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#hobie brown fanfiction
rexlroze · 2 days
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𝟐 — 𝐃𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Hobie Brown / SpiderPunk x Fem! Reader
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Use of Y/N, No physical description of reader other than mostly height comparison. Swearing, Mention of alcohol, drinking, vomiting, Fluff.
𝑁𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑔𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠
𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
A/N: I honestly had to rethink this over and over again so many times even though I was like half way thru the damn chapter so that's why making this took me long, also the fact I have the attention span of a child. I was really not sure about this whole thing cuz it kinda felt too sudden but hopefully, it turned out fine? for me it did tbh but like. *blink* yk? Or maybe it's just because I'm not confident in my fucking writing skills and need validation for every damn step I take<3 But anyways, I made half of the notes for this chapter during math class and the teacher caught me so that too (Spoiler Alert: I got sent to the principal's office :3) but that's besides the point. Also if some of the characters were a little OOC, I'm very sorry- I tried my best to make them as accurate as possible (some inaccurate shit tends to get on my nerve, mostly if it's produced by me) annnnd I need to stop ranting💀. I don't take requests nor do I plan on doing so in the future. Happy reading! 😉
Chapter 2 >>> Chapter 3
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Each Stroke of paint is smooth, filling the wall with a little more color than before. The bristles of the paint brush gently swipes over the wall. Music flowed into your ears and through, making you hum.
The atmosphere was calming, like nothing could ever—
“Whatcha listenin’ to?” A teasing voice appeared beside you making you jump and your shoulder tense up.
Right. You forgot he was still here. Pushing your headphones off, “a song.” You answered flatly, turning away from him, your back facing Hobie as you dipped your paint brush into the thick minty liquid that was within the metal bucket and slid the brush across the wall.
“Really? I'll have to check it out when I get home.”
You scoff at the sarcasm in his tone.
After yesterday, he helped you with a little cleaning. You thought he was probably going to dip and disappear from your life after that so when he returned the next day (today), it did surprise you a little. He's been just hanging around. You don't know why, he doesn't owe you anything. “Why are you helping me again?” You turned to him with a quirked eyebrow.
“Mate, you've asked me that like 4 times already.” 
“And each time, I haven't gotten a proper answer.”
This time, he's the one to scoff. “Is it that bad to want to just help somebody?”
“You're dodging the question again.” You say in a sing-song voice.
He holds his hands up in surrender, “aight aight. I'm just tryna help out a friend of a friend, y'know? Plus. I ain't' hurtin’ anyone, right?”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what it means, love.”
You sighed, your arm falling to your side. Your other hand coming up to pinch the bridge of your nose, “okay. I'll admit, I'm being a little… douchey.” You say, biting your lip, “But I can't say that I don't appreciate your help, and company.”
“Little's an understatement.” Hobie quipped, snickering to himself which made you throw a side glance in his direction. An innocent smile spread across his face. 
You rolled your eyes turning back to the wall to continue what you were doing. Hobie took it as a sign to pursue his side of the wall.
A small spot was left just at the top of the wall making you push yourself up on your tiptoes, trying to get to the empty white patch on top of the wall.
Hobie, who was distracted by his own work, took a glance at you when he heard a few groans of frustration. Seeing you so frustrated over such a small thing brought a small smirk to his face. He settled his brush down into the paint bucket and made his way to you, your head turning to him when you caught a glimpse of him in the corner of your eye extending his hand, beckoning for you to give him the brush you held.
You raised your eyebrow but gave in, settling the brush into his extended hand, your fingers grazing his palm before you quickly withdrew your hand to your side.
He stepped forward closer to you and the wall, making you step back away, giving him space as he took care of the last white spot on the wall. 
“Thank you,” you gave him a small smile and a nod.
“No problem.” He returned the smile. You two stood there holding eye contact. His eyes were as pretty as they were in the poster. No. Prettier. You thought, why? You didn't know. 
You quickly cleared your throat and looked away to look at your progress the two of you had made whilst he sunk the paint brush back into the depths of the mint paint after filling the small white spot with paint.
The two of you had already completed three walls, the last wall was just about half done. The only other thing left to paint was the closet, you'd get to that later.
“You wanna go get a drink?” Hobie suddenly asked, turning his head towards you, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his leather vest.
You rubbed a hand over your jaw, the thought of a break was very enticing right about now since you'd been busy for about a solid 4-5 hours. You answered after a second or two of silence. “Sure. I could use a little break.”
“Good cuz I know an awesome pub around here.”
“Lead the way.” You said extending your arm towards the door.
The two of you walked side by side, Hobie’s gaze fixed on the rock he kept kicking in front of him during your walk, yours lost in the sky that was split into hues of yellow and pink.
“So, I haven't really seen you around here before.” Hobie suddenly spoke up after his rock companion got left behind, a small pout formed on his face which disappeared as quickly as it appeared when it did but obviously he wasn't going back just to retrieve a rock.
“Just moved here about a few days ago, used to live in York with my parents.” You answered, crossing one of your arms behind your head.
“Hm.” He nodded before silence fell over the two of you again, seems neither of you knew what to say. Your eyes lingered on the sky, watching the purple mixing into the pink and orange.
This time, you decided to break the silence. “So, where are we going?” Your head turned towards him, tilting your head a little.
“It's a surprise.” He answered, shrugging his shoulders.
“It's a bar.”
“Your point?”
“I mean, how ‘exciting’ can a bar really be?” You snorted.
“Depends, you ever been in an underground pub?”
“No— say what now?” You gawked, turning to Hobie with wide eyes who just smirked and lifted his chin. When he didn't continue elaborating further, you decided to poke at the subject. “Wait, c'mon. You gotta tell me more.”
Chuckling, he let out a low whistle. “No, I don't.” 
“You can't just tell me we're going to an underground bar then shut up. Like- what if I get kidnapped or sumn?” You exaggerated, throwing your hands up in the air.
“I'll be right there beside you, love, won't even let anyone lay a hand. Good?” He proposed, playfully tilting his head a little.
“You're torturing me.” You groaned.
“Maybe that's my plan.” He shrugged, flicking invisible lint off his jacket.
“...”
“How do I know you're not the one who's trying to kidnap me?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Doesn't it seem oddly weird you just randomly appear at my parlor, offer me help and now you're taking me to a very secret underground bar.”
As Hobie heard you ramble on, he couldn't help but start to chuckle. His chuckle twisting into a flown blown laugh as you threw a playful punch in his shoulder.
“Tell me. You have trust issues or something?” He chuckled, wiping an unshed tear from his eye. “Just have a little patience. It'll be worth it, I promise. I mean, you can always go back if you’re too paranoid.”
“Hilarious.”
“I'm being serious, I can walk you back right now if you'd like.” He offered, slowing down.
Your lips parted as you thought about it for a quick second before shaking your head. “Nah, no thank you. I'm coming along.”
“Hm, suit yourself.” He shrugged looking back to the front of the street. Your footsteps falling in sync with one another once more.
Silence taking over, punctuated by the honking motorcycles and cars and the birds chirping.
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘
Twelve minutes later, the both of you stood before an abandoned 2 storey office building. It looked like it hadn't been used in decades with its cracked windows which reflected the creamy moonlight. Graffiti turned the concrete structure into a riot of colors, doodles, swear words and penises with overgrown vines that clawed their way up the sides. 
As Hobie strode towards the door, his hand inches away from pushing the door when you suddenly spoke up, “it's in there?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He said turning his head towards you, “I know it don’ look it but I promise it's on purpose. Keeps the coopers away.”
“Ehh… I don't know. I'm starting to believe the whole “you're trying to kidnap me” thing.” Skepticism traced your voice.
“Oh, c’mon. Just trust me.”
“That's what I'm scared to do.” You scoffed. “This looks like a place where serial killers would stuff their victims in.”
“Dunno, never tried digging around. Two bodies at best?” He analyzed jokingly, covering up his laugh with a cough as he saw you pale a little. 
“You're not funny.”
“Dunno ‘bout that, love.” He snickered. “You comin’?” He didn't wait for you to answer before he disappeared into the building.
You crossed your arms tapping your foot, not wanting to follow him in because of your stubbornness but something about standing alone sent chills down your spine.
I'm gonna kill him. You quickly sprinted into the office-like building following Hobie's direction, running away from something you don't even know.
You find yourself walking behind Hobie who walks up to an elevator across the room. The walls were crumbling, chairs laidon the floor, tables flipped upside down “Why the hell is this place so run down?”
“It's a meeting ground made by the government, basically all the corrupted and secret shit that they wanted no one knowing happened around here but word got out. Eventually punks started graffiting the grounds, protesting, sneaking in and eventually drove them out to who knows where. Started using it as a club and a speakeasy after cuz it was spacious grounds. Coopers don’ blink an eye towards this direction cuz they're bloody cowards.” He casually explains (leaving out the part where he whooped their asses and corrupted all their data with a chip he made as Spider-Punk but you didn't need to know that.) 
He pressed a few buttons which opened up the elevator doors. Wordlessly, he gestured to you to get in.
“And you know this how?” You lifted an eyebrow climbing into the elevator, he followed suit.
When you asked that, it brought a proud smile to Hobie's face, “I was one of the punks.” He answered nonchalantly without glancing at you, the pockets of his leather vest stuffed with his hands. The elevator door slid back together locking the both of you in.
“Of course you were,” you said it like it was one of the most obvious things in the world for which you got a little nudge in the shoulder from his elbow. He pressed a button on a small keypad beside the door making the elevator flow down.
The elevator finally stopped making a small chiming sound after what seemed like minutes but in reality. It had been barely more than 40 seconds. Guess time just slowed down when you're in the presence of awkward silence… or Hobie.
The doors opened up letting bright neon lights seep in and illuminate your face. The ��bar’ (which looked more like a rave) was more lively than most bars you've gone to. Vibrant blends of pink, blue, and yellow casted over you.
“W'dya think?” A voice shouted over the blasting songs, Hobie's voice. You just stared at him wide eyed, unable to make up a coherent response. “You'll get used to it.” He nudged you before stepping out the elevator, signaling for you to follow him.
You shook yourself out of your daze and promptly caught up with him. You swore to god you've put way too much trust in someone you met a day ago. Maybe not even a complete 24 hours yet but you're too deep in and too stubborn to turn around.
“You come here often then?” You arched an eyebrow in his direction, his gaze straight ahead but he tilted his head a little to meet yours.
“Occasionally. Usually—” He was cut off by someone who called out to him in the crowd. “Yo, it's Hobie everyone!”
People glanced in your (his) direction, waving at him and cheering him on. Said man waves back, winking in the direction of a few gals who probably fainted with how excited they got but you didn't bother checking.
“Mr.Popular, huh?”
“That's one way to put it. I come here to hang out often so I know people.”
“Do you usually take all your girls here?” You suddenly blurted out, heat clawed its way up your neck when you processed what you just had said. He raised an eyebrow, unable to suppress the shit-eating grin that came onto his face. “Shut up, I didn't mean it like that.” You grumbled, turning your head away from him. 
“I didn't say anything,” he shrugged, feigning obliviousness. 
“You implied it.”
“Did I?”
Something about his tone just wanted to make you sink into the floor and become one with the secretundergroundbarraveparty (whatever it was) or maybe punch that stupid smile off his face but you didn't do either. Instead you continued making your way through the crowd with him until you reached a bar. Several drinks lined up on several shelves behind the counter. You could tell that it wasn't just some cheap liquor crap either. It made you wonder where they had gotten it from.
He sat down on one of the stools, locking eyes with you before patting the stool beside him. Before you could say anything, your body moved on its own, settling yourself on the stool. Nobody else was really seated near your guys, most of the people were already drunk and partying.
Hobie leaned back against nothing but the air particles, his eyes resting on you when you stirred a little, turning to face him, “what?” you tilted your head.
“Nothin’, just thinking.” He gave you one of his small smiles before his attention averted to the raven-haired girl that walked through one of the doors that was hidden behind the counter. Her eyes fell on the two of you making them pop open, “are my eyes deceiving me or are those my most favorite people? Y/N, you didn't tell me you were in town!” She beamed.
“Yuri?” Your eyes harmonized hers. “I was gonna surprise you but… wait, what're you doing here?”
“Me? I work here, babe. The real question is what are the two of you doing here, hmm?” Yuri gaped, leaning against the counter. Her arms crossed over it.
“He dragged me into this.” You said pointing your thumb at the man beside you, making him gasp dramatically, “nah nah, I see how it is.” He drawled, turning his head away from you.
“Drama queen.” You accused, punched him in his bicep. The two of you acted like you had known each other for years by now.
“Ooh, you two must be close.” Yuri cooed, tilting her head, her cheek squished up against her hand as she watched the two of you interact.
“We met yesterday,” you scoffed, turning down any further suggestions that she could blurt out.
