#lunatic honey

[maleyanderecafe]

hey! hope you had a fun trip :D not sure if i can call this a recommendation, as ive never played the game, but there's a pretty obscure yandere otome game named 'Lunatic Honey ~Sekai de Ichiban Kimi ga Suki~'. Someone did write about it over on deviantart, so its not completely lost

It took a bit of digging and learning how to use TextExtract, but I was able to find the game here, though the game is only in Japanese as it seems. There's not a whole ton of information on this game other than the VNDB page and the deviant art page mentioned. However, I did find two korean reviews on it that are pretty detailed, so if you are interested, try reading those. Still I played the entire thing with all endings, extras and everything, so I will be documenting as much as I can on this. It's pretty good actually, even when the translation was a bit wonky all the time (but pretty hilarious), so I really hope that someone will pick this up and properly translate it.

I will warn that almost all the endings are rather tragic and dark and there is at least one cg in this summary that involves decapitation. I won't be posting all of the CGs, but I will be posting at least one for each character.

The story of Lunatic Honey starts out with our main protagonist Yuki talking about the three yanderes in the game: Hibiki, her childhood friend who takes care of her and is a bit aloof, Haruka, the blond underclassman who adores Yuki and Ryoma the flirty and dependable upperclassman. They are all popular at school with Haruka and Ryoma having their own fanclubs (essentially) and they all love Yuki and are a bit possessive of her (oh, you know, yandere things). The first choice dictates whose route you go down, with the girls in Yuki's class asking who she likes the most.

Hibiki's route, Hibiki and Yuki head home after the school day riding on Hibiki's motorcycle after he lends her a dictionary during school. He cooks food for Yuki and then goes home, to his mother, whom he ignores and heads into his room. While his mother is begging apologizes outside of his door, Hibiki is afraid that she might try to kill him again and thinks about Yuki, praying that she'll save him. The school festival is starting soon and everyone has to participate, with Hibiki's class doing a butler cafe that Yuki wants to see. While going home, Yuki meets up with Hibiki and the two go to a restaurant to eat and paint their nails (I think it's like a prize they get since the restaurant owners thing they're a couple but it's hard to tell with the translation). Upon going home, Hibiki begs again that time will move faster so that he can see Yuki's again. The next day, after a cute exchange about the nail painting on the roof, Yuki sees someone confessing to Hibiki, who then shreds the love letter in front of the girl's face. Yuki asks why Hibiki turned her down so harshly and Hibiki states he wanted to make it clear that he didn't like her, which somehow turns to him confessing to Yuki and her turning it down (again, translations a bit rough there). Yuki goes home and cleans her room, finding a necklace that Hibiki gave her when she was younger. We get a flashback to when the two were younger, where Hibiki gives Yuki the necklace as a way to show his feelings towards her. During the festival, Yuki comes to visit Hibiki in his booth, seeing him in a waiter outfit and having a good time. After the festival, Yuki finds a cold Hibiki waiting at the entrance of her apartment and offers him to stay for the night. He takes a shower, thinking how happy he is that Yuki found him and that he will never let her go. The next morning, Yuki finds Hibiki huddled up next to the door of her room instead of on the couch. Concerned, she wakes him up and the two have breakfast. At some point, Yuki brings up the ring, and confesses her feelings, solidifying the two as a couple. At school, Hibiki reveals to the other two yanderes that they're dating, and they don't seem very happy about it, though are forced to accept it. We see how their relationship continues, with Yuki being more and more concerned about Hibiki, as he seems to know exactly where she is all the time and generally being much more possessive. On a rainy day, she sees Haruka standing in the rain and rushes to give him an umbrella, only to be stopped by Hibiki. Hibiki seems angry that she would give the umbrella to him in the first place, stating that she should only care about Hibiki. Yuki compromises and the two go together to give Haruka the umbrella. That night, Yuki remembers a memory from when she and Hibiki are younger, when Hibiki used to get very sick periodically, and ended up in the hospital. Yuki would sneak in after hours to comfort Hibiki so he wouldn't be lonely. Hibiki's mother comes in and attempts to kill Hibiki, with Yuki saving him by throwing a vase at her and promising to always be there for Hibiki. At school, Ryoma confesses to Yuki that he's worried about Yuki and Hibiki, and that it's okay to say that he's a burden. Yuki states that while Hibiki can be difficult, she loves him and wouldn't trade him for anyone else. Upon leaving, we see that Hibiki had been listening the entire time, and Ryoma warns Hibiki to not neglect her and make her sad. We then see Hibiki on the rooftop with Yuki attempting to stop him from jumping off. Hibiki talks about how it would be paradise if the two could be together, to which Yuki hugs him, promising they will have it together. Hibiki jumps off the roof with Yuki in his arms happy that the two can be together forever.

If you choose to give Haruka the umbrella and ignore Hibiki, Yuki will run out into the rain and give Haruka an umbrella. In response, Haruka will be overjoyed and forcibly kisses Yuki. Hibiki from this point on seems more cheerful and the story becomes more light hearted with Hibiki sharing his food with Haruka and Ryoma. It turns out Hibiki hid razors in their food, causing their tongues to be cut off. Yuki reacts in horror as Hibiki takes out a machete to cut off his two rival's heads off.

If you choose to tell Ryoma that Hibiki is a burden, she will cry into Ryoma's arms before leaving, leaving a very depressed Hibiki. At home, Yuki cooks one of the leftover foods that Hibiki left for her but notices something strange. To her horror, she finds either Hibiki's hand or finger floating inside the food. She gets a call from Hibiki from inside of a subway station as well as a text from Hibiki for him apologizing for being a burden and that he left his hand/finger inside the food so that he will always be a part of Yuki. The last thing Yuki hears in the phone call is Hibiki jumping into the traintracks as the subway crushes him.

If Yuki instead chooses Haruka, Yuki will go to the library to find a dictionary for her class, bumping into Haruka there. Yuki and Haruka walk together to school and Yuki finds out that Haruka is actually a full British, his family is rich and he lives on the opposite end of where Yuki lives. Haruka walks Yuki home before going home and having dinner with his family. His family seems pretty normal and generally happy, and Haruka excuses himself to his room where he listens to Yuki over a radio. During lunchtime the next day, Haruka asks Yuki what their stance is on insects, since his cousin has been collecting him. Yuki dislikes most insects though she's fine with some of them (like butterflies or dragonflies) and Haruka agrees. We also find out that at the festival, Haruka will be participating in a cosplay event and dressing up as a cat boy. At the end of school, Yuki sees Haruka sitting out of his track team. Yuki talks to him and finds out that Haruka has injured his ankle and has been sitting out. He states that the team is counting on him and that now that he's hurt himself, he's essentially useless to them. Yuki tries to cheer him up by stating that he has other good qualities as well. Haruka goes home and listens in on Yuki again, believing that she's the only one who really cares about her and that today is proof. Upon going home the next day, Yuki runs into Haruka where they essentially have a date at the arcade playing with the claw machine. During the festival, Yuki goes to visit Haruka who but is stopped by a long line of people wanting to see him. Just as she's about to leave, Haruka stops her and the two go onto the rooftop, where Haruka confesses his feelings and Yuki accepts them. While preparing for her date with Haruka, Haruka is listening in on which outfits she's choosing. Haruka mentions that he planned the trip to the amusement park specifically for her by sending fliers to her house. During the date, Haruka mentions the kind of clothes that he'd like to see on her, and guides her throughout the park, knowing exactly what she wants due to his eavesdropping. Ryoma calls her during the date, but before she can respond, Haruka becomes really jealous, having his eyes cloud over, which scares Yuki. Upon rejecting the call, the two have a good date, although Yuki was still nervous about seeing that side of Haruka. The next day, while moving some things for her class, she finds that Ryoma has fallen down the stairs. It seems that Haruka had come up the stairs as well, and she heavily suspected that Haruka was the one who pushed him down. The next day at home, she finds it strange that Hibiki has not come to visit her and instead finds Haruka at her house and walks her to school. At school, we find out that Haruka broke both his legs in a motorcycle accident, and Yuki gets walked home y Haruka. At their place, Haruka grows jealous, telling Yuki that he fell for her at the beginning of the year since she helped her and that before he was bullied because of his British Heritage. To him, he believes everyone else is simply a bug, and attempts to stab Yuki. Mortified, he begins crying and Yuki comforts him, promising to never leave him. It turns out that Haruka purposefully started crying so that she would promise him that and happily accepts it.

If Yuki attempts to break up with Haruka, he will overhear due to his tracking device. The next day, Haruka continuously rings at the doorbell and tries to get in, much to Yuki's fright. She tries to hide, but Haruka breaks in due to a key that he got off of Hibiki, with his hand still held onto it. Haruka ends up stabbing Hibiki and as she dies, he hears Haruka's expression of love over and over again.

If Yuki accepts to be with Haruka, Haruka will become more and more isolating, cutting off her friends and only hanging around Haruka. One day, while crossing the street, someone pushes Haruka into the way of a truck causing him to get hit. Yuki is pulled back by Ryoma, who takes her away, declaring his love for her.

In Ryoma's route, Yuki runs into Ryoma while looking for a dictionary and Ryoma gives it to her, flirting with her and kissing her on the head. At the end of the day, Ryoma attempts to walk home with Yuki, but is blocked off by all of his fangirls, causing Yuki to walk home with Hibiki instead. At his apartment, his mother checks in on him briefly before living him alone, and we learn that Yuki is Ryoma's first love, and that he's having a hard time expressing his love to her and hopes to claim her as his own. The next day on the rooftop, Yuki asks Ryoma what he's doing for the festival and we find out that Ryoma will actually be participating in a basketball game and hopes that Yuki will come there to support him, to which Yuki says she will try to. After school while walking home, she walks with Ryoma through the park as the autumn leaves fall. They have a romantic moment talking about their favorite seasons and how they like the autumn leaves. At home, Ryoma's love for Yuki grows stronger, with him really wanting to make him hers. The next day, before Yuki goes home, she's confronted by the members of Ryoma's fanclub and bullied before Ryoma comes in to save her. He threatens that he will kill the fangirls and they run away scared. Ryoma promises to protect Yuki and that he will make sure nothing like this happens again. During the weekend, Yuki gets a text from Ryoma asking her to go to the movies with him, to which Yuki accepts. After meeting up, they have a romantic time watching the movie, which is about a love triangle. Ryoma talks about how he would never let that happen to the female character if he was in the main lead's shoes and would rather keep her all to himself. During the festival, Yuki goes to see Ryoma at the basketball game and even cheers for him. Afterwards, Ryoma tells Yuki that he was able to win because she cheered for him. Ryoma confesses to Yuki and she accepts, having them date. The next day they have a date together and they go into Ryoma's apartment. Ryoma notes that the apartment is soundproof making it great for doing karaoke (...amongst other things). Ryoma goes to get Yuki tea and during this time she gets a strange call from Haruka, with strange breathing. When Ryoma comes back, she notes the call to him with his response stating that it was probably a prank call. Ryoma leaves again for a phone call, and Yuki hears strange noises upstairs. Tentatively, she goes up the stairs and finds a tied and beat up Haruka trapped on a chair. Ryoma finds her and wishes that she didn't do that, drugging her and making her pass out. When she wakes up, she is chained onto a bed. From then on, she is unable to escape, with Ryoma leaving to get her food, cuddle with her and even giving her a collar with a bell on it. One day, Yuki finds that Ryoma has forgotten to chain her up and attempts to leave the apartment, however, finds that Ryoma is outside. It seems that he purposefuly let them loose to test if she really loved her and decides to amputate her legs as a result. From then on, Yuki is broken, happy to see Ryoma whenever he returns, with Ryoma extremely happy as well.

If after Yuki escapes her chains she decides to look around the house, she finds that Haruka has been chopped into bits and finds Hibiki drowned in the bathroom. Ryoma while heading home thinks fondly of Yuki, happy that she didn't try to escape. However, upon opening the door is stabbed by Yuki. Ryoma stabs her back leading to the two dying on the living room floor together.

If Yuki accepts the dog collar willingly, she is continually pampered by Ryoma, essentially accepting her fate. He gifts her a coral hairpin before leaving but doesn't return. Instead, we get a Hibiki coming in and trying to save Yuki, showing her the decapitated head of Ryoma. Traumatized by his death, Yuki chooses to take her hairpin and kill herself, causing Hibiki to scream out and watch his love die.

The final (and probably least tragic as we know of) ending is if Yuki doesn't really choose any of the guys (or basically is neutral about them). On the day of the festival, she heads up to the roof, only to find the three guys there. They all confess to her, leading to her being shocked and confused at what's going on.

There are some extras as well, relating to the creator's comments and a "yandere room" with each character to ask them questions about their likes, dislikes hobbies and other things.

