#sprout sews

[antidotesprout]

Just about ready to head to their new homes!! Thanks to everyone for your patience, I'm currently working to finish up sketch thank you cards!

[alilbabysprout]

fellow crafty people !! here is a gentle reminder to get started on your hand made christmas gifts if you plan on making any this year <3

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

... I mean, come on. They're the "Huggy Leos." Somebody had to do it.

(Plushies based on Poptart and Sprout, from @intotheelliwoods's 2 Arms Left)

[hihomeghere]

Salt and Pepper | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word count : 1.4k Summary : Arthur notices his hair is starting to gray. I saw a post on here about Arthur with salt and pepper hair and I couldn’t stop myself hehe. Warnings/Tags : talk about death, getting old, Arthur loves his wife, no tb, Arthur and reader own a house, mention of past gang members, cursing, lots of fluff, self deprecation on Arthur’s side, bullets, mention of weight gain (in a positive way)

“Godamn ugly bastard.” Arthur huffed, his gaze piercing as he looked into the mirror. He hadn’t meant to have himself a pity party this morning. In fact he was feeling quite fine this morning before looking in the small bathroom mirror. Waking up next to you always puts a spring in his step. Especially when he’s waking up in a real bed, underneath a soft quilt that you happened to sew in some free time. Mismatched patches and all, it was his favorite thing in the small home you two shared. Hell, you were becoming quite domestic ever since the house was completed.

But he wasn’t exactly expecting to find gray hair sprouting from his hairline. He wasn’t that old, was he?

“Jesus.” He sighed, inspecting further he realized it wasn’t one or two gray hairs, it was almost twenty. Hidden under his longer than normal locks after forgoing a haircut for the last couple weeks. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed them, especially with how much you loved to run your fingers through his hair. Although, he loved it just as much, maybe even more.

God, he needed to get rid of these before you saw them. He was sure you had some tweezers around here somewhere. He opened up your drawer, rifling around for your tweezers. Bingo. His hands gripped the small piece of metal, a triumphant smile on his face.

It was only once he looked back up into the mirror, determined to fix this issue before you woke up, that he noticed you padding into the bathroom. Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle.

“Mornin’.” You hummed, laying your cheek against his bicep, smiling sweetly at him through the mirror.

“Mornin’.” He said, clearing his throat.

“What do you need those for?” You asked, eyeing the tweezers in his hand. Caught red handed, he tried coming up with some excuse.

“Nothin’ sweetheart.” He said, giving you his signature smile, kissing your forehead. He slipped the tweezers into his pocket for safe keeping, at least until he had a free moment without you around. After all those years on the run and he could come up with nothing, Hosea would have been so disappointed in his lack of an answer. He swore he could hear the old man chastising him now.

“For a former outlaw you sure are an awful liar.” You tutted, shaking your head, slipping your fingers into his pocket and pulling out the tweezers.

“Well it ain’t my fault,” He huffed playfully, “Could never get nothin’ past you anyway.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. You removed your hands from around his waist, leaning back on the sink as you looked up at him.

“Spill.” You said raising an eyebrow, your arms crossed over your chest.

Knowing he’d been caught, Arthur hung his head, a low sigh leaving his lips.

“It’s just-“ He cursed, turning to look away from you, “Well I’m goin’ gray.” He admitted, not meeting your eyes.

“And?” You asked in such a nonchalant manner.

“And?” He asked looking up at you, his brows furrowed.

“So you have some gray hairs.” You said with a shrug, “You’re acting like the damn world is ending.” You chuckled softly, a smile tugging on your lips.

“Well-“ Arthur sighed, pursing his lips, he didn’t want to be vain but damn it, it did feel like the world was ending.

“Honey.” You said softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with some gray hairs.” You said, shaking your head, looking so goddamn patient as always. What he did in a past life to deserve you he would never know, he definitely didn’t deserve you in this one. You smiled, running your thumb over his couple day old stubble. He couldn’t help but sigh softly, leaning into your touch.

“Just makes me feel old ‘s all.” He shrugged, closing his eyes.

“Arthur.” You said softly, he opened his eyes. His bright azure pools looking into yours. “Getting old means we’re still alive.” You said pointedly, not missing the way your fingers trailed lightly down his chest.

He sighed softly, anyone who said he was the most like Hosea had obviously never had a one on one conversation with you. You had shared the same dry wit along with being just as wise as the old man. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were more closely related than just being adopted by him as a kid.

As your hand settled over his heart, he couldn’t help but remember a time when you didn’t have this place. When his next breath had been an undeserved blessing. When you and Charles had pulled his broken body off that godforsaken mountain. You were right, he should be grateful for these gray hairs and new lines on his face. Should be grateful that he made it this far out west with you, where the air was dryer and slowly his lungs didn’t hurt as bad with each breath.

If anything he should be grateful that you’re here, here in this house. The house that he built specifically for you. That you’re not buried six feet under like most of the fellow gang members. That you didn’t catch a bullet like Lenny or Sean, how he wished they could have had the chance to grown old. Even as mouthy as Sean was, the poor bastard didn’t deserve that. Lenny was just a boy, foolish enough to be sucked in by Dutch’s silver tongue. He shook his head trying to clear any thoughts of the past.

God, along with the fact that somehow both of you still happen to be standing, the fact that you chose to stand by him after everything you went through makes his head swim. You could have left him at any point, hell he had begged you to leave after his death sentence. And yet, here you were.

“Guess you’re right.” He said, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Course I am.” You teased, a smile spreading across your face. You leaned forward, brushing your nose against his. He accepted your silent invitation, pressing his lips against yours. So soft and warm and inviting. He could feel you smile against his lips. That small smile warmed him from the inside out, nearly making his toes curl.

Jesus, he was lucky. More than lucky, he still couldn’t figure out how he had tricked you into marrying him. He wanted to be the best version of himself for you, he had made a promise to try every day to be a better man for you. You shouldn’t be tied down to a miserable old fool like himself.

As if you could read his mind, which he often suspected you could, your soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Besides,” You began as you pulled away, “I like the salt and pepper look.” Arthur scoffed, shaking his head.

“Really?” He asked, raising a brow.

“Really.” You nodded, running your hand through his hair. “Think you get more handsome every day.” If anyone was getting prettier every day it was you. Your hair was longer, cascading down your shoulders in waves. No longer tied up in a tight braid or bun. You looked relaxed, at peace. You became softer once you both settled into your new lifestyle. Not just emotionally, although you still had that fire which had first drawn him towards you, like a moth to a flame. You were physically softer, your harsh edges smoothing out as you started to eat and sleep better. Your curves became more prominent, and he certainly didn’t mind having more to hold onto late at night.

Maybe you truly did feel the same about him. He had never known you to lie. A blush settled on his cheeks at the thought. He shook his head, a small chuckle rumbling through his chest.

“Yeah, alright darlin’.” He says taking your face in his hands, kissing you again before you had the chance to embarrass him further.

Maybe getting old wasn’t so bad if you had someone to grow old with.

[satorhime]

trouble comes twice ࿐ gojo satoru x female reader. satoru falls ill with a case of baby fever after seeing his baby girl dressed up as him.

content . ᕀ gojo and reader are parents [ referred to as ‘dada’ & ‘mama’ ], brief mention of pregnancy, emotional!gojo, sweet fluff with slightly suggestive dialogue at the end. 

“dada- dada, look at me!” 

your daughter screeches out, announcing her arrival with the bright and melodic babble of a mischievous child. she stands on her tippy toes, her fingers covering your own as she helps you twist the knob and open the door to satoru’s office. 

even now, he forgets that he’s a father, until he is reminded in the most wonderful way. sometimes, your five-year-old will beg to wake satoru up two hours before he has to go to work just so they can play with her dolls together, or she’ll step all over his toes as she squeezes in between him and the kitchen counter while the three of you cook dinner together or like right now, crashing towards him with all the subtlety of a carpet bomb of cursed energy— so eager to show off her costume that her feet accidentally stumble over your heels. 

dressed up as a miniature version of him. 

his lips curve into an instant grin, pressing the button on the screen of the phone tucked between his ear and shoulder to end his current call.  the sound of the higher up scolding him cutting off sharp and abrupt makes his grin widen. they can wait, but his baby girl cannot. twisting in his chair, he catches his daughter just as she collides against him with an audible oof. 

“did we interrupt an important call?” you greet him, a soft smile on your glossy lips as you walk around the large desk satoru is seated at. you pat a hand to his knee before leaning against the edge of his desk. “sorry, i tried to get her to wait.” 

“you kiddin’? nothing’s more important than my two best girls,” he says, tugging at the bottom edge of his blindfold to drag it down, his expression playful as he watches his daughter copy him. she hurriedly removes her own blindfold, a tiny scrap of cloth covering her summer blue eyes. 

“so who are you?” he teases her, twitching one milky brow at the bouncing toddler in front of him. “where’s princess? did a curse finally eat my snotty kid?”  

“i’m the strongest!” your daughter chirps excitedly, crisscrossing two baby fingers to mimic his domain summon. 

your bitty sprout is so precious with her tiny white curls, tied into two space buns and her black blindfold that she scratches at with the back of her fist. not to mention, the bottom half of her cherub face is covered by the high collar of the jacket she’s wearing, identical to gojo’s standard uniform and the result of you staying up all night at your sewing machine, shredding one of his spares into a costume for your daughter. 

looking at her like this, she really is a tinier, stickier version of gojo satoru. 

“the strongest, huh? look at that, you’re already my favorite child. megumi would never offer to take my place so i can retire early.” 

“satoru…” you start, shaking your head in half-hearted exasperation. “when she picks up your sass and uses it against you, i’ll be the first to say “i told you so.’” 

