Punk! (Hobie x Reader)

I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU! WHY DO I LOVE YOU??

In his arms, I finally open my eyes. I normally keep them shut on the swing.

  "Not to base!" I call over the wind.

  He pulls us up on a building so that he can hear me. He sets me on my feet and I stagger a bit.

  "I don't want to go to the base," I exhale, a bit exhilarated at the sights right now. Just casually on a roof and my dad is surely going to be looking for me and it'll be all in the news and—

"'ey, baby, you'r shakin'. You alri'?"

"No, Hobie. Not okay right now. Is that a fucking joke!?"

He exhales. Inpatient because I'm taking my anger out on the wrong person.

"Sorry, it's just that I don't know what I'm going to do!" My voice cracks. "I can't give to the poor if I'm fucking poor, you know? What the fuck do I do!? What do I do!?"

And the roof isn't cold anymore because of my rage and fear. The ground is tempting, I look over at the edge.

Hobie steps in front of it to refocus me.

"Don't even think about dat, are you mad, love?"

And I do refocus. And my eyes are on him. "Maybe," I exhale. "Stop me."

"Wha?"

I step closer and caress him, my fingers running over the piercings on his brow.

"Distract me," I exhale, looking at his lips.

"Oh, you'r—"

"Please," I sigh.

He's surprised until he relaxes. And he gives in to my looks. Pulling me close and kissing me with more passion than normal.

His hands go to my hair and with his force, I stumble.

"Hobie," I gasp.

"Distraction," he sighs, taking off his jacket.

"Right—mmh! Right here!?" He barely lets me speak.

He doesn't answer.

Fuck it.

I allow myself to feel everything fully, and regret nothing.

I pull off my tops so that the breeze is on my nipples and they harden.

"Well in it," he says, removing his shirt too.

He hugs me close and puts his tongue down my throat. I bite him and he groans, looking into my eyes.

"Do you have a rubber?" I ask, before getting back to his lips.

  "Five," he breathes into my mouth, barely breaking away to say the word.

  "Tell me what you'll do to me, fuck, tell me what you're thinking," I moan.

  "How you'r breath smells, how easy you ar' to bruise," he starts to tug down my shorts, looking down at my breasts when he breaks away.

  "You want to hurt me?" I moan, excited but breathless.

  "Yeh," he picks me up with one hand and his breath increases as if he doesn't want air in his body.

  "Look at me," he orders. "You'r liner is runny and it's—"

  I shut him up and he groans, loving it. He unbuckles his belt while I cling to his hips with my thighs.

  "Damn button!" He growls, frustrated, kissing me deeper.

  When he gets a grip he's quick with the rubber and enters me as slow as self-control will allow.