A/N: Well, hello there. It’s been a while. This request has been sitting in my inbox for decades and I’ve only just found the motivation, inspiration, and dedication to write this up. What in damnation. This one… It’s not my favourite, let’s just put it that way. And also, I’ve made Harley seem like such a bimbo in this so I apologise, it was just a writing technique to create a contrast. But anyways, this was fun to write, taking some inspiration from my muse in my RP’s, thank you very much, @thekrazykeke and @i-got-that-smilex my darlings, I love you. So enjoy this one, my loves, and I’ll see you next time x.
Request: Hi! If you’re still doing requests could you do one where the reader is Mr. J’s tattoo artist, the only one he hasn’t killed. Maybe have a jealous Harley in it.
Warning(s): Swearing, slight (sexual) violence i.e. choking, sexual references, light dirty talk, Cheater!Joker, Jealous!Harley
Word count: 2,166
Pairing(s): Joker x Reader / Joker x OC (Original Character) / Joker x Harley
The bell dinged, signifying yet another customer entering the already crowded tattoo studio. Mind you, it was a Saturday at 1:19pm in the middle of a busy city - Gotham; to be exact.
City of Crime.
Has a ring to it.
Even though the dangerous city had quite the crude reputation to be… crooked, let’s say, she loved living in it. It was just something about living life on the edge - never really knowing whether the next day would be her last - that excited her and she couldn’t get enough of the rush that came with it.
Though of course, the perks also came with a few disadvantages, that many would say would be a little too colossal of a problem and would turn them away from moving to the crime-ridden town.
You know, just a tad of a turn-off.
She had run into - well, saw at the corner of a street and then swivelled in the other direction as fast as she could - many a criminal during her occasional strolls through the underworld.
Don’t take a midnight stroll on the wrong side of town, I’m telling you. It’s not a good idea.
There was one special occasion, however.
Meeting the one, the only, the infamous, Joker: Clown Prince of Crime - the ‘Jester of Genocide’, if you will - under the pale moonlight oddly drew her being towards him in some sort of way. Which way that was, she didn’t know herself yet. Maybe curiosity, maybe incredulity, maybe attraction, but she was certainly intrigued by the acid-washed man.
Now, the woman wasn’t an idiot, nor ignorant, at that. She had acknowledged the presence of his partner in crime - his Harley Quinn - nevertheless, she persisted in trying to get into his circle of trust, to be his friend, in an obscure form.
You would think being his tattoo artist wouldn’t get her very far, huh?
She was the only tattoo artist within a 3 mile radius of his unknown location in which he and Harley lived.
I wasn’t kidding when I said the tattoo studio was crowded. How much do you wanna bet getting a micro-sized rose on your ankle is? Joker made sure she was earning as much as your standard lawyer or doctor in the city by taking the liberty to act on some pretty drastic measures.
Basically, he execute every other tattoo artist in the general area, to put it simply.
But as one can imagine, his significant other would be slightly suspicious, and that was to be expected when your man paid special and notable attention to another woman. Yes, jealously wasn’t exactly an aspired trait in a normal relationship. But anyone who knew about them and their past knew that Harley Quinn and her Joker were anything but ordinary.
Jumping into a VAT full of bubbling acid to prove your love for a psychopath who manipulated you?
No thank you.
Although, with saying that, the adrenaline-addicted tattoo artist from a family background was seemingly willing to do anything and everything but.
“I was thinking about a new lip tattoo, whaddya think?” A deep yet velvety voice broke her from her trance and snapped her back to reality where she noticed she had just been staring out of the recently cleaned, sparkling window, wielding a tattoo pen that was still whirring from inscribing her art onto her last customer - she had forgotten to turn the machine off before spacing out.
Quickly switching the it off, she swallowed before looking up at the blindingly green-haired man standing in front of the mirror and pulling at his bottom lip, inspecting.
“Well if you want it to say "P U S S Y”, count me out.“ She retorted with a quick wit, something she never really understood if it was a gift or a curse. Her sharp tongue usually got her into some hefty trouble more than a few times. But hey, she was comical.
Her comment earned a chuckle from him which in turn made her smile to herself. Making him laugh was always a daily mission for her. To see him smile because of what she did or said was always an achievement.
