serpent juliet


sᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ♔

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March 27th, 2024

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Gender: Female
Age: 31
Sign: Pisces
Country: United States

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July 12, 2018

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01/09/2023 12:27 PM 

Vigilante Sh*t.

serpent juliet ♔ betty cooper

Vigilante Sh*t.
Draw the cat eye, sharp enough to kill a man You did some bad things, but I'm the worst of them Sometimes I wonder which one will be your last lie They say looks can kill and I might try I don't dress for women I don't dress for men Lately I've been dressing for revenge

I don't start it but I can tell you how it ends Don't get sad, get even So on the weekends I don't dress for friends Lately I've been dressing for revenge
"She don't start it, but she can tell you how it ends."
The black velvet of yet another spooky night had spread over the little town of Riverdale, covering everything in a thick blanket of darkness. The typically lovely image of a bright sky had become scary and pitch black, serving as an ominous portent and a bloodcurdling backdrop. It went well with her jet leather clothing, raven hair, and the dreadful demeanor emanating from her heels rubbing against the muddy and damp asphalt. "Stars, conceal your flames; let the light not see my dark and profound inclinations..." Every click of her heel punctuated each phrase her thoughts shouted on a loop to the depths of her subconscious, her green eyes blazing menacingly through the darkness like those of a wolf on the prowl for its victim.

Nothing in her connected her to the stereotype of the perfect younger daughter of the Cooper family; in other words, if someone were to run into her on the street, they would not know her. Betty Cooper had passed away and been sent to a peaceful place where she could smell lavender and chamomile while wearing collared sweaters and preppy knitted cardigans. The length of time for which it would continue was not yet determined, but for the time being, the girl with the golden heart whom everyone had abandoned was put to sleep under the naivety of false ambition and futile ambitions. Her other self, Ago, was there to clean up the mess that her character, with all of its tiresome heavenly range, constantly managed to generate.

Therefore, Betty pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail and started her investigation all by herself this time. And it was her obstinacy that led her to be here tonight, on the other side of the tracks, in a place where nobody actually dared to step foot, least of all decent ladies like she was supposed to be. She proceeded to don her raven armor and walk seductively on her heels as she made her way to the most notorious club in Riverdale, known as the Southside Serpents hang out.

Betty slowed down for a second so that she could have a better look at the location from a distance. She had a preconceived notion that it would be nasty and ghetto-like based on all of the tales that she had heard floating about. She was terrified, but not because of herself or of what she was about to do; instead, she was terrified of him and the version of him that she may encounter. It's possible that it was already too late and that he did, in fact, belong in a place like this. Whatever it was, Betty needed to know it. Betty wanted to know with her own eyes whatever it was, and she needed to save him if there was even a sliver of a possibility that he would want to be rescued.

She unzipped her black leather jacket with a steely resolve, exposing her lacy black push-up bralette and her ample cleavage as bait for whatever lowlife may be helpful to her. She did this in order to attract the attention of the filth. A pair of black leather thigh-high boots, provocative underwear and a mini skirt that the girl had altered even further to barely reach under the curve of her ass gave the girl the confidence that she had the winning combination for a free pass into the bikers' private territory. Betty was confident that she would not be rejected by them. She believed bikers would appreciate a pair of sexy boots more than their elegant black pumps. She had on a black wig that gave her an air of mystique and made her appear to be the ideal temptress. She maintained the seductive allure of her appearance by sexily wiping the pad of her ring finger across the corner of her lips to keep the color of her Seduce Scarlet lipstick, and then she licked the excess lipstick off her finger while maintaining a wicked grin. Betty began her journey toward the door with a rediscovered sense of self-assurance and the demeanor of the confident women of the city.

As she strolled past a row of vintage Harley and BMW motorcycles, she was greeted with loud whistles and filthy talk from some repulsive-appearing men who were lounging on their bikes, smoking and drinking beers. However, she paid them no attention and instead directed her seductive eyes to the buffed bouncer stationed at the small bar's entrance. Betty was able to sneak into the pub without being questioned, and the man, who was roughly the same age as her father, gave her an appreciative gesture towards her ass. He was formidable, but with a sexy grin and a little additional sway of her hips, she could go past him.

The inside seemed to be just how she had pictured it: thick with smoke, reeking strongly of alcoholic beverages, and teeming with macho men. She was there on a mission, not to pass judgment or write an article, so she resisted the urge to throw up and her snarky comments. Instead, she let her prying eyes take a quick scan of the room before they landed on the person she was interested in: the man who was responsible for recruiting new blood in the decades-long tradition of biker members.

His height was average, but he had abnormally broad shoulders that he had achieved through steroids and other illegal substances. His black hair was in frizzy curls all the way down the middle of his back, and it was gathered in a loose ponytail at the back of his neck. He was in his forties. His height was average, but he had abnormal board shoulders. He was covered in tattoos, with his awful black muscle shirt displaying all of the abstract patterns, and the sharp angles of his jawline and his bony nose gave off an air of menace. Betty didn't even flinch; instead, she removed her jacket while staring at him with malice, slung it over her shoulder, and then catwalked over to where he was seated at the bar.

Betty was leaning on the barstool next to him with a chilly but devious smirk as she watched him ogle her killer legs while she clicked her heels. This left him with no choice but to look shamelessly.

"Are you going to buy me a drink, or are you just going to sit there and stare?" "Are you going to buy me a drink?" She challenged him by raising an eyebrow, and she saw him smirk in a repulsive way that indicated that his intentions were nothing but obedient while giving her a once-over with his pitch-black eyes lingering again on her legs as he licked his lips. This showed that his intentions could have been more reliable. Betty was once again overcome with the want to throw up.
Don't get sad, get even,

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