#also i have that weird rule about the words 'I love you' only being allowed if they make things worse. WTF is with that??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fariesoiree · 4 months

Text

ever since you’ve became friends with hobie, he makes your insides feel all weird. he’s got to know what this feeling is. he can probably help you with it, right?

caution! mdni 6k wrdz, mentions of religion, reader is super sheltered, set in a college setting, black fem reader, fingering reader receiving, oral reader receiving, corruption kink mayb just barely, hobie is real gentle, everything happens on a desk, blushing is described but can’t be physically seen, unrealistic description of coochie juice we all know it doesn’t actually taste like that hobie is just obsessed, the smut section is a littleeee bit short but i def think i could expand on this in the future pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

hobie has been a good friend of yours for a few month now. it all really started at a party at the college you attend. with it being your first year, every experience is a new one. your sheltered childhood only further added to it.

it was easy, hobie always claims, to tell you didn’t belong when you stood in the room, eyes wide and frantic. not to mention, you were fully dressed in jeans and a sweater. he didn’t understand how you hadn’t passed out, yet.

he walks up to you that very same night. your panic only became more evident when he’s introducing himself. “you alright, love?” and he’s truthfully concerned. you’re nearly shaking, hands clasped together.

you explain to him what happened. that the group of girls you came with disappeared, that you don’t know anyone here, that you’re extremely overwhelmed.

it’s hobie who leaves the party early, despite enjoying himself. he escorts you back to your room and stands outside your door until it’s clicked shut and locked. he also leaves his number in your phone that night with the innocent promise to help you with whatever you need.

the reaction from your parents is expected when you tell them what happened. you receive a scolding for going to the party and indulging in secular music and sin, as well as trusting a man and allowing him access to your room. you can argue that you didn’t invite him in but your parents won’t and don’t listen.

you’re used to it, used to their lectures that you actually heed their warnings. all your life you’ve been living by their rules. no boys and no parties. church every sunday, home at nine. you’ve even accepted the routine phone checks every night with no back-talk. this has been your way of living since forever.

so of course the big, gentle, temptation himself intrigues you to no end when you’re presented with such an open gateway. you’re sure if your god-fearing parents saw him, they’d have a heart attack right on the spot.

six five and exactly what your parents warned you against. piercings galore, stick and poke tattoos decorating his skin. his hair is assorted into wicks, which you don’t mind but your relatives would have called him sloppy. not to mention the clothes he wears, decorated in spikes and chains. sometimes the gems in his belt catches the sun in just the right way and he glows like an angel.

hobie gives you butterflies and not just in your stomach but in other places as well.

you don’t know what to do about the fluttering in your pussy when hobie’s had grazes your thigh when he bends to pick something up. even the word pussy has your face warming up.

at first, you thought it would be a one time, unrelated thing. the wet mess in your panties shocked you after spending your evening with hobie. you made a mental note to stop by the doctors in case it was something serious and went about your night.

and then it happened again and every night since. coincidentally, you’re with hobie every night, only to return to the safety of your dorm and deal with the same heated feeling.

that’s exactly how you find yourself in this dilemma tonight. you’re as quiet as a mouse, strewn across his bed. the strip led lights cast a blue shadow on the room. hobie is across from you at his desk, clicking around in some music making site you wouldn’t even try to comprehend.

his headphones are over his head, stretched to the biggest setting to accommodate his hair and his fingers, nails painted black, tap against the wooden desk. hobie can’t hear you with the noise filling his ears. he hums softly to the beat.

you’ve been staring at him for a while, now. originally, you were working on some homework due that night but your gaze found him and his sharp jawline that’s just barely visible from the diagonal angle he’s sitting.

before you know it, your eyes have wandered downwards until you’re looking at his legs, wide and manspreeding. your downstairs area does that weird pulsating thing.

you lips form into a pout and you shift to remove the discomfort. you never actually made it to the doctor, having realized this is only something you experience around hobie. despite this unusual situation find yourself in, distancing yourself from him wasn’t an option. oddly enough, he’s one of the few people that didn’t make you feel other.

“come listen to this.” hobie swivels in her chair to face you. he pops the headphones off his head and waves you over. “was thinkin’ about submittin’ it as my project.”

you sheepishly shake your head. your cheeks burn at the possibility of him catching you. “oh, i don’t think you want me to.” it makes you nervous to partake in the creation of something so vividly can nonreligious. you're already laying in his bed, unsupervised and alone with him. all your teachings let you know it could lead to other things.

he tilts his head, dangling the headphones off his fingertips. you can hear the punk rock melody blaring from where you’re stationed. “you never wanna listen to my music. scared or somethin’?” he doesn’t wait for a response, already slapping the bluetooth headphones back over his ears and turning back.

hobie already knows the answer but he’s uncaring, regardless. he’s become accustomed to your thinking and even though he feels it’s distorted with reality, he doesn’t judge you for it. nor does he blame you.

you’re back to staring at him and the way his hands dance across the keys. his hands are so big, you think. each finger is slender and long and could probably swallow you whole.

you take your lips in between your teeth with a disgruntled sigh. all these impure thoughts are driving you up the wall. you can’t even blame him because he’s doing nothing to provoke it. you, apparently, just can’t control yourself.

with hobie’s back to you, you’re able to silently pack your stuff up. your laptop is tucked away into your bag and you grab your spiral notebook. he doesn’t notice you’re preparing to leave until you softly slide off his platformed bed and shove your feet into the soles of your matte mary janes.

“where are you going, duck?” he pushes the left side back until it’s no longer covering his ear, rapidly glancing at you.

“my room.” you grab your hello kitty lanyard off his desk. “i’m going to do my work in there. can’t do it here. i’m too distracted.” you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“shit, is it me? hobie pauses his track. he’s rapidly hanging his headphones on the stand and jumping to his feet. “at least let me walk you back.”

hobie stuffs his feet in his traditional black boots. he doesn’t care enough to tie the blue, ladder laced laces. he’s already grabbing that loud, extravagantly pinned vest before you have a chance to blink.

“no, you don’t have to do that.” you nervously fiddle with the blue ribbon tied at the base of your braid. “i don’t want to inconvenience you and it’s not the far from your room.”

he merely tsked and rests his hand atop your head, right in between the pigtails. “darlin’ there’s no chance i’m lettin’ you walk your little self back alone. you of all people? fuck no.”

“hobie!” you chastise, hands flying up to cover your ears. the keys dangle and bump again your cheek. your mom always told you that anyone who says adverse words is going straight to hellfire. you didn’t want to be apart of that.

he opens the door and motions you through, a hand on the small of your back. “you’d follow a man to his truck just ‘cause he said please.”

the warmth from his fingertips spread throughout the nerves on your spine and you feel like you’re on fire. you pout and it can easily be mistaken for your opposing opinions on your naivety.

“sorry but it’s true.” the door clicks shut when both of you have stepped outside it. hobie shoves his keys inside his pocket and begins down the hallway to the elevator. he hasn’t noticed you trailing behind him, teeming with explanations as to why your core throbs at the sight of him.

you do this all the way until you’re out the door of the men’s dormitory. you haven’t uttered a word, thumb rubbing against the warming metal of the cross dangling around your neck.

it’s not like you’ve ever felt this feeling before. not even around the other boys you’ve been around. granted, your hangouts were never like this. it was always under adult supervision, even in your older years, and you mostly saw each other during youth groups and summer camps. this, what you’re feeling now, is an entirely new and uncharted territory.

“hobie,” you start. the warm summer breeze ripples across your skin and leaves behind a chill of the promised winter to follow.

hobie lifts his head. the rock he kicked scattered off the sidewalk and into the grass. he hasn’t spoken to you. either. that’s the best thing about him. he doesn’t ask questions, letting you process things your own way. hobie is all too aware of your differences and has no problem letting you take your time.

“i have a question. it’s kind of personal, i think.” you take a brief pause before each word, meticulously picking them to match your uncertainty.

hobie is still silent. at some point, you would have begin to question if he’s even listening to you if it weren’t for the way he lazily shifted his gaze over to you.

“are you . . . have you ever gotten this feeling in your stomach? like a hot one.” you wet your lips. your heart is about ready to stop beating. how do you explain this to him? are you just supposed to tell him he makes your no-no square all fired up? do people say that?

“what are you goin’ on about, lovely? has my stomach ever burned? yeah, if i eat enough dairy.” he chuckles with a small shake of his head. unbeknownst to him, that is not at all what you’re referring to and you are too ashamed to ask him again.

“never mind,” you say with your head hung low.

it’s your parents fault and the way they neglected to teach you about your body. it’s not like you’re a complete idiot and you know sex can lead to children. however, you were taught that sex is bad and children are blessings so it’s fair to say you’re a bit clueless on the contrasting beliefs. not to mention this weird feeling a boy invokes. the boy that might as well be the son of satan himself.

you sigh, heavy and drawn, pulling your keycard out your lanyard. it scans and the lock beeps, allowing you both entrance into the girls dormitory.

hobie lifts an arm and holds the door open over your head. he’s confused. it’s obvious you’re mulling over something, putting so much energy into it that you don’t notice the weight of his eyes boring into the back of your head.

it isn’t until you’re standing in front of your door does he speak his mind. “what’s keepin’ your head so busy?”

your hand is steady on the handle but you have yet to turn it. you can feel the heat from his body standing so close to yours and just once you wish for him to reach forward and put his hand — oh no.

“m – maybe you should just come inside.” you yank your door open and pull him behind you. it’s a drastic decision on your part. never have you ever invited any man in your room, not even hobie. at best, he got glimpses of the shared living space but never of your room down the hall. he’s always walked you back, stood at your door until you were safe inside, and made his exit. always.

even when he’s come to walk you to class, your roommates would open the door and invite him in but he’d stay planted right at your welcome mat. hobie knows you, knows what silly boundaries you have but he follows them strictly because as long as you’re comfortable, he’s comfortable.

“hold on, look at me.” hobie finds himself abruptly stopping in your living room. he yanks his arm until you’ve spun back around and settles his hands atop your shoulders. his eyes fall on your lips, caught between you teeth and nearly knawed raw. he doesn’t miss your hands clenched into tiny fists by your side. “are you okay? this isn’t like you to act so . . . erratic.”

he has to stop his curiosity from getting the best of him and drink in the interior decorations you’ve done. out the corner of his eyes, he can tell just what you contributed, different nooks and crannies filled with pink trinkets and round eyed figurines. you’re the sweetest thing all worked up and making rash decisions. he doesn’t like where this is leading.

you give him a small nod of your head, eyes downcast and on the tops of his worn boots. the grime is welcoming. better than looking in his eye and having him see how unnerved you are.

as if you aren’t shaking under his grasp.

“dove, don’t lie to me. if there is somethin’ wrong, you need to let me know and i need to hear you say it.” his hands drop to your elbows, fingertips just barely touching your skin. hobie knows you’re avoiding him, avoiding addressing something big but welcoming him in your personal space. the contrast is enormous and it’s especially a big deal for you.

