#Perfect for capturing that mysterious

[k-dreamwhisperer]

🐦‍⬛✨ Korean Dream Symbolism: Flock of Crows ✨🐦‍⬛

TL;DR: Dreaming of a flock of crows (까마귀) in Korean culture? Your subconscious is serving you some INTENSE spiritual tea ☕

What it means:

Plot twist incoming - major change is brewing

Spiritual alarm clock - divine warnings/messages

Emotional baggage check - suppressed feelings rising to surface

Transformation tension - uncomfortable growth period ahead

The vibe: Crows in Korean folklore are giving mysterious messenger energy - not necessarily bad, just... complex. It's like your ancestors sliding into your DMs with cryptic advice.

Big mood: That eerie feeling when you know something's shifting but can't put your finger on what. Your dream crows are basically saying "buckle up, change is coming whether you're ready or not"

Psychology meets Korean spirituality - when your subconscious channels ancient omens 🔮

For full story, pls visit thr following story.

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts

[akdoo]

What is the Hottest Perfume Right Now?

If you’re on the hunt for the hottest perfume of the season, one that commands attention, sparks intrigue, and becomes your personal statement, you’ve come to the right place. In the world of fragrance, trends are constantly evolving, but one thing remains constant: people are craving perfumes that evoke mystery, sensuality, and confidence. And right now, there’s a scent that embodies all three — Dark Addiction by Akdoo.

The Rise of Niche Perfumes: Why Everyone’s Talking About Akdoo

Perfume lovers are increasingly moving away from mass-produced scents and turning to niche perfumes — unique, limited-production fragrances that tell a story. These perfumes are not just accessories; they are experiences bottled up, ready to be discovered. This year, one brand making waves in the niche fragrance scene is Akdoo, known for its captivating blends and powerful identity.

So, What Makes Dark Addiction So Hot Right Now?

Akdoo’s Dark Addiction has captured the attention of fragrance enthusiasts for its ability to balance seductive depth with modern elegance. It’s a perfume designed for those who dare to be different, who want their fragrance to linger long after they leave a room.

This scent comes in a convenient 15ml bottle, making it perfect for your daily adventures or spontaneous nights out. It may be small in size, but its impact is anything but small.

Why You Need Dark Addiction in Your Collection

It’s Distinctive: Dark Addiction is not your typical floral or fruity scent. It invites you into a world of smoky notes, intriguing spices, and a subtle sweetness that keeps people guessing.

Confidence in a Bottle: This perfume empowers you with a confident edge. It’s for those who embrace their desires and express themselves unapologetically.

Perfect for All Occasions: Whether you’re at a dinner date, a party, or a casual get-together, Dark Addiction adapts to the moment and leaves a lasting impression.

Crafted for Longevity: While some perfumes fade within hours, Dark Addiction is designed to stay with you, subtly transforming throughout the day.

How to Wear Dark Addiction

For the Evening: A couple of sprays on your pulse points — wrists, neck, and behind the ears — will intensify its allure under dim lights.

For the Day: A lighter application offers just the right amount of sophistication for work or casual outings.

Join the Hottest Fragrance Trend

Perfume isn’t just about smelling good; it’s about expressing who you are. If you want to be at the forefront of what’s trending, add Dark Addiction by Akdoo to your collection and discover why so many are making this their signature scent.

Shop Now at Akdoo

[ndfan3]

Country Scene

“But all this…” Nancy said, almost despairingly, and indicated the make up paint, the disguises and, crucially, the Country Scene painting itself, “all this proves you are the thief, Greg!” The man looked back at the girl sleuth impassively. “You got lucky, Nancy,” he replied simply, “if you had intruded here just twenty four hours from now, I would have shifted all this stuff -including the damned painting. You are still short of proof though, particularly if I stop you leaving here.” Nancy held up her phone quickly. “I’ve taken photographs of everything, Greg. It’s over.” The art dealer’s expressionless mask cracked slightly. “Give me that!” he said to the young detective, a new tone of urgency in his voice and he stepped forward, with a distinct sense of menace. Nancy smiled. “You can have it, Greg,” she replied and held the phone out to him, “but I have forwarded every single picture to Bess, George, Ned, Mr Armitage and Sergeant Edwards at the precinct. In fact I’d imagine the police are on their way now.” Greg looked around, his eyes darting from door to door. “I took the liberty of locking up.” Nancy told him matter of factly. “But I seem to have lost the keys.” Greg continued to look at Nancy almost nonchalantly. Only his words betrayed his defeat. “You win, Miss Drew.” he said.

By the time the wailing sirens reached Greg’s eccentric lock up, Nancy was already walking out to meet them, Greg in tow. The captured art dealer retained his apparent calm, but his hands were bound together behind his back. “Well done, Nancy,” said Sergeant Edwards with an indulgent smile as his officers took the sleuth’s prisoner off her hands. “you’ve caught the thief and saved the gallery. Mr Armitage will be mightily relieved.” Nancy smiled happily in response and glanced over at the painting. “In truth, sergeant,” she remarked, “I really don’t know what people see Country Scene. I always thought it was overrated…”

My interpretation of the story behind the cover to The Picture-Perfect Mystery, The Nancy Drew Mystery Stories #94 (April 1990).

[marimeeko]

5 chapters?

It's not that it's ending but it's ending so soon and there are so many unanswered questions??

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Summertime [B. F.]

Bob Floyd x fem!reader

wc: 1k

summary: Rooster and Hangman spot a mysterious woman… who turns out to be already taken.

“Hey, Rooster. Hottie at 12 o’clock.”

Jake's voice broke the euphoria of the moment. Bradley was energetically celebrating a perfect pass he'd just thrown to one of his teammates, capping off an intense round of the improvised beach game. The sun was blazing high, the clear sky seemed to melt onto the sand, and the waves crashed in a slow rhythm as the pilots—sweaty, wet, and covered in sand—ran back and forth amid shouts, laughter, and tanned bodies.

“That fatso?”

“On my 12, idiot,” Hangman replied in annoyance, rolling his eyes. “Turn to your left.”

Bradley obeyed, curious. And then he saw her: leaning elegantly against the railing of the beach cabin, a woman observing the scene. The wind gently ruffled her hair, and the sun cast golden glints on her exposed skin. She wore a simple bikini top, denim shorts, and a light white robe that barely covered her back. Hanging over her shoulder was a jute bag adorned with a colorful scarf tied to the handle.

“I think for the first time we agree, Hangman.”

They both stood motionless, watching her from a distance as if the world had slowed down. She seemed to be searching for something—or someone—in the crowd, her face turning intently while her sunglasses obscured her intentions.

“What do you think she's here for?” Rooster asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Maybe she just wanted to see a bunch of shirtless machos," Jake replied with a crooked smile. "I hope so, man. Because that doll looks like something out of a damn dream."

As if she'd heard them, the woman raised her hand in their direction, greeting them with a broad, bright smile. They looked at each other, puzzled.

“She’s waving at us. Wave back!” Brad ordered, nudging the blond.

They both raised their hands enthusiastically, thoughtlessly using that charming smile that had worked so often for them. But just when they thought they'd captured her attention, a third player entered the scene: someone was running from the side toward the woman, with determined steps.

“Bob? Does he know her?”

“So it seems”

Floyd approached her urgently, his smile widening with every stride. He didn't even let her descend the cabin steps: from his lower position, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground in a surprise hug. She let out a loud, genuine laugh that pierced even the sound of the waves.

“Maybe it's his sister or something,” Hangman suggested, still trying to grasp a reasonable idea.

But the illusion shattered in seconds. As soon as Bob placed her on the ground, he leaned down and kissed her with such confidence that it left no room for interpretation. She responded with the same intensity, wrapping her arms around him as if they'd been searching for each other for centuries.

“Well, unless incest is seen as a good thing in Lemoore…” the black-haired man began, “I don’t think she’s his sister.”

They both froze, watching the scene with a mixture of amazement and envy. Bob's arms settled naturally around the woman's waist, while she took off her sunglasses to get a better look at him.

She spoke animatedly, gesturing with her hands and smiling with every sentence. Although they couldn't hear the conversation, it was clear they were in their own world. When she wasn't speaking, she rested her hands on Bob's chest, with a familiarity that was impossible to fake.

When it was his turn to speak, she looked at him with such devotion that even from a distance, the intensity was palpable. Her eyes practically glowed, her expression screaming a deep crush. Just a few girls had ever looked at them like that in their lives.

Bob's index finger pointed in the direction of the beach, as if he were telling her about his crewmates, and she waved her hand in that direction again.

“I think she’s actually waving at us now.”

“I hope so. Say hi, idiot.”

The two of them repeated the gesture, this time with some nervousness. To their surprise, she waved again. She laughed at something Bob whispered to her and then turned her attention back to him, caressing his face before stealing another kiss. Small, soft, close together. He placed one more on her cheek before taking her hand and starting to walk toward the beach.

“Don’t run away, coward”

“I wasn’t planning to” Rooster replied, though he was lying. The step he took back had given him away.

They stayed where they were, waiting. Bob and the girl finally approached.

“Huh, have you seen Maverick? I need to talk to him.”

“I think he’s sitting in his lounge chair… or something,” Jake replied vaguely. Then he looked at her with interest “Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friend?”

“Sure. Guys, this is my wife. Honey, this is Lieutenant Jake Seresin and Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw.”

They both stood with their mouths ajar, trying to process what he had said. They wondered if they had heard wrong, but sure they hadn't. 

“Nice to meet you,” she said with a smile, extending her hand. “I’m sorry to burst in like this. I wanted to surprise Bob. I hope my arrival doesn’t interrupt anything important.”

“Not at all,” Rooster said quickly. “It’s a pleasure to meet Mrs. Floyd.”

The pilots glanced at each other and couldn't help but notice the slight blush they both—she and Bob—shared, as if the expression 'married couple' still sounded new and shiny to them. 

“Let’s go find Mav. See you later,” Bob said, before leading her by the hand.

“Bye, Bobby” 

“Nice to meet you,” Rooster added.

They waited until the couple had walked a few steps away before spilling their guts.

“His wife? Can you believe it?”

“Of course. The guy is a true gentleman. I'm sure he won her over on the first date.”

“The world is so unfair,” Jake hissed. His friend laughed, resigned.

“Or we are idiots”

“Rooster, I think, for the first time, I completely agree with you too.”

taglist: @littlemsbumblebee

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.

tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.

“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.

satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”

you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.

“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.

the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.

when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.

“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.

satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.

it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.

“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”

your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.

you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.

“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.

you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.

“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.

somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”

nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.

[imfromsixam]

The Princess and the Vampire Kids Bedroom (CC Pack for The Sims 4)

I'm happy to share my latest CC pack with you, the magical realms of "The Princess and the Vampire Kids Bedroom".  This CC pack is a celebration of childhood fantasies, with two distinct themes: the grace of a princess and the mystique of a vampire.

