the old fan creaks and whines as it blows a lukewarm breeze of perfumed dorm air. the scent of fresh laundry and something citrusy wafts through your nose and pleases a part of your brain. it only adds to your heightened senses, sending your hands tingling, even as they’re wrapped around hobie’s bare shoulders. he’s too tall though, so they slide down the lean expanse of his toned, mahogany colored arms.
they smooth over the soft strands of body hair and when your arms find a comfortable position, you pause, gripping the skin even harder. you almost don’t hear your sweet boyfriend over the sound of your hushed gasped and muted bed squeaks.
“baby,” hobie taps his fingers against your cheek. there’s a smirk tugging on his lips that you can see in the dead of night. it’s just that big. “you okay? not to much is it?” in particular hobie fashion, his words are accompanied by a long drag of his hips sliding his mushroom-head cock outside of your weeping cunt and back inside. it’s languidly slow but hard, thrusting enough for you can feel his semen-filled balls smack against the backs of your thighs.
you have to bite your lip to suppress the whimper clawing its way up your throat. your bent legs quiver, shaking and twitching and snapping shut around his thin waist. you want nothing more than to wrap them around him but the option is taken away from you when a large, calloused hand pushes them apart again.
it only takes half a narrowed glance for you to answer his question. though he tilts his hips upward, making sure the fat tip of his dick brushes against the very beginning of your cervix, you muster up the will to speak. “mhm,” you hum. your brown eyes close and roll. you don’t know what else to say, nor do you think you could say anything.
and hobie knows that.
it’s even more obvious when he smiles — and you just know he does — and wraps that same calloused hand around your throat. it’s an, admittedly, tight grip. one that has you panicking just slightly for air but that’s the fun of it. “use your words, mama.”
a beautiful pair of doe-shaped eyes open again, eyelashes just barely brushing against your upper eyelid. more, more, more. your brain chants it’s repetitive mantra, insistent until your dry lips contort themselves to quietly murmur that one syllable word.
your soft voice contrasts the sound of cars buzzing along the highway just a few miles away. it carries over the background noise, sounding in its own melody. it even piques hobie’s interest, forcing him to push his eyebrows upwards. he soaks in your request with a lowly chuckle. “more? you can barely handle this.”
you almost laugh yourself at such an assumption. you can handle it just fine, you’d say. sure, there’s a couple breathy gasps and whines and maybe you have to remind yourself to keep your knees spread but there’s nothing wrong with what you’re doing.
almost.
before you can conjure up an opposition, that grip on your neck is released and traded for fingers digging into the sheets beside your tangled curls accidentally set free from their bonnet. the even paced push and pull of hobie’s hips is replaced with a vigorous plummet of his dick so deep inside you, it sends a liquidy wave of cream expelling from your cunt to drench his raw dick instead.
you don’t mean to get as loud as you do, moaning loud enough for it to echo in the cluttered room. it merely slips out from your pillowed lips. hobie cuts it short, though, by slapping his hand so tightly over your mouth.
“shhhh.” he says, leaning towards your head and stuffing his other hand beneath the arch of your back. “be quiet.” the gleam of his eyes shows his mischievous nature, even when he glances towards the thin wall separating his single from his suitemate’s.
you can only let out a muffled whimper and pull him closer, finally wrapping your legs around his waist and allowing him close access to your dripping pussy, though he already had it long around for your watery arousal to drip between your spread round cheeks and cover the smooth skin. it leaves a damp spot beneath your lower body that darkens the purple sheets.
“there you go. you like that?” hobie’s pace slows again, more by force instead of convenience with his new close position. his eyes search your expression, drinking up the lewdness singing behind it.
you nod and pulling him even closer. your hand finds its way on his cheek, fingers pressing against the prominent bone that’s makes his face all the more beautifully angular. your lips meet his in a brief competition for dominance, all before you decide to just follow his lead and allowing him to suck on your tongue.
both wet muscles swirl against each other and you swallow the mixture of saliva that floods your mouth. you know you’re insanely in love with him judging by the sweet taste your brain assigns to hobie’s spit. it’s minty but sugary, like a fresh stick of spearmint gum.
“god, you’re so tight.” he presses his forehead against yours. he blinks slowly. his dark eyelashes brush your cheek, dusting them in sweet affection.
all you can do is giggle, tugging on the closest loc you can get your fingers on. your fingertips graze the coarse strands frizzing out of the initial confines it was once in.
