#Hobie brown x blackcat!reader

[eyesxxyou]

My Hero

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. until you find your life in danger because you stole something you shouldn't have

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, a bit of sub!hobie, riding, reverse cowgirl, oral (m receiving) a bit of anal play not much though, hobie being kinda whiny and needy.

You always had a way of coming back into Hobie’s life when he needed you to the very least. Just when he was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t head over heels obsessed with the Black Cat as he thought he was, that he’d be able to look at you one day and not have the irresistible urge to kiss you and take you wherever the two of you might be, whether you be allies or enemies that day. He’d think that smile of yours, filled with chaos and mischief, framed in the silver fangs of your piercings, was just like any other, and that he didn’t have every inch of your body committed to memory.

Then you’d pop back up from wherever you spent your down time and bring back with you all the emotions he thought he had discarded in the rubbish bin down the street as well as your usual additional bullshit that he always played his own part in. That’s how you ended up in his very own bed, his real bed, the one he sleeps in every night, in just a thong and a baby tee that says 'I love (the love is a heart) to make men cry' as your hair now black as the night sky.

He never told you where he lived. No one would have assumed that the vigilante Spider-Man would live on a canal boat. But you were smart, crafty. If anyone were to figure it out, it would have been you.

Hobie was just swinging back on to his docked boat when he felt the familiar tingle of his spidey-senses going off. The prickling of his hair standing as his body moved by its own fruition. He leapt out of the way just before one of your knives could catch him. It came from overhead, the top of his boat where you perched yourself. The knife lodged itself in the wooden deck between his booted feet and he looked up at you.

There it was. All those feelings. They disgusted him but he loved you. He loved your slightly violent ways of showing love that never leave him wounded for long. Your usually pure white hair now raven black in wild curls, bad luck and even worse intentions radiating off of you. The smallest twinkle of fondness in your eyes as you look at him with that grin of yours.

“You always gotta try ‘n kill me every time we meet?” Hobie asks you at you drop down from your perch in front of him with the agility of a cat and snatch up your knife from his deck. You’re in regular clothes with a duffle bag tossed over your shoulder and cat-ish makeup on your pretty face. “I never try to kill you, hon. Just testing your reflexes.” You tucked your knife away, Your hand coming to rest on his chest affectionately. “Miss me, Bee?”

Always. “‘Aven’ crossed ma min’, luv.” He spoke gruffly. You looked up at him with knowing eyes. “I missed you too.” You got up on your toes, your hand coming to the nape of his neck to pull him close and kiss him, a friendly hello to make up from your aggressive one. Hobie kissed you back immediately, didn’t even have to think about it, how body did all the work for him. He knew he should be asking questions. How the fuck did you figure out where he lived for one. But oh— it’s like you knew that kissing him would make him nice, malleable, agreeable, and dumb. Hobie’s not dumb. He’d wise up quick so you had to beat him to the punch.

“I need your help, Hobes.” You murmured against his lips before he kissed you once again in sloppy play fighting with your tongues. “I’m in trouble.”

“When are you no’?” He left out in a slight breathless chuckle, finally pulling away. Wised up. “Wha’cha do?”

You nipped softly at your bottom lip, containing a slight smile. But if he wasn’t mistaken, there was a bit of fear behind those eyes. “I stole something I shouldn’t have.”

“Those are the only thin’ worth stealin’.”

“Bad people are after me, Hobie, and I need a place to lay low for a little bit.” Your lips twitched a little. Yes, definitely fear. “I need help and I heard Spider-Man is in the business of helping people.” It was definitely a shot at your pride. You hated admitting you needed help, spent years drowning because you denied everyone's attempts to throw you a life raft. Hobie knew you’d rather stab yourself in the foot. And that meant this was serious.

"Come on, le's ge' inside."

And that's why you're here in his bed, because the fear of being suffocated in your sleep in your own home left you paranoid. Hobie settled down beside you in his narrow bed with his arm tossed behind his head, the action pulling his shirt up just enough to reveal his naval and that beautiful happy trail leading down his low-hanging sweatpants. "Wha'cha take?"

"Nosey much?" Yet, you cozied up right beside him in his rather cushy bed. You liked the way he smelled, like musk and sweat and the faint hint of faded body wash. Some days, depending on the activities, he smelt metallic, like blood, and you loved that even more. You love his sharp, stoic beauty. Loved his hair and the unmarked flesh of his neck that was usually either bruised or cut in some way. Sometimes done by your own hand.

Hobie's hand was on your thigh, the pads of his fingers messaging your flesh as he looked at your face, dimly lit by the waning moonlight reflecting off the broad ocean and glittering into your face. Your lips were wet, full, pouty. Your eyes sharp and piercing. He could see the pretty peaks of your nipples beneath your shirt. He wanted to run his thumb across them, call you his pretty girl. Mumble into your mouth incoherent words of ignorant admiration. "You came t'me, lovie. I feel I gotta righ' to know wha' kinda trouble you're in."

You two couldn't keep your grubby paws off of each other, always stealing touches, slight caresses like you two were fooling anyone. Every fluid movement between you two, always playing off each other's last, was done like something of a ritualistic dance. You take something from him, he takes it back, whether by hand or by web, you get up close and with both of your quick instincts you're fighting over the objects of your desire, seeing who's wit will prevail in the end. Your banter often followed the same routine.

"Well, I feel I have the right to reserve that info. Jus' do your job, pretty boy. Keep me safe so people don't come and ruin this pretty face you like so much." You pull him close and place a soft kiss on his slender cheek before dropping the matter all together. "But— I am very grateful for your kindness. My hero." You press your lips against the shell of his ear, peppering kisses against his skin.

You shuffled about in his bed, maneuvering between his legs with your hands against his sweatpants to pull them down. "I want to thank you."

Hobie let out a breathy chuckle as you worked to pull his cock out from his pants. "I don't need thanks, par' of ma job, but I won' refuse one." Not with lips like yours and a sharp tongue that could turn so, so soft when put to good use.

Your hands held his half-hard cock, twitching with the pumping blood that made him grow harder by the second, and you stroked him softly, gathering saliva to spit on his tip and spread down his length. Hobie shuttered under your touch, looking down at you through hooded lids as his tongue poked out to wet his lip then nip at it. "Go easy." He murmured, knowing he mercilessly beat his cock earlier to the thought of you, not knowing when he might see that pretty body of yours again.

You always start so slow, feigning a sort of innocence about the way you kiss his leaking tip and suckle on it as you look up at him through your long lashes. You'd keep going on like this forever if you had the choice but Hobie was impatient and restless. Grunting with pleasure and disapproval, he'd tuck his fingers in the curls of your hair and get a nice, firm grasp before pushing your head down further.

You'd relent, let your jaw slack so he could sink his cock further into your mouth, the sensitive tip of his dick dragging across the plain of your tongue. He'd let out something of a strangled, choking whimper before biting his lip. "Fuckin'-" He'd let out in a breathy moan as his head would fall back and he'd guide you head up and down the length of his cock.

