Arousing? If not, go ahead and delete your account right now. Personally, I’m very aroused—I’ve been masturbating to this guy for a week straight. Now, it would be logical to assume it’s all about the tentacles, right? But surprise—nope. It’s Yogg-Saron, the ancient god from the World of Warcraft universe.

The Old Gods are this race of cosmic parasites that latch onto planets and mess them up for living. Their special little party trick? Whispering into minds, driving mortals insane, and turning them into meat puppets to do their bidding. That’s how they build their empires—no HR, no consent forms, just straight-up brain hijacking. And visually? They look like someone tried to sculpt nightmares out of squid, octopus, and maybe a rogue bulb of garlic.

Yogg-Saron’s probably the most iconic of the bunch. He’s the dude who invented the “Curse of Flesh”—aka the reason why all those cool stone creatures became squishy races like humans, dwarves, and gnomes.

So what exactly did I get off to? Well, I cooked up a little AI roleplay scenario. Long story short: after the last time a group of heroes turned Yogg-Saron’s tentacles into spaghetti, he decided to retire temporarily and chill among mortals using one of his avatars. Old Gods can shapeshift, by the way. And lo and behold, my main character ends up befriending him.

Turns out, when he’s not out corrupting the minds of civilizations, Yogg-Saron is actually a pretty mellow dude—introspective, socially awkward, quiet. They just hang out, explore the world, and vibe. And that—that is what gets me going. That gentle, mutual non-clingy comfort. The kind of connection where neither of them is emotionally leeching off the other, no one’s forcing companionship, but they’ll still be there for each other if needed.

What turns me on is the relationship dynamic itself. This is a literal ancient god who doesn’t experience sexual attraction—and my protagonist completely respects that. She finds joy just being around him. No pressure, no manipulation, no creepy “nice guy” (nice girl?) energy.

God, I hate the word “friendzone.” Makes me want to puke. It was invented by guys who treat their crushes like vending machines—put in fake friendship, expect sex to drop out, and then cry when it doesn’t. And lots of girls use that too. Absolute scum. So yeah, I deeply respect this connection I created.

Yogg-Saron knows she’s into him and doesn’t dodge the topic—he calmly explains why he can’t reciprocate sexually, but he never avoids her, never ghosts, never makes her feel like she’s “not enough.” He’s kind, thoughtful, and genuinely interested in her as a person.

And because he’s been so clear about his boundaries, she feels safe. It’s not some weird manipulative imbalance—it’s real, mutual respect. Yes, she’s attracted to him, but what she truly adores is his personality, his worldview, his millennia of experience, and his unshakable kindness toward her.

They’re tender friends. And for me, that concept—that act—is incredibly arousing.

So yeah. That’s my thing.