#and he had like a ripped punk skirt

[sonic-adventure-3]

i just woke up and had a dream about nonexistent cutscenes to a nonexistent sonic game and i’m so mad it’s not real it was so cute. the cast was sonic, knuckles, rouge, and shadow, but there was also these two old human guys and one of their daughters, or both their daughter idk. the plot was the two old human guys were business partners and best friends but then they were going through a divorce era cause they each screwed each other over in business or something and hated each other so fucking much. and they built an absurdist non-euclidian abstract torture labyrinth as representation of their divorce. years later they’re for real trying to kill each other so the daughter asks sonic and co for help unraveling the secrets of the labyrinth.

idk why it was those 4 specific characters but knuckles and shadow both had dope outfits and were interacting way more than they ever have. shadow had a spiked leather jacket, shades, and platform combat boots. knuckles had his ova hat and a poncho, and his spines were pulled back into a ponytail. sonic and rouge were normal though. the artstyle of the game was like, pseudo low-poly, but they were textured like they were made of like clay or gummies and the lighting was really incredible, like rtx bullshit nice, subsurface scattering up the wazoo. but the humans were flat animated pngs in the 3d environments. like smile for me but like stock photo businessmen and teenage girl.

anyway the first area of the absurdist torture labyrinth was a airport lounge buffet that was entirely shades of beige. the window outside had no airplane or airport it was a perpetual sunset over water. the outside of the building they’re in can’t be seen from any angle. the buffet only served this one chocolate raspberry cream tart, but every time the camera looked away and looked back there was more of it. there was just one plate at first and then plates of the tart covered every single surface. sonic and rouge were talking about how all of this is definitely not normal in any way. the girl was just eating a slice of the tart the entire time

the scene cuts to one of the businessmen standing on some steps leading up to a nice apartment building carrying a briefcase and a bottle of wine. he speaks directly to the camera and says he’s bringing a bottle of wine made by the same company as the tart to the other guy’s apartment to smooth things over. then we follow him walking up like 6 flights of stairs and walking down hallways for like 3 minutes straight with no music no talking just the sounds of him walking and his clothes shuffling. he reaches a door and unlocks it, steps in and heads straight for the floor to ceiling window. immediately the the sound of the shower running is evident from when the apartment door was opened, and a woman’s voice coming from the shower says “hello?! who are you? why are you in my apartment? please leave. please leave” and etc. the guy ignores all this and from his briefcase he starts pulling out parts and setting up a sniper rifle.

about there i woke up

[coryosbaby]

The power you’d have over me if u wrote for anakin<3

𝒮𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝑜𝒹𝑒𝓇𝓃! 𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓀𝒾𝓃 𝒮𝓀𝓎𝓌𝒶𝓁𝓀𝑒𝓇 ♡

Cw: mentions of blood, fem! Reader, nsfw . light dubcon, spanking, praise, anal and vaginal fingering, p n v, riding, spit kink, creampie, breeding

A/N: confession: I don’t watch Star Wars. pls don’t come for me. but Hayden Christensen is so FINE omfg bro and the modern punk version of anakin got me on my knees 🧎🏼‍♀️

It’s not hard for you to become pliant underneath your boyfriend— his nurturing demeanor and soft gaze even as he demands you to bend over his knee has your panties soaking and your brain becoming fuzzy, that familiar headspace sinking in and making you want to please him as much as you can.

It had started with your minor attitude problems throughout the day, but when you had begun to pout, and then secretly stole away Anakin’s credit card to buy a new (expensive) dress, it was the last straw. And now, as his ring clad fingers grip your hips and bend you over his knee, you’re practically quivering under his authority.

“What did I tell you, you fucking brat?” Anakin growls, as he lifts up your pretty pink skirt. He pays no mind to your panties as his hand lands down on your cheek, hard. You squeal, beginning to try and crawl off his lap— an attempt at running away, to the best of your ability. But the boy just throws you back in place and slaps you even harder.

“Don’t you run away from me. This is your punishment.”

“But I jus’..” you hiccup, wriggling against his thighs and hardened cock below you. Oh, to have the thick length in your mouth, to have a bulge forming in your throat from how tightly he fucks against you. “I jus’ wanted you to pay attention to me. You haven’t paid attention to me all day!”

“And that gives you the excuse to act like a brat?” He tsks, grabbing the fabric of your thong and pulling it taut in between your asscheeks. It hurts, but the pressure forming on your little clit from the fabric bunching up makes you let out a tiny mewl. “No, no, baby. That’s not the deal we’ve made here. If you’re good, you get rewarded. But you haven’t been good, have you?”

You want so badly to convince him: yes. yes, I’ve been a good girl, but you still didn’t give me your cock inside me. It isn’t fair!

But alas, you shake your head, decided that agreeing with the boy is your best option. Anakin grabs the sides of your thong and slides it down your thighs. More access, more skin to redden. His palm comes down on you again. It’s light, but that only means that the next one is going to be even harder than the last one he had given you.

And you were right. With almost all the strength he can muster (though not too much; he doesn’t want to hurt you incredibly), his hand comes down on your backside with a mighty force. You lurch forward, a pained moan ripping through your throat. He does it again, hard. Again, hard. Again— and again. Your cunt aches and throbs.

“Ani,” you sob. “Please— please, Ani, ‘m so sorry, sir! No more, please ..”

Anakin hesitates. But only for a moment; if this were to become too much he knows that a safe word would be spewing from your lip gloss coated lips. He exhales sharply.

“Three more.” He states gruffly.

You almost begin to cry even harder at those words. Anakin raises his hand, and slaps both cheeks. That must count as one strike instead of two. You writhe, and tears coat your cheeks and mascara runs down your face as he leaves welts on your skin. The next one is almost harder than the last, if possible, and a yell pierced through your throat at the sting. He may have drawn blood— you don’t really know, but it wouldn’t be the first time. But it’s okay. It’s okay because it’s your Ani, and Ani only does what’s best for you, and Ani gives you your punishments and no one else does. It’s so insanely bittersweet.

Anakin rubs your cheeks and soothes them with his palms. He softly whispers, “this okay, angel? Too much?” Because he’s just caring like that, and of course you shake your head and beg him to hit you again. It’s the last hit, and he takes his time and builds suspension before hitting your bruised skin one last time. Mewling, you let out a small, “Ani.. hurts.”

His fingers trace your cheeks, admiring the hand marks left there.

“You did good, sweet girl,” he coos. “So, so good. I think you deserve to cum now.”

You keen, nodding your head aggressively at his suggestion. You move your leg off in an attempt to open them wider. Anakin leans down and kisses both cheeks.

And then, with gentle hands, he pulls them apart, exposing your pussy and asshole to him. Oh, his two most favorite places in the world to rest in. He circles his thumb around your puckered asshole, and then spits down into the crack of your ass. You whimper and clench around nothing at this feeling, and Anakin slides his thumb into you. He thrusts it in, out, in, out. It burns, makes you tighten and heave. Then with his other hand he goes down to pat your swollen pussy lightly. He slides a finger against your folds.

“Wet little thing,” he murmurs. “All for me?”

You nod, pushing yourself up against his touch as he continuously pummels your asshole with his thumb .

“All f’ you, sir.” You reply.

“Good.”

He rubs your swollen little nub between two of his fingers. You cry out at the stimulation on your bundle of nerves. He slides a finger against your slit and back up again.

“Such a cute little hole.” he grunts. You don’t know if he’s referring to your pussy or the way your asshole has his thumb in a tight grip. He slides it out and then uses your mouth to wet his middle and ring finger. He slips his middle finger back into your soft ring of muscle and begins to thrust it harder. His ring finger on his other hand slips into your throbbing entrance. Wet sloshing sounds echo from your warm snatch as Anakin speeds up the pace of both of his fingers. Your eyes are practically rolling back in your head, and you bring your hands back to grab his wrist connecting to the fingers in your back entrance. It’s not in a way to slow him down, but more to speed him up; you help him move his fingers at an even faster pace.

“Yeah, you like that?” Anakin spits, watching your desperation. “My fingers feel good in your tight little ass, baby?”

“Yes, nghhh—“ his thigh rocks underneath you, as a way to relieve some of the tension in his aching cock. Remembering that this isn’t even the best part— that Anakin’s cock is still something he has to give to you, it makes your stomach flutter with butterflies. “I love your fingers inside me, daddy!”

“Yeah, you little whore. Little holes are clenching so tight baby, fuck—“ he groans, beginning to fuck up from underneath you. His jeans pressing against his cock makes him ache even more. “— shit, need to fuck this little pussy so bad..”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. In an effort to get up, you grab his wrist from behind once again and slowly pull them out of you. Understanding what you’re trying to do, Anakin is quick to slip his fingers out of your pussy, too. You stand up on wobbly feet and slip your panties completely off of yourself. Anakin watches as your hands nimbly begin to unbuckle his belt. He bites his lower lip at the sight of your nipples that have become stiff with all of his attention. You pull his cock out, a small sigh escaping you as you see the pre cum leaking from the head. You straddle his thighs; his mouth drops open at the feeling of your bare pussy lips brushing against his girthy length. And with his glazed over eyes never leaving yours, you sink down onto him.

Your thighs practically shake as he fills you, your mouth dropping open just as his has. He stretches you out roughly, a burn starting in your core, but you don’t care. You begin to slam yourself up and down on his cock. Anakin is practically hypnotized by the way your tits bounce up and down in front of him.

“Good girl, baby.” He praises. You moan when his hands grip your sore cheeks. “Yeah, ride that fuckin’ cock. That’s it, honey..”

Skin on skin is the only thing heard in the room, the wet slapping sounds making your pussy gush on him. He thrusts up from underneath you, making you gasp. He does it again, and this time your face falls into his neck. He grips your cheeks tightly, spreads them apart, and slips his finger back inside.

“Oh—“

Your pussy clenches, and Anakin begins to pummel your pussy with desperation. His balls slap against your thighs.

“Such a tight little pussy.. always so creamy and wet for daddy, arent you? Fuck yeah, you are. Ride my fuckin’ cock, bitch, yeah.”

It’s all that can spew from Anakin’s lips as your cunt envelopes him. He can’t take it anymore, and with his strong arms he lifts your body up and wraps your arms around his waist. Squealing, you wrap your arms around his neck in an effort to hold yourself up. He goes over to the desk beside his bed, making room by swiping useless objects off with one hand. He places you on top of the table, beginning to fuck you again. Your cheeks sting from the feeling of the wood underneath you. Anakin grips one of your tits and grabs your throat as he rams into your raw, abused hole.

“Open your mouth,” he growls. “Open your fuckin’ mouth, bitch.”

You obey, head fuzzy as you open your mouth for him. He gathers saliva in his mouth and spits down onto your tongue. You swallow it for him, sticking your tongue out again.

“More, daddy, more!” You mewl. Of course, he gives you what you want— another load of his saliva is sliding down your throat in no time.

You can sense that he’s close. His hips keep sputtering, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Looking down, you watch the bulge poking in and out of your stomach as Anakin fills you. It’s so perfect, your hand goes down to press against the mound of skin there.

“It’s so deep,” you whine out. “Ani, please— need your cum, baby..”

“Oh my god…” he moans. “Gonna give it to you. Gonna fill this fuckin’ hole up. Gonna put a baby in my baby…”

That makes you practically scream, and with one last thrust Anakin’s cum is spilling deep in your womb. You shake, watching as he rides out his high. You can feel how full of cum he’s made you, how completely used you are. He sighs, heavy. He rests his head in the crook of your neck. After a moment he pulls away, and you watch as his cock slips out of your gaping hole. His cum seeps out of you in thick, creamy streams. Anikan doesn’t hesitate to get down on his knees in front of you. His tongue moves to your hole as he begins to fuck his cum back into you, and you can feel the labret on his bottom lip scraping against your cunt. He slides his fingers inside of you and moves his tongue to your clit. You cry out as he suckles the swollen button into your mouth. Your orgasm is only a few moments away. A flick, and another. Your thighs squeeze his head, and then you’re finally cumming— body freezing up, a loud moan spilling from you. Anakin finger fucks you through your orgasm. Pulling away, he brings his cum soaked fingers up to your mouth. As he watches your tongue wrap around the digits, he smiles.

“Did so good,” he mutters. “Love you.”

Your hands go up to card through his dyed black and blue hair.

“Love you, Ani.”

© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!

[holylulusworld]

Soft Spot

Summary: He has a soft spot for you.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Librarian!Reader

Warnings: fluff, implied smut, mentions of his business

“Doll, you shouldn’t be here. I told you this place is not for you,” Bucky mumbles as you button up his shirt. You’re sitting on his lap, your legs crossed behind his back.

You’re wearing nothing but one of his spare button-ups and a pair of panties as Bucky impatiently ripped your blouse open. He even ruined your skirt.

After work, you decided to visit your man and bring him dinner. Bucky had other plans. Before you could unpack the food you bought on your way to the club, he had you bare in no time to take you apart again.

“You’re my man and I want to share every aspect of your life. It’s a strip club, not hell,” you softly say. You know Bucky means well, but you’re not a child. It didn’t take you long to learn about his business's nature. “I’m not a child.”

“I didn’t mean it that way, baby doll,” he cups your chin with his metal hand. He slides his thumb over your lower lip, humming when you open your mouth to stick your tongue out and lick the tip of his finger. “I want to keep you safe and out of my business.”

“It’s too late for that.”

Bucky sighs deeply at your words. Of course, it’s too late. He dragged you into his world. There is no going back to your old life.

Not a year and a half ago you were a shy librarian, minding your own business. Suddenly, the cocky mobster stepped into your life and stole your heart.

“Do you regret getting involved with me?” he whispers while running his flesh hand over your back.

