#i’ve drawn a lot of his sibling’s design so i figured. sure time for grown up kego

[squoobest]

(warmup) thoughts about older design for eggboy/the glowing one

[mininky]

Nefarious Intentions

Summary: Life sometimes sucks. You’ve been stuck in that strange world that is adulting, questioning everything about life as you’ve gradually grown harder and harder to everything until one bland date brings you to a small record store and you meet him. Min Yoongi. In his very words, ‘not a good guy’ but he’s just too tempting to ignore. And safe, careful, planner you finds yourself wrapped up in the storm that is Yoongi.

Pairing: Min Yoongi X Reader

Genre: Smut, possibly the longest sex scene I have ever written, with bits of introspective romance?? I guess?

Word Count: 15.2K

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral (F giving and receiving), spanking, a hell of a lot of dirty talk, and as always from me, plenty of swearing.

A/N: This isn’t complete. You’ve been warned. It doesn’t leave off on like...a cliffhanger or anything, but I’ve had this bad boy sitting around for ages and I’m just too busy to finish any of my projects at the moment but a lovely friend of mine reminded me about this particular bad boy Yoongi fic and I felt that I owed all of y’all who’s stuck around my very long bouts of radio silence a holiday present. Merry Christmas, you filthy animals.

   You can still clearly remember the first time you fell in love. It wasn't anything amazing or special, it wasn't some wonderful whirlwind romance always portrayed in stories and movies. But you can remember the butterflies, the way your skin warmed uncomfortably any time you held hands, the way your breathing grew uneven just from the smallest of hugs or stolen glances. Soft kisses when others weren't looking would send your head into the clouds. You can also remember the heartache, the way it felt as though everything had come crashing down when he moved on and you were stuck trying to pick up the pieces of your life. But you would eventually, and if there's anything that you've learned as you've gotten older it's that love changes entirely. Not just with each partner but also with wisdom. Where you once could talk about the innocence of love now it was sex, marriage, children, careers, half-assed dates, trying to decide if you could see yourself living with that person or if the relationship wasn't going anywhere after just a few months.

   Love used to just be. It just came one day, crept into your heart like a thief in the night but instead of taking anything it just took up space. Ahhh, what a way to live. Youth holds far more innocence than people realize. Growing up is a pain, the world becomes crueler and you start analyzing everything instead of just living. When did that happen? When did love become a strategic game rather than just an effervescent thing swirling around in the depths of your soul? When did you start worrying so much about keeping up with others around you?

   You weren't always all this doom and gloom. In fact, most people will say that on the outside you seem to be a very positive, kind person. A bit of a pushover. Always there to help. Some might say otherwise, that sure you're nice enough but you seem to have a wall up. Is that such a bad thing? Is it bad to want to protect yourself from the inevitable pain of having to move on? If you were to answer honestly, wholeheartedly, you probably started feeling this way a few years ago. After you watched your best friend walk down the aisle. So beautiful. So happy. And you were so fucking alone. Miserably alone. And you felt like a complete bitch for watching such a beautiful moment happen all while thinking selfishly about none other than yourself. And then everyone else moved on. They got married or moved in with their partners. They had children. Your siblings all got married. And then there's you. The forever bachelorette. The workaholic.

   If we remain on the topic of honesty, you aren't even sure you know what love is anymore. You can vaguely recall the innocence of days past. The earnestness of loving simply because you couldn't control it. But you can't describe it. How does one describe love? If you had asked the you of yester-year...fine, yester-decade...you would have said, "It just is. It's there one day and it strings you along for a wild ride and you just try your best as the shotgun driver to help steer this whole thing along." But the older, hopefully, wiser you? Well, now you see love as something more akin to a good game of chess. It's a strategy. A battlefield, a place where good plans should hopefully get you across the way but where other plans can foil you. Fucking Pat Benatar had it right, who would've guessed?

   You glance back up at your date, drawn out of your internal ramblings as the waiter passes by. This guy isn't the worst. He certainly isn't the best. On paper he's got everything going for a good future. He's a doctor, he seems nice enough, he has his own home. For fuck's sake, he even works at a free clinic one weekend a month just to help people. And he's obnoxiously handsome. It's your third date with him. But why is it that you just don't feel a spark with him? Maybe you should sleep with him, see how that pans out. That's one thought. On the other hand whenever a waiter passes by you desperately want to grab the check and run back to your sanctum away from this boring hell.

   "(Y/N?)" You blink back up at Shownu, giving a small awkward smile.

   "Sorry, I guess I didn't get enough sleep last night. I'm a little tired."

   He nods kindly, grabbing a passing waiter and paying the check before he resumes speaking with you. "It's okay, you just looked a little bored. I'm sorry I'm sure that cardiovascular disease is probably a boring topic to most."

   "Oh no, it's fascinating." Lies. It felt like he was trying to read to you from a textbook. "I'm just a bit out of it. I have a new client who's been more than a bit difficult and I've had to work almost around the clock to try to figure out what'll make them happy."

   "What do you do again?" Looks like you aren't the only one snoozing off when the other person's speaking. That's not a good sign.

   "I'm a graphic designer. This client, in particular, is a local coffee shop, they're rebranding themselves but apparently, the two owners are having a hard time agreeing with what direction they want to go in. I'll get a green light from one and a red light from the other and it's been almost a week of this now." You ruffle your hair aggravatedly before stopping. "Sorry, I didn't mean to talk so much about work, I'm sure it's boring."

   "A bit." My god dick, take a hint. You were trying to be polite earlier and here he is just openly calling your work boring. "But that's okay. You've got a lot on your plate. You drove here right?"

   "Yup, I guess I'll talk to you later." Another lie. You have no intention of contacting him again. Even if he is hot and a doctor. Your friends would call you crazy to not be interested in him. But is it so wild to want to enjoy your time with the other partner? When did the world become about saving face and looking good? Was it always this way and you were just ignorant? No. Naive would be a better word for you. You needed to grow thicker skin.

   Shownu doesn't even walk you to your car, not that you're bothered by it. You wanted to escape just as much as he did. Looks like you'll have to keep looking. Or maybe you should give up. Be a spinster. Widdle your days away in your work and be the fun aunt who comes around to steal stop signs and do dumb shit with your nieces and nephews. Yeah, that sounds a lot more like you than some boring marriage. Maybe. Or maybe you're just giving up. You can't tell. Maybe it's just the last glass of wine you had talking.

   You look around before getting in your car, your eyes spotting a small record store across the street. You've lived in the city for ten years, yet you've never seen this tiny little gem before. It's tucked away, a small poorly lit sign simply saying 'records.' It looks so unusual here, in the posher side of town. But ten years ago this place hadn't been gentrified. It's like this one little building is holding out, refusing to conform. Unwilling to yield with the times, refusing to be aesthetically pleasing for some woman who owns a teacup poodle and drinks overpriced syrupy coffee who needs perfectly paved roads and has to speak to the manager. And before you can understand what you're doing you're jaywalking your ass right over to it.

   It's cramped, wall to wall, row after row it's filled with vinyls of all colors. There's a few teenagers looking around, clearly affluent based off of their clothing but rebelling. At least that's what you're assuming based off of the designer clothing mixed with cheap hair dye and piercings. Ah, you remember those days. Except your clothes were hand-me-downs and goodwill finds. Maybe vinyls are cool again. You can remember thinking you were hot shit to finally get a walkman at a garage sale. CD's were already mainstream then but they weren't cheap. The kids at school didn't have pity on you for that. Not that it mattered to you, it felt like you finally had the whole world of music available to you whenever you wanted.

   It feels nostalgic to go through the records. You can remember the way your oldest brother would begrudgingly take you with while he flirted with girls in a different record store. It was the spot, where only the raddest kids hung out. And now here you are almost three decades later in another record store late at night with just a bored employee and two rich kids who think they're hot shit for being in on something that others aren't. Ah, youth.

   One record, in particular, pulls at you. You stop for a moment, thumbing it before gently picking it up. Christ, does wine give you all the yearning for nostalgia or are you just getting old? You'll go with the wine, it's a much more comforting thought than confronting your age right now. You want to hang this up. Remind yourself of who you were. Who you are. You've been losing sight. Maybe. It's hard to tell, life moves too fast the older you get. Or maybe it's that pesky malbec. The fact that you only had two glasses isn't important. You need a scapegoat for tonight. A way to ease this growing uncomfortable feeling in your chest. Like the world is falling apart and moving on and you're stuck somewhere. You aren't sure where. But you do know that you need this. So you march up to the register, the two brats in the shop trailing behind shortly after.

   The boy, no that's definitely a fully grown man, lazily gazes up at you before taking the record and scanning it. You'd call him cute, but his eyes look a bit too hardened for that word. He looks like he's seen some shit and doesn't hide it from the world. Like he's ready for a fight at all times and probably sleeps with one eye open just in case. He'd be the type to survive a zombie apocalypse. "I didn't realize we even had any Atmosphere records. Wow, that takes me back."

   "Ant really was ahead of his time. I mean, don't get me wrong, Slug is a great rapper, but the real key to their music was how Ant produced everything. Their new records are great too, but this one? This one's just a real gem."

   "Hmmm, look at you, corporate hotshot getting her panties in a twist over some nineties backpack rappers." His words drawl lazily, a sardonic smile curling up and showing the gums of his teeth as he places the record in a bag. "The world is full of surprises." You aren't even sure what to say as he hands the bag over to you, standing there with your mouth agape before he nods his head. "You gonna move lady? I've got other people waiting." The teens behind you snicker, and you harden your eyes for just a moment before grabbing the bag and marching out. What a dick. A total dick. Tonight's not your night. Christ, what were you even doing there? You don't even have a record player.

   You don't realize it until you get home twenty minutes later, still fuming as you pull the record out, that he's left behind his phone number on the receipt. "Call me when you're bored, Ms. Corporate." When did the fucker even get the time to do this? The little shit's fast. He didn't even give you his name. Why does that bother you so much? He was a dick. You shouldn't want to know his name. You go to rip up the receipt but for some reason you find yourself tacking it up on the fridge. Maybe you'll save it for a lonely, no scratch that, angry night. Reem his ass out for fun and then you'll tear it up. Yeah sure, that's why you're keeping it.

---------------------------------

   A week's gone by and you still haven't taken down that stupid receipt from your fridge. You haven't gone back to the shop either. You've been too busy, surviving off of ramen and egg sandwiches while working painfully long hours until you want to tear your hair out. You finally reach some semblance of agreement between the two owners, and you've finally finished working on their project. You got it done faster than anticipated, you just wanted them out of your life. But now you have only small projects in the meanwhile. And that's dangerous. Because free time keeps allowing your brain to wander back to him. If you're Ms. Corporate then he's Mr. Dick. You kind of wonder what his dick looks like, if it's big enough to back up his ego or not. You'd rather die than admit that. Shit, what are you thinking? If you've got time to fuck around then you've got time to pick up some more clients.

---------------------

   You aren't sure how you wound back up here, but suddenly you're back in the same vinyl shop with Mr. Dick behind the counter again. You refuse to acknowledge the inner glee at seeing his face again. You barely even look in his direction, instead, you start rifling through the records before picking out a few more. Once you start digging through you find your brain focusing more on the artwork, on the way how everything comes together, nostalgia blossoming as you thumb through familiar covers. Radiohead, The Roots, Sade, Maxwell. Lord, you can remember your first boyfriend putting Maxwell on while making out with you in the car. You called him an old man, said it was probably what your parents put on to have sex. He was dejected, you thought it was funny but sweet. He didn't see it that way. So it goes.

   You quietly walk up to the counter, a soft smile playing on your face as you carefully place everything before the look on your face is wiped back to a careful blank slate when you see Mr. Dick cocking a half-grin at you. He looks like the type of guy that high school girls used to cream themselves over, they probably still do. The kind that always has a cigarette in hand, definitely used to be a skater, probably has a secret love child on the other side of the country, maybe did some minor time for a couple of DUIs. You almost want to laugh at the way you're trying so hard to picture his life. The poor dude's probably just totally normal, or maybe you hit the nail on the head. What does it matter, he's just some random dick.

   "Ms. Corporate, you're back I see."

   "I am."

   "Always a pleasure to see a pretty gal in here, but especially when it's you." You roll your eyes and he grins at this, you hate the way how your defenses almost momentarily break at just how cute he is when he smiles, really smiles. Here you were trying to figure out if he's done time or not and suddenly you're wanting to pinch his cheek. Christ, you need to get out more. And you don't mean back here either. "I'm a little sad though, you never did give me a call."

   "I never got bored. Besides, what was I even supposed to do? Call you up and go, hey the dick behind the counter at the record store, I'm bored?" He laughs at this, a full belly laugh before he cocks his head to the side.

   "You're an interesting one Ms. Corporate. Here I was trying to figure you out, and you've thrown me for another loop. I wasn't lying though, I was disappointed that I didn't hear from you."

   Your eyes narrow for a moment, trying hard to fight the heat that so desperately wants to rise to your cheeks. "Like I said, I wasn't bored. And I'm not interested in speaking to random nameless douchebags."

   He nods his head, sliding your credit card and humming for a moment before the machine chirps and he hands over your bag and receipt. Before you can turn around he's speaking again, "Yoongi. Min Yoongi." You stare at him for a moment before he continues, "Now I'm not a nameless douche."

   "A named douche doesn't fair any better in my books. I suppose I should've said that first."

   "Fair enough, but at least I don't buy old man sex music in the middle of the night." You can't help but laugh at that, Maxwell really is old man sex music so you can't blame him. In fact, some twisted part of you is elated that he thinks so too. Not that you'd admit that to even yourself.

   "Have a good night, Min Yoongi." He looks startled for a second, he's almost transfixed on the way you laugh. You can't feel his eyes trailing you as you walk out the door, you're far too focused on trying to calm the strangely warm fuzzy feeling trying to take over you to notice.

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   Life is strange, no matter what age you are things will pop up that you can't explain how exactly it's happened, or why it's happened. The trick to being an adult is looking like you know what the fuck is going on, but the honest truth is no one does. Maybe they think they do, maybe they really do more often than not, but no one does one hundred percent of the time. That's the honest truth. The entirety of humanity is a mass of dumbasses pretending to look like they know what's going on. You are indeed one of those dumbasses, another fish in a large school trying not to be eaten but having no clue what lays beyond the school of fish ninety percent of the time. Your predator goes by the name of Min Yoongi. Perhaps he doesn't even see himself as a predator nor you as prey, but that's exactly how you see it. It's been over a month since you last stepped foot in his workplace. There should be no need to go. You now have five vinyls and still no record player. Most would call them poor financial choices and an odd way to splurge. You've thought about it more than you can count though, going back to see him that is. That stupid fucking receipt is still hanging up on your fridge, and it's taken everything in your willpower to not call him randomly.