“worried you’ll be outnumbered, mama?” he shoots the words at you, flashing a smile that amusement drizzles from like sweet icing. 

you roll your eyes, and then he turns back to his daughter, reaching down to effortlessly gather her against his broad chest before he pulls gently at one of her fat cheeks, nuzzling her close. “how come you chose to dress up as me, jellybean? it’s not october.” 

“i’m going to a costume party for keigo and haru,” she explains excitedly, her little face brightening at the mention of suguru’s sons. “but mama couldn’t find scarlet witch costume.” 

“oh, ouch,” he whines dramatically, placing a hand over his heart and pretending to be wounded by her open honesty. “wound me some more.” 

“dada, you’re so dramatic,” she giggles at him, and though satoru’s genetics may have overpowered your own for the most part, the roll of her eyes is a trait she learned directly from you. 

“second place is a serious injury, little princess. i should go see if shoko’s awake to make sure i’m not dying-”

“i wanted to dress up as dada because he’s a hero, like avengers,” she cuts him off, so perceptive and honest. your daughter latches on to the collar of his jacket so she can pull his head closer and plant him a slobbery mwah! on his cheek, and if you see gojo’s eyes mist over, glassy ocean blue from tears, you don’t comment on it. 

“down, please,” she requests, grunting and wriggling until he sets her down on the floor with a wobbly chuckle. unaware that her father’s expression has glazed over, his mind spiraling from her words. 

gojo satoru doesn’t even shed tears at funerals, but right now? his eyes flicker to you desperately, and you soften like clouds, nodding silently. 

“sweet pea, the party starts at 3:30 so you have plenty of time to show megumi-nii your costume, why don’t you?” you suggest, giving your boyfriend a moment to discreetly wipe the wet away from his cheeks. sure, he’s seen his students grow into formidable sorcerers that he is infinitely proud of and sure, he may have gotten choked up once or twice while snapping memories of megumi’s important milestones— like his middle school graduation, and that one time he didn’t insult gojo loudly when he picked him up from class in front of his peers— but this…? this overwhelms him, the kind of love he feels right now.

this love… this love is so different, something he’s never experienced before. it’s unlike quick flings brought home from bars, trying to lift the weight off his shoulders for a couple of hours with a pretty face. it’s unlike the near religious idolization from his clan, smothering him with their expectations and obsessive admiration. it’s whole and pure— it’s his family, his true one. it’s you and your baby girl driving away his loneliness like sunlight chases down bad dreams. 

“okay, mama!” she agrees, nodding.

“but go directly to his room. remember where it is?” 

“i remember!” 

“i’ll be right behind you after i talk to your da. don’t annoy megumi-nii too much, ‘kay?” you turn around, opening the door to let your daughter out of satoru’s office and into the long corridor where you watch as she waddles in the direction to megumi’s room. when you can no longer see her, you step back into the office and shut the door before turning to look at your boyfriend. “she’s so excited to go to this party. it’s supposed to be superhero-themed and she wanted to dress up as wanda maximoff, but- are you still crying?” 

satoru barely remembers moving so quick, reaching out to hook one of his strong arms around your waist to pull you into his lap sideways.. he barely remembers cupping your cheeks into his big palms as if you’re his most precious thing, a goddess that carved out a piece of heaven for him to hold here on earth. your body is rounded and soft, a comfort to him when his emotions get the best of him. his eyes, pale blue like the northern glaciers, flicker over your face— to your expression that is more than concerned, and your lips that are parting to ask if he’s okay, and then, he’s kissing you—

you gasp, but your initial surprise melts into love, like a piece of chocolate held between your fingertips for too long, because you know what came over him now. you feel it too sometimes, when you see him bonding with your baby girl. it’s sweet, the way he spells words into those kisses— gratitude, affection, and something a little more primal that you can’t place. 

god, he knows you can feel his tears, saltine as they slip traitorously down his cheeks to pool in between the cracks of your joined lips.

when he pulls away a little, you wipe his wet cheeks with your thumbs, your heart tender from the aches until he ruins the moment by whispering four words against your lips that make your big doe eyes widen to full moons. 

“i want another one.” 

huh.

“are you crazy?” you whisper-shout, laying a fist against his chest to keep him from moving closer and indulging him in another kiss. before jellybean was born, having a child together had not been in either of your wishlists for the future, but two pale pink lines gleaming on your bathroom counter five years ago had changed everything and now, you couldn’t imagine life without her. 

but another one? 

“don’t tell me you’re getting baby fever just because she dressed up as you.” 

satoru doesn’t know what has come over him. he never wanted to have children of his own anyway. it was one of those stubborn pacts he made with himself when he was young and flippant. but seeing his baby girl dressed up as him— calling him a hero above all of his faults and failures— is making him want an entire litter with you, a dream team.

“she said i was a hero. i need to hear that from at least one more little me.” 

“we’re not having another baby just to feed your ego, satoru,” you shake your head. “i mean it so stop giving me that look!” 

“what look?”

“that look, the one that tells me you want to bend me over your desk right now,” you huff, “i have a party to go to.” 

“but she was so cute in her little costume, wasn’t she? we make cute kids, i told you that the first time you let me-” 

“i should have left you at dinner that night.” 

“but you didn’t,” he says, grinning toothily, his long, pale fingers sneaking under the hem of your shirt to tease at soft skin underneath. he’s got you already, and he knows it. “just like you ain’t gonna leave this office without another baby in you.”

꒰ LOLLYNOTE ꒱: waaaah, i hope you enjoyed this lil piece ! this was a bit selfshippy and totally self indulgent but i hope you love it anyways <3 thank you to @sleepygetou for letting me use her darling babie ocs keigo & haru too 🥹

[sinsmockingbird]

SUCCUBUS!COQUELIC | Event

PAIRING: Coquelic x Afab!Reader

WARNINGS: Smut, NSFW, Sub!Reader, Dom!Character, Succubus!Coquelic, Human!Reader, Monster Fucking, Lingerie, Cunnilingus

AUTHORS NOTE: Finally the first part is here! Enjoy a relatively mild monster fucking fic to ease us into the event. Note; Reader is one of Coquelic's concubine.

IT WASN'T uncommon for Coquelic to return to the Garden quite... hungry. You've learned by this point to always be ready for her when she returns, knowing just how much she's craving some delicious essence.

Making sure that her room was tidy and that everything was set correctly, you moved your hands down your body to fix up the revealing lingerie you were wearing, into place. Then you glanced into the mirror inside her room and made sure your hair was neat (it wouldn't be in a little bit).

After making sure you looked good, you glanced over at the clock and noted that you only had a few minutes left. So quickly you settled yourself onto Coquelic's bed and laid down, but not before tossing some rose petals around you and making sure that the lingerie was revealing more than it already was before settling down and waiting.

And you didn't have to wait long.

When a portal opened up in the room, your heart quickly began to rapidly hammer in your chest. You watched as Coquelic came storming through, a scowl adorning her beautiful face. You noted the dark red horns sprouting and curving from her head, red wings briefly fluttering in aggravation, and then finally the slender tail swishing back and forth behind her.

You watched as Coquelic froze as soon as her eyes landed on you, slowly blinking them a few times before a wide grin spread across her lips as her eyes looked you over. "My my, what's this, my little rosebud?"

"U-Uhm, a gift... a gift for you," You answered, feeling your face flush red as you felt her eyes trailing over every inch of your body. "I- I thought you would be h-hungry upon your return."

"Hm, you thought correctly. As always," Coquelic mused as she moved towards you and crawled onto the bed, her tail swishing back and forth behind her in a tantalizing way. "You'll still let me do anything to you, correct?"

"C-Correct," You meekly nodded your head, obediently moving to lay flat on the bed on your back, allowing her to straddle your waist.

"Mm, good," Coquelic licked her her lips in hunger, before diving down towards you.

You gasped as her lips crashed against yours, your teeth hitting against each other as she shoved her tongue into your mouth. You put up no fight, surrendering yourself to Coquelic, moaning at the feeling of her long tongue snake out and swipe across every inch, before almost shoving itself down your throat. You choked for a moment as she stuck her tongue momentarily down your throat, before gasping for air as she pulled away.

She left open mouthed kisses down your jaw and neck, slowly but surely moving down your body, not caring how messy her kisses were, because currently all she wanted was you. She wanted to use you to her heart's content until you were nothing but moans. She wanted to feast on you, because she was in dire hunger for your taste.

Coquelic taked her fingers across your pretty lingerie, before grabbing them and tearing them off your body. As much as she loved to see you, her little concubine dressed so prettily in something so revealing, it was blocking too much of your pretty skin. And she just couldn't have that.

"C-Coco!" You whined as she forced your legs wide apart after tossing your torn lingerie somewhere behind her.

"What?" Coquelic asked, looking up at you with a raised eyebrow, before noticing the pout on your face, and she glanced behind her at the heap of your lingerie on the ground, making her let out a laugh. "Don't fret, rosebud, I'll have one of the other concubines remake it for you."

"Okay..." You mumbled, still frowning. You had spent a great amount of time learning from Garofano on how to sew that, so it kinda hurt that Coquelic could so easily tear it apart without a care.

"Attention on me, rosebud." Coquelic demanded, nipping a bit roughly at your inner thigh, making you gasp and quickly look at her. "Good girl."

Your face flushes red as Coquelic begins to pepper your inner thighs in kisses, moving closer and closer to your dripping cunt. You whine for her, and with a small laugh, she moves her face to where you want her. She blows air on it first, watching it clench and drop more slick, making her lick her lips.

"My, such a pretty cunt..." Coquelic muses, sighing dreamily as she gazes at your hole. You flush red at her prolonged staring, subconsciously beginning to close your legs around her head.

