#black cat!hobie

[nikkeora]

Black Cat!Hobie design from my Spidersona's dimension! (Earth number tbd)

It's only been like a little over a month since I did it and I don't completely hate it yet so that's good ig

@the-kr8tor look what you made me do. You made me use BC!Hobie as rent. The irony.

[eyesxxyou]

Fun & Games

☆🕷️。・hobie brown x blackcat!reader

rating. m

word count. 3.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You both love your fun and games.

[hanasnx]

hobie meeting black cat!reader 😵‍💫 the chaos. the flirting. the tension. i need it.

MINORS DNI 18+

omg! i was just talking about this concept with my bff let me share the highlights

! ── being a black cat, means you’re good with your hands (in more ways that one). you’ve got sticky fingers, and you’d take things it’d take a second for him to notice are gone. now, HOBIE BROWN's no amateur in thievery nor spidering but you’d still manage to pull one over on him every once in a while. walk into his eye sight wearing his vest, sweeping your hair out from underneath it, and playing keep away because you that badly want him to chase you. and try to touch you in any way.

! ── your relationship with him is less than formal. he does view you as you are, an actual threat but he can see through some of your veiled interactions. a single claw runs down his chest, having pinned him underneath you in a straddle. “you know it’s bad luck to cross me, right?”

he’s sick of your distraction. “enough playin’, girl, i’ve got shit to do tonight.”

it’s so like you to toy with him.

! ── you had met before, he’s had to stop you in your endeavors. but the first time you and him really connect is because you’d taken a job that crossed your paths a little more deliberately. your client paid you to steal spider-punk’s guitar. you couldn’t back down from a challenge, nor an excuse to talk to the object of your fascination. of course it was foiled, but your other goal of getting closer to the spider wasn’t.

! ── you have the classic arc of trying to go straight, and that’s when you and hobie’s relationship really blossoms. you’ve told him you’ve committed to his side of things, even if your villainous ways call out to you every so often.

! ── there was probably a point during your enemy phase that you guys hate fucked to get that tension out. relieve some of the steam from the pot.

“we can’t do this again.” he tells you in between locked lips.

“yeah, yeah, just shut up and take your pants off.”

! ── you’d be addicted to his strength.. you’d fight him in bed but only for show. you like it when he’s gotta put a brat like you in your place.

[baiabay]

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Prologue: Diamonds Are a Girl's Best Friend

Chapter 1: 

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

Chapter 4:

Chapter 5:

Chapter 6:

^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name <33

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A/N: Hey to whoever reading this! Thanks for taking the time to do so !! This is the first fic i’ve wrote ever so please excuse any hiccups. This concept of a Black Cat variant has been bouncing around in my head since the first movie, so I decided to write it down. I’m not really sure if I’ll continue this to be a full story, (if I see that people are reading it, then of course I will), but this is kinda like a prologue/test chapter so my ideas don’t die without ever seeing the light of day. I’ll also be posting this on ao3 under the same title!! Feel free to comment, criticize, and give any ideas into how I can further incorporate the reader into the plot. Thanks again & enjoy!

P.S. I’m not sure if I want this to be romantic or just a reader-insert just yet. So don’t expect romance anytime too soon.

WORD COUNT: 1337

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You hated to admit it, but it was such a rush.

The drop of your stomach when you lowered into the building,

The sound of your heart pumping in your head as you weaved your way past security,

The adrenaline rush while you whip around the city, knowing that the job was done, all with your face remaining unknown. 

… Who are you kidding? You loved to admit it.

Well, you never would actually admit it, that would ruin the whole ‘secret identity’ thing you’ve got going on, but you get the idea.

It was exhilarating. And almost comical. Quite comical, actually. How you would swipe these valued works from right under the noses of whatever snob owned the museum. You’d think if they were so valued, they’d invest in better security measures, but here we are. 

For around five months now, you’ve been Brooklyn's one and only* Black Cat. At least that’s what they liked to call you. Your actual name was Y/N Hardy, and you weren’t all that special. Born here, lived here, parents died here, and after months of wallowing over that, you ended up picking up this gig. Something in you wanted to make a name for yourself. You craved some sort of recognition, plus rent had to be paid somehow. 

Your kleptomaniac tendencies turned out quite useful in the end, a few months ago you managed to turn in enough goods to afford you a spot at Brooklyn Visions. Before they passed, your parents hated that school, but it had always been your dream to go. 

Being The Cat was terribly easy. Go in, take shit, go out, sell shit. With the money you’d obviously take care of your needs first, it only being you and your cats in your apartment - food, student fees, cute clothes on the side, you know the works. But the leftovers, you always gave back. One thing you kept from your father was to always remember to give back. “If not, you’re just as bad as those sons of bitches you’re taking from”, he’d always say. 

From the older lady down in room 213, who isn’t able to afford medical now that her kids moved out. 

To the young queen who makes her pay from gigs at clubs after being kicked out by her parents.

The single dad with three girls, the kid who caught onto drugs way too early, the janitor, all the way down to that dog with one leg missing(as much as you strongly prefer felines), they all needed your help. They all needed Black Cat. They never questioned where the money came from, it’s always been this way. You didn’t live on the pretty side of town, cash is cash and as long as it ends up in their hands, it never mattered the methods taken to get there. 

You had no complaints, it made your job easier. You’d show up to them as Y/N, money in hand, they’d call you generous, and that was it. No suspicion towards The Cat whatsoever. Smooth interactions every time, it was terribly easy.

Except for right now. 

Right now, standing right inbetween you and your next paycheque( a diamond necklace ), is a boy. 

A boy when you’d sworn the gallery would’ve been long closed and empty by the time you started your heist. 

