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mintyrainwater · 7 months ago

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Recipe ♡ : You and Hobie are both spider people and have known each other for well over three years. You two are inseparable, you being the one to drag Hobie in when he gets too reckless, and him encouraging you to go all out. Unfortunately, your superiors begin to catch onto this, promoting you to distance yourself from your former best friend. Little do they know, there's more to your relationship than meets the eye.

Ingredients ♡ : Blk!fem! reader, smut with a little bit of background. Opposites attract. I headcanon Hobes to be 21+, fight with the wall. Word count: 3k. Making out. Missionary. Desk Sex. Minors please don't interact. Obviously, I can't control what you do, but i'd really appreciate if you don't. ( You will be blocked. )

Notes ♡ : Okay this took me a really long time because I finally realized what I wanted to do. Consider this a pilot piece for my hobiexreader series. This is a simplified version of the original, I had to scrap it cause it was past the word limit. But I might include a snippet of one of my favorite parts which will give more of a backstory!! I hope you enjoy!

It was just another day at Headquarters and you were fulfilling your duties as per usual. Your previous mentor, Jessica Drew had asked you to sort some files for an upcoming meeting and afterwards, you were expecting to go on a rescue mission to another dimension. A pretty slow one considering your circumstances.

You were a model employee in every sense of the word. Enlisted on recommendation, succeeding every mission with flying colors and an irrefutable loyalty to boot. Which is why it was so peculiar when you and Hobie Brown began to hang out.

Now Hobie was a real piece of work, everyone knows that. He had no respect for authority, ( which is ironic considering he's part of an organization ) openly defying orders and making waves. He’d never let anyone or anything stop him from being his true self. You were enthralled to say the least. His brash authenticity provided a stark contrast to your sheltered persona. Of course you were much too refined to admit that. Considering your background, comeuppance and the person that you are - you didn’t allow yourself to engage in reckless indulgence.

But for Hobie, you found yourself making exceptions. His presence fulfilled your exuberance, especially whenever he would hop through your window, ranting about a new adventure he was dying to try. And he’d need his lovely companion by his side.

As you pass familiar spiders, you raise your hand in a wave and flash an amicable smile. You were all set to drop off the sorted files on Jessica’s desk, making a left into the next hallway. As you checked your portal watch , the device buzzed with all sorts of different pop-ups. With a swipe, they disappear and you’re able to see the time. Only twenty minutes until the upcoming meeting. Smiling with glee, you continued on your way, relieved your perfect track record would was still intact. Everything was going smoothly.

That is until a large palm wraps around your waist, pulling you into an undisturbed corner. The files drop to the floor, scattering across the marble flooring, and your hands fly out in an attempt to steady yourself. When they connect with the telltale leather, you figure there’s only one person who would pull a stunt like this.

“ Hobie! “ you recognized the tall stature, trademark piercings and dark brown eyes of your lover, his hands running soothingly up and down your sides. Just as always, his features left your knees feeling weak, inebriated from his beauty. His sunken cheeks accentuated his broad nose and full lips so well. His eyes, spaced perfectly far apart welcome your own, shining with a fondness agreed to only reserve for one another. You slap at his chest playfully, bringing forth a chuckle before cementing your palms across his tattered blue crop top.

“ What are you doing? Someone could've seen. “ Your tone is hushed, as not to echo through the building’s cavernous walls.

Your eyes follow his as they trail over your form, his thumb absentmindedly tracing across your glossy lips. “ You've been ignoring me lately, butterfly. “

Of course, Hobie being ever observant, would pick up on it sooner or later. That nickname was coined from the way you’d swing about during battles. You were always so poised and perfect, fluttering amongst the villains with a sense of grace. Every move took careful consideration - it was if you would shatter otherwise. Hobie, on the other hand, had a much different approach. Seeing him in battle before you met was awe-inspiring, albeit concerning. He was somewhat lackadaisical in his movements and yet every blow was calculated. He showed true experience in his fighting style, despite its aggressive and uncompromising qualities.

“ I haven't been ignoring you, Hobie.” Your hands drift along his chiseled jaw, admiring the lines that decorate his face. He quirks his eyebrows, the adjacent barbells glinting under the fluorescent lighting. “ I've just been busy. You know that. “

“ Oh yeah? “ His head lowers to burrow his face in your neck, inhaling the sugary smell of your lotion. Sweet cream, he thinks. “ Then how come everytime I call, you never answer? “

He’s referring to the time you two would call each other on the phone, whenever your schedules would allow it. No matter what, you’d always make an effort to finish your chores before you’d call, making it one of the few times he’d have your undivided attention. What with your classes, assignments and being Spider-Woman? Safe to say you had your hands full.

That wasn’t the reasoning behind you avoiding him though, if you could call it that. What really happened was Jess and Miguel cornering you after a meeting, confronting your relationship with him. Much like everyone else in HQ, they had caught on to your camaraderie, sensing he might turn you against them. Of course they didn’t phrase it that way.

However, it did make you apprehensive. It’s no secret that this environment didn’t value individuality. Wherever you went it felt like there were eyes watching your every move. Everyone was forced to fit the mold, and if you didn’t you were stamped out. One of the first things Hobie had taught you.

“ Doll? “ His fingers gently tip your head upwards, making your eyes level with his. The dark irises that bore into your own, paired with the soothing circles he’s rubbing into your shoulders, steadily loosen your wavering resolve. “ Talk to me. “

You ponder for a moment, wondering which words would be best. It was unlikely he’d favor the response anyway, so in an effort to placate, you lifted his hand to your face and leaned your cheek into his palm. “ Nothing, it’s just Jess and Miguel again. I’m sorry. I should've said something. “

Hobie let out a sigh, giving his head a shake. Even after how long he’s known you, you were still your contained self. Not like he was complaining. He just didn't want you taken advantage of. The desire to satiate enveloped you in its delicate petals, prompting you to offer the sweetest, most tender parts of yourself - to people who had no business receiving it. Probably why they cornered you, and not him.

“ How long we’ve been together, love? Two, maybe three months? “ His index and pointer finger toy with your bohemian braids, curling the strands of the hair betwixt them. The gold jewelry that adorns them shines brilliantly once they catch the light. “ Why’s it still bother you? “

You almost smack your lips out of exhaustion. You figured he wouldn’t understand. Another thing about Hobie, he very rarely considered the consequences of his actions.

“ I know, Bee. it just makes me nervous, okay? I wanna protect you, and it’s clear our relationship wouldn’t be welcome. “

Deep down, you knew Hobie wouldn’t mind defying orders, but you weren’t going to risk him or you getting kicked out because of your boss's pettiness.

Hobie lets your words marinate before responding, lip tucked between his teeth. That was just like you, putting someone else’s needs over your own. You were the epitome of self-sacrifice, thrusting yourself into battle if only it was meant to ensure someone else’s safety. Don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t that Hobie didn't respect your morals, he just couldn’t relate to them. This society wasn’t built for your type of mindset. It was enough of a struggle sticking up for what’s right, now you have people making your decisions for you. No room for creative expression.

“ You’re too good for this world, y’know that? They don’ deserve ya. “ His face nudges at your cheek, plump lips drifting alongside your neck. His hands begin to caress your sides, squeezing appreciatively at the flesh hidden beneath your suit. You preen under his touch, gaze darting cautiously to the hallway from which he had stolen you from.

“ You say that all the time…” and it was just as endearing as the last.

“ Wouldn’t say it if it weren’t true. “ Those pool-like irises draw you in, reflecting pure sincerity. His next words tug on your heartstrings, knowing he spoke the truth. “ You’re better than this, ⊱❀⊰.“

This wasn't the first time you two have had this conversation. It’s been brought up before, in the privacy of his houseboat and comfort of his sheets. You two would be cuddled up together, a swift breeze from the open window offsetting your shared warmth. His toned arms would circle around you protectively, thumb rubbing mindless patterns into your skin as your cheek lay where his heart beat. You’d fantasize about what it would be like if things were different. Like if the two of you had met in another life, where the harrowing pressure of being spider people was unknown and you were free to live your lives the way you deserved.

