#...i could write a part two...

[akunoniwa]

Reconciliation

AN: i really like the priest trope y'all and dottore continues to plague my being.

Synopsis: In which you confess to your earnest, local priest about your most wretched sins...

Pairing: Priest!Il Dottore x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, he's a priest all of the sudden... for some reason..., dirty (blabbing) talk, mutual masturbation ig, you two just drive each other mad

WC: ~2.7k

Also, if anyone is interested, for the last couple years I have been curating a playlist of Evil, Macabre, Scheming classical that I usually write to. You can find it here! (Spotify :/)

Dottore himself may possess a universe-worth of deranged secrets, but his malevolence was the most obvious truth of all.

He’d be a resourceful and dutiful liar, a rehearsed cosmopolitan who knows what to say to get not just underneath your frail blouse, but your skin. He’d often get hyperboles thrown his way, how he must be able to read minds… Surely… That is impossible, right?

How Dottore managed to slip in through the ancient cracks of the Church of Favonius, one could not trace with their finger alone, as he found a special way to bypass the seminary. Growing morbidly bored in his lab as his segments took care of the more ‘menial’ things, he had a thought, twisted and contorted as usual: Where could he get a true, mouth-watering taste of humanity, bare and earnest before him? Naturally, a church is a place where sin may be denounced, but in a sense is romanticized and encouraged in its fashionable banishment. How he’d not considered this his first time around was… Perhaps a symptom of his inability to have all of himself in one place, both cognitively and literally speaking.

Dottore couldn’t merely walk into the cathedral in search of employment, however. The fame he’d acquired was not for his victories, but rather his shortcomings, though the public wouldn’t discern them beyond atrocities, successful or not. While the Fatui had strange footholds in every part of Teyvat, his presence would not be shrugged off, especially should Seamus get word of his meanderings.

His plan, then, was simple– dispose of a working, familiar priest, and he could replicate him as he’s done before in Inazuma, promptly and quietly taking his place. The edges of his ears tingle with anticipation as he imagines all of the degeneracy and blasphemy he’d bear witness to in confession, perhaps he could absorb some inspiration for other projects… Or so he initially thought before you started coming to him for ‘advice’, blotting his mind with a different genre of filth.

In the confessional, he’s able to indulge in hearing various grim sins and tales, his tarnished soul getting off on the compiled suffering in one way or another. His coos of nurturing advice would aptly dilute any evidence of that, though, as he had a reputation to maintain. Besides, he wouldn’t be able to hear your most vile fantasies should he somehow get removed.

You came in routinely, your voice shrouded in its faux shame, so close to his ear as it was only separated by a mere wooden screen. He could damn near feel your tongue as it pushed your impure thoughts to him on its crests and troughs. He was well aware of your intentions, convinced you’d not step foot on church grounds were it not to hand-feed him samples of your depravities. The image of you kneeling, in such a decadent position while you granted him whispers of obscenities, made it hard to restrain a grin of utter, vulgar satisfaction.

Knowing who was approaching next, he allowed himself to loosen his grip on his character only slightly, “My… I never would’ve expected your prompt return…”

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” Your voice crept beautifully through the holes of the screen like a miasmic mist. He allowed his still-unfamiliar title slipping past your lips prick chills all over his body, the blatant implications of hierarchy stoning him.

This was all between you two anyhow, so he decided to play with you to his content, “I can only imagine.” His true voice, too, lingered like smoke through to your ears, dense yet airy, “Perhaps the Lord will find it within His grace to admonish you of your consistently licentious behavior… Tell me, dear, what ails you?”

“I just can't seem to stop thinking about you, Father…” You always had a hard time dropping the guise immediately, as if you haven’t shared these thoughts with him numerous times before.

You heard him shift, his robes moving slowly about his tensed, upright form, your voice drowning him when it was shaped in such a needy tone, “Ah… Quite the predicament, indeed. You know this is a safe place for you to air your sins out into the open, you must proclaim them clearly to Him.”

Your light giggle sent wakes of delirium through him, “I could never conceal my true self from you, Father… Although, I find myself wondering if you’re really an envoy of God or a spawn from Hell.”

“You wound me, darling, deeply so, though that will not divert my faith and divine purpose to ensure your merciful forgiveness.” He improvised artlessly, your implications alone rustling his guts, a friction he was growing addicted to. His entire being salivated at the thought of what mangled ideas you’d bring right to his feet. How you returned to him, beckoning for attention like a crow as you’d gift him with gleaming desire.

