#hanasnx

[glossykissies]

telling some guy that you’re celibate but you tell clark he can nail your shit 🎶🎶

“celibate.”

the word left your lips so often it didn’t even feel like a word anymore. any time a guy got too close, any time there was a guy you didn’t want to touch you — celibate. you were celibate. yes it is a choice, no you can’t change my mind.

you had needs, of course you did — needs you were mostly happy with fulfilling yourself, because lord knows the guys around you wouldn’t know how to please you. you heard the horror stories from your girl friends, about how they’d get jack hammered for 3 minutes, or if they’re lucky — two fingers jammed inside them, digging for loose change between couch cushions. you were happy to be alone.

you often wondered how men could feel such uncontrollable lust, the type that makes them say such vulgar things out loud. all the disgusting terms you’d learnt, you’d learnt from the disgraceful propositions you’d received, or ‘compliments’ that you were meant to be thankful for. “i’d nail her shit.” one says when you walk by him. you’re more interested by his word choice than anything.

all of a sudden you understand when clark comes around. the ridiculous tidal wave of lust that filled your body. your poor virgin hole that would quiver when he’d smile humbly at you in passing or help lift something heavy, biceps rippling. you’d watched him peel his sweaty tshirt off his body whilst mowing the grass on the farm enough times for you to be able to memorise how it looks perfectly in your mind when you’re furiously rubbing yourself at night time. you were beginning to feel less in control. you were beginning to feel less celibate.

you know he’d look after you. he was respectful and competent and big in all the ways that left nothing to the imagination. he wouldn’t pressure you, he’d take the time to learn all your spots — just the thought had you pressing your legs together, and soon it was too much to handle. you became drunk on the thought of him having you, soon enough winding up in his barn, pawing at him, whining.

“i just want it to be you, clark i — i trust you!” you almost groan, gripping at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin.

“hey, what’s gotten into you?” he asks, voice filled with concern, tone still gentle as he wraps ginormous fingers around your wrists and effortlessly pries you off, trying to level himself with you. “you said you were celibate, i — i think it’s important you stick to your own rules, you know? you don’t wanna do anything you regret down the line.” he has the audacity to blush adorably, placing two hands on the tops of your arms to steady you incase you try to lurch for him again.

you were so needy that embarrassment had evaded you and tears filled your eyes. you shake your head.

“i only said that to guys because i didn’t want them, i… i want you clark, please.” you sound defeated and he softens, staring at you as he susses you out. you suck in a gulp, eyes fluttering as you ready yourself to repeat the vulgar words you once had placed upon you. “‘want you to nail my shit.” it comes out slightly rushed, slurred, bordering on a desperate groan. his eyebrows lift.

“you…what? you taught you that, sweet girl?” he’s babying you now and it’s not helping, cupping your cheek in concern— because who on earth could teach such an innocent girl such foul language?

“clark…” you manage a whisper, this time taking his hand. he allows you now, eyes curiously following as you shakily drag it to your crotch before stuffing it into your panties, shuddering at the feeling of his coarse fingers sliding experimentally over your slit until it finds the sticky honeypot of arousal at the centre of the fabric, soaking through obscenely.

“wow… you really need it, huh?” he breathes, voice laced with awe.

“you, i need you.” you correct, matching his tone as you search his eyes for any more hesitation. his confidence returns, falling back into his regular calm and self assured self as he adjusts to the situation.

“well i think i can help you explore that. why don’t you lay down over here?”

[princessbrunette]

do you have any thoughts on nympho!gf with rafe to share with the class (me. just me)

okay indy and just indy, here’s my take. (we are talking like, fanfic definition of nympho and not the real, life ruining version — ofc. we like to keep it light over here.)

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

he’s kind of smug when he first gets together with you, all frat like and imposing on your sweet and demure self. he thinks, there’s no way on earth this chick fucks — i’m gonna have to break her in.

and hey, maybe rafe’s dick is just that good — because as soon as you get used to taking him, he notices a shift in your personality. a hunger in your eyes that borders on deranged. you started to need it all the time.

you’d played tricks on him, texting him when he’s at the golf club telling him to come home asap and that it was an emergency, only to race home and find you all upset because, and he quotes, your ‘pussy was aching and you need help’. the frustration this caused only made him fuck you harder and worsen your obsession.

no amount of sit down talks could abstain you, just a glossy, dazed gaze when he tries to be stern with you and tell you off. the “you need to learn to keep your god damn hands to your self. understand me? i’m — i’m out here doing real grown up business, and you’re distracting me just for some dick. behave, i mean it.” only arousing you further.

it was great at times, he’ll admit — that glossy, aching hole always ready and available to work his frustrations out on after a long day. but he could pound that cunt through the night, and still wake up to you tearfully slobbering on it in the morning, or even riding him into the bed as he drowsily wakes up and groans. nothing was enough.

