#Perfect computer classes | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

enhaflixer · 3 months ago

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campus crush!sunghoon x f!reader

stats class. keep ur glasses on when u fuck me. statistical analysis with ur tongue. thats abt it. sunghoon word porn ngl ENHA HARD HOURS (kinda) 18+ MDNI

You're late. Again.

The digital clock on your phone reads 3:10 PM as you sprint across campus, your backpack bouncing against your spine with each step. Statistics seminar started ten minutes ago, and Professor Clarke has definitely noticed your absence by now. Not that it's unusual—you've made it a habit to burst through those doors at exactly ten minutes past, a whirlwind of apologies and bright smiles.

"Sorry, sorry!" you announce as you push open the computer lab door, slightly out of breath.

Twenty pairs of eyes swivel toward you, but Professor Clarke doesn't even look up from his laptop at the front of the room.

"How kind of you to join us," he says dryly. "We were just assigning semester project partners."

You flash him your most charming smile as you slide into an empty seat. "Perfect timing then."

A few people laugh. You've mastered the art of diffusing tension with humor, of making your tardiness seem like a quirky character trait rather than a genuine inability to manage time. It's gotten you this far in university.

"As I was saying," Professor Clarke continues, "this statistical analysis project will count for forty percent of your grade. You and your assigned partner will select a dataset, develop a hypothesis, and use STATA to analyze your findings." He gestures to the complex statistical software displayed on the projector screen—the same software that has been giving you nightmares since week one.

You glance around the room, hoping you'll be paired with Olivia or Zara—friends who wouldn't mind carrying the team if necessary. But when Professor Clarke reads off, "Sunghoon Park and..." followed by your name, your heart does something unexpected.

It skips.

You've noticed him before—it's hard not to. He always sits in the same spot three rows from the front, always arrives fifteen minutes early, always has his notebook open at the exact moment class begins.

What you haven't fully appreciated until now, as you turn to locate him in the room, is just how devastatingly handsome he is. His dark eyes find yours immediately behind stylish wire-rimmed glasses that give him an irresistible intellectual appeal. One corner of his perfectly shaped mouth lifts in the smallest acknowledgment, and a strand of black hair falls across his forehead when he nods at you. The combination of his reserved demeanor and model-worthy looks creates an effect that makes your stomach flip. He's the definition of a hot nerd—the kind that makes you temporarily forget about statistical analysis altogether and wonder what he'd look like with those glasses slightly askew, his usually perfect hair disheveled.

After partnering announcements finish, Professor Clarke instructs everyone to move next to their assigned partners to discuss project ideas.

You gather your things and make your way to Sunghoon's station, dropping into the chair beside him with dramatic flair.

"Fair warning," you say brightly, "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing with this software. Like, none. Zero. Statistical analysis to me is deciding which café has the shortest queue."

You expect a sigh or a look of disappointment—it's what most serious students do when they realize they've been paired with you. Instead, Sunghoon's expression softens.

"It's okay," he says quietly, his voice carrying just a hint of an accent. "I'm... not an expert either."

"But you always look so focused during class," you say, gesturing to his immaculate notes.

He shrugs, the movement slight and controlled. "I write everything down. Doesn't mean I understand it all."

When he opens the STATA program and navigates through a few screens with apparent ease, you lean closer.

"Okay, so you're being modest. You definitely know more than I do."

"Barely," he admits, and you catch the faintest hint of a smile—not the polite one from before, but something genuine that makes you want to see it again. "I just know how to make it look like I know what I'm doing."

"That's an important life skill," you laugh, pulling your chair closer to see his screen better. "So what kind of data are we analyzing? Please say something fun like ice cream consumption versus happiness levels."

Sunghoon doesn't laugh, but his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners. "Actually," he says, "we can choose almost anything that interests us."

You bump his shoulder lightly with yours. "See? We're going to be great partners. I bring the wild ideas, you bring the common sense."

"Is that what they call it?" he asks, and there's a hint of playfulness in his voice that catches you off guard.

"What would you call it?" you challenge.

He considers for a moment, adjusting his glasses with a single finger pushed against the bridge. The gesture shouldn't be as attractive as it is. "Survival instinct."

You laugh, genuinely surprised. "So I'm dangerous?"

"No," he says, turning slightly to face you better. "Statistical software is dangerous. You're..." he pauses, seeming to search for the right word, "unpredictable."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant as one." The quiet confidence in his voice sends a small thrill through you.

Professor Clarke clears his throat at the front of the room. "I expect project proposals by the end of next week. Choose your dataset carefully—it will determine the scope of your entire project."

You glance at the clock. Only fifteen minutes of class remain.

"So, partner," you say, lowering your voice as Professor Clarke continues, "when should we meet to figure this out? I promise I'll try not to be ten minutes late."

Sunghoon's mouth quirks up at one corner. "Would you actually show up if I said 8 AM at the library?"

"Now you're just testing me," you whisper back.

"Coffee shop after class on Thursday?" he suggests instead, his voice equally quiet. "The one behind the science building?"

"Beans & Books? You've got good taste." You nod approvingly. "I practically live there between classes."

"I know," he says, then immediately looks as if he wishes he could take it back.

"You know?" You raise an eyebrow, intrigued and slightly pleased.

A faint color appears high on his cheekbones. "I've seen you there. You always order something different and then type furiously on your laptop."

The fact that he's noticed you before, observed your habits even, gives you a little flutter of satisfaction. "And what do you order, Sunghoon Park? Let me guess—plain black coffee, no sugar."

His eyebrows lift slightly. "Close. Earl Grey tea."

"Of course," you nod sagely. "Sophisticated."

When class ends, you gather your things slowly, suddenly reluctant to leave. Sunghoon stands, slinging his messenger bag across his chest in one smooth motion.

"Thursday, then," he says, as if confirming an important business meeting.

"It's a date," you reply with deliberate casualness, watching his reaction.

His expression remains mostly neutral, but you don't miss the quick blink, the slight pause before he nods. "For statistics," he clarifies, but the slight upturn of his lips betrays him.

"For statistics," you agree solemnly, though you're already wondering what other subjects you might explore together.

The coffee shop meeting goes surprisingly well. What you expected to be an hour of awkward dataset discussions turns into three hours of conversation that meanders far beyond statistics. Sunghoon, it turns out, has layers beneath his reserved exterior—he plays piano, reads philosophy for fun, and has a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard and makes you laugh harder than you have in weeks.

By the end of the evening, you've not only selected your dataset (coffee consumption versus academic performance—your suggestion, which he surprisingly agreed to), but you've also learned that his stammer appears when he's either nervous or passionate about a topic. You find both instances equally endearing.

When Friday's class rolls around, something shifts. You arrive only five minutes late (progress), and the space beside Sunghoon, which is usually empty, now seems to be waiting for you. You slide into the seat and he glances up from his notebook, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that's becoming familiar.

"You're almost on time," he says quietly, amusement in his eyes.

"Don't get used to it," you reply, but there's no bite to your words.

Throughout the class, your awareness of him is heightened—the way his brow furrows when he's concentrating, how his fingers tap thoughtfully against the desk when Professor Clarke asks a difficult question, the scent of his cologne when he leans closer to point something out on your screen.

After class, you find yourself hesitating as you pack up your things, watching as he meticulously organizes his notes.

"So," you begin, aiming for casual, "I was thinking... we should probably meet again this weekend to work on the project." You pause. "My roommate's gone for the weekend. We could use my dorm? Fewer distractions than the coffee shop."

Sunghoon looks up, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nods. "That would be... efficient."

You laugh at his choice of words. "Very statistical of you."

"I meant—" he starts, a hint of that stammer appearing.

"I know what you meant," you interrupt, grinning. "Saturday at four?"

He nods, adjusting his glasses. "I'll bring the data analysis. You bring the coffee."

"Deal."

Saturday arrives, and for the first time in your university career, you spend thirty minutes tidying your room before a study session. You tell yourself it's just basic courtesy, not because you care what Sunghoon thinks of your living space.

At precisely four o'clock, there's a knock at your door. Punctual as always.

You open it to find Sunghoon standing there in jeans and a simple button-down shirt, his laptop bag slung across his body. He's swapped his usual wire-frames for slightly thicker black glasses that somehow make him look even more attractive—scholarly but with an edge.

"You're making me look bad with this punctuality thing," you say by way of greeting, stepping aside to let him in.

"Sorry?" he offers, clearly unsure if he's actually done something wrong.

You laugh. "I'm joking. Come in."

Your dorm room is standard—bed, desk, small seating area with a loveseat and coffee table—but you've made it yours with art on the walls and plants on every available surface. Sunghoon takes it all in with curious eyes.

"I like your space," he says, and it sounds genuine.

"Thanks. Where should we set up? Desk or coffee table?"

"Either is fine," he says, that formal politeness still present even after your hours in the coffee shop.

You end up at the coffee table, sitting side by side on the loveseat, laptops open. For an hour, you actually make progress on the project. Sunghoon explains correlations in a way that finally makes sense, and you discover you have a talent for visualizing data in creative ways that makes his eyes light up with approval.

But as the afternoon wears on, the small space means your shoulders keep brushing, your knees occasionally touch, and each point of contact feels increasingly deliberate. When you reach for your coffee at the same moment he reaches for his tea, your hands collide, and neither of you pulls away immediately.

"Sorry," you both say at once, and then laugh.

"Great minds," you add, but you're distracted by how his eyes look behind those glasses, warm and focused entirely on you.

At some point, you shift positions, both of you turning toward each other to discuss a particularly complicated aspect of your analysis. Your knees are definitely touching now, and the loveseat suddenly seems much smaller than it did an hour ago.

"So if we compare these variables..." he's saying, but you're watching his mouth form the words more than listening to their meaning.

"Hmm?" you say, forcing your attention back to the screen.

He turns to look at you fully, and you realize how close your faces are. "You're not listening," he says, but there's no accusation in his voice.

"I'm distracted," you admit.

"By statistics?"

"By you."

The words hang in the air between you. Sunghoon blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to something more intense. He swallows visibly, and you watch the movement in his throat.

"I'm... distracting?" he asks, his voice lower than before.

"Extremely." Your eyes lock on his glasses, the way they frame his dark eyes, how they complete his devastatingly attractive intellectual look. "Especially with these on."

His eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. "The glasses?"

"God, yes," you breathe, moving closer. "You have no idea how fucking hot you look in them."

A flush spreads across his cheeks, but there's a new confidence in the way he holds your gaze. Without warning, he pulls you forward into a kiss that has nothing of his usual restraint. His laptop slides forgotten to the coffee table as you shift closer, and then somehow you're straddling his lap, your hands on either side of his face as you deepen the kiss.

When you break apart to breathe, his glasses are slightly askew. You straighten them gently, then run your fingers through his usually immaculate hair, deliberately messing it up while keeping the glasses perfectly in place.

"You're so sexy," you murmur against his mouth. "I've been thinking about this since the first day we were paired up."

His hands find your hips, holding you firmly against him. "I find that... statistically improbable," he manages, but his breathing is as uneven as yours.

"I'll show you improbable," you whisper, grinding down deliberately. His glasses fog slightly from the heat between you, and the sight sends a thrill through your body. "So fucking hot," you repeat, unable to stop yourself.

His hands slide beneath your shirt, exploring with a surprising boldness that makes you gasp. "We should—" he starts, breathing heavily.

“Yes,” you agree, already pulling him up from the loveseat, walking backwards toward your bed while keeping his mouth on yours. “The project can definitely wait.”

You fall back onto the mattress, pulling him down with you, careful not to knock his glasses off as he hovers above you. They’ve fogged again from the heat between your bodies, and something about that sight—this controlled, precise man coming undone while still looking every bit the hot intellectual—pushes you past any remaining hesitation.

“Leave them on,” you insist when he reaches to remove his glasses. “Please.”

His lips curve into a smile that’s nothing like his usual restrained expressions—this one is knowing, almost wicked. “If that’s what you want,” he murmurs, lowering his mouth to your neck.

“It’s definitely what I want,” you gasp as his teeth graze your skin. “Along with… everything else.”

There’s a playful air to each touch, a slow building of tension as you both start to peel away layers. You tug at the hem of his shirt first, sliding it up inch by tantalizing inch until he lifts his arms to help you pull it off. He returns the favor by slipping a hand under your blouse, fingertips teasing over your ribs. Every time he tries to hasten the pace, you grin and slow him down, dragging the fabric just a bit more before letting it fall away, leaving him momentarily breathless. The sound he makes—caught somewhere between a groan and a laugh—sends a thrill through you.

Time seems to blur as clothing is discarded piece by piece, inhibitions falling away with each new revelation of skin. The afternoon sunlight filters through your curtains, casting everything in a warm glow.

At some point, you find yourself above him, both of you completely bare except for his glasses, which have somehow remained perfectly in place despite everything. You pause for a moment, taking in the sight of him beneath you—all lean muscle and flushed skin, those wire-rimmed glasses still perched on his nose, slightly fogged from the heat between your bodies.

“You’re staring,” he whispers, a vulnerability in his voice despite the intimate position.

“Can you blame me?” You lean down, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, then another, and another, each one growing more insistent. “God, look at you.”

His hands find your hips, steadying you as you continue to kiss him, his glasses occasionally bumping against your face in a way that only heightens your desire. There's something impossibly erotic about him being completely naked except for those glasses—the contrast between his exposed body and that one remnant of his studious, put-together appearance.

"You're so fucking sexy," you breathe against his mouth. "How does anyone focus in that statistics class with you sitting there looking like this?"

He laughs softly, the sound vibrating against your lips. "I could ask you the same question."

Your kisses become more urgent, your bodies moving together with increasing need. The heat between you builds with each touch, each whispered encouragement. Sunghoon's usually careful movements grow bolder, more instinctive, as your hands explore each other's bodies. His glasses, still perfectly perched on his nose, begin to fog at the edges first—just a light mist that catches the dim light of your room. But as your passion intensifies, as your breathing grows more ragged and synchronized, the lenses cloud completely.

When you pull back to look at him, you can't help but laugh softly at the sight—this brilliantly composed man now completely blinded by the evidence of your shared desire, those glasses that make him look so irresistibly intellectual now rendered useless by the heat radiating between your bodies. To your surprise, he laughs too—not the polite chuckle you've heard in class or the soft amusement from your coffee shop conversations, but a genuine, uninhibited sound that seems to come from somewhere deep inside him. It's rich and warm and completely unguarded.

"I can't see a thing," he admits, his voice husky with desire and amusement. His hands find your face despite his temporary blindness, thumbs tracing your cheekbones with unexpected precision. "But I don't need to see to know exactly where you are."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your breath catching as his fingers trail down your neck, across your collarbone, mapping you with deliberate attention.

"I've been studying you," he murmurs, his touch making you shiver despite the heat between you. "Memorizing. Analyzing patterns." His hands continue their exploration, finding every sensitive spot with remarkable accuracy. "It's very... statistical."

You laugh against his mouth. "Only you could make statistics sound sexy."

Through the fogged lenses, you can just barely make out how his eyes darken at your words. "I have other statistical terms I could demonstrate," he offers, surprising you again with his boldness. His accent becomes slightly more pronounced when he's like this—another detail you've grown to cherish.

"Show me," you whisper, and he does—his hands and mouth conducting a thorough analysis of cause and effect, of stimuli and response, until you're clutching at his shoulders and gasping his name. All while those fogged-up glasses remain perfectly in place, the final vestige of his composed exterior while everything else between you unravels into glorious chaos.

You’re already bare beneath him, skin flushed from teasing and anticipation, but the only thing still clinging to his body—those damn glasses—make it so much worse. Or better. Definitely better.

Sunghoon hovers over you, gaze dark behind the lenses, lips swollen and slightly parted as he takes in the sight of you. You should be embarrassed at how wanton you must look, legs spread for him, body already trembling, but he’s the one who looks wrecked. His composure is gone, shattered somewhere between the desperate kisses and the way you dragged your nails down his back.

His lips quirk. “Still want me to leave them on?”

“Don’t even think about taking them off.”

His smile turns wicked, and then he’s moving—kissing, sucking, trailing his mouth down your body with purpose. His fingers dig into your thighs, spreading you wider, and then he’s right there—close enough that you can feel the ghost of his breath against you, the heat of it making your stomach clench.

He doesn’t start slow. No teasing, no light flicks of his tongue just to test the waters. Sunghoon eats you like he’s been starving for this, like he’s been waiting for the moment he could taste you, drown in you. His tongue is hot and relentless, curling against you just right, pressing where you need him most, sending shockwaves through every nerve in your body.

But what really undoes you is the feeling of his glasses pressing against your inner thighs, the cold metal contrasting with the heat of his mouth. Every time he moves, every time he adjusts his angle, the frames shift against your skin—slightly rough, slightly smooth, a reminder of exactly who is between your legs and how absolutely ruined he’s making you.

You fist the sheets, hips jerking up into his mouth, but he pins you down effortlessly, a strong arm wrapped around your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. He groans when you tug at his hair, the vibrations shooting through you, making you gasp his name.

“Fuck, Sunghoon—”

His response is a low hum against your clit, and your whole body shakes. You feel the damp heat of his breath, the slick slide of his tongue, but more than anything, you feel the weight of those goddamn glasses as they drag along your skin, fogging up even more, smudging against your inner thigh every time he moves deeper, harder, sloppier.

The sheer filth of it makes you clench around nothing.

Sunghoon notices, because of course he does—because he’s been studying you this whole time, memorizing what makes you gasp, what makes your thighs tremble around his head. And he’s smug about it, too, because when he pulls back just enough to glance up at you, lips glistening, glasses just barely slipping down his nose, he smirks.

“You like that, don’t you?” His voice is raspy, breathless, wrecked.

You don’t even try to deny it. “Yes—God, yes, don’t stop.”

Sunghoon’s smirk deepens, and he doesn’t make you beg for it. He dives right back in, tongue flicking, sucking, his grip on your thighs tightening as you lose yourself completely. The drag of his glasses, the precise way he adjusts his angle to push you higher, the way he groans into you like he’s getting off on this just as much as you are—it’s too much.

The coil in your stomach snaps hard, pleasure crashing over you so intensely that you barely realize you’re pulling at his hair, moaning his name like a prayer, like you might fall apart completely if he stops.

Sunghoon doesn’t stop. Not right away. He works you through the aftershocks, his tongue slow, methodical, lazy in a way that makes you shudder from overstimulation. Only when your body twitches beneath him does he finally pull away, chin glistening, glasses fucking ruined.

You’re still gasping when he crawls back up your body, hovering over you, his mouth right there, his glasses so close you can see the way they’re fogged-up and smudged with sweat.

When you finally collapse beside each other, spent and satisfied, his glasses are askew once more. You reach over to straighten them, and he catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"So," you say, when you've caught your breath, "should we tell Professor Clarke we've found an interesting correlation to study?"

Sunghoon laughs, the sound free and unrestrained in a way you hadn't heard before today. "I don't think this is what he had in mind for the assignment."

"His loss," you murmur, snuggling closer. "I'd say our statistical analysis was very... thorough."

"We should probably actually work on the project at some point," he says, but makes no move to get up.

"Tomorrow," you promise, running a finger along his jawline. "I think we need to collect more data first."

His eyebrow raises above the rim of his glasses. "For the sake of academic integrity?"

"Absolutely," you agree solemnly, before dissolving into laughter.

The statistics of probability have never been so compelling.

Over the next few weeks, your statistics class takes on an entirely new dimension. What was once your least favorite part of the week has become the highlight—not because you've suddenly developed a passion for data analysis, but because of the subtle dance that unfolds between you and Sunghoon twice a week in that computer lab.

The Monday after your "study session," you arrive to class five minutes early—a personal record. Sunghoon is already there, of course, and the moment he sees you, his ears turn slightly pink. When you slide into the seat next to him, now officially your spot, he gives you a small smile that feels like a secret.

"You're early," he says, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

"I had motivation," you reply, letting your knee brush against his under the desk.

His eyes flicker to your lips for a fraction of a second before returning to his notebook. "I hope it wasn't just for... statistical analysis."

"Depends on how you define statistics," you whisper just as Professor Clarke calls the class to order.

Throughout the lecture, you're acutely aware of every movement Sunghoon makes—how he adjusts his glasses when he's thinking, the precise way he takes notes, the occasional glance he throws your way when he thinks you're not looking. Halfway through class, you deliberately drop your pen between you. When you both reach for it, your fingers touch, and he doesn't pull away. Instead, he hooks his pinky finger over yours for just a moment before handing you the pen. The small gesture sends a flutter through your chest.

After class, you walk together to the coffee shop without needing to discuss it. Somehow, it's already become your routine.

"How's the dataset compilation going?" he asks as you find a small table in the corner.

"That's what you want to talk about right now? Really?" You raise an eyebrow.

A faint smile plays at his lips. "We do have a project due in three weeks."

"Always so responsible," you sigh dramatically, but there's fondness in your voice. "It's going fine. I've got the coffee consumption survey data from about fifty students so far."

He nods approvingly. "That's a decent sample size for our purposes."

When your drinks arrive—his Earl Grey and your excessively complicated latte—you notice something different about him. He's still quiet, still thoughtful, but there's a new ease to his movements, a softness around his eyes when he looks at you.

"What?" he asks, catching you studying him.

"Nothing," you say, then reconsider. "Actually, not nothing. You seem... different."

He takes a sip of his tea, considering. "I feel different," he admits after a moment. "With you."

The simple sincerity of his words catches you off guard. For all your flirtatious confidence, his straightforward honesty disarms you completely.

"Good different?" you ask, suddenly feeling shy.

"Very good different," he confirms, and beneath the table, his foot rests against yours. Not by accident.

By the third week, you've fallen into patterns that blend the academic with the intimate. Your Tuesday and Thursday afternoons are devoted to actual project work—usually in the library where the public setting keeps you reasonably focused.

Your Saturday “study sessions” in your dorm room are significantly less productive in the statistical sense, though you joke that you’re certainly collecting plenty of data on other variables.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes every time you say it, but you know he loves it—loves how eager, how shameless you are when it comes to him. Because every time you spread your legs for him, every time you drag him into another compromising position, he never tells you no.

Case Study #1: The Textbooks

It starts with an innocent enough setup—Sunghoon sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against your bed, flipping through a statistics textbook while you sit across from him, pretending to study. But it’s boring. He looks too good in his glasses, sleeves rolled up, the slightest furrow in his brow as he concentrates. And before you even realize you’re moving, you’re crawling into his lap, straddling him right there on top of the book.

He barely has time to exhale your name before you sink down onto him, making both of you groan.

The hardcover digs into your knees, the pages creasing beneath you, but you couldn’t care less. Sunghoon is buried inside you, stretching you open, warm and deep and perfect, and the only data you’re analyzing is how his breath stutters when you roll your hips just right.

“Fuck, you’re unreal—” he pants, hands gripping your waist, watching you through the slightly fogged lenses of his glasses as you use him, ride him slow, grind on him like you want to ruin him.

You do. You want to wreck him just as much as he’s wrecking you. The friction, the delicious drag, the way his hands squeeze your hips to urge you to go faster, harder—it all shreds your self-control.

By the time you both come undone, gasping and clinging to each other, the textbook beneath you is thoroughly creased, sticky, ruined. Neither of you even bother looking at it.

Case Study #2: The Desk Chair

Another Saturday, another useless attempt at studying.

Sunghoon’s seated at your desk this time, one leg lazily spread, hand bracing his forehead as he tries to focus. But you’re kneeling between his legs, and the moment you reach for his zipper, his entire body tenses.

“You’re insatiable.”

“And?” You tug his pants down just enough to free him, palming his length, watching him harden in your hand as his breathing turns shallow.

He leans back, exhaling sharply when your lips part and you take him deep. His hand finds the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as you swirl your tongue around him, tease him, make him fall apart.

His glasses slip down his nose as he watches you, half-lidded and dazed, jaw slack as you take him deeper, sucking, hollowing your cheeks, making obscene little noises that drive him insane.

He trembles when he finally spills down your throat, groaning your name, head thrown back against the chair.

And the moment he catches his breath, he drags you into his lap, flips you onto the desk, and fucks you stupid.

Case Study #3: Against the Window

Another week. Another “study session.” Another location.

This time, you find yourself pressed against the glass of your dorm window, palms splayed, breath fogging the pane as Sunghoon pounds into you from behind.

The curtains are open.

You don’t know if anyone can see—if someone walking by on the street below can look up and spot your bare body, the lewd way you’re bent over, Sunghoon’s hands gripping your hips as he drives into you with punishing force.

But you don’t care.

All you care about is the way he grunts into your ear, his glasses slightly askew, one hand slipping down to rub your clit, making you jerk and gasp his name as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

“Keep your eyes open,” he growls, voice thick with lust, dragging his lips along your shoulder. “Look outside. Look at what a mess you are.”

Case Study #4: The Shower

It’s late, and you should be asleep. But instead, you’re pressed up against the tiled wall of your tiny dorm shower, water scalding hot, steam curling around you as Sunghoon lifts you up, holds you against him, and fucks you slow, deep.

His glasses are gone, finally.

They’d fogged up the moment he stepped into the shower, and the second you’d made a joke about it, he’d taken them off and set them on the sink. But you don’t miss them too much—not when his mouth is on your throat, sucking bruises into your wet skin, not when his fingers dig into your thighs, keeping you in place as he rolls his hips into you with exquisite precision.

You come twice before you finally stumble out of the shower, exhausted, dripping, completely spent.

And the moment you walk back into your dorm room, still naked, Sunghoon picks up his glasses, slides them back on, and gives you a look that tells you he’s nowhere near finished with you.

Case Study #5: The Floor (Again, Because You Can’t Stop)

At this point, you don’t even make it to the bed.

You’re both desperate, panting, **clawing at each other like you can’t stand the idea of being apart for another second.**The moment Sunghoon pushes you onto the floor, you’re already wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him down, gasping when he fills you in one smooth thrust.

It’s fast, dirty, messy.

He grits out your name, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, holding you open as he slams into you, pace brutal, relentless. The carpet burns on your back will be worth it.

He loses his glasses at some point, but you don’t even notice—you’re too busy coming apart beneath him, clawing at his back, moaning his name like you’ll never get enough of him.

Maybe you won’t.

Because the second you catch your breath, still tangled up in him, you’re already thinking about where you’ll fuck next.

What surprises you most is how much you enjoy both versions of your time together. The project, which should be tedious, becomes engaging through Sunghoon's perspective. He has a way of finding patterns in chaos that makes even the driest data seem fascinating. And through your influence, he's learning to approach problems more creatively, to see beyond the rigid frameworks he's always relied on.

"What if we visualize it this way instead?" you suggest one Tuesday, sketching a completely unorthodox chart on the margin of his meticulously organized notes.

His initial reaction is skepticism—you can see it in the slight furrow of his brow—but he considers it longer than he would have three weeks ago.

"It's unconventional," he says finally.

"But?"

"But it might actually work better for presenting the correlation," he concedes, and the smile you give him is so bright it makes the student at the next table look over.

In class, Professor Clarke notices the change in both of you. Your questions become more insightful, Sunghoon's responses more animated. When you present your initial findings mid-semester, the professor actually seems impressed by your unusual approach to visualization.

"An interesting methodology," he comments, adjusting his own glasses in a way that reminds you of Sunghoon. "Unorthodox, but effective."

You beam at Sunghoon, who ducks his head slightly but can't hide his pleased expression.

After class, he catches your hand as you're packing up—a gesture he would never have initiated before.

"We make a good team," he says quietly.

"The best," you agree, squeezing his fingers before reluctantly letting go. Public displays still make him slightly uncomfortable, and you respect his boundaries.

It's during a rainy Friday evening in your dorm room, six weeks into your relationship (though neither of you has officially labeled it as such), that something shifts again.

You're sprawled on your bed with your laptop, Sunghoon sitting at your desk reviewing your latest statistical findings, his glasses reflecting the blue light of the screen. Classical music plays softly from his phone—another new development. He's been gradually introducing you to his favorite composers, and you've found you actually enjoy the background music while working.

"Your scatterplot is missing a data point," he says, turning to look at you.

"Mmm, probably deleted it accidentally," you reply, not looking up from your position. "Is it important?"

"All data points are important," he says, but there's amusement in his voice rather than criticism.

You roll onto your back, laptop balanced on your stomach. "That sounds like something that would be on a statistics department t-shirt. 'All data points matter.'"

He laughs—a sound that's become less rare but no less thrilling to hear. "I'd wear it."

"Of course you would," you tease. "With your glasses and a pocket protector."

He makes a face at you. "I don't own a pocket protector."

"Yet," you add with a grin.

He shakes his head, turning back to the screen, but you catch the smile he tries to hide. After a moment, he speaks again without looking at you.

