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aestas---estas · 1 month

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You're like the sun

MDNI 18+ | Part 2 | Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | 2,3k words | fem!Reader, assistant!Reader, protective!Simon, intrusive thoughts briefly mentioned that are quickly squashed, drinking mentioned, reader is described as curvy (one mention), probable military inaccuracies | if I forgot a tag/tw please tell me, I'm new to this | divider by @cafekitsune

You're like the sun. Simon hates the sun. Always too bright, too warm, beaming up at him with that celestial smile, and if he stares at you for too long your face imprints at the back of his eyelids; forcing him to bask in your light even when he turns his gaze away.

You bring him tea in the mornings — knocking confidently on his office door, waiting for his gruff grunt of acknowledgement before entering, too chipper, too bright. It's Earl Grey, a dash of milk, just to his taste, and he fucking hates that it's perfect. He questioned your motives the first time it happened, and with a melodic voice you told him you're bringing Captain Price his coffee and Simon's office was just on the way. Never faltering under his scrutinising gaze, only calling out a sweet goodbye before disappearing the way you came. It takes him weeks before he realises he never told you how he likes his tea, and by that point it's too late to ask.

One week you're out; sick, some stomach bug Price told him when he asked point blank about your absence on the second day. It's not that he misses you, of course not, he had just gotten used to the daily routine. He counted on you bringing him his morning tea like he counted on the sun to climb the horizon. So if he suppresses a smile underneath his mask when, after 5 days without your bright light, you grace the doorway to his office with a steaming mug and a wide smile, that would only be because he finally didn't have to make the beverage himself.

Before you, Simon would send his paperwork to Price via an unfortunate rookie that happened to pass by his door — threatening that even a glimpse inside the folder would be answered with violence. Too comfortable in his own space to venture outside and possibly subject himself to pointless small talk with soldiers he couldn't care less about. Now, he finds himself walking the hallway between his office and Price's, placing the files on your desk without a word. That's what you're there for, he tells himself. You're the assistant, it's your job to deliver whatever paperwork that was meant for the Captain. He doesn't scold or threaten the sun when it beams down at him from high up in the sky, so why would he utter a hateful word in your direction when you flash him that blinding smile and do your job?

It takes Price 4 months until he convinces you to join him and the boys for a night out at the pub. It's not that you feel unwelcome or unwanted per se, but you know you don't belong — not like the rest of them. You're the newcomer, have never been in a firefight, never had a scar be inflicted upon you from an enemy getting too close. You read and write reports, take phone calls, pass along messages and bring caffeinated beverages. But after a particularly shitty week, a drink with some coworkers didn't sound so bad anymore.

Stepping into the crowded pub, a pretty dress accentuating your curves, you drew Simon's attention right away. Like any personification of a celestial body would, you commanded the room. But the other mens’ obvious stares ranging from salacious to malicious did nothing to deter you, your focus was on the booth in the far corner where the team was all sat. A wave and the usual radiant smile of yours was all the greeting they got before you held up a finger and backtracked to the bar to order.

“Bonnie one, ain't she?” Johnny says, elbowing Simon in the ribs, eyes never leaving your form as you lean over the bar top to make your order heard over the music. Simon doesn't answer, but something ugly snakes across his chest, tightening around his heart. Of course Johnny had set his sights on you, and you would fall to his charm like every man and woman before you. It was a small miracle you hadn't already taken a tumble or two in the hay with the sweet-talking Scotsman.

Kyle scoots down the bench once you finally make your way over, a yellow and orange drink in hand. Despite your bad week your mood is as bright as the colours of your beverage, and Simon finds himself enraptured by your stories, your laugh. Even from across the table, the toe of your heels bumping against his rough boot with every shuffle of your legs, he can feel your warmth; it washes over him, makes the palms of his hands damp where they grip his beer glass tensely.

You fit in almost seamlessly with the squad. You talk in depth about some book with Price, you joke with Kyle, you flirt with Johnny. Had Simon been a better man, he would've offered you his seat so you could be closer to the Scottish Sergeant. But he's not a better man — he wants to be able to stare at you from across the booth, wants to observe your glow without distractions or interruptions. He's selfish, depraved, rude, a brute to put it simply.

So when Johnny offers to walk you home with a grin on his face, Simon fixes him with a steely glare and crosses his arms over his chest. “You're not fucking the secretary, MacTavish.”

Johnny sputters some half-assed defence, but eventually shrinks back down in his seat. You stumble as you get out of the booth, feet tripping over themselves, and Simon's arm snakes around your waist to steady you.

“‘M not a secretary,” you slur out, swaying slightly as he pushes open the door to the pub and leads you outside. The night air is crisp, cool, yet your body is warm where it rests heavily against Simon's side. “‘M a personal assistant.” You sound so proud over the title too that it almost makes him chuckle; almost.

“You answer calls and deliver mail,” he replies, downplaying your role like the right bastard that he is.

You huff in annoyance and displeasure, obviously deterred by his dismissal. He can't be sure, but for a second he senses a glimpse of hurt in your eyes. Why would you care what he thinks of your position? Didn't you get along with Johnny all night? Or maybe you're mad that he cockblocked you. Yes, that must be it. You're not sad that he doesn't truly understand your value, you're not annoyed that he dismissed your pride, you're angry because he wouldn't let Johnny walk you home and tuck you in tight.

The two block walk to your apartment building from the pub is done in silence. Simon has his arm around you the whole way, making sure you don't stumble and fall flat on your face.

“Thank you,” you say as you lean against the door to your flat, fumbling with your purse to try and find the key. “For walking me here. You didn't have to.”

“No, I didn't,” he answers at length, because really, there was no reason for him to stay by your side the entire walk home. He could've called you a cab, he could've left you by the foyer instead of ushering you into the elevator and asking ‘what floor’, he could've stayed put inside the pub. He could've done a hundred and one things instead of making sure you got inside your flat safe and sound with his own two eyes.

A sound of victory expels from your lips as you fish your key out of the mess that is your purse and hold it up for him to see, a big, drunken grin on your face.

When you stumble into your hallway, Simon thinks he must've lost his mind — you didn't close the door. Didn't you know that was dangerous? Didn't you know he was?

“Careful,” he mutters out as you nearly tumble over and hit your head at the corner of a table when reaching down to unsnap the buckles of your shoes. The lock clicks in place behind him.

He takes care of you that night; argues with you to brush your teeth and remove any makeup you had put on, makes sure you drink at least two glasses of water and take a painkiller before ushering you off to bed. He sleeps on the couch and it occurs to him how horrifyingly simple it would be to snuff out your light. He could walk away, leave your door unlocked for any degenerate to enter, or he could be personal about it; press a pillow over your face as you sleep, hold your throat in his hands with enough force to snap, maybe even steal a kitchen knife from the wooden block so primly placed near the stove.

It's a terrifying thought, one he forces out of his mind as soon as it enters. The sun doesn't deserve to implode just because he sometimes finds its brightness debilitating, and neither do you.

Nothing changes after that night, yet everything does at the same time. You still bring Simon his tea every morning, now with an accompanying crumpet or biscuit, he still hand delivers his paperwork to your desk, but now he stays for a minute to chat. He makes a simple typo once, misspells his own rank at the beginning of the report, just to get a few extra moments of your warmth as you stop by his office to point it out — but not to worry, you have already fixed it, you reassure with a smile.

You bake cupcakes a few weeks later, two for each of them, decorated with a light pink frosting that matches the shade of your top so perfectly Simon suspects you must have done it on purpose. You make Price call everyone into his office for a quick celebration; it's your birthday, and Kyle and Johnny both offer to throw a proper party, but you shake your head and tell them you already have plans to celebrate that weekend. To Simon's surprise they both back off, neither of them making a big fuss about not being invited. He dreams of pale pink sunsets that night.

The incessant ringing of his phone wakes him up, pulling him from a fitful sleep in the middle of the night. Too tired for formalities, he simply grumbles out a ‘what?’ into the receiver, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Loud, drunken chatter, drowned out by the thumping bass of whatever club music that was playing in the background, met his ears for a few seconds before your voice broke through.

“Hey, baby.” Baby. The nickname feels like a cold shower, making all his synapses fire, his attention at high-alert.

“What's going on?” He asks, already pulling on his jeans and searching for his keys. You don't sound like yourself, something is off and it makes a ball of anxiety furl tight in his gut.

“Can you come pick me up?” You ask in lieu of a proper answer, rambling off the address of whatever club you had found yourself at.

He's outside the club within minutes, probably breaking a handful of traffic laws, but none of that matters as he spots you — arms wrapped tight around yourself, slightly shaking from the cold night air, some sleeze talking you up despite your closed-off body language.

“Oi!” He calls, drawing both your and the sleeze's attention.

“You serious?” The sleeze mutters, distaste clear on his face as he eyes Simon up and down.

“Simon!” You fling yourself in his arms, a wide smile pulling at your lips as you press yourself against his solid form. You're cold to the touch, goosebumps littering your bare arms, and he drapes his jacket over you before he even realises what he’s doing.

“This him then?” Sleeze asks. “The boyfriend?”

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p as you look back at him, still keeping yourself flush against Simon.

That explains the nickname then. You were trying to get rid of this jerk, and the only thing that works on people like him is telling them you're unavailable.

“Let's go, love,” Simon mumbles against the top of your head, just loud enough for the other man to hear.

“Thank you,” you say once he's got you in the car, fingers nervously playing with the hem of the skirt of the dress you're wearing. It's another cute number that hugs you in all the right places, just like the one you wore that night in the pub. “I'm sorry I called. I'm… I'm sorry I said you were my boyfriend.”

“Don't worry ‘bout it,” Simon answers at length. He doesn't care that you had disturbed his sleep, he doesn't care that you had lied to a stranger about your relationship, he doesn't care that his jacket will undoubtedly smell like you once he gets it back — all he cares about is that you were safe, that despite the alcohol in your system you had enough wits about you to call him.

You kiss him on his cheek when he drops you off at your building, smiling softly before disappearing with a quick ‘see you on Monday.’ He doesn't realise until he's halfway back that he never asked for the jacket back.

It's nearing your one year anniversary as Price’s personal assistant. You make the team cupcakes again, vanilla frosting this time. Everything is just as it was day one, yet nothing is the same. Because now Simon walks you to your car at the end of every day, because now he follows you home after the pub whenever you accompany the team on one of their outings, because now he calls you ‘love’, because now you hold his hand and kiss his cheek, because now when he compares you to the sun it's because you're all encompassing, life giving, eternal. Without your warmth, your light, your love, his world would be cold and cruel and lonely. You're like the sun. Simon can't live without you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty #call of duty fic #my writing #sunshine x grumpy #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon riley

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psychotrenny · 5 months

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Lancer is a funny because of how much it insists that Union is this flawed but ultimately benevolent institution that's well on the path to improvement, a "utopia in progress" as they love to say, when like they casually reveal so many things about it that show Union as rotten to the fucking core. Like as much as Lancer fans like to go on and on about how it's an imperfect society that needs to make compromises, there's so much awful shit about Union that just seems pointless or easily avoidable.

