. You’re such a,

“Good girl. Fuck! My g-good girl takes me so well,”

He can hear your slick drip on the floor below you despite the smacking sound in your room. You’re so needy for him, as he is for you. The walls echoed with your wailing sounds as you fucked him back, making Connie shudder.

He’s gonna cum. He can feel his balls churning as they slap repeatedly against your twitching clit. Fuck. He’s gonna cum so deep inside you he prays it reaches your womb. Although it’s his first time exploring the depths of your perfect cunt, he recognizes that you’re also going to cum.

He can tell by the way your legs are shaking rapidly, by the way, your moans get higher in pitch, by the way, you’re whispering his name out like a prayer. And he’s determined to make you cum before him. Do you squirt? Do you cream? He thinks he’ll die and go to heaven if it’s both. Your next plea erupts another groan to tumble out his mouth,

“M’gonna- M’gonna cum! O-oh fuck- M’gonna cum so h-hard.”

Holding your arms behind your back with his tatted hand, he moves his hips inside you at a faster pace than ever before. “Shit. Me t-too, mama.” He angles his waist to keep pressing into that spongy spot that makes you tremble. “Just like that. Cum, baby. C-cum all over this fat dick.”

Small tears start to fall down your brown cheeks, and your back arches sharply on Connie, causing your stomach to clench at once. The man above you receives both your cream and squirt splashing from your sweet core, and you weep. Your muffled moans fill the air as he cranes your neck towards him for a nasty, drooling kiss.

As he gets closer to his orgasm, his rapid thrusts become sloppy and crazed, and his heart beats twice as fast as he sees the beauty fucked out underneath him. The more Connie moved inside of you, the more he swayed. Your essence was covering his lower half so much that he couldn’t wait another minute before dumping his kids against your cervix, a shaky moan accompanying his release.

His thrusts slow down, causing tiny drops to spill onto the floor, but his lips never leave yours, and he has to remind himself to let you breathe when you start to whine against his mouth. He lets you go and instead presses tiny kisses against your panting mouth.

Both of you, Connie in particular, were on cloud nine. Your clenching onto him brings Connie’s mind back to Earth, but he is not satisfied. He wanted to go again. He needed it, so it was only natural he started moving at a steadfast pace inside you again.

“Again. Let’s go a-again, mama. Shitt. Your pussy is so-”

Before that night, you’ve never experienced pleasure on this level. Connie took you, on every corner of the house. Both of you left unaware of Eren’s multiple missed calls as he fucked his cum into you like a dog in heat. It’s safe to say that you didn’t show up for work that night or the night after. Connie made sure you never danced at a strip club again.

@hatake05 @thickbihhwitdagapp 🫶🏾

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kingofmyborrowedheart · 6 months

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I’m sorry but you can’t cry “human rights violation!!!!” when you are actively carrying out a campaign of genocide.

#sorry but it doesn’t work like that!#you can’t decry humans rights violations of a group that doesn’t even represent a majority of innocent people (by the way)…#…if you are actively carrying out a genocide under the thinly veiled guise of going after that group #Genocide which is y’know one of the greatest violations of human rights since it seeks to completely eradicate one group of people.#like there are innocent people being caught in the crosshairs on both sides #not everyone living in Israel or who is Jewish supports the Israel government’s bombings of Gaza #not every Palestinian supports Hamas or condones their brutal attacks on innocent civilians #but to try and conflate the actions of a militant group to represent the thinking of all of the citizens and be an excuse to destroy them…#…isn’t right and deserves to be held accountable #also stop acting like there is not a massive power imbalance present #Israel has the Iron Dome and their own military forces and funding from the U.S.#Hamas has missels and stock piled resources from funding from Iran #Israel controls the food water fuel and medicine access to those that have been forced to live in Gaza #they are not in any way shape or form on equal footing which doesn’t make this a ‘war’#I can’t wrap my head around the fact that one of the groups persecuted in one of the most horrifying genocides is currently conducting…#…a genocide on another group of people #the rhetoric of gov’t officials from Israel dehumanizing innocent civilians points to the fact that this isn’t about retribution #but to conduct a genocide #if you don’t think that the current actions of the Israeli government aren’t wrong and are supporting it you can unfollow and block me!#like it’s not black and white but the actions that are currently happening are not acceptable

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fiendishfables · 2 months

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Can I please request dom! Lucifer eating you out? I just know that man is very talented with his tongue

a/n: say less, really; short and sweet lovin' from Luci

warnings: nsfw, eating out, cursing, dom dom Luci

words: 676

additional notes: Thank you all so much for 110+ followers! It means the world to me that you guys enjoy my writing so much!

"Luxury of the King."

Dom! Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

The white, silk sheets beneath you rustled softly. Gentle puffs of air left your lips, saliva coating their plush surface in a light layer. The familiar black dots began aligning along the edges of your vision. Chest rising and falling with erratic patterns; a light sheen of sweat adorning your brow, seeping lightly into your hairline. You felt and looked like the epitome of an absolute wreck.

And it was all because of the man who's head was currently buried between your legs.

Despite your clear state of overstimulation, he was a relentless predator. Well, his forked tongue, rather. It worked against and inside you, like you would be the last thing it ever got to taste. Flicking against you, tasting all of the sweet nectar you had to provide for him. He was determined to eat you dry.

"I-I'm sorry, darling. You just taste s-so...fuck...so damn good."

His mouth continued its assault against you, making sure to take his time and devour you all in the same set of actions.

If he could just stay in between your legs all hours of the day, oh how he could die a happy man. No worries or strife, just you splayed out for him, presenting yourself as a canvas for his tongue to travel. He gulped at the thought.

You truly were the best luxury a king like himself could have.

Lucifer knew he didn't deserve you. He always asked himself how he got so damn lucky with happening upon you, but he never got too curious upon questioning, nor greedy when it came to your services. This was enough to take him all the way to Heaven and back. What more could he possibly ask for, other than your lovely company?

He noticed how your hips were now beginning to move more, as if trying to get away from his relentless tongue. Just the thought of your sweet taste being abandoned from his warm, forked muscle made his pupils slit and eyes narrow. In response, he placed a gentle yet authoritative hand on your lower tummy, pushing your trembling hips downwards to the mattress; that's where they were to stay until he was done with you. You were a gift from Heaven he was sure, and Hell be damned if he didn't savor it. Just thinking that seemed like madness. Lucifer wanted to taste everything you had to offer him. Every. Single. Thing.

"Stay still. Don't you dare try to move away from me." He growled, voice dropping much lower than its normal octave, causing you to flinch in surprise. His head had come up and out from between your legs, almost enticing a whine from your throat at the loss of stimulation, yet a sigh of relief at the same time for the smidgen of a break you were currently being blessed with.

The sudden change in his attitude was a bit of a surprise, but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't hot as hell. The puppy dog side of your boyfriend was what you were most used to, so seeing him act this way instead was a very nice change of pace. You could never be scared of him; your safe word was always at your disposal if you felt he was being too demanding or rough, and he knew it too. So unless you used it, he would continue with his advances.

You looked at him through half-lidded eyes and offered the best nod you could manage with the state you were in, letting your head fall back to its original position on the fluffed pillows, lungs grasping for any sort of air they could muster up.

He gave a low nod back, a sly smile gracing his lips as he licked around them in order to clear off the remnants of your juices that he had yet a chance to devour like the other servings he managed to obtain.

"Good..." He said with a pointy smirk, before lowering his head once again to get right back to work.

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sansaorgana · 7 days

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— STILL PURE

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — Feyd yells at his daughter for interrupting him at work. His wife confronts him about his behaviour as she tries to explain to the little Countess that her father was never taught how to express love.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Feyd is already the Baron in this fic but I assumed women cannot inherit on Giedi Prime so the daughter is "only" a Countess while her younger brother is a Na-Baron. I used my headcanon that if half-Harkonnen children have hair, then they're white because they lack pigment. I also wanted her to have big black Harkonnen eyes so badly... Basically, I wanted Feyd's daughter to look like this:

WORD COUNT — 2,990

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL PURE

Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was circling around the big table in the conference room where the huge orb of Giedi Prime had been replaced with Arrakis’ one as one of his advisors was explaining the difficult situation regarding the spice production. The new wave of Fremen rebels who worshipped the long gone and deceased Muad’Dib decided to continue their idol’s legacy as they sabotaged the spice production controlled by The Harkonnen forces. The Governor of Arrakis was slowly losing control over the situation and Feyd would rather avoid going there himself. He was needed on Giedi Prime – especially now when The Emperor was on his deathbed. He had to be around in case something important would happen and everyone knew The Baron had his eyes set on the Imperial Throne. Feyd had to choose a new Governor of Arrakis or provide the current one with good advice, hoping for the Fremen problem to disappear soon. It was worrying him because it was giving him a bad reputation at the moment for having problems on Arrakis – it could make some leaders of the great houses to think he was not worthy enough to become the next Emperor.

Feyd’s hands were clasped behind his back as he circled like a shark and all his advisors looked down, taking a step back whenever he approached them. They knew his temper would only rise when he was angered whenever he would experience problems of such nature when it came to reigning over The Harkonnen properties.

“What does the Fremen leader say? Stilgar? That was his name?” Feyd barked at one of the scared advisors.

“Stilgar says he has no control over the cultists. He does not support their actions. He wants nothing but peace, my Lord,” the man bowed his head.

“How bad is it? The most important thing so far is to keep the problem on Arrakis a secret,” Feyd hummed to himself.

“Five percent of the decrease in the spice production income,” the other advisor answered. “Not bad, but can be noticeable in the amount we export.”

“We shall export some of our own private reserves to cover the loss. In the meantime, we have to deal with the cultists,” Feyd decided, already annoyed at the fact he had to sacrifice his own supplies just to cover up the careless governing of Arrakis which was not his fault. “Send more troops there, the operation should be classified confidential. Threaten Lord Volonov to take care of it. He’s got a month before I replace him with someone more capable…”

Quiet pat pat pat sound coming from the corridor was becoming louder and louder until the black doors finally opened slightly and the guard standing by them spotted a pair of two big black eyes staring up at him.

“My Lord,” he tried to catch The Baron’s attention but Feyd had his back turned on him as he angrily explained the details of the operation to his advisors.

Little Countess Sevina Harkonnen gave the guard puppy eyes as she struggled with the heavy doors. She wanted to come inside and he didn’t know what to do. He was aware that his Lord Baron did not want to be interrupted but he didn’t want to close the door in the girl’s face either. He peeked outside but there was no servant around and The Baroness was not there either. He decided it would be better for the girl to come inside instead of letting her roam around the fortress alone.

She smiled widely at him and jumped inside the room happily as her white hair bounced. She was lucky enough to inherit most of her mother’s looks although her skin was paler, her hair lacked pigment and her pupils were nothing but two completely big black orbs – those were the eyes even her father did not have but they were a result of the pollution her mother’s body had been exposed to on Giedi Prime at the time of her pregnancy.

Not realising how tense the atmosphere in the room was, she approached her father as all the advisors and servants were making wide eyes at her. She stood behind The Baron and pulled on his shirt to make him turn around.

At first, he flinched at the odd feeling of someone pulling him. Who would dare to do that? He turned around quickly with an angry expression on his face but then he looked down and spotted his little daughter. She startled a bit at the sight of his annoyance but she kept staring at him with her big black eyes filled with love and excitement.

“What are you doing here?” Feyd barked at her.

“Can you play with me, daddy?” She pleaded with a big grin.

A few lords smirked at that and Feyd’s jaw clenched. Not only had she interrupted him but also humiliated him.

“Can’t you fucking see that I’m busy?!” He lashed out at her and she took a step back as her eyes filled with tears and betrayal. “Get out of here!” He pointed at the doors.

They opened at that very moment as the nanny entered the room and looked around, surprised at the sight of scared faces and the little Countess being in the centre of attention.

“There you are!” She opened her arms at the sight of the girl. “I’ve told you not to interrupt your father, he’s in the middle of a meeting,” she reminded nervously as the girl ran up to her and hid her face in the folds of her skirt. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the nanny bowed her head at Feyd-Rautha.

“You’re useless,” he drawled. “Get out.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” the woman held Sevina’s hand and walked out as quickly as possible.

You left the nursery where your son na-baron had just fallen asleep. On your way back to your chambers, you passed by the doors leading to your daughter’s room and you froze at the muffled sound of sobbing. Concerned, you decided to enter without knocking.

Little Sevina was crying on her bed as the scared nanny tried to calm her down by rubbing her back and shushing her.

“What is going on?” You asked as the doors closed behind you.

“M-my Lady Baroness,” the nanny stood up and straightened herself to bow down slightly.

“What happened? Why is she crying?” You asked her in an accusing tone.

“I… I lost her out of my sight when we were playing earlier today, I’m sorry… I found the young Countess in her father’s conference room. She had interrupted The Baron during a council… I think he lashed out at her, my Lady…” the woman tried to explain nervously as her hands shook.

“You’re useless,” you sighed and she widened her eyes. “Get out, I’ll deal with that myself,” you pointed at the doors and she bowed down once again before leaving quickly.

You approached the bed and sat on the edge of it as Sevina raised her head to look at you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of her cheeks covered in tears.

“What happened, sweet darling?” You asked her gently while you caressed her back.

“Why doesn’t daddy love me?” She asked with so much pain and sincerity in her tiny, shaky voice that you nearly cried yourself.

You knew it wasn’t true. Feyd-Rautha loved his daughter. Even though he had been a bit disappointed she was not a son in the beginning – he had only said not to worry about it much; that the boy would come next. He had been treating Sevina as if she was made of glass in the first months of her life, so scared of accidentally hurting her because hurt was all he knew.

“Oh, Sevina, don’t think that…” You sighed and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Daddy loves you so much,” you assured her but of course she wasn’t convinced. “He would kill and die for you, little girl,” you added.

“I don’t want him to kill and die for me, mummy,” Sevina sobbed as those were the concepts she was too young to grasp. “I just want daddy to play with me.”

“He doesn’t know how to play, Sevina,” you fixed her ruffled hair while trying to explain calmly. “He didn’t have a mummy or daddy when he was your age. The way I kiss you or hug you and play with you… He has never had it, darling,” you felt a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You were angry at your husband for yelling at your daughter and making her feel unloved but you were also angry at all the suffering that he had gone through in his past.

There were scars and damages that could never be undone, no matter how much you loved someone.

“And you’re big enough to know that daddy shouldn’t be interrupted when he’s working. You know that he tends to get angry more easily then,” you reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted daddy to play with me,” she snuggled closer to you and you kissed the top of her head, rubbing her tiny arms with your thumbs and cradling her softly to calm her down.

Feyd had been back in your chambers already when you entered. You froze at the sight of him, irritated. However, he seemed to act as usual.

“Five percent,” he snapped at you, although not angrily. “We will have to replace the loss with our own supply so the other lords don’t realise we are expecting problems on Arrakis. That stupid son of a bitch Volonov can’t handle a few cultists and…”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you interrupted him and turned your back on him to approach your vanity table and sit by it, pretending to be more interested in reapplying the powder.

“What?” Feyd was visibly surprised as he watched you in disbelief. You had always been a support for him, especially in difficult times. You both had been plotting on how to take over the Imperial Throne and now you weren’t interested in something as important as the problems with harvesting spice on Arrakis? It didn’t make sense to him.

You ignored him and focused on brushing your hair now, watching him from the corner of your eye in the reflection of the mirror of your vanity table. He approached you, hesitantly.

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” He tilted his head as he leaned in, trying to intimidate you but you didn’t even flinch.

“I’ve just spent an hour calming down Sevina. You yelled at her,” you eventually looked up to look deep into his eyes. He took a deep breath in, irritated.

“She should have learnt by now not to interrupt me,” Feyd straightened his back and walked away. “She’s spoiled,” he added. “Knows nothing about discipline. It’s your fault.”

“She’s a little girl,” you turned around. “You can’t expect military habits from her. She’s your daughter, Feyd.”

“She’s lucky I only yelled. If I interrupted my uncle as a child like that, I’d be punished!” He raised his voice at you, frustrated that you were defending your daughter and making a problem out of something that he considered to be normal.

You hated it when he would raise his voice at you. You stood up angrily and yelled as well.

“Oh, so you think she should be raised the same way you were?!” You asked. “Alright then! Go to her room, grab her by the neck and flog her back with a whip just because she wanted to play with her father!” You pointed at the doors furiously as your eyes were burning with wrath. “Go on! I dare you.”

But Feyd didn’t even move. His jaw was clenched as he was staring at you speechlessly.

“Go. What are you waiting for?” You kept pushing him. “Go on.”

You kept looking into his eyes with so much intensity he eventually gave up and looked down, awkwardly as the guilt started to creep in. You won.

“You rejected her. She thinks you don’t love her,” your voice calmed down but it was still vicious. “And I was assuring her that you do but it felt as if I was assuring myself, too,” you added, just to hurt him. “I can’t stand to look at you, Feyd-Rautha,” you drawled and approached the doors to leave him alone but not without striking the final blow. “I can’t believe I wanted to give you children so badly,” you turned your head to look at him as he looked up, surprised at your words, “because you don’t deserve them.”

The doors opened in front of you and you walked out to go back to your daughter.

You were sitting on the black fluffy carpet in the middle of Sevina’s room. She was on your lap, with her tiny arms around your neck, cuddling you. There were toys scattered all around the floor but she wanted to take a break for the loving cuddles. She was very unusual for a half-Harkonnen and you were very aware of the fact she was making most people around feel uncomfortable.

Not only her father but everyone in the fortress were stiff around sweet little Sevina who was so full of life and curiosity, always wanting to hug everyone – even servants and guards. Wherever she went, there was a sound of laughter and a sudden feeling of warmth. Countess Sevina Harkonnen was the very first little girl living in that fortress in a long time and she was so different from all its inhabitants. She was too young to know that she was a daughter of Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen – a man feared all over the Empire. That her bloodline was cursed with death and violence. She was still pure and innocent. Perhaps she was a living proof that The Harkonnens were not born this way after all – but they were made in the endless cycle of abusive upbringing. You did not want the same fate for her. You knew she would have to get rougher with time but you hoped she would still remain gentle, too.

The doors to her room opened and you looked up. At the sight of your husband, you protectively put your arm around your little girl. You doubted that he wanted to do what you had angrily suggested before but you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t anyway. Sevina stiffened at the sight of her father and clung to you. It brought you pain to realise that at that very moment she was afraid of him.

“Sevina, we have to talk,” Feyd stood above you two as he started in a serious tone. You gave him a scolding look and your little girl hid her face in the crook of your neck, hiding. “You know perfectly well not to interrupt me while I’m working.”

Long silence occurred. You could see Feyd’s struggle as he had no idea what to do to fix this situation between him and his daughter.

“Sevina, apologise to daddy,” you looked down and she looked up with tears in her big black eyes. “You shouldn’t have interrupted him and you know that, darling,” your voice was soft and calm and she sniffed.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Sevina turned her body around to face him but she refused to look at him.

“Now, you apologise to Sevina for being mean,” you looked up at your husband and you spotted panic in his eyes. “Now,” you insisted sternly.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” Feyd crouched down to be on her level. She hesitantly looked at him. “Can I get a hug, too?” He asked and his voice broke a tiny bit.

Slitting someone’s throat open was less awkward and unusual to him than to ask for a hug. Your heart ached for him but you were an adult capable of understanding his patterns. Sevina was not.

Her heart was big, though, and she loved her father, so she would forgive him everything. She nodded her head with a happy smile and ran into his arms to squeeze him tight. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight.

“I love you, darling,” Feyd whispered quietly with his cheek pressed to the top of her head. “I would kill for you. I would die for you,” he confessed.

“But she doesn’t want any of that,” you explained. “She just wants you to spend time with her.”

“Is that right?” He looked down at his little girl and she looked up with her puppy eyes as she nodded. Her tiny hands reached out to cup his face.

“I love you, daddy,” she assured him. “Can you play with me?”

“I don’t know how to play, I’m sorry,” he admitted with guilt in his voice.

“I will teach you,” she hugged him again.

Feyd put his arms around his little girl and pulled her closer. You crawled on the carpet to give him a hug, too. You could feel that he was slightly trembling, so you leaned in to place a kiss on his temple as your hand caressed his head soothingly.

“It’s not weak to show affection,” you reminded him in a whisper. “I’ve never loved you more than when you are like this.”

Feyd laid his eyes on you. They were filled with a mix of pain, guilt and relief. At the end of the day, the only approval he was seeking was yours. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“So, how do you want to play?” He asked Sevina as he caressed her white hair with admiration. She clapped her hands cheerfully.

