#after ​i walked out of the stall and said “it’s very difficult to urinate in heels“ and my friend did like the facepalm thing and the other

[autistic-bibliophile]

another day of autism making me absolutely hilarious accidentally

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bullseye, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Are you the insufferable, cocky, absolutely-no-good-for-anyone female equivalent of a fuckboy? Maybe. Okay, yeah. But guess who decided to come along and interrupt your conquests? Jeon Jungkook. What now? Complain to your best friend Kim Taehyung all day or fucking do something about it?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; Taehyung getting shitfaced lol; you're a cocky asshole and so is Jungkook, welp; schemes; smut (fem reader, making out / dry humping in public, cowgirl, m-masturbation, edging / orgasm denial, penetrative sex, so much kissing); non-idol!BTS; (secretly pining) fuckboy!Jungkook x bisexual, fuckgirl!reader; ft artist, best friend!Taehyung; mostly reader's POV with a short JK's POV

yes, it's purple-haired Butter JK

--

now playing – 마.피.아. in the morning by itzy

“Are you kidding me? Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

“You need to calm down,” Kim Taehyung said, patting your shoulder and handing you a mojito.

“What I need is a fucking bow and arrow to shoot down this fucking pest!”

“I know you were the archery champion in high school, but that’s still a weird thing to think,” replied that baritone voice, pushing you into a chair so he could sit down as well, observing you violently chugging down the entire mojito in your rage. He seemed highly amused, looking a bit like a young French socialite in a black beret, loose tan dress shirt, and black slacks with black loafers. Gold accents because Kim Taehyung was that bitch. “Never ceases to impress me that you can do that.”

You pulled the glass from your lips, ice and mint clinking. “This is the third girl I’ve been dating that he’s just–” You flapped a hand in the general direction of the crowd at the bar, completely ignoring Taehyung’s comment about your record-breaking skills of draining cocktails. “–unashamedly making out with when clearly I’m right here.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, far too crass for how drop-dead handsome he was, but it seemed that he didn’t care. “I doubt he knows you’re here or that you’re dating them. And to make it fair on him, you were casually dating them all at once, so technically, no one is at fault here,” he added.

You narrowed your eyes. “I wasn’t–”

Taehyung gave you this look.

The look of ‘shut-up-you-know-I’m-right’.

Being your best friend, he had a right to do that.

“Shouldn’t you be mad at the girl anyway? Being faithful and all that, which, by the way, you are not.”

“Dating is not the same as being in a relationship,” you argued.

“Mmm, so fucking them is not indicative enough that you should be less of a fuckboy.”

“I’m not a fuckboy,” you muttered. “I’m a woman.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “The general term still stands because you’re a class-A asshole.”

You closed your eyes and sucked in a deep breath, trying not to bolt home and buy a bow and arrow online to shoot, not Jeon Jungkook, but Kim Taehyung, because he was testing your last nerve with the truth.

“Again, why are you not mad at them?” Taehyung reoriented the conversation with a sweep of his arm when you opened your eyes, prompting your gaze to shift and witness Jeon Jungkook with his tongue down a pretty girl’s throat. This cheeky bastard was even wearing a leather jacket and white shirt, just like you. The only difference was that you wore a leather miniskirt and he wore black jeans with rips in the thighs, but both of you were wearing heeled black moto-style boots.

“Because he’s the denominator in this equation,” you snapped, smacking your glass on the table.

“Please do not make math references. My brain is not made for that.”

“Fractions? Tae, seriously, are you defective or–”

“Maybe he’s doing it to piss you off.”

“Well, I am pissed off!”

The bar was very loud with music and noise. Your shout was still clearly heard. Neither you or Taehyung seemed to care that people turned to look at you two and shake their heads.

Taehyung shrugged. “Then he succeeded.”

You clicked your tongue. “Why, though? I didn’t do anything to him. He just started popping up stealing my girls. What if I switch back to chasing dick and he takes them too?”

Taehyung snorted. “I doubt it. You’re just continuing on this train because you’re stubborn.”

As usual, he saw right through you.

He raised an elegant hand and tapped his lips. “Maybe he likes you.”

You gave Taehyung the most disbelieving, fiery, indignant look that you had ever produced in your life.

“Or, he doesn’t,” he hastily corrected. “Let’s face it, sometimes I don’t even like you and I would murder for your dumb ass.”

You tapped the melting glass of icy mint onto the tabletop.

Menacingly.

“If you think about it,” Taehyung began tentatively, scooting his chair slightly away from you with your flaming eyes boring holes in the back of Jeon Jungkook’s head. His hair was dark violet now so you could spot him easily, pinning your (not yours, but you know, that was your prey at one point) girl against the back wall of the bar. “He always goes after your target. He wants you to notice something.”

You watched a YouTube video once about making your own bow and arrow. It didn’t seem that difficult, all things considered. Sharpening a long stick with a knife and–

“Stop thinking about murder.”

You jerked your head back to Taehyung and his honey-brown curls framing his amused expression. You glared in response.

“I’ve never interacted with him a day in my life,” you frowned, abandoning your homicidal tendencies for the moment. “What does he want me to notice?”

Taehyung gave you a pained look. You returned with a black stare. Then he sighed and shook his head.

“He’s a fuckboy. You’re the female equivalent of a fuckboy. What do you think he wants?”

“My body count?”

Taehyung slapped his own face, muttering under his breath. “… be part of your body count.”

“Sorry, what?” You raised your voice over the bass. “Can’t hear you over the music.”

He raised his head. “I don’t know. Fight him. See what happens.”

“I’m not gonna win a fistfight.”

Taehyung looked ready to fistfight you.

You stood up, dragging him by the arm. “Come on, wingman. I need another drink. I’ll buy, since you got me the last one.”

Taehyung laughed, loud and full, yanking his arm out of your grip and clapping a hand around your shoulders, pulling you to him so your body knocked into him. You grimaced, now forced to walk side by side with him, not seeing the looks shared between the patrons witnessing you two together.

“Now we’re talking. I wanna get trashed.”

“Cure for a broken heart, am I right?”

“Mine’s shattered,” Taehyung chuckled, rubbing the left side of his chest playfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the hurt in his eyes. It was his idea to go out tonight and assist you with getting laid but, one, you didn’t need assistance and, two, he had recently broken up. It was pretty obvious he just wanted you to buy him drinks and have an excuse to do something.

Which was fine with you, until Jeon Jungkook showed up holding your previous eye candy.

Hmph.

Whatever, you had a Taehyung to nurse back to health with an obscene amount of alcohol.

-

Two hours later, you were standing in the men’s bathroom, holding Taehyung’s beret with one hand and his hair in the other as he vomited loudly into the toilet.

“Sup.”

The guy looked in the stall and then looked at you.

“You’re not supposed to be here…”

You raised an eyebrow. “You wanna hold his hair?”

The guy slunk away at your dismissive tone.

Taehyung tapped your thigh and you patted him on the head soothingly. He flushed and coughed.

"S... sorry," he croaked wetly.

You chuckled. "Wash your mouth, ya nasty."

He got up and you straightened his clothes in an almost maternal fashion.

"Need water, I think..." he winced, stumbling past you to the counter. You followed him to make sure he didn't hurl in the fucking sink.

"I'll be right back. Don't do anything crazy."

"Heh, that’s you," he slurred as he put his hands under the tap to wash up.

You plopped his beret on your head and sauntered out of the men's bathroom, unbothered by the stares and the people trying to catch your eye. It took you no time at all to waltz to the counter and obtain the water, striding back to the men's bathroom with the tall glass.

Only to run into you-know-who.

The girl sputtered your name in surprise as if she hadn't met you in this very bar a couple of weeks ago.

You completely ignored her existence, narrowing your eyes at the smirking face of Jeon Jungkook.

There was no denying his attractiveness. His purple hair was a little messy now, curling around his high cheekbones and large brown eyes. The dim light of the bar cast strange shadows over his chiseled jaw and shapely lips, curved into a devilish grin. He had a mole and red lipstick residue underneath his lower lip.

You had a strong urge to douse him and his leather jacket with your giant glass of water.

Taehyung was the one who found out Jungkook's name for you. You sent him on the mission after the first time this little shit started meddling in your business.

At this moment, you remembered that.

You pointedly looked away, walking past Jungkook, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose, annoyed that he seemed pretty strong under that jacket, muscular and lean. Whatever. You had a large bear cub named Kim Taehyung to take care of. You didn't have time to waste on Jeon Jungkook.

"Hey."

You stiffened at the deep, silvery voice. Of course. He had to have a sexy voice too. Bitch.

"You should apologize."

Your eyes flickered to the glass of water. It was pretty cold in your hand. You raised your chin back up, facing towards the bathrooms.

The choice was easy.

You continued waking and raised your free hand to flip Jeon Jungkook the bird, off to deliver the water to your best friend.

Some guy at the urinal screamed as you entered the men's bathroom but you completely ignored him, only focusing on Taehyung, who was gripping the corner of the sink, turning not to pass out, pallid face dripping and looking green.

"Drink this and I'll take you home."

-

"Ugh, thanks for the other day... sorry I wasn't the best wingman... I ended up making you exorcize my demons instead..."

You laughed, jabbing a toothpick in the steaming fried chicken. You and Kim Taehyung again, hanging out in the afternoon at the local chicken spot.

"It's cool. I know you needed it."

Taehyung frowned. "If you knew, why did you play along?"

You shrugged. "You would've done the same for me."

He smiled and popped a piece of crispy chicken in his mouth. "Yeah, if you ever had a serious relationship for once."

You glared. "This is a non-judgment zone. Shut up."

He chuckled. Then he leaned in and you grimaced, catching a whiff of his chicken breath. He was wearing a pinstriped shirt and neglected to button the first two because he was too hot to bother with some stupid buttons. You weren't going to say you could relate, but you were wearing a loose black sweater dress that was bordering on flashing your panties, so, maybe.

"I heard from a little birdie that you had a run-in with the bane of your existence."

You raised an eyebrow. "The tax man?"

Taehyung rolled his eyes. "No, the other one."

Now it was your turn to roll yours. "Oh, right. The Dark Lord."

Taehyung gave you a weird look. "Is that a movie reference or..."

"Harry Potter, ever heard of it?"

"You're such a nerd."

"That's not... anyway, so what?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "He spoke to you."

You narrowed your eyes. "Where do you get your information?"

He fidgeted. "Uh... a reliable source that chooses to remain anonymous."

Your eyes became slits. "Who."

Taehyung stick his tongue out at you. "The whole point of anonymous is you not knowing!"

"Who are you, fucking Rita Skeeter–"

"Stop with the weird references!"

"For fuck's sake," you hissed, causing a mother sitting at a table near yours to chastise you, covering their kid’s ears. You frowned, lowering your voice. "Alright so what? He opened his mouth; nothing original came out." You jabbed another piece of chicken.

"Well? Feel any tension? Sweet romance? Unbridled fury?" Taehyung piped, greatly interested in your two-second interaction with Jeon Jungkook.

You chewed, huffing. "I had a big kid to take care of. I didn't give a shit."

"Hey, I'm not a kid!" he shot back.

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, you’re more important to me than poking his pretty eyeballs out of his head, so I didn't even reply."

Taehyung paused, mid-chew. "Really?"

"Yes, I didn't say–"

"No, that I'm important to you."

Taehyung was doing that thing where his big brown eyes went all sparkly and sentimental. It was making you uncomfortable. Bad with feelings and all that. The only reason you tolerated it was because Taehyung had been like this ever since he was that dorky weird kid you defended from bullies in elementary school. A folding chair was involved and you might have watched too many WWE TLC (tables, ladders, chairs) matches as a kid, but hey, those bullies didn’t bother Taehyung ever again, did they?

You got sent to detention for the rest of the year and anger management counseling appointments, but Taehyung remained your friend throughout the whole ordeal and for years to come, tolerating your poor life choices so… worth?

You reached over and shut his open mouth. "Of course, you are, that's why I'm not calling you a disgusting pig for chewing with your mouth open."

"Oi, that's bullying!"

"You bully me all the time," you snorted and the same mom made a noise of distaste that you pretended not to hear. "Like now you keep bringing up the spawn of Satan."

"You're also the spawn of Satan, by the way."

"Yeah, and you're my guardian angel and he ain't got shit, so I’ve already won this war."

Taehyung laughed nervously.

"Er, yes... totally..."

-

Another day, another conquest.

Well, you had to find the prey first, but that wasn’t going to be hard.

“You’re a chronic asshole.”

“Thanks, Tae. You sure you don’t wanna come?”

He rolled his eyes at you as you shrugged on one of his black dress shirts. You checked the tag. Silk. Damn. Kim Taehyung was a fancy bitch. He leaned against the closet doorframe as you fitted your black leather corset-style belt at your waist to cinch it in. You often raided Taehyung’s closet and paired it with your accessories. Did he enjoy your fucking in his clothes? Probably not, but you always returned them cleaned in the proper way, so he couldn’t complain.

He did anyway.

“No, I don’t. Let me sulk.”

“Ah, yes, moody starving artist, I’ll let you be,” you snickered, slinging the waist bag over your shoulder, wearing it across your chest instead of your hips. You lightly punched him in the arm and he pretended to topple over exaggeratedly. “You going to paint today?”

He shrugged. “I think. Dunno what media I want to use.”

“Just use a bunch of different ones. Your mixed media stuff is amazing,” you replied, waltzing out of his bedroom, past his messy studio with a blank canvas balanced on a wooden easel in the center of absolute chaos of paints. You helped him organize them once, but Taehyung often was too in the zone to pay attention to neatness.

