#Hobie brown x ftm!reader

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sweet lips ❞ (rough hands pt.2)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. rival bands hobie x FTM!reader, conflicting emotions, a lot of sexual tension, light exhibition, lots of kissing, humping, pussyjob, accidental penetration, save a horse ride a cowboy, no orgasm (womp womp). you and Hobie agree, nothing can happen between you two, feelings would make things too complicated. but when you go further than expected, you find that you two like each other far more than you realize.

wc: 3.7k

�� pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

“They make me sick.” Your guitarist grumbled under her breath as you and The Mutts lounge on a mangy, beat-up couch backstage of a shared venue. You all watch, glaring at the Mary Janes as they pass by. They don't spare their own glowering gazes at your Mutts, like two packs of dogs growling and snapping at each other where territories meet.

You catch the leader of the Mary Janes’ gaze. His eyes flicker at you and yours narrow with a biting hatred you've always had. Hobie Brown curls his lip up at you and turns away as his band rounds the corner to make their way to a separate lounging area backstage. Your own secret language, two birds and their indecipherable mating rituals.

It’s easy to pretend you still hate each other, between quick glances and lingering touches. A charade of band rivalry made to keep up the act for your respective bandmates. They’d never understand the way you always find him before or after performing and let him touch you in ways that would bring shame to the lot of them.

“Why Hobie Brown?” They'd say. “He’s the worst.” “I thought you hated him.” “He’s a fucking dickhead.” All of which are true. He is the worst. You do hate him. And he’s the biggest dickhead on this planet and the next. An arrogant, cocky, insufferable asshole with lips that taste like mint and beer and fingers that reach places inside you that you never even knew existed.

“There’s that battle of the bands competition coming up.” Your drummer chuckled snidely. “Wouldn't it be great to show them up? Fuckin’ posers.”

You got up from the couch, murmuring something about going to find a bathroom in this labyrinth of a venue. Your bandmates didn't question it, telling you to hurry back as you guys would be performing soon. You waved them off. “Yeah yeah, lemme go piss in peace.”

Your boots thudded against the old rickety floors of the venue, your eyes shooting from side to side looking to see if anyone would bear witness to your sin. Hobie told you to meet him just beyond the dressing rooms after he was done performing. He always needed a way to let off some of that built up adrenaline afterwards and you needed to rid yourself of your anxieties. It was a mutually beneficial relationship.

It was simple really. No strings attached, not emotions, no sappy, meaningless feelings to get in the way. And most importantly, no actual intercourse. It was too messy, too intimate, it meant too many things. Because if this all went to shit, it would be easy to transition back into hating each other without missing the way each other's body felt on the inside.

Hobie was hiding from you, lingering in a dark corner, while you looked aimlessly for his lanky figure. For a moment you wondered if he stood you up and was all together ready to write him off as the asshole you always believed him to be and go back to your bandmates.

You turned your back to him and he stepped out of hiding to grab you by the waist, turning you around to press his lips to yours and back you against a wall. You didn't kiss him back, instead you punched him in the shoulder and pushed his face away. “Asshole!” You tried not to be too loud. “I hate you.”

Hobie’s lips curled up into a grin as he snickered. “If ya hated me ya wouldn't be ova here, would’ja?” He laughed as you pushed against him again, forcing him to release you as he stumbled back. “Fine, I won't be here then.” You wouldn't entertain his jokes, if he wouldn't help with your stage jitters then you didn't need to be here in the first place.

But as you expected, as you wanted, Hobie took you hand and pulled you back to him. “Hey, hey, hey, I was jus’ messin’ ‘round. Stop bein’ such a prissy, stuck up bitch, eh.” He trapped you in his arms again, your back against the wall, bodies flush against each other with just your clothes to keep you apart. His pants were tight, you could feel his bulge against your tummy. A useless appendage, never to feel the gummy insides of your cunt.

You turned away from him. “Fuck you.” You grunt. His hand snaked up your front, feeling up your chest and your throat before grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at him. “You wish, don’cha?” He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you once more. You don't resist this time.

Your kisses are feverish, urgent. You'd never call them passionate. Passionate is for lovers, for people who care about each other beyond the fling you two have going on. Your kisses demand each other's full, undivided attention. It asks, always, “will we go there today?” The answer is always “no”.

No fucking, nothing too intimate.

But your kiss is deep, his lips are sweet, and his hands are swiftly unbuckling your belt to get into your pants. He knows you want his fingers, long and skillful and pretty, readied with the intimate knowledge of what makes you tick, what makes you shudder and roll your hips into his palm, what makes you curse his name while kissing him all the same.

You’re panting breaths into each other's mouths, the essence of your beings on each other’s tongues. Your mind grows dizzy with the taste of him, delightful and tangy. You want to savor him on your tongue between your sloppy kisses.

“Hobie,” you sighed into his mouth as his hand snuck beyond the waistline of your pants and dove into your underwear to touch you where you ached most for him. And just as his fingers began to rub between your wet folds, you heard someone call out for Hobie.

Quickly, you two retreated from one another in fear of being caught in such a compromising position. Hobie snatched his hands from you and you swiftly began to make yourself decent once again. You glanced at each other, knowing this was not done. You'd have to come to his boat later in the night when you were both away from your bandmates. It was the only semblance of privacy you two had.

Without a word, you two went your opposite ways with the mutual understanding that you’d come to his boat later and happily sit on his fingers and drag orgasm after orgasm out of your pants up body.

But you couldn't help but glance over your shoulder at his retreating frame, only to find he was looking at you already, walking backwards. When he noticed he was caught, he raised his hand as if to concede he had been found out and smiled, winking at you.

You rolled your eyes at his and turned back around, only to nip at your bottom lip which where the taste of him still lingered like a ghost.

You performed with a hazy mind and wet between the legs, every motion reminding you of how you had been left needy and desperate. You hated feeling desperate. The sweat lingering on your forehead, the way your lips kiss the mic as you had kissed him, pushing yourself against the stand like it was his body. You needed him, bad.

You went to his boat that night with a single thing on your mind. Cumming until you forgot your name. Hobie was keenly skilled at that, teased you relentlessly for it when your dazed gaze comes back into focus and you look as though you don't know where you are.

Hobie was on the deck of his houseboat when you arrived, strumbing at chords on his guitar while scribbling down on the notepad beside him. He had left the plank down so that you could board on your own. He was keenly aware of your presence as soon as you arrived, only pretending that he wasn’t to ensure he didn’t seem too eager to see you.

You came up behind him, squatting down to look over his shoulder at his lyric book. “Writing lyrics about me?” You teased. Hobie snapped his book closed before you could any good grasp on his indecipherable handwriting. He looked back at you, a bit nervous but playing it off well. “Tryna steal ma ideas, now? ‘Specially wit’ tha’ battle of the bands comin’ up.”

Little did you know, he was writing about you. The chords he strummed on his stickered guitar were taken from the sheet music of his heart. He’s been trying to fight it, the feelings he had for you. You both agreed there would be none of your sticky, bloody heartstrings exposed for one another. And he was determined to keep it. It made everything much, much easier.

You pushed his head lightly and stood up, looking down upon him with a rather unimpressed expression. “I wouldn’t want your lyrics if you wrote the next “God Save the Queen”. I’ve got my own stuff. We’re gonna put you in the ground.” You really hadn’t come to talk about your competition.

Hobie stood up to a height that made you stagger. He was shirtless. His lean body on display for you to admire. He was close to you, so close you could smell his musky body wash and a faded whiff of his cologne. He smiled at you and reached to tap your chin. So pretty you could have dropped dead right then and there, your breath stolen away from you, your heart beating loudly in your ears.

Sometimes you wished Hobie wasn’t so nice to look at. It would make things a whole lot easier for you.

“Le’s go inside, yeah?” Hobie nudged you, grabbing his guitar and his lyric book and walking through the door he had left open that led into his home, a place you have learned to know all too well. You followed him inside and immediately made yourself comfortable. You kicked off your boots by the door and made your way over to his bed.

This was all just formalities. Going through the motions of your usual niceties of snide remarks and biting laughter at the other’s expense. The ‘hello, how are you’s before you two get down to the gritty stuff. You learned to enjoy this moment. The suspense of “when” made it all the nicer when one of you would eventually have enough of it and walk over to kiss the other.

You sat on his bed, messily made in some haphazard attempt to make it seem like he had a morning routine outside of walk up and go out on the deck for a cig to clear his head of the dreams he’s been having of you. He’d dig the heels of his palms into his eyes and groan at the thought of you lingering behind his eyes.

Hobie wasn’t sure if he’d be comforted with the fact that you’ve been having dreams of him too. Touching you, kissing you, pushing into you with his lips mouthing words of praise against your neck. You’d wake up flustered, face hot with the idea, heart palpitating in your chest. You’d be a little meaner to him that day just to balance out the way the thought of him made you feel things that you were forced to call “want”.

You watched Hobie as he put his guitar back on its stand and tossed his lyric book down on a small couch he had to the side. His pants hung low on his hips, the dimples kissing his low back are something you’ve never noticed before. You wanted to press your fingers there, kiss them even. You shut the idea down before you even had the chance to linger on it.

Hobie went into his fridge and pulled out two beers. He used one to pop the other open and then did the same with the other, the beer frothing in their bottles as he came and handed one to you.

“You think I want your shitty beer?” You took it anyway. Hobie stood over you, taking a swing of it all while keeping his eyes trained on you. With a sigh, he said, “No, I think ya want my tongue on yer cunt but I figured ya wasn' gonna ou’ ‘n say tha’ much.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. You hated that he made you get so flustered. You hated his crudeness. You hated that he leaned down and held your chin so gently and kissed you with his mint and beer stained lips and you so blissfully let him. He’s sweet to the senses, sweet on your tongue as you press yours to his.

Then he pulled away, a string of saliva connecting you, panting. “Drink.” He guides your hand to press the rim of your bottle to your lips. You do drink, you hope that at the bottom you might find your will to leave before things get too heated. You know you won't. You’re too addicted to the way he moves, his rough hands and sweet lips.

You drink the whole bottle and he does the same and after you two kiss again. Hobie takes your bottle from you and sets both of them down on the floor beside his bed. Doing this, he parts your lips once more. And you cry a little. “Just fucking kiss me, you asshole.”

“Aww,” He poked at you. “Needy aren’cha?”

You grab him by the shoulders, pull him in, and kiss him viciously, like you’re trying to eat him whole. Consume him and make him one with your body. Hobie chuckled at this, his smile wide against your lips as he rubbed soft circles into the plush of your thighs. Your tongues find each other in the mess of teeth, lips, and piercings. Noses mashing against the other as you press your faces into each other. You desire to melt into him. He wants to mold your body with his hands.

“We should try somethin’ different t’day.” Hobie purred against your tongue that licked at the seam of his lips so thoughtfully asked permission. He let you in, let you explore every tantalizing crevice of his tender mouth. You hummed mindlessly, still kissing. “What’s that?”

Hobie snickered softly at his idea and broke your kiss into a string of thin saliva that held you two together. It broke apart when Hobie leaned back and lied flat on his bed. You you were still on top of him, his pulsing cock before you, aching with a few small jumps. It was a pretty thing for sure, with veins like the stems of flowers and a tip that was slightly bigger than the rest of the shaft. It curved slightly and for some reason you liked it. It never did anything for you. You never allowed it to enter your body.

Hobie pulled your hips forward until you were sitting on top of it, leaking pussy pressing down on the warm length of his dick. Immediately, you pulled away. “Hobie, we said–”

“Jus’ calm down, luv. We’re no’ goin’ there. I’s jus’ a lil’ humpin’.” Hobie assured you, pulling you back down to sit on top of him. His fingers rubbed your thighs and hips in a comforting manner. ”Come on, we’re both grown men. We can ‘ave some self control.” You settled down. You assured yourself nothing more would happen. Hobie seemed confident of the same. 

With permission, Hobie tightened his hold on your hips and began to guide your movements. His length was trapped between your pussy lips which rubbed him up and down while your clit caught on his tip. You both let out fluttering moans, occasionally looking at each other but mostly focusing on the pussyjob you were giving him.

“I hate you.” You muttered between soft moans, your hips rutting on their own now. You watched Hobie smirk and let a deep chuckle pass his succulent, kiss-swollen lips. “Ya say i’ so much I almos’ tink ya like me.”

Oh, how right he was. You had barely even known it yourself, the way you overcompensated for the way you long to be near him by telling him constantly how thoroughly you despise him. You were startled by how accurately he read you. You hated being an open book.

You snarled at him, pressing your hips down harder, rocking your hips faster. “Fuck you.”

