#Babysitter AU

[mamiya-a]

The babysitter, Eva and Eveline doing 'hear me out' cake trend and the babysitter can't miss the opportunity to put a horrific picture of Miranda (probably taken while the poor woman was sleeping) as her first proposal.

Meanwhile the reaction of the girls:

"THAT'S OUR MOM?"

(bonus points if later the babysitter is obligated to explain what a 'hear me out' cake is to Miranda, granny can't keep up with them internet jokes)

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting 

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself 

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼 

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer. 

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was. 

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal. 

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough  testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far. 

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.” 

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft. 

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji. 

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin. 

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more? 

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any  7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story. 

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was. 

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad. 

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it. 

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.” 

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them. 

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood. 

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m 

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly. 

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you. 

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething 

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up. 

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of  1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them. 

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena. 

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games. 

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast. 

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up. 

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them. 

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet. 

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off. 

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight. 

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time 

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue. 

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath. 

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm. 

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet. 

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time 

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you? 

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it. 

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty. 

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to. 

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue. 

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you. 

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.” 

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough. 

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad. 

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you. 

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable. 

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest. 

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.   

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him. 

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking. 

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

.

.

.

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

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@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

[xoxojuyo]

Nanny | jjk (m)

✦ summary: you take a babysitting job for the wealthy Jeon family, one night you get to see Mr. Jeon in the kitchen, finding him much more attractive in person than in photos. Despite his seemingly disinterest in you, he comes to you one night, summoning you to his studio.

✦rating: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

✦ pairing: dilf!Jungkook + f!reader

✦ warnings: married!jungkook, dad!jungkook, he is a father of two, older!jungkook, power imbalance relationship, he is your boss’s husband, mistress!reader, cheater!jungkook, swearing, kissing, boob play, finger licking, slight choking, fingering, degradation, penetrative s3x, no mentions of contraceptive use, he cums inside.

✦word count: 3.5K

✦a/n: this is written in first person, oopsie. hope you enjoy.

The clock indicates 9PM as I tiptoed out of the children's room, my steps light and cautious, mindful not to wake the little ones. I was the Jeon’s trusted babysitter.

My sister worked as Mrs. Jeon personal trainer. The woman would spend her whole day at the country club, pilates in the morning, then tennis and swimming lessons at the afternoon. She spent zero time with the kids, she is finally home after 7pm, but it was almost like she warded off her kids, I’m convinced she hates interacting with them, at nights she went to her room or to the patio to have dinner while FaceTiming an unknown man, that was my second hint that she could be cheating on Mr. Jeon, actually at that point I was pretty convinced. She went out with her friends during the weekend nights, going on clubs, bars or some girls night, she always had a plan, some days she wouldn’t come back until Monday morning, with her hair tangled and unkempt, pumps off and a dry colorless face.

She had fired the previous babysitter after she found out she was stealing some of the kids clothing and selling them online, she was an old lady who pretended to be a retired and experienced children psychologist, Mrs. Jeon never cared enough to read her resume, turns out she wasn’t, and it only took the effort of googling her name to find news about her other scams on rich families pretending to be a kind babysitter, and not only she was stealing the kids’ clothes, also Mrs. Jeon’s jewels.

Shortly after she hired a young kindergarten teacher, only lasted a week. Mrs. Jeon thought she was too flirty when she greeted her husband, truth is she never saw them interact, it might be the fact that the girl had a rising onlyfans page that Mrs. Jeon found about because the gardener had recognized her, and also because she was an impolite vegan, the girl demanded rudely to the chef to make her a special vegan meal, so Mrs. Jeon told her to not come back the next day.

Once the door clicked softly shut behind me, I let out a quiet sigh of relief. Babysitting could be exhausting, but I cherished these moments of tranquility after the children had drifted off to dreamland. I made my way to the cozy living room, settled onto the plush sofa, eager to enjoy a few moments of relaxation.

My sister received a call for help from Mrs. Jeon. Desperate because if she didn’t find a new babysitter before the kids finished their school day she had to stay with them for the rest of the day. My sister said she sounded as if someone had died, in complete panic. I got my sister’s call for help, she wanted to be in her boss’ good side and also to get my ass out of the couch once and for all.

I had just graduated, and conveniently unemployed. I had tried my luck in a big city, completely failed and had to return home. Had been rotting in my family home for almost a month until my sister told me she had a job opportunity for me.

- Just focus on taking care of the kids, don’t engage with the male employees on the house, she will think you are fucking them, she hates sharing her men. And if you get to see Mr. Jeon when he arrives early from work just say good night without making eye contact, no more exchange, understood?

In fact, I had never seen Mr. Jeon in person. There were huge family pictures all around the house walls, and small frames on the shelves that portrayed his beautiful face.

Mr. Jeon is a handsome man, with youthful features and athletic physique. From chatting with the maids I learned that he goes jogging at 6 AM, to the gym at 7, has breakfast at 8, then heads to work until 9 to 10 at night when he arrives home, takes a shower and goes to bed.

As weeks went by, my love for the kids grew, just as much as my curiosity for their gorgeous father.

The couple didn’t share a room, in fact, apparently they hated each other. They were a happy pair until she was “forced” to bare his children. Both families had agreed to unite in all aspects including business, but the warranty was to have at least one male that would take over everything one day. They did, the youngest of the two children was a beautiful and healthy boy, but Mrs. Jeon was left traumatized and deformed after the pregnancies, which caused the fall of their successful marriage.

Linda, their oldest maid said that it all started even before they got married, because both were compulsive cheaters that enjoyed to have interaction with people bellow their status, such as maids, trainers, secretaries, drivers, bodyguards, etc.

As I reached for a book from the nearby shelf, I heard a faint rustling sound coming from the kitchen. I paused, my heart skipping a beat. Perhaps it was just the house settling.

This weekend I had been tasked to stay over and take care of the kids while Mrs. Jeon was on a girls trip to Indonesia, she’s coming back on Monday.

I’d say Mrs. Jeon trusted me, I was her beloved personal trainer’s sister and I’ve been doing a good job taking care of the kids, acted as if the chef, the gardener, the drivers and the new pastry cook didn’t exist. She was happy with my work.

Her instructions were to just normally complete my Friday - Saturday routine with the kids, but to stay over to keep an eye on them at night, she didn’t trust the maids, one time she had a nightmare in which they all grabbed forks to kill them and fed her a broth made with their bones, ever since she’s been paranoid, she says they hate her so much she believes they are capable of doing it.

It was Friday night, the kids already asleep, I would usually go home after this, but I had to sleep on one of the guest rooms to check on the kids, and Saturday morning prepare them for their swimming lesson and entertain them for the rest of the day.

But then I heard it again, unmistakably—a soft shuffling, like footsteps moving across the tiled floor. My breath caught in my throat as I debated whether to investigate or retreat to the safety of the children's room. The staff had already ended their activities, they were all supposed to be in their chambers.

Summoning courage, I rose from the sofa and tiptoed towards the kitchen, my pulse quickening with each step. The dim light from the living room cast eerie shadows against the walls, adding to the sense of uneasiness that gripped me.

Peering cautiously around the corner, My eyes widened in astonishment. Standing in the center of the kitchen was a figure—Mr. Jeon, very alive and kicking.

He was so much more handsome in person, an unreal beauty. Blazer and tie off, sleeves up his elbows revealed his tattoos, they covered his whole right arm and hand, first three buttons undone letting me see part of his chest, he was bulked. A piercing adorning his lower lip, another on his right eyebrow, a couple more on his ears.

I had heard he did that to his body after he found out guys with piercings and tattoos gave Mrs. Jeon the ick. Apparently he really wanted her away from him.

- Who are you? He asked confused, looked like he already had a few drinks, was peering at the fridge looking for a beer.

- The babysitter.

- What happened to Ms. Barlowe? he asked while opening the beer can and pouring it in a glass.

- She was fired two months ago. I tried to respond as concisely as possible, but this man was making me feel things that would put this job on risk. He liked getting inside the staff’s panties? Then he could take me right here.

- What’s your name? How old are you?

- y/n, hadn’t you heard it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age. I’m old enough.

- Old enough? For what? He chuckled.

- To be your children’s babysitter. I said jokingly, nothing matters anymore, this man has me on my knees acting all flirty.

- Once we had a 16 year old. He said looking at me, taking a sip of his beer.

- Not that young, more like old enough to buy alcohol all that stuff. I said while looking down at my feet, shyness taking over me all of a sudden, I shouldn’t have said anything.

- Are you staying the night?

- Yes, I have to keep an eye on the kids while your wife is away.

- Then I’ll see you around doll, I need a shower. He winked and walked to leave the kitchen, when he passed by me he patted the top of my head.

What?! The nickname got me all confused and flustered, but then the way he touched my head, was it all in a “oh how cute” way? Or a “let’s fuck till daylight”?

I stood there, still processing the whole conversation we had, now I feel embarrassed.

Headed directly to the guest bedroom and took a shower too. I felt so hot, cheeks red and teary eyes. Got my pajamas on, don’t I own a prudish set? Pair of pants and an oversized tee. If he were to walk into the room and saw me wearing this, I bet he would laugh.

Of course I couldn’t sleep a wink. Thinking the hot man was somewhere under the same roof. Foolishly kept imagining things, the way his hands would feel against my skin, his big hands around my throat, long fingers inside my pussy. Oh god!

The mere three or four hours of sleep I got, I slept them like a dog, after about three orgasms I achieved by rubbing my clit. It felt awful afterwards. He was a married man after all, he didn’t love his wife but they were together, he got two children who I adored and spent a lot of time with.

Mr. Jeon would never look at me like that anyways, I bet he had a bunch of women already. Models, celebrities, escorts.

Saturday morning I had breakfast with the kids, I usually arrive after they had finished. Once done we head upstairs to get ready for their swimming lesson. They had a private instructor every Saturday to teach them how to swim, I sat on one of the pallets by the pool.

After the lesson ended, the kids wanted to stay and keep playing in the pool, it was a hot day since summer was around the corner.

- Pleaseee! You can grab one of mom’s swimsuits. The oldest daughter insisted I should join them on their little chasing game inside the water.

- I’d like to but it’s almost lunchtime and then we have things to do remember? You wanted to go to the supermarket and buy snacks. I insisted that it wasn’t a good idea, even though I really wanted to jump into the fresh water, but maybe it would seem shameless.

I ended up getting in. One of the maids brought me one of the many Mrs. Jeon’s bikinis, she told me she grabbed it from a big bag full of clothing she was about to throw away. It was a tiny black Valentino bikini with a white outline.

We played for a while and then got out to have lunch, we sat in the outdoor dining table, all soaked, the tips of our fingers wrinkled from spending too much time on the water.

And then he comes out from inside the house, wearing a black polo shirt tucked in a pair of navy blue jeans, black Saint Laurent sunglasses. He took them out and looked at me from head to toe, licking his lips.

Was he home the whole time?! I’ve never ran into him on Saturdays. I was standing up beside the table, opening a can of sprite for the youngest son.

The kids waved at his father and continued eating, he gave each a kiss on their forehead and stood in front of me.

- When is my mother supposed to pick them up? He said, head lowered to look at me in the eyes.

- Tomorrow morning.

- I’ll tell her to take them today, have everything ready. He said putting his glasses on and heading to the garage.

I’m already imagining things, foolishly thinking he might have a hidden intention to ask his mother to take the kids early, maybe all he wants is my ass out of his house and I’m here all nervous believing he might want some alone time to fuck my brains out, very unlikely.

Once the kids were gone I went to my room, packed everything. I was meant to leave after the grandma took the children TOMORROW, now they are gone and I’m confused on what should I do.

More like expecting Mr. Jeon to come home and…

Toc, toc, toc.

He opened the door and looked at me sitting on the edge of the bed.

- On my studio, in five. He said and quickly closed the door and left.

What the fuck?!

