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gothmoes · 3 months ago

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𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐚 𝐡𝐜𝐬

❥ pairing: Jenna Ortega x fem!Reader

❥ wc: 2,2k

❥ warnings: long, rambly, and self-indulgent 🫶 no actual ending to wrap this up, will just come back to this when I get new ideas to add.

Jenna is spoiled rotten, and it is no one else's fault than yours. She wants your touch, warmth, kisses, and attention—and she knows she will always get them.

Jenna tries not to be so needy (not really), but now that you’re hers to claim, she can’t help but want to be in your bubble constantly. That girl would live in your skin if she could.

Jenna is highly affectionate. Not only is she hungry for your affection, but she also freely gives you hers. You name it: hugs, kisses, cuddles, bites, licks (she is particularly fond of licking your face and biting you wherever she can reach, for some reason). If it means she will touch you somehow, she will do it.

Velcro girlfriend, in other words.

If Jenna lies somewhere, she calls you over to lie on her. Your weight is like a heated blanket; she loves playing with your hair and caressing your face as you drift to sleep on her chest or soft tummy. It’s a good way to bond when she's reviewing a script or reading a book.

She has a habit of coming up behind you and nuzzling into your back, prompting you to turn and scoop her into your arms.

Height difference is a huge plus! Jenna loves to be smothered by you when you hold her, to drown in your fragrance and melt into the safety of your embrace.

She is very touchy. Not only affectionate-touchy but “will grope you as she passes by you with no particular purpose than to make you squirm” touchy.

She loves to play with your hands. No reason; she loves how your hand envelopes hers and your fingers fit together like puzzle pieces.

Not a napper, or rather, was not a napper until she discovered paradise in your arms. Now, being held by you triggers an instant rush of oxytocin and melatonin that, coupled with the thump of your heartbeat and your warmth, knocks her out within minutes.

Jenna is kind of a baby when sick, but it's your fault. She wasn't like that until you came in and started babying her. She used to be independent and treat her illnesses in a very mechanical and detached way because it was nothing more than a setback from work. Now, she can't imagine having a cold and spending her quarantine without your tender touches.

Same thing when she’s PMSing. The more time you spend caring for her, the better quicker she feels.

Jenna has an insane staring problem—always has and always will. She can’t help but stare at you like you hung up all the stars in the sky; she’s so lucky she has you. Her adoration is ever present in her eyes. It’s one of the reasons it’s so tricky for her to have you around when she’s supposed to be focused. She looks too giddy and happy to hide.

Don’t get her started on your smell—she’s one of those freaky women who inhales you any chance she gets. She loves the way you smell so much. It’s like her entire nervous system instantly relaxes whenever she catches a whiff of you.

Jenna is not huge on stereotypical nicknames. She prefers to have a few significant ones for each other that you probably come up with after an important experience or memory. Hell, she even takes inspiration from her favourite songs. However, she is partial to how “Angel” rolls off your tongue, and she will occasionally slip up with a “Babe” now and again.

Jenna lives in your clothes. The majority of your wardrobe is with her at all times. You might wonder where your favourite hoodie is just to get a photo of her lounging in it five minutes later.

Jenna is a certified yapper with you. She naturally is, but most people don’t get this version of her because she doesn’t feel uncomfortable being herself around them. You are more than happy to hear her speak her mind about any topic she can think of, finding peace in how her eyes light up and excitement laces her voice when she realises she has your undivided attention.

This woman will babble about the randomest topics, even as she drifts to sleep. It’s incredibly endearing, and she never fails to make you laugh with the strange things that endlessly pop into her pretty little head. She doesn’t even need to try to be funny most of the time; she just is.

Jenna is very supportive of you and your goals. Ideally, she wants you to travel the world with her, which is doable if you study through an online program or work a remote job.

If, due to your goals, you don’t have the availability to go with Jenna for long periods and you’re mainly doing long-distance, things get a bit more complicated. Still, Jenna is 100% invested as long as you are.

She is a terrible texter, BUT she does try for you! You can't say she doesn't. The problem is that she doesn’t typically send text messages. Instead, you receive a constant stream of photos updating you on what she’s doing, where she is, who she’s with, what she’s eating, what she’s wearing, what she’s not wearing, etc, with no follow-up. Most of the time, she sends them in faster succession than you can keep up with.

The second common way of communication between you is FaceTime. It’s simply more convenient than texting, given her lifestyle. AND she needs to see you constantly for mental health reasons.

When she does text, Jenna makes your heart swoon. She might not be the best at sending you a “Good Morning” text every day at the crack of dawn (those timezone differences have her fucked up). Still, she never misses an opportunity to show you how much she loves and thinks of you. Sometimes, her messages are a little poem she came up with while thinking of you or a song and some lyrics she heard that remind her of you with no explanation other than “this is you <3”.

She often sends you voice notes and videos to make you smile. Hearing her lovely voice and seeing her angelic face is always a delightful surprise.

This woman is incredibly cheeky. She loves to flirt with and tease you. Sometimes, she does it to get a laugh out of you, and other times, she does it to get a rise out of you. (She gets a big head about eliciting your reaction every single time without fail.)

Jenna is not a great cook, although she grew up with delicious homemade meals. The main reason is that she simply doesn't have the time to hone her skills in the kitchen. Lord knows she tries, though! She expectantly stares at you with those sweet doe eyes and hesitant smile, and you never have the heart to shoot down her efforts.

Despite Jenna’s chatty nature, one of the things she deeply appreciates about you and your relationship is that she takes repose in your silence. She can talk until she tires but knows that she can also exist near you quietly when she needs to without you expecting her to fill in the silence out of discomfort. Her tranquillity with you is unlike anything she’s ever felt. She cherishes those moments as much as any other because your silence is just as precious.

You are the subject of lots of photos! Jenna photographs what she loves, so roughly 30% of her storage is photos of you, while another 30% accounts for photos you’re in, like couple selfies and other lovey-dovey stuff. (The rest has been quickly overtaken by Fig.)

Jenna loves driving, but she also loves being your passenger princess because it’s peaceful sitting beside you, your thumb rubbing small circles over her thigh or her hand clasped in yours with the hum of the car lulling her into a nap.

She loves taking baths together. To melt into your body and forget the pressures of the day.

Date nights are random and spontaneous. Jenna’s schedule is too erratic most of the time for you to nail something down permanently. Regardless, they are enjoyable, a great time to bond and let the world disappear. You both love to explore new cities and get lost together. It’s an excellent way to discover new hang-out spots and restaurants, but you also have homebody moments. Sometimes, all you really need is to be in your bubble, sharing a warm meal, wine, and ice cream. Either way, you always laugh and make out wherever you are.

Movie nights CONSTANTLY. If they’re not your thing, then they’re simply something you do to indulge Jenna, which becomes a bonding ritual you relish.

Jenna worries about you when you’re apart from each other. She likes to be updated when you have important things going on to avoid overthinking and getting anxious for you.

You’re her madness and peace all wrapped into one, and Jenna is not shy about showing you her true colours; you get all of her, and she expects to get all of you.

Jenna is not a morning person. If she has a day free, she expects to enjoy being able to sleep in; otherwise, she wakes up cranky and glaring at everything and everyone. Nothing a long cuddle and some well-placed kisses can’t fix. Even when she wakes up for work, she stays quiet. It takes her a while to fully wake up, but by the time she gets to work, she’s usually her bubbly self again.

She’s not a big spender on herself. She is not interested in things but loves spending money on you.

Jenna low-key tries to impress you, not with her acting, because she dislikes you seeing her act, but with her outfits. You’ve never gone to her fittings because she loves to get your first reaction the day of.

She loves to make you laugh, and it's very easy for her because she's odd. She is absolutely delightful, though, and her unique sense of humour has always been one of the things you most adore about her.

She loves celebrating you in any way she can, but she prefers to do it privately and intimately. Birthdays, holidays, Valentine’s Day, National Girlfriend Day, she never forgets those dates, and she takes pride in showing you her appreciation for you. She also loves to be on the receiving end of your celebratory plans for her. You go all out and have never let her down. (Things might be becoming a bit competitive, though.)

Jenna makes you endless playlists for all sorts of events and moods, but she gets emotional when you do the same for her. It makes her feel vulnerable in the best way that you know her as well as you do.

When she’s upset, she’s not a huge talker. The main thing she needs is your physical comfort, to know that you’ll hold her and let her soften into you, and she can lose herself in your embrace because you’ll shield her from the world. She does open up eventually when she feels more regulated, but normally, she stays in your lap while you discuss her issues.

People know you’re dating. It’s easy to hide if you’re doing the long-distance thing because no one but her sees you, but when you start travelling with her, Jenna can’t hide how happy it makes her to have you around. You blend in easily with her crew, but a few detectives start putting 2+2 together and scrutinize you until she slips up. Which she does. It might be much later than expected, but it still surprises people.

Jenna is not huge on PDA because she doesn’t like sharing your thing with everyone, but that doesn’t mean that she’s good at avoiding it. She prefers to keep you and your relationship out of the spotlight because you’re precious to her, and she values your wish to keep your relationship private, but sometimes, she can’t help herself. The few photos circulating the internet where you’re holding hands or kissing are all due to the fact that she couldn’t keep her hands to herself for long enough to avoid it.

When Jenna gets anxious, she needs you. It doesn't happen often, but it does. A hug, a handhold, just you. It’s not that she expects you to automatically “fix” her; she would never burden you with that responsibility. It’s just that your presence truly is that comforting. Being around you gives her the strength to regulate herself, especially when you’re being closed in by paps or invasive fans. That foreboding feeling that triggers her to be in survival mode feels less menacing and overwhelming when you squeeze her hand or shield her from prying eyes.

Jenna is not a jealous person, but she does get jealous. She trusts you wholly and knows you would never intentionally make her jealous or disrespect her. Still, other people don’t value your relationship the same way. More often than she’d like, Jenna has had to deal with people who are so drawn to you that they’ll openly flirt with you in front of her. She begrudgingly has to admit to herself that she can’t blame people too much, though—you are remarkable and magnetic and so breathtakingly gorgeous. She understands why people want your attention so much, but damn if it doesn’t make her blood boil.

She is very playful and such a tease, but she cannot take what she dishes out for the life of her. As soon as you give her a taste of her medicine, she simply... shuts down and stares.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @freakshow2501

#jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega headcanons #ryn writes.

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rottingworship · 6 days ago

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Bloodlust

[The Proxies x Reader]

Summary: You, a newly turned vampire, find yourself with a new group of friends. One night, things get dicey, leaving you running. When you are found, you come to the conclusion you are very frustrated. Your new friends are more than willing to help you out.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Depictions of murder, blood drinking, biting, praise, vaginal sex, cream pies, oral (male receiving), vaginal fingering, voyeurism, not so healthy relationship dynamics, not beta read (let me know if I missed any!)

Word Count: 7.1k

A/N: They/Them pronouns used for reader, but reader has a vagina. I have a second part of this planned. It will be more rough and definitely not as sweet as this one. I have a lot in mind for Vampire!Reader. The vampires aren't based off any particular media, either. Just a mesh of medias, I guess! this was supposed to be posted in October, but you get it now instead... this was me getting used to writing four characters at once, the next part will be very fun!

Being a vampire is new. Being able to smell everything, hear everything, and see everything is new. Your strength is something you never could have imagined. Sunlight is annoying now, practically burning you. Your body is always cold. You don't have to breathe, but it is something you are still used to doing. And every fucking time you inhale you are greeted with new scents.

Bloodlust though?

That's something you would not wish on your worst enemy. You almost wished you were dead when you woke up from being freshly turned. Or ‘saved’. Your throat was on fire and your entire body burned. Burned for something you did not want, but something you now needed.

Your first kill was horrid. Blood covered you and the victim. You wanted to sob but being a vampire does not let you do such human things.

Now? It's been almost three months since turning, and while you have a dysfunctional but somehow working support system around you, things still suck. Sometimes you wish you had not been spared. You wonder if this is a fate worse than death. But your friends do make it bearable. They keep you fed and do not seem to be judging you when you do happen to get messy. There is only one problem.

They all smell absolutely delicious.

Tim and Brian smell slightly better than your average human. You cannot help but wonder if your brain is playing tricks on you, since you are so close to them. You think that maybe you love them so much they now smell better than most. Toby is a slightly different story. He smells better than anything you can even remember loving as a human. You want to bite him and never let go. Ever. Your brain tells you to attack anytime he enters the room. ‘Latch on and do not release’ is all you seem to hear.

You have yet to have an incident around the men. They are careful with their sharp objects, and you are careful with your sharp teeth. There has been no instance where you have smelled them actively bleeding. Not until Toby decides to get your food by himself.

“Y– You-your eyes are changing.” Toby notices before anyone else. Normally, at least now that you aren't human, your eyes are red. Blood red. When hungry they get darker, until eventually, they are black. “I'll go get-get you some fresh bl-blood.”

He leaves before you can protest. Some time passes, about two hours, and Toby has not returned. He is pretty quick with his outings. You have grown anxious.

“Tim!” You shout as you walk down the hall, “Brian! Toby left and hasn't come back!” Brian's door opens first. Then Tim pokes his head out. You pout at the both of them and wait for them to come out of their rooms.

“Well shit,” Tim starts, “I sure wish we had something better than a bloodhound to find him.”

��Yeah, that'd be fucking insane.” Brian smirks at you.

“Ok, guys, I get it. I can smell him, but-” you fidget slightly, “I don't trust myself.” The mood shifts immediately. They both sigh and step out of their rooms. They meet you in the hall and you let them take the lead. “I can hunt him down. I just need my accountability partners.” You force a smile. You are joking, but only slightly.

“Accountability to not fucking murder Toby?”

“Suck him dry,” Brian laughs, “and not in the way he wants!”

Tim snorts. You blink at them. You stop and cross your arms. “Now is not the time for jokes…”

“I'm really not joking,” Brian shrugs and keeps walking.

You ignore him. A scent like nothing you've ever smelled before hits your nose and you almost moan. You cover your mouth and freeze. Your eyes widen and you look at Tim and Brian. “He's somewhere near.” It's taking all of you to not sprint towards the scent and devour him. “Someone is with him. I can smell more blood, that isn't his.”

Tim mumbles a ‘damn’ under his breath and you begin to take the lead. Toby is obviously hurt somewhere, potentially fighting someone off for you, and you need to find him. And not kill him. As you get closer the smell is taking over everything. A trail of blood appears before you. You stop yourself from figuring out if it is Toby's or whoever else is bleeding with him.

You see it, some man sprawled out, bloody and dying on the fall leaves. You begin to approach the body, hoping that if you feed, the want, no need, to ‘suck Toby dry’ leaves you. You do not get that far. A leaf crunches beside you, and Toby appears. Your head snaps towards him and you inhale sharply, your eyes narrowing. Your fists ball up immediately. He waves at you, says hi, and all you can do is hope you don't pounce. Your eyes scan him, and you see his thigh is slashed.

“Hey,” you hear Tim call your name. Blood is steadily coming from the cut on Toby’s thigh. You see it. Your eyes, dark and full of hunger, do not move from Toby. The need to feed is becoming stronger than the want to keep Toby safe. Toby does not move. It is almost as if he knows he's become the prey. Another crunch of leaves and a hand is grabbing your face. Harshly. “Hey.” Tim sounds much sterner. “Look at me. Focus on me.” Tim’s thumb rests on one cheek while his fingers grip on the other.

“I– I can't.” You want to sob.

“Okay,” Tim nods, “focus on that body.” He points to the twitching body on the ground by your feet.

Without thinking, you drop down on your knees. You grab the body violently; hatchet marks cover them. Your teeth sink into the soft flesh of the neck, and you begin to feed. You let out a low primal growl. Tim, Toby, and Brian, all watching you. Normally, they let you feed in peace. They never had watched you before. And now, here they are, staring at you, the back of your head burning from their stares.

You pull back from the neck and begin to bite and suck down the arm, getting as much ‘food’ as possible. Blood covers you. Your hands, mouth, and throat. By the time you are done you wish to cry. But you cannot. You are stuck, sitting with a bloody, dead body. Your friends are surrounding you. And your bloodlust is still lingering.

You turn towards Toby and watch him closely. Brian seems to have a sort of makeshift tourniquet on Toby’s thigh. The scent is still so strong. Your eyes hit a bloody knife inside the dead man's hand. The one he used to cut Toby.

“Don't-” Brian seems to know what you're looking at; know what you're thinking. You don't listen. Your hand snatches up the knife and you are quick to lick the blood up. Your eyes screw shut and you almost shiver. It is heavenly. It is not enough. Your head snaps towards Toby again and with a speed faster than the others can process, you are on him. He is on the ground faster than he knows it and you are leaning over him.

“Toby–” you growl, teeth gritting together, fangs bared.

“D-do it.”

Tim and Brian are frozen, watching in horror. You are much stronger than the both of them. You are stronger than the three of them put together, there is nothing they can do.

“Go a-ahead.” Toby is smiling under his muzzle. You are straddling him, pressing against his stomach, and your hands holding his shoulders down. You let out an animalistic noise, lowering yourself closer to Toby. His heart is pounding in his chest. He is not afraid though.

Far from it, actually.

