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Part Two of Lover!Hobie Headcanons!

-Hobie is not a man of particular tastes. He is content to follow your lead or do as he pleases to you, with consent.

-One of Hobie's favorite places is in between your legs, with your hand gripped into his wicks. He can't resist chuckling into your dripping folds as your hips grind against his face, your hand tugging him to where you want him for that delicious friction.

-He is a cuddler. Wherever you are, he naturally drifts to you and begins to spoon behind you, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist while you watch TV at his place. More often than not, these impromptu cuddling sessions end up with your panties pulled to the side, and his boxers shuffled down just enough for him to rub his cock up and down your slit. "What do y'say, baby, can I fuck you?" He would whisper, kissing the back of your neck fervently. The minute you nod, one hand hooks around your inner thigh and lifting it to slide himself deep with one thrust.

-Miles is awkward but he tries his best. He doesn't want to overwhelm you and takes things at a slow pace. He will be the one to slowly initiate small touches and contact, his hand lightly brushing over your own as you walk together or a extremely light feather kiss to the top of your head when you get walked home by him. He's patient, if not a bit shy himself.

-Gwen is an overthinker. She thinks too much about holding your hand too long, if maybe offering to watch an movie with you and cuddle is too soon for the relationship so she requires some reassurance now and then. She wants to show you she cares but she's unsure how without flustering the both of you in a way that doesn't seem like teasing. For now, hand holding and light kisses on the cheek will have to do. Not that she minds.

-Hobie. This guy is so confident in himself it's nearly painful. He loves to fluster you by leaning down beside you when you don't notice him, and whispering into your ear and calling you a sweet pet name or pulling you closer when you're sat beside him in a distance he deems that you're too far away from him. He wouldn't take getting an reaction out of you too far but, he does love to test what might make you tick at him. But let's be honest, he would love to piss you off and see you take the reigns.

-Pav is an awkward mix of confident and overly worried. It's funny how he tries to lean his arm over your shoulder all nonchalant while you coincidentally watch an romance movie on the television but he would whisper into your ear "Is this okay?" "It's not too much right?" "Okay, just let me know if you want me to move my arm." "...you're sure you're comfortable with this?" He likes to check that he isn't making you uncomfortable. Making a bit too much but that doesn't hurt right?

-Hobie I feel would already know sign language, sometimes just finger spelling to keep his skills up to par. So when he meets his future mute S/O, he sighs much more around then, just to get them comfortable and not so subtly let them know he signs. He thinks he's so smooth until he accidentally one day trips his future s/o, he panics and forgets all signs and feels horrible but his future partners shoulders would just bounce up and down with an smile, their version of laughing. Yeah. He's smitten from that moment on.

-Once him and his S/O start dating, he's incredibly attentive from the start. He knows that his partner can take care of themselves but that won't stop him from telling the person who made your burger that you asked for no pickles, hand on his hip expectantly. (Not rudely ofc but, he would let his displeasure be known)

-He definitely carries a penny in his pockets just so he can use, "Penny for your thoughts?"

-Has the randomest shit in his pockets. Crumbled pieces of paper? Check. An half eaten bag of chips he was saving for later? Yep. Turning those tiny crumbled pieces of paper into balls to toss at Miguel when he isn't looking? You betcha.

-Snacks non stop yet gains nothing. He would be wandering around HQ bored as hell and eating his chips in one sitting, then eat a burger, then drink an soda in like ten minutes and still be hungry. He would stare into your soul while refilling his soda in a water cup down at the spider cafeteria.

-Hobie just has the warmest hands. He's a heater, so he gets warm very easily so him wearing crop tops and tanks should be expected frequently, I see this man just chilling in his boxers briefs at his place, absolutely miserable in the heat and only giving one word hums or grunts in response to anything he's asked.

-He has stabbed himself with his pins on more than one occasion. He switches out his pins depending on the day, but he has some sentimental ones that he refuses to take off. "Ova' my dead body, more like."

⚠️ TW ⚠️ : Mentions of piercings, needle and decent in depth process of tongue piercing.

Duck- Affectionate British slang term of affection for another person.

Word Count:2,066

"This would go so much smoother if you stayed still, y'know."

You give an incoherent response as you glare at Hobie through the iridescent light of his bathroom, not that he wouldn't be able to tell the mild impatience in your tone regardless of how unintelligible. Your tongue is pinched carefully between Hobies index and thumb finger, his eyes flickering from yours and back to the extended pink muscle.

Being around Hobie must be an greater influence than what you had expected, as you mentioned thinking about getting an piercing in casual conversation with him while lazing about one slow afternoon at his swaying canal boat home, Hobie had practically perked up like an shark smelling blood in the water at the idea.

How you had convinced Hobie to pierce your tongue in his bathroom of all places though in your eagerness, you aren't too sure but you're certainly not complaining while you sit on the edge of his bathroom counter, Hobie situated between your spread legs to get to properly get a grip on your tongue, seeing if you have the proper anatomy for said piercing.

Hobie hums, tugging just a bit on your tongue between his fingers, testing the elasticity of it ignoring when you grumble at him. "Well, you certainly have the anatomy for it." He says, releasing his pinched fingers from your tongue. You bring your tongue back in your mouth, running it along the roof of your mouth to get rid of that odd dry feeling of it being exposed to air for longer than usual.

"Is that a yes, then?" You ask, barely able to contain your excitement at Hobie nod. He leans to the side, one of his hands lightly drums onto your thigh into an practiced rhythm while the other pulls up the tray of sterilized tools he had prepared on the counter for after his inspection of your tongue. Although you're sure he's had it down his throat enough times to know you had the proper anatomy the entire time, but you don't say complain.