I was almost having a panic attack before I knocked his studio door three times. I decided to change into a white tank top, no bra, white cotton panties and a pair of blue stripped pants, what I had intended to wear tomorrow.

Heard a small come in, and opened the door to enter.

He was sitting in a grey loveseat, manspreading, left hand on his crotch, right holding a cigarette between his lips, such a breathtaking view.

- Come sit with me. He ordered patting the couch.

I walked slowly, still shaking from the nervousness. Sat next to him, hands and eyes on my tights, I couldn’t look at him.

- Is this what you want? He took my hand with both of his, which made me look at his face. He was waiting for an answer.

- What do you mean? Of course I knew what he meant, I guess I just wanted to hear him say it to be sure.

- Do you want me to fuck you? Here, right now?

Yes.

He grabbed my face by my chin and pressed his lips against mine. He let me set the pace at first. His lips were soft, breath tasted like tobacco. I could feel how at times he was struggling not to kiss me harder.

So I let him slide his tongue inside my mouth. He grabbed my hips to place me on his lap, groaning at the feeling of my covered pussy on top of his crotch. He bit and dragged my lower lip, his kisses started to descend from my chin to my neck.

- From the first moment I saw you, your eyes were pleading me to fuck you, then I saw you in that tiny bikini, so naughty.

My pussy was throbbing, his words and his desperate kisses against my skin had me drunk in pleasure already.

He took the hem of my top to remove it, tits bounced right in front of his eyes. He chuckled and looked at me with a smirk, grabbed them with his huge hands, caressing them as if they were two stress balls. With his thumb, he started rubbing my nipples, eyes on mine the whole time.

- You like that princess?

I was a moaning mess, nodded and arched my back. It felt so good, a numbing sensation right into my pussy hole, soaking wet.

He left my nipples to grab my buttocks, automatically started to rub myself on his bulge. He closed his eyes and moaned, then kissed my lips hungrily. Grabbed my waist and helped me pace my movements, he laid back on the couch, locking his eyes to mine.

I stood up to remove my pants, once off he grabbed my hips and sat me on his lap, this time my back against his chest. His rough hands start to brush my body, from my breasts to my stomach.

- Open your legs princess. Obeying immediately to his command, I was already desperate for his touch down there, couldn’t help but to feel powerless under his touch.

I whimpered as I felt his hands pushing my panties to the side, and started to stroke my clit. He then took his fingers to my entrance only to remove them quickly. I moaned and turned my head to look at him in disbelief. He brings his fingers up to my mouth, coated with my juices.

- Lick them.

I slowly wrapped my lips around his long fingers, doe eyes staring at his while circling my tongue against his digits. Spit dripping from my chin and his hands, such a filthy sight. He then removed them from my mouth producing a popping sound.

He took those two fingers down my pussy again, inserted them into my pulsing hole. His hands are skilled, every move he makes hits the right spot, I dropped my head back in pleasure and let out an embarrassingly loud moan, he started kissing my neck, sucking and licking.

- Such a filthy whore, you like my fingers? He said with a deep voice, groaning in my ear. His eyes were fixed in my pussy the whole time, he seemed to enjoy watching his fingers going in and out of my hole.

He had been fingering me for a while, when I felt that familiar response down my pussy, a numbing sensation signaling my orgasm was close to take place.

Jungkook thrusted and curled his fingers hitting the right spot with insane accuracy each time. His cock throbbed underneath me, my thighs trembled as I tried to keep them spreaded. The sight spurred him on as he added another finger, I groaned loudly at the stretch he was now giving me with three fingers.

- Come on baby, cum all over my hand. He mumbled against my ear. It didn’t take long for my release to come. Jungkook groaned, shifting his hips to get some friction himself as he helped you ride it out.

He laid me against the couch before his mouth littered hot kisses across my chest only pausing when he felt my fingers delicately trail along the waistband of his pants, looking forward to undo the button. Jungkook met my gaze with a smirk on his lips.

- Please sir, can I have your cock now? I asked, my eyes innocently blinked up at him. Jungkook groaned at my words, he felt himself twitch desperately against his cotton prison as he looked at my doe expression patiently waiting for him. He gently pushed me on the soft silk couch before beginning to free himself. His cock slapped against his stomach, pre cum already leaking from the tip which he used as lubricant as he gave himself a few pumps.

My legs automatically opened for him to slot himself in between. I felt his tip prod at my entrance, he began to rub, coating his hard dick with my juices. Jungkook sunk himself into my throbbing heat. He started off at a slow pace, kissing my neck softly. Once he felt me clench him, Jungkook started to move faster.

My moans caused him to thrust harder as he found himself wanting to draw more of them out of my pretty lips. It didn’t take long for me to become cockdrunk as I clutch at his forearms, the intense arousal forming again in your stomach. Jungkook felt his balls tighten at my chants.

- Fuck! Yeah sir fuck me harder, I love how your cock feels inside me. My words spurring him to drive himself deeper inside me. My eyes rolled back and my body went limp in his arms as I came for the second time that night. My body was sensitive as he kept thrusting through My orgasm trying to chase his own. He watched my eyes roll as I let him continue to use me like the a slut.

- Oh my god! Sir, please cum inside me, I want your cum inside my pussy. My willingness to submit to him caused his hips to sputter and coat my walls. I could feel his cum warming me from the inside causing me to smile at the feeling of being full of the essence of my boss’s husband. The action solidified the new dynamic between the two of us.

Jungkook pulled his softening cock out of me gently, I heard him get off the couch and leave the room to get a wet cloth to help clean up the mess in between my legs. I snuggled my head into the pillows behind.

- You did so good for me baby, was this okay? Is this what you need? Jungkook asked, sitting next to me on the couch. He moved some hairs away from my face and began stroking my cheek awaiting a response.

- I loved it, thank you sir. I spoke with a soft smile. Jungkook’s helped me slip into the comfort of the bedding in the guest room, he laid in the bed scooping me into his embrace. I laid on his chest whilst he stroked my back, lulling me to sleep with his actions and for the first time I slept peacefully in the embrace of my new lover.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 1

Summary: You were supposed to be living a normal life. Perfect boyfriend, just graduated college, and ready to start your new life. Until you met him. Brooding and imposing unless his daughter is around. You knew nothing about babies, but he knew less. Tension builds, feelings flare up, but are they just because he looks extremely sexy when he's soft? Could it be because you are falling for this princess of a baby girl before him? Is it because when he's in town you're too close? The money is good, and yet his attention is better.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.1K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd scowls as he watches the scene in front of him. The crease between his brows is extra deep. He hates working in the field almost as much as he hates watching it. Idiots. He was surrounded by incompetent idiots.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” His fist slams on the table. How many shots have to be fired before they secure their target. “He’s right fucking there! Shoot his ass!”

“Lloyd,” a timid man says behind him, and Lloyd’s eyes never leave the monitors. “Mr. Hansen?”

“I don’t want to do this myself, but I fucking will! Levinson, get ready to go!” More rounds of bullets, and still the target was missed. “What the fuck is this?”

“Lloyd!”

His body goes rigid as he turns to look at the small man who is shivering. Eyes downcast to the floor so he doesn’t look at the towering man. “Why the hell are you addressing me?”

“We have a problem.”

“No, shit, Sherlock. I have two teams of mercenaries after one target, and he’s not been shot. What the fuck else could be wrong?” He leans over a bit looking at the man. “Well?”

“Who the hell brought a baby?” Ari asks, staring down at a pitiful little carrier. An envelope beside the small bundle, and her bright green eyes stare up at the large man. “This isn’t bring your daughter to work day,” her face cracks a moment as she searches his face. Lips puckering out before a scream radiates through the makeshift office. “Make it stop!”

“Where the fuck did a baby come from?” Lloyd snaps a finger at another man to take over the original issue at hand. He just needs the target killed, and he can go home for a bit. “What is this?”

Ari’s hands slap on the side of his head covering his ears, but his foot tilts the carrier to rock it a bit, but still she wails. Seeing how no one attempts to help out, or get the baby to stop, Lloyd assumes this is something he’s going to have to take care of. What else was new? Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he leans down to grab up the letter. Crumpling it up before looking down at the baby. “Mother fucker.”

Your fingers run over the empty shelves in your dorm room. Graduation has finally happened, and now it is time to leave your mark on the world. Your father didn’t bother to show up for your graduation because why would he? He never showed up personally in your life. Not really. He always made sure that everything was paid for though. It could be worse, right?

You try not to complain about your father, or your family. You had more than most and should be grateful. But then some people had attention. Sighing, you grab up your bag, and look towards the door.

“Chase,” whispering, you walk over to him, and lay your head on his chest. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I don’t know why you feel so attached to this dorm room, honey.”

“Because it was my home,” you’re sure he didn’t fully understand, which was okay, you never bothered to explain. You kept your family dynamics quiet. He never asked why you were so quick to visit with his family for the holiday, just enjoyed you being there.

His warm arms wrap around you, and he holds you in a tight embrace. He wasn’t quite comfort, but he is sweet. He means well, and did what he could for the information that you provided to him. But this dorm room was the closet you had to a home. You had good memories here. Friends that were more like family, and now it’s gone.

You groan when the stupid sound of your absent father’s ringtone sounds off. Maybe he is actually calling to congratulate you for wasting his money on a degree that he deemed pointless. He. It probably wouldn’t matter what you did, it’d never be good enough for him.

“You gonna get that?”

“Do I have to?” You complain looking up at Chase. His mouth lifts to the side, and he nods his head. He is right. You should talk to him and quit hiding. You didn’t know what he was going to say or do. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”

“So the kid is yours?” Ari looks down at the car seat, watching the little baby cry, no one attempting to soothe or comfort her. Lloyd squats down and rubs his thumb over her cheek, and she struggles to breathe from her tears. “Are you going to hold it?”

“Can you stop referring to my daughter like she’s a thing?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Ari answers sarcastically. “Then pick her up. What is her name?”

“Clara told me to name her. She didn’t bother naming her. What…what do I do?” He looks up at his friend, showing the tiniest bit of emotion. “I don’t know anything about babies.”

“Start by holding her.”

“You hold her,” Lloyd is a lot of things but nurturing is far from one of them. He was a man that didn’t make mistakes, but clearly, he messed up somewhere. Of all the women he had been with only one was he stupid enough to knock up. But the way Lloyd is staring at her would suggest he almost wanted a baby.

“This is so fuck…this is so stupid. Clean up your mouth. She isn’t old enough to talk yet, but she will be,” Ari gets down to his knees, starting to remove the straps over her body. “She’s a pitiful little thing. Shh, girlie, you’re scaring your daddy before he’s properly got to look at you. There ya go,” he coos, holding the tiny girl up against his chest. Her cries soften a bit. He wonders when the last time she felt loved, because her body moves around feeling more of him.

“What’s wrong with her?” Both Ari and Lloyd’s noes turn up in disgust as they smell her. “She’s not been bathed?”

“That’s poop, Lloyd. We can’t have a baby here,” that is something Ari is certain of. Not only was this not a place for babies, he didn’t want to have to smell the baby smells.

“I didn’t ask for the baby. She was dropped on the mother fucking steps. Clara. I’ll kill that dumb trollop. Never trust desperate women. She doesn’t want money. She just didn’t want the baby. And I need her to have a name, so I’m not just calling her the baby. Ari, name her.”

“I’m not naming your spawn. She’s born of you, you name her. And my god, you gotta change this diaper, and figure out what you’re going to do in order for us to not have to deal with a baby like this. What the hell do you want?”

Lloyd turns to look at one of the analysts standing in the doorway. His thick rimmed glasses, and quiet demeanor made him one of Lloyd’s favorites. He was trustworthy, and smart. Quick. One of the few people Lloyd didn’t want to strangle. “Roman, what do you need? We’re dealing with someone.”

“You need an au pair.”

“What the hell is that?”

