#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.

[rems-writing]

Fuckboy Hongjoong headcanon

-> Pairing: fuckboy!Hongjoong x amab!reader

-> Trope: strangers to lovers

-> Wordcount: 2,200 words

-> Rating: nc-17

Nets: @mirohs-aurora-society @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

I'm also tagging @acupoftaewithsomesuga because why tf not lol

-> Kim Hongjoong was not your average fuckboy. Due to the punk aesthetic he always has with his fits (i.e. plaid skirts attached to black ripped jeans, combat boots, band tees, black leather jacket, and eyeliner that makes his eyes more alluring than ever), most students assumed otherwise. His antics and high body count (do not ask 💀) molded his personality into that of the type of rockstar that does drugs and sleeps with lot of women and the occasional man. Yeah, this boy was bi. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who is always seen getting turnt at either a frat party or a spring break rager, chugging beer and slipping his tongue down any woman’s throat before taking them to bed for the night and forcing them to leave the next morning. It’s either that or he leaves. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who even has professors fall at his feet due to his charm and that infamous smirk that everyone loves

-> Well… everyone except you

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt like his word had stopped when he laid his eyes on you walking through the entrance of the college campus,

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt a strange feeling in his chest when you brushed past him with your earbuds in and a CD player tucked in your hands alongside many notebooks and a couple of textbooks.

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt strangely elated when he found out that he shared the same literature class as you despite always showing up late to that class, as well as other classes. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who fought to stay awake just to listen to your voice as you introduced yourself to the class and explained why you loved literature so much. He usually falls asleep in the times that he actually shows up to class. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who waltzed his way towards you when the professor decided to have everyone stand up and walk around so every student can get to know each other. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who was surprised when you held your hand up and bluntly told him that you knew what he was and that unless they were paired up for a project together, you want nothing to do with him due to his reputation around the college. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who usually brushes off that statement with ease if someone else said it. However, since it was you, he felt his chest tighten with pain. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who kept up his nonchalant act and shrugged with indifference as he walked away from you. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who sat back down in his seat when the icebreaker was over and the professor started lecturing. Although, he just stared at you from afar rather than paid attention to the actual lecture. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who watched you leave after you had packed everything and left the lecture hall. He was enamoured with the way you moved. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who saw you walking down the hall and called out to you to join him at his table in the campus cafe. His smirk was painted on his face as usual. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who was surprised when he saw you gape at him like he was stupid before walking away briskly. 

-> “God he’s a tough one to crack.” He muttered to himself. “Oh well!”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who found himself at yet another party with a girl straddling him, kissing his neck and moaning at the occasional squeeze of her hips. It was his way of encouraging her to keep going. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who looked up but instead of the random girl’s face, he was looking at yours. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, whose eyes widened before shutting them tightly and opening them again so he could see the girl’s face again. 

-> “Sorry. Maybe I smoked too much.” He reassured her. Or was he trying to reassure himself? Sure, he did smoke before this, but he didn’t hit the blunt that hard to visualize someone else on top of him. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who fell back into his usual antics when he took the girl to an empty room and fucked the daylights out of her in order to distract himself. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who immediately clothed himself after he was done with her and made sure she was fast asleep before leaving the room, cursing to himself when his clunky boots hit the hardwood floor. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who exited the party that was still going on and found himself wandering outside, thinking about what exactly was happening to him. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to almost drop the CD player in your hands. For some reason, he’d blame himself if it ever broke. Luckily, it didn’t since your earbuds were plugged in so it just hung there instead.

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who saw you widen your eyes and clutch your CD player to your chest before turning away from him. He felt his own chest tighten again. Surely, he didn’t think he was that bad to even break things on purpose. Right?

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who helplessly watched you walk away after muttering a half-assed “Thanks” to him. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who shook his head and scolded himself for caring about your opinion on him when he really shouldn’t before walking home. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who actually found himself walking to literature class not only on time, but early at that. Professor Park was pleasantly surprised with this. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt excited when he found out that he was partnered with you for a project. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, whose excitement died down when he saw you wearily approach him and cautiously sit next to him. Your hood was over your head and you kept looking down. Why did that hurt his heart?

-> “Oh, come on. I’m not that evil! Right?” Hongjoong joked with you, only to receive a silent yet serious answer when you didn’t respond to his attempt at making the atmosphere a little lighter. 

-> “Hey. Say something.” Hongjoong urged gently but to no avail. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who decided to focus on the project by opening his textbook. 