Going into the game I wasn't really expecting all that much, but it actually is a very good game and surprisingly tragic/brutal. Despite the fact that is a bit old, it is very well written and very much of it's time (basically it has the vibes that it came from 2014 which isn't really a bad thing it's just a feeling.) Considering the game was made by a team of three, I think it's very well made, from the backgrounds to the sprites to the songs. I'm not sure if they made the music or not, but it's very good consisting of piano rifts. My favorite one is what I call the "panic" music, which generally plays when when the yandere is doing something, well, yandere like and the use of silence is really good for some of the endings. On Hibiki's train suicide route, I was having chills down my spine because of the silence they used when they revealed that Yuki was eating curry with Hibiki's hand/fingers in it.

My favorites in order are Hibiki, Haruka and then Ryoma, with Hibiki having the most emotional route and being the most fleshed out. I think that Hibiki as a yandere is a little bit more rare in games too since he tends to be more self inflicting which isn't something I see too much. Haruka and Ryoma's routes are both good and are more based on preference which one you like the most (I like Haruka because he's cute, has a good face turn and I'm not really into confinement as much), though it does feel like Hibiki's route is the "canon" out of all of them.

Starting with Hibiki's route, I actually wasn't sure that I would like him since he comes off as rather aloof initially but as the route went on I started to feel for him the most. Out of all the love interest he's the only one that has a bad relationship with his parents (with Haruka and Ryoma, they seem to have good relationships with their parents they are simply just unaware what their children are doing), and you really feel bad for him considering when he's at home all he wants is to see Yuki again. He is the childhood friend so he's been taking care of Yuki since she was young and Yuki protected Hibiki from his mother as well when they were smaller and his route shows how vulnerable he is. I think he had the most impact in terms of bad endings because I did not expect him cut of his own hand/fingers and kill himself on the subway (I think it's the bad end that most resonates with me). His other bad ending seems a bit strange since he's really happy until he straight up cuts off Haruka and Ryoma's head since other than that he doesn't really seem to be the brutal type, though I guess it does foreshadow the bad ending in Ryoma's route considering he decapitates him.

I was kinda wondering why it took him so long to sleep over at Yuki's house. I feel that because Hibiki and Yuki are close enough that it wouldn't really be weird for him to sleep over at her place (at least on her couch) especially if he reminds her about his relationship with his mom. Maybe it's because he's trying to come off as more independent, but I just feel like he could have totally slept over if he wanted, plus he'd always be near Yuki if he did, making it so he wouldn't always be pining for her at home.

I thought it was funny that the text extract would mistranslate Hibiki's name into Echo/Sound/Ring, so much so that Cherry and I would just call him Echo-kun/Ring-kun/Sound-kun. Cherry also laments his mullet hair because it doesn't really look that good on him in the sprites and especially when he dresses up as a waitor. There's a bit of a dark joke that he likes watermelons considering in the Ryoma bad ending, Yuki initially mistakes Ryoma's head as the watermelons that Echo-kun and her would break when they were younger which is... dark haha.

Moving onto Haruka's route, I think his route did a good job with his heel face turn especially when it came to him basically going into yandere mode. Out of all the love interests, he's definitely the most pushy in terms of getting Yuki to do what he wants as well as the most isolating (socially because the actual isolation award goes to Ryoma). Yuki is so scared of him that she actively tries not to activate that side of him and tries to believe in that sweeter side of Haruka. I did think it was funny that in his bad ending Ryoma just kind of comes out of nowhere and kills Haruka. I also kept joking that because Hibiki lost his hands/fingers in Haruka's other bad ending that Hibiki is just destined to lose his hands in all of them lol.

There wasn't anything really wrong with Haruka's route, I just thought it was funny that he was like "I like my parents but they just don't understand me" moment when he initially goes into his room to listen in on Yuki. Something about it made me think he was like a brooding teenager which is sort of is, lol. Not that telling his parents that he's wiretapping the girl he likes is something he should do, I just think it's funny. I also kept on imagining when Haruka gets Hibiki into the motorcycle accident that he just straight up jump kicks him sideways because although that's probably not what happened I just think that would be the funniest way of doing it.

Text extract kept on translating his name as remote (?) for some reason. I liked his cat outfit (because I'm weak to those) but it looked kind of weird on him I'll be honest. I think it's just because he looks weirdly flat on him, but a cat outfit is a cat outfit.

Ryoma's route is surprisingly the most romantic, since in pretty much all interactions in his route, its very sweet until up to the point where he kidnaps her (I mean he's sweet to her as well, just in a different way). Ryoma is the most bold out of all the other love interests, actively flirting with Yuki and it's a bit similar to Toma in a lot of ways. I do think that his route probably has the most deaths considering in the murder suicide ending pretty much all the main characters die. I think his route does the most 180 degrees in this game going from romantic to straight up kidnapping Yuki and even amputating her legs in the true ending.

I am surprised that pretty much no one seems to really know or at least care that Yuki is gone other than Hibiki considering she gets imprisoned for like a month, or maybe they did but since we're in Yuki's point of view it doesn't seem like they really cared. I guess Hibiki does end up succeeding in looking for her in the two bad endings, but it either ends up with him or Yuki dead so I guess it wouldn't have really worked out in the first place.

His name was consistently Ryoma except for the instances where they either translated him to horse or old man. I guess it makes sense because the first character of Ryoma's name is horse (馬), though I was surprised that it was so consistent considering the other two love interest's names.

Overall, I really did like this game. I think there was a lot of love when making it and it makes me sad that this group disbanded and that none of their games were ever translated. I hope that it does get picked up one day and translated because it is genuinely very good despite the way I had to change it to English (TextExtract was mostly consistent in translations except when it would cut off some long texts for some reason). If someone were to remake/translate this game, I think it would be really good for introducing to male yandere lovers.

Hopefully you guys enjoyed my really long summary and analysis for this game. Thank you for sending this ask because without it I wouldn't have played this obscure but pretty good yandere game!

[eleni-cherie]

✨fave kpop singles/title tracks 1st half of 2022✨

💔🩹 MOONBYUL - LUNATIC

🦋 WHEEIN - MAKE ME HAPPY

⚔️ JUNGKOOK - STAY ALIVE (PROD. SUGA)

⚖️ APINK - DILEMMA

👄🔫 (G) I-DLE - TOMBOY

🍯 SOLAR - HONEY

🔎 JESSI - ZOOM

🤠 PSY - THAT THAT (PROD. & FT. SUGA)

⚰️ TXT - GOOD BOY GONE BAD

❤️🔥 SUNMI - HEART BURN

honorable mentions :

woosung - phase me

miyeon - drive

moonbyul - c.i.t.t

🔸Fave kpop singles /title tracks 2nd half of 2022🔸

[sewerfight]

first impression: wow, a funny and cool person! i hope they follow me back someday…and they’re an actor? that’s SO cool!

current impression: i wonder if basta’s gonna post about son of sam today

When the disenfranchisement sets in 😔

[fuyuesu]

the fact that canele & wolf couple are a one-off is truly one of the most emotionally devastating things i've had to face in my life

[erzsebetrosztoczy]

i would pretend to be "sick" when i was like 6 just to get a hit of grandma's homemade cough syrup (moonshine and honey) so like lmao who cares at what ago people get introduced to alcohol so long as it's not hurting anyone else ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

I agree. Even more, there is a lot of food and drinks that contain some % of alcohol that kids can eat and drink. Like bonbons? The rum aroma that you put into sweets? There are foods that need to be made with alcohol. Djsjxhwhxhs kids nowadays doin drugs, having unsafe sex and this age, but God forbid that a 14 year old has a few slurps of wine or palinka🙄

[welcometogrouchland]

Okay done unloading 2-3 weeks worth of liked posts on you all. Going 2 bed now (if god lets me)

[doromoni]

I hate you , right? | GR63

George Russell x Red Bull Driver! y/n

warnings : swearing

Summary : George was a little too attractive after the summer break.

“Oh fuck off Russell! Are you blind? Side mirrors are there for a reason! Learn to fucking use it! You almost cost me my race, dickhead!”

Y/N L/N the first ever female driver for the Red Bull racing team, only through sheer determination and hardheadedness was she able to achieve such an amazing feat.

Being the only female on the grid was hard enough as it is with misogyny and sexism biting at her rear , but adding a British asshole really did put the cherry on top on the cake of ass-hattery that Formula 1 offered.

“Not my fault you drive like a fucking lunatic, that turn was mine and you know it L/N! maybe next time learn how to actually drive rather than depending on your car”

The two drivers are at each other’s faces yet again . This had been a normal event, that even the teams have grown accustomed to the shouts and curses of each driver — whether its swearing at each other in the Red Bull garage or nearly pouncing and succumbing to physicalities at Mercedes. Y/N L/N and George Russell are sworn enemies in and off the racing track.

They used to be friends, best friends even. Both driving for the Mercedes driver academy with George racing in F2 while Y/N in F3. When George won the F2 championship, earning himself a seat at Williams ; Y/N then was promoted to a seat in F2 . A year later Y/N had won her own F2 championship, but no F1 seat was offered in Williams nor in Mercedes to the female driver. Another year had passed, George was offered a seat at Mercedes while Mercedes had no news for Y/N L/N. That was until a seat was offered by Red Bull — giving a shock to the whole motorsport world. As Y/N raced for the Red and Blue team , she had flourished and proved everyone who doubted her wrong.

No one knew how George and Y/N’s rivalry exactly started , but all hell broke loose when George collided with Y/N during the 1st lap and both had DNFed the race.

Y/N was furious and snapped , storming into the Mercedes garage straight to where the English driver was standing still holding onto his racing helmet— shoving him with all her strength into the garage wall. Their faces almost touching as unpleasant words were exchanged ; rendering both teams speechless and leaving them with a horrendous PR mess to clean up.

This time was no different. Y/N and George were at each other’s throat, only this time it was Y/N pinned to the wall inside George’s driver room . George tightening his grip on the Red Bull driver’s waist, leaning his full body weight on the girl who was squirming for release.

“What even is the problem Y/N? We’re both on the podium and you’re team got a 1-2. Stop being a child, it’s racing! What do you expect”

“My problem is you Russell! You’re so careless and aggressive, we could’ve crashed again. You never changed, George , you’re still the fucking same!”

George’s eyes darken as his face drew even closer to the female driver— his voice like honey, dripping as it lowered an octave.

“Yeah?!And you changed so fucking much, I don’t even recognize you anymore Y/N! Now all I see is a bitch obsessed with winning. Tough luck! You’re Verstappen’s teammate, you will always be second.”

Not backing down , Y/n drew herself closer to the english driver ,enough that their noses where touching. A teasing yet derisive smirk formed on her lip, tongue darting out wetting her lips. Catching George’s eyes , as it glanced down towards y/n lips.

“Oh how rich! Coming from the guy who’s living in Lewis Hamilton’s bloody shadow. Like I care what you see me as , you were blind from the very beginning.“

A deep chuckle vibrated in George’s chest , drawing shivers up Y/N’s back , as he said

“ I hate you”

“No, duh Sherlock. I hate you more”

His eyes quickly darting from her eyes to her lips , as if contemplating something. Having enough of his antics and taking matters into her own hands, Y/N fisted his Fireproofs as she brought him down to her level. As their Lips almost touched , rapid knocks on the door distracted them from their daze.

Suddenly realizing their positions , Y/n pushed George away from her. Fuming, the female driver parted ways and left the Mercedes garage with a huff ; wrapping up the first race of the seond half of the season with glares and silent threats. Not realizing what was on each other’s mind

“ Such a rude mouth, what i’d do to shut that up and get a taste”

“I need to control myself. I was ready to pounce on George and have my way with him. Damn him and his perfect hair and golden skin”

The Red Bull and Mercedes driver starting the other half season with pent up anger and sexual tension thick enough to suffocate.

[l0vegl0wsinthedark]

Reminiscing

~

"Okay, this one."

Lily's irate frustration was a nearly tangible crackle in the perfumed air of the boutique. Draco glanced up over the rim of his spectacles.

"Absolutely not," he said calmly.

Lily's fists balled up in the skirt of the slinky, forest green dress she wore. Thousands of shimmery little beads were sewn into the light, clingy fabric. The slit ran all the way up to mid-thigh and the halterneck straps were beaded strings.

"Why." Lily's question sounded from between grit teeth.

"Turn around," Draco said flatly.

A moment of hesitation, and then Lily spun around to reveal her back, exposed from neck to tail bone.

"Absolutely not," repeated Draco, looking back down into his phone, typing out an email with one forefinger, painstakingly slow.

"It's a dress. You want me to buy a dress. This is a dress."

"I want you to be respectably dressed for your seventeenth birthday party," Draco replied without looking up. "You're coming of age, yes, but you will do so whilst dressed as you ought to be."

"As I ought to be," Lily repeated scornfully.