   Min Yoongi. You wonder, far too often for your own good, who he is. What he likes, dislikes. What makes him tick. What gets him off. You blame him. It's the way he looks at you. Cold eyes, analyzing you to your very soul. Sneering at you one second, taunting you smugly, before switching to the sweetest smile you've ever seen. You've only seen him twice, no longer than a few minutes at a time. You don't know if you can even say that you've ever had a real conversation with him. He doesn't even know your name. And yet he runs through your thoughts on repeat. You would love to be able to settle on a normal human. A good guy, someone like Shownu. Safe, stable, traditionally handsome, a great career. But your stupid fucking brain feels nothing around a guy like him and then suddenly it sparks and rewires itself around a douche named Min Yoongi who you actually wondered if he did time or not. Life is strange. So it goes.

   It's thoughts like these that are your downfall. Late at night, all alone in bed. Pondering what he's doing, who he's doing. You're sure a deadbeat like him has a slew of girls at his beck and call. He certainly acts like it. But that shouldn't matter to you. After a month of wondering, going back and forth, staring longingly at the fridge, you're picking up your phone and slowly entering in the numbers. One digit takes you nearly thirty seconds, the last time it took you this long to call someone was when you were staying at your grandmother's house using her outdated rotary phone as a child. And here you are, a grown woman, terrified over some dick who works at a record store. Life is strange, you can't help but think as you delete the numbers and enter them back in. Should you, shouldn't you? What's to gain? What's to lose? Life is about strategy, isn't it? Does he offer you anything? Perhaps temporary release is all you need. But can he actually offer that? Maybe. Hopefully. Maybe not. Who knows. It's a risk. Not a calculated one either. In fact, odds are heavily stacked against him. And the adult in you says to not bother. That's what vibrators are for, if all you're looking for is a release. But there's another voice, something longing for this. There's something about him that plays on repeat in your head. Something that stirs up oddly sentimental feelings in you when you think of him. Which is strange, you don't know him. So how can sentimentality be tied to someone you just met? Maybe it's just part of his trade for soon to be old spinsters like you, you guess.

   You take another deep breath, staring at the screen as you sink down to the floor of the kitchen and finally hit the dial button. Shit. Fuck. What are you doing? This isn't like you. You haven't thought out every exit strategy yet. Christ. Oh god. "Hello?" His voice is deeper over the phone. You won't explain how that makes you feel, it's a bit embarrassing honestly.

   "Yoongi?"

   "Ms. Corporate?"

  "...Yes..." That's right, you never told him his name. There's garbled background noise for a minute, you hear him telling someone to shut the fuck up before it's eerily silent for a moment and then you hear a breathy chuckle. And oh god, you are so so so fucking screwed.

   "Holy shit. I didn't think you'd actually call. Just when I thought you forgot all about me you actually call."

   "I was bored." You bite back a smile, head resting on your fridge as you stare up at the ceiling. Jesus, you should dust more often, is that a spiderweb?

   He gives a sing-song laugh, and that strange tipsy feeling in your gut bubbles back up again. You feel oddly nervous, kind of giddy. When's the last time you felt this way? You don't know if you ever did. "Holy Christ. I'm sorry, give me a moment, this just...makes me weirdly happy. Fuck. Shit. -I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP AND GO HOME. Sorry, not you Ms. Corporate. Just uh, a friend. He's a dipshit. A bit drunk. Having girlfriend troubles I guess. Dunno why he came to me. I uh...I dunno why I'm telling you this either. Christ. Are you still there?"

   "I'm here." You don't know what to say. Fuck. Why did you call?? It's been nearly thirty seconds and you've already lost all confidence in saying anything. This is why you need a plan, a strategy. When you don't know how to proceed the only option is to deflect. So deflect you shall. "How did you know it was me?"

   "I've answered nearly every unknown number asking if it was you for about six weeks now if I was very honest. Not that you needed to know that." You swear you can hear him give an awkward chuckle. How unexpected. Perhaps staying behind the counter gives him an odd confidence boost. Or maybe he's been drinking just like his friend and is being a bit too honest. You're not sure why, but that doesn't feel like such a bad thing to you. The lack of snark is as startling as it is endearing.

   "Well, I've kept your stupid receipt pinned to my fridge for the last six weeks. Not that you need to know that." You smile at the way he laughs this time, mentally visualizing his gummy smile. Maybe you should have face timed him. But then he'd see you looking like a full damn mess in the middle of the night. You'll just have to imagine what he looks like.

   "You're really cute Ms. Corporate. Really obnoxiously cute for someone who has the strangest taste in music. I mean you went from Atmosphere to Radiohead to Maxwell. I'm sure it branches out even further than that and hopefully to a few other decades. I'm curious."

   "About what? My music tastes?"

   "Well yeah. And a lot of other things about you. Like I said, I've been trying to figure you out. You run around in my thoughts all day lately. That's not fair Ms. Corporate. Not fair at all. At least you can think of me as the douche with the name. But all I've got is Ms. Corporate with weird music tastes."

   "Hmm...."

   "What do you mean hmmm? Isn't this your cue to, oh I don't know, tell me your name?"

    "It's fun this way. Safe. Now I don't have to worry about you looking me up and finding my place and chopping me up into pieces."

   "Pretty sure I would've done that beforehand if that were the case, you know, cover my tracks and not leave my number behind or anything. Come on Ms. Corporate, you're killing me. I want to know if your name is as pretty as your face."

   You give it a moment, relishing silently in the exasperated sighs you hear over the phone, his feet shuffling loudly against pavement before finally, you speak up. "(Y/N). My name's (y/n)."

   "(Y/N)." The way he says your name slowly has tingles running up your spine, your cheeks heating up at the way it almost feels like he's savoring your name. Christ, what is it about this cheeky devil? One second he's captain douche and the next second he's adorable and then suddenly he has your toes curling just from the way he says your name. He has 'bad idea' written all over him in big bold letters and yet here you are, sitting on your kitchen floor grinning like a fool. When's the last time you smiled this much? Shit, that's a depressing thought, let's not think about that. "That's a pretty name. It fits you."

   "You sure do seem to be all compliments tonight. I'm wondering when sir asswipe will come out."

   "I save him for the store. Customer service will do that to you." That's...fair enough. But still. And why does that make you laugh? Why is it that everything just seems so easy with him? "(Y/N)." He pauses for a moment, you hear a lighter clicking in the background before he takes a drag. Well, it looks like you got one thing right, he's a smoker. Ashtray tongue, not that great. You bet he makes it look hot though. "I wanna see you."

   You don't respond, breathing halting for a moment before you hum. You want to see him too, that's the honest truth. You want to get to know him, explore him. Open him up and examine his thoughts, lay in bed and talk for hours, maybe throw on that Maxwell record and see what happens. Wait...what the fuck are you thinking? You can't help but burst out laughing, stopping when you realized that you probably sound absolutely insane and rude. Insanely rude. "Wait, no I wasn't laughing that you want to see me, it's just...I don't know why but that stupid Maxwell album popped into my head." You pause, terrified that he'll be angry or upset or realize that you're a bumbling idiot but instead, he gives a sing-song laugh. God, you want to see his face too.

   "Okay, real talk though, why did you buy old man porn music?"

   "I felt like I had to, I don't know, buy it to repent for my sins?" He's wheezing now, his laughter becoming infectious until you find yourself cracking up with him. Why is it so easy to talk to him?

   "What in the fuck does that even mean?"

   "I feel like at this point, it's better without explaining. But I will anyway. When I was in high school I was dating this dude who broke up with me because I made fun of him for putting on a Maxwell tape when we made out in his car. I told him it was old man sex music, and when you said it when I was checking out it confirmed that while I was right, I owed poor Maxwell my money I guess. I don't know. I'm not making any sense am I?"

   "Kind of? Not really? I get the feeling that I'll always still be wondering a bit with you though. Not that that's a bad thing. You're weird (Y/N), but good weird. I certainly didn't expect this from a corporate hotshot."

   "Why do you keep calling me that?"

   "Well, you look like you work in an office. You don't?"

   "Nope. I own my own business, I'm a graphic designer. But I was on a date the first time I popped in, oh and the second time I popped in I had just finalized some things with a client in person."

   "You...you wore a business suit on a...date? I don't mean to be rude but um...how old exactly are you (Y/N)? Like what era did you come from?"

   "Ah, Monsuire Jerkwad appears again. I'm 30 for your information. Which is an old biddy in my mother's eyes."

   "Whaaaat? I mean I figured from your music choices you were about my age, but wow. Look at that, I'm just one year older than you. I guess that makes me whatever the fuck the male version of an old biddy is. Say though, (Y/N), why for fuck's sake would you wear a business suit on a date? You didn't answer that earlier." Huh. So he's just a year older than you. You thought that he was younger actually. Man, asian really don't raisin. You briefly wonder what his skincare routine is. Or maybe he's one of those bastards that just uses Irish spring soap for everything and still magically looks great with no idea that there's a difference between moisturizer and lotion.

   "Ah...well, I went on the date after meeting with a client. But I mean, it was like a hot librarian suit right?" You can tell by the laughter that you were way off the mark. "Yeah...okay so it was just a normal suit. But whatever, I didn't feel a need to get dressed up for him."

   "What, is the guy a slob or something?"

   "Nah, in fact, it couldn't be further from that. But I dunno I just didn't really jive with him."

   "But you went on a date with him anyway?"

   "I told you Yoongi, I'm an old biddy. I'm drying up over here. Eggs ticking or whatever. At least according to every single family member, even the extended ones I rarely talk to."

   "Being a chick must be rough, I feel like they nag you guys extra hard. But I get it, my folks are always pestering me to get married. Settle down, find a career, have kids. Shit, at this point they don't even care what order it happens. If I came home with some random baby I think they wouldn't even be angry they'd just be like 'finally, little Mins.' It doesn't help that my brother and his wife don't want to try for kids for another couple of years so suddenly all the pressure's on me."  

   "God, I felt that in my soul. Why can't they just let us breathe? It's like my life revolves around finding someone to make my parents happy all of a sudden. I don't even know when that happened. Or how, or why. But it's like, I've gotta keep up with everyone else you know? I feel like somewhere along the line I got left behind."

   "Did you though?" He takes a long drag, and you swear you can practically smell the cigarette through the phone. You bet he's a clove kind of guy, he's too weird to go for menthols. "I mean, did you really get left behind? Life happens for everyone at different times. What's so wrong about that? Trust me, I get the pressure and the nagging and the bullshit. But at the end of the day, this is your life. Live it without regrets. Why settle just because other people tell you that you should? That seems boring as fucking hell."

   Life really is strange. Who would have guessed that some random dick in a random record store you'd never been to before a shitty date would suddenly be the one lifting the burden off your shoulder as if it had never been there? Everyone else was always telling you that it would happen, that the right guy would come along and soon enough you'd be married and having kids and all would be grand. But the honest truth is...that's not what you want. You don't even know if you want kids. And marriage? Man, that just seems like something you don't need in your life right now. When did you get so wrapped up in feeling like you'd been left in the dust that you felt you had to do the exact same things to keep up?

   Somewhere, in the core of your very being, you probably knew right then and there that you were getting into way too deep of territory for someone you had just met. But you had dropped your guard, refused to acknowledge any warning signs. How could you when someone finally was telling you that it was okay to just live? He told you the words that you needed the most without even knowing it. You can feel tears threating to rise but you gulp everything down and instead just give a quiet thanks. You just hear the drag of his cigarette again before he responds with an equally quiet no problem. It feels like the world could stop, right there and then. As if it was just the two of you, frozen in your own separate corners of earth while quietly listening to the static from the phone and all would be well. It felt safe. Dangerously safe.

   "Fuck, I need to charge my phone it's about to-" With that, the call drops and you stare at your phone for a moment. Maybe it was for the best that his phone died, who knows what you would have said to him if you stayed on the phone any longer. You just practically spilled your guts to a virtual stranger from your kitchen floor at one in the morning. And yet, for the first time in a long time, all you can do is stare happily at your phone before finally forcing yourself into bed.

   The next morning you may or may not have squealed like a complete buffoon upon reading the text you missed from him after falling asleep. "Sorry bout that. Next time tho, I wanna see you in person. That way there's no worries about my phone dying." Shit. It's too early for this kind of attack. You'll blame being half-awake for why you responded with just a simple "K." You only have your own neuroticism to blame for your internal freakouts that constantly reoccur over the next few days when you don't hear anything back. Maybe you were a bit too dry. Okay...you most certainly were too dry. Christ, if there's ever been a dead fish version of a text, that would be it. Maybe you should have expected to fumble this badly. Maybe it's a good thing. He didn't seem like the type to really be interested in anything other than playing around. Not that you were expecting anything. Right? Okay...well maybe you did kind of really want to make out with him. Which is strange, because honestly, you can't remember the last time you even thought of wanting to make out with someone. University years maybe? But now's not the time to be thinking about that! Nows the perfect time to throw yourself into work, it's the best scapegoat for avoiding emotions you'd rather not explore.

----------------

   "Wow, your boredom intervals are quickly decreasing. Do you not have a lot of work right now or?" Jesus what in the fuck are you even thinking, dragging your ass in this stupid fucking store in the middle of the night for a third time. And you still don't have a goddamn record player. God, you pray he never finds that out. He'd probably never stop making fun of you.

   You can't help but shoot a glare in his direction, but your nerves falter the moment you see the shit-eating grin on his face. You swear you can feel your breath hitch in the back of your throat and trap itself. It's suffocating. Blinding. It's not fair. He's so handsome. Dark disheveled hair partially obscuring his coffee-colored eyes, gummy grin, obnoxiously white teeth for a smoker, milky pale skin that's always at stark odds with his typical black t-shirt, veiny hands. This isn't good. This isn't fair. You really want to kiss him.

   "What, cat got your tongue or something Ms. Corporate?" He's leaning across the counter, head cocked as he openly ogles you. It's not fair. You've been a wreck for the last few days, waiting around for some sort of a response and this fucking shrimp is acting like you never spoke. Like nothing changed. Like he didn't tell you he wanted to see you in person. It's probably just your own stupidity or neuroticism peaking through, but when he called you Ms. Corporate it felt like that perfect paradise on the phone was all a mirage. As if it never happened. It's infuriating how he can act so calm. Before you can continue overthinking and turning around in circles you march up to the counter and grip his shirt in your hand, pulling him in for a kiss that he reciprocates unusually quickly. You can feel his tongue slide across your lower lip, asking for entrance when the sound of the door chimes pull you quickly away. Damn these stupid kids buying records in the middle of the night. Don't they have a curfew?? Fucking rich kids trying to be edgy when they should be at home, in bed, not fucking interrupting this not so Hallmark moment.

   "Stop fucking calling me Ms. Corporate, you colossal idiot." You can distantly hear him sending you off with a hoarse 'goodnight.' Everything in you wants to turn around and see what kind of a face he's making. Is he just making fun of you? Is he as hot and bothered as you from a kiss? It felt like electricity ran up your spine like everything was floating for a moment, the world just goes away when you're with him and all that's there is the two of you. Fuck. You like Sargeant fuckface from the record store. And even though you have a feeling that all of this is a terrible idea you can't help but grin to yourself the entire way home. Hey, at least this time you didn't waste more money on records you can't play.