-> “It’s fine. I’ll take care of everything. Just… do whatever you want.”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, whose eyes widened when he heard you speak for the first time. He was happy momentarily before he realized the weight of your words. You’d basically do all the work and he’ll just present the project before getting the grade. He’d hated how you assumed that he doesn’t care about schoolwork. He also hated how you were right. Most of the time, he could give two fucks about assignments. However, since your arrival, he found himself wanting to be in your good graces. For the first time, he actually cared about someone’s opinion on him. 

-> “No. You listen to me. And you listen to me well, Y/N.” Hongjoong said sternly. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who regretted speaking like that when you flinched and looked up at him before nodding once, indicating that you were listening to him. 

-> “You’re right. I don’t normally care about assignments. However, since you have this vendetta against me, how about I prove to you that I actually care about this class?” Hongjoong explained softly yet firmly. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who stuck out his overly ringed hand to you so you could shake it and be a part of this truce that he was putting out. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt flustered for the first time in a long while when you took your hand in his and shook it. Your skin was soft. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who found himself longing for your touch after you let go. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who found himself in the library with you after class to get a head start on the project. You would do the writing while he would do the research. The both of you would occasionally switch roles so you wouldn’t tire yourselves out doing the same thing. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who would notice that you’re getting tired and told you that they can continue either later on tonight or maybe even tomorrow. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who bid you goodbye before going back to his dorm room to study some more rather than go to the next party available. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who found you at the campus cafe the next morning and gingerly approached you. 

-> “Hey. I know we have all of the next class to do more of the project, but I wanted to ask your opinion on something.” He asked shyly. Hongjoong was never shy. Ever! Yet around you, he couldn’t help but feel this way. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who hung onto every word as you explained the part that he was stuck on for the project, nodding along and jotting down side notes in the margins of his notebook. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who walked alongside you to literature class before sitting next to you. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt proud of himself for contributing to the project and was extremely happy that you were warming up to him.

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who was about to bid you goodbye when you offered to hang out with him outside of class. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who couldn’t help but tease you when you explained that you felt bad for being indifferent with him when they first met before sighing lightly and reassuring you that it’s fine. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you as you two continue to hang out with each other every day. Yeah, that was it. Hongjoong felt love. That would explain why he felt his heart blossom at the sight of you every time he’s near you. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who, all of a sudden, hates his reputation and is racking his brain on how to change himself for the better. He even asked Professor Park for some insight!

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who was walking down the hall one day to his next class when he saw a group of girls (aka his past flings) surround you. He knew right then and there that the karma that attached itself to his reputation would bite him in the ass. And it did. Hard. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who took it upon himself to march over towards them and shove them away from you. 

-> “You’re seriously protecting him? I mean we get that you’re bi, but what’s so special about him? You do realize that he’s nothing more than a phase, right?”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt his blood boil dangerously upon hearing their words and clenched his fist before speaking through gritted teeth. 

-> “He sees me beyond my reputation. He knows me. Inside and out. He is someone whom I would give everything up for. Because guess what? I fell in love with him. And I will not stand by and let bitches like you fill his head with lies and tell him otherwise. The moment you approached him and started harassing is the same moment where I realized that this isn’t the life for me. I don’t want my reputation. I don’t want a different person on my arm every day. I don’t want him to be scared of me. I don’t want him to push himself away from me. I want his trust. His love. So I suggest you scram before I make things worse for you.” 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who felt satisfied when seeing the girls run away. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who looked down at your hunched form and bent down to your height to get a better look at you. 

-> “Was that too much? I’m sorry. I know we’re just friends, but what I said is true. I’m willing to change for you.”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who grabbed your hand and placed it against his chest, his heart beating steadily underneath your palm. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who blushed upon feeling your lips on his cheek. You had kissed him! If he was in his room, he’d probably kick his feet and giggle loudly like a schoolgirl. 

-> “Thank you… for standing up for me. And for returning my feelings.”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who held your hand, savoring the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his.

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who gradually felt himself change overtime as his first romantic relationship was slowly progressing. Gone was the punk aesthetic (minus the many piercings on his ear and the half skirt attached to the pants. You expressed that it was a cool fashion statement and that you wanted to try it out one day). Hoodies replaced leather jackets, regular sneakers replaced combat boots (he would only wear the boots if the mood called for it), and his eyeliner was gone. In addition, anytime someone would flirt with him, he’d deadpan at them before bluntly stating that he’s taken.

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who’d roll his eyes playfully as you tease him for the harsh rejection. Deep down, you loved the loyalty he was displaying. 