"That’s why I like you, doll. You always have some sarcastic remark. It’s refreshing. Hearing the words "yes, Daddy” and “play with me, Daddy” from Harls everyday gets repetitive over time.“ He sauntered over after checking himself once over in the mirror - vain bastard - and sat on the extended tattoo couch, now level with her, as she had been sitting in her spinny chair, whilst she discarded of her old rubber gloves and put on a new pair, the sound of the material smacking against her skin as she pulled on them.
"Oh, I’m sure it must be very tiring to have kinky sex on the daily, J.” She rolled her eyes as she used his nickname that only certain people were allowed to call him. He normally only allowed others to refer to him as “Joker” or “Mister J”. She snickered at the glare he gave her before continuing, not adhering the warning. “I’m serious! Ya gotta use the handcuffs, the ropes, the ice, the foreplay, the whips… I would imagine fucking your tailor-made girlfriend who obeys your every command would be absolutely tedious.”
His hands were around her throat and squeezing within seconds after she had finished her sentence, making her stand up with him and letting him push her back into the wall with a thump, a constricted grunt of slight pain resounding from her closed throat. Her doe eyes looked up and met his narrowed ones with only a few inches between them.
“I don’t think you want to know just how interesting I can really be with my toys, doll-face, so I suggest you shut up about my sex life unless you want me to prove to you that you’re wrong.” His threat was laced with a presence of sexual tension. The sensation of his fingers around her neck and his breath fanning her face with seducing threats that came with his body mere centimetres away from hers almost made her knees buckle from underneath her and she had to stop herself from releasing an audible moan of desperation and anticipation from thinking about what he could do to her right then and there.
The two of them must’ve stayed in that position - staring each other down with nothing but their laboured breaths filling the room - for a solid five or so minutes until the door to the room slammed wide open and a bustling bleached-blonde skipped in, the sound of her heels tapping against the floorboards jolting the woman held against the wall back to life and she tried pulling away, but to no avail. Keeping his grip tight, but not tight enough to cut off the airways, he continued to gaze intently into her eyes. His glazed over with a fire burning deep inside of him that he didn’t conjure with his girlfriend any longer.
“Puddin’?…” A mixed tone of anger, disappointment, and rejection was detectable from Harley as the nickname for her lover spewed from her red lips. Walking into a secluded room to see the man she loved with a woman she had already been jealous of, in a position she thought was only reserved for her in the bedroom, brung out the worst in her as she felt the rage bubbling up inside at an increasing rate. Ready to pounce at the bitch trying to steal her boyfriend, she was stopped by the voice she had fallen in love with.
“Harley, sweetums, I want you to go home and be ready for me for when I get back, okay? Daddy’s going to get a new tattoo and I was just in the middle of telling our artist here exactly what I want. Detail… by… detail.” The reply had a sickly sweet underlay to it which, to any typical person, could’ve been easily picked up on and scoffed at - something she almost did - but to Harley, blinded by her emotions towards the criminal, it was just another demand for sex which she gladly complied to every time. She looked past everything she had just witnessed only minutes ago after hearing the pet name she had been called, convincing herself that the man dangerously close to a woman that wasn’t her, still loved her in his own way.
“Alright, Daddy, but don’t be long. I’ll be waiting…” An exaggerated grin, accompanied by a giggle, was sent in his direction before she turned on her heel and walked through the doorway, shutting the door with a click after her.
Shoving his body off of her, the trained tattoo artist dramatically gagged and stuck her forefinger inside her mouth. She was amazed yet disgusted at the same time at how submissive a woman could be towards a man. Never in her life did she witness such obedience without question to someone who was clearly not right in the noggin’.
“You’ve messed her up, J. Like real bad. She worships the ground you walk on. She’s just your fucking sex toy and she doesn’t even realise it, thinking you "love” her and shit.“ A rant had been building up inside of her until finally it started to be projected. "I kinda feel sorry for the girl. She was a psychologist, a good one at that, with a Ph.D, and you’ve somehow manipulated her and worked your way into her mind so that now she’d do anything for you. She’d die for you.”
“And that’s how I like it. People in this city respect me, all becau-.”
