#IF I HAVE TO EDIT THIS ONE MORE FUCKING TIME LOL

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you’d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don’t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[mithriel-of-mithlond]

Thoughts while reading TGR:

Jean's mother drove the point home early by doing what?????

Jeremy's stepfather's brothers are cops ok ok that explains at least some things

The back to back sitting on a bed 😭

BRYSON SHUT THE FUCK UP

JEREMY ALAN?????? Hello????

Ok MATHILDA SHUT THE FUCK UP, TOO

Wasn't expecting one of Jeremy's hookups to make an entrance

"You go away when you go home. "

Derek and Derrick annoying Jean 👌

The peach

Derek's "Oui señor" had me dying 😂

Jean checking Jeremy out in the shower

Kid dying from a beating at Evermore, why am I shocked, I literally gasped

"I didn't know you served" LOL they really are idiots XD

Jean still making sure Cody is comfortable around Pat and Ananya

His fear of food and traveling alone but feeling safe at Laila's 🥺

Jean's pronunciation of Jeremy's name

Discussing a loss of a sibling with Jeremy

Xavier explaining his surgery

THE. FIREWORKS.

Jean stopping himself before he could hit the freshmen 😢

I don't trust the car. Like at all.

ANDREW MINYARD IN THE FLESH

The foxes didn't know about Neil visiting Jean??????? Oh the drama

Kevin you diva, what the fuck was that with Jean at the house, I can't handle the angst

Wow the interview went to shit. Who would have guessed that..

"You are one of my Trojans" 😭😭

Kevjean addressing their trauma 😭 it's a start I hope

'Emotional procrastination' I love that. Nora put into words something I've been practicing majority of my life

Bryson's "You don't know who you're messing with" oh honey, YOU don't know who you're messing with!!

Jealous Jeremy if I squint????

JEAN IN THERAPY THE NATURE IS HEALING

The postcard 😭

Jean's little cup he made

Noah nooo 😭

Jean's motion sickness - me too bro, me too it's so annoying

JEAN TEACHING JEREMY FRENCH What parallel universe is this??

Jeremy taking the stairs with Jean

The "Jeremy"... I can't

Jean's crush on Laila is funny

The banquet oh no

Protective Jean oh yes

Jeremy's choice of lovers oh no

Jeremy's backstory oh no, I need more time to process all of that

Protective Jean again

Jean focused on the game and being literal savage on the court

"HAVE A WINNING DAY" OH MY GOD

Jeremy praising Jean's performance on the court

Why do the interviewers have to destroy everything?

Jean protecting Jeremy against Zane

Zane Reacher, you will rot in hell for this

Coach Rhemann I love you. The way he approached the situation was kinda brutal but it needed to be done. Jean could finally let everything out.

The whole sequence in Rhemann's house

"but better to be reckless fools than Ravens" DO YOU HEAR ME SCREAMING, DO YOU HEAR ME??????

Fathers DO YOU STILL HEAR ME SCREAMING???????

"I deserve to get better" I'M LOSING MY VOICE SCREAMING

Oh no, not the house 🥺 rip Barkbark

Agent Browning is so done with these exy obsessed mafia kids but honestly? I don't blame him

Thea turning on the Ravens 😶

How Jeremy didn't turn out to be a total dick surrounded by family members like that is beyond me.

Another Raven suicide.. and the fact Jean still cares about his former teammates despite all that happened to him at Edgar Allan..

Mathilda bombarding Jeremy with phone calls because she doesn't trust him

Jeremy's favourite color is blue hmmm ok ok

"brown like the gaze that sought Jean out in every room" AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jean and Laila's conversation on the balcony

The whole end sequence with the dog is so precious. The fact it was Jean who picked the pup out, the dog immediately liking him, Jabberwocky Moreau, Jean's bi panic, "the rules have changed". Perfection.

EDIT: Fuck I forgot to write down the disastrous Foxes vs. Ravens game. My bad, it was too late. Anyways, hopefully all of the injured foxes would be back at no time.

[jessiemeows]

Lost & Found

Chapter 3 - Crypts and Traps

A/N: Hi! I would have posted this sooner, but unfortunately, I had a rough few weeks—including losing one of my pets who was 19 years old. This is a longer chapter but things are finally picking up. Over the past few days I've been writing like crazy and got chapter 4 and 5 almost ready but I need to edit the heck out of it first because I know I spelt a lot of things wrong lol. But anyways I should post those in a week or so :) As usual there may be a few spelling/grammar mistakes but I proofread as much as I could

Pairing: F!Durge, OC (Amaya), Tiefling, Selunite Cleric X Spawn Astarion

Rating: 18+!!! TW mentions of violence, blood, corpses, death, and abuse! This chapter will have a few flashbacks of Astarion's and Amaya's abusive pasts.

WC: 3000

Previous Chapters: Prologue | Ch 1 | Ch 2

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Story:

"When you're finished with him, Godey, ensure he's presentable enough to fetch another mark by midnight. A proper bath should do it." The kennel door slammed with a metallic clang that sent shivers down Astarion's spine.