-> “Oh, come on, Joongie! She was actually pretty.”

-> “Yeah, but not as pretty as you, baby boy.”

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who smirked in satisfaction as you blushed shyly and hit his shoulder playfully before laughing and holding you close to him. 

-> fuckboy!Hongjoong, who watched you fix his hair underneath the beanie he was wearing with adoration. 

-> Kim Hongjoong, who no longer identifies himself as a fuckboy ever since he has met you and would do anything to keep you by his side. Always and forever. 

[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. 

[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

[cheynovak]

Spikes

Summary: Y/N, a 16-year-old punk-loving girl, rushes to the Beach City Grill every day after school to see Priestly, the edgy and cool guy with a spiky mohawk and piercings, whom she's secretly in love with.

Warning: None, Priestly is just a nice guy to a love sick teenage puppy.

English isn't my first language

Please do not copy my work. Likes/Share/Comments are appreciated.

Y/N hated her school uniform. Every morning felt like a betrayal, pulling on the pleated skirt and stiff blazer that made her feel like a cookie-cutter version of everyone else. She missed her ripped jeans, band tees, and spiked accessories that were as much a part of her as her love for punk and metal.

As soon as the final bell rang each day, she was free—well, not totally. The uniform stayed on, but it didn’t matter. Y/N would ditch the blazer, roll up her sleeves, and sprint across town to the Beach City Grill. It wasn’t just for the sandwiches.

It was Priestly

Priestly was a walking work of art. His hair, styled into a spiky mohawk with streaks of bright red and electric blue, stood out as sharp as his personality. His face was pierced—nose ring, lip ring, and a few studs along his ears. He had these intense green eyes that seemed to look right through people, but his easy smile softened the edge. His sideburns connected to a perfectly sculpted goatee, and he always rocked some version of graphic shirt like he wore today.

Priestly wasn’t just some regular hot guy. He was cool unapologetically himself, and completely untouchable. Older, maybe by a few years, but Y/N didn’t care. She had it bad.

Every day, she’d walk in, heart racing, pretending like she wasn’t already imagining what his voice would sound like saying her name. She’d order the same thing—a soda or a milkshake if she was feeling daring—and linger by the counter, just long enough to catch his eye.

Today was no different. As she pushed through the door, the bell above jingling, she spotted Priestly leaning against the counter, fiddling with one of his bracelets. Her stomach did a weird flip-flop.

“Hey, Priestly,” she greeted, trying to sound casual.

“Y/N!” He gave her a grin that made her insides feel like melted vinyl. “Right on time, as always.”

She leaned against the counter, pretending to look at the menu even though she had it memorized. “Yeah, uh, can’t stay away from this place.”

She wasn’t sure if she meant the grill or him, but Priestly didn’t need to know that. Not yet.

She look at his wrist noticing the new jewellery. “that bracelet’s awesome."

Priestly glanced down and chuckled. “Yeah, thanks. I’ve had this one forever."

Y/N felt her pulse quicken. “I love it. Way cooler than this stupid uniform I’m stuck in every day.” She glanced down at the school-issued shirt in disgust. Then, without thinking, she reached up to finger her necklace—a black choker covered in metal spikes, one of the few remnants of her true style that hadn’t been completely stripped away by the school’s dress code.

Priestly’s eyes followed the movement, and his lips quirked into an appreciative smile. “Your necklace is badass, though. Spikes are killer.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. He liked it! Without thinking, she tugged the choker off and handed it to him. “You can have it,” she said quickly. “The principal’s been threatening to confiscate it if I wear it one more time. Might as well give it to someone who’ll appreciate it.”

Priestly blinked, taken aback, then grinned as he took the necklace from her. “Thanks, Y/N. Seriously. This is rad.” He looked at her like she was more than just the kid who showed up every day at his counter. “Here, let’s swap.”

Before she could protest, he unclasped his leather band and held it out. “I don’t think they can say anything about this at school, right?”

Her heart hammered in her chest as she reached out to take the bracelet. “I—uh—thanks.” She slid it onto her wrist, feeling the worn leather warm against her skin. It was a perfect fit. She was sure her face was burning, but she didn’t care. She had something of his now. Something real.

The silence between them stretched for a moment, comfortable but thick with something unsaid. Then Priestly tilted his head, his eyes studying her face more closely than they ever had before. “Y’know, Y/N, you come in here every day after school. Don’t you have, like, a club or friends to hang out with?”

