#moon anon rp 21

[prpfs]

hello! 30F —i, an avid fandom writer, have been bitten by the original plot bug and i’m looking for some new 21+ rp partners to scratch the itch 

🍡 super craving OC x OC and being able to flesh out our world, plot extensively, get down in the nitty gritty! i would say my writing style is adv. lit but i usually like to mirror my partner. 400-700 is usually my average. i roleplay over email or discord

🍡 would prefer a mxf pairing at the moment with myself playing the role of the female. (apologies i’m a little burned out on my male ocs at the moment and just looking to follow my muse where it leads!!)

🍡 i am a sucker for angst, drama, hurt/comfort, my characters tend to be caretakers and have soft spots for broken things so bring me your sad aching disasters! dark themes are good, nsfw is also fine but doesn’t have to be the main thrust of the rp 

🍡 i love love love talking ooc, plotting together, and gushing over our characters. i’m the kind of person who will send tiktoks, make playlists, pinterest boards and be generally wild about everything so i love people who match my energy!

🍡 some buzz words / ideas that are tickling my noggin lately: bodyguard x charge,  dystopias, grimdark antiheroes/vigilantes (mha inspired?), space pirates, immersive video game gone wrong, ancient prophecies, war/rebellion, hosier’s discography enemies to lovers, sun and moon, arranged marriages, obvious tension

 if you’re down for any of this leave a like and i’ll be sure to send you a message!

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#oc roleplay #oc rp #oc x oc #m/f #dead dove #21+ rp

[sinisterlyliv]

I posted 125 times in 2022

That's 125 more posts than 2021!

6 posts created (5%)

119 posts reblogged (95%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@doctorstrangeaskblog

@lokigodofaces

@asksinisterstrange

@ask-scott-lang-whatever

I tagged 44 of my posts in 2022

#stephen strange - 5 posts

#sinister strange - 4 posts

#agents of shield - 3 posts

#supreme strange - 3 posts

#doctor strange in the multiverse of madness - 2 posts

#doctor strange - 2 posts

#doctor strange: in the multiverse of madness - 2 posts

#defender strange - 2 posts

#leopold fitz - 2 posts

#no need to call me out like that - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#& also stuff about fitz...now that i'm really liking the idea of sinister using the darkhold to find out that fitz knows how to travel betw

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

*sighs* will i ever be satisfied with the picrew i make for my pfp?

0 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

#4

🎶✨️when u get this u have to put 5 songs u actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool)🎶✨️

Oh my heavens, I'm flattered. And I'm sorry it took me forever to respond! I was out of town and seeing family so I tried not to be on Tumblr that much. But I saw I got an ask and didn't have time to read it. I've had a sucky couple days (really fun to drive to another state to see family just to get horribly sick & then be nervous about spreading it when you go to a reception you know lots of elderly people will be at), and seeing this and reading what it actually says really made my day.

Here's a random selection of songs I listen to frequently.

Dvorak's "New World Symphony Movement Three"

Basil Poledouris' "Nuclear Scam" from The Hunt for Red October

Hesham Nazih's "Constellation" from Moon Knight

Panic! At the Disco's "Roaring 20s"

Don McLean's "American Pie"

Again thank you so much for this!

I don't think I even have 10 followers honestly, so if you aren't following me and see this for some reason, you're welcome to do it!

1 note - Posted November 20, 2022

#3

Pass the happy! When you receive this list 5 things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications 😙✨

This ask blog thing we've got going for characters. I only use this for rp. And I used to rp before on another site but it...wasn't that great? People took it way too seriously. Like, they were more worried about a word count than the story and characters and having fun. And personally I find word counts to be the least important in rp (I do understand wanting to have long paragraphs in some rps but I would never get mad at someone for having 230 words instead of 250). So I stopped because that sucked. But if I can send an ask to you or another blog like yours, I get a little taste of rp in a way that doesn't suck. And I've had WAY more fun than I thought I would and it's become way more of a thing for me. It started out as just anon asks since I don't use my main blog, I only use a side blog. I went and made a whole new account for this because I was having fun.

Family. Had a family get together this week so I've been having fun with them. They're family I haven't seen in forever too (they live on the East Coast and I live in a Western state) so it's great. And I've been seeing family a lot more lately since I'm going to live out of the country temporarily and I have a few cousins doing similar things, so we've been seeing each other more often to make up for the time we won't see each other. But I just love my family. My relationships aren't perfect by any means. But I know they won't abandon me because of something big or small.

So, I'll be living in Brazil temporarily, and I know no Portuguese. So I've been using Duolingo to learn some basics. And I took five years of Spanish between middle and high school, but that was pre-covid and I've lost a lot of it since then. But it's almost like I'm relearning Spanish as I'm learning Portuguese. Because in some ways Portuguese feels like Spanish that is written completely differently and has a very different accent. So far with the most basic of the basics, I can understand Portuguese if spoken and I can kind of speak it (still trying to get the handle of Portuguese pronunciation instead of Spanish pronunciation), but reading and writing is so much harder because there's different characters and everything is spelled way different (yo vs. eu). But then there's words that look like they might be exactly the same (como and bebo) but so far Duolingo has only shown me the one conjugation so I don't know what's going on with anything else or what the infinitive is. But it's actually so much fun. I'm relearning one language while learning another. And I have a knack for languages in general and enjoying learning languages, so this is really fun for me.

Writing. Writing fanfiction is just so fun and therapeutic and makes my brain go insane with happiness. All of my fics are linked on my other account, and to be honest I don't know if they'd appeal to any of the people I've interacted with here (you wouldn't guess that I don't have any Doctor Strange fics, would you? Stephen is a big deal in one of my Loki fics though, and I'm planning out some fics for Stephen and variants, but from this blog you'd think Stephen is my favorite when he actually isn't! He is in my top 4 though! Loki, Bucky, Coulson, Stephen, order can vary. Now that I got that tangent out of the way...).

Food. I love food. And I love cooking. I don't normally talk religiously (yes, I am Christian, a minority in Christianity too, I was harassed on a side blog on my other account by someone saying that Christians can't be queer and they called me terrible things so I don't feel comfortable talking about it that often any more), but the fact that we have both the ability to taste and so many ingredients that can be cooked and combined in delicious ways, at least to me, is very strong evidence that God loves us. Currently in a big nutella thing. Also, since I'm going to Brazil, people having been giving me Guaraná Soda, this Brazilian pop that tastes amazing, and I may have been looking up where I can buy it in the States by my house. Sushi is also extremely delicious. And I could go on and on but I'll stop now to save you all time.

1 note - Posted August 20, 2022

#2

*screams in agents of shield fan*

4 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

love how the fandom had sinister strange, defender strange, and strange supreme for maybe ten minutes (that's combining all of their screentime) and yet we're all obsessed with them

116 notes - Posted July 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #eh i'm not posting here ever but whatever i'll post this it's fun

[yuriko-mukami]

Rukiko: Situations

RP situations are with @ask-ruki-mukami​ .

01: Yuriko’s Birthday

02: Valentine’s Kisses from Yuriko

03: Yuriko Gives Valentine’s Gift to Ruki

04: A Kiss from Ruki | NSFW

05: Kissing Ruki’s Neck | NSFW

06: “I Can’t Get Enough of You” | NSFW

07: Yuriko Is Having Nightmares

08: The White Day

09: Ruki Sees a Lewd Photo of Sharon and Yuriko

10: Spicy Morning

11: Ruki’s Birthday

12: Ruki Nuzzles Yuriko’s Neck | NSFW

13: Lingerie Shopping | Slight NSFW

14: Ruki Invites Yuriko to a Hot Spring

15: Ruki's Dream | TW

16: Ruki’s Lewd Dream | NSFW

17: A Passionate Kiss | NSFW

18: Failing in a History Test

19: Art Order Escalated (with @eri-talks​)

20: Is She an Angel or a Devil?

21: Making Up

22: “You Have to Beg for It, Yuriko” | NSFW

23: Cleaning Him with Her Tongue | NSFW

24: “I’m Here for You, Ruki”

25: “I Love You”

26: Claiming Her Sweetly

27: “Do Not Dare to Call Her ‘That Fox’”

28: Full Moon Tonight

29: The Morning After the Full Moon | NSFW

30: “You are mine”

31: International Kissing Day

32: From the Bottom of My Heart

33: Bite Me More

34: A Reward from Helping

35: An Anon Text Message with a Photo | NSFW

36: Waking up as a Fox

37: Kissing Her Neck

38: The Fox Plushie

39: A Recipe Book from Ruki

40: Fox in the Garden | with @ask-yumamukami

#ask-ruki-mukami #ruki mukami #yuriko tsukino #rukiko

[sombreboy]

Hellbound⇢demon!jjk [E]

⇢Explicit (18+) ⇢Pairing: Demon JJK x female y/n ⇢Genre: yandere, smut, supernatural ⇢Word count: 14.5k ⇢Warnings: profanity, heavy dubcon, virgin y/n, descriptions of painful sex, crying, oral, dirty talk, biting, licking, fingering, abundance of cum, jealousy, ok jk gets kinda soft for her cuz he luvs her, kinda ends on a cockblock enjoy

A/N: An rp with apple anon, turned into a 14k beast despite not being finished. It’s the same lovely anon that wrote Unsullied with me, and I love how unrestricted our stories are. This is unfinished because I had a rough time, but I wanted to still post this and keep it documented. Enjoy, don’t read this if you’re sensitive to dubcon and rough themes. xo

[22 years ago.]

"I'll do it." Your mother said to the smirking demon in front of her.

"I swear to give you my first-born daughter on her 21st birthday."

And thus, sealed your fate before you were even born.

Your birthdays were never special. It had troubled you as a kid, the fact that your mother never celebrated you, or even congratulated you, like your friends parents would on their birthdays. But as you became older, the less you cared. You treated the day as any other, to try and forget about your mother's constant absence. She'd always chose her work, friends, boyfriend or something else over you, and that was that - you'd learned to live with it. The only meaning your 18th birthday had held was that you finally could move out and live on your own, in your own apartment.

You looked at your phone, the numbers 23.47 shining towards you, as you walked out of the bus, heading home. You hadn't planned to work so late, but you really needed the money.

Looking forward to the slice of pizza waiting in your fridge, you opened your front door, and headed for the kitchen. Cold pizza slice in hand, you looked at the clock again, watching the seconds pass, until finally. 00.00. You sighed. Happy 21st birthday to me.

You switched on the lights to your living room, and almost choked on the pizza as you laid eyes on the stranger standing in front of you.

He was anything but ordinary, standing tall in the middle of your room. He was dressed in all black, contrasting the silver earrings that dangled between long strands of raven hair. It was almost comical, how such a visually pleasing being suddenly appeared in a small, simple apartment. It was of no matter, however, as he had decided that you no longer will have to worry about whether or not you will be able to afford rent from now on. Because, now.. After 21 long years, you became his.

“Hello, Y/N.” He dug his ring-adorned hands into the pockets of his jacket, flashing a pearly, pleased grin your way, “Finally, we get to meet.”

Your first thought was to scream for help, a stupid thought really since no one would care. It wasn't like screams were abnormal in the area you lived.

Your second thought was that the man in front of you was a burglar, but there was two very obvious things talking against this conclusion;

First, the man had greeted you, with your name. Why would a burglar care to learn your name? And why would he stay around to greet you?

Second, well.. he didn't look like a burglar. The more you took in his features, the way he stood, the way he spoke, how he smiled at you, the clothes and accessories he wore.. this man reeked of expensiveness, so why should he need to steal?

Against all odds you managed to swallow the slice of pizza in your mouth, and with eyes bigger than the moon, and with as much courage you could uphold, you asked,

"Who are you?"

He didn’t answer right away and allowed the tension to linger in the air for just a bit longer. As he did so, silent footsteps echoed as he took a step forward, approaching you slowly. He’d been patient, waited years for this very moment where he could come to you.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook.” He said lowly, fiery gaze zeroed in on your form. Another step closer, he wished to eliminate the distance between the two of you. With a swift motion, his hand withdraws from his pocket to reach out, offering it to you. His long, slender fingers are calloused, prettily dressed in jewelry, “Your new master.”

A feeling you cannot pinpoint spreads throughout your body. It was as if a natural primitive instinct kicked in. As he came closer, with eyes so intense it felt as if they burned your skin, the instinct told you to recoil, to hide, to flee. Despite this, you stood completely still, with eyes even bigger, looking at the hand nearing you as your brain processed his words.

Jeon Jungkook, your.. master?

A crease appeared on your forehead, and out of habit you tilted your head slightly. Is this a joke?

You look up from his hand, meeting the man's red eyes, that you could have sworn were onyx just a second ago. When you open your mouth to speak you realize that you've unintentionally held your breath, so with a meek voice you say out loud, "I don't understand. What do you mean?"

“Your mother.” He said it was obvious, “she gave you to me.”

Jungkook could tell from your confused look that you still didn’t understand. His amused grin grew wider, completely in awe at the fact that your own mother didn’t say a single thing to you about her deal with a demon throughout your entire life.

“Do you know the expression ‘To make a deal with the devil?’, Y/N?” He asks, this time taking another step, now so close he could breathe in your scent. He keeps his hand in the air, so close to your cheek that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, but he doesn’t touch you. “Your selfish mother got everything she could ever wish for, and in return, she promised me her first born.” He sighs adoringly, “and that’s you. Technically, you were never hers to begin with. ”

The fight-or-flight response is on high alert, alarm echoing inside your brain. But it's as if your body doesn't understand, for some reason you still can't move away. You can't even turn your head away from his hand. The man, Jungkook, is so close that if you'd just tip forward a bit, your nose would touch his chest. And as you unwillingly take in his perfume you realize the feeling you couldn't pinpoint earlier.

There is something about Jungkook's demeanor that feels.. predatory.

You don't know whether to cry or laugh at the words that fall out of his mouth. The logical part of your brain tells you to call a mental hospital, seen as they've clearly lost a patient. But there's also a tiny, tiny, part of you telling you to read all the signals, the way he makes you feel, and believe, how crazy it may seem, that he's telling the truth.

You ignore that part.

"Okay, mister, I don't know you. I don't know how you got here, where you're from, or how you know my name, but you have to go, yeah? I promise I'll not call the police if you just go. I've had a long night and I'd really just like to sleep."

Jungkook’s smile faded as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a look in his eye that could burn you from the inside out if he so chose to. His irises swirl in a dark red, like the fires of the underworld itself resided in him. People say one’s eyes are the mirror to your soul, and if so, the demon’s shall reflect that he is merely a piece of your own personalized hell.

“You have no say in this.” He says without a stutter, becoming less courteous of you as he takes the liberty to cup your jaw in a claw-like grasp, cold rings pressing into your skin. He tilts your face upwards to look at him, and there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes. Like a sparkle of mischief. “You need to understand this as soon as possible, angel..” He pauses to lean forward, closing the short distance between your lips in a kiss. It’s possessive, quick. Within the span of a few seconds, he withdraws to meet your eyes again.

It happens too fast for you to fully grasp it. His eyes meeting yours, feeling as if they could rip your soul from you in a heartbeat, his hands on you, holding you so hard it's difficult to breathe, and then.. His lips feel warm against yours. In the matter of seconds that your lips touch, it feels as if he molds you to fit perfectly to his own.

Shock. And then, realization. This man took your first kiss. He stole it.

The very few boyfriends you've had in your life flashing before your eyes. The boyfriends that had all mysteriously disappeared before you'd had the chance to give them even a peck on the cheek..

Some of the fear you've felt turns into anger, enough to make your body move. Finally free from the paralyzation and with adrenaline pumping in your veins you scream.

"No!" and put your hands on his chest to try and push him away from you, "Why?! You can't do that! Stay away from me!". Realizing you wouldn't be able to move him even an inch, you instead raise your hand to slap him across the face.

However, before you’re even able to attempt to hit him, your wrist is squeezed tight in his large grasp. His patience is running low, not used to the rejecting behavior. On the other hand, he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it interesting– maybe even exciting that you’re not immediately compliant with him. Part of him found thrill in the mere thought of the possibilities, and slowly corrupted you to become his perfect pet.

“Cute. I suppose it doesn’t matter what I say.” Jungkook sighs, his expression softening slightly. It contrasts the iron-hold he’s got on your wrist, and the way he uses his larger frame to step forward, forcing you to walk backwards towards the living room couch. “I came here to claim what’s mine, not to chit chat, after all.”

You gasp from the pain of his hand crushing your wrist, and the small wave of strength that had temporarily hit you disappears in a heartbeat. Left is only fear for the man, the...demon?, in front of you.

He's too strong for you and you have no one to call to for help. This can't be happening. It's a dream, this must be a dream.

But you don't wake up.

Instead you feel the armrest of your sofa against the back of your legs.

He came here to.. claim?

Full-blown panic and tears are now visible in your eyes, "Please. Please don't. I'll give you anything you want, just leave me alone, please." With your free hand you again try your hardest to push the smirking red-eyed demon away.

The demon says nothing in response to your pleading attempts for mercy– to tempt him with the promise of anything he wants to just stop. But there’s nothing that you could ever offer him that he doesn’t have. There’s nothing else that he truly desires more than what he’s got in front of him at this very moment already.

Tears glaze over your wide, panicked eyes– and he couldn’t resist the urge to stare right into them with awe. It’s an expression he’s seen countless times, but when it is you… it stirs the demon’s excitement like nothing else, an urge and curiosity for just how long it will take for you to give up your sobbing pleas.

“Are you scared of me, Y/N?” Jungkook asks with a wolfish smirk on his lips, knowing the answer too well. His grasp around your wrist remains strong, already seeing possessive marks blooming on your skin in the form of his fingers, with small indents from his rings. His free hand itches to touch you more, so he wastes no more time in indulging– starting to smooth his warm palm up your thigh, “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

You're not scared. You're fucking terrified.