“No. This would mean regretting falling in love with you. I could never regret loving you, Bucky,” you answer honestly. “If you want me to be your girlfriend, you must accept that I need to know everything about you.”

“Baby doll, my business is-“ he shakes his head. “I’m not a good man, Y/N. I killed people. I got so much blood on my hands that I’ll never be able to wash them clean.”

“You’re a good man. For me…to me,” you wrap your hand around his wrist to bring it to your lips. “This hand is made of metal because you saved someone’s life, Bucky. I know the story.”

“What? How?”

“Steve.”

"That punk," he chuckles. “I knew he couldn't keep a secret. I should kill him.”

“You won’t because you love him like a brother,” you tease and move his metal hand to your throat. “If you are a bad man, kill me. Squeeze my throat and end my life.”

“What? NO! Baby doll, what are you talking about?”

“See,” you guide his hand to your heart, “this belongs to you. It’s yours.”

“I see how people look at me,” Bucky says. “The last time I came to the library they were about to freak out. I think they believed I wanted to kidnap you.”

You gently cup his face and look into his eyes. “I quit today. No one has the right to make you feel less than perfect. You are perfect for me, Bucky. I know you did bad things but I don’t care.”

“You quit? Why?” Bucky asks. He tries to hide his excitement. Bucky hated that you still worked in the library. He saw enemies lurking in the dusty hallways, even though no one was around.

“I heard them talk about you the other day,” you whisper while leaning closer to press your lips to his. “No one talks like that about the man I love.”

“What do you want to do now?”

“I thought about opening my own business, or maybe I’ll let you pay for all the cupcakes I baked for you,” you giggle when he moves his hands to your ass to roughly grope it.

He grins. “Maybe I’ll just offer you a position in my organization.”

“What position, Mr. Barnes?”

“How about my queen?”

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[drefear]

Hail to the King

Chapter 3: The Start

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is the head of the biggest mafia family in Nueva York, scaring almost all of its citizens. Except you. And that’s exactly what he needs.

TW: implied smut, public, psychical domestic abuse, angst, Miguel is a real piece of work and kinda spoiled

AN: this one’s a little bit short and intense, but the next part should be a bit juicer :)

The morning started with sunlight blaring into your eyes as you squinted at your alarm clock.

8am.

8AM?!

Jumping to your feet, you tripped onto the floor over an unpacked box and felt your knee go numb for a moment. Getting back up and grabbing your phone, you glance at your phone. 6:15 am, you breathed a breath of relief. You’d have to remember to reset the time on your bedside so that didn’t scare you again. You move to kneel by one of the boxes and pull out some of your jackets and sweaters, laying them out on your bed and looking over them. Glancing back at the designer garment bags and shoe boxes in your new closet, your mind was set. It was time to show Miguel that you were your own person, and he couldn’t control you even if he was your boss.

Applying some natural makeup and placing your hair in curls, you were done with your appearance. How could anyone look down on you now, with how put together you looked? Slipping on the white silk blouse you’d bought, you paired it with a gray pencil skirt and a delicate gold necklace. You slipped on a pair of red bottom nude shoes and flattened the front of the skirt in the mirror, putting your shoulders back to measure yourself up and overlook your appearance.

As much confidence as you felt a moment ago while getting ready, now it was time to face the music and actually go to work, which somewhat terrified you after the affairs of last night. Eyes faltering, you played with the button on your sleeve and heard a knock at your door, brows furrowing in apprehension. You paused before you grabbed your bag and opened your front door, looking up to see a man in a black jacket with chains and rips all over it, strategically placed. Dreads covering his eyes a bit, he had a few piercings and looked at you with no expression whatsoever. Your hands held your purse a little tighter from nerves as this intimidating stranger was at your door.

“I’m ‘er ta take you to work.” He said as he glanced at one of his gloves as if he was inspecting something. You nodded, reaching out to shake hands with him, but he just smirked. “Name’s Hobie, but they call me Punk.” He jutted his chin towards the elevator. “We meetin’ the big man in the lobby.” His back turned and he walked to the metal doors as you just followed, locking your home before quickening your pace to catch up with his leisurely stride.

Silence followed you both like a scent brought into a room, slowly wafting around with nowhere to go. The feeling wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t familiar and relaxed either. Almost similar to a party where you don’t know anyone, but you can still have a good time.

“So you gave him the what for?’ His british drawl interrupted your pitiful thoughts and made you look up at him.

“I guess I did.” You laughed a bit and he smirked, looking ahead again.

“Good. He could use someone remindin’ ‘em he’s still human.” The way he spoke was almost as if you being stubborn and abrasive was amusing to him, like it was a show he was watching. “Be nice havin’ someone else with no fear to give it back to ‘em.”

“We all need to be spoken to as equals. That’s at least how I feel.” You answered, checking your watch and straightening up.

“You couldn’t’a said it any betta.” He nodded as the doors opened and stepped out right away, as if he couldn’t wait to be free. My eyes met with Miguel’s as he stood in the lobby on the phone.

“Yes, I-“ his words stopped short as his eyes roamed my body, obviously checking out my clothing after his comment yesterday. His eyes found mine once more and spoke again, “I’m busy now, goodbye.” He hung up without hesitation. “Is that what you’re wearing?”

You were stunned. This again?

“Yes?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” He replied and your anger began to boil.

“I’m telling you but you’re making me think I dressed wrong.”

“You did. Do you expect any of my men to be able to focus while you’re wearing that tight skirt?” He took a step forward, attempting to intimidate you with his size. Once again, you wouldn’t give in.

“Tell them to try harder. I’m not going to change because your men can’t handle seeing a woman’s body in a tight outfit without having to touch her. Fuck that.” You raised your voice at the end and he tilted his chin up, contemplating his next thoughts.

“Fine, but you won’t leave my side today. That way, if anyone misbehaves, I’ll know about it first and I can handle it correctly.” He turned once he was done speaking and waved for you both to follow. “And when I’m not with you, I want Hobie or Jess with you. They know enough about how everything works, so they can handle these matters.”

With that, he was gone again and you looked at Hobie.

“I’m wit’ you. Don’t let ‘em touch you just cause ya hot. Stab ‘em in the jugular.” He added and strolled past you to get into the car.

“Stab- what?” You stuttered and then got in. It was going to be a strange day.

Aside from the looks, though, it went by perfectly smooth. No one even dared flirt with you and everything was perfectly professional. You expected hound dogs and catcalls, but nothing transpired and you mentally rolled your eyes at your boss. He could be so over dramatic.

Your heels clacked against the tile as you walked towards Miguel’s office, which was next door to yours, and you knocked when you saw the door closed.

“Come in.” He answered, but you heard another person in there. You opened the door and saw no one else. Strange. “Make it fast, I’m busy.” He glared up to you as he glanced to your eyes and then back to his computer screen.

“You have a guest waiting downstairs, he said he has inside information on the Octavius family-” You said, then stopped abruptly at the sound of… gagging?

Damnit, not this again…

“Miguel, let the poor girl breathe, she’d obviously had her mouth full this whole time.” You rolled your eyes and glanced at your tablet. “You’re insatiable.” You mumbled and turned, hearing him sigh and roll his chair out for a moment, then watching a girl get out from under his desk. It was a different girl from yesterday, and she wiped her mouth to get off the dried drool and whatever else it was. He leaned on his elbow and pouted a bit, glancing towards the window. “And put it away.” You added, turning your head from the two of them. He sat back and tucked himself in, “thank you, now get prepared for your guest. He’s taking a big risk, coming here with this.” You sent him a deadly look and watched the girl moved awkwardly as he yanked her hand and sat her on his lap.

“Send him in.”

You rolled your eyes and inhaled an exasperated breath. “You are the absolute worst.” Your resentment was evident on your face as he nodded towards the door. “Fine. But I’m not going to apologize for you being a tool.” You walked out of the room as the girls’ faces turned completely red.

The next few weeks went by smoothly, nothing went awry or caused issues. Everyday was basically the same. Get up, get ready, go to work…

And do your best to not be disgusted by Miguel’s insane, untamed, and sexually uncouth tendencies.

Every day, he had a few different sexual activities scheduled. Sometimes, you’d call him and be put on speaker while he slammed into the back of the red head from floor 4, and other days, he’d blatantly tell you to come to his office and discuss notes for the meeting while fingering the brunette from finance. You’d just sigh and ignore the moans and uncomfortable squishing sounds.

A few times, he’d called you about an issue after work and you’d hear pornographic sounds in the background.

You didn’t ask. You told yourself you didn’t want to know, but that was a lie. Most of the time, if you were in front of him, he kept it in his pants, so you’d never actually seen what he was working with, but the sounds of most of the women he was with seemed fake, so you assumed it wasn’t anything to write home about.

Two more weeks went by peacefully with this routine. Until one night after you’d gone to sleep…

Buzz buzz buzz… buzz buzz buzz…

Buzz buzz buzz… buzz buzz buzz…

Grumbling, you opened one eye to see your phone vibrating relentlessly. You finally answered, rubbing your face a bit.

“Mmm?” You could barely speak, your brain not fully awake yet.

“Why didn’t you pick up right away?” His voice was angry and you didn’t have to energy to put up with his bullshit attitude.

“Because my hours are 8am to 6pm, and house visits are not included, so watch how you’re fucking talking to me while I’m off the clock.” You hissed and turned on the lamp you’d bought for next to your bed. It was pretty, from a thrift store and you’d loved it the second you’d seen it.

“I’m still your boss.”

“Not at this second. Right now, you’re a nuisance. Now spit it out before I hang up.”

Silence.

“Ok, I’m done-”

“Fine. I need you to call for an escort for an event next week. My previous date had a fight with her husband and will not be able to make it.” He spoke slowly and you sighed.

“Did you fuck her? Is that why?” You don’t know why you even asked, since it wasn’t your business and you already knew the answer.

He was quiet again. “Miguel, you fucking ass. Do I need to hire someone else for her job too?” You questioned and he mumbled a barely audible ‘yes,’ under his breath. “So I’m genuinely curious. Do you have any self control or does your dick handle your brain waves?”

“Enough, just call the fucking escort.” He grumbled and you massaged your temples.

“So you’re telling me that this couldn’t wait until the morning?”

“I wanted it done as soon as possible, and I didn’t want anyone else to hear about it.” Ah, so he was embarrassed, you thought. Maybe he does have a conscience.

“Why not ask one of the other bimbos you use as stress relief?”

“I don’t want this to happen to one of them either.”

“Are they all married?” You huffed, erasing that mental note of his morality.

“Aside from Lyla, all of the women in the office are. It’s part of why I hired you as well. I’ve been told-”

“What?” You interrupted, scrunching your nose. “I’m not married.”

“Your background check said that you were.”

“Oh.” You whispered, “I’m… well… it’s complicated.” You looked around, “But my personal life isn’t the point, I’ll call the agency in the morning.” You tried to cut it short, but all you heard were footsteps. “Hello?”

“I’ll be at your door in two minutes.” And the phone call ended, with you staring at the screen. You hadn’t even gotten out of bed, how were you supposed to deal with this?

Two minutes later, a knock was heard as you raced to the door and threw your hair up in a bun. It didn’t help that you slept naked, so you tugged on a t-shirt and a pair of panties before throwing your robe on top. He stood there, white v-neck t-shirt and gray sweatpants. (Of fucking course he was wearing those.)

You were standing silently as he looked down with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he picked up your hands and scanned them. Then he walked in and looked around. You watched his movements begrudgingly.

“You know, this is highly unprofessional.” You cleared your throat. “And you can’t just walk into my-”

“I paid for this apartment.”

“I didn’t ask for it.” You threw back at his rude comment. He narrowed his eyes around and then back to you. “So what the hell is the point of this all?”

“I called you after she called me and told me what had happened.” Your silence prompted him to speak again, “she said she was filing for divorce from her husband because she was in love with me.” Oh. Your jaw dropped a bit as he showed no reaction. “I fired her.”

“You are heartless.”

“I’m focused.” He corrected and glanced around the living room once more. “Your record said you were married.”

“As of a few months ago, I’m divorced.” You announced, avoiding his eyes and biting the inside of your cheek. The truth was it was still fresh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it with anyone. Not even Gwen or Jess or Lyla knew, but you guessed now that wasn’t true since Lyla was the one who told Miguel that you were married.

“How come you still come up as married?”

“He won’t sign the papers…” You rubbed the back of your neck, moving to sit on your couch and having a feeling this conversation was going to be a long one. After a second, you assumed he was waiting for you to keep speaking and you complied with the silent command. “He still lives in my hometown, but he’s tried contacting me. At first, it was constant, all day every day and night. But then, it slowed down. He tried coming here to visit once, but he didn't have my new address. It’s part of why I didn’t put up a fight when you wanted me to move.”

You both sat in a tense and emotional silence, wringing your hands from anxiety.

“Why’d you leave him?” His voice was deeper, more gentle as he asked. Memories flooded behind your eyes as his question echoed in her head.

You screamed as you heard a snap, his face dangerously close to yours. “You knew he was looking at you! You wanted him!” The smell of alcohol was strong in your nose as he spit while yelling at you. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you whimpered, his grip on your limp wrist painful and you saw that your arm was beginning to swell. He wasn’t backing off, he didn’t believe you, he was so drunk.

“Eddie, please… I love you, I could never want anyone else.” You whispered and raised the other hand to hold his cheek, watching his facial expression change and soften. “I’m your girl. Only your girl, forever. We promised, we vowed… right?” Your voice was cautious, soft. His hold on your definitely broken wrist lessened and you moved slowly to cradle your limp limb. Tears fell more freely as the pain soared and you shook in the shock.

“You’re my girl… I’ll fix this.” He kissed your knuckle as you looked at him with fear. “Let’s get you to the hospital, you took a nasty fall.” He looked down at you and you understood his silent command, one you already knew too well. Years of enduring this had molded you to his creation, a being a fear and surrender.