It happened every time and this was no different other than the slight way from the waves rocking the boat. His fingers were in your hair, guiding your movements as his dick slid along your tongue against your throat. "Goo', kitty." He stroked your head and pulled your head away to stroke the tip of his cock against your saliva-coated lips.

You took him all the way to the hilt, let him settle down your throat before swallowing. It drove him crazy, made him shiver as he pressed your face to his pelvis and coaxed you to do it again. You swallowed and swallowed before pulling your head back and swirling your tongue against the head of his cock. You bobbed your head at a nice, steady pace, reveling in every hiss that escaped his dark, pretty lips.

He was losing himself to you, to that mouth, to that dark gaze of yours. Head like this made him fall in love. Made him completely mad for you. And oh, you were bad, so bad and he needed you. He needed to be inside you, needed you in top of him.

Hobie moaned softly. "Come'ere." He pulled you off his cock and pulled you up the length of his body.

You kissed him, hand stroking his length in gentle strokes while you sat on his thighs. His tongue found yours, your teeth nipped at his full lip. "You like to pretend you don't miss me but you gotta miss head like that."

"You have no idea, luv."

You climbed further on top of him, kneeling above him with your hands caressing the sides of his pretty face. "Just lay back and let me thank you, hmm? I'm not always so grateful." You pushed him back against his few pillows. Hobie lied with a hand behind his head, watching as you got up and turned around to give him a nice view of your ass from behind.

You pulled your thong to the side, that pretty pussy of yours on display for him, nice and wet. You reached back and took him into you hand to drag the thick of his cock between your pussy lips, stroking your aching clit with his tip. You got him nice and wet with the creamy juices of your cunt before lining him up against your wanting entrance.

He slid in so nicely, the tip stretched your nether lips apart. Your back arched subtly as you pushed your ass back more and let him sink deeper within you. Hobie pulled a single hand from behind his head and grabbed a handful of your ass to get a better view,

That pussy of yours could make a grown man weep. So wet, so tight, so mind-numbingly soft. You knew how to move your hips in just the right fashion to make him want to cum inside every single time. Just the sight of your lips hugging his cock was enough to make him crumble in ways no other could make him. He’s whimpered for you for fucks sake and one rested in his throat right at this very moment.

You sat in his lap with his member sitting snugly in you. You rocked your hips nice and slow, circling in a way that left you shuddering. Hobie squeezed your ass then smacked it with a sharp swing of his palm. “Don’ start teasin’ now, kitty. Show me.” He pressed his hand against your lower back just enough to get a nice view of his cock inside of you. His thumb rubbed circles against your asshole and earned him something of a whimper.

You placed your hands on his thighs as leverage and raised your hips, moaning at the feeling of his thick cock dragging against your sensitive walls. You went until only the tip remained before sitting back down and taking him in once more.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck!" The last one was long and drawn out as you felt him nuzzle against your cervix and press against that soft place in your walls that made you grip his thighs tight and need him a little more.

Hobie cupped your ass with his hand, this thumb still tentatively rubbing circles against your tight rim of muscles as you took him over against and again. That pretty pussy of yours so idyllic it looked more like a fleshlight than anything. It gripped him like a vice, like a sin, oh you were such a sin and you felt so good.

"Shit, luv– fuck. Treatin' me good f'once aren'cha?"

You rose until your pussy let him go with a nice, wet pop and swiftly turned around to straddle him as you were before. "I can treat you so much better, Hobes." You reached back, let him take your cunt again and watched his face as his brows furrowed and his mouth fell open with the beginnings of a moan.

Your eyes rolled back as he entered you fully, lids fluttering. You stroked his head and rutted your hips against his own, your clit stroking against his pelvis. You moaned softly, looking down at his pretty face looking equally as fucked out.

Hobie's hands grappled at your hips, thighs, and ass, unsure of where he wanted his hands the most. "Keep fuckin' me like tha'." His hands finally settled on your waist, forced you up and down on his cock like his personal sextoy. His hands were under that little baby tee you were wearing, squeezing handfuls and fondling your breasts.

Hobie's head rolled back, his eyes fluttering shut with the pleasure of it all. With a pussy like this, if you asked him to give up being Spider-Man, he would. With a pussy like this, you could ask him anything and he'd agree with you. So nice and tight and wet. He could feel that slick of yours dribbling down his length, rolling in clear pearls over his balls.

You grabbed his jaw and forced him to look at you. "Keep those eyes on me, Bee. Pretty eyes like those, I wanna see'em." Those eyes that look at you in a hooded daze, not a thought in that brain of his just you, you, you. His hands stroked the sides of your body, cupped your tits, grappled at your hips, forced you to fuck him harder.

He reached between your legs and stroked your swollen clit with his digits. He needed you to cum for him, before him, you had conditioned him like Pavlov. He can't cum unless he knows you've cum first. He needs to see that expression of absolute euphoria across your face to finally know relief himself.

"Please cum f'me, luv. Please, please, I need i'. Y'know I do. Please." Hobie panted and begged. And oh the way your pussy squeezed him in segments, pulsing and quivering with the beginnings of an orgasm.

You squeezed his jaw harder, looked him in the eyes with your forehead pressed against his. The tips of your noses touches, the heat of your breath met the others and you felt the desperation in his breath.

He pinched and rolled your clit between his fingers, watched you lose your breath and ride a little harder. "Come on, luv. 'm good fo' i'. Jus' cum f'me." He kept murmuring, watching your expression, playing with the clit he knew from top to bottom. Your pussy was beginning to make a nice, creamy squelch around his cock, your cunt quivering with your climax.

Your hips bucked as you sat in his lap and pulsed around his cock. "Fuck, Hobes. Shit, oh my- fuckin' God." He stroked your clit through your orgasm, your rocking hips milking his dick, a womb begging for his load. You were left shuddering uncontrollably with eyes barely able to stay open. Oh you were high on it, dick like this doesn't come by often and you were intent on enjoying it as you always do.

You fucked him hard, left a creamy ring around the base of his cock, fucked him because you needed him to cum because that was the whole point of this. You liked the face he made when he came. The slight smile, a daze in his gaze, the complete loss of control of every extremity.

He submitted himself entirely to you, let you spit in his mouth, slap his cheek, do whatever you wanted to him because he can feel nothing but the way your pussy milks him for all he's worth.

"My hero," you cooed. Stroking his cock as he came in nice, thick ropes inside you. His large hands squeezed your ass, your thighs, your waist, grappled at you as the very breath got knocked out of him. His lips sought out yours as they always eventually do with a wanton moan. He kissed you like he was in love, all tongue and teeth, all consuming. A kiss that says 'don't leave just yet, let's just sit here'.