A boy sporting a spider-suit.

You’d heard of the city’s new hero for a while now, although you paid no mind to it, as he’s been dealing with more relevant criminals, and you’ve been stealing for this long without any hint of his interest towards your activities. You suppose the rise of news reports on your…endeavors are what may have drawn him here, but why now?

Why him ?

It’s now been a good thirty seconds of silent staring between you and the spider-boy, you were suddenly grateful for your mask, while sweaty, concealed the ever-growing grimace on your face as this awkward silence lengthened. 

The boy breathed in. 

“So…”

You took the noise as your ‘go’ signal, and ran. Pushing past him in the process, you aimed your whip towards the necklaces’ glass case, and flexed your arm. A sickening crack of glass followed shortly. Good.

“Wh- Hey!” 

The Spider called after you, seemingly taken aback by your sudden dash. 

“Where,” He leaped off the walls, and into the air, in a matter of seconds. 

“do you think,” He released his webbing in your direction(shit, you forgot about that), it wrapping around your form, tripping you up in the process.

“you’re going!” Spider pulled(shit), before you could whip your way towards your exit, you found yourself tied up, feeling almost cocoon-esque, hanging right above the glass case, feet-first from the ceiling, face-to-face with Spider-man. How humiliating.

“Just…admiring the art, is all.” You finally spoke, shakiness in your voice prevalent. You’ve never been caught before. 

“Right,” Spider quipped back, stretching the R.  “and your version of admiring includes theft?”

“Woah! Okay, well ‘theft’ is a bit intense,” You snickered under the mask. Spiders’ masked eyes narrowed. 

“how do you know I’m not planning on returning it? I’d much rather call it ‘borrowing.’”

“Yeah? Well, seems your ‘borrowing’ hobby will have to end, Cat.” Spider let out a small grunt, before flipping over and landing right on top of the glass case below the two of you. Another crack. Perfect. 

“Looks like the Cat’s in the bag, huh?” He laughed to himself. 

A silent beat passed. 

The Spider, now focused on writing some sort of sticker label for when the cops show, had not noticed your insistent wriggling back up on the ceiling. You had hoped that maybe with enough squirming-

The webbing loosened.

With enough squirming maybe you could-

You reached for your whip.

Maybe you could-

You flicked your wrist, aiming to latch onto something, anything. And pulled. 

CRASH

Finally.

You dropped down onto your toes, right beside the thing that started it all. That damn diamond necklace. 

Glass littered the gallery floors, reflecting light and creating all kinds of shapes you would’ve loved to admire had Spider not been racing after you, eyes trained on the necklace now in your hands. 

From an outside perspective, it appeared as if you two were dancing. Punches were tossed, webs slung, sarcastic quips made, whips thrown, all dodged masterfully by the two of you. Neither of you two were letting up. This buzz of adrenaline, the energy pricking at your skin, gave you that feeling you always loved when you left the house as The Black Cat- you felt utterly and wholeheartedly alive.

As you managed to land one kick to Spiders stomach, you felt alive. As you used your grappling hook to fling yourself through your exit, you felt alive- 

“What’s wrong Webby? Cat’s got your tongue?” You shouted, from atop your exit window, looking down at the spider-boy, the widest grin you’ve ever sported concealed under your mask. 

Miles took note of how your masked eyes squinted, the clear smile in your voice. You were enjoying this. 

And you were enjoying this - necklace now hastily stuffed into your satchel, you flipped backwards off the building, removed your mask and screamed. 

It was different this time, being caught, the chase, the fight, it gave you this high. A high you’ve never felt before. As you grappled your way through the night, your smile persisted. 

By the time you made it back to your apartment, you were winded. You had come down from whatever buzz you were feeling earlier, now ridden with aches and exhaustion. 

Suit off, cats fed, hair washed, necklace stored(you debated keeping it for yourself for memories sake or cashing it in as originally planned), you made it to your bed. Adrenaline at a low, you still felt giddy. 

You hated to admit it, but that was actually… fun. 

Smiling one last time, you decided to roll over and force yourself to sleep, thoughts of the night’s activities bouncing softly in your mind. 

“… Spider-man, huh?”

[freyanistics]

Obsessed with them

Artist is Majoruyeda

[szasfuckingwife]

SELFISH

HOBIE BROWN X BLACK CAT!READER

WARNINGS: smut, black cat is white in comics but there’s no mention of race here, black reader in mind tho, british slang, gwen stacy is mentioned but it’s the gwen in hobies earth NOT ghost spider gwen , royal family existence

a/n: wrote this for my black british ppl dem, hobies existence kinda made me proud. i put some british slang/phrases here n there. also, black cat is an underrated love interest i wish they put her in a movie.

It’s midnight, what better time to steal the crown jewels? Yes, it’s heavily guarded and there’s a slim chance you’ll even make it out alive but you needed them more than some overrated family. They don’t even belong to the royals, right?

You navigate through the tower of London, looking for something worthy of taking and risking your life for. Last time, you took (what was apparently) Queen Victoria’s robe and one of those fancy looking crowns. This is light work to you, but since you know the guards will be changing shifts in fifteen minutes, all you want to do is get the big one and leave.

Oh, what’s the big one you ask? St Edwards crown.

Yes, it’s not entirely ethical, robbing something from the most notorious robbers in history but it’s better off them and in someone elses hands, you figure.

Someone reliable, honest and responsible like you

Plus, your not greedy, the charity organisations were frequently shocked when ‘Anonymous’ donated $1,000,000 every month or so.

When you come face to face with with St Edwards Crown, your eyes widen behind your black goggles in amusement. The diamonds looked so…big.

