Wstcoastcoll3ctive - Caye

❝𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞❞

hobart “hobie” brown x fem!reader

masterlist

summary: after not speaking for an extended period of time, you didn’t like the idea of ever seeing hobie again. when he shows up to your door unexpectedly, things take a turn for the better.

MINORS DNI 18+

characters: hobie brown, miguel o’hara (mentioned), gwen stacy (mentioned)

word count: 2.8k

notes: takes place around the beginning of spiderverse 2; hobie’s voice is hard to write for i tried my best; hobie is at least 18 they didnt specify in the movie but if hes not then hes aged up

warnings: established relationship (fwbs most likely but idk), reader is a spider of her own universe, hobie has a nickname for you “bug”, no use of y/n, make out, some bickering, vag fingering, hand size difference (tried to make reader as ambiguous as possible), praise, objectification (mention of being used, and being used like a toy), protected and explicit sex

You hadn’t seen him. For months you hadn’t seen him. There’s nothing you share in common anymore. Your career had taken a dramatic shift, and you’d been different ever since, exacerbating his distance. With the way things ended, you didn’t expect to see him again. 

Yet here he stands, outside your door, his hood up to protect himself from the rain. 

“Gonna let me in, bug? Or should I've brought a permission slip from the old man?” Hobie remarks, shrugging his hands in the pockets of his jean vest. Soundlessly, you step aside, and he invites himself in. He regards the entrance of your home, and that expression on his face always gives the impression he’s sizing up anything he lays his eyes on. Hobie is judgemental when it counts, but part of you is abashed that he’s about to spew nonsense condemning every artifact in your apartment. “Warm in here.” he muses, shrugging off his jacket to toss it over your coat hooks. “Smells good, what’s steamin’?” He gestures to the kitchen and after you lock your front door you return to your lunch in its pan. He checks out your ass in leggings as you pass him. 

“What are you doing here, Hobie?” you call over your shoulder from your position. Just outside of your field of vision, he slumps onto your couch. You hear every rustle of his layered clothes and mixed-media accessories. 

“Got some free time, figure I’d pop in.” he replies and you turn off the burner, having lost your appetite. “How’s it been since you got kicked?” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Fair ‘nough.” 

You exit, leaning against the doorway to the living room. Hobie looks over the back of the couch to gaze at you. His piercings glint in the soft lamp light and the rain outside picks up.  

An uncomfortable silence falls, and you avert your eyes to avoid how his bore into you. Quickly, you think up a question so you don’t suffocate. “So, what’s been going on with you? Anything new?” Is there a reason for your unannounced visit?

“Not much, to be honest,” he sighs, folding his leg to rest his ankle on his knee. He messes with the lace of his boot to fidget. “Gwendy’s got nowhere to go so she’s crashin’ at my place. Didn’t feel like goin’ ‘ome so I’m here.” 

You’d heard of Gwen back when Hobie’d first befriended her. Smart kid, tragic story. 

His charitable act softens you, and you round the couch. “That’s nice of you.” You relax, and sit at the armrest, as far from him as you can afford. 

“Why so far away? C’mon, I won’t bite,” he jokes, falling into that old familiarity that he's so susceptible to. His arm raises over his head, fanning out behind you, his fingers picking at your hoodie to capture your attention. 

You cock your head in his direction, a wry smile on your lips. “Don’t tell me you think everything’s fine after what happened.” 

In response, he’s taken aback, but his hand remains. “It’s been a while, bug, I know, it’s not like I meant to not see you. Got… swept up.” his tone of voice heightens with his excuses, “I’m not from around here, you get that, can’t show up just ‘cause I feel it.” You pivot your body towards him, tucking your legs to the side. 

“Yeah, but you operate that way with everything else.” you interject, “If you wanted to see me, you would’ve.” 

A knowing grin stretches onto his face, so handsome when he tries, hooking you with his surly attitude and reeling you in with his charm. “Ah, that’s not fair, love,” 

In an attempt to steel yourself, you cross your arms, and force the next words out. “I’m not trying to be.” 

Hobie purses his lips, and his eyes trail down your figure. “Yeah, I missed you, bug.” 

“Nicknames are reserved for friends.” 

He lulls his head to the side, a single finger strokes down your jawline. “Good thing we ain’t friends, huh?” A tap to your chin. 

A sharp inhale, and you press your lips into a thin line. Your anger and your frustration with him are at the forefront of your mind, but the passion he instills within you comes flooding in. All of those late night encounters, tangled in each other until well into the morning hours, hopping into each other’s universes just so you didn’t have to say goodbye for too long. 