as he aged and matured, he started to find ways to get a hold of you. doing his best to totally ignore you, typing away at his computer in his office as you finger yourself on the couch. “see that? sometimes you have to do shit for yourself, kid. gotta use that brain sometimes, don’t you?” he glances at you, eyes briefly lingering on the way your pretty pussy shines under the glow of his lamp.

in public you’re harder to manage, making bold moves like grabbing his shaft through his pants when he’s mid conversation with topper, or interjecting to loudly ask him to fuck you. he’s quick to lean down to your ear and whisper through gritted teeth. “shit, you better sit on your hands. am i gonna have to put a padlock on your panties or something? jesus. you grab my dick one more time and i’ll give you the public spectacle you clearly want so fuckin’ bad. slap you round that needy face. you want that? no? shut up then, a’ight?”

of course, his threats only get you wetter.

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ ౨ৎ⋆ ˚｡⋆

[avaxindy]

come over?

fratboy!indy x reader | minors dni | happy b-day indy

summary: late at night, indy texts you. it’s ambiguous. he doesn’t say why. since you’re just friends, you don’t assume anything by it. but when you arrive at his frat house, things get really heavy really fast.

features: @hanasnx fanfiction, sexual content, dry humping, light choking, explicit language, friends to lovers?, emotional manipulation, slight dubious consent

Your phone vibrates once and then twice a minute later while you are washing your face. The first assumption is that your best friend is trying to convince you to go clubbing with her at the last minute because the baseball team was seen out. You’ll never understand her obsession with them. Just like she’ll never understand your obsession with Indy.

You’re just lucky that your types are polar opposite. Because everyone else seems to have eyes for him. Everyone. And of course, you understand. How could you not crush hard over him? He just has this... way about him that drives you crazy. You’re not even sure he does it intentionally.

After you dry your face and moisturize, you lean over and tap your phone screen. You nearly shriek when you see his name. And the message that reads: come over?

You curse yourself for taking off your pretty clothes and your makeup. Not that Indy ever minded you without makeup. But if you showed up like you look now, you worry he might not get the hint that you like him.

He’s never invited you to hang out this late before. Sometimes you’ll hang out late because your hangouts run overtime. But when you’re with him, you never want to leave. All you can do is hope that he might feel the same way too. The hours you’ve spent analyzing your friendship with Indy is humiliating. You pay attention to his Insta posts and Snap stories, noting where he is and who he’s with. At every frat party hosted by his fraternity, girls practically throw themselves at his feet, and you get jealous every time he flirts back. But to your knowledge it rarely progresses further than that. He has a few exes from his years at the school, but they’ve always spoken highly of him.

You suspect that they’re the ones who have spread rumors about what he can do under the sheets. It’s something that he keeps very private. You suppose a guy like him doesn’t need to brag about his conquests. Girls just know. And you’re drawn to the confidence he gives off.

But what started as you trying to hook up with him ended in you inevitably wanting something more. You’d love to be his girlfriend. And everyone says that he likes you a lot, everyone but him. He’s not so direct about his feelings with you.

There was one time at the movies he leaned in to whisper something in your ear, and you swore he was going to kiss you. To this day you have no clue what he told you. You were too anxious to pay attention to his words. The sensation of his breath against your skin was too much for you to handle.

The truth is... you might not be able to take it if he actually wants you. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Having what you have wanted all along seems like something that only happens in the movies.

As you frantically reapply your makeup, he texts you again: why aren’t u in my bed rn

While that might seem like he’s texting you for sex, Indy has a special kind of humor that you understand. He’s really just saying that he misses you.

You type out a quick response: Promise im about to leave.

He just hearts the message.

You pick out your outfit, electing for a lulu tennis skirt and a cropped hoodie. The worst thing to do in this situation would be to overdress.

When you pull up to his frat house, you realize that you should have walked from your dorm. There’s a party going on, and parking is shit. You have to park from across the street in a big lot, empty this time of the day. His frat house is at the end of the row. It’s a long and annoying walk, but it’s worth it to spend time with him although you really weren’t in the mood for a party. You have an 8am class tomorrow (Friday).

Passing by, you spot his black Camaro in his parking space up front. You know it’s his from the dark-green stripe on the side. He teases you that he owns that color. He calls it Indy green.

The guys running security for the event immediately let you in when you come up to the door. You figure they must know who you are because you’re always here during the day. Actually, you were here this morning studying with Indy. He has a test tomorrow. Maybe he invited you over for a quick cram session. You should have brought your backpack.

People are crammed elbows to elbows in the little two-story. Outside too. Half of the campus must be here. You finally find a familiar face, one of the younger pledges, and you ask him where Indy is. He points upstairs. Maybe Indy wasn’t in the mood for a party. You’ll ask him later.

He lives in the first room after the staircase. He likes it because he only has one neighbor.