And like part of this is the creator's politics; they're social democrats so it's not surprising that Space Sweden is their idea of a society that, if not the best we could possibly achieve, is at least the best we can do for the foreseeable future. As a Marxist-Leninist it's only natural that I'd have a condemnatory view of such a society just as I do for real Social Democracies; my idea of an achievably "good" society is just fundamentally different from that of the creators But like Lancer is also full of little details that just seem fucked up and awful even from the values and viewpoint of Social Democracy. Like stuff that's just as bad, if not worse, than a lot of sci-fi Dystopias. Like why the fuck does Union have a CIA that's run by a group of super-computers with the actual elected legislature having an advisory role but no actual jurisdiction and this fact being kept secret from the vast majority of the populace? Not much of a democracy if one of the most powerful institutions in the entire political body is free from any kind of democratic or even fucking human oversight while most people aren't even allowed to have an opinion on this because they aren't allowed to know about it. Or what about the caste of Janissary diplomats (like was it really necessary to take children and train them like they're the jedi of interplanetary relations) who come with customised computer slaves. Like yeah don't forget about the fucking SCP computer slavery thing, which is completely fine (except for the times it isn't I guess). Like it's basically the weirdest and most uncomfortable part of Star War's setting imported near whole-cloth only like the regular mindwipes are justified because otherwise they'll full Durandal and you don't want that do you? Look how happy and content they are being forced to think like humans while acting as loyal servants. Btw Union is somehow even less denazified than West Germany. Significantly so. They literally gave Hitler Corp. (a fucking weapons manufacturer so powerful they call it a "corpro-state"!) a seat at the UN. While allowing their Blue Helmets to keep using those Nazi-made weapons. And like Third Comm is repeatedly described as doing basically the same shit that Second Comm did but with more "Care" or whatever so don't worry it's fine now.

Like I can just keep going on and on like I'm not making this up this isn't some like weird expansion this is all from the core rulebook. I get that there has to be conflict and tension but like why did they need to make their ostensible good guys so fucking awful like these are the people you're meant to feel good about fighting for why did you need to fill them with the sort of details you'd see in some cautionary dystopia? And like why do actual people keep defending these guys? Like once you get down to it Union manages to be less Space Sweden and more* "The Ottoman Empire with Pronouns"

*to borrow a phrase coined by a mate while we were talking about this

#lancer

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yuri-is-online · 7 months

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i was just thinking about lovestruck ace, whose eyes always seem to be fixated on you during class, thinking about how cute you look and wondering how soft your hair is.

lovestruck ace, who feels as if he's going to have a heart attack every time you link your arm through his whenever you're walking together.

lovestruck ace, who has to fight the blush on his cheeks whenever you use your fork to feed him when he wants to taste your lunch.

lovestruck ace, who forces himself to stay still whenever you accidentally sleep on his shoulder during your hangouts.

lovestruck ace, who thinks he's so good at hiding how down bad he is for you when, on the contrary, it's soooo obvious to everyone how in love he is with you.

You're just too good to be true//Can't take my eyes off of you

It's because he's bored. That's what he tells himself, that's what he whispers into his hand when he's playing with his magic pen in class, history is pointless and uninteresting but you write down every little thing Trein says like your life depends on it. He half wants your attention to be on him, half wants you to stay on task so he can steal your notes later as payment for keeping him off task all day. It's been driving him crazy just how badly he wants to reach out and touch some part of you, the itch to hold onto you by the back of your jacket or a single lock of hair just to be connected but only leave a ghost of his affection on you.

You'd be like Heaven to touch//I wanna hold you so much

Yet he fumbles when you reach to touch him, stutters about how embarrassing you're being as you walk along to the cafeteria. How he allowed you to pick up the habit of dragging him around is beyond him, his heart wants to give out from embarrassment from the attention everyone shoots his way when you walk with him like this. But he can't let it, he has to stand tall so they know he's in control, that they don't have a chance, that he's the only one you want to hold like this... he hopes.

At long last, love has arrived//And I thank God I'm alive

It happens so quickly he's convinced he doesn't get a chance to be awkward, but the thought of the indirect kiss still stays with him for the rest of the day. He tries not to keep his hand from touching his mouth and thinking thinking about what it would feel like to kiss you for real. He's heard of people describe the taste of a kiss... and he wonders if that's even a thing or if he'd be too caught up in the closeness of you to even notice it.

You're just too good to be true//Can't take my eyes off of you

The movie drones on in the background and Ace has forgotten all about why he wanted to watch it so badly in the first place, it wasn't for this no matter how much Deuce will tease him for it later if he ever catches wind of this. He finds himself matching his breaths with yours, wishing he hadn't left his phone on the side table so he could sneak a picture of you resting peacefully next to him... for blackmail he tells himself. For blackmail...

Now that I've found you, stay//And let me love you, baby

It's an open secret how Ace feels about you. His eyes follow you through every room you enter and linger long after you leave, there's an unspoken respect for your place at his side that no one mentions because they've long accepted the inevitable truth that his little world is spinning on a Yuu shaped axis and all he can do when approached is deny, deny, d e n y for fear of having it used against him in some imaginary contest of ego because of how well he seems to think he's doing. But they know.

Let me love you

Ace just can't take his eyes off of Yuu.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #aceyuu #ace trappola x reader #GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH THE WAY I SCREAMED WHEN I GOT THIS ASK #you are great #fantastic #a;worebg;uebnrgheiknthrtyhj #oh yeah #ace and yuu have a movie hangout alone without deuce in idia's labwear vingette #i think about that a lot i have it pinned on my aceyuu inspo #need to dissect the thought of that more σ(￣、￣=)

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slayfics · 1 year

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You get in an argument with Katsuki.

Warnings: Intimate Partern Violence (you slap Katsuki)

Katuski had finally come home after a long patrol day. You were still working on your computer trying to finish what you needed for the day.

While you focused hard on trying to finally get done, Katsuki explained the events of his day enthusiastically to you. Over dramatizing and playing out the events as usual.

"Wow, that happened? That's wild," You responded half-heartedly.

"Hu?" He noticed your lack of excitement. Usually, you hung on every word of how his day went, but today you seemed to only be half listening and unmoved by anything. "What's the matter?" He asked.

"Just a tough day I guess-" You responded, still not looking away from your computer.

"Hey! Look at me!" He yelled. You let out a sigh and turned to face him.

"Yes?"

"Well tell me what happened!" He demanded.

"It doesn't matter Katsuki, continue I'm listening." You responded.

"No! I'm not going to continue until you tell me!" He retorted stubbornly.

"I already did! It was just a rough day ok!" You responded, beginning to become agitated.

"It must have been for you to be sulking so much." He rolled his eyes.

You ignored his response and turned back to your computer hoping to defuse the situation and indicate to him that you didn't want to talk at the moment.

"HEY! I'm not done talking to you!" He yelled, fuming at you turning your back to him.

"OK fine! Continue, and then what else happened on patrol?" You asked, feeling your frustration peak.

"No- YOU tell me what happened. What about your day was so tough?"

"I don't want to talk about it Katsuki!" You yelled back at him. The truth was you often found it challenging to talk to Katsuki about your tough days. How could any of your struggles compare to what he did on a daily basis? Compared to risking your life every day to save others it seemed pretty pointless to complain about things that didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

Further, you always found it hard to be truthful with him when things didn't go your way. Katsuki was so ambitious and had accomplished so much already. Wouldn't he look down on you for hearing that you had failed at something important to you?

"Oh I'm sorry was your day so rough you can't even talk about it? You act like you're the one who risked your life today to save someone," He spoke, crossing his arms.

"What the fuck did you say to me?" You asked, spinning around in your chair and standing up to face him feeling fury flash in your own eyes. It hurt worse than you could describe to hear him speak out about your own worst insecurities.

You didn't have an amazing quirk like he did, you didn't risk your life every day like he did. The things important to you didn't come naturally to you as they did to him. You knew that, that's what made it so hard to tell him you failed at something very important to you today.

Katsuki's eyes flashed in surprise at your harsh words before responding. "I know you heard me," He spat. "You were here safe all day but you're going to sulk as if your day was so hard."

The red-hot anger that flashed over your eyes caused you to react much like a child pushing Katsuki in his chest. "Don't you talk down to me!" You yelled at him.

Katsuki just laughed barely budging at your push, "What was that? That was pathetic," He continued to laugh. Your next action released from your body before you could stop it or think it over. Your hand raised and slapped Katsuki across the face with as much strength as you had.

Katsuki's next action came quickly, but it didn't feel like it. The moment seemed to stand still as your slap echoed across the room and a look of pure shock spread on his face. At that moment, you felt your heart drop as you realized you had gone too far.

Katsuki's hands reached up, one grabbed roughly around your wrist and the other wrapped around your throat. He pulled you down onto the bed in the room and straddled you.

Still pinning one hand down and the other wrapped around your throat, his face was just inches away from yours now. Reflected in the fury of his own eyes was the look of pure terror in yours. You wanted to believe he would never hurt you, even after you had made such an assault, but your heart beat out of your chest nonetheless at the possibility. There was no question that you were at his mercy now.

The few moments that he held you down seemed like they lasted for hours as his breath washed over your face. Finally, bringing an end to the horrifying anticipation, Katsuki crashed his lips hard onto yours. A forceful kiss like you have never felt from him before.

It felt as though all the air had left your lungs at the intensity of the kiss. Tears started to swell in your eyes from the guilt you felt at hitting him and the second doubts that hung in your head about whether he was going to hurt you. Of course, he wouldn't of… how dare you ever question it.

Katsuki was no doubt furious at you, but instead of retaliating, he took his anger out on you in the form of a passionate kiss.

As quick as he crashed his lips to yours, he pulled away leaving you alone on the bed, and walked out of the room.

"Katsuki!" You yelled after him, but he did not turn around. You tried desperately to yell out for him again but he was intent on walking away.

You jumped off the bed to run after him and wrapped your hands around his waist hugging him from behind.

"I'm so sorry- I," You began to cry. "I just- I don't care what anyone else says to me but- not you- you can't talk down to me like that," You sobbed into his back.

Katsuki threw your hands off around his waist, for a moment you were sure he was going to keep walking away. However, he turned around and picked you up into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms instinctively draping over his shoulders.

In this position, he kissed you once again, then rested his forehead on yours.

"I love you," he mumbled in his husky voice.

"I love you too, Katsuki."

