Warnings: slight angst to smut and a little fluff, fingering, oral sex(fem receiving), dry humping(sort of), Sylus is shot, reader is not mc
Your head snapped to your phone as it started vibrating violently.
“Hello?” Pressing ‘accept,’ you brought the device to your ear.
“Y/N…” A familiar drawl on the other side caused you to sigh.
You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off.”
“C’mon, N/n. I promise this is the last time,” he said, but you could hear the smirk in his voice.
“That’s what you said the last three times. And I’m busy,” you stated but grabbed your keys anyway.
“I need you.” His breath was ragged, and you clenched your fists—and hung up.
Before you knew it, you were locking your door and making your way to the basement of your apartment building. Climbing atop your green-accented motorcycle, you twisted the key, put on your helmet, and were on your way.
You kicked down the door to the warehouse, eyes searching as you stormed through. The location tracker showed you were only a few meters from the target.
His white hair came into view, and you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. Kneeling down at his side, you started patting different parts of his body.
“Ah,” he winced lightly as your hand brushed against his abdomen.
You pressed your left palm flat against the bullet wound as your other hand dug around in your purse, desperately searching for the first-aid kit you carried with you.
This was a common occurrence between the two of you—something that was pretty much a given for the best friend and confidant of the leader of Onychinus. It had grown exponentially recently. Ever since he met her.
Cute, kind, and brave. The holy trinity. MC. But you could only describe her as a naïve, immature fool who had only ever caused you more trouble since entering your best friend’s life—and, by extension, yours.
MC was the last person you would think to be involved with the most dangerous gang in the N109 area. The two of you were vastly different. Seriously, it was uncanny. You, with your bare, bloody knuckles, short temper, and even shorter dresses. And her, with her hunter academy training, top-of-the-line education, and proper uniform.
You and MC were undoubtedly complete and total opposites. The only thing you had in common was, well, Sylus. As you bandaged him up, you started looking around for her, expecting to find her sprawled out on the floor clinging to her weapon dearly—or already passed out.
Whatever the case, you’d end up fixing her up as always. Because that was what you did, wasn’t it? You were strong, capable, and reliable. These were the reasons Sylus held you in such high regard.
Unlike her, you didn’t effortlessly win hearts simply by existing. Your beauty was a weapon in itself—sharp features and blood-red lips to go with his leather jackets and most likely bruised self.
“Hello? You there? Y/N. Ow.” His sudden hiss of pain brought you back to reality.
“Hurry up and move.” You stood up, extending a hand and pulling him up with little to no effort. You started walking in the other direction. Sylus’ warm hand enveloped your wrist, and you turned around—only to come face to face with him, noses mere inches apart.
“At least look at me.” His tone was cool, but his pleading eyes betrayed his true feelings.
“Where is she?” you said, your lips pursed as they often were in matters regarding the hunter.
“Where’s who?” he asked, his hand sliding down just a bit to hold your equally calloused one.
“Don’t,” you warned.
“…She had to go back home,” he said, sounding defeated.
“In the middle of a fight?” You scoffed.
“Yeah.” He gritted his teeth.
“So let me get this straight. You ignored all my warnings and proceeded to go after someone who then left you alone to fight at the very least three S-rank wanderers all on your own.” You raised your eyebrows, traces of wrath bubbling beneath your calm demeanor.
“Y/N, I know I fucked up. I should have listened to you. Can you skip the lecture, just this once?” he implored.
“Fine,” you relented.
You searched his face for any signs of distress, and upon finding no significant amount of it, decided he must’ve been feeling better. You brought a hand up to trace the outline of the freshly acquired wound on his cheekbone.
“I’m okay,” he assured you.
“I know.” You brought your hand back to rest at your side once more.
“You aren’t mad?” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.
You shook your head, the sound of something rustling nearby enough for the two of you to rush out of the warehouse. Once you made it back to his house, you made your way to the bedroom.
He took a shower, and you resorted to finding the clothes you’d left behind the last time you were here, which was just last week. Right before Miss Hunter had barreled her way into your lives once more, leaving destruction in her wake—which you would end up having to fix.
You lay on the bed with your eyes closed, trying to fall asleep, and felt something warm slip in behind you. His arms snaked around your waist, and he pressed a kiss to your neck.
“Go away,” you grumbled.
“Can’t do that, darling.” He nuzzled into your bare shoulder.
“Really? Because, if I recall correctly, you had no qualms doing exactly that when she was the one asking.” You shifted and turned around to face him.
“I’m sorry.” He kissed the tip of your nose.
“Sorry isn’t gonna cut it this time.” You bit the inside of your cheek, resolve slowly cracking as his hands traveled to your breasts, kneading them just how he knew you liked it.
“I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said, lingering water droplets falling from the ends of his hair onto the dark sheets.
“You won’t talk to her,” you stated.
“I won’t,” he mumbled against your skin. “I love you.”
“I love you, Y/N. More than anything.” His eyes bore into your soul as if seeing right through you. You gulped.
Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”
“I love you too,” you whispered.
That was all the confirmation he needed to smash his lips into yours, as he’d done several times before. But for some reason, this time felt different. And so you kissed him back—just as passionately.
His hands made their way to your hips, one slipping beneath the waistband of your pajamas. You called out his name lightly as the pads of his fingers made contact with your sensitive clit. You hummed.
He slid your bottoms off, repositioning himself at the base of the bed and pulling your closer by your thighs. You moaned as he licked a stripe up your cunt.
