#hobiesworld!

[murdrdocs]

hobie defo fucks you while on call with miguel (yk the way they can like communicate on the watch? yeah he'll just be fucking you casually while doing that. ) he probably speeds up too just to make you louder

- February 💞💞

thinkin abt how another anon suggested this scenario but hobie knows miguel has a thing for reader and .... tehe (gn!reader) miguels perspective

hobie's already a little frustrated. the last mission left him with a headache that he'd just been able to get rid of, he's been away from you for entirely too long, and there's nothing else he wants to do at this point but stuff himself balls deep into you and hear the way you moan and cry while you writhe around on the bed.

it's where he's the happiest. your legs thrown over his shoulders, one of his veiny hands digging into the pillow behind your head, the other holding onto your hip. the way you're responding to the depth that hobie's dick is reaching, it's mind numbing. it's like you're fucking singing.

hobie's lost in it. he thinks this is the best form of relaxation for him. he doesn't think anything could bother him at this point, nothing as long as you come around his cock for the third time.

until his wrist buzzes and he glances over at the watch to see fucking miguel o'hara's contact pop up. he groans, rolls his eyes, and his hips, your back arching with the movement.

"who ... who is it?" hobie grins at how speechless you are, how cockdrunk you are, but the watch is still vibrating and he's getting increasingly more and more pissed off.

hobie forces out his name, the syllables thick and filled with disgust. your pout up at hobie doesn't help much, not with the way your eyes are making hobie feel ... something. maybe guilt?

you don't want him to stop, the call ends and another begins, and suddenly hobie's remembering the way miguel looked at you the one time you two had been in the same place. he's remembering the way miguel stared at the polaroid that gwen and miles drooled over, fawning over how pretty you were.

so he's sitting back, answering the call, and speeding up just a little, just for the hell of it.

[murdrdocs]

just had this thought about using hobie's web shooters to tie his hands up, just so you can dominate him. but you're slipping into a more submissive state, whimpering as you ride him, eyes adorably pinched shut as you try to reach your peak mostly on your own.

and hobie's below you, cooing at you, eyes soft with that teasing look as he tells you to untie him. "lemme make you feel good, sweetheart. let me take care of you." his hips writhe and you smack his lower abdomen, not failing to notice how lean he is as you feel the taut muscle underneath you.

"can take care of myself," is what you're telling him, but it comes out in a mix of frustrated grumbles, the syllables all mushed between your pursed lips. hobie snickers, tone nothing but condescending and you peer down at him just in time to see his eyes rolling just before they set back onto you, heavily lidded.

you watch his lips pull into that signature smirk, lip piercing glistening in the low light and you're suddenly really wanting to feel the metal against your own lips as he kisses you. but you hold back by biting down onto your lower lip, hips still doing their –– truthfully, slightly pitiful –– work.

"yeah? you can? 's not as good as when i do it, though, is it?" and he's got you there, the point clear in your otherwise hazy mind.

so when his heels dig into the mattress beneath you, and you're thrown a little forward, you let him fuck up into you, immediately reaching to try and help him out of the binds for the extra leverage.

[murdrdocs]

thinking abt hobie trusting you to give him a piercing ... and how unnecessarily intimate it would be

you've been telling him about how you wanted to get better at piercings, a hobby of yours that could potentially turn into a job if you got the appropriate amount of practice in.

and hobie, being the good friend that he is, casually suggests being your practice dummy, leg bouncing while his eyes stay trained on the tv in front of him. your head perks up from doing the crossword in the paper (something you've picked up because there was nothing else to do), looking at his side profile to see if he was actually serious. which, it's hard to tell when hobie is joking, face always serious, his tone the same.

but he looks serious, and he hasn't retracted his statement, so it's only a couple of eager-filled hours later and you're standing between hobie's legs.

he sits on a chair, legs spread to accommodate you, restless hands laid on his thighs, his slim fingers tapping beats into the black denim that hugs his legs. he’s staring up at you, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

you, clearly nervous, glance between hobies nose and his eyes.

“babe, ‘s no need to be nervous.” and you know he’s right but you can stop shaking and you can’t get a solid grip on the needle and hobie, which is why hobie pulls you into his lap, hands resting politely on your hips.

at least, you tell yourself that’s why. you’re too nervous to ask clarification.

but at the end, when hobie has a brand new septum piercing resting prettily between his nostrils, his grip on your hips tighten and he shifts, crotch moving up to push into yours. your eyes meet his, and he looks mostly amused, especially when he grinds into you.

