#spider-punk fic

[frotesque]

Hobie x Reader Fluff

It’s just plain old domestic fluff <3 

Hobie Brown x Reader (reader is heavily implied black/fem) 

Establishes several Hobie headcanons and develops reader “character” that I’d like to use in future works :) SFW/No smut (this time), though there is depictions of heavily making out.

You were stood at your kitchen counter when you heard your bedroom window squeak open. The sound was one so familiar to you that you still caught it over the noise of your electric kettle heating. You didn’t even look up from your phone as you reached up to pull a second mug down from the cupboard. Hobie stepped into the room a moment later, mask already tucked away. He leant his guitar against the wall before crossing the room in a couple of strides and wrapping his long arms around your shoulders. He pressed a kiss to your neck, exaggerating the sound of his lips smacking. 

“Alright, my love? How’s your day?” 

You hummed, setting your phone on the counter and turning your head just a little to kiss his cheek. “Hi, baby. My day was fine. Couple meetings.” You shrugged, pulling out a few tea bags and setting them in your mugs. “And your’s?” You asked as the kettle timed out. You poured its steaming contents into them, glancing up at the time on the stove as you did. 

Hobie watched you, arms crossed over his chest. As soon as your eyes met his again, he opened them wide. You tucked yourself into Hobie’s waiting embrace, arms around his waist, settling in with a smile as you gazed up at his face. He was staring back, eyes lidded, his own-half smile crooking his lips. “‘S better now,” he said, leaning down to finally kiss you properly. He drank you in for a moment before pulling away just enough to speak again. “Thanks for the tea, love.” 

“You should give me a better thank you,” you said, shifting your grip so your arms were looped over his shoulders. His own large hands crept up your hips, dipping under your tank top. You shivered at the feel of his cold rings against your heated skin. He chuckled. 

“Yeah? How you want me goin’ about that?” A rhetorical question if you’ve ever heard one. 

Instead of answering, you simply rose up on your toes to flick his lip ring with your tongue playfully. He groaned in mock disgust, making you laugh, before he interrupted the sound by kissing you again. He sucked your lower lip into his mouth, brushing his tongue over it and prompting you to open your mouth to him. 

Hobie liked it when you took charge whenever you were intimate, but it was not for lack of enjoyment in leading himself. His kiss was determined, deep and slow like you had all the time in the world to explore each other’s mouths. You sighed, voice pitched high and breathy in a way he clearly liked, if the way he gave your waist a squeeze was any indication. 

One hand went to the back of your neck where he grabbed at a handful of your fro and pulled, tilting your head up so he could hunch his shoulders further and suck at the soft skin under your ear where your jaw met your neck. His other hand slid down to grab and squeeze the flesh of your ass. 

You hummed in delight at the reverence in his touch, eyes blinking open in pleasure. You noticed that the steeping period for your tea had passed. “Hobie,” you mumbled, lips brushing his heavily pierced ear, “gotta let me go, bug.” 

He didn’t move immediately, but he did bite your neck gently in retaliation for the pet name he pretended to hate. You only laughed at him, taking a step back to force some distance between you lest you get distracted again. 

Hobie went to the fridge to grab the milk while you dug a spoon out of your silverware drawer. “Can’t believe you’ve got me this picky with tea.” You used the spoon to dig the tea bags out of the mugs, knowing that Hobie (and by extension yourself) preferred a pretty exact five-minute steep. The habit of making Hobie’s tea had come about early in your shared living situation, and after almost a year, it was a normal part of your daily routine. Afternoon tea marked the point in the day when you and Hobie were able to relax together before his usual nighttime patrol. 

“Rubbin’ off on you, aren’t I?” Hobie teased, accepting his mug when you held it out to him. He carefully poured a splash of milk into his drink before passing you the carton and going for the sugar, which you’d set out earlier. He began adding an alarming amount to his tea while you went for a heavier pour of milk and no sugar. You danced around each other, easily moving through each other’s space. You’d just put the milk back in the fridge when you heard Hobie’s soft sigh of pleasure at his drink. It made you smile to yourself, knowing that these small gestures were an enormous comfort to him; especially after his time without a home at all. 

“Well, you are known to have occasional bouts of good taste.” You returned to his side, enjoying the warmth of the mug in your hands and blowing on it. Hobie was never quite so patient and always began drinking his tea before it’d cooled properly. 

“I have great taste,” Hobie retorted, indignant even as he smiled in good humor. “Picked you out, yeah?” He nudged your side with a bony elbow, making you chuckle.

“If anything, I’d say I picked you out.” 

Hobie had only been a model for a short time, just long enough to walk in a show with you. You weren’t generally one to fall for co-workers like that - there was no shortage of attractive models - but Hobie had an energy about him that had instantly caught your attention. There was something wild in him, not quite anger, but passion. He had hard opinions and no qualms about sharing them. It might’ve been off-putting if said opinions didn’t stem from a place of immense empathy. Hobie loved people, he wanted them to be safe and housed and cared for. Anything that prevented that was his enemy, and he was a fighter just as much as he was a lover. 

Hobie hummed in agreement. “Aren’t I lucky?” He dug his nose into the space behind your ear, unbothered by your curls tickling his cheeks, and breathed deep. 

The action made you giggle, twitching away from him before turning your head so you could capture his lips with your own again.

[sillysowa]

As a big boob girlie you know I had to take y’all up on this offer!

TITTY LOVER HOBIE HCS!

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

Hobie cannot contain himself around your boobs…like he’s literally in love with them.

Always copping little squeezes when you’re naked around him, coming up behind you and cupping them with his large hands.

You honestly don’t even have to be nude, he will still come up behind you, kiss you on your neck and stay there while reaching his hands up under your shirt just to feel them.

He is all about the no bra’s movement—like constantly telling you how you don’t need one. If you wear them because they make you more comfortable than he can respect it but if you wear them and you don’t like wearing them, Hobie’s gonna be your #1 hype-man about going braless,

“Y’know what babe, I say free the nip. Tits ain’t never hurt anyone.” He quips in the doorway as you get ready, contemplating if your outfit would be better without a bra.

lf they get sore at any point in your cycle, Hobie is more than happy to help ease the pain with a little massage!

Thoroughly enjoys sleeping with his head under your shirt, trapped in between your boobs. He says,

‘It’s a crucial part of a good nights rest!’

If you have small boobs, Hobie loves massaging them. He adores how small they look in his hands and how sexy you look when you’re shirtless under him.

‘You have the prettiest tits i’ve ever seen love, just can’t get enough.’ He’d whisper while kissing all over your chest.