You know for certain that he's in love with you and you find it adorable. You could say you reciprocated it, could say you wanted a nice, quiet life with him. But you both knew you weren't built for that, not when your allyship was so unstable and one moment you could be working together for a greater cause and the next you have a knife to his throat and intend on taking a little more than just a little blood. It's never hard feelings, a girl's gotta do what she's gotta do to get ahead under the oppressive eye of fascist government.

Hobie half wondered if you were just here to get the drop on him, make him let his guard down to attack him. There could never be trust between the two of you, not complete trust anyway.

"You know we can't, Bee." You pulled away from him, pulled off of his softening cock and laid down beside him with your thong settling back into place. "As much as I'd love to, you know we're not compatible."

Hobie scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I beg to diffa. We're compatible, we're fuckin' soulmates. I jus' can' figure out if we're sworn to be lovers or enemies." You look up at him, at his distant eyes that don't look back at you but instead out of a narrow window at the silver sea.

"What do you think's gonna happen while I'm here?"

Hobie finally looked down at you, his lips slowly pulling into something of a lopsided smile. "We're gonna fuck a lo', eventually hate each otha a lil' more, still fuck while we hate each otha. You'll probably try t'kill me at some poin' 'n 'm okay wit' i'. But at the end o' the day, I ain' gotta Scooby Doo, mate."

You sit up, lean in, and kiss him. In another universe, you could love him without hindrance. You've tried to love different versions of him but none compare to your Hobie, not even the Prowler Hobie you stumbled upon and made yours for a little while.

No one could compare to your hero.

[l0starl]

Hobie brown x black cat reader

W/c : 477

Warnings : Mentions of blood and injuries, badly written not in his accent

Synopsis : Your injured! So you asked hobie to patch you up, but only this once

Somewhat related to this

Author’s note: Probably not gonna finish that fic 😋 + I should write for hobie more wtf (✏️) — TAGLIST ; fill it out to be apart of it! Taglist : @hobiebrownismygod @daydreaming-en-pointe @kxllanxtdoor @adorefavv @adorinjae

Imagine this, Getting the police off your trail, you find yourself sitting on the rooftop, your hand badly injured, you examine the wound on your palm, you winced at the sight of it, the breeze kissed your skin as you noticed it was awfully quiet…..too quiet.

You knew you couldn’t patch this wound up yourself (Because you didn’t have the money to do so) But you at least knew someone you can…

Hobie

You walked to the dock, the wooden boards creaked with every step you took, making an unpleasant sound, possibly alerting him

You spotted a familiar houseboat, as you knocked on the door three times, the sound of movement inside coming closer as you heard a lock make a series of clicking sounds as the door finally opened.

“Well well well, looks who’s here!” Hobie said in a mocking tone, he knew how easily he can get under your skin

“Cut it out hobie!” You huffed in annoyance “I need your help, “you think you can patch this wound up for me?” As you lifted up your injured palm

“That’s a pretty bad wound ya got there, come inside!” He gestured for you to enter, as he close the door behind him

Inside of the boat was pretty neat, though you weren’t really focus on the appearance, you were mostly trying to convince yourself to not puke while the boat was rocking back and forth

“C’mere” He gestured for you to sit on the couch

You complied as you sat down, he brought out a med kit, gloves, and some rubbing alcohol as he sat beside you

“Give me your hand” You extended your hand towards him, the blood was still dripping out, but at least it wasn’t gushing out

“Oh Bloody hell! It’s worse than I thought”

“WHAT?! How bad?”

“relax I’m just messing with ya” he teased, amused at your frustration

“Not funny hobie! Could you hurry up?” You scoffed but you couldn’t hide a smile

“Alright dove, hold still” he smiled back, putting on the gloves, after that he opened the rubbing alcohol and dipped the cotton ball inside

He rubbed the cotton the wound as you winced a bit at the pain, after cleaning the wound he wrapped it up tightly, though the stinging remained

“There, ya all better now! Or do I have to kiss ya boo boo” He mocked, you rolled your eyes but you chuckled under your breath “Is that so? You want a reward?” You retorted with a smirk

“Maybe I do, what about it?” He smirked mischievously, almost suggesting something

“Alright hobie cut it out!” Your cheeks heat up a bit

“Oh your no fun, maybe a kiss will do?” He suggested once again, as he lifted up your chin, giving you a soft kiss, not too long though but just enough to satisfy you both.

[the-kr8tor]

(Un)Lucky

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Blackcat! GN Reader / Spider-Punk x Blackcat! GN Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: FBW, smut Implied, TW blood, TW violence, TW death, cursing, hurt/comfort. No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader. Idiots in love.

Synopsis: Unlucky in life, unlucky in love. You question your situationship with Spider-Punk.

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Black silhouetted shadows dance around the moon lit mansion, your feet expertly landing on the marbled floors without a sound. Slinking around the fancy beige colored furniture, your focus is on one thing – The safe hidden behind a large modern painting, how very cliché you thought. Swiftly dodging security cameras by climbing up the ceiling using your manicured claws, you finally drop down next to a large pair of concrete doors. You raise your brow at how atrocious it looks compared to the colorful modern paintings you've seen around the mansion.

"God, I hate brutalist architecture" you whispered to no one. 

Bringing out your index finger, you admire your sharp claws for a second before bending down to pick the door's lock. You feel the soft leather of your suit expand at your movement. But before you could pick the lock, you felt a presence behind you. Stopping for a brief moment to slowly grab one of your throwing knives, unclipping it from its holster - you fling it at the presence behind you.

The figure hanging upside down from the ceiling catches the knife's handle gracefully before it could stab him in the face. He lets it fall to the ground, impaling the oak table below.

"Woah, Don't mind me just enjoying the view" the spikes on top of his mask shine in the moonlight, bathing his suit in a soft blue light. 

"Of course it's you, hello to you too, beanpole" You scoff at his appearance, Pretending to be annoyed. 

Spider-punk drops from his web, softly landing on his feet. "I'm offended, after our last encounter I thought we're past the mean nicknames" He detaches the knife embedded into the table and plays with it.

"Oh so that's why you're here, you missed me, web-slinger" your voice saccharin smooth as you confidently stride towards him, your hand reaching out to him, non-verbally asking for your knife back.

"In your dreams, love. The owner hired me to watch over his place, you've been hitting a lot of his friends' places, he figured he's next" he says with a scoff.

Instead of the knife, Hobie puts his hand on your waiting one, You stare at your joined hands, and raise your eyebrows questioningly. Your eyes soften as the whites of his mask widen at his realization. 

"I beg to differ, you dork" you smirk at him. 

He lets go of your hand, and puts the knife on your palm. Hobie's thankful you can't see his face, albeit he still stares at you directly, challenging you to have a go at him like you usually do, you can definitely do better than call him a dork. But you don't for some odd reason.

Putting the knife back in its place you turn your back at him, you continue working at the lock. You bend down again.

"Fuck'n hell, love" he unashamedly groans at the sight of you.

