#clown x maid

[ayowotsdis]

Now, most of what i write is very grim dark fantasy with a lot of midsummer nights dream whimsy but BUT what I told you I have a standalone in works (which could take years) which a is a PURE love story between a court jester and a maid, who have been friends for long. I watch them go from bickering friends to still bickering absolutely enamoured lovers luke these two need each other to BREATH kinda love. And listen, Jane Austen is my GURU, the aesthetic of this book is the 2005 Pride and Prejudice but with more fantasy, a LOT more kisses and every one of them will feel like the "Mrs Darcy" one or I will scream into the cosmos. The friendship between those two is inspired by an irl friendship of mine but we're more platonic. Likeeeeeeee, I absolutely hate modern romantasy because I like smut but why is it just always smut. I want romance, I want the before sunset, p&p 2005, 90s romcom vibes. I want LIGHT, ITS GOLDEN SHE LIKES SHINY THINGS BUT SHE'LL MARRY HIM WITH PAPER RINGE KINDA STUFF. So I took matters into my own hands. The maids name hasn't been fully confirmed yet but my friend named the clown Patricio. Oh and I got the inspiration for this story from staring at the kiss by Gustav Klimt for hours :)

A very casual convo between me and my friend :p

[mischievousmoony]

𝚌𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐

⟢ poly!marauders x fem!reader ⟢ you go costume shopping with your boys ⊹ 1.6k ⟢ warnings/tags: no warnings, muggle au, no use of y/n

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“RAHH!” James shouts, suddenly jumping out of an aisle and into your and Remus’ path. He has on one of those creepy rubber clown masks and his hands are up, his fingers splayed wide to accentuate the zombie skin gloves he’s wearing. 

You and Remus stare blankly at him, unfazed by his attempts to scare you both. For a couple awkward seconds, he remains in his “scary” pose as if one of you will suddenly remember to react. Remus just pats him on the shoulder sympathetically. 

James pulls the mask over his head with one of his zombified hands. “Oh come on. You can’t tell me this isn’t creepy!” he says, shaking the limp mask in front of your faces. 

You watch the mask jiggle in his hands, the eye holes stretching under the weight of it. 

“It’s actually much creepier like this,” you say, grimacing. Remus chuckles, nodding in agreement. 

James look at the mask and turns his wrist so that the mask looks back at him. “Heh, you know we could hang this from the porch to scare trick-or-treaters.”

“We have enough porch decorations as it is,” Remus says. Although, he normally wouldn’t deny the purchase of a few additional halloween items every year. You and James share a certain enthusiasm for the holiday. By the time September rolls around, the two of you already have the house alive with Halloween spirit. And each year, you like to add some new decorations to your collection. 

However, Remus isn’t partial to the idea of hanging up a rubber clown mask in front of his home. To be honest, neither were you. You’d much prefer new skeleton heads to adorn the graveyard display you’ve built in your front yard. 

James could tell by your faces it’s a no-go, so he tosses the mask carelessly onto the shelf of the nearest end cap. 

“Hey, hey, put that back where it came from,” Remus scolds him. 

James smiles sheepishly, reclaiming the mask from the shelf and turning on his heels to return it to its rightful place. You and Remus follow him down the aisle and to the back wall where he hangs it back up, along with his zombie gloves. 

“There you guys are.”

The three of you turn to find Sirius approaching from the same direction you’ve just come from, his arms full of several plastic costume bags. 

“Oh boy,” you comment, already knowing what’s about to happen based on the devilish smirk Sirius is sporting. 

“What’ve you got there?” James asks, snickering to himself, completely aware of exactly what Sirius has. It’s tradition at this point. 

“Oh, just some costume ideas for our lovely girl,” he says. He holds one of the glossy plastic bags in front of you. “Wouldn’t this just look darling on her?”

You peer down at the costume, the upside down text just what you expected it to be. 

“Sexy Nurse,” you read aloud, your tone a blend of distaste and maybe a little amusement. Sirius does this every year, and while he never actually expects you to wear any of these ridiculous costumes, he sure has fun imagining what you might look like in them. 

“Or you could be the Hottie Doctor. I don’t discriminate,” he jokes, holding up a nearly identical costume, both being too-short white dresses. The only major difference is that the doctor one seems to come with a plastic stethoscope. 

“Yes, because nothing screams gender equality like the… Naughty Maid?” you snort, carding through the other costumes in his arms. 

“Don’t ignore the cop costume,” James snickers, pulling it from Sirius’ stack. His eyebrow quirks as he studies the garment. “Actually… yeah let’s turn our attention to the sexy cop costume please.”

He pulls the bag from Sirius’ arms, turning it around to show you the skimpy costume.

"On Duty Cutie?" you read from the bag. “No. No way am I being any of these for Halloween.”

“Oh, I’m not saying you should wear this for Halloween,” James says suggestively. “Do these come with the handcuffs?”

“Ha. Ha.” You make a show of rolling your eyes before swiftly averting your gaze, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your cheeks heat up. 

But of course he does anyway. He smirks and reaches out to tilt your chin up, but you lurch away, and his face instantly falls at your rejection. 

“You smell of rubber from those zombie gloves,” you complain, scrunching your nose in distaste. 

“It’s not that bad, is it?” he asks, lifting his hand to Remus’ face. 

Remus takes James hand to his lips, pressing a kiss on the back of his knuckles as he inhales. “You’re fine. You know how our darling is sensitive to certain smells.”

“Like my Christmas cookie candle,” James says sadly. 

Your face screws up in disgust. “Eugh. Attempting to turn baked good into candle scents is a cardinal sin. They never smell right.” 

“And that’s why I’ve banished my favorite candle to the guest bathroom.”

James’ pouty face pulls on your heartstrings. You sigh as you lift his hand and press a kiss over the same knuckles that were just upon Remus’ lips. 

“We all make our sacrifices,” you say, trying not to grimace at the rubbery scent of his fingers or imagine how many other hands shared that glove before your boyfriend. But that’s neither here nor there, because his beaming smile makes up for it. 

“Come now,” you continue, “let’s put these back and look for some real costumes.” Like James, Sirius isn’t likely to put much care into returning the costumes to where he found them, which is why you decide to take the lead. 

You revel in the way they so quickly fall in line, the three of them instantly following your lead, becoming your doting shadows. 

The four of you make quick work of replacing the costumes Sirius picked out on, and have moved onto perusing the nearby area for real candidates. 

You pick up a Dorothy costume from the Wizard of Oz. You squish the bag as if you’ll be able to feel for the quality of the costume through the thick plastic. 

From what you can see, the quality of the dress doesn’t seem to be half bad. And it’s actually quite pretty; not at all as revealing as most of the women’s costumes are.

“That would look nice on you,” Remus says as he comes up behind you and wraps an arm around your waist. 

“If only Dorothy’s counterparts looked as nice,” you say, hanging the costume back up between a boxy, metallic tin man costume and a cheap-looking cowardly lion onesie. 

You move on to the end of the aisle, where you find James and Sirius giggling to themselves in pointy hats. 

“Look, we’re wizards,” Sirius as says as they turn around, revealing the long beards of coarse gray hair they’ve put on. 

“How’s this for a costume?” James chuckles as he fits one of the pointed hats snugly over your head. 

“You’d make a pretty witch,” Remus says as he allows Sirius to adorn him with one of the beards. 

Sirius hums in agreement as he straightens out the beard. “And we're pretty much under your spell already,” he says adoringly. 

You cast Sirius an amused glance as you remove the hat to inspect its quality. 

“As much as I love the beards on you,” you joke, “witches and wizards are a bit overdone.” 

“You say overdone, I say classic,” Sirius says, adjusting his hat pointedly. 

You consider Sirius’ point. “Well, something classic could be fun.”

“Like vampires,” James says.

“Werewolves,” Remus says for the sake of listing classic costumes, but the scrunch of his nose tells you he doesn't like the sound of dressing in faux fur and flannels for Halloween.

“Or a witch and her wizards,” Sirius says, throwing his arms up to gesture at your current getup.

"You really want to hide that pretty face behind that beard?" you ask, slightly teasing.

Sirius defeatedly strips his beard and hat.

“What about zombies,” James proposes, half joking as he adds, “We could all get those gloves you like so much.”

Although those gloves were abysmal, the idea sparks some inspiration. 

“Wait, are you seriously considering zombies?” Sirius asks, recognizing the pondering look on your face. 

"Not exactly. It's definitely gonna be a 'no' to those gloves. But there are other ways we could do an 'undead' look."

"How do you mean?" Remus asks. The typical image of a zombie that pops into his head doesn't look to appealing, but he's sure you'll have some kind of spin on the idea that will make him love it.

"We could lean towards a skeleton look. Like exposed bones instead of rotting flesh."

"Doesn't exposed bones imply rotting flesh?" Sirius asks, being cheeky.

"Not if we do it right," you defend. "I think we could paint them on very tastefully. We could go for a cold, blue kind of dead look."

"Like corpse bride!" James lights up, listing one of your favorite halloween watches.

"Exactly!" you respond with just as much enthusiasm. "And we could do tattered, but fancy, old timey clothing."

Sirius nudges James. "If we go for this costume we could sit out in the graveyard the two of you put together to give out candy."

You didn't think James could possibly perk up more, but he manages to surprise you.

"We could play dead and scare anyone who walks up!" he says, practically buzzing with excitement. In another life, you think James would probably go into the haunted house business.

"So, it's settled then? We're being undead for halloween?" Remus asks.

By the grins on all of your faces, it seems you've come to an agreement.

"We should try the thrift store for clothing," you say. "I don't think I've seen anything that really aligns with my vision here."

The boys nod in agreement, but before you all head out you add, "Let's look at the face paint here first. And maybe some new bones for our graveyard?"

Remus smiles. "Of course, darling. Lead the way."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: duke!anakin x lady!reader

XIX CENTURY ❦

The ballroom was literally suffocating you from taking any bigger breath. It was all too much—too bright, too loud, the candlelights glinting off gilded chandeliers, silk gowns swirling across the marble floor in shades of pastel and, shining in the sharp lighting, lewel tones. Laughter and endless flirtation between dukes, bachelors, ladies and even duchesses burned in your brain over and over again. To be clear, you refused to come here. But, the fact was, you were 22..and still not married..still not beared any children. As your lovely grandma put it into words, you were getting ancient, with-no-further-chance lady who will eventually die alone with only loud dogs by her side

Well, it wasn't such a bad fantasy after all..

You draw in a breath, fingers curling around the crystal glass in your hand you just accepted from a maid, before barely managing to bite back a sigh.

What a waste of a night.

“Goodness, if you sigh any harder, you might blow out the candles,” your mother hissed, nails digging sharp into your elbow. If someone was watching you from the distance right now, for sure they could see your mother's perfectly-acting sweet smile. Yet what you saw was the murderous eyes biting into you beneath the delicate lace of her mask. “Must you look so bored, dear?”

You forced your lips to curve—tight and stiff, hardly more than a grimace. “My apologies, Mother,” you murmured. “I’ll try not to look so unmarried.”

“You could, at the very least, try to act like a lady,” she snapped, harshly letting go of your elbow. “Or I suppose you have no shame at all, standing here like some wallflower while your friends are—”

Alright, this was the perfect time to tune her out. Biting down on your lip, your eyes slide over the massive crowd before you regret it instantly. Your friends were there, of course, giggling all breathlessly and suddenly shy, yet their eyes told more than any of that. They held seduction, something so depriving and dirty for ladies like you..

Your face softened in realization; you really have to stop taking seriously every word your mother says. You're starting to sound like her..

Coming back to your lovely friends, they were all surrounded by the attentions of future dukes and barons, practically clinging to the arms of eligible men, batting lashes and murmuring sweet nothings while you stood here, suffocating in lace and satin like a dove waiting for her prince charming on his white horse (aka, possibility to slip away and read some book in the nearest library you'd find; this place really isn't for you)

You gritted your teeth.

Well, good for them.

You already started searching for the nearest escape—just a moment, just a breath away from the grasping hands and cloying perfume. When the buffet caught your eyes, long, beautiful tables spread with every pastry and confection imaginable, glistening with sugar and cream and candied fruits, you smiled.

Ah. Perfect.

You barely wait for your mother to turn her head before slipping into the crowd, lifting the hem of your dress just enough to weave between couples and not step on the material, ending up as the biggest clown of this year. A soft breath slipped from your lips the moment you were free of the lacking-of-air room and your mother's endless criticism

The buffet was blessedly quiet, and thanks to God, tucked into the far end of the ballroom. It was filled with towers of éclairs and cream puffs, pastries dusted with powdered sugar and slices of lemon cake spread with thick buttercream.

You didn't think really; just reached for one instantly, a smile softly, so easily curling at your lips for the first time this awful day. If you were doomed to suffer through a ball, you may as well do it with sugar on your tongue.

The cream puff was so soft and oh, so, so sweet, melting on your tongue, giving you the biggest pleasure any book could. You easily took another bite, before even swallowing the first, the cream being perfectly rich and thick and—

“Lady Y/N.”

The voice was smooth—low, like a damn velvet blade sliding just between your ribs—and you startled, almost choking on the delicate food, eyes snapping up just as a shadow fell over the table...

Duke Anakin Skywalker stood before you in all of his glory. This duke Anakin Skywalker..from this ridiculously rich family, from this ridiculously influencing family..

His head was tilted to the side just slightly, lips curved into something that could almost pass for a smile—were it not for the cool glint in his eyes, blue and sharp as shattered glass.

Oh. Oh no.

You swallowed, throat tight around the mouthful of cream and pastry

“M-My lord,” you managed, cheeks already warm, your free hand gripping your dress to bow before him in the shortest, graceful way imaginable; yet enough to suite a lady

His eyes slid over your face, down your body, being so slow and so unhurried in their observation. You really had to resist the urge to squirm, suddenly being too aware of the cream lingering on your lips; you are going to die..

“I see you’ve found something to your taste,” he remarked smoothly, gaze flicking to the half-eaten pastry in your hand. “Though I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your cheeks flamed.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

His brow arched “Although I was under the impression that ladies of your station preferred to… restrain themselves.”

Your fingers tightened on the pastry, irritation flaring before your eyes. The audacity. You definitely won't let that slide. Nuh uh. Not today.

“I suppose not all of us can be quite so—” you swallowed, words a little muffled between the food—“restrained, my lord,” you managed stiffly.

His lips actually twitched, just slightly. “Indeed,” he murmured, voice smooth as honey. “I can see that.”

You grit your teeth, swallowing the last of the cream with as much dignity as you could muster. “Was there something you needed, my lord?”

“Only a dance,” he replied, far too easily, far too smugly

You blinked, heart stumbling. “I—”

“I must insist,” he said, voice now velvet smooth, a gloved hand already outstretched. “After all, it would be a shame to allow such idle hands to go to waste.”

Your eyes narrowed instantly, lips parting for a sharp refusal—absolutely not, over your dead body, you’d rather choke on another cream puff—

But his fingers brushed yours being all insistent. Before you could process anything, he pulled you on the dance floor, your loveable pastry long forgotten and not even in your hand...what the hell?! Your cheeks burned the dark shade of red when his large, warm, gloved hand slid down and down and down till your lower waist, gripping it.. surprisingly gently..pulling you closer to his impossibly hard, muscled body

You glared up at him. “I didn’t say yes.”

His lips curved—an amused, a little arrogant smile, eyes glinting beneath the dark lashes.

“Ah, my bad” he murmured, smooth and confident as the waltz danced around you both

You scowled, heart pounding with something dangerously close to indignation. Infuriating man. Infuriating life. Infuriating mom. Infuriating everything

“I suppose force is quite in fashion for men of your age,” you snapped, voice low and saccharine sweet. “Should I expect a cane next?”

His laugh is soft, warm and rich, a dark glint sparking in his eyes. “Perhaps,” he hummed, twirling you to the sound of music. “Shall I get one with your name on it, my lady?”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [11]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Trigger Warnings: gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 10 | Fic Masterlist | Part 12

Hearing the cessation of all the screams, one of the royal guards gathered the courage to enter the chamber and check on Seonghwa, "Sir, are you done?"

Upon entering, he had yet to witness the state in which the former minister was left. The general stood before his victim, actively wiping all the blood off his hands with a towel prepared beforehand, "It's done. Has my assistant arrived to pick me up?"

"Yes, sir. Assistant Choi is waiting with your carriage by the entrance. If I remember correctly, he mentioned Lady Park helped prepare dinner today." A smile instantly graced your husband's face at the mere mention of you.

"Thank you, soldier. Bring in the rest and clean up the mess," He instructed, finally stepping away from the seat in the middle of the room, revealing the sight of your father slumped in the chair, both of his arms missing, blood gushing out from his shoulders, "Get him to a physician before banishing him. No need to treat him extensively; heal him just enough to keep him alive."

Freezing, the guard nodded quickly, "Y-yes, sir! We will not let you down!" His round eyes fixated on the two mutilated limbs on the ground in the middle of the puddle of crimson liquid.

The general was truly not someone to be underestimated, that was evident to the royal guards who filed in later on to clean up the bloody mess. They now understood why Seonghwa was so feared among those who had worked with him or witnessed his cold-blooded nature firsthand.

However, rather than instilling pure terror, your husband garnered more respect from them. He had gone to great lengths just to avenge his beloved wife. This demonstrated that the man still possessed a heart after all and that his affection for Lady Park was undeniable. He has proven that he could love just as fiercely as he hated.

Not a single member of the palace staff harboured even a hint of pity for the former Minister of Military Affairs as they dealt with his mangled body according to instructions. Any citizen with access to news was aware of all the cruel acts the old man had committed against his own daughter and first wife. It was safe to say that witnessing him in this state brought ample satisfaction not only to the general but to others as well.