"Wh-what?" you stutter. Not sure if you've heard him correctly. In this situation.. He wonders if you think he's attractive? Ignoring the question, your legs begin to tremble as his palm burns your thigh.

His eyes on you are too intense, the red in them like fire. Your tears are still falling, like big rain drops, and you lower your gaze.

"Please, Jungkook." you beg again, unaware of the fact that the sound of his name from your lips just stir up the demon even more.

“Say it again,” Jungkook’s tongue snakes past his lips to dampen them with saliva, sincerely enamored by your state. Frightened, yet he can tell you resist less– hoping your words would be enough to reason with a demon. Pure, and foolish of you.

He leans in close, face hovering above yours. With a stare so intense he’s sure you could feel it, he searches for your averting gaze. He looks down for a split second, seeing that you’re looking at where his hand slowly touches up your thigh. With a raised brow, he keeps roaming his palm up your body, underneath the hem of your shirt to directly feel the soft skin of your stomach. His nails graze against your ribs, searching for a reaction. “Keep saying my name like that… I might reconsider.” He lies. How could you possibly think a creature from hell would ever have something to even resemble a conscience.

The panic makes it difficult for you to breathe, only small sips of air pass your lips at a time, and it only gets worse as his hand wanders across your body, the trail so hot that you wonder if it'll leave a burn mark.

And it really is foolish of you to believe him, but what else can you do? And you're just a naïve human after all, so despite everything, a flicker of hope appears inside you. Maybe.. maybe he'll stop.

So trying to control the shakiness in your voice as best as you can, with pure and innocent eyes, you meet his burning eyes once again, "Jungkook. Whatever you want, just let me go. Please. Please, Jungkook." With your free hand, although everything in you screams not to, you carefully reach to lightly touch his cheek. Stupidly hoping that the gentle act will make the demon change his mind.

For the first time, you touched him. Albeit unwillingly, for the purpose of mercy, it didn’t matter to him– it stirred him just the same to feel your trembling hand against his cheek.

“Hmm…” Jungkook leans into your touch, closing his eyes as he pretends to reconsider. However, it doesn’t take long before he slowly opens his eyes again, the amber glow in his irises burning with mischief. It’s barely noticeable, but a smile twitches on his lips when he looks you dead in the eye and whispers, “No.”

Without another word said, he repositions his hands on your waist, spinning you around so that his chest presses against your back, holding you close. His warm breath fans your cheek when he leans forward, instead moving down to play with the hem of your pants.

The small glimpse of hope gets crushed down in an instant.

His breath against your cheek and the closeness of his body gives you goosebumps. The trembling of your body is uncontrollable. If you doubted his intentions before, they were clear as day to you now. You had never been near a man like this before. Never touched the way he touched you. Actually, never touched at all.

How did you even end up here?

With a weak voice and glossy eyes, you whisper, "Did you tell the truth?.. Are you a demon?" a shaky inhale, "Did.. did my mother sell me to you?"

“Mmhm.. It was an easy decision for her, too.” He confirms, and you could definitely hear the amused tone in his voice. He swiftly peels your pants down while speaking, thrilled by your trembling thighs beneath his touch.

“She didn’t blink twice before saving herself over you. And she got everything she could ever wish for. But, then again, so did I..” Jungkook looks down, using a stern palm to press against your back, forcing you to bend forward and jut your ass out for his viewing pleasures, “My own little pet. It’s hard to get deals like these, not many will sacrifice their own offspring for vanity.” He mutters, eyebrows drawn together as if he couldn’t believe it himself. Humans are greedy, yes, but never has he met a person that was as selfish as your own mother. However, he’s sure he would take better care of you than she’s ever done— he’s confident that you’ll learn where you really belonged all this time, and that it’ll make you realize that nothing will be as fulfilling as being his.

Surprisingly, it wasn't that hard for you to believe. You'd never felt like her daughter, other than in theory. You knew her fame was the only thing that meant anything to her. But still.. that she'd sold you off like that.. to a demon. It made your heart sink like a stone.

Though those thoughts were quickly replaced by others.

The embarrassment from the position he'd put you in, and the fact that you were almost half naked in front of a man, made your cheeks glow red. You just wanted to sink through the ground and disappear.

How could you get away from a demon? A demon that had bought you, no less.

You can't, is the answer.

As if the minutes you'd spent in the demon's company had taught you nothing (really, how could you ever be so naïve?), with head held low over the armrest and with a trembling voice, you whispered, "If I..." it was as if you had to force the next words out of your mouth, "...if I do this for you... will you then leave me alone?"

While you spoke, Jungkook had already been playing with the fabrics of your panties, tugging them down to make a point when you’ve finished your question.

You still didn’t get it. You were still in denial. However, you slowly accept small facts, such as wrapping your head around the fact that you were created to become a demon’s possession, and nothing else. So he knew, with time, you’d accept him as well.

“What do you think?” The demonic undertones of his vocal cords kick in, becoming a mixture of his own soothing, alluring voice, laced with the deep baritone that boomed in his chest. She’s trying to negotiate with a demon, he muses with a smile. You’re still so innocent and holding on to hope, even as you’re bent over the couch’s arm rest. He uses one hand to squeeze the flesh of your ass between his lithe fingers to earn a reaction.

Humiliated didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. That combined with your still growing fear, made you feel sick and dizzy.

His deep voice made your heart beat even more erratically, and you wondered for a split second if he could hear it.

You flinched away from his hot touch, and dropped down on your knees. Your trembling form makes it impossible to stand. As quickly as you could on shaky legs, you turned around and pushed your shirt over your knees to try and cover yourself up.

Looking up at the demon's powerful frame hovering above you, with his ruby eyes watching you even more glowing than before, made you feel smaller than ever.

With panic truly sipping into your voice now, you nearly screamed, "I just don't understand. What more could you possibly want?!" eyes still begging, "If I promise to do as you say this once, won't that be enough?"

Tilting his head down to look at you, his raven curls fall forward to frame his face. His eyes glow with amusement, slightly squinted as he gives you a toothy grin.

“You will understand with time.. Which we’ve got plenty of.” Jungkook steps forward, caging your sitting form with his spread legs, your back cornered by the couch. He doesn’t rip his gaze from you for even a split second, maintaining eye contact. Slowly, his hand reaches down, softly dragging the pad of his fingers down your cheek, “It is not just your body that I claim,” he clarifies, running his fingers through your hair, “But your soul. It belongs to me,” he tightly closes his fist around a strand of your hair, but he doesn’t pull, “You’re bound to me for eternity, Y/N.”

"An eternity?" You mumble.

You were bound to this demon.. for an eternity? The vastness of the word is incomprehensible for a 21-year old that had barely started living.

You breathed more slowly as you observed him observing you. The look in his eyes shifted between how a lion looks at lamb, how a man looks at a prized possession, but mostly his eyes were dark with lust. His lust.. for you? You had never been wanted before. By anyone.

Your face burned bright red with embarrassment as you realized how close you were to his crotch. And although you tried to look anywhere but there, the tightness of his pants, how it hugged certain parts, was difficult to miss.

His grip on your hair tightened.

“Precisely.” The demon blinks slowly, his gaze following yours to where his hardened length strains the fabrics of his pants. With a smirk on his face, he breathes out a chuckle through his nostrils.

“But now is not a time for discussion, little angel,” Jungkook tugs at your hair, using his free hand to tap at the metal buckle of his belt, “If you’re going to look, do it properly,” He speaks with a commanding tone, “Undo my belt.”

You were weak and helpless under his muscular body. Your try to negotiate and beg hadn't worked, and there was no way for you to escape him.

Despite this, there was something in you that refused to just surrender. Although fear still made your body tremble, you looked the demon in the eyes, and with a raised brow asked, "And what if I won't?". Clearly never heard the expression: don't poke the bear.

“Hm…” Jungkook seems displeased with your answer, and it’s clearly displayed in the way his jaw clenched tightly, brows tightly knit together. His stare is intense, and if he could devour you with a single look, you’d be dead meat already.

“I’d like to think I’ve been quite patient with you,” He no longer smiles, instead his words come out as stern as his jaw is tense. Bringing your face close, he keeps you in a tight hold by your hair, while using his other hand to undo the belt on his own. Rustling is heard, the teeth of his zipper almost deafening in the quiet apartment when he slowly pulls it down. He slips the belt through every loop, taking it off completely to throw it on the couch, the metal part hitting the floor as it hangs loosely off the edge, “I’ll admit, I admire your resilience.”

The demon looks at you when he wiggles his hips slowly, pulling down his pants to his upper thighs, just enough to display more of himself. His length strains against his underwear, leaving much less to the imagination through the thin fabrics. He palms it, giving you a nice display of the outline as he lets a sigh push past his lips when he gives it a squeeze, “But in the end, the only choice you’ve got is whether you want this to be a punishment or a reward.”

A small scream escapes your lips as the demon tugs on your hair harshly. You instinctively raise your hands to hold the chunk of hair, to ease the pain on your scalp. As a consequence, your shirt, earlier held down by your hands, slides over your knees, making your thighs visible to the demon again.

Your defiance crumbles a bit at the sternness of his words. Your, usually, submissive nature crying out for you to just obey, to not make it worse for yourself. But still you don't just want to give up. You have hopes and dreams, things you want to do and see. Should you just give that up because a demon shows up and demands that you're bound to be with him for eternity?

Albeit foolishly, you think that if you just do as he wants for now, there might be a chance for you to escape him later.

If looks could kill huh? Well two can play that game. You meet his stare (also to try and ignore observing the actions of the hand that's not holding your hair and what that little sigh of his unwillingly does to your body) equally intense, and through gritted teeth hiss, "Fine... master."

“Better.” The demon praises. Although you’re still giving him an attitude, he’s more so pleased with the fact that you’re complying– whether it’s fake or not.

“Since you like using that bratty mouth of yours so much, how about we make it useful.” He says, tongue swiping across his upper lip at the mere anticipation. He slips his hand beneath the hem of his underwear, tugging the fabrics down to expose himself to you. He wraps his lithe fingers around his rigid length, feeling it twitch in his hold.

“Look how hard you made me, and you haven’t even touched it yet..” He sighs, searching for your averting eyes. When he notices that you don’t immediately look, he brings your face closer, giving you no other option than to look or to shut your eyes, “I said look at me.”

And you do. You do watch him, unwillingly or willingly, you're not even sure anymore. He's dragged you so close that you're bended forward in between his legs, literally face-to-face with his crotch. With cheeks still tinted, you observe his long and slim fingers, how the veins in his arm bulge as he moves his hand. And you feel his pleased smirk on you from above, as your eyes finally focus on his length. You have nothing to compare to, but you're sure that he has to be big. So painfully hard. And you.. made him like that?

You don't understand the effect the demon has on you. You shouldn't feel like this, don't want to.

Even though you still fear the demon, you know that it's not only that that's making your heart race now, making you feel so incredibly warm. Without intending to do so you let out a soft whimper. The sound having an immediate reaction on the demon.

The hand intertwined with your hair trembles the second you make such a sound. That’s when he knew that his patience was all worth it. Years and years of waiting for this moment, and it’s all about to pay off.

“Such pretty sounds.” The demon praises you again. He finally lets go of your hair, trailing the pads of his fingers down your face until he reaches your lips. He grabs your jaw, digging his nails into your cheeks to force your mouth open, “Bet you’d sound even prettier with me inside.”

Jungkook smooths the dripping head of his cock against your lips, not putting it any deeper yet, “Stick your tongue out for me.”

You'd never admit it, but hearing just that small amount of praise is enough to make you crumble. It spurs you on. You want to be praised. You want him to praise you.

As if your body isn't yours anymore, like your mind has finally surrendered to him and left him in complete control, you instantly do as he commands. The smell of him is musky, the weight of him heavy on your tongue. The precum continues to smear your upper lip.

Although you'd forgotten it for a moment, this is all completely new to you, and so you have no idea of what it is you should do.

You raise your head to meet Jungkook's eyes again. The intensity almost makes you want to take cover. If they burned before, they are deep molten lava now.

Jungkook’s pupils expand when he sees your growing submission, the black almost covering the entirety of his eyes, the thin irises of red burning with intrigue.

“See? Isn’t it much more pleasant when you comply..” He playfully coats your upper lip with his precum, then proceeds to rub it against your tongue. He exhales a soft sigh. He’d longed for this.

“Relax now.” He lets your jaw go, stroking the back of his hand down your cheek softly. It’s affectionate, a contrast to what he’s about to do. Without much of a warning, he snakes his large palm behind your head, pushing you forward to take his cock into your mouth. He doesn’t stop when your throat constricts, instead, he just chuckles breathily, and pushes you deeper until he can feel the back of your throat press against his tip.

You're not prepared. Suddenly all you see, hear and feel is him. He is inside you. You can feel every bulge, every vein. And it hurts.

To relax does not feel possible. Without much thought you grab his thighs to try and push your head away, to escape the pain, but the demon's hand is firm, keeping you in place.

You gag and try to swallow, but he's so big, taking up every bit of space in your mouth, that even that feels impossible.

Tears and spit are streaming down your face, muffled cries leave your lips. But he doesn't bulge.

You can't breathe. Your nails sink deeper into his thighs. Your eyes begging him to stop.

“Tsk,” The demon shakes his head, and holds your head firmly in place for a solid few more seconds– but what felt like much longer for you, until he finally withdrew to let you breathe. Thick strings of saliva still connected your lips to his cock. The cool air on his wet skin had him immediately missing the warmth of your throat, “Crying already? Are you overwhelmed?”

Jungkook waits for an answer this time, wanting to hear the strain in your voice as you speak. But in the meantime, he takes a step back to get a good look at you. His eyes rake down your body like he can see through your flesh and straight to your soul. A smirk appears on his face, crooking a brow.

“Well? You promised to do this for me. Shall we move on?” He motions with his hand for you to stand up.

You drink down air as soon as his cock leaves your mouth. The taste of him is still very much evident. It feels as if you have bruises down your throat.

You can sense his pleased eyes on you and with a hoarse voice you hiss "Overwhelmed? It hurts! You're enjoying this? You enjoy hurting me?", the effort of talking makes you cough.

Despite your harsh words, his satisfaction in you clearly has a big impact on your body, arousal growing, dripping down your legs. But why do you feel like this? Could the immediate control he has over your mind and body be.. because you're bound to him? That you quite literally, were born to be his?

You shake your head at his command, but as if on your own accord, you feel your legs stand anyway.

“Good girl.” The demon watches you get up on unsteady legs, unsubtle in the way his gaze immediately searches for the glistening trail dripping down your exposed thigh, “You’re right, I do enjoy this… And it looks like you do as well.”

Jungkook slowly circles around you as he seems to observe you yet again, the sound of the heel of his shoe loud with every step that oozes with power. He owns this room, his mere presence dominating the surface he walks on– the air the two of you shared.

“Look at you,” He finds your eyes again, stepping closer until his breath is all you could taste. His hand snakes down your hip, to the front of your stomach, brushing his thumb over your gut, “I can taste your arousal on my tongue, and I’ve only used your mouth so far…” His smooth tongue pokes out, dragging it slowly up your cheek in a possessive manner until he reaches your ear, whispering into the shell of it, “Do you want me to taste it? I’ll allow you to choose this once.”

You make a sharp intake and almost fall on your knees again as his wet muscle meets your cheek, goosebumps covering your arms. The primal way of marking you stirs you up even more.

You can see in his eyes how much he wants you, craves you. It's not something you're used to, rather the opposite, but oh, you do enjoy to feel wanted.

His hand on your stomach is teasing you.  You need more, further down. You rub your plump thighs against each other as you feel your core pulsating. Desperately needing some sort of release. But you can't do it on your own. You need him.

With a quickening breath, tasting him in every intake, you mewl, "Please.", not even entirely sure of what you're begging for, but unable to form any other words.

Seeing you in such a subservient state, so quickly, made the handsome demon smile approvingly. He expected more resistance, but he was happy that you seemed to accept him gradually. May it be the heat of the moment, but he’s convinced that after he’s claimed you fully, you won’t be able to fathom being separated from each other.

“You know.. I couldn’t possibly deny you when begging so sweetly.” Jungkook says as he guides your body to take a seat on the couch, then drops to his knees on the floor with a thud, “Show me..” he coaxes you to spread your legs, practically already doing it for you by grabbing your knees and parting them, “Look at you, how badly you must desire relief already..”

Since your underwear is long gone the demon has a free view of your glistening pussy.

The reddish hue on your cheeks intensifies when you feel his eyes focus on your intimate parts. You want to hide, embarrassed of the way your wetness stains the sofa, of how he is the one that makes you feel this way. But at the same time you get impatient.

The image of the demon on his knees in front of you just makes you even more desperate. The emotions overtaking you are completely new to you. All you know is that you need him to do something.

"Yes. Please." You answer him with a groan, squirming under his strong hold. "It's so sticky. So hot. I can't.. I need... please, master."

The corner of Jungkook’s lip twitches into a faint grin. Your choice of words stirred his gut pleasantly, fanning the fire of his own arousal.

“You’re becoming unbelievably sweet.” He inches closer until his lips barely graze your clit. He inhales deeply, humming happily while his eyes look up through raven lashes, doe and almost innocent– playful, as if he wasn’t between your legs, “Think you taste just as sweet as your words.”

Without wasting more time, his long, flattened tongue snakes out past his parted lips. He drags it upwards, from your hole to your clit. Instead of waiting for your reactions– or to ask if you liked it, he continued to repeat the action, allowing himself to indulge without holding back.

You adapt to the feeling of Jungkook's tongue against your cunt quickly, losing yourself to the pleasure provided by the skillful demon.