Hobie let out a shaky sigh. His cock leaked out pre into his hairy navel. “So close, baby.” Your pussy was dripping on him, the sticky wetness between your legs making your path along the tail of his cock slippery. You were playing a dangerous game and you both adored it beyond reason.

Hobie looked up as you rolled your head back, exposing the chaste flesh on your throat. He admired you, your broad shoulders, your pretty waist, the crescent scars along the underside of your chest. His hand caresses your thighs, up your hips and your sides. Your skin was soft and supple under his rough touch, God, to be like this was like having Heaven in his hold.

You were so eager, so zealous, so daring with your movements. Neither of you noticed how far you had gone forwards, further than normal. You felt his wet tip against your entrance and before you could stop your momentum, you rocked back into it and let him plunge himself into your love.

Immediately, both of your eyes snapped to each other and you paused. He was inside of you, raw. Never before had you trekked into this territory, too fearful of what it may mean. But you were here now, his cock snuggled nicely between your walls that you involuntarily massaging him.

You stared at each other for a long time. Your gazes melting from fear to something far, far more terrifying. Without a word, you two agreed. You’d do this once. Only once. And it would mean nothing. With the slightest nod, you agreed that you two wouldn't become addicted to the feeling of him stretching your entrance open and he wouldn't find himself thinking about how soft and wet you were.

You stared him in his heterochromatic eyes as you sat fully in his lap, your fingers splayed out over his chest. His hands gripped your hips as you rolled them timidly into his and let out a soft cry as the feeling of him filling you, stretching you out, molding you.

Hobie sat up. Your chests touched. Your hands settled on his shoulders to brace yourself as you sat up. This was your chance to stop this, you both know where this road leads. But instead of completely coming off of him, you came back down on his length. You both moaned something guttural past your tender lips.

Hobie felt his mind grow dizzy with the feeling of your soft, wet walls gripping him like a vice, and addiction he just can’t shake. For a moment, he thought that your rough exterior — your crude cursing and biting hatred — was all an act to hide the fact that you were so tender and beautiful on the inside.

You found a steady rhythm. Each plunge of his length into you dragging out moans from you both. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close with your eyes closed. You couldn't bear to look at him. You knew that if you looked at him, looking him in his pretty eyes, he might snatch your soul from you and never return it.

Hobie terrified you. Every moment you spent in his presence was a moment that you found yourself enjoying despite all your grunts and groans at his expense. You liked him and that horrified you. Now you were here, taking the best dick you’ve ever gotten in your life. His dulcet moans echoing in your ears as his hands pull you ever closer.

His tip kissed your cervix with each bounce and your back arched into him at the feeling. Your chest were rubbing, your bodies moving and melding together. It was intimate, too intimate for your liking.

You were about to tell him you hated him again, to crush this feeling you had blooming within the bloody, stringy workings of your heart, but as you opened your eyes to do so, you found that Hobie was already looking at you, his eyes rather soft for comfort.

You couldn't. You couldn't do this. Your heart was beating too fast, your pupils were dilating, you could feel an orgasm quickly approaching. You couldn't do this. It was too much too fast. Too many feelings all at once that you were sure you weren't ready to handle.

You got up swiftly, so fast you almost toppled over. You were quick to start collecting your clothes and slipping them back on. “I– I can't do this.”

“You ‘ave feelin’ fo’ me ‘n yer too scared t’admit i'.” Hobie bit at you, watching you pull on a shirt that wasn't yours in your haste to leave. You shook your head, fingers trembling, the ache of him still pulsing between your legs. “No, no, shut up! You don't know anything about me!” Your voice quivered. You couldn't bear to bring your eyes to look at him because you know if you did you’d crumble. You had to leave. 

Hobie didn't bother to convince you to stay. If you were set in leaving, who was he to stop you? Maybe he wasn't ready to confront his feelings either. You were two sides of the same coin, neither ready to handle these soft emotions you’ve grown callous to.

You left into the night without looking back at him and he slammed the door behind you on your way out, tears swelling in your eyes as you let out a sob and kicked the door. “Fuck you, Hobie! I hope you rot in hell!”

“I'll meet ya there, arsehole!” He sneered back through the door. Weeks of your tumultuous affair gone down the drain all in one fell swoop.

Your heartstrings torn as you bleed all over each other.

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

The Hobie fandom has a lot of smut, and with a character so accepting on so many fronts, it means so much to me to see trans!readers being taken into consideration.

As a trans guy myself, I love seeking out ftm!smut. But often times, I often can't read them. Many times I'm left feeling unseen, reduced, or even feminized.

And I wanna talk about that a bit, if it's okay.

My take and feelings on FTM!smut - As a Trans Guy

Ngl as a trans guy myself I do feel a bit alienated by a lot of FTM!reader.

I'm gonna be honest - I feel like most ftm smut is written exactly as it would be a cis woman, just with the pronouns changed. Which is understandable, but not really how it works.

Cis women and trans men don't have sex the exact same, just because they're AFAB.

And I feel most smut writers haven't gone out of their way to research the sexual experiences of trans men and how we navigate the world.

Hobie smut is pretty vulgar, and I won't complaining! As a character, he has a high volume of smut, and probably the most diverse range, with Black!reader, ftm!readers, and male!readers being more common than most fandoms.

Black!Reader focuses on the unique experience of black people when in a relationship together. This unique experience is at the basis of black!reader.

But when we approach Ftm!reader - very often, our unique experience isn't reflected.

It's just assumed that because we are AFAB - there's no need to look deeper at the closer unique sexual experience trans men have - or to read up about it.

Most ftm!reader fic does not attempt to use affirming sexual language for trans men at all.

T-dicks - ie, natural clitoris enlargement you get after taking T - is a thing a lot of transitioning Trans men have.

But they're never called T-dicks in fanfiction. Only clits. It's very rare that a ftm!reader is described as having a dick - because so often the only dicks cis people recognize are natal dicks, and surgery-constructed ones.

Many cis writers may never even considered referring to a trans man's clitoris as a dick - pre or post T. They may see it as confusing to the reader, when it's not.

T-Dicks are dicks. Bottom growth didn't give you a full 3-4 inches, but you absolutely have growth and there are trans men that can penetrate with T-dicks - without surgery - if with the right partner.

The words pussy and cunt are used liberally in nearly all ftm!smut, and while many trans men are okay with these terms, I think a lot of cis writers ignore or do not know that often, terms like those can cause heavy dysphoria in a lot of ftm readers.

I don't think cis writers ever question if they might be making readers dysphoric - or showing them in a non-affirming way.

I feel like some writers believe that changing pronouns and calling the reader 'handsome' is really all it takes. Just write usual fem smut, change the pronouns - and done!

In reality, a large part of the ftm community feels uncomfortable with the word 'pussy' - and would much rather stuff like 'front hole'.

A poll on 'What do you call your downstairs?'

And I'm not saying that you can't call a trans man's genitals a pussy. And I'm not saying that a trans man calling his genitals a pussy is wrong.

I just feel like cis writers do not consider the dysphoria of their trans readers, when writing trans smut.

I feel like most cis writers don't actually seek out accounts of trans men and their sexuality.

I don't think they ever consider that these terms, talking about wetness and penetration (which many men on T can have problems with because of vaginal atrophy and dryness), breast, clits, cunts, pussy -

I don't think cis writers ever question 'Is this accessible for ftm readers that might have dysphoria? How can I make this accessible or easier for trans men who have bottom dysphoria?'

Or

'How can I make this more affirming of them as men?'

It's the assumption that, because we're all AFAB, because we have vaginas like cis women - then naturally we must all fuck the same regardless of gender, the only thing changing being the pronouns.

That's not true.

And also - Trans Men are never really written like gay men.

Trans men having sex with men is gay sex.

And even though most writers write trans men with male OCs - they hardly ever write their sex as if they are gay men.

99.9% of the time, it isn't written that way. Its always written as if it's 'straight sex'.

The experience of how gay men have sex is never really taken account into these fics, which makes me feel like a lot of writers don't see it as gay sex at all.

At most, the ftm reader may be described as a bottom - but never as an otter or twink or bear or cub or leather or anything.

They see it as AFAB sex.

Cause If I'm getting strictly candid - I feel like if a writer wrote mtf!smut and kept focusing on the girls 'hard throbbing cock and balls' - we'd all be like 'oh wow that's very intense centering on genitals that may alienate some trans women-'

But in ftm!smut focusing on 'wet tight juicy pussy and thriving clit' is standard. It's never really questioned.

And this is not to say 'oh trans women have it better they get better smut-' No. They really don't. I'm just bringing this up to highlight the fact that we should be making sure that trans!smut is accessible and affirming to the trans people they're about.

Seeing a fic in which a gay trans man prefers to use his asshole, like most gay men fuck, is VERY VERY rare.

I feel like most cis writers never consider the fact that gay trans men may want to perform sex in an affirming, clearly coded, masculine gay way.

It's always assumed we use our front hole, are okay with it being called a pussy, have no problems getting wet, or that we don't have dicks (T-dick is a dick).

And because of that - the lack of affirming language and the lack of affirming transmasc experiences makes it very hard for me as a FTM person to read smut about ftm!readers.

I feel like most of them don't actually take our comfort - or our experiences in mind.

I feel like most don't attempt to actually read accounts of trans guys having gay sex, and what that's often like.

If you're a writer who feels guilty of any of this - you're not a bad person or a bad writer. And I genuinely thank you for including us in your work - from the bottom of my heart.

But I want to highlight this -

Trans men having sex is not a 1:1 of cis women having sex. The same way trans women having sex is not a 1:1 of cis men having sex.

Or experiences are unique - and our dysphoria does affect our sex lives, and how we navigate them.

Please, do not let this put you off writing trans men. But please keep in mind that our experience is unique.

So often I read ftm!reader and feel reduced down to my pussy. Without breasts in the equation, so much ftm!smut focuses solely on the pussy.

If you write ftm!reader please please do not let this put you off, but here's some tips I can give as a trans guy

Please do slight research of ftm anatomy, read an article about gay trans men, or go on r/ftm (subreddit) and read some posts about trans men, read some nsfw posts where trans men tell hookup tales.

Advocate has an great article called '16 things I learned from having sex with Trans Men' - which details and dispels 16 myths about trans men in bed. It's written from the POV of gay men who have been with trans men in affirming ways.

This post is in no way meant to be an attack or subliminal at any one writer. If it was one writer, I wouldn't care.

But this is something I've experienced and seen across fandoms and across writers in this fandom too. I feel the urge to write this because searching for affirming ftm!fics - I often come away feeling even more dysphoric.

Not because of the word pussy or cunt or anything -

But because of the erasure of my experience, the idea that my gender doesn't influence my experience of sex - only my AFAB genitals do.

If you write ftm!smut, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly.

But I feel like I had to say this.

If you read this far, thank you! This is one of my more personal venting posts but I'm also trying to raise a point and start a discussion. And you reading through this and giving me your time and understanding is already helpful enough, so thanks!

Here's Hobie.

Bye.

[memory-and-sky]

hi I loved your dysphoria fic and I wanted to request a ftm coming out to hobie fic? Maybe somewhere pretty like a fair or a spiderman classic tall building?

yes!!! i love writing ftm fics! thank you so so much anonnnn :3 hoping you enjoy!!

word count: 666 (how cool!)

containing: swearing, mention of dysphoria, reader is transmasc, use of ‘girl’ to address reader (once), crying, a little emotional i will admit! also a little corny but as is life

the rest of the fic is under the cut!

coming out (finally).

hobie x ftm!reader

It had been a long day without Hobie.

He’s the only one that you really trusted, really loved, and the only one who really cared for you in return. He… yeah, he loved you.

Those words were heavy on your mind as you paced the streets of Camden, trying to calm yourself down before going back on Hobie’s houseboat where you knew he’d be waiting. You were currently wearing Hobie’s tattered shirt, jacket, and jeans.

He probably wondered why you were always stealing his stuff, too.

Well…

Putting it simply, you hated being a girl. You couldn’t dress like one without crying uncontrollably. You hated it more than anything ever.

That’s why you’d been favouring Hobie’s clothes over your own recently.

Also why your back hurt incessantly. All the slouching in an attempt to hide your chest did a number on you.

You weren’t a girl. You knew this. Have for a while, but subsided it because of the world you lived in. And other shit that was happening. It was too much.

You didn’t know how Hobie felt about trans people. He was gay, but that’s… different.

As you came up on the dock Hobie’s houseboat was at, where you had been staying, your heartbeat increased.

Fuck.

Could you even do this?

You had to. You promised yourself. And Hobie… Hobie’s not the type of person to hate someone like that. Not for who they are, and what they cannot change.

