#Hobie brown x ftm!reader

[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♥️]

[spider-ghoul]

More things hobie would call puck rock:

Flipping off cybertrucks, "awe that was so punk"

Pirating movies "omg theft your so punk rock hun"

If you say 'I don't gaf' at literally anything he's like "woa babes that was so punk"

Standing up for yourself in anyway (confronting people, going to get meds, using a walking aid, whatever) he's hyping you up the whole time

Idk he's ur #1 fan

Hobie brown is the type of guy to say "that's so punk, babe." Whenever you do anything.

Leaving the house in pajama pants cause you don't care what the people in the Corner store think anymore? Punk.

Helping one of your friends study for an exam? Punk.

Saying fuck it and skipping a class because the professor is a ass? Punk.

N' if you're a guy and paint your nails or wear skirts? "So punk, darlin'"

Maybe its his way of tellin' you hes proud. Or maybe he just thinks it's fun to say. Who knows? But he loves the way you roll your eyes and smile every time he does it.

[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

[hobieholdme]

Take Your Time

Hobie Brown x Transmasc!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Tags: SMUT, LIKE OPENS WITH SMUT, Occasional use of Y/N, no physical description of Y/N (except vague outfit mention), Y/N implied to be transmasculine, masculine terms for Y/N, established friends with benefits relationship, some pining, mild angst, lowkey edging, slowburn fic, alcohol mention, food mention.

Ch.1 of "Why Are We Like This?" > Ch.2

The surface of the cracked pleather couch flakes off on onto your bare knees. The way the edges poke at you is far from your mind, though. So is the distant thought of the bruises that are definitely forming as Hobie's fingertips press even further into the skin of your waist. His head falls back with a groan as you sink down onto him again.

"Fuck, love, you're doing so good." he rolls his hips up into you and you barely stifle a whimper.

His grip on you is fierce. It leaves you waiting for some kind of permission to continue moving. It's torture when he wants to go slow like this. Always before a show, too. He swears it's necessary. It calms him down, gets him in the right headspace. Easy for him to say when all he has to do is make it onstage and let the adrenaline do the heavy lifting. You have to hold full conversations after this little game of his.

Hobie sucks in a breath and eases you forward. Your legs flex to raise yourself one slow inch at a time. Hobie's eyes are closed, head still resting against the back of the couch. His chest rises and falls with ease. He looks beautiful like this. Completely unbothered, fully confident, fully present. Unfortunately, these are thoughts you can't entertain. This isn't a sordid affair or a case of fated lovers. It's just a frontman and his in-house crafter taking care of each other's needs. A symbiotic relationship between comrades, nothing more.

Just as you're convincing yourself about the transactional nature of this exchange, Hobie pulls you back down onto his length and a moan escapes you. That's why you agree to this, you remember, it's for the breathtaking, dizzying feeling of him stretching you open. The one that coaxes noises you'd rather not make knowing that the rest of the band is one thin wall over.

"Good fuckin' boy," he groans, guiding you to continue the motion, finally allowing you to gain some momentum.

You lean closer to him until your nose is pressed to his pulse and his spiked jacket pokes you through your thin t-shirt. Your senses are quickly filled with the scent of sweat, leather, and shitty liquor, the heat of your bodies combined, and the mindnumbing feeling that comes each time the head of his cock brushes that perfect spot inside you. You hope, or maybe pretend, that your moans and whimpers are adequately muffled by the way your face is tucked close to his body. It's probably silly to keep up the pretense that the rest of the crew is blind to your little pre-show routine. Still, the thought of looking them in the eye knowing that they know your shaky gait isn't from the booze, but because you've spent the last twenty minutes being fucked senseless is intimidating.

Either way, there's nothing you can do to hide it except your best. So you let yourself relax and follow Hobie's cues, revelling in the building heat low in your stomach.

"You doin'--" he's interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hobie!" a voice, Mattea's you think, calls "we're on in five!"

"Fuck."

Your eyes meet with mutual disappointment. Chests both heaving, bodies both reeling from the interruption.

"On my way!" he hollers before lifting you fully from his lap and plopping you onto the cushion next to him like it's nothing. His strength still puzzles you.