“Is that supposed to make a difference?” Yuri sassed, wiping a glass mug down with a cloth that was under the counter.
“Yuri.” Your eyebrows knitted together making her smirk, “what? I'm being serious.” She smirked.
“If this is you being serious, I don't wanna know what you being unserious is like.” Yuri snickered, placing two mugs in front of the two of you. Her body twisted around pulling out one of the alcoholic drinks out of the shelf and shaking the bottle before pouring it into your glass. “So darling, how've you been, how's Camden treating you so far?” She asked, pushing the two mugs across the counter towards you too.
“It's been alright. I've been working on my parlor recently. Otherwise… nothing special. Oh, Spider-Punk also saved my brain from spewing out like three days ago so that's something,” You shrugged when you suddenly heard Hobie choke on his drink, his beer going down the wrong pipe making him cough harshly. You and Yuri raise an eyebrow in his direction.
“Bloody hell. Sorry, this- this drink is really strong,” He sputtered, clearing his throat. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, tears stinging his eyes.
“Okay…” Your tone contained skepticism in it, “you good now?” You asked to which he nodded. “Fantastic.”
You nodded, turning back to Yuri. A silence washing over the three of you even with the blast of music and chitter chatter in the back.
Yuri opened her mouth to say something but quickly closed it when she heard the door squeak open. A brunette walked through, his face flushed as he stumbled towards the counter. “Hey!”
“Flash!” Yuri squeaked, her eyebrows knitting together. “You're not supposed to drink during your fucking shift!”
“Bloody hell. Chill, mom.” He rolled his eyes, voice awfully slurred leaning his hip against the counter but miserably failing after almost falling.
“Ay,” Hobie lifted his head in a greeting while you sat beside him thinned-lipped.
“Oh my god. Hobie, is that you my man?” Flash exclaimed, throwing his arms out in a hug but unable to reach him due to the counter that separated them so going for a high-wave instead that he missed by a head.
“The one and only,” Hobie snickered, grabbing Flash's wrist and guiding him through the high five properly.
Flash clicked his tongue, turning his head towards you, “Ooh, and who's this pretty little thing?” He smirked, grabbing your hand that laid atop the counter and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. You gave him a polite smile, retracting your hand. You opened your mouth to introduce yourself but Hobie beat you to it. “Y/N Y/L/N. We met yesterday.”
“What he said,” you dipped your chin in agreement.
“A pretty name for a prettier lady,” Flash winked at you when Yuri pushed him away with her whole hand pressed up against his face, “don't mind this idiot. He always gets like this when he's woozy.”
“‘m not woozy.” Flash grumbled, pushing her hand off his face and crossing his arms over his chest like a child who didn't get what they wanted.
“Sure you aren't.” Yuri rolled her eyes, wiping the black marble counter with gold veinings etched into them with a scruffy cloth tinted a light brown at hand (you assumed that it used to be white once.)
“Just a little bit, alright?” He grunted.
You tune in and out of the conversation thinking about what you could do back at the parlor, what you still need to do and improve, how you're going to start developing and promoting your work. Making a website could do me goods, never hurts to try. Maybe I should make a Facebook page— You jumped out of your twilight zone when a pair of fingers snapped right in front of your face.
“Welcome back to earth, love.” Hobie's voice was the first one you processed. 
“Sorry, just got some things on my mind.” You ran a hand over your head till the nape of your neck, letting it settle there.
“I can see that,” Hobie took the empty glass of beer in your hand and replaced it with a refilled one. Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching them with precision before your eyes found their way back to your glass, staring at the foam floating at the top of the glass. You brought the glass up to your lips letting the liquid burn down your throat.
Hobies eyes lit up with amusement, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Calm down, love. The drink ain’ gonna run away from you.” He quipped, his fingers gently wrapping around your forearm pulling the drink down from your lips. Your body slightly tensed up as his warmth seeped into your skin and throughout your body, your eyes meeting his.
Hobie's amused smirk seemed to drop into a line when he noticed the change in the atmosphere. His eyes stuck on yours, yours on his.
The tension suddenly drowned out by the cackle of Yuri who was watching Flash flirt (and fail miserably) with some gals that sat a few seats away from the two of you. His hand quickly untangled itself from your arm finding its way back onto the counter. You let out a breath of relief thankful for brief distraction.
Flash trudged back to where the three of you were, his shoulders slumped with a small pout planted on his face after the girls left with scowls and disgust etched on their faces.
“No luck?” Yuri teased.
“Shut up.” Flash huffed, snapping his head away from her to which Yuri hummed smugly.
Hobie reassured Flash by giving him a small pat on his back whispering some words into his ear that seemed to lighten him up. 
“Hey, up for some dare or drink?” Flash beamed suddenly, his movement more animated than before.
“What?” you tilt your head quizzically. 
“Dare or drink, do the dare or chug a beer.” Flash summarized with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders.
“Oh no, I should probably get back in a couple of minutes,” you interjected, waving your hands in the air dismissively. 
Yuri frowned, “c'mon babe, my shift is almost over. It won't hurt you to have a little fun, y'know?”
“I really shouldn't-” You protested but quickly folded with Yuri's small pout the alcohol in your system. I'm so gonna regret this later.
“Chug, chug, chug!” The three chanted while your hazy eyes tried to focus on the mug of beer in front of you. This might've been your fifth drink of the night, but could you blame yourself? You were definitely NOT texting your fucking ex that you missed him (given by our dear Flash). Not in a million years, but it was more tempting than chugging another beer and inevitably using the next person near you as a vomit bucket.
“Fuck, 'm gonna vomit.” You slurred, putting the glass mug down on the marble counter. Somehow, even with four and a half beers in your system, you could kind of think properly.
Kind of.
“It's the beer or the dare, babe.” Yuri reminded, wiggling her finger.
“Mhm,” you pinched the bridge of your nose trying to rub the blur out of your eyesight. “I-I’m going to find the bathroom.” You shook your head, standing up clumsily. You swallowed the saliva that had built up in your mouth but it didn't help with your slurring at all.
You just whipped around and showed yourself the way towards the bathroom which you had no idea where the fuck it was simply disappearing into the crowd.
“That's not even the direction of the bathroom.” Yuri murmured, sighing defeatedly.
“So… who's going with her?” Flash raised an eyebrow, his eyes bouncing between Hobie and Yuri. The two stared back at him, making him raise his hands in the air defensively, “not it.”
It made both Hobie and Yuri roll their eyes. Yuri turned towards Hobie, opening her mouth to say something but Hobie interrupted her before she could.
“I'll go, ya both enjoy. If we don't return, we left, ‘ight?” Hobie gave them a curt nod and small goodbyes before he headed your way quickly just in case you were about to do something stupidly stupid and wouldn't be able to take it back.
Hobie strutted through the packed room, hands in pocket, eyes searching for a certain (h/c) headed individual. His height an advantage as he could see over the array of people. His nostrils taking in a whiff of the sweat and alcohol mixed in with the air, dancing bodies bumping against his.
Where did she go? He bit the inside of his cheek, eyes wandered over the room, skimming through the crowd but unable to spot you. You went in the complete wrong direction so you couldn't possibly have made it to the bathroom.
Should he call your name? Probably not, as tempting as it was, you weren't really a lost child.
He caught a glimpse of you – your back turned to him whilst you talked to two other girls. He doesn't remember introducing you to them. Maybe you knew them already? He pushed the thoughts aside, walking over towards you.
He tapped your shoulder, “Y/N-” only to freeze in his stance when he saw ‘you’ turn around.
“Huh?” The amber-eyed woman looked Hobie up and down, her eyes sparkling. “Sorry, can I help you?” She spoke softly, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.
“Sorry love, thought you were somebody else.” He explained noticing her smile slip a little.
“Oh.” She murmured melancholy, plastering a fake smile on her face. Hobie nodded and quickly left before she could say anything else.
Something – Someone – suddenly slammed into his side, his hands reaching down and grabbing their waist to steady them.
He looked down, finding your hazy eyes melding with his, “you good?”
“Just a little… light-headed.” You reassured, rubbing your eye with the heel of your palm unable to ignore the uneasiness in the back of your throat but you didn't see why he had to know that.
“You wanna get outta here?” Hobie suggested, watching you narrow your eyes at him before nodding and mumbling something he assumed was a yes.
He moved his hand up wrapping around your shoulder and leading you towards the elevator.
Ding.
The Elevator had reached the top, the metal doors sliding out revealing how the dark blue had taken over the sky, multiple glowing specks adorning the sky. What time was it? Where were you two going now? You wondered, your thoughts racing from one to another. At least they hadn't gone completely blank… yet.
Your body moved on its own — with the help of Hobie, of course. Otherwise you'd probably still be tossed around the crowd like a colorful toy among a group of children.
You'd rushed over dipped your head over a plant pot that busied the wall right next to the elevator when you reached it. Gagging and retching, expecting your half-digested lunch and almost 5 beers to make a quick reappearance but it never did.
“You feelin’ better?” The voice snapped you out of your musing.
“Nope,” you answered with a pop of the p. “I think… I think it's probably gotten worse actually.” Your answer was slow, trying to comprehend each syllable you spit out of your mouth.
“Eh, should've known better before dragging ya into a bar and making you chug beer.” He sighed, feeling you lean against him while he continued to steady your movement.
“Probably.”
“Definitely.”
“Did you enjoy at least?” Hobie asked, trying to make some good of the situation.
“Mhm.” You crooned, stumbling over your own foot but never making it to the floor. He twisted the door knob that probably would've broken down if the breeze of air was too fast. “So where do you live?”
“Eh… my apartment.” You answered.
He chuckled at your ominous answer, “and where would your ‘apartment’ be?”
Huh… your apartment? It was on street… Your thoughts went blank. Did you just forget where you fucking live? yes. Yes you did. But if you think hard enough– nope. nothing. Maybe you shouldn't have drank that much.
With how long you were silent for, Hobie realized the problem. “Ya forgot?”
“I forgot.”
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𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬��: @the-kr8tor @missshelleyduvall @hobieszeze
Banner(s) by @/cafekitsune
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insuke69 · 2 days
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What's in a name? P3
✰⁂ Hobie brown × Rich!Osborn!reader
Part I, Part II, Part III
3/3
Synopsis: Osborn is almost a disgusting name because of the messed up things it has and the dirty money that holds it up by threads. And here is the child that sneaks out one night and meets a punk that goes directly against her father.
✩Warnings: cussing, Some angst, 'crybaby' reader, depictions of smut, ‘tantrum’
Rated 13+(??)
✰6.5k words.
⚥Afab/fem reader
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____________________
The last month has been.. Blissful.
Relaxing and calm for you, Hobie making you feel things you’ve never experienced with his tongue, hands, and words.
Something about him as the punk he is almost leveled out your expensive life, humble houseboat compared to your marble mansion. Some nights were spent planning, some were small date-like hangouts, some were spent with his lips locked in yours and his tongue teaching you how kissing should feel.
But you didn’t realize how little he mentioned or even acknowledged (y/n) in your presence. You didn’t know if he was fully alright with everything that went down between you two though. He would stop wearing his spiderpunk mask around you and you’d stop wearing your balaclava which probably- or hopefully meant he still trusted you.
You even started taking more money from your dad and buying even more things to donate with less fear of being caught, you and Hobie would go to large corporations disguised as a cute couple that definitely wouldn’t pocket a particularly enticing trinket.
You kind of feel like robin hood, but instead of stealing actual gold and riches, you spend what's given to you for different purposes, one step at a time. Hobie has shown you the differences between real and fake silver, obviously you know how to tell in your jewelry by seeing its shine, but now he’s explained the more simpler ways and reasonable prices for normal people since way back then you never had to look at the multiple thousands on a cute bracelet.
Your shoebox of polaroid pictures grew and so did your relationship with Hobie. You began learning about your own pleasure along with learning of his, what movements you can do with your tongue or hips that makes him whimper beautifully throughout the bedroom of his small houseboat.
And Hobie hasn’t hesitated with taking his pictures and tucking them into the waistband of your panties for ‘memorabilia’, So now that shoebox consisted of pictures of you and him spray painting, your masked smile posing beside another one of your fathers now vandalized buildings, and some of Hobie’s favorites.
Ones where he’s bottomed out, hips against your plush ass and his hand holding your hair in a make-shift ponytail, the other taking the picture. Another one where you’re looking up at him with your eyes doe and tongue out, his seed stained on your lips and chin. The list goes on and on about the lewd adventures you and Hobie have done. Each picture is more intimate than the last.
___________
The knock on the door makes your chest tense, immediately shoving the pictures and shoebox under your bed and leaning your hips against the mattress, looking over at the door.
Roxanne opens it and comes in with a clipboard in hand, head dipped downwards as she began rambling about another event your father is planning to host in your mansion.
