Head empty, no thoughts, just inexperienced Choso.
Oh how his little puppy eyes would look up at you, filled with excitement and lust as soon as you take your shirt off, revealing the plump tits he’s been taking a glance at every now and then. He’s always felt ashamed for looking at them, but he couldn’t help it, the unexplainable desire he felt just kept his eyes fixated.
How the bulge in his pants would just grow bigger with each second you let him stare at your chest. He feels like he could cum then and there as soon as you let him touch them as well.
And just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, you lifted your little skirt up to show him that drenched pair of panties which was covering your entrance. His jaw hung open as a little huh.. escaped his lips. All his years of just killing off other curses or humans, he never would’ve thought that he’d kneel in front of a human, watching her gently rub the little nerve bundle through her panties. If he had a tail, it would be wagging from left to right for sure.
Choso watched carefully as you rubbed the fabric against your pussy. He was mesmerized, not only by the sight, but also by the quiet whimpers you’d let out every now and then. You made his heart pound 5 times faster, made his cock throb, and made this oh so dangerous curse drool without even noticing.
Inexperienced little Choso who could only whine as you shoved his face against your clothed pussy. He wasted no time licking the soaked fabric, trying to reach as deep as possible with his tongue. All his blood shot into his dick, while you were riding his face.
‘Hah…That’s it Cho…Oh fffuck..Such a good boy f' me Cho…Such a good..haaah' You could’ve sworn he’s done this before, he knew all the good spots. Choso’s puppy eyes only grew bigger at your praise, he loved being at your mercy, pleasing you, making you feel good, maybe even making you cum. And you made sure he knew just how good it felt.
Don’t get me started on how whiny and needy he gets as soon as he feels your tight little cunt around his length for the first time. 'Oh fffuck…Baby..Baby…Baby..Ah so tight…s’ good…I..hah..love this…love you..’ He wasn’t going to let go of you anytime soon, now that you’ve showed him this new sensation, this feeling that he never wanted to be unaware of again. His thrusts were so sloppy, so needy, so filled with lust.
From now on Choso would never hold back again whenever he accidentally got hard because of something you did, he’d fuck your brains out, even though you were supposed to be the one in control. You turned little inexperienced Choso into a whore for your touch<3
reqs are open (slow atm tho), reblogs, likes and feedback is more than appreciated. stay safe!!
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ so, many people have wondered — how did rapper!dallas and popstar!reader meet? here’s your answer.
it was a stressful morning for you. recording a song for your upcoming album was always fun, sure, but nothing else was enjoyable. nothing was happening on time, your producer had just been broken up with so he was grumpy, and no one would get you an iced matcha. now, on any day, maybe you could’ve brushed past this. and truthfully, you were so close to staying relaxed! but you had just been alerted that the paparazzi was swarming your studio. icing on the cake, right?
taking a deep breath, you pull out your pink bejeweled pocket mirror and reapply your lipgloss, trying to look the best for the inevitable cameras that would take photos of you from every angle. your bodyguard takes his position next to you, and you face the paps as you walk out the door.
it felt as if fireworks were being shot as you when hundreds of camera flashes are in your face. men and women are calling your name, trying to ask you questions or direct you to pose and look at their camera. your bodyguard had to push some of the paparazzi away when they tried to get too close to you — okay, yeah, this was getting scary. the paps were aggressive today. and you were about to get grabbed by a stranger to answer some questions until he came.
dallas doesn’t know how he managed to get into one of the best recording studios in your city. he started out as a rapper on soundcloud, and then a popular producer scouted him. he was still niche, but popular enough with a lot of ladies and teenage boys who looked up to him. he’s not sure how he’s managing to get some cash from what was supposed to be a hobby.
he had just finished recording a song, and he was in the middle of making a phone call to his ex-girlfriend to ask her if she wanted to feature in his song. the phone was held in his tatted hand as he walked out of the studip. that’s when he noticed you.
he recognizes you instantly, even from behind — you’re crazy famous, and admittedly his celebrity crush. he’s not sure how you have such an incompitant security guard with the level of fame you have, but he chooses not to dwell on it.
