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lottie150209 · 2 months

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Phillip Graves’s little soldier gets on her knees, MDNI!!! smut xoxo

A/N: Ngl Graves kinda gives me the ick at times.. however he’s good looking and i’d definitely get on my knees to suck him off! Enjoy!! Ps: (if you’re up for it) drop a comment or suggestion or smth!! I love love LOVE feedback 🫶!!

tags: phillip graves, graves cod, graves call of duty, philip graves, philip graves x reader, graves x reader, philip graves smut, for smut, call of duty x reader, call of duty smut, call of duty graves

cw: smut, degradation? kinda?, roughness, blowjob and cock drunk reader, precum, cumming in readers mouth, mentions of spanking and fingering, graves being a little self absorbed (but we love him ofc)🤷‍♀️

As someone who has co operated and worked for various different military branches and companies previously, you’d had your fair share of challenges.

Being shot on foot with no where to turn? You’d been there. Had a missile heading straight towards the air craft you’re inside? That was, what, a week ago? So could someone please explain to you why it’s so hard for you to stay focused.

The Ceo and founder of the Shadow Company had raised a meeting to discuss possible locations and places where Hassan Zyani could potentially be hiding, the meeting was going smoothly and everyone was listening intently- well almost everyone at least.

Phillip Graves was a narcissist, arrogant dickhead who cared little about anything other than his own wellbeing and gain. The smug asshole looked down on anyone other than General Shepherd and despite all the bragging about how huge of an impact his involvement has on the team and his apparent massive cock, you were certain the only big thing about him was his ego. However, that didn’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his crotch now and again.

His monotone voice drug on and on and ached in your fragile ears as your head began to wonder off about other thoughts: wondering what his girlfriend back home must see in him. Is she used to people like him? Maybe he doesn’t even have a girlfriend or perhaps he acts different with her.

You flickered your eyes back up to his as he locked eyes with people around the room progressing into more mission details, important details you didn’t want to miss. He was quite handsome when you ignored his irritating personality, his short light brown hair and piercing eyes, you felt your stomach roll in delight.

You clamped your sweaty thighs under the desk as you straightened your back, flustered. His muscular figure and the slight stubble on his lower face sending lightning bolts to your clit, you almost moaned. Shutting your eyes for a moment picturing what he could do to you, him bending you over and spanking ur ass like you yearned he would, him figuring your pussy faster and faster until you cum on his fingers.

The same fingers that were occasionally trailing up to his lips, tapping against his spit before retreating back to the paper and flipping the page. You felt your soaked underwear in your seat and you exhaled hard and shakily knowing you were turned on.

Your eyes widened quickly and they flicked across the room, heart pumping faster when you locked eyes with the same man you were fantasising about. A certain look in his dark eyes that were staring back in yours and holding eye contact. To others it just looked like Graves pausing while he found the right words but between you two there was a certain tension in the air.

His head tilted to the side a little almost as if he was shaking his head to disagree but he quickly spat out his words and continued on with the meeting, looking away and clearing his throat. You exhaled and spent to rest of the meeting looking at the wall highly embarrassed.

Before you knew it the meeting was over and everyone made their way out of the door, you following until you heard his voice call back your name. Heat coercing throughout your body as you spun back around and walked over to him, his back was facing you as he leaned against the meeting table. You swallowed thickly.

“Yes sir?” But all he did was raise his index finger twice signifying for you to come closer and face him, you compelled as your black shoes gently tapped against the floor, quiet thuds sounding deafening.

He looked up at you when you were finally infront of him, his movements so smooth, slow and purposeful it gave you goosebumps. His eyebrows furrowed and his tongue slid against his lips looking confused, trying to find the correct words.

“So, i’ve noticed you don’t have a ring on that hand of yours.. you’re single?” Your heart slipped and glided into your stomach and you fluttered on your words. Why did he need to know this? You nodded your head hesitantly and a wicked smile casted on his stubbled face.

“That’s great! Fantastic! Perfect even.” You locked eyes with him, a puzzled look on your face as you scanned his reaction. His power and intimidation over you fading partially as you found the confidence to question him.

“Why did you need to know that sir?” But all Graves did was take a long deep breath and look to the side his eyes trailing the wall, biting his lip gently and subconsciously nodding.

“You see, the next mission we, as a team, are planning for is extremely important and needs to be done right. Which makes this past meeting a valuable asset towards it, a lot of information was covered and if you want to know why I asked you to stay back it’s because.. I don’t think you heard a god damn thing. You wanna know why I think that?” You stayed silent.

Despite the question he’d asked you, your lips didn’t move an inch, maybe he thought you were lazy and just couldn’t be bothered? Maybe he thought there was something depriving your attention, other than him of course. Either way you were sure this was it, being told to head back and find a new branch to work for, he was kicking you out for sure right?

“It’s because you were staring at me with them all so familiar “fuck me” eyes, picturing my out-of-worldly, sexy body.” He chocked out a seductive laugh which was more like an exhale and he leaned forward still grinning like a mad man, like a starving wolf.

“I mean, i’m flattered, I really am. It’s just this meeting was so important.. I cant just let it go unfortunately.” His lidded eyes met yours again as he bit his lip, placing his two hand either side of himself against the table before pushing his weight off. His height growing and towering above you and he took in another deep and slow inhale.

“So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get down on your knees, and suck me until i’m satisfied, little soldier.” The world around you froze and your skin and blood melted, your soft cunt burning like melted sugar: sticky and clear.

Your lips parted out of astonishment and you felt Graves stare on your face. His own face hovering closer to yours until his nose pressed against your warm soft cheek. It tickled.

“I said get on your fucking knees,” His hand came from the table behind him and grabbed your head, pushing hard and forcing you to the floor. You winced at the sudden roughness, shocked but scarily turned on. You rose to your knees looking up at him and he smiled down at you before fumbling with his belt.

“And take this dick into that tight little mouth of yours.” He unzipped his flier and pulled down his baggy cargos, leaving on his light gray underwear, the ridge of his hardness visable and his size on show to you. There was a wet spot from where his precum had leaked in his underwear and you almost growled, wanting to place your lips against it and suck his juices out of the moist fabric.

Graves noticed this and a tut fell from his lips. He grabbed the back of your head again before pushing your face and nose against his dick harshly, forcing you to submit to his scent. Shit, that was hot.

He felt himself start to grind against whatever part of your face was pushed against him, your tongue prodded at his clothed balls, massaging them and dampening the cotton material with your saliva. Graves groaned leaking more semen before letting his hold on you go and tugging down his clothing.

His cock sprung out of his underwear, thicker at the top and surprisingly veiny, saliva pooled in your mouth from just the sight of it and you couldn’t resist subconsciously leaning forward, needing to taste him and wrap your mouth around his girth.

He chuckled harshly at how eager his little colleague was, how desperate you were to suck him and taste his meat. Your tongue catching all the precum oozing uncontrollably out of him like a broken pipe.

He was salty and quite bitter but in a good way. Like dark chocolate, strong but appetising and it made your stomach ache in need. You swallowed and swallowed greedily, taking as much of him as you could in your mouth as he huffed and grunted above you.

“Fucking jesus, you’re good. You should disobey more in meetings, little soldier because this is cloud fucking 9!” His voice trembled slightly but all you could do is slobber and moan on his shaft. His skin so tasty and warm, you could feel him throb and twitch. You were leathered on his dick, cockdrunk and crazy for it.

After a few more minutes Graves threw his head back with a groan, his eyes shut and his breathing quickened. His noises were so fucking lewd and effortless, he was free and feeling euphoric; you noticed that. More and more precum dripped on your tongue and you teased his tip, his hips bucking slightly as he trembled pathetically at the pleasure.

“Oh my ‘Gah fuck.. Keep doing that and i’m going to cum.” Your lips gripped the shaft of his cock harder and your cheeks shallowed sucking him in more as you teased his tip fast, bobbing your head. You needed his cum, you needed it now. His taste, his seed, his everything, fuck you needed him everywhere and now your body was trembling. A moan trailed from your mouth as you whimpered on his cock, and he exploded.