“That’s not respect! That’s psychological torture and I’ll be damned if I end up like another one of your 'dolls’ you can have fun with one minute and couldn’t give a fuck about the next.” She didn’t notice but she had begun to yell with pent up anger flowing out of her, she didn’t even register entirely what she was saying.
She had wanted to be by his side for as long as she could remember after meeting him, as his companion, his partner, his lover. She had thought she could replace Harley and become his new Queen of Crime. However, after seeing what previous Dr. Harleen Quinzel had now become under his hands, she begun to have second thoughts.
“You think I would treat you just like some random woman I picked up from the club? Oh, no, no, no. You… are one of a kind. You’re unique… You’re mine.” As he spoke these enticing words in a sultry manner, he came closer. Each step forward he made, resulted in one step backward for her until the back of her knees hit the chair and she fell back into it, now laying down. She watched as he placed his hands either side of her on the arm rests and wedged his knees beside her, crawling up her body until he was hovering above.
Her breath became uneven as she tried to stop herself from giving in and looking down at his crimson lips that looked o so kissable. “I want you. And the things I want, I get, no matter how. I know you’ve been wanting me since the first time you saw me. I know you touch yourself at night at the thought of me doing dirty things to you. When you’re alone in bed and your mind keeps drifting off to think about what I could do with your body. And I know how badly you want to feel full. You want me inside you. Isn’t that right?”
The way he spoke her thoughts aloud without caring who heard him made her cheeks turn a shade of red so deep she didn’t even think it possible and her core slick with want and need. The rough nature of his gravelly voice mixed with the undertones of lust and greed for her, visibly shook her as goosebumps appeared on her skin. Hearing all of these sinful words whispered from the mouth she had tried to resist earlier made her reach up to pull his head down as she just couldn’t take the teasing any longer, connecting their lips together in a heated, passionate kiss.
A growl was released from the depths of his throat as he shifted his body weight onto his elbows either side of her head and pressed his lower half into her, allowing her to feel what she did to him without touching him once. Hands moving to grip his shirt around his torso, she opened her mouth to grant him access to explore with his tongue before moaning gently.
Amongst all the fiery desire and passion the both of them were sharing, she had managed to remember a specific moment that had happened during his visit to the studio earlier before which made her pull away from his hungry lips to add her sarcastic rebuttal, as she always did,
Julie: "Once we decided [Stefan's death], it felt so pure and right and we knew it was the road to go."
Stefan died in the most abhorrent, unnecessary, and cruel way possible. He died so Damon could life out his human fairytale with Elena. In JP’s/KW's twisted minds they saw this is some sort of poetic redemption in making Damon turn in 1864 … but STEFAN needs to die for a selfish decision he made when he was just seventeen? This one choice needs to follow him around his entire life regardless of much he’s changed, cared, or worked to redeem himself just ‘cause Damon must never be held responsible for anything?
This is not story-telling. This is complete character assassination. For years Stefan was slowly sliding to the wayside in favor of Damon, giving him all the story and essentially becoming a prop to his arcs/relationship with Elena. Stefan was losing agency more and more. By S8, it was all over for him. They went OUT OF THEIR WAY to portray Ripper Stefan as the “bad brother”, punishing him for killing Enzo while Damon got forgiven right away for killing Tyler and even had the fucking audacity to make Damon forgive HIM when’s Stefan’s been cleaning up after his brother’s messes basically his entire existence. In 8x16, he was the death. So shocked.
Damon should’vebeen the death, not Stefan. Stefan might’ve forced him to turn, but everything after that was all Damon. DAMON. MADE.HIS.OWN. CHOICES. He made the choice to be manipulative, evil, and torture others. He spent so much longer not giving a damn about anyone except himself while Stefan was battling bloodlust and trying to be good. Damon resented Stefan and blamed Katherine for who he was, never taking accountability for anything and when he finally did everyone else wouldn’t let him. Damon should’ve sacrificed himself for good like he tried to because then there would be accountability and his redemption story might’ve actually meant something. Instead they nerfed Stefan to appease the Damon fangirls/DE shippers and that’s just so dirty.