“Alright so, security will be tighter but your father will be making a party to celebrate the new opening of a bank, so you’ll be wearing a mostly green dress and most of the house will be open to guests. Unlikely anyone will come to your room but the housemaid will be sure to clean everything top to bottom, left to right.”
You were practically tuning her out since she often covered this information for every event, the same information.
For every event.
The only difference was that this was going to be held at your house for the first time since your mothers funeral. It was weird but you remembered the procedures: Big guard watching your every move, random people whose gross hands you have to shake, rinse and repeat.
“So when is this thing gonna be?” You ask Roxy with a tilt of your head and sitting on the edge of your bed as she remained in her spot where she stood.
“Soon, around the twenty-second.” She answered without her gaze moving from her clipboard, her pen tapping it in a senseless rhythm which expressed her deep thoughts on the subject, Likely thinking about some things more important than your petty dress or makeup.
“That will be all. Your father will give you his black card so you could buy a dress of your liking. Special event means that-”
“I can’t risk re-wearing something I’ve worn before, yeah yeah.” You cut her off with an eye roll, knowing what she was gonna say.
Roxy raised her eyebrows at this attitude but shrugged it off, “Precisely, you’ll be sent out around the afternoon, let's say at around two-thirty.” And with that, Roxanne nodded and walked right out, leaving the door open on her way out.
You stand from your bed and shut the door, pulling out your phone to text Hobie once the click of the knob confirmed its closed position.
“Im going out later with Normans money” It felt weird to refer to your dad by his first name, but referring to him as your dad didn’t feel right either, and calling him ‘Osborn’ had too much association with you.
“K” Hobie messaged back, “what time”
“I’ll actually have to buy something. A pretty dress so do you wanna tag along for that too?” You smiled to yourself, knowing Hobie wouldn’t really want to be in a fancy dress shop and have to judge each and every dress that's even a shade of green-
“Why not”
You can feel the shrug from past the screen, his usual gesture whenever he says something like ‘why not’. And before you knew it, by the time you ran off from your secret service-like bodyguards, you spotted Hobie.
Not spiderpunk- You spotted the handsome man beneath, face covered in piercings and hair being as lawless as his other punk persona. He grins down at you and offers you his arm and with a mocking tone, says “Alrigh’ M’lady, Where we goin’ first?”
“What are you playing at, Hobie?” You ask as your head shook and your arm intertwined with his, walking down the street towards your usual dress shop you’ve gone to since you were thirteen. No other place was ‘trustworthy’ as your father put it, and you’ve never liked the hassle of exact measurements.
“Whatever could you mean, Ms Osborn?” He grinned, looking around the streets at the peoples heads turning because of some random punk star with the daughter of the richest and most powerful man in the city.
You two were in the main street where more expensive shops were, you had your dads credit card so you couldn’t spend it in the smaller businesses Hobie had shown you in his part of town because they would show up in the statements, or because they didn’t even take card. Hobie felt like a fish out of water when he was walking down these sidewalks with smooth brick tiles instead of cracked pavement for once.
“You know damn well.” You scoffed in response, “Do you seriously want to do dress shopping with me instead of.. Emily?” Your voice lowers as you mentioned your masked persona which makes Hobie chuckle and shake his head.
“Well, I wouldn’t be able to spend time with either. Plus, It doesn’ matter now, Wha’ dresses are we gettin’ you now, princess?” He teased in a lower voice with a stupid smirk as the arm that was intertwined with yours slid to your waist. You could feel your face heat up but you keep your head up and continue walking with him beside you, him walking on the part of the sidewalk closest to the road.
“Fucking hell, just.. Okay so the plan is that I’ll try on dresses and you’ll boost my ego in every one and you’ll tell me which one is the best look for me.” You told him, trying to brush off how he called you princess, how you can swear he knows what he’s doing.
He raised his eyebrows then his hands in a faux surrender gesture, “Yes ma'am.” His voice is smug and it’s as if he’s coming along to humor you.
Your eyes roll and you shake your head, walking beside him with his arm intertwined with yours in a playfully chivalrous manner, as if he wasn’t already polar opposites with you. You seem like an elegant quartz and he was a stone pulled out of a vandalized building. Your height differences making you either unfortnately shorter or him somehow taller.
“Here’s the place, just-” You began, almost getting to the dress parlor but Hobie soon pulled you into an alley right beside the building and kissed you, which made you squeak and your hands moving to his chest.
“What the fuck?!” You asked as you looked up at him and he just smugly grinned and looked down at you, his hands on your waist as you continued, “Anyone could have seen. I would be fucked if anyone saw that, neither of us have a mask and unlike you, if my reputation gets a single mark, that would get my dads attention and-”
He rolled his eyes and kissed you again, as if to stop your worries. “It’s fine, tell me: Do you ever look into alleyways when you’re shopping?” He asks rhetorically to get his point across, most people like you wouldn’t care for smaller details and excuse the alleyways whilst on their errands
“.. What if someone decided to look? We’d be screwed.” You retort, shaking your head, which made Hobie shake his head back with a chuckle.
“You’re paranoid.” He scoffed as he took your hand and brought you back out to the sidewalk and towards the shop you had mentioned.
Hobie brown will be the death of you, but spiderpunk always made you feel alive.
_________
You got the dress and Hobie let you go on your merry way before you got picked up so that you dad’s men wouldn’t see you with anyone.
The event had arrived and like you assumed, random rich womanizers with their trophy wives and laughing as if they owned the world. Well, they practically do, But there's one specific couple that makes you seeth.
Your father has always been family oriented so now that an event is at your house, your uncle and aunt will be coming over to be more heads to count at the party. There's nothing wrong with your uncle Wilson or aunt Doris on paper but it’s the kid they have that makes your blood boil.
The kid is named Elizabeth as if she were a respectable person, but she was barely a freshman in highschool who has as much as you did financially, except she wasn’t homeschooled like you were and her ego was as big as the numbers in her parents bank account. She never grew out of her brat phase and she’s more spoiled than you because if she sees someone with something she wants she asks for it tenfold.
“Oh my god! Where did you get those earrings?” She grinned as she ignored your concept of personal space and reached out to grab the shiny jewelry that hung from your ear.
You pull away from her and awkwardly smile once you avoid her touch, “Your Aunt Emily gave them to me.” You answered with almost exaggerated politeness, referring to your own mother as her aunt because there’s no way she’d remember her as your mom.
“Oh yeah! She’s dead right?” She frowned, “She can’t get me anything like that? Where did she get them? Do you know?” Her tone was laced with disappointment.
You almost froze at her words. You never minded much about who spoke about your mom but the way she said it as if she were simply talking about a show that was canceled.
“..Yeah, Last time we saw each other it was literally her memorial ceremony.” You mumbled with slight snark to which your aunt chimed in a half apology before ushering your cousin away.
“But Mom! Why does she get cool things? I wish I were homeschooled and that my daddy was the president! It’s not fair!” She whined dramatically as she threw her arms around, as if throwing a mini tantrum for her mother.
And you think that's the only time anyone has been understanding of your situation, because your aunt swatted her on the back of her head and began telling her to calm down, and that homeschooling would take away her reputation as the popular girl at school which shut Elizabeth right up.
They fade into the crowd and you stand aside, eating an appetizer of a snack before suddenly a large suited man recognized as your bodyguard approaches you and quietly says into your ear, “Have you allowed Ms. Elizabeth into your bedroom?”
When he says this you decide to play it cool and softly shake your head, placing your hand on his shoulder once he begins walking back towards the hall of your room then stopping him. Walking to your room instead, and once you were out of sight from the party, you bolted up the stairs towards the creaked open bedroom door.
You shove open the door and feel your heart drop, you knew your cousin was snooping around your room but what need did she have to look under the bed?
And in your goddamn shoebox.
“What the hell are you doing?” You yelled as you went over to her and snatched the pictures out of her hands, which she sarcastically surrendered with a dramatic gesture of her hands.
“What are you doing? Actually, who are you doing?” Elizabeth grinned as she held out another picture where it was you on top of Hobie, a loose shirt adorning your torso which luckily hid where he disappeared inside of you.
“Shut up! You’re just- you aren’t even supposed to be in here!” You snatched the picture and quickly shoved it into the shoebox, then the box under your bed.
“I was looking for any extra earrings you could give me, not like you have anyone to look good for other than that rando.” She commented with childish snark as she vaguely gestured in the direction of the intimate box and images. “I didn’t realize you had a little boy toy you’ve kept hidden, Does my uncle know?”
Your eyebrows furrow as she asks if your dad knows about him, About Hobie. You keep your mouth shut and glance away as you struggle to hold in your genuine frustration at how this is how you ended up caught.
“.. Still doesn’t explain why you’re looking under my bed for some earrings.” You change the subject off of Hobie and back to how she’s in the wrong for snooping around your bedroom in the first place.
“You still haven’t told me who this guy is! I’m guessing he’s just some booty call, not even a boyfriend to you?” Ellie said with a smirk, but more in a condescending way as if she were better than you for having some kind of relationship that wasn’t based on sex.
“He isn’t just ‘some booty call’-” You began before the teenager continued, looking over another picture.
“He’s hot though, but too many piercings. Does he have a piercing on his tongue? Can’t see your face well on this one but wow, big hands-” She teased which made you snatch the next polaroid from her hand and your cheeks flush red at what that one was this time.
It showed Hobie’s unruly hair between your thighs, which were being held tightly by his ringed hands to keep them open, his eyes straight up into the camera where you took a picture of him feasting on your core. You’re so grateful she was on the more basic side of popularity where she didn’t know punk stars, Hobie seemed like some random emo to her. Luckily.
You could see on her expression that she had a request and something to say, so you gestured your hand ironically, “Go ahead, take your time. Go ahead.” You prompted sarcastically.
“So, It would suck if your dad found out about this.” Her head tilts, “So, Just give me your earrings. Unless you want your dad finding out you have some other ‘daddy’?”
You cringe at how she referred to Hobie as your other daddy, but your stomach soon drops as you realize that she’s blackmailing you just for a pair of your moms earrings.
Dead Moms Earrings.
“You sadistic bitch!” You cursed as you got closer, about to give her a well deserved slap for her stupid actions, wanting to humble her like she deserved before she stopped you and stepped back.
“Hurt me and I’ll go announce it to the event! Imagine the headlines, ‘Norman Osborn’s daughter caught with a random guy!’, your reputation.” she said with a sarcastic gesture of her hands as she walked towards your door.
“Reputation? Fucking- fine.” You yanked her sleeve to keep her from walking out, soon moving your hands to your ears in order to take off your earrings, “I want you to just.. Take care of the earrings. Please.” You mumbled before passing her the pair of jewelry.
“Whatever.” she shrugged as she looked at the shine of the gold then shoved them in her pocket, “Thank you cousin dearest.” She playfully mocked before walking out of your room, leaving you with your own thoughts and leaving the door open.
You nearly slam the door shut then lean on it with your back, eyes quickly filling with angry tears and hands moving to grip your hair in frustration. At how easily you were manipulated, at how your cousin obviously thought little of you, how she called Hobie a random booty-call.. Familiar feelings erupted in a choked sob from your throat.
Guilt.
Rage.
Frustration.
Your fist tightened and was about to be tossed back to punch any surface you could to relieve what you could but soon you heard a twhip and a sticky white rope soon surrounded your hand and kept it from going anywhere or doing anything.
You sigh once you realize what caused it, and soon that reason walks- or drops in through your window, pulling off his Spiderpunk mask and heading over to you.
“You alrigh’?” Hobie said softly as he got the web off of you and kneeled beside you, his hand on your shoulder.
Hobie knows that when you cry it's never for no reason, He has learned about your sensitive habits but he has never seen you like this. Tearing up with anger he had only seen the night you two argued, and the second you choked another sob and your arms wrapped around him he quickly hugged you back.
You felt safe in his lanky arms, comforted and as if he could shield you from dangers or people that couldn’t ever treat you as a person. He couldn’t ever be just a booty-call because he's the only feeling of ‘home’ you’ve had since before Osborn industries became a bigger thing.
After you didn’t answer his question as if you were alright, Hobie simply held you close and cradled you like how you deserved.
Once your breathing calmed and relaxed, you soon moved your hands to cradle his face and he quickly met your gaze with his, “Was this jus’ an excuse to hug me?” Hobie joked with a chuckle to lighten your mood, soon being met with a swat to the shoulder.
“..My cousin blackmailed me into giving her some earrings, but they used to be my moms.. And she didn’t care.” You explained softly to summarize, pulling back and running a hand through your hair.
“Blackmailed? That’s.. That’s dumb, what was she using against you?” Hobie asked as he rested his hands on your waist and looked down at you.
