Watching YouTube with a friend and we saw a video called "the devil called me daddy" and he looks over at me and goes "why did you can that man daddy?"
A/N: Lmaoooo the title is misleading xD but! In the context of the first part of this story, it makes sense lol. So there!
Anyway, here’s the second part of Daddy Devil! There was a lot of positive feedback on the first part, so I figured I’d give writing a second part a shot. Hopefully you all like it!
Consider it a belated Valentine’s Day present~ ;p
Words: 7,414
Genre: Smut/Demon!AU
Namjoon finds himself standing at the bottom of the regal staircase, face blank and cock grown hard between his legs. The clock on the walls ticks just past 3AM, and the entire house is silent—Hell, for once, seems to have quieted down.
But the thoughts in Namjoon’s brain are loud. The images from his dream continue to play in his head, and he scowls, fingers curling into fists.
Taut, rosy nipples—skin decorated with bruises and hickies. Thighs quivering, lips and chin slick with drool, ass red—but that smirk. That cocky little smirk that only belongs to one girl he’s had the pleasure of attempting to ruin, and that damn smirk belongs to you. A smart little girl in Jungkook’s territory, daring enough to deem him “daddy” and even more bold as to play games in his presence despite the fact that you had been at his complete mercy.
The way you’d reacted and bantered with him had been branded into his mind, and you’d been terrorizing him even though your physical presence in his life was lacking.
And tonight is not the first night you had entered his dreams and made him like this—cock stiff and weeping, his heart thrumming with the need to dominate and make you submit.
Yet…his dependence somewhat scares him, because he doesn’t need you, so instead he turns his frustration elsewhere—stepping forward and throwing open the double doors leading into the Play Room.
Girls are thrown over the couches and chairs, eyes groggily popping open at the sound of someone entering. They’re wearing nothing but collars or piercings, typically not needing clothes when their services are needed by many of Namjoon’s men throughout the day.
Eyes widening, the girls can hardly believe their eyes when they spot that its Namjoon who has interrupted their sleep, and any rude thoughts that had come to mind fly away. They all scramble to their feet, watching as Namjoon looks them over, their mouths already slack as their gaze drops to the tent in his pants.
“Don’t make me ask,” he simply states, voice gruff from sleep, and undresses himself before sitting down in an arm chair. Obedient as always, the girls immediately surround him, hands roaming his tanned skin and their mouths parting to release quiet moans.
Namjoon closes his eyes as they work, eyebrows furrowed as lips caress his neck and chest, a small hand boldly wrapping around his cock. They tug skillfully, a mouth descending to enclose around the head of his length. The wet warmth comforts him, coaxing his orgasm towards the surface, but even so he still feels unsatisfied.
These girls have no voice—no effect on him. They don’t make him cocky—don’t give him a challenge. They’re here to please and nothing more, there’s no feeling behind their actions, no reaction behind what they feel.
When he opens his eyes he sees a girl knelt before him, mouth engulfing his cock, her eyes locked on his, waiting to receive his approval. But that’s all she cares about, making sure the Devil is happy with her work, and that doesn’t get Namjoon off.
It used to, in the drunk hours of the night, but not now.
Now he only sees the girls face and wishes that she could be you—trying your best to please him earnestly, searching for a reward yet also getting off despite the pain. A spicy, yet innocent demon—one that he wants to get his hands on once again.
“Fuck,” he growls, reaching down and shoving the girl off of him.
“Sir?” she asks in surprise, nervousness overtaking her tone. Standing up, Namjoon quickly steps into his pants, cock still hard against his leg, and looks back at the girls. His eyes are dark.
“You all did fine, go back to sleep.”
With that he exits the room and storms up the stairs. When he reaches his private quarters, Namjoon slams the door shut behind him, feet gluing to the floor a few steps inside the room. His eyes lock on the spot where he’d first saw you—hands bound above your head, body bare and utterly perfect.
Hand sneaking beneath the band of his pants, his palm strokes his cock, breath turning shaky as he recalls his memory of that day. Your ass, your lips—the way your pussy had felt around his cock. The way you’d obeyed him yet had made sure to retain your independence with wit, and the thought of your snarky words alone has a growl building in his throat, wrists twisting and his eyes fluttering shut.
He recalls your slicked thighs and quivering muscles as he’d touched you, and his teeth grind, dick aching under his touch. The temptation of your wet, warm walls enclosing him and taking him so wonderfully is what sends him over the edge, a gravelly curse sneaking past his lips as he cums in his own palm, the white substance accidentally painting the inside of his pants as well.