“A true messenger of God’s word would surely not get giddy at the thought of fucking one of their devotees… Wouldn’t you agree?” Your words were somewhat daring on your part, as you couldn’t entirely surmise just who was inches from you, but he has more than revealed his insatiable lechery.

You swore you could feel his breath through the screen as he pushed out an arrogant chuckle through his nose, as if there were no other place for you but the palm of his hand, “It’s that very thing, your passionate devotion, that compels Him. Though it seems you’re trying to parry attention away from your misdeeds…”

You noted, much to your pleasure, how he didn’t deny your accusation, “It’s just… Often when I go to pray before bed, I get distracted…”

“It’s entirely normal to get distracted,” He briefly paused, you could almost feel the breath that was perched in his throat in your own, “Perhaps you’re neglecting a piece of your conscience, an inherent part of yourself that you’ve yet to reconcile with.”

An inherent slut, that’s what he thought. How you come in here weekly only to tempt him, your mind is devoted to nothing nearly akin to a god. Truly exquisite.

You continued a bit more blatantly, toying with him, “That could be… It’s so hard to not lose my train of thought when I’m on my knees and can’t think of anything but your voice in place of His.”

His body was bleeding soot, he felt a build-up of carnal animosity trickle into his veins as you spoke, “Is that so… Was I not conveying His word as I usually do, darling?”

Your knees were quickly growing sore from kneeling, but the pain was blunted by the dull buzzing in your abdomen, “If His words are usually detailing what terrible things he’d like to do to me, but I can’t be so sure…”

His legs inadvertently parted, weakening upon your implications, a heat radiating between them that he wished was due to your body being between them. He was trying with every atom that built him to keep his hands in a neutral position on his thighs, but so desperately wanted to alleviate the growing strain in his slacks, “Terrible, indeed… I think you’re not truly allowing Him to touch you, darling, letting Him resonate deep inside you…” His veiled smirk ought to run laps around his entire face as he shuffled through his deck of delirious innuendos. He just enjoyed the theater of it all as his hands clawed at polyester.

While his acting was laughable from a more rational perspective, you were too intoxicated with want to mind and his prods were becoming too potent, “You may be right, Father,” You hoped to any higher power that calling him that was fucking with him. Not being able to see him was making you spiral, the need to merely touch him was stacking as you were beyond yourself before even making it to the church. Being that his voice was all you knew, you were sure that should he actually graze your skin, you’d be all the more susceptible to his antics.

As much as he likes to indulge in teasing you, he so badly wanted to drop the act that you’ve both rehearsed so many times before and insist that you meet him on this side of the screen. Your honeyed voice is always shredding him to dust, his mind disintegrating at the thought of how reprehensible it’d be to take you right here in the confines of the confessional box. Look him in the eyes from your precious, kneeled perspective and tell him how far from God you’ve fallen, how your repentance can only be properly demonstrated on his cock. Your delectable moans would drip right into his ear as he takes you, making your sex the only sacrament you’ll ever require.

“Father?” You called to him through his mental escapade delicately, his silence unsettling in several ways, though it seems you’d successfully wedged your way into his head.

“Yes, darling.” His ability to respire becomes all the more taxing, the facade threatening to shatter as he almost forgets his role for a moment.

“Could you… Do me a favor?” Curling, winding, your vague presence was constricting around him so deliciously.

“What is it…?” You already had him at the heel of each consonant. You debated in your fantasies what you’d lose yourself over more: Being told what to do, or telling him what to do… Did you have to choose?

You bared your fanged will, “I know you want to touch yourself desperately, if you’re not already…” You began, confident in your assumptions as you heard an eroded breath tumble from his lips, “Could you do that for me…?”

His brows collided in a furrow, dumbfounded with how forward you were finally being, “Of course, darling…” He easily committed, “Anything to bestow God’s love, even to the undeserving…”

He didn’t care to hold back his heady exhale upon finally kneading a palm into his already well-hardened cock, cuffing it now and then to outline the silhouette through his pants. You, too, let him in on your movements, ensuring he heard your sweet, lofty mewls as your fingers padded your clit ever so slowly.

“How do you feel, Father… Tell me…” You sang to him, oh how he wished he could see your flushed face, how you urged him to pleasure himself.