“i’m f – fine. i just . . .” you timidly shift your feet, sweatered arms going to wrap around yourself. you’re clutching your cross again, attention boring into the floor. “. . . can we please talk about it in my room. it’s not something i want to say here.”

he’s hesitant to let you go, drawing in a breath. you’re going to be the death of him, he decides, with the way you concern him but he’ll take your word for it. maybe, maybe just maybe you know exactly what you want.

he allows you to take him back to your room, pushing the door open. immediately, he gets a good whiff of the clean linen wax you have burning in your wax warmer.

your space is tidy, but not necessarily clean. you’re a bit of a maximalist, soft blankets and frills draped around your room. you have posters and paper hearts hanging on your wall, a my melody rug laying in the floor beneath your chair.

there’s a couple flower cushions strewn about and plenty of stuffed animals to go around. you have fairy lights across the wood of bed, casting the room in soft yellow lighting. there’s a rack in the corner full of lacey clothes that he assumes you’re planning on wearing soon.

you look so comfortable, fitting right in. of course you do, considering you decorated it yourself. hobie lingers at the edge of the room while you go through your routine of taking off your shoes and putting your bag by your desk. you’re putting your earrings in the strawberry shaped jewlery holder when you finally address him.

“you don’t have to stand there like that. you can take your shoes off and stuff,” you speak with your back turned to him. you know it’s weird, having him in here. it’s weirder when hobie acts as if his presence in your room will turn it into an active landmine.

hobie licks his lips, hands deep inside his pockets. he doesn’t even want to let his eyes linger too long on anything in fear he’s taint your purity, full of innocence and hope. “what am i here for?”

you rest your hand against the cool, light colored wood of your desk. you feel feverish, the topic making your palm sticky with sweat. the room suddenly gets hot and you’re clearing your throat while motioning for hobie to close the door. “um, well . . .” you trail off, tapping your manicured fingers loud enough to fill the silence with quiet clicks and clacks. “i have something to ask you.”

“ ‘nd you needed to bring me here to ask me?” his head tilts in deep skepticism. hobie leans against the white wall next to your door. he doesn’t want to go any further. he doesn’t belong here.

you’re irked, hands flying to wrap around yourself. the ruffles at the bottom of your dress rub against each other like flower petals in a spring breeze. “just listen! i have something serious to ask you and you’re being awkward. it’s making me awkward.”

hobie lifts and drops his shoulders. he’s tense when he crosses the threshold of your room and takes an uncomfortable seat at your desk chair. “sorry doll but we both know i’m not supposed to be in here. what do you want to talk about? make it quick so i can go.” he leans back as far as the chair will allow, eyes up and on you.

his question demands a straight forward response, one that you cannot provide. you don’t know what is happening, yourself. you’re back to your silence, grasping for words to form an explanation. “remember when i asked you if your stomach ever burned before?”

“not this again. i thought we already talked about –”

“no! listen.” you’re shouting at him again, lips pressed into a pout. you’re just barely working up the courage and you need to get it out before it goes away. “lately, i’ve been feeling like that but not in my stomach.”

you’re speaking so fast, hobie can barely understand you. he just catches your words, suddenly sitting up with his brows knitted together. “are you okay? sick?” he presses his hands flesh against your cheeks and forehead but your skin isn’t warm to the touch.

“n – no. not that i know of.” you nearly whine when his fingertips brush along your waist as they’re lowered back to his side. “it’s a little uncomfortable.” you rub your knees together in an attempt to satiate the ache between your thighs.

hobie has enough experience to recognize the little shuffle you do, accompanied by the needy glint in your eye. it startles him. not you. anyone but you, miss purity herself. he’s seeing things. “then what?”

he’s terrified of the way you look at him, eyes glossed over. the cherry colored blush dusted across your cheeks appeals to your cherubic state. this is his worst nightmare and best dream, that you would entice him like this.

it isn’t easy to ignore the chub of your ass that you’re unaware you carry and the softness of your breasts when you grab his arm and press your body against his. it especially isn’t easy to ignore the sweetness in your voice when you plead and chastise him for his vulgar words and behavior. oh how badly does he want to twist your brain but he won’t. he can’t allow himself to. you’re too good for that and that’s the problem.

“i feel weird inside around you, hobie. only you and . . . i don’t know.” you’re meek and quiet, face advert and back in the ruffled hem of your white socks. you cross and uncross your ankles to satisfy your need to stir and wriggle. “i wasn’t going to say anything but i don’t know how to make it stop and sometimes it hurts.”

you look so pitiful and pretty like this, almost begging for his help. it doesn’t take a genius to understand what you mean but hobie can’t bring himself to act on it. it feels so wrong on so many levels. he can’t take advantage of your unawareness like this.

“aw baby,” he has to curl his fingers into his palm to prevent himself from reaching out and grabbing you. that’s why you were so insistent on coming to your room. “you don’t want my help with that.” he keeps telling himself he has to be the bigger person, the one who thinks clearly.

“i do,” you insist, daring to take a bold step closer until you’re slotted between his knees. it’s a lot for you, coiling in on yourself to find comfort despite acting out your comfort zone. “i can’t take it anymore. you don’t understand.”

his hand comes up to rest against your cheek, following an empathetic shake of his head. “no, you don’t understand. you don’t even know what you’re talking about. what am i supposed to do if you can’t even tell me what you’re talking about?”

hobie stands, presumably to take his leave. he pushes you away from him by your waist. he’s stopped when you wrap your hand around his slender wrist, staring up at him with big, entreating eyes.

“please? anything? please, hobie. i’ll take anything just help me do something. tell me what to do, i don’t care. it’s terrible and uncomfortable and i can’t bear it anymore.”

he takes one look at you and is met with your waterline, gathering in tears of desperation. all his resolve slowly breaks until he’s cupping your cheeks with a soft sigh. “you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that? babblin’ about shit you don’t even understand.” he’s gentle, backing you up until your knees are knocking against your desk. he sits you up there, hands resting on either side of you.

“hobie,” you reprimand him again for his words out of habit, hands going to cover your ears again.

he stops them, much larger ones enscasing yours with a tut of his tongue. “don’t even. you don’t get to complain about me sayin’ shit and fuck and whatever else. not right now.” he presses your palm against his lips, piercings warm against your skin.

your mouth falls open, only to wordlessly shut. you don’t know what to say, what to do. all you know is you’re slightly overwhelmed with the future possibilities. what’s about to happen? what is he going to do?

“i don’t even know what to do with you. you sure this is what you want?” hobie doesn’t feel he needs to ask with the way you were begging him but he can’t help it. you’re such a sweet thing, asking him to do something about your aching cunt. you don’t even know what you’re asking him.

you nod, eyes widening when his hand falls over your knee. it’s a respectful distance but you’re anxious, already wiggling under his gaze. “you keep asking me.”

“i know darlin’ but can you blame me? just gotta make sure.” hobie ever-so-swiftly slides his hand up your thigh until his thumb is brushing against the front of your panties. he isn’t interested in beating around the bush and quite frankly, it would be so much better to just get the first touch done for. break the ice just enough.

your body immediately reacts, legs pressing closed as far as you can get them. your eyebrows knit together as your nerves crackle and pop with a sudden desire you haven’t felt before. “i’m s – sure.”

“never had this pretty pussy played with before have you? ‘course not. you’re a good girl.”

you hate the way he’s talking to you. it’s not quite derogatory but it makes you feel otherworldly in a negative way. as if you have no clue what he’s talking about. you don’t. and his words are so unclean.

“not gonna fuck you tonight. you’re not ready for that, yet.” he aids your legs back open with a firm grip, holding them in place. “you know what that means, yeah?” hobie doesn’t mean it as an insult, circling his thumb around your already puffy clit.

“mhm,” you’re wiggling again, lip caught between your teeth. you’ve heard the phrase in passing, understanding the word and its context. never have you used it, yourself. you’re clueless, not dumb.

hobie bunches your white dress up by your hips. he’s greeted with a view of your black panties, dark enough to conceal the dampening spot but he can still feel it beneath the pad of his thumb.

your glittery lip gloss has begun to spill over your plump lip and dribble down your chin with how much you quiver. he swipes the excess off, lightly chuckles at the way you fawn and fall over.

just over the clothes touching has you like this, mewling and hiccuping and doing your best to conceal it. it’s endearing, the way you try to maintain his level of composure.

he continues toying with you, a bit hesitant. it’s not like him but hobie knows he has to take his time with you. he can’t rush. he has to prep you thoroughly, get you used to his touches. this is what you want.

“and you’re not gonna act all shy when i take these off, are you?” his finger hooks through the leg hole, snapping the fabric back until it pops against you when it’s released. “or are you still trying to be a little angel?”

the thought of hobie pulling your underwear down and seeing what no one, let alone a man, has seen. your private jewels that you’re sure are soaping wet the way they are every other night. your cheeks heat up and you squeeze your eyes shut, knees trying to do the same. “no, i’m not.” you’re trying to be so brave, it’s cute.

“don’t worry, dolly. not yet. just gonna rub your cunt, just like this.” he pushes and pulls on your clit, hot underneath the pressure of his thumb. it has your hips shuffling in an attempt to rut against him. he doesn’t know if you’re aware, the way you stare at him like he hung the moon himself. “could make you cum like this, i bet. you ever done that before?”

a particular jerk of his finger has you gasping and grabbing whatever part of him you can get to first, his forearm and his shoulder. “i never –,” your chest heaves with a broken moan, partially restrained, “n – no. i don’t.”

as far as you know, premature sex and masturbation is a sin. you have never been tempted before even meeting hobie. not only would he be the first to touch you but he’d be the first to make you cum.

his boxers get increasingly more tight at the thought. you’re so pure and he’s so lucky, being the first, even before you, to dip his fingers between your folds. he can barely restrain himself.

hobie plants himself in your hair, his gruff groan vibrating your scalp. he can’t help the way his thumb jostles your clit. it’s nearly primal, how badly he wants to draw an orgasm out of you and he knows you’ll do it so easy with how pent up and inexperienced you are.

“you don’t gotta hide it, baby. let me hear you, dove. tell me what you like so i can make you feel good.” your hair smells of vanilla and shea butter. it makes hobie want to devour every part of you, his long cock leaking with precum but he has to remember to take his time. he has to.