You’d gotten kicked from the force— you couldn’t blame Miguel for his decision— but ever since, you and Hobie’s relationship had faded out. You missed him… terribly. It’s not like you’d promised yourself to each other, but you have yet to get over him. Maybe this is the way to do it? 

“No, no we’re not.” you concede, and you lean in. Your lips brush his, soft and slow, letting him accept you by meeting you. Mouths press together, parting each other to explore what was once so greedily devoured. This time it’s gentle, intimate, and careful. Tongues slide together, how he circles the tip of yours makes you shiver.

He speaks against you, “Knew you’d open right up to me, love,” You can hear his arrogance, and you fist his vest, drawing him back to you so you can shut him up. 

The energy shifts, desperation roots, and while you pull him to you, he maneuvers to hover over you. Successfully getting you on your back has never been a problem for him, and he uses his free hands to wander what he could not touch for so long. His thumbs graze the sides of your chest, and he handles your waist while he plunges his tongue deeper, eager to taste whatever he’s offered. A noise of surprise emits from you and he retracts to fix your legs for you. Your knees at his hips as he kneels in between them.

“Don’t be a jerk.” you breathe, and he scoffs. 

“Take your clothes off.” he tells you as he rips off his vest to throw it to the floor. 

“If you think this isn’t just a lucky, one-time only—“ you warn him while you do exactly as he’s asked: pulling your hoodie and shirt up and over, hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your yoga pants to tug them down. Hobie helps you by yanking them off, now shirtless and impatient. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, collapsing onto you to bury his nose in your neck, nuzzling the skin to plant a trail of kisses. “You smell good… is that the perfume I bought you?” It’s emphasized with his teeth scraping against you, biting down onto your pulse point. You writhe underneath him. 

“So what if it is?” Your hands find their home on his shoulders, clawing him as he sucks onto you, and licks his marks. 

He hums, his hips pressing into yours until you feel the outline of his hardening length against your panties. “You’re mad at me, would’a figured you’d tossed it.” His hand traverses you, massaging your chest, rolling your nip between his fingers. He’d kept his cuffs on, and you rolled your eyes. 

The response you’re mustering died on your lips when Hobie latches his mouth onto your nipple, enveloping as much flesh as he can while his tongue reintroduces itself to your nub. Warm and wet, rolling it, and you whine. Your hips stutter, seeking out any friction as he works, both buds occupied by either his hand or his mouth, and he obliges you. His hand abandons you, only to shift for more room and palm your mound. The heel of his gloved hand grinds into your clit, granting you a fleeting sense of relief until you require more. 

“Already wet, huh? Can feel it through your thong,” his breath against his spit on your skin makes you shudder, and your patience wears thin. 

“Can you just do something already? Fuck,” You blindly reach for his studded belt, unbuckling it but Hobie’s deft fingers begin toying with your folds in a way that paralyzes you, halts you from any conquest because of how long it’s been since you’ve been touched. You exhale, and he holds your gaze as he draws your panties aside. A pinky finger swipes up your sex, collecting your arousal on the tip. 

“I’m doin’ it. Chill a second, yeah?” he tells you, and your cheeks burn red. “All this for a little kissing. Makes you wonder when’s the last time you got some.” He’s making fun of you, and your hips chase his touch instinctively. The pads of his fingers gather your essence to lube up your neglected clit, settling into a rhythm as he places sweet kisses wherever he can reach. Your tits, upper chest, and neck. He’s teasing you. 

“Are you trying to get me to beg?” you ask, exasperated and horny. 

He flashes a downturn of his lips, and dips down to lick the salty sweat off your skin. “Couldn’t hurt.” 

“Hobie,” 

“There it is. There’s my name out that pretty mouth,” 

“I told you not to be a jerk.”

Hobie regards you with a tilt of his head. “Suit yourself.” He brings his hand up so he can undo the cuff, tugging off the fingerless glove. Your stomach flips at the sight, a forefront as to what’s to come. Once he returns, his tact disappears; out of spite he dives not one, but two fingers into your hole. A stretch that stings causes you to hiss. “S’what you wanted, right?” The devious curl of his lips let you know he’s not going to make this easy for you. They remain rooted inside you to the hilt, and you lick your own digits to massage your clit yourself, loosening yourself. “Oh, I get a show too,” he muses and you wish you could shove him off of you. The fact is, this is an opportunity you can’t pass up. No one can do it like Hobie. Your sex drools around him, and he thrusts his fingers in tandem with your rocking. His hand is big, which reaches spots inside you you’ve never been able to find on your own. “That’s it, girl, just like that,” he praises, watching your hole suck his fingers up so greedily. When it’s not enough, he adds another one of his, and flicks your limb off so he can taste your clit with his tongue. 