“ I really am sorry, Hobie. “ Your freshly manicured nails trace along Hobie’s collarbone, before he grabs ahold of them, kissing the tips of your fingers. “ I guess I just got caught up again. “

“ Oh swee’heart. “ The lines around his eyes crinkle in amusement, a broad smile spreading across his face. “ I’m just teasin'. I could neva' be mad at’cha. “ His lips meet your forehead in a chaste kiss, wrapping his arms around your midsection. Your head rests in between the lapels of his leather jacket, able to hear the thrum of his heart in your ear. He couldn’t exactly blame you, not after witnessing the stress you were experiencing first hand. He knew you too well to expect your next move, even if it wasn’t intentional.

“ Jus’ promise you’ll talk to me next time, okay?” His soft voice tickles your ear, as he drops kisses wherever he can reach. “ I missed you. “ The two of you rock side to side gently, and you melt utterly into his embrace, trusting him completely.

God, wasn’t he just perfect? You had the most understanding boyfriend in the world. You felt awful for him even having to confront you like this, but it just couldn’t be helped. It was your dynamic after all. You both revolved around this game of cat and mouse, waiting to see who would make the first move. Having to sneak around base would do that to you.

“ You’re such a doll." His face fits gently in your palms as you pull him closer, planting a tender kiss on his lips. They slot perfectly against yours, melding together as if this is where they were meant to be. “ But, I’m still worried. “

“ Darlin’, “ he murmurs, lips still flush against yours, “ You don’t haveta' worry ‘bout a thing when I'm with you. “

When Hobie’s tongue runs across your lips, it tells you everything you need to know. Despite the amount of times this has gone down, your heart still races with the promise of what's to come, evident by the way Hobie's hips push up against yours, large palms cupping your ass. That's when the heat of your legs begins to stir, enveloping your body in a prickly warmth. All of a sudden you're up against the wall, his strong hands guiding you towards it. It's feels like second nature as your legs wrap around his slim waist, and you part your lips with a moan as his tongue darts inside, exploring the inside of your mouth. Your tongues dance as you wrap your arms around his neck, heavy pants filling the hallway.

" Got anythin' y'need to do baby? " The low timbre of his voice sends a shudder down your spine, just before his lips overtake yours again, stealing the breath from your lungs.

" Files...on Jess's desk. " He doesn't need you to repeat yourself to understand what you meant, sparing a glance at the discarded papers on the floor.

He's sure you already knew how well he cared for this position, but you were never extended the same sentiment. You were your own person, free to make your own decisions, regardless of what he thought. So he shoots a web collecting the files, before snaking an arm around your waist, pressing you up to his side. His lip ring is heated from warmth as it bump the ridge of your ear, before the teasing drawl of his voice fills it.

" Think y'have some time to spare? " You couldn't care much for Hobie's laughter at your enthusiastic nod, not when he was insinuating what you've been yearning for for days.

Which is how you end up in one of HQ's many storage closets, just a few paces away. It’s surprisingly dim, light flickering periodically above with a table stationed in the middle. You place yourself on top of it, Hobie immediately capturing your lips with his, one hand cupping your chin, while the other is planted firmly on your left side, effectively trapping you against the table.

Now you two are truly able to consume each other in a heated show of passion, free from the prying eyes of the outsiders. All that pent up energy from before releases itself into this room, serving as a breeding ground for your rendezvous. You're ravenous as your lips find his, bringing him as close as physically possible. Your fingers tangle in his hair, caressing the coarse wicks that sprouts from his scalp. Hobie welcomes it with a groan, and you swallow it greedily, taking whatever he has to offer.

Your back falls against the table, arms wrapped around Hobie's broad shoulders as his form engulfs yours. You both pull at each other, ripping off pieces of each other's suit. They're tossed across the room, flying past the stack of files placed safely on the shelfs against the wall. Eventually Hobie's left clad in his pants and boots, while you're working on the bottom half of your suit. You reach down to pull them off, before his hands fly out.

" Wait, wait, love, lemme.." The heat of his breath cascades over you, his broads palms squeezing your plush thighs. As he lowers himself to his knees, his idea becomes clear and you lift your legs to make it easier for him. He takes his time with you, moving tantalizingly slow as he pulls the rest of your suit off, until the entirety of your supple skin is free to the frigid air. Hobie's heart palpitates as he lifts himself off the floor, gazing hungrily at your body in its purest form. You looked absolutely ethereal even in simplicity. More beautiful than anything that has ever occupied this earth, nay the universe.

“ Fuck, love." He sucks in a breath. " You look like heaven. “

A deep fondness fills the expanse of your face, as you press your hands to your chest in appreciation. How did he always know just what to say? Was he aware that his words always brought an insurmountable ache to your heart?

As you beckon him closer, you two find each other once more. Time slows down between you, getting lost in each other's warmth. It allows him to savor the taste of your lips. Sweet, like spun sugar but with a subtle hint of spice. There was always more than meets the eye when it came to you.

His hips start to grind into yours, creating the most delicious friction. You feed into it, rocking your hips against him as the table starts to creak from your ministrations. It was now when the tender ache between your legs began to blossom into something insatiable, and you're unable to ignore it any longer.

" I need you, right now. " You all but whisper. His lips trail down to your neck, wet kisses are placed delicately across your throat. The flutter of his eyelashes tickle your skin, as he continues to worship you.

" You already have me, luscious. " You would've rolled your eyes, if not for his tongue gliding across your neck. It sends a deep shudder down your spine, one that has you grasping at his naked back. " Don't worry. I got what'cha need. " His gruff voice leaves your ear, as he raises himself from your neck, shielding you from the shoddy light. His form fills your peripheral vision, making him all you can focus on as you regain your breath. You never noticed his fingers creeping towards your cunt, too focused on the brown of his eyes. They never leave yours, and you take it as a sign that Hobie would never leave you.

Your mouth falls open in a gasp as his deft fingers push past your opening, delving deep inside your walls. " Goddamn, love. You're soaked." He sounds genuinely breathless, marveling at the slick between them. Your essence slips through his slender digits, as he pumps them in and out, reveling in your sounds. The way moans flew from your chest reminded him of a songbird. You sung so sweetly. " You're so beautiful y'know that? " He watches your face contort in pleasure, captivated as you writhe beneath him. " Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. "

" God, just fuck me already. " you cry out, exasperated. Your fists are clenched in desperation, fighting the urge to dig them in his wrist. You're second-guessing your thoughtful consideration as his fingers graze a sensitive spot, only furthering your ache for him.

" Don't worry, I'm gettin' to tha'. " His chuckle only irritates you, possibly more than his next words. " Can't a man jus' enjoy the view? " Thankfully he's deemed this to be enough torment, slowly withdrawing his fingers from your wet pussy. He pops them into his mouth, making sure you're watching as his tongue swirls around them - absorbing your flavor. If there was more time he would have eaten you out, but alas his lady needed him, and he was more than willing to deliver.

" Open those pretty legs f'me sugar. " With a tap to your knees, your sopping heat is exposed to the air, sticking to your legs. The translucent sheen glistens under the lighting, making Hobie hold back a whistle. He'd knew you'd be embarrassed, but god, were you a sight to behold. With a skilled hand he unbuckles his belt, freeing himself from the confines of his pants. His tip pokes at your entrance, sliding back and forth between your slick. Of course, he can't help but throw one more final jab, throwing your legs over his shoulders.

" Y'sure you're ready f'me baby? "

" Ask me that again, and I walk out. " A moan punches from your throat as his dick pushes all the way inside you, filling you to the brim. He groans, adjusting to how your cunt wraps around him, before starting a steady rhythm.