"And you're positive you want this, duck?" He says, quirking up one pierced eyebrow at you still drumming his fingers against your thigh, leaning back to fully gauge your reaction. The familiar nickname rolling off of his tongue, you never really did ask why he had started to call you that but it feels too late to ask about it now. You just glare at him and nod, even sticking out your tongue to further solidify your stubborn answer, you feel if you prolong this you might go back on this whole idea. Hobie huffs out an small chuckle as he shakes his head amused by your antics, "Alright, if you're sure.." he murmurs fingers finally resting against your thigh.

He grabs at an thin black marker from his pocket, gently gripping your tongue between his index and thumb finger again his eyes narrowed in focus as he dots right in the middle of your offered tongue. It surprisingly doesn't have an gross taste you note, just a tad bitter. Hobie leans back and releases his hold on your tongue, shuffling to open a drawer beside your calf digging around until grasping at an hand held mirror and holds it up for you to see the dot marked on the pink muscle. "Right 'bout there?" He asks.

You look into the mirror already trusting Hobies judgement and precision, nodding in satisfaction as you deem the placement of the dot acceptable. Hobie nods back, although it's more of an subconscious movement of your own agreement. He places the handheld mirror down beside you on the counter, his warm hand drifting from your thigh to open the sterilized packed needle on the metal tray on your opposite side. He opens the package with quick fingers, likely from practice of piercing his friends over the years and stitching. You feel a hint of nerves buzzing in the pit of your belly, but you trust Hobie explicitly to not screw this up...mostly. But if things were to go wrong, you would have solid blackmail for at least an year you think on the bright side.

Hobie then grabs at an pair of silver long forceps laid on the silver tray next to you, adjusting his hold on them, moving towards your tongue, clamping down on it with an steady grip as he lines up the dot on your tongue with the hole in the forceps. It doesn't feel too uncomfortable just a bit firmer pressure than Hobies fingers, your eyes trailing Hobies fingers as they move deftly into the open package of the piercing needle and picking it up between two fingers.

"Right, on three.." he murmurs, his eyes meeting yours for a moment of mutual understanding, your hands move to grip at the hem of Hobies shirt in preparation for what is more likely going to hurt like an bitch. You close your eyes as Hobie begins to count down, you feel him move just a bit closer his thigh nudging your legs apart just enough to slide a bit further in between them, easily closing most of the space between you. It would be tender how he molds himself to you if it weren't for the giant needle hovering so close to you.

"One...two...three-!" He cuts himself off just as he pushes the needle in through your tongue. Your grip on Hobies shirt tightens instantly as the needle strikes all the way in. You feel saliva build up in your mouth from the sudden sharp pinch, your nose scrunching up as you breathe through the discomfort as you try to keep your tongue still regardless of the forceps doing that perfectly for you.

"There you go, duck...jus' breathe, in and out through your nose." Hobie murmurs soft reassurances as he puts the forceps aside while keeping the needle steady through your tongue while his other hand grabs at the jewelery placed on the side that he had shown you for your possible options of tongue piercings he had kept around in a tiny mint container assuring you they were all sterilized and clean although you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes as he said it was for in his words 'Mo-mintos' .

You had opted for an an small silver one, it's regular in size and shape but he had said it would look perfect with a sly wink, almost as if knowing something you don't. The last thing Hobie had wanted to do was overwhelm you with a larger piercing you assume.

He slides the jewelery in with ease as he pushes the needle out completely, tossing away the needle efficiently to the trash can in the opposite side of the room before working on screwing in the balls of the silver piercing on each end with quick fingers, unbothered when a bit of saliva and blood runs down over his fingers. You finally peek your eyes open squinting at Hobie through the tears.

Hobie looks up from your now fully pierced tongue, his pupils are a black hole surrounded by his beautifully colored iris as he looks into your eyes. He hums lowly in appreciation, his right hand coming up to wipe away at the saliva and blood dribbling down your chin. "How're you feelin'?" he asks, always attentive. If you weren't so focused on how close he is you can hear the undertone of pride as he speaks.

You slowly bring your tongue back into your mouth, feeling the cold metal of the piercing quickly adjust to the warm temperature of your mouth. The taste of your blood in your mouth isn't unbearable, but the amount of saliva gathering in your mouth is a mild inconvenience as you begin to talk. "I feel fine but it feels weird.." you acknowledge, testingly running it along the roof of your mouth before Hobie can warn you.

You wince immediately feeling as if your tongue were struck by lightning, and Hobie clicks his tongue but his eyes show only concern if not a hint of amusement too. His hands land on your thighs squeezing through the denim of your jeans to try to ground you against the pain buzzing through you. "Ya can't just do that. It's gotta heal." He scolds you giving you an raised eyebrows look, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. But still.

You nod as your eyebrows remain scrunched together, mostly focusing on trying to will the pain away, but ever greatful for Hobies quick thinking of using his hands to squeeze and rub up and down your thighs, the warmth of his large palms through your jeans is hard not to notice. His lovely, talented palms. Good God, now you're blushing. As if the pain wasn't enough to make you want to jump off of a cliff.

If Hobie didn't notice the heat rising to your cheeks he most certainly is almost able to feel it by how close he is. You speak after the pain finally dims, just slightly. "I was curious." Is all you state, beginning to feel your tongue swell around the base of where the piercing is nestled. Hobie snorts, his head rolls down to your shoulder momentarily, resting there as he stills his comforting motions on your thighs. You barely stop the whine coming from your throat as Hobie pulls his hands away, only to stop once they land on your cheeks and he looks back up, meeting your burning gaze.