Eyes reopening, Namjoon stares down at himself, eyes burning maroon as confused anger passes through his skull. He doesn’t remember the last time he got off like this—like a blushing virgin boy, jacking off to fantasies in his head. He’s always had people to service him—to do his bidding, to take care of his needs. And the girls eat him up, truly. A chance to pleasure the Devil—what lower level, horny demon would pass the opportunity up?
But now they’re not enough for him, and it’s frustrating to realize that he wants you. God, you of all people—a random demon he hadn’t even known about until two weeks ago. But…fuck, something about you has him yearning for more…
“Fuck,” he growls, running his unsoiled hand through his hair. Namjoon walks forward and steps out of his pants, discarding his shirt on the bathroom floor as he strides into the white-tiled room, hand reaching out to start the shower.
He wants you but he’s not sure if you want to see him again. After all, he’d taken you under his mercy, even if you had enjoyed it (at least judging by the way your body had reacted).
But why should he care about the way you feel? He’s the Devil, he can have what he wants.
So, attempting to push his worries aside, writing it off as an emotion he shouldn’t need to bother with (even though the question of: do you want him like he wants you? remains), Namjoon steps into the steaming shower and decides that the next time you come to his mind he won’t hold back. He’ll come and find you.
Darkness descends upon Hell, the artificial sun fading away. The sky changes shade as the ball in the sky fades from yellow to dimmed white, craters appearing on its surface—a little feature added to mimic the look of Earth’s moon.
Namjoon has always been interested in Earthlings and the way that their world functions, Jungkook muses, nursing the glass of juice the bar tender had passed him. Well—half juice, the other half is vodka, but he hates to drink it straight. He typically despises being teased by his hyungs as the youngest, yet in this instance he’ll resign to his younger age. Sweet drinks are still his favorite.
Taking a swig of the concoction, Jungkook’s eyes shift sideways, head turning as he survey’s the laden bar. Most of the patrons he knows briefly on a name or face basis. It’s his job as the 3rd level guardian to know those he needs to keep tabs on.
However, mixed into the crowd are unfamiliar faces as well—people who are likely from Hoseok or Jimin’s level. It’s rare that anyone from Jin’s or Taehyung’s levels ever comes up for a visit, and typically the high class demons of Namjoon’s domain stay mingled amongst their own rank. And, of course, people from Yoongi’s dusty basement don’t get out much either, or…ever, really.
Sighing, Jungkook turns on his stool and takes another mouthful of his drink. Slyly, his eyes glance to the corner of the room where you and your friends are sitting, chatting away about one thing or another.
A couple days after Namjoon had deposited you back home, you had bumped into Jungkook, slapping your hand against his chest angrily at the way he had treated you before. Jungkook had laughed, taking your hand into his own and bringing it to his lips, apologizing for his actions. “It was too much fun,” he’d said, which had earned him another smack, and then…an invitation for lunch. To talk.
You had wanted to know about Namjoon—what he would do next, if he would come for you again. Jungkook hadn’t been able to supply you with much of an answer. He had no idea how Namjoon would act from here on. To his knowledge, nothing like this had ever happened before. Sure, Namjoon had found plenty of girls over the ages to take into his bed for one night only, but…this was different. That’s what Jungkook sensed from the situation. And his suspicions had only been confirmed when you had—
“Oh, and do you know what this is??” you had asked him, looking around with slightly flushed cheeks before you’d lifted up your shirt, revealing the small, shattered black circle on your ribs.
In speed unmatched Jungkook had immediately reached over, tugging your shirt back in place, his face so close to yours that you had seen the shock in his eyes.
“That’s the Devil’s mark,” he had said, sounding baffled, his voice quiet as he had fallen back into his seat. “I mean…it’s the guardians mark—we each have one—”
Pushing a bit of energy into his palm, Jungkook made his own circular black mark appear.
“What…is it?” you had asked, and Jungkook had bit his lips, brows furrowing.
“It basically…is claim? Well--,” he quickly made to amend his phrasing. “The guardians use these circles as a way to keep track of the people we especially…want to keep an eye on. The mark allows us to sense any extreme emotions—pain, sadness, happiness…ecstasy…”
Your eyes had widened, arms crossing over your chest, and Jungkook had stared back at you, unsure what to say.
“So it’s basically a leash.”
“No, Y/N,” Jungkook had quickly sighed, leaning forward and placing his hand on the table, palm open. You had only hesitated for a moment before uncrossing your arms, own hand inching forward to rest intertwined with his.
“It’s not a leash. I don’t think He put this on you to make you feel like a puppy in a cage—”
“Then why—?”