This is exactly what happens when a character gets too popular. The writers cater too much to the fans, disrupting focus on other characters and it RUINS THE SHOW. This has happened so many times before on other TV shows and TVD w/ Damon is by far the worst I’ve seen.
Our baby Stefan deserved so much better than sacrificing himself for a fuck-up of a brother who quite literally gave him an “eternity of misery”. KW/JP did a complete disservice to him and this show and I’ll never forgive them for it.
Let us all remember Stefan Salvatore. The selfless, noble, compassionate, self-flagellating hero who had such little value of himself he died thinking he didn’t deserve happiness and that Damon was the better man. He was precious and beautiful and this world these writers didn’t deserve him.
Bucky never spoke of Y/N in front of the others, but Steve knew better. There was nothing Bucky’s mind loved more than to torment him with memories of Y/N. Eventually the rest of the team learned not to ask Bucky about Y/N. Yet Steve knew she was at the forefront of Bucky’s mind.
It was hard for everyone to witness Bucky backtracking, not knowing how to help.
Summary: Cas has problems adjusting to being human.
A/N: Ok, so this is some random ass fic that came about
because of @bkwrm523 and a cute
ass little thing. Cas freaking out over random shit, it’s just too cute. Not sure how cute this came out, but I’m hoping you like it!!
Summary: Mick knew well how to make himself look pleasing. Especially to you. Eventually, his latest outfit brought out too many dark fantasies in your head. Dark fantasies you happened to share with his voicemail when you were drunk. Or was it his voicemail?
Pairing: Mick Davies x Reader
Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, slight masturbation, drunk!reader, talking dirty things on the phone
A/N:@sinceriouslyamellpadalecki just started texting me this plot idea last night and gave me no other chance than to write it… also combined it with a request that was basically just Mick screwing the reader over the table haha. Enjoy.
When Mick told you and the Winchesters he had another hunt for you, you didn’t expect him to want to tag along. You knew very well that he wasn’t as experienced as a hunter and therefore weren’t sure if it was a good idea to bring him. But he insisted.
“I don’t like this,” Dean grumbled as the three of you headed out to Baby since Mick was still packing a few things.
“Give him a chance at least. They could really help us,” Sam said, earning an eye roll from Dean.
“Y/N, say something about this!” Dean tried to pull you into this discussion.
“You know very well that I’m neutral on this topic,” you sighed a little and sat down in the backseat.
“Will you ever finally pick a side? You can’t be like that forever,” he groaned and sat down in the car as well.
I lit a cigarette thinking I was strong enough to smoke it, but I instantly remembered I promised you I wouldn’t smoke anymore. I promised you I would stop my bad habits. So I watched it burn. Oh, how it burned so fucking slowly. It was torture. Waiting for the damn thing to go out already. Waiting for the wind to blow out the fire I had started. The fire that you started in my heart. The spark you lit the first time you told me you loved me. You were my first cigarrette. You were my first drug, and damn I’m hooked on you. You are the drug that I will never quit…
I got tired of waiting for the wind to come. I got tired of watching the fire burn the paper. The paper burning the tobacco into smoke. The smoke turning my lungs to ash. I got tired of cigarrettes the day I told you I would stop smoking. I got tired of cigarettes the day you told me you were leaving because of my bad habits. I got tired…
The wind blew some of the ash onto the sidewalk and I continued waiting.
I pressed the fire against my neck to stop the flame. To stop the cancer stick from burning any longer. And despite the small red mark on my neck, the fire had finally stopped burning.
But the fire in my heart? That hasn’t stopped. The wind being your lips, never blew it out and I don’t think they ever will. It continues to grow like a wildfire spreading through the woods on a dark night, never even knowing it had started until the trees were burning down. The spark you lit the first time you told me you loved me.. You were my first cigarrette. You started this fire that continues to grow inside me.
You are the drug that I will never quit…
saywecanella (I thought I could stop the fire burning inside me, but I could never stop loving you…)
Characters: Demon!Reader, Crowley, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Claire Novak
Parings: Demon!Reader x Crowley (Daughter and Father), eventually Demon!Reader x Dean/Sam Winchester, not sure yet.