Your hands find his raven locks, tugging them harshly, to push him away or get him closer you don't even know.

Your long and sharp nails dig into his scalp, but it looks like the demon barely notices it. Rather, it seems to spur him on further. His tongue assaulting your clit harsher, the sounds of him sucking and slurping ringing in your ears. The coil in your stomach intensifies, and you squish him in between your thighs, a loud scream leaving your lips at the desperation for relief, no thoughts in your head but that, to cum. And you are so, so close.

"Please please please." You repeatedly whimper.

And your prayers get answered (or maybe not since it is a demon you have in between your legs). You watch him, the powerful, beautiful, demon on his knees before you, worshipping your cunt, and ecstasy fills you. Making you cum hard on the demon's sinful tongue.

“Mmf…” The demon hums, lapping up your sticky arousal, not giving you the chance to come down from your orgasm until he stops. He enjoyed the way your body began to twitch and squirm from oversensitivity, holding on to your thighs to not let you move away from him until he gave his say so.

“If I was mortal I would’ve been suffocated with the way you squeezed me between your legs,” Jungkook smirks as he places one last kiss on your swollen clit, just to earn another whine. He looks up at you through dark lashes, eyes filled with nothing but a black void that wants to swallow you whole, “My, where are your manners?”

The way the demon says it is mocking, with a smile on his lips– lips that are glossed over with a layer of your orgasm, drooling down his chin. His dexterous tongue snakes out to swipe it away and savor the taste, then wipes off his excess saliva with the back of his hand.

“We shall continue, angel.” His toothy grin grows as he reaches for your waist, dragging your body down into his embrace. He swiftly turns to rest his back against the front of the couch, your legs spread apart to straddle his thighs. He looks up at you again, lips pressing together in a coy pout, “Do you know what I want you to do now?” His question works simultaneously with the way his gaze lowers to where his cock lays, lazily tucked into his underwear and opened pants. There’s a dark, sticky stain where the outline of his tip is, impatient and dripping with his own need. He looks back up at you, and it’s as if his normally razor sharp gaze seemed doe in comparison, pleading with you to take it out. However, the way his fingers dug into your waist in a claw-like manner reminds you that there are no other options than the ones he provides.

Your face is flushed, heart beating erratically, still very much affected by the orgasm provided by the demon. Where are your manners? You, still only a naïve human, play the teasing demon right into his hands, mewling “I’m sorry.”, as the realization that you’d just used a demon to get off hits you.

But yes, you know precisely what he wants from you, and you also know that you have no choice but to comply. Meeting his gaze with doe eyes of your own, you whisper shyly “I… I have never, uhm, done this, before…” Unaware that the demon already knows, having personally taken care of the occasional suitors that have looked your way…

Still, you move your hand to timidly touch the wet patch on his underwear, then lifting your fingers to your lips, tasting his need on your tongue. The action immediately earns you a groan from the demon, making you feel more confident. You trace the outline of his cock gently from the base to the tip before you carefully drag down his underwear and release him. The demon’s painfully hard cock standing tall against his stomach.

"…Will you be gentle?" you ask quietly. Although you most certainly already know the answer to that.

“Gentle…” The demon snickers at your question, shaking his head. He grasps your chin, drawing you in to kiss you deep and quick. His long tongue swirls around yours, then withdraws as a messy string of saliva follows his lips.

“I have been awfully gentle with you already, you know?” He continues to speak while using the saliva he’d stolen from your mouth with his tongue, spitting it into his hand, then brings the slickness of his palm down to coat the dripping head of his length, mixing it with his precum.

“You must know how meaningful that is,” Jungkook grasps his length tight in his fist, stroking it a few times while looking at you— through you, motioning with his free hand for you to scoot closer, “Sit on me, then. Show me your pace, use my cock.”

The demon's actions were lewd, but to your own surprise you found yourself liking it. How he moved with such certainty, such power. How he held, and kissed you -like he owned you.

Buttons of the shirt Jungkook was wearing had gradually opened up more and more. His muscular and broad chest was visible to you. You saw black ink cover his body. The art, and himself, is beautiful. His whole self was really the embodiment of sin, and you found yourself lusting for him more and more. Your core is stirring once again.

"Will you give up your power to me then?" You say, timidly innocent -albeit teasingly, head slightly tilted. Putting your hands on his thighs to help move you forward a bit, but not enough. Maybe forgetting the fear you felt for the demon earlier a tad bit too fast. So affected by the lustful haze the demon has put you in.

Or maybe, you realize slowly, you've just never wanted it gentle. You so desperately want to be desired, craved, loved. Maybe as a demon's pet you will be.

The demon grins, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. The closer the two of you become, the stronger the bond grows. He can tell that your desires grow stronger than your logic– giving in to allow him to claim you.

“You’re asking too many questions,” He says as he grabs your hip, displaying only an ounce of his strength by the way he easily lifts you closer in his lap. He doesn’t let his stare waver from your face while he guides the bulbous head of his cock where it belongs, “You had your chance to do it your way, but you chose to be a brat. Perhaps.. you like it better this way?”

Jungkook isn’t blind. He can feel the heat inside of you just from letting his tip tastefully graze your slick entrance.

“Once we’re truly one, you’ll never be the same.” His voice is raspy with desire. He has little patience left, and so his hand on your hip begins to drag you down, slowly having you take his rigid length inch by inch. He gasps quietly, feeling just how tight and warm it is makes him smile through his heavy breaths. You’re pure-- now to be claimed and corrupted by a filthy demon’s cock, parting your flesh to make space for him and him only.

A weak whimper escapes your lips. You move your hand to his, trying to halt his actions, but to no avail. Jungkook continues, filling you up, nudging your cervix. Never have you felt full like this. Even though you're so aroused that you're dripping on the demon's thighs, you're also untouched. Your walls are stretching for the very first time, and it hurts. Tears threatening to fall once again.

You take short intakes of air, your chest moving up and down rapidly, as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. Of how he molds your insides to fit only him.

His dark orbs meet yours and you can see your own lust-overtaken eyes reflect in them. And you realize that the pain can bring pleasure too.

"M-more." You plead with a strained groan.

The demon's words are true. You are changing. He is changing you.

“More.” Jungkook repeats with a grin, as if teasing you for your contradictions. Your expression distorted into pain, your body trembled in discomfort– and yet, you pleaded for more of him. A demon.

“Do you feel it?” He asks, hot breath gently fanning your face as he speaks. He lifts your hips again, dragging his teeth against his bottom lip from the friction of your snug insides being taken from him, only to plunge you back down on his cock. He doesn’t wait for much of a response from you before picking up a rhythm, repeating the action of bouncing your, to him, weightless body, “How hard I am because of you?”

Fucking a demon must be the highest of sin, but right at this moment, you don't even care. You cannot think straight. Only feel his burning body against yours. And the strangest thing of all is how much you like it. How you feel such belonging in his arms, like it's where you should be.

The pain is still there, but you embrace it, welcome it. You put your hands around his neck and cross your legs behind him. Your thighs are squishing his sides, grabbing on tightly, as he continues to hold up your body and thrust into you faster. Surely leaving marks from how hard his grip on you is.

You groan again at his words. "Yes. Feel it. Hurts, ugh, so good." Incoherent words and whimpers continue to leave your lips.

The demon currently has you wrapped around his finger, but maybe you have a hold of him as well. Like he says, he's clearly also very much affected by you. And you can't help but wonder if it's something more than just a deal made with your mother.

It's a struggle, but between heavy breaths you manage to voice your thoughts, "Why, ahh.. why me?"

“Why? It’s always been you, Y/N..” Jungkook answers mindlessly, too caught up in the heat that embraces his cock every time he lets your body descend on top of him. His eyes flutter shut, a deep sigh slipping past his parted lips. It’s as if he’s in heaven— or at least, as close as he could get to what he thinks resembles it.

“We’re made for each other– you were made to be mine.” He opens his eyes to look up at you, with his wide, amber gaze. They seem to soften at the sight, finally, as he realizes that you’ve accepted him fully… almost.

It's always been you? You don’t quite grasp the deeper meaning behind the words, as the lust clouds your thoughts. You only feel a pleasant stir in your stomach at his possessive claims. “Mmh, yes, Jungkook, made just for you.” You moan, agreeing without a second thought. Your confirmation has immediate effect. Jungkook shifts his angle, making him press your spot harder. Eyes looking down, you watch fascinatingly at how the demon's cock disappears inside of you, at how you both become one. You're soaking his length, dripping down on both his and your legs. The sounds emanating every time he moves inside you are obscene and filthy. You feel as though the very thin line between pain and pleasure is completely dissolving. Leaving instead a oh so addicting mixture of them both, making you crave more, and more. Your walls clamp down on him even harder. A loud moan sounding from you at the intoxicating pleasure he provides, as you near your second orgasm of the night. "I need it. Need you. Fill me up, master, please." You whimper as your eyes travel upwards again, observing the way his muscles flex, of how he's holding you so tight. You meet his gaze, his eyes solely and utterly focused on you, as if no one else exists.

For the first time, Jungkook is the one who follows a command. One that slipped past your lips so sweetly he’s unable to reject the power you hold over him as well. “T-then make me cum…” he huffs between labored breaths and low moans. He snaps his hips upwards, harder, fucking his thick cock into you without restriction. It’s impossibly hard, swollen and ready to burst at any given moment. “Give me some more noise,” The demon pleads and commands at once, his strong hands squeezing the flesh of your ass between his fingers, easily moving your body like a rag doll to fuck down on his length. The wet sounds drive him mad— a clear proof that you’re enjoying it just as much as he does, if not more. “I’ll c-cum, fill you up so well… claim you fully, finally— uff..”

Every thrust of his gets you closer. Eyes rolling back at the sheer power the demon presents as he handles your body as he pleases. You listen to his demands, letting your sobs of pure bliss echo even louder. “A-aah, so so close, please, ugh, give me everything. M-master, please cum” The utter desperation in your voice would’ve made you embarrassed, if you weren’t so gone in painful pleasure. Truly losing yourself on a demon’s cock. One more hard push against your spot is all it takes for you to crash down around him. Head thrown back, toes curling, walls convulsing, trying to milk him dry, as white euphoria spreads throughout your body.

One last punishing thrust is all it takes before he stills your body on top of his own, cock buried as deep as physically possible. The moment he felt his length he tightly squeezed by the soft warmth of your insides, he loses his composure.

 “Fuckin’ hell…” he spits curses as he comes, wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you tight. He buries his face in your soft chest, muffling his deep moans, body trembling with every constricting pulse of your cunt. The demon doesn’t move the entire time, stuck in his frozen state of letting it all out— thick, hot gushes of cum filling you up with every throb that stirs inside of you. It isn’t until now that he truly feels that you belong to him once again, this time it is absolute. He sighs, pleased with what he’s accomplished. He places gentle kisses on your chest as a reward, still holding you in his arms to offer leverage when he feels your body relax more and more as you come back down from your orgasm.

“Y/N..” He looks up at you, craning his neck to hover closer to your lips with his own, “kiss me.” A kiss with a demon to seal your promise. It’s merely a courtesy, an old tradition— not to mention, he’s claimed you fully with his own seed. But Jungkook is old fashioned at heart, and craves to feel the dedication through such a simple act that could feel more intimate than anything he’s done to her tonight.

The way Jungkook holds you, with an unexpected preciousness, and the tenderness of his kisses, leaves you feeling content and warm. You can’t quite understand it, but it’s as if something has finally fallen into place. The odd sense of belonging and familiarity you've felt during the night growing. Though you’re currently too tired to dwell on it further. Even in the claws of a demon, and despite how you succumbed to pleasure and thereby truly gave up your mind and body to him, there is still a softness, holiness, inside you, buried in your soul. So, you release your strong grip around his neck and slowly, carefully, raise your hands to trace the features of his face. You travel from his nose, to his cheeks and chin, before finally letting your fingers follow the form of his red lips. You wish so deeply for him to praise you, so with lips nearly touching his, you mumble, “Did.. did I do good?”, before you finally move forward. Gently letting your lips meet the demon’s.

“Mmm.” He hums into the kiss, letting his lips linger on yours for a moment before pulling back. He moves a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Beyond my expectations.” He lets his fingers comb through your hair slowly, then looks sighs pleasantly. “Are you in any pain?” He asks, suddenly a bit worried about your well being, “it was your first time.”

You look at where you both are still connected. His length acting like a plug, keeping his semen deep inside you, your lower belly slightly swollen at the amount. The feeling is unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. You'd most certainly feel the effects of your rough first time tomorrow, but right now you're just in a dazed bliss. Fulfilled, at Jungkook's approval of you. So you shake your head slightly. Burying your face in his neck, you mumble "No.. but.." A yawn. "Sleepy..". Eyes closing as the fatigue takes over.

The demon freezes for a moment, feeling your body relax against his. It’s different than subduing you to simply fuck— he wasn’t prepared for the… incredibly gentle and timid way you seemed to trust him. He’d lie if he said he didn’t feel something stir in his chest. The urge to protect grew even more, you seemed so small and fragile.

“I’ll…” he looks around your apartment. It seemed too tedious to move you to his home, and dragging you down to hell is in no rush as of yet.. believe it or not, he might be a demon, but he’s not about to strip you from, what he’s heard, is the best years of a young humans life. Besides, he doesn’t mind the human world. He’s been around for your entire life, so what’s some more. “I’ll put you in bed..” he mutters as he stands up slowly, easily carrying you in his arms. His cock slips out, a quiet sigh once again leaving his lips. He feels his cum seep out of you and against his legs, and he grimaced slightly at the feeling. It’s scorching hot. “Maybe a wash first.”

You nuzzle further into his arms as he carries you to your bathroom. His strong and large frame taking up almost all the room in the cramped space. You knew it was strange, how you gave up yourself to him so easily, and how you now so desperately craved his touch and attention. But you can’t help it. You’ve been lonely for so long. He slowly releases you to stand, still a tight grip on your arms to keep you from falling on your wobbly legs. You fear he’s going to leave you there, and instantly you look up a bit more awake, “Don’t.. don’t go.” You quietly whimper.

Jungkook’s amber eyes widen as he looks back down at you. His heart— or whatever is in there replicating it, seems to malfunction and skip a beat for a short second. Then it tightens in his chest—painfully.

“I won’t go. Never again.” He says back, just as quiet. He hugs you close, using a free hand to turn on the shower head to wash you down. Now he’s got you, he will definitely never let you slip away again.

You nod a bit absentmindedly, feeling comforted by his words, but still too tired to question exactly what he means - Never again. With struggle, you try your best to stay awake as he cleans you. His hands now so gently touching your body. Eyes looking at you with something close to devotion. The thought would have seemed impossible only hours ago, but.. you feel… safe. When he turns off the water, deeming you clean enough, you lift your hands to lay around his neck again, wanting to stay as close as possible. You timidly place a small kiss on his chest, before you softly murmur “Mm’ so tired.. Is it okay if I, hmm, sleep now?”

“Yes, angel… sleep.” Jungkook wraps you in a towel before he carries you again, guiding himself to find your bedroom. It’s not much, compared to his own house— but it’s sweet. He gently puts you down on the bed, taking the towel off again before he places the blanket over your body to keep you from catching a cold. The demon takes a seat at the edge of the bed, looking at you. He says nothing, but he somehow ends up admiring the soft features of your tired form. When he thinks you’re asleep, he carefully stands up to curiously roam your bedroom, looking at simple things such as the little books on your shelf.

Bright sunlight is coaxing you awake. You slowly open your eyes, lifting your hands to try and rub the sleep from them before you can focus on the sight in front of you. On the edge of your bed there is a man. The man. The demon. Jungkook. Your breath hitches as memories return to you. Blood rising to your cheeks as you remember exactly what happened last night. How you pleaded for pleasure, how he touched you and how you touched him. How you begged him not to go. For a second you're overcome with the urge to hide underneath your blanket, though you realize that won't help much. But you still pull it closer, trying to cover your naked body as much as possible, although he's already seen it. He's seen more of you than anyone. That the memories are indeed real is obvious in the soreness throughout your body. You feel tender bruises cover your body, your limbs weak, but most apparent, is the pain in your lower abdomen. It really happened. Now that your mind isn't clouded by lust, you feel shy and uncertain again. You don't know what to say or do. And his intense eyes on you doesn't make it easier. With a meek voice you say the first thing that comes to mind, "Uhm, good morning.."

"Good morning, angel." The demon sat idly next to you, as if he hadn't moved for hours. And he hadn't, since he doesn't need to sleep, he merely observed you for the entirety of the night. "Don't be shy with me," he smiles, reaching out to brush away stray hairs that covered your face, "I've seen it all. Besides, you're mine now. He blinks slowly when he hears your stomach grumble, tilting his head slightly as his eyes glance at the clock on your wall. "It's still early... Let me get you something to eat."

The casual possessiveness stir your emotions once again. His actions felt so certain, so confident. You feel yourself lean into his touch, a pleasant shiver down your spine at the warmness of his skin. This feeling. Yesterday you’d ignored it, but you knew you couldn’t any longer. There is more to it than that deal with your mother, you’re sure of it. Because how could a person you’ve never met before, feel so familiar? So... right? You needed to know. But as your stomach growls again you nod at his suggestion. And despite what he said, you can’t help but reach for your nightgown, thrown on a stool beside the bed, and put it on quickly. You let your feet touch the floor to stand, but you’re too swift, too weak still, which makes you quickly lose your balance.

Jungkook quickly gets up on his feet to catch you in his arms, and tsk's quietly. "Suppose I did not put enough consideration into your fragile body last night. Not as sturdy as my own." he sounds amused though, yet he doesn't let you go as he ensures your balance with the strength of his own body. "Are there any nearby food places? Or do you have anything I could cook up." He might be a demon, but he's not clueless. Having endless amounts of time on his hands, learning about simple pleasures such as human food was one of his odd interests. Only this time, it would be his first time offering it to somebody.