Y/N swallowed hard, her face flushing even redder. “Uh, I just like the food here. And, um, you guys are just awesome to hang out with.”

Priestly raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but not in a mean way. “Just the food, huh?” He leaned forward on the counter, closer than usual, his voice gentle but knowing. “You’re a sweet girl, Y/N. But... I’ve gotta ask—why do you really come in every day?”

Her throat tightened. Oh, God. He knew. She fumbled for words, her heart pounding, but nothing coherent came out. All she managed was, “I, um... you... I'm s-sorry.”

Priestly smiled, and it wasn’t teasing. It was soft, almost apologetic. “Hey, it’s cool. I think you’re awesome, really. But... you’re still kinda young, y’know?”

Y/N’s face burned with embarrassment, but she nodded quickly, unable to meet his eyes. She knew. Of course, she knew. She was sixteen, still stuck in high school, and Priestly was already in his late twenties. There was no way he’d ever see her like that.

Still, her heart sank as Priestly gently patted her hand. “Maybe in a few years, yeah?” he said with a wink, trying to lighten the mood. “Who knows?”

Y/N couldn’t help the tiny smile that crept across her face. “Yeah... maybe.”

With the leather band secure on her wrist, she knew she’d remember this moment forever. At least Priestly didn't saw her as a freak like all those highschool boys.

--

Taglist -> Click here to add

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @ladysparkles78 @whimsyfinny @kamisobsessed @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @ferrersbiggestfan @spxideyver @kamisobsessed @deans-queen @yvonneeeee @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @deansimpalababy @yvonneeeee @stoneyggirl2

[blu3-ja3]

Civilian clothing? Absolutely and a little Treat as well! Enjoy Lovelies!

O'Connor: Long sleeves and covered neck always, even when hot. Shes insecure about her burn scar and has enough people staring at her for a lifetime. On a very rare occasion does she wear short sleeves and it's ONLY with the 141 around. She likes rich jewel tones and soft fabrics, if it's textured it feels horrible or it's too tight on her skin, she hates how her scar feels. She likes silver jewelry and simple makeup, a bit of gloss and her eyes (shadow, liner, cute wing, and mascara) her nails are always painted whatever colors the sergeants pick. A skirt with nice tights or leggings and a cute boot? Yes. A nice pair of jeans with a cute belt and her old black combat boots, classic. Her hair is up, braided, ponytail, bun or beanie. It's only when she goes somewhere nice does she have it down. Her bag always has her knife, a bandana, and a hair tie along with her phone and wallet.

Price: Lumberjack, lots of well fitting flannels and cable knit short sleeve polos. Nice slacks or jeans with nice combat boots and a well kept leather belt. Nice wrist watch that was a gift from Ghost. Bucket hat that matches his flannels color, he originally only had two but Gaz found a color matched bucket hat for each shirt the man had. He didn't wear them at first but eventually indulged his partner. His beard is always well manicured and trimmed.

Ghost: Mans is unironically fashionable and only wears black. Wears long and short sleeve button ups they're all perfectly tight and hugs his chest and arms well. Soap makes sure of that. Nice jeans or slacks with a black and silver belt and his well worn combat boots. Silver wrist watch, chain necklace, and rings, with black nails. He keeps a face mask on and most times wears a beanie so his eyes and the makeup on them are the only thing seen. There's a difference between Ghost doing his eyes and Soap doing his eyes. Ghost's makeup is what he always does, smeared black nothing fancy. Soap's is intricate with liner and designs, it's still chaotic but in a beautiful way, it's perfect for Ghost.

Gaz: Fashion king, everything he wears is color coordinated with Price. Sweaters with knitted designs or embroidery over a white or black collared shirt. Well tailored black or brown slacks or jeans with a belt to match the sweater main color. Nice pair of chucks customized for Gaz by Soap as a birthday present. Lots of silver jewelry and accessories out the ass.

Roach: Nice acid washed jeans and graphic tees under an unbuttoned flannel. Nice pair of vans and goofy mismatched socks. Patterned belts, multi colored beanies, and chipped nail polish. He keeps his skateboard on him and walks around with his dog Ripley.

Soap: Punk Soap? Punk Soap... Why else the goofy hair cut? He's got a custom leather jacket with hand made patches, studs, and spikes. Graphic or band tees with ripped jeans or colored checkered pants. Well worn black combat boots with custom design embroidery. Chocker with a little ghost charm, rings and layered necklace and bracelets, as well as tongue and ear piercings. Will sometimes wears fake nose and lip piercing jewelry. Nail polish and eye makeup that matches his outfit, wears black lipstick sometimes it drives Ghost crazy.