It clicks. How he feels clicks in your head, and you are almost sent into a worse frenzy. You let out a strangled groan and leap up from Toby, and tear off deeper into the woods, going the exact opposite direction of your home.

Once your head is finally on straight, and you can think without wanting to murder, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city. Your shirt and pants are slightly ripped up from running through the thickest part of the woods. You, naturally, are unscathed. You cannot bring yourself to go home yet. You cannot hurt Toby. Dried blood covers you. It’s stuck to your skin; you feel it more than ever; painfully aware of how it’s dried and caked onto you in some areas.

You need to stay out of the sight of people, you know this. You don’t think that anyone is going to react normally to you. As you walk beside the almost empty road you look up at the sky. The moon is full; the stars are shining brightly. You sigh. Out of the corner of your eye you see headlights approaching, and they pass you just as quickly as they appeared. You look back at the road ahead of you and wrap your arms around yourself.

You hear tires screeching from behind you and the car that just passed turns back around, heading right for you. You look back at the blinding headlights and realize it is Brian’s car. You scrunch your face. You turn and keep walking. The car comes up beside you, and Brian rolls the window down. He looks over at you, your name rolling off his tongue. You do not look over.

“You aren’t running,” Brian states.

“Thank you for letting me know.” You huff.

“You don’t want to run,” Brian’s words make you stop. He pulls ahead a bit before pulling over on the side of the road. He gets out of the car and approaches you. “Listen,” Brian sighs, “something is going on–”

“No shit!” You snap. If you could, you would be crying right now. Everything is so much; everything is so, so amplified. You do not want to feel the need to eat the people who saved you. But here you are. Even now, you are keeping yourself from inhaling. You know Brian isn’t bleeding, and you are not hungry anymore, but your earlier actions have startled you. “I could have killed Toby! And you wouldn’t have been able to stop me!” You grip yourself tightly, holding your ripped sweater like a lifeline.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Brian comforts you. “You didn’t kill him. Toby really liked that anyway.” He smiles at you. A goofy grin. Your eyes drop to the road, and you instinctively suck in air, and you sigh out in frustration. Brian’s scent floods you. Your eyes look up at him and narrow. “Um,” He wants to take a step back, but he does not, “are you okay?”

Your brows furrow, sadness taking over. “I don’t… I don’t know.” You shake your head. “Brian?” He hums in response, and you continue. “I haven’t told anyone, but the three of you, especially Toby… You all smell different.”

“Like, stinky?” He seems concerned.

“Uh, no.” You laugh nervously. “Opposite, actually.” You rub your arm, comforting yourself. “You and Tim smell a lot better than the normal person, and Toby? He smells absolutely heavenly. That’s why I nearly lost it earlier. He smelled way better than that person he had handpicked for me to feed from. I can smell you guys even when you aren’t bleeding. It’s a lot. But bearable. I didn’t realize how much active bleeding would amplify it.”

“You didn’t realize?” Brian asks. “It’s out, it’s going to smell better. I would assume.”

“I know!” You want to yell. “I didn’t think… I’m just– Ugh!” You throw your hands up and walk past Brian, heading back towards the unknown.

Brian groans, spins around, and grabs you. “Stop.” You do not pull away. “You aren’t running, once again, you don’t want to run. If you did, you’d be gone by now. Look,” Brian stays where he is; behind you, holding your arm. You peek over your shoulder at him. “I know you don’t want to leave-”

“I have nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not the only reason you stay.”

“I don’t know why you came out here. I just tried to fucking kill Toby. He could have died, and so could you.”

“I’m here because we obviously want you around. You’re going through something, and we are not going to just let you leave because of that.”

You deadpan, “I’m also useful to you guys, and The Operator. I know that’s why I’m kept around. I’m surprised he didn’t try to stop me when I left.” You roll your eyes.

“Come on.” Brian maneuvers around you, “I can’t lie, you are useful. But you’re also kind and funny. And really hot.” Brian shrugs. “So,” he motions towards the car, “please get in the car and come back with me.”

You blink at him, baffled. “Hot?” You almost scream. “What the fuck!?” You throw your hands up again. Brian is caught off guard. You let out a loud groan and debate on flipping his car and leaving. You look towards the car and back at Brian.

“What are you thinking…?” Brian is cautious.

“I'm just frustrated!” You do scream this time. Eyes shut tight and fists balled.

Brian takes a moment before speaking. “Sexually?” He asks, completely nonchalant.

“Maybe!” You look at him, huffing. “Maybe…” You speak a little quieter. You throw your head back and whine. “I just need to shower…”

Brian motions towards the car again. “You can do that at home.” Home. You freeze. It is your home. It has been for a few months now. You, in discomfort, make a face at Brian. He groans, “What now?”

“How do you trust me? I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.” Brian begins to walk towards the car. “Now come on.”

You are stuck. “Really, why do you think I wouldn’t hurt you?”

“Because I trust you, let’s go.” As soon as Brian says this, you shake your head. You need more answers. “I see the way you stare at us; you won’t hurt us.”

You look up at the sky, “Not intentionally-” Your nose burns. You inhale slowly and the feeling of wanting to pounce is returning. You look back at Brian and see him approaching you, a cut across his palm. He’s holding his hand up and out, his palm facing upwards. You are frozen, fighting the urge to destroy him. “Brian,” You whisper, eyes narrowing, “What are you-”

“I’m showing you something.”

“What if I kill you…?” You take a step back and he keeps on walking. He reaches you, his hand going towards you. “Brian, I’m being so fucking serious… I can’t control-”

“You aren’t starving anymore. You won’t hurt me. You can control it. You did earlier with Toby, and I don’t smell as good as him-”

“Brian…” You can’t look away from his cut. “Can I-”

“Go ahead.”

You, realizing how much stronger you are than him, make sure to gently grab his hand. You are thinking everything over a million times before you do it. The world is spinning and standing still at the same time. Brian is right, you are not starving, so you should not want to absolutely murder him. But you have not tested your self control to this level before. Your tongue runs up his palm and you feel Brian shiver. Your eyes shut and your fangs scrape his skin, ever so gently.

You let out a muffled moan as you slowly suck on the wound. Brian’s knees buckle. His hand tenses and you freeze. You do not want to pull away, your instincts are telling you to continue to drain him. But who you used to be is telling you to let him go. Your grip on him tightens as you battle with yourself. Then you hear Brian stifle a groan.

Immediately, you release him. You pull back and look at him with wild, animalistic eyes. You cock your head at him and wipe your mouth. “Sorry, are you alright?”

Brian nods, “More than alright…” He pauses briefly, “That’s not going to turn me, is it?”

You shake your head. “No, it will not. Did that hurt?” You bite the inside of your lip. “Because I've only ever killed people when feeding… And those people are most definitely not enjoying it.” You laugh.

“It, uh,” Brian is thinking, searching for the right words, “it felt good. It stung at first, but when you started to… ‘feed’, it felt amazing.”

You nod at him. “That makes sense. The man that turned me into a vampire, um, he said that” you gather your thoughts, “when one feeds from a human, there is a sort of like… Chemical, maybe? That will react with the human's blood, making them feel good. So, they don’t fight back as much. But it doesn’t turn the person. That is the actual ‘vampire venom’ that does that, but that burns. I know that from experience. The one that makes you feel good though? That wears off, eventually. Especially before death.”

“That would have been good to know before we almost killed your victims for you.” Brian smiles at you. “Can we go back now?”

“Sure, I guess.” You look at the wound again. “Let me fix that first.” You tear the hem of your already ripped sweater, getting just enough of the fabric to bandage his hand. You quickly wrap it up and pat it. “The feeling of pain will come back soon; we need to get home.”

The both of you make it to the car. You sit in the passenger seat, watching the road ahead of you, even if you are not even moving yet. Brian sits down and shifts. You inhale; you smell it again. Arousal. You know it isn’t your own. You are aroused as well though. You lick your lips and Brian’s blood is still on them, you grumble. You need more of him. You refrain. You rub your hands down your thighs; you are becoming antsy. Your brain is having a hard time wrapping around everything that is happening.

A hand is placed on yours. You look over at Brian, he gives you a reassuring smile. You bite the inside of your lip and calm down. You smile back at Brian and relax in the seat. Brian starts the car and as soon as the key is turned over his hand is on your thigh. You look over at him and wish for him to move his hand up. Further up your leg. You briefly think about moving his hand up your thigh, but before you can, Brian speaks up.

“I know that look in your eyes.” His eyes are back on the road; he doesn’t even look back over at you as he squeezes your thigh. “You’re about to do something.” He laughs. “You’re all bloody right now though. How about, after you get home and shower, we can… fix your frustrations.”

“I would like that.” You nod slowly. Getting home cannot come fast enough.

The rest of the ride is pretty quiet. The radio is turned down, so there is no noise. Brian’s hand is stuck to your thigh, squeezing it every once in a while. You have to hold back a moan. You want to latch onto Brian for a much different reason now.

He pulls up to the house and you jump out of the car. You shut the door and rush inside, scurrying to grab your things and jump into the shower. As you turn on the water, you hear Brian come into the house, you hear Tim ask him what happened. You hear Toby’s door open. You hear everything over the rushing water.

You try to not eavesdrop, but it is truly so hard when you can hear them like they are next to you. You hum softly, hoping your noise cancels out their speaking. It does not.

“What happened to your hand?” Tim asks Brian, and then quickly asks where you are.

“They’re showering.” It is all he gives his friend.

“What happened t-to your h-hand?” Toby sounds irritated.

Brian knows must know you can hear them. He says to ask you when you get out. How polite. You wash yourself as quickly as possible, and step out of the shower. You hear them start talking again.

“How did you find them?”

“Bloody, on the side of the road.” Brian starts. “We had a nice talk, and they vented their frustrations to me.” Okay, he knows I can hear him, you think to yourself.

“Wh-what kind of frustrations?” Toby asks. “Sexual?”

How the fuck do they all know? You want to scream. There is no response. You are certain Brian nodded at Toby. You get dressed and walk from the bathroom, take your clothes to the laundry closet, you hear mumbling, low and quiet. You can barely make out what they are saying. They immediately shut up as you walk in. You cross your arms and look at the three all standing around each other. They all turn to you at the same time, eyes boring into you. You want to scream.

“What the fuck did you say?” You look at Brian with confusion. You roll your eyes when there is no answer. “Why are you all three standing there… Conspiring against me?”

“Oh!” Toby smiles at you. With his muzzle off, his grin is frightening, leaving your stomach flipping. “I-I would say it’s the opposite of con-conspiring against you, dear.”

You are stuck. Toby is the first to step towards you. He’s wearing a black tank top and gray sweatpants. His cut has been bandaged completely; you can tell because the scent of his blood is not as strong as it was before. He still smells so good though, you are sure you are going to lose your mind.

“What happened to Brian’s hand?” Tim asks, snapping you out of your trance.

You look at Brian for reassurance. He nods, giving you the okay to share what happened. You look back at Tim. “He was proving a point to me,” You start, “that I can control myself.” Toby loses it. He twitches and his jaw clenches, before relaxing and he finally speaks. “You-you drank fr-from, from him?” He narrows his eyes at you, pointing at Brian.

“Yes.”

“And it was fucking hot!” Brian boasts.

You groan, placing your face in your hands. “Today's been a lot,” You are suddenly rethinking the earlier proposal from Brian. “I'm sure you are all tired–”

“No.” They all speak at once. Then Brian takes over the conversation. “We don't have to do this. But, I want you to know, we are here for you. No matter what you need.”

No matter what you need. There are heavy implications behind that. You can feel them. How he holds himself says it all. Tim and Toby seemingly agree. Toby is biting at the fucking bit to get to you; you can feel it. He is holding himself back extremely well. He shifts and you inhale slowly. They are all so aroused. Your jaw clenches and your eyes shut tight. You need to think.

“I've never done this.” You open your eyes and stare at the three of them. Toby’s head tilts and you notice his hand twitch. He is excited. “Had a threesome. I mean, I haven't done anything since being turned. What if I hurt one of you?”

“You-You won't. If you d-do, we-well we ha-have a wooden ste-steak.”

“You'd put me down? Just like that!?” You almost scream at him. Toby finds it funny. You roll your eyes and cross your arms. “Really…” You stomp your foot a little bit. “I would not be able to live with myself if I accidently hurt one of you. And also, how are you going to decide who goes first?” You cock a brow at them.

“Me! M-Me! Brian got lu-lucky already, it's m-my turn!” Toby almost launches himself at you.

“Oh! So what am I? Chopped liver?” Tim grunts.

You have never had this much attention. It almost sends you into a spiral. “I promise, you'll all get a turn!” You put your hands up and speak without thinking. This ignites a fire in the men that is worse than whatever was going on before. They look like they are going to go absolutely mad to get to you. Toby immediately reaches for you. Without missing a beat, you are on the other side of the couch, staring at them.

“Ah,” You click your tongue. It clicks how much power you have at this moment. “I want to go over ground rules before we start this.” They all nod eagerly at you. “I need you all to tell me if it's too much. If I'm holding you too tightly or draining too much blood.”

“That it?” Tim crosses his arms at you.

You tap your chin. “I heal really quickly. Bite me, leave hickeys, do whatever. But–” You put a finger up, “Nothing too violent. I'm afraid if you happen to hit me I won't stop draining your blood. And then I'll have to face something I'd rather not even look at.”

“Sounds good enough.” Brian nods.

“Now,” You bite the inside of your lip, “I want to try something, if you're okay with it Toby?” He is the most excited. “I'll need my accountability partners here with me though.” You smile at Tim and Brian. They agree. “I want to taste you, if you're okay with that?” You know his answer. You need it verbalized.

“Y-yes! I tho-thought you wo-would never ask!”

“What am I supposed to do? If you start killing him?” Tim seems curious. More curious than concerned.

“I don't know!” You smile at them, shrugging. “Do you want to do this out here? Or on a bed?”

Toby sits on the couch and excitedly pats his lap. “H-Here. Th-the couch.” You nod. You stalk towards him, the thought of feeding from him is doing something for you. You stop in front of him.

“Toby?” Your eyes move from his eyes to his thigh, back to his eyes. Toby hums in response, slightly agitated you have not sat on his lap yet. “Um,” You purse your lips, “You don’t mind being, uh, naked in front of your friends do you?”

Toby laughs. “No.” His answer is short and sweet.

“Okay,” You nod, “take your pants off.”

Toby obliges. “Th-thought you w-would n-never ask.” He slides his sweats off, and he is not wearing any underwear. You bite your lip, seeing his cock is already hard. You drop to your knees immediately and scoot completely up to him. Toby’s hand instinctively rubs at his cock as you situate yourself, precum dripping from the head.

You grip the couch cushion and look at the bandage on Toby’s thigh. “Mind if I-”

“Please,” Toby whines. “Do so-something. I’m-I’m begg-ing.”

You rip the bandage away and stare at the wound momentarily. It definitely is not as bad as it seemed earlier. Your pupils are dilated, and you look up at Toby, wide eyes watching him, waiting for consent to go wild on his wound. You cannot even muster the will to ask if you can, you lick your lips and as soon as the brunette nods at you, your grip tightens on the couch cushions.

You know if you grab his legs you are going to bruise him. You do not take into consideration he would like that. Your eyes shut and you lick a stripe across the cut. You moan. Loudly, you moan into his thigh. One of the cushions pops under your white-knuckled grip. Foam comes out from between your fingers and Toby whimpers. This sends you into a fucking frenzy.

You let out a low, primal growl. Your eyes shoot open and meet Toby’s. His hand is working on his cock, stroking it. Tim and Brian are standing behind the couch, watching you become feral looking. They are turned on too. You can smell arousal all around the room.

“Bite- Bite me.”

You smile against his skin. You oblige. What sort of person could deny such an airy, whiny request? Not you, that is for sure.

Your eyes stay on Toby’s; you do not look away. Your fangs gently sink into his skin, and you let out a low groan. Fuck. You are not sure if you can let go now. You do not want to. Your tongue laps up the blood, and you begin to suck on the place you just bit. Your eyes shut, a shiver going down your spine, and your hand grabs Toby’s thigh.

Your nails dig into the skin. Toby shifts and you know he cannot feel the pain, but you do not want to cause any harm to him. But, at the same time, you want to drain him dry. He tastes divine.

“Do you feel it?” Brian asks, voice low. “The euphoria?” His hand is on the back of the couch; he is looking right at Toby.

Toby moans, and then softly whines. “Y-Yes.”

While Brian is asking Toby that question. Tim is focused on you. While it is completely sexy what you are doing, he does not want Toby dying. Tim says your name, trying to catch your attention, but you do not immediately pull away. Tim walks from around the couch and his hand hits your shoulder. A possessive growl escapes you. Tim does not falter. He snatches your shoulder back and you release Toby. Ready to latch onto whatever is stopping you. You do not register it as Tim at first. Just some threat stopping you from feeding.

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low and stern. “You drank enough.”

Red warmth covers your mouth, throat, and chest. Your fangs are bared at Tim and your grip is tight on Toby’s thigh. Tim grabs your face and lowers himself to your level. You are still on your knees.

