#dave york x f!reader

[morallyinept]

Trick Or Treat? - A Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York Halloween One Shot 🎃

Summary: It's Halloween and you're settling in for a creepy night alone with a scary movie, when three masked intruders break in. And they have more tricks than treats in mind for you. 🎃

Pairing: Dark!Frankie Morales x Dark!Joel Miller x Dark!Dave York x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It's you, bub.)

Word Count: 10.5k ish - 'Issa long one. Better grab some spooky snacks. 👻

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶🌶🌶 "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here

Explicit: DARK/DDDNE/implied noncon/implied dubcon/CNC/free use/anything goes/implied forced/established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/squirting/anal play/restraint/dirty talk/derogatory/some mild degradation/some mild assault in the form of slaps, scratching, biting/jump scares/mentions of clowns & a clown mask image below the cut - eh, some people hate 'em. Dave York comes with his own warning. 🥴

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don't come at me; you've been plenty warned.

Author's Note: Happy Halloween!! 🎃 I'm fully aware that this might not be for everyone, and that's totally fine. You can just move on quietly if it's not for you. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Couldn't think of any better trio of Pedro Boys to mess with you on Halloween, other than Frankie, Joel & Dave.

Enjoy! 🖤🎃

MASTERLIST

The lounge is dimly lit. 

Shadows curated from the trenches of nightmares claw across the walls as you perch on the edge of your worn-out couch, crowded with the mass invasion of mis-matched cushions. 

The eerie glow from the flat screen casts an otherworldly pallor upon your face, accentuating the nervous flicker around your eyeballs that are wide with bulging scleras; watery white orbs in the dark.

The room is drenched in an unsettling silence, broken only by the haunting soundtrack of the horror movie slashing its way across your screen, from which you can’t tear away your fixed gaze. 

Every creak of the house, every groan in the walls, sends fleeting shivers down your spine as you clutch one of the cushions tightly, pulled further into the chilling world of the movie. 

It's Halloween night and the bowl, brimming full of sugared candy treats for the Witching Hour to begin, is resting languidly on the coffee table ready for the barrage of trick-or-treaters bound to harangue you all night long. Until you stop answering the door and devour them all for yourself. It always happens. 

But, as you watch the movie, engrossed in the suspenseful carnage that is about to erupt, slowly bringing mouthfuls of warm, buttery homemade popcorn up to your mouth, you start to regret it.

You always do this to yourself; cue the manic paranoia afterwards, lying in bed and getting freaked out by strange noises rattling around in the house. Turning the light off and running up the stairs really, really fast so a crazed, masked killer - that is purely a figment of your over active imagination, whose just endured copious hours of jump scares - doesn't get you.

As the movie’s tension mounts, so too does your own. Your heart races in sync with the frantic, heavy beats of the ominous bass that vibrates in through your toes. Fear creeps up your spine with icy tendrils, constricting your chest with each suspenseful twist. 

A young Jamie Lee Curtis is running for her life across the screen; a giant man in a boiler suit and waxy mask wielding a kitchen knife is chasing her, and you're yelling at her to run.

Run bitch!

You're invested wholly in the terror of the movie. Your fingernails leave crescent imprints on the fabric of the cushion you clutch, as if they could anchor you to reality amidst the growing dread that consumes you. 

The room’s shadows deepen, feel heavier somehow in the darkest corners and seem to slink and shift in the periphery of your vision. Your mind plays tricks on you, conjuring grotesque shapes from the inky void to float towards you, but any sense of your own mild panic is marred by the screaming on the screen that pulls your attention away. 

The rest of the house is unusually quiet around you, its existence ebbing away. Oblivious to the malevolent, unseen eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness, you continue to fill your mouth with the salty, puffed kernels.

"Run, why are you standing there, just fucking run!" You crunch to Jamie Lee; your eyes wide and the music hammering around you loudly as the killer is in the house with her, and she hasn't realised it yet.

Oh, the irony.

A figure continues to emerge from the swirly shadows, edging towards you in the dark where the light of the TV hasn't reached. It moves with a haunting grace as if it's part of the very darkness it inhabits. You feel hairs prickle up on the back of your neck as you watch the tension on the screen play out. 

You know how this shit goes down; you've seen this movie millions of times, but it still gets you. Still makes you jump out of your skin at the right parts and-

"BOO!" 

A maniacal laugh pierces your eardrum from behind and you screech in absolute terror.

The bowl of popcorn ends up all over the floor as you launch yourself up from the couch like you’ve been tasered, turning and screaming as you hear that sinister laugh morph into one you begin to recognise.

Big, splayed hands reach for you from within the dark and you squeal louder, backing up as the sinister marauder advances on you.

"Hey it's me, muñeca. It's me!" But he's still laughing and it's not fucking funny.

Your heart is trying to make a dash out of your throat and you swear to God some pee might’ve trickled down your leg.

"What the Hell are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"

You slap his hands away angrily as he reaches for your shaky ones, and the light from the TV assures you it's Frankie, still chuckling to himself from behind a cheap, neon-coloured clown mask.

"Jesus Christ," you sigh, catching your breath. 

You're still trying to choke your thrashing heart back down into your chest. It's not going down without a rowdy fight apparently as you cough and splutter. "Why would you scare me like that?! What are you wearing?" You query with a shudder as he pulls off the grotesque mask. 

It's a sinister, somewhat ugly clown, complete with rainbow coiffed curls, white cracked rubber for a face and peeling red nose. All your explicit, childish nightmares come true to form and are made graphically real - too real. You shiver again as you see it, now crumpled up in his hand.

"You should've seen your face!" He's laughing again and it's hard not to punch him right now. Or drop kick him in the balls.

"I fucking hate clowns." You growl, shoving him in the broad shoulder, as he tries to pull you towards him, but you resist in protest.

"Hey, it's just me." Frankie reassures, pulling you into the stack of his chest and trying to kiss your cheek in attempted fuzzy apologies, but you still repel him. 

"I know," you say, rubbing your arm uneasily and pouting at him. “It’s not funny.”

"Aww, hermosa. Come here, I'm sorry. Voy a parar, lo siento. Lo siento." He pulls you closer into his strong arms wrapping you up tight for a moment, and closing your eyes you're immediately in your safe place; safe in Frankie’s arms where nothing horrific can get you.

You feel your heartbeat regain its usual steady tempo and your body melts into a heated pool of slush as he soothes you, rubbing his large hands up and down your back.

It's hard to stay mad at him when he holds you like this. 

"Aren't you going to be late?" You murmur a few enraptured seconds later into his warm neck skin; your nose nuzzling into the soft, sparse scruff that roots there. You taste it as the oaky scents of his heady cologne makes your mouth water. 

He groans deliciously, stirring a flurry again in your rib cage, as you run your tongue up towards his ear and suck gently on the lobe.

"Mmm," he smiles blissfully, crushing your bones into his. You feel his hands now sliding down further, past the small of your back, and pawing at the pliable meat of your ass. 

You tug hard on his ear with your teeth and he hisses as you clamp down.

"Ow!" He whines. You snicker up at him. 

"Revenge." You titter. 

“Eso duele,” he gripes, pouting. 

"Look at this mess." Your bare feet are crunching into the popcorn that’s all over the floor as if an Arctic blast has just hit. 

"I'll help you clean up." Frankie offers, tossing the clown mask onto the couch. You make a mental note to throw the ghastly thing in the trash once he’s gone. 

"No, you go. The guys are waiting for you." 

"You sure?"

"Yeah." You nod with a soft smile, and watch as Frankie retrieves his favourite blue cap from his back pocket, unfolds and fixes it back into its rightful place on his tufty curls.

"I'll just be a few hours. Beers and some cards..." He smiles with cocoa eyes.

"Take as long as you want. I'll probably be asleep when you get back anyway." You say grimacing down at the mess.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Just gonna finish up the movie then climb into bed early." 

"Hardcore." He teases, pulling you towards him again. 

You kiss him on the lips gently. He wraps his hands around the small of your back and you can feel him. Feel that mounting swell of him against your belly as he stiffens in his stonewash Levi’s. 

The kiss between you intensifies, his tongue slipping slowly into the hungry void of your mouth. A polluting convergence of wanton desire and longing as he murmurs into your wet gums. It sizzles in your bloodstream, warming you from the inside out. 

"Might have to wake you up…" Frankie purrs as you pull away, breathless; your heart thudding, as well as your clit that feels like it’s growing in size and weighing you down.

You grin, clenching internally at the thought of how Frankie specialises in waking you up.

You pull on the lapels of his jacket, twisting the artichoke corduroy, working through the mental images of tossing him on the couch, straddling his face and sending him to the guys with your slick drying in his facial scruff. 

"Go on, get going, you jackass." You warn, bending down to pick up the popcorn bowl. You feel a gentle swat on your butt. 

"Enjoy the movie, baby." He says.

You smile standing upright. "Say hi to Joel and Dave for me." 

Frankie turns back to you, his eyes appearing like black shiny marbles in the dark shadows, and smiles sinisterly at you. 

An hour or so later - the clown mask successfully dumped in the trash ceasing to haunt you - and you’ve already given up answering the door to demanding, greedy little witches, hobgoblins and mummies wrapped up in cheap ply toilet paper. 

The bowl of candy is now nestled snugly in your lap; the floor clear of the discarded popcorn. Your eyes are glued back to the flat screen as you finish the remainder of the movie, sinking down further into the couch so that you’re almost horizontal, as you chew and suck the candy corn clacking around your teeth.

A knock on the door a little while later makes you jump, but you ignore it, deciding the kids in your neighbourhood have had their fill. You reach for your phone - the light illuminating your face in the dark with Frankie’s beaming grin whilst he noogies you set as your wallpaper - to see it’s a little past nine PM. 

You toss it on the couch beside you, absorbing in the movie, reaching into the candy bowl for more as Michael Myers terrorises Jamie Lee to no end.

The door knocks again, this time a thudding hammering.

What the hell?

You pause the movie and get up with the candy bowl, padding over to the hall and towards the front door. The knocks grow louder, more insistent, making you flinch.

“Alright, Jesus!” You call out as you open the door, expecting to see a cluster of snarky little demons holding out their treat bags gluttonously.

But as you wrench the door open, you’re met with only the stark emptiness of the dense night. Frowning, you poke your head out further and see there's only vacant spaces hidden in the shadows of the porch. 

You shut the door, convincing yourself it’s a harmless prank from bored teenagers that you’ve become a victim to.

You run your hand around a niggling crick in your neck from slumping on the couch for so long and head back towards the lounge. 

Before you reach the end of the hall, another barrage of hammering rattles through your body. Turning, you march towards the front door and pull it open again.

“This isn’t funny, you little dipshits!” You holler out determined to catch them in the act. 

Again, there’s nobody there; the street is empty, devoid of any life or wily children making the rounds for poison candied apples. You hesitate, torn between curiosity and a faint bleed of fear haemorrhaging somewhere within your muscles. 

“The fuck…?” You query as a cold breeze nips at the tops of your shoulders as you step out onto the porch.

“Hello?” You call out, nerves already frayed as they're going to get this evening; your patience is running thin.

The eerie silence of the night that greets you back seems deafening as it plugs up all your senses. The breeze restlessly pulls the goose bumps out of your pores and you instantly feel foolish, if but a little rattled. 

Sighing, you retreat back inside. You wait for a few moments, listening, waiting again for the sound of the phantom knocker. You shake your head listlessly and with a stupefied mirth to yourself, even though the lingering sense of unease remains, trying to claw at your ankles.

You bolt the chain across the door before you finally walk away, convincing yourself that it’s nothing more than your paranoid mind left to its jangled devices. 

Of all the nights to play fucking pranks. 

Once the movie is over, you climb the stairs up to bed; washing up in the bathroom, now dressed in your matching shorts and shirt pyjama set, and brushing out the candy now cemented in your molars. 

Once you're sunk into the softness of your mattress, you roll over onto Frankie’s side, missing his shape wrapped around your body and the feel of his breath warming the back of your neck as he snores lightly.

The musky scents of him linger in the sheets and you inhale deeply, reminding yourself that you live in reality and not some torrid nightmare with crazed, masked killers. 

As you drift off, you smile at the thought of him losing at poker to Joel and Dave, and how much shit you’ll know they’ll both give him for it too. 

It wakes you, bleeding into your chromatic unconsciousness and interrupting your stunted, dreamless sleep. 

A sense of unease washes over you, amplified by the eerie stillness that still hangs in the air as you glance the time on the alarm clock. It sears its menacing red vitriol into your sleepy retinas brightly. 

It's just past midnight and Frankie’s side of the bed is still empty. 

You lay still and clammy in the sheets, straining your ears to hear what had interrupted your sleep, trying to discern whether it’s real or if your mind had yelled at you from somewhere in the void, pulling you out with a jolt instead. 

You close your eyes and roll over again, your arm tingling numb from sleeping on it, when you hear it again. 

At first you dismiss it as a product of your overactive imagination, still haunted by the spooky shenanigans of the night, or the creaks in the house coming out to taunt you further for shits and giggles. But it’s there, unmistakably. A faint sound ruminating from downstairs. 

“Frankie? That you?” You call softly, sitting up. 

You listen out, the waves of your heartbeat rolling and crashing into the tide of your eardrums, disturbed only by a siren passing in the night.

You slip out of the sheets and pad over to the bedroom door that’s ajar. You're certain you'd shut it when you came up. 

“Frankie?” You call over the landing and wait. 

There’s a loud clanging noise that startles you and you step backwards. 

Nope!

Dashing into the bedroom, you reach into the closet for Frankie’s old college baseball bat that’s beaten up and splintered to hell, but it’ll serve as some protection.

You grab your phone with the intent to call Frankie to come and kick some ass. You swipe across the screen and dial Frankie’s number. It rings off as your battery dies.

“What?” You murmur as you fiddle around with the wire, certain you had plugged it in to charge, trailing it down to the socket and find it’s unplugged and left loose on the floor. Shit!

The noise from downstairs stirs your attention, making you jump, and you’re more than convinced there is someone in the house. 

“Frankie, if you’re fucking with me again, I swear to God, I’m gonna kill you!” You mumble to yourself, standing up and tiptoeing towards the door. 

It falls quiet and you step closer to the top of the stairs. 

“Frankie!” You hiss out, assuming he’s probably drunk and rattling around down in the kitchen and making a mess, but you also don’t want to take the chance in case it’s not.

You descend down the stairs slowly, quietly as you can muster; the bat firmly in your hand and poised ready to swing. You convince yourself that you’ll be able to take them. Frankie’s shown you a thing or two about how to carry yourself.

Yeah. Come on, you fucker.  

With your pulse rising in your ears, you step into the hall, glancing at the front door. It's still chained up and the dread fully overtakes you.

You raise the bat and round the corner into the lounge. You reach for the light switch and flick it up, but the lights don’t come on at all. You flick it up and down a few times, but you remain in the swamping dark.

Fuck! 

You hear the sound again, and it’s indeed coming from the kitchen. Loud and rustling. 

“Frankie?” You call out gently. The sound stops and you’re certain you hear footsteps. Perhaps, realising that you'd locked him out, he's come home through the back door.

"Frankie, answer me."

You head towards the kitchen, the orange light pooling in from the lamp post outside illuminates the trash can that's now overturned on the floor. You look down and kick it warily with your foot. You think you can see a shadow moving to your left.

The air shifts heavily against the back of your neck, and you yelp, swinging the bat with conviction. 

“Uh-ho, we gotta live one!” A thick voice booms as a giant hand catches the bat mid swing.

The voice comes from underneath a creepy vampire mask, complete with fangs and a bloodstained cleft. He wrenches the bat from you, in easily the biggest hands you’ve ever seen, and you hear it clatter away across the tiled floor. 

You scramble backwards. A leather gloved hand clamps over your mouth, as your arms are crushed behind your back, muffling out your panicked screams. 

You struggle and recoil against the body that holds you in a vice-like grip, despite your legs thrashing like you’re fighting against the tide. 

You glance up behind you and see another mask, this time a ghoul with pieces of skin missing, greets you. It's too dark to see the eyes through the slits. But you can hear his laugh; a cold mist of breathy chuckles as you struggle and fight against him.

His gloved hand presses harder over your mouth drowning out your squeaks into frantic inhalations as you struggle to breathe around it. All you can think of is Frankie. Doing some desperate Jedi Mind Trick shit to conjure him here to beat the crap out of these intruding assholes. 

The Vampire steps towards you, cocking his head and his hulking frame immediately intimidates you, terrifies you even. 

But a flood of adrenaline makes you kick out and your foot collides with his kneecap. 

He growls as he jolts. “Hey now! There’ll be none of that, darlin’,” he warns sinisterly. 

In a nanosecond, that voice registers somewhere familiar in the back of your skull, but before you have time to churn and process it into coherent thought, your arm is twisted further up your spine making you cry out around the gloved hand pressing against your teeth; the pressure making them ache. 

“Grab her legs.” The Ghoul instructs as The Vampire reaches for them and clamps tightly around your ankles as you try to repl against him. 

They manoeuvre you into the lounge where another figure emerges from the shadows, now illuminated by a couple of gloaming candles flickering on the coffee table. 

Your eyes widen as you recognise the gnarly clown mask from the trash, shaking the lit match in his fingers until it's extinguished.

You’re tossed face down into the couch and you scramble, gasping and yelling out as they pin you quickly. 

"Get off of meeee!" 

The Ghoul on your right, The Vampire on your left. Their auspicious, maniacal laughter ringing in your ears; their tight grip cementing you in place, pinching painfully against your skin.

The Clown steps closer peering down at you through the mask; his chest rising and falling, steadily puffed out in his menacing stance.

Your eyes widen as he advances closer, his hands moving towards his belt; thick, long fingers slowly unbuckling it.

You yell out, struggling, but it’s futile. “No, NO!” You kick and scream, the dread poisoning your bloodstream, and they all laugh. 

"Help! Hel-pffh!"

The gloved hand of The Ghoul wraps around your throat murdering your yells into dying croaks that choke out of you like sloppy hiccups. 

"Ain't no-one gonna hear ya, darlin'." The Vampire mocks. "S'just you n’ us, pretty girl. All night." 

The Clown kicks at your ankles separating them as The Vampire yanks your left leg towards him. The Ghoul follows with your right leg and it feels like he pulls it out of the joint.

You're completely opened up, your shorts riding tight up against your centre, and locked into place unable to move. You focus on The Clown and the sinister way in which he moves, head slightly cocked and revelling in your plight; a sadistic voyeur in this cruel fate.

Your breathing is frantic, sucking in too much oxygen making you a little light headed. 

The Clown edges closer, his horrifically masked face craning closer towards yours and you can see those dark eyes staring back at you, unblinking and unflinching.

“Trick or treat?” He simply taunts. 

You’re frozen, paralysed. 

The fear has gripped you tight in a vice so binding that you’re unable to process basic motor functions. Both your fight or flight senses have left you, fled screaming into the night.

You can hear them. All around you. Their rabid voices hitching through the masks; verbal plotting laced with undulating horrors of menace. All the ways they want to feast on you rattles tinny in between your ears. 

Their hands paw at you, tear at your supple flesh like a pack of ravenous wolves; groping, scratching, pinching. Tugging lewdly at the light cotton of your pyjama shorts and shirt. 

The monsters harangue your every sense, flood your synapses with their ill intent. Their white noise deafens you. 

Then, like you've been dunked head first under ice cold water, the sudden awareness of your predicament shakes you with alarm. It's enough to pump fast adrenaline through you like Popeye's spinach as you twist, screech and fight back with all you’ve got.

You’re not sure how you manage it - it's one for your brain to calculate the physics later - but you’re up on your feet, shoving The Clown backwards as he unzips his flies, leaving The Vampire growling.

But The Ghoul is up just as fast and chasing you down as you make a daring dash towards the front door. 

Your fingers rattle clumsily around the chain, cursing yourself that you attached it earlier, unable to get a steady grip on it, when you feel The Ghoul slam into you from behind. 

Your face is crushed hard into the wood as he pestles against you, stars flooding your eyes. You hear him snarling fistules of lava in your ear. He grabs your arms and drags you back. “No you don’t, bitch!” He seethes. 

Now begins the physical struggle that you’re bound to lose. You might have torn at him with your nails, but it barely marks him. Your desperate imploring of him to stop, that he's hurting you, has no effect either. His need is too desperate now for him to even hear you.

You feel his urgency, and realising there’s nothing further you can do or say, your body submits to him as he drags you along with ease - he’s simply too strong for you to fight off - they all are. 

He slams you down, bent forward, over the dining table; your temple and cheek slapping against it, dazing you for a second. 

You feel hands on your body, one hand slipping easily around your throat, the other slipping around the front of your belly pulling you back tight against him.

You feel him, feel the excitement of your helplessness goading him on. Feel that hardness of his twisted desire. Your wrists are restrained at your back, held in place as he easily and quickly manoeuvres them despite your struggles. 

“Please!” You cry out louder.

His voice is rough sounding in your ear. "Don't you dare scream, or I'll snap your pretty little neck!" Foul menace is hissed into you insidiously from The Ghoul. And you know he's not messing around. 

Through the commotion, you hear a chair being pulled out, creaky scrapes, and The Clown takes a seat at the opposite end of the table. He tosses a couple of black cable ties across the polished wood to The Ghoul.

The Ghoul secures your wrists together, sharp and snapping, and you whine with tears pooling in your eyes for them to let you go. To not do this. To please just stop.

The Clown, drawing one denim clad knee up, sitting back in the chair, watches darkly. 

You jut your leg out backwards in a last ditch attempt to not go down without a fight, clocking it into The Ghoul’s thigh and he growls and slams his fist on the table mere inches from your face.

He’s had enough now. 

He tears off his mask and presses his body over yours, suffocating you with his crushing strength. He grips round your chin and turns your head. The face that is presented back to you, smirking with dark brown eyes burning into you like hot embers, renders you useless as he twists your face to meet yours. You can hear your neck crack. 

Oh fuck.

“D-Dave?” You query confused. He grits his teeth, mouth pursed out as he stares you into a weak submission. He's pissed, livid.

You see movement over his shoulder as The Vampire emerges. 

“Cat’s outta the bag, hmm?” The Vampire says to Dave, a hefty hand resting on his shoulder. 

You watch in shock, and with something else starting to flare over your body, as The Vampire removes his own mask, crushing it in his large palm to reveal soft, greying curls slick with sweat in the chocolaty roots. 

“Joel?" You gasp. 

“In the flesh, darlin’.” He sneers through a smile that’s more unnerving than Dave’s fury somehow, completing this picture of terrifying machismo. 

“What is this, w-what’s going on?" You pant, your wrists burning as they struggle around the plastic snare keeping them together and tingling your fingers with numbness. 

Dave’s gloved hand squeezes around your jaw popping your lips open.

“Ssshh.” His leathered index finger pushes tightly to your mouth. Black butterflies dance over Dave’s features. You're tempted to bite down, but sensing this, he pushes another finger in and you heave as it tickles the back of your throat. 

Joel chuckles softly at your plight as he watches you choke around Dave's invading leather digits.  

"So this is what you look like sucking on Frankie's cock, hmm?" Dave taunts.

"Real fuckin' nice." Joel agrees, licking his lips. You catch him palming himself over his jeans and you feel a heavy flutter start to rustle from the grave in your core. 

You try to swallow but your mouth is stuffed so full of the padded leather that your saliva pools out the corner of your mouth and runs down your chin. 

Dave grips the side of your face with his other hand, his hips pushing you against the table. Joel lurches behind him like a stacked shadow, sealing off any gap for a potential escape. 

You want to be furious, you want to push him off you as he pushes his fingers into the furthest reaches of your throat and becomes mesmerised by it as you gag and retch. 

Instead, and in some fucked up depravity stirring from the pits, you melt under his force; enjoying the feel of it and nuzzling into his hand with your eyes closed, until he yanks your hair backwards and holds you still and taut.

You gasp out as he sniffs all over your neck and face like a dog. "Oh, you want this don't you, slut?"

Dave's sudden change in demeanour again does something to you; something wonderfully perverted and untamed. Something unexpected and he picks up on it immediately like a Bloodhound.

He pulls his hand out of the glove, but leaves it in your mouth, pressing it in further until you gag more and your cheeks fill with it.

"I can smell your cunt," Dave says in a voice you don't recognise. It's sinister and deep, yet with a jaunty bounce of a little chuckle on the end of it.

His macabre smile does nothing to appease the angst simmering away inside your stomach. Instead, it seems to intensify it to boiling point and it begins to ache in your gut like a heavy pull.

But then, a surge of devious pleasure swills in your bloodstream, seemingly from out of nowhere; you're aroused by becoming aroused at such a thing. A blooming in between your legs, the slickness of your pussy waking up to join this fucked up tea party. And the feel of your body becoming heated for him makes you sweat.

“Ain’t she pretty, hmm?” Joel taunts. 

Dave runs his mouth over your cheeks; he becomes possessed, animalistic almost as he glides it back and forth, back and forth. You feel his lips drag against yours but he doesn't kiss you, even though you're suddenly desperate to latch onto his lips - to feast on them like you're starved, despite the glove stuffed so unceremoniously into your mouth.

It sends shivers down your body and tingles inside your hair follicles that he’s pulling on tightly. The smoothness of his marble-like jaw, the plumpness of his bottom lip; a kaleidoscopic wonder of him that you've never really paid attention to before.

Somewhere, deep inside of you, you realise you’d always thought Dave was attractive, handsome. And now whilst he’s terrifying and rough, that attraction rears its ugly head and dives haphazardly into wanton lust.

The electric sparks zap down your spine and surges through your nipples that are tightening inside your pyjama shirt. You’re unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your clit throbs. 

He's right. You do want this. 

"You know, I've always wanted to fuck you." Dave's hand reaches for his belt. 

You see Joel kneel down to your level as your eyes widen. You feel Dave yank down your pyjama shorts as he practically tears them from your legs. 

You sound your resistance out around the glove, but all that comes out is incomprehensible moans.

He swipes between your legs, and his fingers slip over your puffy cunt lips, and it's a dead giveaway at how drenched you are.

You feel Joel pat your shoulder. “S’okay, darlin’,” he soothes with maddening eyes. “We’re gonna take real care of ya.”

"Yeah. Feel that tight cunt that Frankie says you've got squeeze round me." Dave snorts. "Fuck, you're so wet…"

You hear yourself audibly whimper as his fingers find you soaking and wanting. He runs them up and down your fleshy seam and pushes two of them into your folds with a loud, undignified squelch.

He slides further up and knocks against your clit that aches and your thighs judder uncontrollably as he circles it. 

Joel reaches between your legs and takes a swipe for himself. You watch as he sucks your slick from his fingers and smirks. 

“Someone’s ready to be fucked, aren’t ya, darlin’?” Joel says to you. 

You shake your head and it clatters against the tabletop.

Dave moans into your ear, "what a little slut. Wet for me already. What would your boyfriend think?"

You whine as he increases the pressure on your clit, your legs already buckling underneath you. 

"Why don't we ask him, hmm? Hey Frank. What do you think about that?"

Your eyes dart to The Clown, watching you silently with tented fingers. 

"Frank!" Dave grunts again through gritted teeth. "Take that thing off and watch me fuck your girl.” 

A hand goes to The Clown's face and you recognise Frankie's features as they're revealed to you from under it. Your heart surges, feeling heavier in your chest. But Frankie doesn't look how you expect him to.

He doesn't look aghast or in disgust, or furious with Dave and Joel. No. He looks positively delighted and smirks darkly at you as Dave lines himself up against your oozing slit.

Frankie tosses the mask across the table. "Fuck her until she screams, Dave." He says casually cold. 

You watch helplessly as Frankie's lips twist up into a chilling smirk that ices right through your blood. 

You whimper helplessly. Your body is shattered with an agonising realisation as Frankie teases and encourages your plight rather than halting it.

You can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly in your chest cavity - pumping courage into your veins, preparing you for what is about to happen. 

He’s not helping you, he’s not stopping this. You realise that he’s heinously a part of it. Tears well in your eyes, threatening to blind you and it feels like every bone in your body has snapped.

Dave shunts his cock into you so hard, that the table screeches and jostles forward against the floor. Frankie slaps his palms down so that he isn't crushed in the gut by it. 

"Shit! Never knew ya had it in ya, Yorkie-boy." Joel remarks with an impressed grin. 

"Fuck you, Joel." Dave pants from behind you. 

He’s not gentle as he drills in, pushing himself into the deepest parts of you he can reach as he fucks you. Your pussy welcomes him in, sucking around him, despite your body clenching initially.

Slowly, you’re unfurling, you’re taking it, taking him, whether you want to or not. Your mind is still trying to figure that part out.

He’s packing you out and filling you to the brim as he surges into a vile, hypnotic rhythm. You’re gasping around the glove; groaning and moaning as your body performs the ultimate betrayal against you, and starts to unwillingly peak. 

“Mmph, nufffph…” You lament helplessly around the suffocating glove. 

"Look at this slut, coming already. Barely fucked you, sweetheart and you're coming all over me!" Dave cajoles as though he's unimpressed. 

"His cock feel too good in ya, honey?" Joel asks, stroking at your sweat laden face.

You whine, unable to speak with the glove still stuffed in your orifice.

"Oh, I know, darlin'. Let's get that out, shall we?" Joel reaches for the leather and slowly pulls it out of your stretched, dry mouth. "That better?"

You nod, licking around your taut gums. "Uh-huuuah…" You groan as your back tenses and your body arches.

Dave pistons in deep, grabbing a hold of the meat of your hips with sharp, tight fingers. You can already feel the bruises forming as he squeezes around your malleable flesh. 

Joel smiles, grabbing at your jaw, squeezing it tightly in a binding crush of his fingers and stubby thumb. "Tell me how good it feels with Dave’s cock in ya cunt." 

"G-goo-ood." You whimper, snottily. You say it to appease him; it’s what he wants to hear, but Dave’s hitting those spots inside you that creep up your shoulders and whisper in your ear that it does, in fact, feel good.

Your muscles are tense all over your body making you feel like lead, but that building heat is melting it all away until you’re a boiling, metallic liquid running off the table to melt Joel’s boots. 

"Just good?” Joel frowns. “Ya can do better than that. He’s giving it to ya hard, honey n’ you’re telling me it’s just good?” He shakes his head disapprovingly. 

"S-so goo-ood…" you stutter, your words being forced out of your larynx with every brutal thrust Dave gives you as he riles and growls behind you.

"Tell him it's the best fucking cock ya've ever had." Joel prompts with a controlled voice. 

"It's t-the best cock… I've ever ha-haad." You hiccup through your wails.

Dave continues to pummell you. You can't take it anymore, it begins to hurt as he nudges against your cervix like a battering ram. It begins to charge and stew. It begins to turn you out, kicking and screaming by the ankles as your fingertips fizz and your eyes roll back into your skull as though possessed by the emergence of another haunting orgasm, only this time stronger than the last.

It's burning, licking all over your skin and melting you. He's taking from you, owning you. 

And it feels oh so fucking good.

"Oh God, oh fuck!" You cry. “Please! Fuck, yes!” You’re babbling; possessed by the inucubus-like demons that twist and trick and convince you that you want this as they lick at your ear. That somewhere, in the back of your mind, this has always been a dark fantasy that you’ve been reluctant to walk the path of.

You can feel the drool from your mouth pool on the table under you, sticking to your cheek like syrup. 

Joel slaps your face and it stings you back to reality for a second. "Louder darlin'!"

"It's the… aaah-ha! Oh God! The-best-fucking-cock-I've-ever-fucking-had! Aaahh! Fuuuuuck!" You wail as Dave snaps his hips into you and you fold completely in half. 

You're shaking and can't seem to stop, Dave's dastardly grunts filling your ears as you squeeze and flood him. "That's it baby, soak my cock. Just like that you little slut." 

"Ohh. Frankie. Man. That's gotta hurt." Joel snorts as he lets your face go and it falls back against the table with a heavy thunk. You've no energy to keep it up right now as you succumb to Dave’s cock tearing you open whilst your bones dissolve. 

Frankie purses his lips as Joel stands up with a smirk tossed at him. The two men watching you as Dave brutally gives you a pounding that feels like it’ll never let up.

And you kinda don’t want it to. 

“Enjoying the show, boys?” Dave pants around a wheezed laugh. 

He reaches forward and pulls at your hair again, snapping your neck up, your spine bending backwards on itself like a screwed up question mark, as he holds you there in a warped contortion and your body can only take it. 

It shouldn’t feel like this, it shouldn’t feel good and devouring. You should be repulsed, you should be frightened with how he's invaded you. You should be doing everything you can to fight him off. 

But you don’t want to.

You want him to snap your spine in half and eat your insides. You want Dave to annihilate you and pulverise your body into ashy dust. You want him to make you come again. 

“Watch me break your girl in half, Frank.” Dave croons evilly, as if able to read your thoughts. 

“Oh god... fuck... please!" Even your mouth betrays you now, begging him for more. "Dave! Pleasepleaseplease…"

But somehow your cries and begging him only make your orgasm that much more intense. And while he laughs, while they all laugh at you being railed on the dining table, deep derisive chuckles at your utter humiliation by Dave’s hands, you come again right on top of the other; your entire body shaking and trembling as you’re being exorcised of any reluctant demons left inside you.

You want this. You want them all to have their fill and to fill you up. You want to be tossed around and shared by them all. Left muddied and stained. 

"Daaaaaave!" You wail.

“That’s it, scream for me! I fucking love it when little sluts scream. Little sluts who scream like they don't want this cock buried in their cunt." Dave grunts into your scalp and he’s all teeth. 

You’re completely out of breath. Your body is caving into him as he ruts and fucks you harder, deeper and without any intention of stopping soon.

You’re starting to believe it when he said he’d always wanted to do this, always wanted to fuck you. And now that he his, it's more terrifying and wonderful than what you could have imagined. 

You can feel him speed up, really giving you his all, as his breathing starts to wane. His thighs are constant thuds against your ass cheeks, so much so that you imagine the skin between you is now one.

“Fuck!” He yells out. 

When Dave comes, it’s like he’s howling at the moon; turning himself around his bones and sinew as he pants and wheezes like an animal with bloodied carcass strings hanging around his teeth.

You feel him pump into you, his thighs buckling and his hands releasing your hair from around his grip; you feel like you’ve been scalped. 

He lets go of you completely, tossing your used body onto the tabletop like garbage, as his cock slips out and you can feel his come pooling at your entrance. You inadvertently squeeze to stop it sluicing down your thighs as your panting subsides.

You’re dizzy, you’re seeing spots in your vision as you try to remember how to breathe. 

You’re given no remission; Joel’s there immediately as Dave steps back, catching you before you slide off the table into a heap as your legs finally give way. 

“I got ya, darlin’.” He scoops you up into his strong arms with ease, and carries you through to the lounge. 

Joel makes his way with you in his arms; his heavy boots crunching in some of the popcorn spilt on the floor in your earlier fright from Frankie that you'd missed clearing up.

He sits on the sofa, cradling you in his wide lap and stroking through your hair gently. Your arms are aching, feeling like they're on fire as your wrists are still lashed together tightly behind your back. 

You look up, in a heady stupor, to see Frankie still watching from the dining table with a blank, unreadable face and dark eyes, and Dave pouring a glass of water and gulping it back, clearing his throat, naked from the waist down and puffing out his cheeks that are pink with the exertion. His face shines with sweat. 

“Let’s get these off ya, darlin’,” Joel says. 

He pulls a switchblade from his back pocket and you flinch as the blade flicks open. He waves it under your eyelashes and you tense. 

“M’gonna cut ya free. Ya try anythin’ and I’ll slide this into your belly, y’hear me?” He pinches the fat of your stomach under the flaps of your pyjama shirt to emphasise the point. 

You nod frantically as he cuts the cable ties from your wrists. 

Tucking the knife away, he brings your hands around to your front and massages the feeling slowly back into them. They have purple rings around them that itch and weep from raw blisters. 

He brings your wrists to his lips and presses gentle kisses over the broken skin whilst holding eye contact with you.

An urge surges through your fingertips; you feel compelled to stroke through his curls, feel him nuzzle into you at his gentle nature. Run your nose over his facial scruff and see if it smells different from Frankie’s. 

But you don’t, he keeps your twitching hands firmly in his own as he kisses delicately, runs his soothing tongue around the welts. 

“Better?” Joel asks you after a few minutes. 

You nod as he pushes your knotted hair behind your ears.

“Alright, darlin’. Lay back. M’gonna fuck ya now.” 

"Please-" you start in a weak protest. Your body isn;t ready for another pounding yet.

"Shut up. Ya gonna take what I give ya like a good girl." He menaces in the same gentle tone, which is unnerving as it is heated. “In fact, let’s get you down here. Can splay ya out. S’better.”

Joel picks you up like you weigh nothing and lays you on the wooden floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way with his other hand effortlessly. It creaks across the wooden floor.

His foreboding, giant hands grip either side of your pyjama shirt lapels and wrenches it open with a quick yank; the buttons tearing and popping off, some never to be found again.

"Fuck," Joel groans as your breasts spill out at him. He leans forward over you, taking a nipple between his lips and sucking on it, pulling on it with his teeth and making you hiss. 

"Such a nice pair, darlin'. Jesus." He gruffs tonguing around your nipple as it hardens in his mouth. He runs his mouth across the valley and peaks of your breasts, his tongue lavishing attention around those stiff nipples that he teases.

You feel him bite down on the meat of the left one and you hiss as he sucks the skin in around his teeth ferociously. He rises up when he’s left a purple mark. “Something for ya to remember me by,” he says. 

Your eyes water, yet you groan in response to his biting, and shut them as he leaves another mark on your sternum. You feel a sharp sting across your cheeks; you open them again in shock.

"Eyes on me." Joel warns. "Want you to watch me turn ya out." 

“Please, Joel…” You whine, trying to resist him and the way he can simply knead and spread you about with ease like you’re a pliable plasticine doll. But your body is too strung out from Dave’s gruelling punishment. It has no fight left in it.

You try to close your legs, but Joel’s too strong. He wrenches them apart with a simple shove of his hands making your thigh bones crack: his stocky body filling the gap and stopping you from shutting them again as he slots in between like a giant cinder block.

"Don't act like ya don't want me inside ya. I know you've been thinkin' 'bout me doing this to ya. You're a fuckin' tease." 

Joel's always been big. With his broad shoulders and biceps that often strain under his plaid shirts, he's the quieter one of the three of them, the softer one.

A gentle giant that would always come to your aid if you needed him. And he knows how to grill a mean steak when he invites you and Frankie over for barbecues and he makes for the perfect, gracious host. 

But tonight, he's showing you a side of him you never thought could exist. A side of him that's turning you on explicitly, despite the creeping exhaustion and pursed reluctance.

Joel's a Texan gentleman through and through. But tonight, he's a wild fucking animal. 

“Y'gonna hold ya girl steady for me, Frankie? Squirmy lil' thing ain’t she?" Joel grunts as he unbuckles his belt. 

Momentarily, you feel Frankie lifting your head into his lap and securing your arms above your head as you wriggle and headbutt against his thighs. “Don’t fight it, hermosa.” He warns. 

"Gon' make a mess of ya, darlin'," Joel smirks as he shuffles his jeans off and you spy his ominous cock; massively hard and dripping. It's huge, almost comically so, and you gulp. 

Fuck!

"Ya ever had a cock this big before? Gon' break ya open." Joel spits into his palm and smears it all around his fat head as he pumps himself. 

You gasp; a deep guttural howl transmorphing into a silent scream as Joel pushes the head of his engorged cock against your hole and begins stretching you out.

"Oh God… so fuckin’ tight. Ya didn't tell me how good this would be, Frankie." Joel groans through a slack jaw. "Ya can't be keeping this pussy to yourself. That ain't fair." 

You hear Dave snicker in agreement above you as he repositions himself on the couch to get a better view of your plight. 

“Oh fuck…” You cry out as Joel continues to push in further.

Frankie's cock was big, he often left a delicious ache deep inside you for days after. Even Dave's cock you'd feel bruising around your insides in the morning. But Joel? Fuck, Joel wasn't joking when he said he'd break you open.

It burns and sears and you feel so full despite him not being all the way in yet.   

"Fuck Joel, you're… it's too much. I can't-" You protest, shaking your head and screwing up your eyes.

"Suck it up." He grunts as he pushes his hips further into yours. 

"Take it," Frankie grizzles, as you try to thrash against his hands, pinning your arms down. Your whole body feels full of Joel as he finally stills; his full, fat length buried inside you and you can feel yourself rib and pulse around him, already on the cusp of falling apart. You're whimpering and shaking already.

"Well look at that, seems ya can take me after all, sweetheart." Joel smirks, the crest of his hips now pressed flush against yours. The weight of him crushing you somewhat. He looms over you, his gigantic palms flat on the floor by your head. 

"Please move," you whimper around grinding your teeth. “Oh God, Joel, you’re too fucking big-”

"What's that, darlin'? Ya begging me to fuck ya now?" Joel chuckles. "Ya girl's really greedy for cock, Frankie." 

“Fuck her,” Dave encourages. 

Joel pulls backwards and slams forward into you with a hard shunt. "There we go." 

"FUCK!" You wail, water blinding your eyes as they mist over. You feel him; one quick, hard shunt of his cock inside of you and you gasp at the full invading breach as he bottoms out.

Although it feels like he’s ripped right through your back. 

He does it again and your breath is pumped out of your lungs into the air above you as you flounder, trying to suck it all back in. 

Joel's large paws grab at your hips as he kneels up and steadies himself into a brutal pace, rattling your bones with each powerful thrust. 

Your hands squeeze into fists and you glance up at Frankie; a poised smirk over his upside down features, a few renegade curls falling into his face, watching Joel's thick cock hammer into you. 

Joel's grunts fill your senses, mesmerised by the way he looks down to see himself pull back and admire how wet his cock is with you before he raises his eyebrow up and smirks accomplished. “Greasin’ me up good, darlin’.”

“Joel!” You wail as he slams on in again. You’re just a body for him to fuck, a toy for him to twist out of shape and break apart. “Oh fuck, please, nuuaaaahhh!"

Your gasps and cries are soon silenced by Dave straddling your face and planting his heavy balls into your mouth. "Shut up and suck." He commands.

He strokes his now hard cock again, and groans as you’re forced to suck whilst Joel continues to annihilate your cunt. 

Dave smirks at Frankie who’s still pinning your wrists in place. 

You look up at them both, staring into one another as Dave jerks his cock and Frankie holds his eye contact with flared nostrils.

Dave grips onto Frankie's shoulder with a heavy clap. He growls whilst you suck on his balls that have completely filled your mouth, squeaking around them as Joel forcefully pulls another orgasm from you. 

Frankie rests his forehead against Dave's as he groans, fucking into his own fist. 

You see Frankie's lips twitch, whispering to him, but you can't hear anything over your own muffled squeaks and Joel's rabid panting.

You think you lipread Frankie telling Dave to come. To come for him, and that thought alone makes you surge and cry out as you release all over Joel's cock uncontrollably.

Meanwhile, Joel is destroying your cunt as he thrusts deep and with intent on making you feel it; feel him with every shunt that leaves you gasping for oxygen as it's pushed out of you by his dick. There's simply no room in your body for both. 

Your squeaking around Dave's balls reaches a fever pitch and the humming against them only makes him grunt and growl heavier. 

His grip on Frankie's shoulder tightens, screwing up his t-shirt as he pumps his cock faster. He tenses and you feel his balls lurch in your mouth as he spurts ropes of thick ejaculate all over Frankie's denim clad thighs. 

He hoists himself off of you, panting and sitting back on the couch. "Clean him up," Dave instructs you with a click of his fingers. 

Joel pulls out of you and flips you over onto all fours and ploughs back in as you shakily get to licking Dave's come off of Frankie's jeans. 

"Good slut," Dave praises as he sits back on the couch, his arm slung over his face and breathes deeply. 

You feel Joel pry apart your ass cheeks. You feel a wet globule of his spit on your ass and you flinch at it, feeling it cool and sloppy as he rubs his thick fingers around it, teasing your puckered hole.

You then feel Joel's thumb stretch through your rim. You instinctively clench and he growls. 

"Clench and it's gon' hurt. I'll make sure of it." He smacks your ass as you yelp from the sting.

"Relax, hermosa," Frankie instructs, grabbing hold of your face and focusing your attention on him.

You shake your head frantically; the thought of Joel’s cock ploughing in your ass fills you with utter dread and horror. “No,” you implore Frankie with wide eyes. 

“I said, relax.” Frankie says squeezing your cheek bones tightly. You can feel Joel twisting his thumb deeply in your hole.

 A dewdrop of Dave’s come is smeared on your cheek and Frankie scoops it onto his finger and holds it out to you. He hisses, biting his lip as you suck it off, eyeing him the whole time.  

"You're such a good fucking whore for us, aren't you, baby? Quieres esto tan mala, ¿verdad?" Frankie nods encouragingly as you fall under his dark spell. You feel his own thumbs stroke at the sides of your face now as you pant and whine. 

"Yeah…" you nod too, straining not to clench as Joel's thick thumb hooks fully into your ass. 

"There we go, snug as a bug, darlin'." He emits a chuckle that seems to grab at you and shake you with its eerie, sadistic violence.

“Does ya girl squirt Frankie?” Joel asks as you inadvertently start pushing back against him as he fucks you more laboured now.

Frankie chuckles and nods. “Just gotta know the right place to stroke.” He looks back at your face in his hands, sweaty and panting. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Joel nods in agreement. “I reckon you can squirt for me, darlin’.”

