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qingxin-dream · 9 months

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“Righteousness”

summary | in another timeline, kunikuzushi never redeemed himself. he took interest in a different kind of heart—not the Gnosis, not a Vision—but yours. (art credits: @/Shiqaruki on twitter).

warnings | lore, kidnapping, kuni calls you ‘little songbird,’ profanity, brief mention of physical abuse, manipulation, praise & degradation, pining, obsessive/possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader (wears a dress & lingerie), dominant kuni, choking, yandere jealousy, murder/arson threats, worship, slapping, finger-fucking, mirror sex, kuni receives oral, deepthroating, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, mention of breeding

genre | yandere, smut with plot, canon-divergent

word count | 4.5k

pairing | kunikuzushi/scaramouche x reader

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In a time all but forgotten, a young boy sat on his knees, caressing a hand-sewn doll in his palms and looking up with childlike compassion to his companion.

“There once was a puppet solider whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever,” he began, his eyes reflecting the scene of his storytelling imagination.

He gently squeezed the doll in his hands, as if to comfort his companion before the truth spills from his lips. “But the solider didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feelings came from.”

“One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina,” he continued with a more somber tone, drawing attention to the gut-wrenching ending of a tragic romance.

However, his voice shifted, offering soft words of wisdom and hope to his distraught friend. “The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

Instinctively, the beautiful puppet sitting before the young boy curled his lip in disdain. “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart… but that’s not a real heart.”

He could hear the affectionate smile pulling at the corners of the young boy’s mouth. “Maybe, but what if… hearts can be born from ashes?”

“What a joke. It’s just ashes,” the lonesome puppet can barely conjure up a breath in his agony. “Nothing left but ashes.”

As his chest twisted and clenched with the wretched filth of so-called human emotion, the divine puppet came to a profound realization. His body merely served as a hollow shell, cursed by the ghost of mortal weakness—a living testament to the depths of an Archon’s visceral mourning.

In his naïveté, he had trusted the boy he thought to be his friend. He had believed that silly little fairytale, that maybe he wasn’t as empty and worthless as he felt. There was no heart to be found in the cold vessel of a failed god.

Kunikuzushi would have to claim one for himself.

Sin.

The ultimate temptress of mortals. The manifestation of human greed and desire. That which demands repentance and atonement for fear of eternal damnation. It is hinged on the human condition that death is inevitable.

Mortals are easily persuaded by morals and ideology if it means life after death in a paradise that is not guaranteed. Humans create false narratives to exercise the sick satisfaction of controlling one other. When all is said and done, the real struggle is for power—namely the power to control fate itself.

For those who are destined to roam the world with no such motives, imprisoned in an earthly purgatory, sin and salvation are laughable notions.

There is no reason to live, for you cannot die; Sin knows no bounds and comes with no price.

“The sooner you accept this, the better,” Kunikuzushi laments, his face just inches from yours. The bewitching twinkle in his lavender irises has remained all these centuries, a cruel illusion masking the abyss beneath. “Nothing you say will change my decision.”

You were really quite the picture, if he was being honest, all tied up for him. Kunikuzushi loathed that just the sight of you was enough to make the void in his chest cavity ache with longing. A reminder of his imperfection.

Anyone else would have died a violent death for such a transgression. But you presented a unique opportunity.

“Kuni, please,” you whimpered, your pleas falling on deaf ears. On the contrary, he loves hearing your voice, especially when you beg so earnestly. “I-I don’t know what I did wrong… I’m scared. Please, let me go…”

The puppet hushes you lovingly, his lips brushing against your delicate skin toward your ear. “Hey, now. There’s no need for that. You’re safe with me, little songbird.”

You flinch, gasping and recoiling in fear, turning your head away defiantly. It’s not like you could push him away, your little limbs bound to a tall column in the kitchen nice and tight. Hot tears pricked at your eyes. It burns like hell.

“Untie me, Kuni!” you shrieked, squirming and struggling against the binds to no avail.

He snatches your face firmly between his thumb and two fingers, squishing your cheeks to the point you felt pressure on your skull. “Ungrateful slut. Didn’t I explain this to you already? Your heart beats for me from this day forward.”

Frozen in shock, your body stiffens involuntarily as fear floods your veins, rendering you utterly helpless. Even as he gazed upon you with an icy, detached stare, you couldn’t find it within yourself to fault Kuni for this act of desperation. He could never make sense of himself and the pain that came with betrayal after betrayal.

Why even try to embrace humanity if it would mercilessly punish you for not having a heart?

You still remember the day you found him, it was but a coincidence you both crossed paths. Kuni was a wandering traveler, or at least that’s how he introduced himself. He seemed kind enough. You were particularly taken by his appearance, so lovely it was almost inhuman.

It just so happened that you were willing to offer him a place to stay. It took a bit of convincing on your part, actually, but you were worried about the string of murders near your village recently. Someone must have had an insatiable vendetta against the blade-smithing arts, striking them down one by one.

A small knowing smile pulled at his lips, his eyes creasing slightly with amusement as he marveled at how you opened yourself up so easily. This was the first time he had talked to a human in who knows how long. Perhaps since the young boy’s passing many dreadful seasons ago.

Kuni found the void in his chest persuading him to entertain his curiosity about you.

He had to admit, once you both got to know each other, it was quite the impeccable arrangement. During the day, you provided the kind of mundane tranquility and domesticity he had always dreamed of. Thankfully, your residence was in a rural part of the countryside, which offered much appreciated security and seclusion from the world.

Once you were safely tucked into bed and sound asleep, he would lie restlessly in the guest room. Puppets have no need for sleep. On some lonely moonlit nights, he would entertain his own fantasies of you. In the absence of such desires, he was compelled to satisfy his blood thirst.

Though Kuni had long forsaken the human emotions that afflicted his existence with disappointment and abandonment, his burgeoning relationship with you had quickly proven to be the last remaining vestige of his innocent supplication for a purpose.

In fact, he demanded it, after witnessing you day in and day out slipping from his grasp. He was growing impatient, waiting for something more. You had always stopped short of taking a little leap of faith to hold his hand or kiss his forehead, leaving him yearning for your touch and attention. Why?

Even in your presence, he was not alleviated of his turmoil. A number of possibilities plagued him. Were you dissuaded by his artificial constitution? Did he make a fatal miscalculation? God forbid, was there someone else?

No matter how many times he twisted, folded, and bent reality in his mind, trying to make sense of you, he never came to an agreeable conclusion. By the time Kuni realized just how deep you had nestled yourself into the empty husk of his heart, it was too late for the both of you.

All of this mental anguish and pining was unbearable. Unacceptable. He loved you, yes, but needed you more.

The puppet’s chest fluttered as you willingly complied, tears staining your cheeks, but that’s okay. His soft pink lips brushed against your cheek once more, kissing away your precious tears. It was his first taste of you.

Kuni cradled you in his palms like a delicate doll, his thumbs ghosting your cheeks. He leaned in closer, indigo bangs tickling your face and his mouth parted with a breathless question. “Is your heart… truly mine?”

He had broken you, and you had no choice but to nod slowly.

“Say it for me, little songbird,” he encourages you with a warm intonation. His eyes were trained on your lips.

“I-I’m yours,” you replied weakly.

No sooner than you could speak were his plush lips pressed to yours, a breathy hum of relief exhaling through his nose. In turn, you muffled a whimper, overwhelmed by the sensation. He had untied you, knowing you couldn’t hurt him but he could certainly hurt you.

Kuni was gentle at first, relishing in his first kiss with you. He carefully took your wrists to guide your hands to his body, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you against him. Still, you trembled in his grasp.

“There’s no need to fear,” he whispers between kisses, holding your face to his. “I will take care of you.”

He can’t bear to leave your lips. Guiding you towards him, he leans against the kitchen counter and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. A small prayer barely escapes his lips. “(Y/N), hold me… touch me… please.”

“Kuni,” you choke out, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. You are silenced with increasingly fervent kisses, one of his hands trailing down to your neck just by his fingertips, giving you goosebumps in the wake of his featherlight touch.

“You are going to give yourself to me. Your heart is my heart, and I will not have you hiding any part of yourself from me,” his voice grows a bit more insistent, closing his fingers around your throat as a threat, but not yet squeezing. “Do you understand?”

You give a feeble nod, unable to look at him directly. Every time your gaze locked with his, it sent a pang of terror jolting through your fragile body. He brings you closer by your neck, kissing you with more confidence than before. There is a little part of you that is worried you are unable to discern fear from excitement.

The puppet lets his hand slip further, fingertips finding the contour of your chest. He hesitates briefly, then allows his palm to feel your plump breast. The act was enough to elicit a little whine from you, and he knew right then and there that he had to hear it again.

“Do you… have any inclination of how long I waited for you?” he whispers hotly onto your lips, feeling down your waist at an excruciatingly slow pace. He smoothed each wrinkle of your dress with his thumb, tracing the silhouette of your figure down until he felt the hem of your underwear through the thin fabric. His breath caught.

You were still not as receptive to his advances as he would like, and suddenly he scoops you up to hook your legs around his hips, pressing your back against the nearest wall in the hallway. Kuni was beginning to reveal his desperation for you in more ways than one, breathing a little heavier. He was determined to have you submit to him and if you weren’t responsive to his soft side, then so be it.

“Answer me,” Kuni lowers his voice with a commanding edge, his lips just inches from your neck while his messy indigo bangs tickled your jaw. You whimpered, involuntarily moving your hips against him at the mere thought of his mouth on you.

At long last, you found your voice—delicate and decadent with a tinge of spine-prickling anticipation. Perhaps you had lost part of yourself, your humanity, in him too. “H-how long, Kuni?”

You shivered slightly, feeling his mouth spread into a satisfied smile against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice deepens further, sultry and needy, “Lifetimes… I’ve been so goddamn purposeless for too many fucking lifetimes, just waiting for you.”

Without warning, the touch-starved puppet sunk his teeth into the crevice of your shoulder at the base of your throat, sucking at the weak spot to bruise the skin with his mark. A surprised yelp fell from your mouth, and you so nicely turned your head to offer him more. He clutched your curves tightly, as if he was secretly wishing your bodies would just melt into each other.

Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum…

Your precious heartbeat echoed through his chambers of his chest. Kuni craved that little pulse of yours, chasing it up your neck in heated, sloppy kisses. All the while, you encouraged him with sweet little sounds of pleasure, softly asking for more under your breath.

“It’s mine,” he reiterated, perhaps to help immortalize the sensation against his lips. With a faint growl and yet another love bite, he added, “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

If only he could be bothered to pull back and catch a glimpse of how the puppet had unraveled you beyond recognition, equally as intoxicated by the heat of the moment. No matter. He will have his fill of you in due time.

“Y-yours, mhmm,” you capture his wet lips halfway, experimentally swirling your tongue with his passionately. You were clinging onto his shoulders, entangling your fingers in the soft ends of his pretty hair resting on the back of his neck.

With a faint moan against your mouth, Kuni lifted you once more by slipping his hands under your dress to feel his digits press into the soft flesh of your ass. It was light work to carry you, giving him the opportunity to squeeze and smack your ass with a smirk.

Slipping into your bedroom, he set you down and turned you around by your hips so that you were facing the tall mirror just a few feet away from the mattress. He leans over your shoulder from behind and you blush heavily at the image reflected by the mirror. Both of his beautiful hands traveled up your body simultaneously, one feeling your stomach, ribs, breast, and resting around the bottom of your throat.

The other, however, caught the frilly ends of your dress, sliding it up your skin at a painstakingly slow rate. Kuni’s violet irises shimmered with obsessive desire, admiring every inch of your body that was exposed to him. He bunches the dress in his fist as he raises it above your hips, revealing the most angelic lacy undergarments accented with cute little ballerina pink ribbons. Kuni chuckled, his breath tickling your neck.

“Do me a favor, darling,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. He takes his time to unveil your breasts, each one perfectly shaped with lovely nipples begging to be pinched. “Open your mouth.”

You comply, watching yourself in the mirror with curious fascination, before Kuni stuffs the thin, light fabric of your dress into your mouth. He nibbles your ear playfully. “Hold that for me.”

His eyes marvel at your body. If you told him you were a goddess, he would believe you without hesitation. Divine or not, the puppet was hell-bent on worshipping you like he had been dreaming of. Kuni played with the intricate lace of your snow white lingerie, his thumb brushing your pelvis teasingly.

Instead, he takes two fingers and caresses your folds outside of the undergarment, pleased to feel your panties dampened with excitement. You quiver at the touch, moaning faintly. Kuni is enthralled by the sweet noise, taking the tiny lingerie by his thumbs and sweeping it down your pretty legs.

He immediately sits down on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling you into his lap and spreading your legs apart with his knees. There it was in the mirror. Your glistening flower framed with the loveliest soft petals.

Kuni couldn’t possibly restrain himself when you were presented so exquisitely, wasting no time to slide his fingers over your pussy. You groaned in pleasure, muffled by the dress in your mouth, relaxing against his chest as the puppet focused on rubbing circles around your clit. He kissed your neck and shoulders endlessly, admiring your reactions in the mirror and whispering lowly, “So good for me. So, so good for me, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

Your thighs trembled. You desperately wanted to close your legs as his movements became faster on your clit, the stimulation swiftly overcoming you. Breathy moans soon evolved into incoherent pleas. Kuni held you steadfast with his legs, keeping you spread all nice, admiring how you twitched beneath him.

“What did I tell you?” his tone is one of warning, groping your right breast and littering your skin with a few more marks. “There are consequences to hiding yourself from me.”

The puppet suddenly swipes his middle finger over your leaking hole—causing you to moan lewdly—before slapping your pussy. It was a light but firm slap, sending an addicting concoction of both pain and pleasure through you.

After a brief moment, he returns to your folds to trace and admire it, then continuing his ministrations on your clit. Occasionally Kuni would let a finger slip to tease your entrance, finding that it drove you crazy.

“P-please, please, Kuni,” your words quivered like your body, bending easily to the pleasure he was so kindly bestowing you. It had to have been the hundredth small cry for relief tumbling from your throat, you were on the precipice of your climax. “I-I need it. Something, anything… fuck me.”

“You better not cum on my fingers,” the puppet orders, gathering your slick and gently inserting two fingers into your warm walls. You whined in frustrated pleasure as he stretched you slightly, pumping his digits in and out of you barely an inch but keeping you stuffed.

“I c-can’t, I’m…” you babble. Kuni knew you were on the brink already, but he wanted to at least try to prepare you for his cock. He suddenly pulls his fingers out, and with it escapes your climax. Tears were almost pricking your eyes. You could definitely feel them beneath the surface.

He slaps your pussy again as punishment for not listening to his commands. “Greedy sluts are not rewarded.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble and he grunts, pushing you off of him and to your knees in front of the bed. Kuni makes quick work of his clothes, tossing his shirt aside and pulling his pants down enough to spring his throbbing cock free. You had certainly felt his hard length while you were in his lap, but seeing it rendered you speechless.

No different from the rest of the puppet’s beautiful body, Kuni’s cock was perfect. A few veins wrapped around his hard member, bulging under the flesh. Towards the tip, it was gradually flushed pink with hot need, a pearl of precum on his slit. You took him in your hand, butterflies swarming your stomach with the realization that he had more girth than you expected.

Kuni grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face toward his cock with a simple demand. “Suck.”

You experimentally drag your tongue underneath his cock, licking your lips, and working your mouth on his tip to lubricate him first. Kuni’s eyes roll in the back of his head, resting one hand behind him on the bed as he moans deeply. “Fuck, (Y/N)…”

The sensation of you smiling with his cock in your mouth sent warmth through him. You eagerly fit more of him in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue just the way he likes it when you received praise. Yet, Kuni needed more.

“You can do better than that,” he scoffed.

His grip on your hair tightened, pushing your throat completely down on his cock just to feel it once. The puppet twitched in your throat, letting out a seductive growl of pleasure. You gagged slightly, before pulling back with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You coughed a little, but he cupped your chin and wiped it from your mouth sweetly.