You walked over to Hobie’s houseboat, and climbed on. Was he even home yet?

You looked in the bedroom, under the deck, and he was sleeping. Climbing the stairs down, you went to go gently wake him up.

“Whuh…” Hobie rubbed his eyes as you shook him awake. “Oh, mornin’, pre’y girl,”

You shuddered at the use of ‘girl’, not in a good way at all.

“It’s evening. Can I…um… well, I just have somethin’ to talk with you… about.”

“Do I gotta get up?” He mumbled.

“Yes. Please?”

Hobie sat up, slid his slippers onto his feet, and then went upstairs with you, onto the deck.

You looked out at the setting sun, casting orange lighting on you both.

It was beautiful. As stupid as it might sound, it gave you a bit of confidence.

Like you had to do it now. It was so pretty, how could you not?

“Hobie, you… you’d accept me no matter what I told ya, yeah?”

He nodded without hesitation. “Barely anyfing you could tell me t’ make me hate ya, love,”

You avoided his gaze. Jesus, you were terrified.

“So, you know how I’ve cut my hair kinda short, and I’ve been stealing your boyish clothes…” You took a shaky deep breath. “I… I’m not a girl. I’m a boy. I’ve decided I want to go by (y/n) and use he and him or whatever. I wanna be recognized as a guy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, and clenched your fists in anticipation.

“Oh… oh, han’some…” You opened your eyes to a big grin on Hobie’s gorgeous features, as he brought up a calloused hand to gently cradle your face. “I’ll do anyfing t’ help ya, aight? Anyfing, I promise. I’ll cut yer hair if ya want, I’ll help ya with getting new clothes, I accept ya, ‘kay? Even if you gotta change yer identity a million times ova’, I’ll support ya through all of it.”

You felt like crying out of happiness, and as tears sprang to your eyes, you hugged Hobie tightly, held him like he was going to disappear at any moment.

“T-thank you, Hobie…” You cried into his shirt that he had sewn himself.

You sobbed as Hobie pressed kisses onto the top of your head, rubbing your back gently at the same time.

“Of course, mate. ‘n I’m sorry fo’ callin’ you a girl, hope you can forgive me, swee’ ting.”

“I—I can. Y-you didn’t know, it’s not… on you,” You sniffled.

Whatever happens next, you were glad you did this when you did.

You loved Hobie, and he loved you, so… that’s all that mattered to you. You’d make it through together.

[sorry for the shortness of this, everyone! hope u still liked♥️]

[lotte-s-web]

thinking about reader walking in on hobie getting off and instead of walking out, he urges him on to continue. slipping to his side on the bed and just watching, hands rubbing up and down hobies waist, egging him on. the reader teasing and praising in his ear.. hobie would probably get all shy about it, all embarrassed about being walked in on. he'd groan and curse, hiding his face in his arms as the reader guides his hand to where the reader knows it feels the best..

this but its loser!hobie MWEHEHEHEHHE

₊✩‧ ❝loser!hobie x reader❞ headcanons ✩‧₊

₊˚⭑ warnings: nsfw, ftm!reader implied, underwear sniffing, masturbation with underwear

loser!hobie who's pitifully jerking off with a pair of your panties/briefs in one hand while the other covers his lips. he rubs the fabric up and down his cock, getting precum all over it as he imagines his hand as your cunt. he groans into his palm, fist tightening around his cock in an attempt to replicate you. it’s not enough, it never is.

loser!hobie who is so, so ashamed. he’d stolen your underwear in a desperate move, eager to keep anything to remind him of you before you’d left the boathouse. god only knows how long it’d be until he saw you again, got to hold you. in his haste, he’d rummaged through the pile of dirty clothes you left and grabbed what would’ve had your scent on it. he’d obviously hidden it from you, but the moment you’d closed the door, he’d sat down and pulled out the crumpled fabric, shoving his nose into it and sniffing, a long shaky breath leaving his lips.

loser!hobie who can’t help that he’d gotten rock hard immediately, and can’t help but be loud about it. he muffles himself against his palms but can’t help the way his moans and whines turn high-pitched at the thought of you, fueled by the need to see you again, to feel you again. he tries to replicate the way your pussy squeezes him, the way your hand applies just the right amount of pressure to make him leak all over you. he thinks of the way you massage and tease his tip and groans brokenly into his hand, pumping himself harder to the thought of you.

loser!hobie who’s so caught up in his fantasy that he hadn’t even noticed he’d left the door unlocked for you to come back in when you’d finally found out what you’d left at his boathouse. imagine your surprise when you spot that pair you’d been looking for in his hand, soiled with precum and spit from how he’s been using it to get off. in all honesty, it’s a pathetic sight. his mouth covered, pants pulled down and his hand desperately jerking himself off. his eyes are closed and he doesn’t even notice how loud he’s being, lost in the image of you he’s conjured in his mind.

loser!hobie who is so, so embarrassed when he finds you walking over to him. his hand slows as he looks up at you, still holding tight around his cock. his lips tremble and he tries to stand to explain himself, but you push him back down with a wide grin on your face.

loser!hobie who can’t do anything but fumble over himself and stutter as you lean down to whisper encouraging words in his ear, taking your own hand and wrapping it around his. You guide his hand up, down, up, down, showing him just how to get himself off right by squeezing his palm just the way you know he likes.

loser!hobie who gets so noisy, so whiny when you touch him anywhere else but his cock, edging him closer to release but leaving him to do all the work. your hands ghost his sides, his waist, his nipples and his neck, but never so much as let the weight of your palms fall on his skin. it has him leaking all over himself, pleas falling from his lips for you to just touch him anywhere as his hand moves faster on his cock.

loser!hobie who finally combusts when you replace his hand with yours, wrapping it around his cock and squeezing just right. it has his eyes rolling back and his back arching, his spend splattering all over your hand and his navel. it has him shaking as you help him ride out the aftershock of his orgasm, cooing in his ear about how well he’d done for you.

let’s just say he’s not opposed to stealing your underwear again if this is the result he gets.

[turtledude]

MLM FETISHIZERS DNI THIS ISNT FOR YOU!

Hobie brown with a M!reader who sleeps with a stuffed animal

Fluff ☁️ Romantic 💘

Warnings: None❤️

S/N = stufies name M/N = Male readers name

AUTHORS NOTE: I know I’ve been very inconsistent but honestly I didn’t expect people to even see the posts I made before 😭 but thank you for the support on them ❤️ I may make more tmnt content but I’m not sure when I will

Not my GIF!

This is Hobie we’re talking about, He’s not very judge-mental

I like to think the first time he found out was actually on accident. You were having one of your regular hang outs at your place, when you went to go get snacks. But you had forgotten to put S/N away.

Hobie was lounging on a chair when he saw it from the corner of his eye. Now he’s not one to pick through your stuff. He respects your space and trusts you as his boyfriend, but he assumed that since it was out, you wouldn’t mind him looking.

The thought of it being weird never really crossed his mind, he was just curious as he went to inspect the plush

That was when you walked in

You were a bit embarrassed but honestly Hobie didn’t understand why.

You told him you thought he would judge you and you forgot to put it away, and he almost laughed

“Love, I don’t care about stuff like that.” He sighed. “I mean if it makes you feel more comfortable why should I care? And besides, it’s probably better than holding a pillow.” He squished one of the pillows on your bed. “Too bulky anyway” he laughed

But yeah, if you were scared at first you won’t be pretty soon. He has a way with people like that.

He does make a joke about being jealous that you hold S/N instead of him at night but that’s just Hobie being Hobie

Overall, he loves everything about you and finds it kinda endearing too know you like things like that.

P.S. if you ever get him a plushie or win him one at an arcade or a fair, he will definitely keep it with him on missions

[kortsitron]

Corruption

✮ PARING Hobie Brown × Trans Male! Reader

✮ WARNINGS/TAGS reader realizes he's trans, pre-transition reader, religious themes, christianity, fluff, angst, supportive! hobie, reader is referred to as a girl/daughter in some moments, hobie and reader are both young adults, gender dysphoria, toxic parents, abuse, transphobia, cursing, reader is referred by she/her by his parents, happy ending

✮ SUMMARY A stranger comes to your town and helps you realize who you are

✮ A/N  If you know me, you probably know my opinion on Christianity and religion in general, but I won't lie, I kinda like the religious themes. Especially when it's about being taken out of it and realizing that the world has so much to offer once you leave it. I guess it's my type of thing since I have been raised as a catholic little ‘girl’ and now I hate religion with pure passion after having it shown down my throat for years when I was younger. One more thing, if you're not comfortable, please do not read this. I am aware there are people who can be triggered by any of the things mentioned in the warnings/tags. If you decide to read this, I hope you're going to enjoy it! <3

In a way inspired by confessions by @eyesxxyou

ao3 masterlist requests

You were such a perfect girl in everyone's eyes. Always so nice and polite, obedient towards your parents, in church every Sunday. You were so feminine, so lovely. Always wore those pretty dresses and skirts of yours, along with the necklace with virgin Mary on your pretty neck. And your gorgeous long hair. You were a perfection to everyone around you.

But you didn't feel perfect in the slightest.

You felt so wrong for some reason you couldn't quite name. Your body felt like a cage you couldn't get out of and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you wanted to cut your hair, hide your body under some baggy clothing and yell at everyone who called you a girl. But obviously you couldn't do that, no matter how much you wanted to. You didn't want people to look at you weirdly, to call you a freak. 

So you decided to stay quiet, knowing that nothing was going to change because you were too scared to do it on your own. Scared of judgment and scared of being abandoned. 

All you did was pray that your sinful fantasies would simply go away. But instead of them going away, something else happened. Like the prayers from the depth of your heart have been heard and finally answered.

You saw him after the Sunday mass, as you were standing next to your mother while she was talking with someone else. He was nothing like you've ever seen before. Those piercing glistening in the sunlight just like the spikes on his vest. The distressed pants with patches and chains. And those heavy boots. He was the definition of perfection, definitely not to those around you, but for you without a doubt.

You have caught eye contact with that beautiful stranger. His stunning brown eyes stared into yours as he smirked at you. He probably thought you were just a pretty girl, you assumed. After all, why would he think differently?

“Do not look at him.” Your mother scolded you, grabbing you by your shoulder and turning you to face her. You could see the disgust on her face. You’ve never seen her with that kind of grimace on her face. “I do not want to see you near him. I can already tell he's no good.”

She didn't say it, but you could already tell she saw him as the embodiment of everything that was sinful. And the last thing she wanted was her precious daughter to stray from God's path.

You glanced at the punk for the last time before your mother said that you were going home. He still watched you. He wasn't sure what it was about you that made him want to get to know you. But something inside him told him that you needed him.

Since then you saw him around the town, but you didn't dare to come close to him. You felt a rush of excitement in your stomach every time you saw him, saw that smirk of his. You didn't have anyone who excited you the way he did. But he indeed did excite you, but you couldn't even talk to him, being scared your parents might yell at you.

Everything changed when you were peacefully reading the bible on the bench next to the church. It was so warm and sunny, so you picked a spot under a tree. Your hair was made into a long braid that was getting more loose without you noticing. 

You then heard someone sit next to you. You looked up from the bible to see him. That beautiful punk, smirking at you shamelessly. He looked even better up close. 

“Hello, luv. I'm Hobie.” His voice was lower than you thought it would be. But it sounded so good, so smooth you could almost melt. His eyes looked from your face to the bible you held your hand, then back to your face. You started wondering what was on his mind. “What's your name, hmm?”

You bashfully told him your name. You weren't sure how to act. Was he expecting you to pretend to be this perfect girl everyone perceived you as? Or maybe he was finally someone that could let you be yourself? Either way, you were scared to find out.

He chuckled at your bashful reaction. Your cheeks got pink so quickly. You were just so adorable. And so… innocent. But you had a feeling he could see right through you. See that all of this was just a facade and under all of it, there was a real you, trying to get to the surface. Trying to be free.

“Have you ever listened to punk rock?” Hobie asked out of nowhere. You blinked. You? Listening to loud, unapologetic music? You could never do that. At least not without worrying about being judged.

Finally you shook your head and his smirk widened. “Darlin’, we have to change that immediately.” He saw you shake your head even more. 

You heard about punk rock. The unapologetic and loud music for brutal men who have abandoned God's ways and all the rules. At least that's what you have been told by your mother. “They are good for nothing but corrupting the minds of pretty girls like you. And I cannot let that happen.” She told you and you wondered if Hobie was that type of punk. The type to ruin you and corrupt you.

“I-I can't. I am not allowed to listen to that kind of music.” You looked down at the bible in your hands, you couldn't look Hobie in the eyes. You expected him to think you were weird for not being allowed to listen to what you wanted. But all you wanted was to avoid conflict.

