SELFISH

SELFISH

HOBIE BROWN X BLACK CAT!READER

WARNINGS: smut, black cat is white in comics but there’s no mention of race here, black reader in mind tho, british slang, gwen stacy is mentioned but it’s the gwen in hobies earth NOT ghost spider gwen , royal family existence

a/n: wrote this for my black british ppl dem, hobies existence kinda made me proud. i put some british slang/phrases here n there. also, black cat is an underrated love interest i wish they put her in a movie.

It’s midnight, what better time to steal the crown jewels? Yes, it’s heavily guarded and there’s a slim chance you’ll even make it out alive but you needed them more than some overrated family. They don’t even belong to the royals, right?

You navigate through the tower of London, looking for something worthy of taking and risking your life for. Last time, you took (what was apparently) Queen Victoria’s robe and one of those fancy looking crowns. This is light work to you, but since you know the guards will be changing shifts in fifteen minutes, all you want to do is get the big one and leave.

Oh, what’s the big one you ask? St Edwards crown.

Yes, it’s not entirely ethical, robbing something from the most notorious robbers in history but it’s better off them and in someone elses hands, you figure.

Someone reliable, honest and responsible like you

Plus, your not greedy, the charity organisations were frequently shocked when ‘Anonymous’ donated $1,000,000 every month or so.

When you come face to face with with St Edwards Crown, your eyes widen behind your black goggles in amusement. The diamonds looked so…big.

After you fawned over the gleam of all the rubies and diamonds, you took out your laser and, carefully, cut a circle into the glass. Slowly, and gently, you pulled the cut glass away from the rest of the box.

Once your gloved hands touched the crown, you felt an odd chill in your spine.

“Oh, don’t mind me, love, just enjoying the show..” That familiar voice causes a smirk to appear on your face. When you turn around, you see that same patriotic red and blue covered by silver spikes. He’s leaning on the wall, arms crossed. You wonder how long he’s been standing there.

Or if he even cares that you’re stealing from his beloved monarchy.

“Spidey, strange to see you here…” You smirk before quickly replacing the real crown with a replica so no weight detectors could go off. Hobie smirked behind his spiked mask, “Strange to see me ‘ere? In my city?”

You loudly roll your eyes, putting your new souvenir in your bag. “Y’know what I mean. Did you see what I got this time?”

“The big one…Look at you! A year ago you were robbing the richest men in Dubai..” He chuckled as you smiled at his compliment. His heavy boots almost scare you when he walks up to you, he could alarm a guard.

Not wanting to cause a breach in security, you took out your grappler and shot up to the ceiling, “I’d love to stay with you, Bee, but a new apartment is calling my name!”

Bee. He smiled at the nickname as he remembered the many times you’d say it.

He stares at your every move, and how every one of your movements makes your body look so damn sexy. Your latex black suit giving you that perfect silhouette, not to mention the fluffy white fur on your calf and chest that ultimately made you look regal.

“For fuck sake..” He sighed. He remember what Miguel commanded.

‘Stop being an anarchist or whatever you call yourself and actually try capture the bad guys!’

Suddenly, five bright flashes shone into Hobies eyes, blinding the man as security guards rushed into the room. They had their tasers in one hand and flashlights in the other, analysing the room and the shattered glass from the glass roof. All Hobie could do in response was kiss his teeth.

“Took you lot long enough…” He raised his hands, surrendering as if he was trying to make them think that they had control.

They stepped closer to him, “What are you doin ‘ere, Spider?”

Hobie groaned again. The fact that this was the useless security the stupid government spent so much on made him sick, “Tryna catch the cat that’s been stealing shit from all around the world, you donut!”

One of the security guards looked at the missing artefacts and looked back at Hobie.

Hobie scoffed, “I knew you man were racist, but you’re really gonna accuse a black man for stealing these fucking jewels that don’t even belong to that bloke in the castle?!”

The security men didn’t know what to think, looking at each other to answer spiderman. They didn’t even know spiderman was black! “N-No! I would never-”

“Shut up, just shut up.” Under his mask, Hobie smirked. He webbed up to the ceiling, leaving the security guards gobsmacked. “If I ever see you again, it’s wraps, understand?”