   You aren't sure if it's the place, or Yoongi, or your increasing age that your mother likes to remind you of constantly (not that you'd ever admit that) that makes you feel so nostalgic, so sentimental. But whenever you're around him it hits you hard. When did love lose innocence, when did it stop simply being about selfishly, greedily wanting to learn everything about the other person and staying by their side? When did it grow to be a chore, a thing that you did because it was another step on the ladder of life? And why is it that when you're around him all you can feel is those same simple straightforward feelings? Fuck, you want to kiss him again. His lips were so soft, and you were right, he tasted like Djarum Blacks. You wonder how he got them, you're pretty sure that there's a ban on them now. Ashy, a bit of clove lingering on his lips. Lingering on yours. God, it's almost infuriating how happy that makes you. Almost. But right now, you're too wrapped up in glee to be annoyed. You hope that somehow, someday, you'll manage to wrap him around your finger the way he has you so effortlessly wrapped over his. Not that you're complaining. If you're going to be wrapped around anyone's fingers, you're okay with it being his. Not that you've been staring at them whenever he handed you your bags or anything. Nope. That definitely wasn't the case. Maybe.

   When you get back home you try your hardest to stay busy, but your thoughts keep wandering back. Jesus, you think it would be easier to control your brain. It isn't until your phone clatters off the counter that you realize Yoongi's calling you, and for a moment you squint at the phone before hastily picking it up and answering. Shit wait, act cool. "'Sup Colonel nitwit?" Fuck, wait that wasn't cool. Christ, why are you like this? What are you, a twelve-year-old boy? You should probably seek counseling for your stupidity. Or maybe not, because when you hear that sing-song laughter reverberating through your ears it suddenly makes everything feel okay again.

   "You're something (y/n). A real piece of work. I mean you called me an idiot earlier, no wait, a colossal idiot and now I'm Colonel nitwit?" He laughs again, and once again you find yourself sliding down the fridge onto the floor, blushing as you blink up at the ceiling. Dejavu. "Ah, this is bad. I should have texted you. Hearing your voice makes me want to see you in person."

   "Foul. Out of bounds. That's not fair play. You aren't allowed to say things that cute."

   "You fouled first, who just marches up to someone and kisses them at their place of work?"

   "It's not like anyone else was there." You're glad he isn't here to see your face, you're already grinning like a fool and you have a feeling that he'd tease you mercilessly if he could see you right now.

   "Until those damn brats showed up." Ah, it makes you painfully happy that he was just as annoyed as you were. "I don't know what it is about you, but you just run around my thoughts all damn day."

   "So why didn't you ever text me back?"

   "AH! About that, I realized after I hung up that you said you were out on a date that first time and I suddenly started feeling like a homewrecker. I mean, I know you said that you didn't seem interested in him or maybe that was me just hoping I heard that I dunno everything feels kind of fuzzy now. My memories are hazy I just-"

   "It was just a date, not a boyfriend. I'm not the type to talk to others when I'm sincerely dating. Although I'm also not the type to call up guys who leave me their numbers on receipts. I guess the world is full of surprises."

   "God, this is really bad, I really wanna see your face. And you can't tell me that this isn't fair play when you basically just called me special."

   "I'm sorry, but what language were you thinking I was speaking that that's what you came up with? Because I'm pretty sure I didn't come close to saying that."

   "No no, it was totally there. In the subtext. It's all about the subtext you know. I mean you said that you aren't the type to call guys who give you their number on a receipt and yet you still called me. That makes me special."

   "Bwa-what's with that. You dork. Shit, now I wanna see your face."

   "Where are you? I'll come over to you."

   "I'm at my home. Scary. Maybe you are a serial killer and that's really your goal. You know, to chop me up in little pieces or some weird shit."

   "Wanna take the risk?"

   "Kind of."

   "Only kind of??? What's with that lukewarm response? I'm clearly not a serial killer. But I won't act like I don't have nefarious intentions." You can hear the clicking of the lighter, and you can't help but take a deep inhale at the same time as him. God, you bet he looks hot smoking. Wait no, smoking is bad. Very very bad. "Where'd your thoughts go right now, (y/n)?" It's not fair. He has you wrapped around his finger. You want to see him, you want to inhale his scent, run your fingers through his hair, taste him, touch him, fuck him. Fuck. When's the last time a guy got you this hot and bothered from merely existing? Has this ever actually happened? You aren't sure.

   "I'm curious, describe these nefarious intentions please."

   There's a pause, another drag of his cigarette. "Alright, I'll start with the less deviant things. I can't get the feeling of your lips outta my head. I want to kiss you, hold you, touch you. It's weird, I'm not normally the type for soft fluffy things. But the world is strange, as you said. You do weird things to my brain (y/n). You run around my thoughts night and day. When the door chimes at work I turn into Pavlov's dog and hope it's you." There's another long pause, for a moment all you hear is the thudding of your heart rushing into your eardrums and the soft staccato of static coming from your phone.

   "Those don't seem very nefarious to me."

   "Interesting, so you DO want to hear my deviant thoughts."

   "Well, calling your intentions nefarious is a rather interesting way of putting it. It makes it sound more sinister and less...I dunno...sexual? And then when you explained it all seemed rather, I don't know...innocent I guess."

   "That's because I don't wanna scare you off, Ms. Corporate."

   "Again with that stupid name?"

   "I wanna fuck you." Shit, you weren't expecting him to be that straightforward, especially after he seemed to be beating around the bush earlier. And why are you now a mix of happy and horny? That's a new mix for you. "I want to see what kind of faces you make when you cum. I want to taste you. I want to see you under me, on top of me, I want to hear you beg, I want to hear you scream my name. I want to ruin you until all you can think of is me. Until all that satisfies you is me, because right now all I can think of is you. All I want is you. And it doesn't feel fair to not see you in that same boat. So what do you say, (y/n)? Do you still want to see me tonight?"

   You want to tell him that you're also in the same boat, that really the two of you have been going in circles with the same thoughts for probably just as long. Both of you are so greedy, wanting and thinking of nothing but ruining the other. But ruin seems an unfair word, it seems to scratch only the surface. The honest truth is that you just wholeheartedly want the other person, you want them under your thumb to declare them yours. Maybe. It's strange. You were always the kind of girl to take things slow. You never did one night stands, you never had fuck buddies or booty calls or anything even close to resembling that. Sex was always something that came far later in a relationship. But this? You aren't even sure what it is. You can't exactly say he's a friend, you don't really know him. You can't say that you aren't on the way to becoming lovers, but then again he might be thinking of things from a strictly physical standpoint. You aren't sure. Maybe you should ask. Someday perhaps. If you were frank though all of this excites you. Fascinates you. Terrifies you ever so slightly. But all you can think of at this moment is that it elates you to no end that he wants you just as much as you want him. How absolutely greedy. "I do. I probably shouldn't, but I do."

   "Yeah," the dark chuckle on the other line brings heat up to your face, your breath catching in your throat. He suffocates you even with the simplest of things, even with a laugh. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't. You strike me as a good girl. The type to always please others before pleasing herself. The type to not rebel. I don't know why, but I feel I should at least tell you this. I'm not a good guy, I'm not the guy you take home to your parents or the kind of dude you can gush about to all of your friends. But I am at least confident that I can give you a reprieve. It's gotta be stressful, being good all the time constantly working for others, constantly pleasing others. But who tries to please you, understand you, allows you to just be selfish every once in a while? I can be that for you. I want to be that for you. Which is really weird because I usually hate when chicks want that from me. And here I am offering myself up on a silver platter to you. Man, the guys would think I've gone crazy if I told them this. I don't even get it, but there's just something about you that makes me feel...I dunno something."

   It's strange, how little he knows you and yet he says the things you need to hear the most. When is the last time you did something simply because you wanted to before he stumbled into your life? Did you ever? Here you were hot and bothered before and now you want to cry big fat ugly happy tears. Yoongi gives you emotional whiplash with just a few words. It's not fair. "I want to see you. Tonight."

   "Okay." Another drag, another chuckle. "Okay, then send me your address."

   You fumble with the phone, texting the address over to him quickly, your heart jumping out of your throat the entire time. The anticipation has your heart soaring and nerves dropping deep into your belly, you're a mess of a multitude of emotions all at the same time.

   "Wow, would you look at that. You're only about ten minutes away from me. I'll be over soon." Before you can respond he hangs up, and you're left staring at the ceiling wondering momentarily what you've just gotten yourself into before you're scrambling off the kitchen floor and into your bedroom. Shit, shit. You don't have much time. The house is presentable, barely. Whatever. It'll have to do. You brush your teeth, comb out your hair quickly, and do a quick once over. He'll have to just deal with your bare face, but hey at least you shaved in the bath earlier. The doorbell chimes right as you throw an oversized sweater over one of your nicer lace bras you quickly changed into. You nearly knock into every door and corner on your way to the front door, slipping slightly at the entrance before taking a deep breath and opening it.

   He's painfully good looking, but his trademark blase pokerface has you ever so slightly annoyed. Here you were rushing about, a bundle of nerves and energy, and he looks remarkably indifferent to everything. As if he didn't just tell you that he has, and you quote, nefarious intentions. But that thought runs right out the door the moment he narrows his eyes on you and gives you one of his award-winning gummy grins. You're so fucked. You're such a sucker for him already. "You okay?"

   "What, yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You open the door wider, motioning him to come in before shutting the door gently behind him.

   "Because you look nervous. Relax, I'm not here to eat you. Eat you out, maybe. If that's what you want. I'm only here to give you whatever you want." He narrows his eyes on you again, his gaze sweeping over you before looking directly at you. It feels like he can see right through you, right down to your very soul. It's comforting, terrifying, it's like everything that comes with him is a euphoric blend of polar opposites leaving you to drown somewhere in the in-between. He makes you feel like you're in the eye of the storm but precariously close to being tossed into the chaos raging all around you.

   "I hate to say this, but that sounds almost too good to be true. What's in it for you?" You tilt your head, analyzing him as you lean back against the door while trying to feign nonchalance.

   "You. And oddly enough, for once that's enough for me." He shrugs at this comment, although his eyes narrow a bit as if even he can't even believe that he just admitted this.

   "What if I said I didn't want more? Or what if I said that I wanted no strings attached if there is more? Or if I said-"

   "-I want strings attached. No, I need strings attached." You can't help but blink owlishly back at him as you try to digest this information. You pegged him for a wham-bam-thank you ma'am but I'm never calling you again type of man. "Call me crazy, I mean this is totally out of my typical wheelhouse but I realized that I was jealous when you said you were on a date right before you first came into the shop. If we're going to do this I want strings attached. Call it whatever you want, but whatever this is it's just me and you babe. No one else."

   "No one else on either side?" Greedy, selfish, but fair. You're over the moon that for whatever reason he's just the same as you. At least, when it comes to this situation. God, you want him. All of him. You want to sink deeper into this, drown yourself in him, lose yourself in all that he has to offer you. That's dangerous. But you don't care, you're already too far gone. You can feel your stomach tighten, mind halting as he stalks closer to you, his breath hot on your ear as one hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

   "No one else on either side." His eyes travel down from your eyes to your lips before slowly wandering back up. God, you just want him to kiss you already.

   "Deal." Why do you feel like you might have just made a pact with the devil? And why is it that you still really don't care, as long as it means you get to finally taste him again. Fucking hell, you're pretty sure all of your sanity flies right out the window when he's involved. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, just a few centimeters away from your own. So close, so close. It's like time has stilled. As if the world has fallen away and yet again all that's left is the two of you. Falling, falling. Sinking. Deeper. Deeper. Deeper. Into a chasm of euphoric insanity of pleasure.

   Slowly, painfully slowly, you move your hand to his cheek the other hand winding up the firm planes of his chest. That surprises you, you thought he'd be more delicate. He certainly seems delicately built at first glance, but looks can be deceiving. His eyes never leave your own, his sights set squarely on you. Refusing to look away. Refusing to run. A deal has been made with the devil, and the devil is letting you know you aren't about to leave his crosshairs. "Kiss me, Yoongi." That signature lazy half-smile of his appears for just a fraction before his lips are on yours. He's spicy, ashy. That damn clove has your toes curling, sighing, melting into his touch. Fucking hell. You're already wet, thighs trembling, hands curling his shirt into a ball, as he licks into your mouth.

   The beat of your heart sounds painfully loud in your eardrums. Every sound is fuzzy, staticky as if you're still on the phone. Your own groans almost sound distant, his sighs sound so soft. So content. It feels like the two of you have been dunked in molasses. Time has slowed down for both of you. Moving so slowly, tenderly. Almost as if you're starstruck lovers who have just one night to cherish each other. As if you've known each other's bodies forever but have never been allowed to explore them. It feels like a fragile spell, moving too quickly might break the magic and the devil will run home with his nefarious intentions long forgotten. His hand grips tighter for a moment before wandering down, palming and massaging your ass before picking up your legs and wrapping them around his waist. He takes the small change in stature to detach from your lips, both of you watching with glossy eyes as a thing string of saliva breaks. "You're beautiful (y/n)." A hoarse whisper, kind words from a man with a crass mouth. It makes you want to be feral, it makes you want to slow down. It makes you want everything. Nothing but him. He drives you to the brink of insanity with all these diametrically opposing wants and needs.

   A long low moan tumbles out of your lips at the feeling of his tongue gliding across the prominent vein of your neck before sinking his lips down. Soft petals of pinks and red appear in his wake, a trail of cherry blossoms in spring-time painted on your skin leading up to your ear before his teeth gently press down on your lobe. Shit. That feels way too good. Toes curling, fingers wrapping into his hair and his tongue tangles skillfully around your ear until suddenly he's off, his eyes boring back into your own as your breathing tries to slow back down. "Tell me what you want, (y/n). What do you want from me?"

   If any other man would have asked you that, with such a knife-sharp gaze, you surely would have clammed up. You've never been the vocal type. But you're too far lost in his eyes to care. There's a part of you that desperately hopes your own wants will please him, that he'll sink deeper with you into this chasm of pleasure with you. "I want to suck you off."

   The admission seems to catch him off guard for a moment, there's almost an innocence to the way he blinks back at you but that's gone quickly enough that you almost imagine if you really saw it or not. Replaced by a wolfish grin, desire bubbling across his features, infecting your skin, your core. As if the madness is catching. "Well well well. Who knew little Ms. Corporate had that in her? I can't say the idea of you on your knees hasn't been in my mind before. I also can't lie and say that it isn't one of the most exquisite things I've ever thought of. But I thought I told you that this was about you? About your pleasure? Are you sure that's what you want?" Your brain processes his words slowly, you're far too focused on his growing erection pressing against your inner thigh to think clearly and quickly.

   "I told you, Yoongi. I want you. I want you to lose yourself just as much as me." That's right, you want to watch him fall into pleasure just as you have. You want this madness, this desire, this sin to grip him tightly just as it has gripped you. You're greedy that way. And right now the greatest satisfaction you could receive is seeing him out of control, and you in it. You might be on your knees for him, but he'll be under your spell.