After you fawned over the gleam of all the rubies and diamonds, you took out your laser and, carefully, cut a circle into the glass. Slowly, and gently, you pulled the cut glass away from the rest of the box.

Once your gloved hands touched the crown, you felt an odd chill in your spine.

“Oh, don’t mind me, love, just enjoying the show..” That familiar voice causes a smirk to appear on your face. When you turn around, you see that same patriotic red and blue covered by silver spikes. He’s leaning on the wall, arms crossed. You wonder how long he’s been standing there.

Or if he even cares that you’re stealing from his beloved monarchy.

“Spidey, strange to see you here…” You smirk before quickly replacing the real crown with a replica so no weight detectors could go off. Hobie smirked behind his spiked mask, “Strange to see me ‘ere? In my city?”

You loudly roll your eyes, putting your new souvenir in your bag. “Y’know what I mean. Did you see what I got this time?”

“The big one…Look at you! A year ago you were robbing the richest men in Dubai..” He chuckled as you smiled at his compliment. His heavy boots almost scare you when he walks up to you, he could alarm a guard.

Not wanting to cause a breach in security, you took out your grappler and shot up to the ceiling, “I’d love to stay with you, Bee, but a new apartment is calling my name!”

Bee. He smiled at the nickname as he remembered the many times you’d say it.

He stares at your every move, and how every one of your movements makes your body look so damn sexy. Your latex black suit giving you that perfect silhouette, not to mention the fluffy white fur on your calf and chest that ultimately made you look regal.

“For fuck sake..” He sighed. He remember what Miguel commanded.

‘Stop being an anarchist or whatever you call yourself and actually try capture the bad guys!’

Suddenly, five bright flashes shone into Hobies eyes, blinding the man as security guards rushed into the room. They had their tasers in one hand and flashlights in the other, analysing the room and the shattered glass from the glass roof. All Hobie could do in response was kiss his teeth.

“Took you lot long enough…” He raised his hands, surrendering as if he was trying to make them think that they had control.

They stepped closer to him, “What are you doin ‘ere, Spider?”

Hobie groaned again. The fact that this was the useless security the stupid government spent so much on made him sick, “Tryna catch the cat that’s been stealing shit from all around the world, you donut!”

One of the security guards looked at the missing artefacts and looked back at Hobie.

Hobie scoffed, “I knew you man were racist, but you’re really gonna accuse a black man for stealing these fucking jewels that don’t even belong to that bloke in the castle?!”

The security men didn’t know what to think, looking at each other to answer spiderman. They didn’t even know spiderman was black! “N-No! I would never-”

“Shut up, just shut up.” Under his mask, Hobie smirked. He webbed up to the ceiling, leaving the security guards gobsmacked. “If I ever see you again, it’s wraps, understand?”

They all nod.

“Wasteman…” he muttered, before chasing after you.

You ran along London rooftops, your movements a little slow due to the heaviness of your bag. This stealing shit was tiring, you hoped once you sold the jewels, you’d be able to live comfortably for the rest of your life.

After a few more leaps, you rested on the top of the shard, overlooking London and it’s nightlife. From here, you could see Leicester square and almost smell the food. You sighed, taking in the city.

Dreams of getting rich might’ve blinded your vision, but the rush feels exhilarating.

“You dropped this..” You turn around seeing Hobie, without his mask. He held a shiny ruby in between his fingers. “Come get it, kitty.”

You rolled your eyes at his banter and stood, walking towards him. As much as you tried to get him out of your head, his smile alone sent thousands of butterflies to your stomach. “Why are you following me so much, hm? Thought your big bad boss made it clear there’s a Gwen Stacy here that you have to be with-”

“And when have I ever listened to him?” He steps closer, placing the ruby in your hand. You watched him as he carefully removed your mask from your face, finally seeing your face.

You recall the time when he told you about this Gwen Stacy and how Miguel clearly expressed his disappointment that someone as smart as Hobie would ruin the multiverse due to his selfishness and some ‘petty thief’. As much as you understood all this about canon events and the multiverses, you loved Hobie too much to let him go to that fashion designer, Gwen Stacy.

However, after a lot of thinking, you decided it was best if you left him, not wanting him to face any problems with Miguel.

But, you miss him. You miss the smell of his cigarettes, the sound of his guitar, the feel of his naked skin pressed against yours.

It was for the best.

“Hobie, go away.” You try to snatch your back from him but he moved his arm above your head. His smile deepens as you cross your arms, looking up at you.

God, he missed you.

“Me and Gwen? It’s like watching paint dry. It’s boring. And most importantly, she’s not you!” His callous hands stroke your cheek, has he ever been this soft? “All I want is you.”

“You can’t have me. Miguel will have your head-” “Let him have it!” Hobie exclaims, as if that is a reasonable answer. You curse under your breath, pinching the bridge of your nose.

Hobie chuckles slightly because he knows you, and he knows his love for you. But when he sees you look at him sternly, all smiles stop.

“Why can’t you just understand that I want you to be safe, fuckin idiot..” You sigh. Hobie sighs too, but out of frustration. The two of you were like immovable object meets unstoppable force. Both as stubborn as each other.

He grabs your face and rests his forehead against yours. You cringe slightly at the feeling of his eyebrow piercing but look into his eyes anyway, “Fuck Miguel. I’m safe with you, I want you.”

Bastard, you thought before planting a kiss on his lips. He held you tightly, gripping onto your hip before deepening the kiss. Hobie’s kisses are something you’ve missed, especially the horny, sloppy kisses like the one you share now.