They all nod.

“Wasteman…” he muttered, before chasing after you.

You ran along London rooftops, your movements a little slow due to the heaviness of your bag. This stealing shit was tiring, you hoped once you sold the jewels, you’d be able to live comfortably for the rest of your life.

After a few more leaps, you rested on the top of the shard, overlooking London and it’s nightlife. From here, you could see Leicester square and almost smell the food. You sighed, taking in the city.

Dreams of getting rich might’ve blinded your vision, but the rush feels exhilarating.

“You dropped this..” You turn around seeing Hobie, without his mask. He held a shiny ruby in between his fingers. “Come get it, kitty.”

You rolled your eyes at his banter and stood, walking towards him. As much as you tried to get him out of your head, his smile alone sent thousands of butterflies to your stomach. “Why are you following me so much, hm? Thought your big bad boss made it clear there’s a Gwen Stacy here that you have to be with-”

“And when have I ever listened to him?” He steps closer, placing the ruby in your hand. You watched him as he carefully removed your mask from your face, finally seeing your face.

You recall the time when he told you about this Gwen Stacy and how Miguel clearly expressed his disappointment that someone as smart as Hobie would ruin the multiverse due to his selfishness and some ‘petty thief’. As much as you understood all this about canon events and the multiverses, you loved Hobie too much to let him go to that fashion designer, Gwen Stacy.

However, after a lot of thinking, you decided it was best if you left him, not wanting him to face any problems with Miguel.

But, you miss him. You miss the smell of his cigarettes, the sound of his guitar, the feel of his naked skin pressed against yours.

It was for the best.

“Hobie, go away.” You try to snatch your back from him but he moved his arm above your head. His smile deepens as you cross your arms, looking up at you.

God, he missed you.

“Me and Gwen? It’s like watching paint dry. It’s boring. And most importantly, she’s not you!” His callous hands stroke your cheek, has he ever been this soft? “All I want is you.”

“You can’t have me. Miguel will have your head-” “Let him have it!” Hobie exclaims, as if that is a reasonable answer. You curse under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Hobie chuckles slightly because he knows you, and he knows his love for you. But when he sees you look at him sternly, all smiles stop.

“Why can’t you just understand that I want you to be safe, fuckin idiot..” You sigh. Hobie sighs too, but out of frustration. The two of you were like immovable object meets unstoppable force. Both as stubborn as each other.

He grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours. You cringe slightly at the feeling of his eyebrow piercing but look into his eyes anyway, “Fuck Miguel. I’m safe with you, I want you.”

Bastard, you thought before planting a kiss on his lips. He held you tightly, gripping onto your hip before deepening the kiss. Hobie’s kisses are something you’ve missed, especially the horny, sloppy kisses like the one you share now.

His hands search for a zip or any easy way to undress you as remove his punkish denim jacket. The feeling of you two undressing each other whilst standing on top of a tower is inexplicable. All you want right now is him, all of him.

He finally finds the zip to your suit and he marvels at the reveal of your chest, it almost makes him stain his trousers. It also didn’t help that you were wearing only your panties underneath.

Hobie would pay thousands, millions if he could see you dressed in nothing but the many jewellery you stole.

You’re just so badass.

“Lay…down..” He whispered in between kisses. You did as he said and lowered yourself to the floor. You stay mindful of your bag of opulence, trying not to knock it off the tower and bash someones head in.

He follows you down, not breaking his steamy kiss. By now, you both are half naked, staring at each other with nothing but pure ecstasy. “Ya gonna let me make you feel good?”

Whilst Hobie males you feel oh so good, you decide it’s time to make him feel just as good. You flip him over and straddle his crotch, staring down at your ex.

No, your boyfriend.

Hobie was already hard just by looking at you, but you grinding on his lap and leaving wet kisses on his torso may send him to a whole different dimension.

You let your fingers travel until you find the hem of his boxers, batting your lashes at him when you pull them down.

Now, Hobie was huge, you know this, but after months of your short lived ‘break up’ you truly forgot how big he felt inside you.