Imagine a bedroom that captures the whimsy of a fairy tale princess or the playful spookiness of a vampire's lair. It's not just furniture; it's an adventure waiting to unfold!

In the Princess Bedroom, elegant fantasy takes center stage. A canopy with drapes and an elegant puffy bed that are fit for royalty. In addition to other items such as a brand new activity table, a rug with cute designs, a little cloud wall lamp to enhance the room, and some other elements perfect for your little prince or princess. This bedroom is out of a fairy tale.

On the other hand, the Vampire Bedroom brings iconic vampire aesthetics to life in a kid-friendly way. Think bat-themed decor, coffin-shaped bed that's both spooky and inviting. A toy box with some mysterious plush friends and a cute Dracula lamp. It's a perfect blend of darkness and fun that'll leave your little Sims feeling enchanted.   I can't wait to see your Sims' kids embark on fantastical journeys in these enchanting bedrooms! 🌈🏰🧛‍♂️

▶️GET EARLY ACCESS HERE

Check out all the info about this pack on my website here.

[thunderc1an]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁..𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Snowclan, a clan in perpetual snow.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁..𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This is a redraw of a fanclan I made in middleschool, the first redraw of this clan I made was in 2021, I revamped my designs and reworked some concepts slightly.

Snowclan: Nestled in a land of seemingly perpetual snow (a mountain), this clan stands as the sole group in its frigid territory. While there is another clan, Wheatclan, it lies almost a two-day trek away on paw. During the full moon, both clans converge in a single spot, the crumbling twoleg nest. Both clans rest in this middle point before returning to their respective clans. The cats of Snowclan are notably welcoming to newcomers; they recognize the challenges posed by their harsh environment and are eager to offer and receive assistance.

Character pronouns, age + miscellaneous information. 

-Troutstar (??? moons, he/him) A wise old cat that carries a mysterious past; many have forgotten the leader who came before him. He is both caring and patient, and he takes immense pride in his role as the grandfather of Sweetbasil, his greatest treasure.

-Cheesepelt (around 40 moons, he/him). The prophecy cat, a former kittypet who joined the clan recently, was appointed deputy almost immediately, much to the displeasure of the previous deputy. He doesn't have much desire to assume the role of deputy or become the clan's next leader; he's an anxious individual but means well. He is also the father of Sweetbasil's upcoming kits, a closely kept secret.

-Sweetbasil (44 moons, she/her). Medicine cat apprentice. Caring and compassionate, yet occasionally sharp-tongued. Currently expecting. The clan is beginning to notice, but they remain respectful and quiet about it, even if whispers linger in the air.

-Honeydew (81 moons, he/him). Snowclan's medicine cat and the twin brother of Cloudflight. Honeydew is the true father of Rabbitleap. He is a gentle and soft-spoken cat, known for his kindness and love towards everyone around him, though he is not quickly taken advantage of. His heart was captured by a kittypet named Robin. With Cloudflight's support, he brought their daughter, Rabbitkit, into the clan. Cloudflight takes on the role of Rabbitleap's adoptive father.

-Littlebat (125 moons, she/her). The previous deputy who harbors resentment toward an inexperienced individual who took her hard-earned role. She is the mother of Redberry and Ashbreeze and mates with Suntonge. Her parenting style is marked by a tough-love approach. Her family's linage within the clan is older than that of 4 generations of leaders.

-Suntongue (123 moons, he/him). Having a deepely content character. Those of all ages come to him seeking a warm, fatherly embrace. He's a formidable warrior but possesses a forgiving and merciful nature towards his foes. Proud father of Redberry and Ashbreeze. He arrived to the clan as a kit accompanied by kin.

-Bearthroat (around 83 moons, he/they). The biggest cat in the clan, known for their impressive claws. They came to the clan as an outsider during a fierce snowstorm and decided to stay. Though reserved and speak little, they have formed friendships within the clan. They are the biological parent of Applepaw and Pepperpaw.

-Cloudflight (81 moons, he/him). Boisterous and cheerful, this cat has a wonderfully friendly disposition. He shares a deep bond with his brother, and the two are practically inseparable. Naturally, he eagerly stepped into the role of adoptive father when his brother made the request. He treats Rabbitleap as if she were his own child, and treats Wooljump in a smiliar manner. His grandparents were former loners who integrated themselves into Snowclan life.

-Cardinalcall (82 moons, any pronouns). A rather snobbish cat who relishes sharing gossip with others. With a distant attitude, they often come across as self-centered. After having the desire for 'perfect' kits, they approached Bearthroat to ask him to sire her litter. Although they are not mates, it was agreed that Bearthroat would take on a parental role for both Applepaw and Peperpaw. Their family linage within the clan is older than that of Littlebat.

-Redberry (37 moons, they/them). Reserved yet not shy, this cat approaches the world with a healthy dose of skepticism. They enjoy asking questions, even if not all have clear answers. With a sharp intellect, they occasionally overlook their own insights. Their bond with their sister, Ashbreeze, is particularly strong.

-Rabbitleap (20 moons, she/her) (The main character I focus on) Cheerful and genuinely kind-hearted. She suspects that Cloudflight isn't her biological father. Yet, the truth about her origins remained a mystery until she encountered a kittypet named Robin during the early days of her apprenticeship. Robin revealed herself as her mother, and they quickly formed a close bond. However, as Rabbitleap sought out Robin one fateful night, she stumbled upon the clan's medicine cat, Honeydew, with his tail entwined with Robin's. Confusion washed over her, leaving her uncertain about interpreting the scene. For now, she remained silent, simply observing and waiting to see what would unfold.

-Butterflybounce (21 moons, she/her) She possesses a charming and somewhat clumsy personality, and her closest friends are Rabbitleap and Wooljump. With her long legs, she tends to stumble and trip over her own feet. Despite the rare blooming of flowers in Snowclan, she has a deep affection for them. She also has a crush on a beautiful she-cat kittypet named Diamond. She hails from a long lineage of Snowclan warriors, but she is the last member of her family, as her parents died when she was still young.

-Shadowpaw (9 moons, he/him) A reserved but focused individual. Despite the warm welcome he received from Snowclan, he still feels the need to demonstrate his value. He is originally from Wheatclan, yet due to an incident he was brought to Snowclan at the start of his apprenticeship. (Mentor: Bearthroat)

-Pepperpaw (7 moons, she/her). Arrogant and very particular about following rules. She believes she is destined for leadership, influenced by her family's long lineage as Snowclan cats; a trait notable in a clan that openly welcomes loners and kittypets into their ranks. (Mentor: Redberry)

-Applepaw (7 moons, he/him) A lively young cat who believes that everyone and everything is his friend. His relationship with Pepperpaw is somewhat strained, as he never cared for his linage nor perfection. (Official Mentor: Ashbreeze, Step-in Mentor: Rabbitleap)

-Ashbreeze (37 moons, she/her) She lost the use of her vocal cords at a young age but has developed her own unique way of communicating with others. Strong-willed and determined, she is currently expecting. There’s some speculation about the father of her litter being a loner that has been recently seen wondering around the clan territiory.

-Wooljump (20 moons, he/they). A laid-back and easygoing cat. His closest friends are Rabbitleap and Butterflybounce. They aren't particularly fond of the warrior lifestyle and believe that being a permanent queen would suit them better. They found within clan territory as a kit, their origin is not known.

-Graywood (??? moons, she/they) Little is known about Graywood, but one thing is certain: their tales are among the finest. There is a running joke of figuring out whether Graywood is older than Troutstar.

[classyrbf]

DO I LOOK LIKE HIM! — MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...all his life it was just him and his mother, his father nowhere to be seen or found, vanished, a ghost. No one ever spoke a word of him, he didn’t even know his name. But deep down he begs for answers as his mother always said that he looked just like ‘him’

INFO...megumi fushiguro x mom!reader, toji x fem!reader, angst angst angst, megs is 17, absent father, family trauma, young love, arguing, talks of pregnancy, talks of killing/assassination, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

based on: like him by tyler the creator

“Alright move closer into the photo—yep! Perfect!” Your mom held the camera up to her eye, slightly bending down. “Alright, three…two…one!” She snapped the photo, smiling as she looked at you and Toji.

It was Megumi’s first birthday, friends and family surrounding to celebrate. Endless gifts and food, music playing over the speakers. Small children ran around the yard, infectious laughter filling the air. The sun shined brightly, not a cloud in the sky. You were happy. Toji held Megumi tight in arm, looking down at the baby with a full head of jet black hair.

You and Toji had met in high school, falling for each other in an instant. You were captivated by his silent and mysterious presence and Toji was capture by your smile and the way your eyes shined in the light. But neither of you expected to end up with a baby boy just two years later after graduation. Not a single moment was regretted. You wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“Happy birthday, little man,” he scoffed, holding Megumi above his head. He babbled, giggling as he chewed on his chubby fingers, smiling at his father with love in his eyes.

“I can’t wait to frame this one. You guys look so cute.” Your mom pouted, walking back into the house to put the camera away.

A soft smile spread across your face, holding onto Toji’s arm. “Did you ever think you’d become a dad?” You suddenly asked, watching as your baby played with the fabric of his shirt.

Toji turned towards you, a confused look on his face. “No, but…I’m happy I did. You know I’d do anything for you two.” Toji pulled you in by your waist. “Did you ever think you’d become a mom?”

You shook your head, reaching a hand out to move hair out Megumi’s face. “It’s just weird. We were so young, you know? We still are. But, it feels right.” You rested your heard on his shoulder, letting out a small sigh. A small laugh erupted from your chest, “I carry him for nine months and he came out looking exactly like you.”

“What can I say? I got strong genes, baby.” He nudges you slightly, teasing.

“Oh, hush. I did all the work.” You roll your eyes at him.

“I’m only messing with you.” He plants a kiss on your forehead. “Go on, give mama a kiss, little man.” He holds Megumi towards you. As if on cue, he leans his head down and places his slobbery mouth on your forehead. “There you go! Good job!” He chuckles, smiling at his son. “I can’t wait until you’re older so I can teach you about all sorts of things.” Megumi grabs ahold of Toji’s finger in his small palm, squeezing it. “Gonna teach you all types of sports, how to fight so you can protect mommy. I bet you’ll be a good baseball player.” Megumi squeals at Toji. “Baseball? Yeah? Alright, baseball it is.” He kisses his cheek.

You stand there, admiring your two favorite boys. It’s like you see the future when you look at them. A happy life, a cozy home. Maybe even a sibling for Megumi. A ring on your finger, happily married. Thinking of the days when Megumi starts going to school and brings back all his little projects so you can put them in a box and keep them for the future. You already had so much planned at such a young age, but you were determined to fight for it. For him. For your son.

