#like for realll

[ladynicte]

I just know Nico was kicking his feet and twirling his little dark curls the night Percy remembered him on New Rome

[sadderdaazee]

“Daddy’s Best Friend”

♡︎> toji fushiguro (listen to florida kilos by lana del rey or the playlist linked) <♡︎

it felt odd. a little exciting. a little impish. with teetering silence brimming in your throat, your eyes drool against him.

on a sad, sad, fortunate evening, when your father was out on an unplanned business meeting to algeria, his best-friend of two years finds you alone in the house.

he had plans with your father, to play shoji with him and sip on some extra expensive wine, but fate has different plans for him.

and while you see the man standing by your doorway, a little arch pulling his right brow up, you're composed.

so, so composed.

that's what you tell yourself when you invite him inside the house.

and oh, he knows. he definitely knows. if he didn't, why would he walk in anyway?

"sir," so you say, voice low in a purr. its so low, so graveling, so seductive.

because in the twenty-two years of your life, you've never wanted a man to fuck you as bad as when you met toji.

it was a beautiful nocturne, moon's eloquent rays peeking by the expensive restaurant's window. a family dinner. and it was also your twentieth birthday, with your daddy's rich shenanigans to spoil you perfectly, he hosted a family dinner. a family dinner where your father also introduced his new friend, which so happened to be toji. when his eyes met yours, you knew this toji would be the death of your sanity.

now, your distance with your daddy's best friend is close. almost unfamiliarly close. a kind of close where you can smell his cologne but not enough to feel his searing skin.

then he sits by the sofa, and you sit right next to him. so close, your bare thighs touch his own.

"tryna seduce me, l/n?" he replies, voice as sultry as yours.

this isn't unfamiliar to him. he's grown. known. he can read people. women. their intentions. and he can clearly read yours. well, he has been reading yours since he first met you.

his elbows are by his knees in a confident way, fingers entwined among each other.

he doesn't know why he stays, what he waits for. but he stays. his chin is by his shoulder and his eyes are on you.

"brilliant job trying to guess, mr. toji. but you're wrong." you sip into his eyes.

his eyebrows raise, an almost cocky curve tugging by his smirk. you lean a little till your hands find his shoulder.

"i can read your eyes, l/n. read that look. i'm older, less naïve." he says, eyes running through yours to your lips.

"what look, sir?"

"really, sweetheart?" a smirk again. "you wanna play it this way, hmm?"

"think you know that well, sir." your eyes linger by his lips, a coquettish drag of desire falling against them.

he sighs.

"your father is my friend," agitation drapes his voice when he feels your breath pool on his lips.

"such a saint." your eyes meet his in a sarcastic manner, and for a moment, he's holding back. hating himself for even getting in this situation.

but he's not a man of morals, and definitely not someone who lets opportunities burn.

"fuck," he whimpers. "c'mere," so his lips are on yours. the crave for his hands and the ache of him finally slowly burning, his spark embedding with your inflammable desire.

his lips love to kiss your neck, and his hands find your body like a lost lamb. they trace. draw. paint. an eager hold of his searing palms under your loose shirt, as he's pulling it up.

you're wearing nothing underneath. and he's shocked. toji never knew he was friends with the father of a slut.

his fingers pinch your nipples, palms grope your tits. his lips write their soliloquies against yours, much more desperate than yours.

"what've you done t'me," his lips find your neck again, and he pulls your shirt up till your collar. his kisses drip between your tits, over the supple flesh of them and finally against the perky nubs. he sucks with fervor, eyes drawn lazy with lust as they waltz by your face. you're laying on your back on the sofa, his knee between your legs and other on the ground. "so fucking beautiful."

"not worried about d-mmh-dad anymore, hmm?" you coo mockingly as his lips trail down and lower.

"what can i do when y'such a dirty little whore, hmm?" he says, head trailed between your thighs.

his scorching breath loiters by your groin, a shiver sprinting across your bones and settling somewhere in your core.