“gotta give you some form of payment, right?”

[murdrdocs]

thinkin bout hobie’s massive hands covered in rings and veiny and strangely always kinda cold and just how tall he is so tall that he can easily rest his chin on top of your head and how he always spreads out when he sits because his legs are just too damn long

i am obsessed w him rn he is all i think ab <3

i was gna sleep but ...

all i can think abt now is laying back, wrapping a hand around hobie's slender wrist and holding eye contact as you lead his palm up to your neck. which, he would never put his hand there on his own accord, but he would do almost anything you asked, including this.

his fingers spread out, hand starting to mirror the shape of the column your neck, but before the chilled digits find your heated skin his eyebrows raise just a bit.

"y'sure?" his voice is deep, gravely, and low in his throat as he asks you. a simple nod and a soft whisper of "m'sure" from you is all it takes for him to wrap his hand securely around your throat, thumb on your pulse point, monitoring how it increases, then mellows out.

his head tilts, his eyes scan you curiously, then his lips pull into a smile.

also ... thinking about him manspreading.

his arms always either crossed over his chest, or his hands resting on his lap, or stuffed in the pockets of his vest. and he just leans back, sitting cooly, no matter what he's doing. and he just looks so appetizing?

like you can't help but saunter over and stand between his legs until he pulls you to sit into his lap, a seat that's a little bony but so comfortable, especially when you lean back against his chest and he rests his chin on your shoulder, arms locking you in by wrapping around your waist.

[murdrdocs]

thinking abt long dick hobie and how he's such a tease when you first take all of him in you, he'd be so mean afterwards too, making fun of you for getting so easily fucked out but you can't help it ! not when he's that big :((

no this is him at his core like fem!reader

he's all sweet and reassuring during the act of course, rough hands rubbing circles on your hips, deep voice lowly cooing at you, helping you take more and more with just the encouragement.

"jus take deep breaths, yeah? with me," and he leads you in the breathing, slipping more and more of his cock into you each time because today is the day where you finally take it all, he makes sure of it.

"'s big, doll, i know. but you're a big girl. you can take it, eh? there you go, 'atta girl."

and it feels fucking heavenly. having him kiss your cervix like that has your back arching, your eyes rolling back, your toes pointing. there's so much happening, so much of hobie brown filling you up and flooding your senses. it's practically impossible to hold on, even though your nails dig into hobie's wrist and bicep, and your legs hook around his lower back for stability.

but mentally you're gone.

you only have one orgasm even though hobie wants you to take more, but you're so fucking gone that you're just blinking lazily, giggling slightly to yourself, wincing as hobie brings himself to his own orgasm, cock still abusing your walls when he pulls out and pumps himself to completion over your stomach. all the while still teasing you relentlessly.

"surprised you were even able to take it all. tight little cunt sucked me right up."

the teasing doesn't stop when you're obviously spent either. when he's running a warm cloth over your stomach, still rubbing circles into your skin with his free hand.

"fuckin' took it like a champ, but i think you could've done more. done after one? c'mon, you're better than that, babe. should've heard yourself. moaning so loud, whole block knows my name. and that cunt. squelching and screaming almost as loud as you."

[murdrdocs]

hear me out! hobie with a breeding kink with fem reader👀

oh im hearing alright

it's not that he has a pregnancy kink or anything (okay he has a slight prgnancy kink to be honest), but he just thinks you always look so good with his cum dripping out of you. cunt fluttering, pushing his cum out until his slim fingers force it back in. he loves to smudge the cum around onto your sensitive parts, and mention what would happen if your birth control didn't work, how your stomach would swell and your tits would follow.

during the act, his cock always pushes your walls to its limit, sliding in and out of your slick heat, tip dangerously close to your cervix, and it feels so fucking good that neither of you want him to pull out.

your walls are squeezing him so tight, and at first its naturally occurring, but then you've already came and you're digging your nails into hobie's biceps and you're begging and he can feel the way you're tightening around him.

"hobie, hobes, bee, please keep going." which, he already planned to, but hobie is nothing if not a tease.