“It…it’s someone that will live in your home, and care for the child. They could teach them another language, and…”

“Sounds like a wife. Do I get to fuck them? Does she talk back to me?” Roman shakes his head no, wanting to say more, but doesn’t want to risk his job. He had the perfect person to help Lloyd with his little problem. “Where does one find an au pair?”

“I know someone that just recently graduated, and she speaks French. She has a degree in art history, and…”

“I need her at my house immediately,” Roman acts as if he’s about to say something until Lloyd cocks up a brow, “I will pay her handsomely.”

“You’re keeping the baby?” Ari’s answer comes in the form of Lloyd reaching towards the baby. Turning up his nose at the stench, but he holds her gently. Tenderly. He gives her a quick peck on her head. “He’s keeping the baby. Roman, call whoever. Sounds like the amount of money is not an issue.”

Staring up at the posh apartment buildings, and squeezing Chase’s hand, you wonder how you even got here. Your father didn’t do anything but give you money. You didn’t even know him. Didn’t know what he even did to make the money. And now you are taking orders from him. Allowed him to make you feel like shit for your education.

“You don’t have to listen to him,” Chase says calmly. Slipping his hand out of yours, he turns to look directly at you. “You’re a grown woman, you don’t have to listen to what daddy says.”

“Don’t call him that,” your father didn’t earn that name. That’s exactly what you called him, father. “I mean look at it, there could be worse places to live.”

“Yeah, and you’re caring for a child that isn’t yours. And where’s her parents? How often will you have this child?”

“I’m going to live with them.”

“That’s another thing, I don’t exactly like the idea that you live with them. Who are them?”

“It’s a need to know basis,” you mumble. Finally finding your footing you take a step forward. It was now or never and it seemed like it was going to be now. What did you actually have to lose? This was a guaranteed job. It’s not like you had to stay. The pay was great. And how hard could one baby be?

You were going into this job with a house, great pay, and it seemed somewhat cushy. “You’re just going to be giving another child a life without their parents.”

“And just think where I would have been without my nanny,” you spit out, feeling a bit more protective of a child that you haven't met. It wasn’t her fault anymore than it was yours. Children should be loved and taken care of, and that’s what you are going to do.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t. You don’t have to go with me if you don’t approve,” sighing, Chase follows you as you walk into the building. Following the exact instructions you were given from your father. You didn’t know what you were walking into. It was just a job after all.

Neither you or Chase say another thing. He definitely could feel your irritation at the need to insert what he thought he knew about your life. Your life wasn’t horrible. You just didn’t have your parents. Especially not your father. He had a business. And whatever he did afforded you a charmed life.

Seems like this child was getting the same treatment. And if you could give her the life that your amazing nanny gave you, then you feel like you’re giving it back. You didn’t see yourself as a teacher, but maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. And it was just one small baby. Eventually she would be going to school, and that’s if you even stayed that long.

Attention was everything when it came to children. If you said no, and this was apparently an emergency, what would happen to this child? Every child deserves a good life.

You don’t fully bother knocking on the door. Just punch in the code to the apartment, and Chase tugs at your arm. He isn’t as comfortable with this as you are. Your father gave you the code, Lloyd didn’t want you to knock, he wants you to make yourself comfortable. Your eyes go wide as you look around.

You could see the house at one point was pristine, but now it’s chaotic. Empty boxes are everywhere, but all of them seem to be items for the child. Your father told you she was a baby, but not how new she was. Tiptoeing deeper into the apartment, Chase pulls you back into him.

“Announce yourself. This is weird.”

“Mr. Hansen?” The sweetest little baby gurgle comes from the next room, and you look up at Chase. “That’s a real baby, handsome. Can I go meet my employer now?”

“I’m right here. Scream if you need me.”

“Mr. Hansen?” You ask again, looking into the first room. It is an even bigger disaster. Stuff was everywhere. The room has so much potential, but why does everything seem new? “Mr. Hansen, do you need help?”

He needs a lot of help. Could barely tend to his own child. His movements seem very rigid and unsure of himself. “Yeah, I think she peed. She has on the diapers that change color when wet, but…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I babysat a few times,” it’s a bit of a stretch. They weren’t babies. But you’ve seen some movies. Read some things, “Let me see. Hey there, cutie,” she looks like she could break hearts. She is angelic. Chubby little legs, and the biggest dimples in her cheeks. Completely toothless with the prettiest bright green eyes and long lashes. “I think you’ve overwhelmed your daddy. Did you recently just get custody?”

There had to be a reason for this mess. But he went and spent a ton of money trying to give his daughter everything she needed and could ever want. “I just recently found out about her,” that took an unexpected turn. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have the time to really devote to her, but I don’t want her to do without, and…I’m in over my head.”

So he was a bit like your father. But he seems to currently be more hands on than your father was. It was cute, in a completely not weird way at all. Lloyd was older than you. A full grown man while you had only just graduated college. “I’m not an interior designer, but I know some. The apartment is a mess, I’m aware. Lyla needs so much, and this place was just here. I never took the time to do anything. So me and my partner ordered everything we could think of. I don’t think she needs everything we got, but she could. She has her bed, and her diapers, and there’s a box of formula and food in the kitchen. Her food should be there, right? I don’t think she plays with toys yet, but there’s some somewhere.”

“Is this a Dior stroller?”

“I was told it was a pram,” you stare at him, trying not to giggle. The fact that it was Dior was the more silly part. “I can’t do what I do and have her there it’s dangerous.”

“What do you do?”

“Don’t ask,” the look he gives you makes you take a step back, gawking up at him when you realize his size. He is tall. Arms that are thick and hard as steel. His shoulders are wider than your entire body, “Lyla will be provided for, and because of that so will you. Whatever you need. I’ll leave a card for you. I won’t be able to personally get all your…well, all your needs. So this seems like the best option.”

“My needs? Like food?”

“Uh, I know that you women have things you need,” he’s an idiot. “I’ll give you a check, so this looks legit, but I can provide all your special woman needs,” huge idiot.

“Yeah, I can get my ‘womanly needs’ with my paycheck. Do…how often are you going to be here if I’m living here?”

He puffs out a bit of air, and he fully gives you attention. His daughter now has a changed diaper, and he cradles her sweetly. Some stupid expensive silver teething toy in her mouth, and his eyes roam over your entire body. He’s a bit too handsome to be a father, and one that just so happened to be your employer. His eyes are too blue, and his arms look too thick, and you gulp, clenching your thighs together. What the fuck was this witchcraft?

“Every night if possible. I typically work remotely, but sometimes I do have to go out of the country, and that leads to a few days to a week without me coming home to you and Lyla,” is he smirking? You shouldn’t feel so small and taken aback, but your stomach erupts with annoying butterflies with how hard he’s staring at you.

“Would you like to see your room? It’s next to the baby’s. My bedroom is in the front of the apartment, just off the living room. So I’ll be the first to the door. Absolutely no one in this apartment. I don’t trust people. Especially not around my child, and I guess now you come into my protection. If you need to know the apartment is in another name. I have a tendency to create a lot of enemies, and I try to keep things here as safe as possible.”

Lloyd freezes when he hears Chase sneeze. Handing you the baby, he covers you and her with his body in such a quick motion it takes your breath away. Your loss of breathing had nothing to do with his weight digging into your skin, and you surely don’t let out an odd sound that has him giving you a quick wink.

“That would be my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend? Roman didn’t say anything about a boyfriend.”

“Roman doesn’t even know when my birthday is. Do you have a problem with Chase being here?”

“What kind of name is Chase?” With your free hand, you shove him off you. You didn’t need him that close to you. “Honestly, what kind of name is that? And I said nobody visits.”

“You just told me that. He traveled here with me because he didn’t trust that I was coming to some apartment with some weird man that lured me here under false pretense just so he could murder me.”

“I don’t lure women here. This is a safe space for my daughter. I need you to make him leave,” Lloyd didn’t need to lure women. When he wanted a woman he could have one. And wanting a woman led to him becoming a father.

“But I don’t want to be here alone with a baby that can’t talk,” his eyes narrow at you. It is like you and Lloyd are playing a tit for tat game. Going back and forth of why Chase shouldn’t be here, and why you need him here. “He has a job. He works at an IT firm. Would you really want me here alone and by myself? What if someone comes here to attack me? Then Lyla is left all alone.”

“I’ve taken precautions that this would never happen. When you’re on the clock, Lyla is your only priority,” that made you feel slightly uneasy. You had to make a note to check the neighbors. Getting a feeling that someone was tasked with watching and listening to you and Lyla.

“When am I off the clock?”

“When I am here. Unless,” he gives you that eat shit grin again, shaking his head. Is he actually flirting with you, “I shouldn’t say that, sunshine. So what should Lyla call you? Nanny seems a bit too old and mature for someone sweet like you.”

“Why not my name?” He contemplates that for a moment, looking down at his little baby who stares up at you. If babies could talk, you wonder what she is thinking of.

“Dolly.”

“What?”

“I want her to call you, Dolly. Her Dolly. Ooh, yes, I like that. Let’s see what I should do about this boyfriend,” spinning on his heels Lloyd walks down the hallway, stopping the moment he sees Chase. Your boyfriend stands up immediately, holding out his hand for Lloyd to shake.

“I don’t like you.”

“I’m sorry?” Chase looks towards you holding the baby, and takes a quick gulp. Lloyd’s eyes go between the two of you before sidestepping in front of you. His wide body blocking Chase from looking in your direction. “What is this?”

“Chase, let's get something straight, when I’m not here, Dolly is on the clock.”

“Her name isn’t Dolly.”

“When I’m here, I’ll allow her to come and go as she pleases, but just like Miss Dolly, I need to get a background check on you. I don’t want just anybody to have access to my daughter, and her au pair. And absolutely under no circumstance will you be sleeping under my roof. This is my home, and my daughter’s, and I don’t need stupid boys coming in here and tainting that,” he turns to look at you. Giving you no time at all to process exactly what he is saying. He couldn’t be serious.

“Remember, I own your father. I also own you. I’m offering you money that you can’t refuse because he just cut you off, and you’re used to a certain lifestyle. I’m providing that for you. And I don’t want limp dicks in my home. Have I made myself clear?”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can do whatever I want, Dolly. I’m Lloyd fucking Hansen. If I want to cut every single finger off your father’s hands, I will. You can either have me as your employer or your enemy. And if you walk out that door with that boy, you will be my enemy. I’m not saying you can’t date him, I’m saying I don’t want him in my house or around my daughter. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes,” his head tilts forward, and his piercing blue eyes give you a look. A look you can’t exactly explain, but it makes you feel things. Makes you ready to do whatever it is he told you to do. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Get rid of the boyfriend.”

“But you’re here.”

“And so are you. There’s no need for him to linger around, while you move in. This is just an introduction, sweetheart. I need to walk you through all the boring stuff about your job. I’ll pay you extra if you get Lyla’s bedroom situated. This place is a complete disaster, and I can’t stand it. Get rid of him,” reaching towards Lyla, he walks back down the hallway to her room, and you give Chase an awkward smile.

“Come on, he can find someone else to be the au pair.”

“I need to see this through, Chase,” he tries interrupting you. Like he usually does, but you shake your head. You did need this job. None of the other places you applied at have called you back. “I need this job. It won’t be forever. And once I get settled in, and have my first day off, I’ll spend it with you.”

“You’re really going to let him talk to you like you’re his property?”

“No, I’m not. But I see myself in that little baby, and she needs me. He doesn’t know what to do.”

“Do you?” Nope. You had no idea about babies. You didn’t even have siblings. But your bags that were in Chase’s cars had a few books with some ideas on what to do. You’d figure it out along the way. Plus, you had this odd desire to understand your dad’s job, and also what exactly Lloyd did. How did a man that instilled so much fear in you also have a soft spot for his daughter?

“You’ll call if you want to leave? No questions asked, I’ll come and get you?”

“No questions asked,” you promise, kissing his lips softly. His hands cup your ass, and Lloyd glares at him down the hallway. How did Roman allow you to grow up and be disrespected in a stranger’s home? You allowed him to kiss down your neck, and neither of you even knew he was watching.