   You unlatch your legs slowly, trembling slightly as you lace your fingers through his and pull him along to your bedroom silently. All you can hear is the hum of the A/C and the sound of your shallow breathing when you push through the bedroom door and lead him to the edge of the bed. Before you can move, his hands are quickly pulling off your sweater and tugging down your leggings until you're left in just your underwear. "I'm not about to have you finally blow me and you're still dressed." His fingers gracefully move around your back, unlatching your bra and tossing it behind you. It's feverish, the look he sends you. All you can think of is that you want more. You want to see him look at you like that all day. As if you're the only woman he wants. As if he needs you. You can't even respond, too lost in the way he looks at you like he wants to devour you whole. So instead you move forward a step, tugging his t-shirt over his head and staring for a second at his bare skin.

   He has those skinny boy abs, the kind that you always felt weren't fair because it comes naturally from stupid fast metabolisms and not hard work. But you aren't going to complain right now, not when he looks so good and he's yours. All yours. Whatever this is, he made a deal, no one else. You can be as greedy as you want because he's just the same. You sink down onto your knees, your eyes locking onto his as you unbuckle his belt and toss it off to the side. You aren't sure if it's just your hopeful imagination or if you really do hear his breath catch in his throat as you slowly unzip his jeans before letting them fall to the floor. He's a briefs kind of guy, thank god. You've always hated how boxers look on men. He takes a moment to shuffle out of his pants completely before prying off his tight black briefs, and your mouth instinctively waters at the sight.

   He's thick, veiny, and you're happy to report that he keeps everything well-groomed. Thank god, no pubes will be stuck in your teeth tonight. Heat rises up to your cheeks at the way he looks at you with carnal anticipation. Suddenly you aren't so sure about all your earlier internal bravado about being the one to make him sink deeper into pleasure with you. He's looking at you like a predator stalking his prey. As if a meal has just presented itself to him on a silver platter. But you'll change that, you want nothing more than to watch that mask fall off. You want him to break. To fall. To tremble underneath your touch the way you shake with anticipation and euphoria under his watchful gaze.

   It's with an unwavering determination that you finally grasp his dick in your hand, staring up at him as you pepper soft kisses around his tip. He's salty, tangy, drooling with precum. Delicious. Sinful. Perfect. You refuse to move your gaze off of his eyes, you want to watch him. You want to see how he falls apart. It only takes one long lick from the base to the tip to start seeing the signs, the way his Adam's apple bobs and his gaze clouds over ever so slightly. It's minute, but it's there. God, you want him. More than you've ever wanted another person. Greedily, in hopes of breaking him, you pull him into your mouth. Inch by inch, until your nose is pressed firmly against his dark patch of hair and his hand is fast to wrap around your hair and grips you tightly until a slight sting can be felt in your scalp. You didn't know you were into that, but the sensation leaves your core throbbing. Aching. Shit. You pull back up, licking around the tip with one hand jerking in slow steady motions as the other one holds his balls in your palm. Rolling them gently until you finally dive back down. There's a dull ache in your jaw already, and you have to steady your breathing to take him whole. He's just long enough to reach past your uvula and activate your gag reflex if you aren't careful. But the way his thighs flex and the guttural groans you hear are enough to have you wanting more. It's beautiful, the way he unravels. Just for you. Only you. You made a deal with the devil after all.

   "Holy fuck, you're good at this." His head is tilted back, the veins on free arm popping as it curls into a fist. You can see a thin veil of sweat covering his chest and his breathing sounds uneven, small groans and grunts breaking the rhythm. It spurs you on, moaning slightly at the way his dick pulses and throbs in your mouth. "God, (y/n). You're too fucking hot. It's not fair, shit, how someone can look that good. You look like you were made to be on your knees, fuck. God, you don't even know how much I've thought about this. I've been like a goddamn high school kid, jerking off to the thought of you every night." You finally close your eyes, concentrating harder on his words and his dick. Shit, have you ever had a guy be this vocal before? It's such a turnon. God, you want him. You want him so badly you feel like you could burst. It's not fair, how even when he starts falling apart, his composure finally going out the window, you're just a bigger mess. Both mentally and physically. You feel like you could wring a gallon out of your panties, your thighs are already drenched. You can't remember the last time you were this wet. Have you ever been this wet? Fuck, what is Yoongi doing to you?

    His thighs tremble and flex in spasms, his groans increasing and you open your eyes back up to see his sight's back on you. He looks so fucked out, hair a mess and cheeks flushed. You wish you could take a picture of this. No man should be this pretty, it almost isn't fair. You can't help but moan as his hand yanks your head further down before his grip relaxes. "Shit, shit, sorry, but I'm going to, fuck, cum. So if you don't want it-" You manage to silence him by putting his hand back on your head and slacking your jaw. A silent permission to use it as he wants. He understands your nonverbal command instantly. He gives a dark chuckle as he shakes his head. "Fuck. You really are too good to me, (y/n)." He doesn't waste time, nor is he gentle. You aren't sure if he's too far gone to think about your gag reflex or if he doesn't care, but it would be a lie to say that it doesn't turn you on. The way he uses you, the way he loses himself in thoughts of nothing but the pleasure your mouth can bring him. It isn't long before he's unraveling, groans turn into the most beautiful moans you've ever heard. Husky, deep, feral. And then you finally taste it, thick sticky white ropes of his salty, tangy cum. He stills for a moment, groaning as he softens inside of you before pulling out slowly, watching intently as he smears cum across your lips. "Be a good girl and swallow for me."

   You blink up at him, pausing for a moment before pursing your lips and swallowing everything back as his thumb swipes the remnants from your lips before forcing it inside. This time you really can hear the hitch in his breath as your tongue swirls around the pad of his thumb before swallowing back again and opening your mouth up as if to show that all is clean. There's a dark chuckle from him, but the look in his eyes doesn't reflect that sentiment. He's looking at you fondly, warmly. As if you didn't just perform one of the lewdest acts of your life for him simply because it made you melt when he called you a good girl. "Well would you look at that, you really cleaned up, didn't you?" His words give you a thought, and you reach out impulsively to follow through with it. Your lips latch onto his now softening cock, licking gently, slowly so as to not overstimulate what's now very sensitive skin as you clean off every last drop. You can feel Yoongi squirm, his hands are quick to grab your hair again and pull you up to your feet with a force that has you moaning. He's certainly stronger than he looks. "Jesus Christ, you're going to be the fucking death of me."

   Before you can even think of responding his lips are on yours. Distantly, somewhere in your sex addled thoughts, you can feel some sick sense of euphoria at the thought of him tasting his own release on your tongue. He's so different from any other man you've ever had. When had sex stopped being fun and became a chore to keep your partner satisfied? You can't remember the last time you felt this much pleasure, this much satisfaction. And you haven't even been touched yet. Shit. You're in for a wild ride with Min Yoongi. "You know, for normally being a mouthy little thing you haven't said very much." You blink up at him, confused at the loss of contact with his mouth, instinctually seeking the warmth of his skin as you curl up closer to him for a moment. Truth be told you've never been very vocal. You aren't sure what to say, where to start. But you don't want to say that and get laughed at by him, or worse yet, called a prude. But then he shoots you that look, the one that feels like he can see straight to your soul and suddenly you're talking.

   "I've never been very vocal. It's embarrassing." You look away as you speak, your cheeks heating up at your admission. You wait for the laughter, for the teasing, but instead, all you feel is his hand cupping your chin and forcing you to look at him.

   "What's so embarrassing about having your partner know what you want? What you like? I want to please you, I want to watch you fall apart. I mean for christ's sake you just licked my cum off my dick without a second thought. As if it was the most natural thing in the world for you. It was the hottest goddamn thing I've ever seen. I want to make sure that you feel just as much pleasure. So tell me, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to eat you out? Finger you? Fuck you? How do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to ride me, do you want me to take you from behind, do you want me to take your ass, or fuck you raw? What exactly do you want?" His free hand ghosts over your body as he holds your face firmly in place. You can't look away, even if you wanted to. It's like he's put you under a spell. Fuck. God, you want him. More than you want anything else. If you were locked in a room with this man for an entire day you'd use every single second to explore his body, to have him explore yours.

   "I want you to eat me out." You're rewarded with a Cheshire cat grin, he looks like a villain who's just been handed the world. And suddenly your thoughts are running back to what he said on the phone. *'I'm not a good guy.'* God, why does that have you so hot and bothered all of sudden? It's like he was put on this earth just to wreck you.

   "Good girl, was that so hard?" Before you can respond he's pushing you onto the bed and prying your underwear off. "Jesus Christ, I don't think I've ever seen panties that wrecked before. Seems little Ms. Corporate enjoys being on her knees. Not that I'm complaining, I consider it an honor to see you enjoy something so filthy with me." You pull yourself up a bit on your arms to see him better, and you tighten at the sight of him prying your legs apart. He's looking at you like you're a delicacy, the finest meal that's ever been presented and he's a starving man. "Do you like that, do you like when I talk to you like this?"

   God, more than you ever thought you would. "Yeah." He chuckles, blinking up at you and shaking his head before hooking your legs over his shoulders and dragging you to the edge of the bed.

   "Another lukewarm response. Maybe I should just stop." He's teasing you, at least you're hoping he is. Because he's so close now, you can feel the warmth of his breath on your clit. But he isn't moving, he's just staying there. His eyes locked on yours as if waiting for more. Christ. He's waiting for you to respond. And you can tell by the amused look on his face that he could wait all night if need be.

   "I..." You pause, take a deep breath and close your eyes. It's too hard to say it while he's looking at you like that. "It turns me on when you tell me things like that."

   "Things like what?" Son of a motherfucker, he's really not going to let you off the hook. He's enjoying this way too much. Fucking sadistic little shit. But the annoyance has you riled up enough to be defiant, to say it.

   "I like it when you call me a good girl. I like it when you call me filthy. I like it when you praise me. I like it when you tell me what you want to do to me. It makes me feel wanted." You almost want to cry, it makes you feel so vulnerable to admit this to him. It's strange, how just moments ago you were so confident and now you suddenly feel so unsure. But when you finally open your eyes back up the look he's giving you makes everything feel alright. Like it's safe. It's safe to be honest with him. To be vulnerable. As if he'll protect you, hold you. You don't know if he actually will, but when he looks at you so tenderly, so lovingly, it's impossible to think that he won't. But it's the smile he gives you, all gums and pearly whites, that make it worth it. Christ, you're flying a million miles an hour on this emotional rollercoaster.

   "What a good girl. You are wanted, so wanted it's terrifying." Before you can even think about the meaning behind his words, the subtext in the empty spaces, his mouth is latched onto your clit. The sensation brings a jolt of electricity up your spine, your legs latching around his face as a long garbled moan drags out of your mouth. Shit, when's the last time you were touched like this?

   "Holy fuck." You can feel him smile, and the low chuckle he gives you reverberates through your body. You aren't sure what to focus on, the tantalizing image of his face buried in your wet heat or the sensation of his tongue as it moves in hungry circles around your clit. Just as you grow used to the dizzying, tingling feeling of his mouth you feel one finger slowly ease its way inside of you. It's odd, how frenzied his mouth is, but how gentle his fingers are. It's easy to sink into this feeling, to relax under his touch. God, he's good. Just as he works in a second finger you can feel yourself unraveling. "Oh my god, don't stop. Please, please don't stop." You've never cum this fast before, but the release is imminent. So close. Maybe it's because you've been so aroused for so long that even the slightest of touches turn you into a mess. You're just over the horizon, legs trembling around him and toes curling as needy whines leave your lips. His tongue moves faster, fingers scissoring into you until all you can see is blinding white. It's almost an out of body experience, everything feels too intense to process. Your body writhing under Yoongi, trying to fight his hold around your legs as your hips lift up and your moans tumble out one after another. It's blinding. Brilliant. It makes you feel whole again. As if all is right with the world when you're here underneath him. But maybe that's just your delirious post-orgasm brain talking.

   Somewhere, it almost feels like it's on another planet, you can hear Yoongi cooing, smiling as he looks down at you with your essence still smeared across his face and fingers still lodged deep inside your pussy. "What a good girl. Do you want to taste yourself?"

   You blink back up, still slightly out of sorts as you nod slowly before finally managing to say, "Yes, please." If you were more coherent you would have probably lost consciousness at the look Yoongi gives, drenched in desire. His nefarious intentions are written on his face. The epitome of deviancy. Sin incarnate. It feels so empty when his fingers pull out with a pop, and both of you watch with rapt attention as he pulls his fingers apart and watches the strings of your release break. God, you always thought he had beautiful fingers but it should be illegal for them to look that good while covered in your essence. You lean up on your forearms, opening your mouth and watching as his fingers slowly enter your mouth. You'd do this a thousand times if it meant getting to see that look on Yoongi's face, the way he watches you with complete and utter satisfaction. As if the only thing in the world he wants to see is you at your lewdest. The guttural groan that leaves his mouth sends waves of pleasure through you as his fingers leave your mouth with a pop.

   "Jesus, you really are going to be the death of me. Or that pretty little mouth of yours will be."

   "At least you'll die happy." You shrug, laughing at the glare he shoots you before giving you a gummy smile. It's odd how comfortable it is to be around him. As if everything is right with the world and the two of you aren't in the middle of outright debauchery that involves you consuming a hell of a lot of cum. It shouldn't be legal for him to give you such a warm and fuzzy smile.

   "Nah, I won't die happy until I've fucked you." He really is the king at giving you emotional whiplash. At this admission you look down to see that he's hard again, leaking precum once more. You've never thought a dick was pretty before, but his is. A dusty shade of pink, thick, twitching in the air with need. You can feel your own core pulse with need as you look at him. Fuck, you want him. More than you've ever wanted anything. Who knew you'd still be this greedy, this needy, after already achieving what was arguably the best orgasm of your life.

   "Then fuck me." The words come out of your mouth in a low timbre, each syllable dripping with want. Yoongi doesn't verbally respond for once, instead, he just repositions you, gently leaning your head against the pillow as he shuffles your thighs over his hips. You can feel the velvety soft tip of his cock tap against your clit, and the soft sensation has you sighing underneath him.

   "Are you sure that's what you really want babe?"

   "I want you to fuck me, Min Yoongi. Please, fuck me." For a moment he pauses, his Adam's apple bobbing. You swear that for a half-second he almost looks like he's contemplating everything as if he's questioning the validity of the situation before he's spitting into his palm and wetting his dick.

   "I won't be gentle. That's not in my vocabulary."

   "I don't want you to be gentle. I want you to fuck me, make me see stars." You reach out to touch his cheek, your hand wandering down his chest for a moment before gripping his dick in your own hand and guiding it to your greedy entrance. He watches for a second before taking over, snapping his hips into yours and sliding in all the way in one go. The burn is tantalizing, the stretch leaves you feeling utterly full and before you can even think of relaxing fully into it he's snapping his hips again.