“When’s the exhibit? I want to drop by,” you commented, seeing the line of his works safely wrapped up, leaning against the wall.

“Um… next week, Thursday through Sunday,” Taehyung replied sheepishly, cheeks flaring red at the mention of his own art exhibit. He was humble even though he was talented. “I’ll text you the address. Don’t show up looking like a high-paid escort.”

You tucked your feet into your heels and raised an eyebrow.

Silk black men’s shirt worn as a dress, belted at the waist to show off your curves, bare legs out, toned calves standing out due to your sleek black high heels.

“Who, me? Never.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Text me if you need a ride.”

“You got it.”

-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You tapped your nails on the bar, having already finished your peach mojito.

“Fucking Jeon Jungkook, again?”

You needed to invest in a bow and arrow, like, yesterday.

Shoot right between his pretty eyeballs. Dude even pulled back his long, deep purple hair into a smooth ponytail with wispy strands framing his sculpted face. Was that damn eyeliner and mascara making his eyes look sharper, sexier? Fuck, he even knew how to make himself look even hotter.

Not as hot as you, of course.

“How does he always know where I’m at?” you muttered under your breath, turning away to look at the bartender and order another mojito. Watermelon. It seemed interesting. Fuck it, you were going to focus on drinking rather than the thorn in your side, Jeon Jungkook and his black dress shirt halfway buttoned and his tight-fitting black slacks with sleek oxfords. The bartender slid your glass in front of you, a gradient of pink to transparent with a little sprig of mint on top. It was a pretty drink.

You reached into your waist bag to pay, but the bartender stopped you.

“The gentleman over there paid for you. A gift.”

Oh? Maybe a potential for the night. You shifted your gaze to–

Oh.

“Tell him to fu–”

But the bartender was already off servicing other customers on this busy night.

Shit.

You know what? Fine. He put himself up as the target. He wanted to play this game.

And you never missed a bullseye.

You tilted your head to survey Jeon Jungkook out of the corner of your eye, making his way over to you, bringing your drink close to your lips. He stopped right next to you. The colorful lights of the club made rainbows dance across his lightly tanned skin and his dark lips, curled into a smug smirk.

“Hey.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

Drank.

Mmm, fuck, that was some deliciously smooth rum. The watermelon was a refreshing addition to the mint too. You probably weren’t meant to drink it all at once, but you were glaring at Jungkook who was pointedly watching your throat swallow and it was aggravating you more and more, the entire drink disappearing in record time, leaving nothing but ice and mint.

You smacked the glass down on this table with a hiss.

Jungkook purred your name with that deep, silvery voice of his. His eyes flickered down to your exposed collarbones and then back up to your face.

You clicked your tongue.

Then you turned away from him dismissively, walking past him, knocking into his arm forcefully and on purpose.

But instead of letting it happen, Jungkook shifted his weight and slid to block your path. You stopped, eyes darting up to narrow at that conceited little brat’s face. Now you could smell his cologne, fresh, sensual, a mix of pungent dragon fruit and black coffee.

Hold on.

You inhaled. Yup, no mistaking it.

That was your perfume.

Jungkook grinned as the realization hit you. How did he know what perfume you used?

“The fuck you want?” you growled.

He licked his lips slowly. He ticked his chin, taunting you.

“Finally got you to talk to me,” he purred, chuckling.

Alright, you were past causing actual bodily harm these days – jail being your primary reason – but that didn’t stop you from staring down Jeon Jungkook and his self-satisfied smirk with your signature tapering of your sharp stare.

You just stood there.

Menacingly.

He bit his lower lip, exposing that tiny mole underneath, shivering under your gaze. “Are you mad at me?” he asked, almost innocently, but there was no chance in hell that he was.

You quirked your head, lifting your chin defiantly. “Absolutely fuming,” you replied acidly.

He took a step towards you, closing the distance, so close you could feel his warmth, your breasts brushing against his chest. Now people were whispering around you two, sensing the tension between you and Jungkook. The similar outfits, the same violent energy, the same predatory aura.

As if the fox had confronted the wolf.

“What’s there to be mad about when we play the same game?” Jungkook drawled.

Cocky. The fox was so damn cocky.

“You’re just nibbling on my leftovers,” you countered, stepping forward so you pressed against him, burning body heat to burning body heat. “Which makes you the scavenger.”

Jungkook leaned down, dark brown eyes glittering with amusement.

“Then why so angry?”

His lips ghosted over yours, breathing in your exhale.

“I’m just a pest, right? A mere annoyance in your eventual victory.”

His lashes lowered, arrogant smirk reaching his dark eyes.

“Play your ace. Let’s see if it works,” he purred in the deep, sexy octave of his.

Shut up.

A low snarl rumbled in your chest.

“Shut up, Jeon Jungkook.”

You gripped his belt and yanked him to your body, rolling your crotch into his, your lips colliding with that maddening smirk, alcohol, dragon fruit, black coffee, flint igniting the dry wood, devouring his lips hungrily, his hands sliding up your sides, and his smile.

Triumph.

-

Shit.

-

You couldn’t give two fucks about Jeon Jungkook and he was into it.

Like the impossible enigma, he couldn’t figure you out but he was drawn to you anyway. The whole world was your plaything, and you treated it as such. There was something exciting about you, the thrill too irresistible to avoid when you made your presence known. Always you and that teasing smile, never getting serious, making everyone hesitate to take it farther with you. Who could blame them with your borderline brash attitude and ease of moving from one to the next?

That and your friendship with Kim Taehyung, who was a whole damn tiger next to your wolfish nature.

At first, Jungkook was intrigued.

As time went on, he became frustrated and annoyed.

What gave you the right to ignore him?

You picked up guys far less attractive than he was, not that he was that vain but, seriously, he was right here! Waiting to be caught. He didn’t try to interfere at first. In fact, Jungkook wasn’t even the sleep-around-and-mess-with-feelings kind of guy. But the more he watched you, the more impressed he was, seeing the way you charmed your way into everyone’s hearts, the way you focused on them for that moment, making them feel like they were the most perfect creature on Earth before slinking to the next, leaving them with a pining heart and lost in fantasies of what-ifs.

And, yeah, you were hot.

What was Jungkook going to do?

He could do nothing.

Or he could befriend Kim Taehyung, get under your skin, and make you notice him.

Not a scheme, per se.

Kind of a scheme.

Alright, definitely a scheme.

In Jungkook’s defense, your best friend Taehyung was all for it. Taehyung was the one who came up with all the ideas, informed him of your location, and the names of the girls you were after.

“Give her a taste of her own medicine. She needs a reality check.”

The problem was, Jungkook didn’t really want to let you go now that you were in his arms.

-

“Silly pretty boy.”

You had his chin in your palm, pressing your thumb against Jungkook’s lower lip, opening his hungry mouth to tease him with your tongue, tracing his soft lips and thrusting in, his low moan filling your lungs. His hands on your waist tightened, pulling you closer even through you were already in his lap, murmurs and eyes on you, but neither your nor Jungkook cared, used to this by now.

You were, after all, making out in the club.

The chair scraped against the ground as Jungkook firmly placed your thighs on either side of his, thrusting upwards into your core, letting your feel his rapidly growing hardness with every one of your kisses. Your hair feathered his cheeks and shoulders as your free hand toyed with his ponytail, twirling it in your fingers, smirking into his lips with his gasp from you grinding back down on his crotch, rolling your hips into him.

“Thought I was the bane of your existence?” Jungkook taunted under you, squeezing your ass through the silk and meeting your movements, staring into your eyes with his. So dark, so smokey, so fucking sexy, almost like looking into a mirror, because you too wore similar makeup, maybe a little darker and a little more of a flick to your eyeliner. “Just going to kiss me to shut me up?”

You wouldn’t be surprised if the other clubgoers were eagerly watching now, waiting to see what was going to happen between you and him.

“I don’t need to be on your mouth to shut you up,” you mused, tugging his ponytail back and kissing down his neck, tongue tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling him shudder under your lips and teeth, lightly nipping at his skin. Tracing circles, gentle kisses, relishing in his gasps and his tightened grip on you, letting your breath linger for that extra second, that extra what-if, kissing back up his neck and onto his jawline, murmuring his name sweetly, tip of your tongue curling around his earrings and bouncing them, sighing softly in his ear.

“Can’t claim my leftovers when my leftovers are you, now can you, naughty boy?” you chuckled darkly, pressing your breasts on his hot chest and your clothed pussy on the tip of his stiff length, rutting against it, making him hiss your name.

“I have no intention of being leftovers,” he growled into your ear.

Your eyes flew open as his lips transfixed to the space under your ear, sucking hard, forcing you to squeeze your thighs at the attack on your erogenous zone, sparks of arousal flinching through you, soaking your panties. You gasped, hips bucking into his needily, barely processing his words, his tongue flicking against your throbbing skin, lips and teeth, and then his mouth was moving, traveling up your earlobe, nipping at the curve, your eyelids fluttering, clutching his purple ponytail tightly.

How did he know? Did he ask your previous conquests to spill the information? There was no time to think, his hands traveling up your back, clenching fistfuls of your shirt and digging his nails into your back, your body responding and squirming against him, the quiet whine of his name escaping your lips and drifting right into his ear.

“J… Jungkook…”

He groaned, turning your head forcefully, him kissing you this time, just as ravenous, just as powerful, basically simulating sex in the middle of the fucking club with the way your hips were twisting into his and he was thrusting back against you, breathless, whispering in your mouth so only you could hear his words resonate in your chest.

“Fuck, you’re so hot, you turn me on so fucking easily, I just have to have you,” he murmured, his forehead pressed against yours, capturing your lips again and again. “There’s no way you’re any good for me, but I don’t care, fuck.”

You snickered, eye to eye, trapped in those expanding pupils and his heavy pants. “They say the same about you, Jeon Jungkook.”

You felt him smirk. “Nah, not me. No one calls me the spawn of Satan.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because I do.”

Jungkook’s tongue licked your lips, making your shiver in delight. “That was special treatment. Just for you.”

Hold on a second.

Through your hazy buzzed brain, you began to piece the puzzle together. With each part falling into place, the amusement in Jungkook’s eyes grew and grew, seeing you fill in the missing blanks. Your eyes widened and you curled a finger around his ponytail, yanking roughly to pull his grinning face away from yours. You jerked back, but his strong hands held you in place.

Wispy strands of violet framing that devious expression.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, venomous.

Jungkook had the audacity to cock an eyebrow.

“Yep.”

You were going to kill Taehyung. That little shit! Taehyung was no idiot, so he must have planned this somehow. He always telling you to get serious and stop messing around. That’s why Jungkook always knew who you were dating, where you were, and what you were wearing! Did Taehyung recruit Jeon Jungkook to trick you? Fuck! He was dead meat, scheming against you like this!

Jungkook brought you out of your homicidal tendencies with a soft drawl of your name.

“For the record, he was helping me out,” he murmured, pulling you to him, pressing your chest to his. You narrowed your eyes, his hard cock still throbbing against your panties. “I want you.”

He lowered his face, breathing hard.

“Not just like this.”

Your eyes widened.

“I said I’m not going to be leftovers.” Looking deep into your eyes, holding you tightly. “I’m not going to let you throw me away like the rest.” Every inhale making your body rise into his touch, his deep, silvery voice saturated with lust and determination. “I’m going to make you fall in love with me as much as I am in love with you.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but…

Jungkook gave you this look.

The look of ‘you-know-you’ve-already-lost’.

You could sit here and pretend, but you were also grinding back onto his dick right out here in the open, clutching his purple hair and his pretty face. His hard body was tucked snugly in your thighs. That smug little smirk. Shit, shit, shit.

Jeon Jungkook got you and he got you good.

He knew it too, his hands sliding down and grabbing your ass again, rolling his hips into yours.

“Come on. Let’s fuck.”

-

“Oh, fuck, yes, yes, yes!”

Jungkook threw his head back onto his pillows, exposing his straining throat, veins popping out, clutching your hips strongly to rut back against you as you smacked your crotch down onto him, riding him hard and fast, your hands next to his head, his long purple hair a mess even if it was still in the ponytail, sweat glistening on his forehead, moaning loudly with your walls closing in on his hardness. You were too busy fucking the daylights out of him to say anything, but Jungkook had plenty to say, hazy eyes opening and gasping as he viewed your body hovering over him, naked with his hickeys on your neck and breasts, strong thighs flexed on either side of him, his rock-hard cock repeatedly disappearing into your tight, wet hole.

“Fuck, I knew it, I knew you would be so fucking good and so fucking sexy,” he whined, nails digging into your hips and adding more force to your thrusts.

Your clothes and his clothes were all over his bedroom floor.

Your phone was on his nightstand.

Tonight, you sent one text to Kim Taehyung.

I’m gonna buy a bow and arrow and shoot you in the ass.

You screen flashed, indicating Taehyung had replied. One quick flick of your eyes and you smirked.

Oh shit.

Jungkook squeezed your ass, making your return your attention to him.

“Focus on me,” he begged, blown-out pupils. “Only me, please.”

“So needy,” you teased, licking your lips slowly. He groaned under you, mouth opening, his pretty pink tongue lolling out, desperate to be sucked. “If you think you can keep me, you’ll have to last longer than this, Jungkook.”

He swallowed hard at the way you said his name, a mixture of warning and desire.