Lil Treat height and ethnicity ( I think that what its called but idk I'm not smart)

Ghost: 6'7" (British Dad/German Mom)

O'Connor: 6'5" (Irish Mom/Scottish Dad)

Price: 6'4" (Both British Parents)

Gaz: 6'2" (Swahili Mom/British Dad)

Roach: 5'9" (Spanish Mom/Jewish Dad)

Soap: 5'7" (Both Scottish Parents)

[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.

[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.

[anna-neko]

Welcome to another episode of "let's cosplay an audio-only chara!" because sometimes the brainrot lies dormant for months and suddenly.... (goin to live show needed a new outfit)

Scary Marlowe - the Sophomore Slump album

details and whatnot rambling under cut

basic concept was easy enuff: make another t-shirt. "Shit Garden" needed a break, now its time for this

The font seemed basic enuff to copy out and then I'm sittin here like... how to...draw circles... a wholeass ball? (btw no printer access)

frellin BLESS Terry for pulling out his graphic design skills and making me a fantastic ball stencil! He even did a size readjust after my hasty tests the night before

.......anyway, the black shirt had for over a year. It was supposed to be for a Scorpion Slut logo, but scorpions are impossible to draw/cut-out at this detail (aka my lack of skill lvl)

So! because was terrified would fuck up, did a test run first. T'was most educational, seeing how much seeps out and heat needed frm blowing hot air vs ironing over

Kept peeling off bits, readjusting (negative space be dammed), running back to trace out a failed letter (hey kids, want easiest way to fake a light table? ANY backlight works. window, glow of the monitor...) and try again.... (did "O" so many times, its no longer real letter in my brain)**

**MOST OF THIS WAS HAPPENING IN FRIEND'S BATHROOM

Went OCD as fuck getting everything super blocked-out on the actual shirt once was ready to commit

This shirt wasn't painted, but bleached, and i wanted only the words/logo in and nothing else. Clearest outlines, no stencil far edge outlines, no bleed mess

Yes you can see a pin holding on the "hole" of a letter. When I say wanted crisp outlines, that wasn't a joke

of course - irony be dammed - after this part was done, went back and Very Carefully splattered lil bit with my brush. In a highly controlled way

Also the secondary loose concept is ...well.... the first shirt (Shit Garden) she angrily tore at to be punk and all, but this one.... this one was an old team souvenir... Thus soccer ball on both front and back

For this reason (slightly more 'treasured' if you will), the rips were far less chaotic. The hem is left intact, and the neck a careful trim to show she wasn't blindly goin at it with scissors. Ditto on sleeves

Still freehanding this, but folding stuff in half to at least pretend symmetry, ya know?

there's no "Butthole Ricochet" branding ... snuck in a lil Warlock symbol at sideseam instead

New skirt! It has stars!! ★★☆☆★★ she IS a rock star for her album dammit (and it goes on w/ the stars of the barbwire-and-stars long-sleeved shirt frm before)

Everything else (bracelets, fishnet armwarmers, skelenimal scrunchy, etc...) are frm previous incarnations. Tape-measure continues to live on the hip chain

No jar of horrors daddy magic memories, instead there's a funny lil resin charm Terry made (he also once again helped with safety pins AND contributed a few black and white new ones for the sleeves)

The thigh-highs no longer have purple stripes in them (no purple on this one whatsoever, byeeee Omega Patron poison)

Exact same style have used before with alternating sheer & solid stripes, but fully black! (@sockdreams out there continuing to miraculously have Always what am looking for!)

[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.”

[erisawrites]

Shut up, just shut up!

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓: 𝑽𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒙 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒔: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒊𝒏𝒋𝒖𝒓𝒚, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒅 𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒇!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆

M A S T E R L I S T

The rain pattered against the cracked window, a sound she'd grown accustomed to from countless visits, something she keenly paid attention to in the silence of his home.

Now her ears were deafened to it, deafened to all sounds around her, save for the rapid beating of her heart, a speed so alarmingly high she felt her vision rock along with it.

But she forced her hand steady, carrying it onto the ripped hole of his jeans, dabbing the cotton onto the red patch throbbing on his knee, just barely recognizing his trademark grunt through her panicky state, until at last he turned away, signaling he no longer needed her.

Vanessa Lee spun her body, anchoring her feet on the carpet as she sat rooted on his bed. The woman tossed the damp cotton onto the heap of red on the tray, ensuring her sleeves were pulled tightly uptil her knuckles.