Megumi sits on the edge of his bed, deep in thought. The ceiling fan provides a low hum as it spins. He stares at the wilted paper in his hand, a handwritten note to him—one he’s never seen until now. His chest feels tight, tears welling in his eyes as he reads who it’s from over and over again.

—Your Dad

It feels like he can’t breathe, anger swirling through him. He thinks of all those times you dismissed his questions and conversations about his father—whoever his father was. And now, he was holding a note from him that was written fifteen years ago. A note of how sorry he is and nothing else. A man of few words. No explanation, nothing.

Growing up, Megumi learned from a young age that he looked just like ‘him’. His grandmother and grandfather always slipping up, staring at him like a ghost had just walked in the room. It only got worse as he grew older, starting growing into his features. You even began to stare at him, a look of sadness in your eyes. He never would say anything, always keeping his mouth shut like he didn’t notice. Not once, did you ever speak of his father. Hell, he didn’t even know his name or what he looked like, but from what he’s been told, he probably looks like an older version of him.

All those days, watching fathers bond with their sons, his friends dads coming to sports games, school events, he always felt like deep down something was missing. He felt different. Every Father’s Day, being tasked to make something special in school for their fathers, but how is a nine year old supposed to say he doesn’t have one? How is a thirteen year old supposed to participate in the father-son day at school when he doesn’t have one? How is a seventeen year old supposed to feel when he sees everyone posting their dads on social media, a heartfelt message written with each one, yet he doesn’t even have a photograph to remember him by?

Tears fall on the paper and the hurt that he held back is now manifesting. Why was so hard for you to say anything about him? Was he dead? Is that why it was so hard? Yet, there was no excuse. Whatever it was, he needed to know why he left. Why he was so sorry. It wasn’t until he heard the front door open, your calming voice calling out to him.

“Megs, I’m home!” You shut the door, placing your bag on the countertop.

The door to his bedroom swung open, fresh tears still on his cheeks, the wrinkled note gripped in his hand. He stomped towards you. “What is this?” His nostrils flared.

A crease between your brows formed, noticing the distressed look on his face before your eyes landed on what he was holding. You felt your heart drop, your mouth falling open to say something, anything, but nothing came out. “Meg—”

“What is this? Huh?! I found it in the back of your drawer! A note from my dad!” He slammed the paper down. “Who is he?! Why did he leave?!” He was screaming, his anger pouring out through his words. “You never talk about him! No one does!” He throws his hands up. “You kept…you fucking kept this from me! Fifteen years!” Hot tears spill from his eyes.

Your eyes widen, your lip quivering as you hold back tears. “I’m sorry.” Your voice breaks. “I’ve been wanting to tell you—”

“When? When, mom?! I don’t even know his fucking name! I don’t know what he looks like! There’s not a single picture in this house of him? Is he even alive?!” The look in his eyes makes you want to break down. You knew this day would come sooner or later, but you never expected it to turn out this way. The note. Of course it was the note. Almost like it was fate.

You inhaled deeply, licking your lips as tears fall. “I’m sorry, baby. I just…”

“Why can’t you tell me?” He speaks softly, voice wavering. “I see it in your face. Everyday when you look at me…you can see him. Who is my dad?” He clenches his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. “Why did he leave us? Why did he leave me?” He questions before fully breaking down into tears, sobbing.

“No,no,” you whisper, taking him in your arms. His tears soak through the fabric of your shirt, clinging onto you like his life depends on it. “It’s not your fault, baby? You hear me? It’s not his, not yours. It’s complicated.” As you stand there with him in your arms, flashbacks of that night Toji left flood your brain.

“Then where is he? Is he dead?” Megumi asks, raising his head to look at you. The question makes you freeze up, biting on your bottom lip so hard you’re sure to draw blood. “Is he dead, mom?” He stands up straight, wiping his tears.

“I…I don’t know,” you sniffle, shrugging your shoulders. You shake your head as you look at your son, feeling so ashamed and embarrassed. So hurt and disgusted. “He loved you so much, Megumi. I promise you.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If he loved me, he wouldn’t have left!” He shouted in anger. “Who is he?! Just tell me!” He pleads through his cries.

“His name was Toji. Toji Fushiguro.” You stare at him. “Me and your father met young, back in high school. We had you two years after we graduated. We were so scared. Well, I was scared, but your father was ready. He was so excited,” you chuckle, remembering when you first told him you were pregnant. “He loved you, Megumi. And that’s the exact reason why he left,” you explain.

He shakes his head at you. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Your father did everything he could to provide for me and you. You were his everything. His little man. But, he got caught up with the wrong people trying to find ways to make quick money. He was young and desperate, we both were.” Your eyes flutter shut, letting out a sigh. “What your father did for money…you wouldn’t think he was a good man. He made enemies—”

“Mom, what are you saying?! I’m not a kid anymore! Just tell me—”

“He killed people, Megumi! Is that what you wanna hear! He fucking killed people just so he could put food on the table! Fuck!” You hurriedly stand to your feet, looking away from him.

“What…?” He nearly said in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to think he wasn’t a good man, Megs. I don’t want you think he hated you or me. He didn’t. But what he was doing put him and us in danger. He realized that and he left. He couldn’t put us in danger, especially you. That night he left he wrote you this.” You grabbed the note off the counter. “I begged him to stay, baby. I did. I tried. I tried everything.” Megumi sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly ahead of his as he took all this information in. “He never stopped loving you, Megs. He never wanted to leave.”

He slowly turned to look at you, his chest heaving up and down. His eyes were red and glossy from crying. “Where’d he go?”

“I don’t know, baby. He never told me.” You shook your head. He sobbed softly, holding his head in his hands. You walked over, sitting beside him and pulled him into your arms. “Don’t hate him,” you whispered. “He’d be so proud of the man you became. Such a sweet, strong, and smart boy.”

“When did he leave?” Megumi asked.

“A week after your second birthday,” you spoke, biting at the skin on your lip. “He told me you were the best thing to ever happen to him.” You wipe away his tears as they continue to fall. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just done bad things.”

Now knowing what happened to his father, Megumi felt like his whole world came crashing down. What his father did, who he was. How he came to be. And as much resentment as he holds, he can’t bring himself to hate him. In a way, he understands, but at the same time he doesn’t. He wonders how different things would be if he was here. What life would be Ike. “I’m sorry, mom,” he cried.

“Don’t be, baby. I’m sorry for keeping from you for so long. I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want you to think he was a bad man. I was scared.” You continue to hold him in your arms, consoling him.

“What does he look like?” He asks.

You smile, looking down at him. “You guys are damn near twins.”

Megumi chuckles a little, “I figured.”

“Wait there a moment.” He watches as slip into your bedroom, a few second passing by before you walk out with something in your hands. “Here.”

Megumi looks down, seeing the array of photos you hold on your hands and hesitates on taking them from you. You sit beside him as he grabs them and looks at the first one. “Is that him and you?” He asks, never taking his eyes off the photo.

“Back in high school.” It was one of the first few photos you and Toji ever took together. A picture at the homecoming dance, a plain look on his face while you had a wide smile on your face. “Your father barely ever smiled. But when you came around, he couldn’t stop.”

Megumi was struck. He really did look like him. From the hair, to the eyes, to the nose. Everything. He looked at the next photo. You were pregnant, Toji holding your belly while kissing your cheek. “You guys looked really happy,” he says.

“Of course we were. Me and your dad loved each other very much. I still love him.” Megumi looks over at you as you say those last words. You still hold so much hope and love in your heart and that tells him maybe he should let this resentment for his father go. Maybe it was time to move on.

“Was this my birthday?” He questions, looking at the family photo your mother took of you three that day. He could see a faint smile on his father’s face, looking at the way Toji held him so close in his arms.

“Your very first birthday. So many good memories. Despite the fact you threw up on your dad’s shirt,” you laughed.

“Really?!” Megumi smiles. You nod, still giggling. “Yikes, he must’ve been pissed.”

“At first he was mad, but then saw you started crying after and felt horrible. I remember his exact words, ‘Stop crying, little man. You can throw up on this shirt a thousand times if you want to.’ He could never stay mad at you.” You brush his cheek, watching his smile get wider and wider.

He finally gets to the last picture. One you took of Toji asleep with Megumi on his chest. “I took that picture after it took him three hours to get you to sleep. You didn’t want to sleep in your crib, kept crying and crying and finally your father just fell asleep with you on his chest.” You watch as he runs his thumb over the picture, observing it more than he did the other ones. “You can keep it if you want.”

“Really?” He glanced at you, a desperate look in his eye.

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek. “I have more we can look at later.”

Megumi nods. There’s a moment of silence as he sits and goes through the pictures again, almost like he’s reliving memories he had no recollection of. “So, you really don’t know if he’s alive or not?”

You shake your head. “Like I said, what your father did caused him to get caught up with the wrong people, making enemies out of anyone. He was never scared of them, of course. But he knew if they ever found out about you or me, it wouldn’t end well.,” you explained. “I wish I knew.”

“Is it weird that I miss him?” He turned towards you, confused. “How can I miss someone I don’t even remember?” His eyes became teary.

“Oh, Megs.” You wiped his tears. “It’s not weird at all, sweetheart. I’m sure he misses you too. A whole lot.” You give him a sad smile.

He sniffles, looking down at the pictures. It was like he finally felt this weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. After years of this gut wrenching feeling, he finally knows the truth. His father did love you. Love him. He no longer felt casted aside. And that feeling gave him hope that maybe he’s still out there, still alive.

part 2

[missarchive]

captured in quiet glances

spencer reid

cw; making out in the bullpen, slightly cocky spencer, flirting, nervous!reader, GLASSES GLASSES GLASSES (cause they need a warning of their own), cockblocking in the workplace

an; based on an ask i received a little while ago but accidentally deleted, my sincere apologies, sweet anon, i hope you enjoy!

wc; around 3k

Spencer Reid.

The very same name had rolled off your tongue in whispered prayer late in the night more times than you could count. When you could finally enjoy solitude, away from prying eyes, away from the people who knew what you were thinking before you even did. Your attraction to Spencer was no secret—how could it be?

Not when your gaze lingered on him far too long, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw, the delicate arch of his brow, or the way his hands moved when he spoke, gesturing with an awkward yet endearing intensity.

Not when your heart skipped a beat every time he laughed at something you said, even if it was something ridiculous. And certainly not when your stomach fluttered with reckless abandon whenever his eyes locked onto yours, as if you were part of the mystery he was trying to solve.

But today was different.

You hadn’t expected to find him in the bullpen this morning looking like that.

The moment you stepped through the doors, your feet faltered, your bag sliding precariously down your shoulder as your brain scrambled to catch up with the vision before you. Spencer Reid. In glasses.

Not the kind of glasses someone wears begrudgingly, as a last resort after losing a contact. No, these were intentional. Framed to perfection, resting effortlessly on the bridge of his nose, accentuating the sharpness of his features in a way that sent your thoughts spiralling.

