#and her and Harley have matching tats

[cha0ticlesbian]

Obviously we all know that Harley has tattoos but counter offer: Ivy also has tattoos

[voyter]

CRIMINAL ! ... halloween special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

your boyfriend ends up loving your costume idea for the two of you more than he initially lets on.

word count. 5.4k words warnings. jk and oc have matching costumes. vmin being the kings of halloween parties. slight crack. smut. roleplay dynamics. light bondage (handcuffs). oral (fem!receiving). handjob. unprotected sex (be safe girlies). switch!jungkook. switch!reader.

ana's notes. happy (late) halloween !!! this was originally supposed to be posted on the 30th but it wasnt finished .. so i was going to post it on actual halloween day but i got busy LMFAO IM A MESS !!! initially i wanted to do a kinktober but my ass couldnt even keep up with this so AINT NO WAYYY LMFAO IDK HOW YALL DO IT. BUT DONT FEAR ITS HERE NOW !! i had sm fun writing this, hope you love it as much as i do !! keep your comments positive or say nothing at all xx

For the past three years, Jimin and Taehyung have hosted their annual Halloween party. It's the one event they take seriously, spending hours planning the perfect invite list, décor, and food. Friends and acquaintances eagerly anticipate the night, knowing it'll be full of unforgettable moments, laughter, and chaos. Jimin and Taehyung always go all out, making their Halloween gathering the event of the season.

You and Jungkook have a tradition of matching costumes. The first year, you went as Harley Quinn, and Jungkook went as the Joker. That one's still one of your favorites — especially with Jungkook's green hair and tatted up face. He looked so good that night. The second year, you went for something bloodier: you, a sexy victim, and Jungkook as Ghostface. It was thrilling, especially when he made the night even better by fucking you with the mask still on. By the third year, you went classic as Mr. and Mrs. Smith, and Jungkook couldn't take his eyes off your tits spilling out of your corset. This year, you decided to skip the fictional characters and go with something a little simpler — but still hot. You were dressed as a cop, or rather, a slutty cop, and Jungkook was the prisoner.

"Don't you think this is a little basic?"

“Do you know how many people I’ve seen at these parties dressed as vampires and cats?” you retort, adjusting your costume and checking yourself out in the mirror. “Trust me, baby, no one cares.”

Jungkook, clad in an orange jumpsuit, glares at you through the mirror. "I just hate orange," he says monotonously.

You turn around and face him, giving him a smirk. "You'll survive. Besides, you make anything look good."

He smirks, leaning down to capture your lips in a heated kiss. Your arms snake around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at his nape. His hands roam from your waist to your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in his large palms, pulling you closer. But just as things start to heat up, you push him back with a playful grin.

"Not now," you say, breathlessly. "We have to be there in a few."

Jungkook huffs in frustration, but doesn't argue. And even though he's not thrilled about his costume, the way his gaze darkens tells you he's already imagining what's to come later tonight. He knows he'll get you out of that outfit later. 

When you and Jungkook walk into the party, it’s all familiar faces. Laughter and cheers erupt the moment they spot you two, with Jungkook’s arms handcuffed behind his back, the bright orange of his jumpsuit standing out in the crowd. You guide him confidently by gripping his arm, playing the role of the stern cop escorting her prisoner.

Jungkook looks equal parts annoyed and amused, his usual cocky attitude momentarily restrained by the handcuffs, though the way his lips twitch hints at his playful frustration. The room seems to buzz with energy as people start teasing him the moment you step through the door.

“No fucking way you agreed to this!” Jimin exclaims, eyes wide in disbelief as he takes in the sight of Jungkook in handcuffs. Without missing a beat, he grabs the camera hanging around his neck, the polaroid already set and ready to capture every costume of the night. “Oh, I have to take a picture of this. Tae, hold my drink!”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin thrusts his red solo cup into Taehyung’s chest, some of the liquid sloshing out and soaking into Taehyung’s blazer. Tae rolls his eyes but doesn’t complain, knowing this is typical Jimin behavior.

Jimin hurriedly pushes his sunglasses up into his hair and pulls out the polaroid camera, eyes gleaming with excitement as he positions himself in front of you. You smirk, grabbing your belt, keeping your expression serious like a true cop on duty. Jungkook plays along, tilting his head to the side with a playful pout, his lips pursed like he’s posing for a dramatic mugshot.

With a click, the camera flashes, capturing the moment perfectly. A second later, the familiar buzz of the camera sounds as the polaroid slowly rises from the slot at the top. Jimin pulls the photo out, shaking it lightly as the image begins to develop.

“Had no choice,” Jungkook grumbles. “Whatever girlfriend wants, girlfriend gets.”

Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “Bro, you’re so fucking whipped,” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook mutters, though he can’t hide the small smile tugging at his lips. “What are you two supposed to be, anyway?”

Jimin looks genuinely offended at the question, pulling his sunglasses back down over his eyes as if that alone should make it obvious. “Hello? Men in Black!”

He points his plastic gun at Jungkook. Beside him, Taehyung pulls out a shiny MIB card.

“Aw, I was really hoping you two would take my advice and go as Dumb and Dumber,” you pout, crossing your arms dramatically.

Jimin and Taehyung exchange offended looks, grimacing at your suggestion.

Jimin puts his plastic gun back in its holster with a flourish, shaking his head. “Respectfully, fuck you,” he replies, a teasing glint in his eyes.

You playfully lift a hand as if to strike him, your expression mock serious. Just then, more people start to stream into the home, their laughter and chatter filling the air.

“Well, since we are so extremely popular, we’ll meet back up with you guys soon.” Jimin says, turning to Taehyung, “We’ve got more people to greet.”

“Don’t get freaky in any of the bedrooms! I swear on my life I will kill you both,” Taehyung exclaims, shooting a warning glance over his shoulder as he follows Jimin into the crowd.

You roll your eyes, amusement dancing in your gaze.

"Alright, baby, can you take the handcuffs off now, please?" Jungkook whines, eyebrows knitting in genuine discomfort. "My arms are starting to hurt in this position."

"Keep begging like that, maybe I will," you tease, enjoying the playful power dynamic between you two.

Jungkook smirks, leaning in closer to amp up the charm. "Oh, please, officer? I promise I'll be such a good boy,"

You scrunch your nose in exaggerated disapproval. "Never do that again," you reply, trying to sound serious but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting, as you turn him around, your fingers brushing against his wrists. The thrill of the moment sends a rush through you as you unlock the cuffs with the small key, the metal clinking softly as you release him.

He turns around, his hands sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer, the warmth of his body igniting a spark of electricity between you. You smile up at him, feeling a thrill at the proximity.

“Shouldn’t have done that,” he says, his voice low and playful. “Now who knows what kind of crimes I’m gonna commit again?” He looks down at you, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Careful, prisoner,” you warn, narrowing your eyes playfully. “Don’t forget, I’m watching you tonight.”

He holds his hands up in mock defense, a grin spreading across his face. “I promise to behave… for now,” he replies, the challenge in his tone clear as he leans in just a little closer.

You can feel the heat radiating off him, and despite your attempt to keep things light, the air feels charged with unspoken tension. “You’d better,” you say, trying to maintain an authoritative tone but failing as a smile breaks through. “I don’t take kindly to rule breakers.”

“Oh, I know,” he replies, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “But I can’t help it if I’m naturally inclined to break the rules when I’m around you.” With that, he leans in, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispers, “What if I promised to make it worth your while?”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, and you step back slightly to meet his gaze, your heart racing. “You’re incorrigible,” you say, shaking your head, but your smile betrays your amusement.

“Only for you,” he quips, and the way he looks at you… you just know this Halloween night was going to be wild.

You stood corrected.

A few drinks into Jungkook's system, and any pretense of annoyance about the costume was long gone. His hands seemed to find your waist every chance they got, fingers tracing the curves of your hips with a needy grip. His lips, once teasing, were now constantly seeking yours, trailing kisses from your neck to your lips whenever you were within arm's reach.

Even in a crowded room, Jungkook's attention was locked on you, his dark gaze following your every movement. And each time you caught him staring, he'd flash you a cheeky grin before pulling you into another heated kiss, making it clear just how much he was enjoying your costume — and the power it had over him.

Getting a drunk Jungkook home was a damn task. The moment you got him in the car, he was all over you. As you navigated through the quiet streets, his fingers slid up your thigh, kneading it with a firm grip that sent sparks of heat racing through you. Each touch made focusing on the road harder, especially when he leaned over the console, his lips grazing your neck in a series of lazy, warm kisses.

"Jungkook, you need to calm down," you warned, trying to keep your focus on the road as his kisses sent shivers down your spine.

He huffed, not wanting to stop but eventually relented, throwing himself back into his seat dramatically. He crossed his arms like a child who'd been denied his favorite toy, his lips forming a deep pout.

You glanced over at him, biting back a smile as he sulked in his seat. "Aw, I’m sorry baby. Almost home, then you can do whatever you want," you teased, knowing full well that his patience would snap the second you both stepped through the front door.

Like a bunny, his ears seemed to perk up at your words, his pout disappearing instantly. He sat back in his seat with a huge grin plastered on his face, the sudden shift in his mood almost comical. It was as if he'd forgotten all about sulking, now fully focused on the promise you'd made.

Surprisingly, Jungkook behaved as you both got out of the car and made your way to your apartment floor. He walked beside you quietly, though the anticipation was clear in the way he kept glancing at you, his grin never fully fading. His restraint was impressive, given how wild he'd been earlier, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, like a predator waiting for the perfect moment.

The second you unlocked the door, though, all that restraint snapped. Jungkook practically pounced, pushing the door closed behind you as he pressed you against it, his lips finding yours in a hungry kiss. His hands were everywhere at once — grabbing your waist, pulling you closer, one hand sliding up your back while the other dipped dangerously low.

Your sloppy kisses didn't break for a second as you stumbled through the apartment, laughter and heated breaths filling the air until you reached the bedroom. The second you got to the edge of the bed, Jungkook gave you a playful shove, making you fall back onto the mattress with a grin tugging at his lips. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you, reconnecting your lips in a feverish kiss, his hunger for you palpable.

His mouth began its slow descent, trailing kisses down the curve of your neck, leaving a warm, tingling path in its wake. When he reached your cleavage, he paused, his lips lingering there as his fingers found the zipper of your bodysuit. With a swift motion, he unzipped it, freeing your breasts from the fabric. His eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of you, a low groan escaping his throat.

