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willowed-wisp · 1 month ago

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ghost as a dad ( part three ) [ simon riley ]

part one | part two |

- You were surprised when Simon said he wanted to try for another baby when he was hesitant to be a dad before your eldest was born. That was eight year ago…

- he just wants one more, he adores how cute your babies are. And how attracted he gets seeing you pregnant.

- It wasn’t much of a surprise to you when you didn’t feel too great. Exhausted, a bit nauseous but not vomiting and so turned on. Not that Simon was complaining… but he was away, and would be longer than his usual one or two months.

- It would be your little surprise to him- ultrasounds in hand for when he came home.

- Turns out you were about eight weeks gone at the first ultrasound and when the technician started taking a closer look, you started to get unnerved. “Is everything okay with the baby?”

- “The babies are growing nicely…”

- “Did you just say… babies?” Then she faced the screen to you. Two shadows in your belly… “Twins?”

- Too early to tell the genders, but they would be when your Lieutenant returned back.

- You didn’t want to tell anybody before Simon, so you wore baggy clothes- hoping nobody would notice the unusually large belly as you entered your second trimester.

- No birth defects were spotted on your 12 week scan. And you were told a loose guess on what the gender was. But they couldn’t be sure until your 19th week.

- Simon returns back home to his favourite meal. “Where are the kids?” He seemed concerned. You were sat down, no kids in sight and a brown envelope in front of you.

- “They’re over at Tommy and Beth’s, they thought we could do with a night alone,” His face relaxed, though disappointed. He needed his tattoo coloured in again. “I got you something…”

- You took advantage of him opening the envelope to rear your way around the table. In the envelope, was a picture of the ultrasound and the test.

- Let’s just say, he spent a good 20 minutes on his knees hugging your stomach.

- He didn’t care what gender they were just that they were healthy.

- He made sure he was there for the birth. “Mr and Mrs Riley, a boy and a girl…”

- Like what’s been said before… he’s so girl dad coded.

- He had the boys from 141 help decorate the nursery.

- Johnny suggested pink and blue camo wallpaper and Simon nearly hung him from the baby mobile.

- Simon didn’t wish for any of his kids to join the military.

- The amount of medication he takes to get by in the day, he can’t sleep unless he’s at home…

- Simon is perfect for twin duty- holding both on his wings. In his grey fitted T-shirt, a bottle in each hand. Feeding the twins, in that light his eyes were russet undercoated with mauve circles. From the bed, you could feel that heat. The smouldering hearth of fatherly love.

- Simon was born to be a father, he just hadn’t known it.

- Can’t tell them apart and constantly mixes them around when they are younger. Practically identical- peering up to him with his own eyes.

- Simon marvels when the pair just stare at each other. “Are they sizing each other up, or what?” Makes you burst out laughing

- “When I stare at you I’m not planning how to murder you?”

- “Sure about that, love?”

- Simon taught your son to protect his sisters, “you’ve gotta watch our for everyone when I’m here and when I’m not,” and your son definitely listened, because whenever Simon was away- your son would make sure you ate, had put everyone else to bed and would comfort his younger siblings and even your eldest daughter when she started getting bullied and you just knew Simon put him up to it.

- Simon took care of the rest when he was back.

- When your eldest was being bullied and you had to have a parental meeting… Christ on Earth, your husband nearly had the bully’s dad in tears, “Your son ever picks on my li’l girl again… put ‘im in check or I will…”

- You’d never been so attracted to him before. And he gave your daughter a fist bump leaving school grounds, “Get ‘im by the ear next time and drag the bastard to a teacher…”

- Not surprised that the school phoned you the next day.

- You gave Simon an earful, but he wound you down with sweet neck kisses from neck to chest… and ended up riding him on the backseat on the Land Rover waiting for your daughter to finish school.

- That’s how he gets out of most disputes- you’re lucky you aren’t knocked up straight after births

- Your son’s caring and strong attitude stretched into his teenhood- until your son himself started dwelling on joining the SAS. The twins didn’t understand what the SAS were- being 8 at the time your son asked and enquired with his father.

- Simon has never wished for one of your kids to join his career because good men die. He knew that more than anyone.

- But he would train your son to be the best survivor and best trainee he could be

- He turned into a Simon junior, only having a sprinkle of your genetics. Only an inch shorter than his dad but Simon would give him a run for his money

- Simon definitely adapts to different ages very well, he goes all cutesy when they’re kiddos but when they start growing up- he’s more protective and nurtures them.

- He teaches them to look out for each other- like he had with his brother and mum.

- Tells them that if he didn’t come home, to take care of their mumma… but luckily he always comes back.

- He had to, he wanted to see the twins look miles apart from each other growing up.

- Tomboy girl and computer nerd boy.

- Simon loved his family, even when being used as a makeup mannequin and a nail polish model from your youngest daughter when playing dress up with the eldest

- It was different to the war paint he used around his eyes.

- He’d even let her put a bow in his hair.

- BRIGHT PINK BOWs, you’ve never laughed so hard and your military-bound son shakes his head.

- Every birthday that goes around he always whispers to you, “This is what I come home for…”

————

masterlist

taglist:

@thychuvaluswife @foxygirl-4287 @1-800-g00ber

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s0urw00lf · 6 months ago

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Can you do something for Issac Lahey? Maybe like him reacting to reader getting hurt or him being overly protective but he’s been too scared to share his feelings

Your protector

Pairing: Isaac layhey x reader

Summary: Isaac has been extra protective since you joined him in the supernatural world

Warnings: best friends to lovers, protective Isaac, sweetheart Isaac

AN: whoever requested this i want to give you a kiss because i love Isaac so much, he was so adorable and not talked about enough throughout the teen wolf fandom. Also this may be really long so bear with me here.