“She can. Let me get some of that pussy.” Frankie says, highly enthused at the prospect. 

Joel pulls out and rolls you on your back as you collapse into the floor. You can see Dave sitting forward, elbows on his knees and watching you intently with those dark eyes. You reach around his ankle and tug gently and whine and he responds to your wanting.

He slips down and slides behind you, propping you up, groping and massaging your breasts.

You catch the glimmer of his wedding band as his hands work your tits and you can only wonder at what Carol is assuming he’s doing this evening.

Those thoughts are cut short as Joel kneels up, slipping his thick cock back inside you, and Frankie lays down beside him on his stomach and starts sucking on your clit. 

You whine, watching intently as Joel’s hand comes down on the back of Frankie’s head, sifting through his curls and groans. His mouth is practically on Joel's cock too, and it does something to you as your body fizzes in response to the delicious sight of it. 

“Fuck!” You cry out, biting down on your lip. 

The pressure on your clit and the way Joel hits that spot deep inside you just right starts to build in your body. It all centres, gathering deep in the pit of your core as the warmth starts to choke you up.

You feel it tightening, bunching. Your toes start to curl, your fingers crack. Your back lifts and arches of its own volition and your thighs shake and stiffen.

You feel a pull, a heavy sensation as you bear down. The pressure mounting, pushing… You see those phosphenes glimmer at you as you close your eyes.

You can hear Dave’s snarls close to your ear, feel his fingers tugging on your nipples. Feel Frankie’s skilled tongue drawing those fast, dizzying circles on your clit. Feel Joel hitting that spot again and again that’s going to annihilate you imminently.

They're everywhere, they're all over you.

Your climax is almost violent; you buck and shudder as you release the pressure, always feeling for a split second like you'll pee, but don't.

You're gushing loudly, and uncontrollably, over Joel’s cock and Frankie’s lips. It bears down again, that weight inside of you erupting as you release. Frankie laps it up like a starving animal as it soaks his scruff. It feels like you’ll never stop. 

“Holy shit!” Dave remarks with a smirk watching you squirt. He squeezes your tits together as you place your hands over his and giggle deliriously. He squeezes your fingers around his. 

The combination of having Joel’s thick cock in your pussy, while receiving a tongue fucking from Frankie makes for a most lewd and unabashed scene whilst your head thrashes against’s Dave chest as he chuckles just as bewildered by it as you are.

You can’t believe it, your cunt is absolutely gushing as the three of them work in tandem to completely destroy you. And you’re loving it. 

Frankie licks his lips that are dripping as he rises up, the collar of his t-shirt is soaked, and Joel grabs a hold of you and fucks harder, quicker. More determined as he nears his own release. 

“Joel!” You wail as you squeeze against Dave’s fingers, feeling like you could crush them.

Finally, Joel comes roaring like an animal, and pumps himself liberally inside of you. 

"Fill her up now, Frankie.” Joel nods with a puff as he pulls out.

The mess that is over the wooden floor between your legs is obscene.

Frankie pulls off his Levi’s, runs a hand through his messy hair, and crawls over you.

"Who's pussy is this?" He asks slipping a finger side of you and feeling the spend of both his friends in there, warm and silken.

"Yours," you whimper.

"Really? I think you need reminding, hermosa. Seeing as you've been such a fucking slut tonight, hmm?"

"Frankie..." you whine as he pulls you forward towards him. He lines himself up with your pussy, pushing in.

"Aah!" You groan.

“Fuck, Joel stretched you nice and good, baby. Shit. You feel loosened up.” He growls thrusting hard and fast. You can only clutch onto him, only whine and groan as Frankie gives you his all.

"My pussy. My fucking pussy." Frankie seethes at you, hips snapping furiously into you. He pants, growls. Garbled Spanish and English flows from his lips as he pummels you.

He finishes inside of you quickly, too riled up from this whole scene to not bust a nut quickly. 

“Got all three of us in that slutty pussy now, don't you?" Dave taunts.

“Which one of our kids ya gon’ have?” Joel smirks as he pats your tummy gently. “Cunt’s filled to the brim.”

The three of them dazzle you, utterly fucking you up. Working together like a team; a gang of insidious spectres dominating and taking their turns with you.

And you fucking love every single second of it. 

After Frankie fills you, Joel pulls apart your legs to watch the cream pie spilling out of you. 

He runs his fingers through it, pushing it back inside you. He then brings them to your face, Dave holding onto your jaw and bringing it forward towards Joel's drenched digits. He rubs them over your lips. "Lick ‘em clean. Taste all of us." 

They all watch with praise and smirks as your tongue moves out tentatively, licking the salty cream from Joel’s fingers until he finally pushes them in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around them tightly as you suck them like you would Frankie's cock.

“Mmm,” you whine, giggling. "You all taste good."

Dave chuckles behind you and Frankie laughs, his chin leaning on Joel’s broad shoulder.

“Good slut,” Dave praises in your ear.

You lay there in a crumpled heap, gradually gathering your thoughts; striving to understand and come to terms with what has happened this spooky evening. 

But initially you’re still too confused, still swimming in a blissed out fracture of reality bobbing along the surface of a choppy existence.

Baffling questions bloom and wilt quickly as you have no answers to appease the turmoil of embarrassment, shame… of pure unadulterated pleasure. 

You can hear the shrill echoes of the guys in the hall, dressed and murmuring with Frankie. You can't hear much, the ringing in your ears from your body being mauled and torn at still hums, but you think you can make out Joel saying something. 

She’s a good sport… Hope she liked it.

Take care of her tonight. Dave adds. 

Ya still coming over Sunday, for the game? Joel checks.

You feel like you zone out for a while, only coming to when Frankie stands above you, towering and looming; his presence breaking the barriers of your heavy consciousness.

The look on his face is unreadable, impenetrable. 

You peep up at him from behind the scraggy mess of your knotted hair, your scalp still aching from how hard Dave had tugged on it. 

"I can't believe you did it." You grin, the concealed violence of this night escaping through your teeth into blissed satisfaction.

Frankie’s cool look instantly melts into a warm sunbeam. "Was it what you wanted, querida?" He asks, crouching down, knuckles running against your leg affectionately.

You nod. "It was better than I could have imagined. Creepy. But so fucking good." You smirk dreamily. "I really got into it."

He smiles accomplished, a faint blush of pink creeping under his eyes and in the crinkles there as he grins. "Good. How are you feeling, you a little sore?"

"My whole body feels like I've been tackled. I think Joel broke me." You start laughing as your pussy flinches in horror at the recall of him stretching you wider than you've ever been. 

"He's a big guy." Frankie chortles. 

"You're telling me. Jesus." You reach down and cup your battered pussy. 

"Come on. I'll run you a bath." Frankie scoops you up in his arms and carries you up to the bathroom.

You plant a delicate smooch on the side of his golden neck. “Thank you for this,” you murmur. 

“Cualquier cosa por ti, mi amor.” He runs his soft scruff against your cheek as he navigates the stairs. You can smell your cunt in it and you smile. 

He gets in the bath with you, pulling you back against his soft belly and soaping your body down with a hot washcloth. Your wrists are still purple; he smiles insidiously, feeling a rush through his cock at the decay of them.

"Did you enjoy it?" You query as his soapy fingers interlock with yours and you feel his breath cool against the shell of your ear. 

"I loved every second of it," he assures. 

"No jealousy?"

"None at all. I trust them. We discussed it in length. I told them anything goes, but no kissing you on the mouth and they respected that. It's all good."

You nod and mull it over, enjoying the hot water soothing the embryonic bruises you know will gestate overnight on your skin. You glance down at the purple bites Joel left on you. You press on one enjoying the masochistic flare for a few moments. 

You think back to so many things, but then you remember Dave and Frankie and that intimate moment you witnessed where Frankie was whispering to him. 

"Have you guys… ever done stuff together?"

"No. No, never." He says. “First time. For all of us actually.”

You nod, admittedly feeling a little swell of disappointment. But it’s washed away by the thought that perhaps they’ll be up for it again, one day.

"Well, this is going to make poker nights interesting now, hmm?" 

You feel his chest vibrate against your back as he laughs. "Yeah." 

"Dave is just… an animal!" You exclaim chuckling.

"Poor Carol." Frankie says, and you both start laughing and find you can't stop for a little while.

You both stay in the water until it starts to cool and the bubbles have all gone, just enjoying Frankie noodling and fussing over you, and relishing how lucky you are as he wraps his wet arms around you, and you could happily drown in the bath water.

It's late; the dawn is on the cusp of rising on the first day in November and you watch as Frankie climbs into the sheets, naked as the day God created him with golden tan skin, pulling you back against his body that moulds itself around yours like warm putty. 

His thumb draws gentle circles on your navel as he buries his face into the nape of your neck. You reach for your phone, previously plugging the charger back into the wall.

“Did you do something to the power?” You query.

He chuckles. “Yeah. I switched off the breaker. Joel must’ve reset it when they left.” He yawns. 

“You guys thought of everything.” You smile. 

"We were in the house for a while. You were asleep." You hear him smirk into you skin.

You smile. You see a message that had come through whilst your phone was off, from Frankie, and click it open.

It's a selfie of Frankie, Joel and Dave outside on the porch with the Halloween masks on, possibly taken moments before they stormed the house. 

Underneath is a message typed out:

You smirk as Frankie stirs behind you, rubbing your back, and you put your phone back on the table and rollover into his arms.  

The light from your phone stays illuminated on your previous message thread with Frankie:

“I love you,” you murmur into his skin as you settle, closing your eyes. You plant a couple of small kisses on his chest.

"Yo tambien te amo, hermosa." Frankie whispers, his fingers dancing slowly in your hair as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep inside of the Devil’s arms. 

I really hope you got a spooky kick out this story. I'd love to know your thoughts and I hope you enjoyed reading it on this Halloween Fright Night. 🖤🎃

🎃 Re-blogs & comments fuel me! TY!💀

MASTERLIST

#joel miller #dave york #frankie 'catfish' morales #pedro pascal #joel miller smut #pedro pascal characters #dave york x f!reader #frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #joel miller x f!reader #tw noncon #tw dubcon #tw dark #jett's pedro boys #jett's writing #happy halloween #fright night #joel miller tlou #dave york equalizer 2 #triple frontier frankie #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat

[janaispunk]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

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[wildemaven]

strangers : fog | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 5208 chapter warning's: 18+ blog: established relationship, workaholic Dave, soft Dave, miscommunication, Smut (slight exhibitionism, dry humping, orgasms, keeping kind of vague for the sake of not giving things away), implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), Dave’s phone makes an appearance- shocking, drinking alcohol, smoking cigarettes, conversations with bestie, reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, this is au- no Carol (at least not canon Carol) or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: I kind of struggled with the end of this one. It felt very flat and blah, but thankfully @gnpwdrnwhiskey Is a gem and helped me, and it feels good now. So grateful for all of you who’ve been following along. Xoxo

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It’s sweet. 

But not the kind of sweet that aches and destroys your addiction. 

It’s perfect. Just enough. 

The kind of sweet that falls somewhere in the middle. Satiating that deep seeded craving that burns through your every fiber. 

Like a glass of ice cold tea under the Texas sun, sweetened to perfection. Each tantalizing drop coating your tongue, idly encompassing every single taste bud with refreshing pleasure. 

You're greedy. Reveling in your consumption. Take. Take. Take. Because it’s all you want and everything you’ve been needing. 

Finally.

You feel him everywhere. The weight of him is substantial, pressing you into the side of the pool. A secure grip onto the ledge, the swell of his biceps flexed as he does his best to keep you both suspended and unmoving from your secluded spot. 

He’s a blistering summer heatwave, one you’re fully hydrated and prepared for, but still stunned by its sultriness. 

“You think they’re watching us right? All of them so fucking jealous at how good I’m makin’ you feel.” You don’t bother to take a look when he says it, your head angled back and eyes closed as his lips work their way up your neck, your only concern at the moment. 

“Mmhmm— I honestly don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see how good you’re taking care of me— fuckbaby!” Your train of thought derailed when his hips jerk up with a little more eagerness than you expected. 

The cool water laps rhythmically against you both. The tiniest of splashes to your exposed skin as it surrounds your bodies, relieving the heat that’s burning through you. 

“Ahh!” You gasp at the sensation of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Nipping and pulling. The gentle glide of his tongue soothing over the pleasant sting. 

“Sorry—“ He manages to get out. “Didn’t mean to be so rough, but also been wantin’ this so fuckin’ bad.”

His lips seal over yours again, groaning where he can feel you grinding against him, discreetly hidden below the surface of the water. Your legs wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, holding him as close as possible. 

He’s unbelievably hard. Cock nudging against your aching core, the water aiding in the flow of your hips moving over him in search of relief. 

“I’m definitely not complaining in the slightest. If anything, I’m entirely enjoying the roughness— wouldn’t be opposed to more of it.” You say smiling against his swollen lips. 

Your words lure him back in, driven by a deeper sense of want forging beneath the water. Lashes fluttering shut as every bit of him consumes your senses. All tongues and teeth, tracing over every ridge and fleshy surface. A sweet delicate dance of unbridled emotions. 

It's a slow building, intensely breathtaking. Your body ignited by self-indulgent energy, so hell-bent on seeking out unrivaled satisfaction, but you don’t seem to care. Focused solely on how each and every nerve lights up because of him, desperately wanting a release. A natural response to the way he’s holding you, kissing you, his determination to bring you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Fuck— that feels so good!” Breathless and anchoring yourself to his warm body. 

“Yeah? You think you can come like this?” One of his hands settles on your hip, helping your unfaltering movements, hitting that ever so desirable spot just right. “There you go, gorgeous— just like that.”

“ohmygod!! I’m so close— don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.“ Your grip secure on his taut shoulders, unmoving even under the wet conditions. Your head falling onto his forehead, noses nudging, exchanging desperate wordless breaths. 

“I’ve got ya.” He whispers, nodding softly as your body writhes against him. “Come for me, Baby.”

“Oh fuck! oh fuck! oh fuck— I’m coming!” Everything dissolves into pleasure. Tense and blissed out as your cunt contracts around nothing. 

“Open your eyes, Baby. Let me see you come undone.”

You pull back just enough to see him. He’s beautiful, framed in a hazy white vignette. His patchy beard is both rough and soft beneath your fingertips, tracing over every little detail of him while you still can. His rich brown eyes now a golden hue as the light hits them from the reflection of the water.  

“Fuck— Joel!”

You’re floating. Further and further away. Every detail of him slowly dissolving into nothingness. 

Your body jolts awake, Oh god, That felt so fucking real. Quickly sitting up, your hand to your chest feeling where your heart is frantically pounding. 

The dry air from the vent billows out from above you, cooling as it skims over your tacky skin. 

The remnants of last night's headache still remain. Though it wanes in intensity, the throbbing pain continues. Rubbing at your temples, the added pressure doing absolutely nothing. 

There’s a faint familiar ache that catches your attention from below the sheets, prompting you to throw them off, finding a pillow still tucked tightly between your legs. The experimental squeeze of your thighs around the pillow sends a fresh ripple of pleasure from your fading orgasm, causing you to inhale sharply. Your palms clamping over your mouth, breath more constricted than the last as a strong feeling of shame begins to surge through your veins. 

The hotel room feels paralyzing, especially with Dave sleeping beside you. 

The beach. 

Needing some fresh air and some time to collect your irrational thoughts, away from this confined space where everything seems to be closing in on you. Hastily, you manage to pull on some warm clothes and sandals while throwing your wallet and phone in your purse without waking Dave.

You know the minute he wakes up to find you gone he’ll panic. It will take only minutes to have all his agent buddies pulling maps and running background checks on anyone who lives within a mile radius of the hotel. You’re already annoyed with his distant behavior, you don’t have it in you to deal with the added disgruntlement that will ensue. 

Grabbing for the monogrammed hotel stationary, you scratch out a note to leave on this nightstand for him to find when he does wake. 

Good Morning, Babe Couldn’t sleep. Went for a walk down to the beach. I have my phone. Will be back in a bit.  Love you Xoxo

You two his phone screen, noting the time at the bottom— 8:00 am —a little tactic Dave had ingrained in you for matters as such, giving a starting point in the case anything were to happen to you, taking the guessing game of when out of the equation. 

A New Message glows on the screen, came in sometime last night after you both got back from dinner, he must have fallen asleep before seeing it. 

Double checking, you peek over the mound of blankets that is Dave’s solid body— still sleeping. The side of his face buried into his pillow and his plush lips parted. No worry lines etched across his forehead. No tension pulling at his jawline. His perfectly groomed hair, all disheveled and twisted in all directions. 

Your heart blooms at how handsome he is, his truest self on full display. A running joke between you, how others would be disappointed to find out his grumpy exterior is all a show, only reserving his softer side and big heart for you. 

Refocusing back to his phone, you tap the message to preview it— a message from his mom. 

Mom: Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. 

Did she find out? Find out what?

*

The beach isn’t far from the hotel. Grateful for only a few hellos and forced smiles exchanged on the shared path on the short walk.

The air is crisp the closer you get to the water, a light breeze blows over the shoreline bringing tiny bits of sand crystals through the air. You can feel the salt already crystallizing against your cheeks. 

The lingering fog adds a bit of gloom to the atmosphere as you look out over the horizon in front of you. The white caps of the waves slowly roll over into the next, pushing their way through until they’ve reached the shore. The water fanning out as it moves, blanketing over the sand as it reaches where feet are planted firmly, now surrounded by the frigid sea water. Then it slowly slinks back out, leaving you numb as you wait for it to return. 

Good Morning! Are you busy?  No. Are you okay? Yeah, I’m fine. I just need someone to talk to.  One sec!

It takes a few flicks of the small metal dial for the flame to ignite, cupping your hand around to shelter it from the light wind threatening to squash your attempt at some sort of relief. 

It’s instant when it hits the back of your mouth, swirling and stinging about as it creeps up the back of your throat. That burn is all too familiar, no longer a regular occurrence, but definitely not forgotten. It takes the edge off momentarily, it always does. You imagine blowing out all your pent up anger as your release the smoke into the oceanic air. 

The cigarette sits between your fingers with ease, secure against those first knuckles as you bring it back to your lips for another desperate pull. That dedicated drag of your favorite menthol smokes had once been a regular part of your daily life in your college days. Getting you through long days of studying and working late hours, barely keeping your head above the water. Pack after pack. Light, smoke, tension gone, repeat. 

Eventually it was downgraded to a social practice before finally kicking the habit all together. Something Dave never pushed for, but was proud of you nonetheless. 

Your phone screen illuminates and buzzes simultaneously, a picture of Jacey double fisting some beers at last year's Fourth of July party pops up. The image alone already makes you feel better. 

“Mmm… Hello?” You can tell she just woke up by the way she garbles her words into the phone. 

“Hey, Jacey. I didn’t wake you did I?”

“Mhmm— Kind of but it’s okay— had a bit of a late night, but it’s fine. How are things going?”

“Fine. Good. Things are good.” Trying hard to keep your voice even without giving away too much— but she knows you too well. 

“I’m calling bullshit. You’re seriously the worst liar ever. Spill.” 

“Ugh. Where do I even start?” You tell her, audibly groaning into the brisk pacific air. 

“I’ve got some time.” 

Jacey has always been this way. Available whenever you’ve needed her, at a moment's notice. Connecting with her in college, your friendship has been a steady source of support and encouragement through the years. She stood by you when you married Dave— having her now makes you feel less alone. 

“Well, if it’s not one thing it’s another. There were some high hopes for sex when we got in the other night,  then he passed out— which is fine ‘cause traveling and what not. But I got in my head, questioning shit about myself and our relationship. Like maybe it’s me or something. He did try to initiate the next morning but I just kind of wasn’t feeling it— so we didn’t. Plus he had phone calls he needed to make so he wasn’t worrying about them the rest of our time here.”

“Hey, it’s not you at all. Don’t ever think that. You’re a catch— Dave knows that too.” She says, her reassurance firm but delivered sincerely. 

“Thank you. I mean, we kind of fooled around at the pool yesterday.”

“Ooooh!! I love this for you.”

“Well, then he ran off right before I— you know.”

“Fucking men, I swear.”

“Only to find him on the phone when he said he wouldn’t be. Then he was all jealous over this stranger I was talking to. We got back to the room, things seemed a little tense— we still went to dinner. Don’t really remember much after that, because I kept ordering dirty martinis at dinner.”

After hearing the beginning of his phone call, the shower didn’t do much to help. You didn’t want to make a scene, deciding to just leave the hurt bubbling inside of you back in the room and make the best of the rest of the night. 

Dave seemed pretty much his normal self going into dinner. Conversation was lighter than it was earlier in the room. You both caught up on things that you hadn’t really talked about in a while— details about his latest assignments (within reason), your own latest work projects, random tidbits about things —things felt normal.

There was a slight shift in the evening, when he was checking his phone more often than usual. Glancing at the screen between bites of his steak then trying to figure out where you left off in the conversation. 

You hadn’t even planned on drinking, but the chilled cocktail in front of Dave had been taunting you, begging to help obliterate your lingering thoughts. Then it was I’ll have another, Maybe one more, Suuuuure another sounds grreat. The dim restaurant turned into hazy fractures of light. The steady buzz of alcohol had you feel giggling and sleepy, slumping back into the velvet cushion of the intimate booth. Dave cut you off before things turned into a wild evening, shifting from your introverted self into a very lively and friendly drunk. 

You don’t even remember getting back to the room, just brief glimpses of Dave undressing you and helping you into one of his shirts, then tucking you into bed. 

“Hold up. Rewind— you fucking hate martinis! What the hell happened?!” She knows you so well. 

“Jacey, you’re my best friend. Someone who will be straight with me no matter what. I think— Do you think Dave is cheating on me?” You ask meekly, inhaling another minty pull from your nearly finished cigarette. 

“What?! Babe, why would you think Dave is cheating on you? Did something happen?”

““No— I mean yes. I think so. Fuck! I don't know what to think. We got back to the room after the pool yesterday, talked for a little bit then I went to get ready for dinner. I guess he thought I closed the door or something but I could hear him talking to someone—“ You try to keep your voice steady, finding it hard to blink the tears away as the wind whips around you. 

“Okay. Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s cheating on you. It could have just been more work shit he said he wasn’t going to do. Maybe he figured he could squeeze it in before dinner— not wanting to upset you.” Jacey is all about layout the facts and details before jumping down dark rabbit holes. 

“Ashley— Her name is Ashley. I heard him say her name.” 

There’s a beat of silence on the line before you hear her sigh. 

“Oh— what else did you hear?” She says, sounding a little more somber than before. 

“Nothing. My brain kind of went blank after that and I just got ready for dinner like I didn’t hear anything. Hence the abundance of martinis I drank my way through. Which also explains the slight headache I woke up with this morning.”

“Okay. So whoever he was talking to—“

“Ashley.” Details Jacey. 

“Right, Ashley. We don’t really know much, aside from that. So it could be anyone. Could be work related— Ashley could be a last name too. You know how they always do that last name first thing for whatever reason.” Somehow she always finds a way to get you to back away from the cliff, especially when your feet are over the edge. 

“Yeah, probably.” You say softly in agreement. A flock of birds catching your attention, their wings moving in unison as they fly overhead. 

“Look, like you said before— I’m gonna be straight with you. I don’t think Dave is cheating or would ever cheat. That man loves you. Sure, he’s kind of been a little too invested in work, which is affecting things with you. I don’t think there’s someone else. I promise. But I do think you both need to talk instead of this weird dance you both are doing, that way you’re both on the same page.”

“Okay. Yeah— you’re right. Thank you, Jace. Last thing— Does it make me a bad person if I had a dream about another man last night?” You ask, feeling a bit embarrassed as you voice it out loud. 

“I have those all the time— especially with that cute actor from that narcos show we love. Dreams don’t equate to real life.” She only slightly laughs at your confession. 

“What if it was with a guy I met at the pool who’s staying in the hotel, who listened to me spill my life away about how I’m not sure if my husband wants kids or not now— and how marriage feels like a mess.” 

“Oh! Pool guy was cute— No, I don’t think that makes you a bad person. Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. It was a dream. You’re fine. Hey, I hate to bail on you— but I’m umm, getting another call. We will chat soon, then you can give me more details about the cute pool guy. Love you!”

“Love you too, Jace. Talk soon. Bye.”

The call clicks out. Waves crashing onto the shore brings you back to the beach. Your cheeks cold and feet stinging as the water recedes again. 

It's nearing 10 am now, deciding to head back before Dave does in fact worry that you’ve been gone for too long. You snuff out the smoldering cigarette in the wet sand and stick it in your bag to dispose of later. The added nicotine now mingles poorly with your lingering hangover, body in desperate need of water and a strong pain reliever. 

On your way back to the hotel, you take every bit of what Jacey said and truly let it sink in, even as hard as it is to not let your mind wander into dark territory. She’s right though, it doesn’t do you any good to dwell on situational events if you have zero proof of anything. That doesn’t mean that you’ve written off your uneasiness completely, just simply tucking it away for the time being. 

The sweet bellmen welcomes you back with a friendly smile and a wave as he holds the door open for your return. The lobby now bustles with more guests than earlier. Some checking in for their stay, others enjoying the picturesque ambience of the hotel. 

In the time that it takes to get up to your room, you’ve run through several different scenarios in your head. All feeling immensely overwhelming at the thought of talking with Dave about how you’ve been feeling since he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the subtle inklings that there’s been a definite shift in your relationship the past few months. You’re not really sure you even want to have the conversation now, let alone here— not wanting to ruin the rest of the vacation in the chance things don’t go as smoothly as you want. You ultimately decide to wait, once you’ve settled back in at home, finally address everything with him.

You can hear Dave’s voice muffled outside the door of your room as you search for your key card in your bag, sounding as if he’s talking to someone on the phone. 

The room is bright as you enter, the curtains pulled open allowing the sun to shine through the large windows. The bed is somewhat made with the pillows stacked neatly and sheets straightened in an orderly Dave manner. 

Food had already been ordered and delivered, set out on the small table on the balcony. Your favorite breakfast of eggs benedict and toast along with a fresh pot of coffee. Dave’s usual eggs and bacon sit untouched, waiting for your return to enjoy breakfast together. 

Dave’s standing in front of the window, looking out at the scenery with his phone to his ear, but the sound of you entering the room has him turning towards you. 

His hair is freshly washed, combed up and out of his face. Wearing his favorite blue jeans snug around his hips, a white patterned shirt just barely buttoned to reveal enough of his slightly burnt chest to make your mouth water. It’s his beaming smile, arguably his best accessory, that makes your chest flutter, drawing you in closer to where he’s standing. 

“It’s my mother.” He whispers, covering the phone with his hand as she continues to talk into his ear. 

Did she find out? Call me when you can, we’ll talk about it then. Still wondering what her vague text message meant. 

“Yeah, Mom. She just walked through the door.” You hear her mention your name through the speaker. “My mom says hi.”

“Hi, Carol.” You say sweetly, kissing Dave’s cheek before turning to place your bag on the ground near the dresser, leaning back on the wall, watching Dave as he finishes the rest of the conversation. 

“Okay, sounds good…Tell dad hello for us and we’ll talk to you later… Love you, too… bye.” The screen of his phone goes black and he tosses it over to the bed. 

Grabbing a glass and some small pills resting on the dresser, closing the short distance to where you’re standing and holding the water and pain reliever out to you.

“I figured your head is probably killing you this morning.” Dave says smiling at you, no sign of annoyance in his face. 

“Thanks— Sorry about last night. I don’t know what got into me.” Tossing back the pills back, gulping the water down quickly, your focus on the remaining drops of water sliding down the side of the glass, pooling together at the bottom. 

Dave takes the glass from you, setting it over on the top of the dresser. One of his hands settles on your hip as the other tilts your chin up so your gaze is now directed at him. 

“Did you have a good walk?” Dave asks. One of his warm hands now cupping the side of your neck, surely he can feel the way your pulse is quickening, elevated just by a simple touch from him. 

“Yeah. It was nice— foggy, but beautiful. We should go again before we leave.” Your hands migrate to his shirt, fingers absentmindedly toying with the top abandoned buttons and soft silky fabric.

“Umm— I can smell the smoke on you. It’s fine, I don’t mind that you were— but is everything okay?” He knows, senses something is off, because he knows you don’t just smoke to smoke these days. Senses there’s something that triggered your need for your old vice, something to dull out whatever is silently bothering you. 

Yet somehow you have almost forgotten about the cigarette until now when he asks. Feeling a bit of shame for the second time again this morning, though you don’t pick up on any sort of judgment when he does ask about it. 

“Everything is fine. Just sounded good so I bought them on my way to the beach— don’t think I’ll even finish the pack though. I’m good.” Liar. You hate the way Dave winces at your answer. He knows there’s something simmering below the surface, but he doesn’t push for more. 

“Okay— okay. There’s breakfast here and I was thinking afterwards we could go to some shops or something. I made reservations for tonight at 6, I thought you might want to find something new to wear. Maybe we can grab some lunch near the beach too.” He tells you, brushing off the small specks of sand cemented to your face. 

You find yourself on the brink of tears, swallowing the little lump that started to form in your throat. Certain the next few days would be filled with worriment and noiseless vexation. There’s almost relief in hearing how he’s planned out the day, something he hasn’t done in months. Work and meetings always at the forefront of his planning lately, leaving little to no time for dinners or regular weekend getaways. 

“Or we can stay in if you want.” His head tilts a little, brown eyes scanning over every detail of your face as you mull over his plans a little longer than he expected. 

“No, that sounds nice. I brought some dresses that I can wear though, we don’t have to buy anything.” You shake your head in response. Pushing a few loose strands that had fallen out of place, his eyes closing at the sensation of your fingers combing through his hair. 

“We can just look, and if you find something you like we can get it.” Dave suggests— a nice middle ground. 

He leans in, his nose knocking against yours, humming as you continue to play with his hair. 

“Okay.” You breathe out, his intense eye contact starting to ignite something within you. 

“You’re sure everything’s okay?” Offering you another opportunity to bare it all out for him. 

His lips graze over yours when he asks, just enough to have you wanting more. 

“Yeah. Everything is fine— promise.” 

“Alright. Let’s get some food in you and then we can get ready to head out. And there’s coffee—” His thought abandoned, his lips crashing into yours in a passionate kiss. 

You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses you further into the wall. Your head swirling with want, thrilled at the fact that he’s so keen to give you exactly what you’ve been craving. The scent of his cologne mixed with the musky smell of him fills your senses, making you weak for him even more.

His tongue explores your mouth, tangled together in a heated dance as your bodies grind against each other, arousal growing with each passing moment. 

His hands roam freely over your body, stopping at your hips to pull you in even closer has you gasping into his mouth.  

“Fuck— Dave!”

“Yeah— that feel good, Baby?” Dave’s hard almost instantly, pressing against you as you slowly grind on him. You're scorching from the friction of your bodies, the coil already winding in your lower abdomen, shivers tingling up your spine.

“Yes!! Oh god, yes!! So good, Dave!” You cry out. The heat between you unbearable, the need for release is all consuming—- more more more. 

Dave’s lips fuse to yours again, dragging one hand down between your bodies. He slips under the waistband of your leggings, deft fingers finding the damp fabric of your panties, a sticky mess because of him. He’s enlivened by the way your body writhes as a result of his touch. Fingers circling over your clit in a deliberate frenzied manner, causing you to release a breathy moan into his mouth.

“You think you can come right here? I’m not gonna last much longer.” He says breaking the kiss. His eyes are filled with a burning desire as he looks at you. You nod, encouraging him to continue his ministrations, before he’s capturing your lips again. 

You whine at the loss of his fingers moving over your aching bundle of nerves, your body in dire need of his touch now that he’s giving you all of it. 

Dave’s hands slip under your top, fingers trailing over your pebbled skin as he pulls it up and over your head. You help him, tossing it aside, leaving you in only your lace bra and bottoms as you lean back against the coolness of the wall, chest heaving with need.

“More— pl-please, I’m almost there. ohfuckyesyesyes!.” His hands explore your body, memorizing every curve and dip with a new surge of want and urgency, his fingers trailing down your back to grip your ass and pulling you closer— sparks of pleasure blazing through you nearing a fiery release. 

‘I know baby, I’ve got you’ murmured against your neck, his words riddled with assurance as he sucks on the sensitive skin there. 

Your hands grip his shoulders as he continues to explore you with his mouth, caressing every inch of you as he makes his way down to your chest, pulling the fabric of your bra down, his fingers gliding over the tight skin. He cups the weight of your breast in his hand, taking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, teeth gently nipping as you moan louder and louder, while his other hand fondles and twists at your other side. 

“Oh fuck! Baby, I’m gonna come—“ You gasp, arching your back, your nails digging into Dave’s shoulders has him clamping down harder on your overly sensitive nipple. The pleasing painful sting shoots straight to your core, your velvet walls pulsating, your climax within reach.

A pleasurable ache builds for the second time this morning, except this time it’s because of Dave. All your pent up emotions forging together, building into the most magnificent wave of arousal you’ve felt in a long time. 

You pull his face up to meet yours, lips messily crashing against his in another bliss driven kiss. His hard cock straining behind the tightness of his jeans, tilting your cunt at the perfect angle while hoping Dave is reaping the benefits of your euphoric pursuit as you grind down on the rough seam of his denim that helps careen you over the edge. 

It’s like a dream— except it's not, it’s better. Real and satiating. Your orgasm is forceful as it rips through you, taking every bit of residual tension along with it. 

Dave’s movements become faster and more charged. His hips moving in a stuttering pattern— fuckfuckfuck —then stilling as a deep groan barrels through his chest. You wrap a leg around him as he collapses into you, his face nestled in the crook of your neck, holding him tightly to your body. 

A breeze blows through the open balcony door, diffusing the layer of sexual haze wafting through the room. The air is welcoming, enveloping your bodies in the crispness that comes with being in close proximity to the Pacific. 

It feels lighter. Less suffocating— even with the weight of your husband holding you against the wall. The low lying fog no longer a dense cloud looming over you, allowing the brightness to fully shine through. 

The turbulent thoughts have settled, replaced with a mildness that seems more manageable for the time being. Your headache becomes a subsiding dullness, overpowered by the replenishment of a compelling desire. 

“Shit— I came in my fucking pants like a goddamn teenager. Couldn’t even make it to the bed.” He says, post sexual vibrato etched into his voice, pressing a soft kiss to your collarbone as he lifts himself up to his full height. 

Dave’s skin is glowing, a sheen of sweat glistening in the morning light. His cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink, the muscles in his neck flexing as he worked to control his breathing. The silkiness of his shirt now damp and stuck to his chest. 

“Hmm. I feel too good to even care. You have no idea how bad I needed that.” You smile at him, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth, brushing a few fallen strands of hair away from his face. 

The corner of his eyes crinkle. He’s beaming, infatuated with you as he leans in, resting his forehead on yours and whispers, “Do you have any idea how much I love you?.” 

“Love you too, Dave.”

#Dave York #dave york x reader #Dave York x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

[absurdthirst]

High Infidelity {Dave York x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.1k

Warnings: Cheating, fraud, mentions of divorce, payback, forced cuckolding, restraints, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, revenge sex

Comments: When you find out that your husband is banging the neighbor's wife, you and the neighbor decide to make them pay.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The moment was bittersweet, finding out that your suspicions were correct and that he could no longer gaslight you was a temporary feeling of relief. Quickly replaced with hurt and devastation. He was your childhood sweetheart, your first and only love, and for the better part of a year he has been sleeping with the woman next door.

The same woman whose kids you babysat during the week to let her and her husband have a peaceful date night, the same woman who had sat in your kitchen a few nights earlier with a group a mutual friends and drank your wine, the same woman who had held your hand and reassured you the night that you found out your husband wasn’t able to have children.

Rewatching the footage of them kissing as they entered the bedroom you shared, him ripping off her dress as she unbuttoned his shirt made your heart lurch. Never would you have imagined it was with Carol York.

The signs he was cheating were there from day one; being overprotective of his phone, working late, charges on your joint account that just weren’t adding up and then the biggest cliche of all; lipstick on his collar. 

The urge to confront him was bubbling up in your stomach, and then you thought about Dave… Did he know? Did he suspect anything? Should you tell him? 

After going back and forth a few times you had settled on yes, he deserves to know. So you pick up your laptop, and slide in under your arm. Ready to go next door and tell him everything.

****

Rolling his eyes after the doorbell peels, Dave sighs and stands up from the kitchen table. His laptop open and report that was making his head throb was never fun but distractions just makes it harder to get back to work. Especially since the house is actually quiet with the girls at school and Carol at work. Moving towards the door, he opens it to find you, his next door neighbor waiting. He hums your name in surprise and wonders if something is wrong. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you reply with a weak smile, “I’m really sorry to interrupt whatever it is that you’re doing, but we need to talk.” 

“Everything alright?” Your face is filled with concern and he’s immediately on guard, eyes sliding behind you and not seeing anything that would have him reaching for the pistol kept in the entryway table.

“Honestly, no,” you admit with an uncomfortable laugh, “Can I come in? I don’t think it’s something I should tell you standing at your door.” 

Frowning, Dave stands back and lets you in the house. He normally doesn’t like having someone - especially female - at the house when Carol isn’t here. Busybodies talk and he hates that kind of shit. “What’s going on?” He asks as he closes the door. 

“Thank you,” you say as you walk into the kitchen and settle your laptop on the counter. “Look, I’m so sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but you deserve to know, and I’ve bought this here as evidence. I don’t have to show you it but I thought bringing proof was the best way to handle it... Carol and Tommy are having an affair.” 

The first instinct he has is to deny it. To question why you are telling him something that he knows isn’t true, but he doesn’t. There’ve been times where something doesn’t sit right with Dave. Carol’s ease of assuring him that Tommy will handle something while he’s out of town. “What evidence?” He demands, knowing the best thing is to hear you out. If it’s flimsy, he can start watching his wife’s actions. If it’s concrete proof, he will know.

“It’s a video,” you say as you open your laptop, “I’ve been suspicious for a while, and then I found underwear that definitely doesn’t belong to me. So I bought a nanny cam. Are you sure you want to see this?”

“Shit.” Dave hisses but he nods. “Show me.” He demands, hating how his stomach is curling at the thought. It’s not like he hadn’t thought about other women, but he hadn’t touched one.

You nod a few times before moving the laptop to face him, pressing play on a scene that makes you feel violently sick. “I’m so sorry, Dave. Never in a million years did I expect it to be with your wife… my friend.” 

Dave’s brows pull together, jaw tightening in anger as he watches, listens to the scene in front of him. There’s zero doubt that is his wife, bouncing on another guy's dick. He doesn’t even realize his hands clenched in anger as he watches, furious at the betrayal.

Seeing the fury and the obvious hurt on his face, you decide to pause the video and close down the laptop. He doesn’t need to see anymore and neither do you. “As soon as he gets home today, I'm making him leave. He can go back to his mothers.” 

Dave huffs, nearly glaring at you. “Show me the rest of it.” He demands.

You push the laptop over at him, and shake your head, “Fine, but I don’t want to see anymore.”

Nodding, he watches as you log back in and he pushes play. Glancing at you when you winch, hearing the moans and the breathless conversation as they fuck on what he assumes is your bed. “Fucking assholes.”

“She’s faking it,” you scoff, as the moans get more animated. “The man couldn’t give a woman an orgasm if his life depended on it.”

He snorts and it’s on the tip of his tongue to ask why the fuck you stayed with him then. “Don’t kick him out.” Dave decides seriously.

“What?” You say with a raised eyebrow, before both of your attention is immediately drawn back to them. Laying in their ‘post coital glow.’

“God, I swear she gets dumber every day,” your husband says with a laugh, “All I’ve got to do is pay her five minutes of attention and the stupid bitch thinks everything is fine. Doesn’t even realize that my lawyer has pretty much voided the prenuptial agreement. I’ll hand her the form to sign and just like the dutiful wife she is, she’ll be signing half her money over to me without as much of a second glance.”

“Dave makes good money, but he’s so fucking boring. He wants to ‘save for a rainy day’.” Carol hums. “But he doesn’t ever spend time with just me. He always wants the girls around. I’m tired of being a perfect mother. I honestly didn’t want Molly. But Dave had to try for his boy.” She snorts. “Too much of a pussy to give me a boy, I guess.”

Dave growls, pissed at the way she is talking about their daughter. He doesn’t give a shit about what she says about him. “She’s the fucking one who decided to take out her fucking birth control.”

“It’s been about a year,” you say to Dave, “Well, that’s when I started having suspicions. Always working late on a Thursday night, and unexplained charges on our joint account. I’ve let him walk over me for a year.” Tears start to well up in your eyes, and embarrassment floods through you. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t fucking cheat.” Dave scoffs. “Don’t be sorry.” He shakes his head, “don’t kick him out. Don’t show him that you know.” He advises, the gears in his mind already turning. “Get a lawyer, start moving your money around so he can’t take it.”

“Okay,” you say with a deep breath, “I have an account that he doesn’t have access to. Fuck. I’m so stupid. I knew he was cheating, I just let him gaslight me over and over.”

“You didn’t want to believe it.” Luckily you and the fucker don’t have kids, and he would just fucking kill them both, but the girls would miss their mother. He narrows his eyes at the screen. “Get a lock box, or safety deposit box for all your paperwork. will, social security cards, jewelry. Lock them up. Start removing him from shit. Access to the cell phone plan to make changes. Utilities, whatever you have jointly, unless it’s something he uses everyday.”

“I, uh, I should write this down,” you say, nodding your head, “Dave… Thursday nights… Was she here? There were nights where he came home the next morning after claiming he slept in the office.”

He shakes his head, huffing to himself. “She had ‘book club’.” He gives air quotes. “And since they supposedly always got so hammered, she would stay there.” He had thought it was stupid, but he had also felt like his wife deserved a night out, away from the kids.

“Fuck.” Shaking your head, “I’m going to go home. Start the things you’ve suggested. I’m really sorry again, Dave. I just felt you deserved to know.”

“Thank you for telling me.” His own situation is slightly more difficult, often the agency will put people on desk duty when finding out they are divorcing and he doesn’t want that. “Let me know if they make more videos. I’m going to install a camera here too.”

“Write down your email address and I'll send you that video. I guess we will have to work out a way to approach this together.”

Dave nods and reaches for the pad he keeps next to the home phone. Ripping off a sheet and writing his private email down, along with his phone number. “I’ll think of some way to make these fuckers sorry.” He promises, handing it to you. “I’m going to be finding out the toughest lawyer in the business. I’ll let you know their names.”

“Thank you, Dave,” you say as you feel your reserve slipping, the urge to cry coming back in full force. “Let’s make them pay.”

He nods, watching as you pick up your laptop. “Call me if you feel like you’re going to tell him you know.” He asks, knowing that he would tell Carol and then Dave would have to figure out a plan b.

“Will do.” The second you’re back inside, you start the tasks he gave you. Starting with gathering up all your important documents and putting them in a temporary safe space and then ordering a safe. You wonder how long Dave’s plan will take and hope it won’t be too long, the idea of sharing a bed with your husband makes your skin crawl.

****

Thursday’s have become sort of a check in day. You normally end up coming over and spending the evening with Dave and the girls. Sometimes having dinner and then staying once the girls had gone to bed. Tonight is another check in and Dave pours you a glass of wine. “How are you holding up?” He asks quietly.

“Better,” you admit with a smile, “Everything except the joint account is handled. Just ready to move on with my life and hopefully meet someone who actually cares about me. How about you?”

“Most everything was in my name anyway.” Dave admits with a small smirk. “She can’t touch the house since I bought it with my VA and I’m going for custody. I might have to pay her out, but whatever.”

“I guess him being infertile ended up working in my favor,” you say sadly, “I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone because he said that it was embarrassing, but I own the house. My Dad left me an inheritance and I was fortunate enough to buy it outright with it. I’m going to miss living here.”

“Why are you going to move?” Dave asks. “If you own the house and bought it with your inheritance, it’s yours.”

“I always imagined filling it with kids,” you say with a shrug, “I don’t want to be in a big house that’ll remind me just how alone I am.”

He frowns slightly, even as he voices his next thought. “You could always bring in another guy.” He reminds you. “Find love and fill it with kids.”

“I guess.” The sadness is evident in your voice, so you change the subject, “So are you any closer to coming up with a plan?”

Dave chuckles and glances up just as there is a loud thump upstairs. “After the girls are asleep.” He promises, knowing little ears don’t need to hear his plan.

“Sounds like you have something figured out,” you say before taking a sip of your wine.

“Do you want to humiliate them?” Dave asks with a small smirk. “And get revenge?”

“Yes,” you answer with a smile, “I want him to hurt the way he hurt me.”

“Then I’ll tell you about my plan in twenty minutes.” He promises and nods to your wine.

“So drink up, you’re gonna need it.”

Wordlessly you nod and take another large sip of your wine, desperate to hear his plan.

The two of you dance around the subject, talking about things in the news, events happening in town and Dave enjoys it. He’s come to enjoy talking to you and spending time in your company. Your husband is an idiot to throw over someone who is funny and nice, actually pays attention to the world around her - he doesn’t deserve you. When Dave’s self appointed time is up, he sets down his own wine glass and leans in close. “We should sleep together.” He announces.

“What?” You say with a giggle, convinced you’d misheard him. You had thought about it, fuck the last few times you’ve slept with your husband you’d found yourself imagining it was Dave, circling your clit with such intensity that you came harder than ever before. “I mean… Fuck, I want to. But wouldn’t that make us just as bad?”

“Not if we fuck in front of them.” Dave chuckles, smirking slightly because of your admission of want. “As a sort of goodbye gift to them.” 