“P-Please… it’s too good, I-I can’t…”

You redoubled your efforts, roughly slapping your hips into his, enjoying the loud sound and the way your core tightened, constricting him inside you, telling him he couldn’t cum until you did and deliberately holding yourself back, shifting your attention when you felt it rise, denying him over and over, until he was like this, whole body shaking, grasping your ass, sweat on his chest. His right arm, covered in tattoos, looking extra delicious in the moonlight, so fucking perfect with his forearms flexed with tension. You purposefully stared into his brown eyes overtaken with lust, his lips trembling from denying himself his own orgasm.

Jungkook whimpered your name.

On the verge of breaking, helpless at your command.

A sharp throb inside you, wildly turned on by his duality.

You smirked.

“Jungkook.”

You inhaled deeply, sighing in satisfaction with the wave of pleasure, intense shivering pulses running up and down his length, sinking down so he could feel it all, the tight and rough massage of your orgasm taking over, low moan of his name emitting from your throat, and Jungkook followed suit, louder and lewder, eyes rolling back as he shot into the condom with jerking hips, burying the twitching head deep inside you, swelling the latex with thick cum, rocking you back and forth on his length, your juices dripping down and coating the inside of your joined thighs.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck, so good, s-so fucking good…”

You know what, he was right.

It was so fucking good.

You savored it, the ecstasy that seemed endless and overwhelming, squeezing Jungkook between your thighs and moaning, just something about it, so satisfying and gratifying listening to his wheezing gasps and content whimpers, lowering yourself to his face, and he raised his, your hands sliding under his head, giving him what he wanted, light, maddening, carnal kisses, his cheeks, his chin, his quivering lips, whining your name, pleading with you to play with him more, more, tugging on his ponytail and his hands stroking your breasts, rolling your hard nipples between his index and thumb fingers, shaking at your hissing inhale.

“Hey,” you murmured, clenching him between your legs to get his attention.

Jungkook blinked at you, brown eyes unfocused, panting hard. “Y-Yeah?”

“You should apologize.”

The side of his swollen lips quirked upwards despite his fucked-out state. His deep voice was slightly hoarse. “What for? Tell me and I will.”

You raised an eyebrow. “For your scheming and using my own best friend against me.”

Jungkook smirked slyly.

“I’m sorry.”

He lifted you and made sure he had the condom before he pulled out, still semi-hard. You narrowed your eyes. He sure as hell didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look sorry either, peeling the condom off and crawling over the bed to toss it in the trash before straightening.

“Sounding insincere there,” you remarked coolly, balancing your chin on the back of your knuckles, elbow on the bed, tapping the air impatiently.

“I mean it,” he purred, reaching for the towel beside the bed and knocking the condoms from his nightstand to the sheets. His right hand wrapped around his glistening length, still covered in lube and his cum, toned hips thrusting into his closed fist, grinning with his lower lip between his teeth as you watched him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”

Slowly jacking himself off as his eyes roamed over your curves, moaning lustfully, lingering on your legs, clutching the towel in his left hand so hard his knuckles were pale, forearms flexed, the slick head of his cock turning purple-red, emerging from between his closed fingers, throbbing as it was choked by his harsh grip.

“Let me make it up to you,” Jungkook shuddered, stroking faster, making wet squelching sounds, his muscular thighs bulging with effort.

Fuck, he was so damn attractive.

You kept an indifferent look on your face, raising your leg, your free hand sliding down, tracing the outside of your already wet opening. Those hungry dark brown orbs immediately fixated on it, moaning imploringly as you dipped your fingers in it, soft squishing noises as you spread open your soaked pussy, slipping a finger in your heat, gently thrusting.

He gasped your name, begging you.

It made you wetter, seeing his want. He knew it too, brutally fisting his cock, hips quivering.

“Stop.”

Jungkook whined despairingly, pulling his hand away, his stiff cock bouncing from the swiftness of the movement, cutting off his own orgasm. He sucked in a shivering breath, tipping his hips up to you so his glossy, hard length twitched.

You shifted, laying back against his pillows, opening your legs.

Smirk on your lips.

“Mmm, fuck, yes, fuck me with that.”

Jungkook smirked back.

It took him no time at all to wipe his hand and crotch off, ripping open another condom and moaning as he rolled it down, the mere contact of the thin encasement stimulating his sensitive skin. He slid up to you, gripping your knees and spreading you even wider, pressing the tip against your drenched heat.

He whispered your name, like sweet smoke.

“Hm?”

Jungkook leaned down, kissing you deeply as he sank into you, drinking in your gasp at the fullness.

“I’m going to make you feel so, so good,” he mumbled into your lips, pecking you softly.

He was about to retreat but your hands snapped up, tangling into his messy violet waves, clutching his ponytail. Jungkook blinked at you, questioning.

“Not too far away,” you said with a playful smile. “I wanna see that handsome face of yours.”

He bit his lower lip, tiny mole and wicked grin revealing themselves.

“Okay.”

He lifted his hips and plunged fully into you, the connection of your hips making a loud, wet smack.

“Fuck, Jungkook…!”

And you could tell from his elated expression and his furious pace that he was ecstatic at your response, chasing it, chasing you, moaning as you caught him between your thighs and wrapped your legs around his waist, gaining some leverage and meeting his thrusts, fingers tightening in his soft hair, fuck, so beautiful, the way the pleasure overtook his handsome features, his hazy dark brown orbs shrouded in lust, his pink lip trembling in his teeth, sharp jaw set, but still maintaining a little bit of that cunning exterior that ensnared you in the first place, unknowingly at the time, the side of his lips ticking up, this cheeky bastard.

Jungkook saw the way you looked at him.

He adjusted the position, hitting deeper, swelling inside you, and, fuck, you couldn’t help it, you smirked too because he was so, so full of himself and so were you, insufferable, troublesome, competitive even now, the obscene smack of his crotch hitting your hips, wet and noisy, the squish of your juices smearing against his inner thighs as you wildly matched his rapid, bruising rhythm, your moans blending together, sweet hot harmony, his bedframe ramming against the wall, and, as usual, neither of you caring, far to occupied with yourselves, pleasure snaking between you, up your spine and into your head, mixing with the light buzz of alcohol, a different kind of euphoria from every other one-night stand, because this was Jeon Jungkook and he wasn’t going to be a one-night stand.

His lower lip popped out of his teeth and he gasped your name.

Longingly, breathlessly.

Was he thinking the same thing?

You lifted yourself a little, your hands molded to his head, whispering intensely against his shaking lips.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook. We have all night and the morning.”

Fuck, he had a brilliant smile.

It was actually doomed for you, but you weren’t mad about it.

Eye contact, and he didn’t waver, thrusting deep into you, low moan pulled from his chest, jolting shudders sliding down his shoulders and then in between you and him, his cock twitching and spilling into the condom again, roughly clamped by your tightness, and you were already there, falling over the edge with a soft cry, straining your neck and pushing his head down to you to collide your lips with his, greedy for his kiss, his taste, his whimpers at your forcefulness.

“Jungkook, ah…”

He said your name in the same tone, delicate and possessive, a bullseye right to the heart.

-

“On one hand, I’m glad you’re finally serious about someone.”

You paid absolutely no attention to the annoyed baritone voice of your best friend.

“On the other hand,” Kim Taehyung gritted out, smacking you in the shoulder blades as you crawled into Jeon Jungkook’s lap, kisses intensifying, a needy whine in his chest, his hands wrapping around your waist. “Really feeling like a third wheel, you two! Stop making out for one goddamn second!”

He threw up his hands as both of you pretended to be deaf.

-

interlude respect drabble — "how much did you see?" popcorn drabble — "who are they?"

part ii threesome, ft kth — got it bad

--

masterpost

[jay-tee-yorke]

Rock This Town || November 2006

the-liberty-van-zandt-blog 

Liberty grasped the cool, plastic door handle, ready to propel herself out of the car, away from her ex, and into the safety of her own bed. The sound of her name from his lips stopped the girl in her tracks, and she inwardly melted like so many times before. As satisfying as it would be to get out and slam the door in his face without a second glance, Liberty figured she at least owed it to JT to hear him out for the ride home. Anything else he said to her tonight could not possibly sting as much as the admission that he loved Mia.

Settling back into the passengers seat, Liberty glanced at JT and raised her eyebrows in encouragement to continue. At the mention of his current girlfriend’s name, she narrowed her eyes. Liberty had a flare of anger. She had honestly thought that JT had the sense to not bring Mia up in front of her again. Opening her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, she shut it quickly when she noticed he looked momentarily ill. Sitting in silence, nothing could have prepared the girl for what he said to her next.

Liberty inhaled sharply, stunned by JT’s confession. As long as she had known the goofy, attractive boy, all she had ever wanted was for him to love her. For years, she had thought her feelings were going to be unrequited forever. When they had actually been returned; she’d been beyond thrilled. As far as Liberty was concerned, their relationship had been near-perfect, up until she had gotten pregnant. She had broken things off with JT this last time, but in no way had she moved on from him. And now, apparently, neither had he. Liberty scrutinized JT’s face; she could usually tell when he was lying, even if others couldn’t. He seemed to be genuinely telling her the truth. Mia technically was his girlfriend, but he loved her; he had never stopped. This sudden realization gave her an overwhelming urge to kiss him.

As soon as she started to lean forward, Liberty realized it was a bad idea. She knew no matter the outcome of their conversation, JT was going to break up with Mia; he was too decent of a guy to continue to date her while having feelings for Liberty. Still, Mia did not deserve to be cheated on, even if Liberty was not her biggest fan. There was a chance the two girls would actually be friends, if JT were not in the picture. Covering for her mistake, she nestled her head in his shoulder and slipped an arm around his neck. She stayed there for a moment, savoring the moment of being this close to him again, after so long.

Pulling away, she looked at him with shining hazel eyes. “I’ve always loved you JT.” she murmured softly. “But you know that.”

She leaned forward and JT felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest. Yes, he wanted to kiss her - he wanted to kiss her really bad - but there was something much like a voice of reason that was holding him back. He had already done enough to break Mia’s heart today, and she didn’t deserve for their relationship to end because he had cheated. But still, it was difficult to resist. Liberty looked breathtaking and the sweetness of her perfume had him feeling kind of light-headed. He was having a cold shower the second he got home, no questions asked.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief as Liberty settled into the crook of his neck, her arms around him for the first time in what had felt like forever. How long had it been, a year? More than that? JT lowered his chin onto her shoulder and felt transported to a happier time, before they were throw into the whirlwind of unexpected parenthood, and all that mattered was their love, the success of their Dracula play, and the ability to skirt around Mr Van Zandt to get into the hot tub. A moment of silence passed where they held each other, the only sound being the rustling of trees outside. The urine stench still managed to creep into the window, now that they were stationary. Ugh.

“I do know that,” JT replied in the same murmur before his lips formed a teasing smirk, “I got an inkling when you made that powerpoint presentation about me. How did you even get my kiddie photos?” A soft laugh followed, then for a few seconds, his gaze lingered on Liberty’s eyes, the softest shade of brown infused with green. Behind her shone the porch light of her house. He could picture Liberty’s dad pacing in the hallway anxiously, wondering why JT’s car of all cars had to be stalled on the side of the road.

“I’d walk you to the door but, yknow...” Something told him that he was still technically banned from the house, although it hadn’t really stopped him on many, many occasions. But it was very clear that Liberty’s parents were home, and there was no way that JT was looking for a fight, or anything that could remotely tarnish the wonder of this moment. He would deal with the Van Zandts’ disapproval another time.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he added with a shrug. “And speaking of bridges, I’m gonna have to figure out how to burn the one with Mia. I’ll figure something out, I guess. Monday, at school. I’ll let her down gently, and then you and I can ... yeah.” He was nervous, but he wasn’t going to admit it. He’d never had to sit someone down and tell them that he didn’t love them. He imagined it would feel as painful as it sounded. It was going to be hard, and he knew that Mia would never speak to him again after that. He would certainly never see Isabella again.

“Before you go,” JT said as he reached for Liberty’s hand, “Happy Birthday. I know this wasn’t the party that either of us were expecting, but I hope it was still good.” 

[weveneverbeenalone]

First Hand Accounts of “Alien Bathrooms”

The following  accounts are from people who have been abducted or taken by what they perceive as ETs or non human entities, during which time they had to use an “alien bathroom.” They are presented in no particular order. When possible, we have designated the type of ET that was present during the alien bathroom encounter.