If you have big boobs, he loves seeing the way they bounce when you fuck. His eyes are just entirely transfixed on the way they move,

‘Fuck yeah, love. Love the way your tits move f’me baby.’ He’d groan while cupping your boobs and lightly slapping one.

Hobie never forgets your boobs during foreplay. He always takes his sweet time kissing and sucking them, creating patterns of hickeys in his wake. You will never have sex without Hobie showing love to your boobs, which he says are,

‘the best rack i’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

—

@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara

[artistmarchalius]

Cockney Rhyming Slang Phrases Part 2

In a previous post I went into Cockney rhyming slang history and gave some tips on how to use it.

This is the second post in a series where I’ll give you some commonly used Cockney rhyming slang phrases, phrases that I find funny, as well as some phrases that I think would be useful for Spider-Verse fic writers specifically. Part 1 of this series can be found here.

So let’s get started on Part 2!

C-D

China Plate - Mate

E.g. “How are you, me old China?” Or “I’m meeting me old China at the pub later.”

Cobblers Awls - Balls

E.g. “Ooh! Got him right in the cobblers!”

It can also be used to mean “Nonsense”. E.g. “What a load of cobblers!” is another way of saying “What a load of nonsense!”

Cream Crackered - Knackered

E.g. “Sorry mate, I’m creamed!” Or “I’m cream crackered!”

Custard and Jelly - Telly (Television)

E.g. “Shh! I’m watching the custard.”

Daisy Roots - Boots

E.g. “Hang on, I need to put my daisies on!”

Dicky Bird - Word

E.g. “Not a dicky bird, mate.”

Another example of where you usually use the whole phrase. Also, “word” can also mean “a brief chat”. E.g. “Can I have a dicky bird?”

Dog and Bone - Phone

E.g. “You know what, give me a call on the old dog and bone and we’ll sort it out then.”

Duck and Dive - Skive

E.g. “Let’s duck!” Or “I gotta duck.”

Skive means to avoid work, usually by leaving early, similar to what Americans might call “playing hooky”.

Dustbin Lid - Kid

E.g. “How’s the dustbin lid?”

As mentioned in Part 1, it’s good to keep in mind that there can be multiple Cockney rhyming slang phrases for the same word, as well as multiple Cockney rhyming slang phrases that start with the same word. For more information, see Part 1.

As always, I’m not an expert; a true Cockney would know far more than I do. I just want to share the knowledge that I have. I hope someone will find this helpful, informative, or entertaining at the very least.

I’ve got more Cockney rhyming slang phrases coming, but if there’s any other areas of British slang you’d like me to go into, let me know and I’ll see what I can do!

Happy writing and happy speaking!

My other British slang posts: Cockney Rhyming Slang, Cockney Rhyming Slang Phrases Part 1, British Police Slang, Terms of Endearment, Innit VS In’t - a PSA

[lokorum]

so....................i've read unraveled the other day.................... and then ive re-read it.........and now im in the middle of re-reading it again????

honestly cant promise that im not gonna keep coming back to it until someone would steal my phone and then i'll just log in from the pc lets be real here (¬‿¬ ) but!!! what i wanted to say is that its just such a good fic?? so well written? it has all the right words in just the right order and i can and will argue till late night that it healed part of myself that i had no idea existed. these descriptions of hugs??? gonna stay with me untill the very end  (*_ _)人  

and drawing something is the least i can do to show just how much your work means, @2btheanswertothequestion  (/▿＼ )

"unraveled" became my spiderverse canon since the moment ive finished chapter one and it will stay this way!!! thank you so so much for all the long hours and all the hard work you clearly had put into it!! you're amazing!! ♡

[eyesxxyou]

💿 hobie brown x fem!reader

❝ warnings ❞ just the tip, mention of a dick piercing, p in v sex

You said “just the tip” not thinking that it would do any harm. It was just the tip, all of 1.5 inches of 8 inches of solid cock. Hobie was pleading with you, his hand roaming and groping as you two lie on the couch, high out of your minds. He got horny when he was high and you…you got bold.

‘Just the tip’ was a test to see if Hobie could manage some self-control. Suddenly you were more exposed then you’ve ever been, lying on the couch with your tits out and cunt exposed to him while Hobie stroked himself to the sight. “Jus’ the tip.” He almost seemed to be reminding himself as he adjusted himself so his cock rested on top of your pussy.

He rocked his hips, dragging his length between your wet lips. Every thrust forward sent his cock dragging across your puffy little clit until you were rocking your hips in the opposite direction. Up and down, down and up, until you were both desperately humping each other between panting breaths.

Hobie slapped his fat cock against the flat of your pussy while your hips bucked against him. You were so fucking wet, the splatter of your wet pussy leaving his fingers and dick soaked. You were more than prepared to take just the tip, maybe even more if you wanted but you made it clear so he wouldn't go any further.

As he eased his pulsing cock into your aching cunt and groaned at your soft, wet walls of gummy flesh holding him as you rocked your hips and reminded him, “Just the tip.”

“Jus’ the tip.” He repeated something of a distant murmur, his eyes watching the way just the tip parted your soaked lips and begged always for just a little more. The piercing on the tip did wonders for his sensitivity, each push of his head in and out of your greedy walls making him shudder with pleasure and love and obsession.

You liked just the tip, liked watching Hobie struggle in the battle of keeping his promise and taking what he wants, what he needs. His thumb messily stroked at your clit while his free hand stroked the rest of his cock to the same rhythm. His nimble fingers worked at your pleasure incessantly and only found satisfaction in the way you moaned his name. “Hobie!”

It was almost embarrassing how nice it felt just barely going there. How nice the sound of your pussy letting him go with a little, creamy ‘pop’ sounded every tip he pulled out and how it welcomed him back when he pushed into you.

Just the tip meant him cumming more on your pussy than inside. He was sloppy about it, groaning on top of you like something of a feral animal while his seed covered your pussy. He was still pushing his head into you as he came, got the satisfaction of both worlds, watching his cum drip from place to place as he made a mess of you.

“Now let's go all the way."

[fiepige]

Compilation of EVERY single time they changed Hobie's filter in the digital version:

Left: Theatrical release Right: Digital release

You might have to click on some of them to get a better look at Hobie, sadly I don't have a video editor that allows me to make better edits than these :')

[lotte-s-web]

Hobie who fucks you to his own songs, and sex isn’t all soft and lovely when kick-ass British-hardcore punk music plays in the background.