   "Well Ms. Corporate, you can't say I didn't warn you. I want to see you beg, cry, scream my name. I want to see you fall apart on my cock, over and over again tonight." He emphasizes by picking up pace, his hips smacking against your skin with loud thwacks. It's disorienting, tantalizing, the way he fucks into you. Each time he's fully inside you you can almost touch the stars. You swear his dick is made of magic, the way it takes you out of your own overgrown thoughts and into the present. All you can think of is him, of the pleasure he brings you. It's like your nerves are on fire, it's almost pathetic how quickly you melt underneath him. Teeth clacking, his name spilling out in a broken mantra of whines and moans. Thank god he said he wanted strings attached because all you can think of is that once won't be enough with him. Shit, you're pretty sure you could fuck him every day and you'd still want more. So greedy, so needy. Just for him. Only for him. The devil has you in his crosshairs, but you don't want to leave. "Look at you, already falling apart." Such crass praise. You can feel yourself pulse around him at his words, and the moan that leaves him has your back arching. You wish you could turn his moans into a song, you'd play it on repeat. Such a beautifully filthy sound.

   You can feel another release looming over you when he picks your hips up and fucks into you harder. Christ, how does he have the stamina for this? Not that you're complaining. "Yoongi I'm going to, fuuuuck, right there, keep going, right, fuck!" Somehow he seems to understand your garbled incoherent rambling, because he grins down as he fucks into you harder, pulling you into a heated kiss that you try hard to reciprocate in between broken moans. It's electric. It burns you up from the inside out. It raises goosebumps across your flesh and has your eyes rolling the back of your head as you writhe around him. If Yoongi wanted to ruin you then he's already won. You're positive that sex will never feel this good with anyone else. He slows down for just a moment, fucking into you shallowly as you try to get your breathing back to normal. It's hard to do anything though, you feel like you're floating on a cloud. As if your consciousness is only barely connected to your physical body.

   "You still with me, babe?" You can't even look up at him, it takes a painful amount of effort to just nod. You can hear his own groans and grunts better with your eyes closed. What a sinful symphony, skin against skin, mewls of pleasure from two lovers, or at the very least strings attached deal makers, lost in the throes of passion. He twists you underneath him until you're on all fours, shakey legs barely keeping you up and arms failing as your face plants into the pillow and your ass hangs in the air. He gives one test swat to your ass, and your scream of satisfaction and clenching pussy must be the answer to his unsaid question because his hand comes down harder this time. Surely leaving a pink park in its wake, and before you can process a third loud smack rings through the air. Jesus christ mother mary, you could drown a man right now with how wet he has you. Before you can even say anything he's fucking into you again, taking you from behind as his hands twist into your hair and pull you up until your back is flush to his chest. The sting in your scalp has you clenching around him, you're a mewling drooling mess at this point. And you're too far gone to care, euphoria is the only thought on your mind.

   "You've been such a good girl for me. Do you think  you can cum again, do you want to cum all over my cock for me?" A stuttered yes hangs in the air for just a moment before his mouth latches onto your neck and his hand leaves your hair to tug at one taught nipple while the other dives lower until it's rubbing circles around your clit. Yoongi isn't the only one who would die happy after this, but you can't seem to get the words out. Shit, you can't seem to get any words out. It's taking everything in you to just breathe at this point. Every sensation is too much for you to handle, you're far too sensitive after your last orgasm but you're greedy. You want more. You want to please, you want nothing more than to be good for him. Especially if that means that you'll find only the greatest of pleasures in the process. This third and final orgasm has you spasming, bucking against his chest as broken cries wail out in unison with his own sweet groans of pleasure. God, you wish you weren't in this position, you wish you could keep your eyes open. You wanted to see his face when he came, but then again, there'll be a next time. Won't there? All yours after all. Greedy. You never thought you'd be this greedy.

   You can still feel him bucking into you shallowly before finally moving you back onto a pillow and pulling out carefully. You can feel exhaustion seeping deep into your bones. It takes more effort than you want to admit just to roll over and look up at Yoongi, but it's worth the exertion to see his face. His pale skin is flushed to a pretty petal pink and shining with a thin sheen of perspiration, damp hair sticking to his forehead and his eyes are glazed over in a state of numb content. Handsome doesn't really fit him, he's more pretty you would say. Beautiful really. But you won't say that. You figure most dudes wouldn't take too kindly to being called something so feminine.  So instead you just watch him quietly, drink in the sight of him as he ruffles his hair and shuffles over to your bathroom to clean up. He has a surprisingly nice ass. Christ, you really do like everything about him.

   "Do you have any baby wipes?" His voice sounds hoarse, and a part of you wants to get up and grab a cup of water for him but you're too tired to move.

   "Yeah, in the cupboard closest to the toilet I think I should have some." You hear him rummaging around before he comes out with one wipe and silently cleans you up. It feels oddly domestic, and somehow that makes you feel more awkward than when you were having sex. Christ, you've never been good at these kinds of things. But when you look at Yoongi, the way he just hums to himself as he wipes away any last remnants that have trickled onto your thighs, it's hard to not have your heart melt. He's like the human form of catnip for you, everything feels upside down and yet strangely addictive with him around. "Thanks. Are you going to spend the night?"

   He pauses for a moment, his movements halting and his eyes not meeting your own. That's okay, you're used to this. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up. "If you're okay with that, that would be nice. But I tend to sleep late, I don't want to bother you if you have to get up early."

   Well, that certainly wasn't what you were expecting. You can't help but blink up at him, words failing before manic uncontrollable giggles come tumbling out of you. You finally manage to stop long enough to wipe some stray tears out of the corner of your eyes before finally responding. "Nah, I set my own hours, we're good."

   You watched him take you in curiously, a small flicker of a smile ghosting his lips before he turned around to rummage through his jeans and grab a lighter and cigarette, about to light up before he turns around and raises an eyebrow, a silent question.

   "Go ahead, but I don't have any ashtrays so you can use a cup or something." You point to the empty water cup by your bed before slipping under the covers, watching him take a deep drag and shut his eyes. The silence would probably feel unbearable with anyone else, but for some reason, it's soothing with him. You have absolutely no clue what you've gotten yourself into with him. Strings firmly attached to whatever the fuck this is, as per his rules. And yours too. You did agree. You want to break this all down, pick it apart and analyze this entire rendezvous piece by piece to make sense of it. You've never been this type of girl before. Impulsive, brash, hedonistic, quick. That's the only way you can describe this. No you were always slow to act, but quick to think until Min Yoongi snarked his way into your heart. And yet it feels so right. Shit. What does that mean? You wish you could think about this more, but the moment you feel his long fingers brushing your hair soothingly you're lulled into sleep.

   That night you dream of his lips on yours, sweaty skin sticking to sheets and the orchestral sound of his groans mixing with slick skin hitting skin. Christ, you're so screwed. Having sex with him isn't enough, not even in your dreams. You aren't sure why he's so all-consuming, but one thing is for certain: he isn't the only one with nefarious intentions.

[dragonastra]

1-100 on the DnD questions, for Deah >:3

Wow you're sure as hell fishing to kill me huh xD

I'll answer these under a read more cuz FUCK. I'll also try to keep it spoiler free -- I may mention stuff that hasn't come up in game but it would be stuff that might not ever come up explicitly anyway. Everything else has either been said or can be gleaned.

If your character wasn’t an adventurer, what livelihood would they lead Probably what she had been doing -- being a pirate

Who in the party would your character trust the most with their life Probably Maddie and/or Gael. Maddie is a divine soul sorcerer and probably the one Deah is closest to. Gael is our barbarian/paladin who is probably the emotional backbone of the group? He is very earnest and genuine, and also hits like a brick house.

What are your character’s core moral beliefs? [Brushes off notes I made like a year ago] Promises must be kept, and debts one day fulfilled. Clean up the messes you made. Family is more important than self. Survival means not letting the past define you. (Not all morals but those are her ideals)

What relationship does your character have with their parents and siblings? She has a twin brother, whom she would die for. Their relationship used to be solid, but theyve currently broken apart somewhat due to lies and building tension, and the brother needing to go his own way. She is still very broken up about it. Her parents are both dead, and she has not spoken of much closeness there, but describes them as "they tried their best." Her pirate captain was basically a surrogate father for her teenage years and onward until their separation, and she... misses him.

Does your character have any biases for or against certain races? Not really. She probably doesnt trust ratfolk based on where she grew up, but beyond that? If you're good, you're good.

What is your character’s opinion on nobility? On authority? (: fuck em. She is... shall we say... less inclined to help rich people.

Describe your character’s current appearance: clothes, armor, scars they’ve picked up along the journey, etc. She's grown out her undercut so she has an asymmetrical style, one side of her head buzzed. She is still wearing her bright red pirate coat, but now wears a dark brown vest with purple accents underneath, as well as a long black sleeve to cover magical scars she received when she accepted a warlock pact with the hunter god. Also covering her scars is a gauntlet made by Maddie, so that they can't be detected by Detect Good and Evil and such.

What location encountered in the campaign has your character felt the most “at home” in, or just generally liked the most? Sometimes she still thinks about that nap she had on the beach at a random island they had stopped at to restock on food.

What deity, if any, does your character worship? What’s their opinion on other people’s worship? As i mentioned, she has a pact with the hunter god, Erastil. She does not worship him. In fact, she rather doesnt like gods much. She doesnt really understand other worshippers, but if they're not hurting anyone with it she doesn't really care. Their worship doesnt affect her.

If your character had time to pick up any artisan’s tools, game set, instrument, etc., what would it be? Let's get this binch some navigator's tools finally!

Describe your character’s current relationship with the player character sitting to your right. We are entirely online so we don't really have table seating. Based on the order of our nicknames in discord though, that would be... Haru, our new kitsune Oracle who joined us to fill a gap while some other players went on hiatus. Deah is uncertain about him, and she is generally pretty wary about strangers in her party, but he is useful. Their relationship is not deep by any means tbh.

What is your character’s current goal, summed up in one sentence? Stop the lord of the sea, and stop Aleksander.

Does your character ever want to “settle down” with a spouse, children, house, etc.? ;) you'll have to ask her

Has your character ever been in love? Before the campaign, certainly not. She's hella ace, and doesn't open up easily, so she's got some confusing feelings right now for Maddie ;)

What battle in the campaign has been most memorable to your character The battle against Tokt, since this was the battle that she was able to help save a person from being possessed by a demon -- something she figured out beforehand and convinced her team about.

If your character wasn’t whatever class they are, what would they be instead? I mean... probably a fighter???? Or maybe a full warlock, if she was desperate enough.

What is your character’s favorite season? Probably the fall? Sailing is usually good during that time, plus the harvest is coming in on land, so there's a lot of fresh food.

What would your character’s Zodiac sign be, following stereotypical astrology? She would be an Aries based on her birthday! Our homebrew world just uses "Season Day" as time markers, with 90 days each season. She was born on Spring 12, which would translate to the first week of April.

Where in the world does your character most want to visit? She's been all over as an adventurer and a sailor. The place she'd like to visit the most is one she doesn't know about -- somewhere important to her old captain.

What is the biggest mistake your character has ever made? Deah would maybe even say joining the pirates. It was the happiest she'd ever been, but it led her brother to a path he regrets and feels pain over, and she feels a... bit guilty about that.

Does your character have any noticeable scars? If so, what are their stories? The only scars she has are from her pact to Erastil. She hides them, though. She's not ashamed of them, but she likes to keep them to herself... she's private like that.

What animal best represents your character? I always liken her to a hawk, especially a sea hawk. In some ways she’s like a cobra or a porcupine too -- kind of hard to get close to!

If your character could go back in time and change one thing about their life, what would it be? 😬

Which other player character does your character find themselves having the most in common with? I don't know about most in common, really, but she gets along easiest with Ro, our halfling. Their banter is 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻. Honestly though? She probably has the most in common with Mercy, our tiefling fighter/paladin.

Does your character regret any particular choice the party has made? She probably regrets the party not staying behind in a certain town after a powerful enemy escaped. They thought the immediate threat had been dealt with and that another team from their guild could keep watch over the town, but then that team got surprised by an undead and two of them died. She feels at least partially responsible for that.

What would your character say their best trait would be? Her ability to perceive and track things. She has the observant feat plus the invocation that lets her see through even magical darkness!

What is your character’s greatest fear? Deep, irrational? Being abandoned.

What is currently motivating your character to stay with the party? No where else to go, really. Like, sure, she likes at least most of them and they've been through a lot!!! And she DOES you know, feel like this is a stable job, and she does feel good helping people. But... she really does have no where else to go. :(

What are your character’s hobbies and interests outside of their class? She does enjoy reading, though she's a little slow. Her favorite books are detective/mystery novels! She also sometimes likes to practice magic tricks (like... sleight of hand stuff). And technically this isnt outside of her class, but she really does enjoy training. Let's her burn off steam.

What would most people think when they first see your character? Pretty little waif, but that resting bitch face looks like she will cut me of I even say hello (this is by design).

What stereotypical group role does your character play in the party? (The Mom, the Mess, the Comic Relief, etc. Optionally: What role would your character play in the “Five Man Band” structure?) [Googles five man band] probably Lancer. Initially she wanted to be the Leader type but with the group dynamics and her own insecurities and issues, that isnt really truly possible for her. But she still tries to lead...

What is your character the most insecure about? :)

What person does your character admire most? Her old ship captain. Her DEAD ship captain :(

What does your character admire and dislike the most about the player character sitting to your left? She admires maddie's strength and kindness (and to a degree, innocence). Maddie's cooking skills. Maddie's family. She dislikes how nervous/anxious and possibly depressed Maddie can get :c

Why is your character’s lowest stat their lowest (the in-character reason, not “because there’s no reason for a wizard to have 16 strength, duh”)? Her lowest stat is strength, and her second lowest is constitution. This is because she grew up poor, and was at times starving and definitely malnourished. Once she was om the pirate ship, she was regularly fed though.

What would be your character’s theme song/favorite band/favorite genre of music? I've been saying if she was in modern time, her favorite band would be Florence and the Machine. There's just something about the Florence sound that speaks to her. She'd definitely be into that kind of music, plus some heavier stuff leaning more towards metal or symphonic metal...

What stereotypical role would your character play in a high school AU/if they attended a normal high school? (Nerd, jock, bully, goth, etc.) She's got the soul of a goth but the hobbies of a jock (in our team's college AU she's totally on the fencing and sailing teams). When I've drawn her in modern day she is usually wearing athleisure (capris leggings, loose tank top, sports bra, e.g.) but also it's mostly dark colors. She's Joth.

What treasure/item/artifact that your character has collected during the adventure is the most important to them? Toby :) just kidding, the pseudodragon isn't an item!!! Specifically collected during the adventure, probably her force blade. Her brother had found it, but had given it to her, near the beginning of the adventure.

Is there any particular weapon, item, etc. that your character longs to find? She's not really looking out for items, no.

Where does your character feel the most at home? On the beach, on the ship. Specific locations to call home, she does finally feel like she has a stable place to call home in the patty's estate.

Does your character care about how they’re perceived by others? How do they change themselves to fit in with other people? She's worn disguises and fake names before, but that's mostly to protect herself during her pirate years. She doesn't care a whole lot, but she does want to appear somewhat intimidating so that unsavoury people won't approach her LMAO. But she also wants to be seen as nice by children and poor folk, so she does soften a bit when they're around.