"As a Potter-Malfoy ought to be."

"Why can't a Potter-Malfoy wear something like this?"

"We don't go out in public half-naked."

"This is a floor length gown."

"The whole length of your left leg is on display, as is the entirety of your back." Draco glanced up once more. "Your whole back. You're practically naked."

Lily"s clenched jaw shifted as she gnashed her teeth some more. With forced calm, she said, "Papa, I do not want to be wearing some sort of Victorian ballgown for my seventeenth birthday party."

"More's the pity. But no, definitely not this one either."

"I can wear a jacket over it." Lily raised one eyebrow when Draco looked up again. "I want a leather jacket."

Draco snorted, shaking his head. "I don't think so."

"Dad said I could get one."

"Your dad is an idiot."

"I want one like his."

"Absolutely not. He's a lunatic with a flying motorcycle. You don't want everything he has, trust me."

"It's just a bloody leather jacket, Papa, please!" Lily actually stomped one booted foot, her voice rising shrilly.

"I'm used to strops, darling, I invented them," Draco said, completely unbothered. "Besides, what would your grandmother say. She would faint."

"She told me to get the jacket in black." When Draco looked up in genuine surprise, Lily went on, "She said black would go best with her opal earrings that she's having reset in silver for my birthday present."

Draco stared at her over his spectacles as she stood glaring back at him, hands on her hips.

Then the bell above the door tinkled merrily, and Harry's voice filled the silence of the stylish little boutique as he exchanged cheerful pleasantries with the owner.

Reaching breaking point, Lily shrieked, "DAD!"

"I will not tolerate that sort of screaming in a public--," Draco started.

"Green, eh?" Harry said, walking into the private area Draco had reserved for the afternoon, his own boots loud on the wooden flooring.

"Because I have your eyes," Lily said in her most honeyed voice. "Grandma's eyes."

"Good choice, Lils," Harry said affectionately, sitting down on the plush sofa next to Draco before carefully picking through the collection of truffles set out in little crystal bowls.

"You haven't looked at the dress very closely," Draco said, voice tight.

"Oh?" Harry popped a hazelnut truffle into his mouth, straightened his glasses a bit, and leaned back, crossing ankle over knee. "Let me do that, then." A pause, and then, "She looks great!"

Draco twirled one forefinger through the air, motioning for Lily to spin. "She's half-naked."

"It's the trend now or something," Harry said, shrugging and scratching carelessly through his beard.

"I want to wear it with a leather jacket, Dad," Lily said hastily. "A black leather jacket. One like yours."

Harry grinned, roughing up his hair as was his wont. "Like Sirius'. Yeah, why not? Let's get you one."

"Harry."

Draco's lips were very thin as he pulled off his glasses and turned the full force of his displeasure onto Harry.

"Don't," said Harry. "We said she could pick her own outfit."

"The Minister's going to be at the party," Draco said tightly.

"Doubt he cares, honestly," Harry said, eating more chocolate. "Besides, it's Lily's day."

"I don't like to be ganged up against," Draco said, teeth gleaming white on a forced, very dangerous smile.

"Babe, we're not ganging up--," Harry started.

"Where is James?" Draco said suddenly, raising his voice over Harry's.

"My ears are burning," James drawled, sauntering in. Draco turned in his seat to look at him, his mouth slightly open.

James' hair was a bright, lemon yellow where it stood in a carefully styled, vertical mass on his head. The sides had been shaved down close to the scalp and dyed green.

Draco could only splutter in apoplectic dismay at the sight.

"What are you supposed to look like?!" he finally managed to ask.

James shrugged, scratching behind one pierced ear. "Dad thinks it looks cool."

Draco whirled around in his seat, now glaring violently at Harry. "He was supposed to get a haircut that's also suitable for school."

"He's still on summer break," Harry said.

"His head looks like a bloody sunflower!" Draco said. "Harry, you had one job--"

But Lily was now cackling loudly at James, who in turn stood grinning proudly, hands in his pockets, fourteen years old and sincerely unbothered about a single opinion that wasn't his own. Harry couldn't help grinning, too, but he quickly moved closer to Draco and took one of his hands with both his own.

"Babe, we've talked about this," he murmured gently. "This is one of those times you need to let go. Remember how we talked about letting go?"

"She's seventeen, and he looks someone cracked an egg on his head," Draco seethed.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

"How about lunch at the Ritz?" he asked gently.

"And then we buy me a black leather jacket," Lily said, hitching up the skirt of her dress and stomping loudly back to the changing room.

"Life was easier when I was seventeen," Draco muttered darkly, glaring at where their son was inspecting a rack of dinner jakcets.

Harry grinned again. "Yeah. A war, a megalomaniac. I really miss those days."

~

[buffysummers]

I look around at this world you’re so eager to be a part of and all I see is six billion lunatics looking for the fastest ride out. Who’s not crazy? Look around. Everyone’s drinking, smoking, shooting up, shooting each other, or just plain screwing their brains out ’cause they don’t want ’em anymore. I’m crazy? Honey, I’m the original one-eyed chicklet in the kingdom of the blind, ’cause at least I admit the world makes me nuts. Glory "Glorificus" in season five of Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1997-2003)

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky (Annabeth Chase x Jackson!Reader)

After hearing Annabeth gripe about her father for the last two years, (Y/n) had expected him to have devil horns and fangs. She had not expected him to be wearing an old-fashioned aviator’s cap and goggles. He looks so strange, with his eyes bugging out through the glasses, that she, her brother Percy, Thalia, and Zoe take a step back on the back porch. 

“Hello,” he says in a friendly voice, “Are you delivering my airplanes?”

Thalia, Zoe, Percy, and (Y/n) look at each other warily. 

“Um, no, sir,” Percy says. 

“Drat,” he says. “I need three more Sopwith Camels.”

“Right,” (Y/n) says, though she has no idea what he’s talking about. “We’re, uh, friends,” - not exactly - “of Annabeth’s.”

“Annabeth?” he straightens, as if (Y/n) had just given him an electric shock. “Is she all right? Has something happened?”

None of the demigods answer, but their faces must’ve told him that something was very wrong. He takes off his cap and goggles. He has the same sandy-colored hair as Annabeth, and intense brown eyes. He’s handsome, for an older guy, but it looks as though he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, and his shirt is buttoned wrong, so one side of his collar sticks up higher than the other side. 

“You’d better come in,” Dr. Chase says grimly. 

The Chase’s house smells like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies and jazz music is coming from the kitchen. It seems like a messy, happy kind of home – the kind of place that someone had lived in forever.

“Dad!” a little boy screams. “He’s taking apart my robots!”

“Bobby,” Dr. Chase calls absently, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“I’m Bobby,” the little boy protests. “He’s Matthew!”

“Mathew,” Dr. Chase calls, “don’t take apart your brother’s robots.”

“Okay, Dad!”

Dr. Chase turns to us. “We’ll go upstairs to my study. This way.”

“Honey?” a woman calls. Annabeth’s stepmother appears in the living room, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Who are our guests?” she asks. 

“Oh,” Dr. Chase says. “This is . . .” He stares blankly at the demigods.

“Frederick,” she chides. “You forgot to ask them their names?”

The demigods introduce themselves a little uneasily, but Mrs. Chase seems nice to (Y/n). She asks if the demigods were hungry, and they admit that they were, and she lets them know she’d bring up some cookies, sandwiches, and sodas. 

“Dear,” Dr. Chase says. “They came about Annabeth?”

(Y/n) half expects Mrs. Chase to turn into a raving lunatic at the mention of her stepdaughter, but she just purses her lips and looks concerned. “All right. Go on up to the study, and I’ll bring you some food.” Her gaze rests knowingly on (Y/n), and she smiles at the daughter of Poseidon. “Nice meeting you, (Y/n). I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Upstairs, they walk into Dr. Chase’s study, and a gasp of amazement escapes from (Y/n)’s lips. 

The room is wall-to-wall books, but what really catches (Y/n)’s attention are the war models. There is a huge table with miniature tanks and soldiers fighting along a blue painted river, with hills and fake trees and stuff. Old-fashioned biplanes hang on strings from the ceiling, tilted at crazy angles like they were in the middle of a dogfight.

Dr. Chase smiles. "Yes. The Third Battle of Ypres. I'm writing a paper, you see, on the use of Sopwith Camels to strafe enemy lines. I believe they played a much greater role than they've been given credit for."

He plucks a biplane from its string and sweeps it across the battlefield, making airplane engine noises as he knocks down little German soldiers. 

(Y/n) smiles slightly, looking up at her girlfriend’s father. 

Zoe comes over and studies the battlefield. “The German lines were farther from the river.”

Dr. Chase stares at her. “How do you know that?”

"I was there," she says matter-of-factly. "Artemis wanted to show us how horrible war was, the way mortal men fight each other. And how foolish, too. The battle was a complete waste."

Dr. Chase opens his mouth in shock. “You –”

“She’s a Hunter, sir,” Thalia says. “But that’s not wy we’re here. We need –”

"You saw the Sopwith Camels?" Dr. Chase says. "How many were there? What formations did they fly?"

“Sir,” (Y/n) breaks in this time. “Annabeth, sh-she’s in danger.”

That gets his attention. He sets the biplane down.

“Of course,” he says. “Tell me everything.”

It isn’t easy, but they try. Meanwhile, the afternoon light is fading outside. 

The demigods were running out of time.

When they'd finished, Dr. Chase collapses in his leather recliner. He laces his hands. "My poor brave Annabeth. We must hurry."

"Sir, we need transportation to Mount Tamalpais," Zoe says. "And we need it immediately."

"I'll drive you. Hmm. it would be faster to fly in my Camel, but it only seats two."

"Whoa, you have an actual biplane?" Percy asks.

"Down at Crissy Field," Dr. Chase says proudly. "That's the reason I had to move here. My sponsor is a private collector with some of the finest World War I relics in the world. He let me restore the Sopwith Camel—"

Sir," (Y/n) says. "Just a car would be great. And it might be better if we went without you. It's too dangerous."

Dr. Chase frowns uncomfortably. “Now wait a minute, young lady. Annabeth is my daughter. Dangerous or not, I . . . I can’t just –”

"Snacks," Mrs. Chase announces. She pushes through the door with a tray full of peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches and Cokes and cookies fresh out of the oven, the chocolate chips still gooey. Thalia and Percy inhale a few cookies while Zoe says, "I can drive, sir. I'm not as young as I look. I promise not to destroy your car."

Mrs. Chase knits her eyebrows. "What's this about?"

“Annabeth is in danger,” Dr. Chase says. “On Mount Tam. I would drive them . . . but apparently it’s no place for mortals.”

It sounds to (Y/n) like it was really hard for him to get that last part out.

(Y/n) waits for Mrs. Chase to say no, but to her surprise, Mrs. Chase just nods. “Then they’d better get going.”

“Right!” Dr. Chase jumps and starts patting his pockets. “My keys . . .”

His wife sighs. "Frederick, honestly. You'd lose your head if it weren't wrapped inside your aviator hat. The keys are hanging on the peg by the front door."

“Right!” Dr. Chase says. 

Zoe and (Y/n) each grab a sandwich. “Thank you both,” Zoe says. “We should go. Now!”

The four hustle out the door and down the stairs, the Chases right behind them. 

“(Y/n)” Mrs. Chase calls as they’re leaving, “tell Annabeth . . . tell her she still has a home here, will you? Remind her of that.”

(Y/n) takes one last look at the messy living room - Annabeth’s half brothers spilling LEGOs and arguing, and the smell of cookies filling the air. Not a bad place, she thinks. 

“I’ll tell her,” (Y/n) replies, smiling slightly at her girlfriend’s stepmother. 

They run out to the yellow Volkswagen convertible parked in the driveway. The sun is going down, and (Y/n) figures they have less than an hour to save Annabeth.

. . . 

At the top of the mountain are ruins, blocks of black granite and marble as big as houses. Broken columns. Statues of bronze that look as though they’d been half melted. 

“The ruins of Mount Othrys,” Thalia whispers in awe. 

“Yes,” Zoe says. “It was not here before. This is bad.”

“What’s Mount Othrys?” Percy asks, feeling like a fool as usual.

“The mountain fortress of the Titans,” Zoe explains. “In the first war, Olympus and Othrys were the two rival capitals of the world. Othrys was –” she winces and holds her side. 

“You’re hurt,” (Y/n) says, ignoring her own possibly cracked ribs. “Let me see.”

“No!” Zoe protests. “It is nothing. I was saying... in the first war, Othrys was blasted to pieces.”

“But . . . how is it here?”

Thalia looks around cautiously as they pick their way through the rubble, past blocks of marble and broken archways. "It moves in the same way that Olympus moves. It always exists on the edges of civilization. But the fact that it is here, on this mountain, is not good."

“Why?”