“That’s my girl,” Kuni coos, guiding you up on the bed next to him and pushing you down onto your back. As much as he’d love to see you taking him in your mouth all evening, he had a prize more tantalizing waiting for him. Clothes on the floor, moonlight pouring over you both, the puppet vowed to never forget how you mewled as he dragged the pulsing tip of his cock along your wet folds.

Gasping, you achingly bucked your hips in tandem, utterly drunk on the delicious sensation of his thick length parting your pussy lips. You loved to be teased, that much was for sure and Kuni ate it up—the desperate crinkle of your brow in pleasure and how your breath became short.

He presses his tip at your warm hole, but never pushes it in.

You groan dramatically, sweat already forming on your forehead and you haven’t even began. Every bit of pressure he applies has you smitten, imagining the moment he finally fills you. “K-Kuni…”

The smug puppet smirks down at you knowingly, grinding his cock against you repeatedly, rubbing your clit just right. “Yes, my little songbird? Have something to say?”

Before you can speak, he kisses you to muffle your answer. You grow even more impatient, using your legs to keep his hips locked close to yours. Kuni peppers your jawline and neck with kisses and little playful licks of his tongue. “I’m listening.”

“Please,” you beg.

Kuni’s tone is unreadable. “Please what? Use your words.”

You give him a flustered look of desperation and he pins your hands on either side of your head, interlacing your fingers with his. You reply, biting your lower lip, “Fuck m-me, Kuni.”

A smile graces his face and his eyes soften, thumbs caressing your hand comfortingly to brace you for his length. “Is this… your first time, (Y/N)?”

Though you were a shy and kindhearted person, he should’ve known from the way you deepthroated his cock earlier that it wasn’t your first. He wasn’t your first. That means someone else was. Someone else defiled you.

Kuni’s electric purple eyes darkened like an impending storm as you shook your head.

“Indulge me,” the puppet asks. “What other men have been in my position?”

You are not in the right state of mind, still insatiably yearning for your climax and grinding your wet folds on his length. However, Kuni doesn’t accept your nonsensical mumblings and half-answers. His hands tighten around yours, pushing his cock into you with a guttural moan inch by inch until he bottoms out completely.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sputter out, sighing in sweet relief and a bit of pain. Your pussy is filled to the brim with his cock, stretching you out good. You try to turn your head away and close your eyes, but Kuni refuses to let you.

“That’s right,” Kuni’s voice is nothing short of alluring in the most raw way possible. “Treat me like your god and fucking look at me while you take my cock.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t also utterly euphoric as he sinks his large member into your tight walls. Gritting his teeth, he’s taken aback by how you squeeze him unknowingly, even your subconscious is unable to deny the pleasure he’s giving you. It took you a few seconds to adjust to his girth, your eyes drifting down his muscular chest and toned abdomen in admiration.

With the first drag of his cock out of you to his tip, hushed hum of pleasures are murmured by each of you, until he buries himself all the way back into you. Kuni continues in this rhythm with a few thrusts, unable to his stifle his own moans. He was no better, his climax already building within.

Pulling back, the puppet releases your hands to push your legs against your chest by your thighs to get just the right angle and perfect view of your folds. He hovers above you, fucking just his hot bulbous tip into your needy hole. In mere seconds, you cursed to yourself at how good it felt when he brushed against your sensitive entrance.

Your clit pulsated for attention. How could he not press his palm onto your pelvis and drag his thumb across the slightly swollen bud? His half-thrusts became shakier as you unexpectedly tightened around his cock—moans freely and loudly erupting from your throat. The feeling was beyond exhilarating and convinced him to push you to your limits.

“You think I’m going to let any other man put his hands on you like this?” Kuni sneers with jealous envy reflecting in his irises. “I’ll fucking snap his neck. I’d kill him.”

Impulsively, the obsessed puppet roughly plunges his entire cock into your soft pussy. He relishes in your loud moan of shock at the pleasure and slight discomfort in splitting you wide open. His cock pushes against that wonderful spot deep inside you, incredibly sensitive after all his torturous teasing. You were seeing more than stars.

“I bet they couldn’t fuck you like I can,” he scoffs, possessively pulling your closer by your legs and holding your ankles on his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly. “Make you scream like I can. And—nghh—breed you.”

You were finer than a work of art, truly, in all your fucked-out glory as you chase your high on his thick cock. His thumb flitting over your clit messily, primal groans of bliss echoing throughout the bedroom at every divine flutter of your pussy milking his cock so well. Your words were simply unintelligible, mumbling breathy prayers wishing for his seed.

“No one can take you away from me,” Kuni himself is beginning to tremble with pleasure, but nevertheless he keeps up his brutal pace. Every crevice of your walls and your womb will know his essence. “You’re mine, and I’ll burn the whole damn world for you if that’s what it takes.”

In a rush of jealous envy at the mere thought of losing you, the puppet abruptly pushes your legs back onto your beautiful breasts by his chest. The erotic melody of your fluids coating the base of his cock and v-line with every sloppy thrust pushes you both over the edge of an impossible free fall of euphoria.

“Cum on me, (Y/N). C’mon, cum all over my fucking cock,” Kuni demands with salacious desperation, pounding into you again and again until you’ve ridden out every second of your climax. The sensation is indescribable as he swears he could feel your rapid heartbeat through your walls—your heartbeat in his hands like he’s the supreme god of your body.

And as such, he blesses you with ropes of hot cum to drown your pussy in his everlasting love. Kuni collapses and cradles you, wiping the tears of pleasure from your sweet, angelic cheeks.

Righteousness means nothing to gods, for whom salvation is too late and sin knows no price.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

#IDK WHERE 4.5K CAME FROM I JUST REALLY LIKE SCARA OKAY😩💜#[opulent dreams].✿#[dreams of delusion].✿#genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin fatui #genshin scaramouche #genshin kunikuzushi #genshin wanderer #scaramouche x reader #kunikuzushi x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche smut

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ghostbite0 · 2 months

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regarding the whole 21 trio turned baby thing....

feel free to ask about this concept im so invested. i need to draw like 20+ things. "ghostbite stop making aus with the hashira being turned into kids." no they are severely traumatized and deserve to have fun and cope every once in a while. its cute. my art my rules

more info under the cut...

giyuu is so over this whole situation and just wants to sleep it off. he cooperates but very reluctantly. when hes all baby mode hes a curious little guy. the other hashira see his smile and they all lose their minds. despite this shinobu and tengen tease him constantly. i imagine hes rlly similar to how he was as a kid where hes more reserved and smiley and everyone thinks its super sweet. he's the easiest to take care of by a long shot

sanemi is angry and hates the world and is constantly smacking whoever will scoop him up. he loves to pull on people's hair and is regularly being lectured. then of course you have people teasing him like aww is the little guy fussy (this immediately results in sanemi unleashign hell)... when hes baby mode hes the happiest little thing and he drools everywhere. he is only nice to genya when hes in baby mode otherwise hes just screaming bloody murder and trying to rip off all his hair

as for obanai hes shy and embarrassed about the whole thing. he has mittens on 24/7 and is almost always wrapped up in a blanket bc he needs the warmth. timid and at war with his demons. if he doesnt have a pacifier he has his little tongue sticking out and if this is pointed out to him he will shrivel up and die. when hes baby mode hes the sweetest little thing and it confuses everyone bc arent u supposed to be like the meanest person in the world. hes the smallest of the three so everyone pays closer attention to him to ensure hes eating and he doesnt get sick bc his little immune system just cant handle it. mitsuri absolutely adores him and muichiro has claimed him as his baby brother and if you try to take obanai away from him he will bite you

also shoutout to my bud @photographicapparitions this whole au is based on a concept we have talked abt & they characterized baby mode giyuu and i was a coward and scared of posting things but they have been endlessly suportive.... go send them some love

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m0nsterqzzz · 2 months

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Capture the Flag

pairing: clarisse la rue x child of apollo!reader

summary: you hate capture the flag, and clarisse hates people hurting you. that's that.

warnings: kidnapping? *done by a bunch of demigod teenagers for the simple outcome of winning a game* mentions of murder because what is a clarisse fic without it? swearing? kinda oc clarisse just because I can't write anything else without turning it into enemies to lovers

a/n: she is my love. clarisse defender for life.

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Clarisse La Rue.

The name sparks fear in many people at Camp Half Blood. Kids cower when she’s near, or run away when she walks towards them. It makes her happy, having people fear her. She thrives off of it, being a daughter of Ares; the god of war.

But too you? The name brings warmth, comfort, and love. It’s very rare her wrath has ever been directed towards you, and the few times it has been was when she didn’t know you. When you were just another camper to her.

It only took a few days at camp for you to be claimed by your father, Apollo.

It made sense really, your bubbly and energetic personality was so similar to your fathers and his demi god childrens. You moved into cabin seven with your small backpack of beloved items from your past, picking the bed in the corner farthest away from the few other children of Apollo and spending most of your time in that spot if you weren't at arts and crafts or archery. Not many people cared about you at first, not that you mind while you were trying to process all that happened for you to finally get to this wilderness home. Then you tried to make some friends, which ended with you mostly spending your days with your siblings or the children of Hermes and the campers who lived in that cabin without being claimed.

Then, you met your girlfriend. The love of your life. You're everything. Clarisse.

She had protected you during a game of capture the flag, not realizing that your “attacker” was one of your best friends who simply held his sword up to you in a playful way. You teased her for weeks after that, giving her the title, “my protector”. Although the teasing eventually stopped, the nickname never did.

You’re her sunshine. That’s clear to everyone in camp, but nobody really talks about it for fear of being hurt by her spear.

Capture the flag is one of her favorite days out of the week. Other than every Tuesday when Chiron lets you eat dinner at her table- an agreement that came after a very long week of begging of course. That was his compromise to your ask of being able to spend every night at that table, and Clarisse wasn’t going to push it despite liking the first idea more.

It became a lot harder to win said game when she started dating you, team red losing one of their best fighters when she would leave her post by the flag to roam the forest and make sure you are okay. It just makes you laugh when she stops kissing you up against a tree to suddenly run back to her post when she remembers the main task at hand, but her siblings and team would definitely disagree that it's funny.

Today's no different, and after threatening her teammate with her spear, she leaves her post to find you with the peace of mind that they’ll protect the flag and won’t tell on her to the other players on team red.

You on the other hand, you have your headphones in, music blasting in them as you dance through the forest and around the trees. Capture the flag has never really been as important to you as your teammates on the blue team, and both Annabeth and Luke eventually learned to give you a simple task and let you do your own thing.

The nymph's join along in your activities every once in a while, but for the most part they just stay in their tree form as you dance past them.

You’re in your own world with your favorite song playing on your wired headphones that stay connected to the ipod in your hand that your girlfriend gifted to you after she came home from a quest a few months ago. It’s only when someone hits your helmet-covered head with the butt of their sword so hard you pass out that you realize you wandered into the red team's territory.

Waking up, the first thing you notice is the harsh light of the sun glaring down at you. Then it’s the rough feeling of wood on your back and the tight pull of rope on your stomach when you try and fail to stand up from your sitting poston. Your stomach churns as you realize what kind of situation you're in; no help, in a vulnerable position, and no weapon. Lastly, you groan when you realize that your headphones have been taken out of your ears and are laying in a tangled pile a few feet away along with your ipod.

After a few seconds, your vision clears up and the two blobs of color that you saw in front of you turn out to be two people. They’re clearing down at you from their standing positions, one with a sword out and the other holding a dagger.

“Good morning sunshine.” You cringe at the nickname that comes from one of the boys you now recognize from the Aphrodite cabin. It’s the one that your girlfriend uses for you.

Children of Aphrodite may be well known for her being the goddess of love, and all things pink and pretty, but sometimes people forget she is also a goddess of war. Her demigod children are sweet and nice, but it’s no big surprise why Clarisse likes having them on her team when you see their fighting abilities when they actually try.

“What do you want with me?” You question harshly, trying but eventually giving up on trying to force the ropes to untie by moving your body around. You’re tied to a thin tree, thin enough for your arms to reach behind you and wrap around it- it's kind of like your giving the tree a backwards hug with your hands tied together around it- but not thin enough to break when you push you back up against it to test the theory on if you can snap it.

They look at eachother and chuckle, putting their weapons away when they realize you can’t get out of your ties. One you recognize as Oliver steps closer to you as he says, “Annabeth and Luke care about you so much, the moment they realize that you’re missing, they’ll forget all about the flag and Clarisse can go get it.”

You stare at them blankly for a few seconds before you burst out laughing. They glance at each other before narrowing their eyes at you.

“What are you laughing at sunshine?” You finish laughing when the ropes pull on your stomach way too tightly with the way your body shakes with the laughter. “You ummm…” You start, taking a deep breath when you find yourself beginning to giggle again. “You thought the most amazing plan…was to lead my overprotective friends and girlfriend…the girl who carries a spear with her everywhere she goes and hurts anyone who looks at her wrong mind you…to the spot where she’ll find her partner tied up to a tree in a clearing where no one is around to stop her from killing you guys?”

They stare at you with a sudden look of fear in their eyes before they walk a few yards away to begin whispering to each other, the confidence from earlier gone and rethinking their plan after you brought the obvious ending to your attention.

“Hey guys?!” You shout out, smiling when they turn around for a second to face you. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell Clarisse not to kill you! She usually listens to me because the last time she killed someone, I didn’t cuddle her for a week!” Their eyes widen at your casualness, as if her killing someone is completely normal in your world before turning back around so you can’t see them panicking. It doesn’t matter though, the way they move their hands erratically and have to take deep breaths from raising their voices in fear is enough knowledge.

They come back a few minutes later, the fear still there as they stand in front of you. You don’t ask what plan they’ve come up with now, and they don’t tell you.

You guys sit in silence for a second before you glance at your earbuds and ask, “Do you guys like jazz tunes?” The boys stare at you with a confused expression.

“Um..…no. Why? Is that what you were listening to?”

“No. It’s just a conversation starter. The quiet was getting kinda awkward.”

The silence is back again, before you begin to quietly hum the tune of the song you were listening to before they interrupted your state of happiness. “So…..did you guys see my amazing dancing?”

Liam chuckles, eyes not meeting yours as he scans the forest around you guys and mumbles, “It wasn’t that good.” Oliver lets out a small hum of agreement.

You scoff, eyes falling to your legs as you whisper under your breath, “Well damn. I’m definitely letting my girl kill you now.”

Suddenly, a few yards away, there is a loud scream that could make someone's ear eardrums bleed. It isn’t one of fear or sadness, but of anger. The boy’s eyes widen and they begin to spin in circles to try and keep track of the attacker as they pull out their weapons. You just smile.

The sound of someone running is what finally snaps them out of their panic enough to try running away, but she’s already there using the end of her spear to hit one's back so hard he falls forward and pulls the other one of one backwards and throws him on the ground by his armor.

The first boy she pushes tries to get up and scurry away, but she simply places her foot on his back and presses so down with her boot with enough pressure he looks ready to cry. He really should be wearing armor.

“Clar! Clar, it’s fine! I’m fine!” You shout when the fear starts to set in that she might actually hurt them, and she doesn’t even seem like she’s listening as she twists her spear in a circle and looks towards the other boy with a grin on her face that you know all too well. She’s going to kill them.

You begin to try and pry your hands out of the rope so hard it begins to shred your skin like paper in hopes of stopping her from doing something she’ll get in so much trouble for, and it’s only when you let out a small whimper of pain does Clarisse stop her actions. The grin falls from her face, and her foot releases the boy as she hurries over to you.

Both boys get up off the dirt, stumbling over their own feet as they begin to run back into the forest to hide from Clarisse. “You touch them again and I’ll kill you in ways even my father couldn’t imagine!” She screams over her shoulder in a terrifying voice, and the way she then turns to you with a sweet smile would be weird to anyone else. It only comforts you.

“I’m so sorry sunshine. I’m so sorry I let them hurt you.” She whispers as she uses the sharpest part of her spear to cut the ropes off. You sigh in relief, bringing them to your lap so you can gently caress them. There are red marks surrounding them, some of which you can already tell are going to bruise and one with a small cut on it from the rope and bark on the tree rubbing on your skin.