“F-fuckin hell..”, He groans, you figure he must’ve forgotten how good your gummy walls feel when he thrusts up into you. You instantly feel his hands grip onto your hips, rocking you back n’ forth while he feels you nipping at his ear. “Fuck sake, Y/N.”

After a few small movements, you begin to ride him. Your ass bounces off his pelvis as you moan in satisfaction. Hobie looks at you as if you were an angel, but then he sees your claws scratching his chest and he realises you are anything but.

“I missed this..”, You breathed, trying to uphold your dominant side. But it felt too good. “I missed you..”

You’re achingly close to your orgasm just when Hobie flips you around on your back. He looks beautiful with the stars behind him. “Missed you too, kitty.”

Wet, breathless kisses are left on your breasts as if Hobie wants to take you all in just incase something happens. You feel his cock slide inside you again as he whispers into your ear, “You’re so fuckin tight.”

His thrusts speed up as he builds up that sensation again, he wants to decorate your insides with his cum and there’s nothing you want more but for him to do so.

If anyone walked onto the roof and saw the sight of Spiderman fucking the Black Cat so roughly, they’d either faint or run to the newspaper agencies, claiming insanities. But, you wouldn’t mind if someone caught the two of you.

I mean, by the way you’re moaning, you must want someone to find you.

“I’m gonna…cum..” You mewled, gripping onto Hobie’s arms He closed your open mouth with a kiss, letting your moans fall onto his tongue. “Hobiee…fuck!”

“Wait f’ me…I’m so close, babe!” He nipped at your neck as you moaned for the whole city to hear. “Fuckin shit!”

With one more thrust, both of you shook as you climaxed, Hobie kissing your forehead repeatedly. The moans were gone, and replaced with panting. You quickly found your panties and suit and dressed yourself.

You heard Hobie whistle, then chuckle, “Got to do that more often, love.”

“We can after we take this to your place. I’m fuckin freezing, I need hot chocolate!”

“The way I make it?”

You look at his cocky smile, “Duh?”

BONUS:

The next morning, you find yourself clad in Hobie’s Sex Pistol tee, sipping hot chocolate opposite Hobie who’s leaning in his chair, tickling his guitar strings.

“What are your plans for today?” You ask, resting your head on your hand.

“Nuffin..” He sighs as he concocts a new melody with his instrument. “You?”

“Nuffin..”, You sip your drink once more and stare off to the distance.

There is a gentle moment of silence before a blue hexagon appears in Hobie’s living room. You look at Hobie in confusion, why would his spider society choose to come this early?

From the portal, Gwen and a brown haired man holding a ginger haired baby walk in. You’ve met Gwen a couple of time but not the middle aged man.

“Hobie, we need your help with this spiderman called Miles- WOAH!” The man spoke before notcing you, someone he’s never seen before, in Hobies apartment, in Hobies shirts.

“Uhhh…Hobie, there’s somebody in your-” “Peter..” Hobie began, before taking the baby from Peter.

“That ain’t somebody..” He gave you the baby in his hands.

The cute baby looked up at you curiously as you smiled down at her.

“That’s my gyal.”

im not really a nanami girl but i do think he embodies the idea of “if i loved you less, i might be able to talk about it more,” because while he feels love in such an all consuming way - he never communicates it verbally. he just squeezes your hand so many times and hopes you squeeze it back. each time you do he’s always trying to convince himself that its enough. he thinks in a different life, he’d try less hard at that. but every minute, every moment is a blessing. so it has to be enough.

he loves so hard he can only lean into it. otherwise he’ll lose his footing and crash.

: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

HOBIE BROWN X BURNT OUT READER

Summary: Reader is overworking themselves, Hobie helps them out! (romantically implied)

Warnings: Forgetting to eat, almost fainting, my sleep-deprived grammar, oh and cursing

A/N: (totally not projecting right now how am I still in school. fucking finals... UGH!!)

Wordcount: 928 words

You continued to type on your laptop, vigorously working the paper your English teacher thought would be a good idea to assign a week before final exams.