The skeleton's bony fingers twisted in Astarion's silver-white curls, yanking him from the filthy mattress that reeked of mold. "Just a few more lashings, child, then you can clean yourself up."

"Fuck you," Astarion snarled through fanged clenched teeth. He swung at Godey, but his body betrayed him, forced by unseen magic to kneel before Cazador's faithful right-hand man. Astarion’s muscles screaming in protest, but he couldn't move an inch.

The skeleton's hollow eye sockets seemed to gleam with cruel amusement. "Sweet child, if only you'd learn to obey. Things could be so much simpler."

Astarion jolted from his trance, sweat beading on his pale skin as his crimson eyes darted wildly around him. Recognition slowly dawned—this was his tent. Not safe, perhaps, but far from Cazador's cruel grasp.

He'd chosen to trance late in the morning as the others had still slumbered, he had only needed four hours of rest after a night spent jumping at shadows. Every snap of the campfire, every whisper of falling leaves had sent his mind racing back to Cazador. He had assumed the others would have woken but the day had stretched on in eerie silence, broken only by the dying crackle of embers and the gentle symphony of birdsong beyond his tent walls.

It must have been nearly noon. Astarion fell back onto his bedroll, watching sunbeams dance through the canvas above him. Before his trance, he'd basked in the sunrise, marveling at its beauty. Two centuries in darkness had almost made him forget how vibrant the world could be; how the sky painted itself in impossible shades of pink and gold.

A rustle from across the camp pricked his pointed ears, followed by a thunderous yawn.

"Finally," Astarion muttered, "it’s about damn time someone’s awake."

He meticulously arranged his silver curls and tucked his cotton shirt back into his waistband, refusing to appear anything less than immaculate—especially if the cute tiefling companion was the first riser. But when he pushed aside his tent flaps, his hopes deflated at the sight of the wizard, who was busy conjuring a firebolt to resurrect their dying campfire and clanking pots around.

"Ah, good morning, Astarion!" Gale called out cheerfully. "Sleep well, considering....?"

Astarion settled by the fire with a dramatic sigh. "It would be a good morning if it weren't practically noon."

Confusion flashed across Gale's features. He scrambled back to his tent causing great commotion within, returning moments later with an ornate timepiece clutched in his hands. "Why didn't you wake us? We're rather pressed for time, in case you've forgotten about the whole tadpoles-in-our-heads situation."

"I assumed you all needed the beauty rest." Astarion's lips curled into a wicked smile. "And judging by the looks of you, I wasn't wrong."

Gale massaged his temples, clearly fighting back frustration. "This isn't a joke, Astarion. We're racing against time here. I-" He cut himself off with a sharp breath. "Just... go wake Amaya. I'll handle Shadowheart."

"As you wish," Astarion drawled, waving him off with elegant dismissiveness.

While Gale hurried toward Shadowheart's tent, Astarion took his time approaching Amaya's velvet red tent. Behind him, chaos erupted.

"WHY WOULD YOU THROW A BOOK AT ME?" Gale's voice cracked.

"Why are you in my tent?!" Shadowheart shot back.

"Because it's past noon and we need to get moving!"

Astarion chuckled at their squabbling before turning his attention to Amaya's tent. Her soft snores drifted through the canvas, and with nimble fingers, he untied the entrance flaps. The sight before him made something stir in his stomach—a feeling he'd rather not examine too closely. The tiefling lay curled beneath her blanket, clutching a threadbare stuffed bunny. Her usual ponytail had come undone, leaving raven-black and burgundy curls scattered across her face, some strands tangled around her glowing ember-colored horns.

"Cute," he whispered, his dead heart seeming to skip a beat—yet another feeling he'd been studiously ignoring since their first meeting.

He reached out to gently shake her awake, but in a blur of motion, Amaya had a dagger at his throat, pulled from beneath her pillow. Astarion raised his hands in surrender, maintaining his composure despite the knife pressing against his skin.

"Shall we take a step back, darling?"

Horror washed over Amaya's features as recognition set in. The dagger clattered to her blanket. "Gods, I'm so sorry! I was... I was having a nightmare." Her hands trembled as her big, puppy dog eyes darted around the tent, still half-trapped in whatever terror had gripped her dreams.

"No harm done," Astarion said with a roguish wink. "Now we're even. You should join us for breakfast —we've all had quite the lie-in." He spun on his heel and returned to the fire.

Moments later, Amaya emerged, her hair still charmingly disheveled, and settled between Astarion and Shadowheart, who was weaving her long black hair into an intricate plait.

"Good afternoon, Amaya." Gale's smile was painfully earnest as he offered her dried fruit and coffee. Astarion rolled his eyes at the wizard's transparent attempt at courtship."I ate earlier." Astarion declined when Gale extended a bowl to him.

Gale shrugged and added the extra rations to his bowl but Astarion could feel Shadowheart's suspicious gaze boring into him, making his shoulders tense.

Amaya and Shadowheart whispered between themselves, their conversation drifting between hair braiding and other such trivialities. Astarionn, however, could not have cared less for their chatter, though he had wished Amaya was paying attention to him instead though..