Without hesitation, he leaned down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it in slow, deliberate circles. The sensation sent a shudder through your body, a sharp gasp leaving your lips as your back arched in response. Your hand instinctively found its way into his hair, gripping the soft strands, guiding him as he lavished attention on you.

Jungkook's mouth left your bud with a soft pop, his lips slightly swollen as he looked at you with a mix of desire and admiration. Without wasting a second, he pushed the rest of the bodysuit down your frame, his hands quick and eager as he stripped you of the remaining fabric.

“You seduce all the officers like this?” you tease, your voice light but laced with a hint of challenge as you looked down at him at the foot of the bed.

Jungkook paused for a second, momentarily confused by the question. But then it clicked, and when he realized you were still playing into the roleplay from earlier, his expression shifted. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, eyes narrowing slightly as he fully embraced the dynamic again.

“Only the ones I can’t resist,” Jungkook murmured, his voice dripping with playful seduction.

His teasing words sent a shiver down your spine, the tension between you both thickening with every passing second. His hands moved with skilled precision as he unzipped your boots, tugging them off one by one. The boots were discarded carelessly, the clatter of them hitting the floor barely registering as Jungkook’s focus remained fixed on you, eyes dark and full of hunger.

With a firm grip, Jungkook tugged at the bodysuit, sliding it off your frame in one fluid motion, the fabric slipping away as easily as the last remnants of his restraint. He didn’t stop there — your fishnets followed quickly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. His gaze devoured you, his eyes darkening with each lingering second on your bare skin. He bit into his bottom lip, his excitement almost palpable as his eyes traced every curve of your body like he was committing each inch to memory.

Grabbing your ankle, he lifted your leg gently, a smirk playing on his lips as he began a slow, deliberate trail of kisses from your ankle up toward your inner thigh. Each kiss sent a jolt of heat through your body, his touch maddeningly slow, teasing you with every lingering press of his lips.

“If you’ll let me,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and full of promise, before kissing your thigh once more. “I did promise to make it worth your while.”

“Show me what you got, criminal,” you smirk, your voice laced with challenge and desire.

Jungkook’s smirk matched yours, his eyes darkening with intent as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. In one swift, fluid motion, he pulled them down, the fabric sliding easily over your legs. The second they left your skin, his gaze fixed on the damp spot left behind, a low moan escaping his lips as his hunger for you deepened.

“Look at that,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His fingers traced the wetness left on the cloth before lifting his eyes to meet yours, his smirk widening. “Already so wet for me, officer.”

The playful teasing from earlier had melted away completely, replaced with raw, undeniable need. Without hesitation, Jungkook lowered himself between your legs, his breath hot against your inner thighs. His lips hovered just above your core, his eyes flicking up to meet yours one last time before he leaned in, determined to show you exactly what he had in store. His tongue made the first slow, deliberate pass over your slick folds, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through your body.

Your body reacted instinctively to the sensation, arching your back slightly as a soft moan escaped your lips. You melted into the bed, fingers gripping the sheets tightly as waves of pleasure rippled through you, the intensity of it all leaving you breathless. 

It was when he latched his mouth onto your clit, the cool metal of his lip piercing sending shockwaves through your body, that you felt a fresh wave of ecstasy wash over you. Your body shook involuntarily, a reaction to the exquisite pleasure he was delivering.

“So good, baby,” you moaned, your voice breathy and filled with longing as you looked down at the man between your legs. Jungkook’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, dark and smoldering, the corner of his mouth twitching into a playful smirk as he enjoyed your reaction to his ministrations. 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, his lips brushing against your slick heat, sending a shiver up your spine. "Am I a good criminal, officer?"

Though it had started as playful banter back at Jimin and Taehyung’s house, the way Jungkook was slipping into this submissive role now felt different — kind of sexy. The intensity in his voice, the way he was looking up at you, it was doing things to you that you hadn’t quite expected.

You bit your lip, nodding as you reached down, finding his hand and intertwining your fingers with his. "Mhm, so good for me," you whispered, the words coming out more breathless than you intended. The shift in the dynamic added a new layer to the tension between you both, and you couldn’t deny how much you liked it.

He hummed in satisfaction against your skin, his tongue working skillfully, each stroke more deliberate than the last, as if determined to draw every last sound of pleasure from your lips. You could feel the tension building within you, and with every flick and suck, he pushed you further into a state of bliss. The warmth of his mouth, combined with the gentle squeeze of his hand in yours, only heightened the sensations coursing through your body. You could feel yourself unraveling, bit by bit, under his expert touch.

You lift your other hand, your fingers tangling in his soft, raven hair, pushing it back to reveal his forehead. The sight of his knitted eyebrows makes your stomach flip — he always does that when he’s savoring something, and right now, that something is you. Your grip tightens in his hair, pulling him closer, pushing his face deeper into you. His nose brushes against your clit with each motion, and you can't help but buck your hips slightly, your body moving instinctively as you practically ride his face.

Your moans become louder, filling the room with the raw sound of pleasure, almost pornographic in intensity. The way his mouth moves against you, his tongue expertly flicking and teasing, drives you wild. You feel his moans vibrate against your sopping pussy, sending shockwaves through your entire body. The more you push him into you, the more he responds, his hands gripping your thighs as he devours you, thoroughly enjoying every second of it. You’re lost in the heat of the moment, each wave of pleasure building to something inevitable, your body teetering on the edge of bliss.

With one final buck of your hips, his nose pressing firmly against your clit, the pleasure overwhelms you. Your release crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as you cum against his face. A loud, raw moan tears from your throat, your back arching off the bed as the intensity of your orgasm takes over. Your thighs instinctively begin to close around Jungkook’s head, but he doesn’t mind in the slightest — if anything, it only drives him further.

He stays right there, nestled between your legs, his tongue continuing to lap up every drop of your release. If he had it his way, he'd happily stay there forever. His hand gently caresses your thighs, soothing you through the aftershocks as your body relaxes, your breathing still ragged as you come down from the high.

Jungkook removes his hand from yours gently, rising up from the floor. Fully clothed, he crawls up the bed, hovering above you with a smirk that sends a thrill down your spine. His mouth glistens with a mix of his saliva and your slick, a tantalizing reminder of what just transpired. 

Without warning, he leans down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of yourself lingers on his tongue, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth, the intimacy of the moment amplifying the heat between you. You feel him grinding his hips into your heat, seeking relief for the ache in his cock, and it drives you wild. The friction ignites another wave of desire, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

He leans back down, reconnecting your lips, unable to get enough of you. The urgency in his movements tells you he's craving more, needing the connection as much as you do. Without breaking the kiss, you smoothly shift positions, pushing him back onto the bed. His body sinks into the mattress, and now it's your turn to be on top, looking down at him with a teasing smile. You sit up, fingers working the buttons of his jumpsuit as he watches you, his eyes dark with desire.

"Do good prisoners get anything in return?" he asks, his voice low, teasing.

"Yeah," you say with a smirk. "Freedom."

Your giggle fills the room as Jungkook kisses his teeth in mock annoyance, rolling his eyes at your cheeky response. Still, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, showing he's just as amused as you are.

"I'm sure there's other officers that'll give you something," you tease, your fingers still working on the jumpsuit.

"What if I want someone in particular?" he responds, his tone more serious, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," you murmur.

With a smirk, Jungkook sits up swiftly, his hands making quick work of pulling the jumpsuit off his frame. The fabric falls away, revealing his toned, broad chest — the very sight that always makes your breath hitch. You can't help but admire him for a moment, your eyes roaming over every inch of him, from his sculpted chest to the way his abs tense under your gaze.

He catches the look in your eyes, his grin widening as he notices how you're practically staring. "Like what you see, officer?" he teases.

Ugh, slut.

"You know I do," you reply, your fingers tracing over the tattoos decorating his skin before you press your lips against his again, losing yourself in the kiss as your bodies draw closer.

Your kisses travel south, lips brushing over the warm skin of his neck, chest, and abs, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. When you kneel between his legs, you can't help but notice how hard he is. A wet spot glistens where he’d been grinding against you earlier, evidence of the friction that’s left you both desperate for more.

"Baby, hurry up," Jungkook whines, his voice thick with impatience, the need evident in his tone.

You raise an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. "Refer to me correctly," you command, wanting to tease him just a little longer.

He chuckles softly. "Officer, please hurry up," he says, playing along, his words dripping with need.

“Good boy,” you coo with a smile.

Your fingers hook under the waistband of his jumpsuit and boxers simultaneously, yanking them down in one swift motion. His cock springs free, hard and eager, the pink tip glistening with precum. It’s begging to be touched, twitching slightly under your gaze as you admire him, and you can feel the heat radiating off him.

You let your hand glide slowly up his thigh, teasing him with featherlight touches, savoring the way his muscles tense under your fingers. Jungkook's head falls back against the mattress, a low, desperate moan slipping from his lips as he exhales, his chest rising and falling with the anticipation building between you.

You giggle softly, enjoying how easily you’re driving him wild. Finally, you wrap your hand around his thick, hard cock, your fingers squeezing his length gently but firmly. His reaction is immediate — his hips buck slightly as he lets out a deep, shaky moan.

"Oh, fuck yeah," he groans, his voice low and husky, the sound making you smile even wider.

You start to stroke him slowly, enjoying the feeling of him pulsing in your hand. His hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and his eyes squeeze shut in bliss. The way he reacts to every little movement you make has you feeling powerful, completely in control.

"My pussy turn you on this much?" you tease, your voice dripping with playfulness, a smirk tugging at your lips as you continue to stroke him slowly, deliberately.

Jungkook's moan deepens, his hips bucking slightly into your hand, completely at your mercy.

"Always," he groans, his voice breathless. "Can never get enough of it."

Such a sweet boy. You reward him by quickening your strokes, picking up the pace and driving him wild. His response is immediate — his body tenses, and a low, guttural moan escapes his lips.

Jungkook's hand darts to yours, gripping the one resting on his thigh, his fingers intertwining with yours tightly. His touch is needy, desperate, as if holding on to you will keep him grounded while the pleasure you’re giving him threatens to overwhelm him.

His breath becomes ragged as you continue working him expertly. He bites his lip, trying to hold himself together under your touch. You can tell he’s getting closer, every stroke pushing him toward the edge.

