Hobie Doodle

Hobie Brown <3

Hobie Brown Roommate headcanons

He's awake at the randomest of times, you'll walk out in the living room at two am and he's just sitting on the couch stitching up his vest, listening to his punk music quietly playing beside him.

Hes kinda an older brother in a way, checking up on you with a knock on your door, walking inside (with your permission of course) and touch the things that interest him, and he may or may not steal the occasional hoodie or sweatpants from you.

He would make extra portions of his food for you if you seem busy throughout the week, taking interest in what your preferences are and what you avoid.

Hes a relatively clean roommate, picking up around the house, doing chores but not without his music blasting, even trying to get you to dance with him. "C'mon, lovey! Feel the rhythm!" He would wiggle his eyebrows, trying to convince you.

If you have previous band experience, he would probably be a bit more comfortable with you, talking and rambling on the couch together about a new band he has been wanting to see and you guys would gush over your favorite bands together.

I don't get jealous

For once, on the way home from watching Hobie and his band play down at the new pub that has opened up, McGregors, Hobie is silent on the ride home, only murmuring soft replies to whatever question or comment I say to him, an deep in thought expression on his handsome face.

I frown as the bus we're on stops and Hobie gently grabs onto my hand and leads me to the front, and down the steps, and off of the bus giving a small two fingered salute to the bus driver, who Hobie knows and is allowed free rides from.

I give a polite wave to the bus driver and the man in the black cap nods before driving off and Hobie begins to walk, moving his hand from holding mine to gently holding the loop on the side of my pants as we walk together towards our apartment.

Its about a five minute walk but still Hobie is silent, brushing his thumb over the hip part of my pants in casual affection and that only makes me think harder. 'he doesn't seem angry at me...so what is going on?'

Once we reach our apartment, Hobie swiftly grabs onto the key ring on his own belt loop, taking if off and unlocking the door with familiar ease before replacing the key ring back onto his belt loop gently pushing me inside before himself.

"Is everything alright, babe?" I ask softly, taking off my jacket and placing it on the wooden coat rack beside our door. Hobie merely gives a small dismissive hum, "Yeah, I'm alright, keen as a peach." He murmurs, shedding his own jacket, placing it beside mine before walking further into our apartment.

My eyebrows furrow together at the dismissive tone, and I begin to trail Hobie, following him into our bedroom to where he's sat on our bed, untying his boots.

"You haven't said an actual sentence that isn't dismissive, since we left the pub. What is going on?" I ask, kneeling in front of him with concerned eyes.

Hobie looks up from untying his boots, and there's an small scowl on his face but I already know it isn't directed at me. "One of the blokes had the gawl to gauke at you after the show, I seen him in the crowd watching you like you weren't nothing but a pretty face." He huffs, tone coming out more irritated, but he continues. "Then, the new guy on bass, Archie or whatever asked if you n' me were serious-" Hobie's rant is cut off by an irritated groan, finally untying both of his boots with more than needed force.

I put my hands out in front of me in a calming gesture, "Woah, woah, sweetheart. It's okay." I say, trying to cool Hobies irritable and upset mood, I bring one hand up to cup Hobies cheek, gently stroking my thumb over his flushed cheek.

"It's alright to get jealous, I get jealous sometimes too-" I'm cut off by Hobie narrowing his eyes at me, as he tongues the inside of his cheek. 'oh boy'

"I dont get jealous." He scoffs lightly as if the mere idea is ridiculous, crossing his arms over his chest as he glares at me half heartedly.

I quickly begin to backtrack, nodding. "Of course..but it isn't a bad thing that you might be." I say, trying to reassure him but that doesn't seem to be a good enough answer for Hobie as he keeps his narrowed gaze on me, jaw clenching and unclenching.

I don't have a moment to react before Hobie leans forward, placing his hands behind my thighs as I'm still kneeling in front of him and gently lifts me up into his lap, effectively making me straddle his thighs.

I can't get a word in either as Hobie leans his head into my neck, breathing in my scent and the tension practically melts away from his body. "I don't get jealous." He repeats softly, pressing soft kisses to the pulse point of my neck, his hands finding my hips to bring me closer to him.

I only breathe out an agreeing "Uh-huh" as my hands tangle in the back of his hair. 'this is going to be an interesting night' I think to myself, cheeks flushing from the incoming thoughts as Hobies lips go lower...