“He probably…cares…about you,” Jungkook had said, wincing at his own words. They were strange to say, but Jungkook had been told long ago by his other hyungs that Namjoon was incapable of completely sealing off his emotions.
“He values them too much,” Yoongi had scoffed, a younger version of Jungkook resting on bench beside the elder. “He’s too interested in the way people think and the way they react to situations. Like a cat with 9 lives he can’t give up his curiosity, and that might be his downfall, but--,” Yoongi had shrugged, not seeming too bothered.
“He is what he is.”
“Cares?” you had repeated, sounding baffled, and Jungkook had sighed. “But He just…you know… because you over heard me that one night…isn’t that the only reason he--?”
“I don’t know, Y/N—you’d have to talk to him yourself. I really don’t have all the answers.” Jungkook had told you, and you’d sighed with resignation.
Now here you are a few weeks later, back in the social scene. Jungkook can tell that you’re attempting to get back to your regular routine, likely assuming that Namjoon won’t come for you again, but…Jungkook has his doubts about that.
There’s something about you that even has Jungkook wanting to draw close, and quite honestly Jungkook had debated playing with you once you’d returned from Namjoon, but…after seeing Namjoon’s mark on you Jungkook had quickly stomped on the idea.
Taking his eyes off of you, swiveling back towards the bar to request another drink, Jungkook nearly chokes on the last swig of his liquor when a familiar aura penetrates the barrier surrounding the third level.
Immediately his eyes turn into saucers, head whipping sideways to look at you. He finds you looking down at your body, hand lifting to press against the area on your ribs where Namjoon had left his mark. Both you and your friends look confused, not knowing why you’d reacted like so suddenly. However, clearly you know that something has changed, and you stand from your chair, grabbing your purse. Your friends call after you, wondering why you seem to be in a rush, but you can’t find the words to explain, and you bid them a final farewell before rushing out of the bar.
Jungkook watches you go, tempted to follow and see what happens—but instead he pats his palm on the wooden counter and orders up another round from the bar tender.
For whatever reason Namjoon is here—which Jungkook already knows likely has to do with you—it’s not his business, now is it?
You’re not sure what it is. You’re not sure what suddenly draws you out of your conversation with your friends. But when you regain a fraction of alertness you find yourself looking down at your torso, palm pressed against the side of your ribs. Namjoon’s mark is tingling. It almost feels like…excitement? Intoxication?
Either way, the force draws you out of your chair, and before you know what’s happening you’re outside of the bar, heels clicking against the pavement. It takes half a block for you to realize that you have no idea where you’re going. You don’t even know why you’d suddenly up and left—but your emotions are boggled. And you can’t help it.
Even when you stop in your tracks and take a deep breath, telling yourself to regain control and situate yourself, there’s still something driving you to act differently. And you’re helpless to make it stop.
“Dammit,” you sigh, head hanging. Your legs are itching to move—to keep going. But to where?
To Namjoon, a conscious deep in your mind responds, and you find yourself pressing your palm to his mark yet again.
That feeling…at the bar. He felt…close. Closer. It was almost as if you could sense him, and the feeling alone of him potentially being near had caused you to run—but not away. Towards him. You wanted to see him again. You’ve been wanting to see him ever since you woke up in your own bed the night after your first meeting, sore and bruised, yet sated. Discovering the black mark on your side had thrown you through a loop, quite honestly, but…overall you’d been left wanting move. You wanted to feel him again—to experience all he had to offer. And while over the days your lingering lust for him had diminished, your yearning to see him again hadn’t.
You had questions, you wanted to know more about him. You wanted to know what you meant to him—why he had marked you.
And now, the mark reacting to something, and the possibility of Namjoon being near driving you forward—you’re like a school girl chasing after her crush. You want…you need to see him again.
Gathering yourself, taking another deep breath, you decide to let the invisible force lead the way. Your feet move of their own accord, but you note that your surroundings are familiar—too familiar—and it’s not long before your find yourself stood in front of the building that houses your apartment.
There’s no way, you think in shock, eyes wide. Yet, as you enter the building your hands fumble in your purse for your keys, much less controlled than usual. It takes a great amount of concentration to stick your house key into the lock, but eventually you get it, pushing into your apartment slowly. Weariness has taken over now, and you glance around the room questioningly, making a pit stop right inside the door to set your purse and keys down.