"You're an dunce. Open up f'me."

You don't even bother to validate that with an verbal response, guessing he wants to see the piercing once more. You oblige and open your mouth, sticking your tongue back out, the shiny metal damp with saliva and hints of blood. Hobie seems to drink the sight in eagerly, his eyes glued to the metal jewelry he had placed there.

"Knew it would look killer, had a bunch'a fun memories with this one.." he murmurs, thumbs rubbing subconsciously at the skin of your cheeks. Memories? Your eyes widen comically, and Hobie chuckles, his eyes unsticking from the piercing to your own wide eyes. "Oh? I didn't mention that this was my starter?" He states noncommittally, as if it were the most causal thing ever. You had known Hobie had his tongue pierced, it was common knowledge, like when he stuck out his tongue in sassy retort during fond arguments, when he made up for those exact arguments..

But this was unexpected on an entire new level. You had his first ever tongue piercing jewelery in your mouth, likely from years ago. You can hardly contain your hands from gripping Hobies shirt tighter, butterflies rushing to life in your belly at the thrilling revelation. Hobie can't help but smile wider at your clearly affected reaction, keeping his hands on your cheeks. "If I didn't know any better, you like that idea.. don't you, duck?" He coos with just the right amount of condescension. His hands going to rest from your cheeks to beside your legs on the counter you're sitting on, eyes half lidded as he memorizes your no doubt flustered face, cheeks aflame and still dumbly sticking out your tongue for him to admire.

You nod, still at a loss for words but bring your tongue back into your mouth, the pain is a dull after thought by the way Hobie is looking at you as if you had given him an perfectly wrapped present has you trying to lean closer to connect your lips to his but he quickly evades it by moving his head beside your ear, clicking his tongue again in disapproval.

"Uh-uh, no kissing for three weeks till it heals." He reminds you so quietly into your ear and you feel blood rushing into your hear at his voice so close, so sweetly, but you sink back in disappointment at the mention, new piercing means no kissing after all.

A simple bet is how your night started.

A simple, yet incredibly irritating bet. Hobie's best mate, Jensen, had opened his fat mouth, likely running on more than enough liquid courage then the amount both Hobie and you had drank in the few hours you've been at the bar.

"I'd bet that you two love birds can't manage to not touch each other by midnight." Jensen bets, his open beer nearly sloushes over the table as he gestures to Hobie's arm drapped over your shoulder, you roll your eyes but you can just feel Hobie's gears moving in his head at the taunt from Jensen.

"Oh? And what are you betting?" Hobie hums, eyeing Jensen over the rim of his own drink, quirking an intrigued eyebrow at his best friend, rubbing his hand up and down soothingly where it rests on your upper arm. Jensen shrugs, before his eyes brighten, likely with an not so good idea you presume. "How about this, you guys don't touch each other until midnight and I'll shut up whenever you tell me to, and I'll even throw in a six pack." He throws in, and you see Hobie look down at you in silent question 'what do you say?' Hobies eyes communicate.

It isn't necessary an...awful idea as you expected it to be, so you nod in agreement. "Deal." You say, taking an swig of your own drink as Hobie retracts his arm from your shoulders with one last lingering touch before placing it on the table as Jensen smiles cheekily.

How hard could it be, right?

Apparently it's about as hard as walking an straight line when you're pissed drunk.

You stew in your irritation, occupying yourself at peeling away the already ripped leather of the booth seat you're sitting on, flickering your gaze to watch Jensen and Hobie playing pool across the room. You think you're the only one suffering from the no touching bet, until you notice the small longing glances Hobie sends you way whenever Jensen turns to line up his pool cue, his eyes lingering on your form as his lips frown in an sympathetic gesture.

You sigh quietly, stopping your picking distraction of the poor leather seat to take another swig of your drink, nearly choking when you hear an familiar voice call out to you, "Hey! I didn't know you came here. What a coincidence." The voice laughs and you turn in your seat, eyes widening in confirmation. It's Jeremiah, your most recent ex. Walking right up to your table.

You clear your throat as you muster an tight fake smile, absolutely caught off guard from seeing Jeremiah after months of not running into him, debating if it were truly an coincidence.

"Jeremiah! What a...pleasure, I didn't expect to see you here either." You laugh, although it's tinged with nervousness as you push down the disbelief you're feeling. You glance over at Hobie, expecting him to be unbothered playing with Jensen still, freezing up slightly when you're met with Hobie's unimpressed pointed look at Jeremiah, looking him up and down, before his gaze meets yours, with an much softer look although it's still cautious.

You nod, reassuring Hobie from across the room that you've got this. Hobies shoulders lose a bit of their tension, his grip on his own pool cue loosening as he nods back, giving his own reassuring small smile before turning his back to return to playing with Jensen. Hobie knows you can fight your own battles although that doesn't stop him from glancing at you out of the corner of his eye every now and then.

Jeremiah settles himself across the booth from you, his eyes taking you in as If it's the last time he would ever see you. "Well, you certainly have changed, haven't you?" He hums, leaning his hand on the table top. You give an small shrug, "Yeah, that's kinda what happens when you don't see each other for months." You murmur, looking at Jeremiah with unimpressed eyes. Your split with him wasn't necessarily messy or emotional, he just claimed to have lost feelings and you both parted your own ways.

Jeremiah chuckles a hint bashfully, "I suppose you have a good point." He smiles slightly, his eyes drifting down to where your hand rests on the tabletop, his hand beginning to move not so subtly towards yours.