“hobie . .” your weak whine fills the hazy spot in his brain that’s indulged so deeply in every part of you. you don’t have to tell him for him to know, it’s obvious in how you’re unable to be still, nails stabbing into his skin. “i f – feel weird.” you’re so wound up.

hobie pulls his head back. he feels heavy with need as he tilts your chin towards his face. he just wants to see you, that’s all. he just needs to see the expression you make the first time you cum. “don’t fight it, sweet girl. just let it happen. it’ll feel real good.” his thumb strokes your jawline, coaxing you to give in to the growing lust filled pit in your stomach.

hobie knows you cum simply because he can feel it. your pussy spams so hard, he swears he can hear it. he doesn’t even have to put a finger up to your entrance to feel the pulsating. it’s almost as if your hole is searching for something to suck in.

your mouth has fallen open in a tiny o, working your body into hobie’s through your experience. he was right. it felt so good, satiating the need and burn of your body. it’s almost addicting, the way your body reacts to his touch. your brain is becoming mush with each throb. “oh my goodness.” you speak in between breaths, finally releasing hobie and drawing back your nails.

he only chuckles, rubbing at your thighs. “that was good, wasn’t it? did it help your little problem?” he plays with the bottom of your dress, conflicted between pulling it down to set you free and suggesting another round. you offered a starved man a seat at the table.

you smile shyly at him. you don’t know what to say now, what to do. your friend just made you cum after you begged him to. how do people do this casually? “yes, thank you. i’m deeply sorry for being so forceful.”

at this, hobie laughs out loud. it’s genuine and booming against the walls. it seems he has yet to break you in but he supposed he was too hopeful. of course he couldn’t turn you into something like him just from rubbing on you a little bit.

“you’re all good, duck. you weren’t being forceful, at all.” he pulls out the desk chair and takes a seat, getting comfortable in the flower shaped cushion. his limber fingers are back to picking at the side of your panties. he’s a bit hungry, he thinks.

his eyes, dark and narrowed, do something to you. you don’t understand. you can still feel the sticky mess in your underwear but something is stirring inside you, again.

you both stare at each other in a heated silence, thinking the same thing but waiting for the other to say it first.

“you want me to eat you out?” hobie is the first to speak with his head tilted. he’s far more impatient and bold to play around. when he wants something, he’ll take it.

at first, you believe you heard him incorrectly. “do i want you to what?” you feel stupid having to ask but you’re truly at a loss. “i’m sorry. hobie, i don’t know what that is.”

hobie is the luckiest man in the world. if he could whip his cock out and slide it inside you, he would but having you on his tongue would be the next best thing, especially when you’re asking him what that is. “you’re about to find out.” he murmurs, pulling you to the edge of the desk.

you’re surprised when hobie yanks your underwear down, lifting up a hip at a time to get it down your legs and tossed across the room. both the cool air and his dark gaze has you snapping your legs shut. there’s too many things to hide from and you’re unprepared.

“no, no. don’t shut me out like that.” he has his hands hooked under your knees and props them on your shoulders. his excuse is that it would be better for you to manage but truthfully, he does it to get an eye to cunt view. he pulls you even closer until your lower body is dipping into his lap and you’re relying on him to hold you up. “you’re gonna like it, i promise.”

“oh, i don’t know about this.” you grip the edge of the desk, still sitting up and getting a perfect view of the carnal look in hobie’s eye. he actually licks his lips, flicking his attention up to you for only a second.

“just once. just try it once and if you don’t like it, we can stop. you have my word.”

you don’t know how much you can trust him like this but his warm breathe is just tickling you in all the best ways. it’s hypnotizing enough to have you nodding in agreement before you know it. “o – okay.”

hobie has enough sense, what little he has left, to put a hand in your tummy and pushing you down until your back is against the cool wood. he doesn’t have to tell you to stay there. he just knows you will, especially when you’re gasping at the feeling of his hot tongue on your cunt.

your sap is sweet and unbelievably so. like cherries and strawberries and mangos on a warm summer day. he’s delusional, drunk already and nose deep in your cunt.

his tongue finds your entrance as the source of the sweetness all to easy. he’s addicted to it, each suckle and slurp persuading more of your cream to pour out your hole.

it doesn’t take you long to start writhing, hand all in his hair, tugging in every direction. each swipe of his tongue and bump of his nose in your clit has your back arching. it’s better than you could have ever imagined. you can’t believe you were about to turn this down, or the fact that you didn’t allow yourself to experience such pleasure simply because of your parents fears.

you cry and sob, legs shaking on his shoulders. you can’t decide whether or not you want to tighten your legs around his head or open them wider to accept more of him. “hobie, p – please!”

hobie almost doesn’t hear you. almost.

your words just barely float around his brain but your pleas stick just enough for him to push your legs up by the bottom of your thighs. he keeps you hooked there so strongly, he’s able to grasp your hand and maintain his hold.

it sounds so wet that it’s humiliating. you can’t believe these sounds are coming from you, that hobie’s tongue is deep in you, that he has you folded like this. you didn’t know this was possible.

your body is all warm all over again. you’re fortunate there’s no excess clutter on your desk with the way hobie has you. your hands fly to the metal structure holding your bed together, mouth drying from how long you’ve held it open.

you swear it comes faster than it did before. it occurs to you that you’re a ticking time bomb. the previous orgasm has your clit feeling like each touch is a hot stone.

it’s as if hobie steals your breath with your growing cries at your approaching release. you don’t know what to do with yourself, where to put your hands. it’s overwhelming, your second orgasm and the first time anyone has ever “eaten you out”.

“feel weird again!” you say through broken sobs. you’re met with hobie’s acknowledging hands massaging into your skin. he’s coaxing, encouraging you without having to remove himself from his new favorite spot in the world, right between your thighs.

it gives you whiplash with how quickly your orgasm comes, pushing out of you as if the first one never happened. it’s just as strong, if not stronger. your body trembles with your spurts of cream. it’s weeks worth of sexual frustration to know end and a confusing search of a solution, all washed off you in one night.

you’re so sensitive, you have to push him off with your feet at his chest and chest heaving for air. “fuck, that was good.”

“did you just say fuck?” hobie leans over you, bringing the bottom of his shirt up to wipe your sheen off his face. he’s well amused, almost snorting at your response. that had to be his influence.

“did i?” you cover your mouth with quick regret. you didn’t realize it rolled off your tongue so easy.

hobie grins, pulling you to seating and then to your feet. he tries not to ogle at you too much. it’s difficult when your lower half is completely exposed and he’s still so desperately horny but he puts your needs first, closing his eyes and clearing his throat. “you got somethin’ to clean you up with? wipes or somethin’ until you shower?”

you open your desk drawer and pull out a pack of baby wipes. you present the package to hobie, who pops it open and takes one out.

he doesn’t ask you to move, merely just lowers himself to the ground and with gentle hands, wipe up the mixed mess of saliva and your juices.

you whine, presumably from the unavoidable ache that accompanies your sensitivity.

“i’m sorry, lovely. have to,” hobie tries to be as quick and harmless as possible, soothing you with kisses to your inner thigh. they’re well mannered and innocent, until you’re clean enough and he’s throwing the baby wipe away. “are you okay, though? you don’t regret it, do you?”

you watch hobie straighten out your dress again. his gaze is as polite as it can get, avoiding any look at your pussy, although its right in front of him. instead, he meets your eyes until he rises to his feet. “um, no.” you’re back to being quiet, hands clasped and fumbling with each other.

you’re suddenly aware of how close he’s standing but it’s short lived when hobie is making his way back to the door to put his shoes on.

“i’m gonna go because i’m sure you want to process that and get your space and whatever else, yeah? but don’t worry, i’ll answer your texts and your calls.” he does feel bad, as if he’s fuck-and-dashing you but in reality, if he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll be too tempted to try and actually fuck you. “i’ll be back tomorrow to walk you to class, doll.”

you’re speechless as you watch him gather himself to leave, grateful for the space because you could probably explode right now. you also miss your panties just barely peeking out of his pocket.

“and feel free me to ask me again if you ever need my help.” and with that, he’s gone with a soft click of your door.

#࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #hobie x reader #x reader #hobie x y/n

325 notes · View notes

xmalereader · 10 months

Text

Miguel O’Hara X Black Cat! Male Reader || 2 ||

|| Masterlist ||

Authors note: You all tempted me to make a second part…this one isn’t really a continuation but a small mini snippet of reader and Miles little dynamic again because you all enjoyed it! Again, Spanish words are mentioned, fluent and Latino myself. Also thank you for 6.8K followers!!

Summary: Reader is Black Cat in Miguel’s universe who is married to the leader of the spider society and who’s also taken a liking towards Miles who has invited him to his families party.

Warnings: Slight ATSV spoilers, fluff, angst, slight language, Spanish words ( fluent ), past experiences, dancing, parties, Miguel and reader have a moment, sarcasm, mentions of sex, second chances, found family.

Word count: 2.6k

- || Part One || Part Three ||

“You want him to what?”

Miguel stared down at the fifteen year old, hands on his hips with a confused look on his face while also raising a brow. Clearly he didn’t understand the teens question nor did he want too.

“I want to invite Y/n to my fathers celebration of him becoming captain.” Repeated Miles with a faint and nervous smile on his face. After spending his time in the spider society he’s gotten adjusted to the routine in HQ and knew the rules that he wasn’t suppose to break and one was not to mess with Miguel or do anything to upset the man. Miles didn’t want to upset Miguel, but had no choice in asking for the mans permission in allowing Y/n to come over to his families party.

Due to Y/n being a thief and Miguels ex-ish husband he’s been under house arrest in HQ, meaning that he wasn’t allowed to leave HQ without Miguel’s permission even though the man had escaped many times and had been chased down by Miguel. The two chasing each other through different universe to the point where Miguel was tempted to chain the cat down due to constant escaping.

“You know he can’t leave.”

“Come on, Mig!” Y/n voice echos through the lab, getting both of their attention as he jumps down from the ceiling, emerging from the shadows as he wore his suit and lands a cat next to Miles before standing up straight and smirking at Miguel. “It’s just a party, I’ll behave.” He purrs out in a teasing matter, knowing how much his husband hated it but also loved it at the same time.

Miguel glared at him, baring his fangs as he opens his mouth to protest only for Y/n to beat him to it. “Why don’t you come too? You can keep an eye on me?” He suggests, getting Miguel to close his mouth as the other man thinks.

Y/n raises his brows in surprise, not believing that the man would actually think about the idea as he glanced down at Miles who shrugs in return. It only took Miguel a few minutes before he’s agreeing to the idea. “Very well.”

“Yes!” Miles fist bumps the air as he jumps in excitement, turning to Y/n with a large smile on his face. “My parents are going to love you!”

“Don’t you think they will find it weird or suspicious that their fifteen year old son is hanging around someone nearing their thirties who is also a thief?” Y/n questions, a bit worried on how Miles parents would think about him being around their son, clearing not knowing that he was Spider-Man who was being trained under the cities number one thief who Miguel despised.

“Nah, they’ll like you. Just work your charm on them.” Said Miles, getting the black cat to grin at his words. “I’ll be charming for sure.”

Miguel groans at his words, rolling his eyes. “Before you two go, I need you to do a mission for me as pay back for forcing me to go with you.”

