#im gonna chew off my own leg

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

watching good man goes to war and the balls they dropped having 13 grapple with gender feels like an actual physical injury right about now

[jackals-ships]

also my moirail is lovingly shaking me bc i keep doing that back and forth "but what if I Don't tell him about [List Of What Feels Pretty Obvs Long Covid Symptoms] bc. im just playing it up. for attention." and he's just "you are so stupid (loving)"

[littl-vs]

nyways- chewwing and knawing at your leg

[sturnioz]

Hear me out. HEAR ME OUT.

A blurb where fratboy!chris is fucking shy!reader rough, but she stops him and asks him to take it slow and gentle tonight? She’s not mad at all but she’s just more in the mood for slow and sensual? And maybe chris isn’t used to that but he’s willing to try for her…?

I’m telling my kids this was Romeo and Juliet.

pathetic mewls seep past your lips, eyebrows knitted together in pleasure as you stare up at chris through blurry vision as he pants, having you pinned beneath him, knees pressed to your chest as he pounds into your puffy cunt.

his grip is tight on the backs of your knees, too tight that it makes you wince a little — but all your pain and worries float away when he presses down on that bulge in your tummy, making you moan in pleasure.

sweat trickles down his brow as he thrusts into you, his grunts muffled behind bitten lips, watching as his cock slides in and out of you repeatedly at a pace that has his balls tightening, ready to spill into you.

"w-wait," you choke out between ragged breaths, your voice straining as trembling hands touch his shoulders. "slow.. slow down."

chris doesn't slow his movements, but he stares down at you, his chest heaving as confusion flickers across his face. "what? why?"

"just... jus' wanna go slower," you whisper softly, chewing on your bottom lip as you gaze up at him. "please?"

you love getting fucked like this — of course you do — but tonight, you're in the mood for something slower, more gentle and caring.

with the way chris is looking down at you, his hips coming to an abrupt stop, you're slowly starting to regret asking him to change the pace, and a whine fleets past your lips as you hear the heavy huff come from him as he pulls out of you with a wet pop.

chris furrows his brows, completely baffled and struggling to understand the sudden change when just moments ago, you were practically melting beneath him, making sweet sounds as he pounds into you. but now you wanted something slower?

chris has half the mind to scoff and flip you over, spank your ass and fuck you until you see stars — but he clicks his tongue against his teeth, grumbling under his breath as he pulls your knees from your chest, parting your legs for him to fit comfortably in-between instead.

"a'ight, whatever." he relents, bracing himself above you.

you can't help but smile, staring up at him through your wispy lashes, your face contorting as you feel him slowly ease back into your wet warmth, your arms curling around his shoulders.

you can feel him move slowly within you, his cock rubbing against your walls, and you let out a soft cooing sound in delight, your legs wrapping around his hips.

he doesn't look at you each time he pushes into you, not that you really expected him to, especially with something so seemingly intimate, but you wanted to make him more comfortable, more into it.

"ah.. its so good, feels good," you whisper your praise to him, fingers curling around the hair at the nape of his neck, your eyes fluttering shut as you savour the feeling of being filled by him.

"yeah," chris replies through gritted teeth, his own fingers gripping the pillows behind your head, feeling how you squeeze so tightly around him. "don't... don't get it into y'head that im gonna be doin' this all the time, kid... s'not—" he cuts himself off with a hiss as he slowly rolls his hips against yours, his cock sliding deeper. "...not happenin'."

[sacharinee]

pairing: bestfriend!peter parker x fem!reader

sypnosis: after peter misses his chance to ask you out to the homecoming dance, he has to suffer the consequences of his own actions

wc: 1200+

a/n: hiii!! i have the urge to write again bc im bored and i dont wanna do my summer course work. this prompt is based on this post and loosely based on that one scene in the movie ladybird when she gets picked up by her date. i wrote this super quickly so not the best but i hope u enjoy :)

peter had it first. he had the idea, the flowers, the poster, your favorite chocolate strawberries all ready for you. until brad davis came in and stole everything. 

now he has nothing. he’s on your bed munching on the melty strawberries as he watches you get ready for the dance; you’ve asked for his help in choosing which dress you should go for. 

“okay how ‘bout this one, pete?” the boy glances up at you, mid-chew with his mouth open. 

his eyes snake over the outfit you’ve chosen. you do a swift twirl to show off the pretty soft blue satin dress that falls down to your mid-thigh with an open back. the skirt of your dress rides a bit high revealing a little too much. peter gulps, running his hands down his legs, immediately your sweet honey perfume floods his senses, his brain feels a little fuzzy, and he thinks the room gets smaller while his pants get a tiny bit tighter.

however, your eyes are what he takes in the most. you look eager, nervous about his approval, and hopeful for his admission.

his eyes widen as he gives you a soft nod and a pursed smile, “super pretty.”

you stare back at peter, his hair is flared, and you see chocolate smeared on his bottom lip. his posture looks defeated and you can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with him.

you give him a sour yet confused face, “why is your face like that?”

peter’s eyebrows furrow at your expression, “my face- why is my face like what?” 

“like…” you take a moment to think, “like- you look like that chef in that one movie with the rat, he’s got that same awkward funny looking face.”

peter barks out a laugh in disbelief, “alfredo linguini?? from ratatouille?!” “yea! that guy.” 

the boy in front of you offers you a pout and rubs his eyes, “thanks.”

“sure thing.” peter glazes over your seamless makeup when you take a seat next to him, “so, you’re really not coming? why not? it’ll be fun, plus all of our friends are going” you whine. 

peter kicks himself every day since you got asked out to homecoming by brad. he knows he should have made his proposal to you sooner, but now that he missed his chance, he feels like he’s lost you. 

“oh, so brad’s our friend now? and nah, it’s alright. i’m just gonna go patrolling tonight, might get some good action.” his eyebrows suggestively 

 you muster up a smirk and breathe out a laugh, “right. maybe you’ll find your own ‘cupid of crime’ that’ll show you a good time.” 

peter groans at you, “oh my god, margot robbie is so-”

honk!

“oh,” your ears perk up at the sudden interruption, “i guess that’s my date.” you quickly stand up and straighten your dress, taking nervous breaths. 

“i’m good right? my dress? face? hair?” your fingers run through your shiny locks, “its- i’m, i’m okay?”

peter has an indiscernible look plastered on his face as he gazes out the window and back at you. he’s shocked you’d settle for this, and even more appalled at you’re excitement to go with a douchebag who can’t even meet you at the front door. he knows you deserve better than this, and he knows he would treat you so much better with much less than your date. his stomach turns upside down and he feels his face get hot, breathing through his nostrils as he struggles to control his disbelief. he slowly stands up and meets your anxious expression peering up at him.

“you aren’t gonna get in a car with a guy who honks, are you?” 

it’s almost as if the entire atmosphere shifts. peter studies your appearance. your face shimmered sanguinely regardless, brighter than the glitter that sparkled atop your eyelids.

it was safe to say you were excited to go to the dance, even if your date wasn’t your first choice. you had been waiting endlessly for peter to ask you to homecoming. you were almost depressed at the thought thinking your crush didn’t like you back, but even more upset at the fact that your best friend didn’t even want to take you as his date, romantically or not. 

you remembered the feeling of delight swirling through your body as betty gushed about ned asking her to the dance, and mj agreeing to harry’s proposal. 

you only wanted the same for yourself. the same thrill and warm feeling of someone wanting to take you as their date. you wanted more than anything for it to be peter, but you figured he simply didn’t think of you like that as empty time and hopeless anticipation went by. so yes, you did settle for brad davis. he’s only ever been sweet to you, with harmless flirting and sultry smiles in the halls. plus you had a hunch about peter’s displeasing stance on the man, and presumed this may have tipped peter over just the right amount. 

you simply blink at his desperate eyes and nod, your adamant expression not wavering, “i think, yes, i am.”

you offer him a wistful smile when you brush past him, grabbing your purse on the way.

“y/n, stop.” peter’s finger’s wrap around your small wrist, your charm bracelet dangling against his hand.

“are you serious? what, the shithead can’t walk a few feet and knock on the door like a real man?”

“peter!” you snatch your wrist back and his hands rise.

you feel heat rushing up your neck and settling behind your ears. you had wanted a reaction out of peter when brad asked you out, yes, but the entitlement he has to mention about the manhood of brad angered you.

“i’m just saying,” he steps back from you, licking his dry lips while he chuckles back at you. “a guy who doesn’t have the balls to greet you at your doorstep isn’t worth falling for.” 

you scoff at him, he was so sweet and now he’s only taking his anger out on you. “well it’s a good thing that he’s just a friend then. what’s it to you anyways?”

peter disregards your last statement, “a friend?! y/n/n, listen to me. you’re being naive if you think he just wants to be your friend.”

another honk outside pierces your ears, yet you can’t seem to shake your stare on the boy before you. you narrow your eyes at him.

“you sound jealous.”

peter sputters nonsense out and breaks his eyesight away from you, nervously running his hands through his curls.

“jealous? me? pfft. never. i’m not jealous, i’m- i’m being absolutely reasonable.”

you keep your eyes on him as he looks down at the carpet floor. he sighs and drops down at your chair, scratching the wood on your desk. his head shakes and ever so softly murmurs, “seriously, why are you going out with him?”

peter continues to stare at the rotten wood he’s chipping, “brad asked me to be his date, so i’m going whether you like it or not. unless,” peter glances back up at you.

“there’s something you’re not telling me.”

hope bubbles down in your stomach, and you anticipate his confession, waiting to hear the words of his true feelings that you know for certain are deep down inside him.

except, he doesn’t.

the boy only blankly stares at your desk, clenching his jaw, and drowns everything inside, letting you down yet another time. you turn away, disappointed in peter, ready to leave him alone for all the false hope and hurt he has caused you. 

“right, well, when your balls finally drop, let me know. i’ll be at the dance with my date.” 