" Sorry swee' heart, but y'know I gotta tease ya a bit first. " Hobie holds your ankles in his hands, and his hips slap against your pussy, echoing throughout the room. Heavy breaths and gasps pour from your lungs, with each thrust wracks your body. The table legs shake and rub harshly on the floor, and Hobie's feet plant themselves further apart to reach deeper inside of you. You were squealing, hands scrambling for any place to balance yourself.

Hobie grits his teeth, eyes scrunched tight in concentration. His only focus was stretching you out, wanting to satisfy his girl. " You enjoyin' yourself, lovely? " he goads, brows furrowed as he zeroes in on your fucked out expression. Your moans flood his ears, and his deep voice drawls on. " Mm, I bet. Always such a good girl f'me, yeah? "

The questioning tilt in his voice prompts you to answer, but you're afraid you can't offer much but a brainless nod. Especially when the force of his thrusts knock every syllable from your lips before they have the chance to leave. He hits deep and hard, making sure you're fed every inch of his cock. It reaches depths not even his fingers have crossed, filling you up so deep you can barely comprehend.

“ God, you drive me wild y’know that? Can’ get enough of this tight cunt. “ His lips mashed against yours as he continued to babble, officially drunk off your pussy. A throaty groan emits from his throat as you clench around him, biting his bottom lip. All of a sudden, his firm grip releases your legs to grip at your waist, setting a new pace that jolts your body forward.

Your mouth flies open as he delivers another harsh thrust, your hands rushing to grip at his arms. Was he trying to kill you? If so, it was definitely working. His cock battered your pussy, realigning your insides. Moans fly out of your mouth, piercing through the air, adding to the heated atmosphere.

" Fuck beautiful, you're gonna make me cum. " You squeeze at his words, drawing a smirk from his lips. " Yeah, you like that? Want me to fill you up? " Fuck yes. He could do whatever he wanted if only it didn't include stopping. You were on cloud nine, uncaring of anything else that was going on. You didn't even care if you were late for your meeting, with the way his dick caressed your walls.

Eventually, that ache from before coils within your stomach, tightening into a knot. You were so close to your release and when Hobie hits that spot, you simply crumble, back arching against the arctic metal.

“ Oh god, oh god, Hobie! “

“ I know dovey. Let it out, I’m right here. “ His pace doesn't falter as he reaches down to toy with your clit, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves between his index and pointer finger. The coil in your stomach finally snaps, and you cry out, releasing your juices all over Hobie’s cock.

“ Thaat’s it, gorgeous. " his voice barely reaches you as you cream on him, fingernails digging into his arms. Your orgasm spurs on his own, just before thick ropes of cum spill inside your pussy.

As the aftershocks wrack through your body, he soothes you with soft kisses to your neck and collarbone, large palms massaging your flesh. Your chest heaves as you regain your breath, Hobie waiting patiently before he pulls out. In the heat of the moment, you've forgotten that Hobie didn't put on a condom. Which is why it shouldn't surprise you at all when he's leaning down to whisper in your ear, lanky arms wrapping enveloping you in his warmth.

“ Guess I'll be with ya at all times, huh love? “

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mintyrainwater · 11 months ago

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MY WORD🔥🔥

caution mdni 9k words religious subtext, oral, fem reader, college setting, pet names

miffy note this is the sequel to peppermint patty! there will be a third and possibly a .5 part following at a later time c: pls do not spam like my blog! reblogging is always appreciated. pls also consider sending in requests or sponsoring some of my other works via fics for gaza

you could just about die right now; you’re ready to, hoping the dull, faux hardwood tiles would peel apart from the years old glue and open to reveal an endless dark abyss to swallow you up. why? because standing right across from you is hobart brown.

the moment reminds you of a movie. you stand in the library, warm air blasting through the central heating and bringing about a thin layer of sweat across your skin. you should have known better but you only intended to stay for a moment before escaping back to the coolness of outside. the winter months have begun to roll in and your semester has progressed from lounging around with your friends to spending multiple nights up in the late hours, typing away incessantly at your keyboard.

you’ve already gotten one book tucked into your chest and browse the shelves for another. french tipped acrylics grasp around the spine of yet another book and you pull it out to flip through the aged, yellow-stained pages. now that the temperatures have dipped into the thirties, you depend on the layers to maintain your warmth — an oversized cable knit sweater layered over a white shirt, gray leggings on top of tights, pink leg warmers over white socks, and platform uggs. you’ve even got a scarf tied loosely around your neck. walking around campus, you feel just a little chill but it’s bearable. the moment you stepped into the threshold of the library, however, you were quick to remove your trench coat and hang it over your arm.

you’re deep into it too, still flipping the pages and mulling over adding the book to the ever-growing list of resources for your project, when a shadow begins to edge its way into your peripheral. it’s not necessarily a big deal, but you find yourself lifting your eyes anyway. it’s more out of habit than anything else. still, you both freeze in your tracks and stare at each other akin to two little fawns, surprised to see another just like them.

hobie freaking brown.

you haven’t seen him since . . . when? september? october? well now it’s nearing the end of your first semester and you have yet to cross paths which, by the way, is entirely intentional. you bolt every time you see him and hobie knows it. he’s witnessed the display of anxiety with his own two eyes.

“ . . ., hey ☆.” hobie speaks first, maintaining a cautious distance. he clearly intends to walk down your aisle with the way his feet are positioned but he has yet to move, looping his hand around the strap of his bag. he feels just as awkward as you do, although confused because he’s been left in the dark. sure, hobie figured that the dynamic would change but if he knew you’d flat out ignore his existence, he would have denied you the experience entirely.

you suck in a breath and glance down the opposite direction. you’re already formulating a possible escape route but every possible plan your little brain comes up with is more embarrassing than the last. he’s already acknowledged you. you have to speak to him; that’s just proper manners. “h - um . . . wow, hi hobie. we haven’t talked in a minute. how are you?”

the corners of his mouth twitch and pull at the silver lip rings. he sniffs and shifts his weight. this is bullshit and he’d tell you but you’d probably disintegrate on the spot. there’s no point in beating around the bush if you’ve both ran into each other. this must be a sign, divine intervention. “fine,” is what he settles on, short and curt to prevent himself from pushing the sweet, small town girl too far and into a panic.

“that’s good. the semester’s about to end. how are your classes?” gosh, now you’re making small talk. it’s out of your control now. you’ve fallen into your default and there’s not a single thing you can do about it but smile with some form of anguish across your face. you’ve long forgotten about the book in your hands. there’s no chance you can slide it back onto the team wood shelves. it has to come back to your apartment style dorm with you.

hobie’s lip twitch again. this is painful. he assumes it’s the same on both sides but he knows enough about you to know that you’re not going to take the first step, even if you haven’t seen each other in weeks — those three seconds when you’re dashing around the corner in a blur don’t count. “fine. look, i should probably go unless you have something to say to me . . .?”

his question is met with a small shake of your head. you clutch your books tighter to your chest and will your attention not to wander too far, not to drink in his appearance and dwell on the feelings of grief for your friendship. your very first friend, the one who accepted you with open arms. maybe with too open arms. “yeah. i should go to. it was nice seeing you.”

hobie merely hums and turns in his heel. he leaves through the opposite direction, abandoning whatever task he came to fulfill. it remains unchecked in his mental todo list and he disappears from your vision, leaving you standing in the aisle alone. a chill makes its way down your spine. your entire body shudders with something vigorous and yet, you’re not cold.

spotting vivienne in the common space of your dorm is kind of a rare occurrence. it’s not like she’s never in home or refuses to speak to you. she just spends a lot of time behind the privacy of the heavy wooden door of her room with her boyfriend. other times, she’s on the other side of campus, strewn across his bed and empty mindedly staring at his tv screen in an attempt to seem interested in whatever show he’s trying to get her into.

however, this week the two are arguing and your red-headed friend makes it obvious with her questions. vivienne is laid across one end of the couch, twirling a strand between her fingertips, turned pale compared to the previous summer tan in the hotter months. “who’s that guy i saw you with the other day? he’s kinda cute and i think i’m getting annoyed with matthew.”

you don’t bother to look in her direction. it’s a risky thing to do when the named banned from your inner monologue makes a not-so-subtle frown appear on your face. if anything, you take it an as opportunity to lift the book in your hand closer to your face. you’re beginning to regret not reading in your room and shaming the impulsiveness that made you crave a change of environment. “i don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“yes you do!” vivienne is more interested in your bold face lie now that you’ve said it, scooting closer to your body curled up into the arm of the touch. “i know you do because i’ve seen you with him before, a long time ago. if he’s yours, just say that.”