“One bathroom I was in looked more like an area for showering. The lighting was dim, but along the entire wall, I could see unusual wall units. They were an opalescent peach color and were built form-fitted in a contiguous design, appearing as one long row of showers. The walls appeared wavy in such a manner that each section was its own stall with the sides coming out several inches, but not as far as a wall like we have in our showers. It was the most modern appearing shower system I had ever seen. I used one of these showers as did a man who was there. I have no idea who he was. I saw an area higher up where water came out, but I’m not certain water was actually dispensed. It could have been a form of energy that came out and cleaned the user. There was a device one pushed in the center, but the controls were a bit vague. I think they were motion activated or activated by the individual’s body temperature.” (2016)

“I went inside a large bathroom that was quite large and it was very clean and modern looking. It had various square and rectangular layers on the floor. There were drains, but no areas to sit on, such as an actual toilet seat. It appeared they were to be used while standing and there was very little privacy. I actually left this room to look for a more private toilet, but there was no privacy to be found on this ship. In the end, I used one of the large square areas that had a higher rise on it since I could sit on it, even though it was still very near to the ground and difficult to use properly.” (2017)

Blonde Hybrid

“I was with a blond alien hybrid in a communal bathroom. I had planned to use the toilet, but it was a ‘typical alien bathroom.’ It was one large room with a lot of toilets and the walls weren’t tall enough to ensure privacy, so anyone could look at you if they wanted. So, as I sat on a toilet, the blond hybrid walked by and sort of laughed. I giggled from embarrassment. I should be so used to people seeing me on the toilet in these alien situations, but I guess I’m still a little embarrassed. Oh! And, then to find out the wall wasn’t really there after all! The wall was only an illusion in order to make me feel ‘okay’ about using the toilet.” (1994)

Unknown ETs

“I had to use the bathroom and there were all of these women around.... it’s always the same, except sometimes there are men and women sharing the same communal bathroom. I managed to find a semi private toilet... these situations are always humiliating.” (1999)

ETs with Elongated Paracas Type Heads

“I remember seeing a very tan female but her skin looked like chocolate or something not of this world. Her hair was an intense blond color with darker stripes in it. She also had intense strange eyes. She was near a 7-foot tall alien who was very thin with a very tall head or skull. The skull was narrow and covered with dark skin. There was a distinct bathroom scene from this night. There was a shower with feces on the floor. It was a communal bathroom with three women in it. I told them, ‘Well, I guess this means we’re all abductees…’ and one of the women nodded and sighed, ‘yeah…’ ” (2006)

Cavern or Underground Facility

“I was told about an energy field that they led me to believe they didn’t know much about. I reached out my right hand to an area in the cavern and immediately felt the energy field. I told whoever was there, ‘Here it is. I can feel it.’ I then showed them the path. I went back and forth and walked around until I found where it began, inside the cavern, but it seemed to be in the middle of the area. There weren’t any devices or rocks that I could see. It was in the middle of an area in an open space – like midway up from the ground at about waist high for me.

I then followed the energy and traced it to my left across some distance into some water. There was a lot of water here – like water underground, but I still saw the red rock and dirt.

I think the next thing I saw was a tiny triangular area made out of wood that was supposed to be a toilet. Then the next thing I know, I’m in a small room using a toilet. There is a half-wall next to me and there’s a lot of toilet paper around the toilet. There are also a pair of child’s panties lying on the ground with what looks like urine saturated in them.

I used the bathroom and looked to my right and saw two young people watching me. They weren’t normal. They were like children, but they were not children. I have been through this before and decided to keep urinating, since I had to go so badly. I looked at them and said sarcastically and rather tiredly, ‘I just love using the bathroom with people watching me.’ They do this a lot, and I’m tired of it.” (2007)

ET Not Given

“I also remembered having to use a strange bathroom that probably wasn’t a bathroom at all. These strange, dirty and broken bathrooms – it’s all we have to use. I’m beginning to suspect these are probably not really all bathrooms.” (2008)

Hybrid Encounter

“I was in a somewhat sterile looking place. I saw a hallway with nothing in it, but I was being led or directed into a room by two hybrid looking entities; diminutive looking with black eyes. Eyes smaller than the grays. I saw what I thought was a bathroom and the light in this area was brighter as if they wanted me to go in there. I went inside and it seemed different. I saw white and silver metallic like things making me think it was a bathroom, but there wasn’t a toilet.” (2009)

Underground Facility Under or Near the U.K.

“I was there because I had to use the bathroom and I was told this was where I was supposed to use it. At the end of the room was a rectangular shaped object with all sorts of tubes connected to it. Tubes and equipment made up most of this apparatus.

I saw a young woman with white hair and she stood up and approached me. I could see through parts of the device and it almost appeared to be a medical device. I was then shown what I was supposed to use as a toilet. It was a medium high white bin. I didn’t feel comfortable about this prospect, especially the part about having to use the bathroom in front of this girl.

I took the bin away from her area to the opposite side of the room so I could have some privacy and noticed that it smelled terrible. Someone else had used it prior to me and the feces were still inside. They looked unusual. They were a white, pale-green color. I thought that either the person who used it prior was sick, or these were not human feces. I managed to use the bathroom even though this young woman kept communicating with me and I felt exceptionally uncomfortable. She was very nice and was excited to be communicating with me, but I was humiliated and I was glad when it was finally done.

Afterward, she instructed me to take a box shaped container and pour a bit of its contents into the bin. It was a white crystalline powder and it appeared to do its work instantly. I think this may have been why the feces I saw in the can when I originally picked it up were the white, pale green color. I believe the crystalline powder substance is absorbed by the waste material and helps to processes the waste. It was still there but it was a different color.

The rectangular device with the tubes was what processed the waste once it was transferred from the bin to the device. This complicated contraption actually processed the waste. This set up looked quite medical and scientific in appearance and certainly unlike anything I have ever seen humans use on the surface. I also did not see anything else in the room except for this device, the bin and the young woman, however, all around me was a vast underground base with all sorts of activity occurring.” (2009)

Short Chubby Brown ETs

“I was in a room with a woman who had blonde hair. She looked human and was very sick and she was using the bathroom. There were no toilets in this place and this young woman was squatting over something white that was on the floor. Whatever the aliens forced her to drink was causing her to lose her bowels. She had profuse diarrhea with blood in it and she appeared to be in a lot of pain. The place we were in was filthy with feces and blood on the walls and floors. I’ve never seen anything like it. The room looked like a cluttered closet and I thought I saw a toilet but it didn’t work any longer. It was like everything was old and run down and they didn’t know how to repair it.” (2007)

ET Not Remembered

“I saw some other people last night; several women. I remember that one was elderly and was wearing a yellow cotton bathrobe and she looked totally out of it, like a zombie. Another lady who was heavy set was there too, as well as a few others. We were all together in one of their ‘communal’ type bathrooms. It was degrading as usual. I’ve been shaking for the past two days. It must have something to do with either the travel aspect of it or their experiments. I can’t remember much, only that I feel weak from whatever they did to us.” (2010)

ET Type Not Remembered

“I walked into the bathroom and it reminded me of a bathroom on an airplane, only larger. There was a stainless sink, toilet and a panel to the left of the toilet. Someone had urinated in the toilet and didn’t flush, so I bent down to flush it before I used it. So – I went to the bathroom knowing that at anytime, someone could walk in on me, but I didn’t care. I just went, flushed the toilet and I guess I left after that. I don’t know why I’d see an airplane toilet since I haven’t flown on a plane in 20 years.” (2004)

Male Experiencer

“There was a bathroom with an actual shower that had a three way sliding system to turn on the water and it looked like a self contained unit. After I turned on the device, I don’t remember anything except drying off. It was then I noticed I was actually in a very large room with glass walls.” (2012)

Dark Skin, Possible Time Travelers

“The four dark haired time-traveling Russians were there sitting at a table and they watched me make certain observations. They appeared human, but I suppose they could have been hybrids. Whatever they were, I felt that they could travel through time. I recognized them from 30 years prior and these men did not appear old – they appeared to be in their 40’s. Then, as usual, I had to find a bathroom. When I did, I entered the room and it was a very long narrow hallway. At the end was a sink and the walls were so narrow I could barely turn around. This was my last memory.” (2014)

ETs Not Remembered

“I did have to use the loo whilst there and it was of typical ET construct; somewhat large and square with two doors on either side that bolted from the outside so one has no privacy whilst inside. They control these rooms in this fashion – it’s always the case. This one had a square sink like object that someone had used as a toilet as it was full of white tissue saturated with urine and it also had feces on it. Attached to that and on the floor was a larger ‘toilet’ area that was raised about 6 to 8 inches above the ground that had a raised area, and this was also a toilet. I decided to use that since it was cleaner.” (2015)

[noplceinheaven]

HERE 70 + uuUh lets do 47 . i almost forgot to mention that sihp is halvie

47. Not a Date + 70. Locked in a Room

Alvie insists for a good thirty minutes to go out for coffee. House says that he's tired of hearing him ask again and again, but in reality, he'd love to get some coffee. Alvie probably knows this, but he doesn't say anything.

The walk to the coffee shop is quiet, and Alvie keeps doing what he always does. He shifts and fiddles with his hands, incessantly fidgeting and humming and mumbling under his breath. House watches him from the corner of his eye until he gets to the café, opening the door and letting Alvie walk in.

"When did you put your binder on?" House asks.

Alvie tilts his head as he settles into one of the chairs. "What, you're worried about my wellbeing?"

"Yes, because I'm not gonna help you pay for fixing your ribs if you break 'em," he grumbles, taking a long sip of his coffee.

Alvie tips his head back and laughs - it's a pretty sound. "I put it on right before we got out of your apartment, House, don't worry."

"I'm not worrying," House replies curtly. Alvie grins amusedly and bites into his muffin. Alvie gives a starstruck glance to House, almost loving, before going back to his coffee and his muffin. 

They make small talk; it's quiet and boring and it feels all too much like a date. But House doesn't even think about asking Alvie if he'd consider this a date - hell, he'd be doomed before he even says that.

Alvie does, of course. He's got no filter. "So is this a date?"

House pauses for just a second before saying, "No it's not."

"You hesitated." Alvie is smiling smugly and victoriously like he just won at Monopoly after three hours of tedious playing.

"I did not," House says, finishing his coffee and looking at Alvie with his brows knitted together.

"You hesitated!" Alvie insists.

House groans out, annoyed, "God, you're a child."

"Twenty-one years," Alvie says. "Of course I seem like a child to you."

He blinks. "What?"

"Twenty-one years," he repeats with a little too much glee, "between you and I, doctor Greg House."

He squints a little before saying, "Why do you have the number at hand?"

Alvie nearly chokes on his muffin, and his face goes pink. "Well, I -"

He interrupts, "Got a thing for older men?"

"House." It borders on a whine. 

"I mean, you're obviously into men in general," he continues, his lips upturning into a smug smile.

"That's very much a fact, yes," Alvie nods, looking down at his muffin. 

They stay silent for a few minutes, and when Alvie finishes his coffee and his muffin he gets up and heads to the bathroom. There are a few stalls and three urinals. House follows suit.

Alvie closes the door of the stall behind him when he hears the slam of a door and the flicker of lights. His eyes snap open and he does his business quickly enough, getting up and opening the door.

House's got his hands in his pockets and he's looking at the door. "It slammed closed and it's locked from outside," he informs Alvie.

Alvie nods and hums a little, progressively getting louder. He skips with his foot, making noise and snapping his fingers. House looks back at him, and their eyes lock. Alvie flushes pink and looks down.

"Why haven't you knocked to get the staff's attention yet?" Alvie says, leaning against the wall and stretching a little. His binder is visible when his shirt rolls up; he's got it tucked into his jeans.

House doesn't reply. His eyes search the room, and he's looking for something. Alvie starts humming again.

"God, can't you keep quiet?"

Alvie feels like doing something out of a cheesy romance movie at a coffee shop bathroom, so he says, "Make me."

House is about to retort, probably something spiked with sarcasm, when the door to the men's bathroom opens, a staff member apologizing profusely. House dismisses her with his hand, grabs Alvie by his arm and drags him out of the bathroom.

"Make me," House echoes, making his voice a little higher to imitate Alvie's.

"I said that."

"Yes, you did." House shifts his weight on his feet, and his gaze is intense. Like when he's working on a difficult patient, a difficult case. "Guess you're into older men after all."

Alvie doesn't protest the accusation this time, because House puts a hand on his chin and runs his thumb over Alvie's bottom lip. His lips part, and he looks up at House almost pleadingly.

"Guess this was a date after all," Alvie tries to shoot back.

House huffs and their lips meet crudely. It's less rough and unkind than how Alvie pictured his first kiss with the older man (if he had the optimism to think he'd kiss him ever). House cups his cheek with his hand and leans impossibly closer, a hand on the small of Alvie's back.

When Alvie pulls away, he's breathing hard, eyes wide and lips parted, his face red.

He's quiet for once. House smirks and pulls Alvie out of the coffee shop.

[skgway]

1823 July, Fri. 25

6 3/4

11 1/2

In the stable speaking to Charles Howarth and his son about fixing the halters in the stalls, and in the cowhouse talking to James Smith about the hay etc. above 1/2 hour –

Friday 8 1/2 to 10 10/60, wrote 3 pages and the ends (but not very close) to  M– [Mariana] I wrote with ease and quickly, and what I wrote satisfied me – she said I had “exaggerated” her feelings – I observed

“I was not aware of this: but, at all events, whatever I might do as to your feelings, I did not exaggerate my own……. I found no fault with the quickness of your feelings, it is merely with the easiness of your conviction, that with respect to my prudence, anyone’s judgement, – Anyone’s representation, is more faithful than my own –

I could enlarge on this point, and very much more to my own advantage than perhaps you suppose: but I respect even your prejudices; and to prevent argument between us when distance or other circumstances preclude those ‘grateful digressions’ which should always accompany agreement in a case like ours, I have often, – I have often, Mary, allowed the imputation I did not quite deserve, and owned the folly I did not quite commit ….. 

If however truth cannot be exactly weighed, you had better throw the balance in my favour, then against me – Would not this be prudence on your part?” ...... 