“Oh,” you say, thinking about the look of Tommy’s face as Dave fucks you. Tommy paraded you around like a trophy, having no issues embarrassing you by announcing to anyone and everyone that you lost your virginity to him and he’d be the only man to have been inside of you. Like you were his possession. “I like it. But I have one condition…. and you might find it a little weird.”

“What’s that?” Dave tilts his head and looks at you curiously. It’s not unusual to have conditions and he would be surprised if you didn’t.

“I want you to cum inside of me.” You say after taking a deep breath, “I’ll buy Plan B in preparation and you can watch me take it. But I need for him to see that it’s really over, and despite what he thinks… he doesn’t own me.”

Dave frowns and then he remembers the first Christmas party after you had moved into the neighborhood. Tommy had been shit housed and bragging about how his was the only ever cum you’ve had. He had marked you good and proper. Dave hums, his lips curling up wickedly. “Done.”

“Thank you.” It feels oddly liberating to think about. “I don’t think we should do it in the houses though… Maybe book a hotel. Request adjoining rooms and keep everything a surprise. Blindfolds and gags. Only reveal to them what’s happening after they’re strapped to some shitty hotel chair unable to move.”

He raises a brow and smirks at how quickly you came up with something that is so feasible. “Noise canceling headphones.” Dave adds, nodding. “So they can’t hear us opening the door and whatever, not until we are ready.”

“Perfect. I want them to suffer. And I know that’s awful to say out loud but the way they spoke about us… fuck.” You shake your head and laugh, “You know that he doesn’t pay for a single bill in our house. Works part time and the entirety of his paychecks go on his stupid hobbies… Golfing or gaming. I put money into our joint account each month and he just… Fuck. He gets nothing.”

“You have a prenup, and a clause for cheating.” Dave smirks and chuckles. “Carol’s gonna get something, but it won’t be enough for her liking.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face as you fuck me.” You say with a chuckle, before finishing up your wine. “What’s your favorite color?”

Dave grins and imagines you in his favorite color. “Green.” He hums. “Dark green.”

“Dark green it is,” you say with a wink. “When do you wanna do this?”

“I say we wait and do it when the lawyers finish the divorce papers.” Dave suggests. “We pack their shit that day and load it into a storage unit, change our locks and codes, fuck in front of them, drop the keys and the papers and shoot them the bird on the way out the door.”

“That sounds perfect. I know this sounds weird to say, but I'm kind of grateful he cheated. I would have spent forever living in his shadow and the past few weeks I’ve really started to realize that he doesn’t deserve me.” You say, with your first genuine smile in weeks. “Also I get to fuck my sexy neighbour in revenge.”

“You think I’m sexy?” Dave’s brows wing up and he’s flattered by the compliment. It’s been a long time since someone’s said that. The marriage had hit rocky patches before but never like this and he sees now that she’s been disengaging for a while.

“I have eyes, Dave,” you say with a giggle, “Every woman on this block stops and stares when you walk past. Those shoulders… Fuck. Those lips.”

“You’re so full of shit.” Dave huffs, rolling his eyes even if he secretly likes the compliment.

“Oh please,” you say, “Like you haven’t noticed the staring. Honestly, I’ve thought of you whilst using my wand,” you admit with a shrug, “After seeing you mowing the lawn shirtless.”

He smirks and leans back. “Might do that on purpose.” He admits with a shrug. “Tanning and all.”

“Well thank you for the show,” you giggle. “God, I can’t believe she cheated on you with him. I know he’s my husband but I had the excuse of him being my high school sweetheart. We’ve been together for years and he’s never made me cum once.”

“Bullshit.” Dave snorts and shakes his head. “Not even once? By accident?” He asks, nearly amazed by how fucking horrible that is.

“Never. He doesn’t do foreplay, and he’s never found that spot inside of me,” you shrug, “Usually I let him do his thing so I can roll over and sleep, occasionally I’ll rub my clit just to distract myself.”

“He doesn’t eat your pussy?” Dave’s eyes widen in shock and disgust. He understands that not all women cum from sex, he had a girlfriend before Carol who could not cum from penetration but he damn sure made her cum on his tongue.

“Nope. Never. He’s never even tried it, says the idea of it makes him ‘queasy’.” Looking over at him and seeing the look of surprise on his face makes you chuckle, “Guess I didn’t pick a good one.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, what a moron.” He shakes his head and his opinion of Tommy drops even lower than before and he didn’t think that was possible. “What a ….fuck, a pussy.”

“Nah. A pussy is useful,” you correct him, “I should get back. I’m super tired and he hasn’t texted saying it’s a ‘late one’ tonight so I figure they’ll be home soon. I will be counting down the seconds until the lawyers are done with the paperwork.”

“I would offer to show you what a real man does with his mouth, but I’ll wait to give him a ‘lesson’.” Dave hums, standing up and offering you a hand to get up off the couch.

“Oh, yeah? You going to eat my little pussy in front of him?” You ask with a raised eyebrow. You take his hand and let him help you up.

“Fuck yes.” Dave smirks. “If he finds it repulsive, I also wanna remind Carol what she’s missing. She fucking loved when I would go down on her.”

You hum happily, “I can’t wait to feel those lips on me.” Leaning forward you place a small kiss on his cheek, “Thank you for tonight. I really enjoy spending time with you and your gorgeous girls. I’ll be waiting impatiently for the paperwork to be completed. Goodnight, Dave.”

“Good night, sweetheart.” Dave walks you to the door and opens it for you. “As soon as it’s in, we’ll make sure they regret cheating on us.”

“Yes we will,” you agree with a smile, before walking back over to your house. Creeping upstairs and getting into the shower. Letting yourself get lost in imagining the feeling of Dave’s hands all over you, his mouth on your cunt and his cock buried inside of you. Your fingertips work your bundle of nerves as quickly as they can and you cum with a soft moan of his name. Climbing out of the shower you get dried, fix your hair and get into your pajamas. Wanting to be asleep or at least pretending to be when Tommy finally crawls in beside you.

****

“I got my papers.” Dave risks a call, knowing Carol isn’t checking the phone bill and calling you as soon as he steps out from his lawyers office. They don’t approve of his idea, but he also wasn’t told he couldn't do it. Just that he shouldn’t and he doesn’t agree with that.

“Me too,” you say gleefully down the phone. “You want to do it this weekend?”

“I’m thinking so.” Dave grins at the glee in your voice. “How do we want to lure them to the hotel?”

“I’m thinking we both book a room - request they’re adjoining, and once they’re both blindfolded, gagged and wearing headphones, we unlock the door and I'll lead Tommy into your room?”

“That works.” Dave agrees. “I’ll tell Carol I want to put some spice back in our marriage.”

“I’ll tell Tommy I have a surprise planned. I’ll go ahead and call and book the hotel.. and then I have some shopping to do… Dark green right?”

“Dark green.” He hums. “I’m going to enjoy ripping it off of you.” He admits, voice dropping.

“Keep playing with my pussy to the thought of it,” you whisper into your phone. “Only a few days to go.”

“I’ll book the rooms together but put one under your name.” Dave tells you, knowing that he will be able to convince them of it.

“Perfect. Is there anything you need me to do?”

“Start making noises to your husband about getting away. Doing something romantic this weekend. I’m going to ‘surprise’ Carol.”

“Perfect. Can’t wait to see the look on both of their faces. I’ll text you tonight, once I've told him about the surprise.”

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, you pop into Victoria’s secret and spot the perfect set and make your way home. Large glass of wine poured, you sip it generously as you listen to his footsteps approaching the door. 

“Good day at work?” You call out from the kitchen with a roll of your eyes. 

“Long,” Tommy groans before reaching over and helping himself to your wine, “Tomorrow is going to be longer.” 

“Oh. I really hope they’re going to start paying you for those long Thursday nights. Sometimes you don’t even make it home. It’s not good for you sleeping on your office floor,” you say with the most sympathetic smile you can force. “Anyway, I have a plan for Saturday night that’ll make it all better. A surprise for you.” 

“A surprise?” He says with a raised eyebrow and a curl of his lips, “What kind of surprise?”

“All will be revealed,” you say as you turn to him with a small kiss on his cheek, “A surprise that involved me spending a huge amount of money in Victoria’s secret for someone.” You leave him standing in the kitchen with a grin plastered on his face as you begin to climb the stairs with the rest of the wine and a new glass, “Dinner is ordered, i’m going for a bath.”

Dinner passes with its normal antics from the kids and Dave watches Carol. Nothing about her demeanor says that she’s cheating but he’s found the credit card she’s using to pay for it. It’s a secret one that she opened in his name. Not only is she renting hotel rooms, but she’s doing it on his fucking credit. It’s malicious irony that Dave booked the rooms at the same hotel that her and Tommy frequent.

Avoiding him for the rest of the evening, you have a long hot soak in the bath and only retreat back downstairs to grab your dinner and a drink. Spending the rest of the evening in bed watching netflix whilst he watches TV downstairs. 

You decide to shoot Dave a quick text to let him know you’ve told Tommy about the surprise, and check you’re still on for to meet up and go over the plan the next evening. 

‘Hey. Told him that I’ve booked a special surprise, and he ate it up. He’s told me he’s “working late” tomorrow, so I can pop around and we can go over things?’

Dave hums as his phone buzzes, Carol engrossed in her show so he slides his phone out and grins. His own reply comes quickly. ‘Sure. Now I wonder if Carol will be told about your plans this weekend? Ever wonder if he tells her that you two still have sex?’ 

You huff and type back. ‘We’ve had sex twice in the past two months, so I’m pretty sure if he’s saying anything, it’s about my lack of interest in the cheating bastard. Only fucked him so he would stop questioning why I was being distant. I doubt he’ll say anything though. The last video of them cheating he spent most of it, reassuring her that he doesn’t love me and never did. Do you think she’ll tell him about your ‘plans’?’

Dave snorts. ‘Haven’t told her. Plan on doing it at the last minute and making it seem like a romantic gesture.’

‘Good idea. I can’t wait till he is out of my house. Out of my life.’

‘Won’t be long. Just don’t kill him over the next few days.’ Dave chuckles to himself and when Carol looks up, he points to the tv. “They are so stupid it’s funny.” He explains, putting his phone away.

‘I’ll try.’ You reply before settling down for the night, wanting to be fasting asleep before Tommy gets upstairs.

****

The next day Tommy is ‘working late’ and Carol has a suspiciously timed meeting that runs over. Making Dave shake his head at how stupidly brazen they are getting. Still, he looks out the window and sees you walking over about an hour after he gets home with the kids.

You knock the door, dessert in hand as Alice whips open the door and immediately informs you that she and Molly are going to eat pizza in her room and watch a movie as you chat to Daddy.

Dave chuckles as you walk in. “The girls are getting spoiled.” He hums. “And so am I.”

“You have no idea,” you say with a wink, “I hear it’s pizza tonight? Sounds perfect.”

“Yeah, Carol had a “meeting”.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Strange, right?”

“Who’d have thought?” You giggle, “Well-,” you say as you pick up the glass of wine he’d poured for you, “Here’s to the last time they lie to us.”

“Are you ready for it?” He asks quietly, picking up his own glass. “For the big reveal?”

“I am counting down the seconds.” You say with a smile. “God, I hope they realize we aren’t to be fucked with.”

“I think they will figure that out when they don’t walk away with the pot of gold like they were expecting.” Dave snorts.

“I just can’t wait to see his face when he realizes that I'm not his trophy anymore.” The doorbell rings and Dave goes to get the pizza as you pour the girls out their juice, ready to take it upstairs to them for their movie night.

“Girls!” The two girls thunder downstairs to grab their cheese pizza and disappear just as quickly, each one fighting over who was going to sing the first song. Dave shakes his head and looks at you with a faux harried expression. “They are going to be trouble later on.” He predicts with a groan.

“I’m sure you can handle it, they worship their Daddy.” You say before topping up your glasses, “I’m going to miss this.”

“Why are you going to miss it?” Dave asks, frowning slightly.

“It’s been nice. Coming around and eating with you and the girls, the highlight of my week. They’re both absolutely adorable.”

“You can still come over anytime.” He offers. “If you aren’t out on dates, you know.” He shrugs and shoots you a smirk.

“Me? Dating? Unlikely. But I’d still love to come over. I mean it when I say it’s the highlight of my week.” You take a small sip and try to ignore the way he makes you feel, the past few weeks you had grown closer to Dave and started to really appreciate how good of a man he is. 

“Shit.” Dave snorts. “You’ll be dating before the fucking ink is dry.” He predicts. “You’re beautiful, kind, funny and smart. And I bet you are killer in the sack. He’s an idiot.” He tells you, talking about your stupid soon-to-be-ex.

“You think I’m beautiful?” You ask quietly. “I can’t remember the last time someone complimented me. And the killer in the sack? Well I guess you don’t have long to find out.”

“I can’t wait to find out.” Dave admits quietly. “And you should be getting compliments all the time.”

“As should you. You’re remarkable. The best daddy ever, you work so hard and it’s appreciated, Dave.” You say before squeezing his hand, “And I’m excited to show you just how appreciated you are.”

“Is that what it’s going to be?” Dave asks, grinning slightly. “A show of appreciation?”

“If that’s what you want,” you tease, “Going to suck your cock. Just the thought of it makes me so wet.”

“Jesus.” His eyes widen, surprised you even said that out loud. He’s thought about it plenty, but apparently so have you. “Then we’ll have to do a sixty-nine. Because I’m gonna give your dumbass husband a lesson on how to make a woman squeal his name.”

“Fuck, that sounds perfect. But also to start I want to look into your eyes as I'm sucking your cock. Feel you fuck my mouth,” you whisper quietly.

“Have you ever done that before?” Dave asks, raising a brow and trying not to spring a boner at the thought of you letting him face fuck you.

“Nope,” you admit quietly. “Tommy had me blow him for a bit pretty much every time we had sex. But it was tame.”

“Bet he likes you to ‘look pretty’ while his dick is in your mouth.” Dave scoffs. “When your mascara should be running and the split is soaking your chin.”

“He just wants to get off. Fuck. I want that.” 

Dave has been careful not to touch you. Not willing to put himself in the same level as Carol. He still won’t fuck you but he does reach out, talking ahold if your chin and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Then we’re going to enjoy it. You’re going to enjoy it.”

You reach out and squeeze his hand again, before taking another sip of your wine and a bite of your pizza. This time in 48 hours it’ll be the beginning of the new end, and the start of something new and exciting.

****

The day of, Dave walks up to Carol at the kitchen sink and wraps his arms around her. Imagining choking her, he forced himself to kiss her neck. “I arranged for the girls to have a sleepover tonight.” He hums, pressing himself up against her and imagining fucking you so he gets hard. “Booked us a hotel room.”

“Oh?” Carol squeals with excitement, “Which one? What’s the plan?” Pushing herself against him a little harder. One thing about Carol York is that she’ll never say no to a surprise.

Dave names the hotel and pretends not to notice the split second of his wife freezing in his arms. He knows she panics and the moment she relaxes, making him hum. “Figured it’s been awhile since we had a night to ourselves.”

“That sounds lovely, darling,” she says, “But I don’t want you wasting your money on me. We can just have a quiet night in.”

“Travel points.” Dave lies easily, knowing that she doesn’t want to go back to the same hotel where she’s been visiting every week. “Already booked and waiting on us. Already checked in.”

“Sounds great,” she lies, hoping the weekend staff aren’t the same as the ones during the week.

****

“You excited for tonight, honey?” You ask Tommy, who’s wolfing down his breakfast. 

“Can't wait to see what you spent a fortune on in Victoria’s Secret, I think I’m due a sneak preview, just to get me through the day.” He says with a wink. 

“No previews. The someone I bought this for will absolutely love it. I assure you.” You say as you go upstairs to pack you ‘both’ an overnight bag.

Dave manages to talk Carol into packing a bag, hustling her out of the house and into the car without much fuss. The girls have already been deposited at their friends house and as soon as she and Dave leave, a team of professional movers will be coming and boxing up everything Dave discreetly tagged to move into the storage unit he had rented.

You stick to the plan and wait for the text from Dave telling you they’re about to check in before you leave. Not wanting any awkward run-ins at reception. “Hey honey, I forgot to fill up my car, mind if I drive yours?” You ask innocently. Knowing that Dave had arranged for the movers to come to yours after they’ve collected Carol's stuff, and taking his car meant he’d have no reason to come back to your house.

Huffing, Tommy rolls his eyes, desperately thinking if he had left any evidence of Carol being in the car. “You’re lucky I make sure that my car is filled up all the time.” He lectures. “You need to take care of those things.”

“I’m sorry, love,” you say with a fake pout, “Had a lot on my mind.” You take the car keys from him and load up the car, seconds after the go ahead text from Dave. He huffs again as he enters the passenger side and starts droning on about how ‘he needs to know’ where you’re both staying that night. 

“You’ll know soon enough, baby,” you placate with a squeeze of his knee, “Heard great things about this place.”

The plan was for Dave to unlock the adjoining door on his side when Carol was in the bathroom but leave it shut so she wouldn’t know, and you were to do the same when you got into the room.

“You won’t tell me where we are going and you won't let me see the lingerie.” He grumbles. “I thought you were spoiling me.”

“Like I said you’ll see soon enough,” you smile, “We’re not too far from where we are staying.”

Tommy shifts uneasily as he watches his normal hotel come into view. “Here honey?” He makes it sound like that’s a horrible idea. “I’ve heard this place is a dump.”

“Oh no,” you say with a shake of your head, “It’s a five star hotel, honey, cost me a fortune but tonight will be worth it.” You say with a wink, come on, let’s get checked in. “Maybe we can order room service.”

Tommy plasters on a fake smile and chuckles. Praying that no one recognizes him. It would ruin his plan.

You notice how antsy he is as you check in and it makes you grin and shake your head. He cowers behind you at the check in desk and stares at the floor, refusing to make eye contact with anyone and practically running towards the elevator once you’ve got your keycard. 

‘Here.’ You text Dave in the elevator, pretending to text your mom. “God this hotel is gorgeous, I can’t wait to see our room.”

“Maybe we can just stay in our room all night.” Tommy manages, reaching out and snagging your waist. “Lock the world away.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetheart,” you assure him, “The plans I have for tonight, don’t involve you going anywhere.”

He’s relieved, planning on hiding in the bathroom when you decide to order room service. He can’t let anyone let you know about his plans, he’s not ready yet. Still needing access to the deed for the house. He wants to add himself to it so he can take it from you. It’ll be nice rental income, moving in with Carol and renting out that house.

You open the door and take a look around the room, unlocking your side of the adjoining rooms as Tommy has a “first look”  around the bathroom. You open your bag and start to take out a few bits, quietly calling him back in the room so Carol can’t hear you shouting his name. “Are you excited for tonight?”

“Depends on if you're going to suck my dick or not.” Tommy grins, thinking that he’s being romantic. The one bad thing about Carol is that she’s not willing to give him head if he doesn’t go down on her. Claiming that you might have understood, but she wasn’t a doormat. He missed someone sucking his dick.

“I promise that there will be some dick in this pretty little mouth tonight,” you tease, before picking up the blindfold and gag you had hidden in your purse, “Are you going to be a good boy and do as I say?”

Tommy’s brows shoot up. “What’s this?” He demands, grinning. “You never want to play.”

“Just thought we’d spice things up a little,” you reply softly, “I can feel you slipping away from me. I read some tips… you don’t want to?”

“No, no.” Tommy’s greedy. You might be boring in bed but you are also the only woman who has only had him. “I want to. I’m just surprised you want to. Sure you don’t want me to blindfold you?”

“Maybe later, but right now I want to do this my way.” Walking over, you untie his tie and motion for him to give you his hands, using the tie to restrain him. Before gagging, blindfolding and putting on his noise canceling headphones. 

‘Ready when you are!’ You text Dave after sitting Tommy down on one of the two hotel chairs and lightly restraining him to it. 

Lifting off one side of his headphones you whisper into his ears, “Good things come to those who wait.”

Dave hums, deciding that he would lift his own noise canceling headphones off Carol’s ear. She’s already tied up, but not in a chair. “Come on baby, I’m going to guide you.” He coos in her ear. “Trust me.”

You open the adjoining door after hearing Dave open his, and flash him a little smile as he guides Carol to the chair next to Tommys. 

“You ready?” You ask him, as he steps back and places his hand on the small of your back.

“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Dave doesn’t fucking care about them, they made their bed. But if you don’t want to do this, he can pull the plug and just snatch the rug out from under them without ever laying a finger on you.

Rocking up on your tiptoes, you place a fleeting kiss to his lips before nodding. “I’m ready, ready to follow your lead.”

“Do you still want to suck my cock?” Dave asks, reaching up and cupping your cheek.

“Fuck, yes, i’ve been thinking about it all day.”

He hums and pats your cheek lightly, “then strip down. I want you naked on your knees so I can fuck you right away when we get done indulging.”

“You don’t wanna rip this off of me in front of them?” You ask as you unbutton your sundress and let it fall to the floor, revealing the dark green lacy lingerie set you had picked out just for Dave.

“Fuck.” He hisses, cock twitching at seeing his favorite color on your body. “Never mind. Keep it on. I’ll strip.”

“Yes sir,” you say with a giggle, excited to finally feel his hands on you.

Dave strips down quickly, watching Tommy and Carol start to shift restlessly in their chairs. Antsy. He smirks and arches a brow when he shucks his pants and reveals his hard cock. “Sure you want to do this?”

“Holy shit, it’s gorgeous,” you choke out at the sight of his cock, “Fuck yes. You ready to take their blindfolds off?”

“Blindfolds and headphones.” He hums. “Not the gags.”

“Let’s go.” You walk towards Tommy and Dave walks towards Carol. On his signal headphones are removed and then masks. The look on your now ex-husbands face is a sight to behold. Both of them stare at each other in utter bewilderment as you take a step back and take Dave’s hand. “Hello, honey, how are you liking your surprise? Must be nice to see the woman you’ve been fucking for the better part of a year here with us and her husband too.” 

Dave chuckles and shakes his head as his face drops into a scowl at the two of them. They are completely frozen and panicked. "It's funny that you think we wouldn't find out." He tells them flatly before he turns to you. "Why don't we show them what it's like to watch your spouse fuck the neighbor?"

“I think we should,” you say with a giggle, as you perch yourself on the end of the bed. “Hurt them, how they hurt us.”

“Maybe they won’t give a shit.” The muffled protests coming from the two seems to disprove that, but Dave just leans in to press his lips to yours softly. It’s the first kiss he’s ever given you. When he pulls back he tells them that before smirking. “I want you on your knees, pretty girl.”

You ignore the sounds coming from that side of the room, and immediately get up and sink down to your knees. Looking up at Dave with your sweetest smile before gently holding on to the base of him, and placing a light kiss on the tip of his cock. The tip bright red and begging for release, you lick the bead of precum that’s gathered at the top and slowly wrap your lips around him. Not used to having something so big in your mouth, you moan at the stretch, taking him in just a few inches and swirling your tongue around him. 

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, looking down at you and cupping your cheek. “Take more of it. I know you can. But don’t choke. I’m going to fuck that pretty throat of yours.”

You do as he instructs as take him further into your throat, breathing through your nose and swallowing around him. Slowly bobbing up and down before taking him further, loving the firm grip he has on your face. You can feel yourself getting wetter the deeper you take him, the sounds he makes spurring you on and making you crave more.

“Unlike you two, this is the first time for us.” Dave groans, sliding his hand around to cup the back of your head. “So you get to enjoy the first time I fuck your wife since you’ve been fucking mine.”

You hollow your cheeks and suck as hard as you can as your nose just brushes against the patch of hair at the base. Drowning out the groans of annoyance from Tommy and Carol by moaning happily around him. Tears stream from your eyes as he keeps your head from moving, keeping you still as he feeds you the last inch or so of his cock.

Once Dave feels the back of your throat constrict around him, he pulls his hips back. “Fuck, I’m gonna enjoy this.” He groans, holding your head tights as he snaps his hips forward roughly and buries his cock in your mouth again.

You almost squeal as he fucks into your mouth, groaning in pleasure as you suck around him. Praising you for taking him so well, and telling you how pretty you look with his cock in your needy little mouth.

Both Tommy and Carol are struggling against the ties that bind them in the chairs. Shouting against the gags, but Dave doesn’t even pay them any attention. Focusing on you. “That pretty little pussy is wet, isn’t it?” He huffs. “Can’t wait to taste it. To lick you until you squeal my name.”

Looking up at him through your tear stained eyelashes you nod dutifully, a smile stretching across your already stretched out mouth. Before you resume your focus on his cock, bobbing your head to meet the snap of his hips, chasing more of those groans he floods the room with.

“You should have licked her cunt, Tommy.” Dave growls mockingly. “Now I’m going to and she’s going to realize what she’s been missing being with a piece of shit like you.” He smirks, looking over at his wife as she cries. “Can’t believe you put up with that shit. Especially since you know how good my tongue is.”

You pull off him and stroke his length, you’ve drenched the lacy material from sucking his cock alone and feel yourself flood the fabric further as he talks about eating you out. “Dave,” you say with a breathy moan, as you lick the weeping tip of him, “I need you.”

Smirking, he grabs your hand and helps you up, sliding his hand down between your legs possessively. “Fuck, you’re soaked baby girl.” He growls. “Want to see how much wetter I can get you. Gotta undress you first.” The panties are ripped off, pulling a moan out of you and he chuckles when the expensive green top also rips apart in his hands. The chairs are positioned so that the bed is on full display and he pulls you down onto it with him.

“I wanna show him,” you mumble, “I wanna show him how fucking wet I get when I actually want to suck a cock, I want him to see how you could slide right in with no fucking lube.”

“Shit.” Dave slaps your ass and smirks at the two spouses. “Never really thought about fucking her until we found out you two were cheating.” He admits. “So thank you.”

“Can’t say I didn’t think about Dave,” you admit with a shrug as you shuffle towards Tommy, opening your legs and letting him see your glistening cunt.

"I thought about it." He amends, "but I never considered doing it until now. Because I was fucking married."

“Same,” you shrug, “Shame that the people we married didn’t feel the same.” You shift back up and take his face in your hands, “I want you to do whatever you need to me, baby.”

"Fuck, I want you to sit on my face." Dave coos, reaching down to slide a finger through your folds and grins when you shiver. "Show you how a real man eats pussy."

“Yes sir,” you whisper before kissing him, watching as he lays down on his back and as he motions for you to move up. You lower yourself down slowly, hovering a few inches from his face.

“Fuck.” Dave groans, his cock twitching at the sight and he tilts his head back to look at Tommy. “Don’t know how you didn’t dive into this cunt every chance you got.” He huffs before he grabs your hips and pulls you down onto his tongue.

“Dave,” you yelp, as he slowly drags his tongue through your folds. Teasing your clit over and over. One of the hands finds purpose in his hair, tangling in his slightly overgrown style as the other grips onto the headboard. Your hips start to rock of their own accord, chasing your high, as a brand new sensation overwhelms you.

He flicks and curls his tongue, showing off for the cheating bastards who are still squirming and huffing through their gags, but also for you. Wanting to make the first time you’ve ever been eaten out memorable for more reasons than just showing up your cheating ex.

You can’t stop panting his name, moaning it over and over as you soak his face. It doesn’t take long until you’re hanging over the edge, seconds from cumming because of another person for the first time in your life. “So close, baby, so close.” You choke out through ragged breaths.

Dave groans, squeezing your hips and encouraging you to cum for him. Eager to taste it and to show your bastard husband that you deserved it.

With a few more flicks of his tongue against your clit, you’re cumming hard, flooding his face with your arousal as he pulls you apart in the most incredible way.

Dave groans and keeps you pressed against him, wanting to have you soak up every bit of your pleasure until you are sobbing his name out loud.

It doesn’t take long until you’re meeting his silent demand, and the yells shimmer down to you whimpering his name. You want to taunt your husband, tell him that’s what it looks like when you cum, but you don’t. You focus on Dave, moving yourself down him slowly and straddling his waist, before leaning back down and whispering the softest ‘thank you’ into his ear.

Smirking slightly, Dave nods. He’s not thinking about Tommy or Carol right now, he’s tuned them out. But he is thinking about you and how fucking wet you are, grinding down on his cock. “Can I fuck you?” He asks, even though you are on top of him.

“Please,” you plead, with a smile. “How do you want me?”

“Do you want to ride me to start out with?” He asks, caressing your hip.

“Can we build up to that?” You say quietly, “You’re huge. It’s going to be a stretch, I’m not used to anything like this.”

“That’s good,” Dave nods, knowing he doesn’t want to hurt you. “Lay down on your side, facing your loving husband.” He smirks, imagining the look on the bastard's face when he slides into you.

“Okay,” you nod, biting back the endearment hanging off the tip of your tongue. You do as he says, looking at your furious husband, feeling a shiver run through. Fearing what he might do once he’s unrestrained.

Dave curls around you, hand sliding up to cup your breast and then down to your thigh. “Don’t worry. He’s not going to touch you.” He promises, whispering in your ear. “I won’t let him lay a finger on you.”

Within seconds of feeling his touch, the fear is replaced with excitement and lust and the need to feel him slip into you. “Fuck me, Dave,” you plead, letting your eyes flicker up to your husband one more time, before letting yourself forget he’s in the room.

He chuckles quietly and lifts your thigh, bringing it back over his hip and opening you up to their view. “I’m going to fuck you. Been thinkin’ about fucking you for weeks. Imagining how tight and hot you’d be.” He kisses along your jaw as he slides closer and shifts to take his cock in his hand.

You let him mold you into the position he wants you, loving the way his hands feel on you. “God, me too. Fuck. Played with my pussy every night dreaming about this.”

The head teases your slit, sliding around and he hums. “Good.” He glances at his crying wife and your angry husband and smirks. “Let me know how it feels, baby.” He orders as he starts to push inside you.

You whimper as he starts to inch into you, the stretch of him feeling delicious. “Feels so good, baby,” you choke out, before placing your hand on top of his and squeezing. “So fucking big.”

“That’s it.” Dave growls, slowly rocking his hips and sinking deeper. “You’re taking it so good, baby. Squeezing my dick like a vice.”

“Fuck,” you moan, as he hits something new inside of you. Something that makes you clamp down hard around him and chant his name like sacred prayer, over and over.

He doesn’t start fucking you like it’s his last day on earth. Not yet anyway. He takes his time. Measured thrusts meant to make you cry out and yet he’s not giving it his all. Changing the pace and force often to keep things stimulated for you and remind Carol what she’s given up.

It’s nothing you’ve ever experienced before, someone chasing their high whilst chasing yours just as hard. With every moan, and flutter he praises you for taking him so well, for soaking his cock and squeezing him so perfectly.

His hands start to wander. Knowing that women love to be worshiped while they are having sex, his hands squeeze and grope adoringly. Forgetting about your audience, he concentrates on the breathless moans and whimpers that come from your throat. Seemingly made more desperate everytime he praises you.

“I think I’m go—,” is all you’re able to get out, before you clamp down around him hard and cum on his cock. Focusing on his sweet praises as you convulse in pleasure, feeling your sheets dampen beneath you as he keeps the same delicious pace throughout your high.

"That's it, fuck that's it, baby girl." Dave moans as he feels you cum all over him. "Soak my cock. Show me how fucking wet your little pussy gets when you cum." He huffs. "You needed this, didn't you? It's been so fucking long since you've really cum, hasn't it?"

“Needed it so bad,” you pant, as you come back down. “Never cum like that before. You want me to ride you now, baby?” You ask, as you pull his hand up to your mouth and gently kiss it.

"Yes." Dave pulls out of you and rolls onto his back, eager to feel you on top of him again. "Ride me, baby girl."

“I love it when you call me baby,” you say, as you straddle his hips and sink down onto him. Taking him inch by inch, until you’re filled with him. Slowly you start to rock your hips, building up to a pace that has him groaning your name. The sound of muffled cries and shouting drowned out both of your pleasure. His thumb finds his clit and he rubs gentle circles into it as you ride him, wanting to feel his cock throb against your tights walls that are fluttering around him.

You don’t bounce on his cock, or slam yourself back. It’s a slow grind that he finds himself grunting every time you circle your hips. He just keeps his eyes on you. Enjoying the way your own close and your head tilts back as you moan.

With every rock of your hips, he notches against paradise. Soft moans slip from your slips, as you chase your high again. Wanting to cum one more time before he does. Needing to feel him as much as you can, for as long as you possibly can.

One hand on your hip, another on your clit, he urges you to cum. “Come on baby, I know you can cum around my cock, again.” He groans, thrusting up into you shallowly. “Want to see it, beautiful.”

You rock your hips a little faster, chasing more friction from this hand on your clit and with a one word command for you to ‘cum’, you’re clamping down around him once more. Pleasure coursing throughout your body as he keeps you from falling forward, and continues to fuck up into you. Praising you for taking him for so well and fitting around him like a glove.

Once you have collapsed into his chest, Dave rolls you over and pushes your legs wider. Grunting as he takes over and his next thrust is hard enough to have you yelling.

“Fuck,” you scream, as he begins a breath stealing pace. “F-fill me up,” you beg, as he pounds in and out of you.

There’s renewed struggling and muffled screaming. Tommy most likely when he hears the plea for Dave to fill you up, but he doesn’t give a shit. Focusing on you and his own mounting pleasure as he fucks you hard and fast.

The sounds that are coming from you are unrecognizable. Brand new. Noises of pure unfiltered pleasure drowning out everything else. “Please,” you choke out, the word pained as another orgasm threatens to devastate your exhausted body. “Please, Dave.”

“Gonna- gonna cum.” He growls, clenching his jaw to push another few thrusts out of his body that screams for release. He knows you’re close again. He can feel it. Needs to see you do it again for his own selfish pride.

With little to no warning, he pulls you back over that edge with him. His thrusts sloppy as you clamp down hard around him, practically screaming his name as you milk him dry of his cum. He grits out a little praise in your ear, before groaning your name and wrapping his arms around you as you sink deeper into the mattress. 

Dave groans at the first piercing sound of his name, giving in and pushing deep as he starts to cum. Tightening his hold on you as he groans your name. Rolling his hips as he fills you.

“You feel so good,” you whimper as he paints your walls. You don’t want it to end, you want him to stay buried inside your desperate cunt forever. You can’t pretend that the past few weeks you haven’t been falling for him, and now being wrapped in his arms, you’re well and truly screwed. Literally.

“So good, baby. Fuck, that’s a tight little cunt.” He coos. “Never would have gone anywhere else if I had you in my bed.” It’s a shot at your husband, but it’s also true. He pulls back and presses his lips to yours before looking back at the cheaters still tied to their chairs. “We’re divorcing you both.” He announces.

“And you’ve already signed the papers,” you say with a smile, before immediately looking back at Dave. “Tommy gave me the idea. You were going to hand me an amended version of the prenup right? And this “dumb dutiful wife” was going to sign it without even glancing it over.”

Dave smirks when he sees Tommy’s eyes widen and his face drops. Discovering that his plot has been discovered. “Oops.” He hums sarcastically.

You giggle, before gently turning Dave’s face back towards yours and kissing him as hard as you can, a kiss that speaks a thousand words without saying any. “Thank you,” you murmur against his lips, knowing it’s time to face the music.

“Of course.” Dave sees the uncertainty and anxiety cross your face. He can tell you are scared of what might happen now that this is done. Pulling out if you gently, he sits up and looks towards the cheaters. “All your shit had been moved out of our houses to a storage unit. We’ll leave the keys, but you, especially you, Tommy-“ he growls, pointing his finger at the man. “Are not to come back tonight. Carol, you can come by and see the girls tomorrow. But you two enjoy the rooms.” He stands. “After we are dressed, I’ll untie you, Carol and you can untie Tommy after we’ve left.”

“You have no reason to come back to my house,” you say to Tommy, with a new found courage. “That’s why we drove your car. Don’t come back. I’ll see you in court with the video evidence of your cheating and your plans to fraudulently amend our prenuptial agreement.”

Dave ignores them as the two of you clean up and redress. Not even sparing them a glance. It feels freeing, setting out the papers and dropping the keys into a table before he smirks at you.

“Still ok to get a ride home?” You ask quietly, before he goes to untie Carol.

“Of course it’s okay, baby.” Dave stops and nods, giving you an encouraging smile before he moves back towards Carol.

You collect both yours and Dave’s things as he unties Carol, staying back just in case she decides to lunge at you. “Enjoy sleeping here tonight,” you say to Tommy, “This room will be the last thing I ever spend my money on you on. Sorry about the soaked sheets.” You add with a smirk.

Dave pulls off the gag and Carol sucks in a lungful of air. “Dave- Dave please, it’s not- I’m so sorry.” She sobs, leaping up out of the chair. “It was- God, I shouldn’t have done this.”

You see her leap towards Dave, and take another step back. “But you did,” you say quietly, “Both of you did this! For almost a year and the shit you said about us both, was worse than the fact you were fucking. You don’t deserve him and Tommy doesn’t deserve me.”

“I’m sorry Dave, I’m so sorry.” She reaches for him but he pulls back. 

“Don’t.” He warns her. “The day I found out you were fucking him was the day I was done with you.”

“Same with you,” you say to Tommy. “I mean it when I say that you’re not welcome in my home again.” Turning to face Dave, you reach your hand out for him to take, “You ready?”

“I’m ready,” he assures you, taking your hand and looking back at the other two people with a look of utter disdain for them plastered on his face. “I hope you two are happy together.”

You lead him out of the room. Hand tightly gripping his as you make your way to the elevators, and pressing the button. Wordlessly you turn to face him and rock up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

He’s surprised by the kiss but he doesn’t push you away. Instead, he’s wrapping his arms around you and leaning into it. Enjoying the fact that you aren’t crying like he had expected.

“I’m going to feel you for days,” you say against his lips, before pulling him for another kiss. Stepping into the thankfully empty elevator still attached to him, wanting to extend the moment for as long as you can.

“Do you-“ he pulls away and frowns. “The girls are at a sleepover and I told Kayla’s mom that Carol isn’t to pick them up. Do you want me to crash on your sofa? Make sure Tommy doesn’t decide to show up tonight?”

“Honestly, I was hoping you’d sleep in my bed,” you admit quietly, “But you don’t have to… if you’d prefer to crash on the sofa, you can.” 

“I wasn’t going to assume anything.” Dave chuckles quietly, reaching up and rubbing your back. “If you want me to be in your bed, I’ll sleep there.”

“I want you in my bed,” you say with a smile, “How are you feeling?”

“Indifferent.” He admits. “I’m angry for the girls, but I’m completely over Carol. Just cut the infection out and move on.” Maybe not the healthiest way to deal with things, but he managed. “How are you feeling?”

“Kids are super resilient and we both know that they love their Daddy, they’ll be okay.” You say with a squeeze of his hand, “I’m really good, great actually.”

“A good fucking will do that.” He teases, smirking at you slightly. “What are your plans for tomorrow night?” He asks suddenly.

“Yeah, I-uh-I could get used to that,” you mumble, “I’m free. How about you?”

“Well, considering I’m free and you’re free…” Dave shrugs slightly. “Thought I might take you out on a date. If you wanted. If not, I get it.”

“Sounds perfect,” you say with the biggest smile you’ve managed for weeks, “Do I get to wear something pretty?”

“Where whatever you want. Figured we’d go somewhere fancy to celebrate being free of them and decide what we want to do.” Dave hums.

“I like that, nice and breezy.” You say as he slips an arm around you as you make your way towards his car.

“To new beginnings, baby.” Dave jostles you slightly with a grin. “It’ll be ironic if we get together and are happy while they are miserable and don’t last a year.” He pulls his arm from around you and opens the door on the passenger side for you. “We’ll see, won’t we?”

“We will. Now that you and that incredible cock have completely ruined other men for me, I'm excited to see where it goes.” You giggle before thanking him for opening the door, “Thank you. To new beginnings.” You say as you smash your lips up against his.

Dave grins. Yes, your ex and his might have hurt you, but you are going to end up winning. He’ll make sure of it.

****

[A year later]

Life comes at you quickly. Your first date with Dave quickly became a 3rd, 4th and so on. The girls adapted quickly with their new changes and before you knew it, you were practically living with them.

He asked you to put your house up for sale and move in with him two months after your first date and a year on, life is perfect.

The sight of Dave napping comfortably on the sofa with your newborn son sleeping on his chest fills your heart. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so much more. 

It turns out that your ex-husband having an affair would be the best thing that ever happened to you.

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york imagine #dave york fic #dave york equalizer 2

[aurorawritestoescape]

FLAT LINE || dark!Dave York x f!reader || 800

18+ mdni DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non con, smut

creator chose not to use all the warnings

*****

His obsidian eyes are boring into yours, as you’re thrashing and wriggling, completely naked, while his hand on your throat is holding you pressed to the bed. Your legs are getting tangled tighter and tighter in the cold sheets, soaked with your and your boyfriend’s sweat and cum.

You two were having one of those nights, drinking, smoking and fucking on a loop until this monster slithered into your house and took a shot. Only one for now but you’re sure there’ll be one more.

You’re trying to push him off with your trembling hands, eyes darting between his bloodcurdling stare and the splatter of blood on your wrist. Soon you focus only on them as your mind tries to save you from seeing the whole picture-you’re dying tonight.

The killer lets go your throat, you cough and then try to scream but like in a nightmare nothing comes out of your burning throat.

When he’s done condescending you with this joke of a fight he grabs your hands and cuffs you to the bed. You haven’t done this with your boyfriend tonight but the images of him tying you up a few times before emerge from your memory and you gush more.

As if sensing this pathetic reaction of your body, the man spreads your legs and leers at your puffy cunt.

“You’ve had a fun night, sweetheart?”

His tone is calm, static like a flat line and your heart seems to stop beating, as if already giving up.

His fingers easily slip inside your stretched hole and you jerk and try to kick him off. The killer grabs your ankles and holds them pressed to his shoulder, one big hand is enough to keep your legs together.

He renders you completely helpless, hands chained to the bed, legs bound by his strong grip.

His fingers return to your hole and he pushes them deep into you, with the same cold dead eyes.

“How many times did he come inside you tonight?”

You mewl at the question, staring up at him, vision blurry with tears.

He quickly pushes your legs off his shoulder and holds them up. You squeal even before he slaps your cunt with the back of his hand. Hard. It burns like hell but your whole body buzzes as the stroke sends a wave of arousal from your overstimulated clit to every cell in your body.

“How…many?” He slowly repeats the question and you hurry to reply, scared of another hit.

“Three”

“Good,” he says and gently rubs your swollen pussy.

You half moan, half cry out as your walls contract at his touch.

He breathes in sharply when a trickle of creamy liquid flows out of your hole.

“She’s all used up and filled to the brim. Lovely.”You hear him say quietly and to your horror he opens his pants with a free hand and pulls out his cock. It’s hard and huge and you whine a pathetic ‘please’ which he leaves completely unnoticed.

He sits on his knees and then gets on top of you, your ankles still in his hand, caging your legs between his body and yours.

The killer plunges in fast and hard, quickly parting your walls with his thick long cock. He’s bigger than your boyfriend and you feel a sting of the stretch.

The man moans over you, pleasure twisting his face, very close to yours now. Hearing him you can’t stop your pussy from squeezing his length.

“So much cum, sweetheart. Feel it pouring out?My balls are soaked,” He whispers against your cheek, his soft lips tickling you.

“Please,” you mewl once again and once again it stays unnoticed.

He lets go of your legs and you don’t have time to react before he manhandles you into a mating-press, bracing his elbows on the bed by your shoulders and starts pounding into you. Your abused cunt burns at first but all the cum inside quickly turns the pain into pleasant stimulation and you chew on your swollen lips.

He growls and roars over your heated face and you squeeze your eyes shut with embarrassment hearing your pussy squelch loudly as his cock churns your boyfriend’s cum inside your cunt.

“Can she take one more?” You hear him growl and open your eyes in fear. If he comes soon it means you have only seconds.

“Please, please, let me go… don’t k…” his palm slaps over your mouth and he bites your cheek, making you squeal into his hand.

“Shut up. Daddy’s coming.”

A few more thrusts and you see him close his eyes as he stills while his warmth is spilling inside you. Then he rolls his hips, spurting his seed again and again until you’re so full of cum you feel it press on your walls already stretched out by his cock.

When he seems to be done, his lips brush against your stinging cheek and you feel cold metal pressed to your temple.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” is the last thing you hear.

*****

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs will make my praise kink go brrrr!

No tag list for this one. If you’d like to be tagged in my dark fics, let me know♥️

#dave york x you #dark!dave york #pedro pascal #dead dove do not eat #tw noncon #dave york x f!reader #dave york fic #dave york #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #I’m on my period ok #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york the equalizer 2 #dave york fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #tw dead dove #dead dove fic #dead dove #tw blood #tw death #murder daddy #dark fic #dark fanfiction #blurb #ficlet

[suzdin]

Belly of the Beast: Part I

Dark!Dave York x F!reader

Warnings: it’s Dave, so…buckle up! No use of y/n. Homicide with a gun, reader is shot and grievously wounded and dying, graphic descriptions of murder and gore, use of medical equipment/terminology, amateur triage and medical care, Dave is a voyeuristic creep, Stockholm syndrome?, physical restraints, partial nudity, divergence from EQ2 plot and major character deaths mentioned. No mention of wife or kids. No smut this time! (Shocking, I know.) Dark themes obviously, I mean, Dave DOES kill for money, after all.

Summary: You’ve been Dave’s housekeeper for two years. When you arrive for your morning shift, the last thing you expect to see is Dave standing over a body.

