junpei for blorbo game !
just wanna say yall r insane for sending jundori in a row. great work oomfies
favorite thing about them: he's like the funniest character ever AND the realest in sees. hes also just like me fr soooo
least favorite thing about them: this one is tricky bc i think his buzzcut is peak puerto rican junpei evidence but also brooo why 😭 but its okay bc he grows it for p4au BLESS
favorite line: "I'm sorry for making you feel afraid." IN THE P3 MOVIE..... literally makes me wanna start clawing up the walls. its literally not his fault at all but when she says shes scared of death and losing him he HUGS HER and APOLOGIZES... APOLOGIZES FOR MAKING HER FEEL THAT WAY... its over yall
brOTP: yukari and him :)
OTP: JUNDORIII >>>>>>
nOTP: uhhhh idrk. ig maybe him and aigis??? cause i just cant see any romantic feelings there but. its not like im a hater if u do i just dont see it.
random headcanon: i think itd be really cute if he learns to cook post-canon. like the 3rd years graduate and they were prolly doing a lot of the cooking, so he dusts off his moms copy of cocina criolla, puts on that apron, and gets to WORK
unpopular opinion: his hater era makes him a more likable and respectable character. like a lot of the people saying hes a bad character bc of that would do the exact same in his shoes
song i associate with them: torero by chayanne OR waste by foster the people. couldnt choose so u can have the bilingual choices LOOL
favorite picture of them:
classic. geesh is that gonna be that big when i post it. well u never know until u press send
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my love and my controller
dogboy headcanons ig
gender neutral reader
Dog is a man’s best friend, but fae are far from being a man’s best friend. But the juxtaposition of a dangerous being of the night, a creature that could drain you of your life or enchant you to a madness so sickening that you would have no choice to surrender, and that of a beast that wants nothing more than to lay at your feet and place his head in your lap is one that delights you all the same. There is no reward without risk, no pleasure without pain, and in love, there is no adoration without some variation of war.
Malleus is far from a docile and gentle dog; he demands your respect, and it’s only when he knows he has it that he dares bow his head to you. He’s a prince, and as naïve as he can be at times, he acknowledges his duty before he acknowledges his heart, so this pretense is merely a show for him to soothe over the guilt resting in his heart before he carves the sensation of your hand deep into his skin.
Your faintest hint of domestication is when it’s late at night. If you sit by the edge of your bed and open up your arms to him, tempting him with honeyed eyes and even more honeyed words, he’ll naturally fall into place with you. You can’t even fathom the power you have over him: the prince of the night kneeling in front of you, groveling for your attention like the touch-starved mutt he is, willing to conquer the world seven times over if it means he can feel your lips touch his forehead.
The final sign of surrender comes when something clicks against his neck and his breathing grows shallow. What sort of spell did you cast on him, dearest child of man? How far did he fall in his degeneracy, to let his guard down enough to let you place a collar on him? The fae heir dares to question you momentarily before the possessive gleam in your eyes has him backing down, swapping his dignity for one more warm touch that melts him away completely, transforming the dragon of legend into nothing more than a lapdog for you to entertain yourself with.
“A prince? This is not what a prince should do, child of man. Yet you make me submit to this carnage over and over again, and despite knowing it’s wrong, no complaint rises to my lips.”
You’ve never met someone so capricious before, and it wouldn’t be too far-fetched for you to believe him to be a cat before he was a dog. But the magic of the supernatural exists in a realm beyond your comprehension, and you know all too well that to venture too deep into a place where you weren’t permitted would leave you in the position of the conquered rather than the conqueror. So it was best to take Lilia as he was: mischief and all, secrets and all, mysteries and all.
Lilia loves to tease the boundary, wondering how far he can go under the guise that he’s nothing more than an innocent puppy that doesn’t know right from wrong. Whether that means waking up tangled in your sheets or stealing you away as he must have done with countless other hearts before you were even brought into conception depended on the day, but regardless, like a dog unleashed, he dragged you around to and fro, taking and giving whatever he pleased.