"Seriously?" you ask, breathless.

Hobie's already standing; fastening his belt around the jeans he hadn't bothered to fully take off.

"Show time, lovie, can't be late." He shrugs and smiles at you, "I'll make it up to you later?"

Your eyes are wide, skin on fire, body screaming from the sudden lack of contact. You want your voice to be screaming too. If he doesn't want to be late he should stop taking his damn time. It's not fair to leave you like this. It's inhumane to get you so wound up and then dump you to the side. He needs to get his shit together or leave you the fuck alone. But his eyes are so soft and so focused on you as he slides his rings back on. Is your voice lost because he looks so perfect or because you hope he'll look at you like that forever? G-d, you hope it's the former. You shake your head and reach for the shorts you'd discarded on the floor.

"I'll see ya out there, handsome," he does you the kindness of waiting until you're decent to open the door, "sell enough shit and I'll even buy us dinner."

He turns to grin and wink at you before shutting the door behind him.

~*~

By the time you make it out into the venue the crowd is clamoring for the show to start. You granted yourself a minute to breathe before making your way here. It wasn't much, but enough to make you look presentable. Enough to give you the strength to shove through the overpacked room offering mumbled 'excuse me's on your way.

You glance over at Hobie--who is too busy to look back at you even if he wanted to--and have to once again dampen you irritation about how unfair this situation is for you. It does, however, encourage you to move more quickly to your table in the corner.

"Finally! You're the merch guy, right?" a lanky, golden haired, femme person sporting a shirt that reads 'BILLY'S BURGERS SOUND CREW' is seated in your spot when you arrive. They waste no time in standing up, clearly in a rush to get back to their actual job as opposed to covering for you.

"Yes!" you offer an apologetic smile, "I'm so sorry. Got caught up with some prep-work!"

You fish some beaded bracelets from your pocket and offer them as an excuse. They roll their eyes before stepping fully out from behind the table.

"Whatever. It's your band that's gunna sound like shit if I'm not around to fix it."

They're off before you can offer any more apologies or thanks. You sigh as you make it to your seat, turning your attention to the line of people anxiously waiting.

"Alright folks!" you shout, trying to get your schpiel of information as far down the line as possible, "everything is pay as you can! Suggested donations are on the little sign here! Remember that the band's gotta pay for gas and food on this money!"

As soon as you finish talking, the mic screeches with feedback. You hear Hobie's hiss come through the speakers.

"Sorry, sorry!" he laughs, "Alright, are we ready to get started?"

The crowd, including several people standing mere feet away from you, erupts with screams and cheers. Why don't you ever bring earplugs to these things? A few people in the back of the line decide to cut their losses and come back later, sinking into the sea of people.

The next few hours of your night are monotonous. Smile at people, thank them for stopping by, compliment their outfit, take their money, repeat. Occasionally, when the band would play a fan favorite or the bathroom line would grow exceptionally long, you'd have a chance to stretch your legs or work on painting some patches. Sometimes you missed the days when the Spiderband had hardly any fans and you got to spend all but the last twenty minutes of the show relaxing and working on projects. Not that it wasn't nice to see so many new faces and hand off your work to so many people. You just feel a bit of relief when Hobie's 'goodnight everybody!' signals the last few minutes of insanity before you help to load things back into the van.

As you wish your last shopper goodbye, smiling at their excited tone as they grip their new tshirt and shout after their friends, you're met with Hobie's hand on your shoulder. It lights your nerves back up as if the two of you had never left the greenroom. It takes everything in you not to punch him, kiss him, or fall to your knees and beg him to please fuck you before you explode. Instead, you start packing things up into your bag, not sparing him as much as a glance.

"You owe me dinner." you grumble.

"Woo!" he cheers, "hear that, guys? We get to eat tonight!"

Half-hearted, exhausted cheers come from the rest of the band; who are all busying themselves with packing up while Hobie is here pestering you.

"So, where are we ordering from?" Hobie helps himself to your seat while you continue folding t-shirts.

"Isn't Riri driving? She should pick, right?"

"Aw come on," he grins at you, "you're a growing boy! We've gotta make sure you get something solid in ya."

You shake your head and zip the duffel bag shut, "I need to fold that chair."