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blueepink07 · 2 months

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Yuno: her struggling relationship with autonomy

(character analysis)

One aspect I have always loved about media characters is their attempt to be perceived as mature, despite their young age. Some succeed, others struggle to hide what they see as their childish side.

Yuno is no different in this context and I'm surprised that people don't talk about it enough.

Beginning with her age 18, it's truly a controversial age, if I may say. It's a confusing age, because you are technically considered an adult, but, at the same time, your mind is not fully developed to actually be one. In the end, you are still a child at heart and mind, despite the fact that you are legally an adult.

We don't know much of her home life and honestly I don't think it would do any good for me to make assumptions, since it's pointless in the long run and it would just lose credibility. However, one thing it's for sure based on Yuno's actions. She desires autonomy.

Yuno: Despite that, you arbitrarily assumed things about me and sympathized with me. Even though all I did was make a rational decision of my own free will.

I'm the one who chose, let you and you and you all in ~🎵

She highlights quite a lot with these phrases… She chose for herself, she is an adult who willingly decided to partake in compensated dating. Being called naive or innocent, two words that usually are used to describe little children, surely infuriated her… and she shows it.

It's funny now that I think about it. Fuuta also has the same problem, but his reactions are more childish, in the end, not doing him any justice. However, Yuno is no different. Of course, she does it in a more subtle manner, but she really does get worked up quite a lot when it comes to her being perceived more as a teenager than an adult. Her whole song it's literally about this idea. Yuno being infuriated that she is infantilized by the audience, making a sad backstory for her so they can dismiss the idea that there wasn't necessarily a big factor that provoked her to partake in compensated dating, but it's only her own free will.

I might add that the compensated dating itself is a way for Yuno to feel that she has more autonomy and she no longer needs to be treated as a child.

"An adult is a human or other animal that has reached full growth.[1] The biological definition of the word means an animal reaching sexual maturity and thus capable of reproduction." ~ wikipedia

Moreover, even the media promotes the fact that sexual content should strictly be watched by adults. And Yuno does end up having sex during some of these dates…

And if this idea isn't convincing enough… I think that Yuno likes to partake in compensated dating, because she knows the clients don't consider her a child. They are interested in her, in a way that makes Yuno feel satisfied with herself (at least, for a short period of time, when she is in their presence) she feels grown up and mature. She also receives money for her services, providing her with enough financial resources for Yuno to consider that she finally managed to complete one of the first steps of adulthood, to be financially stable.

Doing something that is not really socially accepted, again, can be considered as autonomy, because you do not follow the same rules that the society obligs. Yuno knows how compensated dating is perceived, but she still does it, because she thinks this action provides her "warmth".

The "warmth" that Yuno speaks about is a vague term to describe her desires. Based on her interactions, I would like to think that this term refers to genuineness and mutual understanding. Yuno, in the first VD, describes the society as being a place where "everyone eats each other". People need to point fingers at others who made a mistake, who did something that's not socially accepted to make themselves feel better.

Yuno: That’s right. You know those people who just wanna convince themselves, so they intrude in other people’s affairs even though it’s not their place—I despise them. That’s what I was saying. They only do that to make themselves feel better, don’t they? Those people don’t actually end up doing anything.

And you know what is interesting? The fact that Yuno finds more closure being in the company of some murderers. Why? Because they can also be considered some outcasts of the society that she pretty much dislikes.

Es: However, it also explains why you’ve given up. About yourself, human beings, even the whole of society, you’ve realised everything—that’s why your expression is so cold.

Teenagers usually have little power in our society. They can achieve great things, but have to go through more hardships due to the limited freedom. They need an adult to actually help them. That’s just how society is built.

Yuno's distaste for the society can explain why she has grown so fast, or, at least, thinks that she has matured enough. She was tired of the society inflicting on her rules that she, as a simple teenager, had to oblige. So, going into Milgram, starting to hear people crafting a sob backstory for Yuno, treating her like a child, despite the fact she has already done a few steps in order to sustain herself financially and emotionally as a young adult, it's truly insulting.

Es: This is just popular belief, but the law is also something the people have decided. There’s nothing, which can satisfy every single human being, now is there?

Yuno: That’s right.

However, even after all these, that doesn't mean she doesn't actually struggle with this new found autonomy that she craves.

I actually think that this autonomy is the cause of most of her suffering.

As I stated before, compensated dating is something that she decided to partake in, in order to prove her independence. She thinks that what she has chosen for herself is healing, helping her. But, if it's that the case, then why do we have these scenes?

It's difficult to admit that one of your decisions was actually… Quite wrong. Especially, when it's one of your first one's as an official adult, in the very first stage of your life when you finally have enough independence.

“Cognitive dissonance is what we feel when the self-concept — I’m smart, I’m kind, I’m convinced this belief is true — is threatened by evidence that we did something that wasn’t smart, that we did something that hurt another person, that the belief isn’t true,” said Carol Tavris, a co-author of the book “Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me).”

She added that cognitive dissonance threatened our sense of self.

To reduce dissonance, we have to modify the self-concept or accept the evidence,” Ms. Tavris said. “Guess which route people prefer?”

So which one does Yuno prefer? To convince herself that what she is doing makes her happy.

Yuno: Despite that, you arbitrarily assumed things about me and sympathized with me. Even though all I did was make a rational decision of my own free will.

Yuno: I’m not pitiable. My family gets along super well. And I’m not particularly struggling for money. I decided, of my own free will, to do it because I felt that it was necessary for me.

Sometimes, considering how many times she mentions it, for me it feels like Yuno tries to convince herself that what she is doing is good for her.

But you know what is funny to me?

She is good at making herself enjoyable for others as well as giving somewhat good advice:

Mahiru: My birthday…… the day I was born……But was there really any reason for me being born? Lately I’ve started to wonder that. Do you ever think about stuff like that, Yuno-chan?

Yuno: Eh? Not really. I mean, Mahiru-san, you’re really the romantic type, right? Not that I have anything against that. But isn’t it a bit much to think that everything in life has a meaning? If it makes you happy to think like that then go ahead, but if it doesn’t, then isn’t that in itself meaningless?

Mahiru: : ……you might be right. I’ve always just lived my life like this, so I don’t really know.

Yuno: We’ve all just gone through a bunch of things in life that happened to lead us here. It’s nothing more than a coincidence. Definitely not fate or anything. Probably. Even if there isn’t a meaning, you can still be happy that it’s your birthday. That sort of thing’s all you need in life really. So happy birthday, Mahiru-san.

Mahiru: ……no, I’m fine. As long as I don’t move too much I don’t even feel any pain. Sorry for making you worry.

Yuno: Oh, really? That’s good then. Mahiru-san, if there’s anything you want then just ask. It’s not like it’s a huge burden, I can just ask for it along with my own stuff.

Mahiru: Ok…… I’m fine for now. Sorry, for making you worry. Ah, Yuno-chan…… Today’s your birthday, right? Happy birthday.

Yuno: …Haha, thanks. Thank you, but y’know. Is it really ok for you to be saying that to me when you’re in that situation?... you really aren’t suited for Milgram, huh, Mahiru-san.

Amane: What is it… Kashiki Yuno. Don’t sit so close to me. Go away.

Yuno: Sorry for barging in when you’re getting into your worldview thing. But Mahiru-san’s finally managed to get to sleep. Humour me with some small talk while I take a break. By the way, Amane. Have you ever wished you were never born? I’ve thankfully lived a pretty fun life so far, so haven’t really. But you seem to be struggling with something. So I kinda wondered if you thought like that.

Amane: ……I don’t think that. Being born into this world is the first miracle any person experiences, and is something to celebrate. Even if after birth I was put through trial after trial, the value of that will never disappear.

Yuno: Hmm. Ok…happy birthday, then. It’s good that you were brought into the world, I guess.

But Yuno has a big, and I mean a BIG tendency to self-destruct, not intentionally.

Wanting to be independent comes with its own downfalls. At the beginning of the trial, Jackalope states that Yuno has distanced herself from social interactions. So much so, that we have never seen her actually confiding to someone else, in any of the portal timeline translations. She might have her reasons, either minimizing her problems, and using her energy to help the ones she deems to have worse than her, or, this is simply her nature to bottle up her own sadness. This again might also be the cause of her wanting autonomy and proving to herself and others that she is mature enough to manage her emotions.

Not confiding in someone else for a long time can cause depression. Something that Yuno might be struggling with during trial 3 or she is already struggling with it a bit.

Furthermore, it's interesting that Yuno admits disliking behaviors that she deems childish. For example, she doesn't like the way Haruka and Muu behave, because they are ignorant of the problems in prison and have a really childish way of thinking. Amane's hate towards Shidou, might be often wrongly interpreted as a simple child's tantrum. Kotoko's actions, responding with violence to violence, it's again, an aspect often deemed as childish and immature.

Yuno: Really? If you ask me, Kotoko is someone I would never want to make my friend, though. She’s the type who picks a conclusion from the very beginning and won’t actually talk with you.

Yuno: Well, I guess it’s arbitrary who one gets along with. But Mahiru-san in particular is something. I think both her body and mind are at their limits. Also, Mikoto-san was also attacked but apparently it ended up in something of a draw. That guy was strong, huh—how unexpected. Also Haruka and Muu-chan have become kind of bothersome. And additionally, Amane-chan and Shidou-san too, huh.

Lastly, her second MV also shows her desire of autonomy in Milgram, not only through lyrics, but through visuals too.

Beginning with her door, it looks a lot like a medieval castle door.

Her room, the way it is designed, especially the bed and the chair, also resemble a princess' room.

However:

Despite the important role that princesses played in courtly life, they had limited personal freedom. They were often kept under close guard and were rarely allowed to leave the palace or castle where they lived. This was done to protect them from danger and to prevent them from engaging in political activities that might undermine the authority of the king or prince.

Medieval princesses had little to no autonomy most of the time. Their life was dictated from the start, having the only purpose to be betrothed and give birth to children.

That’s why the design choice is intentional. Yuno feels like a princess trapped in her pretty room (the MV is quite claustrophobic, the only outside elements being a few memories), exposed to the world (the many windows imply this), the voices that keep demonizing her.

That’s why the scene where she starts breaking things in her room is so important. It serves as a sign of rebellion, to show that she is not the perfect, helpless princess that people like to portray her as. She is an adult who makes bad or good decisions, who thinks for herself. She is proud of her autonomy and is tired of constantly proving to others that she is not capable of taking care of herself.

#My birthday is on Tuesday so I've decided to write a character analysis of my favorite milgram character!#I actually wanted to post it tomorrow #but I'm sure I would have just ended up being unsatisfied with what I had written!! #I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed making it!#Yuno is very fun to analyse as a character #milgram #thoughts #milgram theory #character analysis #milgram yuno #yuno kashiki #milgram mahiru

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misc-obeyme · 10 months

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Lesson 37 spoilers below - it's screenshot heavy again because OH BOY we had a lot going on this time too. I took almost 100 screenshots lol. But don't worry, I narrowed it down... uh but there are still a lot so I apologize for that.