Heels lightly clicking against the floor, you traverse into your apartment, passing through your small kitchen. The entirety of your flat is one open room—your bed in the middle, and the bathroom blocked off to the side. There’s not really a place to hide…so maybe he isn’t here, you think, straightening up. Maybe you’re just imagining things. Maybe your longing had caused you to act rashly like…this…
Then why is your balcony door slightly ajar—you notice, eyes flitting to the incorrectly closed glass panels as one of your curtains flutters in the breeze. You swore you had locked those doors before you had left—
“Took you long enough to notice,” a deep voice muses, heat instantly sparking in your gut as a presence appears behind you. Warmth radiates against your back, two large hands moving to grope you—one on your clothed breast and the other sneaking to rest on an inner part of your hip.
“Well, it’s not often that men choose to sneak into my apartment like this,” is the reply you manage, bottom lip catching between your teeth. Chuckling, Namjoon leans forward, nuzzling his nose against your neck as his hand gives your breast a gentle squeeze. Immediately you allow you head to roll back, knocking against his chest, and you feel his lips grin against your skin.
“Did you miss me that much, baby girl? You’re giving in so easily.”
“I could ask the same to you,” you respond smartly, tongue darting out to wet your smirking lips when his teeth nip your neck in warning. “You’re the one who came to find me, aren’t you? For what reason did you come back, Namjoon?”
The sound of his real name dripping off your tongue so teasingly immediately has a growl building in his throat. He hasn’t been in your presence more than a minute yet his cock is already begging to be encased in your walls. Almost like a primal instinct, he aches to make you submit for him—and that bold attitude of yours only causes to rile him up further.
“I came back--,” he begins, voice dark. His hand on your breast curls up around your neck, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, and he turns you and pins you against the wall. Your eyes widen at the unexpected move, pulse searing against his fingertips, and his grip on your hip locks you in place.
“—because you’re like a goddamn siren whose call haunts my dreams at night,” he grunts, lips descending upon yours. His kisses steal your breath way in second, your body becoming pliant for him as he snakes his tongue into your mouth.
He kisses you until you’re red, lungs heaving for air as soon as he pulls back, and yet, despite your gasping breaths—
Namjoon skillfully flicks open the button and zipper on your tight jeans, hand moving to caress your covered womanhood. His fingers tease along your slit, feeling how wetness as already soaked into your panties.
“You get off on that, huh? You’re already wet. Do you enjoy it when I have all the control?” he ponders, fingers loosening around your neck. His hands grip the collar of your button-up blouse, and with one controlled tug the buttons fly open, Namjoon’s touch ghosting over your skin as he guides the top off of your shoulders. Fabric pools at your feet, and goosebumps raise on your skin, your eyes moving to look at Namjoon.
His fingers slide over your skin, catching your bra straps and moving them so they slide down the curve of your shoulders, falling limp by your arms. Your body is exactly as he remembers it—still just as tempting, even with clothes on. But you won’t be clothed much longer, he muses, head dipping in to nip at your collarbone. As Namjoon sucks the skin between his plush lips, tongue and teeth bidding the area some attention as well, his fingers tease at the clasp of your bra, and your breathing stutters.
“Patience, baby girl,” he teases, tickling your spine with his feather-like touch, and you huff. Lifting your hands, you smack his clothed shoulders.
“You invite yourself into my apartment unannounced and have the audacity to make me wet and then tell me to be patient?” You laugh, only teasing, really, but before you can say anything else Namjoon has pulled back from where he’d been lavishing your chest. He stands at his full height in front of you, eyes sparking red as he grips both your wrists and pins them on the wall high above your head. You gasp in surprise, eyes widening as he leans down and stares at you straight on.
“Who am I?” he asks, tone unwavering.
“You’re…the Devil,” you respond, chest pressing forward as you suck in a large breath. Namjoon hums in approval, inching forward, his eyes flicking down to your parted lips.
“So what makes you think you have the right to speak to me like that?”
“Because you enjoy that I’m a smartass,” you respond immediately, presenting it as fact. Namjoon pauses, and his wandering eyes move back to your face. He says nothing, corneas swirling with yellow as he stares, and you continue.
“That’s what you said the last time we met, and I know you enjoy the fact that I’m not a kiss-ass to you. I imagine as the Devil people are so scared of you that they’ll drop to their knees immediately, but…,” you swallow, noticing how Namjoon’s thumb has started to rub methodically against the skin of your pinned wrist.
“Since you assured me you wouldn’t hurt me, I don’t have to act like that. I don’t have to be completely obedient. Besides,” you bite your lip to try and keep yourself from smiling, but the tactic quickly fails. “I bet you like the defiance.”
“God, I fucking hate how you manage to read me like a book,” he grumbles, eyebrows furrowed in both ponder and frustration. However, at seeing your proud smile Namjoon’s heart flutters, and he reserves a minute to soak in the new position his unbridled dominance had lead him to pin you in.