“I don’t think that’s important to our relationship as boss and employee.” Your whole body stiffened as you remember that memory, one of your hands moving to hold the wrist that had been broken.

“It is if this person decides to come here. He already seems like he’s not complying with your divorce, what if he shows up unannounced again?” He leaned forward on his knees as he stared at you with an underlying tone in his voice as he spoke. He knew.

“His name is Eddie.” Your voice cracked saying his voice, as if it physically broke you to re-live him. “And he would hurt me.” You whispered through gritted teeth, hating admitting that you were perishable and his hands were how you learned that about yourself. Miguel’s expression softened slightly.

“You can admit that, now you have to make sure you never let anyone make you feel that way again.” He announced, and stood. “You’ll begin self defense training with me.” He rolled his shoulders and you just listened, nodding. You weren't used to being so docile anymore, especially not with your boss, but this was different. This would benefit you and help you become stronger, someone that no one could manhandle ever again.

“When do we start?”

Your work outfit

Chapter 2 Chapter 4

[moonstruckme]

So, I know you don't commonly really write for steddie, and you don't have to write this if you don't wanna. But what about Like, reader graduates hawkins high and goes of to college (eddie is probably still held back for his last year???) And when she left she was more on the quite side, soft color pallet, kinda stariotypical pastel sunshine character. And she comes back for the summer and she's like, more punk-ish??? Like a few more piercings, and same kinda quite personality but kinda different aesthetic?

I think you could do something similar with poly!marauders as well, where same thing happens but it's over the summer between years?

Idk, you dont even have to write it, I just have a stupid soft spot for this weird trope/character arc. Make sure to take care of yourself and have a lovely day!!!!!

I'm happy to write for any characters on my list, thanks for requesting gorgeous! Hope you're having a lovely day and taking care of yourself as well <3

Steddie x fem!reader ♡ 637 words

Steve and Eddie are scanning the crowd for you up until the very moment you come up to them. Even then, it takes Eddie a second to recognize you. 

“Hey,” you say, tentative. 

“Hey,” Steve says, stepping forward. “Shit, honey, come here.” 

You grin, some of the apprehension easing from your features as you hug him. 

“Shit,” Eddie agrees, wrapping his arms around the both of you. “Almost didn’t recognize you, sunshine.” 

Sunshine might not even be the best nickname for you now. When you’d left for college last fall, you’d looked like the rainbow had befriended you personally. All pastels, colorful sweaters and flowy little skirts. Now, it’s like you’ve been plucked from a graphic novel. Your clothes are dark down to the shoes, with ripped black tights under your shorts and lace-up combat boots that, frankly, Eddie thinks might get a little hot in the Indiana summer. He wonders if you’d be amenable to him calling you his little bat. Or witchling, maybe? He’ll have to workshop it. 

“You look so different.” Steve sounds positively flabbergasted, stepping back to take you in more fully. “I mean, not a bad different, I just—wow, it’s really…” Eddie snickers. In his opinion, you look far less like someone Steve Harrington would ordinarily date (the girl next door, preppy style, Nancy Wheeler clone) and more like someone he would (cool as fuck). Luckily for you, they both love you down to your ooey gooey core no matter how you present yourself. 

“It’s a new look, babe, and it’s fucking sick,” Eddie summarizes. “Is this what college does to people? Maybe I should come visit.” 

You roll your eyes at him, flushing faintly. Another pro of your new style: the pink of your face stands out ever-so-much-more brilliantly against your new dark palate. 

“I’m serious, sweetheart,” Eddie goes on, delighting in watching your color change. “I need you to start coming to my shows so we can lure in your crowd. You’re too fucking cool for us now.” 

Your shoulders start to come up around your ears, but Steve saves you, tucking you under his arm with a kiss to the top of your head. “She was always too cool for us,” he says. It’s the truth, and Eddie sends you a wink to make sure you know he knows it. “You look amazing, really. God, we’ve missed you so—is that a tattoo?”

Eddie all but lunges for you. “Where?” 

“Here,” Steve says, stretching the collar of your shirt over your shoulder, where an inky design sits starkly against your skin. “Shit, this is so cool.” Eddie jostles for space, head squishing between yours and Steve’s to get a better look. “It really works for you.” 

You smile bashfully. “Thanks.” 

“Fuck me,” Eddie breathes, and you shiver pleasantly as his breath his your shoulder. “Actually, if I can get us to Steve’s in five minutes, would you top me right now? This is too fucking hot—oh, don’t look at me like that, Stevie boy. You know you like it too.” 

“I do,” Steve says, giving Eddie a look that’s probably aiming for stern but only hitting fond as he tries to coax your face from his chest. “It looks great honey, when did you get this?”

Your voice is characteristically quiet, but a bit proud, when you say, “That one’s from a couple months ago. I got my first last November, though.”

“Your first?” Eddie’s gobsmacked. “How many are there? Wait, no, don’t tell me.” He grabs you by the legs, hoisting you over his shoulder. “I wanna find ‘em.” 

“Eds, put me down!” You hiss in his ear, but your words are undercut by giggles. “Steve!”

“Sorry, but I’m kinda on board with this one,” Steve says with an apologetic shrug in your direction. He tosses Eddie the keys. 

[weemansoap]

The type of Goths the 141 boys thirst for

I saw this post earlier and I've been stewing on it all damn day! I'm not much of a writer, but just hear me out...

John is most into a romantic goth aesthetic. He's absolutely smitten by the elegant outfits and soft makeup looks and that dark lipstick!!! The kind of man that wants his own Morticia Adams but he would absolutely treat you like Gomez. Would buy you any outfits or accessories you want for your outfits, will happily follow you around bookstores carrying the growing stack you're picking out, buy them and carry them home for you too. Anything you want, you're his little goth queen and he will treat you as such.

Soap loves a trad goth. He likes how nonrestrictive this subculture is, that you dress however you want and he thinks the music isn't bad either. It really reminds him of his teenage punk days. His favourite outfit though is when you wear his leather jacket with a band tee, chunky boots and short skirt that show off your legs clad in ripped up nylons so he can run his hands all the way up the silky material to wear he wants to be the most. He thinks the big fluffy/spiky hair styles look so cool and he'll let you tease up his own mohawk when he's home with you, especially when you guys go out so he can match with you. With shout and fight at anyone who gives you a weird look or makes a comment about your outfit in public. Ghost You may not believe this, but I think Ghost has his eyes on a sweet little pastel goth. The first time he met you he was drawn in by the bone stockings and the ridiculously oversized pink sweater you were wearing as a dress that had a rib cage design on it. He was smitten that you also had a skeleton theme going on as well, but it was balanced by all the soft pastel colours you were wearing with it. The juxtaposition amused him greatly, just as he amused you when he wandered over to offer to by you a drink, only for him to woo you with puns and terrible jokes, making you realize he wasn't as scary as he looked behind his own skeleton balaclava. He's super secure in his masculinity as well, so he doesn't put up a fuss when you as if you can pain his nails to match yours (black with one pink accent nail to match your pink with one black accent nail), or when you make him brightly coloured bead bracelets he never takes them off unless he absolutely has to. His heart skips a beat any time he finds you wearing one of his sweatshirts, absolutely swimming in the fabric since he was so much wider than you. He always gets a chuckle when people see you together and wonder how the hell this tall dark broody guy could end up with such a soft sweet looking thing, only for you to be just as dark as him, and he's always so sweet to you.

Gaz Idk I feel like Gaz likes Nu Goth. He strikes me as a simple man, but not a boring man. He just likes things being comfortable and likes seeing you comfortable. When he sees some of your friends in the corsets or the tall heels/heavy boots he wonders how anyone can enjoy dressing like that, but then he sees you in a tee shirt, ripped up jeans and long black cardigan flowing behind you and you two go off on your coffee date and he's so happy knowing you're cozy and comfortable.

[firewalkzwit]

arabella // hobie brown x reader (one-shot)

oneshot of hobie trying to pursue a reader who's effortlessly cool and has strong arabella vibes cuz i love that vibe. inspired some on slc punk and sex pistols lore, cool fic for the music enthusiasts

New girl's hip New girl's cool New girl's interesting New girl's hot.

"She came straight out of 70's New L.A. She's no rockstar's girlfriend, she's a rockstar herself! Crazy hair, mysterious bassist, she's from outer space."

AO3

And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams...

"Ay, who's the new girl?" Was the first thing Hobie asked as he nudged Pav's shoulder, not breaking his intense stare at the new recruit. 

"New girl? Oh that's YN." Pav shifted his narrowed eyes into Hobie's, a teasing grin drawing on his face.

"Yea' but what's her full name...?"

"Go ask her yourself man, everyone calls her YN." Hobie never got her name, she refused to be called anything but those particular initials.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was stunning, show-stopping, alluring. 

At least to Hobie, all adjectives were perfectly applicable.

She had this quirk, this confidence and these slight Chrissie Hynde vibes, boldness when she spoke that made her so attractive, and to top it she was a great musician. 

Back in her dimension it was the seventies, and she was the leader of a girl band where she played the bass, doing small gigs in downtown New L.A.

She wore flamboyant black cowboy boots and scandalous skirts, with chunky sunglasses that looked like the eyes of a bug. She had crazy hair and wore Vivienne Westwood's accessories on her pierced ears and fingers before it was even cool in the US. Her dark tights were always ripped but she didn't care, she called it a fashion statement. So did she call her Spidey suit, which had a unique design that caught anyone's attention. 

Love was for posers Hobie thought, but what's more punk than going against your own structures?

"Gwendy I gotta' talk to this girl more." Hobie's frustration was something Gwen wasn't used to seeing. His nature was often relaxed, only energic when invited to disrupt the order, but hardly ever frustrated.

"Well, you don't have to." Gwen shrugged as she tried to mask the frown that was forming in her face, but her wrinkled nose gave away her displease of jealousy.

"I know, but I want to." His attention was fixed on YN, how she moved and talked. "I wanna hear her play. You're a girl right? When you girls think a lad's fit, how much of that comes from his coolness?" He asked as he leaned on Gwen's side, resting his body weight on her. She scoffed in disbelief at the absurdity of his question, something only a man could ask. 

"Since when do you want to conform to the arbitrary standards of women?"

"I don't, I just wanna' know how many I can get away with breaking and she can still like me yea'?" Hobie chuckled before getting up again. "Don't get too jealous on me alright?" He joked, patting his friend's shoulder as he jumped down from where they were sitting, approaching her once again.

"He's never gonna give up is he?" Miles sat once again close beside Gwen, who sighed at the sight of Hobie attempting to come off as nonchalant with a girl who only seemed to curve his insinuations over and over. 

"That's such a man thing to do, no offense." Gwen spat as her hand slid down her face, pointing at what she could only describe as a humilliation show.

"Yeah... right." 

It's not that she didn't notice, she just dodged him. She thought there was more important things to do than let herself be conquered by some co-worker. But she was lying if she said he wasn't winning her over.

He also was so her type.

The funky hair, the spikes on his leather vest, the stickers and carvings on his guitar, his Iggy Pop vibes and his weird slang. But he thought he was so it, he was a nice guy but he needed some humbling. Their first conversation was about Bowie, and he played her a bit of Moonage Daydream as she recalled when she saw him live, getting all starry eyed whenever she'd narrate the part where she gave him a ride in her car.

"You gave Bowie a ride?"

"Spider's Tour, yeah..." She giggled, flipping her hair in a way that had him starstruck. "In my mom's car."

"In your mum's car? Oh get out." She went on to talk about how that changed her view on music, going on about her gigs in New L.A and how she moved there to make it big. 

Hobie was sure he was listening, but as much as he tried to contain himself, keeping in comments was not in his book.

"You always dress this mad? Like, all the time?" He bursted out with a smile, cutting her off. They were sitting on a counter table, with his guitar on his lap. He leaned closer to pick on the fabric of her coat. 

"Always. Do you always dress so pretentious?" She retorted with a smug grin, pushing her hair out of her face. His eyes shot up to look at her, puzzled. "I mean, aren't you like... rebelling against society?" Hobie let out a slight laugh, his head tilting in interest as he looked into her eyes. 

"Well, yea'. Why?"

"Don't you think it would be more of an act of rebellion if you didn't spend so much time buying stickers and pins and going out to get punky clothes? Stop me if I'm being offensive, I think the style's hip, but it just seems counterproductive to your cause."

"Na' its cool, keep going." He struggled to discern if he was actually listening, or simply invested in watching her mouth smart words as her long painted nails tapped on the counter.

"You want to be an individual, but it's like you wear a uniform. It's just punk fashion, not rebellion." Hobie's eyes fixated on her's, leaving a strong silence as she ended her phrase. 

"I'm not judging you, just kind of a general critique to what they call punk movement."

Hobie brushed her off with his usual humorous comments to maintain his pride, but he was dazzled. Even if she had criticized his way of thinking and how he dressed, she was so outspoken, without caring what he had to say or thought about her opinion, and he was crazy for his first impression of her, as much as he hated to admit it as he'd call 'Love is for posers'. Hobie was sure he was just trying to win her over, to prove a point he'd say, but deep down he loved the way she smiled and shook her head whimsically everytime he'd say something or take time off his schedule to nag her.

It was a few times that she gave Hobie the chance to play with her, to which she soon learnt that he did not know how to read tabs. Of course the punk kid is self-taught. Trying to lead, they would play messy numbers and solos. It was ocasionally just her and Gwen, who had let YN grown onto her sharing her love for girl bands, doing some jamming with their instruments as Hobie payed vague attention. But he would pound on any chance to be alone with her and try to take her out.

She didn't know what was in her that day, but she let him take her out.

He toured her around his universe, before taking her to what he called "his palace". 