Lloyd would never let Lyla be treated like that. He wished he could make her not get any bigger. He liked the idea of having a woman in his home. Even if it wasn’t the way that a traditional family had it, who knew what the future held. You wanted to please him. Even told Chase it was time for him to leave. He still had it.

Chase pulls off your neck, and notices Lloyd watching you. His hands slip into your back pockets, and he gives your ass a bit of a squeeze, “Who’s girl are you?”

“I’m yours, Chase. Now go on, I’ll call you later,” his eyes flick over to Lloyd, who ventures into Lyla’s room. Going to lay her down for her nap as he tries to think of ways to get rid of Chase. He is an asshole. A cocky one at that. Unfortunately he reminded Lloyd of himself. And there is only enough room in your life for one asshole.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @honeyhoneylovelylove

[author-ssi]

Daddy ~KNJ

➜Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

➜Genre: Smut, (Slight) Fluff (in the beginning), One-Shot

Warnings: MAJOR Daddy kink (in case, it wasn't clear already from the title), reader is basically drooling over DILF Namjoon, age gap (Namjoon in his 30s, reader in her 20s), breast play&fingering&praise (Namjoon is an absolute service dom - don't even try to change my mind!), vaginal sex (reader rides Namjoon) [18+ MDNI]

➜Word Count: 3.7k

➜Summary: Namjoon had been searching for someone to care for his son for months and months, to no avail. Until the moment he saw you crouched on the ground, helping his son tie his shoelaces with a smile so pretty on your face. That's when he knew you'd be perfect for him... and, for his son too.

"Seungmin-ah, it's time to go to bed! Come on, sweetie".

If you were keeping count -which you were- that'd be your 5th attempt to usher the cheeky three-year-old over to his room.

"But Koya doesn't want to sleep yet... Look, he is full of energy!".

Seungmin swings the plushie around, almost hitting you in the face with it. You let out a huffed chuckle glancing at the clock on the wall.

It's almost 9 o'clock and he's the one who's full of energy...

You'd expect that after running around and playing with him all afternoon long, by the time his bedtime came, he'd be sleeping like a log.

"I'll tell you and Koya a fairytale so you both can go to sleep".

You pick him up and sit on his bed, laying him down and pulling the blanket over him.

Thankfully, he settles down, cuddling his Koya, close to him.

Taking the book of fairytales from the bed table, you flip over to the page of his favourite, Kongjwi and Patjwi.

... Or as you prefer to call it Korean Cinderella with a twist.

Seungmin claps his little hands excitedly, burying himself further inside his blanket, focusing his attention solely on your words.

Reaching out to offer him an affectionate pat on the head, you begin to recite the fairytale, smiling fondly at the thought of how much your life has changed ever since you got the job of babysitting this adorable little toddler.

~Four Months Ago~

Judging from how hard it had been for you to get an apartment in NYC, you were already prepared to face the same difficulty in finding yourself a job.

Little did you know, it'd be as easy as taking a walk in the park.

Literally!

Walking in the park, that one cloudy afternoon, was all it took for you to run into little Seungmin and his dad.

And oh, his dad...

Mr. Kim Namjoon.

A Korean-American.

CEO of a public education company.

Single father to Kim Seungmin, after his wife left him a year ago and ran off to Europe with another man.

Honestly, who in their right mind would even think about leaving this man for another?!

You still remember how in awe you were upon seeing him...

His tall frame towered over you and his son as he stood above you, clad in a black turtleneck that perfectly highlighted his muscled chest and wide shoulders.

His face bore youthful features and yet his eyes brought out a sense of wisdom and maturity.

The polite smile he wore, not only betrayed the dimple that appeared on his cheek but his refined manners too, as he offered you a hand to help you stand back up.

Looking up at his entrancing eyes, you accepted his hand and slowly rose to your feet.

"Daddy, look!".

The little toddler's voice finally enabled you to tear your gaze away from his father.

Seungmin pointed at his small feet, with a bright smile on his face.

His father furrowed his eyebrows puzzled, which rushed you to explain.

"His, uh, his shoelaces were untied and he was running around...

So I thought I'd tie them for him!

You know, so he wouldn't get hurt-"

"Thank you for doing that".

The man offered your hand a small squeeze in gratitude, before finally introducing himself.

You hadn't even noticed he was still holding your hand!

Hastily returning the handshake, you forced yourself to withdraw your hand introducing yourself as well.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Kim".

It felt proper to address him like that, since he seemed to be quite older than you...

Mr Kim slightly cleared his throat and offered you a small nod before turning to his son.

"Why don't you tell the pretty lady who helped you, your name as well, hm?".

You sucked in a breath and bit your lip in a desperate attempt to hide how much that affected you; a man as handsome as him addressing you as pretty.

Thankfully, the cute toddler in front of you was the perfect way to get your mind off of it as he raised his hand towards you.

"Hi, I am Seungmin!".

You noticed he was offering his hand for you to shake, just like he had seen you do with his father.

"Hi, Seungmin!

It's nice to meet you, I'm Y/N".

You resisted the urge to swoon at the sight of his small hand enveloped in your own.

So cute!

"And what else do you need to say to Y/N?".

"Thank you".

You shook yourself insisting it was nothing and adjusted your back on your shoulder, mentally preparing yourself to bid farewell to the two of them.

"Let me buy you a drink, Y/N; as thanks for helping Seungmin".

Your eyes widened at Mr Kim's unexpected suggestion.

"Oh no, you don't need to do that-".

"I insist".

Well, how could you refuse when he looked at you like that?!

And so, you ended up playing with Seungmin at the playground, while Mr Kim went to get the both of you something to drink.

You were pushing Seungmin on the swings when Mr Kim returned with a hot latte in each hand, offering one for you to drink.

Next thing you knew, you were sitting on a bench with probably the most attractive man you'll ever get the chance to lay your eyes on, drinking your latte and watching over his son continuing to play at the playground.

"Thanks again for helping Seungmin out.

I was too busy talking on the phone...

I should have been keeping an eye on him but work is just-".

He groans in frustration, before letting out a long sigh and turning to you.

"Never mind that now, tell me about you".

You purse your lips in thought, rummaging through your brain in an attempt to find something about you that's interesting enough to share with someone like Mr Kim.

"I'm just a girl, trying to survive college while looking for a job".

You shrug before taking another sip of your latte.

Meanwhile, the moment those words left your mouth, Mr Kim turned to face you with a knowing smile.

"Well, that's a happy coincidence".

And that's when you were offered the job of babysitting Mr Kim's son. And even though, you truly loved looking after little Seungmin, you couldn't help being even more thrilled by the prospect of spending even just a little time around a man like Mr. Kim.

~Present Day~

"And so, the new Mayor married Kongjwi, the owner of the shoe.

Now, you'd think that they got to live happily ever after…

But that's not the end of this story!

Jealous of Kongjwi's happiness, her stepsister Patjwi drowns poor Kongjwi in the stream.

Patjwi then disguises herself as Kongjwi and starts living at the palace as the mayor’s wife.

However, one day Kongjwi appears in her husband's dream and tells him about her tragic fate.

The mayor is shocked to learn this and starts desperately searching for his wife's body.

After months and months of endlessly searching, he manages to discover Kongjwi's body in the stream.

He cries cradling his wife's body close to him before leaning over to offer her a kiss farewell.

Yet, with that kiss, Kongjwi is brought back to life.

Once they both return to the town, the Mayor puts Patjwi and her mother in a dark prison and that's when he and Kongjwi finally live...

Happily ever after!".

You huff merrily closing the book and putting it back to its place before turning to Seungmin.

Alas, the story didn't seem to bring the toddler the drowsiness you'd thought it would, so you decide to simply leave him to play around in his bed hoping that at some point he'll tire himself enough to sleep.

You take the baby monitor with you and walk out of the bedroom, trying hard not to laugh at the kid scolding his plushie for not going to sleep.

Heading over to the kitchen, you start making yourself a warm cup of tea.

After carefully, pouring yourself a cup, you settle on the living room's couch and check the baby monitor sighing in relief when you see that little Seungmin has finally fallen asleep.

As you take a sip of your tea, you open your phone to check your Instagram for any messages.

After replying to your bestie's "where are you?" with a simple "babysitting", you quickly engage in conversation with her since the both of you have nothing better to do right now.

Soon, her texting gives way to an incoming call, which you're more than happy to answer.

Time goes by without you taking notice until you realise that you've finished your tea.

Abandoning your snuggling on the couch, you walk back to the kitchen in order to wash the used kettle and mug, having put the phone on speaker and placed it on the table behind you so as not to get water spilt on it.

"So... Is the Daddy hot?".

You roll your eyes at her sudden, crude question with a slight scoff.

She was never the kind to hold back on those types of conversations and thirsty comments, yet this time you decide to humour her and just play along.

"Well...

Let's just say, I wouldn't mind calling him Daddy too".

You hum cheekily and your best friend gasps.

"That much huh?".

"Oh trust me... He's a Dilf ".

You bite your lip, slightly embarrassed by yourself calling him that.

Your best friend lets out a hum and you're certain she also has a teasing smirk on her face.

"Hmm, no wonder you were so thrilled over a babysitting job".

You shake your head chuckling, as you stretch your body to put the kettle back in its place on the top shelf, before starting to wash your mug next.

"No no, I really love looking after his son. Seungmin's the sweetest!

Having Mr Kim around is just..."

"A bonus".

She finishes your sentence for you, giggling.

"But really, why don't you shoot your shot?

You know, flirt with him, show off your boobies".

Her saucy tone makes you roll your eyes.

"I'm not showing off my boobs to my boss!".

"You were the one who wanted him to be your Daddy...

Anyway, what I'm saying is-".

Waiting a moment or two for her to continue, you place the clean mug in its place.

When she doesn't, you assume that the signal must have been cut off so you wipe your wet hands on a towel before turning around to grab your phone and call her back.

Oh.My.God!

Your eyes almost pop out of your skull and your body freezes on the spot at the sight of none other than Mr. Kim himself leaning against the table where your phone is placed, his hand hovering over its screen.

"M-Mr. Kim! I-I didn't realise you were back home!".

You stumble over your words, feeling your cheeks burn red from the embarrassment.

The only thing that's left for you to do now is hope that he probably hasn't been home long enough to hear the entire conversation, or else you're most definitely fired.

Mr Kim smirks, the amusement clear on his face.

"I thought you'd prefer calling me Daddy".

You gasp, wishing for the earth to open up and swallow you whole right now.

He heard everything right from the start...

Well, there goes your job!

"I-I... It's not what I meant-! I was just, uh, joking! I-!"

You know your attempts at justifying yourself are futile.

You know that there's nothing redeemable you can say for yourself.

But you don't want to lose this job!

Yes, you need the money too but spending all that time with Mr Kim and Seungmin...

You can't bear the thought of never getting to see them again!

"Y/N..."

Your staggered breath catches in your throat once you realise how close to you Mr Kim has gotten.

He has placed his hands on either side of the kitchen counter, trapping you between them.

"Mr Kim-".

You look up at him in question, only to get lost in his eyes.

His large palm comes to caress your cheek, his thumb slightly stroking the soft skin.

"Mr Kim".

A low groan rumbles in his throat as he presses his mouth against yours, more fiercely.

You utter again, before his lips suddenly connect with your own and your mind goes blank.

"Do you know how much I had to hold myself back whenever you called me that?".

You let out a small gasp when you feel his other hand start to fondle your breast.

A wanton cry slips past your lips when his fingers brush over your pebbled nipple.

"Do you know how many times I wished you showed these off to me, and me only?".

His words barely register, you mind still remaining blank from the unforeseen pleasure.

You latch your hands onto his wide shoulders as he lifts you off the ground, wrapping your legs around his waist and having you sit on the kitchen counter.