His deep, gruffly, American voice cracking as his cum full your mouth making you pull away and choke. The rest spurted and splattered all over your uniform and chin as you swallowed and caught your breath. His salty fluids made your body shudder and your pussy clench around nothing, fucking hell. Graves took a deep breath lazily lifting his head back up to admire how you look.

Cum now dripped and stained down you, cheeks puffed out and eyes so shiny and lustful it looked as if you were about to cry. His dick twitched again at the sight and he let out a small laugh, slipping it back into his ruined underwear and zipping up his cargos.

Without waiting he made his way to the door before stopping himself and turning around to face you. You were now sat on your side, your knees a little red with indents of the floor on them. He ran a hand through the hair stuck to the light layer of sweat on his forehead and he smirked.

“See you out there, little soldier.” And he left the room with a wink.

#phillip graves #graves cod #graves call of duty #philip graves #philip graves x reader #graves x reader #philip graves smut #cod smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty graves

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rreskk · 5 months

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MIDWEST DESIRES

Summary: A desire. All it took was the desire to spiral out of control. You didn’t want to ignore the past argument but he had persuaded you with pure confidence. That man was the death of you and he left you breathless.

TW: Smut.

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

Word count: 2496

Daring to touch, he stood motionless in front of you, shoulders just about fitting the doorway of your humble home. Them puffy sleeves from the winter coat he was wearing thickened the width of his shoulders, hence the slight mishap of size. Yet the winter coat warmed him up greatly, his cheeks turning a bushed red and his nose sniffling with the after effects of seizing the cold North Yankton snow outside. The blizzard was only an open doors away, and you could already feel the radiation from his shivering frame. The front door – that was open in retaliation of his presence – interrogated the warmth of your home.

“Trevor.” You addressed as the last time you had said his name, it wasn’t in a wanting manner. Not at all. You felt the urge to close the door since you were developing the shivers as well, and you were dressed in clothes for bedtime. It was selfish of him to keep the door open with his wide figure and snarky face that didn’t exactly express the delightfulness of you answering his knocks in the first place. Bitter, you thought, but you couldn’t shut him out. He had no other home. Nothing.

“Mph…” He’d huff and refuse to acknowledge the changing temperatures of your house. His mullet was hidden, shying away in this ushanka that covered his ears as well, only leaving the crest of his face and shifty, all-knowing eyes, the moustache sitting over his top lip that you couldn’t see it shiver at the cold. His breath even struggled to straighten it’s posture when speaking after the shortened grunt. “Don’t say my name like that.”

The irony of not wanting to be named was almost alien to his personality as everything resulting to this argument would be the product of his attention-seeking tongue. So your interest was instantly aroused. There was lack of corresponsive evidence to believe it.

“Why?” You questioned, moving aside and gently tugging the door closed. The freezing bite of the weather evaporated within that second.

Trevor hung his head low and ignored your question. He took the signal of the door closing and misunderstood it for a “I’m making myself at home” note, claiming the sofa as his own, his scrawny, long limbs hogging the two seats. There wasn’t even a space for you. But it wasn’t like you wanted to sit next to him. The grudge remained; the distance thickening as he’d spitefully avoid the need to communicate.

It placed you in a position of risking another fight, or letting him toy you around with his unpredictable mannerism. Neither you wanted to happen. The last thing you wanted was his dirty, scandal-grasping fingers touching any surface of your house while he’s sitting in the spotlight of the local FEDs. Knowing someone has probably died in his arms through the last 24 hours would always stain your mind, yet it didn’t repel you from him.

He threw off his ushanka and ruffled up the messy locks that were thinning and lessening. Even his hair looked unbothered about the situation your relationship was it. This is when you decided to stand up for yourself and walked over to the sofa, standing before him, his eyes inspecting you with judgement and annoyance.

“What?” Trevor grumbled lowly, his voice rumbling deep from his chest.

Pretending it didn’t give you butterflies, you tried to remain monotonal. “This wasn’t an invite for you to stay.” However, it came off like you were struggling to maintain a stern tone. It wobbled a bit.

“You closed the door.” He scoffed when rolling his neck and staring at your chest area with confliction and pervasion.

“To keep the heat in.”

“Sure.” Sarcasm dripping from his abrasive mouth.

“Why’d you come?” For once, you wanted a truer word from him, not just some smart-ass remark that’s not really smart. It would just be irritating and dimly witted.

His eyes searched your face and his shoulders shrugged in response. His coat would even rustle from his forced movement, the silence disturbed and your will-power to embrace disapproval collapsed. It made you tick, itch, clench your jaw, the slightest sounds from his stupid, green coa –

“The fuck you glaring at?” Trevor murmured, “I wasn’t the one starting the argument. On my behalf, I was the peacemaker.”

This made you laugh, stomach clenching and your posture bending as you’d hold your knees for stability. The seriousness of his defence made it worse. He has to be joking, you thought. There was no way he was playing the peacemaker when he spiralled the debate into an argument and refused to solve it as he’d disappear for 3 days straight, leaving you with the suspense of believing your relationship had ended.

“Yeah, because that’s the truth.” You mocked, not laughing anymore.

“Are you calling me a liar?” He eruptively stood up from the sofa – livid. You were stunned when he stood less than an arms-length away, finding your little mockery offensive and disrespectful. “Don’t be a fucking prude, eh? Don’t you wanna make-up? Don’t you wanna have dear ol’ Trevy back? Or have you never loved me.”

“Oh, I’ve loved you. Still do. And it gives me a migraine.” You whispered.

“A migraine I can cure, baby. You know how it is…” His softness was inviting but you knew this was just a manipulation tactic to avoid the blame. He took notice of your sudden shyness the moment he stood up, and he abused it. That dickhead.

“I don’t think you can cure it this time.”

“How so?” Trevor tickled and placed a bare hand, so cold and cruel, around your waist. You could feel it through the fabrics of your shirt. Like you’d imagine, he grazed the surface of your neck with his shivering lips that were dry as desert. It felt like prickles whenever he spoke against you. “Don’t stay mad forever, sugar.”

Future corpse: death by Trevor and his charismatic density. Even if you tried to fight back, your body language denied access. You fell into him, his arms – without hesitation – suffocating you and his lips immediately trailed up your sweet neck with his sweet kisses.

His hungry mouth fell over your throat and jawline, mercilessly slandering the acres of your skin like there was no sign of life in you. You had to clench the back of his jacket for stability as he was diving in – big time. If you lessened your grip, you’d both fall backwards and into the coffee table. Praise be, you weren’t going to let anything disrupt this process of “making-up”, or whatever he referred it. Make-up, make-out; his moto, most likely? Who knows. He doesn’t do communication despite blaming the lack of understanding on you.

But ignoring the present problems as you were too busy growing eager for the heat.

Trevor reached your lips and was stealing words, thoughts, your breath. His kisses were intense to the point of panting, your lungs struggling to sway around the oxygen he’s threatening to take. You both were heavily breathing, the blood rushing over to your head, the room becoming increasingly hot. God knows how he’s coping in that coat. While he selfishly abused your lips with his own, your hands grasped the zip and tugged it down. Trevor grunted lowly when it was thrown off his shoulders and onto the floor. The chills crawled down his spine when the air touched his naked arms. You felt him shiver, the closeness between you both becoming inseparable.

“I can’t fucking wait anymore,” He whined and clenched your wrist, “Lemme see you, ay? Take it off…” You made eye-contact and he pressed his forehead against yours, grinning. “Take it all off.”

The thought of facing the chilly temperatures with only his body temperature aroused you beyond belief. And it wasn’t like you had a choice. Before you could answer, Trevor had plunged the back of your shirt, disregarding it by tossing it over your head, the forceable nature causing the material to rip a bit as you’d hear a small stretch. The cold punched you in the stomach and your arms crawled with the need of comfort. As you rubbed yourself for warmth, he threw off his own shirt and wasted no time, pulling you back into the proximity, his touchy fingers groping the cups of your bra, smirking and giggling at the feeling of your clothed breasts.