“Your pictures.” You scoffed as your hands lowered to his chest, nodding your head towards the shoebox where the picture of Hobie with his head between your legs was faced up. You saw Hobie’s smirk adorn his lips as he looked at the polaroid and bit his lip, making you roll your eyes and softly hit his chest.
“What! What do you mean by my pictures? As far as I’m concerned, all of that was a team effort.” He cooed as his hands lowered to your hips and he pulled you closer where your body flushed against his.
Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, “You realize that I’m fucked?” You half joke, “She found our pictures, and if she blabs to anyone around here, That will spread like wildfire.”
“Yeah yeah, what if you just stopped worrying? What if I had a solution?” Hobie teased before giving you a peck on the lips.
“Hm?” You question as you kissed him back, “Well, I’ve been fixing my houseboat.. And what if we could sail away together?” Hobie responded smugly.
Your eyebrows raise and you chuckle as if he were joking but his smile remains the same and his eyes gazing into yours. “Seriously? No- I don’t.. I can’t.” you retort with an awkward chuckle, “I don’t have any money without my dad, I wouldn’t be able to contribute.”
“Don’t worry about that, We could run off- spiderpunk can protect another place and you wouldn’t be the daughter of a monster.” He said before kissing you again before you argue and respond. “Think ‘bout it.”
“Hmm.. No.”
As tempting as it was, Seriously tempting, The idea of being able to go away and get out. Be your own person and finally be independent, you couldn’t bear the idea of your dad being heartbroken that you’re gone. He’s a horrible person, a horrible man, But he’s still your father.
And a damn good one.
What he’s done is unforgivable but he always was able to put food on the table for you and never once missed the chance to tell you he loves you. When your mother died it was you and him against the world, even if he was what mostly made up the issues of said world.
Hobie’s expression was like a mixture of confusion and disappointment which makes you sigh and explain yourself with your hands soothing onto his shoulders, “Sorry, It’s just that.. I can’t leave him. He’d be alone without me, and he was already broken when his wife died and no way I’m making him go through everything and worse.”
Hobie smiled at how thoughtful you were, almost too much for your own good.
“Alrigh’, I won’t be able to live with myself if I force you to come with me anyway.” Hobie chuckled before kissing you again, with a softer peck with his lips against yours for a moment.
“Well, okay. I feel like any moment now some random lady’ll knock on your door. You go’a get back to being a princess.” Hobie teased before pulling away from you, soon heading back to the window from which he came in.
“Awh, how will I survive without my knight in shining armor?” You said sarcastically as you followed him, and with a grin he brought you close and kissed your forehead, “You’ll manage.”
And with that, he flopped out and a web shot to a nearby building where he swung.
You watch his figure disappear into the distance and sigh to yourself, taking a breath to mentally prepare yourself and going to your vanity to reapply your makeup that smudged in your earlier ‘tantrum’ as Hobie would tease.
______________
The night breezes by as you stay aside, and thank god it speeds on by as the guests fade away and thankfully all those who are left are your uncle and aunt, and their hellspawn.
Thinking they were in any other place, you go to the kitchen for a snack.
And there was your thirteenth reason.
The hellspawn of satan and the embodiment of one of the seven sins was in your kitchen, sitting on the counter munching on your chips, On your chips you specifically have been saving for a time like this when you were craving them specifically.
She looked over at you before munching loudly on the savory snack, making your blood boil as she seemed to not care she’s eating the snacks you’ve specifically had stored in another part of the kitchen. Clearly implying that they weren’t up for taking.
But before you speak, you notice her wearing the earrings you gave her, her mom obviously knew you didn’t want to give them to her in the first place so how could she just shamelessly wear them?
“Oh, I’m a woman of honor so I won’t need these anymore, they’re heavy and they’re just not my style.” You cousin said as she pushed herself off the counter, with her dusty fingers she removed the earrings and passed them to you, leaving the silver greasy and you’re right about to slap her into the next century until your aunt and uncle walk into the kitchen seeming tense.
Your dad follows behind them, seeming tense as well but his discomfort is much more easily hidden than your aunts.
“We’re going now, say bye to your cousin.” Your aunt said curtly, her hand on Elizabeth's shoulder as your uncle straight up walked out without glancing at you.
“Bye! Good luck.” Your little cousin cooed before leaving with her mom giving you a disappointed glance, then following suit.
“..Dad? What's all that about?” You ask with an awkward laugh that came out more as a nervous outward breath, to which he looked at you and in your hands at the earrings.
“Get those cleaned up from that grease, they were your mothers. At least Elizabeth practically refunded you.” Your dad chuckled dryly before walking past you to the stairs.
Refunded?
Shit.
You place the earrings on the kitchen counter and follow behind him, his objective clearly being to go into your room.
“Wait! Wait- wait, dad, what are you doing? Remember privacy..! Our rule being I can’t go in your room and you can’t go into mine?” You stumbled on your words as you watched him open your door like a man on a mission, You distinctly remember that when you turned around twelve years old and was learning more about what Osborn Industries do, your dad has done his best to make sure you had little to no part in his business, which meant no more ‘office visits’.
He hadn’t been in your room since you took down your My Little Pony posters and stopped using jewelry boxes with music and rotating ballerinas in them.
He abruptly stood next to your door and gestured for you to go in first. His silent order was enough to shut you up and walk in, your father stepping into your room behind you.
“Anything you want to show me?” Norman asked with a tilt of his head, looking at you in a way you don’t think you’ve ever seen happen in your life. You were always a ‘good kid’, meaning you weren’t always caught.
With your answer: Silence, Norman looked away and took a breath with his tongue in his cheek and his hands on his hips. “Take it out.” He ordered, and before you even tried to act dumb in your answer, he repeated himself with a louder tone and pointed towards your bed.
Digging your own grave, you nod and do as he said, going to your bed and taking out the shoebox, placing it at the edge and sitting beside it.
Your dad came closer and sat on the edge of the bed with the box between you two, “So, Do you want to tell me what's in here?” His hand rests on the top of the shoebox and your hands clench into the lace of your dress.
Your dad never was the kind to ask anything unless he already knew, so you really were practically six feet under. If you say no, he’ll make you open the box. If you confess, you have no idea if anything worse will happen.
“..Pictures..” you murmured,
“Pictures of what?”
“Of me and someone.”
At your vague answer, his hand suddenly moved to the side of the shoebox and he pushed it off the bed, the cover falling off and the photos spilling out. He doesn’t look at the pictures at all and instead looks at the wall in the opposite direction away from them.
“Grab a picture where I see who it is.. Try to find nothing inappropriate.” Norman continued, seeming to wait patiently for you to do as he says. Now you feel like you’re being questioned to the point your teeth or fingers are at risk.
You look at the fallen pictures and back at Norman to make sure he's faced away, and look through them, looking for the least incriminating one of Hobie. Tears of dread and humiliation pooling at your eyes as you place it on the bed in front of your father, one where it's simply one of hobie with his neck craned to show hickeys littered on his slim jawline and collarbone.
Norman hums and nods slightly, “Is this that guy you liked? His music was like rock and his name was.. Harry? Henry? something-brown?”
“Punk music, and uhm.. It’s Hobie.” you mumble, you could never go against your father as if you two were like mixing oil and water.
He hums again before speaking with a firm and cold voice, “You aren’t seeing him again, and you’re not allowed out of the house. Roxanne will make your purchases and do your errands, and I’ll hire a twenty-four hour bodyguard.” He then stood as if your heart wasn’t just shattered by how you won’t be able to help anyone anymore, you’re more trapped than you were even before Hobie was in the picture, literally and figuratively.
You stood along with him and gestured your hands frantically, “What!? No! You can’t just-” You yelled before your words suddenly stop the moment you feel a sting on the side of your face, he just slapped you..
“Osborns don’t yell, and we don’t do disgusting activities with a perverted musician who’s only success in life is his ‘lifestyle’ of acting like a worthless punk.” You’ve never heard such venom in words spat from your father, never directed towards you at least.
And with that, he walked out. You felt like you were going to explode with all the anger boiling and frustration bubbling in your chest and when he walked out of your room, you screamed into your pillow and cried your heart out.
You don’t realize how long it’s been when you wake up, sitting up from your bed and looking over your bedroom where the few things that brought you joy were gone and cleaned out. Like your stereo, record player, Vinyl records, and your phone.
You felt tears prickle at the sides of your eyes and wish that this was a dream, that you can wake up to your father still loving you and hopeful that this really wasn’t happening.
About to lay back and cry again, you hear a thump on your window and then a few knocks.
You stand up and head over to your window to find Hobie awkwardly hanging on the wall while gesturing to the wooden frame of the glassed hole in your room.
You see that there's a lock, but a whole ass padlock that requires a key as if your window were the gates to a junkyard.
You shut your eyes and clasp your hands over your face with an exaggerated gentleness, knowing Hobie would break the window if he saw you physically take your frustration out on yourself or anything around you.
But just then your bedroom door flies open with Roxy standing there, staring at you and the punk by your window. You open your mouth to speak but she stops you with a gesture of her hand.
“Your father sent me up here to tell you that you’re no longer allowed out without your bodyguards, tomorrow security cameras will be installed outside your window, and.. I think you can tell what else I was going to say.” Her eyes fell to the window you were standing next to, hardly getting a glimpse of Hobie before he put his mask on. All she could see was just his skin tone and the dim shine of his piercings, “Window is locked with a key he’s trusting me to keep.”
“Roxy, please..” You mumbled as you went to her, tone pleading and genuine, “You know this is worse than before, couldn’t you have told my dad to go easy? This is my first offense, I always was well behaved for hi-”
“You know as much as I do that these are your consequences, I should have never let you go out so many times.” She sighed in disappointment, directed to either you or herself as she continued, “I’m sorry but it's not that it’s your ‘first offense’, it’s the fact that you’ve gone out and behaved like a borderline slut with a man you know your father despises.”
“..The slut comment wasn’t necessary.” You commented as you looked away and crossed your arms over your chest. You knew she wasn’t wrong but this felt like, “This is overkill, dude.”
“Yeah well, say that to your father when he’s back to being able to look you in the eyes.” Roxxanne didn’t even seem to do it either by how she looked at you but not at you.
“Please, Please at least unlock the window so me and ho-” You pause, “me and him can just say goodbye?”
You knew this sounded dramatic but you knew your dad wouldn’t give you the chance to do anything until you were thirty, maybe longer if he keeps denying the fact that you aren’t a little girl anymore.
“You’re just so.. Dammit.” That was the first time you’ve heard Roxy come close to cussing, but you immediately forget that as you watch her take out a keychain from her pocket, you couldn’t help but grin at her singling out the key that opens the padlock of the locked window.
The padlock soon opened with a click, the window sliding open and Roxy stood aside as Spiderpunk crawled in, flopping on the ground and getting up casually with an awkward nod of his head as a greeting to the woman that let him in.
She looked him up and down before back at you, “Keep this quick, if your father finds this out you’re completely on your own.” Roxy said seriously.
“Thank you so fucking much!” You grinned before latching onto her in a hug, to which she loosely embraced you back. “You’re still on thin ice, alright?” She whispered to you before pulling back and patting your shoulders.
Roxy turned back towards the masked punk stood there, getting face to face–as much as she could with him towering over her–And spoke with a hint of threat. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, keep her safe or so help me god Mr. Osborn will know of everything done.”
“Yes ma’am.” Spiderpunk replied with a surrender gesture of his hand, “She’s in good hands.”
And with that, Roxxanne said something about how you two have an hour, keeping things PG, and so forth. Then, she was gone with a shut of the door behind her.
“..Seems like you were found out.” Hobie commented with a dry chuckle, making sure to lock the door before taking off his mask, soon being attacked with a hug by you, your face in his chest and your arms clinging to him tightly.
“It’s worse than before! There's locks on everything and theres- theres gonna be cameras everywhere, my dad managed to make this place hell even more than it already was.” You sobbed into him, making hobie tightly hug you back with his gloved hand cradling the back of your head.
“I’s alright dove, we can figure something ou’-” He gently began, using the tone he often had to whenever you got like this, but cut off by one of your choked sobs and continuing.
“He’s never yelled at me before, He always was patient and talked about things but it’s like I’m not even his daughter anymore! Treating me like some dog on a leash he thinks he can hit and make the leash tighter.”
You felt him tense, soon feeling him nuzzling into the top of your head, “Shh..shh, Wha’s this abou’ him bea’ing you like a dog?” His voice was over exaggeratedly calm, making you tense as well.
“No no no no no hang on,” You quickly back tracked, moving back to wipe your tears and look up at him, “He didn’t beat me I was just exaggerating..! He just slapped me and he didn’t do anything more than that nor would he ever.”
You were practically biting yourself in the ass at how you were defending the man that even you hated, but Hobie wasn’t the type of man to let anyone get away with hurting you, he already had enough reason to hate everything your father stood for.