"Hey." Hobie's face falters, eyebrows knitting together in concern. His voice lowers both in volume and pitch, "I didn't mean t' leave you hangin' earlier. 'm sorry. I'll make it up to ya, promise."

It's your turn to shrug, now. "I'm gunna drop this in the van. You should probably help out too, right?"

He nods and follows you with as little urgency as ever. You can feel his gaze from behind you. His worry and disappointment is palpable. It's ridiculous. This isn't about feelings. It's not about you being happy with him. He doesn't owe you shit. It's getting harder, though, to know which of you you're reminding of that.

[jellyfishthingblog]

why is it so hard to find Hobie Brown x Reader that ISN'T fem reader... Please, even just a crumb of an ftm reader... please... just one? 🥺

it doesn't even have to be smut, just SOMETHING

[moldonacorpse]

It's so hard to accept that I'm transmasc. Like... Yeah that's the first label I chose for myself but then I kinda ... abandoned it. And now it's back??? And the feeling is way stronger than it used to be??

[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

[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

[memory-and-sky]

ftm!hobie x ftm!reader hmmm thinking some thoughts

[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

[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 !!

[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]

[hobieholdme]

Relax

Why Are We Like This - Ch. 4

Looking for Ch 3? It's here!

Hobie Brown / Spiderpunk x Transmasc!Reader

Word count: 3.3k

Tags: Occasional use of Y/N, no physical description of Y/N (except vague outfit mention), Y/N implied to be transmasculine, established friends with benefits relationship, mutual pining, smut, slowburn fic, oral sex, fingering, hickeys, teasing, lowk praise kink.

A/N: Enjoy your 5 minutes of them getting along <33333

"No way this is where we're staying…" you murmur as Kam pulls into a parking spot.

"Are they gunna let us through the doors?" Hobie quips, looking up to the glowing sign on top of the building.

"They will. I know a guy who knows a guy." Riri assures you.

It's mid-afternoon as you all crawl out of the van. Karl's mug throwing outburst lead to an early departure, which helped speed things along. When Kamala got behind the wheel there were several moments where you were certain you were going to die. The two combined turned the seven hour trek into five hours. Standing here looking up at where you'll be staying leaves you thrilled that you got here early. You're shocked you're not drooling at the thought of a quality bed and lights that don't flicker.

"How much did this cost us?" Karl asks.

"I told you, I know a guy," Riri shrugs as if its nothing.

You're all quiet as you approach the tall glass doors. They swing open automatically and for some reason that startles you. You don't miss the laugh that Hobie chokes down when you flinch.

Inside, the spotless white floors sparkle under bright lights. Cushioned chairs and plush couches are arranged in groups around the lobby. A dark wooden desk sits near the back wall. The person behind it smiles at you all. They're tall and lanky with tanned skin and slicked back black hair. Their perfect white tie sits stark against their well-ironed grey button up. You study their face for the type of cloaked discomfort or disgust your group usually recieves.

Riri slides her ID across the counter, "I should have three rooms booked for Williams."

"Of course," the concierge picks up the card, "feel free to help yourselves to a complimentary drink while I find your reservation in our system." They motion towards a glass mini fridge at the end of the counter.

You look at Kam and try to silently ask them if they think that was a joke.

Hobie leans close to Riri and whispers, "Did you like, kill a guy for your guy? or…"

Riri swings her elbow back, planting it in his stomach. Hobie doubles over dramatically while the rest of you stifle a laugh. The lack of an answer does leave you wondering if Hobie's guess was right.

After a moment, the concierge slides three red cards back towards Riri alongside her ID. "These are your room keys, you'll all be on the third floor. Unfortunately, we weren't able to arrange for your rooms to be next to each other."

Riri shakes her head and offers a polite smile, "We appreciate your help."

"Of course! The number for the front desk here is on the back of each key-card. Please don't hesitate to call if you need anything."

She thanks them again before turning to the group and pointing to the elevator across the lobby. You each offer a quiet 'thanks' to the concierge before following behind her.