Trevor toyed you around for a few minutes. The bra stayed on but he pulled one of the cups down as your breast would hang out and into his sight. He made it bounce, squishing it, caressing it, worshipping it. You had to stand there with a throbbing throat, becoming ugly for him. Nonetheless, you were left red and puffy. He had poked for too long that you breast had marks of his hands outlining around the nipples. Such pride, he groaned kiddingly, biting down his bottom lip.

And your neck. Fuck. His moustache left rashes all over your jaw and neck. Even your mouth. Just like your chest area, you were becoming red all over. The kind touch of Mr Philips was as guilty as any murderer.

“Mhm.” You winced at the itchiness of the perceived rashes. It was silenced when Trevor returned his attention onto you and them hands harshly gripped your backside, edging you closer to the wall behind where he turned you around in a ridiculous speed. Swearing you were experiencing whiplash, it wasn’t know. Not like you could say anyway. He pushed you against the wall with your breasts being pressed and your hips being pushed against him. You felt a trembling hardness fight against your ass, making you murmur his name as pleas.

“I need you,” He said, “I’m gonna have you – “ He ruffled his belt and hissed with frustration when his jeans struggling to lower. You were forced against the wall anyways, not being able to help but hearing him groan so sensually.

“Just fuck me!” You protested to rile him up. There wasn’t anything like an angry Trevor treating you like a little to no person. It was hot, sexy, a desire.

Something zipped and then your arms were pinned against your back, your face planting the wall. The roughness you wanted; you got.

“I’ll fuck you so good.” Smirked Trevor, ripping off your trousers that dangled around your ankles. He gently felt around your naked backside before pushing you against his erection that sat to bully your pussy. It wasn’t in, but it was there, warming you both up. The fact it was there was winding you up. So bad, you wanted it, so bad.

“C’mon.” You pled and grinded against him.

A sigh of pleasure escaped his throat when you took control. He held onto your waist and watched the way your ass moved against him. The wonders came wondering and you gasped in surprise when he removed himself before digging into your pussy, fucking the Hell out of you.

Trevor rocked you back and forth as he thrusting in and out. You both groaned and made sexual noises at the matched efforts to feel each other’s skin and friction.

“Atta girl…” He panted, “Jesus, argh!”

You took him in, wetness seeping and drooling. Trevor used a hand and grabbed the back of your neck, making sure he was keeping you in your place with your face, all scrunched up with pleasure, against the wall. A little power-play made it better. While you were sizing him up from your aggressive rocking hips, he maintained that place and kept you working while he groaned.

“Fuck, fuck!”

“I love your voice, sugar.” He murmured, the sound of slapping making it harder to hear him.

Now the room was the opposite of cold. It was fucking boiling. You kept your arms invisibly tied to your back during this but it itched to wipe the sweat from your brow. The overstimulating yell storming around your lower stomach. It was approaching, all that bottled up annoyance dissolving into a waiting release.

“I fucking missed you. Couldn’t stay away, angel. Just wanted to feel you.” Trevor whined when fastening the pace. He was due to get emotional when having sex with you. Always has, since the first-time. It was sweetening. It comforted you despite being hammered sloppily. It made you want to forgive him for every ungodly thing he has ever done while living.

“More…” You needed more reassurance, “Please. I want more. More. Trevor. More…”

“I fucking want more! Shit. Just gonna fuck you… Forever, damn, baby… I’m gonna fucking cum.” His words were broken in several pauses breathlessly. His hands deepened, now bruising your body. The way he was stammering forwards. There was no more thrusting. He was deep inside, letting himself beat against you.

You moaned against the wall and flattened out your chest, losing control. Unable to produce words, you could only weakly grunt and cry softly. Your pussy throbbed with him inside and he was visibly twitching. The sensation was going to kill you.

“I’m gonna…” He repeated dramatically, “Shit. Shit. Shit!” Then in a haze, like the blizzard happening outside your front door, he came inside you, his hips jerking and legs threatening to fall. Trevor leaned back and sobbed a painful moan as he attempted to move with the orgasm, leaving marks of himself and making you struggle with him.

After he had came, it was no longer an ability to deny your body. Stimulatingly, your core shrieked and it trickled down your thighs, drooling down his cock as well that laid inside you. There were no moans to moan since you were all out. You panted and gagged with your cheek hot from the wall. The orgasm spiralled out of control and you fell back into him, his arms grabbing your waist and his chest hitting your back.

“There she is…” Encouraged his raspy voice.

You whimpered, “Shit… Oh, yeah.”

“How’s that for an apology? Made you feel good, eh? I love my girl, would stay like this forever.”

“I… Accept – “ You took deep breaths, “ – Your apology. Jesus…”

Trevor pecked the back of your ear before swaying you to the sofa where you sunk into the cushions. He massaged your inner thighs as you were based in his lap, nakedly hogging each other’s personal space with the smell of nasty sex filling your living room space.

“More of this,” He pointed to your smile before smirking, “And less of your grumpiness, yeah?”

“Standard practice for you to say.”

“And less of the fucking cheek. I’m just a guy wanting his girl to love him.”

“Poor Trevor.” You teased.

“Love me…” He whined and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“I do love you.”

“What was that?”

“I think you stink.”

“Of your sweet cunt, baby.”

“And dirt.”

Trevor glared but remained quiet, trapping you in his embrace as you both finally recovered from that argument. In a bang, as per usual.

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevorphilips #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #my fanfic writing #my fanfic #my fanfiction #grand theft v #grandtheftauto

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sergeantsporks · 1 month

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March 26th was the day Lilith cemented herself as a legend within the TOH fan community. And also the day Philip presumably swore vengeance against her.

XD Which means that he eventually had to realize at some point that the curly-haired Clawthorne sister who joined his Coven was the lady who broke his nose centuries ago. And in order to preserve the timeline, that meant that he could do nothing but watch as she climbed the ranks, eventually becoming Head of his Coven. He even had to let her keep her Palismen!

I do want to know at what point he DID realize. Like, Phillip saw her with the hat covering her hair and glasses on, so did he see her with her hair tucked into her scout uniform before she stopped wearing her glasses and go "OH NO" or like. By the time she gained any of his attention at all, she was already dying/straightening her hair and going without the glasses?

#asks #toh #lilith clawthorne

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messenger-of-stupidity · 1 year

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Thanksgiving

Happy late Thanksgiving to those who celebrated. If you didn’t, I hope you have a good weekend and enjoy the sales that are going around.

Also the Sweetheart thing was something my mom genuinely said to me yesterday. Yes I was concerned. But we watched it anyways.

Also if you want to learn about the darker side of Thanksgiving and don’t know it, read about the King Philip’s War. It’s kinda twisted that it wasn’t ever talked about in my history classes in elementary - high school.

CW: Fluff, Crack, Slight Angst but not really, David just wants to cook, Angel wants to help but not really help and complain later, Asher isn’t allowed in the kitchen, Baabe is a mastermind, Sam is Southern, Darlin doesn’t understand the purpose of Thanksgiving, Milo is just a lil boyo your honor, Sweetheart enjoys menacing comments, GN Listeners, not beta read or anything so pls ignore any and all typos ty and have a nice day

Redacted Masterlist

David shut off his alarm and rubbed his eyes, straightening out his spine to stretch it from the previous night’s rest. Angel still slept beside him, tangled up in the blanket with soft snores coming from their open mouth. He watched them for a bit with a fond smile for his mess of a mate. But he had a long list of things to go through before noon today, so he got up and looked around for a shirt to put on. He would probably wake Angel up in half an hour or so if they didn’t wake up on their own. But they didn’t need to be awake this early on their day off from work. He pulled on a random t-shirt before grabbing his phone and leaving the room after a kiss to Angel’s forehead. He went through his morning routine before going into the kitchen, water droplets still clinging to his hair.

He opened the fridge to stare at the large dead bird he had brining in there. Brining heightened the chances of growing bacteria, but Angel had insisted that it wouldn’t poison them because they had a superior digestive system, whatever the hell that meant. He grabbed the container to bring it out and place it into the sink. It was time to get to work, but he felt that rare urge of procrastination. So he grabbed his phone to see what his pack members were up to.