“That son of a..” He trailed off and turned around, he would have beaten your dad into a pulp if you didn't grab his wrist to turn him around to look at you.
“Hobie, you know that this wouldn’t help if not make things worse.” You said to him while looking into his eyes, his face furrowed and tense in his moment of blind rage, soon, his fisted hands relaxed and he let out a breath before pulling you into another hug.
“Look, you’re my whole world and you know this place isn’ good for you.” He murmured into your soft hair, “Please.. Come wit’ me.”
You weren't able to think if its because of the need to try and go against your own father, or at how he seemed so genuine, but the idea of leaving everything you knew behind was too much. You just had to get the last word.
“Alright, I’ll do it.”
Hobie let out a breathless laugh, pulling back to cradle your face and look into your eyes, “Seriously? You mean tha’?” He beamed before kissing you, you could feel the grin on his lips as you amorously reciprocated.
You giggled and nodded, your hands moving to his chest to look up at him, “Yeah! Yeah, when do we go?”
“Within the next hour, pack whatever you can and- and I’ll get whatever we can sell, yeah?”
And with that, The next moments are a blur, you filling your pillowcase with any clothing you can that wouldn’t get you mugged, and Hobie filling another with everything you’ve bought with blood money. From old too-heavy tiaras, to rings, to necklaces you’ve worn once.
Hobie webbed the pillow cases shut and together, having you hold them while he focused on holding you and web slinging to his houseboat.
__________________________
From then on, You’re known as Emily brown.
Not as the daughter of a monster,
Not as the bratty girl with her life handed to her on a silver platter,
Finally your own person.
__________
YIPPEE
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34 notes · View notes
clemleur · 10 months
Text
makin' love - hobie brown
hobie loves it when you get all sappy during sex
his cock is deep in your cunt and his arms are forcing your back to arch so he can hit that spot deeper and harder
he’s all focused on making you feel good and getting you to squirt all over his thick veiny cock when he sees your arm reaching for something behind you and your whines become less pleasure sounding and more “need something” sounding
and before he can even ask what his baby needs, he feels your hand touch and grip his arm
and he realizes that you just wanna hold his hand while he blows your back out
“you wanna hold my hand baby? is that it?” he says while he intertwines his hand with yours
and he knows he was right when instead of responding, you just let out a whine of satisfaction, too fucked out to really give a good response
and in another instance, he’s making love to you in missionary, kissing all over your face and holding you close while you feel the slow drag of his cock in and out of you
he’s rubbing on your clit and you just feel so so good that you tear up a little bit
“what’s wrong? are you okay? do you want to stop?” he asks worried he’s hurting you
but all you do is choke out in between moans that you want a kiss and whisper against his lips that you love him
and it brings him so close so fast that before he can stop it, he cums inside you while wiping your tears while he kisses you nice and slow
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fusaes · 11 months
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reupload
thinkin' about hobie's lip piercings against your cunt, his tongue piercing tickling your entrance, and the cold metal hitting your skin. the makeshift spiky belt restraint to hold your hands together while he eats you out on the couch:( his coarse hair just tickles your inner thighs while burying his head in your wet pussy.
he just won't stop, he's been at it for so long already. his spiky bracelets puncture your skin from holding your shaky thighs apart from closing. ''quit movin' this what you wanted, didn't cha?'' the vibrations of his lip only made your body quiver.
the way your eyes water for him didn't help the boner in his tight black pants. you had him thrusting against the couch for pleasure:( he might as well cum in his pants from your moans and whimpers u give him:(
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keisobe · 11 months
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✮. ⋆ 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 (𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧) ⋮ slightly suggestive. not-so-accurate accent for hobie. not completely proofread.
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hobie tended to be touchy, not in a bad way though. that’s how he displayed his affection after all, his loyalty. whether it be draping his slender arms over the shoulders of pav and miles, or even giving a playful nudges towards gwen whenever miguel gave his weekly lectures about absolute order and his canonical philosophy (total “control freak”, hobie adds).
his physical affection ends with him coming up behind you and caressing a spindly finger over your hips. his lip piercing grazing the back of your neck— cold yet familiar.
“finally foun’ you darlin’.”
or when you’re itching for his warm touch, you simply rest your hands and head onto his knees as you sit prettily onto the carpeted floor— completely halting his tapping leg and eyeing you with curiosity.
“wha’ is it lovely?” his voice sounded silky and it rumbled deep into his chest, like a purr.
the only response you give him is simply tracing a light touch onto his open palm, following the crevices of his rough skin. hobie only smiles, he knew you too well.
“did you miss my touch tha’ badly?”
he slowly reached over towards your cheek, playfully patting the plushness of your skin, making you whine. hobie chuckles at your neediness before brushing a handful of your soft cheeks— a hushed curse slipping through his lips as he witnessed an unholy sight.
you, on your knees, leaning into his touch, your eyes never leaving his. it was driving him crazy, to the point his palms started to tingle.
what really drives him nuts is when you teasingly deny his touches. hobie has been used to you begging for his touch, his affection, but denying his advances catches him by surprise.
“wait wha…?” his words are slurred in confusion when you swatted his lingering hand away from your waist, not even sparing him a glance.
“not today love, gotta catch some anomalies.” you adjusted the watch firmly onto your wrist, pressing colored buttons that projected your target— reeking havoc as it sprinted around a dimension that’s foreign to them.
hobie kept his cool as he spun in front of you. “not even a lil’ kiss?”
a hexagon portal ejected from the settings of your spider watch, illuminating orange light onto your features that made hobie ache for you even more.
“not even a little kiss.” you stuck your tongue with a sly smile, walking into the portal with a sway to your hips. “but i’ll see you at dinner!”
before hobie can even reply, your body was engulfed by the closing portal— leaving him utterly speechless and edged in the bleak darkness. he shakes his head with a crooked smile, tucking his tingling palms into the pockets of his leather vest as he strutted back into his own dimension.
though hobie hated to admit it, his touchiness was also his biggest weakness.
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MOCHIFILM © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.
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hobiebrownbrowser · 9 months
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🔞Hobie Brown x Bratty FEM!Reader🔞
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"Yea, Whatever." The attitude you were steaming off was irking his nerves in all the right places. Every time he tried to talk you'd cut him off with a simple humph or a small groan. He didn't think it would annoy him so much until you started to ignore him.
That's where the line had been crossed, you out of all people know that small dent of patience he had was thin. If he thought of something, he wouldn't think twice about completing his goal.
That's pretty much how you became a moaning mess beside him, Your arms bound behind your back with makeshift cuffs of his spiked belt, Crying out his name as he rubs your clit with small intimate circles of his thumb.
He ignored your cries for him to go faster, Your body leaning into his touch, Your face buried into the crook of his neck as you take in his musk. His body sat on the left side of yours, A hand on your stomach as he holds you down by the skem of your waist.
His groans were right up against your ear, Your vision filled with nothing but pitch black. You were blindfolded, every caress of his long fingers making you shiver.
You didn't know what was gonna happen once he pulled away, feeling your slick drip down your inner thighs. He'd stop if he felt even an ounce of your pussy clasp around his fingers, Knowing, Acknowledging when you were a slither away from coating his fingertips in a beautiful clear white.
"U' don deserve it." You whined out of pity, The cold breeze of the air brushing over your clitoris as he spreads your legs wide, Pinning your knees against the soft comforter of your own bed. The slowness of his fingers thrusting back into you making your mind run wild.
You could feel every part, every vein that roamed his palm as he buried them deeper, his lips sucking your clitoris so deliciously well, The brush of his tongue probing your slit until he'd pushed his body forward.
Your legs pushed up to your chest as he commands you to keep them there, kissing your inner thigh before continuing the brink of your punishment. He was so sweet, yet the pace of his fingers were a deadly addiction. Your body trembling in his grasp as he slaps your clit harshly.
The sound of your slick hitting your sensitive ears as he licks up your arousal with his tongue, putting pressure on your clitoris as he pulls out his fingers once again.
"Obie... please! Fuck!" All you heard was an amusing hum, The bed weighing down on the sides of your head as he hosts himself above you, The tip of his cock aching out the sluttest moan you've ever heard come out of your throat.
You grind your hips, drinking up the small friction of his cock pulsating between your legs. You begged for the blindfold to come off, Your teary eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room as he tosses the thin fabric away, His half-lidded eyes staring from above.
He kisses your cheek, his palms resting on your knees as he slowly pushes the tip of his cock inside of you. A silent groan abrupting from his throat as he feels you tighten around him.
He bucked his hips, his tip kissing your walls so delicately before he slowly pulled back out, the feeling of his veins sending wonders through your body as he pushes himself back inside, Taunting your orgasm further.
"Be a good lush f' me, Such a good fuckin' girl." His praises didn't go unnoticed, his voice continuing to ring in your head as you cum all over his slick coated cock, adding more of your juices as you wail out his name.
His pace rushed a shock up your spine with every plunge of his cock, Your vision seeing stars as he overstimulates your swollen clit, Sweat beading down your collarbone, your head falling back onto the silk sheets of your pillows.
He pressed a kiss on your lips, The rhythm of his cock pulsating inside of you, pushing you past a second orgasm, Your moans syncing in harmony.
The bed creaked below you with the force of his pelvis making contact with your inner thighs, His soothing groans becoming staggered the more his balls made contact with the flush of your ass.
His name repeated from your lips as he decorated your insides full of his cum, His eyes fluttering closed as he pulls out, Painting your stomach with his clear seed before slapping your dripping cunt, leaving you tied as he admires your tired figure.
He lined the tip of his cock with your entrance, pushing himself back inside of you as he gives you a tired grin.
"A lil' slut for me, huh? Tightenin' round my cock like the lil' whore you are." He lazily grinded his hips, Your head in the clouds as his pace quickens. His fingers gripped your chin, making you look up at him.
"You're such a' fuckin brat." You only whimpered in response, to fucked out to respond with even a snarky remark. He smiled at that, His focus elsewhere as his eyes lowered down at your swollen cunt.
It was flushed with the taint of a cherry red, Your slick caked on his lower body, making his thighs smooth as silk.
He dug his fingers into the curves of your hips, The serenity of pleasure choking you as you scream out his name, The base of his cock disappearing inside of you as he harshly abuses your gummy walls with rough thrusts, Your vision blurry with strained tears.
That white ring at the base of his cock was captivating, his determination to irk a third orgasm out of you. His hips snapped forward, Watching as he'd completed his mission, your juices coating his abdomen.
Your body was completely limp as he pulls himself out of you, abandoning your insides with vast emptiness before untying your bound hands. You let out an exhausted whine, The sound of defeat emitting from your lips as you cuddle his body, annoyed how he'd won so easily.
"You los' dollface." You mimicked his words, your arms around his waist as you pouted your lips, Hobie chuckled, Placing a kiss on your sweaty forehead.
He got up and ran a bath for the both of you, Grabbing some juice from your mini fridge, making you drink it to soothe your throat. You puffed out your cheeks, willingly taking the beverage before letting him carry you to the tub, that same shit eating grin still plastered on his face.
"Luv ya' too doll."
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artistmarchalius · 9 months
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Innit VS In’t - a PSA
I’ve seen some confusion in Hobie fics around the word “innit” and I think I’ve figured out why: aside from general confusion about the use of the word, I believe some people are occasionally mixing it up with “in’t”.
So let’s dive into it!
Innit - isn’t it
Can be used at the end of a sentence to make it a question or for emphasis.
E.g. “That’s a load of rubbish, innit?” Or “I’m Spider-Man, innit.” (The latter is an example of emphasis. It’s not grammatically correct but using slang isn’t always about being grammatically correct).
“Innit” can also be used in the middle and at the beginning of sentences (in place of “isn’t it”).
E.g. “Innit lovely out here?” Or “You told me that a Vulture variant was loose in Holborn, but innit true you’ve been tellin’ porkies?”
In’t - contraction of “isn’t”
You can use “in’t” in place of “isn’t”.
E.g. “In’t that the guy who was in here earlier?” Or “That’s a metaphor for capitalism, in’t it?” (You could also use “innit” in the second example).
It can be a bit confusing to a non-English ear to distinguish between “innit” and “in’t”, especially when they’re spoken quickly. For example: if you think you’re hearing someone say something like “Innit that right?” (which would be saying “Isn’t it that right?”, then you’re probably actually hearing them say “In’t that right?”
But wait!
Couldn’t you just use “ain’t” instead of “in’t”?
Sure!
“Ain’t” is a very versatile contraction. It can mean: am not, are not, is not, have not, has not, do not, does not and did not.
E.g. “I ain’t a liar!” Or “He ain’t done his homework.” Or “Ain’t that the truth.” Or “It ain’t right.”
Fun facts:
The earliest records of “ain’t” are from the 1700’s but it was popularised by Dickens’ representation of Cockney dialect.