Eyes flashing red, Coquelic's tail wraps tightly around one of your legs, forcefully pulling it back while she she pins your other with her hand, making sure you can't move them an inch. "Now now, don't be misbehaving."

"M'sorry!" You quickly apologize, moving to spread your legs wider for her (not that you could anymore) and lifting your hips slightly up as you presented your cunt for her.

"Good girl." Coquelic purred, softening her grip on you as she moves her head back in between your legs.

You let out a whine of pleasure as soon as Coquelic flicked her tongue across your dripping folds. She smirked and began to teasingly drag her tongue slowly past your lower lips, wiggling it about and making your walls clench around it tightly.

"Mmmm Coco..!" You whimpered at her teasing, pouting once again and staring down at her pleadingly, silently begging her to just give you her tongue.

Coquelic let out a breathy laugh, wanting to tease you further, but the ache of hunger in her stomach made her decide to give in. She shoved the rest of her tongue into your cunt, the pointed tip flicking against every inch it could get a taste of. The rest of her tongue wiggled around inside you, coating itself in your delicious juices.

She let out a pleased moan at the taste of you, her eyes rolling back in her head. She could feel her hunger ache more, needing your cum flooding her mouth. So, without much warning, she began to fuck her tongue in and out of your needy cunt.

You threw your head back, a silent scream leaving your mouth as you felt Coquelic's tongue thrusting in and out with such intensity you'd think it was her strap if you closed your eyes. Your hands flew down to her head, grabbing fistfuls of her hair into them.

You tugged her head closer, thighs trying to enclose around her head and keep her in place, but her tail tightened around your one leg again, keeping it firmly in place while her one hand did as well. You whined at the feeling but you didn't dare fight, instead letting your legs stay spread.

"Taste so good..." Coquelic moaned, the sound of her voice sending vibrations through you, making you jerk slightly, causing her to laugh.

She snaked her free hand up between your legs, settling it above your pussy. She pressed her thumb against your aching clit, putting pressure onto it and rubbing it slightly, immediately making you cry out of how good it felt. She rubbed it more as she continued her relentless pace of her tongue.

You could feel the coil in your gut beginning to tighten more and worsen, making tears spring to your eyes. It was becoming too much, and Coquelic knew that. But she was desperate for your taste so she only went faster and harder.

"C-Cumming!" You gasp out through moans before arching your back off the bed, shoving Coquelic's head farther between your thighs as you reach your peak.

Coquelic lets out a whine as you begin cumming, flooding her mouth. She held your spasming body down onto the bed, while diving her tongue deep into you, trying to drink up every last bit of your juices. She could feel relief flood her system as your taste soothes her aching hunger.

When she was satisfied, she slowly moved her head away from between your legs, licking her lips and chin that were drenched in your essence. You whimpered at the sight, and cowered under her lustful gaze. Her eyes were glowing more red, and you knew she wasn't completely satisfied just yet. She wasn't done using you for her own relief just yet.

ENDING NOTES: Anyone wane to get feasted on by Succubus!Coquelic?

[spitdrunken]

An Order and A Curse

This was a commissioned work! Thank you so much for the support.

pairing: adam x fem!reader notes: incest (father/daughter), very dubious consent, breeding kink, frequent mentions of pregnancy, adam being adam

summary: In life, the commandment 'be fruitful and multiply' had caused you more than enough suffering. In death, your father still does not let up his visits.

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

Heaven is a nice place to live. That’s the whole point, after all. As one of its earliest inhabitants, you’ve seen it grow and grow, fill up with so many more souls. Buildings have sprouted up all around your home’s original location. But with its height, it still towers over the rest of the surrounding architecture. Anyone who wants to enter has to fly all the way up. Sometimes, you miss the sight of empty, rolling clouds. In the end, though, you are happier with the background noise of people all around you. Laughter, yelling, singing, music… During your entire human lifetime, you’d never been around so many people at once.

There had only been you and your family, back then. Your father Adam, your mother Eve and your many siblings. ‘Be fruitful and multiply’ had been the first order they’d received, and they’d certainly taken it to heart. You wouldn’t have cared, had it not been for the role you had to play as their eldest daughter. Childbearing had been your mother’s curse, passed down to you in turn— And, God, did it hurt.

You click your tongue. You don’t want to be thinking about this. It’s been a literal eternity since you lived as a human and had to endure that specific discomfort. You can’t even remember how it felt anymore, just that it sucked ass. In an effort to distract yourself, you close the gap on the article of clothing you are mending. You sigh. It must be the clothes you are sewing that draw your thoughts back. There’s no need for such activities in Heaven, but there is always busywork present for those who need it to calm themselves. You like feeling useful. You always have. When you were alive, you had so many clothes to create and mend. None of your children looked all to similar to you, nor to your father, and they’d always left. You loved them all the same.

With a soft clang, you drop the needle to the table, the thread losing the eye. Your wings twitch, your halo bobs above your head. You’re being silly. If you’re starting to linger on such thoughts again, it just shows that you haven’t been going out enough lately. Suddenly, your legs itch with the desire to run. You need to talk to people, you need to see some of your friends despite knowing the possible repercussions. You know your father is never above throwing a fit over an imagined slight.

You had just placed your hand on the table to push yourself up, when the sound of wing-beats reaches your ears. Speak of the Devil, you suppose. Your entire body feels heavy, and you plop down on your chair. Pretending to be occupied, you grab the clothes you’d been working on once again. You pull the needle through the fabric without noticing you’re not using any thread. Your stomach knots itself with a feeling you’ve stopped trying to define a long time ago.

Your father lands with a bang on the floor of the bedroom, through the window you never bother to close. You don’t look at him. He groans and you hear the rustling of fabric. Something cracks. Without turning around, you know he must be stretching himself.

“How’s my favourite daughter doing today?” There’s a hand on your shoulder, squeezing down. There’s a grin in his tone, as there so often is. You don’t really want to respond. He doesn’t listen, or remember, what you tell him, anyway. That’s just how he is. “What you working on?” You always feel pinned down under his gaze, scrutinized. You hunch your shoulders.

“Oh, you know, stuff. Busy.” You say, unable to feign any enthusiasm at seeing him. Your father never comes to see you without a reason. He sighs, loudly. You turn your chair around from your desk to face him, if only to assure yourself that he doesn’t break anything.

“Okay, fuck you,” he says. He removed his mask while your back was still turned towards him. It sits on the middle of your bed, the mask’s usual ever-shifting expression now immobile. Like you, your father is one of the most humanoid angels in this whole place. You don’t look all that much alike, but people still always pinpoint the connection. “I come all the way here to see my little girl, can’t you at least pretend to give a shit?!”

Is it worth it to pick a fight with him? The answer is ‘no’, and it has never been any different. After centuries of having to regularly deal with him, you know it’s easier to avoid any fight. You’ll just give yourself a headache by doing anything else.

There are many things you could dislike him for, hate him for. You had. Especially when you were alive. When he’d come into your room at night and stuff you full of his gross cum, even when you were already pregnant. But eternity is a long time to hate someone, it’s a long time for the worst to be forgotten. The simple expanse of time has sanded your feelings closer towards neutrality. …You’re still frequently annoyed with him, though.

You force a little smile on your face. “No, dad, sorry. I was distracted, I didn’t mean it like that. Thanks for stopping by.” He’s actually, genuinely a pretty busy guy, and you know it. It’s something you’re glad for. “Did that one, uh, hot chick show up again at your most recent show? That’s what you talked about last time, right?”

It’s easy to get him going. Your father loves few things more than talking about himself, especially about how good of a lay he’s had recently and how hot he is. Whatever. You’ve long since stopped being uncomfortable listening to him talk about his exploits, how strange it might be. His features relax, the furrow in between his eyebrows disappearing. Your father’s mouth slips into a grin that reveals a few of his teeth.

With a snap of his fingers, he makes a comfortable chair appear in the middle of your room like it’s effortless and drops down into it. There is a perfectly fine chair standing a couple of steps to the left. He rambles in a manner that seems endless. About his latest performances, about some annoying subordinates among the group of angels he supervises, and then somehow returning to the topic of the woman you’d mentioned. You hadn’t followed every twist and turn of his stories. Somewhere along the way you had picked your sewing back up. You can listen and work perfectly fine at the same time. With your father, you can come far in a conversation by simply humming and nodding at the right moments.

“Are you even listening, huh, kid? What was the last thing I said?” He snaps out of nowhere. Without giving you a chance to respond, he continues. “None of you ever fucking—”

Your eyes flicker upward, before looking back down at your hands. You speak. “You were saying that she basically just laid there like a…” You push your tongue against the back of your teeth, contemplating his exact wording. “Like a deflated, secondhand sex doll? That the bitch looked like she was dead for a second time, but you came inside anyway?” Without hesitation, you repeat all of it.

Your father’s expression has shifted to something that, despite all of your years together, you can’t quite gauge. Slightly-widened golden eyes bore into yours.

“I listen to what you say,” you tell him to bolster your point. You do. What can you say, the stories he has to tell are, at the very least, always interesting.

He stares at you for a good few seconds longer, before huffing out a breath of air through his nose and turning his head away. “You’ve got a filthy mouth.”

You laugh, short and genuine. The smile clings to your face. “Well, I think it’s clear who I got that from, dad.”

You’re not sure exactly how you can tell. It must be something in his body language that a subconscious part of your mind can pick up on. Almost instinctual. When he looks at you again, the air in the room shifts and any hint of affection on your face is wiped clean at once. You lower your head, staring at your thighs. As if not seeing him makes it any less real.

His chair creaks and disappears with the familiar noise of a bubble popping. “Maybe that’s true. Well, yeah, it is true,” he says. Without looking up, you place needles, thread and fabric on the floor besides your chair. “But maybe we should clean that mouth of yours, anyway.”