“I know it wouldn’t compare to your vile little mouth.” He groaned through another wavered exhale, “I would go as far as to guess you were wet before you got down on your knees, before you got to this Church, thinking about how badly you want to be fucked in such a sacred place…” Saying this knowing damn well how his body faltered at the sight of your name being rightfully branded on his list for another confession.

“Maybe that’s just how I show my devotion, Father…” You bit your lip as your clit gradually stiffened with need, cycling just the right spot, hardly able to resist rutting into your hand.

“Fuck, and you keep calling me that,” His grip tightened, though he’d not let himself free from his constraints yet.

“Is that not what you are? Or are you, God forbid, hiding something?” You pressed him in unison with your hand.

Him revealing his true identity would benefit no one, including you, but something about being able to fuck you as his true self set him ablaze. His expression tightened into one of brief apprehension, he could feel the knocking of his heart in his throat– There’s no feasible way you’d know who he is…

“Of course,” He assured himself more than anyone else, “But when you say it the way you do, in that sickening little whine of yours… It’s too good, darling, too much.” You reeled as you could hear the grin that tugged at his lips, though the struggle to maintain composure between you is what spoiled you.

“Are you moving… Fast or slow?” You forced him to elaborate, though your voice only continued to dwindle.

“Painfully slow…” His hips instinctually rose and fell in his vice grip, “I wish it were any part of you, darling… Your hand, your pretty mouth… Maybe you’d be sitting in my lap…” He mused wickedly.

You hummed in a whisper, “I wish I could touch you…” You decided to admit, “What would you want me to do to you, Father…?” You dug your interrogation into him as you wandered to your cunt, overflowing with slick need as two fingers dove inside in a curl. How you could have his cock pushing through you right in this moment but you both opted for this pitiful demonstration instead…

He adored how you were tearing yourself apart for him, desperation infecting your words, “Perhaps I’d want you to start with your hand in place of mine so you could realize how utterly insane you make me feel… How hard I am for you with just your voice alone, darling.” The rhythm of his breaths was becoming more hasty, the timbre of his voice growing more tangy as his lust snuck through the confines of his weakening dignity.

“Fuck, I really just wanna feel your hot lips wrapped around me, that filthy mouth of yours… Your flattened tongue running against the underside…”

You egged him on with a moan of approval, his mental painting distracting your movements from exceeding a slow massage inside you, “That sounds so good, I want to be the one making you feel good…”

On that note, he found himself needing to corrupt you. Requiring it. It was a perfect setting to do so, beheld in the eyes of sanctity at its most intense. It made him want to rip his own heart out, how this feeling ravaged his entire being. He wanted to be the only one who could make you feel like you served a purpose, symbiotic destruction as he’d fuck you until you could recall nothing else but the sensation of his cock filling you to the most dizzying brim. As much as he wanted you to worship him, he found the prospect of making you ascend with pleasure more gratifying.

“I bet you’d be the kind to get off on me fucking your mouth, neglecting your aching little cunt…” He loved denying himself the raw contact with his cock, but it was becoming quite the task to uphold as he moved to fumble with his belt buckle.

Your face managed to insulate itself with a blush that, should he have seen it, he would’ve taken you upon first notice, “I’d want you to grip my hair, forcing me to keep eye contact…”

“Good, darling, now you’re imagining… How I’d make you gag looking right into your eyes, as that’s only what you deserve for punishment’s sake.” He managed to free himself from his slacks, with no patience to adjust himself beyond his length protruding through the opening of his fly. Your shallow pants were so close to his ear, through the fine holes of the screen he hallucinated a face to imagine. He watched the apparition of you sway and twitch as you were barely able to remain upright while your fingers pumped inside you.

“Do you often touch yourself in prayer, darling?” He ventured.

“Only if it’s to you… Your voice truly haunts me, especially when you tell me all of this worthless shit, I just… Can’t help myself, Father.”

“I think of you all the time, how close we are right now, how I could fucking destroy you but we continue like this anyway.”

“Why don’t you come out of your little box and fuck me then?”

His damned laugh that drove you up the vaulted cathedral walls sounded once more, wondering how long he could be stowed away like this. It is Sunday after all, but perhaps this schedule 10 minutes before mass was intentional. Dottore was adeptly full of himself as he’d not mind if your screams were heard over the choir, in fact, that’d be ideal. While the confessional wasn’t in the main hall, it wasn’t secluded enough to dampen how his hips would assault the skin of your behind as he took you…

Your offer was too divine to refuse.