The small canal boat was ridiculously a very Hobie place to live. If she were to guess, she'd think he lived in a tree somewhere in Birmingham. However it had it's charm, it was very humid and it wobbled when they walked, but it was unique and she loved it. Hobie showed her the collection of things he had stolen, proving himself to be a brilliant thief. He owed most of his 'talent' to his Spider-Sense and speed, but he'd never bring it up. 

As she sat on the mattress where he slept in, Hobie picked up one of his records, sitting beside her to show her the signed insides of the vinyl. Her eyes paced from the inscriptions to his face, as he ocasionally caught a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. He left the vinyl aside to go on about his encounters with the infuential musicians on the area, how he attempted to steal the microphone the Bowie of his dimension had used when he was touring in his city. Her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips back and forth. 

He was hesitant about making a move, afraid he'd mess up what had taken him so much work. But wasn't even given time to think it through before the proximity between them grew, and her hand softly caressed his bony cheek and down to his neck, inviting him to lean into a kiss. As they made out, his cold piercing was quickly warmed by her damp tongue and soft lips that sucked and kissed his. His hands caressed up and down her waist, undoing the buttons on her blouse with his slender fingers as she revealed her naked torso, no bra underneath. YN did her usual hair flip to watch him undress her, and himself, jumping on her once finished to continue what he had briefly interrupted.

"We won't sink, will we?" She asked between soft giggles as the boat quivered at his abrupt movement, Hobie nibbling down her neck and kissing her chest. 

"I wank pretty crazy here every night, we won't." He teased before crawling backwards, kissing down her navel. 

songs i listened to while working on this:

(ofc) arabella - arctic monkeys

moonage daydream, lady grinning soul and starman - bowie

hey, velouria - pixies

rhiannon, gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

[mythicalmyles]

Masky, Hoddie or Toby (You decide) with a hippie m reader ✨😤🫶🏻

Punk!Masky x Femboy!Hippie!Reader x Punk!Hoodie their implied demons

Guns/noncon/bottom male/degradation/feminization/cameras

The lake was welcomingly cold as you dipped your feet into it, the feeling of the flowers blowing in your hair was therapeutic. The sun was warm as you tilted your head back, eyes closed and soaking in the suns rays. Lately it seemed harder and harder to get yourself out here, despite living less then an hour away. The normalities of life always seemed to intercept your journey here lately, the last time had been two months ago.

The wind lightly blew at your skirt, the ruffled fabric rubbing against your thighs. A loud twig snapping had you spinning around, eyes searching the forest. Luckily the forrest only had black bears, at least you had a chance. However if it was a pissed off moose you considered your life already over, you had always been on the naive side of things. Convinced if you minded your business then everything else would leave you alone.

You stood up on shaky legs and quickly slid your shoes back on, making sure to keep darting your eyes around the forest. Part of you was annoyed, it was the only place you had been able to freely be yourself and now it felt like it was about to be ripped out from right under your feet. Your instincts kicked into overdrive, you felt like a tiny mouse backed into a corner.

You should’ve payed closer attention to your other side. A heavy body suddenly had you being shoved to the ground, whining as you hit the ground.

Your mind whirled when you heard the clicking of metal, ice flowing through you as the sound of a gun being cocked next to you overrode your brain. Panicked eyes turned to see the cause, the barrel of a gun filling your vision and trapping you still. Stones and broken branches dug into your thighs but you couldn’t take your eyes off of the gun. Your entire body quivered when you shakily looked up to see a masked man.

You didn’t need to stand to know the Goliath of a man was easily double your size, your breathing was shaky. Your mind was entirely frozen. The sound of a camera going off behind you felt like a bullet as you quickly flipped yourself over to see another man, his mask seemed impossibly black with red eyes and a big frown stitched on. You whimpered and pushed yourself back only to feel stone cold metal pressing against your now exposed ass.

Your eyes never left the gun as he used it to push your skirt up further. “N-no.” Was all you could choke out with a whimper, drawing a chuckle from both of the men currently standing over you. Tears dripped from your eyes as you looked up at the man with a frown, his camera set on you as his friend used his gun to dig into your ass. He intently watched as the gun made indents in your ass, biting his lip under his mask as he teased you. The sight of you shaking beneath him, so easily accessible had nasty thoughts running through Masky’s mind.

You let out a scream when Hoodie suddenly darted forward, his leather clad hands gripped your wrists tight as he yanked you up. You begged and sobbed until Masky’s gun pressed into your cheek. “It’s cute hearing you beg like a good bitch.” Masky’s voice was incredibly gruff, sending warmth to you stomach that you cursed.

Hoodie tied your hands behind your back, as Masky slipped his gun into your mouth. You whined around the metal as you sobbed openly, Masky wasted no time sliding the metal into your throat. He watched you without blinking as he fucked your mouth with his gun, you struggled against the rope Hoodie had bound your arms with.

“Well, theres no point in hiding.” Masky smirked as he pulled his mask off, dropping it to the ground. He had a few piercings and tattooes covering his face, you would’ve found him attractive if he didn’t currently have a gun lodged down your throat. You hated it but you could feel your own cock twitching under your skirt. “Look how hard she is.” Masky’s tone was mocking as he pulled your skirt up, Hoodies rough hands grabbing your biceps hard enough to bruise to keep you still.

You tried to turn away but Hoodie’s hand was quick to wrap around your throat, keeping you pinned in place. “Ple-please don’t do this.” You sobbed out, feeling petals fall from your hair and down your shirt. “But you made yourself so easy for us.” Masky chuckled, dark eyes pinning you in place. Masky’s hands carefully listed your shirt, dragging his leather clad fingers against your skin. His free hand kept the gun pointed under your jaw, giving you no option but to submit to the men currently having their way with you.

You gasped when Masky’s finger began circling your nipple, arching back into Hoodies strong chest. They both towered over you, Hoodie using one hand to keep you pinned to his chest while his other played with your other nipple. Desperate whines flew from you, your cock leaking precum. The rough leather of the gloves sent sparks running up your spine, dizziness enveloping your mind. Suddenly Masky was putting his gun back into its holster, freeing up both of his hands to grab and tug at your flesh.

Your face burned with shame as you moaned, Masky pulled your shirt over your head, leaving your arms trapped. The tight material of the shirt pulled your shoulders back, causing your chest to push out. You felt unbelievably weak completely defenceless between the two men.

You wanted to plead again for them to stop, instead biting your lip as you knew it’d only spur them on. Masky was groping your chest, his fingers squeezing and pulling your nipples. Both men relished in the moans they forced from you, Masky had to take a moment to appreciate your fucked out expression, his hands gripping your cheeks. All you could do was stare up at him with teary eyes as he examined your face. Tears dripped down your cheeks and your hair was stuck to your face, flowers that once lay neatly in your hair were now torn and you were left with petals tangled into your locks.

“Atta boy.” Hoodie praised, hand rubbing your stomach as your body finally dropped in their hold, submitting. You knew you had no use in fighting, and it’d only hurt you in the end. The feeling of fingers sliding into your hole had you tensing back up, yelping loudly as two digits began roughly slamming into your virgin hole. It burned but his long, thick fingers easily found your prostate. He was set on slamming into it, your screams echoing through the forest. “A-ah fuh-fuck!” You elled as you came, body curling into itself as Hoodie forced you through an orgasm.

You fell into Masky’s chest sobbing, wailing louder when he pulled your ass apart, spreading you open and allowong Hoodies fingers to dig deeper into you. You choked on the drool flooding your mouth, eyes rolling as your body was assaulted with pleasure. Your fingers had never gotten this deep and it wasn’t long before your overstimulated cock was back standing at attention, Masky’s thigh wedged between your legs. Your cock scrapped against his rough jeans, leaving your breath stuttered as the scratchy material ran against your balls and thighs. Hoodie slipped another finger into you, barley wasting a breath before roughly fucking you with them. Your thighs squeezed around Masky’s, high pitched keens leaving you as Hoodie fucked into you hard enough with his fingers to push you harder against Masky’s thigh.

“Fuck the slut already.” Masky growled out, Hoodie chuckled as he pulled his fingers out roughly. The squeal that left you went straight to both of their cocks, surprised either of them had managed to hold off for so long.

Their patience had worn thin though and Hoodie wasted no time in burying his cock into you. You voice caught in your throat resulting in you choking, shaking on Masky’s chest as Hoodie bottomed out. He felt impossibly large, his cock stretching more then you every thought could be done. Masky pressed his lips against yours, tongue easily sliding into your dropped mouth. He wasted no time in lapping his tongue around your mouth, the taste of you driving him insane as he swallowed every whimper Hoodie fucked out of you.

“He can’t take both of us, look at him with just my cock. Bet you like it though, right slut?” Hoodie grunted the most depraved things into your ear, arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel your drool soaking into Masky’s shirt. “Such a good little slut, letting me fuck your tight little pussy.” You tried to protest, Hoodies words embarrassing you yet twisting something deep inside.

Hoodie didn’t think he’d last longer with your ass clenched tight around his cock, every time he pulled out your body resisted, trying to pull him back in and it drove him insane. He railed into you hard, insistent on emptying hiss balls deep into your stomach. It almost felt painful, his cock brushed right against your prostate. Every drag of his cock had you crying out, arching your back.

You came again, broken sobs flying from your lips as your body turned to jello. Hoodie couldn’t take how tight you got around him, his own eyes rolling back as he shot his load straight into your stomach. You could feel it flowing into you, his cum causing your belly to bulge further. All you could do was sob as you looked at your swollen stomach, your cock twitching with pain after being dragged through multiple orgasms.

You barley had time to recover before Masky pulled you into his arms, making you wrap your legs around his waist. “You should be able to take me now.” His words left you shaking, you could barley take what you had already been given. Masky moaned when he heard your high pitched please’s to stop. “Thats it baby boy, beg nice n good for me.” You felt trapped, anytime you tried to stop him it just seemed to invigorate him.

Masky seemed even rougher then Hoodie, slamming deep into you and bouncing you on his cock. Your loud wails and moans bounced back to you, leaving you certain anyone in a hundred mile radius would hear you moaning with overstimulation. Masky grunted loudly in your ear, biting down onto your neck and drawing blood as he roughly bounced you on his cock.

Hoodie pulled his camera back out, taking pictures of Masky railing into you like a ragdoll. His muscles bulged as he bounced you restlessly on his cock. You wondered if it’d ever be over. Masky’s large hands grasped your ass, bunching your skirt up at your waist. Hoodie got some nice pictures of his dear friends cock sliding deep into your hole, your panties pulled to the side to accommodate Masky’s cock.

Your arms were wrapped around Masky’s shoulders, sobbing into the crevice of his neck as he abused your hole. Masky fucked Hoodies cum out of you, it dripped in globs from your puffy hole. Hoodie moved closer, taking pictures and using two fingers to spread you open causing more of his cum to come dripping out.

Masky suddenly slammed deep into you, his cum flowing through you. You almost felt like you were going to be sick as you felt Masky blow his load into you.

You felt practically no shame in openly crying when Masky dropped you to the floor. He used his foot to shove you onto your stomach, using his boot to press into the flesh of your ass and spread your ass cheeks. He groaned at the sight of your abused hole, dripping blood and cum. He could hear Hoodie snapping up pictures, Masky grinned as he pulled out his knife and sliced through the rope. You couldn’t help the moan that left when you were finally freed, blood quickly rushing back to your hands. “Get up.” Masky had no patience, instead grabbing you up. “Spread yourself for the camera.” You tried to plead only to end up with a harsh smack to your ass. You whimpered and quickly turned around. “Wait.” Masky mumbled, pulling your panties down to rest under your ass. He pushed to fingers into you and you sobbed loudly, the sound of Hoodie’s camera going off being blocked from your mind.

[loveshotzz]

Punk!Steve Harrington x fem!goth reader

She’s Automatic

Summary: you’re always hot and cold but Steve can’t seem to get enough.

Warnings: 18 plus (no minors), weed smoking, mentions of drinking, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up), cream pie. Steve has nipple piercings 😈 the picture in the banner is not representative of readers skin tone, just used for aesthetic purposes. No skin tone is mentioned in this story.

Word count: 1.7k

Authors note: punk!steve has had me in a chokehold for weeks now. This is what you get because of it. Thank you to my wife @myobmaya for her laundry list of ideas. Also just wanted to thank @multiwongi for being nice enough to let me use their punk!steve edit in my banner, they have the best edits of him. Go follow!

Steve wanted you, making it more then obvious every time he’d drag his clearly very over stimulated friend to the bar. Hazel eyes lined with black always greedily taking in your curves. Watching the way you’d stretch and bend down behind the bar in tight leather skirts and cut up shirts leaving little to the imagination. Lug boots coming up to your thighs fishnets always covering the rest.

You entertained Steve’s flirting some nights, noticing the way his eyes would always catch the silver metal of your tongue piercing. It was fun to watch him get flustered when you’d lay it on just as thick. Even with his menacing appearance he was just another fumbling boy. On other nights you’d treated him as if he was nothing but a fly on the wall, going about your job like he wasn’t desperate to catch your attention. Never knowing what version of you he was going to get, the chase kept him hooked.

It had been a particularly long day, already staring down the barrel of an even longer night when Steve strutted up to bar. Lean legs covered in a pair of ripped black jeans, the snug fit leaving little to the imagination of what was underneath. His Leather jacket wrapped around his broad shoulders like butter, covered in patches of bands you’d never admit to him you liked. The white tank top underneath just sheer enough to see the outline of his hidden tattoos, a thick smattering of dark chest hair peaking out from the top. Pierced lips turning up into a smile, he had no idea tonight was finally his night.

“Well, well, well if it isn’t my knight in shining armor.” Kicking it off with a lean over the counter and a flutter of your lashes. Steve’s eyes widen not expecting you to be so warm. The last time he was here you’d ignored any sound of his voice, finally settling for Robin to order the drinks to which you responded to her almost immediately.