You don’t have the time to brace yourself. He is on you in the blink of an eye. The palm of a hand on your forehead, pushing your head up. A knee against your stomach, forcing a choked breath out of your mouth. His leg is cushioned by your thighs underneath it, pressed closely together to avoid him slotting in. (That trick you predicted, at least.) Your father’s other hand traces the inside of your halo. The touch, deceivingly soft in nature, sends electricity zapping through each of your limbs. Your fingers twitch. He’s had centuries of trial and error to figure out your exact weak spots. You imagine that this makes him a better bed partner for you than he is to most.

If the rumours are to believed, most angels fuck your dad just once, and never a second time. You wish you had to luxury of that choice.

Because for you, one of the lessons Heaven has taught you that, same as with arguments, fighting back when your father is horny is meaningless. All your struggling and crying and begging falls on deaf ears. He’ll get his way one way or another. If you don’t struggle, you won’t end up hurt by bruising fingers and a razor-sharp tongue, left without even a hint of pleasure and cum smeared over your skin. Old and, by extension, powerful as you are, you’ve never been interested in fighting like him.

The best thing you can do is close your eyes and try to enjoy this to the best of your abilities. (You wish it weren’t so easy to do just that.)

His mouth finds yours without hesitation. The tuft of facial hair on his chin rubs against your skin. It’s a bit itchy. Through half-lidded eyes, you can see his wings fluttering behind him, far from relaxed. Then, the tip of his nail slowly scratches your halo and your eyes slide shut. His tongue prods at your lips, impatient, and he’s groaning even when you do open your mouth. Your father’s hand drops from your halo. Instead, it finds its home on the exact spot where your wings meet your back. It’s not a particularly sensitive spot, but it is one that is rarely touched by anyone, making it intimate. If he squeezed any harder, he’d be tearing out a few feathers.

Your father starts to move, squishing your intestines with his knee. You get the hint. As he glides his tongue over every nook and cranny of your mouth, including all of your teeth, he drops his knee in between your legs as soon as you make the space for it. Even when being rubbed through your robes, it’s overwhelming. It’s the combination of all of it. The sudden shift in the mood, one of your weaknesses being assaulted and the memories of the past clawing at the back of your mind… All of it serves to disorient you, making you almost eager to lean into the predictable, simple mindset of chasing pleasure.

You used to lose yourself in memories during these moments, but he noticed. Your father’s a jealous man. He can feel threatened even by your mind, you’ve come to discovered. At all times, it’s your full attention he demands. When he figured he hadn’t always been getting it… He’s always unpredictable now.

As if to prove your point, he nips with his teeth at your bottom lip. Your yelp is muffled against his mouth. When he breaks the kiss, a string of spit continues your mouth. He catches it on one of his fingers and shoves it in your mouth. It’s with too much force and goes in slightly too deep for comfort. Your chest heaves with a suppressed gag.

Your father laughs right in your face. “God, you look so fucking horny. I know you need this as badly as I do, kid. No one else’s sticking their cock inside you, that’s for sure.” He cocks his head and stares you in the eyes. “Or are they, huh? Maybe I should check.”

Nobody does. You’re not sure any of your chosen partners would have much of an enjoyable eternity after doing so. Most of them are too afraid to find out.

Your father digs his fingers into the folds of your robes and tears them away from your body as if it was paper. Purely on instinct, your wings spread out in a defensive position to try and cover your body. You groan and close your eyes. At least you’ve got another task to keep yourself busy with tomorrow.

“Was that really necessary?” You ask. He pushes your wings back down with ease.

“No,” he says, grinning again. “But it was pretty damn hot, though. Admit it.” Whatever the look on your face exactly conveys, it’s not what he wants. He rolls his eyes. “Relaaax, kid, fuck. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

He’s never been much of a man for foreplay. Your father always has one clear goal in mind, which is to get himself off first and foremost. This time, though, he lingers. The desk behind you digs uncomfortable in your back as you lean back, spreading your legs before he has the chance to force them open. He hums appreciatively. He tears your underwear away with little more grace than he did your robes. His fingers push the skin above your pussy upwards, putting your folds on full display.

You know for a fact he’s not going to put his mouth on you. He lets you go and then crams one of his fingers inside of you with an oddly intense expression. (One of the times you’re once again thankful for being in Heaven. It doesn’t hurt, though it definitely should have.) Your face burns with shame as you move in small increments, trying to get that slight bit more comfortable. His finger curls and prods inside of you. The hand is still gloved.

“What are you doing?” You manage to wheeze out. This is not a part of the usual game you play. There’s no pleasure in it for you and you’re sure there’s none for him, either. All it gives you is a mild feeling of discomfort at the intrusion.

“Do you have memory issues or something? I just said that I’d check,” he tells you. “I’m checking.”

You really hadn’t thought, for even a second, that he’d been serious about that. Or what he’s doing. You don’t think he really knows how vagina's work if you’re being completely honest with yourself. Maybe he thinks your hymen regrows? You’re already dead, but you still want to die.

“Look, I haven’t… Messed around with anyone. I’m not lying.”

Perhaps he’d been waiting for an excuse, because he removes his finger from you just as quickly as he’d put it in to begin with. He smacks the side of your thigh, slightly too hard. “Figured you didn’t,” he says. The smile on his face is shit-eating enough that you’re almost tempted to argue.

All of the momentum his actions had has entirely disappeared. Your breathing slows down, your thoughts drifting. You wonder why he still stops by to come here with you. He could have absolutely anyone else, if he put his mind to it, and yet he comes bursting through your window time and time again. But why? It’s never made any sense to you.

You nearly jump off the stool you’re sitting on when your father flicks one of his fingers sharply against your halo. Your wings are the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor, pushing yourself up against the desk behind you. A moan is wrenched from your throat at the sudden sensation. You’re pulled back to reality at full force. In front of you, your father is groping at his own cock. A bead of precum is already eagerly at the tip.

“Fucking focus. Whatever thing you’re thinking about can wait. We’re about to get to the main attraction,” he practically snarls at you. Then, the tip of his finger rubs over the spot of your halo he just hurt and he stops frowning. “Masochist.”

He pulls away from your halo and lets go of his cock. Your father steadies himself on the desk with one hand, smearing the precum on his palm onto your stomach with the other. The head of his cock only rests at your entrance for a moment before he’s pushing himself in with no consideration for your comfort. You take a deep breath, eyes rolling upward to face the ceiling.

Your father starts to fuck you at a frenzied pace and you brace yourself with your wings to keep steady. Even then, your whole body is being jostled left to right. With the hand he’s not using to keep his balance, he gropes you all over your body. From your tits to your ass, to your thighs to your stomach— There’s no soft expanse of your skin on your body that hasn’t had his fingers digging into it more than once. Despite the sharp, self-serving thrusts he pummels your body with, it’s pleasure that washes all over you. Your father breathes heavily. His tongue peeks a little past his lips and it seems as if he might just start salivating all over at you any second now.

You sneak your hand in between your legs and rub furiously at your clit. While your father knows your body well enough, there’s no one who knows better than yourself how to get you off. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your mouth hangs open, a string of moans and whimpers falling past your lips without shame. He doesn’t make a move to stop you and he never has. Your father hisses out a breath as you clench around him. His hips stutter for a fraction of a second before he has himself buried to the hilt again. Nails scrape at the wood of the desk next to you. With every thrust, the piece of furniture creaks and heaves.

One of his hands finds your stomach again and squeezes. His pace grows sloppier and sloppier. “You remember? Every time I came inside this cunt, it fucking took. You were even hotter when you were all swollen, I swear to—” He cuts himself off with a groan, his cock twitching inside of you. As you continue to work get yourself closer and closer to the edge, you cross your legs behind him as he bottoms out inside of you.

Before you know what’s happening, he’s lifted you up the desk entirely, giving your already sore back some much-needed rest. It also succeeds in putting you on full display on the window you’d been looking out moments before. As if having the exact same line of thought, Adam’s wings extend and fold outward, shielding you from view as much as possible.

You whine in response to the change of position. Not only because the shift has him hitting a deeper, better spot in side of you, but also because your fingers have lost their target. He doesn’t stop thrusting for even a moment. You smear slick all over your skin in an attempt to find your clit and get back into rhythm. The back of your head hits the desk with a thud as a burst of pleasure makes your thighs shake.

“Gonna pump you full, kid.” Your father babbles out in the midst of his dis-concordant thrusts. Though he doesn’t pause for a moment, he’s clearly getting close because he doesn’t even bother to pull out entirely anymore, only getting half of his cock out before his thighs slap against your ass again. That, and the way his voice trembles. “Gonna put another baby in you. S’gonna work out, right? Seed so good, it’s gonna take without a doubt. You gonna be a good girl for your daddy?”

In a display of strength that you would’ve otherwise found him a show-off for, he once again lifts you up. Rather than continue to thrust, he basically lifts you up and down his cock like you’re nothing but a glorified sex toy. You’re getting close and he is, too.

It takes two attempts, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and squeeze. You can’t help it, in the horny haze your mind is in you simply can’t hold back anymore. “C…cum inside me!” You cry out, squeezing your eyes shut. “I need it! Get me pregnant, daddy!”

(You’re only saying that because you know it’ll get him off, really, it’s the only reason, you swear, you—)

The groan your father lets out is utterly guttural. He cums and cums and cums inside you, cock twitching and filling you up until it has nowhere else to go. As for you, you get yourself to cum moments later.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you-“ You babble, not even thinking about what you’re saying and hardly registering what the words actually are.

You lift your head and bash it against the desk again, tongue poking out of your mouth as you grind violently against him. Once it passes, you let yourself drop, acutely aware of sweaty and gross and tired you are.