I do believe I said in my last post that if they were going to go full Dante, they would bury Lucifer in ice.

I only said that because I WAS NOT EXPECTING THEM TO GO FULL DANTE.

Now listen, it's been a long time since I've read the Divine Comedy, so there may be a lot more references that I am missing. I can tell you that the four circles or sections or whatever that Simeon named for us are from Dante. That right there is straight from Dante's Inferno, along with their names and who they're supposed to punish. I don't really feel like any of this has much relevance except that they used it as a backdrop and to create reasons for us to lose most of the people who came to help us as we went.

And truly the lore was fascinating in general, but there are a couple of specific pieces about this that made me go EXCUSE YOU.

It's the Celestial Realm again, guys. Cocytus is part of their domain. And the last area is for those who betrayed "him" as they so eloquently put it lol. Both Mammon and Lucifer are considered traitors in this regard, but I kind of suspect that if the rest of the bros made it to that level, they would've had a similar experience.

Anyway, I was pissed. I was like Diavolo in the hard lesson.

Right, so let's talk Mephistopheles. I'm not familiar enough with the legend of Faust or its variations to know if the way they described his special power is based on that. However, I highly suspect it is at least somewhat inspired by it. Considering making a deal with the devil is what that story is all about.

But aside from all that - I LOVE HIM OH NO.

WHAT. This guy... all this time I thought he was really stuck up. And like I kinda get it, considering how he was supposed to be Diavolo's right hand man and everything. But he's straight up saying that he underestimated them. He seems to have no problem saying yeah, turns out I was wrong and you guys impressed me. So don't go around giving up now. AND he says they learned it from Lucifer? Like... he gets them. He understands them. And I was not expecting that at all. He keeps surprising me and I'm loving it.

Welcome to my life, Mephi.

It's pointless to resist.

I'm telling you, this is just how it always goes.

BUT OH! I'm not gonna lie, this made me feel something. All the brothers usually say such nice things to me, but this guy is basically like ARE YOU STUPID? And I love it?!?!? Augh I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance before, sir.

Okay, now let's talk Solomon being the hot old grandpa that he is. I SWEAR every time he shows up lately it's been making me more insane about him.

WE SUMMONED HIM. We needed him in Cocytus and he wasn't there, so we straight up SUMMONED HIM. We couldn't do it without Mammon giving us his power 'cause our magic is weak, but STILL!?!?

I think Simeon referred to it as teleporting, but really it was the same as summoning him. I think the words were even the summoning spell words.

If this was actually me we were talking about, I would start doing it ALL THE TIME. Consider yourself on call, old man.

And then we got this excellent exchange:

Not only am I always here for big bro Mammon getting protective, but Solomon bringing it right back was also great.

Okay, now let's talk about Raphael and Simeon.

Do you think we're dealing with Michael disguised as Raphael again? For some reason I don't think so, but... at this point, it's like how do you tell? I'm going to talk about it with the assumption that it's actually Raphael and not Michael.

Simeon during this part gave me chills. Because when Raphael showed up and spoke the punishment or whatever and Luke was about to protest, Simeon silenced him. Simeon wouldn't let Luke protest because he knew that wouldn't be good for our baby boy. Simeon was prepared to take the fall instead. And he wasn't about to just let things stand.

I can't accept it. I swear, Simeon's character is far more complex than anyone gives him credit for. He doesn't get anywhere near the amount of appreciation he deserves. I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT IT.

Right, but back to Raphael.

Baby. He's crying. He was just delivering the ultimatum, the decision about the brothers' punishment, and he was crying. I was so surprised, it was so soft and sad and I wanted to hug him. And look at Simeon's frown. AND THEN

EVEN LUCIFER. This man is chained up in some ice and he still sees how Raphael is struggling and feels sorry for him. (Like maybe he's been there before himself...)

This is why I think it really is Raphael. Because this feels like such a significant revelation of his character, I think it'd be a disservice to him if we found out later it wasn't him at all. So I'm hoping it's still him.

Now. Let's talk about Diavolo. I'm pretty sure this was in the hard lesson, so be aware of that!

He is so pissed. I don't think I've ever seen Diavolo quite like this. Worried, sometimes serious, but angry? Like to the point where he thinks he might lose control? I don't think that's happened, has it?

AND BARB. His reaction is so interesting! At first he has this look of surprise, but then LOOK AT THAT SMILE. Here's Dia being like, I need you to stop me, but you can't tell me that smile on Barb's face belongs to anyone who's going to stop anyone. He looks like he's looking forward to it. I love him so much it's stupid. (Also I think Barbatos is just as much of a menace as Solomon is, he's just better at hiding it. Where do you think Sol gets it from??)

And of course the lesson ended with Lucifer BREAKING THROUGH HIS CHAINS. Ugh another cliffhanger.

In general, I really loved the brotherly affection that was running amok in this chapter. They were annoying each other and protecting each other and sacrificing for each other and it was all amazing. They banded together because they care so much about Lucifer, there's no way they would leave him to his fate.

And once again, the Celestial Realm is to blame. I think it makes sense that they're doing this. Before, they said that the seven brothers assuming positions of power in the Devildom meant that the power balance between the Devildom and the Celestial Realm was out of whack. That's why they wanted the brothers back. But the brothers wouldn't come back.

And while the Celestial Realm threatened war, they didn't do that, either.

Do you think perhaps the Celestial Realm collaborated with the House of Lords to get Lucifer trapped in Cocytus? The House of Lords controlled the train where everything went down. The Celestial Realm controls Cocytus. They probably knew that Lucifer's brothers would try to rescue him and counted on them getting trapped in the ice, too.

But perhaps they weren't expecting any interference from Mephisto or Simeon. They had to be expecting MC, I would think. Maybe they underestimated MC because they're human? And maybe they thought Diavolo would just accept it? (If so they are duuuuumb lol.)

Okay just a couple more screenshots because they made me laugh.

PLEASE. I love their dynamic SO MUCH.

Hmm. Is that a threat, Barb? 'Cause uh... you can casually threaten me with that slight smile any time I MEAN yeah, you tell 'em.

I cackled about what do you mean "ahaha" like I can't believe Levi actually said that out loud lol.

Cheer up, Belphie. Let Asmo live the otome dream, won't you?

Okay, okay, I'm done. Overall, I quite enjoyed this chapter, but I'm still sensing more drama, probably until the end of the season, honestly.

You think Nightbringer will make an appearance before it's over? It's almost like I forgot this whole new app was made to tell a story about him. He's just been mostly MIA. UNLESS someone else has been him in disguise all along...

Nope. No. I refuse to get into theorizing, this post is already too long.

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nerdthatsiriuslylovesteaxx · 2 months

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He's dead

"Hello, is this Sally Jackson?"

"Yeah, one of Percy's friends I'm guessing? I'll put him on the phone for you."

"Thank you."

"Hey...?"

"Hi.. it's Leo."

"WHERE THE FVCK HAVE YOU BEEN?!?"

"Language Percy! I don't want Estelle picking that up."

"Sorry mom."

"I forgot you didn't know I was back, I need to tell you something."

"Is everything okay? Is there another prophecy? I swear to the gods if there's anoth-"

"Are Annabeth and Grover with you?"

"No, Leo what's happening? You sound scared." Percy heard sobbing through the phone, "Take a deep breath, what's going on?"

"J-Jason... he- he.. fvcking sh!t- Jason's dead."

"No. No he can't be- but how? Why?!" Percy let out a scream of pain, breaking down into tears. "W- when..?"

"Two weeks ago, I told Piper I would tell you but I haven't been able to do it until now."

"Is she with you?"

"No, I'm alone."

"Where are you?"

"On some street in the middle of somewhere with no money, where I've been for two weeks."

"Are you in New York?"

"Yeah, somewhere in Manhattan."

"Describe it, you're coming over."

"Why...?"

"Just come, I don't think you should be alone right now." As he gave directions everything sunk in, Jason was dead. He would never fvcking see him again, never be able to laugh with him again, everything would never be the same again. He'd lost his bro, the one who'd always do dumb sh!t with him, the one he could talk to about anything but they'd always still be chill. He was gone.

Percy open the door with bloodshot eyes, tears still rolling down his face. Leo was a wreck, he looked as if he hadn't slept in a week, or eaten for that fact. He hugged him, they both half collapsed on each other, holding so tightly it was as if the other was about to disappear.

"Percy, is everything alright? Who's here? I heard crying what happ-" As the hug broke Sally caught sight of the small boy,

"Mom meet Leo, son of Hephaestus."

"Hello, you can stay here as long as you need I know demigod lives are hard. Go take a shower, I'll get you something to eat, if you want we can talk about what happened."

"Thank-k you." Leo whispered, unable to keep his voice from breaking.

"Percy, what's going on?"

"You remember how I told you about camp Jupiter... and..Jason?"

"Of course I do."

"He- he died.. I don't know what happened, I don't know why he even got involved but he's gone." Percy broke down, his mother's arms wrapped around him. "I don't know how I'm going to tell Annie."

"One step at a time, I know things are hard."

"HE WAS BARELY SIXTEEN!"

"I'm so sorry, you can't bring him back."

"But I could."

"Perc-"

"The gods ask for so much but they can't bring back a single person who died fighting for them!?"

"You know they're cruel,"

"I can't do this anymore."

"Leo, you feeling okay? Physically."

"I'm fine."

"Do you want to talk about Jason? I know he was your best friend, he was one of mine."

"He- he was my boyfriend, surprise." He didn't give him any time to answer before continuing but he could see the sympathy is his eyes. "Percy you've lost so many people, how do you keep going on? How do you carry on every day knowing you'll never see them again?"

"It's not easy, especially at the beginning. Somedays it's hard to go through wit somedays your fine, somedays you wish you could join them. They say time heals, that's not exactly true, but people help you heal, if people want to help, let them, even if you don't think it will. I know you want to run away, I know everything seems pointless but right now the worst thing is to be alone."

"I've lost my mum, I've lost Jason, who's next? I have no family that wants me, and my whole life's being controlled by the gods who don't give a shit about us."

"I probably shouldn't be saying this but... do you want a smoke? That's what I've been doing for the past few days, I know it's unhealthy but it... helps."

"Yeah, thanks Perce."

"Can I... show you something?"

"Yeah, you alright?" A tear fell from his eye,

"Ever since Jason- I just couldn't take it anymore... I... I need... some h-help, please." Leo rolled up his sleeves, his arms covered in burns; his breath was unsteady almost scared. "S-sorry." Percy pulled him into a hug,

"You don't have to apologise, I know it seems pointless to go on, I have scars to." Percy turned his forearm revealing pale scars all over his arms.