Your girlfriend looks guilty, so when she begins to spill even more apologizes you shut her up with a gentle kiss. “It’s okay Clar. I’m okay. It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” She shakes her head no and you watch with a small smile as she uses the most gentle touch you’ve ever felt to pick up your wrists and assess the injury.

“Really. I’m fine. It’s just some rope burn.” She hums in understanding, bringing them up to her lips one by one to place a feather light kiss on the red spots. “Better?” The curly haired girl asks with a small smile.

“Much.” She nods, letting out one more apology before she picks you up bridal style and begins to walk back in the direction of camp. It’s only when you make it to the edge of the clearing and the cabins, mess hall, and big house come into view do you realize she’s not taking you back to your team's territory.

When you go to ask where she’s taking you, but she just shh’s you and takes the trail to the infirmary. In the distance, the conch shell sounds, signaling the end of the game. It’s followed by the familiar cheers of your team, making you feel bad.

“I’m really sorry Clar. I could have walked myself. I’m so sorry” She just shakes her head, walking into the small building that only has about three Apollo children in it, the kids who don’t like to play capture the flag and volunteer to stay in the infirmary in case someone needs medical help. You know them, sending them all bright smiles and they do the same.

She sets you down on a gurney, a quick glare to the boy standing awkwardly a few feet away with a clipboard is all he needs to run over and begin gently cradling your arms to wrap your wrist’s. His name is Jamie, and he’s the quietest out of all of your siblings. Even with his silence, you know he’s an absolute sweetheart after nights spent painting with him or enjoy a walk in the sun together.

“Just take off the bandages to ice them every once and a while, and you should feel fine in a few days.” He mumbles before scurrying off to do something else, but in reality you know he’s just trying to get away from the girl who now stands at the edge of your bed like a guard. My protector.

You stand up, slowly walking towards her and wrapping your arms around the back of her neck. “You know, your siblings are beginning to despise me for being the reason you guys are losing.”

She shrugs, a small smile making its way onto her face. “Let them. They ever talk shit, you come to me. I’ll deal with it. Until then, they can despise you in silence. I’m just happy you’re okay sunshine.”

“Thanks to you. My protector.” With that she chuckles, leaning down to kiss you as your arms tighten around her.

“But I’m definitely getting Chiron to change the Apollo cabin to our team.”

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson series #clarisse la rue x you #ares god of war #once again i don't know how to write endings

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writingoddess1125 · 7 months

Text

So I saw this fanart and got this idea! And after a gin and juice I wrote this. Enjoy!

Art does not belong to me! It says the artist is Flamingo_PinkArt on Twitter (If incorrect please tell me ;-;)

My Heart Breaks Pt. 1

Warning: Angst and some Fluff

Buggy X FemReader

Buy me a Ko-Fi? ☕️

Part 2

"(Y/N) Why the hell are we here?" You heard Buggy groan next to you annoyed, Shanks nodding in agreement. You rolled your eyes at their protest of being in the circus tent with you.

"Cause I am the one who got us the tickets, 20000 berries and I want to see the circus" You chimed proudly as you watched your favorite act come out. The clowns, Buggy grimacing at the sight of them, You see this and lean against his shoulder.

"Aww is Buggy afraid of clowns?~" You chime earning a glare from him and a blush. Shanks Grinning at this as he poked his friend in a teasing manor.

"No I'm not afraid of damn clowns! They are just... kinda creepy" He grumbled as he watched the group of bubbly cheerful clowns.

It had been a year since Gol. D Roger's had died, it had been hard on all three of you. But you luckily had each other and were trying to save up scraps of berries to start your guys own crew. You were the thief of the trio, a skilled person in breaking and entering as well as treasure hunting. Buggy was an amazing navigator and sailor while Shanks was the amazing fighter and leader of your trio of teenage Pirates.

You giggle at Buggy face of disgust at the clowns, you knew the real reason he hated them- It was the noses. He was self conscious about it heavily and seeing the clowns with the fake noses made him feel like they were making fun of him. You gently rub his shoulder gently, a silent gesture to comfort him.

Once out of the show you sighed in delight at feeling the sun on your face. Hearing both teens walking behind you and bickering between the two of them.

"Let's get some food for our journey to Hile Hile Village" You suggest, walking to the small market next to the curious. The three of you had been using this little village by Hile Hile Island as a sort of base. The three of you were planning a big heist in order to get a massive score of 750,000 berries which could help getting a bigger boat and not the stolen two decer you guys currently shared. The only issue was that the village was controlled by a dictator like man, A Lieutenant for the Marines that ruled the island. He had made it his mission to murder every pirate who tried to come to the island, so this would be a very quick smash and grab. Fleeing the island immediately afterwards.

It was simple, mildly foolish but hopefully effective.

Once in the market Buggy got toiletries, Shanks got food and you got basic supplies. The three of you walking together till you saw a beauty stand and seeing a deep red lipstick sticking out.

"Ohh I love this color" You hummed in pride at the red lipstick color, both teenage boys groaning as you took your sweet old time in choosing the brightest of red.

"I see you like the color red?" Shanks teased you, earning a sarcastic laugh from you.

"Oh yes, The color red really gets me going" You laugh as you pick the color and grab a near by red and white bandana, wrapping it around your head like a fake bonnet.

"Besides I hear red is a sigh of submission, what does that say about you Shanks?~" His face fell at your words and Buggy snorted a laugh.

You tossed down some berries for the bandana and lipstick. Following the boys back to the boat while you all chatted and teases each other, however Buggy's eyes landing on you every now and then more specifically your red lips. Everyone knew he had a crush on you, hell you had a thing for him too but it seemed he judt refused to make a move! Even when you all were on Roger's ship he never made a move on you.

"Buggy it's your turn to make dinner!" Shanks chimed out earning a groan from Buggy. After dinner you made it to the top of the deck to get some fresh air. Feeling the wind on your face as Buggy sailed you all to Hile Hile Island.

"Hey, You holding up okay?" You called out as you went to Buggy's side. The blue haired teen not meeting your eyes.

"I'm fine.." He grumbled, he knew he was pouting about something. Sighing as you look up at the night sky.

"What are you pouting about Bugs? Hm?" You pressed once more, Hearing a sigh from him.

"You um.. seem to like red right? Listen I assume you like Shanks and all. I mean ago doesnt- but um"

You look at Buggy as he leaned against the wheel of the stolen boat, not meeting your gaze.

"You two would be good together..." He grumbles, you roll your eyes and step towards him grabbing his arm hard you yank him from his pouting position and slammed your lips onto his. His eyes wide as you kiss him and leaned into the kiss, his eyes drooping as he felt warmth from you and wrapped a arm around you in return. After a moment you pulled away and grinned up at his cherry red face and eyes that were in a daze.

"I hope that answers the question of who I like Buggy" You teased, drawing a silent nod from him. Smiling you step back from his grasp and give his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Good night Bugs" You call out before heading down to the Lower Deck of the boat to sleep leaving Buggy standing there still shocked- His face breaking out in a wide grin as he silently cheered and jumped excitedly. You giggling at shearing his footsteps as he jumped up and down in excitement.

The next morning when the three of you arrived at Hile Hile Island and at dawn started your heist of robbing a jewelry store. It went smoothly enough, not too hard till the surprise alarms went off and the three of you ran.

Running through the streets you held the bag of values in your hand, the boys having a good lead on you as they slipped through the crowds and laughed. It was such a adrenaline rush! The boys ran ahead of you turning a sharp corner and heading down, as you prepared to catch up to them a muscular forearm suddenly slam put hitting you.

The wind getting knocked out of your lungs as you felt the forearm smash into your chest, your head smacking into the cobblestone ground as you looked up. The infamous Lieutenant staring down at you with a sickening grin- your eyes widened as you realized.. you were fucked.

"We are gonna be rich! Haha! That ship is ours! Right (Y/N!?)" Buggy yelled out, Hearing Shanks cheer ahead of him. Not hearing your voice he started to slow down lookknv behind him seeing you were gone and his eyes widened, Shanks still on his adrenaline high stopped as well and turned to look to see the confused Buggy.

"Where is (Y/N)?" Buggy questioned, Shanks face falling as he realized this. The two boys meeting each other's gaze and began to rush through were they had run to try and find you, calling out your name. The boys running back to try and find you, as they made it to a backstreet they see you in the back of a Marine jail wagon being dragged away to the local prison. Buggy surged forward in wanting to Spring you free but Shanks grabbed his shoulder quickly.

To say this had turned into a total shit show for you. You had been tossed in the back of the Marine jail wagon, then brought to the local prison.

There you were thrown into a cell with a women who had even in hysterics. Begging for death for her actions instead of the life sentence she was given. Your mind was racing as you tried to think of ways to get out- watching as the Lieutenant walked to you with a smile.

"It's been a while since we had a Pirate here, it's good. We needed an execution tomorrow" He said with a evil smile at you. The color draining from your face at his words.

"What!? Not a trial! Or even a proper investigation!?" You screamed as you grab at the bars. The Marine laughed loudly in your face as he leaned down to your level.

"Little girl, I'm the judge, jury and executioner. Welcome to Hile Hile!" He chimed loudly before dismissing himself with a deep laugh leaving you alone with the sobbing women.

You sat there for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Having even spoken to the women who told you she had accidently fell asleep and her child drowned and was imprisoned for murder. Now sentenced to life in prison at Impel Down, even though she wanted to die for her actions. A completely over sentencing for a horrible accident but you figured that was just how this place was run.

Going up the the barred wi dows of your cell you look out over the village. Fear running through your system as the words the man said to you rang through your system. It wasn't till you saw your two friends running in the alley by your cell did it snap you from your thoughts. Clapping your hands quickly to catch your attention you saw both of them turn to you.

"(Y/N)!" Buggy called out, looking around wildly before detaching his torso and floating up to meet you grabbing at the bars to try and pull on them. You quickly shoo him to go back down.

"No, They will see you" You hissed at him and held his hand, He floated back down but kept his detached hand with you. A sinking feeling hitting your stomach as you smiled at the two boys who rambled out in panic talking about how they would break you out. Shanks was the first one to notice your silence and the sadness in your eyes.

"Guys.. I.. I love you two-" You said to them, both freezing at your words as dread fills their system.

"Hey don't be so glum! We will get you out okay?!"

You gave Buggy's hand a squeeze sniffling back tears as you kissed the back of his hand staining it with your lipstick and taking the bandana you had bought before from around your neck and tied it to his wrist.

"I promise it will be okay Buggy.. Ill be okay" You say in a shaky voice, trying to keep him calm. Releasing his hand which floated back to his wrist.

"I'll get you out of here (Y/N)! They won't hurt you I swear!" Buggy proclaimed, his mind racing with ideas to break you out. Rushing down the alleyway in order to begin plotting.

You looked at Shanks through the bars and gave him a watery smile, tears welling in your eyes.

"Shanks... Promise me- If I go... Buggy can't see it.. He should never see me that way okay? Dont try and break me out.. you guys can get killed" You begged, tears rolling down your cheeks as you saw Shanks own eyes well with tears and nod his head.

"I-I promise (Y/N)..." He stuttered out, looking ahead and running after Buggy finally. Knowing the task that laid before him-

The next day was the day of the public execution. Wanting to make a an example out of you as they prepare for you to be killed. The Lieutenant coming by the cell you shared with the woman, who was still in her mess of a state at being imprisoned for life.

"Ah a Pirate and a Murderer" He chuckled darkly at the two of you. You glaring back at him as he leered at you-

"Does it make you feel strong to kill a child?" You asked him, earning a glare from the male who slammed his hand against the bars.

"Your show time is in half an hour- pray" He hissed at you and tossed a prison uniform and cloth bag at your feet. You knew what this was for by the red that spotted the collars on both-

Buggy had been frantically gathering a plan for his rescue mission, Ignoring the oddly silent Shanks who had just been watching him. Buggy creating a flashy and dramatic escape plan to rescue (Y/N).

"Alright It's almost ready!" He said as he grabbed rope, knives and more. Shanks looking at Buggy and sighing.

"Buggy- We can't get her-" He started but Buggy glared hard at him.

"Yes we can- if we follow this plan I can get her!" Buggy screamed, Shanks clenching his fist as he glared at his friend.

"Buggy I'm not going to let you get yourself killed" He said evenly, a silent standoff starting before Buggy shot a punch using his devil fruit which landed right on Shanks cheek knocking the red head stumble back for just a moment before Buggy bolted, running off the boat and into the rain. Buggy hearing the sound of the crowd gathering at the main city court yard, Bolting towards the direction.

Shanks chased Buggy, sliding through the rain as he saw Buggy run like his life depended on it. Buggy turned a hard corner and slipped hard, his body slamming into an alleyway wall.

Shanks grabbed Buggy and held him against the wall with all his force keeping his limbs pinned, tears running down his own cheeks as he make sure Buggy didn't move from his spot. He knew Buggy couldn't use his Devil fruit abilities as well and his limbs couldn't get far enough to reach you or strong enough to push or kick him off.

"THEY ARE GOING TO KILL HER! WE CAN HELP HER!" Buggy screamed at Shanks as the red head held his friend down-

"Buggy they will kill you!... I-I promised... I-Im sorry" He croaked out- The sound of the crowd in the courtyard got louder and Buggy moved harshly.

'We are here to show that while Gol. D Roger's influence still stands! We will be the strong hand that brings it back!'

The echoing voice sounded through the city, Buggy screaming as he tried his hardest to fight against Shanks.

'A Thief and Pirate. This is the price to pay for crimes here in Hile Hile Town! Is Death!"

The crowd cheering before there was a click before it happened- Buggy's eyes went wide as he heard the massive sound of the guillotine slamming down. The fight leaving his body as he saw the birds fly up from were the courtyard was the sound scaring them from their refuge in the rain, and the sound of cheers from the courtyard from the public execution.

He didn't even feel the cold from the rain anymore, instead feeling the emotions he had turn into ice in his chest. Like his heart had been ripped from his very being and tossed into the deepest part of the sea.

Shanks still sobbing himself pulled away from Buggy knowing it had been done. His own body shivering from the cold as he wept looking at his brothers face, Buggy's eyes looking dull like that of a fishes.

"B-Buggy I'm sorry" Shanks managed to sob to his friend, Like a puppet Buggy moved to his feet barely able to stand as he felt his body was hollow and boots too heavy. His hair sticking to his skin as he felt the rain wash away his love for Shanks and you.

"..I will never forgive this betrayal Shanks... Just like (Y/N) you are dead to me..." Buggy croaked out his voice the softest it had ever sounded, not even meeting Shanks eyes as he turned and started to walk off to towards the courtyard.

Shanks standing there in the rain not saying a word as he let Buggy go, still crying himself. The blue haired teen walking to the courtyard were the crowd was filing out, having gotten their fill of bloodshed. Buggy walked to the empty courtyard and looked up seeing the Marines cleaning the mess, the rain helping to wash the blood from the blade used and the stage it rested on. One of the Marines loading a headless female body into a basket, wearing basic black and white stripped prison attire

Buggy fell to his knees, his eyes locked onto the blade that had taken you from his life- he reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out the red and white bandana you had given him, while wet from rain he put it to his head and tied it around his blue hair.

He would remember you... he would cherish the memory. His best friend, his first love... a girl who always smiled wearing too red of lipstick and loved the circus...

He would be the greatest at it all.... Just for you.

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x reader

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wnderkoo · 10 months

Text

ESCAPISM | JJK

୨୧ lipstick smudged like modern art..

word count: 3k warnings: explicit smut

this is part of my drabble series, read more here!

"What did we say about disassociating?" comes the teasing voice of your best friend, Sumi. She was sitting across from you at the booth in the corner of this nightclub, where the lights were down and the music was up.

"Sorry..." you grumbled, taking another sip of your mocktail as if to pull yourself back into your own consciousness. In all truth, you had been zoning out for the past few minutes, unable to feel the club vibe at all.

You'd been sitting in the club for the past hour, eyes wandering over the crowd in boredom and watching the night play out. Your friends were here somewhere, but you weren't in the mood for dancing.

You were looking for something a little more fun.

That was when you saw him, leaning against one of the walls by the entrance. Looking so tempting in his black button up with the sleeves rolled to just above his elbows which showed off his full sleeve of dark tattoos. With the jeans that accentuated those thick thighs of his so perfectly, your first thought was getting him into your own pants.