That is usually where this ends. You’ll be left to the spiraling of your own mind.

He’ll pull out, stuff the cum leaking out of you back inside with his fingers and leave without much more conversation. Calmer, though. It’s always as if some frantic, frenzied energy has been released once he pulls that helmet and robe back on and departs. This time, he takes his time. Even when you expect him to, he doesn’t leave. Discomfort creeps up on you.

He stays buried inside of you, a lopsided smile draped across his features. Your father leans down and pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “Well, that’s why you’re my favourite.”

It’s one of the softest things you’ve ever heard him say. It must surprise even himself, because his wings puff up like a bird fighting against the cold before he folds them behind his back once again. They’re shaky. The muscles tremble and convulse with the exertion from being extended in the same, uncomfortable position for so long.

You’re uncomfortable. You wish he would just leave. This isn’t how it usually goes. You need to be left to your own devices to put the pieces of your pride back together. And yet…

You can’t help but sigh, something akin to a smile tugging on your lips. There’s no name for whatever the two of you have. It’s as old as human time, and you’ve held many different feelings about it, which have all congealed into one unrecognisable lump. You don’t even know what you’re feeling anymore. But you’ve always been eager to please.

“…Love you too, dad.”

[muxshwriting]

blessed to be

Violet Bridgerton x maid!reader

summary: as her maid, you can't help but grow close to the Bridgerton matriarch || word count: 1293 || masterlist

REQUESTED: can you please make a Violet Bridgerton x maid fanfic?? I'm literally so hungry for some Violet fanfics.

Violet Bridgerton needed a new lady’s maid. Her previous maid was getting married and would be released from the household to start her own with her new husband. Therefore, Violet was in need of a new lady’s maid to aid her, leaving the troublesome task to her loyal housekeeper.

A week later, Mrs Wilson approached the drawing room with a woman following behind her. "This is your new lady’s maid Ma’am." She announced.

The woman behind her lowered her head and offered a small smile. Violet returned her smile, introducing herself and learning your name. "I'm sure you'll do splendidly in this household. Mrs Wilson will tend to your needs and show you your duties."

"Yes Ma'am." You hesitated as you turned to leave. "Thank you."

As you settled into your duty, you couldn't help but be grateful for your fortunate position. Yes, you were a maid but you were a maid to one of the wealthiest families in the ton, a family that had (at least) a basic respect for their staff and took care of them. Most importantly, Violet cared. The matriarch would ask your opinion on fabrics and hairstyles and jewellery before deciding.

"What about the emeralds with this dress for Eloise?" Violet softly asked, holding a blush coloured dress.

You scrunched your eyebrows in concentration, weighing up the combination. "Perhaps something less colourful for Eloise? Something like crystal or quartz, perhaps white sapphires. She doesn't wish to stand out by wearing something like emeralds." You suggest, hurriedly adding the honorific at the end, "Ma'am."

Violet thinks for a second before nodding handing the dress back to you to hang up, reaching for a diamond necklace to compare. "I quite agree. Eloise will appreciate your concern." She paused for a moment, "I appreciate your concern."

"Just helping however I can Ma'am."

It was a quiet day where Violet was sitting in the drawing room with her embroidery, and had requested you to join her. You never had time to learn the special embroidery stitches, learning the basics to sew patches into clothing and fix tears. Instead, you carried a few napkins that had sprouted holes, working on them as Violet embroidered.

"Why did you never marry?" Violet began the conversation. The two of you had discussed the topic before, but not the why.

You stuttered out a response. "Having a husband never appealed to me Ma'am. I'm very fortunate that I don't have to marry. I got to focus on my studies, teaching all the local children how to read and write and calculate simple sums. It's not a brilliant education but it's something that quite a few children never get to learn."

Violet smiled. "Perhaps you could finally persuade Hyacinth that her education is important then."

"Nothing will change Miss Hyacinth's mind once she has set it. I'm sure the Governess you employ will do a brilliant job with her education." You laughed slightly. "Besides, I couldn't leave you to-" You cut yourself off, suddenly embarrassed at what you're saying.

Violet isn't bothered. Without looking up from her stitching, she silently reached over a hand to hold yours. Both of you ceased your work, enjoying the silence and comfort of each other's company.

"You're very dear to me Y/N." Violet said quietly, also seeming embarrassed at her own words. "You mean a great deal to the family as well." She was stumbling for the right words to say, dancing around the main subject.

"I feel very fondly of you to Violet." The woman lightly gasped as you said her name gently. You spoke her name, not her title, not ma'am, not mistress. You had called her Violet. Her reaction had you second guessing everything you had ever done as you bundled your napkins into your arms and stood, pulling your hand from hers. "My apologies Ma'am. I shall be in the servant quarters." Your eyes were trained to the ground, inspecting the dust on your shoes. "If you need me for anything, I am simply a call away."

You had just broken one of the biggest class rules of society. Never ever address a person of higher standing by their name. You show respect, you use their title or honorifics, never their name alone and certainly not their first name. By doing so, you were equivocating yourself with her family or her lover.

And you were not either of those things. You couldn't possibly be.

You kept your distance from Violet thereafter, performed your duties perfectly. You never spoke out of turn, offered your opinion only when it was asked for and didn't add any more detail than your mistress required. Violet had an tinge of pity in her eyes whenever she looked at you now and it made your blood boil. You did not need her pity, why was she offering you pity?

In her own mind, Violet was scheming. You thought you were in trouble, that you had overstepped. But Violet wished you would overstep more. She did not mind that you used her name, it stirred a feeling inside of her she had never experienced before, certainly not with another woman. She wanted that feeling to return.

The glowing, pulsing warmth that came when you used her name, when she held your hand. The shivers that tumbled down her spine and sizzled into darkness and dread when you had pulled away. She didn't know what was happening to her, she had never considered anything like this before.

Violet Bridgerton was a mother, she cared for her children above her own needs and desires, right? She had done so for over a decade. But what was stopping her from pursuing her own desires? Anthony was married, there was new Viscountess to herd the Bridgerton debutantes through the marriage mart. Violet could relax, she could breath.

Most importantly, she could chase that consuming feeling she felt when she was with you.

Violet had cornered you in her bedchambers after getting dressed, asking to speak with for a moment. You kept your head down, terrified that you would lose what you had started to cherish, this family and her.

"I don't know how to say what I want to say correctly." She began.

Your eyebrows furrowed as the conversation led down a vastly different path than what you had thought.

"But I cannot remain silent." She continued, taking a deep breath and wringing her hands together. "There is a feeling, deep in my chest, whenever I am with you. It is like a string pulling me towards you and filling my heart with warmth and love and-"

"The feeling like you cannot breath when they are not near. The world seems to slow and mysteries make sense..." You trail off with uncertainty after interrupting her, trying to help her find the words.

"Do you feel it?" Violet had taken a step toward you, her hands hovering by her side, begging to reach out and hold yours.

Silently, you indulge her, reaching forward and taking her hands in yours. Instantly, it's like there is a weight that had been lifted. "This feeling is why I could never marry." You whisper to her, sharing your secret. "There has never been a man to make me feel this way."

Violet sighed. "It was different with Edmund. He was my everything, possessing my every thought and corrupting my mind. He was the air that we breathed, when he- When he died, I locked that feeling away, never wanting to be hurt that way again. I continued to live for the sake of my children, teaching them that love is worth all the pain it might bring."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You don't hurt me my dear." She confessed. "You heal me."

the request is finally here!!! I've got a few others in my inbox rn and I promise I'm getting to them. I just got back from a stunning cruise around the mediterranean so am just settling back into my work routine for the summer x

[pupsmailbox]

DOLL︰PUPPET ID PACK

NAMES ⌇ abbie. adelaide. adorablesse. adorablette. aerlyn. alena. alexis. alice. amaia. amaya. andrea. angeline. ankou. annabelle. annie. antoinette. anxiette. anxious. apricot. asaka. ash. asha. aspen. atticus. ava. avel. babette. babydoll. bambi. bambina. bambino. bashfelle. bashful. beau. bellamy. belle. bells. bernadette. blu. blue. bluesse. bluette. blushe. blushesse. blushette. boo. bram. bronach. bronagh. brone. button. buttons. cadel. candace. carmilla. carrie. catherine. cessair. charlie. charlott. charlotte. chelsea. chia. chica. chirella. chirelle. chiwa. chuckie. claeg. coffin. colere. commedia. constance. coquette. cordelia. corelle. corette. corsette. cypress. dahlia. dalia. damon. darling. dawn. dearesse. dearest. dearette. dearie. deidre. demure. desdemona. devin. devon. doilie. doily. doll. dollaintye. dollawie. dollerie. dollesse. dollette. dolleyed. dollie. dolline. dollita. dolly. dolores. dottie. drea. dread. drusilla. dáinn. eeria. eldritche. elissar. eliza. elle. elodie. eloise. emerence. emily. essie. esther. evangela. evangeline. evelyn. eveyln. faith. frill. frillette. genevieve. genoveva. gia. gladys. glorie. glory. gorey. gorie. gracelyn. gregory. gretta. gwen. gwenivive. haldor. haunt. hiccup. hyde. iraia. iresse. irette. itishree. jabez. janelle. janet. jannet. jinx. josie. julie. juniper. juno. kailey. kanani. kewpie. kiva. krak. lace. lacesse. lacette. lacey. lacie. lain. laintess. lakka. lalki. lavender. lea. lefu. letta. letum. libitina. lilac. lillith. lilly. lily. loaela. lola. lolah. loletta. lolita. lolite. lolla. lottie. lovelace. luci. lucius. lulu. lute. lyla. lys. madison. mahina. mandy. mannie. manon. many. mara. maria. marianette. marie. marion. marionette. marionne. marotte. marrionette. marrow. mary. maryjane. marzana. maveth. meek. melanie. melodie. melody. merripen. miel. minuette. mold. moldie. moldy. molly. moonie. moore. morana. morgana. morgue. mors. mort. mot. muriel. murmur. muse. nadine. nadzen. nancy. nanea. nanelle. nanette. nappi. naz. negan. nekane. nelly. nemesis. nettie. nicodème. niegan. nimbus. nina. nuri. olive. oliver. olivia. omega. panchaali. parner. pinkesse. pinkette. pinkie. pinky. pinocchio. pippin. poe. poppet. poppette. poppy. porce. porcelain. porcelynn. prantika. pulau. punthali. pupetta. puppet. puppetear. puppetesse. puppetette. puppette. puppyte. putala. quinn. ravanche. raven. realiteer. rebel. ribbon. ribbonne. riley. rion. robert. rose. rubella. ruby. sacrifette. salem. sasha. satin. scarlet. sebastian. sew. sewine. shivani. shiver. sidney. smierc. smiley. smilie. softesse. softette. softie. solikha. spirit. sprout. statuette. stitches. strings. sweeheart. sweetheart. sweetie. sweetiebelle. sweetine. sychar. teacup. tearie. teddy. tempest. thalia. than. thana. theodora. thorn. trembelle. trista. ultima. ulysses. vanessa. vera. viola. visage. whisp. whisper. willow. winston. wisp. wispera. wrathes. zizi.

