Dial Tone [M]
Author uhgood-dooghu
Pairing Namjoon x Reader
Summary Namjoon’s been gone for a week. That’s it, that’s the tweet.
Rating 18+
Genre Smut, fluff, my attempt at crack, established relationship
Warnings Explicit sexual content, phone sex, daddy kink you’ve been warned, dom/sub undertones, begging, edging, orgasm control, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, Namjoon’s packing, OC is a bro girl at heart, self gratuitous porn with no plot
Word Count 2.7k
“Daddy...”
Namjoon almost swerves into a passing truck as your breathy voice fills his car.
Swearing, he composes himself, eyes flitting rapidly between the road and his phone, the Bluetooth allowing a string needy moans to ring out from the speakers.
When you’d called earlier, he’d been in the middle of the Meeting of the Year (trademarked by Seokjin), deep in the throes of negotiations but also riding high on the success of the afternoon. He hadn’t seen the notification until he’d finally left the building forty-five minutes late, waving goodbye to his business partner and waiting for his car just outside the lobby. He’d frowned when he’d seen your name. You’d made plans this morning to call him later tonight, so the timestamp concerned him slightly, but he knew well enough that if there was an emergency, you would call at least 7 times. Probably blow up Seokjin’s phone as well.
Sliding into the drivers seat, he’d connected his phone and pulled onto the street, absentmindedly hitting play on your message.
Thank god Seokjin had declined his offer for a ride.
“Holy mother of fuck,” he exclaims, panic clouding his thoughts before he has the sense to throw a hand out and adjust the volume. Does he know what’s happening? No. But he really doesn’t need the bass bumping your moans through the window for the whole world to hear.
Gripping the steering wheel, he swallows thickly, ears tuning in to the words you start to speak.
“Daddy, I need you,” you whine. “Where are you? You said you’d be done by now–“ You break off with a gasp.
When it hits him, the panic subsides, his jaw locking in place as he maneuvers his way through the evening rush. To clarify, you’d made very specific plans to call him tonight.
Apparently you’d gotten impatient.
The way your voice shakes tells him you probably had three fingers buried in your pussy, trying and failing to replicate what his own fingers are capable of. He listens to you take a few grounding breaths.
“I miss you, daddy. You’ve been gone for so long–oh my god–I miss you touching me.”
Namjoon’s eyes harden and he presses harder on the gas. A horn blares to his left, but he ignores it completely, barely seeing the angry driver flip him off, because his pants suddenly feel much tighter than they did five seconds ago.
“I miss your fingers. And your dick. Fuuuck, daddyyy!”
Your moans start to escalate, chasing after that edge, likely trying so hard to curl your fingers against your g-spot while circling your clit frantically with your free hand. His knuckles whiten around the wheel, his exhale dark as your voice turns progressively more manic, more helplessly panicked, until you cry out in desperation, the way you always do when you’re denied.
Your voice cracks and he feels it right in his dick.
“Daddy daddy, please please please, call me back, please please, I wanna come, daddy, I’ve been so good, please please please, call me.”
Your words slur, voice wrecked, and you let out a final sob before the message ends.
Namjoon sits frozen for a moment, mechanically turning his car into the hotel drive, before he inhales sharply and looks down.
Yep, he’s hard as fuck.
“Shit.”
Pulling up to the valet, he fumbles with his belt, tucking his erection into his waistband with a silent prayer that it’ll be enough to save him some embarrassment. It probably won’t (surprise, it’s actually quite difficult to hide a massive dick, who would’ve thought), but he doesn’t have a whole lot of options. At least he wore black pants.
He grabs his phone and steps out of the car only a little awkwardly, passing the man his keys before making a beeline for the glass doors. Thankfully, the lobby is near vacant as he rushes to the elevator, angling himself away from the front desk. Still, the receptionist raises an eyebrow, so he forces a smile, dimples fully on display even as his eyes stare daggers at the dial above the door. Tapping at his phone, he shoots you a text.
Namjoon: Couldn’t wait for tonight, huh? [6:31 PM]
When the doors finally open, he darts inside, choosing his floor and frantically tapping the “close” button.
The elevator moves far too slowly. That’s all he can think as he adjusts his crotch, swearing under his breath. It does nothing to relieve the pressure and he swears again. He really does have big dick problems. He nearly trips when the doors slide open, narrowly missing a wide-eyed housekeeper passing by with a cleaning cart. He is quick to apologize but does not stop as he speeds to his suite, already tugging at the knot of his tie.
Letting himself through the door, he works the top few buttons of his shirt open and glances at his phone. You haven’t responded, which, knowing you, could mean one of two things. Either you let the moment pass...or you’re too fucked out to notice his message.
Quirking a brow, he texts again.
Namjoon: You there baby? [6:34 PM]
This time your response is immediate.