“In’t” originates from Northern England.
So why use “in’t” instead of “ain’t”?
Personal preference, innit?
And there you have it, a dive into the world of “innit”, “in’t” and “ain’t”!
As always, I’m not an expert, I just wanted to share the knowledge that I do have. There may be other ways to use these words, depending on what part of the country you come from, but this should cover the vast majority of them (if not maybe all of them)! Hopefully someone will find this helpful, informative or entertaining at the very least. I know a lot of this seems basic, but there are a lot of non-native English speakers in the fandom so I wanted to cover all my bases.
Let me know if there’s anything else you’d like me to cover and I’ll see what I can do! If you’re using “innit” or “in’t” in your writing but aren’t sure if you’re using it right, I’m happy to look over any sentences you’d like me to!
Happy writing!
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love-bitesx · 10 months
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I loveeeedd the last story Tysm ❤️❤️❤️ Keep up the amazing work 🌈
I have another request
Hobie x fem spider reader
Reader has a weird stalker ex-bf, and the reader tries to keep it a secret from Hobie but he finds out and deals with the ex.
: ̗̀➛ STALKER. hobie brown x fem!reader
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any criminal minds fans out there … i hope u see the parallels of my baby spencer also i'm so sorry, i didn't see until after i wrote this entire thing that you said 'fem spider reader' so it's a fem normal reader, so sorry! i hope it's still okay, tho!! thank u sm for ur support angel !! summary: hobie & y/n have been doing long distance for months, but she never told him exactly why. words: 2.8k (the words just kept coming, sorry its so long lmao) warnings: fem!reader, pronouns not really used but "my girl", "lady", etc. are, read at your own risk! weird stalker bf, creepy fella, hobie n y/n are long distance, very very soft hobie
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“when can i call you next, darlin’?” hobie’s voice was laced with longing, bass distorted by static at the other end of the phone.
“if you’re quick, we can call tomorrow after 5,” you smiled, and if you were in an 80’s romcom, you’d be twisting the phone cord between your fingers.
“5pm it is, don’t be late,” you can hear his smirk, and a bolt of guilt strikes your chest.
“look, i need to ask something, and i think i already know the answer,” hobie speaks, and you bite your lip in anticipation, “the band and i are playing at a new venue tomorrow, it’s the biggest we’ve played, we’re all dead excited, and…”
a sigh.
“well, it won’t feel the same without you there, pretty.”
if the first bolt wasn’t enough, then the second one lived up to it, striking you into the dead center of your heart. it had been well over 6 months since you met hobie. well, “met”. you’d accidentally called the wrong number one day, meaning to contact a friend of a friend, but typing the last number wrong. picking up at the other end was a deep, almost mesmerising voice, telling you; “no bother, darlin’. it happens, just make sure not to lose this number, wanna hear more from ya.”
“hobie, you know i can’t,” your voice is brimming with remorse and you look to the ground.
“i know, shit with your parents, i get it," he tried hard to hide the disappointment, but his heart twanged with neglect and it creeped through into his words.
parents. strict, all-demanding 'parents'. that's what you told hobie when you first started dating, that the reason you aren't able to see him was because your mother was overbearing and extremely protective – it was a lie. a lie that was eating you up from the inside out. the truth was slightly more grim, however.
years ago, you got involved with a guy at work. a couple brief conversations turned into dates, and dates turned into anniversaries, anniversaries turned into toxic, violent arguments and after a long time of dating, you broke up with him. to say he took it badly, was a criminal understatement. threatening phone calls, showing up at your work, sending you gifts and menacing letters – his signature move was scaring off, and even once harming, any man or potential love interest that you interacted with. it was exhausting, and terrifying.
and hobie was different. he was sweet and kind, but rough around the edges, and his voice dripped in passion no matter the topic of conversation. his promises were never empty, and most importantly – he loved you. and you loved him. the last thing you wanted, was your ex to pop up and scare him off, so you kept it from him. limiting your relationship to phone calls at arranged times incase your ex was keeping tabs.
“i’m sorry, hobie,” is all you could muster, not even scratching the tip of the catastrophic iceberg that wedged the back of your throat.
“it’s okay, darlin’, don’t worry that pretty little head over it,” and just like every phone call, you melted into his words, “i love you, yeah? i’ll call you tomorrow at 5.”
“i’ll be waiting,” you smiled, cheeks flushed at his gentle affirmations, “i love you.”
with a ruckus of movement, and what sounded like a kiss, the call ended, and you stared at the screen silently for a moment. not much longer could you avoid it, and the malten bubble of dread spilled into your gut.
sending him a quick text:
‘good luck tomorrow, handsome. what’s the venue called again? you’ll do amazing x’
you turned off your phone, discarding it on the bed as you climbed into the hole of guilt you’d dug yourself.
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“oi, you ready, blud?” hobie’s band mate yelled above the bustle and cheers from the crowd before them. large, bejewelled hands poised onto his guitar strings, he smirked.
“always.”
with a nod to the roadie, the lights went up, illuminating the stage and instruments, hobie's glowing with a harsh red tint. immediately, his sepia eyes digested the crowd. seeing the flushed, excitable faces staring back at him sent a shot of confidence to his bones, and they moved, strumming the guitar with such vigor that the stage floor shook beneath his feet. cheers erupted, and yet felt oddly empty. it was missing something, and he knew what it was immediately.
he'd truly give his all to have you there, front stage in his eyeline, screaming his songs like gospel. not that he'd ever seen you properly, only seeing teasing selfies you'd sent him over the months you'd been together. he didn't care, inherently, he'd fallen head over heels for your personality; a pretty face was only just a bonus.
however, he did yearn for your touch. to feel his hands in your hair, to kiss your cheek, your nose, your neck. he longed to have you with him, even just doing stupid little tasks, having you by his side through the domestic side of life.
his gall spurred him on, his passion surging through his fingertips, spilling out into the sound waves. the audience were lapping it up, screams and chants only barely audible under the booming power of their set. song, after song, after song his talented blood seeped out onto the strings, and his feet were almost numb from the vibration of the bass.
the final song arrived, and his chest was burning, vision blurry, heart pounding against his chest – and he loved it. it was their biggest crowd, their most excitable achievement so far, and his blood pumped with adrenaline as he finished off the set, falling to his knees as he strum his guitar with one final chord. lights falling, his chest was heaving and his eyes scanned the audience one final time – you weren’t there. he had to accept that.
“that was fuckin’ sick, blud!” his bassist yelled as they exited the stage, palm slapping hobie’s shoulder blade and elicited a wide, ecstatic grin.
“you smashed it, mate,” hobie shouted back over the booming stereo that took their place.
“nah, man, you stole the show,” his bassist shook his head, patting him again in appreciation, “good that your lady’s here to see it, too, she must be proud.”
“i wish, mate,” he sighed.
“did you not see her?” his ears perked up, and at his confused expression, his bandmate continued, “over at the back, by the bar, i didn’t know what she looked like, but she was asking after you. ‘er story adds up.”
"shit," he mutters, feet solid on the ground. his heart pounds, skeptical of your presence, but chest bursting with hope that it just might be you, "look, bro, i need to–"
"go! go, man, go see her," his bandmate pushes him in the direction of the bar, and he almost stumbles over his own feet to push the stage door open, met with the chaos of the crowded bar.
dark eyes scanning the aimless faces, he searched for anyone who could look like you; his stature brought him above everyone else, only by a little, but gave him an advantage to seek you out.
"sorry, i need to get past," he repeated, over and over to unassuming bodies, setting through the chaos to find his peace. pushing out at the back, a wave of light met him, shining through empty pint glasses and illuminating the bar.
there you were.
standing quietly, head nodding along to the blasting instrumentals, drink in hand; you were heart-stopping. and he was pretty sure his did. even if he’d never seen you face-to-face, he’d memorised the soft plump of your lips, alluring light in your eyes, even the way your hair fell against your skin from the photos he'd seen. there was no doubt it was you, and my god, you were beautiful. he couldn’t even stop his legs if he tried, as they carried him over to you.
"y/n?" his voice barely travelled through the sound waves, but it hit your ear like a familiar embrace.
turning to him, eyes wide and bright in the twinkling of the bar lights. you drunk him in, warm eyes swallowing every part of him. you'd seen pictures, again, but it could never compare to him. dark brown skin, soft to its complexion, hugged his bones in every perfect way; folding at the creases of his handsome face. he was tall, very tall, and the detail of the curves and indents of his muscles, altered by the shadows of the dim bar light, made your head fuzzy. god, he was beautiful – nothing that a digital screen could ever portray with justice.
"hobie," your voice was crisper than he was used to, and he would bottle it if he could, "hey, handsome, you got a–"
"come 'ere," he interrupted, essentially scooping you into his tense embrace, melting into your scent, the feel of you in his arms. his heart was pounding against his chest. you wrapped yourself around him, running your hands along his leather jacket, ghosting the skin below it.
"you interrupted my introduction," you pouted against his shoulder, "had a whole little joke planned and everything, you know."
"go on, hit me, love," he pulled back a tiny bit, his arms still glued around your waist, looking down through his lashes. you faltered under his intense gaze, giddy smile bursting onto your face and you buried your head in his chest.
"nuh uh, not anymore," you shook your head against him, "you ruined it."
his hand came up to touch your face whilst you spoke, following the edge of your hairline and tucking your hair around your shoulder. he was in awe, having you here, having you with him. tightening his embrace, he didn't want to let you go – ever.
"mhmm," his voice vibrated his chest, and you pulled away, "i'm sure it was hilarious, love."
"it really was," you chuckled, giddy in his presence.
the air grew thicker, your laughter dying out and left with just his strong gaze, his dark brown eyes following yours. you could barely comprehend him being here, in front of you, around you, and he was so much more than you had imagined. feeling his calloused hand caress your cheek, you leaned into his touch, inviting him into your world. cupping your face, hobie bought himself to you, leaning down until his pierced lips were ghosting your own. months he'd dreamed of this, imagined how it would feel to kiss his girl, to taste your lips and feel your love. he could feel your breath, and you were about to give in, until you pulled away.
"wait, i–" you swallowed thickly, pulling your touch from him.
"what's up, darlin'?" his eyes scanned your face for any sign of reason, "did i do somethin'?"
"no! no, you," you sighed, "you're perfect, it's not you."
he'd be lying through his teeth if he denied the pit of anxiety building deep in his stomach, bubbling up his throat.
"what is it?"
"i–" you stuttered again, and fought to get your words out of your brain and into the thick air of the bar, "i haven't been telling you the truth."
silence. just for a second. hobie's brain working over time.
"look, if you've got another fella, or somethin', just get it over with–"
"no! no, hobie, i'm yours, i promise," your words settled him for a second.
"my parents don't care about us, they aren't strict, in fact, they were happy when i told them about you," you begun, opening the dam.
"they know about me?" his voice was smaller than you were used to, and if your brain had a spare synapse to process it, you'd probably have melted.
"yes, and i'm sorry i haven't told you," you avoided his eyes, "it's my ex."
"oh, fuckin' 'ell," he sighed, dropping his arms to his side, and he's about to speak, until you interrupt.
"we broke up years ago, but he's never left me alone," you ring your wrists with your hands nervously, and hobie notices – you looked terrified, "i've tried everything; i've tried the police, i've moved countless times, i've changed jobs, made new friends, met new people – he won't leave me be."
tears welled up now, and his heart reached for you, but his arms stayed stuck by his side.
"every guy that i meet, he's, i don't know, calling them telling them i'm someone i'm not, or following them home and slashing tires, or roughing them up outside pubs," paranoia enveloped you, and your eyes darting around the crowd, "i was so scared, because you're the best i've ever had, and probably will ever have, and i don't want him to scare you off."
"y/n–"
"and i understand if this has done exactly what i'm scared of, because i get that keeping it from you was awful, but i was only trying to protect you and–"
his lips cut you off, warm against your own, capturing your words and pushing them back down your throat. hands on your cheeks, body flush against your own, you melted into him completely. it felt like heaven, like months of tension and longing unravelling like ribbon into the wind. it was safe, gentle, like a promise – a promise that it didn't scare him, and that he was yours.
"is he here?" his voice was low, lips hovering yours.
"i-i don't know," you were flustered, your brain trying to make sense of it all, but his hand on the small of your back stopped any cognitive thoughts, "i haven't seen him."
watching him, hobie's dark eyes floated around the crowd, before falling back onto you. smirk on his lips, he placed a quick peck onto your cheek.
"hmm, i hope he enjoyed the show," he chuckled lowly, and you couldn't help but mimic it, relief flooding off your shoulders, "how about we go somewhere a bit safer?"
"like where?" you questioned, intrigued by the coaxing tone of his voice.