A dog is still a primal animal at the end of the day, bred from hunters that knew danger as if it were the back of their paw, and that combined with his past avarice for the glory of his crown means a nature so monstrous at times that you’re left reeling. The stifling kisses and the carnal taste of a blood-tainted love are testimonies to the darkness swirling hidden by a softer facade, which you accepted without a second thought.
His collar is worn with pride, a means to an end that’ll surely leave you with either the highest of paradise or cast down like humanity thrown out of the blessed garden. You don’t care; Lilia is the best thing you’ve ever known. The way his tail wags, the way he begs for you, the way he stakes his claim on you are all part of the poison that you willingly drank, and it’s only a matter of time before the insignia of ownership that he has on his body transfers from his neck to yours.
“Am I yours, or are you mine? Are you asking because you’re curious or because you want to reaffirm your position? Fufu, you already know the answer to that, don’t you, Master?”
Vigilant, the essence of the moon, filled with aspirations, Silver is all you could ever ask for. He works quietly, swiftly, with a dedication that’s unmatched by anyone else, so long as he can fight off the curse that kisses his eyelids and lulls him into wandering back to the safety and warmth of your presence. How could you rebuke him? He slots himself into your arms, plunging himself into the depths of dreams until you would lure him back into the world of the living with a quiet coo and white promises.
Oblivious to his destiny yet hyperaware of his duties, the living metaphor that Silver is amuses you to no end. You watch him as he stands guard by your bed rather than his liege’s, you laugh at him as he looks to you for validation rather than his father, and you justify yourself with him as he pledges something more than simple servitude towards you. Love is such a difficult, fickle thing; it’s almost like he doesn’t recognize how deeply he’s fallen for you.
But when you pat his ears and whisper about how much of a dearly good boy he is, that’s when he acknowledges that he may be more animal than human. After all, no human would respond to such a demeaning hint of praise with flushed cheeks and wide eyes, lips parted as if to beg you for more, fingers curling around their own flesh in a futile attempt to cling to his pride and humanity, that he remain more of a lover than a pet in your eyes.
When he hears the ‘click’ of the collar around his neck and the feeling of your pointer finger pressing against his lips to shush him, Silver finally recognizes the gravity of his fall. Truly the shining star cast out of Heaven for failing to recognize the slice of bliss he had tasted, the once-noble knight faces his sin and readily gives himself up to you, bowing his head away from the crown and towards the image of you smirking above him, enjoying the spoils of the ruin he had made of himself and presented at your feet as both a sacrifice and a reward.
“I dedicate myself to you, to your safety, to your glory, to your happiness. Use me as you will, Master, for I exist as nothing more than a pet and a tool to carry out your will.”
The line between love and loyalty is a thin one. Sebek’s nothing more than a pup still stumbling over his own feet, let alone know what it means to throw himself into such a tumultuous battlefield like love and expect to escape unscathed. Lucky for him, you’re more than willing to show him the ropes, enticing him into a willing desperation with the promise of true love and an obsession so sweet that he would never come to his senses again.
He keeps his pride, piecing back together what you allow him to have, and you flip the title of soldier and knight and lover between your fingertips whenever you run your fingers through his hair and press your head against his chest, to hear his heartbeat and murmur about how much you love him. He has no choice but to love you with abandon, to cast aside his fae blood and his brilliant humanity to become a dog at your beck and call.
He guards you and protects you like it’s his life duty to do so, watching over you as you sleep and staying by your side in the day and warding off anything. Each hair on your head is precious, and each drop of blood you spill is the equivalent of his own body being harmed. He exists for you, and Great Seven be damned if this is where he fails. But Sebek doesn’t know failure, and he’s not going to change that anytime soon.
The collar is a vow he made to you, a vow that casts a shadow on the once bright light of his determination and tricked him away from the flowery path to the one filled with thorns. It doesn’t matter to him anyway; all he knows and soon, all he’ll ever know, is you. The tug of leather on his neck, right next to his pulse, is living proof of that, and whenever you yank on it to pull him close, he’s more than happy to oblige and take all of the traps and brambles that you’ve strewn around him in a show of both twisted love and tainted loyalty.
“Don’t cast me away, Master. I can do anything you want me to do. I can do so much more than what I’m doing right now for you. Have faith in me, just like you did at the beginning.”
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