“You know,” He starts, “I’d kiss you right now, if you weren’t covered in Toby’s blood…”

This snaps you out of it. You pause briefly. Your eyes are back to normal, pupils blown from ecstasy. “You would?” Your face softens.

“Come- Come on!” Toby groans. “Thi-This dick is-isn’t g-gonna suck itself.”

You look back at him and bite the inside of your lip. Tim releases your face and shoos you back to Toby. You crawl back to him, resuming your earlier position.

“I would like to note,” You start, “I have not sucked dick since getting fangs. I’m so sorry if-”

“Don’t be.” Toby swallows hard. “Pl-Please, just- just do s-something.”

You licked over the wound, hoping to stop the bleeding long enough to get Toby off. He can take care of it after you are done with him. You wipe your mouth with your hand, quickly wiping the blood away. One of your hands rests on Toby’s thigh and the other goes towards his cock. Toby twitches as you touch him. He whimpers again as you touch him. You gently pump up and down and place your mouth over the tip. You begin to take him into your mouth, and you quickly realize you do not have a gag reflex anymore.

Your eyes open and look up at Toby. He is watching you closely, not daring to look away. “Keep- Keep looking at m-me.”

His voice is whiny, but he sounds so demanding at the same time. You follow his instructions. You moan as you suck his dick, head bobbing up and down. Your eyes don’t break away from Toby’s. One of your hands goes towards the heat between your legs. You moan again as you touch yourself.

Toby is slowly coming undone. Your pace on Toby picks up as your thumb finds your clit. It is becoming difficult, keeping up with everything. Making sure you do not hurt Toby, bringing yourself pleasure, and making Toby feel good. It is all so much.

“I’m-” Toby’s voice is airy, “-close.”

Toby has been restrained, but as soon as your eyes shut, ecstasy close to washing over you, Toby seems to sense that. His hips begin to buck into you; your hand was not there to restrain that. You gasp, shocked at the sudden movement, and your eyes open back up, wide and full of surprise.

Toby releases into your mouth. You, without thinking, swallow. You pull back from Toby and let out a growl. “Toby! I was close too! Now I’m just aching-”

“That was hot.” Brian interrupts you.

You stand up from Toby and look at Brian. Your eyes narrow and you huff. “Oh it would have been so much hotter if I got to come too!”

“I can fix that,” Tim takes a step closer to you. “Plus, I’m the only one who you haven’t fed from. You aren’t full, are you?”

Your eyes darken and you smile at him, “Of course not, Tim.” You realize just how bloody you are from Toby and pause. “Let me at least clean this blood off.”

Tim nods. As you walk to the bathroom, Tim follows you. You grab a washcloth and wet it. You take your shirt off, and Tim’s eyes wander to your chest. You are wearing nothing under your shirt. Tim does not say a word as he watches you clean up. He only watches. You watch him from the mirror. As your hand rubs the cloth across your skin, his eyes follow. Your movements are slow and meticulous. You smile at him, while looking at the mirror, as his eyes come back up to yours.

As you put the washcloth in the dirty clothes, you look at Tim. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s go to my bedroom.” He looks ravenous. You feel the way he looks.

You grab his hand and follow behind him as he leads you to the bedroom. Brian and Toby seem to hear you and begin to make their way to the room as well. You look back and see Toby is wearing his pants again, his wound most likely bandaged… again. Tim does not give you time to think about Toby’s blood. You are pushed against the wall, opposite of the door, and you look at Tim with surprise.

“Can I drink from you?” You give him a soft smile.

“Please,” He groans. You nod, excitedly, and you grab Tim’s shoulders and pull him closer. You begin to kiss at his neck. You kiss down the spot you want to bite. The spot where you can feel his pulse racing. He is not nervous though. He does not feel nervous at all.

Before you bite him, Tim’s hands are wandering up and down your body. His hands tracing your cold skin, his fingers pinching at your nipples, before finally traveling to your waistband. As he pulls at the waistband of your pants, your teeth sink into his neck. He freezes up momentarily. You smirk against his skin. He feels it.

Tim grips your hip and his hand slides past the waistband, easily finding your pussy. He moans out as you slowly suck on his skin. He does not falter as you continue, his fingers pushing past your folds and into your entrance.

He begins to pump in and out, slowly at first. His thumb finds your clit and it is your turn to freeze up. Tim smiles and lets out a laugh. “How does it feel?” He coos at you. You lap at his neck and pull back. “How does it feel, them watching us?” Tim's head tilts. Your eyes move from Tim and towards Toby and Brian. You let out a whine, and Tim’s thumb grazes over your clit again.

“Feels good-” You look back at Tim. You clench around his fingers and Tim smiles.

“Want me to fuck you in front of them?”

You cannot answer. You only nod. Tim, noticing you are not as messy as you were with your earlier feeding, kisses you. His tongue slips into your mouth and his fingers work on you until you are coming undone. You clench around him again and moan into Tim’s mouth. Your hips buck into his hand and your legs are turning to jelly.

Tim pulls back and removes his hands from your pants. Your eyes open and you give him a confused look. He slides his belt off and you stand there, still slightly disoriented.

“Im going to fuck you, remember?” He says it so nonchalantly. Oh yeah. You nod but still just stand there. “Do you want me to do that with your pants on?” He questions you.

Oh… You are embarrassed now. If heat could rush to your cheeks, you would be on fire. You huff and slide your pants and underwear off. You stand uncomfortably for a moment. Your eyes look back at Toby and Brian. They are watching you, only you. You feel so small under their gaze. And for a moment, you forget how strong you are. You forget you could have the upper hand at any given moment.

“You still okay?” Tim asks.

You nod. “Just getting comfortable.”

“We have all night, sweetheart,” He is standing only in his underwear now.

“And all of tomorrow.” Brian smiles.

“Y-yeah.” Toby speaks up. “You-You can’t g-go out during th-the day.”

He has a point. “I think you three will not last all night and tomorrow with me.”

“That a challenge?” Tim asks, his brow cocking.

You shrug. “You three are humans, and I am not. I have pretty much endless stamina.”

“That’s a challenge.” Brian smirks.

You look at Tim, “Please, just fuck me.”

“Of course.” He smiles.

Tim is out of his underwear and on you in seconds. You are flush with the wall, and Tim is pressed against you. His hand grabs at your thigh, and you wrap it around his waist. Tim’s cock pushes into you and you groan. He lets out a low moan and you hear his heart rate pick up. Your hands are on his shoulders, and you press your forehead to his. Your arms wrap around his neck and refrain from scratching his back. You are still learning your own strength.

In no time, Tim is pumping in and out of you. Your hips are chasing his every time he pulls away and his hands are gripping you tightly. His bruising grip does not let up, it only becomes tighter as you moan and whine for him.

“Tim,” You cry out, “I’m-”

Tim’s pace quickens but is still not sloppy. His movements are thought out and nowhere near sloppy. The sound of him fucking you fills the room, and for you it is only amplified. You can feel, hear, and smell everything way better than when you were human. It is making you come quicker.

“Where can I-?”

Tim starts, and you do not let him finish. “Inside.” You huff out, “can’t get pregnant.”

That is all the reassurance he seems to need. Everything in you becomes tense. You are starting to see stars. As you come, so does Tim. He releases inside of you. You are nowhere near done though.

“Brian,” You lean your head back against the wall, Tim pulls away, his come is spilling out of you. Brian perks up. “Lay on the bed please. Preferably not clothed.” Brian is quick to undress and get on the bed. He is hard, seems to have been since you drank from him earlier. You bounce back fast and go towards the end of the bed. “Mind if I ride you?”

He shakes his head. “Do whatever you want to me.”

You nod. You get on the bed and crawl up towards Brian, straddling him. You hover above his cock and place one of your hands on his chest. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

“It won’t be.”

You nod. You place yourself on his cock and begin to move slowly. You begin to bounce, your pace becoming steady. You are slow at first. Brian grabs your hips with his hands. His grip is about as strong as Tim’s. It is fueling you. You lean forward slightly, one hand still on Brian’s chest, and the other grabbing the headboard.

It is becoming a lot for you. All the sensations are so much. The sound of your skin smacking against his, the feeling of Tim and Toby watching you, and the smell of blood and arousal in the room.

Brian’s hands guide you, almost forcing you to go faster. Figuring that must be what he wants, you pick up the speed. Your nails dig into the wood of the headboard, scratching the polished surface.

“Fuck!” Brian hisses out. “Just like that. You’re so good-” He reassures you.

You lean forward slightly, beginning to see stars again. “Shit!” You cry. “I can’t-” You make sure to not push down on his chest. Instead, you put all of your strength into the hand grabbing the headboard. You hear it snap as Brian comes inside of you. You do not immediately get off of him. Your fingers are digging into the splintered wood as your pace finally slows.

“Fuck,” You pull your hand from the headboard. “I’m so… Damn, I’m sorry.” You lean against Brian as you come back down from your high and you huff.

“You broke my headboard.” Tim sounds unamused.

“And- And the co-couch is fucked too.” Toby mentions, causing you to groan.

Brian’s arms wrap around you, and he laughs. “Come on guys, they’re still learning their own strength.”

“Yeah!” You snap back. “You’re all lucky I didn’t hurt any of you… More than I may have…” Brian’s hand rubs up and down your back. “As much as I would love to sit here, I need to clean up. And you three probably need to take some Motrin or something. Those bites will hurt soon.”

You push yourself up and begin to walk towards the bathroom. As you are leaving the room, Toby starts to speak to Brian and Tim. You ignore it, since he seems to be talking to them, and not you. You tune out what he is talking about and begin to clean yourself up. Again.

As you slide into the hot shower all you can think about is the new relationship forming between the four of you. You sigh and relax in the water. You do not have a care in the world, not even to Toby is talking about just outside in the room across the hall. All that matters is you have three people who seem to accept you. Even if you are some bloodlust ridden creature.

#creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #brian thomas #brian thomas x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby #ticci toby x you #toby rogers #toby rodgers x reader #x reader

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a-hazbin-reader · 1 year ago

Note

How do you think Alastor would react to being called cute, hot etc.along those lines

Like how would it make him feel? Pre-Wifey. Like it’s Wifey, but she ain’t wifey yet lol

Wifey rizzing up her man??? 👀

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being TORTURED, Reader has that WIFE energy, Alastor thinks about killing someone

Description: ☝️⬆️

Alastor was a confident man who prided himself on not being taken unawares by anything or anyone

The keyword is was

But meeting you and getting to know you has completely caught him off guard because he's FALLING for you

He knew you were a dangerous woman, but he didn't realize just what sort of danger he was in

In danger of losing his HEART~

He couldn't help it, you were beautiful and witty along with a number of other fantastic qualities/talents

And when you smiled at him it made him freeze in his tracks, even the simplest eye contact made him feel flushed

But then you opened your mouth and actually spoke to him which made things so much more difficult

"You look good today, Alastor~ Did you do something different? Very debonair~"

He wonders if you're torturing him like this on purpose, if you know how he feels about you

But he does his best to remain unfazed, or at least not let you see how your words affect him

"I can't say I've done anything new, but I appreciate that someone around here notices my good looks~"

Your soft laugh makes his heart skip a beat, and he almost blushes when your fingers play with the ends of his hair

"I always notice you, Alastor."

He's at least able to wait until you leave the room to suddenly collapse on a table, steam coming out of his ears as he clutches at his chest

He would be insanely jealous if you acted this way with anyone else but you seem to reserve it all for him, something he's secretly grateful for

Even when you're drunk, you always seem to find a way to make him fluster

Alastor finds you at the bar, cheeks pink from the alcohol in your system, talking to the bartender about something

Or someone

"-he's just so handsome..! I can't get over it-"

Alastor takes a seat next to you, cutting off some random guy from taking the seat in hopes of getting an easy mark out of you

"Who's handsome now?"

He's totally not asking because he's jealous, or trying to figure out who he's going to hunt down and ki-

You hiccup and give him a drunken smile, leaning in to get in his face, which immediately makes his heart race

"You are~ Hand...some~"

Alastor can feel the heat rushing up to his face as you poke his nose before clumsily leaning back to get your drink

Okay, you've definitely had enough to drink

"I think you've had enough for tonight, let's get you home, my dear."

You whine and pout as he drags you out of the bar, only complying when he wraps an arm around your waist to keep you steady

He hopes that you're too drunk to remember the way he blushes the entire way home with you, holding you tight

It doesn't help that you're so snuggly when you're drunk, nuzzling your head under his chin

He almost explodes when he manages to pry you off of him and lay you down on your bed only for you to stare at him with glassy eyes

"Mm...that's hot...you're so hot~"

He rubs his hand over his face in an effort to hide the embarrassing choked sound that escapes him

"Please... just go to sleep..."

He's less sure that you're messing with him when you say things like that while drunk out of your mind

Your worst attacks are the sneak attacks that come out of nowhere for him, making it painfully obvious how much he feels for you

He's eating when you suddenly come in, rolling your eyes as you sit next to him, listening to all the little noises he makes as he eats

He can't help it, the food is delicious~

You suddenly grab a napkin and dab the corner of his mouth, giving him a small smile

"You're cute, you know that?"

He almost chokes on his food, your words along with the physical touch making his mind go blank

"C-cute!?"

Fuck, his voice cracked, making him blush uncontrollably as you obviously try not to laugh at him

"Ahem! Cute is not a proper word to describe me, I am many things, but cute isn't one of them..!"

You take his plate away from him, helping yourself to his meal as he rants about how he's not cute

"Say what you will, but I think you're a very cute man~"

He just groans and lays his head on the table, openly blushing now as he watches you eat

"I'm not... cute..."

You just laugh at him and it makes his heart beat a little faster despite his visible pouting

You're an evil woman who's torturing him for falling for you, trying to make him confess so you can tease him about it

He's sure of it...but it doesn't diminish his growing feelings for you any less

This one was so fun 😭

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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bloodibambiidoll · 8 months ago

Text

⟡˖ ࣪ A Dripping Inconvenience ⟡˖

✬ Kinktober Day 3 ⟢ Eric Draven ⟢ Squirting/Overstim ✬

Warnings: Brother’s bestfriend troupe, size difference, fingering, pussy eating, pet names, choking, overstimulation, squirting, cock piercings, hickies, possessiveness, AU(no Shelly/crow), biting, a tiny bit of blood, reader has nipple piercings 18+MDNI

You spent most of the day cleaning your brother’s dirty ass apartment while he was out of town so you had absolutely no reservations about helping yourself to a fat plate of nachos from his kitchen and a blunt, or two, from his stash. You were one blunt, half a plate of nachos, and two episodes into your show when abrupt banging on the door ripped you from your chill evening. You practically jump out of your skin at the amount of force behind the knocks, the weed in your system making you slightly paranoid until you hear the voice behind the door.

“Chance, come on, man!! I really need your fucking help!” You’d recognize your brother’s best friend’s voice anywhere. Considering you were just a little bit obsessed with him. And he sounds extremely stressed. Another round of knocks pulls you from your thoughts and has you shooting to your feet so you can walk the short distance between the couch and the door. You hastily unlock and open it to reveal a disheveled looking Eric Draven. His black mullet is even messier than usual and dripping wet from the storm raging outside. Which makes the fact that all he’s wearing is a distressed black tee and even more distressed black jeans borderline insane as the cloth covering his body drips onto the carpet in the hallway. He’s panting heavily and the look in his eyes is the one of someone running from something. Fear and urgency. “Oh, fuck. What’re you doing here? Where’s your brother?”

You’re not taken back by his brash tone, Eric had always been short and avoidant with you. You’re his best friend’s annoying little, kid sister that used to beg to play with them and that’s all you’ll ever be to him. Fucking unfortunately. But the way he towers over you makes you suddenly acutely aware of the fact that all you’re wearing is a tiny, white, Hello Kitty tank top, even tinier pink panties that hardly cover your hips or ass, and your black platform Uggs with white ruffle socks. You took a shower after you finished cleaning and despite the amount of time you spent vacuuming, your brother's floors were perpetually disgusting so you refused to walk around in his house without some kind of shoes.

“He’s out of town, I’m house sitting and watching the dogs.” You scoff and roll your eyes before tipping your head over your shoulder to gesture inside toward your brother’s two dogs standing guard behind you. If they hadn’t known Eric their whole lives they’d probably be barking their heads off right now. “What are you doing here? Are you good?”

“Not fucking really, no.” Eric sighs and throws his head back while running his tattooed hands down his face. He drops them to his side before locking eyes with you and you have to physically stop yourself from clenching your thighs from the way he is glowering down at you. When you were kids he was shorter than most of the other boys and now his body fills the entire length of the doorway he’s standing in. He was just so big. “I just really needed to talk to your brother, alright? And it’s just really inconvenient that you’re here right now.”

“Seriously? What is your fucking problem with me, Eric? We aren’t little kids anymore. It’s just immature at this point.” You stomp your foot for emphasis and glare up at him with your lips set into an ironic pout considering you just called him immature.

“My problem?” Eric crowds your space even further and you can nearly feel the dampness of his clothes against your body from his proximity. He leans down until his face is mere inches from yours, his green eyes ablaze as he breathes out deep through his nostrils. “Is that I’m in some deep shit. I have some fucked people after me. You being here, near me, puts you in harm's way and that isn’t going to work for me.”