“I want to be a Princess,” her eyes sparkled. “And you’ll be my guard.”

Feyd chuckled at that, showing off his black teeth. Sevina giggled as she had never found them scary.

“Soon enough, my darling one, you’ll be a real Princess,” he assured her.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

859 notes · View notes

moonjxsung · 7 months

Text

When the Rain Stops

Read part 2 here.

Pairing: Lee Minho x fem reader

W/c: 9.8k

Warnings: mentions of drinking, mentions of smoking, mentions of cheating, brief comment about calories, use of pet names, sex in a public establishment (no one is around), oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, squirting

Synopsis: A passing storm during a road trip forces you to seek shelter in a little dive bar on the outskirts of town, and you find yourself drawn to the bartender.

18+. Mdni!

•

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, wringing out your stringy wet hair onto the black carpet below you. You know the weather forecast predicted rain- hell, your family even warned you about it when you left their place this morning. But true to your bad luck, you severely underestimated just how much of it. Now, you’re stuck in the middle of nowhere while you wait for the storm to pass.

Okay, maybe not technically the middle of nowhere. But a shitty dive bar surrounded by nothing for miles upon miles isn’t really something to write home about. You know it could be worse- at least here you have access to unlimited alcohol and mozzarella sticks. But a quick look around tells you that’s not enough to redeem it for you.

The place is undoubtedly small, pool tables and red leather booths housing most of the space. Where there’s vacancy at the tables, the servers haven’t bothered to clean up yet, passing by stacks of dirty plates and silverware to serve guests sitting at other tables. A group of men chatter amongst themselves at one of the pool tables, and a single man is sat at the open bar.

You settle on a spot at the open bar, sitting two barstools away from the man and drying your feet on the rug below you.

“What can I get you?” A voice overhead says dryly, and you respond without looking up.

“Just a Coke, maybe? Diet, please.”

You hear the man scoff a little as he retreats, and then you finally look up, slightly offended at his reaction.

He’s walking away from the bar when you see him, only the back of his head visible from behind the counter where you’re sat.

As he disappears into the back to grab a coke, you pull your cell phone out of your bag. You wipe raindrops off the screen with the sleeve of your sweater, pushing the lock button to catch up on unread texts. There are only two, both from your parents, warning you about the rain and requesting you turn back for the night.

You shoot them back a text, assuring them you’ve found someplace safe to stay, and that you won’t be driving in this rain until the storm blows over. But the truth is, you’re rather unsure of that yourself. Your phone currently reads at 26% battery, the storm is predicted to go on for several hours, and there are seemingly no hotels nearby to stay the night. Chances are, you’re going to be here for a good while.

A veiny hand places an iced glass of your Diet Coke in front of you as you finish sending the texts, and you look up to lock eyes with the bartender.

He’s rather tall, with light brown hair that falls just above his soft round eyes, totally contradicting the sharpness in his jawline and nose bridge. The man is dressed formally in a white button-up shirt and a black tie, rolled up halfway at the sleeves, the top two buttons undone to reveal just a glimpse of his broadened chest.

“Is that it?” He asks. His stare is cold and serious, and you find yourself a little intimidated in this proximity to him.

“Yes, thank you. Do you happen to have a phone charger?”

He scoffs again.

“This isn’t a convenience store.”

“I’m aware,” you reply with narrowed eyes. “I just need to make a few calls.”

“There’s a pay phone in the back.”

It’s your turn to scoff. He’s calculated with his words, like he’s trying his best to get you to leave the bar. But you’re as stubborn as they come, and it’ll take a lot more than rude customer service to make you leave in this storm.

“Look, I’m not using a pay phone unless you’re supplying quarters. You don’t have an iPhone charger?”

He rolls his eyes.

“No, I don’t have an iPhone charger. And I’m not supplying you with anything- this isn’t a convenience store. Unless you want a vodka sprite or some chicken wings, I think we’re all done here.”

Before you can reply, he turns on his heel, making his way back to the kitchen and disappearing behind the double doors once again.

The doors swing in and out a few times before coming to a halt, and you stare through the circular window as he resumes cooking something in the kitchen.

Unpleasant- the personalities of everyone in your parents’ neighboring town, miles away from your apartment in the city. It reminds you precisely why you seldom visit these parts.

“Don’t take it personal,” a voice from beside you says. He shifts to face you from his bar stool. “He’s always like that.”

The stranger is well-dressed in a coat and slacks, his black hair styled neatly out of his face.

“Surprised he keeps any business at all with an attitude like that.”

“The locals don’t get the worst of it,” he continues. “Mostly us city-dwellers he despises.”

A small smile forms on your face. “You’re from the city too?”

“Yeah!” he replies enthusiastically. “I’m just passing through for the weekend.”

“Me too! Though I got stuck on the way back home. Doesn’t seem like we’ll be able to leave for a few hours.”

“Oh yeah,” the man says. “It’s really bad out there.”

You shift your attention to the large window at the back of the bar- the rain is still coming down in sheets over the glistening black pavement, nothing visible beyond the blurry traffic lights as the trees melt into an abyss of darkness. The roads appear empty and the parking lot seems fuller than usual for a bar like this.

“I’m Jisung, by the way,” he says finally.

You turn back to him and nod once. “Y/n. It’s great to meet you.”

As Jisung indulges you in conversation about city life, you learn he’s a businessman who visits the area on Saturdays when he gathers in the town with old friends. He also lives alone in a high-rise apartment, he’s single, and he comes to this particular dive bar for the chicken wings. Ones he insists you have to try, so you waive over the bartender to place another order.

“Excuse me, could we get an order of chicken wings?”

The bartender scribbles something and walks away quickly, hardly acknowledging you the way he did earlier.

“You know,” Jisung says. “Maybe the rain isn’t such a bad thing.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve been talking to the prettiest girl in this bar for the last 30 minutes. Beats being stuck in traffic any day.”

You feel your whole face turn a bright shade of crimson as he grins flirtatiously. Of course, the other way around stands true, too; his features resemble that of a model’s, and you're pretty sure the other girls in the bar have been eyeing him since you walked in.

Before you can respond, the bartender returns, setting a plate down in front of you and some silverware.

“Enjoy,” he says plainly, and he blinks a few times before leaving again.

“Jeez, it’s like he doesn’t even want to work here,” you tell Jisung.

He says nothing in response- he simply slides the plate over to you, ushering for you to choose a piece.

And you do, carefully balancing the saucy cut between your forefinger and thumb as Jisung taps his against yours.

“Cheers,” he says happily. “To the rain.”

The chicken is the best you’ve had in a while- in fact, you can’t recall having better food at any bar before this.

“Wow, you were right, Jisung. this is phenomenal!”

“It’s Minho’s recipe,” he replies with a mouthful of food.

“Who’s Minho?”

Jisung nods in the direction of the bar, where the bartender is cleaning off a glass with a white towel. He raises his eyebrows once at you, as if to confirm he’s indeed the topic of conversation, and you turn back to Jisung.

“It’s really good,” you say loudly, with the intention of Minho hearing your compliment.

But Minho doesn’t respond, instead sauntering over and refilling your Diet Coke. His eyes visibly avoid yours, guarded, like you might instigate another quarreling match with him at any given second. But he also blinks rapidly as he pours your beverage, almost as if he’s trying not to say something himself. You analyze his mannerisms briefly, before brushing them off and enjoying your food again. He’s probably just still peeved from earlier.

“Do you want to play a round of pool?” Jisung interrupts your thoughts. “Not to scare you, but I’m kind of terrible at it.”

His eyes form little crescents as he laughs loudly, and the gloomy vibe in the bar seems to brighten from the sound alone.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

Three rounds in, Jisung is practically sober again, reeling off the high from winning three times against you. He might be terrible, but you’re evidently far worse than he claims to be.

“If I win this match, you let me take you out on a date. How does that sound?” Jisung says through laughter, though he’s entirely serious about the proposal.

Your cue stick prods at his ribs as you smile back in agreement. “And if you lose?”

“I won’t lose,” Jisung retorts. “Might as well pick a restaurant now.”

It’s a failure already, Jisung having only two stripes left while you’re still stuck with all 8 solids. He takes his aim at the cue ball, halting his laughter briefly to position his cue stick, and then cheering loudly as the ball disappears into its nearest hole. You watch with bated breath as he repeats the process, only this time, he misses.

“Hey,” you whine. “You only brought up our proposal midway through this round. At least I deserve a chance card!”

He scoffs. “Pick a chance then. I doubt it’ll get you 7 balls closer to your competition.”

You scan the room in deep thought, one hand resting under your chin and atop the cue stick; and then, the idea hits you.

“He’ll play for me,” you announce, nodding toward the direction of where Minho is wiping down the counter with a rag. He looks up momentarily, furrowing his brows when he notices the shared looks of you and Jisung.

“Get over here!” Jisung shouts, and a few patrons of the tables nearby encourage the invitation, cheering and applauding.

“No,” Minho says as he shakes his head shyly. “I’m busy.”

“There’s literally no one around,” Jisung retorts. “Come on, I know you can try at least once.”

“He’s scared he’ll lose,” you chime in. “And then you’ll have to take me out on a date.”

You swear you see Minho’s eyes narrow, and then he dries his hands with the same rag before setting it down.

“One round only. If I win, you tip double.”

“Deal,” says Jisung, and you watch Minho strut over to the table.

He’s taller than you assumed, towering over you in a black pair of slacks that lengthen his muscular legs. In preparation, Minho cuffs up his sleeves a few more times, buttoning them at the forearm and loosening his collar. You try your hardest not to stare, but it’s a seemingly impossible task, you quickly realize, as he takes your cue stick and positions himself over the table. One loose strand of brown hair falls into his face, and you resist the urge to move it out of the way for him.

The tables nearby are quiet as Minho pulls back, and then aims, the first of your solids rolling into the hole with ease.

“Oh fuck you,” Jisung groans, and Minho positions himself over the next target. Aim, roll back, perfect shot.

Tables around you begin to gather around yours, watching silently as Minho repeats his method. Aim, roll, shoot. The heavy sound of a solid rolling down the velvety surface, and the satisfying plink as it finds its home inside the hole.

Only two solids remain, and Jisung rests his head on his cue stick as Minho takes aim again. “I can’t watch. Someone tell me if he gets it.”

Aim… roll… and double plink- both solids disappear into the hole beneath them, effectively ending the match between the two. The patrons clap and cheer loudly, and Jisung throws his hands in the air, groaning in annoyance. “Fuck, man! You didn’t say you knew how to play pool?”

Minho shrugs, not a hint of a smile on his face as he retrieves the balls and organizes them on the table again. Jisung slides him a twenty, and he shoots you a quick glance, nodding once as he leaves the table and disappears back into the kitchen. You wonder again what he’s thinking about, briefly worried you’ve annoyed him by pulling him away from his work.

“Hey,” Jisung says, snapping you out of your tranced state. “Did you want to… maybe… get out of here? I know a hotel just a few blocks from the bar. We can walk fast.”

You think it over momentarily, weighing your options. The rain has no intention of stopping anytime soon, and you’re dying for a shower at this point. You’re also persuaded by the idea of a warm bed- not to mention, a warm body, for the night.

“Sure! I’m just going to run to the bathroom, I’ll meet you outside.”

The reflection in the mirror looks rough, staring back at you like this, desperately fixing the smudged makeup to the best of your ability and spritzing perfume. It’s been a while since you hooked up with a random person- especially one from a dive bar like this, but somehow you trust him. He’s funny, sweet, and he’s undoubtedly attractive. Plus, maybe a hookup will distract you from the current state of things.

When you exit, you make your way past the barstools, thanking Minho briefly. His lips curl up into a hint of a smile, and you can’t help but feel bad for him- he’s stuck in this shitty bar regardless, dealing with obnoxious patrons seeking shelter from the storm and cleaning up after their drunken messes. He may be a little rude, but it’s deserved, you think, as he cleans off your dishes.

Finally exiting the bar, you look around for Jisung, shielding your eyes from sheets of rain and squinting against the dark sky. The only source of light is a hanging light beside the wooden bar sign, and it illuminates nothing past your immediate eyesight.

“Jisung?” You call, being met only with the sounds of heavy rainfall and swaying leaves.

“Jisung?”

The wind blows violently, and you wrap your arms around yourself, shivering against the brutal cold. A man enters the bar beside you, keeping the door open and ushering you inside. And you do enter again, marching straight to the bar to search for Jisung.

“Excuse me,” you say to Minho, who is busy preparing a beer on tap for another patron. “Did you see the man who was here earlier? Tall, black hair, suit?”

“You mean Jisung?” He says without looking at you, and you perk up at his name.

“Yes! Did you see where he went?”

“Yeah,” Minho replies dryly. “I told him you changed your mind about him.”

“You- what?”

Minho says nothing again, filling another mug of beer and sliding it across the counter to a patron.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

“He’s bad news,” Minho shrugs.

The words circle in your head for a good minute while you make sense of them. Minho ruined your chances at going home with Jisung- because he’s “bad news”? What does he even know about him?

“Why do you say that?” The question escapes your lips before you can ponder a more insightful one.

“I know him,” he replies casually. “Like I said- bad news.”

Frustration builds up steadily inside of you, turning your ears a bright shade of crimson and knitting your brows together in pure confusion.

“Who are you to determine that? You’re just a bartender! It’s none of your damn business who I leave with!”

He slaps a palm on the counter, not particularly hard, but enough to startle you a little.

“Actually, it is. I have a legal obligation to ensure my patrons don’t leave here inebriated behind a vehicle, or with strange men. And I saved you from the latter. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” You scoff. “Since I walked in here you’ve been nothing but a complete douche! There’s nothing to thank you for.”

“Then don’t,” Minho says. “I did my part either way.”

You stutter momentarily, settling on silence as he exits back to the kitchen and leaves you standing at the counter. The current state of things feels much like they did when you first entered- drenched from the rain, frustrated, and annoyed with the bartender. Only now, you can add cockblocked to the list, all thanks to Minho.

Two hours past the incident, your phone is completely dead. It’s just past 11 when the rain stills just for a little bit, and hoards of patrons file out of the bar to complete their short trips home. You remain stuck however, knowing the rain will pick up again if you attempt the six hour drive back right now. The bar is nearly empty at this hour, only two people sat at a far table, and the quiet swing of jazz music is now audible from your little booth. The peeling leather of the red seats below you is rather itchy, and the dim lantern hanging over you gives an orange-ish glow to the wooden table beneath you. You scribble mindless doodles on a stack of napkins in front of you, trying your best to pass the agonizing time spent here.

As you finalize the petals of a messy flower drawn on the napkin, a plate is set down in front of you, along with a glass of what you presume is Diet Coke. The smell instantly makes your mouth water- a cheesy omelet coupled with a side of french fries, steam still wafting off the plate and up into the glow of the booth’s lighting. You look up to see none other than Minho, and before you can protest, he slides into the booth across from you, setting a fork down on your napkin.

“You should eat,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“It’s on me,” Minho emphasizes, and you finally look up from your drawing.

“Look,” he begins. “Jisung has been coming here for years. He’s a cool dude, I get it.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly like I have a chance with him anymore,” you turn back to your drawing.

“He’s also married,” Minho finishes.

At that, your head snaps up at him, eyes widened in shock.

“What? But he said-”

“Yeah, that’s what he always says. It’s kind of his thing- picking up girls from the bar and taking them to that one hotel. I told you, he’s bad news.”

Silence washes over the booth as you swallow nervously. He shrugs apologetically, fiddling with his fingers as you begin to speak.

“Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t. I just didn’t want you to come back here crying tomorrow morning like the last girl did.”

It hits you like a ton of bricks- Minho really was looking after you. You’d almost left this strange dive bar, in the middle of nowhere, to sleep with a married man in a sketchy hotel. In hindsight, it was stupid you ever agreed.

“At least eat some fries,” he says, and you remember the plate in front of you. You comply with his request, taking a bite of the still-warm fries which almost melt on your tongue.

“These are really good,” you tell him. “He was right about the food, at least.”

“I’m kind of a big deal here,” Minho says as he leans back. He smirks- the first time you’ve seen an expression on his face tonight.

“I’m sure. How did you get so good at pool, anyway?”

“I work at a dive bar,” Minho says. “Girls ask me to play with them all the time.”

“Do they now? Your reluctance earlier says otherwise.”

“Oh they do,” Minho says. “When they’re as shitty as you, I’m the chance card.”

“Hey!” You shout. Minho giggles, his head thrown back as his eyes form little crescents in amusement. His laugh makes you laugh, too, the musical sound of it making your heartbeat quicken a little. It’s melodic and lighthearted, and you almost forget you’re stuck with him in this hell of a bar. There’s a glow to him at this time of night.

“Run it back,” you say as his laughter dies down. “And I’ll show you I’m not entirely terrible.”

“Better hope you don’t lose,” he says. “You won’t have a chance card this time.”

You still suck at pool. Minho clears the table in two quick rounds, and you’ve barely had time to practice with your cue stick because it’s hardly ever your turn.

“Alright,” Minho says. “I’ll let you have this turn. It’s boring watching you stand there all night.”

You approach the table, positioning your cue stick and taking aim at your first solid of the match.

“Use your thumb on the front hand,” he chimes in.

“Like this?”

“No, it should be between your thumb and pointer finger.”

“Like I’m pinching it?” You ask confused, and Minho chuckles.

“Here.��

Before you can adjust your cue stick again, Minho is behind you, one hand finding yours at the front of the cue stick and positioning it between your thumb and pointer finger like he explained. His hands are cold to the touch, and you’re intimidated having him this close to you. The other hand gently grips your elbow, moving it back a little as he scans the current trajectory. His face is dangerously close to yours, hair falling beautifully into his eyes as he moves, lips parted in concentration and the gentle flutter of his eyelashes as he blinks.

“There. Try now.”

You do as he instructs, rolling back and taking aim at your solid. Aim, shoot… and the familiar roll of your ball across the table. Only this time, it’s followed by the satisfying sound of falling into its respective hole.

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim. “That’s only the third one I’ve gotten tonight!”

Minho chuckles, amused with your ardent reaction. “Your aim isn’t bad at all. It’s just your positioning.”

He turns to smile at you, momentarily unaware of how close he is to you. He’s towering over you, lips pulled into a mischievous grin as your eyes glimmer, still reeling off the high of scoring. For a brief second, your eyes flicker down to his lips, maybe a little too obviously, and then back up at his eyes.

“I should probably get back to the kitchen,” Minho says nervously. “I think that table ordered drinks like one round ago.”

“Yeah,” you reply, a little hurt that he’s leaving again. “I’m pretty tired, anyway.”

“You want something else to eat?”

“I’m fine, thanks. Good luck with work, though!” You avert his gaze fully now, mentally tracing the pattern on the rug below you.

When Minho leaves, you can’t help but mentally scold yourself. He’s just a bartender- one whose job is to serve you drinks and keep you out of trouble here. Not some friend to stand around and play pool with, regardless of how good he is, or hypnotizing it feels when he touches you.

At 1am, the bar is officially empty. The last few patrons leave after a round of gin vodkas, somehow getting an Uber despite the storm and leaving home for the night. You debate getting a room at the nearby hotel, but there’s no way you’ll be able to reserve a room this late, and your phone is still dead. It would probably be smart to attempt some method of getting home, but a part of you strangely doesn’t want to leave the bar anymore. It feels like a vessel into another universe, like time doesn’t exist here, like the storm or the ride home aren’t important as long as you’re sat in this little booth. You’re well aware the bar closes in an hour, but you’d rather wait until the hour to decide what to do.

Of course, part of it could be the bartender. You don’t want to like Minho, but you can’t quite make sense of him, either. He’s attractive, but reserved. He’s outgoing, but he has his guard up. And his walls break down when he’s enjoying himself, but he builds them up quickly again, and you can’t understand what triggers it. He’s much like the bar is- safe and homely, yet mysterious and alluring.

As you take a sip of your Diet Coke, neck craned to watch the show playing on the tv above you, a familiar face scoots into the booth across from you.

“Subway,” he says.

“What?”

“Jeopardy. Restaurants by slogan: Eat Fresh. It’s Subway.” He's referring to the episode of Jeopardy you’ve been watching for the past half hour.

“Everyone knows that,” you say with a smile.

You expect him to defend himself, but instead he laughs and shakes his head.

“Either our diet cokes are really good, or you’re not in any rush to get home.”

You sigh, swirling your straw around your third can of Coke and shrugging.

“I can’t make it home in this rain. The roads are closed going my direction, anyway.”

“Where’s home?”

“Far from here. In the city.”

Minho sits back comfortably now, arms crossed in front of him as he listens to you speak.