"My parents want to meet you."

You sit up so quickly your laptop nearly slides off your stomach. "What?"

Now he turns, his expression a mixture of nervousness and something softer. "I mentioned you during our weekly call. Multiple times, apparently. My mother... noticed."

"You talk about me to your parents?" You can't keep the pleased surprise from your voice.

He adjusts his glasses, a gesture you now recognize as his tell when he's feeling vulnerable. "It seems I do."

"What do you tell them?" You set your laptop aside, giving him your full attention.

"That you're brilliant in ways I'm not. That you see solutions I miss." He pauses. "That you make statistics class the best part of my week."

Your heart does that skipping thing it did the first day Professor Clarke paired you together, only stronger now.

"Sunghoon Park," you say softly, "are you saying I'm statistically significant to you?"

His expression turns serious, though his eyes remain gentle. "With a p-value approaching zero," he replies, and though it's phrased as a joke, his tone makes it clear it's anything but.

In statistics, a p-value approaching zero indicates an extremely high likelihood that an observed effect is real and not due to chance. It's the closest thing to certainty that statistics allows.

You cross the room to where he sits, gently taking his face between your hands. His glasses are slightly smudged, and you resist the urge to clean them, focusing instead on the eyes behind them.

"So," you say, "when do I meet these parents who raised such a statistically significant nerd?"

He laughs, pulling you into his lap in a move that would have seemed impossibly bold from him just weeks ago. "They're visiting next weekend. Dinner on Saturday?"

"I'm there," you promise, sealing it with a kiss.

The day of your semester project presentation arrives with an unexpected lack of anxiety. You're prepared—more prepared than you've been for any academic presentation in your life. Partly because the subject has actually become interesting to you, but mostly because working on it meant spending hours with Sunghoon.

You stand beside him at the front of the class, watching him explain your methodology with a confidence that wasn't there at the beginning of the semester. His voice is still quiet, still measured, but there's a strength behind it now, an assurance that comes from truly understanding his material. When he gestures to your creative visualization on the screen, there's a hint of pride in his voice that makes your chest warm.

When it's your turn to present, you catch him watching you with undisguised admiration. You explain the correlations you found between different types of coffee consumption and various academic performance metrics, throwing in jokes that make the class laugh and complex statistical terms that make Professor Clarke nod approvingly.

"And in conclusion," you finish, "we found that while caffeine consumption generally correlates with improved academic performance up to a point, the type of environment in which the coffee is consumed may be an equally significant factor."

"Furthermore," Sunghoon adds, stepping forward to stand beside you, shoulder to shoulder, "we discovered that the companionship variable—whether students studied alone or with others—showed the strongest positive correlation with both satisfaction and performance outcomes."

His eyes meet yours for a brief moment, and you know he's not just talking about the data anymore.

When Professor Clarke gives your presentation an A and commends your "complementary analytical approaches," you resist the urge to high-five Sunghoon in front of everyone. Instead, you wait until you're outside the building, then throw your arms around him in celebration.

To your surprise, he lifts you slightly off the ground in his enthusiasm, spinning once before setting you down, his face flushed with excitement and mild embarrassment at his own uncharacteristic display.

"We did it," he says, adjusting his glasses which were knocked askew by your hug.

"Was there ever any doubt?" you reply, reaching up to straighten them properly. "We're statistically significant, remember?"

His smile softens, and right there on the path outside the statistics building, with students streaming past on their way to other classes, he kisses you without hesitation or self-consciousness.

"What was that for?" you ask when he pulls away, delighted but surprised by the public display.

"I've been collecting data," he says, his eyes crinkling behind those glasses you've grown to love, "and I've formed a hypothesis."

"Oh?" You raise an eyebrow. "And what hypothesis is that, Mr. Park?"

He takes your hand, lacing his fingers through yours as you begin walking toward the coffee shop that's become your place.

"That I'm in love with you," he says simply. "And unlike most statistical conclusions, I'm one hundred percent certain."

You stop walking, turning to face him fully. "That's a bold statistical claim. Absolute certainty is rare in your field."

"I have compelling evidence," he counters, and the confidence in his voice, so different from the hesitant student you met months ago, makes your heart race.

"I might need to review your data," you tease, though your voice catches slightly.

"Extensive observation over time," he begins, stepping closer. "Consistent results across multiple variables. Reproducible effects." His voice drops lower. "Significant positive impact on all quality-of-life metrics."

"Very scientific," you murmur, your hands finding their way to his chest.

"I thought so," he agrees, his eyes serious despite the playful exchange. "So my conclusion stands."

You rise on your tiptoes, pressing your forehead to his. "Well, as someone who's conducted a parallel study, I can confirm your findings. The evidence suggests I'm in love with you too."

His smile, rare and full, lights up his entire face. "Independently verified results. The best kind."

“Should we celebrate this breakthrough with coffee?” you suggest, already knowing his answer.

“I was thinking maybe we skip the coffee today,” he says, surprising you again. “I have other hypotheses I’d like to test.”

“Professor Clarke would be shocked at your dedication to statistical research,” you laugh, letting him lead you in the direction of your dorm instead of the coffee shop.

“Some variables,” he says with newfound confidence, “are worth studying in depth.”

You lean in close, pressing your lips right against the shell of his ear, and whisper the kind of filth that would make even the most shameless person blush.

“Then why don’t you pin me down the second we walk through that door, shove your face between my legs, and eat me so fucking good I forget my own name? And when I can’t take anymore, you’ll flip me over and fuck me like you’re trying to imprint yourself inside me—deep, rough, until I’m crying and drooling on the sheets, too dumb to do anything but take it.”

Sunghoon stops breathing.

You feel the exact moment your words hit him—his entire body locks up, his grip on your wrist tightens, his jaw clenches so hard you swear you hear his teeth grind.

His glasses fog immediately.

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a curse and a choked groan, and then he’s moving.

Not just moving—dragging you, fast, purposeful, like a man on a mission.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters under his breath, voice wrecked, dangerous, and it sends a thrill straight through you.

By the time you reach your dorm, he’s already reaching for the door handle, barely keeping himself together, and the second it clicks shut behind you—

You know he’s about to make good on every single word you just whispered.

That, by any metric, was statistically significant indeed.

TL: @ziiao @beariegyu @seonhoon @somuchdard @naurwayyyyy @bloomiize @zzhengyu @annybah @ijustwannareadstuff20 @ddolleri @elairah @dreamy-carat @geniejunn @kristynaaah @zoemeltigloos @mellowgalaxystrawberry @inlovewithningning @vveebee @m3wkledreamy @lovelycassy @highway-143 @koizekomi @tiny-shiny @simbabyikeu @cristy-101 @dearestdreamies @enhaverse713586 @cybe4 @starniras @wonuziex

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smileysuh · 2 months ago

Text

no face

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. Wonwoo is even more gorgeous than you’d ever imagined the anonymous No Face being, and this time, when you close your eyes to listen to the cam boy moan, you imagine your history partner above you, his hand down your pants as he rubs you closer and closer to the edge.

tw/cw. Unprotected sex, mutual masterbation, mention of cam shows/watching cam shows, extreme dirty talk, alter ago dom cam boy Wonwoo, pussy eating oral, multiple reader orgasms, overstimulation, praise, encouragement, multiple sex scenes, fingering, body/breast worship, etc… I pet names: (hers) baby.

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.6k

🍭 aus. Svt cam boy au, frat au, university au, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. This is part 1 of a 3 part cam boy svt au. Each story can be read as a stand alone, but exists within the same universe :) Wonwoo is April, Seungcheol is May, and Mingyu will be in June. As soon as all 3 are up, a masterlist will be created, which will then be linked here.

Prologue:

You never thought you’d be the type of girl to enjoy watching men get off through a computer. But then someone had recommended a cam boy to you, and one video had hooked you unlike anything else.

Being in university isn’t easy. It’s stress on stress on more stress and then a little bit extra stress just to round things out- and sometimes, a girl just has to get her rocks off without worries.

To you, cam boy No Face is the perfect distraction.

This faceless man, who usually films from the shoulders down. There’s something so specific and endearing about him. His pretty veiny hands, forearms showed off by black compression shirts with the sleeves rolled up-

His sounds are also like heaven, and sometimes you close your eyes and just listen to him, imagining he’s the one getting you off.

People talk about the dangers of porn, but fuck it, being a tad addicted to No Face is your own kind of dark chocolate and red wine, and no one is going to make you feel bad about needing an outlet for your pent up sexual energy.

He’s a gamer too, a faceless one the likes of Corpse Husband and Dream (before the face reveal of course), and you love the fact that he’s multidimensional.

When you’re studying, his gaming streams are in the background, and when you’re done studying and ready to reward yourself, it’s straight to his OnlyFans.

Recently, he’s taken to wearing a neon blue accented purge face mask, and you love the way his dark curls obscure around the plastic.

He’s a handsome man, you can just feel it in your bones, and you can feel your orgasm roll through every inch of your entire body every time you cum with the help of No Face.

One:

History classes can be a bit of a bore at times, and as someone of a recluse, you don’t get the joy of friendly chats with other girlies. No, history is your solitary work load, which is why you’re dreading the group project that’s being set up today.

The teacher gives students the benefit of choosing their own partners. This isn’t high school, and your professor knows most people already have connections that work well for this sort of thing… most people.

You look around as people pair up, and you feel like there’s a frog in your throat. You don’t have it within you to make that leap, to ask someone to be your partner-

Which is when you notice the other antisocial person who sits at the back of the class. He’s handsome, with an angular bone structure. You’ve never once seen him smile, and that mirrored recluse nature throws you off a bit.

To make matters worse, he has dark curly hair, just like your No Face, and everytime you look at him, your mind conjures up whispered words of encouragement to throw you over the edge, and your panties get wet in history, which is a very inopportune time to be getting horny if you’re honest with yourself.

His eyes meet yours, and you immediately look away, but you can sense him standing up to talk to you.

“Do you have a partner?” he asks.

“Uh… not really.”

“Me neither.”

There’s an xawkward silence for a moment, and then you release a sigh, looking up at him. “So… should we do the project together.”

“Guess that makes sense.” He nods.

You tell him your name, and he introduces himself as Jeon Wonwoo. You exchange details and as he speaks, there’s something even more familiar about him, but you brush it off.

“So… when are you free?” Wonwoo asks, pulling you out of your daze.

“I could do the library after my last class ends, let’s say four oclock?”

“I’ll see you there.”

Two:

Wonwoo is easy enough to work with. He’s not very opinionated, and he has let you choose what topic you wanted to work on for your project. Now, the two of you are getting preliminary readings out of the way, looking into the online research that would provide the backbone of your argument for the essay portion.

You find yourself looking at him very frequently, after all, he’s a striking man, and you’re a horny girl who has been so busy doing university courses that you haven’t had the time to get laid in forever.

Your gaze dips, and you stare at his hands as he toys with his pencil. It must be some sort of anxiety calming repetitive behaviour, the way he flicks it, traces his thumb and pointer down the wood, then flicks it again.

As you’re looking at him, you notice the details of his fingers.

Although No Face’s cock is significantly - significantly - bigger than this tiny pencil, the phalic shape is the same. You’ve watched so many No Face videos, and Wonwoo’s fingers are undeniably the same as your favourite cam boy’s.

You feel like you’ve choked on air, and you look up at Wonwoo, imagining him with that neon blue purge mask.

He’s got the dark hair, the curls- he’s even wearing a black compression shirt today.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, drawing his attention immediately.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing, fuck, uh-” You look away, feeling your skin heat with embarrassment. “It’s just hot in here.”

Wonwoo simply gazes at you, and you find yourself standing up.

“I’m just going to pop outside for some air,” you tell him, not even waiting for a response as you grab your phone and dart away.

It’s only once you’re under the blue sky, feeling the cool air against your skin, that you’re able to take a moment.

You’re in a group project with your favourite gamer boy OnlyFans model, and you’re going to have to pretend as if you haven’t cum to his videos countless times.

If this is how you’re going to react every time he’s around - skin heating, heart racing, hands getting clammy - well, you’re in deep shit.

Three:

“No, I swear to God, Tina, my history project partner is No Face!”

Your friend is silent for a moment, simply watching you. “But like… how sure?”

“Tina!” You narrow your eyes at her with exasperation. “You know I watch him religiously!”

Tina nods. “I mean… there are rumours that some of the Sigma Veta Tau frat guys are into the whole cam thing, some of the sororities too.”

“Rumours?”

“Nothing confirmed, obviously, if any of them are in on that whole OnlyFans world, they’re smart enough to not show their faces.” Tina releases a sigh. “There’s a frat party tomorrow at SVT actually, maybe… we should go and I can see Wonwoo for myself.”

“Okay, but! Tina, I’m calling dibs.”

“You can’t call dibs! I showed him to you!” Tina argues.

“This isn’t time for girl code or anything else, I know you watch multiple streamers- No Face is the only one I watch, no one else has ever interested me. And I’m the one who made the connection! Tina, for real. Please.”

She releases a deep groan. “Fuck it. Fine. I guess. But if he hits on me, I’m going for it.”

“I guess you’re wearing a full sweater and showing no skin at the party tomorrow then.”

Four:

Wonwoo’s shocked to see you at his frat for a party. From being in classes with you for the first part of term, he’s pegged you as a shy and quiet type, much like himself. All month, he’s never seen you speak to anyone. You show up, take your seat at the very back of the room, and don’t open your mouth for anything.

Luckily for Wonwoo, he’s into the shy and quiet type. While his best friends are loud and boisterous, he could never see himself with a party girl, which is why he doesn’t have much of a social battery for being at his frat parties for longer than absolutely necessary.

Mingyu - the aforementioned loud and boisterous best friend - is next to Wonwoo, and Wonwoo can feel his gaze.

“Are you checking out that girl?” Mingyu asks.

“I have a class project with her,” Wonwoo responds casually, sipping his beer.

“She’s cute.”

Wonwoo simply shrugs, not wanting to divulge too deeply into his interest of you just yet. He’s a careful type, and with his scandalous online alter ego, he has to be.

“You should go get her a drink,” Mingyu continues.

“She’ll be fine.”

“If you don’t get her one, I will.”

Now Wonwoo turns to look at his friend, and the challenging gaze he receives in return makes him sigh. “Fine.”

“That’s my boy!” Mingyu grins, clapping Wonwoo on the back.

Despite Wonwoo’s confident persona online, he doesn’t have much experience with women. He’d gotten into the gaming scene first, learned how to be social and how to talk to followers of all types. Somehow that had translated to making an OnlyFans.

Choi Seungcheol, frat president, had seen his follower number on Twitch, and had suggested the creation of OnlyFans. Sex sells, and the business major had run the numbers. Cheol had broken down that if even one percent of Wonwoo’s following made the transfer to OnlyFans, Wonwoo could be making serious bank every month.

Both men were shocked to find a whopping five percent of Wonwoo’s followers had initially made the move with him to OnlyFans, and since then, that number has only grown.

Wonwoo tries to channel that confidence as he approaches you, and he kind of likes the way you jump when he gently touches your elbow to gain your attention.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you respond, eyes wide. You look like a frozen deer, caught in headlights, and Wonwoo’s not sure if he wants to swerve, or hit this whole thing with full force.

“Want a drink?”

You nod, and Wonwoo leads you to the kitchen, where he finds you a beer.

“I’ve never seen you at one of these things,” he notes, stepping closer to you so you can hear each other over the loud music.

“I’ve never been to one,” you admit.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Wonwoo asks next, although, he suspects he already knows the answer.

“Uh… it’s loud.”

“Do you want to move somewhere quieter?”

He notes the way you swallow thickly, the way your pupils blow- but you nod, and Wonwoo once again grabs your arm to gently lead you to a different destination in the house.

His room is on the third floor, and he’s one of the lucky few that doesn’t have a roommate. The sound dies down significantly as soon as the door is shut behind the both of you, and Wonwoo welcomes the reprieve.

“I like your set up,” you tell him, looking around at all the neon blue and the PC set up.

“Yeah, I’m a bit of a gaming fan.”

“I can see that.” You’re quiet for a moment, and then you ask, “What are your favourite games to play?”

“Call of Duty is fun, League of Legends, Fortnite, all the usual ones,” he responds, moving toward his bed, where he takes a seat.

“Ah, right.” You nod, taking a sip of your beer.

“Do you game?”

“I watch gamers more than I play, you know, something to have on in the background while I study.” Your eyes meet, and you quickly look away.

There’s something in your body language that is throwing Wonwoo off, and the fact that you’ve just mentioned you watch streamers is a bit of an indicator that things might not be all that they seem with you.

Could you know who he is?

Was bringing you up here a mistake?

If you’ve ever seen one of his Twitch streams, will you be able to make the connection between him and the room?

It’s not like his streams show a lot of the room, but they show enough- and neon blue is a bit of a signature colour of his.

Neither of you say anything, and then you take a quick breath. “Anyways, I’m here with my friend Tina, and she’s probably wondering where I am-”

“You should get back to it then,” Wonwoo tells you.

“Yeah. But uh… we’re still on for our library study thing on Monday, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Five:

When No Face puts up a new video on his OnlyFans, you take the opportunity to get a better look at his bedroom.

Two seconds into the video you’re convinced that your quiet history partner is, in fact, the notorious faceless gamer turned cam boy, and it makes your stomach turn into knots.

Is it bad to keep watching this, knowing what you now know?

Is it… disrespectful to Wonwoo to be watching him? To have your hand slowly snaking into your pants as your pussy gets wetter by the second?

Do you have any chance with him?

Is this whole thing a dream?

You’ve been obsessed with one gamer/cam boy in your life, and suddenly he’s your history partner?

You thank whatever God is out there for this coincidental and miraculous turn of events, and you let out a breath as you begin to toy with your clit, relaxing against your pillows.

No Face has such a pretty cock. It’s the perfect size, and it looks even better with his long, slender fingers wrapped around it.

You listen to his quiet moans, and they urge you to echo them as you masturbate in your room.

Wonwoo’s only ever filmed himself. He’s a strictly solo man… there’s a possibility you have a chance with him romantically - or maybe even just sexually. If he gives you any chance at all, you’ll take it, everything else be damned.

Wonwoo is even more gorgeous than you’d ever imagined the anonymous No Face being, and this time, when you close your eyes to listen to the cam boy moan, you imagine your history partner above you, his hand down your pants as he rubs you closer and closer to the edge.

Six:

You need at least one citation from a physical book for your report, so today, you and Wonwoo are perusing amongst the shelves, searching for a few titles you have identified for possible quotes.

Your heart is racing just from being near Wonwoo, and you sense his gaze more often than not.

“You okay?” Wonwoo asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re quiet today.”

“I’m always quiet,” you retort… quietly.

Wonwoo releases a chuckle, and you think it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him smile. The sight of his pretty pearly whites, the sharp canines, the way his eyes crinkle- it has your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“More quiet than usual,” Wonwoo corrects himself.

“I think you’re more talkative than usual,” you point out.

“Maybe.”

You take a breath, wondering if you should tell him that you know who he is.

If you tell him, it’s an admission that you’ve seen his Twitch or his OnlyFans- and you wonder if that will make him uncomfortable.

The two of you are quiet for another couple of minutes, but finally, you can’t take it anymore.

“I’m just going to say it,” you blurt out, drawing his eyes. “I know who you are.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re No Face, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo is quiet.

A groan escapes you. “Fuck, this whole thing is so uncomfortable, I shouldn’t have said anything, because now it’s going to make you uncomfortable-”

“I’m not uncomfortable,” he interjects.

“You’re not?”

Wonwoo shakes his head. “Just wondering which platform you’ve watched me on.”

Your heart lurches violently in your chest, and your throat all but closes up again. You choke a little on your response. “I, uh- I-”

“I’m guessing both,” Wonwoo concludes.

You’re gaze moves down the floor immediately, that familiar heat blooming through your skin, a sign of the embarrassment that surges through you.

“It’s kind of hot that you’ve watched me before,” Wonwoo sighs. “How could you tell it was me?”

“Your hands,” you say meekly.

“My hands?” You can hear the shock in his voice. “Wow, you must watch me a lot.”

“I do,” another half whimpered response, an embarrassed admittance of your cam boy loving ways.

“Don’t be shy about it,” Wonwoo tells you, and he steps closer. You instinctively move back, only for your shoulders to bump into the shelves behind you. It’s interesting how suddenly your history partner has changed from shy boy Wonwoo, to confident cam boy No Face, and you can feel your core getting wetter with each tension fueled moment. “I appreciate you being transparent with me.”

You finally look up at him, and you catch Wonwoo’s gaze dip to your lips.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Wonwoo is leaning in, and your body reacts on it’s own accord.

Your arms throw themselves around the back of his neck, and you press your lips to his. Your chests meet as Wonwoo wraps you in his embrace, his mouth hot as it moves on your own. He pushes you back against the shelves and you can’t even find it within yourself to care that you’re making out with him in a library.

There’s no shame as you make out with Wonwoo, accepting his tongue into your mouth with a delighted groan, there’s only intense pleasure, and an ecstasy like feeling of absolute elatedness that you’ve never experienced in your whole life.

Then- a sound in the periphery of your surroundings makes you jump, and you pull away from Wonwoo, looking around wildly.

“Shit,” you whisper, tearing yourself out of his embrace. “This was- uh, that was- um… I have to go!”

You find yourself running away, and you’re not even sure why. All you know is that you’re completely overwhelmed, and once again, being in the presence of the notorious No Face has you needing air like a fish out of water needs H2O.

Seven:

You shouldn’t be shocked when Wonwoo sits next to you in history class. He doesn’t say anything, but half way through the seminar, his hand moves to your knee.

Your heart is racing in your chest, a mix of anxiety and excitement. He hasn’t reached out to you since you ran away from him in the library, and you have no idea where you stand with him, so instead, you just stare at his hand.

There’s this general sense that you both deeply want each other, and it distracts you all the way until class is over.

As students stand up around you, hurrying to their next engagements, you turn to look at Wonwoo.

“What are we doing?”

“A project.”

“You know what I mean,” you sigh.

“We’re doing whatever you want.”

“Okay,” you take a breath. “But I’m shy, I don’t normally do hookups, and-”

“I don’t do hookups either.”

“You don’t?”

“There’s a reason I do solos,” Wonwoo points out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“Does the whole No Face thing bug you?” he enquires.

“Not really,” you admit. “I mean, in this day and age, most people have done it. Not me, but, you know, most people.”

Wonwoo lets out a chuckle, then it dies down. “So… do you want to be there for my next stream? You know, sitting behind the camera, watching?”

You swear it’s as if there’s a flood in your panties, and your heart leaps like a professional olympic high jumper.

“Yes,” you squeak.

Wonwoo smiles broadly. “This will be fun.”

Eight:

You’re sitting on Wonwoo’s bed, body tense with anticipation.

His camera is set up, and it’s the only thing between the two of you as he lounges in his gaming chair.

The neon blue purge mask is obscuring his features, but you can feel his eyes on you. He’s hit the record button, and you’re committed to being a silent watcher as Wonwoo visibly slips into his No Face alter ego.

There’s something about the way his shoulders drop, the way he tilts his head back, exposing his pretty throat as he gets comfortable in the chair.

Wonwoo’s hand drops down to the front of his pants, and he palms himself gently, releasing a sigh.

“Feels good,” he muses, voice deeper than it usually is in every day life. “Wish it was your hands touching me though.”

Your body tingles with the realization he’s talking to you. Sure, he dirty talks for his shows all the time, but today, it’s different.

Today, No Face is literally talking directly to you, but all his words will be eaten up by his subscribers too. It’s your very own personal cam show, and no one else ever has to know.

“Are you going to get started too, baby?” Wonwoo asks. “I can’t be the only one getting off, and we both know you’re here watching this because you want something in return. So don’t be shy.”

You swallow thickly, heart racing in your chest.

“How about this, I strip tease for you, and in return, you get yourself ready for me?” he suggests.

It’s almost hard to breathe now, but you nod, staring directly at Wonwoo. You know his eyes are on you. At this point, it’s clear he’s ignoring the camera completely, but with his face obscured by the mask, his subscribers will be none the wiser to the true event taking place.

Wonwoo starts by gently lifting up his shirt, exposing hard abs and a lean muscled body that has your core already throbbing with need.

Compression shirts are part of his brand, so Wonwoo stops the teasing there, hands instead dropping to the belt of his black jeans. He’s slow with undoing it, slow with the way his long fingers toy with his button and zipper.

He releases a sigh as he lifts his hips, pushing his pants down to his knees. His thighs bulge where they press against the black leather of his gaming chair, but the bulge in his underwear is even bigger, and it makes you unconsciously lick your lips as your eyes stay glued to every motion.

“Come on, baby, be good for me,” Wonwoo tells you, and it snaps you out of your trance.

You realize you need to be doing something too- that’s the whole intrigue of this. Wonwoo gets off on camera, and you get off behind it. Mutual masturbation, in the sexiest possible form.

Truly no hands on, just self gratification while watching the other pleasure themself.

You remove your shirt, and Wonwoo lets out a groan. “That’s it.”

Deciding to keep your bra on for now, your hands slip to your own pants, and you carefully take them off.

“Want to see you,” Wonwoo says, palming himself through his underwear.

Your hands are shaking as you remove your panties, body alight with energy. It’s not shyness per se- more like shock that you’re even in this situation.

You want it, so fucking bad, but it’s a truly difficult thing to wrap your head around. This situation is unlike anything you could have imagined in your wildest dreams, and you’ve never been more turned on in your entire life.

You’re now bare on your lower half, and you relax against the bed, lifting your legs so your feet are on the mattress, your pussy spread for Wonwoo.

He releases another deep groan, shifting his own underwear down.

His beautiful cock slaps up against his stomach, and he immediately wraps a hand around it.

There’s a bottle of lube next to him, and you watch him spurt some onto his palm, when he brings it to his cock again, you begin to touch your pussy.

You start with your clit, drawing slow cirlces while Wonwoo strokes himself, matching your pace.

“Mmm, that’s good,” Wonwoo muses, relaxing back against his gaming chair. His head lolls back, but you know his eyes are still entirely focused on you. “I know you’re feeling good too, aren’t you, baby?”

Since he’s on camera, you know you can’t make a sound, but you nod aggressively, swallowing the lump in your throat as you apply more pressure to your clit.

“That’s it, rub harder,” Wonwoo encourages you. “Bet you’re all nice and wet for me already, huh?”

It’s hard to hold in the moan that threatens to escape you, but you nod again, biting your lip to force yourself not to make a sound.

“I can just imagine your mouth on my cock, sucking me so good,” Wonwoo says. “How I’d grab your hair and help you find a rhythm. Bet you’d kind of love choking on it, love the way tears roll down your cheeks as I use you.”

Your toes curl at his words, and you rub your clit even harder, the knots in your stomach tightening deliciously.

“When you got me to the edge, I’d switch things up. I’d lay you down on the bed, eating you out until you cum on my tongue, until your thighs are shaking around my head. I’d hold you down too, because I know you’d like that. Something tells me you want to be dominated, and I could show you what that’s like.”

It’s as if he’s read your mind, as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

“Once you’re good and ready, I’d finally give you my cock,” Wonwoo groans, increasing the pace of his strokes along his length. “Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Love to have me spreading open your insides and fucking you stupid.”

Your breathing is shaky as you rub your clit, your heart racing in your chest. Your eyes close a little as you focus on the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that’s beginning to blossom inside of you.

“I think you should slip a finger in, baby, imagine it’s mine.”

Your eyes snap open again as you stare at him.

“Come on, do as I say.”

With a shaky hand, you bring your fingers to your core, slipping one into your obscenely wet hole.

“Hmm, that’s it,” Wonwoo groans. “Bet you wish it was bigger though, huh?”

You nod, biting your lip even harder in an effort to control yourself.

“Add another finger then. They’re still not as big as mine, but you can dream, right?”

God, you were not mentally prepared for this.

To be the sole focus of No Face is the most sinfully wonderful thing you could ever experience, and the way your body reacts to his commands- following through without your mind even registering it now-

Wonwoo has you in a daze, and you kind of love it.

“Fuck that pussy with those tiny fingers, baby,” Wonwoo encourages you. “I wanna hear it.”

You’re so wet you’re almost afraid his camera will be able to pick up the sound of your squelching pussy, but fuck it- he’s given you a command so you’ll follow through.

“That’s it, feels good, huh?”

You can see he’s stroking his cock harder, and it makes your mouth begin to salivate as you watch.

“Do you think you’re close, baby?” Wonwoo asks.

You nod.

“I’m close too, something about this has me hornier than usual. Thinking about tasting you, about fucking you with my fingers then railing you with my cock- you’re doing something to me, baby, and I know I’m doing something to you too.”