"So, what's the plan?" Shadowheart then asked, turning to Amaya, who had barely touched her food.

"Oh, right, um, the temple," Amaya replied, setting aside her breakfast to sip her coffee and wrestle with her tangled curls. "We might find a healer there, or at least supplies we can use."

"I suppose that is our best option at the moment, though this place seems devoid of any people," Shadowheart mused. "Very well —shall we say twenty-five minutes to prepare?"

A sudden, intoxicating scent cut through the morning air—faintly metallic yet strikingly sweet similar to the rich aroma of chocolate pastries that filled Astarion's nostrils.  Astarion's gaze snapped to its source: Amaya had worried her cuticles raw until they bled. He wrenched his attention back to the fire, licking his lips. Everyone’s words began to jumble around him as his hunger began to worsen.

"Does that sound good to you too, Astarion?" Shadowheart’s voice cut through Astarion’s distraction.

"What? Yes, fine, whatever you say." He stood abruptly, retreating to his tent avoiding anyone’s gaze.

----

She was in her dreams from the night prior again, she was twelve, her small feet thundering down the creaky stairs of their cottage. The worn wood groaned beneath each step. She collided with a tall figure— a familiar wood elf with dark hair streaked with silver, and his eyes were wide with fear.

"Daddy, what's happening? Who are those people?" Her voice trembled.

He crouched before her, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. A familiar scent of pine needles laced within the air. "Sweetheart, I need you to go upstairs and lock yourself in your bedroom. Don't come out until you hear my voice. Do you understand?"

"But where's Mommy? And Uncle Vance?" Her small fingers clutched at the strings of his worn white doublet’s collar.

"They're talking to our... guests." His voice cracked on the last word. "Please, hurry." His fingers gently twirled her raven curls in an attempt to soothe the young tiefling.

"But the bad thoughts are coming back," she whispered, her head beginning to pound with familiar darkness.

His grip tightened on her shoulders, eyes boring into hers. "Listen to me, baby. You must fight those thoughts. No matter what happens, always fight them. Now go!" He gave her a quick peck on her forehead before releasing her with a soft push.

Amaya fled upstairs, her heart hammering against her ribs. She slammed her bedroom door, quickly locking it before shoving her heavy oak toybox against it. A woman’s screams pierced the air, and Amaya clapped her hands over her ears, but she couldn't block out the whispers in her mind. The murderous thoughts that grew louder with each passing second, keeping time with the approaching footsteps in the hall.

The scene dissolved, reforming into rain-slicked cobblestones. She was now sixteen, running through streets that stank of stale ale and desperation. Drunken leers from taverns followed her passage, hands grabbing at her clothes, her hair, her skin. A iron-strong grip suddenly locked around her wrist, spinning her to face a human man with weathered skin, grey-streaked beard, and a winged serpent pin that gleamed dully in the street lights

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Alcohol soured his breath.

"Please," she begged, "let me go."

His laugh was ugly. "You think stabbing me would be enough for you to leave? I own you, girl. Get back to the safe house. Now."

"Cralos, please-"

"You heard me, safe house. Now."

She closed her eyes as the dark thoughts plagued her mind, a flood of wonderfully violent imagery —his throat opening beneath her blade, blood painting the cobblestones a thousand different ways; stabbing him over and over again. Her eyes snapped open and she then dropped the blade from her hands, blood covered her hands and splattered across her face. A smile then crept across her features, the urge she had been fighting, finally won.

Reality snapped back into focus as strong fingers gripped her wrists. Astarion's face swam before her, his crimson eyes wide with alarm.

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" His grip tightened. "You nearly walked straight into that trap!"

Amaya yanked free, rubbing her reddened wrist. Before she could retort, Astarion threw up his hands in exasperation.

"I'll disarm the rest myself, since I seem to be the only one paying attention." He stalked ahead, muttering under his breath.

Amaya leaned against the cool temple wall, crossing her arms. Their hope of finding a healer had led them only to bandits and emptiness. A gentle touch on her shoulder made her flinch— Gale, watching her with poorly concealed concern.

"You seem rather lost in thought," he said softly. "And I don't believe it's our little tadpole friend causing it."

She managed a weak smile. "Just on edge. Everything that's happened..."

"Aren't we all?" His hand moved to her back, rubbing soothing circles. "Perhaps what you need is a proper hot meal and several glasses of that firewine we found. Nothing soothes the soul quite like good food and better wine."

"That sounds heavenly," she murmured. Gale then gave her a soft smile and went to examine more of the books they had discovered in one of the abandoned studies. However, her eyes drifted to Astarion, who was watching them with an unreadable expression as he worked on another trap. Pain then slightly flared in her wrist—as she could feel a bit of blood seep into her wrist bindings—and she whispered a healing spell under her breath.

Astarion materialized beside her, making her jump. "Found something interesting." He held up an iron key and a peculiar coin, both gleaming dully in the temple's dim light. "This should open the next chamber."

"An iron coin?" Amaya turned it over in her palm. "That's... unusual but finders keepers." She handed the coin back to Astarion.