PRONOUNS ⌇ adorable/adorable. ae/aer. angel/angel. anger/anger. antique/antique. app/apparition. bell/bell. berry/berry. berserk/berserk. bjd/bjd. bla/black. blank/blank. bliding/bliding. blue/blue. blush/blush. bug/bug. button/button. cake/cake. car/carcasse. cheer/cheer. cloth/cloth. coffin/coffin. control/control. coo/croon. cor/cor. cor/corrupt. core/core. corpse/corpse. coy/coy. crack/cracked. cracked/cracked. cre/creepy. creep/creepy. cu/curse. cu/cute. curse/curse. cute/cute. da/dark. de4/de4d. de/dear. de/demure. dea/dead. dead/dead. dead/death. dear/dear. death/death. decay/decay. delica/delicate. delicate/delicate. demon/demon. despair/despair. dirt/dirty. do/doll. doll/doll. doll/dolly. dolly/dolly. dread/dread. dress/dressup. dress/up. d♡ll/d♡ll. eer/eeerie. elegant/elegant. en/energy. end/end. evil/evil. eye/eye. fabric/fabric. fae/fae. fi/figure. fig/figure. figurine/figurine. flower/flower. fragile/fragile. frail/frail. friendly/friendly. frill/frill. fury/fury. gho/ghost. glass/glass. glo/gloomy. gore/gore. grave/grave. grief/grief. grim/grimm. grime/grime. gru/grudge. ha/haunt. happy/happy. haun/haunt. hx/hxm. h♡/h♡m. it/it. joint/joint. joint/jointed. joy/joy. ke/ker. kew/kewpie. kill/kill. kor/kor. kor/korrupt. la/lace. lace/lace. lae/lace. lo/love. lo/loved. lolita/lolita. love/love. mad/mad. mae/mae. mari/marionette. marionette/marionette. me/meek. mi/mier. mim/mimic. model/model. morbid/morbid. mu/mutter. mur/murmur. nap/nap. null/null. ny/nym. patch/patch. phan/phantom. pink/pink. pitter/patter. plastic/plastic. play/play. play/playtime. play/time. plush/plush. plush/plushie. por/porcelain. porce/porcelain. porcel/porcelain. porcela/porcelain. porcelain/porcelain. pose/pose. pose/posed. possess/possessed. pup/puppet. puppet/puppet. rea/reality. rest/rest. reven/revenge. rib/ribbon. ribbon/ribbon. rot/rot. scare/scare. scary/scary. seem/seem. sew/sew. sew/sewn. shi/shift. shi/shiver. shx/hxr. sh♡/h♡r. sie/sier. silk/silk. slee/sleep. sleep/sleep. smile/smile. snap/snapped. sneak/sneak. soft/soft. sou/soul. spi/spider. spi/spirit. spo/spook. spook/spook. sta/stalk. sta/stare. statue/statue. sti/string. stitch/stitch. string/string. sweet/heart. sweet/sweet. sweet/sweetdolls sweetie/sweetie. ta/tap. te/teer. tea/teatime. teeth/teeth. thre/thread. thread/thread. thxy/thxm. th♡y/th♡m. ti/timid. to/toy. toy/toy. toy/toytime. trick/trick. un/canny. unca/uncanny. ve/ver. vey/vem. vi/vr. vintage/vintage. vomit/vomit. wan/wander. watch/watch. whi/whisper. white/white. wilt/wilt. wood/wood. wrath/wrath. yarn/yarn. zzz/zzz. ♡/♡. ⚰️ . 🍨 . 🛌 . 🛏️ . 🥀 . 🧸 .

[antidotesprout]

🖤🤍Mini Plush Set Giveaway🤍🖤

GIVEAWAY HAS BEEN CONCLUDED

I'll be giving the pictured submas mini plush set away! Entry period will last from the time of this posting until 9/2/2023 at 10 PM US CST (that's GMT-6)! The winner will be announced the following day, 9/3 👍

Giveaway Rules:

To enter, leave a reply/comment on this post

Everyone is limited to one entry

Winner will be chosen via a random number generator (I'll be putting everyone who enters on a numbered list to assign numbers)

Must be over 18

Keep messaging open at least around the time of the drawing so I can let you know if you've won!

My intention with this project was to give fans the opportunity to have plushes of our lil guys even if they can't sew or afford $500 a pair from scalpers on ebay, so this give away is world wide (barring any restrictions shipping from the us).

Share with your fellow fans to spread the love! 🖤🤍

If you don't want to take a chance and would rather purchase them straight away I will be posting sets up for sale. Follow me if you want updates regarding when those are made available! (Likely next week at some point)

[mahkotakev]

i couldn't find the picture but this was based on sprout and shelly's conversation with her saying she knows how to sew 🫡🫡

i headcannon that she helps the others with their torn clothes hehe 🤭🤭

[dark-frosted-heart]

The Fairytale Keeper’s Final Assessment (Epilogue) - Roger Barel

This is the epilogue to his first anniversary story that I keep forgetting to put out 😅 I did a short summary when the event was going but imo this epilogue is so important!!!

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

“Kate, I have heard of your hard work. As always, thank you. 

Therefore, I’m placing trust in you to assess one thing.

Whether Roger, a cursed one, is worthy of being in Crown.”

(That means she wants me to assess Roger, right?)

As I followed Her Majesty’s elegant script, I understood what she was asking of me.

Perhaps because I recently had my own assessment, she was giving me the same chance to do the same. 

(Both Her Majesty and Victor are fairly impartial)

(Alright! I’ll just have to write a lot of good things about Roger)

(When it comes to Roger, his skills as a doctor are what comes to mind)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Jude…that injury!

Jude: Quit your yappin’. Blood ain’t stoppin’ with all that racket.

Ellis: He’s alright, Kate. Getting stabbed’s a daily occurrence for Jude so he’s used to it. We’ll just have Roger sew him up like usual.

--

Kate: Liam…that injury!

Liam: Ah, this? Al and I were jumping across roofs while drunk and I slipped off.

Alfons: Don’t worry about it. This sort of thing is an everyday occurrence with the cat’s curse. Roger, can you hear me? Please treat him immediately!

~~ Flashback end ~~

(...Thinking back, it’s pretty absurd)

(If it weren’t for Roger, we’d have one or two dead by now)

They can only carry out their missions if they're alive, so having Roger around is really important.

It’s obvious that Roger’s a necessity to Crown.

I sat down in front of my typewriter and tried to write about Roger’s importance.

(Huh, what the…I’m feeling a little annoyed)

I ended up thinking about Roger’s wicked smile, how he’s always pushing me around, teasing me, and treating me like a dog.

And so, within my heart…a little evil sprouted in my mind.

(Maybe I’ll write something about Roger’s bullying for a bit)

I knew I was being petty, but I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance to get back at Roger.

I first typed out “about Roger’s bullying”. 

(Oh yeah, the other day…)

~~ Flashback ~~

Roger: Kate, got something for you. Here.

Kate: What’s this? A fluffy ball?

Roger: It’s a toy my corgi likes. Thought you’d like it too since you’re like him.

Kate: Wha…

Roger: He’ll happily wag his tail like an idiot when I throw it. If you want me to throw it for you, just let me know.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(Com-plete-ly messing with me)

(Ah, that’s right. That day too)

~~ Flashback ~~

Kate: Roger…Roger? Are you asleep?

(It’s rare to see Roger napping)

(Ah, his glasses are crooked…Removing them should be fine, right?)

Roger: …Caught you.

Kate: Please let me go. You were pretending to be asleep, weren’t you?

Roger: yeah. Wanted to catch and give you a little hug. Ahhh, you’re so warm…You’re running hot.

~~ Flashback end ~~

(U-um…that was weird)

(I was going to write about Roger’s bullying, but then—)

Roger: Oh, what’s this about “Roger’s bullying”?

Kate: ……Roger. W-when did you…

Roger: I called out to you, but you were too focused to notice. So, this is a letter from Her Majesty? …She wants you to do a reverse assessment. And you were in the middle of ranting and raving on me being a bully.

Kate: Well…that…

I can’t give an excuse when he’s seen everything.

Afraid that I angered him, I nervously looked up at Roger. I didn’t expect to see a wicked smile on his face.

Roger: Just like experiments are needed for research, real-life experiences are needed for reports, right?