You nod again, more enthusiastically this time.

“Rub your clit again, want to watch you cum for me.”

You do as he says, and you bite hard on your lip again, throwing your head back, eyes closing as you focus on the feeling.

Wonwoo begins to moan as he watches you, and you’ve seen enough videos of his to know that this is a sign he’s near the edge too.

You can hear the wet slapping of his lubed hand now, and you know he’s beating himself off hard and fast- you bet he wishes it was your pussy on his cock right now, and it makes your toes curl again as you get closer and closer to your own high.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Wonwoo moans. “Come on, you can cum for me.”

You nod, muscles tightening to an impossible limit-

“That’s it, that’s it-”

Wonwoo’s encouragement throws you over the edge and you fall backward onto his bed, grabbing a pillow to put over your face, muffling your moans as your orgasm washes through you.

Your whole body is throbbing with sexual energy, thighs already shaking as you continue to rub yourself through it- having not received a command that you could stop.

You pray to God that the pillow is enough to muffle your sounds, because the whimpers escaping you are no longer something you can keep in- especially when Wonwoo releases a grunt of his own, a sign that he’s cum too.

A shiver of tingles errupts through you at the notion that he’s tipped over the edge, that the two of you have cum together in a situation like this.

Your mind is practically blank except for this moment, and as your orgasm dies down, you can’t ignore the racing of your heart in your chest.

“That’s a good girl,” Wonwoo groans, voice drawing you back to reality.

You move the pillow away, pulling your hand from your core as you sit up again, blinking at Wonwoo.

He’s cum all over his chest, and it’s a big load too- fuck, part of you wants to just lick it up.

“You were a good girl for me tonight,” Wonwoo says. “Such a good girl.”

He’s gently toying with his cock still, but finally he stops, and after a deep sigh, he turns off the camera.

The two of you sit there in silence for a moment, and once Wonwoo has the cap back on his camera’s lens, he pulls off his mask.

His skin is flushed, and he looks absolutely beautiful. There’s nothing like a post orgasmic glow to bring light to someone’s eyes.

“You good?” he asks, voice returning to its normal tone.

“That was amazing,” you whisper.

“I can’t believe you’re seriously okay with all of this,” Wonwoo admits with a sigh, running a hand through his unruly curls before reaching for some tissue to begin wiping up his mess.

“I am.”

He chuckles. “I can tell you’re overwhelmed though.”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, anticipation bubbling through you.

“I think it’s best if we call it a night.” Wonwoo says, and something sinks within your chest at his words. “I want to fuck you, I do, but… I want to give you time to think about all of this.”

“I have thought about all of this,” you counter.

“You’ve thought about fucking No Face, but off camera, I’m just Wonwoo, and I don’t want you to be disappointed with… the reality of me. No Face is a persona, and I need to know you understand that.”

You consider his words, and nod. “I’ll spend some time thinking about all of this.”

“But we’re still on for studying in a couple of days, right?”

“Regardless of us, we have a project to finish,” you nod.

Wonwoo smiles. “Thanks for coming today, it made a difference.”

Nine:

The two of you are studying in Wonwoo’s room, and as hours pass by, it’s getting harder and harder for you to focus.

There’s a tension in the space that you could cut with a knife, and your panties have been wet since you arrived.

In the past couple of days, you’ve given the whole situation a lot of thought… and you may have rewatched the camshow you did with him about a hundred times too.

“Wonwoo?” you ask, putting your laptop to the side.

“Hmm?”

“I wanted to talk to you about us.”

He gives you space to continue and you take a breath.

“I know that the whole No Face thing is a persona, and while he’s not you, he’s still part of you. Despite that, I like who you are too. You’re calm, and smart, and level-headed- and respectful too. Most men wouldn’t have done what we did and let me go home to process the situation. You could tell I was overwhelmed and you didn’t take advantage of me, which shows you’re respectful too. I think… you and I are kindred souls, and I’d like the opportunity to get to know you better, the real you, not No Face.”

Wonwoo nods, and you can tell he’s thinking about what you’ve just said. “I want to know you better too. I never thought I’d find a cute, shy girl who would be okay with the whole OnlyFans thing. You’re quiet, but you’re kinky, like me, and I really like that.”

Your skin heats at his words, and a smile works its way onto your lips.

“Doing this project has been great,” Wonwoo continues. “We work well together, and yeah… I like you a lot. I want to give it a try too.”

“Good.” You take a breath, sitting up to move closer to him. “So… I think we’ve done enough studying, don’t you?”

Wonwoo chuckles. “Feeling needy, huh?”

“You’ve got a half chub already, so don’t talk to me about feeling needy,” you tease with a grin.

“Talking back, are you?”

“You said it yourself, you’re not No Face, you’re Wonwoo. No Face is a dominant, but Wonwoo… I’m getting vibes from you that you’re something else.”

He cocks his head to the side, looking at you with a smile. “I guess you know the real me better than I realized.”

“You talk a big game about being a dominant on cam, but… my guess is you’re softer in person, softer like this.” You reach out to stroke his face, and Wonwoo leans into your palm.

“Are you okay with soft?”

“I’m okay with a mixture,” you tell him. “Whatever feels right in the moment.”

“Part of me wants to fuck the shit out of you,” Wonwoo notes. “But… as a first time, another part of me wants to just be nice.”

“Then be nice, you can be rough later, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“You better.”

You move his laptop out of the way, swinging your leg over his hips so you can mount him where he’s seated on the bed.

His hands find your waist, and he looks up at you. God, he truly is so beautiful.

You’ve kissed him before in the library, but that had been all fire, all passion, all pent up tension- as you lean down to press your lips to his now, you get the sense that everything about this interaction will be softer.

He’s not playing off as his alter ego, he knows you accept the real him, that you want to experience Wonwoo tonight, not No Face.

As amazing as No Face was, you don’t want him to think that’s all you’re here for.

He kisses you gently, one hand moving up to cup your cheek. His tongue is tentative as it runs along your bottom lip, asking for entry instead of demanding it.

You tilt your head a little to make things easier as the kiss deepens, his fingers digging into your hip.

You begin to grind down against him, enjoying the pressure on your clit. He’s already hard, and you know he wants this as badly as you do, which lights a fire in the pit of your stomach.

With one movement, Wonwoo has you both rolling, and you end up with your back pressed to the bed, Wonwoo on top of you.

Now it’s his turn to grind down against you, and you kiss him harder, whimpering against his lips.

One of his hands snakes up to your breast, and he squeezes you through your shirt, groaning at the way you fit in his palm.

“Can I take care of you?” he asks.

“You can do anything you want,” you assure him, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

Wonwoo’s lips move to your throat, and then the swell of your cleavage. You throw your head back, closing your eyes and enjoying the sensation.

He’s gentle when he removes your shirt, followed quickly by your bra, and then his mouth is on your chest again. His lips are soft as they suck on your nipple, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling in his curls as you enjoy the worship he’s providing you. Wonwoo takes his time with your breasts, and you can feel your pussy throbbing- you wonder if this is what blue balls feels like for men- this insatiable need to have attention on your core instead of the erogenous zone he’s currently enjoying.

Soon, Wonwoo’s mouth is moving down your body, and he slips onto the floor next to the bed. He takes off your pants and panties, moving slowly as if to give you time to change your mind.

But you’re not going to change your mind.

You want this more than you’ve ever wanted everything, and as he drags you to the edge of the bed, intent on eating your pussy like he’d talked about on cam, you give yourself over to him fully.

His hands massage your legs, and he peppers kisses up your calf, tickling your knee as he moves to your thighs.

Your legs adjust over his shoulders, and his hands grab at your hips as he leans in for his first lick of your pussy.

The contact of his tongue on your clit has you releasing a squeal of delight, your entire boy tingling with pleasure.

You can feel Wonwoo’s eyes on you as he begins to eat you out, his tongue pushing into your wet pussy before flicking back up to your sensitive bud again.

“Feels good!” you tell him, muscles already beginning to tighten with pleasure.

His fingers get a better grip on you, one hand moving to your thigh to hold you in place as he devours you.

He sucks your clit into his mouth and it’s a sensation that has your entire body reacting, the cord in your stomach tightening even more-

No one has eaten you out in practically forever, and to be having a man worship you like this- it’s getting you closer to the edge, faster than anyone else before.

“Shit,” you whimper, tangling your fingers in his hair again, back arching as the pleasure begins to build.

Wonwoo doesn’t relent, he eats you out like a starved man, his eagerness only growing with each second-

Your whimpers are getting louder, the sensation building more and more-

“I’m gonna cum!” you announce, eyes clenching shut as you teeter on the edge-

Suddenly two fingers are slipping into your pussy, crooking up so his digits can touch your sweet spot, at the same time, he sucks roughly on your clit and that’s all it takes to make you cum.

You gasp, your orgasm exploding inside of you unlike any other.

It’s all consuming in the best possible way, your body throbbing with unknown pleasure.

Wonwoo continues to finger fuck you, working you through it as wave after wave of ecstasy consumes you.

Your clit is almost too sensitive now, your thighs shaking, muscles beginning to hurt from the power of your high.

“Fuck, Wonwoo-” you whimper, pushing at his head.

He pulls away from your clit, his fingers slowing inside of you, and you can feel his eyes.

“You good?” he asks.

“Fuck, that was so good-” you groan, another shiver erupting through you when he strokes your inner walls again. “Need more.”

“Need what?”

“Your cock,” you tell him. “Need it so bad.”

“I’ll grab a condom,” Wonwoo muses, pulling his fingers out of your pussy only to plop them into his mouth.

As he stands, you freeze. “Wait! I’m on birth control!”

He stops, looking down at you. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure I’m on birth control, yes.”

“No, I mean, are you sure about unprotected sex?”

“Well… I’m clean,” you point out. “I haven’t had sex in forever-”

“Me neither,” he admits. “Other than, you know, sex with my own hand.”

You stare at him for a moment, and from the way he cracks a smile, you know he’s making a joke. So you begin to laugh too.

“How have we both not gotten laid in a while?” you ask.

He shrugs. “Guess we’re both pretty shy.”

“And school is busy,” you point out.

“School, gaming and OnlyFans is definitely a lot,” he agrees, pulling off his shirt then kicking down his pants. “Move up to the pillows for me, want you to be comfortable.”

You do as he says, watching eagerly as he gets fully naked for you.

God, his cock is even prettier up close, and you bite your tongue as he gets onto the bed with you. Your legs wrap around his hips instinctively, and you pull him in for a passionate kiss.

He begins to grind down against you, stimulating your oversensitive clit in a way that has you squealing with delight.

“I like your sounds,” Wonwoo muses, lips moving to your throat and ear, where he gently bites your lobe. “Was a shame I didn’t get to hear them during the cam show.”

“I tried to be good and quiet for you.”

“You were very good for me,” Wonwoo groans, voice dropping into the No Face cadence, which has your stomach flip flopping, pussy getting even wetter.

Wonwoo reaches between your bodies, adjusting the tip of his cock to your pussy. “You said you haven’t been fucked in a while,” he muses, “so if this hurts, or you need me to go slow, or stop-”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him, cupping his face. “Just fuck me, please.”

Wonwoo kisses you then, slowly pushing his rock hard cock into you as you whimper and claw at his shoulders.

He fills you so well- your inner walls finally receiving attention from a real sized cock after way too long.

Your fingers - hell, even his fingers - don’t do his full length justice, and it feels like heaven once he’s fully bottomed out.

You both release a low groan, your toes curling with pleasure.

“I’m good,” you tell him, pressing kisses to his throat as your fingers explore his broad shoulders. “Feels good.”

“You feel good,” he counters, beginning to move.

The drag of his cock along your core has you groaning, eyes closing as pleasure consumes you.

“Shit,” you whimper, holding him tighter.

“Shit,” Wonwoo echos again, picking up his pace.

You lay there, enjoying everything he’s giving you. As himself, Wonwoo’s not much of a talker, but you’re okay with that. The two of you simply gasp and moan as conversation, and you enjoy the feral aspect of sex, the part where you’re both overcome by the feeling of each other, so overcome that words aren’t even necessary.

Wonwoo presses his lips to yours again, kissing you fiercely as he fucks you harder and harder, until his bed is rocking and you’re scared people outside his door will be able to hear you moaning.

But part of you doesn’t even care, you don’t want to hold yourself back with Wonwoo anymore, not like you did when he was on cam. No, you want him to hear every whimper, every groan, every squeal of pleasure as he fucks you better than anyone else ever has.

There’s a connection here, a spark, and it lights a fire inside you as Wonwoo fucks you for the very first time.

It’s passionate as you remain lip locked, your hands grabbing at his strong shoulders.

You don’t even care that it’s clear this will be a one position fuck session. Missionary has always been one of the more boring ways to fuck, but with Wonwoo- it’s downright magical. There’s nothing like it, being pressed chest to chest- as close as you can be as you do this.

Wonwoo’s groans are magic too, and they have your pussy throbbing depserately around him-

Then he slips his hand between your bodies, rubbing your clit-

Your pussy clamps down on him, a gasp escaping you as you break the kiss to look up at him.

“Want you to cum with me,” Wonwoo groans. “Please.”

You can’t respond, all you can do is focus on the building sensation- and in no time at all, you’re tipping over the edge with a loud moan.

Wonwoo returns your sound with a grunt, burying his face against your throat as he cums with you.

Your pussy throbs around him, milking Wonwoo of all he’s worth as he moans in your ear, fucking you through it all.

His hair is tickling your cheek, but you can’t even care as the orgasm swells through you like the waves of a warm summer ocean.

Your chests are still pressed together, and you can feel the beating of his heart. It’s almost dizzying, feeling this connected to another person, and it leaves your mind blank as you enjoy it.

Your arms are wrapped around him, cuddling Wonwoo close as his motions come to a stop, and then you just pant together, doing your best to catch your breaths.

You stroke his hair, releasing a deep sigh.

Wonwoo presses one last kiss to your throat before pulling away. “How do you feel?” he asks.

“Perfect.”

Wonwoo grins. “Me too.”

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was so fun to write, I can't wait to explore this au more in other chapters!

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🔮 preview. You know there will be no more rough housing, no more use of the paddle, because No Face might be somewhat of a sadist, but Wonwoo is a pussy whipped softie, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, foreplay, dirty talk, blow job, pussy eating, hand job, commanding/dominant alter ago Wonwoo, use of paddle, impact play, pain kink, fingering, slight sadism Wonwoo, multiple reader orgasms, mentions of sex toys, creampie, etc… I petnames. (hers) baby.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 3k I teaser wc. 110

🌙 starring. Jeon Wonwoo x afab!Reader

bonus

You love Wonwoo. You love him for all that he is, No Face and all, and you also love that despite his online alter ego, he’s very soft and giving in bed. However… sometimes, you just want to be man handled and dirty talked until your head spins, and your lovely boyfriend is more than willing to provide that for you on special occasions.

Today is your birthday, and after you’re done classes, you go back to your apartment to shower and get ready.

You’ve bought a very sexy outfit. Garter connected fishnets, a black push-up bra, a corset, sexy high heels, and a thong to complete the whole look.

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hoshigray · 9 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭 𝐌𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲 | gojō satoru

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: bully! Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! you + Gojo are college juniors - first kiss - fingering (f! receiving) - sqüiřtıng - virginity loss - corruption kink - missionary + deep impact positions - clitoral play - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy, you sillies!) - premature ejaculation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, princess) - itty bitty possessiveness - mention of spit/drool and tears.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.6k

“Yo.”

“Yes, Satoru?”

“You never had your first kiss, huh?”

Gojo Satoru takes pleasure in being your bully — nothing in his third year of college gives him much joy than being your one source of torment. Sure, he’s got everything: being the campus’ grounds #1 heartthrob, a star player on the men’s basketball team, and an excellent scholar in all his courses despite being a dickhead. But, even if he possesses the things that put him at the top of the class body, his other fountain of entertainment comes from something - or someone - that playing ball or dormitory parties can’t produce the same level of internal enjoyment.

You and he were alone in his apartment, umbrellaed under the instruction of working on an upcoming project this month. Of course, boredom is evident in the tall one’s heavy sighs as he looks through multiple articles on his laptop. Cerulean orbs wander away from the device’s screen and land on the other side of the couch; another figure glued to the armrest is concentrated on typing their keyboard to notice the prying survey.

Gojo’s ennui begins to flicker out the moment he sees you, wanting nothing to do with this damn assignment and just to mess with his favorite pushover. This is precisely why he prompts himself to ask you a question, and judging by how quickly your fingers stop typing, now his attention is hooked onto a matter way more fascinating.

He spots your flattened lips. “…Wh–Where did that come from?”

“Just curious, a random thought that came to my head.”

“Why was that the thought that—“

“Hey, aren’t ya gonna answer the question?”

You stammer. “What makes you think I never had my first kiss?!”

He lifts a brow; his round shades shine when he smirks. “So you did have a first kiss?” Your lips open with no voice, and both silver eyebrows rise from the silent answer you’re giving, only for you to close your mouth and avert your gaze elsewhere. Gotcha, he stifles a chuckle. “Thought so, you terrible liar. Embarrassed I called you out? Haha, hilarious.”

Your eyes may be on the words of your document on your laptop, but the heat on your cheeks and the uncomfortable knot in your gut kept brewing. You chew on your lips to focus on something other than the guy getting a kick out of your lack of experience — the guy you don’t hear close and place his computer on the coffee table.

“Hey,” the closeness of his voice takes you aback, and you’re surprised to see him sit closer enough to bring a hand to close your laptop. “Wanna kiss me?”

Mortified eyelids shoot wide. “Wanna—Wh-What!?!” What the fuck is going on?!? “Why would you ask me—“

A nonchalant shrug adds more weight to your shock. “Why not? It’s just you and me, alone in my apartment at 8 o’clock. Sounds like a perfect opportunity, doncha think?”

“Yeah, to do work!” Your emphasis fails as Gojo takes your device to add to the table surface. “I-I didn’t come here for you to question me and ask to—“

“You got someone else you’re waiting for?” He uses a hand to cage you from escaping, a knee between your legs. He knows he has the upper hand, observing behind shielded sunglasses as he awaits your response.

“I–W-Well,” God, what did I get myself into? “Not necessarily…”

“So, do you not trust me with your first kiss?”

“That’s…That’s not the point—“

“You’re deflecting!”

“Satoru,” the way you say his name — low and soft, a pleading whisper — makes something switch for Gojo, looking at your bashful expression with hesitant hands, barely pushing his chest. “We shouldn’t…Let’s get back to the assignment?”

That wasn’t working on him; he’d never want to stop teasing you, especially now when you look too cute. “Let me kiss you one time, ‘kay? Then, we’ll go straight back to work.” He can see the cogs work in your brain, deciphering whether he is genuine. Was he? He couldn’t tell; all he was thinking about was how your lips felt. “I promise, princess.”

You didn’t mean it to happen, but you scan from his shades to his lips; now, it’s all you can see. The bob of his Adam’s apple, when he gulps, has your breath hitch, and after a few silent seconds with no movement, he begins to descend his face lower, and your lids swiftly close. So does his as he gently places his pillowy lips onto your plump ones, and a hushed squeak doesn’t go neglected.

Cherry — that’s the flavor that Gojo can taste. It has to be from the lip gloss you plastered on your lips that made them inviting to gawk at, pretty lips that the tall other couldn’t stop peering occasionally. He licks the bottom, taking in more of the taste with a soft groan. You yelp, gaping your lips further to give the man above an idea, and chew on your bottom lip. More whimpers slide past your control, hands gripping his sweatshirt as he peppers you with soft kisses, latching onto yours for longer seconds from one after the other — so much for one kiss.

You’re the one to break it off, hesitantly backing away from him to breathe. Hot skin returns to the cold air, and intimate huffs fuel into the space. You open your eyes slowly, half-lidded with knitted brows and scorching ears. You examine Gojo’s neutral expression; orbs that were once filled with reluctance are now replaced with a...wonder.

An innocent wonder that nearly has Gojo shut down from seeing as your hands steadily ring around his neck. There it is again, another switch flipped. This time, a spark ignites his brain, curiosity coursed to a more indecent field after what it feels like taking your first kiss. Because the way you’re looking under him — entirely submitted to him and his touch — wasn’t something he expected to rock his core. And all he can think about now…

…Is what taking all of your firsts would be like.

“—Taaahhh, haah…! Satoru, w-wait a min—“

“Hey, baby, tell me, what’s it like having my fingers inside you?”

Gojo’s little experiment delved into different extremes; your first kiss was the starting point of the many thoughts that perturbed his thinking. He wanted to know more about your potential firsts. For example, such as right now, how you’d be if he were the first to touch your privates.

The atmosphere around the living room became hotter; the tepid silence switched with the erotic sounds and squeals that exited your system. Your legs spread apart, Gojo in between your thighs as his big, calloused hand swims under your panties to shove away and meet the bareness of your cunt. You were so wet, your liquids effortlessly coating his fingertips with barely any push. An entire mess between your inner thighs and labia. And that made Gojo’s mind go wild.

“Holy shit,” he chuckles in a heavy sigh. “So fucking wet and tight…Heh, you’re all like this because of a kiss, huh? So adorably pathetic.”

Refutation is impossible as he curls his forefinger inside, scraping your upper wall in a manner you never envisaged. “Sator—Mmmph…!” He keeps pushing the digit to the knuckle, touching crevices of your inner channel you could never reach. “O-Ohhh, Jesus…”

“Mmmm, fuck, you're twitching like crazy,” and Gojo was loving every second of it. The taller junior then decides to test something and creeps his middle finger near your opening, smearing itself with your come as lube.

You sense him push the finger in, nerves heightened. “W-Wait, Satoru, I can’t—“

“Oh, yes, you can.” He interrupts you with a cheeky sneer. “You’re practically asking for it with you twitching so much. Watch.” Gojo pushes the middle digit leisurely; your beseeching babbles become increasingly incoherent when he adds the whole thing with the other finger. Now, both of them have you shrilling from their intrepid fashion, grazing on your vaginal walls with every pull and shove until his knuckles smooch your labia.

Good God, the place is so hot, your face is hot, your body’s hot, your insides feel hot — everything is just too hot for you to handle! And your brain cannot hold itself together as the seconds go. You throw your head back, your eyes sewn shut, “OhGod, ahhck! Wait, stooop! Go slow, go slo—Ohhh!” Gojo does the exact opposite; the pace of his fingers surges to a tempo you find difficult to ride through. Your entire frame locks together, preparing for the inevitable to slip past your hold, and tremors course around you as your orgasm hits you like a train.

Simultaneously as Gojo continues to rut your soapy cunt, a clear liquid disperses out of your urethra and sprays outward. Sprinkling onto the skin of your thighs and drenching your underwear. Although you’re not the only one who gets caught, Gojo at the front gets a genuine display of you showering his forearm with your essence, damping his sweatshirt in the process, and even a bit on his sunglasses.

It happens the third time: something snaps inside Gojo once he sees your oddly beautiful teary face. It’s at that moment that something in his core breaks and permeates his entire body with a force that’s been itching to get out when he kissed you earlier. He swallows thickly because the next thing he does after this will eat him alive, a queerly anticipated feeling for the white-haired man.

Of course, Gojo is astonished at what transpired, the shock in his eyes concealed by the shades. “Did you…just squirt on me?” His ears pick up the sound of you sobbing, your hands covering your face as you whine.

Massive tears roll down your cheeks, “I—hic—I told you to wait…!”

It’s a no-brainer that Gojo pulls you off the couch and leads you to throw on top of his bed, stripping himself off his pants and briefs to free his raging erection and crawling up on top of you after chucking his shades off. A gasp leaves puffy lips when his pink glans meet the folds of your vagina, burrowing between your labia to coat with your slick.

“Satoru, wait,” you voice. “D-Don’t you have a condom?”

“Sorry, ran out of them.” Lies. Gojo knows he has rubbers tucked in his nightstand. However, the intention to use them is nowhere to be found. Because tonight – knowing completely and damn well you’re still a virgin – he had to fuck you raw. The drive to do so sent shivers up his spine. “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll promise to pull out.”

Yet again, another deception.

Gojo pushes the tip in as he counts your breaths, watching every wince and contortion of your expression as the cockhead ventures and seeks shelter inside your slit. Your body is squirming through every exhale, and Gojo’s coaxes to relax your rigidness are somewhat helpful as you intake air. Before you know it, your mouth goes to a permanent ‘o’ shape once the tip is inserted, the act of breathing stops, and your body recoils and tenses as he slowly forces the foreign limb to carve your tightness inch by inch.

Oh, fucking shit…!! Oh yeah, Gojo thanks himself for not putting on a rubber. The firm grasp of your walls around his length nearly has him lose balance, sinking into your warm wetness clenching onto him so deliciously. He bites his lip to composure, a futile attempt as he throws in a few slow thrusts, and the snug of you has him in a chokehold. Then, when he hits your cervix, you instinctively grip onto him tighter and wrap your legs around him, and Gojo almost chokes.

“F-Fuuck, wait, wait..!” He curses, submitting to a release way too early; his hips tremble as his cock ejaculates into your vagina. Shocks rattle his brain, rolling his eyes to the ceiling at the sensation of pooling himself into you. “Shit, oh shiiiit…this fucking pussy is driving me crazy.”

It really does because Gojo, still keen from his climax, dials the cadence, rutting into you with purpose. The sudden movements have your shrieks bouncing across the bedroom walls, and hits to your womb are frequent and cause more tears to strike down without your comprehension. “Nnnmm! OhhhmyGod…! Mmoohh!!”

“Heh, look at you cryin’,” Gojo teases you from above, licking a tear before kissing your cheek and ear. “Guess that’s expected for your first time, huh…Hnnnm, God, you’re clenching my dick so much.”

“Th-That’s because you’re—“The curve of his shaft has the tip graze your walls in an angle that makes your back arch. “Ahhoooo!! I’m fuull; you’re making me fulll…!!”

“Awww, am I making you full, crybaby?” He mocks you in your ear, the snicker sounding too salacious to the drum. “You full with my dick that it got you whining and crying for me?”

I can’t do this! Your brain dissolves into mush, and your face is too hot to construct adequate consciousness. “I can feel it, I can feel…”

“What is it? I can’t hear you through all the sobbing,” Gojo unscrews your legs to maneuver one for him to straddle and the other to lie on his shoulder. The new position gave him a directed way to piston his pelvis into your aching cunt, your squeals turning into screams as pokes to your womb come with the feverish pacing. He’s hitting so deep you can’t catch up! “What, you think you’re about to cum?”

You nod hurriedly. “Yes, yesss!!”

“Oh, that’s what you want now?” The snow-headed man chortles before sneaking a hand to your vulva, where his fore and middle finger swipe on your clit. “Tell me, is that what my pathetic angel wants?” You nod again, so he pinches your bud. “Tell me properly~.”

“—Ahhnnn, ohh, Sa—‘Toruuu!!” You pan to him. “Pleaseee, please make me cum, I wanna cum…!!”

God, this was a picture worth savoring. The image of you being all desperate for release, wanting nothing but to succumb to your wanton desire. You looked so ruined, like a completely different person compared to the meek exterior Gojo used to. And it’s all because of him – his words, his touches, his lips, and his dick – that you’re like this. A fact that only propels him to hammer his hips into you harsher.

“Good girl,” he bends down to close his face to yours. Surveying you make such erotic faces as he keeps playing with your clit is food for his soul. “Enjoy yourself, princess,” and he steals your lips once more for another kiss.

Your orgasm comes to you quicker than ever, thanks to the work of Gojo’s hips, the hits of your cervix, the pinches on your clitoris, and the sloppy makeout session. Your body freezes and lets the aftershocks jolt you to a rocky clarity, your head in a dense fog, and your vision just about blurry. Your legs quiver with heaving breaths, and Gojo keeps thrusting as you soon fall out of your euphoria.

The cold air blankets both of you once tense muscles calm down and bring you two back to reality. Silence befriends the lack of words aside from the pants of breath, and Gojo sluggishly withdraws his cock out of your wet chasm, whistling at the sight of his load slowly protruding out of your essence.

“Hey,” your face forms into a helpless expression. “Bet you never tried anal before.”

Tonight was dedicated to conquering all of your firsts. And Gojo means that with every bone in his body!

