You were a part of the Bowers Gang, the only girl in it, and you only were there because Henry was pretty much very attached to you since you two had been friends since childhood. You knew very well what you were getting yourself into when you started to hang out with the —violent, ruthless, agressive and threathening— group of bullies called the Bowers Gang, named after Henry since he was the leader of it. You had grown used to their violent and boyishly agressive nature, aswell as their angsty teenager mood-swings, by now.

However, what it was clear to anyone, was who was the most attached to you. Patrick Hockstetter. Patrick was the most deranged and twisted member out of the gang, he was a creep that loved to groope and molest any female that crossed his way as long as she had big tits or a nice ass, he was a socipath that tetered over the edge of psycopathy. Yet still, somehow, someway, you had grown fond of him.

It was early morning and you were walking through the halls of the highschool alongside many other tired students, or that was until you heard a yell of someone very familiar to you —Henry— "Patrick- Patrick dude, wait!" Before you could even react someone had already wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, squeezing your waist tightly as your body was slammed against his own. It was Patrick. He buried his face in the back of your neck from behind —growling in possesiveness— as he took a whiff of your perfume while pressing your back against his chest tightly.

"missed you-" he mumbled against your neck, his hands roughly roaming your body and giving your plump chest a squeeze —grooping it— before going back to hold onto your waist tightly. Patrick's hot breath hit your neck as he started to kiss your neck.

Patrick had woken up all bothered by a pretty explicit wet dream of you that morning, one where he didn't reach his orgasm before he was woken up by the alarm, and he was desperate, needy and clingy. As he always got when he was sexually pent up.