You knock first. A couple seconds later, he answers. Evanescence plays in the background softly. You think... it’s a song from Fallen, but you can’t be sure. Knowing him it probably is.

“Hi,” he says, leaning against the door frame. He makes it look small. 

He waves you in. You notice his shiny black nails. He must have just painted them. You grab his hand as you enter and bring his fingers close to your eyes. He has model hands. His hands are decorated with thick and thin steel rings, silver and black. He curls his long fingers around yours.

“What’re you lookin’ at,” he laughs, an impish smirk spanning his lips. 

“They’re pretty, Indy.” You want to shove them in your mouth.

He pulls you along to his bed, and you sit beside him. Running a hand through his dark hair, he looks down at you and stares. His eyes sparkle. Something is different in the way he’s looking at you. You hope he feels it too.

“Did you want to study?” you ask, testing the waters. It’s the path of least resistance to find out why he asked you over.

He snorts and flicks the side of your arm. “Tonight? On a Thursday?”

You nod. “Yeah? You have a test tomorrow.”

“We studied. I’ve got it. I’m not worried.” He narrows his eyes. “Is that why you thought I wanted you to come over?”

“Maybe.”

He looks away and clasps his hands on his lap or picks at the tears in his faded jeans. “You’re wrong.”

“Why did you—”

Indy cuts you off. “Cause I wanted to spend time with you. Got tired of that fucking party ‘cause it’s shit without you. The guys told me not to bring a date this time.” Indy lies down on his bed, situating himself with his head on the pillow. He turns his body to face you.

In the midnight sheets, his skin is ghostlike. Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a figment of your imagination. He’s too pretty to be real.

You lie down beside him. This isn’t uncommon. He likes to cuddle sometimes when he’s in the mood. The metal beads on his leather bracelet are cold on your stomach. He holds you close to his chest for a minute or two before turning on his back to reach for the tv remote.

“Wanna watch something?” he asks, switching the tv on.

You shrug. “I don’t care. Only if you do.”

“If... you don’t care,” he whispers.

You don’t need to look up to know what he’s watching. Almost every time you guys hang out like this, he watches Batman Beyond. Hasn’t he seen it at least four times at this point? Nevertheless, you enjoy watching it with him. It’s really the only time you’ve witnessed him completely geek out over something. He’ll pause the show to answer any question you have. The way he comes alive when he talks to you about the things he adores is so precious to you. Even though you’re very, very familiar with the characters now, you still act like you aren’t, just so you can ask him about them. You like the way he explains things. He’s so confident, and it’s seductive, and you don’t want to wait anymore. You can’t. You need to kiss him. Maybe you should ask for permission, but you know he’d tease you for it. So, you decide to go for it while he’s lying there beside you.

Pushing up on the bed, you hover over him for a moment. Instantly, he notices and gazes into your eyes. Indy’s face is blank, void of all emotion and judgment. You can’t know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t let you. But you can’t back down. You’ve already committed to showing him what you want.

Indy’s lips are softer than you expected. Your mouth fits to his like puzzle pieces. You tangle your fingers in his hair. And he lets you kiss him for what feels like hours. You know that it’s only a moment truly. But you wish it could go on all night long.

Satisfied, you sit up, and he follows. He speaks first before you could even get a word in to explain yourself.

“If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just said it.”

Flustered, you look away. “I’m sorry. I’m so dumb, Indy. I know you don’t want me like that.”

“Who says?”

You only shrug. No one’s ever said that, but he’s never made it clear that he wants more than friendship

Indy leans close. He holds up his hand. “Can I grab you here?” Gently, he wraps his fingers around your neck like he wants to choke you.

You swallow and feel the motion of your throat collide with his skin. “Yes,” you whisper.

His grip tightens, not by much. As he falls on you, Indy pushes you down onto the bed, holding you by the neck. His sinful mouth devours yours as his weight crushes you into the pillows and bed sheets. The kiss turns wet when his tongue slips inside, and he explores you. Before Indy, you had always thought girls were just were exaggerating when they said he had his tongue down my throat

His bangs tickle your forehead and the side of your face. His hair almost reaches his shoulders now, but you like it long. It’s easier to tug on and play with, especially in moments like these. Between your fingers, his hair is taut silk darker than demons’ eyes. He moans into you when you tug, and he seems to like it hard.

When he’s finished, Indy leaves your mouth sensitive and wet with an exchange of fluids. You lick them, savoring the leftovers, and all you can think about is more. More from him. More of him.

His silver chains dangle around his neck and catch the dimmed bedroom light. Through the loose neckline of his shirt, you see milky skin, and you start to lift his shirt to touch him.

“Baby, you wanna go all the way, huh?” He lets go of your throat to take off his shirt. The dark fabric slides up his lithe body. His hair is tousled from the action. “Didn’t know you were that hot for me. Dammit, why did you wait so long to do something about it?”

“Why did you?” you look up at him with your eyes big and wide, lips pouting. It’s true. You had wanted him to move in on you first. But time had made you impatient.

