"Police! Open up!" I yell, banging again. I steel myself as this time I hear the locks click-clunk and see the door pull back slowly to reveal a half-naked blond bear of a man, who fucking towers over me. He's standing, blocking the doorway, with a frying pan in one hand and an aerosol can in the other. His face is flushed, his chest heaving with exertion, eyes wide with adrenaline, and his bare torso is glistening with sweat. He adjusts the grip on the pan and I see the muscles of that arm ripple underneath the monochrome sleeve that adorns it. Shit. Why the fuck did I not call for back up? (Aka the failed one shot. From the ship that sails itself.) Some content is mature. Caution advised, but specific trigger warnings will be given where appropriate. Note: AWOOGA is used to label the dirrrrrrty chapters.

"It was a mistake, Scott! Get that through your head!" Mitch Grassi, a blossoming art student at a college far from home, has trouble studying one night as the dorm a few doors down hosts a wild, loud, and distracting party. He finds himself going to shut it down, but ends up doing much more. After an accidental hookup, he tries to go on with his life, but he can't shake the man that can't seem to shake him. He has put up expert walls to avoid situations like these, but that man still wants to break them down, no matter how many times Mitch tells him that was happened was a mistake.