#she was on duty

[incoherentscreaming101]

all rapists should combust and die immediately actually

[stargirlstabber]

imagine alpha!simon riley ruthlessly rutting his strong hips into you from behind. his massive hand pushes your head down as you moan and cry into the pillow, your drool slowly soaking the fabric. and that is not the only thing that's getting soaked. your tight cunt is soaking wet, literally dripping around your alpha's cock, milking him, eager for his knot. as well as the soaked sheets. mostly from your sweet release squirting out of you while simon never once stops pistoning his thick length into you. you just take what your alpha gives you, loosing count of how many times you already came. but don't worry, your alpha keeps track of that, he always counts your releases out loud for you to hear. if your cockdrunk brain can even grasp the information. once he rumbles out a two digit number, you ask yourself how you're even alive with the way he's fucking you.

[tsukuyomiland]

She doesn't want to be there

[oifaaa]

It's funny how opinions can change over time for instance I used to want Bruce to be a good parent but then I realised how fucking boring that is to read at the end of the day comics are soap operas and I'm here for the drama

[emily-e-draws]

this dynamic is so important to me

[ilions-end]

i'm listening to the elizabeth vandiver great courses lectures (my comfort audios <3) and i'm currently on her series on the odyssey. i love whenever she points out assumptions a modern reader might unknowingly bring with them when engaging with ancient texts.

one of her examples is how challenging it is in modernity to fully grasp how impossible penelope's position is. she's a good, dutiful woman with a husband who is M.I.A, but has no way of knowing odysseus' status, or which duties she's obligated to pursue. if her husband is currently alive, she has an absolute duty to preserve his household and herself until he returns. if odysseus is dead, she has an equally absolute duty to swiftly remarry and dedicate herself to a new household. she doesn't live in a society where she can live alone as a widow (or potential widow), only as a wife of someone living.

and i'm thinking about how our perception of her situation is also shaped by how we know odysseus is alive and will return. there's also the fact that the suitors are rude and dangerous -- we certainly don't want her to end up with any of them. so the trickery with the weaving of the shroud comes across as ingenious and morally justified to us... but penelope can't be sure. if odysseus had been dead, the shroud trick would be doubly damning on a societal and moral level -- both for delaying her sacred obligation to form a new family, and for using her feminine skills and resources on her "previous" family (since the shroud was made for laertes).

penelope is trapped in moral limbo throughout most of the odyssey, where every action she takes (or doesn't take) is either absolutely correct and conscientious OR horrifically immoral and shameful, and the key piece that determines which is which is lost at sea somewhere.

[nenayaquisieras]

Simon has always been confused on why you gift him toys. Sure, most of the gifts you gave him were some of the things he liked. Bourbon, masks, gloves, make up for him to smudge his eyes with, some daggers and knives. Things that we're useful for him, just him. But later, you gifted him a toy airplane. He makes a comment about it, saying he is not a child anymore and you were better off giving it to Johnny instead.

"No, this is specifically for you, take it."

When he gets to him room, he walks toward his trash can, opening it with the tip of his boot. He gives one more look at the toy, his mood souring before throwing it into the trash. He goes on about his day, training, signing paper work, drills. Doing anything to ignore the pain stinging memories that the toy brought back. Emotions that were buried thousands of feet deep it could reach hell itself. Later, he lies awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, avoiding looking at the cylinder shape that's calling for him in his peripheral.

Fuck.

He pulls the covers off vigorously and stomps over to the trash can. He is standing over it like he's trying to intimidate it, as if it was an enemy he's trying to get rid of in battle. To anyone else, the scene would look comical.

He sighs to himself and reaches down to take out the toy he so cruelly threw away. He sets it on his desk and quickly walks toward his bed, facing away from his desk.

The next day, he wakes up feeling different. He swears he sees his room more vibrant, more lively. That energy follows him through out the day, having his other teammates notice his rather bright mood.

You catch him in the hallway. Pulling him aside to ask him about the paper work you left at his desk this morning. Of course, he notices the way you smile brightly, more so than usual. But he notices that you're not looking at him. More like looking at something next to him.

"What's got you so cheery?"

You turn to look up at him, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"I just..." You take a quick glance at the spot next to him, before bringing your eyes back upon his.

"I just hope you liked your gift." The same bright smile appearing on your face.

He stares at you, examining your words. Your expression.

You think you see his eyes crinkle a bit.

"Yea,"

"I liked it."

[lemonsharkgirlfriend]

so rhaenyra starts s3 with a god complex, believing herself to be the prince that was promised from aegon the conqueror's dream... but hugh and ulf will betray her, mysaria will misunderstand her, coryls will undermine her, bartimos will underestimate her, daemon will abandon her, her people will turn against her and burn her castle and kill her dragon. and when everyone who accepted rhaenyra as queen rejects her, the only person left to love rhaenyra will be alicent, who never loved rhaenyra as queen but rhaenyra as a person ("she was the vision that sustained him [...] it was his love for her that kept him resolute in his choice of heir."). alicent, who abandoned her gods and duty to go to rhaenyra on dragonstone and appeal to the person beneath the crown ("i cast myself on the mercy of a friend who once loved me."). alicent, who's made a god of rhaenyra, not as queen, but as the girl she read with beneath the godswood ("come with me.").

[skyrigel]

Simon had him and you all convinced that it was just sex and nothing more.

“No attachment.” He always said, everytime — sometimes so hurried and forgotten that it's just mumbled against your mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat.