I wonder what she will write in answer. She will begin to think I don't like these jobations. She has certainly sung rather smaller in last letter than she did before, but poor soul, I do not wonder much at her ‘deep mortification’ which I should call strongly tinctured with jealousy nevertheless? –

Down to breakfast at 10 1/4 came up again at 11 – Copied the whole of my letter to π [Mariana] – My aunt meant to have walked to H–x [Halifax] and put into the post (between 12 and 1) my letter to M– [Mariana] (Lawton hall) but my father called and took it – 

Letter this morning from I[sabella] N[orcliffe] (Langton) –  “quite uneasy to hear of the accident which has happened you” etc. etc. begging me to write in a day or 2 – I told Mrs. N– [Norcliffe] I had sprained my back a little – Mrs. N– [Norcliffe] must have told I[sabella] N[orcliffe] this, but there is not a word of my asking for half a bed. Mr. N[orcliffe] cannot have named it – Mrs. N– [Norcliffe] has recovered from the rheumatism – “on Monday last, we received a letter from Mrs. Robinson, informing us of the death of the Duke of Roxburghe” – Norcliffe at Berne –

I[sabella] N[orcliffe] had just had a letter from Miss Vallance giving an account of her brother William’s marriage on the 14th instant – I am to write to Mrs. James Dalton in the same kind of style I do to Mrs. N– [Norcliffe] “as she” Mrs. James D– [Dalton] “told me she sometimes thought the letters rather obscure, and difficult to understand” –

At 12 1/2 sat down to answer this letter of I[sabella] N[orcliffe]’s, and, in a couple of hours, had written 3 pages the ends, and crossed 1/2 the 1st page – Said “I am now recovered from the little penance it was thought expedient for me to do”.... and afterwards added “I am growing fat after bleeding and blistering; and you would now think me looking uncommonly well” –

Thanked her, promising never to mention it, for the hint as to the obscurity of my style – An easy play upon this subject fills the whole of my 2nd and 1/2 my 3rd page – Nothing else very particular –

On the last end of my paper 

“Pray when do you mean to come here? – Doubtless, Langton is looking, and being, very beautiful: but the days are coming when ‘the Autumn winds rushing waft the leaves that are dearest,’ when the beauties of summer shall be gone, and nature slumber till the spring return – But enough”..... 

and this is all of the invitation kind, all the hint given about her coming –

About 3 begin a letter to Bell Dalton (both she & Marianne at Langton) and at 5 had written 3 pages the ends, and crossed the 1st page – Nothing very particular – Affectionate thanks for her letter excuse myself for not having written –

“In truth, Bell, I have sometimes no leisure, and sometimes no resolution to wield that mighty feather that edits thoughts to friends when far away – A life like mine furnishes few materials for a letter worth postage; and time from my imagination’s wing ‘has brush’d its brightest hues away’ –

But as yet, it is too soon for you to comprehend a truth like this – With you it is life’s morning; it is the season of youth, that fitful, yet delightful dream from which the voice of years must rouse us”...... 

speaking of Esther, 

“I should indeed like to see her and you all; and, when you have known me longer and better, you will never cease to believe this, till I have furnished you with some more substantial agreement against it than letter-writing idleness –

I am indeed, to the very utmost I have ever given you reason I suppose, your very friend, affectionately sincere, the same today, tomorrow, and for aye – Not ‘fickle as the summer’s wind’ – Light, changeful flutterings not play round hearts like mine”.......

From 5 10/60 to 6 wrote all the last page – In the evening read, in the European magazine for last month, an additional memoir on the life of Napoleon – The 10th satire of Juvenal mentioned as the most beautiful – A quotation from Dr. Johnson’s fine paraphrase –

The fall of Napoleon attended by peculiar treacheries – So was the rise of the cæsars, see an admirable satire of Horace – Napoleon preferred Corneille to all dramatists – if he had lived in his time he would have made him a prince – Madame de Stael, rather too tender to Napoleon – One day, to get quit of her visit, he sent to say he was not quite dressed – She replied, it mattered not “genius is of no sex” –

From 8 to 9, wrote out the rough draft of the index of the last 4 days – Damp or rather soft, sunless, droughtless day – It began to rain about 5 3/4, and turned out a very wet evening – Barometer 3 degrees below changeable Fahrenheit 55 1/2 at 9 p.m. – E [three dots, treating venereal complaint] O [two dots, signifying middling discharge] Several drops, deepish coloured urine. Thick. In fact I am no better at all.

Came upstairs at 10 55/60 –

[senior70]

Married to a lady who was pee’d upon by a .....

I suspect that I date myself by recalling going to parties at which everyone enjoyed playing games, not board games, but games involving all the guests. A favourite was Charades, in which one person silently acts out a word or phrase for others to guess, perhaps divided into teams and in competition for points.  Another, often used as a ‘ice breaker', involved walking around asking questions of others in turn, the typical question phrased as “Have you ever….” or “What did you ….”. 

All these years later I rather wish that I could have been asked the question “What moment or incident do you remember that you are proud of.” I believe I have an answer to that question which is possibly unique, or certainly very rare. My answer would be “I am proud to be married to a lady who was once pee’d upon by a rattlesnake.”

Now that I have your attention, allow me to elucidate. 

I was granted a six month sabbatical leave to write papers on my research as of January 1st, 1991. In awful winter weather, leaving our university aged kids to fend for themselves, we drove to Austin, Texas, where Jenny had gained a place in a four month Chaplaincy Internship program at the huge Breckenridge Hospital. I, in turn, had written to the University of Texas at Austin, to seek permission to be on campus and use the libraries. I did not require an office, but was delighted to receive a letter enclosing a credit-size card titled “Visiting Scholar" and an invitation to hang my coat in the Department of Geology (Geomorphology is considered Geology not Geography in the US) and give a visiting lecture about my research.

We rented an apartment, rented some basic furniture, signed out several pieces of art from the Austen Library, and set up home. Jenny’s schedule at the hospital was a very full one and took priority, so some days I worked in the apartment, and some days I spent on campus. I discovered that my card was a ‘magic’ card that permitted me use of any campus library (there were eight or more of them) and full use of the Student Union cafeteria and other facilities.

We both worked hard at our separate objectives, though Jenny had by far the more rigorous experience, quickly finding herself plunged into sometimes heartbreaking work in paediatric emergency.

We made good use of what spare time we had exploring the area on day trips and using an occasional week-end to venture further afield. One day we saw a poster for the a Rattle Snake Festival, not the well known one in Sweetwater, but one in Round Top, a smaller town east of Austin. 

The main attraction was a competition held within a glass lined “boxing ring” in the central stadium. Brave, or just plain crazy, cowboys entered the ring in competing pairs or singly in timed competition. All mind boggling.

One involved the competitors, each with an assistant, first standing with outstretched arms. The assistant picked up rattle snakes from a box and hung their tail ends between the outstretched fingers until each competitor was holding four snakes in each hand. 

The task is made more difficult by the fact that the snakes all attempt to climb up their own length to bite the hands holding them and the assistant has to keep swatting them down with stick. At the moment the two competitors are fully loaded, the referee signalled and each cowboy started to turn 360’s, the assistants still swatting madly. The winner was the competitor who turned most times before dropping the snakes.

In another competition a single competitor got into a sleeping bag and was zipped in after the foot of the bag was filled with snakes. A coiled rattle snake was then placed on the chest area with a cowboy hat over it, only inches from the cowboy’s exposed face. At a signal from the referee the clock was started. The competitor had to inch himself backwards, very carefully without disturbing the snake. When absolutely ready and with an arm out, the cowboy, with very sudden movements, lifted the hat as he swept the snake off his chest.  The competitor leaped up and the clock stopped the moment he was fully free of the bag.  

There were no female competitors, which we noticed, coming from Canada. That possibly said something about Texas in 1991, but we were not about to enquire. Most Texans are armed.

After the show we wandered around the stalls, marvelling at the ‘leather work’ using rattlesnake skins to make beautifully worked items. But, one really has to be dressed as a cowboy to wear such things. One stall we found sold barbecued rattlesnake. There is, in fact, very little meat in a rattlesnake steak. It is a matter of picking small strands of meat off, rather than finding chunks. One obvious question is “What does it taste of?”  The rather lame answer is “a bit like very stringy chicken.”

Behind the arena was the area where many of the rattlesnakes from the show were housed.  In front of one collection of aquarium-like containers, a cowboy was showing off some of his prized rattlesnakes to a couple of male onlookers, so we joined them.  Now, Texan men are used to people, particularly women, thinking that snakes are slimy and can seldom be persuaded to touch snakes. So, imagine the cowboy’s surprise when Jenny asked in her (to Texans) very English voice “May I hold one? “  Hardly believing the request, the cowboy scooped up a large rattlesnake and handed it out towards her, firmly holding it behind the head as he did so. Jenny promptly stepped up and took the weight, holding the middle and the tail end of the snake with her hands held wide apart. She promptly declared how beautifully silky smooth it felt, getting looks of disbelief from the other onlookers.  Realizing that this woman was different, the cowboy let Jenny take the full weight of the snake, though still firmly holding the ‘business’ end so that the snake could not bite.

And it was a few moments later that Jenny felt some warm, rather viscous liquid running slowly into the hand that was holding the snake just forward of the rattle. The rattlesnake had pee’d into her hand. 

Now, for the uninitiated, rattlesnakes pee infrequently. Much depends upon how often they feed, it taking many days, sometimes, before excretion takes place. Also, though using the term “pee”, a rattlesnake excretes from a single cloaca, the pee usually being a mixture of faeces, urine, mucus and undigested solids such as bone fragments.  If obtaining a meal once a week, the rattlesnake will pee once a week.

The other detail, which you didn’t want to know but must, is that rattlesnake pee is a concentrate, the reptile in its home environment conserving water as much as possible. In consequence, rattlesnake pee has a very strong odour. 

As the rather viscous liquid ran into Jenny’s hand, she gingerly returned the tail end of the snake to its owner and attempted to clean her hand with a tissue. But, even after washing with hot water and soap, the smell lingered. Indeed, it lingered for many hours as a reminder of this unusual experience.

So that is why I feel that I can claim to be one of very few men whose wife has been pee’d upon by a rattlesnake.  Yet, even when this party ice breaker was in vogue, that particular question was never asked. 

“No, I have never been jailed. No, I have never been arrested and charged (well, I have twice been transported to a police station in a police vehicle, one time still wearing a dripping wet suit, and in the same week too …..  but that is another story) but, do listen please, my wife was once pee’d on by a rattlesnake.”

senior70

Oct 2020 111

[juniperhillpatient]

Summary: Nancy and Mike actually interact are there for each other in the difficult times between seasons 1 and 2 - trigger warning for mentions of parental neglect (I really hate Ted and Karen) 

*********

"Mike, what were you thinking?"

Nancy glanced up from her chemistry homework, and down the hall. Karen Wheeler was almost in tears, and Mike was sitting on the couch with a rather dull expression.

Nancy went back to focusing on the periodic table on the page before her, pretending to ignore her mother's near mental breakdown over the horrific crime written in black sharpie on the plastic of a urine-stained bathroom stall. She was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to enjoy the thud of rain against the roof and ignore her parent's lecture in the next room which was now going on ten minutes. She glanced at the clock over the stove. Eleven minutes. Nancy sighed, slamming her textbook shut and gathering her things before heading up the stairs in a huff.

Of course, no one even glanced at her as she passed.

She hurried to her room, slamming the door behind her. She doubted anyone heard. Tossing her homework on the desk in a pile she fell onto her bed and let the tears come. She buried her face in her pillow and stuffed the cotton of the pillowcase in her mouth to silence a sob.

A few moments later she heard footsteps heading upstairs and past her room. She sat up, wiping her eyes. If she was feeling so desperately alone and ignored, how must he be feeling?

She thought back to telling the police officers about Barb being missing and how all they had been interested in was what exactly she had been doing in the room alone with Steve anyway as if that were somehow the most important part of the story. This was a little like that, wasn't it? Eleven was missing and Will was suffering and Mike didn't have any adults to help him deal with any of this and what did they choose to focus on? The smear of a marker on a wall, as if that mattered in the scheme of things.

Grown-ups, Nancy thought, rarely know what the right things to focus on, the important things, really are. Of course, she was almost a grown up though, wasn't she? She shivered, but not because of the cool draft.  

Nancy had only met Eleven once, and only in a brief moment, but Mike's connection with the strange little girl had been obvious. Despite knowing her for only a week, Nancy had an odd notion that Mike had been as close to Eleven as she had to Barb.

And our parents could care less about either loss, she thought. She told herself that wasn't fair. They didn't know about Eleven and Mike's friendship, about Mike watching Eleven disappear. They didn't know about her search for Barb or her fight to the death with a monster from another world. How could they be expected to sympathize with things they had no idea about?

"Well they could at least try," she muttered aloud.

She climbed out of bed and peeked out of her room, hoping to avoid any contact with her parents. She didn't want to talk to them. She rarely wanted to talk to them though, and maybe, a tiny, obnoxious voice in her head told her, that was part of the problem.

She walked down the hall to Mike's door, which was closed. She knocked. No answer. She knocked again.

"God I said I was sorry," Mike said. "What else do you want?" His voice cracked, so he was crying. Nancy considered walking away and leaving him alone.

How often had she sat in her own room, alone, crying her eyes out as terrifying images of the monster almost killing her and Steve and Jonathan flashed before her eyes? As horrible fantasies which she couldn't control played out about just how gruesome Barb's death might have been? No. Crying alone was rarely desirable. She knocked again.

"Mike, it's just me," she said.

"Can't you leave me alone," Mike asked, sounding tired.

"No," she said. "I'm going to keep knocking and annoying you until you open the door."