— SAMO 🎸🥀⁉️

samo babe youre trying to kill me this is the first thing i saw when i got home😭😭 youre so right tho i HAD to write a thing

💿✩ ❝record ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader ✩💿

₊˚⭑ warnings: penetrative sex, teasing, hobie records reader's voice, overstimulation (i think?)

God knows how long it’s been since his record started playing, but all you know is that he’s been wrecking you for more than 3 orgasms. You’re shaking, hands uselessly gripping at the sheets as if it’d tether your mind to your body, as if you could do anything against the unrelenting pace of his hips. Your cheeks are damp with overstimulated tears, your voice raspy from all the noise you’ve been making.

But noise doesn’t matter when his music is so loud, blasting from all angles of the room and drowning out even the loudest of your moans. It drowns out the loud clapping noise your bodies make as his hips meet your ass, over, and over and over again, following the ever-changing rhythm of each of his band’s songs. The combination of the aggressive music blasting in your ears and his length making space within your body making you dizzy with pleasure.

Hobie groans from behind you, his lean frame fucking into you from the back as he keeps his hand on your hips to pull you back against him with each thrust. His other hand is pushing down on your back, forcing you to arch for him, holding you down despite the way you writhe under him and making you take each thrust into you. 

His skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat, making his dark skin glisten in the dim lighting as if he was some god of the night. And with the way he was keeping you on the boundary between pain and pleasure tonight, it certainly felt like he was. 

He’s panting, groaning, and moaning above you, the rough and guttural sounds blending in with his song in a symphony that makes you clamp around him, your lust-addled mind soaking in his pleasure. His hips follow the aggressive beat of the drums, grating and angry guitar riffs pumping his veins with adrenaline and the energy to keep driving into you. His eyes zero on the way your greedy hole swallows in his cock as if it wasn’t enough, as if you hadn’t been complaining just a few minutes ago about it being too much. 

A new song plays, something even faster, even angrier. “Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts above you, stilling his pace to listen to the first few beats of this new song. The sudden stop gives you air to breathe, giving you time to gasp for air and thank whatever higher power there was for the much-needed break. Your face falls into his pillow, your body exhausted.

It’s just as sudden when he starts to move again, his hips pulling back and pushing back in, full force in one swift motion that makes you jolt, making you choke on your breath. The motion is repeated again, and again, and again in another swift rhythm that has you falling apart on his cock. It makes you whine into his pillow, trying to retreat from him in any way you could.

He clicks his tongue at that, disapproving, making his thrusts harder, making you moan louder. He removes his hand from your back to hold your cheeks in a firm grip, pulling your weakened body up flush against his chest. His mouth is right up in your ear as he continues his brutal pace, his fingers digging into the flesh on your hip and leaving purpling marks where they lay as he runs filth into your ear about how good he knows you sound. You can barely hear your own moans but his words ring loud and clear within the foggy state of pleasure he’s got you in.

“Wanna hear ya sing dove,” he groans into your ear, emphasizing each word with a thrust that hits right up against that gummy ridge that makes your eyes roll back and your mouth fall slack. He rests chin resting on the junction of your neck and shoulder, moaning into your skin as he starts to ramble in your ear. “Gonna— F–Fuck— gonna use i’ as yer audition tape, yeah? Mmmph— wanna show the band how fuckin’ pretty ya sound when y’re all fucked ou’ f’me.” 

You keen at the idea, getting his blood pumping hot through his body downwards to where he’s sheathed inside you, his grip on you tightening with every little noise that blends with his song. That’s when it hits him: an idea, a brilliant one. 

The hand on your hip moves away to scramble for something on the nightstand, your body trembling against his as he finds his tape recorder amidst the mess on the small table. He sets the device down underneath you and clicks a button, the cassette starting to roll just as he starts to move again, your whines and cries of pleasure all caught by his tape. You barely notice in your haze, too cockdrunk to even consider any resignations to the idea of you being recorded.

He hears your breath hitch at the idea of being recorded, your voice softly crying out his name in complaint. He chuckles, kisses your cheek then continues pumping up into you, murmuring into your ear, “who knows, hm? Migh’ even get ya on the next track li’ thi’.”

a/n: ik his accent here is shit guys MY BAD IM SORRY aghh its so hard to write it shfbdsh

๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou, @s4mo-is-dead

[gay-dorito-dust]

Will this become a mini series? Probs not.

Butterflies can’t see the colour of their wings series: part 2 part 3

‘Met anyone that’s caught your eye recently?’ Your good friend Miles asked one day out of the blue.

You did in fact found someone that had caught your eye but didn’t think that anything will come of it. So you try not to dwell on the subject for too long. ‘Not that anyone immediately comes to mind, no, why the sudden question?’ You answered his question with a question of your own.

He shrugs, trying to act casual and follow through with the plan, ‘what about Hobie?’ Upon hearing his name you looked to Miles with a raised brow as he continued. ‘He’s a pretty cool guy, I mean he plays the guitar, he’s unapologetically British because who doesn’t like a guy with an accent, even though it can be pretty hard to understand what he’s saying half of the time,’ Miles murmurs the last part under his breath, ‘but that ain’t so important but yeah, what-what about him?’

��Hobie’s defiantly one of the coolest guys about but I don’t think he’d ever go for someone like me Miles,’ you confessed to your friend, smiling sadly as you both stopped walking to face one another. ‘Why not?’ Miles asked, genuinely curious as to why you think that because in his eyes you and Hobie made the most sense in his eyes. You complimented each other nicely and obviously have something going on between you two, which is why he was going through all this in hopes that by the end of it, you and Hobie would be together.

You shrugged ‘why would he, why would Hobie choose me when there’s better options that would better suit him then I could. So I try not to think about the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘could have beens’ in hopes that one day my crush on him will passover as though it were nothing but a fleeting memory because there’s no reality where we end up together.’ You said defeatedly, believing your own words more so then the words of others. You saw Miles’ expression saddened but lifted a hand to reassuringly pat him on the shoulder. ‘It’s okay, it’s just that you can’t ask to have everything in life without repercussions telling you as to why that can’t be.’

With that, you began to walk ahead of Miles as he looked back over his shoulder and down an nearby alleyway where Hobie appeared and leant against the wall as his eyes bore into your back before looking over at Miles; neither of them were quite certain where to go from here as their plan hasn’t necessarily took this possibility into account.

‘What do we do now?’ Miles asked Hobie.

‘There’s only one thing to do,’ Hobie began, ‘prove them wrong.’

[the-kr8tor]

High on the Feeling

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Summary: Hobie goes to the dentist and you leave with a very giggly and sweet Hobie high on anesthesia.

