WARNING: M RATED

  It was my first day of high school.

  And honestly — i think it went okay.

  Which was not what i had expected.

  I came home bracing for the usual chaos — neighbors yelling, the pipes hissing, maybe a busted lightbulb flickering over the sink like a bad omen or something. But it was quiet.

  Too quiet.

  The apartment smelled like burnt toast and cheap air freshener. The plug-in by the door always gave off this fake vanil scent, like it was trying to cover up the truth of the pce. Our couch was still sunken in the middle from where my mom passed out st night watching telenoves. A mug of cold café con leche sat abandoned on the table, lipstick on the rim, still half full.

  Mom was already gone — probably halfway through her second shift. She left a note on the fridge that just said:

  "Proud of you. Don’t let anyone fuck with you. –M."

  She wrote it in permanent marker like it needed to st forever.I peeled it off and shoved it in my math notebook.

  I don’t know why I kept it.Felt like armor, I guess.

  I dumped my backpack on the couch, the strap caught and sent my algebra book sliding to the floor with a thud. I stared at it for a second before slouching down beside it, hoodie still on, arms crossed over my chest like a shield.

  The TV was already on — one of those game shows where people shout over each other and win microwaves and toasters. I muted it and just sat there, listening.

  No yelling upstairs.No music pounding through the walls.No barking from the mean-ass chihuahua down the hall.

  Just… quiet.

  I scrolled through my cracked phone, thumb tapping almost out of habit. No texts. A couple random memes in the group chat. One from Luna — a dumb TikTok edit of some girl biting her lip with hearts popping everywhere. My thumb paused on it a second longer than I meant to.

  Whatever. It was just a clip.

  I slid deeper into the cushions, one leg draped off the side. My other hand… just kinda wandered. Absentminded at first. At first, a touch over my shirt. A press lower. Familiar.

  It wasn’t like I pnned to.

  But sometimes, the body decides things before the brain catches up.

  Then I searched up a scene — you know the one — Megan Fox, Jennifer’s Body, that smirk, that slow lean-in. My screen flickered, the speakers buzzed with her voice.

  God.

  I bit down on my sleeves — my hand drifted deeper into my panties.

  My fingers rubbing over my clit.

  I kept my eyes glued to the illuminating screen.

  Amanda Seyfried and Megan Fox. The slow burn kiss. Their tongues darting.

  I pushed my fingers in. Deeper and deeper.

  The video was so short so i kept pying it on loop.

  My thumb — it's nail brushing on my clit.

  "Ahhh～"

  That felt different.

  I kept going. Faster and Faster.

  My chest rising and falling rapidly.

  My head jerked up — my eyes closed.

  I felt the impending orgasm wash over me.

  I id there for a while.

  Just lost in thought.

  My fingers were covered in my release and i smeared it on the couch.

  Click

  FUCK.

  I quickly pulled my panties up and straightened my shirt.

  The couch was stained — there wasn't enough time for it to dry.

  I quickly sat on top — covering it.

  My mom stepped in with a heavy sigh, tossing her keys in the chipped ceramic bowl by the door. Her work apron hung off one shoulder, and her eyes were already doing that thing where she scanned the apartment like a security guard — checking for anything out of pce.

  She clocked the couch. Me. The half-empty soda on the table.

  “You take the chicken out of the freezer?”

  "Yeah. It’s on the sink,” I lied quickly.

  She nodded, too tired to press further, and headed straight for the kitchen.

  I exhaled. The weight in my chest didn’t leave, but at least it shifted.

  Then the TV glitched. A flicker of blue-white static.

  And just like that… there it was.

  The League Day broadcast.

  Golden letters spinning across the screen like some old blockbuster intro. Dramatic music. Spotlights. Appuse from a crowd that probably had to pass ten security checkpoints just to stand there.

  Mom came back out with a bottle of water and colpsed into the seat beside me. Her body melted into the cushions, jaw clenched as the League’s logo burned onto the screen like a brand.

  She didn’t say anything.

  Neither did I.

  We both just watched.

  Karmahawk stood in the center — regal as ever. Wings folded behind him like bdes. The light caught on his armor, making it glow like a second sun. He raised a gloved hand in silence. The crowd went still.