“That isn’t going to work for you? You’re joking, right? You don’t give a fuck about me.” You laugh dryly and shake your head at the irony of this entire situation.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” Eric closes the remaining distance between you, pressing his wet body against your barely covered skin. “I give too many fucks about you and now you’re here, looking up at me in that annoyed way you always do.” He chuckles and one of his large hands reaches up to cup the side of your face. “You think it hides how badly you want me, but it doesn’t.”

“W- What?” You gasp at the feeling of his skin on yours. He’s been close to you before, but never like this. “I don’t -“

“Shh. Let’s not waste time denying it. The fact that you want me is as clear as the sky being blue.” Eric’s thumb reaches out to trace along your bottom limp and you have to hold in a whimper. “It's only ever made it harder for me to be a good friend to your brother and stay away from you. I think my final restraint might be slipping. Fucking look at you.”

“You should… come in?” Your voice comes out a squeaky whisper and it makes you want to crawl in a hole and die. A slow smile spreads across Eric’s face, he places his hands on your hips and starts to back step you into the apartment before kicking the door shut behind him. The minute it’s shut his lips are on yours in a kiss that makes your entire body ignite with fire. His grip on your hips tightens as he pulls your much smaller frame taunt against his own. His tongue explores your mouth and you moan into him while you start to subconsciously grind down on his thigh. Eric kisses you for what feels like an eternity before grabbing onto your hair at the nape of your neck and using it to pull your head back.

“I won’t be gentle. I’m really stressed the fuck out right now and I don’t have it in me to take my time with you.” Eric’s free hand grips onto your ass so tight his finger nails dig into your flesh as he continues to yank your hair. The stinging pains make you moan and grind down on him harder. “Oh? Is that how you like it, brat?” The condescending nickname he called you growing up held an entirely different meaning as it fell from his lips now. It makes your pussy clench around nothing as the wetness in your underwear grows. “Answer me.”

“Yes, fuck. I like it rough.” At that Eric circles an arm around your waist and throws you over his shoulder. He carries you over to the couch and tosses you down on it onto your back. He stands over you with an almost carnivorous look in his eyes as he takes you in. You’re so fucking perfect that he can’t stand it. Your brother told him around the time you all hit puberty to stay the absolute fuck away from you but looking down at you in your tiny pink thong and tight little hello kitty tank top has him practically forgetting who your brother even is. Especially when you throw one of your legs over the back of the couch, revealing the large wet spot between them. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you know what you’re asking for princess, but your wish is my command.” Eric licks his lips before leaning down between your legs to kiss you like a man starved. His mouth tastes like cigarettes and rain and something almost sweet that must be naturally Eric. It’s everything you ever dreamed of as his big hands travel all over your body. He yanks your hair, grips onto your throat, runs his hands down your chest and grabs your tits and squeezes your nipples while he ruts his hard Jean covered cock against you. He bites down on your lip so hard you feel when the skin breaks and you can taste the crimson drip into both your mouths. Eric licks across your lips and down your chin to your pulse point where he sucks over and over again until your neck is covered in pretty purple and red bruises that will soon turn green and blue.

“You’re fucking, mine. Your blood is mine, your body is mine.” Eric kisses down your chest and pushes your shirt up to reveal your pretty pierced tits that make him groan at the sight. He tells you how pretty they are as he licks and sucks across them, marking them up just like your neck. He continues down your body until he gets to the band of your panties and he licks across it before kissing down your mound and running the flat of his tongue along your lace covered slit. “This pussy is fucking mine. Say it.”

“Fuck, my pussy is yours, Eric. I’ve always been yours.” He practically growls at that before pushing your panties to the side and smacking his hand down on your sopping cunt. “Shit!”

“Your pussy is so fucking pretty.” He lands a second smack on your clit before pressing the heel of his palm down on it and toying at your entrance with two of his thick fingers. “You look so tight though, we’re going to have to stretch you out, if you’re going to be able to take me.”

“I think I can take it - oh fuck!” Eric plunges his fingers knuckle deep inside you and your wet walls suck him in. Your back arches off the couch but his knee comes up to pin your thigh so you can’t move. His free hand reaches for his belt and undoes his pants enough to pull his cock free, the sight of it makes your jaw drop. It’s fucking huge. Thick, long and slightly curved, the head is perfect and dripping with precum, and best of all? The entire fucking length of his shaft is pierced. Maybe you do need him to stretch you out after all.

“Yeah, not so cocky now, huh?” Eric chuckles as he curls his fingers inside you and continues to grind his palm against your aching clit. He caresses your g-spot and rubs the tips of fingers along your walls before thrusting them in and out of you brutally quick. Your pussy is so wet it squelches and your juices start to drip down your thighs. Eric leans down and takes your clit in his mouth and it has your eyes rolling back. Your entire body stiffens as pleasure overtakes you. He keeps sucking your clit hard until your orgasm finally wavers but he doesn’t stop. The flat of his tongue licks your bud firmly as he twists his wrist and scissors his fingers inside you causing you to come again immediately.

He finally pulls his mouth off of you and you feel like you can breathe for a moment. That is until you look down at him. His hair is a disaster from you yanking on it and the entire bottom half of his face is covered in your creamy juices. Eric leans in to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself. “You’re such a good girl for me. Give me another one.” He doesn’t pull his fingers from you and fuck you like you’d hoped he would but he resumes thrusting them in and out of you at a brutal pace and your pussy juices drip down his wrist and onto the couch.

“Oh my fucking god! I don’t think I can - fuck I just - I need a minute-“ Your sentence is cut short when Eric’s hand flies out to grip onto your throat.

“Oh, baby, no. You’re going to come for me as many times as I say and then I’ll finally give you my cock and you’ll come on that too.” Eric chuckles as squeezes your throat as he fucks you with his long fingers. His thumb reaches out to caress your clit and euphoria washes over you again. “Yeah, that’s it, you’re so good for me, Angel.”

“I - it’s so good, too good, I don’t think I can come again - oh fuck!” Eric’s grip leaves your throat and grips under your ass to tilt your hips up off the couch making his fingers hit deeper inside you.

“Shhh, just come for me.” He spreads them and twists his wrist before going back to the quick drive of his digits inside you. He spits on your clit before pressing hard on it with his thumb and your walls pulse around him as cum floods from your pussy. You squirt around his fingers and he doesn’t stop his assault on your pussy until you squirt two more times for him. Your chest is heaving and your entire body is shaking by the time he finally pulls his fingers from inside you and uses your juices to lube up his fat cock. “You were such a good girl for me, now lay back and take my cock like the good little fuck doll I always wanted.”

Tagging some fellow Eric lovers: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @myherometalhead @that-sarcastic-writer @ghoul-friendz @taintandviolent 🖤

#Dolly writes #Dolly’s kinktober #kinktober #Eric Draven #eric draven 2024 #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #eric draven smut #eric draven fanfiction #eric draven x reader #eric draven x you #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgard x reader

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txttletale · 3 months ago

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hello...what is this "eidolon playtest". i thought it was perhaps some kind of MTG since you like that and "playtest" but then i keep seeing like.....random character art. is this a tabletop thing. is it mtg and i just dont understand mtg. i know i can probably google this but jt seems like something you wnjoy and id like to hear you talk about it :^)

eidolon playtest is an actual play series in which the creators of the ttrpg 'eidolon: become your best self' and their friends -- as the name implies -- playtest aforementioned TTRPG. it has a pretty interesting format in which the same GM runs two separate campaigns for two different parties which slowly become more and more intertwined until they start crossing over directly. so far they have two pairs of campaigns finished, eidolon POP and ROCK (seasons 1 & 2) and eidolon SKA and DISCO (seasons 3 & 4), and season 5 (eidolon VGM and EDM) currently ongoing. they also have a couple of short mini-campaigns of 3-4 sessions each, which i'm not going to list all of because there's a lot.

eidolon playtest is really good for so many reasons i can't possibly provide a comprehensive account but here's some:

the tables are really, really good at taking something and running with it. the number of goofy, seemingly one-off jokes that get called back to and built up and end up becoming extremely serious and plot-critical has to be in the double digits by now

there is very much a lack of... for want of a better word 'preciousness' to the play -- like, one of the things i really don't like about dimension 20 is that because there is an entire production staff making all these little minis and sets, right, there is an investment and a need to put the money in front of the camera, it's basically impossible for e.g. combat encounters to be skipped or for anything to go too 'off the rails'. meanwhile in eidolon everyone will get excited when someone pulls a fucking insane plan out of nowhere that radically reshapes an encoutner, or when someone rolls/draws badly and something awful happens -- i fucking love that kind of play, where everyone is excited to see cool shit happen whether it's bad or good, and the eidolon playtest team do it really well

the characters are really good and bounce off each other really well. something i commented recently is that i love diska for the fact thaqt nonoe of the players are afraid to have their character just be a huge cunt sometimes. every campaign has some amount of interpersonal drama and it always seems like the players are really excited to have it, too. there are conflicts, some get resolved, some don't, some spiral into irreconcilable differences, some pave the way for extremely close bonds.

eidolon, the system (especially the 2e version that's used for diska onwards) is a great system which encourages fun and cool things to happen. every character has a jojo-style extremely specific power, which means that fights aren't boring slogs of people rolling dice (i hate combat in actual plays that use wargames, lol, even games with well-balanced combat systems that are fun to play often make horrible audio) but instead wacky and consistently dramatic encounters where the players make clever and creative use of their powers to take on a freak-of-the-week

the cast is just really damn good! i mentioned how the characters on all the shows have ineresting and complex dynamics, but even apart from that there's just so many characters on this show that i'm genuinely attached too, so many memorable and interesting pcs and npcs.

the show is funny as fuck!! constant laugh out loud bits throughout every campaign, often alongside the extremely heartfelt or dramatic ones. i've been refernecing a bit from eidolon disco so much recently it's been driving oen of my gfs crazy (you can buy rat poison for free at the store)

i, yknow, go back and forth on whether to mention this when recommending it bc i'm sure that the eidolon playtest folks don't, like, want to be pigeonholed as A Trans Podcast or whatever, but, like, when it feels like every AP podcast that advertises itself or is advertised as 'super queer' is like, two cis gay people and maybe one transmasc if you're lucky at an otherwise super cishet table -- it is such a breath of fresh air to listen to an actual play with a legit preponderance of transfem and nonbinary players playing all kinds of trans and queer characters.

tldr: its like homestuck but good

#ask #eidolon playtest

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mahowaga · 2 months ago

Text

THE (NOT SO) SUBTLE ART OF BEING A NUISANCE | K.C. — PART TWO

SUMMARY: you're a sound tech. he's a dj. you hate him. he hates you. (allegedly.) but that's okay, because who needs love when you can be a complete and utter nuisance and make his life hell?

PAIRING: dj!choso x sound engineer!fem!reader CONTAINS: rivals (mild annoyances) to lovers, romance, fluff, crack, profanity TEASER: here NOW PLAYING: casablanca by fly by midnight WC: 7.0k WARNINGS: they swear a lot, choso is still insufferable, but it's endearing, mc is still the personification of a troublemaker

setlist | part one

— Tongue-tied? Here’s a USB and a dream. Sprinkle some charm in there, too

Choso has been unbearable ever since that night.

Ever since he’s played that godforsaken track. Ever since you’d stood there like a complete idiot, too flustered to do anything except pretend you weren’t as affected as you actually were.

Ever since you’d lost, and he’d won, and he knew it.

And now?

He is smug. So insufferably smug.

The worst part of it all? He isn’t even saying anything. He doesn’t need to.

He’ll just show up to the club, shoot you a lazy glance from across the room, and you already know.

You can feel it.

Like an unspoken victory speech, his eyes linger on you for just a second too long, before he goes back to pretending you don’t exist.

It’s driving you insane.

And tonight? Tonight is no different. In fact, it’s probably even worse than usual.

You arrive to your shift and find another sticky note (purple with black ink) slapped onto your soundboard.

It’s mocking you, you just know it.

Try not to fall in love with my set tonight, yeah? I know it’ll be hard. –Your one and only DJ Dumbass

Ugh. You roll your eyes so hard you swear you see your past lives all lined up in the afterlife, judging you.

You crumple the note in your fist, seriously contemplating arson.

Then, as if summoned by the sheer force of your hatred, Choso appears, walking into the club like he owns it, like he knows (he does) that everyone loves him (except for you) and that he’s the people’s favorite DJ.

His hood is up, headphones slung around his neck, hair pulled up into a half-up, half-down situation (that looks hotter than you would ever admit).

Instead of looking at you, like he always does, he simply goes to the CDJ and starts prepping for his set, adjusting knobs and flicking through the tracklist.

He’s ignoring you. (Why? You have no idea. You also have no idea why it bothers you.)

You have two choices:

Let him win.

Be as insufferable as humanly possible.

Guess which one is the right choice?

Yeah. The latter.

“So,” you drawl, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. “Should I start writing my Yelp review now, or after you completely ruin the club’s reputation?”

Choso doesn’t even look up. (His focus is made of steel. Nothing shakes this man.) “Bold of you to assume they care about your opinion.”

You narrow your eyes and scoff. “Bold of you to assume I won’t sabotage the entire sound system out of spite.”

Ah, that gets his attention. He looks up.

And smirks.

Shit.

“Go ahead.” He shrugs, too relaxed, too confident. It pisses you off more than you can describe. You literally threatened to carry out a sonic hate crime and this is his response? “I can work with static.”

You make a mental note to replace all of his tracks with the sound of dial-up internet loading.

“You’re annoying,” you mutter, watching him set up.

“Mm. You like me that way.”

You nearly trip over thin air. (Embarrassing. All this for some idiot man.)

He says it so casually, like it’s a fact, like it’s the weather, like it’s just something everyone already knows. Everyone, except, of course, you.

Your face feels hot. Or is that just the temperature in the club right now?

“I-” you sputter, grasping for literally any words that aren’t oh my god oh my god OH MY GOD. But Choso isn’t listening, because when has he ever listened?

No. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a USB drive.

He hands it to you.

(You have to give it to him. He’s the embodiment of ‘never let ‘em know your next move’.)

You stare at it like he’s just handed you a grenade. Shit, it might as well be one.

“What is this?” you ask, suspicious.

Choso raises an unimpressed brow. “A USB. Are you okay?”

You resist the urge to throw it at his forehead. “I mean what’s on it, you fucking idiot.”

He exhales, like he’s already exhausted by you and your million questions. “Just listen to it.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“Oh, wow, so convincing.”

Choso clicks his tongue, irritated, turning back towards the CDJ. “Or don’t. Whatever.”

(Any normal person would see that he’s annoyed and back off. But you? You aren’t normal. Far from it, in fact.)

You squint at him.

Something’s off.

Not in an obvious way. Not in a hey, I secretly committed a felony way (which you hope he hasn’t, for the record).

But in a he is being too nonchalant way.

Like he’s trying too hard to seem like he doesn’t care.

Which means that whatever’s on this USB here in the palm of your hands definitely matters.

…Which means, and get this, you have more leverage than you initially thought.

You perk up instantly. (You love how your brain works sometimes.)

“Ohh,” you grin. “Ohh, this is important, isn’t it?”

Choso’s jaw clenches. Got him.

Victory.

He ignores you and grabs his headphones from around his neck.

So, naturally, you make it worse. It’s your time to shine.

“Oh, I see,” you say dramatically, holding the USB up to the LED light. “It’s some tragic sadboi lo-fi mix, isn’t it? You’re about to pour your deepest, darkest feelings into my ears. Probably some emotional slow beats - ooh, maybe even a voice memo of you journaling your thoughts-”

Choso turns to you sharply with a flat, unimpressed stare.

“Do you ever shut up?”

“Not when I know something’s embarrassing for you, no.”

He exhales through his nose. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” you smirk, spreading your arms, “here you are. Giving little old me a gift. Careful now, people might think you like me or something.”

He holds your gaze like a balloon he’s not ready to let go of.

For a second too long. A second that tells you something you’re not ready to fully accept.

Then he says, “I have a set to start. Go back to the booth, pretty girl.”

He turns back to the CDJ, putting the headphones over his ears.

You feel like you just got shot. He didn’t answer your question and he called you pretty girl.

Your stomach does a somersault. (You hate to admit it, but that nickname of his really has a terrible effect on you.)

Oh.

Oh no.

You realize something.

If he didn’t deny what you just said…

That means…

Ah, shit. You’re so screwed.

Kamo Choso never follows the setlist. Not once. Not ever.

It’s like a fundamental, unspoken law of the universe - death, taxes, and Choso ignoring the lineup he made like the absolute pain in the ass he is.

(Seriously, you don’t know why you still bother practicing through his lineup when you know he’s going to switch it up.)

And so because of this unequivocal truth, you sit back in the sound booth, your gear all plugged in and running, glancing at the track progression for the night, bracing for impact.

But-

Wait a second.

You lean forward in your chair, pressing your headset harder against your ears as if it’ll help you hear what he’s playing in even better resolution (not possible), and you realize with a feeling that resembles being dragged down into the ocean with weights tied to your feet that he’s actually following the setlist.

For the first time in his entire miserable career (lie), he’s playing everything in order.