"Sir, there's a bit of blood here."

The assistant extended his handkerchief, ensuring his master was free from any signs of bloodshed as they returned home. The last thing they all needed was for you to catch on to any of the events that occurred today; you should only focus on happiness and never spare another thought for your so-called family from now onwards.

"Thank you, Jongho," The general responded, taking the piece of fabric to remove the small bloodstain on his neck, "Keep me posted on where they banished that clown afterwards. It would be nice to check in on him once in a while, for entertainment purposes."

"Yes, sir."

Upon entering the estate, he was surprised not to find you waiting for him by the entrance, as was your usual routine when he returned from work. Only the head maid and a few servants stood there, ready to greet him, "Welcome home, master. We hope you had a good day at work." They said with a deep bow.

Seonghwa frowned, "Where's the mistress?" The elderly woman replied, "Mistress is currently at the main hall having a chat with Royal Secretary Choi while they were awaiting your return."

That immediately had the general rushing towards the hall. He didn't like the thought of you alone with... yet another handsome man. He had finally grown accustomed to having Yunho around the estate whenever he was at work, only because the two of you rarely interacted; he knew that thanks to daily reports from Eunsook. Now, jealousy was flooding his veins again.

What if you found San more attractive?

"Yes, I fully understand your concern. My sister faces similar issues," The royal secretary's voice carried from outside the hall, and then your softer response followed, "Thank you so much for your help, San. It means a lot to me."

They're already on a first-name basis?

"Help? With what?" He queried, abruptly pulling you and the secretary from your conversation. Both of you looked up at him, and you blinked and stammered nervously, quickly rising from your seat, "Oh, Seonghwa! You're home! It's nothing, we were just having a casual conversation while waiting for you."

Sensing your unease, San chuckled and concurred, "Yes, it was nothing important. It's good that you're back; I've come to deliver the minutes of today's assembly to you, as per His Majesty's orders."

"Please don't let me interrupt; I'll be waiting for you at the dining hall," You remarked to your husband, offering a nod of gratitude to the secretary, "It was nice talking to you, Royal Secretary Choi," The man respectfully bowed his head, "And you, Lady Park."

The general watched the interaction between you two with unmistakable envy, causing San to suppress a snicker into his fist, "Without further ado, general, let's proceed so that you can join your wife for dinner as soon as possible," Seonghwa nodded, feigning nonchalance, "Of course."

As the secretary continued to share the main details discussed during the assembly, he noticed the general's slight distraction. Wrapping up the debrief, he decided to ease your husband's thoughts by divulging the nature of your earlier conversation.

"Listen, before you came back, Lady Park and I were just talking about her concerns regarding being a better wife. Given that my elder sister, who is married, shares similar worries, I was merely offering some insights that might be helpful. So, don't stress over it too much, okay? I assure you, you're the only one on her mind."

Learning that you were only seeking to improve yourself for him, Seonghwa's heart melted immediately. Regret washed over him for entertaining the notion that you might find his colleague more appealing, and a slight embarrassment crept in, "I, uhh... it's not like I was worried about that or anything... but thank you, San. If that's all for today, Jongho will escort you out."

The secretary held back his knowing smile as they bid each other farewell before the general made his way to the dining hall. His heart pounded with excitement at the thought of being with you again.

Dinner went by as usual, though this time, you were brimming with enthusiasm as you shared how you spent the day learning to prepare his favourite dishes from the kitchen staff. You even mentioned the surprising discovery that you might have developed a love for cooking. He ate more than usual, savouring the fact that the meal was made just for him, and found it difficult to take his eyes off of you throughout the night.

He had once considered happiness to be a frivolous notion, something only fools wished for. He never anticipated being the one to experience it. Now that he had, your husband was determined not to lose this newfound feeling.

With your family matters now resolved, the only thing remaining was to give you the grand wedding you truly deserved. From then on, the plan was to enjoy a lifetime of this happiness together. Watching you munching away with joy, he couldn't resist reaching over to affectionately wipe the corner of your lips. At that moment, he realised that this was all he needed.

After the meal, he walked you back to the House of Lotus, hand in hand as usual. Upon reaching the entrance, you smiled up at him, "Have a good night, Seonghwa."

However, before you could turn and leave, he swiftly cupped your face, "Wait, before you go..." Your heart quickened as he leaned in, whispering, "Just one kiss, my love."

Almost instinctively, your eyes fluttered closed as soon as his lips met yours in a tender kiss. The warmth spread through your insides as he wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss by angling his head.

Feeling the sensation of his lips pressing against yours, again and again, you finally understood why couples enjoyed kissing. It was hard to put into words, but being so close to him felt pleasant, and your husband had a unique way of making you feel beautiful with his touches, even when you doubted it yourself. There was an almost addictive quality to it, making you feel like the luckiest woman in the world to be desired by the great General Park.

Perhaps I've found it... my happiness.

After breaking the kiss for a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours, a smile adorning his face as he looked down at you lovingly. In silence, the two of you remained in each other's arms, basking in the moment, reluctant to part.

Unfortunately, the moment was cut short as your assigned group of servants approached, "Oh, pardon us for the intrusion, master and mistress! We came to assist in preparing the mistress for bed. May we proceed, master? Or, if you wish to stay with the mistress, we could also make arrangements for both of you for the night in the House of Lotus."

His heart raced as he witnessed the faint blush on your cheeks in response to the maid's suggestion. Chuckling, he gently shook his head and placed a kiss on your forehead, "No, the mistress needs her rest. Perhaps another time. Go on ahead then; she will join you soon."

"Yes, master, as you wish."

The servants entered your quarters to prepare your bath while you exchanged your goodnight. Caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, he couldn't resist leaning in for a final, lingering kiss on your soft lips, "Goodnight, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

As you made your way to your room, he felt a swell of affection watching you turn for one last wave before disappearing inside. He missed you already, and as much as he would have loved to hold you close all night, he knew that waiting until your proper wedding night to share the same bed was the right decision. For now, this was more than enough. After all, he had the rest of his life to spend with you.

"Thank goodness the ointment has been remarkably effective. I don't think you need to harbour any insecurities about your appearance anymore. Lady Park, you look beautiful." said Physician Jung as he arrived to assess the condition of your skin. Having you apply the medicine he prepared for some time, he recognised that his work here would soon be done.

Eunsook couldn't contain the grin on her face at the slight pink dusting your cheeks from the doctor's compliment, suddenly relieved that her master was not around. Lord knows how unamused he would have been to hear any of that or see your reaction.

"Yes, thank you, Yunho. She's always been ravishing with or without your ointment. I think your job here is done; it's my turn to enhance this beauty. Head over to the general's study for your pay if that's all," The doctor couldn't resist rolling his eyes at the dressmaker's dramatic entrance, "It's nice to see you too, Hongjoong."

With a dismissive wave, he shrugged off the sarcastic greeting from his tall friend, saying, "I'll catch up with you soon; I have work to do." Left with no other choice, Yunho offered one final bow to you before leaving your room with a maid escorting him out.

Closing the distance between you, the dressmaker swiftly retrieved the new hanbok he had made specifically for the special occasion today, declaring, "Now, who is ready to outshine all the princesses in the palace? It's you, Lady Park!"

"Outshine the princesses? I d-don't think that's a good idea—"

He interrupted you before you could finish your protest, "Nonsense! I promised General Park to make you the most beautiful woman in all of Joseon." With a small giggle, you sighed in defeat and allowed him to work his magic with the assistance of the head maid as they coordinated your appearance for your visit to the palace.

Today marked the day you and Seonghwa were meeting the King and Queen to discuss the details of your wedding ceremony in-depth, as well as allowing the royal couple to finally meet you after having heard so much about you. Even without having seen you, they already adored you from the stories your husband had shared. Not to mention, their hearts ached, especially after learning about your nightmarish childhood.

Seated at the vanity table, you gazed at your reflection in amazement as Eunsook worked on your hair and makeup, with Hongjoong providing expert advice and guidance. Just as the elderly woman was about to conceal the remaining faint scars on your face as she had always done, the dressmaker intervened, "No, wait. Leave the one on her forehead as it is; I have an idea."

With his extensive knowledge of fashion and beauty, he had always been intrigued by the Chinese makeup style, which incorporated temporary tattoos. Specifically, he was drawn to the idea of a small flower design painted onto women's foreheads.

Rather than covering your marks, he opted to transform them into an accessory that would improve your overall looks. With this distinctive look, you were bound to capture attention from all directions, not that your beauty didn't already achieve that. Now, you would stand out wherever you went, even within the palace grounds where princesses and royal concubines were always impeccably dressed.

Waiting by the entrance, Seonghwa turned when he recognised the sound of your dainty footsteps approaching. He didn't miss his assistant's awestruck expression, taking in your appearance from behind him, "Finally, Hongjoong's taken way too long..."

As you stepped into full view, his words trailed off, and his gaze fixed on you with a mix of astonishment and sheer admiration. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he couldn't find the words to express what he felt. You had always been beautiful in his eyes, but his friend had truly outdone himself this time.

The most significant difference that caught the general's attention was the little red flower on your forehead, right between your eyes. That delicate design elegantly covered one of the scars you bore from your past. It was a stroke of genius from the dressmaker, turning a mark of pain into a unique and striking accessory that enhanced your natural beauty.

Your husband approached you, his eyes never leaving yours. Finally finding his voice, he whispered, "You look breathtaking, my love," before gently reaching up to trace the edge of the flower on your forehead, his touch soft and filled with so much love, "Hongjoong, you've done wonders."

The dressmaker grinned proudly and nodded in agreement, "I know, I always do."

Throughout the journey to the palace, the general found it hard to divert his gaze from you, just as you were captivated by the passing scenery outside. The roads to the palace differed from the usual routes leading to town, explaining your intrigue. As he admired your beautiful face, an unexpected desire surged within him to take you back home and shield you from others' eyes. A sudden uncertainty about wanting anyone else to see you overcame him. A selfish impulse urged him to keep you all to himself.

Before he could entertain the impulsive idea of turning the carriage around, Jongho had already announced their arrival. This time, Eunsook didn't bother to stand by and assist you down, instead waiting expectantly as the general smoothly helped you in one swift movement, determined to keep you close.

Having been here more than enough, Seonghwa knew this place might appear beautiful on the inside but could be very dangerous at the same time. People here might seem nice but rarely could be trusted, particularly the women. Well aware of this, he hesitated to let you wander off alone, despite your status as his wife. You were easily recognisable as Lady Park from a distance, anyone would have to be insane to dare mess with you.

Even so, he had no intention of leaving your side for even a moment. Palace servants passing by bowed deeply at both of you, and you did your best to maintain the poise of a noblewoman as practised with the head maid. The last thing you wanted was to make your husband look bad in here.

As you both approached the hall for the meeting with His and Her Majesty, the royal secretary rushed out to intercept the two of you. Almost as if your husband had jinxed it, San exclaimed, "There you are, General Park! We have a bit of a situation right now. Your immediate presence is required at an emergency meeting."

"But my wife—"

Finally realising you were present, the secretary bowed, "Oh, right, Lady Park! We're all aware you're here to discuss your wedding arrangements, but this really cannot wait. Even His Majesty is currently in this meeting expecting you. Would it be alright if we have your wife waiting by the cherry blossom garden? We'll have the servants prepare her some refreshments."

As much as Seonghwa detested the sudden change of plans, he acknowledged that he was left with no choice upon sensing the urgency in San's demeanour. With a nod of defeat, he agreed, "Okay, fine. Eunsook, please stay by the mistress' side at all times."

She nodded with a bow, "Of course, master."

Turning to you with a regretful frown etched on his brows, he said, "I'm sorry for having to leave you alone, my love. I'll come back to you as quickly as I can, I promise."

You shook your head with an understanding smile, "Don't worry about me, Seonghwa. I'll be fine. Your work is more important. Now hurry and go. Don't make His Majesty wait." Sighing lightly, he pecked you on the head before rushing off with the royal secretary.

"Lady Park, please come with us. We will guide you to the cherry blossom garden."

A team of palace maids appeared before you, showing you as much respect as they would towards royalty. Your status and reputation were well-known nationwide; you were favoured not only by your husband but also by the King and Queen themselves. No one would dare to disrespect you for fear of dire consequences.

Their dedication was evident in the top-tier hospitality as they led you to the enchanting garden, unlike anything you had ever seen. After thanking them politely, they prepared a seat for you in one of the pavilions within the vast garden, serving a tray of tea and some sophisticated-looking snacks.

Boredom eventually set in, and you glanced at one of the palace maids standing ready by the pavilion for any orders you might have for her, "Excuse me, would it be okay for me to take a walk around the garden?"

"Oh, certainly, Lady Park! Feel free to explore the garden as you please. Would you like any of us to accompany you?" Smiling and glancing at Eunsook, you declined, "No, thank you. We'll manage on our own. We won't be gone too long; you have my word."

"Thank you, Lady Park. Your assurance is appreciated; we'll await your return here." They bowed deeply as you and the head maid began your leisurely stroll.

As you wandered through the picturesque garden, marvelling at the vibrant colours of the flowers, you inadvertently caught the eye of a stranger who happened to be nearby. Your beauty, accentuated by the mark on your forehead, captivated the attention of this mysterious figure. What intrigued him even more was the unmistakable childlike innocence reflected in your eyes.

From a distance, he observed you with awe. The way you carried yourself, the genuine delight on your face as you admired the flowers and scenery—it all conveyed a sense of authenticity. Unlike anyone he had encountered, you seemed untouched by pretentiousness or spoiled airs.

Driven by an unexplainable urge to get closer, the stranger slowly made his way towards you, navigating through the enchanting garden. His curiosity was piqued, and he couldn't resist the desire to learn more about the intriguing woman who had captured his attention.

Unaware of the approaching figure as you immersed yourself in the beauty of the flowers, a clearing of the throat behind you signalled his presence. Eunsook, recognising the newcomer, widened her eyes and began to bow, but he gestured for her to remain silent with a finger against his lips and a subtle shake of his head.

Interrupting the tranquillity, the unexpected deep voice spoke, "It's beautiful, isn't it? Do you know what cherry blossoms symbolise?"

Startled, you turned to find a handsome man dressed elegantly, smiling down at you. After a moment of surprise, you nodded, "I do. I've read that they symbolise purity and beauty."

The man acknowledged, "That's right, much like you, my lady."

Concern flickered in the head maid's eyes, realising that the stranger might be unaware of your identity and possibly attempting to make a romantic gesture. Before matters could escalate, she decided to intervene, "Allow me to express our deepest respect, Your Highness. This is Lady Park, the esteemed wife of General Park. Mistress, may I present to you Prince Yeosang."

« Preview of Part 12 »

Seonghwa's eyes widened as they approached the War and Strategy Department building, where soldiers were marching about hastily, "Wait a minute, don't tell me—"

The royal secretary had no time to explain as he pulled the general into the meeting room where all military officials were seated and awaiting anxiously. The King, positioned in the middle of the room, sighed deeply upon noticing your husband's arrival.

"You're here, General Park. Is your wife also in the palace?" His Majesty asked, rubbing his head to alleviate an oncoming headache.

Seonghwa nodded in confirmation and inquired, "Yes, she is. She's waiting by the cherry blossom garden as we speak. Now, tell me. What is it? What has happened?"

With regret in his eyes, the King grimaced, "I'm so sorry, my boy. It seems your wedding will have to wait. Relations with the neighbouring nation, Ruhon, have not been very good lately. I fear war is inevitable this time, and... we need you."

Just wanted to make it clear that Ruhon is a fictional country. I've thought about it and decided it's probably best not to use real places for fear of offending anyone.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[londonfog-chan]

Emperor Caracalla x Fem!Reader: Hermâs

A/N: The little lad dances once again.

I got this idea from listening to the soundtrack for Spirit. I’m a fucking horse girl at heart.

I also wanted to write about the true “quirky girl” experience. The majority of the time, the quirky girl isn’t beloved by all. In fact, many find her quite annoying.

I wanted to write about a sheltered, immature girl whose main character syndrome fucks her over when she finds someone that can match her delulu. I wanted to write a story where the reader is genuinely as stupid and naive, as well as childish, as the moron twins are.

Sometimes, we need a stupid reader.

Summary: Was this truly happening? Have the gods at last acknowledged your existence as the main character of your childhood narrative?

Warnings: Caracalla being a creep, period accurate misogyny, mentions of marrying off daughters to old men, Geta plotting evil, slight smutty elements

Credits: massive shoutout to @writhingg and @rxqueenotd for beta reading my clown shoes writing, as well as dealing with me screaming about my Shayla.

Dividers by: @strangergraphics-archive

You found yourself groaning awake in your bed the morning after your sojourn in the stables.

Despite the consistent treatments of echinacea salve and rendered animal fat, the large bruise on your thigh still stung and bled through the linens— your father’s new war stallion was not one to be trifled with. Whereas you had intended to capture the hearts of the handsome stable hands by taming the horse, your poor planning and recklessness had almost killed you.

The stallion had been a gift— war spoil— from a distant land far to the east. The animal was a beautiful golden buckskin with singed brown legs and dark mane; for a moment, you mistook him for one of the golden horses that pulled Sol’s chariot across the sky. One could imagine the distinct markings as telling a story of his divine origin.

Perhaps the fiery rays of the sun singed his legs, mane and tail, and maybe the light bleached his hide— just as it tended to wash out the dyed colors of forgotten laundry hanging on a line.

He was beautiful.

So different from the broken ones you had been able to ride bareback as a small child, you naively thought all this poor creature needed to be tamed was a tender hand. Someone who understood his divine origin, and respected him for it. Only heroes in your childhood fairytales could tame such a beast, and you fancied yourself to be of their rank.