“W- wanna cum in your pussy, please,” Jungkook whines, his voice trembling with need.

You smirk, teasing him further. “Do you?”

He hums in response, the sound more like a moan, his desperation palpable.

“Okay,” you say, your voice soft but commanding. “Since you’ve been so good for me.”

You pull away from his cock, climbing on top of him, the hunger in his eyes unmistakable. Leaning down, you capture his lips with yours, and he responds eagerly, his hands sliding down the arch of your back, gripping your ass tightly, kneading it in his large palms.

Then, without warning, a sudden surge of dominance overtakes him. In one swift move, Jungkook flips you both over, hovering above you with a glint in his eye. He gives you a teasing peck on the lips, but before you can react, he flips you onto your stomach, effortlessly manhandling you as though you weigh nothing.

With your back turned to him, the sound of rustling heightens your anticipation. You can’t see what Jungkook is doing, but the moment you feel his grip on your arm, your heart races. The cold, familiar touch of metal against your wrist makes it clear — he's handcuffing you.

A soft gasp escapes your lips as he tightens the cuffs around your other wrist, pulling your arms behind your back. You’re completely at his mercy now, and the vulnerability only fuels the fire between your legs.

“Am I still a good boy?” he teases, his voice dripping with playful mischief.

“Bad boy,” you manage to reply, though the excitement surging through you betrays your words. The restriction, the control — it all makes your pussy throb with need.

The sound of the slap reverberates through the room, sending a sharp sting of pleasure coursing through your body. You jolt forward, moaning in response, your skin tingling from the impact. Jungkook grabs the chain of the handcuffs, pulling on it slightly, adding a thrilling sense of restraint to the moment. 

His other hand grabs his cock, and you feel the deliberate tease as he slaps it against your pussy, spreading your slickness over his length. It’s torturous — how long he’s making you wait. But finally, after what feels like an eternity, he slowly pushes himself inside you. 

You gasp, your walls stretching to accommodate him, while Jungkook releases a low, guttural groan, his breath catching at the sensation of being enveloped by your heat. He pauses for a moment, savoring the feeling, his fingers still gripping the handcuffs. The tension in the air is palpable, each movement sending shivers down your spine as he begins to move, his hips rocking into you with slow, deliberate thrusts.

Your breath comes out in heavy gasps, your face buried in the mattress as his pace quickens, his hips slamming into you with a steady rhythm. The sensation of being filled so completely has you whimpering, your body melting into the bed as you push back against him, craving more with every stroke. Each thrust is more intense than the last, the bed creaking beneath you as the slick sound of his cock sliding in and out of your wet pussy echoes through the room.

Jungkook’s grip tightens on the handcuff chain, yanking you back harder onto his cock. “All your other prisoners fuck you this good?” he growls. 

A smirk curls your lips. He’s still milking this roleplay. He doesn’t voice it out, but he feels your pussy clench around him. You like this.

“Only you,” you moan, your voice breathy.

“That’s right,” he groans, his tone low and possessive.

Jungkook's pace quickens, the slap of his hips against your ass echoing through the room, his thrusts relentless. The headboard bangs rhythmically against the wall. He yanks the chain of the handcuffs harder, pulling your body back onto him in sync with every deep, punishing thrust.

Your body trembles beneath him, your moans now uncontrollable as the pressure builds to an almost unbearable height. Every drive of his cock inside you sends a jolt of pleasure through your body, his roughness pushing you to the brink. His deep groans mix with your cries, the heat between you reaching its peak, and you can feel yourself getting closer, your climax just within reach.

“You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he teases, his voice rough and low, dripping with lust. The heat in his tone sends another wave of pleasure coursing through you, and you can only nod, your voice caught in your throat as a moan escapes your lips, barely coherent.

His cock drags against your walls, hitting that perfect spot over and over, each thrust igniting a fire within you. Your body is a live wire, every nerve ending alight with sensation as the pressure coils tighter and tighter inside you, building towards a breaking point.

“Come on then, baby,” he growls, pulling you back hard against him, his grip firm and possessive. “Be a good officer and cum. I deserve it, don’t I?”

“Yes! Yes! You deserve it so much!” you manage to reply, the words spilling from your lips like a prayer.

“I’m such a good boy for you, huh?” he presses, his breath hot against your ear, his hips driving deeper.

“Such a good boy, my baby,” you affirm, your voice trembling with need. 

With a few more final, deep thrusts, your body shudders as the last waves of your sweet release ripple through you, your pussy clenching tightly around him. That tightness pushes Jungkook over the edge, and with a loud, needy moan, he releases into you, his hips faltering as he shoots his load deep inside. His groan fills the room as his cock throbs within you, emptying himself completely, the warmth of his cum spreading through you.

For a moment, the only sound is both of your heavy breathing, the heat of the moment still lingering in the air as your bodies stay connected.

Jungkook carefully unlocks the handcuffs, freeing your wrists from the restraints. He tosses them aside, his concern immediately turning to you as he notices the redness on your skin. Gently, he takes your wrists in his hands, massaging them softly, his brows furrowed with worry.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks, his voice tender and full of concern.

“No, baby,” you reassure him, leaning in to kiss his lips softly, easing the tension he’s holding onto. You give him a few more sweet pecks, including one on his cheek, his boyish charm making you smile.

After cleaning up and peeing to avoid an infection, he helps you settle into bed, pulling you into his arms. His warmth envelops you, his face nestled against your neck, and you feel the soft brush of his breath against your skin. Your arms wrap around him instinctively, holding him close as the moment quiets. The heat from your bodies mingles with the gentle stillness of the room, creating a cocoon of intimacy and comfort that lulls you both toward sleep.

As your eyes grow heavy, his voice breaks the silence, low and a little playful. "I think I enjoyed that costume more than I thought," he murmurs against your neck.

© voyter 2024, all rights reserved.

[iceicewifey]

shamelessly copied Sinner /j /lh and did one of those Araki style character sheets for Shay to see if i could share her info easier and I'll say it worked 😳

had to redo the template because I'm stupid and the layout kind of confused me plus I'll never pass up an opportunity to make my own version of whatever thing fjdnfjdgb but I hope it makes sense. alot of the info can be found in her mini bio, but it was still fun to fill this out. plain text under the cut because it's alot to read. thanks again to sinner for both posting theirs and providing the original template ♡

editing because this is so outdated already 😭

Name / Nicknames

Shayleigh Disa Malmsteen / Shay, Spanky (childhood nickname), Dee (from Hol Horse)

Age

23 (SDC)

Sex

CIS Female

Birthday / Zodiac Sign

August 12th, 1965 / Leo

Blood Type

O-

Birthplace

Miami, FL USA

Height

5'4" / 162cm

Weight

~137lbs / 62kg

Sexual Orientation

M-spec

Hair Color

Platinum blonde

Eye Color

Pale icy blue // Pink (Manga)

Eyesight / Colorblindness / Wears Glasses?

Slight myopia Not enough to warrant glasses.

Dominant Hand

Left

Type of Voice

High pitched / "soprano" A bit scratchy from smoking

Medical History

Minor nerve damage from particularly deep scar in right forearm, partially perforated septum (corrected; from cocaine use) Uterine Arteriovenous Malformation — required surgery

Scars / Birthmarks / Tattoos

Numerous scars on hands, arms, torso, shoulders, back, legs, and left eyebrow // Barbed wire tat around right wrist, palm tree on left ankle, devil tail on lower back

Other Defining Physical Features: Nose, Eye Shape, Chest Size, Legs, Moles, etc.

Slightly downturned doe eyes, small slits in eyebrows (left has hair displaced by scars, right is shaved to match). Larger than average chest (~E cup)

Race

Caucasian

Religion

N/A

Nationality

American

Ancestral Background

½ Swedish on father's side

Criminal Record / Education

Criminal record is extensive. Dropped out of high school during 11th grade but stopped attending long before then.

Formative Experiences as a Baby or Young Child

Grew up without birth mother (passed away soon after she and her twin sister were born), Father worked as motorcycle mechanic and would frequently bring his daughters to work; fostered her love of motorcycles at a young age. Dealt with abusive stepmother for ~7 years.

Sexual History / Lovers

Several boyfriends & a girlfriend during high school years, numerous ‘flings’ throughout mid 80’s. Not on good terms with any exes.

Thoughts Towards Romance / Marriage

Says she’s indifferent. Would like to get married, but wants it to be with “the right person.” Has trauma from parents about relationships.

People the Subject Looks Up To / Idolizes

Evel Knievel, Lemmy Kilmister

People the Subject Hates

Her father. Stepmother, Lydia. Stepbrother, Adam. Half brother, Viggo. Estefania, Jotaro Kujo, Polnareff, Nukesaku

Personality Traits / Habits / Fav. Sayings

Tends to hide her true emotions, acts apathetic. Cautious around new people, especially if they know who she is and she doesn’t recognize them. Her defense mechanism tends to make it so she comes off as rude or abrasive. // Honestly just enjoys telling people that annoy her to shut up.

Dreams for the Future

Wants to eventually return to Miami. Wants to build her own custom Harley, right down to the paint job. Wants “a buncha badass lookin’ tats” to cover her more prominent body scars.

Fears

Drowning, being strangled, seeing more of her friends die in front of her, upsetting DIO and having to face his wrath.

Most Traumatic Experiences

The years of emotional and verbal abuse from her stepmother and stepbrother. Her first night in jail. Witnessing the deaths of some of her closest friends at the hands of the gang they once belonged to.

Relationships - Incl. Behavior

Neneh is the first best friend she’s ever had; loves her dearly and would kill for her if she asked. Misses her dearly while in Cairo. Gets along well with other Terence T. D’Arby, Kenny G., Enya, and most other mansion residents. On DIO’s better side. Romantically involved with Vanilla Ice.

Familial Relationships - Incl. Behavior

Hasn’t seen her sister since 17, misses her. Got along very well with Swedish grandparents, used to visit every Christmas as a child; visits slowed and eventually stopped upon her father remarrying. Positive relationships with maternal aunt, Caroline and her daughter, Rita. Gets along well with ‘pseudo father’, Ozzy, misses him while in Cairo. The gloves she wears to hide her scarred hands were a gift from him.