“Didn’t wanna ruin us...” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist, nestling his face in the sweet curve of your neck. “What we have is so good.”

“I think it’s worth the risk,” you whisper.

He sighs lowly, very contently. “That’s just what I thought too.” He kisses your shoulder. And he starts grinding his hips into you, needing the friction, his budding erection digging into you already. “Want it now, baby?”

[lunarnightt]

Can someone please explain to my hanasnx has me blocked? I genuinely liked their writing and have no clue of what I did.

Please explain

[anakinsbbgirl]

have u played mass effect

I have >:3

[hayden-christensen]

manifesting you get that kenobi dvd for your gif sets brother

haha thank youuuu I do have it pre-ordered it’s just not releasing internationally until june but I want it nowwwwww

[harrisonbrainrot]

https://www.tumblr.com/tornandwretched/730370419389071360/the-masculine-urge-to-make-all-her-decisions-for

han

Indy..

INNNDYY!!!

[erosmutt]

I hate that hanasnx blocked me (at the time I get why) because he's such a good fucking writer and I miss reading his stuff 😭

[cammy0099]

cammy you reblogged my kevin drabble which must mean you want me. i’m pulling up with flowers rn

i do want u

awww flowers uu shouldn’t have 💐

alsoo i have no idea who kevin is but he’s hot n i have a crush on him now cus of you indy

[glossykissies]

i feel like u could do wonders with the scenario of clark kent giving your clit a rub to calm down while he’s driving his truck around

in reference to this … ♡

his brows are furrowed as he listens, sympathy etched all over his expression as you rant, being a little bitchier than was due for the situation as he drives the two of you to your destination.

“—and chloe’s just gonna be pressing me for information on what happened because that’s what she does n’i don’t wanna deal with that tonight. i don’t even wanna go.” you huff, folding your arms stubbornly warranting a glance over from your very patient boyfriend.

“hey don’t say that, you’ve been super excited for this… and chloe’s not gonna bother you about last week. i already talked to her.” he explains calmly, focusing in on the road. you flop back into your seat, head snapping towards him.

“oh, so now your friends are gonna think i’m your nagging girlfriend. great.” you’re full on pouting now, and as the light turns red clark sighs, resting an arm on the steering wheel and tilting his head with a pleading look.

“baby, don’t you think you’re getting a little worked up? no one thinks that, believe it or not i am friends with some pretty understanding people. just try and relax, once we’re there i’m sure you’ll have a great time.” you’re not sure why you persist in resisting him when his voice is just so soothing and grounding, but you’re feeling particularly bratty so you put your foot down, line between your brows deepening.

“and if i don’t?” you challenge and he grins, sitting back in his seat as the light turns green.

“then you can hang onto my arm the whole night, only talk to me and have a horrible time. did i mention i’m terrible at small talk?” he jests, but you’re not in the mood for it, letting out a loud and deliberate sigh. “no? don’t tell me i’m on a joke ban tonight.”

his continuation of theatrics makes you irate, and not because he wasn’t funny but because you were determined to be in this mood after such a long and tiring week, but he was making it so hard to lash out. he was just so damn loveable.

“you’re not funny clark, seriously i’ve had a terrible week and — and everything is just getting on my last nerve and —” as you rant, shrill and displeased, clark continues to drive, nodding in understanding with that same patient expression — except now he’s reaching over and un-popping the button on your mini-skirt without looking, pulling down the zipper.

you know exactly what he’s up to, but you continue to throw your miniature tantrum as he stuffs his huge hand into your panties, swiping through your folds to find your clit. your breath catches as you bitch away, and for the first time you stumble just slightly over your words, heat rushing to your face.

“mhm?” clark coos with now faux sympathy, not missing a beat as he strokes the familiar pearl. you spread your legs wider to accommodate the sheer size of his hand, a bodily response that you succumbed to without thought despite your best efforts.

“—‘nd — you— you shouldn’t have — have said what you — uhm— you shouldn’t have told — mmph—” you lose yourself to it, eventually giving in as your head lulls, eyes fluttering closed as you let clark rub your clit in soothing circles, making that pleasured fire pit in your stomach grow and your arousal purr for him.

“i know. had a big week, baby. just calm down now, okay?” he speaks quietly as to not break the supposed trance he had you under, smiling to himself when he feels you bucking your hips into his hand.