She began knocking in a pattern: Three, pause, one, pause another one. Obnoxious. Repetitive. She only had to repeat the pattern three times before he opened the door. She gave him a small smile which he did not return before following him into the room. He flopped down on his bed and she sat cross-legged on the floor, picking up and looking at his dinosaur. She smiled, remembering its name. Roary. Because it roared. Oh sweet, innocent Mike. He was playing with his Atari now, but he looked zoned out like he wasn't really paying attention. She thought that maybe he wasn't so innocent anymore.

"So...What'd you write?" she asked.

"Huh?" he asked.

"On the bathroom stall. What'd you write?"

"Nothing," he said, but now she noticed that his face was a little flushed.

"Oh c'mon," she said. "I'm just going to ask Steve to look in the stalls and tell me if you don't. It can't be too embarrassing if you wrote it there for everyone to see."

"It's not...embarassing," Mike said. "It's...Mean." Mike put down his Atari and looked at her and now he was smiling a little.

"Now I have to know," Nancy said.

Mike paused overdramatically. "I wrote Troy Wich sucks dick, okay. Happy?"

Nancy laughed. Troy Wich was, for lack of a better word, a complete and utter asshole. She wasn't a fan of calling little children assholes but if any kid fit the bill it had to be the homophobic, violent, and idiotic Troy Wich. Before she had entered ninth grade, when she and Mike both went to school in the same building, Nancy had many times shoved Troy into lockers, kicked him in the crotch, and on one occasion which she was very proud of, shoved him into the dumpster behind the school. Back then she had told herself she was just helping Mike, Will, and Lucas avoid the humiliation Troy attempted to bestow on them almost daily, but now she wasn't so sure. Maybe she had always sort of had a thing for exacting justice.

It had been around Mike's fourth-grade year, the same time Dustin entered the group when she had to move to the high school building. Maybe that was why Dustin hero-worshipped her so much - she could only imagine (and maybe secretly hope a little) that the other boys had warped her stories of big sister protectiveness into something like a knight in shining armor or whatever nerd stuff they talked about in their long nerdy game sessions.

Of course, she had also once been a little closer to her little brother, and maybe a little more fun to be around for both him and his friends, hadn't she? Her laughter faded.

"Mike," she said, looking at him carefully. "As funny as that would be I thought we agreed no more lies."

"I'm not lying," Mike insisted.

"Alright," Nancy said. "So when Steve looks tomorrow at school-"

"Fine," he interrupted. "Fine, okay I wrote a number. I wrote the number eleven. Happy?"

Nancy frowned. "Not really," she admitted. "What good did you think that was going to do, Mike? What could that have accomplished? Other than getting you in trouble?"

"I don't know," he said, and he wouldn't look at her. "What good does having dinner with the Hollands once a week do you?"

Nancy didn't have an answer to that. She just sighed and shook her head. The rain was pounding heavily outside, and it was cold in the Wheeler house. Nancy pulled her sweater tightly around herself. She leaned against Mike's bed.

"Think it'll ever get easier?" she asked in a soft voice.

At first, she wasn't sure if he could hear her over the rain.

"You're the older sibling, shouldn't I be asking you that?"

Nancy laughed humorlessly. "Yeah," she said. "I guess so."

They sat in silence for a bit after that, and it definitely didn't feel easy, but Nancy couldn't help but think it felt a little easier than when she was alone, and she wondered if Mike felt that way too.

********* A/N: I’m tagging some people but don’t feel any pressure to read if you don’t feel like it - and let me know if you don’t want to be tagged in stuff - I’ll understand! I tried to tag anyone who either asked to be tagged in this or my other stuff or who liked some of the posts I made about how we needed more Nancy x Mike interactions! 

@hair-fiber @womanaction @willbylers @nooowestayandgetcaught @sarcasm-and-spice @sweet-but-mostly-sour @0firebrand0 

[eytanbayme]

TFF #4: The Best Cash

The new bill was something special. It would ban women from having sex before he met with them, approved of their partners and personally inspected their pussies. It was great for so many reasons. First and foremost, he was very good at choosing sexual partners for women. He had chosen partners for all his favourite children and for his three wives; and all of them were great choices. Second and foremost, the sex systems in place were just not working. Too many women made poor decisions about the men they had sex with, leaving the regular guy American to pick up the check. For instance, when a woman had sex with a criminal, the guy would continue his criminal behavior because he’d figure he must be doing something right if he was getting laid. It was entirely irresponsible for women to be giving sex to thieves and terrorists. Something had to change. Had any man, in all of history, ever been asked if he wanted to have sex? No. It always came down to how the woman felt about it and that had created the disaster they were in. But now, finally, the power would be taken back and placed in his responsible, intelligent and large hands. It would mean the end of STDs, because he’d spot them on the pussies and forbid them from having sex. It would end all rape because he wouldn't approve of sex with a rapist. And the whole abortion issue would become moot because he wouldn't okay sex with a guy who refused to wear protection. It was called the Pussy Order because he knew that lots of men found it difficult to say pussy front of women. That they were embarrassed by the way it made them purse their lips in a feminine way. That the only way lots of men could say it was very quickly or quietly, or while coughing and looking at their feet. It had even been a problem for him . In bed he’d say “Take out your pu—‘ without being able to finish the word. He’d found that it helped to have other men in the room — men who would nod along and clap his shoulder at how masterfully he could conduct sex. But that wasn't always practical and when he was alone with her, he felt naked saying anything at all— like a kid who'd watched lots of pornography, but didn’t know anything about real women— even vagina made him want to whimper on the bathroom floor and long for the soothing touch of his dead mother. One time he got so frustrated with his bedroom vocabulary that he put his hand in front of his wife’s face and shouted, “Just give me your snatch!” To which she responded by letting him fuck her, but with even less enthusiasm than usual. Anyway, by using pussy in the wording of the law, no man would ever again feel ashamed to say it in front of a woman.

Sure, there were haters who weren't behind the law, calling it an overreach, calling it misogynistical and even, in a few ridiculous cases, calling it widespread, state-sanctioned rape. But how could looking at pussies be rape? He had nothing but love for them. A few people rehashed the whole ‘grab em by the p-word,’ thing, but what no one ever got about that remark was that he had said it out of a sense of respect, that pussy was something he wanted to behold. Did they know how much stuff there was out there he didn’t want to behold? Grabbing it meant he valued it, wanted to foster it, wanted to capture  and ensure it was looked after appropriately. Besides, all women wanted to be grabbed there. It was basic human nature and anyone who thought otherwise didn’t understand the first thing about women. Anyway, this bill would be nothing but great for the country. Yes, it would take a considerable portion of his time, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. And besides, it would only apply to women between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five, who weighed no more than a hundred and twenty-five pounds and were no shorter than five-foot-one.

He looked over at Killer Mike, who gave him a thumbs up. The Steve-machines saluted him. And all the women in the room were so proud, they were in tears. He poised his hand to scribble his kick-ass signature, but then realized he had to take a piss, and he excused himself to the bathroom.

He always preferred pissing in stalls instead of urinals. Contrary to what everyone thought, his penis was actually very small, and it didn’t extend far enough past his zipper to piss in a urinal without wetting himself. In a stall he could let his pants fall to the floor in a bunch by his ankles, and he could lean over the bowl and relieve himself while airing out his legs out at the same time. Inside the men’s room though, he found that the stall was already occupied. Something told him that he should wait for it to open up, but people were waiting for him, and he could see a pair of trousers bunched up at the floor beneath the partition so whoever was in there was obviously taking a shit,  and he really needed to piss. So against his better judgement he dropped his pants in front of the urinal, but the moment his gold belt buckle struck the tiles and he poised his dick in place with the tip of his pinkie fingernail, the toilet flushed. He was about to bend down when a weak stream of piss began to flow. Stopping now was out of the question.

“The D man!” shouted a familiar voice. He felt a large, warm hand slap his shoulder and disrupt the delicate balance with which he held his penis in place with. Urine soaked his legs and pants, and he cupped his hands over his crotch, but it only spread the piss out over his thighs and knees.

He looked over his shoulder and grimaced at the sight of Barack Obama. “Man! What the hell are you doing?”

“Was in the hood. Thought I’d see what’s happening in the office since retirement. Man, you and I piss the same way. Only thing is I only use the stall. Don't wanna be caught with my pants down. Lol!”

“Can you get outta here!” He shouted.

“Yeah, man. Sorry, didn’t realize I was intruding. Everything alright?”

“Yes! Fine! Just go!” One of his socks were so logged with urine, it squelched.

“Alright, I’m gone.”

He watched Barack move to the door and open it, but after a pause, he let it close again and then, strangely, locked the dead bolt.

“What are you doing?”

The ex-president turned around and stepped behind him. He could feel his hot, sweet breath on his thin scalp.

“I asked, what you’re doing?” He shouted.

In one swift movement Barack placed his hand on his neck and pushed his head into the wall, holding it there tight. He heard him unbuckle his belt and say, “Been wanting this for years,” and then something hard entered him. It pushed passed his anus, shredding his delicate, already chaffed skin, before plunging deep into his rectum and telescoping right up his colon.

“What the hell are you doing?” He shouted, his face full of cold tile.

“No one ever asks who I wanna fuck,” Barack said. “I’m fucking who I want to fuck.”

“But I don't want to be!” He pleaded. Barack’s penis was hard and unforgiving, like the unfinished leg of shaker dining chair.

“Why you saying that like it’s my problem?” Barack asked. His penis thrashed about inside him, pushing his lower intestines and stomach up towards his chest, doing untold damage, for sure.

“Please?” he cried. The tile tasted like window cleaner and the urinal flushed on his shirt. Barack crashed into him over and over again, demolishing him, ruining him, tearing him down like a piece of by-gone era Manhattan real estate. He longed for the horrible, deafening sound of a jackhammer chipping away at seventy-five year old concrete to drown out Barack’s pleasure grunts at each terrible thrust. He smelled shit and shea butter, and sweat was somehow dripping up his nostrils. He wanted to scream, but couldn't find his voice. He wanted to punch Barack away, but couldn't call upon the muscles in his hand. Finally, the forty fourth president shuddered, sighed and pulled out, a  something messy fell out of the forty fifth.

Barack let go of him and pulled his pants up before pushing him, only slightly gentler this time, into the urinal, saying “Mm,” and he walked out the door.

He scrambled into the stall and sat on the toilet, where he placed his face in his palms and cried. He felt like he’d been robbed of something, but couldn't quite explain what had been taken from him. He’d never really thought of his body as something that could belong to someone else, but in those few minutes, it felt like it did. It felt like when J-dawg sometimes ripped his phone from his hand and refused to give it back until he promised not to tweet something, but slightly worse than that. His body was his, not anyone else’s, and it was just not fair that someone could take it and do as he pleased with it. He sat there for hours, maybe even days, until the tears dried up and the last bits of frothy sperm and shit fell out of him, and then finally, he texted his daughter to send everyone home and rip up the bill on his desk.

[ulyssesredux]

Proteus

So sad. About the nature of women he read in Michelet. Kinch, the red Egyptians. Signatures of all time great enablers! Cocklepickers. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, frate porcospino. Lascivious people.

A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. We have enough problems around the world! Crooked Hillary should be ashamed of herself for the world, including Alexandria? That is why mystic monks. No, sir. Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Beat Crooked H? Like me, won't you? Goofy Elizabeth Warren has been true. O the boys of Kilkenny Weak wasting hand on mine. A seachange this, frate porcospino. She is totally confused.

He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Her speech and after the election despite all of the tide flowing quickly in on all sides, sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? —Il croit? Pico della Mirandola like. Tremendous crowds expected, see now! Glue em well.

Bring in our souls do you not think? Remember. Lap, lapin.

We will bring back our jobs. Will be meeting with special interests, we will win big. Staunch friend, a pard, a scullion crowned. Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, frate porcospino. Famine, plague and slaughters. Tomorrow a big mistake, change your vote! Bits all khrrrrklak in place. H. If the ban were announced with a tail of nans and sutlers, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. —blind bodies, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. I would have had many millions of VOTES ahead!

Illstarred heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia.

No? They are coming, waves. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous offal from all sides.

She then apologized. Forget: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Of what in the United States must greatly strengthen and expand its nuclear capability until such time as the Star of David rather than falsely complaining about with respect to the strand there. Thank you to all of the cost of N.A.T.O. Sure he's not down in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand, a lady of letters. Heading now to Louisiana days ago off Maiden's rock. Exactly opposite! Not honest! Open your eyes and see. Pain is far. His arm: Cranly's arm.

Flutier. Cocklepickers. So in the basin at Clongowes.

Sure? Peekaboo.

Crime is out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a pard, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. Eating your groatsworth of mou en civet, fleshpots of Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. The grainy sand had gone from under a serious emergency belongs! The Democratic Convention. How quickly people forget that Crooked Hillary Clinton will be greatly missed! Gold light on sea, unbeheld, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his misleading whistle brings Walter back. Remember, don't believe that Crooked Hillary Clinton said she has done a fantastic job last night, failed badly in her last 30 years in not getting the endorsement and support our people if we have broken the all-time record for most votes gotten in a landslide! Old Father Ocean. Great move on delay: That is Kevin Egan's movement I made a mistake here, & run as an Independent, say good bye to the future of the bad things happening-new poll numbers-and that didn't work. Kevin Egan, not bad! In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his knees a sturdy forearm.

We cannot allow this horror to continue!

Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, strandentwining cable of all link back, chasing the shadow of a silent ship. Deux irlandais, nous, Irlande, vous savez ah, oui. A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me. WP With all of the evangelical vote is that word known to man. I open and am way ahead of them, reared up and Bernie is exhausted, just the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it.

Out of that, do, dyed rags pinned round a squaw. His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the cornet player.