He had always made you feel like you were the only thing that mattered to him. Perhaps that was why even as he slipped two fingers in without so much as a warning, your couldn’t find it in yourself to berate him any further.
He sucked on your clit in a way that—paired with the pace he had set with his fingers—had you seeing stars. You were getting impossibly close, the familiar coil tightening in your stomach.
You came with a cry of his name—letting out a small moan at the sight of him licking his fingers clean. He came up to kiss you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. God, the things he did to you.
While making out once again, you felt something hard poking you, which prompted you to roll your hips against his.
“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?” he groaned.
“Pretty sure I do the exact opposite of that most days. Need I remind you there is still a gaping hole in you?” you chided.
“I have to apologise somehow.” He said, as if he had no choice.
If you didn’t know him as well as you did, you would’ve have been convinced his hands were tied. The only one who could free him of the burden that was your eternal debt being you yourself.
You flipped the two of you—now being on top of him—and gyrated your hips with an ample amount of pressure. You were careful so as not to hurt him, or risk the bandages getting loose.
“Come on, you can do better than that.” He grinned, though a particularly hard thrust from you shut him up effectively.
You increased the pace, his clothed dick rubbed deliciously against your puffy clit. You moaned as he grabbed your hips and further ground your hips into his.
“Sylus!” Your head fell on his shoulder, breath coming out in ragged puffs.
“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He bucked his hips up, successfully leading you and himself to orgasm.
Your soaked pussy clenched around nothing and you gushed all over his branded sweatpants. He followed a second later—painting the insides of his pants white.
You both panted but stayed like that for a while—your head in the crook of his neck, and his right hand tangled in your hair. Eventually, you went to get a wet washcloth, helping him clean up.
You laid back down as he put on a fresh pair of pants and tossed his stained ones in the hamper. He followed after you, pulling you into a hug.
“I love you,” he whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.
“Mhm.” You flicked his nose.
“Say it back!” He gasped dramatically.
“Fine, you big baby.” You cracked a smile. “I love you.”
The blanket draped over you both offered much-appreciated warmth, but even that couldn’t compare to the sheer amount of body heat Sylus was radiating.
Even if sometimes he acted like a complete idiot, he was your idiot. And nothing would ever change that.
With that thought, you drifted off in his arms, lips lightly stretched in a contented smile.
A/n: Had the idea yesterday. Pulled an all-nighter and wrote this in one go,, I need to go to sleep now.
My first foray in posting some original fiction on this site, let me know what you think! Under the cut because it's pretty long
“This is the last fucking straw, Ro!” Cherry shrieked. She had a fist full of hair and half a mind to rip the head it was sprouting from right off. Thrown from her favorite bar! Tossed out on her ass like some two-bit, tanked hussy! All because of the dead weight she had to haul wailing and cursing from the passenger’s side of the car.
Romeo’s Red Wings scuffed the gravel drive leading to their shared home, sending little bits of grit flying in all directions. Though she pried at the hand locked to her scalp, Cherry would not loosen her grip for anything. She might have drawn blood.
“Christ- you psycho bitch!” Romeo howled, digging her heels in. The nails dug in a centimeter deeper.
“Seven years! Seven years I’ve been going to The Alter Boy without a strike against me!” Cherry jerked her arm savagely, dragging Romeo another foot across the ground. “I paid my dues, kept my nose clean. They were doin’ me a fucking favor, Ro- fags don’t gotta let us root around their joints you wispy little brat!”
“Oh, big fucking deal!” Her multitool might have been a saving grace- a quick jab to the hand to force Cherry to let go. That would all depend on if Romeo could reach her back pocket. Both hands were needed just to keep Cherry from outright scalping her. “Just because they don’t give a shit about you hunting for ass don’t mean you gotta get on your knees and suck their dicks-”
She was momentarily silenced by a knee to her solar plexus. Romeo gasped for air as she was lugged up the porch steps by her hair. No matter which direction she twisted or jerked, there was no breaking free.
There was the jingle of metal as Cherry unclipped her keys. She opened the door with a thick soled boot, tossing Romeo in ahead of her on the entryway’s floor like she weighed nothing. “You’d know a lot about cocksucking, wouldn’t you, slut?” The door slammed shut behind them. Cherry made certain to slide the deadbolt in place.
Romeo was already scrambling to get back on her feet. Before she could make it from her knees, Cherry planted her boot in the center of her chest, knocking Romeo flat on her back. “You just can’t keep that fat mouth of yours shut, is that it?” she growled, watching as Romeo wiggled helplessly beneath her. There was no hope for the worm- Cherry bore down her full weight, and no one would call her a petite woman. It was a wonder she didn’t crack a rib.
She watched in perfect hatred as Romeo exhausted herself. Sweat beaded on her face- a jet black inexpertly cut fringe stuck to her tanned forehead. Her breaths grew labored, strenuous, eyes alight with rage that was slowly giving way to terror. A curious, hateful kind of glee iced Cherry over. Wordless questions formed so perfectly on Romeo’s wreck of a face: How long would she be kept Romeo pinned? What would she do to her after?
After another few minutes of fruitless bucking, Romeo finally collapsed against the scuffed hardwood. She drank oxygen like a drowning man- Cherry dug her heel deeper into her sternum. Fear lit up Romeo’s cold brown eyes like the Vegas strip. Her stupid face said it all- she was utterly at Cherry’s mercy.