Sweetheart: Milo is overreacting.

Milo: I am NOT overreacting sweetheart. u just have to accept what you said is very concerning

Tank: whats going on

Sweetheart: I AM SO GLAD YOU ASKED

Tank: sam help i regret asking

Baabe: Oooh this should be good right puppy?

Asher: beef between my bf and his mate? duh

Sweetheart: Milo wont let me watch my favorite thanksgiving movie trilogy

Sam: I’m sure there’s more to it than that, if you don’t mind me saying. Also happy thanksgiving everyone.

Baabe: Awww! ty sam

Asher: yeah u 2 bud. are u doing anything fun for thamkgibbing

Milo: Sweetheart is cooking the turkey right now so they wont be able to explain how they need therapy

Tank: i need therapy after seeing the beta call thanksgiving that

Sam: I have a plan, but I need to check to see if someone is okay with it.

Tank: good luck with that

Sam: Darlin I was talking about you.

Tank: oh

Sweetheart: MILO WONT LET ME WATCH THE HUNGER GAMES SERIES

Asher: oh word?

Milo: Because thanksgiving movies are supposed to be comforting. You wanna share what you said to that with everyone sweetheart?

Sweetheart: The hunger games is comforting to me!!

Asher: ...

Baabe: ...

Sam: Oh dear...

Tank: Huh.

David turned off his phone with a snort before washing his hands and setting to work. It didn’t honestly surprise him that Sweetheart found the Hunger Games comforting. From what he had heard from Milo, the Stealth found all matter of typically disturbing media entertaining. And Tank was as oblivious as always. David expected that Sam would want to invite Tank to the Thanksgiving meal.

He heard the speaker in the kitchen sound to life and he glanced at it. He had bluetooth off on his phone, so either their neighbor connected or Angel was awake. It took a few moments before Doja Cat began blasting through the kitchen and David sighed. He loved his mate, but sometimes he wasn’t sure about their mental stability.

But he still let it play, trying to figure out which song it was. He didn’t really have a clue until a very iconic chorus showed up. And despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the smile that spread over his lips.

“Can you kiss me more? We’re so young, boy. We ain’t got nothin’ to lose, oh-oh~” Angel popped into the room singing along with it before going over to David to put their arms around his neck, lips puckering. David simply smiled down at them, waiting patiently. It took a few moments before Angel’s expression soured into a pout.

“Come on, Davey. I used my words already. Gimme.” They were adorable, if a bit odd. But wasn’t that one of the reasons why he loved them?

“Playing a song doesn’t actually count as asking for a kiss, you little snot.” He replied, but relented anyways. Angel giggled into the kiss, which made it kind of awkward but he didn’t mind. It just meant they were happy, and his mate being happy sent a burst of warmth through him. “Now get off of me. We have to cook for the damn holiday.”

Sweetheart popped the spoon into their mouth, ignoring Aggro as he twined between their legs in hopes of making them drop something. Milo was standing on the other side of the apartment kitchen, his head shoved into the pantry as he searched for something. Sweetheart wasn’t entirely sure what, but they were content to let him continue. Especially since he had dissed their tastes in comforting movies. If they found watching the fall of a fascist government that killed at least 23 of their citizens every year, let them. And if it gave them hope that maybe DUMP wouldn’t overwork them one day, then so be it. Not that they would ever mention it to Milo.

“Sweetheart, are you sure you bought the marshmallows?” Milo asked, popping back up to look at his mate, who still held a spoon between their lips. They raised an eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration. They weren’t much of a talker, which was fine since Milo seemed to enjoy rambling to them. Unless it had to do with horror or their job. Then Sweetheart would talk endlessly. Or Milo tiddies. That was another one of their favorite topics. “For the sweet potato pie. It needs marshmallows or everything is all fucked up.” He explained.

Sweetheart gave the spoon one last lick before setting it down and stepping over Aggro to go search the pantry. Their taste buds lay with more savory foods, but they kept marshmallows for the colder days and hot chocolate. Or smores. Milo picked up the cat, Aggro rubbing his cheek along the line of the shifter’s jaw as Sweetheart searched.

“Tip toe, through the window. By the window, that’s where I’ll be. Come tip toe through the tulips with me.” They sang under their breath, their smile hidden from their mate. They could hear Milo’s nervous squawk and the soft meow of protest from Aggro.

“Sweetheart! You gotta stop singing cursed songs like that. Don’t ya know what happened to Tiny Tim after he sang that?” He said nervously. Sweetheart grabbed the bag of marshmallows from the lower shelf and stood up, turning to face him with a grin.

“Yeah. He died, painlessly I might add. If you ignore the whole illness thing and falling off a table.” They answered with a shrug before tossing the bag of marshmallows towards Milo. He put down Aggro quickly and just barely managed to catch them, if fumbling the catch a bit. Sweetheart giggled and went back towards the stove to continue stirring the gravy that sat inside, albeit with a new spoon this time.

Milo moved towards the counter next to them to start decorating the sweet potato pie, a content smile replacing the nervous horrified expression of earlier. Sweetheart didn’t know which one they liked better. It probably depended on the situation if they had to hazard a guess.

“Are you sure that David knows what you and Ash plotted?” They asked calmly. Milo shrugged and Sweetheart took that as a ‘no’. This would certainly be interesting then.

Darlin didn’t understand Thanksgiving. They knew why it was celebrated, according to the history books from school. Of course it wasn’t very often that the history books talked about the territory grab from the Wampanoag tribe, the illness that the colonists spread to them. And don’t forget about the King Philip’s War that killed 30% of colonists and half of the Native Americans in the dubbed New England. How did that end again? Darlin couldn’t remember the exact details, but they knew that the new leader was dismembered and the colonists had his head impale on a spike for display of the next 25 years. Yeah, their parents had been really happy when they decided to share that tidbit of information at a pack meal the day after Thanksgiving.

But here they were, headed towards their mate’s house to celebrate the holiday with him. Sam had told them not to worry about bringing anything because he was from the South and had probably made more food than he knew what to do with. Darlin suspected this was another way to make sure they ate enough everyday. But they weren’t going to turn down the offer.

Darlin knocked on the door before remembering that Sam had given them a key. They knew Sam had specially tinted windows so he could have the curtains open during the day and not have to deal with the sunlight, but they still made sure to keep the door open for as short of time as possible. They kicked off their boots, hands going into their pockets before going towards the kitchen. The smells surrounding them was almost enough to have them drooling though.

Sam stood in the kitchen, an apron tied around him and sleeves of his flannel rolled up as he put something inside of the oven and closed it. Darlin moved towards the island, taking a deep breath of the still steaming buttered rolls that sat there.

“Hey Darlin. I’m really glad you came.” Sam said softly as he walked over, rubbing his palms on the apron. Darlin reached towards the rolls, only to have the back of their palm lightly smack by Sam. They retreated their hand with an impish grin.

“You promised me food, cowboy. How could I turn that down?” Their response earned a chuckle from the Southern vampire as he pressed a quick kiss to Darlin’s cheek before returning to whatever he was making on the counter by the fridge. Darlin walked over, sniffing experimentally. It smelled strongly of cheese and pasta, so that gave them all the information they needed.

“That I did. But it doesn’t mean I’m about to let you spoil your appetite. We’re just waiting for the turkey to finish up, and that annoying green bean casserole. Honestly, I’m not that big of a fan of it, but my mother engraved the tradition of making it every year into me. So hopefully you’ll eat it.” Darlin moved towards the fridge as Sam spoke, pulling open the door. Three different types of pies. Why weren’t they surprised?

“You know I’m not that picky when it comes to food, Sam.” They responded as they closed the fridge to find an open counter space to sit on. Some kind of muffled music was playing from another room. No lyrics. It sounded kind of like lofi but... Southern-ized. Darlin didn’t know how else to describe it. Sam snorted as he nodded.

“Oh, I’m aware Darlin. The fact your fridge has more condiments than food points to you being more picky with what you put on your food than what food is there to begin with.” The shifter rolled their eyes as Sam laughed. They were pretty sure Sam was never going to let that go. They changed topics instead.