There was still some homework to catch up on, pages of mindless busywork to jot out. Even yet there were still study guides to fill out and memorize, and did you end up finishing that project on-

Your train of thought was broken off by the sound of your bedroom window being slid open. The culprit looked up at you before closing the window behind him.

"Hey," Hobie greeted, walking over and leaning against your desk.

You moved some of the papers scattered on your desk out of his way, before continuing to type down your thesis statement.

"No 'hey' back today?" he smirked, tilting his head.

"Yeah, no, yeah, hey Hobie." you muttered, bowed over your laptop.

"When'd this all happen?" he gesturing to the stacks of papers on your desk.

"When all my teachers simultaneously decided to be fucking cunts."

He chuckled, sitting down on your bed. For the past while Hobie had been coming over to visit you, the both of you keeping each other company from time to time.

It was like he could sense when you were neglecting yourself at this point, always coming at the most opportune times.

"You seem pretty stressed, when's the last time you've taken a break?"

"A break? Sorry, but have you seen what I have left to do here?" you gestured, exasperated.

"I take that as a no for break-taking."

"Nope." you sighed, flipping through your notes.

"You at least eat something earlier?" he asked questioningly.

"Yeah, sure, yeah." you waved him away, reading through highlighted bullet points.

"Alright then." he shrugged, holding his hands up in surrender.

A couple hours past, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence with one another. You could faintly hear heavy guitar emitting from his phone, and the sound of him chuckling at whatever he was scrolling through. You could just imagine how his face looked when he smiled, the way the corners of his mouth would slant upwards into that arrogantly smug grin that just fit him so well, his lip piercing shifting ever so slightly when he-

"Doin alright?" Hobie looked over at you, "Ya kinda spaced out for a bit."

You looked up at Hobie, and then back down at the blinking cursor on your screen, the last edit made 11 minutes ago.

"Shit."

"Think its bout time you took a break." Hobie sat up, looking at you with concern.

Your brain finally caught up to the conversation. "Huh? No, I'm good, I'm good, sorry."

"Don't apologize." He said, getting up and leaning against your desk once again. "Its been awhile, lets go grab something to eat."

You looked back down at your paper, not nearly as close to done as you had wanted. "I can't, not right now... I'm almost finished it though!" You smiled tiredly, trying to hype yourself up for the remainder of the work left.

Hobie looked over at you, the piles of homework on your desk, and then back at you, before closing your laptop shut.

"Hey!-"

"Nope. C'mon, you're takin a break." he deadpanned, serious.

You were about to retaliate once more before he shot you a glare. You knew if you didn't stop now, he'd end up dragging you away from your desk. Or even worse, keep your laptop hostage. You shuddered at the thought, before you saw movement beside you.

Hobie held out a hand for you to grab, looking down at you from where he stood. The light in your room bounced off him, his metal studs and pins shining in the light.

You grabbed his hand, allowing him to help pull you up. Spots dotted their way into your vision as you stood, feeling the world spin around you. When was the last time you ate? You gripped onto his hand tighter, waiting for the lightheaded feeling to pass.

"You good?" He looked down at you, faux uncaringness hiding the worry across his face.

"Mhm, yup, all good, perfect, just feel like fainting, gimmie a sec."

He continued to hold you up as you supported your weight against him. It was warm, comforting almost if you could ignore the sickly feeling in your stomach.

You were glad your body granted you the ability to see once more, blinking at your surroundings, only to be met with Hobie, having leaned down to look at you. His sharp dark eyes were laced with concern as they looked into yours.

"Shit, have you not eaten yet today?"

Thinking about it now, you couldn't quite recall when you last ate, but you couldn't quite remember much of anything staring into his eyes. You saw them soften before you, before he stood up straight again.

"Fucks sake, c'mon, lets go." Hobie rolled his eyes, putting one of your arms around his shoulders, holding you upright.

"Where we going?" You asked, feeling confident enough to stand on your own, but not wanting to pull away from his warm touch.

"Food joint. Someone smart as you'd think eating's a bright idea, no?" He chuckled, leading you through your bedroom door.