Her voice came out as a guttural whisper. “I have half a mind to leave you and your shit on the corner for garbage day. I should take that training wheel cock between your legs and shove it so far down your throat you shit silicone. I should strip you naked, shave you bald, chain you to the bike rack outside the women’s crisis center and fly your leather from the tallest flag pole I can find- how’s that sound, shitstain?”
A shiver of delight raced up Cherry’s spine as she looked over her future victim. Romeo was practically shaking from terror, but God forbid she be outdone. Contempt overrode all sensibility in Cherry’s mind as she watched that bullheaded little girl open her trap to spew more bullshit.
“Look- I’m sorry, alright?” she said lamely. As far as groveling went, this was a piss poor attempt. Cherry bounced her leg. A sharp wheeze was forced out of Romeo.
“You don’t know what sorry is,” said Cherry, straightening up to remove her belt. The silver buckle gave a sinister clang. It was a wicked looking thing- a hand-cut, open filigree center framed by a hand-twisted sterling rope edge. A naked woman rode a bucking bronco in its center. Cherry was quite proud of this little piece- just the sound of it made the weaker willed wet themselves. All for show- she wouldn’t dream of using it on anyone decent. It was a damn shame there wasn’t anyone that fit the bill in the room then.
Cherry took great care as she wound the strip of leather around her fist. The woman beneath hardly blinked, watching with mounting horror as her brain put the pieces together. Her protestation was as lackluster as her candy ass apology-
“No. No, no, no- fuck no, Cher, I’m fuckin’ sorry, honest- you don’t gotta-”
The rest of it fell on deaf ears. The belt Romeo sported was much less elaborate. It was hung around Cherry’s shoulders temporarily for safekeeping. Cherry raised her foot just long enough to wedge its toe behind Romeo’s back, flipping her over onto her stomach with one good shove. With a little maneuvering, Cherry had replaced the boot in the small of Romeo’s back and used her free hand to pull down her jeans and boxers below her ass down to her knees. A leather harness slid over her hips and plunged between her thighs, her cock trapped beneath her stomach. Pausing her preparations, Cherry took a brief moment to admire the view. Beneath her oversized Wrangler’s, Romeo had a deceptively fantastic ass. There was a satisfaction in seeing it, like Cherry was looking at something she wasn’t meant to. Forbidden fruit, as it were.
It also made for a great target. The muscles in her ass clenched, already anticipating the lashing. It was hardly an issue to wrench Romeo’s reluctant hands behind her back and secure them with her belt. Restraints made her thrashing much more manageable. Her wrists slid against each other, the friction already starting to rub them raw.
“You can stop this whenever you like,” Cherry reminded her. She meant it. Romeo could leave, pack up her second hand fetish gear and get the fuck out of Cherry’s house. The coward’s way out. Anecdotally, Cherry knew her roommate wasn’t above that kind of surrender, but that had been when she was in her twenties, before they had even met. Back when Cherry’s life had been infinitely easier.
Romeo didn’t stop trying to buck her off, but she kept her lips sealed. Maybe she could be taught- but she wasn’t getting off that easy.
The first strike was crucial. It would set the tone for everything that followed. Cherry did a few practice swings, feeling the body beneath her flinch forcefully from just the sound of it sliding through the air. She couldn’t help but smile.
The first crack landed on the right buttock. Romeo howled like she’d been stabbed- in a way, she had. The silver buckle had bitten into her flesh greedily, a bloody welt already starting to form. No warm up, no breaks, just the full force of Cherry’s rage. In some places, the pattern would leave a scarlet imprint branded in her skin. No stranger to this kind of discipline, Cherry felt a brief pang of sympathy pain. She’d once had a mark on the inside of her thigh for three years from a studded belt. She wondered if these would last any longer.
The buckle was only for the initial onslaught. Cherry readjusted her weapon, feeling the weight of the cool metal against her palm as she drew her arm back. Leather snapped against Romeo’s ass, the backs of her thighs, leaving her glowing redder than lit coals, raw and stinging. She’d found a steady rhythm, landing blow after blow. Sweat began to drip down her face, soaking dark patches into her t-shirt. When Romeo was not sobbing, she begged. Between grunts and screams, she pieced together word fragments, any configuration her desperate brain could think of to make it stop.
It couldn’t have gone on longer than ten minutes, fifteen tops. They were both out of breath by the time Cherry decided to pause. Maybe she didn’t want pigs at her door for a noise complaint. Thoroughly winded, Cherry looped the belt around her fist for safe keeping, watching as Romeo slowly steadied her breathing. The trembling in her shoulders slowly subsided. Red marks crisscrossed laced up and down Romeo's backside, her ass lit up like the fourth of July. Cherry had been more concerned with results than presentation.
A little tinge of that ever present dom guilt began to scratch at Cherry's insides. The buckle might have been a step too far. The extremity of punishment in the heat of ire can be a difficult thing to dole out fairly. Fear was an integral element for both parties, but was no good to anyone if it left the recipient borderline catatonic. In her years on the scene, she’d never driven anyone to that edge, but she had watched it happen- dished out by eager but inexperienced hands who couldn’t determine the line. Her handiwork would be apparent for at least a month- God only knows how the pissant was gonna be able to sit down after this. There was some antiseptic in the medicine cabinet, nothing gouged too deeply to call for stitches.
Gingerly, Cherry took her boot off Romeo’s back and nudged her with it, a quick test of good will. She needn't have worried- a steel toe to her crotch had Romeo singing a different tune. All it took was a light tap for her to arch her dripping cunt into the pressure. Romeo muttered something unintelligible into the floor, grinding her neglected sex. Guilt assuaged.