This was going to be a one shot but I decided it worked better as a two parter. Enjoy!

Word Count: 4,700

Taglist: tagging the people I know for sure want to be tagged. If you want to be tagged for part II, lmk!

@ohheypedrito @kateispunk @survivingandenduring @kellybelly1978 @awilderi @oberynslady @natdeandar @daddy-dins-girl @heavennumber2 @guelyury

—

The sky is still dark, a faint slice of jagged light cast across a slate colored horizon, when you arrive for the day at Dave York’s home.

You notice his car parked in the driveway as you pull in, checking your messages to make sure you hadn’t missed anything from him, finding nothing. You frown.

Normally, he would tell you when he would be home if he knew you were also going to be there that day. He simply must have forgotten to mention it this time. It wasn’t a big deal; you could just work around him like you always did.

He was gone for work more often than not. What that entails, you aren’t entirely sure of; all you knew was that he worked in D.C. Something bureaucratic, most likely.

What was even more curious than his unannounced presence, however, was a second vehicle parked behind his.

You pull up next to aforementioned vehicle and get out, gathering your bucket of cleaning supplies from the backseat. Dave provided most of what was used, but there were a few items you preferred for various reasons, with his approval, of course. You had been his housekeeper for the last two years, servicing his home bi-weekly, and he paid you well, plus tips. You had few complaints.

Although the home was large and stately, he lived alone as far as you knew. You couldn’t recall seeing anyone there before now.

As you walk along the edge of the driveway to the side door, you note the pale illumination filtering out through the kitchen window onto the concrete, which makes sense considering the time of day. He’s most likely just sitting down to have his coffee and breakfast. You hope you don’t startle him too much.

The sun is ascending rapidly, already burning brighter in the short walk from your car to the door, providing you with enough light to get your key out.

You unlock the side door, which steps directly into a small utility and mud room. The interior door to the kitchen is drawn shut, which wasn’t unusual, but an unfamiliar noise registers as you enter, immediately followed by what sounds like chair legs scraping along the tiled floor, and Dave’s voice saying what sounds like a name. Mac? Is that what you heard?

Your mind fumbles over the original sound, knowing it’s familiar, but that you can’t quite place it, trying to trace its source. You can best describe it as a muted pop, loud enough to notice but not so loud as to sound any alarm bells. Or so you think.

You smell the strong waft of coffee and eggs cooking as you enter. And something else.

The scene that is laid out before you as you push open the kitchen door is the last thing you would ever expect or want to find, and the realization of what the unidentified sound was hits you like a freight train.

What you discover is Dave standing above a body, pistol clutched tightly in his right hand, knuckles turning alabaster, with what you’re certain is a silencer screwed to the end of the barrel.

The body sprawled across the floor belongs to a man you don’t recognize, a pool of fresh blood spreading rapidly from a single gunshot wound to the front of the skull, bone and brain matter studding the kitchen island and wall, the stink of crimson iron filling the air.

Dave’s head snaps up when he hears you enter, his face gone pale, but otherwise completely blank and devoid of emotion.

Your eyes lock.

You think you say his name. You aren’t sure, and the only reason you know you’ve said anything at all is because you feel the muscles in your esophagus stretching and vibrating, your heart thundering inside your rib cage.

You’re smart enough to deduce that this isn’t some home invasion gone awry. The unknown car in the driveway and the trained, emotionless nature at which Dave currently presents himself is testament to that.

The only option left is that Dave killed a man. And now he has his sights trained on none other than you.

You drop the bucket of supplies, the hollow sound of plastic hitting ceramic reverberating in your skull as you turn, your brain screaming at you to run, run.

In hindsight, running was a bad idea. But panic doesn’t always create rationale.

You feel your legs pumping, your lungs sucking in air. You want to scream for help but when you attempt it, the only sound that comes out is a small, strangled croak of terror. You feel like a damsel in distress in every horror movie you’ve ever seen, almost as if you aren’t actually moving at all, like you’re just running in place while the villain slowly catches up to you.

If you could just reach the neighbor’s house. If you could just… reach…

You manage to make it to the driveway, but you’re barely a few steps onto the concrete when that same muted pop registers again, and you instantly feel a sharp, burning, agonizing sting that rips right through you like a hot knife through butter, knocking you ass over teakettle just paces from Dave’s car, your face slamming hard against the ground.

You look down to see the spreading circle of blood on your shirt against your lower abdomen, a geyser of red bubbling up from the wound. And Dave is on you in an instant, hovering above you, gun trained right at your head.

You know you’re a goner. Abdominal gunshots are frequently fatal, at least according to the kind of shows you like to watch. And at the rate you’re seeing your blood spill out, you know it’s anything but good.

Before you fully comprehend what is happening, your vision already waning, you’re pleading for Dave to end your life as quickly as possible, ‘please, please Mr. York, I’ve been good to you. Please do it fast’, you choke out.

But Dave doesn’t kill you. His dark eyes bore into you, through you, and he hesitates. He’s watching you die and beg for him to put you down and yet he can’t bring himself to actually do it, regardless of how many names he’s scratched out of his ledger without remorse. Maybe because you’re just an innocent, wrong place wrong time, but he can’t seem to do it.

“Please, don’t let me suffer,” you sob as you lift a single, quaking hand that is slicked deep burgundy, and still he doesn’t put you down, only lowering the gun to his side, and you can’t help but wonder what you did to deserve to suffer slowly like this.

Finally, some sense of self preservation washes over you, and even as you’re dying, in your final throes of desperation, you start ripping and clawing at your shirt, managing to somehow tear a sizable chunk out of it, in order to make some kind of makeshift tourniquet that could potentially save your life.

Your hands shake and slip, blood pressure dropping rapidly, and your vision wanes more, the edges of the lightening sky fading and blotting away. You suddenly feel very cold and you can feel your heartbeat gradually ebbing to a slow, dull throb.

The last thing you see before your vision goes completely dark is Dave crouching over you, his face screwed up in regret.

——

God damn it.

When Dave had found out only days before that McCall was still alive, and that his old compatriot had sniffed out the details shrouding Susan’s death, Dave had lost all sight of anything else, completely forgetting you were scheduled to clean his house that day.

Had he realized, he would have canceled. It would have made things far less complicated.

But God fucking damn it. He didn’t want to kill you, his militaristic training and instincts piloting his actions when you fled instead of surrendering, intending to put a round in your skull but changing his mind at the last possible fraction of a second so that he totally FUBAR’d the shot and hit your abdomen instead. A gut shot wasn’t much better. In fact, it was worse. Way worse.

You’re still breathing when he finishes applying the crude tourniquet that you had started, which didn’t completely stop the bleeding but slowed it enough to make a difference. That way, he could get you down into the basement where he could apply proper triage.

His medical training was rudimentary and archaic at best, but it was better than nothing. And it was his best chance at keeping you alive.

Your blood soaks through the light blue dress shirt Dave is wearing as he carries you through the house draped in his arms, the one you once told him looked nice on him. He takes you into the basement and places you on his work table — which isn’t sterile — noting no exit wound as he sets you down, which can be good or bad, all things depending.

Thankfully, he locates the bullet readily enough, fishing it out with a narrow pair of forceps, discarding it into a medical pan as he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees the bullet didn’t strike anything crucial, an incredibly lucky feat.

He grabs a skin stapler to close up the wound; a messy and rushed method of closure that would leave behind a pretty significant scar, but he didn’t have the luxury of time to close the wound properly with a needle, especially considering the rate at which his hands were already shaking.

He takes in a deep breath when he finishes stapling you back together and leans over you, examining your face and body visually, his mind racing as to what he should do now. You still had a pulse. You were breathing. But you had lost a lot of blood, and your prognosis wasn’t good.

Frowning, the crease deepening between his brows, he cleans and sterilizes the wound, wrapping you up in proper dressing, which he hopes is enough to stave off any infection. He can’t risk taking you to a hospital. Especially when there’s still a dead man to deal with only a floor above.

The good news is that he knew no one would come looking for McCall, the majority believing him to already be dead, so disposal would thankfully be swift and painless. You, on the other hand, he was unsure of. He knew your parents had passed and you didn’t have siblings, but he didn’t know if there was a boyfriend or girlfriend in your life, or friends who would notice your absence.

His mind reels with every possibility. Dave isn’t a man who enjoys loose ends. Loose ends make his ass itch.

Your shirt is shredded and bloody, so he removes the remainder of it, leaving you in a soft black cotton bra. He doesn’t let his eyes wander, although, at the back of his mind, he realizes he has always found you attractive. Just as quickly as it dawns on him, he shakes the thought from his mind; it is neither the time nor place for such endeavors.

He removes your shoes but not your socks, knowing you would be cold from having lost so much blood. He might actually put one of his pairs over your own, for good measure.

After a long beat of silent contemplation, Dave scoops you up into his arms once more.

——

You wake up from a fitful sleep some hours later, in a bed you’ve never slept in before. The room around you is dark, shades drawn, a faint light flooding in from beneath a closed door.

When you attempt to sit up, pain lances through your torso and you cry out, your back hitting the mattress. You immediately realize, much to your horror, that you’re also handcuffed to a bedpost. Even if you could move without effort, you aren’t exactly going anywhere.

Your memory suddenly comes flooding back in a tidal wave of images, recalling all of the events that lead up to this point; the body on the kitchen floor, the gunshot, Dave staring down at you with a pistol in his hand.

But you aren’t in a hospital and this isn’t a hospital bed. You’re in Dave’s bedroom. In Dave’s bed.

The door clicks open and a familiar silhouette steps into the room, regarding you in steely silence. You recognize the broad shoulders right away, the thick arms, the short cropped hair.

Your pulse quickens, your body and mind telling you to flee again, even though you know you can’t, causing you to flinch with a choked whimper when he takes a step toward you.

“I wouldn’t move, sweetheart. You lost a lot of blood,” Dave explains, his voice low and soft to your ears as he approaches the bed.

Your body is trembling hard. So hard that it makes the entire bed vibrate.

He’s no longer wearing the blue shirt or black slacks from before, now dressed in a slate gray t-shirt and Adidas sweats. His dark eyes study you as he sits next to you on the edge of the bed. If you weren’t so weak, you think you would strike him.

He lifts the back of his hand to your cheek and you flinch again.

“Shh,” he tuts, “I’m not going to harm you.”

His hand presses to the soft round of your cheek, your forehead, checking for fever.

“Y-you— you s-shot me—?“ you croak.

“I reacted poorly,” Dave agrees with a small nod, his lips parted softly, “but you also shouldn’t have run.”

“You k-killed… that man…”

“I did, indeed.” His eyes grow a shade darker, his brow knitting together, lending him a sinister appearance. “But that man was threatening me. That man was going to kill me…” Dave explains, an edge of malice and contempt to his voice. “I was left with few options.”

You stare back, unblinkingly, trying to decide what to say next, if anything.

“My family will come looking for me,” is what you settle on, a wash of bravery suddenly welling up within you.

To that, Dave smirks, eyes remaining dark, hand lowering to the bed by your hip.

“What family?” Dave asks, smirk slanting even more, his tone semi-mocking. “Do you really think I would hire someone to come into my home without doing a full investigation on them?”

Your jaw drops open, hanging slack in the air, as it dawns on you that a trained killer has been right under your nose this entire time. You would scream if you had the lung capacity to do so.

You should have seen the patterns. Noticed the signs. The constant travel, the lack of personal touches to his home, the pinpricks of blood you occasionally found on his clothes that you excused for other things. That one room in the basement he forbade you from entering.

But you hadn’t, causing you to nearly pay with your life.

Truth is, Dave had picked you for good reason, and it wasn’t just because of the exemplary reviews. You were naive and trusting, you had no family, no criminal record, you didn’t work for an agency; you worked solo. Your work ethic and reliability were just cherries on top.

You look down to notice the IV needle in your hand, and you lift it in examination, your hand shaking and sputtering weakly. No… no, you really had no clue who this guy was at all.

Dave watches you for a beat before he gently grasps your hand and places it back down on the bed, regarding you with uncharacteristic softness and empathy.

You feel your consciousness starting to drift then as Dave pulls the covers back to check the dressings, finding they’re still intact and that the wound hasn’t reopened from what he can tell. He’ll clean and redress everything in the morning. For now, you need rest.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells you, stepping out of the room for what feels like only a meager blip of time to you, but when you open your eyes again, he’s hovering above you once more with a thermometer and an ice pack.

“Open up,” he instructs, and you do so obediently.

“Good girl,” Dave praises as he checks your temperature, and you close your eyes.

When the thermometer beeps, which feels like an eternity later, he frowns, exhaling a long sigh. “101.5. Here,” he says, leaning to the side where he opens a drawer on the night stand, a bottle of aspirin rattling somewhere next to your head. The sound is grating, making your head throb, and suddenly the lamp seems too bright.

He feeds you some pills and gives you a drink of water from a nearby tumbler, which you guess was also on the nightstand, but aren’t too sure.

He pulls the blanket back up all the way to your chin and places the ice pack on your forehead, staring down at you. Although Dave was the reason you were even here at all, he is treating you with a surprising amount of tenderness.

“You need to eat,” he says after a moment. “Dinner is almost ready.”

——

You must pass out again, because when your eyes reopen, Dave stands next to you with a small tray table filled with food.

“Chicken and dumplings,” he explains. “It will keep the cold away.”

You nod your head weakly as he places the tray over you. When you reach for the spoon, he stops you, blocking your hand with his own.

“Let me,” he says, picking up the spoon. “I don’t want you moving anymore than necessary.”

You have to keep reminding yourself that he’s the one who shot you. He’s why you’re in this mess in the first place. Why you’re here, injured, with a hole in your abdomen, chained to his bed.

The way he’s acting shouldn’t be trusted.

You try to resist, but he grabs your jaw with the other hand and forces it to pop open, pressing the spoon past your lips as he ladles the soup into your mouth, much to your displeasure.

“Eat,” he says softly, but sternly, his features darkening in regard.

The food is warm, as promised, and delicious. You aren’t sure of the last time you ate, not knowing what time or even what day it is, but you soon realize you’re starving. Because of this, the second spoonful is not met with as much resistance as the first, your mouth hinging open in resignation and acquiescence.

Dave’s eyes zero in on your soft lips. The way they twitch ever so slightly as they divide. The way your tongue looks so velvet and inviting…

He feeds you slowly, thoughtfully, watching your every move, his own lips parted in concentration as you take in the much needed sustenance.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to polish off about half the bowl. Seemingly satisfied with that, he makes you drink some Gatorade.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask weakly as soon as you swallow down a couple gulps of the blue liquid, your consciousness ebbing and flowing by the second. Dave looks at your face, but he doesn’t give you an answer. He doesn’t have one to give.

Part of him wishes he did.

“I have to pee,” you tell him suddenly when you notice the familiar stab of discomfort in your lower region. A realization that sends a jolt of anxiety rushing through you, your pulse racing when you watch his face fall. He hadn’t even thought of that…

His skills and equipment were limited to wound care, so of course he hadn’t put a catheter in. He wouldn’t know how even if he did happen to have one.

He deliberates on what to do. He didn’t have a bed pan. But, he was sure he could find something comparable to use.

Or he could help you to the bathroom. He has an en suite, it was literally only steps around the bed. But the space was tight. It would take some maneuvering. And he would have to be close to you the entire time. Not to mention uncuffing you from the bed.

In the end, that’s what he settles on.

“Let me help you to the bathroom, sweetheart,” he says to you, pulling the blankets back, and you are cold. So cold. Your flesh pebbling with the lick of cool air against your skin.

He unlocks the handcuffs and you massage your sore wrist and shoulder the moment you have full motion of your arm again.

“Slowly,” he instructs, his voice low and even. “Grab the IV stand.”

You do as you’re told, gripping the cool steel in your hand as you grasp his forearm with the other while he gingerly manipulates you into a sitting position. You cry out at the sudden dagger of pain that slices through your lower gut, and he does his best to steady you against him.

He did this to you, you keep reminding yourself. He did this to you.

He lifts you carefully, slowly, and you groan at the swell of pain when he places you on your feet.

“Easy, easy…” he murmurs, one arm circling your waist to keep you upright. You flinch at the contact.

You make it to the bathroom easily enough, light flooding the small room as Dave flips the switch. A bathroom you’ve cleaned countless times. There was rarely much to clean in here, save for the occasional whisker in the sink, or some light trash in the bin.

Dave was neat and fastidious, and not frequently home. You often wondered why he needed someone to clean his house in the first place.

The space looks no different than usual, but right now it feels… different. You shouldn’t be here.

He guides you to the toilet, and when you get there, you stare down at it, pondering to yourself how this is going to work.

He seems hesitant to leave your side.

“Go ahead,” he tells you softly, “I won’t look.”

You freeze. The last thing you want is to expose your body to him when he already has several advantages on you. But your bladder is screaming at you to go, especially now given your proximity to the porcelain bowl, and you can barely stand on your own, your arms and legs wobbling.

You watch as he turns his back, placing himself between you and the exit. You bend just slightly to tug your bottoms down, but it’s too much, more pain coursing through your body. You yelp, unable to even budge the fabric.

“Hey,” Dave says, turning back to face you, “Let me help you.”

“No, I—I got it,” you protest, your arms shaking, attempting it again, only to end up with the same result. “Fuck—“

“Hey,” Dave says a second time, more sternly than before, as he moves in to your space. “Let me help. I promise I won’t touch you.”

You tremble. You’re cold, you’re frightened, you’re weak. So weak. You’re in your bra, partially exposed to him already. Yet, you concede with a nod anyway. You’ll piss yourself if you don’t.

He mirrors your nod in silent confirmation and moves closer, crowding into your intimate space, his fingers finding the waistband of your leggings and underwear. He slides them down your hips and legs in unison, all the way to your knees. As promised, he doesn’t touch you more than he needs to.

But he has to look. He needs to see where his hands are in relation to your body in order to keep himself from accidentally breaking his promise of touching you in a way you didn’t consent to, and another part of him just can’t help it, either. He is a man, after all, and he wasn’t currently seeing anyone. Romance wasn’t exactly optimal for someone in his position, his attention honed in on his work above all else.

When the nights were long and lonely enough, he would, on occasion, share his bed with a sex worker, but aforementioned nights were few and far between. He enjoyed his job. He got off on it. Romance was often placed on the back burner.

But there’s just something about you. Especially now, with how vulnerable you are, that he finds irresistible.

His gaze only lingers on your bared skin for a moment, big brown puppy dog eyes roving over your soft curves, holding on to you as he lowers you down to the commode. And, god, you’re just as beautiful as he imagined, his skin heating at the sight of your soft folds.

“Call for me when you’re done,” he grates quietly as he takes a step out of the bathroom, blood rushing to certain parts of his body, shutting the door to give you a modicum of privacy, which you’re more than grateful for.

His eyes on you had not gone unnoticed. You weren’t stupid and you weren’t seeing anyone either, currently; his attention, regardless of how brief, had made your skin heat and your core pulse with need. You clear your throat and try to discard the thought.

Dave is why you are here. Dave is dangerous. So dangerous he can’t even take you to a hospital to get proper medical attention. Stop it.

It feels like you pee for ages. You aren’t totally convinced you’re awake for most of it. Eventually, you finish, even managing to wipe yourself, in spite of things, which you’re relieved for. You wouldn’t want him to do it for you; that would be humiliating and degrading.

You call for Dave when you’re done and he returns in an instant, hoisting you to your feet as he pulls your pants and underwear back up and over your hips, trying not to think about your soft cunt. You can see how hard he’s trying not to look at you.

“Good?” he asks. You nod.

Bracing yourself against him, he helps you back to the comfort of the bed. It smells like him, despite how little he’s actually in it. You hiss through your teeth as he manipulates you into position, adjusting the pillows and covers until you’re as comfortable as possible.

You’re cold. Freezing, in fact, despite it being the swell of summer.

“I’m c-cold,” you lament to Dave, crossing your arms over your chest beneath the blanket.

Dave’s lips pinch to the side in thought. “Hold on.”

He returns a moment later with an extra blanket, tossing it over you, tucking the edges neatly around your form, taking extra care to be gentle, noteably around your abdomen.

As you watch him, his face and eyes soft, his hair mussed and unkempt, you ask yourself once again why he’s doing all of this for you.

Guilt? Shame? Something else?

You don’t have much time to ruminate on it for too long before your consciousness peters away once more.

——

Dave sighs as he watches you slip back into listlessness. You’re doing better than he anticipated, but you aren’t out of the woods yet. He knows how much blood you had lost; he’d spent hours cleaning it. Not to mention McCall, the remains of which he had delivered to an acquaintance who works at the industrial incinerator on the outskirts of town, after tending to you.

He loops your hand back through the cuff on the bedpost and peers down at you. You’re so beautiful; he hopes you make it. He wishes you hadn’t run from him. God, why did you run? He doesn’t want you to meet the same fate as McCall. He doesn’t want to know what your incinerated body smells like.

Every body has a different smell, in his experience.

He gives you another dose of morphine to reduce any pain you may be feeling and to keep you knocked out for a few more hours, checking for fever again, which is currently holding steady. It was good that it wasn’t going up. Any higher and you could potentially be in trouble. He’ll keep checking throughout the night to be on the safe side.

He sighs, knowing he’ll have to stay in town for weeks, which he detested doing. He hated staying in one place for longer than required. But he didn’t have much of a choice at this point.

He turns off the light and shuts the door behind him as he leaves you to rest.

Part II coming soon!

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #writing #fanfic #romance #dark romance #pedro fanfic

[wannab-urs]

Only Good Girls

Summary: Dave reminds you why you should always be a good girl for him. 

WC: 1.3k

Warnings: PWP/plot what plot, Reader has hair that can be pulled; fingering f receiving; squirting; multiple orgasms; overstimulation; choking; rough sex as punishment; unprotected p in v; mirror sex; bondage (necktie around the wrists behind the back); toaster strudel not a twinkie; excessive hair pulling, see A/N 1

A/N 1 (Important): This is technically really bad BDSM because there are moments where reader would be completely unable to safeword; however, we are going to suspend disbelief and assume they have some sort of system worked out. This is a pre-established dom/sub relationship with safewords, expectations, and limits all negotiated prior to these events. Additionally, I didn’t write the aftercare into the fic. Dave cleans reader up, wraps her in his arms and cuddles with her for a while, makes sure she’s hydrated, and takes a nice soothing bath with her. He’s a good dom! Everyone is happy and having a good time. Promise. 

A/N 2: What happens when a bunch of horny bitches start sending each other tumblr posts about choking, hair pulling, mirror sex, neckties, and dave york? This happens. Inspo is mostly from this post. posting at 6 am bc i think it's funny to post insane smut at the buttcrack of dawn.

Dave York Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Dave grabs your shoulders and spins you to face the floor length mirror. He’s fully clothed in his suit from work, behind your completely naked figure, and you feel yourself get wet from the sight alone. 

You watch his reflection as he slowly unknots his tie. He pulls it from around his neck and runs the length of silk through his hands. 

“Hands behind your back.” 

You comply immediately, not wanting to make your punishment worse. He wraps the tie around your wrists and slips two fingers between the fabric and your wrists.

“Too tight?”

“No, sir.” 

“Kneel,” he commands. 

The hardwood bites into your knees as you drop to the floor in front of him. You meet his eyes in the mirror. You feel yourself get even wetter as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and slowly, carefully, rolls each sleeve up to his elbows revealing his tanned, muscular forearms. 

He unbuckles his belt, grabs the buckle and pulls it free of his belt loops. You jump as the metal buckle clangs on the floor beside you. He grabs your shoulders and guides you forward until your face is pressed into the floor. 

You hear him settle on his knees behind you before two of his thick fingers plunge into your pussy without warning. You cry out at the sudden intrusion. Dave brings a hand down on your left ass cheek.

“You will be silent unless I ask you a direct question. Do you understand?” His voice sounds completely unaffected. Bastard. 

“Yes, sir,” you whimper.

He curls his fingers against your front wall and starts pumping rapidly. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to hold back a scream. You can’t squirm away in your current position, forced to take the overwhelming sensation. You roll your lips in, squeeze your eyes shut, and will yourself to stay silent as he catapults you over the edge. Your fingernails dig into your palms as your body seizes around his fingers and your juices coat his hand. 

He doesn’t even give you a moment to relax before he’s fucking his fingers into you again, this time using his other hand to assault your clit. You start to think he’s going to punish you by giving you so many orgasms you never want to come again. 

The sound of your soaking wet cunt fills the air as he plunges his fingers into you again and again. You try to rock your hips back into him, but he has you pinned in place. You bite your lip so hard you taste copper, wanting so badly to stay silent and please him. You’re so fucking close. Your body is a tightened coil on the verge of snapping. A small whimper escapes you as another wave of pleasure courses through your body. 

His hands leave you immediately, and a pitiful whine falls from your lips as your high is snatched away from you. 

“Quiet, little one. Or I’ll have to gag you.”

You nod, your cheek dragging on the floor. Dave brings his hand down on your ass again, harder than before, and you clench around nothing

“Yes, sir!” 

Dave sits back on his haunches. You’re spread out in front of him, holes on display for him, arms quivering in their tie, shoulders heaving with your shaky breaths. Beautiful. 

He opens his dress pants, pulling his cock out and stroking it with the mess you made on his hand. Moments later you feel his blunt head swiping through your folds. He presses slowly in, making sure you feel the drag of every inch of his thick cock.

It feels like hours before he’s buried to the hilt inside you. He fists one hand in your hair and wraps the other around your throat, pulling your head back until you’re gazing into the mirror again.

“Look at you, pretty girl. All stretched out on my cock. Does it feel good?” 

Your eyes slowly focus and you see his broad frame behind you and your body molded to his liking by his hands. Your cunt spasms, squeezing his cock like a vice. 

“Feels so fucking good, sir,” you moan. You’re starting to wonder how this is a punishment.

He draws his hips back achingly slowly and then plunges into you so hard you think your ass will be bruised from his hip bones. Your breath is audibly punched out of you. He jerks your head back a bit further, forcing your back to arch as he slams his hips into you again. Oh fuck. 

He sets a brutal pace, slamming into you over and over. He uses his grip on your throat and hair to keep your eyes on him, his fist in your hair tightening every time you start to close them. You try and fail not to let out a scream when the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. His hand tightens on your throat, until the only noise that can escape is a pathetic gasp for breath. 

He pulls your back to his chest by your throat and fucks up into your soaking cunt, his cock pounding into your spongy front wall. He grunts into your ear with the force of his thrusts, driving you even wilder. Your core tightens around his cock, your whole body feeling like a coiled spring, until finally the tension snaps. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as wave after wave of pleasure wracks your body before you go limp in his arms.

He lets go of your throat and you’re held up only by his punishing grip on your hair. He drops you back onto the floor, limp as a rag doll and still speared on his thick cock. His left hand grips your hip so hard it will leave fingertip shaped bruises in your flesh, and his right hand wraps around the tie on your wrists. His thumb strokes your hip almost tenderly as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you. 

“You’re allowed to scream now,” he says menacingly. 

He growls as he drags you by your wrists back onto his cock. He sets a pace just as brutal as before, filling the room with the sound of your ass colliding with his thighs and your screams of ecstasy. Your whole body feels wrung out like a used dish rag, but he feels so fucking good inside you that you don’t care. 

He drags you back into him over and over, loving the way you give your body over to him completely. He brings his left hand down on your ass cheek just to hear you moan. You want to beg him to let you come again, but all you manage is a weak please groaned into the floorboards. 

“Come on baby. Give me one more,” he groans, as if he read your mind. 

His hand snakes around the front of your body and finds your clit, dragging rough circles on it as he continues to bury himself inside you. It’s only moments before you’re coming again, sobbing and babbling thank yous and curses. Your body convulses, trying to curl in on itself, to escape the overwhelming feeling of him inside you, but you still whine when he pulls out. 

He lets go of you completely and you collapse onto the floor in a heap. You hear the wet sound of his fist on his cock and realize what he’s doing. 

“Sir, please!” 

His hand once again meets the flesh of your still stinging ass cheeks and you let out a pathetic sob into the floorboards. He strokes his cock until you feel the wet spurts of his cum cover your ass and thighs. You turn your tear soaked face up to look at him, about to ask why he didn’t come inside you, but he beats you to it.

“Only good girls get filled up.”

#Dave York #Dave York fics #Dave York fanfiction #Dave York x reader #Dave York x f!reader #Dave York x you #Equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #ppcu fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedrostories

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄.

DAY TWO OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"

pairing: childhood best friend!dave york x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: The only good thing about coming back home with your fiance is getting to see Dave York again, your best friend since you were four.

word count: 4.6k

warnings: angst, abusive fiance, verbally abusive family, hurt/comfort, neighbor au, childhood friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), dacryphilia, blood, you and dave kill your fiance, then crawl to him because why not, soft gun kink, possessive!dave

a/n: this is not edited at all but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway

The only good thing about coming back home is getting to see Dave York.

His family moved in when you were four, and you've been close friends ever since. Both of you moved away at around the same time; he became a CIA operative and got married, while you were still trying to figure yourself out. Your family wasn't supportive of this "self-discovery" stage in your life, which didn't really surprise you. They had never been supportive, always reminding you of your failures.

Then you met Chris, got engaged, and for the first time, your family was happy. Shortly after, you heard about Dave's parents passing away, followed swiftly by the CIA terminating his program. His divorce had been finalized earlier this year. You called him, letting him know that if he needed anything, he should reach out. He assured you he'd be okay, finding other work and moving back into his parents' home.

Ever since you heard he was back, you've been excited.

But now that you’re here, standing at his door, you feel like you’re four again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings tickling you from the inside out. How long has it been since you’d last seen him? It’s been too long, for sure. 

Dave is one of those friends that you could just continue from where you left off no matter how long time had passed. It’s just like pressing the pause button on a remote. It doesn’t require effort to feel close to him again, and you’re glad of it. Dave had been your rock during your teenage years, when you’d been adamant about crying yourself to sleep, he would throw pebbles at your window. It would always surprise you how he’s just known you needed him. It didn’t take you much convincing to leave your room and the two of you would venture on into the darkness until morning. Your parents non the wiser.

Those nights were your favorite. 

Heat licks at your spine, the tips of your ears burning when your mind drifts to a night that smelled of the salty sea. If you think about it hard enough you can still feel the sand caressing your back while Dave pushed deep inside you, his mouth feasting on your neck as the waves tickled your feet. 

God, you’d give anything to return to that night. 

Taking in a sharp breath, you finally knock on the door. The sound echoes and soon, you hear steps coming closer and closer, every thud making your heart skip a beat. 

With the door opening, you feel a gentle rush of cool air caressing your face, a scent that smells so purely of Dave following through. Without noticing you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the familiar smell. Your eyes flutter shut. In hindsight, thinking about the night you lost your virginity probably wasn’t smart. You wonder if it would still feel as good. 

When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you with an amused smile, eyes twinkling like he knows the precise memory you’re thinking about. 

“Dave!” you exclaim and throw your arms around his broad neck. He's bigger now, taller, and notably more muscular. He hugs your tight and lifts you slightly off the ground, your toes brushing against the patio, biceps flexing against your frame. 

He squeezes you one last time before loosening his grip, your body slides against his, your tight nipples brushing against the width of his chest. A gasp parts your lips, a gentle tremor to your legs. You purposefully brush your nose into the crook of his neck and take a deep breath in. “God, I missed you,” you murmur. 

“I’ve missed you too,” his hands remain on your waist, eyes briefly scanning to see if there’s anyone with you. When he sees there’s no one, he raises a sole brow. “I thought your fiance came with you?” 

Despite yourself, your frown is instant, your stomach clenching painfully, “He did,” you answer. “He’s with mom and dad, getting pampered.” 

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Sounds fun. So. . . they like him?” 

“Surprisingly yes,” you smile. “I don’t think I could’ve brought him here otherwise.” 

He hums and pulls himself back, you want to follow his touch but stay rooted in place. 

“I’m a bit worried if your folks like him so much,” he scratches his chin. “Do you like him?” 

The question gets under your skin, festering inside of you like a nasty wound. You look away. “He’s okay,” you say dismissively and quickly force a smile. “ “Do you want to join us for dinner?” 

Dave’s question had bothered you more than you thought. 

You’ve never had anyone burn for you, never had anyone willing to move heaven and earth for you, never had anyone who’d do anything to see you smile. You never experienced the love you’ve read about in books, and after a while, you just stopped looking for it. Women like you don’t receive that kind of love; women like you don’t get the hero or a prince.

After you’ve found Chris, you thought that’d be as good as it’ll get. 

Honestly, you were quite surprised when he proposed, your relationship was mediocre at best. You blamed yourself for thinking like that. You’d always been a dreamer. Someone who had their head in the clouds. And since your parents loved him so much, you were inclined to say yes. Not because your parents controlled your every move or something like that, it was just nice for them to finally spare a compliment, even though the said compliment was depending on you finding someone that would typically not spare a glance at someone like you—according to them. 

You head for the kitchen, helping your mother set the table. She says nothing as she shoves four plates into your waiting arms. You drag your feet to the dining room. 

It shouldn’t have surprised you that the things you disliked about Chris only heightened after the engagement. Sarcastic remarks and condescending tones turned into full dismissal of your opinions and talents. Venomous comments that were made behind closed doors became a part of his normal interaction with you among friends and family. No one seemed to care. Only a couple of friends had come to warn you, or offer help, but you felt ashamed, embarrassed to reach out to people who didn’t know how mess of a person you were—how broken. They didn’t know that to a degree, you might’ve deserved the insults. 

Unlike Dave, talking to Chris wasn’t easy. It was a constant mental exercise and took the fun in being with someone. You had to be sharp always, if not, he’d happily remind you how worthless you are in the guise of a joke. 

Letting out a sigh, you place the last plate down on the table. Chris comes up from behind you, sneaking his arms underneath your own and tugging you to his chest. 

“What are you sulking about?” he asks, the lips that touch your skin making you flinch. “

“You know it’s hard for me coming back here,” you answer. “I kinda wished you’d hang around instead of hanging out with my dad.” 

Much to your relief, Chris pulls away, “I like your dad,” he says. “Besides they’ve been nothing but kind to me so I don’t get why you want me to treat them like a beast I need to defeat.” 

Your eyes drop to his hands. He’s flexed his fingers outwards and balled them into fists. The rest of him is calm, relaxed, every part of him except for his hands. Your body goes rigid. You don’t know what to say to him. You’ve explained your childhood a million times; a mother who reminded you of every physical flaw, a father who just wasn’t around, only showing up during important accomplishments. You understand why Chris likes them so much, the three of them are basically the same. 

“I’m not telling you to fight with them,” you murmur. “Just wanted some support because they’re not kind to me.” 

“God, what do you expect?” he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “They have a daughter who’s still trying to ‘figure things out’. Be grateful you’re not my daughter, I'd be furious.” 

“It’s not like I’m taking their money,” your gaze snaps to him, piercing. “Nor yours, for that matter. So I can do whatever I want.” 

He whistles, lips curling into a nasty grin, “Someone’s feeling courageous. I thought you needed my support? Seems like you’re able to defend yourself just fine.” 

You hear the blood rush in your ears, your knees shaking with frustration. It’s always the same—that smug look he gets whenever you decide to stand up for yourself. 

Your lips pressed tight, you turn your head away. He’s right to a degree though. You’re feeling surprisingly brave for someone who’s been silent for months— as if by the night you won’t be climbing into his bed. You have a sense of why that is. Dave always made you want to believe in yourself, unlike the ones closest to you, he made you think you were worth the trouble even though you know you probably aren’t. 

The silence growing between you, Chris closes the distance with a short amount of steps, he hooks two fingers under your chin, and forces your gaze back to him, “No no, don’t go silent now. I like it.” 

The tension in the air suffocates you. It tastes like poison on your tongue. Chris draws mockingly soft circles over your skin, taunting you. You don’t feel small, not exactly, you just feel powerless, as if he’s ten feet tall. Your teeth bites into the smooth surface of your inner cheek. He leans closer and his breath hits your face. He’s going to kiss you, you’ve enjoyed plenty of those kisses in the past but right now you’re the furthest away from ever wanting him to kiss you. 

A loud knock intervenes perfectly. 

But Chris doesn’t pull away. 

“That’s right, we were expecting company weren’t we?” he rolls his tongue. “Who was it again? Your childhood friend?” 

“Dave,” you breathe out, relief swarming you like soft feathers. Chris is about to pull away so you can go answer the door but before he gets the chance the door opens with a soft click. 

Both of you turn towards the sound. Dave stands at the threshold holding a bottle of wine, eyes flitting between your and Chris. 

“Hey, there,” Chris chirps, all of his fault behavior disappearing into the air. “You must be Dave, nice to meet you!” he extends a hand. Dave, is eyes still fixed on you, accepts your fiance’s hand and squeezes it. Tight. 

“Nice to meet you. Chris, was it?” 

“Right on,” Chris walks around him and shuts the door. “Let’s head to the dining room, we’re about to eat. Isn’t that right?” 

It takes you a moment to realize the question is directed at you. 

“Right,” you murmur, your eyes dropping away from Dave’s. “I’ll go check with mom. Be back in a sec.” 

Just as you’re about to leave, Dave’s voice stops you, “Need any help?” the tension that dissolved settles back over your shoulders. You turn slightly, enough to see him. A brief shadow crosses his face, making home in his eyes—you blink. You find yourself swallowing hard as his gaze causes your throat to contract.

“I’m good thanks. Make yourself comfortable.” 

You haven't cried in months. Not when Chris taunted you, not when your mother made unnecessary comments about how you should be. None of it fazed you anymore. Not the same way it did when you were a kid.

So why are your eyes suddenly teared up now, struggling to hold back?

“Mom, stop it.” 

All eyes turn to you; Chris’s, your father’s and Dave’s. You swallow around the knot lodged in your throat. You mother narrows her eyes, lips a tight line. 

“Stop what?” she asks, voice strained. “I just said I can help you threading those stuborn hairs above your lip.” 

Embarrassment settling at the base of your spine, you cover your mouth with your hand, absolutely mortified. You fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and instead attempt to calm your racing heart. You can’t tell if you’re overreacting or not. Your mom rolls her eyes, waving a hand, she dismisses your emotions entirely. A tremor overhwhelmes you, starting from your legs and going all the way up to your shoulders. Dave’s sitting right next to you, his expression indifferent, calculating. He’s the last person you want to look at right now, finally you two meet up again after years only for him to see that nothing’s changed. 

“You and Dave have been friends since four, I doubt he cares if I mention it. It’s for your benefit,” she shrugs and turns to Chris, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be sure she’s proper by the time of the wedding. She’s always been horrible at stuff like this, I never understood why.” 

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. 

Your ears are ringing. 

Tears well in your eyes once more, the need to throw up overhwhelming you. 

“I’m not a prized calf, mom. I don’t need your help.” 

Her eyes turn back to you, momentraily dropping to your plate before looking back up again. “Have you decided on a dress?” 

Your brain short circuits for a moment. You want to throw your fork at her as always your dad is silent, and Chris is no help whatsoever. Sometimes you feel as if he enjoys this visits. Enjoys making you see that he’s not all that bad—or he justs enjoys using it as an excuse to show that if everyone in your life behaves like this, something must be wrong with you. 

Then, suddenly, there’s a soothing presence on your knee. 

Dave. 

He squeezes twice, then circles his thumb over your knee, replacing the anxiety with pleasant tingles. You blink with surprise and turn to look at him but he’s staring at your dad, you hadn’t even realize the conversation had shifted from you to something else entirely. 

Dave leans into your ear, his breath welcome as it ghosts your skin, “Breathe,” he whispers. “And excuse yourself from the table. I’ll find you.” 

Your nod is barely noticable. You do as he says, excusing yourself and heading upstairs. No one really took notice of your absence, they believes you to be dramatic and they were no strangers to you suddenly deserting the table. 

You sigh as you climb the stairs and instead of your shared bedroom with Chris, you head to your childhood bedroom. 

Climbing into your old bed, you pull the pillow to your front and wrap your arms around it. Street light stretches shadows into your room. You remember the times you stared into Dave’s bedroom, how he’d talk to you through giant notes. 

Ten minutes later, your door opens. 

“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, every word spoken carefully, scared you’ll bolt through the door like a spooked deer. He pushes the door closed and takes a seat at the end of your bed. You notice his eyes scanning the bedroom. “Brings back memories,” he mutters. 

“Yeah,” you nod, hugging your pillow tighter. “Bet you didn’t miss the mess downstairs though.” 

“To be honest I got a little preview before you and Chris arrived,” the muscle above his jaw twitches. “Your parents really haven’t changed in the slightest.” 

“Too bad they didn’t die instead of your parents—” you cut yourself short, clamping a hand over your mouth. What the fuck is wrong with you? “Shit sorry–I didn’t—” 

He says nothing. Instead he wraps his fingers around your ankle and tugs your leg over his lap, “Don’t be. I wish the same thing too sometimes,” he lets out a breath. “Never would’ve thought you’d get engaged with the combination of both of them though.” 

Shame. All you feel is shame. 

You slightly tug at your leg but he doesn’t allow you to recoil from him. “Let me help you,” he says, taking you by surprise. 

“Help me?” you ask. Without thinking you let go of your pillow and move towards him, entranced by the way the light sharpens the edges of his face. “Help me how?” 

“Let’s kill the fucker.” 

“W-What?!” surely you didn’t hear him right. You shake your head. “Did you just say kill?” 

With a tender brush of his lips against yours, the world falls away. A doft whimper echoes in your throat and he presses forward, the tip of his thumb tracing the seam of your lips. You open wide for him, allowing Dave to lick deeper into your mouth. Your tongue press together, years of longing and wait adding to the kiss like salt in chocolate. You don’t ever want it to stop. 

“I still hear the waves from that night,” he murmurs, soft pillowy lips brushing against your own. “Tell me to stop and I will. But if you want this, want me—All you have to do is say the word.”

Again, tears well in your eyes. It’s sudden and uncomfortable. You choke on the words you attempt to speak, shaking your head violentls as a shudder rolls down your spine. He presses a comforting palm on your cheek. “Dave I’m a mess,” you hiccup.  

“So am I,” he says matter-of-factly, he grinds the pad of his thumb into your cheekbone. “You can cry, sweetheart. I’m here for you.” 

Before you get the chance you’re being pushed back against the mattress. He slowly tugs down your pants, removing them enreily and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. He stares at you like you’re everything he wants and needs. Your skin prickles, his words finally settling in. 

This man wanted to kill for you. 

And not a bone in your body wants to object to it. 

“You’re not broken,” He pushes your shirt up, laying a kiss on your stomach, a bit of tongue following the purse of lips. “Every part of you is perfect, tender, and right.” 

The damns break with a hiccup. Tears flow effortlessly down your cheeks; salty drops going down your neck and being absorbed into the fabric underneath. You swallow, over and over, it’s difficult to breathe, so hard to catch your breath while your eyes never seem to dry out. 

Dave hovers above you, arms caging in your head. His gaze reminds you of a curious cat, wide, observant. He leans in and with the flat of his tongue, he tastes the sadness on your skin. He follows the traces down your neck, nose caressing your jaw as he licks all of it away. You feel the thick outline of his cock against your bare stomach, arousal heats between your legs and when you arc your back, he groans at the way you soft flesh grazes his length. 

He moves lower and lower, kissing a trail from between your breasts and all the way down to your quivering cunt. He tastes your through your underwear that dampened with arousal. Dave pushes his tongue, forcing himself deeper, groaning at your taste before pushing the fabric down to your knees. 

“I couldn’t help you back when we were kids—with your family,” he mutters into you, his breath chilling your wet folds. “Let me help you now.” 

His lips trace your folds, slipping his tongue and kissing your where no one has ever kissed befor leisurely. Dave takes his time with it, slipping his tongue and pulling it back like he’d do with your mouth. Your crying subdues into loud sniffles and his hand reaches out, cupping your chin. “Cry for me, baby. Don’t hide your sadness from me.” his grip tightens and nips the sensitive flesh right under your pelvic bone. “Cry.” 

You do so with a hitch of breath. However, your cries swiftly shift into moans when he closes his lips around your clit, sucking loudly at the sensitive nub. Your legs brackets his face, with a smile he spreads them open with both hands, moving his jaw as he glides his lips back down, pushing his tongue against your pulsing entrance. 

“You know what my biggest regret has been all this time?” he muses, the words don’t register but you nod anyway. He brings a hand to your mound and slips a finger in, curling it knuckle deep. Your chest heaves at the pressure, making your entire upper body jolt. “Not tasting this sweet pussy the first time we were together.” 

Daves crawls back up, pressing lips to your neck and then to your cheek where the tear streaks had begun to dry. “I wanted to do so many things that night, but you were looking at me with those big beautiful eyes, completely in love. . .” he takes a deep breath, and growls as he exhales. “I wanted to ruin you but I coudn’t, I didn’t want you to think that was all I wanted from you.” 

“What about now?” you gasp, gaining a moment of clarity. He chuckles, the sound resonating deep from his chest. 

“Now,” he purrs and goes down you again, licking a fat stroke into your cunt. “I still want to ruin you. And I will. But you’ll know that’s not all I want. Isn’t that true, my sweet girl.” 

Again, your vision blurs with tears. 

“Answer me.” 

“Yes,” you stare at the ceiling, your eyes drying out whilst tears still drip from the corners. “I know that’s not all you want. Please, Dave, ruin me. I’m yours.” 