She hid it once, now twice. Just few more minutes until she goes home and she wouldn't need to hide any‐

“Vanessa.”

The woman paused, arm hovering mid-air. He never used her name. Always the silly nicknames or light name calling. Never the entire name. Never playfully at least.

His hand clamped down her elbow, bringing her arm to him, but her face stayed glued to the tower of cotton balls soaked in his medicine and blood. The woman swallowed nervously, facing the man through her most nonchalant face, but felt her mask falter.

The rain had tamed his wild hair, letting it droop over his face like a damp curtain, but the penetrating gaze of his mismatched eyes, that deep, scrutinizing gaze which made her feel infinitely exposed stunned the woman to her spot, and she began berating herself for insisting she took a look at him.

He pivoted her forearm up, letting her sleeve sink down. In the dimly lit room, the purple patch on her skin shone like a beacon.

“What's this.”,no emotion nor intonation in his voice. That's how serious this was.

Amidst the harrowing fear of being found, it suddenly occurred to her who she was talking to. Her brows furrowed, hand tightened to a fist, snatching her arm away from his grip, “Straightener burns.”

His deadpanned gaze didn't leave her, but Vanessa contemplated if this was a good sign to take leave. She smoothed her skirt as she straightened her le-

“Who was it?”

Another rough tug on the arm, another rough thud onto the bed, and another rough question. “What's it to you?”

That seemed to awaken him, even though it was said out of spite “Was it the boys bothering me?”

A scoff of disbelief curled her lips, with the woman covering her arms once more. A distraction. But she didn't foresee who this was distracting. “They didn't fall to my feet for no–”

Her eyes widened to saucers, throat bobbing as it got clogged by her heart. She heard the signature sharp inhale of the man beside her, a sign preceding things that will only go downhill.

“Vanessa.”,his grip tightened on her arm, “Are you saying that you got beat up by the boys? Those boys?”

A huff of exasperation sank her shoulders, and she attempted to flick away her arm like last time, underestimating the strength of his hold and the severity of this situation.

The man gritted his teeth, desperation cracking through his vexed mask, “Tell me‐!”

“Those punks needed to be put in a hospital for once instead of you!”,she exclaimed rather annoyedly, like she had finished admonishing a pre-schooler in need of a time out. Except that the people the woman dared to go up against could have timed her out too. Indefinitely.

The man's eyes were ablaze with fury, his red eye throbbing with a fierceness she hadn't witnessed before, “You fought against them?”,he forgot all thoughts of personal space as she grabbed her by the collar, stumbling her forward, “Are you out of your mind?”

“They were out of th-theirs!”,she defended through stutters, struggling to shake off his hand, “I couldn't stand letting them walk over you-”

The man's eyes widened, his piercing gaze glaring into her soul, “Who ever said anything about anyone walking over me? Don't take pity on me if you wanna act like an idiot.”

Her eyes turned glassy, with something tightening her throat, “Don't get mad over something I did for yo–”

“You really wanna go there?”,he sneered, raising a mocking brow, “You really wanna worsen your image by playing savior when you can barely save yourself?”

“You never asked who started it.”,she countered, fingernails digging marks into his hand, “Did it ever occur to you that they threw the first punch?”

“Which was raised from months of your useless ‘scolding’!”,he exclaimed, chest heaving as he refused to let go of the woman, “I warned you about this day, didn't I? That one day your motormouth will dig your own grave, but you just don't underst–”

“So what, you expect me to just see you get beat up?”,her eyes were filled to the brim.

“Yes?”,he guffawed, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, “I can handle it, I can take a punch and even throw worse ones!”

“It hurts me to see you in pain.”

The man scowled through bared teeth, “You get hurt by the stupidest things! Someone too soft as you should stay locked in if you were actually smart enough, but clearly that same softness makes you, oh so blind to danger!”

“I don't care if you can fight back!”,her voice began cracking, but she still fought through tears. She was not going to humiliate herself now, “I don't care if I'm soft or stupid, I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Not everyone lives pampered lives like you, Vanessa.”,he chuckled dryly, “You can't run your mouth around with talks of kindness and concern when some people need to get hurt and cause hurt to survi–”

A hand squeezed over his other uninjured knee, once also patched up by her months ago, “But why do you have to do all the hurting? When not some other way?”

This angered the man further, prompting him to slap her hand away, “Why do you have to tail around me like some lovesick pet? Why do you have to hover all over my moves and stalk me like some freak–”

“I care for you, okay–”

“You've exhausted your limits as a friend, know th–”

“It's not that, I just love you, alright!”