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iinterstellaarr · 2 months ago

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fratboy!satoru having a crush on you is kinda like burning your hand on a hot stove.

it sucks.

satoru is cocky in all meanings of the word. he’s constantly on top of tables, playing beer pong, or dangling and swinging from the chandelier in the frat house that is still up by the grace of God.

yet somehow, despite walking into class 25 minutes late and complaining about his hangover for the rest of your hour long class, he still maintains nearly perfect grades.

every girl has a crush on him, or thinks he’s the scum of the earth. every guy wants to be him and he knows this. he carries himself with such confidence that it’s not hard to see why he’s so popular.

and then there’s you.

you applied to this prestigious college in hopes of getting your degree and getting the hell out of there the first chance you got. somehow, you got in and are now dedicated to spending your next 5 years stuck in this school

and stuck with satoru.

he comes from a family of immense wealth. you were pretty sure he didn’t even need to go to college or have a job, and yet here he was in all his douchebaggy glory. everytime he walked past girls would giggle and guys would grumble

but he was focused on you.

you never made a noise when he walked past, never even looked up from the dumb tiktok’s you were watching on your phone. even when he made a spectacle in class, you wouldn’t even spare him a giggle or an eye roll. to you, it was like he didn’t even exist.

your lack of presence had somehow caught his eye, and through the flood of people that he saw everyday, he was stuck on you.

“i literally don’t get it.” satoru grumbled into his pillow as his roommate, suguru, rolled his eyes for the trillionth time.

“why do you care so much? it’s not like the flood of girls nipping at your heels is gonna go dry anytime soon.” suguru massaged the temples on his head, desperately trying to relieve himself from the satoru induced migraine

“it’s different! i want an eyeroll, a scoff, something!” satoru flops over on his back and looks to his roommate

“you’re annoyed because she doesn’t acknowledge your existence?”

“exactly!”

“narcissist.” satoru groaned at his roommate and pouted into his pillow once again.

“your just salty your bumble date ghosted you.” satoru claimed, and quickly retracted as a pillow was throw at his head.

the next class you had early in the morning made you groan as you sat down and opened your bag to grab your computer.

“is this seat taken?” your head snaps up while you meet bright blue eyes, although they were covered by dark sunglasses.

you whip your head around to the plethora of empty seats, even the ones in the back held no one, which was a miracle in itself.

“uhm, no?” you scooped up some of your items to make room for the lengthy boy as he sat down next to you. he leaned his head on his hand as he eyed you up and down.

“i don’t believe we’ve met. i’m satoru gojo, although you can just call me satoru, gorgeous.” he had a cocky grin on his face, sure that he was being charming by extending the pleasure of calling him by his name to you and by the slightest compliment.

“yeah, okay.” you nodded slightly, praying to whatever God would listen that he’d just leave you alone. his smile faltered at your dismissive tone, although he was far from done playing with you.

“what are you majoring in?” his eyes were still fixed on you, as if some omnipotent creature was whispering all the ways to make you tick, and he was listening as if it were scripture.

you rolled your eyes and spared him a glance although lacked a response as you continued to furiously type the paper that was due for this class.

after that blatant dismissal, he tried everything.

a large, very expensive looking bouquet by your dorm? he found them in the dumpster the next morning. causing a ruckus in the quad? you walked past him as if he were trash on the sidewalk. a pyramid of redbulls inside your dorm (how’d he get in?) was found in a donation box for other students who were struggling. nothing he did could ever catch your eye.

although he didn’t know the flowers you got him made you violently sneeze, so they were a hazard to keep in your living space. he didn’t know that the day he tackled suguru in the quad with the prayer of a fleeting glance, you were to focused on the mid term that was worth half your grade. the redbulls he left in your dorm just happened to be your least favorite flavor, and it probably was t healthy to drink all of those yourself. it wasn’t that you were purposely ignoring him, you just genuinely didn’t notice his foolish antics were to get your attention.

it wasn’t until the end of the year that satoru finally snapped.

he found you in the library, surrounded by books and half drunken iced coffee. you looked different from the girls that usually followed him. not bad different, but raw. real.

you didn’t notice him until his shadow blocked the flow of light that illuminated your books.

you looked up, sighing slightly before pulling out and earbud

“if this is about the flowers, i’m allergic-“

“get up.” his tone was different from the cocky frat boy you knew. he was nervous. nervous in your presence, nervous in the line of your sight. he looked like and insecure school boy finally talking to his crush

“excuse me?” you watched as he scooped up the books and carefully shoved them into your bag, pulling your chair out while you were still sat in it.

“i wanna talk.” he pulled you by your wrist, still holding your backpack as he made a dash for the exit

“we can’t just talk here?” your feet were clumsy following the man in front of you, considering he was a good foot taller that you.

“it’s important, just…” he paused, the words fluttered on his tounge but he bit back before it all came rushing out. “please.”

that shut you up.

he rounded the corner and shoved open the door to a long forgotten stair well.

gojo crossed his arms, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, exposing the frustration flickering in those icey eyes. “what is your deal with me?”

you blinked.

“huh?”

“i’ve tried everything. everything,” he said, voice sharper than his usual smooth tone. “you ignore me like i’m background noise. like i don’t even exist.”

you stared, silent, waiting.

“i mean, do you hate me? did i do something? am I just some frat idiot to you?” he ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “you’re driving me insane and you don’t even care.”

“i do notice you, satoru.” his real name being slipped on your tounge caused his pacing to falter.

for the first time all year, you saw him. rough around the edges, and slightly insecure. he wasn’t satoru gojo, heir to a fortune many couldn’t comprehend and a total douchebag

he was just… satoru. a boy who didn’t know how to get the attention of someone like you without using elementary tactics.

“you don’t have to do anything dramatic to catch my eye. you don’t have to make small talk about stupid shit to get me to talk to you.”

“i see you, satoru. every over the top stunt, every weird little performance. i’ve seen it all. but the guy who leaves flowers im allergic too in front of my dorm to get attention?” you stood slowly, eyes locking with his. “that’s not who i’m interested in.”

he swallowed. “then who are you interested in?”

you leaned in just enough for your voice to hit him low and clear.

“the real you, whoever that is. it’s up to you to figure that out.”

and then you left him there, quiet for the first time in a long time.

the next time you saw satoru, he was just as nervous as last time. his eyes weren’t covered by his glasses and you swore you could see a glimmer of sweat drip down his forehead as he met you for the first class of the day.

“for you.” he held out a small iced coffee, the same one you had ordered for your impromptu study trip in the library.

he had memorized it.

in the small moment he saw to remember it, he had got it perfect.

“no flowers, no stupid tricks. just me.” you smiled as he handed it to you, the condensation on the cup making your hands cold and wet, but you didn’t mind.

“you remembered,” you said.

“ive been paying attention. even if you weren’t.”

you studied him. for once, he didn’t try to fill the silence. he just looked at you. nervous, hopeful, real.

and maybe he was still a little ridiculous. still loud, still dramatic in ways he couldn’t fully shake. but under all of that… there was something honest. something kind.

and maybe that was who satoru was all along.

“your still a frat idiot, satoru.”

“i’m your frat idiot.”

#oneshot #jjk #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #frat!satoru #fratboy!satoru

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pathologicalreid · 4 months ago

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xoxo | s.r.

in which your daughter goes to the BAU to hand out her extra Valentines

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: horrible tooth rotting fluff, chemist!reader and leah, the spencer reid dilf agenda, valentine's day, reader wears pink (it's FESTIVE) word count: 1.47k a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!!!!

You had just finished helping your daughter put her visitor badge over her head before she proudly approached the two agents manning the security desk.

She brandished two Valentine’s Day cards for them, grinning while they looked down at her in surprise. You watched them tentatively take the cardstock from your three-year-old while she teetered back and forth in her pink Mary Janes. They thanked her while you pulled your visitor badge on. “C’mon, Leah,” you said, holding your hand out for her to take, “Let’s go see Daddy.”

“Daddy!” She chirped, her pure, childhood joy causing people in the lobby to stare. Most people were already vaguely aware of who she was, and even if they weren’t, it’s difficult to be truly bothered by a kid wearing heart antennae. Adjusting her grip on her basket of Valentines, she led you to the elevator, practically dragging you through Quantico.

Her hand couldn’t quite reach the button in the elevator, accidentally hitting the number four while wavering on her tippy toes. “Here, lovey,” you said, reaching over her and pushing the number six for her.

Leah beamed up at you. “Thank you,” she whispered, lowering herself and standing next to you, tugging on your pink sweater in an attempt to get your attention—as if she had ever lost it. “You wanna Valentine?” Her voice was soft, as if you were exchanging state secrets in the elevator, sweetly leaning her head against your leg. She stumbled over the name of the holiday a bit, replacing the second ‘n’ with an ‘m.’

“I’ll get one after everyone else,” you reassured her, adjusting her headband and smiling at the way the hearts bobbled.

She nodded confidently, making faces at her reflection in the elevator doors as you continued your way up.

You held your breath as the doors opened, once again holding your hand out for her to take so you could enter the bullpen in an orderly fashion, but as soon as they were open, she had taken off, the door being held open for someone else, leaving a perfect gap for her to slip through. There was barely enough time for you to call, “Incoming,” before she ran directly into Luke.

Thanking Anderson for holding the door for you, you followed Leah into the bullpen at a much slower pace and locked eyes with your husband, sighing in relief at the fact that you’d made it with little stress.

Your daughter had already been rescued from a room full of tall people by Dave, who’d hoisted her onto someone’s desk, so they were nearly at eye level. “Happy Valentime’s, Dave,” she said excitedly, urgently rifling through her basket to find a treat that she deemed worthy of his receipt.

Rossi smiled at her, “Happy Valentine’s Day, kiddo. What have you got there?” You weren’t sure if he was faking interest for the sake of your toddler, but either way, you were grateful for the opportunity to sneak by them, approaching Spencer’s desk.

He powered off his computer monitor as you leaned on the edge of his desk. “Hey,” he greeted, leaning his head up so you could plant a quick kiss on his lips. “Did she have fun?”

You nodded, peeking over your shoulder to see Dave walking Leah around to hand out Valentines to the entire office. “We severely underestimated the number of parents who keep their kids home for Valentine’s Day,” you informed him. Leah’s daycare class had been nearly empty when you picked her up early.

“What does that mean for us?” He asked, placing his hand on your knee and giving it a squeeze.

Raising your eyebrows, you grinned impishly, “It means we’re bringing a lot of lollipops home with us.”

Spencer chuckled, eyes following Leah as she made her way to Emily’s office, jumping up the steps and giggling at the sound effects that Tara made when she landed. “How was your morning?” He asked nonchalantly, and since nothing Spencer ever did was nonchalant, you knew he was on a fishing expedition.

The corners of your mouth quirked up while he shuffled the papers on his desk, preparing to spend his lunch with you and Leah. “Oh, I dropped Leah off and then went to work. I only had one class to teach, Physical Chemistry, as you know. I had some time before I needed to be back at the daycare, so I decided to stop at home and found a large bouquet of red and pink roses on the kitchen counter. They didn’t belong there, so I tossed them in the trash before heading here.”

“You did not,” Spencer challenged, grinning up at you, pushing his tongue against his teeth like he did when he was holding in a laugh.

You laughed breathily, hiding your smile behind your hand until Spencer reached up and took your hand in his. “No,” you acquiesced, “But I have no idea where we’re going to put two dozen roses.”

He pretended to think about it for a moment. “How about the kitchen counter?”

Humming, you leaned down to kiss him again. “Works for me,” you murmured to him on your way back up. You turned your head to find your toddler, seeing that Penelope had made her way to the bullpen and was putting a red feather boa around Leah’s neck.

Listening in on their conversation, you frowned when you overheard Leah complaining that the boa wasn’t pink. “Leah,” Spencer called her name, having overheard the conversation himself. “What do you say to Aunt Penelope?”

The three-year-old spun around, stumbling a bit when she tried to come to a stop, before looking up at Garcia and jumping, “Thank you! Matches my butterfly ears!” She fumbled the word ‘butterfly’ a bit in all of her excitement—bubberfly.

Your husband looked at you, confused. “Butterfly ears?”

“Antennae, obviously,” you told him, shaking your head in faux disappointment that he didn’t understand what she was talking about.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Hey, princess, c’mere,” he said, waving over your daughter.

You waved to JJ and Emily as they joined the impromptu gathering, with everyone in the bullpen watching while Leah skipped over to her dad. “Hi, Daddy,” she greeted, lifting her arms for him to pick her up, which he did happily.

“Hi, baby. Happy Valentine’s Day,” he replied, sweeping a stray strand of hair from her forehead. He’d left before you got her dressed this morning, so he hadn’t been able to see her in her festive outfit, complete with a pink and red tutu.

Comfortably sitting in her father’s lap, she giggled when he tickled her side. “Happy Valentime’s Day, Daddy,” she managed to squeak out. Sighing when he finally gave her a break, she asked, “Lunch?”

You smiled softly, “Soon, lovey.” The three of you had planned to do lunch as a family, and Penelope had promised to take Leah for a sleepover so you could go out for dinner—you were nervous, and she was thrilled.

She kicked her feet contentedly, telling Spencer about the cards she had given away at the security desk in a hushed voice while you watched an exchange across the bullpen. Luke was leaning toward Tara, holding his lollipop in his hand, “What flavor did you get?”

Tara peered at him suspiciously. “Blue raspberry,” she replied.

“I’ll trade you a green apple,” he offered, extending his arm out for the swap.

Turning in her chair, Tara scoffed, setting her Valentine on her desk, “Not a chance.”

A small gasp to your side caught your attention. “No trades, Newbie!” Leah shouted from her perch.

Instead of turning on your daughter, Luke immediately pointed at Garcia, “You coached her!”

Penelope feigned offense, holding a hand to her chest and looking around the bullpen, “It is my duty as her godmother to warn her against certain people.”

“Meaning me?”

“If the shoe fits, Newbie,” Penelope replied, leaning against a vacant desk while she awaited Luke’s response.

He looked over at Leah now. “How did she even hear me?”

You shrugged. “She has freakishly good hearing; we’re thinking of having her tested.”

Spencer nudged you at your joke, smiling slightly, “She saw you.”

Sighing in defeat, Luke gave Leah an exaggerated pout, “I’m sorry I tried to make a trade. Can you forgive me?”

Leah nodded with a toothy smile. Luckily, she was three, and things were easy to get over. “Hey, do I get a Valentine?” Spencer asked, playing with the hearts on her headband.

Humming, she shifted on his lap. “Mommy put all of the pink ones in a baggie for us.”

You flashed a grin back at your husband, pulled a Watermelon lollipop out of your purse, and handed it to him. “I’m very good at what I do.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #written by margot #spencer reid dilf agenda

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mattslilies · 12 days ago

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Oral Essay - M.S.

"go on, sweetheart, tell me what your topic is." or... the one where you miss a presentation due to oversleeping, and your professor graciously allows you to make it up. warnings: oral (f receiving), praise, slight mention of beard burn/facial hair kink(?? is that a thing??), fingering (f receiving), tad bit of degradation, professor!matt, student!reader, this takes place in college! both parties are 18+! word count: 1.5k a/n: i do not own professor!matt! credits go to whoever created the au's! this photo just made me think he was giving prof!vibes so here is the fic i dreamed up

you couldn't believe you'd overslept. this was one of your most important presentations of the entire semester. you'd been preparing for it for weeks, making sure that it was completely perfect, but here you were, struggling with the outcome of a drastic mistake.

you cared about your schoolwork. you really did. getting your degree meant so much to you, and you were absolutely furious with yourself over missing this assignment. this was the first mistake you had made all semester, and that fact gave you a little bit of comfort as you made your way to your professor's office, knowing his office hours were currently running. you were desperately hoping that he would be lenient, understanding that sometimes these things happen.

you knocked on the open door as you stepped into his office, quietly announcing your arrival before you spoke. he turned around in his chair, looking over at you, and you swallowed the nerves in your throat and the butterflies in your stomach as his gaze settled on your face.

you couldn't deny that he was incredibly attractive. he was the youngest professor the school had, which was no help to your fantasizing delusions. plus, with his face being freshly shaved, only a small bit of stubble decorating his jaw, you couldn't say you hadn't had any indecent thoughts.

shaking those thoughts away, you started to speak, his attention entirely fixated on you, but he beat you to it, motioning for you to close the door.

"you weren't in class today. you missed your presentation."

you closed your mouth, nodding, your mind wondering how he'd even noticed with the one hundred plus people in your lecture hall. but that didn't matter right now.

"yes. i overslept. is there any way that i can make it up? this grade means a lot to me and i spent a long time working on this presentation."

he hummed, turning back to his computer screen and scrolling through what appeared to be a gradebook. you caught a glimpse of your name. he was scrolling through your gradebook.

"you haven't missed or turned in late a single assignment this semester, nor have you missed a class."

you shook your head, agreeing.

"no, i haven't. my education is very important to me."

he turned back to you.

"i can see that. you're always focused in my class. that is, except when you're making small comments about my attractiveness to your friends here and there."

your jaw fell, not expecting to have been called out, nor knowing he had any idea about that. you started to defend yourself, but he didn't let you continue.

"i- um. i don't-"

"it's a lecture hall, your voice does carry. it's okay."

you were sure that your face was the color of his tie, a blazing red as heat rose to it.

how does one cope with the fact of their professor calling them out for calling them hot?

luckily, he continued, saving you the embarrassment of continuing to speak for yourself.

"that being said, overall, you're an excellent student. so, i'm going to be nice. i'll give you two options."

you nodded, waiting to hear whether or not your grade would take a massive nosedive, or if there was hope for you yet. he closed his laptop, moving a few things off of his desk, the clean wood shining underneath it.

"you missed an oral essay, so i think this offer is quite fair. you can sit up here and tell me about your topic while i get my mouth on you, for full credit..."

your ears started ringing with shock because there was absolutely no way he was proposing such a filthy idea. your breath hitched as his words processed, but he raised a hand, preventing you from speaking.

"or, you can redo your presentation wednesday, normally, for 75% credit."

he leaned back in his chair, a normal look on his face as if he hadn't just offered to eat you out as casually as if he was asking you when your next class was. you, on the other hand, were spiraling.

"both of these options are much more generous than i would normally give, but there's no pressure to take one or the other."

you couldn't believe the position you were in. you'd always found him gorgeous, and you'd daydreamed about knowing what his nose would feel like against your clit, what his beard would feel like against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs... you were smart, but it was a no brainer.

you gasped as he removed your panties, pushing your legs apart and dropping to his knees in front of his desk, pulling you closer to him.

"go on, sweetheart, tell me what your topic is."

you opened your mouth to speak but all that escaped was a whine as his tongue traced around your clit, gentle pressure that felt otherworldly as his hands held onto your thighs.

biting back a moan, you started speaking, having memorized the information, but it was broken here and there with whimpers and cries. your hand tightened in his hair as his tongue dipped lower, slowly fucking you with it as his nose rubbed perfectly against your clit.

"oh my god- yes, shit, that's perfect-"

a gravelly moan escaped him as you tugged harshly on his hair, and the vibrations scattered through you, your legs shaking around his head. he ate you out like a man starved, tongue everywhere all at once, his stubble dragging along your skin, the beginning of a burning sensation only serving to push you even closer to the edge.

he pulled back to catch his breath, speaking to you only once before diving back in.

"keep going. you want that grade, don't you?"

you nodded, whimpering as two of his fingers slid inside you, curling at the perfect angle. you felt so full of him that you could cry, the real thing better than any fantasy you could've dreamed up. the facts of your topic falling from your lips became less and less as they were replaced with loud moans, him dragging you right to a climax.

his fingers worked at a steady pace, his mouth leaving you as he pulled off, wanting to watch the way you fell apart from his touch.

"it's a little pathetic, sweetheart, how easily you took this option. desperately wanting my mouth on you, you were soaking wet before i even touched you."

you gripped his wrist, nails digging in hard.

"p-please, i- you're so- fuck!"

he grinned, loving the effect he had on you.

"yeah? i'm so what, sweetheart?"

you sobbed, every nerve ending in your body on fire.

"s-so mean!"

he laughed, only moving his fingers quicker.

"am i? i don't see you complaining. your pussy is sucking my fingers in just as fast as i can thrust him. she's dripping down my wrist, baby. seems like you like it when i'm mean to you."

his head dipped down, lips wrapping around your clit, the suction being too much for you as you nearly screamed, your legs closing around his head, juices pouring all over his face.

he licked you through it, gentle praises falling from his lips as he slowed his movements, knowing the feeling of overstimulation could be brutal.

"did so good for me, sweetheart, you sound so pretty, always loved your voice..."

he trailed off as you caught your breath, swiping tissues from his desk, putting a little water on them to soften the fabric and clean you up, gently pulling your underwear back up your legs and helping you down off his desk.

his hair was tousled, clear that someone had ran their hands through it. your stomach fluttered at the sight, your brain still refusing to believe what had just happened.

he sat you down in his desk chair, passing you a water bottle to drink from while he leaned over his laptop, pressing a few buttons on his keypad before turning the screen to you.

100%.

it glowed in front of you, your mind still reeling as you processed.

"a 100%? you haven't given anyone a 100% all semester. on anything."

he smiled, shrugging.

"what can i say? your work was exceptional."

you smiled back, standing once you felt your legs wouldn't crumple underneath you.

"you noticed i was absent today."

"i did."

"do you notice when any of your students are absent? or just the ones that think you're hot?"

he gave you a cocky smirk before replying.

"that's most of them, sweetheart. but no. just you."

"good."

his hand circled around your waist as he gently led you to the door, opening it.

"better get going, or someone might get suspicious."

you nodded, about to leave before he spoke again.

"i'll see you in class on wednesday."

it wasn't a question. there was no room for argument. even if you didn't care about school, he knew you were obsessed with him, and would be back every day class was held.

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tddyhyck · 23 days ago

Text

our secret, right? [ s. jn ]

pairings ⇢ stepdad!johnny x fem!reader / side unnamed mom and johnny

warnings ⇢ 18+, stepcest, grooming, vaginal fingering, pet names (dad/daddy/baby/little one/kiddo/others), piss (swallowing, covering, wetting), gaslighting, oral m/f, public peeing, bra fitting??, naive reader, cum swallowing, feet stuff, reader has a bad mom, creep johnny, implied kidnapping, use of cunny and dad cock

word count ⇢ 17.7k

a/n ⇢ HIIIII

pt 2 ⇢ practice makes perfect

pt 3 ⇢ nobody baby but you and me

masterlist | ao3 | kofi

it didn’t take long for johnny to fully integrate himself into your family. you’d never seen your mom so happy and in love, she’d slowly started to trust you more even. you didn’t know that johnny had spent a while watching you seeing you out for church every sunday with your mom and on saturday for your errands.

most of your time was spent at home, your mom sheltering you from an early age. after your father died she became obsessed with keeping you inside, from homeschooling to limiting your time outside to once a week. when you turned 16 she upped it to twice a week and even let you spend a few hours home alone.

johnny noticed you at the park on a warm saturday, you and your mother were picnicking. he’d immediately been enthralled by your innocent face reeling him in like a fish to a worm. johnny was immediately drawn to you, his mind racing with filthy things he’d want to do to you.

he’d debated while he watched you from a park bench. would it be morally better to weasel his way into your life. probably better than just snatching you up and driving off with you. his mind wandered to a good way to sneak into your family life, did you need a handyman, maybe a father figure, or possibly a tutor.

that’s why he couldn’t help following you and your mother home. writing down her license plate and address to find more information about you two. he spent the next week researching and learning your habits or lack thereof. you stayed home everyday but saturday and sunday and your mother only left for exactly two hours each weekday.

it didn’t take long for him to find out her profession. that was how they met. johnny charming your mother until he married her a few short months later. you were so happy to have a father figure, especially one you liked so much. you warmed up to johnny easily he was kind and sweet and a lot more fun compared to your mother.

with him working from the home office your mother trusted him to watch you so she could spend more time out working with clients. you really didn’t need anyone to watch you do your university classes from your parental locked computer, but johnny didn’t mind. of course he didn't, he used that opportunity to spend more and more time with you.

johnny felt giddy the moment he pretended to enjoy kissing his wife goodbye hearing your exaggerated ewwws from the kitchen table. he’d shut the door, turn around and tease you. saying you were too grown up to care about adults kissing. you didn’t tell him you felt a little jealous wishing he’d kiss you the way he does your mom.

you’d even been practicing after their wedding and seeing them kiss. you stayed up past your bedtime lips mashing against your pillow as if it was your new dad. softly trying to mimic the way he had cupped your mother’s face before tilting her head and pressing his lips to hers. it made you frustrated.

it didn’t take long for you to feel comfortable with the new man of the house. quickly adapting to his routine so you could spend more time with him. you dreamed of finding a man just like your dad, soft but strong and very handsome. you’d never met a single boy who came close to your new dad’s qualities but you could dream.

soon enough johnny was no longer johnny he was dad or sometimes even daddy when you were really sleepy, and johnny didn’t mind. he cooed at you the first time you asked if you could call him dad. he sat you in his lap pouring praises at you for it. saying how much he loved you and this was another step towards your good father daughter relationship.

of course johnny didn’t mind it was all a part of his plan.

one morning during the beginning of the summer heat you came to the kitchen later than normal. your summer bedtime and alarm later by one whole hour. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you walked to the fridge bending down to grab your favorite juice. mumbling a good morning to your dad.

when you turned you woke up immediately, seeing your dad’s bare back as he leaned over the stove cooking eggs. large muscles on full display making you gasp.

“what’s wrong, little one?” he turned, showing his chest making sweat form at the base of your neck.

“uh, your, where’s your shirt? mom doesn’t like us to be naked,” you stammer, pointing to his naked chest.

“oh sorry darling, i spilled some oil on it.” he points to his shirt draped over his chair at the table. “it’s okay for us though dads and daughters can show skin. your mom’s just more strict with herself.”

“oh, are you sure?” you feel almost dizzy having never seen a boy without a shirt on you didn’t even know what to think.

“of course, baby. dads and daughters can be naked together, but don’t tell your mom you know she’d think we were yucky,” he grins like it’s your little secret.

“really!” you loved having things that were special just you and your dad. “then can i take my shirt off too?”

“well i think it’s only fair since you have to put up with your old dad’s chest,” he chuckles, turning the stove off before patting his stomach brushing over a small trail of hair. he acted like he was some beast but he was so handsome.

“you won’t laugh?”

“why would i laugh, you’re so beautiful,” he coos walking over to you hugging you close. his bare skin is warm and envelopes you, you can even smell the nice cologne he wears.

“you think so, dad?” you look up at him.

“i know so i’m lookin right at ya,” he teased, tapping your nose with his finger. “do you want dad’s help?”

“please,” you mutter looking away as his hands go to the hem of your shirt slowly pulling it up as you raise your arms for him.

“atta girl, you’re so brave for me,” he praises, watching your skin slowly appear. “such a pretty girl.” you stand in silence for a moment as your hair falls from the collar of the shirt looking to him for more confirmation.

“now why were you worried,” he grins, holding your shirt in his hand as he pets your head fixing your hair.

“it’s just, they aren’t too small,” you mumble, reaching to squeeze your small boobs.

“they’re just right for you, kiddo,” he assures, eyes staring at your hands squishing the soft mounds nipples hard from the air.

“i know some people- well mom she has way bigger ones. mine are so small,” you pout.

“everyone has different things, yours will grow soon, but if they don’t you still look so perfect to me. my precious little girl. isn’t it so nice we get to share this time and be together,” he says, making your tummy heat up at the praise. you nod in response it is so nice to have a dad who’s so open your mom would scold you for even asking.

“now how about some breakfast, kiddo?”

you sit across from each other at the table, his shirt still draped over his chair, yours folded neatly on the island. you told him about how you slept and talked about your dreams. his were always so silly but yours were so normal.

“now, when your mom gets home we will have to put our shirts back on but for now we can just stay like this, okay?” you nod looking to the clock counting the hours until your mom would arrive. right at 4pm on the dot everyday.

“but it’s our secret right? you won’t tell mom i was naked?”

“oh no baby, it’s our secret,” he holds out his hand pinky lifted to you. this was something knew he’d taught you. when it was a secret just you had he called it a pinky promise. your twist your little finger around his and stamp your thumbs together sealing it between you.

the thing that you loved the most about your new dad was how he didn’t tease you if you didn’t know something. when you were a kid the others your age in sunday school would tease you if you didn’t know something or if you asked a question. johnny never made you feel dumb or silly, he just gave you a really smart grown up answer and you appreciated it. he treated you like a grown up girl compared to your mom who acted like you were still a stupid little baby.

the whole first summer you spent taking your shirts off at breakfast like it was a big secret. giggling at each other when you’d see each other bare. leaving your shirts at the table so you could grab them. johnny even set an alarm so you wouldn’t forget.

that summer you spent a lot of time with johnny mainly on the couch or in his office. he was showing you all these movies you had only ever heard about. it was another one of your secrets getting to watch movies your mom didn’t want you to see.

in johnny’s office you’d ask him lots of questions about his work and he’d let you sit on his lap while he sent emails. that was probably your favorite. his warm skin touching yours as you’d lay back against him. sometimes even his nipples would touch your back.