“Oh? I’m not a mute today?” Taking a seat on the stool in front of you, his tone is teasing but the smirk on his face tells you that you could ignore him any day of the week, and he’d still come crawling back just for you to look at him like this.

“Aww did I hurt your feelings Steve?” Giving him puppy eyes you jut out your black stained lip. “I didn’t mean it, sometimes I just like to be mean to boys. Nothing personal, promise.” Flashing him a devilish grin, his Adam’s apple bobs under his skin.

“I think I might be able to find it in my heart to forgive you gorgeous.” The blunt ends of his chipped black nails drum against the counter, his pink tongue darting out to play with the hoops sitting on the side of his bottom lip. “A think a shot of whiskey and a beer should really seal the deal.”

You knew the metal head he’d bring in here sometimes sold weed or at least had access to it, always smelling like he’d spent his whole day in a hot box. Your mood had you desperate for something the wasn’t liquor and Steve was probably your best shot.

“I’ve got a proposition for you.” Pushing yourself closer on your tippy toes, Steve’s breath catches in his throat.

“I’m-I’m listening.” Coughing into the back of his hand he tries to cover the nerves in the cracks of his voice.

“I’ve had a super shitty day, and there’s nothing I’d love more than a giant fat blunt.” Popping the T with emphasis you watch his eyes glaze over. “I bet someone like you could help me out with that yeah?”

Nodding eagerly you have to bite back your smile. “Maybe after work? I’ll help you out with these drinks, and can you help me out with my needs?” Looking up from under the hood of your lashes you trace your top lip with the tip of your tongue.

Eyes catching the metal in your mouth in it’s full form, he has to bite back his moan at the thought of what it would feel like against his skin.

Steve’s quick to nod, his love sick smile sealing the deal and with a wink you go and get him those promised drinks.

—

One short trip on the L and a half smoked blunt later is how you end up riding Steve’s porn star sized cock. In nothing but your fishnets with a hole ripped in the crotch courtesy of him, you bounce on it with the kind of vigor that has his toes curling at the end of his bed.

Blunt dangling from your lips your nails rake through his smattering of chest hair, eyes hungrily taking in the ink that covered almost every inch of his naturally sun kissed skin. The metal bars in his nipples catch in the glow of the TV in his room, a stream of late night music videos forgotten. Taking a long drag you roll your hips in a circle purposely clenching yourself around the base of him. Nails digging into the tops of your thighs, a breathy “shit” falls from his lips.

“That feel good or something baby?” Exhaling your hit in a giggle Steve’s cock twitches inside of you at the pet name, the deep forrest green and ocean blue of his eyes over come with the darkness of his pupils. You felt better then every late night fantasy he’d tugged himself to since he met you.

“God, you’re like fucking heaven.” Pussy drunk he starts babbling hips lifting off the bed to meet yours. “So fucking soft.” Thrust “tight” thrust “and wet.”

As if on queue the sounds of your slick squelching against his skin has a guttural groan rip through his throat. One hand pressing down firmly on his chest you push him flat against the mattress. Despite his stuttering hips he still listens taking your silent direction.

Watching you with expectant eyes as you lean forward. Taking the blunt from between your lips your black lipstick stains the end, touching the velvet of his bottom one with it you encourage him to take it. Big obedient eyes look up at you before wrapping his mouth around it, the heat of his tongue flicking against your finger tips as his cheeks hollow out taking a rip. Eyes rolling in the back of his head when his actions are enough to make you moan, the pretty sounds he earns only egging him on.

Dragging your nails across his skin you make sure to catch the small bars keeping his nipples at attention, lightly tugging as you go. Jaw clenching at the sensation, smoke seeps from around the blunt as his eyes screw shut.

Smirking at the mess you’re making of him, you dip your head down to collect one of his piercing in the heat of your mouth. Metal against metal his hips buck up hard enough for you to mewl around him. Grinding down while you nip at him with your teeth, a string of cuss words come spilling out from underneath.

Moving to the next one, you give it it even more attention. Swirling your tongue around the bar, the tip traces up the length of the metal flicking the sensitive nub of his nipple every time you move over it.

“Jesus - fuck.” Throwing his head back against his pillow, he takes the forgotten blunt out of his mouth half hazardly disposing of it in the ashtray next to you.

Too caught up to think about manners his long fingers tangle in your hair, yanking you up. Lips swollen from their assault on his chest he collects them in a searing kiss. Tongue immediately begging for entrance swiping it across the piercing of your lower lip.

Steve catches the your moan in his throat when your tongues battle for dominance in a sloppy mess of teeth and spit, his hands finding purchase on your hips. Fingers digging in hard enough to bruise flesh he pushes himself deep enough to hit the spot that has you trembling on top of him.

“Yeah? Right there?” Breaking from you long enough to be cocky, he doesn’t give you a chance to answer pulling you down even harder bringing him completely to the hilt of you.

“Fuck - Steve!” Shocked by how good he’s making you feel, the dynamic shifts when he feels your walls start to suck him deep enough to know you’re close.

“Say it again baby, tell everyone who’s making you feel this good.” The confidence dripping from his words has you throwing your head back, bottom lip sucked between your teeth.

The pad of his thumb hits your bundle of nerves applying enough pressure to have your legs shaking around his hips, a mumbling incoherent mess on top of him he wishes he could record this.

“Ignoring me for so long, such a bad girl. Could have been worshiping this pussy like it deserves. Such a perfect fucking cunt.” Jaw slack he watches you fall apart under half lidded eyes, completely consumed by the feeling of you.

“Steve - shit - right there, I’m so fucking close.” The whine in your voice is unrecognizable when his thumb starts sliding over your clit in quick figure eights, the sounds of skin slapping together as your slick walls suck him in fill the small confines of his room.

“Cum all over this cock baby, come on. Fall apart I wanna - fuck - feel it.” The encouragement of his words coupled with the snap of his hips is enough to send you flying off the edge, eyes squeezing shut your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Velvet walls sucking him in as your body shakes on top of him.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it.” Grunting you feel him twitch inside you before painting your insides in a way that feels like he’s marking you as his.

Too busy reeling from the aftershock of your orgasm to worry about how he was going to follow you around like a lost puppy after this, you slump down against his chest. The only sounds in the room are your panted breaths and the Ramones leaking from the small speaker of his TV.

Finger tips tracing down the dip of your spine, he gives your ass an appreciative squeeze, noticing the way you’re too spent to talk he can’t help himself never seeing you like this.

“Same time next week?”

Fighting the smile that’s threatening to tug up your cheeks, you mumble your response against his sweat covered chest.

“Don’t push your luck Steve.”

[sorbeau]

hi its me again i feel legally obligated to ask about your thoughts on the new riz design (but also extends to al of the other new art for the bad kids too!!!)

HI SHOKO sorry this took so long to asnwer, it feels a little late to the party now but I have lots of thoughts and this has been in my drafts for a hot minute so I'll break my thoughts down in order <3

Fig

GOD DO I LOVE FIG'S DESIGN. It hasn't changed too drastically in many ways, it's largely the same beats with the plaid skirt, leather jacket, biker gloves, and docs, but there's a lot more detail pertaining to her character now. Ayda's feather earring is abviously a huge win, everyone loves to see it, but I love the small details like the added wallet chain on her skirt, the added ear piercings, and her painted nails. If I had to choose something I didn't like, it'd be the color of her shoelaces, which isn't a huge deal bc you know spyre might have different cultural beats, but it's very reminiscent of punk doc lace codes, which were a way to sort of factionize yourself among punks. Fig wears one purple and one red, and traditionally purple means gay pride(which is great and i would've picked it for her too) but red usually means you allign yourself with neo-nazi's and similar groups which. is definitely Not Fig. It's not a HUGE deal but, maybe some more research could've been put into it.

Gorgug

Gorgug's new design is so. Perfect. Amazing. Spectacular. No notes. It's exactly the changes I wanted to see. The goggles, the dirt-covered face, the ripped jeans, the bags and tools, the gloves, the most disgusting worn pair of convers you've ever seen. It's absolutely amazing and the artist has managed to bring all the beats we loved about his original design(his extremely fashionable purple pants) and mixes them perfectly with all of the new facets of Gorgug's personality that have changed and grown theough their adventures. A little detail I love is how the color of his headphones has changed to match with the rest of his outfit better, creating a more cohesive design with the introduction of more red/maroon tones. This was always a little bit of an issue with the old design for me. The colors sort of didn't go together.

Kristen

She's going through a break up. She's at the most chaotic she's ever been and she's trying to fix it. It is so genius to make her jacked. The bright yellow tracksuit is beautiful and exactly something Kristen would buy and wear every day. Plus the tiedye purple sports bra tying in her old church camp shirt aesthetic is brilliant. I'm mourning the loss of her sandals, but the matching shoes to her tracksuit can't be complained about. Not a whole lot to say, I'm excited about how this design will change and reflect her growth this season! Praise Saint Kristen Applebees!!

Adaine

THE ELVEN ORACLE IS COOL NOW!!! I love her jacket, all the patches and the toned down fur lining is absolutely perfect. I also love the cool strapped bags on her hips and legs, it's just a really cool adventurer addition cementing her as a bad ass practical caster. Her entire face seems more assured and relaxed, which is absolutely amazing for her and reflects how her resting state is no longer as addled with panic and anxiety as it used to be. Her hair also seems a lot more her! Not sure how to describe it, but it seems like she's focusing less on keeping herself perfect, and more on just keeping herself, herself! Not very big design swings or changes, but she doesn't need to change, she just needs to be true to herself. (Also. a huge fan of her cool magic circle shirt.) My only gripe. Give her blue hair. And pronouns. And glasses pretty please.

Fabian

That boy is the future of dance!!!!!!!!!! I love the color palette shift for his design, it's a really great way to show how he's grown out of Bill's shadow and embraced his own passions with the grey tones with red and gold accents. Also a huge fan of the fancy robed pants, tons of great movement lines and something a dancer would totally wear. On the same note however, I feel like it doesn't really go with the rest of his outfit. I love how the changes made are geared towards movement and dance(his shoes changing from sneakers to dance shoes is great) but I feel like the changes are all sort of mismatched? The dance shoes look a lot like tap shoes, but the pants look more big and flowy, better for a more leaping and running style of dance, and his jacket has almost nothing to do with dance. It's delightfully artsy and detailed, which is so chic and Fabian, but the shapes of it don't really match up, and especially without a clear view of the front it makes him look like he's wearing half of a matador outfit. I would've loved to see a more dramatic silhouette without the use of the battle sheet(which is absolutely perfect, no notes) with either lots of flowy parts for movement, or a sharp jacket with skinnier pants for that exaggerated silhouette. Again, I think this is really all due to a lack of research, but the spirit of Fabian is still in the room with us. The colors are great, the bandages on his hands are perfect, and the fanciful element is very on point, just needs some better shape language and cohesiveness.

Riz

There he goes, he's gone from gritty detective to gadget-heavy superspy. I LOVE the character choices that Murph made for Riz, he's become even more of a loser and seems a lot less hard and fast, and more generally passionate. In freshman and sophomore year, he was entirely goal oriented, completely focused on completing his mission and solving the mystery, this time around he's still got a mission, but because he can't do it all himself, he's sort of given the opportunity to branch out and explore himself. This is all to say, i love the insufferable loser hipster kid that he's become. He is truly the trinket goblin of all time, I love all his wild little gadgets and jewelry, and all the extra arcano-tech screens on his glasses are brilliant. I'm also a huge fan of his torso gun-holdster, which is a beautiful homage to his detective nature. The undercut is also obviously perfection. The loser teen-boy urge to cut away your beautiful hair for a nerdy undercut is so painfully lore accurate that it's one of my favorite details. It's probably because he's a dork. but I would love to know why he has rolled up pants and no socks. What is that. Why would he do that. ALSO STOP BEING A COWARD D20. GIVE HIM DIGITIGRADE LEGS AND A TAIL. CAT GOBLIN TRUTHERS UNITE!!!!!!!!!!

anyways that's probably the end of my rant for now. I love the bad kids and overall their designs are great. constantly wishing all of my headcannons were real but understanding that the cannon will never relent.

[eezeybreezy]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀᴛ ➜ʜᴏʙɪᴇ ʙʀᴏᴡɴ x ɢɴ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I have fallen to the Hobie brain rot and this is the result. This was a lot longer than intended so now it's broken into multiple chapters! Lmk if I should post those too or if this is too cringe.  Part 2, Part 3, Part 4🔞

warnings: suggestive, not-so-accurate accent, recreational drug/alcohol use, partying, punk shit, eventual smut? 

As they entered the headquarters, the pair were met with a cacophony of sound and movement. People in spider suits and uniforms hurried to and fro, carrying files, and talking urgently on their phones or to each other. Clearly, this was a place of importance, filled with sensitive work and decisions.

The first was a young woman, her hair pulled back into a high ponytail and dressed in a long, flowing maxi skirt in earthy tones, paired with a crochet top. Adorned with beads or other natural details, she walked confidently, looking around with a sharp eye and taking in every detail. The second was a young man, his steps a little slower and his gaze mellow. He was dressed in a concoction of ripped fabrics, belts, and buttons, his studded vest and chunky boots a signature in the halls they walked.

"Wow," breathed the woman, taking in the bustling scene. "I knew this was a big deal, but I had no idea.."

The man chuckled. "Told you it was the real deal."

The Spider you’d come to know was none other than Hobie Brown, a stand-out among his peers and variants alike. You’d only met after being rounded up as an anomaly, though you’d come to the HQ willingly, as any means to getting home was better than being stranded in some uppity renaissance dimension. After learning of your role as the Black Cat in your world, the punk had found a new friend in an unexpected place.

