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Tags (suck at this): Smut. Pillow plushie humping. Hobie gets off to your clothes? Minimal reader appearance — though very present. No description of reader *at all* — gender neutral reader. Hobie's so damn desperate. Established relationship. English is not author's first language (scapegoat for grammatical errors). Hobie is terrible at getting flirty hints.
Word count: 1071
A/N: This is not the little autistic!reader x hobie I promised, I got derailed okay 😭 but I can keep working on that one now. Have this as a snack.
Humping and pumping, pummeling and jerking, repeatedly slamming. That was Hobie's pelvis against that big ass plushie you gave him for valentines quite a while ago.
The blue bunny was about half as big as himself, so one of his toned arms just had to be holding onto it; sneaking under his humid torso to grip it in place even if it destabilized him a little.
Half an hour ago he might have said, «Nah. I'm not that desperate.».
Half an hour ago he might have thought that this was a ridiculous idea, not the kind of thing he'd do.
Half an hour ago he might, or not, have gotten a little too infatuated with some used clothes of yours that you'd forgotten at his place — at first he just took a shirt and thought, oh? How comforting; sniffing it really feels just like giving you a great hug, he might borrow it.
Then he saw your underwear mixed with his, and some cables started crossing in his mind. And the musky smell he pretended not to care about, even with no one else at home, started affecting his body in an almost embarrassing manner.
“Fuck. Hah- shit.” his heated breath became a heated fog in the cold space, hitting the mattress.
But he didn't have to hold back now, did he? It's not Iike... you would mind... he's your very new partner after all, you know he loves you, it's just expected that he finds you so fucking attractive that it makes him do things. Things like rubbing and sliding his hardened dick on a plush. A plush with some clothes. Maybe your clothes, or maybe not... Thinking about, taking into account, that the almost invisible stain on the inside of your underwear was your juices that he was rubbing against. Who knows why it was so wet, precisely when you'd been at his place too and took a particularly long shower — he felt dizzy at the possible implications.
He imagined, with a considerable amount of conflict sitting in his stomach, that it was you he was thrusting from behind. Gosh, he was that desperate wasn't he? For you, for some attention, love, and specially for proper friction. It's not that these kind of things ashamed him in general, hell, total opposite. It was more of the fact that it was you, somehow managing to flip his heart upside down whenever he thought about you, and the fact that he was picturing you in this way without your knowledge.
If he could, he'd be biting the sheets, trying to convince himself they're the soft skin of your shoulders and neck. He'd done that before when cuddling, he knows it makes you shiver.
Would you sigh if he whispered sweet-things right behind, maybe a little under, the shell of your ear? Would you moan at that? He'd probably discover soon anyway.
He thought about the soft, pink cushion in your mouth; your cheeky and not-at-all slick attempts at trying to get his attention; how nice you were to him. Fuck, were you nice to him. Would you be so nice in bed? He let his mind wander further.
Could you ask kindly, seductively for him to thrust into you from behind like he was doing to that inanimate object? Maybe you'd be nervous as you did? Or as he tasted and felt you squirming in his mouth? Perhaps there'd be a contrast in how you were in bed to your every-day lives — bolder, assertive, a little mean. Shit.
Would you dare speak dirty to him?
Riiiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiing.
His pace faltered. Just as he was getting there, the phone rang from the living. He let it.
Riiiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiing.
He clicked his tongue and paid it no mind. His heavy breathing began to grow into pants, and his panting amounted into irregular whimpers. His heart picked up significantly.
His breath cut-off abruptly and the single drop of sweat on his temple fell to the mattress. His grip on the fake fur of the bunny clenched intermittently; and when he had finished staining your clothes as he slid with force one last time and spilled himself onto them, his nose couldn't help avoiding a sharp intake of air to compensate for the prior lack.
Funny shapes ran away from the darkness behind his eyelids, Hobie controlled the gasps for air his lungs urged him to take to slow down. He took a deep breath, rested his temple on the bed, and let go of the poor bunny which was beginning to resemble the crumpled paper sheet of an academically frustrated student.
He kneeled upright, zoned out while he stared at your clothes still making contact with his, now softened, dick. His hands rested on the 'hips' of the plush, it could very well be the plush of your own.
Riiiiiiiiiing. Riiiiiiiiiing.
“Bloody hell.” he slid off your impersonator and walked over to the phone, not even caring to put on some clothes. It's not like anyone would see him.
Who the fuck was being so insistent? He hoped it wasn't anything crime related, though that'd be unlikely, he wasn't in the mood to kick ass right now, just kiss it. He picked up the phone from the wall, preparing to rub off a possible spam call.
Riiiiiiiiii— “What? Who is it?”
“Caught you in a bad mood?” your slightly distorted voice echoed from the other line. His eyes widened.
“Babe! No, hell. No. It's... Not at all. What's happenin'?”
“Nothing, really. Just missed you. Are you doing anything?”
Hobie looked back to his bed from the living room; the wrecked bunny had a barely discernible streak of white dripping from the back.
“... No. Why? Wanna have a chat?”
“I was thinking we could hang out at my place, maybe. Like, right now.” you spoke casually, though there was a noticeable measuring in your cadence. “Have some fun. I miss you.”
His heart skipped a beat. “Ah. I miss you too, love.” he looked around and walked around picking up random clothes scattered on the floor, trying not to get too far from the wall the phone was connected to. “Should I, uh, bring anything? Ya tell me.”
“Mm. Protection?”
He blinked. Was his brain still fogged up?
“Didn't catch that?”
“Bring some protection.”
“...I don't think I'm deepin' it.”
“I wanna fuck, Hobie.”
Oh, duh. He mentally slapped himself right across the face.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
(And btw it's been a long long time since I read anything from the book so I got a little creative with the designs tho I used the movie cast as a base :v)