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw blood, cw food mentions, talks of marriage, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

You've practically flipped through every single magazine in the dentist’s waiting room while you wait for Hobie. He's been complaining about the annoying ache in his molar that has hindered him from doing his responsibilities for the past few weeks. And after some convincing on your end (and a lot of smooches and coddling), he finally accepted that he needed a tooth extraction.

Now, you'd think that with his abilities that a regular ol' anesthesia wouldn't even work on him. But judging from the lack of swearing and screaming behind the tooth shaped door, you and Hobie's hypothesis were dead wrong.

You pick at your nails while you wait, and listen to the cheery pop song that's starting to make you more annoyed than the hospital-like smell of the place. The walls are painted stark white with a bunch of Ikea bought shelves perched on it where a bunch of teeth related decor sits and a handful of picture frames filled with stock photos of smiling people. You feel unnerved by the choice in decoration. Couldn't they just put infographics on how to properly brush your teeth like a normal dentist?

As the thought passes by your mind, the tooth shaped door opens and out comes Hobie stumbling over his own feet. Boots stomp loudly on the tiled floors, and you immediately run towards him to catch his flailing body.

Thankfully, you catch him in time, his head falls on your shoulder as his arms fall limp on his sides. His muffled groans reverberate, making you turn towards the rushing dentist assistant with her hands frantically pushing a wheelchair that you surmise was supposed to be Hobie's ride out.

“Is everything okay?” You ask both the nurse and Hobie, who's basically laying his entire weight on you. You feel his drool leaking onto your shirt. Or his shirt for that matter.

“I'm sorry, he just launched himself out of the wheelchair!” She sighs tiredly. “He keeps saying that London needs him. And that he's Spider-Man.”

Your eyes widen for a second before fixing your expression. “...Oh,” you say, laughing nervously. You put your arms under his armpits to hold him better. But it doesn't make it any easier to carry all 6 feet and three inches of Hobie. “How did it go? Is he alright? Except for being a drama queen.” You joke so that the woman forgets what Hobie told her.

Fortunately, she chuckles. “Yeah, the procedure went well. Although, he was a lightweight with the anesthesia. Like he was out out.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows questioningly while you hobble towards the wheelchair to sit him down or your hold on him will fail since he's tethering to the side now. “I thought you might've needed more of it than less.”

“Us too, he's just a bit loopy but he'll be okay after a few hours.” She helps you put Hobie on the chair, he falls unceremoniously on it with a clatter of metal. “I suggest you drive him home.” She winces when Hobie mumbles something incoherent with a giggle right after. He looks like a happy camper.

“Yeah, for sure.” You think he looks adorable with him looking like he's high up in cloud nine. He seems fine except for his droopy eyes and mouth, and all the drool pooling in the corner of his lips. At least he's not in pain anymore. Taking a handkerchief from your jean pocket, you gently dab at the corner of his lips, to which he hums appreciatively. “Thank you, I'll take it from here.”

She smiles as she hands you the push handles of the wheelchair over to you. “Of course—oh, I almost forgot. We kind of promised him ice cream.”

“Coconut!” Hobie suddenly yells, perking up from his seat with wide eyes. The other people waiting in the room jumps from their seats. If something bad happens to him because of the anesthesia, you're going to sue this place to the ground. You place your hand on his shoulder, which he immediately calms down and looks up at you with stars in his eyes.

“Coconut ice cream to be exact.” The nurse gives you an apologetic look.

“Good thing I know where to get some.” You smile down at Hobie, only to find him boyishly smiling up at you.

“You're pretty.” He whispers breathlessly like you've taken the air from his lungs. His hand holds the back of yours, patting it softly. He looks as handsome as ever even with a cotton ball shoved in his mouth.

“Thank you, Hobs, you're pretty too.” You feel like melting on the spot as he smiles at you. “Let's go home first and then I'll get you a whole pint.” Hopefully he'll be sober by then, although you're loving his lovestruck gaze on you.

“Home?” He asks while you push him towards the exit.

“Yeah, we live together, Hobie.” You giggle, nudging the top of his head with your chin. The bells hanging above the door jingles when an attendant opens it for you. The cooling autumn air greets you and Hobie.

“Woah.” He sighs like he couldn't believe your words. “We married?”

You pause right next to the van, heart squeezing in your chest. “Oh, Hobie.” His question is the most adorable thing you've ever heard.

“Oh no,” he utters like he hurt you. Stumbling out of the chair, he turns towards you to rub your arms just like he always does whenever you need comfort.

“Sit down, Hobie, you might fall—” His hands cradling your cheeks stop you from continuing. You see his eyes well up with tears, pretty hazel eyes glimmering under the afternoon sun. “Oh, baby, don't cry.”

“We're not married?” His lips wobbles, “that's bonkers.”

“Do you want us to be—?”

“Yes.” He says before you could finish your sentence. You hold him by his waist, helping him with his balance.

You chuckle with a soft smile, hand reaching up to rub your thumb along his chin as you peck the tip of his nose. “Tell you what, we'll talk about it in the car.”

“Really?” Hobie's eyes light up. You've only seen him like this whenever he gets home early on patrol only to see you waiting for him happily.

“Yes really. We’ll feed our guests coconut ice cream.”

He drops his head back, chuckling deeply. You raise his head back up in fear of him choking on the cotton ball. Once his head is upright on his neck once again, he grins at you. “You know ‘m Spider-Man, right, love?”

Your guffaw echoes around the parking lot, “off you go in the van, Spider-Man.” Guiding him towards the van, you turn the corner to open the passenger door for him.

Hobie takes a big whiff, and you look on with an endeared smile. “I smell pine.”

“Yeah, it's the scent thing we bought at the gas station.” You point at the swinging 2d pine tree in the rearview mirror, other hand placed on the small of his back, making sure that he doesn't fall.

“I don't fancy pine.” He pouts uncharacteristically, making you clamp down your lips to quiet your giddy laughter.

“It was the only thing available. We'll get a new one, okay?” Kissing his shoulder, ready to guide him on the seat, he leans in for a proper one but you move away before he could. He pouts again, brows fully knitted together. “Sorry, but we're in public, Hobs, and you have a bloody cotton in your mouth.” You really want to kiss him, you really do, but he probably can't tell his right from his left right now.

Hobie scrunches his nose, hand reaching up his mouth but you stop him halfway before he could yank it out. “Why?” Swatting your hand away, he playfully fights with you.

You continue to fight with his long arms, you two must've looked like a couple of kids baby fighting in the middle of the parking lot with your hands slapping his own away. “Because, you can't— Hobie! You can't take it off!”