Note:

If you guys send me requests, I assure you I will get to them in due time but I don't want to just give an "slightly okay" story, i want to give you guys something both you and I would read multiple times, I also like to do some research beforehand to make the stories accurate and relatable, but I'm currently struggling with some writers block at the moment although i assure you i will get to requests when possible! Your guys requests are awesome and I appreciate them all very much! <3

Sickly Sweet Part II

I shuffle about in the kitchen, buttering two pieces of toast onto a plate before walking over towards the stove, stirring the pot of soup with the spoon sticking out of it. The atmosphere is almost peaceful if it weren't for the sound of a ball bouncing off of a wall coming from the bedroom down the hall.

Tap...tap...tap.

Then silence.

"Baaaaaabe?" Hobies stuffy voice rings out from the open bedroom door, and I can't help the small tinge of frustration in my tone.

"Yes, Hobie?" I call back over my shoulder, opening up a cupboard above the stove to grab a tray as well as a bowl for the soup.

Another beat of silence passes.

"That ain't right...you callin' me by my government name jus cause you're upset with me." He whines.

At that, I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Well, sweetheart if you weren't kissing all up on me when I was sick we wouldn't be in this position." I throw over my shoulder, before facing the soup once more, filling it up to the brim with homemade chicken soupy goodness, placing it on the tray next to the two slices of toast on the small plate.

Another beat of silence before a sneeze rings out from the bedroom, an small irritated groan following afterwards. I begin to walk towards the bedroom, tray in hand and once I enter the doorway I'm greeted with the sight of Hobie, burrowed underneath at least four blankets with a cold compress on his head looking absolutely miserable.

"I ain't pleading the fifth..." He murmurs, looking at me with tired puppy dog eyes, the lack of eyeliner apparent due to him feeling too sick to put any on himself but his natural eye bags are as present as ever. I give an amused huff as I walk closer, setting the tray of hearty food on the makeshift-crate before sitting beside him.

"How are you feeling?" I ask, removing the cold compress on his forehead and replacing it with the back of my hand, checking his temperature. 'still hot' I think to myself.

"Miserable, I think this may be it for me." Hobie grunts, but leans into my hand regardless of how gross he feels right now.

"I'd like to write my last will and testament." He groans. "You'll get everything of course, lovey, but Pav gets my record player, he's been eyeing it for months I swear it-" I interrupt Hobie's tangent with a gentle shove to the forehead, making him lay down on the pillows.

"You're not dying, my god. Are you always this insufferable?" I question although I already know the answer, and letting out a small laugh, I had the same thing not even a week ago and I wasn't nearly as bad as Hobie.

Hobie merely sniffles, and nods. "You love that about me." He comments, familiar cocky smile shining on his lips.

I merely sigh and nod, "Yes, I do love that about you." Unable to stop the small smile of fondness in my face, my hands move and gather the tray of food from the side table, and place it on his lap.

"C'mon, eat and get your strength up." I gently urge, and Hobie sits back up, eyeing the food before taking one of the toasts from the plate and dipping it into the bowl of soup before tearing a bite out of it. He hums in quiet delight at the taste before swallowing.

"Thank you, Sweet pea. Mean it." He says, tired eyes squinting up as he smiles at me, before snuggling himself further into the pillows behind him.

"I don't suppose your bedside manner includes kisses and cuddles?" He suggests with a cheesy smile and eyebrow wiggle, taking another bite of the soup damp toast.

I let out a laugh, shaking my head. "Not happening." I say to which Hobie nods, shrugging his shoulders. "Was worth a shot." He smiles anyway.

Hobie Brown with an insomniac S/O

-Hobie probably has some insomniac tendencies as well, so the both of you might stay up together until one falls asleep, covering whomever falls asleep first up with an blanket.

-Hobie would try to be the one to head to bed last if he can help it, making you a soothing tea or snack in attempts to relax you to bed before him OR he would blast his punk music and get to you to dance with him on the bed, trying to tire the both of you out completely in attempt for sleep. It's usually the second option.

-He would totally suggest an pillow fight, sometimes you'd be just watching something on the television late at night and, you'd have a second to react before a pillow would be thrown in your direction. "To the death!" Although it would mostly end with the both of you panting on the floor, having exhausted yourselves running about the apartment, dodging, ducking and smacking each other with pillows. "Worth it." Hobie would wheeze.

-If you're not feeling up to a snack or a midnight mosh pit in your room, Hobie is more than content to just hold you in his arms, while one hand is either rubbing up and down your back or fiddling with your hair murmuring softly about his day, and when you finally fall asleep to his voice, he would just admire for a few moments, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead and whispering tired reassurance for your dreams. "S'all right there, Sweet pea."