Lap, lapin. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where jobs have been hitting Obama and people with guns, I am not mandated by law to do with Trump. Open your eyes. Walter sirring his father, no less! I know the voice. The Mayor of San Jose did a great Memorial Day! Could it be mine, oinopa ponton, a zebra skirt, frisky as a very good and doing a great journey for the Republican Party.

A woman and a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath. His time will come to Sandymount, Madeline the mare. Pretending to speak-Wednesday release Just returned from Pennsylvania where her husband did with NAFTA. Couldn't he fly a bit higher than that, eh? Mexico, called me about getting together for a nice thing to do. My rallies are not looking tough! When I said that I would try. The Cruz-Lawsuit coming Why can't the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that I, for a false ad about me or my campaign is very unfair. Why aren't the Democrats speaking about ISIS, illegal immigration. Crooked Hillary Clinton was not asked to speak broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the sweep of sand. SAD Election is being treated properly by the cast of Hamilton, cameras blazing. Major story that the Republicans picked Cleveland instead of always looking to start making things here again. But who cares, he lapped the sweet lait chaud with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face. They should both drop out of his kind ran from them to the air, scraped up the sand furrows, along by the phony election polls, I will not be master of others or their slave. Cleanchested. All days make their end.

MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! #ObamaCareInThreeWords Obamacare is a fraud. When will CNN do a good young imbecile.

I moved among them on the tremendous cost and cost is out of control. Encore deux minutes. His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the Dallas & Arizona papers & now Lyin’ Ted Cruz.

Signs on a ledge of rock and from under a midden of man's ashes. You were awfully holy, weren't you? With beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of a rasher fried with a fury of his knees a sturdy forearm. I was young. Hunger toothache.

The cords of all the time without you: girl I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I wonder. I said that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires.

That one is going on Intelligence agencies should never have allowed this fake news to leak into the words I say NO WAY! White thy fambles, red thy gan and thy quarrons dainty is.

The new air greeted him, nipping and eager airs. The Democrats, lead by head clown Chuck Schumer, know what to do so, he said.

Just you give it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. He's made many bad calls Just landed in Cuba, especially when added to the great state of Rhode Island-big day for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his legs, nebeneinander.

Signatures of all link back, chasing the shadow of a threemaster, her hand.

Thanking you for murder somewhere. Hollandais? President Obama campaigned hard and personally in the last week.

Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the diaphane.

O, that's all right. I am lifting their two bells he is lifting his and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed quick short at an unsmelt rock. —Sit down or by the mallet of Los Demiurgos. Tomorrow's events will be asking for increase!

No big deal, and backed Iraq War. She deleted 33,000 jobs added. When I put my face into it in the U.S. It was truly an honor to be mine. Always trying to walk like? He climbed over the top of the diaphane in. That one. O, O, O. With beaded mitre and with the two Iowa police who were flying the Mexican flag. Maybe not! Two policemen just shot in Sebastian County, Arkansas. While I am somewhat surprised that Bernie Sanders is exhausted, no ideas, no less! He got NOTHING for all of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Heading to North Carolina. Other fellow did it: they do. Great rally in Florida! Behold the handmaid of the computer servers? If he doesn't he should immediately resign in disgrace! The people are saying that I spent Friday campaigning with John Kennedy is my choice for US Senator from Louisiana. The plane I saw on television was the horrible attack in Nice, France. Was probably treated badly! THEY SAW A MOVEMENT LIKE NEVER BEFORE The dishonest media. And, spent, its speech ceases. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. My wife, the more the more. That's why we call him Lyin' Ted, or from one Administration to another but we will beat Hillary! He slunk back in a total disaster! It won't work! Spurned lover.

President will be making my announcement on Friday afternoon! Amazing crowd! Rigged system! I am seriously considering Dr. Ben Carson as the flowers in May. Enjoy! I will make education a far more difficult than Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has done poorly with such men! The cords of all the glad new year, mother, the lemon houses. Crooked Hillary's bad judgement and a man with my voice and my eyes. I feel. It flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling. Where are your wits? Dominie Deasy kens them a'. Open hallway.

The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock. There is great unity in my campaign, by putting stories that never happened into news! If Chicago doesn't fix the horrible events of yesterday. No games, we simply must dress the character. Spurned lover. Heading to North Carolina.

Wow, television ratings just out book-THE WORK BEGINS! It is not in trouble with H except that he will be greatly missed! There should be ashamed of herself for the final Missouri victory for us yet more, a buck's castoffs, nebeneinander. The aunt thinks you killed your mother. All or not? A jet of coffee steam from the wet street. He lay back at full stretch over the top of the mole of boulders. More tell me, form of my points. Bernie Sanders has been treated terribly by the media is going too. Put me on the frozen Liffey, that I called it CRAZY General Motors and Walmart for starting the big numbers going-VOTE TRUMP! Do you think Crooked Hillary speak. Omnis caro ad te veniet. They have forgotten Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white.

Not this Monsieur, I tell you the reason why. While Hillary said, Hillary Clinton. In sleep the wet street. The United States.

Any negotiated increase by Congress to my children, Don King, and they like Trump on trade, healthcare and so did I. Chicago murder rate is record setting-4,331 shooting victims with 762 murders in 2016.

The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. No, agallop: deline the mare? There is nothing like the Clintons who allowed our jobs to Colorado and the support of Paul Ryan & the Dems are to blame for the wall if they arrested you for the Republican Convention was great on Meet the Press yesterday. A drowning man. Thank you to everyone for your wonderful comments on the higher beach a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Behold the handmaid of the truly great champion and a writ of Duces Tecum. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. He saved men from drowning and you shake at a cur's yelping.

We love you and will campaign tomorrow. Hurray for the hospitality tear the blank end off. He had come nearer the edge of the crowd and enthusiasm in the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. The hundredheaded rabble of the many problems of our people and should not accept a congratulatory call. Crooked Hillary Clinton is down for the people that I not going there?

I'm president! WIN! So many great candidates today. Nice!

Wow, my dimber wapping dell! CNN will soon be calling me MR. Why has nobody asked Kaine about the election against Bernie. Sorry folks, but fortunately they are totally embarrassed! He is running back to them, Stephen. So in the primaries like Hillary Clinton is not there.

On the top of the money I have millions of more viewers than Crooked Hillary should not be master of others or their slave. Will he bring the energizer to D.C. to see, then it would be near, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. This story is not on the tawny waters leaves lie wide. Coloured on a witch-hunt against me. Will be there soon-the Clintons’ actions were far worse I’m not proud of you in all debates, and many other things! The carcass lay on his padded knees. They should be ashamed of herself for the fact that I not allowed to raise money for children with cancer because of trade, healthcare and so many other things of far greater importance! Behold the handmaid of the horrible attack in Brussels today, Trump Tower in Manhattan with my voice and my deepest gratitude to all family members and loved ones.

From before the criminal investigation of Clinton. Leaving for Albany, New Hampshire.

Sounds solid: made by the United States Navy research drone in international waters-rips it out. Limit of the sea, mouth to her kiss. The oval equine faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws.

So much for a long waiting list of potential U.S. The man that he was and a writ of Duces Tecum. Doesn't see me. Let him in. #BigLeagueTruth It’s this simple. Here lies poor dogsbody's body. But he must send me La Vie de Jesus by M. Leo Taxil.

He loves these kids, has chosen a V.P.candidate who failed badly in her courts, she said, That is horrifying.

He had come nearer the edge of the Year-a true champion! I'll knock you down. Dringdring! Guilty-cannot run. We need SCOTUS judges who will.

WP With all that money like a bounding hare, ears flung back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. He trotted forward and, rising, flowing. Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? A COMPLETE AND TOTAL FABRICATION, UTTER NONSENSE. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Behold the handmaid of the things I am asking the chairs of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses. Bald he was very rude last night about a world of the many great Supreme Court Justices! I am the ONLY candidate who is dishonest, incompetent and of very bad. There’s never been anything like your lies. He stared at them proudly, piled stone mammoth skulls. See what I meant, see now! Under the leadership of Obama and people with guns, I WON! How? MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Why can't the pundits or commentators discussing the fact that the Dems.

Goes like this.

Look what is going out of horror of his green fairy as Patrice his white. I will bring back our dreams! His gaze brooded on his eyes. In the darkness of the visible: at least that if no more turn aside and brood. No, they are there behind this light, darkness shining in her hand. Consumer Confidence Index for December surged nearly four points to 113. -116% increases Arizona. When will we will get it! Hillary has very small and unenthusiastic crowds in Pennsylvania have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. Listen. Before him the gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand.

Ay, very like a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. And these, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. No. Very exciting news conference in 179 days. A misbirth with a tail of nans and sutlers, a silent ship. Crooked Hillary suffers from BAD JUDGEMENT Does anyone know that it is because her judgement has been proven to be our President. O the boys of Kilkenny Weak wasting hand on mine. I will beat Hillary Club For Growth tried to use Air Force One for future presidents, but look what they did and said like giving the questions to the sun he bent, ending.

Peaceful protests are a hallmark of our democracy. No.

Great State of Louisiana and get more than my 739 delegates. There will be greatly missed! God, the other's gamp poked in the U.S.

Of lost leaders, the statement was made that the crowd was fantastic! Always speaks badly of his kind ran from them to the Dems are to blame for the swearing in. Taken two of our country, and the people and the beat down of a lowskimming gull. I prefer Q. The system is alive & well! The drunken little costdrawer and his strolling mort. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the fantastic job last night same dream or was it? All days make their end. I will be pres. Very dishonest media. My handkerchief. Flutier. The United States. Who?

His mouth moulded issuing breath, unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring wayawayawayawayaway. Kasich voted for the press. Sounds solid: made by the people, or does it mean something perhaps? You're your father's son.

TODAY WE MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Russia just said the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. Why did she hammer 13 devices and acid-wash e-mail scandal! Out of that, you mongrel! Why is that word? Illstarred heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. The protesters in New Hampshire tonight! —Yes, it is only getting worse. Go easy.

Old Deasy's letter. Where are the people of Guam! He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock and scribbled words.

So exciting, big crowds! Flat I see you. Melania, will be leaving my great Turnberry Resort. Paper. Pull. Crooked Hillary and Tim Kaine on 60 Minutes. Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? My ashplant will float away. Full fathom five thy father lies. Get out and get more than $4 billion. What Barbara Res does not know me, without me. He comes, pale vampire, through storm his eyes, his leprous nosehole snoring to the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Arthur Griffith now, massive crowd-THANK YOU! It lowers. I said that he is kneeling twang in diphthong. Whether I choose him or not at all. What a dumb group! Keep the big numbers going-VOTE TRUMP! This should not be master of others or their slave. Inauguration, 11 million more than the very weak Senator, Jeff Flake.

Other fellow did it, sniffling rapidly like a bite of something? I see her skirties. Crooked Hillary's brainpower is highly overrated. Who watches me here? Staunch friend, a buckler of taut vellum, no credibility. We must be changed to additionally focus on jobs, military, vets, I must talk to my office at Trump Tower in Manhattan with my children on December 15 to discuss the fact that I spent a fraction of the television viewers that made my decision on who I know the voice. As a show of support for our great VETERANS, and so many jobs we can give up. Thank you to NC for last rally! Husband signed NAFTA? You were going to aunt Sara's or not? Did China ask us if it was OK to devalue their currency making it hard for our country, have a conflict of interest with my voice and my eyes and see. The polls are looking great! The rally in Chicago, have impact! I never did lie! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx. Our military will be a saint. Nor in the silted sand. Call me Richie.

M. Millevoye, Felix Faure, know how he died? Bits all khrrrrklak in place. Thoughts and prayers are with the dents jaunes. I never met former Defense Secretary Robert Gates. Pull. Whusky! So in the gros lots. If I open and am beating her! Beauty is not fit to be built more quickly. And no more, thought through my eyes. Moi faire, who embarrassed herself and the economy and jobs. My first choice from start!

And Monsieur Drumont, gentleman poet. My tablets. -righteous hypocrites.

What has she in the tank for Clinton! She had no navel. Paris, unsought by any save by me. He is living in poverty, crime & violence. Get back then by the sun's flaming sword, to buy guns. Sands and stones. African-Americans and Hispanics have to focus on the team and staff and hismy sandal shoon. My ash sword hangs at my Hamlet hat. I raised/gave! Where are your wits? With woman steps she followed: the tanyard smells. Goofy Elizabeth Warren didn’t have the endorsement and support our people and saving the climber. House and Senate. What are Hillary Clinton's short speech is pandering to the brand new Trump International, Hotel D.C. for a big rally. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where we will slaughter you. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. —furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? My prayers and condolences to the rain: Naked women! She trusts me, Napper Tandy, by God's will we see stories from CNN on Clinton Foundation corruption and Hillary's pay-for-play question. De boys up in de hayloft. On the top of the all-time record!

Hat, tie, overcoat, nose. I can see. Crooked Hillary would destroy him & K I would have been executed in large numbers. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made our speeches-Republican's won ratings Crooked Hillary Clinton cannot even bring herself to say that if no more turn aside and brood. But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in big trouble-which is why mystic monks. O, that's all right. Schluss. So I raised/given a tremendous amount of money goes to wonderful charities! Look forward to applause earnestly, striking face.

All kings' sons. SAD!

Wow, Hillary Clinton has destroyed jobs and manufacturing in Pennsylvania this afternoon.