Isaac is your best friend, or was, about seven months ago he decided to drop you with no warning and joined the group of kids that everyone wanted to be apart of led by Scott McCall. You’d be lying if you said you werent completely broken by it, but you accepted it. You guessed after his dad died he decided he’d shed his old life and make a new one. He also had began dressing and acting different. He had this strong aura around him, he was confident and it showed. You were happy for him, that he gained himself a new family, you just wished he’d taken you with him.

that leads you to today, it was raining lightly and you were still getting used to walking home from school alone, even though after all of this time you should be, you weren’t. You and Isaac had been walking home together since first grade when you moved to beacon hills and befriended the boy two houses down. You were walking past the animal clinic when you heard something ruffle behind you, you quickly turned around and squinted trying to see what you could, but after a couple of seconds of nothing you turned back a round and resumed your walk. Why you decided not to bring your bike today? You didn’t know but now you were cursing at yourself for the stupid idea. You heard another ruffle behind you but it seemed closer, you turned around again but saw nothing. But you heard it, it was something big and its breathing was heavy. Almost dog like.

‘Hello?” You called out, bringing your hand up to shield your eyes from the rain, “look whoever you are this isn’t funny” you shouted, people in school, specifically Jackson loved to torment you now that you were alone almost 99% of the time. You quickly turned around and continued walking with a faster pace, deciding against the cliche horror movie following the sound move. A knot grew in your throat as you tried to conceal your anxiety.

Then out of nowhere you heard another growl from right behind you. You didn’t take the time to turn around and look that time, you just took off in a sprint. You only made it a couple of steps before you slipped, no thanks to the slippery ground. You hit her head pretty hard, all of a sudden a huge animal like figure was standing above you huffing, almost angrily, your breathing picked up but you couldn’t move. It was like you’d been glued to the ground. The animal circled your trembling form, you hoped that if you didn’t make any move the animal wouldn’t consider you a threat and leave.

You quickly figured out you were wrong, because after thirty seconds of circling you the animal bit you on her leg, you let out the most blood curdling scream as the animal ran off back into the woods. You sat up looking at your now blood covered leg, the shock suddenly hit you and everything went black.

You woke up to an intense pounding in your head, and the bright light shining above You did not help. “Christ” you muttered covering your eyes with your hand, only then did you feel the burning in your leg. You hissed, suddenly moving to grab at the injury, “you might not want to do that” a voice spoke entering the room startling you. “Sorry it was time for me to feed the animals”. It was the man you had known to own the animal clinic, suddenly confused you sat up. “Am i in the animal clinic?” You asked tilting your head. The man nodded before turning around and grabbing a bottle of pills handing them to you “should help with the pain” he said. Still confused you spoke “is this not for animals?” You asked. The man paused “you’ll soon find that my specialties lie beyond animals. I’m deaton by the way.” He said “take those and here is a water. I have a phone call to make. What is your name, may i ask?” He said handing you a small bottle of water. You eyed the pill bottle suspiciously “y/n, y/n l/n” you said. The man nodded walking out of the room, you guessed to go make the phone call.

‘what the hell’ you thought, before downing the pill. Anyone would’ve called you crazy for trusting the guy but you didn’t care, you had just experienced the most terrifying thing ever and you were in pain and desperate.

You sat in the room alone fore a round 25 minuted before you heard three new voices, which you recognized fairly well. You hopped off the table and snuck into the next room, careful not to put too much weight on your injured leg. In the room stood Scott stiles and… Isaac. All four of the men stopped conversing when Scott made eye contact with you over deaton’s shoulder. At the sudden silence deaton turned around toward where the boys were looking and saw you standing in the door way. “Y/n id like you to meet-“ “i know who they are” you cut him off. You tilted your head “i don’t understand why are they here?” You asked, eyeing Isaac who wouldn’t even meet your gaze. “Y/n we should talk.” Scott said taking a careful step towards you. You nodded “okay.” You complied. “you might wanna sit down” stiles said pointing to the row of chairs.

With the help of Scott you were able to do so with no casualties. The three boys sat down in front of you. “Okay” Scott spoke. “What happened to you today is gonna change you. For the better or worse is your decision. It’s gonna make you faster, see better and hear better. Along with some other things” Scott trailed off. You took in what he was saying, “is it what happened to you two?” You asked pointing at Scott and Isaac. They both pulled surprised faces, while stiles looked offended “wait why wouldn’t you assume it happened to me?” Stiles asked. You looked at him as if he was crazy “they randomly got good at lacrosse. You still… suck to say the least” you said. Stiles squinted at you eyes twitching. Scott cut stiles off before he could cause a scene. “Yes thats what happened to us” he answered, you nodded. “Wait am i like a, vampire or something?” You asked, dread filling her veins. Scott glance at Isaac, confused on why you were so cool about it who shrugged. “Uh yeah, something like that but more animal..ly” he said. “oh so like a werewolf” you said. He nodded.

after they finished giving you the rundown and was shocked at how well you took it they offered you a ride home and of course after the day you had, you accepted. The two boys in the front chatted mindlessly as if this was a normal occasion but you could practically feel the anger radiating off of Isaac. Which was funny to you because last time you checked, you were the one that should’ve been mad.

When you arrived at home you thanked them and hopped out sparing a glance at Isaac before closing the door door and walking away. What you missed was Scott basically forcing him to go talk to you, so when you heard the car door open and close again then quickly drive off you turned around confused until you saw the blonde curly headed boy. You waited for him to reach you before silently entering your house, inviting him in.

You went to your room and Isaac almost timidly followed you “You know you don’t have to stay with me out of pity” you said. He sighed entering your room, noting the small changes that’d been made “it’s not pity y/n” he said eyeing your picture collage that surprisingly hadn’t changed at all. You squinted “no? Then what is it? Guilt?” You said.

After all this time you thought you weren’t angry, but now that he was standing in your face, you were angrier than ever. “Me getting bit is what it took for you to finally look in my direction again is that it?” You took a step forward. Isaac averted his gaze to his shoes . “I was trying to protect you.” He quietly spoke. You let out a laugh “protect me? Well you did a great job at that, look at me now i have a bite on my leg that i don't even know if ill live from, and if i do i just so happen to ill have creatures and people trying to cut me in half or rip my heart out so thank you for ‘protecting me’” you said sarcastically.