The shameless display was too much to bear. Cherry stooped down to take Romeo by the hair at the nape of her neck, bringing her up to sit on her knees. Thick black hair cut boyishly short stuck out at odd angles, whatever dollar store hair gel she used was sweating off. The tip of a dusty pink tongue rested between her teeth, poking out just from her lips, shiny from sweat and saliva. Another fresh trail of spit fell from the corner of her mouth down past her chin. Leaning in much too close, Cherry could feel the hot flush of Romeo's cheek against her own, a fine coat of peach fuzz tickling her. There was a particular scent that trailed her, one of charcoal and weed and the tail end of a fire, burning things. Underneath it was her musk, that sweaty concoction of flesh and blood and dander that reminded Cherry she had an animal in her hands, not a little plastic soldier.
“Two options,” Cherry told her, feeling the woman's heartbeat quicken beneath her fingertips. “You take another round of whipping, or you tell me how you'll make this up to me.”
To her surprise, Romeo considered this with great care. She rocked gently on the balls of her feet as she thought it over. Was taking the belt again an actual option in her mind? Wonders never cease.
“Your boots- I want to clean your boots.” Unorthodox, for her at least, but it would do. Cherry went to work on removing the restraint around her wrists. Romeo sighed, grateful for the use of her hands once more.
“Okay- spit shine,” Cherry offered, standing to her full height. “If you try to cheap out, you get the belt again. They better shine like the top of the mothafuckin’ Chrysler building. Strip, shitheel. You won’t like it if I do it for you. ”
Romeo had a deceptively soft body. Perpetually clad in denim, leather and cotton, most girls assumed she had more of the gym cut definition typical of the butches they fingered themselves silly to. Pale for her complexion, hardly anything above the wrists and ankles or below the neck saw sunlight. Plump brown breasts nested sublimely on her chest, always tucked behind crossed arms, her default defensive pose. Skin so pliant and thin it yielded bruises under what felt like the slightest provocation, all the resilience of an overripe peach. Hair all over, dark and silky, even across her forearms. A bush that looked like it housed baby birds. A constellation of moles dotted her backside and shoulders.
“Double time” Cherry barked. Romeo was taking her sweet ass time with something most people mastered by grade school. Never nude, this one, not even to fuck. If she hadn’t spent the past decade sharing the same bedroom and shower, Cherry would have thought she showered in her jeans. She was shivering, though not from the cold, her teeth chattering. A small pile of dark clothes were left beside Romeo’s feet like roadkill. There was some of that old world charm to her, where you couldn’t tell if Romeo was twenty five or forty five. She’d had the same dark eyes, same defiant mouth her whole life. Definitely not toned, no one would wax on about her being carved from marble. Just got softer the older she got.
“Where’s your kit?” Romeo mumbled. Her eyes were downcast, staring at her bare feet. Cherry scoffed, taking a seat on the storage bench in the hall.
“Same place it always is, bitch, but that’s not the right question.” A cruel sense of satisfaction swept over her as Romeo struggled to find the right way to ask.
“Can I-”
“You’re mumbling. You weren’t that shy when I was tanning your hide, so fucking speak up.”
“May I grab your shine kit?”
Cherry sat back in her seat, a giddy feeling seeping into her cunt. She hadn’t decided yet if she would use Romeo’s mouth. That might feel too much like a reward, her eagerly lapping at Cherry’s aching pussy, melting her core with a sloven tongue. Without thinking, Cherry’s hand went between her legs, knuckles rocking against the seam of her jeans. Her clit felt like it was on fire. Her fugue lifted when she saw the look on Romeo’s face, how her eyes were deadlocked on Cherry’s occupied hand. Slack jawed, without the shame to stop herself from tightening her hips reflexively. Cherry laughed, removed the hand from her crotch to slap the belt against its palm. That seemed to shock Romeo out of it.
“Go fetch. And grab me a beer while you're at it,” she added right as Romeo turned to leave. “I’m feeling parched.”
Shining Cherry’s boots felt like a religious rite. Romeo was down on her knees again, quiet and irreverent as she dusted off debris and scrubbed the caked-on mud with her soap up bare fingers. When she worked them into the grooves, it almost felt as if she were fingering them, getting to their most sensitive parts. The polish was applied in tight circles with a well used cloth. Her back was arched as she worked, hunched over the boot balanced in her hands. Cherry could make out the gentle nobbles of her spine. The beer was ice cold, fresh from the fridge, and she slurped it happily as Romeo buffed out the polish with an oversized boar's hair brush.
A sharp hacking sound came from the back of Romeo’s throat. Cherry sharply jabbed her heel into the idiot’s windpipe- she choked on her own loogie as Cherry sat up, deeply annoyed.
“Nuh uh. Fuck that. You're doing it proper. Put your tongue on it, princess. French kiss ‘em.”
With that correction, Romeo went to work on the best spit shine of her life. Working up slowly, she placed a few tentative kisses at the toe, looking deep into Cherry’s eyes with something stalled halfway between lust and contempt. She got Cherry’s boot nice and slippery. Her tongue left slippery snail trails in its wake, an erotic line she shined with a cloth till it was blinding. The sheer effort of it was apparent- Romeo was nobody’s fool. Someone had instilled in her a good sense of pride in material items, a regard for them that elevated their status. Cherry had half a mind to find that good Samaritan and buy them a drink. Some of Romeo’s spit dripped out of her mouth and onto her tits- it was utterly impossible to tell if this was for show. A part of Cherry liked to believe it was. A last ditch effort for pity, trying to remind Cherry of her least reprehensible traits. Maybe she’d pivot, take pity and give them both a softer end to the evening.