"This is Atlas's mountain," Zoe says. "Where he hold s—" She freezes. Her voice is ragged with despair. "Where he used to hold up the sky."

They had reached the summit of the mountain. A few yards ahead of them, gray clouds swirl in a heavy vortex, making a funnel cloud that almost touches the mountaintop, but instead rests on the shoulders of a twelve-year-old girl with auburn hair and a tattered silvery dress: Artemis, her legs bound to the rock with celestial bronze dreams. This is what (Y/n) had seen in her dream - though it hadn't been a cavern roof that Artemis was forced to hold. 

It was the weight of the world.

"My lady!" Zoe rushes forward. 

But Artemis says, "Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Her voice is strained, and she is drenched in sweat. (Y/n) had never seen a goddess in pain before, but the weight of the sky is clearly too much for Artemis.

Zoe is crying. She runs forward, despite Artemis’s protests, and tugs at the chains. 

A booming voice speaks behind them: “Ah, how touching.”

They turn. 

The General is staging there in his brown suit. At his side are Luke - and half a dozen dracaenae bearing the weight of the golden sarcophagus of Kronos. 

Annabeth stands at Luke’s side - her hands cuffed behind her back, a gag in her mouth, and Luke is holding the point of his sword to her throat. 

(Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s gaze, her sword, Tsunami, still in pen form in her hand, a thousand questions running through her head. There is one message Annabeth is sending her, however: RUN!

(Y/n)’s face hardens. “Luke,” (Y/n) snarls. “Let her go.”

Luke’s smile is pale and weak. “That is the General’s decision, (Y/n). But it’s good to see you again.”

(Y/n) spats at him. 

The general chuckles. “So much for old friends. And you, Zoe. it’s been a long time. How’s my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you.”

“Do not respond,” Artemis groans. “Do not challenge him.”

“Wait a second,” Percy says. “You’re Atlas?”

The General glances at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

“You’re not going to hurt anyone,” Percy says, and (Y/n) grunts her agreement. “We won’t let you.”

The General sneers. “You have no right to interfere, little heroes. This is a family matter.”

Percy frowns. “A family matter?”

“Yes,” Zoe says bleakly. “Atlas is my father.”

The terrible thing is: (Y/n) can see the resemblance. Atlas has the same regal expression as Zoe, the same cold proud look in his eyes that Zoe sometimes got when she was mad, though on him, it looks a thousand times more evil. The Titan was all the things (Y/n) had originally disliked about Zoe, with none of the good she’d come to appreciate in her friend. 

"Let Artemis go," Zoe demands.

Atlas walks closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

Zoe opens her mouth to speak, but Artemis says, "No! Do not offer, Zoe! I forbid you."

Atlas smirks. He kneels next to Artemis and tries to touch her face, but the goddess bites at him, almost taking off his fingers.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckles. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

(Y/n) looks at Annabeth. She is desperately trying to tell (Y/n) something. She motions her head towards Luke. But all (Y/n) can do is stare at her. (Y/n) hadn't noticed before, but something about her had changed. Her beautiful blond hair was now streaked with gray - but that didn’t make Annabeth look less beautiful in (Y/n)’s eyes. 

"From holding the sky," Thalia mutters, as if she'd (Y/n)’s mind. "The weight should've killed her."

"I don't understand," Percy says. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughs. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiles. "Unless someone else takes it from you." He approaches the group, studying Thalia, (Y/n), and Percy. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," (Y/n) spits. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

"So you're another coward," (Y/n) snickers.

Atlas's eyes glow with hatred. With difficulty, he turns his attention to Thalia. "As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you."

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. He looked terribly weak, and he spoke every word as if it were painful. If (Y/n) didn't hate his guts so much, she almost would've felt sorry for him. "Thalia, you still can join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waves his hand, and next to us a pool of water appears: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for the Ophiotaurus. Percy can imagine Bessie in that pool. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more he was sure he could hear Bessie mooing.

Don't think about him! Suddenly Grover's voice is inside my mind—the empathy link. Percy could feel his emotions. He is on the verge of panic. I'm losing Bessie. Block the thoughts!

Percy tries to make his mind go blank. He tries to think about basketball players, skateboards, and the different kinds of candy in my mom's shop. Anything but Bessie.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persists. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke . . ." Her voice is full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods?

Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Thalia shakes her head. "Free Annabeth. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promises, "it can be like old times. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree . . ."His voice falters. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

(Y/n) doesn’t know what he means, but the fear in his voice sounds real enough. She could believe that Luke was in danger.

His life depends on Thalia's joining his cause. And (Y/n) is afraid Thalia might believe it, too.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoe warns. "We must fight them."

Luke waves his hand again, and a fire appears. A bronze brazier, just like the one at

camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," (Y/n) mutters. "No."

Behind Luke, the golden sarcophagus begins to glow. As it did, (Y/n) sees images in the mist

all around us: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful

palace rising around them, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promises, in a voice so strained it is hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

He points toward the ocean, and (Y/n)’s heart falls. Marching up the side of the mountain, from the beach where the Princess Andromeda was docked, is a great army. Dracaenae and

Laestrygonians, monsters and half-bloods, hellhounds, harpies, and other things (Y/n) can’t even name. The whole ship must've been emptied, because there are hundreds, many more than (Y/n) had seen on board last summer. And they are marching toward the mountain. In a few minutes, they would be there.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke says "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitates. She gazes at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wants in the world is to believe him. Then she levels her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleads. "Please. Don't make me . . . Don't make him destroy you."

There is no time. If that army gets to the top of the hill, we would be overwhelmed. (Y/n) meets her girlfriend’s eyes again. Annabeth nods.

(Y/n) looks at Percy, Thalia, and Zoe, and she decides it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to die fighting with friends like this.

"Now," (Y/n) says, and together, they charge.

Thalia goes straight for Luke. The power of her shield is so great that his dragon- women bodyguards flee in a panic, dropping the golden coffin and leaving him alone. But despite his sickly appearance, Luke is still quick with his sword. He snarls like a wild animal and counterattacks. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As for (Y/n), she does the stupidest thing in her life - which is saying a lot. She attacks the Titan Lord Atlas.

He laughs as (Y/n) approaches, her sword Tsunami springing to life in her hands. A massive javelin appears in Atlas’s hands and his silk suit melts into full Greek battle armor. “Go on, then!”

“(Y/n)!” Zoe calls. “Beware!”

(Y/n) knows what Zoe is warning her about. Chiron had told her a long time ago: Immortals are constrained by ancient rules. But a hero can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as she has the nerve. Once (Y/n) attacked, however, Atlas would be free to attack back directly with all his might. 

(Y/n) swings her sword, but Atlas knocks her aside with the shaft of his javelin. (Y/n) flies through the air, and slams into a black wall. It isn’t Mist anymore. The palace is rising, brick by brick. It’s becoming real.

“Fool!” Atlas screams gleefully, swatting aside one of Zoe’s arrows. “Did you think, simply because you could challenge that petty war god, that you could stand up to me?” 

The mention of Ares sets a jolt through (Y/n), and, ignoring her throbbing ribs, she shakes off her daze and charges again. 

The javelin’s point slashes towards (Y/n) like a scythe. She raises Tsunami, planning to cut off the Titan’s weapon at the shaft, but her arm feels like lead. Suddenly, the sword weighs a ton. 

And then (Y/n) remembers Ares's warning, spoken on the beach in Los Angeles so long ago:

When you need it most, your sword will fail you.

Not now! (Y/n) pleads. But it is no good. She tries to dodge, but the javelin catches her in the chest and sends (Y/n) flying like a rag doll. (Y/n) slams into the ground, her head spinning. (Y/n) looks up and finds herself at the feet of Artemis, still straining under the weight of the sky.

“Run, girl,” she tells (Y/n). “You must run!”

Atlas is taking his time coming towards (Y/n). My sword is gone. It had skittered away over the edge of the cliff. It might reappear in her pocket—maybe in a few seconds—but it doesn’t matter. (Y/n) would be dead by then. Luke and Thalia are fighting like demons, lightning crackling around them. Percy is fighting the dracaenae, and Annabeth is on the ground, desperately struggling to free her hands.

“Die, little hero!” Atlas says. He raises his javelin to impale (Y/n). 

“No!” Zoe yells, and volley of silver arrows sprout from the armpit chink in Atlas’s armor. 

“ARGH!” he bellows and turns back towards his daughter. 

(Y/n) reaches down and feels Tsunami back in her pocket. She couldn’t fight Atlas, even with a sword. And then a chill goes down her back. She remembers the words of the prophecy: The Titan’s curse must one withstand. (Y/n) couldn’t hope to beat Atlas, but there is someone who might stand a chance. 

“The sky,” (Y/n) tells the goddess. “Give it to me.”

"No, girl," Artemis says. Her forehead is beaded with metallic sweat, like quicksilver. "You don't know what you're asking. It will crush you!"

"Annabeth took it!"

"She barely survived. She had the spirit of a true huntress. You will not last so long."

"I'll die anyway," (Y/n) replies. "Give me the weight of the sky!"

(Y/n) doesn’t wait for her answer. She takes out Tsunami and slashes through her chains. Then she steps next to her and braces herself on one knee—holding up her hands—and touches the cold, heavy clouds. For a moment, Artemis and (Y/n) bare the weight together. It was the heaviest thing she'd ever felt, as if (Y/n) was being crushed under a thousand trucks. She wanted to black out from the pain, but (Y/n) breathes deeply. I can do this.

Then Artemis slips out from under the burden, and (Y/n) holds it alone. 

Every muscle in (Y/n)’s body turns to fire. Her bones feel like they’re melting. She wants to scream, but she doesn’t have the strength to open her mouth. She begins to sink, lower and lower to the ground, the sky’s weight crushing her.

(Y/n) concentrates on breathing. (Y/n) thinks about Bianca, who’d given her life so they could get to this moment. If she could do that, then (Y/n) could hold the sky.

(Y/n)’s vision turns fuzzy. Everything is tinged with red. She catches glimpses of the battle, but she isn’t sure if she is seeing anything clearly. There is Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fights. And Artemis, a blur of silver. She has two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashes wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seems to change form as she maneuvers. She is a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just (Y/n)’s fevered brain. Zoe shoots arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roars in pain each time one finds its mark, but they affect him like bee stings. He just gets madder and keeps fighting.

Thalia and Luke go spear on sword, lighting still flashing around them. Thalia presses Luke back with the aura of her shield. Even he is not immune to it. He retreats, wincing and growing in frustration. 

"Yield!" Thalia yells. "You never could beat me, Luke."

He bares his teeth. "Well see, my old friend."

Sweat pours down (Y/n)’s face. Her hands are slippery. Her shoulders would've screamed with agony if they could. (Y/n) feels like the vertebrae in her spine are being welded together by a blowtorch.

In her daze, (Y/n) can’t place Percy’s or Annabeth’s positions. She watches, however, as Artemis advances. The goddess was fast, but the Titan’s strength is impossible. His javelin slammed into the earth where Artemis had been a split second before, and a fissure opens in the rocks. He leaps over it and keeps pursuing her. The goddess was leading him back towards (Y/n). 

Get ready, the goddess speaks in her mind. 

(Y/n) is loosing the abulity to think through the pain in her ribs. Her responce is somthing like agggghh-owwwww.

“You fight well for a girl,” Atlas laughs. “But you are no match for me.”

He feints with teh tip of his javelin and Artemis dodges. (Y/n) sees the trick coming. Atlas’s javelin sweeps around and knocks Artemis’s legs off the ground. She falls, and Atlas brings up his javelin tip for the kill. 

"No!" Zoe screams. She leaps between her father and Artemis and shoots an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodges like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellows in rage. He sweeps aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

(Y/n) wasnts to shout her name, or run to her friend’s aid, but she can’t speak or move. She couldn’t even see where Zoe had landed. Then Atlas turns on Artemis with a look of triumph in his face. Artemis seems to be wounded. And she doesn’t get up. 

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloats. And he stabs downward.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabs his javelin shaft. It hits the earth right next to her and she pulls backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her, (Y/n) sees him coming down on top of her and she realizes what would happen. (Y/n) loosened her hold on the sky, and as Atlas slams into her, she doesn’t try to hold on. (Y/n) lets herself be pushed out of the way and she rolls.

The weight of the sky drops onto Atlas’s back, almost smashing him flat until he manages to get to his kness, strugging to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it is too late. 

"Noooooo!" He bellows so hard it shakes the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas is trapped under his old burden. (Y/n) tried to stand and fell back again, dazed from pain. Her body feels like it was burning up.

Thalia backs Luke to the edge of a cliff, but still they fought on, next to the golden coffin. Thalia has tears in her eyes. Luke has a bloody slash across his chest and his pale face glistened with sweat.