Fully aware of his eyes on your ass. It doesn't bother you, quite the opposite actually, you liked the attention he's giving you, and dare you even say you like the guy. But the words 'I don't like labels' echoes in your mind. You don't like it either, you liked just having fun with him, but the memories of your last encounter with the man behind you keeps playing in your mind. 

The way he kissed and touched you that night, it felt different, a good difference, you think. The entire time It felt like there was an underlying emotion other than lust prevailing that fateful night. You have no idea how to make sense of your situation, or how to feel about him. So you do what you always do, shelf it in the back of your mind, keep piling similar memories on top of it, until one day it bursts out of you like Vesuvius. Hopefully no one's there with you to witness it when it finally happens.

"Oi, cat got your tongue?" His voice snaps you back to reality. You can't see his face with your back turned but you imagined him with a smirk under his mask, the same way you imagined what he would look like. You've only seen the bottom half of his face, the same way he's only seen your face clad in your domino mask. 

"I'm busy" you bite back as you feel for the mechanism to finally unlock with a click. 

"Right, no cat puns when working" he says.

You push the heavy doors, satisfaction on your face. You look over your shoulder to look at him. 

"If you're gonna web me and sell me out to your boss just do it already" you pointedly tell him.

"As much as I'm into the first part, it's a no to the last bit" His comment gets ignored. 

You head inside the office, with Hobie not far behind. You glare at the expansive yet unnecessary room. 

The room's marble flooring is covered in various animal furs, the walls lined with tacky paintings of the owner. A few of the paintings show the greedy man hunting wild animals, you glare at the painting as if your eyes would suddenly cause it to combust into flames. 

"With all the money in the world, he couldn't hire an interior designer?" Hobie grimaces at the various décor around the room. "No cameras" he pointed out.

"Probably to cover his shady dealings with Roxxon" you tell him.

"Tsk, nasty, nasty old man." Hobie finally looks at you taking down the huge painting to reveal the large metal safe. 

He sighs annoyed at your attitude. "Y'know me, cat, I would never actually help people this rich, hell I'd even help you if you asked" 

"Why'd you take the job then?" You ask as you try to crack the safe's code.

Hobie leans against the doorway watching you. "Unfortunately we live in a capitalist society, and I need money to eat. He didn't ask me to catch you anyway, just watch the place. No matter how much I want to burn down this bloody eyesore" And I was hoping to see you again. He also wanted to add.

You didn't bother to reply, you hum at his explanation. You hear the satisfying click of the safe's lock finally unlocking. Why was it so easy?

"What's up with the stick up y –" He cuts himself off.

His spidey-sense kicks in. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion for Hobie, a wave of red hot fear floods his entire body as he sees you slowly open the safe. His mind seems to be stuck in the moment, thankfully his body moves with muscle memory, he swiftly moves away from the doorway, one hand reaches out to web you towards him, his other hand reaches behind him, he webs the wall to pull you both out the room. 

The subsequent explosion can be heard, smoke and ashes fill his vision. The once heavily decorated room now looks like ground zero. 

Hobie's ears are ringing, but he doesn't care, he needs to find you. His eyes pull towards the room where they were both in. The large concrete doors closed, their edges burned from the explosion. The force from the explosion must've closed it.

The heavy doors accidentally saved them, he didn't have time to think how it happened, he just needed to find you, he needed to know that you were okay.

He screams your alias with a gutteral screech. Hobie stands up, his stance wavers but he continues on. He winces when some of his blood gets into his eye, realizing his mask now torned up from the side, only hiding half of his face. His eyes roam around the damaged mansion looking for your figure, his eyes stop once again to the concrete doors. 

His heart sinks at his realization.

"No, no, no!" He limps towards the large doors.

He didn't notice if his web actually reached you in time to pull you both out. 

He pulled and pushed at the comically large doors. It doesn't move.

Hobie's mind plays tricks on him, he keeps seeing in his mind's eye - your charred body, skin turned to ash, eyes burned into your sockets, your jaws permanently set in a scream. His own mind mocks him. Hobie ignores the vision. He kicks and screams for the doors to magically open.

He has no idea how long it has been since the explosion, with his ears still ringing, smoke and dust clinging around the room. His hope dwindles. 

Hobie falls to his knees, eyes unblinking and wide, crimson seeps from the cut on his head. He ignores it and just stares blankly at the gray doors.

It was his fault.

He can't believe he left you, he was too slow. Of all the people in the world why you. Memories of you keep playing in his mind, trying to push away the image of your death.

In his stupor he doesn't notice a shadow enveloping him, arms finding its way to his shoulder hugging his twitching form. For a second he thought you were haunting him.

He finally gets a grip on reality and looks behind his shoulder.

Your domino mask now clinging to one side, mirroring his own damaged mask. Blood seeps from the side of your cheek. Your eyes are dull but open. 

Your eyes are open.

He turns around lightning fast, Hobie clings to you like velcro. His shoulders sag from the relief, as if he can finally breathe again. You sigh at the contact, and let out a small laugh. 

"Oi, what's so funny" he pulls away from you slightly, he looks at your head to assess the damage. 

"I'm not brain damaged," you smile at his concern, you grab his face, cradling it. "I'm fine, we're both fine, you saved me" you look at each other, affection prominent in every crevice of your bodies.

You both now have a clear view of each other's faces. 

"You look better than I imagined," he softly says. 

You giggle at his comment "And you look so much cooler than I thought, it's unfair, I thought I was the cool one" 

"I was this cool the whole time" he teases. 

You grab his neck to carefully put your foreheads together. To calm the lingering tension from it, you rub circles on his skin, In turn Hobie cranes his neck to look at your lips asking for permission. You nod and let him ground you both back to reality with his kiss. 

Hobie reluctantly pulls away "Let's go before they find us, yeah?" He helps you stand up. "You up for a swing 'round the city?"

You give him your signature smirks "your place or mine?" 

"Yours" he grabs your waist. "There's a first time for everything right?"

"Oh you're gonna love my cats" You smile wildly, you don't know if your face hurts from the cut on your cheek or from smiling too much. 

He memorizes the look on your face as if, all of this was just a dream, and he'll forget what you looked like once he wakes up. He grabs you by the waist, and swings out of the wreckage. Just in time before sirens could get closer to the mansion.

As you swing away towards your home, you think about where your relationship currently lies. There might not be a label for your relationship yet, or what this all means in the future. But at least now you know how he truly feels, how you feel.

As for the bastard who tried to blow you both up, revenge can wait, for she is patient.

You'll think about everything later, but right now you enjoy the moment as you cling to him.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading it! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♥️

[the-kr8tor]

Hobie Brown x blackcat! reader

*tw blood, tw injury*

No thoughts, head empty. Imagine Hobie finding you on a random balcony, bleeding and smoking. He hops next to you. Reading the room, he doesn't acknowledge that you're bleeding since you're uncharacteristically quiet. He notices that you don't want to talk, but since you didn't tell him to fuck off, he stays. Moments pass and you silently offer him a cigarette, he lifts up his mask a little to put the cigarette on his lips. The only lighter you have conveniently is not working, so you grab his neck to light his cigarette with yours still on your lips. You're so close he can smell the iron from your injury mixed with your familiar perfume. You hold eye contact. Imagine for the first time you render Spider-Punk speechless. 