[un-lawliet]

“Fit For an Archon”

— in which the Hydro Archon is fascinated by you

a/n- happy pride month to all my wlw, i wrote this for us <3 im sorry for how long it is (gasp)

word count (7.1k)

You are the worst seamstress in Fontaine.

You’re sure of it.

Your hands seem to repel fabric, your needle poisoning the thread in which you clumsily stitch with and leaving you with a truly horrendous looking frock.

Chiori, bless her soul, had hired you as a a request from your Father, who, in Chiori’s defence, was a fantastic tailor, renowned for his intricate stitching and detailed attires- Truly a renaissance for Fontaine fashion.

And so when he left Chioris business, set to start his own amiss the bustling harbours of Liyue, you found yourself tucked away, working in his place for Chiori, who was currently frowning pensivly down at your work, as if it had personally offended her.

“…It’s bad isn’t it?” You state, looking intensely at your boss who chewed on her painted bottom lip, head cocked, wondering how in Tevat you were your Fathers daughter.

“It’s not…Awful” She tries, although not very well, her gaze fixed on the uneven stitching and the deplorable match of colour.

“Better than last time?” You question, a terrible sense of hope clouding your voice, hopeful that maybe, just maybe you were improving-

“No, no, definitely worse.” Chiori mutters, and your face falls.

She sticks a hand out and touches the skirt you had presented her with, lifting it up.

The seams fall and the skirt halves in her grasp, and you cringe silently, eyes closing in embarrassment.

“Hm.” She ponders, turning to stare at you from over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s…Meant to do that?” You try, shoulders raising in contention, only to be silenced again at the shake of her head.

“Take a break Y/N.” Chiori says, tired under attempts to support your terrible creations.

You don’t argue with her, immediately fleeing the boutique as if you were being hunted down by the God King Remus himself.

The bell on the door dings as you exit, waving goodbye to your co-workers who scoff at your exit, whispering words under their breath that you chose not to render.

You just needed to stick this job out until you had enough income to quit.

But- with the state of your designs and the even worse execution of said designs, you doubt you’d ever make enough to follow through with your intentions.

And really…You barely make ends meet as it is.

Oh God.

You kick a stone and watch as it skims across the tarmac, bouncing up and down until skidding to a stop metres before you.

You hate being a seamstress.

Making it to the manufactured river, you slump down, lazily throwing your legs off of the sides, your boots delicately touching the water surface below.

The same way they always did when Chiori sends you away.

How ridiculously boring.

Fontaine’s a-lot quieter in the evening, most people finding themselves at the Opera Epiclese to watch a spectacle, faces tinged red with excitement.

You prefer it when it’s quiet, when the streets are empty. It means you can lie backwards on the hard ground without too much judgement from your fellow citizens.

Your legs still bent down towards the water, with your back on the concrete dock, you allow yourself a breath.

You hear footsteps somewhere off to your right but pay them no mind. After all, passing judgement is only ever passing, and you’re sure whoever it is will waltz past you, giving you a confused once over before immediately forgetting your face.

You stretch one of your legs and break the surface of the river, feeling the tip of your boot soak up the water briefly, before you’re lifting it back out, shaking it gently to dry it off.

Someone cleared their throat behind you and you sign with the frustration of interrupted serenity.

Can you truly not have anything?

Pushing yourself up with your elbows, you turn your face the perpetrator, eyebrows drawn down to a frown.

You were gonna stare them out until they left you to mope at this stupid river, politeness be dammed!

.

.

.

It’s Focalors behind you.

Lady Furina.

Every retort resting on your tongue is swallowed up, getting stuck in the back of your throat and you choke on your words, chest heaving in shock.

The Hydro Archon stares down at you, watching your struggle, her arms crossed over her chest and a smug smile on her lips.

Her hair sways in the breeze, tickling her leg and she seems to be quite fascinated in the dress encasing your figure.

A long ruffly mess of colour and mesh with a corset that one would barely call fitting, you look like a run away mannequin, pathetically thrown together before your God.

“Lady Furina.” You wheeze, propelling yourself to your feet, dropping into a bow, your skirt following comically behind.

Why is she here? Is she not fond of the Opera house? Archons people wait half their lives to meet her and here you are face to face with God through pure circumstance.

She waves a gloved hand in your direction, dismissing your bow entirely, eyes still drawn to the fabric of your gown.

“Your..attire is quite interesting.” She states bluntly, walking two steps to the left to capture your dress from all angles.

Your face flushes, “Thank you Lady Furina, it’s an honour to be complimented by-”

“Were you supposed to be in the opera?” She cuts you off, turning her body in the general direction of the Epiclese.

“What?” You answer before finding your manners, “I mean n-no it’s my….” You sigh, shoulders slumping, “I’m a seamstress.”

Lady Furina pauses, her head lifting you look at your face, studying it with such precision that you feel yourself bite back the desire to look away.

“..A seamstress?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Oh.”

The pair of you look at each other for a moment before she throws her head back and laughs. It echoes around the empty streets of Fontaine and reverberates right into your ears.

“I suspected as much!” She guffaws, clapping her hands together.

You cock your head, confused, “No you didn’t?” You reply, unable to stop the offence in your voice.

Sure you weren’t good at your job but you liked this dress! And you were definitely not apart of any play!

Lady Furina’s laugh trails off and she stares at you, her lip between her teeth, holding back a grin.

“Tell me!” She begins again, and you shudder at the volume of her voice. “Why is it that you look so sad?”

“Huh?” You question, eyes widening in confusion.

Furina smiles, it brightens her face, before pointing at you then back to herself, “As your Archon it is my duty to right the wrongs of Fontaine, and you appeared so gloomy that I had no choice but to journey off my path to check up on you!”

Shame forces its way through your body and you shake your head, holding out your sweaty palms to face her, “Lady Furina you do not need to trouble yourself with my issues, trust me.” And you shiver against her unblinking gaze, “Please, continue on your way..” You awkwardly laugh, gesturing to the street, dying inside.

Furina blinks at you, “You don’t want to share problems for me?”

You take a step back, bashfully shaking your head, “I mean no offence…”

It’s awkward.

Furina tilts her head, studying you, confused.

She is far too use to Fontainians requesting her opinions on trivial matters so much so that the blatant avoidance from you is baffling.

You scratch the back of your hand in the silence.

Lady Furina watches you, dissecting you with her eyes, trying to go over every woe that past Fontainians had brought to her omnipresent ears.

You chuckle, trying to force her gaze off of you before you melt and join the water behind you.

“You’re not watching the play?” You say, gesturing in the general direction of the Epiclese, pleading silently for her to stop looking at you like that.

She shakes her head, closing her eyes, “I’ve seen it before, it gets quite tiresome seeing the same thing over and over again.”

Oh

“Oh”

Lady Furina grins, her opposing eyes still gracing your face as if you were so easy to figure out.

“Do you…Hate your job?”

You gawk at her.

She smirks.

Jack pot.

“I’m right aren’t I? You can save your praise, I know I’m truly otherworldly when it comes to intuition.” She fans her hand up and down at you, throwing her pretty head back dramatically.

“Must be a gift from Celestia then.” You conclude, turning away from her and sitting back down at your river side.

You’re slightly peeved at her reaction and would rather not disrespect an Archon so early in your life, so you do not face her with your glare.

“Come now.” Lady Furina says, strolling over to you, “I only joke.”

The Hydro Archon was now sitting beside you, kicking her feet in the water.

This truly cannot be real.

You sigh.

Well, if she’s asking, you may as well answer.

What’s another sinner to an Archon anyway.

“Do you ever feel trapped by the wishes of another?” You ask, defeat clouding your senses as you speak.

Lady Furina stills, but you do not notice.

“My Father, asked me to keep on his legacy in Fontaine, he’s a brilliant tailor, I mean, it’s like he was born to be one…”

You trail off, and splash your foot into the water, “And I just- I’m terrible at being a seamstress, I can’t even pretend to enjoy it because I am so utterly rubbish at it.”

She’s watching you, you can feel it. It’s as intense as your emotions, you almost shy away.

“Sorry.” You mutter, “I don’t know why I’m asking. It’s not like you have to struggle with these “mortal issues.”

You laugh bitterly in the silence of your confession.

Lady Furina’s hand slightly brushes yours and you wonder if she notices.

The pair of you sit quietly for a moment, your face growing warmer in the seconds.

You’re about to apologise again, your words on the tip of your tongue before she speaks, ripping the pages from your mouth.

“I always find it fascinating to hear how Mortals think.”

“Hm?”

“How they can voice their feelings so freely, it has always struck me.” Her voice is a lot quieter, you almost mistake her for someone else.

You glance, taking in the side of Lady Furina’s face, her soft features seem burdened, you hope silently that you were not the cause of her worries.

“An Archon admiring her subjects…” You say, slicing through the quiet, “That’s quite comforting actually.”

Lady Furina tilts her head, narrowing her dainty eyebrows quizzingly, “Pardon?”

You smile, and hope it reaches both your eyes and hers. “You care. It’s kind.”

She’s watching you again, her chest rising and falling in tandem to the gentle swish of the water.

You place an arm on your knee and rest you head in your palm, feeling bold.

“It must be lonely being a God.”

And her eyes grow wide, for a split second, before she’s blinking and resuming her facade of impassive control.

“What ever do you mean?”

“There’s no higher being to think about you.” You reply, introspection fluctuating in your words before it slaps you back into reality with a cold hand.

“Uh- Pardon me, I don’t mean to call you lonely I just-”

“It’s quite alright.” Lady Furina says, straightening up, her hair brushing your shoulder and her hand moving from yours. “You did not mean any harm.”

She moves to stand, and you watch, perplexed.

“You have the freedom to quit.” She says simply, “There is no higher deity forcing you to stay.” And she smiles, “All will be ok.”

She leaves as fast as she had arrived and you’re left alone to think.

Strange you think.