You blink a few times in surprise. Was this really the same man as yesterday? The sin incarnate? So soft now, in his actions and words. You don't flinch away from his touch but let him hold you up. Fearing your legs might not hold you on your own. "You.. want to cook? ...for me?" You can't help the small giggle that escapes you at the thought of the mighty demon cooking by your cheap, slightly broken, stove. "Hm.. well I guess I have some eggs? And there should be some bread and maybe fruit too somewhere." You continue as you look up at him again.

Jungkook scrunches his nose in response, but he’s unable to hide a small close-lipped smile. “What’s so funny about that?” He holds you tight by the waist and guides you towards the kitchen to keep him company, setting you down by the kitchen table. He then looks at you for a moment, then shakes his head. “Humans are so weak.” He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, and looks inside the fridge for what he’s got to work with. Without much else to say, he grabs everything he finds fit and begins to cook, swiftly and confidently that it will be of taste for her. After all, he has a bunch of what flavors would suit her best.

"What's not funny about the big bad demon cooking for a "weak" human?" A chuckle. "Don't you have a reputation to uphold?" You ask teasingly. Although he was completely out of place in your run-down kitchen, the demon moved around with ease and confidence. The image weirdly domestic. You couldn’t even remember the last time somebody had cooked for you. You lift your legs, sitting criss crossed on the chair, as you continue to watch him work on your breakfast. He'd left his shirt off, leaving you free to roam your gaze over his muscular back and arms. Yesterday he'd asked you if you found him pretty. You bite your lip. Just “pretty” wasn’t enough. The man, demon - you remind yourself-, was simply.. “..perfect.” You sigh. A stark blush spreads across your cheeks as you realise that you unintentionally said it aloud.

“Mm? You think so?” Jungkook smirks as he looks over his shoulder at you. He definitely heard you, and it made him crook a coy brow, cocky and knowing that he is attractive— especially for you. “Here’s your ‘human fuel’, angel.” He scoffs with a smile as he brings you a large plate, stacked with various goods like omelet, some sliced fruits, and triangle cut grilled cheese sandwiches. He might’ve gone a bit overboard—- but he wouldn’t settle to give you any less. “Taste it.” He commands as he takes the seat in front of you, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He watches with curiosity.

With cheeks still tinted red, even more so by his continuous use of that pet name, you move your gaze from Jungkook to the plate in front of you. “Wow!” You gasp joyfully, your eyes wide looking at the chef-like food he’d prepared for you. “It looks amazing!”. You say as you grab a fork to taste the omelet, more than happy to oblige his wishes. A pleasant moan leaves you as you savor the dish. It was safe to say, the best eggs you’d ever had. “A demon chef.” You note, chuckling, as you continue on to taste the fruits -deciding on trying a piece of pineapple. The sweet juiciness makes you hum gleefully. Spilling a bit down your chin. You consider his words, “‘Human fuel’, does that mean you don’t eat?” You had no idea of how demon anatomy worked and you didn’t want to impolitely eat without sharing.

“I can…” Jungkook reaches out and grabs a piece of the pineapple and pops it into his mouth to prove his point. “But I don’t need to. It does nothing for me.” He does watch you with intrigue though. Although he has no need for food, just like he has no need for sleep— he can still enjoy the flavors on his tongue. “I can still taste perfectly fine, though. I like this..” he steals another piece of the fruit with a smirk, letting it rest on his tongue before chewing it. “Sweet. Like you.”

The demon was determined to never let the blush leave your face, it seemed. You smile shyly nonetheless. But the subtle reminder of last night makes you remember all the questions you have for him once again. Your eyes flicker between him and your plate, trying to find the courage to ask him.

“Uhm.. Jungkook?” You start timidly, chewing your lip. “Last night you said that my mother sold me to you but.. there’s something more right? Something you’re not telling me..? I mean, yesterday, it somehow felt like… I knew you… and now, after all that happened, I should be scared of you, shouldn’t I? But I’m not.. at least I don’t think I am.. I just don’t understand…” You sigh. “And then.. what did you mean when you said you’ll never leave me again?”

Jungkook’s eyes seem to study you for a moment, silently swiping his tongue over his lower lip to get rid of the sweet pineapple juices.

“That’s a lot of questions at once, angel..” he says, leaning back into his seat again and crossing his arms. He sighs, but he seems to give in when he notices your curiosity— subtly laced with pain of the unknown feelings between the two of you, “I made sure she made the deal with me because I wanted you specifically for a reason.” He pauses to ensure that you’re keeping up, then continues. “You and I used to be angels.” It’s a big bomb to drop at once, and he’s not sure how you’d take it. Either way, he leans forward and places his elbows on the table, leaving his hands open for you as an offer, “Father… god didn’t like that at all…” a displeased expression forms on his face from the memory, “and banished us… separated us.. and I was sent to hell. Hence why I am now a demon.. and you..”

Jungkook takes a breath as if he’s the one who has to keep his composure. “You were sent back to be reborn as a human, thinking I would never find you again.” He looks down at the table, and a small smirk tugs on his lips. “Foolish of him to underestimate me. I would go through every inch of this earth to find you. And I did. And here we are.” He looks back up at you and smiles. “I’d never leave you by my own free will. I was forced to. But now we can be together again.”

You blink a few times, trying to find your voice, to find words to say. “An.. angel?” You mumble. Well, it made sense in a way. If there are demons -and you were sure of that, you had no doubt that Jungkook was in fact a demon- there should also be angels. But that you had been one? That you had been banished, that Jungkook had been too… There was so much, too much, to take in, to grasp, but it was one detail that stuck with you. That made everything else fade in comparison. “You… waited for me? Looked for me?” You whisper. You lift your hands carefully, only hesitating for a second before you put them in his waiting ones. Your smaller hands fit so perfectly with his. As if they belonged there.

“Yes,” Jungkook nods, smiling softly when he realizes that you seem to begin to understand. He squeezes your hands gently in his, “everything I’ve done and will do is for you.” He means it. There isn’t a single stutter or sign of hesitation in his voice as he speaks directly to you, even seemingly relieved that you now know his truth, and took it awfully well in comparison to what could’ve been. No screaming, no running… things seemed to go his way. “I’ve gone through heaven and hell to reunite us.” He gets up on his feet, circling the table until he kneels on the floor next to you, still holding your hands. He looks up at you through fluttering, raven lashes, and kisses your knuckles, “I took fathers punishment for you. There is no one that would do this for you— except myself. Do you know, just how deep my desire for you goes..”

And you crave that affection and desire so deeply. It’s everything you've wanted, and never had anyone given it to you. Always alone. But maybe.. maybe not anymore. Maybe you’d just waited for him, just as he had been waiting for you. His soft warm lips against you gives you pleasant goose bumps. You release one of his hands to gently caress his cheek before moving down to trace his reddish lips, wanting to feel them against yours again. To taste him. But you need to hear him say it first. The words you’ve so desperately searched for. Even though his actions may have proven it already, you want to hear the words leave his lips. With your thumb still stroking his bottom lip, you meet his eyes. "You.. you love me then?" Perhaps your own desire for love runs just as deep as his desire for you.

“Love…” Jungkook repeats the word softly, the slight movement of his lips almost like a kiss against your thumb. His doe eyes look up at you, and for once, they weren’t that of a powerful, intimidating demon. Now, he could easily be mistaken for a regular man, with nothing but sweet affection in the way he looked at you. “I love you more than I loved god.” He says it quietly, because he’s never said it before. Not like this. He defied his own father for love. He went against god's will to have you— and that is just how deeply he knew that you were his very reason for existence. “I’ve always loved you, since your soul was created. In every form you’ve had— I loved you.” He doesn’t hesitate, but he seems to be getting carried away with what must be his feelings. He hadn’t felt this strongly— until he really started talking about it out loud to your face. His eyes widen, staring up at you with a look that becomes more and more possessive. “I have you now. So I will love you forever.”

Your heart clenches. It feels as if you're drowning and can breathe clearly for the first time, all at once. You don’t care that he's a demon. You don’t care that his words are just as much a declaration of obsession as it is of love. You ignore every bright shining red sign. He loves you. He did everything to get to you. And for you, that's everything that matters. You can't find the right words to say, don't know how to express what you're feeling. So you show it instead. With eyes glittering like stars you bend forward to let your lips meet his. Softly, as you share a breath between each other, you whisper "I'm yours."

Jungkook smiles into the kiss, cupping your small face in his hands to keep you lingering. He withdraws after a moment, looking up at you with his dark, infinitely deep eyes. “I have a question…” he says then, standing up straight. His hands settle on his hips, tilting his head like a curious puppy, “do you like it here? On earth, I mean. This life.”

You blink in surprise at the sudden question, and the sudden cuteness (in which you can’t help but inwardly coo at). “Well.. I-.. I haven’t really thought about it.. But, yes and no, I guess?” You say, a small frown appearing as you try to gather your thoughts. “My mom and I, as you might understand, didn’t have the best relationship. She.. she was never there as my classmates' parents were. Never cared about me at all. And I couldn’t figure out why. What I had done to make her feel that way. And so I spent most of my childhood sad. Sad over.. not belonging anywhere.” You sigh. “And then in my teens, I was mostly angry. Angry that she’d treated me this way. Angry that I wasn’t pretty or interesting enough for anyone to notice me. That.. nobody wanted me.”

“But-” You continue as you look up at him, a small smile on your lips. “ - during all that, I also felt hope. Hope for a better life. I waited, longed, to grow up, to move out and finally create the life I wanted. And that’s beautiful, isn’t it? That one can decide one’s own purpose? I haven’t really gotten where I want to be yet though. I’ve been working all my adult life to save up money to--…” A thought suddenly crosses your mind, and you turn your eyes from Jungkook to the clock on the wall. Your eyes widen and you quickly stand up, slightly panicked. “Oh no!” You scream. “Work! Jungkook, I’m late!”

Jungkook glances over at the clock as well, and his eyebrows raise when he looks back at you and smiles. "Want me to take you there?" he asks as he grabs your hand to help you out of the chair, "I want to go too."

A few months later.

“Oh, Jungkook, you’re too funny!” Your new, pretty, co-worker Hana laughs as she playfully puts her hand on his shoulder. You can’t hear Jungkook’s answer, other than that it makes Hana giggle even more. With a huff of annoyance you drop the dirty dishes in the sink with a crash. For the last couple of months Jungkook had stayed with you, following you everywhere you went, including the bar you worked at. Not a surprise, the deadly handsome demon always made quite the commotion. Females and males, customers and colleagues, often fought over his attention, though got disappointed every time at his lack of interest. His attention was solely on you. And you’d gotten used to it, the feel of his eyes on you at every time -especially when you talked with male customers-. Every time someone got rejected, it gave you a small wave of satisfaction, although you would never admit it aloud. But now. Now, Jungkook wasn’t only talking to Hana, who was so obviously flirting with him, he let her touch him, practically encouraging her to continue, and he’d turned away from you. He hadn’t looked at you the whole evening. You bite your lip, staring at them both as you tap your foot angrily.

“Hey, Y/N, everything alright?” Seokjin, the bartender asks. You look up at the male standing beside you. Eyes suddenly sparkling as you get an idea.

Jungkook's toothy smile quickly vanishes the second he actually glances back at you, noting just how close you're standing to your coworker, Seokjin. He's surely handsome, without a doubt. He doesn't immediately say or do anything, but continues to idly listen to Hana ramble. It turns into a blur the longer he feels your presence mix with another man's. He nods mindlessly at Hana's words, finally unable to look away from you, crooking an eyebrow in your direction.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes turn to you. Finally, you have his attention. But you don't stop there. Seokjin had, for as long as you'd known each other, shown an interest in you but you'd been too shy and insecure from the previous few, short-lived, relationships you'd had to dare indulge him. Now, though, maybe you could use that.

"Yeah, everything's fine Jinnie!" You say cheerfully, giving him a big smile. Seokjin shows a look of surprise at the sudden nickname and interest, but he gathers himself quickly. "You look great today Jinnie, did you do something to your hair?"

You'd never really flirted before so your skills were pretty much non-existent but Seokjin didn't seem to mind. Smiling confidently at your comment, he smugly answers, "I tried a new gel actually, fun that you noticed."

"Mm, yeah, it looks great on you Jinnie! There's just a hair strand there sticking out of place, here let me." You say, trying to sound enticing, as you lift your hand to smooth down a lock of his hair. Coming real close to him in the meantime. "There! Now you look perfect." Seokjin almost drools, his eyes as saucers at your closeness. You feel Jungkook shooting daggers at you and you know that you've probably gone too far already, still you perform the last part of your plan. Using every bit of acting skill you've got, you reach for a glass on the shelf next to Seokjin, but you "lose balance", and with a small whelp you stumble right into him. He grabs a hold of your waist and pulls you closer into his embrace to stop you from falling. You only stay in his arms for a moment though.

Jungkook can tell what you’re trying to do— and even more so, he can sense the way Seokjin reeks with desire for you. It made his lip twitch, and he hid it with an annoyed sneer.

“Jungkook? Are you listening?” Hana lays a deliberate hand on his strong bicep to get a feel, but she gasps when his rejection comes in the form of suddenly stalking towards you instead.

“I’m parched …” Jungkook took a stance by the bar counter, his voice cutting through the tension between you and Seokjin, snapping him back to reality. His eyes flicker between the two of you, and his gritting smile tenses, “How about serving me a drink instead of playing lovebirds?”

Seokjin turns his eyes to Jungkook, flicking nervously at the demon’s intimidating gaze but, surprisingly, doesn't move away from you. Feeling confident at the sultry smile you give him, before you turn your attention to Jungkook. With a voice laced with venom you say, “Oh, I bet your throat is dry after all that talking. Why don’t you ask Hana for a drink? I’m sure she’d be happy to serve you.”

Jungkook’s cheek protrudes as his tongue rolls against the inside of the flesh, a telltale sign that he is not amused by your attitude. A small smirk plays on his lips, though.

“Y/N.” He says your name sternly, laying his palms flat on the counter surface. His tattooed, vascular hands move delicately as his fingers tap against the material, and he stares right at you. “Come with me. Now.” He doesn’t look back when he turns around to head towards the back door of the bar building, knowing there’s not many people around at this hour. He knows you’ll follow. Or at least, if you knew what is best, you would, or he would ensure this is the last time you’d play with his possessive nature.

You consider ignoring him for a moment, but decide against it. You hadn’t really wanted to make him angry.. you just.. wanted his attention.

“Y/N?” Seokjin mumbles hesitantly as you move to follow Jungkook.

You feel slightly guilty for using him and try to give him an apologizing smile, “It’s alright Jinnie, I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Jungkook waits for you in the back alley shadows. His own dark form almost blending into the background. Although it’d probably be better to just apologize for deliberately pushing his buttons, seeing him instantly makes you think of Hana again. Of her hand on him, him smiling at her. He had started it, you’d just given him a taste of what it felt like. “What do you want?” you snarl, eyes harsh. “Shouldn’t you go back inside? I’m sure Hana is looking for you.”

Jungkook steps out of the shadows, illuminated by the faint light attached to the building. His arms are crossed over his chest, jaw clenched tight in a frown. "Hana?" he repeats the name, staring you down harsher with each word you spit. He steps closer, the crimson swirling in his irises glowing in the dark to remind you of what he is. It might've been easy to forget as of late, as he'd spent months living with you, more.. human. But tonight, it seemed like jealousy had gotten the better of them both. "Oh, the girl..." He hums, tapping his fingers over his bicep, "Is that why you began to cling onto another man? So easily?" Another step closer, and his frown forms into a sneer, "Jealousy."

Jealousy? You hadn’t put a name to the emotions you felt, but he was correct you realized. You were jealous. He stands so close to you now, the smell of his cologne distinct. Your instincts tell you to back away, recognizing the danger the demon exudes, but you don’t. Instead you mimic his hold, crossing your own arms over your chest.

“Didn’t feel so good did it?” You counter, looking up at him. “Seeing me in Seokjin’s arms? His comfortable strong hold around me... Mm, you know what? I actually think he's rather fond of me, don’t you?” Grinning smugly as you taunt him. You’ve taken it too far, you know it. But you can’t stop. You’ve never felt like this before -entirely, and utterly, consumed by jealousy.

“Don’t say that..” Jungkook didn’t like it one bit. He knew— of course he knew. He could sense how badly Seokjin wanted you, just as he could sense the caution the man had around the demon, without surely knowing why. “Don’t taunt me, angel. You might think this is funny, don’t you…” he stands right in front of you now, reaching out to caress your cheek, moving your hair away from your face. He’s gentle, and yet there is a tension in his fingers. He held back urges to tug at your hair— to grab you by your neck. Jungkook looks down at you and growls quietly. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill him right now.”

“You wouldn’t!” you growl back. “Don’t you dare touch him, Jungkook.” You roughly turn away from his touch, unknowingly pushing him even further into finally snapping. Maybe that is what you wanted all along. For him to show that you’re his. And to show that he’s yours.

"Why? Do you care about him?!" Jungkook cages your body with his, slamming his fists into the wall of the building behind you, back still facing him. His heavy, heated breaths fan against the back of your head, and it's impossible to not notice that he's angered. "I could kill him for simply touching you-- you have no say in it. I've done it before for less, I..." He grits his teeth, his nails clawing the walls until they crumble in his fingers, pebbles rolling by your feet. Within a split second, one hand moves up to brush away your hair from your neck, leaning in close to press his lips against it, "You're driving me crazy when you act like this.."