“Why are you making so much food if you don’t really eat food a lot to begin with?” They asked softly, unsure if it was the wrong thing to say. Sam shrugged, putting Darlin’s worries at ease. They didn’t know how he could do that, just a simple movement to calm them down so easily.

“Well if there’s leftovers, then you might as well take them home with you. I’ll have no use for them, and it’s better to use food up instead of let it rot.” He answered. Darlin wasn’t surprised. It had been a ploy to give them food. They should have known. “I should have asked earlier, but is your pack doing anything for Thanksgiving?” He asked. Darlin stifled a yawn, they had stayed up too late, and shook their head.

“Not really. Marie and David don’t see eye to eye on some of the cooking details and some of the others are visiting family in Ferris. I’m pretty sure Asher and his mate are going to crash David’s meal time. Maybe Milo and Stealth too. I’m not sure, I didn’t really ask.” Darlin left out that the last time the pack had gotten a pack-wide Thanksgiving was when Gabe was still alive. It wasn’t something they liked to talk about.

“Marie?” Sam asked curiously. Darlin clicked their tongue.

“Milo’s mom. You met her a couple times. She’s got that east coast accent too, gives off soccer mom vibes.” Darlin explained and Sam nodded, recognition sparking in his expression. He took off the apron a few moments later before moving toward his knife block and pulling one out.

“Do me the honors of carving up the turkey? It’ll be done in a few minutes.” Sam asked. Darlin nodded and got off the counter to take the knife. They paused a moment before looking at Sam quietly. He stayed quiet too, letting Darlin gather up their thoughts.

“Thanks for inviting me, Sam. It... means a lot.” They finally said. Sam smiled and kissed their forehead.

“Of course. The near whole damn point of today is spending time with family, blood related or chosen, and being thankful you’re able to.”

“Baabe! Come on! I said I was sorry!” Asher complained from where he sat on the floor. He was carefully on the other side of the plastic knives that lay out the end of the living room and beginning of the kitchen. Baabe stared at him from the other side, arms crossed over their chest.

“Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you ate the fucking turkey, Ash!’ They replied. They had gotten the last turkey in the whole damn store and left it running under water to thaw before going out to run a few more errands. And in that time, Asher had decided to conduct the experiment to see if raw turkey eaten in his wolf form would taste better that roasted turkey eaten in his human form. So now it was the day of Thanksgiving and they were without a turkey. Sure, they could make ham or something, but they didn’t have that either. The two of them had gone through a busy week so neither had time to actually prepare for it.

“Okay okay, I get it. But what do we do now?” Asher whined, twirling a stand of his hair around his finger as he pouted. He had been banished from the kitchen after his stunt. And for good reason. Baabe paced along the length of the kitchen floor, thinking. They certainly couldn’t have Thanksgiving here. And they weren’t going to their parents house. Holidays with parents was a stress they weren’t going to take on right now.

“Is David doing a pack Thanksgiving or anything?” They asked, turning to face their mate. A shadow quickly passed over Asher’s eyes for a moment before he shook his head.

“Nah. It’s just him and his mate. Why?” Asher asked. Baabe sighed, tossing that plan out the window.

“If he was, we coulda just gone. But since he’s not, it’s not like we can just crash.” Baabe explained. Both of them stayed where they were, thinking. Slowly, a smirk spread across Asher’s face and he stood up, still not crossing over the plastic knife barrier.

“Unless we get an invitation.” He said slowly. Baabe looked at him, confused, and he continued. “We could ask his mate if we could come over and get an invitation from them. And because his mate invited us, Davey can’t turn us away.” Baabe paused before grinning and moving towards the knife barrier, kicking a few out of the way. Asher made a happy sound as he wrapped his arms around his mate’s waist to press a kiss to each cheek.

“Okay, but if we show up alone, David’s going to know something’s up. What if we invite Tank and Sam, and Milo and Stealth?” They asked. Asher shook his head.

“Tank’s having Thanksgiving with Sam. Plus it’ll be hard for Sam to get out of his house. But I can text Milo and ask him.”

✧༺𓃥༻∞

Asher rang the doorbell, a tub of whipped cream in hand. Baabe stood beside him as Milo and his mate stood behind them. The door opened to reveal David’s annoyed face.

“You all are scheming bastards.” He said before pulling the door wider open and stepping inside. Milo carried a sweet potato pie, decorated with marshmallows while his mate carried a container of gravy. They entered and Baabe stifled a laugh at all the fake turkey feathers that were thrown everywhere. Angel skipped over, a grin placed on their face.

“Happy Thanksgiving!”

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dreammorein06 · 2 years

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#Best Hair Straighteners #best hair straighteners in india #best hair straighteners 2022 #hair straighteners under 2000 in india #philips hair straightener #hair straightener for women #hair straightener machine #best hair straightener in india #.

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kaiijo · 2 years

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hello, may I please request a short scenario for silver (twst) and gn! reader with them dancing, like aurora and prince Phillip did in the woods?

bonus points if reader takes prince Philip's place and silver takes aurora's. he'd look majestic in either position bit I yearn.

I yearn to guide him through the dance...

many thanks!

dancing in the woods with silver

pairing: silver x reader notes: gn! reader, i really love this request <3

Silver heaved out a heavy sigh, leaning against one of the trees that lined the clearing he was in. With Malleus’s coronation approaching, he had been training with Sebek to learn the traditional waltz of Briar Valley. When he had performed the moves, Lilia had cocked his head and said, “You’ve got all the right steps but it’s very… stiff. You’re not marching into battle.”

Bowing his head, Silver had replied, “Then I’ll practice until I can move as gracefully as Malleus, Father.” While Lilia concentrated on getting Sebek to actually even do the steps without getting distracted by Malleus, Silver had taken the time to slip out for some private dancing. The woods comforted him, though he underestimated just how hard it would be to dance without a partner.

He shook his head at himself. He wouldn’t embarrass Malleus on his big day with his subpar dancing but the only partners readily on hand were the ones in the castle… He pushed off the tree and resumed the proper stance. Maybe one more time would do the trick?

One, two, three… one, two, three…

From somewhere among the trees, Silver heard a small laugh. Straightening and reaching for his discarded sword, he readied himself for whatever would pop out of the woods. “Who goes there?”

“Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to disturb you!” Bashfully, you emerged from behind a tree.

“Were you laughing at me?”

“No? Maybe…” You backtracked quickly when you saw his shoulders slump slightly. “It’s not you, per se! It’s just… your dancing is very… mechanical, I guess is the right word.”

Silver sighed again, “I’ve been working on it.”

“I know.”

He startled. “How long have you been watching?”

“Since the last practice.” You added, “I promise I’m not stalking you or anything! I was sent to pick berries for a pie for the prince’s coronation feast.”

“You work in the castle?”

You nodded, puffing up your chest proudly. “I’m one of the bakers.” You stared at him for a second more before asking, “Would you like me to help you with the waltz? I may not be a dance instructor, but I can certainly show you how to make the movements more fluid.”

Silver nodded silently and you dropped your basket of berries, walking toward him. “Is it alright if I lead?” He nodded again and you took his hand in your own, placing the other on his waist. You ran through it once, saying, “You can’t think too hard about it. Dance is more about feeling than thought.”

“How should I go about that?”

“Focus more on what you’re feeling and do what comes naturally. You clearly have the steps down.”

You started once more, and this time, Silver’s motions were looser, more graceful and flowing. You brought him around the outer edges of the clearing, spinning him under your arm to the imaginary music. You studied him in the fading afternoon sun. He was ethereally beautiful with his pearly silver hair and his kaleidoscopic eyes, undoubtedly highborn. He was solid and steady and warm under your fingers, posture immaculate. There was something strikingly familiar about him but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

Each twist and turn you two took had your heart racing, and as he relaxed, you subtly shifted to following his movements. When the dance came to an end, you parted, slightly breathless, with a grin. “That was much better! You’re a fast learner.”