With your arms stretched high above your head, your bra had shifted slightly, revealing a hint of your pert, rosy nipples, and the sight alone makes Namjoon’s cock strain. Such a little smartass, but right now you look like an angel in disguise—so soft—and he wants nothing more to mark you up and make you moan.
“So tell me, sweetheart,” he muses, casually moving to hold your wrists with one of his large hands, the other rubbing down your back, stopping at the clasp of your bra. He flicks it open with minimal challenge, your bra immediately falling to the floor, and your chest becoming fully revealed to him. You bite your lip as the air of the room brushes over your sensitive breasts, and Namjoon notes your aroused reaction—his leg shifting forward to part your knees and discontinue the rubbing of your thighs.
“What do you want, hmm?”
“Is it about what I want?” you question, gasping when his fingers flick at your nipple. You should know by now that while he doesn’t mind you being a smartass—it will get you punishment.
“I believe we have mutual interests, so yes, it is about what you want,” he responds, rolling your afflicted nipple between his fingers. You try to keep your voice steady as you say your reply, but Namjoon pinching and tugging at the sensitive bud is not helping you.
“I just…I want to cum.”
“Obviously,” he snorts, free hand moving to give your other nipple some much needed attention. You quietly moan at the feeling, and a pleasant hum leaves Namjoon’s throat at the sound.
“Like what we had last time,” you clarify, thighs clenching around his leg. “I like it when you’re rough and dominant, and—”
“Do you want me to take control, Y/N?” he asks seriously, his eyes crimson. You can tell how worked up he is already—how he could wreck you this very moment if he didn’t hold interest in dragging the current exchange out in order to work you up.
“If you give me your submission I will take care of you,” he whispers, lips pressing into the junction of your neck and shoulder. His canines scrap against your skin, causing goosebumps to rise, and you gasp, your chest instinctively pushing towards him. You feel him grin.
“I trust you, so I’ll give you what you want, Namjoon.”
“Good,” he growls, and immediately releases your trapped wrists. Grabbing you by your waist, he turns you and backs you into your mattress. His fingers slip beneath the band of both your pants and panties, and in one fell swoop you’re bare before him.
Of course, you still have the decency to blush—cheeks darkening as you push onto your forearms. Your eyes never leave Namjoon—watching as he sheds his own clothes with a sense of urgency. He shucks off his pants and tugs off his shirt, his eyes slyly shifting to scan your body once he’s fully naked.
The fact that your gaze immediately slides to his cock, pupils widening with your growing arousal, fills him with a sense of pride.
“Come here,” he beckons, hand dipping to rest on your thigh. You listen without hesitation, scooting to the edge of the bed, and your breath catches when Namjoon pushes your thighs far apart—straining the muscles in your legs.
“Don’t let them close,” he threatens, getting down on one knee. His hand curves around your back, forcing you to arch right into his awaiting mouth—and his other hand moves to tease your slit, fingers coasting along your wet folds.
You can’t help but groan as his tongue traces your chest—teeth scraping over your mounds. Namjoon is sure to lavish your skin and mark you with bruises and red blotches to the fullest extent, whines pouring from your lips.
“Shit--!” you gasp when his thumb suddenly digs into your clit, two of his long fingers pressing into you. Namjoon feels your walls hug around his digits, and he nearly groans as he imagines your pussy hugging his cock instead.
“Namjoon,” you moan as he begins finger fucking you—slowly, at first. He makes you whine, eyes shifting up to watch you even as his mouth continues to lavish your chest with attention.
Every brush of his fingers against your walls has your thighs quivering, fingers fisting in the sheets beneath you. He’s the only one that can get you like this—so needy to cum even though you’re sure that the night is only beginning.
“Faster, please,” you beg him, head lolling back. Your eyes flutter shut, Namjoon’s fingers momentarily quickening, however, after a few seconds he thrusts into you and doesn’t move, his fingers curling against your walls.
“Hey,” he speaks, voice dark, and suddenly there’s a smack against your cheek. Immediately your eyes open, head lifting to look down at him, and his hand grips your jaw, causing your lips to pout involuntarily.
“Don’t you dare look away,” he commands, a growl in his tone. His dark eyes leave no room to argue, and he holds your stare as he briefly removes his fingers from your pussy.
“Open,” he commands, bringing his other hand to your face. Loosening his grip on your jaw, you open your mouth, cheek stinging from the moderate slap, yet you can’t deny that the smack hadn’t turned you on.
“Suck,” he speaks again, two of his fingers resting on your tongue—your own juices soaking onto your taste buds—and you comply. Sealing your lips around his fingers, you bob your head back and forth, tongue swirling around his digits.