"Indeed." His eyes lingered on her face a moment too long before he turned away.

The key led them into what must have been the temple's main sanctuary. Rows of dusty pews faced an altar, and towering statues loomed in the shadows. The air felt thick with age and forgotten prayers.

"Armed scribes," Amaya observed, noting the skeletal remains scattered about. "But no signs of struggle."

Astarion's voice was thoughtful. "I wonder what was so subversive about their words that they commanded struggle.”

“Apparently it was for Jergal given the statue depicting him, the Scribe of the Dead,” Shadowheart interjected, studying the towering statue before them, “Though, I don't think much worship him anymore.”

The bones began to stir and crack before she'd finished speaking. Skeletal fingers clutched ancient weapons as the scribes rose, their hollow eye sockets gleaming.

Gale's witch bolt crackled through the air as Shadowheart's divine magic forced several undead to retreat. Astarion and Amaya found themselves backed against the altar, facing three of the skeletal warriors. Astarion vanished into the shadows, appearing behind one to drive his blade through its spine. He kicked another's legs out from under it, but the third caught him across the face with its blade. 

Amaya wielding her own divine magic, shining as bright as the moon, empowered her glowing shortsword into one of the skeletons rushing toward Gale. But in the corner of her eye, she saw Astarion stumble backward, caught off guard as the skeleton advanced on him

"Shit, Astarion!" Amaya's scream echoed off the stone walls as the skeleton raised its sword for a killing blow. 

Suddenly a luminous flame erupted from her hands, consuming the undead in brilliant light. The skeleton crumbled to ash as she rushed to Astarion's side, helping him to a nearby bench. 

"Te Curo," she whispered, the once bright magic was now fading to a soft glow of a twilight evening, her magic flowing from her fingers to a gash on his cheek. The wound sealed beneath her touch, but she found herself lingering, her hand cupping his face. His eyes had softened, losing their usual sharp edge as he looked up at her.

"Does that feel better?" she asked softly, her heart skipping at their proximity.

"I... yes." He cleared his throat, a faint flush coloring his pale cheeks. "Thank you." He gave a small, almost formal bow before retreating to where Shadowheart was healing a wound on Gale.

The rest of their temple exploration yielded more questions than answers. They encountered Withers, an ancient undead who spoke in riddles and promised to join their camp—though Astarion showed much discomfort for the wraith to join them. By nightfall, they'd returned to their camp, where the promised firewine flowed freely and the air filled with the mouthwatering aroma of sautéed sausages, caramelized onions, and melted cheese.

Astarion sat apart from the others, sprawled elegantly near his tent squinting at a book in his lap, the candlelight casting shadows across his sharp features. When the food was ready, he took his portion to a nearby cliff edge, silhouetted against the now-set sun.

"He seems uninterested in our company," Shadowheart remarked acidly.

Gale shrugged. "Perhaps he just likes to be alone"

Shadowheart rolled her eyes at Gale's remark, as she shoved another piece of sausage into her mouth. 

 "Give him a break, we've all been through hell lately, and literally." Amaya said softly.

Shadowheart nodded, her expression softening and her voice gentle as she replied, "I don't trust him. But I suppose you're right." She then gathered her dishes, tossing them onto the growing pile that someone would eventually have to clean up. "I'm going to pray and meditate for now. Amaya, come find me if you still want me to do your hair," she added with a small smile, retreating to her tent.

Amaya then gathered her courage along with her bowl and approached Astarion's solitary perch. "Astarion?"

"Ah, my dagger-happy friend." He didn't turn, but his lips curved into a slight smile. "What troubles you my dear?"

“May I join you?”

“By all means.” Astarion waved his hand, gesturing for her to join him.

She settled beside him, close enough to feel the strange coolness that always seemed to emanate from him. Overhead the nightsky beforethem was a tapestry of glittering stars, without a cloud in sight. The pale moon shining, casting a slight glow upon the both of them.

"So, not a tentacle to be seen," Astarion mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Amaya speared a piece of sausage. "I could say the same to you."

"True enough. We're all doing remarkably well, considering. Though I'm not taking anything for granted. First sign of transformation, and I'll have to stop that pretty little heart of yours." He tapped her chest lightly, the gesture somehow both playful and threatening. "I'm open to suggestions—knives, poison, strangulation. Whatever you'd prefer."

"If I had to choose..." She set her bowl aside, meeting his gaze. "Make it quick. With a knife."

"A classic choice!" His eyes sparkled. "One clean thrust to the heart, and it's over. Though we'd need a proper blade—can't have me fumbling about with a dinner knife." He paused, his smile softening. "All hypothetical, of course."

"And you?" She tilted her head. "How should I kill you?"

"Oh, you cute little thing." His hand rose to her face, using cool fingers gently tucking a wayward curl behind her pointed ear. The casual intimacy of the gesture sent warmth flooding through her chest. His fingers lingered, plucking a leaf from her hair. "I'd like to see you try. Though perhaps we should focus on finding you a proper comb first. Your curls seem to be collecting half the forest." He purred, voice low and sultry.