  Then came the rest of the team.

  Stargaze, with her mirror-skin and calm smile.Tempest, face half-covered by his storm mask, lightning crackling around his fists.Rogue Fg, the bck-ops guy who never spoke, always lingering behind the others like a ghost.

  And, of course...

  The Reach.

  Alien. Gleaming. Elegant and unnerving in equal parts. One of them blinked — or at least, I think that’s what it was — and their ring-like halo pulsed in midair. Their suits looked like they were grown, not built. Organic, alive. Always moving, even when they stood still.

  They didn’t wave.

  They just… stared.

  As if analyzing every human watching.

  “Bloodsuckers,” Mom muttered.

  She wasn’t wrong.

  The Reach came ciming peace. Unity. Shared resources. And sure, for the first year or two, it seemed like they were actually making a difference. But then came the taxes. The drafts. The resource siphoning. Cities being “relocated.” Water “managed.”

  All for the greater good.

  But somehow, the “greater good” always meant someone else getting stronger, while neighborhoods like ours stayed cracked and flickering.

  I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees. The camera panned across the League, and I swear Karmahawk looked straight at me.

  Just for a second.

  And deep down — I felt it again.

  That buzz in my chest.The one that didn’t start today.The one that had been there since that day.

  I clutched the cracked phone tighter in my hand.

  Something inside me was humming again.

  Like a warning.

  Not too loud. Not too fast. But just enough.

  It didn’t take long — it never did. Not when my brain was swimming in it. That weird, electric ache. The warmth building. The edge I knew too well.

  And then — a breath, a pause, a full-body stillness.

  I let out a slow exhale, sinking further into the couch like it might swallow me whole.

  My chest was rising and falling like I’d just sprinted a block, and everything in my head felt fuzzy, like I’d shaken the snow globe of my own thoughts.

  The broadcast kept rolling, cutting to pre-recorded montages like it was the Super Bowl.

  Every cape had their segment. Every explosion had its music cue.

  It was propaganda, sure — but it was good propaganda.

  Silverback punched through a colpsing highway tunnel to save a school bus.Sora flew over a wildfire in Brazil, leaving a trail of glowing sky petals that supposedly “neutralized combustion zones” — whatever that meant.Dr. Prometheus unveiled a new initiative for “safer power licensing,” which probably meant more control over anyone born with even a spark of something unusual.

  And then the tone shifted.

  The vilins.

  The screen dimmed, the score turned eerie, and a giant graphic appeared: “Known Threats & Dissidents.”

  That’s how they framed it.Not “criminals.”“Dissidents.”

  First up was The Marionette — a woman with thread-like powers that let her control people like puppets. Former stage actress. Now considered internationally dangerous after hijacking a U.N. peace summit and making six ambassadors do a choreographed dance until their hearts gave out.

  Next was Bck Talon, a name whispered like a curse.

  No one really knew who — or what — he was. Just that he’d killed dozens of powered individuals without a single confirmed sighting. His calling card was a feather. Always dipped in blood. Always left on the victim’s chest.

  And then, there were the ones who didn’t make the screen but lived in the corners of the internet.Unconfirmed rumors.Power leaks.Cssified files that somehow “leaked.”

  Phantom Zero — a being said to phase between realities.Wretchnight — rumored to have wiped out an entire rural town in one night without being seen.The Chlorine Saint — yeah, they don’t even show his image anymore. Just a redacted file and a body count.

  I gnced at my mom again. Her jaw was clenched.

  She hated watching this crap, but she never turned it off.Said it was important to know the lies people were fed.Said it helped her know what to actually be afraid of.

  The League started giving their usual rehearsed speeches — unity, peace, global safety, bh bh — and I tuned them out. My eyes drifted toward the window, toward the flickering billboard outside that hadn’t worked right in months. It buzzed like my chest.

  This world was tired.

  Covered in spandex and drones and cameras, but tired all the same.

  And somewhere in all of that… I was supposed to find my pce?

  I leaned back against the couch, feeling the tension in my spine settle.

  The cracked phone screen lit up again. A notification from the school.Something about an “updated hero drill” scheduled for next week.

  I sighed.