And judging from the hooded glances he'd been making in your direction throughout the night, you could say he thought the same.

With enough alcohol in your system, you plucked up the courage to approach him.

You sauntered over, holding his gaze the whole trip across the club, until you were standing right in front of him.

From where you sat you could guess he was tall, but being right in front of him had you looking up.

"Five more seconds, and I would've come over myself," was the first thing he had said, his voice a rich timbre that sounded like honey. His eyes held yours, lips tugging up at the corners slightly.

It took you by surprise, you'd expected those eyes to be all over you by now. Your tiny black dress left little to the imagination and this man had front row access right now.

"I like the sound of that.. should I go back?" you asked in a sultry voice, tilting your head to the side ever so slightly. The man smiled, the soft rumble of a chuckle shaking his chest.

Inside, a searing heat started in his belly at your hooded eyes staring up at him, all but screaming 'fuck me' at him.

He was even more attractive up close, the smoothness of his skin enough to make any woman jealous and a jawline that could kill.

You could distinguish a freckle just below his lip that winked at you when he smiled.

"I'm Jungkook."

"Yn." you replied, taking the hand he held out to shake. You hoped the lighting of the club would be able to mask the blush creeping up onto your cheeks at the soft kiss he planted to the back of your hand.

"Would you like to get out of here, Yn?" he asked, doing the same head tilt you had done earlier, the way he said your name sending a bout of arousal straight to your core.

"Only if you promise not to kill me," you replied, gazing up at him as he finally straightened up.

God he was even taller now.

"Ah.. I guess that's out of the picture now." he joked softly, offering you his arm. Something about his confidence, or just him in general, had you taking it with no hesitation, wrapping a hand around his bicep as Jungkook led you out of the club.

You took your phone from your pocket to shoot your friend a quick text.

| leaving with a cute guy :) he's too pretty to be a murderer so hopefully i'll be home tomorrow..

You pocketed your phone and turned your head to see Jungkook smiling down at you.

"So you think I'm cute huh?" he teased as the two of you rounded the corner.

You'd thought he'd take you straight to his home, but it seemed Jungkook had different things in mind.

You were familiar with this part of the city since your friend Taehyung lived in an apartment not too far from here. The streets were well lit, and the lobbies of office buildings were still open with plenty of people inside, the first place you were running to if things turned sour.

But looking at the man beside you, blowing a stray piece of hair that seemed to be annoying him, you didn't think he could hurt a fly.

And for some odd reason, you felt safe with Jungkook.

He took your hand as he crossed the road and you laughed along with him when he nearly tripped on the curb.

The two of you hadn't stopped talking since you'd left the club, and you soon learnt that the confident playboy you had thought you'd met earlier was nothing but a dork.

"I'm just saying! The Demon Slayer movie was one of the best anime movies!" he exclaimed and then proceeded to give a detailed review of the film.

Yeah, you definitely weren't getting murdered tonight.

You only realised you were walking through the park when you cleared the line of trees and saw the reflection of the moon sparkling in the pond ahead.

Despite the loss of warmth from your hand leabing his, Jungkook's smile is nothing but warm as he watches you attempt to run over to the edge of the pond in your heels, almost tripping at least twice.

"I like to go here when I need time to myself," Jungkook said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He wasn't sure why he shared such an insignificant fact about himself, but it was easy to talk to you when it seemed like he'd known you for ever.

Jungkook had to remind himself that he'd only met you half an hour ago.

"So you live around here?"

Jungkook nodded, pointing to a large building over the trees on the other side of the park.

"That's my apartment building."

Jungkook found himself staring at you as you turned back to the pond, watching the ducks in awe, laughing softly when you told him how you wished you had some bread to throw.

Fuck, was he really considering running to the nearest convenience store to buy you bread?

There was no doubt he thought you were attractive, he really was going to approach you earlier when you'd beaten him to it. You had come over, looking so irresistible with your hips swaying as you walked, and Jungkook knew he was in for it.

And then you'd spoken to him, and he almost fell to his knees.

The moon hung in the sky, casting soft glows of pale ivory down onto your face and Jungkook just couldn't help but cup your jaw as he softly pressed his lips to yours.

You were slightly taken aback, since you'd spent the past few minutes in silence as you watched the ducks, but you quickly reciprocated, kissing him sweetly.

You both pull away with a smile.

"What was that for?" you laugh sweetly, trying tucking a strand of hair behind your ear out of shyness.

"I've wanted to do that all night," Jungkook admits quietly, brushing it away for you.

"What else have you wanted to do?" you ask, gazing up at him. Jungkook chuckles at your brashness, linking your hands together as he leads you in the direction of his apartment.

"Why don't we go and find out?"

The duality of the man before you was not to be taken lightly.

Despite looking so cute and dorky when he was showing you pictures of his dog earlier, he sure was pounding into you hard enough to see stars.

"Fuck, Jungkook.." you groaned, nails raking down his back, harsh enough to leave marks, as his hips slammed continuously into you.

With every drag of his thick cock against your walls, the head of it brushing against your cervix every time he thrust back in, you were inching closer and closer to your release.

Said man emerged from your neck, where he had been attacking your skin with kisses and gentle nibbles, to look down at you with a smile.

"Such a pretty girl," he cooed, the pet name earning a mewl from you as Jungkook leaned down for a kiss. You groaned into his mouth when he grinded against you as he did so, and the familiar feeling in your stomach soon started to bloom.

Not only was his duality no joke, Jungkook's stamina was simply something was else.

He'd already given you two orgasms, one while riding his face and the other when he pounded into you from behind as you were pressed up against his windows.

You'd bashfully admitted that you thought it would be hot, and Jungkook wasn't about to deny you.

His hips sped up their pace, determined to bring you to your third high of the night, and when Jungkook's hand reached between your bodies to press against your clit, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you came with his name on your tongue.

He helped you ride out your orgasm, taking your lips in his again and kissing you roughly.

You were too busy relishing in your own pleasure to realise Jungkook's hips begin to falter and he thrusted once, twice, before he was spilling himself into the condom while sighing out your name before collapsing beside you.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Jungkook rolls out of bed to dispose of the condom. You take the time to pad off to his bathroom and pee. The reflection that greets you when you wash your hands is well and truly fucked out, hair a mess and makeup barely intact.

You make it to bed before Jungkook, having no idea where he had disappeared to. You make yourself comfortable in his bed, closing your eyes and waiting patiently for his return.

You hear the soft footfalls as he enters the room, and peeking an eye open you see him back in his boxers holding a glass of water in his hand.

When he sees you in his bed, his eyes glaze over again but he reminds himself you're already tired out.

You take the glass of water he offers you, gulping it down and placing it on the bedside table just as Jungkook slides into bed beside you.

"You lied.." you said through heavy breaths, resting your chin on his shoulder and gazing up at him. Jungkook cocked an eyebrow up in question, his hand soothing circles on your hip. You hadn't even notice him wrap an arm around you, the warmth of his body already so familiar.

"That sex just killed me."

Jungkook snorted, and you couldn't help but break out into a grin. You had joked about him killing you earlier, and with the way he easily drew three orgasms out of you, he basically had.

"You're something else, Yn." Jungkook shook his head, leaning over to switch his lamp off and submerge the room in darkness. With the blinds half drawn, it wasn't completely dark- the skyline casting just enough light to see the city around you."

"You're so lucky to have this view all to yourself," you murmured, earning a noncommittal hum from Jungkook in reply. Soon his warmth is at your back, spooning you from behind as you both look out at the night beyond his windows.

"It gets lonely sometimes though."

The sentence itself was sad, but the longing in his voice sent a certain pang to your chest that you weren't sure how to interpret.

As you fell asleep blanketed by Jungkook's warmth, you couldn't help but feel that same longing.

The next morning, you woke up to the sun still slowly climbing over the horizon, rays of light peeking from behind the city buildings and painting the room in pretty pastel pinks and purples.

Jungkook was still sleeping soundly, face buried in the crook of your neck and an arm draped protectively around your middle.

He was quite the clingy sleeper.

You laid awake for a few minutes, letting yourself bask in the warmth and safety you felt in that moment as you lay with Jungkook. You'd never felt so contempt the morning after a hookup, usually sneaking out as soon as you were awake. But you let yourself enjoy Jungkook's company for a few more moments.

After all, they would be the last.

You slowly peeled his arm off of you, ignoring the sudden feeling of missing his warmth as you slid out of bed and quietly put your clothes back on. You made sure to send Sumi a quick text to say you were still alive before checking you had all of your things.

You weren't quite sure why you hesitated in the doorway of his bedroom, or why you stood there for a solid minute or two watching him sleep.

Maybe you were the murderer this whole time.

Your heart un-doubtedly squeezed in your chest when you saw Jungkook reach for you amongst the sheets, face scrunching up so cutely you almost abandoned everything and climbed back into bed.

But you knew you couldn't do that.

No matter how much fun you had last night with Jungkook, walking through the city and getting to know him, and then coming to his apartment and getting the brains fucked out of you, you knew that it would be easier to just forget him.

It'd save you both the heartbreak later on.

When Jungkook found a pillow and eased again, you finally willed yourself to turn and leave. Navigating yourself through his spacious apartment, you found the front door and put your shoes on before calling for an Uber.

You told yourself that you only looked back a final time and hesitated because you wanted to make sure you didn't forget anything.

With a sigh, you closed the door behind you and said goodbye to the closest thing to love you'd ever have.

"Was he big?"

Not even a minute after you opened the door and Sumi was already asking her questions.

You hadn't even taken your shoes off yet.

Perched on the couch, your best friend sips her morning coffee as one of her Kdramas plays on the TV at a low volume.

"Mhm.." you reply, throwing yourself down onto the couch beside her. Sumi raises an eyebrow, glancing at you and taking in your sullen expression.

"You're not seeing him again are you?" she sighs, slightly disappointed.

Having known you since college, Sumi was well aware of your dating ethic.

To sum it up: you didn't date.

Not that you couldn't get dates, you got plenty. But you never let them get anywhere or too serious, you were self-destructive like that. Hook ups and short flings were more your avenue.

She takes your silence as the usual answer.

"Babe, you gotta let yourself be happy.." Sumi sighs again.

"I am happy," you smile, trying your best to convince her.

You wouldn't be lying if you said that you were happy with your life. Living in an apartment with your best friend, having friends you could rely on and a steady paying job that fuelled your reading addiction, there wasn't much more you could ask for.

"I have you, and all our friends."

"That's not what I mean, Yn.." she frowns, cupping your face in her hands.

"You came home with a glow, and not just a post mind-blowing sex glow."

You stare at her confused.

"You were glowing like you finally found someone you really connect with."

You look away, brows furrowing as if you couldn't believe what she just said. Instead you stare at a spot on the wall, afraid to meet her gaze.

To say that you could look at couples on the street and not wish you had something like they had would be a complete lie. But your fear of commitment made it hard for you to seek out those kinds of relationships, choosing the safe option and sticking to hooking up with strangers and then never seeing them again.

But Sumi was right. You did connect with Jungkook. You connected with him so fast and easily it terrified you. He was so easy to talk to, and you found yourself laughing so hard tears sprung in your eyes more than once last night.

"Well he's gone now," you shrug, leaning forward to grab the remote, being yelled at for changing the channel would be better than having this conversation.

"You literally know where he lives.." Sumi deadpans, snatching the remote back with a scowl.

While that was true, you weren't about to rock up at his door after leaving this morning.

"Hey Jungkook! Sorry I snuck out of your house without saying goodbye, anyway do you wanna date me and deal with all my internalised issues?"

When you'd walked into his apartment, he had ordered pizza for the both of you and put a movie on- something people usually didn't do for their hookups. It was nice to just hang out with him though, and maybe if you hadn't hooked up with him, you could've been friends with Jungkook.

But you did hook-up with him. And if you caught feelings, it'd just hurt way more because Jungkook was the type of person who would treat you well.

It was only more of a reason to forget about him.

Save you the heartbreak, you remind yourself.

He might've been the best lay of your life, but Jeon Jungkook was only an escape, and there was no way in hell you were seeing him again.

it's been a while friends! hope you enjoyed this little thing.. if you did or didn't please let me know! i always want to hear your thoughts <3 talk to me here!!

this was originally supposed to become a big oneshot but i have commitment issues with finishing anything so its been sitting in my drafts for months.. so i thought i'd just turn it into a quick little fic :)

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milla984 · 11 months

Text

It's the Great Pumpkin, Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer and Reader get to spend some quality time together on Halloween

Pairing: virgin!Spencer Reid x fem!reader, virgin!Spencer Reid x plus size Reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: heavy kissing, handjob, fingering, brief mention of an anxiety attack, body image insecurities (both parts)

Word Count: 5.4k

This work is part of the series Spencer Reid, my beloved

“I am officially traumatized,” Penelope blurted out when the end credits rolled on the screen, “remind me to never watch another Halloween movie with you, guys!!”

You could almost hear Spencer squeak in disbelief. “What?! This is a classic!”

She stood up to adjust her skirt, the one with jack-o’-lanterns and spiderwebs arranged in a casual pattern all over the dark fabric, and the bats standing on top of her fuzzy headband wiggled in different directions.

“Uh–uh, La Dolce Vita is a classic. This is what goes on in the twisted mind of someone who desperately needed a hug and a large cup of hot cocoa with a ton of whipped cream and sprinkles as a child.”

You smiled as you finished loading the dishwasher, amused by the discussion unfolding in your living room; in your heart you were the greatest admirer of Spencer’s ability to conjure up any kind of random information on the spot but the exact moment you saw him open his mouth you knew he was about to make the situation worse.

“In fact, Barker’s grandmother had a fascination with the macabre. She would often tell gruesome stories which she presented as true tales so he grew up with the fear of being murdered in his own house.”

Garcia gawked and raised a hand in his direction, simultaneously turning your way. “See?! Forgive me if I don’t think that having my entire body ripped apart by giant hooks is the ultimate frontier of pleasure!”

“And I’ll never look at a puzzle box the same way! What if it’s a brain teaser from Hell and there’s one of those chattering monsters inside?” she added and you had to hold back your laughter because Spencer’s perplexed frown was probably one of the cutest and funniest things in the whole world.

The mustache glued to his upper lip and the cravat he wore over a white shirt and black vest were only adding to it so you forced yourself to remain serious. “I’m sorry… pizza and a movie from my dvd collection were all I had to offer on such short notice,” you said, to which she replied by shaking her long, wavy hair.

“Oh no, sweet pea! You did great, I’m just too attached to the illusion that life is a rainbow to be into the traditional Halloween gore,” she sighed and wrapped herself in a colorful poncho. “Hey, Raven Man! Ready to leave?”

Spencer squirmed: an IQ of 187 and still he was unable to come up with a semi-plausible lie when it came to hiding the truth from his friends. Feeling the weight of her curious stare he swallowed nervously.

“I was kind of considering the possibility of going to the midnight screening of Nosferatu, at the Silver Theatre. It’s the 100th anniversary so the Silent Orchestra will play the entire score live, have you ever heard of them? They use contemporary musical idioms to convey the art of pre-talkies films to modern audiences, they’ve been widely acclaimed for their work.”

Penelope raised an eyebrow. “Midnight screening, huh?! Which means you don’t need a ride home… what a coincidence,” she teased, leaning forward to squeeze you in a passionate hug. “I knew it! I saw it the minute I walked in!”

This time was your turn to shrug with a puzzled expression: Reid and Garcia should have been on the opposite side of D.C. for a relaxed dinner at the Morgans’ after a thorough raid of all the neighborhood porches. However, Derek had called just as they were getting in the car to inform them that Hank got unexpectedly sick and forty-five minutes later All Hallows’ Eve enthusiast Reid (dressed up as Edgar Allan Poe) plus a very concerned Penelope had showed up at your apartment, making you wonder why on earth wasn’t she already busy baking since she kept repeating chickenpox called for the best pumpkin pie ever.

“Well, there goes our plan to keep a low profile,” you groaned as you closed the door behind her, and Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“How…?! Is this what they call ‘female intuition’?”