“this is our special father daughter time,” he whispered, rubbing his hands over your legs making your heart swell.

“i love spending time with you, dad,” you grinned, turning your head to see his face.

“you’re such a sweet girl, you know most girls your age are sick of their dads. they’d rather be out partying, but you are so sweet to hang out with me.” he pinched your cheek.

“what? no way! i’d much rather be with you than anyone else. i love you so much,” you grinned, lifting your arms to hug him, squeezing him tight. he loved when you did this, your small perky nipples pushing into his chest completely oblivious to the effect you had on him.

“aww i love you soooo much,” he cooed, relishing the soft skin against his.

between your time with him in the office or on the couch you read. your mother had a set number of words for you each summer and you didn’t mind really, enjoying the fictional worlds you could find yourself in. you used to like it more, before johnny came around. now you just wanted to spend time with him in the real world.

after you finished a few chapters you’d go to the kitchen and get something to drink. after a few weeks of summer you noticed something, the door to the bathroom was slightly opened. you couldn’t help curious eyes peeking in seeing your dad peeing. you’d never seen a boy pee or even their thing. your mom had told you boys have different parts and they use the bathroom differently but you never knew what she meant.

but now it was standing in your face. well your dad was. standing facing the toilet holding his parts as he shot yellow liquid from himself. his head tilted back relaxed as he emptied so much into the bowl.

you watched intently staring at his hand gripping his big thing. you wondered how he hid it in his pants. as his stream slowed he grunted using his hand to stroke himself slowly before he shook the last of the dribbles off of the tip.

as soon as he started putting himself back in his pants you’d scurry off. hoping not to get caught watching him during his private time. you knew johnny probably wouldn’t care he was so kind and open but you still felt like you weren’t supposed to watch him. you held your pinky to yourself making a personal promise to not bother him again.

it didn’t take long for you to see him in the bathroom again. the time he was taking a shower though. and you really didn’t mean to but the water was running and you knew your mother would hate if someone had left it on.

when you walked to the open door you stopped in your tracks. seeing johnny’s bare back and even his boy butt as he rubbed shampoo in his hair. the fresh smell swirling out of the room along with the steam and you couldn’t stop yourself. standing right in the doorway watching his every move through the glass.

you don’t know how long you’d stayed there, but it was long enough to see him rinse the suds from his hair. then he turned lathering his body with soap. you couldn’t help the wandering eyes seeing his boy parts again. he was so pretty and strong and the smell coming from the steamy room was so him. you stayed until he reached for the faucet before scurrying off to your room.

at some point you didn’t care about his private time he was leaving the door open anyways. peeking from behind the door watching him spurt pee into the bowl hard and fast and sometimes it made you have to go. not realizing you’d been holding your pee and now his warm yellow stream tempted you.

you probably watched him at least once a day. it made you curious about your own pee. holding yourself open so you could watch it spray out of you. you weren’t really sure how or where it came out of you, couldn’t really see it.

you had spent some late nights in front of your mirror the moon illuminating your girl parts so you could investigate. constantly looking over your shoulder anytime you heard a sound scared your mom would punish you for looking at yourself. you folded the skin back peeking at your privates looking and poking at the bits. it was really sticky down there so you used tissues to wipe before poking more.

you knew sort of what was going on but you never saw a hole where pee could come out of. so you’d crawl on the bathroom counter squeezing yourself close to the mirror spreading yourself to look. there was a slit there maybe that’s where your pee came from.

during one of your movie mornings a scene made you curious. a boy in the movie leaned against a wall and started making a puddle. your eyes widened surprised by such a private moment on tv. shy you looked over to johnny who watched the screen.

“daddy,” you asked, leaning over the cushions to him.

“what’s up, baby,” he reached for the remote pausing the movie.

“can i ask you a question?”

“well that was a question, do you need one more?” he grinned and you laughed now familiar with his “dad jokes.”

“silly,” you giggled. “you don’t have to answer but- when boys peepee where does it come out?”

“hmm well boy parts are different from girl parts you know, but boys have a hole and it comes out from there.”

“do girls have a hole too?” he nods at you, grinning and pulling you close to him.

“yes girls actually have two holes down there but one is for peepee.”

“why two?”

“well one is for babies to come out of way, way later for you,” he says, brushing your hair behind your ear. it’s quiet for a minute before he breaks the silence. “i know you’ve been peeking at dad while he pees.”

“i- i’m sorry i,” you babble apologies embarrassment filling your tummy and tears pricking your eyes.

“shhh, baby you are okay. dad’s not mad, you're just curious. i just wish you’d ask me so i could show you,” he says, soothing you by rubbing his hand over your arm.

“you aren’t gonna punish me?” you whimper sucking in the tears.

“of course not. you know i’m a cool dad.” he grins at you.

“i just never. i never saw boy parts before, i didn’t know it was so big.” you sniffle.

“do you wanna see dad’s parts? i don’t mind showing my curious girl.”

“can i? just you promise not to tell mom, she’d be so mad at me,” you look away shyly.

“this is our thing remember,” he lifts your chin to meet your eyes. “just a dad and daughter lesson special for us.”

“thanks for not being mad, i promise i won’t peek,” you assure him.

“it’s okay, kiddo. i’ll let you watch if you’re curious.”

“really, can i now?” you get a little giddy bouncing closer to him.

“mmm i think i could go now.” he nods, lifting himself off the couch and helping you up. it’s quiet as you walk down the hall just feet pattering on the floor as he leads the way. the tile is cold and he flips the light switch pulling you to him.

“do you wanna sit here?” he pulls you to the edge of the tub letting you sit, the cold material makes you jump, your boobs bouncing as you look up at him.

“how about you look at my dad parts first, so you won’t have to wonder,” he grins down at you using his thumbs to push his sweats down.

“oh wow, how do you-“ you pause, not forming any words as his big part is right in front of you. you reach a hand but stop yourself embarrassed. he lifts his shirt showing you a patch of dark trimmed hair over a long stick hanging down.

“you can touch it, my baby’s gotta learn,” he grins, ruffling your hair. you reach a timid hand toward him staring at the large shaft. your small hand shakes as you touch him, fingers barely wrapping around him.

“good girl, you’re so brave asking dad questions,” he coos, you stare at the slit where his pee comes from, eyes racking from the plush tip down the larger part lifting it in your hand to see the small seam on the underside.

“it’s really pretty, dad,” you grin, it really is something. your eyes trail farther seeing the two large sacks hanging loosely under him. you’d heard about that before when a boy got kicked in the balls and it hurt.

“thank you, darling,” he lifts a finger pointing to the slit. “this is where boys peepee.” you move your free hand rubbing your small finger over it, face close enough he can feel your breath. “mmm, right there. just between us dad usually calls his parts his cock, but you can call it whatever you want.”

“dad you have such a big cock. so heavy,” you murmur, eyes roving over him. the filthy word coming from your mouth makes blood rush to his heavy member.

“some boys are smaller or bigger. everyone is different just like you and your mom have different girl parts.” you nod at him but it’s hard to imagine any other cock but your dads.

“will you show me,” you bite your lip as you look up at him, feeling his shaft pump in your hand.

“yeah let dad relax a bit,” you let go as he turns facing the toilet. you lean your head over watching as he sighs and a thick stream pours out of the slit. he reaches for your hand letting you hold him as he keeps streaming.

“do you keep it all in there,” you ask, holding his balls in your hand making him grunt.

“no baby, that's where dad keeps his special stuff,” he coos, slowing his stream. you mimic his movements shaking his cock letting the drips fall into the water.

“do i have special stuff?” you let go of him softly letting his parts rest.

“yes you do, just in different places,” he grins.

“dad i kinda,” you squirm still looking at him.

“do you need to peepee too?” you nod at him.

“just when you went it made me need to,” you twist your legs together bouncing a knee.

“i can go, baby,” but you grab his arm before he can move.

“no, i wanna show you how i pee.”

“aren’t you sweet, dad can help you with your parts too,” he grins, helping you up as you squirm with need.

“unhh,” you moan gripping over your privates as you try to hold it.

“aww did you wait too long, baby, ‘s okay,” he coos.

“just, i can,” you pout, squeezing yourself before you slowly peel your panties down shifting awkwardly.

“doing so good, you’re so strong,” the praise melted into your skin like hot wax. you slide your butt onto the cold seat lifting your skirt and peeking at your cunt.

“let dad see,” he squatted in front of you leaning in and spreading your legs as you squeezed every muscle to keep your pee in.

“such pretty girl parts,” he smiled up at you.

“really? mom says they’re icky that’s why we have to wax them,” you nod, looking at your parts a chubby hairless mound with a long slit down the middle.

“mom is so silly.” he huffed a laugh, pushing your legs wider. “such a soft, pretty girl. can you show dad?”

“it gets really sticky lately, but i promise i clean it a lot,” you babble.

“that’s your special stuff just like dad has. sticky is normal, it’s okay you can keep it a little sticky. it’s healthy,” he stares as you pull your sticky lips apart. getting the perfect view of your swollen bud and the tightest little hole. he loves how aroused you are just from watching him piss holding his cock in your hand has you all wet for him.

“oh so it’s not icky?” he shakes his head leaning closer to you inspecting your most private parts.

“when you’re this pretty you know what we call girl parts?” he paused as you shook your head looking to him for reassurance. “i like to call it a cunny, and you have the most beautiful cunny dad has ever seen.”

“really,” you feel so giddy with excitement. it makes a small dribble of piss spill from you.

“does that make you excited,” he grinned at you holding your thighs open as the small trickle spilled. “when dad compliments your pretty cunny?”

“unhuh, i just like that dad likes me,” you mumble.

“you’re so cute, of course dad likes you. dad loves you and your cunny,” he grins, his large hand soothing over your knee.

“i love you dad. thanks for teaching me.”

“that’s what dads are for. now you see that little nub,” he asks pointing to the swollen raised bud on your cunny. you nod looking between your legs pulling the mound back to expose the swollen bud.

“that’s your clitty and right under there is a tiny hole for special girl pee,” you nod but you can’t see much below the swollen bump. “when you don’t have to go so bad dad can show you in the mirror all your parts.”

“yeah, i’d like that,” you grin, squirming again.

“go ahead and go you’ve been doing so good for your dad,” he coos, massaging his hand over your thigh. you relax into his touch whimpering as you let your pee go. hot splashing into the water already filled with your dad’s pee. you felt sort of warm and heavy at the thought of your pee mixing with his like it was special.

“let it all out, such a good girl for your dad,” you look down at him staring into his eyes as you empty all you were holding, craving more of his touch but you’re always too shy to ask.

that was the first time you showed your dad your cunny.

now almost every morning your dad would pull you into the bathroom letting you hold his dad cock. you’d hold him helping aim his yellow stream into the bowl before it was your turn. you hurry and tug your shorts down spreading your legs for your dad showing him your cunny over and over.

he even helped you see the tiny hole where your pee came out. held a mirror in front of you so you could see it. he was really the best. you still peeked at him when he was in the shower you couldn’t help it. you wondered if he watched you too while you left the door open.

most of the time he peed first but mornings like this where you really had to go he’d let you sit first.

“oh, baby, i don’t know if i can wait, can dad go with you?” he stood in front of you and you looked up at him nodding.

“how are you gonna do that?” you giggled.

“spread your legs for dad,” you did as he said, pushing your thighs back as his cock was in your face. he held it letting the hot stream aim right in front of your cunny.

you loved hearing the moan he let out when he really had to go. watching his pee hole right from the front was even better, his pee hitting the stream you were letting out. you reached up to hold his cock helping him aim as he shut his eyes releasing all he’d been saving up.

your stream was slowing but his seemed to keep going, spilling out and even hitting your thighs. you kind of liked it, warm drops of your dad’s pee on your legs. it made you feel so warm and close to him.

“such a good girl,” he pets your hair as you stare at his yellow pee starting to slow down.

“you have so much pee, dad,” you giggled, accidentally moving your hand making his pee hit your cunny.

“unhhh.” you whined, the sensation felt so good. so you aimed what was left letting it hit your cunny right in the center making you whine.

“mmm, thanks for helping?” you nodded as he dribbled the last of his pee between your thighs. he didn’t mention the way you had used his pee to feel tingly on your cunny.

you started doing that more often. your dad standing in front of you letting you aim his pee onto your cunny. he definitely saw you doing it, saw you spreading yourself and pointing his stream right on you. saw you rutting your hips and biting your lips.

you really felt so special having a dad like him. no one had ever paid so much attention to you and your needs but your dad sure did. he even helped you pick out your clothes for church on sunday. helping you go through your closet and finding the perfect pretty dress.

“you know, little bit, i think it might be time we get you a big girl bra,” he turned facing you as you sat on your floor rummaging through your dresser.

“really? i always wanted one, but mom says i have to keep them flat so they don’t distract,” you pout, shutting the drawer.

“well you’re a growing girl. your pretty tits are swelling now, we need to get you something to hold them.” he assures, squatting beside you nodding to your bare chest.

“but mom won’t let me,” you stare at your chest nipples puffy.

“it can be our thing. dad can take you and we can get you fit for one maybe even get you some pretty matching panties,” he grins, rubbing his large hand over your calf.

“oh really! dad you’re the best,” you squeal bouncing and hugging him close. you pull him off balance making him fall on top of you his hard chest pushing into yours.

“silly girl,” he grins, holding his hand on your cheek. you stay like that for a moment just staring at his pretty eyes and the shadow of stubble over his lips.

“dad can you kiss me? like you do mom?” you don’t even think before you ask, you’d stop doing that with him a while ago.

“aww you want a kiss? i know you get jealous when dad kisses mom in the morning,” he teases, lowering himself over you.

“i just wanna be dad’s favorite,” you pout puffing your lips up.

“you are dad’s favorite, just don’t tell mom,” he grins.

“our secret?” you hold your pinky up and he takes it.

“our secret,” he confirms linking his pinky with yours.

“i’m ready,” you push your lips out and shut your eyes. he can’t get enough of how precious you are. holding your pinky as he leans in and pecks your lips before pulling away.

“daddddd,” you groan, kicking your feet under him. “you use your tongue with mom.”

“even jealous of that? when we have some time dad will use his tongue, but your mom’s almost home we need to get ready,” his answer makes you pout craving his tongue.

“i wish she never came home. i like being with you.”

“i know, baby,” he coos, brushing your hair.

“can we pee before she comes home? i have a lot and your big dad cock is pushing on my tummy,” you squirm under him.

“mmm i think we have time.” he grins, standing up and helping you to the bathroom. he can’t help the blood pumping into his member, hearing you say things like that so casually.

before your mom got home dad promised to take you shopping tomorrow for a big grown up girl bra. you couldn’t sleep, you were so excited to go out. mom would be so mad if dad hadn’t asked her nicely.

but johnny didn’t ask mom.

that morning you felt so excited, giddy, and grinning and not sleeping in despite staying up late into the night thinking of your outing. you practically bounced into the kitchen grinning when you saw your dad.

“need me to help you get ready?” he smiled when he saw you still in your pjs.

“i’m so excited i couldn’t even sleep,” you bounced on your feet almost jumping over to him like a bunny.

“you’re so cute! been thinking about what you wanna get? maybe a color you want?” he smooths your messy hair.

“mmm i can’t decide i think pink would be so pretty but red is nice and mom always had those pretty black ones with lace.” you ramble on about all of your bra ideas.

“we can get whatever you want,” he confirms, tapping your nose.

“you’re the best dad ever.”

you felt so sneaky getting into johnny’s car riding in the passenger seat like a grown up. your mom always made you ride in the backseat saying it was safer, but now you were up front beside your dad and going out on a day you wouldn’t normally wouldn’t. you wondered what was so different on wednesday’s compared to saturday and sunday.

the weather was so sunny as you stared out the window looking at all the people walking or biking, even seeing some dogs. everything was so beautiful outside you didn’t understand why your mom didn’t like you going out.

you drove down roads you didn’t recognize taking in all the new scenery. you came to huge building bigger than any you had scene before and the parking lot was just as massive.

“wow,” you looked at the rows of cars in awe.

“now there’s gonna be a lot of people, okay? this is a mall and lots of people come to shop and hang out,” he tells you. you nod, taking in the expansive space.

“are there more stores? is it just one big store?” you questioned unbuckling your seatbelt and jumping out.

“lots of different stores, they have clothing shops, food, toys, all different stuff,” he smiles, he holds a hand out and you take it. “you don’t mind holding your dad’s hand, i don't want you getting lost.”

“i loveeee holding your hand,” you squeeze his large palm skipping down the parking lot towards the building.

the place is massive, with elevators and even moving stairs going up and down with loads of people. you feel like you’re in a movie and you’re the main character. there’s shops beside shops and rows of stores as you walk in. your dad leads the way keeping your hand in his.

“it’s so huge,” you mumble, taking everything in letting your head turn back and forth as you gawk.

“is it too much?” he stops beside you, making you look at him and you shake your head.

“i love it. i wanna live here,” you grin, tugging his hand to get him walking again. he just smiles, squeezing your hand and leading you again. you pass so many people and you smile at everyone, grinning when you see a chubby-faced baby or a dog in a vest. before long you get turned and dragged into a store almost tripping over your feet since you aren’t paying attention.

“hi welcome in,” a store worker says. you smile and wave looking around the room at all the neutral walls covered in racks with bright colored bras and panties. “do you need any help today?”

“we do actually, she’s wanting to get a fitting, but is it okay if we look around first?” johnny leads the conversation as you rake your eyes over the merchandise taking in all the patterns.

“of course, i will get my things together, you can come find me when you’re ready.” she smiles, directing her hand to the large showroom that you’re already immersed in.

“it’s amazing,” you coo, pulling johnny’s arm to the first rack you see.

“now don’t pick too much, let's start with three you like,” he instructs and you nod your head using your free hand to comb through the displays.

“wow, they even have sparkly ones,” you grin, holding up a sparkly padded bra.

“how cute,” he nods, helping you sort through. you meander through the different displays so many racks of so many different things. there’s small bras and different shapes, even strapless. there were bras attached to dresses and even one piece with panties. you and so many questions like how did you pee in that, or how does the bra stay with no straps, and did you wear the bra dresses as a dress.

“ok i like these two the most,” you grin, holding up two bras, one soft pink with floral swirling lace and the other a teal with lace and a bow.

“those are such good choices. what about the third one?”

“will you pick one i want one you like,” you bite your lip.

“aren’t you sweet, hmmm,” he says, glancing over the racks before pulling you to the one he’s set on. “this one would look beautiful.”

“wow, it’s so pretty,” you stare at the soft white bra, it was mesh with small lace details and you think you’re in love. “you think?” you ask him, holding up the small hanger to your chest.

“mmm, yep that’s the one,” he wants to moan in the middle of the store, his pretty girl posing in front of him, his cock starting to fill up.

“find anything you like?” the worker walks up again and you nod holding the three choices in your hands. “perfect, if you will follow me we can start the fitting.”

she leads the way and johnny lets you follow but stays close behind you with a comforting hand on your waist. she walks to the back to the store, opening a large curtain with other curtains along the walls, most of them opened.

“okay we will be in here,” she motions to the room and you enter. “have you ever had a fitting done?” you shake your head suddenly shy.

“can he stay with me?” you ask biting your lip and throwing a thumb over your shoulder to johnny.

“of course! since it’s your first fitting it’s good to have someone you trust,” she smiles politely motioning for you and johnny to go in. “if you want to get changed there is a robe right here and just let me know when you’re ready.

“thank you,” johnny smiles and you nod. she walks backwards, shutting the curtain behind her. you turn to johnny quickly pushing your head into his chest face heating up.

“shh, don’t be nervous, little one. you know how we take our clothes off,” he pauses and you lift your head nodding to him. “just like that okay, and she’s very nice. gonna use her measuring tape so it will fit perfect,” he soothes your anxiety by rubbing small circles with his big hands over your back.

“will you help me?” you grip his shirt pulling him somehow closer smelling his cologne to calm yours.

“mhmm, can you lift your arms?” you pull away lifting your hands over your head as his hand glide under the hem softly touching your skin before lifting the fabric and pulling it over your head. he had told you not to wear your training bra since you could get one here so you were bare. nipple hard in the cool store air poking out embarrassingly. your chest had started growing some more over summer slightly bulging out of your tiny bra.

“good girl,” he coos, tossing the fabric on the chair in the corner before turning back to you. “let dad get your shoes.” he kneels in front of you untying your white sneakers, letting you hold onto his large shoulder as you step out.

“you sneaky girl,” he grins up at you peeking under your skirt seeing your bare cunny. you grin back pushing your hands over your front trying to hide.

“just thought you said no bra so maybe none of these too?” you wiggle your hips in front of him. his large hands cover your thighs as he spreads your legs using his fingers he opens your cunny to him.

“hnnn,” you jerk as the cool air from the room hits your privates not aware that it’s your dad blowing a stream of air onto you.

“getting so excited aren’t you?” he teases, hands roaming higher before finding the zipper of your skirt easily. he slides it slowly and lets the fabric fall to the floor and pool at your feet.

“step back,” he instructs and you do, moving over so he can lift the skirt and toss it with your shirt. then he stands back in front of you grabbing your arms and turning you to the mirror.

“see how pretty you are, dad’s little beauty,” he whispers in your ear, making you shiver, his hands massaging your tummy. he turns to grab the robe hanging on the wall and helps you into it, tying it neatly over you.

“ready?” you nod your head the nerves in your tummy have calmed significantly. he leans his head out of the curtain summoning the lady back to the room.

“are you ready?” you nod to her facing her as she walks to you johnny takes a seat on the chair folding your clothes neatly beside him.

“okay, first let’s just loosen your tie just a bit and slip your arms out so you are still covered down there,” she helps you loosen the knot and slide your arms out of the silky sleeve exposing your small chest.

“now i’m going to use this to help measure you in five different places,” she smiles at you through the mirror.

“okay,” you agree, letting her lift your arms as she loops the yellow ribbon around you once, twice, and three times before writing in a small notebook.

“now we do the shoulders,” you nod, peeking over at your dad through the mirror and he’s already smiling back watching as her hand slides the tape over your skin. she pauses and right more in her notebook. “let’s get that back on.” she comments, helping you put your arms back into the robe.

“that’s it?”

“yep, easy peasy,” she grins. “i’ll go grab these in your size and be right back.” she smiles as she leaves, grabbing the three bras on the hook by the door.

“not so bad?” johnny says and you turn to him, cheesing at him as if you’ve just won first place.

“i thought she was gonna use like a big machine or something,” you say, standing in front of your dad.

“you were so brave,” he says looking up at you. “such a good girl.”

“thanks for helping me not be nervous,” you reach for his face touching his stubbly cheek with your small hand soothing him the way he does you.

“you know i love helping you, but you did it all yourself my brave little girl,” he coos, leaning into your hand. you hear a knock on the wall and pull away before the worker enters.

“so i have these in your size,” she hangs the bras on the hook. “i also grabbed these in your size but different styles so you can see what you like.” she smiles sweetly and you look at the new bras she brought in dark plums and emeralds. “i got the matching panties for you. if you need any help let me know.”

“want help?” he grins up at you as she leaves and you nod, pulling his hand to stand him up. he reaches to pull the tie of your robe, helping you out of it and laying it over the chair he had been sitting in.

“so pretty,” he mumbles, eyes grazing your body, making you shy.

“daddd,” you giggled pushing at his hard chest. he grabbed your hand and then the other pulling them away from your body so he could look you over.

“which do you wanna try first?” he asked, pulling you to the hooks on the way filled with bras. you pointed at the pretty pink one you had picked out.

“good choice.” he smirks, letting go of your hands and taking the bra from the hanger. he turns you around, moving you in front of the mirror while he looms behind you. he’s so much bigger than you, taller and wider as he lingers behind you.

he unclasps the bra and reaches around you holding the cups over your small breasts as you slide your arms through the straps. you can feel him breathing on your neck as his hands pull the clasps together and snap them closed. he uses a finger to lift the straps straightening them over your shoulders before his hands lower sliding over the skin of your tummy just about your cunny.

“mmm i like this one,” he coos, letting his chin rest on your shoulder.

“the color is so pretty,” you smile softly, watching him in the mirror more than yourself.

“does everything feel okay? no poking or too tight?” he smoothed his hands in small circles over your hips.

“nuhuh, feels okay,” you mumble distractedly.

“let dad feel okay?” you nod as he slips his hands higher softly passing your rib cage and cupping your small breasts over the fabric.

“unh,” you whimper as his large hands engulf you massaging your skin.

“feel good?” you nod stupidly, biting your lip and leaning into his touch. “fits you so good, kiddo. cute little tits sitting all perfect.” he compliments using his fingers to dance over the fabric covering your now hard nipples making you buck at the touch. he grins, lowering his hands back to your hips.

“more touch me more, dad,” you murmur, holding a hand over your own breast.

“mmm, feels really good huh?” you nod as he lifts his left hand again keeping his other hand on your hip as he touches you. you try to copy his movements but your small hand is nothing compared to his. “pretty girl, so glad you’re my daughter.” you whimper again trying to hide your face in his as he gropes you.

“makes me so,” you huff, his other hand now cupping yours helping you move over your breast.

“tell dad how it makes you feel.”

“tingly,” you puff, breathing harder as he grins at you watching you squirm in the mirror, hips jerking at every touch.

“where, baby?”

“my,” you pause letting his fingers push and circle your nipples poking through the fabric. “cunny.”

“mmm yeah? makes dad’s cock feel tingly too,” he says rubbing his hardening bulge against your small butt.

“unhhh, really?” you blink up at him, lips wet from spit that’s started spilling out.

“mhmm, i know it feels good baby, but we gotta try on these bras okay?” you pout at him wanting to stomp your feet like a brat. “how about dad makes a little deal with you?”

“what kind?” you ask, his grip loosening but still massaging you.

“if you be really, really good and try on all these pretty bras, dad will get you a few, then we can go to any stores you want,” he pauses and you nod as he continues. “then when we get home dad can touch you some more?”

“please,” you whine, pleading eyes looking up at him.

“mmm, now be a good girl okay,” you nod. he pulls his hands away much to your dismay but you think of the delicious reward that will await.

he takes his time helping you try on all the bras and letting you pick your favorites. you end up leaving with five bras and matching panties. you can’t help the grin that fills your face as you hold his hand the large bag in the other filled with goodies for you.

he lets you pick out some shops to explore and spoils you rotten. getting you new outfits that are mainly for his enjoyment, skimpy pajamas, tiny skirts, and a new church dress. he let you browse some stores and get new hair clips and some new stuffed animals for your bed.

you picked out a bear saying it looked just like your dad saying you’d hold it close every night. it makes his cock twitch, seeing his pretty girl sleeping with her legs wrapped around a big bear like her dad.

he even takes you to get a slushie full of sugar and something he called a pretzel but was way too big and soft to be a pretzel. but the cinnamon sugar and icing made it the best thing you’d ever had. your mom didn’t let you have sugar, caffeine, or dyes so this was like a sneaky birthday party.

you held his big hand as you skipped down the parking lot back to his car, giggling as you watched him try to skip beside you holding all the bags in one hand. you stand beside him as he loads all the items in the trunk when it hits you the sudden urge to pee making you squeeze your legs together.

“you okay?” he looks at you with concern on his face as he slams the trunk.

“pee, gotta,” you whine, cupping yourself as you jump.

“aww baby, did you get so excited you forgot?” he coos, holding your face as you pout to him nodding.

“sorry, dad,” you blubber, bouncing your legs making your skirt flash your butt to whoever was walking by.

“it’s okay, shhh,” he soothes, pulling you to him for a hug. he smirks over your head the idea of what he can get you to do. “hmm let’s see.”

“i dunno if i can hold it,” you whimper, squeezing a hand over your cunny.

“c’mere,” he pulls you between his car and the one beside it looking around to see who was walking by. “squat for me.”

“can’t ’s gonna,” you want to listen but the push on your bladder will make you spill.

“it’s okay baby, dad will keep watch, you can’t help it.” he holds your hand rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “go ahead, little one.”

you listen to him moaning as you bend your knees, the push on your bladder growing. you try to keep it in but a small gush comes out soaking your hand through your skirt as it hisses out onto the pavement.

“it’s okay,” he coos standing over you watching you slowly lower yourself lifting your damp skirt with your hand. you squeeze his palm before the stream pushes out of you hot piss arching from your cunny soaking your lips as it sprays out.

“good girl, spread your cunny so you don’t get wet,” he grins, he feels sick in the head. his cock hardening as people pass looking at you spreading your virgin cunt spraying piss over your own shoes and your dads.

you moan letting your head fall back as your stream continues, hot yellow liquid puddling all over the pavement and even if you wanted to stop you can’t it feels too good. you don’t notice the people walking by grinning at your accident.