His hands search for a zip or any easy way to undress you as remove his punkish denim jacket. The feeling of you two undressing each other whilst standing on top of a tower is inexplicable. All you want right now is him, all of him.

He finally finds the zip to your suit and he marvels at the reveal of your chest, it almost makes him stain his trousers. It also didn’t help that you were wearing only your panties underneath.

Hobie would pay thousands, millions if he could see you dressed in nothing but the many jewellery you stole.

You’re just so badass.

“Lay…down..” He whispered in between kisses. You did as he said and lowered yourself to the floor. You stay mindful of your bag of opulence, trying not to knock it off the tower and bash someones head in.

He follows you down, not breaking his steamy kiss. By now, you both are half naked, staring at each other with nothing but pure ecstasy. “Ya gonna let me make you feel good?”

Whilst Hobie males you feel oh so good, you decide it’s time to make him feel just as good. You flip him over and straddle his crotch, staring down at your ex.

No, your boyfriend.

Hobie was already hard just by looking at you, but you grinding on his lap and leaving wet kisses on his torso may send him to a whole different dimension.

You let your fingers travel until you find the hem of his boxers, batting your lashes at him when you pull them down.

Now, Hobie was huge, you know this, but after months of your short lived ‘break up’ you truly forgot how big he felt inside you.

“F-fuckin hell..”, He groans, you figure he must’ve forgotten how good your gummy walls feel when he thrusts up into you. You instantly feel his hands grip onto your hips, rocking you back n’ forth while he feels you nipping at his ear. “Fuck sake, Y/N.”

After a few small movements, you begin to ride him. Your ass bounces off his pelvis as you moan in satisfaction. Hobie looks at you as if you were an angel, but then he sees your claws scratching his chest and he realises you are anything but.

“I missed this..”, You breathed, trying to uphold your dominant side. But it felt too good. “I missed you..”

You’re achingly close to your orgasm just when Hobie flips you around on your back. He looks beautiful with the stars behind him. “Missed you too, kitty.”

Wet, breathless kisses are left on your breasts as if Hobie wants to take you all in just incase something happens. You feel his cock slide inside you again as he whispers into your ear, “You’re so fuckin tight.”

His thrusts speed up as he builds up that sensation again, he wants to decorate your insides with his cum and there’s nothing you want more but for him to do so.

If anyone walked onto the roof and saw the sight of Spiderman fucking the Black Cat so roughly, they’d either faint or run to the newspaper agencies, claiming insanities. But, you wouldn’t mind if someone caught the two of you.

I mean, by the way you’re moaning, you must want someone to find you.

“I’m gonna…cum..” You mewled, gripping onto Hobie’s arms He closed your open mouth with a kiss, letting your moans fall onto his tongue. “Hobiee…fuck!”

“Wait f’ me…I’m so close, babe!” He nipped at your neck as you moaned for the whole city to hear. “Fuckin shit!”

With one more thrust, both of you shook as you climaxed, Hobie kissing your forehead repeatedly. The moans were gone, and replaced with panting. You quickly found your panties and suit and dressed yourself.

You heard Hobie whistle, then chuckle, “Got to do that more often, love.”

“We can after we take this to your place. I’m fuckin freezing, I need hot chocolate!”

“The way I make it?”

You look at his cocky smile, “Duh?”

BONUS:

The next morning, you find yourself clad in Hobie’s Sex Pistol tee, sipping hot chocolate opposite Hobie who’s leaning in his chair, tickling his guitar strings.

“What are your plans for today?” You ask, resting your head on your hand.

“Nuffin..” He sighs as he concocts a new melody with his instrument. “You?”

“Nuffin..”, You sip your drink once more and stare off to the distance.

There is a gentle moment of silence before a blue hexagon appears in Hobie’s living room. You look at Hobie in confusion, why would his spider society choose to come this early?

From the portal, Gwen and a brown haired man holding a ginger haired baby walk in. You’ve met Gwen a couple of time but not the middle aged man.

“Hobie, we need your help with this spiderman called Miles- WOAH!” The man spoke before notcing you, someone he’s never seen before, in Hobies apartment, in Hobies shirts.

“Uhhh…Hobie, there’s somebody in your-” “Peter..” Hobie began, before taking the baby from Peter.

“That ain’t somebody..” He gave you the baby in his hands.

The cute baby looked up at you curiously as you smiled down at her.

“That’s my gyal.”

[fl3shm4id3n]

Has anyone done a Hobie Brown/Spider Punk x Goth! Black Cat! Reader? If not, I'll be down into doing it.

[honeymilkbubbletea]

ProwlerPunk was nice, but what about... GoldenProwler? (Does this ship even have a name???)

I mean, Miles has two hands for a reson 🤷‍♀️

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Spider-Punk x Black Cat: Punk!Cat Headcanons

Yes, I'm doing this. Every Spider-Man needs his Cat.

First of all, they'll be the first to tell you they are not dating.

If you ask, they'll both say 'We hate labels'. It's their thing.

If Hobie is the king of all things anti-facist then Felicia is the monarch of rage fueled feminism and anti-capitalism

Hates all things classist, racist and sexist and has a 'k!ll your local rap*st' patch on her battle vest

And her weapon of choice is spiked-out brass knuckle claws

Hobie towers over her (like he does everyone), but Felicia's ten times louder and twice as confrontational. Felicia in any universe talks bold with no filter, and Punk!Cat is that turned up to eleven

Which is probably why she's on vocals in the band

She has a mouth like a sailor and an accent as thick as Hobie's, so mixed with his slang, their conversation are literally British-dipped jibberish

Her style sits on the border of old-school punk and trad goth. She's usually in all black and white, compared to Hobie's red and blue, and sometime her domino mask is swapped out for trad goth style eyeliner

The motives align more than any other Spider-Man, at that makes things a lot easier.