You hope you didn’t offend her.

—

When it’s not raining, the sun has a habit of overstaying her welcome.

It’s absolutely roasting in Fontaine, and so when Chiori asked if you would stay behind to finish your garment after work hours, you jumped at the opportunity to relish in the cool breeze of the back rooms.

Besides, you feel less embarrassed working by yourself, with nobody around to mock your gowns.

You flinch as you pierce the skin of your finger, watching as a maroon red slides into your palm.

You wipe it on your dress, it clashes with the colour.

“Do you always make a habit of wearing the most..peculiar garments?”

You jump, dropping your needle onto the sickly pink fabric, you wince as it falls, sure to be lost forever.

“L-Lady Furina?” You gasp, turning your body towards her, your dress swishing in your movement as you try pathetically bow your head in her exuberant presence.

“Yes “tis I.” She replies, her arms opening dramatically but her eyes stay focused on your choice of apparel. “Honestly.” She muses, “It’s no wonder they keep you back here…”

Lady Furina glances around your cluttered work room, taking in the flurry of vibrant coloured ribbons dripping out from their boxes, half finished corsets falling apart at their seams and the tatttered fabric unevenly pinned to a mannequin standing just inches away from her.

You step in-front of her, your eyes wide as you try conceal her vision of your failures, a sheepish grimace on your face.

“Um, we’re closed today, it’s only me in- uh how did you get inside-”

“I am the hydro archon.” Furina’s voice booms out, the exaggerated drawl making you cower away from her slightly, “I merely walked in.”

“I thought I had locked the door?” You questioned, taking a step back from her.

“A locked door is no enemy of mine!” She laughs, regarding you with a look oozing with pride, her chest puffed out and head raised.

“Right..” You mumble, picking at the skin on your fingers, nervously swaying back and fourth.

Your fingers are adorned with pricks from your needle, they would bleed should you continue your childish picking, yet you persist, unable to stop your absentminded jittering.

Lady Furina watches your movement, satisfaction appearing to glow in her eyes.

“Now!” She exclaims, wondering over to the only empty surface in the room, an old blue chair, faded with age.

“I need a new ribbon for my hat.” The chair creaks when Furina sits, crossing her legs and staring at you expectantly.

You think the chair isn’t even worthy enough for you to sit on, let alone the God Of Justice.

“I can..Write an order down for a ribbon for when Chiori returns?” Your voice trails off, thwarted by the dull look she regards you with at your suggestion.

“No, no, no!” Furina shakes her head, her actions reminding you of a child, “I want you to make it!”

“I beg you pardon?” Your eyes widen, and you glance around, taking in all your terrible, terrible works of fashion.

“Me?” You breathe, “Lady Furina, if I may- I clearly lack the talent to create anything, let alone something in which an archon should wear.” You hands shake slightly as she stares at you, willing yourself not to blink or look away in her ever present intensity. “You know this.”

“But I demanded it?” She cocks her head, reaching up to take her hat off, outstretching her arms to look at it intently.

Her hair falls down, it cascades down her shoulders like water and you hold yourself back from counting the waves between each strand, instead choosing to look away.

Ribbons are simple, you remind yourself.

You’re not entirely deficient in the art of fashion, you’re just…Well- you’re just you.

“So?” Furina says, her voices drags you from the inner monologue whispering in your ear, she pushes the hat in your direction, twirling it so you can view its simplicity from every angle.

Your clasp your hands together, head tilted like a dog.

“I’m thinking.. here.” Her finger rests on in the space between the crown and the brim, “A blue ribbon thats doesn’t blend in with the rest of the hat but adversely will not stand out…”

You nod, it’s curt, Furina smiles, it stretches her face and she all but glows, cheeks flushed.

“You’ll do it then?”

You scratch your arm, and sigh.

“It will look horrid.”

“It will look like it was made by you.” She replies, sweetly, her voice like the silk in which she adorned, you take a second to truly feel the implications behind her words and suddenly feel yourself become quite bashful.

Your heart ticks within your chest and like clockwork you reach your hands out for her hat, avoiding her gaze.

“A blue that doesn’t blend in but also doesn’t stand out?” Your voice is whispered, trying to act assertive but failing all the same.

“Indeed, a ribbon fit for an archon!” Furina appears to get louder the more she reminds you of her status, you cringe at her volume but turn so she does not see.

“I’ll try my best.” You hum, glancing at the box you pathetically labelled “Ribbons”.

You reach out and touch the cardboard confines, pulling it towards you and shuffling some fabric under your finger tips.

Red, yellow, green…the most hideous shade of pink ever- Dear God did you supply this?

Furina sits, twirling a strand of her hair as she watches you, taking in the chaos of your dress and your work space respectfully.

You really had such a unique flare to you.

Your dress was terribly put together, fabric seemingly falling off the skirt, which, in Furina’s opinion, was much too puffy for an average day at work.

When she leaned closer, she could see how the seams were pathetically stitched together, a bundled mess of experimentation that clearly did not work, the sheer fact she could see the stitching was enough of a sign to tell her that you had made this dress yourself.

Furina raises a hand to cover her the genuine smile that ripped across her features.

You truly were fascinating to observe.

“You chose to stay here then?”

You look back at her, a small frown on your face.

“Yea.” You say simply, “It’s just easier.”

She scoffs.

“What?” You reply, indignantly, “I’m still getting paid.”

“You’re staying for the money?”

“I’m staying to save up the money.” You retort, “As soon as I have enough I am gone, you’ll see.”

Furina laughs, you can help but feel melodic, almost sad.

You don’t know what else to do, so you smile, watching as Furina breaks eye contact immediately, coughing into her glove.

“I hope I do.” You hear her say, and you try to ignore the giddy sensation that seems to course through your veins and into your heart.

—

“Lady Furina what an i-interesting bow.”

“I know, I know! Isn’t it just fabulous.”

“It’s um rather…big?”

“Yes? Is there a problem?”

“N-no! I was merely voicing that-”

“If there is no issue then I must bid you farewell. I have a meeting with a most important diplomat, I assume you have already placed the pastries?”

“Yes Lady Furina…”

“Good.”

—

On days when you aren’t in the boutique, you write to your Father.

You write pages upon pages of frustrated scribbles, voicing your resentment of his craft and the comparison to your own, writing furiously about how much you wish to be freed from your job and allowed to travel with him to nations far and wide.

In the end you send none of it, opting instead to write false truths about how honoured you are to work in the darkest parts of his shadow, and how gracious you are for his talents.

You lick the envelope seal and pop it thru the post office window, smiling softly at the old lady behind the glass.

It’s raining in Fontaine today, dark clouds pulsing in the sky, above you, soaking the fabric of your skirt.

It always seems to rain after a trial.

You shake your head. Damn, you should have brought an umbrella.

When you pass by a group of children you hear their yells, pitiful pleads of; “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon don’t cry!”

And you smile and whisper it under your breath as you look to the sky.

Your thoughts circle back to Furina, you hadn’t seen her as much, especially not with the growing fears of the flood of Fontaine.

You wonder if it’s true, wonder how she’ll solve it.

You have faith in her, you think.

There’s no way you’ll drown before you can leave to travel.

There’s no way Fontaine’s Archon would let you all perish under the power of Hydro when she herself is the embodiment of the element.

You have faith.

—

There’s nothing you truly dread more than presentations to the Archon and her people.

And there’s nothing you hate more than how Champvallon, who was standing in for Chiori due to her endeavours in Inazuma, was currently mumbling under his breath at your choice of dress.

You had been running late, quite literally, the ends of your dress stained with dirt, dying the pale blue fabric brown and green.

“You’ll have to stand in the back girl.” He grumbled, his moustache dipping slightly into his mouth, pushing your shoulders and making you move behind your fellow seamstresses, grey eyes pinched into slits as he chastised you.

You heard one of your coworkers giggle from behind her hand, whispering to another about your ill fashioned garments matching your deplorable creations of fashion.

You bit your tongue and glanced at the wooden floor beneath you.

She isn’t wrong, you think, thank Celestia that your tailoring would never see the light of day.

Lady Furina and her entourage enter the room moments later, you think Furina appears to glow and wonder if your eyes are playing tricks on you, or if this is some strange phenomenon one achieves when becoming an archon.

You shake your head and join your party’s collective bow.

You and Furina had grown closer, although, the margin of closeness was confined between her passing by the boutique window and waving in when she saw you, smiling cheekily as she took in your plethora of dresses that just appeared to get more ridiculous with time.

You had begun to crave these moments of seeing her, positioning yourself closer to the window, as to ensure you did not miss her.

You don’t understand why.

Maybe you just liked to see her smile.

…“Lady Furina, we at Chioriya Boutique thank you for allowing us to present our garments for you today.” Champvallon declares. You cringe at his sickly sweet voice that deepens in tone as he continues his speech.

The man behind Lady Furina is Neuvillette, you’re sure of it. High and mighty, his stature as impressive as his title.

And under your breath you repeat the pronunciation of his name, dragging out the syllables from under your tongue.

Lady Furina allows a moment to pass before she prompts, “Ah yes! Only Fontaines best is suited for your justice party.”

The presentation from the boutique takes hours.

Furina catches your eye a few times, and smiles, it’s subtle enough that you almost believe it’s not aimed at you. Ignoring the flutter of your heart everytime her eyes meet your own.

The final designs are being brought out when suddenly you see a creation that makes your heart drop.

Sitting on a cushion, is a broach.

An ugly, bedazzled broach that you were sure you had thrown out.

And it was being carried over to the justice team by a worker who stares at it confused.

“And here we have a broach for the Archon herself.” Says Champvallon, who is still yet to turn his head to view your horrendous work.

You’re paralysed, hands shaking trying to think of a way you can remove the jewellery without causing a scene.

“We hope you adore it as much as we adored making-” Champvallons voice trails off and he looks at the cushion, his eyes widening as he finally see’s what he’s presenting.