The man's scowl fell, replaced by angered confusion, his eyes slowly taking in her jittery appearance as she stumbled for words, “I love you a lot, alright? Too much to see you every afternoon in bruises. It hurts me to know someone's hurting you when it's the last thing you need.”

The man sat dumbfounded, face scrunched up in the same frown as he breathed heavily, eyes not leaving her once, “You're…you're really foolish…”

“All I'd do was reprimand them when I see them.”,she added extra emphasis in the second half of the sentence, “But I never knew they'd stoop so low as to come attack me. I promise I didn't threaten or offend them to warrant this!”

He simply blinked, face relaxed and body at ease as the sound of the rain slowly pairing her softened voice as it cleared her name, “I always I make sure I'm safe and the same applies to the people I love, so of course I get worried–”

“Quiet…”

“But you always seemed to misinterpret it as me being pushy, when I just really loved you too much to ignore you, when you were clearly in pain–

“Shut it…”

“And man, all those nights I'd stay awake next to my phone when you return home clearly beaten up but I can't follow you since you're willing to bleed asleep then accept my help, how much tro–

“Vanessa, shut up!”,the man held her wrists, pinning them down before his hands cupped her cheeks. She noticed the same fire swirling in his eyes, but the source didn't stem from the same anger as before. No, it was not anger at all. “Just, shut up!”

She parted her lips, but instead parted her eyelids all the way back as Vinny enclosed the gap between them, his hands replacing onto her back, minimizing the other gaps among them as he brought her close.

Vanessa sat shell-shocked, unable to tell if she was dreaming or not. But as Vinny's warm lips sent electric sparks down her spine, eradicating any bits of drowsiness, she knew very much this was real. And how very much she dreamed about this.

The woman closed her eyes, allowing herself to sink in the pleasure of his warmth, her hands sliding up his broad chest to rest on wide shoulders, while his own snaked up and down her back.

His hands clutched her waist, and the woman briefly gasped as she was lifted onto his lap, “Vinny, your injur-”

“Do them again later “,he breathed, lips sinking into the smoothness of her neck, making her eyes roll back, “You've become more of a fool since you last fixed them.”

“For you, Vinny.”,she sighed, relishing in the warmth his palm trailed up and down her bare thighs, “I'm only a fool for you.”

The man pulled apart his lips, each locking gazes as they sank in a pool of admiration for each other, “But maybe you're too good for me.”

The woman chuckled at his remark, not caring if he thought she was too airheaded to see the ‘truth’ in his words, “I don't care, Vinny. I don't care.”

“Vanessa….”,he groaned, and within seconds, the clutch hoisting her hair had disappeared, with her back plastered against the crumpled bed sheets, and the man hovering above him.

“Ho-Hold on, Vinny.”,she swallowed, redness creeping all across her face, “I'm not su–”

“Calm down, freak.”, she felt the air sucked out of her lungs as the man dropped atop her body, head nuzzling against her chest as each leg encased her own between his, “You make a good pillow.”

“Vinny!”,the woman croaked, struggling to breath, “Get your fat butt off me, I'm not some-”

The man smacked a pillow across her face, “It's too late, I'm too beat up. You can't leave me alone this way.”

That stopped her thrashing. “You….want me to stay for the night?”apprehension clouded her face, “But my parents….”

The man tilted his neck as she swiped away the pillow at last, “Don't worry, your mom will understand.”

“What do you mean?”,she grunted, rolling the man off her body

“She will be reassured.”,he lied down on his side, red eye glimmering beneath the moonlight breaking through the rain, “Her child's boyfriend is protecting her, after all.”

The woman's eyes lit up, shining with an elation Vinny hadn't seen for years, slowly thawing the coldness he struggled to shake off the more he gazed into her warm, coffee-hued eyes.

“Yeah.”,she breathed with a blush, letting him drape a blanket over them, “She'd be reassured.”

[hernakedmuse]

Punk!Bimbo Reader Headcanons Part I

She moved to Hawkins from Queens in her Freshman year

When she arrived everyone was mean to her, she showed up with chopped off cropped hair styled a little Betty Boop, a Sex Pistols t-shirt that had her thrown in the principal's office, and maroon doc martens all beat up.

Girls would hit her in the locker room and call her derogatory names and guys would call her a slut especially because of her well endowed breasts and punk appearance.