Unfortunately, your status as a chosen one was called into question. The animal was still half possessed by the wilds, and the scent of the working mares around him drove him into a lovesick madness. You jumped without thinking onto his back, and the animal had tried everything in his power to throw you. Both of you went down when he reared, and landed on your sides when the horse lost footing in the arena.

Instead of a potential stable hand suitor rushing to your side to help, your father corralled the stallion, and it was Mother Lucilla who appeared with her maid Leta when she heard your cries of agony. Leta scolded you with a clicking of her tongue as she hauled you up, and your mother’s deep contralto barked out as she gave you a verbal lashing.

“What were you thinking?! Moronic child! Preposterous piss-ant! Behaving as though I’ve never taught you sense! You could have broken your neck, you could have been killed! Foolishness!”

While you were carted back to the house in a lectus, you could hear the young stable hands laughing at your idiocy. Doubled over, they slapped at their bare knees and mimicked your cries and moans of pain in high pitched voices. Baiting, ugly, almost sexual sounding cries, they laughed and hooted until chastised back into their duties by your father’s hard gaze.

The old stable master had yet again approached your father, begging Acacius to do something about these repeated infractions.

“General! With all due respect, your daughter is a nuisance, a menace to my animals and to society! The horse may be ruined because of her stupidity.”

“She is only a child…”

“Does she not count nineteen years, General?! She is more than old enough to be wed, certainly old enough to know better. Perhaps it would do her some good to marry a man of advanced age and wisdom, surely he would straighten out her insolence with a sound beating!”

Even though the war horses were your favorite creatures in all the land, never again would you enter your father’s stables. Far too much embarrassment had cowed you, and you feared that if you made just one more misstep with his animals, that this time your father really would punish you rather than make excuses. Acacius had been cross this time, inflexible with your punishment. Under threat of a good thrashing by your mother, you were not to leave the domus, nor were you allowed to breach even the threshold of the atrium for any excuse. Never in your life had you seen your father so angry…

For a moment you were afraid. Afraid that this time, he would listen to the advice of those he trusted, and ship you off to some shriveled old man who would break your spirit.

You stayed put in your bed as your mother and her maid bathed your wounds and stood by as you recovered. When you began to grow restless, your impotent begging for mercy from hateful Mother Lucilla earned you a few moments alone in the hortus.

You loved the hortus. It was a grand design of your late mother’s creation, consisting entirely of things which were either medicinal or able to be used in various dishes. This time of the year it would be awash with a rainbow of perfumed shrubbery; the marigolds and roses would be in bloom with the purple lavender, interspersed liberally with chamomile and pansy, and you could preoccupy yourself with endlessly plucking blossoms to savor the taste. The peppery marigolds and aromatic rose petals were the taste of summer, a comfort whenever you were distressed.

This task could be accomplished alone, leaving you to ruminate on your embarrassment. Settling against a marble bench near the laurel tree, you lay reclined, with legs splayed on either side of the seat as you chewed the petals on a marigold blossom.

There was no one to stop you. Lucilla’s impatience and eye for meticulous detail were soon distracted by matters of the home. With strict instruction to stay put until she came to fetch you, she departed to attend her responsibilities among the servants in preparation for Acacius’s departure. There was food to be purchased and stored beforehand, monetary affairs to settle, as well as a thousand different things to consider for the duration of the General’s campaign. Certainly no time to devote fully to a rambunctious youth who paced the length of the gardens, limping the entire way.

You could hardly imagine it. In a week’s time, your father would be gone for nearly half a year…

The thought was almost frightening and would have put you in your sickbed, had not you already gone to great lengths to harden your heart. This was nothing at all new. Acacius had left often before when you were young, hence why he’d married Lucilla. The marriage was one of mutual benefit: you would have someone to care for you besides your late mother’s selected wet nurse, and Lucilla would have a child of her own to love and raise, a comfor to her heart for the one she’d lost.

You loved Lucilla. But the thought of losing your father, your last biological connection, and being left alone in the world still frightened you. There was always a chance that this would be the one time Acacius wouldn’t come back— and you wished that the emperors would stop sending your father away.

When Acacius left the domus, the mood of the home became sullen. Prayer was ceaselessly carried out in the lararium. Tithes, incense, and blood libations offered to the gods were overseen by your mother, and she could be gone for hours at a time at temple while you stayed behind in your cubiculum.

When at last you tired of eating flowers, you began carelessly scattering blood red rose petals into your mother’s font filled with carp while asking questions of Venus. You were imagining her responses, looking for her answers taking shape in the patterns the petals made in the water, when you heard mad giggling from behind a pillar towards the domus’ portico.

Whipping around, you looked for the source, eyes widening at the unfamiliar sound.

The giggle increased, and you could see wine colored silken damask dart behind a marble column.

What in the name of the gods was that?!

Nymph? Genius loci? One of the marble gods from the lararium— a statuette— come to life to play with you? You weren’t sure, but your heart was racing, breathing staccato as you crept closer to find out.

The scraping of leather sandals against marble could be heard when you approached. Heavy footed and a little clumsy: the perpetrator moved opposite you. You veered to the left, he to the right.

You saw a flash of hair the color of sunset. As well as the smallest glimpse of blue-gray eyes.

Grinning at the game, you decided to go for a feint. The two of you circled the pillar for a time, the high pitched giggling increasing. The giggle drowned out the sound your footsteps made when you doubled back around the pillar, laying hands on the shoulders of the intruder.

“Caught you!” You sing-songed.

He screeched, his ringed hands covering his face, and you both toppled out of the portico into the grass.

“I caught you!” You cried out again, as you leaned down to pull his hands away from his flushed face.

“You did not! Liar! I was hunting you for sport.” Exclaimed the intruder.

“You aren’t supposed to giggle when chasing your quarry.” You smiled, finally yanking his wrists apart and holding them.

“Liar! You lie! No you didn’t!”

You loved the way the man’s face turned rose pink across pock marked cheeks, his aquiline nose scrunching in anger.

“The laughter was a tactoc… um… A tac… it was an idea of my own design to catch you unawares!”

“Fool!” You smiled, keeping his wrists in a secured hold.

Quickly you rolled off of the interloper when he attempted to knee you between your legs, not knowing who he was or what he was doing snooping in the hortus. He must have been some sort of benevolent spirit sent by the gods. Perhaps even one in disguise, for he was certainly dressed in such opulent finery. Wine colored damask silk with golden zardozi embroidery made his toga picta, with gems of all size and color sewn into the fabric. They caught the sunlight, and the pinpricks of color reflected against your skin.

“You look as if the gods laid your gold and jewels across your neck themselves.” You whistled.

The intruder’s movements were feminine, almost demure. So unlike the more burly movements of generals, or the confident strides of the stable hands. As he sat cross legged, the sound made by the cuffs at his wrists clattering against the gems was captivating. Golden discs the size of libum hung from his ears and chimed with his movements as well.

“You dress like a nymph.” He murmured.

Pert, pink lips parted to allow his tongue to lick across, his smile revealing a single shimmering gold incisor. Surely he must be something otherworldly… you’d never seen someone with a golden tooth before.

“Tell me, nymph, have I stumbled into your secret grove?” He asked.

“No.” You were tickled at the insinuation, “I am no nymph. This is my father’s garden.”

“Your father? That’s not so, this is General Acacius’s garden!”

“General Acacius is my father.”

The intruder shook his head in vehement denial.

“Liar! Lady Lucilla counts forty nine years, and I would have known if she had birthed a child!”

“She is not my blood mother. I counted only three years when my father married her.” You responded, flicking off a half chewed petal from your chin.

Although you knew stories of wicked stepmothers, Lucilla had managed to break the molded stereotype. The first time your father left you alone with her, you bawled like an infant. The good lady had not punished you for your insolence, instead she swept you into her arms and showered your forehead with a thousand kisses.

She was a doting mother, your true mother, the one not of womb but of the heart; who held you and cared for you even when you were insolent.

“And your mother allows you to romp wild in your father’s garden?! To dress like a brothel whore, entertaining strange men?”

The stranger let forth a high pitched giggle, one that made you laugh with him. It was easy to feel inadequate, particularly in the face of such opulence and finery as he wore. The privacy of the garden allowed for leniency in your dress. You had wandered out of your cubiculum in a shrunken, thin, faded green stola that gave a clear view of your bandaged thigh and leg. A mismatched pale pink palla was slung carelessly around your shoulders, and you had long since abandoned your worn out calfskin sandals somewhere in the shrubbery.

“No! I dress like this because I should do as I wish in my own domus. And besides, what would a strange man be doing in my father’s garden to begin with?” You asked, “We were not told of visitors coming.”

“Not all visitors have to announce themselves.” He said haughtily, “Certainly not one as important as myself!”

A fist pounded against his chest in an intimidating boom, the sound reminiscent of a drum.

“Important?” You asked, cocking your head to the side, “Are you a messenger of some sort?”

Your nursemaid and her chatterbox daughter often told you stories of such divine messengers. Half asleep with daydreaming, you would sit at your window as your nurse embroidered crisp linens with geometric patterns, telling stories about Mercury— Hermâs she called him, in the language of the Hellenes— and his wily ways of bestowing divine fortunes and boons upon unsuspecting persons.

“Perhaps I am— a god’s messenger— in my divine disguise…!” exclaimed your stranger.

Your eyes were sparkling. Innocent and sweet.

“Truly?” You asked, crawling to him on all fours. Blissfully unaware of the sensuality in such a movement.

“Indeed. I am a bearer, a messenger, sent by Jupiter himself.” He said, his eyes trained lower on your body, “And I come bearing a secret, strictly for the young flower that hides in her father’s garden.”

“What message have you come to give me?” You asked.

“This divine message is for your ear alone.” He said, his voice lowering to a conspirator’s whisper, “Keep it secret, keep it safe. The gods have deemed you worthy of a special gift, but should you spoil the secret, they will take it away and rain down lighting from the west upon your house!”

“How wonderful!” You exclaimed, your excitement masking the fear of the stranger’s thinly veiled curse, “I’ve never had a message of my very own before!”

“Well then, prepare to be blessed, sweet one. For this message is for your ears alone… Come to my knee, let me whisper it to you.”

You sat upon his lap as he beckoned, nodding enthusiastically and sighing, holding both hands to your cheeks. The stranger leaned closer, cupping his hands over your ear as his lips grazed the shell.

“The gods have great plans for you.” He breathed.

A gasp of delight escaped you, enjoying the fact that your mystery messenger was so close. Whispering sweetness into your ear.

“The gods have told me you are to be given everything your heart desires, my beautiful nymph.” He said, “You will be the envy of all: walking marbled halls while draped in damask silks, vibrant jewels, and gossamer. Your name whispered in reverent prayer upon the tongue of the thousands who will see you in the imperator’s box at the colosseum-…”

“How would this be possible?” You interrupted softly, “I’ve never been outside of these walls, let alone in the palace.”

“You dare to question your divine messenger?! Do not underestimate the might of the gods, nymph. They can make anything so.”

He held your chin in his hand, the softness of his fingertips contrasting the tight grip he maintained, as if expecting you to try and get away.

“They can elevate you to a princess— no! To an empress, if they so desire. The gods wish to use you as their instrument, and they desire to give you everything you could ever want. Money, luxury, power, wine, sexual pleasure…”

“And… and how soon would this happen?” You asked softly.

“Very soon, my sweet one. Your time will come on the first day of the month of Juno, matter of fact.”

It felt so impossibly far away. Too far to even consider. But the fact that such an exciting blessing was to be bestowed during the month of weddings eluded you.

You bounced in excitement on his lap, his hands immediately reaching out to hold your hips steady. Hissing at the pain as he pressed your bruise, you attempted to re-adjust yourself when you felt something press against your inner thigh.

“What in the name of the gods is that?! It… it feels as though you’ve a dagger strapped to your leg.” You said, grinding your thigh against the protrusion.

The messenger froze, and his cheeks turned crimson. A large, impish grin spread from ear to ear, catlike, as if he was preparing to steal a morsel.

“Undo the belt at my tunic, and find out what it may be.” He said, breathless, a perverse look in his eye.

With an impatient huff, you almost rent the damask fabric of his robes in two, demanding that your messenger help you…

But the calling of your mother interrupted the overwhelming need to see what he had strapped to his leg.

“Oh…!” You sighed, a puff of breath escaping past your lips, “I have to go. I’m sorry, but thank you! Thank you for bringing me this message! Tell the gods I will accept this blessing and that I am most thankful to them, and to the messenger who told this to me!”

Before the messenger could protest, you quickly kissed both of his cheeks, scrambling to your feet as you ran off towards the house. As you approached your mother, running breathlessly up to her, you noticed something odd. It appeared as though her heart was racing, almost as if Lucilla was agitated

“What is it, mother?” You asked, out of breath.

Servants were darting every which way, making preparations to feed their guests and make the house presentable. Leta— your mother’s servant— was ordering the others to set the domus to rights, and you were shocked when Lucilla glowered at your unkempt visage.

“What have you been doing?!” Lucilla exclaimed, brushing leaves and petals off your stola, “I allowed you to take a walk, not roll in the shrubbery— is this a stain?!”

“What is this fuss mother…?” You attempted, but your words were stopped by Leta turning your head to look at you.

“My lady, shall I clean your daughter and dress her in the damask?” Asked the handmaiden.

“Yes, quickly! Make sure she is presentable.”

“What’s going on?!” You squeaked, both women taking you by an arm and leading you away like a prisoner to your cubiculum.

“We have been… graced, by the presence of the twin imperators—…”

“THE EMPERORS?!”

“Hush! Yes, the imperators, my darling. You will not speak out of turn again. You will smile and say little more than a polite greeting, after which we shall keep you in your cubiculum, and pray to the gods that you are spared from the lechery of men…”

Lucilla gave you no room to fret, nor to protest. She instead lead you away, to dress you in her armor of modest silk layers and a thick palla.

All the while, you could not stop thinking of the messenger’s promises.

Luxury…

Wine…

Sexual pleasure…

Unannounced guests and the multitude of problems they brought with them hardly made an impression upon your mind, not when there were such wonderful boons coming your way. All divinely ordained, draped like a zardozi embroidered sheet over the hidden evils of the machinations at hand.

In your ignorance, you believed in the lies of the powerful. Blindly trusting in your place as the chosen of the gods, and feeling the least bit better than at last, your worthiness was recognized.

“Caracalla, what in the name of the gods are you doing…?”

The stern tone of his brother, Geta, interrupted his moment of thoughtfulness as Caracalla watched his nymph run back to the house. His brother was scheming, his giggling increasing to a fever pitch, and Geta raised an eyebrow as Caracalla pointed to the home.

“Enjoying the touch and warmth of a beautiful nymph.” Caracalla beamed.

“… a nymph…” Geta deadpanned.

“Indeed. Simple and pure, with a supple breast-…”

“There are no nymphs in a general’s garden.”

“There are!” Caracalla argued.

“You are mistaken. For I only saw a pauper run from you. What have I told you of infecting the inferiors of other men’s houses? You will deplete Rome of slaves with your appetites.” Geta groused.

“This one was no slave! She is Lucilla’s daughter.” Caracalla snapped.

“The general and Lucilla have no daughters.” Geta said.

“Oh but they do, brother! Acacius hides this charming rose in his garden, away from the eyes of men.”

“Is not Lucilla past the age of childbearing?”

“His seed must have overcome that obstacle.” Cackled Caracalla, “For he has quite the lovely young spawn. Very innocent, and eager to believe every word from my lips.”

“What schemes do you invent in that empty head of yours…?” Geta asked, although he knew the answer already. He could see Caracalla’s maddened mind already concocting the most convoluted, outrageous ideas; the grey blue of his iris overtaken by dilating black pupils.

“Do not tell me…” Geta grinned wickedly.

“You know me so well.” Caracalla smiled, “It is a simple thing, really. Turning nymphs into empresses…”

Geta laughed out loud at his brother’s plotting.

“And how much would you ask for her?”

“Two million denarii!”

“Charity, brother, charity...” Geta laughed, “Acacius is a general after all, not a nobleman. Keep your dowry request under one hundred thousand denarii, or you shall never have her.”

“Only one hundred thousand?!”

“Yes, brother. To be paid in coin, land, or flesh, in the customary three years time-… Well… No, no. We may extend the dowry installments to five. After all, we are sending him away to fight your campaign in Numidia. He will need some time. You’ll want to wed her and bed her before he leaves as well.”

“I would have preferred the two million…” pouted Caracalla.

“Whatever for? The money is of little consequence. You would only piss away two million on whores, and her father would sooner give her away to someone else. This conquest will be far more simple, exercise your power and will it so. I shall give my blessing as the arrangement is not without benefits.”

When Caracalla’s feverish mind could not connect the dots, Geta prompted him.

“She is Lucilla’s legitimate heir. Marry her daughter, and you secure not only the title, but a closer position to the good lady herself… Slake your thirst for flesh with both this nubile creature’s affections, and with the attentions of her comely mother as well.”

[banj0possum]

+* Masterlist *+

Some bonus stuff isnt listen here but you can find them by searching up the tags in their respective fics &lt;3

For those interested in the ones with art, all of my art posts have the tag #opossumdoodles on them !