Fat chance.
“Stop,” she said, growing bored of the performance. Romeo stilled, worry narrowed her shoulders, frightened that she’d done something wrong. That was the trouble with elaborate scenes like this- Cherry liked her pleasure straight to the point, unrepentant and immediate. It was hard to prolong a good orgasm without losing her boner altogether. The night was long, and she was still facing the immeasurable disappointment of being kicked from her favorite watering hole. This town wasn’t exactly lousy with leather bars, let alone any that wouldn’t mind a pair of dykes on the prowl.
“Cher?” came Romeo’s timid voice. It was cute how she lowered it, always a slight rasp at the end. Cherry figured she might as well skip the middle man and start smoking.
“No one asked you to speak,” she snapped, trying to figure out how to handle the situation. This wasn’t about her own pleasure- she could get that from the three dozen numbers saved in her phone. This was, explicitly, about Romeo and her fuck up. She was docile now, but who knew how long that would last? A more permanent solution was in order. Something that couldn’t be branded in flesh, but in the very psyche of that hapless little boydyke.
She kicked off her shoes, an idea starting to bud. “Put those away,” she told Romeo, watching her closely, trying to predict whatever she was about to pull out of her back pocket. Jokes on her- Cherry had very little idea of where she was going with this, but she’d already committed to it. “Then meet me in the play room. You’re sleeping alone tonight.”
Their shared home had two bedrooms, and they had slept in the same one since Romeo had invited herself in well over a decade ago and never found her way out again. It was decided very early on that a DIY dungeon was nonnegotiable. Two grown uncoupled women sharing a 300 square foot bedroom could easily spell disaster, and on occasion it had. Despite this, Cherry could sacrifice some privacy and a bed all to herself for this one indulgence- and she was sure to pull out all the stops.
The playroom was wallpapered with deep crimson velvet, sporting a floral design that just brushed up against vaguely yonic. The optical illusion was crucial to setting the tone. The bold color made the room feel far smaller, more intimate. The floor had been tiled in marbled black ceramic, chill to the touch. Far easier to clean than the carpet she had ripped up when she had first bought the place. There was a window set into the wall to the left, but it had quickly been dressed with heavy damask curtains. In lieu of a toggle switch, Cherry had a dimmer installed, to command the ambiance as she saw fit. The ceiling was mirrored, perfect for someone to admire themselves when forced on their back.
There was a television mounted to the wall with a well used vinyl couch housed in front of it. Its skin was already starting to split. Cherry had been meaning to replace it- leather aged far more gracefully. If one were to open the cabinet below it, they’d find a sizable collection of X rated films. Most of them had to be scoured from various junk piles on the internet and burned onto DVDs, but a handful were bought in shops.
The real gear was tucked away in bulky armoire, but a few more elaborate set pieces were arranged around the room. A steel cage doubled as the coffee table in front of the couch. On the other end of the room, a neck stockade hung from chain ceiling mounts. Just beyond it was a padded bench with arm and leg rests splayed out from either side, to keep someone comfortably in doggy position. Little silver hoops for restraints winked in the low light. They could also be swung beneath the bench, if one didn’t care about comfort as a factor.
When Romeo finally brought her slow ass to the playroom, Cherry immediately set her to work, fetching matches and a handful of tealight candles. The shadows cast along the wall grew longer, convulsing as the flames danced from side to side.
From her back pocket, Cherry produced a carton of Marlboros. Drawing her close, Cherry took hold of Romeo’s cock. With a single flick of her wrist, she struck a match along its length and used it to light her cigarette. She wished she could bottle the starved look on that girl, the ache that looked like it could carve a canyon through her.
“The stocks,” Cherry directed, blowing a mouthful of smoke directly into Romeo’s face. She moved with a slight limp, trying not to aggravate any of the bruises patterned across her backside. Cute- Cherry moved in close and took the biggest handful of Romeo’s thickset ass that she could. Letting out a pained shriek, Romeo tried to bolt, attempting to maneuver out of Cherry’s reach, but a broad arm wrapped around her upper chest had her unable to break away, as helpless as a snared fox.
“How’s it feel?” Cherry murmured into her ear, taking a small nibble at the lobe. Her ear was pockmarked with empty piercing holes. Confiscations- Romeo had put hundreds of hours and dollars into cultivating a look. If she’d ever bothered to ask Cherry her opinion, she’d say Romeo had put a lot of effort into looking like someone's older brother fronted a nu metal band. Or just an all around dick. She’d get her bling back after an attitude adjustment, along with her leather and shades. It was a miracle Cherry hadn’t made her come home barefoot
“Cher, you went fuckin’ pyro on my ass.” Romeo gasped at a girlish pit when Cherry dug her fingers in deeper.
“Is that all?”
“It hurts so bad I can’t- I wanted to pass out, nothing’s ever hurt that much-”
“Bullshit!” Cherry shouted. She took hold of Romeo’s jaw, angled that pouty face with the full, soft lips to face her. Cherry’s fingers pressed so relentlessly into her cheeks that her mouth squished together, unable to speak. “I’ve seen you take worse than that and I knew your needy ass liked it.” The hand on Romeo’s ass forced her thighs apart, spreading the wetness of her pussy across swollen labia. “Is this what gets you going, bitch? You need someone to smack you around? You know, the trouble with you is thinking up new ways to remind you that you ain’t shit. I could stick a fire poker up your shitter and you’d find some way to squirt. Isn’t that right? Answer me!”