[cairafea]

my favourite genre of seventeen is when they're straight up lying

ref:

[the-gom-jabbar]

The whole genetics project of the Bene Gesserit may have been dubbed a failure because Paul wasn't a girl but there was nothing stopping Paul and Feyd-Ruatha acting on that sexual tension they had in both book and film.

Paul could have taken Feyd as a third Consort. Just imagine Paul with his Empress Irulan and his wife Chani sitting at his side and Feyd just sprawled on the dais steps just wearing something scandalous like

You were right Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, wasted potential.

[xy-is-i]

Just thinking about Dick freaking out over losing his title of best uncle to Jason.

Dick showing up to take Lian out and give Roy a break only to hear she's having a fun day with Jason

Dick walking into the room with the toy he knows Lian really wanted, only to find out Jason got it for her first.

Dick showing up to game night at Roy's only to find Jason already there.

Just Dick getting increasingly frustrated and his rival Jason having no clue well the the rest watch on in humor and exasperation. Roy finds the who thing hilarious.

Picturing it all coming to a head when Dick is babysitting Lian and she shows him a new photo they put up. Dick all dejectivly being like, "look, it's you and your favorite uncle."

The pure shock and joy he feels when Lian tells him he wrong and her favorite uncle is "you uncle Dickie, duh!"

The door opening and Lian shouting "Papa!" As dick turns to excitedly tell Roy what Lian said only to see it's Jason who's holding Lian.

Dick just bluescreening.

[kessilover]

Mergana AU (Part 1 maybe):

After healing her with the help of the Great Dragon, Morgana wakes up thinking that she is married to Merlin.

[throughdarkeningskies]

one small thing I like about the starless sea is the whole thing of like. even if you fuck up and miss opportunities and don't make the right choices wonderland will wait for you. maybe the magical adventure of a lifetime comes to you later, when you aren't a child anymore, and maybe that's for the better. magic as something that spans a lifetime. adventure and wonder as something that can drop into your life anytime, anywhere

[svtskneecaps]

lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

[ssseashell]

my newtmas headcanons (because i saw some people posting their own hc's and had to share mine)

these are mostly based on a modern setting scenario, but some can be pictured in canon aswell ^__^ 🐈🐈‍⬛

thomas has dimples, newt has freckles

thomas has brown hazel-ish eyes, newt has dark brown eyes

thomas’ cheeks are naturally red and newt’s cheeks are pale and, sometimes, they turn pink

newt collects vinyls and books, thomas collects comic books and mini figures

thomas’ love language is ‘physical touch’, so he’s always touching newt; holding his hands, massaging his back, playing with the lobe of his ear, temple kisses, love bites, whatever.

newt’s love language is ‘words of affirmation’, so thomas receives ‘i love you’s and any other sweet words like 50 times a day (he also makes sure he says it a lot)

eye contact, lots of eye contact. especially before they were together

small touches

arms brushing against one another

fingers rushing against one another

thomas still is determined to count every freckle newt has in his face

kisses. all types of kisses. smiles between kisses / slow kisses / messy kisses / following a kiss on the lips with a series of kisses down the neck / kisses that were meant to be gentle, ending up in devout passion / long kisses that leave them breathless and flustered

hugs. a lot of hugs. all types of hugs.

they know everything about each other

newt loves playing with thomas’ hair. he cut his hair once. never again

thomas has terrible memory, newt remembers everything

newt likes to draw and paint, thomas likes to make music (he knows how to play the guitar)

newt’s fav color is green, thomas’ fav color is red

they read together sometimes, each with their own book – but thomas is usually the one to get bored first, so he just lays on newt’s lap while newt plays with his hair and reads his book aloud for him

thomas likes to run late at night and when he’s back he just wants to sleep and cuddle, but newt won’t touch him until he’s showered

sometimes thomas comes home with some cut or injury from running and newt takes care of him every time

newt gets sick easily, so thomas had to learn how to take care of him. newt: don’t touch me, i’m all sick / thomas: i don’t care

newt, to thomas: if i hear you sing to heathers in the shower again i’ll join you just to drown you

every time they kiss in a stairwell, thomas makes sure he’s on a higher step so, for some seconds, he’s taller than newt

newt makes thomas trade their food when he likes the brunet’s better

thomas, when cuddling: “i’m hungry” / newt: “i’m not moving”