“I know you are, sweetheart,” his tongue delves between your soaked folds, the curve of his nose causing delicious friction against your clit. Pleasure tightens in your stomach, your inner walls squeezing his finger tight. “You’ve been mine ever since I laid eyes on you.” 

He sucks and slurps, moving his head from side to side as he quickly brings you to the edge. His mouth feels so damn good, and the raw emotions coursing through your veins only add to the pleasure, heightening your senses. You cry out as he pulls out his finger, only to replace it with his tongue, pushing deep. When you look down the bottom half of his face is buried gully into your pussy, the only visible movement being his jawline moving. 

Sweat beads at your forehead. Your heart is pounding, your breath ragged as Dave increases the tempo of his tongue, exploring every inch of you greedily. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, rubbing and massaging your clit expertly and sending sparks of pleasure electrifying through your body. The sensation is overwhelming - so much pleasure, it's almost too much.

The pleasure builds and builds until it feels like it is consuming every inch of you, making it hard to remember that your family—or Chris—might hear you. You close your eyes and let out a moan as Dave continues to work his magic. Your back arches as the pleasure intensifies, and each breath feels like a jolt of lightning shooting through your body.

“Let them here, baby,” he rasps, briefly parting from you. “You’re mine now. They should know.” 

You throw your head back, crying out in pleasure, as it finally sweeps over you. Every muscle in your body tightens as the intense waves of pleasure ripple through you, and you clutch desperately at Dave, gripping his shoulders until the convulsions of pleasure finally die down. He hums happily, not letting up as he licks every inch of you clean. 

Dave works his mouth on your clit, tongue swirling around it lightly, then licks and sucks it hard, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you until the tide of orgasm crashes over you again and leaves you trembling. Dave doesn't stop until every last bit of pleasure has been wrung from your body, until you can do nothing, nothing but lie there and process what just happened. 

When Dave finally does stop, you can barely move your limbs. He drapes himself over you, his warmth calming your raging heart. 

“Invite him to my place tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll take care of the rest.” 

“Wouldn’t my parents get suspicious?” 

“If they do,” he kisses your eyes one by one, still wet and aching but done with the tears. “I’ll take care of them too.”  

You hate to admit but Chris looks good tied in a chair all bloody and bruised. 

“Fucking tell him to let me go,” he barks at you but his pleas are cut short when Dave comes behind him and yanks his head by the hair. He yelps in pain, eyes squeezing shut when Dave presses the barrel of the gun into his neck. “You two are fucked in the head,” he murmurs. “Just let me go, I won’t say anything.” 

Your body becomes rigid, tense. You don’t regret this, and it feels good to finally see him break. He’s been doing the same to you for months. Belittling you and finding amusement in treating you like thrash. 

Dave’s gaze finds your own, you find it hard to look away. 

“Come here,” he says voice growing soft. “Don’t be afraid of him, sweetheart, he can’t hurt you anymore.” 

Despite all his fear, Chris still manages to glare at you. “You could’ve just broken up with me. It’s your fault.” 

“Mine?” you finally say, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t feel like I had a choice. You made sure of that.” 

“You’re not thinking clearly—” 

Dave’s voice cuts through the air. 

“I’ve had enough.” 

He pulls the trigger. 

The bullet leaves the barrel of the gun in complete silence. 

You don’t even flinch when Chris’s head drops, blood pouring from between his lips and down his chest. Dave doesn’t bat an eye as he sits on the end of the bed. You’re left standing in front of Chris, not looking at him directly, but hearing the last of the gushing sounds of the bullet wound. 

You should feel remorse. 

But all you feel is relief that he’s gone. 

The realization makes you drop down to your knees, you hear the bed creak as Dave attempts to get up but you stop him with the raise of your hand. “I’m okay,” you gasp. “Just. . . in shock.” you turn to him. “Are. . . are you okay?” 

“Okay as I’ll ever be,” gun still in hand, over his thigh, he spreads his legs as he settles back down. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the gun, a sudden hunger flashing in your eyes. His lips stretch into a grin, his hands sliding to hand loose over the inside of his thighs, he gestures for you to come closer with the gun. “Crawl to me.” 

A thrill shoots up your spine. You move slowly, crawling towards him until you are close enough for him to reach out and touch you. You watch him carefully, studying the gun still clenched in his hand before meeting his gaze. You settle yourself at his feet, never taking your eyes away from his. 

Dave slowly reaches out and takes your chin gently in his hand, guiding your mouth closer to where the gun rests. He leans down, his face inches away from yours, and whispers, “You want to taste the weapon that ended that shit-heads’ life?”

You take a deep breath and nod. 

Before he can give the command, you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out. 

His pupils dilate as he guides the barrel into your mouth, against the flat surface of your tongue. It’s cold and the metallic taste overwhelms you but you enjoy it. Dave pushes deeper until you’re gagging, you close your lips around it, your eyes dropping where his finger still rests on the trigger. 

“Look at that,” he murmurs, mesmerized. “Your life is in my hands, all it’ll take to end it is one trigger.” 

You moan at the thought, you’re wholly his, and nothing can stop that now. 

Dave touches your cheek with his other hand, his fingers kind.

 “I’ll treat it with care.” 

#dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal characters #the equalizer 2 fanfic #dave york fanfic #dave york smut #hauntedhoedown

[ladamedusoif]

Room Service

A Dave York x F!Reader one-shot

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Word count: 2290

Warnings: EXPLICIT 18+ basically PWP; smut central; alcohol consumption; strong language; thigh riding; oral sex (F receiving); fingering; light bondage; unprotected PiV; praise kink; a little aftercare; sweetness among the smut. No physical description of F! Reader beyond her outfit (dress, stockings, high heeled shoes).

Summary: You’ve been summoned to Room 755 of the conference hotel by a man you know only as Dave.

A/N: Does this need explanation? I’m firmly in the Dave York Pit. I had to get this out of my system. Smut is the result.

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The trick with passing unnoticed through the lobby and to the elevators is to walk like you should be there. Dress like you should be there. Don’t give them any reason to think you aren’t actually a guest at this glossy but generic business hotel, the kind of place that makes all of its money on conferences and overnights on company accounts.

The kind of place you’ve been called to before, for exactly the same reason.

Room 755. You have taken a note of it in your phone. You get into the elevator, adjust your belted trench-coat and dress, and check your hair in the mirror before pressing “7”.

He had confirmed he’d be there at this time. A clear schedule for the rest of the day, he said, and he would like to make the most of it.

You walk confidently down the neverending hallway towards the hotel room. A firm knock. You can sense that he’s peeking through the peephole to make sure it’s who he’s expecting. And then it opens.

”Hi there. You found it okay, then?”

”I did.” You step past him into the room, undoing your belt and unbuttoning the coat to reveal the fitted red dress beneath. “So what do I call you? What would you like me to call you?”

He double-locks the door to avoid any unwanted interruption before taking your coat.

“Dave is fine.”

***

Dave offers you a glass of red wine and you sit beside him on the small sofa near the hotel room window. You can feel his eyes roving over your body, taking you in inch by inch. Your high heels. Your stockings. The glimpse of your thighs. The way the dress clings perfectly to your tits.

He sips his wine and licks his lips lasciviously, edging closer to you.

“So you’ve got a free afternoon, Dave?”

He nods.

“Completely free. And I’d like to enjoy it.”

You cross and uncross your legs as you shift your body and lean forward, letting the line of your tits brush ever so slightly off his chest. “That can be arranged. I’d like to enjoy it too, though.”

Dave’s dark eyes sparkle with lust and he grins, eyes locked on your lips. “I won’t have a good time if you don’t.”

You chuckle. “I’ll hold you to that, Dave. Even if I’m the one providing the…service.”

He whines softly, so quietly you almost miss it. But it’s there. You can feel it. Sense how much he wants it. How much he wants you.

“So with that in mind… where would you like me to start?”

Your fingers find the sturdy muscle of his thigh, trailing over the grey fabric of his dress pants and nudging closer and closer to his crotch.

Dave gasps as he reaches for you, leaning in for a kiss.

“Tell me, Dave. I’m at your service.”

”Get on my leg. My…fuck, get on my thigh.”

You break the kiss and stand up to hitch the skirt of your dress up, exposing the lacy tops of the stay-up stockings you’ve chosen for today. He instantly reaches for your thighs, squeezing the flesh as he pulls you towards him.

“Get on my fucking thigh, baby.”

You straddle his firm, thick leg and wrap your arms around his neck. Dave’s dark eyes are burning, now; the lusty sparkle replaced by wanton desire and need. He puts his hands on your hips and starts to move them for you, dragging over and back.

“Ride like this.”

You nod obediently and kiss him deeply as you start to move, crying out at the sensitivity of your swollen clit and pussy dragging over the fabric. Dave never takes his eyes off you, occasionally grabbing your ass firmly or reaching for your tits.

“Fuck, Dave, feels so fucking good. Wanna get off on you like this.”

He begins to suck at your neck, making you moan loudly with pleasure and sending a wave of wetness to your core as you fuck his thigh faster and harder.

“Let me hear you, baby. C’mon. I want to hear you.”

You give him what he wants. It’s his time, after all. You grip his shoulders and ride his leg like a woman possessed until you come on him with a roar. Even before you’ve lifted yourself off him, you know there’s going to be a wet patch.

“Good girl.” He pulls you to him, still sitting on the sofa, and presses his face to your belly. His long, clever fingers work their way under the folds of your pulled-up dress and find the lace trim of your panties, tugging down the fabric over your ass and thighs. He takes you in, encouraging you to part your legs slightly, before he buries his face against your pussy, bending and tilting his head just so in order to sweep his tongue through your soaking folds.

”Taste good, Dave?”

He nods, lapping up your wetness like it’s his last meal. “Fucking delicious. Fucking delicious little pussy, so fucking sweet and wet for me.”

When he breaks away you see your own slick glistening over his perfect mouth and the tip of that beautiful nose. You lean in and kiss him deeply.

“Tasting yourself?”

You nod. “With a little of you mixed in.”

He laughs, low and purposeful. “Get on the bed. Keep the dress on.”

***

He kneels at the foot of the bed, looking up at you sitting pretty above him.

“Like butter wouldn’t melt.”

You huff a laugh. “Appearances are deceptive, you know.”

His broad hands start to caress your thighs, slipping over and back against the silky nylon stockings and hitching up your dress a little further with each pass.

He hisses at the sight of your flesh, the tops of your thighs bare above the stockings, the promise of your wet, warm, perfect cunt primed and ready for him.

“Lie back.”

You follow his orders. Dave’s hands move down to the bend of your knees as he tugs your body forward until his nose is rubbing gently off your pussy. You whine with anticipation, thighs pressed against his cheeks. He’s clean shaven, but with enough stubble to tease and titillate your sensitive skin.

“What do you want to do to me, Dave? I was here for you, not the other way around.”

He chuckles and presses his tongue flat against you, sending your hips bucking upwards. “I want to eat you out until you’ve come twice more. And then I want to fuck you until you come again around my cock.” He traces a slow circle over your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue, pulling a cry of need from your throat.

“Does that sound okay to you?”

You nod, desperate for his mouth to be back on you.

“Words.”

“That sounds fucking perfect to me, Dave.”

He looks up at you for a moment, hips and pussy exposed for him, dress hitched around your waist, black stockings emphasising the flesh of your thighs. His hardening cock twitches in his pants, and he undoes the belt and tugs down the zipper before focusing again on you.

And then he pauses.

“You okay?”

He stands up and walks around to the side of the bed, belt in hand. “Arms above your head, baby.”

You don’t break his penetrating gaze as you follow his instructions, stretching your arms out above you. A mewl of pleasure and submission escapes your lips as he wraps his belt around your wrists: not too tightly, he checks; just enough to keep your hands together.

Dave settles back between your thighs, taking a final look at your prone form before licking a long, slow stripe through the lips of your pussy. Your hips buck and writhe at the sensation, the feeling intensified by the restraints on your wrists.

He chuckles as he comes back for more, and he makes good his promise. You come for a second time as he’s sucking on your clit, for a third time as he’s flicking the tip of his tongue over the swollen bud while his fingers work you from the inside, expertly finding and massaging the perfect spot until he has you wrung out, boneless; slick covering his clean-shaven face and coating your inner thighs.

He lies beside you, naked now, shirt and dress pants discarded, and undoes the belt from around your wrists before pulling you tight to him, enveloping you in a kiss that sets your body aflame. Dave carefully helps you sit up and unzips your dress before easing it off you, pausing to admire you stretched out before him in your bra and stockings.

His broad palm follows the curves of your hips and belly, eyebrows furrowed as he studies your body from head to toe.

“You said you’d fuck me until I came again.”

Dave’s eyes sparkle as he chuckles, a smile spreading across his handsome face. “I did.”

“And…?”

“And…how would you like it?”

You sit up and caress his face, placing gentle kisses on his nose and forehead, before moving into position on all fours.

“Like this, I think. Does this work for you?” You can’t resist offering him a little wiggle of your ass, and you smirk with satisfaction when you hear Dave moan in response behind you.

He shifts into place, hands squeezing your ass and stroking your back before slowly sinking into your pussy with a long, low whine of pleasure. “It works fucking perfectly, baby.”

The angle is just right, and the combination of his rhythm, the feel of his cock massaging your most sensitive places, and his fingers seeking out your clit has you careening over the edge before long. Your ecstatic cries are muffled, thankfully, by the duvet and pillows as he tilts you forward and fucks you until your cunt flutters, delighted, around him.

He pulls out and watches you flop onto the mattress, chest rising and falling as you come down from your high.

“Good?”

“That’s…fuck. That’s one way of putting it.”

You reach for his cock, hard and ready, and languidly stroke it with one hand as you move to straddle him.

“Your turn.” He grins up at you. “Arms above your head.” He obeys, and you reach for his belt to return the favour before sinking down onto him, pussy still throbbing and sensitive from your own orgasms.

“Do you want to come for me?”

Your hips roll over and over in a perfect, steady rhythm that has Dave panting and moaning with every pass.

“Y-y-yes. Want to come.”

Pick up the pace, a little. He whines.

“Good boy, you’re so close.” You watch the flicker of excitement in his eyes at your praise, and take satisfaction in how well you can read him. “So good, baby. Good, good boy.”

You lean back a little, cupping his balls with one hand while the other reaches for his, bound and stretched above his head. Your fingers intertwine as you watch him edge closer and closer to release, pleasure written all over his face.

“Tell me when you want to come, Dave.”

He’s bucking up against you now, desperate for it, eyes closed and mouth open as his breath hitches and stutters.

“Now…need to come now. Now, baby.”

You purr the words into his ear.

“Come.”

He lets go with a roar, coming hard inside you until he has nothing left to give. Both spent, you flop back beside him on the bed, fingers tracing over the rivulets of perspiration on his beautiful, strong body.

Gently, you remove the belt, examining his wrists for any friction or pressure marks. He does the same in turn, turning your hands over gently as he studies the skin.

“I’ve got some skin balm stuff in the bathroom, if you’d like.” He kisses your palm with a kind of delicate care that belies the man who’d been begging to come just moments before.

“I’m fine.” Your eyes meet his, lost in the chocolate warmth of his hazy, post-coital gaze. “You want some, though?”

Dave shakes his head and pulls you to him for a kiss.

***

You weren’t supposed to fall asleep. You blink awake an hour later, naked under the hotel covers, Dave snoring lightly beside you.

“Dave. Dave.”

He mumbles as he warily opens one eye, turning to face you.

“Hi.”

“I fell asleep. Shit.”

His mouth meets yours before dropping to your breasts as he absentmindedly sucks on your nipples.

“‘S okay, though. Right? You were going to stay anyway.”

You feel the strong muscles of his forearms, fingertips following the pattern of the freckles speckled across his golden skin.

“You want me to stay, Dave?”

He furrows his brow. “That was the plan, wasn’t it? Did you bring your bag?”

“I did. Left it in the car, though, just to - I dunno. Add to the atmosphere, I guess.”

Dave chuckles as he pulls you in again, his laugh resonating through your two bodies as they press together: warm, soft skin on skin; the dew of post-sex perspiration still fresh.

“Well, it fucking worked, baby.” He kisses your forehead affectionately and caresses your cheek. “And the kids didn’t mind going to Mai’s?”

You grin. “A long weekend at their cool single aunt’s house with a pool in the backyard? I didn’t see them for dust.”

He lies back and laughs. You nuzzle into his side, admiring the glint and gleam of your wedding band as you rest your left hand on Dave’s tummy.

A tell-tale rumble interrupts the blissed-out, post-coital mood.

“Hungry, are we, Mr York?”

Your husband smiles at you like a mischievous kid. “Worked up an appetite, baby.”

“Then let’s call room service. We’re not done here.”

(MDNI banner by @cafekitsune)

#room service fic #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #equalizer 2 #the dave york pit #davide yorque #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

[kiwisbell]

Larks and Katydids [dave york]

There's something sweet about you that keeps him coming back to this little diner. You do not know the dark corners of the world he lives in. But you will.

my masterlist!

pairing: dave york x f!reader

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: dom/sub dynamic, age gap (20s/40s), blood, violence, murder, soft!dave, dom!dave, stalker!dave, but in a cute way, it's for your own good, obsession, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected sex (wrapping before tapping etc.), brief orgasm denial, submissive reader, dave is a bamf, protective!dave, possessive!dave, dave is nice but only to you, shirley jackson references, fingering, creampie, daddy kink, sweet girl being a dave york staple, kidnapping, implied innocence kink

word count: ~ 14.7k

a/n: y'know what.. now that i'm looking back it.. this fic kinda gives red light and now i'm wondering if i might need some serious introspection for writing shit like this. anyway ☠️ some of you know may already be aware that my earlier fics were inspired by hozier songs. this one was somewhat of an ode to nfwmb, but that may just be because i listened to it non-stop while writing. anyway, if you haven't already read this one-shot, please enjoy!! xoxo

LARKS AND KATYDIDS

His eyes keep drifting toward the sweet, pretty thing behind the counter. 

Dave has instincts. Good ones. For one, he knows that the idiot sitting across from him is not the type of client he wants to make a deal with. Senator Isaiah Berkeley may have the means and motive to kill his cheating wife, but Dave’s instincts prickle up the back of his neck. Berkeley is flighty, nervous, visibly sweating at the brow. He’ll be a liability. Some men are not built for the jagged edges of this life. The man still wears his wedding ring, for fuck’s sake. He’d regret hiring Dave the second he found his wife’s body after a fall down the stairs.

Dave never doubts his instincts. Now, they sink their claws into his eyes until he cannot help but flick them toward your pretty face. Jesus, you’re pretty. This diner is a hole in the wall, a red-and-white and black-checkered-floor retro nightmare that smells vaguely of syrup, and he’s surprised the staff aren’t wearing fucking rollerskates to deliver the food. But the coffee is good, and the food is real, and there’s not another soul here. Except for you.

He likes the simple black shirt and skirt you wear, and he likes the way you roll up your apron to make it fit the curves of your body. He likes the shape of your mouth, the gentle touch to your eyes, the way you beamed at him when they entered the diner. Best seat in the house, you said when you sat them in the corner. Dave tasted honey when he tried your name out loud and took his order: two coffees, black. You smiled, like you could have guessed, and said, Be right up. You don’t carry a notepad. It makes him like you more: you’re clever. You remember things. 

You’re standing behind the counter and reading a book, your chin in your palm, and he’s fascinated by the speed of your eyes across the pages. He understands why you’re so quick when a gruff male voice erupts from the kitchen, calling a name that must be yours. “Get back to work,” he snaps. 

You scramble to hold your place in the book and scurry around the counter to check up on your only two customers. As if you hadn’t been so good, so attentive. You’re good. He knows it. You should be treated like it. Dave’s fingers twitch, like he can swipe at the faint frown that furrows your brow. Fuck, you’re adorable, even flustered, especially flustered. 

“How you folks doing?” you ask, that sweet smile a poison that festers in his blood. “Sure I can’t get you anything else?”

“No,” says Berkeley shortly, not meeting your eye. Could he be any more conspicuous?

Dave, rubbing his fingertips over his bottom lip, doesn’t want to leave it at that. “What are you reading?” he asks.

You blink as if you’ve never heard the question before, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself. He likes that, too. “Oh,” you say, and it sounds like a trembling sigh of excitement. Dave feels himself swell up a little with pride. “It’s called We Have Always Lived in the Castle.”

He hums. “Jackson.”

He likes being the one who dropped that sparkle into your eyes. “You like her?”

“I know her,” he says. Across from him, Berkeley’s fingers are white-knuckling the handle of his coffee mug. He’s staring into the dregs like he expects them to tell him his fortune. “Don’t have a lot of time for reading nowadays. Do you like it?”

You nod eagerly, and he doesn’t think he’s imagining the way you lean toward him slightly, as if frantic to answer his question. “I’m reading it for a literature course I’m taking. I think she’s one of my favourites now. But I really shouldn’t have my nose in a book at work.”

Oh. You’re young. You’re young, still in college, and you’re goddamn smart. The interest stirring in his pants mirrors that in his head. 

“Our secret,” says Dave. “I’ll have more coffee, please, honey.”

He certainly does not imagine the way you bite your lip to suppress your grin and hurry off for the coffee pot, a little mouse. You like to please. He doesn’t need more coffee; he and Berkeley are almost done, whether he knows it or not. 

“I can’t take your contract, Senator,” says Dave, still watching your perky ass as you walk away. “You’ll have to find somebody else.”

Berkeley’s mouth opens in preparation for what Dave presumes will be a flurry of feeble threats and reassurances that I can pay you well, but Dave slips out of the booth and walks away—not before slapping down a couple bills that will cover the cost of their coffees. 

He should go back into town, sleep, and get Kovac to reach out to some more potential clients. But he wants to linger for a bit, hang around, see why his instincts are pushing him toward you, you pretty young thing with a smile that dims all other light. You’re on your way back to their table, holding the coffee pot, and nearly bump into him in your rush. “Oh!”

Dave steadies you with a firm grip around your elbow and doesn’t let go. Your skin is soft, prickled with goosebumps. 

You bow your head in instant submission, instant apology, and he tilts his head to the side. He makes you nervous. “Could’ve hurt yourself,” he says softly. 

“I’m sorry. Guess I was excited.” Your eyes flicker up toward him, and he forces them to stay there when he lifts your chin with his finger. 

“Exceptional customer service,” says Dave. Your laugh is breathless. “I was just leaving. Don’t worry about that second cup, sweetheart.” He drops his hand only to dig out a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and place it in your palm. “Wrong Jackson, I know.”

Your eyes widen at it. “This is way more than your coffee.”

Dave lifts his brow. “You want me to put it in your pocket myself?”

You slowly pocket the bill. “Thank you,” you tell him. It’s strong and clear, and he likes the way it sounds coming from your mouth. 

“I was in college once,” he says good-naturedly. “In ancient times. I know the costs.”

Your laugh, your real laugh, is the chimes of dawn. You’re so bright. You’re the sun slowly painting the sky orange as it rises. “I’ll be done in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Dave frowns. “What’ll you do after?”

You shrug one shoulder. Your other arm is still burdened with holding up the coffee pot. “Hopefully, get as far away from here as I can.”

“Your parents suffocating you?” He’s good at digging, at unearthing treasures with only words; he shouldn’t have to be, in this line of work, but he likes to know things. Likes the control that comes with being prepared for anything, everything. 

“They’re dead,” you tell him. It’s plain, colourless, and Dave’s curiosity deepens. “I live with my uncle.”

There it is. 

Everybody has a trigger. People are like guns. They are predictable, but if you handle them wrong, they’ll jam. He catches the way your eyes shutter at the mention of your uncle, the way your shoulders round slightly, even though that brilliant smile is still on your face. Dave doesn’t like it. 

“Does he treat you good?”

Your slow blink is trancelike. “He’s family,” you say simply, and Dave knows that’s the answer you give every time the man doesn’t treat you so good. 

He grinds his teeth a little bit, an old habit from his smoking days. “Well, I hope you get the hell out of dodge,” he says. 

“Please come again,” you say. “God knows I’ll still be here.”

Oh, he’ll come again. In fact, he decides, he may not even leave.

~

Dave follows you home. 

It’s a short drive once you pull your beat-up Cooper off the highway and enter a little courtyard surrounded by dilapidated apartments. He knows the area. And he knows it’s not safe. Dave turns off his headlights and idles in the hazard zone, watching as you exit your car and rush to the front door with your purse clutched to your chest. He shakes his head, clicks his tongue to himself. Scared little bird, too pretty to live in a place like this.

He waits a little longer. Eventually, he sees you—he knows it’s you, even five storeys up, from the length of your hair and the way it moves—shuck the curtains open. It’s a small window of orange glowing light in the darkness, but he can see you. A man—your uncle—approaches the window, too, lifting the pane and blowing a cloud of smoke outside. Dave rolls down his window and strains his ear. It’s useless; he can’t hear a thing. And yet, he waits. 

He doesn’t know what he waits for. Maybe he’s expecting him to hit you, to lash out, to do something. Something that would let Dave scratch the itch in his knuckles. Instead, he’s only waiting, until your uncle tosses his cigarette out the window and latches it shut. He is evicted from your world for tonight. But he will not go quietly.

It begins with a phone call. Ari. Need you to track someone down for me. 

Your uncle’s name is Jason. He doesn’t share your last name, having been a half-brother to your father, but it’s him. Felony charges: breaking and entering, assault, possession. Run-of-the-mill, except it isn’t, because the fucker lives with you. As far as Dave has been able to dig up, you’ve never reported a word against him, but it seems you like to stay away most of the time, anyway.

Oh, yes. Dave has been digging into you, too.

Senior in college, majoring in Environmental Science at Northeastern. Long-standing and passionate affair with nature. Event Coordinator for SAF (Students for a Future), where you’ve organised speaker panels with renowned climatologists and planted trees in Franklin Park. You write for the association’s newsletter. 

All of it makes Dave frown, rubbing at his brow, hunched over his desk under the light of a single lamp. You’re so good. You’re clever and optimistic and ambitious, and you deserve a hell of a lot better than living in that shithole and working such a lacklustre job. He looks at the picture that accompanies your file, pulled from your social media, and adjusts the hard length in his pants. You’re photographed in the sunlight, smiling bright, your hair loose and gently blown about in the breeze, wearing a skimpy little sundress. Dave hisses and squeezes himself at the base of his stiffening cock. Jesus, get it together, he scolds himself. It’s a fucking photograph. 

Oh, but he’s thinking about you. He’s remembering the tenderness of you, the kind heart, the way you belong nowhere near him. Your soul is snow-white. He will bloody it. 

You've had boyfriends. Of course you have. A young woman who looks like you doesn't go her whole life without boys clumsily tossing themselves at your feet. It doesn't mean Dave refrains from investigating them, too. Two of them were from high school, short-term, and went to different colleges to live different lives. The third—Jack—lasted a year and a half, and you met him in a first-year sciences course. Both of you were from different towns, fish out of water, and gravitated to one another because you had no other friends. None of your friends were surprised when you and Jack began dating, but they were surprised to discover he'd been cheating on you for the last two months of your relationship. 

Jack said you got busy and couldn't fulfil his needs. According to Dave’s thorough research, the girl he crawled to was his roommate's girlfriend. Dave grinds his teeth as he examines the kid’s picture. He's a fucking kid. He's clean-cut, a trust fund baby, never planted a tree in Franklin Park despite your attempts to convince him. He's never gotten his hands dirty the way Dave has. He's never bloodied them. 

Another sip of whiskey, and his cock won’t rest. Dave grunts, unzipping his pants and whipping his belt off, pulling himself out. “Fuck,” he hisses, eyes fixed on your smiling face as he spits into his hand and begins to stroke himself. “Fuck.”

His head tips back against the headrest of his office chair. You’re kneeling in front of him, your sweet doe’s eyes awaiting his instruction. He takes you through it, step-by-step, because he’s a bad man, but he’d be good to you. Your perfect lips wrap around his head, your tongue lapping up the precum that beads out, greedy but obedient. You take him deeper, choking around his length and his girth, your mascara smearing as he cups your face and encourages you to take me, you can take me, sweet girl. You do—of course you do—making a low, satisfied hum around his cock when you manage to take him down your throat, happily swallowing around him as he begins to pump his cum inside you. That’s it. That’s it, baby. 

Dave’s hips jerk as he comes, and splatters his cum across his stomach and his hand. Some of it, though, lands on the picture of you, which he does not remember picking up, clenching in his fist.

Is there a circle of hell darker than the one he’s already destined for?

Dave returns to the diner the next week, and your grin when you see him soaks through his bones. You nearly bruise your hips in your rush to get around the counter to greet him. 

“I loved it,” you tell him right away, “the Jackson book. I think I’m gonna write my paper on it.”

He likes that you want to tell him about your life. He likes that you trust him with the small details. He doesn't want you to trust another man like that. It's a dangerous world and being so trusting will burn you. He can't let that happen. Little bird, with your glass bones so breakable. 

He unwinds his arm from behind his back and offers his gift to you. Your eyes glimmer when you see it, then slide slowly up to meet his. “You brought me a book,” you gasp, “and I don’t even know your name yet.”

“It’s Dave,” he tells you, placing the book into your hand. “I looked her up. Thought you might be interested in more.”

“Dark Tales,” you read, beaming up at him with the same smile from the picture he’d jerked his cock over. Fucking Christ. He’s going to hell. You step closer to him and, tentatively, as if he might lash out at you, lift up onto your toes and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Dave.”

He tries to quell the arousal that’s pumping blood double-time to his cock. He really tries. But he cannot quell the memory of your lips on his skin. Why should he deny himself the heavenly indulgence of your attention? 

“I expect a book report,” he says, all stern brows and unwavering eye contact. 

You hug the book to your chest and he wants to shove you to your knees, bend you over the counter, bury his face in your needy pussy. You say his name, and it’s a whispering shockwave that trembles all the way down his spine. “After such a thoughtful gift… I’ll do anything you want me to.”

Yes. Yes, he knows.

Dave knows what you need. He is what you need. 

You need a man who will treat you right. You need someone to handle you properly, assuredly. You need a man who will hold you like you’re precious, shimmering granules of a crushed diamond. You want to be told what to do. You want to be dominated, protected, fucked. You want to be wrecked, and you want it to put you back together. 

You need a man who will treat you right for the first time in your life. 

Dave continues to come into the diner once a week. He steals you away for conversation whenever you aren’t attending to your other customers, and he gets a tick in his jaw whenever you’re whisked away. Your very existence evicts reason from his head. He wants to give you all the money you could ever want just to get you away from those wandering eyes and too-close hands. He wants to come in every single night you work just so he can keep an eye out: your silent, deadly protector. He wants to slash all the tires that aren’t his so nobody can come here and invade his private time with you. He knows he cannot do any of this because it’s something close to clinically insane. 

Instead, he only talks to you. And really fucking enjoys it. 

“And then Kate broke up with Garrett, even though she still loves him, but once she realised it, she realised Emily was totally in love with Garrett, so by the time Kate went back to beg him to take her back, he was already in bed with Emily, and now none of them are talking. And I’m down three club members.”

You speed through all of this while pouring his coffee, and Dave tries to wrap his head around the plot. “So… what did Emily do wrong?”

You click your tongue. “You would fail a test on girl code, Mr. York. We don’t go after one another’s boyfriends, crushes, or exes. We definitely don’t fuck them.”

Dave vaguely shakes his head. “They didn’t teach me that in school, sweet girl.”

“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” you say, and Dave never gets tired of the way your cheeks flush at the nickname. “What did you study?”

“Never went to college. Joined up when I was eighteen.”

“Oh.” You’re flustered right away, opening your mouth to stumble over the words, “Thank you for—”

Dave silences you with a mere flick of his eyes upward. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew the shit I did.”

The quiet lingers heavy and stifling, but it’s you who breaks it. “So,” you try, clearing your throat, “what did you do after?”

“Apparently, I thought serving my country was the only way to go. I was C.I.A.” He notes the way you blink in astonishment, and he feels compelled to make you learn that he isn’t good. “Now, I own a security company.”

“Does that mean you protect people’s homes from break-ins, or people hire you to professionally break in?”

The twist of your lips is wicked and shoots right to his cock. Dave leans over the counter. “Wanna take a guess?”

“Sorry, Mr. York. Anyone that secretive about their job description is up to something shifty.” Your eyes still tease him. “And I don’t want to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Bills to pay.”

“You know I’d keep you safe, sweet girl.”

You’re cleaning the counter with a rag and he’s sipping his coffee, but both of you are smiling behind your respective tasks. “I know,” you say, your eyes briefly meeting.

Every so often, he follows you to school. It’s nice: friendly, modern with natural touches, good to look at among the fall leaves that crunch underfoot. And there you are, walking down the steps, wearing a Northeastern sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, and sneakers, your hair loose. You're laughing at something your friend said; in fact, you seem to be surrounded by friends. Dave slips his sunglasses further down his nose as he leans back against the Lincoln. His popular butterfly, so happy and brilliant. 

He doesn't know how your eyes find him so quickly, but they meet across the courtyard. And a game begins. 

You stop in your tracks. Your friend puts a hand on your shoulder (“Are you okay?” he imagines she asks), and you nod, making up some excuse. Dave folds his arms over his chest and watches you continue your walk down the path, departing with all but one of your friends with friendly waves good-bye. 

He knows your class schedule, which means he knows you have to walk right by his parking spot to get to the building. You make it to the end of the path and your friend finally spots Dave. Oh my God, he sees her whisper. The rest is unintelligible, but he's smug as a motherfucker when you bite down on your lip to hide the grin that's tugging on your pretty mouth. And then your hand twitches, and something falls to the ground behind you. 

Dave smirks. Clever thing. He rushes to pick up the key ring while you and your friend keep walking. “Excuse me, miss,” he calls out. 

You turn around, all coy and demure, and he wants to drag you inside his car and sit you right on his cock to straighten out your behaviour. “You dropped your keys,” says Dave, lifting them up with a jingle. 

You feign a gasp. “Oh, thank you, sir.” You make sure to brush your fingers along his knuckles as you pluck the key ring from his hand. “You're a hero.”

Dave lifts his brows in acknowledgement, looking at you over his sunglasses. “I've heard those are good,” he says, eyes flicking down toward Dark Tales, bookmarked near the end and tucked under your arm. Behind you, your friend has her thumbnail in her mouth, enraptured in the conversation that's unfolding. 

He’ll have to rectify your lip-biting habit. “I got it as a present,” you tell him, your fingers tracing the title on the cover. You know exactly what you're doing, and the thrill of knowing you're attracted to him thrills Dave. 

“Very thoughtful,” he muses. “I’m sorry to keep you. You must have somewhere to be.”

“Thank you again.” You look up at him through your lashes and Dave feels his nostrils flare. Your friend tugs on your elbow and he can hear the vague whisper as you both retreat from him: … so hot. 

It's been a few months since he met you. He finds himself following you home and sleeping in his car outside your apartment more than in his own home. It irks him that he can't look inside and see that you're okay, knowing with absolute confidence that he hasn't hurt you. 

The night something goes wrong, you sense it long before he does. 

The diner is occupied by two other customers, one in the corner and the other by the door. Not unusual for this time. Dave approaches the counter and prepares to tease you about your incidental meeting yesterday. 

But you just smile politely at him and ask, “What can I get for you tonight?”

Dave frowns. “Sweet girl—”

“Coffee?” You pick up the pot and Dave starts at the way your hand trembles so badly the coffee spills over the rim of the cup. He wants to touch you, reach out and wrap his firm hand around your wrist, steady your nerves. Why are you so frightened? “I’m sorry,” you say shakily, scrambling for the rag under the counter. 

Dave’s instincts are never wrong. Something, or someone, has put you out of sorts. His blood reaches a simmer at the thought. His job is to protect you. He's supposed to keep you safe and happy. But your eyes are stricken with fear and your posture is stiff. The rag in your hand won't stop shaking. 

It’s the way your apron sits askew, like you've been anxiously twisting it, or it's the way you smile like he's a stranger and hand him something small, “a little something extra,” on the house. 

He unfurls his palm and finds a note. 

The man in the corner has a gun, it says. 

You don’t once stop smiling.

He doesn't recognise the man. He wears a leather jacket and jeans; there's a scar on his cheek and over the bridge of his nose, which is bent from one too many breaks; and he's looking right at Dave with a crooked smile on his face. He lifts a hand and waves. There's a tattoo on his wrist: the sigil of the Lukov Brotherhood. Dave dips his chin in greeting. Cordial. A farce. They both know it.

Dave takes a sip from his cup. “Spill coffee on me,” he says behind the rim, obscuring his mouth from the view of the man in the corner. 

You go to top up his drink and overshoot, staining the front of his white dress shirt. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” you squeak. 

Dave feigns a mild-mannered annoyance. “Where's your bathroom?” he asks, shucking off his jacket. 

You gesture for him to follow you and usher him into the tiny, one-stall bathroom. You slump against the door and put your hands over your face. A shudder racks your whole body. 

Dave can't have this. He crowds you, taking your wrists and prying them from your face. “Sweetheart.” He brushes a knuckle over your cheek. “Did he hurt you?”

You swallow thickly. “No. No, he just walked in and asked for a table, but he pointed the gun at me and said he was waiting for the right person. Said I wouldn't get hurt if I didn't get in the way.” Your eyes meet his, frantic. “Oh, God, did I just get in the way?”

Dave pulls you into his chest and lets you rest your cheek on his heart. Your breathing evens out as you listen to it beat, strong and steady. “He's a hired killer. He’s probably here for me.”

“No.” You shake your head, shoving away from him. “No, he can't… He can't do that. Why would he—?”

“I lied to you, sweet girl.” Dave cups the back of your head and bunches your hair in his fist. He needs to make you understand. “The first night we met, a senator was asking me to kill his wife for him.”

“You…” For a moment, you trail off, lingering on the silence. He can't tell whether you want to flee or bury yourself in his chest again. To his shock, a small burst of laughter escapes you, and you slap your hand over your mouth to stay quiet. “I knew you didn't just break into houses. Someone with a car like yours, all those nice suits… God, I’m stupid.”

You're trembling a little from the shock, but Dave needs to take care of the problem and get you out safely. “I need you to work with me,” he tells you. “You listening to me?”

You nod vigorously. “I’m listening, Dave.”

“Good. Good girl.” He squeezes your hip. “You need to get out through the back. I’m going to give you my keys; get in my car and lock the doors. Not your car. Mine.” 

“What about you? Dave, what if he hurts you?”

It fills him with a certain courage to know how deeply you care for him. “He's a lackey, sweetheart. Joined a so-called brotherhood just to scratch an itch.” Dave leans in and kisses your forehead. “He's not gonna get me.”

He's certainly not going to get you. 

Dave reaches past you to open the door, but you grab his wrist. “Wait.”

He barely opens his mouth before you're standing on your toes and pressing your lips to his. It's a frantic, hurried kiss, but it's enough. It's enough for Dave. He's going to win because he needs to take you home with him. 

When you pull away, he pins you with a stern look. “My car, sweet girl. No detours.”

He opens the door and lets you flee, and then Dave is rolling up his sleeves, rolling his head around his neck. 

The other customer has left, meaning Dave and the Lukov lackey are alone. “Mr. York,” he greets, toasting his cup of coffee with a grin. He's fucking cocky, thinks Dave, lifting the drink you poured for him. “She's very pretty.”

Yeah, he's going to make this hurt. 

“Let's get this over with,” says Dave, approaching the man’s table and sitting across from him in the booth. “Who sent you? Why did they send you? And how many more are coming?”

“You don't even wanna know my name?” He pouts. “Ouch.”

Dave lifts a brow. “Answer my questions. If you're good, I’ll let you die quickly.”

The man leans back in the booth, acting like he doesn't know enough about Dave York’s reputation to give him the respect he's owed. New to the game. “Well, my name is Jonah, and since I’ve got a gun pointed at your precious bits under this table, I’ll skip the questions. If that's okay.”

He could have killed Dave the second he walked through the door tonight, but he wants to tell a good story, move up the ranks. It’s childish. Dave kicks out his leg and jolts Jonah’s arm aside just as the man’s instincts kick in and the shot goes off. It rings in Dave’s ears and the sound of the weapon clattering onto the floor, safety still off, echoes in the little diner, but he’s diving across the table and grabbing Jonah by the collar. He jerks the killer’s head forward so it cracks against the porcelain saucer next to his mug. Dave picks up the cup and tosses the contents directly into Jonah’s face. The man howls, the blood from the new gash in his forehead mingling with steaming coffee, but Dave is already kicking the gun toward himself under the table and weighing it in his own hand. 

Dave slides out of the booth and drags Jonah with him, tossing him into a heap on the floor. “I don’t like to repeat myself,” says Dave, aiming the gun between his eyes. “But I guess I will, since you’re clearly new to this. Answer my questions, kid.”

“I’m not answering shi—”

Dave lowers the gun and blows off the man’s left kneecap. The resounding yowl can be heard for miles, no doubt. He frantically grasps for the gory heap of flesh, bone, and blood that soaks through his jeans, seething through his teeth and spattering saliva down his chin. It’s almost pitiful. 

“FUCK!” he screams. “It was fucking Berkeley! Isaiah fucking Berkeley hired me. FUCK!”

Dave isn’t surprised. “Better. That’s one down.”

Jonah lifts his hand as if pleading for mercy, his breaths tedious and his face waxy. “Please, please, I—”

Dave fires a shot straight through his begging hand. The bones shatter and the muscles tear, and the blood is a river down the would-be killer’s wrist. He’s a screaming, growling, cursing heap on the blood-soaked floor. “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! Fucking cunt, fucking son of a bitch, you knew too fucking much, man! He wanted to fucking shut you up, and he wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you! FUCK!” Jonah cradles his useless hand to his chest and his face rapidly greying, going ashen with terror and agony and blood loss. “And if I couldn’t do it, he said he’d sent the rest of the fucking Brotherhood to take you both down. Fucking… please, let me fucking go, it fucking hurts.”

Berkeley wants him dead. Not surprising. He took a risk approaching Dave to fulfil his contract; he knew he would get the job done, but only if he said yes. And because he didn’t, Berkeley’s got his reputation on the line if Dave decides to blab about the plot to have his wife killed.

He wanted me to kill your fucking bitch once I was done with you.

How interesting. How very fucking curious. 

The third shot tears through the soft flesh of Jonah’s stomach, and he doesn’t even scream this time. He crumples to the floor and stares at the ceiling, every tremulous breath a labour to suck in. 

“You won’t live,” says Dave, cool and detached. “You’ve lost too much blood. Do you want me to kill you, kid, or do you want to lie there in pain a bit longer?”

Jonah shakes his head vaguely. His face is white. His saliva is brilliantly red. “Kill… me. Just fucking kill me.”

Dave ejects the remaining three bullets from the clip and kneels next to the man’s body. He places one bullet in the hole where his knee once was, another in the hole where his limp hand once was, and he digs the final one into the weeping wound in his stomach. “I hope, in your next life,” he whispers to Jonah, “you aren’t as stupid.”

He leaves without firing another shot, but he suspects the life has fled the man’s body by the time the bell above the door chimes to signal Dave’s exit. 

You’re sitting in the car, your hands folded neatly in your lap. They seemed to have stopped trembling. “Dave,” you whisper as he slides into the driver's seat. “You’re covered in blood.”

“It isn’t mine.” He presses the ignition and reverses out of his spot. He allows himself to look at you, and your eyes are already glued to him. “I’m going to take you to my home, sweet girl. Are you okay with that?”

You nod, and his eyes dip to watch the way your throat hollows when you swallow. “Yes,” you say breathlessly. “You killed him. I saw it.”

His eyes capture yours again. They’re two beacons in the dark, glowing neon red under the light of the diner lights. “Does that scare you?”

It should. And he isn’t surprised to see you tilt your head forward in another nod. “But—” Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and Dave has to look away to avoid veering off the road once he merges onto the highway. “But I don’t want to leave you.” It leaves you all in one breath, like your clothes are suffocating you, the closeness of your two bodies in the car, the stifling darkness.

“Why don’t you want to leave me, sweetheart?” It’s a test, and your eyes glimmer with confirmation that yes, you know it is. 

Your hand finds his, your fingers threading through his and resting on the console between you and him. “Because you keep me safe.”

He lifts your joined hands and kisses your soft, unmarred knuckles. It goes unspoken: I always will.

~

“Wow. I didn’t know assassins paid so well. Maybe I should take it up as a side gig.”

He’s absolved himself of the blood on his hands and changed into a new shirt, but he still smells faintly of iron and sweat from the scuffle. Dave watches you spin in a circle on the spot, staring up at the crystal chandelier in his foyer, your eyes dancing like they’re full of stars. “Sweet girl. You told me you refused to step on ants when you were little.”

“Insects and people are different.”

Dave steps up behind you and circles an arm around your waist, his fingers splaying over your rib cage and tugging you back against his chest. “You’re right,” he says into your ear. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes find the phantom bloodstain on your apron in the shape of a perfect handprint, nor the way you shiver. “People would point their guns at you and splatter your pretty brains all over the wall. People would hurt you. That man…” Dave’s lips press against the curve of your neck. You smell so sweet: rich like coffee and a bit salty with sweat. “He would have slit your pretty throat. You see how I couldn’t let that happen, right, baby?”

Your head lolls a bit, resting against Dave’s shoulder. “I know,” you say, clear as sunshine in a stream. 

“I need you to tell me something, my beautiful girl.” Dave uses his hand on your abdomen to turn you in his grasp. You stare unflinchingly into his eyes. “Has your uncle ever hurt you? Has he ever given you any reason to make you believe he would?”