"Not taking the window this time?" you joked, giggling. He had always entered and exited your apartment through the windows, no matter how many times you've asked him to use the front door.

A smile pulled across his face, "Yeah, yeah, shuddup."

The two of you laughed, holding onto him as you left behind your homework.

A/N: (lets see if i have the mental capacity to keep posting!!! remember to eat and drink water!)

bathtime nanami kento, jjk kento's first time giving his baby girl a bath

s/fw, wc1200. family fluff, domestic fluff, skinship, slice of life -amma means mama - baby’s name is hana, yuji and sukuna are twins - this is the bath 'tub' how cute is that! - barely edited and really casually written but in response to this ask

Nanami smiles as he positions his daughter on his forearm, her little face turned into his chest as he carefully pulls her onesie over her head. She fusses a little, frown forming and brow creasing in a way that reminds him of you. He just barely resists the urge to call you to come and see, remembering that you’re napping with the boys as he quickly drops her diaper in the genie and slips from Hana’s room to the kitchen.

“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he murmurs, testing the water temperature with his fingertips. He draws his wet fingers down her arms before maneuvering her into the flower positioned on one side of the sink. “Just a little bath. You trust Papa to get it right by himself, right?”

Hana only stares at him, the ghost of a smile on her lips, and he feels his heartbeat pick up as he attempts to make quick work of it: turning the faucet on over the other side of the sink and testing the temperature a second and third time before letting it run over her wash cloth and settling it over her body. She fidgets a little, dark eyes focused totally on him as though to make sure that everything is ok. “Yeah,” he says, voice steady and reassuring. “We can do it ourselves, right?

“It’s ok,” he reassures her once she starts to get fussy. “It’s okay to be nervous. You’re used to Amma’s beautiful face during this and now you’ve only got this guy to deal with,” he chuckles as she continues to watch him, the weariness of her expression more amusing than anything else as he leans her forward to wash her back.

“It’s ok, Hana,” he comforts as she grows fussier. “Papa’s always gonna protect you. And we’re nearly done.” He lets her lean back into one of the petals and bends forward to brush a kiss to her hairline. “I promise.

“And we’ll be quick. Your brothers’ don’t like baths so we’re good at quick. See? Just gotta get these rolls,” he smiles and she smiles back, eyes still focused on him. “Amma’s favorite part right? To go num num num num num” -he pinches at her, laughing as she kicks her tiny feet- “Gotta make sure they’re nice and clean for her.”

“Papa?”

He doesn’t glance over his shoulder as he says, “Hey, Su.”

“You’re givin’ Hana a bath without Amma?”

Nanami chuckles as Sukuna pushes his stepping stool up to the counter. “Your brother has no faith in us, Hana.”

“‘M just askin,’” Sukuna says as he steps up next to Nanami. “She’s so fat.”

“You were a pretty fat baby, too…couldn’t sleep?”

“Yuji farted and it smelt so bad I woke up. Can I touch her?”

“Wash your hands for me first,” Nanami says, still smiling as he turns the faucet back on over the second sink. “We’re nearly done, aren’t we, sweetheart? We’re all nice and clean.”

“Hana’s not sweetheart,” Sukuna says as he dutifully washes his hands, his little body pressed flush against the counter to reach the soap. “She’s ‘sleep.”

“Amma is pretty good at sharing- come, move your step in front of me. You can help rinse her off.”

“I guess she is,” he says as he dries his hands and does as told. “Hi, Hana,” Sukuna says as he attempts to get closer to her. “It’s me, Sukuna.”

“She can see better now, remember? She’s old enough.”

“Yeah. She’s so soft,” He pokes at some of her rolls as Nanami finishes up her bath. “Like Amma’s legs sometimes.”

Nanami laughs and Hana begins to fuss as the water goes tepid. “Ok, ok,” he sighs. “I know. I said quick and we’re just teasing you.”

“Nooo,” Sukuna says. He shakes his head as some water drops on him when Hana gets lifted from her bath and wrapped in a towel. “We aren’t teasin,’ Papa. I wouldn’t be mean to baby Hana. I protek her. Like you and Amma.”