"I was thinking we could-" Jeremiah is cut off by an quick flash of color, an arm placed right between Jeremiah's hand trying to meet yours, slamming against the table "So sorry." Hobie's unapologetic voice says, his hand pulling back with one of his many rings in the palm. "Forgot my ring." He smiles unrepentantly although the smile doesn't reach his eyes as he places the ring back on his index finger. You're sure there weren't any of his rings on the table when he left..

"Oh dear, don't tell me I'm interrupting." Hobie says as he slides into the booth seat beside you, his tone filled with sarcasm, he seemed hell bent on letting this poser on knowing he wasn't welcomed as he glares expectantly at the man across from him.

Jeremiah practically flinches back in his seat, his hands moving up in an placating defensive motion. "I didn't know she was with someone, I'm so sorry mate." He apologizes, and you can practically feel how wound tight Hobie is as his leg bounces slightly beneath the table with adrenaline.

"Sorry? Nah, nah, you're not sorry but if you're not out of this booth by the time my girl blinks, you will be." Hobie's voice drops into an unfriendly blunt tone, Jeremiah staggers to his feet, taking no chances, you're half tempted to blink just to see what Hobie had planned for him.

Hobie lets out an chuckle, watching Jeremiah retreat to the other side of the bar with such quick feet you'd think his feet were on fire. Hobie leans back in his seat beside you, his arm twitching as he begins to drape it over your shoulder, just barely remembering the bet as his arm hovers, adjusting it to lay over the back of the booth with an irritated huff. "This bet is going to be the proper death of me." He murmurs beside you, and you sigh, nodding in agreement, resisting the urge to cuddle up against him as you normally do whenever in reaching distance of him.

"How much longer do we have?" You ask, bringing your drink back to your lips to take the last swallow of the refreshing liquid. Hobie leans his head back, squinting his eyes as he reads the clock hanging above the entrance of the bar. "Thirty more minutes." He groans softly, you groan along with him at the news. "This sucks." You murmur, rubbing your hands over your face.

Hobie hums in agreement, his eyes drifting over to where Jeremiah is ordering an drink at the bar. "Especially with that bloody poser.." he rolls his eyes, his fingers twitching momentarily as he moves to brush an lock of hair out of your face before pulling back with barely restrained frustration, it doesn't help when Jensen comes by with a tray full of drinks, sitting down across the booth.

"I got the drinks!" He says with such drunken cheerfulness it makes your teeth grit not to mention Jensen being both Hobie and yours reason for being irritated, "Oh, fuck off Jensen." You and Hobie say in unison. Jensen just sighs, used to this treatment, "Why does everyone hate the guy who brings the drinks?" He murmurs.

Thankfully about twenty five minutes goes by swiftly, partly due to the nice liquid distractions in front of you. Hobie seems to still be tense, gripping his drink tightly as he drinks at it, his attention seeming elsewhere while his foot taps against the ground beneath the table, you're more interested in listening to Jensen yap on about his girl troubles, using that as another welcome distraction than losing the bet and accidentally touching Hobie out of pure instinct, although your distraction excuses himself to the restroom leaving you wanting for more juicy girl drama.

The clock on the wall begins to ding, indicating it's midnight, you don't even have an moment to think before you're hoisted from your seat beside Hobie and into his lap and spun around to face him as something hard presses into your inner thigh. "Alright, if any of you don't want a show, get out!" Hobie announces to the bar, before his head ducks into the crook of your neck, pressing hot open mouthed kisses and nips to the sensitive flesh there, your protests getting caught in your throat.

There aren't many patrons in the bar, thankfully, but the ones that are there begin to already shuffle out, even the bartender decides to fuck off, merely telling Hobie to lock the door behind him once we're done. Jeremiah is seen gawking at the bar, rooted in place. Hobie turns his head to face him still nuzzles into your neck, sneering slightly. "You had your chance, mate. She's all mine now." And to prove his point Hobies large hand comes down to your ass, squeezing and fondling you through the fabric of your jeans, making you squeal slightly as he rocks you against his erection in his jeans, the friction hitting against your clit just right.

"Be a good lap dog n' scram." Hobie huffs, one of his hands moving to shuffle your shift up, pushing past your bra to suckle at one perky nipple, you can't help but melt into his touch after so long of being restricted from him, wrapping one of your hands into his wicks to push him further into your chest in encouragement, you don't even notice Jeremiah rushing out with an small barely noticable limp, he's going to be nursing his own excitement all by himself it seems.

Hobie continues to lavish that one nipple before pulling back to give an similar treatment to the other, swirling his talented tongue around the sensitive nub. You whine impatiently, grinding your core against his erection through his pants, he grunts at the friction, moving back to look at you with blown pupils, his hips rising upwards to meet your needy movements.

"Tell me who you belong to, lovey." he huffs, his head burrowing back into your neck, biting and suckling purpling love marks. Your back arches as he finds your sensitive spot on your neck with familiar expertise, "Mmfh- I'm all yours, only yours." You reassure him softly, your hand still gripping gently into his wicks.

Hobie groans against your neck before he pulls back, "That'll do it." He nods, lifting you out of his lap to stand before quickly hopping out of his seat, unbuttoning and pushing past the confines of his pants while you do the same, once both barriers are out of the way, he gently but firmly bends you over the tabletop, giving your ass an quick appreciative smack, rubbing it when you turn your head to glare at him half heartily. "You missed my touch didn't you, sweetheart?" He hums, nudging his length to your wet entrance, coating the tip of his dick in your arousal, even in his own need he never fails to tease you at least once. You nod with an whine, trying to roll your hips back onto him, even widening your legs to further entice. "Of course I did! Please just fuck me." You huff with an hint of desperation, trying to look back and see if Hobie at least looks like he'll be merciful and fuck you properly.