"gonna take this off," he's breathless as his fingers hook and slide off your panties, your fingers desperately lacing among his strands of hair. you softly mutter a moan in response, an ethereal gesture dripping like honey through his ears. and toji never knew someone's voice could unravel such thoughts in him. he wants to devour you and make you sing his favorite chorus of moans.

his lips softly kiss your inner thigh, palms groping the supple flesh of your outer thigh as you let out a breath of desperation.

for once, he just stares at your pussy, like a man thanking the heavens above.

then his lips are slowly finding their way by your lower lips. he softly kisses your slit without hesitation and you swear all the breath among your lungs had vanished when he did.

his kisses are gentle, soft, dripping like honey against your slit as he furtively looks up.

"fuck, toji," you caress his hair between your fingers as he slowly kisses his way up your pussy.

the kiss he plants by your clit is a little harder than the rest, and he smirks. smirks when he feels how sensitive you are as your thighs involuntarily close around his head.

"keep your legs open for me," he breathes, spreading apart your legs. "good, y'doing so good for me." his voice is a purr as his thumb meets your slick slit, spreading it out to gain more access to you. he kisses again, a little harsher than before than has you breathing heavily.

he's waited wayyy to damn long to have this.

he pushes his tongue out, not being able to resist the urge to feel and taste you on his tongue any longer. and if he had been addicted to something before, it'd be nothing compared to the taste of you. he's addicted.

your arousal slips on his tongue, and he has to lick again. and again. and again, till he's pushing his tongue inside your pussy while you're gripping on his hair and messing all over his face. your back is slightly arching, trembling when his lips wrap around your clit.

"that's it toji," you pull on his hair and for a moment, his eyes close, relishing within your taste. "fuuck..."

but he's more of a grunter. grunting into your pussy and moaning like that's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted.

he's silent, tongue speaking the loudest words of pleasure at your cunt, lips hard sucking at your clit. his fingers find their way, from drooling by your thighs from keeping your legs spread to falling by your slit.

he loves it. your moans. your taste. and fuck, he wishes he'd fucked you the day he met you because shit. he's fucked by your taste.

your honey leaks by his lips and he has to pull back for a breath, finger still massaging your folds up and down.

"fuckin' filthy," he licks his lips and drinks you all. his fingers move and slither into your pussy with ease. it has you gasping. trembling for air because although you've fingered yourself on many instances before, the stretch of his big fingers were just something different. "n' tight. startin' to think you're not as much of a whore as i thought."

"why, don't you like running your mouth a whole lot," you sneer through your fluster. your eyes meet his and he chuckles, taking his finger out of your cunt.

the ache of his touch rattles among your hips as you find a small whine falling by your lips. before you get to whine and mourn the lost feeling, his hand meets your pussy in a spank.

"oh my— shit," you moan, and find that his he had added two more fingers into your vagina. he's fingering you with three of his fingers ruthlessly, lips wrapped tight around your clit and tongue relentlessly flicking it. you're a mess, but he likes it messy.

he likes you messy.

he curls his fingers upwards as the tip of them meets your sweet spot.

and oh, how he's proved how much he loves to run his mouth on you.

you're closing to your climax, fingers threaded into his melting strands of hair that feel like silk under your touch. and he keeps ravaging like a man starved, the greed for you finally relenting when you chant his name and feel his fingers go in and out at a pace.

"cum for me, let me taste you." he must've said but you're melting like a wax with no coherence, deaf to your surroundings as your orgasm approaches. and it approaches intensely. his fingers don't stop their motion, fingering you faster as you finally reach the point.

you moan when you orgasm, and you feel it so, so deeply within your bones and nerves. with your heart erratically thundering beneath your ribs and your ears ringing, you still feel his touch even when he's kissing your lips through your ecstasy.

"there, there," he kisses you more and then goes down on you again. not to ravage but to drink everything you've elicited from your pussy. "you're doing so good for me sweetheart." he licks everything up as every swipe of his tongue gathers your sensitivity.

his words soothe you through your orgasm as your breaths fall heavy.

"fuck," and when you're finally back to reality, you sit up. "never knew you would've been so good at this..."

your gaze drags from his chuckle to his crotch, his hard erection threatening to poke through the fabric of his clothes. so you fall to your knees, your shirt falling and covering your body.

but that's not what he wants.