The lenses framed his cautious brown doe-eyes, once soft and inquisitive, now sharp and calculated, as though seeing the world through a new, refined lens. They gave him an air of confidence, something you might mistake for cockiness in anyone else. But with Spencer, it was different.

You knew his ego when it came to his intelligence—how could he not have one? Years of being underestimated, of facing disbelief instead of encouragement, had built him into a man who wielded his knowledge like armour.

He wasn’t the same awkward boy genius anymore. Today, standing there in his crisp shirt and fitted vest, pushing those damned glasses up the bridge of his nose with a casual flick of his fingers—he was something else entirely.

He was devastating.

"Y/N?"

His voice shattered the daze you had fallen into, and you blinked rapidly, realizing you had been staring. Heat flooded your cheeks as your grip tightened on your bag, your mind scrambling for an escape.

"Morning, Spencer," you managed, forcing a smile that you hoped masked the chaos inside you.

His lips quirked into a polite smile, his eyes scanning your face in that way that made your skin prickle. He adjusted his glasses again, and you had to fight the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to reach out and do it for him.

Focus, Y/N.

You dropped your bag onto your desk with a little too much enthusiasm, papers shuffling under your fumbling hands. Anything to keep yourself busy. Anything to stop thinking about how ridiculously attractive he looked today. Because if you let yourself dwell on it too long, you'd be doomed.

"Everything okay?"

His voice was closer now, and when you glanced up, he was standing right beside your desk, those sharp, knowing eyes analyzing you with quiet intensity. You swallowed hard, forcing a casual shrug.

"Yeah," you croaked, clearing your throat. "Just didn’t get much sleep last night."

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, his expression softening. "If you need caffeine, I just brewed a fresh pot in the break room."

You nodded, your voice coming out higher than intended. "Thanks, Reid."

As he walked away, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Spencer Reid in glasses was going to be the death of you.

The morning passed in a blur of stolen glances and clumsy keystrokes, each one more humiliating than the last. You were convinced you'd managed to play it cool—until you heard your name.

"Y/N."

Your head snapped up, eyes widening as Spencer stood beside your desk again, arms crossed over his chest. He had that look—the one that said he had already unraveled the entire situation in his head and was just waiting for you to confirm it.

"You’ve been acting... different today," he observed, tilting his head slightly.

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "Different? How?"

You aimed for nonchalance, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Spencer's lips twitched in amusement. "For one, your typing speed has decreased by approximately thirty percent. You’ve corrected yourself five times in the last hour, and you haven’t made eye contact with me for more than two seconds at a time. Normally, you maintain it for an average of 6.4 seconds."

Damn it. Why did he have to be so perceptive?

You shifted in your seat, waving a dismissive hand. "Maybe I’m just tired."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Or maybe..." He leaned in, his voice dropping slightly, "it has something to do with the fact that you've been staring at my glasses all day."

Your stomach plummeted, and heat rushed to your face. He knew. Of course he knew.

"I—" you began, scrambling for an excuse, but his soft chuckle cut you off.

“It’s okay,” he said, his voice lower now, almost teasing. “I noticed the way your pupils dilated when you first saw me this morning. It’s a physiological response to attraction.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Oh my God, Spencer.”

His chuckle deepened, and when you peeked through your fingers, he was smiling—genuine and warm, with a hint of something else beneath it. Something smug.

“So,” he prompted, watching you carefully, “you think I look good in glasses?”

You let out a nervous laugh, finally dropping your hands. “Okay, fine. Yes, Reid. You look… good in glasses. Happy now?”

His eyes sparkled behind the lenses, and he nodded thoughtfully, fiddling with the leather strap on his messenger bag.

You felt the blush creep back up your neck as you realised where the conversation was headed. “Spencer Reid,” you said, trying to sound chastising. “Are you propositioning me?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Is it that obvious?”

“Yes,” you said bluntly, trying not to let your tone betray the excitement that was building inside you.

Spencer was quiet for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Is that… okay?” he murmured, leaning in even closer, until his face was only inches from yours.

You bit your lip, your heart pounding in your ears. You shook your head, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself. “Yes, yeah- more than okay...”

Spencer’s lips parted, a soft huff of air escaping him. His fingers curled over the edge of your desk, gripping it like he needed the support to stay standing. He looked at you with those sharp, calculating eyes, but something had changed. His gaze had softened. It wasn’t as intense as it had been before.

 It felt more like he was watching you—really watching you. Like he was taking in every little detail. The way your hair curled slightly at the nape of your neck, the soft pink hue of your lips, the shape of your eyes.

He leaned in even closer, his breath ghosting over your skin as he spoke. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?”

A shiver ran down your spine, and you swallowed hard. “How long?”

Spencer’s thumb rubbed against the edge of your desk in a soothing motion, his eyes still locked on yours. “As soon as you joined the team,” he said, and even though his voice was steady, his words were laced with a vulnerability that made your chest ache. “You walked in, and everything changed for me.”

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of your ribcage. Spencer Reid had been attracted to you since day one? You felt his fingers brush against your hand, tentative as they intertwined with yours. Your palm tingled at the touch, and you looked down, watching as he threaded his fingers through yours.

Spencer’s eyes followed your gaze, lingering on the sight of your joined hands before flicking back up to your face. His fingers tightened around yours, his mouth opening to speak. “Do you still want this?” he asked, and it was different from the earlier question.

This time, there was no teasing in his voice, no confidence. He looked nervous. Anxious. Vulnerable. He looked like a man who had spent years wondering if he had a chance. A man who couldn’t believe he might finally get it.

And that—that was all it took. That was all you needed to see in him. You reached up, running your palm over his cheek and threading your fingers through his hair. You looked him straight in the eye. “I do,” you whispered, and his eyes fluttered closed at the words. His body seemed to sag against yours, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for the response.

When his eyes opened again, they weren’t shy anymore. They were sharp, burning with an intensity that stole the air from your lungs.

He leaned in close, his lips brushing against yours, feather light. Your breath hitched, and his tongue slid out, tracing over your bottom lip. He tugged at your lower lip, pulling it between his teeth to nibble. You gasped, his mouth swallowing the sound. Your hands slid up to his shoulders, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as he deepened the kiss.

He tasted like mint and chocolate, like your favourite kind of candy. His lips were softer than you imagined, his tongue hot and slick as it tangled with yours. You let out a moan, and Spencer’s grip on your waist tightened.

He pulled you closer, his hips shifting against yours, and that was all it took for your entire body to tense up. The feeling of his erection against you was enough to send your pulse into overdrive.

You wanted him. Needed him. So, so badly.

When he pulled away, your lips were swollen, and you felt like you might come right then and there. Your entire body was burning with need, tingling with arousal. “Spencer,” you gasped, clutching at his shirt. You tugged him closer, your mouth seeking his again. His hands tightened on your waist, and he groaned into your mouth, kissing you harder.

This wasn’t a gentle kiss. This wasn’t the sweet, tender moment you’d been imagining. This was desperate and needy, like he couldn’t get enough of you.

And you felt the same.

But a sound tore through the bullpen, snapping both of you back to reality.

The break room door had swung open. You heard the clatter of mugs on the counter as someone went for coffee. Spencer’s head snapped back, and he cursed under his breath.

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling away. He stared at you, his chest rising and falling quickly, like he was struggling to catch his breath.  He ran a hand over his mouth, looking more than a little dazed.

You couldn’t blame him. You felt like you’d just been hit by a freight train.

“We’re still at work,” he whispered, his voice thick. He glanced at the break room, then back to you. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, running your fingers through your hair. “It’s okay,” you said, forcing a laugh. “I think it’s been a while since anyone’s gotten action at the office.”

Spencer’s brows arched, and a laugh escaped him. It sounded more like a cough at first, but then grew louder, until he was grinning. You smiled back at him, and for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered.

As Spencer’s laugh faded, a comfortable silence lingered between you, but the tension was still palpable, buzzing in the air like static electricity. His hand lingered on the edge of your desk, fingers drumming softly as if he were debating what to say next.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen like this,” he admitted, his voice softer now, carrying a note of vulnerability that made your heart ache. “But... I’m not sorry it did.”

Your lips parted in surprise, your chest tightening at his words. You swallowed hard, gathering enough courage to answer. “Me neither.”

Spencer’s gaze softened further, the intensity in his eyes replaced by something warmer, more earnest. He hesitated, glancing toward the bullpen as if checking to see if anyone else might appear. When he was satisfied you were still alone, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

“What do we do now?”

The question hung in the air between you, weighty and full of possibilities. You felt your pulse quicken, the reality of the situation crashing over you like a wave.

You smiled nervously, shifting in your seat. “Well, for starters, we don’t get caught making out in the middle of the office.”

Spencer chuckled softly, his lips curving into that shy, boyish smile you’d always found so endearing. “Good point.” He straightened up slightly, adjusting his glasses—a gesture that was quickly becoming your undoing. “But after that…?”

You hesitated, biting your lip. This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you’d planned for when you woke up this morning. But as you looked up at him, at the way he stood there watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flutter, you realized you didn’t want to let this moment slip away.

“Dinner,” you said, surprising even yourself. “Tonight. My place.”

Spencer’s brows lifted, and for a brief moment, you worried you’d been too forward. But then his expression softened again, and he nodded. “I’d like that,” he said simply.

Relief flooded through you, and you found yourself smiling despite the lingering nerves. “Good. Then it’s a date.”

Before he could respond, the sound of approaching footsteps snapped both of you back to reality. Spencer stepped back quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his tie as if nothing had happened. You grabbed a random file off your desk, pretending to review it with far more interest than necessary.

“Reid! Y/N!” Emily’s voice rang out as she approached, a cup of coffee in hand. “Hotch wants us in the conference room. New case.”

You both nodded, mumbling acknowledgments as Emily disappeared down the hall. When you glanced at Spencer, you found him already looking at you, a small, private smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Tonight,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear before turning and heading toward the conference room.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Tonight. The word echoed in your mind, full of promise and anticipation.

[bunny-jpeg]

sibling situation

simon 'ghost' riley

cw: smut & plot, mactavish!reader, size kink/difference, missionary sex, unprotected sex, marriage & babies (at the end), romance, simon's found family

this rabbit runs on reblogs & comments! feed the rabbit!

simon knew that johnny had a sister. you had been brought up in conversation tons of times. after the death of your parents, you and johnny were really all each other had. but johnny left for the military right before turning eighteen and you struggled to put yourself through university. it wasn't the easiest life and simon could understand, he had his own scars of his childhood.

"so, why are you dragging me out here again, johnny?"

"get ya out of that shoe box flat. got a little more leg room where i am."

johnny had driven the car all the way to edinburgh with a promise that a little time away would do wonders for the other man. simon had his ear talked off about how london was just too big, and while edinburgh was a city. it would be a break from the intense metropolitan of london. if need be the two of them and you could go on a getaway to the countryside.