“City girl. I guessed it.”

“What gave me away?” You ask with a smile.

“iPhone charger request. And you drink Diet Coke exclusively.”

“I don’t like to waste my calories!” You argue.

“You’re in a dive bar.”

The two of you share laughter at your admission, and you can feel your cheeks heat up again. He sure knows how to make you laugh.

“I’ll probably get a motel room for tonight,” you say. “I think there’s one walking distance from here.”

“The nearest one is a shithole. I’m pretty sure someone died there, like, a few months ago.”

You exhale deeply, poking around at your drink with your straw.

“I have work on Monday. I have to get some shut-eye or I won’t be able to get home even if it does stop raining.”

Minho glances around the bar, observing the vacant tables and empty parking lot.

“Yah, Jeongin-ah!” He shouts suddenly, and a figure appears around the kitchen door, peering over at your table.

“Yeah?”

“Clock out,” Minho says. “We’re closing an hour early.”

“An hour? But what if-”

“No one else is coming in this rain. Just grab your stuff And get home safely. I’ll handle the rest of the tables.”

Jeongin’s gaze darts over at you quickly, and then back to Minho, as he nods without saying another word. He disappears into the kitchen once again, presumably to gather his belongings.

“You don’t have to close on account of me,” you say finally, a little unsure of his motives. “I can walk to the motel from here.”

He scoffs, sliding out from the booth and gathering a stack of dirty dishes from the table beside you. “I told you, it’s not safe. You can chill here for the next hour while I do closing procedures, and if it’s still raining, I can at least give you a ride there.”

“Why should I trust you?” You ask, hint of sarcasm present in your voice, but still cautious.

“Technically you shouldn’t,” he says with a smile. “But you’re free to call the cops on me whenever you want.”

“Nice try. My phone's dead.” You shoot him a smile, knowing he’s just messing with you, but wanting to entertain his little game nonetheless.

“Back room, third drawer in the file cabinet. There should be a phone charger there.”

You gasp and scoff. “I thought this wasn’t a convenience store!”

“It’s not,” Minho says, flashing you a toothy smile as he makes his way to the kitchen and calls out over his shoulder. “It’s a dive bar. My dive bar.”

Minho scrubs grease off the plates while you dry mugs on the counter adjacent to him and arrange them neatly in a row.

“So you haven’t left this town in years?” You ask Minho, continuing the conversation you’ve been having with him for the past 45 minutes.

“I drive to the city probably once a year,” he replies. “Hate it.”

“Why?”

“It’s too busy. I prefer simple. Simple people, simple places. A simple life.”

“How can you say that when you’ve never experienced it the other way around before?”

“Have you?”

“Have I what?”

“Experienced a simpler life. Outside of the city.”

“Well… kind of. I mean, I moved out the second I turned 18. Grew up in the suburbs, but I traveled to the city every chance I got. I always knew I wanted to be there.”

“So you’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible?”

“I guess not.”

He wipes his forehead with the back of his arm.

“I grew up in the city.”

“You did?”

“Hated it,” Minho says.

“Why’s that?”

“I was… easily distracted. Got involved with a lot of bad crowds. Never knew what I wanted. Worked as a private chef for a while, actually.”

You stop drying the mug you’re working on and look at him in utter shock.

“You?”

“Me,” he affirms with a chuckle. “I quit one random day five years ago and moved out here with every penny I saved. Obtained ownership of this bar and haven’t looked back since.”

You nod at his words, resuming your task as he shuts off the water.

“Takes some courage, I’ll give you that.”

Minho leans back against the counter and rests his hands on the table behind him. He smirks at you knowingly, and you can feel his eyes pierce through you out of your peripheral vision.

“What?” You say with a blushing grin.

“Nothing,” he replies. “You make a good employee here.”

“Yeah, right,” you say sarcastically, lining up the last mug on the counter and turning around to face him.

“I’d probably start a fire with running water or something crazy.”

He laughs again, shaking his head as you cross your arms.

“I need to close up the registers,” Minho says. “You want to hang out here until I’m done?”

“Sure,” you reply, and he bows slightly.

“I’ll try to be fast.”

Minho leaves to the back office as you wipe your hands with a dish rag, smiling in a daze.

While Minho counts change in the office, you explore the place a bit, making your way around the pool tables to the back of the bar. It’s then that you notice a tall staircase almost hidden away in a back corner. You slowly make your way up the stairs, tip-toeing so as not to startle Minho while he’s in the office closing up for the night. The creaky wooden stairs are muffled by the sound of the rain outside.

When you reach the top, you lean on the banister, looking down on the bar and taking in the view. It looks especially charming like this, illuminated only by the golden neon sign hung over the bar counter and reflecting off the big glass cabinets. Entrance through a small doorway leads to a single, dark room, and you turn on the dim light to explore the room.

There are only two things in the room- another pool table, visibly much older than the others downstairs, and an old arcade game. Upon closer inspection, you find that the game is a run-down version of Pac-Man, one of your favorite arcade games growing up. The giant yellow display is decorated with whimsical little drawings of Pac-Man and ghosts, and you can’t help but crack a smile at the sight, remembering the days you used to play as a kid.

You try the on switch, being met with a buzzing noise and the glow of red marquee lights, but nothing appears on the screen. Bummer, you think to yourself.

“It’s never turned on,” a voice says behind you, and you let out a shout, startled at the sudden noise.

When you turn around, Minho is standing with his hands in his pockets, a black blazer thrown over his button up shirt and a bag slung over his shoulder.

“Got it as a donation a few months ago and it’s lived up here ever since. I think it’d be a hit, if it actually worked.”

You turn back to the machine, observing the gentle hum from the static on the monitor display.

“It’s probably something with the PCB,” you reply, and Minho turns to look at you.

“The what?”

“The printed circuit board,” You repeat, setting your purse down on the floor beside you. “You have a screwdriver?”

Minho’s brows furrow together in confusion, but he nods slowly. “Yeah, sure.”

He leaves momentarily and returns with the requested tool, watching as you drop to your knees and unscrew the door to the cabinet.

“The lights turn on, which is a good thing,” you explain to him. “Means the monitor is still in good condition. So It’s probably just slowed down with general wear.”

When the cabinet door is off, Minho leans back against the pool table and observes as you pull out little parts from the myriad of pieces along the circuit.

“I figured,” You say, sitting back with a tissue in hand. “The EPROMs and ROMs are all warped.”

You pull a bobby pin out from your hair, gently wiggling the pins back in place before cleaning them off with a tissue.

Minho is lost as he watches you, mouth agape at the level of focus in your expression, tongue poking out between your lips as you move with purpose and determination. He realizes he may have undermined you this whole time, thinking secretly you’d crave a simpler life, when all along it was your intelligence and wit that drew you to the city. You’re as complex as the city, he thinks. You can’t be confined within the safety of these four walls like he can. And maybe he’s complex, too. But he’s not sure of himself the way you seem to be.

When you’re finished wiping down the acronyms of pieces, you fit them back in and screw back on the door. Minho watches curiously as you plug in the machine again, reaching around the frame for the switch and flipping it on.

The familiar hum of the screen starts up again, only this time it flashes a bright white color, and then displays PAC-MAN as soft music begins to play.

“Holy shit,” Minho says with a breathy chuckle. “That would've been thousands to get repaired.”

“Take it as a thank you,” you say. “For helping me out tonight.”

You hoist yourself up on the pool table and gesture to the display as he stares in awe. “Try it!”

Minho presses the red START button, chuckling when the familiar tune starts up and the game begins. He makes it through a few rows before getting eaten by a pixelated ghost, groaning when the game flashes GAME OVER and starts up another round.

But he doesn’t resume playing, instead turning around to face you with an unmoving expression.

“It’s drizzling,” he says, looking past you out the little window.

“Mhm,” you reply, though you’re not registering a word he's saying anymore. He’s dangerously close to you again, eye-level with you while you’re sat atop the pool table and not taking your gaze off him.

He seems to be trembling with anticipation, his gaze flickering down to your lips and back up to your eyes, hoping you’ll notice the motion and do something, anything with it.

“We should probably get going,” You say in a whisper.

He swallows cautiously. “Yeah.”

“Right now that the rain is a little lighter.”

“Yeah,” he says again, though neither of you make any move to leave.

“Thanks for tonight,” you reply, your eyes fully locked on his lips now.

Minho begins to say something, but his voice hitches in his throat, instead opting to swallow and and take a single step forward. And before you can say another word, his face tilts in front of you, gently pressing his lips to yours.

He kisses you gently, but he doesn’t waste any time, hands caressing your waist in his embrace and pressing up against you. He tastes like mint, his tongue mixing the flavor with the taste of Diet Coke still in your mouth. When he pulls away, he says nothing, searching your expression for a sign of how you’re feeling. You say nothing, too, eyes flickering over his serious gaze and waiting for him to break the silence.

When he still doesn’t talk, you reach out to grab his collar, pulling him toward you again. You kiss him first this time, slipping your tongue inside his parted lips to taste him fully, gripping his collar like you might lose him if you let go.

“Fuck,” Minho says, pulling away and breathing heavily. He squeezes his eyes shut, a nervous expression tugging at his lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t do this,” Minho replies. “With patrons. I just… I don’t know what got into me…”

His words trail off as you work little kisses down his jawline and neck, nibbling over his clavicle and humming greedily against him.

“What if I wanted you to?”

Minho stares at the ceiling as you work him, breath hitching in his throat as you trail even lower.

You pull away from him, tilting his gaze down to meet yours with a hand on his cheek.

“Say you don’t want to kiss me again,” you clarify. “Say it, and I’ll stop.”

His eyes narrow, piercing through yours as his hands rest gently on your upper thighs.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says seriously.

Your heart drops instantly, the anticipation that had built up pending his answer quickly fizzling as his words pierce through you. Your throat is dry, dozens of questions circling your mind, but nothing that comes to fruition amidst your disappointment. Guess it wasn’t the way you’d read into it all night.

“Okay.” Your voice is shaky, doing nothing to mask your disappointment.

“I don’t want to kiss you,” Minho says again quickly, his thumbs tracing circle patterns on your thighs. He leans in again, lips just barely grazing over yours as he speaks in a whisper. “I want you right here, on this table, right now. I want to do a lot more than just kiss you.”

Your heartbeat resumes, pulsing wildly as he scans your face for a reaction. You don’t grant him one through your facial expressions- rather, you pull him in by his collar once again, closing the gap between you and kissing him even harder this time. You can feel Minho smirking into the kiss, amused with how desperate you are at the simple admission.

His hands snake up your sweater, grabbing desperately at your lower back and pressing into you with his hips. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist, neck craned to the side for easy access while he begins to work kisses down your neck now.

“You really suck at pool,” Minho says as he smiles against your skin. His lips find yours again, giving you repeated chaste kisses as you tangle your hands in his hair. His lips feel familiar on yours- almost like you’ve done this a hundred times before. You can’t imagine a version of him you weren’t kissing like this.

“You’re calculated,” you say, smiling as you loosen the black tie around his neck.

“How so?”

“No phone charger, you only agree to play pool when a date with Jisung is on the line, and you’ve gotten me to stick around this long? You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Minho throws his head back a little, his eyebrows arching as he laughs loudly.

“You might be a genius at fixing arcade games, but you don’t have everything figured out the way you think you do.”

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

He pulls away again, completing your task of loosening his tie, and then discarding it completely on the table beside you.

“It stopped raining 15 minutes ago,” he says slyly. “And suddenly you’re in no rush to go home anymore.”

His eyebrows are raised as his hands caress your thighs, moving higher until he’s grazing your hip bones with his fingertips. You don’t reply, suddenly hot at his words, and knowing he’s in fact entirely correct about it. It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting around for all night- a break in the rainfall to get back to your car and make it to a hotel for the night. But paired against the other opportunity right in front of you- the one wearing nothing but a loosened white shirt and a devilish smirk on his face, you can’t do much but resort to the latter.

“You gonna spread for me?” Minho asks in a gentle teasing tone, his voice much quieter than before as your breath hitches in your throat. You nod, disregarding his first statement and doing as you’re told, slipping off your jeans and opening your legs just enough so that he can move his fingertips to graze your inner thighs. It feels dirty like this, so sinful for your skin to make contact with the velvety table below you. But you’re too dazed with lust, completely encapsulated by his movements to do anything except obey him.

“Good girl,” Minho replies, and your heartbeat quickens at the praise.

His hands dance in gentle back and forth motions along your thighs, gradually getting closer to your core, until his middle finger rests gently atop your clothed clit.

Your eyes dart down to his hand briefly, waiting desperately for him to touch you, to kiss you, anything.

“Look at me,” Minho says.

And you do, making eye contact again with his cold stare, piercing salaciously through your doe eyes.

Another smirk grows on his face as he crouches lower, and lower, dropping to his knees until he’s eye level with your aching pussy.

“Please…” you say, resting your weight back on your palms and spreading your legs further for him. Your breaths are labored, eyebrows arched up at just the thought of his tongue on you.

“Please what?”

“Please, would you… eat me out?” You request quietly, somehow internally panicked that he’ll decline.

But he doesn’t- instead he loops a finger through your underwear, pulling down in a sudden motion, eyes widened at the sight of you like this. You’re swollen with arousal, clit visibly quivering at the proximity of his breath against your folds. Your pussy is deliciously sopping for him, glazed juices painting your cunt all for him.

“God,” he breaks the silence. “You’re soaking. I could probably put it in now and you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t answer him, tucking strands of hair behind your ears and looking down on him with anticipation.

“Okay,” Minho says with a slight chuckle. “Just relax for me.”

And without wasting another minute, his hands find purchase on your knees, scooting you closer to the edge of the table before finally burying his face in you. His tongue licks a long stripe along your pussy, smiling at the taste, before his lips latch themselves around your clit and suck harshly.

Your eyes roll back almost instantly, completely lost in the sensation of his tongue gliding back and forth over your folds like a starved animal. His plump lips remain latched to your clit, suckling with lewd wet noises and basking in the flavor of your arousal for him. As your legs tremble with pleasure, your hands quickly find themselves tangled in his hair, grinding him up against you and using his face to satisfy the delicious ache between your legs. Minho is well aware of your desperation, pulling away mere centimeters to grin at your reaction.

“Don’t stop,” you say, massaging his tresses in encouragement to keep going. Minho chuckles, this time latching on to your bundle of nerves with a gentle graze of his bunny teeth. He nibbles tenderly, eyes rolling up to watch your reaction as you sense the shift in his actions.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out frantically. “That feels so fucking good."

Minho smiles into your pussy, giving one small lick with his tongue before utilizing his velvety lips on your clit once again.

“Mmh…” he hums into your pussy, sending divine vibrations that tickle your arousal and instinctively make you moan for him.

“You taste so good,” Minho says between suckling. “I wanna make you cum for me.”

You nod down at him, rubbing little circles on his scalp and throwing your head back when he dips his tongue into your entrance.

“Oh god!”

At first he takes little kitten licks at your entrance, coming back up to kiss your clit repeatedly while you wait in anticipation. And then he brings a hand up to your entrance, sliding one finger in and working it around your pussy as he continues the unwavering attention on your bundle of nerves.

“Yeah, just like that,” you encourage him.

“You like it when I do both at once?” Minho inquires with a knowing smile.

“Yes, fuck” you can hardly answer him between the high-pitched moans that fill the dark room.

“Like when I fill you up?” A kiss on your clit. “Like when I taste you?” He laps at your folds. “Like when I fuck you like this?” Two fingers pump in and out of you now, smearing your arousal back on your clit which he wastes no time lapping up on his tongue.

“Yes, fuck Minho! Please, I’m gonna cum-”

“Cum, then. Want you to make a mess on my face.”

His fingers pump at an even faster pace while he sucks your clit between his teeth and emits a deep moan against your wetness. The vibration of his voice gives attention to the rest of your aching pussy, which finally contracts desperately around his fingers as you leak cum on his tongue. Minho licks you clean, chuckling against you when he takes your clit between his teeth again and hears you gasp in overstimulation.

Both of you say nothing as he stands back up, eye-level to you once again, his chin glazed in your juices. He rests his hands on your thighs as he did before, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on your lips and smile against you. Your hands toy with his belt buckle, tracing the pattern in your fingertips before slowly undoing the buckle and snaking the belt out from the loops on his trousers.

“Let me return the favor?” You ask against his lips, and he takes a sharp breath when you unzip his pants.

“Can I be honest?” Minho replies, and you pull away to look him in the eyes. His round eyes are dark, hooded with lust and curiously peering back at you.

He grins sheepishly, massaging your thighs with the palms of his hands as he speaks. “I think I’ve been hard for you the second you walked in here.”

The words make your heart flutter, suddenly much more aware of his contact against your skin, an insatiable desire to satisfy him and let him do whatever he may please.

Maybe you were the one mistaken all night- maybe Minho’s curt attitude and cold demeanor wasn’t in fact discourteousness at all. Perhaps he was just as drawn to you as you were to him. And now here you are, each drawn to the other like moths to a burning flame, eager to explore and make the fleeting moment last in any way you could.

You laugh at his admission, moving strands of hair out from his face and tucking your face in the crook of his neck, where he presses a chaste kiss to your temple through nervous laughter of his own.

“Yeah?” You say finally. “What are you going to do about it?”

Minho narrows his eyes with a challenging expression, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off the table, where he now towers over you and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“Turn around,” he orders candidly. Your heart flutters again at the implication- him ordering you around like this when he’s already satisfied you once. But the tone he maintains is both sweet and inviting, and you know his intentions are the same as yours.

You follow his command, facing the pool table as he presses you against the edge, arms wrapping around your waist and peppering your shoulders in little kisses.

His hands snake up your sweater, where he now cups your breasts in his large palms and unclasps your bra. Once you’re bare, you hear him pull down his trousers, the muffled sound sending chills down your spine. If you weren’t dripping with anticipation before, you certainly are now. Minho latches his lips onto your throat, suckling just enough to mark purple bruises along your neck and collarbones. Part of you wants to deny him the little pleasure, reminding him that you have work on Monday and you can’t show up looking like you spent the weekend at a frat party. But the way his skewed front teeth nibble at your flesh stings delightfully, and you can’t bring yourself to protest it.

It’s then that you feel him behind you- his erection pressing into your upper thigh. He pushes into you with force, grinding softly on your skin and moaning against your neck when he feels you lean back into him.

One of your hands reaches out to palm him over the fabric of his boxers, and he lets out a soft whimper at the contact.

“Jesus,” he says “I can’t wait anymore. Prop your leg up for me, baby. On the- yeah, just like that.”

He guides you with one hand, moving your thigh up so that he has better access to your cunt as he palms himself more with his other hand.

“Is this okay?” Minho asks, now freeing his cock from his boxers and tapping gently at your entrance. The sensation of his bare flesh against yours has you in a daze, desperate to be filled up by him.

“Mhm,” you say, drunk off the feeling of him behind you like this.

“Gonna put it in now, okay?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing heavily as he jerks himself a few times. And without another minute to spare, he’s sliding himself inside of you, bottoming out almost instantaneously as your pussy takes him with ease.

“Oh my god,” you breathe out. “You’re so big.”

Minho smiles against your neck, pressing one chaste kiss and gathering your hair out from in front of your face.

He starts with gentle thrusts, panting in your ear and letting his hands wander all over your body as he moves. Your eyebrows arch up in pleasure, mouth agape as he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of his thrusting teeming all around you.

“God, you take me so well,” Minho breathes. “You’re so wet for me still.”

You can barely respond to him, one hand reaching up to tilt his jaw toward you so you can kiss him on the mouth again, your lips drooling with saliva and fucked-out with pleasure.

“I’m close,” Minho says into your mouth, pausing his thrusts momentarily to then pick up the pace again, much faster and with even more force.

“Ah- me too.”

As he moves in and out of your sopping cunt, one of his hands sprawls out across your tummy, pushing down with gentle pressure as he thrusts. You feel your insides contract at the sensation, now much closer to your release.

“Fuck, M-Min I’m gonna,”

He smiles against your neck again, amused with your reaction to the little move.

“Let go,” he says breathlessly into your ear. “I know you can give me a second one.”

His hand pushes down a little more, now tickling your insides with the constrained sensation against your abdomen.

And between his thrusts, you feel yourself let go around him, letting out a series of breathy moans as you cum on his still-moving cock. Only this time, you let go of everything, trickling fluids over him and the edge of the table, soaking the floor with remnants of you.

Minho’s orgasm follows just seconds after, breathing out melodic whimpers and moans as he feels you squirt, shooting ropes of his cum inside of you and fondling your breasts through his orgasm. He thrusts every last drop back into you, pulling out when he feels you shudder from overstimulation once again.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses as he pulls out. “You made a mess for me, baby.”