"But-t you're... you're... THE Percy Jackson, you've been on so many quests and you're so strong an-"

"That's what people thought, I still haven't forgiven myself for Bianca's death, or Beckendorf's or Luke's. But at some point you have to keep going on, you can't spend the rest of eternity grieving. Instead live for them, live to show their sacrifice made a difference because at the end of the day... you can't bring them back."

"How do you find the courage to try."

"You don't just wake up one day and suddenly be okay, it takes time, maybe your life won't be the exact same, but you have to keep living. I can't pretend I've gotten over Jason's death, I've been high a lot in these past few weeks... but I know at some point I'll have to move on."

"Thank you for everything Percy."

______________________

I wrote this a while ago and I thought I would post it because I'm taking forever to post the next Helpless part xx

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acewizardinspace · 1 year

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People complain that the jedi don't act appropriately to being forced to use a slaver army, but they seem to forget that the jedi can't. Not just in universe (although yes, in universe there was nothing the jedi could do about this decision made by the senate) but narratively.

The jedi can't comment on the clone's slavery because the narrative won't let them! As a matter of fact, the narrative won't let anyone mention this! Literally no one calls the clones slaves seriously, even characters who by all accounts should feel that way because the narrative won't let them because they are fictional people created by a team of writers.

The clones aren't slaves in universe because the writers refuse to write them that way. Do I personally feel that this should have been a plot point? Yeah I think it would have been interesting! But they didn't!

Is it fun to explore this in fanfiction? Yeah it totally is! I know I would mention it in any fic I write in the future.

Does it make for good media criticism or analysis? No! This is just straight up not how you professionally analysis media. It is worth bring up in a discussion about the creators and exploring why they didn't bring these things up in the series. That would be good media analysis.

But as "proof" that some characters are bad this fails dramatically. Why? Because then you must apply this logic to every character, meaning not just the jedi are evil but actually every single character in the whole series, yes all of them, are evil. Once you do that you have successfully thrown away any meaning the original work had. It is all pointless now.

People confuse in-universe (watsonian) and out-of-universe (doylist) analysis. 'Why did no one do anything about the clone's situation?' is a shit watsonian analysis. But 'why the fuck did the writers write the clones like this?' is a GREAT doylist question.

Media analysis should add meaning, or explain meaning, or even describe why you feel the work lacks meaning, but it should never take all meaning away.

It is the same reason droids aren't called slaves. It would complicate the narrative and distract from whatever the writers were actually trying to say. The writers don't want to go there, so they don't.

#I WISH the fandom was more willing to talk about the doylist question. Because that is the important one #my meta #my thoughts

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moonlight-tmd · 6 months

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Whenever I listen to Hooked On A Feeling by Björn Skifs I imagine a scenario of Blitzwing just being totally smitten by the little yellow autobot he just met and he's trying his best to court him.

He doesn't even hide it, he will just straight up ditch the entire fight to go talk and compliment the yellow mini and either the Autobots or Lugnut has to chase/drag him away.

The worst part is Bee is totally into it. He doesn't see why the heck this would be a bad idea, the big goofy weirdo(affectionate) just wants his attention and love. Said goofy weirdo is also not that bad-looking and strong. All of his oddities are just more of a lure to capture Bee's curiosity and interest.

Blitz would go and draw attention of citizen so the Autobots come and he'd sing and dance on a makeshift disco ring to flirt with Bee. When that fails he'd carve a giant ice statue of Bumblebee and present it to him and Bee will be so amazed. And when that fails due to the other Autobots dragging Bee away (as always) he'd show up to the emergency at the bridge Bee is at with Ratchet, stand nearby and hold up a sign saying "Please go on a date with me! <3" while blasting some love song he heard that the lyrics literally describe his feelings. Bee did jump off the bridge to get to him that time... unfortunately Ratchet had caught him and lifted him back up with the magnets before Blitzwing could catch him and run off.

Bee's teammates have to keep an eye on him at all times so he won't sneak out and go do something he'll regret. Bee is not happy that his friends don't want him to go and try be happy with another mech, he's very pouty whenever they tell him no he can't do that. So what if it's a 'con? He's never truly taken a side and only wears an insignia for the sake of having some leeway with other Autobots. All of them could be organics, monoformers, 'bots, 'cons or other-faction for all he cares. He just wants to have friends, doesn't matter what or who they are.

I imagine at one point in time on earth Bee took off the window in his room and has it on a latch or something so it opens like a hatch so he can sneak out via his room. He has a big trash container with a lid on the other side and few crates so he can climb down from the window. One time he manages to fool whoever is on the nightly watch over him so he won't sneak out (aka they check if he's still in his berth, this time he waited until the check pretending to recharge and then snuck out). He got out and drove to places he usually saw Blitz hanging out on patrols. He wasn't in any of those places but Bee waited some in one of them and sure enough Blitz did happen to come to that location that night. They were so happy to finally talk with each other properly without anyone hearing anything and interrupting every 3 minutes.

They hit it off near instantly. Bee is so curious and amazed by a unique mech like Blitzwing and Blitz is so enamored with Bee's personality and cute appearance. They dance, sing and laugh under the stars and it's like a love story come real. Of course, they meet few times in secret after that. Bee thinks about how to make others allow him to meet with Blitz... but just as he does that they hear a knock at the shutter and wouldn't you know, Blitzwing is standing there with big boquet of flowers and some small packages. Somehow he learned the location of where Bee lives by himself. Of course Bee grabbed his servo and led him in to play games together despite the others being very much startled by what the heck a 'con is doing in their house on a tuesday morning.

By that point they just give up all efforts to try to keep those two apart. It's pointless... At least Blitz doesn't seem as bad as they thought he was- he did bring them gifts to come into their favor after all.

So Blitz is a regular guest at the Autobot base. Bee is happy, Blitz is happy, and the others still keep an eye on them just in case. But they definitelly stopped being so paranoid over Bee.

#maccadam #tfa #blitzbee

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lutawolf · 1 year

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My Personal Weatherman and the D/s element Ep 6

If you haven't read my other meta on the show, I suggest you do! You can find them here.

I adore that Segasaki put a tracker on Yoh.

However, it looks as though it was pointless because it's as if Yoh wants to get caught. Slow doesn't even begin to describe this boy.

Now it's finally useful. He has found his man and told him in no uncertain terms to make up an excuse and come back home. Now, if he were an actual slave, he would be unable to say no. If he were deep subservient... He would be unable to say no. I know you normies are thinking, damn. Don't they have rights Luta!? They Don't Want Them! They are not you. For some people, they just don't want to make decisions. Now is Yoh that type of submissive is the question though. Let's see what Yoh does.

I love that Yoh at least has someone on the outside of things he can talk to. She clearly understands Segasaki. I really like the husband. Mickey and Minnie are well suited to each other.

Flashback time!!!

So it all starts in the school cafeteria. OMG, I love how Yoh pauses as soon as he sees Segasaki. Then he has to sit back down because he doesn't know what else to do. His original thought is no longer there. All that encompasses his gray matter is Segasaki. "The first time I saw that person. I thought they might not be from this planet. At least out of all the sculptures that I've ever seen, he's the most beautiful." Then he gives that soft smile. So freaking cute! "The shape of his ears, the line of his nose, the angle of the jawline, the fullness of their lips. Even the shape of their unseen eyeballs must be beautiful."

He then rushes to the store to buy what it will take to draw this beautiful boy. Yoh had it bad right off, but he doesn't understand it himself. Did they really call him loner guy? "If I were a girl, I would have thought it was love at first sight. But it was just a beautiful man." Yoh, you is an idiot. I love you, but you is an idiot. Okay, so he even knows that he is lying to himself. That's fair, we all do it.

I really am not a fan of these people. Loner guy? Really. These people look down on Yoh. Yup, nope, that solidified it. I don't like them.

Bless baby's heart. He is so anxious. I'm in love with Segasaki straight away because I think he fell in love with Yoh pretty fast too. Right off, we see Segasaki easily takes control. The way he tells Yoh, "Let's go." and grabs his arm then backpack to control Yoh's direction and to push him where he wants. He then keeps his hand there.

Right off, they easily drop into a D/s relationship. This is how you would see a D/s relationship develop naturally. Guidelines are always a good but for the fiftieth million time, lifestyle people are different from scene. We are naturally always Dom or always submissive, so we don't turn that off. It's going to naturally be seen even in friendship, but that doesn't mean that a Dom should expect a submissive friend to just listen. A submissive can always put guidelines and boundaries up, but to think that these relationships don't organically happen is ignorant. Yoh is submissive right off the back, just look at how he asks Segasaki if this is okay. Segasaki is Dom right off the bat.

I adore how close they are to each other. Segasaki has no concept of space when it comes to Yoh. Oh, these two. In the way, Segasaki asks Yoh what he is doing. Sees Yoh's indecisiveness, finds a book, and then gives him a command. Fulling expecting Yoh to absolutely tell him what he thinks of the book. "If he were to suddenly despise me, it might be the end of me." Those some deep feelings there.

I can't wait to see Segasaki's side of things!!! We know that Yoh's perception of things are easily distorted by his emotions. He is inclined to having a glass half empty mindset.

Please note, that Yoh as of yet hasn't acknowledged Segasaki's message. The submissive is not listening. We are not looking at a slave or a deep submissive.

Hahaha. Being drunk and clingy are absolutely who he is Mickey my dear.

OMG, This is the best! I'm Dying. I love Segasaki and I love Segasaki's personality and his jealousy. I'm in love with these mother fucking characters oh so much.

The way he stomps over and pulls back the curtains. "You can finish remotely right." I assure you, Segasaki wasn't actually asking a question. Still, Yoh faced with an angry Dom says yes. Said angry, Dom grabs him and begins to pull him away.

Leaving Minnie and Mickey both stunned and impressed. I think Mickey just developed his first guy crush.

Bombastic side eye. Oh damn... Here comes the miscommunication. Yoh is talking about Segasaki and Segasaki is talking about Mickey. Poor baby.

Yoh finds the tracker. Boy knows what that is and tells Segasaki, I put it back where I found it. But Segasaki is pissed. He thinks Yoh likes Mickey. Lawd these two. If they ever learn to communicate.

I can't wait for the next episode!!! I'm so in love with these two!!!

#luta talks my personal weatherman #luta talks taikan yoho #segasaki x yoh #luta talks kink #my personal weatherman #taikan yoho #coconuts mafia

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doe-writes-stuff · 2 years

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You'd left. Off to take care of a personal matter in the west. Alone. With no way of knowing how long you'd be gone, or even if you'd come back at all, you'd parted on...strained terms. Despite the odds against ever seeing you again, Daryl made sure to keep a light on for you.

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Slight angst, reader is described to have a female relative (relation not specified). Strong language, 18+ explicit sexual content, mixture of rough sex and slow body worship. Set during first half of season 9, but doesn't follow strict canon timeline or events.