Hobie chuckles, one hand moving to wrap gently around your throat as he leans over your back, "So impatient, be a good girl n' take it." He murmurs against the shell of your ear you don't have a moment to call him a hypocrite before his hips move forward, his cock sliding in with barely any resistance from your wet walls welcoming him inside, the both of your groan in bliss as the wonderful feeling of being connected.

"That's it baby, so good f'me." Hobie groans, beginning to thrust into you, pulling almost all the way back until sinking back in with deep strokes, finding an rhythm quickly, you can't help but whimper beneath him, your hands in front of your to steady yourself from his deep thrusts. His grip on your throat remain gentle and sweet, his thumb stroking softly at the marked flesh of your neck.

"O-only for ah~ you." You choke out, barely heard over the sound of wet skin on skin, and Hobies heavy breaths and groans. His dick twitches inside of you, his head goes into the back of your neck as his thrusts falter for just a moment. "G-goddamn.." he curses, "Sweetheart, if you keep saying stuff like that I won't last fer' much longer..." He pants against your neck, the hand not on your throat holds your hip steady, as he pounds into you.

Your walls flutter around him, as the coil in your belly tightens in arousal as his words hit a certain chord in you. You practically purr as your hands turn white on the grip on the edge of the table, you know it isn't a good idea but fuck it, you're already here. "Not gonna fuck, a-ah~ me proper?" You tease through your moans, and that seems to be Hobies final straw, he growls before the hand on your hip drifts to your inner thigh, lifting it up before he thrusts up into you, way deeper because of the new position. "This 'proper' enough for you?" He huffs into your ear his accent thickening, not waiting for a response as he thrusts up into you like his life depended on it, his hand moving further, moving your thigh onto his forearm while he begins to apply just the amount of pressure to your clit the way you like it.

You yelp, your hips bucking at the sudden stimulation and your orgasm practically crashes down on you, Hobies name getting caught in your throat. Hobie hisses at your walls clamping down on him, his own orgasm ripping through him as hot thick ropes of cum flood your velvet walls, you both cry out together as you share your climaxes, Hobie softly fucks you through it, prolonging your pleasure, murmuring soft praises into your ear and for a moment, you're both panting and basking in the afterglow until an door is heard creaking open.

"Hey, where did everyone go?" Jensens clueless voice chimes, Hobie and you look over just in time to see Jensen return to the main area of the bar, his eyes widening comically at the sight of Hobie leaning over you and his hand still gripping your inner thigh, your lower half practically on display.

"Hot damn.."

Pulling him towards you, he's tall and he knows it, so when he gets pulled down to your height for a moment his mind genuinely goes blank, but if you pull him in by his choker? Have fun pulling him off of you.

Wearing an article of his clothing, he can't help but admire your figure, the curves and dips of how you make his shirt or jacket look. He also can't help but scoot closer, his hands drifting beneath the fabric as he stands behind you, his hands trailing higher and higher..."You look delectable, babe, mind if I have a taste?" He would ask, but he's already spinning you around and on his knees, spreading your legs.

Begging. Hobie loves to hear you beg, it doesn't matter if it already started in bed or if you're asking him sweetly to get you the cookies from utop an high shelf in the pantry, he's teasing you. "Say it again, and I might.." he would say with an small cheeky grin.

Hobie Brown as an lover would be an whirlwind, there's no denying it.

He could go from passionate and rough to slow and sensual the next moment. "Come on darlin' a little bit more, mmfh- good girl~" to "You like it rough, oh yes you do, such a good little slut f'me, aren't you?"

He is devoted to your pleasure, ensuring that no matter where or what is happening that you feel the best you can be. "You feeling good, sweetheart?...good, good."

This man lives for quickies, the thrill, the adrenaline rush from possibly being caught is just too good a temptation for him to resist. He would pull you into the back stage room of his band's hangout, and settles you on top of one of the folding tables they have lying about, and absolutely pounds you. If you complain about possibly breaking the table mid passionate moment, he would huff an laugh, "I'll buy the bloody thing if it breaks, who gives a shit?" He would shut you up with kisses the next moment, maybe even thrusting into you a bit faster to make your mouth a bit occupied with moaning his name.

He eats pussy like no ones business, he has had previous partners and he has learned plenty. He would first learn your preferences, what you prefer and what you love. He would let your hand reach down and grip onto his wicks, and he absolutely loves it when you get lost in the pleasure he's giving you and pulls on his wicks. "Ooh! Tug a bit harder, love.." he would encourage huskily against your wet folds, flicking his tongue just a bit faster to make your legs tremble under his enamored gaze, his hands firmly keeping your hips in place, often rubbing reassuring small circles into the flesh.

Hobie has an high sex drive, often times it will result in morning sex more often than not, he would roll over and tug you gently into his arms, pressing his hard length in his boxers against your thigh or against your backside, grinding slightly. His hands would trail up and down your sides as he whispers sweet nothing's into your ear. "Please, baby? I'll make you feel so good, promise..." He would whisper, and within the next moment he's in between your legs, rolling his length into you almost lazily. "Such a greedy cunt, hm?" He would tease softly, nuzzling his nose into your neck as he fucks you slow.