"this better be good, johnny."

"ah, don't worry! i promise, you'll have the time of your life!" johnny reached over and slapped his friend on the back, "plus, you have to meet my sister."

the flat that you shared with johnny was well kept. of course it was, your brother was out most of the year with an automatic deposit for rent and when he was home, it was so ingrained with the military that things were kept tidy. and you on the other hand enjoyed tidiness as well.

even if cleaning the place in his absence felt a bit much sometimes, you still at least picked up your socks off the floor, put the clean dishes in the cupboard and washed out the carafe of the coffee maker. but you had worked over time to make sure everything was perfect, not for your brother (he could clean himself), but rather the mysterious guest that he was bringing.

you didn't want his lieutenant to think you lived like animals!

when the knock on the front door came, you happily welcomed them. your gaze was captured away from your grinning brother and rather the larger man beside him. he wore a black medical face mark, but you could see the tiredness in his eyes. the mop of blond hair and a slight scar over his eyebrow.

"oh, kid, this simon. simon riley, my lt." johnny smiled, patting his fellow solider on the arm.

you shot him a glance, "i'm almost thirty, johnny. i'm far from a kid." you were a bite fiery, simon liked that.

johnny beamed back at you, "but you'll always be my little sister. gotten into trouble while i was gone?"

you let both men in and replied, "well except for yelling at those stupid kids from the secondary school about smoking in front of my window. nothing else really happened."

johnny dropped his bags on the hardwood floor and kicked off his boots. he put them correctly by the door before he stretched his arms over his head, "where's that guy you were seein'. teddy or somethin'?"

simon stood a little straighter. of course you had a boyfriend, look at you!

you waved your hand, "oh, he's long gone. i guess cousin nikki's words are true." you looked at your brother, "never date a man in finance. turns out he had more than one bonnie in his pocket."

johnny dropped his shoulders and remarked, "never liked the guy anyway. seemed a little uptight, would never survive a gathering of the mactavish's." he laughed.

simon felt odd in the space. seeing the siblings interacting. he thought of his own brother for a moment. instead he just followed suit and took off his heavy boots as well.

you looked at simon, "i hope it's okay that you take the couch. this place is only two bedrooms. the couch." you gestured to it, "does pull out so hopefully you'll have enough room. but, if you don't, tomorrow my lovely brother can give up his room."

"my room!" johnny replied loudly, "i've still got sand in my crack for the mission and you're givin' my room!"

you shot your brother a glance which johnny coward from. no words had to be said. johnny knew that it would be the right thing to do. after all, simon was his guest.

the afternoon went by slowly, and you and johnny moved through the small kitchen like a team. johnny was good at dicing and you were good at keeping an eye on the sauteeing vegetables.

"simon." you said which made simon look up from his spot at the small dining table. your eyes met and you pushed some hair out of your face, "two things. one, there should be a headband on the table it's soft and used for make-up. i need to get this hair out of my eyes. secondly, johnny never said that you had any dietary issues. is there anything i should avoid? i just sort of got our normal grocery order."

simon perked a little bit more, "oh i don't have any allergies or anything, ma'am." he gave a small nod, "i could eat anythin'."

you nodded, "okay, excellent!"

the blond found in endearing. it was almost hypnotic watching you put together the vegetables with the hearty pasta sauce. you worked a stove top like no other. the only problem was that your brother kept getting in the way of his sight of you.

been a while since a woman cooked him a meal.

simon got up quickly and gave you the headband. it was soft and pink colour with two sewn on cat ears made of the same material. you put it on and simon's heart skipped a beat. you were just so beautiful.

dinner of pasta, toasted buns and salad were served with a bottle of grocery store wine. the three of you drank, ate and chatted. you and johnny had most of the conversation while simon enjoyed listening.

he figured out that he could listen to you talk forever.

"well, i'm tired." johnny said as he rubbed his eyes. he finished the rest of his wine before he got up. he patted you on the top of the head, "i'll do the dishes in the mornin'. thanks for dinner, kid."

you rolled your eyes, pouring yourself another glass, "i'm not a kid."

johnny chuckled then looked to simon, "she'll get ya comfortable for the evenin'. i'll see ya tomorrow." before his tired steps headed towards the bedroom. soon the door closed and the sound of his body hitting the bed could be softly heard.

you leaned back in the kitchen chair, one leg draped over the other with your arms crossed. you admitted, "it must be hard to date. finding someone who understands your world."

simon stretched out a little more in his chair. he eyed the empty wine glass in front of him, "i try not to think about it so hard."

"i've heard stories about you. the terrifying ghost. there one moment, gone the next." you then reached across the table to drag a finger down the inside of simon's wrist, "i wonder if i had you in my bed tonight, if you'd be gone by morning."

your admission made simon's dark eyes grow a little wider. he said, "well, i have nowhere else to go."

you smiled a little, "must be lonely. i know it's lonely for me. to feel close to someone."

simon asked, "do you want to sleep with me miss mactavish?"

you chuckled lowly, as to not awake your brother in his room. you leaned back a little once more and gazed at him. you were definitely johnny's brother. the look in your eye said it all. you tilted your head a little to the side and asked, "is it that obvious, mister riley?"

the sound of wooden chairs against the floor as the two of you made your way to the bedroom. you took simon by his tattooed wrist and got him into your room. the door was shut a little louder than you hoped. you turned on the light and simon was already working the belt of his jeans.

you were quick to get your t-shirt off and you saw simon's hungry gaze on you as you became free of your clothes. his eyes raked the exposed skin and thought you looked like a dream.

"like what you see, simon?"

he nodded, "more beautiful than the photos, ma'am."

you covered your mouth while you giggled, "no need for the formalities. if my brother is underranked by you, then i'm sure as hell as a civilian."

simon got a hold of your waist, "you deserve a little more respect than your brother." then pulled you in for a soft kiss. even with his scars that you had seen over dinner. you thought he was beautiful.

it made you warm all over as you pulled the dark t-shirt on his shoulders. he helped you get out of it. and your hands pressed against his chest. you admired the scars, the tattoos, the overall beauty of him.

"i wish my brother had said his lt was hot prior. i would've tried to get with you sooner."

simon picked you up by the waist, your legs wrapped around his waist as he brought you to the bed and sat you down. he then started to work at the button of your jeans. once they were off, he cupped the bulge in his pants.

you slipped out of your simple purple panties and the white bra you wore. you then laid out on your bed with your hands behind your head and you giggled softly.

simon was absolutely smitten by you. he had come to the conclusion that when they were talking about the beauties in scotland. they meant you. and only you. once you were both naked, he got onto the bed.

the bed was a bit smaller than he had hoped, but you two could fit into it thankfully. he was worried that his large, bulkier frame would inch you off of the mattress. but it was a lot easier when he got between your legs. his achy erection, bright red at the tip, begged for attention.

you swallowed a little, "i wonder if it'll fit."

"then you tell me if it does. got it? you mactavish's have a habit of not showing pain." simon gave you a pointed gaze.

you covered your face for a minute, "okay. talk about my brother ends here. i don't want to hear about him while you're balls deep inside of me."

simon chuckled lightly and leaned in for another kiss. he said softly, close to your lips, "if it's anything, love. you're much more a looker than he is."

you held onto his blond locks and pulled him in for a hot kiss. you made a small noise when he shifted your hips up against him. to get a better angle of his cock inside of you.

"simon."

he said softly, his voice still gravely, "beautiful, beautiful girl. i don't know what that last boyfriend of yours was thinkin'. why want another when he could have you. but, i guess that means more for me."

your cheeks grew hot and simon pressed his cock up against you wet slit. you felt your heartbeat race at the anticipation of what was to come. you tensed up at the feeling of his cock being pushed into it.

"i got ya, i got ya. you feel so good there, love."

you nodded, "it's been a while. sorry if i'm too.. tight."

simon loomed over you like a comforting shadow. he gazed down at you, but there was a softness to his tired eyes. you didn't realize how pretty his eyes were. a deep dark brown, that lured you in while in the soft lighting of your bedroom.

he started to move against you and you let out a small moan. the bed squeaked a little bit. thankfully the frame didn't hit the wall. you two had to be somewhat quiet. even if your brother could be heard snoring in the room next to yours.

the sex between you two was quick, but not rough. the idea of bruising such a beauty made simon feel disgusted. you were meant to be cherished. he wanted to know everything about you.

"you are quite handsome, simon."

"thank you, love." he said softly as he held onto your thighs and moved against you. even in missionary you looked beautiful. the slight bounce of your breasts in time with his movements. he wanted to kiss all your soft parts throughout his visit in your sweet home.

he could get used to a warm meal and a warm cunt to bury himself into every night. maybe johnny was right, staying with you was better than being in london.

maybe he could get used to scotland.

he knew he could fit easily into the chaos of the mactavish family. if he could handle johnny, then he could handle you. at least he could fuck one of you quiet.

you felt your heart hammering at the feeling of it all. your noises were so sweet that it made simon need to bury himself deeper inside of you. he needed to feel all you could offer.

call him a sick puppy, but his brain was now wired to need you. you were a hit of a feeling that simon was so painfully unfamiliar with that it almost scared him. but as he admired the sight of you under him.

those soft lips partially opened, your eyes closed. you looked like an angel, and he swore he found heaven.

"beautiful." he said softly, his rugged voice made you feel like honey. gooey and warm, filling.

you came with your hands in his shaggy blond hair. your back arched as you felt the heat through you. you moaned a little louder than you hoped for as he continued to thrust up into you.

panting breaths between heavy thrusts as you laid spread out on the bed, letting simon move quicken his pace to reach his climax. he could feel it on the tip of his tongue. and with a few more heavy thrusts, he finished inside of you. his cheeks flushed and his mouth hung open in a heavy pant.

"fuck, simon."

"beautiful." he said absently. not able to think of much else besides your beauty. you were the kind of woman that simon was into.

he pulled out of you and rested down beside you on bed. you chuckled softly, your head still a little full of post orgasmic bliss. you got the covers on top of you and cuddled him naked.

clothed would be a worry in the morning.

when morning came, simon tried to slink back to the couch before johnny woke up. but when he exited your room and entered the main living space. he found johnny sitting there at the kitchen table. he was leaned back into his seat. simon caught sight of the pistol on the worn wooden table.