Your heartbeat quickens and your eyes widen. He’d done it before? It should terrify you, the sheer strength and power he presents, the lengths he’d go for you... but it doesn't. Instead you feel the insecurity and jealousy you’ve felt dampen. He had done it for you. Not Hana, or anyone else. It was proof- was it not? Of his devotion and love. Only for you. You face him again. Only a few centimeters apart. His eyes are fire, his breathing heavy in anger. The tension between you is palpable-- burning. You lift your heels to reach his height, a hand on his chest to keep your balance. You look into those deep red eyes and move closer, your lips grazing his as you speak, “Show me then. Show me how crazy I make you.” Moving your lips to whisper in his ear, “Hm? Master~~.” Before giving his cheek a possessive lick, as he’d done to you all those months ago.

Whatever you were doing to trigger a reaction from the demon, it seemed to work. In fact, it might've worked too well, as he didn't hesitate to shove your back against the building with a thud. If he weren't aware that you're merely a human, he would've used much more of his strength. And even then, he used more than he should've. But it was what you asked for-- for him to be rough and careless. You just brought it out of him too easily.

"That's more like it," Jungkook approved, though he knows you're playing with him. Part of him enjoyed it, the way only you could stir his emotions and put his desires in a hormonal twist, "Maybe I've been too soft with you lately, huh? Do you miss this?" The demon's strong hands tug at your clothes, ripping the seams to expose your chest for him. He didn't care-- he could buy you a new one. Hungry eyes glance down at the plump of your breasts, hidden beneath a bra that he's quick to rip apart with a swift snip of his strong fingers between the cups. He smiles happily, shamelessly indulging in the way your chest subtly jiggles as they're freed. "You just needed to be reminded of how much I love this," he grabs one breast in his large palm, licking his lips at how the supple flesh warms his skin. It is claiming, as if it belongs to him to take, "This body, isn't that it?"

You barely acknowledge the pain in your back from his roughness. Welcoming the bruises and marks made by him. The proof of his desire for you. It's true, you have missed this side of him. When he’s so blinded by lust for you, acting by raw unfiltered hunger. Providing you with equal parts pleasure and pain. It’s when you feel the most wanted. And you crave that. More than anything, you so perilously crave feeling truly claimed by the demon. Your nipples perk quickly in the chilly night air. The thought of someone seeing you in such a wrecked manner, only in a thrashed top and short skirt, combined with the demon’s, as always, skilled hands on you makes your arousal grow quickly. But as always, you want more.

“Yes, mm please master, show that I’m yours” You moan, gasping as his grips on your breast hardens, “Show who owns me.” Your hand finds his raven hair, nails grazing his scalp, urgently tugging his roots as you try to pull him to your chest. Wanting his mouth on you-- needing it. “Please.” You beg, eyes desperate.

A low, demonic growl rumbles in his chest-- a clear approval of the way you plead and whine for him. He obliges, letting his tongue taste the skin of your chest before sucking it into his mouth. He hums quietly, his other hand lifting your skirt. A swift knee digs between your thighs, rubbing against your panties as his teeth graze your nipple in a playful bite. "Yeah? Right here? So that the entire block can hear you-- So that damn coworker of yours can hear just what kind of a demon-slut you are." Jungkook switches and gives your other breast the same treatment, sucking and biting at the skin until it's blemished with his possessive markings.

---

A/N: Yeah we didn’t get further than that sorry for cockblocking you. I could’ve removed the entire scene and just ended it earlier, but I didn’t want to. Thank you for reading it, and imagine the rest of the smut on your own. xoxo

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© ꜱᴏᴍʙʀᴇʙᴏʏ 2021. Do not repost, edit or translate.

#fic: hellbound #sombreboy #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #dom jungkook #top jungkook #demon jungkook #bts demon au #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #bts smut #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #bts supernatural au #yandere bts #yandere jungkook

[placesyoucallhome]

Yvet Ardouin

The Basics ––– –

Age: early to mid 30s

Birthday: 4th Sun of the 4th Umbral Moon

Race: Duskwight

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Demi, poly

Marital Status: Single

Server: Mateus

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: A dusty mauve

Eyes: Ivory

Height: 6 fulms, 6 ilms

Build: Lean, well toned

Distinguishing Marks: A blade scar as well as old friction burns on his face, quite a few various scars across his body

Common Accessories: Often wears a mask

Personal ––– –

Profession: Mercenary?

Hobbies: Whittling, mandolin

Languages: Gelmoran, common

Residence: None, often seen in the Shroud

Birthplace: Gelmorra

Religion: Ambivalent to the Twelve

Patron Deity: None of note

Fears: Loud noises, losing people close to him, not having full control of his faculties

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: Deceased?

Siblings: None

Other Relatives: Various estranged relatives in Gelmorra

Pets: None

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Not usually Drugs: No Alcohol: Sometimes

RP Hooks ––– –

Merc for Hire- Living out in the wilds of the Shroud hasn’t left Yvet with much to get by on, though he doesn’t want for much either. He’s content with working for a meal or two, or a small stipend. He is, however picky about his contracts and jobs.

Ex-Woodwailer- Years ago, Yvet was one of the best of the Woodwailers, at least as much as he and his team could be, made up of misfits as they were. They may have been suspiciously close, but seemingly the only survivor of Cartineau was Yvet. He did not return to Gridania then, but only seemed to surface again a few years later.

A Ghost of the Shroud- While poachers and bandits loiter in the woods, another shadow seems to haunt the fringes. However there seems to be little rhyme or reason to who meets their end at his hands and who does not. But since something of a balance is kept, nothing ever seems to be done about it.

Gelmorran Native- Quite some time ago, Yvet did walk the halls of Gelmorra. He may still have family there, other Ardoins that have yet to leave, but none can recall a Yvet. That seems like an oddly short name for an elezen, doesn’t it?

Missing Partners- Once there was a team of four oddities in the Woodwailer’s barracks, a keeper girl, a hyur boy, a roe woman, and a very quiet duskwight. They did their jobs and well, even if they were just as often the cause of trouble. None made it back to Gridania after Cartineau. Except, for the duskwight, some years after. Yvet still seems to be looking for the rest of them, whether out of stubborn resolve or the inability to move on.

Shoulder to Lean on- Despite his quiet nature and often bloody day-to-day, Yvet is surprisingly gentle and patient to those that he finds some affection for. If a safe haven is needed, and secrets are to be kept, one could do far worse than the stoic elezen.

Contact Information  ––– –

OOC: Yo kiddos, I’m Ruhka, or Q, hell call me Yvet or Places if you want, I don’t care! I’m primarily a paragraph rper that likes to match, and that’s still attempting to get into game rping, I might be a little slow to respond in game is all. I’m well and truly old enough to drink and I’d far prefer it if my partners were 21+ as well, and have a sporadically busy office job. I’m willing to do some mature topics, and plenty of dark topics, but erp is a no go right off the bat. But if it makes sense for the characters and I’m comfortable with your writing style that can change. Because Yvet is a poly character, I’m very much going to be picky with his ships, if he gets any.

Contact: Feel free to poke or message me here, or send Yvet random starters or questions (my anon is on)! If somehow you see me in game, toss me a whisper, or just /slap me, either works! If you’d rather my discord I can give that as well.

@ffxiv-crystal-rp​ @mooglemeet​ @crystalxivrp​

Tagged posts

#ff14 #ff14 rp #ffxiv rp #ff14 lfrp #Final Fantasy 14 #Yvet Ardoin #RP Profile #Spring is nigh #and that means spring cleaning of tumblr #Yvet will be difficult to rp in game for a bit but possible if I have forewarning

[sworn-protector]

THE VITALS ——–

NAME: Gael Radley // Originally R'gael Tia

AGE: 29

NATIONALITY: La Noscean

CITIZENSHIP: Kugane

GENDER: Male

OTHER INFORMATION ——–

RACE & CLAN: Miqo'te Seeker (R-tribe, a small migrating sept)

NAMEDAY:  18th sun of the 5th umbral moon (May 18th)

ORIENTATION: Bisexual

MARITAL STATUS: Single.

RESIDENCE: Various safehouses provided to him by his employer across Eorzea and the Far east.

OCCUPATION: Yakuza agent, freelancer, 

PATRON DEITY: Non-religious and Non-spiritual.

ALIGNMENT: True Neutral/Chaotic Neutral.

APPEARANCE ——–

HAIR: Gael's hair is often swept in front of his face, kept longer and cut into shaggy, piecey layers.

EYES: Hauntingly bright silver, Often his captivating eyes are the first thing people notice about him - a fact he tends to weaponize when turning on the charm.

HEIGHT: Five fulm 10 ilm. (5'10)

BUILD: Sleek and lithe, kept trim by the exercise required in his line of work.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A linkpearl connecting him to his employer.

FAMILY TIES ——–

SPOUSE: None

CHILDREN: None (But he’s been around the block, so this is a POTENTIAL hook, would need a lot of consideration and discussion)

PARENTS: Unknown (His sire was the Nunh, but not something Gael speaks of.)

SIBLINGS: Half siblings Likely, but unknown. (Potential hook for R-tribe members)

OTHER RELATIVES: None known (Potential hook for R-tribe members)

PETS: None

OTHER: Has a deeply-rooted loyalty to Terugan Osai, Hingan crime lord. Closest person he considers family, though you would not interpret that from their interactions with each other.

QUICK INFO ——–

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between /  disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between / outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between empathetic / unemphatic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between / traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / uncultured / in between loyal / disloyal / in between faithful / unfaithful / in between

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

OOC INFORMATION AND HOOKS ——–

Void Presence - Though he does not make it public, Gael possesses the blessing of Hydaelyn and with this comes the unique ability to traverse the void. He has traveled to and from the void with the aid of a Viera witch ( @season-of-maha ), who he repays with artifacts and tokens from beyond. If your character is void-touched or a voidsent, Gael may be able to sense something amiss yet familiar about them, and should a threat be verifiable, he may resolve it best to put it down.

Gang Gang - For years, Gael has served directly beneath Terugan Osai. As a foreigner in a land ruled by tradition, it may seem incredibly odd he would hold such rank. He places no value in Hingan traditions of Honor or chivalry, there is no doubt he has and will kill again for the glory of his Raen Crime lord.  Do you lack Hingan heritage but want to get in with the Yakuza? Let someone who already has an in help you. It’s a life of luxury and pleasure, but it comes at a cost.

Do you have a lucrative small business and no way to defend it? You may be susceptible to yakuza influence. If you'd like, you can pay for their protection - if not, it would certainly be unfortunate if something happened to your livelihood. Gael keeps an eye out for businesses that are not only vulnerable, but whose services could prove useful to them.

Been around town - Charming to a fault, Gael prides himself on his ability to connect with people, and has no shame indulging in life’s more carnal pleasures. Seduction is his game, and he likes to hold sway over the hearts of others - a valuable tool for one who works in reconnaissance and intelligence.

R-tribe fugitive - Gael was a kid when he left his tribe in the dead of night. The stories are conflicting - some insist the death of the sept’s nunh was an accident at the hands of a child who was frightened. Others insist the young R’gael had a terribly violent streak and lashed out against his sire in anger. The only one who knows what truly happened that fateful night is Gael, and good luck getting him to talk about it. 

OOC, I AM…

1. A grownup. 21+ with years of RP experience. I’m in a happy, committed relationship. I’m not looking for any OOC romance. 

2. That means no erping. Nothing beyond an R-rated film. That’s what fading to black is for. 

3. Open to almost all manner of dark themes. But please don’t send unsolicited, anon sex fantasies to me. Thats just fucking weird. Lets just talk about RP possibilities like normal people. 

4. I’m often busy. Although I’m on Gael a LOT, I have other characters I RP on and an FC on Mateus I run. I also work two jobs and have more than fulltime hours. However, that said, I’m on a LOT, often at night. 

#Mateus LFC #Crystal LFC #Gael Radley #Mateus RP #Crystal RP

[prpfs]

hello lovelies 🩵 25+ they/she, looking for roleplay partners 21+ to write genshin impact oc x cc double ups together! i typically write third person, past tense, lit to advanced lit.

ive been in the mood for smut heavy plots, but in particular i am hoping to write some darker, more dead dove type of content, though the specifics can be discussed. 🕊️

i would especially love if someone would be willing to write tartaglia against my oc, but this isn't a requirement and im open to switching it to someone else !! in return, i would be happy to write whoever you would like against your oc!!

please keep in mind that while i am hoping for the rp to be smut heavy, as i mentioned above, i am not really looking for just pwp. having at least some plot is important to me, and i would love to brainstorm together and figure out something we would both be happy with !!

im open to any orientation for relationships, as im happy writing straight or queer romances, and i am very inclusive to trans, nonbinary, or other gender nonconforming characters ! likewise i am open to the option of poly, love triangles, or harems, if that interests anyone.

i can get quite excitable when it comes to rps, so i love to chat, ramble about headcanons, make moodboards, draw our ocs, make playlists, etc! i hope to become friends outside of the roleplay, and id be over the moon if you were open to such things haha ! i tend to become very invested in both pairings / sides of the double up, which, honestly, is the biggest reason double ups are my preference !!

anyways !! if this appeals to you at all, please leave a like and i'll reach out!! 🩷

Leave a like, and anon will get back to you!

#genshin impact roleplay #genshin impact rp #fandom roleplay #fandom rp #oc x cc #dead dove #21+ rp

[reflectionbound]

GET TO KNOW THE BLOGGER.

Can be used for RP and non-RP blogs to get to know a bit about the person behind the screen!

1. FIRST NAME: sage

2. STRANGE FACT ABOUT YOURSELF: i have a curvature in my neck, but legally, it cannot be counted as scoliosis since it’s less than 10 degrees. but i still suffer from scoliosis.

3. TOP THREE PHYSICAL THINGS YOU FIND ATTRACTIVE ON A PERSON: i don’t. eyes are pretty. i like funny people. pickup lines.

4. A FOOD YOU COULD EAT FOREVER AND NOT GET BORED OF: sweet potato casserole

5. A FOOD YOU HATE: dairy products; they’re a tease.

6. GUILTY PLEASURE: sending questionable anons.

7. WHAT DO YOU SLEEP IN: a bed. tank top and sweatpants.

8. SERIOUS RELATIONSHIPS OR FLINGS: flirtationships.

9. IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN THE PAST AND CHANGE ONE THING ABOUT YOUR LIFE, WOULD YOU AND WHAT WOULD IT BE: you must reach level 4 friendship to unlock SAGE’S REGRETS.

10. ARE YOU AN AFFECTIONATE PERSON: i show affection in strange ways.

11. A MOVIE YOU COULD WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN: james cameron’s avatar. if you tell me it’s a knockoff of dances with wolves, be prepared for my 7 page essay

12. FAVORITE BOOK: The Infernal Devices

13. YOU HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO KEEP ANY ANIMAL AS A PET, WHAT DO YOU CHOOSE: my sanity. a meerkat or peregrine falcon

14. TOP FIVE FICTIONAL SHIPS [IF YOU ARE AN RP BLOG, YOU CAN USE YOUR OWN SHIPS AS WELL]: Starfire & Robin (Teen Titans), Guren & Shinya (OnS), HisaLisa (ZnT), Zuko & Katara (AtLA), Ty Lee & Azula (AtLA)

15. PIE OR CAKE: i like to have my cake and eat my pie too.

16. FAVORITE SCENT: daisy dream; nasty habit of enjoying the smell of gasoline

17. CELEBRITY CRUSH: Katie McGrath, Daniel Sharman

18. IF YOU COULD TRAVEL ANYWHERE, WHERE WOULD YOU GO: New Zealand

19. INTROVERT OR EXTROVERT: INTJ

20. DO YOU SCARE EASILY: nah.

21. IPHONE OR ANDROID: iphone

22. DO YOU PLAY ANY VIDEO GAMES: Pokemon, Animal Crossing, Harvest Moon, Sims (all the sims), Ark, and World of Warcraft and a bunch of super strange niche games

23. DREAM JOB: employment in the field i love.

24. WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH A MILLION DOLLARS: pay off my student debt and buy my New Zealand trip. stash most of it away.

25. FICTIONAL CHARACTER YOU HATE: ... Lagoon Boy

26. FANDOM THAT YOU WERE ONCE A PART OF BUT AREN’T ANY LONGER: BSD, teen wolf, teen titans, and some others

tagged by: @tobisden​ @galaxythixf​ ( thank you! )

tagging: idk who hasn’t been tagged yet. so if you read this, you should do it since you took the time to get to know me. i wanna get to know you!

#& never trust a duck ( ooc )

[ncumenia-archived]

📱MOBILE-FRIENDLY RULES📱

OTHER LINKS:

lore

bio

headcanons

exclusive ship list

Since English is not my mother language, I apologize in advance if there are some grammatical errors or I use wrong words to describe an action. If something is not clear to you, just let me know, I’ll fix it as soon as I can.

Roleplay Rules:

TAG DUMP HERE!; (NSFW too)

Mun&Muse are both 21+. This blog is selective, 18+ exclusive, canon divergent, duplicates crossover, AU, fandomless, etc… friendly!  

Besides the obvious fact I won't rp smut or ship with minor muns/muses whatsoever, do not follow me if you're underage. This because I feel uncomfortable interacting with minor muns due to the huge age gap that might be between us. (Mun is currently 25 as I write this) Please, don't take it too personally, it's just for my own comfort. Furthermore, if your rules and age (mun is 18+, mun is 23, mun is of age and so on...) are not present on your blog I won’t rp with you at all. Lying about your age will result into a permablock and reported. The same applies if you're underage or your age is not stated and you dare to interact in any kind of NSFW way with me (This also includes liking/commenting my nsfw posts or sending me nsfw asks)

I refuse to ship/interact with: aged up muses (Nunu, Annie, Zoe etc…) and only smut-oriented blogs since they both make me uncomfortable. So, please, if you’re one of these blogs do not follow me.