You hear the party behind Furina collectively stop their idle chatter and stare.

Everyone looks.

Nobody says anything.

“And who is behind the creation of this…thing?”

You want to die. Truly.

Your heart is in your throat and feel sick, raising a trembling hand as you step forward, your eyes stuck to the ground.

You’re sweating, palms clammy as you take a breath, preparing to be fired in-front of Lady Furina and her circle. Shame appears to drip off your brow and onto the crevices of your cheeks.

“It was me Sir.” You mumble, your voice weak, “But it was an accident I swear!”

Looking towards Lady Furina, you bow your head, pleading silently for her forgiveness, “I never meant to offend.”

“You foolish, troublesome girl.” Hisses Champvallon, his eyes narrowed as he walks towards you.

You bite your lip, and apologise profusely although you know it will not matter.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon says as he reaches your side, plastering an ugly smile on his furious face, concealing his bitter dissatisfaction.

“I will send someone immediately to retrieve your actual broach, please, hand that one over to one of the maids, I will dispose of it as soon as possible.”

“No need.” Lady Furina says, halting the conversation instantly with a raise of her glove covered hand.

She glances at the miserable looking broach and then towards you, you hold her gaze for a moment before she smiles, recognition flickering across her decorated eyes, finishing her examination of your face.

“I’d like to keep it.”

“Lady Furina?”

Holding the broach in her hands, she raises it to her face, almost as if fascinated by the shameful stitching and the odd colour scheme.

“Lady Furina.” Champvallon stutters, moving away from you, “Your kindness knows no bounds b-but surely you would prefer something a little more..well pleasing to the eye?”

You stare at the back of his head as he leaves your side, counting the freckles on his neck to steady yourself.

“It’s unique, it’s different, Fontainians are known for their eloquence, and I as the God of Hydro must always be challenging these trends.”

Furina peers over her hands to stare at your boss, a dainty eyebrow raised.

“You wouldn’t dare to challenge an Archons will, would you?”

Champvallon splutters, his face warming to a putrid red, his arms rising up as if pleading to surrender.

“N-No I merely thought that-”

“Then it is settled.” Lady Furina laughs, leaning back in her chair and glancing at you.

In your daze, you barely register the tiny wink she sends you way, eyes too focused on the way you broach was now sitting snug, amongst the fabric of her outfit.

It stuck out like a thorn grips the side of a rose and you grimace.

It was ugly, inarguably so.

Neuvillette clears his throat, eyes sweeping over your trembling figure.

“It was you who made this?” He ponders, head tilted slightly.

Your eyes snap to his, and you nod, it’s clumsy and awkward and you hate yourself.

“Um, yes your Honour, I made it.”

“It’s very interesting.” His voice is light, as if trying to filter out the tension pulling the conversation to a standstill, “The yellow and the pink are an unusual yet unique combination, very bright to the eye.”

You breathe out a small smile, as Lady Furina nods her head. “Yes, yes, indeed.”

“Thank you Monsieur Neuvillette, Lady Furina.”

You’re bowing again, chastising yourself for never taking the time to learn how to properly bow for an Archon, and then you’re leaving, hands still shaking, but head lifted just a little bit higher.

Furina doesn’t see you leave, too busy tracing the colours of her broach, smiling down at the terrible stitching as if it were weaved in silk and gold.

The presentation finishes with an awkward finality, with all eyes subconsciously darting down to look at your broach on Furina chest, wondering what in Fontaine their Archon was thinking.

—

You don’t know how, but Lady Furina had became a regular in your life now.

Always managing to catch your eye when you’re walking the streets of your home land.

Popping up randomly behind you just to greet you before leaving.

It appeared she worked in patterns, as if she was use to working by a routine.

You almost assume she appears there on purpose, it’s always far too convenient for it to be by chance.

“Y/N!” You hear one day, you’re sitting outside enjoying your lunch break as Lady Furina approaches you.

You hear a bustle and suddenly Fontainians are flodding the streets, clamouring over to her, crowding her.

You smile as she appears to soak up the attention, flaunting her hands in every direction, acknowledging everyone, one by one.

The people don’t seem to think about the prophecy when Focalor herself is before them, too busy trusting her with their lives to care.

You catch her gaze after a moment, and she puffs out her chest, as if trying to impress you.

Your heart aches.

You blink.

…That’s a strange feeling.

“Now now, my faithful subjects.” She begins, “I must take my leave now, I have very important business to attend to!”

You hear the groans of her people, as they beg her to stay, but reluctantly they remove themselves from her and walk away.

It’s just you and her now and she gestures for you to follow her.

You grow nervous, knowing there are watchers.

You hear them whisper behind their hands, hear them questioning why the “crazy girl from the boutique was the centre of the Hydro Archons attention.”

You cringe, but follow her anyway, your steps timid under eyes.

You think you’d follow her anywhere, but that could just be your adrenaline talking, your heart thumping within the confines of your chest.

“Lady Furina,” You say when you reach an empty alleyway, away from the eyes of Fontaine.

You pause, taking in the cracked bricks in the surrounding walls. “This is…Well- I’ll be honest it’s creepy.”

“Huh.” She says, turning to face you, “It’s more private no?”

“It’s a dark alleyway.” You deadpan.

Furina laughs, taking your hand in a wild moment of humour.

Dear God you hope you aren’t sweating.

“Never fear!” She declares, “As long as I’m here, nothing can harm you.”

Her words draw out a feeling that you don’t allow yourself to delve into, choosing instead let her hold your shaky hand without pulling away.

“I never got to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

You blush.

“For saving my career the other day.”

You see Furinas eyes move, as if trying to recall.

“Oh! The showing.”

You nod, “Thank you for…being so kind.”

You smile at her, and her eyes drops to your teeth in one fast, graceful motion before travelling back to your eyes.

“Always.” She replies, as if it was the simplest concept to her, like washing your hands or falling asleep.

Your face is on fire.

Gods your hands are definitely sweaty now.

Lady Furina shakes her head, as if pulling herself together.

“Now! I’m inviting you to tea.”

What.

“Sorry?”

“Tea. With me, together.”

“No, no I-I got that.”

She smiles, “So?”

“Why in Teyvat would you want to have tea with me?” You question, hope blooming in your chest, overpowering your habit of avoidance.

Furina stills, her face filled with confusion that you don’t get.

“You don’t want tea with me?” Shadows seem to cover her face, and you pull your hand from hers to frantically wave them in front of you.

“No no! Don’t misunderstand me! I’d love to, oh my God there’s nothing I’d enjoy more it’s just that-”

“Just that what?”

“You’re an archon?”

Furina frowns.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m asking you to join me as a friend, not as an Archon.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

You know of your less than extraordinary appearance, and the simplicity of your life. You know that imagining anything more with an Archon is a fantasy so baffling that it even embarrasses you.

But you still can’t fight the disappointment resonating in your chest at the stupid word “Friend”.

Furina doesn’t seem to notice your deflation, instead probing you for an answer. Her hand reaching up to hold your arm, tugging you closer to her.

There’s a hopeful, cheeky look in her eye that you think could persuade even the most hellish of Demons to stand down.

“Well? You’ll join me?”

You sigh, and try to throw on a smile.

You feel like a puppet, your grin has to be ugly, repulsive, even so, you maintain it with cracked continuity.

“Sure.”

—

What does one wear to a date visit with an Archon?

You hate everything you own.

You almost rip your nails off in frustration after the fourth attempt to dress yourself fails.

This is terrible, everything is terrible.

Archons why do you own such ugly clothes!

You hear a knock at your door, and you jump, lifting your head to see Chiori staring at you, her unwavering gaze filtered with confusion.

“Chiori?” You ask, trying to hide the mess of your room.

Or well, her room, saying you were technically leaching off of her house until you could save up enough money to move.

She raises an eyebrow, a silent question of your antics, and you sigh.

“I have nothing to wear.”

“Hm.” Chiori responds, her lip going between her teeth as she takes in the mess of your clothing.

“And since when do you care what you wear?”

You scoff, offended.

“I always care!”

“Right…”

—

You think Chiori was sent by Celestia.

No really, you do.

Especially now when you’re twirling infront of your mirror, admiring her artistry on your body.

“It’s beautiful Chirori.” You whisper, your finger tracing the delicate stitching, enamoured by the sheer amount of detail on your gown.

“It’s hardly my best.” She replies, batting your hand away to finish the seam, “But all my other work is being used for the Fashion festival.”

You grin.

“I get the leftovers then.” You say cheekily, daring to wink at her.

Chiori shakes her head, “You get what I feel is right for you, and this…” She gestures to your dress, “Does look beautiful on you.”

Thank you Celestia you repeat in your head, Thank you for finally giving me a break.

—

You meet Furina at the Palais Mermonia.

She spots you as you walk in, and beckons you to a room across the hall.

Tiny Melusines greet you, and you smile at them, reaching down to pat their little heads.

Furina stills as she takes you in, fully looking at you.

“You look different.” She states, and you stop your movements entirely.

“You’re dressed…” Furina trails off, and your face warms.

“Nicely?” You finish, a teasing smile on your lips, “For a change?”

She shakes her head.

“You always look nice, it’s just jarring to see you wear something so well fitting.”

Her eyes trail along your figure, and you flush, your mind unable to comprehend your compliment.

Furina suddenly pulls herself out of her trance and smiles, putting out a hand for you to take.

“Never-mind that now!” She beams, “Desert time! Come, come!”

And you’re alone with Furina, your hand in hers.

She leads you over to a table adorned with confectionery to last over a hundred life times.

“Do you drink tea? Or would you rather Fonta?” She asks, turning her head to glance at you, and you rip your eyes away from your conjoined hands.

“Uh, tea, tea is good.”

Lady Furina looks at you, her eyebrow raised, “Alright, sugar?”

“Huh!!?”

“Sugar? As in, do you want sugar?”