“Hm…” Hobie peered at you absentmindedly, seemingly turning something over in his head.

You didn’t like that look, and knowing the kinds of ideas an anarchist could come up with, you decide to pry, “What’s up?”

Hobie finally looked at you and not through you, “How did you get those abilities bruv like, I was bit by a radioactive spider so I have spider DNA in me, but how’d you get ‘em?”

“Hear me out, a cat bit me. But she wasn’t radioactive or anything, actually quite sweet.”

“Wait wait wait, you ‘ere bitten… by a cat? And you now have abilities like me??”

You giggled at this, he’s dumbfounded over a cat but a radioactive spider giving powers is the norm around here. “I don’t know about ‘like you’ per say.’

“Aight, maybe not exactly like me, but it’s similar yeah? You have wall-crawling abilities I presume or am I wrong? And probably enhanced strength?”

Why the sudden interest in my abilities, you thought. “I mean I do have enhanced strength and speed, but I can only climb up walls with my claws, I don’t stick like you all do,” referring to the bustling crowd of Spider-people you found yourself in the presence of.

“I see, then I have one last question… What does your suit look like? I’m proper curious ‘bout that.”

Now this was unexpected, not only was he interested in your powers, but your alter ego altogether. In the few months, you’ve been friends, little was spoken about your homeworld, let alone the role you play in that dimension. You wonder what’s gotten him so interested, and so you decide to tease a little, getting Hobie Brown flustered was something very few could boast.

“You ever been to a BDSM club? It’s like a leather dominatrix suit

“…” “That’s… huh.”

“Problem ‘Obie?” You poke at him playfully, gliding to stand closer to the slender man.

“Not at all… can’t say I’m not confused though…” he trailed off. “But hey, as your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man it’s not my problem that you have an… um… interesting taste in fashion.”

That got a snort out of you, “You’re one to talk about ‘interesting taste in fashion’, Mr. Spider Punk.”

A sigh comes from the taller man. “Fine. You win.”

Deciding to toy with him further, you play nonchalant and petty, “If I’m so annoying I’ll just leave then. I enjoyed meeting you Punk.”

“Oi oi, I didn’t mean to insult you, I swear… I'll be 'onest wiv ya, mate. I don't really know what I'm doin' 'ere. I'm just takin' it one day at a time and seein' where it takes me.” He looked up from the ground to look at you again, something sad in his eyes. “Life's a funny old game, ain't it?"

“The rockstar runway model is bad with people? Color me shocked”

Hobie let out a huff of air, which you could only assume mimicked a laugh, “Is that meant to be an insult or genuine criticism?”

“I was being serious Hobie, you seem to have a good handle on people. You’re just so cool I thought maybe you’d have it down by now” Despite wanting to crawl into a hole at your admission, you said it with your chest, and you’re not about to back out now.

He’s quite surprised by this, not anticipating such a blatant compliment from you. “Huh… you’re actually pretty rad yourself. Most people don’t think that and just call me a freak.”

“I mean I’d say I’ma freak too but that hasn’t gotten me any complaints if you know what I mean.” You say with a wink, deciding to lay it on thick.

He smirks at you, catching the vibes you're putting down quickly. “Oh, I understand what you mean. I just didn’t expect you to be this forward luv.”

“What’s the phrase? ‘You miss 100% something something-”

“You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take?”

“Yeah yeah somethin like that”, you past your giggles. “You tryna get out of here?”

Hobie looks at you almost sideways, and if you didn’t know him better, you’d be put off by the glare. “Get out of here and do what exactly? What’re you planning?” He takes a step towards you, covering more ground than you’d anticipated due to his long strides. He was so close.

“I’m not dumb, I can tell you’re trying to trick me into something, but I’m not quite sure what…”

You smile at that, despite telling the truth, he’d managed to tease you in the process. We’re in the clear. “No trick here, not today at least.”

You look at him through thick lashes, “Did you have any ideas Spidey?” you ask coyly.

The punk chuckles,

“Ah, the ol’ playing coy shtick ‘uh? Not that I have anything against it, honest with you I kinda like it.”

Your tone is drenched in sarcasm, “Me? Coy? What kind of women do you take me for?” You’re feigning being offended, and he continues your banter. He laughs in a friendly way, deeply and honestly, a sound you wish was heard more often by the masses.

“Oh trust me you’re not like the other girls. You’re cool.”

“I’m not like other girls,” you say mockingly, trying to keep him amused. “So, what’s the punk down to do?”

Hobie’s face lights up with excitement, “I know just the place. Ever been to a punk rock show? There’s always tons of wankers to hang out with and it’s basically a Beano with loud ass music.”

You’d know about Spider-Man in front of you’s reputation, his subtle flex of eclectic success was something you’d come to admire about him. “I’ve had my fair share of underground events, though I’d call myself more goth than punk, you ever been to a goth club? I’m down to go to one of your shows if the anarchist is down to do some substances with me.”

He perked up at this. “Hell yeah, I’d be down, I love partying. Although, can I ask what kind of… substances you’re planning on using? I wanna make sure I bring the right shit.”

“Fuck no nothing hard, just weed and drinks will do it for me. That’s pretty stereotypical punk shit tho huh?”

“Yeah, well stereotypes exist for a reason. Though the whole ‘punks are stoners’ stereotype always bothers me, I never got why people think punk = drug abuse…” He shrugs.

The hair feels heavier, don’t kill the mood now! “ Well I do love me some weed, and hell yeah it’d be great to drink with you and have fun.” You keep going, hoping to bring that light back to the spider that was there but a moment ago. “I think the whole stereotype thing is stupid, but I totally understand why it doesn’t make sense to you, hating labels and all that.” You punctuate the end of your sentence with a punch to his shoulder.

“Alright, lead the way ‘Obie!”

He chuckles a bit at that, and playfully shoves you back into the portal he’s opened. You always land on your feet as you enter his dimension with a thud. He’s crouched next to you, standing to take off his mask and tuck his suit away.  

“What was that for huh? I know you can punch ‘arder than that.”

He closes the portal and starts walking towards the club, throwing you a glance over his shoulder. He beckons you to follow. “It’s just up this way, hopefully, there won’t be too big of a crowd.” His guard is down now, it’s just you and Hobie Brown, not Spider-Punk and Black Cat, just two “civs” kickin it.

“If you’re down to spar I can show you more than a little punch Bee.” You send a wink at Hobie, hoping the new nickname didn’t make him uncomfortable. “And hey! I thought you were a celebrity, don’t get special treatment even in the underground huh?”

Hobie smirks at that, “Hah. You’re funny.” He peers down at you, despite your above-average stature. “So you wanna spar then? Because now I’m very tempted to see what you can do.” He’s being cheeky, you can hear it in his tone.

Oh, this man was dangerous, and you can’t help the sly smile that makes its way to your face. “Oh, I’d love to show you everything I can do.” You’re sultry now, biting your lip as you gaze up at him.

“Damn, you’re a cocky little cat huh?” He shakes his head laughing, but can’t hide the big smirk forming on his face.

“Don’t think I won’t accept your challenge, because I will…”

“Oh? Is that so? What’s the punk challenging me to do exactly?” You step closer, still looking up at the man, with a smug grin on your face.

“Oh, I think you know…” He smirks at you and steps closer. “Or should I remind you?”

You grab him by his guitar strap, pulling him down until your lips almost touch. “It must’ve slipped my mind, Bert.” You emphasize his name teasingly.

Despite the way your eyelids flutter shut, and how your lips seem to draw each other in, he chuckles and gives you a quick kiss on the lips, still very clearly smug.

“I’m glad I could remind you.”

[luxxtuxx]

WAIT CUTE IDEA hobie could be talking to pav and the topic of reader comes up, Hobie starts ranting about how cool she is (all fluff and stuff) and reader comes up walking totally oblivious and pav says “speak of the devil” and she’s worried he was taking sour of her but pav reassured her it was all good things while Hobie is just kinda baffled by her beauty until he snaps out of it and covers pavs mouth so he doesn’t spoil his big fat crush on her

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!

This is a hobie X Fem Reader.