ADRIAN 🖤 YANDERE! BULLY X READER || PART 2 || PART 3 || Ftm Darling w/ Top Scars

BRANDON 🏈 JOCK X READER || PART 2 || PART 3

VALETH ⚔️ YANDERE! ORC X READER

BO, SCREW, SODA, RIBS 💀 ZOMBIE HORDE X READER || w/ FtM Darling w/o Top Surgery || PART 2 || PART 3 || zombo hcs + art || FtM Reader on Their Period || Abusive Family Finds Reader || Tending To Reader's Wounds || Soda Hates WIne || Zombo HCs || Child Reader

DORIK 🔥 DEMON X READER

KALVA 🪶 HARPY X READER

JASPER 🥀 YANDERE! GOTH X READER || PART 2 || Opposite Reader

VICTOR, GARRICK, SILAS🌙 POLY! VAMPIRES X READER || PART 2

BARON ♠️ YANDERE! BODYGUARD X READER || Affectionate Reader || PART 2

CASPIAN 🌊 YANDERE! SIREN X READER || PART 2

HALLOW 🦋 YANDERE! CLOWN X READER

ASHVAN 🌾 YANDERE! MINOTAUR X READER

AXEL 🎸 YANDERE! ROCKSTAR X READER || Playing with Darling's Pussy || What other genres does he like?

ALISTAIR 👑 YANDERE! KING X READER || Platonic!Teen!Reader || Modern Doctor! Reader ft. @ketsup-toyo

KAGIRI 🐉 YANDERE! GANG X READER

ELIAS 🪲 YANDERE! HERO X READER

Multiple Yanderes:

When Their Darling Simps For A Fictional Character

Asking Them If They Can Squeeze Their Chest

I dont even know what to name this one

w/ Rowdy Darling

Disabled! Reader w/ Mobility Disability

Darling Gives Them Love Bites

Happy Birthday Darling!!

Easiest to Hardest Yans To Escape From

OC Eyes!!

SOME AWESOME FANART BELOW THE CUT!!

AWESOME FANART!!

Dripped Out Jasper by @pyrce

Possumb by @nikasho

Ribs and Screw by @koifish67

Zombie Horde by @gaggedgraveyard

More Zomboys!! by @cursedsnail-slug

little bastard cooking by @nikasho?

Caspian by @ajadoodler

Soda by @treasured-e

Banjo by @smallcactus22 (fun fact, my dad has this one saved on his computer <3)

Hallow and Soda by @treasured-e

Realistic Banjo!! by @getmoxied

Axel Bear Hug!! by @theminotaurslover

Axel by @hungaara

Axel and Small Darling by @mellsfern

Axel in a Maid Dress by @mellsfern

Alistair + Darling by @mellsfern

Dorik and Jasper by @rachaeldafrog

Dorik by @sonderrealization

Alistair and Darling by @gachaclubideas

Valeth!! by @phoenix-nerd

Ribs, Screw, Soda, Bo and Dorik by @ezraa-kelz

Rockin With Ribs by @panconchocolatito

Zombie Horde + HCs by @emperortaro

Silly Guy Ribs by @emperortaro

Pretty Emo Boy by @queenie-the-court-jester

Zombie Horde! by @loveableidiot1

Twink Dorik by @sunnybozo

Dorik!! by @a--butterflys--dream

Other:

Axel Playlist by @questioningstressing

[hey-august]

ANGRY BUGGY I’m screaming I’m giggling I’m kicking my feet.

Being a crew member never really made sense for you, I mean there’s no reason you can think of why he would want you to join his crew. You’re not very talented like the others and you really only ever clean, but you guess that’s reason enough if they just needed a maid, and you’re more than happy having somewhere to sleep at night.

You don’t notice the longing longs and stolen glances, too busy trying to earn your keep on a ship your thankful to have been given a home on. Paying no mind to “accidental” touches or brushing up against you, after all it can get pretty crowded and you’re all working in close quarters. Nothing seems off when you catch him watching you clean, he’s in charge and must be making sure you’re doing your job. You have no reason to think the Captain even knows your name, let alone thinks about you late at night.

Only that changes when he comes back to the ship, drunk and angry after a failed outing. He sees you dusting? He thinks? Not really sure he doesn’t pay much attention to the actual work your doing, but he does see /you/. You give him a half hearted smile to try and avoid confrontation with your clearly upset Captain. Only for him to knock whatever your doing out of your hands and pin your back to the wall. You look surprised and he’s not sure if your fucking with him or just oblivious, you /must/ have noticed how much better he treats you than the other crew, right? That you have to have seen the way he watches you work and how his eyes drift across your body? The only thing Captain Buggy is sure of is that he need to make sure you know, tonight.

Anooooonnnnnn, I'm SO SORRY I kept this for so long.

It's just so wonderful and I wanted to add to it. Time and motivation were working against me, but HERE WE ARE. Finally spending time with our angry clown. 🩷

This was unplanned and got out of hand, like usual.

WC: ~800 Warnings: NSFW, mdni, Buggy x GN!reader, mentions of drinking, insertion sex, angry sex, sorta dubcon (in my head, they both want this), profanity

Nothing - nothing - is going right and it's infuriating. Fucking frustrating. Yeah, he can be a piece of shit, a freak, a loser, but this is fucking ridiculous.

Months of planning and Buggy had nothing to show for it. Sleepless nights spent studying maps, gathering intel, spreading rumors - all for shit and empty hands.

And the moment he lays eyes on you, the anger surges through the liquor burning his insides. Months of planning on how to get closer to you, to get you under him, also resulted in fucking nothing.

You don't notice the way Buggy stares at you like a hungry wolf. You apologize for being in the way when he purposefully brushes his hand against your ass. You didn't question it when you were scheduled to clean his room. You didn't even bat a fucking eye when you walked in the first day and he was laying in bed. Sure he had underwear on, but seriously? You couldn't tell he was coming on to you?

And it's happening again. You're cleaning. Dusting the shit on his shelves. You manage to squeak out some bullshit apology when Buggy slams the door open. Just a little more and then you'd be out of his way.

But that's not where Buggy wants you.

Buggy keeps his eyes open when he kisses you. He wants to see you. The shocked expression on your face is both rewarding and aggravating.

"You have no fucking idea what you do to me, do you," Buggy spits out.

"I don't- what-"

Your words are cut off by an aggressive kiss. Rough and overwhelming. His tongue invading your mouth, his teeth nipping your lips, bruising you.

Breaking the kiss, Buggy presses his forehead against yours. Heavy breaths fill the room. He's finally touching you. He finally has you in his hands. Your taste in his mouth. He should be happy. But no, this success doesn't clear the irritation running through his veins.

"Pull down your pants and turn around."

Buggy waits, wanting to see if you'd listen. And if you didn't, if you left... well whatever. Fuck you, then. And fuck him, ending up with nothing again.

There's barely enough time for his deprecating thoughts to depart before you undress just enough for him to see how aroused you are.

You want this as badly as he does. So why did you make him wait this long?

Rough hands spin your around. "Keep still," Buggy demands while he works to free his aching cock with one hand.

He hisses when bobs and rests against your ass. Your perfect ass. Fuck, he ruts against you, rubbing his erection on you like he's dreamed so many times before.

"Please," you whimper, legs shaking with each tantalizing movement.

The audacity. The fucking audacity you have.

"Please? Please? You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this and you want me to hurry?"

You shake your head but any words that you might say are chased away by pleasure and pain. By Buggy shoving himself in your needy body and his teeth digging into your shoulder. He bites harder and groans as your body clenches and squeezes around him.

His hips are pressed tightly against you and he starts thrusting, hardly pulling out while continuing to bully his way deeper.

Your gasps and moans are a reward. Your white-knuckle grip on the shelves is encouragement. Your body accepting his brutal thrusts is heaven. But Buggy wants more. He deserves more.

A hand in your hair yanks your head back, turning you into a fountain spilling filthy sounds.

Not enough.

His fingers find their way in your mouth and down your throat. You choke and sputter around the intrusion but make no move to pull away. Each gag has your body clenching around him harder. 

A touch on Buggy’s wrist guides his other hand down between your legs. He’s sure you’d say “please” again in that adorably pitiful voice if you weren’t letting him fingerfuck your mouth.

“You fucking- fuck,” Buggy huffs, his hand moving frantically to bring you over the edge before he falls over himself. “You like this, don’t you?”

The high-pitched whine that you manage to push out around his fingers is Buggy’s undoing.

“You better fucking come on me now,” Buggy hisses while his thrusts become erratic and his hands start to shake.

Your legs shake when you catch up, your orgasm ripping through your body. His cock pulses and throbs as he fucks through your orgasms, drops of cum escaping every time he pulls back.

Eventually, heavy breaths fill the room again. The air is hot. It smells of sex, sweat, and alcohol.

“Do you feel better?” you ask, breaking the silence.

The soft tone in your voice is too much. The little flicker of anger in Buggy’s body is gone. He rests his head on your shoulder in defeat and nods. He does feel better. 

“Will you stay?” he asks quietly, lips pressed against your damp skin. He wraps his arms around your torso and holds you tightly, not ready to end this moment.

You nod and the next morning finds you both asleep in bed, utterly worn out and completely content.

[obito-in-disguise]

| Jest for me |

His entertainment

Sukuna x not so bright reader

Sukuna remembers your first encounter like it was yesterday.

He was out on one of his weekly pillages, when he noticed someone bustling around in one of the forests marked as his territory. It was obvious you possessed no ability to detect cursed energy because he had been standing there for the past eight minutes behind you while you hummed and picked flowers.

What an idiot, he should just rip your throat out, he thought but decided against it.

The look of fright on your face when you turned around would be more entertaining, he concluded.

His vermillion eyes observed you as put your flowers into a little arrangement, occasionally giggling when the butterfly that fluttering around you brushes against you face.

Hmm, combined with the stream of light from a hole in the forest canopy that was shining over you, you almost looked beaut-He stops the thought as soon as it enters his head, you wish. He’s clearly let this spiral out of control, time to rip out your throat now.

Your brows furrow as you hear a dry branch crunch behind you, “oh my God!” you screech as you scramble dramatically like a cartoon character, there was a 6-foot shirtless man covered in blood standing behind you.

Sukuna is about to open his mouth to speak when you suddenly smack him across the face with your flower arrangement, his head snaps to the side from the impact as he blinks in astonishment.

Did you just smack the king of curses in the face? With flowers? Oh he was sooo going to rip your throat out.

His eyes slowly shift back to yours, his head still in the position your smack put it in.

What on earth did this crazed maniac want with you? You thought as his gleaming red eyes stared you down, your body shivering in fear. The smell of the blood he was covered in alone was enough to make you pass out, but you really did when his remaining set of eyes shifted over to look at you with a gross wet sound.

Did you just pass out? In front of the man who was about to rip your throat out? You really were an idiot, Sukuna mused. You were an idiot, but you were a funny idiot.

Perhaps it was because he was in a good mood or maybe he was feeling merciful today but Sukuna leans down and hoists your unconscious body over his broad shoulders.

Perhaps your moronic tendencies could be of use to him, he was going to take you back to his castle where you would be his jester, yes, his jester.

Sukuna prided himself in his collection of servants ranging from maids to musicians, what he was missing from his assortment however, was a jester, seems he had just found one. He even had a costume in mind for you already.

True to his conviction, Sukuna did bring you to his castle to be his brand new jester.

Imagine your surprise when you wake in a massive throne room, your body donned in a clown suit. You sit up in confusion, wiggling your feet as a pair of pointy shoes topped with bells cover them.

What the hell was this, was this someone’s idea of a joke? Little did you know YOU were the joke.

Your confusion however, was quickly dispelled when a deep voice cuts through your thoughts.

“You're finally wake?” you didn’t even notice him sitting menacingly on that throne of bones, suddenly it came back to you.

The crazed psycho from the earlier in the forest had kidnapped you, you wandered what he was going to do to you, and most of all you wandered if his throne was made up of the likes of you.

“Be grateful I didn’t end your questionable existence, I have come up with a more befitting way for you to pay for your insubordination” He rests his cheek on his fists as he gazes at you like you were the most boring thing he ever saw.

Insubordination? Was this because you hit him in the face? What did he expect? He snuck up on you like a freak, you were only defending yourself! You were about to voice out your defense when he cuts you off

“You will spend the remainder of your mortality entertaining me as I please. The second I deem you unamusing I will dispose of your life. I know you are dense but am I clear?”

Your mouth hangs open comically as you gape at him (seems you were already settling into your role well) he really was a crazed maniac.

You don’t care who made him King but he can’t just kidnap you and force you to monkey around for his entertainment whenever he liked…right?....right???

You were about to protest again when he uncrosses his legs, settling properly into his throne, as if getting ready for a show, your show. “Now jest for me”

💀😭 Ya'll This was supposed to be a love story💀 but I just can't picture Sukuna being lovey dovey in any shape or form. Low key thinking of making it into a series, clown!reader🤡 x Sukuna what do ya'll think?

On that note, I used Yuji's form Sukuna because let's face it, true form Sukuna is butt ugly 😭🙏 and anyone who says otherwise is lying out of their assss. And before you say it, yes I know yuji isn't six feet tall but menacing 5'8 man standing behind me doesn't quiet have the same ring to it does it?

Feel free to check out my other Jujutsu Kaisen fics and more stories!

[arjudy224]

Alfred’s extra help

Batfamily x new maid part 1

The past couple years haven't been kind to Alfred. Although, he would never admit it... His years have slowly been catching up with him. After a recent attack on the household, Alfred took it upon himself to hire some extra part time help during the school year. The new help just so happened to be a college band kid in desperate need of money. This is how it went.

Jason:

It was the little things, Jason had decided, that made the family enjoy the extra addition to the household. The faint singing that could be heard three doors down as she made her usual morning rounds. Dusting. Bleaching . Sweeping. It didn't matter what she was doing: music always played in her head. If you were lucky, sometimes you'd get to hear it too.

Alfred:

Monday Mornings were Alfred's favorite. After a long weekend of dealing with super-powered vigilantism, Alfred looked forward to the way she would clock into Wayne Manor with shy grin. It didn't take much prompting to get a play by play of how the Gotham U football game went. The Batfamily had never considered her being targeted by Batman's Rogue Gallery until Halftime was interrupted by the Joker emerging from a comically large birthday cake. When reinforcements arrived, they were shocked to discover the entire Color Guard beating the Joker senseless with their wooden rifles. To any outsider, this would have appeared to be part of the choreography with the way each guard member chanted "5,6,7,8 SLAM DOWN."

Y/N couldn't figure out why Nightwing, Red Hood, and Red Robin had all come to check on her until Monday morning when the door opened to reveal a hallway full of smiling Wayne's. Even Damian couldn't help, but give her a hug... after an intense lecture on how dangerous the Clown Prince of Crime was.

Even more confusing was the way Damien's older brother, Jason, would always end up forgetting something at the manor when she worked. After chatting for a couple hours, she would say her goodbyes and silently acknowledge the fact he left empty handed... again.

Damien:

Damien admired the dedication on display. In the early morning mist when she thought nobody was awake, the wooden rifle would make an appearance. With the kitchen wiped down and the oven on self cleaning, all there was to do was wait. Damien admired her resilience when practicing rifle. Each brutal slap of the wood and metal on skin had to be painful, but she never complained when the bruises littered up and down her forearms. She was radiant. In her element, it was easy to get distracted by the crisp rotations on display. One day, he hoped she would feel comfortable enough to show him a few tricks... until then he enjoyed his early morning performances.

Dick:

Dick had warned her against working for Bruce from the beginning. The Bats mood swings could drain even the sweetest of souls. The relentless pursuit of a better Gotham has always been tainted by the blood of those lost. Bruce Wayne was not always known as the nicest guy to work for. Yet, after years of witnessing the tragedies of Gotham... Dick couldn't help, but notice the way her eyes shone with excitement whenever they would visit a new part of the city. The alley Scarecrow tested his fear toxin for the first time now is littered with book shops, ice cream parlors, diners, etc. In each street that’s rooted with trauma, a new sprout of hope grows out of the shadows. The quiet formality that he had grown accustomed to growing up in the Manor faded away. It was a nice change.

Tim:

Tim didn't even notice there was a change in the household until he stumbled into her conversation with Jason for the 3rd time that week. Typically, her shift would have been over at 3pm, but since her classes had been canceled that day she had worked overtime. With Jason's sudden reappearance after months of no contact, Tim took note of the way his older brother's voice deepened ever so slightly whenever she was in the room. Or how during Saturday night patrol they always managed to spot Red Hood "doing business" on a building close enough to the stadium to watch halftime. If anybody questioned it, Jason would have fiercely denied any interest claiming that he was merely "watching out for the Joker".

Tim mostly minded his business whenever she was working. His night life tended to consume most of his waking time, so if he got sleep (big if) he tended to wake up hours after she left. Mostly he appreciated the cute little animals she would make out of the groceries that week. One day, he opened the fridge to a cheese ball that looked like a turkey. Two olives made the eyes and each of the turkeys feathers were made out of crackers. His favorite had to be when she made a Robin out of Bell peppers and Grapes. Tim had left his sketchbook out the night before flipped to that exact drawing. After she had cleaned the kitchen, she left the treat along with a note explaining how beautiful she thought the drawing was.

[direwolfrules]

As much as I clown on the Suzanne Selfors Ever After High books, they did introduce two things that I think we as a fandom need to focus on more.

1. The sheer “And they were roommates”, “Good luck, babe!” energy of Queen Charming x Maid Marian. Charmaiden in general really, the Darling book really made those two a ship. I don’t know if Suzanne Selfors intended for the Darling book to have so much queer subtext oozing off the page every time a female character was present, but it did.

2. Darling’s horse, Sir Gallopad, has the ability to magically camouflage himself. He can change color at will.

[thebunnednun]

New profile pic!! Oh and updates 4/14/2024 (Master list too)

Finally, something that looks like me!

Oh, btw the names Angellica or Angie for short. I don't mind being called BUNNEDNUN either babes.