No godmodding. If our muses are fighting, I’d like to discuss first with the other mun, in order to avoid it as much as possible;

I don’t like “follow for following me back, and if you don’t follow me I’ll unfollow you“ philosophy because I find this kinda disrespectful. I’m also available to interact with you even if we’re not mutuals! Usually, the reasons why I unfollow you are these: spamming too much without using a proper tag, talking shit about other people here on tumblr, spreading useless drama or rumors, posting stuff that makes me uncomfortable or if I somehow assume you’re not interested to interact with me.DMS are always open for plotting!

Currently available verses: Canon, Odyssey, Modern/Academy, Bloodmoon, Deity Please, before interacting with my muse in one of these verses make sure to read the lore and, if something is not clear to you, dm me anytime!;

I’ll try to match length more or less, so don’t worry about that. And please, TAKE YOUR TIME to reply. I have a life too, so don’t worry I’m not the one who runs after others! I tend to easily forget threads, so if I didn’t reply to our thread for like a couple of days dm me!;

I do believe in reblog karma, it’s your choice to send me a meme, but please reblog it from the source and not from me if you don’t want to send me one. If you reblog a meme from me without sending me one for more than once, I’ll block you. I’m sorry about this rule, but after some time this becomes quite annoying;

Any kind of hate toward a nationality/gender/sexual orientation and so on will result in a report and permablock. I believe everyone should respect a person, regardless of their gender/ethnicity/sexual orientation. If you don’t, you’ll get permablocked. Period. The same goes for every kind of insult or anon hate toward me, a ship or a friend: not only you’ll be ignored, but, if it is necessary, I’ll report and permablock you.

This blog is against any kind of fake/unfounded rumors and drama. I'll only reblog callouts that provide evidence about the problematic individual, and mostly about extremely serious topics (like minor hunters, abusers or if someone who is seriously in danger) I'm not afraid to callout people if they have a problematic/gross behavior or if they support/justify problematic/disturbing/traumatic topics.

I won’t rp and tolerate extremely disturbing topics like incest, rape (non-con/dub-con as well), pedophilia, child/animal abuse, and similar. The same goes for every kind of ship where these themes are involved. Mentioning these topics during a thread is okay (For example if you’re talking about your muse’s past), but I’d rather talk with the mun first so we can plot things properly.

Any jokes about child death, rape, racism, disability, sexism and so on are not allowed here. If I see one of them, I may go to your dms and telling you that’s not okay writing these things because they’re harmful, and to stop with that stuff. If you’ll ignore/insult/make fun of me you’ll be permablocked. [Added: 09/07/2019]

This blog may contain triggers such as blood, angst, smoke, drugs, gore, mental health etc. I’ll tag everything and I’ll use “read more”. (I’ll tag my triggers using, for example, “tw: blood” without air quotes) Before rping this stuff with you, I’ll always ask you if you’re okay with it, so do please tell me if you have any triggers or I should tag something specific in my blog! For example, my muse, when she’s overwhelmed by certain feelings or recalls what happened to her kin, she bleeds from her mouth and sternal scar. Please, if this makes you feel uncomfortable don’t be afraid to tell me it; Regarding sexual content, it will also be present, especially during Sinday, but I will always tag everything accordingly and put everything under read more.

Please, tag these two topics: needles and stepping on people. I feel extremely uncomfortable regarding the latter because it's heavily connected with animal abuse, and it makes me feel so sick I start to panic. I only ask you to tag these two topics.

I’m a human being, and sometimes I make mistakes too. If I made something that offended you/made you feel uncomfortable, PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I want to learn from my mistakes.

Shipping rules:

Even if I’m more than aware of the fact an 18+ mun is legally an adult, I realized I feel more comfortable shipping with both muns/muses who are 20+, especially in the case there will be some nsfw. That’s my personal preference, and this is NOT negotiable and it will NEVER be.[added 06/05/2019]

If you don’t want to keep our ship going on, that’s TOTALLY OKAY. I will NEVER get mad at you, neither asking you the motivation. If you don’t feel comfortable anymore, that’s okay and I respect your decision!

This blog is multiship exclusive, that means I'll only ship with one muse/au of that muse. Furthermore, I'll be highly selective with whom I ship with, and I mostly prioritize people I've been friends with for a long time. [EXCLUSIVE SHIP LIST]

I state in advance I don’t ship my muse with Diana, since she sees her as a mother-like figure. So… This basically would be incest, and I feel very uncomfortable with it. Furthermore, I won’t ship with Taric, Leona, Aurelion, Soraka, Zoe (But this is almost needless to say since she’s a minor, but prevention is always better than the cure), and yordles.

Even if I’m extremely fine with a platonic/non-sexual relationship, I’m also okay with some smut and that may occur with a serious plot, and ONLY if I feel comfortable and I trust my rp partner enough. Unfortunately, I don’t feel very comfortable rping it on Tumblr, and I’d rather rp it on Discord. [Please check the smut rules here] DON’T FORCE IT WITH ME, otherwise the ship will be deleted and probably I’ll block you too.

My muse is a revenant (I’m talking about her canon verse. In Odyssey! and Modern! she’s a living being) and NO, shipping with her is NOT necrophilia (She’s NOT a lifeless, nonsentient, smelly and rotten body who cannot give consent. She has revived thanks to Targon/Moon’s magic, and she’s ABLE to consent and she doesn’t smell bad, she’s not rotting and so on). I’m writing this because I’m kinda sick of this subject because “Shipping with Ernye/Pyke/Thresh/Kalista/Yone is necrophilia1111!!1!!”, and I’m more than sure these people are the first who fall in love with a vampire. If I receive any anon asks about this stuff in which there’s written I cannot ship her with anyone or other offensive things toward me or my muse (both ic and ooc), I’ll ignore and permablock them. No matter who’s the person who sent this. Again: I’m sick and tired of this stuff because basically there’s no problem in shipping with a psycho who can basically kill/abuse you any moment, meanwhile, GOD FORBID a revenant/vampire and stuff like that. So, better safe than sorry. If this bothers you so much you can unfollow me.

Respect my right to say “NO” if I don’t want to ship with your muse. So, don’t force it or I’ll block you.;

About the Mun:

You can call me Silkie, and I’m 25 years old;

Discord for mutuals only;

Pronouns: she/her (They/Them is also fine, if you feel more comfortable with it, no worries);

Chickens, cats, chinchillas, and Castlevania addicted;

I consider myself as a friendly person, so if you wanna know me or rp with me just send me a message! I suffer from diagnosed GAD and depression, so I really need time to open up to people and my activity may be sporadic because of this. And, please: if I make/say something that makes you feel uncomfortable TELL ME ANYTIME since I never mean to hurt anyone here through my words or acts;

Remember Muse ≠ Mun. Ernye’s actions don’t reflect my personality, or what I think about you;

Please DON’T FLIRT WITH ME, it makes me extremely anxious and uncomfortable due to many awful experiences I had in the past, and also because rp is a hobby and I want to have fun, and I’m not looking for a romantic partner. If you ignore my warnings I’ll permablock you. And yes, this also applies to every NSFW question about me. If you dare to do so you’ll get immediately reported, permablocked and the whole chatlog saved. I will also NOT tolerate any kind of NSFW anon ask about me.

The cringy art you see on my profile is made by me unless stated otherwise. Constructive criticism and bits of advice are more than welcome and encouraged ♥

[ If you have read my rules send me “Has the killing moon come for them?” That’s optional, of course, you don’t have to send it to me!]

#mobile friendly rules #the sun is rising (ooc) #oh boy i’m moonstruck again (spamalot) #when I'll make a decent promo post about my blog I'll use this post!

[heartfullyferal]

Hi nervous shy anon here. Do you rp with other fandoms? Also how old do you have to be to do a normal rp with you?

Hi nervous shy anon, I’m A Person : D

I rp with like 78747847853282378485457829874324y738 fandoms, Lizzy is malleable as f u c k bitch we can shove that bitch anywhere and MAKE IT WORK. On the moon, in a cult, another dimension- it’s fine.

Age?? When it’s not a smut I guess there isn’t technically a limit- but I prefer if people are over 18. I’m 21, its just a comfort thing. 

💋

#Anonymous

[dishonoredrpg]

Congratulations, TARYN! You’ve been accepted for the role of THE MOON with the faceclaim of FRIDA GUSTAVSSON. In spite of a few understandable bumps in the road, you really blew me away with Maiden! The Moon is a very understated character, to me, in that their subtleties and smaller notes are what really make them interesting. You took them in a direction I wasn’t expecting, but I enjoyed the ride nevertheless -- I also enjoyed the ups-and-downs of the plots quite a lot, and how you tied everything together with a nice little bow in regards to her interest in botany and the past which she is still trying to uncover. Altogether, this was a delight to read, and I can’t wait for Maiden to grace the dash!

Please review the CHECKLIST and send your blog in within 24 hours.