“Call it whatever you want but I’m glad she’s not mad we didn’t tell her right away,” you replied, proceeding to wrap your arms around his shoulders, “and I can think of another person who’s probably very happy for you, now.”

Spencer got rid of the fake mustache with a pensive stare. When it finally dawned on him that Garcia’s phone buzzing during your impromptu horror-themed movie night had in fact started out as live updates on their godson’s health and most likely turned into a gossip session about you two as a couple he squinted.

“I almost bailed on going trick-or-treating with them. I didn’t because I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, but I also wanted to see you. It’s our first Halloween.”

You nodded. “Maybe we can still get tickets for Nosferatu. You’re a terrible liar, so I’m sure there really is a midnight screening at the Silver Theatre.”

Spencer stared at you, entranced, then pulled you closer and in a heartbeat your lips met his - a sweet caress, tender and soft, your breaths entwined and your noses rubbing against each other in delicate strokes. You gave him a gentle push and he plopped down on the couch as you placed one knee on either side of his legs to straddle him; one of his hands sneaked behind you, exploring you as if he was trying to blindly map your whole back.

You felt his other hand on your waist, hesitant.

Three months had passed since the day you both came to the conclusion you were not “just friends” - three months made of late night phone calls from six different States, of handwritten silly notes you hid in his leather bag each time you drove him to the airport to catch a flight for Houston, three months of you hoping things would eventually move past the PG rated phase.

Three months of your self-consciousness sowing the seed of doubt in your heart, encouraged by the notion of whom he got to share his workspace with: you were no Emily or JJ and even if Spencer wasn’t the type to pay attention to details he frequently referred to as ‘trivial’ you were growing less and less confident.

“It’s fine, you can touch me,” you whispered, guiding his palm to cup your breast. They were pretty difficult to ignore, nevertheless he always seemed to steer away from them as much as he could.

You ran your fingers through his hair until you grabbed a small chunk of his curls; Spencer gasped for air and you brushed your tongue over his lower lip, letting out a muffled moan when the heat between your legs became almost unbearable. You started grinding on his lap to adjust tightly against his body.

“Wait…” he whined, squirming under you.

A second moan escaped from your throat while the pressure of his stiff cock hit your thigh but he shoved you away to free himself and spring to his feet, shaking heavily as if he was experiencing a full blown anxiety attack.

His cheeks were flustered and his hair stuck to his dampened forehead so that he couldn’t even look at you straight - which gave him the perfect excuse to avoid doing it altogether. “I– I’m sorry…”

“No, no, I am…” you muttered, because the guilt building up in your chest felt so heavy you find it difficult to breathe.

Spencer was standing there, fumbling nervously with the cravat around his neck; his body language was screaming discomfort and he was clearly thinking of an excuse to remove himself from the situation. It was then that the hidden and irrational side of you, the one that desperately feared he would have disappeared forever if you’d let him go, kicked in and a rush of adrenaline came running down your spine.

“Please…” you continued, placing a hand over his, “it’s okay, really… there’s no way to control it, you should know better than anyone—”

“Why? Because I’m a man and men are supposed to have zero impulse regulation?!”

The embarrassment and shame in his voice broke you: you had sworn a thousand times in your mind to do your best to be his solace, yet now it seemed you were hurting him like no-one had ever done before.

“No,” you replied, “because you’re the genius, here, and you should know it’s a perfectly healthy and natural reaction.”

He huffed, visibly irritated at what he must have perceived as a patronizing tone. A different sort of emotion crawled under your skin, sparked by the amount of tension stagnating in the air.

You offered him a cushion and glanced at him with your usual no-nonsense attitude. “Sit down, so we can have a proper conversation? You know, like… functioning adults.”

Spencer pouted for a second, evaluating numbers and statistics about two years and a half’s worth of interactions. The truth was, intellectual affinity was such a familiar concept for the two of you that talking your way through an issue was indeed a synonym for a positive outcome.

He grabbed the cushion and held it onto his stomach to shield himself from your gaze, though it was purposely focused on his face; you thought it was best to put some distance between your bodies when he sat on the couch again so you folded your legs underneath you, shivering like a cold draft had found its way inside the room.

“Listen, we can both agree this is not your regular, everyday casual topic of conversation… which is why we’ve never discussed premarital sex—”

“I’m not against it,” Spencer rushed to declare, “I’ve assumed it was the same for—”

“Sure, no! Ditto,” you confirmed.

His furrowed brows relaxed while his mouth curved in a timid smile. “Did you know that every person’s intimate relationships follow a script that has been written according to their own individual attitude towards all –uhm, sexual experiences?”

“I did not,” you admitted, and Spencer’s hands started dancing to the sound of his own words.

“There are sets of guidelines for appropriate behavior, each partner in consensual encounters acts as if they are an actor following a script rather than acting on impulse alone. Researches indicate that women are more likely to initiate contact in well established relationships, negotiating sexual activity in developing relationships can be difficult 'cause both parts have multiple goals to deal with, such as providing relational definitions or following specific standards or morals.”

“Yeah, speaking about relationships… I think we’ve been in one since Christmas, we were just too dumb to say it out loud. And to each other,” you explained. “Sounds like a well-established to me but what’s your take on us?”

He curled into himself. “Every time we’re together I know there’s no other place I’d rather be. I’ve never even imagined it could be possible, I want to feel you even closer… and I’m so afraid I’m forcing this on you—”

“You’re not, I want it too,” you reassured him, “but to be honest I was starting to worry you were not into… me.”

Spencer’s beautiful eyes roamed over you and what you could see was all but repulsion. “Actually it’s the complete opposite.”

“So, what if my script says I’m ready to take things further?” you inquired, inching towards him to tug at the cravat of his costume.

Spencer cupped your face and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Mine is on the same page,” he whispered.

Your fingers immediately went to the vest he was wearing and trailed the line of buttons in a slow movement; you undid them one by one, the hems eventually coming apart to reveal the white shirt underneath.

“Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good,” you purred while you loosened the cravat to uncover his Adam’s apple. The way his muscles tensed as it bobbed up and down drove you crazy, so you teased him with the tip of your tongue - your lips grazing over the short stubble.

Damn him and his impeccable bone structure: the scruffy look suited him so well it always sparked in you the urge to pin him to a wall and sink your teeth into his tender flesh. You loved how he could sport a smooth, professional style when the situation required it still wasn’t concerned with shaving each morning, almost as if it was an impractical activity which took energy away from whatever he considered to be a priority at that moment.

You heard something flop on the floor and stopped your ministrations: the cushion he’d been holding over his stomach wasn’t there anymore, meaning you got to notice his trousers were becoming increasingly tight.

You squeezed his knee to make sure he was prepared for a more intimate contact then you slid it even further on his leg, giving him a couple of minutes to adjust to your gentle strokes before you felt confident enough to move the action to his inner thigh.

Spencer gasped, surprised rather than shocked or disturbed by how close you were now to where he was aching, and he leaned back to ease the pressure of the fabric but kept his eyes on you.

He gave a silent nod in response to your interrogative stare, so you finally traced the outline of his hard cock between your thumb and index.

He jolted this time and muttered under his breath, a deep rasp in his voice you didn’t expect: you were unprepared to hear your name spoken as it was the quintessence of pure desire and you quivered, the throbbing in your ears rolling to your core.

You kissed his temple as you pointed at the waistband of his trousers. “Can I…?”

“Y– yes…” he muttered.

His clothes didn’t have any space left to accommodate his bulge. You palmed over it and felt an impatient twitch, which nearly had Spencer cursing; it was becoming torture for him so you reached for the zipper.

For a split second the historical inaccuracy of a Victorian era costume featuring a device first introduced years after Edgar Allan Poe’s death hit you - a remark Reid himself would have been very appreciative of, which showed how much you could relate to the way his brain worked. Then you shook out of it and peeled his slacks open.

You crumpled the shirt over his stomach and marveled at the sight of his soft belly, the flawless navel, the dark fuzz pointing directly to his raging erection. With a cautious approach you freed it from any restraint, chewing on your lower lip as you often did when you were entirely focused on a challenging task.

You couldn’t exactly say you had many options in your mind to compare him to but you had done a lot of fantasizing: now that he was in front of you, undressed and defenseless, you were downright mesmerized by—

“What’s wrong?!” Spencer screeched, interrupting your train of thought. “Is it odd? Does it look odd?!”

You shook your head, taken aback. “... odd?! No, why?!” you asked. “It’s just…” you petted the roundness to demonstrate, “I like your tummy so much.”

The way it pressed against his belt whenever he sat next to you on your couch or his was overly inviting and in the past weeks you had to fight the temptation to sneak a hand inside his shirt to squish it, because you didn’t know how he would’ve reacted.

“Really?!” he marveled, confirming he wasn’t even aware you had a thing for soft tummies. His soft tummy, to be specific.

You smiled and leaned forward to rest your forehead against his. “Are you okay with me doing this?”

Spencer nodded, his eyelids half-closed, so you let your fingertips follow the trail of hair below his belly button; his hardness twitched again when you got near, then you wrapped your hand around it.

You both moaned in unison, a harmony of pleasure that filled the silence of your living room. You moved along his entire length, feeling the satiny skin sliding over the shaft, and he threw his hair back in a movement that left his jugular exposed: his neck was too inviting and you sucked on it, the groans vibrating in his throat reverberating on your lips.

You gripped tighter when he got used to your caresses. As soon as his muffled whimpers seemed to increase in frequency you circled your thumb over the tip, spreading his leaking precum over the sensitive head. Spencer was at loss for words, a good indication that he was definitely enjoying the moment.

You were enjoying it too; you started to rub your legs together, your imagination running wild and picturing all sorts of scenarios. The mere thought of having him inside of you made you want to touch yourself but you resisted: Spencer was undoubtedly new to this and deserved someone in his life to love him and shower him with attention, so you decided to put his release before your own.

When you twisted your hand at the base of his cock he jumped, missing the bridge of your nose by a few inches.

“Too much?!” you cooed, and he seemed to come out of a sort of drunken stupor.

“No, no… it’s good, I like it…”

You sighed. “Spence, you have to tell me if—”

“It’s really good,” he replied, the urgency sensible in his tone. “Don’t stop,” he pleaded, low-key ashamed of how needy he’d sounded.

You pecked him on the nose as a reassurance you accepted and cherished this version of him: he wasn’t the kind of man to be interested in the crude physical aspect of sex, he’d made it clear. He wasn’t desperate for just anyone to satisfy him - he trusted you to do it, because he knew you were safe in each other’s arms.

You shifted to adjust at his side and returned to your previous occupation; you let your other hand wander over his thigh as a forewarning, then you sheepishly cupped his balls so you could provide additional stimulation and send him over the edge.

He bucked his hips, a loud “Oh, God!!!” escaping from his mouth before he grasped a fistful of your hair. He was hungry for you, his tongue sliding lustfully against yours and his breathing so ragged you were sure he was getting close.

Kissing him was your drug of choice but you also wanted to watch him come undone, thanks to you, so you turned your head while he tensed: he arched his back and bucked his hips once more, nipping at your earlobe. He became harder as he spilled himself over your fingers, wrist and his own stomach with a feral growl.

You didn’t let go of him, not even when his whole body finally slumped down.

The well-defined jaw and unruly curls falling on his face, now so serene, made him appear like a Botticellian masterpiece. Botticelli would have never painted one of his subjects in such a disheveled state, for sure, but the contrast between his angelic aura and the fact he was sprawled on the couch with his trousers unzipped and his softening cock still in your hand was a vision to behold.

“Hey,” you hummed as he re-opened his eyes and found you looking at him, “you’re too cute to be real, you know that?!”

Embarrassed - yet adorably proud - Spencer lowered his gaze, only to grimace at the stickiness on his belly. And on you. “I made a mess, I’m s—”

“We made a mess. Besides, it’s nothing a towel can’t fix, don’t be sorry,” you said, patting his tummy.

You were almost tempted to ask him how long he’d been saving it for, in a clumsy attempt to remind him you’d fallen so head over heels for him you were not at all grossed out; at the last moment you ruled the joke out, though, stretching your legs to get up instead. “Give me a couple of minutes.”

He flashed you the most awkward smile and you forced your feet to move towards the bathroom.

You washed your hands under the hot running water and silently watched a part of Spencer swirling down the drain; the floral scent of the soap was now in the air but you could still feel his - coffee and cologne, accentuated by the faint traces of sweat on his skin.

You had just discovered something new: Spencer was often oblivious of how good he looked (despite the dark circles under his eyes) and that was no mystery, but the idea he might have been insecure about different parts of his body was something you’d never taken into account. If being a couple was the natural consequence of the emotional bond between you - rather than a result of some physical infatuation alone - why was he so preoccupied with your reaction to his half-naked self?

Your brain was going in severe overdrive.

You inhaled and exhaled a couple of times, your fingers gripping on the honed marble of the countertop, then you dried your hands with a towel, grabbed a fresh one and returned to the living room; the instant you approached your couch you realized Spencer had been doing a lot of thinking of his own, and your heart sank into your stomach.

“Wunderkind, are you alright?” you questioned as you offered him the towel so that he could clean himself up. “What’s going on in here?” you added, tapping lightly on his temple.

He shrugged and proceeded to meticulously remove any trace of his seed from his belly and clothes before tucking the shirt into the waistband of his trousers. “Nothing special.”

His left eyebrow raised, due to an involuntary movement of his facial muscles: it was a flash, a glimpse, the undeniable proof he was hiding something. The sound of your intrusive thoughts and fears got so loud you wanted to scream to cover their noise.

“Your microexpressions say otherwise,” you retorted.

Spencer lifted his head to meet your eyes, mouth agape, and you couldn’t decipher the meaning of such a bewildered reaction. You had always been able to recognize his lying frown, his anxious smile, the suspicious squint and a hundred more variations: you were not a member of the BAU but you were an expert on detecting and classifying his emotions, yet you’d never seen that one before.

“It’s… uhm, I’m wondering if it was good for you.”

Your heart leaped and bounced back where it belonged. His job required him to be the one calling people out on their behavior, not the other way round; your presence in his life forced him to face a situation in which his skills as a profiler couldn’t shield him from his own vulnerability, so he was in serious need of some consolation.

You bent over to whisper in his ear. “It was.”

“But you didn’t...” he nervously licked his lips, “and I want you to. Just tell me how.”

In the back of your mind you were 100% sure it would have been the right moment to confess you’d been harboring a few insecurities of your own but your fight-flight-freeze response was already answering on your behalf, making you freeze on the spot.

“Spencer…”

“You don’t think I can?!” he inquired, still convinced his lack of experience was the motivation behind any episode of miscommunication.

“NO! It’s not about you,” you responded in a hurry, hugging him as he was still seated on the couch. “Or maybe it is… ” you gestured to your whole figure, “I guess I’m a bit worried this isn’t what—”

Spencer wrapped you in an equally sweet hug, his chin dimple pressed on your abdomen. “This is soft,” his hands ran to the back of your knees, trailing up, “it’s so soft I’ve got only one thing in mind every time you hug me and I have to stop myself…”

He stopped talking mid-sentence when you guided his palms over your chest and he finally laughed, fascinated by the feeling of your breasts through the shirt.

If he was so happy at the idea you were starving for his touch and was clearly eager to reciprocate it was time to consider the strong possibility he wasn’t just settling for less. “Do you really—”

“Yes!” he replied, enthusiastically. “But I could use a few hints, you know.”

You knew. “May I sit on your lap, kind sir?”

The ‘are you even serious?’ pout on his face deserved an award; now you were both allowed to act silly without the slightest concern one of you was making fun of the other, high on the intoxicating concept of true intimacy.

You positioned yourself so that you were seated on his groin, your back flat on his chest and your head nestled in the crook of his neck, thanking Mother Nature for the existence of refractory periods. Not that it was necessary, but Spencer hooked his left forearm around your waist to secure you as his tongue glided over the soft skin behind your ear. “How do I start?”

“Step one: make some space,” you tipped him.

He gulped loudly and began to caress your knee, ghosting his fingers along the thigh-bone. You shivered in anticipation and when he tried to reach for your inner thigh you spread your legs apart; he flattened his palm, gripping on your muscles and rubbing back and forth - still keeping some distance from your most delicate spots.