Love bites, he absolutely loves them. Loves to receive them and give them, if you bruise easily he would be tickled pink at the sight of your neck obliterated with bites and hickeys, if you would get a bit angry at him he would come up behind you in the mirror as you think about how to cover them up, Hobie would lean his head down on your shoulder, his eyes focused on the marks in the mirror on your neck, practically oozing pride and affection. "Hmm...s'not that bad, you wanna make me match?" He would cackle and dodge from your swatting hands.

of course!

Hobie Brown as an Older Brother headcanon!

-He is very affectionate, but in an almost annoying way, his love languages are acts of service and touch, for sure so you can expect to get squeezed into an hug whenever you're in reaching distance, but, if you're too tired, he might just help you into bed and untie your shoes for you. (Because he's a sweetie pie-)

-noggies, all day, everday. It doesn't matter if you just woke up, or if you're getting ready for the day, you're getting put into an headlock and noggied. "What? Am I not allowed to show my lil bro/sis that they're loved?" He would say, with an dopey grin on his face as he releases you.

-He knows his sibling very well, if you came home a bit upset that the test you studied for a week for came back as 'F' or something, Hobie, already knowing he looked over your work and knows that the grade is absolutely false and that you deserve a better mark, he would tug you along to the teachers house in the dead of night, to toilet paper and egg the hell out of their house as well as sending an personal note to the teacher to kindly recheck your work. Safe to say, your grade was fixed the next day.

-If you're shorter than him, he is always using you to lean on, not necessarily putting all of his body weight on you but definitely letting you know that he's beside you or using you as an armrest, he often comes up behind you and just places his head up on your own, looking down at what you're doing with mild interest.

-I feel like if it was just you and Hobie growing up, he used to do your hair all the time while growing up, so, if he sees someone else try to do your hair he's glowering at them and their work. "You're not doin' it right, move." He would huff, before coming behind you and undoing the person's braids/hair ties/ twists/etc in your hair and do the style you asked for much more efficiently himself, having done your hair many times when you were smaller. "See? I didn't forget how you like your hair." He would tease.

Right now, in the corner of your mind, you can hear your parents nostalgic and irritable words of wisdom. 'dont take things for granted' or 'eat your vegetables' and all that nonsense. But, mostly the 'dont take things for granted' part is echoing in your skull as you lay strewn about on the couch of your apartment, absolutely miserable in the sweltering heat.

Of all the days, your air conditioning had went out during Camden's annual heatwave, just your luck right? What makes it better is that your apartment is under going some construction in the lower levels, so the water has been turned off for the rest of the evening, so, no cold shower for you either! How....wonderful.

You groan, debating on moving to get up to see if there's any cooler room to be in instead of laying about on the couch, sweat beading off your skin each time you move too much. You decide to stay there for a moment longer in some desperate hope it will just get colder rather than having to actually make the effort to get up and move. You don't even lift your head when your window leading to your fire escape opens with an small 'click!', already knowing it's your best friend, Hobie Brown.

"Whew, not any better here is it, luv?" Hobie's voice is heard, and you finally lift your head to glare at Hobie for his obvious answer. "No, it's not." You murmur, slightly annoyed that your misery has company but also a bit relieved that you have someone to complain about the heat to.

Hobie hums in acknowledgement, not bothered by the irritated response you gave him. He closes the window back down with an small shove of his hand before crossing the living room, tapping your legs in silent request to move, and you oblige lifting your legs up, although when he plops down beside you on the couch, you just place your feet right onto his lap and he rolls his eyes briefly but makes no effort to shove you off, opting to slide his mask off and shove it into his pocket.

"Why don't you jus take a cold shower?" He asks, looking at you with an glint of amusement in his eyes, and the glare you give him only makes him snicker, "They shut off the buildings water, they're doing repairs or something so I can't shower, even if I wanted to." You huff, Hobie nods, clicking his tongue. "That does indeed cause a problem.."

There's an pause after you grumble in agreement, Hobie has an slightly thoughtful expression on his face, before patting your legs and you lift them instinctively at his silent request, he stands and shrugs. "Why don't you jus' come to my place, n cool down a bit?" He offers, and you can't help but perk up at that, sitting up. "Seriously? That would be awesome." You smile, Hobie smiles back at you as he nods, "Yeah, course."

You're already on your feet to dress properly, and by properly something that isn't an pair of sleep shorts and a tank top. You rush into your bedroom, changing into something more suitable before walking out to see Hobie, knelt down and inspecting your broken conditioning with an focused glare. He looks at you and gestures to the air conditioning with an baffled look on his face. "What did you do to the poor thing?" He laughs in slight disbelief, standing up.

You shrug, "It just went out on me, what do you mean what did I do to it?" You scoff, eyebrows furrowing as you look at him in equal bafflement. Hobie gives you an even further confused look but shakes his head with an smile, "Just forget I said anythin', you ready to go?" He asks, already walking over towards the window he had entered through, opening it, then pulling his mask from his pocket and over his face.

You nod, following him through the window and stand on the fire escape, wiping your forehead as the heat blasts you further with being outside. Hobie then kneels down, facing away from you. "Your chariot, m'lady." He teases, and you roll your eyes playfully. "You have too many miles on you to be considered a chariot, Hobie." You laugh at your own joke and Hobie scoffs playfully back as you settle yourself on his back piggy back style, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

"How dare you say something so accurate.." he laughs, one of his hands coming to grip onto your calf as you tighten your grip around his shoulders in preparation for what comes next, as well as fighting off the small flare of butterflies you feel in the pit of your stomach. "Hold tight!" Hobie shouts before jumping off of the fire escape, slinging out his webs to begin the short trek to his place on the other side of town.