Sometimes with so much urgency that it's lost between your moans, no attachment, babe, no attachment. And you believed him because it was really just sex, wasn't it ? There were no pretty dates and no fancy dinner at ritz, maybe those poorly wrapped ones he pretended he had not ordered and takeouts he brought along...but oh please, no attachments!

But maybe sometimes about those walks in the city where he would not so subtly grasp your hand, and you would catch him stealing glances at you while a teenager fiddled with his guitar, rhyming she came, my world lit with narcotic, I am addict.

No attachment but Simon's standing outside your workspace when it's raining —“I thought you might need it.” holding up the umbrella but those two words were there again when you were knee deep in the passanger seat and he was eating you out... because it was casual, right ? No attachment.

And it really didn't burn and ached until you got sick, real sick — puking your guts out and coughing until your ribs gave up, surely he wasn't the best role model of no attachment when he was panting to death as he picked your unconscious frame from the floor, you still remember the faint whisper of his ‘please don't leave me, please, please don't —’ over and over.

And if he wanted for no attachment then he should be gone. Gone and not come back because it was just sex...

Simon shouldn't be mopping the floor, and stirring your soup and touching your forehead every five minutes.

No attachment then why he's loading your grocery and taking out trash and doing your laundry, why he's wiping your tears and telling you it's going to be alright.

Why he's not leaving like he always did because there were no attachment right, but he's right here, tucking you in bed and washing your hair and reading you book.

“Is it some eccentric joke ? Why this Zaid is always growling ?—also when you get alright... we're gonna try it out, lovie.”

You blushed, but it wasn't just what he was suggesting but that word, it felt good.

“S-say it again.” You whispered, shifting your head in pillow. Simon turned back a page he was reading from, your scrunchie on his wrist.

“Zaid growled—” You screwed your face,“—oh, we'll try it—”

“last word. Your last word.”

“Oh.” He said, “Lovie...you don't like it ?”

You shaked your head, sniffing very unsexy-ly

“Call me that...I love it.” Simon pushed up the book up his face, his neck was pulsing with his many veins and you knew the blush that would be blooming on his hard face. Cute.

“Again.” You tilted your head, to get a look at his flushed out face.

“Okay Lovie...sleep now.” He grumbled, flicking your bedside lamp off and bookmarking the book with one of your scrunchie he removed from his wrist.

“Huh...Good night baby.” You said, waiting to be corrected, waiting for those two words to come and upside down it all.

But they never came, like they never even existed, never had a meaning to them at all.

No attachment, lost forever in darkness.

“G'night lovie.” He said so sweetly, and when you closed your eyes this time, you only saw daylight.

Grim Reaper! Simon

Masterlist

[letsplaythermalnuclearwar]

Homer!Odysseus and Epic!Odysseus would try to kill each other if they ever met

[callsign-coolsquirrel]

Ghost Rider Au

[tacticalprincess]

könig with a reader who behaves exactly like a cat :( curling up into a ball on top of his big chest and torso for your daily nap, forcing his heavy arms to blanket and shield you… sinking your teeth into his strong biceps when cuteness aggression kicks in… whining and mewling when you don’t get your way, but on your best behavior so long as you’re being spoiled by your big, brooding boyfriend. he’d love pampering you and treating you like the precious little diva you are, rubbing your tummy for you when it aches, grooming your hair for you, letting you empty his wallet to your hearts content. especially when it ends with you pressing your soft cheeks and plump mouth to his clothed cock, begging him to let you repay the favor.

sometimes your personalities clash, with him being too blunt for his own good and you being the sensitive, temperamental little thing you are, but your attitude is nothing he can’t handle with a soft, stern voice, or coax out of you with a few rough strokes. you’re his little kätzchen and he wouldn’t have it any other way <3

[temeyes]

price the humidifier

[lxvvie]

I‘m a huge fan of the there’s only one bed trope but let me change it up a bit. The 141 are on deployment and the reader loses her sleeping bag and tent in a firefight. So now she has to share with Simon. Somehow Simon’s fingers end up between her legs👀

Ghost, in all his gritty fuck-nastiness, saw you losing your things as the perfect opportunity to claim what's rightfully his.

You don't even get to ask before he tells you you're with him.

Good thing, too, 'cause it's a little chilly at night, so when you finally settle down for the night, you're... mighty close to Ghost. Close enough to feel his heat, yeah, but you ain't touching.

Not yet. Until you finally do and he says, "Fuck it."

And now he has his fingers knuckle deep inside you.

"Gotta keep 'em warm," Ghost says gruffly as he pumps 'em in and out. FuckfuckfuckyouwannamoanohfuckGhost—

"Keep it in. Can't attract attention." Not a suggestion, an order, and you're left whimpering and trying your damndest not to get too loud as he finger bangs the fuck out of you.

[stumisstability]

*New recruit flirting with Soap*

Recruit: you’re quite attractive...and exotic...are you British?

Soap: ya fucking dobber, away an’ bile yer heid! *approaches aggressively*

Recruit: *backs away*

Gaz: Ghost, why aren’t you pissed she’s flirting with your boy?

Ghost: she just called Soap British. I feel sorry for the bastard now.

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Soap: *covered in black lipstick kisses all over his face and neck and a stupid lovesick look on his face*

Price, behind the camera: "who did that to you?"

Price: *turns to Laswell, wearing bright red lipstick* "did you do that?"

Laswell: "nope"

Price: *turns to Ghost, whose mask is above his nose and his lips are stained black and heavily smeared*

Ghost: "then who did?"

Gaz: *throws an arm around Ghost to jump into frame, also with black stained lips that are heavily smeared* "yeah, who?"