Hobie loves a girl who can do a little direct action, and his anarchist beliefs align more with hers than any other Spider-man.

Though they did have to get over the fact he's an anarchist and she's a communist (she constantly says to him 'i dont believe in private property')

Of course she likes to steal, and she's real good at it

To most Spider-men this would be annoying, but Hobie actually finds it fairly impressive.

She steals things for him constantly, and he keeps every single thing she gives him. Lots of times they turn out to be useful, especially in his builds

Punk!Cat steals shit from museums to return objects back to their native countries and defaces pieces from racist, sexist artists

Steals from banks to handover the money to grass-roots resistance movements

And since Hobie is one of the only Spider-men to hate cops (blue laces people) he's always there to happily protect her from the pigs

She's still herself, but a bit different than most Felicias

Every Felicia is a little 'not normal' about Spider-Man, and Punk!Cat is the same, but approaches it from a different angle

She'll call Hobie a hero only because she know it bugs the day lights out of him

But unlike a LOT of Felicias, Punk!Cat outright hates Spider-Man merch and imagery

She thinks it's incredibly exploitative of Hobie and everything he stands for.

And she hates their totalitarian J.Jonah more than anything because if theres one thing she hates, it's misinformation and propaganda

Although most Fe's love their jewlery like no other, Punk!Cat takes another slight deviation -

Punk!Cat knows that things like diamonds, pearls, and gold has been used as items of oppression for literal centuries. Instead of a taste for items of bougeois lust, Felicia is much more into punk jewlery

She loves everything pinned, spiked, and covered in soda tabs. Her hero uniform is covered in chains, and even her canon 3-claw grappling hook is replaced with a heavy chain and hook she fashioned herself. Scavanged, of course.

She's really close with Gwen and Pavi

Community outreach is everything to a punk, ya'll

Her and Gwen get along immediately. Felicia is never one to be quick to jealousy and she accepts Gwen with open arms.

Gwen turns up to Hobie's universe distraught and homeless.

She teaches her about squatters rights and how her and Hobie keep a roof over their heads, always made sure she had toiletries and someone to talk to, because she knows what it's like to have a strained relationship with your dad

Pavi takes to everyone quickly, but when he and Felicia are together, it gets LOUD

The Spider-Society hates her

And Felicia and Hobie love it

Hobie had no idea how controversial dating Felicia would be. Not for band fans, but for all the other Spider-people

Turns out, Felicias aren't very popular with the Society

The both of them thinks it hilarious

They tell him Spider-people are suppose to be with their MJ's. That's how it's meant to be.

Dating a Felicia or saving a Gwen is an anonmaly waiting to happen.

But neither of them care, and if anything, that only eggs them on. If everyone thinks they're 'bound' to breakup eventually then thats even more reason for them to stick together.

Hobie has absolutely made Felicia her own watch

One which she uses to crash the Spider-Society every now and again

Because of this, Miguel hates her and Jess is just so done with the both of them

Even if Hobie and Peter.B are in no way close, Peter seems to be the only adult in their corner. As a Spider-man that didn't have the most conventional story with his MJ, he's more than supportive of Hobie and his unconventional story with Felicia. He figures if he and MJ can make it work, so can they.

Her and Gwen bond over the awkwardness of being variants of the dead or ex-girlfriend of most of the Spider-society, and how Spider-men see them because of it

And when it's time to take the Society down, she's the first in line (after Hobie, Gwen, and Pavi of course)

[maleliddell]

Tomorrow I start my classes and I don't have time to draw more memes

[zapreportsblog]

In Love With The Same Cat

➥ summary : There’s no Spider-Man without the Black Cat just like there’s no Black Cat without Spider-Man. But what if we had a multiverse dimensional traveling jewelry stealing burglar Black Cat (try saying that seven times fast aye) that traveled across dimensions not only stealing the worlds finest jewels but also the hearts of four unlucky, or lucky depending on how you see it Spider-Man’s and Spider-Women’s hearts.

➥ chapter 1: The Daughter of Shadows

In the bustling city of Brightville, a young girl named (y/n) grew up in the enigmatic embrace of her father, Walter Hardy, a renowned and elusive cat burglar. From a tender age, (y/n) was immersed in a world of shadows and secrets, a life that few could comprehend. Under her father's watchful eye, she learned not only the art of thievery but also the invaluable lessons of confidence and seizing life's opportunities.

Walter Hardy was a figure shrouded in mystery, his exploits whispered in hushed tones among the criminal underworld. But to (y/n), he was simply her loving father—a man whose presence both comforted and challenged her. Despite the unconventional nature of their lives, Walter was determined to raise (y/n) to be a strong and confident individual, encouraging her to embrace the world with fearless determination.

From an early age, (y/n) became Walter's protégé, accompanying him on various heists and observing his every move with wide-eyed curiosity. The dark alleys and high-rise rooftops became her playground, where she learned the art of agility and the thrill of outsmarting the odds. Walter, recognizing her natural talent and thirst for knowledge, nurtured her abilities, teaching her the intricacies of the trade while instilling in her a strong moral compass.

One sunny afternoon, as (y/n) carefully observed her father's nimble maneuvers, he paused and turned to her with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "My dear (y/n)," he said, his voice laced with warmth and conviction, "life is a grand heist waiting to be seized. Do not fear the unknown, but rather embrace it with confidence. Only then can you truly discover the treasures hidden within."