You cry out. Three fingers and your eyes are rolling into the back of your head, chasing your high as he sucks your clit into his mouth. That coil in your belly tightening with each rock, and your walls clench around him, signaling your impending release. 

Hobie doesn’t dare speak a word, opting to watch you as you go through the cycle of an orgasm. Your toes curling, legs shaking, tensing up as he maintains the pace for you, until it washes over you and he slows to a stop. 

You drop your head against the armrest of the couch, staring at the ceiling as euphoria simmers within you, breathing hard. “Fuck.” Gingerly, he expels his hand from you, coated in your finish, and promptly sucks it off while it’s still warm. Your taste is something he never gets tired of. 

“You think you’re ready for me, bug? I’m aching over here,” he speaks while you listen to the shuffle of his jeans. Undoing them to tug them down. A thrills jolts you, and you beat him to the waistband of his boxers, scraping him with your nails when you yank them down so readily. His cock, hard and long, springs free and greets you leaking with pre-cum. An endearing patch of dark pubic hair at the base, like he trimmed for you in anticipation for this visit. 

“Did you expect this?” you inquire playfully, and he gives you a look, following your eye line to answer his mental question. 

“Just in case. Trying to be polite, is all.” he justifies and you snicker as he undresses your panties from you for a better range of motion. “C’mere, darlin’, let me have a look at’cha,” Words emphasized by the way he manhandles you, directing your limbs for you until you’re bent over in front of him on all fours. “Fucking missed this,” 

Involuntarily, a whimper spills from you. You’re obsessed with his voice, enchanted with the way he talks about you even if it’s foul. “Are you gonna stare or are you gonna fuck me?”

“My, you’re cheeky tonight.” he replies while he fishes a condom out of his jeans pocket. You listen to the familiar crackling of the wrapper, and the latex as he rolls it onto him. He gives himself a few pumps, and guides his cock to your entrance, easing it inside ever so slightly. Inching himself in to let you adjust. “Fuck, almost forgot how good you feel,” 

You forgot how big he is, surging forward until your cheek meets the armrest of the couch. “Easy, Hobie, easy,” 

“I’m trying,” By the strain of his voice, he’s telling the truth. “You’re sucking me up, love, she knows what she wants.” Your sex did have a way of drawing him in, and he had a way of referring to it with a pronoun. It does the trick, slickening you up, and he sinks in until he can bottom out. 

Finally, you’re filled— to the brim. The two of you bask in it a second, and he rests his hand on your tailbone. He leans back until the lip of his head catches on you, and settles back in. He bites his bottom lip, the metal of his piercing against his teeth as he quickens his pace to set a steady rhythm. Every cell in his body is already screaming after being inside you once again. He’s fantasized about it nearly everyday. Pondering his desperation, how he craved you for those months, adds to his restlessness. His palm on your tailbone pushes you back onto his cock, making you meet his thrusts. 

You’re practically liquid, allowing him to do what he pleases with you just to hear those heavenly groans spill from his throat. Once you’re able, you rock back, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix each time. 

“You feel that? I’m right there… at the end of you. Oh, fuck,” he simpers, palming your hips so he can control your movements. “You have the most amazing ass,” he praises in awe, watching the way your flesh ripples each time you make contact with his thighs. 

“Hobie, fuck me,” you whine, and he can’t refuse you. He seeks out your arms, snatching up your wrists to stretch them out behind you, your back arches from the position. Impossibly faster, he rails you and your head bobs as he uses your own body as leverage. Your jaw drops, every unintelligible noise bubbling up from inside you as pleasure courses through you at being used like a toy. 

He keeps his concentration where it ought to be: fucking you senseless. Ramming into you over and over again, listening to the symphony of sounds your conjoined bodies make. The wet, squelching noises that come with fucking your hole still full of your own cum. It drips down your legs. 

Attentively, he puts one of your arms down so he can free his hand up, bending over you until your hot skins are pressed against each other. He winds an arm around you, finding your clit to play with while he screws you. You rest your cheek onto the couch cushion, relaxing under his touch, and that coil in your belly tightens again. “You gonna cum for me again, princess?” he says against your ear, nipping at the lobe. 