“he’s not mine, viv. i don’t really know him like that, not anymore. we used to be friends and now we aren’t.” you say with a sigh. you attempt to deter her curiosity by lifting the book higher and making a big show out of flipping the page. you should have known, though, that it would be futile. all you’ve done is open up a can of worms as to why you aren’t friends anymore.

“oh my god, girl. you have to tell me what happened.” from the surface of your gorgeous and fresh white pages, four fingers go to bend along the edge and force it downwards until your face is visible. by now, vivienne is all up close and staring at you expectantly. her hair, dyed a very deep shade of red — one that reminds you of red velvet cake — is swaying so close every time she shifts her weight, you swear you can get whiffs of the coconut scented shampoo. fortunately, and possibly unfortunately, for vivienne’s genes, her hair lays bone straight so there’s no stray ends flying up your nose, no matter how thick the density is.

you sigh again, wracking your brain for a possible out. within the past few months of living with her, you’ve gotten to know and occasionally love all her quirks. at times, her stubbornness can be seen through a positive light but now . . . now she’s just bringing up old memories you couldn’t possibly tell her. as if you’d let such lewd descriptions fall from your lips. just the though of the sinful actions make your face hot with embarrassment and instilled guilt, especially when you factored in all the nights you spent with your hand down your cotton panties, rehashing those same thoughts. you think vivienne would laugh if she knew all this. after all, she is free spirited. “we just fell off one day. things got awkward because we have different backgrounds so we don’t really talk anymore. that’s all.”

vivienne’s eyes narrow, brown and larger than usual — probably because of the contacts she sometimes puts in. you can tell she doesn’t believe you when her head nods slowly and she drawls a slow “mhm . . .” it’s questionable why she doesn’t push you further until you’re forced to messily tell her the truth. “well, then it can’t be helped.” she frees you from her curiosity, scooting away to resume lazing about without a care in the world. “you never know though. maybe you’ll reconnect before the semester ends. winter is like the prime time for romance. it’s so cold and everyone always want to cuddle.”

at this, your nose scrunched and you almost snort your disagreement. as if, you think to yourself, as if there’d ever be a single moment in the near or distant future where hobie is romancing you, no matter the season. besides, winter break approaching only meant your return home and return to the church, volunteering to aid in the annual christmas play. “what about you and matt? you’ll probably be back together before you go home.”

“fuck matt. he’s a piece of shit and when he realizes he’s wrong, i’m not taking him back.” her response is followed by a huff of breath out of her nose. whether she’s waiting for you to ask her more, to send her an open invitation to continue your rant, or not, you don’t know.

all you know is her language is distasteful and you make no move to do so, filling the silence with a page flip of your book. what a silly thing to think, especially when you know she’s lying and will always take him back. if this is what relationships are, you sure don’t want one.

there is a problem, a big one. the moment you stir with consciousness, there’s something awfully uncomfortable in the air around you. even under your thick winter comforter, you can feel the sudden . . . cold, the chill that should be unnatural indoors. a shiver runs down your spine before you’re throwing the blanket off your body. “oh my gosh,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around your exposed shoulders.

you feet find solace in the furry slippers resting on the floor and you rise to support your weight on your own. your nose starts running rather quickly and you sniff, all while shuffling across your room to the singular window occupying the wall decorated in little print outs, polaroids, and other various wall decorations. your fingers wrap around the thin cord to draw the blinds upwards.

tick. tick. tick. there’s snow hitting your windowpane.

“oh my gosh!”

it’s almost simultaneous, the knocks against your door. you can only assume it’s your roommate but you get your answer anyway because she walks in, phone in hand and eyes widened in surprise.

“☆, you won’t believe the email they just sent out. the power went out and it’s going to be out until at least tomorrow. we’re gonna have no heat until they fix that shit. it’s the fucking storm. they’re saying we should try and go home early and they’re going to try and make accommodations.”

you don’t have it in you to internally reprimand her vernacular because all your brain capacity has gone into processing her sudden and rapid-fire news. it’s no surprise that there was a winter storm budding a few states over. news has been buzzing with predictions on how much snow will fall, how white the streets will turn when covered in such a thick, cold blanket. “what? when are they going to make accommodations? it’s freezing cold and i’m not staying here all . . .,” your attention falls onto your phone resting on your desk.

you originally assumed it was early morning and the sun is soon to rise over the horizon in all its bright glory but the lack of birds chirping and hidden in the branches draws another reason for concern. you reach over and tap your screen until it illuminates the room and you’re astonished, all over again. it seems today, or rather tonight, is handing you all sorts of misfortunes. “it’s only two in the morning? i’m not sleeping here all night. it’s freezing.”

when your eyes find vivienne again, she’s leaning against your doorway and shaking her head. her thoughts have already whirred through the same shock you’ve experienced. believe it or mot, that temporary bump in the road with her man had already passed and she spent the last few minutes texting him back and forth. it was sheer luck that she was awake enough to catch the email as it was sent and rushed to inform you, likewise worried about the safety of remaining here for a few hours. “i’m mot either. i’m planning on going across camp, probably gonna sleep in matthew’s room tonight.”

this is awfully unfair. not the fact your roommate has already acquired an alternative shelter for the night, but because not only have you ran into someone you hadn’t intended to ever, you have no one to run to in times like these. your extrovert friend, the one who invites you places and out of your comfort zone has herself to think about. you feel too guilty asking for her assistance in pestering her other friends and your acquaintances. “i don’t know what i’m going to do. i don’t really feel comfortable asking anyone i know to spend the night. i mean, the only person i really hung out with like that . . .”

“call him.” vivienne says rather quickly. she almost cuts you off with her urgency, even going as far as walking across your room and pushing your phone into your hand. “just call him, girl. you need somewhere safe to stay tonight and i’m not letting you stay here. worst case scenario, he says no and i take you with me.”

her gesture, while nice and admittedly pushing you in the right direction, makes you shift uncomfortably. call hobie and ask to spend the night after everything that’s happened? or rather, everything that hasn’t happened. “i — i don’t know. i don’t think he’s pick up, much less let me stay over. maybe i’ll just use an extra blanket. it could be manageable.”

“absolutely not. why wouldn’t he answer?” vivienne is forcing your phone closer to you, as if having it in proximity with your chest will somehow magically unlock it and dial that number you’ve been avoiding for an unnamed time. you’ve even considered deleting it, believing you’d never use it ever again.