“is something funny?” hobie’s baritone voice vibrates through his bare chest as it floats its way out of his throat, akin to a siren’s song that draws you in. his head dips beside yours in a smooth motion. one of his hands go to cradle the very crown of your head, flattening the soft, frizzy strands in their place.
you’ve been with hobie long enough to understand what this hand placement and the deep, soul-reading strokes that come with it. you can only assume your little chuckle didn’t exactly go appreciated. you get a brief second to inhale the warm air into your lungs and hum a quiet mm-mm before he begins moving.
it’s evenly-paced thrusts, hips rolling and angling upwards until his fat cockhead is thoroughly bartering the soft g-spot deep in your cunt. he anchors you in place and his tongue lays flat and warm against the column of your neck.
you can’t help the way your mouth falls, gaping wide and contorted in a soft “o”. you can’t help the sudden dryness your mouth takes on, either, when being faced with such open air but the saliva is quickly replenished when hobie hooks his fingers into your mouth.
it happens rather quickly, long digits flattening against your pink tongue and pushing deep, deep, deep into your throat. you nearly gag, gurgling on the spit that gathers in the very back. you want to whine and thrash, forcing him away until you can gain some decency of yourself but your cunt says otherwise.
it simply gets wetter.
and hobie can feel it, too. he can feel the slick coating his balls and the very lows of his abdomen. he thinks he can feel it dripping down the tops of his thighs. he would smirk, lifting the corners of his brown lips, if it weren’t for just good you felt.
how great and perfect your pussy is. how warm it is, how wet it is, how tight it is. like you here created from moondust and and stars. it makes him grit his teeth and grunt in your ear. he’s nearly animalistic, clawing at the sheets and thrusting as deep into you as he could. there’s a need, a silent whisper deep inside his head. one that can’t help but control his each and every move.
breed her. breed her. breed her.
and he can tell you’re close, too. there’s beginning to be an unrhythmic jerks to your movement. it’s almost like you’re trying to follow the sticky staccato of two bodies moving together in the lowlight, but you’re always a few steps behind.
“oh my — fuck!” your hands fly to circle around his frame. you can feel the muscles pulling taut with every movement hobie does. you’re drunk in it, in him. he’s perfect, too good at what he does and so close to pushing you over the edge.
you do your best to crane your neck to look at him, hoping to spare just a glance if not hold the contact while that orgasm wracks through your body. it’s only a few thrusts away, buzzing beneath your nerves and resting right on the tip of your tongue. you can taste it, a saccharine flavor, syrupy and thick that coats your taste buds.
your back arches even further, pressing into his chest. a large breath of air fills your lungs to the brim, expanding in your chest. your eyes flutter clothes and you dig your nails into his back. “it’s right there,” you’re so airy as you say it. your whole body tenses with anticipation.
it’s building, right in the precipice, and begging to wrack through your body —
like hobie can’t stop kissing your chubby belly, he is just obsessed with it🤭 and can you make it smut please?? 🙏
ts cuz my requests are full with chubby reader smut😭 here y'all go babes
Chubby
Hobie Brown x chubby!fem!reader
Warning/s: smut, fingering, p in v, petnames, praise kink, no use of y/n, body worship (r receiving)
"Quit squirming, dove" hobie mumbled as he put all of his attention on holding your nude body still, right beneath him.
"hobie- please" his hands were all around your body, his face mainly squeezed into your belly as he made sure to kiss every part of it, his finger tips digging into your sides.
you could hear his muffled chuckle against your skin before his fingers travelled down to inbetween your thighs. "so desperate, huh?"
a sudden gasp left your lips as you felt two of his fingers push into you, the wet squelchy noise being embarassingly loud.
you moaned out his name as his fingers thrusted into you while his plump lips continued leaving kisses all over your upperbody. his thumb came up to your clit, rubbing it in circles as you bucked your hips towards his touch, whining and pleading for more.
"patient, luv. girls like you should earn their pleasure by bein' good"
you spread your legs, feeling your arousal dripping down your thighs. whimpering from embarassment, you shifted your body, squirming away from hobie's touch.
and maybe you should've listened to him when he told you to be patient.
or when he told you to earn your own pleasure.
but you didn't, and thats how you ended up on all fours on the edge of the bed with hobie fucking into you from behind, his large hands sliding up and down your sides as he mumbled over and over how much he loved your cunt, how good you're taking him, and how much he loved your body.