You can’t even speak, whining your affirmations and nodding your head into the fabric. 

“Go on, let me feel it,” 

His permission opens the gates, and your walls flutter around him as you release. How you constrict makes his movements stutter, squeezing him in all the right places as your essence accumulates at the base of his cock. He twitches inside you, thick ropes of his cum spurts and paints his condom; a powerful shudder courses through him. Stammering to a halt, he rests his forehead against your shoulder as he basks in the feeling. For a second, you two just catch your breath together, until he unsheathes. “Can’t believe how much I love shagging you.” 

You wish you could do it more often. All the time, in fact, but it’s not something you can admit to him. So you hum in confirmation as he takes off his condom, and ties it off. 

“I’ll make it a point to visit.” Hobie promises, his hands tucked into his vest pockets. 

“Don’t push it, Brown, you were lucky this time.” 

He scoffs and glances away before wrapping you with an arm, drawing you into him to peck your forehead. “Yeah, well, I’m sure I’ll get lucky next time.” His cockiness makes you push him off playfully. His other hand pulls out the thong you were wearing earlier from his pocket. “So, I’ll keep these, then?” 

hobie brown x photographer!reader

this is almost entirely self indulgent, because i’m a huge camera nerd, sorry everyone!

warnings: gets verryyy suggestive towards the end, that’s all, sorry folks :P

just thinking about hobie in love with a reader who's obsessed with cameras & photography. maybe you studied it at school/college, or freelance, or maybe just a bit of a camera nerd. bedroom shelves housing all types of cameras, cheap or expensive, film or digital, any and every type.

maybe reader isn't too confident in front of the lens, and hobie is just so goddamn photogenic, even when he doesn't mean to be. "wait, hobie, can you do that again?" whilst bringing the camera to your eye, waiting for hobie to move back into the position he'd been in on the couch, "lookin' pretty, love?" and you hum in response, "mhmm", the camera clicks.

polaroids of him in the back of your phone case, prints of you in his. he'd caught you off guard once, laying on top of him in your bed, slipping in and out of slumber as his large, calloused hand rubs circles along your spine. looking down at you through his eyelashes, a stream of light from the closed curtains fell across your face. reaching to a discarded film camera on your bedside table, he placed a kiss onto your forehead and snapped a picture. after you got it developed, he stole it from you, taping it to the front and center of his guitar, so he can see it whenever he played.

walking through the streets of london, you stopped and stared at the window of a vintage camera store with pure adoration in your eyes. "hobie! hobie, look, it's my dream camera." he stuffed his hands in his pockets and joined you, "is it, darlin'?" and you nodded, hands pressed against the glass, "well, we better get it then, huh?"

he'd constantly come home with pockets full of fresh film or new lenses that he'd nicked during the day. even if he didn't understand or share the same passion, he'd be your number one supporter, bending over backwards to help in anyway he can. swinging you to the highest buildings and nicest views to get a good shot, playing up to the camera whilst you shot him performing one evening at a local pub. he was your muse, and you his.

just the thought of him slowly nuzzling you out of your shell in front of the camera, because you couldn’t deny the photos he took of you were artistically excellent, and you had an eye for it all. you’re straddling his lap, innocently, and he’s laying with his head on your pillow. one of his hands is on your thigh, the other holding a cheap film camera to his eye.

“just pose for me, beautiful,” he’s showing his teeth as he smiles, “hobie, no—” you try and push the camera away, but he insists, “please?” and there’s a second you consider it, before refusing once again. within a second, his hand has come up to your chin, taking it between his fingers and running his thumb over your lips to shut you up. you melt to his touch instantly, and when he’s caught your eyes fluttering and smile forming, he snaps a picture. “perfect.”

he comes along to all your exhibitions. bringing his band mates, or pav, gwen, and miles, to see your photography hung up. as much as he hates money, and spending it, he always buys at least 8 copies, just to see the explosive smile on your face when you see someone’s bought your work.

his chin would sit on your shoulder, watching you work away at your laptop as you edit photos. he doesn’t understand any of it, but he loves to see you work. he kisses down your neck, shoulders, rubbing shapes into your hips and thighs as you edit away, mumbling a complaint anytime he tries distracting you, “concentrate, love, you got this,” he mutters as he begins to kiss you particularly low, in a particularly sweet spot, hands slipping below the desk, “doing so well, pretty.”

head over heels for this man

: ̗̀➛ 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!!!

making out with hobie brown

warnings: just a tiny bit suggestive, reader's gender is not specified.

hobie brown (spider-punk) x reader

that's just his favorite activity to pass the time when you two are chilling.

after a show, after a shower, after a spider mission. any time you're within his reach, really.

you are cuddled up to hobie on his bed, listening to music and distractedly playing with the bracelets on his wrist. your eyes move from the various posters on the walls to hobie's closed eyes, his breathing calm and controlled.

the arm that was holding you tightens around your waist, feeling your gaze on him.