One day, Horror!Bimbo is in the girl's bathroom skipping class to have a smoke, she's fixing her lipstick when she smells smoke, sees the bathroom window open and hears crying.

She opens the stall of the handicapped one to see Punk!Bimbo sitting on the toilet, just sitting, with headphones on, tears messing up her mascara, clutching a cigarette with chipped red nails in a cute, ripped Iggy Pop shirt, a small jeans shorts, ripped fishnet stockings, and docs, oversized army jacket around her elbows and a cool homemeade nose piercing.

She liked this girl and eyed her cadillac red lipstick, she wants it. "You're crying, is the song very sad?"

Punk!Bimbo was ready to cuss out and fight the bitch who interrupted her when she saw it was the Whore of Hawkins High, that was what they called her but Punk!Bimbo thought it was misogynist and ridiculous, and who gave a fuck what anyone did with their own life, God forbid! Oh how she hates the midwest.

The girl had a vacant yet kind look in her eye and looked unbothered and intrigued, so Punky answered. "No, it's angry, it's um--Black Flag, Rise Above by Black Flag."

Horror!Bimbo took out her own cigarette, wrapping her black cherry lips around her own and lit up with her lavender colored lighter. To Punky she looked like a stripper rendition of a corpse bride and she LOVED it, who was she? Truly? "Can I listen? You can listen to my tape, it's uh- *giggles* Nina Hagen--"

"I love Nina Hagen!" Punky exclaimed interrupting the gore whore.

Horror!Bimbo sat on Punky's lap with ease and took her head phones while giving hers to Punky. "They steal my panties and tell everyone I give blow jobs for 50 cents-- one time the principal tried to look up my skirt, I asked him why he was looking up there and I got suspended and a rumor of me fucking him went around, now his wife gives me dirty looks at my dad's grocery store." Her wispy, ghost-like voice explained which horrified Punky, how could anyone treat someone like that? Especially someone so sweet. "They call me a slut and a dyke, I don't care about that though those aren't insults to me, but it's the hitting you know? They like to fuck with me and- I'm so tired, I'm not sad I'm tired, fucking tired and something's gotta change."

Horror!Bimbo blew a smoke ring. "So hit back, bash them in the head for once, you're gonna get in trouble anyway. Bash their brains in watch the blood run." She giggled like a maniac.

Punky laughed. "You're crazy."

"I know!" She moaned "Please try and tell the mental hospitals I've been applying at that!'

They've been best friends ever since.

Punky decided to follow in Moth's footsteps and played up the bimbo look. Cut her hair in a blunt, China bob, dressing revealing like California's Angelyne and spin some Debbie Harry into her look which was absolutely lethal with her va va voom body, her overdeveloped hips and tits, makeup always vampy, clothing rockabilly.

She really started fighting back when her mom's boyfriend tried to molest her in her sleep one night, she put a cigarette out in his eye. Her mom kicked her out, this was junior year, and Horror!Bimbo took her in for a month until her mom begged her back and told her she was right that Rodney was no good.

She blamed Punky though for looking so easy, Punky bit back her feminist rant and let bygones be bygones with her mother but when school came, when Carol tried to grab her by the hair because her boyfriend wanted her to blow him, she took Carol by the hair and slammed her head against the locker and pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the stomach with her thrift store, leopard print stilettos, she beat the ever living shit out of Carol as she let out bloodcurdling screams in the hall, she never forgot when Carol tried to set her up to get gangraped at a party and never forgot when Steve Harrington saved her that night.

Carol had to be taken to the hospital, she had two broken ribs, one missing tooth, a broken nose, broken arm, and a concussion from Punky's rage alone.

Nobody messed with her again.

She started an apprenticeship at the only beauty parlor in town and sings lead for a punk band started by community college students from the next town over, they call the band Hellcat, which was a nickname Punky earned.

The Beauty Parlor is a couple doors down from Family Videos

A certain big haired employee was enamored with the vixen in the tight pin up clothing and the vampy bob who swayed her hips down the street to her job. He'd bring her food sometimes from Benny's, give her his employee discount when she came in for videos, sometimes just pay for it himself.

"Let me know when you wanna book an appointment with me Stevie" She'd tell him with a smirk on her cadillac red lips, a wink, and a saucy little hip sway. She was like Elizabeth Taylor, Vikki Dugan, and Elvira wrapped in one, she was a centerfold come to life, he'd do anything for her, let her do anything to him.

If only she knew after that terrible night at the party, he would follow her home every night after that to make sure she got home safe.

Her silent protector.

[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.”