“because we haven’t spoken in forever. he’s not going to answer. knowing him, he’s going to watch it ring and then text me. or not. i don’t know, he’s unpredictable.” your arm, with the hand boy currently forced to wrap around the thick phone case decorated in vivid swirls of color, wraps around your stomach to bring about a sense of security. a part of you is focused on the chill that settings in your bones and you regret slipping into a pair of shorts to sleep in.

vivienne barely misses a beat. if anything, she only takes half a second to mull over your words and suck in a breath. you can almost hear the thoughts jumbling in her head. “okay . . . okay. then, we’ll stop by and try to convince him in person. if that doesn’t work, then we’ll just have to do plan b.”

it sounds reasonable. it would have been an effective plan had it been under different circumstances. for one, every building requires a keycard to get one, one that’s programmed for that specific building. neither of your key fobs would cause the electronic lock to slide away and allow you access inside. secondly, who’s to say hobie will even be awake? that he’ll come to the door and open it? that he’ll push aside whatever internal turmoil and allow you to stay the night, especially after the heat of your last real interaction.

you purse your lips, preparing to share all your points with her but vivienne doesn’t want to hear it, and rightfully so. both of your health is at risk here and it’s better to try than throw all consideration out the window. there’s already a ton of reasonable explanations that oppose her position but you don’t really have a chance to communicate that. vivi has already made her way to her closet and pulled out a bag, large enough to hold your necessities had you sleep elsewhere. you’re too non confrontational to say otherwise and sigh.

this night is full of surprises, it seems. it’s like the universe curated this entire situation and left no space for any mishaps against her original design. not only was there someone who just happened to be walking out of the building you were headed into — where he’s going in this weather, you have no idea — but hobie was indeed awake and did in fact open the door.

it’s probable he’s already eyed you through the peephole because the wooden door is pulled at its hinges and he wordlessly leans against the doorway. hobie is dressed for bed, despite posing lively, arms crossed on his chest and an eyebrow raised in peaked interest. he’s waiting on you to say something, you know this, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

he looks so comfortable, standing there in plush jack skellington pajamas pants and a loose fitted shirt. there’s a logo blown up across the front. you can only assume it’s a band you don’t recognize. he’s not dressed up, but by a long shot. there’s even a few piercings missing and the usual jeweled accessories you see him with have been removed and put back in their rightful spot. still, you’re speechless and clutching the straps of your tote bag, securely looped around your shoulder.

it’s not the way he looks but him as a concept, an essence. it’s what he stands and the fear that you’ve been fighting to continually ignore. it’s the religious guilt for such a heavy sin you’ve never imagined you’d commit. he is tempting, a hologram of lucifer himself, a craving a lust that you cannot afford to get involved with. it will ruin your purity. or rather, your sanity.

you shouldn’t be here.

“what do we have here?” hobie’s voice acts like a harsh wind in the fog of your brain, pushing it all to the back of your mind and forcing you to refocus to the situation, at hand. “couple of strays, huh?” he’s smiling at the both of you but you know he’s talking to you. he’s looking at you, staring right into your soul to draw out the reason for your sudden appearance. “hi vivienne. ‘s nice to see you again.”

“we’ve met before?” she speaks with such ease to him, you’re jealous. she’s unaffected, obviously. it’s a wonder if she can even feel the growing tension the longer you stand here and stare at him.

“mm, once or twice,” his lips upturn in a soft smile, accompanied by the crown of his head dipping towards his shoulder, left and right. “i don't expect you to remember me. it was only in passing.”

it gets quiet all over again and you know it’s because everyone is waiting. you’re the one who needs to ask because you’re the one who needs to stay. it’s so easy to ask and yet, so hard at the same time. so difficult to look hobie in the eyes and say can i sleep here tonight?

and yet, you do rather hesitantly. “um, i know that we are friends right now but i . . . our building has no heat and it’s really cold and it’s going to start snowing. i didn’t want to ask you but vivi said — anyway that’s not important. i just can’t stay there because it’s freezing and i’m not going home for a few more days. plus, they sent out an email saying that we shouldn’t sleep there so . . . i mean, you can totally say no. i’ll just follow vivi to her —”

“jesus fucking christ,” hobie cuts off your rant with. click of his tongue. it’s unclear whether his tone is annoyed because he speaks so slowly, shifting his weight until he’s standing and supporting himself fully. “you could have texted me all’at.”

you think, just for a moment, he’s going to step inside and slam the door in your face when he retreats behind the invisible boundary of his door. but no, he’s simply making room for you, motioning for you to walk through the door and entire his space.

“i got her. have a good night, vivienne.”

you think it’s more shocking being behind the door and in hobie’s threshold than it was trying to ask him to welcome you in. you only take a few steps until you’re standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. it’s exactly as you remembered, posters decorating the wall until only slivers of plaster are visible between the margins. there’s a tapestry hung up over the top of his bed. that’s new, along with the large mirror leaning against his closet door.

it’s cluttered, full of antique records and hobie’s personal artwork. he hangs his belts up on hooked command strips, studded and catching the purple lights from the led. it smells like bergamot, mist scented with essential oils spewing out the humidifiers on hobie’s desk. his large monitored pc is on and playing chainsaw man at such a soft volume, you almost miss it.

“you can have the bed. i’ll make something work.” he takes a seat at his desk without sparing you a glance. much like the other night, your view of him is obscured. all you can really see is his fingers working together on what you perceive to be him crocheting, something that could have been surprising if you didn’t know he’s a jack of all trades.

you look over at his bed, blankets messily wrinkled and tossed aside. unlike your own, it lacks an excess of decoration pillows and stuffed animals. that’s not the part that seems daunting, though. it’s his bed in his room. “thank you, hobie. i really appreciate it.”

you’ve already hung your bed over the blocky stalk forming the makeshift headboard when he hums a response. hobie’s bed is lifted much higher than yours, obviously because he towers over you. it makes sense that his bed needs to offset the the affects of his height but for you, it’s an inconvenience. you don’t remember it being this tall before your fallout. you tilt your head and assess your possible solutions. a chair could be helpful but he’s sitting on it. there doesn’t seem to be a ladder in the room, probably because he doesn’t need it. “do you mind helping me . . . one more time? i won’t speak to you anymore, after that.”

hobie rolls back his shoulders, pulling at the muscles in his neck until they pop under the stretch. there’s a sigh that falls from his lips before he turns around and stands. “yeah, sure. can’t get on the bed?” he isn’t expecting an answer though because the moment you’re in his eyesight, staring at the navy blue duvet and clutching the light fabric between your fingers, it’s pretty clear what the problem is.

the distance is closed between both your bodies in a short span of a few seconds. it’s after that time where his hands circle around your waist with a firm grip. any other girl wouldn’t feel such a warm heat creeping up the back of their neck. you’re the only one on the planet probably, with all your inexperience, that oddly feels shy when he lifts you into the air and onto the bed with so much as a grunt.

you settle and shift until you’ve almost scurried into the back corner to evade any possible tension that could arise from the proximity. when you’re glancing back over your shoulder with your lips pulled into a strained line, hobie has his head cocked to the side and a gaze that lingers on yours.

he could question you now, he’s sure. he could nip this avoidance thing in the bud and get it over with. this could all be over today but . . . there’s just something in the way. it’s not like he isn’t confrontational or would rather protect your feelings but he can only imagine how this must feel for you. knowing that your friendship cannot go back to the way it was before after blurring the lines. a large part of him regrets ignoring his mental clarity and decided to go through with it anyway. he knew it would end up like this, sort of. you would lose all grasp you have on reality as you know it and send yourself spiraling into uncertainty. “ . . . y’know i’m not gonna bite you or something, right? you just need somewhere to sleep so you’re here. that’s it.”

as usual, hobie is the far more rational one in this situation. his demeanor reminds you of something lackluster, brushing off the situation at hand as if it’s nothing, as if what happened didn’t and he hadn’t had his fingers deep in your cunt a few months prior. “no i know. it’s just . . . with our history . . .”

his shoulders rise and drop in a shrug. the muscles on his shoulders, broad and somewhat stocky, tense and pull around his neck. the skin wrinkles before it settles back in its originally position. “clearly you don’t want to talk about it so we aren’t going to talk about it.”

similarly to your last visit, hobie takes a seat in his desk chair. he replaced the sturdy wooden one with his own and turns the seat until it’s facing your direction. hobie’s legs spread wide and comfortably; he slouches, rounding his back and slouching further down in the chair. he’s only eyeing you for just a moment before proceeding to turn his attention back to his show.

you mull his words over in his head, tossing them around your brain and deciding how they taste in your mouth as it all gets processed. the simple way to end things would be to nod and lay down but there’s an upset in your heart, a disturbance that makes you stomach turn with nausea. “well, what is there to talk about? we . . . did what we did. that’s all there is to it, right?”

his interest is suddenly peaked away, curiosity reaching an all time high while he swivels his chair around in your direction again. it’s astonishing that you, so shy and so quiet, had stepped up to plate and given him the opening he needed. hobie, in all honesty, has been waiting for this. he’s been stewing on his emotions and thinking over what he really wanted out of this for weeks. he missed you, the girl he rescued from having such a horrid experience at a party. “yeah, that would be it if you didn’t scatter like a fuckin’ bug under an overturned rock every time you see me.”