"no, sugar. think that's enough for today." his finger meets your chin, making you look up at him from between his legs. and your eyes, fuck, they're the most beautiful ocean of flaming fire he's ever decided to burn himself upon. and he was hard. so achingly hard that he has to question if he's ever been this aroused before.

"but i haven't even—"

"no, you listen to me." anew sort of agitation drapes his voice. a kind you know that he's aching to not hold back. "we can't continue this. your da—"

"please," your desperate words twist something within his gut, and fuuck his cock. it aches to be touched. touched by you. his carnal gaze drinks upon your sultry words melting into the way you seem so vulnerable to him.

he looks down, and your pleading features wrecks his conscience. shatters till the shards are seeping and slicing into his skin. because suddenly, he's pulling you so harshly against his lips, hands sliding beneath your ribs and circling around your limbs.

your eyes widen, and in a whim, you're kissing him back, hands on either sides of his thighs.

you kiss deeply. so deeply, you think your lips might swell.

and toji has never been so lost in a kiss before as he is now. with such passion, he has to question his own sanity.

his fervor entwines with your own in soliloquies. he loves it. you love it.

your hands are trembling by his jaw and neck, carving your desires by his lips. you can almost taste yourself on his lips.

"why can't you understand," he says among breathless kisses, "i will ruin you. this will ruin us.

"ruin me then," your replies steep under the cries of pleas. you want this. and you want this so badly, "ruin us, toji."

he pulls you up from your knees till you're sitting on his lap, kissing intensely.

"god... y/n," he breathes in a swoon of agitation, trailing his kisses to your jaw as you arch in his warm hold. "you're making this so hard for me."

"once," your pleas, your eyes, the look on your face — he just can't fucking resist it. resist the way you're furtively grinding your bare pussy on his clothed cock with that gaze, with that desperation. "please."

and if you knew how his own desperation pars your own, you'd be surprised.

you're intoxicating. and he's a drunkard.

so he says fuck it to his conscience.

his grip on the curve of your waist grows taut, a small stifled moan leaving your lips as you continue to grind on him.

after all, he too is a man who sins.

he kisses the side of your neck in a manner of subtle affection and in a swift motion, he takes off your top, kisses between your breasts with such fervent breaths, you're sure that's gonna leave a bruise.

he pulls away for a second, panting against your lips as he tilts his face, eyes desperately drooling against your lips, "speak of this to anyone and i'll—"

"i won't." you say as if swearing upon your life. he chuckles, falling into your chest again. his eyes are sultry, half lidded as if so drunk.

he licks, sucks your breasts with greedy licks and kisses them more. your hands are falling to his belt, and he moans softly, voice rumbling beneath your bones and heart.

his head falls by your shoulder, eyes meeting where your hands unbuckle his belt.

"you seem so inexperienced," he chuckles, kissing your shoulder to whisper within your ear, "sure you can handle me?"

you fluster upon his words, taking in a breath to flush it out. "wanna help me find out." a smirk kisses your expression, and he loves it.

by now, you can feel his cock. its rigid. warm. heavy. your touch against his length sears his skin, and he lets out an agitated impatient gasp.

and you're surprised.

it falls by your stomach, and your pussy clenches.

his touch is sultry, even when he's slowly lifting you by your hips, eyes on yours with such intensity, you almost float by his gaze.

"take it," he breathes, and you nod. he rubs his tip over your lower lips, back and forth till he's generously sinking into your pussy inch by inch.

the stretch just by his tip is delicious, albeit painful. and he knows it would be painful, so despite his licentious urges, he lets you take him in slowly.

by when you're fully sheathed atop his cock and he's bottomed out fully into your tight, tight walls, you're breathing in unison, bodies almost one together. toji's eyes meet yours again.

something's so oddly sensual about you, that he can't help but fall into your ludicrous antics. something so dreamy about you, he just can't help but moan into your feeling.

"y'so fucking tight," his head falls back on the headrest of the sofa, eyes closed as his hands grip your hips.