You barely have to adjust anything, having practiced earlier. No surprises. No remixes pulled from the void. No sudden jumps in tempo that make you want to hurl yourself into a speaker and disintegrate into sound waves. No smug little glances shot in your direction, daring you to keep up.

It’s not one of his signature rogue, self-indulgent remixing disasters that force you to scramble mid-set.

You should be relieved. That’s a normal thing to feel.

Instead, you are suspicious as hell.

Why, you ask? Because this now means two things:

He is up to something.

You are now basically free of distractions - there’s nothing gatekeeping your attention from the USB sitting in your palm.

You twirl it between your fingers, tapping it against your knee, hesitating.

It shouldn’t, but it feels oddly heavy. Like there’s something life-changing stored inside of it.

Just listen to it, he said.

His voice echoes in your head, lazy and casual, but there’d been something else beneath it. Something uncertain. Something almost, dare you say, nervous.

Choso. Kamo Choso. Nervous.

It doesn’t make sense. Sure, the guy is cocky, full of himself, thinks he is some kind of Messiah of groove, and occasionally gets tired of your antics, but he doesn’t get nervous.

But you think about the way he’d looked at you before you walked away.

You exhale sharply, tapping it against your palm.

Fine. Whatever. It’s just some insipid beats in this USB, anyway. He probably mixed another one of your laughs into it and is afraid you’ll actually kill him this time. That’s all. (Or this could be some kind of elaborate joke, seeing how he’s actually such a master of acting anxious and secretive before pulling a complete 180 on you.)

At the very least, you’re hoping Choso is smart enough to know not waste your time.

With a click, you plug the USB into your laptop.

A folder appears instantly, neat and simple.

[CH MIX – FOR YOU.]

Your stomach does something weird (huh, it’s almost like your stomach flips).

You blame it on the club lighting. You’re reading too much into this. You need to relax.

This is, after all, probably just another one of his dumb power moves, just a new way to mess with you.

That’s all.

Still.

Your fingers hover over the touchpad for a moment too long before you finally click.

Inside, a playlist.

You swallow hard, schooling your emotions, a whirlwind wreaking havoc inside of you, scrolling through the tracklist.

They’re all original mixes.

Okay. Not unusual. Choso makes new sets and mixes and tracks all the time.

But your breath hitches when you see the titles.

All of them.

And your brain short-circuits (you know, the way it does when you think about him).

These aren’t normal track names. They’re inside jokes. Petty arguments. Moments. The kind only the two of you would get.

Stop Making the Speakers Weep

EQ Crimes & Misdemeanors

This One’s for My Favorite Pain in the Ass

DJ Dumbass

Turn the Bass Down

My Pretty Girl

Your heart is pounding in your chest. This can’t be happening. This cannot be happening to you right now. This has to be a joke.

You click play before you can psych yourself out and have a mental breakdown.

The music pours into your headset, and immediately, you recognize it. His style.

He made these. These aren’t just remixes he was playing around with. He made these from scratch, just like the track from the other night - the one with your laugh.

Heavy bass (without a doubt). Deep, rich synths. A smooth, low hum that wraps around you like velvet. But layered into it-

Your voice.

Not just your laugh this time. Not the one he’d sampled before (how? You’re still unsure).

More.

Clips of you talking. Snippets from actual conversations. Your grumbles when fixing the soundboard to patch his messes. Your complaints about his terrible timing. A breath. A muttered curse. A quiet hum you hadn’t even realized you’d made when adjusting the settings one night. The flat, deadpan oh my god from the time he’d looped an airhorn over a bass drop just to piss you off (an act of love, he’d teased).

“That’s too heavy on the bass, dumbass.” “You’re impossible.” “Oh my god, did you actually follow instructions? Mark the calendar.”

All of it, woven seamlessly into the music.

Your stomach drops out from under you. You cover your mouth with your hand.

Because this isn’t just some mix. Some playlist. Some random tracks.

This is a timeline. A story - it’s you and him. The fights, the pranks, the slow, stupid build-up of whatever the hell has been happening between the two of you for months.

You don’t know what to do. The playlist keeps going, unaware of your jumbled feelings, a seamless progression from one track into the next, each carrying little pieces of you buried inside it. A song built from the background noise of you. As if he’s been collecting your existence this whole time. As if you’ve already been a part of his music before either of you had noticed.

Your face is burning. Oh, Choso, you big, dumb idiot of a disc jockey.

And then it transitions into the last track: My Pretty Girl.

The beat dies out. No layering. No filters.

There’s a little static. A pause.

Then, Choso’s voice, snaking its way through your headset and into your ears.

“...Okay, so, this is stupid. I am aware.”

Your lips press into a thin line. You can’t tell what sort of direction this is going to go in. You’re hoping it’s not veering towards the He’s going to say some really romantic shit to mess with me and then hit me with a ‘Just kidding!’ at the end type of finale. Then you’d really have to pull your slacks up and hit him with a roundhouse kick. Preferably until he can no longer qualify to be a DJ.

“...You’re probably making some obnoxious face right now, huh?”

He sounds exasperated. (And you absolutely are making an obnoxious face right now. He’s right on the money.)

“God. I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

There’s a deep breath, like he’s already regretting even doing this. You’re not sure if you should feel good about that or not.

“You’re annoying. So damn annoying. You get on my nerves all the time. Did you know that? Oh, wait, it’s you. For all I know, you fucking do it on purpose.”

Your breath catches. Not because of what he said, well, yeah, that, but also the tone - his voice is soft, resigned, but there’s not a single trace of anger laced in his words. It’s almost… affectionate.

“You make my job hell. You never shut up. And you’re-”

A pause. A sharp inhale. Like he’s fighting himself.

“And you’re- shit, you’re my favorite part of every night.”

Your brain goes blank. You cover your face with your hands, mortified on his behalf. (That’s what you tell yourself, anyway.)

“You drive me insane. Like. Actually insane.”

His voice is slightly muffled, like he’s dragging a hand down his face.

“Look, I don’t know when it happened, okay? Probably when you decided to be a chaos gremlin on night one. But suddenly, it was just… you. Every Friday night. Every set. Every stupid note you left on the console. Every time I looked up and saw you there, working your magic.”

A pause.

“I started, I don’t know, looking forward to it all. To seeing you.”

You bite your lip, because now you’re really afraid he’s going to say it’s all a joke.

“And I really, really hate that.”

Shit, shit, shit-

“Listen, I like you, okay? So much that it’s been eating at me from the inside, consuming my every thought. I can’t think when it’s you.”

You forget how to breathe.

His voice is quieter now.

“I don’t expect you to say anything. You don’t have to. Just- fuck. Throw something at me if you don’t feel the same way. Just… not my equipment. Please.”

You yank the headset off and toss it onto your laptop. Your hands are shaking. Your heart is slamming against your ribs. Your brain is completely empty. Your face is burning.

You risk a glance up through the glass and see Choso, engulfed by the music, bouncing along as he mixes through the tracks. You’re lucky he doesn’t look up and see you, because then he’d see that you’re currently malfunctioning beyond repair.

You stare at the laptop screen, at the track still playing, almost done now, at the waveform of his voice still moving.

This is insane. This is not happening. You’re waiting for the punchline, but you don’t get one.

He’s serious. (You’re royally screwed.)

Choso - Kamo Choso - had just-

He’d just-

You’re going to pass out.

— Confronting your demons–oh wait, that’s just Choso

His set ends.

You know it ends because the music cuts and the crowd erupts into cheers, a sweaty, adrenaline-fueled mass hyped off the last bass drop Choso had thrown their way. The club is buzzing, neon lights flickering as people push toward the bar or the dance floor, unwilling to let the energy fade so soon.

But you’re not paying attention to any of that.

You’re still sitting there, in your chair, in your booth, reeling.

Because Choso - that absolute menace of a DJ, your mortal enemy, your favorite person to argue with (what?) - just confessed to you over a mix.

And you?

You have no idea what to do with yourself. The confession is still rattling around in your brain, ricocheting off every corner like a pinball on steroids.

Your fingers drum erratically on the edge of the console as you overthink yourself into oblivion.

Okay. You could pretend you didn’t hear it.

But that would be a dense move.

You could throw something at him like he told you to.

Tempting, but that would imply acknowledging the confession in the first place. Plus, that would mean you didn’t-

“You listened to it, huh?”

You jump, whipping around so fast that you nearly knock your laptop off the booth.

There he is. Choso. The bane of your existence.

He’s standing there, sweaty from the set, hair still half-tied, hoodie missing, probably draped over a chair somewhere. He doesn’t seem to care about it too much. He’s got a towel slung over his shoulder, fingers idly fidgeting with it - his usual post-set routine.

Except he’s looking at you instead of drying himself off.

Waiting.

And you? You’re still in malfunction mode.

Abort mission.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you blurt out, like the liar you are.

He exhales a short laugh, tipping his head to the side. His dark eyes flick to the abandoned headset on your laptop, the USB still plugged in - like he knows.

Like he can see right through you.

“Oh yeah?” he muses, arms crossing over his chest. “Then why do you look like your brain just blue-screened?”

“I do not look like-”

“You absolutely do.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

Shit. You hate how he can read you like an open book. You also hate how smug he’s being right now.

Choso watches you for a second longer, his usual smirk threatening to creep onto his pretty face, but his gaze alters.

It’s subtle, but you catch it.

A flicker of hesitation. The faintest twitch of his fingers against the towel. The way his weight shifts, like he’s bracing himself.

It hits you then: he’s nervous.

Choso.

Nervous.

You try not to read into it. The last time he looked nervous was when he’d played his track for you, the one with your laugh woven into it, and then he’d switched up into his usual cocky demeanor. An actor great enough to rival you.

But this is somehow different from the other night, too. This is uncertainty.

Damn. This is him waiting to be rejected.

Something in your chest does a weird, complicated flip that would earn you a gold medal at the Olympics. And you don’t like that.

You don’t like any of this.

He beats you to the punch before you self-destruct. “Did you listen to it?”

You tense. His voice is softer now, like he’s testing the waters. Like he isn’t sure if you’re about to throw him into the sun or do something even worse (you would).

You swallow. “...Maybe.”

The corner of his lip ticks up.

“Maybe?”

You scowl. “Yes, maybe. What do you want from me?”

His grin widens, and damn does he look good. “An actual answer?”

No. Not happening. You grab a nearby clipboard, the one with the setlist of his set tonight, and slam it over your face, hiding from him.

Choso laughs. Laughs. Like this is the funniest shit in the world to him.

You want to throw something at him. Preferably a speaker, and you start looking around for one-

He does the worst thing imaginable. He reaches out and tugs the clipboard down.

You resist.

He wins. (Fuck.)

The clipboard is pried away, and now it’s just you and him, standing in the dimly lit sound booth, the glow of the screens casting weird shadows across his face.

His stupid, warm, beautiful face that you suddenly want to punch for making you feel like this.

He studies you, eyes flicking over your expression. It’s like he’s wrestling between being amused and anxious.

You know he sees the way your ears are burning.

“Alright,” he says, slow and deliberate. “You listened to it.”

You clench your jaw. There’s no way out of this now. He’s already seen the proof of your listening session anyways. Still, you double down. “Maybe.”

“Stop saying maybe.”

“Maybe.”

He lets out a deep sigh, dragging a hand down his face. You smirk, triumphant-

Until his hand shoots out again, grabbing your wrist.

You freeze. Completely. Your body locks up.

His fingers curl loosely around it, warm and solid and firm. Not rough, not tight - just there.

“Then tell me,” he says, voice lower now. “What did you think?”

You can’t answer. Because your pulse is too busy freaking out and screaming at your brain, causing a panic all over your body. It’s thumping wildly against his fingers, giving away everything.

Choso feels it. You know he does, because his grip tightens slightly, just like last time. (You hate it when history repeats itself.)

You try to yank your hand back, but his hold is unyielding. You’re trapped, so to speak.

“C’mon,” he murmurs. “If you hated it, just say so.”

You need to regain control, because this right here? This is going to make you lose your marbles.

He’s so close.

Close enough that you can smell the faintest trace of cologne, mixed with sweat, with him.

Close enough that you can see the way his pupils are slightly blown out, like he’s daring you to run.

And suddenly, you’re very, very aware of how much space is between you. (Or rather, how little.)

This is not normal. This is dangerous territory.

You straighten your shoulders, trying to steady yourself. (The last thing you want him to think is that you’re down bad for him or something.) “So, let me get this straight,” you say, keeping your voice even, desperately trying not to look down at where he’s still holding your wrist. “You’re telling me that you - Kamo Choso, pain in my ass, professional menace, guy who deliberately messes with my sound levels every chance he gets - actually have feelings for me?”

He blinks at you, amused. “Still processing, huh?”

“I’m asking an honest question.”

Choso breathes out, rubbing the back of his neck as he lets go of you and takes a step back.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I do.”

At this point you really shouldn’t be surprised when you feel your heart flutter or your stomach flip, and yet, somehow it still catches you off guard every single time.

“But, like,” you start, because apparently you don’t know when to stop talking, “are you sure? Like, have you considered that maybe you actually just enjoy bullying me?”

That earns you a flat look.

“Did you just try to talk me out of liking you?”

“I’m just making sure you’ve really thought this through.”

“Oh my God.”

He places his hands on his hips and exhales while looking at the ceiling. “You’re making this worse than I thought.”

You scoff. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was the problem here.”

“You absolutely are.”

“That sounds like a you problem, actually.”

“You know what?” He points at you, leveling you with the flattest, driest look imaginable. “Forget it. I take it back. This never happened.”

Your heart lurches so hard it nearly falls out of your chest to create the bloodiest crime scene imaginable.

“You can’t take it back!” you blurt out, offended.

Choso raises a brow. “Why not?”

“Because that’s not how confessions work!”

“Oh-ho, so now you’re an expert?”

“I- that’s not the point!”

Choso just smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Oh, that absolute bastard.

You glare at him, refusing to let him see how off-balance he’s thrown you. Refusing to acknowledge how warm your face is, how fast your heart is racing, how much, despite everything, you don’t actually hate this. Or, for that matter, hate him.

Because that would mean admitting something to yourself that you’re not ready to deal with.

So you do what you always do.

You push. (Anything to drag out the inevitable. God, you need some serious help.)

“Anyway,” you say, clearing your throat and waving a dismissive hand, “if you like me so much, why haven’t you done anything about it before now?”

Choso snorts, taking a half-step closer to you. “Because you’re impossible.”

“I happen to be a delight.”

“You are a gremlin who thrives in chaos.”

“I think you’re projecting.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He looks to the ceiling like he’s pleading for divine intervention - maybe to help him with his clearly thinning patience or to simply strike him down and vaporize him. “This is exactly why I was suffering in silence.”

“Suffering in silence?” You grin, because now you have the upper hand. All the cards are back in your favor. “Oh, that’s rich. What part of you sampling my laugh into a mix was ‘suffering in silence’?”

Choso very visibly flinches.

“Oh,” you gasp, dramatic as ever. “Oh my God, you did not just cringe.”

“Shut up.”

“You totally did.”

“I will throw you out of this booth.”

“You’re so embarrassed right now. This is incredible. Ground-breaking.”

Choso groans and looks away, pinching the bridge of his nose. And that’s when you make the devastating mistake of looking at him properly.

Because the thing is, and you’ve known this from the first time you ever laid eyes on him, Choso is attractive.

Like, objectively.

But that’s never been the problem. Not really. You’ve always been able to ignore it. To shove it into a box labeled ‘Irrelevant Information’ and go about your day.

Right now - standing there, arms crossed, sleeves shoved up his forearms, hair half-tied and messy, jaw sharp under the neon glow of the club lights-

It’s very, very hard to ignore.

Panic. Immediate, uncontrollable panic. (All you’ve been doing tonight is panicking, at this point.)

You tear your eyes away before you start thinking things you absolutely should not be thinking.

Choso notices, because when does he ever not notice your microexpressions, and the smirk that creeps across his face tells you you’re doomed.

“...Huh.”

Your stomach plummets. It might as well be bungee jumping. “Don’t.”

“Wait a minute.”

“Choso.”

He leans forward slightly, and your pulse skyrockets.

“Are you-” His grin widens. “Are you flustered?”

“No.” (Your cheeks are red.)

“You totally are.”

“Absolutely not.”

He tilts his head. “...You like me, don’t you?”

“I will end you.”

“Oh my God.” His eyes gleam with triumph. “You like me.”

You don’t dignify that with a response (a page out of his book). No, you do the only thing you can think of doing - you grab the nearest object (a sound level meter) and chuck it at his head.

Choso dodges effortlessly, laughing as it clatters to the floor. “Okay, yeah, that reaction is definitely not normal and not defensive at all.”

“You are so lucky I have not committed a crime against you.”

“You wanna kill me so bad.”

“I do, actually.”

“Then do it.”

Choso is having the time of his life. You, on the other hand, are having a breakdown.

Not externally, of course. Externally, you are composed. (Mostly.) Externally, you are fine. (Debatable.) Externally, you are most definitely not about to make a life-altering decision that will change everything forever. (Complete and utter lie.)

But internally? Internally, your brain is on fire. Your thoughts are running in circles, screaming at each other. Every single alarm bell in your body is going off at full volume - bass at its max, too.

