!! bimbo f!reader; daddy kink; john’s pov // shiu’s version // dividers by @/plutism <33
john loves you so much; he loves spoiling you lots.
you're a sight for sore eyes, round and sweet, but that's not what only gets him going—you're kind to a fault, looking up at him all starry-eyed like he's not a bad man. like he's not broken and angry, and all mangled from within until it has him toying with people's moralities.
you curl in his arms, so giggly and bright, almost like you're unknowing of what he does, of what he's capable of, but you've always known better than anyone else. after all, john trusts no one more than he trusts you.
you are so, so lovely; stoking his desires, filling him up with this miasmic need that burns from within. he aches every time, so desperate to feel you. to touch you. to have one more taste because you've turned john insatiable, his hunger constant, burrowing deep in the yawning of his stomach.
he wants more from you. he will always want more.
.
"daddy?" you call, pattering out of your room with a little pout. john's quick to drop the call, not bothering to say any goodbyes to ghost, and turns all of his attention to you.
he gulps, feeling himself chub up underneath his slacks. you've got your neon green tube top on, the fabric taut as it clings to your skin. there's a little slip of cut by the front of it, and all that's keeping the fabric twined together are the little straps that converge into an 'X', framing your pretty tits in a way that has his throat constricting, his thirst palpable as it rolls off him in waves.
you don't notice of course, eyes turned to the baby blue slip of a dress you're carrying.
"hi, sweet'art," he croaks out, pulling your attention back to him, almost pleading.
you look up, blinking like you've forgotten he was there or that you were even asking for him, before a smile dances on your lips, tugging that kissable pout away.
"john!" you say, giddy, bouncing in your place and it—
jesus, it makes your tits wobble, your tight tube top not really doing anything to hide the fact that you don't got a bra on.
you tryna kill him or somethin', doll?
"c'mere," he grunts, patting at his lap.
you fall on top of him with a squeal, all your tender parts dimpling as you nuzzle close, humming in delight when john brushes his lips on your forehead. he adjusts himself on the seat, arm curling around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.
"so what's got you into a tizzy?" john asks, rubbing his hand atop your belly, his cock chubbing up even more at the softness of your pudge.
"oh," you murmur, breathless, your eyes tracking his caresses. "was jus' wonderin' if i should wear this top or the blue dress, s'all."
"yeah?" john begins peppering kisses along the shell of your ear, huffing when you squeak, body jolting at the ticklish feeling that his stubble makes. "and y'wanted daddy's thoughts, s'that it?"
"mhmm." you sound distant. distracted.
john trembles, just as dizzy with his need. he wonders if he can coax you out of that outing you were planning with your friends. he wonders if he can ask you to stay because there's something else he'd rather do than talk to his mates.
(maybe he'll have you kiss his cock and have you smear that lipgloss all over the leaking slit; or have you sit on his face since it's been a while since he's got a taste, and john is parched.
or maybe he'll have you ride him, give him a view of those pretty tits bouncing, your nipples hard and in need of being sucked on. maybe he'll make a mess out of that top, yeah? lick you through it, watch it go damp and see-through, until the green of your top is muddled with the colour of your areolas.
or maybe he'll breed you, huh darlin'? you'd want that, wouldn't you? have him fulfill his promises—make a mom out of you?)
"well, baby," john begins, his voice gruff as he pulls himself out of his imaginations. he kisses the slope of your neck, and breathes in the smell of your body wash. "i do love that green top better—shows more of y'r girls, doesn't it?"
you giggle, almost a touch shy, before nodding. john's heart swells, the aching need in the pit of his stomach peaking, bloating. he can't help himself—his darling love is warm on top of him, beautiful and soft. a lesser man would've crumbled faster; pawing at your body, hand rough as it fondles your tit—
really, john deserves a goddamn award for how saintly he's acting; holding back like he's not leaking in his boxers.
but he remembers how excited you've been about this night out and jobn would rather fuck his fist than ever be the cause of your disappointment, so he takes a ragged breath in, leashing his desires back in the pit of his stomach, weaving it beneath his blood, and taps your hip to send you off.
you climb out of his lap with a huff before you twirl, bending forward and planting a sloppy kiss on his lip. you leave them sticky, marked by your lipgloss.
"see you later, daddy," you trill, waving, before you run back to the room. john can only grunt, unable to trust his weakened voice.
.
driven by his deprivation, john fishes a lingerie out of your hamper and pockets it. he'll need it for later—the night is young.
1K notes
·
View notes