Namjoon watches you intensely, feeling quite restless—but you’re too enthralling to him. Your responses—the way your body naturally reacts to him. He’s not willing to give all that fun up just yet—even if his primal instincts are telling him to bury his cock balls deep inside of you.
A minute later, satisfied with your work and the spit now coating your lips and chin, as well as his fingers, Namjoon releases your jaw from his grasp and pulls his digits out. Moving down, he returns his slick fingers to your glistening fold, teasing them at your entrance.
“I’m going to fuck you, and I’m not going to hold back,” he tells you, pleased that your attention has been only on him since he had told you to not look away. “However--,” he shoves his fingers into your pussy, and all the muscles in your stomach clench, breath catching and eyelashes fluttering.
“You are not allowed to cum until I give you permission, understand?”
“Yes,” you respond breathlessly, a curse catching in your throat when Namjoon begins. Just as he stated—he doesn’t hold back. His wet, perfect digits, slide against your walls, curling and stretching you in all the right ways. It doesn’t take long—even while he purposefully avoids your clit—for the pleasure in your gut to grow immeasurably.
“Fuck, Namjoon, please can I cum?” you pant, cheeks pink and lips red. There are hickies littered all over your beautiful chest, and the sight of you alone has Namjoon wanting to say yes, but—
“No.” And to make it worse—his fingers don’t stop. In fact, they fuck into your harder, Namjoon’s other hand shifting to rest just above your womanhood, and his thumb extends downward to press directly into your clit
”Fuck--,” you nearly choke, entire body jolting as you curl in on yourself. Your eyes momentarily close as the pleasure overwhelms you, and it doesn’t take more than a second for Namjoon to react, his fingers stopping all movements. Immediately your eyes fly open as you realize your mistake, and you meet his unwavering eyes. Satisfied, he goes right back to his previous pace.
“Do you really think I should let you cum?” he asks, thumb rubbing tantalizing circles against your swollen clit. You nearly sob.
“I told you not to close your eyes and you did. And not only that—look at your legs.”
Shit, you mentally curse, noting how far they’ve closed. They’re nearly hugging Namjoon.
“Please, baby, please,” you cry, walls throbbing against his fingers, and Namjoon licks his lips, jaw steeling. Fuck, he might like you calling him ‘baby’ even better than ‘daddy’. For some reason the intimate term asserts the notion that you’re truly his, and his cock twitches at the idea.
“You’re not convincing enough,” he grumbles, eyes flicking up to look at you, and he nearly loses it at the look of desperation on your face.
“Na—mmmm—joon, I can’t--,” you gasp, throwing your head back, and everything comes crashing forward. Your legs shake, body folding in on itself—and for a moment Namjoon debates removing his hands. He debates not helping you ride your high. You did disobey him, after all, but the soft spot in his heart—and the fact that you look absolutely delectable while orgasming—has him pumping you through your bliss.
As you slowly descend from the waves of pleasure, chest heaving, muscles spasming—you both hear and feel Namjoon wetly pull his fingers out of you, and immediately your heart stops. Regaining your breath, you sheepishly peek up at him, and the look he gives you can be described as nothing short of disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Namjoon, I tried, I did--,” you say quickly. Leaning forward, your cup his cheeks between your palms and kiss him—hoping that doing so will help to amend the situation in some way. Not going to waste a kiss, Namjoon wraps his arms around you—tugging you close—and kisses you back. The softly intimate moment lasts briefly, but Namjoon doesn’t plan to forget that you had been unable to correctly follow his orders.
“Get up, sweetheart,” he growls, yanking on your hair and causing you to gasp. Dragging you up from where you’re sitting on the edge of the mattress, Namjoon forces you to stand. He then releases you, and seats himself where you had been, his legs slightly spread, cock at attention.
“Stomach down,” he commands, patting his thigh, and, swallowing your anxiousness, you climb back onto the bed and sprawl yourself over his lap. He adjusts your position accordingly, his cock pressing against your bare skin.
“How many times do you think is fair, hmm?” he muses, one of his hands rubbing over your ass, and a shiver immediately racks your spine.
“However many you see fit,” you respond, your head dropping.
“I see you’re trying to make up for disobeying earlier, aren’t you?” he chuckles. One hand resting on your ass, the other slides up the curve of your spine and once again tangles in your hair, forcing your head up and subsequently causing your back to arch further. You whine against his hold, but the noise only sounds like music to Namjoon’s ears.
Rubbing his palm against your soft bottom, Namjoon shifts his eyes over to look at you, noticing the way your shoulder blades tense as he lifts his hand.