"so, si." johnny said, looking away from his paper to look at his fellow solider, "what are yer intentions with my sister?"

it had been a very long time since simon felt the stone of dread in his stomach. he tried not to show it across his scarred face. simon could instantly recall every military statistic that johnny had. there could be a million and one ways that the scottish solider could kill simon. and it wasn't like simon could do anything, he couldn't kill your brother.

there was a brief moment of silence between the two of them. neither made a motion or noise. simon wondered what was to come next. no amount of training could've prepared him for this.

but johnny broke the silence with laughter, "i'm just messin' with ya! the gun's not even loaded. just wanted to scare ya." he leaned forward in his seat. he looked at simon, "i don't care how my sister sees, but i have to be a little bit intimidating, don't ya think so, si?"

simon chuckled nervously.

johnny's suddenly expression dropped and he put down his paper in favour of the unloaded pistol. he pointed the front of it to simon, one eye closed as if he was going to shoot the blond in front of him. he said, "but if you break her heart there, simon. i won't be so forgiving."

the doorway to your bedroom opened with a loud creak and your voice rang through the apartment the three of you were in, "I swear to god! john michael mactavish! you better not be intimidating him!"

-

"you're seriously crying?" you asked your brother as you watched him gently take a hold of your newborn. your brother was a military man for christ's sake. he was weeping like a baby.

simon loomed over his colleague, protective over his newborn. his stern brown gaze read simply, "don't fuck it up, soap." he was ready to jump in if johnny fucked it up.

you were resting back in the hospital room, you just had your child with simon. you two had been married for a little over three years. it became habit for simon to come with johnny post-missions. the drive up to the city and you waiting for them.

a hug for your brother, a kiss for your lover.

now you were watching your brother cry at the sight of his nephew. the chubby little boy bundled up in a blanket. unaware of his weepy uncle. you looked at him with a slightyl stunned expression.

you probably cried less when you finally pushed him out. you didn't want to tell him the news because you thought he was going to cry more. while your son's first name was oliver, his middle name was john. after the crying mactavish in the hospital room.

"he really takes after us." john remarked when his cries died down.

you chuckled, "he sure does, johnny. now hand him over before you drop him." <3

[retrosabers]

𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐝.

FICMAS DAY 5 - UNWRAPPING

A RETROSABERS X PANDAPETALS DOUBLE FEATURE

old man logan x fem!reader

summary: logan didn’t believe in exchanging christmas presents. so, you offer him something you know he can’t refuse. a night where’s he’s free to have you all to himself.

contains: 18+ content below the cut. MINORS DNI. making out, some dry humping if you squint, oral (fem receiving), implied age gap, a dash of angst, swearing

word count: 2.6k

a/n: you thought i’d let a whole season pass without a little taste of some festive smut? absolutely hilarious. this is my first time writing for old man logan, and i think i did pretty alright considering i have yet to watch the movie (i’m terrified of the pain it will bring)

any feedback is always greatly appreciated!

also, don’t be confused by the fact that this says day 5 when i still haven’t posted day 4, i’m writing these bad boys out of order

and finally, a huge shoutout & thanks to the wildly talented @pandapetals for agreeing to do a little collaboration! please go check out her blog and all of her amazing work! <3

FIND HER PART HERE

!! divider by @estrelinha-s !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

“are you sure your eyes are closed?”

logan grunts. “they’re closed, darlin’. promise.”

he’s been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes now, waiting for you to bring out this so-called “surprise.” from the ambient lighting and freshly washed bed sheets, the man thinks he’s got a general idea of what it is, but you’ve been fiddling in the bathroom too long for him to be certain.

still, he appeases you, and waits patiently at the foot of your bed. even if it’s a little bit uncomfortable on his knees.

meanwhile you’re fussing over every little detail of your appearance in the groggy bathroom mirror.

this was your solution to getting around logan’s “i don’t need anything for christmas” rule. you always begrudgingly abided by it, save for the box of cigars that always mysteriously turnt up in his nightstand on christmas eve. you knew he could never turn it down, no matter how much he tried.

logan could never say no to a smoke break with a nice pack of cubans. and he most certainly couldn’t say no to you.

that's how you decided upon this whole scheme. dolling yourself up and donning a new set of lingerie themed to the occasion, knowing logan had no leg to stand on. because technically, you didn’t buy anything for him. you bought this for you. he just so happened to be the person who was going to help take it off.

or rip it off, knowing your man’s track record of impatience and eagerness.

you share the exact same sentiment, though your tendency to be anile overpowers all else. you know it doesn’t matter if you have a hair or two out of place, or if your lips are slightly over lined. perfection never mattered to logan, but it still didn’t stop you from doing everything in your power to be pretty damn close to it tonight.

even if it meant making him wait a few extra minutes.

you pay your reflection one final glance before sauntering out into the bedroom.

he smells you before he hears you.

your scent wafting into the room captures his attention more than anything else. logan’s senses may not be as keen as they once were, but the fragrance of you was something utterly unmistakable. a sweet yet sultry aroma that he ached to have on his skin, his clothes, anywhere, to keep him grounded. to remind himself that you were real and you were his. it only adds to the anticipation building inside, the mere seconds he has to wait dragging on like hours in his mind.

a wave of lust overtakes you as logan comes into view. somehow just the sight of him is enough to send a bout of arousal down to your core.

that crisp white dress shirt he always wears is unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up to reveal those chiseled forearms you love to have wrapped around you. the soft glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the weathered curves of his face so beautifully. a contrast to the ruggedness of his position; legs lazily spread wide and long, thick fingers tapping mindlessly against his thigh.

the picture of a real man. and he’s all yours for the taking.

the sound of your footsteps padding against the floor grows louder. obediently, logan’s eyes stay shut, despite the fact that the other aroma you carry is hot and heavy in his nostrils. his upper lip twitches with a knowing smirk.

so this is exactly what he had in mind.

on instinct, his thighs spread even further when he senses your approach, hands itching to find their place on you somehow. when your own stay glued to your sides, he takes that as his cue to do the same.

logan really hates to admit it, but there’s something about this little bit of mystery that’s got him going before you’ve even begun.

“you ready?” your voice comes out breathy, and if logan didn’t know any better he’d think you’re nervous. and truth be told, you were. not that logan wouldn’t get his kicks, you were certain of that. more so that you’d be unable to walk come tomorrow morning.

though neither of you would consider it a bad thing

“yes ma’am,” he grumbles in response, knowing exactly the effect it has on you. the cockiness on his face is inevitable when he hears your breath hitch.

tease. if that’s how he wants to play, you’re in for a long night.

with a quiet sigh, you splay your fingers over the expanse of his broad shoulders. the man takes it as permission, calloused palms wrapping around your calves and not daring to travel any further. he knows he’ll lose any remaining self control if he gets so much as an inch closer to the apex of your thighs.

“okay.” you murmur. “you can open your eyes.”

slowly, those dark irises begin to drink you in. his grip on you tightens as soon as he gets the whole picture, a visible tent forming in his dress slacks almost immediately.

logan thought you were the most beautiful women he’s ever seen under any conditions. didn’t matter if you were sick, if you were bare faced, none of that changed how otherworldly you looked in his eyes. but nothing, and i mean nothing, compared to the sight of you before him right now.

you look like something out of a dream. hair styled in a way that drives him particularly crazy, makeup done to highlight your features so elegantly in the dim light. the best, and quite possibly logan’s favorite part, however, is that your lips are painted a shade of red to perfectly match the ensemble adorning your body. it sparks a slideshow of rather lewd images in his brain, wanting the color scattered across his cheek, his chest, his cock. anywhere you’re willing to brand him.

he’s committed every inch of you to memory by now. countless nights of exploring, mapping out your curves with hand and tongue. and still, everytime he sees you like this, practically offering yourself on a silver platter, he can’t help but stare back as though this is the very first time.

especially when that crimson silk is accentuating your figure so nicely.

“do you like it?” you ask coyly, bottom lip tucked between your teeth like you’re not fully aware of the power you have over him.

logan scoffs out a laugh, dragging his hands higher and higher until they tug at your hips, pulling you to straddle his lap in one swift motion. you squeak at the sudden display of strength, forgetting that despite his age, he was still infinitely stronger than any man you’ve ever met.

even beneath the layers of fabric between you, the sheer size of him was impossible to ignore. fuck, and he wasn’t even fully hard. you bite back a moan at the outline of his length pressed between your legs.

“that answer your question?” he quips back lowly, smirking smugly.

you hum in content, pressing your hands further into his shoulders as you experimentally grind your hips. the pair of you preen at the contact, desperate for any form of relief after being pent up and waiting.

“careful,” logan grits out in warning. “gonna cum in my pants like a fuckin’ teenager if you keep that up.”

you tsk in response, cocking your head with faux concern. “can’t have that, now can we?”

logan shakes his head at your antics, eyes wandering back over your body once more. before tonight, his favorite set of lingerie you owned was a black lacy number. simple and classic. but the more time he spends inspecting what’s currently adorning your frame, the more he thinks that red might be his new favorite color.

something warm spills over him when he glances at your chest again. something different than what he normally experiences every time he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, anyways.

“is that a bow?” he questions, a little bit amused.

you let out a soft giggle, nodding in reply.

“wanted you to be able to unwrap your present.”

you can count the amount of times logan has laughed, really truly laughed, on one hand. and as much as it sounds like music to your ears, you’re rather confused as to why he’s laughing right now.

“what’s so funny?” you huff, brows knit together and bottom lip jutted in a near pout.

logan averts your inquiry, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see him grinning like an idiot. instead, he busies himself with dragging his lips up and down the column of your throat, reveling in the breathy moans spilling from your lips with each and every press against your skin.

from the moment you met logan howlett, you fantasized about that salt and pepper beard. longed to feel the delicious sting of scruff against every part of you. as addicting as it is, the sensation isn’t enough to keep you completely distracted.

“logan,” you whine, titling your head back to grant him more access. “m’serious.”

he doesn’t halt his ministrations, too consumed with making sure your neck is painted every shade of lavender under the sun. he only stops when you rake your fingers in his hair and physically pull him off, much to both your dismays.

you give him a look. that pursed lips, narrow eyed “what aren’t you saying to me” look that signals he’s going to have to fess up to whatever’s on his mind, or else the evening would be coming to an end right here and now. from the way he’s about to burst through the zipper on his dress slacks, you know he’s not considering weighing options.

logan sighs heavily. if you didn’t know all the variations of the sound, you’d think he was upset with you. but that was far from how the older man felt. he begins to examine your face, observing everything from the slopes of your bone structure, to the color of your irises. he studies your features like an artisan in a gallery, content on not missing a single detail.

after a moment, the corners of his mouth turn up a hair. eyes almost dopey; filled with a lovesickness he never thought could be possible.