When you’re both finished, you’re quick to dress yourself, pulling your sweater back over your head and buttoning your jeans once again. Minho turns around while you get dressed, well aware that he was inside of you just minutes ago, but wanting to respect your boundaries now that you’re no longer being intimate. He gets dressed too, observing through the little window how the rain hasn’t started again in the entirety you’ve been up here. When you’re done, he turns back around, shooting you a little smile as you fix your hair.

“What?” You inquire, mirroring his expression as he stares back at you.

“Where have you been?” Minho asks simply.

“Hm?”

“Where have you been all my life?”

You cock your head a little, not missing the way he blinks nervously a few times after asking the question.

“Not the suburbs,” you reply with a smile. “That’s for sure.”

The gentle lull of jazz music rings through Minho’s ears as he wakes, glancing around to take in his surroundings. He’s sprawled out on the dingy red couch in the back room, still wearing last night’s clothes, hair glued to his forehead under a sheen layer of sweat. The clamoring of dishes startles him, and he furrows his brows together in annoyance as he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Minho?” A voice says, and he shuts his eyes preemptively at the inquiry. “Did you…sleep here?”

When his eyelids flutter open again, he’s met with Jeongin, who’s already showered and dressed for his noon opening shift, clutching the till in both hands as he observes Minho’s disheveled state.

Beside him, the little folding table is in disarray, empty bottles of coke and peanut shells scattered everywhere. His mind goes back to last night- the arcade game, kissing you in the spare room upstairs. Fucking you over the pool table at ungodly hours of the night.

After you’d both finished, you agreed to stay in the back room downstairs until daylight when it was a bit safer to be on the road again. You and Minho chatted over diet cokes and a game of cards, between makeout sessions and desperate groping at each other in the dim light of the room. He wanted so badly to make love to you all over again, resisting the urge only because he didn’t want you to think all of this was just for sex. And maybe it started that way, when he fled back to the kitchen after helping you adjust your cue stick during a round of pool in an attempt to hide his raging hard-on. But somewhere along the way, he was also encapsulated by you- by your endearing obsession with Diet Coke, your ability to carry a conversation with a total stranger in these circumstances, and undoubtedly, your unique talent at fixing things.

It was just past 5 when you left, doing a double-take at Minho’s snoring figure to ensure he was actually asleep. You wanted to thank him- in fact, you stood over him for several minutes, playing the conversation in your head of how this would go.

“I’m leaving now- thanks for the life-changing sex and the free sodas. Call me if you’re ever in the city you despise.”

There was no good way to go about it- any which way, you knew that the two of you were destined for very different things, to live completely separate lives.

“You’ve never lived without the notion of wanting to migrate as soon as possible,” Minho had said to you earlier, and you knew he was right, even still longing to one day get out of this province, and maybe even this country. A simpler life scared you- exactly what Minho chased after. And perhaps by extension, chasing after Minho scared you, too.

The dive bar suddenly feels suffocating to Minho, still looming with the rotten scent of cigarettes and beers. For the first time ever, he feels boxed in, much too confined by the four walls and the foggy window at the back.

“I’m leaving,” Minho says, quickly gathering his bag and his blazer from off the floor.

“Where are you going?” Jeongin asks, still holding the till and scanning Minho with a worried expression on his face.

Minho isn’t sure where- in fact, he’s not quite sure about anything right now. All he knows is that you’ve sparked something in him, something he hasn’t felt in a long, long time. The days of working as a private chef paint vivid memories in his mind, days which he still had passion within him, trying new recipes late through the night and never ceasing to better his methods. A time that now feels one lifetime ago, much more complex in juxtaposition with this new life. Except maybe simple wasn’t the solution all along- for once, he’s determined to bask in all your complexities, even if it means sacrificing everything he left the city to pursue.

“I’m going to the city,” Minho says, combing through his hair with his fingers.

“The city? I thought you hated it there?”

Minho says nothing, sauntering to the door and fishing his car keys out of the drawer by the register.

“Oh, and Jeongin-ah?”

“Yes?”

“Call someone to move that arcade game downstairs.”

“The Pac-Man one? It doesn’t work-”

“It does now,” Minho replies. “Just promise me it’ll be down here when I get back.”

“Sure thing. But- how’d you get it to work?”

And without looking back, Minho approaches the double doors, keys in hand, no particular destination in mind. The gray clouds have nearly cleared up by now, fresh hues of blue painting the vast sky that overlooks the day ahead. The city calls out to him from afar, bustling traffic and busy roads clouded in pollution. But this time, he answers, in hopes you’ll be there, too.

*Part 2 out now, available here.

#stray kids #skz smut #lee minho #lee know #stray kids hard hours #lee know smut #lee know scenarios #skz x reader #skz hard hours #stray kids x you #skz #fanfic #Spotify

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makingspiritualityreal · 5 months

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The Path of Evolution of Nakshatra Yonis

In traditional Vedic Astrology, every Nakshatra is attributed an animal, that explains its primal, instinctive nature. Yoni, besides its sexual connotations literally means "nature" and "origin", implying that our human nature is going to be similar to that given animal, indicating a level of similarity in fate, spiritually. Yoni energy, in collective consciousness, is what originated people saying that "a Tiger cannot change its stripes", just like we can't change our natural instincts.

The fate of Yoni energies, however, is not stagnant, as it indicates a certain path of evolution. The animal characteristics point to changing one's roles within the species. They are symbolic as to the instinctual nature that we take among other people, and how that evolved over time.

The best, brief description of Animal Yonis, translated by a native Indian can be found here, and after years of my own study and analysing the work of other astrologers also, I find this explanation to be very congruent with the reality of people's behaviors, coming from their Nakshatras.

Below, I will give an explanation of how each yoni grows over time using Nakshatra pairs.

Sheep Yoni - Krittika, Pushya

The name of the Yoni is in fact translated more to "Herder" or "Shepherd" rather than Sheep, another entry even translating Mesh to "The Best Guidance". That showcases the gentle, caring form of leadership that this Yoni is supposed to embody. It also shows the path of being born as one of the masses that leads them to becoming a leader of the flock. That contrast occurs through a simple truth in the Universe, that there are those who start waves, who "herd", those that initiate, or those who blindly follow, thus becoming "sheep". These Nakshatras are very strict, even black and white in embodying a simple truth, that if you don't dictate the current of your own life well, you will end up being swept away in the current dictated by somebody else. We all make decisions all the time, and if our actions are self destructive in face of opportunity, we won't ultimately arrive at the right place. The Universe at large is of course more complex than that, but for these natives, this idea is what charts their spiritual path. These natives karma is to undergo an evolution from being a "blind sheep", having an energetic poverty mentality and obsessing over feeling wanted through other people's approval to proudly showcasing oneself into a nurturing, guiding figure that cares about the well being of its people and cares for their sensitivity, as sheep are very delicate animals, get spooked easily, and herding them requires quite a skill, yet they still respond to natural confidence. It also shows this Yoni's attachment to working with common people in simple communities with a grass roots philosophy. The struggle for this Yoni is believing in themselves, their correct path and their own leadership power, as their emotional association and attachment with the masses and the common man can give them quite an inferiority complex early on in life and cause them to try to follow and imitate rather than lead, and their leadership is something they must create themselves, not something given to them or encouraged from birth. They key is to be a leader not out of ego, but out of love and service.

2. Snake Yoni - Rohini, Mrigashira

The Snake, just like the wildly misinterpreted biblical symbol, referred to in this Yoni is symbolic for a Kundalini awakening. Rather than the animal itself, which is associated more with Ashlesha Nakshatra, this Yoni relates purely to the awakening of our life force through passage of time and surviving certain events. The Yoni name in sanskrit translates to performance of gentle, cautious movements, slowly over time to the point of testing its subjects and bringing them to the point of torture. This test is necessary, as Kundalini awakenings and working with one's spiritual progress does not happen overnight, and without merit. These natives feel a significant pressure to awaken their energy, which initially can manifest as flightiness and careless, scattered romantic and sexual behavior. That happens on a subconscious level, as this Yoni tries to apply pressure to their kundalini energy from different angles in different forms through other people, and some of that experience has to be physical. They are naturally talented at accessing other people's kundalini points too, which can make them seem manipulative, but they in fact have the power to trigger a spiritual awakening not only in themselves but in others, which also will manifest as physical abundance. Often they have to go through very intense experiences for their kundalini to burst through. Their evolution has a deeply spiritual dimension, that transforms their energy from restless to rhythmic. As their consciousness is rising, the Kundalini is recoiling into purpose of energy mastery through transformation of both material and spiritual. The dharmic nature of this Yoni shows the importance of righteousness for these natives without looking out for merit, which arrives at its own designated time.

3. Dog Yoni - Ardra, Mula

The direct translation of this Yoni indicates the concept of being "easily attracted or captivated" or "easily attracting due to emitting an attractive sounding noise". Thus, these natives have issues with bondage to other people since their early lives. The challenge set before this Yoni is discipline and dignity, and finding their winning place in hierarchy. They have a pack mentality, and they tend to be picky but unwavering in support. However, that also makes them very frantic in earlier life, as their loyalty often gets the better of them and they are generous even to their own detriment, not looking where the pack leads them, because the concept of being "packless" scares them. As a result, they "bind" themselves to people not worthy of their loyalty, instead of embracing their power to control worthy others in an organized fashion. Their evolution is meant to go from Loyal to Steady, as they become more self assured and less reactive, and as a result, they attract their own tribe. The spiritual understanding here, is that one will always naturally attract their own tribe, and you are never truly alone, and you should not be afraid of restraint and self-focus leading to loneliness, as ultimately, your people will find you. These natives have an inbred discernment of who really is loyal to them and to their cause, as they know that a pack can only survive and function if its built on solid ground.

4. Cat Yoni - Punarvasu, Ashlesha

Anyone who has ever owned a cat knows, that these animals not only love to clean themselves constantly, but they also love laying down on you, whenever you are ill or unwell, and their natural frequency has a healing vibration. Sadly for these natives, early on in life that means attracting a lot of damaged people, or being the one that has to energetically clean up situations, even if it's just friends and family. In their youth, they are born or forced into environments that are not good for them, because of their burden of erasing destructive karmas. Such is the original karma of this yoni, as they are sent to clean up messes and "gather and purify" energies in places and environments, where they are needed to balance out stagnant situations, that no-one else can or wants to help with. Over time, this scenario gets old, as the natives themselves get blamed and pegged for the difficult situations they came into to help, as the people they work with are too low spiritually to acknowledge the truth of their own destructive actions, which is why they were targeted for this Yoni's "karma cleaning" force field to begin with. In reality, this Yoni natives suffer a lot of damage and can build up a lot of distrust towards people, just like cats don't immediately show love until you gain their trust. Their lives only get better once they place themselves in a healing profession, so they can channel their karma clearing energy productively, since they can't hold back their instinct of "constantly cleaning up", just like cats constantly clean themselves. Punarvasu is more responsible for emotional, spiritual healing and environmental causes, Ashlesha is more of a physical healer/doctor figure in modern society, because of its links to the caduceus, used in medical science, and its links to poison, as the right dose of poison is medicine. The challenge for these natives is to evolve from absorbing negativity and cleaning up other people's messes endlessly without merit to finding a good environment, and remaining so Pure, that they radiate it and they can contribute to cleaning up world problems on a larger scale, and get fairly recognized for it.

5. Rat Yoni - Magha, Purva Phalguni

The literal translation of this Yoni indicates not only a small rodent, mouse or a rat, but also a thief, and one's ability to gain entry into difficult to enter places sneakily. All of these abilities pertain to how socially skillful this Yoni is, being able to charm its way into various circles and thus "gain entry" into places way above their stature of birth, places one technically shouldn't have the right to be in. The instinctual nature of this Yoni is to cast a wide social net, and charm every single person for their benefit. However, there is a difficulty in settling into place, which can come at one's detriment. This yoni has a challenge of transforming from running around between meaningless people restlessly to circulating intelligently and with purpose. They have an inborn skill of social grace and are able to benefit through wise navigation, but they struggle with choosing and contributing to and moving consciously between meaningful alliances. Often, they manage to charm their interlocutor, only to get to know them better, lose interest and move on. This cycle can continue futilely, until this yoni learns discernment in networking, as their fickle-mindedness can cost them valuable partnerships. Just because one can enter into many places, doesn't mean one should. The other party can sense, that this Yoni isn't fully "settled" into the interaction long term, as they're still keeping their eye out for the next best thing, and as a result, they don't inspire loyalty or trust, which are necessary even if in small amounts for social benefit. In its matured state, this Yoni is able to build a meaningful network over time, being able to convince each of their allies that they are also indispensable to them and make their way up, climbing the social ladder. However, it is also necessary to contribute more than charm to partnerships, as the veneer of pleasantry fades over time, and one is likely to make enemies if not cautious. Thus, learning multiple, substantial skills and building actual character is necessary for this yoni to function well.

6. Cow Yoni - Uttara Phalguni, Uttara Bhadrapada

The literal meaning of this Yoni is translated to "boundless", showing one's energetic ability to provide to all generously, and a heavy quality of pure, positive energy. That is done by associating this name with all possible metaphors for abundance, such as flowing milk, boundless sky, beaming rays of light. The Cow Yoni needs to be understood from the perspective of Hindu culture, where it is a sacred animal. This Yoni refers to a particular purity and grandiosity, mixed with gentleness of nature. However, as we in the Western Society know, cows tend to get mass butchered for the benefit of men, and this Yoni's fate is a mix of approach from both cultures. That reflects the path of this Yoni, that faces a challenge from being taken advantage of to being given a safe space, creating and participating in an organized system and being worshipped for its merit. As they settle into the space that is right for them, they begin naturally spreading their abundance, which leads to getting respect for a wide scope of provision and protection, that their aura provides. They attract people either way, but with status comes ability to control ones worshippers and maintain their safety as opposed to getting taken advantage of. The ultimate goal of this Yoni is to find satisfaction in achievement through abundant sharing while remaining in their secured position, as they are sort of a Universal parent of humanity, meaning to guide, provide for, and control it, rather than being controlled. They need to create a system to "get milked" in a way that's healthy for them, not butchered.

7. Buffalo Yoni - Hasta, Swati

This Yoni possesses within itself an interesting contrast, as the translation has a dual signification. One of them indicates "a person of a lower origin", with specific pointers towards women needing to sell their bodies to survive, and then transformed into "a wife of a king" or "a god on Earth". This duality relates to this Yoni's earthly task, to purify false currents and blow in the winds of true wisdom. Roaming is the word best described to define this Nakshatras nature. Their path is one of dynamic, responsible grace. They are freedom loving and boundless, they don't like to be limited and as a result, early on in life they make mistakes of trampling over people just to rebel and avoid feeling tied down. In another scenario, they themselves get trampled on by others. That takes away their best trump card, which is positively inspiring others, as the truth they carry needs to be heard. Over time, the course they chart becomes more conscious and inspiring to people, as they deep down want to use their freedom for a good reason, and their flair and spirit attract others, who want to feel the fresh breath of wind of manifested spiritual reality with them. Their mission is to go from childish and avoiding of facts and responsibility or struggling, to becoming a unique, genuine freedom fighter with a good cause, a spiritual scientist that has the power to influence crowds yet still remain free spirited. In their refined form, these natives, every time they fly by, bring blessings to their surroundings with a gust of energy current, that they leave behind them, purifying and correcting falsehoods plaguing humanity. They have to be very responsible for the quality of the energy they carry, as what they scatter, will be left behind, and they will be judged and remembered for the fruits of their effort, and their truth. Thus, their natural ability to spread the energy far and wide has to come in pair with integrity, assuring, that what they share is worth spreading.

8. Tiger Yoni - Chitra, Vishakha

The meaning of this Yoni is directly translated to potency and readiness. More than a tiger itself, the name translates to "A Vibration that Causes Manifestation", but also "restless, agitated" and "exposed to dangers". The energy here is purely rajasic, concentrated on one's ability to obtain and manifest one's desires, but it also talks about the fact, that there will always be those, who are against you fulfilling your desires because people don't always want our good, and you getting them is contingent upon overcoming that opposition. The goal of this Yoni is to discover its immense inner power on the path from prey to predator. As another catlike Yoni, they are rarely born into circumstances fitting them, and they have to fight for their position in the Jungle of life. Their road develops from being hunted to hunting after their goals, from stumbling to graceful and intimidating. The power here is to go for what you want, regardless of opposition. Deep down these natives are powerfully sneaky, being able to influence or intimidate people to get what they want and elevate themselves out of difficult circumstances. They face the challenge of overcoming negative attachment and betrayal of people who question their authority, which is exactly what pushes them to embrace their power. Side note, please watch Katy Perry's "Roar" music video, it is so cliché of this Yoni it borderlines on hilarity.

9. Deer Yoni - Anuradha, Jyeshta

The main characteristic of this yoni, is that they are always in motion. They rarely pause, and they are very cautious and weary of enemies. This Yoni is not actually associated with the Deer itself, but with hunting, and chasing, Sanskrit even giving referrals to hyenas, showing the ruthlessness of their pursuits. The key element here is conquering fear of opposition, as this Yoni is closely linked to the Sacral Chakra, which cannot be expressed in a state of fear. The name of the Yoni also means relentless, which indicates that to achieve one's goal, one must have continuous persistence in face of opposition, until no-one dares to challenge them. Their path is one of developing merit and achievements over time stemming from their relentless pursuit of a worthy goal. They are supposed to move forward from blind ambition towards meaningful contribution and protecting their work for their work's sake. It is very important for them to have an outlet, as they become attacking and destructive when lost and not contributing to anything meaningful, just to deal with their inner restlessness and their desire to hunt or chase for something. They need to have an external endeavor to obtain, something to seek or strive after, as they delight more in the hunt than the tasting of the reward.

10. Alien Yoni - Purva Ashadha, Shravana

The traditional name of this Yoni is associated with a Monkey, but it is due to a lack of precision in understand the nature of these natives. It is true, that they have to learn how to navigate and exist among humanity through imitation, just like Monkeys navigate the jungle, but that is a gross understatement of their higher nature, as deep down, they are "not from here". The confusion with the monkey also comes from calling these natives "a mysterious creature that appeared in the forest" in Sanskrit. The evolution path of this Yoni is marked with their eccentric nature, as they are the most unique of all the Yonis, possessing a high level of depth due to their connection with otherworldly realms, being literally, not of this world. As a result of their uniqueness, they often feel separated from the rest of humanity in early years. Human beings initially have an impossible time grasping their higher nature, calling them "weird creatures of the forest" and frowning upon them, often abusing them as a result, as what we can't control, we fear. As these natives learn to harness the special gifts they are born with, they become a visionary, which leads them to gathering a following of people who finally appreciate, even worship their irreplaceable contribution, and pure heart that bursts forth through their creations.

11. Mongoose Yoni - Uttara Ashadha

The interesting part of translating the Yoni name for these natives, is that minus the obvious animal connotation, this Yoni can be translated to something akin to "A Spiritual Weapon". The struggle of this Yoni, that is well known is that it exists in a solitary form, possessing its equal only amongst the stars. Yoni matching here is not of interest, as these animals tend to travel in organized packs of their own. There is an element of being misunderstood and ostracized from the rest of the world, which leads them sometimes to questionable means, that they need in order to survive in early life. These means however, never last because these people possess a higher spiritual vibration, that seeks to purify itself. Their path is one from solitude, fear, lack, being hunted and outcast to surrender, enlightenment and brotherhood. They have a unique ability to establish a higher connection to the entire universe through equating people with nature. As much as they are without a consort, they can instinctively smell the nature of all other yonis. These natives are of such an advanced nature, that they understand our human selves are ultimately only tools in ascension and freeing your energy, which is their true goal, and their only real interest on this planet, since they operate mostly from the higher chakras.

12. Lion Yoni - Dhanishta, Purva Bhadrapada

The aspect of the Lion, coming from this Yoni's name comes from its dignified, steady posture, emitting calmness and pride, much like the dignified, yogic, lotus position, pertaining to the spiritual dignity of steadiness in form. The theme of saving face is very strong with this Yoni, as they are taught not to show weakness and preserve their stance since birth. They tend to get angry easily in earlier life, as they are naturally rebellious, independent, touchy, reactive and territorial. However, even if they are not born into status, they are born into a family that put an emphasis of making an impression and maintaining a certain position, even among obstacles. The key is to learn how to make being authentically oneself look good, and maintain one's dignity even as people oppose their natural, chosen path. Their path is one from laziness and reactivity to pride and dignity in face of adversity. Developing nobility of spirit is essential, as they need to be unflinching on their way up. If they develop a mix of internal integrity and an ability to present a good façade and a strong posture, they become very charismatic and inspiring, as their courage and determination is a guiding light for the world. They embody the spiritual meaning of appearances.