“Technically you weren’t invited.” Miles mumbled under his breath, but loud enough for both adults to hear.

“What did you say?” Miguel sharply turns to Miles while Y/n holds back a laugh, covering his mouth and looking away as Miles quickly says ‘nothing’.

Y/n swallows down his laughter and clears his throat while winking at the kid and bumping his shoulder in a humorous manner before the two focused back on Miguel. “You two should never be in the same room together.” Said Miguel earning himself an eye roll from Y/n as he placed his hand no his hip. “Yeah, well you can’t get rid of my kid. I found him and he’s mine now.”

“You can’t just claim some kid.”

“Well I just did!”

The two adults began to argue, again. The usual routine for many spiders.

Whenever Y/n and Miguel were together they always found a way to break into an argument, fighting like a married couple and growing heated with each other. Clearly everyone in the room can feel the sexual tension between the two that a couple of traumatized spiders may or may not have walked in on the two before, causing them to avoid Miguel at all times. Too embarrassed to face the man who was balls deep into his husband.

The two have tried to be careful more often, but sometimes when their letting out their frustrations on each other it tends to be on the most random time of the day and random place.

Miles can only watch the two, going back and forth at the two before checking his own watch to see the time. “Oh no! I forgot about the cakes—gotta go! See you tonight!” Miles quickly shouts out as he ran out of the lab, leaving both Miguel and Y/n on their own as the two watch Miles run out of the lab.

“Well, I guess my house arrest is lifted.” Y/n uses his pointer finger to tap Miguel on the check in a mocking matter before taking steps backwards and making his way towards the exit. “See you tonight!”

“The mission—!”

“Find someone else, sweetheart!” Y/n laughs out as he uses his own watch to open a portal into Miles universe, jumping through and appearing back in his penthouse that he was able to purchase with the things he stole, humming to himself happily as the portal closed behind him, finally giving him the privacy to remove his suit and get himself prepared for Miles family party. He wasn’t one to socialized, but for Miles he would do anything for that kid.

After the discovery of Miguel and Y/n’s relationship and that fact that he was a variant of a familiar thief to many spidermen, he wasn’t too surprised when they would all give him cautious stares. Later finding out that many of the black cats that they’ve met had either betrayed or used their Spider-Man in order to get what they wanted. It surprised everyone when they found out that he was far more different than they thought.

Very little knew about his and Miguels relationship; they worked in their universe and loved each other. Still do.

Many of the black cats became a thief or who they are now due to a poor life or wanting to help a family figure while Y/n became who he was due to the death of Miguels daughter, needing to find an escape from the grief and found relief in stealing.

He was still loyal to Miguel, not once did he bat an eye for another man or women always wearing his wedding ring underneath the gloves he wore. Both Miguel and Y/n can argue all they want and claim that they can’t stand each others presences but the universe always brought them back together, it was their canon.

While Y/n got ready for the party he tried his best not to overdress, wearing something less formal and more casual and also making sure that he always came with something not wanting to show any bad manners as he took the extra time to bake some cookies for the party and smiled proudly at his own work once he was done and ready.

He didn’t need Miles address, clearly already knowing where the kid lived as he made his way through the streets of New York and towards Miles apartment building where he can hear the loud music playing and the sound of laughter above him, making him tilt his head back a bit to see some lights hanging on the side of the building.

“Going in?”

He’s startled by Miguels voice, turning around to come face to face with his husband. “Wha—whoa…” Y/n’s eyes slowly widen, his pupils dilating when the land on him, taking in his casual wear that he hasn’t seen in a while always seeing him in his spider suit and working.

“You look—“

Miguel raised a brow while grinning slowly.

“Good.” Y/n finishes, clearing his throat and trying to mask the blush rising to his cheeks and focused back on why they were here. “We should head in before Miles starts calling me to hurry up.” He held the tray of cookies in his hands and ignores Miguel's chuckle as the two walk inside the apartment building and making their way up the stairs. Now, Y/n was a known thief and skilled fighter and could take down a group of men on his own and yet somehow, he couldn’t face a simple party full of nice people and possibly gossip.

“Estas nervioso?”

Y/n swallows, looking over his shoulder to see Miguel staring at him with the softest look one that he knew too well. “Focus on your breathing and only think about how fast this will go by.” Miguel whispers near his ear, leaning forward while the other sighs deeply, giving himself a small reassured nod before the two step through the door and onto the crowded rooftop where they are greeted with music, laughter, and couples dancing.

“You made it!”

Y/n looks up ahead to see Miles pushing through the crowd as he waves his hands in the air with excitement, stumbling in his step and nearly tripping over himself and Y/n is quick to catch the kid, extending an arm out and catching him. “Whoa, easy kid. I get that your excited, we technically see each other every day.”

“I know, but we’re usually doing hero stuff. This is different.” Miles was smiling widely, eyes full of enthusiasm which doesn’t go unnoticed by the black cat himself. “Guess you’re right about that.”

“I still have to keep an eye on you.”

Miguels voice startles the two, clearly forgetting about his quiet presence. “Geez, maybe you should wear a bell you are quieter than me.” States Y/n, still not used to the fact of Miguel being quieter than him.

“You should wear that bell, not me.” Miguel shot back as Y/n sticks his tongue out at him in a childish manner.

“Miles!”

The three turn towards the direction of the voice only to see Miles mother approaching her son with a faint smile. “Mijo, did you invite these two?” She asks with a kind smile on her face, hand on her sons shoulder.

Miles suddenly grows bashful as he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Mom this is Y/n, who I told you about and his Husband Miguel.” He introduces, catching his mother by surprise. “Oh! You’re Y/n—Miles talks fondly of you, I didn’t expect you to be so…” She can’t form the words but Y/n expected this reaction.

“Older? I know, I’ve told Miles that you would be worried to know that his son is hanging around someone twice his age but no worries I treat him like family and make sure that he isn’t causing any trouble for his parents.”

Miles Mother chuckled. “Thank you for keeping an eye on him, you can call me Rio.”

“Likewise.” He holds the plate of cookies out to her with a smile. “I didn’t want to come empty handed its bad manners.”

“Wow, how nice of you. Please help yourselves with anything.”

Y/n nods at her words and turns back to Miles when she walks away to place the cookies with the rest of the food. “See? Not so bad.”

“Wait until you meet my dad.”

Miguel suddenly speaks up. “Why do I feel weird not being acknowledged?”

“Because, women know everything. One look is all it takes and they know everything, its scary. She probably immediately knew about your true intentions with me.” He points an accusing finger at him as Miguel scoffs. “We’re married.”

“Technically divorced.”

“I see no divorce papers.” He crossed his arms over his chest, smirking at Y/n who glared up at him. “I’ll fuck you up.” He threatens which Miguel only finds adorable.

It didn’t take long for them to meet Miles father who was kind but also protective of his son, interrogating him a bit until Y/n works his charm and provides the new chief a gift, congratulating him on his new position and wishing him luck. His sudden flattery gets the teens father all flustered and speechless as he accepts the gift and him. Gaining the trust of both parents and getting the chance to know them further.

The party went on longer than any usual party, everyone was happily chatting away with their own family and friends while others danced to the music. The amount of excitement gets to Y/n, dragging Miguel onto the dance floor as the two danced away to Merengue music. It took Y/n some time to adjust to the fast pace while Miguel got it on the spot, making Y/n jealous by how fast he adapts to the music and dancing.

Miguel takes him by the waist and pulls him in close, the two panting heavily from the dancing as Y/n laughs. “Curse you and your Mexican genes.” Miguel chuckled. “Not my fault I dance better than you.” The two laugh, breathless from their dancing before moving away from the dance floor and much more private area where the music wasn’t too loud, finding their way on the edge of the roof top, sitting next to each other as they looked at the view ahead of them.

“I missed this.” Y/n voice is soft and genuine, eyes still focused on the city as Miguel glanced at him, licking his lips. “Parties?”

Y/n chuckles. “No, us.”

This causes a small faint smile to appear on Miguels lips as Y/n kept talking. “I missed feeling like this, so free and happy…I know we had our difficulties in the past and we lost so much.” He turns to face Miguel. “I don’t want to argue anymore or let the past catch up to us. I know—you miss her. I do too, believe me the amount of times I couldn’t stop thinking about her whenever I see things that remind me of her, but I know that she would want me to move on to start over again and I did.” He nods over his shoulder towards the group of people who were full of happiness and smiling faces, towards Miles who had his face buried in his hands as his parents speak about his embarrassing moments, getting the kid flustered.

Y/n sighs contently, turning back to face Miguel who was staring at the crowd before him, taking in his husbands words as he sighs with a small nod. “You make it look so easy.”

“But its not.” Y/n says. “It never will.”

Miguel lets out a dry chuckle his finger fidgeting nervously with his wedding ring. He’s suffered the most with the lose of his daughter. When he first introduced his daughter to Y/n when they were first dating, he was nervous at first only for Y/n to quickly fall in love with her, taking care of her as a parent and being there when Miguel couldn’t, deepening their relationship even more. Miguel had the family he always wanted only for him to lose it in a matter of seconds after his daughters death, pushing Y/n away and creating useless arguments with each other not knowing that he was pushing away the only person he ever had left.

Now, here he sat. Being given a second chance to start over.

“I’m willing to try.” Miguel whispers, getting Y/n’s attention who smiled at is husband, reaching out to take his hand into his own. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you on the way.”

#male reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x male reader #black cat reader #black cat marvel #spider man across the spider verse #black cat series #BlackCat tag

1K notes · View notes

captain-mj · 5 months

Note

I really hope this isn't too weird... I saw a tweet recently talking about a trope of "Just the tip" porn where they promise they won't put it all the way in and then do.

Completely understand if this isn't something you're comfortable with! But I'd love a SoapGhost version (if you are cool, I might ask for other ships too)

Consent is dubious. Consent is shy. Consent is in the other room but they can kinda hear it.

Ghost was just fine with their current sex life. He gave Soap a blowjob or a handjob anytime Soap got hard. He'd think he'd would be happy about that. Unlimited pleasure with no need to give anything back.

But Soap was not. He was constantly begging Ghost to let him please him too. Ghost always brushed it off or insisted not right now.

Ghost was well aware if he actually told Soap no, he'd stop. He'd be upset, maybe a tiny bit of pouting, but he'd stop. Still, he let the little game continue.

Soap stopped mentioning it for a while. Funnily enough, he never sought Ghost out. If he really thought about it, all of their sexual encounters were initiated and started by Ghost. Ghost just didn't get off.

Soap had his fingers dug into Ghost's hair, panting and whimpering as he tried not to come yet while Ghost mused. His fingers were working him open.

In all honestly, he hadn't had sex in years. After Roba, he barely had a will to touch himself, let alone allow anyone else to touch him and see him so vulnerable. It took him this long to be able to do this. In his opinion Soap should be grateful instead of greedy.