You blink at the change in subject. “He’s never lifted a finger against me,” you tell him. “But he’s… I don’t know, Dave. It started after my parents died. He comes home late some nights, high on something. He’s despondent most days, but he’s never hurt me. He just…”

“Isn’t there.” You nod your head, and Dave is somewhat glad he doesn’t have a reason to take the life of your only remaining relative. “Would you like me to look into it?”

Your lips twist in a tiny smirk. “Like how you’ve looked into me?”

His clever girl. “You like to play,” he murmurs, twisting a lock of your hair around his finger. “That trick with dropping your keys.”

You tilt your head to the side, brows curving up in that oh-so delicious way, and he wants to shove you onto your knees, right here in his fucking foyer. “I’m not tricky,” you say innocently.

“Reading too many books,” he grunts, his breath hot against your jaw when he leans in close and brings his lips next to your ear. 

“Well, when you keep buying me books…” You gasp when he takes your lobe between his teeth.

He huffs into your skin and sucks at the spot beneath your ear. You taste… Fuck, you taste so soft, tangy with sweat, sweet as the syrup you pour. His brain is hazy with how desperately he needs you. 

“Dave,” you gasp, your fingers greedily grasping a handful of his hair to keep him close. “I need… please, I need—”

He cuts you off with a teasing slap to your ass. Your yelp is music to his ears. You just clutch onto him, trying to pull him closer. 

“You don't know what you need, sweet girl. I know what you need. I say what you need,” he says softly, cupping your chin in his palm. “Understand?”

You're honey in his palm, dripping through his fingers, warm. “Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s right.” Dave cradles the back of your head and watches you melt into the touch, your body like a doll’s in his hands and your pupils eclipsing your irises. His cock is a hard and heavy weight in his pants, twitching at the beast that awakens at the use of your nickname. “You need Daddy to fuck you,” he coos. 

He's thrilled and achingly hard, knowing he was right about you, knowing you want him to take the reins away from you and give you what you need. Your eyes are syrupy. “Yeah, I do,” you sigh, pressing your body up against him. 

He takes your hand and leads you up the staircase. Your footsteps are eager as you scurry after him to his bedroom. There's a large mirror next to his king-sized bed, neatly made with neutral greys and crisp white bedsheets. “You need a plant or two,” you point out, but he's pressing his body up against yours and your words diminish to a soft moan. 

“I’ll let you decorate, sweet girl,” he says, gripping your hips and letting you feel the hard line of his cock against your belly. You grind into him, rasping his name. 

Dave chuckles, and you whimper at the way the vibrations rumble through your spine. “So needy.” The stubble on his jaw scratches lightly against your cheek as he continues to kiss his way down your neck, taking his fill of you. “Such a busy girl. Always working, always studying. You must be so tense, under all these clothes…” He nudges his nose against your cheek and reaches around you to tug at the bow that holds your apron in place. “Let me take them off. Hmm?”

“Please,” you whine, letting him manhandle you in front of the mirror and turn you so you’re forced to watch yourself. Dave ducks his head and puts his mouth back on you, drawn to your soft skin and the soft sounds of pleasure he can pull from you. He unties your blood-stained apron in one tug and lifts it over your head, his deft fingers shifting to the zipper that holds up your dress. When he finally finds more of your skin beneath that black fabric, a little impatient in the way he shucks it off your shoulders, Dave eagerly kisses your shoulders, the back of your neck, licking and sucking every new dip and plane he can reach. You tilt your head to give him more access, wherever he wants, moaning his name and begging, begging, “Please, Daddy.”

“Watch yourself,” he says softly, licking up the side of your neck, “in the mirror. I want you to watch yourself. Can you do that for me?”

Your eyes are lidded and your head is being mostly supported by his shoulder, but you keep your eyes on your reflection as he begins to lower himself behind you, taking the dress with him. He’s pressing kisses to each knob of your spine as he exposes you to the cool air, your nipples perking up and your skin erupting with goosebumps. He handles you reverently, on his knees behind you by the time your dress pools around your ankles, his hands reaching up and squeezing your ass. You jump slightly on the spot, and his laugh is rough—like dragging a wet cloth over gravel. “So beautiful,” he says, and it echoes in the cold room. You feel (and watch) two of his fingers slide through your legs until he finds your slit, wet and glistening. He hums, apparently satisfied. “Who did this to you, sweet girl? Who made you so wet and needy?”

You whisper his name, but it’s not good enough for him. Dave bites into the flesh of your left cheek and lands a smack to it at the same time. “You!” you squeal, grateful for the way he holds you, steadies you, before you can fall. You’re so wet it begins to drip down your thighs. “You, Daddy. It’s you.”

“That’s right.” Dave rises to his feet and lifts his two fingers, soaked in your arousal, to your lips. Once you open your mouth, he fixes them against your tongue, forcing your jaw to remain open as you swirl your tongue around his digits. Tasting yourself. His eyes are so dark they’re black in the dim light, and you want to be so good. You want to please him. He’s strong, capable, so gentle with you, and yet you feel yourself cleaving in two under his lightest touch. You’re splitting, wrecked, soft and pliable as velvet in his hands, and this is what you need. You let your mind fade, sinking into the sweet honey of skin and sex and oblivion. 

The man with his body pressed up against yours is a wraith, dealing in death and dark corners and the cool grooves of a bullet—its ever-certain path through the air. He is wrath itself. His hands have squeezed out life and carried it home with him. His hands now caress your body, and you can almost call it worship. 

You twist your heart from your body and place it gingerly in his palm. He will keep it safe. It thrums like a live current through your chest to his. He wraps his murderous fingers around your throat and squeezes gently, forcing your chin to tilt upward. “I want you to get on your knees,” he says, breathing it into your skin as he kisses along your jaw, making the filthy act of it sound so loving, “and I want you to suck my cock.”

Your core is tight with the arousal that soaks your cunt, and you reach behind you to squeeze his length over his pants. Fuck, he’s big. He’s long and thick and you’re dizzy at thought of him splitting you open on it, fucking your throat. “I want to make you feel good, Dave. Please.”

Dave backs away from you and sits on the regal grey velvet upholstery of the chair in the corner. You turn toward him and begin to follow, bared before him, but he leans one elbow on the armrest, still-wet fingers tracing his mouth, the outline of his cock mouthwatering. 

“Don't walk,” he says. “Crawl to me.”

The thrill of the command, clear and uncompromising, sends you to your hands and knees. It should be humiliating, bruising your knees on the hardwood while dripping down your thighs, but the way he’s devouring you with the yawning black of his pupils, thirsty, makes you add a sway to your hips, a prowl to your crawl. When you reach him, you nuzzle your cheek against his thigh, and he tips your chin up with his finger. “My beautiful girl. Take me out. Go on, baby.”

You slide down the zipper of his dress pants and pull his heavy, thick cock from his briefs. It’s weeping precum, twitching in your grasp, and you can’t help but flatten your tongue against the vein on the underside of his shaft. He hisses, “Fuck,” and it’s delicious. He smells like the iron of blood and something wholly him, all man, and your lips meet the tip of his cock in a reverent kiss. He’s being patient, generous in his time with you because he’s finally fucking here: he’s with you, and you’re safe, and you’ve got your lips wrapped gently around the head of his cock. He will not ask you to rush. He will only coax you gently through giving him the pleasure he’s only let himself imagine taking from you.

You let a trail of spit fall from your mouth onto his cock, and it jumps under your teasing touches, the way you lap at him like a kitten at a bowl of milk. You’re so greedy, like he knew you’d be, but he’s so fucking close by the time you tuck your teeth under your lips and slide his cock into your mouth, deep and hot and tight, the girth of him prodding the soft walls of your throat. If you keep this up, he won’t last long enough to do all the things he wants to do with your body.

“Jesus,” groans Dave. His head tips back and his eyes find the ceiling, but that’s not fair, because your eyes are fixed on his. He keeps watching you, the fucking picture of all his fantasies, your pretty eyes wide and smudged with your mascara, your body bare for him. Tears carve paths down your cheeks as you bob your head on his cock, taking him deeper each time, choking and crying. 

Dave’s hand finds the crown of your head and rests there. “Fuck, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re good. You suck cock a lot? Hmm?” His fingers curl in your hair, and you moan around him. “Mine’s the only one you really want, though, isn’t it?” he coos. “Mine’s the only cock you need. You’re my good little slut, sweet girl, on your knees for me.”

Your throat chokes him when you swallow him down, his leaking tip prodding the back of your throat, so fucking eager to please, so good for him even though you’re leaking onto the floor. You love being treated like a slut for him. You love being the one who gets to make his chest heave, his breaths laboured with the effort not to come down your throat. Dave wants to paint your tongue and your face with his cum, but Jesus, he needs to be inside your tight little cunt, and he knows it’s what you need, too. He slips out of your throat, even as you chase his cock with your tongue, and holds you back by the hand that still rests on your head. 

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, and the little whine that pitches up in your used throat makes him drag you up onto his lap and drag his hand between your bodies, his fingers slapping lightly against your clit. You moan, rolling your hips against him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

Dave mocks your pout, yanking your head back so you’ll look him in the eyes. You look positively wrecked, makeup smeared and eyes unfocused with lust. Your cunt leaves a wet patch on his pants. “Poor thing,” he says softly, teasing his fingers through your folds. “You want to come, don’t you?”

“I do,” you say, your throat raspy. “I want to come so badly. Please let me come.”

“Mmm.” Dave acts like he’s pondering it, circling your clit slowly—too slowly—as his mouth explores your throat before he finally makes it back to your lips. He kisses you tenderly, his tongue sliding against yours, tasting himself in your mouth. He slides two fingers inside your soaked cunt and drinks down your gasp. “That what you wanted?” he breathes into your mouth. “My fingers?”

“Any—nnnngh!” you moan, rocking against his palm as his fingers curl up against a spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble. “Anything you’ll give me, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please, make me come.”

“Such a good girl,” he hums, letting you ride his fingers, licking up the sweat that beads down your neck. “Such a needy whore for me, baby. I want to hear my name when you come.”

“Mmmm, Dave,” you mewl, body keen and wanting against him, your nipples rubbing against the fabric of his dress shirt, grinding into his hand as you near your high. Another smack, this time to the side of your thigh, another soothing touch to the welt forming there, and you’re sobbing his name, coming in a sudden trill of lightning down your spine, freezing you on his hand as your eyes roll back in your head. 

He likes the way you slump against him, your face once again finding solace in his neck, nipping and sucking at him as you quiver in the aftershocks of your orgasm. He likes you so supple and malleable in his hands as he stands and wraps your legs around his hips, only to deposit you on his bed. “Spread your legs,” he orders. “I want to see the mess you’ve made of yourself.”

His words send new shocks of arousal to your core, and you ease your thighs open for him. You’re fucking soaking. Soaking and ready for him. Too bad he isn’t through with you. Dave briefly tucks his aching cock into his pants and crawls onto the bed, yanking your thighs up around his shoulders and flattening his tongue against your slit. 

Still sensitive from your orgasm, you cry out, pushing gently at his head. “Can’t… Dave…”

“Said you wanted to come, sweet girl.” His hand presses down on your belly as his tongue flicks your clit, and your eyes roll back. “Didn’t say how many times. Be good and let me taste you.”

You can only whimper as he begins to lap up your slick and lavish his attention on your clit, keeping your body flush to the sheets even as you writhe and moan. He's fucking good at this, paying the right amount of attention to your clit and knowing when to pull back when it's overwhelming. He keeps his eyes on you as he eats you out, devouring you the way he likes and making you take it. “Fuck, fuck,” you croak, white sparks snapping behind your eyes. “Daddy, I’m gonna—ah, I’m gonna—!”

He keeps his tongue firm against your clit, wiggling slightly as you soak him, coming hard and fast and without mercy. Dave smacks your thigh again, and you can't tell if he wants to send another surge of pleasure through you or if he just needs to take out the frustration of having not come yet. 

Dave pulls his cock out of his pants again, so hard it looks painful, and manhandles you until you're on your stomach. He slips a pillow under your hips and kneads your ass like he's getting out stress. You moan like a whore when you feel the tip of his cock tapping at your entrance, back arching. Dave covers your body with his and nips your earlobe. “You gonna be good, honey? Gonna let me fuck you the way you need?”

You're so desperate and dazed with lust that you reach back to grasp his cock, take him inside you—

Dave grabs your wrist and, for good measure, your other one too, pinning them at the small of your back. “That… wasn't good,” he says coolly, biting down on your shoulder. “I say what you need.”

You nod your head in absolute submission, your cheek pressed into the mattress. “I’m your good girl,” you tell him. “I’ll be good for you.”

Dave slides his cock through your wetness and notches it inside your entrance. Your moan is breathy and desperate, your cunt clenching around him, trying to suck him in deeper. He wrenches you open slowly, big thick cock splitting you in two, hot and slick and the thick haze of want. “Take me, baby,” he urges, halfway inside you and pushing deeper. “You can take me.”

“I can, I can.” You're nodding, wiggling your hips to take him inside you to the base, wanting all of him filling you, claiming you. Nobody’s ever come close to the way Dave is making you feel, and he knows it. He fucking basks in it like warm sunshine. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, hips meeting the flesh of your ass as he finally sinks in all the way. “So beautiful. All mine.” A short thrust knocks his tip against your cervix, and you cry out with the pain and the pleasure. 

“You're so big, Daddy,” you gasp, short of breath despite doing nothing but lie here.

“Yeah?” He pulls out halfway and thrusts back inside, groaning at the same time you do. “You like my big cock? You like me deep, right in your belly?” His hand slips beneath you and settles at your lower abdomen as he establishes a punishing rhythm. 

You can't breathe. You can't speak. You can't exist like this, ruined and scattered into tiny pieces, your mind floating somewhere above you in the aether. It's glorious and it's agonising and you can't even remember how words taste. 

Dave fucks you. He really fucks you, grinding deep and fast and using your body the way he wants to. You clench around him in your desperate quest to come again, the pleasure all-encompassing, liquid. He drips praise over your body like honey, encouraging your body deeper into that place of blissful nothing. Here, you relinquish control. Here, you feel. He gives you exactly what you need. 

His fingers find your clit and you scream his name. He fucks you like an animal as he lowers his body over your again, biting then tonguing the marks on your shoulder, grunting into your ear. “Dave,” you moan weakly. 

He bites again, like a punishment, his hips angling his cock deeper, somehow, sliding up against your front wall. “Spoiled,” he mutters into your skin. “Spoiled girl, you’ll want my cock all the time now, won't you?” You choke on your groan, and your core tightens as his fingers work your clit. “Who owns this little cunt? Hmm?”

“You,” comes your wrecked moan. “It's yours, Daddy. Oh, fuck, please… Daddy, please, I’m yours… I’m gonna—gonna come!” 

And you do. Christ, you clamp down on his cock, your hips bucking uselessly under him and your eyes squeezing shut as you keep him tucked so deeply inside you with your tightness, milking his cock. It works: Dave pushes your name out of his mouth in a hot breath against your shoulder, hot cum spurting into your needy cunt. You take it the way you take his cock: zealous and whining, his sweet, spoiled thing, your body sucking him in and taking every drop. 

“Dave,” you whisper, tears still streaming down your face. “‘M sorry, I got mascara on your bedsheets.”

Dave chuckles, lifting himself off you even as his body protests, seeking your warmth. “You got a lot of things on my bedsheets, sweet girl. It's okay. Take my hand.”

You turn yourself over and stand with his help, thighs quivering. “Oh,” you gasp, “wow. That was good.”

He presses his lips to your cheek. “Adorable,” he laughs. “Need to clean you up. Get your pretty ass in the shower.”

Your giggle is a little wobbly, a little drunk, but your drunken, beaming face is a reward to him. “Yes, sir.”

Dave smacks your ass as he follows you into the bathroom, watching you steady yourself on the glass doors as you step inside. “I've got class tomorrow,” you grumble. “Gonna have to teach myself how to walk again.”

“I don't know,” muses Dave, purposefully sliding his body up against yours as he reaches into the shower and sends the water streaming down over your head, “I like you like this.”

“Of course you do.” You flip your hair back and get it wet under the water while Dave strips out of his clothes. He steps inside with you and gently swipes a washcloth between your thighs, watching you shudder as he cleans the cum and slick from your thighs. 

You hold onto his forearm and stare, eyes lidded and ringed with smudged makeup, at his strong, scarred body. “You've been through a war zone,” you mutter. 

“A few of them.” Dave wrings out the washcloth and uses the water streaming down your face to wipe away your ruined mascara. You trace a scar on his pec, an old knife wound he barely remembers getting, and your eyes are so full of reverence for his past, his life, that it winds him a little. 

“How’d I get so lucky?” you whisper. 

Dave shakes his head, squirting shampoo onto his palm and lathering it in your hair. He finds he likes this: the quiet mundanity of it, the ease of being close to you, the thrill of being the one who takes care of you. “I’m not the kind of man who walks away from something he wants,” he tells you. 

Your voice is hushed, vulnerable in the wake of all he's done to you. “And you wanted me?”

Dave presses his lips to your forehead. “I still do.”

“They won't stop, will they.” Your fingers finish the job of washing your hair as Dave mirrors your actions, cleansing himself of the blood and grime of the day. “They'll keep trying to… kill you.”

“They will.” There isn't a point in being false. You can take the truth. You deserve it. “That idiot senator wants me dead. He’ll keep sending people after me until he's sure I won't blab to anyone else.”

“Anyone else?” Your throat dips as you swallow down steam and water and the scent of linen. “So he knows… about you and me.”

“He knows that you matter,” says Dave, “and—”

“And that's why he wants me dead, too.”

You're smart. He's known it since the first day. But his vision is a red mist at the thought of some fucking coward putting a target on your back just for knowing him. “He's not going to hurt you,” says Dave, a bit more forcefully than he intended, telling you and himself and the whole world. He softens his voice, smooths it over like icing on cake, kissing you on the mouth for good measure. “He wants me dead because he knows I can fuck his life over in a couple hours. You… you’re…”

You lift your brows knowingly. “Leverage?”

“Good leverage,” he says, his hand resting at the nape of your neck. “If he wants to get to me, you're the best way.”

“I don't like that, Dave.” He wants to eradicate every memory of your frown from his head. “Doesn't it scare you—being hunted like an animal?”

“You know what scares me?” He pulls your body close, your tits pressed up against his chest. His thigh nudges both of yours open. “Someone… some fucking politician… wants to take you away from me. My beautiful, smart girl.” Dave catches the gasp that leaves you when his thigh brushes your sensitive clit and swallows it down with his mouth on yours. “They want to use you. Point their guns at you, the way people do.”

“And insects never do,” you mumble, rolling your hips and sighing at the white-hot pleasure that erupts each time your clit drags along his naked thigh. 

The shower walls are thick with condensation and the closeness of your bodies is immeasurable. Dave crowds you until your back smacks wetly against the cold tile wall, and the hunger in his eyes only makes you feel wanted. His cock is stiffening against your hip, his desire cloying and clotting in your brain. 

“Daddy…”

It’s soft and pitched high, and it gets lost in the relentless pattering of the hot water against his back, the walls, the floor. Dave grabs your thigh and hauls it over his hip, sliding his cock through your folds with no warning, no abandon. You think you say his name again, but he's pushing into you in one hard thrust, cleaving you in two and baring his teeth against your jaw. And nothing matters but this. 

~

You aren't in the diner next week. You aren't at school the next day. Your contact in his phone—something new you both decided to share with one another—yields no new messages. When he calls you, it goes straight to voicemail. He wants to be reasonable. You're sick. Your phone isn't working. No—your phone is brand-new; you just bought it yourself. You were perfectly healthy when you saw him two nights ago, when he made you sit in his lap on his desk chair and fucked you until you were muffling your screams in his neck. He wants to be reasonable, but there's no reason you should be missing. 

So, that night, Dave breaks into your apartment. 

Your car isn't in your parking space: the first alarm bell. The second: your door is unlocked. The place has been left in a haste, the latch bolt sliding harmlessly against the plate as Dave gives the door a shove. It opens without the turn of a knob. He curses when he sees your purse hanging on the hook just inside. 

Dave lifts his flashlight and makes a quick sweep of the room. It’s so small —there’s barely a kitchenette and a single couch, which sits in front of a box-shaped television. He kicks aside a cushion that’s fallen to the floor and investigates the bathroom—he’s horrified to see mould and mildew so blatantly mocking you on the walls—and finds nothing in the bedroom. There’s only one bedroom. Dave opens a drawer and finds men’s boxer briefs, socks, jeans. Nothing of your warm, bright touch linger in this bedroom. What the fuck? 

You sleep on the couch every single night.

Underneath the socks in your uncle Jason’s top drawer, Dave hears a faint rattle. He picks up an amber bottle with a white cap. Blood pressure medication, supposedly. He tosses these aside and searches for more. He needs more. He needs to keep this methodical, or he will explode with anger. 

Dave slides his hand beneath the mattress. A couple more bottles, indicating his forgotten problems are perhaps not quite behind him, and a number of late-notice bills. It’s nothing. It’s fucking useless, useless… 

He wasn’t fast enough. He should never have trusted this man to stay with you. You should be living with Dave. You’ll decorate his home with plants and bright colours and your shampoo will be next to his. His home will smell of you, not just the faint tang of blood that he can’t seem to expel. 

“Fuck!” Dave yanks out Jason’s top drawer and tosses it across the room, somewhat vindicated when it smashes into splinters against the wall. It draws his eye toward the desk in the corner. The little black shape underneath it, tucked underneath the carpet. 

It’s a cell phone. Dave picks it up and finds one message blinking up at him. The battery is almost dead. 

Coordinates. 

Dave fumbles to pull out his own phone and take a picture of the screen. Then, he pockets both devices and leaves. He’s lingered too long already.

~

The coordinates take him next to the Charles River, a shipping dock whose workers seem to have left in a haste. He’s surrounded by large wooden shipping crates, rain-soaked and creaking in the lashing mist that lifts out of the river in the rainstorm that’s begun. Tarps flutter around the crates, not quite pinned down. If you’re crying out for help, there’s little chance to distinguish your voice from the rain and the general din of the city. 

It’s nearing midnight, and Dave’s cell phone begins to buzz in his back pocket. Your face lights up the screen, bright and smiling and posing extravagantly (he took it in the diner, when the two of you were alone, about to exchange phone numbers; “You’ll need a glamour shot,” you said, and Dave was happy to oblige). 

He puts the phone to his ear. “Tell me which crate you’ve put her in, and I’ll make it quick for all of you.”

“I promised I wouldn’t harm her,” says a male voice he doesn’t recognise. Another Brotherhood lackey, he guesses. “She’s being very good for us, Mr. York. Very obedient. Did you break her in for us?”

Dave will not take this bait. “Put her on the phone.”

There’s a faint rustling, and his vision goes blood-red at the sound of your little yelp of pain. “Dave,” comes your trembling voice. “Dave, I’m sorry.”

Dave begins to splash along the rain-slick pavement. Oil runoff stains the water and colours it like a prism. He has a cap on his head and the hood of his jacket is secure atop it. “Shh. None of that, beautiful girl. Are you hurt?” 

“N—no, just… No.” It isn’t a satisfying answer for him, but you’re panicking. “Jason… It was Jason. He took me.”

“Why did he take you, baby?” Dave pushes open a shipping crate and finds nobody inside. 

Your whimper indicates the man is holding you somehow, likely by the hair. “He… please… He told me he would get the money he needed.”

“Your boss offered to pay him, then?” says Dave, directing his attention briefly to her captor as he moves further east along the waterfront. He’s straining his ear for any indication of nearby voices. “In exchange for his niece?”

“More like in exchange for you. I guess he knew she’s the only way you’d come.” The man seems ecstatic with the power of holding onto such a special piece of leverage. “You’ll behave, won’t you, Dave? I know she will.”

“Dave, west! TURN WEST—”

The sound of a hand striking your cheek makes Dave jerk away from the phone and kick his foot through a nearby crate, his heart thundering with the rage that clogs his chest all the way up to his throat. The crate’s door swings open, empty. “If your girl doesn’t shut up, York, I’m going to stuff her mouth with my dick.”

His ears are ringing, the rain spitting and the wind rattling his brain around his head. This man truly believes he’ll get away with taking Dave York’s woman. It’s almost laughable. 

And it’s too late for him. Dave’s already heard your scream from a crate further down the waterfront. 

So the man on the phone can see him. Dave looks up to find a security camera fixed to the scaffolding above him, winking a red eye at him through the mist and rain. He waves, as if to an old friend. “You get off on watching me, huh?” 

“Fun to see you flail around,” says the man, “like a chicken with his head cut off.”

Dave can’t help but grin. “Keep watching.” He stops in his tracks and raises his gun to eye-level. “Sweetheart? You still there?”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “I’m here.”

“Duck,” he commands, and the shot rings out through the rain.

A little hole perforates the wooden crate, and Dave can hear your scream through the phone. He drops his shoulder to force open the door and finds his victim writhing on the floor. The shot struck him in the shoulder, but Dave puts another between his eyes. It’s merciful and too quick for what he’s done to you, but you’re what matters. And here you are, tied by your wrists and ankles to a chair, your hair matted with rainwater and an angry welt on your cheek. You cry out in relief when you see Dave kneel in front of you and cup your face in his palms. “Oh, sweet girl,” he says. “So smart. You did good, baby.”

You don’t cradle your chafed wrists to your chest or shrink away from him when you’re free, the way you should. Your arms wind up around his neck and you nearly knock him over in your rush to embrace him. “Easy,” he mumbles, burying his face in your hair, breathing in your scent mixed with the saltwater mist. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

“I know,” you whisper. “I knew you’d find me.”

He chuckles. “Your uncle didn’t make it easy for me.”

“That man…” You pull away and gesture toward the dead man on the floor. “He was the one who called Jason. Said he’d be cleared of his charges and given a huge lump of cash if he brought me to him.”

He helps you to your feet. You’re shivering like a leaf in your little dress and apron. Dave almost rips his jacket in his haste to secure it around your shoulders. “There’s going to be more,” he says. “A man as paranoid as Berkeley didn’t just send one asshole to kill me. I need you to run, sweet girl. Do you understand me? Run to the car, near the park, and stay away from the streetlights.”

You dip your chin in a nod, but a flick of your eyes over his shoulder has him stiffening. “Dave, get—!”

He’s pulling you to the ground and covering your body with his before the shot fires. When it does, it cuts clean through two walls of the crate, but another follows in its stead. Dave rolls off you, flipping onto his back, and fires at the man just visible behind the door of the crate. The first strikes his leg, which doubles him over. His brain matter falls in chunks to the wet pavement before his body crumples. Dave stands up as you crawl across the floor and dig around your captor’s dead body, producing his gun. “You know how to shoot that thing, baby?”

“Of course not!” you squeak. “Feel a bit better holding it, though.”

He flicks the safety on. “Good. Stay behind me.”

You’re dutiful in the way you follow him outside, the gun useless in your hands but Dave’s gun pointed and ready in his. The crates make it difficult, but his ears are fine-tuned to the noises of footsteps. He hears them from his left and his right simultaneously, firing one shot at the glimpse of a boot and another at a shoulder. The leftward man collapses, clutching his foot, and Dave puts a bullet in his head. The one to his right makes an almost-impressive shot from around the corner that takes out the bulb of a streetlight behind them. But his skull shatters from the impact of Dave’s flashlight striking him in the head, and he collapses. 

You’re stunned by the ease with which he kills. He's meticulous and he's accurate. The muscles in his face are set, determined, a soldier moving before your eyes. He never wavers. He never flinched nor grimaces. You wonder if he would even hear you if you uttered his name. His mission clouds his eyes and wraps cloth around his ears. It's a murderer you watch at work now, a professional one, a wraith whose eyes glimmer like oil slick in the darkness. The gun clutched clumsily in your untrained hands trembles. 

How can such a man handle you so lovingly?

He ushers you inside his car once you wind your way back through the maze of crates, but a shout of your name makes you spin around and lift the gun you have no idea how to handle. It's a cold, dead weight, trapped between your fingers. 

“Jason,” you warn, “don't come any closer.”

“Kiddo, just let me explain.” Jason lifts his hands, indicating he's unarmed. He's standing by your car, wet hair plaster to his forehead, eyes sunken and cheeks gaunt. Behind you, Dave places a hand on your lower back. He isn't lifting his own weapon. He's letting you decide. 

“You can't explain this to me,” you say through your chattering teeth. “You put me there. You traded me for money. I’ve paid everything, I’ve put up with you being high all the time, and I’ve let you sleep in my bed. Because you were family.”

“I wanted to repay you. I wanted to get a fresh start.” He stumbles forward in his haste to reach out to you, and Dave steps in front of you slightly. 

Jason scowls. “And you. Are you fucking her? You know my niece is still in college? You know you're old enough to be her father? You're fucking sick.”

Dave’s nostrils flare. “I saved her fucking life. I'm the one keeping her safe while you run around with your mouth glued to a joint. How many times has she bailed you out, huh?”

Jason lurches forward, deliberately this time, aiming a fist at Dave’s face. Dave grabs his arm before it can wind back and twists it around his back. “Stay fucking still,” he sneers into his ear. Something inside you coils tight like a poised serpent, the very depths of you inexplicably wound for need of something you cannot yet name.

You stare into your uncle’s face. “You’re the sick one. I hope you get your money, because you're leaving. Dave, can we please drop him at the police station?”

~

You can't sit still. 

Dave’s ordered you to sit on the edge of his bed while he cleans up from his massacre by the river. He hasn't let you leave his sight since last night, which means you've missed two days of school and nobody knows where you are. Your phone shattered when he murdered your captor, but Dave lent you a replacement from his desk. Apparently, he owns twelve cell phones. 

“Which one of these do you use to buy drugs?” you asked. 

“Guess you’ll find out.” Dave smirked at you and handed you a brand-new model. “If they ask for York, say I’m dead.”

You told your friends that you'd come down with a deathly case of the flu and they bought it, dutifully sending their notes to you in bulk through your group chat. Since you shut off the phone and placed it next to you on the mattress, you haven't been able to stop from squirming, your thighs rubbing together as the itch you've been fighting for hours clambers down the knobs of your spine. 

“Dave?”

He emerges from the ensuite, still drying his hands on a bath towel, his sleeves rolled to his elbows and his face freshly shaven. You know and he knows that he’s been purposefully torturing you, and now all you can do is straighten up, not-so subtly pushing out your breasts toward him. A soft whine leaves your lips at the sight of him standing above you, so strong and deadly. 

He doesn’t speak for a moment, and you wonder if he’s angry with you. You feel his knuckle brush under your chin until it’s directing your gaze, forcing you to look up at him. “Sweet girl,” he says, thumb caressing your cheekbone. “You’re all trouble. Know that?”

You bite your lip, your desire a pounding, beastly thing, clawing up your throat. “I think you should remind me.”

Dave chuckles, his hand leaving your face only to trail downward, finding the top button of his shirt, which is draped over your own body. “Wearing my clothes,” he says, circling the button with his finger until it pops out. His eyes are black, thrilled by the sight of your collarbones, flexing in and out thanks to your fluttering breaths. “Sitting so still and pretty for me…” He clicks his tongue like he’s disappointed in you. “Would you stay sitting here all night if I asked you to?”

“You know I would, Dave,” comes your shuddering sigh. 

“You’d be safe that way,” he muses. Another button comes undone, and the soft skin between your breasts tempts him closer until he’s standing between your thighs. His fingers trace your hard nipples, visible through his dress shirt. “Such a dangerous girl, going missing on me. Do you know how much you scared me?” You go to dip your head in apology, but he grasps a chunk of your hair and pulls it back. “I asked you a question, baby. Answer it.”

“I never meant to scare you,” you tell him, still seeking his touch as you push your tits against his fingers. “I was so scared… thought he would try to…”

Dave shushes you. “I know, sweetheart, I know. Do you know what I would have done to him if he did?”

You shake your head. “Tell me.”

His hand leaves your hair and winds around your throat, his thumb and index finger pressing at your pulse. “I would have cut off his dick. I would have made him watch me do it. I would take off each. Fucking. Finger.” Dave’s other hand, done fondling your tits, ghosts along your arm until it finds your hand, which he lifts to the hard outline of his bulge. “I’d make sure you never remember him touching you.” The hand on your throat squeezes, and your core floods with arousal, another whine slipping out. Dave tips his chin toward you. “You trust me to keep you safe from men like him. Don't you?”

Frantically, you breathe out a yes, your brows curving up in the middle in the delicious way he loves so much. He enjoys the delicate curve of your body against him as it seeks his. Your tits are smushed against his abdomen, your face so close your chin nearly brushes his sternum. You're warm and so soft. Dave is nearly doubled over with the affection you show him and the affection he craves to show you. But he knows what you need—to be shown that you're safe in his arms. 

You gently squeeze his length over his pants and Dave hisses, prying your wrist away and pressing your hand to your own breast. “If you’re going to tease,” he says, “tease yourself. Go on, sweet girl. Touch your pretty tits.”

You roll your head back on your shoulders as you squeeze your tits over the fabric of his shirt, pinching your nipples and puffing out soft moans of his name. Dave’s cock twitches in his pants, and he pulls it out swiftly, hard and heavy against his stomach, jerking himself slowly while he watches you. 

“So beautiful. Does it feel good?” Your eyes are fixed on his hand working his cock, another needy moan slipping past your lips. “Would you rather be the one touching me, baby? Is that what you need?”

Your tongue darts out to lick up his slit when he squeezes the base of his cock, and Dave grunts, hips lurching forward, momentarily losing control. You eagerly take the tip between your lips, but he pulls away and slaps his cock on your tongue. “Such a bad girl, not listening. Lie back.”

Your eyes are black holes, and Dave presses his palm on your sternum to guide you onto your back when you can’t seem to think through your haze of lust. He drops to his knees and shucks your panties off your legs so roughly they tear, dangling off your ankle. It only fans the flames licking at your core, and he can see the glistening wetness of your cunt, begging to be touched. “If I ask you a question,” says Dave, blowing on your cunt and making your stomach clench, making your moan pitch high, “I expect you to answer me. I know you want me, sweet girl, but you should learn to listen to me. Hmm?”

He yanks your thigh over his shoulder and parts your folds with two fingers. “I’m… oh, I’m sorry, Daddy. Please… please let me feel you. I want to feel you. I’ll be good. I’ll be—fuck!”

You squeal when he licks up your tempting slit, groaning at the taste of your sweet tang, mingled with the scent of body wash and linen and something ineffably you. “And if I want to taste you,” he says, pressing sloppy kisses to your cunt, gripping your thighs so tightly his fingers will leave bruises, “I expect you to lie down and spread your legs for me.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you gasp at the white-hot pleasure from his warm tongue lavishing attention through your folds. “Yes, Daddy, anything you want, anytime. I’ll do anything—ohhh, fuck, Daddy, please…”

A hand presses firmly against your belly to keep you grounded as he tastes his fill of you the way he wants. This is your punishment, you realise: being at his mercy, spread out like a meal for him, disregarding your pleasure and just feasting on you at his own pace. Always at his own pace. You want to curl your fingers in his hair and keep his face in your pussy, but the idea that he’s between your legs because he wants to just taste you is so delectable that you lift your arms above your head, wrists together, and refrain from urging him anywhere. He’s in charge. He wants to remind you. As if you need reminding.

Dave notices. He sees the curve of your back, your tits straining out of his shirt, your body stretched out for him like a lounging cat. He pulls away from your cunt and bites down on the flesh of your inner thigh. You yelp, the muscles in your legs flexing around his head. “You like this,” he hums, flattening his tongue against your clit. You moan long and low. “Yeah, you do. My good little slut, letting me do what I want with your body.”

“Mmmmoh!” He nips your clit and it makes you tremble, your orgasm clawing at you despite his negligence. “I’m your slut, I’m just a whore for you, your good little whore. Feels so good.”

He and his cock love your babbling. It twitches against his stomach as he laps at you, a cat at his bowl of milk, drinking you down on his tongue. Your moans grow closer together, more frequent, and he knows you’re about to come. So he pulls away from your soaking pussy. 

Your hips chase him until your mind catches up, realising he hasn’t given you your orgasm. It isn’t surprising, but it still makes you pout. “Oh, my poor girl,” says Dave, mocking your expression, crawling up onto the bed and over your body, taking your lower lip between his teeth. You try to kiss him, desperate to be touched, but he pulls away again. “You wanted to come, didn’t you?”

“Only…” You swallow thickly, the desire evident in your eyes. “Only if you want me to.”

Dave grins, his fingers sliding down to your clit and slapping it lightly. “So good for me,” he says, ducking his head again and slanting his mouth over yours. You sigh into him. “I can do whatever I want with this pussy. Tell me.”

“You can do whatever you want with my pussy,” you say between inhaling lungfuls of air as he relentlessly devours your mouth. “I’m yours, it’s yours.”

You look so beautiful spread out beneath him, steadfast in putting your trust in him even as he tore an orgasm away from you, that Dave can’t bear to withhold any longer. He guides his cock to your entrance and slides inside you without warning. You gasp, your eyes unwavering from his. 

It’s intimate like this, and he’s surprised by how much it chokes him. You’re looking at one another as he establishes a deep, grinding rhythm inside you, your legs wrapping around his waist and his mouth connecting with yours in long, sloppy kisses that leave you both breathless. Dave holds you reverently, the way a follower carries offerings to the altar, his hand around your waist and bowing your back to deepen the angle. His other hand, balanced with his elbow, cradles your head as he keeps his mouth close to yours and refuses to let you look away. 

He knows you’re getting close, and he is, too. He takes the opportunity to explore your body, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and sliding his hand up your ribs, tracing them with fascination for the way you breathe. He feels your rapid pulse under his fingers, circles your nipples with his rough fingers, and basks in the curves of your perfect, smooth body beneath him. You’re perfect. You’re everything he’s been waiting for, his sweet, clever girl. 

“You’re mine,” he says, whisper-quiet, his hips sliding against yours, deliciously slow and rubbing up on your clit in just the right way. He won’t deny you this time. 

“I’m yours,” you say, your nose nudging against his. He grins. Happy.

You come just before he does, your entire body tightening and quivering, your cunt squeezing him, ironclad around his cock. Your brows lift in pleasure and your eyes droop, your lips parting just enough for a small gasp to escape. He huffs into your hair when he comes, spilling his hot cum deep into you and bucking his hips flush to keep it snug inside. 

His body is a canopy over yours, and he finds he doesn’t want to move. You smooth his hair back, your touch so gentle and calming to his erratic heartbeat that he lets out a chest-deep sound that sounds like a purr. “You’re beautiful,” you whisper to him, and there’s so much more awe in your voice than he deserves. 

He lifts his chin to capture your mouth. His heart is swelling up into his throat. “Stay with me,” he says. 

It’s not an order and it isn’t jagged-edged. It’s him asking, pleading. It’s him opening his palm and offering a key to you. It’s soft as the brush of sunlight over your skin in the earliest hours. “I’ll stay with you,” you tell him, pressing your lips to his. “You need some touches of colour in this place.”

Dave chuckles, rolling you over until you’re lying on top of him. You’re all the colour he gives a fuck about.

~

There’s a skip in your step as you walk to his car and slide inside. Dave traps your jaw between his thumb and forefinger and pulls you toward him for a kiss before you can even tug on your seat belt. “Hi, baby.” He grins into your mouth. “How was class?”

“You know, it’s funny,” you muse, checking your reflection in the visor. “Everyone was talking about it. Apparently, Senator Berkeley was found in his home with a gunshot wound to his head. They said it was suicide.”

Dave makes a noncommittal noise. “Shame. He must’ve been caught up in something he couldn’t deal with.”

You shrug, getting situated as Dave pulls out of the parking lot. “I started reading the book you got me.”

He places his hand, palm-up, on the centre console, and you take the invitation to thread your fingers through his. “You like it?” he asks. 

You lift your joined hands to your cheek and rest it there. “I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

THE END.

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #dave york #dave york smut #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york fic #suburban murder daddy

[janaispunk]

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

[wildemaven]

strangers : poolside | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 6622 content warnings: 18+ blog; ANGST, soft!Dave, established relationship, miscommunication (like a lot), mentions of alcohol and food, workaholic Dave, morning breath, Dave’s stupid phone, talks of marital woes, slight exhibitionism, breast/nipple/clit play, a random handsome stranger, jealous Dave, talk of having or wanting children, a kiss of fluff, implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know. notes: ahh! I’m so nervous for this chapter!! But so excited for it also. I’m so glad I took my time with it so it could be exactly what it needed to be— which is kinda of a roller coaster of emotions. While the story is completely fictional, this has felt very cathartic to me because I dealt with a lot of similar thoughts/feelings as the reader. Anywho! Biggest thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for literally holding my hand through this and helping me work through it. 💕 strangers masterlist | previous | next | inspo board | playlist

The soft glow of the television bathes the hotel room in a soft ambient flicker. Faint colors and scene changes adjust the room’s atmosphere. Actors silently exchanging words back and forth, expressions all the more dramatic with the muted volume. The movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing, long forgotten, playing out in silence across the screen. 

As expected, the bed is better than anything you have ever slept in. Its plush mattress, divine and soft. Similar to what you assume it might be like to doze off among the clouds. It braces your bodies with ease through shifting positions as the evening extends into the early hours of the next day. 

The intricate structure of lace and mesh material felt exquisite on your skin. Molding over your body like it was made for you and only you. The cups of the teasing bra cradling the weight of your breast, pushed up on display, enticing enough to bring a man to his knees— the plan at least. Taking your time, admiring yourself in the bathroom mirror once everything was in place. Your eyes roaming over your body, letting your hands follow suit. Imaging all the ways Dave would map over your skin in the same manner. The prospect for what was to come was thrilling. Desire blooming in your veins. Arousal warm and already pooling in the crotch of your panties. It was evident, your body filled with pent up lust, ready to be satiated by your husband. 

You delicately dotted drops of perfume to your skin— base of your throat, behind your ears, inner wrists. The warmth  from your pulse points amplifying the lush fig and sandalwood notes, blending with your natural pheromones instantaneously. Before rejoining Dave, you slipped a hotel robe over your body, concealing the lacey number with wild anticipation.  

His hands, gentle where they met your body with a soft caressing motion. Not rushed or seeking more than they were ready for. Blazing heat emitted from him, scorching your skin with a fieriness you so desperately craved. They stilled. Lingered. 

Dave. Your voice cautious, velvety sweet, calling out to him. 

The sounds that fell from his lips were beyond anything you could have prepared for. A booming roar reverberated through him. Filling the room. Consuming you. As quickly as the rousing fuse had been lit, it had just as quickly fizzled out mid burn. 

Dave’s snoring was like a shock to the system. The warm buzz of arousal dissolved into a cold emptiness as you lay in bed alongside Dave’s sleeping form. No amount of lace or lack thereof, seemed to be enough to seduce the sluggish man, already nodding off when you had come slinking out from the bathroom. Propped up on pillows, his eyelids growing heavy with each forced blink as stared blankly at the television. His dinner plate picked over and discarded onto the nightstand. 

This scenario you knew all too well— and regularly. The build up, always so hopeful. The prospect of Dave having his way with you, pure exhilaration. Your body so desperate, in need of a release that didn’t hail from a hurried moment alone with a tiny vibrating wand before crawling into bed with Dave’s sleeping form.

Your brain refused to shut off as you lay staring up at the ceiling, willing away tears. You finally settled on the only thing that made sense at this early hour.  He no longer desired you like he once did. No amount of time or vacations away could restore that connection. Then there was also that outcome that you dreaded the idea of entertaining— maybe it just wasn’t you he desired. 

*

The whole evening had been on a constant loop. Replaying and taking precedence over your usual fictional fantasies that unfolded upon entering a heavy slumber. The hotel suite balcony offered a reprieve from the room, quietly sipping your coffee alone. 

It was mid morning when you decided to crawl out of bed, in desperate need of something to numb the dullness that settled behind your eyes. Sleep did little to ease the tornado of thoughts that swept through your mind as the sun rose over the coast of California. Your brain had a funny way of tormenting you with fabricated information. On high alert the minute it sensed uncertainty, in search of answers to unasked questions.

As the coastal fog burned off, you were able to properly take in the view. A colony of gulls flew by, their collaborative squawking was every bit as annoying as it was captivating. 

Fellow early risers strolled the sidewalks below, coffees and large water bottles in tow, all absorbed in their little private worlds. Couples hand in hand, in search of  the perfect ocean view to start their day. A strange feeling of resentment had crept in. These strangers, carrying on with their lives, seemingly unaware of the jealousy you harbored for their happiness. 

Your thoughts trail back to Dave and the evening again. It was only the first day and the optimism around this vacation was starting to wane. 

“Shit— I must have really needed some fucking sleep.”  Dave groans as he joins you on the balcony, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sheet wrinkles embedded into the side of his face matched the similar ones on his cotton pajama pants and gray sleep shirt. His sleep etched voice is one of your favorite things to wake up to each morning. “I don’t even remember falling asleep at all.” 

His body molds into yours, caging you in against the edge of the balcony. He’s warm and soft first thing in the morning. Like a moth to a flame, his lips find your skin. Tiny wet pecks from the base of your neck to your temple. 

There was a point in time where things in your marriage felt very easy and Dave wasn’t always so invested in his work. You never felt like you were competing with files and phone calls for his undivided attention. The infatuation he held for you was palpable, leaving little room for doubt or worry. 