”it wasn't supposed to be like this” he said finally looking you in your eye. “well tell me what was it supposed to be like Isaac?” You asked getting louder. “not like this y/n, you weren’t supposed to get involved in this life” he matched your volume. “Right and completely cutting me from your life was the best way to go about that” You shouted, your heart began to race and the anger in your chest began to fester like it was burning your skin. Isaac’s eyes widened “y/n calm down” he stated carefully. You glared at him “no i don't think i will” you said stalking forward. Isaac quickly grabbed you and before you had any chance to retaliate he turned you to face the mirror you had on your wall. Your eyes were glowing a bright orange, the shock hit you like a ton of bricks and the glow immediately disappeared. “What the hell? Do yours do that?” You asked him, Isaac stood behind you wide eyed “yeah, but not that color” he answered. You turned around in confusion “what do you mean?” You asked. “I think we should call Derek” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket “hale?” You asked incredulously. He nodded.

‘what the hell’

#s0urw00lf #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey #isaac lahey x y/n #isaac lahey x you #scott mccall #stiles stilinski x reader #scott mccall x reader #x reader #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf x y/n #teen wolf x you

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sandflakedraws · 2 months ago

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Okay I’m not even into trolls or anything, but that height analysis was pretty cool and interesting lol

Any more things you analyzed? (Or even a fun fact, idk, just wanna see people talk about things they like)

i've analyzed quite a lot but one thing i haven't seen other folks fully explore is the horrific living conditions in that bottle.

i know why it's not covered in film, cause again, this story is a silly musical comedy for kids! and if it were given it's full appraisal, the tone of the movie would be absolutely shot.

...

but like,,,, it's so dang bad in there my dude. it's SO bad.

like, in it's upright position, the diamond's base isn't big enough for floyd to lay down on, without cricking his neck severely.

so even when we see him drifting to sleep, he's sitting. minimum 2 months of trying to sleep sitting up. (against a cold/hard surface no less)

(he's also got an instant-wake response to . someone lightly tapping on the door. . .)

oh and also! the air in there has gotta be super thin, as there is but a single breathing hole at the top of it, not even as wide as a troll finger.

and that's ! when it's not capped off ! most of the time, it's got the spritz cap on, making it even harder for any air to circulate in there.

while we're at it ; since that's the only opening (no clasps, no grooves, no visual indicators that it can open via any other method at all, hence the film's conceit that the brothers need to hit the PFH to free him), i'm inclined to believe that it's also the only way to get food to him...

... which is to say you can have your pick of many terrible options for that. whether velvet & veneer tried to mash something through there, or have him sip from the world's worst gerbil feeder,

or they just. didn't feed him at all. and he's only alive because it's a magic world.

wHICH IS STILL SAYING NOTHING ABOUT HOW THEY ACTUALLY HANDLE HIM

plugging those excerpts cause. y. yeah... they're not gentle with him at all. bro is Bruised to all hell.

.... and none of this has to do with the actual core threat in the movie, which is having his core forcefully ripped from his body, leading to the whiteness and crystallization we see goin on.

in conclusion i need way more art/fics covering floyd's recovery okay? okay.

#its uh. what the professionals would say is. REAL HECKIN GNARLY #they called it torture in-film and dear lord they were Right.#hELP him....#joey babbles #anon #trolls #trolls floyd #long post #undescribed #do you guys ever think about how the first thing floyd feels when he's out of the bottle is a group hug from his brothers.#Man ....#trolls angst #shaking gif #epilepsy warning #? jic

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peachiejeongin · 10 days ago

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Back to Blue | Han Jisung

Synopsis: Jisung messages you out of the blue one day, and before you know it, you are at the Stray Kids dorm dying his hair back to blue.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader

Genre: established relationship, fluff, crack

Warnings: None! (Unless shirtless Jisung counts)

WC: 1.6k

Notice: My loves, this was an entirely unprompted fanfiction. I have a couple requests scheduled and I'm working on a longer fiction, so I was not going to write anything at all today. But after reading a few stories about Hyunjin's buzzcut and Felix's dark hair, I realized I had not seen many stories about the return of Bluesung on my feed; therefore, I decided to write my own!...and I may or may not have sped-wrote it in about an hour or two. Whoops! Nevertheless, enjoy the story, my darlings! (I am also attempting a new format style, so enjoy that as well!).

Divider By: @strangergraphics-archive

It started with a random text on a Saturday afternoon.

Hannie<3: Hello, my beautiful, gorgeous, amazing specimen of a partner who I love more than anything else ever! You: What do you want, Ji? Hannie<3: Sooooo, our hairstylist may or not be out sick with the flu, and your amazing boyfriend who is ALWAYS so nice to you may or may not be wanting to bring back an old hair color so....wanna come help me dye my hair blue? :D

You blinked at your phone, rereading the message over and over again as if you were trying to find a joke in the wording that you had missed; he could not be serious, could he?

You: Why not just go to an ACTUAL salon? Hannie<3: And have them mess it up? Absolutely not! You're the only one I trust with this so can you pleeeeease come do it for me?? You: Hannie, I'm going to hold your hand when I say this. You: I have never dyed anyone's hair before. Hannie<3: Boxes have instructions for a reason!

You narrowed your eyes at your phone briefly, quirking your lips into a line; you pondered the text for a moment before sighing and typing out a reply.

You: I'll be there in fifteen.

Minutes later, you were at Jisung's dorm, standing in the doorway to his bedroom with a skeptical expression etched onto your face; your boyfriend just grinned at you like an eager puppy.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist the urge to play mad scientist with my hair."

"You're acting like I'm about to give you an entirely new identity," you retorted, stepping inside and tossing your keys onto his bed. "Remind me why you want blue specifically? I thought you wanted to stay natural for a while."

Han shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I did, but blue is like my color, y'know? Fans loved it, and, let's be real, I looked amazing!" You rolled your eyes at the final comment but could not help the smile that eased past your lips.

"Fine," you told him, "but if this goes wrong, I am taking zero responsibility."

"Noted," he replied, leading you down the hallway to the bathroom; a box of blue hair dye already sat waiting on the counter.

"Wow," you teased, picking up the box and analyzing the instructions. "You really went all out with the cheap stuff. Y'sure it won't turn your hair green?"

Han laughed at first, but his eyes widened slightly, his playful expression morphing into one of slight fear.

"Wait...it's not going to do that, right?"