13. Horse Yoni - Shatabhisha, Ashwini

The biggest challenge of these natives is to be able to charter a long-term course, which in human life usually has a form of a complex, long term project. That is why both Shatabhisha and Ashwini are linked to the concept of inventing and developing miraculous cures, as this process can sometimes take decades. The other reason for this power they have, is that the name of the Yoni can also be associated with "revitalization". Think of the process of taming a wild horse. Initially, they put up a lot of resistance and they tend to scatter, and run without purpose. But with the right guidance, they can carry enormous burdens and have a lot of stamina, which allows them to traverse huge distances and bridge gaps, leading to novelty. Their path is one of moving from variety mindless pursuits to actually being able to hone in and finish a meaningful task, as they tame their own kundalini spark, that has the power to initiate breakthroughs for all mankind.

14. Elephant Yoni - Bharani, Revati

There is an element of subconscious fear of being consumed in this yoni, as they have an acute awareness of death, mixed with the consciousness of carrying a precious heritage. On their track, as contradictory emotions often go in tandem, they move on from initial timidness to reckless fearlessness, as if to taunt the world. As they mature, they grow into careful judgment and investment, thinking about what they will leave after death. Their path is to grow from being anxious about their fate to trusting in and performing divine judgment and working on their legacy. The challenge to overcome here is to develop an understanding, that death will ultimately come for us all, but our achievements and energetic contribution, as well as really strong, authentic bonds, can transcend that, and so one should be neither reckless nor fearful in the face of one's own mortality. These natives have the power to pour all of their wisdom and enormous energy body to nourish very wide projects, and they also have an inherent spiritual control to accessing huge bodies of energy, as they grow into being able to transcend their own limitations. In that way, they can become a measuring stick for others or even society at large. They are concerned with offspring, as they want to pass their heritage to them as a way of transcending death itself.

#vedic astrology #jyotish #nakshatras #vedic astro observations #vedic astro notes

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jaidens · 9 months

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I Could See You In Your Suit And Your Necktie – Pass Me A Note Saying, "Meet me tonight"

pairing [s] : aaron hotchner x fem!reader

a/n [s] : for all my hotch girlies.. me too girls. (requests are open)

It was extremely and completely unprofessional for the current actions that were happening. That was all that was running through Aaron's mind whenever he watches the way you tug off the tight button up t-shirt. If anyone found out about the relationship with his team member and the unit-chief he would surely have been fired. However the way you slowly unbuttoned his pants and bit your lip, he would have been gladly fired for you.

It's down right awful the way he lets you pull him apart with your manicured nails and messy hair. It all started with a singular look and a “Yes sir, I'm coming” when he called you into his office. He only needed to ask you a couple questions about a recent incident on the field whenever you grabbed his thigh by accident. However when you walked in, all was left out the door as you flapped your eyelashes.

The professionalism of the situation was wrong, and he could be easily kicked out for taking advantage of his power. The way your lips taste and feel against his makes everything fall apart. He knows nothing further can happen in the office, but he knows that his bedroom and a glass of wine can finish everything.

“Didn’t you have a question for me, sir?” Is all you say when you pull away from his lips. His tie is pulled loose and his lips are a dark pink. “When you—god, touched my thigh on the Craner case. What did that mean? I've been thinking about you since that day. It's like, fuck, I'm an addict for you, baby.” The way the curse and pet name slides out of his mouth like he's always called you that is addicting for you.

“I’ve been thinking about you too sir. Every night before bed.” You whisper in his ear, rilling him up further. Your hips grind against his as you connect his lips to yours again. His hands fall to your ass, massaging gently. “Well. I still have paperwork sir. I'll see you tomorrow.” You push off of him and he writes something on a piece of paper, rips it off, and hands it to you. “Goodbye agent.”

You can't help but smile at him and wave your fingers at him. The strong and broody man grips his own once further and slams his fist against the wooden desk. His tie is loose and you can see the soft mark of your lipstick that rubbed against the white collar. Aaron's normally slicked hair is messy and fluffed against his face.

The paper sits in your hand and you can feel it burning in your back pocket of your black slacks. Whenever you get to your desk, you sit down and you can feel Emily's eyes staring a hole in your head. You turn to look at her and she leans in, “Your lipstick is all over your mouth, and you just went into Hotch’s office. What happened? Are you guys.. y'know...” She makes a motion with her hands that makes you laugh. “Oh my gosh, Em, I just ran my hand down my face. Me and Hotch are not doing anything.” You wink at her and see her mouth drop open. “I totally knew y'all were doing something. Don't think I haven't seen you guys under the tables.”

You shake her off and continue your work as Aaron emerges from his office. He fixed himself up and somehow covered his pink marked collar. “Agents,” He addresses all of you, “You are being allowed to go home early.” You hear a couple cheers and you smile at him and grab your stuff. “I need to get to the station earlier. Recently, the subways have been coming so much earlier.”

You give a hug to Jennifer and Emily before walking away with Spencer. “How has your mom been, Spence?” You ask, holding small talk with him. “Thank you for asking. I called yesterday and the nurses said she's been improving.” He tells you as he presses the elevator button, suddenly Aaron appears behind you, hand slightly touching your lower back.

“That’s great Spencer. I'm glad she's doing better.” Aaron is standing in front of your Spencer as he presses the floor to the parking garage. “Me and Spencer are going to the main entrance. Level one please.” He presses the ‘1’ button and he turns around and stares at you and Spencer. Aaron leans into your ear and tells you dangerously: “Agent Reid is going to the entrance. I'm taking you home tonight.”

It makes you swallow the anxious feeling in your throat and you nod. Aaron straightens back up, fixing his tie. Spencer has subconsciously pushed away into the wall whenever you and Aaron walk out of the elevator and leave him alone. “Bye Spencer! I'll see you tomorrow.” You wave at him and he waves back and gives you a ‘good luck’ look. Spencer had been the only one to find out about your relationship.

He found out after he accidentally walked in the wrong hallway at the wrong time. Spencer was sworn to secrecy by him after you threatened to tell people about his Star Trek boxers. You and Spencer were considered the best friends of the team, other than him and Derek. You had been around the same age and both grew up in California.

“Why the hell would you do that in front of Spencer?” You push away from Aaron’s hands. His eyebrows furrow and he raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Get in the car.” His arms cross over his chest and you see the way his suit tightens around his thick arms and the way he can't be bothered with you. It's enthralling and you almost jump into the car.

Aaron's car is sleek with black leather seats and a clean brown etching throughout. He has some soccer stuff in the back seats for Jack, but if anything it's extremely clean for a single father and a five-year old son. Your hand caresses the slick marble look of the Cadillac. Aaron opens the door to the car and turns it on. He puts his case in the back of the car. His head throws back to the seat and he adjusts his hips. Aaron's thick hands pull at his tie and loosen it. You're admiring the older man and the way he looks heavenly in the lights of the car.

Your hands fall to your thighs and you slowly squeeze them to let out your feelings from your face. His hand goes to your thigh and slides into your inner thigh and his thumb rubs gently. He can't dare to turn the radio on to take away the thick silence that wraps around your heads. You're desperately trying not to look at where his hand is as you feel his pinky finger slowly inch to just where you want him.

His name falls from your lips like poison, and Aaron wants all of it.

“Stop teasing Aaron— please touch me..” You stare up at him when his fingers caress the seam on your tight slacks. You open your legs further, and you look over and he doesn't even dare to rip his eyes from the road. His hand pushes away to the waistband of your pants. You unbutton and tug down your pants. He looks over for a second and sees the soft pink underwear you decided to wear that day.

Aaron plays with the small bow on the panties, his hand running across the waistband once more. Eventually, his hand slides in, and he falls to the most sensitive part. Small figure eights he draws on your clit as you mewl out to him. Your hips slide to the feeling and you grab onto his other hand. You can't understand how he has no reaction, and continues stares with a straight face at the empty road in front of him.

Aaron begins to finger you, only one finger inside before he adds another. Your hips grind against his hand and the pleasure almost becomes overwhelming, with the movement in your clit and him fingering you. The thick coil in your stomach is on the edge of snapping as your hips start to push instead of grinding against his hand. “I—I’m gonna cum!” You mumble out and before you know it, you cum with a snap of your hits and a cry.

“Good girl.” Hotch tells you, that voice that can make you cum just from the sound coming out. It's gravely and makes you feel warm everywhere, if you weren't already. Eventually, he pulls into his first class neighborhood, something he had worked for. The neighborhoods where houses have fountains and decorative trees surrounding.

The sleek black car pulls into his house, the garage door opening and letting him in. He shuts the car off and opens your door. Aaron lifts you in his arms, wedding bride style, and takes you inside his house. It's extravagant with huge chandeliers and tall walls and ceilings. He sets you down in the large kitchen island, your ass hitting the cold marble.

His hands reach up your white button and slowly massage your breasts through the lacy draw you decided to wear that day. Your head drops against his shoulder and you kiss gently against his neck. “I want you to fuck me, Aaron.” You tell him staring into his eyes through your eyelashes, pulling on his tie. Aaron lets out a groan and he picks you up on your thighs.

Aaron takes you to his bedroom and you swear it's bigger than your apartment. The bed is king-sized, and only takes up a small part of the room. He practically throws you against the bed, and you bounce on it, before he throws your thighs open. God, you may be strong, but he's making your muscles soft and your thighs shake.

You sit up and unbuckle the belt on his pants and unbuttone his pants and shrug them down. He's big, the tent in his pants is bigger than anything else you've seen. Maybe the 20 year olds you've hooked up before are just not the right ones, but Aaron was girthy. You pull his underwear down and his cock flings out, and you can't help but let your mouth open up.

You let your hand run up and down on his dick, rubbing his tip with your thumb. You spit in your hand, and jerk him off more, sucking softly on his top once more and licking off the precum. Aaron's hand goes to the back of your head, holding you against his dick. You mumble out once more whenever you fly up to kiss his lips and say: “I need you to fuck me now, I've already said it.”

He pushes you down against the pillows and jerks himself off a little more before opening your thighs. Aaron puts his dick in the right place and slides into you, and you cry out as he bottoms out against you. Your arms go around his neck and grab on before he slowly moves in and out. You cry out his name once he starts moving quicker, finding the pace that made you cry out the most and scratch your nails against his back.

“So good! Please Aaron, harder!” You and Aaron are clashing hips, the sound of your body hitting against each other is all you hear. He pulls your legs up on your shoulders, readjusting you until it's comfortable, and he fucks you harder than he already was. You're crying out his name as you cum and the stickiness falls throughout your body and hits the bed, but rubs against your hips and ass.

Aaron cums a few minutes later, with a groan into your neck. You're holding onto each other while your chests fall up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. “Fuck— that was amazing.” Is all you can say, and Aaron agrees. He clasps his lips against yours and you clash lips dangerously. He falls against you and you hold onto each other. Your eyes become heavy with sleep after the wild night and you fall asleep against his shoulder.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotch smut #criminal minds smut #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader smut #aaron hotchner x fem!reader

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afro-hispwriter · 2 years

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Letters(Aemond Targaryen)

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader

Summary- Aemond and daemons daughter have been secretly seeing each other and sending letters and at the dinner aemond asks for her hand shocking everyone and making daemon furious.

Warnings- angst, daemon just trying to be a good dad;(

Request by anonymous

wc- 1.6k

When a crow landed on the stone of your window you jumped out of your bed. You took the wrapped letter off its claw and it flew off. You tore the ribbon off of it and opened the little paper.

My love,

I've received news that you will be coming to Kings Landing to sort out the issue with Driftmark. Words cannot begin to describe how excited i am to see you again.

From your lover,

You practically jumped up and squealed. It had been so long since you've seen any of your family that resided in Kings Landing. But of course you were more excited to see Aemond.

The carriage ride into Kingslanding was uneventful. There weren't people on the sidelines cheering for the arrival of the Blacks. They announced your arrivals, you didn't see Aemond anywhere. He said a long time ago in a letter saying he now wore an eyepatch. But you haven't caught sight of your eye patched cousin.

They advised you and your siblings to see ser Criston who was currently training on of the princes. You walked quickly to the yard.

"Slow down sister, no need to rush." Jace said with a sly smile. He was the only one who knew about Aemond. You scoffed at him but slowed down. You saw a crowd and heard swords clashing. As you got closer you day the wiping of white hair flying around. You pushed through people and some glared until they noticed your white hair and averted their eyes. The person fighting Ser Criston was tall, and moved swiftly. He blocked Cristons weapon and moved around to a crouch letting you take notice who it was.

Eye Patch. Aemond.

He looked over the crowd until his eyes fell upon you. But he turned his attention back to Cristion and decided it was time to stop playing around. It quick ease Aemond disarmed Criston, still holding his

"Well done Aemond, you'll be winning Tournaments in no time." Said Criston and Aemond scoffs.

"I dont give a shit about tourneys. Nephews. Cousin. Have you come to train?" He asks and sets down his sword. He turns to you and your stepbrothers but his eyes stayed on you. Jace looked shocked and immediately shook his head.

"Only if you will be the one doing the training." You say and raise an eyebrow at him and he smirked.

"It depends." He said and sheathes his sword and starts stepping towards you. "Are you up for the hard work?" He stopped in front of you and leaned down so your faces were close together. "Because I guarantee you, you will be hot and sweaty in the end along with pain... in so many parts of your body." He whispered the last part in your ear and you shuddered. "I missed you."

He didn't let you respond before he left you there, flustered and wanting. Jace and Luke looked at you with raised eyebrows.

"Im not sure Daemon would like what we just saw." Said Luke and you roll your eyes and shove him playfully.

Viserys requested the family have dinner together and you didn't know if you were dreading it or looking for to it. The Greens were already at the table waiting foe the Blacks. You sat on the end of the table next to your father with Baela and at the other end sat Aemond. A maid came and filled your cup with wine and you picked it up and looked at Aemond. He raised his towards you and brought the cup up to his lips. You did the same but smiled behind your cup.

This action didn’t go unnoticed by Rhaenerya, she smiled slightly at seeing her stepdaughter and half-brother interact.

Dinner was served, Alicent gave a prayer and after that. Everything went well. Everyone talked like nothing ever happened, they laughed with each other. Alicent and Rhaenerya actually struck up a conversation. Aemond wasn’t saying anything just continued eating and drinking, but he kept glancing at you at any given chance. Eventually he stopped eating and just stared at you. You felt his stare and looked up to him. He cocked his head to the side with a sly smile, you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion but there was amusement placed on your face.

“What?” You mouthed but he didn’t do anything. Your father noticed who you were talking to and took notice to your face, he nudged your foot with his, bringing your attention back. Aemond drowned the rest if his wine and suddenly stood up, making all conversations stop and look up at him.

“I have something to say, well more ask my dear Uncle.” He says and Daemon leans back in his chair and squints his eyes. You look at Aemond in confusion, not knowing what he needed to ask your father. “For the last few months I’ve been sending letters to your oldest daughter, your beautiful Y/n.” Your eyes widened.

“Aemond.” You say and Daemon looks at you with now wide eyes.

“I’ve developed a love for her.” Aemond stopped right behind Daemon and Daemon couldn’t look at him just tightening his jaw. “So I want to ask for her hand in marriage.” Everyone stayed quiet and waited for Daemon to react but Viserys answered first.

“I think thats a mighty fine idea.” He said and coughed. “It would surely help secure our bloodline more, and as well help end this feud before it grows into something bigger.” Still nobody said anything but you watched Daemon grip his knife.

“Father-.” But you were to late to stop him. He had Aemond on the ground with a knife to his neck.

“How dare you ask for my daughter’s hand? Do you think I haven’t heard the rumors? Why would I put my daughter in danger?” Aemond gulped and licked his lips.

“I would never hurt your daughter, I wouldn’t dream it.”

“Daemon.” He heard Rhaenerya’s soft voice behind him and a hand on his shoulder. He slowly pulled back and stood up, you ran to Aemond side and bent down next to him, Alicent appearing as well.

“Are you ok?” You ask him and inspect his neck. He nods and waves you off. You then look up at your father to see Rhaenerya calming him down. You stood up and angrily walked to him. “Why does everything have to be violence with you? Why cant you just talk like a normal human being!? Why cant you be happy that I found someone I love?” You sped off after that leaving everyone in shock.

Aemond stood up and tried to follow you but Daemon stopped him.

“No. I’ll talk to her.” He said and nodded to Rhaenerya who nodded back and gave him a smile. He went of to go find and comfort his child.

He knew exactly where you were. When you lived in Kings Landing you always spent your free time in the gardens. He heard sniffles coming from the direction of the fountain.

He saw his daughter hunched over with a flower in her hands.

“Y/n.” He says and you whipped your head around to your father.

“Why are you here?” You ask and wipe you eye. Daemon sits down next to you.

“Im sorry, for what I did.” He says and you look at him in shock. “Sorry for how I reacted, you’re right i shouldn’t have handled it that way.” He placed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in close. “I will give my nephew my blessing to marry you.” You raised your head to him with an open mouth.

“You’re serious?” You ask and he nods. You stand up and smile brightly down at him. “Thank you.” You bent down and kissed his cheek before running off but before you could get far his fingers wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back.

“Just know, if he hurts you, trust that no one will be able save him.” He says and his face goes back to seriousness.

“You wont regret it father.” You ran inside the castle, running through the halls. You saw Alicent walking quickly down the hall. “Queen Alicent!” They turned around and immediate concern flashed on their faces.

“Child whats wrong?” Asks Alicnet and places her hands on your shoulders.

“Wheres Aemond?” You say out of breath and she cocked her head to the side.

“Training outside.”

“Thank you.” You say and run outside to the training area. You heard grunting and loud sounds of wood getting hit. You saw Aemond whipping around flawlessly. “AEMOND!” He turned around at the scream of his name.

“Y/n?” You jumped into him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“He said yes, he’s going to give you his blessing to marry me.” You say and and pull back. And for the first time in a long time Aemond smiled, this time with love. He dropped his sword and grabbed your face and slammed his lips down on yours. You both closed your eyes, melting into the kiss. He opened his eyes for a split second to check his surroundings and saw Daemon, standing by the entrance with his hands in front of him, smiling that his daughter found love.

The following week you were marrying Aemond in the traditional Old Velaryon way. Cutting your lips with dragon glass, followed by your hands and held them together, then wiping a stray of blood on each others foreheads. A kiss was shared, your bloods mixing in your mouths, signifying the security of another bloodline and also one of the few marriages done for love.

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen

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odinsblog · 2 years

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Lmao. Twitter user georgina4781 is like, “I hope future generations judge you by the same social standards” — aka: being against white supremacy, Apartheid & imperialism that destroyed the lives of literally MILLIONS of Black and indigenous peoples. And they said that shit with their whole entire chest out! You and your pesky “modern standards” of …. *checks notes* …. not enslaving entire countries and depleting said countries of valuable material resources.

Look, Imma let everyone in on a little secret here: throwing down the, “BUT THEY DIDN’T KNOW ANY BETTER BACK THEN” excuse is 💯bullshit. But white people can be counted on to stay eating it up. Because that false framing serves a purpose.

Are we really and truly expected to believe that absolutely noooobody back then had any inkling that things like slavery, colonialism and Apartheid were evil? Nobody at all back then knew it? C’mon now. See? More “white innocence” bullshit. You think Jeff Bezos doesn’t know that people dying in Amazon warehouses is easily preventable and him not taking precautions to avoid more deaths is “bad”? People know wrong now, and they knew it back then. Still not sold? Okay, how about this: if nothing else, the Black and indigenous people being colonized knew it and expressed their views, but colonizers intentionally ignored them and did not listen to them. And I’m pretty sure we won’t need to search very hard through history books to find white people who knew it was wrong too. Just because their voices did not prevail doesn’t mean that “everyone back then” somehow did not know better. Many knew better and simply did. not. care. Kinda like Jeff Bezos right now.

When we accept the false premise that “they just didn’t know any better back then,” we are allowing a form of whitewashing history to happen — we are allowing today’s racism deniers to deftly delete the agency of colonizers, and replace their cruelty and greed, with innocence. And POOF! Just like that, the myth of white innocence is maintained, and the cruelty and greed behind all imperialism is parsed, equivocated and whitewashed away into something less heinous and more palatable.