My wifey: @elarakive

My sister friend: @thealtofvalleyxdoodles My girl: @orange-milky

MY ARTIST: @willnetries

You guys should see the full banner its a fucking shame I can't use it in the background of my PFP bc 'der file too big' blah blah blah

I also made a ko-fi now!! Please feel free to check it out! <33

Now let's get down to business,

An updated schedule will be as follows:

Mundane Monday: The beginning of the week is always dreadful so let's make it fun with some crack fics. Memes, Memes, MEMES galore!

Tearful Tuesdays: Angst posts will be the main thing on here. I'm thinking of some hurt and comfort fics. I'm already working on a Buggy fic for this. I'm not opposed to happy endings but in general, think of an onion cutting itself for these. They don't all have to be romantic and I'm creating something for Trafalgar Law here.

Wonderful Wednesdays: I will update two of the current fan series on this day maybe three if I have the time. So far the list includes:

OP:

The One Piece Master List

Enchanted meeting (Buggy The Clown x Straw-hat reader)

Shadows of the Blade (Dracule Mihawk x Assassin reader)

Capturing hearts (Iñaki Godoy x Photographer reader)

Whispers of the heart (Dracule Mihawk x Maid (Pirate Queen) reader)

*Shadows in the Night! (Trafalgar D. Water Law x Ethereal spirit! Reader)

MHA:

The mha masterlist

The Imperfects:

Please Don't Hate Me! (Juan Ruiz x Imperfect reader

My John Wick shit:

The Fawn and the Wolf: prt1, prt2, prt3

Thoughtful Thursdays: Just some random conversations and ideas thrown out there. I'll try to host polls so you guys can vote on what you want next. Basically a rest day for me though because there's just no way I could write everything in one shot. (/@ ~@)/~* I've tried and it ends with me updating around 3AM or sum.

Follower Fridays: Requests from followers are posted. If you have a story request or anything you want to ask go ahead and do so on this day. Just make sure you send them in early so I can get to it in time. If you send something the day of I might be able to make it happen.

Sexy Saturdays: Send me your best Saturday night requests: ie dancing, funny adventures, or crazy antis with the one-piece crew or another fandom. I'm very familiar with Naruto and MHA (and any other anime honestly I doubt there's anything you could request that I don't know.)

It's all about having fun and having those Saturday night vibes babe!~

Sweet Sundays: Romantic One-shot posts! Any character of age and as long as it's not a child. I would be open to doing a reader insert where they are a parent or parental figure though. I find them to be very endearing.

As always your requests are welcomed and comments are very much appreciated. Sorry again for being gone for so long. I want to pick up my serious especially and make the chapters juicy again.

Thank you guys again for your patience and understanding.<<333

Don't forget to check out my a03 account of the same name!!

My new goals are to keep up with the schedule and get 50 followers by the end of the month! I wanna keep growing our family. :3

Most of all, remember that you are safe here and loved.

Until next time my loves!~

[bonbonchocolates]

Clown

Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Summary: When the past comes back.....

Warnings: yandere jungkook, stalking, mentions of death (of minor characters), obsessive behaviour

A/N: Again originally from my Wattpad account. I hope you like it and if you did please leave a like.

Masterlist

___________________________________________

"Kookie"

A nine year old ran towards her best friend and engulfed him into a hug. Her friend hugged her back with a smile on her face.

"Doll, I wanted to tell you something."

These words of the boy grabbed the girls attention. She looked up towards her friend with eyes filled with curiosity. The boy was almost a feet taller than her since he was older than her.

"I like you very much doll. I thought rich people were arrogant and selfish but it all changed when I met you. Doll, will stay with me forever? Will you be my wife in the future?"

The girl didn't take a single word of the boy seriously. She was too small and dumb to understand what he meant.

"Kook-"

Before the girl could speak further her mother grabbed her and pulled her away from the boy. She then slapped the boy which made the boy's face turn to the side.

"How dare you touch my daughter? You low class peasant, stay at your limits. Don't forget that your father is a clown in a circus and your mother is a maid at our house. How can you even think that my daughter will ever marry you?"

The little girl stared at her mother, confusion was written all over her face. She than turn towards her friend and found that his eyes were filled with tears. She felt a pang in her heart. She tried to escape her mother's hold and run towards her friend and hug him but her mother tightened her hold on her arm.

"I'll fire your mother from her work and you, don't ever show your face to my daughter ever again."

With that she dragged her daughter with her. The boy just stared at both of them. Unknowingly a drop of tear escaped his eyes. He felt humiliated and didn't want to stay there any longer. So he ran away from there and promised to never return back ever again.

____________________________________________

"Mom please don't leave me."

A thirteen year old boy cried holding his death mother's hand with his. His mother committed suicide because she was humiliated and fired from her job. The boy tried to call his father but he didn't pick up the call.

This evening after he came back home he found his mother dead, lying in her own pool of blood. A blade lay beside her dead body. His heart broke when he saw his mother in such a condition. He refused to believe his mother is no longer with him and kept calling his mother in hope that she might listen to him and wake up.

He even tried calling his dad but he didn't pick up the call. He knew the reason why his mother committed suicide. His mother was the only earner in their house. His father spent all his money on alcohol. After his mother lost her job now no one was there to earn and she couldn't handle the shock and took such a big step.

After a few minutes of crying he finally stopped. Now his eyes were filled with the desire of revenge instead of tears. He decided that he will take his revenge from the ones who are responsible for his mother's death. He then started to laugh like a crazy person.

____________________________________________

8 years later:

"Y/Niee did you hear about the murder in the circus?"

Your friend asked you and you nodded your head. How could you not know about it? Right now it was the hot topic of your town. You lived in a small town and it was quite peaceful here until day before yesterday. A clown was murdered brutally in the circus. Even his face could not be identified.

"Yes I know"

"We need to be careful Y/Niee, what if the killer comes after us next?"

"Why will the killer even come after us?"

You asked, at your friend's silly question. Why will the killer come after you? He is not a serial killer right? Maybe he had an enemity with the clown. You never harmed a single insect in your life so why will a killer be after you?

"I know but we never know."

You just shrugged off her words and continued eating.

____________________________________________

Later that evening you were coming back home after your outing with your friends. The street was empty and there were only few cars in the road. You were walking when a orange coloured balloon came towards you and hit you on your face.

You were about to let it go when you noticed something was written in the balloon. You grabbed the string and found that there was a 'Miss Me?' written in the balloon with red ink. You just ignored it and let the balloon go.

You usually took the alley to reach your home because it was a shortcut but today you decided to go from the main road. You looked at the dark alley and it gave you goosebumps so you thought it was better to take the long way today.

____________________________________________

Unknown POV:

I was secretly keeping my eyes on my doll to make sure nothing happens to her. Though I hate her parents but I cannot hate her because I love her too much. Last time when I saw her she was only nine years old and look at her now all grown woman.

I blew the balloon I was holding towards her. My heart jumped a bit when she grabbed the balloon and read what I had specially written for her. My heart dropped when she ignored and continued walking towards her home.

Suddenly my eyes fell on someone behind her, it was a boy probably my age. At first it all looked normal but then I saw the but kept following her. Now I understood his motives. My doll had no idea about it. I clenched my fist in anger .

How did he look at my doll that way? No one is allowed to look at what's mine. Don't worry doll I will get rid of him.

____________________________________________

"Y/Niee did you he-"

"Yes I heard."

Another murder in your town and this time it was a college boy. He was murdered in the same way as the clown. So people assumed it was the same killer. The most shocking thing was that the boy's dead body was found in the same alley through which you would take a short cut to your house. Even the time of the murder was estimated to be in the same time when you were on your way home.

You thanked God that you did not take the alley or you might be in place of the boy right now. You decided to never take that alley ever again and never to head home late at night.

____________________________________________

Time Skip:

A month passed and now your peaceful town turned dreadful. Everyday there was a murder and still now the police were not able to catch hold of the killer. Though they were sure of the thing that all the murders were linked to each other. The police also suggested that a clown was the killer because a clown was spotted in the cctv cameras where the murders took place but still they were not able to catch him.

First the people who were murdered were totally unknown to you but recently a lot of people murdered were known to you. For example the bullys of your school who used to often bully you, the maid who steal your money and that creepy man who followed you a few months ago. Oh you forgot one the math teacher of your school who looked at you badly.

You were quite scared to get out of your house nowadays. Your parents were out on a business trip and you had to stay in the big mansion of yours all alone. You were totally freaked out.

____________________________________________

Unknown POV:

Finally I got rid of my doll's parents, they were the reason why I lost my mother. Now I got my revenge. I know if my doll gets to know about her parents death she will break down. But no worries she has me.

No one can come between me and my doll now. She is finally mine. Be ready doll I am coming for you.

____________________________________________

It was quite late night and your parents are still not home. You are getting worried for them. They promised to come back home by today morning but they were still not home yet.

You thought of all the possibilities of the killer- no you should think positive. Nothing will happen to your parents. You tried calling your parents once again but this time it was switched off. Before you tried calling them and they were not picking up the call and it was switched off.

Suddenly you saw a pink coloured balloon coming towards you. You grabbed it and saw it there was a 'Miss Me?' written with red ink on it just like the balloon you found that day. Just then another white coloured balloon came towards you.

This time 'Doll' was written in it. After that a bunch of balloon came towards you. Some had 'Miss Me?' and others had 'Doll' written on them. You were completely freaked out by now.

You couldn't understand from where all these balloons were coming from. You were sure you locked all the doors and windows of your mansion or maybe you forgot.

Doll- why does the nickname sound so familiar to you? It feels like someone used to call you with this nickname but who? Wait- Kookie

"Miss me, Doll?"

____________________________________________

[weeping-statue]

Heh…slicks back hair..

Slips and dies

Okay okay hi!! I love all your work!! If you do yandere content, could you do yandere joker (weeping clown) hc’s for a maid reader?

Omg you’re so cuteee<3 I love you anon, ty for making me smile!

"White roses stained red."

Yandere!Joker x Maid!Reader

Contents; Swearing, Yandere themes, a bit of Nsfw, kidnapping, drugging, stalking, unwanted photographs (basically he takes Polaroids of you to keep for later that you didn&rsquo;t consent too.) a bit AU-ish, he calls you Natalie like twice before he gets it in his head that your not her.

Joker was never right in the head to begin with, and after the accident it got worse. Natalie didn’t survive and he was distraught. Until you came along. A new maid sent to help out. You didn’t exactly look like her, but you felt like it, you felt like home.

Something he’s missed for a very long time, and now that it’s back, he’s not letting it go.

Joker starts off polite, a little stand off-ish too.

He wants to make himself feel welcoming, so he can ensnare you.

By offering up his time for you to talk about your problems, and in return you let him enjoy your company.

You had assumed that he had a small crush on you, because you actually gave him the time of day.

But you never assumed that it would go so far.

Joker would take pictures of you without you knowing, some of when your working, eating, sleeping, or if his thoughts get a little too dark, bathing and or.. masterbating.

He puts every photo on a wall dedicated to you.

He’s stared at that wall for hours, and hours.

Sometimes he’d talk to the wall like he’s talking to you.

Because of this terrible secret, he refused to let anyone clean his room or enter it.

He strictly told you and everyone else to stay out.

At the time you didn’t know which room was his, because it’s such a big mansion, you accidentally stumbled into it on your new route. After your hours changed, so did where you would clean. Nobody told you he resided down there. Nobody stopped your impending doom.

So after entering the room, and seeing all of the those photos you freaked out.

You didn’t know whether you should go tell someone or just pretend you were never there.

But it was too late, no quick thinking could have helped you when joker put a cloth over your mouth, and waited patiently for you to pass out.

Mumbling, “There, There, Natalie, it’s okay. We’re going to be okay..”

Your last thoughts were, who is Natalie, what’s going to happen to you, and will you survive?

Joker had chained your leg to his bed, and that’s where he would keep you.

For the first few months you were absolutely terrified, he seemed to be a bit crazed about having you in his bed. That he finally had someone to call his.

Joker would barely touch you. He’s unsure of his own touch. He wasn’t exactly a good person, he was disgusting, and depraved.

It would take him some time to come to terms with the fact that he’s done this. Most nights he doesn’t regret it. Others he does.

He had come up with a nervous explanation that you had told him this job just wasn’t for you, and that you had quit. The others were quite suspicious of this whole thing, but you weren’t there for long, and maybe you did realize that it’s not something you wanna do for the rest of your life.

After he was out of the woods, it was mostly smooth sailing from there.

Most times he’d keep you drugged. Especially when you were acting up.

Too much loud noises will give him away.

Further into your stay, almost a year or two, is only when he would start getting a bit handsy. More hand holding, and gentle caresses. If you’re bathing, he’ll hover over your chest area when he cleans you.

Joker would have episodes sometimes, where he would grip onto your shoulders, and call you that woman’s name while crying. Saying that he was scared and how he needs you.

He’s traumatized, that much you know. But you’re unsure of how much sympathy will convince you that this situation isn’t that bad.

Sorry if this isn’t as good, I have a ton of asks that I’m trying to get too<3

[calqlate]

LOVE, MAYBE | TWO

— LOVE, PERHAPS

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

PAIRING: crown prince! kageyama tobio x f! crown princess! reader

SUMMARY: after taking your younger sister's place in a political marriage involving the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom of karasuno, you resigned yourself to a loveless marriage. little did you know, the prince has loved you for a while now and plans to win you over.

GENRE(S): arranged marriage au + royal au + fluff + one-sided pining (which later becomes mutual)

WC: 3128

TAGLIST: @deeomi

A/N: i forgot i had already written this and i just needed to edit it LMAO (clown emoji). n e ways, enjoy!

"your ladyship, his highness the crown prince is here to see you."

you were still keeping your gaze focused on the words on the thick management textbook in front of you. as you wrote down some notes on the margin of the textbook, you replied, "he may enter."

the large double doors swung open and in walked the prince, in all his glory, except... he had arrived with a huge bouquet of flowers clasped in his gloved hands. this was very out-of-character for the stoic prince, and this shocked the maids and butlers, who had (definitely) not expected to see the bloodthirsty prince with flowers in his hands. all the servants held back their breath as prince tobio walked right up to you, brows furrowed and eyes fixated on his fiancée who had not yet looked up to see him. he stopped short in front of your desk and you placed your pen down carefully before looking up at him. upon spying the grand bouquet in his hands, you raised your eyebrows, "what—"

"these are for you, my lady," he choked out, thrusting the bouquet into your face, "i thought these flowers suit you very well."

all eyes were on you as you awkwardly accepted the flowers, pretty much using your arms to wrap themselves around the lower half where the stems were. you eyed the pink arrangement of roses, asters, and lilies before looking up at the prince, "thank you, your highness. i appreciate your gift."

"do you..." his cheeks turned pink as his voice dropped drastically in volume and he averted his gaze to the side, "do you like them?"

"well..." you paused, watching his facial expressions carefully, "do you want me to be honest?"

he nodded, still avoiding your gaze.

"i appreciate the thought behind this, but..." you paused, then decided to take a leap of faith and be truthful (as he had said), "actually, i don't really like flowers."

an awkward and tense silence soon followed after the words left your mouth. prince tobio was pretty much frozen in sheer shock, she doesn't like flowers?! then again, never did he once thought of considering the possibility that you did not have a liking for flowers.

"i... i see," he coughed. feeling the embarrassment creep in, he said, "i have some matters to attend to, so i'll leave first. enjoy the rest of your day."

with that, he turned and exited your study, leaving you with a bunch of flowers in your hands and deathly silent servants.

"call the two hostlers in," prince tobio said with a sigh once he was safely in his own study, massaging his temples with furrowed brows. is courting girls supposed to be this difficult?

a few minutes later, hinata brought the hostlers in, who were both starry-eyed and were definitely expecting good news out of the advice that they had given to the prince.

"so, was her ladyship completely starstruck? lovestruck, even?" tanaka asked, grinning from ear to ear as he looked at the prince with hopeful eyes.

"did it go as planned, your highness?" nishinoya asked, his smile mirroring that of tanaka's.

the day that hinata had led prince tobio to tanaka and nishinoya, the two hostlers had given the prince some advice on the day itself.

"your highness, do you know what ladies really like?" tanaka said with a sly grin.

prince tobio shook his head, completely clueless. that itself was a given, since the prince had never gotten into a relationship before as he had dedicated his life to protecting the kingdom and learning how to be a good king to his subjects. to the prince, there was no space in his tightly packed schedule for romance.

"flowers," nishinoya piped up, "especially roses."

"why roses, specifically?" prince tobio asked, cocking his head to the side. was there a particular reason why roses were so popular among the ladies?

tanaka and nishinoya would have made a snide comment on how the prince was pretty much doomed to a life of being chronically single if his parents had not intervened to find a bride for him, but refrained from doing so lest they wanted their heads to roll off the guillotine. after all, he was the crown prince, and he was therefore the second-most powerful after the king himself. lopping off anyone else's head would be easy enough for him as long as he willed it to happen.

"that's because roses are a symbol of love in the language of flowers, your highness," tanaka explained, "if you give her ladyship roses, i'm certain that she will be able to see your feelings and accept them quickly!"

"no," prince tobio replied sharply, glaring at the two hostlers so harshly that shivers went up their spines, "she doesn't even like flowers."

tanaka's and nishinoya's eyes widened. this was the first time that they have ever heard of a lady not liking flowers at all. they glanced over at each other with an incredulous look on their faces, is her ladyship some sort of weird recluse?!

"is something the matter?" prince tobio asked, eyeing the two's non-verbal communication in front of him.

"n-no! nothing's wrong at all, your highness!" nishinoya said and shook his head vigorously.

"we're just surprised at how... unique her ladyship is!" tanaka said, faking a laugh, "there's no one quite as extraordinary as she is! am i right, nishinoya?"

he elbowed his friend, to which the latter laughed along with tanaka.