[princessbrunette]

i dont remember if you said you watched enough of community to reference this episode, but annie has like a public temper tantrum about not getting her way and its fascinated me since i watched it. like she was thrashing and whining about how she was better and it wasnt fair etc etc. you think rafe's girl would be capable of acting out like that or does he have you on a tight leash

this is the scene he’s talking about guys hehe

first of all i expressed this in dms but combining annie who is literally me as a character and rafe was a genius decision and im tongue fucking your brain for that.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚👛

he’d like to think he’s got you on a tight leash, hand on the back of your neck giving it a warning squeeze when you act up in public. pulling you to a corner to give you a little slap on the cheek and say “hey, m’not playin’ around tonight, a’ight? behave yourself.” giving your hair a little tug to shut you up when need be.

however, when things are too much and the emotions are too strong — you’ll brave any punishment or poor treatment from your boyfriend to fully just have a meltdown on him. it’s uncontrollable, and once it starts it can’t stop. you’re standing in the centre of the country club all of a sudden wailing at him, smacking at his chest, pushing and hitting. there’s tears down your face as he tries to hoist you up to drag you away but you wriggle free until you’re protesting on the ground, thrashing and screaming. people clutch their pearls, wondering if something awful happened to have you behaving this way, and rafe is just about ready to explode.

with the strength of someone capable of snapping your neck there and then to shut you up, rafe thrusts your body up into his arms and over his shoulder as you continue to kick and cry like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. he practically throws you into his truck and forces the seatbelt over your body before gripping your face.

“hey, hey you fuckin’ stop that right now alright? you pull that shit on me ever again and i’ll leave you on the floor of the country club to embarrass you. i-i don’t know what the hell has gotten into you but you cut that shit out now, do you understand— right now!” he roars, and it’s enough to soften your cries to gentle sniffles, pulling your knees to your chin on the seat. he runs his hands over his red face and pushes his hair back before returning his gaze to you.

“now what the hell was that about, huh? and if you start yelling again, so help me god i will give you somethin’ to really fuckin’ cry about.”

he absolutely walks you around to apologise to everyone individually the next time you go to the country club, not even bothering to hide the grip he has on the back of your neck as he does so. you can act up all you want, but you won’t embarrass him like that again. or hey, maybe he’ll walk you back in straight after your tantrum whilst you look all messed up— just to humiliate you the way he feels you deserve.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚👛

[avaxindy]

tea and honey.

was in a silly mood and decided to write about fixing @hanasnx some tea in response to this post.

You are lying on the bed together in the early afternoon, both of you choosing to spend the day relaxing instead of worrying about the things around the house that probably need your attention. These are your favorite kind of days. Indy’s on his side of the bed looking at his phone. And you are curled up beside him with your nose in a book.

He’s been quiet all morning. So, hearing his voice startles you.

“Hey,” he nudges you softly with his elbow.

You look up to meet his bright blue eyes heavily outlined in charcoal. “Hi,” you whisper back, closing your book.

He rubs your back with his hand. “Can you make me some tea?”

Even though you’ve known him for a long time, you can’t stop your heart from racing when he looks into your eyes. “Of course.”

After giving his arm a quick kiss, you rise out of bed and make your way to the kitchen. You love doing things for Indy whenever he acts. It makes you feel useful, and it’s a way you show that you care.

You start with filling the kettle with water and boiling it on the stove. While it’s heating, you look in the pantry for his favorite tea. He especially likes green tea.

Once the water is boiling, you pour it into his Batman mug and steep the tea bag for exactly five minutes. You grab the honey from the counter and squeeze about a teaspoon or two into the cup. It makes it thicker and sweeter.

A few minutes later you deliver the tea to him on a potholder and set it down on his nightstand.

He smiles thinly when he sees you and opens his arms to you. “C’mere, baby.”

Eagerly, you crawl back into bed with him. He spoons you, wrapping his arms tightly about your waist and settling his chin over your shoulder. Knowing him, he might hold you here for hours, but that worries you because of the tea. He likes it piping hot.

“Your tea’s getting cold, Indy.”

He mumbles into your skin. “One more minute. Not ready to let go.”

[foreverburningstar]

omg ur new theme. the pink!!!

omgomg u saw it!?? 🤭

i was in a pink mood and i thought i should probably change some things and ta-da! you’re the second person to notice 🫂

[mcondance]

agreeing with myself and all of your followers - ur generally the kindest, sweetest, most supportive person u can be to literal strangers on the internet for no reason

you’ve got a strong sense of humor which most ppl are prone to misinterpreting when they’re looking for reasons to not like you. maybe they should chill tf out ://

ty indykins :3 imma b real i think my sense of humor can also be interpreted as aggression because i am Black 😭

[galatially]

ngl hobie can put me in a mating press until the cows come home and the paint peels if i'm left brainless and numb

❝𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐞❞

hobart “hobie” brown x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: hobie’s sent to pick you up, but fights the power by sleeping with you instead.

MINORS DNI 18+

characters: hobie brown, jessica drew (mentioned)

word count: 2.9k

notes: takes place before across the spider-verse; hobie’s voice is hard to write for i tried my best; hobie is at least 18 they didnt specify in the movie but if hes not then hes aged up

warnings: established relationship (fwbs most likely but idk), reader is a spider of her own universe, hobie has a nickname for you “bug”, no use of y/n, not rly edited mb, make out, light vag fingering, hand/height size difference (tried to make reader as ambiguous as possible), usage of the word “cunt”, praise, dirty talk, objectification (mention of being used), some degradation, sex a bit on the rougher side not too bad, (“quickie” kind of) protected and explicit sex

“Hobie?”

