Well, hello there... this story you are about to read is absurd. It's utterly ridiculous crackfic. This was written for my bestest imaginary internet friend, YogaGal. She is awesome. We also have a deep love for gangster fics because we can't see how people write them seriously. I wrote this one with a smile on my face the entire time. PLUS, I got to write something that Yoga and I have been talking about forever. So, please, for the love of the use of fo' sho', enjoy this.

Also, of course, I don't own the characters.


My eyes lock with his from across the room, and my shoulders immediately square. Bitches best know not to look a motherfucker like me in the eyes-that's how people get shot. I won't hesitate to lay a punk down. I'm like a gun slinging cowboy ass mothafucka. By the time you even reach for your piece, my glock is cocked and your ass is dead.

He immediately glances away, so tonight my gun stays tucked into my jeans. It would be bad news if I shot someone in the club anyway. It's my baby sister's birthday today, and she would fucking freak if we got a little blood on her cake or something. To me, a little bitch blood just adds a bit more flavor.

I laugh at the thought and the girl grinding her ass on my cock giggles. I'm sure she thinks it makes her look hot or sweet or some pussy shit like that. It doesn't. This slut snorts like a fucking pig. Pushing her nasty ass off me, I turn to walk away, but her hand wraps around my wrist.

"What the fuck?" she screeches, and I keep a straight face, looking over her head instead of at her. She ain't worth my time.

"You best let go," I warn her.

She presses her body against me. Her fake water balloon tits expand against my stomach. That shit disgusts me. I'd rather have tiny titties than ones that don't even have any bounce. "Take me home," she says to me, blinking like she's got Tourette's. "Just take me!"

I finally look down at her as I peel her fingers off my arm. "The only place I'd take you is the garbage," I sneer.

Without another thought, I spin around. The dancers part for me because they know their place. I ain't about to be pushing my way through some crowd. They know a dangerous motherfucker when they see one, fo' sho'.

My boy, Emmett, is standing on the edge of the dance floor, keeping an eye out for anything that ain't like I want it. He lifts his chin to me, letting me know that it's all cool.

"Jasper!"

Emmett looks over, and I motion with my head to the bitch that is running up behind me. I guess she really wants to be thrown in the garbage. Maybe, when she's sitting in fish heads and rotten vegetables, she'll finally learn to back the fuck off.

I walk over to my boy. "Throw that bitch out," I tell him.

He brings his voice box up to his throat. "You want me to take her out?" the robotic voice asks. It barely even fazes me now, but that shit was hard as fuck to get used to. Emmett is a big motherfucker, but the robot voice always seems to completely ruin any violent tension I've managed to stir up. Still, he's two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle, and he only uses that thing because a bitch sliced his fucking throat in prison. If a punk starts laughing because of Emmett's robot voice, I always just ask if they want to know what my boy did to that guy in prison.

He didn't take him out for ice cream that's fo' sho'.

"Nah. Just throw her in a dumpster or something. Bitch needs to learn her place," I tell him.

He brings his hand back up to his throat, but I shake my head. I ain't got time for more robot questions. "Just do it!" I direct him, and he nods, intercepting that ho before she touches me again.

I walk away, but I can't help but turn around when I hear the bitch screaming as she gets carried out the club by my boy. Emmett has her thrown over his shoulder and she's kicking and punching at him, but he doesn't even acknowledge her attempts. Her ass is hanging out the bottom of her short as fuck dress, and from this angle, it makes me fucking ecstatic that I didn't even let her suck my cock. The slut looks nasty.

I may be a hard motherfucker, but I ain't looking to catch a disease on my dick... or at all. I need to wash my fuckin' hands. After doing just that, I'm already in the bathroom, so I might as well drain my piece.

I don't even glance over when a guy saddles himself right next to me—although, there are five urinals he could have chosen. It's more than a little gay to pick the one right next to the guy who is already pissing.

"Normally, people wait to wash their hands until after they've gone to the bathroom," is what the guy says to me a second later. He is actually fucking trying to talk to me while we both are holding our cocks out. Gay shit if I ever saw any, and punks have gotten capped for less.

"I ain't other people," I snap, giving him a break since it's my sister's birthday party.

He is silent only for a moment. "What did that girl do to you?" he asks.

"Bitch didn't know her place," I growl out, the threat unspoken but definitely there.

He turns and stares at me. He's about to get punched in the jaw if he doesn't keep his eyes on his own urinal. "That was my little sister, asshole," he sneers.

I turn to him, making sure that my eyes remain on his face. I've never been in a fight with another dude mid-piss before, but there is a first time for everything. This ain't a game. My dick is out. Bitch can literally see that I'm no pussy, so he better shut the fuck up right now. I'll take this motherfucker out and then tuck my junk back into my jeans like it's nothing. He doesn't know who he's dealing with.

"She is also a disgusting ass ho," I tell him, bored. "She just got dumped in the garbage where she belonged."

"She would have laughed if she would have seen your tiny prick, anyway," he says with a tight-lipped, angry smile.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" I ask, turning completely toward him.

"I'm Edward Cullen, bitch," he snaps at me, and I lose it, immediately slamming my forehead into his nose, loving the noise it makes when it breaks. "Fuck!" he screams, his hands going up to his now twisted ass nose.