Summary: You are one of Crowley’s crossroad demons, but not any demon, no.. you are his daughter. A so called Cambion. Half demon, half human. When a girl named Claire summoned you, everything changed.
I wrote this the other night, ‘cuz I couldn’t sleep for hours. Thought I separately could start a new series. Hope you enjoy. :)
Hell was a dark and cheerless place, but you loved it. It matched your cold, rotten soul perfectly. You walked down the endless seeming hallway, running your fingers along the fragile, old walls. The smell of burnt flesh ran through your nose. Passing cell after cell, filled with tortured people you turned to the right at the very end and stopped at a big door. You opened it, closing it behind you, with a creaking sound coming from it. The slam of the door let the chains on the wall rustling.
The room was filled with red burning candles, they gave you a warm feeling. The feeling of being home. It was your own little kingdom. There was a bed, a closet and a dressing table. Your hellhound, Diwo, laying in the corner taking a nap. He was a present from your dad on your 12th birthday, to always keep an eye on you. Diwo was kinda the only friend you had down here. The rest of the other demons were just here to keep you entertained, trying to act like human beings.. trying to act like friends to you. I mean, you were a Cambion. Half human, half demon. So you definitely had human needs.. and a soul, even though it was pitch black.
Y/A (your age) years back.. your dad had something going on with this human woman. He got her pregnant and left. Because he wanted to „build“ a super strong weapon. You. Exactly 9 months later, he had a weird feeling. The now king of hell knew.. a special child was born. His child. Mom unfortunately was a Hunter, recognized your black eyes, knew what kind of monster you were and wanted to kill you. Your dad showed up and rescued you. Rest is history. He raised and trained you. Gave you, almost, everything you ever needed. And here you are. Settling yourself down on your bed, being bored to death. Listening to the screams coming from outside, you closed your eyes.. You almost fell asleep, when you suddenly heard a noise coming from outside the door.
„Enter“, you said annoyed.
The heavy door opened and a deep British voice came to your ears, „Hello, darling. Seems like you had a rough day“
„Oh, hey Dad.. No, it wasn’t rough at all, I‘m just so bored most of the time, I hate being a stupid crossroad demon. Why can‘t I just go out and kill people myself instead of sending Diwo their way. I can help earning souls for you by myself“ you folded your arms, making a pout.
„Well, princess.. I don‘t think you are aware of how powerful you are, you need a little tiny bit more time to face this world full of hunter. I don‘t want my precious child to get hurt. See your crossroad-duty as a training.“ he replied, settling himself down next to you.
„I can take care of myself. I‘m Y/A now, not a child anymore, dad. And to be honest, I never really was.“
„I know, I know..“ he continued, as he patted your shoulder. „just give it a few more weeks and you‘ll be ready to face this world, promise.. but you have to take Diwo with you. At least the first few times, to keep an eye on you. I started as a crossroad demon too, and look at me now“ he complacently smiled down at you. __________________________________________________
About 2 weeks later, you were strolling around through the halls of hell again. Kicking a few little rocks around.
„Damn it, this is more torture than actually being a prisoner here.“ you said, rolling your eyes in boredom. „I‘m way too old for this shit.“ you tought to yourself, making your way to the exit.
„Where do you think you‘re going, young lady?“ your father said, suddenly appearing next to you, scaring the shit out of you.
„Let me go, I‘m bored and since you kinda stole my teleportation skills for most of my travels, I have to take the normal way. This fucking door.“ you angrily replied, grabbing the door knob.
„I actually have a job for you to do. Well, it‘s a crossroad deal again.“ You stopped, not looking at your father“ A young girl is on her way to summon one of my demons, I thought you might need something to do.“ he insisted strictly.
You popped up on a little crossroad, somewhere in Kansas. It was dark out and you saw a young blonde girl standing in front of you. She didn’t look scared at all.
„Claire Novak.“ you said surprised. „The little girl whos dad got vessled by an angel of the lord.. What can I do for you?“ winking your eyes, let them turning pitch black.
„How do you know my name?“ she started to yell at you.
„Well, lovely.. I‘m a Demon.. remember? Plus your… ‚dad‘ is pretty well-known down there, you know..“ you replied. „but back to the important things. What do yo….“
„Shut your mouth and listen to me, demon!“ she snapped, pulling out a gun to give her self a bit of safety.