"Fuck- ya feel this, baby?" he grunted as he gripped into the fat of your thigh and waist "'ts all fuckin' mine. shit‐ love this s'fuckin' much"
"hobes!—" you squeaked out as the tip of his dick reached all the right spots, going as deep as possible while your skin smacked against eachother.
his pace started to pick up as a ring of white, sticky liquid formed around his dick. ever so often he would pull out, so he could see his precum connecting from your hole to his tip, only to slam into you again.
you whimpered, all cockdrunk for him as you werent really processing his words. that was until he stilled inside of you.
"'m sorry! 'm your pretty pretty girl"
you could basically feel his smug smirk as he started slamming into you again. your voice and words somehow making hobie harder than before.
he grunted before lifting your upperbody so your back was to his chest. his hands held your body steady as he fucked you.
he noticed the way your body started to give in, so with one last, deep thrust, he made you scream his name out loudly as you finally reached your high, yelping as he helped you ride it out before he released his cum all over your ass right after.
You both fell into the sheets next to each other, breathing heavily.
Warnings: mentoins and mild description of sh. mild angst.
I AM NOT CONDONING SH THIS IS FOR PPL WHO ARE STRUGGLING.
Hobie x Reader, Gender non-specific reader, platonic or dating idk, fluff. (Not corny, I swear😭)
Its been a long fucking day and your a mess. You arrive to your apartment and try to relax by turning on your TV, lighting a candle, and sitting down for a little. But you remain to feel restless and shaken up. You just can't seem to get rid of the stress, and it begins to eat away at you.
You adventually look over to where u hide your blades.... fuck... you try not to think about it, you've been clean for so long. but you were so desperate to feel better. You continue staring at the hiding place. Adventually, you stand up and walk over to the hiding place. You grab your blade and a few bandaids and sit back down on your bed. You begin cutting, adventually getting too into it, drowning out your surroundings under the sound of your tv, tears began streaming down your face as blood streams down your skin.
After a moment, you notice a sudden presence in your room. You freeze. Your eyes move to the person..
Its Hobie. The orange portal from his watch blips out of existence behind him. Hes always just showing up.
You build up the courage to look up at him, your face still teared up, your skin still bleeding.
For one of the first times, you see him thunder struck, his eyes wide as he froze, he saw your wounds and the blade in your hand. He knew about your past scars and issues around this stuff but never thought he'd see it.
The two of you stare at each other, not knowing what to say. A light panic sinks in, and you feel your mind start to buzz. You squeeze out a weak, shaky "Uhhhm-" trying to think of somthing too say but Hobie interrupts you. "Bloody hell, y/n." He says, his voice hoarse and soft with concern. Heavy contrast to his usual nonchalant and cocky additude. He began to walk up to you, sitting next to you on the bed cautiously.
His gaze went to your hands, and he adjusted himself to sit facing you. His eyes went down to your hands and where you cut. Hobie carefully took the blade out of your frozen hand, placing it to the side. Then he silently took one of the bandaids you grabbed and carefully placed one over a wound. You heard him take a deep breath, trying to compose himself and think of something to say. He hated to see you like this. He hated that you did this to yourself. "I-.." he began but huffed, you look to his face it was hard and serious, his jaw clenched, eye brows furrowed, but his eyes soft.
"You dont deserve this, luv." He told you softly as he continues to patch you up. You swear you could've passed out with how overwhelmed you were with your emotions. "'ut of anyone, 'specially not you." He added his voice soft but stern, his accent increasing with his emotions. You think about saying something back, but you couldn't squeeze out a sound even if you tried. Your eyes return to watching him patch you up, your eyes avoiding his.
He finished patching you up. His hand went to yours, wrapping around it, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. His eyes hesitantly went to your face, his other hand cups your face. "Are you ok, luv?" Hobie asked, concern evident in his voice. You take a deep breath. "Yeah, Hobie. Im fine." You sniffed, your voice shakey. He let out a small 'hmph' unsatisfied with your answer. "Look at me." He asked mildly sternly. You hesitantly comply, not wanting to argue or embarrass yourself. His eyes lay softly of your face. "You can't keep doing this to yourself." He stated, his hand on your face going to wipe away any tears that may still be on your face. Your eyes rest on his. He began to stand his hand remain on the said on your face. He looked down at you. "I'll be back in a moment, you should lay down." Hobie grabbed the band-aid wrappers and and the blade and left your room.
You comply with Hobie asking you to lay down, and your attention goes to your tv. After a moment, Hobie comes back. He's out of his work clothes now in his boxers and under shirt. He crawls into your bed and lays down next to you, his arms wrap around you, and he holds you close. "You're gonna be ok." He mutters. You felt more comfortable in his arms than you have all week, this is what you needed too feel better. <3🩹
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