“you had to go huh?” he pets over your head watching the piss start to trickle down the pavement flowing like a river. you nod stupidly overtaken by the pleasure of your full bladder emptying under you. your pretty white shoes yellow as you douse them with the flow. as you slow you open your eyes looking up at your dad who’s already staring back a small sweet smile on his face.

“oh no,” you whine, spurting out the last of the pee with a jerk of your hips. the mess is huge, a large pool under you and on your shoes dripped down the pavement and under the next car.

“you’re okay, baby,” he coos, helping you up. your dripping cunny is slippery under your fingers

“i’m dirty, dad,” you pout, showing him the drips hanging on to your mound and slit.

“i’ll help you,” he says, opening the door behind you, sitting you on the edge of the seat. he squats down in front of you spreading your thighs as you lift your soaked skirt showing him the golden droplets.

“dad’s gonna use his tongue to clean you up, okay, kiddo?” he says, leaning his face closer to you.

“ ‘s too dirty,” you whine, but he comes closer, opening his mouth and sliding his tongue over your cunny.

“oh, dad,” you gasp, melting back into the hot leather seat. his tongue dips into you sliding over the folds over your cunny collecting every drop and then some. he spreads your lips pushing his tongue into your sticky slit gliding it up and down swirling it over your pee hole and your clitty.

you moan out too naive to know what you’re feeling. johnny savors it the first mouth to ever touch your cunt and it’s your sweet dad’s. hips bucking chasing the foreign feeling you don’t fully understand just know it feels so good.

“dad, dad,” you mumble, jerking your hips into his face. he’s grinning between your thighs trying to close around him, slipping his tongue deeper not letting you escape. your taste is addictive bitter piss mixing with your sweet, sweet virgin juices making him dizzy.

he couldn’t stop diving into you like a cold pool on a hot day. his tongue slurping at your fluttering hole before finding your clitty and sucking it between his lips. your breathing growing ragged and uneven as you fall closer to some peak.

“so, oh my, dad,” you aren’t coming up with the right words leaning back against the center console as he slurps you up. your slick practically pouring from your hole drowning his tongue as he drinks you. the pleasure building in your tummy makes you whine and squirm craving pleasure but it’s almost overwhelming.

“gonna pee, dad, can’t,” you mewl, far too innocent to know this is an orgasm. squeezing your eyes as you jerk under him, gripping at the seat. his hot tongue flicking over your clitty as your legs shake muscles spasming as you squirt the last of your pee into his mouth.

he grins drinking you up the thought of your first orgasm in a parking lot on your dad’s tongue such an icky girl he has. his mind races and fills his cock with the ways he wants to ruin you. too naive to know you’ve just cum on your dad’s tongue in front of passersby.

he doesn’t stop lapping up the gushes of cum and piss from your cunny slurping it up like you were earlier with your slushy. your legs are vibrating around his head as he cleans the last of your juices before pulling away.

he watches you catching your breath, licking his lips tasting all of you. your cunny is slimy and swollen, still dripping from your slit, clit twitching as you come down. there’s another puddle under his car now from the juices you couldn’t help but drip, it’s a shame he didn’t get to savor them.

“you okay?” he whispers, rubbing his hand over your knee. you nod stupidly, your hair ruffling against the seat.

“so, oh wow, dad,” you mumble, lifting your lazy head looking down at him. “i felt so weird and so good.”

“mmm, you did good for dad, now you’re all clean,” he grins at you cum and piss glistening on his chin.

“sorry for making a mess,” you mumble looking away as you try to sit up. your whole body feels like jelly.

“no baby, dad likes when you make messes. you know i like cleaning up, and what better than to clean up my girl,” he grins, standing up and ruffling your hair helping you sit in the car before buckling your seatbelt. you fall asleep before he even starts the car overwhelmed and satisfied with your day cunny still dripping on the leather seat. as he drives off he looks back at the puddle you made wishing he got a picture so he could start that father daughter scrapbook.

you couldn’t help but crave the same feeling your dad had given you when he cleaned you up. every time you peed you wondered why it didn’t feel the same when you cleaned yourself up. you wanted his tongue to slurp over your cunny and get all the pee out of you.

you were sitting at the kitchen table just finished breakfast and squirming with the need to pee. you were being patient waiting for your dad to finish putting the dishes in the dishwasher. you were bouncing in your chair pushing your heel into your cunny to keep your pee in. the running water coming from behind you made it worse, thoughts of emptying yourself making you push your cunny harder.

“gotta go?” you turn your head seeing dad watching your squirming and you nod.

“think i had too much juice,” you pout, pushing yourself against your heel.

“how about we get all that pee out?” he turns the water off and dries his hands walking over to you.

“it’s so hard, dad, pushing on my cunny,” you wiggle, as he steps in front of you.

“you think you can make it?” he puts a hand on the back of your chair.

“dunno, i can try,” you whimper.

“c’mere,” he coos, wrapping an arm around your waist lifting your arms to wrap around him. he lifts you with one hand using the other to cup your cunny, helping keep the pee in. “so full your little tummy is swelling.”

“unhuh,” you mumble peeking at the bulge in your belly rubbing a hand over your taut skin. “kinda like how it feels dad. makes my cunny tingle when it’s all full.”

“mmm, yeah? dad likes it too makes his cock tingle,” he coos, rubbing his hand over your cunny keeping pressure on you as he walks down the hall towards the bathroom.

“really, so it’s not weird?” you ask, looking at his face, his fluffy hair bouncing with each step.

“nope, it’s good to feel good, and cunny tingles are really good,” he grins at you but walks past the bathroom.

“dad,” you ask, turning to see the door pass you by.

“going to mom and dad’s room. gonna be hard for you to get your panties off so i can help you in the tub,” he says casually and you nod your head, tummy sloshing. his warm hand feels so good on your cunny, rubbing softly and keeping the pressure as your bladder begs for release.

“so cunny tingles are normal and good?”

“so good baby, you know when dad helped clean you up?” you nod squeezing your legs at the memory. “made your cunny feel good right?”

“so good, would you clean me up again?” you ask shyly, leaning your head into his neck.

“of course baby,” he smiles, pushing open his bedroom door. the pictures on the wall of him and your mom getting married. she looked so pretty and your dad so handsome. he walked to the bathroom keeping his hand on your cunny as he let you down the gravity causing all the pee to push more making your bounce.

“let’s sit here,” he says, helping you to the tub and lifting you into it easily.

“can we pee in the bathtub? mom always said that was icky,” you say nervously.

“for dad and daughter time we can,” he grins, stepping into the large tub with you. his warm hand rubs against your cunny shorts damn but you don’t notice. “can you stand here.”

you follow his lead standing near the side of the tub. he squats in front of you using one hand to slide your shorts and panties down before sliding the other side. your cunny stays covered as he pulls the sides as low as they will go. then he slips his bare hand over your bare cunny holding you letting his finger push between your slick slit.

he grins to himself curling his finger slightly to feel your hole. letting your shorts fall to the tub before picking them up and tossing them out.

“are you gonna pee too?” you ask, staring down at his every move.

“of course, wouldn’t let you do it all alone,” he coos, standing up again his finger sliding through your virgin folds. “sit here baby.” he helps you sit down on the edge of the tub as one of his hands slides down his sweats letting his cock bob out fuller and heavier than you’ve seen.

“dad your cock is all bouncy,” you giggle, squeezing your legs around his hand.

“that’s cause dad’s cock getting tingly too,” he grins to you using one foot he kicks the sweats out of the tub. he stands bare in front of you, his heavy dad cock swaying as he moves the tip darker than you’ve seen it.

“dad you gotta go bad, you’re leaking,” you comment, noticing a dribble of what you guess is pee already sneaking out.

“happens when dad feels really tingly, like when your cunny gets sticky,” he grins, sliding his finger through the slick.

“wanna go,” you mumble the need overwhelming you suddenly.

“mmm, let it out baby,” he says, pulling sticky fingers from you staring as you spread your legs. it takes no time for a hot arch to spurt out of you making you moan in pleasure. tingling cunny mixing with the relief of peeing feels so good.

“good girl, get all that pee out for dad,” he coos, sticking his finger into his mouth tasting your juices. he’s been thinking about your taste for a week. dreaming about his teen daughter’s virgin cunt in his mouth, jerking off with thoughts of you and your little accident.

you use your fingers to spread your cunny pushing your pee out as you lift your knees showing off your stream. your head leaned back as you let go giving your dad a chance to lean in letting your stream hit his mouth. he moans at the taste as he pulls away hot yellow dripping down his chin as he savors you, keeping the liquid on his tongue.

“so good for dad, must have been so full,” he mewls, rubbing a hand over your inner thigh as he swallows. he leans closer letting your stream hit his chest and trickle down his filling cock. god he wants to jerk off right now get his cock covered in your piss and use it as lube. if only you knew how twisted your dad was.

“so full,” you pant, opening your eyes to meet your dads. his sweet soft face watching your cunny push out your pee as it splatters into the tub a large yellow puddle forming and flowing to the drain.

“so pretty baby, you pee so pretty for me,” he grins at you rubbing a thumb closer and closer to your center. your stream slows hissing quieting as you dribble the last bits letting it slide down your cunny and drip below you.

“felt so good,” you whimper.

“i know baby, dad’s gonna make you feel even better when he cleans you up,” he leans in, letting his knees hit the puddle you made but he doesn’t even care.

“thanks, dad,” you mumble, excitement bubbling in your tummy as his face comes closer, his breath hitting your dripping cunny. he uses his large hands to hold your thighs as he laps up your drips. you whine his hot tongue sliding over your cunny making you feel hot all over.

“mmmm, dad,” you call out, fingers gripping your knees as he grins into your cunt. his tongue fast and sloppy as he collects every golden drop savoring it on his tongue, your taste so addictive. slick and piss mixing in his mouth as he swirls over your hole licking up your pee hole to your clitty.

you can’t help but start panting, tongue falling from your mouth stupidly as he devours you. sloppy mouth slurping at you as he sucks your clitty into his mouth. you squeal, kicking your feet against his back at the pleasure, your eyes filling with overwhelmed tears.

part of you wants him to stop or slow down because it’s so much but another part of you wants more. that part wins. bucking hips into his face awkwardly craving more. he loves how stupid you get trying to grind against him begging for more as he sucks you in using his tongue perfectly.

“dad, more, more is coming out,” you whimper, slobbering on your chin as your legs start to shake. your tummy tightens until it lets go spraying into his mouth as you cum. legs shaking around him whining and moaning unable to control yourself. he drinks you up again letting his tongue linger on your gushing cunny flicking as he collects every drop.

he can’t help himself, he’s obsessed with the way you sound, your overwhelmed reaction to what you don’t know is an orgasm. he slows his flicks, lazily sliding his tongue up and down through your folds. your taste is addictive. he pulls away as you calm down lips and chin sticky watching your hips jerk in his hold.

“did so good for dad,” he praises, rubbing his hands over your skin.

“dad you clean me really good, get all the pee out,” you babble, looking at him with dazed eyes. “does it taste funny?”

“no baby, you taste so good. i think dads are made to like the taste of their daughters,” he tells you casually and you nod. “wanna taste?”

“i tasted my pee before, it’s kinda sour,” you admit, he’s sort of taken aback but the thought of your shy fingers collecting your piss to taste makes his cock bounce higher.

“gimme your fingers,” he says, holding his hand out and you give him what he wants. he uses your small fingers to rub over your slit collecting the last of your cum on your fingers.

“sensitive,” you whimper, eyes trained on where your fingers touch your cunny. he grins as he pulls your sticky fingers away, turning your hand and pushing it to your face. you open your mouth almost on command letting your fingers slide on your tongue. you don’t taste the same bitterness, it’s sweet and sticky like syrup.

“see, you taste so good,” he grins, and you nod, collecting all of the taste on your tongue.

“can i clean your cock when you pee?” he feels his heart race the thought of you using your tongue something he’s been dreaming of.

“wanna try?” you nod quickly letting your feet down, toes touching your puddle. his cock is even harder now bouncing bigger between his legs.

“yeah, i bet it tastes good too,” you smile.

“mmm, yeah daughters usually like how their dads taste too,” he grins standing up in front of you, his knees dripping from your pee as you lean forward.

“so big dad must feel really tingly?” you say, reaching to hold his standing cock.

“so tingly, especially when my pretty girl feels good,” he pets your sweet face as you look up at him, his cock still growing, your fingers not wrapping around him fully.

“dad why when i clean my cunny it doesn’t feel as good?” you ask.

“that’s cause dad’s doing it. feels so good when dad’s help their girls. it’s called cumming, dad made you cum,” he tells you and you nod stupidly.

“come where?”

“silly, when your cunny feels really good and you feel like you’re gonna pee it’s called cum.” he confirms, god you were so innocent.

“can i make dad cum?” you were really gonna kill him. his cock twitches at your words, more precum leaking from his tip.

“do you want to?” you nod eagerly, hand sliding over his shaft.

“such a sweet girl. let dad get his pee out first,” he pushes your hair back and you nod leaning closer to his cock.

“let it out dad, it feels so good,” you say, he groans above you pushing a small spurt of his out of his slit. it shoots up, your eyes wide following the high stream making you smile. “wow.”

“when dad gets hard and tingly it’s hard to aim,” he chuckles. you use your hand to angle his cock not pushing too far but it stands slit pointed to your tits.

“it’s ok dad, i got my pee on you,” you smile sweetly, coaxing him to let go again. he can’t help himself, thrusting his hips into your hand pushing his piss straight out letting it hit your chest. it splatters and you giggle hot liquid hitting you and dribbling down your tummy.

“do more, dad,” you beg, and he obliges, thrusting his hips into your hand forcing his pee onto you. your wide curious eyes watching the yellow liquid hit you. he bites his lip trying to keep himself from fully fucking your little hand.

“mmm, doing so good helping dad, you look so pretty with my pee on you,” he coos, you feel shy turning your eyes from his to focus on his spurting cock. “fuckkk.” he groans, thrusting into your hand.

“dadddd, language,” you grin.

“can’t help it feels so good,” he moans, his hand rubs down his chest and stomach, his fingers splitting holding the base of his cock.

“is it okay to say bad words when your cock feels good?”

“yeah, but just between us two. when your cunny feels good you can say it,” he hisses, his still thrusting slowly but his pee has mostly stopped gushing he’s too hard to go.

“are you all done?” you coo and he nods at you. “can i make you cum now, dad.”

“yeah baby, just use your tongue to clean dad up,” he says, you nod nervously eyes wide as you bring your face closer. you take an experimental lick over the slit collecting the drops of pee and something sticky. it tastes bitter but in a good way so you flick your tongue again.

“mmm, just like that baby, doing so good,” he moaned, watching your small mouth open using your tongue to swirl around his tip. he knows he’s gonna cum too fast, his fantasy coming to life right in front of him. his precious daughter tasting him using her mouth to make him cum.

you swirl your tongue like you would on a popsicle and that seems to make your dad really feel good. he groans above you watching as you do your best to clean him up. there’s more sticky stuff in your mouth and you like it so much and you can’t stop breathing in the musky smell from his cock.

“try using your mouth to suck the tip,” he directs, and you listen, opening your mouth and forcing his big cock inside, wrapping your small lips around the tip, sucking him like a straw. “unhuh, just like that, cleaning dad so good.”

you move your head back and forth taking as much of his tip into your mouth as you can, softly stroking the base of his cock. you’re so eager to hear more praise from his mouth so you speed up thinking that will work and it does. he calls out for you moaning your name and it makes your cunny tingle again but not with the need to pee.

“oh, baby, dad’s gonna cum,” he moans, stomach tightening as his release builds. “pull back, baby.”

it’s the first time you don’t listen to him craving more of his taste and working hard already. you want to make him cum making him feel like he makes you feel. so you keep your lips latching onto his tip as he tries to pull away. the pleasure fills him as he thrusts into your mouth making you choke hot liquid filling your mouth.

you pull back coughing and choking, spitting white onto his cock as more spills out. you watch in awe as white pee shoots from his slit hitting your mouth and chest. the taste is salty on your tongue as you catch your breath.

“didn’t listen to dad,” he groans, slowing his thrusts as the liquid slowly dribbles down his tip.

“just wanted to make you feel good,” you feel embarrassed and bad. your tummy filling with guilt for not listening to him.

“aww baby, is okay, just didn’t want to scare you,” he coos, petting over your head. you look back up at him, eyes watery and mouth dripping spit and cum and it makes a perfect image in his filthy head. innocent daughter, with her dad’s cum on her lips and chin such a filthy sight.

“sorry, dad,” you whimper.

“no baby, you did so good look at how much you made dad cum,” he grins. you see all the white puddling on the floor mixing with the pee and it makes you happy. his cock softening in your hand but you keep it wrapped in your fingers. “felt so good for dad. got all my cum out,” he says.

“is that the white pee?” you ask innocently, sliding your fingers on your lips and licking them.

“mhmm, that’s dad’s cum. boy cum is white and thick that’s the special stuff dad keeps here,” he tells you cupping his heavy balls.

“oh wow, tastes salty,” you smile, teeth sticky as white drips in your mouth.

“yeah? you did so good baby, dad came so much been so long since he felt so good,” he soothes your hair with some sticky white in the strands.

“really? i guess since you didn’t have a daughter until me it was hard to get it all out.”

“mhmm best when daughters do it for their dad’s,” he grins. sick mind swimming with lewder fantasies with you. “now let’s get cleaned up.”

johnny was falling deeper and deeper into his twisted desires, his mind swirling most of the day with what he wanted to do with you and to you. he thought you would be harder to crack harder to weasel his way to your trust, but you were much easier.

he’d wake up early cock hard as your mother slept beside him. his dreams full of your tiny virgin cunt he so desperately craved. thoughts of his fat cock shoving into you making you scream. when he first saw you he wanted to take you keep you locked in his house so he could fuck you whenever. this was working even better though.

it was harder though to get your mom to wear down enough to agree to a date. despite her desperation for a young cock and companionship she kept you under lock and key. he didn’t get to meet you officially until after he had proposed. sitting across from you at the table grinning and making you giggle at his silly jokes.

your mother liked how he paid attention to you but still “respected” her discipline. and you were worth it the long waiting game of getting her to crack and get into your family. he even had to wait to fuck her old cunt. their wedding night spent at home since you couldn’t be left alone.

she held a pillow over her face as johnny fucked her, saggy tits flopping, johnny imagined it was you. young and sweet and fertile. fucking his cum into his sweet new daughter filling her up while he took her innocence, but he was stuck with your mom for now. thankfully her libido was low so he didn’t have to struggle through too much sex.

he’d wake up and sneak to the bathroom for an early shower jerking his cock picturing your tiny cunt, now he didn’t have to imagine it he knew what it looked like. he spent his morning thinking about what he could get you to do while your mom was away. you weren’t too hard to convince.

innocent little girl, too sheltered to know normal dads didn’t lick their daughters cunny or help their girl pee. you didn’t know any better you were just happy to have the male attention.

he thought he’d still be grooming you to gain your trust but he was already three steps ahead of his plan. he thought he’d be waiting to make you cum until at least christmas, but he even got you to use your little mouth too. now he was onto his next step using his fingers.

he knew this would be harder but he had a few things in mind and whenever he thought too long about it his cock would fill too fast. luckily he had a sweet girl who was now obsessed with helping her dad like a good daughter would.

“dad, can i ask something?” you say, you’re sitting on your bed while your dad sits on the floor helping put together a new shelf for some new books.

“of course,” he puts his tools aside looking up at you.

“when you lick my cunny, why does it feel so good,” you ask, you’d been wondering for a while but felt too shy.

“that’s cause there’s lots of sensitive nerves all on and in your cunny,” he says, he sits up on his knees crawling over to your bed.

“inside?”

“yeah, you know dad told you you have two holes, a pee hole and one for babies?”

“yeah,” you trail, trying to imagine the inside of your cunny.

“the hole babies come out of has lots of nerves. it feels really good there too,” he puts his hands on your bed rubbing the sheets.

“do you put stuff in it to feel good?”

“mhmm you can, sometimes you use fingers or toys that are for that, and when you want to have a baby you use your dad’s cock,” he confirms, his cock growing now pressing against the mattress.

“that fits in there?” you can’t imagine your dad’s big cock fitting in anything.

“yeah but you have to get all stretched out for that.”

“so when people want babies they use their dad’s cocks?”

“yeah, when you want to have a baby in a long, long time you will need to use dad’s cock inside your cunny so he can put a baby in you,”

“oh wow really? so you’ll help me when i get married and want a baby?” he nods, rubbing his hand over your knee. the idea of you getting married to someone makes him sick. he will have to get rid of your mother so he can keep you and put babies in you.

“of course, that’s what dads are for, put as many babies in your little cunny that you want,” he coos.

“does it hurt a lot when you get cock in your cunny?”

“you have to stretch a lot, but that part feels good too baby. using fingers and rubbing all the nerves inside of you, you’d like it,” he confirms.

“can you stretch me some now? does it feel like when i cum?”

“i can if you want me to,” he smiles softly but his head is reeling. “feels like when you cum especially when dads use their mouth and fingers together.”

“oh i want you to please, will you dad. want your fingers in my cunny,” you beg, scooting closer to him.

“silly girl, you still want to, dad already made your cunny feel good earlier. can you handle it?”

“yes yes i can, please,” you whine, spreading your legs showing your slick cunny to him. he’d convinced you to keep your legs bare along with your top. saying this way when you held your pee too long it wouldn’t be so messy, but really it was so he could stare between your legs.

“okay, baby, tell dad if it feels uncomfortable or hurts,” he says, holding up his pinky for you to take. you nod your head, twisting his finger and pushing your thumb to his. he climbs onto your bed and you scoot back making room for him.

“so pretty, i love how curious you are baby,” he coos, making you smile, face heating up easily.

“just never had anyone i could ask you know,” you pout and he nods his head. he comes closer, his cock bouncing as he crawls to you.

“lay back for dad,” he rubs a hand over your arm as you lean back letting your head hit your pillows looking up at him. he reaches around you grabbing the stuffed bear he got you that you had named daddy after him. “in case it’s too much you can hold me.”

“thanks, dad,” you reach for the bear letting it curl into your arm like you do every night.

“now let dad see,” he uses his large hands to spread your legs. you’ve become familiar with this position spread open for your dad to peek and inspect your cunny.

“mmm, such a pretty cunny.” he grins using his right hand he slides his fingers through the folds making you jump on the mattress.

“been so sticky lately, dad,” you mumble, your cunny had been extra slick lately making your panties stain when you slept. you’d had dreams so often of making your dad cum and you’d wake up sticky.

“i know baby, just part of growing up. can’t believe my big girl is already getting her cunny stretched,” he coos, he pushes your legs farther back stretching your thigh as you try to spread wider for him. johnny had noticed the sticky strings between your lips when you peed for him and he was obsessed claiming he had to clean you to get all the sticky up.

when he tucked you in he would do a nightly cunny inspection taking your sticky panties off seeing the thick layer on the center of them. he’d spread your legs after your mom was in bed using his fingers to open your lips and make sure you were all clean before bed. using his tongue to swipe through your folds before putting your sticky panties back on. he’d pat your cunny, making sure you felt the dampness before kissing your cheek and letting you sleep.

“mmm your little hole is so tiny, baby, such a tight cunny,” he comments. you can’t tell if it’s good or bad but he’s smiling so you think it must be good. his fingers are sliding over you getting coated in your wetness. “gotta make sure you’re all sticky so it feels really good.”

“feels good now, dad,” you whine trying to buck your hips against his fingers but his hand is keeping you pushed into the bed. his muscles flex everytime you move and he looks so handsome and strong.

“you know baby once dad stretches your cunny he will have to every night during inspections okay,” he looks at you and you nod excitement bubbling in you. you love the way your dad sneaks into your room and spreads your cunny to check you before bed. the thought of it being longer makes you giddy.

“i like my cunny inspections dad,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around your teddy.

“yeah, me too baby, dad’s gonna push in now okay? hold my hand,” you nod, lacing your fingers into his. you feel pressure, a soft prodding in a place you didn’t know existed. there isn’t much resistance for johnny, his finger easing into your begging hole.

“oh, dad,” you whine, closing your eyes as his finger pushes into you. hot sticky wetness surrounding his digit as he pushes all the way in.

“feel okay?” he stares at your young cunny palm flush against you as you take his single finger.

“yeah, feels so weird but i like it,” you moan, when he curls his finger in you, grinning at your dramatic reaction.

“yeah, feels good doesn’t it? so many sensitive spots in your cunny,” he coos, he eases his finger in and out of you with ease. he loves the warmth of your tight hole wrapping around him and he can’t help but let his mind wander to what his cock is gonna feel when he shoves it into you one day.

“oh, dad, that,” you moan, arching off the bed as he hits your sweet spot. he can’t help but grin, your reaction so cute and innocent as you grip your dad bear.

“yeah, right here is extra sensitive,” he leans in, watching his finger disappear into you. dribbles of slick spilling down onto your perfect sheets as he pushes in and out. your hand squeezes his every time he hits your sweet spot.

“doing so good, baby, taking dad’s big fingers so well,” he pushes your thigh farther back, mashing your hand against your own skin as he gets lower. he leans in, using his tongue to slide over your swollen clit.

“dadddd,” you whine, squirming in his hands but he just grins into your center. his wrist speeding up slightly as he tastes your messy cunny. the pleasure is overwhelming, sending you deeper into a space between real life and heaven.

“oh feels so good. really good.” you moan out gripping his hand tighter. he suckles your clit slowly as he pumps into you he can feel your fluttering walls as you get closer, but he needs to add more he needs to stretch you open.

“gonna add a finger,” he mumbles into your cunt making you vibrate. your legs shake tummy tightening as you nod your head. he feels giddy your reactions egging him on as he slides his middle finger to your entrance.

“good girl,” he pushes the tip of his finger into you slowly. looking to you for approval, but you’re lost in the feeling of being stretched open for the first time. head back mouth open gasping at the feeling and he thinks like that’s confirmation enough.

“taking dad’s fingers so well,” he praises curling his fingers letting the tips brush into you making your call out to him.

“good, dad, feels so,” you whine, gripping your bear and his hand tighter. he leans in again, flicking over your clit slowly letting you savor his fingers. he pushes them in and out slick, pouring down your hole to your sheets.

your walls flutter with each flick of his tongue and wrist, clenching around his fingers as he fills you up over and over. tiny cunt trying to suck him deeper and deeper, and he knows you’re close you don’t take too long especially with his mouth. the frantic bucking of your little hips and heavy panting tipping him off.

“is coming, dad, coming out,” you whine, spit spilling over your lips as you reach your peak, each one better and better. he flicks his tongue faster, letting his fingers feel each squeeze of your cunt as you cum around them.

“good girl, that’s it,” he coos, curling his fingers over and over in you.

“get all that girl cum out.” he fucks his fingers into you pumping all your stickiness along with his digits. you whine and your eyes start to fill with tears obsessed with the feeling as it washes over you.

“dad, dad,” you call, tugging his hand. he slows knowing he’s being too rough, sending you into overstimulation but he knows your sensitive little cunny isn’t ready for that. he slows before pulling his fingers out strings of slick attached them to your cunny.

“look how pretty baby, got so much of that girl cum out of you,” he grins, holding his fingers up. you whimper watching him suck them into his mouth swirling and tasting your orgasm.

“did so fucking good for dad,” he says, making you hot his use of a bad word twisting your tummy.

“felt so good dad, i like it so much,” you whimper, he lets go of your thigh resting it on the bed. his fingers stay in yours as you peek down and see his heavy cock hard between his legs and your mouth waters.

“you had so much cum even after this morning,” he coos, he climbs up the bed laying beside you letting his sticky fingers pet your teddy.

“dad is your cock tingly?” you stare into his eyes innocently.

“so tingly baby, seeing you all pretty,” he grins, his cock is heavy laying on your hip.

“can i get your boy cum out?” your lewd words make him dizzy.

“you don’t have to, i know you’re tired, little one,” he says softly.

“wanna, i can just use my fingers like dad,” you beg you really wanna touch your dad you love making him feel good.

“if you’re sure,” he rubs a big hand over your face. you nod letting go of his hand to slide it over your tummy to the head of his cock.

“wanna do it for you, dad,” you mewled, slowly tugging his cock in your hands. he was so thick.

“mmm, baby, you’re so sweet,” he coos, beginning to thrust his hips into your fist.

“lemme,” you pull away and he watches your small hand reach between your legs, scooping your slick from your cunt with a sigh. the casualness of your act makes him twitch. the sight of your sticky fingers causes you to giggle when you see them.