You turned to offer him your lips. “Tease me… up and down, light touches.”

He did as he was told. When he ran the back of his hand over your mound you whimpered, the oversensitivity being too much to bear combined with the mind-blowing taste of his mouth over yours.

“Isn’t it frustrating for you?” he managed to articulate in between kisses and you rocked your hips against him.

You could already feel the familiar and insistent throbbing, accentuated by the fact that delayed gratification was a real pain; you were dying for him to placate the fire his hard cock had sparked in you, so you grabbed his wrist and guided it over your stomach, down the front of your panties.

He gasped at the feeling of your tender flesh, the curly hair, the dampness - too many sensory inputs to process all at once. “You’re so… warm?”

“Core body temperature is higher than the temperature of the skin,” you reminded him.

“So warm,” he kept repeating, basic biology facts lost on him because his brain seemed to have switched off.

His palm grazed over your folds and your legs fell further open to give him better access; you stroked his left forearm and tilted your head back. “Only two fingers now, Spence… up and down. But don’t go straight for—”

You tensed when his fingertips danced on your clit and he gripped you even tighter. “Sorry,” he mumbled, but the sensation was so good you could only smile.

“If you plan to go there it’s left and right. And draw a few circles around, big and small...” you explained before words turned into muffled moans as he put your suggestions into actions.

You were still grinding on his lap, your back glued to his chest, and he took advantage of the proximity to trap your earlobe between his teeth, sucking lightly at each change of the pattern he was tracing.

You squeezed his wrist when the flame inside of you grew fiercer. “You can slip your finger in if you want.”

Spencer let go of your earlobe and paused. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” you admitted, the weight of your secret vanishing in the air like a puff of smoke.

He sighed and shifted underneath you; just as you were ready to tell him he didn’t have to if he wasn’t comfortable with the idea he slid his middle finger past your entrance and you shuddered in his embrace. His hands were elegant, veiny, and his slender digits made for playing piano or reaching your hidden crevices - you had no doubts about it, but judging by how he was sitting still he had more than one question regarding what to do with them.

“How do I feel? Spence...?”

Even if you couldn’t really see his face, you knew he had a confused-slash-excited look on. “Hot… and wet, I never thought—”

“You like it?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?!” he asked in the cutest high-pitched tone and you laughed, making you both wince at the sudden movement.

All the words in any existent language put together couldn’t describe the amount of affection you had for him. “I like it, Spence,” you hummed, “and it would be even better if you tried curling your fin— FUCK!”

Spencer wasn’t one to waste time once he was given a specific instruction.

He pushed his finger forward and curled it as you said, gliding in and out to slowly familiarize himself with the different textures of your inner walls. He adopted a very empirical approach, experimenting several techniques based on what he’d learned not so long before, while you whimpered and moaned his name; he was moaning, too, and so prettily you couldn’t control yourself.

“Spence, I need more…”

He nipped at your jaw, his long hair tickling your cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I promise”, you panted, almost out of breath.

When he slipped a second finger in you realized that his arm wrapped around your waist was the only thing still keeping you in place: your legs were giving up on you, your hips swayed to let Spencer’s fingers plunge deeper as your back arched and your fists closed around his clothes. He was pumping relentlessly, overwhelmed by your wetness and the way you were taking him inside like he was a missing part of your own body; he tried to reach for your mouth and you turned to grasp the nape of his neck.

“Your hands are perfect,” you whined, “you are perfect…”

He huffed, his heart pounding fast. “Are you…?”

“Please... make me come, Spence,” you begged him in a whisper.

He pressed his thumb on your clit and started alternating between rough circling motions and the upward movement of his fingers, as you bucked your hips at a frantic pace; your thighs muscles contracted, you clenched around him and you ears plugged as you climaxed - something that had never happened to you before.

You tugged at his hair and screamed his name, before settling against his body once the tension faded.

He kept his fingers inside and he cuddled you throughout the aftermath of your orgasm, planting butterfly kisses wherever his mouth could reach and cradling you like his only mission in life was making you feel safe and protected.

Your self-consciousness awoke first, despite the rush of feel-good hormones flowing in your bloodstream.

“Am I crushing you…?” you mumbled, and he grunted as you wriggled free to lean forward and pick up the towel from the floor.

He stared at his wet fingers with a pensive frown, then he wiped them clean and turned to face you - now seated on the couch with your legs across his and your forearm rested on his shoulder, so that you could play with his curls.

“Doctor, you deserve a gold star for your performance.”

He smiled and lowered his gaze for a second. “I’m very good at following instructions.”

“You’re not bad at improvising, either,” you pointed out, “the thing you did with your thumb…?”

“I figured it was only a matter of combining the exact pressure and the right angle. Technically speaking—”

“Spencer?!” you cut him off, before he could lose himself in his own rambling. “Thank you,” you added, kissing him lightly on his lips before you stood up to fix your panties and trousers. “You can tell me all about the mechanics behind one of the best orgasms of my life on our way.”

“Nosferatu. First Halloween together…?” you elaborated when he looked at you in total confusion. “You’ve changed your mind.”

He shifted on the couch, his hazel eyes fixed on you. “Is that okay?”

This time you looked at him with your best ‘is ice cream cold?’ frown: you wanted to spend eternity with him, not just an hour or two more. You climbed into his lap and tangled your fingers in his hair while he cupped your breasts.

“What if I get…? I mean... again?!”

“Well, it’s not going to happen right now, Professor!!" you snorted, and his giggle sounded like celestial music. "But don’t worry, we’ve got the whole night."

NB: I'm not using my regular taglist for Spencer Reid smut fics but I'm obviously tagging only the users who sent a request. If you wish to be added you can send me an ask or leave a comment below with the request to be added.

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

Could you do a bully Jungkook? Similar to Tae’s with the reader, but more Yandere? Also maybe Jungkook gets a lil more violent and reader really likes it? Pls🥺🖤🖤🖤

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐫𝐭:

pairing: yandere bully! jungkook x f. reader

genre: non-idol au || smut || fluff maybe if you squint real hard || yandere au ||

summary: you; jungkook’s perfect work of art

word count: 6.8k

tags/ warnings: yandere! jungkook, jealous jk, he actually turned out way meaner than i’d meant for him to be :’), obsession, graphic mentions of murder, stalking, non consensual photography, jungkook can’t keep his hands to himself, multiple smut scenes that include: toys (vibrator), edging, hair pulling, cum denial, very very dub-con (reader never specifically gives consent), oral (m. receiving), facial, degradation, humiliation, but reader is really into it, her panties get all wet when he’s a little mean, pussy stepping, lots of love bites, teasing in public + public bathroom sex, mild breast play, panties in the mouth, ass and pussy spanking, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), creampie, multiple orgasms, cum play, somnophilia, face slapping, fingers in vagina but not fingering, cum kink?

notes: yes! it’s uuhh a lot of smut :D if there are mistakes no there aren’t!

rules for requests can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

“Please Kookie” you mutter against Jungkook’s knee, cheek pressed against his legs as another wave of pleasure wracks through your body— your arms tightening around his calf. Each pulsing vibration from the toy nested between your walls pushing your hips forwards, panty clad cunt rubbing painfully against the wooden floor as you chase release.

Jungkook looks down at you from where he’s sat on the couch, what you can only describe as a sadistic smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The lip ring you liked so much glistening pretty in the orange lamplight of the dimly lit living room of Jungkook’s apartment.

And you remember the day he’d walked into class, having not seen each other for a couple of days. You hadn’t been able to keep your eyes off his lips, and of course that gave Jungkook the perfect excuse to be a little mean; to fuck you like he had no regard for your own pleasure, and you remember how bruising the kiss had been. How the cool metal of his lip ring had glistened with both your saliva as he shoved his tongue into your mouth.

Jungkook pulls his phone from the back pocket of his jeans, and you push yourself up from where you’d been kneeling to grab it. Because you knew what he planned to do, and the unnerving smile he was giving you did nothing to reassure the shake in your legs; having been edged for 2 hours you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Something akin to a squeak slips off your tongue as Jungkook shoves your body to the ground, hand colliding with the top of your head until you’re carrying the weight of your body on your arms.

He wonders what expression you’re making. Were you glaring up at him for being an ass? Were you going to cry? He might let you have a taste of his cock if he were to see a few tears. Though he knows you’re not fond of him shoving his dick so far down your throat until your tapping his thighs to let you have a breather, gagging on his length until he shoots his load onto your tongue— watching as he makes you hold it until it’s dripping down your chin, soaking your tits in his release.

His eyes flit to your bare chest, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he eyes the hickeys that litter your body like you were his own personal canvas. Deep reds looking ever so pretty on your skin, like roses had bloomed under each mean nip of his teeth and tongue lathing your skin with his spit. Ruby roses that were complimented with a few more purple love bites where Jungkook just couldn’t help sinking his teeth into your plush skin; thighs so supple and alluring that he couldn’t help but bury his face between them.

“Don’t even fucking think about it” he sneers, and your thighs snap shut as he toys around with the vibrators settings from his phone. He watches as your mouth falls open, breathy moan being ripped from your throat, so close to relief only for Jungkook to stop the delicious pulse of pleasure.

Your body shakes, so close to such sweet release. You meet Jungkook’s gaze, bottom lip jutting out as you look up at him, eyebrows furrowing in the way he knows that your pretty little tears were on the way.

“Poor thing” he mocks, turning the toy back on, “Remember, no cumming”

“I can’t—“ you whine, hand flying between your legs, only pushing the vibrator deeper between your walls.

“That’s what you get for fucking ruining my pants with your drool. You’re gross you know that?” he laughs, “So cock drunk all the time, that’s all your dumb little brain can think of right? I don’t even know how you got into uni”

“M’ not gross, not dumb” you shudder, thighs clenched so tight you feel the vibration on your clit, dangerously teetering on the edge of your orgasm. Pearly tears gather on your waterline and Jungkook’s head tips back in a hearty groan.

“No?” he frowns and you would have believed the faux concern if it weren’t for the clear elation in his eyes, “Not my dumb little baby?”

You blink up at him, thigh twitching as he stops the vibrator, “No” you whisper, shaking your head slightly.

Jungkook laughs at you. A full belly laugh, scooting his body forwards towards the edge of the couch, balancing his elbows on his knees he bends down.

Neither of you say anything, you didn’t know what to say and Jungkook seemed to be figuring out what he wanted to do with you.

“Come here, pretty” he doesn’t give you time to respond, hand tangling in your hair as he tugs you across the floor between his thighs.

“Kookie, you know i don’t like—“ voice muffled by the hand that clamps over your mouth. Jungkook’s grip tightens on your hair, tugging your face closer to his cock, evident bulge in his sweatpants.

“Wanna make Kookie feel good, yeah?” he whispers, gentle kiss being placed over his hand where your lips would be.

His gaze meets your own, head tilting in question as you give him a curt nod. Heart squeezing in guilt at the thought of denying Jungkook the pleasure he so wanted.

“Good girl” he falls back on the couch, “come on then”

Your fingers clasp onto the waist band of his sweatpants, watching as he wets his lips; heady gaze set on your face as you free his cock from the confines of his underwear. You swallow thickly, breath shuddering as you watch the girthy length slap lewdly against Jungkook’s stomach; pearly bead of precum soaking into the fabric of his hoodie.

“We don’t have all day” Jungkook grunts, watching your mouth fall open as he presses a foot against your covered pussy; your hips canting forwards— rutting against the heel of his foot.

“You really are like a dumb fucking puppy” Jungkook laughs, hands finding their favourite place to be; tangled in your hair as he guides your face towards his cock.

You kiss the tip before Jungkook pries your lips open, uncaring if you were ready or not as he pushes your head down his length until the head of his length pushes into your throat.

You splutter, throat constricting around the head of Jungkook’s length; though he doesn’t mind, head tipping back as a jolt of pleasure wracks through his body.

You swallow, rewarded with a groan from Jungkook but you don’t have long to bask in the fact that you’d been the one to pull that out of him as his fingers tighten their hold, squeak of pain muffled around Jungkook’s length as he pulls your head up— tip remaining heavy on your tongue.

Your saliva drips down his length, your hands running down his cock before he’s shoving your head back down.

Jungkook thrusts up into your mouth, head fallen against the back of the couch as he pushes his length down your throat. “My little cocksleeve” he moans, particularly hard thrust causing you to gag around him.

“Gonna cum all over your face, don’t deserve it in that greedy little pussy” he rolls his hips, thighs tensing as your fingers dig into the thick muscle.

He looks down at you when he hears a snivel, watching as pretty little tears cascade down your cheeks like precious little diamonds.

“You don’t like that do you?” he snickers, shoving your head until your lips close around the hilt of his dick, drool dripping down to his balls. He feels your tongue lave up his length, cheeks hollowing as you try and pull an orgasm out of him.

“Want me to cum in your cunt, doll?” he asks, grip so tight in your hair that you find it hard to nod around his length, “No?” he taunts, watching as another wave of tears tumble down your cheeks.

He pulls your mouth from his length, free hand tugging on his spit slicked cock.

“Open your mouth” He yanks your hair so your head tilts up, cocky smile tugging at the corners of his lips when your tongue falls out of your mouth.

He runs his hand up his length once more before he’s painting your face white, most falls over your forehead, whine of annoyance bubbling up your throat as he slaps his softening cock over your tongue. You lick your lips, tasting his cum as you use your fingers to gather a glop of his seed, sucking it off them as he tucks his cock back into his sweats.

“Let’s go eat” Jungkook stands up, raising an eyebrow as you remain half naked on his living room floor.

Your fingers skim over your neck, “Can I at least cover your hickeys up, it looks like i’ve been mauled” you push yourself to stand, legs a little shaky, and you feel the ache of not having your own orgasm as you find yourself in the large mirror on the adjacent side of the room.

“Does it look like I care? Hurry up before I leave you here” he tuts, grabbing his jacket from the the door, “I’ll fucking pay, just hurry up”

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You and Jungkook had met at the start of uni. Both attending the same art and design class, he’d been a year older— taking a year out after high school to explore himself more before he dedicated the next 3 years to his academics again. Developing his own art style and dabbling in photography, though he always knew he wanted to go down the design route.

You’d both gone out for drinks with your new little lecture group after the introduction day, a way for you all to get to know each other better, as you’ll be spending then next few years in one another’s company.

You don’t remember much from that night, a few too many shots of alcohol you’d never heard the name of being sent to your table that you have no idea how you even made it back to your uni accommodation. Waking up with a splitting headache and a dead phone, you’d asked one of the girls you’d gotten close with if maybe she’d walked home with you, though she seemed just as clueless as you did.

And you never felt comfortable enough around the rest of the class to ask if they knew how you’d managed to get home safe so late on a Friday night.

It hadn’t been until the first assignment was given that you and Jungkook had started talking.

You knew of his name, a mutual friend of you both, the one girl you’d connected best with during the first few classes, who had the biggest crush on him. Blabbing about him all the time when the two of you would go out for lunch before class.

Though you’d never actually spoken to the man. He seemed polite, curious in a way you found cute and he asked all the same questions you had so you never had to work up the nerve to ask in front of your small group of call mates either. There were only 6 of you in the class, all a lot older than you, your friend and Jungkook. And maybe that’s why you hadn’t formed much of a connection with them.

Your first assignment had been the perfect excuse for your new friend to spend the afternoon with her new crush, inviting him along with you to a museum where you’d be looking for a specific artist to study.

The issue was, she was prone to being late. You’d been stood outside the museum by yourself, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, chatter muffled as you pay attention to the museums website— working out a floor plan so you could all make it round the exhibits before the place closed in a few hours.

You hadn’t noticed Jungkook wander up the stairs, eyes raking over your body.

You looked so pretty, stood there in the cutest little skirt he’d ever seen— it would be ever so easy to just flip it over your hips, and ever so easy to slip your panties to the side and make everyone stood outside the museum watch him pound into your tight little cunt.

He wonders how long it would take him to make you his. He’d had his eyes on you the minute you’d crept into the art studio a couple of weeks ago. Each day between classes feeling like too much time away from you that he started getting to see you in other ways.