Hobie's face went from confusion to smirk again. “Oh please. I can see that there's a little rebel hidden behind those pretty innocent eyes.” So he indeed could right through you.

You nervously played with your hair, wanting to both agree and refuse. And in a quick moment, your beautiful braid was untied. “Oh no.” You watched your hairband fall onto the grass. Hobie noticed it too. He moved and grabbed it, quickly cleaning it off from all the dirt. “Allow me.” He spoke so softly. You weren't sure if you should allow him to touch you in any way, but he just wanted to help you tie your hair, right? 

You decided not to overthink it, sitting with your back facing him, so he could tie your hair. You didn't expect it, but he was so gentle with your hair. No harsh hair pulling. His fingers parted your hand so nicely before he began to braid it. You almost melted.

And soon, you had your pretty braid again. Not as perfect as you could have done it, but it was still really nice. “Thank you so much, Hobie.” You said quietly before excusing yourself and saying you had to go. His eyes softened, he only nodded, asking if he could talk to you again. “I hate to say it, but I can't be seen with you.” 

Hobie sighed, his fingertip tapped at his lip ring, he seemed lost in thoughts. “And if we meet in secret?” He looked down at you, you were so short compared to him. “You can come over to my place, no one will know you were with me and I could show you some of my world.” He spoke so proudly when he mentioned introducing you to his world. And even though you technically shouldn't be meeting him, you were more than curious. So you agreed at last.

Obviously, someone saw you with Hobie. Your parents weren't proud of you for talking to him. You had no other choice than to lie, just like you did when it came to who you really felt about yourself. 

Yes, I like this dress. 

Yes, I like those shoes.

Yes, my hair is so pretty when it's so long.

Yes, I am a girl.

You had to lie, even though you wish you didn't have to. But you hoped that at the end of the day, when you were praying before going to sleep, God would forgive you for lying to everyone around you. He would understand, right?

So, as always, you lied, telling your parents that Hobie asked for some help because he was a newcomer and didn't know the town very well. Your parents weren't happy you talked to him, but knew, or at least believed, you were too good and polite to refuse to help him. They didn't think twice about it, allowing you to go to your room. They didn't mention Hobie braiding your hair, so you just assumed they didn't know about it, so you decided not to mention it either. It was better to keep your mouth shut.

You were careful when the day of visiting Hobie came. You told your parents that you went to study the bible at your friend's house. They didn't suspect a thing. You made sure no one could see you as you made your way to Hobie's apartment. And soon enough, you were in front of the door of his apartment.

You knocked lightly, heard the sound of locks being unlocked and then the door finally opened. You saw Hobie and he looked at you with that same softness like the last time. But this time he rubbed one eye with a cotton pad. You had a look of confusion on your face when you saw that.

“Come in, luv.” He moved so you could come inside, but instead of looking around, you watched him.

“Are you… wiping off your makeup?” The question sounded so stupid in your mind. Men weren't wearing makeup… right?

Hobie chuckled softly before going to the bathroom to wipe the makeup off more precisely in front of the mirror. You saw a few small eyeshadow palettes with bright eyeshadow in them, along with eyeliner and even two lipsticks. Even you didn't own that much makeup, you barely had any makeup since your parents didn't want you to paint your face like a whore.

“Yeah. I have been to a small party outside the town, so I wanted to look me best.” Hobie explained, before throwing a dirty pad into the bin. He then turned to you, it was obvious that you never saw a man wearing makeup before. You've never seen someone like him before. He allowed himself to check you out, you had a long skirt and a cute top that matched the skirt so well. “I am guessing you never wore the kind of makeup I usually go for?”

His hand grabbed one of the eyeshadow palettes and gave it to you, so you could see the inside better. You didn't think much and opened it. You hand one makeup palette and it was mostly light browns, one a little more glittery eyeshadow and two light pinks. But Hobie’s? It was so colorful. Red, blue, green and yellow. All of them so bright and pigmented.

He smiled when he saw your reaction, he felt excitement in his stomach. You looked stunned. “Why don't I finally show you that punk rock?” He left the bathroom and you followed him. His apartment was a little messy. Posters on every wall, some chokers and other jewelry scattered in some places and some clothes laying around. But his room was even better. It was so… him. You could see the room scream Hobie. Even more posters, a guitar. It might have been a little messy, but it had so much character.

Hobie moved to the old cd player and in the matter of seconds, the loud music played. Black Flag on full volume. At first you weren't sure what to think, but soon, you started loving it. You stopped caring about anything when the music played, banging your head to the rhythm. At first a little shyly, but then you were more confident about it, not caring if you were going to mess up your hair. You looked so happy, you felt so happy. It has been since you felt like that.

Even since Hobie came here, he finally saw your smile, the real and sincere smile on that face of yours. But he saw it falter when Can't Decide by the Black Flag started playing.

Sun's coming up and I can't decide

To spill my emotions or keep them inside

Go for a drive, go to the store

I'm looking for something that can't be bought there

I always wear a smile

Because anything but a smile would make me have to explain

And they wouldn't understand anyway

And they wouldn't understand anyway

I conceal my feelings so I won't have to explain

What I can't explain anyway

It hit so close to home, you almost started sobbing. Hobie saw it immediately and turned the music off. He sat next to you, one arm around you while he rubbed your arm with the other to comfort you. He barely knew you, but he was so concerned about your well being already. “What happened, dove?” He asked so quietly, almost as if he was scared he might make you start crying just by asking.

But you weren't ready to admit what has been going inside your head for months. And he could see that so well. A few tears went down your cheeks so you asked for a tissue. You smudged your makeup a bit, but luckily Hobie was able to fix it with the only brown palette he owned, the one had forgotten about since he never used it.

You gathered your things and apologized. “Don't apologize, luv. Just know you can come and talk about what's going on in that pretty head of yours.” You only nodded before leaving. 

Your parents weren't home by the time you came back, they were probably in the neighbor's house, talking and eating how they did once in a while. Probably praising you how good and obedient you were, and how they were happy to have a daughter like you.

And after that situation at Hobie's place, it became harder to pretend. It became hard not to cry when you were called a perfect daughter, pretty girl and beautiful woman. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to talk with someone about it. And the only person who would not judge you was Hobie. 

It has been a while since you talked to him. But you came back, trembling, looking like you were about to start crying at any given moment. Hobie didn't think twice, he just let you in, sat down on the floor while he seated you on his bed. His calloused hands found yours and he caressed them gently in order to comfort you.

And finally, after all this time, you opened up about what has been on your mind for all those months. You explained how you felt trapped in your own body, how you hated being seen as a girl and how much it hurt when you were called and seen as one. How much you just wanted to be yourself.

Hobie's eyes softened, his hand touched your delicate cheek as his thumb stroked it. You didn't flinch away from his touch, instead you leaned into his hand, enjoying the way he touched you. “Darlin’, I think you might be trans.”

“I might be what?” Your nose was already stuffed from all that crying, making your voice sound funny. Hobie sighed before his lips curled into the soften of smiled. 

“Trans, hun.” You still looked confused, but he wasn't going to blame you. You've been living in a place where you were too scared to be yourself, you couldn't name your feelings even though you have been feeling them for months. It was obvious these people weren't talking about things like that, at least not in the way that would make you want to explore those feelings.

“It's uh, it's when your body doesn't match how you feel on the inside. Like you, you have been born as a woman, but you don't feel like one, don't you?” You shook your head, of course you didn't feel like a woman. Thinking about yourself as a woman didn't feel right. 

Hobie got an idea. “Why don't you go to the bathroom and take all of that off? I'll bring ya some clothes and then you'll tell me how you feel.” He helped you with making your way to the bathroom and closed the door after you. You took off the dress, standing in nothing more than your underwear. It felt a bit less suffocating to not be wearing that stupid dress.

Soon, you heard Hobie knock on the door. “I have some stuff I think might look good on you.” You covered yourself with the towel that was near you, not wanting for Hobie to see your body. But he didn't even peek in, instead he held the clothes for you, letting you grab them before he quickly closed the door behind him.

You looked down at the clothes. Some distressed jeans with patches and studded belt, white shirt with some graffiti, which you assumed was decorated by Hobie himself and even some hand warmers to match the outfit.

You had put on the outfit and left the bathroom, only to see Hobie waiting for you. His eyes sparkled when he saw you. And he could see it in your face that you felt better. He looked so excited for you.

But you still had that long braid. “Let me…” Hobie murmured before you felt him touch your hair again. You weren't sure what he did exactly, but when you stepped in front of the mirror, your hair looked so short. It wasn't perfect, but you loved how your hair looked, way more than it looked in a braid, ponytail or any other hairstyle you were used to. You looked like a boy, and you were so happy.

At that very moment, you knew you couldn't go back to how your life was before. You couldn't go back to wearing dresses, praying to the God that probably never listened to you and did not care about you. You could no longer pretend that you were the perfect girl you were seen as until now.

Hobie's hands grabbed you by your shoulder. “Do you want me to call by a different name?” He asked, glancing at your reflection in the mirror as he rubbed your shoulders. You thought about it for a moment, before looking up at him and speaking up. “Do you think [Name] would suit me?”

Hobie chuckled and nodded. “Definitely, luv. Definitely.” He couldn't help himself and softly kissed your cheek. You were surprised by the sudden affection, but you enjoyed it.

“I want you to cut my hair. I want it short..” You said so suddenly, your voice was a little shaky, but you couldn't wait anymore. You have wanted to cut it for a while and you didn't want anyone else other than Hobie to do it. He was surprised by you. He didn't expect you to want to do it now.

“Are you su–” 

“Yes, I am sure.” You cut him off, you didn't want to be mean, but you couldn't wait any longer. “Please… I don't want to go back to what was before. I don't want to pretend to be someone who I am not.” You begged, you sounded so desperate. He couldn't say no to you when you sounded like that.

“Okay.” He said, giving your shoulders a squeeze before he took you to the bathroom. He brought a small stool and seated you on it. He grabbed a scissors, untied your hair, looking at it for the last time before he started cutting it. You squeezed your eyes shut, your stomach swirling with anxiety, as you listened to the sound of the scissors cutting your hair.

Snip! Snip! Snip!

You felt your hair, your hair that you got so many compliments on, tickling your arms and neck before it fell down on the bathroom floor. “Done.” Hobie said, his voice was flat. It made you worry. Did you look bad? Did he mess up your hair? Was it a mistake?

He brushed the cut hair off of you, before you stood up and looked in the mirror. It was not perfect, but it still made you feel good. You started sobbing immediately. “Dove? Are you alright?” Hobie asked, worried and a little panicked.

“I've never felt better.” You sobbed out and he sighed, relieved that you liked it. He hugged you tightly, being so glad to see you happy with who you were.

But it couldn't go on forever. You came home pretty late, still wearing the clothes Hobie gave you earlier. And in the hoodie he gave so you wouldn't be cold while coming back home. You knew confrontation wouldn't be something you were able to avoid . And you knew it wouldn't be a light confrontation either.

Your parents were sitting in the living room. As soon as you closed the front door behind you, you heard your father call you by the name you no longer wished to be called by. You took a deep breath, pulling a hood over your head before you entered the living room. Your parents eyes were immediately on you, your mother gasped loudly.

“What the fuck is that!?” Your father yelled, he stood up and grabbed you by the hood and yanked it off your head. He intended to grab you by your hair, but there was nothing to grab. Your lovely long hair was long gone and there was nothing they could do about it. In a way, that made you proud.

“What have you done to yourself!?” Your mother shouted with tears in her eyes. You've never seen her crying and you didn't expect her to get so emotional. She always seemed so cold. “Where's your hair? Your dress?” She's never been so panicked. “What will we say to the others once they see that your hair is gone? What will they think of us? What will they think of you?”

There was this need to apologize, turn the time back and never let yourself explore who you really were. But you weren't going to let this need win. You have been obedient for way too long. You were pretending for way too long and now? You were tired of it.

“I don't fucking care what are they going to think of me!” You shouted back. Both of your parents were startled by the fact that you just cursed. They never heard you curse, nor did they hear you sound so confident. “I have been pretending to be someone who I wasn't me for way too long. I am not going to let you decide about how I am anymore!” 

Slap!

Your father slapped you so hard you fell to the floor. Your cheek was all red already. You and your mother were both shocked. Your father was about to take his belt off and start beating you, but your mother stopped him. “I am sure there's something we can do instead of beating her up. People will notice and they might think we were the one to cut her hair off. We can buy a wig until her hair grows back.”

“I am not growing it back and I am not putting the dresses back on.” You hissed. Maybe you shouldn't have done that, but you ripped off the virgin Mary necklace off your neck and threw it.