Problematic Relationships

Relationship with father was good as a young child but has deteriorated. Misses how he used to be, hurt that he chose a new partner over his daughters. Never had positive relationships with stepmother or stepbrother. Never really got along with former “boss”, Estefania despite trying. Feels no remorse for her death. Her murder is the reason she ends up in Cairo.

Education / Work History

John F. Kennedy Middle School (Miami, FL) Elizabeth Cobb Middle School (Tallahassee, FL) Lincoln High School (dropped out; Tallahassee) Has never been formally employed or had a ‘legal’ job.

Economic Class

Grew up middle class, struggled with money after being kicked out.

Pets / Plants

Never had pets. Had a monstera clipping that grew in the motel room she lived in.

Personality

STUBBORN. Hates being told what to do and will often do the opposite. Tends to clash with authority figures. Has a bit of a sharp tongue, she’s wary of strangers and tends to speak her mind freely, even if what she says isn’t exactly polite. Used to act out rudely for attention from a bad home life but grew out of that phase. Rarely rude to strangers without reason nowadays. Insanely devoted to friends and loved ones, likes going the extra mile to show that she loves and cares for them. Very outgoing, a bubbly ‘people person’ and a bit of a ‘party girl‘. She’s typically laid back and enjoys being surrounded by those she loves. ‘Bitchiness’ is a defense mechanism stemming from trauma; “If I don‘t care, I can’t get hurt.” She’s a spitfire with a feisty side and a terrible temper, never one to back down from a fight and will start one if she’s worked up.

Strengths

Loyal to the end, skilled with knives and using her stand, won’t quit until the task is done or it kills her, can seemingly sense when someone is upset, can pick things up with her feet

Weaknesses

Hedonistic, lower physical strength than muscular male opponents, argumentative, easy to anger, extensive criminal record, bottles feelings Deep down she’s scared and hurt, hiding behind a façade to escape any future pain

Special Skills / Fighting Style(s)

Mostly accustomed to street fighting. Fights dirty; punching, hitting, slapping, kicking, biting, hair pulling, nothing is off limits. Skilled with using switchblades. Likes to use her stand to trip non-stand user and see their confusion when they stumble.

Weapon(s)

Wields twin automatic “stiletto” switchblades, keeps them hidden in her boots

Driver's License / Vehicle of Choice / Driving Language

Obtained learner’s in 1981 and full license in 1983 but had been illegally driving since she was ~14 // Prefers motorcycles over cars. Favorite bike is the 1973 Harley Davidson FL Electra-Glide // Typical Florida Driver™. Has a lead foot and tends to speed. Tends to get a bit aggressive at times and will partake in road rage if provoked.

Hobbies / Recreations

Likes to draw things she thinks are cool; skulls, motorcycles, tigers, devils, playing cards. Tinkering with her bike, watching trash TV, riding motorcycles with friends, swimming, etc. Often upset she can’t do much of this in Cairo

Likes & Dislikes

Likes metal music, leather pants, motorcycles, billiards, chicken shawarma Dislikes formal clothing, being bossed around, running out of hairspray, driving in the rain, prudes

Food / Clothing / Shelter

Had a few outfits (a lot of them shoplifted) and mostly ate instant or microwaveable food while living in a motel paid for with money from ““odd jobs”” // Kept most of the same clothing upon moving to Cairo, despite her style clashing with local culture. Lives and works in DIO’s mansion

Motives / Passions

Self preservation, making “a shit ton of money”, has thought about killing her stepmother in the past but doesn’t want to deal with the consequences

Favorite Color / Locations / People

Dark teal, black, hot pink // South Miami Beach, Aunt Carol’s house // Neneh, Terence, Vanilla, and Enya

Fashion Style

Wears a lot of tight and overly revealing clothing after years of being forced to dress “like a proper girl” as a child. Likes wearing leather and wants to look like the girls in the metal magazines (i.e. Doro Pesch)

Used Substances

Tobacco, alcohol, marijuana (formerly), cocaine (formerly addicted)

Perfume / Cologne?

Used to wear “City Girl” perfume, but prefers scented lotions.

Any Accessories?

Crescent moon earring worn only on her left ear (twin sister wears the other), two hoops on right ear // stud on left side of nose // black leather fingerless gloves to hide scars

Supernatural Abilities / Attuned to Spirits?

Not necessarily sensitive to spirits but sometimes feels what she assumes is her mother’s presence when she sits on the beach alone at night. She can’t explain it, but it’s somewhat comforting and tends to happen when she’s stressed or upset.

Accent / Dialect

Miami accent; pronounces the ‘L’ in “salmon” // speaks in short form and slang often (i.e. wanna, gonna, ain’t) // drops the ‘g’ on words that end in ‘-ing’ (i.e. swimmin’ )

Anything Else?

Knows how to juggle. Allergic to shellfish. Not a serious reaction but the kind that makes her throat tingle. Used to think it happened to everyone, not just her.             ↓ “Everybody’s throat tingles after crab cakes. It’s part of the experience.”

[chronicparagon]

GET TO KNOW THE MUN.

what’s your phone wallpaper : I have separate pictures for the lock screen and home screen. The first one is of Ankha but the second is of Blue and Harley in my old apartment back in 2021. It was the only decent picture I have of those two together without them trying to kill each other. Harley looks quite offended that Blue is near her in this.

last song you listened to : Le Dragon De Noz Art by Stone Age

currently reading : Development and Dissemination of a Strengths-Based Indigenous Children's Storybook: “Our Smallest Warriors, Our Strongest Medicine: Overcoming COVID-19" - One of the many journal articles I'm reading for school and work.

last movie: M3gan last show : The Office

what are you wearing right now : Black sweatpants and light blue t-shirt. Also wearing a navy sweatshirt because it’s kind of chilly in my place.

piercings / tattoos? : I have one piercing on each ear lobe. I used to have piercings elsewhere like studs on the side of the nose, Monroe piercing (a kind of lip piercing meant to look like a beauty mark), and ear cartilage piercings. I took them off except the ear lobe piercings years ago, but if I still have them, then I would have to take them off because of work.

I have several tattoos though. I have moon phases running down my spine with a purple and blue watercolor background and black stars. I also have a stylized jaguar with a moon behind it on my left shoulder blade. This matches my twin sister's tattoo but hers has a sun instead of a moon. My left forearm also has a purple crystal wrapped with vines and pink flowers. There are small purple and black stars above the right collarbone. I had several black and purple stars on my right upper arm, but I have a half sleeve of flowers to cover it up since I always wanted floral sleeve. I need to get it colored in though. It's just I haven't done it yet because it can get expensive.

The studio I go to now charges about $150 an hour, so I can't get it colored right away. The price is typical for most tattoo studios and the artists deserve that for all the hard work they put into the tattoos. Also debating on changing artist or studio since I haven't really clicked with my current artist in the past three appointments. I would love to go back to an Indigenous studio like I did in ND. I would like to get a couple more tats after the sleeve.

glasses ? contacts? : Glasses. I struggle with contacts because of how sensitive my eyes can be. I have tried with contacts for years but they never work out.

last thing you ate? : Indian taco (it's also called by other names like Dakota taco. It's basically a taco but instead of a shell or tortilla, it's on fry bread.)

favorite color(s) : Black and purple

current obsession : Right now, trying to get my last paper done and work towards prepping for comps and dissertation.

do you have a crush right now? : I have crushes but nothing serious. Mainly platonic crushes. That is all I can say about that.

favourite fictional character : I have a lot of favorites like my friends' OCs, Usagi from Sailor Moon since childhood, Yugi Moutou because childhood, Melfina from Outlaw Star, Pip Bernadotte from Hellsing, Seras Victoria from Hellsing, Guts from Berserk, Puck from Beserk, Casca from Berserk, Ranni from Elden Ring, Roxanne Wolf and Chica from FNAF, Micheal Myers, Jason Voorhes, Buc-ee the beaver (don't know if mascots count)

Tagged by: @poeticphoenix [Thank you!!] Tagging: Anyone who wants to do this.

[alienguts]

Getting Tattoos with Harley (Harley Quinn x GN!Reader HCs)

Warnings: mentions of needles

A/N: I don't have any tattoos and I don't think I’ll ever get one (I’m more of a piercings kind of girl), so excuse me if I got anything wrong!

Harley is so excited by the idea of you wanting a tattoo that she wants to do it herself.

Words cannot begin to describe how terrible an idea that is (in all seriousness, do not tattoo yourself. go to a professional.)

She really wants you to have matching tattoos, like a heart or a diamond on your cheekbone like she is.

Don't even think about chickening out at the last minute. She’ll drag you kicking and screaming into that tattoo shop if she has to.

You're not allowed to be scared of needles if you're going to get tatted with Harley. Even if you weren't scared of needles before, she’ll make sure you don't develop a phobia overnight.

Harley has a few tattoos that she regrets getting and wants to cover up, so she’ll ask for your input on what she should get.

Diamonds are always a good motif for her, or maybe one of those cliche love hearts with the ribbon and arrow.

If having matching tattoos isn't your thing, Harley will pout about it for a couple of days, but once you show her the design, she’s forgotten about it.

Make sure you do your research on which shop to go to since Harley somehow has bad blood with people in almost every tattoo shop in Gotham. Some are run by people she’s never met.

Holds your hand through the process. Being tattooed isn't always a pleasant experience so if your pain tolerance isn’t very high, you can fall back on squeezing Harley’s hand until she thinks you've broken it.

Despite having so many tattoos herself, Harley hasn't always been the best at letting them heal.

She’s had moments where she’s taken the wrap off too early or poked at her skin and made it bleed, so you need to make sure she keeps her hands off them and keeps them clean.

[scornedlove]

Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHRIS

A couple of weeks had gone by since I promised myself I’d give Tae some space. It was disappointing that she’d only hit me up once since then, especially after I revealed so much to her the last time she was here. I really opened up to her in hopes of gaining her trust, maybe that’s why I’ve been buggin. Without her conversation, it’s hard to keep my mind off of Robyn. The last time I saw Robyn, she not only looked like a stranger, but she treated me like one too. Between her and Tae, my heart was torn and it was all too much to deal with. 

Every time I felt myself getting in my feelings, I’d hit the studio, blast some music, and paint. It was like having a therapy session, which is how I was spending my Friday afternoon. I was in my zone, finishing up my third project this week when Taylor called, inviting me to go riding with him.