He lunges at Thalia and she slams him with her shield. Luke's sword spins out of his

hands and clatters to the rocks. Thalia puts her spear point to his throat.

For a moment, there is silence. 

“Well?” Luke asks. He tries to hide it, but (Y/n) can hear the fear in his voice. 

Thalia trembles with fury.

Behind her, Annabeth comes scrambling, finally free from her bonds. Her face is bruised and streaked with dirt. "Don't kill him!"

"He's a traitor," Thalia says. "A traitor!"

In her daze, (Y/n) realizes that Artemis is no longer with her, and Percy had taken the goddess’s place at her side. The goddess had run off toward theblack rocks where Zoe had fallen.

"We'll bring Luke back," Annabeth pleads. "To Olympus. He . . . he'll be useful."

"Is that what you want, Thalia?" Luke sneers. "To go back to Olympus in triumph? To please your dad?"

Thalia hesitats, and Luke makes a desperate grab for her spear.

"No!" Annabeth shouts. But without thinking, Thalia kicks Luke away. He looses his balance, terror on his face, and then he falls.

"Luke!" Annabeth screams.

Percy helps (Y/n) as they rush to the cliff’s edge. Below them, the army from the Princess Andromeda had stopped in amazement. They are staring at Luke’s broken from from teh rocks. Despite how much (Y/n) hated him, she couldn’t stand to see it. She wants to belive the son of Hermes is still alive, but that is impossible. The fall is at least fifty feet, and he isn’t moving.

One of the giants looks up and growls, "Kill them!"

Thalia is stiff with grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. (Y/n) pulls her back as a wave of javelins sail over their heads. They run for the rocks, ignoring the curses and threats of Atlas as they pass.

"Artemis!" Percy yells.

The goddess looks up, her face almost as grief-stricken as Thalia's. Zoe lies in the goddess's arms. She is breathing. Her eyes are open. But still . . .

"The wound is poisoned," Artemis says.

"Atlas poisoned her?" Percy asks.

"No," the goddess says. "Not Atlas."

Artemis shows them the wound in Zoe’s side. (Y/n) had almost forgotten her scrape with Ladon the dragon. The bite is so much worse than Zoe had let on. (Y/n) can barely look at the wound. Zoe had charged into battle against her father with a horrible cut already sapping her strengh. 

(Y/n) feels a hand lacing through her’s. She glances over to find Annabeth standing beside her. 

“The stars,” Zoe murmurs. “I cannot see them.”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” Percy says. “Come one. We have to get her some.”

No one moves. Grief hangs in the air. Even Artemis is too shocked to stir. The demigods may have met their doom right there, but then (Y/n) hears a strang buzzing noise. 

Just as the army of monsters come over the hill, a Sopwith Camel swoops down out of the sky. 

“Get away from my daugther!” Dr. Chase calls down, and his machine guns burst to life, peppering the groud with bullet holes and startling the whole group of monsters into scattering.

“Dad?” yells Annabeth in disbelief.

“Run!” he calls back, his voice growing fainter as the biplane swoops by. 

This shakes Artemis out of her grief. She stares up at teh antique plane, which is now coming back for another strafe. 

"A brave man," Artemis says with grudging approval. "Come, We must get Zoe away from here." She raises her hunting horn to her lips, and its clear sound echoes down the valleys of Marin. Zoe's eyes are fluttering.

"Hang in there!" Percy tells her. "It'll be all right!"

The Sopwith Camel swoops down again. A few giants threw javelins, and one flew straight between the wings of the plane, but the machine guns blazed. I realized with amazement that somehow Dr. Chase must've gotten hold of celestial bronze to fashion his bullets. The first row of snake women wailed as the machine gun's volley blew them into sulfurous yellow powder.

"That's . . . my dad!" Annabeth says in amazement.

They don’t have time to admire his flying. The giants and snake women are already recovering from their surprise. Dr. Chase would be in trouble soon.

Just then, the moonlight brights, and a silver chariot appears from the sky, drawn by the most beautiful deer (Y/n) had ever seen. It lands right next to them.

"Get in," Artemis says.

Annabeth helps (Y/n) get Thalia on board, and Percy helps Artemis with Zoe. They wrap

Zoe in a blanket as Artemis pulls the reins and the chariot sped away from the mountain,

straight into the air.

"Like Santa Claus's sleigh," (Y/n) murmurs, still dazed with pain.

Artemis takes time to look back at her. "Indeed, young half-blood. And where do you think that legend came from?"

Seeing them safely away, Dr. Chase turns his biplane and follows like an honor guard. It must have been one of the strangest sights ever, even for the Bay Area: a silver flying chariot pulled by deer, escorted by a Sopwith Camel.

Behind them, the army of Kronos roars in anger as they gather on the summit of Mount Tamalpais, but the loudest sound is the voice of Atlas, bellowing curses against the gods as he struggles under the weight of the sky.

. . . 

Annabeth and (Y/n) fly along side by side on the back of the pegasai. 

“Your dad seems cool,” (Y/n) tells Annabeth. 

It was too dark to see her girlfriend’s expression. She looks back, though California is far behind them now. 

“I guess so,” Annabeth replies. “We’ve been arguing for so many years.”

“Mhmm,” (Y/n) hums. “You mentioned that.”

“You think I was lying about that?” It sounds like a challenge to (Y/n), but a pretty half-hearted one, like she is asking it of herself.

"I didn't say you were lying. It's just . . . he seems okay. Your stepmom, too. Maybe they've, uh, gotten cooler since you saw them last."

She hesitates. "They're still in San Francisco, Percy. I can't live so far from camp."

(Y/n) doesn’t want to ask her next question. She is scared to know the answer. But I asks it anyway. "So what are you going to do now?"

They fly over a town, an island of lights in the middle of the dark. It whisks by so fast they might've been in an airplane.

"I don't know," she admits. "But thank you for rescuing me."

"Hey, you’re my girlfriend. I would go through Tartarus to rescue you."

"You didn't believe I was dead?"

"Never."

She hesitates. "Neither is Luke, you know. I mean . . . he isn't dead."

(Y/n) stares at her. She doesn’t know if Annabeth is cracking under the stress or what. "Annabeth, that fall was pretty bad. There's no way —"

"He isn't dead," she insistas. "I know it. The same way you knew about me."

Word Count: 5630 Words

[meiru-sama]

♡Yandere femboy x reader♡

This story contains: slight NSFW, stalking, obsession, kind of a jerk reader, forcing your child into something they dont wanna be or do:D.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror with a grin. You look so pretty! Your uniform looks so good on you !

It was the first day of your 3rd year high school and you are so excited to meet your former classmates and teachers, you can't wait for the new chaos and issues that will greet you this new school year!

"(Y/N), come down!" You heard your mom shouted downstairs. You quickly grabbed your bag then placed your phone on your pocket before going downstairs and you were surprised to see a female that seems to be your age and is wearing the same school uniform you are wearing right now.

You rose a brow while the brown haired female averted eye contact with you with a shy blush forming her cheeks. You looked at the women beside her and it was an older women that seems to be her mother.

"(Y/N). this is Miss Kouza and she is her daughter Fina. They moved here just a week ago and you and Fina will be going on the same school so please can you be her friend and help her socialize? She's a shy girl. "

You nodded your head before approaching the brown haired female, she was really pretty. Her long brown hair was tied into two pigtails and her honey eyes that you feel like you could stare forever.

"Hi, name's (Y/N). By the way i believe we should get going now causeee, we'll be late." You said before walking away to go outside the house while Fina followed. You waved Fina's mother and your mother good bye before glancing over at Fina. She was still avoiding eye contact and she was surprisingly pink. Was she that embarrassed?

You grabbed your phone from your pocket completely ignoring Fina's existence to text your friend but minutes had passed and you finally spoke. "You are really pretty." You said, while your eyes landed on her figure that was now finally staring back at you with wide eyes.

"uh--- thank you?" You scoffed. "That wasn't really a compliment. I just want you to stay away from a certain boy." You said, rolling your eyes.

Fina's eyes darkended. But you were unaware of it, ofcourse you always was. You don't even notice eyes watcing your every move since they move here, she always watches you----- no. He always watches you, he have grew interested. He wasn't really a female, her, women or a lady, she was just forced by her lunatic mother who always wanted a baby girl but to her luck, she was blessed by a boy.

Fina glanced at you who was staring down at your phone. He feels hot, gosh. Just staring at you makes him feel hot! He doesn't even know why he likes you so much but he just know that both of you are destined together, he can feel it that the both of you meant to be together. He is yours and you are his, only his .

When you both finally arrived the school, you let out an annoyed sigh when you saw multiple students crowding the hallway.

You unknowingly took Fina's hand before you both tried to squeeze in to the crowd to go to your shared classroom.

"R-- Room 203 right?" You asked while shoving the other students who are blocking your way. "Hm.. yeah--" Fina responded.

When you both finally entered the classroom, you quickly closed the door while panting slightly. You looked around the room then you found your old friend group all together again. You quickly approached them, finally letting go of Fina's hand making him disappointed.

While you were busy on your friend group, Fina was finding a non occupied seat but you suddenly called him making his heart skip a beat. Oh how he love it when you call his name.

His head snapped at your direction and then there he saw you giving him a happy grin. "You should join us !" You said before gesturing him to approach you.

And that's when it started. Your friendship with Fina you werent actually mean because of that first conversation with you but you were actually fun to hangout with just like he expected, you were cool, funny and it was really true you like a certain boy which makes him slightly triggered but atleast he knows you more than that boy do. You trust him more and you are comfortable with him more.

You and Fina were currently on your room, you decided to have a movie night with her and right now you are choosing a movie on your laptop while Fina sat on the edge of your bed watching your face with a genuine smile.

"Okay, okay i found a movie!!" You squeled in excitement. "What is it?" Fina asked. "Have you watched 20th girl century?? Like i was gonna choose a horror movie but we have all night so i want to rewatch 20th girl century right now, first!" You clasped your hands together while your eyes sparkled. Oh my.. he really love that look on your face, you look so happy.

"I havent't watched that but sure if you want." He responded. Your smile grew wider before you jumped off your bed, you grabbed something on your closet and it was your favorite comfortable shirt with a soft pajamas.

"What are you doing?" Fina asked as his face started to grew red while you just started to take off your clothes infront of him. "What? Im changing clothes?" You replied as you slide down your shorts revealing your underwear but you quickly wore your pajamas. "Gosh, dont worry we are both girls or expect you are a lesbian? If you are i could literally take you rn. Kidding" you laughed at your own joke but Fina just stared at you, slightly biting his lips. Gosh, he literally wants to fuck you right now.

"You didn't bring your pajamas with you?" You asked while jumping on your bed. Fina shook his head, his face was still red as a certain image of your underwear and your bra took over his mind.

(I THINK IM GONNA MAKE A PART 2)

[abiiors]

the boy next door // matty healy x reader

valentine's week - day 3: stupid cupid

a/n: a cliche stuck in an elevator with your hot neighbour fic cw: verrrryyyy suggestive, bad flirting, alludes to masturbation, sex toys wc: 3.8k

your package is out for delivery. 

the old email notification catches your eye while you’re doomscrolling through meaningless tiktoks, spread on your bed like a starfish. it’s not like you have no other work to do and yet you can’t help but refresh and refresh your email some more for any other updates. it’s four hours old by now and right at the top of your inbox. and yet the package isn’t here yet! you huff a bit and loudly curse at the delivery company. 

this is an important package, damn it! plus there’s the anticipation churning in your gut…

because you don't know how much you can trust the promises of a “discrete packaging.” what if the delivery driver just left it at your door? what if instead of plain cardboard packaging it has a massive red dildo on it and the words vibrator inside printed on top. 

it’s an insane thought, you know it is, still you already have a whole tongue-lashing ready for your best friend. 

“get a tiny pink bullet for yourself,” beth had said and then closed her eyes in delight, “especially the two-in-ones.” 

you had to slap her thigh before the conversation became any lewder but the thought stuck in your head, worming its way into the forefront of your mind at random times of the day. and no matter how hard you tried, you could not get it to go away…

especially with the thoughts of the neighbour—

no!

you will not think of that obnoxious boy, you will not think about his wild, messy curls and certainly not about his cheeky smile. you will not think about his sweaty tank top sticking to his body and how his stupid tattoos stand out against his stupid, toned arms. you will not think of matt–whatever his name is!

you huff, refreshing the email again, and jump when you see a new email has come through—literally one second ago. 

your package has been delivered. thank you for choosing cupid.

wait, what? 

you still in place, waiting to hear the shuffle of footsteps outside your front door. did you just miss someone ringing the doorbell? did this person just knock and leave the package outside? feeling like a lunatic for hyper-focusing on this one thing, you chuck your phone back on the bed. maybe the email was a mistake, maybe you should just wait for another hour or two and then launch into calling customer service. 

a tiny part of your brain tells you that this is exactly why your best friend had asked you to buy a toy for yourself…so you can relax a little and not be so wired all the time. but look at you now…stressing about the one thing that’s supposed to be relaxing. 