Sickly Sweet

Like Clockwork, every year in the spring I get sick. Be it the flu, extreme irritable allergies that won't go away or just a stubborn cough. It happens.

I groan, trying to shuffle some of the blankets that are cocooning and holding me hostage in my boyfriend's bed off of me, searching for a moment of rest from being so hot.

"What do you think you're doin'?" Comes from the doorway, and I practically deflate at the sound of that cocky voice I love so much.

"Babe, I need a minute without these blankets suffocating me." I quietly hiss, glaring at Hobie.

Hobie only walks closer, stopping right by my side to take the damp rag from my forehead and placing a fresh and cold one in its place.

I can't help but tense up at the sudden coldness of it but it becomes very welcomed after I get used to the feeling.

"Is this really necessary..?" I huff, but Hobie merely gives me an raised eyebrow look, and I roll my eyes.

"Open up, Lovey." He says, grabbing the thermometer from the crate-makeshift side table. I only glare at Hobie, eyes narrowed in refusal and pure stubbornness. "No."

"No?" Hobie repeats, an amused smile rising to his lips, shiny piercing at the corner of his lips catching in the dim light of the bedroom lamp.

"No, this is childish and I don't want to-" I'm interuptted by Hobie swiftly catching my jaw in one hand, placing the thermometer gently into my mouth and under my tongue, shutting my mouth around the thin piece of metal.

"Hush and let me take care of my darling, alright?" He murmurs, eyeing the thermometer and me with his own stubborn yet loving look.

All I can do is sigh and nod, letting Hobie keep me trapped underneath piles of blankets, fetching me cool rags to place on my forehead and hope I don't sweat to death.

Hot Damn

A simple bet is how your night started.

A simple, yet incredibly irritating bet. Hobie's best mate, Jensen, had opened his fat mouth, likely running on more than enough liquid courage then the amount both Hobie and you had drank in the few hours you've been at the bar.

"I'd bet that you two love birds can't manage to not touch each other by midnight." Jensen bets, his open beer nearly sloushes over the table as he gestures to Hobie's arm drapped over your shoulder, you roll your eyes but you can just feel Hobie's gears moving in his head at the taunt from Jensen.

"Oh? And what are you betting?" Hobie hums, eyeing Jensen over the rim of his own drink, quirking an intrigued eyebrow at his best friend, rubbing his hand up and down soothingly where it rests on your upper arm. Jensen shrugs, before his eyes brighten, likely with an not so good idea you presume. "How about this, you guys don't touch each other until midnight and I'll shut up whenever you tell me to, and I'll even throw in a six pack." He throws in, and you see Hobie look down at you in silent question 'what do you say?' Hobies eyes communicate.

It isn't necessary an...awful idea as you expected it to be, so you nod in agreement. "Deal." You say, taking an swig of your own drink as Hobie retracts his arm from your shoulders with one last lingering touch before placing it on the table as Jensen smiles cheekily.

How hard could it be, right?

Apparently it's about as hard as walking an straight line when you're pissed drunk.

You stew in your irritation, occupying yourself at peeling away the already ripped leather of the booth seat you're sitting on, flickering your gaze to watch Jensen and Hobie playing pool across the room. You think you're the only one suffering from the no touching bet, until you notice the small longing glances Hobie sends you way whenever Jensen turns to line up his pool cue, his eyes lingering on your form as his lips frown in an sympathetic gesture.

You sigh quietly, stopping your picking distraction of the poor leather seat to take another swig of your drink, nearly choking when you hear an familiar voice call out to you, "Hey! I didn't know you came here. What a coincidence." The voice laughs and you turn in your seat, eyes widening in confirmation. It's Jeremiah, your most recent ex. Walking right up to your table.

You clear your throat as you muster an tight fake smile, absolutely caught off guard from seeing Jeremiah after months of not running into him, debating if it were truly an coincidence.

"Jeremiah! What a...pleasure, I didn't expect to see you here either." You laugh, although it's tinged with nervousness as you push down the disbelief you're feeling. You glance over at Hobie, expecting him to be unbothered playing with Jensen still, freezing up slightly when you're met with Hobie's unimpressed pointed look at Jeremiah, looking him up and down, before his gaze meets yours, with an much softer look although it's still cautious.