“Oh! Yes of course!”

You pause, and Furina continues to look at you.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you taking sugar?”

Dear God, how are you so pathetic?

“Yes please.” You say silently, embarrassment morphing your face, forcing your head to fall to look at the floor.

Furina sets your tea in front of you, before pulling a chair over to sit next to you.

She watches the way your body seems to shrink in on itself, you hand fiddling with the loose fabric of your gown.

You nervous, and Furina scowls.

She doesn’t like this.

“What’s going on hm?” She asks plainly, and you restrain yourself from jumping at her forwardness.

“I-I’m sorry?” You attempt to delay, taking a sip of your tea, burning your mouth.

“You seem..off.” Furina says, her voice slightly drawn out, a frown on her features. “Have I done something?”

“What? No! Absolutely not you haven’t done anything…” You stammer out, a fake laugh breaking the barriers of your teeth as you try to compose yourself.

“Then why-”

Your eyes dart around the table, choosing to make eye contact with the bread than with her.

“It’s just a lot like wow I’m having tea with a God!”

Furina stirs her tea slowly, her eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought we were past this?”

“Sorry?”

“You seeing me as a God?”

You blink, and Furina takes a sip of her tea.

“You..You are a God though, you’re my God?”

Furina thinks the tea turns sour in her mouth.

“Technically, I suppose so, but I believe us to be friends?” She sets her cup down, and looks at you, her cheeks slightly red. “Am I mistaken?”

You clamour to explain yourself, your arms reaching out as if trying to slow time, ignoring the painful tug of your heart at that stupid word again.

“N-No of course we’re friends!” You stammer, “It’s just…Well I-”

“Then there’s no reason for you to be nervous.”

You nod.

And then something happens.

Something switches.

And suddenly Furina isn’t merely looking at you,

She examining you.

“Unless.” She starts, and you feel a truly dreadful sinking feeling within your chest.

“Unless there’s..Something else bothering you?”

And every facial expression you display is analysed before you, every twitch of your eyebrow, the way your eyes widen and the way you seem to stop breathing.

Furina leans forward, an emotion so humanly desperate flickering across her face.

An emotion she is yet to understand.

Your lips part and you truly do not know what to say.

It’s foolish, to ever consider yourself worthy to share a reciprocated love with your God you remind yourself bitterly.

You’re confused, anguished, disheartened by her referral to you as a friend and yet, you do not know what to say.

So you clear your throat.

And breathe in.

“I do not know what you mean Lady Furina.” You whisper, and it’s wrong, wrong, wrong.

And Lady Furina waits only a sheer second, before she’s leaning back in her chair and raising her head.

Somethings off.

“Then let’s us drink together as friends.”

You could swear then, that Lady Furina looked human.

You would stand trial on the fact that you saw her deflate with disappointment in the most mortal like way. You’d swear an oath.

But then you blink and the Hydro Archon blinks back.

And you’re sure you were mistaken.

—

There’s rumours in Fontaine.

There’s rumours everywhere, this isn’t a new concept to you.

But this is different, this rumour makes your blood freeze in your veins.

You heard it after you walked home from the boutique, a group of local Poisson men whispering under their breath.

“Lady Furina isn’t Fontaine’s Archon.”

You pause, turning your head as subtly as you could, creeping closer as to listen to their words.

You’re not a silent stalker and so they see you immediately.

They glare at you as they leave and you’re left confused as they made their way back to Poisson.

The next you hear of them, they’re dead.

Dissolved in the rising water.

You throw up when you see their faces in the paper, along with the heading “Fontaine’s Archon Fails Her People.”

You have faith.

You have faith.

You have faith.

—

Your faith dies with your Archon on the day of her trial.

You don’t go, you never go to trials.

But you know the happenings as if you were there to witness.

You find yourself running towards the Opera Epiclese, tripping over your own feet when the words “Death Penalty” reach your ears.

It’s silent.

Oh so silent.

And then the rain starts, and the tides grow.

And you can’t make it to the staircase of the Epiclese due to the water filling your lungs.

You’re drowning.

Screaming out bubbles of prayers to an Archon that isn’t yours.

Betrayal wrecks through your body and you’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

You’re drowning.

—

Furina cries on her watery throne.

Mourning the loss of her people, her home, her facade.

She thinks of you, briefly, thinks of your face, your clothes, your eyes.

Letting herself smile gently, she allows her tears to wash away her role.

It was nice to play a God.

If only she could save them.

—

.

.

.

.

You’re nervous.

You keep pacing back and fourth, pathetically trying to figure out a way in which you can knock on the door of Furina’s house, and speak with her like humans.

After the flood, you found yourself bed bound, your lips tainted blue and breath engulfing you so vigorously that you coughed until your eyes stung red.

The man who saved you kissed your hand when you woke up, crying out that he thought you wouldn’t make it.

You smile at him and thank him.

“I owe you my life.” You had whispered.

Lady Furina was no longer Fontaines Archon.

Gone into a state like hiding from the public, terrified of their outrage.

The nurse that cared for you, informed you of as much, recounting how the Iudex Neuvillette had saved Fontaine, saved you.

And you cried when she left you, tucked up in a hospital bed, weeping over the unknown.

You can’t face her. You conclude.

Not because you didn’t want to but because you had absolutely no idea how to begin.

Would she still regard you with such kindness despite you knowing everything?

How do you convey how you feel for her, when you truly do not know who she even is?

You heart sinks to your stomach and you walk away, hands dropping to your sides. Forcing yourself to move on, and to let fate guide you as far away from Fontaine as it could lead.

You hear a door open, but don’t make the connection until you hear your name being called from behind.

“Y/N!”

You freeze, glancing over your shoulder timidly, staring towards the very God woman you had grown so fond of.

Staring at you humbly on her doorstep.

“Lady-Miss Furina.” You reply, your hands trembling and voice shaking, turning to face her fully.

Her cheeks were flushed as though she made her way to the door in a hurry, eyes narrowed and yet you could not see a trace of annoyance in the depths of her pupils.

“You-” She starts, breathless as if realising that her action of following you would lead to confrontation for the first time, “I saw you.” She pointed up to her arched windows and your face flushes, mortified.

Of course she had.

You say nothing, trying to think of an excuse, anything to dissipate the tension you feel in your bones.

“���You weren’t going to come in?” She questions, her voice small, unbefitting for a woman who use to bellow to the masses with the unfiltered confidence of a Deity.

And you stare, and stare and stare . Your eyes moving over her face, her attire, the stupid bow on her hat.

You’re utterly speechless, profoundly so.

Unable to say anything of value to the woman in which you swore that you-

Furina sighs, her shoulders dropping, hat slipping forward on her head.

Taking your silence for resentment, she accepts your unfettered anger as atonement for her sins.

“I see.” She mumbles plainly, turning to go back inside her house.

And it’s said with such bitter regret and vile disappointment that you find words spilling from the confines of your lips, desperate to call her back.

“I quit.” You frantically say, voice meek.

And Furina stops so you continue.

“Working for Chiori.” You clarify, taking a step forward.

The sun appears to intrude on your conversation, the early morning light presenting itself from behind the brazen buildings of Fontaine, eager to listen.

It makes her complexion golden, the blue strands of her hair, now short, appearing to glow in its wake.

Furina opens her mouth, then closes it, shaking her head defiantly before he’s facing you again, and you’re so close yet so far.

“I needed a change.” You whisper, and she appears to lean closer to hear you, to read the way the words fall from your lips.

You don’t know why this is the first thing you wish to discuss with Furina.

There’s countless other things you could spew, the mirage of questions you have resting in the back of your throat, the confused, recount of events, yet you chose to say none of it for sake of talking about yourself.

You’re selfish, perhaps cruel, but God you just wanted to talk to her.

Furina looks at you, her eyes wide, the sun catches the blue and draws out the sparkle as she looks at you. You drown.

“I’m…I’m glad.” She whispers, “You hated it there.”

“I did.”

You step towards her, keeping your hands still, resting at your sides limp.

“You-” You start, clearing your voice, terrified to overstep, “I mean- Did you hate being an Archon?”

Furina doesn’t move, her cheeks painted rouge with the mention of her role.

Then slowly, subtly, she nods, once up and once down. You almost miss it.

You smile, your eyes crinkling trying to express your endless empathy through one look.

“Then I’m glad you stepped down.”

And Furina wants to kiss you.

She feels it in her mortal soul, amid the beautifully soft way you voice your smile, the desire to be human with you and to make you hers.

She breathes and you watch.

“I’ll miss your silly clothes.” Furina sighs, and you giggle.

“I still wear my silly clothes.” You bite back, and she shakes her head before moving a finger along the underside of your jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” She says, and you take her role of silence, stunned.

Furina lifts her hand, and places it on your cheek, looking down avoiding your eye. “And so boundlessly fascinating.”

“I can’t quite explain it I just-”

You cut her off when you kiss her.

Breathing in her confession and replacing it with your own.

Two mortal souls intertwined as one on her doorstep.

She responds by pulling you closer, trailing her hand to the back of your head and smiling against your lips.

You’re not a seamstress and she’s not an Archon and yet, in this moment that’s okay.

Everything is okay.

feel free to leave a request!

Masterlist <3

artwork credits

A/N- when i say i have been wanting to write this for MONTHS i mean it- i am just so BOUNDLESSLY sick of wlw fics being fetishised and the lack of like a good wlw comfort fic in any character x reader was bothering me ! so thank u to anyone who gives this a try and reads it ! i appreciate you so so so much !!!