"I guess we'll find out."

Han let out a dreadful groan as you opened the box, pulling out the black rubber gloves that came with it; you pulled them on with a moderate snap as Han took off his shirt, throwing it somewhere on the messy bathroom floor. He perched on the edge of the bathtub, wrapping a small towel around his neck as you read the instructions in order to figure out just what you were doing.

After scanning over the steps and figuring out the process of unprofessionally coloring hair, you took out the color and the developer and poured both into the applicator bottle, shaking it harshly in order to quickly mix up the dye. Once the agents were fully combined, you stepped closer to Han, sitting yourself beside him on the rim of the tub.

"Okay, tilt your head back," you instructed, squeezing a tiny amount of hair dye onto your finger tips.

"Wait," Han suddenly said, looking up at you with large, doe-eyes. "What happens if it actually turns my hair green?"

"Hannie, it's just hair," you replied, running your clean hand through his hair lightly. "You'll be fine."

"But my appearance is my livelihood!" He clutched a dramatic hand over his heart, pretending to tear up at the thought. "If my hair is ruined, I'm ruined!"

"Well, you could always shave your head and wait for it to grow back!" you playfully remarked. "Hopefully by then, your stylist will feel better!"

"A shaved head?!" Han gasped dramatically, his words loud and bewildered. "Do I look like my name is Hyunjin? We can't have two kiwis in the group!" You chuckled at his melodramatics before halting suddenly, furrowing your eyebrows slightly.

"Wait, Hyunjin shaved his head?"

"Oh, nevermind that!" Han playfully shook his head as he spoke. "Can you just get started before I go crazy?"

"You're already crazy, Hannie, but okay."

You slowly raked the blue dye through Han's hair, being as gentle as possible just in case you caught any missed tangles or knots. You went by sections, going by the layers of Han's hair. As you worked, Han squirmed as if he were a child.

"Ow!" he yelped unseriously. "That was a tangle!"

"Han, my fingers literally ran through a couple of strands," you retaliated, trying not to laugh. "How could I have hit a tangle?"

"I don't know, but that's what it felt like," he muttered, pouting and wincing for effect.

"You're such a baby," you teased, brushing through his hair more softly. "I know you don't act like this with the stylists, so just behave for me, would you?"

"Fine, fine," he conceded with a sigh. "In my defense, though, it absolutely kills me to sit still for an hour with them, too."

"Keep yourself distracted then," you suggested as you began to work on the second section of hair. "Like, just talk to me about whatever will make time pass by for you."

Upon your statement, you and Han began to discuss everything and nothing, from his plans for the week, to a new song he was working on, and finally the latest group chat antics with the other members. You had to pause your efforts multiple times during conversation, scolding Han for turning his head away from you while he was speaking. By the time you had finished applying the dye, you were both laughing so hard that your sides were aching.

"Okay," you sighed out victoriously, peeling off your gloves and throwing them away along with the applicator bottle. "Now we wait."

"For how long?"

"Thirty minutes," you answered after re-checking the box's directions. As you pulled out your phone to set a timer, Han let out a frustrated groan, slumping dramatically off of the bathtub's edge and onto the bathroom floor.

"I am going to die of boredom."

"You could always help me clean up," you suggested, glancing pointedly at the blue streaks adorning the whie porcelain of the bathtub, as well as some spots that had made their way onto the floor.

"Absolutely not." Han sat up quickly, shaking his head. "That's your mess."

"Excuse me?" you shot back while chuckling. "Are you not the one who squirmed, flinced, and turned your head so aggressively that you got hair dye everywhere?" Before Han could answer, you pulled out a washrag from one of the bathroom drawers, turning on the faucet to wet it slightly and tossing it to Han.

"Now, get it before it dries up!" you commanded, getting out a second rag for yourself. "I don't want to explain to your managers why the dorm's bathroom looks like a Smurk emporium."

To your gratitude, and more so Han's, cleaning up the smeared hair dye made the time pass by swiftly; within what felt like moments, the alarm on your phone had gone off.

"Thank goodness!" Han yelled, standing up from where he had been kneeled on the floor, working on a particularly tough stain. "Moment of truth!" Han made his way to the shower, sliding open the door before glancing back at you.

"Privacy, please!" he cheekily commanded, waiving you away sassily.

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't forget to use this, ya goof." You handed him the small packet of hair color conditioner before striding out of the bathroom.

"Text me when you're done."

You were sitting on Han's bed, scrolling through social media for what felt like an eternity; you were never able to understand how one person could take such a lengthy shower. You got the urge to go knock on the bathroom door and ask what was taking so long, but before you could, your phone buzzed.

Hannie<3: All done! Come look! :D

You smiled at the text, sluggishly standing up and making your way to the bathroom. You opened the door to find a beaming Han, his squirrely smile lighting up the entire bathroom as he ran his hands through his hair whilst looking in the mirror; it was blow-dried, which was probably why he took longer than expected, but most importantly, it was vibrant, shiny, and blue.

"Ladies and...well, just lady!" Han exclaimed as he turned to you, a prominent, joyous sparkle present in his eyes. "I present to you: the return of Bluesung!"

"No kidding!" you responded, ruffling his hair lightly and fluffing it up slightly. "I think I nailed it!"

"You did!" he agreed, grinning from ear to ear. "I am dangerously attractive now. Well, I've always been attractive, but even more so now, baby!"

"Alright, alright." You rolled your eyes, lightly pushing at his shoulder. "Calm down, Blueberry."

"Careful," he warned, the gleeful glint in his gaze turning into a mischevious one. "Call me that again, and I'm dying your hair."

"Fine by me," you retorted while smirking. "I've been wanting to go purple for a while, Blueberry."

"Oh, you little!" Han picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and playfully bickering with you as he spun you around the bathroom; however, even through the teasing and the unserious arguing, one thought crossed your mind:

Blue really did suit him.

Taglist: @velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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libraryofloveletters · 11 months ago

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New Years At Home

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: baby fever to the max, girl dad kimi, alcohol and the consumption of, sweetness all around, matching daddy daughter outfits, mention of seb and hanna cause it is even me if I don't mention seb?