“hobie,” you can’t help but chastise him, falling back into your old habits. you’re even curled up in his bed and have nestled beneath the sheets, now warming from your trapped body heat.

“i’d apologize but i’m not really sorry. you avoided me for weeks. you’re deadass lucky that i let you stay here tonight because technically, we aren’t cool anymore.” he’s gotten his arms crossed over his chest now, a brow raised to challenge you to press his concept of your less-than-friendship. “i’m always gonna look out for you, bug, but i’m feeling kind of betrayed right now.”

you tuck your bottom lip in between the space of your teeth and knaw on the brown skin, pulling at the dead and dry spots that lift with any contact of your tongue. an apology flows out of you quickly but you mean it, despite the predispositioned guilt you get at the drop of a hat. “i’m sorry, hobie. it wasn’t my intention. i just didn’t know what to do. i still don’t know what to do. i’ve never done — that — before and you were such a good friend. it scared me.” you can’t help but lock in your attention on a little red string, dangling off the side of hobie’s pillowcase.

you don’t see the way he tilts his head and prolongs his gaze. it’s hard to tell what you’re thinking, at times. you’re not everyone else, and certainly not in a quirky way. to hobie, you’re far more delicate, far more likely to apologize for any and everything. you’re not well adapted, he thinks. the world could swallow you up hole at any given point and he can’t help but feel pity. or is it empathy? “i know. it is partially my fault. i should have stuck to what i said. it’s normal for a dynamic to change when you fuck someone. i can’t expect you to know that so yeah, i forgive you. we’re fine.”

still, there’s some deep settled guilt inside you, locked away and unable to be opened. weeks worth of unresolved questions and answers left up tn your interpretation. it makes you frown so hard, the lines could be etched into your otherwise smooth skin. “no, it’s not you. i’m just, i dunno? different, i guess. i’m not normal but i wish i was because then this wouldn’t be such a big thing. no one else cares like i do.”

“but that’s okay. you shouldn’t feel guilty because you feel differently than anyone else. it’s fine, ☆. it’s okay. it was a mutual decision. it just won’t be a decision we make again.” his shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. it could seem dismissive is if was anyone but hobie, the one person who would do all he could to ease your worries. “i know you. i know who you are and how you think and what you’re like. it’s okay, really. we’re cool, yeah? just go to sleep and relax. ‘m not mad, really.”

you sniff and curl up into the corner of the bed. you tug the soft sheets up to your chin and tuck it under. the fabric brushes across your nerves in a way that’s soothing, comforting like a warm hug. you look at hobie, really look at him. you look at him like he’s altering your world view, pulling away layers and layers of complex ideas, thoughts, and opinions. his brain isn’t like yours. it’s filled with never ending patience and coolness, sewn together with the raw emotions of life’s worst moments. he’s forgiven you, without a second thought, for running away and ignoring him for weeks. are you friends again?

“okay,” you mumble and wiggle around until the mattress contorts to the shape of your form. you lick your lips and continue to stare at him like he’s altered your entire philosophy. it’s strange that the guilt is still present, although oddly enough its strange how it’s not as potent. it doesn’t feel as debilitating; you don’t feel like you’re suffocating under the harsh scrutiny of your lord and savior. instead, and only for a second, you consider the possibility that you’re staring at the most gracious in the flesh. the thought makes you scoff and shake your head at yourself, briefly alarmed that you’d even consider such a thing. “goodnight then, hobes.”

you don’t know what time it is when your eyes flutter open and peer into the darkness. you don’t remember falling asleep. in fact, the last thing you do remember is rolling over and staring at the wall, pacing your breathing until it followed a slow regime to lull you into unconscious. you don’t remember feeling tired and drifting off into sleep. the one thing you do remember, however, is hobie waking you up to ask if he could sleep next to you.

as usual, he was entirely respectful about it and left a pillow in between your bodies, working as the barrier to protect everyone’s personal space. you don’t fault him too much, anyway. the floors are too hard to willingly spend the rest of the night on comfortably, especially in your own room.

you head lulls to the side until you’re face to face with what you think is hobie. your eyes are slow to adjust to the lack of lighting but his breath is audible, soft and fanning over the pillow barrier between you. with the more time the passes, the clearer his distance facial

features become, although still muddied by darkness. your brain is able to connect the dots and visualize his peaceful expression in the gaps the darkness provides.

he looks so . . . sweet. so pretty and even if no one can hear your thoughts, you’re still embarrassed to think it. he’s the prince of darkness, inviting you to brush gentle fingertips across his cheek. it’s not something you get a chance to think about, almost in a trance with hazy eyes. it makes him stir, eyeballs swirling beneath closed lids. your touch breaks him from his sleep, placidly. one moment, his chest rise and falls with each inhale and exhale. the next, he’s peering back at you with half closed lids and registering the surroundings he’s found himself in. “hm?”

it’s as if his voice, a soft hum, brings you out of your trance as if he’s snapped his fingers in front of your face. you yank your hand back with intent regret and humiliation. he caught you. “oh, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you.”

“mm,” his voice comes out gravely and still obviously under the influence of sleep. the back of his hand brushes against his eyes, knuckles digging into the corner. “did you poke me or somethin’?”

you don’t respond to his question. instead, you curl your lips into themselves as if leaving it hanging in the air would stall enough for him to forget. lucky enough, his ebbing exhaustion did half of the work for you. hobie doesn’t ask again, nor does he press for me. he’s too busy trying to understand the situation as a yawn escapes his lips.

his attention eventually settles on you once more. he doesn’t think you realize how close you are, leaning over the boundary to get a clear view of his face and a clear feel, too. there’s something in hobie that wants him to tease and poke and prod at you. he refrains though, only because it’s far too late in the night to become that active. it’s too quiet to start pestering you; the moment is too personal.

you both spend a minute with silent eye contact, prolonged and oddly intimate. it’s as if you have a conversation without even speaking a word, looking into the soul of the other. it renders you speechless. not a single word comes to mind when you’re laying close enough to see what seems to be an outline of an eyelash clinging onto his cheek.

“this isn’t — we can’t do this.” hobie sighs under his breath with a shake of his head. he rolls onto his back. his palm comes to weigh heavy on his head, tugging downward.

even you know what the problem is, unable to feign innocents and ask what he means. there’s tension; it’s palpable. of course it is when you’re so close to each other in such a small space. this setup would have been better had hobie slept on the floor but his aching bones would plead victim in the following morning.

you don’t know what to do, though. a piece of you wants you to throw whatever inhibitions you hold out the window. it’s become a pattern now. once the moon rises and you become in close proximity with your personal ultimate sin, everything you know becomes useless. your beliefs are casted into the back of your mind and you become ready to do whatever he asks. it’s not like the last time had no effect on you whatsoever. if anything, it opened your eyes to a world previously unknown.

you didn’t know fingers could feel that good before, much less it still worked if you did it yourself. nonetheless, it didn’t compare to hobie’s masterful experience. it’s been something you’ve often reminisced on often, so much so that you’ve considered praying for it again. you know better but you can’t help yourself, losing what will you had.