[eyesxxyou]

I wanna write pt.2 to fun and games so bad. Hobie x blackcat!reader was just so 💋. I really cooked up with that one ngl

[eyesxxyou]

Fun & Games

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

synopsis. you and Hobie have long been playing the game of cat and spider. you chase, you fight, you fuck, you fight again, and you two love your games. but it's truly all fun and games until you manage to get your hands on an interdimensional device.

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🐾warning: p in v sex, unprotected sex don't do that children, possessive!hobie, public sex, y/n is a real hoe and I love her for that, odd love hate relationship, clit slapping, Gwen's here very briefly, wall sex, bondage, mentions of injury, just me being horny so it's kinda horribly written, lemme know if I missed anything

"She's gotta be somewhere." Gwen sat perched on a ledge, the eyes of her mask wide and alert for any sign of the anomaly. In other words, you. You had somehow managed to get your hands on a interdimensional device of Miguel's making and have been hopping all around the multiverse causing mayhem. "You sure you have no idea where she's at? She's from your dimension after all, not to mention-"

The thing is, the devices don't show exact locations. They just tell you what dimension others are in. Leaving Gwen and Hobie hopping about right after you to put you back where you belong.

It was Hobie's fault after all. Being the Black Cat of his dimension meant you were good at sleight of hand. A single run in with you and next thing he knows his device is gone, his cock is hard, and he misses you so fucking much.

"Yeah, yeah, i's my fault or whateva." He spoke over the communicator, his eyes scanning across the streets for just a peek of that brilliant white hair of yours. "I'll keep an eye out, jus' stay where you are and don't underestimate 'er. She'll put you on ya arse before ya know it." He's gone toe to toe with you plenty of times to know that you're rather skilled in combat. And for reasons he'd also know that you're flexible.

He cut off his device, the one Miguel reluctantly gave him after laying into him over his incompetence. "You're gonna deal with this mess you've made!" He almost crushed the device in his hand from gripping it so hard as he pushed it into Hobie's chest. "You get her back to where she belongs then you're out. You're done."

Hobie honestly couldn't give less of a damn about being booted from the society. Taking orders and being a part of a team was really cramping his style. Preferred it when it was just him and his own dimension's problems.

He hopped between buildings in this dimension looking for any marker of you. Your cloud-like hair done always in wild, untamed curls that somehow manage to sit perfect around your face. You wore black leather, nice sharp spikes, claws you made yourself that left their scar against his chest as well as down his back.

Hobie liked how complicated your relationship is. How you constantly kept him on his toes, remained so inconsistent that he never got bored. One second you were on your knees, his cock weighing heavy on your pretty tongue, just narrowly missing the angel bite piercings you had with fangs in, and the next, you were trying to claw his eyes out of his face. You were batshit fucking insane and he was absolutely in love with you though, he'd never admit that.

He hoped he found you before Gwen did— it's been just a little under a month and he's been feening for you, spending his lonely nights when he doesn't have a million wounds and a few broken bones to tend to with his hand wrapped firmly around his cock and your name wetting his lips with prayer. He's fucking pussy-whipped, desperate, absolutely nuts for you.

And when he finds you (which he always does somehow), you're hopping across a rooftop and sliding down a gutter into a nearby alleyway. He follows you stealthily, lingering in the shadows as he rounds the corner and drops into the shady alley. But he finds you aren't there. He pauses, talks a moment to let his instincts take the lead.

It just took a second, a small tingle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing but he hardly had any time to react before you were on his back with your claws pressed against his throat. "Ya missed me?" You whispered in his ear with the touch of a smile in your voice.

Hobie moved quickly, pushing the both of you back until your back slammed against the jagged brick wall and your grip loosened just enough for him to pry himself out of your clawed hold. He webbed you up with your hands trapped above your head. Your goggles were already pushed up into your wild hair and your cat-like eyes gleamed at him. "I'd say you do."

Hobie reached up and pulled off his mask. “Nice to see ya too, Y/N. We can have our reunion once ya back where ya belong.”

“Never took you as the type to join a committee of interdimensional spider fascist.” You scoff, wriggling your wrist against the binding of his webs but you know all too well how strong they actually are. Many times have you been caught in his web, bent in all sorts of positions. He’s always been your favorite toy.

“No’ by choice. You did me a fava’ actually, they gave me the boot ‘cause of you.” He came close, his tall, lean stature looming over you as he removed the watch from your wrist and deactivated it. Hobie looked down at you, looking into your sultry eyes that told him you just wanted to sit on his dick then make your grand escape. You’re always dressed in leather, your shorts so tight and small it leaves hardly anything to the imagination. You were wearing those torn up, distressed tights he loved so much and that he’s definitely torn his own fair share of holes in.

“Don’t you want to know why I went to the places I did?”

“There’s a reason?” He thought it was just you fucking around, trying to cause as much mayhem as possible, begin a nice little collection of diamonds stolen from different dimensions. Your motivations were always a bit hard to decipher.

You leaned in as close as you could in the position you were stuck in and whispered to him, “All the dimensions I went to had a version of you in them. I wanted to see which one was my favorite.” It was a confession of sin just between the two of you in this dark little alleyway he had you stuck in. “Would you like me to tell you about the other yous I’ve met?” You took his stoic silence as answer enough.

“There was one with the prettiest eyes. One blue and one brown. I got to look in them while I rode his pretty face. He made me cum so hard.” Your voice was so heavy with the memory of it but you didn’t linger. “And the other one, nice, long locs. He fucked me so good my legs were shaking. Oh- and the other one made me squirt for the first time-”

Your descriptions sparked something primal in Hobie, something carnal and possessive. A part of him was aroused at the thought of your pretty little cunt he was absolutely addicted to getting ran through by different versions of himself. Maybe you were just as obsessed with him as he was with you, why else would you do something like this?

“You a lil’ whore, ya know tha’, kitty?” His hands were already at the waist of your shorts, undoing the makeshift button you had made after he broke the original one a while ago. His lips were on yours, licking and biting feverishly in attempt to get a taste of you. “Guess I gotta remind you who you belong to.” He needed to tame your pretty little pussy, domesticate it, make it purr for him.

“I don’t belong to anyone, you know that.” You murmur against his lips, shifting your hips to make it easier for him to get your shorts out of the way. He pulled them down to your knees just above your boots and shifted away from you to duck under and slot his way between your nylon-clad thighs. He trailed kisses up the length of your body as he made his way back up, shoving your torn shirt up so his lips could feel your heated skin. “I’d beg to diffa, luv. I think you know ya slutty pussy belongs to me because why else would you hop aroun’ the multiverse just to hook up wit’ me ova and ova again?” He forced your shirt up over your tits, leaving you nice and exposed, unable to do anything about it even if you wanted.