“But I want to snog you.” If it wasn't for his haze filled eyes, you'd think that he's playing with you.

“I promise you can snog me as much as you want later when you're well aware of your surroundings—!” His hands manage to grab hold each of your wrists, braceleting his fingers around them. You fight a giggle, acting like you mean business but the amusement in your eyes says otherwise. “Get in the car please.”

“You promise later?” Hobie clicks his forehead against your own. Eyes fully closed, sighing quietly.

Rubbing his back, you let him calm down from his high for a moment. “Yes, I promise—” you hear soft snores. “Are you asleep?!”

After wrangling Hobie into the passenger seat, making sure that his seatbelt is properly settled, you finally pull out of the parking lot. Once you manage to get back on the road, you glance towards Hobie, who's looking out the window with his face squished on the glass.

“You okay over there?” Patting his leg, you get his attention, and you swear he looked like he just realized you were in the car with him when his entire expression lit up like a billboard in New York. “I wish I had a camera right now.”

“What for?” He places his head on the head rest, cheek smooshed on the leather, eyes sparkling as he looks at you softly.

“To take a picture of you.”

“I want to take a picture of you.” He says softly, “a million pictures of you.”

“Can one of those pictures be with you too?” You grin, trying to focus on the road ahead instead of looking at the adorable sight next to you.

“If you want to.” His eyes flutter close, but he's clearly fighting sleep.

“Well, I want to.” You stop the car when the light turns red, a perfect opportunity to hold his hand. “You can nap if you want. I'll wake you up when we're home.”

“I want to pick flowers for you.” You swear your heart jumps out of your chest. “But only your favourites.”

“And I'll get you coconut ice cream as much as you want.”

His eyes closes to the hum of the engine. “I'll share it with you.”

“I know you will, Hobs.” Kissing the back of his hand, you let him go just as when the light turns green.

Hobie has always been sweet on you, but this time, he's beyond just being sweet. Your teeth feel like it's rotting from how incredibly saccharine he is. And you love every second of it, but you wish that the meds wear off so you could be with the same Hobie who hogs the blanket at night and who wakes you up with his cold feet against your thigh.

—

You cuddle close to Hobie whilst you feed him spoonfuls of coconut ice cream on the sofa. The anesthesia has completely worn off, sobering up to his old self. You've given him his pain meds and you've lit up a scented candle for him to relax more. Crumpet sleeps next to him, face snuggled up against his side, unbothered by everything that's happening around her. Your head finds penchant atop his chest as his palm rests above your stomach after he casually flung your shirt over his hand to feel your warmth.

“How's the pain?” You ask, while he draws patterns over your soft skin.

“Throbbin’, a three right now. Nothin' I can't handle though.” He says while you scoop out another spoonful for him. “I think they took more than one tooth.” He says while he opens his mouth for you to feed him another dollop.

“Do you want me to check?” You tease, pointing at his bottom lip with the spoon, looking up at him with a smirk.

“Maybe later,” he squeezes your nose before letting go with a chuckle. “What else did I say other than tellin' people my secret?”

“They didn't believe you anyway, thanks to the meds.” A drop of ice cream falls from the bowl down to your hand, licking it off, you let the sweet treat melt in your mouth after giving it a taste. He looks at you like you're the dessert. Smiling, you perch both of your legs on his lap, to which he just grins wider at. “You really want to know?”

“Was I that embarrassin’?” Hobie nudges the crown of your head with his nose to tell you that it's his turn to be fed. Arm pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Blackmail worthy,” you joke, you move to take another mouthful of ice cream but he beats you to it by taking your wrist to lead the spoon towards his mouth instead. “Rude.” You giggle and he pinches your side.

“C’mon, tell me.” He wipes away a bit of cream from the corner of your lips with his thumb, which he quickly licks away, flustering you in your seat. He smirks victoriously, eyebrows raising smugly. He knows what he's done.

“Fine,” you laugh, pushing at his chest lightly. “you asked if we were married. And you cried when I said no.”

“That's… the right reaction.” He tilts his head in the same way like he's hiding a surprise for you. The last time he did this was when he got you your favourite pasta from a restaurant across the city.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What do you mean?” Your heart thuds loudly in your chest.

“Even my high self knows about it.” He side glances at you, while you're left pondering what he meant, he takes the bowl of ice cream from your hands. “My turn to feed you, lovie.”

“Hobie,” your eyes shimmers under the cinnamon smelling candle light, you hug his middle with a shaking arm. “What do you mean?”

He makes a face, shrugging while a bright smile spreads across his face. “Nothin', love.”

You laugh giddily, waking up Crumpet from her nap. “Okay then—wait, you're fucking with me aren't you?” Narrowing your eyes, you shut your mouth as he tries to feed you a scoop.

“Open up,” Hobie holds the spoon up for you, winking as you gaze at him softly. You still don't open your mouth, so with a glint in his eyes, he leans close to you, smashing his lips to yours, tasting the coconut on your lips while you laugh against his lips as the kiss turns from a playful one to a gentle, loving kiss.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

Custom banners by @/mushroom-graphics-allotment

[whaliiwatching]

gay people judging you

[februarybluues]

You spin my head around (like a record)

summary: hobie never believed in throwing his money away to useless big corporations. but, when you started working at his favorite record shop, he decided to make a small exception. warnings: slight flirting, terrible british a/n: i love this idea so so much and have many ideas for it so if you want a part 2 let me know!!!

If there was one thing hobie hated most, it was capitalism. Having to spend money on things you didn’t need but were marketed in a way that made you feel like you needed them, pissed him off to no end. Especially when it came to big corporations. He didn’t see the purpose of having to feed these ‘money-hungry pigs’, which would only end up causing harm to everything and everyone that got in their way. The only exception was small businesses. He never gave his money away on anything unless he desperately needed it, but that wasn’t often. Until it came to you.

There was a particular record shop in the middle of the city that he occasionally visited. Mainly because it was the only one near him that actually had his favorite artists. – which were rarely sold due to how ‘underground’ they were. Don’t get me wrong, he liked his fair share of mainstream, popular artists, he just also liked his fair share of small garage punk bands. The kind of small bands you’d find playing at your local pub. But, the point is: that specific record shop was the only one he actually liked. But, that didn’t change his hatred for capitalism. Which meant he wasn’t shy to ‘borrow’ a few cd’s, or vinyls from that shop. Actually, he hadn’t once paid for anything, and he’d never once been caught. That’s just how things were. He’d never planned to feed into society’s corrupt ideations. Never. He would continue to visit that record shop whenever he pleased, but never once considered buying anything. That is, until a new employee started working there.