All because Choso is looking at you like that. Like he already knows the answer to the question he asked before. Like he knows you won’t actually kill him. Like he’s already won.

And that? That cannot stand. Absolutely not.

“Wait,” he says, cocking his head like he’s studying you. Like he’s enjoying this way too much. “Was that a no, then?”

“Huh?” You blink up at him, trying to figure out what his latest bullshit is. (You’re also in some type of haze that consists of him and only him, so you really can’t be blamed for any of this.)

Choso gestures vaguely to the sound level meter currently lying on the floor, the one you just hurled at his face in an act of complete emotional instability.

“You threw something at me,” he explains, as if that clarifies anything. “You know - like I said. If you didn’t feel the same way.”

Your entire body glitches.

That- oh, oh my God.

Your stupid, ridiculous, emotionally constipated ass-

You threw something at him.

You threw something at him right after listening to his confession and him asking you if you liked him back.

Ah, shit.

You’ve accidentally rejected him. (Yes, you’re hearing this right.)

Choso stares at you, expectantly. Amused, but expectant. Definitely not like a guy who just got rejected by a girl he just made a whole playlist for. Smug. So fucking smug. (He already knows the answer, that son of a bitch. He’s just making you suffer.)

Meanwhile, your soul is ascending - and not in the good way.

“I-” you start, but then immediately stop, because holy shit.

You can’t even be mad at him for misunderstanding (even if you’re ninety-nine percent sure he’s fucking with you) because it’s completely valid. Because you really did chuck something at him right after he confessed.

And Choso, being Choso, just rolled with it, because of course he did. You hope he’s not crying internally or something.

He’s still waiting for an answer.

Still watching you, head tilted, expression lazy (you really need to learn how to read his emotions - he goes through them like nobody’s business, giving you whiplash), like this is all one big game to him. (It better not be.)

And okay. Fine.

If this is a game-

Then you’re about to win. Because you’re a winner, through and through.

You take a deep breath. Square your shoulders. Set your jaw.

“Oh my God,” you whine, dragging your hands down your face. Here goes your pride. “I can’t believe I like you, cause you’re such an idiot.”

Choso freezes. “You-”

You don’t give him a single second to react.

“You’re so fucking dense,” you continue, pointing at him, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Do you really think I would go out of my way to torment you every night for fun if I didn’t like you?”

He blinks.

“...Yes?”

You gasp, clutching your heart. “That is so rude! What do you take me for? A monster?”

Choso raises a brow. “You did throw something at me.”

“I panicked!”

He snorts.

“I did! You freaked me out, holding my wrist and asking me shit!” You throw your arms up in exasperation. “What was I supposed to do?”

Choso smiles, slow and sharp and entirely too self-satisfied. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says. “Not throw something at me?”

“Shut up.”

“No, really.” He crosses his arms, grin widening. “Anyways, this is good information to have, cause what I’m hearing is, if I want to get you flustered, all I have to do is-”

You slap a hand over his mouth.

“You finish that sentence,” you warn, voice low, “and you’re going to have a very short DJ career, and an even shorter lifespan.”

Choso laughs against your palm, and something in you melts.

You scowl, fully prepared to keep him like this indefinitely, but then-

He licks your hand.

You shriek.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You snatch your hand away like it’s been burned. “YOU’RE GROSS. YOU’RE ACTUALLY DISGUSTING.”

Choso, unbothered, just keeps grinning. “Worked, though.”

“I’m going to kill you,” you seethe.

“We just went through this,” he says easily. “You won’t.”

And that’s just it. That’s what does it. That’s what makes you snap.

Because he’s right. For all your bravado, all the things you’ve ever said, all the threats you’ve made - you won’t.

You won’t, because you like him.

Because you have always liked him.

Because he makes every shift more bearable, more eventful, every long night worth it, every moment filled with music and laughter and ridiculous banter.

Because you like the way he leans against the table during his sets, the way he always takes a second to find you in your booth, the way he pretends he’s not paying attention when he absolutely is.

Because he’s here, right now, looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and simultaneously managed to blow it up, and you just can’t take it anymore.

So you grab his shirt, yank him down to your level-

And kiss him.

Choso makes a sound against your lips - not of surprise, but like he’s been waiting for this, like he knew it was inevitable (show-off).

His fingers dig into your waist immediately, like he’s anchoring himself, like if he doesn’t hold onto you, you’ll disappear. And maybe that’s fair, because you feel like you might actually disintegrate, combust or cease to exist. Or all of them, at the same time.

It’s stupid how good he is at this.

How right it feels.

Like he was meant to kiss you, like you were meant to pull him closer, like your banter, your bickering, the months of pushing and pulling were always, always going to lead to this moment here.

Choso kisses like he does everything else - with intention, with control, with the perfect mix of smugness and ease that makes you want to either kiss him harder or strangle him.

(You choose the former, but the latter is still on the table, never fear.)

He is meticulous.

His lips part slightly, and your breath catches when his tongue brushes against yours - just enough to make your knees buckle. He grins into the kiss at the way you clutch the fabric of his shirt, a noise of satisfaction low in his throat like he’s won something.

(You’ll yell at him for that later. You’re kind of busy right now.)

But then, just when you start to lose yourself in it, just when you really start to forget everything else-

You feel movement near the soundboard.

Without hesitation, you break the kiss and smack his hand away.

Choso groans, exasperated. “Oh, come on.”

“You were gonna mess with my settings, weren’t you?”

He rubs the back of his hand, utterly repentant. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?!”

He grins, lazy, smug, love-drunk. “I was testing a theory.”

“Asshole. What theory?”

He leans in, voice dropping. “I wanted to see how distracted you were.”

You glare. “I will end you.”

“Hm. You just kissed me, pretty girl. That’d be a little contradictory.”

“Oh, trust me.” You poke a finger into his chest. “I can multitask.”

Choso chuckles, shaking his head like you’re the most ridiculous thing he’s ever seen. “You are actually impossible.”

“Yeah, and you’re insufferable. And a dumbass.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He tugs you closer, voice softer now. Smaller. Intimate. “But you seem to like me anyway, huh?”

And ugh.

Ugh.

Because, yet again, he’s right.

You do.

More than you should, maybe. More than you ever planned to.

So, obviously, instead of answering, instead of confirming what he already knows, you grab the front of his shirt again and press your lips to his.

Harder this time. (Almost like a punishment.)

Choso laughs against your lips, triumphant.

— Falling in love, one ridiculous mix at a time

Choso should’ve known the whole fucking club was in on it.

Scratch that. He did know. He just hadn’t realized the sheer extent of it.

Because, sure, he’d caught on to the way people had been watching - the not-so-subtle glances exchanges whenever he and you were in the same space, the whispered conversations cut short when he walked into a room, the smug little smirks far too many people wore whenever you and he bickered over the sound settings.

Hell, even Nanami had made a passing comment once, in the world’s most casual voice, about how he was “looking forward to an upcoming development”. At the time, Choso had assumed it was just Nanami being cryptic for no reason, because he did that sometimes. But now? Now, Choso realizes that that was code for I put money on you two idiots getting together.

But this? This goes so much deeper.

“You owe me, hardass.”

Choso doesn’t even flinch when Toji slaps a heavy hand onto his shoulder, grinning like he’s never won anything better in his life. Like he’s just secured generational wealth. The man is positively smug, downright gleeful, radiating satisfaction as he stands behind the bar, flipping a bottle in one hand.

“You bet on us?” Choso asks flatly, like he doesn’t already know the answer (hint: you already spilled the beans).

Toji barks out a laugh. “Bet on you? Nah. I bet against you. Thought you’d choke before you ever said anything.”

Choso rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey, it wasn’t personal,” Toji shrugs. “I just figured you were a stubborn bastard. No offense.”

Choso side-eyes him. “Right.”

“But Nanami,” Toji continues, nudging Choso with his elbow, “he had faith in you. Said you’d crack sooner rather than later.”

That catches Choso off guard. “Fuck off. You’re telling me Nanami bet on me, too?”

“Sure did,” Toji confirms. “Said he’s been watching your downfall for months.”

Downfall. Fantastic.

Choso rubs his temple, equal parts exasperated and impressed. The thought of Nanami - calm, collected, suit-wearing, no-bullshit Nanami - placing a bet on his love life is almost too much.

Then again, Nanami has been around long enough to witness every single dumb interaction between you and Choso. If anyone saw it coming, it was probably him. Him, or, of course, your boss.

But still.

A literal betting pool?

That’s ridiculous.

Even worse? You were in on it.

And Choso had found out in the worst way possible.

— Two days ago, five days after you first kissed him - The moment of betrayal™

“I can’t believe you profited off of my emotional turmoil.”

You barely look guilty. In fact, you look delighted.

Choso is still reeling. Still trying to process the fact that everyone around him had been making money off of his inability to cope with his own feelings.

“I’m an opportunist,” you say, way too smug for his liking.

“That’s called being a menace,” Choso deadpans.

“And yet.”

You smirk. You actually smirk. Like this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

And the worst part? You might be right.

Choso groans loudly, throwing his head back like he’s been personally wronged. “This is so stupid.”

“Oh, my pretty, pretty boy,” you tease, reaching up to pat his cheek. “You’re stupid.”

He grabs your wrist. Not hard, just enough to stop you from getting away with this unscathed.

You blink at him, completely unbothered.

Choso squints. “Did you just call me your pretty, pretty boy?”

You grin, clearly enjoying this way too much. “What, you gonna throw something about it?”

Choso considers it.

Briefly.

But then you’re laughing, and the sound is so good, so bright, so fucking annoying that he has to kiss you just to shut you up.

— Falling in love, one ridiculous mix at a time (contd.)

Choso sighs, deeply and dramatically, rubbing a hand down his face.

“So let me get this straight,” he says slowly, looking back at Toji. “You bet against me. Nanami bet on me. And my own girlfriend won money off of my emotional crisis.”

Toji just grins. “Technically it’s both of your emotional crises. She just embraced it.”

Choso stares. Then he sighs again, because of course.

Of course that’s how this all played out.

Toji claps a hand on his back, the picture of unbothered amusement. “Hey, don’t take it too hard, kid. The important thing is, you got the girl.”

Yeah.

Yeah, he did.

Choso glances across the club, eyes finding you instantly.

You’re perched in your booth, adjusting levels with an ease that never fails to impress him, head bobbing along to the beat of the track the current DJ is spinning. Every now and then, you glance over your shoulder at him, like you’re checking to make sure he’s watching.

(He is. He always is.)

And, God.

Choso is so in love with you.

So deeply, ridiculously, unapologetically in love with you.

Even when you’re a little shit.

Especially when you’re a little shit.

Maybe that’s why, when he finally makes his way over to your booth, the first thing he does is reach for your soundboard, just to piss you off.

Your hand smacks his away immediately.

“No.”

Choso grins. “What, I can’t touch?”

“You can touch me, not the soundboard.”

He hums, pretending to consider it. “Oh? That an invitation?”

You shove his face away, laughing. “Get out of my booth, Kamo.”

Choso leans in even closer instead, pressing a kiss to your cheek, then another just below your ear, just to see you squirm.

You do squirm, but you’re smiling.

And Choso? Yeah, he’s screwed.

But he’s okay with it. More than okay, in fact. Because the more he falls for you, the more he realizes - he’s got no desire to be saved from the chaos that’s you. The greatest nuisance in his life that’s you.

He likes it all just the way it is, and, damn, if you aren’t the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to him.

NOTE: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed part two as much as part one, and i also hope you stick around for the little extra stories i've whipped up for them! (art by omagatokii on X)

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daenysx · 11 months ago

Text

guys, please read at your own discretion (i mean it's not something too different from the usual nsfw content i write, it's just that reader touches herself to the thought of aemond and maybe some people can feel uncomfortable, i don't know, i'm a bit shy as i post this)

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, smut <333

aemond targaryen drives you insane.

he's- he's been on your mind since you got home.

fuck him.

no, that's- that's not what you want.

you just want him to shut the fuck up for only a minute, stop talking, stop saying what he thinks on something that matters too little for the philosophy class. stop trying to impress the professor. stop knowing everything. stop smirking when he gets something right. stop blinking those pretty eyes looking at the book, stop-

he needs to stop before you lose your mind.

you throw your bag on the floor, your messed up room can take a bit more mess because you're not gonna clean it today. not now. your blood's boiling, a thin layer of sweat forms on your hairline. taking off your clothes harshly, you put them on the floor, too.

feeling the cold bed sheets against your hot skin is nice. you close your eyes. calm down. stop going crazy over a man. over this man at least. he's pretentious, he's literally the devil himself sometimes, an insufferable prick. you should dislike him with your entire being.

you should.

the thing is- he's too pretty to be disliked.

you put your hand on your belly. fuck aemond targaryen. fuck his piercing blue gaze, his stupid flowy hair, his perfectly sculpted jawline. one time you saw his bare chest when he was at the training with the team. so fuck his statue-like physique. his abs. his happy trail and-

you need to get over it. you need to. it makes you feel like a fool every time you see him at school. every time when he sits next to you in class. you don't know if you hate him or if you're crazy for him. this is madness. stop thinking about him. stop.

you rub the soft skin of your hip bone. only wearing your panties, it'd be so easy to- but no. not when he's on your mind. squirming helplessly on bed, you move your legs. it's just- just for once. you can promise yourself to never do that again. oh.

sliding your hand inside your panties slowly, you find yourself wet. of course. he's an overachiever even now when he's turning you on, and he's not even here. your free hand plays with your nipple briefly. your entire body feels like it's on fire.

your hand goes down just a bit. you spread the wetness nicely, a shaky breath comes out of your lips. just this time. you need it for the peace of your mind. you'll get him out of your system after you finish. it's just a secret to keep for yourself.

you start rubbing your clit, it feels so nice. you need to be touched, your fingers move on the nub to find a good angle. you can never reach too far with your fingers when you try to stimulate yourself from inside, only managed to come from touching your g-spot once. it never happened again and it frustrates you more when you can't do it by yourself.

you go with the way you like. your eyes closed, your free hand thrown over your head. you move your hips to meet your two fingers, stroking the bundle of nerves. it's okay. you're doing okay. you can imagine him. it's gonna be okay.

his face flashes in your mind. that beautiful smile when he gets something right. oh, those pretty lips curving so nicely when the professor gives him a praise. you smile. why is he so pretty? it's not fair. he'd smile against your skin if he'd be here right now. he'd tell you how good you're doing for him. he looks like the type of guy who talks during sex. he practically never shuts up in class, why would he be silent when he gets you like this?

"there you go." he'd say, his voice low. "touch yourself for me. look at how wet you are, and i haven't even done anything." arrogant jerk. you keep rubbing your clit. almost there.

you think of his hands. the prominent veins showing when he holds his pen too tight. one time he held the door open for you, his hand all spread on the surface, long fingers and clean nails. he looks so clean, so put together. his fingers are definitely longer than yours. you imagine he'd knew how to fuck you with them the way you want.

"please." you whisper against nothing. you're in control yet it feels like you're not. "more. more."

you lift your hips, roll them on bed to meet your fingertips. the wetness is too much suddenly but you can't help yourself. it's the sweetest part, you're almost there. this madness will disappear. you need something- more. something to press harder. you'll lose your mind.

the sudden urge gets you and you take your pillow. putting it between your legs, you start humping. almost ashamed, but there's no reason. you need this. "come on, be a good girl. almost there, such a pretty baby. oh no, are you crying? what's there to cry, you silly girl, no, you can't stop, i told you to keep going."

his voice. fuck his voice. you press yourself harder, two fingers squeezed between the pillow and your body to keep rubbing your clit. come on, come on. you're going insane. he drives you insane. "oh!" you say, can't help yourself. "yes. yes." counting down the seconds.

and then- the tight bubble finally snaps. "aemond!" you whisper desperately. "oh, aemond- fuck." you slide yourself on the pillow, trying to last a bit longer. you hum, satisfied, the orgasm tiring you and clearing your head at the same time. you keep your eyes closed, he's right there. he gives you a proud smile. you've done so well. your back arches like a cat finally, one last movement on the pillow. it's over.

your body falls on the bed. opening your eyes, you see the room has darkened. your tired hand stays limp on your belly, the used pillow is still between your legs. you gotta clean yourself. you gotta drink some water.

you think it's over, this weird feeling you have for your rival. out of your system. your mind can function properly now. it's all okay.

your phone beeps with new messages.

aemond targaryen: hey

aemond targaryen: i was wondering if you'd like to be partners for the next philosophy assignment

aemond targaryen: i have an idea, i think you'll love it

fuck.