“That’s good,” Nanami murmurs, holding her close as he follows Sukuna to her room. “But, gentle teasing is ok. Even with Hana. Just don’t be cruel.”

He smiles as she cuddles into him, feeling his face go hot as Sukuna’s words settle over him. The idea of having enough of an impact to allow them to feel safe and want to protect that leaves him feeling more like a parent than he ever has. It feels a lot like his chest has opened up, bloomed with emotion in the most wonderful of ways. “She’s lucky to have you, Sukuna.”

He attempts to hide a smile as Nanami lays Hana on the changing table.

“Would you grab a diaper for her- Thank you. Can you pick out a hat and some socks, too?”

“No clothes?” Sukuna incredulously asks as he opens a drawer.

“Nah,” Nanami says as he quickly lotions his daughter. “We’re going to lay on the couch for a bit. Wanna join us?”

“Can we watch Wild Kratts?” He asks, yawning as he makes his way back over.

“Of course.”

Sukuna hands Nanami the socks and hat one by one, rushing out of the bedroom once she’s dressed. Nanami takes a few seconds to kiss her up, offering her a few soft, reassuring words before following after his eldest son. The show is already on once he makes it to the living room and he sits down with a quiet sigh, secretly hoping Sukuna will fall back asleep once he joins him on the couch.

He pulls off his shirt as he leans back, letting Hana lay with her chest to his once he’s kicked his feet up. “Su,” he says as he lays his warm shirt over her back, “don’t stand in front of the television like that. Come and join us instead.”

Sukuna makes his way over, stumbling as his eyes don’t leave the screen.

“Grab the blanket. And watch your step.”

Sukuna sighs, eyes lighting up once he looks at Nanami laying on the couch. He tugs his shirt off, too, laying it on top of Nanami’s and tucking them around Hana before grabbing the blanket from the other end of the couch and climbing up. “Is she sleeping already?”

“Not yet,” Nanami says softly, opening his arm for Sukuna to cuddle in next to him. “Come. Lay between me and the cushions- ah, thank you for spreading the blanket, Su. We’ll be nice and cozy because of you.”

He messily maneuvers to kiss Hana’s cheek, attempting to gently run his finger down the bridge of her nose the way you do when you kiss them before bed. “Have a good nap, lil’ baby Hana,” he whispers, causing Nanami to smile fondly.

“Hey” -Sukuna looks at him expectantly and Nanami pulls him in to kiss his forehead- “good job, bud.”

He smiles proudly, his morose features softening as he snuggles in next to Nanami. “You, too, Papamin. She barely even cried.”

“Is that the standard for my care?” He teases, hands settling on both of their backs to keep them safe and secure as they all relax. “I guess I need to do better, huh- gah! Sukuna. Your feet are cold-”

⋆hobie loves his angel.⋆

-fem!reader. slight nsfw. mdni.-

she scoffs when he calls her that, of course. “how can i be something holy?” she asked in jest when he called her by the name one night. “it ain’t about bein’ holy.” he had said as he wrapped his arms around her. “it’s about being worshipped.”

because she should be. by god, she should be. he wasn’t religious, but her? she made him understand why people wear crosses and carry images of saints in their pockets. of course, those same people would probably drop a bucket of holy water on his head if they knew what he thought about his angel.

like when she was walking around the room in that short little tennis skirt. or when she wore only her white lace bralette in his apartment. or when she hummed a tune. or when she looked up at him as she sucked him off. or when he pushed her back into an arch while he fucked into her from behind, her shoulder blades pushing up like angel wings. or how she sang his name like a hymn.

oh, there was a special place in hell for him, that’s for sure.

but like any institution, hobie scoffed at organized religion and said fuck off to their ideas of virtue and purity. his angel was beautiful, a work of art, worthy of all adoration. she didn’t need to be “clean” to be one.

so he pressed the word against her every chance he got. kissed into the skin of her thigh. murmured into the nape of her neck. tucked into the palm of her hand.

angel. angel. angel.

‘cause she was his angel, and he was her devoted sinner.

~just some thoughts that have been plaguing me~

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