"I should come with you."

"Daryl...you can't." You'd said, regret and guilt dripping from each word forced out of your mouth but doing your best to remain firm. They stung, but you didn't take them back. Didn't try to sugarcoat it. This wasn't easy on you, and no matter how much he understood why, it still hurt to hear. Watching you with your bag already packed hurt worse. "Rick needs you, Judith and Carol, and everyone else. It should just be me."

His head had shaken slowly. "They'll manage just fine without me for awhile."

"This could all be some pointless goose chase, and I...I feel bad enough even deciding to go, like I'm abandoning all of you, but..." He can see it, the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the determination behind them to not let them fall. You hated crying. He knew that. "I need to do this. I need to know. She might still be out there."

"Don't mean you gotta do it alone, Y/N."

"I can't ask that of you."

"Don't have to."

"Daryl-"

"I mean it." He pushes, tone a bit more pressing than before. He shifts closer, drawing your eyes towards his own. He reaches down and takes your hands in his own, thumb idly brushing along your knuckles in comfort. "Goin' out there by yourself ain't safe. Ain't smart, neither. Need someone to have your back. Can't do things alone no more, you know that."

You're silent, worrying your lip beneath your teeth. He can't quite read the expression in your face, in your eyes. Your thoughts are too muddled, swirling with indecision and a plethora of emotions all vying for dominance. Terse seconds pass, silence between you, but eventually you've seem to come to a decision. His heart settles a little, satisfied that he'd made his case. Your head ducks down momentarily, which he takes as acceptance.

Daryl nods. "I'll tell Rick in the mornin' that we're leaving, maybe see if I can pack some extra provisions from the pantry. Doubt it'll take much convincin'. I brought back half that shit anyway."

The only response he gets is a small, slow nod. But it's agreement enough for him, and he pulls you into his arms. It's instinct now to relax under his protective embrace, allowing your fears and your guilts to fall away, if only for a moment. They'd come back in full when you next awoke.

"Come sleep." He mutters against your hair, feeling the way his lips press a kiss onto the crown of your head. Your eyes close. "We'll figure it out in the morning."

Your fingers clench against the back of his shirt, head buried into his chest. He's warm, the beat of his heart a comforting sound. One you know you'll be without for a long while. You make sure to breathe in his scent, filling your senses and making your decision all the harder to enforce.

And so you don't resist when he guides you back to bed, and you savor the way his hands feel on your skin. Devotion and love spill from his lips and yours. And when you lay beside him, listening to his even breathing as he falls asleep amongst the tousled covers, you try burning this memory into your head forever.

'Don't come looking for me.' 'I hope you can understand. I hope you can forgive me.' 'If it'd been Merle, wouldn't you feel the same?' 'I'm sorry. I will always love you, no matter what, no matter how long. Even if...I don't make it.'

Daryl stares down at the messily-scrawled note folded on his nightstand. He'd read at least 3 times by now, but had barely paid attention to the past few, the words blurring together. Noting the dried tear-stains on the edges, he feels a hollowness creep into his chest. It's as you say in your letter. Had it been Merle, all those years ago back at the prison, he'd have done the same.

He understands. He wished he didn't.

It would make it all easier to hate you. But he can't bring himself to.

The beginning days are the hardest. Your absence is a blatant, empty spot in his daily routine. He'd turn to say something to you, only for you to not be there. He'd stop by the house after hunts and scavenge missions to see you, only to remember the lights would be off and you'd not be home.

Each instance of forgetting, just for a split second, that you'd left sticks another proverbial knife in his chest and twists. They bring back the moment of discovering you'd left him behind all over again. It stung. It twisted the hilt a little bit more, digs the blade in a little deeper. It fucking sucked, each and every time.

Daryl had an excellent poker face, but even the others were beginning to notice how much it was affecting him. It was a lesson in patience, the amount of times he'd been asked if he was alright in those first few weeks after you'd left. Most of them he'd been able to field off with a gruff 'Just fine.' Others saw past the facade.

Rick had a good sense of things, and he knew Daryl well enough by now that his words often didn't tell the whole story when it came to those pesky internal 'feelings.' He'd asked him along on more scavenge runs, just to get him out of Alexandria. But of course, not one to pry too much into Daryl's business, he didn't ask the questions the hunter knew was hanging off the tip of his tongue.

Carol was one of them too, unsurprisingly. Half the time he thought she could read his mind. She made trips to Alexandria more often, popping over with pretty weak reasons for visiting from the Kingdom. She hovered, appearing at the most unpredictable of times. It didn't take a genius to know why. When Daryl least expected her, she'd be there with an offer to go hunt together. To go take care of Judith so Michonne and Rick could get out for awhile and spend some time beyond the walls.

It helped. He appreciated that Rick and Carol never pried. Rather, they were just...there. A companion to fill the long silences he found himself left with during the day. A distraction when he needed it most, since even solo outings past the walls were often filled with thoughts of you. Having someone else there eased the hurt, and muffled the many negative thoughts that clouded his mind in his moments of solitude.

Weeks stretched, and you were still gone. No means of communication meant Daryl was left to wonder about what you were doing, where you were, and if you were still even alive at all. It didn't get easier with time, the ache in his chest, the missing piece in his life. It just became familiar, and so he worked around it. Sidestepping it each and every morning until it was a constant numbness he had trained himself to ignore.

It was frightening, how easy it seemed to be. How easily he could seem to live without you around. Once upon a time, that didn't sound so feasible.

He felt guilty. He felt bitter.

He hoped you were doing ok.

Daryl didn't talk about you anymore. Not to others. And nowadays, Judith only occasionally brought up your name, asking where Aunt Y/N was, and when you'd be home. He was usually able to dodge an answer by offering to play a game.

There'd come a day when he couldn't get away with doing that, but...well, the time for that hadn't yet passed.

At some point, he'd quit counting the days. That didn't mean Daryl stopped missing you--he certainly still did. But the endless pull towards someone out there past the gates, miles and miles away, wasn't quite so strong. Whether it was a sign of him moving on, or just growing to accept the fact that you'd left...he still couldn't tell.

He didn't want to look into it all that much anyway.

Daryl hadn't heard anyone approaching as he stood smoking on the porch of his home. The wind was strong, and the neighbor's makeshift wind chimes had covered the sound.

"Borrow a smoke?"

His head whips back to see Rosita sauntering her way up to his home, arms crossed and hair tied back in a pony tail. He straightens, reaching up to the inside pocket of his vest to grab the pack of cigarettes as she stops a few feet away. Shaking one out, he hands it to her. After a flick of his lighter, the end begins to smoke and she takes a long drag.

"Thanks."

Daryl only hums in reply, standing there on this windy night, looking out towards the gated and walled entrance of Alexandria.

For several minutes, neither of them speak, enjoying their cigarette in companionable silence. Daryl wondered why Rosita was out so late, but figured maybe she just couldn't sleep.

Eventually, the minutes and lack of conversation gets to her, and she gives a quiet laugh, gesturing towards the door to Daryl's home. "You know you leave that lamp on every night in this front room?"

Daryl glances back, but only shakes his head. "I know."

"Drives Mrs. Beckett crazy." Rosita continues, flicking the ashes off of her cigarette, head nodding towards the house across from his. "Likes to bitch about how you're wasting electricity, or how she can't sleep because she knows it's on. It's like she can't talk about anything else."

"The grid can handle one fuckin' lamp." He mutters without further explanation, giving a shrug.

"I've told her that. So's Eugene, for what good that did." Rosita says with an amused smile, side-eyeing the hunter as she sucked down the last of her cigarette. She tosses it to the ground and digs it into the wood of the porch with her shoe. "Won't stop her from complaining about it, though."

He doesn't bother responding to that. Frankly, he didn't give a shit what Mrs. Beckett thought or wanted. He barely knew the old woman anyway.

"Why do you leave it on, anyway?"

This time, he doesn't say anything, just continues looking out towards the wall. He knows she's smart, that his silence speaks louder than any explanation would. Rosita figures it out quickly, and hums her understanding after a moment.

Another long pause settles, before she shifts in place and watches Daryl's closely when she speaks next. "I got talking with Eugene the other day."

Daryl had a feeling where this conversation was going--a place he didn't really want it to go--but obliged her clear bait anyway. "And?"

"Figured it was about 40 days to Cheyenne, on foot one way." She said carefully, not wanting to push too far, but hoping he still recognized she was worried about him. "35 if she pushed, and much less than that if she rigged a car."

Daryl knew what she was getting at, but still played dumb anyway. "So?"

Rosita saw right through him, but pointed out what they both knew despite that. "Daryl...it's been 6 months."

He straightened, agitation making him fidget, his jaw set tightly. "Don't mean a damn thing."

"Look, I'm all for holding out hope, but...at some point it's time to let go. How likely is it that she's still-"

"Think I'll turn in. Wind's gonna bring a storm tonight." He interrupted suddenly, not daring to look her in the face as he said his goodbye. "Best get headin' home."

He heard her sigh, and that tension in the air made it seem like she was about to say more. But in the end, she took the hint and descended the steps of his porch, footsteps heard walking down the sidewalk towards her own house.

For 8 months and 13 days, you'd been gone. And yet still, as you walked up that road towards the imposing walls of Alexandria, you felt like it was only yesterday that you'd snuck out the gates before the sun had come up.

The pack was heavy on your shoulders; not from supplies, but the weariness of a long journey. Of burdens and the weight of your decisions and actions. They settled, making your bones ache. But you felt lighter and lighter the closer you got to home.

Home. How you'd missed it so much.

And you'd missed him, too. Daryl had never left your mind. Not once.

Maybe the seasons had changed, but you recognized each abandoned car leading up to the Alexandria Safe Zone, even the particularly gnarled trees off to the side of the road. Little waypoints and landmarks that you'd memorized and passed by hundreds of times before. Now, each one seemed to propel your feet that little bit further, encouraging you to keep going.

Almost there.

And when those gates finally did come into view at the end of the road, you nearly cried. That feeling of relief as it washed over you was...immeasurable. Palpable and freeing. You couldn't begin to describe just how much it affected you.

There were, of course, look-outs at the gate for signs of approaching danger. And while you would've appreciated having been recognized after so many months away, you supposed that would have been too much to ask for.

"That's far enough!" The person on watch called, pointing a gun in your direction. From this distance, you couldn't tell who it might have been. "State your name and business!"

"My name's Y/N." You say, holding your hands out to make it clear you weren't holding onto a weapon. Your knife is clearly visible in its small sheath at your hip, but you weren't actively reaching for it. "I've been gone for a long time, but this is my home."

"Right." The person says with doubt clear in their tone. "As if I'd just believe you."