CW: Pav missing social cues and almost spilling the beans to YN

Im sorry if I spelled pavitrs GFs name wrong. My autocorrect won't let me change it

~~~~~~~~

Hobie watched the girl he loved do tiktok dances with gwen, watching her laugh and cheer. He watched as she struggled with a fast pace dance, seeing how today she was in the 3-inch, knee-high platform hot pink boots he bought her for her birthday. Her outfit looked adorable, A white top with a panda on it, a black and pink plaid skirt, ripped-up black tights, her boots, with a cute fluffy black purse

Pavitr walked over and looked at hobie confused "Hey Dude! Why are you pink? And why are you staring at Y/n and gwen?" he tilted his head confused. It took a second "OH MY GOD YOU LI-" hobie quickly moved and covered Pavi's mouth as Y/N looked their way.

He huffed, "Stay quiet man. she can't know" He growled at him. Pav cheers "Awwww that's so cute! if you ask her out, we could have a double date with me and Gaytari!" Hobie looked at his Indian friend with a frown. "Bruv cant. She is so much better than me" The punk sighs.

"What makes you think that? he asked sitting next to the tall punk. Hobie looks at Pav like he is offended. "Bruv, Have you seen her?" he sighs a bit "Those gorgeous eyes, and her colorful style, her never-ending kindness, Oh and have you seen the way she takes care of Mayday." he stared at the ceiling, "her voice... just her saying hi makes me all happy, I don't get it. I don't know how she has such a hold on me. Every time she looks at me I fall farther in love." He growls "Im not supposed to be soft or mushy or sweet, But she makes me feel that way. And I hate it and love it at the time Ya know" he looked at Pav, who muttered to him "Speak of the devil"

Y/n walks over, "Good morning, pav I thought you were spending the day with Gaytari." Pav hums "I was until I got talking with hobie about his crush" hobie quickly hit his arm "-INg new song!" She could tell Pav was lying "That was great, really good show stopper now the truth"

Hobie was quick to make a cover "Truth is umm, Pav was trying to rally people together to go to that ice cream place you always talk about" He sighs calming down when she bought that lie. "Oh COOL ILL GO ASK GWEN AND MILES" The second she walked off hobie turned red "YOU ALMOST TOLD HER" Pav ran away at the dark voice and hobie chased him

Bonus:

Hobie and the squad sat at your favorite ice cream parlor happily nomming down on the ice cream. Y/n had picked a flavor for everyone, "Mm! Hobie try this" She held her cone near his lips, And at his actions, she gasps. "HE BIT MY ICE CREAM! ARE YOU CRAZY?!" she moved gwen in between them, all of them joking around as hobie watched her joke and thought (I am crazy.... Crazy in love with you)

[silent-raven13]

When Hobie gets drunk

The Spider Band decided to go to one of Hobie's kickback parties. Well, it's one of his bandmate's kick back party, there's alcohol, weed, and other crazy stuff for the teenagers to have a good time. For once, the Spider Band had their day off taking the opportunity to be teenagers. The group put on their best punk outfit to fit into Hobie's world, just so they avoid looks.

Gwen grins widely having to wear plaided cargo pants with many zippers, an oversize shirt with a vest, and thick combat boots: Man, this is gonna be fucking exciting! -she shakes Pav with excitement. Finally, she gets to enjoy partying with her friends after weeks of being Spider-heroes-

Pav being dizzy from Gwen shaking him: Ahahaha, ye-yeah! I really want to do fun beer games! -He wore a much simpler outfit; a black tank top with ripped slashes around and skinny blue jeans with chains. The outfit works with rock boots.-

Margo smirks at Gwen: Hahaha, you're excited to get shitfaced, huh? -wearing a more Androgynous outfit; a long half skirt that is over black buckles black skinny ripped jeans, her tube top with fishnets and a thick belt slanted to the side of her wide hips. Her hair in thick locs with neon colors to stay true to her Spider Byte colors.-

Gwen blushes at Margo's smirk: Huh, ye-yeah! Come on, we finally got to enjoy ourselves. -the two noticed short knotted locs with red dye under their noses-

Spider Zeros: Yo! -she holds her Spiderling as she wore more a Gothic Punk style; a huge over size t-shirt with rip hems and certain parts with an asymmetrical collar stitched fish necks, one long fishnet glove from her arm to her hands, and a black fingerless glove on the other. She had thick big black buckled platform boots, with uneven stockings of black and red. Her makeup dark and dramatic with purple lipstick- What's good!

Pav: I keep forgetting how short you are!

Spider Zero: Excuse you! I am older than all of ya! -she huffs- Anyway, i heard there's free alcohol and join in! Where's Peni?

Gwen sighs: She's busy.

Spider Zero arched her eyebrows: Wow, so boring.

Margo: Hey, she's always working on her machines.

Miles spotted them: Hey guys! -Everyone stares at his outfit being surprised. Miles blushed being shy, his arm rub his other arm- Is is too much?

They squealed: Your so cute, Miles!

Gwen: OMG are you wearing a skirt!

Pav: Look at the lipstick!

Margo: Damn, Miles! I didn't know you like to dress up like that! -she giggles-

Spider Zero awed: Awe, you got to show off your tattoo!

Miles' cheeks felt super warm: Really? Thanks! I wanted to impress Hobie, since he's hardcore and... I'm just simple! -He went all out on his outfit: a red plaided half skirt with a cut to show the black one pants/short and tartan around his reavealing left thigh. His right leg being covered by the ripped one pant. He had on a shredded Hobie's band crop top and underneath the top is one layer of fishnets covering his his right arm to his tummy. The left arm with ripped up plaided sleeve purpose to cover only the forearm and hand. His revealing stomach had a heart shape buckle belt with studs and chains as decor. Then he had a black leather jacket from Hobie with patches and paint on it with words and slang around it. The same goes with his messily painted sunflowers on the sides on his Devil Games Mismatched combat boots. His face being covered with black lipsticks, and smokey red and black eyeshadow with white wing eyeliner. Put on a fake lip piercing, but had his earrings on.-

Gwen: Trust me, Hobie is gonna be so happy!

Hobie: OI! OI! Peter Pan! -the group heard their friend calling out for him. They turned their head toward the voice is coming from through the thick crowd of the underground warehouse party. They saw him walking so sloppy, so drunk!-

Miles gasps with a cute pout: Hobie, you got drunk before we got here!

Hobie finally noticed his boyfriend as he got closer. His vision was blurry as he pushed people out of his way, until his vision came clear when he saw his beaming Angel, his Sunflower: Miles? -he kinda slur his words-

Spider Zeros: A DOY! No shit Sherlock! -she rolled her eyes-

Hobie scowls: Eh, are you being a Xenophobic -his eyes at Zero-

Zero: No, it's an expression for no shit! -she grins- Anyway, I wanna get shitfaced! Right, Spiderling! -her spider happily nodded- Come on, let's drink!

Hobie look at his friends: Ya'll look freaking amazing -he turns to Miles- You look amazing, luv! -he holds his partner's cheek having to stare deep into his eyes like he was the only man in the party-

Miles smiles shyly feeling his cheeks warm again: Heh, thanks, bae.

Pav: Yeah, we should start partying! I finally got the chance to get wasted!

Hobie drunkily slouch on his Miles: The alcohol is that way -he use his thumb to point the area where all the alcohol is at- Come!

It wasn't long till the party went hard! Gwen challenging Hobie into shots. Margo cheering on Gwen while Pav cheer for Hobie. Zero drinks her beer watching with Miles. The young man had a red cup filled with alcohol, he took small sip. If he's honest, he hates alcohol. The taste is too bitter to him, he hates beer the most: Luv! Luv! Were you watching? -Hobie called for him-

Miles laughs: I am, bae! Wow, ten shots! That's crazy.

Hobie grins widely until Pav shouted: Holy Shit, Gwen! -She chugged a bottle of Vodka-

Margo cheers: Hahaha, I never knew you can hold your liquor, Gwen!

Gwen grins wildly being sluggish and slur her words: Ye-yeahh, I ams am'zing...

Miles laughs: Shit, she's gonna feel that in the morning.

Zero: Nah, she got white girl wasted, she can handle it!

Pav giggles having to get another round of shots ready: Miles! Come, join us!

Miles: Ohh, I dunno... I'm not that good with liquor!

Zero: Come on, man. Let's take a shot! -she nudges as her Spiderling slurps her cup with a straw as he rest on her shoulder-

Miles: Is he allowed to drink that?

Zero: Yeah, stop changing the subject.

Miles gave in: Alright. Hobie wanna take a hot with me.

Hobie already too drunk: YEAH! -being much hyper, more louder than his cool self- Let's do this! -The group got their shots to cheer and drink. Miles shudders at the vodka burning down his throat-

Miles: Ugh!

Hobie kisses his forehead being more clingy: It's alright, Brooklyn! You were great.

Gwen drunkly said: Ugh, ya two are always so lovey lovey! Makes me upset I got no one! -she slouches on Margo-

Margo: Whoa easy. Maybe you should take a little break.

Gwen pouts: Nuuhhh!

Margo: Yeeesss

Zero snorted: Oh brother...

Pav: Hehehe, will Ghostbyte happen?

Zero: A what?

Pav: Gwen is Ghost-spider and Margo is Spiderbyte. Ghostbyte.

Hobie chuckles still being drunk with his words: Wat's he talking' bout, darling? -he sat with Miles having his arms around his lover's shoulder-

Miles: Ship names! Pav, I let you watch one anime and now you're shipping everyone, man! -he chuckles-

Pav: Oh pfft, your just mad because I got to name Miguel and Peter, Spiderdads!

Zero: I like SpiderDaddies more.

Gwen hugs Margo being clingy: Ghostbyte!!! -Margo just laughs as she held Gwen to help her not fall-

Miles: And you couldn't find a name for you?

Pav snorted: Pfft me and Gayatri is easy! Pavitri! See! -he looks at Hobie and Miles- Hmm, I'll come up one for you two. It's hard since you got no specific Spiderman name.

Miles gasp: What? I have cool powers!

Zero: Hobie is easy. He's Punk Spiderman.

Hobie grunts: I don't call myself a punk, that's labeling me a-

Zero cut him off: Yeah, we get it. It's just that's how it is.

Pav: Hmmm, Hobie calls Miles, Sunflower- OH! PUNKFLOWER!

Margo listens: That's cute.

Zero nodded: Or Flowerpunk!

Gwen: I like -she burps as talks- that one! -still slouching on Margo-

Miles laughs: Okay, it's cute. Not gonna lie.

Hobie grunts: Who cares about labels, luv? It's not really us! You're my Sunflower! -he snuggle his partner- why should we care what others think of us?

Miles: I like it. -he chuckles- We got our secret ship names, bae.

Zero: Unless you're in Earth 1218, they already know your ships.

Pav: Oh, isn't that world where reality is soo real! Like their laws of nature is so powerful that their super-heroes don't exist- only through imagination! -He gasps with awe look on his face, and hands on his head-

Zero: Yeah! How did you know?

Hobie: This guy knows everything! He's always hearing the latest gossip at HQ!

Margo: And you can't tell him NOTHING! He's the first one to spread it!

Pav fake gasp: ME? How dare you!

Margo: It's true. You always instigating and being the first one to spread the word. Last time, I mention about Ben being in the pain in the ass and he quickly told everyone. Like, bro! -she laughs at Pam's expression-

Pav: To be fair, you also said to other Spiderpeople! -He laughs- Not my fault, Miguel got involved!

Zero: Man, that man is always up in everyone asses tho! He one time got mad because I didn't signed in or out.

Margo: But you go through multiverses?

Zero: I know!

Hobie: He's a control arse!

Gwen: Yeah, fuck Miguel! -being too drunk to care what she said-

Margo: Opp! I wouldn't say that.

Miles: Yeah, he's not all bad. He's like an old building that needs a clean up!

Pav: I see, FlowerFang happening! -Getting a dark glare from Hobie. Huh oh, jealous Hobie is back-

Zero: Ohhh, nice one!

Miles pouts: Nah, Pav. Now, you're being an instigator! I just think Miguel got some rough patches.

Margo: Before we continue this convo! Miles, I'm curious -she and Gwen sat down on chairs behind them. Gwen still cuddling against Margo- Like no offense, but- but would you?

Miles: Huh?

Pav laughs: And I'm the instigator, huh?

Margo: Oh hush!

Zero laughs: Now, we're getting to the juicy detail!

Hobie glares at them: Aye, are ya gonna disrespect me like this? In front of my face!

Margo hold her hands in defense: I'm just saying. Okay, let me be more honest. Would ya'll tap Miguel?

Everyone went silent except for Hobie with a scowl: No.

Margo grins: Why?

Hobie: Because he's a bloody bloke! A fucking pig within this whole society controlling all of us! What do you mean? Would you all do him! -his eyes widen in shock-

Zero: No! I'm Asexual and- that man got issues.

Margo: Paving is thinking pretty hard there, huh? Hey, you okay, bud?

Pav: What da fuck? I can't even think without you calling me out! -Zero laughs out loud-

Margo: It's like you're really thinking about it. Look, I'ma be honest. Miguel is a fine man... -she explains- We are not gonna sit here and lie about that, and he got some sweet cake. I mean, have you look at that man? -The group except for Hobie nodded with agreement. Hobie looks at Miles' who gave a slight nod-

Hobie: LUV!

Miles: What? I'm just agreeing that Miguel is handsome!

Pav: Look, I think I would if I wasn't in a serious relationship! -he spotted Zero about to say something to him- Considering- Considering we are all adults, so it should be fine! -he sips his drink-

Zero: So you would since your 18, now.

Pav: Ya! I mean, why not?

Margo: Lowkey, same. High key, only for a night stand, like have you seen that man's ass. Lord!

Zero: It's like two bouncing balls!

Pav: Gwen is all knocked out.

Gwen snoring in Margo's shoulders: Let her sleep. Anyway, Miles? Your opinion.

Miles: I'm in a relationship! I can't say that.

Hobie smirks: Yeah, he shouldn't think about it. -he slouch on his boyfriend-

Margo: Hypothetically speaking-

Hobie getting jealous: nah, fuck your hypo!

Zero and Pav laughs: He's mad mad, now!

Miles: Me and Hobie are in a great relationship! Why would I wanna think about another man?

Zero: Sheesh, loyal man.

Margo: But like imagine tho.

Hobie: Margo, your being a Pav!

Pav: Me! No, what da hell did I do?

Margo laughs: Relax, Hobs!

Hobie scowls having to go to his Miles: You know, I love you, right!

Miles blink surprised: Huh? Hobie, where-

Hobie got in front of his partner with his hands cupping his lover: I told you before I love you! I love you, mate! -his drunk self getting emotional-

Miles: I love you, too-

Zero: Wow, and three years strong!

Hobie being clingy to Miles: I love you, Sunflower! You know, that! I would fucking become a villain if you leave me or if anything happen to you! I'll fucking kill anyone who hurts you! I would be nothing without you, Miles! -kissing him on the lips and cheek-

Miles: Hobie, Hobie! Baby, you're drunk. Calm down!

Hobie: I love you, you're my baby! -he holds Miles in his arms- This is man is mine!

Miles never knew how clingy his boyfriend could get, even how easily tick off: Baby, I love you, too! -he hugs him back-

Hobie: I love you, MILES! You're my SUNFLOWER! -His arms wrapped around his Miles as they cuddle on the couch. Everyone laughs while Miles tries to calm his boyfriend down-

[powderblueblood]

Gimme a classic Ronnie and Eddie mess around! Like, what is their greatest conquest to date, what pranks/hijinks have they pulled over on the beleaguered people of Hawkins?

it's the eve of, y'know, that.

the big departure.

the long goodbye.

ronnie and eddie have started referring to it as phillip marlowe-ing in order to, y'know, skirt around the issue of her leaving for new york because it's not as if either of them are wont to express their feelings here, jesus christ. well, except in the case of--

"alright, RJ, i got one for ya. top five hawkins fuck yous, let 'er rip."

ronnie prrrfftts out a breath and nearly keels over in her rusted, rickety, fold-up lawn chair that they've perched in front of the ecker trailer. it's a balmy summer night and ronnie's full of beer and eddie's merging onto nostalgia boulevard.

"where could i possibly begin, dude?"

a hawkins fuck you is another colloquialism shared between 'em. because when ronnie and eddie pull off a prank, it's not just a prank. okay? it's a statement. this is something that ronnie insists upon, something eddie blames on her 'punk rat leanings', but the personal is political, okay! and you know what else is political?

"number five, naturally, we gotta go small and loving-- shakin' up a can of soda before we give it to gareth. it's fresh, it's funky, it's harmless."

cigarette ember gesticulating in the dwindling light, eddie adds, "and it helps him remember his place."

"bingo. do not forget to keep that shit up when i'm in new york," ronnie says, pointedly pointing, "i don't wanna fuckin heaaar about you gettin' all soft on him and lettin' him run around without a face full of sody pop."

"it's what the munchkin deserves," her similarly be-banged brother agrees. "why does he keep falling for it, ya think?"

"because he loves us, you dumb-dumb," ronnie closes her eyes and sticks her hands behind her head, scratching under the band of her ball cap. "alright, number four... shit, kaminsky and the glue seat. it's gotta be, right? what a totally perfect maelstrom of humiliation."

"christ, and when he couldn't get up without tearing his fucking pants and then kelley comes in--"

"she had to think he was rodded up, dude! signed, sealed, delivered, pervert on school grounds!"

eddie guffaws, big and hearty in a way that makes ronnie join him. "i couldn't believe you dreamed that shit up on your own, you little do-gooder."

ronnie reaches for her beer and takes a pull, sobriety edging to the point where she's seeing twice as many fireflies as usual congregating around her porch light. her voice turns gravelly and serious.

"a c minus will do crazy things to a man."

"jesus, you sound like--"