Spider-Punk lulls his head in the direction of the sound of his name. He hums in lazy affirmation as he fiddles with scraps in his hands. 

Jessica sighs, resting her fists on her hips when she shifts her weight. “Will you pick up your partner? She’s late, and she’s not answering her COMMs. See what’s going on.” 

“Prolly kidnapped; something vile.” Hobie responds, his device zaps him as if to punish him for his negative manifestation and he waves his hand to rid the sting. 

“Very funny.” she remarks, but it’s devoid of humor, crossing her arms and turning back to her blueprints. “See to it.”

He pushes off his chair with a huff. “Not her keeper, but just ‘cause you asked nicely.”

“Bug?” he calls through your apartment, having invited himself in with the spare key you keep under the mat. “Bug, it’s Hobes, I’m lettin’ myself in.” he warns loudly enough, shutting the door behind him. There’s no possibility you’re not home, he’s memorized your schedule by now. As he creeps closer to your bedroom, he hears the soft snoring emanating from behind the beads hanging in your doorway. A portière, decorated with a painted white, crescent moon. He’s surprised he didn’t wake you with all the noise he made, but he splits the strings down the middle, ducking in. From the looks of it, you didn’t waste time jumping into bed. Wearing a tank top and panties, cuddling the pillow underneath your cheek, the edge of the covers covering only the tips of your legs. Gingerly, Hobie crawls onto your mattress to lay next to you. His eyes take in your peaceful form, his large hand coming up to pet the hair back from your forehead, stroking down your back rising and falling with your breath. He had half a mind to swat your ass but figured he could get to that later. 

You murmur, and he scoffs. Did you sense him? Your parted lips appear so appealing, a passing fascination goads him to kiss you awake. His lips press against yours so gently. At first you have no response, but as he lingers, you stir. A content and groggy sound, and you tense your lips, chasing him. 

He obliges you, granting you a peck before propping himself up on his elbow. “Up late?” he asks, pinching the thin material of your tanktop between his fingers. 

“Bridge collapse on 51st, had to clean up. Didn’t make it back til…” you mumble, and peek your eye open, the brightness of the sunlight through your room temporarily blinding you. Your vision focuses on Hobie, and an instinctive smile stretches onto your mouth. “seven? Seven AM, I think.”

Your friend feigns a pout, cooing sympathetically, “Poor girl,” His hand ends its trail at the base of your spine, brushing his fingertips on your bare skin, dipping it underneath your ridden up top. Soothingly, he explores you, and your eyes fall closed, sighing in relaxation. “HQ was wonderin’ where you’re at. Sent me off to fetch you.” 

A pause, and your eyes fly open, picking yourself up to reach for your alarm clock twisting it to face you. “Hobie! Why didn’t you tell me?” you yelp. He’d been so sweet on you, you wanted it to last, but it’d lured you into a false sense of security. You stumble standing onto your soft mattress, kicking off the tangled sheets around your ankles to hop off. 

“Cool off, bug,” Hobie nestles further into your bed, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you. Lavender colored panties, not even big enough to cover your supple ass. He moistens his lips, biting down onto his piercing while you reach above you to grab a cardboard box from the top shelf of your closet. His thoughts now occupied by how he could get payback for earlier. “Why don’t we stall a bit?” he suggests, but the intention behind his words goes over your head.

“I can’t, I’m already in trouble with the bureau—“ you start, straining on the tips of your toes to balance the box on the pads of your fingers. You manage to pull it from its place, but you lose stability. Hobie appears behind you, beating you to catching it. 

You gulp, and slowly he sets the container in your hands. Directly behind you, he leans his head over your shoulder. 

“When’s a little trouble scared you off, heh?” His arms rest against another shelf, caging you in. 

His breath tickles your neck and you shy away because fiery heat sears your insides as it travels straight to your core. “C’mon, Hobes, don’t be like that. I’m trying to stay off the radar. Things are tense enough as is.” You duck under his elbow, casting aside the cardboard once you’d plucked your uniform from its spot. 

“Sure, sure,” Hobie nods, but his fake agreement doesn’t fool you. He shoves his hands into his vest pockets as he follows you out. “Listen to this though…” Attentively, you side-eye him, and he knows he’s got you interested. “Let’s ditch and catch up here.”

You narrow your eyes, a playful curl to your lips as you drop your arm holding your suit, and you rest your other fist on your hip. “Do you mean catch up? Or-“ Raising your hands, you form air-quotes. “‘catch up’?” 