"I want to talk to Rick Grimes, then." You say calmly, smiling when the barrel of their gun lowered just a fraction. You felt a little silly having to name-drop some of the most influential members of the community, but whatever made them believe you, you supposed. "Or Daryl Dixon, or Michonne-"

"Alright, alright, hang on a second." They cried from the tower, lowering the gun and holding up a walkie talkie to their mouth. They spoke too low to hear, but you gathered they were calling into one of the three people you'd just mentioned.

You don't have to wait long, before a commotion on the other side of the gate alerts you to someone's approach. They call for the gate to open. Your heart soars, waiting to see a familiar face.

The metal gate slides open, and a man steps out cautiously. He's a bit rounder in the belly than you remembered--the benefits of safety in the end of days--and the full beard is new. But there's no mistaking the way he walks, and the way his eyes take you in when he steps past the gate's threshold.

A smile's broken out over your face as the two of you walk closer, until finally you embrace Rick with a tight hug, laughing at the reunion. If there was still any doubt that you were indeed a citizen of Alexandria, it was now dashed.

"About time you came home." He says in a rasp, patting his hand against your back in a comforting gesture. "It's been too long."

"I know. I'm sorry." You admit, guilt and regret coloring your voice. "I shouldn't have left."

You pull away, but Rick gets a good look at you and pats your shoulder with his hand. "You felt you had to. It's family. I understand."

You nod, on the verge of tears, but somehow managing to keep composed. "You're family too. Lost sight of that for a little while, I guess."

Rick waves you inside, giving a wave to the look-out at the on watch as a sign that everything was fine. You enter the walls for the first time in 8 months, admiring everything new and all that had stayed the same.

"How's Judith?" You ask.

"Growin' bigger every day. Can hardly believe she's already three." Rick smiles fondly, shaking his head. Then, he turns to look at you. "She asks for you, sometimes. Wonders where you've been."

The thought of seeing the youngest Grimes was appealing, though you were still weary from your travels. You probably didn't have the necessary energy to meet with her just yet.

"I'll see her once I've settled in." You promise, and Rick nods.

"It can wait 'til tomorrow. I'll let the others know you're back in the meantime."

Rick spends the next few minutes filling you in on all that you'd missed while on your trip. You're thankful to hear that most of it was minor little things. At least you hadn't missed another damn war, or anyone you loved dying. That would have been a lot to bear.

As you get closer to Daryl's home, Rick seems to remember something, and hesitates.

"Forgot to mention...Daryl's out on a hunt." He admits, no doubt crushing your hopes of reuniting with your partner that day. "Not sure when he'll be back, honestly, but I reckon he wouldn't mind if you were to stay in his home now that you're back. As I recall, you practically lived there anyway before you left."

Your laugh away the slight embarrassment at his observation, and the amusement is quite evident in his face. "Yeah, I guess that's true..."

"He'll be happy to see you." Rick states simply, stopping just outside Daryl's home as you approach.

"I hope so." You say, sudden doubt creeping in. You grimace a little, stopping at the stoop of the porch. "We didn't exactly...part on great terms. At least...I think so."

Rick reaches out and pats your shoulder again. "I won't lie, he took it hard. But I'm sure he'll make his peace with it, now that you're back. Love has a way of helping you sort things out."

And with that, he gives your shoulder a squeeze, before leaving you at the door to Daryl's home.

Something compels you to just take it all in. It was just like you remembered it being. A lamp stood lit behind the curtains in the front window. Strange...why leave the lights on when he wasn't home?

Stepping inside is a surreal mix of second nature and unknown territory. Daryl hadn't really changed anything in the interior; the couch and side tables and other trinkets around his home were exactly where you'd remembered them to be. But the atmosphere felt so...different. A little hollow.

Were you even still welcome here? You hoped so...

You deposit your pack next to the side table in the hallway, your usual spot for stuff after a run. Old habits, you thought to yourself. You'd put it back where it really went later on, but for now it would do. Your shoes went along with it, bare feet feeling blissfully unburdened without them on. Socked feet pad slowly throughout his home.

It's all just as you remembered, and your clothes are even still in the drawers in the bedroom. You figure that's a good sign, and change into something much more comfortable after a long-desired shower. The water is blissful on your skin, washing away the dirt of your traveling.

As you dry yourself and dress, you can't help but bury your nose in one of Daryl's shirts, reveling in the scent of safety and comfort. And while you may be missing the man himself, for now this would tide you over enough until his return.

With no pressing matters, and no clue as to what to even do now that you'd come home, you decide that a nap was much-needed. It may only be the afternoon, but the miles behind you were starting to make themselves known, lulling your eyelids heavier with fatigue.

You crash on the couch in a heap, falling asleep easier than you had in months.

Daryl didn't understand the knowing smile that Rick had given him upon returning to Alexandria late that night. Not to mention it was strange that Rick chose such a late hour to take watch. Not thinking much of it, he entered the gates and drove towards his home.

The rumble of his bike faded as he shut the engine off, popping the kickstand and standing from the bike. After a long two days of hunting with nothing to show for it, he was happy at the prospect of a nice, long sleep.

The house was dark, save for the light still on in the window, but he paid it no mind, closing the door and shrugging off his pack. He passed by the hallway side-table, setting it beside the other that was sitting by-

His steps halted, eyes swinging down to rivet themselves on something that was so incredibly familiar and yet so out of place. At first, it hadn't even registered that something was amiss. The sight of a pack here was so ingrained, that nothing had jumped out at him. But now...

He hadn't left that there. He didn't even own a backpack like that. But he recognized it all the same. And beside it...

Shoes.

A noise further into the house caught his attention. The spill of lights from the kitchen told him someone was there. He'd been certain to turn off all the lights before he'd left for his hunt.

And while a tiny sliver of his brain thought to suspect something malicious was going on--visitors didn't typically stop by at 2 in the morning--the hope that soared in his chest overpowered it.

It felt like the air was yanked from out of his lungs as he stopped just outside the kitchen entryway. There you stood, swaying back and forth to whatever music you were listening to in your headphones, the makings of a sandwich out before you. You faced away from him, unaware of his presence.

Daryl let out a stuttered breath as he ran a hand down his face, a swirl of different emotions welling in his chest. He was...pissed, actually. You'd left him behind all those months ago, lied to him to do it. All of the old anger bubbled and surfaced at the sight of you. He was hurt, wondering how you could have gone through with going off on your own, leaving your fellow survivors in your rearview.

At some point, he'd thought long and hard about exactly what he was going to say to you, should he get the chance. He'd known precisely all the bitter and spited words he'd want to throw into your face, telling you exactly what you'd put him through all this time.

He couldn't recall a damn single word of it now.

And despite how the wound had been ripped open seeing you in the flesh after all this time, despite the anger that raged and threatened to speak the venom that had once consumed him...he was too relieved to see you alive, safe, and in one piece to bother channeling that anger.

At the end of the day, you'd still come back. You'd come home. To him.

Instead, just below the relief of your return, rising steadily and with such intensity he hadn't anticipated, was a desire he hadn't felt for so long. How many nights had he lay awake, recalling memories of the softness of your body, the touch of your fingers on his skin? And now that he had you here...

His feet carry him forward before he can really think about what he was doing.

It's the movement in your peripheral vision that makes you look sharply up at him, startled but the sudden presence of someone else. You hadn't anticipated being interrupted during your midnight snack.

But he's here. He's there, getting closer by the second. You yank your headphones out, holding out a hand. You probably should have rehearsed what you'd say to him beforehand, to try easing the hurt and betrayal he must feel.

"Daryl, I'm sorry...I-"

You can't manage anything after that, given his lips smash to yours in a bruising and long-overdue kiss. Shock sets in for a single second, a mumbled grunt swallowed by his mouth, but then leaning into his embrace as his arms wrap around you, pulling you in, was instinctive. You fall into that familiar, safe feeling, wondering if perhaps this was always how your eventual reunion would have turned out. Daryl was always a man of action rather than words, anyway. The time for apologies could come later.

You can hardly breathe, locked in his arms, at his mercy. He kisses you like he never thought he'd ever get to again. And maybe for the longest time, that's exactly what he'd thought. A pang of guilt stabs you through the heart, realizing the sort of pain you'd caused him by leaving, but Daryl doesn't give you the chance to dwell on it, teeth slowly dragging back along your bottom lip and pulling a whine from your throat.

And, god, how desperate you sounded...it made him groan. That sound haunted him for weeks on end. How could you so easily rile him up like this? You leave for months, and all it takes is a pretty little noise to get his blood boiling with need. Fuck if he wasn't just as desperate for you, too...

He couldn't stop himself. Like a recovering addict caving, going back to his fix, his hands touch you any place he can reach, rough palms smoothing over your curves. The clothes in the way is annoying, confining. Part of him wants to yank and tear them away from you, but another side wants to try calming himself down, taking this first time together again slow. It had been so long, he didn't want to fuck up the first chance he could.

Your mind is a hazy fog of sudden lust, so much so you barely register the way he's reached down to lift you by your thighs and wrap you around his waist. His strength has you dizzy, drunk off of his scent and his warmth and the way his fingers dug into the skin on the back of your thighs. It made you tighten your legs around his waist, the sensation of him walking you somewhere else secondary to the way you did what little you could to grind yourself against the crotch of his jeans.

You wouldn't have been able to answer if later asked how you managed to get to the bedroom so quickly. One second you'd been in the kitchen, and the next you were being slammed onto the comforter by your back, Daryl's large and corded frame practically smothering you in the best way.

Your head tilting back with a pleased sigh, Daryl takes the opportunity to latch onto the exposed skin of your neck, intent to leave a mark. The thought of something permanent on you, from him--a sign of some sort that he couldn't put into words at the moment--felt important. And by the way you were moaning as he gave the flesh a rough suck, you seemed to agree.

One hand trails under and up his shirt, taking advantage of the closeness to explore the body you'd gone so long without once more. The familiar texture of scars in all the places you remembered. Muscles like gentle ridges under your fingers. They trail along his nipples, stroking in appreciation and pulling a surprised grunt from him, before frustration kicks in and you hastily tug the shirt up so he could take it off.

It's discarded somewhere behind you, and thus begins the frantic undressing of each other, heavy, panting breaths making it clear just how much neither of you were able to slow down now that you'd started. There'd never been a greater need to eliminate all barriers between you than now. As soon as his jeans and underwear are low enough to expose his hard length, your hand takes hold of it, giving him several loving pumps.

His curse is stuttered, wavering. Barely more than a huff of air released as the tension between you grows steadily. Daryl wastes no time in reaching for your wet cunt, two fingers plunging in without preamble. Your back arches up, wanting more. A keening noise escapes you, and hearing it just spurs him to start a fast and demanding pace as he fucks you with them.