"Do you know how long I wanted to hear you call me Daddy?".

His hand pushes your hair back, revealing your neck for him to bury his face into, leaving a trail of wet kisses on your warm skin.

You slightly throw your head back, your mouth parting in pleasure, while your hands run through his dark hair.

Both of his hands slowly start kneading your breasts as he lifts his lips from your neck, drawing them close to your ear.

"Go on baby, say it...

Let me hear that pretty voice of yours call me Daddy".

Your brain short-circuits at his words.

You honestly can't fully process what's happening right now.

Yet the words leave your mouth with no hesitation.

"Daddy".

It's as if a switch flipped in Namjoon's mind.

"Oh yes, that's it, baby".

He growls, quickly discarding your blouse and bra off of your body before leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

You mewl as he starts to suck on it and your legs press against his hips, urging him to touch you where you need him most.

"Daddy, please".

He lets your nipple out of his mouth with a 'pop' and he stands up straight, slightly towering over you.

His hand disappears inside your pants, touching you over your panties as he looks down at you, his eyes clouded with desire.

"Is that what you want Daddy to do, baby?

Rub your pussy for you".

You pant closing your eyes as you nod at him urgently.

"Words, baby... I need to hear you say it".

"Yes, Daddy please rub my pussy".

And that's exactly what he does...

And he does it so well...

"Eyes on me, baby".

His deep voice coaxes you to open your eyes and gaze upon him.

Namjoon marvels at the sight of you, panting and trembling in pleasure but it's not nearly enough to satisfy his need for you.

He needs to see you come undone now, just by his fingers.

Gingerly pushing your panties to the side, he licks his lips before he inserts two of his long fingers inside you.

"Oh, D-Daddy!".

You let out a gasp, feeling yourself already full with just two of his fingers.

The thought of what it would feel like to have his cock enter you next, sends shivers down your spine.

His other hand rests on your hip and when he begins to move his fingers slowly in and out of your wet slit, Namjoon holds your body still as you can't help but squirm from the building pleasure.

"Now baby, I want you to focus on my voice".

You don't get the chance to respond to his words.

A breathy moan rips past your lips, your nails desperately digging into his back when you feel him curling his fingers inside you.

Namjoon lets out a pleased hum before he leans over to huskily whisper in your ear.

"I'll start counting and once I reach seven, you're going to let go and cum for your Daddy, like the good little girl you are".

"One...".

His fingers start to pick up speed, while he continues to move them in and out of you.

"Two...".

His other hand starts roughly groping your breast again, making you whine softly.

"Three... Four...".

His fingers curl intensely inside you, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your whole body.

"Five... Six"

"Daddy, I'm going to-!"

"...Seven".

You let go.

A sweet, little cry resonates in the kitchen when you cum on his fingers, but Namjoon keeps moving them, steadily letting you ride out your orgasm.

Once your body relaxes, you let yourself lean towards him resting your head on his chest with a small hum.

Embarrassment threatens to creep up on you as the gravity of the situation comes down on you.

And yet, when your mind runs back to Namjoon's previous words and touches, you instantly admit to yourself that there's no going back for you now.

You want him.

Namjoon grabs your chin, forcing your eyes to look up at him.

He relishes your blissed-out expression and smirks when he detects the insatiable desire still reflected in your eyes.

"Tell me what you want, baby".

His deep voice tears up all your remaining inhibitions.

"You, I want you inside me Daddy".

You run your palm through his clothed chest before starting to unbutton his shirt.

Namjoon lets out a low chuckle, shrugging his suit jacket off of his shoulders.

"Such a good girl, using her words for me".

He swiftly lifts your body off of the kitchen counter and carries you over to the living room.

Your legs stay wrapped around his waist as you finally remove his shirt off of him.

Having his strong arms hold you like this, your sole focus remains on discarding his clothes.

Licking your lips at the sight of his well-built body, you let your hands wander all over it, mapping out his chest, his waist and his shoulders.

Namjoon sighs in satisfaction, before carefully placing you back on the ground, leaving you to stand in front of him topless.

He slowly takes a sit at the edge of the couch behind him and his hands reach out, pulling down your pants and undergarments for you.

Soft moans release from your lips, as he starts to ravish every part of your body with wet kisses and sensual touches.

"Daddy".

You whine, your knees slightly quivering from his heated affection.

"I know baby, Daddy will give you what you want...

Just wanted to take a moment and cherish that beautiful body of yours".

He mutters glancing up at you with lust-filled eyes.

He raises his hips slightly, taking off both of his pants and boxers with one swift movement before leaning back on the couch, resting his arms on the back of it.

One of his fingers points to his lap and your gaze zeroes in on his erected length.

"Go ahead baby, I'm all yours".

You gulp, hesitating for a mere moment before your neediness overcomes you, urging your body to move on top of him.

His hands immediately find their way to your hips, holding onto them firmly to help guide you, as you slowly sink yourself down to his cock.

"Don't rush, we've got all the time in the world".

Namjoon's hushed whisper is soothing and it momentarily distracts you from the slightly painful stretch of his cock.

But the moment you bottom out, a pleasurable heat spreads through your entire body.

Your hips slightly stagger as you itch to start moving them against him but Namjoon's hands keep them still.

His face draws close to yours, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, his hot breath mingling with your own.

When he pulls away, his forehead touches yours as he looks deep in your eyes.

"Now, give Daddy a good ride".

Your back arches when his hands roll your hips setting up a steady pace for you to follow.

Once he's made sure you're able to keep up on your own, his hands wrap around your waist hugging your body close to him.

The way he holds you is so erotic; it makes you melt in his arms, hugging him back and letting him relish your unrestrained moans while you ride him.

Namjoon lets you chase your orgasm, simply enjoying the feeling of having you so intimately close to him.

His fingers run down your spine eager to watch goosebumps appear all over your skin.

Yet what takes him by surprise is your walls fluttering around his cock as well.

Namjoon groans throwing his head back, pleasure painting over his expression.

The sight of him losing his composure because of you urges you to pick up the pace, bucking your hips faster against his.

"Oh baby, you make Daddy feel so good...

Come on, won't you cum again around Daddy's cock, like the good girl you are?".

"Ah y-yes Daddy, I-I'm gonna cum!".

His half-lidded eyes are focused on you and you only.

The intensity of his gaze is enough to send you over the edge.

You bite your lip, in an attempt to muffle the shriek that leaves your mouth before your orgasm finally washes over you.

The pleasure your second orgasm brings you is even more intense than your previous one...

So much so, that when the afterglow settles in, you can't help but let your body slump on top of Namjoon's.

Snuggling against his slightly heaving chest, you gather up the courage to look up at him bashfully.

"Um... Mr. Kim-".

Your call for him gets interrupted by his mouth claiming yours in yet another passionate kiss.

Kissing you roughly and deeply, he doesn't draw back until he leaves you breathless.

His fingers brush through your hair tenderly but the look in his eyes is strict and his tone is absolute when he whispers to you.

"I thought we'd already established that from now on, you're only addressing me as Daddy".

[luxthestrange]

G.I Incorrect Quotes#110 Qiqi masterplan

Baizhu*Was about to slip and fall but you managed to save him by grabbing his waist, and pulling him towards you... out of reflex, he wrapped his arms around your neck* I owe you one~

Babysitter!Y/n*In a trance at his beauty...and accidentally didn't stop mouth on time*-That’s ok, You can just date me and we’ll call it even-

Baizhu*Blinks and ears turn read*P-pardon?

Babysitter!Y/n: I-I SAID ITS OKAY AND THEN I STOPPED TALKING!?-

Qiqi*Hidding in the hallway holding a coconut and straw, pouting...she pour some coconut juice on the floor on purpose, seeing you run away once Baizhu was standing better*...

Part 2 of:

[artdcnaldson]

art donaldson. make me cry on your cock. please. need it to be so hard and rough my little body can hardly take it. need him to ruin me and use me. horny brain. need to be a babysitter dilf!art hires to look after lily. need him to pick me because he thinks i'm pretty, need him to feel disgusting with himself for looking at such a young thing like that. but hire me anyway. need him to lie and insist the AC doesn't work, just so i'll keep wearing short skirts he can look right up under.... many thoughts.....😵‍💫

-🐞

BABYSITTER AU ALWAYS HITS SO CRAZYYYY

He feels so fucking gross like… his wife hired you— you’re working for them because you need a job while you’re in college, and he’s leering at you like a fucking perv.

You’re swimming in the pool with Lily when he gets home and you just giggle and wrap yourself in a towel and say you lost track of time, sorry! And god, just the mental image of you in a wet swimsuit is jerkoff material for the next fucking month.

You’re everywhere— he feels like he’s going crazy. You leave a spoon that you ate ice cream with on the counter and he’s slipping it between his lips, sucking on it like he can taste your spit there, even though all he can taste is metal. Blankets thrown carelessly across the couch smell like you— your perfume and deodorant. On one particularly desperate night, he cums with his face buried into the fabric, practically huffing your scent.

He’s gross, he hates that you’ve made him this way. He’s had plenty of other young, pretty babysitters hired before, but none of them do this to him. None of them fuck with his head this severely.

It all comes to a head when he gets home late one night after a charity function for underprivileged tennis players. Tashi’s away with Patrick, coaching him through the qualifiers for Roland Garros, which leaves him alone. Lily’s asleep when he peeks into her room— tucked in perfectly snug, surrounded by three of her favorite plushies.

But you… he can’t find you anywhere. It’s not until he steps into his bedroom that he hears it— the shutter of a phone camera, a girlish giggle. He steps into the bathroom and sees your shadow dancing across the marble floor, then sees a dress dropped into a heap in the doorway.

When he steps into the closet, you shriek in surprise, holding a hand to your chest. “Fuck— Mr. Donaldson, this isn’t—“ you stop talking, eyes wide, breathing in short, nervous pants.

You’re wearing Tashi’s lingerie. Tashi’s jewelry. The dress heaped on the floor is the one his wife wore to speak at the Stanford Commencement a few months prior. It’s cute— you’re playing dress up as his wife— but it sets an uncomfortable heat blooming in his stomach.

“Turn around,” he says, letting his eyes roam over your figure. You look pretty in lingerie that nice, that expensive. It’s got to be worth more than your fucking car payment.

“Mr. Donaldson—“ you stammer, shy now that you’ve been caught. He nods and you obey, biting down on your pouty bottom lip as you turn slowly for him.

“Take it off.” You quickly slip off the jewelry— the diamond earrings, the necklace, the rings, the Rolex. You drop it onto the vanity table and stare down at the floor. “All of it.”

He watches the bob of your throat as you swallow hard. Your gaze flicks over him quickly, lingering at the evident bulge in his fancy trousers. You obey, standing a little straighter, putting yourself on display for him as you unclasp the bra, let it fall to the floor.

Your nipples are already pebbled with arousal, and you slowly drag your hands over them, playing with them while Art watches. Art swallows hard as your hands trail down to toy with the waistband of the panties before you slip them down your legs.

“Hand them to me.” You’re trembling as you reach down and grab them, taking nervous steps forward before you place them into his open palm. He swallows hard, feeling the way your arousal has already soaked through the fabric.

Your feet are fidgeting where you stand— toes curling and uncurling into the plush carpet in the closet. “Does trying on Tashi’s clothes make you wet?”

“No, sir,” you answer quickly.

“Then what?”

You blink shyly, sweetly up at him. “Pretending I’m your wife does.” Jesus fucking Christ. “Imagining in her, that you’re going to come home from a busy night and stuff me full of cum. You know this set still had the tags on it? If I were her I’d wear things like this every n—”

He grabs your jaw hard, silencing you with a squeeze. “Stop fucking talking. I’m trying to— I’m trying to be decent.”

Decent. It’s laughable. You’re stripped naked before him on his orders. He’s holding panties you drenched with your arousal in his other hand, and all he can think is how bad he wants to taste them— taste you.

“Don’t.” You say, blinking up at him. “Don’t be decent.”