“I’ve just gotta show you tha’ the original is always the bes’.” He had no time to take his time, to worship every inch, every curve, every dimple. He wanted his cock in you, he wanted to fuck you hard, fast, and deep. He wanted to destroy that pride of yours and force you to admit that he will always be your favorite.

He knows that's just how you like it. Rough, quick, and almost animalistic with a hint of risk. You can't get off without it. 

He tears a new hole in your tights right that the crotch and finds that your panties are already soaked, the vague outline of your plump pussy pressing against the fabric that clings to you like a second skin. He gets so hard at just the sight of it, so hard it becomes painful. "I's been a long fuckin' time." Hobie breathed out under his breath. "Ma favorite girl missed me I can see." He pressed the bulge of his cock against your wet, desperate cunt.

Your muscles tense and shudder uncontrollably as your lips attempt to contain a horrid little whimper. You weren't usually so sensitive, Hobie could feel your thighs clamping at his hips in an attempt to close your legs. His fingers slid past your panties and pulled them to the side just to find that your pussy was already pink and swollen, abused and misused by all the cocks you've already taken. You were so damn sensitive, your bud throbbing and engorged.

Hobie couldn't help but let out a chuckle, a smirk framing the scoff he let out. "A fuckin' slut, I tell you. You've already been so damn ran through." He slapped your pussy nice and firm and your whole body jolted with the pain and pleasure it caused and you cried out a little too loud.

"Migh' wanna be quiet. Ya don't wan' someone coming down and seeing your poor cut gettin' abused." His fingers slid between your slick folds, every part of you tender to the touch, every movement leaving your body trembling. It's pathetic how quickly he can have you and squeaking, whining, crying mess. A street cat tame by those long, slender fingers of his as he plays in your mess, a reminder of all the other hims you've had. You had been out on a conquest and somehow it's ending with you getting conquered.

It was easy for him to glide his fingers into your heat, the pad of his thumb drawing circles on your poor clit while he used his other hand to grab your chin and force you to look him in the eyes. "Can you feel tha'?' Your cunt was swallowing his digits down to the knuckle and squeezing. "Nice lil' kitty is purrin' fo' me. Think I migh' make 'er a house cat."

"Go fuck yourself." You manage to choke out between the strangled moans of your throat. Hobie chuckled and kissed you, nice and hard with his tongue against yours and his fingers playing your pussy like a fiddle. God, he was so good at what he did, knew just where your sweet spot was to have you crumbling in his hold. 

He pulled back a little, both of your lips wet with saliva, and nipped at your bottom lip. His fingers pumped in and out of your trembling pussy that wept for him, your slick dripping from his knuckles. You writhed against your restraints, claws sawing at his webbing to little avail. And you knew his fingers were nothing compared to that gorgeous cock of his that fit in you so snuggly and touched places that, before him, you hadn’t even known existed.

But his fingers were so good, able to caress your walls in ways his length couldn’t. His thumb rubbed your clit ferociously, sending spiked balls of pleasure to every muscle in your body. You spasmed, back arching off the walls, eyes rolling, vision blurry. “S-stop fuckin’ with me.” You manage to spit out at him in a shaking gasp.

“But fuckin’ wit’ ya is my favorite part.” Hobie slipped his fingers from your messy hole and took it upon himself to get a taste. “Plus, i’s no’ like you show me any mercy when ya in one of ya moods. I’ve gotta point to prove here.” His hands began to undo his belt with rushed persistence.

“And what point is that?” You watch him pull himself out, the length of his cock pressed against your pelvis. Prettiest you’ve ever seen, nice and long with subtle veins and dark brown tip beading with pearls of precum that weep from his tip and roll down the underside of his shaft.

Hobie maneuvered (more like manhandled) your fame so that your legs were up over his shoulders. He spat on his fingers, used it as lube to spread down his length. “Tha’ you ‘n I both know you can’t replace me with some off brand version.”

“Oh, I’d argue they were very on brand. All had that pretty face of yours. That prettier cock.” Your words faltered a bit as he pushed into you without so much as a warning, jealousy getting the better of him. His fingers grip your thighs, body pressing you into the wall while his hips rutted against you. He fucked you like an animal, his teeth gritting, his cock brutalizing your used up cunt. And the position allowed him to sink so deep you felt him in your gut, in your throat, in your very head. He fucked the air out of your lungs but that didn’t stop your cries of pleasure.

And as pretty as they were, Hobie didn’t need the two of you being stumbled upon. He placed his palm over your mouth, kept you placid and quiet white he fucked you with intention. He was gonna claim your pussy, paint it white, make it his, let you know that no matter how hard you try the two of you will always find yourself dancing to this same song. You’d fight, you’d fuck, you’d fight again, you’d fuck again. Sometimes you were allies, sometimes you were enemies, but at all times you were lovers.

He spanked your swollen clit while he fucked you in such a brutal nature. There was no sympathy for you, no mercy, no kindness offered. Just carnality unmatched by any of your other affairs. It might be the spider venom bound to his DNA making him this way. Hobie– normal Hobie, rational Hobie– was not a jealous person, especially not towards someone who, in all cases, did not belong to him.

The emotions of it were conflicting. The mixture of jealousy and arousal at the thought of you with another version of himself because in all the ways that made him who he was on paper was, he was with you every single time. Genetically, generally, the vague outline of himself. But the experiences were different, slightly tweaked in a way, and in the way that matters you had fucked entirely different people. And that was the fun of it. What would be the point of sleeping with the same person over and over again if not for the slight differences every time.

Hobie wondered if they made you feel this way, your back arching so dramatically off the wall, your eyes going cross with pleasure as your moans are contained behind his palm. The two of you had so much shared history that even if they were better, it still wouldn't compare. He knew you like he knew many things, on a level balanced by emotion and technicality.

The two of you were never meant to be anything more than this, a quick, filthy fuck in the back alley of some random place and yet you both were sure you were soulmates in some sick twisted way. You'd both go around in these pointless circles having the most fun with never making the effort to define yourselves or restrict yourselves to something that wasn't completely and entirely you.

Your toes curled in your boots as you felt the brutality of an orgasm coming your way. It built within you, clawing to get out like you clawed through the webs. It seized you like being strangled, curled around your body, left you warm and fuzzy and delirious.

"Look a' me, luv. Look a' me with those pretty eyes of yours." The way he fixed your face forward, made you look him in the eyes. "Nice lil' pussy gonna make me cum." Your walls spasmed, hugged him, squeezed around his length, molding to every curve, every vein. If only his hand weren't over your mouth, you'd kiss his pretty lips and tell him to shut the fuck up and just fuck you, just lose himself in you.

And oh, was he losing himself. An orgasm quickly approaching on the horizon. Hobie pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes low and sultry as he removed his hand from your mouth and gripped your thighs once more. "Fuck-" Hobie gasps and shudders, his abdomen tightening with the beginnings to a climax.