They were perfect. The living embodiment of utter perfection. Every time Hobie entered the shop he was greeted by a sweet smile from behind the till. Everything that person did drove Hobie crazy. - in the best way imaginable. That person was you. You’d only recently gotten the job, around a few weeks ago. It was simple enough, but it definitely was not your dream job. You only got it because you needed the money, even though the pay was barely enough to get you going for the week, it was something! Despite never once having a proper conversation, Hobie knew he liked you. From your genuine, unrelenting kindness, to your style. He was fond of everything you did. And before he knew it, his occasional visits turned to him visiting whenever he could. Not because he wanted to actually buy anything, but because he wanted to see you. Any chance he got, he would rush straight over to you. It got to a point where he had memorised when you were working and when you weren’t. And now, here he was.

“Are you actually gonna pay this time?” you asked him, familiar with his habit of pocketing cd’s and vinyls and then leaving. You never did anything about it for many reasons. One of which was because you did not get paid enough to deal with it. And also, because he was insanely attractive. He laughed. Not like an actual laugh. But, a small exhale, similar to scoffing. “Maybe I am,” he said, handing you the vinyl. You smiled at him and scanned the record, noticing the familiar album cover. “Oh sex pistols!” you exclaimed, mentally taking note of how his music taste was almost as beautiful as he was. “You’ve got good taste.” you said, before putting the record in a bag. You didn’t notice how he lit up at the sudden compliment; freaking out on the inside, but playing it off well. “You listen to ‘em?” he asked, his heavy accent now very prominent. Your smile never once faltered as you looked back at him. “I love them!” you said. You began to hum the tune to one of their songs, doing a dramatic little dance, which earned a small laugh from him. “You know… It’s surprising that you’re actually buying something for once.” you commented, jokingly but also genuinely. He tilted his head to the side in response. “Oh yeah? How so?”  he leaned against the till, hands in his pockets as he talked with you. “Well, I see you here all the time. - Almost every time I'm working, actually. And - I guess I kinda got used to you wandering around and then leaving. It’s kind of weird how this is the first time I’ve heard your voice.” you laughed, and his lips quirked up in a small, almost unnoticeable smile. “What’s wrong with havin’ a look around?” his voice was low, and he spoke innocently. Despite the both of you knowing he was anything but innocent. “We both know you’ve been having a bit more than a look around.” you said, in reference to the many times you’d seen him ‘borrowing’ a few cd’s. He laughed this time. In truth, he cherished this moment. As it had been the first time he’d heard your voice. You were sweet, funny, and apparently had good music taste. All three of those traits were almost impossible to be found in the people Hobie had met. There was just something about you that was so different from everything else. So unique and-

“That’ll be 24.99” you said, snapping him out of his thoughts. 24.99? He repeated in his head, confused. He could’ve sworn that the price tag said 30? Had you given him a discount? For literally the first time ever, he handed the money to you and paid. He regretted a lot of things, but getting to talk to you was not one of them. You handed him the bag and smiled at him once more. Hobie then realised this would probably be the only time he’d ever interact with you again. In a panic, he spoke up again. “D’ya wanna spend time together after this? We could maybe listen t’the record? See if it was worth th’money?” While the usual confidence in his voice remained, there were hints of hesitation laced under his words. “I’d love to!” you exclaimed, blatantly happy. He smiled, now exposing his teeth. “Lovely.”

“I almost forgot–here’s my number!” you pulled out a pen from your pocket and wrote your phone number on the paper bag that you put his vinyl in; trying to make it as neat and legible as possible. Once you were happy with it, you handed it back to him. “I get off work at 6. Call me then and we can organise something, yeah?” you offered, to which he nodded. “It’s a date.” he said, and winked before turning around and exiting the shop; the jingling of the door suddenly sounded way happier than it usually did. Maybe your new job wasn’t so bad after all.

hey pookie just wanted to let u know my requests are opennn and you wanna request something sooooo badly so why don't you just go over there and send one in thanks love u hope you liked that little fic

[cyberstrm]

spiderpeople + how they confess their love to you

cws: none!

a/n: hey!! reqs r open!!

HOBIE definitely made you a CD of all the songs he thought you'd like or that reminded him of you. you'd never EVER seen him nervous before, but when he was giving it to you he was shaking and couldn't look you in the eyes. you listened to it later that day and knew immediately what he was getting at. you couldn't wait for the next morning, so you appeared in his dimension unannounced and just kissed him. he was a mess, but so very giddy for a good few days after and told anyone who was willing to listen about it.

MIGUEL is not good with feelings, especially love. putting feelings into words is not his thing. it was late at the spider hq, both of you were working late. he kept closing the distance between the two of you, whatever he was doing he somehow found a way to do it close to you. you asked him if everything was okay, and he didn't say anything. instead he leant forward slowly and placed his palm on your cheek, cupping your face. and he kissed you. it was so gentle and loving and you were a blushing mess afterwards. no words were spoken, but both of you somehow knew that you were now in a relationship.

PETER B is the cliche. he appears at your doorstep on a rainy sunday evening with flowers and a letter. you asked him why he decided to do this when the weather was so awful, but he said he just couldn't wait any longer. you let the rainsoaked man in and read the letter, and it was the sweetest thing you'd even seen. you didn't even care when he hugged you and got you wet, or when he kissed you and his hair drenched your face. it was perfect.

[sillysowa]

SEXTAPE

PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER

GENRE: SMUT, STARTS OFF PRETTY CUTE BUT GETS KINKY

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: PERVY HOBIE, VAGINAL FINGERING, BITING, SLIGHT DEGRADATION(?), HOBIE FINGERS YOU WHILE YOU PLAY GUITAR, RECORDING SEX

AUTHORS NOTE: I LOVE THIS SONG AND I FULLY KNOW ITS NOT DIRTY, BUT ITS MY INSPIRATION. (‘TING’ IS JUST SLANG FOR THING!)

SYNOPSIS: HOBIE JUST CANT GET ENOUGH OF HIS GIRL PLAYING HER GUITAR

—

Your amateur fingers danced over your electric guitar, a messier version of Sextape by Deftones ringing out in your empty room. Your amp blinked, your room was freezing, and you found yourself growing more comfortable with the beginning riff. This song was important to you—Hobie having introduced it to you on your first date when he drove you home. It was late, and you were tired, but the song left a mark on you.