"well, i only live around the corner," he shrugged, before offering his hand. blushing, you slipped your hand into his, the soft skin of his fingers pulling you towards him, until he threw his arm around your shoulder.
"nothing could scare me off, you know," he whispered, placing a kiss to your hair, "i'm 'ard as nails."
"oh yeah?" you giggled.
"mhmm."
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clothed eyes glued to the suspicious figure, hobie stood on a rooftop, footsteps silent as he follows the man below. tailing him through the cobbled back lanes of london, hobie's back tingled with apprehension – he'd been following him for at least a mile, waiting for a perfect opportunity.
and he'd finally found it.
pausing his heavy stroll, the man dug into his pockets and pulled out a slightly crushed pack of cigarettes, fumbling further for a lighter. a small orange glow lit up the air around him as he puffed away, smoke fluttering to meet hobie's nose.
silently, hobie swung to a platform below, pulling his guitar tighter against his back and dropped to the hard ground. the sound of his leather boots colliding with the cobble made the man turn in his direction, eyes wide at the sight.
"spiderman?" the man breathed between puffs, voice hoarse, "can i help you?"
"you know what, i think you can," hobie strutted, hands stuffed into his leather jacket, lanky stance towering him, "are you y/n's ex fella?"
"who's asking?" he questioned stupidly, and hobie let out a laugh.
"bruv, who's– are you stupid or somethin'?" hobie punched him lightly in the shoulder, "do you not see the whole get up?"
"the fuck have you got to do with y/n?" he spat, defensive stance taking over his body.
"none of your business," hobie knew that would sting, "but you're gonna leave her alone, fella."
"you don't know what you're talking about."
"i'm not askin', mate," hobie stepped closer, "and i'm not givin' you a choice."
before he could even utter a response, hobie had swung his spike-studded arm in his direction, knuckles colliding against the pathetic man's jaw, knocking him to the ground below.
"tha's my girl you're messin' with now."
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creamecafe · 10 months
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𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒
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Summary: You can't help but make fun of Hobie for the way he says things differently from London.
Pairing: Hobie Brown x GN!Reader
Warnings: none just major fluff
a/n: I high-key low-key hate this but had to write something for my little rebellion Hobie
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"Wait wait so you call chips crisps?"
"Yes" Hobie sighed, rolling his eyes.
This wasn't the first time you asked about certain words in England than how it works where you live. It was fascinating how Hobie and you called things and lived differently.
"It makes sense that you call chips crisps because their crispy, but why do you call french fries chips? Their not crispy at all. They got soggy because their soft."
"I don't bloody know, I just have been used to calling that my entire life."
"Well I was raised calling them french fries and I'm gonna stick to that."
"Do you even know they were not made in France, they were made in Belgium? The dominant language of southern Belgium is French, and that's where they got the name from."
"What do you say for popsicle in England?" Holding your laughter and excitement
"Ice lolly."
"And to ask that you would like a popsicle?"
"Could I please get a ice lolly?"
You started laughing after he had said that. His accent was so funny to you
"You sound like a young boy in a school uniform from the 1930s."
"And you sound like a real bully making fun of how I say things." Hobie pretends to be upset but can't help but smile because of how cute you look when you laugh.
"But I know I can't be mad at you love." He rises a bit from the couch and kisses you on the cheek.
You turn your head and kissed him more on the lips. Hobie puts his hand up and cups your face. He then guides you down onto the couch lying you down on your back. Now the kiss was getting more heated.
But you guys had to stop to catch your breath. After Hobie pulled away from the kiss, he just smiled at you.
"Would you like to get McDonald's?"
"Yes I would like to get some chips." You smile stupidly thinking you were funny. You were it's just Hobie didn't appreciate it.
"Haha, real funny."
You chuckle at this and just spend the rest of the night eating McDonald's together still making fun of how he says things from back home London.
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𝐍𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐆𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 | 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐈 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 | 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝 | 𝐀𝐎𝟑
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raerae-bb · 10 months
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Just something I think people that write for ATSV should watch
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hanasnx · 11 months
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MINORS DNI 18+
HOBIE BROWN knows how humiliatingly attracted you are to him. Anything he does with his certain spunk or spirit, makes you rethink your decision to stay away from each other.
He’s respected your need for space, but you have a sneaking suspicion he wants to rub your nose in what you’re missing out on.
Even amongst others, he’s shameless, eating a veggie burger of all things across from you. His elbows are propped onto the table, hunched over his meal as he devours it. It’s absolutely primitive. Sauce and grease coating his mouth (glistening in a way that prompts a recollection of after he’s gone down on you) and running down his hands. While you speak you trail off, his attentive hums of confirmation filling your ears with his addicting, deep, rumbling voice. Reminiscent of how he used to softly moan against your neck while buried inside you. You shift in your seat, unconsciously searching for friction as he meets your gaze because you’ve fallen quiet. His long, ringed fingers drop the food onto his plate so carelessly, and when he plunges them into his mouth to lick them clean you barely keep it together. Watching him sloppily suck and lick remnants off his deft digits. How his plump lips wrap around them, and the sound he makes popping off of them.
Your eyelashes flutter when you swallow hard, realizing how quick your breathing has escalated to the point of manually slowing it down.
“Problem?” he asks in an innocent manner, but since you know him it comes off as a tease.
You shake your head, wringing your sweating hands in your lap. Your cursed brain surfaces memories of how those fingers of his have brought you to paradise. To the brink, only to pull you back. To orgasm, to tears.
“No, no problem at all.” Perhaps you should rethink your necessity for space. It’s not like you have to tell the society that you and Hobie are fucking on the side. As long as it stays secret, why wouldn’t you take advantage of your attraction?
“Good,” he tosses the word at you, as if he pretends not to know what he’s doing to you. “Wouldn’t want my favorite spider to be cross wit’ me.”
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sillysowa · 9 months
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I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM OML 🫶🏻🫶🏻
Would you be comfortable with writing a hobie x femreader where Hobie walks in on reader pleasing herself. The rest is up to you
THANK YOU ANON!🫶 Absolutely! Here you go~
NEED A HAND?
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PAIRING: HOBIE BROWN X FEM!READER
GENRE: SMUT, FLUFF, ENEMIES TO LOVERS?
WORD COUNT: 2.4K
WARNINGS: MASTURBATION, VAGINAL FINGERING, CUNNILINGUS, VAGINAL SEX, DEGRADATION + PRAISE, SPITTING, ‘ANGRY SEX,’ FLUFFY AT THE END
AUTHORS NOTE: I DECIDED TO GO WITH A DYNAMIC WHERE HOBIE AND READER HAVE A COMPETITIVE RELATIONSHIP IN HQ, BUT THEY WANT EACHOTHER
SYNOPSIS: HOBIE WALKS IN ON YOU TOUCHING YOURSELF WHILE MOANING HIS NAME—DIDN’T YOU SAY YOU HATED HIM?
“Hobie fucking Brown with his stupid fucking voice, and his freakishly long fingers! His…his annoying smirk, and his obnoxious fucking style, god!” You groan, stripping out of your clothes furiously and staring down at your underwear—You were wet, actually fucking horny because Hobie decided today was a good day to test your limits. He didn’t do anything necessarily crazy, he just sat right next to you, manspreading with his leg pressed against yours, slinging his arm around your shoulder and placing his hand on your inner thigh when he got up to leave, whispering a deep,
“Y’look absolutely ravishing today.” In your ear like it was no big deal! Who the fuck does that? You’ve both always been sort of competitive with eachother on missions, personalities clashing when you work together. He likes to throw half-mean-half-flirty remarks at you and you like to shut it down. That’s how it goes—but today? Straight up flirting? You couldn’t handle it. You instantly got on your bed and pulled your rose toy out of your night stand, turning it on and spreading your legs.
You felt a little ashamed of yourself, but the moment you felt those sweet vibrations on your clit it all just melted away and thoughts of Hobie between your legs clouded your vision, your heart racing and your skin dampening,
“Fuckkk~” You groan, throwing your head back and panting at the feeling, “Yes, Hobie. Eat my fucking pussy, fuck~” Your moans get louder, the sensations on your most vulnerable spot making you writhe. You can’t stop thinking of Hobie. You think of his face and how good he’d look naked on top you—or his tongue deep inside you after whispering pure filth in your ear, or his piercings and how good they’d feel on your folds—you think of it all, your eyes clamping shut and your free hand hiking your leg up higher by the back of your knee. Your pussy clenched around nothing, your mouth opening as you moan,
“Fuck me, Hobie...”
“Am I interrupting—?”
You cut him off with a gasp, scrambling to clamp your legs shut and cover your breasts. Your mind raced…
What. The. Fuck.
Hobie is standing in a portal in front of your bed, walking through it smugly with his hands in his pockets. He looks shocked, but he’s doing a decent job of remaining calm and collected. You on the other hand…you don’t know how to explain anything, your vibrator still buzzing on your bed and covered in your juices,
“Well isn’t this’a sight f’sore eyes…?” He chuckles, “Here I was thinking you hated my bloody guts but now look at ya…all hot and bothered. Did my teasin’ earlier make your pretty pussy wet? Y’look pretty frustrated y’know, need a hand?” He smirks, slowly removing his guitar and vest. He looks incredibly tall in your room, towering over you on your bed and as he slowly removes his clothes. You finally muster up to the courage to speak,
“What the fuck are you doing in here?” You ask, your pussy throbbing at the sight of his toned and smooth skin, his abs and v-line exposed for your hungry eyes to swallow like prey. You genuinely can’t believe what’s happening right now but even worse you can’t believe how much you’re liking it! You literally can’t tear your gaze off of him as he strip-teases for you. You knew you couldn’t fuck him…you work with him! You’re one of Headquarters best and here you were, horny and desperate for a delinquent anarchist…but good god his dick was massive!
He pulled his boxers down and what had to be just shy of ten inches of rock hard dick popped out, springing up just for you. Your mouth gaped open and you shamelessly stared,
“Texted you to tell you there was a change’a plans in tomorrows mission but you weren’t respondin’ so I figured i’d just stop by and tell ya—never knew you’d be flicking the bean and moaning out my name.” He smirks devilishly, coming towards the edge of your bed. He knows you want this by the look in your eyes and the way you let your legs fall open, but he needs to be sure,
“May I?” His voice comes out in a special deep kind of way that you’ve never heard before and your pussy clenches, your spidey senses going wild. You know he feels it cause one of his eyes squints, the strong feeling tugging at his senses, and he smirks when you whine,
“Fuck, yes, p-please just—“
“Shhh relax love, i’ve got you.” Hobie whispers, crawling on top of you and roughly spreading your thighs with a grunt, planting a kiss right on your sensitive clit. He pauses for a moment, locking eyes with you before sucking on it like a lollipop. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and your hands twitch, the feeling making you shake,
“O-Oh fuck…Hobie, y-you suck at this.” You lie through your needy sounds, your hands reaching towards his head and thrusting his face deeper against you, the slightly shocked look in his eyes fueling your need and making you feel like you were in charge for a moment. Hobie pops off of you with ease despite your strength, and he web shoots your wrists above your head in a matter of seconds,
“Since y’were begging f’me, I think i’ll just take control, yeah?” Hobie smirks, his lips latched onto your clit instantly, kissing and slurping on it sensually—delivering you the most pleasure you had ever felt.
“Y-you’re, mmf!- such an ass, Hobie~” The room felt hot and your skin felt sticky, his teasing gaze at your words making your pussy gush. You tried to fight back the moans, panting and squirming at his every touch. Hobie wanted to hear you. He slapped your thigh, a yelp escaping from your lips as he slurped you up like you were his last meal. He got all kinds of revved up from your pettiness, rutting his dick into the sheets as he proved to you that not even you knew your body like this,
“You like that don’tcha love?” Hobie growls into your pussy as he does absolutely sinful things with his tongue, things that you didn’t know were possible—the moans were becoming so hard to bite back. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his nose and tongue. Hobie felt the way you pulsated and when he looked at you and saw your eyebrows furrowed the way they were, he knew you were close,
“Give it to me, Y/N, I want it all.” He groans, his tongue working like a machine on your clit, steady rapid pace flicking it just the way you needed to cum all over his face, squirting like you never have before. Your back arched and you tried to hide your face by turning, embarrassed at how fast you came from just Hobie’s tongue. You knew he’d get a kick out of it, and sure enough,
“That good love? Couldn’t have even been more than 5 minutes.” He laughs but he kisses your thighs, licks up the mess, and then reaches for your face. You were surprised when his hands came to your jaw and he looked into your eyes—He kind of looked like he was going to kiss you.
That was when you felt his tip at your entrance, prodding and pushing in. You couldn’t even try to keep quiet, and you could look away as he held your face and his half lidded eyes bored into yours. It was sadistic, that look he gave you while your eyes widened and watered, your lips parting as pained moans spill from your lips—he was huge and he knew it.