OOC NAME: Taryn PRONOUNS: She/her AGE: 21+ TIMEZONE, ACTIVITY LEVEL: PST & currently I’m stuck at home and rarely allowed to leave the house because I’m immunocompromised… bleh. In a week or so I’ll be considered okay to rejoin people, and then I’ll be on the job hunt - which I only mention because it may change my activity ability once that’s happening! I also do help out behind the scenes at another roleplay, so some creative juice goes there. Overall, ideally I’m at least online everyday to chat, plot, or post a reply. Some days the ole mental health needs me to stay off screens for a bit or just says You Aren’t Writing Today, but I’d say it’s been a while since I’ve gone more than 3 days without posting on an rp account, so whatever that translates to -- 7/10, maybe? ANYTHING ELSE?: Other than what I already messaged you about (and thank you again for your understanding!!), I just want to say I interpreted things a little differently than the recent skeleton edit/your anon answers imply -- I thought her magic manifested at thirteen with the instance of Moon freezing her mother’s arm, meaning her mother knew from that early age that Moon had powers, and only told Moon to leave when the rumours spread. I think that switches up the dynamic you might have imagined, but hopefully you still like it! I was also a little confused as to whether or not the Moon’s mother ever instructed her in the work she does -- because there is the “All she ever does in return is chuckle and pat you on the head, but you figure that she’ll tell you one day.” line, but it seems that’s when she’s younger, and I figured if she’s working as a botanist at the castle she must have been lessoned in the stuff to some degree. So there is mention of her mother teaching her botany in her history, but it’s not an ~important detail at all and could literally just straight up be removed from the bio without issue. Can you tell I’m anxious and need to over-clarify everything? Lmao. Anyway, thanks again Julie!! IN CHARACTER SKELETON: The Moon NAME: Maiden Mallorian / “Triss” I don’t largely go into naming conventions but I think there’s some worth in discussing it here! The use of Maiden as a given name is meant to embody an Otherness by using a commonly-used noun in place of a traditional name (... though I guess all names are nouns too… anyway), as well as a mystique. EG: If every young, unmarried woman is a maiden, then who is the girl we call Maiden? Is she all of those young women, or none of them - is she a person, or a concept? Can a woman even have an identity with a moniker shared by so many -- a similar question to can a girl have a sense of self if she is raised in isolation, if her teachers are not people but the meadows, the crows and the heaths and the moors? There’s also certainly the archetype of The Maiden in literature, particularly in relation to the trio of Maiden / Mother / Crone. Beyond her mother embracing this triumvirate of feminine archetypes and deliberately naming her after as much, there’s just that very literal interpretation - I’ve named her after the maiden archetype, pure and simple. Her mother is, clearly, the mother, and I see the High Priestess rounding out that divine feminine trio as the crone -- the most aged of all, the closest to death, and the bearer of the most knowledge. Furthermore you have the scrubbing of this name and the replacement of it with Triss -- a simple, short nickname that bares no importance or meaning, and instead effectively erases the things that made her unique. Maiden tends to forget or, at least, forgo introducing herself with the alias both because she dislikes and genuinely forgets to use it -- so you may have a smattering of people who know her in-character as Triss, but to those that she knows better and/or takes a liking to immediately, they’ll know her as Maiden. Which, if I’m continuing to be a little extra with the name analysis, is also a good representation of her duality/contradiction -- two names, two selves, two parts to the moon (glowing at night; invisible by day-hours), the illusion/deception part of the moon tarot, and all that jazz.   FACECLAIM: (1) Frida Gustavsson (2) Ashley Moore AGE: Twenty-five DETAILS: So, full disclosure, I’ve said it a dozen times to a dozen different people but I had the hardest time deciding on a character -- I was literally stuck between five or six skeletons until like 48 hours before the submit closed. They were as varied as The Moon to Temperance to even the dark horse of The Hermit plowing its way through my heart, and what attracted me to that array of characters on the whole was just the ability to see a story in them. I could find in each of them a distinct past and complex future, but the Moon ended up pulling ahead as I started to collect inspiration and jot down notes -- it was Maiden’s story that wouldn’t leave me alone. And I will go into an attempt to tell you why below, but realistically that’s almost the best reason I could give you -- because they won’t unstick from your shoulder or let you reach for someone else. They demand to be spoken for. Truthfully, I love tales of daughters and their mothers. I love the narrative passed between them, how one can be an extension of the other -- I love a retelling of an immaculate conception where the magic is found in the mother, not an absent-holy father (even if said immaculate conception is just myth, because who says a story isn’t as important as a truth). I love women and their stories, and how no girl is ever so far from being a witch -- basically, I adore that Girl Magic, so it was her background that appealed to me first. Because while we’re talking about Girl Magic, there’s such a potential for that with The Moon. I saw her at the crux of an eccentric mage and a clumsy apprentice, possibly hovering in the middle because she has no instructor, only herself -- so she is forced to experiment and create and learn all at once. I also love archetypes of wild women, though that doesn’t have to mean the ones that run with wolves -- sometimes it means the ones who sleep next to them. I’m very drawn to stories of the Others, the ones a half-step from society, who hold something unusual and distinctly enchanted about them -- and Maiden, whose magic has manifested in a way that may prove unique to all humanity, certainly has that Otherness going for her. Women in real life (and in fiction) are so often grouped into homogenous categories or expectations that being able to write one who not only defies societal conventions, but exists outside them entirely, and with contradictions inside her -- phew. That’s some shit I can fall in love with. I do find it difficult to dissect and lay out who Maiden is so plainly -- to me, that’s like writing an analysis on a novel I haven’t finished yet. I can’t separate her bones for you yet on the table because I’m still unrolling them from the skin myself, measuring out the angles of her joints, sizing up her feet, etc. But I like that I know this muse is going to unravel for me with time, despite how much I already have done -- that’s actually a very important note to me in a character, feeling that there is still progress to be made as both myself and the muse go through the roleplay together. Though, that being said, I also don’t remember the last time I’ve been able to create such a long-term character arc from the get-go -- which is super exciting, tbh, and yet another reason I got drawn into the Moon’s lunar pull over the others. Got me out here feeling like I could write a novel 😭 BACKGROUND: let us begin, as all stories do - and as they must - at the beginning. to be fair and honest, as stories never are, we must admit that this is not quite the true beginning. that beginning, in this case and all others, would mean the black-star start of the world (or in the very least, if we are to cheat just slightly, the origins of magic - but i digress), when everything came from nothing and nothing meant everything. but for both your time and mine, we will skip past the first red, slashed dawn of the world, and even beyond the fantastic sky-breaking initiation that brought magic, though they did not come all that far apart, as you may think. i also feel that it is my duty to you, dear reader, to state my bias. that is all. i state it. i type it in bold letters, black like stones from the bottom of a cold ocean and just as cold. it has been relayed, and i have done what is necessary. i have no obligation to further explain to you what it may be, or to who i am favored or embittered - indeed, i staunchly oppose such action, as you yourself must have an active part in this tale, a responsibility to seek out what is truth and what is exaggeration - and there is no point in asking. but don’t read too much into this. all this facetious, drawn-out text is only a disclosure. this is a story, real as your whale-blubber bones, and i am not lying about any of it. all i mean to say is this: it is a sign both of humanity and of narration that we should always, must always, pick a side. it is simply necessary, just as it is necessary to remember this when one is the listener. never believe a narrator who does not disclose themselves upon the opening of a story, and never trust one that calls themselves impartial. they are lying. it is only natural to crave loveliness, or wickedness, or both, and it can only be expected that a tongue slants and bends to accommodate such reactions of the heart. there is no story that is all truth. there is only love and the words we create to try and express it; never quite accurate, never quite enough, like a burr soaked in honey and left on your tongue. stinging and sweet, but no matter how you try, you cannot spit it out. (remember, look closely, but not too hard). this is our story. i leave it in your mouth. there are three things in succession: a bargain, a girl, and magic. the order of these both matters and does not. it does not matter because all these things are one and the same in the end. it does matter for reasons that will become apparent shortly. there is, as many tales go, an unhappy woman (why it is never a man that is so morose and dissatisfied with life in these stories, we shall leave for the scholars to explain). she lives in a stretch of land where few who are not seeking her come, and spends her days shucking the cures and harms out of flowers and counting the wolves that pass by her road. the first bargain, by all accounts, happens some time ago, before we begin the meat of our tale: the woman lives simply but she lives alone, and for that fact alone she is considered both strange and in necessary want of a companion, for it is a truth universally acknowledged that even a peculiar woman is in want of a husband. yet no sojourner or knight come to her door seeking remedy is invited to stay longer, no boots left at her doorstep despite the impressive if not daunting presence of her beauty, and in the absence of romance the people in the farmlands grow restless, then talkative. what does a woman want beside a mate, they wonder? particularly when she is young, and beautiful, and alone, they add, because in these stories and every one that will be told thereafter until my throat is split in a great red grin, that is all that matters to an active audience. a child, they murmur finally. it must be a child. there are varying accounts of what happens next, but let me give you the gristle: a swell comes to the solitary woman’s belly, and in more moons, so comes a daughter. no one remembers when she is born, and it is something of a wonderment that she exists at all; far and wide she is eyed thrice-over by all those who see her babe form swaddled in her mother’s arms, wondering over which crib she has been snatched from. the farm-folk in the nearby flatlands believe that she was not stolen or bred but placed, a changeling offered to her mother in exchange for a bargain made with the undying god, or conjured up by spell and pure maternal desire alone (for you were a fool if you believed these simple folk saw a woman, young and beautiful and alone and with her fingers in the dirt, and never called her witch). others still swear the child came from the unfolded petals of a white flower, her minute form bundled up where the pollen was meant to be. whether this gossip speaks to the audacity of the men in the telling of the lie or the stupidity of the listener for believing something so unnatural, i will let you decide. or perhaps you believe in magic. do you? i digress. so as you are learning, the first bargain is both unimportant and not. completely individual and irrevocably part of a far larger, grander whole, indistinguishable from the rest. but next comes the girl, as i promised. and she is very, very important. she is our story. she is her mother’s in full, because blood and magick are one and the same, and the farmers are right in this alone: her mother loves her as meat loves salt, as lions love flesh and blood and not cabbages, and there is no unnatural thing in this world she would not do to make her borne. she loves her from dusk to dawn and dirt to moon, and so she gives her a name stitched with irony so that the fates will not sew it into her bones: maiden. a thing from every story, a girl on every street. she names her after a concept so that she will always be real, made of life. so that the tales whose paths she walks will not decide for her. mother and maiden live in the little cottage in the wide grasslands between wicked wood and dry cropland, and in the nothingness they have everything they need. mother hunts for their supper and teaches maiden to carry a bow when it is time, and more importantly how to give thanks to the beasts they carve up on the wooden table. they collect logs for fires and till the gardens by hand, taking from the earth all that they need and never - as mother instructs - a drop more. they play games of knots and crosses in the dirt and maiden makes dramas with the figures mother whittles, and to give you the very best truth of all, they want for very little that they do not have. she learns how to be a raven (observing), a fox (clever), a rabbit (swift), a riddle (everything all at once, and only sometimes a girl) from mother and the animals both, and she walks about the meadows barefoot and learns from the trees and birds, loves them the way she never loves people only because she has not had the chance. mothers and fauna are all well and good to take lessons from, but they do make a strange girl. she tells her secrets to the bees and watches the far-off puffs of smoke from the farmlands, pretending they are streams from a dragon’s nostrils and not the warmth of a hearth with children her age sitting next to it so that she does not feel sorry for herself. to her, there are but two people: her mother, and the people she trades with. it is not so bad; they are both very good at being alone, and the people of the nearest town are even better at reminding them to stay that way. when they blow into the hamlet on the western breeze maiden makes games of hanging off porches and climbing things that should never be touched, and she laughs so freely all the other children cannot help but come out from their hiding places and join her until their fathers call them back in. not with her, they say. not that one. — but o, how sweet and precocious a child she is when the visitors come, wrists knotted behind her back and eyes tied forward as she questions their intentions and demands, as if in secondary payment, life stories as recompense for mother’s skills. how you would have loved her, i tell you, that girl with her flaxen hair and moon-eyes, tugging on sleeves and walking the verbal-stride of a child who never learned how to shrink herself — how i love her even now! and if i must tell you something else: magic is rarely courteous, and almost never consolatory. when it arrives, no matter how many pieces of furniture i have shifted in my heart to make way for a girl called maiden, it comes with no such open space in its pit. where i have crafted an open sitting parlour it has bedroom sets and wicker fruit baskets and even a few grand lamps (never mind the fact that lamps do not yet exist; in the cavity of magic, there are always lamps), and so when it arrives she feels the weight of all these things dropped upon her head. and mother, who does so well at holding her silence it resembles a newborn babe swathed in cloth, still grips the quiet as carefully as church glass - even with one arm in disuse. you know by now, of course, what has happened. it is no secret to you or i what occurred that day, as some pieces of stories swell until they brush up against the audience independent of the narrative altogether. the effect was grand even if the moment was not, for unfortunately sometimes even the greatest plot devices happen when the writer is sleeping and cannot pause to fancy it all up. one moment a hand is merely a hand passing twine and foxglove, the next it has frozen in place. it might have been a lovely image under any other circumstance: the look of a pale, slim arm grasping a hanging purple head of flowers beneath thick, glittering ice like a delicately painted carving in a snowglobe. But indeed, how the image shook them instead of the other way around. in an effort to distract her, mother peels open the earth’s secrets at the seam and lets her peek into the sticky, moist centers and slurp the knowledge for herself. she shows her how to unfold plant-magic on the large wood table and lessons her on how to use it kindly in poultices and elixirs and bunches of dried ravensmaw. she learns what is used for fresh wounds and the herbs best combined to stave off heartbreak, and they are more similar than you think. but things are, distinctly, never the same: in a house that has only ever had two voices, there arrives a great sweeping of silence. mother is far-away in a place of wondering, the spot where mothers are ought to go when considering how best to protect their child. maiden too spends time in that same seat questioning who it is that has made her and why they stole from two separate bowls of clay, though the pair never seem to sit down and share a table in that place in peace. life goes on this way, i am loathe to report, until it gets worse. there is an awful quiet that does not leave that house, suspended between the unasked questions of what to do and what am i? maiden is kept from leaving the cabin or its surrounding pasture in ever-climbing extents until she is nought but bound to them, and mother makes the trips to the farmlands for supplies alone and ushers her out of the room when clients arrive. so, here she is in full, with flaxen hair and a moon hidden underneath her tongue: clever and strange, curious and lovely, tall and just a little too spindly-boned. a raven, a fox, a rabbit, a riddle, and sometimes a girl. magic bound in bones. a shut-in who never had reason to grow a heart, but did anyway, and now she is left to the lonesome. truly, can we blame her for what she did next, for answering the door all those moons later simply because someone knocked, and letting them in without checking if their teeth were bicuspids or fangs? can we fault that lonely creature for believing she could help, and fixing the tonic herself rather than waiting for mother, as instructed? can we accuse her for what came next, the slimmest moment of ice crystals skittering across a workbench, cold little diamonds that another less-shrewd eye might have ignored, but this one picked out? and what of the day the child got lost with a thorn in its foot, how she snuck from the cabin and cooed for them till it was yanked free, the simple smoothing of her thumb over the sole leaving it smooth as milk — i ask you that, in true: what crimes would you charge her with? do you blame the tiger for its hunting? it is only following nature, after all. or do you cast your stones on the people who threw nets through the trees and called it protection, expecting not to bleed. one cannot take in a wolf and expect it to never look back at the forest, no matter how well fed it is kept. like a flower cannot choose its colour, we cannot help what we become. she could not help what she did. it was only in her nature. so like rain, like a black cloud, like bad omens, the rumours come for the maiden, the one in the meadow, the one in the little wooden hut with the strange-beautiful-alone mother. daughter is even worse than the mother, they say. i heard it was ice — no, wind — nay, she is vitalus too — they build and rise until mother-maiden can hear the gossip in the air, having travelled by raven-feather and west-wind. of course none of it is the truth, for she bares a reality that no one yet knows — something hidden away like an egg inside an egg at the deepest part of the world — but it does not matter. audiences do not look for fact, they clutch only to wickedness or sweetness, as i have already told you. mother grows panicked with hydrangeas of fear spouting out of her ears, demanding a flight to be taken, and daughter lies awake at night wondering how to do so without wings — questioning how it has come to pass that she knows the roots and berries and grass, but not the woods or how to survive in them. you know, still, what happens next. there is another knock at the door, and despite lessons learned, the maiden answers the call: and this time it is death standing there waiting. they come to an agreement. sometimes death, too, is kind. history peeks its lazy, pinned-down eyes around the corner when the maiden of this story leaves her little hovel, fingers made of revolutions and religions clinging tightly to the doorframe to watch her go. the journey is perilous and full of dark places and occasional humour, if you are interested in that kind of adventure. i will tell it another time, when the back of my tongue has been given rest. i wish i could tell you, dear reader, which sort of story this will be: drama or comedy, mask one or mask two. but i don’t know yet. we will find out together, which makes us accomplices, you and i - like colleagues. two thieves after the same jewel. i have told her story because i love her, this much you know to be true by now, because we do not let the ones we love tell war stories. which is, in essence, what every story we can ever tell is: a battle of wits, or a conflict of hearts, or the combat of self against self. there is always a fight against something. it’s the nature of humanity, to push and poke and burn. —- – and now you see what i meant at the beginning of this tale: bargain. girl. magic. all of it comes in that necessary order and none at all. bargain. it arrives first, before her birth, a rumour; at the same time, it is the last twist, the thing that brings her to this castle. girl. she is born; she exists. magic. her blood, her marrow; a complexity of sparks and hope. a beginning, a middle, an end. a circle. a moon. PLOT IDEAS: These are laid out in a potential arc/chronological order of when I see them happening, but with the exception of a few, almost any combination could work! I. SHUCKED FROM PETALS. I’d like to grow Maiden’s role as a botanist -- both in terms of having her interest in botany itself swell, and also expand this into something of an inventor or potioner function. While she’s currently making strange concoctions at the King’s request, as an inherently curious woman I see these demands as something that will spark interest in her to create on her own. While in her youth she quizzed her mother on the applications of leaves and stems, now that she has no mentor for the process, she can only question and find answers by working through the hypotheses and methods herself. II. ON THE BASIS OF MORALITY. I see very strongly Maiden descending further into the plot to assassinate Septimus and joining the group of revolters in a more tangible way. Her ability to fight and knowledge of courtly life are both lacking, but she offers a unique vantage point of visiting all manner of individuals with the perfect excuse -- their health. As she becomes more decidedly entangled in the rebellion efforts and subsequently offers up her services to them, she begins to craft salves and potions with hidden effects, used in application against those they stand against (a poultice made with an herb that lends to truth when tending to someone with information / a drought with added pollen so that a guard may sleep through their shift that night, etc). Less fleshed out, but still worth noting: if the laced salves and elixirs are a no-go, she could slide into something of a spy/informant role fairly easy. Again, she has easy access to any array of people as the castle, and can come and go from different bedsides silently -- listening in on conversations all the while. III. FASTER THAN MINE ARROW. At the behest of the revolution -- where intentions ring with righteousness yet impact may be less virtuous -- I see Maiden encouraged to embrace her Inferni powers by rebel cohorts. While it’s not a path I see her arriving at and walking on her own, as she entrenches herself in the ideals and plots of the revolution, it would still be a willingly-made choice -- albeit perhaps still a reluctant one. She far prefers to heal than harm, but as the plot to kill Septimus ripens, she would accept the notion that an offensive skill gained by her becomes a shield and sword to the cause. I interpret this as less of an embrace of violence and more an eventual acceptance of her magic in all its parts; Maiden removing her gloves and making attempts at practicing Inferni magic brings with it an acknowledgement that not only are these powers part of her but they are hers alone to control. If she can develop some mastery over them, she can use them as she sees morally right, rather than their use dictated to her by others (so she believes). I want to see her not think of her magic as an intrusion and a mystery, but rather some native at the pit of her -- like stone in a fruit. As long as it is there, one could not bite straight through her. Sub-bullet because it’s not a huge thing, but I’d love a moment where she’s practicing with the ice in the greenhouse and loses control, subsequently destroying much of the flora in there beyond salvation -- cue a sobbing Maiden. Also! Would love to use this as an excuse for the Hierophant to become a sort-of mentor for her -- a dynamic she would undoubtedly seek out and beg for if the time came. IV. WHERE TRUTHS CONFLICT. As clearly as I envision Maiden’s loyalties knotting tighter to the revolutionaries, I don’t believe her resolution is iron in every aspect. While she may agree that King Septimus needs to be removed, deciding which successor she wishes to support would be far harder. This plot could be as simple as indecision and uncertainty on Maiden’s part, or could be as complex as a more nefarious individual taking advantage of her courtly ignorance and indecisiveness by manipulating her into backing their pick for future ruler. V. THE CURE & THE RUIN. Working intimately with anything lends to cross-contamination -- including poisonous plants. My thoughts on this fork a few different ways here, albeit my personal fave is the first bullet: Through her own misinformation or inexperience, Maiden accidentally begins to poison herself through prolonged exposure to toxic flora and their materials. Seeing as she’s in the greenhouse for hours at a time nearly every day, this would lend to a good, steady incline of symptoms -- paranoia, delusion, hallucinations, etc until they potentially culminate in a kind of temporary “madness.” An individual or party on the loyalist side discovers what she is doing for the revolters, and applies the same concept -- a slow poisoning, made to look accidental by exposure to the wrong flower. This may be less likely as it might be implausible for another character to have a knowledge of botany that surpasses her own and plant something toxic in the Greenhouse without Maiden realizing, but I’m totally open to it! Similar to the last, rather than a loyalist poisoning Maiden, they find a way to access her stash of concoctions and alter them so that they harm rather than heal those she is working with. Could be particularly dramatic if she is working long-term on a member of royalty or influential revolution member -- ie. something like visiting them daily to apply salve on a new wound that needs consistent tending. VI. WHAT ARE YOU, SWEET CREATURE? Maiden’s dual powers are bound to come into public knowledge eventually, and I think there’s the opportunity for some terror and delight there. I’ve been ruminating a lot on what the hybrid of her Inferni and Vitalus powers mean -- An Inferni rarely lives past thirty, and Maiden is already twenty-five. I’ve been imagining that she has not seen or felt the costs of her power like other Inferni due to the innate nature to heal, which is undoubtedly something other Inferni would desire. Whether Maiden willingly lays herself down to experimentation in the name of aiding the Hierophant or she’s literally captured by Septimus and crew for a less careful kind of research -- I’d love to see her secret blown up and her safety compromised as a result. VII. IT HURTS TO BECOME. I have little octopus tentacles coming out of this plot because I can see multiple variations on the same idea, so -- As inspired by the “Vitalis magic often manifests itself in nobility” line from the magic page, Maiden is discovered as the descendent of a noble bloodline. This could mean her father was the bearer of a title, or that even in a Mother Gothel-esque fashion her mother took her from a family in the desire to have her own child (though I favour the former). This is less about an advancement in her social standing/hierarchy and more about playing further with the themes of birth and identity. Particularly as an individual that isn’t well-matched to courtly manner and expectations, what would it be to disturb her peculiar existence further and force her into a lifestyle she has no interest in? How does it detract from her purpose and goals? Her mother is found out as someone who previously stayed at the Temple of the Undying and departed in some form of scandal known to the High Priestess. I think this would be particularly impactful if her mother’s time there overlapped directly with the High Priestess, and their relationship marked by some form of betrayal on her mother’s end. This would make her mother a necromancer, a fact that if going from this route was certainly kept from Maiden, or we could work with the concept that perhaps she was merely an emissary there. This bullet is less formed as it would require plotting with at least one other player, but essentially it boils down to braiding the High Priestess into her backstory (or, at least, the Temple of the Undying) -- a completion of the maiden/mother/crone build, if you will. Realistically, the above could be combined -- her mother has a past tied to both the Temple of the Undying, and her father is of noble descent. Lastly, this idea could also be twisted into a falsehood/manipulation of someone from Septimus/the Loyalist side -- she does not have noble blood and/or her mother’s past is made up, but they have fed her this story(s)  in an attempt to distract/derail her from her purpose, or otherwise sway her onto the side of the Crown. VIII. THE MAIDEN IN THE TOWER. I see very clearly what Maiden could be in years time -- in the same way the King has the Tower, or perhaps even The High Priestess, I envision the capacity for Maiden to become an advisor in the arcane arts to the future ruler. This is very epilogue-esque content, the resolution to a tale long told, something far-off and subject to change depending on how the roleplay unfolds -- but if I was planning her arc from where I stand now, that would be the resolution. A femme!Merlin now in tune with her magicks, a strange figure forever working away in her greenhouse-laboratory in the highest room in the tallest tower, descending to the court only to offer counsel and smile at a few bugs… art. And maybe, just maybe, there’s even a bard out there singing about a strange moon-touched woman and her magic, who came from the Farmlands and ended up in a castle. That, I think, would make an awfully good story. CHARACTER DEATH: I’m definitely not opposed to it! If you see a plotline where her death makes sense I’m open to at least having the discussion -- it would probably depend how I’m feeling about her character development, as I do see quite clearly how far Maiden could develop with extensive, long-term rping (the Merlin-esque shit) and it’d be super cool to get there. WRITING SAMPLE SAMPLE #01. TWENTY-FIVE. CASTLE TYRHOLM, THE GREENHOUSE. Based on headcanons found in the extra section! it is the damnable wine she calls to blame for her recession from the great hall. yet still unused to its potency, it turns her stomach and her mind with it, until she is unbalanced and sure a marble placed upon the centre of her would roll only to one side, lolling comically behind her left ear. maiden swears she can hears it as she takes her leave from the night’s feast, a hideous clacking circling around her skull as she takes the steps to the greenhouse. the sound was a well accompaniment to the noise of heart against rib, that lub lub that reminisced so closely to collection of stones in a velvet satchel. how is that for an appraisal, she thinks. an inferni and a vitalus yet, and yet you cannot even hold your liquor. down below, music begins. septimus is performing one of his many wonders, conjuring up new entertainments like a foreigner’s god and his labours – things meant to fell mortal men in their spectacle. the sound, though muffled by stone, is light and deceptive with a beat kept by tambourine and wound through with panpipes. it crashes and crawls as a serpent through brush, dragging its body across the span of men’s shoulders and up the marble spires until it reaches the slender ankles of maiden high above, who slips from the darling (albeit pinching) satin slippers borrowed from the magician. o, that that song had teeth. it would sink them pit-deep into that lovely, exposed ankle. the footfalls that emerge from the far entrance are remote in distance, yet the cadence of it -- quick and spry, in the pattern of a courtly dance -- are close and recognized by ear in an instant. “your skill is in the making of noise, bard. so i would suggest --” she calls to armel with a bland hum, bent over a troop of growing windflowers as she cuts the largest at the stalk, her sharp fingernail used in place of scissors. “leaving behind these foolhardy attempts to remove sound from your being altogether.” maiden looks up then to the musician’s hiding place, half-covered as he is by bushes camellias and hanging vines. the look given beneath her brows is chiding, but it is a reproach with a single candle lit within, a glance perhaps warmed by liquor despite its meaning. “how do you always do that?” he asks, and maiden decides there is something rather feline about him as he emerges from the brush, shoulders rolling with that mandolin hoisted over one. “i didn’t say a word.” “you do not need to. your stroll speaks for you.” the air is moon-hot and the music swells below them, rising like tide to their knees, now their hips. her voice is cut-rope, one end loose in the water, and maiden lets the tide of the pull her, only one end remaining on shore. “asides…” she sighs, “you limp on the left.” “i do not.” “indeed you do. like a horse with a lame leg.” it is a full-force lie, dropped into a casket of wine and pulled out stinking, and armel catches her half-crescent smile at the same moment he spots her bare feet. “i suppose you won’t be returning to the ball, then.” maiden turns and takes to walking the length of the greenery. her back turns to him, but not unkindly; instead her slow, graceful gait seems an invitation to join, though he does not follow. she listens to armel as she winds through the tall grass, eyes upon the stalks, searching for anything that might catch her eye. in the moonlight she is all silhouette and odd-shapes, ever and always a little too-tall, a little too sharp-boned at the joints. but when she moves like this, slow and easily-flooded as moonlight itself, one could forget all that. “dancing slippers are quite unsuitably named,” she says by way of answer as the bard begins an absent strum on his instrument. “they give me no motivation at all to partake in such merriment.” armel does not answer, instead quite pensively continuing to pluck at notes while looking at the near distance -- assumedly undergoing great internal debate as to whether or not he was, truly, a lame horse. “a peace —” she slides the long stem of a gore-red windflower behind his ear when next she passes, as natural a move as though it were but tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear. maiden smiles. “you actually limp on the right.” //