And the thing white people seem to call “bringing up the shitty parts of history” is literally what everyone else, under ordinary circumstances, refers to as the truth, but apparently everyone is supposed to stay quiet so that colonizers and their beneficiaries can continue whitewashing history and continue pretending that it wasn’t really that bad, or advise everyone to just “get over it” because was “a long time ago,” or eventually argue that it never happened at all.

I’ll let you in on another secret: white people who want to downplay & deny racism love to throw racism into this far away safe space called, “the past”. I’m reminded of an old saying that goes something like, “your grandfather may have chopped down the tree, but we are still suffering from no shade today because of his actions.” An incredibly bad paraphrase on my part, but the point is, Uju Anya is a survivor of war and genocide caused by recent colonialism, and the person who was instrumental in that - in chopping down the proverbial shadetree - just died. Uju Anya is still experiencing the loss of diaspora caused by Queen Elizabeth’s kingdom, and telling her how to process her very real and very current grief is so presumptuous that I would need to live a million years as a white person to even begin to comprehend how presumptuous that is.

White fragility is a hell of a thing. But demanding that the still-living and still-impacted descendants of imperialism just shut up so that European whites don’t have to be reminded of their queen’s active role in colonialism … that’s strait up bullshit.

Apparently American conservatives aren’t the only ones upset with honestly talking about theories critical of racist systems.

Sending out much love to Uju Anya, who is now having Jeff fucking Bezos, one of the richest white men in history, and others harass her and lecture her about “kindness” and “respectability politics”.

#politics #uju anya #queen elizabeth #white fragility #whitewashing history #revisionist history #imperialism #colonialism

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soberscientistlife · 1 year

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‘I Want To Do My Part’

When the USS Gregory sank in 1942, a mess hall officer named Charles Jackson French dragged a raft full of his wounded crewmates to safety through shark-infested waters.

Born on Sept. 29, 1919, Charles Jackson French spent his early years in Foreman, Arkansas. At the time, Black and white pools were segregated, making it difficult for Black people to find opportunities to learn to swim. Swimming World Magazine speculates that French may have learned to swim by visiting the city’s stone quarries and the Red River.

However he learned to swim, French’s days in Foreman were numbered. After his parents died, he left Arkansas and moved in with his married, older sister Viola in Omaha, Nebraska. And by the time he was 18, French decided to strike out on his own and enlist in the U.S. Navy

The Navy, like swimming pools across the country, was strictly segregated. As a Black man, French had virtually no other choice than to work as a mess attendant. In that capacity, the U.S. Navy Office Of Information reports that French spent four years the USS Houston, serving meals to the white sailors, cleaning their tables, and keeping the mess hall spick and span.

French returned to Omaha when his deployment ended in November 1941, but he wouldn’t stay in Nebraska for long. After the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on Dec. 7, 1941, French promptly re-enlisted.

“I want to do my part, because I’m already trained and I can start right away,” French said at the time.

He had spent his last tour cruising around the Pacific. But this time, Charles Jackson French would see significantly more action.

On Sept. 5, 1942, the USS Gregory and the USS Little were attacked by Japanese destroyers around 1 a.m. while patrolling the waters near Savo Island and Guadalcanal. The U.S. Navy Office Of Information reports that the Gregory, outgunned, sank after just three minutes. Its surviving men were plunged into shark-infested waters as the Japanese fired on them.

But French leaped into action. The 23-year-old helped injured sailors onto a makeshift raft and — when U.S. Navy Ensign Robert Adrian told him that the current would pull the raft toward a Japanese-occupied island — volunteered to jump in the water and pull the raft in the other direction.

Adrian told him it was impossible. French, according to Adrian, replied: “Just keep telling me if I’m goin’ the right way.”

He shed his waterlogged clothes, tied a rope around his waist, and started to swim. For the next six to eight hours, French tirelessly swam as sharks got so close that they sometimes brushed against his legs. At sunrise, an American scout finally spotted him and the others and sent rescue.

But French’s ordeal didn’t end there. As he later recounted, as recorded by Chester Wright in Black Men and Blue Water, French and other uninjured soldiers were taken to a rest camp by their rescuers, who wanted to separate French from the white sailors. To French’s surprise, the sailors insisted that French stay with them as a fellow member of Gregory’s crew.

“Them white boys stood up for me,” French emotionally told Wright.

The story of Charles Jackson French’s heroism was later made public by Adrian, who described it on a radio program called It Happened in the Service in October 1942, according to Swimming World Magazine. Adrian had never learned French’s full name — he and the others only knew him as “French” — but he fully credited him for their rescue that day.

“I can assure you that all the men on that raft are grateful to mess attendant French for his brave action off Guadacanal that night,” Adrian said.

The story was soon picked up by the national news, and Charles Jackson French was identified by NBC. He was celebrated across the country, featured in a comic strip, and lauded by the Black press.

Adrian “and other white Americans owe their LIVES to a black man whom he identified as a ‘mess attendant named French,'” the Pittsburgh Courier, a Black newspaper, wrote after French was identified.

The newspaper continued: “Although Mess Attendant Charles Jackson French of Arkansas was not in a heroic job, he MADE a heroic job out of it. He who had been looked down upon as a caste man, frozen in status, suddenly was looked up to as a SAVIOUR.”

Though rumors spread that Charles Jackson French might be awarded the Navy Cross, he was given only a letter of commendation from Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr., the then-commander of the Southern Pacific Fleet.

French may have been denied the medal because a Silver Star was awarded to one of his superiors — and it was unprecedented to award a higher medal to a subordinate. But the Omaha World-Herald noted some decades later that future president John F. Kennedy had been given the Navy and Marine Corps Medal for a similar act of bravery.

After his service on the USS Gregory, Charles Jackson French didn’t rest on his laurels. He returned to his role in the mess on the USS Endicott and the USS Frankford, and witnessed D-Day and the invasion of southern France.

After World War II ended, French faded from the public eye. Black Past reports that he suffered from alcoholism and depression, and passed away on Nov. 7, 1956, in San Diego, California. He was only 37 years old.

But since then, there’s been a push to give this forgotten World War II hero his due. In April 2021, a post about French from the International Swimming Hall of Fame revived his story. And a year later, Rear Admiral Charles Brown, the Navy public affairs officer, presented eight of French’s relatives with a posthumous Navy and Marine Corps Medal — just like Kennedy’s.

“It will inspire generations of sailors,” Brown said at the medal ceremony, reported by the Omaha World-Herald. “It’s a story of the best of who we are.”

French has been honored in other ways, too. A training pool at Naval Base San Diego was named after French, and a post office in his hometown of Omaha also bears his name.

Black History Month Day 24

#black history facts #black history month #blackhistory #black lives matter

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sirfrogsworth · 10 months

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Storytime...

A long time ago there was this thing called redlining. White people didn't want Black people living in their neighborhood. So Black people were forced to live in the poorest areas with the lowest wages.

Yes, they banned redlining. But stopping something does not necessarily fix the damage that was done. It did not magically give Black folks higher wages so they could move into better areas. They were basically stuck. They were unable to build up generational wealth. So their children were also stuck in those poor areas with low wages.

Redlining created a cycle of poverty that still exists to this day.

Public schools are funded mostly by property taxes. If you live in an area with expensive property, there will be more money to fund local schools. If you live in an area with less expensive property, your local schools will not have the ability to properly fund themselves.

Poorer areas have more crime. They pay their teachers less. So they have a huge issue recruiting qualified teachers. They cannot provide students with all of the tools they need to succeed. No computers or current textbooks. Schools in warm areas will not have air conditioning. Some in cold areas will have inadequate or broken heating. The building infrastructure may be falling apart with leaky pipes and dysfunctional bathrooms.

Distraction after distraction makes it a difficult environment to learn.

Kids in poor areas are also more likely to be food insecure due to food deserts and sometimes they lack free school lunch programs. Hungry kids do much worse in school. It is hard to concentrate when you are hungry.

So in order for a Black student to succeed in an underfunded school they have to overcome the following variables... hunger, less qualified teachers, lack of school supplies, deteriorating facilities, outdated textbooks, lack of educational technologies, and they are poorly educated about sex and drugs. Many can easily fall victim to addiction and the consequences of sexual activity. They are also overpoliced and overdisciplined. Often getting suspensions and expulsions for the same behaviors as white students who only get warnings or detention. They get suspended 4 times as much.

Under those circumstances, even the brightest and most hardworking kids might struggle to reach their potential. Their grades will suffer. Their test scores will be lower.

On paper, they don't look like a good candidate for admission.

Affirmative action was a way to give those kids with potential a second chance at a good school. Recruiters could judge the students on other variables. They could take into account all of the educational obstacles. And they could admit people who probably would have thrived if they were born in a different zip code.

If someone goes to a good school and has good grades and test scores, they will find a place to get a higher education. Maybe not their first choice. Maybe not a fancy Ivy League school. But they will get a good college education *somewhere*.

If someone went to a bad school and had no chance at achievement... without affirmative action they might not get into any college at all.

If Republicans want to level the playing field, perhaps start with public school funding. (And stop voting against lunch programs for chrissake.)

Until that happens, ending affirmative action will make the cycle of poverty that much harder to break.

#long post

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 3 months

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Love and Liabilities: Chapter Three (Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Upon starting your last year of law school, imagine your surprise when the woman from your one night stand turns out to be your professor.

Word Count: 6.1k

Tags: 18+ Minors Do Not Engage!! Light sexual situations (very light)

A/N: Hello! I got a bit carried away with this chapter, but I’m battling a head cold so I’m just posting all of it. I’d like to warn that I am: 1) not a lawyer & 2) not a law student (yet 🤧)… so I did some brief research on things, but I am not an expert!! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feel free to let me know what you think. Thank you for reading!

Tag-List: @aggieslittleslut @gilmorelivie @harknessshi @neverfindmegone @ris-ris-mind @sabstance-blog @tr333sus

There was a special moment in every person’s life that made them reconsider all of their past choices. For you, that moment happened while sitting in the middle of a lecture hall, wondering how the hell the woman from your first one night stand turned out to be your professor. If this was the universe’s way of being funny you were seriously missing the joke.

Agnes, no, Agatha, you mentally corrected yourself, was passing around a seating chart, and you were fixated on her every move around the lecture hall. There was something so hypnotizing about her, but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was. The most obvious answer, of course, was that she had just fucked your brains out a few days ago, and the hormones were clouding your judgement. Flashes of her body pressing yours into the mattress as she whispered pure filth in your ear, driving you to an orgasmic high had you shifting uncomfortably in your seat. As if she could read your thoughts, you noticed her inquisitive eyes meet yours. But as quickly as she graced you with her attention, she looked away.

“Now, I know most of your professors use syllabus week as an excuse to put off lecturing, but we’re going to be diving right into the corrupt, filthy world of criminal defense law.” Agatha’s voice rang out through the lecture hall, and you saw a few of your classmates' shoulders slump at her words. “The purpose of this class is to make you question your morals; to rethink any existing ethical values you currently hold.”

Agnes-Agatha, was so well-spoken, and you found yourself hanging onto her every word. Her perfectly painted red lips were mesmerizing to watch as they twisted to form various syllables, and you were having a rather difficult time focusing on her lecture.

Standing in the center of the hall, Agatha held her hands by her side, and you watched her fingers slipping inside her pants pockets. “I want you to take every preconceived notion you have regarding criminal defense and erase it. When you’re a criminal defense attorney, it doesn’t matter if your client is innocent or guilty. It doesn’t matter if they are on trial for petty theft, or for first degree murder.”

She turned her attention to the PowerPoint being displayed on the huge screen, and you, alongside your very disgruntled classmates, pulled out your laptops to take notes. “The biggest mistake you can make in the courtroom is taking the time to care if your client actually committed the crime. That doesn’t matter. I don’t care what any professor or prosecutor will tell you; ignore them. We don’t care if someone is a criminal, but we do care about the motive. Why would someone commit a crime of that nature? What would lead them to have to behave that way?”

A few of your classmates appeared surprised at the professor’s words, but Agatha continued on. “To win over a judge or jury you need to not only be able to rationalize, but clearly justify why the motives lead to the actions of the accused. Nothing in life is ever black and white, there’s always an obscene amount of gray mixed in.”

Leaning back against her desk, Agatha clicked through the slide show. “Now, I don’t typically begin this until a few weeks into the semester, but you’re all 3L’s, yes? You should be up for a challenge on the first day.”

Not waiting for verbal confirmation, she pushed herself off the desk, pointing to someone sitting in the front row. “I see my seating chart is still floating around somewhere so, you, what’s your name?”

A petite girl with sleek blonde hair pulled back in a braid apprehensively looked at Agatha. “Blair Lange, Professor Harkness.”

“Well Miss Lange, you’re going to be my prosecutor.” Agatha gave her a rather menacing smirk. “If you’d join me, please.”

Looking around the room, she spotted the seating chart and went to retrieve it. Her eyes scanned the page, and you were captivated with the sight of her long index finger tracing along the various rows filled with names. “Hmmm, let’s see.” Agatha drawled out, voice sickly sweet like honey. “Who’s going to be my next victim?”

It seemed the universe was keen on laughing at you today, as you heard her call your name, slowly drawing out each syllable. Lovely. Rising from your chair, you felt dozens of pairs of eyes on you as you descended the stairs, but there was only one set that you were focused on. Agatha was observing you with an indecipherable expression on her face, and you felt your cheeks deepen in color at the prolonged eye contact.

“So class, we have our prosecution, and our defense,” She motioned to you, signaling for you to come closer to her, and she handed you each a packet. “I’m going to be the judge. I want you both to look at the following slides I have printed detailing the case and determine how you would have handled this.”

Blair’s face paled at that, and you couldn’t blame her. Cold calling was intimidating enough, but a mock trial on the first day was not exactly how you imagined starting your morning. There were a lot of misconceptions regarding law school; a lot of law students, yourself included, had no interest being in a courtroom. Corporate law dealt with complex contracts and deals for major companies, something you preferred working with. This was nowhere near what you wanted to practice, but it seemed Agatha simply didn’t care.

Agatha strolled back to her desk, leaving you both to read the information provided to you. Flipping through the pages, you noted how the case involved a woman being charged with attempted grand theft and attempted assault of the business owner.

From a first glance, there didn’t seem to be much for you to even argue. The defendant was a former employee of the aforementioned business, and had been fired mere hours before the incident. But, there were a few interesting details. The defendant had no priors, and, from what you were reading, multiple eyewitnesses reported the business owner pulling a gun on them. Your eyes were locked on one particular paragraph, and you remembered what Agatha had just said, about obscene amounts of gray.

Blair, for her part, looked fairly uncertain, and kept casting nervous glances towards the professor. Agatha ignored her, and after a few moments she clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s begin. Now, all I want from the two of you is to have a lively debate on how you would take the information given to argue your side. You don’t have to use the argument given on the page, you can choose a different route if you have sufficient evidence to support. Miss Lange, why don’t you get us started.”

Clearing her throat, Blair looked down at the papers, and you noted how her hands were so unsteady they were shaking. “Right. Well I would argue that the prosecution proceeds with both attempted grand theft and assault against the defendant.”

Rolling her eyes, Agatha let out a deep sigh. “Miss Lange, I’m not asking you to read verbatim what is on the sheet in front of you. When looking at court documents, it is essential to not only be able to read what is given but to be able to put it in your own words.”

Blair kept her eyes glued to the page and Agatha shook her head in disapproval. “Fine, I’ll let it slide for now. If the defense could keep us going, let’s keep it snappy.”

Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Agatha. “The defense is pleading not guilty to attempted assault and grand theft.”

You noticed Blair looked up in surprise at your statement, as that was not printed in the court documents, while Agatha merely raised her eyebrows, turning her attention towards you. “Not guilty? Why?”

“The plaintiff stated in their testimony that both the attempted assault and grand theft were unprovoked, but the defense is arguing that both of these allegations have mitigating circumstances that I’d argue are grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Blair shuffled the papers around, and she appeared uncomfortable. “Professor Harkness, that’s not listed anywhere in here.”

Agatha held up a hand, signaling for Blair to stop talking. “Defense, if you could proceed.”

You could feel butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach as you realized you were taking a rather large leap in judgment. “On behalf of my client, I’m looking to not only have these charges dropped, but to formally charge the plaintiff with wrongful termination.”

“Does the prosecution have anything to add?” Agatha questioned, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’m not sure where to even begin, Professor.” Blair admitted, and you felt a quick twinge of pity for her, briefly wondering if perhaps you should dial it back.

Agatha frowned, and you could immediately tell she was displeased with that answer. “You don’t know where to begin? That’s the answer you’re going with?”

Blair remained silent, and Agatha took a deep breath. “My, my, you’ve completed two years of law school and you don’t know where to begin. Is there anything constructive you can add to this debate, Miss Lange?”

Stammering, Blair shook her head, looking anywhere but at your professor. “No, I don’t.”

“Disappointing.” Agatha admitted, and her eyes narrowed, pointing to the door. “Get out.”

Your classmate’s eyes widened, and you felt that twinge of pity grow even larger.

“Professor Harkness, please. I didn’t-” Blair stammers.

“Get out of my class. Now.” Agatha repeated, her tone growing more agitated with each word. “And don’t come back until you’re adequately prepared.”

The hall was dead quiet, and you were too shocked to know how to react, or if you even should. Nearly all of your classmates were dumbfounded as well, this wasn't a normal occurrence in classes. A lot of your former law professors were strict and had extremely high expectations of their students; endless hours of case studies and readings, roasting students who froze during cold calls, you name it. However, you had never witnessed one of them kick a student out of class, least of all during syllabus week.

To her credit, Blair left with a lot more grace than you could have mustered in her shoes. She swiftly grabbed her belongings and hurried out of the lecture hall, the sound of the doors slamming shut reverberated across the walls.

Agatha paid no mind to the noise, her focus was entirely on you, deep blue eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “There is no direct evidence suggesting that the plaintiff is guilty of wrongful termination, is there?”

Your eyes flickered between the papers in your hands and the alluring woman in front of you. “Not in those exact words, no.”

Agatha let out a low hum, taking a small step closer to you. “So you’re basing your argument off of what exactly? Intuition?”

A few of your classmates snickered, but you ignored them.

Shaking your head, you tried to muster any remaining confidence you could find. “No. I’m basing it off the written testimonials by four different employees, stating that the defendant showed up late on the day of the incident because they were at a previously scheduled doctor’s appointment.”

“But there’s nothing to support that the defendant was fired because they were late. Much less, that they were wrongfully terminated for it.” Agatha skillfully argued, poking holes in your theory with ease. “How do we know that they didn’t have a history of showing up late to work? Having an incomplete argument guarantees the prosecution will tear you to shreds, you need something more absolute.”

“That’s true.” You admitted, and took a pause before adding, “I think the defendant being pregnant makes things a bit more absolute though, doesn’t it?”

Agatha’s face remained expressionless as she slowly raised her left arm up, index finger tapping against her cheek. “Is that a question or your statement?”

Without hesitating you replied, “My statement.”

“And how do you plan on proving that the defendant was not only fired due to their pregnancy, but that both counts of attempted grand theft and assault should be dropped?” Agatha questioned, and it looked as if she was actively trying to restrain herself from stepping closer to you, but surely you were imagining that.

“The defendant had absolutely no priors, and they don’t have a history of being fired from previous employers.” You pointed out, setting your papers down on Agatha’s desk. “They had previously cleared coming in late in order to go to a scheduled doctor’s appointment, and it was stated that when they showed up to work that the plaintiff fired them. Written testimonials from multiple employees stated the plaintiff said it was unacceptable for the defendant to show up late, despite them approving the time off.”

Agatha’s lips pursed as she processed what you were saying. “You’re making an awful lot of assumptions. What of the attempted grand theft and assault?”

“Grand theft in the state of New York starts at $1,000. The defendant showed up at the business after they had been wrongfully terminated to request their pay from previous days worked, which would come out to around that amount.” You explained, hoping you had the right number. “As for the quoted attempted assault, no eyewitnesses noted the defendant raising even a finger to threaten the plaintiff. The latter, however, was seen pulling out a gun on the defendant, completely unprovoked.”

“And if the plaintiff claims it was self defense?” Agatha fired back with so much zest that you wondered how much she was enjoying this debate.

Tilting your head, you pondered her words. “Self defense against an unarmed pregnant woman? That won’t hold up well with the jury.”

“You’re certain this is the argument you want to back?” Agatha tested you again, her index finger moving from her cheek to lightly stroke her bottom lip, and you found yourself hypnotized by the motion. As if she could sense your distraction, her ever red lips tilted up to form a slight smirk.

“I’m certain.”