Roger pinned both my hands down on the desk with one hand.

It was like putting me in handcuffs.

Roger: I’ll bully you some more so you can tell Her Majesty. Come on, remember this. “He grabbed my arms and I couldn’t move.”

Kate: Roger…

Roger: “Then he raised my chin with his other hand—”

Our lips were so close that they almost touched. Amber eyes pierced into mine.

Roger: And after that, you can write “he kissed me roughly”.

(Roger’s angry…)

(No, I can’t write off as something as simple as that)

When I stared closer into those amber eyes, there was a hint of sadness.

(Ah)

I realized that I had misled Roger into thinking he wasn’t needed in Crown.

(That’s not true)

Kate: I-it’s true that I wanted to write about you being a bully, but… The only reason I could do that was because everyone knows that you’re someone Crown needs. Besides…um…I need you too.

Roger: Even though I bully you so much that you want to tell on me?

Kate: …Originally it was just some petty mischief. But halfway in, I couldn’t bring myself to write it. I didn’t want Her Majesty to find out about how I…don’t hate the bullying…

Roger: …O_O

Kate: I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, Roger…

Roger’s lips cut off the rest of my words.

He stole a kiss.

Kate: Wha…?!

Roger: You like it when I bully you and your body ends up acting on its own.

Kate: I-I didn’t say that. I said that I “don’t hate” it.

Roger: Sure, sure. Just misheard you with my bad hearing.

(......Geez)

(But I’m glad I cleared up the misunderstanding. I’m glad he’s smiling)

Pulling myself together, I returned to my typewriter and heard Roger’s gravelly voice.

Roger: …I’m glad you think I’m needed.

Kate: …

That voice vibrated against my eardrums and wouldn’t leave my mind.

I couldn’t even look at Roger.

I think my report conveyed how special Roger’s become to me.

Roger poked my cheek while I looked down, feeling confused. 

[rainroses45]

Shattered Glass

☾description: Miguel and you get into an argument which leads you to see a not so pretty side of him

☾a/n: currently for other stuff for him and i just wrote this quickly at night NOT EDITED

☾song inspiration: love in the dark by adele

☾warnings: knife, angst, mentions of blood and puke, kinda yandere

His reflection glanced back at you like raindrops falling down a transparent mirror. Everywhere you turned, his red eyes laid there, following you as you tried to escape his harsh gaze.

Upon the shatter glass, laid the crumble flowers of mother earth, and what appeared to be her salty tears mourning the once’s gifted life. A pink tag ripped in half held two cursive names, one from and the other one to - both sharing a last name by choice, it was never by chance.

“Don’t you see I’m trying Y/n?!” His words ran across the once quiet room, scurrying towards the tippy top of the room searching for space in the already cramped atmosphere of tension.

“No.” You began once more, “No, Miguel - I don’t see, I don’t hear, and I mostly certainly to not feel like you are trying to change!”

“Vieja mendiga me estás cayendo tan mal!” Miguel gritted his teeth as he looked up from the celling then back to you. “That’s because you are too caught in your own selfishness, that you can’t lend a second of your precious time to witness anything other than yourself!” He pointed at you screaming again.

The clock had grown tired of hearing the same words being repeated, that its eyes only rolled back and forth in annoyance. Time had no place in this moment, and even if it did, what’s to stop you both from going all night?

It had been a simple disagreement at first. Miguel desperately yearned to have a child as soon as possible, while you wanted to wait a little longer for the violent, recurring missions to settle down. He wanted one now. You wanted to wait. The rest was history, which caused serval other topics to sprout from that one misplaced weed.

“Oh really?” You placed your hands on your hip, as you leaned forward. Your eyebrows shot up shocked at the words being thrown at you. “Says the man who’s never home!”

Miguel scoffs at your comment, crossing his arms and looking away from your furious gaze. “How do you want to raise this child Miguel?! Hm? Together, or do you just want me to play both roles as you go live in your office for the rest of our child’s li-”

“Enough!” He bellowed as both of his hands gripped his head. His palms covering his ears, in a desperate attempt to sound you out.

“No! No me voy a callar!” You stomped your foot down, shattering more glass, allowing your determined eyes to haunt every angle of your husband’s eyesight.

A silence began to sew its way into the air, making it appear as if all the wounds created were now stitched up to perfection.

Slowly you walked over the glass, and reached out to touch Miguel’s shoulder. A deep sigh escaped you in your tired state, even with this heavy burden of being a superhero, nothing could be harder than staying angry at someone who could die tomorrow.

“Miguel I’m sorry-“ Before you could finish, a blunt force pushed you to the wall, causing the chattery clock to fall down to your feet. It’s arrows spiraled down to the floor as it took one last bow.

“I said enough.” He whispered as his hand grabbed your jaw in place. A look of terror washed over you in gigantic amounts. His claws tug into your bruised cheek, leaving trickles of red to issue out of your veins, in a lagoon filled of bloody roses. So soft, so smooth, so very horrid, yet it blended in with his soul. The eyes always reflect back what’s in the soul.

You froze underneath his touch. A touch you once craved for warmth became the one that caused you whimper from the coldness brushing against your open wounds. Your husband, your Miguel, was now doing something he vowed never to do, and you just hung there - frozen as the memories of all the times he blemished you with his love brushed against your bruised heart in heavy blows.

It was not until you felt heavier in his arms that Miguel realized just what he had done. Quickly he removed his hands from your neck and took serval steps back. The scene in front of him made his stomach turn in so much disgust, he ran towards the apartment window to puke.

You groggy stood up as you held the wall behind you for support. The broken pieces were pushed away with your foot as you grabbed a knife from the kitchen. You didn’t want to hurt him, but he left you no choice - it was either be killed or let him suffer with a knife in the back.

Slowly, you take a peek inside the living room, only to find Miguel already slouched across the window wiping his mouth as tears flood his view. You began to walk back, but without being aware of your surroundings you accidentally crushed a piece of the clock, alerting Miguel to your presence.

“Amor?” He called out unsure if he heard you, or if his senses miss interpreted the noises inside his mind. You quickly hid behind a wall holding the knife towards you. You lowered your mask, allowing the blood to stain its once clean texture.

“Mi vida was that you?” He called out once again, “Please come out. I’m sorry.” With those words, your fear soon transformed into anger - boiling, hot hatred fueled by anger. The audacity he has to try and patch up the damage he has done with meaningless words!

“Lárgate Miguel,” you responded back, still hidden behind the wall. “Lárgate de mi vida!” You yelled out more determined than before.

“What?” He asked softly, still not being able to believe what he was hearing.

“You heard me Miguel.” Your voice surprising didn’t crack as you gripped the knife tighter.

His footsteps became louder as he made his way towards you, without hesitation you climbed to the corner of the celling in a defensive pose.

“Mi vida-“ He turned around believing you were still hiding behind the wall. “Where are you cariño?” Miguel spun around trying to see if you were in the kitchen.

“Ya no te quiero ver Miguel, por favor vete!” You wanted to cry, beg him to leave so you could continue on life without him, but Miguel never could listen. He was too stubborn to open his ears, this was also a component that was added to the argument.

“No amor por favor no digas eso por favor!” He began to beg to the hallway, unsure of where you were. “Perdóname, perdóname mi vida. No puedes dejarme solo, no puedo vivir sin ti amor. No puedo respirar, no puedo comer, no puedo dormir sin tener tu amor conmigo en mi corazón.” Miguel pleaded to the air as our - your tiny apartment echoed back his cries.

“Please Miguel, for me, for us…please leave, I can’t love you anymore.” Tear fled down your face, irritating your cuts, but it was minor compared to the pain in your chest.

Without another word, Miguel turned around to face the corner your currently were being held from.

“I knew you were there princesa,” You look at him in horror as he merely smirks back in fondness. “Pero no quiera decir nada because I didn’t want to scare you. But if you don’t love me anymore, I guess you leave me no choice then.” His movements were swift and precise. Your mask was ripped off of your face leaving your blood shot eyes matching his sinister red ones.

You were a fool to think a silly kitchen knife would protect you against the monstrosity of a husband. Miguel plucked it out of your hands, and before you could escape his grasp a familiar feeling hit you. His teeth tug into you, and before you could kick him off a feeling of numbness overtook your body.

The feeling of defeat never felt better seeing as he won nothing but false hope and life filled with grief. It didn’t matter in the end on how it ended, you will have the last laugh - it was canon.

I need to stop writing sad stuff…welp anywho I tried

[jelly-fish-wishes]

I am not good at posing and the camera man was not good at taking photos lol

But here is my DIMENTIO cosplay! I might get better photos at the convention that’s in town this November though!

The cape took 3 days to sew with an $80(?) usd sewing machine from Walmart (courtesy of @pastelbiohazard )

And the mask took a total of 5 days (not including the breaks in between). Shaped using black paper mache from an already existing mask from Party City ($7 usd) while the pointy bits were made with $1 foam paper and wires for bending ($7 ?). Bells I got for $3.

Both fabrics were $11.99 usd a yard and was enough for both the cape and the mask.

The gloves and black long sleeve were purchased for $10 (gloves) and $19.99 usd (long sleeve) at a Spirit Halloween store and the puffy pans were purchased from Medieval Ware for almost $60 usd (I can’t make pants lol)

I did forget to paint the inside of the mask to prevent sweat. Thankfully it did not get damaged (yet pfft)

I might touch it up before the convention though. I have a black little fanny pack on me since the outfit doesn’t NOT have pockets. I’m also gonna carry some bean sprout hair accessories to give out to people huehuehue.