Word Count: 384

Author's Note: kimi is so dad coded, he's so sweet with his kids it makes me melt <3333

From partying to parents; you and Kimi celebrate your first new years with your baby girl.

The red and black plaid dress fit her perfectly, a gift from uncle Seb and auntie Hanna. Kimi was wearing a plaid shirt with the same colours but the shirt was unbuttoned, the white t-shirt underneath a contrast to the busy pattern.

Your daughter, Lily, laid against her father's chest, the girl drooling all over his shirt as she napped and the man hadn't a care in the world.

"You're gonna wake her up," Kimi tells you quietly, your phone flashing every two seconds as you take photos of them.

The girl shifted a bit, Kimi brushed her blonde hair softly and kissed her head. "I can't help you," you tell him. "You two are so cute."

Kimi rolls his eyes, picking her up carefully as he walks to the playpen, putting her down gently. "Don't disturb her," he tells you, kissing your head as he passes by to get to the kitchen.

You snuck over quietly, taking one more picture of your sweet baby, sending it to Hanna before you turned your phone off, finding your husband in the kitchen.

"Last year, we were at some party around this time, drunk off of that horrible tequila." You laughed. Kimi hands you a glass of champagne, "that stuff was gross, I've never had anything like that before."

"Yeah, I don't know who brought that." You tapped your glass to his as you two took a sip of the gold colour liquid.

Just as you go to settle down on the couch, looking for the countdown channel, Lily wakes up and begins fussing. "I got her," you step over your husband, picking up the girl and rocking her.

Kimi disappears into the kitchen and comes back a few moments later with her bottle, handing it over to you when you sit on the couch with her. You hold Lily in your arms, feeding her as Kimi puts his arm around you.

The countdown playing in the background; 5,4,3,2,1 - happy new years! The big gold graphic plays across the screen.

Kimi leans over, kissing the top of Lily's head gently, her blonde hair all fuzzy and unruly from her nap. His hand cups your jaw, "happy new years, babe." He kisses you softly.

You smile, forehead to his. "Happy new year baby.

#holiday extravaganza blurbs 23 #kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen x reader #kimi raikkonen x you #kimi raikkonen x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 imagine #f1 blurb

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devoutekuna · 7 months ago

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First few weeks

Includes- Toji, Sukuna, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Sukuna-

He hated the first few months, he had a baby which cried every time they woke up, but he had to give you props for giving birth, he wished he could just wake you up and have you deal with the kid but he knew that wouldn't be right. Who would've thought that the king of curses was actually considerate? "What do you want?" Peering over their crib as he examined his kid, maybe they were cold? Picking them up as he twirled them around. "You want milk or something?" Walking towards the kitchen to get some milk. Unwrapping the swaddle on the way there. Stuffing the bottle in their mouth, watching the supply slowly deplete.

Nanami-

He was already under immense stress, and the baby only added to the fuel. She was always crying whenever she was awake, it was like it was her only emotion, taking a longer paternity leave than wanted, he always took care of you, only waking you up from your slumber if it was about feeding your daughter or feeding you, letting you get the well deserved rest. "Please don't wake your mother up" glancing over at your sleeping body as she cried. Taking her out of the room. Stroking her hair as she stopped crying, holding her close to his body. "Aw, did you just want someone to cuddle?"

Geto-

He loves his baby girl, always volunteering to change her nappy or feed her whenever you were too tired. "Go to sleep Y/N, I can take care of her." Caressing your forehead as you tried to sleep. Laid out on the bed with his daughter resting on his bare chest, "You too" rubbing her back as she tried to sleep, she had just been fed so it was expected for her to head to sleep by now. Flipping her onto her back as he was instructed never to let her sleep on her front.

Gojo-

"You think he can say 'mama'?" Peeking his curiosity as he stared harder at his son, big blue eyes staring into his soul, tears dripping down his face, it was an eyesore to see the pale man's face Infront of his. Son laid out on the bed, cradled in a swaddle, unable to move around. Eyes searching desperately for your face, he wasn't even 2 weeks old yet he didn't like his father already, you couldn't blame him, Satoru has always been invasive and never respected people's personal space. "No, he's only 11 days old" dragging your husband back from your son, giving him some relief as he saw the man get further back. "Still, he's got two smart parents, so he should be able to say it, I said my first words when I was 8 months old" rambling on about something as he sat down next to you. "Did you actually?" you thought it was highly unlikely that he said his first words at 8 months old, but then again he was Satoru Gojo. "No" laughing at how well he deceived you.

Toji-

Toji was most definitely on guard the whole time she was a baby, refusing to touch her unless you begged as he was so scared of hurting his precious daughter. "Can you hold her whilst I get changed?" Slipping out of bed as you handed your baby girl to her father, resting her body on his chest, rising with each breath, heart beating faster as he felt her body. Hand wrapped gently on her back, making sure she didn't slip off. Rubbing her back with his fingers, trying to make her burp after being fed from you. His other hand trying to touch her hand, only for her hand to grip onto his finger. Maybe it was a reflex or some actual bonding.

#geto fluff #gojo fluff #toji fluff #sukuna fluff #nanami fluff #geto x reader #gojo x reader #nanami x reader #sukuna x reader #toji x reader #geto suguru #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #sukuna ryomen #nanami kento #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #jjk #𝙳𝚎𝚟𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚎𝙺𝚞𝚗𝚊

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 3 months ago

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[2:09 pm]

(cw: parents!au, f!reader)

Nap time was an easy time to be a dad. Your son had been down for about half an hour and was set to be down for another hour. You had gone out for some errand and dad!Doyoung offered to stay home.

He was relaxing on the couch, eating some chips and watching TV when he heard the familiar pitter patter of feet heading his way. He quieted the TV, peeking over the back of the couch just to catch sight of his son walking toward him while rubbing his eyes and staggering back and forth tiredly.

The toddler crawled up onto the couch and went right into Doyoung's side, blinking tiredly at the screen. He hadn't slept enough and that much was clear. His eyes were still swollen and squinted in the bright light of the living room, his lips were pouted with a tired frown, and Doyoung found himself upset that he didn't have his phone on hand to take a picture of one of the cutest sights he'd ever seen.