He releases your jaw, and you’re on your knees in an instant. Your hands work his belt, and he doesn’t move to stop you. He lets you pull it from the loops, undo the button and zip of his pants and push them down his thighs.

“I’ll stop,” you say as you pepper a soft kiss to his thigh. “Tell me to.”

He swallows, then groans as you palm his dick through the briefs he wears, tracing the length of him in your hand. He doesn’t want you to fucking stop.

And why would he want you to stop when you swallow him down so perfectly? Exactly how he knew you would. You’re blinking up at him with your lips wrapped around his cock, moaning at the taste of him.

He thought you’d be sweet and innocent, but you’re taking him deeper, spit spills from the sides of your mouth as you take him into your throat. Don’t even fucking gag at all, just breathe through your nose and lave your tongue along the underside of his dick, tracing along the vein there.

You moan around him when he grabs a fistful of your hair, holds you in place while he fucks into the wet heat of your mouth. You just take it, even as his full balls slap against your chin with every thrust, as his cockhead knocks against the back of your throat.

He can’t take that anymore. He bends you over Tashi’s vanity, makes you watch yourself in the mirror as he splits you open on his cock. You mewl, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, Mr. Donaldson— you’re so big, feel so good—“ you cry out, a dopey, pleased smile on your face.

He hooks two fingers in your mouth to shut you up as he pounds into your cunt, forcing little squeaks and muffled cries from your mouth. God, your pussy is so perfect— soaking wet, tight as a fucking virgin even though he knows you’re not one— not by a fucking long shot.

He should’ve known. Pretty college girl begging for a job, taunting him with your pretty body, flirting with him any chance you got. He should’ve smelled the daddy issues on you and turned you away. Tashi should have.

But she didn’t, and you were both reaping the benefits now.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To be alone with you 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: who predicted 2024 would be the year I converted to Cavill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The blinds are drawn as you hug your pillow with one arm. Your body is stiff as you sleep with one leg hooked around your blankets, the bottom of one cheek exposed to the steady blow of AC. You shiver and roll onto your back, pulling the covers around you fully.

The night before is a vague shadow in your mind. You remember starting the movie but not much else. You’d been so tired after the break-in, you must’ve passed out almost immediately. You feel bad, hoping that Clark doesn’t take it to heart.

You push yourself up. Your head is thick and full with sleep. You haven't slept like this in forever. Your mouth is dry but tangy. You swallow the gritty morning and cough, turning to dangle your legs over the edge.

Your striped shorts are crooked and wrinkly and your tee shirt smells like sweat. Ugh. You're a mess. 

You stand and lumber around clumsily. You grab a change of clothes and try to stretch out the kinks as you cross the hall to the bathroom. You close the door and put your clothes on the counter, facing your reflection.

You look rough. You feel just as bad. You turn on the cold water and splash it over your face before you brush your teeth, scraping out the stale taste stuck to your tongue. You turn on the shower and undress, wincing as your thighs meet.

You must be close to your time of the month. You get a bit sensitive. It would explain your fatigue and the soreness. Great. 

You step into the glass booth and wash yourself. The warm water is soothing against your stiff muscles. God, you really hurt. You reach down to touch your folds, checking your fingers for blood.

PMS is a bitch. Not enough to bleed for a week, your body has to gaslight you into thinking you are already.

After, you pull on the fresh clothes but hardly feel more awake. Just sluggish and achy. Coffee. You don't live off it like your sister but you need it in that moment.

Thinking of, where is your sister? Not too unusual for her to he errant but it's been a few days.

As you come downstairs, you hear snoring rumbling through the first floor. You slow and tiptoe into the front room. You cautiously approach the couch and find Clark, arms crossed, sleeping on his side, cramped into the small space as he slumbers. The small throw stretched over his shoulders. 

Your stomach pits. You're certain he'd much rather be at home in his own bed. Your guilt keeps you from disturbing him.

You creep into the kitchen, making your movement muted and staggered. You flip the switch on the kettle and wait as it hums. You load the french press with grinds and teeter on your toes, dancing nervously around the tile. 

You pour the boiling water into the press and check the time on the stove. You give it time to brew and lean on the island, listlessly cupping your chin and tapping your cheek with your fingertips. As you blow out, you hear the floorboards and stand up to greet Clark as he enters. 

His hair is askew, eyes droopy, and the blanket still draped around his neck. You didn't realise before he hadn't been wearing a shirt. His pajamas hang low on his stomach, the dark hair across his chest and trailing down his stomach exposed shamelessly. You gulp and focus on his face. 

“Smells like coffee,” he grins crookedly, “morning.”

“Morning, uh, I hope I didn't wake you up,” you squeak.

“Not at all,” he waves you off, “you passed out so quick, I figured you'd be up and at em. Besides, Jonny’s an early riser.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn to press down the plunger on the press, “I'm sorry I zonked out so fast–”

There's less resistance than you expect and the coffee splashes up and overflows, splashing your hands as you recoil with a yipe. You try to shake it off but a particular spot on the back of your hand singes badly. Before you can think, Clark has your arm and angles you to the sink as he flips on the cold water.

He guides your hand under, crowding you as your arm shakes in pain. You hiss even as the water soothes. 

“Oh, I'm so clumsy,” you murmur.

“As long as you're okay,” he slowly lets you go, “you let me take care of this.”

He swipes up the dish towel and sops up the errant drops of coffee. He dries off the outside of the press and patiently pushes down the plunger. You turn off the water and use a fresh towel on your hands.

He faces you, “blistering?”

You look at your hand, “just tender.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” he chortles, “scare away all the bad men and take care of your burns.”

“Ha, yeah, I–”

“Mm, something smells like cherry blossoms,” he interrupts, sniffing the air, his blue eyes narrowing on you, “is that you?”

“Um, yeah,” you catch a wafting scent from your body, “that's my body soap. Oh no, is it setting you off?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, “I was more worried about you.”

“Ah, no, it's fine. The soap doesn't trigger me surprisingly.”

“Hm,” he leans on the counter, gripping the edge as you notice how his stomach muscles clench, “I bought Lois some cherry blossom soap once. She never used it. Guess it isn't her scent.”

“Not for everyone I guess,” you turn and open a cupboard, taking down two mugs.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees dully, “well, I should call your dad over my coffee,” he pushes himself straight and nears, stopping right beside you as you pour into the cups, “maybe after we can go get breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, you don't have to–”

“I want to. Kinda weird not having Jonny around, looking fir a distraction,” he accepts a mug as you slide it over to him.

“Makes sense,” you say, “well, who am I to deny a free meal?”

🏡

After searching your coffee cup for an ounce of strength, you give in to the persistent glaze in your eyes. Maybe eating will help. Clark's offer is generous, almost too generous, yet your stomach clenches at the thought of food.

You grab your purse and head down to find Clark. He's in the kitchen, rinsing his mug, your own forgotten on your night stand. He dries it and puts it away as you wait for him to notice you.

“Did you talk to my dad?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, couldn't get through. They must be on the road. Service gets spotty, right?” He hangs the dish towel neatly, “so you ready? I gotta stop by my place and change but then we can eat.”

“Sure, uh, well, you know, if it's too much…”

“Not at all, I'm excited. There's this place I've been meaning to try for a while but Lois hasn't felt like it,” he says, “tried calling her too. Think she's still mad at me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kent.”

“Clark,” he corrects you, “you make me feel so old.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again.

“It's fine,” he shrugs, “we should get going. I'm starving.”

“Not gonna lie, me too.”

“Must've been all the salty snacks last night,” he kids.

🏡

After you stop at the Kents', you set off for breakfast. The more you think about it the hungrier you are. You grow restless as you watch several options pass by, holding your tongue as Clark keeps driving.

You're surprised as he passes the city limits and you shift in your seat, craning to watch the sign pass. He clears his throat and turns down the radio, "almost there. Guess I shoulda mentioned it's all the way out here."

"Nah, it's fine," you shrug, "just curious."

"Really cute place, locally owned," he explains, "I prefer to give my money to an honest family business, you know?"

"Totally get it," you say coolly.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, as if he's restless or even agitated. He pulls into a gravel lot off the country road and you look up at the painted side. You passed this place with your parents a few times but never pulled over. It's a quaint brunch restaurant in a cottage-style house.

"Oh, this place," you chuckle.

"You been here?" He asks.

"No, but I've seen it."

"Right," he intones and clicks free his seat belt.

You free yourself of your own seat belt and climb out as he mirrors you. You let him take the lead and follow him to the front door. He holds it open and you enter ahead of him. You're greeted inside by an elderly lady.

"Good morning, may I show you to a table?" She offers.

You nod as Clark gives a vocal response over your head. She leads you to a table for two. You notice the place isn't very busy. There's an older man in the corner drinking coffee over a newspaper but no one else.

You sit as she introduces herself as Lena and promises menus. She shuffles away as you look at Clark who seems enamoured with the place. He admires the painting of flowers not far from your table and the lacy curtains around the front windows. It's cute but a bit outdated.

"There ya go, honies," she lays two menus on the table, her knobby hands shaking, "would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please, and..." he looks at you.

"Green tea, please."

"Coffee and green," she repeats, "lovely."

She hobbles away and you shift awkwardly in your seat. She must be the only waitress. In a place like this, you're not surprised. You just hope the food is decent, not that you can be picky.

"This place is nice," he muses, "peaceful."

"Yeah, it's interesting," you say as you pick up the menu. 

"I'm glad you got some sleep," he takes his own menu and browses it lazily, "glad I could be there to keep an eye out. Protect you."

"Ah, well, yeah, I don't think they guy would come back anyway but it did help," you give a small smile and settle on eggs benedict.

"Great," he puffs out his chest just a little. 

You peek up at him. It must be a good distraction for him. With Lois and Jonny gone, he needs something to keep him busy. You can humour him.

"Here ya go, sweets," Lena returns with a mug off coffee and a teacup on a saucer. She places both shakily and stands as straight as she can to ask if you've decided on what you want.

Clark lets you order first and you speak loudly and slowly to the woman as she cups her ear. She repeats it back to you before listening aptly to Clark. When she's done, she gives a soft clap and goes back behind the counter. She scribbles on a piece of paper and puts it in the window.

You glance over at the window, distracting yourself with the blowing grass. Somehow out here, you don't feel the same tickle in your sinuses. You sit back and cross your arms, watching the lazy blue sky.

"Oh, it's so romantic, a nice breakfast for two," Lena startles you as she appears again. She places a candlestick in the middle of the table then puts a wax taper in it. You can only stare and share look with Clark as she lights it, "you are so darling together. Is it a special occasion?"

"Uh," you bite your lip and look at Clark.

"Just breakfast," he answers as he throws his hands up, "spur of the moment, you know?"

"That's precious," she squeals, "you are such a beautiful pair."

"Thanks," Clark says and you just smile awkwardly.

She winks and leaves once more. You watch her cross the restaurant and sit with the old man and his newspaper. He lowers it as she whispers to him. You turn back and face Clark, leaning forward.

"I think she thinks we're together," you keep your voice quiet, "like a couple."

"Eh yeah, I didn't want it to be awkward," he shrugs, "no harm in it, really."

Your mouth slants as you consider his response. You guess he's right. What will it hurt? She's just a lonely old woman.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing," you answer.

"Really? I mean, I could correct her if it's a big deal--"

"It's not, really," you lean forward and cross your arms over the table, "just funny, I guess. Second time it's happened."

"It is?" He furrows his thick brows.

"Yeah, the ice cream guy..." you trail off, "whatever. Just... I'm kinda young but maybe don't look it."

"It's flattering, really," he insists, "people really think I could be with someone like you."

"Well, I mean, Lois is gorgeous," you laugh, "so..."

"Lucky man, surrounded by beautiful women," he grins.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you sit back awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. You're nothing like Lois, love handles excluded, you still couldn't compare. You're just the babysitter. “Thanks, that's… you don't have to say that.”