Once in the elevator, Riri hands a card to you and one to Kam, keeping the third in her own hand. "Y/N, you're sharing with Hobie. Kamala, you're babysitting Mattea and Karl. I'm sick of all of your shit and deserve a nap. We'll meet in the lobby at six. Until then, someone better be dying if you knock on my door."

"Got it," you nod.

"Yes Ma'am," Hobie salutes. Sarcastically, maybe?

"You know it's possible they'll try to kill each other, right?" Kam's hand grasps Riri's shoulder.

The doors open and Riri walks ahead without a response. You meet Kam's eyes, shrug, and start searching for your own room. You can hear the soft thump of each of Hobie's steps falling behing you. Some of his chains jingle as he walks, overlapping the sounds of your own. Without a word to each other, you make your way to the door that matches your card. A green light flashes as you press your card to the sensor. You swing the door open as soon as you hear the handle click.

You're still standing in the doorway as you fumble around for the lightswitch. You catch a glimpse of Hobie's expression behind you as you search the wall. You're tempted to call it pity, but you know it's something closer to amusement.

With the lights on, you step fully into the room and drop your bag on the floor. You make a beeline for a closed door off to the side.

"There's a shower! Like, a real one that you don't have to pay by the minute for!" you exclaim.

Hobie responds with an impressed whistle, "maybe Riri was right to skin puppies to get us this place."

You shoot him a glare. You can't decide if it's because of his comment or because he's stretched out on the bed with his boots still on.

"Well, I'm sick of smelling like weed and van stink. So I'm showering," you announce.

"Sounds good." He picks up a remote and turns on the TV, flipping through channels rather than looking at you.

You let out a sigh as you close the door. The bathroom is cool, clean, and quiet. A combination you haven't experienced in ages. Tiny travel bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash are stacked on the counter. You scoop them up like precious gems.

"Wait!" Hobie shouts through the door, "were you inviting me to come with you?!"

Your stomach lurches. "No!"

You're expecting some kind of response. A snarky comment or dramatic sigh. Instead there's just silence and the distant noise of the TV. When you're sure the moment has passed, you turn the knob on the shower to let it start running. You get undressed while it warms up, folding all your clothes into a neat stack.

It feels amazing to have warm water run down your body. You take your time scrubbing yourself clean. Rest stop showers and body wipes are enough to keep you from being truly gross, but they never leave you feeling fresh and clean like this. You bask in the water long past the point where the room fills with steam. When you're finally satisfied, you turn off the faucet and grab a towel to dry off.

You can hear a laugh track on the TV outside the door. You're glad that Hobie is seemingly enjoying himself. It eases any guilt you have for leaving him alone with so little care for anything except your own excitement. Not that you owe him your company. Or that he wants it, even. It just could have been nice of you to offer to wait a while and settle in, right?

You study yourself in the mirror and comb your fingers through your hair before reaching for your clean clothes. Except, when you turn to grab them you realize that nothing is there. Shit.

Plan B, you think as you scoop up your towel and open the door a crack.

"Hobie!" you call out, "Can you bring me my backpack?"

You hear him stand up before he responds. "That shit's heavy, love. Whaddya need from it?"

"I forgot to grab clothes." You swear your face feels warm from the shower and that's it.

He chuckles, "So come out and get 'em."

"Hobie!" you whine, poking your head through to pout at him.

"What!" you hate how clear it is that he's being genuine, "I see you naked like, all the time. You're gunna make me walk over there so you can pretend I don't? You really that embarrassed of me?"

The last part is a taunt, you can tell. Unfortunately, it works. You have no desire at all to talk about embarrassment with Hobie Brown unless you have no other choice. You slam the door closed for dramatic effect and wrap yourself in your towel.

When you step out of the bathroom, Hobie stands by the bed smirking at you. You turn your head away from him and focus on making it to your backpack. Pin backs scrape your shoulder on your way over to the bed. You sit down and start your hunt for clean clothes.

You're almost too focused to notice Hobie drop to his knees in front of you. Which means you're able to pretend he hasn't done so until his finger tips brush your arms and wrap around your wrists.

"Hey." his voice comes out in a hum.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, "Mm?"

"You look nice when you're not covered in dirt."

His tone and comment are as teasing as his hands, which have moved from your arms to your knees. He eases them under the edge of your towel to test the waters. You don't stop him.