“Thank you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without your help,” Silver replied, bowing gratefully to you. He checked his watch and said, “I have to get going, but thank you again. I’m in your debt.”

You went to pick up your basket, turning suddenly and calling to Silver’s retreating figure, “I never caught your name!”

“Oh!” He faced you again and with a bow, he said, “I’m Silver, one of Prince Malleus’s personal guards.”

You nearly dropped your basket of berries, breath catching in your throat. That’s why he looked so familiar. You had caught glimpses of him in the castle, walking with Lilia Vanrouge and his fellow guardsman, Sebek Zigvolt, and, of course, the prince himself. Your face heated, and before you could drop into your own bow or stutter out an apology (though you didn’t know for what), he said, “I hope we can meet again soon.” Then, with a practiced, sharp turn, he headed back for the castle.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #.𖥔 ݁ ˖ kaiijo writes

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pizzee · 2 years

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Ok I’m spitballing here because I have Thoughts™️ This has almost no editing so pls have mercy on my soul.

He takes a deep breath.

“All families have something in common.”

He looks away from Elsa. The coffins sit still on the shelves of the crypt. Jack heard a story once from his mother, of how the dead become restless.

(‘They bang and bang on the lid of their coffins, begging and screaming to be let out,’ she whispered beneath the covers. Lissa gripped his hand tighter.

‘But you musn’t release them.’

‘And what happens if you do?’ His sister asked.

Their mamá gave her a long look. ‘The dead are dead for a reason. They are meant to stay that way.’)

The urge to wipe the paint of his face sits low in his stomach.

“The follow us. For good, for bad.”

It’s funny how moving from town to town changes nothing. Jack figures he’s lived in every village, town, city in Mexico and yet every time, every full moon—

(‘Where are we going?’ He’d always ask his mamá every time she shook him and Lissa awake at the stroke of midnight and urged them to get their things.

‘Away,’ she’d mumble, staring up at the moon as she tugged them along. ‘Away.’)

He doesn’t remember his father. He doesn’t remember the lullabies his mamá sang and told him his father sang for him when he was a baby. When he was alive, she’d say in low, dulcet tones while stroking his hair on nights he couldn’t sleep and the moonlight felt like more of spotlight than a sanctuary from the darkness.

When he was alive, she’d whisper to herself when Jack woke up in the middle of the night, restless and confined in the sheets of their bed. She’d hold the only picture of him Jack had ever seen and hold it in front of her, so her tears wouldn’t land on the paper.

When he was alive, Lissa would start a question with, what was he like?

I don’t know, Jack would respond. I don’t know.

“They stay, like they become,” he gestures around his head, “an atmosphere.”

Stifling. Suffocating. The pictures of family members, hanging on every wall in the house they’d settled in when Jack turned 16. His grandfather, his grandmother, aunts and uncles, cousins and family friends. He’d met them once, in Oaxaca, upon his uncle Philip's insistence. Stares, whispers, strangely ominous pieces of advice. When you turn 18, it’ll be your turn.

(’It won’t,’ his mamá had insisted, without saying what exactly it was. She straightened his shirt and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. ‘Not if you don’t let it.’)

“And sometimes, we think that by doing something very specific, we can change everything, and not be like them.”

He doesn’t remember. He never does. He doesn’t know if that’s for the best. He only remembers before.

Lissa, he had said. Lissa, was the last thing he’d said. Lissa was the last thing he saw. (curled in a corner, shaking, watching in fear and horror, tears streaming down her face and— )

He only remembers after.

(’Good morning.’

Lissa offers him a shaky smile. Her face is covered in dirt and sweat. She looks exhausted. She looks relieved.

He bites on his lip, hard. Wills away tears.

‘Good morning.’)

There’s a roar, a yell to get a move on! Jack scoffs fondly.

“Or sometimes they’re just a pain in the ass we have to save all the time!”

#werewolf by night #wwbn spoilers #werewolf by night spoilers #jack russell #yea yea sometimes i write #THIS IS SO ROUGH WHATEVER WHATEVER #had an hour before class and this is what I did instead of work #might turn this into a bigger fic

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prosperdemeter2 · 9 months

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Teaser Tuesday - family reunion

“You’ve done such a good job with them, Margaret.” Natalie said from where she stood next to Philip. “The two of you raised two incredible children.”

The problem with Buck was… well there were quite a few problems, actually, but the biggest one was that he was terrible at keeping his mouth shut when he was tired. He snorted, shifted his leg so that it rested more firmly against Maddie’s foot. “Yeah, good job, Maddie.” He mumbled with a scratch to the side of his nose.

She kicked at his leg, smirking when he yelped. Her eyes were soft, though, gentle in the way Maddie had always looked at him. And he wasn't wrong. Maddie had done a lot more to raise him than either Margarent or Philip Buckley and it didn't seem quite right of his mother to preen like she had been complimented. Like her taking the two of them and running away from their family after Daniel had died was the right choice. "Maddie," Juliana teased with a familiar click of her tongue (that click had followed him all through his childhood. Buck had been able to tell when he was in trouble whenever Philip had clicked his tongue. He hadn't always been able to tell why he was in trouble, but he had gotten pretty good at narrowing down when he was.). Maddie, though, didn't have the same reaction as him (she never did). He slumped further into his seat and crossed his arms tighter around his chest and Maddie smiled gently at their aunt. "Don't kick your brother."

Maddie’s foot tilted to the side, resting firmly against his and their mother pointedly looked at the press of contact between them like it personally insulted her. “He’s falling asleep.” Maddie lied effortlessly, like she had that one time Buck had been sixteen and she had caught him smoking with his friends behind the Shaws grocery store. He just doesn’t feel good, Maddie had told their parents and hustled him up the stairs and into his bedroom. “Want to take Jee?”

Relieved, Buck was more than happy to have something to finally do. He perked up, “Want her in your room?” They probably should have just gotten one, really. At least until Chimney arrived on Friday and maybe even then. It wasn’t like Buck wasn’t used to sharing a room (even sharing a room with Howard Han was familiar at that point). His body protested as he moved but Buck had long since grown used to ignoring the way it whined after little sleep. Maddie sat up too, Jee-Yun’s little face carefully pressed against her shoulder, her tiny chest rising up and down as she peacefully slept on, oblivious to what she had just barely missed.

Natalie startled and fumbled with herself as Maddie and Buck did the well-practiced handoff of sleeping toddler so that she was resting against his shoulder and Maddie was brushing gentle fingers through her dark hair. “You don’t have to rush off!” Natalie insisted. “We-Margaret,” she continued, flustered. “Surely, Jee-Yun can sleep on your bed?”

Jee-Yun, Buck wanted to correct the pronunciation. It wasn’t even like it was a hard name, two syllables and six letters. And, if they couldn’t pronounce it right, she had a perfectly easy to say nickname. Some people just don’t want to try, Hen would have said and pat his shoulder as he straightened.

“Or she can go to mine.” Buck continued as though his… genetic grandmother had said nothing at all. Maddie stared at him and he stared back. She’s trying, her eyes apologized.

I don’t want her to try, Buck had been trying to tell her that in all of the time leading up to the trip. He knew that she understood it, just like he knew that she didn’t quite know how she felt about the entire situation either.

It wasn’t just him they had let their parents hide away.

“You can take her,” Maddie decided with a swallow. “I don’t actually know where I put my key.” She admitted with a sheepish laugh, patting her pocketless yoga pants with a light, pretty flush to her cheeks.

Natalie made a noise in the back of her throat. “You don’t have to rush out.” She pleaded.

Buck had a lot of practice ignoring conversations around him. “Just knock when you come up.” He told her. “We can go to the front desk when you wake up to make you a new key.”

Maddie smiled at him in soft agreement. “Evan,” their mother snapped. “Your grandmother is talking to you.”

His grandmother.

Buck tensed despite himself and Maddie’s smile slowly faded from her cheeks. “Mom,” Maddie said in the same tone their mother had just thrown his way. “Just let it go.”