“How’s that feel, doll?” He whispers, eyes never leaning yours as he thrusts himself all the way inside your tight cunt. You’re so wet that he doesn’t even have to try to move, his dick ramming inside you like a piston. In contrast, he gently smooths his thumbs over the balls of your cheeks, watching every expression that strikes your features,
“Y-You’re too big—“ You moan, your eyelids twitching and fluttering as your body turns to jelly. You had never felt something so filling in your whole life…of course Hobie had to have the biggest dick you’d ever felt…there was no sly remark you could possibly throw at him when you were breathless just from the first couple of thrusts,
“You’re taking it so well though, hm? Such a good girl.” Hobie groans, sliding his hands down your body and kissing your neck while he grips your hips, “You feel so fucking good. You’re so dirty touching yourself at the thought of me and spreading your legs like a whore at the sight’v my dick,” He grunts out through his moans, thrusting into you and making your whole bed shake. You physically can’t handle the praise and degradation that he throws at you all at once,
“H-Hobie…you’re so fucking annoying!”
“Oh yeah? I’m annoying? Well you’re sobbing on my dick right now, not a good look is it, love?”
You can’t even think as Hobie pulls almost entirely out of you before thrusting into you full speed, leaving you choking on your breaths for a moment. He looks right into your eyes, repeating the same rhythm and smirking at your needy sounds—the way you can’t help but cry out in pleasure each and every time,
“What was that?” He asks, mock pity in his voice, “Too fucked out to answer hm?”
You tug at your restrains, pleasured tears spilling from your eyes as your turn your head, moans tearing out of your throat,
“I-Mmm~ Fuck…Hobie!~ I-I hate you!”
At this, Hobie just comically tilts his head. He knows you don’t hate him, the way your heart beats out of your chest and your ankles lock around his back as he fucks you—even the way you tease him or yell at him—it’s full of want and need…desire even. His pace never relents as he massages your hips, his deep voice making your heart drop,
“Look at me.”
You don’t. You feel embarrassed at how easily he’s gotten you into this submissive state when you’re one of the strongest people at HQ. You just moan and cry, grunting in frustration with every drag of his dick deep inside you,
“Y/N, look at me.” Hobie says in a sultry tone, voice filled with lust. You feel his chill hand creep up to your jaw, refocusing your gaze on him as he snaps into you at a brutal pace, hitting your sweet spot and making your pussy drip. When your eyes lock on his, he looks absolutely irresistible. There’s a sheen layer of sweat clinging to every inch of his skin, and there’s a glow to his features that you had always seen but never like this. You just want him. You have him but you need him. You need him and he needs you, the hand on your jaw tightening as he brings his thumb up to your lips, pulling your lips open. Hobie leans down, thrusting into you and making your bed creak as he spits right onto your tongue. It stuns you like a slap on the face, but it turns you on like nothing before. Your pussy clenches impossibly tighter around Hobie and you swallow his spit, groaning gutturally,
“You’re so fucking nasty.” He groans at the sight, pressing your knees down beside you and thrusting into you with fervor,
“You’re no better.” Is all you say, trying to sound steady even though you’re a mess for him. You’re digging your nails into his back and dragging them down his smooth skin, begging him to go faster as your body convulses. You’re both breathless in passion, too scared to admit that this was more than just sex. You want each other in a debilitating way, in a way so strong that it scares you—so you fuck like crazed animals and chase your release together.
Hobie’s ears tingle at the sound of your moans increasing in pitch and volume, his senses ablaze with the feeling of your warm hands on his back and the sight of your intoxicated gaze. He looks down at you as you throw your hands around his neck and spill pretty noises from your parted lips. Hobie doesn’t know what comes over him but as he nears his orgasm, he leans down slowly, closing the gap between the two of you. There’s no excuse ready in his mind when he sees your eyes flicker from his lips to his eyes and back, knowing that you want him as much as he wants you.
“Hobie?” You ask, voice full of need and confusion. You’re feeling desperate, on the edge from him so deep inside you, the pleasure building and your head spinning—but now…now he looks like he’s going to kiss you and that scares you. Not because you don’t want it but because you do. Your heart races as one of his hands finds its way behind your head and the other under your jaw.
“I want to kiss you...I-I really want to kiss you.” His words come out huskily, and his gaze softens as he’s about to cum.
You say nothing. You just hold him in the same endearing way and close the gap, pressing your lips against his gently—a juxtaposition to how his hips desperately ram against yours as you both cum, moaning into the kiss and desperately trying to taste each other, afraid of what comes when the moment is over. Hobie’s eyebrows furrow and he struggles to kiss back, releasing himself inside you before he pulls you up and into his lap, still deep inside. Your naked bodies are moving in tandem—lust, need, hunger, desire, desperation, fear, and love. When you finally break the kiss, you’re both breathless. He looks into your eyes and you look into his. You want nothing more than to shy away from him answering to never have to speak of this…but you both know there’s no going back now. He gently strokes your back, his hold on you secure and comforting. He tore your walls down and destroyed you, and now you’re completely on display for him. It doesn’t feel bad…it feels surprisingly natural to be with him like this.
He holds you close, his chin on your head. You feel the deep vibrations on his vocal cords in his chest as he speaks, “You don’t actually hate me do you?” He chuckles.
“No.” You quickly say, mumbling with your cheek pressed against him, “I think we both knew that though, Hobie.”
@ohxx @luxxtuxx @fatenpara
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urdinosaurs · 8 months
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for anybody wondering, when referencing the fanart of hobie concept art (mostly in rockstar!hobie fics with his band) this is what i mean:
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(art credits: stillindigo on twitter)
these are the visuals i use and i know there are other writers who reference this too!!!
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clemleur · 10 months
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sharing is caring - hobie brown
instead of seeing hobie as the possessive type, i imagine him to be the type to show you off
consistently claiming that a pretty peng ting like you deserves to be showcased any and everywhere
and that starts with his friends
it starts with him pulling you backstage to meet his other band mates, all very fine darkskin men who seem to adore you although you never met
one of them pulls you to sit next to him on the couch, that smells closest to weed and alcohol, and makes sure he pulls you close
another sits beside you and puts his hand on your knee, making you feel somewhat comforted, unsure prior to meeting them that they would like you
it becomes a little more heated when you’ve been pulled, inch by inch, onto the fifth and final bandmates lap, realizing that a circle’s being formed around you, effectively trapping you in
at some point, you realize what’s happening when the hand that was previously on your knee has been moved to your inner thigh, inching dangerously close to your cunt that’s getting wetter upon your realization
you look to hobie who’s sitting in front of you, who’s already staring at you and you realize that all conversation has stopped in trade of staring at the two of you
“if you want it to stop just say the word and everything gets shut down, understand?” hobie says, now on his knees in front you
the meeting ends with the memories of someone’s cock down your throat, taking it the way you would hobies, who’s arguably larger than the one that’s cumming down your throat for the second time
the meeting ends with you bent over that same couch, going boderline stupid with how deep they were in your pussy, making wet noises that paired with a puddle underneath you from when hobie was sucking on your clit and made you squirt (to losen you up in his words)
it, finally, ends with hobie wiping cum off your face, from when two of his bandmates stood over you and told you to open that “pretty mouth” and seconds later, was told to close it and swallow everything that actually made it into your mouth
and later that night when your reminiscing about how they helped you to your feet and back into your clothes with a kiss to your head (and if they could sneak it, one to your lips) you wondered if next time, you could convince them to fill you up the way you mentioned to hobie when the idea first came to mind
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fusaes · 11 months
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if your request r still open— what about Hobie and his crazy in love gf— her being so obsessed and in love with her boyfriend and coming to his house and lifting her shirt and hobie thinking she’s just needy and horny but she’s showing him how she got his name tatted on her, maybe a tramp stamp or something
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𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐘 - ft. hobie brown / spiderpunk
🎸、 . *. ⋆ spanking, mentions of tattoos (reader), poor attempt at British slang. lmk if there's more! ✧. word count: 453
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The doorknob squeaks when your hands touched it, almost as if it feared your presence in Hobie's house. Yes, you did come uninvited; but Hobie said he'd welcome you in whenever you wanted right? Obviously, who would turn down such an offer?
Hobie was in the living room, strumming his guitar with his spiky headphones. The floors creak when Hobie's kicks landed on them, he was generous enough to let you wear them whenever you wanted.
You were wearing his sweater, shoes, and the ring he made for you. He was oblivious enough to not notice you, but the smirk that grew on his face only proved you wrong.
'''Ya can't go a day without me, huh?'' Hobie told you, still tuning his guitar with his feet kicked on the sofa. ''Mm, I really can't Hobie.'' You tell him, your hands behind your back. If it wasn't evident enough (It really wasn't.) you came to show Hobie your new 'tat that you got done today.
But it seemed like Hobie had something else in mind.
''Sit'' Hobie separated his arms and invited you into his lap. ''Hobie... Not right now, silly.'' Your words made Hobie's brow turn upwards, you usually come at this time specifically and come at his house to have some sex.
''Why not, darl?'' The nickname made you shiver, his deep and raspy voice only enticing you further. But you were too excited to show Hobie your new tattoo that you got done specifically for him.
You didn't say anything when you took off Hobie's sweater, showing off your low-rise jeans that almost expose your ass and thong. You only wore a bra, so the tattoo wouldn't get covered.
There it was. It wrote; 'Hobie' right on the slope of your ass. Hobie was stunned, to say the least. He almost felt drool dripping out of his mouth, even. He pulled you in his lap almost instantly when he laid eyes on the ink tainted on your body.
''Fuck, princess. You couldn't have gotten any hotter.'' Hobie kissed your back, trailing downwards to the tattoo. His hand slaps your left cheek, firm and slender hands landing on your ass. You let out a small whimper, it only made your panties a lot more soaked than it was.
''Hobie...'' ''Want me to bend you over and fuck you from the back, hm? 'Wanna see my name bounce on your ass.'' His hands toyed with the flesh of your butt, his nails trailing on his name.
You moan in response, grinding on Hobie's thigh.
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might write a part two to this with full smut ! ‧₊˚ ⋅ fusaes 2023 do not copy
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keisobe · 10 months
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all i can just think of are fluffy hobie headcanons w reader who has glasses 🗣️🗣️🗣️ like they would be making out and hobie would be complaining about reader's glasses just keeps knocking on his face (definitely did not think of this because i wear glasses)
— okay as a fellow glasses wearer, i loved this idea sooo much (// ^ ^ //) ♥︎
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hobie thinks your glasses are adorable. he has these moments when he’s admiring you and noticing the tiniest details. his favorite one is when your glasses slowly slip to the tip of your nose and you huff in annoyance— pushing them back up. hobie thought it was funny, but he came to find himself adjusting them for you.
with delicate fingers, hobie pushes up your glasses by the hinges until they perfectly frame your face— softly brushing a knuckle over your cheek as a way to ease your irritation.
“wha’ me to get you some goggles instead?” hobie quipped under his breath, brushing your hair behind your ears.
you simply rolled your eyes with a cheesed smile, to which hobie would playfully pinch your cheek as you continue to work.
blessed with perfect vision, hobie had no concept on what it’s like to be forced to wear glasses.
“how many fingers am i holdin’ up?” he would extend three fingers in front of your face, dragging his arm in different directions and distances.
when you tell him that’s not how it works, hobie would simply shrug his shoulders with a lazy smirk.
“wrong. the answer ‘s two.” he would obnoxiously bend his ring finger and wave it on your heated face— earning him a smack to the chest.
and yes, making out with your glasses really gets on hobie’s nerves.
a soft sigh would spill from your lips as hobie grazes his teeth along your neck— his mouth coming back to slot themselves back into its place. he leans in for another kiss and immediately comes contact with the foggy lens of your glasses.
“for fuck’s sake.” he hisses in exasperation, snatching them off your face but still being mindful not to touch your lens, he tossed them on the nearest soft surface.
before you could whine about him handling your glasses like a madman, hobie cups your cheeks and briskly pressed his lips against yours— knocking all the wind out of your lungs. you nearly tipped over by his desperate advancement until hobie wraps a firm grasp around your waist, pulling you closer with a satisfied hum.
“y’know nothin’ can keep me away from you.” he would breathe out in between heated pecks.
but sometimes, hobie doesn’t know the extent to his own strength.
“‘s just a dent babe…” hobie would look apologetic when you patch the temple with lousy tape— your pout making him feel guilty.
he nervously grasped the lenses from your hands and placed them on your face. cringing at the way the lenses slowly tilted to the side as a deep frown settled onto your face.
“see your specs still look… fine.”
don’t worry, he got you a new pair afterwards.
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KEISOBE © 2023. please do not copy, translate, or modify any of my work. all of my works are not permitted to be posted on any other sites.
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