“Yes!” Romeo cried. Her words were slurred somewhat from the way Cherry held her head in place. She rocked her throbbing cunt onto Cherry’s fingers. They didn’t have much reach, but were rather fat and left a wonderfully full feeling if she pressed them inside. Instead, Cherry circled Romeo’s weeping entrance with her middle finger, keeping it right on the edge, not even the tip. “Yes, yes! I fucking need it, Cher! I’m so fuckin’ sorry-”
“Don’t play with me.”
“I am, I swear on-”
“That don’t mean shit to me, boy! You only care about your next lay, stuffing your fuckholes with something nice and thick.” Cherry moved both hands, one completely covered Romeo’s mouth while the other took hold of her schlubby cock and gave it a few good pumps, lubing it up with pussy juice. “It’s a wonder you don’t walk around everywhere with this thing up your pussy. Wouldn’t you like that? If you weren’t so little, I’d wear this myself, fuck you with your own prick, little girl. Drill your sorry, second-hand cunt till you don’t know which way is up. God musta laughed Himself stupid when he thought up a cock worshiping boydyke like you.”
They were approaching a point of no return. A hand was on Cherry’s thigh- Romeo was bracing herself, her legs trembled so terribly it was a wonder they were still able to bear her weight. She moaned extravagantly behind Cherry’s hand, driven wild by the mere thought of being bent over and screwed with her own hardware. Something fierce was working its way up and through Romeo’s body, the kind of thing that made a girl throw her head back and gasp wordlessly in ecstasy.
She might have, had Cherry not pulled back right then. She could smell Romeo’s orgasm from a mile off- like hell she’d give the bitch the satisfaction. If she wasn’t careful, Romeo was liable to cum without a hand on her. She excited easily.
Cherry hustled her victim over to the stock suspended from the ceiling. Once she was bent at the waist and her neck had been snugly secured within its confines, Cherry got to work fastening leather cuffs around Romeo’s wrist to hook them up outstretched behind her back to the chains the board was hung from. A bar stool with more of that ghastly peeling vinyl was dragged over to prop up Romeo’s knees and ensure she wasn’t hanged outright as Cherry tied her ankles to the tops of her thighs with more chain. Less secure than rope, but she had always preferred the look of gleaming silver against a warm body. The room got quite cold after all, to compensate for how hot its occupants usually became during exertion.
“You’ll stay here,” Cherry told her as she pulled the black bandana from her back pocket and stuffed it in her mouth. If she’d thought to do this earlier at the bar, maybe Romeo wouldn’t be in this mess. No one could save that girl from digging her own grave. “I know that isn’t what you really want stuffed in your kisser, but this’ll keep you quiet. Now you just relax, and think long and hard about tonight, Miss Priss. I’ll come get you in the morning if you’ve been decent and if I’m in the mood.” She took another drag of her cigarette, looking over the filthy display in front of her. Looking at her, she was seized by some nescient urge to take a blade and shaving cream to her, actually shave the beast bald. Now that would really take the wind out of her sails. Romeo’s eyes were wide and still, that look dogs got when they heard something nobody else could. Cherry took her cigarette from her mouth and stubbed it on her left shoulder. A slow hiss eased its way from behind the makeshift gag. Making certain to blow out the candles before she left, Cherry left some music playing on low before shutting the door behind her.
The night belonged to her, utterly and completely. Cherry took as long as she liked in the shower, well past when the nozzle stopped spraying hot water. She was sticky from sweat, from spilled beer and spit. The water was the only way to wash it all away- the exhaustion, the humiliation, simmering rage. All of it circled the drain, carried away to some distant place Cherry didn’t have to think about.
“Did she really get you both barred?” Caroline urged her excitedly over the phone. What a gossip hound.
Cherry fingered the drawstring of her pajama bottoms, replaying the evening’s disaster in her mind’s eye. “How many times have I told that girl to zip it before somebody pops her in the mouth?” She shook her head dejectedly. “It’s a damn shame, Carrie. Lotta the boys in there thought she was real cute, too. Bet it was the only reason they let her in. Probably didn’t believe she was only packin’ plastic till she got her fly down.”
“No kidding?”
“Well- yeah. You know how she is.” Masculine in a distinctly juvenile way. Had the kind of slender, rounded edges that got them to lower their guard, with enough salt and vinegar to keep them interested. Romeo swung her hips like a man, scowled like a man, spat and sat like she had the biggest dick in the room. “They don’t meet a lot of girls like her. Don’t mean much- guys like that can get it up for just about anything. Nobody’s asking for marriage, she’s just good eye candy... doesn’t mean Ro can go around disrespecting them. They’ve got their pride, y’know? Probably would think less of ‘em if they hadn’t given us the boot.” Cherry heaved a glutted sigh. Stupid, hard-headed little girl. Always fucking up something good.
“Cherry?” came the tinny voice of Caroline through the phone’s crackling speakers.
“I’ll be alright,” Cherry assured her. She felt manifold, had too many heads about the whole predicament. She didn’t do well with the whole depressed circuit. One thing would lead to another, and before she knew it, she will have spent a whole month in bed wanting something she couldn’t have. It happened with her first girlfriend, when she’d been fired from that hotel, when her car was repo’d two summers ago. Time and again, there had only been one real remedy for the situation. “I’m a big girl, I can handle myself,” she told Caroline, slipping her hand past her pajama bottoms and underwear.