It's hard to stifle the squeal that comes from your throat as you feel the wind rush past your hair and battering slightly against your face. Hobie chuckles, squeezing your calf in reassurance although there's a hint of genuine concern in the action. "Doin' alright back there, luv?" He calls out loudly to be heard over the rushing wind, you manage to wheeze out an quick, "Never better!" Moving your head to burrow slightly into the back of his neck, hoping to god he doesn't feel the heat of your blush on your cheeks. Hobie snorts at your reply, "We'll be there before you know it, promise." His slightly teasing tone turns to one of tender promise, and your cheeks practically grow hotter from his words, nodding and focusing on trying to get the blush under wraps.

It doesn't take long to get to Hobies place across town, it's a simple house boat but Hobie says any other place would just be wrong to live in as he's been there so long. Hobie swings one final web out, landing right before the door of the house boat. Hobie kneels down and releases his light grip on your leg and you carefully hop down. Hobie stands, brushing himself off before pushing the door open.

"You really should start locking your door." You huff as you walk in behind him, already feeling the cool air and atmosphere of the houseboat refreshing your attitude and body. Hobie merely shrugs, "Yeah, probably." He murmurs in nonchalance at your advice, walking further inside the houseboat and right up to his hammock bed that he swears is the most comfortable for his back, before practically falling down onto it, stretching like a cat that just woke up from an really good nap. You walk over to the couch you always sit at when you come to his house, peeling at the clearly overloved fabric of the couch out of habit. You sigh, leaning your head back as you relax, just basking in the feeling of being cold after so many hours of being stuck hot and miserable in your apartment, closing your eyes in contentment.

"You look quite cozy over there." Hobie is heard saying from his hammock bed across the room and you nod, shuffling to allow your hands behind your head. "Yeah, I am-" you stop speaking as you hear the sounds of floorboards creaking, barely having time to look to see where Hobie could possibly be going before an weight is placed on your lap, and when you look down, you're met with the sight of Hobie smiling up at you, quite smugly.

"What are you doing?" You ask, just staring at him. Hobie shrugs, even nuzzling a bit further into your lap. "You looked rather comfortable, thought I'd join is all." He hums, closing his eyes. The position doesn't...look comfortable, for Hobie at least. His head is placed in your lap, his hands clasped together loosely over his abdomen while...his legs are sticking out over the armrest of the couch, being so tall and lanky he isn't as 'compact' as he calls you and other people shorter than him.

"You don't look comfortable." You state bluntly, Hobie peeks an eye open at you, "Do you want me to move?" He asks, you furrow your eyebrows at the question, shaking your head beginning to speak again. "But-" "Then, yes, I'm comfortable." Is all he says before closing his opened eye, looking incredibly peaceful despite the uncomfortable looking position he's in.

You shrug, deciding not to push. Knowing Hobie can be most comfortable in the most weirdest of positions. You can't help but yawn slightly seeing Hobie so relaxed. "We should nap." You suggest, already closing your eyes tiredly. Hobie murmurs an slight incoherent reply, "Way a head of you luv.." before turning his body to the side, one hand laying lazily against the couch while the other makes itself comfortable underneath the crook of one of your knees, already snoring.

You instantly feel all sleepiness drain from your body at the soft touch, opening your eyes to peer down at Hobie sleeping so soundly. You smile slightly, adjusting your position slightly to allow Hobie a bit more room on the couch.

-Hobie never was one for labels but upon meeting you, an new addition to spider society, he was instantly smitten. He couldn't help but gravitate towards you, seeking you out whenever he returned from missions, striking up conversation whenever possible, even if just for a moment. He denies the fluttering butterflies in his stomach each time he gets a glance at you or hears your name.

-Whenever Miguel would speak to you for mission details, he couldn't help but clench and unclench his hands in his vest, barely swallowing the lump in his throat, an uncomfortable pit rising in his stomach, one he hadn't felt in a long time. 'jealously', he recalls the name of the feeling, it's ridiculous isnt it? He's jealous over you, beautiful and intelligent you talking to such an unworthy asshole like Miguel, that just wouldn't do, would it?

-His jealousy grows tenfold when you start to make other friends in the spider society, he follows you around, glaring at anyone who even gives blinks in your direction, Hobie may or may not lead you places in effort to keep you away from others, his hand on your shoulder. "Aren't you starved after that mission, luv? I know the best burger joint ever-" it's all for the best if you stick with him, after all.

-Hobie has an irritated look on his face when you get an hug from Gwen, or an fist bump with Pavtir, but on the inside, he's absolutely enraged. He then decided to up the interceptions for other spiders to interact with you at all, and you just assume it's Hobie being friendly Hobie right? No harm done, he's just...checking on you 24/7.

-Hobie practically spirals out when you get hurt on a mission, be it an sprain or a bruise, he's absolutely worried out of his mind, self loathing thoughts screaming at him for letting this happen to you. He applies ointment, checks bandages, and offers pain medication at every turn, if he was protective before, oh boy is this man never leaving your side. When Hobie is assured you're safe and asleep in your respective dimension, he types in the coordinates to whatever dimension you had been send on for the mission, tracking down the person who had injured you with terrifying precision, and ensures that they die in a way that doesn't ring any alarm bells for Miguel and the other spiders, should they find out.

Hobie Brown with a S/O who dresses up Lolita Headcanon!

-I feel like he would just love every outfit that you would put on, he's living for when he gets a text that you got a new outfit. "No way, fashion show when I get home??"

-If you possibly make your own accessories and dresses, he would keep an eye out for any fabrics you might like, he'll swing by the local fabric store weekly if he has the time. (He knows a guy who knows a guy who lets him take fabric free of charge)

-Hobie would probably really inspired from your clothes, adding the scrapped patches from your projects to his own clothes. "Don't I look pretty too, eh?"