Your parents were more than shocked at your action. “She must have been corrupted by that punk!” Your mother cried out. “What are we going to–” Your father lost his temper. Instead of beating you up like he initially planned, he grabbed you and threw you out the door. “I no longer have a daughter!” It was the last thing you heard before he closed the door.

Soon, your father started throwing your things out the window. All those gorgeous dresses and skirts flying out the window. Before you were terrified to even slightly rip them and now? You didn't care that they got dirty, they stopped mattering to you. You only waited for your father to throw your phone. You wanted to catch it, but it fell onto the concrete, the phone screen broke, but luckily for you, you still were able to use it. You grabbed some more important things that your father had thrown and then made your way to Hobie's apartment.

He was concerned, but both of you knew it was better that way. If you stayed, nothing would change and everything would go worse. More praying, more femininity, more pretending. But you weren't going to stay with your parents, luckily Hobie said you could stay with him.

You were laying with Hobie in his bed. You were so lost in your thoughts and he could see it clearly. Hobie laid on his side to face you, the tips of his fingers brushed against your jaw to get your attention. You turned to look at him. “You okay?” You put your hands on your face and sighed.

“I'm fine. It’s just… I've wanted to be myself for a while and I…” You paused for a moment, not looking into Hobie's eyes. In a way, it all felt unreal. Usually, you would now be in your bed, reading the bible or praying. And now, you were laying with a man you didn't know very well, but he gave you everything you could have asked for. Acceptance, help and hope. 

Your eyes finally met his again. “I didn't expect that it would actually happen. I thought I was going to be everyone's perfect girl until I die, but you came into my life and changed everything. Thank you so much for that.” You smiled at him, you were so grateful he came into your life. He smiled back at you and leaned to kiss your cheek.

“You're very welcome, luv.” 

You both left the town as quickly as you could since that happened. Now, it has been 6 years since the day you met him. Everything has been truly perfect since then. Your transition was going well and you recently had your top surgery.

And Hobie? He was with you the whole time. During the first appointment at the doctor, he helped you take your first testosterone shot and he held your hand both before and after the surgery.

Life couldn't be more perfect and you never felt more perfect.

taglist: @sk3llly

[prismuffin]

i plan to be ur #1 spiderverse x transmasc reader requester, esp for Hobie 🙏🏽 I had this idea in my head for a bit and was honestly nervous to ask again 😭 but, could you do a Hobie x ftm!reader askfic where Hobie just kinda remind him to stop binding since he had been saving peole all day in his binder? im so stimmy for this kinda stuff 😸‼️

Sorry it's finals week for my summer classes so I've been ignoring certain asks! Still, now that I'm (almost) finished with them I think that-

He has a specific time set in the day where he thinks you should stop binding. From the hypothetical time you get up to around now. If you were on patrols together he'd remind you to remove the binding device as soon as you were done fighting the most recent bad guy. Stopping on a nearby roof to tell you, saying that you should probably go home and rest as well. He knows it's not the most comfortable thing for you to be binding while swinging through the city all day and night and he doesn't want to passing out on him. If he wasn't patrolling with you that night he shoots you a text to remind you. Then sends another a few minutes later and then another until you respond saying that you did. If you still don't he'll call you and you better pick up or he's coming out there himself. Reminds you that it's not your appearance that makes you male and tells you to forget about the capitalists that say otherwise.

———

Directory

[aliorsboxostuff]

hi V3 I am so sorry i am BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX OMGGG but I totally forgot the character Id like is Hobie, I think cause I was talking about him I thought I said his name but i forgor ty bae ily 🤗🤗🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️

HOBIEEE gotta be my fav 2nd to Miguel, i’m working on a fanart of that cool mf too. He’s such an interesting character to write, i’m honestly pretty sad i only thought something so short for this HC’s T-T I hope you enjoy this though big man, Hobie is definitely the type to hang out with you when youre going through those rough times <3

"Anythin' you wanna be."

Tags: Hobie Brown & ftm!Reader, fluff, dysphoria, Headcanons, going through those tough times, Hobie being the Homie he is, Reader is implied a Spider-person, But also up to interpretation, Comfort and Fluff, no angst

Hobie Brown headcanons for anyone that’s going through those dysphoric episodes <3

first of all, let's get one thing straight here: Hobie FULLY SUPPORTS you being trans

He doesn't see you as anything fem aligned unless said otherwise

lets you crash in his universe, especially when you need it

he thrifts a lot of big and baggy jackets and sweaters, only to give them to you saying he "bought the wrong size"

There's definitely a couple of sweaters from his own wardrobe that you've stolen

you've definitely worn his jacket that he usually wears over his spidey suit, it makes you feel as cool as him

he made you your own jacket, with a trans pin and another with his Spidey logo

lets you borrow anything you want because he knows it makes you feel good 

the type to check in on you if you've been binding the whole day

When things get too much and you feel bad in your own skin, Hobie would spend time with you in his universe

he makes you a comfy fort blanket where you can stay and watch anything you please while he plucks the strings of his guitar on the floor

definitely, the type to get you anything you wanna eat when you've lost your appetite 

stays by your side, letting you lean on him when you seek comfort

If it gets too much as tears start to fall, he’ll hold you through it, brings you into his arms while you let all those feelings out

Rakes his fingers through your hair or just likes softly petting you if it helps you calm down 

completely understands if you need some alone time when dealing with dysphoria, making sure you have enough snacks and water before he leaves to hang somewhere else

he's the spokesperson whenever you wanna be left alone, making sure the others won't bother you too

Says "You're cooler than me mate, cooler than Miles too,"

says dumb shit like; "You are the manliest man to ever man," or "No one does a better job being a boy than you," Just to make you feel better

his side-eye game STRONG 💪dont look at you weird or he'll give them a bone-chilling, soul-crushing, ‘wish I was dead’ side eye

He and Pav is the type to make little trinkets for their friends tbh, he deff makes pins from bottle caps and gives them to you

His favorite spot to bring you when you feel down is near the top of any tall building, bringing snacks and a blanket. He says it makes him feel better knowing everyone is so small, and the world is huge, so in the end, nothing really matters and so be whatever the fuck you wanna be.

Requests are open! Reblogs are appreciated <3

[insuke69]

Scars that make you who you are.

☆ Hobie x FTM trans reader

Transphobia will be blocked <33

★Warnings: Angst, kissing, cursing, body dysmorphia, misgendering mentioned

☆ Rating: 13+

★Symposis: You’re feeling self conscious about your surgery scars, but luckily you have Hobie to help you through it.

☆ 827 Words, Drabble nibble.

You transitioned a while back, hell, most people in your life didn’t really know that you’re trans besides friends who knew you pre-transition and your family, and of course your partner, Hobie, knows too.

You’ve managed to save enough money to be able to afford your top surgery and finally stop wearing binders all the time! You’re comfortable in your own skin for the first time in a while, you finally no longer feel like the boy who had to wear dresses because he was stuck in a feminine body. You were living your life no longer being deadnamed and no longer being referred to with ‘she/her’.

You had your top surgery and had the beautifully flat chest you deserved, yet two crescent lines where the stitches stayed. You remember researching and looking through so many websites stating that it usually takes over six months for the insisions to heal, but thankfully the doctor elaborated, saying that the scars will stay for at least a year, so you knew you had to deal with it.

Besides that, you felt.. Not good. You knew you were lucky to finally have what so many other people wish to afford at all, you finally got rid of those pesky breasts that wouldn’t leave you alone since you were ten. But here you were: shirtless in the mirror with your hands ghosting over your chest.

It’s been a few months, around six months, you’re all healed and aren’t that sore anymore, but your stitches still hurt like if the needle and thread were just stabbed into your sensitive flesh. It already is taking so long for you to heal at all, how the scars have to heal before you can even think about being shirtless comfortably at all? And what about Hobie? What if he isn’t willing to wait with you? Or if-

“Oi, Love, Have you seen my-” Hobie just opened the bathroom door, since you two live together and his gaze was averted towards the sink for what he was looking for, but he paused and looked at your expression before murmuring “ring..”

You look over at him and hesitantly cross your arms over your chest. You haven’t really been topless in front of Hobie since before the surgery, either because you had bandages around you most of the time, or because you didn’t feel confident enough in front of him no matter what the scenario was..

“You alrigh’?” He asked as he walked over to you and settled his hands on your shoulders from behind, his gaze locked with yours in the mirror in front of you two.

His warm hands sooth your skin on your shoulders, relaxing the tense muscles that laid below your flesh. “Nothing, Nothing, just.. I don’t know, my scars feel shitty.”

Hobie’s gaze softened and wrapped his arms around your torso with his hands easing over yours, “Yeah? Why? Does i’ hur’?”

“No, I don’t like them right now, the stitches are healed at least, but they look so shitty.”

As you spoke, Hobie began ghosting gentle kisses on your shoulders and back of your neck, his hands easing yours to relax and to loosen your hold so he could see the remnants of your surgery.

“No way, You’ve go’a be fuckin’ wit’ me.” He murmured almost jokingly as his hands went to your waist and rested on your abdomen from behind, “You’re so handsome, so perfect- tits or nah, scars and all.” You felt his warm breath and lip piercing flush against the side of your neck below your ear. 

His lips closed over your skin and began kissing and sucking your sweet and soft flesh, littering purple bruises on their wake.

You chuckle and tilt your head to the side to give him more access to you, “Sure. Yeah, You’re willing to wait over a year for them to even start to fade?” You asked sarcastically which made Hobie stop kissing your neck and frown at you through the mirror.

His hold hardened and he spun you so you were now facing him and placing a hand on your lower jaw in order to make you look up at him, “I’m willing to wait decades for you just to be able t’see your smile, You won’ be rid of me until I see you adore that boy in the mirror.” 

You smiled at his words, feeling like a warmth in them is sending pure love into your heart, probably because of the pure adoration in his eyes, or the blatant truth he’s saying. Fully confident in himself and reassurance.

He smiles at you before leaning down and kissing your lips, holding you by the hips as he pulled you up onto the bathroom counter. You reciprocate with your same passion while wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Now c’mon, let me adore my man.” Hobie cooed as he eased his hands over your thighs and glide to your knees to spread them.

_____________________

Stopping it right before the smut like a true writer <3

[eyesxxyou]

❝ nude bodies ❞ (artist!hobie x trans ftm!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. friends to lovers, a little bit of awkwardness, oral (reader receiving), fingering (reader receiving), reader has a t-dick, very sweet sex (bordering on love making), creampie, hobie gets a little sappy at the end. you've been long time best friends with hobie for years, both secretly pining after each other. you both think nothing will ever come of your feelings until hobie asks to draw you nude.

wc: 5k

The sun was hot on your face. The rough sound of pencil meeting paper tickled your ears. Hobie hummed a soft tune while his hand carved out the rough shapes of your face into paper. His eyes kept flicking from his sketchbook to you, his gaze lingering on your closed eyes before wandering a little lower to trace the shape of your honeydew lips.

He reached out, his hand tenderly caressing the side of your face to get you to turn your head to the slightest degree so that the sun hit your face at just the right angle to make you glow honey gold. He touched you like a masterpiece, one of the old greats, like you would crumble if pressed too hard. His thumb traced your lip and you shivered ever so slightly.

“Have ya ever though’ of letting me draw ya nude?” Hobie had a way of saying things. Careless or carefree, you chose because he doesn't have the energy to do it himself, too busy drawing or playing the guitar.

You open your eyes, a deep frown painting itself across your honeydew lips. “You want to draw me what?” You sat up on your arms and Hobie sat up with you on his knees, his hand on your chest to push you back down onto the smooth wood of his deck. “Nude. Was I no’ loud enough? Keep still, dove. ‘m no’ done.”

You sigh and relent, laying back in the sun with your head tilted towards him to catch the golden rays. Hobie settled back down beside you and began sketching again.

You won't say Hobie didn't rattle something within you. Nude was intimate, nude meant vulnerable, nude meant served on a platter with all your feelings splayed out so brazenly before him. You couldn't hide anything from him while naked, couldn't hide how every gentle touch of his warm fingertips made your heart leap and your groin ache with feelings you’re forced to call want. You couldn't hide from his wandering gaze powdered with the stark neutrality of someone who didn't care either way.

“Why would you want to draw me naked?” You try not to move too much while you talk, try not to make a big deal out of his request. Why would he want to draw your body? Your body didn't look like everyone else's, the crescent-shaped twin scars cupping your chest made sure of that. Not to mention all the changes gone on between your legs. You’re not the most ideal person in the world to draw nude according to every societal standard.