he hangs up his phone and adjusts his belt holding up his baggy jeans, and rushes into the crowd. “hey man, get the fuck outta the way!” he exclaims through the commotion, roughly shoving away a man in the way of him. he was a greaser, he never shyed away from violence to get what he wanted.
he grabs you before you know what’s happening. “c’mon princess, in the car, i gotcha,” he says from behind you, holding your pretty shoulders. “my driver will get you home,”
you have truly no choice but to trust this man, or else you’re going to be swarmed again, so you get in the back of the car with this man. in the quiet, you finally get a good look at him. he has bushy brown eyebrows and matching brunette hair. his eyes are wide and dark, and his lips seem to be casually parted in the sexiest way. he’s manspreading on the leather chair. his jeans are baggy and held up by a belt, and you can see his black boxers underneath, and his buldge peeking through the denim. his arms have tattoos but not enough to classify as a sleeve, and his white tshirt probably covers some more ink on his chest, where some light hair pokes out. he was a dream.
“do you do music?” you ask him curiously, because he had come out of the same studio as you.
he shrugs, pulling out a cigarette from a box in his pocket, and lighting it between his lips as he speaks, deep voice muffled from the object between his teeth. “yeah, i do.” he’s a mystery, not expanding on his job at all.
“you don’t look like you’ve been in the industry for a while.” you state kindly but bluntly, making the man chuckle under his breath, shaking his head.
he takes a hit of his cigarette, and then answers you. “fucks that supposed to mean? could argue the same about you, y’don’t even know how to fend off the paps,”
“..you have a point,” you shrug gently, turning your body more towards him as you ask, “what’s your name?”
“dallas winston.”
“dallas…” you repeat gently, looking him up and down as if trying to figure out if the name suits him. you decide it does. “well, mr. winston, i owe you for saving me. the paprazzi was vicious today, so thank you. i’m—“
he cuts you off, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he makes eye contact with you. he finishes your sentence by saying your name for you before you can introduce yourself.
“you know me?”
“jesus, everybody does, princess, y’not exactly underground.” he scoffs, amused. “and you’re right, by the way. you do owe me.” he adds, addressing your previous words with a cheeky smile. “maybe we can hit the studio sometime. i need a feature for my song, ‘n something tells me you’re gonna be a lot better than who i originally had in mind. how does that sound, sweetcheeks?”
you blink, but he can tell you’re into the idea. “you’re just using me for my fame.”
his eyebrows furrow. “huh? no, i’m fuckin’ not. using you for something else, jesus christ.”
the insinuation is clear as he glances at your chest, clad in some pink lowcut top you had thrown on. your cheeks feel warm by his boldness. he truly is an asshole, isn’t he? that’s probably what every other person in the city thinks — but you’re certain you can break through his horny, egotistical rapper persona. so you agree to a collaboration that ignites his whole career. anfd thank goodness you trusted your instincts, because this rebel of a man is the best thing that’s ever happened to you.
. ۫ ꣑ৎ taglist — @avroravia @r0seb100d @fawning4leif @diorgirl444 @liviqc @suncove @johnnycadesslut @kahkie @greasermoon @imausteja @atpeacee @dallysdolly444 (link in pinned post to be added)
I think he can be relatable to almost anyone, depending on one's perspective. I'll separate the way his character can be viewed by
his motivation
his character
his actions
And as a treat,
the consequences
HIS MOTIVATION
What does Joe want? Well, there are several answers to that. Since Joe is one-note, I've seen hundreds of interpretations, but let's go over three, plus an extra point related to his motivation, which I want to cover.
Miss Acacia's love
To keep Miss Acacia close
To have control
Don't misunderstand, there's definitely more to his motivation, but it isn't super relevant to how I feel about him.
First point- He wants Miss Acacia's love
(Direct translation from Theme de Joe)
"This girl is the little singer
She's been my girlfriend for a long time
Her name is Miss Acacia
And she sings in me every moment
Unfortunately, recently
She has returned to her country, Andalusia
And the new one who dares to talk to me about her
Is increasing my jealousy tenfold
The useless presence of this dwarf reinforces
The cruel absence of my love
He seems to love her almost as much as I do"
Second point- To keep Miss Acacia close.
This one’s short.