Her eyes bore into yours, searching for any hesitation or uncertainty. You held your own as much as you could, ignoring the flip flop of your nerves. Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting, she gave you a single nod, turning her attention back to the rest of the class.

“Not bad.” Agatha offered, and you immediately let out the breath you had been holding in. “A few of your arguments would have been thrown out, but you certainly appear to have the stamina for the courtroom.”

She gave you a subtle raised eyebrow at the last part of the sentence as you lightly blushed, confirming your suspicions she had most likely selected you on purpose. Heading back to your seat, you listened to her drone on to the rest of the class that everyone would eventually end up in the hot seat before the semester’s end.

“And it appears we are all out of time for the day.” Agatha announced, and nearly everyone let out a sigh of relief at that. “Come prepared to debate the best way to prepare an opening statement.”

Everyone eagerly filed out of the hall, but you lingered, slowly putting away your belongings. A few of your classmates congratulated you on surviving Agatha’s ruthless interrogations, and you merely offered them a brief thanks. Agatha also appeared to be in no hurry, as she leisurely shut down her laptop. You debated on if you should talk to her, if you should address the elephant in the room that you were both dancing around. Walking down the steps of the aisles, you were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you tripped on the last step and went flying forward.

Before you tumbled to the floor, swift hands wrapped around your waist and shoulder, helping steady you to the ground. As you went to thank your savior, you were surprised to find Agatha standing in front of you, bag dropped at her side.

“You’re always this clumsy, hm?” Agatha lightly quipped as she examined you. If you didn’t know any better you would say she was concerned. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” You assured her, thankful she had been there to catch you. “Could I talk to you?” Looking around the room you noticed most of your classmates had left but you carefully added, “About the discussion in class?”

Agatha hesitated, and you wondered if you pushed too far, but after a moment she nodded. “I have some time now, my office?” She walked away before you could reply, swinging the doors open. “Try to keep up, and be careful not to trip.”

It didn’t take long for you to realize Agatha Harkness was quite feared in the law school. You lost track of the number of students who averted their gaze and scurried away as soon as they noticed her rounding the corner. It was almost amusing, at least Agatha seemed to think so, as she looked quite smug on the walk to her office. You made the trek in silence, and it eerily reminded you of a similar encounter you had shared with her only a few days prior. Upon reaching the office, Agatha quickly unlocked it, ushering you inside.

Agatha’s office was relatively spacious for a law professor, with high vaulted ceilings and large windows that allowed plenty of light in. The walls were adorned with large bookcases, filled to the brim with various titles ranging from Greek classics to biographies of different Supreme Court justices. She had a plethora of plants scattered around, and you learned from spending enough time in Maria’s office that Agatha knew how to properly water them. There was a large desk situated near the windows, with a high backed mahogany chair at the head.

Agatha took a seat, and pointed to two smaller seats on the other side of the desk. “Sit, please.”

You did as she instructed, taking note of the rather expensive looking whiskey near the corner of the desk as well as a few books the professor appeared to be reading. When you looked at her, you were unsurprised to find her curiously gazing at you.

“I assume you don’t actually want to discuss today’s class?” Agatha guessed, amusement evident in her tone.

“Not exactly.” You admitted, feeling another rush of nerves course through your system at finally being alone with her.

“Oh? Whatever did you want to talk about then?” Agatha bantered, leaning forward across her desk as she gave you an expectant look.

“Agatha…” Trailing off, you cleared your throat. “I mean, Professor Harkness.”

Frowning, Agatha reached her hand across the desk to brush against yours, chuckling as you jumped at the contact. “Just Agatha when we’re alone, dear.”

Nearly ripping your hand from hers, you folded them across your lap. “Professor Harkness, I really don’t feel comfortable calling you by your first name under these circumstances.”

Raising her eyebrows, Agatha leaned back in her chair. “Under what circumstances? After I just fucked you a few days ago and you just found out I was your professor?”

“Don’t say that!” You hissed, looking over your shoulder as if someone could have heard, despite the door being firmly shut.

“Honestly, dear, you aren’t the first girl to have slept with her professor, and you certainly won’t be the last.” Agatha stood up, walking over to an electric tea kettle she had on a bar cart. “Tea?”

Stunned by her casual response, you were at a loss for words. “You’re seriously asking me if I want tea?”

“Well I would ask if you would like some whiskey but I know drinking this early in the day is typically frowned upon.” Agatha jested, but upon noticing how upset you appeared she backed off. “Honestly, you didn’t know I was going to be your professor, I had no idea you would be walking in late to my lecture hall. No harm, no foul. No one has to know what happened.”

Her words made enough sense, and you reluctantly nodded. “I guess not.”

“It was just a one night stand, it didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things.” Agatha added, turning on her tea kettle, fingers raking over various mugs. “We can just forget it ever happened.”

You knew she was right, but you were surprised to find how much her words stung. “Right, well I’m glad we were able to clear that up.” Standing up, you grabbed your bag. “I shouldn’t take up anymore of your time. Thank you again, Professor Harkness, and I’ll see you in class.”

If Agatha was surprised by your abrupt exit, she didn’t show it. She nodded, pouring herself some tea. “It was my pleasure, dear.”

Leaving her office, you told yourself that you could relax and that Agatha was right, you could just forget that it ever happened.

Only it turned out the more you tried to forget something, the harder it was to put it out of your brain. The rest of your day was spent zoning out in the library. While you had wanted to get a head start on your hours of readings, instead you kept remembering the feel of Agatha’s body against yours, the taste of her tongue in your mouth. The feel of her long fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, her hot breath in your ear telling you how good you were for her. It was embarrassing, really.

Agatha made it quite clear in her office that it was a one night stand, and that it didn’t have to mean anything in the long run. But she continued to invade your every thought, until you inevitably lost track of time. The hours ticked by, and you knew studying in your apartment wouldn’t be any better. You normally had no trouble shutting out the rest of the world to focus on your class work, but there was something so magnetic about Agatha Harkness. This was wrong, and crazy, and you knew it. You had only spent one night with this woman, you barely knew her. But she was addictive, and she had somehow managed to rot your brain in the process.

Just as you finally started to get into your reading, you heard your phone ding. Letting out a disgruntled sigh, you shut your books for the evening and grabbed your phone, deciding it would be best to just try again in the morning. Scrolling through your notifications as you got ready to leave, you almost dropped your phone as you read the newest email in your inbox.

Not sure if you’re still on campus, but if you are, feel free to drop by my office. A few things I wanted to discuss from today’s class. -A

It was nearly dusk, and you watched the sun slowly begin to set over the Manhattan skyline, filling the sky with colorful hues of oranges, pinks, and purples. There were still plenty of people in the library, as a number of students had night classes, and you were frozen. Did Agatha know you were upset when you left? Was she going to ask you to drop her class?

As if you were in a trance, you mindlessly walked to the professor’s office, keeping your head low. You could feel your heartbeat, pounding so loud you feared it might explode through your chest as you reached her closed door.

Knocking twice, you waited for her captivating voice to tell you to enter. Upon doing so you found the woman who had taken over your every waking thought leaning against the windowsill of her office, sipping on a glass of what you presumed to be whiskey.

“Shut the door.” Agatha immediately requested, not offering you any other sort of greeting.

Gently closing the door as you entered, you lingered, unsure where to go or what you should do.

Agatha finally looked at you, and motioned to the whiskey on her desk. “Would you like a glass?”

“It’s probably best if I don’t.” You declined, once again remembering the last time you were drinking around her. “Thank you though.”

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha stated, setting her whiskey on the windowsill. She said it calmly and so matter of fact you almost wondered why she bothered saying it at all.

“I wasn’t upset.” You disagreed, but she gave you a pointed look in return as if to say bullshit.

“You were upset by what I said earlier.” Agatha repeated, stepping away from the windowsill. “Why?”

“I…I don’t know.” You replied, the lie burning like acid on your tongue, causing you to wince.

“You don’t know?” Agatha mimicked your words, and she seemed agitated as she began to walk towards you, closing the distance little by little. “You don’t know why you were upset?”

“Professor Harkness, I really don’t see why we have to go over all of this again-” You started to say until you were rudely cut off by a loud cackle.

“For an aspiring lawyer, you have an absolute shit poker face.” Agatha informed you, swarming in; you shivered as you were suddenly standing so close together that you were nearly face to face. “Why were you upset?”

Your face grew red from her scrutinizing gaze, and that only egged her on. “I think we both know why, don’t we, darling?” Leaning in until she was close enough to your ear, she leaned in to whisper, “You wanted me to fuck you again, didn’t you?”

“Professor Harkness, I…” You breathed out, feeling yourself grow dizzy, and you couldn’t remember anything but her name.

“I thought I told you to call me Agatha.” The professor gently reprimanded you, as her hand came up to cup the back of your neck, and you could smell the whiskey in her breath. “Just Agatha.”

As her tongue parted her luscious red lips, you lost any remaining functioning brain cells and closed the distance between you, frantically kissing her. Agatha tangled her fingers in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. The professor was kissing you with fervor, and you slowly found yourself melting with every passionate movement of her lips. Her tongue slowly, teasingly, sought entrance to your mouth, which you granted without a second thought. You let out a series of quiet moans as her hands moved lower to cup your ass, greedily groping, and she chuckled at your reaction.

“So easy for me.” Agatha softly murmured against your lips, pulling back just enough to lead you to lean back against her desk.

You wanted to argue that no, you weren’t easy for her, but you both knew that was a lie. Her hands moved to remove the scarf you had been forced to wear as a result of the multitude of hickeys she had adorned your body with, and you watched her eyes darken at the sight.

“Well you certainly bruise easily.” Agatha teased, tracing every mark with her fingers, the overwhelming sensation causing you to whine. “And still so responsive. Fascinating.”

Thousands of thoughts were circulating in your brain, and every touch from Agatha made it harder for you to focus. Her lips attached to the side of your neck, immediately alternating between sucking and biting, lightly kissing each new mark she left. At this rate you were going to have to ask your roommates if they had any scarves you could borrow. Just as Agatha went to unbutton your pants, there was a loud thumping noise from the hallway, and you both leapt apart.

Panting, you felt a spike in your anxiety at the thought of being caught like this, even though rationally speaking you knew no one could possibly know what you were doing in here.

Agatha seemed to be having similar thoughts, as she straightened her jacket, clearing her throat. “Perhaps this isn’t the best place to continue this. Could I invite you for a night cap?”

In an attempt to get your breathing under control, you shook your head. “No, I think that would be a mistake.”

Shooting you a perplexed look, Agatha strolled over to the windowsill to pick up her whiskey. “A mistake? If I correctly recall you just kissed me, did you not?”

“You came on to me first!” You argued, and your brain appeared to be regaining consciousness as you remembered why this was such a bad idea. “I can’t risk this ruining things.”

“Someone certainly thinks highly of themselves.” Agatha dryly retorted, finishing off her whiskey and pouring herself another. “And what pray tell do you think this,” she motioned to you before continuing, “will ruin?”

“I have a job offer for next year.” You explained, and mentally cursed yourself for your lapse of judgment. “They never said fucking my professor would cause me to lose it, but I don’t think it would help my case.”

Agatha’s eyes shifted at that comment, and she let out a sigh. “And you’re worried about what, exactly? That we’ll give ourselves away and this unimportant firm will care so much about your deviousness that they’ll drop you?”

“It’s Stark & Strange.” You bluntly corrected her, not caring if you were being rude. “And I can’t really afford to fuck that up.”

You didn’t mention how literally you couldn’t afford to mess this up. Law school was expensive, and while you were granted a few scholarships to cover tuition, you still had to take out hundreds of thousands of dollars of loans. Plus not to mention the extra thousands you would have to spend in order to prepare for the bar. You were thankful your summer associate position paid so well, as you were able to pay for the majority of your rent for the year, but you weren’t exactly flush with cash. Working in corporate law would practically guarantee you opportunities you could never dream of having otherwise.

“Tony Stark is a dick, and I know for a fact he’s committed sins far worse than sleeping with his professor.” Agatha unhelpfully offered, but she appeared to sense how upset you were as she finally walked back over to you, setting her glass down on her desk before rubbing your shoulders. “No one is going to find out, dear. There’s really nothing to fret over.”

It was surreal, how one touch from her practically set your body ablaze with want. It was clear you were unable to control yourself when you were around the older woman. The thought of having to sit in that large lecture hall three times a week, watching her and obsessing over her every little move felt almost unbearable.

Hesitating for a brief moment, you moved your eyes to look at anything but her. “I think I need to drop your class.”

“Absolutely not.”

Frowning, you looked back to find her staring at you as if you said something incredibly stupid. “Why not? You have plenty of other students.”

“They’re morons.” Agatha insisted, rolling her eyes as if it was obvious.

Snorting, you shook your head at how dramatic she was. “Today was only the first day, how could you possibly know that?”

Agatha’s right hand gripped the desk, while her left absentmindedly played with your hair, gently stroking it. “I can just tell, I’m rather gifted that way.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “And apparently very humble as well.”

Blue eyes sparkling, Agatha continued to twirl strands of your hair. “You have a lot of potential as a defense attorney. I saw it today during class. There’s a lot of fight in you, and passion. That’s not something that can be taught.”

Blushing at the compliment, you shook your head. “Thank you, but I really have no interest in being in a courtroom.”

Shrugging, Agatha dropped your hair, taking another small sip of her whiskey. “It never hurts to keep your options open.”

“I just don’t think this is a good idea.” You continued, keeping yourself grounded to reality. “I can’t…control myself around you.”

“But that’s half the fun, darling.” Agatha taunted, but showed you mercy as she went back to sit in her chair. “It’s ultimately up to you, but I think it would be a mistake to drop the class.”

Following her lead, you sat across from her, fidgeting your hands on your lap. “So what, then? We just avoid each other outside of class?”

Agatha shook her head in disagreement. “Too juvenile. Besides, that would just make it easier for us to give into temptation.”

She put a special emphasis on the last word, giving you a salacious grin, and you wiggled uncomfortably in your seat before you eventually responded. “I’m not seeing any other solutions besides me dropping your class and trying to get in another.”

“It’s far too late for you to get a spot in anything half decent.” Agatha insisted, and you knew she was right. At this point you’d have to take an extra class in the spring, and pay more money than you could currently afford. “Besides, I already have a solution.”

You looked at her, surprised at how quickly she had come up with something. “You do?”

“We’ll make a contract.” Agatha simply stated, and you stared blankly at her.

“A…contract?”

The professor deeply sighed, running her fingers back to unpin her hair, the dark curls messily framing her face. “Honestly, dear. Didn’t you spend the summer fawning over those big bad attorneys at Stark & Strange? Yes, a contract. We’ll each put our terms in and come up with an appropriate way to navigate this until the semester’s end in thirteen weeks.”

A contract. Hm. It was a bit cliche, sure, but you couldn’t think of anything better.

But still, you were curious to what extent Agatha intended to try and make this work. “What exactly would we be putting in the contract?”

Agatha shrugged. “This and that. No sex, obviously.” She gave you an inquisitive glance. “Unless you feel differently?”

Flashes of her fingers curling and twisting inside you had you squirming again. “No, I think that’s definitely necessary.”

Grinning like a cat that ate the canary, Agatha smugly replied with, “I thought so. Given your particular lack of self control, perhaps we could eliminate anything…carnal, hm?”

Glaring at her, you wondered where she got the audacity. “I don’t think it’s just me that’s lacking control, but that’s probably wise.” Another thought crossed your mind, and you quickly added, “Then again, we never did discuss the Agnes of it all, did we? Do you really think you’re important enough to need to give people a fake name?”

“You’re quite cheeky for someone who was practically begging me to fuck her in my office.” Agatha shot back, and shook her head. “Do you not give yourself an alias when you talk to strangers?”

Enjoying the banter, you gave a thoughtful expression before eventually saying, “No, I don’t think most people do that.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes, and she seemed unamused. “Safety, dear. For all I knew, you could have been a serial killer.”

You gave her a wide, innocent smile. “No, I just turned out to be your student.”

“You're not supposed to make jokes.” Agatha informed you, swirling the remaining whiskey in her glass. “Most lawyers aren’t funny.”

Ignoring her, you changed the subject. “And what is going to happen at the end of the semester?” You curiously eyed her, unsure what her response would be, or even what you wanted it to be.

“We’ll reevaluate of course.” Agatha explained, before adding with a smirk. “That is, if you pass my class.”

“Of course.”

“So do we have a deal?” Holding her hand out, you quickly realized she wanted you to shake it.

You reached out to firmly grab her hand, and her fingers intertwined with yours, blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

“We have a deal.”

Releasing your hand, she pulled out a post-it note, messily scribbling something down before sliding it over to you. “That’s my cell and personal email. Send me your terms by tomorrow night and we’ll put something together.”

Taking the post-it, your eyes scanned the writing before carefully pocketing it. “Right, thanks. I guess I should be going?”

Nodding, Agatha stood up to walk you to the door. Meeting you halfway, she carefully wrapped the scarf back around your next, tugging on it slightly and grinning at the shiver you let out. “I look forward to doing business with you, dear. See you in class.”

Exiting her office, your fingers fumbled through the pockets of your jeans until they felt the post-it note, and you wondered what the hell you just got yourself into.

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness #marvel au #agatha harkness fanfiction #agatha harkness x female reader #lawyer au #agatha all along #agatha darkhold diaries

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decolonize-the-left · 2 months

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Okay, I'm also a little on the confused train. I vote third party and independent in my local elections when their policies (as they often are) are better than the local democrats. I vote for some local democrats when they, as in my community they happen to be, black activists who organized the entire of the blm movement in my city and then moved to campaigning for city council and stuff. I participate in mutual aid, I use my free time to bake bread for, and then deliver the bread and naltrexone to unhoused encampments. I advocate for every school in my area to teach actual native history. I distribute land back and esims for gaza pamphlets all over my city. I volunteer at soup kitchens a couple times a month, ect. I "donate" monthly "rent" to the tribes on whos land i live. I am currently at the least protest voting uncommitted in my states primary.

But like, I do bump up against... I don't want to vote for Biden. But if Trump wins, he's states he's going to put his everything into not only the genocide in Palestine, but hella racist internal policies beyond what we already have, stripping voting rights, stripping any existing social safety nets, removing anit hate crime protections, ect

So like. Yes. I am thinking about how indigenous communities would be impacted, at least in the short term. Among many others.

My final vote isn't decided yet

Do you really think it will prevent harm to vulnerable people to risk another trump term?

Not trying to be an asshole, asking you bc I respect you

*scare quotes are to imply that I think that language is shallow and not useful but I don't know what else to say

Please don't block me I'm being completely sincere about being deeply empathetic to your anger and share in it, but also confused and scared about the right course of action and the reasoning behind it

My opinions stem from my own organizing and activism.

I think it's going over a lot of heads that the same way we organize for landback or BLM and leave zines around to have progress in dismantling those, we ALSO need to be organizing behind 3rd party candidates to dismantle the 2 party system.

Like how helpful would it be to Any of those causes if someone said that instead of organizing for landback or donating or helping houseless people you should just vote for Biden?

That'd be ridiculous. Biden doesn't have any intention of significantly helping with any of those things and he's no substitute for the activism that's being done or still needed right?

So why are we as organizers accepting this logic when it comes to one of the most powerful positions in the world?

Why are we settling and saying he's the "realistic" choice and accepting it when we Know there are other options and avenues because we've Already worked in them?

I don't understand this and if You could shed some light I would in All Honesty appreciate it.

It's ACTUALLY confusing as hell to me that people I respect and work with and see as peers and comrades think that harm reduction is the best way to vote. It's confusing that instead of advocating for other avenues and educating people about other options or working for 3rd party campaigns or leaving educational zines around throughout election cycles and campaigns..... They say they're just gonna vote for Biden.

Yeah Trump sucks. I'd never deny that. I'd never deny he's dangerous. I just Also don't see how Blue Fascism is different from Red Fascism. It's all fascism and idk why we think Blue Fascism is an acceptable trade off when we literally Do Not have to keep making this trade.

The fact so many of us regularly feel like we don't have a choice is a testament to democracy already being dead, you know? Idk what we're saying 'yeah but the other fascists could be worse so let's just keep our heads down' as leftists.

I'm gonna be very real here, my concern is the future of humanity at this point. Point blank. White supremacy is an evil ideology that has harmed every person it touches while also making sure they help perpetuate it. In the last 5 years I've watched Nazis come back, several genocides, climate change and the death of winter, and police kill a man trying to protect a forest. Our president is more concerned with his campaign than the people he's killing or the families he's exploiting to do it.