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sylvies-chen · 1 year ago

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okay so… I’m crying!

like. my tv is pauses right now because I’m crying and digesting that entire scene between zeus, poseidon, and percy because that was KILLER. like genuinely in terms of acting and writing that was such an astounding four minutes of television.

first off, rest in peace to lance reddick and a round of applause for his CHILLING performance. he plays zeus with such a perfect level of intentionality that even to see zeus be thrown off for a second is just barely noticeable. the temper, the control he exhibits in jumping between very different levels of emotion, it’s so insane. truly insane walker was keeping on par with an actor like that. and of course, then, with tont stephens himself. and poseidon’s entrance? LET’S TALK ABOUT IT.

to see poseidon, a proud species of god, jump in and immediately surrender to zeus ALL FOR PERCY is just… picture that. picture the father you’ve never met, who you’ve been wondering about your entire life. picture fearing he’s the worst man you’ve ever met, picture resenting him for adhering to a system you can see clearly as loveless and problematic but still having this weird complicated love for him because you just want to know where you come from. and the first thing you ever hear him say is, softly and to protect you, “I surrender.”

to put away pride like that, to let love win… the gods fail at that consistently, but he doesn’t in that moment. and so many details of this scene are absolutely perfect and that isn’t even an exaggeration. poseidon mentioning how percy’s inherited his rebellious streak from him because the sea doesn’t like to be contained. sally having taught percy ancient greek, and poseidon being not at all surprised— and, in that, the subtle recognition that sally did raise him and teach him everything. and then: the first question you ever get to ask your father? “do you dream about mom.” ARE YOU JOKING??? and poseidon need only smile, because the answer is obviously yes even though we don’t hear him say it.

I’m floored. honestly.

#abby liveblogs #pjo #pjo spoilers #percy jackson spoilers #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #poseidon #zeus #sally jackson #walker scobell #lance reddick #toby stephens

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soc69 · 1 year ago

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Erasermic family general hcs:

- when shinsou has bad dreams or intrusive memories of his time in the system it’s hizashi he goes to, not shouta, because even though hizashi was only in the system a short while he understands what Hitoshi went through and how it feels to be abandoned and not know what to do with all the emotions that comes with it.

- eri used to be terrified on present mic. Not of Yamada hizashi, the sweet guy who signs as he talks and makes her chamomile tea when she can’t sleep, but of present mic who looks like a huge flightless bird and squaks weird slang all the time. The fear was fixed when she saw hizashi undergoing the transformation process one day.

- hizashi and shinsou have developed their own ‘sign slang’. As the ones who’ve used it most throughout their lives and with someone new to try it out with they started making their own signs for internet catch phrases and swear words and it pisses Aizawa off so much that he’s left out of the loop. This, in turn, only further encourages shinsou and hizashi to the point where half the time they’re not even making sense to each other but just gesturing randomly whenever shoutas around to piss him off.

- I’m pretty sure it’s canon that hizashi has, like, no nostrils (or maybe really really small ones) on account of his quirk as stoping airflow through your nose means you can make louder vocalisations, so, although everyone thinks mic would be the only one who can cook between him and Aizawa, the two of the basically function as two halves of the same idiot in the kitchen. Since your sense of smell makes up about 70% of your taste buds, despite hizashi enjoying cooking and be able to follow a recipe, without shouta there to taste test, hizashi’s cooking becomes absolutely repulsive and he has no idea. Shouta on the other hand, is perfectly capable of cooking but just refuses to learn because he thinks the system they have worked out now is perfectly functional.

- the first time hizashi is left to cook for Hitoshi alone during one of his early visits, he suffers such a culinary disaster since shouta wasn’t there to supervise. Mic makes sure to tell Hitoshi to tell him if it’s nice or not but the kid is far too polite for that and struggles through 2/3 of the meal that is somehow both sour and salty while also being so fucking spicy that Hitoshi thinks his ears are bleeding before Aizawa comes home and picks something off hizashis plate and immediately tells mic it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever made and throwing out the entire meal. Hitoshi is absolutely flabbergasted, tears streaming, nose running, throat retching, as yamada and Aizawa both ask him why the fuck he didn’t say something.

- mic likes pretty much every type of music and has sampled practically every genre ever made and since eri has never had the chance to develop her own taste, he takes her on the axact same journey of self discovery. Eri ends up very similar to mic in that she likes a lot of different things but her absolute favourite genre ends up being ‘kawaii metal’ which mic and Hitoshi both find hilarious and let her play it all the time which Aizawa (who only ever listens to brown noise) absolutely fucking hates.

- Aizawa can’t drive. Like at all. He never learnt, never even took any lessons, never had any interest in it. Mic is older than him by a few months and got his lisence super quick and after that Aizawa decided he would never need to learn because he would always have hizashi to chauffeur him around.

- mic doesn’t get angry much so everyone thinks shouta is the scary one but the more you get to know Aizawa the more of a softy he becomes. Mic, on the other hand, is fucking terrifying when you piss him off. Hitoshi and eri have only ever seen it once when some bitch from Hitoshi’s old home ran into them and got mouthy. He’s the quiet anger type that just just radiates insane unpresidented rage and Aizawa finds it incredibly sexy.

- eri is the kind of kid who collects bugs from the garden and spends hours watching them crawl over her hands in absolute amazement because she’s never seen so many of them before. As we all know, mic is terrified of bugs, but eri did not know this until she invited all her little creepy crawly friends into the house for move night. Cue them all cuddled up on the couch one day when mic feels something crawling over his legs. At first he thinks it’s Aizawa as his legs draped over his lap and tells him to cut it out and Aizawa is like ‘huh?’, looks down, and sees the fattest, juiciest cockroach ever on yamadas leg. Aizawa, who also doesn’t really like bugs all that much, is like “zashi, do not fucking move” and eri catches on, turns around and is like “oh! Patrick is here” which makes mic finally notice and release the most deafening scream ever and jumps five ft into the air which knocks a sleeping Hitoshi to the floor who wakes up face to face with a massive fucking spider and joins yamada in the screaming match while Aizawa is using his quirk on mic so none of them go deaf while climbing the furniture to avoid all the bugs and screaming for everyone to calm down in an uncharacteristically high voice while eri just sits on the floor amongst the chaos like “I just wanted you guys to meet my friends”. The house gets fumigated after that.

#eri mha #mha #my hero academia #mha headcanons #erasermic family #erasermic #eraserhead #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shinsou hitoshi #bnha #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero acedamia #erasermic hcs #erasermic family hcs

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laereviewsrandomly · 12 days ago

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Lae Reviews: Clair Obscur: Expedition 33

What a game, huh? I had been following this game for a while before its release, having found it a year ago when its reveal trailer dropped for all to see, and my expectations have never been met so perfectly. Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 is a turn-based role-playing game developed by Sandfall Interactive and released in April 2025. The game follows a group of Expeditioners on their journey to defeat the Paintress so that the limitations upon their lives are lifted.

SPOILER-FREE REVIEW

In this section, I will provide my short, spoiler-free review. My numerical rating of the game (out of ten) will also be provided here. I have never been so utterly captivated by a game until I pressed play on Clair Obscur. Which is strange to say when it comes from former developers at Ubisoft. However, any expectations I had for this game, and they were high, were shattered when I allowed myself to sit down and play it through properly. I dedicated an entire day to my first session of it and, God, it was worth it. The gameplay is delightful, even for those who do not find themselves drawn to turn-based games often. It is surprisingly fast-paced in encounters, and I found myself on the edge of my seat often, attempting to lock the hell in so that I would have a perfect round of defence before my go.

An incredibly accurate representation of what I would be doing in encounters

Immensely enjoyable gameplay, mixed with one of the best game soundtracks I've had the pleasure of experiencing, creates a gaming experience that honestly I can only describe as ascending to the heavens. The music in this game is heavenly. There is no other way to put it, honestly. It is an all-consuming soundtrack that buries itself into the core of your being, no matter if you are in an intense fight, or a gut-wrenching scene (of which there are many).

The story, which I won't speak on very much in this segment, is a fantastic exploration of grief and what love can do to a person. I will fully admit I shed tears over several moments, and I would do it all again. If you are looking for a story to make you question everything about love, you have certainly found it.

Ratings:

Music: 10/10 Gameplay: 9/10 Story: 10/10 Satisfaction: 10/10 Replayable?: Absolutely.

Overall score: 9.75/10

SPOILER REVIEW AHEAD

From this point on, spoilers are everywhere! You have been warned...

GAMEPLAY

Now, I'm not the biggest turn-based game player on the planet. I've played Baldur's Gate 3 and enjoyed it, but that is about as far as my experience with the genre goes. So, I can't make comments in the same way as veterans of the genre, but I can provide a casual player's perspective.

Skills, Pictos and Luminas

My favourite part about the skills in Clair Obscur is how varied they are, while also being uniquely tailored to each character. The characters all have very different ways of fighting, very different playstyles, that can all provide a sort of synergy with one another. Skills are not outrageously expensive, and you can strategise when spending your skill points so that you can get to some insanely powerful skills that make the late game incredibly fun to play. When I'm being honest with myself, I'll admit one of my favourite parts of this game is watching the damage numbers get massive at the very start of a round. It's like my own personal brand of heroine, and the skills make it easier to get there. Once I unlocked Maelle's Stendahl ability, I realised that there was really no going back for me. It truly is her best ability, doing insane damage and making it feel so very satisfying. I believe it is that satisfaction that makes the skill system work so well for me, the skills are simple to understand once you understand a character's core gameplay and then the dopamine rush you get from hitting an annoying boss with a million points of damage with a skill you worked towards from Act 1 all the way into Act 3 really just is a feeling unlike any other.

Me looking at a mini-boos like a delicious meal in Act 3 onwards. I won't lie, when they first brought up Pictos and Luminas in the game, I got confused. However, I am slow to understand parts of games, no matter the game, so I can't necessarily fault the game for that. Pictos and Luminas are those extra passive boosts that you can get aside from your skills to improve your damage, defence and overall gameplay. You can equip up to three Pictos at one time, per character, and you train them through three different stages in battle. They can also be levelled up, which increases the stat boosts they provide. Luminas are then extra Pictos that you can add to your character through Colours of Lumina points, found all around the game maps. Colours of Lumina allow you to slowly add more Pictos to your characters and make them insanely strong - and I mean insanely. After I had finished the main story on my first run of the game, I went around and did some side-questing in my pursuit of achievements. I had around 90-100 Colours of Lumina at that point, and I found a mini-boss just in the open world. In all honesty, I flew into it accidentally, and I hadn't intended to fight the boss - I was quite annoyed at myself over it. Then I realised, I had Maelle first turn; she was in Virtuose Stance, with 8 AP (Attack Points) ready to rumble. So, I did what any sane, frustrated player would do. I used Stendahl, and let me tell you...With Pictos and Luminas backing that one attack, and two perfect skill checks passed, that boss was seeing the light of heaven before Maelle even finished the move. Insane power. For some, it takes the joy out of it - for me, I was laughing hysterically.

Parrying and Dodging

If anyone tries to claim that they hold the record for being the angriest at a video game, they have never seen me trying to parry the attacks of Simon (part 2: evil boogaloo) in the Abyss. I didn't go into this game expecting a rage mechanic, but by God, I found one. I, one hundred percent, know it is a skill issue on my part, but when you miss a parry in a combo of hits in this game, it feels like God has forsaken you and banished you to the shadow realm at times.

All my rage aside, parrying and dodging are two amazing mechanics that keep the gameplay flowing in encounters. In between your turns, enemies have the chance to attack, and you can either parry the attack or choose to dodge it. Though a simple gameplay addition, it adds an intensity to the game I really did not see coming. Having to remember the combinations of moves that an enemy does in a certain combo, if they force you to jump or if the attack is a gradient (a special attack that deals extra damage), has you staring so intently at the screen that the enemy might get stage fright and run away. I learned, through trial and significant error, that the most important part of an enemy's attack is their sound cue, not their movement. An enjoyably infuriating part of the parry/dodge system is that the enemies love to fake their attacks - they love to do it a lot. It used to drive me mad, I would freak out to the point that I am ninety percent sure that my roommates might be concerned for me. However, once the sound cues became clear to me, it simply became a game of forcing my brain to ignore the endless edging of the enemy animations and instead focus on the sounds they made. I felt like a Jedi in training. The satisfaction of getting through a successful series of parries and hearing the start of your counterattack can only be comparable to eating the best damn dessert of your life. 10/10 would bite my desk in anguish for it again any day.

Stats

The stats in Clair Obscur are incredibly simple: health, strength, defence, critical hit chance and number of turns. Level them up as your character levels up, with three stat points per level. A simple system that does not need anything special, really. It is a normal RPG element. However, I do find that investment in certain stats proved (at least for me) to be surprisingly more effective than doing a standard three points to strength every level. The agility stat has to be the most important in the game; that's all I'll say.

Levels

Clair Obscur has the player explore various maps on the Continent to progress towards the Paintress. Each area is beautiful to the eye and does not feel like it overstays its welcome. You fight various new and interesting enemies that fit the environment they are in, alongside some mini-bosses hidden around the place. The levels all have unique soundtracks as well, allowing for a fresh view to be accompanied by a new, life-changing score. My only issue I ever had with the levels is how confusing some of them are. I find myself getting lost at times and wishing for a map of some kind to gently guide me more onto my path again. I got turned around on many occasions, which could honestly just be a skill issue, but I bring it up regardless. While it was not outright infuriating, mostly because I was too infatuated with the beautiful level design, it was definitely noticeable and I often found myself saying the words "where am I?"

Open World

In the game, once you get through Spring Meadows, you have a vast open world map to explore called the Continent.

You slowly unlock new ways to traverse it thanks to your, hopefully good, friend Esquie, who helps you run, swim and fly around the place.

God, I love that guy.

The open world allows you to enter non-story areas, fight mini-bosses and do challenges. It is a nice expansion on the main story and allows you to really live in the world and immerse yourself in its wonderful oddities. Challenges, such as the Gestral Beaches (certainly a challenge!), allow for you to unlock various new cosmetics and items for your Expeditioners to look and fight their best, which is always a helpful pit stop in between main story quests. Mini-bosses are scattered around in various little challenge areas, as well as on the Continent itself, allowing for extra fighting for those brave enough. Each mini-boss is unique in its fighting style and feels like it was made with love for the genre. Satisfying to beat, even if difficult.

I have insane beef with the Lampmaster mini-boss.

Camp

Once you reach a certain point in the game, leaving to find Maelle in the Flying Waters, the game prompts you to camp for the first time.

Camp allows you to upgrade weapons, invest your Colours of Lumina, and check out your awesome record collection, write in your journal and check on your Expeditioners. One of my favourite things to do in Clair Obscur was checking on the characters. I loved having the individual conversations and growing the relationships between Verso and the others, slowly unlocking new hidden stories about each character while coming to understand their thoughts and feelings about the progressing story. All the while gaining their individual Gradient Attacks (special attacks that do extra damage) that feel like you really earned them through getting to know the character individually. Depth is everywhere in this game, you never have to look far to find a story that is worth the effort of experiencing.

STORY

Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 has one of the best game stories I've ever had the pleasure of experiencing. I could just end it there, to be honest. That's all you need to know; it's incredible. A heart-wrenching tale of what love does to people. Of course, I'm a nerd though so I will be going into detail. However, if you have read this far and not played the game, go play it first! The story should be experienced blind to have the best experience!

Act 1: Gustave

The first act is, unsurprisingly, a lot of set up. You learn about the world, the plight its people face and how they plan to stop it. The prologue, which I'm including in the Act 1 section even though it's a separate chapter (no one can control me), has to be the first game to ever make me cry in the first thirty minutes. Truly, they used Charlie Cox being devastated against me. I hate it when Daredevil is sad. Seeing the Gommage first hand, instead of it just being spoken about, was a fantastic way to open the story. It set the stakes, and it set them high. Having Gustave lose the love of his life instantly gives us a clear motivation for our opening protagonist and has us empathising with his grief and determination from minute one. When Sophie turned into flower petals, I was ready to go to war for that sad little man.

Continuing ever on, you meet your fellow Expeditioners and get to know them before departing for the continent. Then, the game decides the suffering is too minimal for the beginning of a story and has Renoir obliterate everyone. I did not see this coming, and so I was slack-jawed as I watched the people I briefly became acquainted with die like it was D-Day. Gustave was incredibly relatable in that sequence; my guy was just as shocked as I was.

Andy Serkis, always at the scene of a crime. Paragraph TW: Suicidal ideation

Traversing through the Spring Meadows, getting used to the combat system along the way, you find yourself in a moment with Gustave as he experiences his worst moment (worst as in, tragic). He finds a pile of his comrades' corpses in a cave, and a large part of him begins to give him - it's clear in his eyes. He sits there for a moment, contemplating, before he lifts his gun to his skull with a clear intent of giving up as the journey begins. Experiencing a low like this so early in the game was expected, but it didn't make me want to hug the man any less. Gone was the hopeful inventor we saw at the beginning of our expedition; all that remained was the guilt-ridden survivor who could do nothing but stand there as his friends fell one by one to an enemy they could not hope to defeat. The build-up of emotional devastation that Gustave had felt in the literal beginning hour or so of the game gave so much weight to this scene, and I found myself on the verge of tears once more. In that moment, he had lost everyone.

When one falls, we continue.

I feel the introduction of Lune at this moment was a perfect choice. The one character that motivated the rest to move forward, especially Gustave, coming in and reminding Gustave that it is not over until the bitter end. They had a mission, and Lune helped Gustave remember that. Death was expected, and so they had to push through.