With those words etched into her young heart, (y/n) embarked on a journey of self-discovery and resilience. She learned to navigate the intricate webs of deception and subterfuge, honing her skills in the art of illusion and misdirection. But more importantly, she learned to believe in herself—to trust her instincts and to never back down from a challenge.

Walter encouraged (y/n) to explore beyond the confines of their nocturnal escapades, exposing her to a multitude of experiences that would shape her worldview. They attended art exhibitions, where they marveled at the strokes of a master's brush, and visited bustling markets, where (y/n) haggled with vendors and embraced the vibrant tapestry of cultures. Through these experiences, Walter instilled in her the importance of a well-rounded education, cultivating her intellect and expanding her horizons.

But it was not just the thrill of adventure that defined their relationship. In the quiet moments, when the city slept and the moon bathed the world in its ethereal glow, (y/n) and Walter would sit beneath the starry sky, sharing stories of their past and dreaming of the future. It was in these stolen moments that (y/n) discovered the depth of her father's love—a love that transcended their clandestine activities and embraced the essence of family.

As the years passed, (y/n) grew into a confident young woman, her spirit untamed and her resolve unyielding. She possessed an uncanny ability to blend seamlessly into any situation, her nimble fingers and quick wit serving her well in the world her father had introduced her to. But it was her unwavering confidence that set her apart—a quality that Walter had nurtured from her earliest days.

With each heist they embarked upon, (y/n) faced challenges head-on, her unwavering confidence shining through the darkness that surrounded them. She reveled in the adrenaline rush, the thrill of outsmarting her adversaries, and the satisfaction of retrieving the treasured artifacts they sought. Through it all, she carried with her the lessons her father had imparted—the importance of self-belief and the courage to seize every opportunity that presented itself.

As (y/n) stood on the precipice of her own journey, she carried the legacy of her father's teachings within her heart. The world awaited her, full of untold adventures and uncharted territories. With Walter's lessons guiding her, she knew that she had the tools to carve her own path, to embrace the shadows and emerge victorious.

In the heart of Brightville, (y/n) stood as a testament to her father's unwavering belief in her potential. She was more than the daughter of a cat burglar; she was a force to be reckoned with—a beacon of confidence and resilience in a world that often sought to overshadow her. And as she prepared to step into the spotlight, she did so with the knowledge that she was the culmination of her father's love and guidance—a testament to the indomitable spirit that Walter Hardy had instilled within her.

[whaliiwatching]

Hey, my cat is getting put to sleep tomorrow and your noirpunk fic has been helping me process this and is very comforting so thank you a million times for it, I hope you have a fantastic week

fuck, dude, i’m so sorry. i lost my cat a while ago too. it’s awful and i still miss her.

i’m glad my writing could help a little. couldn’t finish this today, but here’s a sketch based on a fic idea i’ve been cooking for a bit. i hope it makes you smile. take care of yourself <3

[oliveroctavius]

A random selection of edits made with the comic halftone flags from this post

[baiabay]

No Role Modelz (ATSV Black Cat Variant! Reader Insert)

Chapter 1: Scaredy-Cat

Prologue

Chapter 1: Current Chapter

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

^^links 2 chapters!! this story is also on ao3, wattpad, and quotev under the same name ! <33

------------------------------------------------

A/N: Spot is here!!

 Hey all! Okay so first things first thank you so much for all the support of the last chapter! It honestly means alot given that ive never written before lol. Alsoooo sorry for the radio-silence after the last release, i just graduated highschool! So yay for me :) also means that ill have much more time to write since its summer break for me now. Lastly,sorry if this chapter seemed kinda slow, I wanted to try to incorporate what this universes’ Felicia Hardys “canon events”(or what would be of her canon events) would look like in this chapter to set up a bit of backstory, as someone who doesn’t read the comics nor play the games, pls forgive any inaccuracies in Felicias lore as I am only going based off of wikipedia (plus in this story reader is a minor so I wanted to exclude the nsfw trauma that Felicia goes through in og story) I also wanted to find out a way how to integrate reader into the main plot which is why i decided to feature Spot in this chapter :D thanks again for the support and don’t forget that this chapter along with any future ones will be posted to ao3/tumblr under the same title!

P.S. Much more Spider-Miles/Black Cat interactions next chapter!!

Word Count: 1844

---------------------------------------------------

You remembered it like it was yesterday.

Seven months ago, Brooklyn, New York.

Your father - The Black Cat’s face on every screen in the country, but most importantly yours.

BREAKING NEWS: WORLD-RENOWNED CAT BURGLAR CAUGHT IN THE ACT : IDENTITY SHOCKS THE NATION

…huh?

LIVE ON THE SCENE: ‘BLACK CAT’ REVEALED TO BE MULTI MILLIONAIRE WALTER HARDY AFTER RUN-IN WITH SPIDER-MAN

…no, this-

THIS JUST IN: CAT BURGLAR WALTER HARDY PRESUMED DEAD AT HEIST SCENE - POSSESSIONS TO BE TURNED IN TO OFFICIALS

This can’t be happening.

It was all too much at once. 

He never kept it secret from you. You knew about your father’s job.

You knew all about what he did. The planning, the heists, the reselling, he had done it for years. And you knew all about it.  But he had been doing this for years. Long enough to allow your family to live very comfortably. Long enough that you believed he would never be caught.

But yet there you were, all that you knew burned to the ground in a matter of minutes.

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Frantically packing everything you could into any bag you could find; clothes, money, pictures, weapons, anything - before they could take it away from you. 

And when they did, it was brutal. 

Live-streamed news coverage of men raiding your home, rummaging through your stuff- your father’s stuff- as if he never existed. 