Oh yeah…I also had to wear a chest binder since…Im a female XHIHSBXKJSQJBXQ. And the shape was WEIRD. (UnfortunatelyIwastoopowerfulforthebinderandtakingitoffisapainintheass)

[lina-fresa]

Unveiled

Din djarin x reader

reader insert wearing face covering, lots of plot, cant guarantee any smut will come. just heaps of soft!din, multichapter.

ao3 link : https://archiveofourown.org/works/58190956

prompt : "You are safe," he said firmly. "You have my name and my family, my clan, and if necessary, the protection of my body as well. The man willna lay hands on ye again, while I live. "

CHAPTER ONE

As the daughter of an affluent man, you were accustomed to being a doll on a shelf. Knowing that every breath you take, every step and everything that you are is being watched. Weighed. Graded. Nothing was your own. Not the clothes upon your body or the hair on your head.

You glanced around you, watching as people bustled about preparing dresses, shoes, undergarments, and jewelry. What a lively room. You're the center of attention, so privileged and pampered. And yet... you are spared little acknowledgment.

“Do show a little more life upon your face, dear.” Verrok, your father, sighed from across the room. His wine glass sloshing dangerously, as it likely was not the first. “You look as though you’re being sent to slaughter."

"Arent I though?" you wondered to yourself

A dry chuckle escaped him as he moved to stand in front of you. Your eyes tracking his every move as he reached a hand out to caress your shoulder. "Such beautiful skin..." he muttered to himself before he once again was swept away by his own voice. Standing still, naked and waiting for the women around you to come with the dress chosen for this evening, you glanced briefly at him as he shouted orders to the staff around him. The women fluttered about, beginning to dress you efficiently in a dusty pink floor length dress with a sheer scarf wraping elegantly around your throat. Like a collar for a slave. A mirthless laugh escaped you unconsciously as your servants laid it expertly.

To be adorned with something of this caliber meant only that vistors would be coming and momentarily you allowed yourself to hope that you would be allowed to eat in the dining hall. Only briefly though, before steeling yourself as your veil was lowered over your head and draped across your face. Simply a piece of light fabric that slipped over your head and wrapped around you delicately leaving only your eyes to be seen.

You couldn’t help but worry your lip between your teeth as a rolling anxiousness settled itself deep in your being. Your father pacing back and forth in his equally ceremonious clothing, the wine glass that had been refilled too many times to count. The maids standing stock still, seeming to hold their breath as they waited to be dismissed. It was all very unsettling.

However, setting your shoulders back and thanking your ladies swiftly, you moved to follow your father - who has again taken to chattering incessantly - out the doors.

The sunset cast an orange glow into the large room, table decked in meats, fruit and vegetables of all kinds. A low growl rolled through your stomach as you thought of possibly eating the food.

There were a dozen people already milling about, idly chatting as they waited. Gazing, admiring the drapes and exquisite details of the paintings, to be sure. Though as per custom your eyes remained trained on the floor, despite how desperately you wanted to see the faces of the beings you heard.

Clearing his throat theatrically, "How wonderful it is for you all to be here!" Virrok loudly adressed the room, widely turning you in all directions to be shown. Your father held onto your arm as he led you on a promenade of the room.

The royals and the rich gathered around tables spoke of your age, weight, countless abilities and talents as if you weren't there. "She does sew exceptionally well..." you were catching snippets of conversation, lost in the whirlwind of turns and introductions. "She is more of a figure to look at, young sir. Not one for conversation, i'm afraid." An incredulous laugh sprouted from the king.

How docile you are, calm and compliant. Your fathers words spoke promises of your obedience. Your teeth gritted at the situation you find yourself in. All too familiar to you, but not any less infuriating.

To be presented at auction, thrust into a room of what was most likely sleazy strangers and fear mongering men who wanted nothing more than a concubine of you. Inside, you were dully angered. But really, how could you expect anything more?

On the outside you remained the picture of ease. A calmness instilled in you that served as an anchor to yourself, refusing to allow this to crack your hard earned shell.

Coming to a halt before someone, you heard the high pitch of your father voice raise. "Mandalorian! How surprising to see you!" With wide arms the stout man leaned in for an embrace.

Unsure what stopped him from finishing the gesture though, he continued, "Ah well, you never have been the sentimental type, have you?"

A brief silence took over, dry and awkward before Virrok cleared his throat and shuffled his feet, "My little dove here is quite the catch. I should think she would perfect for you." His hand guiding you roughly closer by the elbow. "Something soft and sweet to take your troubles to at the days end, no?" The sickly sweet sound of a salesman buttering up a client for a sale sickened you.

The Mandalorian, as your father called him, let out an almost imperceptible sigh, "What of her rumored attachment?"

Your fathers voice went tight, but the smile never faltering. "The girl has remained untouched, I assure you, kind sir." He never did like to be questioned. Truthfully, the "engagement" was simply the highest bid on your head, from a man you loathed. The Prince was arrogant and unashamed in his lust for you. During your reauired meetings, he alluded frequently to the ways he would keep you submissive.

Shifting your eyes, you could only see the boots, black and sturdy, change his stance nearly imperceptibly. Not what you expected from this crowd of what you assumed is mainly business men and heirs to other thrones. Perhaps he is a knight of some kind? Do they exist anymore? Men with morals and integrity. You doubted it, having long since stopped believing in fairytales.

"Darling, do look up now, there is someone I shall like you to meet." Fingers dig into the skin under your chin and lifted your eyes to meet theirs.

At least, what would have been eyes. Instead you gazed into the black visor of a silver helmet and a shiver travelled down your spine. Ever so slightly his helmet angled to the right, "How much to ensure she is mine." The man spoke in a steely voice, seeming to command even your father into a stiled answer.

"Ah Mandalorian, the girl has yet to entertain other offers tonight — " Your head once again met your chest as you lowered it, unwilling to witness the negotiations of your life. "I'll double any offer in this room." The statuesque man seemed to growl the words more than speak them.

He was sure of himself and you were nervous whether that was to be a good sign or a bad one.

Then as a small paper was traded between the two, an empty grin plastered itself over your fathers face. "Very well," he gestured forward towards the door leading out. "Shall we begin?"

The three of you started forward and you breathed deeply as the heavy thud of the Mandalorians boots echoed down the stone halls like the drum to a death march.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Thinking about the fake dating AU again. 🤯

What if, during his segment on the Aftermath, Noah plays off his 'cheating' as something so emotionally detached it makes him look almost psychopathic, in an attempt to make himself as unlikable as possible?

The 'cheating' was simply strategic, is all. It wasn't his fault the two of them had to go and catch real feelings; Noah was just playing the game. Nothing more.

What? You thought he had feelings for them? Don't be ridiculous, Noah felt nothing for either of them- they were just there to carry him through the competition.

(He doesn't anticipate the ache that twists through his chest after that statement. It isn't true in the slightest, yet even just pretending to not care about his partners is physically painful.)

At first, both Geoff and Blaineley commend him for enacting some long overdue karma/vengeance on the antagonistic duo, but the more Noah intentionally digs himself into a hole- the more hateable he makes himself- the more people actually begin to pity both Heather and Alejandro. Which was the plan from the beginning, so Noah fully commits to it, playing off every interaction as just another cog in his manipulation machine; he's the 'High IQ', after all, of course he planned it all.

And he hides the nausea writhing in his gut from the blatant lies he's sprouting under a carefully blank, uncaring mask of indifference. Every claim he makes is said in the most casual tone- as if he's commenting on the weather instead of admitting to masterminding the heartbreak of two strong competitors- and that's somehow worse than if he would at least seem smug about his achievement. Because at least then he'd (appear to) care.

So, when the Aftermath finally ends, Noah becomes persona non grata. No one wants to even look at him- who knew the little snark could be so ruthless? So uncaring?

And Noah, knowing that he can't confide in Owen (who can't keep a secret to save his life) or Izzy (who's too unpredictable to trust- and who also 'leaked' fake information about him to Sierra during her time on Celebrity Manhunt, so who knows what else she's leak?) turns to his friend Eva, who promptly decks him in the face.

"I'm not friends with cheaters."

And when he tries to explain himself, clutching at his quickly bruising face and hoping that she'll see reason or at the very least afford him some decency, she throws his actions back in his face (actions have always spoken louder than words with Eva). Claiming that, if he's willing to lead on two people romantically, who's to say he isn't also faking their friendship? How can she trust anything that comes out of his slimy mouth?

It hurts. Every accusation is like a wave of searing heat against his already blistered heart, and yet Eva's eyes are so cold as she looks at Noah like he's the scum beneath her shoes.

So he flees to his hotel room.

And, for the first time in years, he weeps.

.

Given the informative finale of World Tour, the Aftermath crew were given the go-ahead to host one last hurrah, to properly question their finalists about their scheme, and to clear Noah's name.

Their audience was practically frothing at the mouth for an update.

During their interview segment, Blaineley (in an attempt to stir up some drama- she's always endeavouring to stay on brand after all) plays clips of Noah's callous 'confessions' on his Aftermath segment post-elimination, hoping to cause some trouble in paradise for the lovely throuple by sewing the seeds of doubt in their minds.

To her surprise, both Heather and Alejandro start laughing at the clips as if they're the funniest thing they've ever seen, huddling closer to Noah as they poke and tease him. Noah, in turn, sinks in unto himself, red-faced and mortified.

"What? How can you be alright with him saying that?" Cries Blaineley, scandalised that her attempt at brewing tension somehow didn't work.

"Because he does not mean it." Alejandro explains. To his side, Heather nods in agreement.

"How can you be so sure?"

Heather points to the screen, where past Noah is lying his ass off for the world to see, stoic save for the barely noticable twitching of his fingers and the occasional jump of his leg.

"He's lying through his teeth! It's so obvious- you weren't even trying to hide your tells, and after all the practice we did!"

"I didn't need to. Neither of you were there to call me out on the bluff."