What I mean when I say “keep Miss Acacia close” I mean that Joe wanting to be with Miss Acacia, even if it isn’t in a romantic way. Jack didn’t explicitly state that he was going to romantically pursue Miss Acacia (unless giving someone unprescribed glasses is romantic?), but Joe still got defensive. Of course, we can brush this off as romantic jealousy, which even I want to, but for the sake of this possibility, let’s dive a tad deeper.
If Miss Acacia were to expand her friend group, that would push Joe further away. Not in the "replacement" sense, but because she'd have more people to socialise with outside of Joe.
Joe doesn't want that; he wants Miss Acacia to stay close, which is why he pushes others away from her, even if their intention isn't explicitly romantic.
It's safe to assume that Joe had to loosen his possessiveness because the amount of socialising with Miss Acacia would be limited.
If this is true, imagine how he felt in this scene.
Also, I'm not blaming Miss Acacia at ALL. Just wanted to clarify.
Third point- To have control
The most obvious answer is a desire for control over the students, but why?
Look at this line I've mentioned in the past, "I must admit I'm not impressed by change, it’s stability for me"
Why would change be stability? The only sensible way I can interpret this in a way that makes sense is that he is usually faced with change, which is why he doesn't seem too phased by Miss Acacia's absence (or because he already knew she would leave, but the only other explanation I came up with is just nonsense I pulled out of my ass).
Despite saying that he isn't impressed by change, he seems to have a firm adversity to Jack's admiration for Miss Acacia, while it seems he is used to people trying to pursue her, we only see him tormenting Jack throughout the years.
"I make sure the other kids respect me
There must be a few I simply scare" (Joe's Theme)
The reason why I point this out is because of Jack's persistance. Even after five years, he is still infatuated with a girl who could've gone through hundreds of changes. Joe saying that there are "a few [he] simply scare[s]" implies that those students stopped after he threatened them. Because Jack didn't stop, Joe might've been frazzled by this, and continued to torment him. In other words, he tried to bring everything back to the way it was before- him being the only one after Miss Acacia's heart.
Now, for the second answer as to why he wants control...
Despite having less to say about it, I actually like this theory better.
As stated in his reprise, he has tried to muzzle his attraction for Miss Acacia.
"Unable to accept my adventure had been terminated
Miss Acacia haunts my mind whatever I do, whatever I try"
These two lines are very important to me 0~0
I've mentioned this before in my BPD Joe post, but empty determination seems to be a consistent theme with his character.
At a certain point, this determination went down
Then she left
and that's when he finally accepted that they would be separated (for now).
Now, what does this have to do with wanting control?
He wants control over himself. He doesn't want to be infatuated with a girl who will never love him back, but it's always easier to indulge.
If you want more about this, check here
💬 1 🔁 2 ❤️ 9 · Re-up from tiktok
His motivations will be connected to his actions, so I'll just skip to the point I wanted to bring up.
His motivation is covered by his actions, which isn't the worst thing when it comes to determining whether he's a surface-level villain, but when it comes to an actual analysis of his character, it's a small cancer that should be extracted if we want to get anywhere.
Joe and Miss Acacia are friends, which is something people tend to forget. Miss Acacia doesn't hate Joe; she just doesn't love him back. Because of their situation and how their relationship dynamic shifts as they get older, this builds resentment.
To put it into perspective, imagine you and a friend pursue a romantic relationship, but you don't reciprocate the feelings. Instead of breaking up, you stay for whatever reason. Having to pretend or reciprocate your friend's feelings will start to be more irritating by the day, which will build resentment. You still value them, but you're slowly becoming sick of having to pillow their emotions at the expense of yours.
With that, let's move to his character.
Now, if you read my BPD Joe post, then you'd know how I view his character. If you haven’t, here’d a brief rundown.
I think Joe places his worth in Miss Acacia. Realistically, Miss Acacia wouldn’t forget about Joe just because she meets other people, but he doesn’t think that way. He views himself as insignificant and replaceable. If Miss Acacia doesn’t love him, then he cannot consider himself valuable.
I know it’s mostly just Joe being the one-note villain obsessed with the love interest, but I like to believe.
Joe is a truly pathetic character, but I don't think people realise what kind.
Imagine- you're friends with a girl for an undisclosed amount of time. Then, she leaves for a different country.