“Well, you are,” he rubs his neck bashfully.

“Ha, yeah, well…” you clasp your hands in your lap and look again out the window.

As you watch the horizon over the dusty road, your heart roils in the tension. There's something nipping at your mind, just on the edge of your memory but you just can't grasp it. Is he just being nice or is there something more behind his compliments?

Don't be silly, he doesn't see you like that. He couldn't.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

The Babysitter Masterlist

Summary: In need of money and a way to escape the problems at home, you get a job babysitting two lovely boys named Billy and Tommy Maximoff. What happens when you start to feel things you shouldn't for their mother? Will it bloom into love or leave you heartbroken?

A/N- I would just like to say that there will be some sensitive issues in this story such as alcoholism, homophobia, anxiety as well as more mature content such as smut so, if you continue to read this, please consider this warning.

Ongoing. Word Count- 195k

This fic is 18+ MDNI

Chapters:

1- Meeting the Maximoffs

2- Cookies and Cuteness

3- Falling Asleep On The Job

4- Parks and Puppies

5- Blame

6- Catching A Liar

7- Taking Care

8- Birthday Wishes

9- Shot In The Back

10- A Moment Of Weakness

11- Kiss Me

12- Like A Date?

13- Let's Go Home

14- You're All I Want

15- I Want To Make You Feel Good.

16- A Way To De-Stress

17- Hesitance

18- I Love You

19- Hopelessly In Love

20- Is Someone Jealous?

21- Together?

22- I've Got You Detka

23- Welcome To The Family

24- The 'Talk'

25- Beach House Shenanigans

26- Best Birthday Ever

27- A New Toy

28- A Moment Together

29- I'm Going To Kill Him

30- Punishments

31- I'm Here

32- The Right Person

33- Talk To Me

34- Family Night

35- All I'll Ever Need

36- Surprise Trip

37- Meet Me In My Office

38- She Felt Like Home

39- Anything I Want?

40- Alone Time

41- Asgard

42- Flour Fights

More Chapters to come :)

[marmalade004]

[nelkcats]

Danny is a meta Babysitter

Is not public information, but all Crime Alley know it, ¿the only rule? Don't tell the heroes

So, imagine the surprise when Roy Harper contacted him (¡¿cause Hood recommended!?)

[celestie0]

note: this was a teaser post for a gojo x reader fic but if you’re seeing this now, i posted it already! here 🧚‍♀️ ✨

ᰔ pairing. underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). his mom gave him two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control for the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, smut, lil bit of fluff, babysitter au, reader is yuuji’s older sister, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, sort of porn-coded smut lmfao except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught?, gojo is a tiny bit mean but no name calling or anything & it’s a win for you if you’ve got a slight degradation kink but cry when someone goes too far w it, anywho and mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood

here’s a lil teaser:

lmfao this teaser is so crack-smut coded but i swear it has proper smut xd

[aeroplaneblues]

Acting Grand Babysitter 🐰🌱😴

I love that yao yao is always in alhaitham’s banner, she is so cute and precious is the perfect companion for someone like alhaitham. I have tons of wips with these two hopefully I can get through them. For now im taking things slower than normal, also pls forgive my dialogue im dumb🥲 i tried.

[georgiapeach30513]

With Your Touch, Part 4

Summary: Lloyd is losing all his control

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, sexual content, voyeurism, female masturbation, daddy kink, Lloyd Hansen...18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.5K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Watching.

Looking away, only to watch some more.

He couldn’t get out of his head. No, he couldn’t get specifically you and your siren fucking ways of out of his head. This isn’t even perverted, it’s downright creepy, and he still can’t look away from your sleeping body. You are a restless sleeper. But the plus side is in the couple of weeks that you have been here Lyla seemed content.

Before he felt the constant need to just watch his daughter sleep, and not on the monitor, but in her room. But now she wakes up twice a night, and rarely wakes up crying. Except in this moment he is watching you like he did his daughter. Temptress. And yet, you did nothing. Just sleep, and you still weave your alluring web around his entire thoughts.

He has been the idiot that just couldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop staring, or even offering his services to you. And he would. He would make sure you slept soundly. It’s what you needed. You need to be fucked so hard that you don’t have a thought in your brain. No wonder you stayed in your pretty little head because you had a fucking moron for a boyfriend. Lloyd is sure that encounter has had you questioning everything he said, and who the fuck cared?

What Lloyd really wanted to do when he came home was squeeze The Verb’s head until his pea brain exploded. And no, he did not get turned on by the fact that you most likely had daddy issues. But you did. And you are an obedient one. You responded well with his requests.

Barely knew Lloyd and you followed his requests each time, and without hesitation. The need to praise you and tell you what a good girl you are bubbled up in his throat, and he knew it would have been a step too far. But you craved attention and adoration. Not in a bratty way, no. You behaved so well, and wanted recognition for that, and you deserved it.

But Lloyd is getting too close. Too far away still. God, he just wants to run his nose up your graceful neck as he inhales your sweet scent. What the fuck kind of perfume did you even wear? Slightly sweet, but more of a soft floral that is the most intoxicating thing he has ever smelled. Well…until the smallest bit of your slippery arousal wound up on his hand.

What a gift from whatever higher power there might be. But what a tragic moment that he walked away too quickly. He was afraid if you wiggled around too much after that spanking you would have felt the steel rod that had tented his pants. Walking to the bathroom was a difficult task. All he wanted to do was bend you over the couch while he stabbed into you.

Who is he becoming? A man that couldn’t control his urges, that’s who. The moment he got out of your eyesight he sucked every bit of your honey off his fingers. His eyes rolled into the back of his head at the delectable taste of you. And he had to waddle into the bathroom so he could take a shower, and fuck his fist. His fist that could never compare to the luscious tight heat between your legs.

The way he angrily jerked himself off with his head under the shower, grunting without a care in the world. He hoped you heard how frustrated he was. Hope you could hear he was a fucking fool for your body. And oddly enough, you. He had never been in such a close proximity to a woman without fucking her.

He pumped himself so hard it made him feel lightheaded, or maybe it was the thought of you being filled and completely stretched out with him. Your brows arched, while you whine at how much he fills you. Back arched, and body recoiling with every hard thrust into you. Begging for him to go harder, and he spanks you hard to appease your greedy cunt. That little yelp that releases from your throat has him barreling into you.

Mewls of pleasure building, and he just goes harder. You will love when he punishes you through pleasure alone. Crying and begging for more and more, and he’ll give you every bit of it. Every ounce of his fierce movements until you are nothing but a compliant sweet girl, and he’ll make sure to hold you, and lavish you with all the attention you deserve.

“Fuck,” he grunts out. Rolling his eyes to see the mess he made. Just thinking of you is driving him insane. He doesn’t think there has been a night since you’ve got here that he’s had to fuck his own hand. It was cruel when he knew just how wet your sloppy cunt gets.

Not wanting to miss too much of you sleeping, he reaches for a tissue to rid himself of his cum that should have been for you. Painted on your perfect tits, leaking out of your mouth, or the best, dripping out of that pretty pussy.

And then a glorious sight. You moan in your sleep, rolling over onto your back, and you pick up your phone. Placing it back down on your nightstand with a bit too much force before you lift out of the bed. Your arms cross over your chest as you rub over them nice and slow. “Ugh, why do I keep…” your words trail off and become thoughts, and it infuriates him.

“Keep what? What do you keep doing?” He whispers out into the night. Smiling when he sees you bite your lip before throwing your shirt off. “Now this I like,” he settles back into his bed, holding the phone, and he enjoys the moments of you playing with your tits. “I wouldn’t do it that way,” he adds.

He would start slow with soft kisses around your skin, just to watch your peaks get harder. Pebbling with his touch before giving each a quick nibble. Sinking his mouth over the hardened bud, and kitten licking it. Watching you get all heated and squirmy. Taking you to the edge slowly.

Lloyd is long past trying to hold it together when he is in his room. He is a deviant man, and you are a fuckable woman, and you are in his damn house. He is free to do whatever the fuck he wants. He is garbage and despicable, and Roman knew that when he sent you to Lloyd. So he was going to enjoy, “Holy shit.”

Lloyd’s eyes want to bug out of his head as you pull open a drawer, and pull out a pretty little toy. He wouldn’t dig through your drawers, but he needs to know if you have more than a silly little fucking, “Is that a damn penguin?”

He wants to laugh at the shape of your toy. You probably had more cutesy little play things in there. This is the best entertainment he has ever seen. You use your fingers to stimulate one nipple while the penguin’s mouth is on the other. Arching your back, and whimpering as your peaks stiffen. You are the epitome of perfection.

Heavy breathing as your chest heaves and you dip that silly penguin lower. Thank fuck you pull the blanket down, and he sees your pretty pussy spread all out, and he knows when he sees it close up it’ll still be a work of art. To just be face to face with your velvety petals makes him start to feel aroused again. Your eyes flutter closed as the toy attaches to your swollen clit, “Lloyd…”

“That’s my girl,” he croons. He knew it. He knew when you happened to look back up at him while he was spanking your ass that you felt it. He could tell in the way your pussy was throbbing on his leg. You want him to fuck you as much as he wants to. Nobody would have gotten that wet if they didn’t. You had practically dripped your juices on his leg. And that pout mixed how fucking dilated your pretty eyes were. Shamelessly he knew you wanted, and needed more than a spanking.

It’s a shame the first time he hears you mutter his name is because you’re playing with yourself, and he’s watching you like the fucking creep he is. Keeping the toy on your center your eyes open, and you give a frown, “Chase.”

“Not that fuckhead. Go back to my name. Please, sweet girl,” you look confused as you keep repeating that dumb name. You move that toy around your clit, one he assumes creates the feeling of sucking, but he can do better. Confliction is written all over your face.

“No, no, princess, you need to finish. You’ll make me want to go in there and bury my face in your cunt. Finish the job. Quit saying his name,” he’s ready to get on his knees and beg like a little pushover. He needs to see you come, preferably with —

“Lloyd,” your voice is a little questioning, but you start to relax again. Your body is rolling and moving. Creating the flow of having sex. Your tits are swaying up and down, and he needs to touch you. Needs to feel your soft skin under his calloused hands as he fucks you into oblivion. You are always in your head because of the fucking men in your life.

“Yeah. Right there, right there,” you whine, and his cock twitches. Why is your voice like a drug to his nether regions? Whining for his cock will get you everything, and it’ll get him fucking into your body harder.

“You’re a fun little one, aren’t ya?” He’s never seen something so beautiful in his life. The sounds coming off your lips is like a choir of angels, and he was the dark lord that just wants to see you fall into his depths of depravity. “Oh fuck,” if he was a more desperate man, he’d have his cock out while he fucked you at the same pace, but he’s trying to hold onto some dignity. There isn’t much left.

“Lloyd.”

“Yeah,” he moans right along with you. You are so pretty as you start to sail up into the heavens.

“Lloyd!”

“Go harder, princess.”

“Oh, fuck, daddy!” His eyes go wide, and he sits up in the bed, staring at your body as it gets right to the edge. “Daddy.”

“Fucking, minx,” Lloyd throws his legs over the bed, and tiptoes down the hall. He needs to hear this in person. Speaking to you through his mind because he didn’t want to be caught. There is nothing he wants more than to hear you come with his name or daddy on your lips.

“Daddy, fuck me harder,” didn’t have daddy issues. You are swimming in daddy issues. He could take care of you. He would give you all the attention that your father never did, and he’d rub it in Roman’s face. Let him know that you were now his good girl. And you did everything he asked. Even taking his cock just like the perfect whore you are.

“I won’t misbehave again,” such a lie, you would, and he would be there to punish you. You love it. You got just as much out of Lloyd spanking you as he did. He saw your messy little hole. Too bad they need to be filled. What a waste to not have you coming over his cock.