The frigid touch left Amaya's skin tingling, and she found herself leaning slightly toward him before catching herself. "Qavzhe, I- Shadowheart told me she was going to help me with something," she stammered, abruptly standing up and hurrying toward Shadowheart's tent, tripping over her own feet, acutely aware of Astarion’s gaze following her.

“What’s wrong with you?” Shadowheart stifled a laugh when Amaya entered her tent.

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Can you just show me how you braid your hair.” Amaya asked, trying to sound casual.

Shadowheart smiled warmly. “So pushy but come here.” Amaya sat cross-legged next to Shadowheart on her bedroll while Shadowheart began to comb her fingers through Amaya’s curls. “You know, I can just do this for you every night until we find a healer.”

“That sounds nice actually, perhaps after dinner?” Amaya said softly.

“It’s a deal.” Shadowheart then began to carefully weave Amaya’s curls into an intricate braid.

----------------------------

End A/N: If you are wondering "Qavzhe" means "gods" in infernal from the translator I'm using :)

[krysmcscience]

I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.

Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:

Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao

this is so stupid :D

Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.

[funkle420]

Turbo Granny blunt rotation WIP

[stardust-moth]

In order to fully understand why it was so hard for Mike to express how deeply he loves El, and why his speech at the end of season 4 was one of the biggest, most important moments for his entire character, we need to look at not just who Mike is as a person, but also everything that has happened since he met her.

Every single time he opens up his heart to her, something horrible happens to her or she's taken away from him almost immediately afterwards.

1x08; he's an awkward little ball of feelings that are way too big for a boy so young. He makes a nervous attempt at confessing and asking her out on a date; when he can't find words that she'll understand, swoops in for a kiss instead. She lights up immediately and smiles. It's a brief moment of hope and pure happiness. Maybe they can have some semblance of a normal life and be normal kids after this is all over.

Minutes later, all hell breaks loose-- they're almost shot, El pushes herself too far until she can barely move, she's almost taken away by the Bad Men, the Demogorgon appears, and she uses the very last of her strength to sacrifice herself to save him and their friends.

He has to watch helplessly as she disappears.

He spends a year caught between believing she's dead and hoping she's still out there somewhere (but if she is alive then why won't she talk to him anymore...?). Kept silent under threat by the lab, he can't confide in anyone or even acknowledge her existence, not with anyone except those involved... but everyone else is keen on moving on and pretending it never happened. He can find some solidarity in Will, at least, who is in a similar kind of emotional turmoil... but it's not the same and it's not enough.

2x9; he is finally reunited with El, and she runs into his arms like she missed him too. She tells him that all those nights he called out to her, she heard him; she was there reciprocating his feelings the whole time.

In a burst of emotions that he's been forced to suppress for an entire year, he lashes out at the reason they've been kept apart (Hopper), screaming and sobbing. It's a massive catharsis for him, and for once an adult is understanding enough to hold him and not punish him for it.

Minutes later, she is going to go headfirst into a pit of monsters, the place where Mike had just firsthand witnessed dozens of people (if not more) get ripped to shreds only hours earlier, and she is going to attempt to close the Gate-- a feat that he knows may take every ounce of her power, just like last time. He cries. He can't lose her again. She promises he won't, and before she can seal that promise with a kiss, they're pulled apart again.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

3x1; all seems to be okay now. He and El are happily together, and he feels comfortable enough to be playful, romantic, and intimate with her. It's the most emotionally open we've ever seen Mike thus far.

For reasons he can't understand (bc there's no way Hopper explained himself beyond "I'm in charge so do as I say or else"), Hopper is angry about it and threatens to never allow him to see her again: the one thing he fears most.

He panics big time and fucks it up in the process by lying to her. During a frantic attempt to apologize while also abiding by Hopper's rules, he runs into her at the mall. He panics again-- if anyone finds her here, and knows that he was here too, it's all over, and Hopper surely won't hear reason. El dumps him cold on the spot, spurred on by Max and her rebellious attitude (and without any context of course). He isn't given much opportunity to respond. He knows he's in the wrong for lying to her, so what could he even say...?

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

It's a hard blow, and he retreats back into himself, unable to get any joy out of playing D&D (which he clearly hasn't lost interest in), back to the deadpan sarcasm and accidentally snapping a little too harshly at anyone whom he feels would take El's place.

3x6; no one seems to understand the danger El is putting herself in. Everyone is berating him for worrying about her safety. He's seen firsthand what these monsters do to people, he's seen firsthand how El pushes her abilities too far. No one is listening.

The words "I love her and I can't lose her again" burst out in his desperation, perhaps before he's even had a chance to realize how deep those feelings run, despite whatever protective walls he's tried to build around his heart to keep it from getting broken again.

Soon after, all hell breaks loose. El is nearly killed several times over, her leg is ripped open, she pushes herself so hard that she breaks herself and loses her powers completely. Her father is taken from her. She's shattered by all of this, and there's absolutely nothing he could do or say to make it better.

She tells him that when he admitted he loves her, she heard him, and indeed she loves him, too... But now she's leaving.