“why not? we talked about it so it’s okay, now.” you know you’re lying through your teeth when you say it, yet you’re persistent. you’re already laser focused on the possibility of just a little excitement in your otherwise dull, rule following life. another night of hobie’s fingers down your pants and holding you on the tip of your toes.

he shakes his head again, just as insistent not to do this as you are to do this. “y’know that’s not how this works. we can’t. you can’t. we know how this will end. you’ll get shy and ignore me again. i don’t think we should head down that path.”

your expression is concealed by the veil of darkness but the bed still dips when you sit up and redistribute your weight. you sit mermaid style, knees bent and supporting your new position with a hand pressed against the rather soft surface. this is a new side of you that not even you could have prepared yourself for. it’s a desperate side, a needy side that clicked into place so suddenly once put in such an ideal situation. “i won’t. we’ve already done it once and now i know what it’s like so it’s fine. technically, i’m way more experienced.”

it’s not that hobie doesn’t want to. he’d be happy to, excited to even. however, just like the last time, it’s him who has to be the one with restraint. it’s him with the power and charm to bend you as he pleases but hobie’s had enough experience to know that in the end, it’s possible that neither of you will be speaking shortly after this. does he really want to ruin a potential friendship right after reconnecting? “this is ridiculous. you said the same thing before. you said it would be fine and it wasn’t fine. i don’t want to do all that again.”

“i won’t. i promise i won’t. we don’t even have to do . . . the real thing. think of it as a teaching opportunity. would you rather i do it with someone i know has my best interests at heart or literally anyone else.” the words are leaving your lips before you can even think about it. they even taste absurd on your tongue, dripping in a viscous nectar, sweet and honey-like; it’s a precious rarity bestowed upon earth from the heavens.

“you’re going to drive me crazy.” hobie drawls lowly. there’s a moment where the possibility hangs high in the air — will he or will he not? his hand finds your arm and brushes the tips of his fingers along your skin. he can feel the goosebumps that prickle in his wake and it’s just not, if not more enticing. the right decision is to deny you; it’s obvious. yet, he just can’t. he can’t do it.

you, in all your needy innocence and purity, seated at the tips of his fingers and hanging on to every last word. you put too much trust in him. he knows you have this image of him you’ve conjured up. sure, you can trust him to protect you with his life and keep you somewhat sheltered to the bad things in life but in the end, hobie is hobie. he’s a man with a deep dark fantasy of ruining the perfect girl, turning her away from her views and forcing her to become drunk in him. when you’re sitting here tempting him with that sweet voice of yours, it all seems easier for his moral compass to become more and more misaligned.

“fuck it, whatever. come here.” regardless of his debilitating ethics, his guiding hand that comes to cup your cheek and draw you nearer is just as gentle as you remember. it’s a touch that you’ve worked hard to bring back to the surface during those particularly lonely nights; you don’t even realize just how quickly you’re leaning into it and becoming passive in his presence.

half your body is over his, a hand pressed into his chest. it’s a little awkward, the way you’re dangling off his side but all your focus is on the rhythmic dance your lips do together. it doesn’t last long anyway because hobie does all the adjusting for you, rolling onto his side and forcing you on yours. his thumb caressing your cheek, drawing small circles and gliding down the expanse of your face until he reaches his goal destination, holding your chin in his grasp.

he’s still setting the pace when his other hand hooks beneath the bend of your knee and pulls it over his waist. the fuzz of his pants pills the fabric of your leggings but it acts like a magnetic force that inclines you to get even closer. “what am i to do with you?” his words feel hot against your skin, melting his question into your nerves and leaving a permanent sensitivity to his touch.

your novicity is glaringly obvious when you’re already withering at the feeling of his lips against your neck, grazing down and across, covering as much of the open space as he could. his kisses are oddly sweet; they’re wet, leaving behind a thin gleaming layer of spit, but lacking any graze of his teeth. he’s still lapping at your skin when his hands have discarded their precious place and found a new solace, burning hot against your bare skin under your shirt. “you want me to this, you want me to do that. can’t even handle the consequences of your actions.”

your lips begins to tremble with such fervor, you’re forced to tuck it between your teeth. you don’t remember being this humiliated last time, or maybe you were. it’s hard to tell because your thoughts are quick to become hazy when his fingers find the fabric of your bra.

hobie, for one, wasn’t expecting it. the flash of confusion across his face goes unnoticed when he’s settled in the crook of your neck and he doesn’t spend too much time dwelling on it, either, in fear it’ll break the moment. knowing you, you were probably too “good” to take it off, as if keeping it on was a sign of respect. or perhaps, it just seemed like the right thing to do in the presence of a man.

“that’s not true,” you say with only the slightest trevor in your voice. you can feel the clasp to your bra snapping apart. it hangs loose at your arms now and allows enough space for hobie to resume his conquest, slipping his hands underneath.

he chuckles when you gasp, so airy, right next to his ear. he pulls himself out the corner of your neck to look at you, to memorize each tweak of your lips and your eyes open wide and needy. he’s merely grabbed at your breasts, catching your hardened nipples between the webs of his fingers. “no? but you’re lyin’, bug. and you know what, lying is bad.” his chuckle turns into a grin, one that seems especially wicked when he’s rolling them between his fingers.

your open mouthed sigh gets lost behind your shirt tugged over your head with hobie’s assistance. “i’m not lying,” you insist but the guilt of your fib eats you away, nonetheless. you’re still pouting when you’ve pulled your arms out of your bra straps and leaving it to be discarded somewhere in the bed.

“mhm,” he hums, now eyeing your tits on display for him and begging to be sucked. it’s the only natural that he does as his urges want him to, cupping the bottom and flattening his tongue over your areola. by now, he’s rolled you onto your back and flicking his thumb over the other that’s been left otherwise untouched.

you cradle his hand between your hands, dragging your fingers along the coarse locs and into his scalp. you’re barely aware of what you’re doing, caught up in your nerves tingling beneath your skin. the sense is heightened when his teeth clamp down on the hardened bud and pulls. the pain is immediate and your back arches in response. however, the pleasure that follows is unexpected and sits just below the surface, piquing your curiosity and wanting him to do it again.

“poor thing. i really don’t know what to do with you,” hobie kisses your cleavage. he eyes you from his position below your head while his hands continue to explore your body, finding the soft flesh of your hips and massaging them. “everything’s too much for you. you’re not ready for the real thing. you can’t handle a cock yet, even if you’re begging for it.”

his demeanor is slow to change. you could have sworn hobie spent the last few minutes doting on you. there wasn’t a moment you considered his words had a harsher inclination. perhaps it had but you were too past relishing in the feeling of his attention. it was like watching someone transform into someone else, metamorphosis into a darker version of himself

you can’t help but acknowledge the shame that begins to flood over you at his words. they make you feel small, as if you’re not in control of your own body. you were bound to respond like this; it’s just your destiny. you will always gravitate towards hobie like a moth to a flame.

“stop it. don’t say things like that.” it’s not much to say but it’s all you can manage, cheeks rapidly heating up with an intense heat. your hands ever-so-sweet fall from the entanglement in his scalp and take their designated space on his shoulders.