When you met Dave there was an enigmatic quality about him. Neither of you were in a relationship or seeking out one, but also not completely opposed to the prospect of exploring one if something happened to fall into your laps. A chance meeting at a bar when his drink had literally fallen into your lap led to the rest of the evening spent tucked away in a dimly lit booth. The buzz of alcohol had you talking his ear off, and he allowed you to do so, consuming every little detail about you. 

Dave shared minimal information about himself. Very on brand for his reserved but alluring demeanor. Aside from basic introductory  facts, the only real thing you knew about him was his recent discharge from the military and his onboarding career in the CIA. 

By the end of the night, you felt there was something intriguing about Dave, completely drawn to him. He was kind, generous and clearly the greatest listener. Ideally, he was someone you could see yourself with, wanting to know the ins and outs of who he was. So much so, you gave him your number. Scrawled across a beer soaked napkin, the ink bleeding out as each digit was carefully written out. He even said he’d call, leaving you with a kiss on your cheek before rejoining his buddies and calling it a night. 

It was a week before you heard from him again, nearly giving up any hope he would be even remotely interested in you. 

You learned that Dave’s walls were strong. Built of the strongest concrete. Resistant and impermeable to the elements. Over time his walls couldn’t withstand the depth at which you were willing to endure for him. Slowly crumbling and exposed. Finding that underneath the rubble was a man who was all in. A man who loved hard and never once made you question his loyalty to you. 

“We can blame it on the jet lag.” You laugh softly into the coffee mug, taking another sip— definitely in need of more. 

“Good morning, Honey.” He says, nudging his aquiline nose into your cheek, instinctively turning into him. 

“Morning, Babe.” Dave turns you, the top of your robe slides off your shoulder— exposing the lace set you were still wearing.  

“You’re still wearing it. Didn’t even get the chance to peel it off of you like I wanted to last night.” Pulling at the robe belt, the front falls open. Dave’s eyes widened, taking you all in, his irises now a deeper shade of his usual brown. “

“Yeah, well—“ You huffed, suppressing the impulse to acknowledge the hurt that was still ever-present. 

“Fuck— Baby, I’m sorry. I'm two for two now. Let me make it up to you?” 

Dave’s hands breach the inside of your robe. His hips flush to you— he’s hard, morning wood ready and eager. His deft fingers slide up the length of your spine, your skin covered in goosebumps once he reaches the clasp of the bra. 

“Morning coffee breath— I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” Your head swerves his oncoming kiss, pulling the front of your robe closed again. 

A hitch in your confidence. Curling in on yourself as you dislodge your body from where he has you pinned. That hot coiling response building in your lower abdomen, moments ago desperate for the way Dave wants you, now subsiding to a low simmer.

“You— um, have those calls you still need to make this morning?” You ask him, standing half way through the door, turning enough to catch the sunlight illuminating the bafflement on Dave’s face. 

“Uh— Yeah. Still need to make those calls.” Dave’s dejected tone hits you like a bucket of ice. His head hanging and palms digging into his eyes. 

“How long do you think it should take?”

“Few hours, give or take. Done by noon at the latest.”

“Okay. Maybe, if you’re up for it when you’re done— maybe we can go to the pool? Lounge a bit. Have some drinks. I got some new bathing suits, and have been dying to wear them. I think you might even like them.” An olive branch in the form of you served on a platter wearing minimal clothing. The likelihood of Dave accepting is rather favorable. 

It’s unmistakable, devouring you— all conspicuous like and intense. Surveying every inch of your form leaning against the doorway. 

Up the length of your smooth bare legs. The front of the robe flapping with the ocean breeze offering a peek of thigh and black lace. The fingers of your free hand toy with the collar, making it lay askew across your chest. A single breast exposed to cool morning air, nipple tight against the sheer material. 

His gaze finally meets yours, shoulders lowering to their normal level. The slightest lift at the corner of his mouth, tip of his tongue gliding over his full bottom lip. Both of you landing on the same page, temptation reciprocated with blatant irresistibility. 

“Yeah— Yeah, we can definitely do that.” He replied, his smile widening, the corner of his eyes crinkled— the Dave you fell in love with all those years ago in his truest form. 

“Okay. I’ll order us some breakfast then. More coffee too. I drank the whole pot.” There’s a giddy feeling erupting inside of you. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve seen Dave smile— genuinely smiling. 

“Not surprised by that one bit. Hey—“ Capturing your attention before you’ve completely left the balcony. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do. I love you, too.”

Maybe it’s complacency that makes you feel like things within your marriage are stagnant, even borderline dull as of recently. The lack of regular intimacy, a normal thing all couples encounter at some point through their years together, not a telltale sign of extramarital meandering. Maybe that’s also not a bad thing. Just a season of life. A small hiccup in your otherwise normal and loving relationship. 

*

As promised, it’s noon by the time Dave wraps up his final phone call and you’re both sitting atop the roof of the hotel. Basking in the sweltering rays of the California sun is exactly what was needed after being cooped up in the room all morning. 

Breakfast in bed while Dave paced the length of the balcony. One phone call after the next, all varying in degrees of duration and intensity based on how animated Dave’s hand gestures and contorted expressions were. You had delivered his plate of eggs, sausage and toast during his first call, leaving it on the small table along with a fresh pot of coffee. He kissed you and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before sinking his teeth into the burnt buttered bread and continuing his meeting or whatever it was he was doing. 

The minute he walked in announcing he was finished, your two piece suit was on and you were throwing Dave’s swim trunks at him from across the room. Tote bag containing pool lounging necessities— sunscreen, sunglasses, current book, wallet —was packed and waiting by the door. Your sheer excitement filled the room, a contagious feeling in the way Dave was mildly laughing at your frantic antics. 

Either you both were the only ones staying at this hotel or no one else found joy in a gorgeous rooftop pool like you did. In the few hours spent lounging poolside, there was one, maybe two, other guests that also had an afternoon by the pool on their itinerary, too. There was a silent understanding among everyone that they stay in their respective spaces, evenly spaced out.  

No one was complaining though. Fewer people meant less people lined up for cocktail refills at the bar. Fewer obnoxious conversations you didn’t have to drown out while focusing on the romance novel you were close to finishing. Zero avoidance of bodies in the water while Dave and you took a dip to cool off. Aside from visiting the pacific, this is how you intended to spend the rest of your days in California. 

The moment you dive into your book, time and everything around you becomesa faint distraction from the fictional world you're absorbed in. The sheriff with his cowboy drawl and ridiculously handsome mustache, falls for the sweet baker. A reunion of past lovers, doing life together somewhere on the east coast in the small town they both reside in. A typical smitten cowboy vying for her love and attention at any chance he gets. There’s a permanent smile plastered across your face, dog-eared corners for future you to return to with the intention to relive the passages all over again. Page by page, you’re so engrossed with their whirlwind romance— you never want it to end. 

The book consumes you longer than you planned for. So much so, you're unaware of the fact that Dave is no longer immersed in the LA Times he picked up in the hotel lobby earlier. The inked paper now folded neatly and discarded on the ground next to your tote.

Dave’s tortoise colored shades blocking out the sun and hiding the fact that he’s passed out. For how long, you’re not sure. Breathing is light and rhythmic. His usual thundering snore trades for small puffs of air from his parted lips. His bare golden chest, now a pale shade of red— shit!

Folding the current page of the book, tossing it to the end of your lounge chair, you sit up in search for more sunscreen for Dave, and yourself. Sifting through the contents of your tote, finding the bottle conveniently at the bottom. Hating the feeling of residual lotion getting between your jewelry, you remove your rings and toss them into a secured pocket inside the tote. 

“Dave? Babe, wake up!” Gently nudging his bare shoulder to wake him. 

“Hmmm—“ Dave grumbles a string of incoherent sleep laden words, lifting his head in your direction. 

“Sorry. You passed out and I was so caught up in my book, I didn’t realize the umbrella shade wasn’t covering us anymore. You’re not completely burnt, but we’ve been here for a while. Sit up and let me put some more sunscreen on you.” You motion for him to sit forward, then squeeze a heaping amount of lotion in your hand, tossing the back into the tote. 

Dave hissed, his back arching as you smooth the lotion over his warmed skin, allowing himself to ease into your touch after a few tensed moments. His head hangs below his shoulders as you continue to work the sunscreen over every inch of him that’s exposed to the blazing sun. 

“Fuuuuck— that feels nice.” He groans when your touch switches to a different pressure. Adjusting your focus from protecting him from the harmful rays to pampering him, working out the built up tension he carries around daily. 

Your fingers dig into the meat of his back as they glide up the length of his spine, pinching and squeezing over the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the tender spot in his neck he’s been rubbing at for the better part of the last few weeks, craning his neck to the side. So relaxed you can barely make out his mumbled appreciation. “That fucking knot has been bothering me— Ouch! Fucking hell, woman!” 

“Shh! So dramatic.” You laugh, easing up on the pressure. Your hands still lingering, smoothing over his broadness, taking advantage of the closeness. 

“Oh, quit it. Those hands always were fucking magic, though. Already feels better when I move it.” Demonstrating how limber and loose it feels, rolling his head from side to side. 

Were. His use of past tense doesn’t go unnoticed. It might have just been an unintentional slip, but its use isn’t lost on you in the slightest. It feels like it’s been ages, since you had explored each other—  more than just a fleeting brush of hands. Reveling in an endless honeymoon phase, well beyond the traditional sense. You can only assume he had that same realization too, hence his choice in using were instead of are. But this moment feels too good to dwell on the logistics of proper past and present tense, so you push the thought aside. 

“I’m sure if you play your cards right, there’s plenty more magic these hands can do later.” You playfully purred, not missing the way Dave’s eyebrows jut up from behind his sunglasses— that catches his attention. 

You settle back into your lounge chair, sliding the straps of your bikini top down and off your arms, turning it into a makeshift strapless top as you prepare to cover yourself in a fresh layer of sunscreen. 

 “What are you doing?” Dave tilts his head forward, just enough so he can peer at you over his glasses. 

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m reapplying some on myself, too.” Running the oily lotion up your arms and shoulders. 

“Here. Let me help you. Seems only fair.” His hand reaches out to you.  

“It’s fine, Dave. I can manage.” 

You’re not sure why you're shocked by his offer. Probably because you just assumed he would be diving back into reading up on worldly news. Top slimy politician was fighting for his life against rather damning accusations— the man is guilty, solely based on public opinion polls and your inherent duty as a woman to always believe the woman. Research shows more couples are putting their careers first, waiting to have children well into their thirties— that one does catch your eye, making a mental note to snag the article at some point. Sure, you can manage, but you also don’t want to. Not with him right here, so willing and capable. 

“Don’t be stubborn, Baby. And don’t think I won’t drag that sweet ass of yours over here if I have to. Give me the bottle and sit down.” 

It feels incredible. You have to remind yourself that you’re both in a public setting. This isn’t the time nor the place to let the salacious side of you self-indulge, but Dave’s hands are inducing the most carnal thoughts and it’s taking everything in you to not haul him back up to the room. 

Dave had practically hauled you into the chair. Maneuvering you both into a comfortable sitting position, his legs spread and feet planted firmly on the ground and you practically sitting in his lap. 

The task at hand is long forgotten, no longer a priority or even a relevant thought as you melted into him. His chest firm against your back, thighs caging and tight against your own. 

It’s when his hands cup your breast that nearly sends you into another dimension, so brazen and menacing. A practiced musician, slowly plucking each string of his beloved instrument as the chords play the intro to his well rehearsed song. Rolling your peaked nipples between his fingers, the fabric of your top adding just the right amount of pinched pulsation. Your eyes fluttering shut as your head falls back onto his shoulder, stifling a moan as pleasure surges through you. 

“I swear to god, Dave— fuck! Someone is going to catch us! ahh! Y-you need to s-stop before…” 

“Hmmm. I don’t know, Baby— I think you want them to see. Want them to catch my hands all over you. Hear the sounds I’m able to pull from you. I could probably fuck you right here and no one would even care.” Dave murmurs into your ear. A husked sonorous tone that has you completely surrendering to him. 

He seems to have this whole thing thoroughly thought out in a brief amount of time. Keen to his surroundings, already having scanned the entire area, aware of the people situated in cabanas on the far corner of the pool— paying no mind to either of you. His methodical nature takes hold, even as exposed as you are, he’d never put you in any situation he didn’t have complete confidence in. 

“Dave—“ Your body writhes with each continuous change in motion, the way he’s oscillating between a dizzy tweak of your nipples and the sudden dart of his tongue grazing your ear lobe. 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you. It’s been so long— fucking miss the way you feel, Baby.” Fuck. He’s not wrong. 

You might have even mentioned you would be into it at some point. All vulnerable and the slightest possibility of being detected. It was more thrilling than you had expected it to be. You weren’t even ashamed how you were so absolutely turned on by your own boldness. 

“Please—“ 

“I bet you’re fucking wet for me too. Hmm? Would take much— pull those skimpy little bottoms to the side, bet I’d slide right in.” God you were! Unquestionably so, and throbbing. 

His hand traveled to where you’ve been craving him for so long, fingers brushing the top of your bathing suit bottoms.  

“Christ! Don’t you d-dare put those lotion covered fingers anywhere near my— Fuuuuck!”

Dave wouldn’t dare, but that doesn’t mean he won’t work around it. His hand cupping your clothed mound, your eager hips rocking against the heel of his palm. His face smashes into your cheek when he feels how wet you are, your bottoms sticky with arousal and clinging to your pussy as he slides two fingers back up to your aching clit. Groaning as he takes your lobe between his teeth and gently bites down. 

“Tsk tsk!” Clicking his tongue in a menacing manner. “Eyes open, Baby. Need you to keep watch, can’t have anyone seeing you while you fall apart.”

You’ve missed this side of him. Spontaneous sex was always something that was a regular occurrence in your early relationship even well into your marriage. You always looked forward to the days he’d come home without so much as a hello when he walked through the front door. His briefcase and coat were abandoned somewhere in the entryway— I missed you so much today. Need you right now —and then he was fucking you like a starved man against the wall in the hallway. 

“Dave—“ Your lashes flutter, the sun unforgiving as you fight to keep your eyes focused on your surroundings. Your body so desperate for pleasure, so willing to succumb, just needing a little help to get there.

Each tender circle he draws over your clit has your brain muddled with bliss. A restrained whimper escapes, doing your best to concentrate as Dave continues to work you into a euphoric mess. But it’s so hard when your body has been yearning for this, all of this, for so long. 

Your nails bite into his thighs as your lower abdomen begins to tighten. 

“Baby, you’re gonna have to be quiet. Those gorgeous sounds are gonna get us in trouble.” Fuck! Almost there! So fucking close—

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

“Dave— is that…” The lounge vibrates, halting Dave’s movements. The orgasm that was just starting to barrel towards you, vanishing from your grasp. 

“Shit! I, uh, think someone saw us—“ What?! No one is even paying attention!

Dave extricates himself from the chair, adjusting his sunglasses and his pronounced erection bulging under his swim trunks. He hastily grabs for some things as you sit perplexed by the sudden change in his demeanor. Your sexy audacious husband is gone before your eyes— leaving you with the tight lipped cryptic Dave, who you can’t seem to get a read on. 

“What the fuck, Dave!” Watching as he slips on his sandals and throws his shirt over himself, playing no mind to a single button. 

“Let’s finish this later— when we get back to the room, hmm? I’m gonna… go get us more drinks.” He says as he kisses the top of your head and heads in the direction of the bar. Hoping he brings back some shots, because you’re gonna need something strong to take the fucking edge off. 

“Yeah— sure…” You say. Stunned and breathless.

*

You're not sure if you want to cry, scream or laugh as you crawl back into your chair. Maybe a mixture of all of them. What a sight that would be. 

That brief glimpse of the fun adventurous Dave was intoxicating, even now your body is still buzzing and aroused. There’s a pang in your chest at how quickly he was able to mold back into the man you’ve needed for the past year, yearned to have back. Then instantly closed off and distant as if it never happened. Maybe the sun was getting to you, that whole moment some fucking hallucinated fantasy. 

Rather than dwell on it, you push the hurt aside. You reach for your book and settle back into the chair. Finding where you left off and jumping back in with the handsome sheriff, who literally worships the ground that this woman walks on— must be nice. 

“S’cuse me ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but is this seat taken?” A deep voice breaks your concentration, realizing he’s in fact asking you if the unoccupied seat next to you is available. 

A man in his mid forties, maybe early fifties is standing at the foot of the chair next to you. Your sunglasses hide the fact that you're giving him a once over, noting every detail about this random stranger who’s decided of all the empty seats, he wants the one next to you. 

His hair is slightly disheveled in a deliberate manner. Peppered streaks of gray throughout his curly locks. He’s wearing green and red plaid swim shorts and a worn dark blue t-shirt, kind of an odd pairing but it seems to work for him. You notice a dimple hidden beneath the gray scruff that almost hides his angular features. He seems harmless and rather handsome— plus, it would be rude to turn him away with no explanation. 

“Nope. Feel free to use it.” You smile at him kindly and go in search of the words you had just read. 

“Thanks so much.” He says as he removes his shirt and settles down on the lounge chair. 

“Of course. It’s no problem at all.” You tell him. 

You don’t even dare to look in his direction. You imagine this is what Eve felt like, tempted and allured by carnality in the form of an apple. Except your carnal desire is a fizzling orgasm your husband couldn’t even be bothered to deliver, now reawakening at the sight of this beautiful man. 

You would never act on anything, even as beautiful as he was, you were married and you love Dave— but that didn’t mean you couldn't admire, sunglasses masking your lingering eyes. 

“I’m Joel by the way. Joel Miller.” His hand outstretched to you, that damn dimple even more pronounced when he smiles. 

“I take it you’re not from around these parts are you now, Joel.” You give him your name and return the handshake— his grip is rather firm, but friendly. 

 “What gave it away?” He laughs. There’s a hint of southern drawl woven into his rich voice. 

“Well, you don’t seem like the California boy type for starters. Not that that’s a bad thing— I just get the impression you’re far from home.” You fold another page and drop your book into your bag, your attempt at reading sidelined again. 

“You’d be correct then. Texas— born ‘n raised. Since we’re makin’ impressions, I’m gonna guess you’re not from ‘round here either?” He looks over to you, his arms crossed over his tanned chest. The breeze catching a few of his curls, tossing them about. 

“You would also be correct. So what brings you all the way west, cowboy?” 

“My daughter, actually. She’s gettin’ married this week. Fiancé’s family is out here and they’ve got connections and what not, so they’re able to do it here at the hotel. They put me up in one of the suites, bein’ I am the father of the bride an’ all.” 

“Oh! Congratulations then. I’m sure you’re so excited then.” 

“Yea’. Crazy seein’ her all grown up an’ goin’ off on her own. Still got one more though. She’s turning 16– little wild thing she is. Keeps me on my toes, but I love her for it.”

You get the sense that being a father is one of his favorite things. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he started talking about his kids. 

“You and your wife must be so proud.”

“Nah, no wife— or girlfriend. Jus’ me and my girls. So, now that I’ve bothered you with my life story. What brings you out this way to California?” 

What am I even doing in California? You think to yourself. It’s then you catch sight of your husband at the bar. Dave is already looking in your direction, leaning against the wood counter, waving at you with his phone glued to his ear. 

“See that guy over at the bar? The one talking on the phone.” You wave back at Dave. You pick up on the shift in his demeanor from where you're sitting. His jaw clenched and brows furrowed enough you can make out the deep lines across his forehead. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shooting daggers at Joel— but you do know better, and that’s exactly what’s happening. “That’s my husband. We’re supposed to be here relaxing— not working. But he’s over there taking a phone call, when he was going to grab us more drinks and I’m here relaxing. Maybe one day he’ll actually show some interest in me again— until then it’s just work work work. Geez— I’m sorry to dump all of that personal shit on you. Like you even care about a stranger's marital problems.”  

“No need to apologize— I get it. My ex and me had our own issues. Tried to work through them, for the sake of the kids n’ all.” He says, waving off your apology.  

“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well?” You look out over the pool, catching a few gulls passing over. You can already sense his heavy answer before he even gives it to you. 

“Well, she’s my ex for a reason. But it’s for the best. And not saying that’s what’s gonna happen for you. We love our kids and do this whole co-parentin’ thing better than when we were married. Umm— y'all got any kids?”

“Uhh— no, no kids. Yet… I think? I mean, we both talked about once our careers were established we would start trying. And we did try for a bit, but never got pregnant, which we were okay with— figured it would happen when it happens. But now, I’m not really sure if it’s what he wants anymore.” You pick at the polish on your nails. 

You realize it’s been awhile since you and Dave readdressed the conversation about having kids. It’s always been idling in the back of your mind. Becoming a mother was something you would love to do. With Dave never really ever being present or interested in any sort of in-depth conversation, you haven’t really discussed where you both stand now on the topic. 

“Have you asked him?”

“No. I haven’t. I probably sh—“

You’re cut off when Dave reappears, holding nothing but his phone and wallet. 

“Hey, Sweetheart!” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, his tone a slightly higher pitch than usual, though he tries to hide it as he bends to kiss the top of your head. 

“Babe, this is Joel. He’s here for his oldest daughter’s wedding. Joel, this is my husband Dave. Where’s our drinks?” Attempting to ease the weird tension he brought back with him instead of your drinks. . 

Dave’s glaring at Joel. His lips pressed in a tight line and his nostrils flared. Irritated? No, it’s jealousy. He’s jealous and it’s oozing from him. Dave was jealous at the attention, all innocent and friendly, that you were receiving from another man. 

“Uh, nice to meet you.” Dave reaches over you, taking Joel’s hand in his. He’s friendly enough, even though his smile looks rather forced. “We hate to run out on you like this, Joel— we’ve got dinner reservations later on and the sun is starting to get to me. You don’t mind if we head to the room early, Babe.”

“Yeah, of course, Baby. Let’s go— you probably need more water and some rest before dinner.” You get up from the chair to pull your cover up dress on and begin to gather everything between yours and Joel’s chair, throwing it haphazardly back into your bag. “It was so nice meeting you, Joel. Hope your daughter has a beautiful day and you have a great time.”

“Thank you. Now you two get outta here and enjoy your evening. My brother is wanderin’ around somewhere. I’m sure he’ll end up here at some point. Nice meetin’ y'all.” Joel says, giving a cordial nod and a two finger wave. 

You call out to Dave when you realize he’s already halfway to the exit, hoping he’ll snap out of whatever this thing is he’s doing. Knowing it’s more than just the sun that’s bothering him. 

“Dave, what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask, stepping into the elevator with him. 

“I’m good. Got a bit of a headache. Probably just too much sun.” His thumb smashes into the floor number. The elevator doors slowly obstructing the rooftop view. 

*

The walk back to the room felt like it was never ending. The slap on your sandals against the carpeted floor and exchanged hello’s with the sweet old lady dragging far more bars than she could handle were the only sounds echoing through the long hallway. 

Dave’s body, all broad and inflexible, blocked the room door as he searched for the key card in his wallet. 

“Dave? Are you going to talk to me and tell me what’s actually going on?” You ask softly. 

The door beeps and Dave pushes it open. He seems to not have lost all his senses because he holds it open for you. 

“Dave, will you at least look at me— please?” You toss everything you’re carrying onto the bed, watching him walk over to the floor to the large windows. 

Even from behind, you know he’s wearing his sharp scowl. Proven by the way his hip is cocked out and on hand resting on his waist, head hanging with his attention on the floor. Too embarrassed to acknowledge he might have overreacted up at the pool. 

“Dave, were you jealous?.” You ask, your voice velvety and sweet. Taking a few tempered steps, you close the distance between you and where he’s standing, needing him to know everything was okay. You smooth over his solid back, all brooding with his shoulder blades tightly drawn together. One hand sliding around to his chest and the other reaching for the hand hanging at his side, intertwining your fingers with his, your grip tightening around him. “Baby— you were, weren't you? It’s okay if you were, you know. It’s obviously a natural reaction to have. I know I’d react the same way if it were you and some gorgeous woman. But baby, you know I only have eyes for you and only you— always. I love you, Dave.”

“I love you and I’m sorry.” Dave sighs, his hand squeezing back. I overreacted and shouldn’t have— it's implied without him actually voicing it, but you know he means it. 

“Did you still want to go out for dinner? If you’re not feeling up to it, we can just order in again so you can rest.” You ask him, resting your nose and lips against his sun warmed skin, breathing him in. 

His aroma is pungent, but familiarly pleasant. A subtle note of coconut blends with his trademark spicy musk and sweat. It reminds you of the summer while you were dating, Dave whisked you away to Rehoboth Beach on the coast of Delaware. Renting out a beach house on the water where you spent every morning watching the sun flee the horizon from the front porch. Evenings spent walking near the water’s edge, recounting your favorite parts of the day and dreaming of a future together.

“Yeah, we can still go out. I just— I need a minute. Gonna get some fresh air.” He says, turning his head to tell you over his shoulder. 

“Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower then.” You kiss the nape of his neck before you leave, grabbing the robe off the accent chair as you head to the bathroom. 

At the flick of the switch, a soft glow of light cascades from the decorative wall sconces. Everything becomes very automatic as you move through the room, placing the robe over the sink,  ridding yourself of your pool attire, thrown into a growing pile in the corner of the room. Intent on unwinding, trusting the spray of hot water will alleviate the weight of today’s tension before going out with your husband, until you hear Dave’s voice fading as he walks out into the balcony, muffled by the distant waves and passing cars. 

“Hey, Ashley. It’s Dave, sorry about earlier…”

Ashley. It’s light and beautiful, and yet feels like the most threatening thing to have ever pierce through your heart. All your emotions flowing, congealing as one giant mass within your ribcage. Its numbness best describes the way you feel, hollowing out the pain in your chest. It's too much to deal with or even believe. You shut the door, avoidance being one of your worst traits— but if you don’t confront it, it doesn’t exist. 

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[absurdthirst]

Property of Dave York {Dave York x F!Nanny!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.2k

Warnings: Voyeurism, video surveillance, masturbation, kidnapping, threats of violence, coercion, dub-con, derogatory language, gun play, spanking, oral sex (male receiving ) rough sex, choking, guilt, forced cuckolding, cream pie, anxiety, break up texts, murder, fingering, pussy slapping, sex toys, anal fingering, anal, double penetration, aftercare, forced imprisonment

Comments: Carol's offer of the York family cabin for a romantic weekend away for you and your boyfriend turns dark and deadly when Dave shows up. Unhappy with how you are being fucked and deciding to take you for himself.

🚨🚨DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - this story contains dark theme of coercion, dub-con due to deadly threats, murder, imprisonment - do not read if this bothers you🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Are you sure?” You ask Carol, eyes wide as she offers to let you use the family cabin for the weekend. 

“Absolutely. I'm heading out of town to see my mom with the girls. Dave will be here and we want to reward you for all of your hard work. You’re so good with the girls and do so much above and beyond. We want to reward you.” Carol offers you a sweet smile. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know what to say.” You admit and Dave smiles, “just say yes.” 

You nod, overwhelmed by how good the Yorks treat you, “th-thank you.” You reply and they both smile. It’s a reward beyond your dreams to get to spend the weekend in the woods with your boyfriend at the York family cabin. Little do you know that Dave hates the idea. 

You were hired about a year ago to be the live-in nanny to the York family. At first, they seemed like any other suburban dream but you began to notice small details that tipped off the fact that maybe Dave isn’t the man he says he is. The blood stained clothes on the floor in the mud room late one night and he told you he cut himself yet that was too much blood for an injury you couldn’t see. Then the random calls which meant Dave would disappear for days on end after. 

The weirdest thing is the man’s internet history. When trying to search the computer for Molly’s schedule, you accidentally came across a page that detailed the internet history of the house and you, being curious, clicked on some of the links. Porn. But not your average vanilla stuff. This was bondage, it was BDSM. It was rough. Fuck, that must be Dave. The time stamp was the middle of the night and you know Carol can’t survive without her sleep. 

You hate to admit it but you touched yourself to thoughts of Dave treating you like that. He’s so sexy, authoritative, and secretive. Maybe that makes him sexier. Well, certainly when compared to Johnny, your sweet boyfriend who won’t even so much as spank you. Still, you can’t get involved in any way. This is your boss and you’d be risking your job and home and a mortifying rejection since you know Dave doesn’t want you like that. No, you’ll enjoy the cabin this weekend with Johnny and maybe you can get off thinking of dirtier things while your boyfriend sweetly goes down on you.

The smile on Dave’s face is a very practiced one. One that doesn’t show the anger, that only flashes for a brief second in his eyes before he blinks it away. Carol hadn’t talked about this with him and he wants to snatch the keys away from you as his wife holds them for you to take. Instead, he smiles. “Just say yes.” He watches as you sputter and take the keys to the cabin he had bought and was normally a weekend getaway from him and the girls. Often when he needed to recuperate from a rough mission or a job had gotten too close. Why the fuck had Carol decided to give his fucking cabin to the nanny for the weekened ot use as a fucking sex room? That dipshit you were dating wouldn’t know what the fuck he was doing. Could he even build a fire? He scoffs to himself and grinds his teeth, furious as he thinks about that fucker touching you. It’s bad enough when you have weekends off and you come home smelling like sex and cheap ass beer like you were at some frat party. Probably had been. “You know how to get there, right?” He asks you, knowing he hasn’t told you where the cabin is although Carol might have. 

You nod, “Carol gave me the coordinates. Johnny is pretty good at navigating so we shouldn’t have a problem. It’s okay if I take him, right?” You ask, biting your lip. Fuck, Dave wants to say no but he knows that won’t help him. Carol can’t get suspicious of his desires otherwise you’ll be gone and he can’t allow that. “Of course you can take Johnny.” Carol promises and you grin. 

“Thank you so much.” 

Carol nods, “don’t think anything of it. It’s all set, right Dave?” 

He swallows down his annoyance, “it’s all set.” He offers you a sickly smile that has your stomach knotting and Carol pats his hand, “excellent.” She winks and you grip the keys, eager to tell your boyfriend about the weekend away.

****

“You girls be good for your mother, and grandma and grandpa, okay?” Dave winks at Alice and reaches out to tug on one of Molly’s pigtails. 

“Daddy!!!” Molly shrieks, batting his hand away as she giggles and he chuckles. 

“I mean it.” He raises his eyebrows at them before moving up to the driver’s side window where Carol is already behind the wheel. “Drive carefully, honey.” He urges, knowing that while he might not love her like he probably should, she is important to him. Plus he wants his girl’s to be safe. While he feels like there is something missing inside him, not able to really connect with his wife, he loves his children. “Call me when you get to your moms.” He leans in and presses his lips to hers quickly before he pulls away. His plans for the weekend have changed and he needs his wife to leave on time, so he had helped her pack up the Mercedes. 

**** 

“Wow. This place is sweet.” Johnny grins as you enter the cabin. He’s carrying your travel bag and you admire the decor of the cabin. It’s simple but rustic and you love it. You love being out in the woods, the sound of nature, and of course, being there with your boyfriend. He’s sweet and kind and everything you should want and this weekend you’re going to try and remind yourself of that. Johnny sets your bags down, reaching for you to pull you close, his hands squeezing your ass. “And the best thing is not having to sneak around. We have the whole weekend to do whatever we want.” Johnny kisses along your neck and you smirk, knowing he’s eager to touch you. Has been since you left the York house.

The rustic charm of the house hides the sophisticated camera system. Hidden discreetly in areas that won’t be noticed by anyone who isn’t a trained operative. Carol had never noticed. Now, Dave watches you, glaring at the screen of his laptop as your boyfriend gropes your ass and slides his hand up to cup your tit as he tries to steer you back towards the sofa. “Asshole.” He hisses, jealous that you let this fucker touch you. His cock twitches, making him reach down to palm himself through his pants as he imagines himself with you on that couch. Showing you what getting fucked should be like. 

You let Johnny lay you down on the sofa and he’s quick to remove your shirt, tossing it down and you reach behind you to unclasp your bra, exposing your tits unknowingly to Dave’s gaze until Johnny takes your nipple into his mouth, making you moan. “Fuck. That’s good.” You sigh, running your fingers through his hair as he sucks but it’s not hard enough, not rough enough.

“Fuck.” Dave hisses, reaching up to slide the end from the belt buckle. His cock throbbing in his pants and he’s already decided that he’s going to jerk off, watching you get fucked by this pathetic excuse for a boy. There’s nothing really wrong with Johnny, Dave hates him solely because he wants you. Wants to use you and show you what you really want when you look at him with those searching eyes. Pulling his hard cock out, Dave spits in his hand and starts to smear it over the sensitive head. 

When Johnny slides inside of you, he’s asking if you’re comfortable and you want to roll your eyes. “Fuck.” He hisses in pleasure at how wet and tight you are and you want him to squeeze your throat. You want him to fuck you like it’s your last day on earth. You want him to ruin you but he won’t. You wrap your legs around him, trying to push him deeper. “Fuck baby. You’re so wet.” Johnny groans and you want to be spiteful and tell him you were thinking about Dave being in this cabin, imagining him fucking you, wrecking you.

Dave strokes his cock, hard and fast as he imagines how tight you would be. The squeals he would pull from you would be much better than those damn fake moans you are putting on for him. “You would cry for me.” He grunts, watching you wrap your legs around him. He wonders if Johnny actually buys your moans, if he believes that you are actually enjoying yourself. His cock is slick in his hand, gripping it harshly as he jerks off. 

“Oh my God, I’m cumming!” You cry, throwing your head back as you grip him inside of you, faking yet another orgasm. You moan, glancing up at the ceiling, letting out another fake moan as you wait for Johnny to cum inside of you. He’s grunting, his face buried in your neck, and you whimper, “cum for me baby.” You try to egg him on, squeezing his cock in your walls and you moan his name. 

“Gonna cum. Gonna cum.” He groans, thrusting into you a half dozen more times before he cums.

Dave grunts, holding his breath as he starts to cum. Ropes of his sticky seed coating the towel he had covering the steering wheel of his car as he cums. Stroking himself through the high and watching you as you lay under Johnny limply, helping him ride out his orgasm while very obviously not experiencing your own. He wouldn’t let that happen. Milking the last drops of his release before he sits back in the seat and pants, making up his mind on what he will do next. 

You are cooking when you hear the noise. Confused by the clicking sound and you turn the stove off and on again, wondering if that’s the noise. “Johnny?” You call out, wondering where he is. He isn’t usually this quiet. He’s usually annoying you by now, wanting to incessantly talk about his video games or the latest thing he read on Reddit. You turn off the stove, the pasta sauce is cooked anyway, and you will probably find Johnny lounging on the sofa. “Johnny, baby. I-” You scream, finding Johnny tied to a chair and a gag in his mouth.

A hand comes around your mouth, covering it and hot breath washes over your ear. “Ah ah ah, no screaming baby, not yet.” Dave hums in your ear, grinning at the furious expression on your boyfriend’s face. “Your boyfriend didn’t even lock the fucking door. Anyone could have wandered into the cabin.”

Your eyes widen at hearing Dave’s voice in your ear. Your heart pounds in both fear and arousal. His body is pressed against yours and you shiver against him. Your hands are gripping his wrist but it’s no use, he’s stronger than you. “Be calm and nothing bad happens.” He coos and lowers his hand from your mouth. 

“Please. Let - let us go. We will leave. I- I am sorry Mr. York.” You promise, aware to an extent of what he is capable of.

“What are you sorry for?” Dave asks you, “fucking on my couch? Or faking your orgasm.” He shakes his head. “It was pathetic, watching you moan like a whore when we both know you were counting down the seconds until he came and rolled off you.” He tuts and watches Johnny huff and tug against the ropes tying him to the chair in amusement. “So I decided I’m going to show him how you should be fucked.”

Your eyes widen even more and you step away from Dave. “Wha-what? I- Dave. I- don’t understand.” You shake your head and step towards Johnny. “I- I swear to you baby I had - I don’t know what he’s talking about.” You try to assure your boyfriend who is tied up and Dave chuckles, reaching for your wrists to grip them in his. 

“Don’t lie, baby. That’s not nice. You gotta tell him the truth. He doesn’t make you scream. He doesn’t make you writhe. I’ve seen it. I know it. You don’t soak his cock with your cum.” Dave declares and your cunt clenches at the deep words, the truth you’ve been too scared to say. Johnny laughs around the gag again and you wonder how the hell he’s so oblivious. 

“He’s not wrong.” You confess in a whisper.

Dave smirks and looks over at Johnny smugly. “Strip off your clothes.” Dave orders, squeezing your wrists before letting go. “First, I’m going to punish you for letting this boy touch you. You could have just asked and I would have bent you over my desk every night after Carol and the girls were asleep. Or maybe the washing machine in the basement. That way you don’t wake them up with your squealing.” He chuckles as he steps back and reaches for the hem of his shirt. “You cleaned his cum out of your cunt, didn’t you?”

You nod, knowing this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. You can’t fuck Dave in front of your boyfriend. “I- I showered.” You confess and swallow harshly at the sight of Dave shirtless, several scars litter his skin from his past and it attracts you to him even more. 

“I told you to strip.” Dave orders and you shake your head, “I can’t do it.” You choke, knowing this is wrong. Dave shakes his head, reaching into the back of his pants to pull out a gun. 

“If you don’t strip, I’m gonna spread your boyfriend’s brains over the carpet and no one will ever find him.” Your eyes widen, looking at Johnny’s frantic, scared look, and you know Dave doesn’t fuck around. You reach for your shirt, starting to strip off with shaking hands.

Dave watches as your plain bra is revealed, smirking when you reach behind you and shakily unclasp it. “Those are nice tits.” He hums. “Your boyfriend should have sucked on them more. Bitten them and pulled on them.” His cock twitches in his pants and grunts, “I will. Maybe I’ll get some clamps out for them. Make them really sore.”

You whimper at his words, avoiding the glare from your boyfriend who is shaking his head. He never sucks on your tits, always gets right to fucking you. Sometimes he will go down on you but it’s too sweet. It doesn’t make you gasp and writhe. You toss your bra down and hook your fingers in your leggings, pushing them down and kicking them aside so you are left in your panties. 

“Ah ah ah. All of it.” Dave tuts as he pulls his belt through the loops. You look at Johnny as you push your panties down, the gun is still in Dave’s hand so you kick the underwear aside to stand bare before Dave.

“You don’t deserve her.” Dave turns his comment towards Johnny. Shaking his head in disappointment. “She shouldn’t be able to walk, let alone make dinner after you fuck her.” He slaps the belt against his palm and smirks. “Shouldn’t be able to move.” He flicks open the button of his pants and motions to the couch. “Bend over. I’m going to spank you for fucking on my couch.”

You shake your head, glancing over at Johnny and Dave tuts, pointing the gun at the younger man. “Do you want me to blow his brains out?” You shake your head frantically and move over to the sofa, kneeling on it as you shiver in anticipation for what Dave is going to do to you, knowing it’s so wrong to already be turned on.

You shake your head, “please Dave.” You beg and he smacks your ass again. 

“Call me sir.” He demands and you nod, “sir.” He hums in delight and rubs your ass, making you arch your back. 

“Fuck. I need more.” You tell him, finally letting your desires escape, the ones you’ve concealed for so long.

He pauses for a second, grinning in triumph. “I knew you were perfect.” He groans, pulling his hand back so he can whip your ass with the belt, “you need me. Not some pussy.” He hisses, striking your ass every other work in quick succession.

You cry out. arching your back at the pain, but fuck if your cunt doesn't clench at the sensation. "Oh shit." You pant, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your ass. You inhale deeply. ignoring the pained look on Johnny's face as he helplessly watches.

“You like it, don’t you?” Dave asks as he draws back for another slap of the belt against your ass. “Don’t lie.”

“I love it.” You confess, unable to lie to him. He’s tearing you apart and you are unraveling for him, telling him your deepest darkest secrets. You cry out when he hits you again with the belt, your skin is on fire and you pant, trying to catch your breath.

Dave groans, smirking as he flicks the belt against your ass again. “Knew you would love it.” He hisses, his cock twitching in his pants. “You’re fucking dirty, my little whore.”

You collapse forward onto your elbows, ass aching. And you struggle to breathe, knowing it’s true. You’ve always been his. “Yes, I- I- fuck. I’m your dirty little whore.” You whimper, closing your eyes to ignore the hurt look on Johnny’s face, concealed by the gag.

Dave chuckles and drops his hand, reaching out and caressing the welts that are on your ass. “Get on your knees.” He orders you rightly, “I want you to suck my cock. Show you me how much you regret him touching you.”

It’s getting impossible to deny him, the guilt pushed aside by arousal as you shift onto your knees and hiss at the sting when your thighs press against your ass. You look up at Dave as he fumbles to pull his cock out, gun still in one hand, and when he manages to get his hard length out, your eyes widen. Fuck, he’s huge. Your mouth falls open in shock and he grips his length, playfully swiping the head along your lips until you take him into your mouth.

Dave groans as you take him deep, rolling his hips forward. “Fuck.” He hisses, watching as your lips stretch around his cock. He loves it, your eyes starting to water slightly as he pushes himself deeper.

You choke but he doesn’t pull back, continuing to push his cock down your throat, and he grabs the back of your head to stop you pulling off of him. “Take it all.” He demands and you gag but inhale deeply through your nose, concentrating on taking all of him.

You swallow and struggle but you manage to press your nose against the curls above his cock. Making him groan happily as he holds your head there for a long moment before he pulls back. Wanting to fuck your throat, use you for his pleasure, although he’s not filling your mouth with his seed. No. He’s saving that for your pussy. Wanting to replace your loser boyfriend’s seed with his and watch it drip from your folds.

You choke on your breath when Dave pulls his cock back, barely able to catch it as he pushes deep down your throat again. “Fuck. Oh fuck.” He hisses and you are dripping onto the floor as you watch him with watery eyes, loving the way he clenches his jaw. The gun is still in his hand. He looks deadly and that turns you on more than anything Johnny has ever done.

He can tell this excites you. The way that you lean into his thrusts into your mouth and the way that your thighs spread tell him how much you love this. In a few minutes he will be able to see your cunt drooling into the floor, your arousal leaking out of you and dripping down like the little slut that he knows you are.

You whimper around him, saliva dripping down your chin, and when he hisses your name, you slide your hands up to caress his thighs. He allows it, watching you with those dark eyes you’ve dreamed of far too often and you whine when he pulls his cock from your mouth after several moments.

“Get up and bend over the couch.” Dave growls, slapping his cock on the side of your cheek. “Want to cum inside you. after you’ve screamed my name so much that your throat is raw.”

You scramble onto the sofa, desperate to feel him inside of you, to get fucked the way you desperately want to get fucked. You look over at Johnny who has tears in his eyes and you mouth “I’m sorry.” It’s useless but you still want him to know how sorry you are. You’re an eager whore for Dave but he didn’t deserve to get caught in the mess.

Pushing his pants down, he kicks them off and kneels behind you. The barrel of the gun slides up your drenched slit and he chuckles when you stiffen. “I could fuck you with this gun. Click the safety off and shove the barrel in your cunt,” he coos, loving how you whimper. “But I’d rather feel you around me first.” He pulls the barrel back and presses it against your puckered hole. “Maybe next time.” He guides himself to your cunt with his other hand and only pulls the gun completely away when he snaps his hips forward and fills you up.

Your gasp echoes in the cabin, shocked at the abrupt way he fills you, stretching you out, and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. Equal parts painful and pleasurable. It’s all you’ve ever wanted. “Oh fuck.” You choke, unable to breath as he doesn’t give you a chance to adjust around him before he’s pulling out to set a harsh pace, pounding into you like it’s the last thing he will ever do.

Dave hisses at how tight you get, pressing his hand on your lower back when you arch it up. “Fuck, that’s it. God, you love this don’t you?” He chuckles and glances over at where Johnny is sobbing in the chair. “This is what you should have done. You should feel how fucking tight she gets every time I rock into her.” He smirks. “But you won’t, because you can’t fuck her like I can.” He slaps your ass and thrusts harder into you, the slapping of his hips against your ass filling the cabin.

You cry out, his words shouldn’t turn you on but they do. It’s true. Johnny has never fucked you like this. It’s animalistic and you’re fucking breathless, panting as he slams his hips against yours over and over again, gun still in hand as he runs the barrel along your back.

“That’s it, taking it like the little slut you are.” Dave growls, enjoying the way you clench down around him. “My slut. Your cunt needed a real cock inside it. A man who isn’t afraid to hurt you, wants to hurt you.” He groans when you squeal and concentrates on that angle as he plows into you.

“Fuck! Fuck!” You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes deep inside of you, making you fall forward onto your elbows as you can’t remain upright on your hands anymore. “Yes. You. Needed you.” You know it’s wrong but you’re lost in the haze of lust and you can’t see Johnny’s heartbroken look as you wantonly moan for Dave.

Dave growls, loving how you just admitted that in front of your pathetic boyfriend. “You look so good.” He pants out, “split open on my cock. Be a good girl and cum and then I’m really going to make you squeal.”

You can’t hold back, even if you tried, you cry out when he smacks your ass again and you cum, clamping down on his cock and soaking him. You bite your lip, trying to smother your moan because you know Johnny is still watching you.

Dave growls, pissed that you would try to muffle your moans, and he reaches back to grab your shoulder, pulling you back against his chest. “Don’t you fucking bite your lip.” He huffs. “Or I’ll shoot your boyfriend and the last thing he will ever see is you cumming on my cock,”

You hate that his words make you clamp down even more on his cock. He’s so commanding, it makes you soak him, and he grabs your jaw, forcing you to release your lip. “I’m sorry.” You gasp, to both Dave and Johnny. The fact that you are getting fucked by another man in front of your sweet boyfriend has your heart breaking but your body is aching for Dave.