He has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x1; they've been apart for a few months, and write letters back and forth to each other. El's letters paint a picture of an ideal new life: she and the Byers family are doing well; she's starting school and it's going well; she's made new friends, she likes her new home, everything is going well. She seems to be thriving. She sounds happy, maybe even happier than she had been living in Hawkins. Maybe Max was right, maybe she's better off being her own person without him, and maybe the respectful thing to do is step back... It's a small insecurity that creeps up subconsciously. In his replies he holds back, afraid of clinging too hard.

Though there's little logic in it, he's afraid that if he tells her he loves her again, another disaster might strike and this lovely happy life she's finally found might get taken from her. After all, that's what always seems to happen when he does.

4x2; after months of waiting, they can finally see each other again. He wears her favorite colors, picks a handful of flowers for her, and falls happily back into step with how they used to be. Soon that same day, however, reality becomes clear and the facade crumbles. People he was told were her friends show up to torment and publicly humiliate her. She had been lying. She isn't happy here, she hasn't healed, she is right at the edge of a breaking point that he doesn't see coming at all. He can't believe she would lie to him, she's not the kind of person to lie... especially not about something like bullying, something that she was always so understanding about with him.

On that logicless subconscious level, he wonders if it's all his fault-- he should have known somehow, he should have been there for her. She protected him from his bullies, he should have protected her from hers. He tries to come to her rescue. She runs away from him.

He's helpless to save her, again.

4x3; after a night to process everything that happened-- and deciding that the betrayal he feels from her lying to him is nothing compared to the turmoil she must be going through right now-- Mike approaches her in the gentlest way possible, wanting to listen and trying to understand. El, however, isn't receptive at all to his attempts at reassurance. She is at an all-time low, she's given up. She believes she is unlovable, irredeemable, a monster, just a thing that doesn't even have those superhuman abilities to compensate anymore. Mike can't believe what he's hearing-- doesn't she know that she's always been so much more than her powers? She's always been so much more than what she lacks in quote-unquote "normalcy"... None of those things matter, they have absolutely no bearing on whether she's worthy of being loved, because he loves her, completely regardless of any of these things. He always has...

El starts flinging his restrained words back at him, the products of his insecurity and trauma-induced fear. That fear takes hold yet again, and he stumbles, afraid of saying too much or not enough, because surely both could result in pushing her away-- she's retreating, hearing none of it; nothing he tries to say consoles her.

Moments later, local police come knocking. She's taken away in cuffs, and she's so broken inside that she won't even look at him when he chases the police car down the street and promises he'll get her out somehow...

Once again, he has to watch helplessly as she drives away.

4x8/4x9; after days of driving through the heat and dryness of southwest desert, having narrowly escaped being shot at with military-grade assault rifles, witnessing the death of and burying a man whose last words were that El is in danger... After watching dozens of people get mowed down by a sniper in a helicopter, and watching that same helicopter be smashed into the ground in a ball of flames...

There she is. Just as powerful and beautiful and alive as she's ever been. When he runs to her and embraces her, she looks at him like she can't believe he's real. She's beaming a smile right from her soul and it's like all the insecurity and self-doubt that have plagued them both just vanish from existence now that they're in each other's arms again.

Like always, however, the universe comes crashing down soon after. Max is marked for a gruesome death and all of Hawkins is in danger. They're miles away and helpless, and the only possible way for El to save everyone is if she goes in alone. She's stronger than ever, but so is her foe. Once again, she descends to face all the demons of hell on her own, and Mike can't do anything.

She's losing. She's choking. She's dying. He's helpless.

He must be cursed. He must be. Being with her, loving her, allowing himself to admit he loves her, it always brings only pain and suffering and loss. His heart is so full that it's aching, it's bursting out of his chest, and he can't contain it any longer.

She's going to die and it's going to be all his fault, because he fell in love, and it's cursed her.

Just before it all crumbles into utter despair, the earnest support from his oldest and dearest friend-- one who's always shared and understood his feelings of helplessness-- sparks a light of hope in him: "You're the Heart." You're not helpless. You can save her.

The words that come spilling out of Mike's mouth are truer than any he's ever dared to speak before, and it's the most terrified he's ever been, but he has enough courage for this moment. Despite all of the fears that have been building, stifling, choking him to death for years-- fears that the light of his life will inevitably disappear again, and there's nothing he can do to stop it-- despite it all, he pours out his heart to her.

He loves her. He's always loved her. He loves everything she ever was, is, and could be. He can't imagine a world without her in it. She saved him, in every way a person can be saved. And he needs her to live. He believes in her.

And it works. It's music to her ears.

[chaoticlandworlder]

What is with the practically psychotic hate for Lance Stroll? I'm not even his fan- more indifferent- but the hate he gets is sickening. Like just see the recent 'Never have I ever' vid- so many top comments on youtube, instagram etc. are just spouting shit about him (attacking his looks, calling him window licker wtf etc.) based off the 'Never have I ever stood up someone question' (and of course they conveniently ignore all the other drivers that also said they have because it's trendy to hate on Stroll).