Though, that wasn't fair. Soap hadn't even seen Ghost fully undressed.

Johnny sobbed as he came, throwing his head back. Ghost kept his legs open so he could keep going for another minute before puling away.

Soap groaned softly and his hips jerked. He looked down just fast enough to watch Ghost swallow.

"Fuck, Simon. Finally going to let me return the favor?"

"Nah." Ghost stood up.

Soap looked a tiny bit defeated before looking at the bulge in Ghost's pants. Quietly, he leaned forward, mouthing at him. "Don't you want something?"

Ghost felt his cock twitch. It was a pretty picture. But he grabbed his mohawk and yanked his head away. "Maybe later."

Soap made a sinful fucking sound. He ran his tongue along the bulge in Ghost's pants. "Thank you so much, Si." Ghost wanted to think it was his excellent head giving that he was thinking him for but it was instead the idea of later.

He just didn't get the big deal.

Ghost finally gave in though. As he always did when it was something Soap wanted. He found himself surprisingly less comfortable than he expected, but he only gave off confidence, refusing to have Soap seeing him anything but. The idea of Soap finding him weak was nauseating. He didn't want to mess up.

Soap didn't know yet that Ghost was going to give in that, so he started up on it. "If we did fuck, who would top and who would bottom?"

"Don't know."

"Guess we'll have to go by dick size. You know, its completely fine if you're smaller than me. Won't think any less of you." Ghost could tell it was supposed to be a joke but also reassurance. He rolled his eyes as he looked through his drawers for new boxers for Soap.

Soap sighed. "Simon, come on. It's not fair."

"To me?" Ghost unzipped his pants, being silent so he wouldn't know.

"To me! I like helping. I don't get why you're...." Soap trailed off. "ah..."

Ghost was big. He was well aware. Judging by the look on Soap's face, Johnny hadn't thought of that yet. "There. I'd top."

Soap nodded. "I can... use my hand?"

"Where did all that bravado go? Huh? Suddenly get nervous?"

Soap laughed nervously, proving Ghost's words. "Listen.... sure I can't top?"

"Your rules." Ghost started to fix his pants again, going back to his original idea of finger Soap until he came from that. He could let Soap think about it for a few da-

"Wait... I could blow you?"

"Soap, need you speaking the next few days. I've seen the way you handle fingers." Ghost rolled his shoulders. "We don't have to do this."

Soap groaned. "You have too much self control when it comes to sex."

"I get you off and then we can move on."

Soap swallowed and looked at Ghost's cock again. Ghost could see the wheels in his brain moving. He chewed his lip and it was already clear he wouldn't let this go until he got Ghost off.

"What if I promise to just put the tip in?" Ghost asked, curious on if he'd even go for it.

Soap thought about it. He wanted to please Ghost so much. "Yeah. Just the tip. Promise just the tip?"

Ghost laughed. "Yes. Just the tip. I promise." He doubted he'd have that big of an issue with it.

Soap was already prepped which is perfect. He laid back down and let Ghost get on top of him. Slowly, Ghost positioned himself. At this point, he was praying to himself that he wouldn't come immediately. It was definitely a possibility. Gently, he started to push in, feeling the tight walls around his cock.

Ghost hear the whine that came out of him and his eyes rolled back. It felt so good. He forgot how good it felt.

Soap groaned and clenched hard. "Fuck. You're so big. Feel nice?"

Ghost bit his lip to try to shut up and just nodded. This was so much better than he remembered. Soap always wanted more... It wouldn't hurt.

"Ghost? Wha-"

Ghost pushed in more, moaning properly. He whimpered. "Don't make me pull out, fuck, please don't make me pull out."

Soap panted. "Fuck, fucking hell. You're so big. How do you even...." He clenched hard and gasped for air. "I don't think I can fit it."

Ghost started to rock his hips. This is what he had been telling Soap no over? He started to work himself in deeper as Soap continued making sinful noises.

"Si, Simon, Simon." Soap bit his pillow and let Ghost keep going. He started to thrust in with no abandon, hearing Soap's noises being swallowed.

Ghost kept pushing. He knew Soap would tell him to stop if he actually wanted to. That's how they worked.

Ghost moaned when he finally bottomed out. "Fucking hell, Johnny." He panted softly as he started to fuck him. He never wanted to pull out. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Soap arched his back and let him keep going. Ghost heard, and felt, him come around him. He finished and came inside him.

Soap fell into the sheets and whimpered as Ghost pulled out. His hole gaped and Ghost groaned.

"Sorry."

Soap panted softly. "Don't worry about it. You can do it again, any time. I promise."

Ghost nodded and groped his ass. "I didn't mean to be so rough with you."

Soap moaned and pushed back against him. "Felt so good. So good." He relaxed into the pillows. "You got off right?"

"Yes, Johnny. Sorry for not asking."

"I loved it. Don't even worry."

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #call of duty modern warfare ii #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #cod #soapghost #ghoap

246 notes · View notes

anamericangirl · 6 months

Note

Since I lack reading comprehension maybe you can explain what this passage in Leviticus means:

"As for the male and female slaves whom you may have, it is from the nations around you that you may acquire male and female slaves.You may also acquire them from among the aliens residing with you, and from their families that are with you, who have been born in your land; and they may be your property. You may keep them as a possession for your children after you, for them to inherit as property. These you may treat as slaves, but as for your fellow Israelites, no one shall rule over the other with harshness."

We went over this in the 19th c. but I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Sure. So with historical texts, including the Bible, you have to read them through the context in which they were written and not through a modern 21st century lens.

When you see the word "slave" here you're obviously assuming it's referring to chattel slavery but that's actually not the case.

To understand where God stands on slavery, you have to look at more than one verse in the Bible. It's a whole entire book and you can't just pull out one verse and think that makes you a theologian. In books like Leviticus, Exodus, and Deuteronomy, God was giving an entire law code to his people and all the laws were connected to each other. They weren't given as stand alone orders, which is why context is so important here.

In Exodus, the book prior to Leviticus where you got that verse, God lays out in the Mosaic law "Now one who kidnaps someone, whether he sells him or he is found in his possession, shall certainly be put to death." - Ex 21:16

This verse clearly shows that God views "kidnapping" people and selling them or if they are even found in their "possession" to be punishable by death, which is kind of weird for Him to say since you're pretty sure he condones slavery.

There's also a verse in Deuteronomy 23 that says "You shall not hand over to his master a slave who has escaped from his master to you. He shall live with you in your midst, in the place that he chooses in one of your towns where it pleases him; you shall not mistreat him."

So if God has outlawed kidnapping people, selling people, and has deemed that if a person working for you wants to leave they are free to do so and you should not force them back or mistreat them, it certainly seems that he's outlawed all the main components of slavery.

And now we get to that verse in Leviticus.

You have to remember the Bible was not written in English and the Hebrew word used here for slave, in this context, really would mean something more like a servant or employee.

And it makes sense, as you have the word "acquire" in the verse to understand it more like hire especially since we know in Exodus God outlawed selling people so it wouldn't make any sense for him to condone it in Leviticus.

The only time the Bible is "condoning slavery" is when it's a case of voluntary servitude. Slavery, back in the time the Bible was written, was not the chattel slavery you are familiar with today. It was often used as a way to pay debts. People would agree to work for someone else for a specified period of time in order to pay off a debt and then once they had fulfilled their agreement they were free to go. It was not cases of people being enslaved and forced to work for someone else with no compensation against their will.

If you read more than that one verse whenever God is "condoning slavery" this is the kind of slavery he's talking about and he puts most of the power of the slave/master relationship with the slave as he is allowed to leave whenever he wants and if it would by chance be a lifelong arrangement that would only occur if it was by the slave's choosing.

So the verse you pulled is not an endorsement of enslaving people it's essentially God saying you can "hire" people from all those groups.

The word property sounds harsh because in English it is a harsh word but remember the Bible wasn't written in English and in Hebrew it's essentially the equivalent of a boss referring to someone as "their" employee.

#answered

85 notes · View notes

penaconys-hound · 25 days

Text

Obligatory RP Blog intro post

(Warning: Contains Spoilers for the end of 2.1)

——— Making a drink is a sensory skill. In dreams, creating fizzy concoctions requires adding a bit of your mood. Heavier if you're troubled, a touch sweeter if you're in high spirits... It's not just about mixing beverages. It's about mixing the experiences of life.

Gallagher's the name, I'm one of the local "Hounds" around here. Step into Penacony, the Land of Dreams, Nameless one.

Tired? Just find a place to sit and rest for a while. Let’s have a talk and I’ll mix something up for you.

But a few words of advice…

Don’t get lost in dreams, and not everything’s as it seems.

Guidelines, Key, Tags and Notes from the mod:

Guidelines:

-Fellow RP Blogs are allowed, uh hiii Star Rail RP community

-This is my first RP Blog after like a year or so (previous ones just died) so I may be rusty so apologies for that -Using tonetags would be appreciated, not required but appreciated, especially if you say something that could come off as rude but you don’t mean it in that tone, the mod can’t read tone through text.

-SFW only please, Suggestive themes are allowed with a warning however

-Gore’s on the table though, but only if the meme gets involved, or you somehow get a good reason for it, I don’t think Gallagher would just maul you out of nowhere- However since this takes place in the dreamscape blood will be described as water and that’s all that’s gonna spill out-

-Shipping is allowed, I’ll allow any ship unless it’s pr*ship or with Sunday, with the former it’s obvious on why I wouldn’t, gross. You’ll get hit on the offense side of Gallagher’s Ultimate if you try that.

But on Galladay it’s simply cause I’m just not super comfortable with using Gallagher x Sunday after 2.1, hope that’s understandable.

But yeah, as long as you’re follow the shipping rules the sky’s the limit, especially since I see Gallagher as bi

-Mod uses the CDT Timezone and is in education, but otherwise doesn’t have a life, so what I’m saying is the reply times may be random, could be within a minute or two, could be hours, so don’t be upset if an ask isn’t answered immediately

-Anything related to, but not limited to, racism, homophobia/transphobia, sexism, ableism, etc. Is not allowed here.