You nod, reassuring Hobie from across the room that you've got this. Hobies shoulders lose a bit of their tension, his grip on his own pool cue loosening as he nods back, giving his own reassuring small smile before turning his back to return to playing with Jensen. Hobie knows you can fight your own battles although that doesn't stop him from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every now and then.

Jeremiah settles himself across the booth from you, his eyes taking you in as If it's the last time he would ever see you. "Well, you certainly have changed, haven't you?" He hums, leaning his hand on the table top. You give an small shrug, "Yeah, that's kinda what happens when you don't see each other for months." You murmur, looking at Jeremiah with unimpressed eyes. Your split with him wasn't necessarily messy or emotional, he just claimed to have lost feelings and you both parted your own ways.

Jeremiah chuckles a hint bashfully, "I suppose you have a good point." He smiles slightly, his eyes drifting down to where your hand rests on the tabletop, his hand beginning to move not so subtly towards yours.

"I was thinking we could-" Jeremiah is cut off by an quick flash of color, an arm placed right between Jeremiah's hand trying to meet yours, slamming against the table "So sorry." Hobie's unapologetic voice says, his hand pulling back with one of his many rings in the palm. "Forgot my ring." He smiles unrepentantly although the smile doesn't reach his eyes as he places the ring back on his index finger. You're sure there weren't any of his rings on the table when he left..

"Oh dear, don't tell me I'm interrupting." Hobie says as he slides into the booth seat beside you, his tone filled with sarcasm, he seemed hell bent on letting this poser on knowing he wasn't welcomed as he glares expectantly at the man across from him.

Jeremiah practically flinches back in his seat, his hands moving up in an placating defensive motion. "I didn't know she was with someone, I'm so sorry mate." He apologizes, and you can practically feel how wound tight Hobie is as his leg bounces slightly beneath the table with adrenaline.

"Sorry? Nah, nah, you're not sorry but if you're not out of this booth by the time my girl blinks, you will be." Hobie's voice drops into an unfriendly blunt tone, Jeremiah staggers to his feet, taking no chances, you're half tempted to blink just to see what Hobie had planned for him.

Hobie lets out an chuckle, watching Jeremiah retreat to the other side of the bar with such quick feet you'd think his feet were on fire. Hobie leans back in his seat beside you, his arm twitching as he begins to drape it over your shoulder, just barely remembering the bet as his arm hovers, adjusting it to lay over the back of the booth with an irritated huff. "This bet is going to be the proper death of me." He murmurs beside you, and you sigh, nodding in agreement, resisting the urge to cuddle up against him as you normally do whenever in reaching distance of him.

"How much longer do we have?" You ask, bringing your drink back to your lips to take the last swallow of the refreshing liquid. Hobie leans his head back, squinting his eyes as he reads the clock hanging above the entrance of the bar. "Thirty more minutes." He groans softly, you groan along with him at the news. "This sucks." You murmur, rubbing your hands over your face.

Hobie hums in agreement, his eyes drifting over to where Jeremiah is ordering an drink at the bar. "Especially with that bloody poser.." he rolls his eyes, his fingers twitching momentarily as he moves to brush an lock of hair out of your face before pulling back with barely restrained frustration, it doesn't help when Jensen comes by with a tray full of drinks, sitting down across the booth.

"I got the drinks!" He says with such drunken cheerfulness it makes your teeth grit not to mention Jensen being both Hobie and yours reason for being irritated, "Oh, fuck off Jensen." You and Hobie say in unison. Jensen just sighs, used to this treatment, "Why does everyone hate the guy who brings the drinks?" He murmurs.

Thankfully about twenty five minutes goes by swiftly, partly due to the nice liquid distractions in front of you. Hobie seems to still be tense, gripping his drink tightly as he drinks at it, his attention seeming elsewhere while his foot taps against the ground beneath the table, you're more interested in listening to Jensen yap on about his girl troubles, using that as another welcome distraction than losing the bet and accidentally touching Hobie out of pure instinct, although your distraction excuses himself to the restroom leaving you wanting for more juicy girl drama.

The clock on the wall begins to ding, indicating it's midnight, you don't even have an moment to think before you're hoisted from your seat beside Hobie and into his lap and spun around to face him as something hard presses into your inner thigh. "Alright, if any of you don't want a show, get out!" Hobie announces to the bar, before his head ducks into the crook of your neck, pressing hot open mouthed kisses and nips to the sensitive flesh there, your protests getting caught in your throat.