What does your character think is the true meaning of life? Happiness. Safety. Survival. Family/community.

What is your character’s scent? (Bonus points for a description that sounds like it could be from a bad [or awesome] fanfic.) She's always got a slight scent of salt on her, reminding you just a bit of the sea. For herself, she prefers to just smell... clean, so there's a fresher floral scent lingering...

Does your character think more with their heart or their brain? She tries to think more with her brain but sometimes the bottled up emotions get to be a bit much.

What is your character’s most recent or frequent nightmare? BEING. ABANDONED.

What opinion does your character have on [CERTAIN ESTABLISHED GROUPS/AUTHORITIES IN THE GAME WORLD]? (Dragonmarked Houses, royal crown, etc.) She hates (most) rich people and used to be a pirate, so you can kind of figure it out.

How did your character spend their childhood? Where did they grow up/who were their childhood friends? :(

What aspect of your character’s future are they most curious about? (If they could know one thing about the future, what would it be?) I dunno man she is just taking things one step at a time.

What colors are associated with your character? Red is her primary color. She also uses blacks/dark grays and a light purple as an accent. She's using more brown now tho to represent her connection to the hunter god.

Who in the party would your character prioritize rescuing, in dire circumstances? Maddie always. Then Ro. Then Gael. Haru would probably be up there because he is squishy and also mostly blind.

Is your character the most swayed by ethos, pathos, or logos? A mix of pathos and logos is most effective on Deah. Logos probably most of all, but there are pathos buttons that hold away above all that... if you know which buttons to press.

If your character was granted a single use of Wish, what would they use it for? Currently? To bring back her pirate captain. She knows its selfish but...

What is your character’s favorite spell? If they don’t use spells: what is their favorite personal weapon/combat maneuver/skill/etc.? Her favorite spell is stab with rapier.

How does your character feel about keeping secrets from the rest of the party? She keeps secrets pretty regularly! Basically if the party needs to know, then the secret should be shared. But if it doesnt really affect the group or something important, and the person doesnt want to share, then go ahead and keep the secret.

What type of creature in the world is your character the most intrigued by? Dragons probably, at this point. Definitely an influence by me the player, haha, but it's buoyed by an early meeting with a particular dragon that sparked her interest.

When they were a child, what did your character want to be, or think they were going to be, when they grew up?  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ she didnt have life plans as a kid. She just wanted her and her brother to live.

The player character to your left admits that they’re passionately in love with your character. How would your character respond? That's already happened LMAO. Deah didnt know how to react so her brain blur screened and she ran away from the situation for a bit.

If somebody (an NPC, someone from their backstory, etc.) your character trusts/loves asked your character to do something against the party’s best interest, who would they side with? If it only involved herself, Deah would probably go do it. But if it was a huge net loss for the group, she wouldn't, if that makes sense? It's hard to make sweeping statements like that.

Does your character value their own best interest more than the party’s? She values her own interest for sure, but she would prioritize the party's if one meant dunking on the other. She knows what it's like to sail with a tight knit crew; sometimes you sacrifice to make the group as a whole better/happier.

What decision would the party have to make in order for your character to consider splitting off from the group? Oh gosh, uh.... I mean, if they decide to help her enemies (not likely to happen, there are a couple shared ones). If they don't let her do something she REALLY wants... I can't really think of anything specific.

How does your character imagine the way they will die? Tragically. 

What is your character’s greatest achievement? Taming her pseudodragon ;w;

Is your character willing to risk the well-being of others in order to achieve their goal? Hmm... not to a certain degree. Eh, probably not. She only really wants to risk herself, not others. Risking others doesn't give them the choice.

What is your character’s opinion on killing others? She does it all the time!! But if they're defenseless or not fighting back, she won't.

What is your character’s favorite food? Beverage? She really loves fresh baked bread!! As for beverage, uh.... I guess she'd like water with like, something fruity mixed in???

How generous is your character? Especially to those they don’t know? To the poor and to kids? Very. Also, recently, she gave all of the money she got from a quest to a townsperson to help them rebuild their city a bit (secretly of course. Not even her team knows she did that, though maybe some of them suspect hahaha)

What is your character the most envious about, regarding anyone in the party? Once again... probably most envious of Maddie!! She comes up a lot doesn't she ;P

The player character to your left and the player character to your right are both telling your character two different versions of the truth. Who does your character believe? Maddie vs Haru? Shed probably lean towards Maddie :p

What is your character’s sexuality/relationship with sex? I've described Deah as Panromantic Asexual. She is rather sex averse and has difficulty pinpointing romantic feelings as well, being rather prickly at times.

What is your character’s biggest pet peeve? When people try to dig into something she doesn't want to share at the moment.

Describe how your character feels about the party’s current situation/objective/etc. The current objective/situation involves her backstory, so you'll see soon ;)

Who in the party would your character trust the most to keep an important secret? Maddie of course! She trusts Gael, but not with secrets. Similarly, she trusts Mercy to hold an oath to the best of her ability, but not if a secret comes up -- same with Rudi. Ro does what she wants LMAO and she isnt telling Haru anything personal atm.

If your character knew that they were going to die in a month, how would they spend the rest of their life? I dont want to think about that question and neither does Deah

What makes your character feel safe? Having her weapons. Having her pact/her pact scars.

If your character had the chance to rename the party/give the party a name, no questions asked, what would it be? Nah, she likes Fortune's Blades

What memory does your character want to forget the most? Cal leaving. It's probably her most painful memory.

If your character had to multiclass into a class they currently aren’t the next time they level up, what would it be and what reason would they have for doing so? She's already multi classed and her reasons for becoming a warlock are kind of muddied. She explained them initially but maaaaybe wasn't 100% truthful. If she had to pick a third, probably uh.... fighter?????

What television/book/video game/etc. character would your character be best friends with? (Or: what media character is your character the most influenced by/similar to?) I would HOPE she would be friends with Elizabeth Swan (: but idk lol

What unusual talents does your character possess? Sharp senses and magic tricks.

How does your character feel about receiving/giving orders? Are they more of a leader, or a follower? It's rather situational. She tries to be a leader type, but she also realizes she's not at the top of the leader chain (and, with her party, at times different people take the head, so it's almost more consult-y like).

What does your character’s name represent to them? (Or: why as a player did you choose your character’s name?) The player of Cal, her brother, chose his name first from a generator. I like to construct my names sometimes from different name elements, so I made hers to match the sound of her twin's (that is, make it sound like it came from the same language). Her name is constructed of "Feld-" (field) and "-Deah" (dye) so her first name translates roughly to "field of dye." Her original last name is Shearwater, which is a real life sea bird but also follows the traditional elven naming convention (their dad was an elf). She never felt much of an attachment to her last name. She recently changed her last name to Blackheart, which was the moniker of her captain.

Is your character more of an introvert, or an extrovert? Introvert for sure

How far is your character willing to go to pursue the “greater good”? Do they believe in a greater good at all? She would go as far as she needs to, but would never force others to make that same decision.

What does your character want to be remembered by? At one point she thought she would eventually be a famous pirate captain. But mostly I think she just wants to be remembered by those who love her and by those she helped...

What would be your character’s major in college? Fuck, uh... I had discussed this before.... I think I made her pre-law??? Math major???

Does your character consider themselves a hero, villain, or something else? Something else. She doesn't really care about that, she's just Being.

What major arcana tarot card best represents your character? I believe last it was discussed I had picked the Chariot for her.

Where does your character see themselves in 20 years? If not dead from adventuring, then settled somewhere nice, hopefully...

What is your character’s relationship with magic? Are they scared of it, wish to know more about it, indifferent to it? For a long time she was the Sokka of the group, the only non-magic user. Then she got her pact. She's still kind of awkward about it, and at times really doesn't like magic, but she sees it as a tool. A means to an end.

Who is your character’s biggest rival? Rival?????? I guess Morrigan tbh??? Cuz a rival isn't an enemy, and she had a thing going with Morrigan (her player is on hiatus tho). In some ways she rivals Mercy too. A dance of similarities and differences.

What is your character’s guiltiest pleasure? Fine, beautiful dresses. She doesn't own any, because it's a waste of money, but.... she wants them. Secretly.

What does your character hope for the afterlife? Peace and rest.

Who in the party does your character trust the least? Haru, currently, simply by virtue of being new.

What is your character’s biggest flaw? BIGGEST flaw???? Uhhhmmm..... Her secrecy probably. Her tendency to run away from really big, painful problems, to bottle up her emotions around that until everything just gets worse.

How did your character learn the languages that they speak? Common, prucrician and Elvish she learned just growing up. Deep, she just... mysteriously knows. Doesn't know why she can speak it. Draconic she learned at first from Rudi, and then from a dragonborn NPC to finish her lessons during a timeskip.

What is your character’s favorite school of magic/type of weaponry? Rapier

What is most important to your character: health, wealth, or happiness? Why must she choose? Wealth, because that brings health and happiness in her eyes. (Because money buys food and when you have food.....)

What advice would your character give to a younger version of themselves? I know it's hard, but open up more. You don't have to keep it to yourself to protect others. Your brother can be your friend as well... you don't have to just keep holding yourself back for your friends and family.

Are there any social or political issues your character feels strongly about? She doesn't feel super strongly about politics, having been a pirate. She feels strongly about protecting children and poor though, as I've mentioned.

What, currently, is your character the most curious about? The afterlife. Erastil, but specifically just that one god. Her ship captain.

[yastaghr]

Carried Skeleton 10

Time for an update of Carried Skeleton! This chapter has some serious warnings. Chara has come up with their deadly plan, so if that will trigger you, please skip the bottom half. The only other thing of note in it is that they make Sans promise not to let a human hurt him.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17443730/chapters/57707773

Empty eye sockets stared at the burning husk of a door. Sans was struck dumb by the sight. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. He just stood there and stared and the burning remnants of the monster he admired more than any other.

He could still remember the day he had found out that this house was for sale. It wasn’t even a question for him. He had made the offer with as much cash as he could get his hands on in less time than it would have taken him to walk all the way down there. No one else even bid on the house; Sans suspected that no one else could even remember that the house existed for long. That was the effect of what had happened to Gaster. Everything that was connected to him became unmemorable.

This house, the family home that Gaster had grown up in but rarely went to, still held his biggest secret. In the back of the house, hidden under a giant tarp, was the machine. Sans honestly had no idea what it did. It was big, it was complicated, and it was Gaster’s. That’s all that mattered to him. He spent hours fiddling with the thing just to try and figure out what it was. He failed.

Now Sans was terrified to crawl into the ruins of the basement and find out if that machine had survived. He knew it would all be back in the next RESET but that didn’t matter to him right now. What mattered was that there was someone else, who not only could see the little hidden door, but could get into the locked basement, had broken in and destroyed the only connection Sans had to the Uncle he loved and admired more than any other monster. So when he heard the sound of dirt being bowled aside Sans spun around with herbicide on his mind. Flowey had a scared and worried expression on his face. Sans didn’t believe it for a moment.

“what do you want?” Sans growled. The voice spell gave him an unnatural ability to make any sound he could imagine.

“I came to warn you! I saw a really shady monster messing around with this door back here. I already told Papyrus, and I’ve been searching everywhere to find you!” Flowey said. Sans could practically read the lie on his face.

“yeah right,” Sans snarled, his voice deep, rumbling, and capable of scaring the daylights out of humans and monsters alike.  “you and paps are the only other people i know who can see this place. don’t even try to convince me it was him. there’s no way Papyrus would do something like this.” That was when Sans made the biggest mistake of his young life. He summoned his best attack, the blaster that Gaster had designed for him personally, and said, “now, do your weird little timeline thing. otherwise you’re in for a bad time.”

Flowey’s face switched away from concern in less than a second. His mouth twisted into a cruel smile with four fangs nearly meeting in the middle. His normally small slits that Sans couldn’t help but think of as eye sockets were blown wide, baring the red pin pricks in the center of the sockets that turned his whole face from amiable to evil.

“I knew it,” Flowey said in a chuckle, “You do remember. What is it, smiley trashbag? Are you upset that I destroyed your little toy?”

That nickname was like a slap to the face. Sans scowled. No one should call him that but his siblings! Without even thinking about it Sans let the Gaster Blaster he had summoned loose on the tiny little plant. He didn’t even bother to dodge. The paltry 1 DMG Sans could deal did hardly any damage at all, which meant that Flowey hadn’t hurt or killed anyone this time around. Darn it. Sans relied so much on that Karmic Retribution of his. He was useless in a fight without it.

Even now he could feel the heavy drain on his magic from the blaster forcing him to his knees. When they hit the dirt Sans heard it. Flowey’s laughter would haunt him for a long, long time to come. The blaster fizzled out as he fell over. He’d used up all his magic on that one spell. As he slipped into unconsciousness, cursing his own inability to judge his own stamina, Sans heard those terrifying words.

“Now, let’s see. What do I want to do to you first?”

=====

Chara groaned as they got up from their position kneeling on the floor. 82 years was a long time to be alive for a human, and their arthritis was nearly crippling them now. That wasn’t the only thing that was wrong with them. They hadn’t told Mom, but they couldn’t see out of their left eye anymore and could barely see out of their right. They suspected it was linked to those white floaters in their eyes. It made life difficult to say the least. And there were so many times now that they felt their heart skip a beat. They weren’t sure how much longer they could take it.

That exhaustion with their own body had led them to the plan. It was simple, really, and inevitable, too. Dad was always going on about how they were going to be the saviour of monsterkind. Now they were dying, so they needed to make that death count.

They’d done their research about this. Any monster could absorb their soul after they died and go through the Barrier with it. If they did that, then they could find some humans, kill them, and take their souls back to the Underground and use them to break the Barrier. That would let the monsters they loved finally see the sun they so longed to see. Dying would be worth setting them free.

The only part of the plan they weren’t sure about was that monster. Who could they convince to do it? Mom and Dad would try to stop them, Papyrus was too nice, and Sans was too young. No one else was close enough to them that they would feel good about letting them absorb their soul. Also, they would need to be there when Chara died, and Chara was pretty sure that Mom wouldn’t let a stranger in to do that. That left Azriel. He was easy to convince to do things, but he was so gentle… they’d just have to be the one in control when the killing began. And they’d need a good story to convince him to do it in the first place. What could they say?

Chara looked over at the wall of artwork and saw the pictures they had drawn for Sans. One in particular stood out. It was the one they had drawn of the flowers from their home village. Maybe that would work. They could tell Azzy that they wanted to see the flowers from their village one last time. He was sentimental. That would definitely work on him.

There was one last thing that they needed to be sure about before they started on the plan. They shuffled their painful way to where Sans was drawing. He looked up and smiled at them. They smiled back. “Sans. Can I ask you something?”

Sans nodded. “uh-huh.”

Chara swallowed. “Can you promise me something? I want you to promise me that you won’t ever let a human hurt you. Can you do that for me?”