"What a romantic." you deadpan.

His smirk turns goofy. His hands, once light against your skin, squeeze at your thighs.

"You know, when I played the 'I've seen you naked' card, I was hoping I wouldn't have to get through a towel to have you."

His eyes have slipped from your eyes down to your collarbones. You could swear he's leaning closer than he was before. His lips are parted even when he finishes talking, adding to the look of hunger that has your heart racing.

"Gotta sing for your supper, 'bie." You hate how breathless your voice is. It betrays any semblance of 'cool' you have to guard yourself with. It exposes the way your lungs contract and your stomach twists. It hints at the thrill that runs through you knowing that he's been waiting. Imagining that the sudden end to your last rendezvous hurt him like it hurt you.

His response is a distracted hum as he tugs at the place where you've tucked the ends of your towel together. With it loose, he tries to tug the fabric from underneath you. You place your hands behind you and lift yourself to give him a hand. He meets your eyes for a moment and flashes a smile that's too soft for your comfort. Before you can comment, he's pushing your knees apart and placing soft kisses on your inner thigh.

You watch him pepper you with kisses. You're calm, quiet, still, and holding back. He nips at your skin, unsatisfied with your lack of reaction. You can't stop the surprised gasp. "They're all the way down the hall, love." his lips brush your skin as he speaks, "lay back. Relax. I'm makin it up to you."

You hesitate. He doesn't really need to make it up to you. He was in a rush. It happens. As irritating as he loves to be, you know deep down he'd be clear about it if he planned to leave you desperate like that on purpose. You've known Hobie long enough to know that vulnerable is the last thing he lets himself be. As far as anyone else is concerned, everything he does is on purpose or a result of not giving a shit. You've learned to see through it, though. The doubt, the guilt, the fear, the worry. You know that his indifference to leaving you there was his best strategy to get himself to actually leave despite not wanting to. If he shoves all his shit down to avoid being real with you, though, why shouldn't you?

He's leaving a third mark on your skin when you notice how tense you've become. You're holding your breath, elbows locked where you steady yourself, eyes focused on Hobie as he focuses on you. You find out that he was giving an instruction, not a suggestion, when he hooks your legs over his shoulders and pulls you forward. Your elbows give and your back hits the bed. You protest with a weak "Hey!" and try to give him a mean look, but end up letting your head fall back onto the mattress.

"I said relax," he huffs.

His breath is warm against your skin. With the rest of your body forced into resting you're suddenly aware of how wet you are. You try to steady your breathing, but just as you're getting somewhere Hobie stumbles upon a particularly sensitive spot on your thigh. The noise that falls from your mouth startles you as much as the feeling does. You can feel his surprise, too, in the way he pauses and then continues to focus on the spot.

You want to relax and enjoy this, Hobie's careful attention to you, but your body has other ideas. Your clit is throbbing and an achy feeling of emptiness creeps up on you. You reach down in an attempt to grab at his hair and silently guide him to what you need. Except you can't quite reach and the feeling of his tongue and his teeth are making it difficult to muster the strength to prop yourself up.

"Hobie," you cringe at the whine in your voice.

He stops, mouth separating from you with an audible sound, "Everything okay?" He rises to his knees, hands planted on either side of you as he leans over to look at you.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm fine, just--"

He gets distracted as you're speaking and plants a kiss on your stomach. It's enough of a push to get the rest of your words out with urgency.

"Holy shit, Hobie, just fuck me already."

He looks back at you, blinking. You're silent and begin to pout as a grin stretches across his face.

"Right. That." he nods. You can't tell if the realization is genuine or not.

Hobie drops back down to sit on his heels. Rings press into the plush of your legs as he gives you a soft tug closer. You can tell he's satisfied with where you are when you feel his tongue piercing catch on your entrance. Your breath hitches at the feeling of the cool metal.

He traces a path up to your clit with the tip of his tongue. You jolt when he finally reaches it, which earns a pleased hum from Hobie that vibrates through you. You clap your hand over your mouth in a last ditch attempt to quiet yourself as he gets to work sucking on your clit. You let your eyes slide closed when you accept that you can't think well enough to see much anyway. The word 'relax' echoes around in your head.