"yeah? ya like that? want me to keep fucking you like this?"

a nod from you, your face scrunched in pure bliss. "don't ..." you trail off, both from embarrassment and the inability to finish your sentence with the way hobie's cock brushes that spot.

"hmm? what is it?" he kisses your cheek, coming back around to press his forehead to yours, his deep eyes staring into you.

"don't pull out, hobes, please."

he smiles wickedly, a look you love so much on him.

"didn't plan on it."

[murdrdocs]

okay but sex w hobie + eye contact = heaven. like he definitely forces you to hold eye contact with him as he's absolutely pounding into you. he will hold onto your cheeks and make you look at him and probably tease you relentlessly too .

stopped cleaning my room for this but listen

eye contact is everything to hobie, just like in general. it always makes the sex 10 times better when your eyes are locked onto each others, both of you needing to really see the other to get off.

and basically in any position there's heavy eye contact. but especially when you're riding him, your hands on his chest, you bouncing on his dick like your life depended on it. if your eyes close for even a few seconds, if your head lolls away from his viewpoint, his hand is wrapped around your chin to turn you to face him.

"eyes on me," he tells you, but you're fucked out, and close, and switching between watching hobie's cock disappear and reappear at your cunt, to closing your eyes in ecstasy. he notices where your gaze is focused, and his voice quickly takes a teasing tone. "fuckin' mesmerizing, innit? 's like she's been made for me."

and you wanna stare for a little longer but then hobie has one of his hands squishing your cheeks together while the other holds onto your hips, giving him leverage to start to fuck up into you.

"but i said eyes on me. yeah?"

[murdrdocs]

Hobie is just so tall just the thought of looking up at him all the time 🤤 Or or stroking up and down the length of his front when you’re laying in bed together or even bETTER!!! his BACK. Y’already know this man loooooves a good back scratch or back tickles and it’s just so lean and long that Ik for a fact it turns u on just to feel his soft skin on your fingertips !!

i legit think abt this all the time. more specifically this is what i think about:

the casual dominance of hobie's height. when he's standing around the house, leaning against a counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his dark eyes looking down at you. you go over to reach for a glass in the cabinet that you definitely could've gotten on your own, but hobie's already turning around and grabbing it, not without you noticing how it's practically eye height.

and when he's leaning against a doorway, watching you move about casually, speaking to you like he's not posted up like someone out of a catalog (ironic, because he's mirroring the pose he did in the one catalog he did model for).

"mhm ... yeah ... well, babe, why don't you just tell her–" and you're not listening to much else that he's saying because you're about to walk through the doorway and he's leant against it and you just know he's going to try to stop you. which, he does, hand on your hip, quick fingers slipping in the belt loop of your jeans to pull you back. leaving you to lean against the opposite side of the doorway, eyes staring up at him, heart thudding behind your chest because holy shit, he's hot.

and he absolutely loves to get his back scratched. his nails are kept short for playing guitar, but even if they weren't he would prefer for you to scratch his back anyway. and he always has an itch that "travels around" and they're in the most niche places.

"yeah just go down a bit. too far, go up a little. yeah, yeah, right there. no! to the left, down, right. there's the spot." and he's a little annoying with it, but his pleased sigh melts into a deep groan and his head head turns and he's praising you ("there you go. atta girl. no one else can do it like you") and maybe it's a little hot.

[murdrdocs]

hobie loves his little bimbo gf <3

she's in her pastel colors, usually shades of pink hugging her body in meticulously planned ways. it takes her a while to pick outfits, cycling through skirts and low rise jeans and tiny shorts until she settles on the first item she'd picked up. she always apologizes to hobie throughout her routine, "sorry"s rushed out with the nature of time on her mind as she searches for her favorite lip gloss. which hobie plucks off her vanity and hands to her.

her kisses are slick, always, and leave remnants of strawberry or cherry flavored moisture on hobie's lips. her hugs are tight, frequent, and smell sweet, a nice contrast to hobie's strong-musky scent.

she has a certain way that she speaks, a way that sometimes gets side eyes from people on the streets but those looks are averted when hobie scowls their way. because there's nothing he hates more than stereotypes.

he knows that her hyperfemininity is constantly looked down on, but he also knows that his girl is smart, and cares about the state of society around them just as much as he does. he's seen her protesting on the streets, a pretty sign held up as she shouts demands with people around her. and he's seen her stand on the frontlines to defend those around her, intricately designed nails tucked into her hand which has clenched into a fist.

he's her protector, but she doesn't really need one. she accepts it anyway, of course, sending sweet smiles and chaste kisses his way when he defends her on the tube or at pubs.

it a classic case of opposites attract. and hobie wouldn't have it any other way.

