Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"I feel like a hero, and you are my heroine. Do you know that your love is the sweetest sin?..." ♫ Her/Heroine by Bloody Valentine. (Boys Like Girls.) A/N: Charry Anthem.
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I woke up to the sun in my eyes.
A condom wrapper stuck to my face.
My underwear around my neck.
My boyfriend handcuffed to my ankle.
A tattoo on my finger.
And chocolate raspberry cake stuck in my hair.
That was the only reason I knew that the party last night was one to remember. I just wished I did.
✧ *:･ﾟ✧* 11:00 PM.
"Silver, you sly son of a bitch. That is a smokin' babe!"
"Oh, isn't she fine?" Harlow, drunk, high and handsy introduced me to the fifth biker I'd met in one night; Pepper. A man with more tattoos than real teeth and more audacity and confidence than a ten year old girl in a princess dress. He reminded me of Harlow in that regard 'cause if he was anything, it was sassy and loud, "Come on, baby, give us a spin!"
"Okay, okay!" I laughed, standing up straight and turning 'round in a circle so him and his supposed 'biker friends' (that he'd spoken to once at an auto shop when he first moved to IL) could holler and whistle like rabid dogs.
I jolted when Harlow stopped me halfway to slap my ass so hard, he lifted up my miniskirt.
"That fuckin' ass, eh Pep?" He dug his fingers into my flesh and then yanked me right back to his side, laughing while he planted a quick, hard kiss to the ticklish skin just under my jaw, "She's my good girl, aren't you, Cher?"
"Don't let him fool you!" I shouted over the Ramones' song playing around us and looked back at his friends while I patted his chest.
"If anyone here is supposed to be on good behavior, it's him. If he tells you any different, he's a lying little cunt... who's just asking to get in trouble." My eyes fell back on Harlow.
Despite his raunchy attitude, I liked that he was showing me off to people. It made me feel so good when he bragged about how hot I was or how happy I made him. It made me proud.
"Don't listen to a word she says," He put a hand over my mouth and manhandled me to stand in between his legs; my back pressed to his chest, "she's a liar and a filthy whore. She pays me for sex. She just can't get enough, what can I say? I'm a lucky motherfucker."
I snickered and shrugged my shoulder when he left tooth-scraping nips with his mouth against my skin, tickling me relentlessly. He bit all the way up to my ear but he stopped when there was a commotion to our left and in the corner of the garage, through a wave of people, appeared Niko with the keg he'd successfully tapped.