Of course, standing up someone sucks but first of all we have no context at all, and more importantly, it's clear the commenters don't actl give a shit about that because they're only hating on Stroll. This is literally just one instance of the way these F1 'fans' are so quick to seize any opportunity to put down Lance. Honestly, it's so off-putting, pathetic and sad.

[applestorms]

i was just gonna leave this as a comment, but my response started spiraling sooooo. guess i'm makin' this a full on post lol =3=" uhh anyways, responding to @skyborneveggie's tags on this post:

#really good analysis #always here for high-functioning depression light takes #i want to add; while Light is better at reading & manipulating people in the moment he also tends to overlook some things in the long run #because of his superiority complex #like his father volunteering for the eyes in matsuda's place #and matsuda in the ending. As much as i like to think of matsuda as wholesome- #-i do think if light played his cards right he could have manipulated him over to kira's side #but he didn't because he didn't think matsuda was important in the grand scheme of things

very good points!! about matsuda in particular— it’s interesting in retrospect how consistently he’s set up as a side character, particularly with how he is almost always immediately pushed off to the side despite that. like, alongside soichiro, he’s really the first member of the JTF we see pre-lind l. tailor (in the anime, anyway. in the manga it’s a bit more ambiguous, though matsuda definitely shows up to mention KIRA bringing the crime rate down in ch.3, still quite early).

he’s always the one counterpoint within the group, playing devil's advocate in a way with how he brings up the pro-KIRA side of things, yet as you say light underestimates him So consistently that he even ends up evolving into a full on joke/shakespearean fool character by yotsuba, which is really what makes his actions in the end so incredibly significant.

i distinctly remember reading that section where aizawa & mogi are getting more deeply involved with near and, in the case of aizawa in particular, are starting to genuinely consider the possibility that light might be KIRA, and just getting sooooooo so SO goddamn suspicious of what matsuda was doing. this was in part because i already had some spoilers about the ending, specifically about matsuda shooting him, but goddamn do his actions start looking suspicious when you begin taking him seriously as a threat. like, while aizawa is starting to live through his own psychological horror novel come to life, realizing that the innocent kid & strong leader he's been taking care of & following all this time might actually have been the fucking serial murderer they've been after for literal Years, here's what matsuda is up to in the background:

(light's face here. fuckin freak LMFAO)

(this one is particularly notable to me as it shows that even aizawa underestimates him— it's not just light, it's the whole damn team. even ryuk joined in earlier.)

(and of course, my absolute favorite example. the contrast between their expressions alone here is absolutely golden all on its own, but matsuda's heartfelt "don't worry, light!! i'll never betray you!!!" in comparison to THIS only makes it all the more juicy:

like, light doesn't even bother responding to him until he's got a goddamn bullet in his hand. he just sits there confident in the expectation that matsuda will lick his soles like a dog. jesus fucking christ.)

anyways, as i was saying: he's mostly just doing a bunch of dumb shit, making silly jokes in the background, fucking around with ryuk and being written off as an idiot by most characters, especially light but again also aizawa and ryuk. AND YET. he is Always hanging around over light's shoulder, lurking somewhere behind him in almost ever panel he shows up in, perfectly innocent to the point where it's can almost be more off-putting than if he were outwardly, actively questionable. like, this panel in particular, and i mean goddamn, just look at it again:

it hits So Hard in retrospect, not just because matusda is the one to shoot light in the end, possibly being his cause of death had ryuk not stepped in when he did, but also because it's true. as incredibly fucking suspicious as this panel may seem if you are armed with the knowledge that matsuda does, eventually, end up being the one to shoot light, it's equally easy to write it off as normal dumbass matsuda behavior because that is Exactly What It Is. and you would be right!! matsuda is trusting of light to a fault— when he eventually breaks, it is Not due to his own betrayal. it's the evidence of light's. and not just of his manipulation of the task force, for years and years and years on end— it's soichiro's death specifically that finally makes matsuda lose his faith in him.

the idea that light could've manipulated matsuda over to KIRA's side had he just tried a little harder is fascinating, but i think i can also understand why he didn't exert any more effort— it was kinda unnecessary. for basically the entire story, from the moment matsuda is formally introduced, to the minute light breaks and admits he's actually KIRA, matsuda is one particularly dedicated conversation away from being a full-on KIRA supporter— or so light believes, anyway. and he's probably not that far off.

really, i'm of the opinion that it's matsuda's existence as this KIRA-sympathetic figure in the task force in the first place that causes light to believe so strongly that he could eventually convert the entire JTF over to the side of KIRA— possibly even saving all of them their lives in the process. like, as i've said before, for all that light monologues about how he's Definitely Going To Kill The Task Force, Don't Worry, I Can And Will Do It When I Have To, he. never actually does it. instead, light goes through all the trouble of keeping the JTF strung along behind him for more than half a decade following L's death, holding on to all of these strings of his former life even when they are almost undoubtedly more of a pain than they're worth. unable to kill his father, unable to kill misa, unable to kill matsuda— even when he directly tries to.