Well, a sight he'd seen countless times. Through many years of dating, a couple years of marriage, and now his son did the same. Doyoung wishes he could say he was upset that your son both looked and acted like you, but he really wasn't. He loved seeing your mini-me pick up on your habits unknowingly.

His son sighs tiredly, a small yawn escaping him as he blinks at the screen and extends his small legs across his dad's lap. It was slightly eerie the way his son did it the exact way you did. He turned his head, focusing on the screen while his hand began patting Doyoung's arm in a familiar pattern of pat, rub, pat, rub, pat, rub and so on. It was the same pattern that you used every night while you and Doyoung laid in bed together. Doyoung's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, how would his son have known this?

The toddler's leg lightly kicked the bowl in Doyoung's lap, jostling the chips in the bowl. Doyoung steadied the bowl, until his son did it again and again. He looked at Doyoung and pointed his finger at the chips and then let out a quiet, "ahhhh."

Doyoung snorted out a laugh, and placed a small chip between his son's lips and happily crunched away until his kicked the bowl again, indicating that he wanted more.

Doyoung complied and flitted his attention from the screen to his son. It wasn't until the bowl had been emptied and the toddler fell asleep with an arm covering his face, just like you, that he remembered how you would ask him to feed you when you were heavily pregnant. But how would your son have known this? He was in the womb.

Doyoung is stuck in his head drawing comparisons between yours and your son's actions, habits, looks, and mannerisms. There's too many similarities that start to freak him out. Was this kid just a clone of you?!

Speaking of you... where were you? It'd been over two hours since you left and he was starting to miss you, even with your clone sticking his little toes in Doyoung's ribs.

The garage door opens and you come in with an armload of bags from a department store. "Honey, you're not going to believe what I found!" you exclaim as you settle onto the floor and begin showing Doyoung everything that you bought.

Somewhere in between you showing off some dish towels and decor for the home, your son wakes up and finds his usual spot in your lap. While you show off some new cookies in your bag, your son pulls hand soap from the bag. He holds up the bottle and looks at Doyoung with an expectant look.

"Wow," Doyoung draws out with a slightly confused smile.

"Yes! This is a good one!" you unscrew the top to take a sniff and hum, "baby, smell it."

Doyoung leans forward, ready to smell the hand soap, but instead you hold the soap a safe distance away from the toddler's face. Of course, it was your son. The toddler who takes a deep sniff and hums, exactly the way you did.

"You like it, baby?" you ask the boy in a soft, animated voice, "it's so yummy huh?"

He nods decisively before repeating, "yummy."

Doyoung let's out a breathy chuckle, completely amused at how similar you both are. He shrugs and leans back again, choosing to focus on your and your son entertain each other by showing off what was in the bags. If someday in the future you were to have another child, he wouldn't be mad or even the slightest bit upset if they came out as another clone of you. He'd love it.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #dad!nct #doyoung fluff #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader #doyoung drabble #doyoung blurbs

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judes-hoe · 5 months ago

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Happy days ~ JB5

Parrings ~ Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary ~ a relaxing day with Jude and your three kids.

Warnings ~ fluff🥺

A/N ~ I’ve posted so much smut we need some fluff(please stay till end!!)

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You and Jude have 3 beautiful kids. Your oldest a boy who’s 4 named Levi. Your middle a girl who’s 2 names Ellah. Then the youngest another boy who’s about 5 months old named Elijah.

You and Jude got married when your oldest, Levi, turned one. You couldn’t be happier where your life is.

It was early morning, Jude had the day off. It was what you liked to call a laid back lazy day almost. You rolled over looking at Jude’s sleeping face. You press kisses around his face while softly rubbing his shoulder.

“Morning love.” Jude mumbled. “Morning baby.” You replied. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. You laid like that for about 5 minutes, before you both got up. You went down to the kitchen to start breakfast. Jude was helping you, getting the ingredients for the pancakes, and getting the table ready.

You made pancakes and bacon. Just as you finished the bacon you hear footsteps coming downstairs. You see Levi coming downstairs holding Ellah’s hand to help her. You and Jude give soft laughs looking at their messy bed heads. Jude gets them seated and you place the food at the dining table.

Jude puts a pancake and two pieces of bacon on each of their plates. As he does the you hear Elijah crying over the baby monitor. You give Jude a look that says ‘I got him’ and you make your way upstairs.

You walk into Elijah’s nursery, you see him lying in his crib crying. You pick him up and rock him gently. “Mamas here, let’s change your diaper and then go eat.” You said kissing the side of his head and placing him on the changing table.

After you changed him you take him to the dining room and put him in the high chair. Levi and Ellah had started eating and Jude had started to make his own plate. You grab one of the baby plates and cut very small pieces of pancake, and give him an Apple sauce. You then make your own plate and sit next to the high chair.

Everyone was eating in a comfortable silence. You were feeding Elijah while eating your own food. You look at Jude and see him smiling at you which you return back.

After everyone was done eating Jude offered to clean up. You, Levi, Ellah, and Elijah all went to the living room. Levi and Ellah watched cartoons and played with their toys. You had Elijah in your lap and fed him his morning bottle.

Jude came and sat next to you watching as Elijah finished drinking his bottle. Jude held his hands out and took Elijah, putting him on his shoulder and burping him. A few small burps came out Elijah.

You then take Elijah and put him on his tummy time mat. You then snuggle into Jude’s side while watching the three kids. “Perfect little family.” Jude said kissing your head. “I couldn’t ask for any better.” You said looking up at him with a smile.

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A/N ~ so I’m thinking about making like a dad!jude thing where you guys request what you wanna see with this little family!!!

#jude bellingham #judes-hoe😚#jude bellingham drabble #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham imagine #dad!jude

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rosenclaws · 3 months ago

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Nightmares || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

summary: Logan has a nightmare and finds comfort his his new child.

warnings: fluff, comfort, his child is adopted

Part if the Moonlight series (coming soon lol)

a/n: So i did things a little backwards. This should have been a oneshot after the og story of them finding the baby but I got this idea in my head and I couldn’t shake it so you’re getting some things out of order. You don’t need any context other than shes a baby and adopted tbh. Her name is Diana and i did take that from league of legends

Logan shoots up, chest pounding as a nightmare lingers in his head. He doesn't remember what this one was about. Probably just like all the other ones. His dead friends, the blood on his hands. Something along those lines.