Margaret opened her mouth to say something, to admonish more than she had before and it was, once again, like he was ten years old again, stuck between his parents and Maddie, watching his big sister fight his battles for him. He bristled and Margaret bristled and Natalie’s hand touched his forearm, briefly, just above where he was holding onto Jee-Yun’s body. He jerked back, obvious enough that everyone had seen it and, not for the first time over the entirety of this trip did he miss Eddie and the way he would have seamlessly stepped in front of them (just like he did with handsy patients on calls) and bodily nudged Buck on his way out of the room. “Can I walk with you to your room?” Natalie asked quietly. “I would love if we… had a moment alone.”

A moment alone.

Buck didn’t want a moment alone with her. He didn’t want a moment alone with any of them. Please, Maddie’s eyes begged, it’ll mean the world to her.

Or maybe Buck was being unfair to her again. This family hadn’t just left him behind but Maddie too. She wanted a relationship with them, he wanted to make sure they weren’t going to leave her behind again, and at least Natalie was trying, whatever the hell that meant after thirty-some years. “Fine.” He muttered and Maddie’s eyes dropped from his face and to the floor.

#teaser tuesday #family reunion #maddie buckley #evan buckley #911 fic

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apinchofm · 1 year

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Uncle Phillip

@spitefularmand @torchwood-99 @viscountessevie @hptriviachamp @enigma-the-mysterious @alrightsnaps @datsusara84 @problematiquefics @angel-starbeam @ietss @jeanvanjer

Among more things Eloise did not think she would do, was do picnics in the park. But she and were sitting on a large blanket. Neddy and the twins were running around.

"How's Marina?" Kate asked.

"Stressing over Fashion Week." Eloise sighed, thinking of her hardworking, "I managed to spoon solid food and not coffee into her mouth yesterday as she made a phonecall about tulle."

"Edwina and Daphne are the same," Kate laughed, "Simon and Matthew are getting worried. Well, Simon is more used to it. If I ever doubted Matthew's devotion, I may have to eat my words - he goes with her to fittings and everything!"

Eloise had noticed the man watching her and the children for a while. Some tall white guy dressed like a lawyer. Lawyers could be creeps.

"Hey, Kate, can you watch the twins?" She asked her sister-in-law, cutting off the conversation.

"Yeah, of course." She said, confused as Eloise stormed up to a man she did not recognise.

He did not seem to realise Eloise was approaching him and his eyes widened in surprise.

"May I help you? Or do I need to call the police?" Eloise asked him sharply.

"I just wanted to see them." He told her apologetically.

"Excuse me?!"

"Okay, wait, that came out really wrong!" He said holding up his hands, "My name is Phillip Crane and I believe I am the uncle to those children."

---

"Philip Crane?"

Marina stopped twisting her hair when Eloise told her about what had happened.

"He's George's younger brother. Gosh, I haven't seen him in years!" She continued, then turned around, "I didn't even think he was in the country."

Eloise who was sitting on their bed, in pyjamas sighed, "He didn't know?"

"None of them knew."

Marina sat down on the bed next to her, sighing, "I wasn't allowed to go to George's funeral. I decided I really did not want the children around them."

The Cranes were an old family, with a long history in the British military at all ranks and were very strict about who they associated with. Marina Thompson, a half French, black, bisexual stylist was far from the ideal but George fell in love with her. She loved him too, a gentle giant and Navy man. Then he had to go away and his submarine sunk off the coast of Somalia. And his family told her not to come to the funeral. She and George were not married, after all.

"What if he tries to take the twins?" Marina asked quietly, "He could use our sexualities, my depression." But Eloise was having none of it, clutching her hand tightly and looking at her

"You were depressed because the guy you loved died and his family treated you like dirt. And if he wants to take our children, he will have to go through me." She said determinedly, "You are a brilliant mum and he has no claim. He's an uncle who is turned up out of nowhere!"

---

The Bridgertons heard, because Kate told Anthony what happened and no one in that family could keep anything to themselves.

"Do you want us to pay this Phillip Crane a visit?" Anthony asked over Sunday Dinner, "Ben, Colin, Greg?"

"You three are the least intimidating idiots I know." Marina deadpanned. Then she smiled at Gregory, "But thank you." He was her favourite of the bunch, aside from Eloise of course.

Philipe came to their home on Saturday.

"You cut your hair." Marina said. He looked so much older than when she last saw him.

"You stopped straightening yours." He said with a small chuckle.

They fell into an awkward silence, so Eloise stepped forward, "Nice to see you again. Glad you are not a child predator."

He looked embarrassed, "I'm so sorry about that. I just had been walking past and saw..."

"It's fine." Eloise said with a small smile.

"How long have the two of you been together?" He asked.

"A year and a half." Marina said, a smile to her, "We're getting married in July. It would be sooner, but this one has a book tour and I have pieces to finish - fashion week, the Met Gala."

"Again, this is why we should elope rather than let Daphne plan." Eloise said, fondly rolling her eyes, "I'll marry you anywhere."

Philip smiled at the two of them, "Congratulations."

"I'll leave you two to talk." Eloise said, "I think an impromptu game of hide and seek has begun!" With that, she made her way upstairs, where she knew the twins were hiding.

Marina and Philip sat down in the living room, tea prepared on a tray, "My parents always said tough conversations needed tea. Actually, my father prefers whiskey as part of the drink."

"How are your parents?" Phillip asked

"Good. They retired to the south of France last year. Got another farm, because Dad can't just retire." Marina said and he smiled, "How have you been?"

"Good. Good. I came home for the funeral, left soon after. I'm sorry for not calling."

"You were grieving." She pointed out.

"So were you." Phillip said, shaking his head, "I just got back from Cape Town." He explained, "And a friend of mine told me that you had children. Toddlers."

"And you did the math." Marina finished and he nodded.

"I can't believe you were pregnant." He said, "Did George know?"

"No." Marina shook her head, "No, he never got my email and well, your family were not exactly the most welcoming bunch."

"I'm sorry about that. Truly." Philip said. He had liked Marina. She made George happy. He was free from the pressure from their father when he was around her.

"I did love George. I hope you know that."

"I do." Phillip said, "I was sad that we didn't get to know each other better. But I want to now, especially with the children."

"The twins do know. Who their dad is." Marina informed.

"Oh, they do?" He blinked, surprised.

"I would never want to hide that away from them. They just know that their father was in the army and he passed away." She explained and he nodded, "I do not need to get into family politics of your racist father."

He grimaced at her frank tone, but could not disagree, "Well, I do wish to help. I'm based in Kent, but am in London rather often. Anything you need-"

"Oh, Phillip, you owe me nothing." Marina said gently.

"You're family, it's not about debt. I don't want to disrupt your life or relationship. But I do want to know my niece and nephew, that is all." He said with a shy smile.

She brought him to the playroom, where Eloise was lying down on the plush carpet, passing blocks to Oliver and Amanda.

"Mummy, look!" Oliver said excitedly but frowned at the stranger.

"I see, my love." Marina smiled, "This is your uncle Philip. He was your daddy's brother."

Oliver stayed by Eloise, his stepmother sitting up to hug him reassuringly. He was nervous when it came to new people. Amanda, on the hand, stood up, looking at Phillip curiously.

"Hello." Amanda said, "You were our dad's brother?"

"He was my older brother." He explained, kneeling down to her height, "I'm guessing you are the oldest." She grinned and nodded.

Oliver looked like George. He had his mother's skin town and curly hair but George's eyes and nose, "Hello Oliver." Philip said gently.

In response, Oliver whispered something to Eloise who nodded.

"Olly wants to know if you like Legos." Eloise asked of him.

"I very much do like Legos." Philip confirmed, making Olly smile.

"Good." Amanda grabbed his hand, pulling him to the floor, "We are making a zoo. Have you been to the zoo?"

"I have been to many zoos. I once saw a lion up close!" He said and Amanda launched into questions as he helped them build their zoo.

Eloise stood, going over to Marina who was watching on with a smile, "Quite the unorthodox family, aren't we?"

"Well, there is no fun in convention." Marina whispered back.