i forget which post this was on, but i believe someone pointed out before that potentially a major part of light's grief following soichiro's death comes from the fact that he springs a shock on him at the last minute before passing: soichiro never stopped suspecting his son. when he sees light's lifespan above his head his first thought is to be relieved, because the question he's held at the back of his mind for Years has finally been undoubtedly assuaged. light is desperate to believe up until the end that he can make the world truly and genuinely pro-KIRA; his final actions in the moments of clarity before he starts begging at ryuk's feet for his life involve an enthusiastic speech as he makes one final bid at converting the JTF and SPK to join him and believe in his vision of Justice.

and yet. he never quite gets mastuda.

never bothered? or never could? perhaps a bit of both, but it's a fascinating character progression nonetheless, and easily one of the most interesting arcs in the series. poor, poor mastuda, indeed.

sidenote: this is a somewhat half baked thought, but i can't help but make a somewhat minor connection between light's treatment of matsuda and his treatment of misa, as well as his relationship with takada. like, let's think through the list of his main (human) supporters throughout the series, the ones who end up taking on the title of KIRA themselves: in the first half, misa, in the second, takada & mikami. if we add matsuda to this list, we get two mirroring pairs: misa & matsuda for the front half of the series, takada & mikami for the latter.

light's treatment of each of these pairs is quite different, despite the fact that they all essentially fulfill the same purpose to him: misa & mikami act as KIRA's eyes, killing those light is unable/unwilling to himself, while takada & matsuda fill the role of KIRA's spokesperson, albeit to very different audiences. thus each half of each pair executes a different side of KIRA's ideology: misa & mikami the practical side, becoming killers themselves, and takada & matsuda the persuasive side, pointing out the positive influences KIRA's actions have had on the population to The People and the rest of the task force respectively.

it's not quite as simple as i've laid out here, of course— tadaka eventually ends up killing before she dies at light's hand herself, misa lives as light's partner until she loses her memories and never quite recovers, mikami becomes quite static, just playing at a killer for Appearances, until his actions eventually end up accidentally betraying light and leading to his downfall. yet it still seems notable to me that despite light treating takada & mikami noticeably better for the majority of the time that he's working with them, those two are the ones who eventually end up dead, betrayed and betrayer respectively. yet, in the case of misa & matsuda... for all that light degrades them and treats them like shit, those two are the ones that get to live on past him while remaining stubbornly loyal until the end, until light's own actions twist back and smack him in the head.

i think perhaps part of the reason why light never ends up converting matsuda is not just his own ego blowing Shit outta proportion and assuming that matsuda will either very easily convert/is too much of a dumb liability to even bother with, but also light's own discomfort with having followers at all. like, it really takes him that full time skip to get fully on board with the idea that people will Submit to KIRA, despite the fact that he logically must know how necessary that is. light wants the recognition and love and commitment of other people, but he doesn't necessarily want the responsibility of their own stupid actions— a sentiment perhaps reflected in how easily he kills criminals, seeing their "evil" as something to be Purged, an annoyance just as much as a liability for the happiness of the Good, Pure People of the world.

as i've outlined before, misa is the main person who's enthusiastic submission consistently gets on light's nerves and icks him the fuck out, but i can't help but wonder if this same reaction applies at least in part to his distaste of matsuda. it's easier to get away from matsuda at least, considering he doesn't have to play the Good, Heterosexual Boyfriend around him, but that doesn't mean it isn't still somewhat present either. this also gets interesting if you start considering lawlight dynamics during yotsuba as well, and L's similar (if somewhat more overt, even) dislike of matsuda during that era BUT. that'll perhaps have to wait until another essay lolol =3=

[strandedcrow]

I just looked through your “my art” tag and I love your artstyle! Are you ever planning on drawing Dream again?

(c!dream, obviously)

no lol

[fideidefenswhore]

the downfall and execution of a tudor queen (2023) / the boleyns: a scandalous family (2021) / the king's pearl: henry viii and his daughter mary (2017), melita thomas / anne boleyn (tv miniseries 2021) / the mirror and the light (2024) / elizabeth (1998)

[vilevampire]

I need to stop doing things related to my hyperfixations/special interests so close to my fucking bedtime lest I lose my fucking marbles

[graciousdragon]

guys...keep your eyes peeled tonight or perhaps tomorrow morning for I Have Cooked Something

[ukusreticence]

self indulgence. he's asking for a dance.

[coridallasmultipass]

Finally got around to buying the Nikke profile stickers I want since I keep drawing dupes! Bought all the Bow Wow Paradise ones!! It was one of my fave events bc I love dogs and dog girls and Happy Zoo and ESPECIALLY Biscuit so much. As you can see, I got all the 'dog' girls as my showcase team, too, lol:

Also, as an aside, I just got a new personal record in Overclock at level 16!! Which is why I remembered I needed to edit my profile when I went to check if it changed to 16 (I think I was at 12 maybe last time they ran Overclock in the Simulation Room).

[tardis--dreams]

I actually realized i hate work. Won't be putting any effort into this anymore ♡

[bmpmp3]

IA 2.0 voisona test with a short version of drag on dragoon's ending B song tsukiru/exhausted :) now i can hear Lia's beautiful dulcet tones sing scary scary songs