But Hobie wasn't one to care about a social standard. “Why wouldn' I? I draw ya all the time. Yer my lovely lil muse.” He touched his pencil behind his ear and set his sketchbook down closed beside him. He shifted himself, laid down right beside you with his head propped up on his hand, looking down on you as you lay below him.

Hobie reached out and pinched your cheek. “Jus’ think ‘bout i’. No pressure. I wan’cha to be comfortable with the idea.” He lied down completely beside you, just the two of you lying on the deck of his boat, shirtless, arms touching all the way from shoulder down to the backs of your hands. You could grab his hand if you wanted to. He could grab yours. Your finger twitches with the idea of it. But that's not what friends do.

“What would happen if I agreed?” You asked timidly. Hobie turned his head, eyes carefully tracing the lines of your side profile. “We’d wait a week before we did anythin’. Jus’ in case you became a chicken and wan’ed to back ou’.” He teased as he always did and that set you at ease as you turned your head to meet his gaze.

His deep-set eyes traced the contours of your face with dedication and admiration. If you hadn't known any better you might have said he did it lovingly. But he was an artist at the end of the day and your best friend. Any love he had beyond a platonic one was for what you do for his art. “You bring it to life.” He once said. He did not love you the way you loved him. You were sure of it.

“Lemme finish this piece then we can grab a bite, yeah?” Hobie sat up and placed his hand on your chest, patting you the way a friend pats another in the back. He doesn't let his touch linger even though every atom of your body begged and pleaded for him to just touch you, touch you anywhere, you didn't care where. Just let it stay there, let it linger a little longer, let it hold so you might know that he's real and he’s yours.

You consider it while he draws with your eyes closed and your hands resting on your belly, tracing imaginary lines and imagining it’s Hobie doing it with the tips of his nimble fingers. He wouldn't make it weird, wouldn't tease you about it for the rest of your lives, wouldn't embarrass you by telling others. That's not how he is. It would just be between the two of you, from one man to another.

Hobie sits beside you in silence, hoping he didn't ruin anything you two had, the soft progress you have made with each other years in the making. He’s been dropping hints for years now, the obvious ones only made in the last few months. Unnecessary lingering touches, brushing his hand against yours to give you the opportunity to grab on and stay that way. He holds your face so softly so fucks sake, leans in so close he might just kiss you but leaves it to you to make the final move. You never do. He called you his muse, told you his art is nothing without you and yet you still look at him with that blank, oblivious look in your eyes that makes him want to tell you straight up that he’s in love with you. You’d probably still tilt your head like a puppy, confused and unknowing.

His eyes lavish over your body, every piece of exposed skin being feasted upon by his greedy gaze. Your eyes are closed, you’d never know. He wants to trace his fingers along your scars, kiss them, kiss you, feel your skin on his and know you a little more than he already does.

“I’ll do it.” You concede. “You can’t show it to anyone though. I’d die of humiliation.”

“Never planned to, dove.” Hobie smiled. “It’ll just be between me ‘n you. It’s just anatomy practice.” Anatomy practice sounded good, sounded reasonable, sounded like he wasn't just trying to find any excuse to witness you naked. Did it make him sick, perverted, what he’d end up doing with that drawing as he did with nearly all his other drawings of you? Did it make him bad that he’d end up with his hand firmly wrapped around his cock, pleading for a single moment, a single chance? Did it make him wrong that he’d ruin the page with cum and would have to redraw it all over again?

You remind him, “I don't have regular anatomy.”

“I don't need regular, dove.” Hobie looks up from his sketchbook, flipping his pencil to erase a small imperfection in his work. “I just need you.”

-

Hobie gave you a week. An entire week to reconsider and yet you remained steadfast in your decision. It wouldn't be weird. Hobie has a way of making awkward situations completely comfortable with his light-heartedness. He never took anything seriously so why should you?

Boarding his boat meant accepting wholly that you’d be naked in front of him and a part of you, while nervous, was comfortable with that. If you were to be naked in front of anyone in the entire world, you’d want it to be your best friend, the person you trust most in this world.

Hobie was waiting for you inside, guitar in lap while strumming some cords to a melody he was humming. You kicked your shoes off at the door and let it slam shut behind you as if it were sealing you in. You can't back out now. You had promised.

Hobie put his guitar down on it’s display rack and tossed the pick into a small box of picks he had sitting on a small table beside his bed. “Mr. Punctuality ova here. I wasn' expectin’ ya fo’ anotha hour.” He hopped down from the ledge he was sitting on, stumbling a bit but ultimately landing on his feet. He came over and tossed an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his body for a half-hearted hug.

“You told me to come at 1.”

“But when I say tha’ I really mean 2. You know ion run on other people's time.” He offered a cheeky little dimpled smile across those dark lips of his that you adored more than you could ever say. He rubbed your shoulder a little before patting it and letting you go. You wanted to run back to him, to tell him to embrace you once more but fully this time. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by doing so.

“Are ya sure ya do this?” He offered you one last chance to back out before the two of you started. “We can always stop if ya feel uncomfortable,” he assured you.

You nodded slowly, lips curling into a soft, self-assuring smile. “I’m okay. Let’s do this.” Your heart beat so hard in your chest you could feel it in your throat and hear it in your ears. You balled your hands into fists, thumbs in your palms, squeezing with anxiety. You trusted him, knew he would do nothing to make you feel uncomfortable.

“I’ll be back in a momen’, you can get on the bed when you’re ready.” Hobie went to leave to afford you some privacy. You appreciated his thoughtfulness and watched him go with a shaky breath. You wrung your hands, grasping the hem of your shirt to sooth yourself before you began.

You started with your shirt, pulling it over your head and folding it up neatly before placing it on the edge of Hobie’s bed. That was soon followed by your pants, then your underwear. You’re not used to being naked, especially not in Hobie’s boathouse. You felt vulnerable, your hands immediately went to cup your love and cover yourself without so much as a second thought.

You climbed up onto Hobie’s bed and covered yourself with his duvet, waiting for him to return so that you can get this over with. You tell yourself it’s for anatomy practice, that it’s nothing more than that. But there’s something oddly intimate about being wrapped up in his planets, lying in his bed with his deep, musky scent permeating your senses and soothing your raging nerves.

You lay there with your face pressed into his pillow awaiting Hobie’s return. Your fingers gripped his sheets, twisting and fingering the fabric anxiously as you watch the door crack open and Hobie’s head poke inside to ensure you’re properly prepared. He saw you curled up in his bed and smiled with a tender softness. “You ready?”

You nodded, nipping at your bottom lip. Hobie came shuffling in, closing the door behind himself gently. He rummaged about his flat, grabbing his sketchbook and a sharpened pencil before coming over to you in his bed.

Hobie climbed in with you, shuffling over to kneel beside your covered body. He set his sketchbook down and carefully reached out to grasp the edge of the blanket you had covered your modesty up with. “May I?” His eyes were soft looking upon you, they ask for permission too, ask for you to let your guard down for just a moment. They ask for you to trust him

You do. You trust him wholeheartedly. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you nod subtly and let go of the blanket. You let him peel it away from you but your hands return between your legs to keep yourself covered.

“Jus' relax f’me, dove.” His slender fingers grasped your wrists, carefully and gently pulling them away from your tender lips. You don't resist him, you let him take your hands in his and remove them from the spot where you find yourself feeling the most vulnerable. There's something about his touches that feels more intimate than before. Your nudity amplified every caress of his hand against your skin. You could feel it linger throughout your body.

Hobie gazed at you, his eyes scanning down the length of your trembling body, hitching at your chest and groin for just a lingering moment. You don’t hear the way he murmurs soft prayers under his breath, a plea for strength, for the worthiness to admire such a sacred body in its most bare state.

Starting the sketch was the hardest part. Hobie was used to touching you, holding your face, dragging a finger along the curve of your jaw, his fingertips kissing your eyelids, tracing the underside of your lips. He was a physical learner and with time, he knew your face like he knew his own palm, all the lines and shadows that made it up.

But he didn’t know your body. Not the way he wanted to.

You could see the frustration crossing his face as he turned his pencil and erased his work for the second time, “Is there anything I can do to help?” Your voice was timid and beautiful, ringing with an air of genuine concern. You hadn’t expected Hobie to ask to touch you.

“F’r visual purposes only. I don’ – know ya body yet. No’ like I know ya face.” His hands wrung against his lap, refraining from making himself too comfortable with your pretty body. He imagined your skin would be soft beneath his palms, supple as he dipped his graphite-covered fingers into your flesh. “You don’t have’ta.”

“You can.” You say almost too quickly. Did he catch the desperation in your voice? Did he catch the way you leaned in just a little further, the way you crossed your legs at the mere thought of his hands stroking down the length of your bare skin. Had you given yourself away? Had you shown all of your cards like an amateur?

You watched Hobie place his things down and come over to climb back onto the bed with you. You sat up and let out a startled little gasp. Hobie was suddenly closer than you had expected, sitting beside you with his hands on either side of your legs to prop himself up.

“Jus’ tell me when t’stop, yeah?”

He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help but to touch. Hobie started at your face, the familiarity of it offering you ease and comfort. His hand cupped your cheek. Brushing a soft thumb under your eyes, palm cupping along your jaw and his thumb moving up slightly to skim over your soft eyelid. The pads of his fingers move to your lips, tracing them left to right, right to left. His eyes flick between your lips and your coy gaze, too shy to fully meet his every time he looks at you.

His other hand skimmed at your waist. His fingertips touching at your chest, tracing your scars with such loving care. Hobie likes the way you shiver under his touch, likes the way your body rolls as he makes his way lower to your belly where your happy trail begins, leading lower and lower. He doesn’t go all the way though you so desperately wished he would.

His hand touches your thigh, the other trailing down your shoulder, to your elbow, to your hand where his fingers slip beneath yours. Before you know it, your fingers are laced with his. There was something so innocent about it, something so beautiful and soft. His hand on your thigh, tracing circles into your flesh felt just as innocent in the beginning. But his fingers were trailing .along your inner thigh, gripping the flesh there with something far darker that anything platonic.

It was hard not to melt into his touch, a touch so hot that it left your skin burning where he met it. Your chest burned with desire. Your gaze, a little more brazen now, showed as much. You swallowed thickly as you caught Hobie’s gaze and suddenly you were doing just the same as him, staring at that lip piercing that glinted under the dim lighting of his bedroom.

It was the same thought that crossed your minds.

“Can I kiss ya?”

“For your drawing, right?”

Hobie nodded slowly, leaning in with a subtle tilt of his head. His lips hovered slightly over yours, not exactly kissing you but not, not kissing you either. “Yeah…for the drawin’.” He whispered against your lips, taking them with his. He kissed you like he’s been waiting for this moment since he’s known you. Kissed you like he needed this, kiss you in a way that said “if you stop, I’ll die.”

He can't help the way his hands wander, touching you in places he'd never even dreamt of touching in the first place as his hands grow more greedy. His hands trail everywhere, feeling your skin grow warm under his touch as he commits every brush of skin against skin.

You could feel a heat pool between your legs, your pussy ached and your dick throbbed to attention with each inch gained by Hobie’s fingers closer to your wanton core. You spread your legs for him, silent permission for him to touch where he pleased and where you craved.

Hobie did not touch you there, not yet. His hand held your waist and his lips began to trace a trail down the side of your neck, placing sloppy, open mouth kisses on your exposed flesh leading down to your chest. He peppered kisses along the crescents of your scars, worshiping exactly where they cut into you and made you a little more of who you are.

His lips pressed kisses down your naval. His hand gripped yours tighter. “Lay back, luv.” His free hand pushed you back gently, coaching you to lie in the mess of pillows stained with his scent. Hobie held your smaller hand, pressing it into the mattress, his free hand still roaming and touching and studying your warm body.

How could he possibly go back to pencil and paper after this? His drawings could never satisfy him now that he’s gotten a taste of the real thing. His art was meaningless now, served no purpose now that your flesh was beneath his tongue, in his hands, gripping, touching, loving.

He’s come on your face a thousand times over in his mind, on his page. But he could not bear the idea of sullying your sacred body with such degeneracy. Hobie would only touch, only please. He would come last.

He settled himself between your legs, his hand parting them a little further until your pretty, wet lips parted with a nice, creamy sound. You turned your head away, embarrassed but Hobie found it quite lovely. You are hard and wet for him, your sweet, little cock firm behind the hood.

Hobie kissed your pelvis just above your t-dick, ending his journey to where you desired him the most. He glanced up at you and found your eyes cast away with what could only read as humiliation.