"don't even say it."

slumping down in his squeaking seat, eddie scoffs. "number three, make with it."

ronnie's mouth twists, absently plucking at the label on her bottle. this is real now, this is crunch time. whenever they usually play top five (top five transformers, top five cheerleaders you'd mow down with a dirt bike, top five cheerleaders you'd save from getting mown down with a dirt bike if you knew they'd make out with you after), ronnie'd get a little overwhelmed once they broke the top three. that's a lot of pressure, y'know! three, magic number, all that shit!

but it's nostalgia boulevard. it's sentimental city. certain things stick out.

ronnie tosses a balled up piece of label at eddie. "foam party at the hawk."

her best friend's mouth perks up and he bats a big ol' bastard of a hand at her. "you're just sayin' that."

"i'm not! that was... i mean, that revolutionized the hawkins fuck you genre!"

"yeah, well, that's what they get for showing it's a wonderful life in july."

"you and your girlfriend dawn dishsoap gettin' freaky in the air vents."

"i could've gone to juvie for that one. if they caught me."

"this is what i'm sayin'!"

click, click. eddie lights another cigarette and ronnie nearly asks him for one, but knows she'll regret the taste of gross tobacco breath in the morning. "but it's still not number one, or number two," he points out.

"well, no, because number two is steve harrington's bald patch!"

a resounding SMACK! as both ronnie and eddie clap their hands together on cue, breaking into peals of soundless laughter, so much so that i'm gonna have to explain this fucking bit to ya, aren't i?

steve harrington's bald patch was a glorious era of time where ronnie was once caught attempting to see something through the arc de triomphe of steve harrington's hair. this prompted steve harrington to be like, what are you staring at, weirdo, or something to that effect which ronnie didn't appreciate. so she was all, dude, you might wanna... get that looked at... that... patch on the back of your head...

and somehow, by some grace of some satanic deity, it caught on.

every time ronnie or eddie were within staring distance of harrington, they zeroed in on the back of his head, exchanging looks of disgust, mild concern, but never amusement so he'd think it was real. and furthermore, they were worried for him. because who wouldn't be worried about steve 'the hair' harrington's hair? it was basically the hawkins high mascot.

and who had more school spirit than ecker and munson?

"ohhhh, shit!" ronnie yelps, wiping at her streaming eyes. "think he ever went and got that rogaine?"

"uuuggghhuhuh, who gives a shit!" eddie drums on the armrests excitedly, the both of them belly-sore from laughing. "number one, ecker! the big catch, c'mon! better be as good as what i'm thinkin' of because if not..."

ronnie lets the last dregs of their laughter peter off into the night air before she answers. the night air, the last night's air, the last night she'll sit out here with eddie talking shit, being teenagers, being go-nowhere do-nothing kids from the trailer park. her stomach twists, but she doesn't let that stop her.

"well, duh," she swallows, after a the last pull of beer suds from her bottle, "graduating."

it takes eddie a second. "you're an asshole."

ronnie's cheeks straight up ache.

"i know."

how the hell is she gonna survive new york without this?

"and i'm very proud of you, asshole."

ah, shit.

"i know."

[utronabalcone]

crystal castles: "we predict a riot",  jun 17, 2008 

PART 1

t.o. electro-punk terrors crystal castles tackle the world on their own terms, trading distorted guitars for a decrepit old laptop and riding a wave of buzz that defies even their own expectations. 

over the past two years, the rowdy synth-punk duo have toured constantly. they sell out runs of 7-inches as soon as they’re released and have become darlings of the uk music scene despite doing everything they can to keep their faces out of the media.

we’d love to get glass’s version of the cc story. she’s very much the onstage face and voice of the band, while kath hides inside a hooded sweatshirt behind his laptop most nights however, offstage he’s the one who does the talking, which reinforces glass’s image as a wild blur of motion that can’t be contained or pinned down by conventional means. onstage, she’s usually lit only by strobe lights as she pogos around, shrieking her lungs out and fearlessly jumping into writhing mosh pits while wearing a nice skirt.

“the live show is where alice comes in. she’s the face of the band and fills up that space quite nicely,” admits kath, as their recently com-pleted album plays on a laptop in the background of their manager’s downtown apartment. 

"as soon as i saw her perform [with her old band, foetus fatale], i knew i could trust her and that i wouldn’t have to look over anything she does. whatever she’d put on my tracks would be fine, and she’ll never write a clichéd lyric."

they’re cocky and a bit difficult, but so were the sex pistols, and like them, they’re causing near-riots without even a full-length album to their name. “riots” might sound like hyperbole, but check out the youtube footage of their appearance at the rough trade store in london. the police may not have had to break out the rubber bullets (yet), but these sure ain’t polite folk-pop gigs.

“for its grand opening, the store had a different show booked every night for a month. ours was one of the first few, but our fans went so mental that they started breaking things in the store – a few coffee tables, a cd rack. then the store cancelled the rest of the shows... i announced on the radio to all the other bands that the shows were cancelled because of us,” - kath laughs with some obvious pride.

it could have been worse, though. a crystal castles l.a. after-party got so raucous that the police brought in a helicopter to break it up. seriously. and that was after they played a club gig that had security working overtime.

“i’m not sure why, but for that show the fans felt the need to get onstage to hold onto alice as if she were morrissey. one security guard kept ripping them off and throwing them back, but they just kept coming. finally he called for backup, and there were six security guards onstage with their arms linked, and kids were still trying to get over them. one kid tried to jump over them, got his head cracked open, and as they’re dragging him off the stage to throw him out he started grabbing toward me.”

if you’ve been unaware until now of the bizarre success of this toronto synth-punk duo, welcome to the Internet era.

by benjamin boles, nowtoronto

photo by richmond lam

[slashhinginghasher]

Into the Cricketverse - Audition Tape

Introduction: Marena POV Introduction: Cricket POV* Aftercare* Bread* Boundaries Movie Night Welcome to my Death Talk* Mess*

*asterisk denotes parts written by @thesightstoshowyou

(This is still part of the Spring Break series, I've just switched from part numbers to titles until Sights and I have worked out where everything fits in the timeline.)

~

Marena's back hit the wall hard enough to rattle the pictures in their frames, the blood in her hair leaving smudges of rust on the white paint. Jesse used the new leverage to thrust even harder, faster, deeper. Every part of his girl was clamped down on him like a vice: bare, blood-spattered legs wrapped around his waist; sharp little nails digging into his scalp and the nape of his neck; pussy gripping his cock like it never wanted him to leave.

About five more minutes, he figured, before the adrenaline rush began to die out and she became cognizant of the fact that he was fucking her out in the open when there were other people in the penthouse. He planned to make full use of that time.

From somewhere in the penthouse, the tinny recorded sounds of screaming and crunching bone looped again and again.

~ One hour earlier ~

Marena was reaching a breaking point much faster than Jesse had anticipated. Only a few days in, and he could already see the strain of Asa's presence taking a toll on her. He'd given Asa a brief overview of her history in the brothel as a way to justify his "hands mostly off" rule, and the clever bastard had quickly deduced that he could circumvent it by using Cricket's pain to torture Marena psychologically instead of physically. If she didn't get a way to work off some of that tension, she'd do something that would push Asa over the edge.

Which was why Jesse slapped down a little plastic baggie of pills in front of her.

Marena glanced at it and went very still. She knew what date rape drugs looked like, and she knew Jesse didn't use them on piggies. When she looked back up at his masked face, it was with the cold, dead eyes of a predator.

"He's in the basement."

Holding his gaze, she slowly rose to her feet, took a few steps backward. Then she took off for the master bedroom at a brisk pace. Jesse smiled behind the mask and fiddled with his camera while he waited for her. It was a digital model, the type he preferred for his personal projects when he didn't have to worry about the cops scraping metadata off a computer file. The sound and picture were crisper, the videos easier to edit after shooting.

And this one had broadcasting capabilities.

Marena emerged in a pair of heavy leather boots with metal plates embedded along the thick soles. With her asymmetric plaid skirt and haphazardly plaited hair, she looked ready to go to some punk show. It was hot. Even hotter was the way she plucked the meat tenderizer Cricket had used the previous night from the drying rack by the kitchen sink, weighing it in her hand and giving it a twirl before nodding at Jesse.

She was silent in the elevator on the way down, absentmindedly tapping the metal mallet against her thigh. Nearly a year ago, she had slaughtered a group of men in a Miami penthouse for drugging and raping girls from the shitty bar she'd worked at. Her subsequent flight from the police had placed her on a path that landed her directly in Jesse's bed - and the rest, as they said, was history.

Jesse mentally sent out a thank you to the four rotting corpses that had inadvertently sent him his Tiny Terror.

The college boy - bermuda shorts, boating shoes, and a button-down shirt that had ripped open in the acquisition scuffle - was tied to a chair, looking a little worse for wear. Various implements of pain were lined up along a metal table behind him and more were locked in a cage off to the side. The setup reminded Jesse of his first encounter with Marena, though she had maintained far more composure than this sniveling wreck. His red eyes and runny nose were shameful in comparison.

Boat Shoes' intended victim had been dosed with a heavier sedative and was snoring away the last peaceful moments of her life in a locked box in the adjoining room. Jesse and Asa would play with the little piggy later; right now her presence would just be a distraction to Marena.

Jesse checked that the camera was linked up to all the TVs in the penthouse, and Asa's phone for good measure. He had a feeling the other man would want to watch this, even if it meant pulling himself away from Cricket's pussy for a time.

Marena looked Boat Shoes up and down dispassionately, like something mildly disgusting viewed from a distance.

"W-what is this?" he whimpered, looking over her shoulder at Jesse. "Hey man! What the fuck is going on?!"

Jesse slowly circled the scene and Boat Shoes tried to follow, straining his neck as Jesse moved out of his line of sight. Marena kicked him in the shin hard enough that the chair scraped several inches across the floor. He yelped.

"OW, fuck!"

She hurled the baggie of pills at his face. He flinched when it smacked his cheek.

"If you're going to rape someone," she said, voice deceptively soft, "at least have the decency to take them down yourself."

"Oh fuck, is that what this is? Some kind of... feminazi intervention?"

Marena frowned slightly.

"I don't know that word."

"You're gonna stand there and act like I'm the bad guy when she's the one who was acting like a tease and giving me mixed signals all night?" His reedy voice rose until he was almost shouting. "If she didn't wanna fuck, then why was she up at my table with her tits out, y'know?"

It was almost comical, the way he tried to square his shoulders when he was still tied to a damn chair.

"It's not like I was gonna hurt her, I just wanted what she owed me without anymore fucking games. But you females gotta make such a huge deal out of everything now with your 'me too' or whatever the fuck."

Boat Shoes craned his head, looking for Jesse.

"How much's she paying you to do this, dude? Or did she just put out like a slut?"

He lost his nerve the second he made eye contact with the mask and quickly looked back to Marena, but his raised voice made it clear he was still trying to address Jesse.

"Fucking typical, females can't even do anything without men to do the dirty work for them, am I right? I wasn't even asking much from her, all she had to do was lie there and take it-"

Whip-quick, Marena backhanded him with the meat tenderizer. The meaty smack was immediately drowned out by his warbling shriek. Melodramatic. She hadn't even hit him hard enough to knock him over. He coughed up a mouthful of bloody spit, and Jesse heard the clink of at least one tooth hitting the ground.

While Boat Shoes whimpered, Marena set the meat tenderizer on the table and picked up a knife. It was a simple thing, less than six inches long with a smooth blade. When she circled back around to face the boy again, he started blubbering and hyperventilating.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck." Blood sprayed off his quivering lips and dribbled down his chin. "Mel? Mel, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it. I didn't mean- Oh, jesus fuck-"

He shut up the instant Marena touched the tip of the knife to his mouth. She trailed it downward, over his scrawny chest, until it hovered over his pubic bone.

"You don't want to be hurt, do you?" she asked in that same quiet, even tone. He shook his head frantically.

Marena cocked her head, eyes wide, unblinking.

"Then why are you so soft?"

She pushed the knife in, slowly.

Boat Shoes' wail echoed off the walls of the basement. When Marena stepped back, the hilt of the knife jutted up from his pelvis like a macabre erection. Probably bigger than anything he'd ever achieved with his limp little dick, too.

Marena slipped behind him to pick at the knots binding his hands. As soon as the ropes fell away, he slid to his knees. The knife handle bobbed up and down comically with each of his pathetic whimpers.

And, surprisingly, he wrapped his quivering hands around it and pulled the knife out a cry and a gush of blood. A stupid move - everyone knew removing the knife would just make you bleed out faster - but Jesse had to admit the kid had some guts. They were just a bit too perforated to do him any good now.

When Marena returned, meat tenderizer once again in hand, Boat Shoes brandished the knife at her, flicking lines of sticky crimson across her scarred calves. She didn't hesitate to bring the mallet down on his face again. More teeth went flying, and his jaw now sat at a horrific angle. Planting a boot on his solar plexus, she shoved him onto his back before stomping hard on the puncture wound in his gut.

Boat Shoes' scream could have shattered glass.

Marena knelt down and straddled his chest, heedless of the pooling blood soaking into her skirt. Keening miserably, Boat Shoes flailed at her with the knife, but didn't even land a scratch before she ripped it from his hand. Another swing of the mallet, and sobbing turned to gurgling. Gore spattered and threads of blood arced through the air as she brought the meat tenderizer down again.

And again.

And again.

A very small part of Jesse flinched with every wet crunch of metal against bone and flesh; he remembered all too well the sensation of his skull giving way under a baseball bat. But most of him was focused on capturing the rictus of fury on Marena's face as she reduced Boat Shoes' head to paste. An inhuman growl had bubbled up behind her bared teeth, rising in pitch and volume until it was a vicious banshee shriek. Her eyes were at once zeroed in and a million miles away, and Jesse felt certain she was not seeing an American college boy beneath her fists.

The meat tenderizer was clotted with blood and skin and other squishy bits that were never intended to see the outside of a skull by the time Marena brought it down a final time. It bounced off the concrete floor hard enough to ricochet it out of her hand, and she didn't bother to retrieve it. Chest heaving, she pushed her hair out of her face with bloody hands. She stood, located the baggie of drugs, then searched for the broken teeth scattered across the ground.

Instead of a human head, Boat Shoes' neck now terminated in a pile of chunky red pulp. Having retrieved all of his wayward teeth, Marena gathered them and the pills in her palm and poured them onto the gory mess, approximately where the boy's mouth had been. She cocked her head, considering, and drove her heel into his groin hard enough that something crunched. Then she wiped her hands on her skirt and walked back to the elevator.

Jesse, by this point, was practically vibrating with need. He could have fucked through steel with how hard his cock was. He took one last, lingering shot of the body before ending the broadcast and switching off the camera. He placed it carefully on the table, removed his mask, and bore down on Marena like a tsunami.

She was waiting for him in the elevator car, and he immediately swept her into his arms, her toes dangling a full foot off the ground as he sucked in mouthfuls of her salty skin like a starving man in the desert. Her face was speckled with blood and flecks of bone and brain matter, which turned to ruddy streaks under his tongue.

Marena was grabbing at him with equal fervor, grinding down on his bulge and tossing her head back wantonly. As the elevator door slid shut, Jesse hiked up her skirt, tore her underwear completely free from her body, and slammed home.

Hopefully, Asa had enjoyed the show.