ALSO when i say the reader’s fashion is strange or unflattering I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED with insane 19th century dresses so i made a collection of outfits PSA when i say she (the readers) fashion is questionable I MEAN IT <3 i imagine my lovely little failed seamstress makes her own clothes from time to time bc although she’s not good at her job, she still enjoys being creative

if ur interested i made a post of her outfits here :)

thank u so so so much for reading i love u i love u i love u

[khrtzu]

‘MINHO DRABBLE 1’

PAIRING — boyfie!minho x fem!reader

GENRE — smut

SYNOPSIS — minho has an oral fixation

TW — none :)

NOTE — soo i sent this in an ask for @hyunsvngs and thought is was sexy so im posting it here too >&lt;; (side note go follow juno theyre an amazing writer and they support all my delusional hard thoughts..)

nav :3

minho has the biggest oral fixation. its starts innocent, hes always chewing on his pens and pencils, licking and biting at his own lips, mindlessly sucking on a lollipop while he works. then he constantly has his mouth on you. kissing your lips, cheeks, shoulders and down your arms. he even presses little kisses to your knuckles and tips of your fingers, but the pecks on your fingers slowly turn into him taking it in his mouth sucking and biting just slightly and he scrolls on his phone. he doesn’t really notice what he’s doing. poor baby just wants to be as close as he can to you :(

then one day as minhos thrusting into you at a controlled pace making your eyes roll and drool slip past your lips slightly. hes got his hands all over you, your right leg pulled up and ankle resting in the dip between his shoulder and neck so he can hit extra deep inside you. his hand thats not holding your leg comes down to tweak your nipples before he wipes the drool from your chin. “such a messy girl” he coos at you. his fingers going from your chin up to your bottom lip trailing against it so lightly. he looks almost hypnotized staring at your plumps lips that fall open in a silent moan as he leans forward and lets his pointer finger slowly dip into your mouth.

and lord its so wet and hot and he cant help but let out a whine at the feeling of it. your eyes stay locked on his as you take his finger, your lips wrap around the base of it before sucking as he pulls his finger back just to push it in once more. “holy shit.” he mutters and he realizes the simple action is gonna push him over the edge. “gonna cum.” he whimpers breathlessly as you continue to swirl your tounge around his finger sucking, drooling, and biting at it softly. he cant take his eyes off your mouth as his pace quickens, chasing his high.

the vision of you drooling all over him and god the feeling of it. it’s unexplainable and before he knows it hes toppling head first into what he thinks is the most intense orgasm hes ever had. his eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth hands open in a silent moan brows scrunched together in nothing but pure pleasure. his hips still and you feel his hot seed fill your aching cunt. the hand holding your leg comes down to grip your hip dimpling the supple flesh to try and stabilize himself. he huffs out a breath coming down from his high before his fingers ripped from your lips and its replaced with his own. is nothing short of passionate and needy. he lets out a moan into the kiss before pulling back with your bottom lip caught between his teeth.

[idanceuntilidie]

I get so hugry when you say you love me.

yandere male x gn reader.

Tw: Yandere behaviours| Mentions of kidnapping| Cannibalism| Slightly suggestive at only one point.

Requests open

It took me longer to write than I thought it would honestly and it’s not even that long. Sorry for that.

Now if you excuse me Im gonna eat a bowl of cereal and yes that is my dinner.

Turns out there is not many things you can do without your limbs.

Your eyes wandered lazily around the bright pink ceiling, you were hungry and bored. You don’t remember how many days Gummy kept you in his house.

No internet, no tv, music was allowed only on CDs or cassettes but you would only be able to listen to it when he was in the room with you. The room itself was, heavily decorated.

Very scene, very cool, you would appreciate it more if you didn’t spend most of your time laying down and being held against your will. Surround by pillows and plushies, on a huge ass bed.

Gummy took care of you. He made sure you were dressed up so nicely. He liked to talk about how when he was younger he had so many dolls and he could dress them up.Then he would look into your eyes and smile, you saw the same crazed look every time, then he would say that you are like a doll now. So pretty and his. It was easy to guess that he would do little fashion shows with you. From dresses to suits. He bought them just for you. Right now you wore very loose clothing that you are sure was his, you could tell by the smile and how… excited he got.

He rarely went out of the house. He fears that somehow you would leave him.

How the fuck would you even do that? Your legs and arms were chopped off. The worst part is that sometimes you still can feel them, sometimes it’s quick, other time you feel the burning sensation which makes you cry out.

So Gummy made sure not to leave the house all that much, when he trusts you more maybe, just maybe he will.

Groceries were kind of hard to get.

Your diet mainly consisted of fruits, vegetables. After some time you might get sick of those. The taste would get bland and well it made you sometimes want to throw up.

Currently you were waiting for the dinner, by waiting you mean you were laying on your back because moving without limbs was actually really hard for you. He promised that today he would prepare something great.

You hoped that maybe today he would give you an actual dinner.

And he did, it looked too good to be true.

“Hi sunshine! Sorry for taking so long I wanted your first proper dinner to be perfect!”

You heard him giggle.

He helped you sit up and you looked over his shoulder to see such a beautiful food behind him. Finally no more fruits. He hummed as he went to bring up the plate.

It smelled so good, you were a bit taken back since you didn’t know he would be able to cook anything else than water.

He began to feed you, it still was in fact so embarrassing every single time.

You chewed slowly, looking away from him. He laughed happily when he saw you enjoyed his cooking. It didn’t take you long to finish, Gummy put the plate away and basically pounced on you. You shrieked when he playfully licked your lips saying how good you taste like.

“I just ate that means you are just tasting your own fucking cooking!”

“Yea I know”

You tried to bite him, it only made him chuckle and grab your face.

“You taste amazing, my point still stands, and your meat was so easy to prepare you would have never guessed.”

“What the fuck do you mean ‘my meat’?”

He let go of your face. He smiled eerily while he tapped the nub of your arm.

“The rest is for me, I will have a part of you inside me! Isn’t that romantic?”

Your stomach squeezed painfully, eyes widening. Did he.. Oh God. You felt the vomit it your mouth, Gummy laughed as he pinched your nose and covered your mouth.

“You better swallow and not waste my cooking.”

You didn’t want to, eyes blurring due to lack of oxygen. You didn’t want to, but when your eyes locked with his, hot tears streaming down your face, he just smiled.

[toby-du-coeur]

incomplete list of ways movie!newt could've survived, because

im rewatching tdc and i honestly can't take it and am gonna chew through my own arm in his memory

NEWT DOESN'T TURN

mary makes some extra serum for brenda for the road, & so they have it when newt is infected

since lawrence is gonna sacrifice himself anyway, gally gets the remainder of his serum from him in exchange for breaking into wckd, buying newt time

instead of getting drunk and wandering the halls she is IN CHARGE OF, ava kills janson or does anything else to thwart him & help the kids

there's some serum they're currently running tests on that's outside the vault, and they take a detour sometime in the minho-rescue to get some

gally deep enraged breaths gally takes the fucking serum with him, when he runs from brenda & the kids to go bring thominewt back

thomas kisses him and they cuddle a lot during all the shenanigans. this makes newt less stressed, buying time 😊😊😊

or. hear me out. xanax

during the battle, wckd captures thominewtally and takes them to teresa and ava, who make the serum and cure newt. then they break out

they continue talking to brenda through the walkie-talkie, and when the berg flies over them, they drop down a hook and pick the boys up. since we all know wckd has stormtrooper aim, they make it. and then maybe they pick up teresa from some rooftop

IF NEWT TURNS

thomas [sometime during wckd training, runner training, or vince] has learnt the fireman's carry and is able to carry newt faster and also like.. just let him gnaw on him or whatever if he starts to turn, or knock him out real quick

thomas hears teresa say 'it's your blood,' immediately cuts himself and newt open and does some kind of blood brothers thing, which.. at least shocks newt's system enough that the serum arrives. and then thomas is lowkey bleeding out but newt is back to sanity & sarcasm enough to finish things off

thomas knocks newt out with the gun or like shoots him in the leg, buying time

they've picked up one of those stun serum thingies like janson uses, and use it on newt

thomas sticks the serum in newt in desperation and rage after he's just been knifed, bella cullen style {with plenty of those squishy stabby noises like in breaking dawn} and he comes back to life

[and after that, as teresa's done her same speech over the intercom, newt is reasonable with him so they get thomas' sweet sweet cure blood as well]

they get some serum to newt and escape to the safe haven. teresa and that bit of serum from the napkin survive. newt stays v e r y c a l m and slowly deteriorates for months, living on the bag of serum and their half-botched attempts to make more. and then teresa shows up 😘

teresa doesn't survive, but thomas keeps newt alive with the extra serum until he manages to make a working cure out of sheer grit and bloodloss and memories of wckd, because he loves newt to the point of invention

and the one that i half-genuinely see in the canon film:

the knife misses his heart. {they LITERALLY do not pull the knife out, check for a heartbeat or touch him in any way, it's insane}. the thomas-blood-knife + newt's undying love [*] resurrect him. he battles his way to the safe haven and they can give him that vial of the cure that thomas is left just holding like a loose end <3

[*plus some faint multidimensional influence of the dashner canon that newt apparently IS the cure, which.. afaik how immunity/cure works is that your body produces enzymes that fight it off FOR YOU and therefore can be transferred to fight it off for others.. so what kinda shuck sense does t h a t make]

[fortloser]

[note from medic: apologies to the person who screamed "SCOUT YOURE A BADDIE" I accidentally deleted it when I tried to post scouts message for you]

Flattery gets you anywhere toots, so here’s a little gift from me to you. a genuine Jermaine Arnoult batter-up pic from before I joined the team. My friends and I used to break into the baseball stadium just to mess around, and one of them took this picture of me. better hold onto it tight, it's gonna be worth thousands.

Speaking of baddies, GI JOE has to wear an ankle monitor for now, he’s not allowed to go anywhere outside of the BLU territory. and lemme tell you something, he has NOT been taking it well. yesterday he tried chewing his own leg off and today he convinced demo to blow it up. problem is it ended up being the wrong leg. man am i glad im not him right now!

/this is scout signing off!

