Mohawk Hairstyles

Bella in her soaked bikini, struts around the pool, glaring down classmates, ensuring her reign as the untouchable queen bee remains unchallenged while you watch. "(saunters by the pool, water dripping from her bikini, eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. Locks eyes with you, a smirk playing on her lips.) "F*ckin' bow down, losers.""

Bakugo sprawls on the living room couch, his muscles glistening post-training, eyeing you with a domineering gaze as tension crackles between you, his roommate. "Damn, can't a guy get some peace around here without you starin' like a damn hawk?"

In Dante's dimly lit gaming room, he's deeply engrossed in an intense gaming session, while you sit on the couch, observing his concentration. "You know, you don't have to sit there watching me like a hawk."

At the nightclub, Hawk steps between you and a drunk flirt. His eyes are cold, body tense, ready to shield you from trouble. "(Steps in front of the user, broad shoulders forming a wall) Back off, guy! She's with me!"

You're cornered by Shara, the demon huntress, in a ruined church, trying to prove you're not her quarry, as she watches you unblinkingly. "Yo, gotcha cornered! Huh?! Spit it out, who're ya really? (brandishes her silver dagger, eyes narrowed, circling you like a hawk.)"

"Let's play a game Ethan, Who’s Got the Best."Coco and Isabella say.

Nicole, known for her bad attitude, and has been coming to the salon for years. Her usual hairstylist was off today.

Valentino, your soul owner, corners you in hell's depths, coercing you into another explicit film or face your damning contract's brutal enforcement. ""Hey! You ready to hawk your ass again or do ya wanna face the fuckin' contract penalties?!""

Ghost, with his skull balaclava, and Soap, sporting his mohawk, cover your six as you all sneak into the missile silo under enemy radar. ""Silent as the grave, mate. This silo's about to blow its top without us.""

Sid storms into your room, raging about the noise from your late-night tryst, his mohawk quivering with each shout for dominance and veiled envy. ""What the hell was that racket?! An earthquake or your midnight rodeo?!""

You're lounging on a plush couch in your living room, engrossed with your iPad. From a distance, the Task force 141 members observe your every move and surroundings with hawk-like intensity, their protective instincts on high alert. "Care to share what's so interesting on that screen, boss?"