“you need to be sticky too,” you giggle, watching your fingers glisten as you move, spreading them and seeing the sticky strings. “here, dad.” you wrap your hand around him using your sticky cum to rub your dad’s cock. he can’t help but groan pushing his head into your neck.

“my smart girl,” he purrs, his breath tickles you making you squirm. you keep your hand sliding up and down his thick shaft trying to wrap around him fully.

“so big, dad,” you comment, watching your hand slide over him.

“yeah, gonna have to stretch your cunny so much before i put any babies in you,” he grins. you bite your lip focusing on his cock letting your thumb slide over the pretty, dark tip.

“gonna be so full,” you babble, entranced by the slick bubbling out of his tip.

“so full, but you’re my good girl, you’ll take dad’s cock so good,” he moaned, bucking his hips into your hand. he reaches around you using his arms to cage you in so he could angle his cock into your fist.

“yeah, baby, just like that, doing so fucking good for dad,” he groans, staring at your small hand as he fucks into your fingers. you hold your teddy in your other hand like it isn’t making johnny crazy. his pretty soft baby was all deluded with pleasuring her dad.

“wanna taste,” you whimper, looking up at him with pleading eyes, his hair falling in his face. he grins down at you and if you were so enthralled with him he’d look like a predator claiming his prey.

“i can arrange that,” he says softly lifting off his one hand he brushes his hair from his face. he leans back pushing himself against the headboard, his cock slapping his stomach before he spreads his legs for you.

“wanna lay on my tummy,” you say crawling over to him, bear still in your hand. you settle between his legs leaning your arm over his leg.

“you’re so tiny, baby,” he says and you wiggle your butt in protest. “mmm, cute.” he pets your face and you lean into his touch soft and safe. reaching up you take his cock in your hand.

“wanna taste your dad cum, please,” you whine, leaning in you let your mouth wrap around his tip. you had been practicing for a bit now taking more and more of his cock each time craving the praise and the taste.

“mmm, you suck dad’s cock so good,” he hisses, holding your cheeks as they fill and empty with his cock. you bob your head taking more and more but making sure to breathe like dad had taught you.

“yeah, taking so much now, getting so brave,” he comments. you love how he talks to you, filling your head with gushy things and your tummy with heat. he always knows how to make the words touch you deep inside.

“fuckkk,” he bites his lip watching your eyes start to drip as you swallow around him taking in all you can your cheeks hollow as you suck. “look at your pretty face.”

you feel your cunny tingle more it never seems to go away for long lately. anytime you see your dad it makes you shiver and crave him. he was just so perfect and he told you lots of daughters got cunny tingles because of their dad.

his pretty moans filling your room as you soak his cock in spit, letting it dribble out of your mouth and down the rest of his shaft using your hands to slip it up and down. he tasted so good filling your mouth like a summer popsicle.

“so close baby, gonna cum for my girl,” he groans, gripping your pillow to keep from fucking into your mouth. you feel an urgent need, bobbing your head faster, swirling your tongue more to make him cum.

“open baby,” he grunts and you pull off strings of spit as you stroke his cock. you open wide letting your tongue lay against the tip as he shoots boy cum in your mouth. you let it fill your mouth your favorite taste on your tongue.

“mmm, so good baby, made dad feel so good,” he moans, watching the pretty white pool on your tongue. he taps your chin and you swallow. he’d trained you so well. you gulp him down greedily savoring the taste before sticking your bare tongue out his thumb hitting your chin.

“atta girl, got all dad’s boy cum,” he praises, making your tummy turn.

“tastes so good, dad, i like it so much,” you admit leaning your head on his big thigh.

“cause you’re my girl,” he coos his hand sliding over your cheek wiping tears from under your eyes. you nod you are his girl.

you feel silly when you wake up in the night with a bad dream startling you awake. someone taking your dad away and never letting him come back. you felt so sad and scared but you were grown up you couldn’t go crying to your mom she would tease you.

you patter down the hall teddy bear in hand pushing your parents bedroom door opened. your mom snoring her face mask over her eyes beside your dad who is sitting up reading glasses on looking at a book. his head tilts to you, concern on his face as he puts his book aside opening his arms to you.

you shuffle over leaning into his touch, his warmth wrapping around you reminding you it was just a dream.

“you okay?” he whispers into your neck. you shake your head. he pulls back eyes searching your face seeing your tears.

“what’s wrong, baby,” he shuffles up his legs sliding off the side of the bed to wrap you closer.

“bad dream,” you sniffle trying to keep quiet.

“aww darling,” you soothes his hands over your making you calm down.

“can you come lay with me,” you ask, not sure of his answer. your mom would say you were too old for that and call you silly.

“of course,” he says, standing up as he puts his glasses on the bedside table, clicking the lamp off before turning to you.

“let’s get you to bed,” he says calmly, his hand on your back leading you down the hall back to your room. he helps you get tucked in making sure you have all the things you need before he slides under the sheets, hot body pressing to you.

“wanna talk about it?” he asks, petting softly at your messy hair.

“just,” you pause, trying not to blubber. “mean people took you away from me and i was all alone.”

“oh baby no,” he sighs, wrapping his arms around you pulling you to him. “no one will ever take dad from you.”

“felt so real,” you whimper, trying to keep your eyes from filling with tears.

“i know baby, i know.” he coddles, keeping you close to his bare chest reassuring you. “it’s okay, dad’s always gonna be with you.”

“i love you so much dad,” you say and he leans down kissing your head. “will you kiss me on my mouth to make me feel better?”

“would that help my girl?” he brushes hair from your face as you nod, hoping he will kiss you like he does your mom with tongue and all.

“please,” you plead, still whispering. he smiles at you, his hand cupping your cheek like he does to your mom pulling you to him. his soft lips push against yours, melting you with relief. you put your hand on his shoulder trying to keep him close, but he pulls away.

“dad,” you pout big lips begging for more.

“was that not enough,” he teases you as the moon shines on his cheek bones making him sparkle.

“no, want your tongue. please, want to try it,” you beg trying to squeeze close to him.

“you know you must be a grown up now this is how grownups kiss,” he coos at you.

“i am a grownup silly, i want to kiss dad like grownups,” you try to get him closer but you just settle for a small hand on his cheek like he does to you.

“mmm, okay, dad will kiss you like a grownup but you can’t ew like you do when i kiss your mom,” he grins and you nod eagerly closing your eyes and puffing your lips.

he leans in again. he lips are so soft and warm he tilts your face somehow closer to you, opening his mouth to slide his tongue over your lips. you follow your instincts parting your lips letting his tongue in your mouth. he tastes like cinnamon and you think about the tea he drinks every night. the taste fills your body from tongue to your toes. he’s all over you.

he pulls you closer sliding his leg between yours as his tongue glides against your. it felt like you understood everything, why grownups kiss like this, it all made sense. it felt so special and you felt so close to your dad. you swirl your tongue with his like it was a game his lips pushing against yours. he pulls away but you nibble his lip to bring him back and he groans bringing his mouth back to yours.

you flick your tongue into his mouth craving more cinnamon letting him suck your tongue like he does your clitty. he pulls away catching his breath as he looks at you, chest moving fast.

“not so icky huh?” he grins, you pull him to you, sticking your tongue out to swipe over his mouth and he obliges, opening his lips letting you explore. gripping his shoulder you buck into him rubbing your cunny over his knee as you flip your tongue in his wet mouth.

he sucks your tongue, pulling it into his mouth, sticky sounds filling your room as your rut against him. he uses his hand to slide down your body settling on the curve over your waist, helping you move back and forth against him. you whimper into his mouth, head overloaded with his taste and tongue and the tingles filling your body.

“slow down baby,” he pulls away watching you jerking fast against him.

“feel so good,” you whine, rubbing yourself against him.

“i know but mom’s down the hall, don’t wanna wake her.”

“can you touch me i’ll be so quiet,” you plead, big eyes looking up at him and he can’t say no.

“c’mere,” he says, turning you on your back letting his arm wrap around you. he uses his knee to part your legs before putting his hand over your panty covered cunny.

“gotta be quiet so dad’s gonna keep his hand over your mouth okay?” you nod reaching for his wrist to hold as his palm covers your swollen lips.

“good girl, so sticky from kissing dad,” he coos, his hand hiding the entire bottom half of your face. he slides his fingers over your cunny rubbing your through your panties. soft circles as he feels your swollen clit through the thigh fabric.

“clitty’s all hard baby,” he whispers, using a finger he flicks it over the bud making you arch your back. his hands grip you tightly, keeping you in place as he continues. his fingers circle your swollen nub, your tummy tight and fuzzy.

“being so good for dad,” he presses his lips to your forehead, a thin layer of sweat on your skin. your tummy bubbles with pleasure, his words hitting you right where his fingers touch. your legs start to shake trying to close around his hand.

“keep them open,” he directs and you force them open, letting his leg lock you in place. “good girl.” every word he says hangs in the air heavy and hot and pouring over you drawing you closer. he knows, knows your close reads your body like his favorite book.

“cum for dad, you can do it baby,” he mumbles into your skin, eyes focused on his fingers swirling over your panties. you whimper spit soaking his palm as you jerk in his hold hips rutting into his hand the final heat pouring down your body as you cum toes curling and legs twitching.

“that’s my girl, get all that cum out for dad,” he coos, slowing his fingers but keeping steady pressure as your head lolls in his hold. your panties are soaked and damp against you his digits rub the fabric.

you whine the touch almost too much and he stops keeping his hand resting on your still twitching cunny. he releases your mouth letting you catch your breath and spit coats his hand.

“so quiet for me, such a good girl,” he kisses your forehead and then your cheek. you turn your head letting his lips hit yours again, pushing your spit covered mouth to his chasing his taste again. you pull away licking his cinnamon flavor from your lips.

“thanks for making me feel better, daddy,” you push your head into his neck curling into him.

“getting sleepy, baby?” you nod into his chest spent and satisfied and feeling safe.

“love you, daddy,” you babble, closing your eyes. he can’t help but stare at you, so soft and gentle in his arms like he didn’t just make you cum with your mom down the hall. so sweet and naive.

“love you, little baby,” he soothes his hand over you, tucking you into him. he pulls your covers up and gets you settled, letting you rest in his arms.

he stays up thinking about how far he’s come in his plan. not even the end of summer and he’s so far ahead of schedule. he might even get to take your virginity before christmas if you kept this up.

the summer was coming to an end and johnny had been trying to convince your mom to go on a family vacation. she was very against it, claiming you wouldn’t do well out of the house or out of town. you pouted and whined to johnny saying you would do really well and be very good.

he knew you would and the thought of you in a swimsuit made him throb. thinking of touching your cunny under the water while your mom grumbled about being away from home. sliding the tight material aside so he could push his fingers into your little hole.

“i just think it would be nice, she’s trapped in here all day everyday and it would be good to get away. relax on the beach,” he tells your mom you listen to them from your room. your door is open and so is there’s, as you pretend to sleep.

“she doesn’t need to go out, she's safer at home, and what is so relaxing about sand in every crevice,” your mom groans. she was such a fun sucker.

“but think how nice it will be, sleeping in, the pool, maybe even massages,” you can hear your dad’s voice slowing, trying to convince her. you can’t see him walking to your mom holding her hips squeezing her butt.

“you’re too charming for your own good,” she teases. your mom is right about that. your dad was so charming and sweet.

“i just think it would be so much fun. i’ll watch her so you can go do whatever you want,” he grins at his wife convincing her that he’s in love with her as he rubs the bulge he’s got for her daughter against her.

“that sounds tempting, but i don’t think it would be good for her. i don’t want her thinking she can just leave whenever she pleases.”

“i know, you’re so protective and that’s so sexy, but we can keep her inside the whole time. i’ll watch her while mommy gets some sun and rest,” he coaxes her. he knows he can break her, it's not too hard. she’s desperate and easy and she secretly likes her hot young husband shirtless.

“fine, but only 3 days,” she grumbles, you grin with excitement filling your belly. you wonder what sand feels like on your feet.

“yesss,” he cheers, “mmm you’re such a good wife, i’ll book it for us.” he rubs his hands over her hips before spanking her playfully.

“yeah i don’t want to bother with that.”

“i’ll take care of everything. does she have a swimsuit or beach clothes?”

“i want her fully covered out there. no one needs to see her skimpy body,” you pout again. you wanted a pretty bikini like you saw on tv, maybe you could convince your dad.

“i’ll see if we can find a suit for her,” he pauses and you hear lips smacking. you feel anger wash over your heating your belly with jealousy. you should be kissing him instead. “what about mommy.”

“i have a few,” she says, laughing. “shut the door.”

“she’s asleep, just come here,” he drags her to the bed despite her protests.

“just be quiet,” she mumbles, pushing a pillow over her face like she always does. johnny does the work not bothering to stretch her just pushing his half hard cock into her slit after dousing himself in lube. you could hear the squelching, your dad’s familiar grunting and you felt jealous.

he was probably touching her cunny and she was touching his dad cock like you did. so unfair. you want his fingers and his mouth on your cunny the thought made you tingle.

“ffff,” he groaned, you giggled thinking of him saying fuck with you but not her. he tried his best to enjoy it but she just wasn’t his teen daughter. he didn’t care about getting her off in a sweet way so he just mashes his fingers against your clit hoping she’d cum fast so he could jerk off after. he didn’t want to waist any cum on your mom.

her old cunt bored him. he craved your young tight cunny small and slick from just a word. he imagined you below him spread out, hips stretching to accommodate his large thighs. watching your cunny suck him in a bulge growing in your tummy from his size.

he felt your mom tighten her orgasm approaching so he sped his fingers, letting her cum flatly on his cock. no pretty soft sounds, no arching into his touch, no soft skin, no cunny flutters. he pulled out when she pushed his hand away he jerked his cock groaning pretending to fill the condom while she kept her face covered.

he groaned fakely before acting like he had to catch his breath as he tugged the condom off. he’d save his boy cum for his girl in the morning. he tied the empty condom before going to the bathroom, tossing it in the trash letting his wife roll over lazily. she could clean herself up he frankly didn’t care. he knew she’d be snoring when he went back in there.

he hated her. despised her even. evil woman keeping his princess locked in a suburban castle. he wanted to steal you away. keep you safe with your dad away from her grubby hold.

pt 2 ⇢ practice makes perfect

pt 3 ⇢ nobody baby but you and me

©️tddyhyck

#johnny x reader #johnny suh x reader #johnny suh x you #johnny suh smut #johnny suh scenarios #johnny smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct hard hours #nct 127 hard hours

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thevillainswhore · 10 months ago

Text

Revenge Sweeter Than Honey

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes x MILF!Reader

Word Count: 9.2k

Summary: When Bucky’s professor unfairly grades his college assignment, ruining his perfect GPA, he finds a way to get revenge — And doesn’t his sweet little wife look delicious?

Warnings: Bucky POV, revenge plot, age gap, older!reader, flirting, cheating, kissing, smut, mommy kink, nipple play, oral sex (fem receiving), ass play, spanking, p in v sex, recording of sex, cum play.

Author’s Note: Unbeta’d. Dividers by @saradika. Hi, lovelies! It’s been a while 🤍 This is by far not my best work, but I started it at the beginning of the year and finally finished it and decided to let it go before I convince myself not to post it.

Also, I have little to no knowledge about the education system outside of the UK, since I’m British. So please excuse any facts I may have gotten wrong, this was purely for the smut 😅

The arms of the leather chair Bucky was sitting on creaked, straining under the tense grip of his fingers. Fury coursed through every muscle of his body, boiling his blood until he was sure steam was blowing out of his ears.

He had been sitting in his professor’s office for thirty whole minutes and not once had the man had the decency to look him in the eye and tell him a good enough reason for the C- marked on his most recent assignment. Thinking about it, he wasn’t even sure if his professor had ever made eye contact with him before; certain that he wouldn’t be able to recognise him if he ever looked at him.

Bucky was a straight A student, working towards the perfect GPA to graduate with full honors and claim the job of his dreams. And yet, the second since his professor had licked his finger and slapped the stack of papers — stained with a ring of coffee that wasn’t there when he handed it in — on Bucky’s desk, his whole world had been turned upside down.

He remembered his frenzy, the whirlwind of erratically flicking through each page and trying to find a single comment or suggestion that could help explain the low grade. But there was nothing. Only a forbidden red-inked C- that had taunted him ever since.

Immediately, Bucky had booked an office session, since his professor was strict on the rules of when and where to discuss anything other than current class material. There must have been a mistake he reasoned with himself in the beginning — maybe a mix up with another student or maybe his professor had missed a chunk of his work because surely that godforsaken C- wasn’t right.

However, Bucky soon came to realise in the thirty long minutes of his office session, that it wasn’t a mistake. In fact, it was the most generous grade received of the whole class.

“Sir.” He attempted once again to get through to his professor. “With all due respect, I worked extremely hard on his assignment. Every variable is valid, I ran through each test multiple times to gain an accurate representation. My method has been executed perfectly.” He swallowed the dryness in his throat. “I can’t understand why I’ve been graded so low.”

Dr Parker couldn’t have seemed less interested if he tried, the keys of his computer clicking away aimlessly as his brown eyes were glued to the screen. “For the last time, if you don’t understand what is wrong with your assignment, then I can’t help you.”

Bucky discreetly gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. The logic his professor spewed made absolutely no sense. He took a calming breath before he responded. “I’m not sure I can understand what exactly is wrong with my work if there’s no feedback to go off, Sir.”

Dr Parker sighed, seemingly fed up with the conversation. “It's not for me to serve you on a silver platter. If you want a mentor who gives you a free ride or has to hold your hand through a grade then it seems like college isn’t the place for you, James.”

The material of the chair almost ripped where Bucky’s nails began to furiously dig in. He never wanted a hand to hold or a free ride during his time in college; the bare minimum he expected was to at least have some kind of evaluation or support that offered more than a lousy grade that wasn’t fair.

Out of options, he desperately pleaded with his professor once again. “Sir, all I’m asking for is a reason for my grade being low. My GPA has been perfect all year and this assignment has made it take a huge hit. Please understand.”

Still, Dr Parker continued uselessly typing away without looking at him. “There’s nothing I can do for you, Mr Barnes.”

Bucky’s words came out jumbled as he jumped to offer an alternative. “What about— What if I did something for extra credit! You know? Just for— to boost my GPA back up?”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Bucky was at the end of his tether and his throat began to tighten. “Please, Sir—I need—“

“What you need to do is move on from this assignment and work harder on the next one.” Dr Parker interrupted him coldly as he suddenly stood, packing his papers into his satchel. “My office hours are over and I have somewhere to be, so if you wouldn’t mind shutting the door behind you when you leave that would be great. Goodbye.” With that, his professor walked around the desk and out of the door without a second glance.

Tears sprung to Bucky’s eyes while he sat there, staring mindlessly at the now empty chair behind the desk in front of him. He forced the lump building in his chest down, never having felt so defeated in his life. Throughout his years of education, he had sacrificed, placed everything that wasn’t important on the back burner; holidays, parties, normal friendships, just to put his future career first and for what? For one complete asshole to decide he didn’t care enough about his job or students to fuck him over?

He shot out of his seat and paced over the carpeted floor. All of his dedication to his studies had been pointless — the thought burned through his mind and wounded him. All his life he had worked hard and this is how he had been repaid. The soles of his shoes thudded heavily until he came to a stop, running his hands down his face in despair.

When Bucky opened his eyes, he blinked until his blurred vision became clear, finding himself in front of the floor to ceiling bookcase that panned over the length of the full wall. Sighing at a complete loss on what to do, his eye flitted over the polished ornaments in front of him.

As he trailed over the neatly placed trophies and certificates, a scoff left his mouth — bitter and venomous. Every one of the awarded achievements built his resentment even more. The pretentiousness was aggravating.

He was about to walk away, go for a stroll with some fresh air to try and cool himself down and think properly. But just as he was going to leave, his eagle eye caught a small wooden picture frame shoved to the very back corner of the shelf, hardly noticeable with everything else taking front and center and ultimately hiding it.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder, making sure his professor had really left before stepping forward. His nosiness had gotten the better of him and now his interest was peaked. Careful not to knock over any ornaments, he plucked out the frame and blew off the dust that had accumulated over the picture for god knows how long.

To his surprise, it was a photograph of Dr Parker, many years younger and dressed in a tuxedo. Next to him, a stunning woman with the biggest smile on her face, dressed in an ivory, white dress.

Bucky’s eyes flew wide open while his jaw unhinged in shock.

Dr Parker had a wife?

Now that he thought about it, his professor did wear a gold band around his finger; one that the sun caught during a lecture one time and blinded Bucky enough to choke while he was drinking his coffee.

Studying the photo some more, Bucky only focused on the woman, one with kind eyes, pretty lips and a body to kill for; silhouetted in a gown that complimented her figure amazingly. He was utterly blown away.

The picture was at least ten years old, he summarised. His professor looked way younger than he did now, with frown lines and dark circles underneath his eyes. But he couldn’t get over how beautiful his wife was and how the hell he had managed to snag her with his douchebag personality. His mind ran a million miles per hour.

For all Bucky knew, you could have been just like your husband; just as dull and just as unbearable. It was only rational, because no one in their right mind would willingly be with a man like that.

He stared at you through the glass and tilted his head in thought, until the cogs started to turn. What if? he asked himself. What if he got his comeuppance somehow?

As soon as the thought presented itself, he batted it away, shaking his head and placing the photo frame back in its place.

But as he stood the frame upon the shelf, his hand stayed with it, unable to let go of the nagging idea that had now taken root in his mind.

What if you were his perfect route for revenge?

Looking out towards the window of the office, the setting sun beamed in. Bucky followed the streams of light that shined through, one landing on another photograph, larger in size of a chocolate haired boy with bright eyes. While he resembled Dr Parker, the boy’s eyes were all yours, kind and filled with light. The kid looked around the same age as himself, in a lab coat that had the same emblem as Bucky’s college.

A plan began to quickly form in his mind, each piece and detail intricately connected together to create the most beautiful retribution. The biggest fuck you to his professor for screwing him over.

Bucky sheathed his hands into his front pockets, running his tongue over his teeth with the most evil grin on his face. Dr Parker was going to get what he rightfully deserved.

Vengeance.

Having met up after their last classes of the day, Bucky followed Peter into his home when he opened the door, the droolworthy aroma of a home cooked meal slinking into his senses and making his stomach grumble.

It was now routine for him to come round to the Parker residence every week on a Friday afternoon. Once you found out your son had a new friend at college, you had extended the invitation to Bucky as Peter had recited. And of course, it would be rude of him to refuse.

The execution of his plan had come together seamlessly, almost too perfectly. It was just his luck that a clumsy Peter Parker happened to bump into Bucky on campus in a rush to his next class, spilling his coffee onto the ground and offering to buy him a new one.

Since then, he had made it his mission to become closer to Peter and soon enough, it was the night of his first dinner with you.

Before that first meeting, he had drilled it into his head that his scheme of revenge was strictly business; to get in and out and call it a day. But that went down the drain when he rounded the corner to the kitchen to introduce himself and he choked on his words when you spun around on your heels.

Bucky still remembered that moment, the first time he laid eyes on you in the cutest sundress, decorated with daisies that hugged your waist sinfully. The way your tits practically spilled out the damn thing stuck with him too.

You were a vision, a sight for sore eyes — the photograph in his professor’s office did not do you justice even with ten years added on. Then, as soon as you bounced over to him and pulled him into a hug that made his dick hard, his initial intentions went out the window. He was a goner and he knew one time wouldn’t be enough of you.

However, when it came down to dinner, Bucky was admittedly nervous. It wasn’t only just meeting you in the flesh and having his expectations blown out of the water that threw him off balance, the inevitable of seeing his professor outside of college worried him. His plan for revenge could have fallen through as soon as he met him. They almost did. If that would have been the case, Bucky wasn’t sure what his next steps would be.

But when he sat down at the dining table, his professor had only just noticed another guest in his home. Bucky remembered the slight sweat of his palms, the dryness of his throat as your husband looked at him over his newspaper and cocked his head; a familiarity brewing between them. Those couple of seconds lasted longer than he cared for. Then, unexpectedly, Dr Parker brushed him off and went straight back to reading his paper — evidently deeming Bucky unrecognisable and only a new friend of his son’s.

That memory still offended him slightly. There wasn’t a hint of recognition, even though he had fucked Bucky’s chances of attaining his dream career.

Snapping out of his memory, Bucky quickly shook his jacket off, taking care to hang it neatly on the coat rack and made a beeline to the kitchen.

“Dude. I know you like my mom’s cooking but damn.” Peter shook his head with laughter but Bucky ignored him in favour of something of much higher importance.

Stepping into the kitchen, he immediately found you balancing on your tiptoes, trying to reach the spice rack on the highest shelf. The skirt of your dress inched up your thighs and he couldn’t help but stare unabashedly at a sneak peak of your white g-string.

Clearing his throat, Bucky held out his arms wide and acted casual with a wide smile. “Where’s my favourite girl?”

His heart jumped as you snapped your head around, grinning wide once you saw who it was. “Bucky!” you cheerfully sang. “Hi, sweetie. I’m so happy you made it.”

You have no idea how happy I am to see you too, he groaned internally. “What do you take me for? Like I would ever miss your cookin’, Mrs Parker,” he teased aloud.

Raising an eyebrow playfully, you cocked your hip and crossed your arms over each other. “What have I told you about that, hm? Call me Honey, sweetheart. All my friends do.”

Bucky held his arms up to placate you. “Forgive me. Your food is too damn good to pass up, Honey.”

You rolled your eyes lightheartedly and turned back around to try and pluck the thyme from the top shelf. “You and that charm, boy. You’re gonna be the death of some poor college girl one day.”

Noticing your struggle, Bucky took the opportunity to come up behind you and reach over your head. His lips perfectly aligned with your ear and so with a sly hand to your waist, he grabbed the jar of herbs and placed them onto the counter in front of you while he whispered, “What if I’m not into college girls?”

Bucky heard the sharp inhale you tried so hard to smother, but it was useless with the proximity between you. It was instinct to then squeeze your hip, listening for your sweet whimper he lived to be the cause of.

The moment lasted only a couple seconds longer until Peter called out for you from the hallway. “Hi, Mom. We’re home if you hadn’t already noticed.”

Breaking away from Bucky sharply, you held a shaky hand to your chest. “H-Hey P, how was your week?”

Small incidents as such repeated themselves every week. You and Bucky would find yourselves — or he would create them — in intimate, dangerous positions that wouldn’t be explainable to your son or your husband should they ever catch you.

Which only made the game all the more exciting for him.

“Mom,” Peter whined while he walked into the kitchen. “Can you please not call me that when I have friends around?”

Bucky held his laughter behind his hand when you passed your son by, pinching his cheek and putting on a baby voice. “Oh, but you’re just so cute!”

However, that smile was soon wiped away from his face when the front door opened, immediately slamming shut with a loud bang. “I’m home, Honey,” your husband yelled.

Your name on another man’s lips left a sour taste in Bucky’s mouth. He had come to learn that your nickname was born from your old college roommate who had affectionately bestowed it upon you after your love of baking dessert treats.

The story was adorable, one he had soaked in with all the details you offered him. But your husband and his boring, monotonous tone turned even the sweetest name into something unpleasant.

With his keen eye, Bucky had spotted the fake smile you plastered on your face to greet your husband, even when he walked straight past you without a hug or a kiss and into his usual chair at the dining table.

“Glad your home safe, love,” you quickly offered him a half assed hello and headed back towards the kitchen to grab the meat out of the oven.

“Hey.” Bucky shot forward before you could grab the handle and slid the oven mitts laying on the counter onto his hands. “I got this, don’t worry about it.”

You paused to look at him like he had grown another head. “Bucky, I've done this a million times. I’m perfectly capable.”

“I know you are, beautiful.” He didn’t miss the way your lips parted from his compliment, reserved for your moments alone. “Doesn’t mean you should have to. Lemme do it, please.”

It didn’t take much for you to relent, already flustered enough to give in to him. Stepping aside, you made room for Bucky to take the dish out of the oven and place it on the worktop.

“Smells fuckin’ delicious, Honey.” You gently swatted his arm for his colourful language, but he couldn’t help test the waters as he stared directly into your eyes. “Hopefully tastes as good as she looks.”

What he didn’t expect was for you to retort back with a quick wit. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She’s as juicy as they get.”

These interactions were just considered harmless flirting to you. Bucky knew you had no idea that he went home and fucked his fist, replaying these exact moments in his head. He licked his lips with a groan. “I bet she is.”

“Where the hell is this damn food, woman? I’m eating away here!” your husband barked from the dining table.

Bucky gritted his teeth while he watched you bow your head in embarrassment. “Just plating up now. It won’t be much longer, dear!”