You're approached by an ugly little boy who says that he wants to give your friend a pair of unprescribed glasses, and you get defensive from the get-go.
In the time she's been away, she sends you birthday cards.
World's blandest birthday letters. Lucky you.
Quit smiling fucker. Also, is that the same letter model used post-timeskip? That's really fucking funny.
Five years pass, and you're still in contact with this girl while beating the ass of an unprescribed-glasses-wielding bum.
You drop your copy-and-paste letter after getting bumped into.
And the bum from before picks it up.
You demand he give it back, but because he's also an idiot, he believes that two people can't share a birthday. No wonder you two are in the same school five years later.
Then you play tug-of-war and end up destroying the letter. You attack the bum and lose an eye in the process.
Now, I feel I need to mention a few things.
A train from Edinburgh to Andalusia, ON AVERAGE, takes about 23 hours. That's with modern trains.
You, YES, YOU, slap an eyepatch on your face, because fuck recovery, and jump on a train while Mister Bum gets some help from the threesome guy, George Méliès himself.
You arrive with a bouquet of flowers. Your friend immediately cuts you off & gives you short answers.
At this point, you should just give up. If your long-distance friend of five years is being short with you, I'm afraid romance won't be a topic for the time being.
Still, you persist.
Then, so I'm not just reciting the second act, you fight the bum, you & your friend are in your caravan, on your way home.
Then she remembers something and runs away.
You fail to chase her & are left alone, staring off, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this girl who can't care about you the way you wish will come back.
That, in itself, is pretty pathetic.
Now, imagine you do get married to her.
Then she leaves you. Not for the other man, she just leaves you.
For eight years, you have based your worth on this woman. You hurt others for this woman. You protected her from no one; you even harmed yourself for her. Everything you did pushed her away. You wanted her close, and your actions pushed her away.
It didn't matter, anyway; she could never love you.
So, now that I've set it up in that way, do you understand what I mean when I say that Joe is pathetic?
Anyway, let's move on to his actions.
(Also, side note, why did Joe start driving Miss Acacia back to Scotland? I thought Joe was anticipating a performance from Miss Acacia. Why would he want to go to Edinburgh? For a doctor's appointment? I literally have no idea what half of his motives are, and it pisses me off, like, THIS is my favourite character???)
Joe is an abuser and a manipulator, no matter his intentions. Is there a chance for redemption? Sure, whatever, I don't care what a 25 year old person did when they were sixteen.
Alrighty, now...
Here's your treat!!! The consequences!!!
Mentally, Joe will stand there on the side of the road until he rots away. By the time Miss Acacia will finish mourning (she won't), Joe will no longer be himself.
Joe is very self-destructive, but not in the self-harm way. He knows how Miss Acacia is, that's why he didn't lie to her, he just excluded details. Because he knew what would work. Even if it wasn't a conscious action, he did it.
Joe was the abuser and the victim, the weapon he used was Miss Acacia. She was the knife that cut him as she ran off, but it was Joe who held the blade. When she left, we saw the smallest, tiniest bit of humanity from Joe.
When Miss Acacia divorced Joe, we didn't see or hear of him because he was nothing. He's one-note because he only exists for one reason. As long as Miss Acacia tolerates him, he has a reason to live.
Joe is truly the most pathetic, poorly written character from the most unlikeable movie and book. I want another book where it's just Joe. Joe getting worse, Joe getting better, Joe gaining hope and replacing lost hope with empty determination. Even if we did get that book, it'd be about Miss Acacia.
Now, let's circle to the very, very beginning of this post.
Don't worry, you don't have to scroll back up.
I think he can be relatable to almost anyone, depending on one's perspective.
I'll water down his character-
Empty determination.
You love someone who could never love you back.
You utilise coping mechanisms that'll only make you worse.
You try to impress your peers, but you'll always be mediocre.
You continue to make art, when no one actually cares about the process and time and care you put into that piece.
You continue to work, but you'll never be able to afford what you need.
Why continue?
Because you want to chase. You want to grind your bones into a dust for the superiours that took the short route to snort.
Even if you're the only one fighting in the battle, you'll never win.
But you'll fight anyway.
"You'll never make the place, but do you even run the race?
I can't be what you need, I am stuck in a dream."
"Every day, I'll promises that plague Sarah's heart."