"well, what else do ladies like?" prince tobio asked, a frustrated crease appearing between his brows as he closed his eyes to think of something to remedy that day's situation as well.

"quality time!" nishinoya piped up, and prince tobio flung his eyes open to look at the shorter hostler, "if you spend more time around her ladyship, i'm sure she'll come to notice your affections a lot more!"

"spend time with her..." prince tobio muttered under his breath, then asked, "you mean, i have to set up a date with her or something?"

"not necessarily, your highness," tanaka said, "you can review documents together. you know, you just have to be by her side." he grinned, then continued, "it doesn't matter what you're doing. your presence is all that matters."

initially, you paid no mind when prince tobio said that he would be reviewing his documents while seated in your study. however, after a couple of minutes, you got rather concerned and, honestly, a little disturbed when you could feel the intensity of his gaze on your face. whenever you turned to look at him, he would immediately look back at his paperwork, pretending he had not been staring at you before. after what seemed like the twentieth time of doing so, you sighed and placed your pen down on your desk and looked at the prince, "your highness, please, just tell me what you want instead of staring at me like that."

he turned pink as he turned his head to the side, not wanting to make any sort of eye contact at all, "t-there's nothing in particular. i was simply... resting my eyes."

"your highness, looking at the greenery is a better solution to resting your eyes than staring at my face," you said, pushing your chair back as you stood up, "that being said, do you want to go on a walk with me?"

he whirled his head around and met your gaze with wide, confused eyes. he had never expected you to ask him to go on a walk together, but he was by no means disappointed, nor was he going to complain. instead, the corners of his lips curled upwards just very slightly as he, too, stood up, abandoning his paperwork, "sure. it's about time for me to take a break from reviewing these documents, anyway."

and so that was how the both of you exited the crown prince's palace to take a leisurely walk in the gardens. the air was fresh and the weather was rather cool, and it was all in all a perfect day to go on a walk. the both of you were not linking arms whatsoever and were maintaining a respectable distance between each other. an awkward silence hung in the air as you strolled about with the crown prince, looking anywhere else but each other: prince tobio was doing such so that he would not meet your gaze, and you were doing such because you thought that staring at him for a beat too long would be considered rude and improper.

"um, your highness, about that day," you were the first to break the ice, "i can explain."

"it's alright, it was my fault," prince tobio said, "i should've asked you about your preferences beforehand. i didn't know that you didn't like flowers."

"it's not that i don't like them," you said, "i simply think that they're kind of a waste. i mean, they die after a while, so i'd have to throw them out anyway and it'd be pointless." you then realised how your words could have been misinterpreted as you disregarding the prince's good intentions, so you added hastily, "i mean, i like things that last long. i don't like throwing my gifts away."

"oh, i see," prince tobio said, furrowing his brows together, so she likes things that can be kept and maintained.

"thank you for the flowers, though," you said. he turned to face you, only to see a small smile on your face as you said, "i liked them. really."

he felt his own cheeks begin to burn and he turned his head away before you could catch a glimpse of his red cheeks. he coughed, "i-i can get more for you if you'd like — ah, wait, you don't like flowers."

you laughed, "you learn fast, don't you, your highness?"

"s-shut up, dumbass," he muttered before trudging ahead of you, dying to bury his crimson face somewhere before anyone could catch sight of it and make fun of him for it. rumours of the prince turning red at a mere compliment would overwrite his image of having a cold exterior, which would not be good for him in court.

you watched as he walked on ahead and you picked up your pace to catch up, amusement seeping into your being. this side of the prince was a stark contrast to what you had heard about him.

perhaps he was not so bad of a person after all.

"so, how did it go, your highness?" the two hostlers looked at the prince with bated breath, hoping with all of their hearts that something positive happened this time, or it would really be off with their heads.

"she smiled at me," prince tobio said with an excited look in his eyes, but then frowned shortly afterwards after recalling your subsequent teasing, "oh, but she seemed to be making fun of me."

"t-that's okay, your highness! it's a positive step forward!" nishinoya said and held up two thumbs-up, smiling, "her ladyship is warming up to you!"

"really?" prince tobio looked at the two hostlers with wide, hopeful eyes that resembled those of an anticipating puppy waiting for praise.

"yes!" tanaka said, "so don't fret, your highness! you're doing really well!"

prince tobio's eyes were sparkling again, and tanaka and nishinoya looked at each other. They did not have the heart to not tell him that it could possibly be a negative sign as well, because lady qq might have actually been making fun of him.

"anyway! your highness, there's this last method you should try," tanaka said with a wink, "it'll be sure to catch her ladyship's heart—" — he snapped his fingers — "in an instant! just like that!"

"what is it?" prince tobio was more than intrigued to hear what tanaka had to offer.

"well," tanaka said, a proud grin on his face, "it's..."

"your ladyship, his highness the crown prince requests you to go to the greenhouse for tea with him."

you rubbed your temples. you were fatigued from the lessons from the past few weeks: you had been receiving supplemental crash courses on the additional aspects of ruling that you had not learnt while you were receiving classes as the heir to your father's duchy. a kingdom was far larger than a dukedom, so of course there were more things that rulers of kingdoms were subjected to know compared to those of dukedoms. you had barely been able to keep up, but miraculously, you were still functioning and capable of sitting in your study to absorb more material. maybe it was the studies that your parents had subjected you to that allowed your brain to absorb a little more information.

"alright, i'll go over to him now," you said, standing up.

you sucked in a breath and headed straight to the greenhouse with some maids accompanying you. truth to be told, you would love nothing more than to catch a couple of z's in your bedroom than be drinking tea with the prince. sure, he was your fiancé-to-be, but you prioritised your rest above all. you could not believe you still had the energy to smile and sit there with the prince despite all of your body’s cells screaming at you to get some sleep.

"you're here," prince tobio said as soon as you approached the table.

"thank you for preparing the tea," you said as you curtseyed before sitting down.

"the maids said that you like milk tea, so i've prepared that for today's tea session," he said, "and i heard that you like sweet foods, so i've prepared more sweet snacks."

you noted the milk tea in your cup, as well as the assortment of cakes and scones on the table before you turned to him, "thank you, your highness. i appreciate it."

slowly, you picked up your teacup and took a sip out of it, letting the sweet taste of the drink bloom across your tongue. you could hear the prince talking, but you could not bring your focus onto any of his words at all. it was as though you were stuck in some sort of container made of thick glass and you could barely hear what the people on the other end were saying. you closed your eyes for a second before opening them again, just before you felt something trickling down your nose. you lifted a hand up towards your face to wipe your nose and pulled away before looking down at your fingers, only to see red liquid smudging your fingertips. you looked back up at the prince and made eye contact before you felt all of your remaining strength leave your body and your eyes roll back into your skull.

your vision was coming back, little by little.

it was a little hazy at first when you first cracked your eyes open. however, the more you cranked them open by sheer force and determination, the fog started to clear up as clarity crept back into your eyesight.

"my lady!"

you felt someone grab your hand firmly and warmly, and you slowly turned your head to the side to see who it was. it was prince tobio, who was seated by your bedside with both of his hands clasped around your hand. concern was evident in his blue eyes as he locked eyes with you. you immediately tried to sit up, and he assisted you in doing so, until you were seated up properly with a pillow safely supporting your back.

"how are you feeling?" he asked, his brows creased together in concern.

"i feel fine," you muttered, your voice raspy. honestly, you felt as though you were in a confused daze, as though you had been asleep for an extensive period of time. you asked, "how long was i asleep for?"

"two days," he replied, then his frown deepening as he said, "you've been over-working yourself, haven't you?"

"i..." you were at a loss for words. you, too, were not sure how much or far you had pushed yourself because every single day had passed in one indistinct blur.

"you did," he answered in your stead, "and that's how your body finally crashed."

you stayed mute as he breathed out a sigh from his nose as he squeezed your hand gently, "studying is good, but don't push yourself too hard."

you looked at him with a confused look on your face, why would you care? i'm just someone you're forced to marry, anyway.

as if he could read your thoughts, he answered, "i worry because i'm your husband." he paused, then corrected himself, "well, husband-to-be, but that's not the point."

he cast his gaze down at your hands as he picked both of them up and held them gently, as if they were fragile glass pieces that could shatter with one wrong move, "please take care of yourself."

he looked back up at you to observe your facial expressions: your face was completely neutral and seemingly guarded as you met his gaze. disappointment filled his lungs as he said, "i'll leave you to rest."

gingerly, he let go of her hands (that he had placed on her lap) before getting up from the chair and leaving your room, not before taking some extra precautions with your maids and butler. as the door swung shut behind him, he sighed, looks like that didn't work, either.

"anyway! your highness, there's this last method you should try," tanaka said with a wink, "it'll be sure to catch her ladyship's heart—" — he snapped his fingers — "in an instant! just like that!"

"what is it?" prince tobio was more than intrigued to hear what tanaka had to offer, leaning forward and hanging onto his every word as if he were preaching the holy word.

"well," tanaka said, a proud grin on his face, "it's... to be a gentleman towards her! nothing else beats a guy who treats her well."

"what on earth, ryuu!" nishinoya smacked tanaka's bicep, "what if her ladyship likes guys that degrade her and stuff? you know, the mean types!"

"i don't think she does," tanaka retorted with a frown, "what kind of crazy psycho—" — then, upon remembering that he was talking about the future crown princess here, he quickly stopped himself mid-sentence and changed his words — "i mean, person would reject flowers?" he added, "my guess is that she's not the innocent sort that would love a bad boy to sweep her off her feet." he grinned, "wanna bet, noya?"

i suppose it's another fail today, then, prince tobio sighed as he walked down the hallway.

however, if he had chosen to turn around and take a sneak peek into the room, he would have seen the telltale blush rising on your cheeks.

[cutiepoototie3]

Bowser, My Love! I Will Free You!

Chapter 3: The Imposter Princess

Bowser x possessive crazy princess

Summary:

Princess Puffina thought she had it all figured out. With a flawless disguise and a cunning plan, she’s convinced she’s finally won Bowser’s heart. But as the real Peach fades into the background, Bowser’s growing suspicion starts to put her perfect act in jeopardy. Her obsession with him makes her push deeper into her role, but Bowser starts noticing the small things—her eagerness that doesn’t quite match Peach’s usual grace. As their tangled web of deception grows, will Puffina’s carefully crafted illusion fall apart, or will Bowser’s heart remain swayed by her devotion?

SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. I had this ready a while ago but I wanted to review it but I’m too tired to change anything and I will say the ending to me is kinda bad but oh well! 😀 But I hope this is good! Enjoy!

Chapter 2 Bowser, My Love, I will Free You!

Ao3 link —-> click here!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Princess Puffina leaned forward over her bubbling cauldron, her fingers gripping the edge as she stared at Bowser’s lovesick expression.

Her eye twitched.

“Playing hard to get?!”

Her Bowser—her darling, powerful, magnificent, fire-breathing king—was still wasting his time pining over that sickly-sweet, over-glorified mushroom farmer?!

Her nails dug into the crystal material of the cauldron stand as she watched him caress that hideous statue of Peach.

Peach. Peach. Peach.

Everything was always about Peach.

Her lips curled into a tight, forced smile.

“Fine.”

If Bowser wanted Peach… she would give him Peach.

But not the one he was chasing after.

No, no, no.

She would give him the princess he truly deserved.

And he would never know what hit him.

What she had learned about Bowser’s plan was simple:

One—Bowser would station troops at every entrance of his castle to prepare for any pesky interference from those Mario brothers.

Two—When Bowser barged into the Mushroom Kingdom, two koopas would throw down smoke bombs for distraction, giving him just enough time to snatch Princess Peach from her throne.

Three—With the help of a Koopa Clown Car, he would then soar away, victorious, taking Peach back to his ship as his captive queen.

Puffina twirled in place, clasping her hands together.

“Oh, it’s perfect! It’s too easy!” she giggled, spinning toward the large planning board she had set up in her private study.

Pinned to it were maps, notes, sketches of Bowser, and—most notably—a large, hand-drawn portrait of Peach with devil horns doodled over her head.

She twirled a marker between her fingers before drawing a large X over Peach’s face.

“I’ll take her place!”

She threw her head back in laughter—loud, triumphant, borderline villainous.

But her moment was rudely interrupted by a soft knock at her door.

“Miss? Are you alright in there?”

Puffina froze, mid-laugh.

“Nepheli?” she called, recognizing the voice of her longtime trusted maid.

She quickly smoothed out her dress before opening the door to reveal Nepheli—a gentle, elderly woman with kind eyes and a face lined with years of patience.

Nepheli smiled, but there was a flicker of concern in her expression. “Miss, you’ve been cooped up all day. Are you well? I know you’ve been… busy lately, but nonetheless, we are all worried.”

Puffina huffed, stepping aside to let the maid in.

Nepheli entered, setting down a tray of tea and pastries on a nearby table.

“Here. I brought your favorite.”

Puffina sighed dramatically before slumping into her plush, cloud-like chair.

“Oh, Nepheli, it’s all too hard!” she whined. *“I have to be brilliant! Beautiful! Strategic! And yet, my poor Bowser is still blinded by that—” she waved a hand dismissively, ”—that princess!”

She snatched a pastry from the tray, angrily chomping down.

Nepheli remained silent for a moment before clearing her throat.

“Princess Peach?” she asked, wary.

She knew all too well that her princess had… strong feelings about the Mushroom Kingdom’s ruler.

Puffina narrowed her eyes. “Yes! What do you think about her?” she asked, taking another aggressive bite.

Nepheli hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Well… I suppose she’s quite lovely.”

Puffina puffed up instantly, her expression souring.

But before she could interrupt, Nepheli added smoothly, “But not as lovely as you, my princess.”

Puffina paused.

Then, she smirked, crossing her arms proudly.

“Why, thank you!” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

But her smugness quickly morphed back into frustration as she grabbed another pastry.

“Nepheli.” Puffina suddenly says as she swallows a pastry I will be gone. For a while. And don’t ask! Beacuse! I might bring a handsome king with me.” She sighs and giggles but quickly goes serious again

“And do not sorry about my safety because wherre I will be I shall be surrounded be safety.” Puffina says hinting that it will be biwser. Nepheli nods and gives a small smile.

“Alright I see. I will be here waiting princess.” The old maid says and puffina smiled “good! I shal be leaving to do studies!” Puffina bolts up grabbing another pastry and once again jumping off her balcony.

“Oh dear she never learned to use the stairs did she..?” Nepheli says.

Meanwhile, in the Mushroom Kingdom…

As usual, the Mario brothers were busy in town, helping fix roads after yet another Goomba incident. Princess Peach, meanwhile, took a peaceful stroll through her royal garden, humming softly to herself.

But she was not alone.

Hidden in the bushes, Princess Puffina lurked.

Her golden yet green eyes tracked every delicate movement Peach made.

How. How?! How had this frail, dainty, sickly-sweet woman somehow captured the attention of her Bowser?!

Even if she had help from Mario and Luigi, what was it about her that made Bowser so… obsessed?

Puffina needed to know.

So she studied.

She watched every movement. Every soft blink. Every gentle twirl of her hair. Every flutter of those annoying, way-too-perfect lashes.

She crawled through the grass, peered from behind bushes, clung to the tops of trees, and even hid behind benches when necessary.

By the time the sun began to set, her dress was torn, her arms were scratched up, and her face was smudged with dirt.

But she didn’t care.

This was research.

And soon, she would be ready.

The day had come.

Princess Puffina, now fully disguised with magic, was hidden deep within Peach’s castle.

Her signature fluffy rosette locks had been transformed into long, golden waves. Her usual extravagant outfit was replaced with Peach’s soft pink gown. Even her voice had been altered through magic, smoothing out her usual excited edge into something sweet and delicate.

To anyone looking at her—she was Princess Peach.

And now… she just had to wait.

She crouched in the shadows, tucked behind the grand throne room pillars.

From her hiding spot, she watched the real Peach, who was completely unaware that her very existence was about to be stolen.

Peach simply stood near her throne, adjusting her gloves, humming to herself—completely oblivious.

Puffina grinned.

“Soon, my love. Soon I’ll be in your arms~”

And then—

BOOM.

The castle doors exploded open, sending Toads screaming in every direction as a thick cloud of smoke filled the air.

And through that smoke—his voice.

“ALRIGHT, PEACH! YOU’RE COMIN’ WITH ME!”

Puffina swooned.

“YES YES YES IT’S HAPPENING!”

With zero hesitation, she lunged from her hiding spot, shoved the real Peach aside, and flung her arms wide open.

Peach stumbled, coughing on the smoke. “Wha—?!”

Puffina arched her back dramatically, gazing up at Bowser like a love-struck maiden.

“OH NO! BOWSER!~” she cried. “PLEASE, HAVE MERCY ON ME!”

Bowser, not even looking properly through the smoke, grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder. Patting her behind firmly. If it wasn't for the commotion bowser would hear a questionable squeak.

“Hah! Too easy! Let’s go, boys!”

The Koopa Troop immediately deployed more smoke bombs, thickening the air into a blinding white fog.

His son, Bowser .Jr, drove the Koopa Clown Car and quickly picked up his father in the process. The two Cackle away in victory.

Mario and Luigi, just arriving on the scene, were already choking on smoke, frantically waving their hands.

“PRINCESS!” Mario coughed, trying to see through the haze.

Peach, still sitting on the floor, dazed, squinted through the smoke.

“…Uh.”

Mario and Luigi both lunged forward, chasing after the disappearing Bowser.

“DON’T WORRY, PRINCESS! WE’LL SAVE YOU!”

Peach blinked.

Then slowly stood up.

“…I’m right here.”

Mario and Luigi froze mid-run.

They turned around.

Stared at her.

Then looked back at the smoke.

Then back at Peach.