“C’mon, dove, look a’ me.” He kissed the tip of your dick and smiled as you shuddered with something of a pathetic moan. You willed yourself to look at him with timid eyes. Hobie kissed your tip again, his fingers pulling back your hood to give him more space to work. His tongue licked firm strokes between your soaked lips all the way up to your pretty cock which he licks then takes into his mouth.

He sucked on the engorged bundle of nerves, swollen and sensitive on his tongue. Hobie worships the way you cry a little, your back arching from the sheets, his tongue stroking lick after lick against the tip, each one sending jolts of pleasure throughout your heated body.

You placed one of your hands on the back of his head, not applying pressure but to give him a few encouraging scratches to his scalp. “Just like that, keep going.” Your body shows all its cards and you couldn't care in the slightest. Breathless moans and soft whimpers keep him going, keeps him sucking your pretty dick with his tongue occasionally lapping at your sweet little hole.

Hobie used his fingers to stroke between your pussy lips where you ached the most. It was easy to ease a finger in with how utterly soaked you were and with a few slow pumps, the second finger was not too far behind.

He took his time with you, unraveling you like a gift splayed out before him. He could rush, he could take what he needed but he wanted this to be slow, intimate. He needed to tell you just how much he worshiped his body of yours, how much he valued every piece of flesh you offered up to him. He needed to study you, inside and out.

Your hushed moans were beautiful and the whines the broke out between them were just the same. “My lil’ muse.” He hummed against your cock, kissing it and the flesh around it in an act of praise. His fingers worked in and out of you, curled in search of that gummy little ridge that would send you into orbit and make this all the better for you.

He knew he found it when you let out a nice, little, high-pitched moan and your whole body lept. Hobie chuckled softly, much to your dismay and rubbed you at your sweet spot right where you needed him.

“Why– fuck~ why are you always…so mean. L-laughing at me ‘n all.” You pant out, hips bucking against his soaked fingers, all your pretty, little parts rubbing against his knuckles.

“On the contrary, I think ‘m bein’ rather nice, don' you?” He kissed your belly, slowly making his way back up your body to find your lips again. “I only wanna be sweet wit’cha, luv.” His lips pecked yours once, twice, before he kissed you fully again. His fingers thrust into you, his thumb playing with your dick to keep you nice and stimulated. “You don't think ‘m bein’ sweet?”

You shook your head and he pressed his fingers into your sweet spot to make you gasp. “I-I think you’re the meanest person I know, Hobes.” You wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him in, your lips still stealing kisses from one another. “I think you’re mean peck ‘cause peck it’s your fingers inside me and not peck you.”

“I can change tha’. I can be so nice t’ya.”

You’re lucky he’s in his pajamas and not his entire getup. It’s easy to get him to pull himself out of his pants enough to reveal his length to you. He’s thick and long, nothing to make a passing statement at. He slips his fingers from your eager cunt and uses them to drag along the tip of his cock, spreading it down his length with a few sloppy strokes against his palm.

Hobie pulled you closer. You settled back against his pillows, whining a little when Hobie pulled his hand away from yours to brace himself against you. You toss your arms over his shoulders and around his neck. Your gaze is a bit more confident looking into his and Hobie kisses you softly.

You're dripping, trembling as he drags the tip of his thick cock between your soaked lips. He teased you, pressing the tip into your sopping entrance before pulling away. It coats him, your wetness, making it easier for him to slowly inch his way inside. He stretches you slowly and your nails sink into his back. You bury your face into his neck, muffling your moans.

His hands caress your body, holding you tight as if he craved that same warmth from you as well. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock buried deep within you. He lets you adjust while he familiarizes himself with your tight cavern. Your walls hug him, imprinting every vein, every groove of him. Soft and welcoming like you've been waiting to invite him in since forever.

You two stare at each other, the warmth of one’s breath breezing over the other's supple skin. "Move." You encourage, nudging your nose against his. His hands tightened on your waist as he pulled his hips back until only the tip remained inside before surging them forward. He liked being soft with you, liked touching you like you were one of his drawings, like you would smudge if he pressed too hard.

You didn't mind slow or careful. It made you feel all that more special, like you were worth taking up that time where he could be doing other things. He kept his strokes paced, gentle. The soft slapping of skin mingles with your moans that fill the room.

"Hobie~" You claw at his back, leaving your mark on him in bright red lines that cover his skin. His cock filled you to the brim, pressing every point of pleasure along the way to his tip kissing your cervix. Hobie’s size was nothing to laugh at. He touched places never before discovered, his hips rutting into yours in firm, paced strokes.

He pressed his against the side of your head. Your shampoo was nice, lavender and vanilla he supposed. Hobie made a mental note to write that down in his sketchbook with all his other notes about you.

Hobie smelled like subtle cologne and natural musk. It's comforting, not overwhelming or violently invading your nose. You kiss his neck, along his sharp jaw, and over his prominent Adams Apple. Your teeth nip softly over his supple flesh, easily able to leave hickeys on his skin, smooth as paper.

Your moans are like music to his ears. High-pitched and uneven. With each thrust, he's rewarded with such a beautiful sound. You chew on your bottom lip in attempt to contain them but he doesn't like it. "Uh-uh, I wanna hear you. Don't deny me such a beautiful sound." He reaches up and pulls your lip from your teeth with his own. A spark.

Hobie took your hand with his much larger one and laced your fingers with his like before. He pinned your hand to the bed, rubbing off graphite onto your skin, his mark on you, his love on you. “Am I nice enough now?”

You nod, “so nice~”. You sighed out, pulling him in and tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “So good.” You murmured against his skin, sucking on that piece of flesh to calm yourself. His strokes were deep, solid, unquestionable in his dedication to his craft.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, then your lips, a innocent little kiss that belies the way he’s fucking you right now, his pelvis rubbing your dick with every roll of his hips.

His hand touches the side of your face, skimming it, holding it, worshiping it as if he were drawing. Your eyes fluttered softly, your lips parted to let out a shaky breath and your eyes admire him the way he admires you, like an artist looking at its masterpiece.

Hobie’s hand trails down the length of your body and reaches between your bodies to touch your dick. He strokes it between his fingers, smirking at the way you cry into the bend of his neck and take the time to bite. You sink your teeth into smooth muscle, tongue lavishing over smoother skin. You’ll undoubtedly lean your mark and he wouldn't have it any other way.

You were so sweet too, so sweet to tell him before you came in short, fast pants. You begged in soft “please”s for him to keep going. “Jus’ like that.” Your legs hooked over his slender hips to keep him in close.

Your mind went hazy with the rush of your climax, your body tensed and rolled with the waves of it. That pretty pussy of your clamped down around Hobie’s full cock, stroking him in beautiful subtly pulses that coaxed him towards his own orgasm.

“Ya wan’ me to cum wit’cha, pretty boy?”

You nod and whine, nails sinking into the back of his neck. Your legs tuck in and pull his hips closer and oh those silky walls of your milked him so nice and thoroughly he couldn't help but to cum.

Hobie didn't mean to cum inside, didn't mean to sully your body with his spunk. He didn't want to ruin you, ruin the temple of your body but God, he couldn't help it and you weren't letting him move.

And oh, he didn't mean to get so sappy, didn't mean to lift your intertwined hands and kiss the back of yours as he came deep inside, hot cum rushing to fill you to the brim. He sighed with pleasure and contentment and looked you in the eyes. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, luv. My lil’ muse.”

He rolled over with you still holding on to him, slipping from his little sanctuary between your legs with a wet pop. He readjusted himself, made himself decent before kissing you on the head.

God, what would this mean for your friendship? Would this become a regular thing? Did this make you something more. You were too afraid to say anything in fear of ruining the quiet serenity of the moment.

“You got what you need for your drawing?” You ask innocently, as if he did all of this for some damn drawing. Hobie scoffed against your scalp and pulled away to look at you. “Yeah, but ‘m no’ in the mood to draw anymore. Jus’ lemme hold’ja, yeah, dove?”

You could let him do that.

[freestyle-crocodile-trashpile]

I feel you

Summary: You get the wrong idea of when your roommate vents their problem to you

Type: Short Scenarios: Miles X Ftm!Reader: Hobie X Ftm!Reader: Gwen X M!Reader: Pavitr X Ftm!Reader

Version: Atsv

Miles Morales

He thought about that talk a lot. What did you mean you understood? Were you a Spiderman just like him? No... you're nothing like a spiderman. You got a slow reaction time, fall over your own feet, are always at home, and his spidey senses didn't go off around you. He tried to figure it out, he really did. But he just couldn't understand what you meant. So he decided to tell you.

"Y/n, you up? Yo, so....I have to tell you something"

Miles watched you sit up with a slight worried look on your face, he took a deep breath. 'Now or never...'

"I'm spiderman"

Miles watched your face and body language, checking for any sigh, just anything he could make out. But all he got was realization.

"Oh! I thought you were trans, haha, my bad, but that's epic man, congrats"

He stood there frozen, processing your words before laughing. He glanced at your trans flag, and now it all made sense.

"No- that's funny though, man, I thought you were spiderman too"

You guys now joke about it regularly.

Gwen

[A/n:I will be dropping one of my personal hcs in this one, like of her being trans, so, just a heads up 👍]

Just like miles, she was hella confused. What else could you have meant. Are you Spiderman? No, she's the spiderwoman of her universe. You can't be Spiderman. She groaned as she leaned back against the couch. You guys were watching the news, and she couldn't just brush that talk away. It was annoying her so much.

"Y/n...I'm Spiderman"

She's glanced over at your laid back form on the couch. You swallowed what you were eating before laughing abit.

"Oh! That's what you meant the other day...I thought you were trans"

Once she realizes what you said she chuckled.

"I am"

You looked over quickly with a shocked face, causing her to laugh. She knew you were trans. Why didn't it click before?

Hobie

It didn't bother him as much as the other two, but he still couldn't brush it off. He glanced at you from the bathroom sink. He was brushing his teeth when that conversation came back up. He finished brushing his teeth and walked into your room after you, it startled you, but he needed to know what you meant.

"Y/n, you Spiderman? That conversation a week ago was how I'm Spiderman..."

He watched your eyes go wide as you let out a small oh before realizing his question.

"Oh! No, I'm not Spiderman, I'm trans...I thought you were too"

He chuckles as you say that, finding the look on your face funny. You two had a good laugh about it before you had to get ready for school.

Pavitr

He was so confused. He thought you were Spiderman, but he's Spiderman, but there are different dimensions, but you're from his dimension. Pavitr didn't get it. There was nothing he could think of that could connect to Spiderman, or at least nothing he could think of.

"Y/n! That conversation last week! What did you mean you understood! Because I'm Spiderman, and that was my worries about it, but you understood! Are you Spiderman?! Cause I'm Spiderman!?"

You snickered and shook your head.

"Pavitr, that's not what I meant, I have the same experience of feeling like you do as a Trans kid, I figured you were as well"

Why didn't he think of that. Of course! He totally knew that.

"Oh"

He was too surprised by your response that he didn't know what to say.