To quote his voice actor, Grand Corp Malade-
"We hear the story from Jack, but if Joe told the story, then Jack would be the bad guy. He is a very endearing villain, very human."
Take that as you will. If you do understand what I mean when I say that Joe can be relatable, I want you to remember one thing. You are more than your favourite person.
Just a self projecting exploration of Billy dealing with his father's abuse
TW: Abuse, self harm, drug and alcohol use, just general dark shit
-
Ever since Billy could remember he was in a constant battle with himself over how he felt about his father. Whether he should love and care about him in some form or completely cast him aside without a hint of regret or hesitation. He wasn't always the way he ended up.
Found memories filled with laughter tainted by what came after. Pictures of them smiling, his arms wrapped tightly around his father's neck as they said cheese with no hidden sense of fear or anger to be seen. Yet, years later he would watch him hurt and manipulate his mother, helpless to stop it. Those photos hanging on the wall watching along with him.
It wasn't until his mother left, ran as he would have if he could and never came back. Leaving him to deal with what she escaped. Except, what people don't seem to understand about abuse is that when you're living through it you rationalise it, alter it in your mind to sooth the pain of the experience until finally you convince yourself it isn't so bad. That even though he feared his father, felt uncomfortable and unsure of his every action he could have it worse.
That no matter how often he found himself watching his door late at night, that he watched his own father drink himself to sleep most nights, or that he knew what he said was true someone else had it worse and thinking about how bad it was made it real. Accepting it would be too much to take when facing it every day at such a young age.
No one knew. The isolation of it becoming a vessel for anger, spite and resentment towards his new step sister who did as she pleased without even a glance from the same man who would punish him for less. An anger which only grew and festered until he turned it onto her even though he knew it was wrong, that she didn't deserve it just as he didn't but there she was. His words and actions making it worse, the loneliness too much to handle so he just tried to forget about it. Pretend it wasn't happening until he blacked most of it out.
It wasn't until he was 17 and sitting in a room of a cabin that didn't belong to him or his father's that it truly hit him how bad it had all been. Everyone around him knowing why he now lived with Jim Hopper but they didn't know what had happened. Two years after he found himself in tears, his eyes focusing on his hands to avoid the reaction of the man who had taken him in. Everything flooding out as he broke down processing it as he went, some details still fogged as if he couldn't access them just yet but they came eventually.
The weight, the impact of the abuse finally crashing down on top of him but as he told someone for the first time it slowly began to slide its way off his shoulders. The reality of it once too much to bare, now something he could understand and realise he didn't deserve. His relationship with his sister tainted but fixable, so many more apologies to give but they would get there and they did. It just took some time.
The conflict of how to feel, the battle being won and for five years he didn't hear about his father or see him. Fear of running into him in such a small town a realistic one but he never did until one day he came home to find Max sitting with the man he now called his father and they turned to smile at him before she got up to leave. Giving him a hug and a promise to see him soon before making her exit to return home to her mother who now lived somewhere safe away from Neil.
He could tell something was wrong, that whatever they had been discussing was relevant to him so he asked what it was. Hopper sat him down and what he told him only resulted in a new army gathering troops to try and overthrow the hatred he felt towards his father, something that had taken him years to fully accept and process now sliced open like a fresh wound.
As it turned out, his father now took various drugs after quitting drinking. He lived with a younger women who excused his actions, the ones that resulted in Billy's panic attacks or triggers to drunk adult men coming close to him when he was sober himself. The ones that messed with his perception of himself for longer than it didn't. He now borrowed money off people who found it easier to hand over the cash than deal with him, using it to send himself into and early grave but what truly made Billy's throat dry up was that he now hurt himself.
Various times he would slice himself in public to get a reaction, a desperate attempt for sympathy from people who were past that point. Putting himself in harms way to make his girlfriend cry for him to stop. Voices in his head combined with daily seizures. All of this spiking a sense of guilt in Billy, the thought that he was to blame for how his life went being too much to handle so he stood up and went into his room.
Except, as he sat there looking at the photos of his new life, his life away from him he realised he didn't deserve his sympathy. Billy had nothing to feel guilty about because he didn't cause this, his father did this to himself and no amount of self-pity would bring him to care about his father anymore. He could drop dead for all he cared and with that brought a sense of euphoria because he had won.