Hobie scans your body, a generous look up and down, and he lulls back until his shoulder hits the framing, relaxing there. Jutting his chin, he offers a vague and cheeky response. “You decide.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek, biting back a smile that threatens to display itself and exacerbate Hobie’s arrogant attitude. Having a cocky attitude is an attribute of his you can’t decide if you like. Your suit falls to the ground and you pick up the pace when you approach him. He anticipates your next move, stooping and clutching you when you leap into his arms. You secure your legs around his waist, cupping his cheeks to guide his lips to yours. 

It’s feverish, stolen breaths and parted lips, tilting your heads to deepen it further. The rush of rebellion always ignites a fire in you that Hobie is happy to fan. Neither of you thought of yourselves as exceptional kissers when you worked this fast, luckily you found each other, and your kissing styles fit together like puzzle pieces. Tightening your legs, you heighten yourself, as if to gain an edge by being taller than him. 

Hobie answers this by lumbering over to your bed, collapsing on top of you which you pay no mind to. As if you’re a couple of horny teenagers, he slides his hands underneath your ass, so he can grind into your crotch. Over his jeans, you can’t tell if he’s hard, but the delectable pressure makes you exhale through your nose. His fingers dig into your supple flesh, tasting all he can while his tongue is inside your mouth, chasing yours to explore. 

You had an urge to retract, to moan out his name and ask him to do something foul to you, but he beats you to this as well. Breaking the kiss, he impatiently relays to you, “Been fuckin’ horny for you, d’you know that?” 

The fabric over his zipper catches on your spread folds through your panties and your breath hitches in your throat. “I had a feeling.”

He moves quick, but you don’t mind it. You actually prefer it. The idea he came here knowing he was going to get some is enough to make you dampen. 

“Want me to do som’in about it?” 

“If you’re snappy about it, yes.” You adjust underneath him, searching for that friction, so he obliges you by pinning you with his hips to let you hump him properly. 

His tone conveys his amusement, “In a rush?” 

“Well, you did say I was wanted back at HQ. What are they gonna think if we take too long—? And we show up together?” While you talk, he rolls his abdomen, sweeping his hardening length over your clothed sex, and you shiver. 

He’s swift to derail your verbal thought process, familiar with your ability to overthink things. Your relationship with him is private, but that hasn’t shaken your feelings of inadequacy when you’re dwelling in someplace as daunting as the “spider-society.” Jumping dimensions without sanction or reason is frowned upon— if not an offense— and you and Hobie have a nasty habit of it. “We’re Spider-Men. World ain’t gonna save itself. We’ll tell ‘em we got caught up in som’in.” The word “spider-men” is simply a figure of speech. Contradicting its inherent gender by shifting his weight aside in order to find your sensitive nub, circling it with the pads of his digits. 

His skill with his fingers causes you to instinctively buck your hips. As confident as he was in his answer, you aren’t so sure that’d be acceptable to your superiors. Yet here you are, remaining underneath him. “Yeah, you did. I was ready to go before you pulled me in.” You want this just as much as he does. 

“Don’t act so innocent, you like this.” he calls you out and you try to change the subject of agreeing with him by fitting your hands between you, unbuckling his belt. 

“Hobie.” you croon sweetly, ceding your growing interest in what’s residing in his pants. 

He hooks a digit in your underwear, snapping the elastic against your skin as if to chastise your little show. “I wanted to go down on you first.”

“Next time. Just get inside me.” You undo his button next, and he’s pliant in your hands. Allowing you to shove his pants and boxers down until his dark treasure trail and a glimpse of his pubes are visible. 

“Tell you what,” To assuage you and your impatience, he daintily pinches the corners of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. “let me sleep over tonight.” 

You scoff at his dramatism and the way he stalls just to get a ride out of you. A level of hysterics sets in your tone as you react to him, “Yes! Yes, whatever you want, Hobie, I’d love that.” You shuffle away, reaching for the drawer of your nightstand to collect a condom. Your maneuver spreads your legs, and Hobie pervs on how you glisten. 

“Can't get over how lovely you are,” he muses, two of his curious fingers swiping from your clit down the surface of your sex, gathering the moisture there. Your head tips back, his touch— as fleeting as it was— is so heavenly. You try not to attribute that gift to his guitar-playing… at least, not out loud. “You know, I daydream about this cunt?” 

You sigh out his name, relaxing fully onto the bed while he lubes up his fingers with your essence, rounding your entrance to coax it to loosen. 

“You and your pretty sounds, stuck in my head. D’you know what you do to me, dove?” he emphasizes his sweet nothings with shallow dips into you. 

“Hobie, I’m so glad you’re here,” you confess. He’s not the only one that daydreams about the other. You’ve never shared your bed with anyone that makes you feel like Hobie does. A bit of kissing, a couple of certain touches, and you’re hounding him for his dick. “Do you want to fuck me, baby? Right now? I can’t wait any longer…” Who knows when you’ll have another opportunity like this?