[murdrdocs]

fem!reader sitting on hobies face?

mmm hobie is a munch. if we haven't already established that, let's just get it out into the air now.

he absolutely loves going down on you, and he's a firm believer in the philosophy that his girl deserves head anytime of day, as long as she's willing (his personal philosophy but he believes it'll catch on eventually). he never expects anything in return, he never gives head with an ulterior motive. he does it because he likes to do it, and because he likes those pretty little noises you make when he uses his tongue on you (which, it's ridiculously long by the way).

with that being said, there's one slight thing he loves just a little more than going down on you, and that's when you're above him, tits on display, thighs caging his head in, and your cunt sat flat onto his tongue. like this, you can't run away or get shy like you sometimes do, especially because hobie has his hands on your thighs and lower back, strong grip keeping you in place. which, not like you can run away from him like this whenever the position just opens up so much more.

his deep brown eyes staring up at you, watching you for your tells. his fingers spread on your thighs, previously cold metal rings not warm with your heated skin, and his tongue lapping and swirling and thrusting within you to get what he wants: another release from you.

he lays there and takes it when you almost take over, pushing and pulling your hips in a grind that bumps his nose against your clit, only spurring you on to get closer and closer to your mutually shared goal.

[murdrdocs]

i’m just thinking abt hobie …

sitting on his lap, his big hands resting comfortably on your hips. he’s staring up at you, eyes a little low, maybe he’s just tired or maybe they’re tinted a little red as he’s coming down from a high. there’s a small smile on his lips as he watches your eyes run around his face.

“missed you today,” you tell him, voice low and airy like it usually gets when you want him.

his head tilts to the side a bit, he thrusts it out to try and get your gaze to meet his. it works. “yeah?”

you nod, teeth gnawing on your lower lip for a split second. “yeah.”

“what’d you do without me around here?” hes teasing now, looking for a certain answer. one you won’t give him without a little work.

“nothing. jus read a lot. did a little cleaning.”

his eyebrows furrow a bit. “really? that’s no fun.” his fingers start to play with the waistband of your shorts. “thought you said you missed me.”

“i did!” your voice goes up a little and a laugh slips through the words, one that has hobies smile growing.

“eh, i don’t think so. not from what you’re telling me.”

“well, i … you know,” his eyebrows lift to tell you to continue. “i thought about you. a lot.”

“you did?”

a nod from you and hobie figures that you’re not gonna say it yourself at this point.

“touched yourself while thinking about me?” hes so blunt with it, makes your body get hit a little but he’s not wrong. and you’re not a liar.

so you nod, trying to push away any bashfulness. “maybe. just a little.”

his hand has started to gravitate towards your inner thigh, finger tips pushing up beneath the hem of your shorts. you shift to give him more access, legs spreading further, hips pushing towards him. his head dips to the side of your neck, lips kissing their way up until he stops right below your ear lobe.

“hope you didn’t already get your fill.”

[murdrdocs]

just read all your imagines and they are so good!! just on here to req anything hobie brown related cos god that man is so fine. maybe like a one-shot where they are fwb cos hobie doest do labels but gets jealous and then asks reader to be his gf and then shows her off to everyone. just like really anything u want to write tbh ✨✨

end of line | h. brown

description. being friends with benefits with your best friend, hobie brown, is fun and all, but you start to realize that maybe firm labels suit you better than whatever this is

includes. slight smut SUGGESTIVE 16+, fem!reader referred to as “girl”, fluff, sweet!hobie, pav gwen and miles mention, rockstar!hobie

a/n: i have no words this was supposed to be uploaded like a week ago but then i went to disney so ... sorry yall. also not edited well bc ... disney. edit: title from the song by daft punk bc tron <3

word count: 1.7k+

things are still in your bedroom. they always are right before he arrives.

you're not a psychic, nor do you have a "spider-sense" (which, with the creepy-sixth sense way hobie described it, you don't want one either), but you like to think that you can tell when he'll come by.