He feels you stir next to him and freezes. You've been absolutely exhausted the last couple of weeks with the baby so the last thing he wants for you is to wake up because of him. He gently rubs your back, watching you relax under his touch until you're back to a nice deep sleep.

Loud cries start to come from the next room. His brows furrow as he pulls off the sheets.

Worry building in his chest as he hurries to the next room. Is something wrong? Is she sick? Hurt? He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees her in her bed. He places his hand on her forehead to check for a fever. No sign of sickness which is good but he's hyper aware as he checks her over.

"Hey there kid, what's with all the crying?" The crying starts to subside the moment she lays eyes on Logan.

He shushes her gently. Picking her up from her crib and holding her in his arms. He walks around in circles, gently bouncing her in his arms.

She's wearing some stupid onesie that Wade bought her. Red to match his suit. Stuffed animals sit perfectly in her crib but she clutches hard to one in particular. A damn wolverine plushie that you had searched forever for. He rolled his eyes at the idea but the moment Diana saw that stupid plush she squealed with happiness. Now it's her best friend.

"See no tears, no reason for tears. I'm here." He wipes away the stray tears from her chubby little cheeks.

He moves to put her back in bed but her faces scrunches up like she's going to cry again so he keeps her in his arms. He slowly sinks into the rocking chair sat next to her bed. Cradling her as he slowly rocks back and forth. The chair creaks beneath his weight and he makes a note to get a stronger chair.

"You hungry?" He tries to feed her the bottle you keep for emergencies but she won't budge. She doesn't need a diaper change so he has no clue why she woke up this time.

“Did you have a nightmare?" He asks softly as she grabs onto his finger. Looking up at him with big glassy eyes.

"That's okay, I get them too." She babbles nonsense in response.

Sometimes Logan wonders what she dreams about. Does she have memories of her parents? Does she ever miss them? Can she even miss them? She's just a baby. A poor, innocent child who was left for dead. The idea makes his blood boil. How could you just leave a child like that?

They're born into this world helpless and the people who were supposed to protect them left because their child happened to be born a mutant. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself. He was upsetting her, like she could sense his anger.

"Sorry kid, didn't mean to make you sad." She puts his finger in her mouth, sucking on it like a binky.

"Having fun there?" She gurgles and he takes that as a yes.

She shows no sign of being tired which is bad news for him and you. You just got her on a good sleep schedule and now it might get ruined.

"I know how scary nightmares can be." He brushes her little cheek and she giggles.

"But I promise they can't hurt you. I won't let anything hurt you." Her eyes start to flutter shut, the grip on his finger loosen as she listens to him talk. He moves her so that her head is resting on his chest. His hand rubbing up and down her back. She yawns and snuggles closer to him.

"Back to sleep kiddo, there we go."

"Logan?" Your sleepy voice calls from the door. You rub your eyes as you take in the view of Logan holding Diana in his arms.

"Nightmare.” He says looking at you. You walk over and gently rub his arm.

“You or her?” He doesn’t answer. You stay with them for a while. She’s fast asleep by now but she looks so comfortable in Logan’s arms that you can’t even think of separating the two.

“Do you want to talk about it?” No. He doesn’t. He’d rather focus on the good in his life than remember the past. In fact holding Diana puts him at peace. Quieting his mind in ways normally only you can.

“Maybe she’s good for more than just throwing up and making a mess.” Logan jokes and you lightly hit his arm.

“Shut up you love her.” He stares at her sleeping face.

She’s looks so peaceful. He does love her. So much. So much that it scares him. What if she grows up and thinks he’s a monster? What if he fucks up somewhere and ruins his perfect girls life? As far as he’s concerned everything he touches gets ruined. He still wakes up in disbelief that you’re by his side everyday.

“Okay Princess, we need to get you back to bed.” You try and take her our of his arms but he pulls back.

“No.” He holds her protectively to his chest. A flash of anger in his eyes fades as soon as it comes.

“I’m sorry. I. I just need a little longer.” He feels guilty for snapping but you understand.

You sit on the floor and rest your head on his lap. He doesn’t even try to tell you to go back to bed because he knows you won’t listen. So he sits back and watches his girl for a little longer.

His perfect family.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #worst!logan howlett x reader #dad!logan howlett

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misspygmypie · 4 months ago

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Baby Duties

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x Baby Maebry Words: 1380 Request: By @yourfavantihero: Can I suggest an idea? What about one where Lando does his dad duties for newborn Maebry and Noah wants to help him AND by Anon: can we get something with noah and maebry together please? maybe lando overhears him talking to her, idk, just him being a cute big brother!

Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Lando had just finished preparing a bottle for his daughter when he heard the familiar patter of small feet racing down the hallway. A few short moments later Noah skidded into the kitchen with his favorite toy car tucked under his arm. “Dad, can I help with Maebry today?”

“Of course,” Lando slightly chuckled at his son’s eagerness, “I’d love your help. How about you start by picking out a nice outfit for Maebry?”

Noah’s face lit up with a grin as he darted toward the dresser in Maebry’s room. He pulled open the drawer and sifted through the neatly folded clothes, his small hands carefully selecting a soft pink onesie with ruffles just as his father came into the room. “How about this one, dad? I remember when mommy and I bought it at the baby store!”

“Great choice, buddy, but let’s feed her first,” Lando settled into the rocking chair with her, gently cradling her in his arms. Noah stood by, his face a mix of curiosity and determination. “Can I hold the bottle for Maebry?” he asked, his voice filled with hope.

Lando smiled warmly when he got an idea. “How about we practice holding the bottle with Maebry on your lap?”

He got back up and then carefully guided Noah to sit down in the rocking chair, making sure he was settled and relaxed. Then, Lando gently placed Maebry into the boy’s lap, positioning her so that she was cradled securely.

“Okay, Noah,” Lando said, “now let’s get the bottle ready. I’ll show you how to hold it just right.”