Sans swallowed. He already had such a serious attitude when it came to promises. Chara knew he would keep it, though. He was obsessive about keeping his promises. He hated giving them out, too. They knew it was a lot to ask him to to do this, but they needed to know.

“...yeah,” Sans said slowly, stretching the word out, “i can do that. why? won’t you be here to do it for me?”

“I’m… going to go away soon,” Chara explained slowly, “and I won’t be coming back.”

Tears welled up in Sans’ eye sockets. “b-but why? don’t you love us anymore?”

Chara instantly got down on their aching knees and pulled Sans into their lap. “Of course I do. I will always, always love you, smiley trashbag. But… I need to do this, okay?”

Sans sniffled, “okay… can i draw a picture of you to keep with me? please?”

Chara nodded. “You can draw as many as you want, Sansy. I’ll even do some silly poses. What do you want me to do first?”

Sans grinned. “well…”

[arotechno]

Aromantic-Official’s Pride Month 2018 Questions!

It’s time for me to finally answer the weekly pride month questions set up by @aromantic-official! I realize it’s the last week of pride month and I’m only doing these now, but I’m a mod. So I get to break the rules. ;)

I apologize in advance, as this post is going to be a monster.

June 1-2: Pride Month Kickoff!

1. What aro pride merch do you have and/or want?

As of right now, all I’ve got is an aro bracelet that my friend made me for my birthday and a green aro ring that I got for a dollar. I would like to get my hands on an aro flag, and some pins or something... but I don’t have the money to throw at pride merch right now! Subtle merch is also good, as I’m out to precisely 3 people offline.

2. What are some of your favorite aro-friendly songs? (Feel free to make a playlist!)

Here. Or for more aro playlists besides mine, my aro jams tag.

3. What are your favorite arospec symbols?

I guess just the flag (the version that I use in my icon)? Arrow symbolism is also cool. Or, if you’re from the arocalypse crowd: papos. Although that might be a dated reference now...

(weeks 1-4 under the cut because I’m nice)

Questions for Week One (June 3-9):

1. How did you realize you were aro/arospec? How long have you known?

It was the spring of 2014, when I was a freshman in high school. For most of my life, I never really thought about or questioned my orientation. I figured I would know what I was when I felt it. But I always knew I didn’t get crushes, and figured that wasn’t weird and that I’d get them eventually... That didn’t end up happening, as you might imagine. I was never ashamed of who I was, though--not until people made me feel that way, and I realized maybe I really was different or weird. Thankfully, I had stumbled across asexuality, and consequently aromanticism (this was 2014; if you think it’s hard to find information about aromanticism outside of ace spaces now, think about how it was back then), before that point. It just didn’t really click until somewhere down the line. And even then, I waffled on aromanticism vs. asexuality for quite a bit, feeling more drawn to the ace community due to its size and its exposure, and frankly I couldn’t tell which one I was, though eventually I realized that was because I was both! It’s been several years and I’ve grown a lot, and I’ve become more in tune to my aromanticism apart from my asexuality.

2. Have you come out to anyone? Share a coming out story (coming out to yourself also counts)!

It’s funny, I was just thinking about this yesterday. I’m out as aromantic to three people irl, but I’ve never actually properly come out on my own terms. Two of my friends were peripherally involved at the time that I realized I was aromantic, so they were kind of a part of the realization and I never had to explicitly tell them that I had figured out this part of myself. The third friend came to understand my feelings about attraction before I eventually told her the words. But I’ve never had somebody in my life who presumed I was straight that I was able to explicitly decide I wanted to tell that I wasn’t.

In terms of coming out to myself, it took me about a year after realizing I was aroace to say the words out loud to myself. Sophomore year of high school was when I really began to fully accept that this was who I am and that I could say it and be proud of it, rather than it just being a peripheral aspect of my life that I had to pretend didn’t affect me (because we’re so often taught that we’re supposed to be just like everyone else despite our sexuality, but I have always felt that it made me explicitly not like everyone else, and that was the problem). So I said to myself, in the mirror, “I’m aromantic and asexual.” And I started writing it in my journal. At this point, I was in a weird place where I wasn’t even sure my two closest friends knew I was aroace and that it wasn’t just something I had speculated. It took me until the end of that school year to start using the word not only to myself, but to them as well. Even now, I still talk circles around it sometimes. Internalized aphobia is a real pain in the ass.

3. How/Why is your aromanticism important to you/your identity?

My aromanticism shapes how I see the world in a lot of ways. It affects me every day of my life. It influences my views on philosophy, relationships, my experiences with gender... I can’t relate to the majority of the world’s population on such a basic level that I’m often left wondering what my place in the world is and feeling like I’m living in a different universe altogether. It’s frustrating, but it can also be exciting. I’m proud of the way being aromantic has shaped me. I think the ways I view the world make sense, and being aromantic has a lot to do with it.

I consider myself to be an existentialist, and accepting that my emotional wants, needs, and experiences didn’t line up with the marriage/kids/white picket fence narrative that I was always expected to follow really helped me realize that if I don’t have to follow that narrative, then I don’t have to follow any narrative at all. I can do whatever I want with my life, and there’s no cosmic reason for me to do anything else. That’s voidpunk, baby.

4. What are some misconceptions about aromanticism that bother you?

That we’re heartless. That we don’t feel less emotions/weaker emotions than alloromantic people, or generally equating romance with emotions. That we need a QPR or other type of non-romantic partnership to fill a void where romantic relationships “should be.” That aromanticism must modify or be secondary to one’s sexual orientation. That we don’t risk being dehumanized or cut off from people around us when we come out. Arophobia in general.

5. What’s something you like about being aro/arospec? Something you dislike?

I love the arospec community first and foremost, and as I mentioned above I love the way aromanticism shapes my view of the world. I love that the aro community, though we are stereotyped as being heartless, is so full of love and compassion for one another that we can’t even argue with each other, we just have pleasant, generally civil discussions and often end up reaching mutual conclusions. I love that I can make this entire long-winded post about my experiences and not only will people read it, but they’ll appreciate it and respect it.

I hate not being understood. I hate the fact that I don’t want to come out because I’m afraid I’ll have to give an emotionally taxing vocab lesson and/or be dismissed or ridiculed and/or be called a heartless monster. I hate that we don’t have any mainstream representation that doesn’t get ripped from our hands by people who claim we do not deserve it. I hate that there are no aromantic role models in the public eye living happy lives for us to look up to; but then again, I have a secret fondness for being part of a generation that future aromantics will be able to look up to.

Questions for Week Two (June 10-16):

1. What aro-spectrum labels, terms, descriptors, and identities do you identify with?

I identify as aromantic. I also use nonamorous as a descriptor a lot of the time. That’s pretty much it. The term arogender kind of speaks to me in a way (I was there when it was coined!), as my experience with gender does feel influenced by my aromanticism, but I don’t know that I’m particularly inclined to use it for myself. I like to keep things simple, I guess.

2. Talk about other aspects of your identity that are important to you, that are meaningful parts of you like your aromanticism, such as ethnicity, sexual orientation, gender, neurodivergence, mental illness, chronic illness, disabilities, etc.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m asexual as well as being aromantic. They kind of go hand-in-hand for me, but I’m much more open about being asexual if only because it’s more commonly understood and accepted. Several years ago, I was much more connected to the ace community than the aro community, but in the last couple of years that dynamic has completely flip-flopped. I feel more at home in the aromantic community, as the ace community often feels to me more focused on navigating romantic relationships while asexual, and as an aromantic I really don’t find any solace in that. The ace community has also thrown me and my aro and aroace siblings under the bus multiple times, which often makes me feel unwelcome, unfortunately.

3. How do other aspects of your identity intersect with or affect your aromanticism?

Other aspects of my identity don’t affect my aromanticism that much. On the contrary, my aromanticism affects my gender. I identify primarily as a cis female, but even saying I identify that way feels too strong, as it’s a pretty loose identification. Because of the ways in which misogyny, heteronormativity, and amatonormativity intersect, so much of traditional womanhood is based around finding romance, 99% of the time with a man. There isn’t really a subversive narrative for aro women. And femininity often feels like a costume designed to make me appear straight and allo and proper and headed for marriage. tl;dr gender machine broke.

4. Have any of your identities impacted you realizing you were aromantic, your questioning process, or coming to terms with it?

If you want to get obvious, asexuality directly helped me realize I was aromantic in that I would not have known that aromanticism existed without it. So thanks, ace community. You did do me a solid at one point or another.

Questions for Week Three (June 17-23):

1. What is your favorite aspect of the aro and arospec community?

I mentioned this earlier: I love how open, inclusive, accepting, and willing to have civil and productive discussion the aro community is. The aro community has also given me basically everything, especially the arocalypse gang (hi, guys). Without a community behind me, this blog would not exist, and I would feel devastatingly alone.

2. Are there any notable differences in your experiences in this community and other LGBTQIA+ spaces you have been in?

In general, compared to larger LGBTQIA+ spaces, the aro community on tumblr is obviously a lot smaller and more tight knit, which makes for an inherently different environment. Smaller voices somehow still speak so loud. That’s symptomatic of its size more than anything, and I haven’t been active in enough larger spaces to say much else.

The only other specific LGBTQIA+ spaces I’ve been in are asexual ones, and while there is some overlap between the two, aromantic spaces feel much more inclusive to me. Though that is likely due to the fact that asexual spaces do still put a focus on romance, while aromantic spaces certainly wouldn’t. The aromantic community is one of a kind and an absolute treasure, I guess is what I’m trying to say.

3. What’s one way that the aro community could be better or more inclusive? Do you have any tips on improving in this regard?

I think the aro community could take further steps to improve accessibility (I mean, look at me, I’m writing out this long-ass monster of a post. I’m part of the problem.). But I don’t really have any tips, considering I just broke one of my own suggestions... Don’t listen to me, I’ve got no idea what I’m talking about.

4. Do you think there are flaws in the way that different types of attractions are navigated, discussed, and defined in the aro community?

Yes. I talk about this from time to time on here... This is probably a hot take, but to me, defining types of attraction too rigidly, while it is helpful for tons of people, can often lead to an accidental hierarchy of types of attraction or relationships. For example, putting alterous attraction over platonic attraction, or queerplatonic relationships over more traditional platonic ones. I’m not saying anyone does this, at least not on purpose, but I think it’s at least a potential issue.

5. Do you consider yourself nonamorous, amorous, aplatonic, experiencing queerplatonic attraction, etc., or do you not use those terms? Are you romance positive, neutral, repulsed, or don’t use those labels? Do these answers intersect?

I’m nonamorous and romance repulsed. I’m not sure if they intersect, to be honest.

6. Have you ever been in a relationship you would consider committed, such as a queerplatonic/quasiplatonic, romantic, soft romo, friends-with-benefits, or others? How did being arospec affect that and the boundaries you set?

Nope. Again, nonamorous.

Questions for Week Four (June 24-30):

1. Have you ever participated in any pride events, such as parades and festivals? If so, do you feel welcome at these events? If not, would you want to go?

I haven’t. I would go, but I don’t really know how welcome I feel... And I’d need to go without being suspicious, which is pretty much impossible.

2. Do you celebrate pride month? If so, how do you celebrate? If not, why?

Hell, I’m doing it right now! I’ve been working on these questions with the other mods all month. Thaaaat’s about it, as there isn’t much to do around me except for go to pride, and I already explained why that was off the table.

3. Do you have any creative contributions to the aro community (art, comics, writing, moodboards, music, zines, informational posts, etc.)? Which do you like making the most? If you instead support aro creatives, what category of aro creations do you like best?

Hi, yeah, this blog. Shoutout to any of my followers who have been here since last year when all I posted on this blog was my writing... I guess you got more than you signed up for.

I write primarily short fiction for the aro community. I take soulmate prompts and spin them to be aromantic, and usually sad. Soulmates are a concept I hate with all my cold aro heart, so starting this blog was a mean of reclaiming that idea and making it a little less painful for myself and hopefully other aros. I’ve posted about this a thousand times, so I won’t go into more detail.

4. How do you feel aro creatives have impacted the community? Show some love to your favorite aro creators by @’ing them in this post and reblogging a bunch of their stuff. If you don’t have any favorites, now is a good opportunity to find a few!

Without aro creatives, we would have pretty much 0 content in general, as no one else seems to care about creating anything for us. @aroworlds is doing amazing work not only creating wonderful aro content but connecting other aro creators with one another and spreading the word. @aroacearborvitae makes moodboards and edits that brighten my day every time I see them. @arotryinghisbest is writing a novel if you want to go show him your support!

5. Is representation in mainstream media important to you? What about smaller, niche media? If so, why, and in what form would you like it to take?

Both are important, but for different reasons. I’m so thirsty for mainstream aromantic content that I would sell my soul for just one canon aromantic character on television. We need visibility, and we need people to know that we’re out here and that we exist and that we’re not broken or messed up or lying. But niche media is also important, as it often supports aromantic creators directly, and supporting small creators and media outlets is really important. Niche media can even sometimes be a gateway into mainstream media, if it picks up enough steam. Give me aro characters, please!

And that’s that. If you made it this far, congratulations, and thank you. Happy pride month! See you in the future when I hopefully start posting some more actual content...

[fannishcodex]

oh no not another quickly brainstormed AU/theory that’s growing out of control

and for a new fandom: OK KO Let’s Be Heroes!

About Professor Venomous!

Okay, so I have a lot of (positive) thoughts about Prof Venomous’ first appearance in the episode “We’re Captured!”--

But the one relevant to this post is this stray thought I had about the episode.

I always wondered when Prof Venomous spots K.O. , if it’s just him realizing there’s something up and realizing a hero’s here...or if it’s also because he recognizes K.O. specifically. If there’s a connection between Prof Venomous and K.O. . And I wondered if that’s something the show subtly covers up for now with the idea that Prof Venomous in the episode plot is just finally figuring out what Lord Boxman has been trying to hide, rather than really exploring his full reaction in depth. 

(If I recall correctly, it’s also a shot of only K.O. that Venomous reacts to, not a group shot of all the heroes, K.O. , Enid and Rad together--so it could be that Venomous is at least partly reacting to K.O. -by-himself in particular.)

And given that K.O. ’s dad has been a mystery, K.O. and Prof Venomous at least have hair color more similar to each other’s than different (they both have dark hair), the trope “The Hero’s Mysterious Missing Father is the Bad Guy” is something the parody-themed show could play with--when I combined that with my thought that Prof Venomous’ reaction involved a specific recognition to K.O. himself that could imply a connection between the two, I wondered, “What if Prof Venomous is K.O. ’s missing father?”

(While still shipping Prof Venomous/Lord Boxman tbh. Prof Venomous is bi and things have been over between him and Carol for years, she’s a previous ex. Prof Venomous unattached and interested in Lord Boxman.)

I personally thought the idea was neat, and could make for a good fic--

AND THEN I SAW THE LABOR DAY PROMO FOR THE NEW KO EPISODE, AND NOW I’M EVEN MORE INCLINED TO THINK MY STRAY THOUGHT MIGHT HAVE MORE WEIGHT TO IT AS A THEORY.