Y/n: Call me [6:34 PM]
With a chuckle, he strips to his boxers and falls to the mattress. Readjusting on the pillows, he presses the phone to his ear, listening to it ring twice before you pick up.
“Daddy…”
“Hi, baby.” He hooks his arm behind his head and licks his lips. “What you up to?”
He smirks when you moan, loud and wanton.
“Having fun?”
You stutter out a yes.
“Mmm, without me?”
He listens in amusement as you keen.
“I’m sorry, daddy, I c-couldn’t help it. I miss you!”
“It’s okay, princess. I miss you, too.”
In the background, he hears a soft drone.
“You got a toy in you, baby?”
“Mhmmm!”
“Yeah? Which one?”
You take a shaky breath. “T-the black one.”
He hums in approval, cock twitching at the image of you lying on the bed, legs spread, the suction cup of your favorite toy pressed to your clit while the other end curves inside you, buzzing against your g-spot. He can picture the way your eyes squeeze shut as you bite and suck on your fingers to keep yourself from touching.
“How long’s it been in, princess?”
“Too long,” you moan, and he tuts in disapproval.
“Not an answer.”
You whimper, voice pitching. “Since I c-called you.”
In the back of his mind, he’s impressed. That was at least an hour. Giving a low whistle, he finally reaches down and briefly palms himself. The relief shoots up his spine as he sighs.
“Dang, baby. Wanna tell daddy what you did while you waited for me?”
The way you groan tells him you’d much rather not, but he waits expectantly. You know what to say if you want to stop. You exhale a few times before managing to speak.
“I u-used my fingers...and I played with my clit. I got myself m-messy for you.” You pause to breathe. “Then g-got close, I was so close, and then I called you.”
You’re starting to heave, voice modulating rhythmically, and Namjoon suspects you are rocking your head back and forth, trying to keep the pleasure at bay. His dick throbs, but he refuses to touch just yet. Not until he hears you be good for him.
“Keep going, baby.”
You huff a whine and press on. “T-then I put my toy in...I let it suck my clit–ah!”
The device clicks off and he swells with pride and satisfaction as you pant heavily in his ear. Your self-control never fails to blow his mind. He doesn’t even have to tell you what to do, you’re so desperate to please. Tugging at his waistband, he pulls the elastic below his balls, finally wrapping his hand around the base of his cock and squeezing.
“You like that, huh? You like your toy sucking your clit?”
“D-daddy sucks it better.” You mewl and click the toy back to life.
He allows himself a smug grin. Sue him, it’s nice to hear. “What then, baby? What did you do next?”
Slowly, he starts raking his fist over his shaft, swirling the palm over the tip, and he bites back a groan, because, shit, he gets so ridiculously hard for you, it’s almost pathetic. Almost.
“I–fuck–I kept it inside me, and I...I p-played with my nipples until I was close–shiiiiit.”
You’re losing coherency by the second, and Namjoon loves it. It sets his nerve-endings on fire. Makes him a little light-headed himself. Still, he murmurs soft praises in your ear, wishing he was there to stroke your hair and kiss your face, your hands, literally every inch of your body. It takes you a minute to continue, the vibe clicking on and off once more.
“I was s-so close, and then I t-turned it up and it felt so good, daddy, it felt so good!” You’re on the verge of tears, and Namjoon smiles fondly, dragging his thumb through the precum beading at his slit.
“I’m sure it did, baby. Were you a good girl?”
“Yes yes yes,” you insist, and he hears the frantic rustle of sheets. “I was good, I didn’t come. I promise.” There’s a slight change in your voice, the toy becoming more muffled, and he can tell you’ve flipped to your stomach. “I promise.” This time you actually sob, and Namjoon shushes you softly.
“It’s okay, baby, I believe you.”
You moan. “Daddy, I wanna come.”
The throb of his dick lets him know he wants you to come, too. He moves his fist just a little faster.
“I know, baby.” Biting his lip, he lets his eyes fall shut. “But I want you to use your fingers first. Take the toy out and get them wet. Taste yourself for me, princess.”
You shift and, a few moments later, audibly swallow.
“Tastes so good...” you moan.
Fuck.
“Yeah? Nice and sweet for me?”
Your affirming whimper is slightly muffled, and Namjoon can see the way you press your face into the mattress, ass up and knees wide, fingers drenched in your own slick and drool as you rock your hips in the air. The image is lethal.
“Yesss daddy, please–“ You choke in the way you do when you force yourself to hold off for him. “Please, I’m so close, I’ve been so close for so long, please.”
God, he doesn’t know why he loves this so much. It’s almost sadistic how much he gets off on hearing you beg, on hearing you so broken and needy and desperate, such a far cry from the confidently composed woman he knows you to be.