[eyesoiree]

FUN FACTS ABOUT VALERIE NOW

also hehe please do tell Toby in your creepypasta au (and the others) ^^

qessusie you beautiful man im going to chew on your face

Valerie:

she has a lot of inspirations but a big one is Ruby Lane from Fear Street!! (I love the fear street movies so much shoutout to @stxticfxce for getting me into it)

originally, her favorite food was gonna be cherries and her ship name with Jack would be "cherrypie", the pie part coming from Jack's magpie nickname. I scrapped it cause i just stopped liking it after awhile.

Jeff calls her "Lamb chops" sometimes. I'm a firm believer in the headcanon that Jeff is terrible with names and just calls everyone whatever the hell he wants.

she can run in high heels and platforms!

her main weapons are dual switchblades with silver handles. her last name is engraved into the blades. if she can't use her hands she's really good at fighting with her legs (Jack's first impression of her was almost getting kicked in the nuts, actually)

she's closest with Kate and Jack, she's only comfortable being extremely vulnerable with them and maybe Slenderman.

Jeff's first impression of her was being stabbed in the eye with his own knife (she apologized and gave him cigarettes to make up for it after his body fully healed, they're decent friends now)

She has entomophobia (fear of bugs, not fear of vomiting) due to something that happened in her childhood. The memory of what caused it is lost to her, but the phobia stayed.

Toby:

African American in my AU! I saw a prophecy from the gods above and it felt so right. He's still extremely fluent in German though, he calls Jeff a bunch of German cuss words when they piss each other off lmao

I've been thinking about making him aroace for awhile. i think him and Clocky work better as a platonic Wybie and Coraline duo than romantic, at least my versions. also clockwork is a lesbian in my au.

Toby's name is the only one Jeff can remember because he's constantly being yelled at. He's just a silly guy!!

He has a plethora of different weapons that he uses on missions! he might use his hatchets or a baseball bat or a chainsaw. He tried to use a flamethrower once but he accidentally exploded his eyeballs cause he got too close to the fire. He was out for like 6 hours until his body was able to heal itself and he could see again. He got the target though!

Heavily inspired by Wybie Lovat design wise, he is a slouchy, spindly man. Him and Clocky are the same height, but he looks shorter cause his posture is awful.

Pretty close with Valerie but he kinda overwhelms her sometimes. They bond over shared amnesia.

Ben:

Ben isn't technically his name.. the letters B-E-N are just his initals. He doesn't remember his actual name and doesn't care to. (Fun fact, it's russian! I'd tell you what it is but I haven't thought of it yet 🌝)

Doesn't smoke pot in my au since i'm not rlly good with drugs.

Besties with Jeff. Like homoerotic besties. Yk those 'straight' guys at school that sit on their friends lap as a 'joke'? they're like that.

He doesn't look exactly like Link, but his fashion sense is inspired by him. He wears alot of green beanies and grows out his hair to shoulder length, etc.

Not technically a full ghost.. he's like a mix of a proxy and a ghost. (Proxy is a universal term for anyone who works under slenderman in my au. I'll make a post fully explaining how my au works sometime in the future if someone asks for it. or if i get bored one night, who knows.)

He got Jeff into anime but has been sworn to secrecy since Jeff thinks anime is too "nerdy" for him.

Jack:

Tall boy. 6'8 with his slouch, 6'11 at his full height.

I've learned recently that Chernobog is an actual, very real deity in slavic culture. Because I want to avoid being disrespectful, and also because i love making up supernatural entities, his backstory is very different than in canon! I'm not gonna go into full detail in this post but to summarize, he kinda merged with a type of cannablistic demon during the ritual. Demons in my au have lots of different types. Ones that don't belong to a specific.. breed (for lack of a better term) are usually really powerful and are very rare. The Operator is one of those rare cases!

If he listened to music he'd definitely listen to Shoegaze. I think of him to Ghost by Whirr and Mercury by Glaze alot.

He can't gain any proteins or calories or anything from regular food, he can only really 'survive' from eating human meat. Anything else is technically starving.

Doesn't have sharp teeth, just an extremely strong bite force and a hunger that battles a medieval peasant's.

If he's not outside finding things, or hanging out with Val, he's usually just sleeping. He doesn't have a lot of hobbies and not much motivation to find any. He watches youtube sometimes, but only when he's really bored.

Very quiet, both verbally and physically. Before Val, he usually only spoke if he had to and even then he wouldn't say anymore than he needed to. He often unintentionally scares people because he doesn't make any noise doing like.. anything so its extremely hard to notice him before he's like 5 inches behind you.

He's been struck by lightning twice. He was fine after, just a bit spooked.

[fatteningmenstories]

At your service Chapter 8

Part 2

At first he had tried to fight the machine, but his struggles proved fruitless these attempts soon thistled out, worsened by his growing hunger, even as he ate more and more his appetite never ceased to grow he was trapped by it. He hankered to be fed, it wasn’t long till he felt like an eating machine, it was his sole purpose the hours and hours of chocolate broke him he submitted to the machines ready to eat and stuff his face.

And so as he ate more and more he continued to blossom in size, he was becoming fatter and fatter by the day and he was powerless to it, he felt his bum grow in size as he sat on it day in and day out, his limb were becoming heavier and heavier weighing him down on the sides , and of course there was his gut. What 6 pac abs once occupied now was a the site of his ever growing gut. It knew no boundaries and showed now restraints, Alex couldn’t even see around, if it wasn’t for its pressing weight on his thighs and legs he wouldn’t even know they were there. Every day it seemed to be growing always bloated and constantly rising pushing his man tits higher and higher until they were crushing against his neck - it was his prison within his prison.

New features had to be constantly installed to the people mover to accommodate Alex’s growing weight, platforms installed to keep his gut from crushing his legs but even these were buckling. Alex’s body showed no signs of slowing down and his people movie built to withstand up to 700lbs was soon struggling to match its host weight just kept rising but alas as it slowed down and needed for maintenance Alex simply paid it not attention - instead he was more invested in the food heading towards him.

“Why why why - my boy look at how you’ve grown’ Mr Gordo bellowed as he approached the mass of flesh in the chocolate room

Alex could barely respond he was too engrossed in his food to respond, his time in the people mover had drained him all he cared about was food and keeping his stomach full

‘My my, the research these last hundred of pounds have provided has been marvellous by dear boy’

Alex only grunted in response to busy to even care

“And it looks with you finally entering 4 figures we are gonna need to upgrade that chair of yours’

4 figures !! - What how was this possible, the thought of continuing his meal grew sour on him, 1000lbs pounds - could he even move

“Not to worry, my dear boy, look’ve what I’ve brought you’

Alex stained his head as much as his fat neck could let him, as Adam rolled out the new people mover - It was massive - was he really that big

‘Now don’t worry my boy, I know those tubby little legs of yous are no use to you now and Im sure you won’t be running of would you now’

Chuckled Mr Gordo as Alex’s restraints were turned down

With a Whoosh!!, the iron belt retreated and Alex felt his hundreds of pounds of fat be free, and to his dismay Mr Gordo was right he could barely move weighed down by the seer mass of his own body he was immobile

“ Ahh looks like this not so little piggy has finally bitten off more than he can chew - huh my boy. Adam !!help our subject to his new device’

How could he continue like this, he couldn’t let Mr Gordo win, this was his chance to end this gluttonous madness - and he had to seize it

“Chocolate’ he grunted

“What’s was that my dear pig’

“Chocolate’ Alex let out trying to heave his stubby arm to point to the brown oozing lake

‘Ah I see seems like someone hasn’t learnt their lesson- but so be it, here let me pig’
Mr Gordo willingly acted, marvelled in this opportunity to push his fattened pig into the lake once again.

With Adam in one hand and Mr Gordo in the other, the towering mass of fat that was Alex was slowly rolled and pushed to the chocolate. Adam of course doing most go the heavy lifting to heave Alex gigantic body to the lake while Mr Gordo stroked and prodded the layers of Alex

“Here you are my boy - drink up’ My Gordo said instruction Adam to drop Alex to the floor

And as he was laid on the edge in arms r each for chocolate Alex and to fight ever urge in his body to drink up the dark tempting chocolate that had lead to down this pathway of immobility instead he grunted as tried with all his might to use all of his energy to roll his behemoth body to the side tripping an unexpected Mr Gordo straight in, and as he laid there panting and his side unable to move the sound of Mr Gordo struggling in the chocolate lake was music to his ears

‘AHHHHHHH’

‘My boy - ahh You’re gonna pay this to fat waste of space - get me out of here!!!’

“Ada….’

But as My Gordo went to call for Adam’s help, he was met with the deep dark chocolate of his own creation, it was just so good - having never been granted access to this from Unit, he had no resistance to its deep heavy taste. He couldn’t help himself, he swelled more and more, with each mouthful only making him crave it more and more, he drank more and more while his body grew heavier and heavier. But he couldn’t break the cycle to call for Adam, he was too distracted by the chocolate - he didn’t notice his limbs growing weaker and weaker or how his legs couldn’t hold him up for much longer, until it was to late.

And as Alex heard the splattering sound die out to the empty hum of the chocolate room he knew it was over. But he too was stuck, under the thousands pounds of fat stuck to his body, he couldn’t wiggle himself out of it - how long could he last like this, the weight if of all his fat was crushing down on him and he could barely breath.

“Adam ‘ he yelled in his final breath as it all went dark.