“…Then who was THAT?!”

Peach blinked and stood up, patting herself down.

“I-I don’t know,” she said, overwhelmed. “I’ve never seen her before…”

“She looked like you!” Luigi said, ever the worried one.

“Well, whoever she is, we’ve got to save her!” Mario declared, his voice filled with determination. “No one wants to be stuck with Bowser!”

Luigi sighed but reluctantly agreed, and the two rushed off. Peach watched them leave, her mind racing. Toad guards quickly surrounded her, keeping a protective distance.

As much as she’d like a bit of adventure, Peach didn’t want to deal with Bowser, or the possibility of being married off to him again. She had more pressing matters to focus on, after all—her kingdom’s safety.

A princess’s duties were never done.

Meanwhile, as Mario and Luigi were unknowingly chasing Princess Puffina, Bowser landed with his prize on his airship. He placed his “Peach” down on the floor, a grin spreading across his face.

“Finally!” he exclaimed. “I have Peach in my clutches!”

“You’re ours now, Mama Peach!” Bowser Jr. cheered, raising his arms in celebration. “No more running! My dad’s got you now!”

Bowser chuckled, pleased with his son’s enthusiasm. The villainous grin on his face grew wider as he turned toward his captive.

“Oh, yes, you certainly have me now!” Puffina said with a smile and a slight bow. “How horrible! No escape for me now!” She tried to act faint, but her excitement betrayed her—her hands were shaking, and her smile was far too wide.

“How do you feel, Peach?” Bowser asked, his voice firm. “Tomorrow, we’re getting married—no tricks this time!”

Puffina’s heart thudded, and she trembled slightly, struggling to contain her excitement.

“T-tomorrow?? Oh, how lovely!” Puffina squealed, but inside, she was bursting with happiness. Unable to hold it in any longer, she let out a shaky giggle that was more like a squeal of delight.

Bowser raised an eyebrow, confused by her sudden outburst. Why wasn’t she defying him? But he convinced himself that Peach had finally realized how much she wanted him. Although she did have this crazed look I’m her eye.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound more authoritative. “Yes! Yes, it will be the loveliest wedding! Mushroom Kingdom will be there! And all the other kingdoms too!”

Puffina couldn’t contain herself anymore.

Her chest heaved with excitement, and her eyes sparkled with unspoken joy—almost with tears. She suddenly ran toward Bowser, throwing herself at him with a loud squeal.

“Oh, a wedding! That sounds amazing!” she shouted, nuzzling her face into his arm.

Bowser stiffened, eyes wide with confusion. This was not how Peach normally reacted. Yet, strangely, he didn’t mind. It felt different—but he told himself it was because she was finally seeing things his way.

His thoughts were quickly interrupted when Bowser Jr. bounced into the room, eyes full of excitement.

“Wow, Mama Peach is really excited!” Junior laughed. “I’m gonna go tell everyone!”

And with that, he dashed out of the deck, leaving Bowser and Puffina alone on the small balcony.

Bowser turned to Puffina, his expression a mix of confusion and something else. He couldn’t quite place it. Was this how it was supposed to feel? He’d dreamed of this moment for years, but something still felt… off.

But Puffina was already lost in her thoughts, her mind racing ahead to their future together. The plan was working, and soon, she would have everything she wanted.

Puffina, still giddy with excitement, hugged Bowser’s arm tighter as he stared ahead, still uncertain of what to make of this whole situation. He had wanted this moment for years, but now that it was happening… it felt a little off.

He felt like something was wrong, but every time he tried to piece it together, it slipped through his fingers.

“You’re mine now, Peach,” Bowser grinned again, clearly pleased with his ‘victory’. “No more running away. No more tricks.”

Puffina responded with a smile that was a little too wide, a little too eager, and a lot less dignified than Peach’s usual gentle smile. Her eyes twinkled with what was too much excitement, like she was on the verge of an uncontrollable giggle. But Bowser, lost in the haze of his triumph, just attributed it to Peach’s supposed “new affection” toward him.

“Oh, yes, Bowser!” Puffina said in a too-high pitch, her voice lilting with a tone that was definitely not Peach’s usual calm grace. “I’ll be the best wife ever, and we’ll have the most wonderful, perfect wedding!”

Bowser narrowed his eyes, noticing the way she over-exaggerated that last line. It didn’t seem quite like Peach, but he couldn’t quite put his claw on why.

“Isn’t it a bit early to be this… eager?” Bowser muttered under his breath.

Puffina’s heart skipped a beat, but she quickly recovered. “Oh, no!” she said, twirling her hair a little too quickly, “Just so excited, my love! This will be such a perfect day for us!”

She looked up at him, flashing a brilliant smile that made her eyes crinkle in a way that Peach’s face never did. Her lips curled into a too-big grin, with a sparkle in her eyes that screamed childish glee rather than a calm, collected princess. But Bowser was too distracted by his fantasy to notice the difference.

Yet, as he looked down at her with a smile, there was something still nagging at him.

“Yeah…” Bowser said, furrowing his brow slightly. “You seem a little too… enthusiastic about this wedding.”

But Puffina just laughed—loudly. Too loudly. A little too high-pitched and too much like an excited schoolgirl rather than a queen-to-be.

“How could I not be? Oh, my Bowser!” she giggled, leaning against him—a little too clingy, a little too unlike Peach in her usual manner.

Bowser shifted slightly, slightly uncomfortable with how close she was getting. This was supposed to be a victory, wasn’t it? His long-awaited moment where he finally took Peach for himself. But why did this feel different? Why did it feel like there was something missing?

It must be nothing.

Bowser dismissed the thought, but as he tried to focus on the moment, his eyes caught something strange—something he had never noticed before.

Her nails.

Peach always wore soft pastel pink polish, carefully maintained, shining with elegance. But this…

Puffina’s nails were Pastal green! She never worn green!

The color clashed with her whole look. Peach’s delicate, soft nature was never so… loud. But Puffina—Puffina seemed to revel in this boldness.

Bowser’s mind raced, and the more he thought about it, the more details began to pile up.

Her smile, so wide and unnatural, crinkling her face in a way Peach never did.

The way she talked, a little more cheerful, a little too energetic for someone as poised as Peach.

And the way she was clinging to him—Peach was always polite but had boundaries, while Puffina was practically pressing herself into him like a yearning puppy.

Suddenly, it all clicked.

Wait a minute…

Puffina noticed his gaze and felt a shiver of unease as Bowser’s eyes turned from confusion to realization.

His stare sharpened as he leaned closer to her, his eyes scanning her every feature.

“Peach…” He said, his voice low and suspicious. “Why does your smile look so different today? Peach… why do your nails look… different?”

Puffina’s heart skipped a beat. She frozen for a second, but quickly recovered with a flurry of overly dramatic laughter. She was nervous, excited and confused at his comment. This is what he wanted. So why would he question her?? She didn’t really know what to think.

“Oh, Bowser!” She threw her head back and giggled, completely missing the way her voice cracked in her nervousness. “You’re so funny. I just—I’m just so excited! You know how I get! I just wanted to to try a new color today!”

Bowser narrowed his eyes and took a step back. There was something off about her. His brain clicked and suddenly, everything began to make sense.

He stepped closer to Puffina, and then with a flash of realization, he grabbed her chin, forcing her to look up at him.

“Your eyes…” Bowser growled, examining her face closely. “Why are you looking at me like that? Peach would never look at me like that!”

Puffina tried to play it off, but the giggle was nervous, and Bowser was starting to see through her act. He sighed, shaking his head.

“Wait a minute…”

Suddenly, Bowser took a step back, completely stunned by the revelation. He looked at her with new suspicion.

“You’re not Peach…”

Puffina freezes. Her eyes widen in panic. She had been caught, but she couldn’t let him know she was completely out of control.

“B-bowser, it’s me, Peach! I’m just… I’m just so excited, that’s all!” she said quickly, trying to mask the panic in her voice.

But Bowser just stared at her, then his eyes narrowed even further.

“You’re not Peach.”

The suspicion in his voice was clear now, and Puffina realized it was too late to maintain the illusion. Her giggling had become too exaggerated. Her actions had slipped. She could only pray he wouldn’t go further. So much for studying the real peach.

Bowser stood there, eyes narrowing as he stared at “Peach,” his mind still racing through the strange inconsistencies.

“Your smile…” He muttered, “It’s too wide. And you’re so… clingy.”

Puffina, still desperately trying to hold onto the act, smiled too brightly in response, but it was already too late. Bowser was starting to see through it.

He stepped closer to her, his massive frame towering over her as his eyes scanned every inch of her, looking for answers.

“Peach,” Bowser said slowly, “Why are you acting like this? Peach wouldn’t—”

Without warning, he reached up and, with a gentle tug, pulled at the soft curls of her golden hair.

Puffina’s breath caught in her throat, her heart fluttering. The slightest touch from Bowser made her feel giddy inside, but she quickly fought to hide it behind a forced smile. Her mind raced, knowing the suspicion in his eyes was only growing.

As he pulled at her hair, he seemed dissatisfied that it didn’t come off like a mask. So, he gently but firmly reached up to her face, his large hands gripping her cheeks, as though to pull her face off.

“No mask?” he muttered to himself, his eyes growing more serious.

Puffina, while nervously excited by his touch, tried her best to stay composed. Her body flinched slightly under his grasp, but she kept smiling. She couldn’t show him that she was about to lose her cool. “What’s the matter, Bowser? Are you worried about me?” she asked, her voice uncomfortably high-pitched.

Bowser didn’t seem to hear her. His hands gently pulled on her cheek, trying to test if it was fake.

His brows furrowed.

He frowned.

“I knew something was off…” Bowser muttered under his breath, his voice low and suspicious.

He moved closer, his claws still grazing her face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Puffina’s heart was racing. His fingers were so close, and she could feel the warmth of his touch. She felt nervous, but also excited—her plan was almost complete. Yet, at the same time, she was terrified that he would figure it out completely.

But then, just as she felt like she was about to burst out in giggles or panic, the door burst open.

“Mama Peach! Mama Peach!” Bowser Jr. ran in, practically bouncing with excitement.

“I told everyone! They’re all so excited for the wedding! Can you believe it?!”

Bowser immediately dropped his hands from Puffina’s face, his expression turning from suspicious to irritated as Bowser Jr. pranced around.

“Hah, Jr., settle down! This is important!” Bowser growled, trying to regain control.

Puffina took a deep breath, her nerves shifting from panic to relief. She straightened up quickly, her face still flush from the tension.

“Oh, Bowser, don’t worry, your son’s so excited. It’s a big day tomorrow!” Puffina forced a smile, her voice sweet again, as though everything was fine.

But inside, her heart was still racing. She almost blew it right there. Bowser nearly figured it out. And most importantly she was close to just shuddering in his hands and yanking him closer to just smooch is big ol’ face.

“Isn’t it a great day, Mama Peach? Everyone’s so happy!” Bowser Jr. cheered again, as if nothing had happened.

Bowser’s expression softened as he looked at his son, momentarily distracted by the innocence and excitement in his voice. He gave Puffina a sharp glance, still unsure about what had just happened, but he let it slide for now.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great. But remember, Jr., tomorrow we’ll need everything perfect. No screw-ups,” Bowser said with a grin, putting his arm around Junior’s shoulders.

“Yes, Papa!” Junior nodded eagerly, oblivious to the tension between his father and “Peach.”

Bowser’s eyes flickered back to Puffina, but she was quick to act like everything was perfectly fine.

“Oh, Bowser, isnt this what you wanted? Me?” Puffina asked, tilting her head slightly as she gazed up at him.

Bowser blinked in shock. “What?”

She reached down and grabbed Bowser Jr.’s cheeks, squishing them and shaking his little face gently. “And you must be his little cutie, huh?” Puffina’s voice was sickly sweet, and Junior giggled, clearly amused by the attention.

Seeing Peach—or, well, Puffina—interacting with his son made Bowser’s chest tighten with a strange sense of peace. He hadn’t had this kind of family moment before, and for a split second, he thought maybe this was everything he wanted.

But then, doubt crept in.

He still felt a nagging sense of unease. This was what he had always dreamed of: his queen, his family, his kingdom. But something felt strange, like there was a part of it that didn’t fit quite right.

His thoughts flashed back to the first time he had proposed to Peach, and how she had scowled at him—and even raised a spear at him. She had rejected him so violently, and yet he had pursued her relentlessly. But now… there was no fight. No resistance.

His gaze wandered back to Puffina, and he blinked again, trying to focus. When he did, he saw that his minions were now surrounding her. They were staring at her in awe, practically entranced by her presence.

Bowser frowned, his confusion deepening. This… isn’t right.

He remembered the time he had tried to introduce Princess Peach to his subjects—how she had frowned at them, almost disgusted by their presence. She had been frightened, scared of the Koopas and the minions Bowser had spent years building up. But here, Puffina was—completely different.

She wasn’t scared. She wasn’t disgusted. She didn’t even flinch when they surrounded her.

The more he thought about it, the more it didn’t make sense.

His gut was telling him that something was wrong. But what? Why was it so different this time?

“Peach…” he muttered under his breath. But before he could finish his thought, Puffina looked up at him and smiled sweetly. And as if reading his mind she said:

“Don’t worry, my love. Everything is perfect now.”

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part twenty-four: "The Devil and the Baker"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You, Karen, and Marci go Halloween costume shopping. Days later, the three of you meet Matt and Foggy at the bar for Halloween.

Or

Matt uses his hands to figure out what your costume is–-or an excuse to feel you up. Then you both spend a very sexually tense evening at the bar in a dangerous game of secret public foreplay.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 4.7k

a/n: This installment actually has a naughty part two smupdate called "The Leather Couch" to look forward to afterwards. But there's lots of Spicy Matty in this one! You can find all of the installments for this series on tumblr here.

“What did you say you and Foggy were going as?” Karen asked Marci.

Your eyes scanned the rows of women’s Halloween costumes the three of you were standing before, spotting everything from witches and clowns to sexy maids and cats. You still weren’t entirely sure what you were going to dress up as and Matt had been adamant about not sharing his costume with you. The plethora of choices surrounding you wasn’t helping, either.

"Sexy cop and criminal," Marci answered, standing in front of the handful of various sexy cop costume variations. "I entirely plan to handcuff him to our bed in that little orange jumpsuit and have my way with him later."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you," you muttered, eyes still scanning the rows of costumes. "What're you thinking of dressing as, Karen? I'm entirely lost here."

Karen sighed beside you, her shoulders sagging with the exhale. "I don't know," she replied. "I was already a skeleton last year. I just don't really feel like putting much thought into a costume when I'm only going to get drunk at a bar, you know?" Her hand reached out, grabbing onto one of the packages before the pair of you. "I don't know, maybe a pirate?" 

“Yeah, you need something a little fiery,” Marci said, apparently finally deciding on one of the many cop costumes before her and pulling it off the rack. 

You paused in front of a costume, a large smile stretching across your face. Grabbing it, you turned and held it out to Karen. “Sexy viking,” you told her. “Totally you.”

Marci’s face lit up as she stepped over, throwing an arm on Karen’s shoulder excitedly. “Yes! It’s badass and totally hot.”

A small grin was on Karen’s face as she accepted the package from your hand, scanning the image on the front of it. “You two sure I can pull this off?” she asked hesitantly.

“With your legs in that little skirt?” Marci asked her. “Uh, yeah. Most definitely.”

Karen shot you a questioning look, one brow raised. You nodded instantly at her.

“That faux suede bralette thing is screaming your name,” you told her.

“Alright, alright, you’ve both convinced me,” she relented. “I’ll be a sexy viking this year.”

Marci’s mischievous gaze landed on you next, a devious smile on her mouth. “We need to find you something sexy for a certain Mr. Murdock,” she purred.

“Oh,” you said hesitantly, “I don’t know if I was going to necessarily go for sexy…”

“Oh come on, live a little!” Marci cried out. “I’m sure Matt would love touching all of that exposed skin all night.”

Karen held up the package with the viking costume, flashing you the image of the skimpily clad woman on it. “If I’m being something sexy, so are you,” she pressed.

With a sigh you gave in. “Fine,” you conceded, quickly holding up a finger and adding, “but nothing too revealing, okay?” 

Marci grinned, turning and grabbing a costume off of the rack and showing it to you. Your eyes went wide before you immediately shook your head.

“Absolutely not!” you declined as Karen giggled.

“What? You don’t want to see just how much of a good Catholic boy he is?” Marci teased, waving the sexy nun costume at you.

“Uh, his mom’s a nun? Kinda weird right there,” you told her, entirely vetoing the idea.

“Ohh, how about a sexy nurse?” Karen suggested, grabbing the costume and showing it to you, waggling her eyebrows meaningfully. “Maybe he needs you to patch him up later?”

You blushed, the idea sounding a little tempting. He would find it amusing and you were sure he’d make some sexual comment to you later–that alone made the idea even more tempting.

“Maybe,” you whispered. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Oh!” Marci exclaimed, grabbing a costume off the rack and holding it out to you. “Sexy judge! You could do some real fun roleplaying with that later, if you know what I mean,” she said, shooting you a sly wink.

And like hell if that also didn’t sound like fun.

“ No ,” Karen breathed out, her hand flying up and grabbing a package from further down the rack, whirling around to you with a knowing smile on her face. “This one.”

You bit your lip, fighting back the smile that was growing on your face as you eyed it. Marci gasped, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Now that is one way to find out just how good of a Catholic boy he is,” Marci teased. "And you'd look hot as hell in it."