“Hell yeah! I had fun last time, but I wanna take it out where I can really put some gas to it.” I suggested, jumping at the chance to borrow his motorcycle again.

“Alright, I got you. I know just the place.” he promised, before we hung up. I finished the painting I was working on and stepped back to look at the finished product. 

Diamond always gave the cutest pouty face when I wasn’t moving fast enough for her. I couldn’t get it out of my head, so I put it in paint. I snapped a picture of it and sent it to Tae before leaving, hoping that would put me on her mind.

“This chick wants me to meet her at the A for some drinks” Taylor announced when I got to his place.

“When ya’ll planning on doing that?”

“Right now, I told her 8. ″

“Then why you ask me to ride with you?” I asked, noticing it was fifteen til. “I’m not trying to be the third wheel”

“You won’t be. She’s bringing her roommate, so I told her I’d bring my brother” he added, with a smirk.

“I’m not going on a double date with you man, you know I got a girl.”

“It ain’t a date, unless you want it to be. I know that long distance shit ain’t gonna last too long.”

“Shut up fool. As long as you don’t get me in no shit, it’ll last as long as I want it to.”

“We’re just gonna hang for a bit, then take em on a ride. The ladies love that shit and I’m tryna get some ass tonight.”

“Well I’m not-”

“-Stop being a tight fuck. It ain’t all about them, come chill with ya bro.”

“Alright man, but don’t be mad if they both feeling me and you end up coming home empty handed” I teased as he tossed me the keys to his Harley.

We arrived twenty minutes later than expected due to traffic, but the girls still hadn’t made it. We found a spot at the bar, ordered a couple of beers, and watched the Saints play the Falcons while we waited.

“It’s looking like you got stood up lil bro” I stated when I noticed it was nine and still no sign of the chick he described.

“There she goes” he nodded towards the door when a familiar, dark skinned woman walked in. “She bad ain’t she?”

“Oh, hell naw. I heard this bitch was fuckin with Anthony a couple of weeks ago. You need to be caref-”

“Fuck Anthony. That’s yo homeboy. Besides, I’m always careful.” he stated, gulping down the rest of his beer before standing to greet Kiki.

“Small world. I would’ve never guessed y'all were brothers. Ryan gonna be shocked as fuck.” she cackled, getting comfortable next to Taylor as Ryan walked in. She was on the phone, eyes fixated on Kiki as she strutted past a couple of guys checking her out. She didn’t even notice me until she ended her call, a couple feet in front of me.

“Hey” she smiled, surprised to see me. “When Kiki told me she set me up on a blind date I was nervous as hell”

“Oh, this ain’t that.” I explained, tossing back the rest of my beer. She rolled her eyes at my bluntness and sat on the stool in between me and Kiki.

“Obviously, you shut that shit down already. I’m just glad you’re not some fucking weirdo.” she admitted and I couldn’t help but burst out in laughter.

“I see ya’ll are on good terms again” I nodded towards Kiki, who was cheesing like a schoolgirl while Taylor whispered in her ear. “I’m glad I didn’t get involved in that”

“Yeah, it didn’t take long for Anthony to hop on the next bitch” she shrugged nonchalantly. “How do you even know him? He doesn’t seem like someone you would associate with.”

“Shit, we go way back.  He’s changed for the worse, that’s for damn sure. ”

“Well, at least one good thing came from him”

“What’s that?”

“He’s got some good connects. He introduced me to a DJ who’s been working with me on a couple of songs, even helped me land a couple of gigs when we were on good terms.”

“Good. Sounds like things are looking up for you.”

“You have no idea. I’ve been crazy busy. Matter of fact, I’m performing for this charity event in a few weeks, you should come.”

“Oh yeah? Send me the info. This is a crazy time for me too, but I should be able to work it in”

“Alright, but let me know either way. Don’t just leave me hanging.” she replied, before getting the bartender’s attention. They ordered margaritas and we settled on one more beer while we watched a little more of the football game. I wasn’t interested in the game, or getting drunk. I was ready for the adrenaline rush from flying through traffic, so after the ladies finished their drinks, we hit the road.

It didn’t take long for me to regret agreeing to do this with the girls. I’ve been abstinent for a solid five months now, and I haven’t seen Tae in over a month. Having Ryan’s double D’s on my back and arms wrapped around my waist had my man standing tall. I did my best to keep it to myself, but she got a couple of feels in. 

Nevertheless, we rode across the Pacific Coast Highway to the infamous Neptune’s net, where we hung out for a little while, had dinner, and smoked a blunt by the beach, before heading back to the city. That’s when I realized those couple of feels weren’t an accident, they were intentional. I don’t know if it was because she was tipsy, but Ryan couldn’t keep her hands to herself. I was cool about it the first time, but then she slipped her hands in my pants while I was driving, and I damn near wrecked trying to pull over.

"If you want to make it home without having to find another way, you gonna have to keep your hands above my waist” 

“Were you feeling violated? Because it looks like you were enjoying it.”

“Fuck that. I’m tryna keep shit platonic between us, but if you can’t handle that we can’t do this anymore. I’ll find you a ride, but I’m not doing this with you”

“Fine. I’ll stop.” she stated, throwing her hands up in defeat. She behaved the rest of the ride, but when we made it to her place, she invited me in and was offended when I quickly declined.

“Well, you know where I am if you wanna talk or whatever” she stated before sashaying towards her front door. The deep ass swing in her hips made it evident she wanted more than a conversation.

I waited as she dug in her purse, searching for her keys until she gave up and made a call. By the look on her face as she walked towards me, I knew bad news was coming. 

“Kiki has my house key and she’s not answering. Is it cool if I stay at your place tonight?”

“You gotta be kidding” I sighed in disbelief. “Ya’ll set this shit up huh?”

“Really? Don’t flatter yourself. A simple yea or no will do” she sassed, almost tripping over her own foot. 

“What other choice do we have? Let’s go” I shrugged, handing her the helmet back. She was fucked up and I didn’t want to be here all night waiting for a damn key, so I decided we’d deal with it tomorrow. 

ROBYN

“I can’t believe I’m doing this”

“It looks great and it’s almost done, no need to fuss now” I reassured Mel as I wrapped my arms around her for comfort.

Today I finally went through with covering the matching tattoo Chris and I’d gotten a couple of years ago on some drunk on love shit. Halfway through, I almost chickened out, so Mel made me a deal. She said she was done with tattoos before, but if I went through with this one, she’d get one of my choice blindfolded. So here we were, both with swollen hands, only mine was three times the size of hers.

“Alright, ya’ll know the drill. Keep it clean and dry.” BB, my tattoo artist, stated once he finished her design. “and you really need to baby yours Robyn, here’s some extra ointment. It should help with the pain too.”

“Awww shit! This is dope!” Mel grinned after uncovering her eyes. Capturing moments was inked flawlessly in script on the side of her left hand.The moment we were settled in the back seat of John’s ride, she snapped a pic and sent it to J.  

“I’m obsessed! Girl, fucking with you, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it’s perfect. You did good”

“Give jack he jacket!  You know I don’t do you dirty!” I teased, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Yeah, but you been wilding ever since that shit with Chris and Dre.���

“Bitch, you not even supposed to be saying the C word” I snapped, narrowing my eyes at her.

“Speaking of Chr- I mean C. Has he reached out to you since?” she continued, ignoring my annoyance.

“No. I guess I scared the shit outta him when I mentioned the police, but Aundre’s ass won’t stop calling”

“So you’re not talking to him either?”

“Nope. I’m taking your advice and leaving both of they asses alone.“

“We’ll see how long that lasts” she snickered, rolling her eyes, as if she knew I was to weak to go through with it. I hated when she did that.

“Don’t do that.’

"What”

“Don’t play dumb. I’m sick of that shit.”

“Chill out, it ain’t that serious”

“I am serious Mel. Don’t shoot me down like that. Not everybody got they life figured out by 24.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She quizzed, shaking her head. “I’m still figuring this shit out too. Everything ain’t smooth sailing over here either.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I scoffed, crossing my arms and wincing from the pain of brushing my freshly tatted hand against my clothes.

“I don’t complain all the time and I don’t wear that shit on my sleeve, but yeah Rob, I be going through some shit too.”

“Like?”

“Like my husband working seventy hour weeks and my married boss flirting and making passes at me all the fucking time”

“Michael?”

“Yeah, anytime we’re alone together he gets a little too close and happens to accidentally brush up against me the wrong way or says something sexually cryptic ”

“You lying! He’s fine as hell, but don’t fuck around with a married man. Matter of fact, you should just leave that job. These things always end up ugly”

“I’m not stupid, but I’m not leaving my job either.”

“Why not?”

“The amount of money I’m making with him is crazy, I ain’t gonna get that anywhere else.”

“Girl please, you have J. Who cares about the money? It ain’t worth the money, you need to quit”

“Easy for you to say. I’'m finally making good money and I’m not ready to let it go. Over a couple of ass grabs? Naw, imma milk this cow. Maybe I’ll be able to open my own shit one day.”

“Well all I gotta say is don’t slip up and lose ya husband over nothing stupid.”

“I would never jeopardize my marriage. J has made me a better person in so many ways, I’d be stupid to fuck up something this good. ”

“Fi true” I agreed, before John Legend’s All of Me started blaring from her phone.

“This my baby calling now” she gasped, a smile creeping across her face as she answered in her sexy voice. I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous as they flirted back and forth. I had to turn my attention to the starry sky in order to successfully tune her out. Instead of obsessing over my own sad love life, I  looked for constellations while reminding myself of all the frogs she had to kiss in order to find her prince. 

CHRIS

“CHRIS WHAT THE FUCK!” Tae’s unmistakable voice pierced my ears, snatching me from dreamland. It took a minute for it to register that she was standing right in front of me. Then I realized why she was screaming.

“Get up Ry-” I attempted to wake Ryan’s drunk ass up, but she was out cold. We passed out sitting up on the sofa watching Rush Hour, I don’t know how her head ended up on my lap. It may have looked a little bad, but Tae was definitely exaggerating.

“SO THIS IS WHAT YOU REALLY DO WHEN YOUR BY YOURSELF! I KNEW  IT. YOU’RE A LIAR! ”

“BABE!” I yelled over her to get her attention. “You buggin. We’re fully clothed. Nothing happened.”

“And that makes this okay? Your fucking ex is laying in your lap!” Lose my number!” she screamed throwing my key at me and running out the house.