"Go ahead, pretty boy. You said you have a point to prove, right? Go ahead and prove it." You watched in breathless pants as he takes his pleasure in you, comes undone for you, his fingertips pressing bruises into your supple skin. "You're my favorite, my pretty boy." You confess to him. In all versions, you were simply looking for him, something you didn't find, no matter how eerily similar they all were.

Hobie murmurs something incoherent under his breath as he cums. He's swift with pulling out, just in time to spill his hot semen all over your heat. He claimed you like he always wanted to, with the way his hands left bruises in your skin, with the way his trembling cock spread his cum all over you, how his lips claimed yours in a moment of passion.

"You can stop pretendin' to be trapped now." Hobie murmured against your lips, pulling away and running his thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip before making himself decent. You had long sawed your way through his webs, they never last that long. You let your arms drop. "Finally, they were startin' to hurt." 

Hobie removes himself from your body, letting you take the time to get yourself together. "How much time do I have this time?" It was back to business as usual, not that either of you minded. You both enjoyed your games.

"A minute before I call my partna. Two before I start chasin' you myself." He always gave you a bit of a head start, maybe out of some soft spot he had for you. Sometimes he caught you, sometimes he didn't, it was all up to chance.

You pull your goggles out of you disheveled hair and fix them over your eyes. You lean into him, close enough that he thought you might kiss him. "I'll try not to break your nose this time, lovely." You peck his lips as a distraction as you slip your hand into the pocket of his vest and attempt to steal your stolen watch back.

Hobie's already thinking one step ahead of you. His hand grasps your wrist. "No' tha' generous. An' you've got 'bout 40 seconds lef'. Better get goin'." He's dealt with your bullshit more times than he can count. He knows what goes on in that pretty head of yourself, how you're always scheming, even against him— especially against him."

You scoff then chuckle. "Fine— c'ya 'round, Bee." You turn and rush off, grasping a gutter to leap up on the rooftop and run off.

You both love your fun and games.

[the-kr8tor]

the-kr8tor's Masterlist- Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

🕷️ Spider-Man across the spiderverse 🕷️

♥️ Hobie Brown/ Spider-Punk

I'll keep saving you over and over again.

Hobie Brown night-time Headcanons

Snow and Piercings

(Un)Lucky

Spider-punk x blackcat! Reader Drabble

Hobie catches you wearing his mask

Silk & Cologne (Hobie x silk!reader headcanons)

Hobie meets your cats for the first time

Hobie nurses you back to health (ft: the cats)

Under the clock tower (time loop au)

Alternate ending

You stay the night at Hobie's for the first time

The Morning after (part 2 of the fic above)

Heatwave (ft: the cats)

Hobie takes you web swinging around the city

The one with the baby

Speed Drive - 500 celebration fic 🎉

Sparring with Hobie

Birthday Blues -Dad! Hobie

Bad Idea, right?

In Pursuit of Blood: A trip down goblin lane

Mr and Mrs Smith AU: When Jane met John

Autumn of '88: TTN prequel

Once More to See you

250 Years of Longing

Two Slow Dancers -- coworker AU

🌹 Series Masterlist 🌹

Thread the Needle- Hobie Brown x fashion student! Fem! Reader 🧵🪡

The Fall- Fae! Hobie Brown x Fem! Reader 🍀🕸️

Between the Devil and the Sea- Pirate! Hobie x fem! Reader ⚓🌊

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere- Cowboy! Hobie x fem! Reader 🐎🏜️

♥️Request Masterlist (Hobie x reader)♥️

-REQUESTS ARE CLOSED- PLEASE CHECK MY RULES-

🌹 Fluffy Fridays Request Masterlist 🌹

-Requests for fluffy fridays are closed- check the rules here-

🧵 Thread the Needle one shots 🪡

🍒Request Masterlist II (Hobie x reader)🍒

💙 Request Masterlist III (Hobie x reader) 💙

🍼 Dad! Hobie/ Twin AU Collection 🧸

🦇 In pursuit of blood/ vampire! Hobie collection 🦇

Octobie'24 Masterlist

Reblog banner by @/cafekitsune

[rexlroze]

I thought you were actually gonna kill R... I'm surprised😃 but damn this was good af. The angst was perfect as always (even if I don't like it sometimes😒) like it's heartbreaking how Hobie can be seen blaming himself cuz idk, that's kinda a spiderperson dynamic(idk if that's the correct word) now.

But anyways, fuckin' amazing shit. I'm supposed to be doing my maths hw rn but I'd much rather read this🙂

(Un)Lucky

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Blackcat! GN Reader / Spider-Punk x Blackcat! GN Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Tags: FBW, smut Implied, TW blood, TW violence, TW death, cursing, hurt/comfort. No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader. Idiots in love.

Synopsis: Unlucky in life, unlucky in love. You question your situationship with Spider-Punk.

* I don't consent to having my work translated/ published on other platforms*

Black silhouetted shadows dance around the moon lit mansion, your feet expertly landing on the marbled floors without a sound. Slinking around the fancy beige colored furniture, your focus is on one thing – The safe hidden behind a large modern painting, how very cliché you thought. Swiftly dodging security cameras by climbing up the ceiling using your manicured claws, you finally drop down next to a large pair of concrete doors. You raise your brow at how atrocious it looks compared to the colorful modern paintings you've seen around the mansion.

"God, I hate brutalist architecture" you whispered to no one. 

Bringing out your index finger, you admire your sharp claws for a second before bending down to pick the door's lock. You feel the soft leather of your suit expand at your movement. But before you could pick the lock, you felt a presence behind you. Stopping for a brief moment to slowly grab one of your throwing knives, unclipping it from its holster - you fling it at the presence behind you.

The figure hanging upside down from the ceiling catches the knife's handle gracefully before it could stab him in the face. He lets it fall to the ground, impaling the oak table below.

"Woah, Don't mind me just enjoying the view" the spikes on top of his mask shine in the moonlight, bathing his suit in a soft blue light. 

"Of course it's you, hello to you too, beanpole" You scoff at his appearance, Pretending to be annoyed. 

Spider-punk drops from his web, softly landing on his feet. "I'm offended, after our last encounter I thought we're past the mean nicknames" He detaches the knife embedded into the table and plays with it.

"Oh so that's why you're here, you missed me, web-slinger" your voice saccharin smooth as you confidently stride towards him, your hand reaching out to him, non-verbally asking for your knife back.

"In your dreams, love. The owner hired me to watch over his place, you've been hitting a lot of his friends' places, he figured he's next" he says with a scoff.

Instead of the knife, Hobie puts his hand on your waiting one, You stare at your joined hands, and raise your eyebrows questioningly. Your eyes soften as the whites of his mask widen at his realization. 

"I beg to differ, you dork" you smirk at him. 