nights when you haven't heard much from him, but the sirens seemed to never stop outside, were usually when your window would creek as it slid up.

you listen out for the sound now as you finish painting your last nail. you'd used the quick dry polish tonight, in hopes that you wouldn't have a repeat of last time, when your fingernails weren't dried but hobie was incredibly impatient and when you were done, you'd realized that your right ring and pinkie fingers were smudged.

the bottle's closed, you'd blown on your nail to ensure it dried, and that's when your window slides open.

there's no point in looking back at him when he tumbles into the room. he starts mumbling complaints as soon as the window's closed, the sound of his shoes unlacing padding his words, something about some common thief who hobie was going to let go but then he went and messed with the lady on the street and her cat.

you'd lost the tail end of his words whenever he started walking closer to you. you sat up straighter, pushed everything out of the way, and waited for him to turn your chair around.

which, when he did, you looked up at him, small smile on your lips as you stared into his deep brown eyes.

"how's your night, hm?" he asked, a courtesy before getting to the real action.

you shrugged, pretending to think. "nothing. just a lot of this."

"no smashing societal standards? picking off misogynists one by one?"

a small laugh in the form of a snort from you. "nah. figured i'd take a day off, you know?" the sarcasm dripping from your words. that's not who you were. you wish you could've been like that, could've been like hobie. but there's one spider-person for a reason.

"oh, yeah, uh-huh..." and hobie trailed off as he leaned in, pointer finger hooking under your chin to pull your lips to his.

it always felt good to kiss hobie.

you'd fantasized about it for weeks before it actually happened. he's your closest friend at the moment, and he occupied the title before this arrangement even existed. and of course you had the worry about ruining your beautiful friendship if you became more, fear that you wouldn't be able to go back and you would subsequently lose probably the best friend you've ever had.

but that was no need to worry. because while you could let hobie pull you up and lead you to your bed, sitting back and pulling you into his lap while he kissed you with a tenderness you know so well, you could also just be friends with him, sitting side by side on the couch and having a movie marathon of horrible biopics without thinking about jumping each other's bones.

there's a balance here that you could only hope would've existed.

and it's never thrown off. not even when he pulls your shirt over your head and his full lips find your nipples and the slightly-faded marks he'd left a few days ago. not even when he switches your position, laying you back and kissing down your torso until he can bury his head between your legs. not even when you whine and cry just a bit, slightly begging for him to pull his suit off so he can fuck into you in a way that only he can.

you try not to think about the equilibrium of your relationship with hobie when your legs hook around his waist and the heels of your feet dig into your lower back. you try to solely focus on the way his cock fills you up perfectly, mostly long with the right amount of girth for your walls, tip reaching deep within you in an almost mind bending way.

but you can't help but think about the way hobie doesn't do labels when he helps you to your bathroom, where he lets the shower heat up while you sit in a shirt he left behind a few days ago when he'd shown up as just hobie brown and not spiderman. you can't help but think about being hobie's girlfriend when his big, veiny hands run along your skin after the shower, smothering you in shea butter as you struggle to hold your eyes open. and you don't bother attempting to fight off the lasting thought of being hobie's while he hums an unknown song to himself with your head on his chest, the deep sound of his voice and the vibration of his chest lulling you to sleep.

you need to be someone's.

the friends with benefits scenario was fun, it worked, it was glorious, but you don't think it's for you. and labels aren't for hobie.

so, you look elsewhere.

you're at hobie's show, standing in the back of the pub with a drink you weren't interested in, with some guy you really weren't all that interested in, either. but he smelled nice, and he seemed nice, and you were just looking to broaden your horizons just a bit.

you and hobie weren't exclusive, but maybe it's a little wrong to flirt with someone else at his show. but you were slightly upset, and craving attention, so it didn't matter.

not until hobie got off stage.

it took a while for him to roam over to you, but even then you were still entertaining the other guy. giggling, tilting your head, batting your eyelashes, your hip popped out and a manicure, that was still fresh, blinging as your hand rested on the bone.

he greets you with a term of endearment that he uses often, but it feels different in this circumstance. you tell yourself that it feels different because you want it to feel different.

"oi, babe! who's this bloke?"

his arm slings over your shoulder and you tense under it. your hands folding over your chest, your smile tightening a little.

“uh this is steven.” your hand reaches out to point to the man, a tight lipped smile spreading onto his lips.