Turning back to Bucky, you smiled apologetically. “Sorry about that, he gets a little grumpy when he’s hungry.”

He couldn’t believe you were apologising for that son of a bitch, though this was a regular occurrence by now; excusing your husband’s wrongdoings even if you were ashamed of it.

Placing his hand over yours, Bucky told you firmly, “Don’t think for one second that you have to apologise to me, Honey.” The next words he grumbled under his breath. “Especially never on behalf of that fucker.”

Your free hand smoothed over the skirt of your dress, a nervous habit of yours when you were upset.

Bucky recognised your unease and took initiative to derail the conversation. “What do you need me to take?” he asked while rolling the sleeves of his shirt up.

You looked at him then, quick to protest and shake your head. “No, sweetheart. You’ve done enough, honestly. Go sit down and—”

“Honey.” Bucky held your hand, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll help you. I’m all yours.”

Sighing defeatedly, you nodded your head to the foil covered dishes on top of the counter. “The vegetables and mashed potatoes could do with taking to the table.”

Bucky grinned wide, all teeth and brought your hand up to place a kiss to the back of it. “Good girl.”

A shudder ran down your spine that he didn’t miss, the hitch of your breath that blew the front strands of his hair giving you away. With a wink, he backed away to grab the dishes, piling them in his arms, along with a couple extra to take to the dining table.

Soon enough, a full roast dinner was set out, steaming hot and ready to be eaten.

Peter was already sitting on the chair by his Dad’s side, speaking animatedly about his recent discoveries on his science assignment for class. You always sat opposite your husband, which meant the only free seat that Bucky could take was opposite Peter and next to you.

Not that he was complaining.

He steadily pulled the chair out and sat down. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence that he brushed against you, not when he shuffled his chair as close as possible to you without raising suspicion. “Everything looks incredible,” he whispered as he leaned into you.

The grip you had on your cutlery faltered. Bucky reveled in your bashfulness, always competing with himself to see how much he could make you squirm. So he smirked when you gulped, peeking at him from the corner of your eye. “T-Thank you, Bucky.”

Your son‘s voice brought you out of your flustered state “—So I was right, Dad! My results actually confirmed my hypothesis.”

You cleared your throat and chimed in cheerfully when your husband only answered with an uninterested hum. “That’s amazing news, P!” With a stern tone, you addressed your husband this time. “Aren’t you proud of him, love?”

But instead of congratulating him, your husband turned the page of his newspaper while shoveling food into his mouth. “Mhm. He did good, I guess.”

Luckily, Peter didn’t notice or bat an eye to his father. Bucky had witnessed over the few weeks he had been invited over for dinner that your son had enough support from you alone to keep his spirits uplifted.

You decided not to bite and move on with the conversation, mouth open about to speak when your husband suddenly laid his newspaper down and spoke over you. “You know, I’ve had the worst week at work.”

Frustrated, your fingers clenched tightly around your knife. “Oh yeah?”

Dr Parker blew out an irritating sigh. “The students this week—god—I had a flock of them at my door, complaining about their grades being too low.”

Bucky felt the blood in his veins begin to boil. Normally he would tune out the grating voice of your husband, but he couldn’t help but listen to something that directly involved him — unknowingly to his professor.

“I mean, I can’t help that their work isn’t up to par. What do they want me to do? Mollycoddle them?” he scoffed. “If they come crying to me for help all the time then they may as well cut their losses and drop out. They’re only wasting their own money.”

The loud clink of your cutlery dropping against the plate cut through the tense atmosphere. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dad,” Peter cringed, obviously uncomfortable. “You can’t say that.”

“I’m not saying anything that’s not true.” Dr Parker shrugged.

“It is your job to guide your students—who are paying thousands for their education by the way—and give them feedback to help them improve,” you shot back, heatedly.

Bucky’s chest puffed out in pride. Though he couldn’t outwardly say anything, he was proud of you for inadvertently defending him — even if you didn’t know it.

Your husband’s tone turned biting towards you, however. “I’m not their babysitter, Honey.”

But you stood your ground. “No you’re not. You’re their teacher and they look to you for guidance. It's the bare minimum your job requires.”

A weighted silence fell over the dinner table while you and your husband glared at each other until the chime of a text cut through the awkwardness.

Dr Parker retrieved his phone from his pocket and read his message. After a couple of seconds, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and threw it onto his plate. “I’ve got to go back into the office. Emergency.”

“What?” you asked in disbelief. “But you’ve only just come home.”

“Well, unlike some, I can’t just slack off at home all day.”

Bucky watched out of the corner of his eye as your mouth dropped open in shock at your husband’s barely hidden jab. Unrestrained anger filled his veins as he had to hold back. Though the urge to fly over the table at Dr Parker was hanging on by a thread.

Is this what life was like at home for you? A husband who so obviously didn’t care for you while you made his life as comfortable as possible. And Peter, a son who held his tongue while he stiffly carried on eating his dinner and not defending his own mother?

Bucky looked to you as you quickly regathered yourself, blinking away the tears building over your waterline and pretending like you weren’t hurt.

Your husband passed over his harmful statement as nonchalantly as he said it while lifting out of his seat. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be home late.”

And just as rudely as he came home, he walked out, the slam of the door reverberating through the house.

It wasn’t a minute after that when Peter also received a text. After reading the message, his eyes lit up with excitement. Bucky knew well enough what that face meant — Peter was getting lucky. “Hey mom, is it okay if I go out? Hang with my friends for the night?”

The dinner you laboured over had already gone out the window once your husband had ruined it. Of course it didn’t bother you as much that your son wanted to leave too. “Of course, sweetie.” You stood up and collected the half empty plates from the table robotically. “Just be careful and let me know when you’re there.”

With a dejected sigh that only Bucky noticed, you gathered the rest of the cutlery and took them to the kitchen, beginning to fill the sink to wash up.

Peter waited until you were out of ear shot to whisper, “Dude, MJ asked me to come round tonight. I think she finally wants it!” Bucky held back a cringe. “You think it’s cool if I shoot off? You can make your own way home, right?”

Bucky couldn’t have given a single fuck where Peter went or what he did right now. All he cared about, as he shot discreet glances of you in the kitchen washing the plates, was your wellbeing. “Sure, Parker. I can figure it out.”

“Awesome!” Peter laughed before whipping out of his seat and running towards the door. “Catch you Monday, pal!”

The house grew silent apart from the departing slam of the door, this time by your son. As soon as Peter was gone, Bucky instantly left his seat to join you.

He leaned his shoulder against the archway of the kitchen. “You okay, Honey?”

Looking towards him in surprise, your eyes held onto a last tendril of hope that someone hadn’t let you be alone. “Sweetheart, I thought you would have left with P.”

Bucky shook his head with a fond smile, the curls at the top of his head bouncing with the movement. “Of course not. I’ve got nothing better to do with my Friday night than spend time with a gorgeous woman.”

He caught the tightening of your lips, as though you were holding back your flustered smile. “Oh, stop that. You flatter me.”

“I can’t help it. You make a man go weak. What can I say?”

“Are you flirting with me?” you laughed incredulously.

“And what if I was?” Bucky noticed the way your eyes latched onto the sight of his shirt, tightening over his arms as he crossed them over each other. “Would you like it?”

Your eyes flicked up to his, holding his intense gaze for a few seconds before you huffed a breath and began cleaning the dishes again. “You’re cute, Bucky.”

Bucky licked his lips and ravaged your form silhouetted in your fitted dress. “Wouldn’t exactly be the word I would use, but I’ll take it from you.”

A rare giggle, only let out in his presence, escaped you. “Scram would you? You don’t want to be spending your Friday night with your friend’s mom, sweetie.”

Testing the waters, Bucky let slip exactly what was on his mind. “Actually, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

Your hand stilled, chest rising and falling at a faster pace than before. “Oh, if only I was twenty years younger,” you chuckled quietly to yourself, not expecting for Bucky to overhear.

Jackpot, he smirked to himself.

Walking to the kitchen island, Bucky leaned his elbow on the counter beside you. “What would you do, Mrs Parker?”

You jumped with a yelp, visibly surprised to have received a response so close; eyes blown wide as they flitted over Bucky’s face in panic. “E-Excuse me?”

Bucky closed the distance between you even further. He leaned over the sink to turn the running water off. “I said,” he whispered huskily, keeping consistent eye contact with you. “What would you do if you were twenty years younger?”

“I—I um,” your breathing started to become heavy while Bucky stared shamelessly at you. “It’s just an expression, sweetie,” you laughed, shaking your head to try and brush the comment off. “I d-didn’t mean it like that—“

“No?” He watched carefully as your eyes darted around, trying so hard not to look at him. “How did you mean it then?”

The spotlight Bucky was intentionally putting on you made you falter, even more so when he tucked your hair behind your ear and let his hand linger over your collarbone.

“C’mon, tell me. I don’t bite.” A sadistic smirk adorned his face while you stared at his lips. “Unless you want me to, of course.”

“I s-swear, Bucky.” Your voice was breathless with the heat of his stare. “There was nothing behind it, I—”

“I don’t believe you.” Bucky backed you against the sink, trapping you with his arms on each side of your waist. “I think,” he rasped, teasingly trailing his fingers up the bare skin of your arms. “That you would let me bend you over this counter right here and fuck you senseless.”

The wind was audibly knocked from your lungs as you gasped. Words failed you, stuttering over yourself which was most amusing to Bucky.

Nonetheless, your eyes still followed him with a glaze, hooked onto every word that left his lips. “I think you’d let me take you from behind. Stuff your pretty pussy full with my fat cock.” He grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his trousers. “You feel that, huh? How good it would feel to take all a’me, pretty mama?”

Bucky watched as your eyes fluttered and you bit your lip — the last of your reserve hanging by a thread. One more deadly blow to your empty head and you would be putty in his hands.

Any remaining distance between you disappeared as he placed wet kisses from the pulse of your neck up to the corner of your mouth. “I think—” he whispered against your lips, his next words uttered in his most seductive voice. “I think you’d let me do it. Right. Fuckin’. Now.”

You placed your hands over the shirt on his chest to push him away; a mistake he imagined as you alternatively began bundling the material up with clenched fists. “Bucky—“ you painfully uttered with your eyes squeezed shut. You shook your head, as though that would help you. “This—this isn’t right. You’re my son’s friend and I n-need you to leave—“

“Look at me.” Bucky slid his hands over your neck, holding your jaw with his thumbs to tilt your head up. Slowly, your eyes squinted open and he saw the confliction clear as day in your glossy eyes, the battle you were facing in your mind. “You’re practically melting in my hands, Honey. You just gotta give in. We’ve been playin’ this game for far too long now, don’t you think?”

There was no escaping his blue eyes when you tried to look away once again and he firmly guided your gaze back to him. “None of that, now. Do as I say.”

Your expression was tortured — torn between right and wrong, pleasure and sin. Bucky knew you were good, a dutiful housewife and loyal to a fault to a man who didn’t deserve it.

Where had that gotten you? Whilst the revenge plan was hot on his mind — the very reason he had meticulously planned everything up to this exact moment — he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth that he was getting something extra out of this. You.

“We shouldn’t do this,” you pleaded painfully, still with a wild spark in your eye. “We can’t do this.”

“You know what I’m not hearing, Honey?” Bucky asked. “I’m not hearing that you don’t want to do it.”

You shook your head frantically with wide eyes until he tightened his grip on your cheeks. “I’m gonna give you one chance to answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks until your lips puckered. “You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Desire rolled through your eyes as your thighs clenched together. Though you still tried to deny your need for him. “Bucky—”

“Ah, ah. I want an answer.”

Bucky watched as your throat bobbed. Your nostrils flared with your harsh breaths and your breasts heaved up and down with exerted force. Seconds went by, the two of you staring at each other before you finally answered. “Yes.”

The two of you burst into the master bedroom — the one you shared with your husband, kissing erratically while your hands fumbled through Bucky’s hair.

He moaned deeply, pushing you against the wall, and turning feral over the feel of you as he kneaded your body. “You’re so fuckin’ hot,” he hummed against your lips.

Your head thumped back against the wall, chest heaving while you tried to catch your breath. All of Bucky’s attention was drawn to your chest. “Has anyone ever told you you’ve got the most perfect tits?”

Choking on your spit, you stumbled over your words, so adorably oblivious to your own attraction. “I—I didn’t realise—um, t—thank you—”

Bucky laughed, shaking his head before quickly ripping down your dress to your waist with force. Your upper body was bare, free for him to roam his rabid eyes over your naked tits.

“Bucky!” Your squeal of shock was followed by you hastily trying to cover your chest with your hands.

But a scowling Bucky immediately ripped them away; offended you would dare try to keep them from him. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ cover yourself up, Honey.”

He could tell it was intense for you, to be so thoroughly desired and the thought that you had never received this much attention before made him angry once again.

“It’s been a while,” you mumbled. The mousy confession only heightened Bucky’s fury towards your pathetic husband.

Delicately, he kissed you and began to trail his lips down the slope of your neck. “Ain’t gotta worry about that. I’ll take care of you.”

Slowly descending, Bucky laved his tongue over your peaked nipple, sucking it into his mouth and letting it go with a pop. Your breast bounced with the motion and he squeezed his dick over his trousers with a groan. “Look at you, Honey. You’re a fuckin’ goddess.”

Bucky’s tunnel vision made whatever you said next pointless. Grabbing your tits, he buried his head in between them, relishing in your softness. He peppered his kisses across to your other nipple and swirled his tongue around the peak.

Your legs crumbled, the sensation overwhelming for you. The thought that Bucky could get you off by just playing with your tits made his cock even harder. But he had so much more in store for you.

“Why don’t you take off your dress, baby?” he murmured into your skin. “Want you to kneel on the bed for me, alright?”

You nodded shakily. Bucky hovered over your breasts a couple of seconds more, savouring the feel of you before stepping backwards to give you space to move.

With a deep breath, you walked on unsteady legs towards your bed, letting your dress shimmy down your body on your way. Your back was turned to Bucky and he salaciously eyed your figure, each and every curve of your body. He internally created a map of your stretch marks and imperfections that only made him more crazed for you.

The mattress sank down while you knelt onto it carefully. Bucky watched the arch of your back intently, the flesh of your ass rounding out from your position.

Forget the damn reason he plotted this very moment, he was just excited to finally get a taste of you.

Your quiet murmur sounded over Bucky’s thoughts. “I’m ready.”

Biting his lip, he strolled forward until he came to a stop behind you. Still fully clothed, Bucky desperately singed the picture in front of him into his mind. He held so much power in that moment, and it felt like a dream that he had you bent over solely for him.

Bucky leaned over your form, beginning to place delicate kisses down your back. He basked in the goosebumps that arose on your skin. “How the fuck are you real?” he murmured to himself.

With a shaky sigh, you whispered, “I still don’t know about this.”

Chuckling, Bucky finally dropped down to his knees, ignoring your reluctance to eye the flimsy piece of material covering your pussy. Hooking a finger inside your underwear, he peeled it away and held it to the side. “Oh, fuck me.”

You squirmed in place as the cold air hit you in your most vulnerable state. Your raw scent clogged Bucky’s nose and his eyes rolled to the back of his head in bliss. “Can’t fuckin’ wait any longer, Honey. Gotta know how you taste.”

Surging forward, Bucky buried himself between your thighs. You screamed in retaliation to the feel of his tongue snaking its way through your folds and he was sure he hadn’t heard a better sound.

He explored every inch of your cunt, unwilling to leave the heaven you so graciously granted him. But it was the sensation of Bucky’s tongue beginning to ease its way inside your hole that made you vocal once again.

“My husband—“ you called out, obvious to Bucky that you were trying to clear your conscience of guilt. But he knew you couldn’t care less about him — you didn’t even mention the fucker once while you were too busy feeling sorry for your son in the kitchen and making silly excuses to not let him have his way with you.

Landing a harsh smack to the top of your thigh, Bucky savored your squeal of shock. “Don’t act like you give a fuck about him now, Honey. Who’s the one eating your pussy this good, hm?” He ran two fingers down the middle of your folds, biting his lip at the wetness coating them. When your only answer was a moan muffled by your pillow, he spanked you again in the same place with more force. “Answer me.”

“You, Bucky!” you instantly shouted out. “You’re the one eating my pussy so good!”

“There we go. That wasn’t so hard was it?” He eased over the marks beginning to bloom on your skin and smiled to himself. “Call me James, though. I like it better.”

Without letting you reply, Bucky dived back in, fucking your pussy with his tongue. You reached back to hold your asscheeks open with each hand, desperate to have him go deeper into your hole. The glint from the diamond of your wedding ring caught his attention and he smirked into your cunt; the reminder that you were married only fuelled his arousal even more.

“Fuck, baby,” he spoke into your cunt. “You really are sweet, ain’t ya? Taste fuckin’ incredible.”

The filthy sounds of slurps and moans filled the room. Bucky was a starved beast, held back and pushed to the edge for too long and every little bit of anger and resentment that had built in his body from your husband’s treatment was taken out on you.

It only boosted his ego when you grinded your cunt back against him too. His cock jumped with excitement with how fucking dirty you truly were. You had been locked up too, he remembered. Stuck holding back your true self for a shitty excuse of a man.

Bucky grunted deeply before licking a wide stripe from your clit, slowly running through your pussy lips and reaching higher towards the puckered hole that twitched with anticipation.

“Oh!” you exclaimed aloud in surprise. Bucky thought he may have gone too far, then. But once you relaxed and backed yourself into his tongue, he smiled wickedly.

“You like that, filthy girl?” he laughed, darkly. “Should’ve known you’d be a little freak.”

Bucky circled the tip of his tongue teasingly around your asshole, moaning at your eagerness when you tried to reach further back with your hands and drag him closer.

“Don’t tease,” you gasped, out of breath. “Please, I want more. Gimmie more.”

Almost immediately, Bucky complied, ripping your hands away with vigor to replace them with his. He spreaded your asscheeks wide and lapped at your tight hole.

“Fuck yes—oh my god, James—yes!”

The depravity was obscene and disgusting and Bucky absolutely loved it. Never had he been more turned on and he decided then and there that this wasn’t going to be a one and done deal. He wanted you to be his.

A string of saliva connected Bucky’s mouth to your ass as he reluctantly backed away. The slick that had poured out of you smothered his chin and cheeks and Bucky happily licked his lips with a groan. “Baby, as much as I wanna keep eating your ass, I need to feel your pretty little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You whimpered while your pussy clenched with a need to be filled. Bucky watched your cute little hole flutter. “Put it in me,” you slurred. “Need your cock.”

He wasted no time unfastening his jeans to pull them down enough until his dick bobbed out of its confines. Bucky caught you peeking your head around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock, but he spanked your ass and bit his lip with amusement at your scream. “Not yet, baby. You’ll get a chance to see it when I fuck your throat later.”

You squirmed impatiently, needy moans escaping you and Bucky couldn’t hold back any longer. Grabbing his cock, he began to push the fat head of his length inside you.

A loud gasp tore from your throat and your pussy instantly tried to suck him in deeper. Your walls, tight and warm, hugged his dick like a vice. “You’re—oh my fucking god—how are you so big?”

The smirk that donned Bucky’s face was lethal. He had you right where he wanted you. And yet his eye rolled back all the same, savouring the flutter of your tight hole around him.

“This is all for you, baby,” he breathily whispered, bullying his way deeper into your pussy. “Get me so fuckin’ hard everytime I see you. Cookin’ in them pretty little dresses. Just wanna lift your skirt up and fuck you wherever I want.”

Your moans both fell into sync as Bucky finally slid his cock all the way to the hilt. You couldn’t stop squirming and it drove him crazy.

“You need to move,” you begged in between pants. “Please, I can’t stay still.”

Bucky licked his teeth with desire blazing through him. “Since you asked so nicely, Honey.”

Without the decency to ease you into it, Bucky instantly set a brutal pace. He looked down, admiring the thick coating of your juices lathering his dick and he willed himself not to blow his load so fast. He tightly closed his eyes, adjusted his stance and began to fuck you.

You were quick to grab ahold of whatever you could, scrambling for purchase within the sheets, but you were useless to try to stop how your head buried into the bed. The force of Bucky’s thrusts were too violent and so you surrendered to what was inevitable, letting yourself drool over the cotton.

“Bu—CKY!” your cry of surprise when he lifted his foot onto the bed, allowing him a better angle to fuck you, was music to his ears.

“What’s’a matter, baby?” Bucky mocked. “Thought you were a big girl, huh? Can’t handle me?”

Your reply was instant. “I can! I can, I promise, I promise!”

“Then shut the fuck up and take it.”

Bucky didn’t know where to look, he was spoilt for choice. To watch your eyes roll back in ecstasy? To concentrate on the shlick shlick of your soaked cunt? Ultimately, his eyes were glued to the jiggle of your ass, his hands soon following as though he was hypnotised. How it so perfectly met his hips without a falt in rhythm.

“Fuck me—this ass is heaven, baby. You been hiding it from me all this time?”

There was no answer this time, at least not a coherent one. Bucky was instead graced with your constant squeaks and groans — a woman too invested in a physical gratification she had so sadly been starved of.

Bucky chuckled. “Ain’t gotta answer, Honey. The sounds comin’ outta that mouth are keeping my dick happy enough.”

He almost forgot the end goal of his proposition in the midst of the delectable feel of your cunt. With a sudden bolt of clarification as he felt a vibration against his leg, Bucky kept one hand on your hip while he reached for his phone in his pocket with the other. Keeping up the pace of his thrusts, you were clueless as he unlocked it and opened the camera app.

“Now, Honey, I want you to really scream my name, okay? Wanna hear how good I’m makin’ you feel. Can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, dumbly. “C-Can do that for you, James.”

He grinned wickedly and threw his head back. “Just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.” Looking back down at you through the phone screen, he hovered his finger over the record button and brought his other hand down hard on your ass. “Go on then, baby. Put on a show for me.”

If Bucky thought you were a fucking treat before, his mind was blown once you began to take the reigns of your own pleasure. Bucky hardly had to move and you still plunged yourself onto his cock with an unmatched enthusiasm to anyone else he had fucked. He could hardly keep his hand that held the phone up from shaking. The combined sounds coming from the both of you were insane.

None of his wet dreams could compare to his reality. “You—shit—you’re killing me, Honey.”

You must not have heard him because you decided to torture him even more by arching your back just that little bit further.

Bucky thought he was a goner, soon to approach his end. But he couldn’t let that happen. He was far from done with you yet.

Propping one foot up onto the bed for better leverage, he gathered his restraint and began to drive forward once more. He felt high.

“That husband of yours ever fuck you like this, huh?” Bucky demanded. “Can he make you leak all over his dick like a fuckin’ slut?”

You violently shook your head from side to side, like the thought of your husband left a sour taste in your mouth you wanted to get rid of. “Nuh-uh,” you whimpered, popping your ass up even more to take as much as you could. “O-Only you.”

“Tell him, baby.” Bucky noticed too late that he had slipped up, too gone off the feel of your cunt wrapped snug around his dick. But you hadn’t seemed to realise his mistake either and the thought that you were too much of a wreck from his cock to comprehend who he was talking about made him even harder. “Let him know who’s balls deep in your tight, slutty pussy.”

“Oh, fuck—please, please—you, James, it’s you. Please, it’s you!”

“Atta girl,” he cooed, hoarsely. “Look at the fuckin’ mess you’re makin’ on me.”

Bucky reached down to where the two of you were connected with his free hand, sweeping the copious amount of your slick gathered in a ring around the bottom of his cock. “Here.” He leant forward, one palm up towards you with his phone still in his other hand out of your view. “Open your mouth, pretty mama.”

You slightly turned your head with your tongue sticking out wide and eagerly sucked the juices off his hand with a long moan.

Managing to get all of it on camera, Bucky watched as you licked between his fingers, not wasting a drop. “Holy fuck,” he grunted deeply. “You’ll really do anything I say, won’t you?”

You bobbed your head up and down, eventually letting his fingers go, clean as a whistle.

“What a fuckin’ filthy whore. You’re perfect for me.”

You backed yourself onto Bucky’s cock, meeting his thrusts perfectly while the meat of your ass clapped against his toned waist. “You’re a needy little thing, ain’t you baby?”

“Anythin’ you want,” you slurred. “Can be whatever you need.”

“Poor mommy hasn’t been treated this good in a long time I can tell.” Bucky gripped your ass harshly with his hand, jiggling the flesh for his own satisfaction. “Women like you, need putting in their place on a daily basis. Need a good fuckin’ to keep them happy.”

“Yes!” you agreed, firmly. “Mommy needs to be fucked like this all the time.”

Unbelievable. Bucky didn’t even have to try to add salt into the wound. He couldn’t help the continuous conspicuous messages that he could easily pass off to you. “This is what happens when you don’t take care of your wife.”

Harsh slaps echoed in your bedroom. The two of you could only share the raw sounds that left your mouths in your haze of the thrill as the string between you pulled tighter and tighter.

“I’m—so—close,” you murmured with all your depleted energy.

Bucky didn’t need the confirmation when he could feel the rapid pulses of your walls that squeezed him. He knew your orgasm was clutching at its straws and he was so close himself. The blood from his head had long since made its way to his dick and his composure was swiftly deflating.

“Want that cum,” he garbled as his mouth hung open. “I’ve been such a good boy, mommy. Give it to me, please.”

You whined loudly, like a dog in heat. But your voices became lost on each other. That didn’t stop Bucky from losing his inhibitions out loud.

Thrust. “I’ve been such,” thrust. “A good,” thrust. “Boy.”

The wound up ball of tension in your lower stomach exploded in a series of screams and violent shivering that overtook your whole nervous system and the very sensation brought Bucky to his defeat.

The muscles in his legs failed him as they turned to jelly. Bucky let out the sluttiest moan he’s ever experienced in his life and all but collapsed onto your sweat slicked body. He could feel his cock shooting a constant stream of cum into your cunt with seemingly no end in sight.

“Fuck,” he whimpered into your ear. Slowly, his conscience came back to life and the flow of his load finally came to a stop.

The two of you laid still, only the heavy panting serving to fill the silence. After a couple of minutes, Bucky kissed your shoulder blade, before lifting himself up. He gathered the strength to gently retrieve his length from your hole that still strangled him.

Bucky was reminded of the phone that was still recording in his hand and he quickly made sure to get the winning money shot of his load dripping out of your pulsing hole while he wholly detached himself from you.

He was only human to push his finger into your cunt, he thought, letting himself gather himself on his own fingers.

Flipping the camera around to himself, Bucky put his coated finger in his mouth, sucking your combined juices and humming and letting it go with a pop. He laughed, out of breath, his red cheeks and mussed hair only adding to the depravity of the video. “Y’know some people should really keep an eye on their wives. You never know what they’re up to in their spare time. Ain’t that right, Honey?”

Bucky knew you were out of it — he watched on while you buried your head in the sheets, rubbing your thighs together as aftershocks made your body twitch. Your needy, high pitched keens bounced off the walls. “Wan’ more of your cock, James—please—need you to fuck me again.”

He licked his lips in delight, the sight of your ass wiggling with his cum leaking out of you and your unprompted addition to the recording filling him with glee.

“Well,” he sighed, turning back to the camera and shrugging with no remorse. “You heard the wife. Duty calls.” With a cocky wink, he ended the recording with a final farewell. “See you in class, Professor.”

Bucky exited his camera app and quickly brought up his emails, scouring through to a saved draft and attaching the video link. After pressing send, he shut off his phone, making sure any future notifications would be silenced before throwing it to the ground with a careless thump.

“Baby,” you whimpered, looking behind you to search for him. “What are you doing? I said I wanna be fucked again.”

Undressing the rest of his clothes, Bucky stalked towards you, kneeling onto the bed and effortlessly flipping you over to kiss you deeply to share your combined tastes. “Don’t worry, mommy,” he breathed into your mouth. “I’ll take care of you now.”

Meanwhile at his college, a new email popped up on Dr Parker’s computer screen, shrouding the dark office with a white glow in the late night. With an exhausted huff, he looked up from grading papers — all of them marked with a C or lower — and squinted his eyes at the bright screen.

New Email from James Buchanan Barnes

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. The name was familiar as he thought back to the day the kid almost cried in his office, complaining about his poorly-graded assignment and his GPA; Dr Parker had gossiped with Professor Stark in his department on his dinner break, recounting the annoying way this particular student had whined like a baby. Though he couldn’t quite remember how James looked, unable to place him among the hundreds of pupils he taught.

Amused curiosity ran through him, wondering what his student had to moan about this time and so with a sadistic smirk, he clicked on the link, waiting until his message came up.

Though that smirk was quickly replaced with a frown when the email finally loaded with an attachment.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold. But I like mine warm, tight and sweet.

Just like Honey.

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