“you suck!” you type on your phone petulantly, a text to beth. but you know she will call you and laugh at you for five minutes straight if she found out.

rather maturely, you stick your tongue out at the phone too and flop back on the bed. why couldn’t you have had a busy day today of all days? unconsciously, your hand drifts lower, toying with the strings of your shorts now. you're not even particularly needy or turned on; just bored. and your mind is clearly occupied with one thing…

the thin cotton tank top you're wearing does nothing to hide your hardening nipples. your fingers touch and tease—the insides of your thighs, around your belly button, right under the waistband, and you find your thoughts drifting to the boy again. 

he’s hardly a boy; he looks like he’s the same age as you, and yet you can’t help but think of his boyish grins and shameless, open flirting. you're sure you have heard him trying to flirt with david, your sixty year old mailman before, although he might have been drunk then, judging by the wet kiss he’d placed on the old man’s cheek. the mailman had only laughed and swatted him away.  

you remember his voice; smooth and sweet like honey, full of laughter. his pretty curls that fell in his eyes. his eyes…framed by lovely, long lashes that rest on his cheeks. his eyes that make you feel like the only girl in the world if he ever looks at you. 

your fingers dip lower, almost touching the bundle of nerves, one hand touching your nipples as your toes curl into the mattress.

why are you even thinking about him? you should be thinking about one of your other crushes. you should be thinking about andrew garfield or oscar isaac or one of the several other men you have watched thirsty edits of. instead, your thoughts linger on messy curls and sparkling brown eyes. 

your face flushes deep and hot at the first brush of your fingers. so what if cupid doesn’t deliver? you’re perfectly capable of getting off by yourself, you’re not that desp—

you almost jumps out of your skin when the bell rings—extra loud and extra harsh. 

your heart thuds in your chest so hard that it almost crawls out of your throat. fuck! you have to clutch your chest to steady yourself a bit. fuck, fuck, fuck!

deep breaths…

one, two, three…

another deep breath…

there we go…

the bell rings again and you glare its general direction. first, they’re late and now they can’t even be bothered to be patient? muttering to herself like an old witch, you stomp towards the door. 

“couldn’t even give me two minutes?” you yank the door open hard enough to make the hinges creak and then freeze in your tracks. 

it’s not a delivery person. it’s the boy, looking at you with all the interest in the world. 

he’s simply dressed in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants—the slut uniform, you think darkly. but you can’t help the way your eyes linger on how snugly the t-shirt fits, how the sleeves cut off at just the right place so you can see the muscles peaking out from underneath. in return he does the same; shamelessly lets his eyes run all over your body. and suddenly you hyper aware of how you look. 

hardened nipples poking out from under the tank top, face flushed and hair messy, the strings to your shorts are no doubt undone. you defensively crosses your arms over your chest and jut your chin up at him. nothing but haughtiness and challenge. 

“what do you want?”

fuck, why is your voice so breathless now of all times?! and that’s when you see it, the plain brown box in his hands. 

“this was delivered to me,” he smirks and then proceeds to read out your full name off of the box. “yours, i’m guessing?”

you try your hardest not to snatch the box out of his hands because the longer it’s in his hands, the longer your brain tries to remind you of what—who—you were thinking about two minutes ago, the longer you have to actively refrain from dwelling on him saying your name in that stupidly sexy voice of his. so you make a show of tapping your foot impatiently and hold out your hand. 

it’s painful to just stand there and not thank him but you will not feed into his arrogance! you simply refuse. 

the boy shrugs his shoulders and gives you another once over, then places the box in your waiting hands. “looks like you don’t need it to get the party started though.”

your jaw drops to the floor as incredulity floods your body. the sheer AUDACITY! 

the boy simply presents you with a mocking little bow and turns on his heels. then he strolls away like he owns the place. and you remain standing at the front door, speechless and fuming, trying not to stare at his infuriatingly cute butt.

the boy is infiltrating your dreams. 

well, no, infiltrating is perhaps not the right word. but the boy is there now, smirking like he knows everything about you. somehow, in your dreams, he’s shirtless, only wearing a pair of grey sweatpants. your body betrays you as your eyes stray lower, dying to find some evidence of what’s on his mind. if it’s the same thing you have had on yours. 

the insufferable tone of his voice grates on you, saying your name over and over again, each time with a different inflection in his tone—commanding and needy and sultry until your head spins and loses all meaning of the word. 

the dream plays out the same way each time; he steps closer until you can feel the heat of his breath on your skin, feel the goosebumps rise in its wake. you don’t touch, you never touch yet somehow, you feel the heat radiating off him and permeating through your veins. the heat, like molten lava, mixes in your bloodstream and flows through your entire body before, inevitably, it pools between your legs. 

the boy says your name again, only a whisper this time but it sounds so real that you almost call out to him, reaching out. but you always wake up, hot and gasping for air, before you can feel his skin under your hands. 

not that your brain would know what that feels like. 

as you sit up on your bed, head still spinning, trying to get your breathing under control, your mind flashes with the tiny pink bullet currently in your closet. 

it hasn’t been unboxed yet. you refuse to do it until you’re sure you can get your thoughts under control, until you’re sure you won’t think of his pretty curls tickling the insides of your thigh. 

but now, as you clench your thighs together for some friction, you desperately want to.

helplessly, you stare up at the ceiling; 6:53 am, there’s no point in going back to sleep for 7 more minutes. besides, you're too worked up to fall back asleep. 

the morning turns out to be a disaster. absentmindedly, you use bodywash to wash your hair, put an extra teaspoon of sugar in your coffee, accidentally drop your favourite red lipstick when it’s halfway rolled out of the tube. 

all in all, by the time you're ready to get out of the door, you're frustrated, nearly in tears and ready to just call in sick and go back to bed. 

on top of that, only when you’re already downstairs do you realise that you’ve forgotten your phone at home. resisting the urge to stomp your feet like a toddler, you turn around and enters the lift once again and press the circular number 10. 

a moment later, the metal doors are about to close, only an inch-wide gap left between them when they stop in place and start opening again. 

god, what now?! 

uncharacteristically annoyed and feeling extremely petty, you do the one thing you shouldn’t—you jab your finger into the “close door” button. repeatedly. 

and that’s the exact moment the boy wedges himself in the gap and raises an eyebrow at you. his entire face changes when he sees the annoyed expression on your face, going from puzzled to delighted to cocky in under a second and his mouth quirks up into a smile that can only be described as evil. you stare at your feet, face flaming, clearly caught red-handed until the doors finally close. 

“in a hurry?” he prods. “you look peeved.”

you look at him in annoyance, trying very, very hard not to stare at any part of him at all—not at his slightly damp hair, or his tank top. not at the gym bang slung casually on his shoulder, or his sweatpants (black this time). you definitely do not look at all the tattoos on his arms that you hadn’t seen before. 

“‘m fine,” you mumble quickly and look away. he clicks his tongue. 

“boyfriend pissed you off?”

you stare straight ahead, willing the ancient lift to go faster. the boy doesn’t give up. 

“oh shit,” he whistles lowly, “girlfriend pissed you off?”

“no one pissed me off.” besides you, you think darkly but reign the thoughts in. there’s no need to be a bitch just because you’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed. 

“sure,” he shrugs and you’re rewarded with a blissfully silent second. just as you’re about to thank your lucky stars, the boy opens his mouth again. 

“i’m matty,” he smiles. “we’re neighbours.”

“oh i know, i’ve seen you around.”

he hums and puts his hands in his pockets, leaning against the metal wall of the lift. it’s unusually slow today, creaky and janky while going up when you should have already been at the tenth floor by now. matty’s eyebrows furrow. unconsciously you mimic his expression, and the elevator groans loudly. 

a hint of panic shoots through your body, and you whip your head to look at the display that flickers with a faint blue number 7. the whole thing wobbles, frantically, you throw out at arm, grasping at the first thing you can find which just so happens to be matty’s (very toned) arm. his eyes go round too. you murmur a couple of curses, the lights flicker. and then it all goes silent. 

with a last whine, the lift comes to a grinding halt and both of you mumble “fuck” in unison.

“stuck on an elevator with my pretty neighbour, what a cliche,” he snorts to himself, and you resist the urge to gape at him. 

his pretty neighbour, you conceal the little smile making its way onto your face and pointedly ignore the warmth spreading across your cheeks. matty, however, looks at you with all the interest in the world. 

“where were you headed? somewhere special?”

“it’s a…wednesday, matty,” you deadpan, staring at him like he’s grown two heads but he clicks his tongue like you’ve just missed the most obvious thing in the world. 

“well… it’s valentine’s day.”

oh. yeah, that it is. a slight flush of embarrassment creeps up your cheeks and you try not to feel like a loser at not clocking it instantly. well, doesn’t matter anyway, does it? you’ve basically announced to him that you’re absolutely alone today of all days. so single, in fact, that you didn’t even remember the existence of valentine’s day. 

and then there’s the fact that he knows about the vibrator. 

“can you call someone?” you scramble to change the topic and look around the tiny metal box for any hint of an emergency exit. “i left my phone back home.”

“i don’t have any bars,” he frowns and crosses his arms in front of him. his biceps bulge and you avert your eyes immediately. 

“so we’re proper stuck then.”

“i guess. i mean… someone has to come looking for us right?”

matty thinks for a moment, rolling his tongue inside his mouth, briefly catching his bottom lip between his teeth. “sure, david makes his rounds at noon.”

“noon?!” you screech and matty bursts into a fit of giggles. 

“you are so uptight!” he teases, “i’m sure the building security already noticed this absolute disaster.”

you resist the urge to deck him and take a deep breath. 

one, two, three…

another deep breath…

there we go…

“matthew—”

“oooh!”

“matty! focus!” that shuts him up for about two whole seconds before he’s trying to stifle a smile again. “how long have we been in here anyway?”

“about five minutes. why? are you not having a great time?” he winks, he actually fucking winks, and you choke on air, trying not to cough violently while matty presses a hand to his mouth and looks at you in amusement. 

“you’re laughing at me!” you accuse and that just sets him off even more. 

“if i said yes? what will you do about it?”

really what you want to do about it is wipe that insufferably gorgeous smile off his face. stupidly, you wonder what would happen if you kissed him right now… not even a grand, romantic kiss, just a random one to see how he’d react. would he blush and fluster? or would he kiss you right back just to see how long it would take you to back down. 

suddenly, the space feels so much smaller than it is. this is not what you should be focusing on right now, not your hot neighbour who flirts with everyone. you should be trying to find a way out of here, and figure out a way to reach work on time. matty seems to be bothered by none of that. 

he simply puts his gym bag down and sits on the floor of the elevator as if this were his living room. 

“don’t worry your pretty little head, sweetheart. you’ll be fine.”

you make a tiny strangled sound at the back of your throat, something that can only be described as a squeak. 

“you’re not worried at all?”

“what? after—” he checks his phone, “ten minutes? not really no. ‘sides you’re great company.” 

matty eyes you properly then, blatantly checking you out, and you wonder how insane you must look. you wonder if your hair’s all crazy and poofy and hurriedly smooth it down. 

“sit,” he suggests. 

“on the floor?” you wrinkle your nose, shuddering at the thought of all the dirt and germs crawling on the floor but matty smirks. 

“would you rather sit on my lap then?”

“oh my god!” your blood heats, “what the fuck is wrong with you!”

“alright,” he raises his hands in surrender, “thought i’d offer, y’know? considering…”

“considering…?”

“oh don’t pretend like you weren’t checking out my arse the other day.”

you sqwak indignantly, stammering out denials and gesticulating wildly while matty’s amusement grows steadily. he even has the nerve to wave you away and pretend like you aren’t blushing to your roots right now. like his nonchalance doesn’t do something funny to your chest. 

“you never even thanked me,” he teases. “i could have easily kept the package you know? real useful stuff…”

any hopes you had of him not knowing what it was drains away instantly. there’s no reason he would have that shit-eating grinning on his face if he didn’t know exactly what it was. your brain picks that exact moment to conjure up an image of him with that tiny little bullet—buzzing fills your head, along with images of matty running it along his stomach, his thighs, going lower. images of his lip caught between his teeth and his eyes rolling back. 

“you’re so–so—” you stutter, unable to come up with a single word. 

“attractive? charming? irresistible?”

“annoying!”

he clutches his chest dramatically, the tank top moves and you get a glimpse of another tattoo on his chest, one you’ve never seen before. matty’s eyes follow your gaze and his eyes twinkle playfully. 