There aren't many patrons in the bar, thankfully, but the ones that are there begin to already shuffle out, even the bartender decides to fuck off, merely telling Hobie to lock the door behind him once we're done. Jeremiah is seen gawking at the bar, rooted in place. Hobie turns his head to face him still nuzzles into your neck, sneering slightly. "You had your chance, mate. She's all mine now." And to prove his point Hobies large hand comes down to your ass, squeezing and fondling you through the fabric of your jeans, making you squeal slightly as he rocks you against his erection in his jeans, the friction hitting against your clit just right.

"Be a good lap dog n' scram." Hobie huffs, one of his hands moving to shuffle your shift up, pushing past your bra to suckle at one perky nipple, you can't help but melt into his touch after so long of being restricted from him, wrapping one of your hands into his wicks to push him further into your chest in encouragement, you don't even notice Jeremiah rushing out with an small barely noticable limp, he's going to be nursing his own excitement all by himself it seems.

Hobie continues to lavish that one nipple before pulling back to give an similar treatment to the other, swirling his talented tongue around the sensitive nub. You whine impatiently, grinding your core against his erection through his pants, he grunts at the friction, moving back to look at you with blown pupils, his hips rising upwards to meet your needy movements.

"Tell me who you belong to, lovey." he huffs, his head burrowing back into your neck, biting and suckling purpling love marks. Your back arches as he finds your sensitive spot on your neck with familiar expertise, "Mmfh- I'm all yours, only yours." You reassure him softly, your hand still gripping gently into his wicks.

Hobie groans against your neck before he pulls back, "That'll do it." He nods, lifting you out of his lap to stand before quickly hopping out of his seat, unbuttoning and pushing past the confines of his pants while you do the same, once both barriers are out of the way, he gently but firmly bends you over the tabletop, giving your ass an quick appreciative smack, rubbing it when you turn your head to glare at him half heartily. "You missed my touch didn't you, sweetheart?" He hums, nudging his length to your wet entrance, coating the tip of his dick in your arousal, even in his own need he never fails to tease you at least once. You nod with an whine, trying to roll your hips back onto him, even widening your legs to further entice. "Of course I did! Please just fuck me." You huff with an hint of desperation, trying to look back and see if Hobie at least looks like he'll be merciful and fuck you properly.

Hobie chuckles, one hand moving to wrap gently around your throat as he leans over your back, "So impatient, be a good girl n' take it." He murmurs against the shell of your ear you don't have a moment to call him a hypocrite before his hips move forward, his cock sliding in with barely any resistance from your wet walls welcoming him inside, the both of your groan in bliss as the wonderful feeling of being connected.

"That's it baby, so good f'me." Hobie groans, beginning to thrust into you, pulling almost all the way back until sinking back in with deep strokes, finding an rhythm quickly, you can't help but whimper beneath him, your hands in front of your to steady yourself from his deep thrusts. His grip on your throat remain gentle and sweet, his thumb stroking softly at the marked flesh of your neck.

"O-only for ah~ you." You choke out, barely heard over the sound of wet skin on skin, and Hobies heavy breaths and groans. His dick twitches inside of you, his head goes into the back of your neck as his thrusts falter for just a moment. "G-goddamn.." he curses, "Sweetheart, if you keep saying stuff like that I won't last fer' much longer..." He pants against your neck, the hand not on your throat holds your hip steady, as he pounds into you.

Your walls flutter around him, as the coil in your belly tightens in arousal as his words hit a certain chord in you. You practically purr as your hands turn white on the grip on the edge of the table, you know it isn't a good idea but fuck it, you're already here. "Not gonna fuck, a-ah~ me proper?" You tease through your moans, and that seems to be Hobies final straw, he growls before the hand on your hip drifts to your inner thigh, lifting it up before he thrusts up into you, way deeper because of the new position. "This 'proper' enough for you?" He huffs into your ear his accent thickening, not waiting for a response as he thrusts up into you like his life depended on it, his hand moving further, moving your thigh onto his forearm while he begins to apply just the amount of pressure to your clit the way you like it.

You yelp, your hips bucking at the sudden stimulation and your orgasm practically crashes down on you, Hobies name getting caught in your throat. Hobie hisses at your walls clamping down on him, his own orgasm ripping through him as hot thick ropes of cum flood your velvet walls, you both cry out together as you share your climaxes, Hobie softly fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure, murmuring soft praises into your ear and for a moment, you're both panting and basking in the afterglow until an door is heard creaking open.

"Hey, where did everyone go?" Jensens clueless voice chimes, Hobie and you look over just in time to see Jensen return to the main area of the bar, his eyes widening comically at the sight of Hobie leaning over you and his hand still gripping your inner thigh, your lower half practically on display.