“Count,” he commands simply, and then propels his hand downward, the sound of the spank echoing through your moon-lit apartment. You gasp at the sting, noting how Namjoon refuses to soothe the ailing skin after the rough contact.
“One,” you count dutifully, biting your lip as you wait for the next hit to come.
Switching cheeks, Namjoon once again lightly rubs the soft skin and then spanks it—the supple flesh jiggling under his palm and quickly turning red after the hit.
“Two,” you count, chest shaking, hips wiggling in Namjoon’s lap. The male hisses, the friction against his cock heavenly—but it’s not time for that yet.
“Stay still,” he warns you, tugging on your locks slightly, and you whimper, but immediately stop moving.
“Good girl,” Namjoon comments, rubbing his hand over the cherry colored skin on your ass. “If you can take 8 more and don’t forget to count I’ll stop the punishment, sweetheart. Ok?”
“Ok,” you agree, breathing deep from your nose. Lifting his hand, Namjoon spanks you again, and even though you hadn’t thought it possible, his hits continue to get harder.
“T-Three,” you barely manage, body shaking at the painful yet arousing feeling. Even though the sting prevails over the pleasure, you can still feel how wet you are—how badly your pussy is once again begging to be filled.
Eyes continuing to watch your reactions closely—a groan building in his throat each time you jump or twitch and cause his cock to rub against your stomach—Namjoon’s knows that even if you hadn’t made it to 10, he would have flipped you over and fucked you right then and there. He’d been holding back for too long.
“Good job, sweetheart,” he praises once the final count has left your lips, ass red and perhaps slightly bruised as well. Soothing his hand over the battered skin, Namjoon then slips his fingers between your legs, a curse leaving his lips at how wet you are.
“Fuck, you’re practically dripping,” he growls, and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your back. Unable to reserve himself for a second longer, Namjoon quickly climbs on top of you, grabbing your legs. Parting your thighs, he strokes his aching shaft a few times as he aligns himself at your entrance, and—like heaven—your pussy swallows his cock, walls hugging him so wonderfully.
“Shit,” he growls, hooking his arms beneath your knees. He pushes upward until the tops of your thighs are nearly flat with your chest, and then wastes no time getting to work.
Snapping his hips forward, Namjoon rocks the bed with the force of his thrusts, and you are helpless to stop the lewd moans that leave you, flooding the room. If you thought he had been rough with you last time—this is something entirely new. Like a beast craving nothing more than bliss, Namjoon smacks his hips against you—cock stretching and filling your pussy beautifully.
Unable to say or do anything against Namjoon’s explosion of dominance, you hang onto the sheets beneath you, eyes barely managing to stay open. While you know Namjoon is searching for his own release, his raw display of power and strength had only served to turn you on as well—and even though you feel like you can cum at any moment, you refuse to close your eyes.
You can’t miss this—not a second of it. You feel a need to drink it all up—the sight of Namjoon’s blond-silver hair messily coming undone, the sight of his torso flexing and jaw clenching. His eyes are screwed shut, brows furrowed, yet he has never looked more desperate—and you refuse to let that sight go to waste—especially when the sight alone causes heat to flare in your gut.
“Fuck, Y/N,” Namjoon curses, his fingers digging into your legs. His head drops forward, lungs heaving and hot breaths breezing over your skin. It’s quite obvious he’s on the edge, his body nearly shaking, and you sob. You’re so, so close.
Reaching your hand up, you tightly grip one of Namjoon’s arms, but before you can beg him to allow you permission to touch your clit, his hand drops your other legs and flies between your bodies. You choke on a cry when his fingers press into your clit, frantically rubbing against the oversensitive bud.
Tossing your head back, you helplessly continue to hold onto the bed sheets for dear life as Namjoon slams his cock into you—wet smacks echoing off your apartment walls. However, it doesn’t take long for the growing pleasure to crumble—both you and Namjoon racing to the finish line.
Curse catching in his throat, Namjoon’s pace stutters, and he thrusts into you one last time before burying himself between your soaking walls, his orgasm hitting home. Luckily, you follow just seconds after, Namjoon’s two fingers dutifully continuing to rub at your clit.
“Shit--,” you moan, eyes fluttering shut, skull bouncing against the mattress. Your walls pulse around Namjoon’s sensitive cock, milking him for everything he’s worth, and the male groans—deep, sated.
Finally, once the aftershock of your orgasms has worn off, Namjoon pulls out and releases his grip on your leg. Moaning tiredly, half glad that it’s over and half wanting to go another round, you roll onto your side and curl up near the pillows. You hear Namjoon chuckle, the mattress shifting as he moves, and your eyes peek open. When you see that he’s moving to leave, you quickly reach out and grab his wrist.