You persevere onwards with your duo of Expeditioners until you find Maelle again. In the strange, reality-defying, manor, you catch a glimpse of something not being quite right with Maelle for the first time. From this reunion, I knew something was up with that girl. Her strange relationship with the continent and its creatures was so interesting to watch unfold as this act progressed, her nightmares adding to this. Each time the screen turned black and white, I watched with rapt attention as pieces of the mystery surrounding her revealed themselves slowly. I had my theories, but none were quite right in the end, and I appreciate that. I hate it when I can guess exactly what a story is going to do. I prefer to guess and only get some things correct over predicting the future. Escaping Flying Waters, you go on in search of Gestrals. Gestrals are one of my favourite parts of this game. When I first got to the Gestral Village, I spent about twenty minutes going around and looking at all the different Gestrals. Funny, silly little paintbrush people that add a lightness to the story that I needed. I giggled when they talked to me about their love of fighting and beating each other up, and I loved how when you fight some of them, they are distinctly unique fighters (big up my goat, Dominique Giant Feet).

I could not find a GIF of Dominique Giant Feet, so have Monoco doing a little jig instead.

Fighting through the Gestral Tournament allows you to add my favourite empath, Sciel, to your party. Sciel is the lifeblood of your Expedition, in my humble opinion. She acts as the glue holding everyone together while still being surprisingly calm. Not to mention, she is strong as hell in battle. I am a big fan of the sequence in the village; it acts as a nice breather for the story. You go through, experiencing all this pain from the moment you arrive on the continent, and it's nice to just meet some silly guys and bro around. Get into a cheeky fight with a few of them and then find one of your friends. An optimistic section, it made me very happy. After unlocking Sciel, you go on to find one of my favourite characters in the game - Esquie. God, this guy is such a goofy goober. I love him. I would give my life for him. While he is mainly there to help you traverse the continent in new ways to progress the story, I love that you can just go have a silly conversation with him at your camp. Incredibly sad story beat? He knows he will hug you. Just feeling down for all the tragedy in this game? He'll provide you with a silly dialogue that turns those Whoo feelings into Whee feelings. He's not a big part of the story, but he is my world.

After meeting Esquie, the game decides you have had too much joy and promptly fixes that. Gustave's death punched me in the jaw and shot me three times. I did not see it coming at all. I felt as Maelle did in that moment, devastated and angry. It is always effective when the villain kills a fan favourite, I just didn't expect it to be our protagonist. I will admit I had to sit there in shock for about ten minutes after it happened. A soul-destroying moment after so many hopeful encounters. A reminder of mortality in a world built to punish its people for sins they did not commit. Certainly a way to end an act, that's for sure.

Act 2: Verso

I don't think we could have met Verso under worse circumstances. He shows up, saves Maelle from Renoir and is suddenly the new character that replaces Gustave. I suppose that gave me a little bias against him in the beginning. I mean, he thought he could waltz in and replace my goat after all! Not okay. However, through this act, he proves himself to the group and me, as he helps them progress further towards the Paintress. Verso is one of those characters that you go in with a distrust of his reasoning. You find yourself wondering why he didn't step in sooner and save Gustave; you might even blame him for Gustave's demise. I know I did, a little. But you grow to love this poor little broken man who just wants a happy life with his family, being normal.

Not long after meeting Verso, we are introduced to Monoco. Monoco is a Gestral who can speak English (the only one who can, seemingly). He's a little bit of an oaf, but I found that incredibly endearing about him. Monoco was, for me, an apology directly from Sandfall for killing Gustave. My favourite addition to the Expeditioners and his feet collection truly acted as a lifesaver in some fights for me (no, I'm not explaining the feet collection, you have to go play the game for that one). Adding a being that has only ever lived on the Continent was such a wonderful choice in my opinion, all he wanted to do was impress the humans and live his life with Noco.

Once Monoco is safely in your Expedition, you journey onwards to Old Lumiere as instructed by Verso. The characters become more comfortable with one another, and at camp, you can improve Verso's relationship level with the different characters to unlock new abilities and get them to open up to him. I think adding a relationship-level system with the arrival of Verso is brilliant. It means you can slowly get to know the characters even better alongside him; with Gustave, you were at a disadvantage, the characters had known each other all their lives, but with Verso, you're given a chance to understand them from step one.

Through Old Lumiere, you come to a familiar Manor. There, you have a moment with Maelle, furthering the mystery surrounding her, only for it to be interrupted by Verso. In this sequence, Verso is revealed to be related to Renoir. While this didn't surprise me, I rather enjoyed how the other characters reacted to him. After the boss fight with Renoir, the characters are colder to Verso for a bit, apart from Monoco and Esquie. I liked that a lot. Verso being stonewalled a bit, both made sense and added to my distrust of him. At that point, I had grown to like him more, but I sure as hell did not trust him to do the right thing. The manor scenes were a great way to show how Verso is not necessarily here to just help the Expedition.

Progressing onwards, you defeat Axons to create a way to breach the barrier around the Paintress. However, when you get to her, you find yourself unable to harm her. No skill harms her, and there is nothing to counterattack - she doesn't even acknowledge you.

It becomes obvious that the giant Paintress is not the real thing, and the Expedition must enter the Monolith. The Monolith level has to be my favourite in the game. A walk through all the main story levels again, reminding yourself of how far you have come to get here, with each one having a glimpse into the memories of the Paintress. It is here where you start to feel little questions bubbling up in your mind, wondering if you're doing the right thing. I loved seeing each memory and properly starting to piece together the identity of the Paintress. When you finally reach her, her identity is made clear when she sees Verso.

The Paintress being Verso's mother made me question fighting her at all. She seemed so confused and lost, but also grieving. It is here that you understand the tragedy that befell the Dessendre family. The fire spoken of in brief dialogue and the regret that follows Verso has its first small payoff here. In the second phase of the Paintress fight, I found myself hesitant to attack her because of all the built up emotional surrounding the fight. In the end, I did finish the fight. The Paintress is defeated and Verso and his family regain the mortality they lost.

The group returns to Lumiere, hailed as heroes, as Verso slips away to read the letter his sister gave him. At this moment, it is revealed that the Paintress was never the true adversary of the plot, and Verso knew that. In an incredible twist, we learn that Verso had neglected to tell anyone of the real threat that they face as everyone in Lumiere Gommages. The end of Act 2 was somehow more devastating than Act 1 for me. It was a soul-crushing moment that had me step away from the game for a full day as I came to terms with how all the efforts of my Expeditioners were in vain, and Verso knew. The Act Epilogue is disorienting, especially after what just happened. After Maelle Gommages, her true memories are revealed to her. It is revealed that the world the player had been fighting for was, in fact, an artificial reality created by the real Verso. We learn that Maelle is Alicia, Verso's sister, and she had been badly injured in the fire that killed the real Verso. We learn of Alicia's guilt over Verso's death, and how their mother lost herself in grief, choosing to stay in Verso's canvas. At this point, we come to a simple qualm I have with the story: they briefly talk about a war between Painters and Writers in the real world, and I found myself wanting to know more about it. It's not really expanded on, and I do understand why, but it doesn't stop my curiosity, which frustrated me a little bit.

We find out that Alicia went into the canvas to help with the fighting between her mother and father. Her father had gone into the canvas to convince her mother to leave it and come back to reality, and they were in a stalemate. Alicia sought to help with the turmoil, only to lose herself in the canvas and live a false life as Maelle. I found this reveal interesting, and I believe it was satisfying to experience the mystery of Maelle coming together.

Act 3: Maelle

This act is rather short compared to the others, but I'm alright with that. Maelle returns to the canvas with her memories intact and brings back Verso. They speak of everything that happened and of Verso's choice to hide Maelle's identity from her.

This act is purely for pulling everything together, to tie off some loose ends and to provide a closing statement on the game. Maelle revives your Expeditioners, and it then montages her collecting Chroma (power) to then take on her father after a retreat at the beginning of the act. I do appreciate that they did not make us go through and grind Chroma collection, I cannot say the same for other games (cough, Ubisoft, cough), but I do feel that it did make the act feel somewhat like it was speedrunning through. The final battle in Lumiere is pretty awesome. The music is at its best, Maelle's Chroma soldiers are holding off enemies all around you as you get closer to Renoir to stop him from destroying the canvas.

The final confrontation with Renoir is interesting; you don't just oust him from the canvas and call it a day. Instead, it ends with Maelle convincing him to let her stay in the canvas in a gut-wrenching moment as you realise the canvas is consuming her much like her mother. Verso, however, does not want this to happen. Maelle and Verso have a confrontation where you are forced to choose a side between them.

Me when I am forced to choose between Pookie One and Pookie Two.

Whoever you side with defines your ending. There are only two endings in the game. I can safely say the ending I chose was not the right one. I sided with Maelle, and I got a modern tragedy as I watched Verso beg Maelle to end it. I don't think I will ever truly recover from the ending I got, which is why I will be getting through a New Game+ to see the other one (I'm using it as an excuse to play the game again). God, this game knew exactly how to kill me. Coming out of this game, I feel like a different person from the one going in. Grief and love have never felt so close together for me, and it was truly an exploration of how much my heart can take. Turns out, my heart can't take much.

Me after finishing Clair Obscur: Expedition 33 for the first time.

MUSIC

LISTEN TO IT. EXPERIENCE ASCENSION.

Threats aside, this is probably my favourite game soundtrack ever. I don't usually listen to soundtracks outside of where they come from, it's just not really my thing, but I found myself drawn to this one so badly that it has the top position on my Spotify On Repeat playlist.

I genuinely cannot fully express how embedded this music is in my being. I took moments of pause in various encounters just to break it down to the sound of a French woman pouring her heart and soul into each song. It all being composed by just one person is literally insane to me. How does one create so many bangers without failure? I know I'll never reach such heights.

CONCLUSION

This game will be stuck in my brain for the rest of my days. My expectations for video games have been lowering as of late, with games such as Assassin's Creed Shadows numbing me to the point that I just played games to get through the motions. I had lost my love of single-player stories until I was graced with Clair Obscur and reminded that some stories are told for the experience, not the profit. If you decide to play only one story-driven game this year, in the sea of multiplayers and battlepasses, play the little French game and learn what it is like to experience a true labour of love. Now, I hope you enjoyed this ramble of a review. I did it for those who come after.

P.S.: This is my first review! I tried my best! :)

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koopageneral · 10 months ago

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INANIMATE INSANITY SEASON 2 EPISODE 15 SPOILERS. PLEAASE GO WATCH IT

Omgaaa I need to EXPLODE cuz of Taco’s Tirade. Gonna go on a rant analysing it prty much line-by-line so STRAP IN!! (Shout out to everyone who worked on this masterpiece omfg)

It starts off with what might be considered ‘normal’ Taco. Her making fun of the contestants. There is a little bit of hinting at her sympathy towards the contestants, although it’s incredibly shrouded in her mastermind facade. Calling them ‘pathetic’ and comparing them to blindly obedient dogs with ‘how they run to fetch their sticks.’

We get a little bit more with ‘Sure, call me polemic, unsympathetic.’ It shows how shes aware that she’s a problem, although at this point in the song it’s unclear to the audience whether she’s saying it in a way of ‘yeah call me it cuz it’s true, I don’t care.’ Or if it’s ‘call me these things, yeah, but I’m more than that.’

‘Look at me and all you see is the debris of some defective outcast.’ Feels like it’s getting into the meat of the song, and the episode as a whole, of how Taco has realized how she’s pushed everyone away for the sake of the game. The fact she has her arms tucked away during it gives another interesting interpretation, of it actually talking about before her big reveal, and how she was treated differently because she was, in her words, ‘defective.’

‘A frenetic, antithetic (if poetic) iconoclast.’ Frenetic means wild and energetic, probably, again, referring to her season 1 persona. Antithetic means opposite of something, and iconoclast means someone who attacks cherished institutions. This gets into her want to tear this entire show to the ground for the suffering it’s caused everyone.

‘I wont live in the past. I almost won this game once, you know.’ I’m just gonna parrot what @lemonxlimee said cuz they put it pretty succinctly with two words. Taco. Girl.

Then we get to the lines that got me started on this tirade (Pun intended.) ‘History is rearranged just to credit those who win the glory. So reality has changed in the edit when they spin the story.’ AUGH. Her fucking staring down at the hotel made of the money she spent SO HARD and lost SO MUCH to try and get. I. I want to scream about this. I don’t know how to put my thoughts on this line into fucking words.

‘And we choose to feel this pain.’ Going off the last line, Taco, out of almost anyone in the cast, knows how much you have to go through just to get a chance to win, which goes right into the next line.

‘We lose more than we gain.’ She lost Pickle. You might say that she didn’t actually care, but I’m not sure if I believe that. I feel like she might not have at first, and maybe even never when they actually were playing together. But you can’t convince me she doesn’t hate herself for using him on a plan that resulted in nothing. She also lost Mic, and it’s incredibly clear how much that affected her. That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and showed her the flaws in this system.

‘I will break this cycle of mistakes unlike all of these snakes whom I call to condemn.’ She is fucking DETERMINED to make everyone see what they’ve sacrificed. She speaks with a level of contempt towards them, yes, but I feel like it’s more her projecting her feelings about the contest onto the contestants.

Then we’ve got MePad being best therapy boy. ‘You are incapable of starting over.’ She wants to be better. But she doesn’t feel worthy.

And then MePad’s slightly naive optimism with ‘I do not know who you lost, but is it not possible to get them back?’ He’s programmed to see the best in everyone. He wants things to work out. He doesn’t see how hard it might be to just make things better after a relationship exclusively built on lies.

This naivete is immediately contrasted by Taco’s all-encompassing pessimism. ‘Clear the slate, start again, do you hear how preposterous that sounds? How do you not comprehend that for someone with my monstrous background, the whole slate has fallen apart.’ To Taco, the bridges between her and Mic or Pickle are nothing but smoldering piles of rubble after all the pain she’s put them through.

This contrast is even more stark with the duet of ‘It’s too late’ and ‘It’s not too late.’ I don’t even know what to say about that, it’s pretty black and white.

For the duet, gonna go one character at a time for simplicity. Starting with Taco.

We see taco’s turmoiled feelings on whether she’s to blame, with ‘It’s not I, it’s they who deigned to play.’ Even after all of this internal conflict and deep personal realizations, there’s still a part of her that wants to cast the blame of the pain she’s caused onto the ones she’s hurt.

Another deflection she throws out is, honestly, probably more fair, if still not great. ‘This game, so cruel and inhumane, base and uncouth.’ This really gets into her main philosophy for the episode. She’s afraid to take responsibility, and pins the blame on the show for pitting everyone against one another. I want to make it clear, her point is incredibly valid. We see during THIS EPISODE how much it turns people against eachother. The challenge is entirely built around making the contestants spill their true feelings about each other, and using that to fuel drama. Suitcase literally has to choose between two people she cares about over who she’s bringing into the finals, pitting Baseball and Knife against eachother. While the show is ‘cruel and inhumane’, I don’t think that should just be a het out of jail free card for Taco. Yes, she did it because she felt there was no other choice to win, but she still did horrible things. She manipulated 2 people into actually believing she cared.

‘They’re too afraid to bear the bed they made, can’t bring themselves to face the awful truth.’ This is pretty much just her saying that the other contestants are too blind to see how much pain they’ve gone through to get to where they are.

NOW. Baby boy therapist, MePad.

‘You’re no menace, Taco, how did they hurt you?’ He agrees with Taco on the grounds of how much pain the contestants go through, but he’s just a little more concerned about the tact needed to show them. He knows that Taco wants to change, but she’s afraid to. He knows how much she wants to apologize to the people she’s hurt. He feels that there has to be something external she’s dealing with to have this level of spite in her, even if there isn’t, and all of her hate is towards herself.

‘Please think this through’ is pretty self explanatory. As I said, he agrees with Taco about her basic ideals, but feels like there are better ways to deal with the issue.

‘Feeling double crossed is part of dealing with the loss, yes, but the healing is a process, that’s the truth.’ He wants to see Taco get better, and he’s trying to get through to her about the fact that her feelings are entirely valid, but she has to, at some point, let go.

I also feel like the sound mixing is very purposeful. Taco’s voice rings through clearly, able to be heard without much difficulty. MePad’s vocals are softer, and a little quieter and harder to make out. Taco is so in her own head about the pain she’s gone through, she refuses to listen to any outside voice.

Then we get to Taco trying her best to cover up her emotions again and put on her mastermind persona with ‘I’m turning up the heat to sauté, I’ve some beef to get grilled. But I guarantee that today all the beans that get spilled won’t be mine.’ I love how this foreshadows the challenge, but doesn’t make it obvious.

We see one last crack in her facade in the penultimate ‘I’m fine.’ Again, the ‘mistake’ in this line feels incredibly purposeful. It’s incredibly pitchy and bad, to an almost ear-splitting level. Taco knows she isn’t actually okay at ALL, and has trouble telling such a blatant lie.

And then the last line, ‘now it’s time’, is her fully donning the mask once again, ready to expose the show for what it is.

ANYWAY. Uh. Thanks for reading all this bs. I fucking love this song so much, and I think Taco’s motivation in this episode is fascinating. Any comments or constructive criticism of my analysis is MORE than appreciated, hope you all have a wonderful day/night/whenever.

#inanimate insanity #taco ii #taco inanimate insanity #ii spoilers #ii 15 #object shows #ii mepad #mepad #inanimate insanity mepad #taco tirade

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