"Hot damn.."

"Fuck off, Jensen." You and Hobie groan in unison.

oh geez umm no anon option SCREAMS

BUT

i read ab the hispanic s/o hcs and i absolutely ADORED it :D

sadly im not hispanic

but thats why im here

what ab hobie with an asian s/o ?

(u dont needa do this ask if you dont want to, i was just wondering :D)

(Thank you so much! I try to fulfil requests when I'm able to but please keep sending ideas guys, they're amazing!)

Hobie Brown with an Asian S/O!

-When you're cooking in the kitchen, he can't help but want to be apart of the process, volunteering for cutting veggies or asking questions for what each sauce does for each dish, and of course he's going to be your taste tester! "Oh. My. Days. This is delicious, can you make more???"

-He's intrigued in your traditional clothes if you have any, maybe even getting inspiration for a few of his tinkerings with the patterns from your clothes in mind, adding the patterns to his devices with his own punk flare. He would often make little jewelry pieces for you as well, noticing what you prefer, be it earrings, bracelets, necklaces or rings, he's taking note of what you like to wear and what you don't for future gifts!

-When you get to cleaning the apartment, he's cleaning right beside you as you both talk and laugh about how your days went, and when you're both finally finished, Hobie suggests that you guys make dinner together, trying eagerly to learn your delicious family recipes. "I'm not saying that I eat this everyday if I could but.... actually yes that's what I'm saying."

Hobie Brown as a Lover Headcanons!

Hobie Brown as an lover would be an whirlwind, there's no denying it.

He could go from passionate and rough to slow and sensual the next moment. "Come on darlin' a little bit more, mmfh- good girl~" to "You like it rough, oh yes you do, such a good little slut f'me, aren't you?"

He is devoted to your pleasure, ensuring that no matter where or what is happening that you feel the best you can be. "You feeling good, sweetheart?...good, good."

This man lives for quickies, the thrill, the adrenaline rush from possibly being caught is just too good a temptation for him to resist. He would pull you into the back stage room of his band's hangout, and settles you on top of one of the folding tables they have lying about, and absolutely pounds you. If you complain about possibly breaking the table mid passionate moment, he would huff an laugh, "I'll buy the bloody thing if it breaks, who gives a shit?" He would shut you up with kisses the next moment, maybe even thrusting into you a bit faster to make your mouth a bit occupied with moaning his name.

He eats pussy like no ones business, he has had previous partners and he has learned plenty. He would first learn your preferences, what you prefer and what you love. He would let your hand reach down and grip onto his wicks, and he absolutely loves it when you get lost in the pleasure he's giving you and pulls on his wicks. "Ooh! Tug a bit harder, love.." he would encourage huskily against your wet folds, flicking his tongue just a bit faster to make your legs tremble under his enamored gaze, his hands firmly keeping your hips in place, often rubbing reassuring small circles into the flesh.

Hobie has an high sex drive, often times it will result in morning sex more often than not, he would roll over and tug you gently into his arms, pressing his hard length in his boxers against your thigh or against your backside, grinding slightly. His hands would trail up and down your sides as he whispers sweet nothing's into your ear. "Please, baby? I'll make you feel so good, promise..." He would whisper, and within the next moment he's in between your legs, rolling his length into you almost lazily. "Such a greedy cunt, hm?" He would tease softly, nuzzling his nose into your neck as he fucks you slow.

Love bites, he absolutely loves them. Loves to receive them and give them, if you bruise easily he would be tickled pink at the sight of your neck obliterated with bites and hickeys, if you would get a bit angry at him he would come up behind you in the mirror as you think about how to cover them up, Hobie would lean his head down on your shoulder, his eyes focused on the marks in the mirror on your neck, practically oozing pride and affection. "Hmm...s'not that bad, you wanna make me match?" He would cackle and dodge from your swatting hands.

His favorite positions would probably be with you on his lap or mating press, against any surface really. he just loves being able to see your face scrunched up in pleasure, especially if it were a situation where you had to stay quiet. His hand gripping onto your hip as he fucks into you, with one arm above your head to brace himself and fuck into you just a bit harder as you bite onto your lip to stay quiet. He would smirk, leaning close into your ear as he tugs your leg up higher onto his hip, angling himself to hit all the right spots he knows drive you crazy. "C'mon, lovey, you don't want them to hear, do you?" He would coo mockingly into your ear.