My mind was yelling for me to run after her, but my legs wouldn’t move. Is that really all it took for her to walk out on me again? If so, what is the point of this long distance shit? What was she even doing in Cali? I haven’t talked to her in days and she just randomly shows up to act like this. I had so many questions, but at the same time, I didn’t care for a single answer. I felt a weight lift from my shoulders as I realized something. I’m single again. 

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 20

A/N: Short chapter, my little loves. I promise, I’ll make it up to you all!

 Several days passed before I found time to speak to Colt again. The heat of summer simmered to a boil now, and the city was booming with business. Well, my business anyway. The business of fighting. There were weeks I easily attended no less than 4 fights, leaving little hours in the day to manage the gym, sleep, and work. Tia wasn’t pleased with the slack in my workouts, but with no choice had to accept that my career came first on the list pf importance.

One particular mid-morning as I sat with now numbing bottom cheeks, and dozing eyes during a mandatory sales meeting with the entire floor, I felt a slight vibration in the silk lining of my linen blazer. A text message. 

Colton: Good morning, L. If you can find the time in your so very busy schedule, would ya’ mind giving me a call?

Liv: Good morning, you.  In a meeting. Call soon.

A couple minutes passed, a reply.

Colton: Not that I’m desperately waiting or anything. But I’m desperately waiting.

20 minutes of closing messages from the Pilot’s owner who had flown in from Chicago, felt as if they passed like the slow oozing of thick, maple syrup. The single thought on my mind was hearing his gruffy, morning-time rasp on the receiving end of my phone call. The wall of reserve I had trapped him behind, was crumbling messily like a piece of the Parthenon. The tapping of my toes was probably rattling the office ceiling on the level beneath me as I waited for an answer. One ring, two. Three. Four.

Damn it, I’m gonna get voicemail.

“Hello, Miss Elliott.” There he was. I had previously went well over 400 days without hearing that voice, and yet here I was panting after not hearing it for a measly week.

“What can I do for you this morning, sir?” My voice no doubt breaking from nerves.

“How was your big important meeting? They make you the boss lady yet?”

“You didn’t hear? I bought the place out. I’ll be a millionaire before the year is up.” The hoarse laugh my joke pulled from him was all the satisfaction I’d needed for the day.

“Remember us little people, ight? No, really. I did have something I wanted to ask you about.” I was unsure of where he was leading the conversation, but I was picking up the bread crumbs to discover the mystery.

“Okay, you’ve got my attention.” If anyone happened to glance through the open window pane of my door, they would’ve seen a grown woman, much resembling the likes of a 13-year-old teen talking to the class hunk on her cordless home phone, chomping the bits out of an oversized wad of gum. I wondered if he’d still be sending butterflies loose in my belly in the next 20 years.

“Would you uh, maybe consider goin’ out with me this weekend?”

I wanted more than anything to say no. I wanted to keep him biting the baited hook a wee bit longer. But, before I even parted my lips to answer, I knew I was going to take him up on the offer. I can’t recall exactly, but I know there was some God-forsaken, over-the-top 90’s ballad chiming in my own head.

“Are you asking me on a date, Ritter?” He was going to say it, I wanted to leave him without a shred of dignity just this once.

“I am, 2-1. If that’s alright with you?”

YES! FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, YES.

“I’d be happy to. Do I get any details about this date?” Is it possible to die from an overflow of happiness? Like, a happy heart attack? I feared I might be the first occurrence.

“Nope. You’re gonna have t’ wait it out, nosey!” He hadn’t forgot that journalistic character flaw apparently. Brief goodbyes were swapped, and I’d swear he held quiet on the other line waiting for me to hang up first. Not that the ever-ruminating man would’ve owned up to that charge.

 The eve of what felt strangely similar to our first date, he had gotten in touch with minimal information, only telling me we’d probably be outdoors if the weather cooperated, and asked politely if I had any requests for the evening. Without any reservation or dwelling on the possibilities I could’ve ran wild with, I only asked if we could take the bike rather than his truck. I missed it. Whether it be the dangerously close proximity it forced our bodies into, or the roaring sputters of the engine under us, I just missed it. I would’ve kissed him had he been present for his remark.

Colton: Missed the ol’ Harley, did ya’? It’s a good thing I replaced that little tear on the seat that ripped your skirt then. I’ll gas her up for you. Anything for my girl.

No labels of a relationship had been discussed, but deep down, he knew I was his girl. I knew it. Tia knew it. Andrew knew it. My boss probably knew it. Hell, the cashier at Whole Foods probably even knew it. I didn’t bother with arguing the title.

With the mode of transportation was decided, and I had been warned we’d be spending time outdoors, I had to adjust my attire according. The dress I had settled on no longer an applicable contestant, I pulled out a khaki, pocketed utility romper. The elastic of the airy, cotton sleeve binded around my mid-forearm, leaving my new bangles on clear display around my wrist. A loose braid settled low on my neck, tied with a matching floral scarf I was doubling as a ribbon-like accessory. Flat gold sandals, and midnight black aviator sunglasses punctuated the very thought through ensemble.

I was seated in a lawn chair right outside my door, listening intently for the approaching rev of a motorcycle, and frowning at the painfully wilted potted daisies I had unintentionally neglected this summer. I reviewed the pep talk I had given myself earlier in the bathroom mirror that probably would’ve had me committed, but it had taken the edge off of my stage fright, so when I saw him wheel into the lot, I didn’t feel like fainting. Entirely…  

I stood instantly for a clearer view of him pulling the helmet from his head, desperately pining for a glance of his gorgeous, relaxed face. His lids were slightly squinted due to the blinding of the sun that wouldn’t be setting for several hours, and he had definitely groomed his auburn locks, and matching facial scruff for the occasion. I should’ve descended the stairs quicker, but I wanted to spy on him from the shadows for as long as discretion allowed. His clothing rang tried and true to his usual sense of fashion, in dark denim worn out at the knee, and a crisp, bright white tee, with 3 small buttons at the neck. He’d left all but the lowest unclasped, and his sleeves cried out in a wide stretch over his more tanned, tatted arms. 

“My chariot awaits, huh?” I lulled seductively behind my still covered eyes. He had just hung the helmet over the handlebar when my presence apparently startled him due to the jumpy way he turned about face.

“Shined it up just for you.”

“Little ol’ me? You shouldn’t have.” The harmless courting  already underway was  setting a frisky tone for the evening ahead.

Without a reply to my open-ended question, he strolled with purpose closer to me ruffling a hand over his head. He pulled me into his embrace with an antagonizing timely pace, and my spine busted with pops loudly beneath his tight arms. I didn’t want to break free, but I was sick with curiosity of what he had planned for the two of us, so I pulled back hesitantly.

“You ready to head out?” I smiled. My old friend, the familiar helmet was handed to me as he moved to get settled on the drivers seat.

“Let’s get this show on the road, gorgeous.”   

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

[jokerfic]

Does Harley have any piercings or tattoos? What would the Joker think? If Emma and Harley got matching tats, what would they be?

her ears are pierced and you know I bet she had her belly button pierced as a teen but just not being able to wear anything in it during practice/competitions meant she slowly just kind of forgot about it so it’s not really in use these days

I don’t think she has tattoos, she kind of got busy after age 18 and never really got around to them. now she has her diamond scars and those kind of work in lieu of ink. (the Joker doesn’t have much of an opinion on piercings or tattoos except that they-- especially visible tattoos-- are an identifier and make it harder to slip under the radar when she needs to, so he probably wouldn’t be thrilled if she got one on the face or hands etc, given that between the two of them she’s the one that can dress down and go in public without issues right now)

as far as matching tattoos for Emma and Harley, this immediately popped into mind:

just a simple little black one somewhere easy to hide under clothing!

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[cupidquinn-moved]

BASIC.

FULL NAME. Harleen Quinzel NICKNAME. Harley Quinn, The Cupid of Crime  BIRTHDAY. July 20 ETHNIC GROUP.  white  NATIONALITY.  American   LANGUAGE.  English, some Latin, and Spanish  RELATIONSHIP STATUS. single  CLASS. lower HOME TOWN / AREA. Brooklyn   CURRENT HOME. Gotham City PROFESSION. semi-professional criminal, scam artist, mercenary?, former psychiatrist

PHYSICAL.

HAIR. natural blonde (though probably a more of a dirty blonde), bottle bleach blonde, often coloured two toned black and red or blue and pink, sometimes the whole head, but often a dip dyed ombre  EYES. blue NOSE. small, cute  FACE. conventionally pretty, somewhat baby faced, high cheekbones, dimple in her chin, strong jaw. COMPLEXION. decent, normal. I’d like to think part of the reason she stopped wearing the harlequin costume and makeup was due to how hard the latter was on her skin considering she went with greasepaint and wasn’t always able or willing to wash it off properly and she got sick of the breakouts. SCARS. many, small thin scars along her body (mostly back and arms) and a few on her face from when Joker pushed her out a window in addition to various other scars from “on the job injuries TATTOOS. I like tattoos so I have no problem with what they have going down with Harley’s heavily tatted aesthetic in the films of a late. However, in the comics, most artists seem to give her a black or red heart or red diamond under one eye (and that’s about it). Personally, I prefer the red diamond over the heart because ya know. It’s kinda her thing.  HEIGHT. 5′7 (168cm) WEIGHT: 140 lbs (63.5 kg)  BUILD. very toned with muscular legs and arms. She could have been an Olympian and it shows. Practiced gymnastics for years and has incorporated it in with her fighting style.   ALLERGIES.  none USUAL HAIR STYLE. Likes to wear her hair in double ponytails, one on each side.  USUAL CLOTHING. Harley has a very flashy, fashion forward style. As a general rule she takes a lot of inspiration from punk aesthetic and frequently mixes and matches textures, patterns, and colours. Often colour blocks red and black for costumes, Opts for clothes she can move easily in that’s also sexy. She likes to feel cute.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR. That she’s really no different from the Joker at the end of the day. (Also, being alone) ASPIRATION. Living her best life! Occasionally to be taken seriously as a supervillain. POSITIVE TRAITS. Fun, charming, and friendly, she loves to meet people. Loyal to a fault.  NEGATIVE TRAITS. Obsessive, temperamental, wildly impulsive VICE HABIT.  bad boys/girls, junk food FAITH.  nah GHOSTS? In theory AFTERLIFE? maybe? REINCARNATION? maybe?  ALIENS? absolutely POLITICAL ALIGNMENT. anarchist ECONOMIC PREFERENCE. Hmmm...not something she’s really considered, probably something profoundly radical like let’s just throw away money and start over with shiny stones idek SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION. Despite being a beautiful white woman, Harley is heavily marginalized as a criminal that’s also struggled with mental illness and still does (though never as bad as when she’s with Joker who heavily exacerbates her PTSD). She can’t vote, is barred from having a driver’s license due to  previous charges frequently involving vehicular related crimes,  and her infamy affects most mundane interactions. This was really interestingly explored in a Harley-centric episode in Batman: The Animated Series in which after being released from Arkham, she got into a bunch of misunderstandings around town that lead to her wigging out and deliberately reverting to her violent tendencies as she became more and more stressed.  EDUCATION LEVEL.  has a phD in psychiatry