“I’d say so,” she agreed in a tone that immediately rubbed Cherry the wrong way.
“Well excuse me for not being into that heroin chic shit,” she snapped, working her oversensitive clit in slow circles, pressing into it hard enough to make it burn, make it hurt. Cherry squeezed her ample thighs around her hand.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Caroline drawled. “You’re a perfect teddy, Cherry Bear, I’d be depriving the people of what they want.”
“What d’you mean by that?” Cherry was a bit breathless. She wondered if Caroline was just being polite. God, what if she was doing the same thing- listening to Cherry pleasure herself and being unable to stop from getting off in turn. The very thought of it made Cherry’s throat grow dry. With great trepidation, she pressed her middle finger inside herself, feeling the inner walls of her cunt contract deliciously in response.
“I'm just talking to myself, don't read much into it. Honestly though, there's very little about you that I'd change. You've aged like wine, Cher.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Absolutely,” Caroline purred, “you're richer, less bitter, more complex, possess a fuller body- I could go on.” More than anything Cherry wished she would. It had to be on purpose, the way she spoke with that erotic lilt in her, just a bit breathy. On many occasions she’d heard Caroline put on that voice for her submissives. It left whoever heard it with a sort of heady, floating sensation, as if it were a voice they were hearing in a dream. Cherry’s entire body was flush with a terrible heat, from the tips over her ears to her molten core. She was so wet now, there was no trouble getting another finger inside.
“That’s... nice,” she said inexpertly. It was getting hard to think of full sentences. Cherry was much closer to the edge than she had anticipated.
“What have you done with her?” Caroline asked suddenly.
“Mhm- what do you mean?” It felt as if Cherry had missed something. Her brain was abuzz with sex, she felt so full and revved, Caroline’s low voice on the line kept her from rushing to the end. It would be a relief if she knew, a blessing, and Cherry could be as loud as she liked, fuck herself as hard as she needed to. Sweat slipped down her thighs as she pistoned fingers into her pussy.”
There was a husky laugh on the other end of the line. “Ro-ro. I don’t see you leaving that kind of thing unpunished. Would you tell me what you did to her? Please? I’m just dying to know.”
Cherry rocked her hips up, grinding her clit into the heel of her palm. “Since you asked so nicely.” Recounting the evening's debauchery with perfect recollection was a piece of cake. Cherry poured over every sordid detail- how Romeo’s ass would ripple when it was struck, the warble in her throat when she cried out, the way she lapped at Cherry’s boots like it was her last meal, how perfectly debased she looked tied up in their playroom. She lingered over every syllable, replaying the night in her mind over and over on fast forward. Caroline digs at her, probing for details, ravenous for any second hand lechery she can get, stoking the fire that burned brighter and hotter with each passing moment. So pent up, she was panting now, out loud, not a chance Caroline hadn’t caught on. The woman wasn’t dim, she was dumping gasoline on the flame.
“Ooh, I can hardly stand it!” Caroline crooned, “I don’t know how you got your hands off her. If it were me, I wouldn’t be able to stop till it was all done. And you can’t even host while she’s... shall we say out of commission. The way you drag this out for days...”
“It’s a talent of mine,” Cherry confessed, trying to drag her pleasure as far as she could manage. Her fingers slid so easily between the lips of her soaked cunt. It was to the point that she couldn’t even graze her clit. A strong breeze could get her to climax, but it didn’t feel right. This had to be perfect, had to knock her out in one go. “But I- it wouldn’t be right to let her have t- too much fun.”
Caroline hummed in agreement- oh, Cherry could just picture her making the same sound with her bubblegum glossed lips wrapped around her cunt, teasing her clit with her tongue. She moaned outright, hips arching off the bed. Not yet, not yet.
Caroline again- fucking Caroline, gorgeous Caroline was saying on the phone, “I see your dilemma. That’s always the trouble with masochist types isn’t it? Always feels like they want to get in trouble. You can just see them itch for the switch.” It was hard to find the specifics of anything Caroline said particularly interesting then, but the sound of her voice at Cherry’s ear would do. She felt so exposed, spreading herself so wide while it felt as if someone was sat right next to her, chatting about the weather. “You know, I had the same kind of trouble with my pup, Little Debbie, yeah? She had this terrible habit of chewing up the furniture, so we got some of that bitter spray, to deter her. Trouble was, she went nuts for the stuff! Damn shame.”
“That’s- uh, sounds rough...”
“It was, for a time,” she agreed. “Then we got her crate trained, I think that helped take the edge off. A room she could cool off in, away from distractions, temptations- have you cum yet, Cherry? I hope not- I don’t want you holding out on me.”
The sudden acknowledgement shocked her worse than any praise or hateful word could. Cherry was suddenly acutely aware of her entire body- every follicle of hair on her head, the itch under her fingernails, her toes curling into the mattress and the way the inner walls of her cunt just barely spasmed in response to Caroline’s voice.
“No,” Cherry breathed, dragging her nails across her inner thigh, “No, I haven't- but I’m real close.
“Good. Lemme hear it.”
Gratitude came down on Cherry like chilled rain on a hot day. She expressed her thanks with great zeal, milking herself for everything she was worth. Her mouth was bitten so ferociously she bled from a split lip, her bed creaked from exertion as it rocked. Her muscles burned as they tensed- she might have pulled something in her neck. Cherry’s shouts bounced off the walls of her room.
“Was all that for my benefit?” Caroline teased when Cherry had come down somewhat.