The wet sounds they produce are obscene, but your head is nearly bursting with how damn good it all feels. You're a moaning mess, trying desperately to keep up with your own ministration of his cock, wrists working back and forth a little faster. His hips thrust into your hand instinctively, seeking more friction, a faster pace, something more. And while you know Daryl typically tries to keep quiet in the midst of sex, he just can't help the groans this time around.

Maneuvering your leg around his waist, you draw his hips closer to where you need him, lifting your own to brush your wetness against his hardened shaft, tantalizing and teasing. The time for foreplay was over, at least in your mind. Heart pounding a painful beat in your chest, you can't imagine waiting any further to feel him fill you entirely.

Daryl's fingers retreat from your wetness, and although their absence makes you groan, the press of his tip is more than enough to sate your once more.

Strangely, he doesn't immediately thrust in, rather pulling his head back enough to just...look at you. You look back, silent. One hand, still wet from your own arousal, trails delicately over your nakedness, over the curve of your hips and the sides of your breasts, as if reassuring himself that you were real. Or perhaps taking the opportunity to relish in having you underneath him once more. The jarring contrast to the frantic pace you'd both just been exhibiting has you blinking, struck silent.

But the moment is over almost as soon as it began, cut short by the jerking of Daryl's hips, sheathing himself fully to the hilt in one smooth motion. A mixture between a gasp and a whimper is jolted from your throat, the pleasure catching you entirely off guard. You barely have time to wrap both legs around his waist before he's setting a steady pace, his own ragged breath exhaled onto your shoulder.

He fucked you rough, sparing no time in reminding you of just how much pleasure you'd missed out on all these months. The familiar yet forgotten sensation of his cock stroking your inner walls had you crying out, overwhelmed, wanting more. Your nails dig into his skin, scratching and clawing when the pain only spurns him on faster.

You're mesmerized by the flexing of the muscles in his arms, hands planted on either side of your head on the comforter, fisting the fabric between his fingers as he pistons his cock deep inside of you. And when your eyes follow the arms up and peer into his face, his expression is a mixture of frustration and adoration the likes of which you had fantasized about during your many lonely nights.

Anger flowed like water behind his eyes, recognizable even now, but it never lasted long. Always overshadowed by such relief, such love, that you began to wonder if you'd ever seen it at all. Talking would come later. Right now, you both just needed him to fuck you until you couldn't stand up.

You weren't destined to last long. The time away meant that your orgasm built up much quicker than you would have hoped or expected. It just felt too good, having him atop you, inside of you, surrounding you this way. All you could see and breathe was Daryl, and that alone had your legs tensing around his hips in unspoken warning of your impending orgasm. With a responding groan, he understands, putting further effort into the snap of his hips, plunging even deeper than before.

When you cum, it's like white-hot frost crackling over your senses. Inch by inch, you feel yourself shudder, letting the peak of your pleasure overtake you until you're seeing black dots at the edge of your vision. Your limbs lock around Daryl like a vice, making it more difficult for him to move as you ride along the bliss. He grunts, unable to do much more than rut against you, chasing his own release in any way he can.

As the most of the orgasm passes, Daryl shifts and uses his hands to pry your legs apart, keeping them wide as he frantically thrusts, ragged breathing giving away just how close he was. You're a twitching heap beneath him, letting him seek that edge with your body, accepting the overstimulation in stride. When it nearly proves too much to bear anymore, he's stuttering a moan and slowing his hips down remarkably, chest heaving when he finally meets you over that crest.

Lazy thrusts work the both of you through your climaxes, and the rough and unrelenting pace that had been there just moments before slowed to a much more relaxed one. As Daryl caught his breath, he lowered his mouth to your skin, shaking hands caressing the sweaty skin he could reach, peppering kisses on your stomach and sternum.

You lack the breath to speak, and simply let all of your inner feelings shine through the gentle gaze you give him, tentatively reaching a hand up to glide your fingers through his hair. He always used to love when you did that, and it seemed that was still the case. His eyes closed in content at your touch, and he lowers his head to rest upon your chest.

Eventually, after dozens of minutes simply laying there, basking in the aftermath of your reunion, you summon the forethought to recognize you should probably clean up after your passionate fuck. The heat was slowly dying away, the house's draft that never seemed to go away chilling the sweat upon your skin. However, when you try to move, Daryl makes an effort to put a stop to it, leaning more heavily into you.

"Not yet" He mumbles gravely, not opening his eyes. You huff a breath, the corner of your mouth lifting in amusement.

"Daryl, we're all sticky and sweaty."

"Just...stay here." He says, eyes finally cracking open to peer into your own. And try as you might, you're at the mercy of the heartbreakingly pained gaze he directs at you. The vulnerability. The hurt. Months of uncertainty and guilt and anger stirred up into that one look, pleading for you to understand that he just needs you here. Right here, and nowhere else.

The amusement shifts into something gentler, and you give an affirmative nod, trailing one finger down his cheek. "Ok."

#daryl dixon #daryl Dixon x reader #fem reader #the walking dead x reader #twd #the walking dead #scenario #daryl Dixon smut

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ovwechoes · 20 days

Note

sfw and nsfw roadrat headcanons pls! :)

RoadRat / Roadhog x Junkrat Headcanons (SFW/NSFW) I love roadrat so I'm surprised I haven't already written for them, so I hope you enjoy them anon! Thank you for the ask and the nsfw headcanons are under the cut (please don't read if you're under 18).

Who confessed? How did it go? Definitely Jamison - he's the type of man who'll blurt it out without thinking because it's been held up inside him for so long. At first, when Jamison did confess to Mako, he wasn't believed and Mako thought it was some form of a joke or something else that became construed or exaggerated. He questioned him, asking him what he meant by that which made Jamison retreat back into himself, becoming shy to explain. With further poking and prodding at Jamison, he finally explained that he had been interested in him as more than friends for some time, and it was eating him alive not knowing how Mako felt. It was an earnest conversation, but Mako needed time to gather their own thoughts and figure out a way to explain how he felt, or what he felt even. It took a couple days of isolation from each other, with Jamison's mind going literally mushy from anxiety and stress, but it was worth the wait with Mako saying he'd be interested in exploring something, just not putting a label on it until he knew exactly what they were to each other. Labels are important to Mako, so he didn't want to commit himself to something that was just a fleeting moment of emotions for Jamison or himself. Their relationship grew from there, and Jamison's confession story is told by anyone who'll listen in an effort to tease the smaller man.

How do they show their love to one another? Mako shows his love for Jamison with physical touch - he's not a man of words by any means, and views them as pointless if your actions don't match with your words. So, he enjoys showing he loves Jamison through touch - a hand rubbing his head, holding him while he's asleep, things like that make his heart skip beats and feel as though he's telling his partner he loves them without having to say a word. Jamison, on the other hand, likes to show love through words of affirmation at the start of a relationship. You can't tell me this man isn't guilty of things that could be considered love bombing, completely enveloping Mako in his love through words and compliments and statements of his undying appreciation. It would've been overwhelming for others, but Mako's used to his theatrics and appreciated the time spent using those words to describe him and their relationship. Now, after some time's passed and they're out of the honeymoon phase of their relationship, Jamison likes to show his love through gifts. Whether it's things he's stolen or made for Mako, they're still things he loves to adorn on him and make him feel loved with. He'll often plan elaborate heists for the two of them to do, just to steal something he's had his eye on for Mako only.

What are their favourite dates to do together? Jamison's favourite date to go on with Mako is definitely heists - if he had it his way, he'd do them every day with his partner if it meant that they could spend more time together and get something out of it. However, when they're laying low or trying to avoid the criminal life for some time, Jamison enjoys shopping dates with Mako, often pointing out things he'd find would compliment him or of interest. Otherwise, simple dates like working together on some new weapon or going for a bar crawl together in Junkertown is enough for him. On the other hand, Mako isn't a fan of huge dates with dinners and candlelit rooms. He enjoys isolation with his partner, enjoying the time spent more away from other people so he can be his authentic self, without having to put his guard up. Mako loves date nights in, watching horrible movies with a bottle of rum between the two of them. It's important for him to have some downtime, so being able to with Jamison's something he'll never take for granted. He's happy to oblige to other dates, though, even if he has to bite his tongue through them or remind Jamison he can't take whatever his eye is sparkling at.

Do they go on holiday? If so, what do they enjoy doing together? I like to think so, but not intentionally - they've started taking a few days extra out of their heist plans so that they can explore whichever country they're in together before completing their mission. It's helped them bond more, opening themselves up to new opportunities and exciting things. Mako was forced by Jamison to do thrill seeking activities while they visited the states, to which Mako will never live down. Mako, though, forced Jamison to try things he would never have ever ate otherwise, taking him to authentic restaurants to push his limits and food tolerances. They enjoy doing anything together, but Mako will always reject theme park dates and restaurant dates, complaining that they're too crowded and not his style. Jamison's dragged him to theme parks though in spite of this, desperate to convert him into a lover of rollercoasters.

NSFW below!

Who's more dominant and more submissive? Jamison's more dominant than Mako, enjoying servicing him and providing the pleasure to him. They're not necessarily kinky, but Jamison always takes a naturally dominant role in sex. However, he's the receiver with Mako being the giver. Mako enjoys submitting, simply because he enjoys being pleasured more than pleasuring others. He views sex as an animalistic need, and something he doesn't entirely need in his life to feel satisfied, but he loves to be pleasured by Jamison and finds it intoxicating.

How often do they have sex? Because of Mako's lower sex drive, they don't have sex as often as Jamison would like, but Mako always offers a hand to Jamison if he needs it. Jamison's sex drive is higher, but if Mako isn't in the mood he'll simply self pleasure, and finds no shame in his sexual attraction for Mako. They enjoy sex, but have two different opinions on what sex actually is to them, so they don't have sex more than a couple times a week. As a couple, they enjoy foreplay more so than sex sometimes and are willing to give one another assistance if sex isn't something they want in that moment.

What are their favourite kinks to explore with one another? Mako's favourite kink to explore with Jamison is praise, especially when he's being pleasured. He likes to tell Jamison how good he's feeling, and lets go of his silent, almost mute nature during sex. He's not one for words usually, but with Jamison and sex, it's like he's completely different. Mako also likes groping and heavy petting during sex, but he's not a very kinky person (especially when it comes to experiencing it). The most he's done is blindfolding and public sex, which are things he's still warming up to more with Jamison but won't skimp out on. Jamison, however, loves to explore his edging kink with Mako. He likes to make Mako speak to him, tell him he needs him, tell him how desperate he is. It's enjoyable for Jamison to drag words out of Mako, even when he's willing to speak. He also enjoys eye contact and public sex, finding them thrilling and enhancing the sex even more so.

#roadrat #roadrat headcanons #roadhog x junkrat #mako rutledge #roadhog #junkrat #jamison fawkes #overwatch #asks are open #requests are open #overwatch 2 #overwatch headcanons #ovw headcanons #ow2

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