Someone is going to have to risk something in order to stop a machine this big from killing all of us. The earth my child is going to inherit is going to be unrecognizable to me. She'll be lucky if she's never a climate refugee, just as it's Only luck that she's here in the first place after the USA tried to kill off the native Americans.

My concern is Everyone. And I know it seems backwards as hell to risk something so awful, but sometimes you have to make sacrifices to have something better.

I'd give anything to save my daughter from the future she's currently on track to inherit. And that doesn't mean that I don't love her. It's a testament to how much worse I genuinely believe things will get if we continue down this path accepting anything As Long As It's Not As Awful As It Could Be.

We would lie down and Vote to have robot dogs surveil our neighborhoods for immigrants and drag queens at this point "as long as it's not trump" and doesn't that terrify you more than he does?

It terrifies me.

There's no way that's harm reduction when we are NOT being harmed that way right now. That's Increasing the harm. A harm guarantee that you were tricked you into signing under threat of something worse.

#asked #answered #electoral politics #trump #leftist #socialist #anarchist #communist

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neuvillettes · 2 years

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killshot | d. ragnvindr

summary | the knights of favonius celebrate their new recruits at angel’s share tavern and one of them happens to catch the owner’s eye.

pairing | diluc x fem!reader

warning | swearing, smut, degradation, spitting, dacryphilia, mean diluc, virgin!reader, thigh riding, oral {fem recieving}, exhibitionism, gagging, plugging, panty stealing, heavily unedited, i think that’s everything rip

wc | 4.3k

a/n: i am incapable of writing smut without a plot rip. pls don’t come at me for it >.<

noisy. they were all being too loud. although you guess that was par for the course for the, now, drunkards you call colleagues. most of you had just been initiated into the knights of favonius, so your superior, cavalry captain kaeya alberich, insisted on taking you all out for drinks in celebration. initially you’d declined, not one for drinking, but he insisted. kaeya was unusually persistent about it, in fact. wanting to stay on his good side, you caved. now everyone was about 3-4 drinks in and you were currently regretting your decision to join.

you huff in annoyance as you relocate yourself to the bar, trying to get away from the noise without just outright leaving. not a moment later, kaeya is very loudly asking for you and you sigh again, trying not to roll your eyes as you watch the tall man saunter over to you. you make an effort to look unbothered by his presence and by the beaming smile on the captain’s face you seem to have succeeded.

“what’re you doin’ over here, fair knight?” kaeya leans on the bar while facing you, brow raised questioningly.

you let out a soft chuckle. “ just taking a breather, not much of a drinker and i can only take so much of those drunkards. i’ll come back in a bit.”

kaeya’s attention is momentarily taken by something else behind you before his eyes connect with yours once more. “promise?”

“yeah, promise. now go, before the other recruits do something stupid.” you shoo him as he mumbles something about not being a babysitter.

you observe them for a moment, everyone flocking to kaeya, you couldn’t imagine attracting that much attention, perfectly content with being in the shadows. kaeya, however didn’t seem to mind the attention. he even seemed to thrive on the admiration being thrown his way by the other recruits. your roll your eyes, do they have no shame? admiration is one thing, but outwardly throwing yourself at a superior like some of them were was borderline pathetic.

you sigh, wishing you had a buffer here with you. you weren’t particularly close with any of your colleagues. you tended to keep to yourself, or at least you tried. it was hard to keep attention off yourself when the cavalry captain had some sort of special interest in you. he was always admiring your form and dedication to training. you never understood it, you never thought you were any better than the rest of the recruits. kaeya alberich baffled you.

“the cavalry captain seems to have taken a liking to you, fair knight.” a silky and deep voice states from behind you.

you swivel in your stool to find the most stunning man you’ve laid your eyes upon. his fluffy, long, fiery red mane is pulled up into a high ponytail, loose bangs framing his face. his ruby eyes are piercing, glowing like the embers of a fire. he’s wearing a white vest over a partially unbuttoned black dress shirt with short sleeves that are rolled up to showcase his surprisingly large biceps. your stomach twists in knots just at the sight of him.

it takes you a moment to come out of your stupor to absorb what the bartender had said and you furrow your brow. “it does seem that way, doesn’t it?” you sigh while you pick up your cup to finish off your juice.

“oh? you’re not interested?” he notices your empty glass and goes to grab an unlabeled wine glass.

you’re quick to correct his actions. “ah- i’m actually drinking-“

“grape juice. don’t worry, i noticed. kaeya was very insistent with charles and i about making a glass of juice every time he came over for another round. i took note of who it was going to, just in case someone else came for drinks. this-“ he holds up the bottle, “is from my personal stash, kaeya is aware that i keep a case of hand made grape juice here.”

you blush at the thought of him paying attention to you. “i’m so sorry. i shouldn’t have assumed…”

“i’ll be the first to admit, it does look deceivingly a lot like wine. you didn’t answer my question earlier.” he raises an eyebrow at you.

you scrunch up your nose in distaste. “you caught on to that, huh? i’m not sure i’m inclined to answer that, seeing i don’t even know your name.”

“diluc. i’m diluc ragnvindr. it’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

your eyes widen at the name. you were quite familiar with it, having a mother that grew up in mondstadt. “you’re… uhm- yn ln. it’s nice to meet you as well.”

diluc watches a blush creep up onto your face, a blush his former brother was unable to make appear. despite his contempt toward the captain, diluc had to admit, kaeya had taste. you intrigued him, but more importantly, you intrigued kaeya. that made diluc want to toy with all the more.

“have you heard of me?” diluce easiy smiles and it seems to make you even more nervous.

you can’t help but to look away from his piercing gaze. “i might have heard a thing or two about you from some of the more seasoned knights. kaeya has even mentioned you by name a few times.”

“hope it was nothing bad.” the way you say kaeya’s name so easily, with a smile on your face makes diluc grind his teeth. you were so sweet and innocent, it made him want to absolutely ruin you. just then the group of knights become rowdier and burst into loud laughter and shouting. the red head observes as you cringe at the rise in volume and tap your fingers on your glass.

“you know, if you wanted to get away from all this noise for a moment, i could show you to the upstairs area. i close it off for private events like this.” your face brightens up at the mention of getting some actual peace, away from prying eyes.

you nod enthusiastically. “that would actually be amazing. i’m not one for all this noise. so to be able to escape it for a few moments? i think i’ll take you up on that offer.”

diluc nods at you with a grin before whispering something at the other bartender. the older man gives diluc a knowing look, that the both of you miss as he escorts you towards a roped off staircase. you make sure kaeya, or any of the other knights aren’t paying any attention to you as you slip away to the second floor with a man you just met. you didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.

diluc has other ideas, however. as you ascend the staircase diluc sneaks a glance at kaeya, who just happened to be looking up in that direction, they lock eyes before kaeya’s attention is drawn away by the disappearing figure behind the former knight. diluc puts the rope back in place behind him before following you up the stairs with a smug smile. leaving kaeya downstairs to chug the rest of his wine, feeling defeated.

you didn’t know what you were expecting, but seeing diluc join you surprised you nonetheless. “oh, are you sure you want to stay up with me? i’m rather boring…”

something in the man’s demeanor has changed. it made you nervous and excited all at once. diluc strides over to you and you stumble into a table. he traps you as he leans in and places his hands on either side of you, making himself eye level with you.

“you know what’s annoying?” his voice is lowered, almost husky as his breath fans over your face. you lean back and look up at him through your lashes.

“w-what is?”

diluc hooks his finger under your chin and runs his thumb across your cheek as his eyes wander to your parted lips. “that my fraud of a brother gets to work with someone such as yourself, someone so absolutely gorgeous, every day when he doesn’t deserve it and you deserve more.”

“brother? kaeya’s your…?” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, this being the first time you’ve heard of any relationship between the seemingly polar opposite men.

the man luring over you chuckles condescendingly. “you must not be from mondstadt originally, most everyone here knows my father took kaeya in when we were children. to an outsider, however, since we are no longer close, they wouldn’t know. so, pet, where are you from?”

“a-ah… that obvious?” you chuckle nervously at the name. a blush rises to your face as his scent of cinnamon wafts over you and lingers in your nose, intoxicating you, “i’m from…fontaine, b-but my mother… she’s originally from mondstadt. she taught me to fight and- and when i got my vision…i made the decision to follow in her footsteps and become a knight of favonius.”

diluc hums and pulls away from you, but he clearly has no plan of letting you go. he pulls you with him and before you know it, he has you stumbling into his lap, straddling one of his thighs as he sits with his legs spread out. you make a noise of surprise and he laughs through his nose. his hands engulf your hips and his warmth invades your very being.

the dawn winery tycoon is more intoxicating than any alcohol you could drink in this tavern. he was dangerous, and yet, you found yourself giving in. your mind is going fuzzy like the very drunkards loudly cackling down below you, all you can think about is him and you stare at his lips, wondering what they feel like, what he tastes like, how sultry can he really make you feel?

diluc pushes you further into him, as if he can hear your thoughts, and glances at your mouth before leaning himself in the rest of the way and captures your lips. the kiss is heated and rough, he takes no time in trying to be gentle with you and you don’t try and stop him. the grip diluc has on your hips tightens, bruisingly so. he moves them to bring you as close as he can.

the friction causes you to whine out in surprise, the feeling of your clothed cunt grinding on his thigh sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. diluc smirks into the kiss and takes the opportunity to sink his tongue into your mouth and teases your own. he moves your hips back and forth a few more times before you begin to do it on your own. between the stimulation of his thigh and his mouth you can’t help but to let out whimpered gasps.

your hands are planted on his broad shoulders, bracing yourself as you move desperately back and forth. your fingers gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, knuckles lightened from the pressure. you detach your mouth from diluc’s, throwing it back as you heavily pant, trying to catch your breath as you muffle your noises.

diluc snickers. “didn’t even have to keep moving you, pet, you just started doing it on your own. you just that desperate, hm? look at you panting like a bitch in heat, it’s so pathetic. look at me.”

he lets go of one of your hips to grab your jaw and forces your head down to look at him. you’re gaze is unfocused, eyes glazed over in pleasure. diluc’s words fall on deaf ears as you’re close to reaching your first climax. you let out another whine ashis grip on your jaw tightens and his other grip shoves you down harder on his thigh.

“master diluc- sir, p-please…” you’re not sure what it is, exactly, that you’re asking for, but diluc does.

his lids flutter at the name you utter while babbling, and it makes him snap even further. he squeezes your cheeks roughly. “open up. now.” he orders.

you utter out, “yes, sir, but- fuck- gonna… gonna cum, ‘m s’close. please….” before you do as you’re told, unable to miss the authority in his voice. you open your mouth, instinctually sticking your tongue out for him.

diluc hums, “so good for me, fair knight. take this first, then you can cum, alright?”

the red head doesn’t wait for your response as he tilts your head back and hovers his face over yours once again. he lets a string of spit fall into your mouth and your eyes widen at how lewd the action is. when the saliva hits your tongue you let your eyes roll back at the taste of him. he holds your mouth open letting the rest messily spill in. the last of it trailing off and drooling over your lip. diluc notices and licks up any excess then lets go of your face.

“swallow.” diluc demands and as you do so, the tightening coil inside of you finally snaps and you release a garbled moan. doing as he told and barely being able to wait to let yourself reach your peak. in your euphoria you slump over and bite into diluc’s shoulder in an attempt to mute your noises. it’s not very effective but it’s enough to keep your noises from reaching the tavern patrons below. diluc hisses at your noise canceling methods but can’t help the way his cock twitches at the feeling.

you’re still reeling from your orgasm as diluc cups your ass and picks you up. you gasp in surprise as the sudden movement catches you off guard. within the same moment, you’re being laid out on the table you were previously sitting at. despite having come down from your high, your mind is still foggy and it takes you a moment to fully register what’s happening. that is until diluc’s hands are traveling up your body and hooks his fingers at the waistband of your spandex pants that, in diluc’s mind, don’t leave much to the imagination.

as diluc peels back the clothing, exposing your skin and glistening cunt, you immediately shut your legs. you’re not used to someone gazing upon your most intimate parts. it made you weary, yet, you didn’t want to stop. diluc catches on to your actions and furrows his brow. he’s silent for a moment as the two of you just stare at one another. then something akin to a light bulb turning on brightens up diluc’s face in realization.

his voice is incredulous as he speaks, “what’s this? my fair knight, have you never been touhed before”

a blush flourishes on your features and you find it hard to keep eye contact. you turn your head in embarrassment and bring the back of your hand up to cover the bottom half of your face. “the opportunity- it’s n-never arisen, no….”

diluc hums and you see him lower to his knees from the corner of your eye. you look over to him in surprise as he grips your thighs and pulls you into him. his mouth level with your core. you can feel his warm breath fanning over your needy cunt and you squirm.

“w-what are you…”

diluc raises a brow at you in amusement. “i need to make sure your properly prepared before you can take my cock, pet.”

your eyes widen at his words. “diluc…”

“i much prefer the name you called me earlier.” he tuts, giving you a look of playful disappointment.

your eyebrows scrunched together before what he meant hits you. “sir…”

the tycoon hums in approval and darts out his tongue to lick a stripe up your drooling cunt. your hands immediately fly to his mane and tug. you’re given another hum of approval and you don’t have time to worry whether you were pulling too harshly. he repeats his previous ministrations before pulling back and scolding you.

you whine at the loss of contact, eyes flying open to gape at him. “you’re far too loud. those drunk knights down there are going to hear how much of a whore you really are. do you want that?” you shake your head. “then keep it down, or i’ll have to shove your underwear in your mouth to shut you up myself.”

you almost let out a whimper but narrowly manage to keep it in as diluc dives back in. this time his tongue is focused solely on your clit. your nails scratch at his scalp in anticipation as you feel one of his fingers poke at your entrance. he plays with your hole, gathering at much slick onto his finger as he can. when he’s satisfied with how wet his fingers are he slowly sinks one into you.

your toes curl and back arches at the feeling. diluc smiles proudly at your reaction, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly. you can’t help yourself, you let out a string of whimper moans. his finger starts pumping in and out of you at a slow pace, he’s making sure to curl the digit and rotate his wrist, focusing on touching every inch inside of you.

your grip on diluc hair tightens as he continues to explore your ticks. your whimpered moans turn into desperates ones as you feel another finger prodding at your entrance. the stretch you feel as diluc pushes the second finger into you is divine. you almost scream out. the pain of the stretch as he rubs along your velvety walls makes your head spin in the best way possible.

you let out the most sinful moan and it has diluc growing impatient as his already strained cock twitches and leaks in his pants. “diluc- sir- fuck, feels s’good… want more, please, please, please. need more of you s’bad.”

your babbling is slurred and diluc can tell you’re getting close. he leans back, mouth detaching from your clit and pumps his fingers into you a few more time before removing them as well. you let out a whine at the sudden end to your pleasure. looking up at diluc, suddenly alert, you watch as he stands up and fumbles with his pants.

the questioning look on your face dies when he successfully unbuttons his trousers and let’s them, along with his underwear, drop to the floor. he let’s a sigh of relief as his cock is finally set free. you stare at it and gulp at the sheer size and girth. your head spinning once more at the thought of him even fitting inside of you.

you look up to diluc, barely having registered that he’s moved in closer with something balled up in his fist. you’re pouting as you voice your concerns. “will-will it even fit?”

your bottom lip is trembling in anticipation and diluc coos. “of course it will, pet. don’t worry, i’ll be gentle. at first. now, as much as i would love for kaeya to hear how much of a whore you can be for me, i don��t like the thought of anyone else being able to hear those pretty noises but me. so i need you to open up for me again.”

your eyes widen at his crude words but open your mouth nonetheless. diluc reveals that the thing he had crumpled up in his hand was your panties. he grins wickedly at your gaze and stuffs the material into your mouth. “you look so pretty like this, cunt drooling and on full display, mouth gagged with your own panties. you look so scandalous, fair knight, and to think you’re only a virgin. don’t worry, pet. i’ll make sure to absolutely ruin you.”

diluc runs his shaft through your folds, mixing your juices with his and collecting them onto his cock. his thumb is pressing into your swollen clit and he makes just enough friction there to have you squirming. you let out muffled whimpers and pleas. diluc lines himself up with your entrance and halts for a moment to look at you earnestly. he shifts himself and interlocks his hand with one of yours.

“if it’s too much, squeeze my hand twice, i’ll stop.” you’re caught off guard by his change in demeanor. your heart melts at his concern and you nod, trying to convey your appreciation through your eyes.

“just relax for me now, okay?” diluc slowly sinks the head of his cock into your tight hole and your back arches and eyes prick with tears as the sting of the stretch engulfs you. diluc is true to his word and takes his time bottoming out. your breathing heavily as he stills and slowly the sting subsides and turns into pleasure.

“fuck- you’re so fuckin’ tight, pet. feel s’good wrapped around my cock like this. you ready for me to start moving?” the red head hums and looks to you expectantly. your eager to nod your head and he chuckles. “such a desperate little knight, huh? even though i just took your innocence, you want more. greedy, aren’t we? so pathetic…”

diluc pulls almost all the way only to snap his hips back into yours. you let out a muffled scream, not fully prepared for the sudden movements. now that you had adjusted, diluc didn’t waste any time with properly fucking you into the table. his cock bullying into your cunt harshly, hips crashing with yours as his pelvis brushed against your clit.

diluc reaches over to sneak an arm under your and pushes them up to press against your chest. he has you folded into a mating press and the new angle has the tip of his cock stumbling into your sweet spot with every thrust. you’re letting out muffled cries, tears flowing down your cheeks as the stimulation is almost too much.

diluc groans as quietly as he can as he feels you start to clamp down on his length. you squeeze his hand that’s still holding yours to warn him that you’re close. “gonna cum again for me? already that close, pet? just hold on a little longer for me. gotta cum with you. just hold on…”

diluc is starting to babble as he gets closer to his own release. his hips movements begin to stutter and become sloppy. your back is arched and eyes blurry with tears as you try to plead with him to let you cum. it doesn;t take long for diluc to get to the edge with you.

his words the final push you need. “gonna cum now, cum with me, be a good pet and come with me- fuck fuck fuck…”

your walls spasm and you let out a muffled wail as you come crashing down. your orgasm making your vision go white. diluc’s cock throbs as he spills his seed into your pulsing cunt. he continues to languidly thrust, stimulating you through your highs and fucking his cum into you. your completely spent as your vision returns.

diluc slumps over and onto you with a grunt. he looks up at you and reaches out to remove the cloth from your mouth. you let out a gasped pant, trying to catch your breath. diluc peppers kisses along your jawline before pushing himself back up and finally pulling out of you. he watches as some of his cum spills out of you, he collects it with your panties and stuffs them into you to plug you up. your jolt at the action, feeling far too sensitive.

diluc chuckles breathily. “sorry, darling. can’t have you making a mess of the taverns table now. wait right here for me. i need to get you some water and something to clean you up with. i’ll be right back.” he leans down and places a tender kiss to your forehead, then the tip of your nose and finally your lips. when he pulls back, he waits for a response and you simply nod.

diluc dresses himself and fixes his ponytail that you had successfully ruined with all your tugging. he disappears down the staircase and reappears a few minutes later. a damp towel and glass of water in hand. he carefully removes your underwear, stuffing them into his pocket to keep. he cleans you up with the warm towel and helps you put your pants back on. he sits down and pulls you into his lap once more before handing you a glass of water.

you thank him and greedily drink from the glass. “you know, kaeya approached me while i was down there.”

you look at him curiously, urging him to go on. he chuckles at how cute you look right now and tucks away a loose strand of hair from your face. “he asked me if you were feeling alright, apparently he heard some groaning.”

you splutter and almost choke on your water as diluc barks out a hearty laugh while patting your back soothingly. you wipe your mouth and look at him wide eyed and flushed. “w-what did you tell him?”

“i simply told him that your stomach was hurting. he seemed to believe it or, at the very least, that’s what he wanted to believe…” he grins at you mischievously.

you let out a dejected groan. “for my sake, i hope he actually did believe you.”

“don’t think i would mind if he didn’t. have to let him know somehow that you’re mine now and he can’t try and play with you anymore.”

you scowl at the tycoon but there’s no malice behind it. “yours? i don’t remember agreeing to that and i’m not sure i would.”

“come home with me tonight, let me change your mind with a few more rounds and breakfast in the morning.” diluc rests his chin on your shoulder and looks at you expectantly.

you make the mistake of looking at him, unable to say no to a face like that you sigh, knowing well that you’re going to cave. looks like you were going to have to break your promise of coming back to kaeya.

#diluc x reader #genhsin impact #diluc #genshin impact x reader #diluc x fem!reader #one shot #fem!reader

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