"you're too fucking huge," you grunt in both pleasure and pain, trying to move against his cock, but his grip on your hips cease your movements.

"stay like this for a moment, please." he's whimpering.

you flinch, and so does your pussy. so deliciously that toji has to take a moment to catch his breath .

then he's lifting you up by your hips, and harshly slamming you onto his cock. it hurts so good that you almost urge to cum against him then and there itself.

"s'tight but still swallowing my cock," he grunts as you fall into a fit of moans. "aren't you a pretty girl."

and before you know it, he's laying you on your back, placing one leg over his shoulder, pushing and pulling out of your pussy. so harshly, it tickles your lower abdomen.

"fuuck baby," he moans, "takin' me so, so well. my cock's fucking stretching you out but you're just takin' it."

"yes, fuck, fuck, yes right there-" you gasp, feeling his tip graze a certain spot that has a vaguely familiar sensation stirring into your abdomen.

"makin' me feel sooo good," he moans, his hands falling by your face and tucking the wayward strands of your hair behind your ear, taking your chin between his fingers, "look at me, fuck, look at me, pretty."

"yes, fuuck, i'm so fucking close toji, fuck, fuck," his pace is animalistic as he goes raw on you, thrusting so deeply that his tip kisses your cervix.

“fuck baby, gonna cum. gonna pump you full." but before he can even say another word, you clench around him so impossibly, it's almost hard for him to thrust deeper.

you hit your orgasm as you pull him in and kiss his neck to soothe the flinches and stutters coming with the orgasm, the electricity running across your spine and rattling every bone within your body.

his arms circle around your waist as he groans, finally letting himself go. his cock stutters and swells into your walls, till he's filling your pussy with his cum. his thumb slowly strokes your cheek, slowing his pace as he groans and lets him fall through his own high.

then he pulls out, watching his tip pop out of your puffy slit. his cum trickles out of your pussy, dripping on the sofa as you sigh, settling within the breaths among your ribs.

"y/n? are you home, honey?" fuck. your dad.

[minionsunclee]

What an episode, huh

[buqbite]

The Living Flame for the @orvwomenzine

[blackxones]

percy jackson hasn't stopped trending since the first two episodes dropped i fear we have found the crown jewel of the next decade of television

[katsrinn]

a hero, a warrior, and a kid make a bittersweet perfect family.

[koiisure]

"Out of all of them you remind me of him the most"

[fudgecake-charlie]

[beachbummrr]

sometimes i realize im talking abt a mf named wilbur soot of all things like can u get any more storybook fairytale character than that name and then his hobbies he plays guitar he likes geography and history cats love him he writes and tells story like yeah i bet u fucking do. i bet u do. disney princess mf. Grow up.

[chandralia]

WHAT?????

[cuubism]

"Nice place you have here," says Desire, sliding into the booth opposite Hob.

Hob, unfortunately, recognizes them by voice alone. Desire speaks with the melody of an arpeggio, smoothed into oblivion by the sustained press of a piano pedal. Drag without release, in comparison to Dream's resounding deep notes.

"Never seen you here before," Hob says, instead of get out of my pub. He doesn't actually need to start a fight.

"I've decided to respect my brother's play set for now," Desire says archly, as if this is a huge consideration on their part. "He's been through so much recently, after all."

"And you've been so much help with that," Hob says.

Something dangerous flashes briefly in Desire's eyes, and Hob remembers how fickle they can be. Like fire, Dream had said.

Then it subsides. "Careful, Robert," they say easily, leaning on their hand, "one might think you've chosen a side."

No thinking about it, Hob thinks. "Families shouldn't have sides."

"Oh, ours isn't supposed to," Desire agrees. "And yet."

And yet. "Is there something in particular that has you breaking your self-imposed generosity today?"

It's one day before his and Dream's usual meeting, after all. That can't be a coincidence. Technically, they meet all the time now, but they always keep June 7th for nostalgia's sake.

"I simply enjoy the atmosphere," says Desire, leaning back in their chair. They thrust out a hand, and a rainbow flag flutters off the wall into their grasp, drawn by their whims. Desire drapes it over their shoulders.