“don’t say things like that?” hobie speaks with a lift in his voice, replicating the pitch of voice you decided to use with hands on your hips to roll you onto your back. you miss the way his eyebrow raises in the dark and the tug of his lips turn upwards. “what do you mean don’t say things like that? am i not supposed to say the word ‘cock’ when i suck on your sweet pussy?”

you crane your neck higher and higher the lower hobie slides his way down your body. you unintentionally tighten, drawing your muscles together. your breath catches in your throat when your eyes meet each other. there’s almost a split second where the words are just ready to spill out of your lips. it would be yet another chastise, another moment where you mention your disdain for such vocabulary. you never get to it because hobie beats you to it. he interrupts you with a sly grin and a tongue sliding across the fabric of your pants. the material deepens into a darker shade of the light blue when his saliva sinks within and catches your clit.

it’s over your clothes and yet it feels so good, unlike anything before. not like before, when hobie had you strewn across your desk. although, this new adaptation is a bit more dull. his hands maintain his strong hold, although there isn’t much current need. there’s no attempt to pull away from you. you’re not at all wiggling about but instead, opening your legs wider to entice him a little more.

you gain a small squeeze from your actions and a chuckle that follows shortly after. hobie’s wordless response is enough, at least for him. he attaches his lips even more, circling around your clothed clit and sucking it through your clothes. his tastebuds are full of boring cotton but his sense of smell is delighted, inhaling you in your purest form with the intention of imprinting this memory in his head.

you whine and mewl and keen, voicing your somewhat opposition to your current position. it felt good, really, having his nose brush against your jeweled pearl biden behind the hilt of a hood. the most drunken part of you, intoxicated off the high of lust, nearly convinces you to lift a shaking hand in hobie’s direction with the intention of pulling your damp panties away from your skin.

it doesn’t get really far. if anything, the moment the elastic waistband brushes against the pads of your fingertips, the fabric is just out of reach again. your hand becomes trapped within hobie’s grip and rests against the sides of your thigh. he fixed you with a glare, or rather the gleam in his light-catching eyes do.

“don’t be a terror,” he mumbles while turning his head towards the soft flesh of your inner thigh. his mouth meet the skin is a soft kiss, teeth just barely grazing behind pillowed lips. “tell me what you want, hm? can’t be ruining the poor angel’s purity.”

before he’s able to finish his sentence, you’re already pouting at the ramifications of your impromptu decision. how dare he suggest you’re better off filling your mouth such dirty words when he could so easily go in what direction you’re clearly steering him towards. “you’re being mean,” you can’t help but fuss and have already begun to tug towards freedom.

your attempt gets you nowhere but in a tighter grip and less than subtle smirk. he doesn’t attempt to hide what malicious intent he may hold. “what do you mean, duck? i’m spoiling you. just tell me what you want.” the way he says it is so condescending, as if it’s absolutely not a big deal and you’re working yourself up. his large brown eyes feign an innocent expression when he hooks a finger on your panties to pull then to the side. “just ask me for it. isn’t that what you want?”

you watch through the darkness as hobie cranes himself just a little further. your pussy is already yearning for him, glittering with cream and revealed to him as a tempting dessert with tart icing. he opens his mouth, letting his tongue dripping in saliva just dangle over your wet cunt. “just ask me. ask me to eat this pussy ‘til you cum. say it.”

a thin line of spit drips from his tongue and gets lost in the whipped mess that is your arousal. it disappears in the milky slick that clings to your folds and you can whimper as though you can feel it searing your nerves.

how did you end up here? you’re trapped in a dance with the devil, fighting between your innate desires and the knowledge ingrained in you. your mouth has already gone dry from hanging open with no words to leave them. your heart pounds within your chest, thrumming behind your ribcage and making the situation all too real.

“ask me, dove. ‘pretty please eat my pussy’. that’s all you gotta do f’me.” his words are are vulgar as his grin, a perfect imitation of an archangel. his eyes fall towards your pearled clit, pulling the hood upwards with his thumb. it’s a soft touch but just as effective in revealing such sensitive skin to him. he can’t help but burble at the sight and lets his tongue dangle over your clit again. another droplet falls in place and you keen, just was before.

“you want it so bad. i know you do. just look at the mess you made. say it. tell me you want it and i’ll give it to you. i’ll give you whatever you want. just have to ask me for it first.” he’s nearly begging for it, begging for you to lose your inhibitions and use him. or let him use you, whichever comes first. “tell me you want it. tell hobie you want it.”

it’s dizzying, almost. you can’t catch up, much less catch your breath. you’re not even sure why you’re winded. it’s not as though you’ve done anything and yet, every breath you take seems to dissipate before it reaches your lungs. this is cruel. it has to be a form of punishment. illegal even, to force such words into your mouth. still, there’s some sort of morbid thrill that comes from it, like this opportunity is a flame in the dark, flickering and taunting you with its warmth. “i – i want you to eat my . . . pussy.”

it’s much slower than you anticipate, the onslaught feeling of his lips circling around your clit and suckling on your watery essence. regardless, the feeling is all the same and results in your legs attempting to clamp shut around his head. it’s a knee jerk reaction that earns you a muffled grumble and two large hands placed firmly on the backs of your thigh. the hold is advantageous in pushing them away from his ears and towards yours.

it’s a simple impulse and yet, it sends fresh adrenaline pumping through your veins. your newly freed hand buries itself in the coarse mix of hair atop hobie’s head. he’s just as receptive to your touch as you are to his, murmuring vibrations against your skin in a deepened hum. it does a number on your sensitive cunt, sending you back to be pressed into the less than comforting mattress. you’ve gathered fist-fulls of hobie’s hair. the feeling grounds you, just enough to keep your sanity from floating away into the pillowy clouds of your imagination.

you can hear his lips wrapped up in your wet walls just as much as you can feel his tongue prodding your insides. he somehow manages to find every cavernous corner within an inch of reach, swallowing each drop of arousal you have to offer. you cry and whine a shaky mixture of “hobie” and “please” over and over again. the words drip from your mouth like a mantra, a lewd prayer that only he can fulfill.

it doesn’t compare to the first time he’s done this, not at all. gentle hands have turned into harsh clutches, fingers digging into your skin. there is less reassurance this time, no soft words exchanged between the two of you past your muted murmurs and his occasional drag of air when his lips leave you. the strangest part of it all is that you’re gushing, far more than you were when he took his sweet time with you.

perhaps this is what you needed all along. this is what you really wanted. a twisted side of you really wanted this. behind the good girl facade, what you really want is a silver-tongued devil to bring you to the precipice of your existence. it just happens to be a mere coincidence that the brink is a blinding orgasm that steals your breath and sends your lurching.

you could say your body began to fight against it, warning you with a tingling sensation that began in the pit of your tummy. it radiates throughout your limbs from there, causing your toes to curl and your hands to circle into tighter fists. you release your hold on hobie’s hair and trade it for the sheets instead. the fabric becomes wrapped and disheveled between your fingertips. you could have warned him, putting a little more effort into getting some lucid words out, but the moment you open your mouth, it’s all incoherent jumble.

hobie doesn’t seem to mind your wordless state. in fact, he gains a sort of ego boost from it by pulling away, ruining your orgasm into a vapid release, all while watching your needy hole wink at him in dissatisfaction. “greedy, greedy girl. what did i say? tell me what you want, hm?” it’s as if you’re not there, merely an extension of your pretty cunt all on display for him. he lays eye-level with it, fascinated by the infinite watery slurry seeping out.

hobie likes to think you were begging for it when he languidly slaps a hot palm on your pussy. he even has a smile across his face and remedies the slight pain by rubbing his hand across your folds. your previous cum provides a glow he’s never seen before. a sweet dewiness handpicked from handspun gold and liquefied into a nectar just for you. “i’ll give you anything, treacle. anything. just ask me for it, would you?”

in hobie’s head, in his depraved mind, this is for him as it is for you. maybe the real reason he was so hesitant to go down this road is because he knew what it would have meant. this very moment signifies the beginning of the end, the moment where every dark and carnivorous desire takes hold and he follows through with what he really wants . . . what hobie really wants.

to let darkness consume and devour you whole, snuffling out your halo until you’re standing in the abyss, illuminated by a single flame. him.

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