“would you like me to take it off, sweetheart?”

your face feels like it's on fire, and you scramble to find words, any words, to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it's heading. "no, no! will you stop flirting with me for a second and focus on getting out of here?”

matty chuckles, the sound sending shivers down your spine. “you’re so fun to fluster. and what are you gonna do? pry the doors open with your bare hands?”

“if i must,” you huff and wonder if it might be too insane to at least give it a try. 

matty snorts, clearing reading the look on your face. “it’s like we’re in a rom-com—”

“ew!”

“next thing you know,” he continues as if you’d not spoken at all, “we are giving into our base urges and tearing each other’s clothes apart.”

“absolutely not, there’s a camera in the corner!”

a surprised laugh spills out of matty, sharp and high and you whip your head to him so hard you almost get whiplash. it’s the first genuine laugh you’ve heard from it, the first one that doesn’t sound like it has a hidden agenda. it’s funny and impish, it settles into your bones. and before you know it, you’re giggling along too, shaking your head at how silly the situation is. 

“she jokes!” he giggles and you roll your eyes, this time, it’s even a little affectionate. 

“fuck off. the lack of oxygen is getting to me.” 

you both snort again, exactly at the same time and it leads to another round of giggles. you’re so caught up in it that you barely even notice when the lift wobbles again and jerks up. matty jumps up. and the doors finally ding open to the corridor of the eighth floor. 

“fucking finally,” you whoop and run out of the metal contraption, doing a silly little dance the moment you’re fully outside. matty follows suit and stops to stare at you. 

his eyes are full of warmth, his mouth quirks up into another genuine smile. “maybe we should get stuck in lifts more often if this is what i get to see after.”

“shut up,” you swat at his arm, dying to feel it under your hands again, to feel the muscles tense up as you grip onto them tightly. 

“make—”

“don’t you dare!” but it’s too late, you’re already shaking your head at his antics. begrudgingly, you admit to yourself that he is pretty funny. more than that, he’s pretty fun to be around. 

maybe, possibly, you even want to be around him more. 

“so, now that we've narrowly escaped a brutal death, what's the plan?” matty asks, glancing around the hallway. you take a moment to collect your thoughts and realise that you still need to retrieve your forgotten phone and that’s it’s probably too late to go to work now. 

“i don’t even know,” you frown, “i’ll probably just call in sick from work.”

“so you’re free then.”

“i guess i am…”

“and it’s valentine’s day.”

“i guess it is…” you narrow your eyes and stare at him, at his suggestive smile and pretty face. “are you asking me out matthew?”

“so hot when you call me that.” he giggles and dances away when you try to flick him. “so violent,” he mumbles and you shake your head at him. 

“fine, yes. i am asking you out.” 

“tempting,” you stick your tongue out at him and turn away to the stairwell. “but you’ll just have to try again, pretty boy.”

you make sure to add extra sway to your hips when you walk away, feeling his very obvious and burning stare on your ass the whole time. satisfaction floods through you and you smile to yourself at how the tables have turned. 

“oh i will, sweetheart,” he calls out just as you’re about to turn round the corner, “can’t let such a pretty neighbour just get away like that.” 

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows

add yourself to the taglist

[rreskk]

Voicemail

TW: Smut

Summary:  Trevor makes sure you won’t ignore him again.

You met Trevor when participating as a getaway driver for the Paleto heist. Trevor wanted a reliable helper and Michael recommended you from the heist you did with him, before the lunatic came along.

He tried to charm you with his sexual compliments and intoxicating smile, but you made it clear you weren’t sleeping around. Especially with maniacs. Trevor faced rejections on every occasion he raised the question, ‘are you free?’, and you had the joy of watching him grow frustrated and disappointed.

As you were concentrating on evacuating the 3 men from the bank they interrogated and robbed from, you once again found yourself witnessing Trevor beg for you to listen and talk to him. You were previously giving him the silent treatment, smirking whenever he’d aim his rage at you for silencing his face to face booty calls. His attempts were cute; you’d wonder how promising he claims to be in the bedroom.

Having to hold each of their contacts for safety purposes, you all called it a night and went your own ways after the heist.

Lying on your bed and reading your book, your phone had spasms beside you. Trevor’s contact picture popped up and you read messages after messages stating his horniness and his everlasting love for you. Astonished at his commitment, you watched your phone buzz with him spamming you over messages.

The moment it died down, it began ringing.

“How desperate does he have to be?” You’d mutter before leaving the bedroom to have dinner. Your phone was left behind, physically muting it’s notifications of him from your senses.

Retreating to where you left your device ringing, your eyes scanned his contact and there was a voicemail, 30 seconds long. You’d be lying if you didn’t find him attractive. The man was hard to deny. His honey gazed eyes and upturning smile that would twist whenever he caught eyes with you. His eruptive movements and hipster clothes made him stand out than the rest. You had a damn hard time ignoring him… But you were secretly glad he has your contact.

Your thumb slowly pressed ‘play voicemail’ and you were met with silence.

Edging your ear closer, you could hear him pant and whimper from the speaker.

“This is what fuckin’ h-happens,” Trevor moans, “When you fuckin’ ignore me, huh?”

He was masturbating. Your mouth fell open, hearing him grunt and animalistically mutter your name. The slapping sensation could be heard as he mounts his hand and abuses his erected cock.

“Fuck, fuck-“

He was loud and obnoxious with his whimpers. You tilted your head, finding yourself dangerously attracted to this man as he’d growl from the other end of the phone.

“Fuckin’ call me back, babe,” He paused to express a painful moan, “I-I know you fuckin’… Mmm… I know you want it.”

As you took notice of his increase of tone, you heard him release a load in ecstasy.

“Fuucckkk! I love you!” Trevor whined.

You heard his hand stop rubbing against his skin. There was a sound of his cum hitting a surface, presumably the phone. Trevor panted and growled, his phone rustling as he moved in a rapid pace.

Suddenly, his whispers could be heard loud and clear. “Call me back, sugar. I want to hear from you again.”

The voicemail declined.

You’ve never been so fast to save a voicemail and call someone back.

[bullet-prooflove]

Sundress - Bishop Losa x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @witches-unruly-heart @anime-weeb-4-life @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @genius2050 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @spookyboogyuniverse @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @lyly00 @@oureternalbond @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u

You stand before Bishop as he sits on the edge of the couch, clad in a yellow sundress that hugs your curves and flutters around your thighs. His hands chase up the back of them, fingertips ghost along the line of your panties before he grasps that pretty little peach and pulls you closer. He bundles the material in his fist, gripping it tightly and hiking it up above your thighs so he can see those white cotton panties with that little damp spot forming at the front.

“Wet for me already.” He murmurs with approval, the heat of his breath ghosting across the moist fabric. “Am I the only one that does this to you? Gets you wet without laying a finger on you.”

“Yes Obispo.” You say, a sinful smile pulling at your features.

You know what it does to him, hearing you say his real name in that tone. It’s rare that it rolls off anyone’s lips but from yours it sounds like a god damn sonnet. He pushes his face up against your panties, breathing in the scent of your arousal.

“Say it again.” He mumbles against your clit, his lips brushing over that sensitive nub and sending a rush of pleasure erupting through your synapses. “Say my name again.”

“Obispo…” You whisper as your fingers comb through his curls, gripping them in between your fingers. “Fuck Obi, it’s just you. You’re the only one that can get me wet like this.”

Those beautiful brown eyes of his meet yours. There’s a tempest in him, he’s wild, a force of nature and he’s going down on you, his hands gripping your ass so he can keep your pussy firmly in place against his mouth.

His molten tongue traces over the shape of your clit, sucking just slightly and your knees almost buckle from the sensation. You feel can feel him smiling against the fabric when you exhale.

“That’s what I thought Mi Cielito,” he murmurs, his lips framing the words over that sensitive little bud. “There’s just me and only me right?”

“Fuck Obispo,” You drawl, your head tipping back at the sensation of his mouth on your clit. This man is going to wreck you, he’s going to take you apart until you’re in his sheets crying out his name, because that’s he wants. You. Always and only you.

“I need to hear you say it.”

It’s a concession that isn’t easy for him to make. There’s a hint of vulnerability amidst his boldness. This is Bishop giving you a part of himself, letting you catch a glimpse of the man underneath all the leather and hard edges. His wants, his needs, his fears, his doubts.

“There’s only ever you Obispo.” You tell him. “Only you in my bed and in my heart.”

It’s only when he hears those words that he takes you to pieces. Your panties are torn from your form and his mouth is on you. His tongue sweeps over your wet lips before he thrusts it deep inside. You cry out and it emboldens him, his rough palms tighten on your ass holding you in place against his greedy mouth. You writhe against him, taking everything, he can give and he watches you the whole time, those ferocious eyes of his drinking in your pleasure as he tears it from you. You come with his tongue deep inside you and his finger-marks on your tender flesh.

“You taste so fucking good Mi Cielito,” he tells you, using his palm to wipe the mess from his beard. “Like fucking honey in my mouth.”

There’s a moment of reprieve, a second to draw breath before he unbuttons his jeans and shoves them down his hips. His cock springs to attention, thick and leaking before he grasps the fabric of the sundress in both of his fists and pulls you into his lap.

You place your hands on his shoulders, fingers digging into the leather of his kutte as you give him that wicked little grin of yours. The sundress fans around your hips, draping across his muscular thighs as you take him slowly, adjusting to his girth. His head tips back, the exhale of breath emitting from his chest as you tease.

“Fuck.” He utters, his hips thrusting up closing the gap. His name rolls of your lips once more, that pretty flush creeping up your cheeks. “So, fucking tight, the perfect fucking fit.”

His hands trace over the contours of your shape as you move slowly, rocking back and forth on his dick. His fingers seek out the straps of your dress, drawing them down the slope of your shoulders so that your breasts spill out of the fabric. His arm wraps around your waist, drawing your chest flush against him. His rough palm encloses on your breast, guiding your nipple into his molten mouth. He sucks on that deviant little bud, tongue lapping over it.  

It drives you fucking crazy.

He loves you like this. Untamed, and uninhibited, the only thing you give a shit about is getting off on his cock as he fucks you all the way to nirvana. He bites down hard on your nipple and you’re done. Something inside your shatters and you clench around his dick so impossibly hard that it drags him over the edge with you. He fucks you through your orgasm, spilling his release into you as you cradle his head to your chest.

“Christ.” He mutters, his lips brushing over the love bite he’s left upon your sensitive flesh. “I don’t know what the fuck it is about you and sundresses.”

Love Bishop? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[theshinazugawaslut]

can you maybe… do sanemi with a wifey with small tits and a big ass? i know it seems random but i’m curious to see how you’ll write it! /nf

a/n: thank you for sending this! i was not very sure about what you wanted other than small tits and a big ass so that's what I gave — let me introduce sanemi being a lewd bastard, ogling you and trying to control himself, he's also kind of pathetic because when is he not? anyway, here's sanemi being weird. also, for reference, i'm big-chested and with a big ass so it might not be the best? but then again, i've never had sex and i write this shit.

You're pretty — always so pretty that it hurts.

He'd do anything for you to keep looking into his eyes; anything for your shimmering, sweet eyes to stay on his. Even when he's making love to you, little groans of your name leaving his kiss-swollen lips, he's kept a large, broad hand cupping the back of your head, fingers tangling into your hair as he keeps your head down so he can see your eyes.

Others might find it strange but he likes watching your eyes, when they roll back into your head as he keeps his hands on your hips to sink him back down onto his length as he sits up in the futon as he swallows your mouth with desperate, wet kisses.

He loves your lips, too, loves it when you open your mouth and let him prod around, even if you find it rather peculiar. He loves your mouth, all bite and sweet and his. Sometimes he likes looming over you just to press a thick finger into your mouth, feeling over your enamel and gums, sometimes pinching your tongue between two fingers just to hear the pretty choke sound you make. Your jaw remains slack though, allowing his fingers to fuck your throat, feel the inside of your soft and chubby cheeks.

"Swallow," he'll say, voice rasping and eyes becoming hazy as he sees the amount of spit gathering in your mouth, saliva begin to drool down your chin.

He'll watch, mesmerised, as your mouth closes around three of his fingers and your throat bobs, momentarily tightening around his knuckles and nails before you open you mouth again. Your pink tongue flattening as he places the pad of his index finger against it, feeling the warm, wet muscles slowly lick across it.

He was filthy for your smell, too — it made him drool like a bitch in heat, and he was always moaning against your hair as he rained kisses like rhinestone eyes across your hairline as he breathed in the scent. His rough hands holding onto your hips, blunt fingernails pressing into your plump skin as he pressed his nose against that precious crook between neck and shoulder, peppering kisses slowly down your arms, your waist, till his nostrils flare till when he reaches your drooling cunt.