#meloise #philip crane #marina thompson #eloise bridgerton #modern au #kate sharma #fluff #angst #bridgerton #bridgerton au #modern bridgerton #bridgerton femslash #the crane family #eloise x marina #marina x eloise

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missallanea · 12 days

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*deep breath* Every day, I think about how Philip / Belos had seen Evelyn. Every day, I'm stuck... just thinking about how all the Clawthorne women bear a striking resemblance to one another. And thinking about how Lilith started dyeing her hair after joining the Emperor's Coven. And not only dyeing her hair, but straightening it as well.

What did that man say to her to make her insecure enough to dye her hair for 20+ years??

#❪ ⠀ ✦ ⠀ ─── ⠀ lilith clawthorne / headcanon ⠀﹕ ⠀who am i without magic? without a coven? ⠀ ❫#/ i don't post about lily enough...

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rreskk · 18 days

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BELONGING

Summary: You had a void in your heart. A void only a mother could experience. Without the ability to have a baby, he wanted to please you in other ways. Showing his appreciation and how he can replace your misery.

TW: Smut

Pairings: Fem!reader/ Trevor Philips

Word count: 1424

You were wearing a fine, black silked nightdress with breasts at liberty of moving from under the smooth fabrics – visible but comfortable and loose to your preference. It was usually a normal outfit to wear before bed. If not normal; then innocently spontaneous. It was a hot evening! Your body invited the breeze of his trailer, hence the purpose of your silky nightdress that brought his attention from the television set.

Background noise faintly swallowed as his interest peeked. Trevor lowered his can of beer and watched your chest area with attentiveness. Your breasts squirmed, nipples erected and visible through the luxurious fabrics. He couldn’t centre his attention away.

That said, his mouth watered obscurely. Trevor recalled the sensation of your nipple sitting on his boyish tongue, sucking, clamming up as much he could devour from you. Though you were so innocent with your nightdress – fixing up the dishes, your arms outstretched and face peaceful with the tranquillity of his quiet trailer – which was never usually the case.

But, oh… How you teased him.

His oral fixation ached for your maternal love and so he jumped off the wooden table with an eager inquiry. His feet bounced and he stood behind you, his height towering over your powerful place. You were always an idol in his eyes – throughout the thick and the thin of his tendencies.

Trevor didn’t have to speak. You felt his creaky presence and gazed over your shoulder, recognising that same look he’d give you whenever you offered yourself to him; his brown eyes sparkling and lips quivering with saliva. The physical depth to his needs becoming strangely consistent that you worked as a newly mother supplying attention and love to her baby.

It was a thought you both shared after the relationship aged by months and months. But it never came as he was unable to provide you with a baby. It sparked a void in your dreams – yet it was quickly filled by the alternative:

“Again?” His rough voice hushed.

You replied with no words. The dress dropped from your shoulder, further exposing your freed chest.

Slipping against the counter – he worked.

Trevor knelt down and praised your chest with his mouth; feasting at your nipple as he felt the wash of your milk breeze into his mouth, contaminating his ultimate desire and lust of your bodily furnishings.

“That’s right…” You found your voice. Your affectionate fingers travelled through his thinning hair. It was a comforting gesture that made him whimper against your breast, his eyelids opening and revealing the sepia colour. He always enjoyed your praises – it made him feel good about his worth and his value to you. After all, you were the only thing he had. And he cherished it more than his life.

The dress fell to the kitchen floor and you were left bare.

“Ma…” His words muffled as he continuously sucked your sore nipple, “Mama…”

“You couldn’t wait?” You had asked, shivering at the labour of his tongue.

Although you sounded unconcerned; it was more teasing.

He found himself grabbing your hips pathetically as his legs struggled to hold his weight anymore. But he wanted to keep on sucking. It was a shameless habit he lives by – like a law he’d plague with loyalty.

Your breast slipped out of his mouth and he looked up like a leash-less puppy. Milk drizzled down his chin, and with a small breath, his brows furrowed. “I shouldn’t have to wait.”

“Oh?”

He straightened his posture and pressed his forehead against yours. His breath smelt sour and hot. It flushed your cheeks.

“It’s been ages.” Trevor tried to explain his dying thirst, but he was still a lost dog in a road full of headlights. He never admits his deepest desire to use you like a nurturing caregiver. A shared bond he’s frightened to share with anyone else; a maternal hand whose love is portrayed in ways more than romance.

“It’s been three days.” You grinned with amusement. Followed by the frantic state of his mouth returning to your nipple again. He kneeled, infused in the love he was providing you. His hands returned to your hips and he sucked and sucked and sucked – leaving you a grunting mess against the kitchen counter.

In response to your observations; not a care was given. Three days, four days, yesterday… Trevor’s abuse of sensation riddles his concept of time, resulting in desperate loves of your breasts from day to day as he simply was infatuated.

Later that day your dress was completely disregarded. It remained on the kitchen floor while you were moved.

Lying underneath him, his hard cock beastly attacks your pussy, your tit still hanging from his mouth.

It didn’t take long to find this position.

Trevor’s hips were rushing to thrust into yours with everything in his will. You were clinging to his shoulders, your fine nails slowly grazing his shoulder blades; red lines trailing down his muscular frame as he kept on fucking you.

“Argh – “ Your breast suppressed all his noise. You could feel him moan though. Like a whiney cat. It was constant and high-pitched. His voice would break and wobble each time you physically connected. And each time made you gasp out a pleasant moan as well.

“Fuck, Trevor…” You exhaled and praised.

He changed breasts, moving to your right. His tongue wasted no time and devoured the nipple. His eyes fell onto you, seeing you beam, making him shudder. He let go of your chest and finally had liberty to speak.

“I’m making you feel so good, mommy.” Murmured Trevor.

“Mm… So good…” Your hands stayed glued to his back.

“I’m not gonna last.”

“It’s okay, baby.” He immediately felt reassured when you relaxed his nerves. Not like he was ashamed of how long he lasts – which is not that long – he was more concerned about you. He wanted to please you. Trevor was at heaven whenever you’d praise him for fucking you rough. He liked your noises, smile, moans, scratches, breasts.

“I – I’m gonna cum inside… You.” He finally stated, his eyes peeling to his cock and your pussy.

With the warning, you nodded and stretched out. He pulled back in, guiding his erection with a free hand as it’ll slip out with the grease of your wetness. Both of you moaned together, finding each other at a pitch and continuing to concentrate on the climax approaching.

“Fuck…” Trevor thrusted again. “I fuckin’ love you. I could fuck you all day, mommy… All day. I was made to fuck you.”

His dirty talk churned your stomach in the most enlightening way.

You could only gasp in response and felt him twitch uncontrollably. So with a steady finger, you caressed his bottom lip, ignoring the drool and drops of saliva. You carried on caressing his bottom lip – even when he took your finger into his mouth and began to suck. He needed some oral fixation. He would’ve attacked your breasts again but he needed to concentrate.

Your fingers ached and was trampled by his teeth.

You didn’t care though. It uplifted your spirits.

Trevor thrusted one last time before shooting a load inside. He fell forward and moaned into your chest. His moan sounded painful but you knew it was out of relief.

“Fuckin’ fuck!” He protested, his hips jerking backwards and hands profusely sweating.

His cum stayed inside and it felt right. You couldn’t help but seize the opportunity and rub your clit as he recovered against your breasts. The sounds of his panting was enough to get yourself off to.

Already so sensitive, you rubbed your clit until cum drippled out of your cunt and wedging around his cock. Trevor’s penis throbbed at the sensation of your wetness, causing him to breathe directly into your neck. “I wanna stay inside you.”

“Please.” You agreed and grabbed his hips, ensuring he stayed.

Trevor waited a few silent minutes then leaned up to face you. His hair was damp and face red with veins standing in his neck. He was vulnerable and fell back into your neck before licking and nibbling the skin.

“Keep going.” He heard your commands and unconsciously followed them, trailing up your jaw and finding your lips. A kiss occurred; a sweet one to reminisce the reason you love being together.

And the next morning you didn’t bother picking up that nightdress. The sight of it shrivelled up on the floor made you smile. So it remained there – just where it belongs.

Just how he likes it.

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