It had started with him following you back to your uni accommodation, simply checking you were okay on your way home after class. Camera zoomed in just enough that he was able to catch the passcode into your building.

Taking your picture had become his favourite hobby. Watching you just live day to day. Photos of you in the supermarket, the fruit vibrant but you stood out the most, so effortlessly ethereal that he didn’t know if he wanted to crawl into your skin or keep you as his pretty little pet that he showed off to the world.

He liked taking pictures of you when you visited the pool, it had taken hours before you’d been comfortable enough to shuck off the large shirt, the cutest little two piece he’d ever seen hugging your body so effortlessly, those pictures being kept in a special folder for when his cock strained in his pants and he needed a quick release.

Photos had turned into daydreams. He wonders what you’d sound like, body caged with his own, painted red by his mouth as he sucks his claim into your skin.

Your body the perfect canvas for him to explore.

He’d learn every crevice of your body. Worship each inch of skin that he could get his lips on before fucking you like nothing more than a common whore who needed to learn their place. Oh the joy it would bring him, luring such a delicate, pretty little thing into his hold before breaking you down.

He wonders if you like it rough. If you’d let him chuck you over his lap as he slaps both your ass cheeks. You wouldn’t have done anything wrong, too pure and perfect to be his little brat. But he’d spank you anyways, maybe going as far to spank your needy cunt as well until you came from that alone.

His fantasies were endless as he watched over you.

Jungkook shoves your shoulders, your eyes widening in shock as you stumble forwards.

Your head whips around, meeting Jungkook’s cheeky grin. You open your mouth, only choosing to close it when you realise you didn’t know what to say to him.

“Where’s your friend?” he asks, watching you shrug.

“Not sure. She’s usually late” you give him a half-hearted smile.

“I don’t think we’ve probably introduced ourselves” he rocks on his feet, “I’m Jungkook” he outstretches his hand, ready for you to shake.

You look at it for a second, “I know. I’m Y/n” you take his hand, eyebrows furrowing at his harsh grip. You go to pull your hand away, Jungkook holding it a little longer than necessary, your fingers going lax in his grip. And you release a breath you never knew you were holding when he finally lets go.

“Sorry I’m late!” your friend calls out, and you thank your lucky stars that she’d shown up. Jungkook’s whole aura seeming to brighten as he gives her an easy smile.

“It’s fine” he waves her off, “Ready to go inside?”

You trail behind the two of them as they wander towards the entrance. You tug on the hem of your friend’s jumper, frown tugging at your lips as she looks at you with furrowed brows.

“What?” she whispers, and you swallow thickly at her tone.

“I thought we could go upstairs first, they have some work by—“

“No” she cuts you off, “Let’s just go this way” she shrugs your fingers off her jumper, turning towards Jungkook who simply looks between the two of you.

“Sorry, she can be a little bit of a control freak sometimes” she giggles, so sweet that it tastes tangy on your tongue— off remark itching at your brain the wrong way. Though you say nothing. What could you do? Accuse her of being weird in-front of Jungkook— surely he’d think you were just causing a scene.

You stay quite after that, watching as your friend completely ignores your existence. Hands running over Jungkook’s arm, deprecating comments pointed in your direction when she thinks you’re out of ear shot.

You choose to ignore her, deciding that maybe you needed a new friend if this was how she was going to act around you.

It had been hard, moving away from home alone, not knowing anyone in the course you were taking— she’d been your little escape. An easy friend who didn’t seem to mind that you were a little awkward socially, though her comments to Jungkook seemed to depict another picture.

At some point you’d lost the two of them. Wandering around the exhibits you had wanted to see before you’s followed the two of them round like a lost puppy, acting like a third wheel when the two of them hadn’t had more than a few conversations before today.

You let out what can only be described as a squeak when a heavy hand falls on your shoulder.

You look behind you, head tilting up to meet Jungkook’s hard gaze. You blink, heart still hammering against your rib cage from the little scare he’d given you.

“Naughty thing, wandering out of my sight” he places his other hand on your shoulder.

You swallow, “Sorry?” is all you manage before Jungkook is tugging you into his chest.

One of his arms snake around your shoulders, holding you in place as his other hand wanders down your body.

“Where’s—“ you’re cut off by Jungkook’s fingers deftly pressing against your panty covered clit, your thighs twitching as Jungkook kicks your legs open a little wider.

“Did I say you could wander off?” he rests his cheek against the top of your head.

You hesitantly shake your head, mind racing a mile a minute as you try and catch up with what was happening.

You’d just met Jungkook formally, mind reeling at how familiar he was acting.

Your hand shoots to cover your mouth as Jungkook’s hand rains down a slap over your covered cunt. Your free hand shoots to grab his wrist, aware he was planning to unleash another mean slap against your pussy.

“Jungkook?” you whisper, aware that other people may start to wander into this part of the exhibit any moment.

“hmm?” he hums, arm moving to tilt your head up to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing?” your voice quivers, fingers loosening their grip on his wrist as he leans down, lips skimming against the sensitive skin of your neck.

Your breath stutters as you feel his teeth graze the skin at the back of your shoulder, pulling your jumper down just enough to expose your bare skin, his for the taking.

He notices the lack of bra, deep groan rumbling through his chest as you feel the vibration against your back.

Your mouth tips open as he leave a wet kiss against your skin, hand that had been holding your face slowly trailing down your body until it toys with the hem of your jumper. Cold fingers grazing the slither of skin on show before they’re gliding over your bare stomach, prickly goosebumps left in the wake of his hands.

You feel the tips of his fingers brush the underside of your boob, gently tracing the curve as his tongue peeks out— tasting your skin.

You cover your mouth with your hand, thighs clenching shut as he runs a finger over your covered folds. You feel his teeth nip at your shoulder, muffled whine vibrating into your palm as Jungkook pinches one of your nipples.

With one last mean slap to your cunt, resulting in a soft moan from you, Jungkook steps away from you. Hands retreating from under your shirt, leaving you cold— yearning for his warmth as you try and fall back into his chest. Only to be met with thin air.

“Remember” he starts, causing your head to snap towards where he stands, by your side with nothing more than an inch of space between you, “No more running out of my sight. Got it?”

Your eyes flit across his side profile, eyebrow piercing catching the fluorescent lights of the open hall, glinting like a little speck of star dust on his face. You blink slowly, mind slowly processing his words, and maybe if you had the confidence you’d have told him to fuck off.

But you don’t.

Because his tone was final. You gathered that much and you weren’t stupid enough to try and aggravate him.

“Got it?” he repeats, head turning towards you. Your eyes meet, throat dry as you nod, eyes locked on the abyss in his almost black eyes— an endless pool of nothing that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. What lay beyond, you’re unsure; but if you knew anything, it was that Jungkook was trouble.

“Good” he hums, turning back to the painting before the both of you.

“Ah!” your friends shrill voice cuts off the silence, shattering the tense atmosphere, and suddenly your mind was clouded with annoyance rather than the chill of Jungkook’s cold stare, “There you are”

She completely ignores you, skipping towards Jungkook’s side.

“Must have wandered off without realising. I found Y/n though” he grins, turning towards you. You who can only manage a tight lipped smile towards your friend.

“I see” she murmurs, eyes trailing towards the slowly growing purple mark on the back of your shoulder— Jungkook having left the neckline askew when he’d back away from you.

“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend” she comments and your eyes widen.

“I don’t?” your eyebrows furrow, unaware of where she could have gotten that assumption from.

“Didn’t think you were one for hook ups then” he giggles, “That’s a little whorish, don’t you think?”

She looks up at Jungkook, as if asking for some sick approval from him. She doesn’t seem to notice how his jaw tightens. And neither do you, too busy trying to get a look at the hickey on the back of your shoulder.

Your cheeks flush red as you gather it was Jungkook’s doing, and you feel some sort of relief your friend wasn’t a mind-reader. She’d be absolutely crushed if she found out the boy she really liked had been giving you hickeys in the abstract art exhibit; especially since she’d been the one to ask him to join the two of you.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Jungkook had walked you back to your accommodation that day, your friend living in the quarters across the street from you, though Jungkook had had to go another way home after making sure you were safely inside your building to the displeasure of your friend.

You didn’t have his number, so you hadn’t been able to thank him over text. Instead choosing to stop by a convenience store on the way to class a few days later, a small gesture of thanks that you hoped he appreciated. He hadn’t said thank you, but he hadn’t exactly being rude and pushed you away either so you took it as a win.

Your friend hadn’t shown up to lecture that day. And although it had become common habit for a lot of your classmates to start skipping, she’d made it a point that she wouldn’t miss a day if it meant she could see Jungkook’s handsome face.

You’d texted her after class, hoping maybe she was just sick and you could fill her in on what she’d missed; though it hadn’t been much. Only a reminder that your first graded assignment was due in a couple of weeks where media selection was important along with the format of your work.

The walk back to your room hadn’t been pleasant. Lurking shadows following you like the plague. It was strange that even with what you assume to be hundreds of people mindlessly roaming the streets, you could feel a pair of eyes following your ever move. Every corner you turned, unease would trickle down your spine.

You’d been surprised when you’d gotten back to your room, two police officers stood outside your door. And you think maybe your heart stops beating, clawing it’s way up your throat as they ask to escort you to the nearby station for questioning.

Something about your friend. You hadn’t been able to hear exactly what they needed, voices garbled like they were underwater as you’d just dumbly nodded as their lips moved— letting them lead you to the flashy police car parked down the road.

You turn towards Jungkook as he takes a seat beside you in the police station. Your fingers fidget with the hem of your sweater, leg bouncing anxiously as you both wait for an assigned officer to come into the questioning room.

It was cold. Mostly made of concrete and if it weren’t for the little red light blinking in the corner of the room, you might have started balling your eyes by now. Anxiety spiking as seconds feel as though they stretch on for hours.

Jungkook’s hand is heavy as he places it over your thigh, “Fucking annoying” he grunt and you whisper an apology, back straightening as the door opens.

“Ah you’re both here” the officer takes a seat, manilla folder dropped onto the table between the three of you.

You’re blinking up at the officer and next thing you know your face is being pushed into the mirror of the police station’s bathrooms.

Jungkook careless as he tugs your pants down your thighs, hands roaming over your ass cheeks.

“Jungkook?” you ask, unsure exactly how you’d gotten here. The last hour nothing more than a swirl of colours that may have been mesmerising if they had been on a canvas, but it had only thrown you off balance and now you find yourself alone; with Jungkook again.

“Gonna make you feel better, baby. She wasn’t worth your time anyways, probably better off dead than spewing shit like she was the other day” he runs a hand over your cunt, easy smile on his face as he feels them dampen under his touch.

“I don’t think—“ you’re cut off as he presses down on your clit. Pressure just right that you feel numbing pleasure crawl down your body until you’re leaking another wad of slick into your underwear.

“Shhh” he hushes, “Kookie’s gonna make both of us feel real good, got it?” he asks, wet kiss being pressed over the fading love bite as your nod. A little too dazed with the added pressure on your clit to fully understand what he could be implying.

He thinks you look prettiest like this, eyes red and face a little blotchy, though he thinks you’d wasted your tears of a entitled piece of shit that clearly didn’t know how to keep her mouth shut.

So Jungkook did the only reasonable thing he could think to do. And he thinks maybe her shrill cries were a tiny bit more bearable than her grating voice.

It had been amusing, watching her face twist in an unexplainable amount of pain. Bones treated like twigs under his boot as he mercilessly crushed them into fine powder, stained red with her own blood.

Jungkook fingers hook into the waste band of your panties, uncaring as he rips them from your hips. Your mouth falls open in protest only the next moment you’re gagging on them as he shoves them inside your mouth.

“Whores don’t need to talk” he grunts, pushing his own sweats down around his ankles.

Jungkook doesn’t bother fingering you open before he’s pushing in raw, head tipping backwards as your walls pull him in. He thinks he can cum from this alone; your walls rhythmically clenching around his length as he slowly pushes into you. Basking in the soft warmth.

His pelvis meets your ass, hips circling slowly as your fingers grasp the edge of the counter.

Your eyes brim with tears at the stretch, thighs barely keeping you up, and if it weren’t for the harsh grip Jungkook had on your hips you doubted you’d be able to stand alone.

And all Jungkook can think about is how pretty you’ll be, hand-shaped bruises on your hips and pussy painted white with his cum.

He doesn’t give you any sort of warning before he’s pulling out, head still nestled between your walls before he’s snapping his hips forward.

He briefly wonders if everyone outside can hear the lewd squelch of your cunt creaming around his cock, folds creamy white each time he pulls out only to punch back into you.

You drool around your panties, moans muffled by cotton. Plush clouds muffling your ears of Jungkook’s unabashed moans as you feel yourself slowly climb towards your peak.

Jungkook never lets up on his thrusts, hand travelling from your hips up your body until he’s pushing you flat against the counter from the back of your neck.

Your hips start to feel sore as they bash against the marble counter with each thrust into you, Jungkook making sure he’s balls deep inside of you.

It’s when a finger starts to draw tight circles on your clit, Jungkook has to wrap an arm around your waist as to not have you topple over onto the grimy floor.

“Cum for me” he grunts, thrusts turning jittery as he slowly reaches his own end.

Your eyes flit up to get a look at yourself in the mirror, face a little flushed, hips red from Jungkook’s hands. Those same hands that flick at your clit, unrelenting as he continues to snap his hips into you.

Your eyes squeeze shut, thighs starting to shake as you reach your peek. Orgasm wracking through your body in heavy waves as Jungkook pushes you through it. Hips continuing to smack against your ass.

His fingers stop flicking at your clit when you start to snivel, bordering overstimulation as his cock twitches between your sodden walls.

Your breath hitches when you feel his warm cum flood your insides, painting you his from the inside. You feel each spurt of cum as he gives you another shallow thrust, pushing it further into your soiled pussy before he’s pulling out.

Your body shakes in the aftershock of your orgasm, fingers prying your ruined underwear from between your lips as you watch Jungkook pull his sweats back up from around his ankles.

You feel his cum dribbles out of your hole, thick globs of white painting your thighs as Jungkook runs his hands over your ass.

You watch him raise his hand, hearing it before you feel the prickly pain sear across your skin from the impact of his hand.

“See you in a few days” he waves over his shoulder before stalking across the bathroom, unlocking the door and leaving you to slouch against the counter.

You watch the door click shut through the mirror. Heart rate turning mellow as your body starts to calm down.

You reach back, fingers gathering up Jungkook’s cum onto your fingers before you’re shoving them into your mouth.

You make eye contact with yourself in the mirror, wobbly smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you let the feeling of being used and left sink in.

And the fucked up thing was, you liked it.

Arousal starting to seep out of your cunt at the thought of Jungkook fucking you like his own personal fleshlight in the dingy police station bathrooms.

Your hand flies between your legs, holding it over your pussy as your thighs clench— clit pulsing in need, that you start to rut against the palm of your hand until you’re shaking with another orgasm.

You push whatever was left of Jungkook’s seed back into you, hole clenching to keep any more from leaking out of you as you shakily stand, trying to fix your hair a little in the mirror before you’re tugging your pants back up your legs; panties long forgotten in the trash.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You saw a lot more of Jungkook after that.

He’d joined the textiles club your professor had suggested to the class at the start of the semester. Work desk conveniently shared with you.

He’d started dragging you along with him and his group of friends when they’d go out on Fridays.

A new restaurant each week.

All of his friends were nice.

Too nice in Jungkook’s opinion.

He hadn’t liked it when Hoseok had started being a little too touchy. Hands gently brushing over your shoulders, hugs whenever he pleased. And Jungkook had finally lost it when he’d arrived a little late one evening, stumbling in on the scene of Hoseok feeding you.

Jungkook had seen red.

And so he painted an abandoned warehouse walls with Hoseok’s blood until he was begging for mercy. Only Jungkook had never been one to forgive an forget— making sure to kick Hoseok’s face in, the man unrecognisable before he’d finished him off.

Jungkook didn’t like the way Jimin and Taehyung liked to take you out to galleries on the weekends. They weren’t even fucking art students why would they care? And he absolutely hated that neither of them even thought to invite him along. And so he had to trail behind, making sure neither of them touched you.

He hadn’t been too happy when the both of them had held your hands.