Soon enough there were auctions. Bids, worth millions, on your father’s items, broadcasted across the nation, with drinks and music and finger foods - they made a fucking sport out of it. 

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the cheers in the street after the big-bad-black-cat was pronounced dead. The endless praise Spider-man received, that of which he took with a smile on his face. You had wished you could kill him.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, the day Peter Parker died.

You laughed.

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .  

Seven months later, Brooklyn, New York.

Ugh.

Muscles aching, you stretched up in your bed, and groaned. Ruffling the bedhead out of your hair, you reluctantly trudged out of your mattress to open a window. Coincidentally, one of your many cats was perched perfectly on its sill, wide-eyed and tail flicking in your direction.

“...This whole heist stuff is really catching up to me, huh?”

The cat stared. You sighed. You really had to get yourself some friends.

Ever since your fathers passing, you’ve basically been on your own. Shortly after all his (and your) possessions were seized, you hopped around until you managed to find shelter in a shitty apartment on the west side of town. You, fueled purely by spite (with a tasteful teeny tiny dash of vengeance on the side), inherited the criminal persona of your father, along with his criminal tendencies, and took upon yourself the name of The Black Cat. 

All this time you’ve managed to keep your identity completely secret, not even your resellers knew who you were. That came with one major drawback though… you were extremely lonely.

Even with your frequent charity rounds around the community, noone really knew who you were. Even though Black Cat was nonviolent, the name was widely feared seemingly everywhere you went. Even with your days at school, the school you’ve been going to for months now, you made your way around the halls unnoticed. 

Speaking of school, you were late. 

Shit. 

Spending ample time dazing out your window, you’ve completely lost track of time. You disregarded your hair and rushed to pull on your uniform. Stumbling around your complex you hastily dumped too large of a portion of cat food into the automatic feeder, something you’re sure the cats will be grateful for. Shoving a few snacks into your bag, you simultaneously shuffled into your school shoes, proceeding to dash out the door. 

Sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping once, twice, you whipped out your phone to check when the next bus route would arrive. 35 minutes.

Shitshitshit.

You paused, still in the stairwell, before turning to sprint in the opposite direction, towards the rooftop terrace. Creaking open the door, you checked to make sure noone else was up there before making your way towards the edge of the terrace. To anyone else but you, it would look like a young student was about to make an unfortunate decision and jump. And jump you did. 

You fell for a few seconds, relishing in the way your stomach dropped. You’d never get tired of that feeling. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building. Pulling and releasing, you quickly fell into a swinging pattern, towards Brooklyn Visions. 

Hidden from the eyes of civilians, you swung yourself through the shadows. Everyone looked so small from up there, and for a brief second, you found power in your lonesome. In the corner of your eye you noticed what seemed to be a lanky white figure clumsily flying through the air. (You paid it no mind).

Dropping down into a dark alleyway much closer to campus, you continued your mad dash towards the main entrance. Winded, you finally made your way inside the building, a thin layer of sweat shined on your forehead. The hallways were empty, class must be in session. You took a few steps forward, making your way towards your classroom until being knocked over by a student, very evidently in a hurry. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t mean to-I’m just in a rush, I didn’t mean…”

The boy reached out his hand to help you up.

“Hey, it's no problem, I get it.”

You smiled, and took your hand in his. He hesitated for a moment, staring, brows furrowed at your now interlocked hands, before nodding and continuing his sprint down the hallways. 

You took in his disheveled appearance, his wonky tie, his half-tucked shirt, untied laces, dark eyes, curly hair, brown skin, sweaty palms…

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted with the shrill ringing of the school bell. Suddenly, the hallways flooded with students rushing towards their next classes, you decided to follow suit. 

On the other side of the hallway, Miles Morales lingered on how his spidey-sense flashed alarms in his head when his hand touched yours. Every nerve in his system telling him to run, fight, dodge, anything to get away from you-he couldn't put his finger on why. (He paid it no mind). Blaming it on nerves, Miles shoved his way through the packed hallways, dreading the meeting waiting for him in the guidance counselor's office. 

.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    .    

School was a bust, as always. Nothing new, you made your way through the rest of the day unnoticed. As always. But you didn’t have time to think about that right now.

At the moment, you were in the middle of going through numerous number-codes on a padlock blocking the vault door to an extremely expensive gemstone. You’ve been salivating over this stone for weeks now, planning out how and when exactly you would strike to get this thing in your hands. You could see it now, the headlines, the chaos, after some rando millionaire’s little rock was taken from him…

“Woah, hey, you’re new!”

You flinched, hard. Whipping around towards the source of this unusually chipper voice. You were met with… a cow? … Man?

You stared, hard. 

“Okay, hey. The ogling isn’t necessary… I just-”

The cowman’s sentence was cut short with a quick lash of your whip, that of which he caught…? Your whip seemed to phase right through a large black hole on his torso, the opposite end appearing in a similar black hole right behind you, the whips end striking your back. You cried out, hit with the full force of your lash.

Sinister giggles emerged from the spotted figure, pointed towards your pained form. You trembled, in shock. 

“It’s rude to interrupt.” 

Spot stepped slowly towards you, his…well, spots, whirring aggressively, pointedly. You were frozen on the ground. Staring up at him, your lips trembled open.

“What,” You coughed. Once, twice. “-what are you?”

The black and white figure straightened, only to then fold over into a dramatic, hilariously unthreatening pose. 

“You, can call me… The Sp-”

“Some sort of cow?” You snickered. It was now his turn to flinch, hard. 

“I am NOT a-” The cow cleared his throat. “I am not a cow…whydoeseveryonesaythat…I, am the most dangerous villain you’ve ever seen, The Spo-”

“I mean, what’s with that getup?” The grin on your face grew. “Is that… is that supposed to be a costume? Orrrr…” 

The Spot sighed, defeated. “...it’s skin.”