“steven …” hobie repeats the name slowly, and without looking at him you can tell that he’s eyeing the guy up and down.

the air is stiff, the three of you are silent, and unfortunately, steven takes the hint to dismiss himself, and you instantly turn to hobie, a scowl on your face.

“what the fuck, hobes?” you’re pissed, but the nickname still slips off easily.

hobie shrugs and reaches into his back pocket, a cigarette appearing and he sticks it between his lips. instantly, your fingers pluck it out from his mouth, instead putting it in your own back pocket.

instead of looking upset, hobie looks amused. his hands reach out to grab your waist, and you want to give in, but you try to push his hands away instead.

hobie lets you, and you don’t know if your happy or upset with that.

“what’d you mean?”

you stare at him, deadpan, then gesture to where steven had walked away towards.

“you just cockblocked me!”

a cocky grin, almost a little condescending. “i didn’t ‘cockblock’ you, babes. you weren’t trying to get with that guy.” your eyebrow lifts and you can see realization come onto hobie’s face. “oh … you were?”

“yes! of course i was!”

“but why? you are i are together.”

“sure, hobes, but we’re not ‘together’.”

“yes we are.”

“no, we aren’t.”

“why do you think that?”

you suddenly feel a little insecure, eyes scanning the thinning crowd, ears noticing the way the volume in the pub is lowered. “because you’ve never put a label on it, bee.”

another layer of realization. hobie’s hands coming to your waist again, but this time you let him pull you in.

“i didn’t know we needed a label. but you’re my girl. and i’m your guy.”

your body heats up and you bite down onto your lower lip giddily, peeking up at hobie through your lashes.

"thought you didn't like relationships?"

"labels. i don't like labels."

there's a disruption in the atmosphere. goosebumps raise on your skin, the hair on the back of your neck sticks up, and even if you weren't aware internally, the way the magazine you were previously reading floats above the table would've tipped you off.

the portal opens shortly after, but you knew it was coming. it took hobie a while to tell you that he was spiderman, longer to convince you that he was spiderman, and a while longer to convince you of the existence society, and even though you know, you still get a little shocked whenever a portal opens.

he comes through first, thud of his heavy boots against the floor of his flat. the spoon in your mouth clings against the side of the bowl, your free hand reaches out to the tv remote to pause the episode as you look over at hobie.

"oi, didn't know you were still here." is all he says before he's walking over, pulling his mask off on the way, and leaning down. your head tilts up instantly to meet his lips in a kiss, your body warming with the way his hand pushes into the back of the couch, slender but muscular form caging you in.

you expect him to sit beside you and force you to give a recap of the episode, but he stands back, and then three other people come through the portal.

"oh ... are we expecting guests?" surprise sits in your words, the tone amplified when hobie takes your bowl of cereal out of your hands to finish it off himself.

"right," he speaks through mouthfuls, saying your name as an introduction to the other three. "this is pav, miles, and gwendy. spider people." you nod, waving at each.

"this here, is my girlfriend." three sets of spider-eyes widen with the admission and you can already sense what's coming.

"wow, you're pretty. 's nice to meet you."

"i knew it! i could sense the tension as soon as we got here."

"you have a girlfriend? wait. i thought you didn't like labels."

a small smile on your face as you tuck your hands in the pocket of hobie’s sweatshirt that you wear.

in coordination learned from how close you two are, you speak at the same time.

"he doesn't like consistency."

"don't like consistency, mate."

[murdrdocs]

listen…fem reader asking Hobie to pierce her nipples cuz she thinks it’ll look cute, to which he agrees. but when he gets them done he’s literally so horny bc of how good they look on reader..

trust there's more coming from this universe

it's a request that stuns hobie for a second. he's halfway through a sandwich, large hands engulfing the bread between them, and when the words leave your lips he stops chewing and looks over at you. you're serious, a little nervous, hands fiddling with each other in your lap and you're blinking more than usual.

with the way he takes his time to chew and swallow, you think you've overstepped the boundaries in your relationship. which, they aren't many boundaries there. you guys are friends, but there's some heavy petting and making out that isn't typical for most friendships.

but just as you're about to tell him to forget it and go back to chewing on your straw, he swallows, and agrees.