SAMPLE #02. AGE FIFTEEN. A MOMENT OF WEAKNESS & A DESPERATE ATTEMPT. Fire, it would seem, had ceased to be a friend to her. As a girl she had delighted in it, waving her hands above it, warming herself on it, staring at every passing wooden cart laden with people in the chance that one of them could be a fire-eater. Ice, that thing that ate and yawned across lakes and thatched roofs as if it remembered it had once devoured the world, was far more cruel in Maiden’s opinion. Could I not, at least, have had that which heats and provides sustenance? And more than even these sweet instances from childhood, she knew of fire intimately as an adult. It was a different kind of flame that brewed in her than what ran free in the wild; it was less violent and more warm, meant for thawing out the cold hands of children or creating delightful ever-shifting silhouettes on walls. She walked alone because she liked it, and spoke to strangers for great lengths of time because it excited her. That was her kind of fire, and so Maiden - it could be said - was as much flame as anyone, even as she chilled the air around her with her very presence. That was why, as she sat on her knees before the great outstretching flames of the parlour’s hearth, she had no caution as she threw paper into its guts. “Enough of this!” The girl was alone, but spoke aloud: it was part of her charm. Like a girl in a folktale who was subjected to life in a tower, she existed brightly when on her own because she knew no other way. The Mallorian girl did not need the accompaniment of another to prove her own worth. The fire sputtered charmingly in response, engorging itself as it swallowed paper and turned it into little pieces of nothingness. “No more curses, no more ice or damned magic!” Her hand shakes, but her heart holds its breath and remains steady. Stained at the tips with ash and melted ink, Maiden sits back on her thighs with a great tremble and stares into the flames before she falls to the pose of prayer. “Undying God, harbinger of all things, if this is your doing, let it be undone. I have wronged you not at all, nor my mother; I am not your child. Please.” Her ears burned pink with fear for addressing a deity with the same volume she would have a man standing before her, but it was too early to stop now. She pauses momentarily, straining to listen for a rumbling voice come from within the fire or swung in on the wind and branches. There is nothing but the crackle of pop of breaking wood. “Then -- then if it is the household spirits come for me, unhappy gnomes with rumbling tummies ‘for we have not been feeding them, emerge now! Or call it all off! Call it off, I say, spirits - take this magic from me so I may live in peace!” Again, she waits. And perhaps, if you would hold your hands over the ears of your heart and allow this young woman to admit it, she might have told you that she truly expected a troll-like little fellow with a green cap and scowling mug to emerge from beneath the ottoman. But there still is nothing, not even the tap of impatient little feet from behind the curtains, and her brows furrow as she stares into the hot gold and rose colours of the fire. Maiden sighs, a heavy breath that drops out of her mouth and rolls into the soot of the hearth. She suddenly feels much too old for these follies. Looking over at the pile of hastily-written spells and official decrees of intent (from Maiden to the Undying God, officially) to rid herself of this curse, the wheat-and-snow coloured girl pauses (and it pains me to say it, dearest reader, but the truth of the matter is that in the light of this blaze, she very much resembles the beautiful women you read about who either have very tragic ends or very wonderful ones in tales you all know). She had burned not even half yet, each one a representation of a day that had been ruined by questions or cold or mother’s worry, and there were still more to go. But no sign of the Undying in her great black steed, or impish house elves crawling out from the cracks beneath the woods. For a moment, she considers stopping. She considers picking up the remainder of the letters, tying them up with some of mother’s twine, and returning them to their proper drawer in the study. But as her hand hovers of the papyrus, her heart protests and causes her to pause. She is, after all, no girl in the tower. She will not sit in anybody’s stomach and wait for the woodsman. And if, in the odd and unusual chance that this circumstance of odd and unusual proportions is caused by something otherworldly, Maiden Mallorian shall not bow to it. No, no bowing indeed. “Now listen here --” Her voice raises, grows taller and older. It might be imagination, but the fire seems to as well. “Whether you be Undying God or lowly household gnome, I shall have no more of this. Do you understand? Are you listening, creatures?” There is nothing so impressive as unafraid, youthful folly. “I shall not be carried away to a cold temple to be a child of misery, and will not let this magic ruin me if you shall not bring me answers. If one of you are indeed responsible for this, it ends now. I am Maiden Mallorian, daughter of Yareli; and a right all in my own!” The sweet curves of her breasts rise and fall like toppling empires as she throws the remainder of the pages into the fire, staring fiercely into the contents as if to decipher an answer in their ash. There is a sudden seizure in her instead, a tight and pressing thing foreign to her soft-spun body. It demands something of her, as intent as fingers pressing into her ribs. She picks up the letter opener at her side, brought from the study to slide open old envelopes, but now she raises it to her chin and cuts in one fell swoop. It does not happen with ease, but off comes a handful of her hair. The edges of her locks are jagged, but the pieces in her palm look like fine oat straw that glitter in the light. She throws that, too, into the pile, and does not realize it has chilled. “There.” She speaks. It is solid and sure and sane. “There is my tribute.” Magic cannot be made by offering someone else’s liver. You must tear out your own and never expect to get it back. “Please... take it away.” Her voice, once grand and ringing of dynasties past, now calms. She begins to sound once more like only a girl of this century. “I am… Maiden Mallorian… and I do not wish to live a life of unhappiness.” The strength that once held her shoulders aloft departs in a gentle breath, leaving her soft to touch -- quivering. “If you shall not take this from me... I will make my own way, no matter who has done this -- be it God or beast or some creature in between --” She stands, in possession of some quiet power. “One day I will find my truth. And then I will know a free heart at last.” She leaves before the paper and hair have all disappeared, trusting the fire -- that once-longtime friend, that formerly beloved and willingly indentured servant -- to do as it is meant to. As the cold evening wages on the flame starts to die, and, left unattended, everything turns to ash. All that is left in the hearth of the Mallorian home is the same colour: black. But it is not a frightening colour if you look closely. It seems, perhaps, the ink in this story is drying. It is time for a new chapter.

EXTRAS A NOTE ON ~MAGICK: I just wanted to state that while I loved imbuing her story/personality with themes of oddity and enchantment, I don’t expect any of these things to be real. Her biography was supposed to be an exaggerated verbal retelling, and in example: the rumour that Maiden’s birth was the result of not a normal conception but pure willpower and magic is just that -- hearsay crafted by unnerved townsfolk trying to justify a strange, unmarried woman in the woods and her peculiar daughter. I’m also not sure what balance you’re looking to strike between realism and fantasy, so if things like her pet owl are too much the former -- no problem!! I could definitely tone down anything you think is too out there! PINTEREST: here. MUSE TAG: here. CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS BIG AND SMALL!: Kayley (Quest for Camelot), Garrett (Quest for Camelot), Phoebe Buffay (Friends), Amalthea (The Last Unicorn), Rapunzel (Tangled), Merlin (The Sword in the Stone), Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Taran (The Black Cauldron), Eilonwy (The Black Cauldron), Katrina van Tassel (Sleepy Hollow (1999)), Nimue/Lady of the Lake (Arthurian mythology), Honey Lemon (Big Hero 6), Vasya Petrovna (The Bear and the Nightingale by Katherine Arden), Kida (Atlantis: The Lost Empire), The Mage (King Arthur: Legend of the Sword), Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter), Thumbelina (fairytale), Circe (Circe by Madeline Miller), Yvaine (Stardust) HEADCANONS: She has a mild form of associative prosopagnosia, a type of facial blindness. While Maiden can distinguish faces from one another, it’s essentially difficult for her to recognize those she’s newly met or has not known (and subsequently seen) for a certain amount of time. As her youth in the woods meant infrequent visits from varying strangers and acquaintances, Maiden learned from a very young age to identify those she met with other signifiers -- the pitch of their voice, their cadence, the pattern of their boots on her mother’s shop’s creaky wood floor -- and she has become exceptional at it. While she may struggle to associate new faces with names, if she has heard your voice or the template of your gait, it is likely she can recognize you from the sound of these alone in the next room. Contingent on the above, I like to picture a longstanding game between Armel and Maiden with him attempting to sneak up on her, trying to outdo her hearing abilities only to be smoothly called out each time -- like the first twenty seconds of this scene from Tarzan. -- And obviously this was inspo for one of my writing samples! Major sweet tooth, and most likely has a standing relationship with The Hanged Man who provides her with desserts in exchange for tonics or pouches of seasoning curated from Maiden’s personal collection up in the greenhouse. Alternatively, she’s The Hanged Man’s personal Garfield, constantly being chased out of the kitchen before she can stick a finger in icing or steal a hot bun. Another Armel headcanon because I’m a sucker for a Found Sibling dynamic: Maiden has been teasing him for ages with the concept of knowing (and withholding) an Epic Folksong that her mother taught her and that would be just perfect for him to perform. There’s every likelihood that there is no song and she’s made it up to amuse herself, but every once and a while she hums a foreign tune or drops a few words from the “lyrics” to keep him interested. If it is a real song, bonus points if she’s making Armel do little chores etc to earn another piece of the song. Subject to plotting with Death’s player, I imagine her nickname/alias Triss was borne from a singular moment where they introduced her to someone within the castle upon arrival -- only to bluster that she used that strange name, Maiden, which confused the third party. Death makes a quick save by adding that “she means only that she is a maiden from the Farmlands,” and creating the assumed name on the spot, forcing Maiden to adopt it. Both due to falling asleep atop a text after extensive nights reading and researching and the comfort of being around plants, Maiden often sleeps in the greenhouse -- in fact, she prefers it to the cramped quarters she’s been given, and keeps a spare blanket there at all times. In the greenhouse has also come into residence a fat, one-eyed grey cat who she has named Augrunn, known affectionately (or otherwise) Auggie. Grumpy and demanding, Maiden found him taking shelter in the greenhouse on a particularly rainy day, and though he comes and goes as he pleases, it’s now effectively his home. Auggie is known to both yowl for personal space if you’re too close and swipe if you stop petting him too early. Similarly, Maiden has an owl-friend whose name I haven’t decided on, but the front-runner is currently Archimedes. Unbothered by Augrunn’s attempts to snatch him out of the air, he’s a chill little feather-loaf that watches the comings and goings of the greenhouse from the carved wood perch she has made him. He is aware of the location of Maiden’s sleeping quarters, and can occasionally be found sitting on her windowsill when she’s there. She bruises very easily, even in circumstances unrelated to use of her Inferni magic -- just as likely to get a mark from walking into a corner as she is to scar from the use of her ice powers. Insects don’t bother her in the slightest. Growing up in a small home filled with plants, there were always bugs crawling around the flora, and Maiden appreciates them all. She will 100% pick up the scary spider you’re flinching from and make sure they get back to their web. Prefers to be barefoot, and likely does not share the same feelings of taboo around exposed skin as most others -- to her, flesh is only flesh, and a very natural thing at that. Temperature is a funny thing for her -- given that she seems to emanate a kind of cold, I think it stands to reason that she doesn’t easily chill, but that it is also hard to heat her up. I picture it like a normal hand held above a flame, then one stuck in the snow -- it’s going to take longer for her to melt before she feels any pain from the fire. CONNECTIONS: *Obligatory these are just ideas and I’m totally open when it comes time to plotting with these players! THE HIEROPHANT: Chihiro and Haku vibes (that sort-of-romance entirely unnecessary, though I would be down for Maiden to have a little crush), basically. Give me a Maiden as impressed by their showy nature as their inner fire to overthrow Septimus -- an Inferni mentor, even, or just an individual that helps guide her through the dangers of Tyrholm’s court. Also… ice and fire... I meant to do more but ran out of time rip

#accepted #accepted: the moon

[placesyoucallhome]

Allyria ‘Salt’ Myzarian

The Basics ––– –

Age: A few centuries, seems to appear to be 40-50 by hyur standards

Birthday: 22nd Sun of the 3rd Umbral moon

Race: Viera

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Bisexual, female leaning

Marital Status: Single

Server: Mateus

Physical Appearance ––– –

Hair: A light, greying lavender

Eyes: A bright, sparkling gold

Height: 6'

Build: Soft and curvy, a life of library and office work hasn’t left room for much tone

Distinguishing Marks: Seems to show age a tad more than other viera or even other Sharlayan scholars with crows feet and greying strands of hair

Common Accessories: Wine bottle, book, reading glasses

Personal ––– –

Profession: Master Librarian for Sharlayan, with a focus on historical texts

Hobbies: Drinking wine, reading, collecting books, scribing first hand experiences and memories of people, plays a psaltery

Languages: Common, able to read if not conversational in most other languages

Residence: Sharlayn

Birthplace: The Wood

Religion: The Twelve

Patron Deity: Thaliak

Fears: Being alone, getting information wrong, getting sick again

Relationships ––– -

Spouse: None

Children: None

Parents: She’s never met them

Siblings: Unsure

Other Relatives: Most likely, but she doesn’t know them

Pets: None

Traits ––– -

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious / In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between /  Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader / In Between / Follower

Empathetic / In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––– –

Smoking Habit: Not really Drugs: No Alcohol: If it’s wine, then yes

RP Hooks ––– –

Sharlayan Librarian- Finally head of her department, after decades, nearly centuries, of being passed by for other more conservative candidates, Salt is the Master of her library. Being around for centuries though, many other Sharlayans would know of her at least in passing during studies. Or at least as ‘that odd bunny woman in the stacks’.

Scholarly Pilgrimage- As one of few that can say she saw both the inception and fall of the Sharlayan colony of Idylleshire, she still counts it as a grave mistake to leave so much wasted knowledge and progress behind to rot and wither. She means to reclaim what she can, though she knows she cannot do it without help. She was granted some funds to hire bodyguards and support, but frankly, not very much. She does perhaps lean on her merchant friend to cover other costs a bit too much.

Orphan of the Wood- Though Salt readily admits she is from the Wood, she remembers none of it. Taken into the halls of the Sharlayan medical school as a sickly infant, she grew up primarily around hyur and elezen. She is cautiously curious about other viera and her birth country, but is unsure how much she wishes to know.

Wine Enthusiast- When not reading, writing, or researching, Salt is likely drinking, and she can’t resist a good wine. Though she favors the sweeter wines like chardonnay and moscato, she’s made it a hobby to try as many different kinds as she can while out in the wider world. She’s particularly interested in trying Hingan rice wines.

Weak Constitution- Salt was given to the Sharlayan medical school as an infant, on the grounds that she likely would not have survived otherwise. While she recovered as a child, her immune system was permanently weakened. She can get sick quite easily, and when she does it’s usually grave. A friendly doctor in Eorzea that she can turn to would ease the minds of her and her friends.

Contact Information  ––– –

OOC: Yo kiddos, I’m Ruhka, or Q, hell call me Salt or Places if you want, I don’t care! I’m primarily a paragraph rper that likes to match, and that’s still attempting to get into game rping, I might be a little slow to respond in game is all. I’m well and truly old enough to drink and I’d far prefer it if my partners were 21+ as well, and have a sporadically busy office job. I’m willing to do some mature topics, and plenty of dark topics, but erp is a no go right off the bat. But if it makes sense for the characters and I’m comfortable with your writing style that can change.

Contact: Feel free to poke or message me here, or send Salt random starters or questions (my anon is on)! If somehow you see me in game, toss me a whisper, or just /slap me, either works! If you’d rather my discord I can give that as well. 

@ffxiv-crystal-rp​ @mooglemeet​ @crystalxivrp​ 

Tagged Posts

#Salt Myzarian #ff14 rp #ffxiv rp #ff14 #crystal rp #Salty bunny is like 0% msq right now #ingame rp will be more difficult #but I seem to prefer discord rp anyways