So he cut them off, gagging them with their own filthy fingers so he wouldn’t have to listen to them scream as he played with their bodies a little. Practice for any future projects.

Jungkook didn’t like that Yoongi sat so close to you at meal times. That was Jungkook’s seat and no one else’s.

Yoongi suffered a similar fate to Hoseok, only Jungkook made sure that this time Yoongi felt the pain of being a whore.

Jungkook hated that Namjoon talked to you. He hated that the two of you could talk for hours and Jungkook would just have to sit and listen, left out when he should be the only one to hear your sweet little voice. The perfect melody.

So naturally, Jungkook skinned Namjoon.

Jungkook despised that Jin even had the guts to even look at you.

So he gutted him alive and fed his organs to the strays that lived on the outskirts of the city.

Slowly, you were back to just Jungkook.

Jungkook’s pretty little doll.

Neither of you ate out at restaurants anymore, apparently exiled from the old group according to Jungkook.

Two strays left to bask in one another’s company. Two outcasts that had nothing but each other.

You spent most of your time at Jungkook’s apartment. Shirt tugged over your head the moment the door to his apartment closed.

Thrown over his bed as you lay in nothing but your underwear. Your body littered with teeth marks, reds blossoming over your chest like the flowers he kept on the window sills. Littered anywhere his mouth deemed fit.

Your own body moulded into his own canvas.

You’d lay there, eyes blinking open sleepily as you’d hear the camera shutter. Jungkook’s face covered as your eyes squeeze shut at the flash.

You weren’t sure how long you’ve known Jungkook. Every day just slowly melting in one as you wake up, go to class together, go home together.

You lived more at Jungkook’s apartment than you did your uni place. Unsure when so many of your clothes had mixed with Jungkook’s in his closet.

Most mornings you woke up with Jungkook buried within you, hard cock nestled so far between your walls that all you can do is lay there. Hands gripping onto his biceps as he rocks into you.

You always try your best to keep his cum plugged inside of you on those days, something so… deliciously wrong about feeling what Jungkook had left behind inside you all day.

“Are you fucking stupid” your head jerks to the right as he lands a harsh slap on your cheek.

“No” you whisper, thighs clenching and Jungkook laughs.

“You’re fucked up you know that?” he sneers, pulling your face until his lips brush over your own, “Getting your panties wet because I’m a little rough with you”

“S’ not wet” you try to argue but both you and Jungkook know it’s a lie.

“No?” he asks, and you shake your head. “So if I did this it wouldn’t feel good?” he presses his foot between your thighs.

You go to close your legs, stopping when Jungkook tuts. You look up at him, unsure what to do as he runs his foot over your covered cunt.

“Get yourself off then” he grunts, and your hips roll upwards, clit nudging against the heel of his foot.

You rut your hips upwards, a lick of shame fizzling down your spine as you realise you’re getting yourself off against Jungkook’s foot, on his kitchen floor.

Your hands grab onto one of your bare breasts, grasp harsh as your hips continue to roll upwards. Chasing a release that was so close.

You feel Jungkook’s eyes on you, a high pitched moan tumbling off your tongue as you reach your peak. Arms shaking as you feel pleasure pulse throughout your body.

“Dumb little girl” Jungkook coos, dropping to the floor on his knees.

You fall flat against the tiles, letting Jungkook spread your thighs, pushing his sweats down just enough for him to pull his cock out.

He pulls your panties down your thighs, thrown somewhere on the floor for you to pick up later.

Your hips cant upwards when he runs the head of his length through your slit; gathering your arousal before he’s dragging it down his length.

You lay still as he breaches your entrance, dribble of your cum dripping to the floor as he bottoms out.

It’s not often Jungkook allows you to adjust, though it seems he wants to feel your warm walls as he barely pulls out before thrusting gently back into you.

“Faster Kookie” you whine, fingers gently circling your clit.

Jungkook scoffs, “You really are fucking stupid if you think you’re allowed to tell me what to do”

Jungkook towers over you, hands bracing himself on each side of your head before he pulls his hips backwards, breath being punched out of you as he snaps his hips forwards.

You’re pushed up the tile floor with each thrust, whiny little ‘ahs’ falling in quick succession, your hands having no where to hold but your own tits that bounced with each harsh thrust.

“Fucking fast enough for you?” Jungkook grunts, arms steady as he bends to brush his lips against the clear skin of your collar bone.

You know what’s coming before Jungkook bites down into your skin. Your arms wrap around his neck, thighs clamping around his hips as he continues to drill into you; his moans rivalled by the squelching of your cunt.

You feel your slick dribble out of your hole each time Jungkook thrusts into you, you’re arousal wetting his balls as they slap against your ass.

“Gonna cum” he grunts, tongue licking over the fresh set of teeth marks just under your collarbones.

Your walls clench around him as you approach your own release, tipping so fast over the edge you see white when he tugs harshly at your hair.

You’re unsure how long you’re out of it for, Jungkook’s groans still muffled like cotton candy had been stuffed into your ears. Your cunt hyperaware of each sloppy thrust Jungkook takes, twitch evident before you feel him flood your insides.

You think you tumble into a third orgasm as you feel Jungkook fill you with his cum. So much that it starts to leak out of you when he pulls out slowly.

You feel tears brim your eyes as you feel rivulets of his and your cum seep out of you when he pulls out fully. Your fingers quick to stuff the concoction back into your tight pussy as Jungkook takes a heaving breath.

Jungkook doesn’t mind you as you lay on the floor with three fingers stuff inside your pussy. Rummaging around for his camera somewhere in the living room.

He pries your fingers away from your hole, not without complaint from you. Pearly little tears glazing your cheeks clear as he spreads your legs. Messy folds the perfect picture.

He lets you stuff your fingers back into your hole once he’s done, stepping over you as he starts to prepare dinner.

And later he’d print out his new photos, an empty page perfect for his new additions.

Every page filled with you over the years that he’s loved you; his perfect work of art.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts jungkook #bts angst #jungkook fanfic #taehyung #yoongi fic #bts #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #bts yandere #yandere jungkook #bts non idol au #bts requests #bts au

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Demon Lord, Orcus

[Sponsored by @tar-baphon. Orcus is one of the iconic D&D villains, and through the SRD and plausible deniability (he's a Roman god!), he's in Pathfinder as well. In Pathfinder, he is deliberately not a power player, and my flavor text takes that already metatextual decision and runs hog wild with it.

A note on the art: I feel like Orcus is emblematic of when D&D was seen as dangerous, and this piece absolutely feels like it should be the cover of a Black Sabbath album. It's no surprise that I was fascinated with the anti-D&D strain of the Satanic Panic when I was a kid. Also, although there has been some course correction in the 5e era, there's a trend with Orcus in a lot of art, including his official Pathfinder depiction, of making Orcus buff. Let Orcus be fat!]

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 CE Outsider (extraplanar) This humanoid is a corpulent giant with skin mottled like a decaying corpse. He has great black bat-wings growing from his shoulders, hooves for feet, and the head of a goat. He clutches a short staff, tipped with an oversized human skull.

Orcus, Prince of Undeath CE male demon lord of death, necromancy and wrath Domains Chaos, Death, Evil, Magic Subdomains Demon, Divine, Murder, Undead Favored Weapon heavy mace Unholy Symbol a goat’s head with curving horns Worshipers liches, necromancers, sapient undead Minions boneclaws, deathdrinkers, demons, other undead For information on his Obedience and boons for his worshipers, see Book of the Damned

Orcus is one of the most powerful demon lords in the Universe. But not on Golarion. On that world, his is one of a number of undead cults, and not nearly the most popular. Orcus has a clear hierarchy to what undead he considers truly worthy, with those created from contagion seen as inferior to accident, and those inferior to those who intentionally seek out undeath. His most dedicated worshippers on Golarion are liches, some of whom have learned the secret of crafting a phylactery by teasing apart the Prince of Undeath’s wisdom from his threats. The followers of many other undead-focused religions, particularly vampires and ghouls, see Orcus as pretentious and unworthy of dedication, although few are foolish enough to directly oppose him.

Orcus himself knows that his star has fallen. In his extensive research into planar lore, Orcus has learned that he was once the most feared being in another universe, who went on a killing spree that left several gods dead and an entire race of lawful outsiders duped into being his pawns. That Orcus cannot accomplish this level of power in this version of reality vexes and frustrates him, and he takes his rage out on his minions as much as he does his foes.

Orcus is a genius tactician, although his temper sometimes gets the better of him. He enjoys combat as a distraction from his cosmic-level sulk, and as a way of expressing his power over others. He typically opens combat with a time stop to summon allies and cast defensive spells on himself, and then unleashes a potent death effect as soon as the duration expires. Against creatures that can resist his negative energy and poison, he uses dispelling magic. On more than one occasion, Orcus has beaten a cocky archmage to a pulp by centering an antimagic field on himself and wading into combat.

Orcus in the Great Game Orcus’ response to the brewing theomachy between Mormo and Lamashtu is cautious optimism. He desires more power in the Abyss, and Lamashtu could open the door for him to seize it. Kabriri and Zura are at the top of Orcus’ hit list, but views a direct assault on them as currently too risky to be worth the effort. If one of them were to make a move against Lamashtu and be punished for it, or if they were struck down in the scramble for power following Lamashtu’s (theoretical) demotion or demise, Orcus would happily swoop in to finish them off. And if Mormo is capable of legitimately slaying a god, Orcus will be very keen to study her techniques.

Wand of Orcus (major artifact) The Wand of Orcus is the Prince of Undeath’s scepter of office, and it never leaves his side. Lesser versions have appeared in the Material Plane, often created by Orcus or one of his high-level clerics. The real Wand of Orcus is a Huge +5 anarchic, unholy heavy mace. In the hands of a demon, it grants a +4 profane bonus to Armor Class. The first time the Wand of Orcus strikes a living creature in a round, that creature is subject to a slay living spell (DC 30). Weight 24 lbs.; CL 25th

Demon Lord, Orcus CR 28 XP 4,915,200 CE Huge outsider (chaos, demon, evil, extraplanar) Init +11; Senses arcane sight, darkvision 120 ft., detect good, detect law, Perception +48, true seeing Aura frightful presence (120 ft., DC 36), undead obedience (120 ft., Will DC 36), unholy (DC 28)

Defense AC 47, touch 23, flat-footed 40(-2 size, +7 Dex, +4 deflection, +4 profane, +24 natural) hp 709(33d10+528); regeneration 30 (deific or mythic) Fort +31, Ref +29, Will +34 DR 20/cold iron, epic and good; Immune ability damage, ability drain, charm, compulsion, death effects, electricity, energy drain, petrification and poison; Resist acid 30, cold 30, fire 30; SR 39 Defensive Abilities Abyssal resurrection, freedom of movement, negative energy affinity

Offense Speed 40 ft., fly 60 ft. (average) Melee Wand of Orcus +51/+46/+41/+36 (3d6+20 plus 2d6 chaos and 2d6 evil/19-20), claw +44 (1d8+7), sting (2d4+7 plus poison), gore (2d6+7) or 2 claws +46 (1d8+15), sting +46 (2d4+15 plus poison), gore +46 (2d6+15) Space 15 ft.; Reach 15 ft. Special Attacks epic spellcasting, powerful charge (gore, 4d6+22) Spell-like Abilities CL 28th, concentration +38 (+42 casting defensively) Constant—arcane sight, detect good, detect law, freedom of movement, true seeing, unholy aura (DC 28, self only) At will—animate dead*, astral projection, blasphemy* (DC 27), circle of death* (DC 28), create undead, enervation*, greater dispel magic, greater teleport, plane shift* (DC 25), telekinesis* (DC 25), unholy blight* (DC 24) 3/day—control undead (DC 29), create greater undead, energy drain (DC 31), finger of death* (DC 29), quickened greater dispel magic, quickened harm*, summon demons or undead, symbol of death (DC 30) 1/day—power word kill*, time stop*, true resurrection, wail of the banshee (DC 31) * Orcus can use the mythic version of this spell-like ability in his domain Spells Prepared CL 20th, concentration +32 (+36 casting defensively) 9th—energy drain (DC 33), etherealness, mage’s disjunction* (D, DC 31), overwhelming presence (DC 31), soul bind (DC 33), wail of the banshee (DC 33) 8th —cloak of chaos (DC 30), fire storm* (DC 30), greater spell immunity, horrid wilting (DC 32), orb of the void* (DC 32), protection from spells (D), unholy aura (DC 30) 7th —control weather, destruction (DC 31), greater scrying (DC 29, x2), repulsion, spell turning (D), waves of exhaustion 6th —antilife shell, antimagic field (D), banshee blast (DC 30), blade barrier* (DC 28), geas/quest, harm* (DC 30), mass bull’s strength 5th —dispel good (DC 27), flame strike (DC 27), greater command (DC 27), mass ghostbane dirge (DC 27), righteous might, suffocation (D, DC 29), vampiric shadow shield 4th —contagion (DC 28), death ward (D), divine power (x2), rest eternal, sending (x2)*, tongues 3rd —bestow curse (x2, DC 27), prayer*, protection from energy, rage (D, DC 25), ray of exhaustion, vampiric touch*, water breathing 2nd —bear’s endurance (x2), death knell (D, DC 26), desecrate, owl’s wisdom (x2), resist energy, spiritual weapon* 1st —bane (DC 25), divine favor (x2), entropic shield, identify (D), ray of enfeeblement* (DC 25), sanctuary (DC 23), shield of faith* 0th—bleed (DC 24), detect magic, light, read magic *—Orcus may use the mythic version of this spell in his Abyssal domain

Statistics Str 40, Dex 25, Con 42, Int 30, Wis 35, Cha 31 Base Atk +33; CMB +50; CMD 71 Feats Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Craft Magic Arms and Armor, Craft Rod, Craft Wondrous Item, Flyby Attack, Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Greater Spell Penetration, Improved Critical (heavy mace), Improved Initiative, Hover, Multiattack, Mythic Spell Lore (B), Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic, harm), Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration Skills Bluff +46, Craft (alchemy, weaponsmithing) +46, Fly +36, Intimidate +43, Knowledge (arcana, planes, religion) +46, Knowledge (dungeoneering, history) +43, Perception +48, Sense Motive +48, Spellcraft +46, Stealth +35, Survival +45, Use Magic Device +46 Languages Abyssal, Common, Draconic, Infernal, Necril, telepathy 300 ft. SQ demon lord traits, master of death

Ecology Environment any land or underground (Abyss) Organization unique Treasure triple standard (Wand of Orcus, other treasure)

Special Abilities Aura of Undead Obedience (Su) Any undead creature within 120 feet that attempts to make a hostile action against Orcus must succeed a DC 36 Will save or be unable to take that action, wasting it. The save DC is Charisma based. Epic Spellcasting (Ex) Orcus gains Mythic Spell Lore as a bonus feat. Once per day, he can use one of his spell-like abilities or spells as if it was a mythic spell without spending a use of mythic power. This allows him to use a mythic spell or spell-like ability outside of his Abyssal domain, but he cannot augment that spell or spell-like ability by spending additional uses of mythic power. Master of Death (Ex) Orcus applies his Spell Focus and Greater Spell Focus (necromancy) feats to his spell-like abilities. Death effects created by Orcus, including the Wand of Orcus in his hands, ignore immunity to death effects except for those granted by creature type, or from deific or mythic sources. Poison (Ex) Sting—injury; save Fort DC 42; duration 1/round for 4 rounds; damage 1d6 Str and 1d6 Con; cure 2 consecutive saves. A creature reduced to 0 Str by Orcus’ poison cannot breathe and begins to suffocate. The save DC is Constitution based. Spells Orcus can cast spells as a 20th level cleric, and can prepare necromancy spells from the sorcerer/wizard list as if they were cleric spells. He gets access to domain slots, and can fill them with spells from any of his domains or subdomains. He can also spontaneously cast inflict spells as an evil cleric can. Summon Demons and Undead (Sp) When Orcus summons demons, he can also summon undead creatures.

#orcus #demon #demon lord #pathfinder rpg #pathfinder 1e #D&D #satanic panic #todd lockwood #undead #outsider #necromancer #sponsored post #demigod

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