I’m serious if you come into the askbox with that you’ll get the “Dog” after you:

-Anons are welcome, you can even have a custom tag if you use a sign off and show up enough

-Magic Anons are allowed however only one can be active at a time and they have a 2-5 ask cooldown depending on what the effects where

-You can technically also ask the Meme on this blog, but don’t expect it to say anything other then *STABS YOU STABS YOU STABS YOU STABS YO

Key:

“ “ (Just plain text): Dialogue

“ “ (Same as above but in bold)/“ “ (Purple bold text): (what’s used is dependent on what’s exactly being said) 180 mode Dialogue

(The text for that was originally red however I changed it to purple for two reasons: Reason one being in the lore Acheron uses Red text sometimes and I think it’d be weird if I interacted with an Acheron and she also used red text,

and I changed it to purple specifically cause matches the Meme)

“* *” (Asterisks around text): Action/Movement

“// //“ (Two slashes around text): OOC/Mod talking

Tags:

#🥃bartenders rambles : In character posts/asks

#🐺barred fangs : In character posts/asks when Gallagher pulls the 180 (Aka going “villain” mode, I don’t personally think he’s evil but he can be very creepy in a villainous way and I love that) or basically just steps out of character in a way that’s intended and not bad mod RP

#👁️ The Dog. : Mentions/Discussion of the Memory Zone Meme “Something Unto Death”

#🐾mods yapping : Posts from the mod/OOC posts, not counting OOC moments in the tags of ask posts

#💫care for a drink under the stars? : Interaction reblogs/RPs, whatever with fellow Honkai: Star Rail RP blogs, can be in or out of character

#🪶hounds prey : Interactions with Sunday and/or Robin/Mentions of Sunday and/or Robin

#🧹the bellboy : (there was no mop emoji) Interactions with Misha/Mentions of Misha

(Tags may be added for specific characters and art RBs if I decide to do that, but for now that’s the tags)

Anon Tags:

#🍸 anon

#🥂 anon

#🍀 anon

Side Notes:

-If you’re wondering on the Mod’s pronouns if you didn’t read the bio, the Mod uses Any/All pronouns (like he/she/they/it etc. Idrc-)

-This will include headcanons, if it wasn’t obvious from the “I see Gally as Bi” comment

-It could possibly get OOC at times while I’m in character, I made the blog before 2.2, but I’m trying to stick to the character as well as I can, and if 2.2 changes his character again I’ll attempt to pull something to fit with that

-Mod will refer to himself ether as “The Mod” or “Mod Werewolf”

Other Blogs the Mod Runs if you’d like to check those out:

(disclaimer they’re not all the same fandom)

@the-coolest-character-in-hsr (Hanu from Honkai: Star Rail)

@trash-president-real (Trash President (OC) Honkai: Star Rail)

Anyways hope you enjoy the blog, and avoid getting stabbed by the meme

#🐾mods yapping #Why am I slightly nervous about doing this-#But it’d be a waste to take the username then just. Not launch the blog #So here we go #Plus there are like no Gallagher’s I’ve seen in the RP community-#Guess I need to be him #honkai star rail #honkai star rail roleplay #hsr rp blog #hsr rp #hsr gallagher #gallagher #gallagher hsr

37 notes · View notes

oksurethisismyname · 1 month

Text

Hiiiii as a queer person living in the Bible Belt of the USA, I’m envisioning a “Christian trauma AU / general theology AU” because you know my main focus is always Sanji. This assumed that we’re in the USA, modern era, and I guess maybe a college or post grad AU for how they meet each other? This is a lonnnnnnnng text post so scroll at your own risk. To keep it from being toooo long I’m also sticking to east blue crew.

Hear me out:

There are a million different sects of Christianity so we’ve got a ton of angles to use.

Garp is catholic (but think FRENCH laïcité instead of American Amy Coney Barret Supreme Court justice weird catholic cult), Dragon straight up rebels against the strict structure and goes about his atheist ways. Neither of them really raise Luffy anyway so 💁🏻

Luffy ends up being agnostic. It’s not that he doesn’t believe in a higher power but he knows he needs to take action and that he can’t rely on a higher power to fix the problems of the world. Very Albert Camus, revolting against the absurd and holding himself to a higher responsibility in life

Zoro comes from a Shinto or Buddhist background. He’s not judging anyone’s religious beliefs unless they’re harming others.

Nami has religious trauma from the Baptist church that set up in her town and made it impossible to be herself. Belle Mere is so clearly queer and she’s harassed and dies at the hands of some zealous bigots who were emboldened by the words of the local Baptist church pastor (Arlong)

Ussop comes from a chill Protestant background (maybe Presbyterian?) But he’s more of a CEO (Christmas Easter Only) in terms of actually attending any sort of church. Honestly, with his dad out of the picture and his mom dying, he just had bigger things on his mind like living every day.

Finally, Sanji. Oh boy, Sanji has major “Quiverfull movement Christian” trauma from Judge. For those who don’t know, quiverfull is a Christian extremist movement where the idea is to have as many kids as possible and adhere to very strict purity rules and gender roles. Contraception isn’t allowed. Women wear long skirts and non fitted shirts to hide their womanly form (ew), and most of the time these parents homeschool there kids to avoid the “temptation” or “impurity” of modern society.

Judge had these 5 kids who he’s raised in this faith but Sanji never liked how Judge treated his mom. Why was Sora supposed to be “seen and not heard?” Why was it ok for his brothers to use scripture to bully and hurt and spread hate? Why would a loving god create women just to subjugate them? Judge wouldn’t like this, and once Sora passes away (probably because Judge wouldn’t let her seek medical care post birth of the quadruplets, so her health deteriorated for years), Judge locks him up and makes him do all sorts of horrible “prayer” and “repentance” practices, which are really just abuse.

Sanji would maybe escape when they go into town to get something mundane like a printer or a new wifi router (which only judge is allowed to use the internet). He’d probably bolt first chance he gets and when he meets Zeff, Zeff can recognize the signals of abuse. He takes Sanji in and even though Sanji never believed women were less than men, he still has years of trauma and gender roles beaten into him that he has to unpack.

His choice to cook? That’s a huge rebellion. Wearing tight fitting suits that look sinful? That’s a middle finger to his dad. He always treats women like goddesses because he feels so much guilt for the sins of his father. When he finally joins the Strawhats, he’s so overwhelmed with how free and nonjudgmental they are (of important stuff, obviously they’ll still poke fun at small stuff) that he feels comfortable dropping little comments here and there, opening up.

Ussop will be comforting Nami about something and sanji will tell him is so refreshing to see a man be so nurturing. He goes to Ussop often, asking how he’s so confident sharing his emotions.

Nami will be ordering them around and he’ll do everything she says with a smile, just happy to see her free to do what she wants (which is be a bossy bitch)

Zoro will talk about Kuina one night and Sanji will sob, overwhelmed with joy that she got to have all that strength and a friend like zoro even when faced with hurtful gender expectations.

Luffy above all is the most jarring for him. He grew up hearing about sin and sinners and temptation and evil but when he sees Luffy doing his thing, taking down bad people, fighting for the underdog, he knows that if there is a God (he she it they? Who cares), Luffy is doing their work.

——————

Bonus Gay Cherry on top is that Sanji meets Iva and gets into drag, starts performing, does some events, and through that gender liberation is able to find some peace in who he is, tucking away all the hate he was born into. And he ends up with zoro the end bye

#too long don’t read #one piece christian trauma au???#east blue crew au text post #black leg sanji #monkey d luffy #east blue crew #one piece #text post #cat burglar nami #god usopp #sanji #roronoa zoro

26 notes · View notes

owlespresso · 2 years

Text

pregnancy hcs. ayato, childe, diluc

warnings: spice beneath the cut tbh this is pretty fluffy. I've just had it on the mind for the past few days. Shoutout to @seakicker whose writing I have recently devoured like a wild hog who has found a trove of succulent mushrooms.

ayato

Before you begin exhibiting basic symptoms, he already has his suspicions that you might be pregnant. He can tell from slight changes in mood and extra fatigue and dizziness.

He's overjoyed at the news, of course, but with it comes an entire list of things that you're not allowed to do, eat, or drink. He consults with the proper professionals (only the best for you) and together they carve out a schedule and a list of rules for you.

...Most of it involves not intaking any dangerous foods. However, you're also not granted the opportunity to leave the estate unless he, Toma, or Ayaka are accompanying you. He has a vast network of enemies and rivals and he wouldn't put targeting his pregnant wife past them.

Should you complain about being bored, he coos at you sympathetically and assures you that this is for the sake of the baby's—and your health.

He's incredibly unbothered by any mood swings and it's difficult to be self-conscious when he's all over you. He has a raging breeding/pregnancy kink that he's never bothered to mention, but it's impossible to hide when he's fucking you at every opportunity. He is enamored with plush of your stomach, the fullness of your breasts—he likes to have you on his lap while he's doing paperwork, so he can idly squeeze and tease you, pinching your sore nipples and whispering praises in your ear.

Gods help you when your milk comes in. This man will not leave you ALONE.

childe

Not only is he a terrorist, but he is also a bona-fide family man! He's overjoyed at the news. The words have hardly left your mouth and he is already gathering a plethora of names for you to consider AND talking about the layout of the nursery.

He's building furniture and doing all of your chores and is very excited to go to whatever the Genshin equivalent of IKEA is. Honestly, he might just go hack down some trees and start building with that. He's hyperactive and is also eager to prove to you that he can be a reliable caretaker.

When he's not running all of the errands you would usually take care of, he's at your heels to make sure you have everything you need and that you're not straining yourself. He grabs things off of shelves you can't reach and shoos you away from the sink so he can wash the dishes. Your portion of work around the house is abruptly yanked away from you, so you have plenty of free time.

He lays in bed next to you and rubs gentle circles over your stomach. He murmurs soft reassurances to both you and the baby before you fall asleep. As excited as he would be to have a child, he knows his line of work is extremely dangerous. He doesn't talk about it much, and pivots away from it should you bring it up. He stays awake long into the night, staring at the ceiling as every possibility, good or bad, runs through his head.

During the course of your pregnancy, he ensures you feel well-loved and paid attention to. He spends countless hours loving you into the sheets, rendering you boneless his fingers and his lips and the thick length of his cock.

He hardly leaves your side. When he's not cooking all the weird combination foods you're craving, he's sweeping you off your feet, kissing you and squeezing your tits and cooing about how cute you are, like this. He's just obsessed with his cute little wife and obsessed with being in between your legs, making your thighs shake as you cum around his mouth for the third time.

diluc

Is more nervous than you are. He doesn't typically deal with pregnant people, like ever. He owns a Winery. They're not allowed to drink! He's immediately calling on any and every professional and learning all he can to ensure you have the safest and calmest pregnancy anyone on Teyvat has ever had.

He's a little. Fervent about it, at first. He nearly demands you stay in bed as much as possible and is hesitant when you want to go into town. After much reassurance, however, he will accompany you wherever you want to go... as long as you hold onto his arm the whole time and remain in clear viewing distance.

Similarly to Ayato, he's amassed many enemies and his greatest fear is losing you to them. He's doing his best to keep calm and collected, but he does go through some of the same symptoms that you suffer from, though not as severe as yours. It's both the combined stress of becoming a father and the empathy he feels for you. He doesn't like watching you get sick or upset.

He paces around the house like he's running drills.

But he has everything in hand. He stays home whenever he can afford to and is just... in awe? At the idea that there's going to be a small person who will be like you and him? He hopes the baby is more like you.