Gwen: Hey, Miles! I'm feeling like I could go for a sloppy joe, how about you?

Hobie: *squints at Gwen*

Miles: I mean, yeah but they're so messy and I still have stains on my shirt from the last one-

Hobie: *chokes on saliva*

Miles and Gwen turn to Hobie:

Miles: Dude- do you want one or something?

What about Hobie Brown dating someone who’s into Kpop? :0

(So sorry! I haven't checked my messages in a minute, thank you for the request!)

Hobie Brown with an S/O who into Kpop!

-He will listen to you rant about your new favorite song with ease, nodding along with interest knowing full well he has felt that rush of finding a new favorite, even if he may or may not be into the genre himself, he'll listen entirely content and patiently.

-If you have a favorite of a certain band, he will tease you softly everytime they show up on the television or your social media. "Oi, luv. Look, it's your girlfriend/boyfriend~" he would tease, not bothered by the fact you might have an interest in a certain person of a group.

-If you tried to get him into some of your favorite groups music, he might give it a few listens, complimenting what he likes, but, ultimately his heart probably belongs to punk rock, but...if you see him nodding his head along to your favorite bands new song, he'll avidly deny it. "Pshh, nahhh, you're imaginin' things."

Hobie Brown Quirks Headcanons

-Do not bend down in front of this man if you're either his partner or very close friends, he is smacking your ass, regardless of where you are, without shame. When you turn around to scold him, he has an carefree grin on his face, hands up in mock innocnce. "I 'ave not a Scooby Doo what you're talkin' bout."

-He will curse out inanimate objects. Stubs his toe on the way out of his place on a loose floorboard? He's cussing it out, he accidentally gets wacked in the head by a branch? he's flipping it off. His reasoning is, "I ain't about discrimination, everything can be cursed out."

-I don't necessarily see Hobie being a messy person, being punk doesn't equal having an messy lifestyle, however he will have his days where he wakes up, with an ungodly need to clean. he's tying his hair up, and has an armload of cleaning supplies, and just cleans top to bottom. I just see him having a blast cleaning with his favorite playlist in the background bumping, nodding his head along to the beat as he sweeps.

A Right Fool Indeed

Hobie tries his damnedest to keep you content and loved, always ensuring that you have little trinkets from him and that you know that you're loved with written reminders placed around the flat, however he can't always keep his promises of attending date nights time and time again due to something going haywire in the spider society, so, naturally on the fourth attempt of date night with Hobie being an no show, you give him the dreaded silent treatment.

Hobie enters through your shared flat door, in well consideration of your "no dimensional warping or teleporting in the house" rule you've set in place after too many incidents of being crashed into or something breaking due to his fashionable arrival and exits. He is also well prepared to suck up for missing yet another date night, having stopped along your favorite park to gather some flowers, gripping them carefully in his right hand.

He rolls his shoulders, calling out to you that he's home as he shuts the door behind him. he slugs off his vest, placing it on the coat rack to the side of the entryway before making his way further inside, searching for you. "Babe? Are you home?" He calls out once more, looking around in mild confusion, you usually would inform him if you left the apartment before he came back from an mission.

He keeps looking around, his face growing more and more confused each time as he turns up empty handed. That is, until he reaches the bedroom, opening the door with a soft creek of the old wood, Hobie's eyes finally land upon you, laying on your belly as you read a book. He brightens, walking further to kneel in front of you on the bed.

"Hello my little trouble n strife, I was looking for you." He smiles, his handful of flowers coming up to offer them to you, right beside your book as he peers down at it. "Now, I know, I've missed another date night and I truly am sorry, honest." He rambles meaningfully, "I nicked you some flowers from McAllen Park, the one where the little daises and daffodils are, plucked some just as an peace offering-" He looks up, and pauses, you...you haven't even looked up at him, matter of fact, you haven't spoke his ear off as he expected when he came within your view.

Hobie gives a small nervous chuckle, bringing his hand to wave out in front of your face, trying to figure out if you're truly that invested in your book. You merely blink, your eyes moving to side to side as you read each word with almost chilling nonchalance. Hobie only stares at you, his confusion growing each second longer than you read, not greeting him or anything.

Slowly, realization sinks in as you continue to ignore him. 'fuuuuck me' he thinks in his head, he leans closer, and lets his head fall upon the covers of the mattress in front of your book, as well as the flowers and groans. "Sweetheaaaart, are you that angry with me?" His muffled voice murmurs through the fabric of the mattress. You, as stubborn as ever, remain silent and keep your focus on your book.

Hobie looks up from having buried his head in the mattress to gauge if you're looking at him, or, at the very least not reading anymore, he only pouts slightly as he realizes his sweet partner wouldn't be his sweet partner without being as equally if not more stubborn than him.

Hobie places his hands in a begging motion on top of the bed, looking up at you with the most pitiful expression he can manage. "I know, darlin' I have no right to expect your forgiveness, it isn't fair to you that I can't attend the dates we plan and it breaks my heart that I can't be on time, or there at all. I'm a right fool-" that seems to catch your attention, as you close your book with a small thump, finally looking up at him and nod, with a matter of fact look on your face.

Hobie pauses, before repeating the phrase that got your attention, "I'm a right fool?" He questions, and at that you merely nod and smile satisfied with his conclusion, sitting up on the bed and walking out of the room, taking your book with you but you don't acknowledge Hobie other than that. Hobie stands, turning around to watch you leave with a befuddled look on his handsome features.