"yeah. okay." simple, gets the point across, and it makes you beam.

but in the moment, you're even more nervous. first, because hobie's about to see your tits. but that hurdle is quick to get over, he just asks you to take your shirt off and he doesn't make a big deal of it (on the outside, at least). then, you're nervous about the pain. this is one of the more sensitive piercings, it's something hobie reminds you of as he pours a shot for both of you (commenting that alcohol makes his hands steady when you question if he should have one too).

but your nails dig into the skin on hobie's bicep, and you clench and prepare, and the pain comes and goes, masked by euphoria because you finally have the piercing you've desired most.

you're staring down at it, hobie's staring down at it, and you're both silent. until you speak up.

"what'd you think? looks okay?" it's a simple question, platonic enough. but there's implications behind it from you. yeah, sure, he's been looking at your tits for the past 15 minutes, but now you're asking for his opinion.

it's different.

he takes a second, sucking in a breath through his teeth, placing his hands on his hips, rolling his lip piercing into his mouth for a second. then, he nods.

"yeah. looks fuckin' hot."

heat floods your body. your legs spread to take up more space on the counter, hobie notices and he takes a step between them. the hand on his bicep flattens out, it runs up a bit, then back down. your head tilts, your eyes lower, your lips curl up into a small smile.

"yeah?" you ask him, body immediately arching into his when his hand comes to rest on your lower back. it's warm against your chilled skin, and you instantly melt into the familiar feeling.

all of this is familiar, but you sense that this time will be a little different.

"yeah," he echos, voice deep, head tilting opposite to yours, his deep eyes flickering from your lips to your gaze.

"wanna show me how hot?"

[murdrdocs]

pt 2 to that one hobie blurb (there's slight smut so be warned)

gwen stacy is a better house guest than you expected.

she lacks some social awareness, yeah (like the many times she'd left her dirty dishes littering around the living room instead of bringing them to the kitchen) (or those times where she did bring them to the kitchen, but she opted out of rinsing them off before placing them in the sink), but she's a teenager who's trying her best.

she's polite, she tries to stay out of your way, she puts herself last on the shower rotation which almost makes up for the sizable dent she's put in your products, but she's a kid. a sweet, good natured kid, who brought you an entire six pack of your yogurt after she found out it was yours.

but no matter how nice of a house guest gwen was, you still missed your space, and your yoga pants, and your privacy.

it's the thing you miss the most.

because anytime you think you're alone, anytime you think you finally have hobie to yourself, she's waltzing through the door already starting conversation about something she'd seen in your dimension.

like the time where you were straddling hobie on the couch, gwen's belongings gone so you thought she was too, and things were getting hot. his hands were under your shirt, gripping your tits, your hands were fumbling for the buckle on his many belts, and you were grinding into him, moans barely muffled against his lips.

but then footsteps were coming from the bathroom and the sound of a toothbrush against teeth met your ears, right before gwen's squeal did the same.

or the time where it was late at night, and you and hobie had gone to bed after making it three quarters of the way through some movie gwen brought from her dimension, and hobie had his hands pushed down your pajama pants, fingers starting to push your lips apart, but then three knocks met the door.

"hobie! your scanners going off. think it's something important."

and yeah, hobie's had to leave mid-sex before to deal with something usually kingpin related, but he always came back in due time with an apology on his lips before you were on them. that night, though, he didn't come back until the morning and it seemed like he'd forgotten about your denied orgasm.

so naturally, you're a little upset with your circumstances. moping around, excusing yourself when you three are in a room together, sleeping with your back to hobie. it's a bit childish, and you rethink your approach for a while, but it gets hobie's attention. and it gets you what you want.

alone time with hobie. time that you spend moaning and whining and whimpering as loud as you want.

and the next day when you wake up, happier than usual, a yogurt in your hand and a smile on your face, you're a little sad to see gwen packing her things up. but she smiles at you, and you smile at her, and you have her in a hug, reminding yourself that she's just a kid, as you wish her well and tell her that the door's always open.