thomas had this bad habit of biting into his nails when he’s anxious or stressed, newt hates it

when newt is crying because of stress or anger, thomas licks his cheeks to catch his tears and never fails to make the blond chuckle

newt discovered he loves thomas on a random tuesday night. they were dancing and singing with their friends and thomas slipped on air and fell on his butt, and newt was like yeah, he’s so dumb. i do love him

they like to bake their friends’ birthday cakes together as part of their present (thomas is awful at the kitchen, so all he does is basically put the candles on top of the cake once it’s done

thomas is that person to be excitedly yapping in bed about his day and then, in two seconds, is falling asleep mid sentence because he’s so tired. and newt just giggles every time it happens, and kisses his forehead passionately before also falling asleep

sometimes newt feels so homesick it hurts, so thomas does all he can to cheer him up with silly little things, like watching newt’s favorite english movies or listening to songs he listened to when he was a kid, or having a tea party playdate where they pretend they are from the english royalty (yes, it’s so stupid

thomas: damn, it’s like my mom likes you better than me

thomas’ hand is smaller

they both love all rom coms, romantic comedies and christmas classics so, every week precisely, they buy all the sweet treats they want and make popcorn and choose something to watch together (even if it’s not christmas, even if it’s something they’d watched 1000 times already

[teecupangel]

I have been violently gripped with the idea of a CODxAC Crossover, where Ghost and the 141 stumbling across an Isu facility. They spread out to search the ruins and Ghost ends up in a vast open room containing pods. There are hundreds of them in neat rows, but only one seem to contain something. Infant twins bearing the numbers 16 and 17 on their right and left shoulder respectively. On the side of the pod there is some text carved into the metal itself. '16=Clay 17=Desmond. TRUST ONLY 141'. Reading it gives Ghost a deep chill. Before he can think further on it, the pod starts to empty and open. The kids open their eyes and stare at him with eyes he swears glow, but in a blink it's gone. Must have been his imagination. The place suddenly rumbles and his radio comes to life.

"Ghost, get out of there! Think we might have activated a self destruct sequence!"

Before he can think too hard about it, Ghost grabs the kids and starts running while chunks of the ceiling falls down around him. Strangely enough the kids don't make any noise at the rough treatment or the violent shaking and noise.

---------

So yeah, thanks to Saberamane, i have gotten into reading CoD fanfics. XD I remembered your fic on it and then i was just violently gripped with the image of a baby Desmond reaching his little hands up at Ghost and when he holds Desmond up to his face, the baby just places his hands on the mask and stares at it while smiling. Anytime anyone, besides 141, tries to take Desmond or Clay they start to fuss and/or scream bloody murder, so the gangs kinda stuck baby sitting. Well, more like Ghost with Soap's help. Price is busy trying to figure out why the General(idk enough about the lore, so unnamed General it is XD) is really interested in taking the kids. They lied about them being found inside the pods and said they found the dead body of a woman with the kids, so the interest in them is strange. Plus the ominous message written in the pod seems important. Ghost hates him, gets a strange sense of... Red??? from him.

So yeah, another hyperfixation it is. XD

If this is the reboot, he started as Lieutenant General and ends up as a General. In the OG though, Shepherd was Lieutenant General until his death.

We can set it up that Desmond and Clay are testtube babies Elijah created but Abstergo was hot on his tail so he ‘tipped off’ 141 of the location and lying of its connection to a secret terrorist organization.

Well…

It wasn’t necessary a lie because 141 is trying to find the Brotherhood. In the eyes of the world, the Brotherhood is a terrorist organization and 141 is tasked with finding their operations and stopping them.

In this one, Shepherd could either be a Templar, an ally of the Templar or (use the setup of The Shadow’s Endgame) a disillusioned Assassin gone rogue.

He doesn’t immediately clocked the babies Ghost took in as Desmond and Clay. Hell, Ghost knows well enough not to officially call them Desmond and Clay, instead going nicknames like ‘D’ and ‘C’. Soap and Gaz had been calling them different names to try and find out their actual names and they haven’t hit any jackpot yet.

Shepherd is interested in taking in the kids because he learned that the facility they attacked (which was nearby the supposed village that got wiped out during the operation) was Elijah’s secret lab.

Although they all believe Elijah to be dead so the place is actually for an unknown ‘third party’.

Abstergo believed that person is the current Sage, having awakened Aita’s memories after Elijah’s death.