“It’s skin?” 

“Yes, yes, now I-”

You stood up, energy back and eyes crinkled. 

“Wow, that’s…hm, interesting…skin, that’s skin? Sorry, sorry-listen man, I uh, I really gotta get back to this, so if you don’t mind?”

Stepping backwards in offence, the spotted figure shook in anger before swinging out his arm, releasing numerous dark voids around the room. Hitting practically every surface, but one most importantly, landing on the vault door, separating you, from your stone.

“Ah-wait-”

Swiftly, The Spot weaved his way through his holes, limbs popping up and out around the room in a way you couldn’t even begin to reach for your whip. 

No way was he about to take it from you.

But take it, he did.

In what felt like seconds, the whole room was engulfed in black. Stumbling backwards, you fell through one of the voids, flailing ungracefully, swimming through nothing. 

It was hard to breathe. 

A shrill crackling terrorized your ears, and before you, appeared a very disheveled Spot, now fully black with white spots, facial dot whirring and trained on you.

Gem in hand. 

Panic.

You were panicking. The sound of blood thrummed in your ears as you squirmed around in nothingness. Fuck the rock, you just had to get out of here. 

A cold hand grabs your wrist, dragging you upwards, towards the crackling form. 

For the second time today, you were frozen.

“I am not a cow,”

The form spoke lowly.

“I am not some villain of the week”,

Frozen still, you did nothing but stare straight into his glare.

“I. Am. The Spot”.

Suddenly, you were dropped. For the second time today, your stomach dropped with you. Next thing you know you’re falling through another void, leading not into darkness, but through the city skyline. Seeing the ground get closer, you released your grappling hook and latched onto the nearest building. 

As soon as your feet reached a solid surface, your legs buckled. Heaving, you failed to process what just took place, heart pounding in your ears. 

“...the fuck was that?”

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   

Miles received word of commotion taking place downtown, something to do with spots. He had hoped it wasn’t what he thought it was, and it was. It was, and was so much worse. 

Dark spots littered a large manor, maniacal cackling emerging from its center. In the corner of his eye a familiar masked figure hunched over, breathing rapidly, staring straight ahead at the mess of spots.

(He paid it some mind.)

------------------------

Ppl that asked me to tag them!(thxx 4 the support!)

@nightshxdex

@itszzmoon

@blackcat-kittyblogs

@vxxxb

<3

[freyanistics]

More of them 🤎🖤

I love seeing them out of their suits in regular outfits doing domestic things

Art by Bao

[silentdiacht]

Things that keep me up at night: ✨Spider verse edition Part 2✨

Is there a Black Cat on earth 1610? Assuming there is: How do you think she reacted when she found out that Spider-Man (the guy she’s been blue-balling for however-many years) had died and like 3 days later he’s replaced by a literal 13-14 year old child? What kind of relationship would she even have with Miles? Would she go slightly easier on him because he's a kid? Or would she go back to business as usual minus the blue-balling (because, again, kid)?

How did Hobie know Gwen’s address?!?! How was he certain Gwen would even go home if she was sent back to her dimension?? What would he have done if Miguel hadn’t sent her back? Did he even have a plan for that? Most importantly though: WHAT WAS THE CONVERSATION BETWEEN HIM AND GEORGE LIKE?!?!?! HOW MUCH OF THE SITUATION DID HE EXPLAIN TO HIM?!? DID HE CHEW HIM OUT FOR POINTING A GUN AT HIS DAUGHTER THEN GIVE HIM AN HOUR LONG ACAB LECTURE?! How did he convince him to give her the watch?? Can we please get a transcript of that conversation, I never wanted to be a fly on the wall so bad!!!

A more serious question: Gwen eludes to the “Gwen Stacey dies” canon event when talking to Miles on the clock tower. HOWEVER… Shouldn’t this particular canon event not apply to our Gwen? She says “In every other universe, Gwen Stacey falls for Spider-Man” But she is the Spider-Man of her universe! So shouldn’t she be exempt from this particular event? (Unless she falls in love with herself or something idk) Shouldn’t she be in the clear if Miles technically isn't part of her canon?? If not then why is the canon taking Miles into account??? Spider people clearly aren’t allowed to disrupt each others canon events, but at the same time they can trigger each other’s canon events?????

Relating to the last question: If Miles really is an anomaly like Miguel says, then why is the canon treating him like every other Spider-Man? Shouldn’t Miles be exempt from canon events altogether if he was never meant to be bitten? Shouldn’t his universe be collapsing because he replaced it’s original Spider-Man? He technically disrupted 42 Miles’ canon by preventing him from becoming Spider-Man in the first place, yet his universe is also still in tact. Why does Miguel insist that Miles isn’t meant to be Spider-Man, yet in the same breath, expect him to have canon events like everyone else in the spider society??? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE MIGUEL! IS HE AN ANOMALY OR NOT?!

Speaking of 42 Miles: What is his objective? What does he actually plan to do with our Miles?? He seems weirdly calm about meeting a guy who looks exactly like him and was (albeit unknowingly) trying to pass himself off as him. Does 42 Miles know about the multiverse? If so, how much does he know? Also did he just have electricity-proof gloves just lying around for an occasion like this?? Our Miles wasn't wearing gloves before he was tied up and we know they aren't part of his suit because he had to rip them to use his electricity. But why would 42 Miles and Aaron put them on him if they (supposedly) don't know about his powers??

(I swear if it just turns out to be a continuity error I'm gonna be pissed!)