Freezing, Namjoon turns back to look at you. Your face is tired and sated, yet he sees the questioning in your eyes. Where are you going? Why did you come here? And with a quiet sigh he returns to the bed and lays down beside you.
Eye to eye, Namjoon reaches out to pull you closer, your legs entwining, and you can’t help but smile a little. Leaning forward, you stop just an inch from his face and purse your lips, waiting for a kiss. Waiting to see if he’ll actually grant it. It’s a form of intimacy that isn’t based off of sex—like your relationship has been so far—and you’re curious how he’ll react
For a second, the Devil hesitates. What is he doing? Why here? Why with you? He doesn’t need this—he doesn’t need intimacy or owe it to anyone, and yet…when he looks into your gentle eyes and sees that you understand his hesitation, yet still patiently wait for his decision, his heart softens.
Palm moving to lightly caress your cheek, Namjoon meets you in the middle, kissing you sweetly. You can’t help but smile against his lips, feeling strangely satisfied despite knowing that he may leave again. That he may not want to stay—that you may not mean much to him in the end.
“So,” you start off by saying, Namjoon’s regular, dark brown eyes shifting up to meet your stare. “Was this necessary?” you ask, reaching down to poke at the shattered black circle on your ribs.
Mimicking your action, Namjoon reaches his palm down and lightly presses it against the circle. Immediately you feel power thrum through your body—hairs standing on end.
“It’s protection, so yes,” he answers, unbothered.
“Do you want to protect me?” you ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
At that, Namjoon pauses, brows furrowing. He looks back to your face, hand still resting against his mark on your side. He doesn’t seem to know his own reasoning, but thankfully after a few seconds to sort his thoughts out, he comes up with an answer
“Because you’re special to me,” he says honestly, seemingly embarrassed and confused to be saying those words. You smile, eyes creasing in understanding.
“You haven’t dealt with someone like me before, have you?”
“Never,” he answers honestly, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling. “I’m the Devil. I’m not even supposed to have emotions like this. Of course I get horny, of course I get angry and upset and things like that but…you make me feel…more? I don’t want to let you get away. I gave you the mark in case something were to ever happen to you. It’s protection.”
“Jungkook said it was like claim,” you chide, and Namjoon scowls.
“Stop hanging out with that brat.”
“Well someone’s jealous,” you joke, but Namjoon’s face only hardens. You blink in surprise.
“Really?? You’re jealous??”
“No, I--,” he starts to say, sitting up straight, and then stops. He frowns, lips pressing together, and you can see him internally try to once again piece together his thoughts and emotions. So, sighing, you sit up as well and turn to face him. Reaching over, you grab both his hands and hold them with yours, thumbs rubbing over his skin.
“Namjoon, listen,” you tell him seriously, and his eyes shift over to you. You take a deep breath, still baffled that this is all happening. You never in your life imagined you’d be sitting in bed with the Devil at midnight, the smell of sex fresh in the air, and your relationship with him undecided.
“Since we met two weeks ago I haven’t been able to get you off my mind—as stupid as that sounds, but…if you…want…me—and you want what we’ve been doing, then…I’m willing to try and make it work. God, this sounds so crazy--,” you quickly try to backtrack, releasing his hands. Shifting, you try and scoot away, embarrassed that you’d even thought to say such a thing to the Devil, but Namjoon quickly draws you back.
Grabbing you by your waist, he drags you into his lap and curls his body around you, your back flat against his chest and his arms comfortably wrapped around you.
“I’m as baffled by this situation as you are,” he says, resting his head on your shoulder. “And you’re not allowed to tell anyone I’m being this damn soft to you or my reputation will be ruined,” he groans mournfully, causing you to laugh. “But…like I said, you’re special to me, and I want to be able to interact with you freely, so…if that’s what “making it work” encompasses, then…we can…try?”
“We’ll start slow,” you promise him, kissing his cheek. “We’re both a little lost here, considering who you are and who I’m not—,” your phrasing causes him to chuckle, and you smile. “But if you want to try then I’m willing to try too.”
“So just to be clear,” he mumbles, lips pressing against your naked shoulder. “This means that you’re not going to have sex with anyone else but me, right?”
“Right,” you agree, “and I’d hope you’d return the favor.”
“Sweetheart, like I said—you’ve been the only one on my mind for two weeks now,” Namjoon chuckles, kissing one of your fresh hickies. “I’m not going anywhere.”
SM: People only carry me when I’m on the edge of death and usually I’m too unconscious to appreciate it. DD: I carried you during that Loki incident. SM: THAT DOESN’T COUNT
