「2:27AM」 → In which you're his daughter's friend, but Johnny Seo can't help but indulge in facefucking you under his desk | smut
warnings | single dilf johnny, johnny is 38 and reader is 19, oral sex (m receiving), facefucking, a lot of spit, degradation, mentions of exhibitionism, and dacryphilia.
author’s note | okay i couldn't resist and i had to make a dilf!johnny one cause.. DILF JOHNNY.
related timestamp | https://atzsslut.tumblr.com/post/665312668119351296/127am-in-which-youre-involvement-with-your
smut under the cut, minors dni
"I can imagine how—fuck—if my daughter walked in on us right now, horrified seeing her slut of a friend getting face-fucked by her own dad." Mr. Seo taunted, referencing how you were kneeling under his desk, taking his whole cock down your throat.
"Mmmfh." was all that came out of you, as if you thought you could speak with him stuffing your mouth full.
Mr. Seo was adoring how you looked right now; on your knees, a mix of spit and pre-cum covering your chin, and your lips swollen from the continuous sucking motion. But his favorite thing would always be the tears running down your hollowed cheeks.
His big hands were laced into your hair, controlling every thrusting movement of your mouth around his shaft. Your tongue was grazing against him in the best way possible, the sounds so sinful just like the countless early morning rendezvous you've been having with Mr. Seo.
Because he wanted to know what you were supposed to say, he swiftly pulled you off, sadistically smiling at how you shakily sucked in a breathe after breathing through your nose the whole time, and the trail of saliva still connecting you to his dick.
"What'd you wanna say, baby?"
"Wait," you took another breathe, your hands that were on Mr. Seo's lap gently squeezing to compose yourself, "I need to ask you something."
"And what's that, sweetheart?" he asked, as he moved some of the messy hair out of your face.
"Y-you'll take care of me after this right?"
"Of course, I always want to." cocking his head to the side, wondering why you even thought he wouldn't, "Why do you ask?"
"Because," you leaned back with the space that was left from underneath the desk, enough so that Mr. Seo could see you take your hand to your wet, almost completely sheer from your arousal, underwear "I think this needs taking care of."
His smirk only widened, throwing his head back in disbelief from how erotic you were. And that wasn't a problem, not at all. Frankly, it was what made him adore you so much. Not only were you at his beck and call, but you knew what you wanted from him.
"This is why you're my favorite out of all my daughter's friends."
“Happy birthday y/n!” Johnny greets you the moment you open your front door, pulling you into a tight hug too quickly that the gift bag swings and hits you on the back, making you groan even more into his chest. With you still in his embrace, he waddles the both of you into your house and you blindly try your best to not stumble backwards, laughing at the thought of how ridiculous the scene probably is.
He finally lets you go, closing the door swiftly behind him before holding up the bag excitedly, urging you to open it - in which you do and to your surprise,
“Are these...your t-shirts?” You ask dumbfoundedly, looking up to see him nodding nonchalantly, smiling proudly to himself.
“You always steal them so I thought...why not just donate some for those who are less fortunate than I.” He shrugs, plopping himself on the couch and pats the spot next to him, you follow and scoff, holding up one of the t-shirts that you’re oh so familiar with. yes..they still smell like him.
“Wow...you’re so very charitable kind sir.” You say sarcastically despite the growing smile on your face. Johnny never fails to surprise you. He stretches his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to him before smugly mumbling to your ear.
“It’s the thought that counts babe.”
You turn your head to face him, boldly leaning your chin on his shoulder and sigh lovingly, “What do I do with you, Johnny.” The guy stares back at you, his smug expression no longer visible, taken back by the proximity of your face to his.
But before he could say anything you quickly lean up to kiss his cheek, “Thank you, I do need them!” and you get up from the couch to put them away, only to be pulled back by the waist, comfortably sitting on his lap this time.
“I’m kidding I’m kidding! Let me take you out for brunch, the actual present is in the car.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your shoulder and squeezes you in his arms.
“Well I wasn’t complaining but that sounds like a good plan!”