So the question becomes why did Elijah decide to entrust Desmond and Clay to 141?

Because he was planning to infiltrate 141 later on.

As the new recruit of 141: Gary "Roach" Sanderson

[insomnya777]

do you guys know that youtube dating show called the button. because i was watching it with my friend the other day bc we were bored and we were like this seems funny and i somehow got a boat boys fic idea based off of it. so if i make a fic about the button dating show will people underdtand or is it too niche

[puppyeared]

its so hard to watch time pass when things like careers and assignments exist. what do you mean im supposed to take that seriously

[rainbowresurrection]

Kinda got a love/hate relationship with the history of K/S because it's like. Can I please have a queer discussion about this 1960s television show without it being reduced to "shipper discourse". I thought Spock and Kirk were homo long before I knew that their characters spawned a fanfiction counterculture. The bisexual dude who wrote the episode that really kick-started the movement didn't know it was going to coalesce into the fan phenomenon that it did, he was just writing what he knew how to write best: the repression of burning male desire, and two dudes doing homoerotic shit. Can I just talk about the repressed burning male desire please, and the implications of a gay angle to Kirk and Spock's story, without it being referred to as shipper discourse. Can I do that. Does this make sense

[ryukyuin]

Heyy😭 Idk if this is dumb but idk if you do fanfics! If you do can you do Yandere shaiapouf x reader headcanons! I am a fem but the reader can ofc be gender neutral:3

I DO HELLOOO !! Yandere Shaiapouf is a very silly concept to be because just... ??? Is it just me or is he really barely toeing the line. For the other ants it seemed moreso "devotion" but just. Pouf. POUF... sighhs.

assume pre-established relationship btw this man has to go through all six stages of grief before he accepts he loves a STINKY HUYMAN... this just isn't the place to write allat

WARNINGS: Mentions of blood, "yandere" behaviors/tendencies, unhealthy mindsets, dead animals (non-graphic), Shaiapouf idolizing violence/depictions of him wanting to fucking maul people GFHDSAH

HIS LOVE LANGUAGE IS ACTS OF SERVICE!! despite all the flowery bullshit he might say later on n the relationship, you'll always know how he's really feeling by his body language and what he goes through with.

there's so little shaiapouf content that its soooo fun to just make up stuff for him. little habits and ticks and sounds he makes as he goes about his day....

have you heard abt the orange cracker butterfly? you will now (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=01hjJ4EhWtI)

that shit sounds like a TASER and they make that noise to tell other male butterflies to fuck off from their territory.

.........yes shaiapouf makes irritated taser sounds in public. yes you've almost gotten kicked out of places because workers think you're threatening patrons with a taser.

peppering his face in kisses until he calms down....... he starts warbling and chittering and his pupils dilate and he melts. three bajillion s/o points if you cusp his face in your hands and just rest your forehead against his afterward.

i think he'd give you dead animals as gifts, especially if you were too skinny for his liking. youre his monarch, his ruler, his sovereign, of course he'd find the best of the best for you! it's okay if you don't know how to skin them, he can take care of the gore himself, blood shouldn't grace your hands!

the level of dejected he looks when you turn him down is unfair in every sense of the word. you could have kicked a box of puppies and he would have looked less hurt. he probably would have white-knighted for you and said the puppies deserved it, actually

if blood DID grace your hands however,,,, god,,,,,,,,

him grabbing your arm, pressing kisses to the inside of your bloody wrist before lapping up every trace of red marring your skin......

DO NOT ASK ME ABT HOW HE'D BE DURING YOUR CYCLE!!!!! THE WORLD ISN'T READY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! /silly /nsrs

THIGHS THIGHS THIGHS THIGHHSS MMMMMFF.... i think its less about him being a thighs man and moreso that he'd enjoy just resting his head there. it doesn't matter how much shorter you are than him, he'd still contrort himself just to rest his head there as your hand cards through his hair......

okay time for the actual yandere headcanons, you didn't think he could just be cute and kissable and slutty, did you 🤨🤨🤨🤨

he REALLY likes pressing himself as close as possible to you, to watch the way you squirm in the iron shackle of his grip before he lets you go

because don't get it wrong-- he LET you go. shaiapouf finds it entrancing sometimes, the way he can feel your bones grinding together in your hand when he squeezes it too tightly, letting go the moment you yelp and pressing kisses to your knuckles until you complain at him for being the gooiest sap on the planet

micro-manages. god he micro-manages. he'll do the dishes, clean entire rooms, get rid of the old food in the fridge that he knows you're never going to eat despite saying you'd get around to it....