“you’re somethin’ else, y’know that?” he murmurs into the air, rough fingertips tracing back and forth across your spine.

you speak the language of logan fluently, knowing exactly what the underlying message of his words were. in reality, he was saying, “what did i do in this life to deserve you? will you ever know how much i love you? i hope you’ll be mine for as long as you’ll have me.”

suddenly his round of laughter from before rings brighter in your ears.

instead of saying another word, you guide his face to yours, connecting your lips in a silent understanding.

logan always kisses you like a man starved, devouring you whole as though every kiss may be the last. there was nothing tame, or tender about the man they once called the wolverine, but you managed to slip between the cracks of his stony disposition, and bring forth all the parts of himself he swore he lost decades ago.

your hands encircle around the back of his neck, logan’s squeezing at the flesh of your hips. he pulls you impossibly closer, pressing the swell of your chest against his own. the feeling of your nipples pebbling through velvet fabric reminds him of the true nature of your current situation.

tonight was for him. his pleasure, his enjoyment. he knew you’d be heavily dissatisfied if he didn’t indulge in what you were offering.

and what kind of man would logan be, if he disappointed his sweet girl?

you’re not expecting him to be so gentle when he turns and flips you over, mouth never once leaving yours. a large hand spread across your back as he lowers you down onto the mattress with a care reserved for you and only you. a fact that adds to your current state of arousal. your legs open like second nature, and logan slots himself between them as though that’s where he was always meant to be.

the whine that leaves you when he pulls away would be embarrassing if it weren’t for the hunger in his stare. those normally hazel pupils now a brownish black that overshadowed bright white. he sits back on his haunches, glazing over your pretty little lingerie with a newfound appreciation.

he reaches to toy with the end of the bow tied snugly between your breasts, a teasing invitation that he graciously accepts.

at a tantalizing pace, he begins to unwrap his present, watching with lustful eyes as more and more skin becomes exposed. you arch your back the slightest bit to get the job done faster, the shoe of impatience now snug on your foot instead of his.

normally, logan would scold, spit something about “being a good girl and waiting.” but he’s just as riled up and eager as you are, and he gives the velvet one final tug that has your breasts springing free.

god you were absolute perfection.

he can’t resist running a thumb over your erect nipples, reveling in the way you squirm over such a small touch. your color coated lips swollen and shiny from his kisses. body already relaxed and pliant, willing to do whatever he so pleases.

a few minutes ago, he would’ve torn your outfit off without second thought and shown no mercy. let the shitty week he was having take control, guide him through the motions of achieving pleasure. but something inside logan urges him to be a little sentimental; take his sweet time on the off chance that he wakes up and discovers this was all a dream.

so he decides that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

the path down to your core was a familiar one, a route he knew like the back of his hand. sloppy, wet kisses trail down your stomach, a small crack in logan’s otherwise composed exterior. by the time he reaches the hem of your panties, tongue teasing beneath the waistband, you’re bursting at the seams with desire, unable to stop yourself from whimpering and bucking your hips upward.

“i gotcha honey,” he whispers against the inside of your thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. “m’gonna take real good care of ya.”

logan knew you were soaked the second you walked into the room. didn’t need to see or feel it to know. still, he indulges his ego and stares proudly at the dark patch in the center of your underwear. knowing it was all his doing, that he was the only one who could get you like this.

when he pulls the fabric to the side and is met with your glistening folds, he can’t help the groan that rumbles in his chest.

“merry fuckin’ christmas to me,” he all but growls before diving right in.

it’s in moments like these where he wishes that photographic memory was his mutation, though he doubts he’ll ever forget this. his perfect girl, laid out so delicately beneath him, basking in the pale moonlight that seeped in between the curtains. his own personal utopia, paradise within the four walls of this rickety building you called home.

logan wonders if maybe he’s finally succumbed to the poison in his bones. because this sure does feel like heaven.

at the very least, it most definitely feels like christmas.

because having the privilege of watching you come undone was the gift that kept on giving all year round.

thanks for reading! <3

taglist: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals @hextech-bros

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[simmir99]

✨Sims grab your best fashion and your date because it's time for The Met Gala! 📍The Met Gala - The Metropolitan Museum of Art ✨ *FREE for Download - Details Below! (Only 40x30 lot size)

This museum was designed for the gala, with 3 STUNNING Art Exhibits, a Reception Room, Full Bar and of course the Red Carpet for your Sim's FLAWLESS photo! *After the Gala, convert the reception room into an Art & Pottery room, perfect for the NEW Business & Hobbies EP **All signs by have 2 versions (English and Simlish)! [Recolors by me 😉]

The Art Exhibits Illusions of Love - Inspired by a new event in Las Vegas held in complete candlelight, I created this exhibit especially for The Met featuring my new cc collection, which can be found HERE. This exhibit captures love, romance and even heartbreak. PERFECT for Date Night ❤️‍🔥

Dark Academia - Highlighting dark aesthetics and a mysterious sultry vibe. Featuring the INCREDIBE CC by @sims4luxury and @sooky88 🔥

Cultural Celebrations - Featuring the AMAZING art by @simminmybestlife and @rhiannonar-sims that both capture the cultures beautifully💜.

Lot Size: 40X30 CC Size (*see below): 1.14 GB Packs Used: Get to Work, Get Together, Get Famous, High School, Lovestruck, My Wedding Stories and Dine Out. *Used but non-essential: Spa Day, Moschino, Romantic Garden, and Everyday Clutter.

*CC load will be VERY light if you have Felixandre's Chateau, Estate, Berlin, Florence, SOHO and Felix/Harrie's Livin' Room collection. *I highly recommend downloading Sims4Luxury and PlantinumLuxeSims CC as it truly plays a BIG part in this build. All files have been unmerged to ensure no duplicates in your mods folder but please double check if you have the merged packages for these collections.

FREE for download on my Patreon HERE

*Please tag me as I would LOVE to see your sims at The Met

HUGE THANK YOU to the amazing CC creators @felixandresims, @syboubou, @sims4customcontent, @sims4luxury, @sooky88, @simminmybestlife, @rhiannonar-sims, PlatinumLuxeSims and MANY others!!

[lovesickpvppy]

SHE DO PORN FOR ME. . .

— you and toji need a bit more money and he knows the perfect way to get it —

warnings: reader and toji make corn, fingering, daddy kink, a touch of spit !

notes: lmk if u want part two !!

𝜗𝜚 - you and toji needed some money. no you weren’t broke, but you needed some extra cash! so when toji approached you with the idea of starting a twitter account, you grab your phone and immediately opened the app going to make a new account

𝜗𝜚 - you choose a user that fit the both of you, you customize the page, making it all pink and white. toji hates it but he doesn’t want to upset you so he doesn’t say anything about it! you spend hours learning about camera angles and sound quality

𝜗𝜚 - the night you plan to record ur first video toji just pulls out his phone and a lil stand.

“are you kidding me?” you look at toji

“what?” he deadpans

𝜗𝜚 - you just run with it. you get on the bed, laying down on top of him and spreading your legs, most of the lights are out, just pink led lights illuminating the room, you can barely see each other but that leaves more mystery for others

𝜗𝜚 - toji starts to slip down your shorts, the camera capturing everything. you whine as you feel his fingers tease ur cunt through your panties. “pleasee daddy” he chuckles and rips your lacy panties apart, you were slightly disappointed cuz those were expensive but your thoughts were interrupted by his fingers slipping into your sobbing pussy

𝜗𝜚 - you moan, your back arching off him as his fingers curled inside you. “that’s it, moan for me, baby” your hips buck, “daddy!” his hands trail up to ur tits, his fingers playing with ur nipples. you dug the side of your face in the crook of his neck, placing small kisses on it

𝜗𝜚 - he’s knuckle deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again, making you gush around him. slick is dripping down ur thigh and it’s all over his hand, his thumb finds its way to ur clit. rubbing in circles, now ur uncontrollably moaning, ur tongue lolls out as spit dribbles down from it

𝜗𝜚 - he fucks into you one last time before you cum alllll around his fingers. you moaning a mix of things including “daddy” and “please”. as you come down from your high toji shuts the phone off. soothing you as he slips his fingers out. licking all the juices off them

𝜗𝜚 - toji uploads the video with the caption, “she’s such a good girl : )”. then he cuddles with you for what feels like hours and you both eventually fall asleep. the next day you wake up with 85.k likes on ur post and hundreds of new followers : 3

[cuteandhughesy]

‘I Knew They Didn’t Actually Hate Each Other!’ ╰┈➤ LD29

summary: lauren and connor mcdavid have very different reactions when finding out their best friends don't actually hate one another.

[word count] 2.8k

warnings: kissing | swearing | mature dialogue

a/n: a requested follow up part to couldn’t make it any harder! this is short and sweet but i’m absolutely certain this is how these interactions would go down if this was real life situation. ENJOY MY LEON GIRLIES 🧡💙

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

lauren knew.

okay, well, no she didn't know. but your best friend had a good incline that you were seeing some one.

it started with the smaller details. there was always fresh flowers—beautiful, expensive ones at that—on your kitchen countertop, accompanied by one of those little card holders. the note is always missing, meaning that you've put it somewhere. to which lauren says, suspicious.

less movie nights at lauren's because 'you're swamped with work.' more like swamped with sex. and you're always smiling, even when everyone is out together.

which unless lauren is fucking crazy and is completely remembering the past 7 years or so incorrectly, that was totally unheard of—especially when leon draisital is in the vicinity.

and lauren's pretty sure that she saw a hickey on your boob when your tank top shifted during hot yoga two weeks ago.

the math was just mathing, okay!

it started after the wedding. where as lauren was hungover and still wearing what felt like a million pounds of makeup from the night before, you waltzed into the room with a glow and a smile on your fresh face.

she'd honestly brushed that incident off until everything else starting falling into place like the perfect puzzle—but then lauren got to thinking. did you meet someone that night?

lauren has spent the past two months racking her brain for answers—answers to a question she wasn't going to ask you yet, because obviously she was determined to figure it out on her own before all else.

it was like the damn bachelorette in her head as lauren mentally assessed every single guy she and connor had at their wedding—trying to pinpoint which ones would capture her best friends attention enough for it to stick.

but no matter how many times lauren tried to work it all out, she came up short for answers.

you and this secret relationship are a mystery to her.

so it was this random september afternoon that lauren mcdavid decided she was going to get her answers—hold you down and physically pull them from your tongue if she has to. because your best friend is sick of being in the dark, especially when she knows….something is going on.

she can feel it in her damn gut.

so with an extra tight ponytail and her purse swinging loosely at her side, lauren knocks on your apartment door—so loud and aggressively that she almost scares herself. it's rather comical in the way she jerks her hand away from the wood at the sound.

she knows your home. wednesday's are your half days, meaning you only work in the morning. this time of year, just before the hockey season really starts up, connor's days are similar. and that’s how lauren remembers said information.

lauren was tempted to wait for her husband to get back from his suit fitting and make him come with her to your place—because like the whole good cop, bad cop idea sounded really appealing in her head—but lauren was too impatient.

she knocks again after a beat passes without any sound or sign of movement. it's only then that she hears your shaky voice through the door.