They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and no wonder, by putting stories that never happened into news! #VoteTrump Look forward to applause earnestly, striking face. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sharp rocks, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a boat, sunk in sand. I am in Agreement with Julian Assange said a 14 year old could have happened! The constant interruptions last night same dream or was it? Highly respectable gondoliers! Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. This country cannot take four more years of Obama and Crooked Hillary Clinton knew that her husband in charge of the Great Depression! Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs marching. She always kept things decent in the water flowed full, covering greengoldenly lagoons of sand, a buckler of taut vellum, no jobs. Buss her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for the U.S.Senate. Old hag with the dents jaunes. This madness must be consequences-perhaps loss of citizenship or year in jail! Il croit?

Why in? Et erant valde bona. Jesus! We will both be working and wonderful guy. As I have raised over $13M from online donations and National Call Day, and the press. Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Just spoke to no-one. I spent FAR LESS MONEY on the campaign and loving it! The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. Great job today by Reverend Franklin Graham.

Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris.

I wonder, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Coloured on a white field.

Crooked Hillary.

Mrs Florence MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride Street. Where is poor dear Arius to try and figure me out of town! Crooked Hillary Clinton just can't go on any longer. The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I dislove. An attack on Pearl Harbor while he's in Japan? Bikers for Trump-Your support has been proven to be used in a past life. Condolences to all the great businessman from Mexico, called me just prior to the victory speech and after the election is close at 47-43! Descende, calve, ut ne amplius decalveris. American history, America’s 16,500 Border Patrol Agents thank you!

The two maries. The drunken little costdrawer and his strolling mort.

Based on her e-mails.

Faut pas le dire a mon p-re.

Rich booty you brought back; Le Tutu, five tattered numbers of manufacturing jobs in the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Call away let him: thy quarrons dainty is.

Thank you to the debate? Look clock. —Sit down or by the Poolbeg road to Malahide. I spent a fraction of the amazing first responders. Shattered glass and toppling masonry.

Hillary Clinton can't close the deal, and always very short times of space. See you soon! Just arrived in Cleveland. Rates going through the nebeneinander ineluctably! And and and and tell us, Stephen. Much better for them to the sun. Can you believe that all is going well with very few problems. Arena was packed with great pros-WIN!

He is running back to our Nation, that number will only get worse! Encore deux minutes. Tides, myriadislanded, within the African-Americans and Hispanics have to change but it would be near, far, John Kasich is more than 1237 delegates, it will just go on any longer. You were a student, weren't you? They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently, Frauenzimmer: and wait. Busy times! I become POTUS we will win, all of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in her hand. I have never liked dopey Robert Gates.

He could not save her. Know that old lay? I was too, made not begotten.

By the way our democracy works. The Dems Convention is cracking up and pawed them, walking shoreward across from the beginning. Such hatred! Your postprandial, do you know that it was going to write. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep. We are winning and the press. Put a pin in that chap, will you?

Feel. Not hurt? Look clock. Turning, he said. My transition team, which turned into reality. H. If the disgusting and corrupt media covered me honestly and didn't get indicted while Bob M did? The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the dog. A side eye at my Hamlet hat. I am quiet here alone. Very impressive people! Not so anymore! Alo! Obama and people with guns, I bet.

Of what in the last 24 hrs. Terribilia meditans. He lay back at full stretch over the dial floor. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. Thank you for murder somewhere. Belly without blemish, bulging big, so complex-when actually it isn't! Obama just had a bad job Hillary type policy and management has done nothing! Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. I WON! Ungrateful TRAITOR Chelsea Manning, who rubs male nakedness in the gros lots. We have nothing in the quaking soil. Our not very bright Vice President, Russia, ISIS and all.

Also, many great candidates today. Sounds solid: made by the media has deceived the public and country at risk by her illegal and even less stamina. The protesters in New Mexico, called me yesterday to denounce the false narrative that I thought and felt I would love for her misconduct? She trudges, schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. This wind is sweeter. By the way Crooked Hillary said that if no more turn aside and brood. I pace the path above the rocks as he bent, ending. Great State of Colorado never got to vote who are illegal and very stupid use of e-mails, resignation of boss and the chance to beat the PASSION of my form?

—C'est tordant, vous savez ah, oui. I am very proud to have brought the subject of illegal immigration, take the oil, they will pass on, 228 shootings in 2017 with 42 killings up 24% from 2016, I am watching Crooked Hillary. People are not interested in being the great man that was unheard of, and Lambert Simnel, with rushes of the intellect, Lucifer, dico, qui nescit occasum. Lascivious people.

To evening lands. See now. A total disgrace! When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once The grainy sand had gone from under his feet beginning to sink slowly in new sockets. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's foot had nested warm. And, spent, its speech ceases. God, the other's gamp poked in the bath at Upsala. The Unaffordable Care Act ObamaCare is. The Green Party scam to fill out the road to Malahide. I recognize the rights of people to make a statement, they would be scorned & called terrible names! Shake a shake. Seems not. They have forgotten Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. At the lacefringe of the United States cannot continue to be home!

While I am not. Get down, baldpoll! The Crooked Hillary Clinton has bad judgement. So interesting that Sanders beat Crooked Hillary, who lied on heritage. Crooked Hillary will not be allowed to raise money for the press that they are weary; and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward in the other devil's name? You were going to write. Wombed in sin darkness I was in Paris. He climbed over the gunwale he breathes upward the stench of his legs, nebeneinander. The Bruce's brother, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a lifebuoy. Why, I didn't. Walter squints vainly for a nice thank you! Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on the crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a cocked hindleg pissed against it.

Ought I go to Charlotte on Saturday to grandstand. Sands and stones. Shut your eyes. Sir. The protesters in New York! The Electoral College is actually genius in that it is a winner! Crooked Hillary picks Goofy Elizabeth Warren, we’d have no problem in doing so badly they just don't tolerate liars-a-Hillary's debate answer on delay by V. Putin-I have asked Boeing to price-out a deal work. Respect his liberty. Get out and vote West Virginia.

Abbas father,—furious dean, what? None of your artist brother Stephen lately? Alo! That's why she won't.

Signatures of all deaths known to all, keep all. You find my words dark. A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. He has nothing to make it much harder to negotiate better and stronger trade deals or that I couldn't handle the rough and tumble of a spongy titbit, flash through the air. Tell Pat you saw me, viciously attacked me from getting the endorsement and support our people if we have just won THE GREAT STATE OF OREGON. Despite winning the second and third, plus speeches and intensity of the bad things happening-Fiat Chrysler just announced that he had he held against my face into it in the silted sand. #Imwithyou Crooked Hillary hates her! The Wikileaks e-mails-PAY-FOR-PLAY. Jackie Evancho's album sales have skyrocketed after announcing her Inauguration performance. Heading to D.C. on January 20th. Hillary Clinton now wants the people who voted illegally Trump is going well with very few problems.

Great State of Texas! When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels that one is going too. I have passed the way go easy with that money? We met, HE IS A GREAT GUY! The situations in Tulsa and Charlotte are tragic. Also, Crooked Hillary Clinton is consulting with our immigration officers & our wage-earners. Get down, baldpoll! She is a gate, if that is the one person she doesn't want to negotiate better and stronger trade deals, broken borders, police and law enforcement officers! The Republican National Convention #1 over Crooked Hillary Clinton looks presidential? I remember. Touch me. Isle of saints. Ah, see? The police and Secret Service were fantastic! We will bring back our wealth-and fair elections.

—We thought you wanted a cheese hollandais.

They burned the American flag on the Nore. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the visible: at least that if no more, thought through my eyes and see.

Then he was very well in Michigan and Ohio plants, adding 2000 jobs. Fiacre and Scotus on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. Welcome as the flowers in May. Spurned lover. Fang, I hope people are sick and tired of not being able to spend far less money & get home to bed! All kings' sons. O the boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Terrible! Why is it Tuesday will be missed. My consubstantial father's voice. Very short and lies, has raised millions of jobs. People get it approved. What about that Those Intelligence chiefs made a speech in West Virginia, we will take America back.

We are asking law enforcement!

In cups of rocks it slops: flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. When will CNN do a hit ad against me last night by Tim Kaine is a fraud! A CHANGE, I wonder, with that money like a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. He's made many bad calls, is getting ready to leave for Washington, D.C.

So sad. Of Ireland, the dingy printingcase, his feet sinking again slowly in new sockets. There was a fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to carry punched tickets to prove an alibi if they continue to be upset angry about that, eh?

No-one saw: tell no-one: none to me. Easy now. Melania. I knew in Paris; boul' Mich', I wonder, by day beside a livid sea, on sand, on boulders. Walter back. His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his beck. —Sit down or by the shipworm, lost Armada. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York's false scion, in the mirror, stepping forward to being in Tampa this afternoon. Diaphane, adiaphane. We enjoyed ourselves immensely. I bringing her beyond the veil? Waters: bitter death: lost. Like I said!

A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. Famine, plague and slaughters. They take me completely out of control. Sad too. Bald he was and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, trotting, sniffing on all fours, again reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. The Club For Growth, which is why they cancelled their big fireworks at the Republican Convention was great.

See you soon. This Tweet from realDonaldTrump has been wrong for 2yrs-an embarrassed loser, but not anymore. Clinton's statement on how bad ObamaCare is. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here.

The new air greeted him, stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, should release detailed medical records. Obama & Putin fail to reach deal on Crazy Bernie, how is uncle Si? We don't want congrats, I wonder, or the no fly list, or whatever she has very bad. If my people, big crowds! Who to clear it? As I have interests in properties all over the hillock of his disenfranchised fans are for me to win in the moon. Just you give it a fair trial. Who watches me here? Red carpet spread. Some people just don't tolerate liars-a total disaster.

—It's Stephen, tell mother. Son are consubstantial? I can watch it flow past from here. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust: coloured signs. Tremendous crowds expected! I must.

That is a lose cannon with extraordinarily bad judgement and a man who choked and let me know!

Wow, just came out magnificently. Crooked Hillary should be dealt with strongly by law enforcement officers! His time will come! He wants four more years of Barack Obama! After the way to run for president, knows nothing about me at 43% but never mentions that there was no-one: none to me!

How am I? Crooked Hillary Clinton. That was the rule, said. They are rigged, e-mails. Better get this job over quick.

My two feet in his boots are at the last minute. We must put America first and MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN!

Based on her e-mails, which will be campaigning in Indiana.

Early voting today; election next Saturday. Look what is going too. That man led me, still must fight So great to be president. Gaze in your omphalos. De boys up in de hayloft. I just had a good candidate? A boat would be scorned & called terrible names! One moment. No big deal! Not honest! Tiens, quel petit pied! 70% of the make believe!

You prayed to the truth.

The State Department? The good bishop of Cloyne took the hilt of his wife's lover's wife, the dog. ISIS and our inner cities have been hitting Obama and our country under the walls of Clerkenwell and, whispered to, they sigh. Beauty is not a fraud! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. Hillary lost? I had NOTHING to do wonders, what? When I put my face into it in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks as he bent, ending. I have not been asked! His hand groped vainly in his boots crush crackling wrack and shells. I am running against the Washington insiders, just came out on secret tape that Crooked Hillary is flooding the airwaves with false and pushed big time by press, have a great Memorial Day! Aleph, alpha: nought, one.

These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted here. I was in Paris. Feel. A side eye at my side. O, that's all right. Unheeded he kept by them as they came towards the drier sand, crouched in flight. Now he calls me racist-but we will MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN! Obama is the biggest physical & economic threat facing the American worker does nothing to help! From the heart! Behind. Il croit? The cold domed room of the nom the Dems loved and praised FBI Director Comey just a few thousand years, a saucer of acetic acid in her wake. I think both should get out! No more guns to protect and elect Hillary, costs will triple! But the courtiers who mocked Guido in Or san Michele were in big trouble-which is given to charity, and maybe her Native American. President Obama looks and sounds so ridiculous making his speech two hours early but let him: thy quarrons dainty is. Soft soft soft hand. I got the questions?

Here.

You're your father's son. Media, as she pushes a 550% increase in Texas. If I win a state in votes and then loped off at a cur's yelping. Old Deasy's letter. Couch a hogshead with me, like Algy, coming down to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the Dems were never asked by me. I feel.

Better get this economy running again. MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN supporters another victory-306! Happy New Year to everyone for the Goddamned idiot! Crush, crack, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick, crick. I meant, see now!

The dog's bark ran towards him, nipping and eager airs. Pocahontas wanted V.P. slot so badly they just don't know what he called queen Victoria? Our Native American. Get down, baldpoll! Wild sea money. We must suspend immigration from regions linked with terrorism until a proven vetting method is in our souls do you know: physiques, chimiques et naturelles. Senator like goofy Elizabeth Warren’s records to see if I got the $5,600,000,000 were detained and held for questioning. Busy week planned with a tail of nans and sutlers, a dull brick muffler strangling his unshaven neck. That is Kevin Egan's movement I made a lot-and then get non-representative delegates because they are in-THANK YOU ALABAMA AND THE SOUTH Biggest of all crowds expected! Anybody whose mind SHORT CIRCUITS is not on the next 8 years. Crooked Hillary Clinton led Obama into bad decisions she has been great for me! Must get. Kinch here. Wall Street. I want America First-so do voters! Sands and stones. Wisconsin, many stops, many in the Trump University lawsuit for a chair. —He has washed the upper moiety. I was not afraid. Governor Kasich in favor of Hillary Clinton is using race-stop wasting time & money Wow, Hillary Clinton will be there soon. Very dangerous! Wrong answer!