~

[A/n:I find this so funny, like, it's great. I hope you enjoyed]

[memory-and-sky]

ftm!hobie x ftm!reader hmmm thinking some thoughts

[badchoicesworld]

hello there! i just found your blog and i love your writing for hobie, so i’d like to request another thing for him.

would you mind doing something about a transmasc vigilante reader who tags along with hobie on patrols and late night hangouts? hobie and the reader could diy their own costumes together :) maybe reader is black cat, another spiderperson, or whatever you want to come up with. thanks in advance, and i’ll probably request again soon!

hobie brown with a transgender, vigilante reader (ftm)

RAAHH thank you so much :]

i chose for the reader to be another spidersona, probably anarchist and super cool, hope this is okay! let me know if not

warnings: unsafe binding (there’s a warning ahead)

pairing: hobie brown x transmasc!reader

requests: open ! PLEASE

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

for you and hobie to get along so well and hang out outside of missions n such, i imagine you’re a spider-man who rejected miguel’s “invitation” to spider society. this is what might have led to you becoming a vigilante who’s occasionally recruited by spider society after some begging- or you’ve just been a vigilante from day one in your dimension.

but ! who’s likely to notice such a person? hobie, obviously. you two become menaces and no one looks forward to being in a room with you. hobie destroys their faith in the constitution while you’re reinforcing everything

during missions, you make a hell of a team ! there’s somehow this real nonchalant feeling to the atmosphere even if you’re punching down baddies

banter, plenty of it back and forth while swinging about and fighting for ur life

probably makes fun of your form or something playfully, makes a comment or two about a punch you’ve thrown “you call tha’ a punch?” “Naaah, nahnahnahnahnah. watch this,” probably does worse let’s be honest, throws the dirties punch known to man but it does the trick

you’re more stealth while hobie’s way more out there, style n all that

hobie dropping in on some operation to take down the big baddies while shredding away at his electric guitar, meanwhile he’s able to see you picking off people from vantage points

whenever you’ve gotta wait about for some patrols or just observe for a night, you two will find some sorta rooftop to perch on top of and patrol from there. but the view kills

you two probably have a sort of routine: completing missions together for the spider society, hobie then tags along for some vigilante work, then you both kick back at his place once the days come to an end

chill night consists of hobie subconsciously strumming at a note occasionally on his guitar while you talk about whatever together

a lot of complaining about the institution, probably how much miguel fucking sucks

depending on ur current situation with transitioning, given that hobie knows, mans is probably the most supportive person you’ll meet

hobie lives in a society that he actively chooses to protect despite being apart of the margin of people that are still severely oppressed to terrible degrees, be it for his race or how he chooses to express himself (in my head, hobie’s also a boy kisser). so i think that he has a certain passion for protecting those minority groups. you, as a trans man, sometimes get the hobie brown special treatment.

let’s you crash at his place whenever you need it, let’s you borrow his clothes n shit if they help you feel more masculine, will give you tips n tricks that either he uses or has heard work great for presenting masculine

does your makeup if you want it, like making your face look more chisel, fake facial hair or brows more blocky- that kinda shit.

if you’re yet to go through the execution process (top surgery), hobie’s ur guy (a terrible terrible influence)

if you have a binder, good for you- hobie is going to find it and customise it for you because he’s hilarious

probably does some like web stitching into it, lil embroidered parts that match his pins or something like “hobie was here” in his clapped handwriting

this isn’t anything new, you two have this little game going on where you just steal and tag each others things for shits and giggles. his best work? punk-ifying your binders with those like spikes he has on his jackets shoulder pads

firm believer in trans men being shirtless in a binder is normalising something that should’ve been from the beginning- probably also marched a free the titties campaign for all body types and identities cause they aren’t inherently sexual and shouldn’t be (if cis men can, why can’t cis women, y’know?)

if he accidentally damages your shit he’ll either fix or replace it, maybe even make something to compensate

or it becomes part of the fit

these lil things have helped personalise your things greatly- there’s nice little details all over that make you both crack smiles

makes sure that throughout missions you’re good if you’re binding, which he honestly just doesn’t dictate. won’t be the type to tell you off for wearing it too long or during missions, it’s not your fault that you’re just doing what makes you feel more like yourself

instead just makes sure that you’re well rested after the missions over and does things for you so you don’t strain

(DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME. I WILL FIND YOU.)

if by some unfortunate twist of fate you don’t have a binder, hobie will probably diy you one. argues that they can be mass produced by corporations, why can’t he make one by hand? just one more win for the anarchists

diy binders are dangerous, especially if they’re not made right. i’d like to think hobie would try his best, but i imagine he doesn’t have access to the right materials

in this case, he probably rips apart his shit trying to find the right elastic cloths for your safety

that, or he makes a makeshift binders just a bit looser than it should be to reduce the risk of hurting you.

absolute worst case scenario ? could honestly fashion something out of webs (i have a spidersona that does this) mans a genius, he’ll figure something out

positive ? binder looks sick since he makes it

(ok ur safe, continue)

if you’ve got top surgery, good for u, hobie will have ur head if you don’t take the appropriate recovery time

if you are involved with spider society, he either takes your missions for you or absolutely terrorises miguel into not giving you any

you think it’s just a subconscious, casual thing that hobie does but he always manages to slip a “lad” “boy” “man” into his sentences whenever speaking to or about you. gender affirmations innit

that being said, hobie views you as a man wholeheartedly

hobie’s into physical touch so probably got an arm slung around your shoulder, tons of playfully nudges whenever he sees fit (often)

★⋆ ⋆☆⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆☆⋆⋆★✧

i also wanna stress rq that the way i portray hobie; he’s so incredibly supportive, hype man, but he’s not this sunshine and rainbows thing i’ve seen some people portray him as

he’s laid back, nonchalant but can get excited (like w the whole “miles my guy” scene where he’s so hype)

thinks/knows he’s hot shit but it doesn’t make him arrogant. man just knows what he’s capable of and gets to be laid back thanks to it

[lotte-s-web]

Your cunt wasn’t wet, it was drooling for Hobie. “Look at y’self,” He murmured into your ear, his heavy voice and hot huffs of air against your lobe made you tremble. He chuckled. His fore and middle finger rutting deep into your sloppy cunt. “Leng li’l ting all ready fo’ me.” Wet squelching filled the room, a sound so disgusting it almost made you sick. Yet you couldn’t help but buck into his fingers each and every time he pulled back. “All worked up ‘nd I ain’ even put m’cock in ya, didn’t know y’could be such a needy boy f’me.”

—SAMO🎸🥀‼️

GOOD MORNING TO YOU TOO??? in all seriousness though, HSHHSDHSFGSDH

PLS u should write a fic !!

[zoro-chwaan]

So this was something I started last year, but never finished (cause I forgor) buy here ya go.

Ooc Hobie probably, but boo hoo, I don’t care

» [ Hobie (Spider-Punk) x trans!reader ] «

─── ☾

You and Hobie always had a weird friendship. Where whenever one of you saw the other, you would scream at each other about how great the other is. The other spider-folks would either find it adorable or annoying. Miguel thought of it as annoying since the both of you are ‘too loud’ for his taste. But why does it matter to him? Maybe he’s still sour due to the fact that he lost his daughter, personal issue if you ask me.

Though Hobie and you are close friends. You still neglected to mention to him some things about you, but you didn’t have the need to tell him anything any time soon. You’d know he’d be fine with the fact of who you are.

Oddly enough, today you decided to install Pokémon Go. Just for the heck of it (and because you really wanted a specific Pokémon). You spent roughly a couple minutes on it, starting to question if it was the right choice. You opened the portal to where all the spider-folks are at and walked in. You looked around to see if you can spot a certain punk.

“You looking for someone?”

Startled and turned to see it was just Lyla with a smirk on her face. You chuckled and nodded, “Do you know if Hobie is in here or if he’s in his dimension?” Lyla just laughed and told you that he was here. “He’s on top of one of the buildings” She said as she disappeared. You smiled and went on your way. After a while you found him where Lyla said he would be. He seemed to just be relaxing, you smiled and looked at him for a bit before you decided to ruin his day. “HOBIE!!” Hobie turned around and saw you and smiled. “Yeah Y/N, it’s me. What’s up?”

“I THINK I MADE A MISTAKE!”

He looked at you with a confused expression “WHAT kind of mistake?!” You paused for a moment and muttered, “So I decided to reinstall Pokémon Go..”

“Y/N, DON’T PLAY THAT GAME FOR YOUR OWN SAKE!!”

“BUT I NEED (Favorite Pokémon)!!”

“THEY ARE FICTIONAL CREATURES! YOU DON’T NEED THEM!” You gasped at his statement and gave him a look of betrayal. “YES I DO!!” You responded. “WHY ON EARTH DO YOU NEED THEM?!”

“BECAUSE I RELATE TO (Favorite Pokémon)!!” You yelled back.

“WHY DO YOU RELATE TO (Favorite Pokémon)?!”

“NO COMMENT”

“DON’T YOU HAVE FRIENDS?!” He blurted out. You paused once again giving him a look that said ‘Ayo chill’ He saw that and chuckled awkwardly, “I was just asking..” He scratched the back of his neck.

“This is why I need (Favorite Pokémon)”

“YOU DON’T NEED (Favorite Pokémon)!!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR ME!!”

“I ACTUALLY DO KNOW WHATS GOOD FOR YOU!!”

“NUH UH!!”

“YUH HUH!!” He retorted

“SAYS WHO??” You fought back

“SAYS ME” He countered

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I KNOW YOU BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE DOES” He stood up and walked towards you. He’s not wrong, he really does know you better than anyone else in here does. You two were close, and it shows. “I KNOW” you screamed.

“YOU DON’T KNOW!! IF YOU KNEW, YOU WOULDN’T BE PLAYING POKÉMON GO!!” Damnit he’s got a point.

“BUT I NEED IT”

“YOU DON’T NEED IT!!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE ITS BAD FOR YOU!” (NUH uh)

“Damn..” you said, acting a bit dramatic for the affect. He sighed and shook his head, “What am I going to do with you?” He questioned, mostly to himself while smiling. “Honestly, I don’t even know myself” you replied. You both stayed silent for a bit, till he thought of something. “Hey Y/N… I think I know why you relate to (Favorite Pokémon) now..” You gave him a puzzled look and quirked up an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”

“You just need a friend”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“Okay we’re done with this conversation” you said as you facepalmed. No need to call you out like that.. geez..

“BUT I WANNA HELP!”

“NO!!”

“I’M GONNA HELP YOU WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!!!”

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE I’M YOUR FRIEND AND YOU NEED ME TO HELP!!”

“DO YOU KNOW WHAT I NEED??”

“A FRIEND??!” “Damn I get it… no need to remind me that I’m lonely..” You mentally said to yourself

“NO!! A CHEST BINDER” You replied without thinking. Shit.. did you just really put yourself?

“A CHEST BINDER??!!” Now it was his turn to look puzzled.. Fuck

“YEAH!”

“WHY???!!!” “Well it’s now or never..”

“CAUSE I’M TRANS!!”

“YOUR TRANS?!”

“YEAH!! WHAT OF IT?!!” You would be lying to yourself if you said that your kinda scared shitless

“I’M JUST SURPRISED!!”

“REALLY?” “Dumb reply”

“YEAH, I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE TRANS!!!” Even if you never told him, he still would’ve called you a guy since you passed really well. You were happy.

“WELL SURPRISE!!” You were scared shitless, yet you knew he would still be supportive of you. That’s just how he is, but it was your turn to be surprised by what came out his mouth.

“I HAVE TO GET YOU A CHEST BINDER NOW!!”

“THAT’S SO SWEET OF YOU!!” Your heart beat a happy tune.. man he made you feel such love and happiness

“ANYTHING FOR YOU!!” Yeah.. he really made your heart skip a beat

“WHY ARE WE STILL YELLING?!”

“BECAUSE WE’RE LOUD PEOPLE!!” You paused once again and nodded. “Fair enough”, again silence came over you two again.

“…So, about the chest binder..” Hobie started up. You turned to him, “What about it?”

“I REALLY NEED TO GET YOU ONE!!” Man, he really is sweet. But sometimes, you just want to buy something’s for yourself. As a reward.

“I CAN GET IT MYSELF, BUCKO”

“NO YOU CAN’T!! IT’S MY JOB TO GET YOU ONE!!” He’s more than aware that you are more than capable of getting yourself one, but he really cares about you and wants to give you one as a gift. How sweet

“WHY?!”

“BECAUSE YOU NEED IT!!”

“YEAH I DO!! I CAN GET ONE MYSELF!!”

“I’LL BUY YOU ONE!!!!” And when you thought he couldn’t get any sweeter..

“YOU DON’T NEED TO”

“I’LL BUY IT AND NO ONE CAN STOP ME!!” Times like these, you’re really thankful that you’re on top of a building. Sure, if some folks are close enough, they would hear your guy’s scream fight. But would they understand what the two do you are talking about.. probably not.

“LET ME BUY IT FOR MYSELF!!”

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ————

Will I finish this? Probably not, but hey, you just gotta do what you gotta do

[forggywrites]

Hobie x reader who just got approved to take testosterone

Is this a self indulgent because I just got approved for testosterone? Yes. Do I care? No.

Requests are open!

CW: talk of testosterone, needles, acne, idk what else

When you tell him that you finally got an intake appointment at your local gender clinic he is so excited for you

Is with you helping you make appointments and talking on the phone for you if you need it

When the appointment actually comes he tags along (If you want)

As the doctor goes over all the effects, the timeline, etc he sits in the chair listening intently

Makes sure to note things that he might need for later

As soon as the doctor leaves you two alone after confirming your approval for testosterone he picks you up and hugs you

“I’m so happy for ya love”

Man will be just as happy as you are

“Let’s celebrate”

You two spend the rest of the day doing things you love

When taking your t for the first time he makes sure to learn exactly how to do it (in case you need help with the injections)

If you inject T he will do it for you

“Hold still love, just a pinch.”

Will give you a big kiss after every time he gives you a shot

If you’d rather do it he sits and gives you moral support

“You’re so strong love”

As you continue your testosterone journey he will help you every step of the way

Spotting? He has pads/tampons

Really sweaty? Deodorant and an extra shirt

Acne? He’s got all the products to help

He will totally encourage you to do a voice journal (this is my voice x days on t thing)

He loves his partner no matter what, and seeing you happy makes him happy