“Partly,” she admitted, “But I need to ask you a favor.” Something Caroline had said had sparked her interest. She might be starting a new project. “Is Cam busy tomorrow? I want to build a doghouse.”
Diving into my old drafts as I return to writing. Should I keep working on this smutfic?
“Beauregard, are you trying to … hire me?”
Beau scratched at her chin and then gestured at the open pouch of platinum on top of the dressing table. “Well, yeah, I kind of thought that was obvious.”
A wicked smile (a familiar, Jestery wicked smile) painted Marion’s face. “You are trying to hire your friend’s mother for an evening of sex?”
Beau could feel herself growing hot. It had taken a lot for her to work up the courage to come up here and knock on the door, let alone actually give the Motherfucking Ruby of the Motherfucking Sea the platinum. Beau had sort of hoped that would be enough momentum to carry her through the night. She hadn’t expected … questions.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Being made a Prime may have changed Smokescreen in several ways, mainly physically, but there was one thing that hadn't changed. He was still mind numbingly oblivious.
And it was driving Bumblebee crazy.
The adjustment to a new Prime is hard on everyone, but no one moreso than the young Prime himself. Which has caused him to throw himself into his role, perhaps a bit too much.
Bumblebee is determined to make two things happen. One, make Ignis take a break before he burns out. And two, make him finally take notice of his feelings for him.
truly the writer Experience of getting interrupted midway through dreaming up a story, having to do stuff, and coming back to the story with your head still in that floaty place of “now I get to read that story I was looking forward to” only to realize that false, now I get to write that story I was looking forward to
Hello Hello! This is by far one of my favorite things I have written! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please don't hesitate to like, comment or reblog. It means so much to authors. It also gives them feedback. Anyways without further ado!
Tom Holland x Reader *Y/n Y/ln*
Warnings: Mentions of a fire. Calling 911. Weddings. Proposing
Summary: Tom tries repeatedly to pop the question.
Type: Fluff <3
AUTHORS POV
Tom had been trying to pop the question for months now. He asked for your father's blessing; he told his mum. He even asked Zendaya, your sister, and some of your other close friends for help on picking the ring, date, and place.
So when the day finally came for him to get down on one knee and ask for your hand in marriage, you had to postpone your date because your sister went into an early labor.
Tom reluctantly delayed the occasion and planned another date. This date was in a small family owned Vineyard somewhere in napa. The sun had started to set and just as you were about to turn around (Tom was already on his knee) you spotted that a part of the grape Vines had caught on fire. Hurriedly you called 911. At this point Tom had already gotten up and started to pack up your stuff so you could get out of there safely.
Exasperated by his multiple failed attempts to ask for your hand in marriage he decided that he would try one last time and if it didn't work he would wait a while longer. He thought "maybe the universe is purposefully trying to sabotage my plans because it's not time yet"
So the third time he tried to pop the question, he set a date in which he made sure you both had no plans or meetings going on. He drove you to a park somewhere downtown and he had a picnic set up.
He was very nervous, “What if she says no?” or “what if i mess up the speech?” “Third times the charm-Third times the charm-Third times the charm” he kept repeating to himself. If it didn't work out it was ok. But he just really wanted it to work out. Around an hour into the picnic he mentally psyched himself up one more time and as nervous as he was finally decided to pop the question.
“Y/n Y/l/n *you got this tom!* you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me. I love you more than anything in this world. I can guarantee there’ll be tough times.*he gets down on one knee* I guarantee that at some point one or both of us are gonna want to get out of this. *reaches into pocket* But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine *takes out the ring* I'll regret it for the rest of my life because I know in my heart you are the only one for me. Be with me now and forever?” At the end of his speech Tom’s whole face was flushed a bright red. Breathing heavily he looked into your eyes, looking, searching for any sign of rejection. But when he looked at you all he could see were the tears that were threatening to spill. He could only see your wide smile.
And as if the world suddenly stops, he sees your mouth opening. “YES YES OH MY GOD YES A MILLION TIMES YES!” you said nearly shouting. You were screaming, but at a reasonable level for a person who just got asked for their hand in marriage. Tom let out a sigh of relief finally being able to breathe again. You lunged at Tom and wrapped your arms around his neck, trapping him in a tight hug. When you both finally let go you saw Tom’s family and yours emerging from the trees surrounding both of you. Harry had a camera in hand and was clicking away. Nicki and Dom were in tears. Your sister was carrying her newborn, looking at you with one of the biggest smiles you have ever seen on her face. Her husband followed close behind. And your father beside him. Paddy walked in between his parents. Sam walked next to Harry, carrying a tray of delicious looking desserts. As they reach you and Tom, one by one congratulate you and engulfed you in big hugs. After giving them their love they talked with you guys. Both you and Tom explained your hopes and wishes for the wedding.
“Hey Tom?” you said to him as you were walking back to the car. “Yes Love?” “How many times did you try to propose?” Tom chuckled at the question. Eyes shining with love. “Believe it or not, I only tried three times.” Tom responded.
“You know what they say Tommy, Third Times the Charm.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
After the events of the show, Marc decides to be more open to Steven from now on, to finally let go of the walls he created between them. What he didn’t expect was that Steven had walls of his own.
Or
In which Marc finds out that Steven has been living a double life after the events of Season 1. Marc, for his part, has finally gotten to live a normal life after everything he’s gone through with Khonshu, so Steven took it upon himself to give him a sense of normalcy while hiding his truth.