You grabbed the sexy devil costume from Karen; it was certainly not something you’d have normally picked for yourself. It was a short red pleather corset-style dress where the bottom flared out and wasn’t so form fitting that you'd feel too self-conscious all night. Though it looked like it would just barely cover your ass. There was a devil’s tail attached to the back of the dress and a headband with some devil horns. But the sexiest part of it was probably the thigh-high red fishnet garter socks. And like hell if you weren’t getting some ideas about Halloween night with Matt after the bar just looking at this costume.

And on top of that, it felt a little like openly claiming The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen as yours. He was always your Devil, but for Halloween night you could be his devil. And you were sure he’d appreciate that sentiment.

“Yeah,” you said, glancing up at Karen with a grin. “This is definitely my costume.”

_________

Sliding out of the backseat of the taxi behind Karen, you tried hard to not flash anything underneath your costume. The pleather skirt truly did only just cover your ass, which would be dangerous if you had any reason to bend over tonight. Or if you fell in the three inch heels Marci and Karen had somehow convinced you to wear despite the fact that you'd be drinking tonight. 

"You said they were already here waiting for us?" Karen asked over her shoulder.

You adjusted your dress and the devil horn headband on your head as Marci slid out of the taxi after you.

"Yeah," she answered. "Fog said they were waiting for us outside. Just look for the bright orange jumpsuit."

You and Karen scanned the groups of costume-clad individuals along the sidewalk outside of the bar. Marci was beside you, openly readjusting her tits in the skin tight jumpsuit she had unzipped quite low. Karen started laughing beside you and you glanced at her with a questioning brow.

"They're over there," Karen choked out between laughs, shaking her head as she pointed. "I'm sorry but Matt looks ridiculous."

Your gaze followed where Karen’s finger was pointing. The orange jumpsuit Foggy was wearing caught your eye first until your attention slid to Matt beside him. A hand flew up to your mouth as you laughed. Even from this distance you saw Matt grin beside Foggy, apparently hearing your reaction. 

The three of you made your way over to the pair of them, weaving past the groups of people on the sidewalk. You lost it all over again as you finally reached them. Karen was right, he did look ridiculous, but in an incredibly sexy way.

There was a little white chef's hat on his head and what looked like a few smears of flour on his face underneath his dark glasses. The costume he had on was a pair of tight fitting dress pants and a white and brown pinstriped shirt, the sleeves of which landed just before his forearms and left them exposed to your great delight. There was a brown vest over the top of the shirt, and topping all of that off was a dark apron complete with more flour smears. But what was really killing you was what was written on the apron. It read 'Making them buns' and you snorted loudly upon reading it, completely losing it all over again. 

"What are you supposed to be, a chef?" Marci asked him.

"I'm clearly a baker," Matt told her, gesturing at his apron. "Obviously, if I'm making them buns."

"My idea," Foggy cut in. "With how often I've had to hear him tell me about all the cake jokes about his ass recently."

You were biting your lip, fighting back another round of laughs. That's when Foggy realized what you were wearing and he shook his head, grinning.

"Should have figured you'd dress up as a–"

"Shh!" Marci swatted at her husband, cutting Foggy off. "Matt can use his hands to figure out her costume."

You saw the mischievous smirk immediately draw over Matt's mouth and the way one of his brows rose in extreme interest at Marci’s words. The sight caused your pulse to race a little. The three of you had discussed this in the taxi as you rode over and it had sounded like a good idea at the time, but now you were getting nervous at the prospect of Matt openly roving his hands all over your body. 

"Oh?" Matt curiously asked you. "You mean I have an excuse to feel you up right here and now?" 

Yeah, you were definitely rethinking this idea now with that coy look on his face. This man was purposely going to give you a heart attack.

“Uh, I suppose so,” you answered nervously, feeling shy with your friends standing nearby.

When you didn’t move, Karen nudged you forward into Matt, shooting you a pointed look. You turned to her, about to protest, but she was already focused on Marci and Foggy.

“Hey, why don’t we jump in line and give them a minute,” Karen suggested.

“Yeah, good idea,” Marci agreed, grabbing Foggy’s hand. She shot you a sly look as she added, “But I’m pretty sure Matt is going to need more than a minute.”

The three of them wandered off to join the queue for the bar and your attention returned to Matt before you. That coy smirk was still spread over his lips, his gaze never having left you.

“So now that we’re alone,” he said after a moment, his tone provocative and full of meaning as he paused and licked his lips. “Can I try to guess your costume?”

Your eyes were focused on his mouth, those plump, pink lips now glistening slightly from where his tongue had just wet them. Heart rate spiking a little more, you nodded slowly. 

“Here,” he said, hands rising to your waist, but the moment his hands made contact with the plastic-y pleather of your dress he abruptly stopped, a wicked expression forming on his face. “Oh? Was not expecting that,” he mused, both of his thumbs lightly rubbing along the material of the dress.

A smile spread across his face as he turned, trading places with you so that you were standing against the brick wall of the bar and Matt was standing in front of you. To block everyone else’s view, you quickly realized. Your heart thudded a little harder in your chest at that knowledge.

“You’re awfully quiet, are you alright with this?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed out.

Upon your consent, his hands slowly slid their way up your hips, climbing higher as the smirk grew on his face. Gradually they snaked their way up over your rib cage until both of his large palms paused at your breasts. The contrast between the heat of his hands with the cold of your skin in the late October evening had goosebumps dappling every inch of your bare skin. Matt squeezed your breasts roughly over the material of your dress and you gasped out, thighs tightening together.

“I have no idea what you are,” he whispered, tone low and sultry, “but I am quite enjoying finding out.”

“You uh, might have more luck with feeling the back of it,” you told him, voice wavering a little.

A playful noise vibrated in his throat before he gave your breasts one last squeeze, and then his hands were quickly sliding down your body, making their way to the back of the dress. Eventually he found the little devil’s tail and you saw his brows furrow as his hands felt along the length of it.

“Well, clearly a tail,” he thought aloud. “Are you a cat? Even though–” his head tilted to the side as his eyes narrowed behind his lenses, hands still touching the tail, “–this doesn’t quite feel like a cat’s tail.”

You shook your head along the brick wall you were pressed up against, smiling a little. “No, not a cat,” you told him.

“Hmm,” he hummed out, his smile returning. "What color is the dress?"

"Red," you answered quickly.

His hands dropped lower, gliding down over the curve of your ass. Feeling his fingers splay wide over each cheek beneath the fabric, he abruptly gave your ass a firm squeeze next. You bit your lip, fighting the growing heat between your thighs. You both were, after all, still in public.

“Well isn’t this short?” he murmured when the tips of his fingers grazed your actual ass under the dress, the fabric having ridden up while he’d been roughly kneading your ass. “Oh, sweetheart,” he almost purred, both hands having fully slipped under the back of the dress to grab at your bare ass. “Are you not wearing anything under this?” he whispered into your ear, the tip of his nose nuzzling into your cheek.

“Just–just a thong,” you answered, brain feeling like it was turning to mush in your skull with the way his calloused hands were openly playing with your ass. “Wasn’t feeling quite that daring tonight.”

Matt stepped closer to you and you could feel the slight bulge forming in his pants and pressing into your leg. His forehead dropped down to your shoulder, resting there as his nails lightly dug into the flesh beneath his hands. You fought back a moan, trapping it in your throat.

“I don’t even care about the bar at this point,” he said slowly, head still buried along your bare shoulder. “I just want to fuck you.”

A wave of pure want and arousal washed its way down your body and your eyes briefly closed, trying hard to control yourself. “We should–should probably stay for just a bit, at least,” you stammered out. Though your own desire to have his cock buried in you was making you want to grab a taxi and leave, too.

He sighed against your skin, his hands loosening their grasp on your ass and sliding down the back of your legs, but then he abruptly stiffened against the front of you. One of his fingers tugged at the fishnet thigh-high stockings you had on and you couldn’t resist the smile. Both of his hands began feeling around your thighs as a little whine came from his throat.

“Sweetie, are you wearing fishnet stockings and a garter?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

He inhaled sharply, a faint groan coming from him next. “Fuck,” he throatily ground out. “You want to torture me tonight, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“I wasn’t exactly expecting this reaction,” you admitted.

Matt lifted his head, gently nipping at your shoulder. A shudder ran down your spine when he lightly kissed the spot afterwards.

“So what are you?” he asked curiously.

Tentatively you reached down, grabbing one of his hands from your thigh. He allowed you to raise his hand, drawing it all the way up to the headband on your head. You watched as his head canted to the side a bit, eyes narrowing behind his dark lenses as his fingers felt up the headband.

“Ears?” he asked.

You shook your head. “Horns,” you whispered.

A slow, sinful smile snuck its way along his lips. His hips bucked forward into you, pinning you further into the wall behind you. Both of his hands came to land on either side of your neck, thumbs lightly brushing along your throat. You were sure he could feel your pulse jumping under your skin right now.

“You’re a devil?” he guessed.

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding your head. “ Your devil tonight.”

His bottom lip rolled between his teeth, a soft hiss emitting from him as his head turned to the side. You could see his eyes clamp shut behind his glasses before he swallowed hard a few times.

“Do you have any idea,” he said after a moment, voice low, “how hot that is?”

Reaching out, your hands finally landed on Matt, resting them on his hips. Gently you pulled him closer to yourself, grinning up at him.

“I was hoping you’d like it,” you told him, fingers toying with the strap of his apron. 

His gaze finally landed back on you, his jaw clenching so hard you could see the muscles in his cheeks twitching. Your hands tightened along his hips at the sight.

“I’ve got a few ideas of what I want to do to you in this tonight,” he murmured. “So I hope you’re prepared for it.”

“Well,” you teased lightly, feeling a little bold with how turned on Matt already was, “we have a couple of hours here first. I’m pretty sure we can both find ways to…prepare for it.”

His tongue darted out along his lips again, your eyes following its movement. He smirked a moment later, one of his hands leaving your throat, dragging the backs of his fingers over your body as he gradually lowered it between your breasts, down your ribcage, past your stomach, and then finally up under your dress. Without hesitation his index finger slipped past your thong and swiped along your clit ever so faintly. Your body jolted, a strangled moan falling from your lips before you could stop it. Your eyes widened as a thrill shot through you, your mouth clamping shut.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Pretty sure I can get you nice and prepared , sweetheart.”

_________

Your arms were wrapped around Matt’s neck, the front of you flush to the front of him as your bodies’ grinded against each other slowly and sensually to the pop music playing in the bar Marci had picked out. You’d had just enough to drink tonight that the part of your brain programmed to overthink was muted, allowing the pair of you to join the plethora of other costumed bar patrons grinding against each other.

Matt’s hands were low on your back, pressing his palms hard into you to keep you close to his body. Gazing up at him, you smiled at the smears of flour along his cheeks and chin. He’d told you the flour was Foggy’s idea along with the costume–all thanks to Katy and her constant ass comments that Matt had apparently divulged to Foggy.

As if he sensed you looking at him, he glanced down at you, a little smile drawing over his lips under the dark red lenses. Warmth filled your chest, the feeling having nothing to do with the alcohol in your system or the amount of people packed in the bar.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Matt asked. 

You shook your head lightly, a grin on your own lips as you slid one of your hands out from behind his neck. Reaching up, your fingers traced the line of his stubbled jaw, his head leaning into the touch as he always did. 

“Nothing,” you answered, just loud enough that you knew he could hear you. And without your mind overthinking, you blurted, “I love you.”

His smile somehow grew, the corners of his eyes crinkling just at the edges of his glasses. “I love you, too, sweetheart,” he said.

Closing the distance between your mouths, his nose lightly bumping against yours as he did, Matt kissed you. Your eyes closed instantly, head tilting up further towards him as your hand held his cheek. He tasted faintly of the beer he’d drank as his soft, plush lips greedily kissed your own. The hand you had still behind his neck snuck its way up, just far enough for you to gently tug on his hair. The responding shudder from him had you unconsciously grind your hips into his a little too sensually.

Matt’s mouth broke away, his forehead coming to rest against yours. He groaned low and you felt one of his hands snake its way down over your ass and up underneath your dress. Your hips jerked into his, fighting down a wave of arousal as his palm felt around the curve of your ass for a moment. Before you even blinked, his fingers slipped over your covered mound, rubbing teasingly along your clit.

“Matt,” you chided quickly, though his name came out half moan, half reprimand.

His hand slid back to your ass, a sly smirk on his mouth as he gazed back down at you. “What?” he asked innocently. “I’m just checking out this delicious cake I’ve got here. I mean I am a baker after all.”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed lightly and stepped a bit back from Matt. “I think I need a drink if you’re going to keep being this handsy,” you informed him.

He continued to flash that sly smirk at you as he said, “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

A few minutes later you were leaning against the bar counter, drinking back your mixed drink and taking a short breather from dancing with Matt. You’d lost Foggy and Marci a little while ago and Karen had found a cute guy shortly after you’d all done a round of shots when you’d first gotten into the bar. After that, the entire night had been nothing but secret foreplay between you and Matt and right now you'd needed a few minutes to catch your breath. 

Matt was now firmly pressed to the back of you, his partially hard dick wedged between your ass. Bending forward, you wrapped your lips around the straw in your glass and took a drink, intentionally shifting your hips against Matt behind you. His right hand on your hip tightened and you grinned around the straw. 

"Careful sweetheart," he whispered, mouth suddenly beside your ear.

Slightly inebriated, you dropped the straw from between your lips, pushing your ass more firmly into him. He grunted, the sound loud with him so close to your ear, and you felt more dampness beginning to pool between your thighs.

"Keep it up," he growled low in your ear, "and I'll be fucking you with my fingers right here until you're cumming on them and calling me baby over this very bar counter." 

He lightly kissed your cheek and your body trembled at the mental image his words elicited. The hand on your hip slid downward and just underneath your short dress, one finger just barely ghosting your damp mound. You flinched at the delicious touch. 

"Don't think I won't," he warned.

Hands fidgeting with the glass in front of you, your cunt throbbed almost painfully at this point as he removed his hand from under your dress. You were beyond sexually frustrated with whatever this game was the two of you had been playing for the past hour and a half. It was torture and you were almost tempted to see if you pushed him enough if he would actually follow through with his threat just so you could get some relief.

Gritting your teeth, you tried to focus on anything besides the feel of him pressed up behind you. As you were trying to take a calm, relaxing deep breath in, you felt Matt tense behind you, an angry growl rumbling in your ear. You frowned, turning over your shoulder to ask him what was wrong, but you quickly caught sight of a brunette barely dressed at all and wearing bunny ears. Your eyes narrowed instantly. 

"You clearly make some nice buns," she slurred out to Matt, biting her lip coyly. 

Eyes darting down, you saw she had her hand on Matt's ass. As he turned around, her hand fell back to her side and a burning rage began coursing through you.

"Excuse me?" Matt shot out, an edge to his voice as his brows furrowed behind his lenses.

"Oh come on," she said, waving a dismissive hand at Matt, entirely disregarding how upset he was. "You can't have an ass in pants that tight, walking around wearing an apron advertising how great of an ass you do have and expect no one to touch it."

Matt opened his mouth to respond, but the anger rippling through you cut him off before he even began.

"Are you really trying to say he was asking for it?" you hissed at her, pushing off the bar and coming to stand in front of Matt. "Because of how he was dressed ?"

"Well, I mean–"

"You don’t just grab at people," you continued, venom in your voice and alcohol dulling your nerves. "You like it when strange men grab at you? Tell you that you were asking for it when they do? That if you didn't want that kind of attention you shouldn't dress a certain way?"

"Well, no–"

"Apologize to my boyfriend," you ordered, eyes narrowed at the young woman.

Startled, she blinked a few times before pink tinged her cheeks. "I uh, I'm sorry," she muttered to Matt. 

"Just because he's a man doesn't mean he doesn't deserve the same respect as women deserve," you told her. "Remember that."

She nodded quickly before ducking her head and disappearing. You stared after her, teeth grinding against each other. Matt slowly slipped a hand around your waist, drawing you gradually into his side. 

"Not that I couldn't have handled that," he said, burying his face into your hair, "but thank you.” His lips gently kissed your temple which was a stark contrast to how he was quickly tightening his hold on you. “That was also incredibly sexy of you,” he said, “defending my honor and all.”

You unclenched your jaw and focused back on Matt, trying to release the anger that had abruptly overtaken you at the young woman brazenly grabbing Matt’s ass. He was grinning down at you, though there was definitely something more behind that grin. Exhaling a sharp breath, you ran a hand across your forehead.

“Sorry,” you grumbled. “Double standards like that piss me off. And besides–” you began, glancing back up at Matt as a grin formed on your own lips; feeling emboldened by the alcohol in your system, your hand darted out behind Matt and firmly grabbed his ass, “–that’s my ass.”

His hand drew you firmly into him before his mouth descended onto yours. Pulling your hand from his ass, both of yours wound their way around his neck, holding him flush against yourself yet again. Matt’s mouth kissed yours with a growing intensity, but you could certainly feel the restraint he was practicing. You, on the other hand, were already nibbling on that soft, perfect bottom lip of his and needily whimpering against his mouth. Matt was the one who had to break the kiss in an attempt to keep you from tearing his costume off in the middle of the bar when one of your hands began tugging at the collar of his shirt.

“I just want you to know,” he told you, breathing hard as he lowered his face so that his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke, “that I’m going to take you back to my place when you finish that drink and I’m going to fuck you absolutely senseless in that devil costume.”

You swallowed hard as he straightened up beside you, a hungry look on his face as he sightlessly gazed down at you. With a shiver running down your body, you returned to your drink at the bar, quickly wrapping your lips around the straw and drinking the alcohol down. Matt returned to his place behind you, pushing you into the counter with his hips as one of his hands slid beneath your dress, his fingers lightly gliding along your cunt through your underwear. For the briefest of moments your eyelids closed, your eyes rolling back as the straw dropped out of your mouth, fighting back a throaty groan.