"I guess that makes sense," Hob says.

Desire raises an eyebrow.

Hob gestures at them. "Desire. Isn't that your thing?"

They give him a crafty smile, a little teeth, that suggests Hob's going to learn something he may not entirely like. "Well, it is certainly of interest to me."

"Of interest," Hob echoes. Might as well say fire was "of interest" to a pyromaniac. "Isn't that what you do? Dream makes dreams, and..." he trails off.

"I am Desire," they say. "So, in a way, I feel all desires at all times. Yes, even yours, Robert." They pat him on the cheek, and wink. "I know what you feel."

Hob's cheeks heat, but Desire doesn't linger on it, thankfully.

"But, my own desire? Hm, no, not in the way you would think."

"But you--" Hob doesn't know how to phrase the confusion in his mind.

Desire runs their tongue along their lower lip. "Are you calling me a slut, Robert?"

"Would take one to know one, I suppose," Hob says before he can even think about it, and Desire laughs, bright and loud.

"You are so cute. You would be delicious if you weren't obsessed with Dream. But, no. I can feel desired," Desire says, emphasizing the past tense. The objective nature of it. "But that, while certainly tasty, is not quite the same as feeling it oneself, now is it?"

What might it be like, Hob thinks, feeling a pang of sympathy for them despite how they've treated Dream, how he'd automatically marked them as an enemy in his mind, to be surrounded by wanting and not be able to feel it?

"I... guess not," he says. "So you don't want anything?"

Desire shrugs. "I enjoy things. But if I can't have them, it simply passes like--" they pull off the flag and let it flutter to the floor "-- a gust of wind. And I move on to something else. Otherwise, I chase others' desires. Your inn is full of them. Desires for peace, for belonging, for change and magic and-- yes, lust, too, but more of an undertone. It is..." they run their tongue over their teeth, thinking. "Aromatic."

"What does desire 'taste' like?" Hob asks.

"Why don't you tell me," Desire says.

"I'm not going to lick you," Hob says, and Desire cackles.

"Open offer," they say. "Be all metaphorical like Dream, then."

"Alright, fine." Hob decides to indulge them, because he has actually learned something interesting today. "It's like... the smell of a good meal. You don't quite... taste it, exactly? But you can imagine tasting it."

"Good answer," says Desire, and steals his drink for a sip. "I knew I could count on you to listen, Hob."

Hob's not sure if it's the tone, like something long undecided has now been settled, or if it's the use of his old nickname, but suddenly the afternoon tilts, and Hob realizes with a swoop in his stomach that they're here for a purpose, and not just poking at Dream.

The Endless almost never communicate directly, Hob knows this. Goddammit.

"I've spent a lot of time in these sorts of places, you know," Desire says, gesturing around. "They are right--" they interlace their fingers in example "--in the center of my realm."

"Depending on the year, I would have thought you and Despair together," Hob says, wary now that he's realized this is coming to some sort of point.

"A common assumption," Desire says, nodding like a teacher whose student is getting on the right track. "See, people often think my twin and I are opposites. Desire, Despair." They hold out both hands separately again, then clasp them. "But they don't have it right. Hope is the opposite of Despair. Do you know what the opposite of Desire is?" They reach across the table to tap their sharp nails against his sternum. "Shame."

"And that's... part of your domain, as well?" Hob guesses.

"Indeed. Who could know shame as well as one who desires? They both--" they lay their hand flat to his heart "--live here."

Hob supposes he himself has had plenty of desires over the years, and plenty of shame too -- though not necessarily over the same matters.

"Hence," they spread their hands wide, "my presence. The duality of Desire."

"So what do you do?" Hob asks. "When you're here because of shame, I guess."

"I am always both," says Desire. "But." They smile sweetly, and it actually does look sweet, for once. "I am merely here to hold your hand."

Hob must look at them with an expression of vague disgust, for they snort and roll their eyes.

"Not you, Robert. You!" They gesture broadly at the entire inn. "Death is always going on and on about serving humanity. I know how to do my job too, you know."