The window was open like it always was, awaiting your lover boy. Hobie was at Headquarters for god knows what reason, and he had been gone very long now. You had no way of knowing when he’d be home, busting yourself with your new hobby. It was strange and it was difficult, but when you got it, it sounded beautiful.

Hobie had had an exhausting day, wishing he could be home with you the whole time he was at HQ, but understanding the need for his help. Finally, he was out of there, walking back into London through a portal and sighing in relief. He was standing on the side of your apartment building with his hands in his pockets, walking up the wall and pausing when he heard you cursing,

“Shit, No! I just had it are you kidding?” You grunted, awkwardly adjusting your fingers for the chord you were desperately trying to perfect. Hobie’s ears pricked up, the sound instantly earning his undivided attention as he crouched outside your window, head peeking in just enough to not catch your attention but to give him a good view of you.

To you, you looked a mess. To Hobie, you looked like something straight out of a wet dream—your hair was out of your face, (whether that’s with a bonnet, hair tie, or whatever works for you!) and you were in just your underwear and a tank top. Your guitar was on your lap, and the frustration in your face went straight to his dick. Hobie couldn’t help it, you just looked so ravishing when you were upset.

You were in the middle of the chorus when your boyfriend Hobie makes his arrival through your window, but you don’t jump, you’re used to it by now.

“Hobie, I was beginning to think you’d be gone all ni-“ You start, beginning to take your guitar sling off when Hobies large hands outstretch towards you, palms up,

“Wait-wait-wait! I wanna hear! Don’t wanna miss the show.” He smirks, backing away when you reposition your guitar with a slight eye roll. Hobie just laughs at you as he gets changed,

“It’s really not any good so far, Hobie, and i’ll probably mess up if you’re watching.” You whine, not exactly interested in embarrassing yourself in front of your experienced boyfriend.

“Hey don’t even start with all that, you’re doing great, luv, and I wanna hear the progress.” Hobie quips, a finger pointed towards you as he nears the bed. You’re surprised when Hobie gets real close next to you and then ushers you to scoot forward a bit, then it clicks,

“Hobie-“

“What?” He says, feigning innocence as he invites you to sit with your back to his chest, his legs spread to give you room. You sigh when you realize he won’t let you not do this, positioning yourself,

“You’re such a perv, Hobie.”

“Yeah and you love it.” He smirks, pulling you real close.

You position your fingers on the neck of the guitar, momentarily forgetting what song you were playing. You feel Hobie’s hands on your thighs, and you try to focus. The songs starts. It’s surprisingly steady sounding, and the strings aren’t buzzing like earlier.

“That’s it, good job.” Hobies deep voice rumbles behind you, almost causing you to lose track. You’re playing the song as best as possible, shifting slightly, completely unaware of the effect it was having on Hobie. You feel his fingers creep down to your covered slit, and you pause,

“Hobie?” You question with a slight tilt of your head only for him to grab your chin and face you forward again, hushing you,

“Keep playing.” His voice instantly silences you, and you follow his command, fingers dancing across the strings and continuing the song. You shiver as he starts to rub your clit through your panties, praising you when you do well, giving you tips when you mess up.

A chill trickles down your spine as Hobie moves your underwear to the side, spitting on his fingers before he slowly pushes two into you,

“Ngh~ Hobie! I-I can’t by play like this!” You moans and squirm, only resulting in a toothy grin to take over his features,

“Sure ya can, sweetheart. Just focus f’me.” Hobie reassures you, his voice deep and raspy. He starts to steadily pump his long fingers in and out of your cunt, which is being embarrassingly loud while you play.

“Mmm~ Ha~ Hobie~!” You moan, struggling to keep playing as he speeds up. The feeling of his fingers curling into that soft spot inside you drives you crazy, and you struggle,

“Finish the beautiful song for me love, I know you can.” Hobie whispers in your ear, kissing your neck and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up straight. He fingers you so fast you see stars, and you don’t even realize what you’re saying anymore, moaning anything and everything that you feel. Hobie whispers in your ear the whole time,

“Oh you poor ting can’t even play anymore, feels that good yeah?” He chuckles, picking up speed when he feels your walls clenching around him. Your guitar is long forgotten, Hobie fingering you to your release like it’s a sport to him. When your back arches and you cum, Hobie leaves small bites on your neck and sucks hickeys all over, boner throbbing against your back as he whimpers at the sounds of your pleasure.

“Good girl baby, good girl.” He grunted, pulling his fingers out of your pussy while you whine, then tapping them on your lips, “Clean em up dollface.” He groans, cock hard against you as you suck his fingers into your mouth, swirling your tongue over them. When he pulls them out, he pulls your guitar over your head and web shoots it onto the wall, mounting it. Hobie grabs your neck, his jewelry clanging in the process as he gets up on his knees. He frees his cock and bends you over, your ass up and head down while you grip the sheets, incredibly flustered and shy from his sudden horniness. Suddenly, Hobie pulls your neck back and his phone is right in front of you. He records your expression when he thrusts into you, both of you moaning loudly before Hobie grunts,

“Smile for the camera, luv.”

[artistmarchalius]

Innit VS In’t - a PSA

I’ve seen some confusion in Hobie fics around the word “innit” and I think I’ve figured out why: aside from general confusion about the use of the word, I believe some people are occasionally mixing it up with “in’t”.

So let’s dive into it!

Innit - isn’t it

Can be used at the end of a sentence to make it a question or for emphasis.

E.g. “That’s a load of rubbish, innit?” Or “I’m Spider-Man, innit.” (The latter is an example of emphasis. It’s not grammatically correct but using slang isn’t always about being grammatically correct).

“Innit” can also be used in the middle and at the beginning of sentences (in place of “isn’t it”).

E.g. “Innit lovely out here?” Or “You told me that a Vulture variant was loose in Holborn, but innit true you’ve been tellin��� porkies?”

In’t - contraction of “isn’t”

You can use “in’t” in place of “isn’t”.

E.g. “In’t that the guy who was in here earlier?” Or “That’s a metaphor for capitalism, in’t it?” (You could also use “innit” in the second example).

It can be a bit confusing to a non-English ear to distinguish between “innit” and “in’t”, especially when they’re spoken quickly. For example: if you think you’re hearing someone say something like “Innit that right?” (which would be saying “Isn’t it that right?”, then you’re probably actually hearing them say “In’t that right?”

But wait!

Couldn’t you just use “ain’t” instead of “in’t”?

Sure!

“Ain’t” is a very versatile contraction. It can mean: am not, are not, is not, have not, has not, do not, does not and did not.