"My darling girl," he'll coo, nudging his cheek against your inner thigh. "Pretty, pretty, pretty," he almost sings like a child, placing feverish kisses against your pudgy folds, sucking like a lunatic at your puffy clit till you come all over his face, and he loves being soaked in your honeyed essence, still muttering mean little praises against your cunt.

He'll gasp loudly as his face is covered in the smell of your gushing pussy, moaning like a whore for you as it drips down his chin and sharp jaw, smeared across his lips lewdly, even dripping from his hair, just for him to bury his face against your slit once more, teething against your sex, smacking his jaw against your juiced-up clit, swishing his head side-to-side as if he were a hyena ripping flesh from bone, letting out drawn-out moans and whines.

"You're doing so well, so fuckin' well, baby," he'll moan one day as he keeps his bulging arms wrapped around your neck, squeezing till you see stars as he drags his cock in and out of you on your shared futon.

This is when he likes your voice the most, when you're all strangled whimpers and silent screams as he fucks the air right out of you. "Uh-huh? You want it like this, don't ya? That's right, atta girl, take my cock, take that fat fucking cock."

His grin is lopsided against your neck as he bites hard into the supple flesh but he smacks your cheek lightly as he almost violently thrusts into your spasming cunt, watching how your mind turns to dumb cotton. "Oi, stay with me, 'm bouta cum." But he'll kiss your glittering skin like gold. "Fuckin' bitch... Got me actin' like an animal, love you so damn much."

Though as soon as you cum, he'll be gathering you in his arms, littering kisses across your face and when you reach up to touch his hot skin, he'll grab your hand, kiss each fingertip like god-given twilight.

"My love, my love," he whispers against your forehead, kissing the arch of your brow sweetly, both of you sweaty and sticky, and you're just oozing with his seed. "My sweet girl, are you alright?" His lilac eyes worriedly look at your neck, a little red forming from where he had choked you a little but as you nod, giving him a weak but content smile, he beams right back. "That's my girl..."

"You're happy...?" you'll ask in your sweet, shy voice. He'll grin, and say he's the happiest man in the world.

He loves all of you, if that wasn't obvious, loves all the sweet parts of you. Loves how you stroke the silvery, jagged scars on his chest; loves how you watch random children with tender, soft eyes, and he decides to stuff you again in hope you'll carry his child and he can kiss your plump stomach one day; loves how you forget to take your sword or your shoes with you for missions; loves how you glower at younger slayers for lacking ambition or soul; loves how you stare at flowers or stars like they were calling to you with siren song.

But sometimes he feels like a filthy animal with how much he slobbers at the sight of your small tits and big ass.

He knows all too well how you glare at him when he tries to explain his obsession with your breasts — you weren't flat like tree bark but you weren't very big-chested either so you didn't understand your husband's odd like for them.

"Doesn't stop ye moaning though," he'll hiss into your ear before ducking his red-cheeked face down to suckle on your pert nipple, his other calloused fingers squeezing at the small mounds like a hungry mutt. "Love these pretty tits of yours so damn much...."

And you know he likes your ass, always touching it; sometimes out of genuine, sheer innocence. It's just that natural to him for his large hands to rest on the rather fabulous swell of your ass as he stands next to you, though he'll be a tease and pinch it and grin when you yelp and go hot with embarrassment as he grins like a man man.

Though you've gotten used to him trailing around after you in the estate, sometimes patting your ass like a fucking bongo drum as you cook and he talks to you casually. Sometimes he'll take his chopstick and keep poking at your bum, smiling innocently when you turn around to pinch his nose affectionately.

But right now, he feels kind of bad for salivating.

You're not even dressed up, nor are you doing anything particularly special. Simply wearing a matching slayer uniform with him, haori and all, though he insists that you keep your gakuran shirt all buttoned up so that nobody stares (that's his job anyway) which you do per his request.

But he feels vile right now and he knows he looks madder than usual as you and a few younger slayers investigate a certain village today, waiting till the stars begin to twinkle to hunt down the demon.

You keep staring at him too and you're making it worse. Hell, he keeps blinking slowly as if reality isn't really making sense to him because why the fuck does your uniform look so nice on you? The swell of your ass still incredibly prominent despite the flowing hakama.

He wants to touch you, bend you over wherever, whenever but he can't because he'd never, never do that to you. You're too sweet, too innocent (he supposes) for that.

"Sanemi, are you alright?" you ask him, the back of your hand coming to touch his forehead, knuckles brushing past his brow as you worry about his feverish state, and just the touch of your hand has him reeling. "'Nemi, honey?"

"'m- 'm f-fine," he says through gritted teeth, trying not to moan at just the sensation of you checking his temperature; his eyes are more bloodshot than usual, becoming pinpricks as they look at you. He reaches up so that broad fingertips can light graze your jaw, he repeats with a forced smile, "'m fine, doll..."

You don't look convinced but you walk just a few steps ahead of him, using your sweet voice to guide the younger slayers, and it's like you're doing it on purpose. The audacity. Walking in front of him, where he has perfect view of your ass, why did god give him such a perfect wife?

The mission itself went well, the kakushi cleaning up as always, and after tending to a wounded slayer. You notice your husband hadn't returned from the forest and so, you panic.

Your strong legs running through the thicket of trees, uncaring of the darkness that envelopes the forest, even with the glittering tendrils of moonlight slipping through the foliage, casting an eerie glow.

"Sanemi!" you yell out, adrenaline pumping in your veins at the thought something might have happened to your husband, your uniform occasionally getting stuck in brambles but you truly don't care, simply letting it shred through the fabric. "'Nemi? Sanemi! God, 'Nemi, where are you?! 'Nemi-"

You shriek as you're grabbed as you run past the trunk of a particularly thick tree but a familiar, warm hand covers your mouth, desperately kissing your temple like sin.

"Fuck, 'm sorry," Sanemi sobs against your ear, hand now snaking around your chest to grope at your small tits, other hand reaching down to touch your ass and squeeze. His throat is raw, almost as though it's been ripped apart, voice shredded. "'m sorry, dolly, 'm sorry- I'm filthy, I'm so fuckin' filthy but I wanna touch you so fuckin' bad."

You realise very quickly that your husband had come over here to jack off in the middle of the dark forest, his hakama barely pulled down his thick, muscle-corded thighs. His dick strained against you and he moaned loudly as your clothed body brushed against it, panting into your ear.

"Oh, 'Nemi..." you say softly. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry, 'm sorry, jus' fuck me, please, I beg you, just- Shi-hiit," he whines as you turn around in his arms, looking at him through spotted moonlight.

God, he looks insane: eyes blown wide and bloodshot, jaw going slack as he looks at your pretty eyes, mouth, skin, tits, heart, soul- He surges forward, trying to desperately kiss you, grabbing onto your ass as his dick slaps against his stomach. He looks so fucked.

"Can- can I?" he croaks out and as you nod, allowing him to unbotton your shirt. "All for me?"

You nod and all that's left is for Sanemi to hoist you up against a tree, meaty forearms easily hooking under your thighs and pressing you against it as he slobbers over your tits and trembles against you, he's all but crying and whimpering as his throbbing, heavy cock splits you in two.

The pace he goes at is feral and he's huffing against your neck, letting out wanton moans as his balls clap against your ass, dragging you up and down his cock.

You feel so fucking good and god, it's all for him.

The thought makes him paint your insides white.

[mesillusionssousecstasy]

Culpa Mía (My fault): Quotes

“- Noah? Isn’t that a boy’s name? (Nick) - Your limited vocabulary doesn’t include the word “unisex”? (Noah)

“- It’s fine. My evening was going to be dull... Now we’ll have something to laugh about.” (Nick)

“- What are you doing? (Noah) - What’s your problem now? (Nick) - I don’t want to die because of a lunatic who can’t drive.” (Noah)

“- You wouldn’t dare. (Nick) - The perfect boy, huh? Damn. You’ve really fooled everyone. (Noah) - I’m perfect in many ways, honey. (Nick) - Modesty isn’t one of them.” (Noah)

“- If you were capable of having emotions, you’d appreciate it.” (Noah)

“- I put you into bed and lots of things happened. (Nick) - You didn’t touch me. That’s what a psychopath would do. You’re more twisted, Nick Leister.” (Noah)

“- Get drunk and make out with some guy?” Or the other way around? Depends on how hot he is.” (Jenna)

“- Stop scaring away everyone who comes near me.” (Noah)

“- Sorry I’m not as complicated as you, racing cars to prove who has a bigger one.” (Noah)

“- Hey, Will! Which one? (Rafaella) - Both are beautiful. (Will) - I’ll tell the designers, but which one should I wear?” (Rafaella)

“- Hey, you know Rodrigo wants to be my boyfriend? (Nick’s sister) - The blond? What will you tell him? (Nick) - No. (Nick’s sister) - Good girl! You’ll only get heartbroken. Do what I do, sis, run away before it’s too late. (Nick) - I have two boyfriends already. Why would I want three?” (Nick’s sister)

“- Don’t let me do this again. (Nick) - Wait, you get close to me and I have to prevent it? (Noah) - I don’t know what’s happening to me.” (Nick)

“- Betty didn’t mean anything. I missed you and she reminded me of you.” (Dan)

“- If our parents catch us it’ll be game over. (Nick) - Is that what you want? (Noah) - No. You? (Nick) - No.” (Noah)

“- Honey, did something happen with Dan? (Rafaella) - No. I just didn’t expected to see him so soon. I was some sort of emotional jet lag. I’ll be fine.” (Noah)

“- He’s after you. You have to stop going out alone. (Nick) - So do you. (Noah) - I’m serious. (Nick) - So am I. (Noah) - Well, let’s stop going out alone. Both of us. (Nick) - Not the most romantic way to say you want to spend more time with me. (Noah) - Do you want to spend more time with me? (Nick) - I can’t. Dan’s still here. (Noah) - Do you still have feelings for him? (Nick) - Does it hurt? (Noah) - We’re being bad again, Freckles. (Nick) - Do you want me to stop? Are you sure you can resist? Why do we girls always get hooked on the bad boys? You’re cocky, liars and you’re violent. (Noah) - You’re wrong. I’m not like that.” (Nick)

“- No! I don’t want Anna to rip my eyeballs out. (Noah) - This had never happened to me with Anna or anyone else. It’s the first time I can’t control myself. (Nick) - Mario is waiting for me. What does he want from you? (Nick) - I just know he smiles when he sees me. (Noah) - Are you going to settle for a smile? (Nick) - Until our faces hurt. (Noah) - That guy has no blood in his veins. He can’t give you what you need. (Nick) - What do I need? (Noah) - You don’t need kisses, you need volcanic eruptions in your mouth. You don’t need caresses, you need furrows burying in deeply until you shiver. Vertigo-inducing whispers in your ear. You don’t need pleasure, you need shivers.” (Nick - Sorry it’s beyond nonsense).

“- Isn’t it exciting? (Nick) - Getting hurt excites you? (Noah) - Pain doesn’t bother me. (Nick) - And your opponent? Do you enjoy hurting others? (Noah) - No, I just like to fight. (Nick) - Well, I don’t get it. (Noah) - It’s a way to blow off steam. (Nick) - From what? What trauma do you have that’s making you do this?” (Noah)

“- What the fuck do you think you’re doing? (Noah) - I don’t know. I’ve never felt jealous of anyone before. You drive me crazy. (Nick) - So this is all you can offer me? This can’t eve happen again. (Noah) - I swear I won’t do it again. (Nick) - No, nothing can happen between us. Ever again. (Noah) - What? Why? What’s wrong? (Nick) - You’re hurting me. (Noah) - Stop messing with my head. (Nick) - What’s wrong with you? Don’t you see? I’m scared. (Noah) - Scared of what? (Nick) - Besides the dark, like a little girl. Of you. I can’t have a violent person in my life again.” (Noah

“- Where are all the cool guys who whisper you sweet things? (Jenna) - Those guys don’t exist. (Noah) - Yeah. (Jenna) - See? Why can’t they say “I love you”? They say “I love you” before sleeping with you. but what they mean is “I want you”. (Noah) - Exactly. (Jenna) - Of course, then they cum and go quiet. Mistake! You have to say it after! That’s when it means something not before.” (Noah)

“- Why do you make it so hard for me to hate you? (Noah) - I would do everything to you, Noah, you know that. But we won’t do anything until there’s no fear left in your eyes.” (Nick)

“- All of this was my fault. Instead of leaving you stranded that day, I should’ve kissed you. If I’d known earlier about your dad... But you know I’d never hurt you. You know that. (Nick) - They know about us. There’s not time for apologies. (Noah) - If loving each other is a sin, then yes, we’re guilty. No. I couldn’t bear it if these were our last kisses. (Nick) - These kisses will last forever. If this is going to be the last time, why don’t we make it our first, too? Just promise me we will never forget it.” (Noah)

“- Are you trying to kill us? (Noah’s father) - Does it matter? We’re already dead.” (Noah)