FAMILY. (Note: I cherry pick Harley’s personal history since it’s been aggressively retconned again and again and over and over to the point that she’s almost as bad as Joker. Her family has been portrayed in many iterations, but I most liked how it was done in Gotham City Sirens, so that’s the version I’ve picked)

FATHER.  Nick Quinzel MOTHER.  Sharon Quinzel  SIBLINGS.  Barry Quinzel EXTENDED  FAMILY.  a neice and nephew Jenny and Nicky respectively NAME MEANING. Harleen:  Old English origin, and the meaning of Harleen is "hare land" Quinzel: Could be a German last name meaning “spiked bird” or “ray of sun” it could also simply be an elaboration on Quinn by the writers of B:TAS. Her name in general was chosen as pun to reference the harlequin. She took the name Harley Quinn because Joker remarked that her name reminded of harlequin and he preferred it to her given name. HISTORICAL CONNECTION.  This is actually really interesting, you should give it a read and it’s actually pretty impressive to realize how much of the trope relates to Harley, whether it be deliberate or happy accident.

FAVOURITES.

BOOKS.  She prefers light hearted things like romance novels and reads comics. Ever since she had her psychotic break, she finds it exceedingly difficult to concentrate and sit still for long periods of time.

MUSIC. punk rock! pop rock! eighties nostalgia! Rap/Hip hop! power pop! electronica! K-pop! Girl groups! Boy Groups! If she can dance to it or fight to it, she loves it

DEITY. nah

HOLIDAY.  Christmas or her Birthday

MONTH. July

SEASON. Summer

PLACE. Amusement parks

WEATHER. warm but not too hot

SOUND.  of a party!

SCENT.  cotton candy, gunmetal, pink gum

TASTE.  cherries, strawbarries, watermelon

FEEL. leather, corsets, the cool sensation of jewelry on the skin

ANIMAL.  hyena

NUMBER. 69 (nice)

COLOUR. red

EXTRA.

TALENTS. acrobatic, crack shot, can pick a lock, clean a gun, make a bomb, code switch on a whim, great dancer TURN ONS. bad boys, bad girls, danger, being treated like a human TURN OFFS.  when someone is just a little toooooo nice, poor sense of style, boredom HOBBIES. makes her own clothes, playing video games, reading, planning heists/crimes TROPES.  Anti-Villain / Anti-Hero,  Genius Ditz,  Love Makes You Crazy,  Villain Protagonist AESTHETICS. dancefloor lighting, anything that glitters, metal studs in leather, fantasy hair, a flash of dangerous metal, the sound of carnival games, smeared makeup, bruises, hello kitty band-aids

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC. Margot Robbie ALT  FC. comic representation OLDER  FC. haven’t really considered it YOUNGER FC. see previous answer VOICE  CLAIM. Arleen Sorkin

[jokers-sweethearts]

So in my free time I like to design tattoos just for fun and I got to thinking. What would CP's first tattoo be (like location wise and design) and when do you think Joker and Harley would let her get it? Sorry if this is like weird but I hope you're having a fantabulous day!!!

Not weird at all I loooove talking about their tats! No doubt in my mind it would be something matching. I often think, since Joker has his skull with the jester hat on his chest and Harley has a smaller, slightly different version om her back that CP would get one too. Maybe a skull/jester hat with a small tiara or crown on it to match her parents and showcase who she is. Also since it's something that shows her connection to them and Joker would apply it himself, probably later teen years she'd be able to get it.

[dudja]

MAJILLA - HARLEY QUINN (PROD. RAZZ) by MAJILLA IG: @MAJILLAMUSIC Twitter: @DAMNMAJILLA LYRICS: [intro: MAJILLA] Bad bitch got a lip Grab her by the hair And bend her over get a grip When I get behind that ass Applaud me for the tip Slip a couple hunnids' In that G I'm bout to rip Cause she know what it is Yeah [Verse 1: MAJILLA] Blue strips got the crisp We got matching whips Lover turned accomplice On and off again Daddy's Little Monster Tatted on her skin Easy to persuade her Difficult to hate when I'm [Hook: MAJILLA] Chillin' with a villian On my shoulder Hands her favorite necklace Like a choker Yeah yeah, yeah yeah Have her face down Call that poker She my Harley Quinn And I'm her Joker Yeah, yeah, yeah [Post-Hook: MAJILLA] Cause she gon' ride with me Cause she gon' die with me I don't need no helping hand I got that nine with me Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me I don't need nobody else If I got mines with me [Break: MAJILLA] Love don't come with rules Got the bullets in the bag I do this shit for you My hearts the crime scene Where you at don't say you Left me to What hurts the most Comes from the past I know that shit is true But I still fuck with you Yeah [Verse 2: MAJILLA] Murder that we wrote Blood is for the oath Whip don't got no ceiling No room for feelings Bodies hit the floor Don't want no smoke She love the thrill Nothing but time to kill When I'm [Hook: MAJILLA] Chillin' with a villian On my shoulder Hands her favorite necklace Like a choker Yeah yeah, yeah yeah Have her face down Call that poker She my Harley Quinn And I'm her Joker Yeah, yeah, yeah [Post-Hook: MAJILLA] Cause she gon' ride with me Cause she gon' die with me I don't need no helping hand I got that nine with me Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me I don't need nobody else If I got mines with me [Bridge: MAJILLA] No need to pretend Take it off Jesus died for lines We bout to cross Halo's are for angels Let them watch We don't play by the rules Whats the caution? You've got a problem, yeah Your lips love making me The topic, yeah Whats crazy when The love is toxic? Don't want to be alone You'd rather be an option So I'm [Hook: MAJILLA] Chillin' with a villian On my shoulder Hands her favorite necklace Like a choker Yeah yeah, yeah yeah Have her face down Call that poker She my Harley Quinn And I'm her Joker Yeah, yeah, yeah [Post-Hook: MAJILLA] Cause she gon' ride with me Cause she gon' die with me I don't need no helping hand I got that nine with me Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me I don't need nobody else If I got mines with me Outro: Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me Cause she gon' slide with me Cause she gon' vibe with me She my Harley Quinn And I'm her Joker Written by MAJILLA Produced by RAZZ

[becomingalx]

So, brief background: -born in Seattle WA -moved to Huntsville AL at three -in second grade, the only outfit I ever wanted to wear ever was dubbed "the boy outfit," an outfit from the boys section. I loved those shorts and shirt so much and wore them as much as I could -mom said raising me was like raising a little boy, and my mannerism were more male -my sister and I played pretend games almost exclusively and I ALWAYS wanted to be the boy mermaid, or the boy elf, or the boy gingerbread man (yes, we would pretend we were gingerbread people. Also one time I was the boy squirrel) -sister and I also loved learning dances from movies like HSM and Camp Rock, I never wanted to learn the girl parts ever (we still know and perform Bop to the Top lmaoo) -my entire life I've ALWAYS wanted a moustache and facial hair ask anyone -started attending a tiny ass private Christian school in fourth grade, uniforms and all. I hated the skirts so much, whenever I wasn't in school I was always just jeans and tshirts and converses, up through graduating -started noticing girls third/fourth grade -didn't know what "homosexuality" was until fifth grade -attended a "spirit filled non denominational" church 4-12 grade. Very campy and cliquey. Met my group of friends (a few are my ride or dies) via the puppet team, now we're all Queer AF it's ridiculous. Except for my sis -each year in high school, you had to present a thesis speech on your research paper, controversial topics preferred/required. Junior year, my topic was "the proper Christian response to homosexuality." No one listened and the principal yelled and then the topic was banned -didn't even really know what trans meant until almost done with high school. It was a super close minded and small and conservative school,, bible verses in the math books & singing hymns each morning etc -started college in 2012 at UAB in Birmingham AL, fully accepted my bisexuality end of my freshman year -started dating a guy 2013 (hereafter referred to as The Joker) started dressing more feminine than I had ever before. In retrospect it was because him #gross -we were polyamoros, and started dating a girl (hereafter referred to as Harley) in 2016, about six months after he moved to my same city. I met her in 2015 during a Harry Potter lit class -they ended up falling in love with each other and out of love with me, we were all living together in my tiny studio, it got rly abusive rly quick, they got married so she could have health insurance because she's really sick with endometriosis, he cheated on us, But essentially they didn't care about me or my feelings and were NOT EVER affectionate, and I started realising that I deserve to be loved the way I need to be loved, and I was stringingmyself out for both of them and not taking care of myself at ALL -a few weeks I broke up with them, I was recording a video for the Joker where I was just venting about things I never got to talk about, and it came out that I didn't really feel like a girl anymore -he ignored that part. Like totally. Everything else was more or less addressed -but since I had said it, it was out there, and I couldn't stop thinking about it. It was so true and it resonated and I needed to chase it -I talked to Harley about it, and she *seemed* very receptive and open, but turns out she was texting her mom EVERYTHING I was saying and badmouthing me -like at one point I mentioned in passing, to my girlfriend, that I might want to get a wallet for my back pocket. And she even told her mom that -I found out texts while using her computer at work one day, and her iMessage was logged in and pinging. Yes, I know i shouldn't have snooped. But I saw my name and I wanted to know. I was already suspicious and feeling negative and it was basically the end. But it was so disgusting, what my girlfriend, who supposedly loved me, was saying -confronted and it was my fault for looking -broke up with them on thanksgiving night -graduated college -cut off all my hair -made a new year resolution to live 2017 for myself. This is the first time in my life i'm living with my own interests in mind. It's amazing -gradually dressing more and more masc, everything else feels wrong. Most "feminine" routines I try seem so wrong (nails, shaving, makeup,) Made the switch to boxer briefs and I L O V E T H E M. Got my binder -updated my gross triad triangle tattoo to be a glyph that means transition. It's behind my ear, feels so amazing knowing that it's not an ill-gotten matching tat anymore -visited a gender counsellor for the first time last Wednesday