E.g. “I ain’t a liar!” Or “He ain’t done his homework.” Or “Ain’t that the truth.” Or “It ain’t right.”

Fun facts:

The earliest records of “ain’t” are from the 1700’s but it was popularised by Dickens’ representation of Cockney dialect.

“In’t” originates from Northern England.

So why use “in’t” instead of “ain’t”?

Personal preference, innit?

And there you have it, a dive into the world of “innit”, “in’t” and “ain’t”!

As always, I’m not an expert, I just wanted to share the knowledge that I do have. There may be other ways to use these words, depending on what part of the country you come from, but this should cover the vast majority of them (if not maybe all of them)! Hopefully someone will find this helpful, informative or entertaining at the very least. I know a lot of this seems basic, but there are a lot of non-native English speakers in the fandom so I wanted to cover all my bases.

Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to cover and I’ll see what I can do! If you’re using “innit” or “in’t” in your writing but aren’t sure if you’re using it right, I’m happy to look over any sentences you’d like me to!

Happy writing!

[katsumiiii]

hobie brown x gn! reader

um hobie definitely would love for his s/o to paint his nails. like I don’t think he would go out of his way to beg for you to do so, but if you offered he would def be like “sure, don’t see why not.” even let’s you pick out wtv color you want, like it doesn’t have to be black, it could be a cutesy yellow or blue (I feel like he’s secure within himself enough to not be one of those men that would fuss about it yk?? like he’s in touch with his feminine and honestly couldn’t give a shit what smb else would have to say abt it).

like let’s say you just got some new polish from the beauty supply store, a cute vibrant blue and a mute sage greenish, and ever since you purchased them you’d been thinking about painting hobie’s nails. you’d come up with this whole plan about how to ask, and even thought about begging a bit if he refused, maybe a cute little pout to guilt him into it, but to your surprise he didn’t even put up a fight ??? just told you to get out whatever color you wanted and start painting.

“hobieeeeee!” you drawled on, crawling on the  mattress below you, wiggling your hips once you reached hobie’s lap. peaking out from behind his phone, he raised an eyebrow in curiosity, allowing you to take his fingers and pry them from his device.

“yeah? wha’ you what?” he quirked his head to the side, eyes trailing the slight lift of your shirt, revealing the dangling belly piercing he gave you about 3 weeks ago.

“I was wonderinggg if you would let me..” you inched closer to his face, pouting your bottom lip.

“get on wit’ it love, don’t got all day.” hobie watched as you inspected his cuticles, growing impatient at your stalling (and partially because he wanted a kiss, but you were too busy ogling at his fingertips to notice).

“can I please paint your nails?” you asked, playfully batting your eyelashes.

“eh? that’s all you wanted?” hobie rolled his eyes, shifting his hips to scooch you closer to his abdomen, “wha’ color are you thinkin’?”

“wait really? all I had to do was ask..?”

“yeah? I don’t care bout none of that stuff, long as you like the color.” he trailed circles on your palm, gaze lingering at your glossy lips, licking his own at the sight.

you squealed in delight, intertwining your fingers with his own, “so I was thinking this cute navy blue I got! I don’t think sage would suit you as well, but I kind of want to match too because that would be so cute!!” you droned, listing out the possibilities.

“mhm.” hobie hummed.

“but maybe…because I have this dark red in my nail cabinet that I think would look good! just screams you.” you continued.

“mhm.” hobie tightened his grip on your hips.

“bee? you listening?” you leaned your head to the side, blinking at his gleaming gaze.

“yeah yeah, jus’ come gimme a kiss.” he mumbled, pinching your chin, dragging your face closer to his.

“did you hear anything I said?”

“yes babe, now please, ‘m dying here.”

[eyesxxyou]

💿 hobie brown x fem!reader

❝ warnings ❞ size kink, fingering, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), light slapping, pussy slapping

We need to realistically talk about how large Hobie is. Yes, he's skinny but he’s also 6’5” and we all know that skinny dudes have the biggest dicks. He’s a grower for sure.

We need to talk about how much you struggle to take him every single time, how he takes his time playing with your pussy and stretching you open so it doesn't hurt. His fingers are long and slender and reach places you couldn't reach on your own. His tongue teases yours, fingers sometimes coming out to stroke your clit before slipping back in to curl against your soft ridge. “Open up f’me, doll. Be good.”

And when he finally gets the monster out, he strokes it between the wet lips of your pussy, slapping it against your soaked cunt, teasing his tip against your entrance until you’re weeping and begging him to put it in.

You always struggle to take him as stated before. The fat head of his cock pushing into your tight cunt until you cry. He keeps going even though you push your hand to his hip to slow him down. God, your pussy is so tight and wet and soft. He can't stop himself from taking what he needs, pushing into you until he manages to fit all of it into your tiny hole.

“I’s okay, you can take i’.” He stuffs his massive length into you until you’re creaming on it, already cumming with just a few thrusts. Your body tries to run but he holds you still, holds you down, makes you take more.

“Nice lil’ pussy.” He murmurs, as he fucks you sideways, your pussy leaving a creamy ring of your cum at the base of his cock. You can barely take it. Your poor pussy is all swollen and puffy from his abuse. His fingers sloppily rubbing your clit until you cum again.

Sometimes he pulls out completely, takes his time to stroke his cock against your aching pussy while your thighs tremble. He thrusts all the way back in with one stroke of his hips and then all the way back out. Your legs shake some more. His hands grip your thighs, rubbing gentle circles into the muscle to help the shaking stop. “Take ya time, lovie.”

He fucks you from the back and grips your jaw. His body towers over you, forces your back to arch, fucks into you like no tomorrow. Hobie makes you see stars, makes you go cross-eyed. You can't formulate words, can't grasp a single coherent thoughts in that dumb little mind of yours. Hobie holds your hands behind your back and your face falls into the sheets. He chuckles, smiling. "Gotcha goin' dumb, don't I? Stay wit' me love." He reaches and lightly slaps your cheek to ground you.

And when he finally cums, he cums so much, so much that it leaks out if you in messy, white globs. He spreads it with the length of his cock, slapping his length against your ruined pussy while you struggle to catch your breath.

"did so well f'me, dove. Took my cock like a fuckin' champ, ya did."

He always rewards you after taking him, knowing how difficult it can be sometimes. He gets down on his knees before you and takes his time cleaning you up with his tongue. Hobie's lips kiss your clit and his tongue laps at your leaking cunt. He eats you until your legs clamp around his head and your hands work to push him away from overstimulated. It's torture of the best kind.

Hobie's so fucking big, it's insane.