Lando took the bottle and demonstrated, positioning it at a slight angle. “You want to hold the bottle like this,” he explained, “so that Maebry can drink comfortably.”

Noah watched intently as Lando held the bottle. “Like this?” he asked, adjusting his grip to mimic his father’s demonstration.

“Exactly,” Lando encouraged. “Now, you can hold it gently but firmly. Make sure to hold her.”

Noah adjusted his grip, holding the bottle with care and his sister’s little mouth found the nipple and she began to drink eagerly. Noah’s eyes widened with delight as he watched her.

“She’s drinking! Dad, I’m doing it,” Noah said, his voice filled with excitement.

“You’re doing an amazing job, Noah. It’s important to be gentle and patient. You’re a natural at this.”

Maebry continued to drink and Lando took the opportunity to share more tips with Noah. “You see how Maebry is looking at you? Babies are very perceptive. They can sense the love and care you give them. Just keep talking to her and being gentle.”

Noah’s face glowed with pride as he talked softly to Maebry. “Hi, Maebry. I’m Noah. I’m going to tell you all about my favorite car races and soon we can play together!”

“You’re doing so well, Noah,” Lando watched the interaction between his kids. “And when Maebry gets a bit older, she’ll love hearing all your stories. You’re helping her now and that’s a special thing.”

Once Maebry had finished her bottle, Lando gently took her from Noah’s lap and held her close while carrying her to the changing table. Noah followed closely behind, still watching his now awake and blinking baby sister and a few moments later he handed his dad the onesie he had picked out.

Lando skillfully dressed Maebry and Noah watched with intense concentration, his tiny fingers occasionally reaching out to touch his sister’s tiny toes or smooth her hair. “She’s so tiny,” he said, his voice full of wonder.

Lando chuckled softly. “She is, isn’t she? And you’re doing a fantastic job helping her get ready.”

Once Maebry was dressed Lando smiled at the sight and said, “You know, Noah, I think Maebry would look even cuter with some socks and a bow. What do you think? Do you want to put them on?”

Noah nodded and quickly went back over to her dresser and pulled out a pair of white socks and a white bow to complete her little outfit. First, Noah carefully slipped the soft socks onto Maebry’s tiny feet, making sure they were snug but not too tight. He giggled as he admired how cute they looked. “Maebry’s feet look like little marshmallows, so cute and squishy!”

Lando started to giggle at the comparison and watched his son gently placing the small bow on Maebry’s head, adjusting it to sit just right. He stepped back and beamed at his work. “She looks so pretty, Dad, I think she loves it!”

Lando smiled and ruffled Noah’s hair. “You’ve done an amazing job. Maebry looks like a little princess.”

As they finished up, Maebry stirred slightly, her tiny fingers reaching out as if to grasp the love and care surrounding her. Noah watched with a soft smile as his baby sister started to laugh and blow tiny bubbles.

The afternoon wore on and Lando and Noah decided it was time for some play. Lando set up a cozy play area on the floor with a colorful mat and a few soft toys. Noah eagerly scooted over, settling beside Maebry. “Dad, can I show Maebry my favorite toy car?” he asked.

Lando nodded, amused. “Sure, Noah. Just make sure you’re gentle and let her see the toy without getting too close.”

Noah carefully rolled his toy car back and forth, making sure Maebry could see the bright colors and hear the gentle sounds. “Look, Maebry! This is my racing car. It goes super fast and one day you’ll be able to play with it too!”

Maebry’s eyes followed the toy car with fascination and Noah’s excitement grew by the minute. He continued to talk to her, recounting stories of imaginary races and making up adventures for the car.

When it was time for Maebry’s nap Noah carefully tucked her in the soft, pastel blankets, arranging them just right. His face was full of concentration, his love for his sister evident in every small gesture.

When Maebry woke for another feeding, Noah was quick to fetch a fresh bottle from the kitchen, his little feet padding down the hall with purpose. “Here’s the bottle, Dad,” he said, handing it over with a proud smile.

“Thanks, Noah. You’ve been such a great helper today.”

Noah’s chest puffed out with pride. “I like helping you with Maebry. It’s fun and I can’t wait to do even more tomorrow.”

As evening settled in, Lando and Noah relaxed in the living room, Maebry contentedly asleep in her crib nearby. Noah snuggled up beside his dad, his eyes sleepy but happy. “Today was the best, Dad. I think Maebry likes me being her big brother.”

“I know she does, Noah,” Lando agreed and wrapped an arm around the boy. “You’ve been wonderful with her today and I’m so proud of you.”

Later that evening, after Maebry was put down into her crib for the night, Noah stood next to her, his gaze soft. He began to talk to her, his voice gentle and soothing. “Hi, Mae, it’s Noah. I just wanted to tell you how much I love you. I can’t wait to show you all of my toys and play with you when you’re bigger and tell you all about racing. You’re my little sister and I’m going to take care of you.”

Lando stood in the doorway, his heart melting as he watched Noah interact with her. The sight of his son speaking so tenderly to his baby sister filled him with so much love and he couldn’t have been any prouder of his son at that moment.

Noah continued to chat with Maebry for a little while before he turned around. He walked up to his dad and gave him a tight hug before looking back at the crib once more before leaving the room with Lando, who gently placed a hand on Noah’s shoulder, slowly guiding the boy into his own bedroom.

As Lando tucked Noah into bed, he looked down at his son with a loving smile. “I’m so proud of how you’ve helped and cared for her today. Thank you for being such a great big brother. Maebry is so lucky to have you.”

“And I’m lucky to have her. I can’t wait for all the fun we’ll have together.”

________

AN: I have no idea if any of this makes sense, I don't know how to take care of a baby LOL But I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

Taglist: @eloriis @pacifierbby @landossainz @littlegrapejuice @barcelonaloverf1life @poppyflower-22 @itsjustfranzi @vickykazuya @sltwins

#lando imagine #lando norris imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #lando angst #lando x noah #lando x maebry

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delphi-shield · 4 months ago

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kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet.

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item.

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale.

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different.

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her?

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out.

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those.

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder.

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then.

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head.

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job.

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do– do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x you #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfic #resident evil imagine

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