"do you enjoy admiring me, love?" hobie says with a tinge of humor in his voice and opens his eyes slowly, scanning your flustered face. you smile, nodding your head that was resting on his chest.

"give me a kiss to prove it then." hobie lets his teeth show in an amused smile, his plump lips pouting until you come closer.

your lips hovered over his, touching lightly without any real contact. you always did this until hobie got impatient and put his hand on the nape of your neck, the icy chill of the rings bringing goosebumps to your skin.

at first, it's always a tender kiss, enjoying the sensation of your lips on his. his lip piercing presses against your skin in a pleasurable way, the short nails marking you enough to make you reciprocate by holding hobie's arm.

one peck turns into several, his mouth leaving yours to kiss your cheeks and behind your ears in light smacks, the hand on your nape going to your neck in a natural transition.

his lips meet yours again, and the hand that was on your waist manhandles you until you are sitting on his lap. your hands take place on his chest to seek balance as his tongue seeks yours, a sigh leaving hobie's lips as you reciprocate, moving your mouth in a lazy rhythm.

the fingers on your neck apply pressure as the kiss quickens, you whine and press your body into his, hobie could feel you warm on top of him.

hobie moves to your thighs, feeling and squeezing where he can, wet noises mix with the background music and your head starts to spin with the sensations. you have to grab hobie's shirt under your fingers so you don't get lost.

you break the kiss for a few seconds to recover, hobie's eyes immediately meet yours in a reaction you already know, he wanted to know if everything was okay. you run your tongue over your lips to clean the trace of saliva that kept the two of you connected, smiling.

"didn't you say it was just one kiss?" a breathless giggle leaves your lips, he laughs with you and kisses your cheek, stroking your knee teasingly.

"what do you mean, baby? we're not doing anything, I haven't even kissed you yet." he joked, stealing another kiss from you, not resisting your flushed face and swollen lips.

"oh, really? you haven't even touched me, have you?" you played along. hobie moves his hand down from your neck and caresses your back, playing with the piercing in his lip with his teeth.

"of course not," he whispers, his smile fading only to reattach his lips to yours.

high sex with hobie plssss

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

thank you for the req anon!

hobie x gn!reader smut

masterlist ミ☆

took me a minute to find my footing with this but quickly found inspiration from the song 'Slow Motion' by Duckwrth. I know it ain't punk but- who cares? Inspo is inspo like, do you want the smut or not?? /j /lh

1.1k words :: gn!reader :: estab relationship :: an’ ofc some drug use lol :: kinda proof read :: sub!hobie

!! minors/ageless blogs, I ask that you do not interact as I check my notes daily and will block you from my blog entirely if I see you, thank you.

smut below the cut, you have been warned ་ ༌ ༶

ミ☆ ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You were laying on your bed with your partner, shoulder to shoulder passing a joint back and forth. The open window to your bedroom blew in cool August air that prickled goosebumps on your exposed skin.

With every drag you felt your anxieties ease, humming as you let yourself sink further into the mattress, eyes closing in contentment. You feel the bed creak a little as Hobie readjusts himself.

“I can feel you staring at me,” you muse. Eyes still shut, you hear Hobie clear his throat before taking another hit of the spliff, you twitch slightly at the soft crackle it makes.

“M’not,” he says, sitting up so he could blow the weed smoke into your face, making you both giggle.

You swat at him, loosely aiming for his chest, “prick.”

He doesn’t reply.

Opening your eyes you turn to look at him. Despite the low light of your room, you’re able to make out how he gazes down at you with a look that you came to recognise as pure adoration- and a glint of something else.

“been missing you so much lately m’love,” he mutters, causing your chest to fizz at the rasp in his voice.

You missed him too, summer meant that he was busy performing at gigs across London. His schedule was already so packed protecting the city as spiderman, so with the added onslaught of performances meant that he could only spare you the occasional text. He hadn’t felt the warm familiarity of your arms for a month.

“yeah?” you grin, cheekily.

Pushing away an ache in your chest from the weight of his stare, you nimbly remove the blunt from his fingers before sitting up and reaching over to stub it out on the ashtray that sat on your bedside table.