He is also very much fascinated with the changes in your body. He's cuddled up to you whenever possible, but that naturally evolves into his hands groping your thighs, gently caressing over your stomach, sparing cursory touches to your chest. Simply sitting next to Diluc often evolves into him fucking you nice and slow into the sheets. Sex with him while you're pregnant is always very tender, often paired with massages before or after.

The warmth he emanates helps to relax tense muscles and the pleasure he lavishes you with helps you forget whatever mood swings or other adverse symptoms you might be facing. Diluc, above all else, is going to take care of you. And if taking care of you mandates that he wring no less than three orgasms from you, you'll just have to cope with it.

#diluc #childe #diluc x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact x reader

640 notes · View notes

st-rarepair-roulette · 7 months

Text

Stranger Things Rarepair Roulette

How to play?

This is an event for making new rarepair content, but with a twist. Challenge yourself to roll the dice and receive a pairing that you’ve never thought of before (or maybe you have, idk your business.)

Sign up begins September 26, and closes October 23. There will be a Google form posted to this account for you to sign up with.

From there each participant will receive a customized randomizer linked to their tailored list to randomize to their heart’s content!

Not sure what to do? Ask for a second die and we will roll you up a prompt to try and start you.

Participants will have to fill out a form with your likes and dislikes, and your rolls will be weighted for your parameters. Participants will also have a place to submit pairings.

How do I submit a pair?

Have a pair you’d love to see written? Maybe your beloved rarepair only has one or two fics and you’d love to see more. Maybe you have a crackship you just can’t get out of your head. Maybe you’re just throwing stuff in for fun.

This is not the rarepair event for big ships give us the weird stuff!

Submit pairings by a separate Google form beginning September 26. submissions will close October 23. Watch here for the submission form to go up. You can also submit a prompt for our writers and authors to choose from.

What are the dates?

Submission and sign up is from Sept 26 to October 23. On November 1, you’ll receive your randomized link and an invite to our discord server. There will be a check in around January 1 that you are still feeling good about the event. Final submissions will be due on or by April 1st. There will be a collection on AO3 open from April 1st to 7th, and you can post on tumblr or X (ugh) with the hashtags #ST Rarepair Roulette or #STRarepairRoulette.

Do you need help?

Yes please God, DM if you would be interested in helping give people pairs and answer questions!

Frequently Asked Questions

What are the requirements?

Minimum of 500 words for a writer and at least a line work art piece.

Are there any other rules?

Only two: no ship or character bashing, this is an open event. And no Artificial intelligence, the goal is to make some more human art for a beloved rarepair.

I want to sign up but I’m nervous that I’ll have to write X or get character X, what are the parameters?

You’ll have to fill out a form with usernames and contact info, and additionally we’ll give you parameter options, like disallowing certain characters, or opting out of any dead dove ships. You may also select up to one favorite character, and your rolls will be weighted to favor ships featuring that character. If you have more questions feel free to shoot a DM.

You will not receive a randomizer that contains your disliked pairs unless the mod made an error but each pair list is tailored to you.

Will X character be included? What about dead dove pairings? Will any pairings be not allowed?

Yes, all characters and pairs are included but because it is random, and we want to be respectful of our author’s parameters, keep in mind that some submitted pairs may not be selected.

All pairs are allowed however the pairings will be weighted in favor of ships with less than 1,000 fics, in the spirit of being a rarepair event.

What if my pair was never selected?

You can hold on to it, who knows, i may do this again.

Who are the mods?

@shieldofiron @applewillowstone @jaylikesrainbowtigers and @intothedysphoria

I already messaged you a submission will it get counted?

Yes, anyone who dmed me or commented on the initial interest check will get counted. If you want to fill out the submission form with prompts or more pairs, feel free.

If I participate can I submit a pair?

Yes, and it will go into the regular drawing like all the others.

If two people submit the same pair does it get two entries?

No, the pair will be entered once, but as the pairing will be randomized there may be two participants who get the same pair.

How are you randomizing?

A randomizer from perchance.org.

Is the mod crazy?

Yes. Crazy for rarepairs.

#stranger things #rarepairs #stranger things rarepair #stranger things rare pairs #ST Rarepair Roulette #STRarepairRoulette #ST Rarepair

50 notes · View notes

dumb-bitchass · 2 months

Note

TALKING about the "Will end someone if you ask him" in the dating HCs what other "unconventional" (=weird asf bc it's Tyler) things would Tyler n reader be into, because he's a lil freak I honestly see him carving his S/O initials into his asscheek or someshit and being like "Babe look what I did <3" and because we're little FREAKS like him and we're allowed to KISS him we'll be like "Omg o-0 💞💞"

Also thank you VERY MUCH for that comfort fic (it's me hehe) and absolutely don't worry if you take a while to do it 💆🫶

(If this is too weird I'm v sorry you don't have to do it, you don't have rules yet so I absolutely have no idea what you do and don't do 😓😓😓)

Tyler Durden x reader unconventional freaky hcs

a/n. this req genuinely made me smile it was a trip to read lmao. i'm pretty umfamiliar with writing this stuff usually it lives in my mind lmao, so i hope it's okay!!! and yayyyy i'm glad you liked the comfort hcs!! i haven't even thought about adding rules yet, thx for the reminder lol 😭

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

•okay guys imma start off strong and say yall have definitely made a blood pact

•no promise rings in sight, only a blood pact <333

•and he would be so enthusiastic about it too, like he loves the idea of being connected to you together through more than just words or a piece of jewelery

•YES he would totally be the guy to carve your initials into his ass, yall are together forever you already know that

•ofc you love this boy, so what do you do upon seeing the initials? initial your own ass with his own <3

•he will love your even longer than forever if you do

•matching lye burns!!!!!!

•hot take but i feel like tyler would maybe probably possibly have a pain kink

•JUST SAYING

•so the lye experience with you would probably be a very "passionate" experience

•yall have def done "it" in the wildest places too, and somehow have never gotten caught, not even suspected

•feel like it'd be pretty realistic if your bedside pictures of eachother weren't just like ":D" but freaky pictures

•the kind you'd put away if you had any guests in your room :)

#fight club #tyler durden #fight club headcanons #fight club x reader #tyler durden x reader

33 notes · View notes

moonlitmeeks · 2 years

Text

༉‧₊˚. what he doesn't know ; remus lupin (1.3k)

summary: sometimes, your older brother sirius doesn’t need to know every detail about your life, especially your love life.

warnings: implied fem!reader, swearing, slightly suggestive towards the end if you squint, inaccurate black family dynamics (aka. grimmauld place is actually a nice home to be in)

a/n: brother's best friend!remus has my heart, actually. hope you enjoy, likes and reblogs are always appreciated!! i edited this down. so much. as i had way too many ideas, so if you want me to post some other little blurbs/instances of remus' subtle flirting, or of sirius finding out, let me know!

masterlist | taglist

unrequited love was a bitch. the familiar sting that accompanied every interaction, the constant reminder that no matter how hard your heart beat around them, it would never be enough to sway theirs. the bitter acceptance that, okay, you couldn’t have them romantically, but to have them at all was more than enough.

but unrequited love for your brother’s best friend? oh, that was basically a death sentence.

a part of you had clung to the hope that your feelings for remus were fleeting, just a silly childhood crush produced by teenage hormones and way too many romance films.

it wouldn’t surprise you.

the first time you had met james, you could hardly get a word out, too flustered by the fact that an attractive, older boy was even speaking to you. it made you laugh now, thinking about it. you and james had grown much closer over time, and you considered him to be like another brother to you.

so it was frustrating that, four years later, remus still had a hold on your heart.

maybe it was his tawny hair, and how it always looked perfectly messy, just begging you to reach out and run a hand through the strands.

or, perhaps, you could credit it to his voice, a tone that was laced with sarcasm when speaking to your brother, but softened when directed towards you.

his personality also couldn’t be overlooked. how someone could perfectly balance kindness, humour, intelligence and mischief, you’d never know.

if you were being honest, it was everything about him. remus lupin had you wrapped around his bloody finger and he didn’t even realise.

though, you couldn’t do anything about it, thanks to him being sirius’ best friend. telling him was out of the question: even if, in some weird universe, he returned your feelings, sirius would never allow it. not that he could stop you, of course, but he’d definitely make his displeasure obvious every time he saw the two of you together.

sucking it up was your only option. you’d dealt with this ache for four years. you could deal with it for four more.

so when sirius announced a movie night with you two and the other marauders, a movie night suggested by remus himself, you struggled to mask your enthusiasm with nonchalance.

“don’t see why not,” you shrugged with a ghost of a smile. “sounds like it could be fun.”

“you’re sure you don’t mind?” sirius asked. “i’d tell him to piss off, but i think he’s desperate to get his mind off of exams.”

“don’t. it’s only a few films, not like he’s asking for a lung or something.”

“brilliant,” sirius grinned, moving to ruffle your hair in true older brother fashion. “i’ll let him know. cheers, y/n.”

“i’m great, i know,” you jested, holding back an excited expression.

it was only in the secrecy of your own room you let out a squeal into your pillow.

an evening spent with your unrequited crush in a dark, dimly lit room. it would make for an exciting evening, if you could get through it without combusting, of course.

unbeknownst to you, remus was also struggling with cupid’s arrow. it was the only reason he’d persuaded sirius to have this stupid movie night, just for a chance to spend a couple of hours in your company to get his fix of you in an unassuming way. liking your best friend’s sister had to go against multiple rules of friendship, but remus was done berating himself.

sirius would kill him if he knew the truth, so remus was determined to keep his feelings to himself. that, unfortunately, meant keeping them from you, too.

not that he hadn’t hinted at his attraction. there’d been plenty of times he’d been a little too friendly with you, shot you flirty grins, paid you gratuitous compliments. he’d managed to mask it as an attempt to be welcoming and comforting, and luckily sirius was yet to notice.

unfortunately, remus’ patience was wearing thin, and subtlety was the farthest thing from his mind tonight, sirius be damned. you were both adults now. if sirius didn’t like it, he’d have to suck it up.

this time, he didn’t tear his gaze each time it wandered to your face. he treated himself to the sight of your side profile, delighting in each gasp and laugh the film drew from you. a large jumper hugged your upper body, and with your legs tucked up to your chest, you looked like the epitome of comfort. remus would do anything to come home to a sight like that, his only complaint that the jumper you wore wasn’t his.

remus’ stare burned into the side of your face, and if you hadn’t brought your hand up to cup your heating cheeks, you’d be sure you were melting. whilst your heart whispered that your feelings were reciprocated, your brain struggled to come up with a counter argument for his fixation.

the film was interesting enough, some sort of action-filled drama, so boredom wasn’t a possibility. though, even if he was to zone out, there were plenty of other things to catch his attention. but, remus had chosen to unabashedly stare at you, drinking in every glimpse he could catch of your face.

surely that had to mean something, something that teetered precariously on the edge of friendship and romance.

you dared a smile, raising an eyebrow in a wordless question. part of you hoped he'd look away, but you secretly delighted in his sudden confidence.

remus quirked a brow back, poking his tongue out from between slightly cracked lips. now your focus had been drawn to his lips, mind racing to wonder how they’d feel against your own.

would his kisses be slow, calculated with every movement? or fast, sloppy and fuelled by pure desire. maybe it was a mixture of the two, gentle caresses paired with sinful noises. it was a thought that, if you were standing, would make you weak in the knees. it was getting to be too much, and you jumped up.