„How sweet.“ you chuckled, moving your right hand fast to the side, throwing her gun at the ground.
„Bring me my mom back! I can‘t stand being alone much longer, Take my fucking soul and just bring her back.“ she stuttered, almost starting to cry.
You grinned „you know the deal, right? We kiss to make the agreement count, then 10 years from now on, my hellhound is gonna come for your ass.“
Claire waited a few seconds, then nodded. She stepped forward to you. Your lips came closer, when suddenly you heard two men yelling and storming towards you, the taller one of them tackling down Claire. „No! Don‘t do that!“
She writhed in the arms of the man, screaming at him. „SAM! Let me go! This is my choice“ „Sam? Sam and Dean Winchester?“ your eyes opened wide.
„Yeah, why would you care you piece of hell-shit?“ the younger brother yelled at you snottily.
„Wow, easy cowboy, just doing my job“ you laughed.
„What kind of a crossroad demon are you? Your eyes are black and not red.“ he looked at you angry.
„Let‘s say it‘s just my part time job“, you winked at him, letting your black eyes turning to your normal Y/E/C again. „Dad‘s other demons are not of any good use.“
„Dad? You mean Crowley?“ Dean frowned at you full of disgust, when suddenly Claire got out of Sams grip, and ran towards you to give you a kiss.
„No! Claire god damn it!“ the younger brother shouted at you, pulling out the colt. „Nullify the deal! Now!“
„Sorry, handsome.. can‘t do that.“ you said with a smug on your face, snapping your fingers you disappeared from them.
„FUCK!“ Dean fell on his knees, hitting the ground with his fist. „I‘m gonna kill that bitch!“ he shouted.
You found yourself in your room again, when you suddenly, heard someone clapping behind you. Turning around you found your father standing there.
„Congrats Y/N.. You just got the soul of the little wannabe Winchester girl.“ he told you proudly, with a big smile on his face.
Hey! Your blog is so fun to read! The Mercs reaction to waking up captured in an enemy base?
figues its because of his medical advancements and prepares himself mentally for torture of the worst kind.
has been waiting his whole damned life for a moment like this and is ready to be a pain in the ass soldier until he dies. even comes up with a service ID and rank to repeat over and over.
wonders how he got there honestly. hes not easy to move. second begins to plan on how to get out. knows they will underestimate his intelligence so begins to plan around that…
Begins to look for an escape, but also is patient and waits for a moment to get loose and run. if hes doesnt know where hes going then hes just going to get caught again.
just waits. it was all his plan after all. he may be tied up but hes going to be the one doing the interrogating.
Yells and screams and bitches until they just get rid of him. hes useless and annoying. they though the other team might try and get him back but they seemed pretty confident that Scout would be back soon…. guess they were happy to have a vacation.
slips the cuffs (hes double jointed) and crawls through the air vents after taking not of everything they have going on in their base. rubs it in that he was better at being a spy than spy
yells and curses and struggles until he over powers the captors and rips their heads off with his bear hands. he figures its about his blue prints, and he will die before he gives those up. basically tornadoes through the base and rigs it to explode as he leaves.
just zones out and retreats into their Pyroland Mind Palace and is a zombie immune to what is going on around them until there is an opening for them to escape.
to be tied down eagle-spread to a bed and demolished with light, fluffy tickles. Finger tips gently dragging alllllll across my body, cute little scritches under my wiggling toes, one single finger swirling eeever so slowly in problematic spots, tongue flicks and kisses planted on tender spots, eating up the tickle talk that’s being cooed down at me, feathers teasing up and down, up and down…
so I can just lay there, locking eyes and sharing smiles with my precious Ler, lightly and consistently giggling, feeling present and at peace with myself and the world, trying not to be a shivering squirmy mess, and loving every moment.
Maybe returning to the countryside was the best option. It’s my first evening back in the city and I’m already faced with so much, so how am I suppose to build up from here?
As I exit from the alleyway, leaving Jinyoung behind me, I put back on my hood. I feel my pockets for the extra cash I saved, hoping it’d be enough to last me for the week until I can find a part-time job and rent a little place.