it feels... gross sometimes? you'll be laying in bed, sitting on the couch, at the kitchen counter, and he's just..... been working.

he looks so sad if you try and stop him though. he just wants to help, you know?

it doesn't matter if he's throwing away the clothes that you hide away your body with, stained and threadbare. they're your comfort clothes? that's okay, he'll get you better ones-- or even better, maybe you'd like to try on his own? he's sure you'd look adorable in them <33

it doesn't matter if he's slowly working out your chipped and dented dishes for fine china, delicate crystalware that clinked softly whenever he plated a meal for you. polished silver gleamed from your cutlery drawer, and you were a little scared that your knives would give you a thousand tiny cuts if you even breathed in their direction.

but thats okay, isn't it? he just wants the finer things in life for you... you do like his gifts, right? he worked so hard to get them!

you ask and you ask and you ask, and he never... quite tells you where he goes when he leaves, humming about it being 'confidential' and not to worry your pretty head about it before nuzzling against your temple .

he's not... trying to get rid of your comfort items, to warp your safe spaces. but if you come running into his arms, cuddle against his chest a little more often, well.

that's perfectly fine with him <333

just... don't worry about the speckles of blood on his clothes, the red marring his lips, pretty please? he'll lick the gore from his fangs, peel his clothes from his skin and toss them into the laundry basket before worshipping your body.

don't think about anything else. just him.

loves loves loveessss nipping at your skin...... if you're a chubbier s/o then i'm sure he'll ADORE you.

don't say anthing self-deprecating about your body around him. a gleam will enter his eyes, something dark and menacing before he's laving his tongue across your skin, leaving you squirming and breathy...........

he just really really likes how you look when your skin is littered with bruises and hickeys!!!! when his teeth sink in a little too deep, he'll whisper apologies into your skin, lapping at each droplet and pressing open-mouthed kisses until you're a giggling mess

ermmm anyways let me stop hornyposting this is the yandere part he gets SO SUPER IRRITATED WHEN YOU DO SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T MEET HIS IMAGE OF YOU!!

he SAYS he loves you but...... he can't understand you sometimes, why you'd shiver and start tearing up when he entertains the idea of viserally ripping someone to shreds whom he thought had personally wronged you a few minutes prior

in his mind you're his liege, the thing he worships and protects and lavishes n anything he can offer, he simply can't comprehend the way you start to shy away from him in fear when he entertains any of these ideas too long.

oh, he'll excuse it as instincts, his culture even. he's more than aware of how humans function, their benign society and rules that they keep in place and enforce, but oh.... he's so sorry for asking to rip off the arm of the mailman just because his fingers brushed against yours as he passed a letter to you, to sew his mouth shut with silk thread just because he complimented your appearance.

it was commonplace in his culture, you must understand-- to make moves towards what was very clearly someone else's partner simply wasn't to be tolerated.

ohh, how he wanted to pinch your cheeks and snatch you up from the way your face adorably scrunched up, right before you asked him how the grocer asking credit or debit was making a move.

guyyyysssss he's so sillyyyyyy please just stay with him and vcudlde with hijm in bed and dont think about anyone else ever

[icewindandboringhorror]

Just curious what the average level of personal investment in these sorts of things is. Like, how much do people usually get into silly stuff like this their friends ask of them? etc. etc. Which I know, only surveying a small sample on a very specific website means I'm not getting an exact average idea lol, but.. curious nonetheless .. Maybe reblog for bigger sample size but also this is not very serious at all/not worth a call to action gbhjbhjb

[aria0fgold]

Seared like a songbird flying to the sun

A belated birthday gift for @misty-wisp ! Tried to combine references for both Swan Lake and Cendrillon >:3 (Linked the English cover I took the lyrics from for the title!)

[glambots]

Kind of a personal HC, but I really like the idea that Moon speaks in "we/us" pronouns and Sun speaks with "I/He" pronouns. Moon is constantly of the mind-set that he's a part of the DCA and no matter how badly Sun wants to pretend that he can, he can't just erase him from existence. And Sun, of course, wants to do what he can to try and separate himself from Moon as much as possible. Sure, he's technically him, but He's the other him, which makes him not as bad, right?!