Scraps X Brightney Novels & Stories

“I only have a few on display at section 3 but any design can be made into a clip or link. Basically just choose your metal and what you would like on it and we can do it.” “Wow! I would deeply appreciate it!” Councilman Mitch actually looked shocked. “Scarlet! Darling!” An older lady called out to Scarlet from a few feet away. She looked like she was skin and bones with a lot of extra skin. Layers of makeup to hide the wrinkles and wearing fur. “Excuse me, gentlemen.” Scarlet said politely and walked to the lady, embracing her in a slight hug. “This really did turn out great.” Councilman Damian said. “Thanks. It was rather easy to put together. If there weren't so many damn flower scents an

“The best play will be handed to the drama club where it will be used as a script for the annual play.” She heard Faith groan. Faith never was a good writer to start with. But she was confident. She loved to write. She was always writing before... Before that night. She took a deep breath and shook her head. “I hear groans from the back of the class, I’ll be checking your scripts first.” Mr. Winters threatened, but he was joking so everyone just laughed it off. “I’ll be expecting your completed scripts on my desk three weeks from now. Now for the partners.”

Scarlett stopped at the curb, bouncing on the balls of her feet, poised as if to do something. "Are you okay?" Harper bent and scooped up garbage that had rolled out of the overturned receptacle. "I'm fine." Jessica threw her hands up. "A gold Buick just turned in front of me." "A gold Buick?" Scarlett echoed. "Like Sissy's?" "I don't know." Jessica sighed. Cole grabbed the hefty garbage can and hauled it upright with a clang. "I bet it was Sissy." Scarlett shook her head. "I didn't say that it was," Jessica said then glanced at him with interest. "Well, hello there, stranger."

Eventually, she fell into a deep sleep and I placed her gently on her bed. It was at this moment that her father and Miles approached her and watched her subconscious form. Despite being in this state, the dark veins and her scars were still active. "What do we do now?" I asked as I stared worriedly down at Rainbow. My wolf ached as I watched her. "I remember hearing something like this when we visited Dale Moon Pack. They might have a solution. We need to contact them immediately," Arnold revealed. I nodded. "I'll write them a letter immediately," I stated.

Daphne said. “ Who says I'm not interested” Richard asked. “ I'm your sister, I know you don't like reading” Daphne said. “ Well I enjoyed reading Romeo and Juliet” Richard said. “ You did?” Daphne asked looking bewildered. “ I took Ann's advice and visited an eye doctor, so he recommended a pair of spectacles” he said smiling. “ I'm dismayed, however did we never think about doing that?” Daphne asked blinking.

That night I couldn't sleep. I turned and tossed on the bed. I felt terrible about fighting with my sister. At breakfast, it was kind of awkward. My only conclusion was that mum and dad heard our arguments. It hurts me to see them so sad and hurt like this. But mum and dad were trying to hide it which they are failing miserably, especially our mum Abigail. I couldn't stand the silence anymore, so I tried starting conservation. Mum, did you make breakfast yourself today . I begun, but she did not reply. She was playing with her pancakes. Which I know she prepared it herself.

and watch the flame eat the dark. Click. Click. Motherfucking click. Each spark is a plea that she won’t crawl into my bed tonight. –––––––– I stood in the doorway of the marble bathroom, lights strobing like a seizure— flickering, water dripping slow and deliberate. I slid a pair of Scissors out from my jacket like they were born there. “Good evening,” I whispered, tasting her name before I even knew it. The closer I got, the more she wore Elle’s ghost like a second skin, side profile carved straight from my nightmares, the only angle I still jerk off to.

A pair of silver embroidery scissors on the vanity. I move without thinking. The metal is cold against my palm as I pick it up, as I bring the sharp edge to my skin. The first slice is quick, practiced. A shallow line across my palm, deep enough to well up, but not deep enough to scar. I watch, detached, as blood pools, then drips—warm and red—onto the pristine white sheets. A stain. A lie. A perfect little crime. I let the pain settle, let the sting ground me.

Mia worked my cock with her mouth, covering my Johnson with her saliva. She showed Brooke and me how she loved giving sloppy head. My cock dripped with her spit. “Now put it back between her tits and fuck them like you fucked mine,” moaned Mia. One hand went straight to her cunt and the other to Brooke’s cunt. My cock returned to Brooke’s cleavage. The amount of spit that Mia had coated my boner with was amazing and a great lubricant for me to screw Brooke’s tits. Brooke had her fingers crossed as she held her breasts around my pumping cock. “Screw my tits. Force-feed your cock to my meaty tits. I pounded Brooke’s tits like a madman.

Elena winced. "Ow, my head," she groaned in pain as she looked around. Where was she? She looked around again. It was wide room with small windows covered by dirty curtains, making it suffocating. The paint on the wall was faded, different stains and marks plastered to it. There was a wooden table and chair at the corner of the room, several empty crates, bottles and cigarettes box laying carelessly around. It looked like an old abandoned room.