They frown at him, at the idea he might think otherwise, and it's-- it's actually kind of sweet, how much they care about this. It really is.

"That's sweet," he says, and Desire grumbles. Hob can't help but smile.

"I take the charge of those who live in the heart of Desire very seriously," they sniff. Their gaze slants over Hob's shoulder, watching something across the room. "Relatedly, if that man at the bar follows through on his desire to say something homophobic to those children on their date, I am going to shoot him."

"Ooookaaayyy," Hob says, snapping his fingers in front of their eyes until their attention turns back to him. Hob's bartender will handle any issues; he would really rather not have an Endless making a scene.

Desire smiles placidly at him. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Desire and shame go hand in hand. Almost like dreams and nightmares, you might say."

Hob goes still again, on instinct. "Right."

"My sister and I are very close, even if we are not, actually, opposites. Dream and I were close, once." They drag their finger around the rim of Hob's glass. "Wanting. Dreaming. So similar, and yet, so different, too. It hurts, to really let yourself want what you've dreamt of. It hurts to desire, don't you think? It's sharp, like a blade."

"Yes," Hob says. "It is."

"Mmm. But shame... shame is like a heavy, warm blanket. It makes you want to just--" they mime pulling fabric over their head-- "disappear. My brother and I have a very complicated relationship. Perhaps, one day, we will be on better terms again, and he can tell me about his desires, and I can tell him about my dreams. I would love to know what it feels like."

Hob isn't sure if he's putting the pieces of this meandering conversation together correctly, but whatever he is picking up on, he doesn't like the sound of.

"Dream is always going on and on and on and on about the importance of dreams and it's so annoying but you know what? I'm starting to think he's right." They give Hob a warning glance. "Do not tell him I said that. But, yes, I'm afraid that desires without dreams hand in hand are just--" they slide their hand across the table and let it stop at the edge. "Impotent. Static. And god knows what good dreams even are without desire but Dream will never admit that."

"So you're what," Hob says, even though he knows this is not what this is about, "trying to mending fences?"

Desire smiles sunnily. "I just want him to call me. I'm bored, and he's spent far too much time in my sister's realm recently."

Then they stand in one fluid motion.

"What are you saying," Hob asks. He feels sort of faint, whiplashed.

"Oh, I've said nothing, I'm doing nothing. I merely don't want to have to fill an empty seat next June, that is all. I'll be far too busy." They wink, and then they're gone.

Hob sits still for a long time, after. He's still not sure he understood... all of that. He understands that the Endless aren't supposed to interfere in each other's affairs and that sometimes riddles result.

What he does understand is that if Desire, of all people, has decided to be helpful, then he definitely has something to be concerned about. Something he needs to do something about.

He shakily drains the rest of his glass, then stands. Hob has never gotten anywhere by being static.

Time to go try to do something about it.

[disformer]

I truly feel you on not really being able to enjoy idw transformers for rewriting so many characters as cops. Hoping the newest comic series doesn't keep all the cop job rewrites. Optimus prime doc worker supremacy!

IDWs AHM and Infiltration era runs were huffing so much early 2000s Epic Military sentiment out of paper bags that i had to read it with my phone abt 2 ft from my face or i’d feel oily

[bigboobyhalo]

You know what you're doing and you know all these nsfw jokes are actually very boundary breaking, it seems like you never actually cared.

they weren’t lying, there really are twitter users moving to tumblr

[urbanflorals]

murder should be socially acceptable

[dogt-eeth]

Heyyy Turtle Fans,,,

[Image ID: A drawing of Leo, from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, as a human and in the pose of Fallen Angel, by Alexandre Cabanel. He's japanese, with dark tan skin. He has dark birthmarks where his usual stripes would be: over his eyes and on the sides of his arms. His hair is dark brown, almost black, and is dyed blonde at the ends. The roots have begun to grow out. His eyes are dark brown. Lightning flashes behind him, and it's storming out. He's scowling. End ID.]

[murdrdocs]

gn j hutch / m schmidt nation here is a tt as me signing off

PEETAS FUCKING SMOLDER ON THAT CARRIAGE ??