Hobie— arrested in mid-motion to lean into your quivering sex, open and ripe for his taking, for his tasting— must steel himself. You want him now, and giving you head will have to wait ‘til tonight. “I dunno, bug, might be a little tight.” he warns, and thumbs your sensitive bud. You squeak and writhe, an ache blooming within you because of the absence of being filled. 

“I can take it, Hobes- God, please?” you beg, blindly reaching for his pelvis. 

Humored, he toys with you still. “Am I your god?” he teases. 

You huff and pick yourself up, snatching his wrist to shove the condom into his palm. He takes the direction— finally— and rips the wrapper with his teeth. “You are such a jerk.” 

“Pity you need this jerk to get yourself off, eh?” The words bring a grin to your face, and he yanks his pants down fully, rolling the latex onto himself. He catches your eye, witnessing the hunger in your dilated pupils, the anticipation in the way you chew your lower lip. You sit up, enveloping his gloved cock with your hand to lead him over. Obediently, he follows you, amazed at how a motion like that sent a painful throb straight to his dick. Whenever you get exasperated enough to take what you want from him, Hobie can’t help but tease you mercilessly in order to achieve that result. 

Balancing on his knees and his hand next to your cheek, he lets you direct him. His swollen head inclining into you, meeting a brief resistance. 

You reassure him, “It’s okay, I’m okay. Keep going,” You replace your hands, resting them on his nimble hip bones. Sinking in, that delicious stretch draws a moan out. 

“Fuck, yes. Music to my fucking ears.” Hobie captures your mouth in a kiss, swallowing those sounds, taking them for his own as he inches into you. Listening to them strain against the base of your throat as his cursory thrusts deepen. Unable to speak, you can’t admit to him how full you feel as soon as he bottoms out. His cock perfectly sheathed inside you, basking in the moment until you wiggle your hips, signaling for him to pick the pace up. He’s messed with you long enough, and he can’t pretend any longer how thin his self-control is wearing. Pulling all the way out, he slams back into you, the force of it rippling your body in a most pleasurable way. As if electrical currents of delight spark up your spine with each piston. 

Once he adopts a steady rhythm, he breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you after you practically fucked each other’s tongues. “I fucking missed you,” you breathe, gazing up at him with stars in your eyes as he adjusts your legs to fold over. Creating a new angle, your eyebrows twist as the tip of his cock hits a new spot. The web of his thumbs tuck in the backs of your knees, squishing your tits together in between your thighs. Bouncing with each of his thrusts. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful. Could watch you do this all day. Takin’ my cock this good.” Your pussy slurps him up, emitting the most delectable and filthy noises. “So fucking wet,” 

“All for you, Hobie, all for you.”

There’s a certain part of himself that’s revealed whenever he’s around you. How susceptible he is to praise in these certain circumstances. Your loving words make him work harder, fucking you into the mattress, keeping you in that mating press. Unintelligible noises spill from your mouth, eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let him fuck you to his heart’s desire. The continual attention to that spongy spot inside of you makes that coil inside your belly tighten. The angle of the position, and how expertly he rolls his hips, causes tremors in your legs to surface. 

Usually, Hobie’s keen on staying verbal. Maintaining conversation with anything he can think of, but this time he’s different. Allowing himself to reduce to his basest desires. The kind that control getting the hell off, and using your body to do it. By God, are you fucking happy to do it. Unlike a vessel of pure pleasure, you’re beyond satisfied to let him abuse your hole like this until he’s milked clean because it edges you closer to your own release. 

It nears as Hobie rails you faithfully, and you claw at his biceps. Your walls involuntarily clench. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it!” he commends, and you feel the ever-present heat on your cheeks warm further. “You gonna cum for me? All over my cock, yeah?” One of his favorite sensations in the world. How you flood around him until it seeps out of you. 

Sentences can’t form in your head, you can only nod furiously to alert him. 

“Go on, touch yourself for me.” You obey his suggestion, and when you lift your trembling hand, he helps you along. Enveloping yours in his hand, he guides it to his mouth, sucking on two of your digits, tonguing them to wet them. Once lubricated, he sticks them in between the two of you, rubbing your clit with them. You whimper. Every cell in your body screaming at you to release, and a couple circles to your nub and you unravel. 

Those tremors travel, igniting every nerve ending as he slows his roll to ride it out with you. Your orgasm is powerful, tensing up your body, including closing up your holes around Hobie who immediately stutters his hips because of it. How you tighten around him becomes the perfect opportunity. You’re so busy letting your euphoria wash over you, Hobie uses it to his advantage, cumming with you. 

The latex protects you, but you can still feel the temperature change inside of you. How things get more slippery, and your own liquid oozing out of you as he pulls out. Sweaty, and out of breath, he collapses next to you to ease the condom off of his softening length. 

A comfortable silence is broken by his cheeky comment, “Tonight, do you fancy another go?” 

[lovelybucky1]

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