The promo has:

-A voice that sounds a lot like Prof Venomous, I’m pretty sure it’s his character and voice actor.

-A lot of purple used, the color of Prof Venomous’ skin, and likely his signature/theme color.

-Silhouette figure that seems like it could resemble Prof Venomous’ own figure. (And the silhouette figure seems like it could be wearing a hood, meant to cover up features K.O. could recognize from a brief meeting, i.e. their brief interaction in “We’re Captured!”)

So that all makes me think the silhouette figure in the Labor Day promo is Prof Venomous.

And these lines from the voice that sounds a lot like Prof Venomous:

“I see something in you that no one else sees.”

Let me show you how to unleash it.”

Makes me think of my “Prof Venomous-is-K.O.’s-Missing-Mystery-Dad” theory. To me, those lines make me think of a familiarity--specifically, that Prof Venomous sees something in K.O. and he can show him how to unleash it, because Prof Venomous possesses something similar, and he knows K.O. has inherited it from him because they’re actually father and son.

It looks like K.O. ’s shadow self returns in the Labor Day promo, covered in purple too. I rewatched a clip of when K.O. first uses that shadow self from the “Face your Fears” episode, and even then it does have traces of people in its design, like a purple outline/glow around its shadow figure. It’s this dark shadow with purple that’s present before the Labor Day promo. That does suggest that it really is something already inside K.O. , and it is something Prof Venomous could show him how to unleash, rather than it’s all something Prof Venomous adds to K.O. , as I’ve seen others consider when theorizing it’s Prof Venomous in the Labor Day promo. I don’t think it’s that, I think it will mostly be that K.O. really does already have something, and Prof Venomous shows him how to unleash it. And I theorize that’s all because K.O. was born inheriting that something from his father Prof Venomous, who can show him how to unleash it because he’s more familiar with it, more experienced with what he ended up passing down to K.O. . 

More below the cut, including some headcanons I have about this idea.

Similar theorizing from YouTube [x] :

“Ok, here's a theory. About this dark side being inside of K.O doesn't makes any, as like the powers he have. As I can see, Carol's is all physical and strenth; so why his son has this kind of abillyties? Then I have the thought about K.O.'s father. Who was he? Where he is? Does K.O. has this powers because of him? Was the father a hero...? Or maybe a villian/anti-hero?“

And this:

“i think the idea of the man being K.O.'S dad is interesting. i bet its professor venomous, but it would give the plot so much more development and theories if it turned out to be his missing father. maybe ko's dad turned out to be a villian (maybe he participated in the robbery in the sandwich flash back) and carol separated from him because of it and now he's seen ko's ability and wants to teach him about his past and potential...but then again the villian is probably professor venomous“

But I really do think those ideas can be combined: the silhouette figure is K.O.’s dad, who is Professor Venomous. Prof Venomous is K.O.’s father.

Also there’s this:

“The man is his dad and he is teaching ok about some dark powers he really has. The man had those powers and now showing him the dark power. Ok will someday have control of them when he is older.

The thing inside him is the same one in the fear episode

I think the man is his dad

Then that means his dad is professor venomous”

Pretty much.

I can see Carol hiding the fact that Prof Venomous from K.O. because she thinks he’s too young. She has used “it’s a grown up thing/it’s an adult thing” as a reason to not to tell K.O. everything before.

I can even see her more positive words about K.O.’s mystery dad as something like an Obi-Wan thing, rather than an outright lie--Carol thinking of a time when Prof Venomous could have been different and someone she cared for, but he changed, and stopped being the man she cared for. 

This may go into more headcanon territory:

I think it would also be interesting to have Prof Venomous be K.O.’s father, and really play with that idea--like, I keep being entertained by the idea of this being played out in a generally deconstructive parody series that’s even sweet--that is, the fantastical setting meeting more domestic/personal themes in a way. K.O. actually building a relationship with his villain dad Prof Venomous. Prof Venomous didn’t even know K.O. existed until Lord Boxman’s dinner, he just immediately recognized the resemblance to his ex that he hasn’t seen in years and that gap of time could be as long as how old this kid seems to be, and who has dark hair like his--and, well. Prof Venomous and his suspicions confirmed, and he’s curious to see what else K.O. inherited from him. Later after some conflict, some gray happens--K.O. would like to get to know Prof Venomous as his dad, and Prof Venomous actually reciprocates, in his way. Carol and Prof Venomous talk, start to sorta reconcile enough that Carol more willing to let K.O. get to know Prof Venomous. Prof Venomous figuring Carol would have every reason for never telling him about K.O. before, and this is true for her reasoning. Carol and Prof Venomous as exes dealing with each other again because they both know they have a kid now. Fink as sorta K.O.’s adopted half sibling.

Definitely headcanon:

There really are a lot of wonderfully strange names in the show, but I also think about the joke where K.O. had to think and remember that his mom’s name is Carol, and that Carol did have a separate hero name, Silver Spark before. So thinking Prof Venomous is a separate villain name, and he does have another name, like Carol does. Headcanon that Kent Oliver is Professor Venomous’ other name, and Carol actually named K.O. after him, her son’s full name being  Kent Oliver when not written and said only as the initials K.O. Carol in her mind separates between Prof Venomous and Kent Oliver/K.O. Sr.; she cared more about Kent Oliver/K.O. Sr., she was thinking of him specifically when praising K.O.’s mystery dad before.

Pre-Prof Venomous/Kent Oliver/K.O. Sr.: Actually both similar to and different from Prof Venomous. Generally a nicer and more chill version of Prof Venomous before. A combination of “grown up stuff” and just generally drifting apart and changing priorities/beliefs resulted in his separation from Carol, taking on the name Prof Venomous and his villain career.

Part of what happened with Prof Venomous is why Carol seems to have pretty much stepped away from hero-and-villain industry and isn’t directly or officially involved anymore, and is more devoted to raising K.O. to be kind and thoughtful.

Carol and Prof Venomous have known each other since they were kids, and their relationship then had similarities to K.O. and Dendy’s relationship today.

K.O. very much takes after Carol the most. He only has dark hair and some abilities from Prof Venomous.

K.O.’s hair may spike at the tips a little more like Prof Venomous’ hair.

Prof Venomous’ enthusiasm for villainy and fighting heroes may be similar to K.O.’s enthusiasm for heroics and fighting villains. Prof Venomous still in villain-hero biz while Carol’s retired; and K.O. is just starting in the biz. Prof Venomous and K.O. could have more to talk about what’s currently going on in the villain-hero biz.

Carol and Prof Venomous are forever exes and are never getting back together. Prof Venomous is bi and is interested in Lord Boxman now.

Prof Venomous may have a type--drawn to a passionate fighting spirit that Boxman and Carol have.

Mr. Gar and Prof Venomous were never romantic rivals for Carol’s affections. Prof Venomous was aware of and neutral over Gar’s infatuation with Carol. Gar always a true gentleman and never tried to cause waves in the relationship between Carol and Prof Venomous. Now as Carol’s ex, Prof Venomous takes some pleasure in teasing Gar about his crush on Carol.

K.O. really wants to get along with Fink too. Fink is more grumpy over this revelation about her Boss’ personal and family life.

This is all a theory I enjoy, and canon may make it a completely fun AU come Labor Day. I’ll see soon enough.

[absolutexdarkness]

Secret Valentine’s day event hosted by @fairytailrphub​.

Present for @silverncko​

This is the first time I’ve ever attempted to incorporate Lisanna into a story and it was a lot of fun! Happy Valentine’s day! <3 An extra special addition: Lmao thank you for putting up with my dumb as heck codename - The rooster crows at midnight.

If there was one thing Lisanna could count on, whether that be on Earthland or Edolas, was the existence and companionship of Fairy Tail. It’s status of dark or legal guild was irrelevant.

It had been the guild that took her and her siblings in without so much as a second thought, accepting their dreary past for what it was with no poking nor prodding. They were simply welcomed with open arms, as a true family would.

Even when she was yanked into Edolas she received the same, kind treatment, despite the fact that that world’s Mira and Elfman both later admitted to being aware that she was not the same Lisanna that they had grown up with. Fairy Tail was still there to care for and love her, regardless of the circumstances.

Now, however, as she sat alone at her desk rummaging through old photos painted by Reedus, she couldn’t help but allow a slight frown to mar her usually smiling lips, fingers grazing over the old parchment as though terrified that it too might dissolve without any warning.

For the first time in her life, Lisanna could not say that she had Fairy Tail to fall back on anymore, and it was… Strange, to put it simply. Not unlike the cold sensation that crept up one’s spine with the removal of a warm blanket shielding them from the frigidness of the air around them; a frightening jolt back to the reality of the world around them.

She supposed that it was for that reason that the soul mage now sat staring wordlessly at the container of memories, eyes flittering from one carefully preserved picture to the next in silent wistfulness.

The majority of the images depicted her with Natsu or her siblings, joyous faces devoid of the vaguely haunted tint that seemed to taint her comrade’s faces as of the late. Back when their sole concern tittered on whom was going to be elected for the upcoming S class trials.

It was only when three familiar yet contrasting faces caught her gaze that the girl paused in her movements, the next picture already pinched between her fingers being gently set back aside.

She had nearly forgotten the day Reedus had conjured this spectacle up, as it had been crafted so long ago. If she remembered correctly it had to have been painted during the first Fantasia parade since her return. That had also been the day that her close friendship with the Raijinshuu had been formed, the faces that time forgot smiling brightly back at her just as they had that day.

“C’mon, just try it – it’s great!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This food is positively disgusting and terrible for my complexion – get that away from me or so help me Bixlow!”

Lisanna could only watch in unrestrained awe as the two Thunder Legion members bickered so childishly in front of her, the grin on the Seith mages’ face contrasting the deep scowl on Evergreen’s to an entertaining degree.

Originally she had just moved to speak to the three to extend a customary greeting, although the aforementioned disagreement broke out before she could so much as offer a single word of greeting to anyone other than Freed.

“Don’t be so boring, Ever~”

“Bixlow…!”

As the argument over the proffered corn dog continued, the girl couldn’t help but giggle, the soft smirk residing on Freed’s features enough of an indication that she shouldn’t take their little quarrel all that seriously.

“Do they usually act like this?” She had inquired once she was certain that their conversation had absorbed them to the point where they were not paying attention to their third teammate nor the comrade that they had only just bumped into, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like this…”

A mere smile served as the soul mage’s sole response for several moments as the green haired male seemed to be mauling over his words before speaking, his gaze still trained nonchalantly on his friends,

“Unfortunately.” Though she could not say she could detect anything even akin to regret in his tone, “I admit that they may take some getting used to, though I cannot say that I would have it any other way. This is merely who they are.”

For a minute the white haired female was a bit taken aback by the ease encasing the tone that had not long ago harvested nothing but disinterest and formality, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before lifting in silent wonderment. Even Freed was behaving differently – more open and friendly than before.

“You all really have changed.” She finally commented offhandedly, unable to suppress a following string of giggles as even Evergreen and Bixlow began to laugh at their antics, the care and fondness for one another evident within the fight that had just transpired.

They really had changed a great deal since she had last seen them… She didn’t think the Raijinshuu she had known only years prior would have behaved this way around others or if they would even behave this carefree. They used to be so high strung…

“Would you care to join us, Lisanna? We still have a good portion of the festival to visit.”

As she allowed her mind to reminisce over the story behind the photo, an unconscious smile spread across her lips, head leaning down to rest gently against her upturned palm. At the time none had been aware of Reedus witnessing their interactions, though it had been a pleasant surprise once they returned back to the guild that evening.

In the picture stood a thoroughly enthused Freed and Lisanna, their arms crossed and head tilted to the side in identical fashions as they watched Evergreen and Bixlow speak only feet in front of them, matching smiles having lightened their countenance as the corn dog that initiated the ruckus lay all but forgotten between them on the ground.

She had spent the rest of the day with them after that, enjoying the rides and games with them as though they were all good friends, and, in a way, Lisanna mused that they were, albeit not close.

From that day on the soul mage had begun to bond even further with the legion, getting to know them and not the façade that they had been so insistent on maintaining.

The small series of trinkets adorning the front of her desk served to prove as much, she remembered, gaze finally lifting from the picture to instead regard the three, miniature figures that each member of the Raijinshuu had gifted to her at one point or another.

The first to catch her gaze was the tiny wooden doll that Bixlow had hand crafted. The body was identical to that of his little puppets, although a cat tail and ears adorned the sides with hastily drawn whiskers decorating the figure’s face in crude resemblance of a feline.

Lisanna assumed that this particular trinket had been designed more for a joke than for sentimental reasons, as she sure it was made due to her evident fascination with the dolls that faithfully followed him, although she ultimately adored it regardless.

Beside it was the gift she had received from Ever during one of their increasingly popular ‘girls’ days; a small statue of a cat that Lisanna had jokingly asked if it was a product of her stone eyes. She, in response, had naturally received a snicker and a roll of her said eyes, however the smile on the fairy mage’s lips did not waver. It was Evergreen’s way of expressing her friendship, the white haired girl was certain.

The following and last novelty was a book on shifting magic that Freed had acquired for her on a job. At the time he had claimed to have merely happened upon it in a bookstore, although she knew it was far more than that, as the novel itself was limited in production and had been a story she had been searching for months for. It touched her to know that he would actively seek out a product that she had mentioned in passing only weeks prior.

All three of the decorations were so mundane in appearance, yet they meant more to her than she could voice in words, solely because of what they each represented.

The Raijinshuu, whom still kept more to themselves than the others, welcomed her presence in a way that they did not for many, and those items only solidified the authenticity of their friendship.

Humming the soft tune to a song foreign even to her, Lisanna gently placed the objects of her fascination back down, the frown that had plagued her features only minutes’ prior now replaced by a small smile.

Since Fairy Tail’s disbandment, she rarely saw her friends anymore, as they, along with Laxus, had opted to join Blue Pegasus and thus were now too far to visit daily. However, they still visited her as often as they were able and she them.

Things truly were different now, and, while she still was not entirely in favor of their master’s decision, she felt a newfound sense of understanding as to Makarov’s decree.

“Lisanna! Are you ready to leave yet?”

The sudden ringing of Mira’s tone throughout the small house they had bought together upon moving out of Fairy Hills caused the soul mage to jolt slightly, eyes blinking listlessly at the pile of photos still crowding her table. She had almost forgotten that her sister was waiting for her.

“Yes, sorry! I’ll be right down!”

Quickly moving to gather the paintings into a small group, the youngest Strauss sibling was surprised to find the dull atmosphere that had been weighing her shoulders down for the past week had all but dissipated.

Fairy Tail had surpassed tougher obstacles than this and, just like in the past, she was now certain that this would not be the end of the guild that had brought her so much love and happiness. Not so long as she still held onto the relationships – however unlikely- that she had formed with the others. She would not lose any of them- she couldn’t afford to lose any of them.

Fairy Tail would come back and, when it did, she would be smiling and as cheerful as always – for the sake of both her friends and herself.