In the beginning, he was confused, reluctant even, when you asked him to take control of your pleasure. Even though the idea sent a shiver up his spine, he couldn’t imagine you of all people truly wanting something like that. You, who demands control in every aspect of your life, who refuses to take orders and sends 6’ 5”, built-like-dump-truck CEOs crashing face first into their glass office doors (a story for another time).
He asked you again and again and again if you were sure, hesitant to jump too hastily, no matter how badly his mind and body buzzed at the thought. It took you grabbing his face and shaking him, promising him you wanted this, wanted him to have that final say, for him to finally agree. You had a more detailed conversation after that, discussing boundaries and safe words and all the nuts and bolts he was adamant to set firmly in place.
You haven’t come without permission since.
And now, as you whine and beg for him, completely at his mercy even 1,000 miles away, he revels in the power trip. He feels it swim through his veins and collect in his dick, and yeah, another drop of precum oozes out because that’s how much he fucking loves this.
“Daddy,” you choke, and he can tell you’re quickly reaching a breaking point.
“It’s ok, princess, I’m here.”
Putting you on speaker, he sets his phone on his chest and reaches down to cup his balls. He’s barely touched himself, but they’re already so tight, and he knows he won’t need a whole lot to get there. You do all the work without even trying.
You keen helplessly, and he rolls the flesh in his palm.
“Alright, baby,” he coos. “Put your toy back in. I want you to turn it up high. I wanna hear it, okay?”
The answering buzz has you crying out. Loudly.
Namjoon grins in satisfaction. Resting his head back, he tugs on his dick, finally allowing the warmth to grow and spread throughout his limbs. Your moans spur him on, his pace increasing in time with your desperation, until all he can hear are your sobs of ‘daddy daddy daddy!’
Fuck, he’s close.
“You know what to do, baby,” he growls.
You’re practically wailing, words muffled and unintelligible, and he fleetingly wishes he had FaceTimed you instead.
“Can’t hear you, princess.”
You gasp loudly.
“P-please, daddy, can I come?” You break off in a desperate slur of pleasepleaseplease, and that’s all he needs to snap.
Gritting his teeth, he tightens his fist.
“Come.”
“Fuck, daddy!” You squeal, crying out for him incoherently as you fall apart, the sound slightly distorted from the way your writhing rustles the sheets against the speaker.
“Good girl,” he groans, fist pumping furiously, head falling back as your whimpers send him over the edge. Cum spurts over his hand and stomach in hot streaks. “Such a good girl for me, fuck.”
He works himself through the pleasure, dragging his cum back down his cock, all the while showering you with praise as you gasp helplessly.
“Fuck, baby, you did so well.” With a hiss, he slows his hand to a stop, giving himself one last squeeze before dropping his dick to his stomach. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You hear me?”
You whimper, panting heavily, toy already clicked silent, and he knows you’re just about boneless on the sheets. For a second he lies there, letting the cloud settle, his sticky hand hanging off the bed. Taking a breath, he checks in.
“Can you talk to me, y/n?”
You don’t respond right away. “G-give me a minute,” you eventually whisper, and he relents with a soft ‘okay.’
It takes about five minutes, but he finally hears your breathing level out, a sated sigh crackling though the phone.
“How you feeling, babe?”
“Dead.”
He laughs, grabbing some tissues from the nightstand. “How long were you–“
“Two hours. Two fucking hours, Joon.” He laughs again, wiping the cum from his abs and fingers. “How long does it take to check your messages, goddamn!”
“Sorry, the meeting ran long.”
You hum in mock annoyance, then yawn loudly. “It went well, at least?”
“Mhmm, really well. We closed the deal.”
“Fuck yeah, bro.”
Laughing, Namjoon tosses the tissues in the trash and falls back onto the pillows. “Were you really edging for that long?”
“I mean, I took a couple breaks, but yeah, pretty much.”
He shakes his head, feeling a little guilty. “I’m sorry, baby, you know you didn’t have to–“
“Namjoon. It felt good. Really good.”
“...well, shit.”
You snort, and he lets go of any intrusive thoughts. He trusts that you know what you want, and lord knows he’ll give you anything you ask for. He hears you yawn once more with a smile.
“You should go to sleep.”
“It’s only 7.”
“You’ll be asleep in an hour anyways.”
You shift on the bed with a scoff. “You calling me old?”
“If you want me to.”
“I’ll pass, thanks.”
Namjoon smiles, and starts softly asking about your day, content to just hear your voice and stare aimlessly at the ceiling. Eventually, though, you settle into silence, simply listening to each other breathe. It’s not nearly as good as feeling your warmth beside him, but he’ll live. Still, he’s counting down the hours until his plane lands in a few days and he can kiss you for real. It’s been a long week.
He sighs. “I miss you, y/n.”
“I miss you, too, Joonie. I love you.”
His heart swells and he closes his eyes. He loves you, too. So goddamn much.
© moodievitamine, January 2021. Please do not copy, repost, or translate!