"sorry, one second!"

she squints incredulously at the door, even though you can't see her, her arms crossed over her chest like an impatient child. and sure, maybe she is impatient, but lauren feels that it's justified if you're keeping damn secrets from her like a freak.

finally, the apartment door is hastily pulled open, a gust of air pulling in the space between you and your best friend like the beginning of a storm. and perhapes lauren should've taken that as a sign.

at the sight of her, your eyes widen slightly, a wave of panic settling over your already frantic tainted features. you're slightly breathless, tank top a little askew like you've only just pulled it over the black bra lauren can see adorning your chest.

"hey," you greet, running a hand through your tousled hair, "I wasn't expecting you."

lauren's gaze narrows as she takes in your state, "I know. thought i'd drop in."

"oh," you swallow before giving a short laugh, "i'm actually just about to head out." another laugh, "yeah i'm just...I need eggs."

"eggs?"

"yeah!" you nod with seemingly panicked enthusiasm before giving a quick glance over your shoulder. you think it's discrete enough, but lauren catches it. 

she gives you a once over again, eyes trickling all the way down to your bare feet. it's then that lauren notices the shoes left hazardly by the front door. men's sneakers—men's sneakers that have been seemingly removed in a hast to be exact.

her lips part in shock, a tiny strangled gasp leaving her mouth as her eyes dart back to yours. "you're seeing someone! and he's in here right now, isn't he?"

this time, it's your turn to gasp. "i'm not seeing anyone!"

lauren raises a brow, "oh yeah?"

"yeah."

"okay, then who got you those flowers on your island?"

your jaw goes slack, mouth opening like you want to rattle off some sort of excuse, but the words never come.

lauren continues once she sees the little beige envelope still perched next to the beautiful arrangement of florals—pushing her way into your apartment like a woman on a mission. and that she is. "if you're not going to tell me, i'll just take a peek at that little card, mhm?"

"no!"

you dart past her, snatching the note before she has a chance to grab it.

and that’s the moment lauren’s knows that’s she’s been right all along. she makes a noise between a scoff and a laugh, dropping her expensive handbag to your barstool roughly. "okay, fine. i'll just find him then. 'cause I know he's in here."

"trust me when I tell you, this is not the way you want to meet him."

she stops walking, spinning on her heels as her inspector gadget brain starts up again. all half sarcastic hostility leaving her body as straight curiosity takes over—"so I haven't meet him before? because I've been trying to work out for the past few months if it was somebody at the wedding."

your eyes widen, "you've been sitting on this for months?"

"yeah! and it's been a damn uncomfortable seat because you didn't have the gut to just tell me about him," she trails off, "is he like a criminal or something?"

"no." you're quick to answer, "i'm pretty sure we'd both know that by now if that was the case." your slip up has your tongue going dry, eyes widening to a certain point that it looks painful.

"ha!" lauren points an accusing finger in your direction, "so I do know him."

"yes," you croak out, "but seriously let's just sit down and talk about this before you start searching my place like you're a FBI agent."

lauren doesn't even wait for you to finish before she's walking through your place, opening and closing closet doors on her way down the hall like a search dog. much to her dismay, the linen closet is empty, as well as the space you keep your holiday decorations.

the lack of man makes her scowl.

you're hot on lauren's heels, a blabbing mess of half strung together pleas falling on deaf ears as lauren pushes open your bedroom door.

there's a pair of jeans on the floor, half kicked under the bed like you—or whoever this man is—tried to hide them in a hurry. "is he in here?" lauren shoots you a pointed look. you wince, and she gets her confirmation. "is he in your closet?"

"i'm telling you right now, lauren, don't open the closet."

"i'm definitely going to open it."

and she does. and the sight before her immediately ignites a sound that can only be described as a wail. lauren shuts the closet door, a hand over her mouth while she blinks in a half shell shocked way.

a tense beat passes with lauren just staring off into space, and you anxiously biting the skin around your thumb nail, nervous gaze never once flickering from your best friend.

leon slips out between your closet doors a moment later, dressed in only his boxers. he has an awkward smile on his face and a hand cupping over his semi hard junk—trying to conceal all that from his teammates wife.

"hey lauren, how's it going?"

"what the fuck!" she gasps, looking between you both.

"you?"

you grimace, but nod.

"and you?"

leon nods.

“oh my god,” lauren fans her face, a dramatic flare that she doesn’t even realize she’s doing. “I think I'm going to pass out.”

you, used to and recognizing her said dramatics, don’t respond. but leon fully begins to freak out, eyes widening as he eases towards your best friends pacing form—large hands that minutes ago were down your pants, held out cautiously.

“you need sit down.”

lauren holds her hand up, halting your boyfriend in his tracks. “no, I can't—this is too much.” she begins fanning herself again, “when did this start happening?”

“what part?”

you shoot him a half stern look, “leon.”

“how many parts are there?”

“well we kissed when you locked us in your bedroom.” leon says often handily, like he didn’t just drop the biggest bomb on this entire situation.

lauren gasps again—because what do you mean you guys kissed before the wedding? before today. “what?!” she all but squawks, big blue eyes darting between the two of you like you’ve just committed a crime.

she pauses, thinking back on that moment when she’d let you and leon out of her bedroom that day many weeks ago. were your lips swollen? was leon’s hair a mess? were you guys kissing when the door was opened?

it’s hard for lauren to recall when leon’s deep, gravely voice continues—“and we hooked up in muskoka.”

another gasp, louder and sharper than ever as lauren spins on her heels, focusing her attention solely on you—which really works in her favour considering leon is still half naked.

“I knew it started at the wedding! god, I didn't even consider leon. and for good reason! I thought you guys hated each other.”

“we did!” you confirm.

“actually for the record,” leon interjects cautiously, “I never hated her.”

“of course you didn’t.” lauren lets out a disbelieving sigh, running a small hand over her makeup free face while digesting the flurry of emotions coursing through her.

she looks between you both once again, a softer expression beginning to take over her sharp features. “so you guys are..?”

you swallow, “dating.”

“like dating dating.”

you cringe at the highschool tone of it all, giving leon a wtf squint. “were in love,” you elaborate after a second, eyes slowly falling back in line with your best friend.

she makes a noise, “oh god, this is like straight out of a romance novel. I kind of feel like i've got whiplash.” lauren rolls her lips together, “why did you guys hide this from me?”

the vulnerability lacing her words makes your heart squeeze, and the way her eyebrows draw upwards like a sad cartoon character only amplifies the feeling.

regardless of the guilt rattling your bones, you and leon had good reason for keeping the beginning stages of your relationship a secret—not just from lauren, but from everyone. reasons you immediately begin rattling off, and this time the panic is in your voice.

“it was your wedding! and for the first little bit we didn't know how to navigate everything.”

leon chimes in before you can blink, coming to your defense like he’s been doing for years—since before you even realized he was doing so. “and we spent years bickering and fighting and we just wanted to keep everything in the down low until we found our rythym.”

“yeah, and it just felt good—we were just ours.” you exhale loudly, running a hand over the flat of your stomach as if to soothe the wave of nausea, your eyes never once parting from your best friends. “i'm sorry, lauren.”

she nods, a natural glint in her eyes. “you guys are some of my best friends. i'm not mad...I just wish you felt like you could've told me.”

“I was a shitty friend,” you admit gently, chewing the skin of your cheek anxiously.

it’s instantly that lauren waves your comment off, padding on the carpeted bedroom floor to close to space between you. and she just hugs you, so tightly that it almost hurts, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“no, you could never be,” she mutters, “and this will definitely take me at least a week to digest but...i'll get over it.” the playful tone that lauren usually possesses eases back into her voice. “you guys look hot together.”

you practically snort, “thanks.”

she hums before her eyes drift back towards your boyfriend. “now leon please put your pants back on.”

“don't have to tell me twice,” leon breathes, already retrieving his discarded jeans from under your bed frame, tugging them up his thick legs in a way that makes you drool.

lauren pulls back from the hug, her small hands still holding onto your arms as a excitable grin pulls at the corner of her plump lips. “okay, now, tell me how leon confessed that he loved you.”

“oh god.” leon groans from behind the material of his t-shirt, only half way over his head.

but you just match her grin, thinking back to the night under the stars and the warm muskoka air. “you're going to die!”

—

it’s only a week after lauren forcing her way into your apartment and quite literally exposing you and a half naked leon into spilling the beans about your relationship, that connor finds out.

which, you’re surprised lauren didn’t spill the beans before then, especially considering her and her husband are still in that lovey dovey newly wed phase that makes them literally do and share every single thing with one another.

not that you can really say anything about being in a honeymoon phase, because you and leon are so deep in it that it’s almost embarrassing—you can’t recall a day since that night in muskoka that you haven’t been touching or kissing leon in some way.

anyways.

you and leon both decided that telling connor needed to be more of a formal conversation—compared to the way lauren found out, for example. so, you planned a dinner at leon’s condo and invited the happy couple over.

lauren, obviously sitting on this secret was practically buzzing on the way over in the passenger seat—connor sending his wife curious looks at every red light. but lauren only just grinned back at him like a cheshire cat.

it was kind of freaky.

and you and leon tried—really tried to get it right. dinner was in the oven on the keep warm setting, consisting home made chicken and veggies and potatoes that you drizzled with an amount of butter that would have the oilers nutritionists frowning, while you waited for them.

but it all started when leon reached above you to grab the plates, his hand enclosing around your hip and giving it a firm squeeze. half hard against your ass.

so really it’s your boyfriends fault, because soon enough you were making out on the kitchen island like horny teenagers.

you’ve got your legs wrapped around leon’s thick waist, hands running through his hair while he paws at your ass and legs. kissing like it’s the oxygen you need to keep breathing. and in a way, that’s what it feels like.

because this version of leon drasitial—hell, even the version you thought despised your guts just as much as he did beer nuts—is truly your lifeline. and yeah, he is the air you breathe. he’s the sun and the moon and you love him more than anything.

and leon loves the colour red now. especially when it’s your red nails tickling his arm while you watch a movie together. when it’s your red lips kissing his cheek in the lazy morning light. your red sweatpants that you always leave on his bathroom floor.

too wrapped up in one another to hear the door open, you’re completely oblivious to the sound of lauren and connor toeing off their shoes, only a half wall between you.

all you can hear is your thumping heart.

all leon can hear is your little breathy sighs.

until—"I knew they didn't actually hate each other."

lauren half laughs, half gawks as you and leon separate. she eyes her husband in disbelief—connor doesn’t even look phased. no, if anything he looks content.

like he knew. and not in the way lauren knew. but like, actually had a real gut feeling about their best friends.

"was I the only clueless one?" lauren questions, watching as you slip off the counter top, adjusting your frilly top as you do so—previously roughed up from leon’s wondering hands.

you send her a look, wincing at her question. clearly, that means yes.

but connor just shrugs, walking further into the delicious smelling kitchen. the oilers captain picks a grape off the vine sitting in the large fruit bowl, popping it in his mouth.

"nah, they were both clueless about each other's feelings for like…7 years. you pale in comparison to that."