Sure, he now looked back on moments he once thought of as happy with a sense of pain but that was in the past and his life was much more worthy of living than dwelling in the past with a man who he wouldn't let ruin it anymore than he already had.
A continuation of the rant from yesterday!! (limited “very sleep deprived and very angry edition” get ready)
So, my “half-year-project” has been denied. As did many others.
The talk was supposed to take place over the span of half an hour for everyone after school on Friday / today. There would be four teacher to each talk to one student at the time.
But, after we were all waiting for a little while we were informed that 5 teachers would talk to one student after another. Making the time total almost one and a half hours, they went through us alphabetically so I was the last one to go.
A lot of us had appointments to attend which they subsequently missed (I didn’t luckily.)
So back to the main subject. My project, which I have already begun working on, have a completed perfect time plan for, have spent around 80 euro on and got it approved by the teacher who now denied it earlier.
Of course I was prepared for that, I prepare for everything. I had a list of other projects, including plans for them, which I would be willing to do, since I was really looking forward to do this and I had many ideas.
But they did not even take a fucking second to listen to any of them. They had said they would give us a whole damn week to come up with a new idea or work out one in cooperation with them, and now we literally just get a random af subject chosen for us.
Well what is my project going to be now? Madame Curie.
Now, no offence, she was a great physicist and feminist and really important and what not, but how in the hell did they come to the conclusion that this would interest me???
My previous subject was about psychology (including English.) And what do they make from that? Oh let’s make her write about a french physicist.
The reason for choosing this subject for me was just: “You are good at languages.”
Yes, I am, but it isn’t even about language itself, which I would have liked. How fucking hard would it be to make me do the exact same thing with a fucking psychologist instead???? I’d happily do something about a famous psychologist, It can be a woman for all I care, if they need to force feminism down my throat, so fucking be it but why something like this?
There were people who can do fireworks or cats. They have no fucking clue how to do that, and I know exactly what I need to do when and how to make a fucking excellent project and I am willing to give my fucking life to this project and what do they do??? They spit in my fucking face and don’t consider my interests in the slightest.
The reason they gave for rejecting my project was this: “It’s on college level.” (verbatim: “Das ist studien niveau”)
What kind of a sorry ass excuse is that even supposed to be?? When you consider the initial boundaries set for our projects were literally: “If it doesn’t require you to break the law, it’s ok.”
I mean I am fucking sorry if my interests are not as bland and simple as yours but I require mental stimulation and this is my passion and I am more than fucking capable of doing this (which they didn’t say they doubted...).
Some of the other subjects that were denied were Steven Hawking, Costume Making (mind you we literally have that as a class at our school, sewing that is.) and something by Dante (I don’t remember right now) there’s more though.
You know what the girl (one of my best friends) who wanted to do the sewing has to do now? Coco Chanel. She doesn’t know who that is (lol sry) and is generally not interested in makeup or perfumes, she is even supposed to make a perfume.
She is just as furious as I am, and I really don’t get them, we are all a little angry anyway because of how things turned out.
I was literally crying for two hours until I fell asleep (for like half an hour), and from then on I’m just on and off crying. I know I’m a fucking pussy, but I can’t just go around destroying things, and letting out my immense fucking anger is required in some way or another...
Btw. I have’t been sleeping a lot recently, but for no particular reason I think, and today at night, as I was crossing the road and looking into the direction of an oncoming car with it’s bright headlights on, I thought I saw a huge ass stag. Now mind you I live in the city and we don’t have wild stags anywhere around, also when I looked back at it again it wasn’t there. So that is not a good sign.
I am planning on writing a very well thought out passive aggressive e-mail or something to my teacher. I have to talk to him next week anyway, but It is hard to make a concise point while talking to an authority figure with opposing view points. Who is like more a foot and half or so, taller than you.
PS: I’ll be doing my project which I wanted to do initially on the side, you know, out of spite. I’ll meet the deadline of the real project with both my projects and give those fuckers a cope of my book. Maybe even with a passive aggressive note written in it for that one teacher.
(Thing is, I really like all my teachers, making this all even worse. They were always nice and cooperative and so on but yeah. Fucking backstabbers.)