You're working so hard at relaxing that you don't notice that Hobie has let go of your legs until you hear the sound of rings clattering against the nightstand. You'll never understand how he manages to multitask like he does. Your train of thought derails again when he presses a finger inside you. He starts with slow, gentle thrusts. The type that would make you nervous if you didn't have so much time before you needed to leave and if he wasn't so persistent in his work against your clit.

Eventually, he presses against a sweet spot. Your back arches and a moan escapes you at a volume your hand stands no chance against. Hobie makes a sound that suggests he's nearly as pleased by this as you are and begins moving his fingers faster. Fire creeps across your skin as the feeling of pressure builds low in your stomach.

Any sense of judgement or boundary you have is gone. You know you're beyond help when Hobie's name falls from your lips. It surprises him, too, and he raises his head to check on you.

"All good?" he asks, his thumb taking over for his mouth while his middle and index fingers continue to work inside of you.

The suggestion that you're in a state to answer that question is insulting, frankly. You try to get a thought together. Every time the words start to make sense Hobie's fingers find their way to your G-spot and it all crashes down inside your mind. You can't do much thinking, but you can see concern creeping into Hobie's eyes. You have to give him some kind of answer fast. You force out a few unintelligable and disconnected syllables. That won't do.

"Fuck!" you gasp. You let your hand drop to your side, overcome with pleasure and frustration.

Any hint of worry on Hobie's face disappears and is replaced with smug satisfaction. His body leans over yours. You shudder as his lips brush against your chest.

"Attaboy," his voice hits a familiar low rumble, "Look at you. Finally enjoying yourself."

You must already be bright red, but if there's any room for your face to grow warmer, you're certain it does. You roll your hips down on his fingers Every second that he isn't pressed fully inside of you is torture. Composure and restraint are relics of the past for you now. Hobie is keeping busy marking up your torso, because G!d forbid he only does two things at once.

He hums as you clench around him, right on the cusp of your orgasm. "You're doing such a good job," he praises against your skin. The sound of his voice companioned by one more well timed thrust of his fingers sends you over the edge and you see stars. Your hand finds its way back to cover your mouth. Hobie's free hand rests on your waist to rub gentle circles into your side. The other continues soft, shallow, thrusts to help ease you down from your high.

Your chest is heaving as you come back down to Earth. You find the stregnth to prop yourself up on your elbows despite the way your vision swims and your body shakes. Just as you do, Hobie pulls his fingers out and pops them into his mouth. He licks them clean without an ounce of shame. You swear you see his eyes sparkle.

You watch him in silence as you work to catch your breath. When he's satisfied with the state of his fingers he pops back up to cage you between his arms.

"We even?" he asks. The amused look painted across his face makes your heart jump.

You nod, "Yes. Very, very even."

"Good." he plants a kiss on your cheek. You excuse it as him being caught up in the moment. His jaw tightens for a fraction of a second. At least the brief look of guilt means you're on the same page about post-sex cheek kisses.

"Now you get to take two real showers," he pokes you in the side. Teasing as a means of recovery, classic.

You lean further forward to try to read the clock on the nightstand. When you turn your head back, your face is mere inches from Hobie's. "It's 5:30. And if I'm not down there at six sharp I know Riri will leave without me. I don't have time to shower again."

"Mm," he nods and leans closer until the space between you is all but non-existent, "I could lick ya clean."

"Hobie!" you plant your hands on your chest and shove him backwards. He plays into it and lets himself fall back onto the floor.

"'No thanks' is an answer too, you know!" he laughs.

You stick your tongue out at him. He's too busy unzipping your backpack to see it.

"Excuse me! That's my bag!" you wave a hand in front of his face.

He pushes your hand out of the way and keeps digging through your belongings. "You asked me to get you clothes!"

"And you told me to go fuck myself!" you remind him.

"No!" he scoffs, placing the clothes he's picked on the bed next to you, "I told you to come out here so that I could fuck you."

It's physically painful not to laugh, but you manage. You scoop up the clothes and slide off the bed. "This is why no one wants to room with you, Hobart!" You catch his laughter for a short moment before slamming the bathroom door behind you.