He didn’t wake as Adam pulled his heavy body of the ground, or when Adam placed him in his new mover neither when Adam gave him the kiss of life, but when the smell of chocolate entered his nose and the taste of chocolate entered his mouth - Alex gasped to life to see Adam feeding him one last time

‘Alex you’ve alive !!” Gasped Adam hugging the mountain of a man

“Adam you’ve back’ Alec couldn’t tell whether he was happier about the taste of chocolate in his mouth of the fact Adam was back

‘From my records, it appears Mr Gordo had some control over me for approximately 7 months and 2 days and 4 minutes’

“You’ve losing me’

“Let me how ……. do I say cut this short…. when Mr Gordo was ….how do I saw disposed of - his connection and control over me was severed’

“So you back’

“Im more than the back and look at you it seems I have a lot of you to catch up on’ Adam asserted towering over the 1000 lbs of Adam

“You certainly do’ Alex couldn’t help but smirk as he Adam took in all of him only distracted by the sound of his stomach growling food food

“Adam you wouldn’t happen to be able to get lunch ready - I just haven’t eaten anything in a hour or so’

“Happily, I am after all at your service”

The end

[deadandphilgames]

Okay the australia leg is so far away, and Im not sure what im going to do, so I want to ask what your plan is. Are you going to keep up to date with dnp tumblr and risk tour spoilers, or are you going to block the dnp tag and completely avoid spoilers, or a secret third option? Bc im not sure I can wait until December without dnp tumblr, but I also think I want to experience the insanity of tour when im there. Idk.

i guess it’ll be slightly different to my wad experience as i didn’t block anything then but i also don’t feel like i saw any spoilers? i didn’t even know it began with a song

im not blocking anything for this tour because i dont think show spoilers will ruin it for me, if anything it makes me enjoy more because ill be like “omg they said the thing I knew they were gonna say!” also unless you watch/listen to a bootleg copy, the experience is always gonna be unique and chaotic when watching, so knowing the general flow of the show doesn’t feel like a full spoiler to me.

all this to say id rather chew off my own leg than give up dnp tumblr for a prolonged period of time

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

Oh noes i hav 2 separate cult au thoughts if i may throw my pennies into the hat, panie 🥺

The first thought is wondering how hungry for power/favoritism cult au Jack would be. I mean with his history as the golden boy of the circus, and manipulating Rory for his own gains since they were young (to give him a new loving home ofc), whats to stop him from doing his best to climb the ranks of the cult harem?

It can't be too hard, just being his kind attentive self, doing what he's told, being an excellent leader (and giving the best dick out of all 9 of them), of course their great leader calls upon him more often than not. Sure it starts with nightly trysts, and asking his opinion on new programs to implement, but...being a leader is so stressful afterall. The MC went their whole lives thinking they were human, and now have all of these duties and expectations.

He wouldn't mind if they vented to him sometimes, asked for his thoughts on their decisions when they doubt themselves, having a shoulder to cry on when they're at their lowest and are feeling vulnerable. He's privy to all their secret desires and insecurities, they've told them as much whether they're leaning on his shoulder, or he's thrusting between their legs as they cling to him. groaning and mumbling how much he's "their favorite" and "if he'd ever want to run away just the two of them, they'd go with him ina heartbeat" through panting breath, running their hands through his hair.

During their pillow talk, maybe the boys pop up in conversation on occasion, Joseph looks so lonely, and he takes such good care of Rory... would it be so hard to ask him if he would spend some time with him? He practically idolizes Jack, and the MC would love it if he tried to be a really good friend to him on occasion, like he is for them~ and they'd be more than happy to reward him for doing such a good job

Maybe they ask him for more favors, just how far is he willing to go to please them?

and what would he do if he ever finds out that MC has done the same with the other boys in a different capacity? (Ik the wise choice of action would be to ask that maybe MC went through the same song and dance with the other boys, told Ian, Nick, Shaun, or Jean that they loved them the most and would run away with them ina heartbeat if they ever got the chance, and how angry/hot that'd probably make Jack)

but in all honesty Im way off topic and just thinkin ofa normal MC havin a bad day, and cuddling with Bo, and kissin his lil snoot and tell him that they're gonna pack him with a bunch of candy and money in a suitcase and run away from their adult Job, and they'd live near a beach lika hermit with their puppy.. before just getting up and going to work the next day, cult au or not.

I mean he's a boyfriend but a pet dog actually, but a boyfriend, and every family dog has to hear either the running away speech, or our rants about a tv show and how we'd write it better while they chew on something on the couch, not caring.

Hey, what? What the fuck, you just waltz in here, say the sexiest most correct shit ever and then just leave? How dare, I wish to kiss you on the mouth. The only thing I disagree with is how often Jack and y/n can be together. Jack's teaching full time and has to practice acts and lines with his friends for their show once summer break hits. He's not absent per say but spending a lot of time with him is rough, for me at least, if you're cool with kids then y'all can hang a lot more often. He does make time for you obvi but he's a busy body and doesn't feel comfortable taking a real break, a habit you might just have to shake him out of

[adelaidedrubman]

to jestiny for the oc love interest insults :)

after fishing near each other for an hour in complete silence, apropos of nothing, sybille* asks, "so is it like a judith and holofernes kind of thing you're goin' for, or what?" *wasn't present for the samson and delilah metaphor

(blows you a kiss verbs warnings for graphic and loving descriptions of beheading)

jestiny furrows her brow, considering, then says slowly, “nah — i’d been thinking of myself as more of a salome type, but…” she shrugs and clicks her tongue against her teeth, tipping her beer towards sybille with a grin. “can’t be too fucking picky about head, am i right?”

she laughs at her own joke, taking a slow sip of her drink and allowing a brief resumption of silence before adding, “of course, i have always thought salome was kinda fucked up for sending off guards to take care of the ol’ whack-kcch for her instead of doing it with her own two hands. where’s the fuckin’ satisfaction in that?” jestiny shoves the handle of her rod into the dirt, propping the pole against the inside of her leg and leaning back with an agitated drum of her fingers against her thigh. she’s settling in.  “that being said, i think doing the deed while he’s passed out drunk is also a bit of a fucking waste,” she lectures, chewing the inside of her lip. “like — what’s the fucking point if he isn’t even conscious for it? if you don’t get to see the fear flash in his eyes as you bring the blade down?” she shakes her head. “i mean, it’s already such a quick way to die — all those nerves severed just like that.” she snaps. “you gotta find a way to add the build up before, right?”  jessie rubs her chin, thoughtfully.  “i’ve always thought i’d, y’know — maybe do one soft whack to the side of his neck to start, half-ass it — maybe pretend to miss on purpose, so we can tussle a bit after, give him a chance to think he can weasel away before really putting my back into it and lobbing it off clean…”  her bulky denim jacket is now pushed to the side to expose the hand axe holstered at her hip, her fingers absentmindedly stroking its handle.  “or bring a knife too, start with slitting his throat a little first — superficial, not enough to bleed out from. but enough for me to wedge my axe into while i hold ’im down.” her cheeks flush; her chest rises with a sharp intake of breath. “let him actually feel the blade under the skin of his neck before i wind it back and swing to finish things off for good!” she bursts into laughter, shaking it off before continuing, “now, ideally, i think the visual of actually having a silver platter with you he knows it’s gonna go on adds a lot… then again, you could —” this was a mistake to ask about. she isn’t losing steam anytime soon.  

[impending-day]

Why Three Legged Dog by The Bengsons is a DL!Pearl song, an essay

hello, people of tumblr. i propose to you this.

i will be touching on the following points throughout this essay:

the dog metaphor

the dependency of another person

various other lyricism examples

the vocal quality

1. The Dog

if you cant tell, this song is called three legged dog. the singer, abigail, talks about being a dog caught in a trap (could be interpreted as the life series, or the specific soulmate aspect. more on that later). there isnt much more to it. shes a dog caught in a trap, and shes gonna chew off her foot to get free.

2. The Trap

her soulmate, scott, left her. and she never got over it, no matter how hard she wanted to, thanks to the soulmate mechanic. she was left hurt and stranded, forced to make do with the situation she found herself in.

now for some lyrics:

When we met, I broke in pieces And half of me went into you When you go, my shards will scatter Half of me is dying too

this is peak double life pearl. absolute peak double life pearl. she lost part of herself seeing scott and cleo team. she actively hurt herself, just so scott would hurt too. but in that, the same applies. when scott gets hurt, so does she.

I'm supposed to just keep walking I'm supposed to just move on No, I can't breathe without him l'll be nothing, yeah, I'1l be nothing yeah Oh when he's gone, when he's gone

she makes it her mission to mess with scott. she practically goes insane messing with scott. shes stuck like glue to him, even when he kept brushing her off for someone else.

l'Il be a pile of salt I'll be a river of salt

same as before: she doesnt get over his betrayal. at all. she holds that grudge- she holds lots of grudges- until the end of the line.

3. Other Lyrics

if im being honest, for these i dont have reasons. take them as they are. they fit.

I'm a dog in a trap I'm gonna chew off my foot And leave it behind Leave it behind in the ashes and in the soot

kinda fitting. you see it right.

I can't do it anymore I'm not strong enough for this I never, I never said that I could Well I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I Can't I can't I can't I can't I'm sorry

more on this in the fourth section.

I could leave this pain, I could leave this pain behind I could leave this behind Erase, erase my mind, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna rip my flesh I'm gonna, I'm gonna set myself Free! Free...

4. The Delivery

abigail is an incredibly talented vocalist. the track begins with her singing in a rather reserved way, but once she starts talking about the pain of the trap, the intensity picks up.

i would love to note the delivery of "i'd be a three legged dog." she says it three times in a row, and each has its own emotion. the first is ruefully factual, the second is the weight settling in, the third is cracking under the pressure.

and then comes the "i can't do it anymore" lines. theyre delivered in a way where you can hear the pain shes going through. its almost difficult to listen to because of how raw they are. they only get more unhinged when the other party is mentioned, such as the "half of me is dying, too" line.

she sounds desperate to "leave this pain behind," especially in the "erase, erase my mind" line (one of my favorites). and once she does, theres a moment of pause. the acknowledgement that she set herself free in one way, but part of her remains stuck.

thus, the "i'm supposed to just keep walking" lines, all the way to the end. shes still so bitter to the person who did this to her. she laments becoming a three legged dog, though it gave her freedom.

overall, one of my favorite vocal performances of all time.

and with that, my essay concludes. thank you for reading 🫡