(which, you hope she doesn't take too literally)

[murdrdocs]

Imagine being hobies gf and living with him and waking up in nothing but his shirt only to find a white girl on your couch in your clothes eating your yogurt

THIS IS RLLY GETTING ME

because you wake up with a slight pain in your lower back from hobie's sorta dingy mattress, and you're midway through stretching it out as you make your way to the kitchen, one hand rubbing the muscle as the other reaches for the yogurt you made hobie buy you last night on his way back. the fridge is open, the cold air wafting to your exposed skin, goosebumps following after onto your thighs, and your eyes squint at the empty space where you know your yogurt was last night.

you move some things around, check the counters, but it's not there. a shout of hobie's name is leaving your lips before you can stop it, but he's been asleep for long enough and waking him up for a single question wont hurt. he's a heavy sleeper, so it'll take a combination of shouts and shaking his shoulder to get his attention, which you head to the bedroom to do, but you're stopped by the figure that sits in your peripheral vision.

you jump, shoulders reaching your earlobes, breath stopping for a second, and your body turns to face the figure, seeing a blonde white girl sitting on the couch (the one you convinced hobie to like after loads of complaining about the loss of the old one), wearing your frayed sweatshirt from high school and your yoga pants, eating your yogurt.

she slides the spoon out of her mouth and waves, the silver glistening in the morning light let in by the sheer curtains. and then miraculously, hobie's awake and walking out of the bedroom, a yawn leaving his mouth and his blunt nails scratching at his back.

he looks at you, then at her, then back at you, and then he continues into the kitchen, throwing a half-assed introduction over his shoulder.

"oh yeah, babe. that's gwen. spider woman. crashing here for a bit." and before you even have time to ask a question, he's asking you one instead. one that's incredibly irrelevant.

"d'you want eggs or oats?"

[murdrdocs]

yknow what…….. you should elaborate more on after shows w/ rockstar bf hobie……

mhm ik what ur asking for ... and i will deliver fem!reader

he always comes off the stage drenched in sweat. a bright look in his eyes, prominent cheekbones glowing with happiness instead of just sweat. he chats to a few people on the way down, dapping them up as he goes, and you stand just a little bit away, rocking back and forth on your feet, playing with the rings hobie's gotten you, gnawing on your lip as he gets closer, and closer, and closer.

until sweat-slickened hands are pulling you into him by the waist, your hands finding the cotton of his muscle tee. he asks you the same question that he always does ("what'd you think?"), and you give the same answer as always ("was amazing") and then he kisses you, just like he always does.

there's some more time where he's dragged into different places, his hand in yours as you walk behind him, then his hands on your hips as he walks you in front of him. he talks to his mates, fingers tapping along the denim of your skirt, angular jaw resting on your shoulder and you can practically feel the anticipation buzzing from his body.

you finally end up outside, under a streetlight with your backs against the wall of the pub. hobie smokes a cig while he listens to you tell him about what the show looked like from your end, something he makes you do as he values your opinion (though he says it like it doesn't matter but his attentive eyes say otherwise).

the last drag is taken, you've finished your spiel, hobie stomps the butt out into the asphalt with his boots, and then his hands are pulling you into him, slender fingers hooking into your belt loops to encourage the movement.

your hands collide with his chest, he stares down at you, dark eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips, and then his lips are on yours.

it's usually like this, intensely making out just steps away from where he'd performed, a few feet away from where he'd laid almost all of his heart and soul out, always leaving just enough left to give to you.

your back ends up against the wall and hobie crowds your space. he tastes like cigarettes, and a little like beer, with a tinge of the gum you'd given him when he'd asked for it a few minutes ago. he smells like you, and like him, a mixture that works more than it should.

his hands are warm and rough when they meet your thighs, thumbs on the innermost parts of your skin. they dig into the flesh in a silent command to spread your legs more, one you easily obey. it gives access for hobie's deft fingers to push your panties aside.

he takes a step closer, his head dips down, he pecks your cheek. "d'you want me to stop?" it's always the same question, formatted slightly different each time.

and each time, you shake your head.

there are some nights where you just talk, his arm slung around your waist, your head rested somewhere on his chest or shoulders, a cigarette either between his lips or fingers as he tells you stories that he somehow hasn't told you before. those nights end with you back at either of your places, in a position similar to this one.

but there are other nights, most nights if you're honest, where hobie looked so good on stage from your perspective, and he had adrenaline pumping through his veins that couldn't be quelled with spiderman duties, and neither of you could wait to get home so the side of a pub was the next best place.

his fingers work you in ways that only he can do, and as you start to unravel from his ministrations, you don't have any worries about being seen because you know that in the off chance that would happen, hobie would handle it. he always does.