He lets go of your hand, and puts the knife on your palm. Hobie's thankful you can't see his face, albeit he still stares at you directly, challenging you to have a go at him like you usually do, you can definitely do better than call him a dork. But you don't for some odd reason.

Putting the knife back in its place you turn your back at him, you continue working at the lock. You bend down again.

"Fuck'n hell, love" he unashamedly groans at the sight of you.

Fully aware of his eyes on your ass. It doesn't bother you, quite the opposite actually, you liked the attention he's giving you, and dare you even say you like the guy. But the words 'I don't like labels' echoes in your mind. You don't like it either, you liked just having fun with him, but the memories of your last encounter with the man behind you keeps playing in your mind. 

The way he kissed and touched you that night, it felt different, a good difference, you think. The entire time It felt like there was an underlying emotion other than lust prevailing that fateful night. You have no idea how to make sense of your situation, or how to feel about him. So you do what you always do, shelf it in the back of your mind, keep piling similar memories on top of it, until one day it bursts out of you like Vesuvius. Hopefully no one's there with you to witness it when it finally happens.

"Oi, cat got your tongue?" His voice snaps you back to reality. You can't see his face with your back turned but you imagined him with a smirk under his mask, the same way you imagined what he would look like. You've only seen the bottom half of his face, the same way he's only seen your face clad in your domino mask. 

"I'm busy" you bite back as you feel for the mechanism to finally unlock with a click. 

"Right, no cat puns when working" he says.

You push the heavy doors, satisfaction on your face. You look over your shoulder to look at him. 

"If you're gonna web me and sell me out to your boss just do it already" you pointedly tell him.

"As much as I'm into the first part, it's a no to the last bit" His comment gets ignored. 

You head inside the office, with Hobie not far behind. You glare at the expansive yet unnecessary room. 

The room's marble flooring is covered in various animal furs, the walls lined with tacky paintings of the owner. A few of the paintings show the greedy man hunting wild animals, you glare at the painting as if your eyes would suddenly cause it to combust into flames. 

"With all the money in the world, he couldn't hire an interior designer?" Hobie grimaces at the various décor around the room. "No cameras" he pointed out.

"Probably to cover his shady dealings with Roxxon" you tell him.

"Tsk, nasty, nasty old man." Hobie finally looks at you taking down the huge painting to reveal the large metal safe. 

He sighs annoyed at your attitude. "Y'know me, cat, I would never actually help people this rich, hell I'd even help you if you asked" 

"Why'd you take the job then?" You ask as you try to crack the safe's code.

Hobie leans against the doorway watching you. "Unfortunately we live in a capitalist society, and I need money to eat. He didn't ask me to catch you anyway, just watch the place. No matter how much I want to burn down this bloody eyesore" And I was hoping to see you again. He also wanted to add.

You didn't bother to reply, you hum at his explanation. You hear the satisfying click of the safe's lock finally unlocking. Why was it so easy?

"What's up with the stick up y –" He cuts himself off.

His spidey-sense kicks in. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion for Hobie, a wave of red hot fear floods his entire body as he sees you slowly open the safe. His mind seems to be stuck in the moment, thankfully his body moves with muscle memory, he swiftly moves away from the doorway, one hand reaches out to web you towards him, his other hand reaches behind him, he webs the wall to pull you both out the room. 

The subsequent explosion can be heard, smoke and ashes fill his vision. The once heavily decorated room now looks like ground zero. 

Hobie's ears are ringing, but he doesn't care, he needs to find you. His eyes pull towards the room where they were both in. The large concrete doors closed, their edges burned from the explosion. The force from the explosion must've closed it.

The heavy doors accidentally saved them, he didn't have time to think how it happened, he just needed to find you, he needed to know that you were okay.

He screams your alias with a gutteral screech. Hobie stands up, his stance wavers but he continues on. He winces when some of his blood gets into his eye, realizing his mask now torned up from the side, only hiding half of his face. His eyes roam around the damaged mansion looking for your figure, his eyes stop once again to the concrete doors. 

His heart sinks at his realization.

"No, no, no!" He limps towards the large doors.

He didn't notice if his web actually reached you in time to pull you both out. 

He pulled and pushed at the comically large doors. It doesn't move.

Hobie's mind plays tricks on him, he keeps seeing in his mind's eye - your charred body, skin turned to ash, eyes burned into your sockets, your jaws permanently set in a scream. His own mind mocks him. Hobie ignores the vision. He kicks and screams for the doors to magically open.

He has no idea how long it has been since the explosion, with his ears still ringing, smoke and dust clinging around the room. His hope dwindles. 

Hobie falls to his knees, eyes unblinking and wide, crimson seeps from the cut on his head. He ignores it and just stares blankly at the gray doors.

It was his fault.

He can't believe he left you, he was too slow. Of all the people in the world why you. Memories of you keep playing in his mind, trying to push away the image of your death.

In his stupor he doesn't notice a shadow enveloping him, arms finding its way to his shoulder hugging his twitching form. For a second he thought you were haunting him.

He finally gets a grip on reality and looks behind his shoulder.

Your domino mask now clinging to one side, mirroring his own damaged mask. Blood seeps from the side of your cheek. Your eyes are dull but open. 

Your eyes are open.

He turns around lightning fast, Hobie clings to you like velcro. His shoulders sag from the relief, as if he can finally breathe again. You sigh at the contact, and let out a small laugh. 

"Oi, what's so funny" he pulls away from you slightly, he looks at your head to assess the damage. 

"I'm not brain damaged," you smile at his concern, you grab his face, cradling it. "I'm fine, we're both fine, you saved me" you look at each other, affection prominent in every crevice of your bodies.

You both now have a clear view of each other's faces. 

"You look better than I imagined," he softly says. 

You giggle at his comment "And you look so much cooler than I thought, it's unfair, I thought I was the cool one" 

"I was this cool the whole time" he teases. 

You grab his neck to carefully put your foreheads together. To calm the lingering tension from it, you rub circles on his skin, In turn Hobie cranes his neck to look at your lips asking for permission. You nod and let him ground you both back to reality with his kiss. 

Hobie reluctantly pulls away "Let's go before they find us, yeah?" He helps you stand up. "You up for a swing 'round the city?"

You give him your signature smirks "your place or mine?" 

"Yours" he grabs your waist. "There's a first time for everything right?"

"Oh you're gonna love my cats" You smile wildly, you don't know if your face hurts from the cut on your cheek or from smiling too much. 

He memorizes the look on your face as if, all of this was just a dream, and he'll forget what you looked like once he wakes up. He grabs you by the waist, and swings out of the wreckage. Just in time before sirens could get closer to the mansion.

As you swing away towards your home, you think about where your relationship currently lies. There might not be a label for your relationship yet, or what this all means in the future. But at least now you know how he truly feels, how you feel.

As for the bastard who tried to blow you both up, revenge can wait, for she is patient.

You'll think about everything later, but right now you enjoy the moment as you cling to him.

A/n: Hope you enjoyed reading it! Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ♥️