"And, that's who I am, bitch," I laugh. "It's fucking nice to meet you."

He charges at me, knocking my back against the wall between two urinals, and I push back, bringing my foot up to kick him in the chest. Using the support of the wall, when my foot makes contact, the punk flies across the bathroom. While he is still trying to get his footing, I jump on him. He falls back hard. I press my forearm against his throat.

"You don't know who you're messing with," is my low whisper warning.

His green eyes narrow into slits. "I know exactly who you are," he hisses since my arm is hindering his ability to breathe.

I lean into his face. "Oh, yeah?" I ask. "So you know I'm the motherfucka' who's going to pop a cap in your ass?"

Before I even register what he's doing, lips are being pressed against mine, and I jerk back, apparently giving him enough slack to flip us around. He sits on me, his knees holding my arms down by my side, and much to my dismay, his dick is right in my face.

"Listen, here, you little queer boy!" I scream as his hand reaches into the front of my jeans. He grabs my glock and slides it across the floor. I turn my head, watching it disappear under one of the stall doors. "You're going to fucking die!" I growl at him as I struggle to get out of his hold.

"Yeah, I don't think so," he laughs, dismissing my threat. He stares down at me. "You want to know the real reason why I think you threw my sister out?"

"A different reason than her lop sided tits and day old cum breath?" I ask, straining my shoulders, trying to arch up.

"I think you're the one who wants cum breath, bitch," he sneers. "It's pretty obvious with the way you can't stop looking at my dick."

"You're the one who has it in my fucking face!" I scream. "I will take you out for this," I inform him coldly.

He brings his palm into the air, and I clench my jaw, waiting for the bitch slap this queer is about to give me. It's not like he's going to punch me, the sissy boy. Instead though, he licks his palm three times, like a cat lapping up some fucking cream.

"What the-" I stop, eyes wide, when I feel his hand wrap around my dick. He strokes me, and it's more than obvious that asshole has done this before. I ain't saying that it feels good because I'm not gay, but my cock is getting jerked. It's hard not to react.

"You like that don't you?" he sneers out his question. With the other hand that is not holding my dick, he grabs his own piece. He strokes his own cock in front of my face, and it's like a fucking train wreck. I just can't look away. "Look at you," he laughs. "You're drooling for it."

Then, without a doubt, he does the worst thing that he could ever do. He slaps me in the face with his dick. "I'm going to k-kill you," I say, my threat lessened by the break in my voice as he squeezes my dick on a downward stroke.

He swipes his dick across my face. "Is that before or after I make you cum all over my hand?"

"Get off me, motherfucker!" I yell, trying to get out of his hold. My hips arch up off the floor, trying to buck him off me, but all it does is help him jerk me off even better than he was doing before.

My mouth falls open. He leans down until his face is right above mine, letting go of my cock in the process. He chuckles when a traitorous bitch ass moan escapes from my lips. "Tell me you want it," he whispers in my ear. "Tell me you want me."

"Fuck you!"

His tongue traces the rim of my ear and then licks down my neck, circling my Adam's apple. My head falls back, inadvertently giving him more area to lick. Shit is so fucking gay! He bites at my jaw. "You're so hard for me. I know you want it. Tell me," he urges.

"Fuck you!" I repeat.

"I'd like that," he replies. Edward smiles and presses his lips to mine and once I recover from shock, I snap my teeth at his retreating lips. He laughs. "You play rough. I like that," he whispers in my ear. "I want you to fuck me like you mean it. You would do that wouldn't you?" he asks before plunging his tongue in and out of my ear.

"Yes," slips out of my mouth before my brain even has the chance to wrap around his words. Then, his lips are on mine, and when I try to yell at him to get the fuck off me, his tongue slips into my mouth. Kissing another guy is so fucking gay, but when he somehow reaches back around and starts stroking my dick again, I can't help but respond.

"What the fuck!"

The robot voice breaks through all of Edward's fucking queer mind control, and with his attention on Emmett's hulking form, I buck out of his hold. I nod my head and Emmett picks up Edward with one hand by his shirt. Turning my back on them, I force my still hard cock back into my jeans.

"Boss... what... I mean..." he struggles to find his words before he just moves the voice box away from his throat, his shoulders slumping. Edward struggles in his grasp, his dick jutting out of his unzipped jeans. Emmett growls at me to get my attention, and I force my eyes to the stall that my gun is in.

When I come out of the stall with my gun pointed right at him, Edward looks defeated. I press it against his chest. "I should kill you right here, bitch," I snarl, "but I promised my baby sister that no one would die at this club tonight."

He slumps and quits struggling in Emmett's hold. My boy is eyeing me like I've gone soft because my dick is still hard, but he doesn't bring his box up to his throat. He knows better than to robot voice me right now. "I know you're name though, bitch, so I can't keep the promise on another night," I warn with a laugh. I turn to Emmett. "Let's go. Leave this queer here."

Emmett throws him down hard and we leave. When we are in the car, I turn the music off. "You will never speak a word of this to anyone or I will finish what the guy in the joint started, do you feel me, Emmett?"

"My voice box is sealed," he promises.

I nod, turning the music back up. Edward Cullen, I think over and over, not letting myself forget that bitch's name. Edward Cullen, you are going to get fucked... up.


Please turn your voicebox to high and let me know what you think, fo' sho'!