[momscookingthebooks]

BOOK REVIEW:  Trick

AUTHOR:  Laramie Briscoe

GENRE: Contemporary Romance

PUBLICATION DATE:  January 13, 2016

CLIFF HANGER:  No

4 Stars

*This story is for mature audiences only. Contains explicit scenes and language intended for adults 18+

SYNOPSIS:

Hadley When my husband walked out on me over a year ago, it devastated me. When the divorce papers came, it killed me. When we had to sell our house, it broke me.  But then he moved in with his new flavor of the month and told our daughter his new woman wasn’t into children. That pissed me off. Now Riley feels abandoned, and I can’t make it better; no matter how hard I try. I’m desperate to help her adjust to the loss of a male figure in her life. The companion program that matches adults up with children who have loneliness and abandonment issues is my last hope.  The counselors tell me he’s doing community service hours, and I ask to sit in on his meetings with Riley. The minute I see him astride the matte black Harley, I know neither my nor Riley’s life will ever be the same again. Trick Community Service. Two words I should be thankful for, but I’m not. I resent the hours it’s away from building my business. The two previous kids I'd been paired up with didn’t work out because their mothers were more interested in getting in my bed. This next match with a little girl is my last hope. Unless this kid works out, I’m destined to serve time. When they push her into the room wearing pink converse with a black dress, her crazy curls barely held back by the barrette in her hair, and studious glasses on her face, I can tell she’s scared - of new people, of change, of being pushed aside. Something inside of me breaks, and I want this girl to feel wanted again. What I’m unprepared for is meeting her mom. The second our hands touch, there are fireworks, bright lights, and a picture of the future I could one day have. The future I’ve never allowed myself to wish for. Community service becomes more than a chore, more than time I resent for being taken away from me. In the months that follow, I realize they’re just like me: they’ve been abandoned, left behind by the world, forgotten by those who should love them. Thanks to the one last hope in both our lives - we found the light in the darkness we’d been searching for.

MY THOUGHTS:

This is book has sweet sexy heat. They have chemistry, but they can’t act on it. The electricity is crackling and they deny it, but for Riley and for his community service they must be friendly, but not too friendly. The electricity builds until the dam breaks and they fall. Hard.

Riley is absolutely adorable. She has a shy and sweet personality, but once she warms up, she is so engaging and Patrick (Trick) Tennyson can’t help but lose his heart to this little girl. He can’t understand why her father doesn’t want anything to do with her.

Patrick is the handsome, sexy, tatted bad boy that rides a Harley. He also has a sweet, caring soul. He’s an ex-con that made stupid mistakes when he was younger and he continues to pay for them. He is building his own business as a mechanic and is working hard to try and get his life back on track. Patrick has a sad backstory and he understands what Hadley and Riley are going through. Hadley also has a sad past and dealing with her ex-husband, ugh.

Hadley’s first impression when she sees Trick is she’s in trouble! She was angry at him when they first met because he was late to their first meeting and she didn’t want to see Riley disappointed again by yet another man. Trick said that he didn’t make promises, but said he wouldn’t be late again and wouldn’t do anything to disappoint Riley. He worked at making both Riley and Hadley very happy.

Hadley couldn’t fall in love again. What would happen if it didn’t work out and she and Riley ended up more broken than before? She couldn’t put Riley through that. Her heart told her different; she couldn’t help but fall for this sweet, gorgeous, giving man!

I won’t give anymore away. There are a few twists in the plot and the epilogue is awesome. I fully enjoyed every page of this story and highly recommend it.

ARC kindly provided by Give Me Books Promotions and the author for an honest review.

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing

[rebelstreetclothing]

https://rebelstreetclothing.com/blogs/news/every-man-should-date-a-goth-girl

She changed my life in ways she could fathom, although I don't have any idea who that eighth grader was.

It was I was introduced to a particular -- Fashion? Lifestyle? Fetish? -- that's since become my greatest aesthetic quirk. All men have a kind -- a few are into your regular breastaurant waitress mold, others are to the tatted up neo-pin-up template, and many others are all about the artsy-fartsy nerd chic -- and it was here, I assume, that I developed mine: the all-American goth chick.

Now, at the moment, we did not call them "goths." In actuality, we did have an term of both genders, who wore three pounds of eyeliner everyday and wore all donned spiky jewellery. Some called them "the other children," some called them "skaters" (which none of them possessed skateboards, apparently, meant very little) but by and large, the other students called them as either "the freaks" or "the weirdos." The rest of the kids before Columbine -- were terrified. Rumors spread that They did needle drugs and hung out together on the weekends and practiced magic charms. While blaring Marilyn Manson they chainsawed hobos behind Costco to passing. Granted, the worst items they actually did was smoke cigarettes away from the movie theater and perhaps shoplift a couple of malt liquors, but they embraced the paranoia and dread the other pupils fostered for them. In a way, it made them over the junior high totem, which makes them a more effective caste system force than even the preppiest of preps.

And there was something about that I discovered inherently attractive. I found them alluring, while everybody found the women to be terrifying. Others believed their morbid, sadsack dispositions was the turnoff, but I thought it strangely entranced.

She was the first crush of my own adolescence. Even now, I've no hint what her name was, but I won't ever forget seeing her at the bus stop for the first time. Curling her auburn coif out of her eyes -- showing a pair of peppers outlined in what I presumed was an whole bottle of dollar store lashes -- she smiled a sinister smile and asked me, with the playful lunacy of Harley Quinn, "what you staring at, curly?"



I never reacted. But each time she saw me in the hallway, she would take me that half-playful, half-evil smile and say something along the lines of "hello, curled, how you doing?" I guess she thought she was freaking me, but deep down, I adored the focus (god knows, she was the only girl in the sixth grade who ever acknowledged my life.) Forget tans, forget the blindingly blonde hair and forget that all too dull "girl next door" look -- I was eternally enamored by the women who seemed more Morticia Addams compared to Christina Aguilera.

During high school and college, I more or less homed in on each of the pale girls who wore Invader Zim tops and loathed their parents. Really, my very first makeout was having a woman wearing a literal pentagram on her brow and I had been introduced to the joys of carnal pleasure with a young woman whose whole makeup chest was full of nothing but novelty Halloween lipsticks and nail polishes. Throughout these relationship sojourns, I discovered a seldom spoken truth concerning the "goth girl" motif/stereotype. Actually, I soon learned that there are really five genuses of goth woman, each with her Own idiosyncratic quirks:

THE RICH, SUBURBAN GOTH -- Her father makes $150,000 a year and her mother lets her spend $500 at a time on naturally Hot Topics buys (usually, Hello Kitty-branded lip gloss and anime-inspired belt buckles.) Really, she likes to wear a lot, although she claims to be a poetic soul. She's at least three Nightmare Before Christmas posters in her room along with the heaviest ring she listens to is AFI.

THE POOR, ANTI-SOCIAL GOTH -- She lives in a trailer park, works part-time in the local grocery store or hole in the wall restaurant (usually on the rear of the home -- they do not want her spider tattoos creeping out the clients) and has attempted at least 80 percent of all of the drugs known to man. The only thing in her handbag are the cigarettes at 7-Eleven, a few wadded bills and a switchblade. She will break up, if she does not have at least one felony on her record.

THE ARTISANAL GOTH -- She gets good grades, she is most likely the best actress in the theatre department and she spends her evenings studying Dante's Inferno from the original Italian, as it is more atmospheric like that. Her dream is to obtain a art endowment to produce the world's biggest ball of sculpture.

THE FASHIONISTA GOTH -- She's hyper-concerned about her looks. You absolutely can't leave the home till she has her winged eyeliner down. Every day she paints her nails and she makes at least one visit to Ulta. From the time she graduates college, she is usually evolved into a "health goth" or abandoned the aesthetics entirely for a new lifestyle that allots for pink and yellow wardrobe options.

THE UNKEMPT GOTH -- The reverse of this fashionista goth. She apparently just wants to kiss you shortly after she sucked down a Camel cigarette or peeled off her lips her dragon-shaped bong. Her jewelry is pewter, she farts in public and she spends at least half of their afternoon playing League of Legends. She like the poor goth, except sans the penchant for criminality. After all, to do so you must get up off the couch.

Yeah, sometimes you get a mix of three or two of these, but by and large? Each subset has its advantages and disadvantages, its flaws and benefits, something to admire and love and something to detest and hate. And men, I think you owe it yourself to experience all five of those sub-goths before you get your bachelor's degree. Why? Because goth women -- for better or worse -- represent the most varied range of feminine character types. While some are pretentious and -- ironically -- stuck-up some are cool. They will make you laugh, they will make you cry, they will make you think notions that are existential that are profound and they will -- by design, perhaps -- make you want to kill yourself. Even as fleeting, transitory relationships, they offer you something to consider about both the fairer sex and that what you are as an individual. You date nothing but club women or cheerleaders or nerds for a year, and you won't learn any nobler truths. Spend a year dating only goth women, however, and an whole cosmos of previously unrevealed knowledge befalls you. Hell, you may even find one which is just the ideal match, and who knows?

But maybe the biggest motive to date goth women even though you're a young dude? Because, to put it simply, existing at age 25 stops. They're professionals today, and they must terraform themselves to that dull, staid, office drone appearance. Adios blouse with sayonara eggplant eyeshadow and the shoulder pads. The ring comes out, the Doc Martens proceed the Cureshirts and the thrift shop are locked away never to see the light of day. You can always locate a bubbly cheerleader or artsy geek kind when you're 30 and 40. But the red-blooded goth? You have got up until your senior year in school, and that is pretty much your last opportunity to land one your own age.

For those of you have been pursuing a darker kind? Bear in mind, the clock is running out, and the sands of time are falling by a lot. And you don't need to visit your grave not knowing what it is like to make out with a woman wearing lipstick to midnight, do you?

Rebel Street Clothing