You move to sit closer to him, hand cupping his cheek you rub your thumb over his bottom lip softly, “I missed you too Hobie”

He exhales deeply, half-lidded and leaning into your touch. Your mouth curves into a smirk when you realise he’s staring at your lips. You can’t help but lick them instinctively.

“yeah? how much did you miss me sweet’art?” He murmurs, head evidently spinning.

You roll your eyes at how he still manages to be so smug whilst melting so easily in your grasp. You decide to humour your lover- just this once.

You lean in to kiss the corner of his mouth, grazing your lips across his jawline before you leave a chaste kiss at his neck, revelling at the low gasp Hobie makes at the contact.

“c’mere,” he groans.

He snakes his arms around your waist, a hand at the small of your back as he pulls you closer to him. You kneel with your legs on either side of him, gaining as much height as possible whilst you pepper soft kisses across his face.

Pulling back, you hold the back of Hobie’s head, looking down at him fondly, skin hot to the touch. His full lips are slightly agape, warm breath fanning your face as he looks up at you with a knowing smirk.

You bite your lip, grinning down at him. You wouldn’t give him what he wanted so easily.

“y’gonna make me ask for it aren’t you?” he chuckles lowly, his large hands moving down to grope the back of your thighs gently, “such a tease, love.”

“But you’re so pretty when you beg, Bee,” you hum. Rolling his eyes at the nickname, he quickly tries to steal a kiss but you move your head out of the way before he can.

Hobie’s bottom lip protrudes, pouting jokingly.

Tutting, you lean in and kiss behind his ear, properly sinking down to sit in his lap. You sigh at how his clothed hips buck up into yours impatiently, gripping your waist.

You grind your hips into him causing his breath to hitch, you feel him hardening beneath you. He slurs your name,

“Want you kiss me,” he breathes, “need yo-“ you cut him off, kissing him languidly. That was all you needed to hear.

Tilting your head to accommodate his nose, Hobie moans into your lips. His brows knitting together as you push him to lay back into the mattress, he savours the sweet sounds that escape you- desperate to coax more out of you.

A hand travels up to the nape of your neck, tensing as you pull away for air. The sight of you hovering over him with hooded eyes, licking away the trail of spit shared between your puffed lips almost making him whimper beneath you. To say he was hard would be an understatement.

“you’re so pretty,” you both say after a moment.

Laughing warmly, you put your face in the crook of his neck before slumping on top of him- unable to stable yourself. You feel him chuckle under you, holding your hips.

You then yelp when he flips the pair of you over before you catch your breath. His forearm rests at the side of your head as his free hand begins to hike up your shirt. You gasp, twitching at the feeling of his cold hands and the metal of his rings.

He leans close to your ear, “can I show you how much I’ve missed you my love?” he murmurs. It was your turn for your head to spin.

Speechless, you nod, letting him remove your top.

Kissing your neck he nips at your jugular causing you to moan softly.

“Hobie,” you sigh.

“Show me where y’want me to touch you, help ‘Bee’ make y’feel good, yeah?” he grins, teasing.

Placing your hand atop his, you guide him to your collarbone, slowly dragging his hands over your exposed chest. He handles you like you were made of porcelain. Biting your lip as his ring delicately snags at your taut nipple, you see him smirk when you stop at your lower abdomen.

“Here,” you breathe, feeling your heart skip when he nods, biting his lip and rubbing circles into your hipbone.

He leans in once more to kiss you deeply before trailing wet kisses down where you had shown him.

He drags his tongue greedily over your nipple, back arching as he pulls on it gently between his teeth before you slump back into the mattress with a huff as he continues his ministrations down your stomach.

He giggles at you.

You roll your eyes in return.

“Dick.”

“I’m getting to it,” he quips as he unbuttons your trousers hastily. You silently curse yourself at the way your crotch pulsated at his joke, helping him discard your jeans.

You glance down to see how Hobie’s dick strained against his own as he sat up to pull his shirt off, admiring the way the soft glow of the moon outlined every contour of his gorgeous form.

Hobie kisses his teeth and throws his shirt at your head.

“It’s rude to stare, bug,” he chuckles at the expression you shoot him when you throw the shirt to the side.

You were going to kill him.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Can you tell I like leaving shit open ended? My toxic trait- I have no remorse. Not my best work but like- I think I ate? A crumb, perhaps.

Thanks again to anon for requesting this! Thank you so much for your patience doll, hope it was worth the wait.