“i’m gonna get a drink. anyone want anything?”

the boys replied with a chorus of different drinks, overlaps of ‘water’, ‘beer’, and ‘lemonade’ coming from every angle. you mentally noted them down, heading for the door.

“i’ll help.”

not giving you time to thank him, remus had already sprung from his seat, making his way towards the kitchen.

well, fuck. that plan had failed. curse him and his insanely charming kindness.

you followed the boy, trailing slightly behind him as you tried to compose yourself. the chatter of the others became muted as the door closed, trapping you and remus in your own little bubble.

you were determined to look everywhere but him, putting too much attention towards grabbing five cups from the top shelf of the cupboard.

two large hands grabbed your hips, and you yelped in shock. you were spun around to meet hazel eyes, and inches away from your face was remus, breathing heavily as his eyes roamed across your features.

it was as if he was in an art gallery and you were the portrait; he wanted to note every last detail of your face, from the curve of pouted your lips to the slight furrow in your brows, down to every last mark or freckle. remus wouldn’t be satisfied until he had discovered everything about you.

“shit, remus–”

“if you tell me to stop, i will,” he interjected. “but don’t tell me to stop because of sirius. only tell me to stop if you want to.”

you shook your head, swallowing hard, though you couldn’t bring yourself to utter a protest. desire had taken over your moral conscience with ease, tipping the scales right into lust.

his voice was low, mouth only an inch away from the shell of your ear. if you weren’t so desperate to feel his touch, your close proximity to your brother and friends would have produced more than feigned concern.

“he’ll go mad.” you observed, leaning into his touch anyways.

“i reckon what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” he pressed a chaste kiss to your neck, nipping at the skin ever so slightly. “don’t you think?”

and as his lips finally met yours, the two meshing like lock and key, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

🧸 ; @bluetreecloud20 @milkiangl @tayswiftlovebot @starlit-epiphany @mirclealignr @ladylokilaufeyson5 @bberee @decafcoffew

#🏷 ; bee's writing!#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #marauders #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders imagine #marauders x y/n

415 notes · View notes

southshoretides · 7 months

Text

Type of Guy Who Fears The Void

On the object level, I think this DeBoer piece correctly identifies a certain type of person (aging white man who self-consciously and showily hates all aging-white-guy pop culture in favor of trying to stay hip), but as the commenters implicitly/explicitly point out, that type of guy is concentrated among the east-coast-grad-educated-tastemaker-social-media-part-time-writer set, i.e. Freddie's milieu, which he often tricks himself into believing is the only milieu in the world. Go to any bar in the Midwest and poll the natives on BTS-vs-Pearl Jam and you'll get different results. (Freddie is of course interminably contrarian relative to whatever his local milieu is, and if fate had brought him to Kansas instead of Brooklyn, he'd be the most red-tribe-hating, pining-for-Brooklyn's-loving-embrace guy on the internet.)

But the meta level of "People recognize that the world naturally puts them in stereotypical boxes and either fight to escape that or wholeheartedly embrace it" is something I think about a lot. That first paragraph was all about different Types of Guy, and that's all it is these days, isn't it? Type of guy, type of guy, type of guy. A whole generation of internet-raised autists can pinpoint your political beliefs based on how you dress or what kind of car you drive. "Guy who makes youtube videos while driving his SUV and wearing wraparound sunglasses" is a different type of guy than "Guy who insists that Carly Rae Jepsen is the best songwriter of the 2010s" but they are politically and culturally opposite Types of Guy, even though there's no rule that says Democrats can't drive SUVs or Republicans can't like Carly Rae Jepsen. But the trend-lines are strong enough that people notice anyway.

@max1461 occasionally gripes about how quickly and thoughtlessly people transpose is-statements with ought-statements, or in other words, take objective factual data about something and try to force it into a prefab narrative. And it certainly is annoying, but to an extent it's like making fun of cavemen for thinking every rustle of grass is a tiger. That's what their environment is giving them, and it's what their brains adapt for. What our environment is giving us is an endless parade of people who eagerly and effusively promote their political and cultural opinions, and eagerly and effusively identify those opinions with such and such group, so no wonder it's so easy for even an amateur to unearth a Type of Guy. No wonder you can look at someone with a Roman-statue avatar and predict with reasonable accuracy his thoughts on young women who dye their hair. And I think this is something the internet makes worse, not better.

I think any objective accounting of the situation would have to conclude that it's easier to be an eccentric in 2023 than in 1993. The internet has allowed weird people to find each other, talk to each other, understand each other and themselves in a way that simply didn't exist before. At the very least, you don't get that "Am I the only human on earth who's like this?" feeling. And the cheap, Hallmark version of diversity/eccentricity is still a popular cultural value: those wall-hangings and birthday cards your aunt buys say "Be Yourself: Everyone Else is Taken", not "Yourself sucks, Be Someone Else." No one wants to be seen as the stodgy, bitter old fart. Part of it, I'm sure, is a cultural thing--Americans seem to obsess over individuality and being one's truest self more than others.

And yet...there's also this ambient sense that eccentricity-in-itself has been devalued in 2023 relative to 1993, at least in my circles. Everything from eccentric tastes in art ("What are you, some kind of hipster filmbro?"), sex ("Of course I'm sex-positive but weird creepy shit doesn't count!") or politics ("You don't really think that, you're just being edgy.") People who value weirdness and eccentricity for its own sake feel hemmed in by people who either openly see it as a threat to their own culture's local hegemony. A lot of the internet really does seem to live by the 'nail that sticks out gets hammered down' and sees that as a good thing. Seems paradoxical.

(For the record, I'm not laying the blame here at any particular subculture. Conservatives blather on about freedom and liberty and then say anyone who refuses to lick an HOA's balls is a dangerous subversive. Progressives say everyone is valid and beautiful and then plaster their spaces with various 'freaks DNI' equivalents, 'freak' status being determined by vibe-centric whisper campaigns. Liberals will Celebrate Diversity up to and no further than the point where it damages quarterly profits. No "name" group is immune to this, really, but certain subgroups are.)

A theory: the normie-weirdo ratio isn't particularly different than it used to be, but the way they interact is different. In the pre-internet days, the weirdos were well aware they were weird, and in having to navigate normie-land with psychological armor on, at least they might come to understand it somewhat. Now, for those who want it, there's an unending stream of validation and insistence that you're perfect the way you are. Without shading into the "can suffering be a good thing if it leads to change for the better?" argument, I think even people who are all-in on the answer being "no" have met at least one person defined by their self-actualization curdling into selfishness and narcissism, to the point where you can't understand how they function, in a way that is directly attributable to a having a stable of pseudonymous online enablers. That's a real phenomenon the way that "Shut up and repress, you freak" is a real phenomenon. They can both suck. They can even both suck in ways that make the other one worse.

The post-mainstream, pre-social-media 'Golden Age' of the internet was when it was basically a playground for weird people. Now everyone's on it by necessity, the weirdo-in-a-small-town dynamics are back, but now the whole world is the small town with the added "no one can ever really escape for good" dynamics of the internet tracking and recording and monetizing every aspect of human interaction.

The weirdos who are old enough to remember when the internet was their turf close ranks and start watching each other for the first signs of Turning Normie--itself something that's antithetical to actually following one's own star and drawing from whatever cultural tradition you find satisfying. The weirdos who aren't old enough grin and bear it because "you're constantly being judged by everyone" is just normal life for them. The stuff that's so popular that liking it puts you in the biggest box possible will benefit; stuff that was never gonna be popular under any circumstances will keep trucking. It's the cultural middle class, as usual, that suffers the most. Again, as I keep emphasizing, this cultural panopticon being both unending and global is unprecedented in human history.

I really think a lot of current cultural neuroses are due to this, although I can't really prove it and don't have the resources to research it. This sense of modern technology revealing to people how fundamentally uninteresting they are and rebelling against it explains a lot to me--the tendency of people to ideologically self-sort to narrower and narrower levels, the uncanny ability of observers to categorize even the relatively-novel versions of those self-sorts, the tendency of some people to just give up and openly embrace everything the hivemind says about them, "be yourself" as a zombified and omnipresent cultural meme when millions of people are struggling existentially with exactly that, every culture absorbing ambient victim-mentality and thinking they're the only right-living people in a world gone mad, the 'cultural class' getting deeper and deeper into objectively-adolescent pop-cultural obsessions and lashing out at the idea they should try something more challenging, the aging-out-of-relevance hipsters Freddie discusses being mortified by the idea of being perceived as exactly that.

The problem, for me at least, is that I understand there is a way out, and if anything it feels worse. I may be a bit younger than the type-case Freddie describes, and am not in an industry where I have to constantly prove my relevance to myself and others, but I am doing the opposite of aging gracefully. Instead of constantly trying to convince my social circle (I don't have a social circle) that having the political, cultural, and artistic preferences of a 21-year-old means I still am one at heart, I engage in the much-healthier practice of spending every waking moment fantasizing being 21 or 18 or, shit, even 14 again. I know nobody really likes getting older. I also think that if everyone was as obsessive and self-loathing about it as I am, society would cease to function. My regrets and pining are definitely unhealthy, obsessive and all-consuming, but I don't really talk about them because there's no way it ends other than "Yeah, that sucks."

But a lot of the people in Freddie's comment section are saying things like "Once I realized I was fundamentally unimportant and my opinions didn't really matter, I could get down to raising my kids/doing my job, which matters more than my feelings." And maybe ten years from now I'll be OK with that. Hell, maybe I'll actually have kids, unlikely as that sounds now. Right now that mindset sounds like a self-administered lobotomy. Maybe I'd be OK with it if I'd actually lived it up in my teens and twenties, tried to become an actual person and discovered what I like about myself, instead of just vaguely Following Rules and assuming there was a payoff to that. Maybe I'd accept that there comes a point in life where my destiny is to be a good parent/worker and that necessarily implies shaving off the hard bits of your personality. Or maybe even the people who were good at being young struggle with getting old. Maybe our cultural/technological moment is just making that a struggle for everyone. Guess I'll never know.

But as we creep closer to no one's parents, then no one's grandparents, remembering a world without the eternal and all-consuming Now of the internet, I suspect I won't be the only one aging with a complete lack of grace, and I suspect we as a culture are completely unprepared to deal with it.

#discourse #aging #culture #the internet

28 notes · View notes