“There. Right there. Oh my god! Yes, yeah, I’m coming. Lloyd! Ahh!” If whispered screams were a thing, you were doing them. You sucked at it because it wasn’t really whispering. And he wants to praise you for being such a vocal girl. Wants to tell you how proud he is that you let him know when you are coming. Wants to wrap you in his arms as you fall asleep.

“Fuck,” you draw out as you lay in the bed panting. You’d never came so hard in your life. And you didn’t even use multiple forms of stimulation. “I’m fucked. I want to fuck my boss.”

And he wants to fuck you. If only you realized how much. If you knew, would it make a difference? Would he be doing you a disservice because he pulls you from an abusive relationship and into his life. A man that had too many enemies and the baggage of a little girl. One he was entirely responsible for.

As much as Lloyd wants to give into every one of his sick fantasies, he wants you to be okay. You to choose where you wanted to go in life. But you to admit you search for the comfort from dickheads. A pattern your fucking father started and he knows The Verb isn’t the first I believe you’ve been with. Call it a lucky guess.

But he could punish you in the way you desired. Because fucked up childhoods can mold your adult kinks. It was just way for you to work through the neglect. And if he had to guess each of your boyfriends just kept getting worse. You needed an asshole to take your father’s place. If it's an asshole you wanted, Lloyd could be your asshole.

You prance by Lloyd as he holds onto Lyla. Giving her a bright smile before you walk into the kitchen, and his daughter giggles, turning her head to follow your movements, “Holy,” Lyla looks back at her father, and he changes his word, “Sugar. What am I going to do with your Dolly?”

The way your skirt flows against your soft skin, and accentuates your curves gives him the need to bite his fist. Seeing you like this is making it impossible for him to not think of pulling you onto his lap, and spanking you for making him feel this uncontrollable. Punishing you before he fucks you so hard you quit trying to tempt him. And then he realizes that the way you look is his problem and not yours. But fuck if he didn’t want to destroy you.

“Lloyd?” Every time you say his name now he hears the desperate pleas of needing release from last night. It’s not going to be easy for him to control himself, but thankfully he has a baby girl that’s blowing bubbles at you to distract him. “Lloyd, I’d like to request an outing.”

“That is very formal,” it was a good thing, he supposes. Fuck, you looked good enough to eat. Let him plant his face right at your split while he sucks the life out of you one orgasm at a time.

“Yeah, well,” you swish your weight from foot to foot. Your thighs rub together, and he hopes that you’re just as sexually frustrated as him. Hoping that you were having filthy thoughts of him railing into you like he was. Hopes that you’re being tortured just the same as him. And you didn’t even know he pretended his fist was your pussy multiple times a day. “I’d like to take her to a museum.”

“Which one?” He asks with a smirk. Yeah, he’s making you uncomfortable as your arms try to figure out if they want to hang or cover your chest. Keep covering your chest. He likes the way your tits look.

“I don’t know.”

“No.”

“But Lloyd? Lyla Bee would love it.”

“Which one?” You stand there shell shocked, not really knowing. You were going to do some research during her morning nap. You seriously didn’t think this through, and you run through the options of nearby museums. “I have a better idea for you?”

“Oh yeah?” My god, your smile lights up a room. He’s already figured out how to make you respond positively. You just need a bit of coaxing. Skipping over to the seat beside him puts you way too close to him for whatever transpired last night, and he gawks at you. Unable to focus on anything but you making your own body rock in the bed instead of his thrusts.

You didn’t even pay him any mind. Instead you lean over to smile at Lyla whose slobber starts dripping out of her mouth as she smiles back. “What do you think daddy has planned for us?” He seriously wonders if you knew. If you had any clue what you were doing. “So what are you thinking?”

“This,” he slides over a pamphlet towards you, and you don’t even open it. Just look at the cover, and the way your face goes through so many motions in such a short amount of time is fascinating. “Is something wrong?”

“It says mommy and me.”

“It should honestly say nanny and me. Most of those people there are not the babies’ moms anyways. I signed you and Lyla up. You can take her every Tuesday and Thursday at one. Just in time for her to have been up from nap, and ready to go. It’s within walking distance, so you can take her pram. See, I’ve thought of everything.”

He had thought of everything. And while you are excited about getting out, and showing off what a cute baby you had, well he had, and you were nannying. But there’s something bothering you. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing. I’ll take her.”

“No, we don’t do that here. You are bothered or worried about something, so what is it?” You shake your head no because you know you’re being silly, but the more you think about it, it doesn’t feel silly. “Dolly, it would be best for you if you told me what’s bothering me.”

“Are you going to spank me again?” He smirks, and you quickly turn your face the other way. That movement was too quick, and you didn’t think you would get caught. Embarrassment is palpable. It almost feels elementary when a crush catches you watching them.

“Is that what you would like?” Your mouth falls open, and you stare at him. Cemented to the ground because he is absurd. “Please, close your mouth, or I can find something to put in it.”

As fast as you close your mouth, Lloyd has already cursed himself ten times. He didn’t have to make a comment like that, but it’s out there now, and he hates the questions he sees running through your mind. It’s like a projector of your thoughts is coursing through his own, but he can’t take it back.

“I apologize for the incident last night.”

“You spanked my bare ass. My — pussy was right there.”

“Oh, I was very much aware, princess. I could feel it throbbing on my leg, and felt the drip of your slick on my pants. Judging by your body’s reaction you really liked it, so please don’t play your games with me,” he needs to get laid. Maybe thinking about anyone but the way you would look on your knees as he paints your lips with his precum would help. “I said I apologize. And I was trying to save you from your embarrassment.”

“It was humiliating!”

“And that adds to it. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. You were out of your bedroom with no panties on. But we’re getting off track. Is this a ploy to avoid my question of what it is that’s bothering you or do you want to have a conversation of how we can make the spankings a normal occasion?” Lyla blabbers between the two of you. Carrying on an adult conversation and thankfully she didn’t understand any of it. “So what do you want to do? I am here to listen, what is bothering you?”

You can’t say that Lloyd hasn’t been listening to you. In fact he paid more attention to you than most people in your life. “It’s silly.”

“I’m sure it’s not if you’re avoiding it so bad.”

“I’m not her mom, and — I was raised by someone else, too, and I’m a basket case,” sweet girl. You and Lyla are similar enough, but very different in ways.

“Can I be honest?” He couldn’t entirely be honest with you. What was he supposed to say, ‘I rubbed one out while I listened to you say my name as you came so hard. Would you like a dick to come on?’

You nod your head, willing this conversation over, and this morning. “Lyla doesn’t have a mother. Her rights will be terminated as soon as possible. You had a mother, you had a nanny. Lyla has you, and she has me. I suppose it’s easier sometimes to raise a child than to just take care of one. And I am entrusting you to raise her. I won’t have women or men in and out of her life, she needs stability, and there’s very few things I can keep stable. But who I have taking care of and raising her is one of them, and for better or worse, I chose you.”

The conflict on your face tells him he said something wrong, and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Just how much did your family damage your ability to judge a good thing? You seem scared of a commitment, and yet want it. “Dolly, I know things have been a bit tense, right?”

“Yeah,” you giggle. Your glassy eyes glance at him, and you see right through him. Staring into his soul. You want him to show you the way. Guide you. And he will do that, with pleasure. He’ll make sure no one takes advantage of you or hurts you again. Not even him.

“I want this to work,” sure, choose his words carefully. Maybe it could mean more than just you being the au pair. It could mean something more. Words can be tricky. He loves when his words can have two meanings, and it leaves you wondering exactly which way he means. Both. He wants you to be the au pair to Dolly, and to him — he’s almost too embarrassed to say it out loud.

“We need an open dialogue. Do you think you’re feeling this way because you see already what a child that you didn’t birth is meaning to you, and…”

“My own blood didn’t love me the way that I love her,” loving a child is easy and simple. Developing that utmost devotion to a child and knowing you would take your last breath if it meant saving them. That is how Lyla made you feel. You wanted to protect her from the people of this world and love her in ways that nobody loved you.

The baby had more than enough, but what all children want is love. Things get old, they break, the batteries go bad, they get lost. But love is something you can feel forever. You see it, you know it, and it encompasses every part of you. Things you grow tired of. You were a thing to them, your parents. Growing tired of you on a regular basis. Bringing you out to play dress up with when they needed to look good.

A pretty and obedient little doll. Lloyd didn’t realize just how fitting Dolly was, because that’s exactly how your parents made you feel.

“I um — mmm, I’m not your — father, but I promise I won’t ignore you. It’s,” fuck he didn’t know what to say. He just wants you to hold his daughter who was giggling and jabbering away, thinking she is part of the conversation, while he holds you. You need to be held. You didn’t get held enough, and it’s showing. But this is a situation he doesn’t want to make uncomfortable and push in a possible sexual innuendo.

This moment is too tender for Lloyd’s typical self. He needs to go into ‘Daddy’ mode, and protect you. Comfort you, something the men in your life have failed to do. But the way he wants to be that source of escape for you hurts him.

“I want things to be good here. And…things are getting harder for me,” fuck he didn’t mean to say that.

“Harder?” Thank the fuck you didn’t feel his actual hard on. “Like at work?”

“Yes, exactly. Harder at work.”

“What’s going on at work?”

“I don’t talk about work. It’s just getting hard. If I become scarce, I don’t mean it,” that’s what your father used to say. Work is such a likely excuse. “I keep things from you to protect you,” and because you probably would think he was a fucking weirdo for having his head pressed against your door last night listening to you release whimpering his name.

“I have a short temper,” this is sounding like a grocery list of his own issues. “And I have a…”

“Tendency to be possessive,” you could say that. That makes it sound easy. He was a spoiled brat. His parents gave him everything he wanted. Made him dress up to parties where everyone catered to his every whim. Everything was always Lloyd Hansen’s. A terror.

“What gave you that impression?”

“The way you are with ‘The Verb’. I’m allowed to date, you know?”

“Yep, and you still choose assholes,” your major flaw was choosing the wrong assholes. He was the right asshole because he would know when to cut it off. He didn’t want to be an asshole to hurt you, lowering your self esteem so he can control you. No, his type of assholery was you are his. And his to take care of.

“Are you suggesting you would be any better?” You’re playing his game. He sees that small lift of your lip. He didn’t say anything about himself. Just that one ingrown toenail that you called a boyfriend. “Hmm?” brat. He would be perfect for you.

“I never mentioned myself.”

“So just spanking me is enough?” Bitch. You really were trying to twist his words to get answers. He likes you even more. “That was a threat you gave me the first night. Awfully forward for a new employee.”

“You do have a perfect ass with no panties on, it’s what you deserve,” he gives you a wink, grinning himself. “I think it’s time that you and miss Lyla get some tummy time. I’ll see you this evening. I’m having food delivered. All you have to do is set the table, Dolly. Have a good day my darling,” he totally means the baby, but he looks at you quickly. Giving Lyla a big kiss before handing her over to you. You stare right back at Lyla. He hopes your panties are already soaked, seeing how his cock was half mast itself. You are trouble.

A woman that could keep up with Lloyd is terrifying. But he loves a challenge. If only he didn’t have to tell his dick to stay limp and quit getting excited. His arm is tired. And you would feel better than his hand ever could.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylum @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @lostinspace33 @abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey @rogersbarber

[mamiya-a]

I can easily imagine Miranda being awfully unaware of internet jokes , which leads to the babysitter having the huuuge opportunity to mess with her. For example she posts a picture of Miranda with a caption #NEEDTHAT and leaves her so confused, like..."what do you need...??"

Especially after Miranda downloaded social media so she can stalk communicate with the babysitter more.

Bonus points if the babysitter somehow convinced her to let the girls have access to internet and she has to listen to unfunny brainrot jokes all day long.

"She knows..."

"SHE KNOWS WHAT???" 😭😭😭

[whitefrog228]

I love babysitter au :)

I love how Peri looks like a gentleman and Irep looks like a punk, so that's why I came up with the idea for this comic:

I love the warm relationship between husband and wife :_)