Dave huffs. Sliding his gun hand down as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, the barrel nudging your clit and he smirks when you gasp and your body reacts. “No you aren’t. You love this. You wanted my cock for so long.” He tells you. “You don’t think I didn’t know you searched my history? Saw what I was into? What I imagined doing to you?”

You would be mortified that he knew you’d seen the videos but he’s making your fantasies come true right now and you can’t stop yourself from enjoying the way he fucks up into you, the cold barrel of the gun nudging your clit enough to make you moan again. “I- fuck - it was so filthy. The - the choking. The spanking. I- I want that so much.” You admit, knowing Johnny wasn’t capable of giving that to you.

“You’re gonna get it.” He promises, feeling your cunt start to relax and he pulls out of you to turn you on your back. Throwing your legs back up into his shoulders, Dave wastes no time slamming back into you to start pounding you into the couch like he imagined when he was watching Johnny fucking you, folding you over to make sure he can plunge deep.

“Shit. Oh shit.” You squeal, he’s so deep inside of you. You feel like he’s in your guts. “Fuck baby. Oh fuck.” You sob, sounding authentic, not faking it like you did with Johnny. “Oh my God.” You whine, cupping your tits as he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth.

“That’s it, fuck, you’re so slutty.” Dave hisses, loving the way your cunt just floods his cock with your juices, every time he thrusts into you more coats him. It’s dripping down his thighs and his balls. Reaching up, he slaps your cheek lightly, not enough to hurt you. “My whore.” He growls, grabbing your throat and squeezing like he had imagined so many times. He could never do this to Carol, she didn’t like anything but basic lovemaking, but you are different. You will give him what he needs.

You grip his forearm as he fucks into you, making you moan and writhe. He grips your neck a little tighter and it cuts off some of your air, making you choke but your cunt squeezes his cock. You love this. It’s filthy and everything you’ve ever wanted.

“You love this.” He coos mocking, grinning over at where your boyfriend has his eyes closed. “Open your fucking eyes.” He orders, pointing the gun back at Johnny and his pace falters slightly. “Watch her get fucked. Every second of my cock inside you, you watch. Knowing you can’t give her this.”

You gasp, hating that you’re so turned on by his authority, and you whimper when he hits something incredible inside of you. Johnny opens his eyes, the look in them is heartbroken and it kills you to know that it’s over between you. He’d never want you now and you don’t know if you would want him after experiencing Dave. “Shit. Shit. I’m gonna cum.” You squeal, feeling how close you are.

Gritting his teeth, your squeal just makes him rock into you harder. Wanting to see how hard you cum, Dave holds the gun up to your head and pulls the trigger.

Fuck, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. But you cum when he pulls the trigger. The way your life flashes before your eyes as you wonder if he’s just killed you only to hear the click of the trigger and nothing else. It’s the sexiest thing that’s ever happened to you and you gush, soaking him with your cum as you sob his name.

Dave groans, feeling your cum soak him. Making him hiss, flexing his finger and dropping the gun as he lunges forward. Folding you over as he presses his lips to yours and buries his cock deep as he can get it, coating your walls in hot ropes of his seed.

You pant against his mouth, hands wrapping around his shoulders, and you pull him even closer, “Dave. Dave. Dave.” You whine into his mouth, his cock twitching inside of you and he pushes his cum out of you with each rock of his hips.

He practically grins against your lips in satisfaction. Feeling you pull him closer is his personal triumph, getting you to admit that you need what he gives you. Riding out his orgasm before he pulls back to see your body just sag into the couch as he admires his cum starting to well up in your abused pussy.

You open your eyes, looking up at Dave as he shifts off of you, leaning back to admire his cum after pulling out of your cunt. “That’s how you’re supposed to fuck her. That’s how she should look. Wrecked. Ruined.” Dave tells Johnny who is crying, blinking to stop himself from closing his eyes, fearful of Dave despite the gun being set aside.

Dave stands, starting to pull his clothes back on and picks up his gun. “You drove up here, so I’m going to take Johnny down to the bus station.” He tells you. “Safe to say he won’t be staying.”

You are too dazed to really think about it. You nod, knowing you will have to call Johnny and break up formally but you doubt he will ever talk to you again. "I'm sorry Johnny." You whisper, watching Dave untie him from the chair but not ungag your boyfriend who looks equal parts disgusted and scared. You know Dave will send him on his way and then you have no clue what will happen next. You can only hope that he fucks you again.

“Stay here.” Dave shoves Johnny towards the door but doesn’t give him a chance to stop and look at you. Opening the door and pushing him outside before locking it behind him. “Don’t worry.” Dave chuckles quietly as the other man starts to struggle against the rope around his hands. “I won’t leave her alone too long.”

You sigh, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The guilt is creeping up on you but the ache in your body pushes it aside. You’ve never been so satisfied and you’re eager for Dave to return, wondering what the next steps are. Part of you worries if he will kill you. You know he’s capable of it. Part of you wonders if he will simply leave you out here to make your way home.

Dave drives Johnny five miles away from the cabin, turning down an old dirt road that leads to an abandoned property. “You don’t have to worry.” Dave chuckles as he parks the car. “Everything will be fine.” He gets out and rounds the car, pulling an increasingly frantic Johnny out. “Shut up.” He hisses, pushing him up against the car and searching for his phone. He smirks when he pulls it out of his left pocket. “You are going to break up with her. Tell her that you never want to see her again.” He chuckles and puts the now loaded gun up to his temple and urges him away from the car. “Let me show you where I’m going to dump your body.” He taunts. “There’s a very nice, dry well. Perfect for you to rot in.”

Johnny cries, sobbing as Dave pushes him towards the well and he knows he has one chance to fight. He spins around, trying to knock the gun from Dave’s hand and he succeeds, deciding to run. He sprints, his hands still bound, and he can barely breathe with the gag in his mouth. “Fucker.” Dave hisses, scrambling to pick up the gun to run after the younger man. When he catches up, he aims and shoots him in the head, watching the body fall to the ground. “Had to make it messy, huh?” Dave huffs as he drags his body to the well. No one would find Johnny.

After he’s unlocked Johnny’s phone with the Face ID, he shoves the body into the well and smirks as he flips through your texts. Frowning slightly when he sees the exchange where he had been trying to convince you to leave your job with the girls, wanting you to move in with him. “Asshole.” He hisses, angrily typing out the breakup message to you, signaling the end of your relationship permanently. After he sends the message, he blocks your number and shuts the phone down, throwing it into the well, along with his body and hums to himself as he walks back to his car. Now he just needs to deal with you.

You stumble from the bathroom, having peed and cleaned up, when you hear your phone ding. Picking it up, you frown when you see the message from Johnny and open it. 

I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Knowing you’ve been his whore and let him fuck you shows what kind of person you are. You are disgusting and I never want to see you again. I hope he satisfies your slutty needs and he’s gonna break your heart. Good luck. 

The message makes you tear up, not able to refute his claims that Dave will break your heart. You know that. He’s probably on his way back now to do just that. You pull on your shirt and panties and sit on the sofa, typing a message back. 

I’m so sorry, Johnny. I do love you. He just gave me what I needed. Can we please talk? I don’t want to end things like this. You hit send and the message never says delivered. He’s blocked you. That makes you cry, mourning the safe, yet boring relationship you had with Johnny.

Pulling back up to the cabin, Dave is happy to see your car still there. Scoffing to himself because Johnny had been happy to let you whisk him away rather than him doing it to you. Knowing it’s slightly sexist, but he doesn’t give a shit. You need a man to take care of you, and Dave is going to be that man. “I’m back.” He announces, walking back into the main room and frowning when he sees you crying. “What’s wrong?”

You sniff, wiping your eyes when you see Dave. “Johnny broke up with me.” You gesture to your phone and Dave wants to roll his eyes. 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He asks and you bite your lip. 

“I- I don’t know. I feel guilty. I- I fucked you in front of my boyfriend and now he’s - oh God. Carol. And the girls. I- shit.” You start to panic, realizing how wrong this all is.

“Don’t.” Dave shakes his head, sitting down and reaching out for you. He doesn’t care about what you are feeling but he has to pretend like he does. “Fuck that loser, or- don’t fuck him. He couldn’t make you cum. And Carol isn’t going to find out about this.”

“How do you know? I - I can’t look her in the eyes when we go back home. She- she’s gonna know. I can feel it. Oh God. This was so wrong. You shouldn’t have done this. You were supposed to be at home and now I- fuck.” You cling to him, soaking his shirt with your tears.

“Hush.” Dave insists, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. Some people just can’t have a poker face and you are one of them. Not that it matters. His hand slides down into your panties and he pinches your clit. “Don’t think about it.” He growls. “Think about what I’m going to do to you right now. In my bed.”

You choke on your sob, his fingers rubbing your clit has you whimpering. The alternations between pinching and rubbing make you moan and your tears run down your cheeks but you stop sobbing. “Fuck. Dave.” You whine, turning your head to kiss his neck.

“That’s it, concentrate on how much you want it.” He groans, his flaccid cock twitching. He always has wanted to fuck someone after he’s killed and he’s going to get to, the gunpowder still fresh on his skin. “You need it. You need what I’m going to do to you.” He bites down roughly on your shoulder, sure that his teeth will leave impressions through your shirt.

"I do. I really do." You gasp, grinding down onto his fingers. He smells like smoke, something you can't put your finger on, but you love it. It smells like Dave. "More. Need more." You whine and cry out when he slaps your cunt with his palm. 

"Patience." He demands and you whimper, "please Dave."

Dave smirks, enjoying how eager you are for him. He pushes a finger deep inside your cunt and curls it up. “When I am here, you are to wear nothing.” He orders harshly, pumping his finger before adding another. “You will be ready to take my cock in whatever hole I want to fuck.”

“Yes. Yes. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready. I’m yours. Have been yours. Just - I need more.” You beg, lost in the pleasure to really take note of his words. You reach out to squeeze his cock through his pants, wanting more of him.

Dave growls, rocking his hips up, “take your fucking shirt off before I cut it off.” He demands, wanting to bite and suck on your tits. Eager to leave his teeth marks on your skin. To make you feel him when he leaves tonight. He pushes his fingers deep and rough. “Now.”

You scramble to follow his order, pulling the shirt over your head to expose your tits to his hungry gaze. He surges down to bite down on your nipple, making you cry out in both pleasure and pain. His fingers curl deep inside of you and you’re so close. He unravels you impossibly fast until finally, you clamp down on his digits, his teeth buried in your breast.

Dave groans in delight, feeling his teeth break the skin and the coppery tang of your blood floods his taste buds. Not enough to really do damage but from the way you clench around him, you love it.

You pant as he slows his fingers, letting you enjoy your orgasm and your eyes are still closed when he tells you to look at him. “You’re mine now.” 

You nod, “I’m yours. I- I always have been.” You tell him truthfully.

“Good.” Dave pulls his fingers out of your cunt and shoves them into your mouth, nearly gagging you. “Now, your going to go into the bedroom and spread yourself on my bed, I need to get the toy you will have in your cunt while I fuck your ass.”

You shouldn’t shake with anticipation but you’ve never done anal before. None of your boyfriends were interested in the prep work and you wonder if Dave is the same. If he’s gonna just try to stick it in. You stand on shaky legs and make your way to the bed, kneeling on it and spreading your knees to display your cunt and puckered hole.

When he had come into the cabin, he had dropped a duffel bag near the door. All the supplies he needs inside, he unzips it, removing a toy, a bottle of lube and the handcuffs. The collar and chain are left in the bottom, along with the padlocks he had brought to secure the cabin. Taking them into the bedroom, he grunts in satisfaction when he sees you kneeling. “Has anyone every fucked your ass?”

You shake your head. “No. No one has.” You admit, hissing when he smacks your ass over the welts that are still sensitive from his rough treatment earlier. “You can. I want you to. Just - just be gentle.” You plead, knowing he won’t but maybe he will consider it.

He snorts, pulling your hands behind your back and slapping the cuffs on them. “Depends on how good you are for me.” He won’t be too rough, he wants you to anticipate him fucking you rather than trying to shy away. Leaning over and grinning, Dave spits on your puckered hold and reaches out to massage it into your skin.

"Shit." You hiss at the new sensation. No one has done this to you and you already fucking love it. "Fuck Dave." You pant when he pushes his finger a little deeper inside of you.  "I'll be good." You promise, arching your back and your abused cunt clenches around nothing.

“I know you will.” Dave coos, pulling his finger out and coating it with lube so he can push it back inside you. “You know what I’m capable of. What I could do to you.” He chuckles when your tight hole clenches around his digits. “You like that I’m a killer.”

You can’t deny it. It turns you on to know what he’s capable of. “Oh fuck baby. Yes. Yes I do.” You confess, “I love it. I want you to be the one to fuck my ass.” You tell him breathlessly and you gasp when he adds another finger to stretch you out.

The sounds are slick and you aren’t pulling away as he starts to pump and scissor two fingers inside your ass. Making him groan at the sight of your clenching cunt. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are nice and filled up.” He grins, picking up the dildo he had formed from his own cock using one of those kits. “My cock will be the last one you have inside you. Even a toy.”

You hear him squirt lube onto the dildo and you gasp when you feel the silicone press against your cunt. You moan when he starts to push the toy inside of you. “Oh fuck!” You squeal, trying to relax around the girth and you realize that the toy is as thick as Dave.

He chuckles, admiring the way your lips stretch around the toy. “You look good like this, even better when my cock is in your ass.” He taunts.

You pant as he works the toy in and out of you, his fingers scissoring your ass open and you collapse forward, resting your cheek on the sheets, your fingers flexing in the handcuffs. “Please, baby. I need you inside of me.”

He chuckles again and pulls his fingers out of your ass. “You’re ready to be full, huh?” He slaps your ass, leaving the toy inside your cunt as he slathers his cock in lube. He wants it to be slick, for himself and for you taking his cock in your ass for the first time. 

“Yes.” You whimper, making him smirk as he slaps your ass and shuffles closer.

You pant as he presses the head of his cock against your puckered hole and you hold your breath as he starts to push inside of you. It hurts, but you can handle it. His hand caresses your back, “breathe.” He orders and you exhale shakily, inhaling deeply on the next breath. He’s so thick it stings but you want this. You try to relax so you can take as much of him as possible.

Unlike the first time he pushed inside your cunt, Dave takes his time. Works himself an inch at a time. Aware that this is new, plus you still have the toy filling up the other hole on the other side of the thin skin. He can feel the ridges in the silicone and he groans as he rocks into you. “Fuck- fuck you’re going to be so good for me? Taking this cock and a toy aren’t you? You’ll let me do anything I want to you.”

You nod, “yes. Whatever you want. I love - I love it.” You tell him, groaning when he starts to move inside of you. “Yes. Oh yes baby.” You pant when he starts to move faster and he’s gripping the toy, working that in and out too. It’s more than you’ve ever felt and you are already on the edge.

“Fuck, fuck you’re so-“ Dave groans, gritting his teeth and biting off his words when you spasm around him, close to cumming already. “Shiiiit.” He hisses, rocking his hips faster, slapping them against your ass as he works up to a frantic pace.

You squeal when he picks up the pace, pushing into you over and over again. “Yes. Yes! Keep - keep going. Keep going. I - fuck. You’re gonna make me - Dave. Oh Dave!” You clamp down on the toy, squeezing it inside of your walls and you squeeze Dave, shaking as you sob into the sheets at the intensity of your orgasm.

“God, you’re such a perfect little slut.” Dave groans, slowing down and rocking his hips a lot slower than before. He wants you exhausted by the time he is done with you. He needs you to sleep while he closes up the house. “That’s good baby, fuck, you’re so tight.” He praises, caressing your spine. “Want you to cum again. You’re gonna come for me again.”

You recover against the bedsheets, trying to catch your breath while Dave caresses your spine, until he starts to fuck you again. This time, he’s slower. Not as rushed as he rocks his hips, and you try to grind back onto him, arms aching from the handcuffs but you daren’t ask him to remove them.

Looking down, he watches his cock move inside you. Aware that he is recording this very moment on the camera system to keep and watch back whenever he wants. “Gonna fuck you every week.” He groans, twitching inside you. “First you’re going to suck my cock. Kneel down and take my cock down your throat while I finish up work.” He tells you, like he’s explaining how things will go. Because he is. “Then I’m going to fuck your cunt full.”

"Oh God." His words make you burn and you want that, you want him. Every fucking day. "Yes. Yes. My pussy is yours, Dave. I belong to you." You promise, tears stinging in your eyes as your wildest dreams come true. "I need you. I need this."

“You are mine.” He groans, rocking his hips faster and he reaches around you to slap your clit and rub it harshly. “Forever. You’re mine. Mine. You’re going to give me more kids.”

You wonder if he’s just babbling or if he means it. It’s hard to not give into the fantasy. You want him to knock you up, claim you in every way. But you know that if you were lucid, you would be terrified to get knocked up by a married man. “Yes. Yes. Gonna have your babies. As many as you want.”

He snarls, closing his eyes and gripping your hips harshly as he starts fucking into you harshly again. Rubbing your clit in a desperate effort for you to cum again. His control slipping at your acceptance of what he has planned for you. “Yes, fuck, yes, cum for me.”

You can't deny him, clamping down on the toy that is still inside of you, while his cock pushes deep and his fingers play with your clit. "Oh my - fuck!" You scream, almost blacking out from the pleasure. This is what you've wanted, what you've craved since you started working for the Yorks. Now you've got it, your entire body is on fire.

He feels your body give out, collapsing against the bed and flattening out so he just follows you. Still fucking into your ass like a man possessed and his hand trapped between you and the bed, rubbing your clit. He growls out your name, burying his cock deep and filling you with another load of his cum, pulsing deep inside the other hole he had claimed.

You can't open your eyes, you can't move. Knowing he's cum inside of you again, and the way he growled your name, it's more than you can bear. "Fuck. I- I love you. I love you. I love you." You sob, knowing he won't reply but you want him to know.

He doesn’t love you. He can’t. Not when he has the girls and Carol and all the shit that he does. But he does want you. You’re his. He rides out his high and starts to slowly ease out of you once he’s done.

You sigh when he pulls out of you, slowly removing the toy too and you feel so empty. His cum drips out of you, and you want him to take the handcuffs off and cuddle you but he won’t. He will probably uncuff you and then send you on your way. “Thank you.” You murmur, knowing how good this was and you know you’ll need him again soon.

Dave caresses your ass for a moment before he moves towards the bathroom. He needs to clean you up. “I’ll uncuff you in just a second.” He promises, grabbing the toy and bringing it with him.

You watch him come back in with the rag, hissing as he cleans up your abused holes, and you sigh when he unlocks the  cuffs, rubbing your wrists. “Did you enjoy it?” You ask him softly, wanting him to have loved being inside of you.

“Obsessed.” Dave answers with an honest smirk. He knows that you are going to want reassurance and intimacy so he motions for you to get under the covers and pulls them back to get into the bed with you. “I’ll be thinking about it when I’m not inside you.”

Your eyes widen as he slides into bed beside you and you are surprised when he wraps his arms around you. You smile, shifting back to snuggle into him, breathing him in. You don’t know what tomorrow will bring but you have him tonight. He strokes along your stomach and you are lulled into sleep, exhausted from the sex and the events of the day.

He waits until you are softly snoring, slipping out of the bed and picking up your phone to type out another text message, one that would be sent to his phone. Smirking to himself as he hits send, removes your SIM card and erases it. He’s had your password for a long time and now he’s used it. Redressing and stepping out with the bag and padlocks to start shuttering the cabin windows. With you inside.

****

You blink as you wake up, confused by your surroundings until you remember that Dave had fallen asleep beside you. You sigh and turn over in bed, frowning when you feel the cold sheets beside you. He’s gone. You knew he would leave but a small part of you hoped he would stay. You get out of the bed, shrugging on your robe that you’d brought with you, and you frown when you see the cabin is in darkness. You walk over to the window to open the curtains and you gasp when you find it shut up. Starting to panic, you go through each window, finding each one boarded up, and you rush over to the front door. Screaming when you find it locked, you tug on the handle with no use. You’re locked in. “Dave! Dave! Dave!” You shout, praying he’s still here and this is some kind of joke. You rush around the cabin but he’s nowhere to be found. “Oh my God.” You panic, chest heaving as you come to realize he’s locked you in.

Watching the screen, Dave sees you panicking. He picks up his cell phone to dial the cabin. He’s set it up so that only he can dial in, there are no outgoing calls to be made. He watches you jump when the phone peels and you rush over to it. “Dave! What- what is going on? What - why are you doing this?” You cry, making him exhale slowly, keeping his patience for now. 

“You said you’re mine.” He reminds you quietly. “You didn’t want Carol to find out. So this is perfect. You will stay here, I’ll be up to see you every couple of days and bring you supplies.” He rasps into the phone. “I can see you on the cameras and I’ll call you once a day. Tell me if you need me to bring you anything. And when I come, you can have me just like you said you wanted.”

Your hands shake as you look around the cabin, trying to spot the cameras and you think you see one in the corner. “Please don’t do this. I- I wouldn’t tell Carol. It would be our little secret. I don’t - please Dave. I can be a good girl. I won’t tell anyone. Just - just come and let me out. Please. I - fucking let me out of here!” You shout down the phone, losing your cool as you start to have a panic attack at the fact that he’s locked you in the cabin.

“Ah ah ah.” Dave tuts disappointedly. “A good girl wouldn’t yell about her situation.” He tells you. “I’ll be back in three days, baby. Don’t worry. I’ll bring those cookies you love. And you don’t have to worry about Johnny.” He decides to tell you the truth. “I killed him. And you texted me, telling me that you were quitting to move in with him. So Carol won’t wonder where you’ve gone.”

You sob, hearing the truth that Dave killed Johnny. He didn’t deserve to die. He was a good man. You nearly drop the phone, covering your mouth to smother your sob but know Dave can see it on the camera. “Don’t be sad. Now we can be together. When I want. I’m gonna have you forever. You’re mine now.” Dave declares and hangs up the phone. 

You frantically try to call back on the phone but the line is dead. You press the numbers over and over with no response so you finally slump down onto the floor. Dave killed Johnny and now you are his prisoner. Your selfishness has ruined everything, Dave has destroyed everything. You cry for Johnny, for your future, and you know you won’t make it out of here alive. Dave won’t let you go now. You’ll be his. Forever.

#pedro pascal #dddne #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x nanny!reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york equalizer 2 #dave york fanfiction #dave york imagine #dark!dave york #tw murder #tw imprisonment #consensual noncon #tw dubious consent

[aurorawritestoescape]

WATCHING YOU

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary/prompt: reader stalks Dave and he’s super turned on by it.

Tw: 18+, mdni, smut, voyeurism, so much of it, m/f masturbation, infidelity, unsafe piv(wrap it up obv), creampie, f/oral, light pussy slapping, fingering, swearing.

Word count: 4,2k

A/n: Happy holidays, @bonezone44 !🎄❤️ It’s an honor to write for you and I hope you’ll like my present! Love you, friend! Merry Christmas!🫂💖

Drabble || MASTERLIST

It’s another day. You’re in your work car, fast food trash lying on the seat next to you. You’re waiting for him, your current target, David York.

You’ve been surveilling him for some time now. Why? You don’t know. For your boss you’re just a pair of eyes so you follow, watch, take notes and monitor who he meets and who visits him and sometimes you take pictures of him, the hottest man you’ve ever seen.

David York, Dave as you call him... or not exactly. In your head you’ve been calling him Daddy all this time. Daddy was a family man. A loving, driving to and picking up from school, helping with homework, building tree houses, perfect dad. He was attentive to his wife, kissing her goodbye in the morning, making her breakfast in bed from time to time, fucking her missionary style once a week in their bed. See? You’ve been a great pair of eyes! You would gather everything you could and send it to your boss. All the information, every minor thing.

Except.. you might have omitted some details. Like sometimes when he sees his wife to her car in the morning his gaze slides along the street and pauses for a moment at whatever car you’re in that day. He kisses her glancing in your direction.

It might be a coincidence, you think. You just got too close, grew a little infatuated with your target and his warm eyes, kind smile and hot body. Maybe subconsciously you want him to see you. Clearly that would ruin the whole mission so you continue watching him and taking notes.

There is another reason you feel your heart and pussy flutter when you set your eyes on him. Every Tuesday and Thursday when his wife takes their daughters to their dance class he sits down in an armchair in the living room, a laptop in front of him on the coffee table and gets himself off. Watching in your car outside his house you have a great view of the whole process. He discards his belt, unzips his usual slacks and takes out his perfect cock. It’s big and thick, a little curved to the side, veiny but not too much. Perfect!

The first time it happened you reached for your binoculars so fast you spilled your coffee all over the car mat and then nearly choked on your spit at the sight of his length. He began stroking it slowly at first watching whatever was happening on the screen of his laptop while your heart was pounding in your chest and your pussy tingled making you squirm in your seat. With his hand sliding up and down his cock at a growing pace, he closed his eyes, turned his head towards the window, towards you, and bit his lower lip. You couldn’t help but whimper witnessing the sign of pleasure on his handsome face through the lenses. That moment you wished for nothing more than to be between his strong thighs, give him that ecstasy with your own hot mouth.

It happens regularly now. He chokes and milks his cock every Tuesday and Thursday and you watch him and ruin your panties. You don’t dare to do anything else right then and there but as soon as you come home on those days you plop on your bed, shove your hand into your panties and make yourself come sliding your fingers in and out of your tortured pussy. You don’t need your toys, just the image of his hand jerking his cock is enough to make every nerve in your body scream with ecstasy. You know every vein of his member, know the way he loves to start pleasuring himself and know his expression when he comes. It’s in your mind constantly.

You’re in your car waiting for Daddy to return with his daughters after picking them up from school. He’s late. He’s never late. You know his habits, his punctuality so you get nervous. Is he ok? Are the girls?

You’re deep in your thoughts staring at the road waiting for his car to show up and bring your nerves some relief.

TAP TAP

You jump in your seat, as your hand darts to your hip but you stop yourself remembering you’re in a suburban area with lots of civilians around and not armed.

When you turn your head your heart plummets to your stomach and you freeze, eyes wide. Him, Dave, Daddy is standing outside, with a hand on his hip apparently waiting for you to roll down the window. He’s wearing a light blue shirt with no tie and dark blue slacks with his ever present prominent bulge.

You try to compose yourself ready to lie through your teeth, and after taking a deep calming breath, you push the button opening a crack in the window.

He bends over and you see his face, his plush lips, a pronounced nose and warm eyes.

You must be worried, scared, shocked but your contradictory heart is fluttering at the realization that he finally sees you.

“Hello!” he says with a polite smile as his gaze quickly scans the inside of your car. You feel embarrassed scolding yourself for not cleaning up earlier and then another fear sneaks into your mind- have I left anything in the open showing that I’m surveilling him?

“Can we talk?” you hear his deep, velvet-like voice and stare up at him trying to control your breathing and your rushing thoughts.

“I’m sorry I’ve been waiting for my friend. I’ll leave. I don’t think she’s comin….”

He interrupts you, raising his hand in the air.

“Please,..” And then he calls you by your name.

Fuck!

You curse inwardly and begin thinking of your way out. You’re trying to read his expression and immediately drown in his eyes.

Fuck! I need to focus.

He knows. He’s known for some time. You’d be happy to say you’re surprised but in reality you aren’t. Your heart starts beating even faster. Is he dangerous? Of course he is. Why else would they need you to watch him?

“We need to talk,” he tells you, “can we go inside?”

You should say no, make up an excuse or just hit the gas and drive away but he’s here and the way he’s looking at you with his sad puppy eyes pushes you to stay. You can protect yourself if necessary, you think. So you make a decision.

“Yeah.. we can talk”. You open the car door, get out and follow him to his house.

He’s sitting across from you at the dinner table, staring intently at your face, his brows furrowed. He shifts his jaw as if in deep thought. The memory of him fucking his fist flashes in your mind and you quickly avert your eyes. You focus on the table in front of you, crayons and children’s drawings scattered across the surface. You clear your throat and return your gaze to him.

“So.. how long have you known?” you ask, making your voice sound more confident that you really feel.

“How long have you been stalking me?”

“Oh great! I’m that bad,” you chuckle nervously.

“Or I’m just that good,” he retorts with a smile.

“I’m sure you’re,” you breathe out and he raises his brow hearing an almost whimper in your tone. You feel your cheeks burning and you scold yourself mentally for showing your emotions. You want to fill the awkward silence and blurt out, “I'm definitely going to be fired now.”

It’s his turn to surprise you when he leans forward getting closer to you placing his forearm on the table and says looking right into your eyes.

“You don’t have to report this conversation. It can be our secret.”

You laugh bitterly expecting it to be a joke. Yet when you glance back at him you find his expression serious and intense. Why is he looking at you like this, why are you in his house? Your pulse quickens as his gaze slides down from your eyes to your lips and then your cleavage peeking out of your black shirt’s neckline.

“You can tell your boss that you failed or you can keep quiet and continue your mission,” he says, his voice calm and alluring.

“My mission…You mean - secretly surveilling you while you know all about it?” you ask as sarcasm coats your words.

“You’ve been doing it all this time so… you may as well continue,” he smirks. You feel offended by his remark and your instinct makes you to bite back with a question,

“Do you think I like watching you jerk your cock twice a week?”

The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them and his expression changes.

“ I know you do,” a lopsided smile appears on his face as if he’s been waiting for these words all along. Your breath catches when suddenly he scoots closer to you moving his chair and you feel his knees touch yours. You look down at his thighs and his hand flies and brushes a hair strand away from your face. You grab his wrist and hold it as adrenaline is coursing through your veins. The faint smell of his cologne, oaky and deep, his face, his body, so close overwhelm you, and you feel yourself gush.

Your body wants him. You want him.

Still holding his wrist you bring his hand to your face and press your cheek to his warm palm. Your heart is pounding in your ears and you’re about to apologize for your inappropriate behavior and storm off when he cups your cheek and mumbles, “Oh, baby..”

You’re looking at each other for a few moments which feel like an eternity before he shifts his hand a little, swipes your lower lip with his thumb and murmurs, “Nosy kitten.”

You stop breathing completely, afraid to ruin the moment or make a wrong move. He pushes his thumb between your waiting lips and you readily open them for him. You take it in your mouth and begin sucking on it. It’s thick and heavy on your tongue. You moan and shut your eyes imagining something thicker and longer of his in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the pad of his finger and hear his chair creak.

When you open your eyes Dave’s moved even closer to you, so close that your knees are between his thighs and you tingle all over seeing his broad shoulders, strong arms, all of him right in front of you.

“Mmm, my kitten is naughty,” he coos at you leaning to your face until he places his nose into the crook of your neck and takes a deep breath.

“You smell as good as you look, baby,” he whispers and you feel him kissing your delicate skin there while you’re still sucking on his digit.

Then his hand grabs your thigh and even through the jeans you sense how big and warm it is. He slides it up and you stop sucking focused on the hand itching closer to the place where you need him desperately. His lips leave your neck, he pulls his thumb out of your mouth and looks you in the eye again, his gaze soft yet intent.

“Can I…?” He asks and your breath hitches for a moment. You nod.

“Let me hear it, kitten. You have a very pretty voice,” he says, squeezing your thigh.

His touch gives you some courage and you reply with a tint of plea in your voice, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He smiles and asks you softly,

“Could you stand up for me?”

You get up and he takes your hands and tugs you closer to him. You're between his legs now looking down at him. Even sitting down he feels bigger and stronger, more dominant than you. His hand moves to your belly and you bite your lower lip with anticipation. He slowly unbuttons and unzips your jeans and glances up at you. With his eyes not leaving yours he hooks his fingers under your waistband and slowly pulls your jeans and panties down. You whimper feeling cold air on your wet pussy. He bends down, sliding the clothes off your body and helping you to take them off completely while you’re grasping his strong shoulders for stability.

He sits up again and takes you all in, naked from the waist down, still wearing your shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs as his gaze stops at your pussy and you gasp when he leans down and plants an open mouth kiss on your mound.

Dave caresses it with his lips and bends down a little more running his tongue along your wet slit. He pushes it in between your folds and swirls it around your clit. Your hand darts to his head to grip a fist of his hair and you part your feet to make room for his tongue between your legs.

He parts from your pussy, a string of his spit and your slick still connecting you two, and you whine with desperation.

“Fuck, baby, your taste amazing,” his hand darts to your folds, massaging them and then giving your clit a rub. With his middle finger he takes a scoop of your juices gliding it from your entrance to your clit. He brings it to his mouth and licks it clean, not tearing his eyes off your parted lips and hazy gaze.

“Wanna show you something,” he says getting up and you furrow your brows with confusion and a pinch of fear. He might be dangerous. Having noticed your hesitancy Dave takes your hand in his and squeezes it a little. If he wanted to harm you he’d have done it already, you think.

When your mind clears a bit it dawns on you and your ask with excitement, “is it those movies you watch twice a week?” He nods with a smile, gets up, takes your hand and leads you to the living room.

“I thought they were different every time,” you mumble as you see the familiar armchair and the coffee table with the laptop.

“I have a few favorites, kitten,” he tells you with a smirk taking his usual seat. He spreads his thighs and you glance at the tent in his slacks. Then you turn your head right and look out of the window. That’s where you’d be, watching and squirming in your car seat. You shift on your feet feeling a new surge of arousal between your legs. At this point you must be dripping on his carpet. Dave pats his thigh with his hand and half asks half commands,

“Take a seat.”

You hesitate for a second, glancing out of the window at his car drive, your mind suddenly flooded with images of his wife driving up the road. He takes you out of your thoughts,

“They won’t be here for some time. Don’t worry. Take your shirt off,” he adds and you do as you’re told undoing a few top buttons and then impatiently taking it off over your head.

His dark eyes slide from your face and down to your breasts, your belly and then to your pussy glistening with your slick and his spit. He growls at the sight and adjusts himself palming his growing bulge,

“Hop on, kitten. I know you’ve been itching to see what’s in here,” he taunts you pointing at the laptop.

You can’t wait any longer as well, so you turn your back to him and sit down on his clothed lap. His cock is stiff and big under the back of your thigh and you feel it twitch. Then he flexes his thigh muscles and your pussy cries at the pressure. You hold back a moan and try to focus on the black screen in front of you.

“Lean back,” his hands on your waist pull you to his chest and you rest your back on him as his hands are holding you close. You’re completely exposed and vulnerable, pussy and breasts completely on display for him and you love the feeling of being so naked while he’s fully clothed.

His breath is warm on your neck and then his fingers push on your cheek turning your face to him. His parted lips, hungry eyes are right in front of you, your chest is heaving and the heart is pounding.

He pulls you in for a kiss, gentle and soft at first but gradually desire overtakes your both and you seem to want to devour each other, your tongues tangling as you’re licking into each other’s mouths with impatience.

You melt into his body so strong and broad around you getting drunk on the kiss when his free hand cups your pussy and he begins massaging your folds and clit with his thick fingers, your moans muffled by his mouth.

He drinks your sweet sounds and when he parts from your lips and you both look down at the place where he’s making you a complete mess with his hand.

“Oh, fuck, kitten… look how wet you’re.”

His clothed thigh is glistening with your slick but none of you care, captivated by the sight of his skilful fingers sliding between your folds and rubbing your bud just perfectly.

Your climax is so close you legs are already shaking and you plead, voice quiet and desperate, “Fuck me, daddy.”

He chuckles but his tone lacks humor, “you’ve seen my cock, kitten.. don’t wanna hurt you. Need to get you ready first.”

You whine having dreamed of him inside you for so long, but he slaps your pussy gently and you gasp almost coming from the soft stroke.

“No whining on daddy’s lap,” you hear and your breath hitches when he calls himself that.

His two fingers move down from your clit to your entrance and he easily pushes them in. He starts pumping them in and out of your crying hole, curving them and massaging your g-spot. He adds a third and it’s a stretch but you take it well spreading your legs wider.

His stiff member is pulsing under your thigh and you feel your pussy contracting when you imagine his cock inside of you right now.

“Gonna come..,” you mumble and immediately start shaking in his arms as your walls squeeze his digits.

“Oh yeah.., good girl!” he praises as his fingers are thrusting into you fast and rough, the heel of his palm hitting your clit. Your orgasm flashes white behind your eyelids and you soak Dave’s slacks squirting all over his thighs and knees.

“Yeah… messy kitten,” he says almost triumphantly, panting in your ear, “Should daddy make you lick it all off?”

You whimper, completely spent and his hand slows down.

When your climax subsides and all your muscles relax you’re resting against his broad chest, trying to catch your breath, your eyes closed.

He gives you a minute but then you feel his hand under your thigh as he unbuckles his belt, takes it off and throws it on the floor. You hear a zipper open, and he plants a kiss on your shoulder asking for your attention,

“Come on, kitten, time to sit on daddy’s cock.”

You’ve just come but his words immediately reignite the burning in your core.

You get up clumsily, your legs weak from the hard orgasm, and look back to see him pull down his slacks and boxers. His cock springs out of its confines and you widen your eyes. It looks quite intimidating up close and you worry if you can take him, even after his fingers stretched you.

Seeing your worried expression, Dave smirks as his hand holds his hard cock at the base,

“Don’t be so scared, baby. You two can finally meet in person.” He spreads precum over the head with his thumb. You stare at his girthy shaft and angry red tip, shamelessly licking your lips and he notices, “I’d love that. But daddy really wants to stick it in your pussy now .” Dave takes your hips in his big hands and pulls you down closer to his lap.

Your ass is hovering over him as you’re holding onto the sides of the armchair until his tip nudges your wet hole. You begin sinking down and it aches pleasantly. He’s groaning behind you while you’re slowly taking every inch of him. His hands on your waist are helping you hold your weight, not rushing, giving your pussy time to adjust and accommodate his girthy cock.

Finally your folds and ass are flush against him and you take a deep breath sitting fully on his member.

“Are you ok, kitten?” he asks, his chest heaving deeply against your back.

Your ‘yes’ sounds more like a mewl and you look in front of you at the laptop reflecting your naked breasts and his face, eyes focused on your ass.

He glances up and your eyes meet in the reflection of the screen. He twitches inside of your core and you both moan.

“You wanted to show me something,” you mumble beginning to move a little on his cock and he leans forward. You do too, your bodies flush against each other. You feel him stiff and powerful inside of you and whimper at every movement.

Dave finds a file in one of the folders and clicks the icon. He sits up, pulling you with him and making you lean on his broad chest. You both watch the black screen for a few moments until a video starts and you see a busy street. Dave begins moving his hips and you can’t pay the video much attention focused on his cock sliding in and out as he’s holding you in his arms, thrusting his length up into you.

“Watch it, baby. Made it myself. Bet you’ll love it,” he murmurs as your pussy is dripping around his cock on his balls.

Your fingers grasp the sides of the armchair when he speeds up his movements and starts fucking you hard and deep.

You look down to see him splitting you in half on his cock before he grabs a fist of your hair and tugs on it making you look forward.

“I said watch, kitten.”

You whimper when he gets rough and you stare at the screen feeling the second climax build.

It’s still a busy street and you’re trying to comprehend what exactly you’re watching when you recognise the place and then a person walking through the crowd with their back to the camera.

It’s you.

You, walking home from the local market a few weeks ago.

You sit up watching the screen closer but with his hands under your arms he lifts your hips and uses you like a fuck toy pleasuring himself with your pussy.

The video changes and it’s night time. You know this place. It’s a dark alley behind your favorite bar. You see yourself coming through the back door, a man following you. He pins you against the wall and you’re making out. You remember you two fucked that night, just a one night stand and all the time you’d been thinking about Dave.

“What the fuck?” you ask your shocked eyes glued to the screen.

“What is it, kitten? You've been stalking me, I’ve been stalking you. Think it’s fair,” he grumbles panting hard still manhandling you on his cock.

You’re speechless. The sounds of his hips slapping against your ass fill the room. Your climax is close and you mumble,

“You’ve been getting off on watching me. You’re sick.”

He chuckles as his hand slaps your pussy again and you moan,

“That’s cute. Calling me sick when you’re bouncing on your target’s cock.”

You can’t say he’s wrong and a smile tugs at your lips.

“Fuck off,” you retort, leaning back on him, then turn your head and kiss him. He growls against your lips, close to his own climax. When you part he holds you close and murmurs into your cheek,

“All that time… watching you, kitten…wanted to fuck you so much.” The head of his cock is hitting the spongy spot inside you as you whine and moan. He continues, “Nearly took you in your sleep once… Wanted to slip my cock inside you..my beautiful stalker.”

You come, the bliss opening your mouth in a silent scream, and choke his cock as he quickly follows shooting his cum deep inside your core. He moans your name, his cock pumping all of his seed inside you, to the last drop.

When you open your eyes, slowly coming down from your high, and look at the screen you see yourself sleeping in your bedroom. He’s watching you, lying on your back, with your nipple peeking out of your nighty. The camera shakes as he takes it in the other hand, probably adjusting himself. Then he goes to your mirror. You see his reflection, wearing a black hat and a dark hoodie. He opens his mouth and breathes out on the mirror creating a misty spot on the surface. Then Dave draws something with his gloved finger.

The camera gets close and you see three letters written there.

ICU

Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!💖

After Watching You - drabble

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @bbyanarchist @harriedandharassed @missannwinchester @nervousmumbling

#pedro pascal #dave york #pedro pascal characters #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal characters fanfiction

[alwaysdjarin]

Red

also on AO3

Dave York x f!reader

( banner by me )

RATING: Explicit 18+ ONLY. No Minors Please. My work is 18+.

Summary: You’re hired by Carol York to test if her husband Dave is faithful. The rest is history…

Words: ~3.5k

Warnings: SMUT, dom!Dave, dom/sub vibes, infidelity, oral (m and f receiving), choking…so much choking (I’m sorry), kind of degradation (Daves a cocky bastard, he calls you „slut“ a few times), guided masturbation (f), fingering, squirting, rough sex,unprotected PIV, a hint of angry Dave, a little bit angst.

A/N: I had this idea when I listened to Kate Bush‘s „Babooshka“ and it fits so well for Dave. I’m a slut for this man, I’m sorry. 😅 I hope y‘all gonna like it. 🫶🏼

And as always: Likes, reblogs and comments are very welcome. 💜💜💜

You spot him as soon as you enter the small hotel bar in Atlanta. Even if you can only see him from behind, you don't need to check the photo you received from your client again. Broad shoulders, short brown hair, long and muscular legs, he’s wearing a black suit just like Carol York predicted.

You walk to the bar full of self-confidence and sit down at the counter, leaving two stools between you and the handsome stranger free.

A quick reach into your purse to pull out your little hand mirror and your perfectly manicured finger adjusts the red lipstick on your sinful lips with a skillful hand movement.

Of course Dave noticed you the moment you entered the bar. The knock of your high heels on the hard stone floor catches the attention of every man in the room.

He does a double take as you reach the chair to his left. Your floor length black dress reveals your right leg through a slit up to your thigh. If Dave looks closely enough, he can spot the lace on the edge of your stockings and he licks his lips at the sight. Your lips are red like the bottom of your expensive high heels and your hair looks soft in the dim light of the bar. Dave escapes a low growl deep in his throat. Like a predator that has scented its prey and is just waiting for the right moment to hunt it down. Finally, he takes his eyes off you and takes a long sip of his whiskey. That’s gonna be an interesting night, he can feel it.

You pretend not to notice that he just shamelessly checked you out and grab your mobile phone. „Hello?“ There’s nobody on the other end of the line, but the man next to you doesn’t have to know. „Oh okay.“ You play the disappointed girlfriend. „Yeah…see you tomorrow then.“ You let out a loud sigh and press the record button on your phone, if Dave takes your bait, you need a proof for his suspicious wife, your client.

"Idiot!" A deep voice reaches your ear after you've ordered a drink and you have to bite your tongue to keep yourself from smiling. Gotcha! You think to yourself and look in the direction of the man next to you with an innocent, questioning look. „Sorry, what?“

He looks at you with a smirk. "Whoever dumps a woman like you is an idiot."

It's easy to have a conversation with Dave York. He's charming, interested in you and undeniably handsome. You notice his eyes on your lips when you talk and his gaze lingers longer and longer on your breasts or the bare leg while you’re sipping your drink. It’s almost a shame that he’s just a job for you and you catch yourself imagining how it would feel if his big, masculine hands would roam all over your body. When you run your hand through your hair, presenting your bare throat as if you're ready to be claimed by him, and Dave has to adjust himself with the palm of his hand because of your submissive behavior, you decide that it’s time for the final step of your test. Carol wants to know if he would do more than just flirting and you’re ready to find it out.

It’s not really a surprise that there’s a knock on you door about 10 minutes after you left the bar and scribbled your room number on his napkin. And you’re a little bit ashamed that you’re actually happy about it. You take a last look into the huge mirror, you’re just in your lingerie and stockings and wear a see thought nightgown. Let’s take a deep breath, let him in, tell him that his wife hired you to test if he is a cheater, kick him out and call Carol. That’s all. You’ve done this almost a hundred times.

But there has never been a Dave York before.

You slowly open the door, presenting your sinful appearance before his eyes. He just stands there for a few seconds and you get the feeling he's hesitating. Dave looks at you, his eyes traveling up and down, lingering on your panties, your breasts and finally on your red lips again. Then something inside of him seems to snap, with two long strides he is in your room and slams the door behind him shut. Before you can react, he turns you around and pins you with your back against the door.

He's suddenly everywhere. One hand grabs your waist, the other one is at the side of your neck. You look at him wide-eyed, all your alarm bells are ringing to end the situation, he’s the husband of a client, he’s a cheater, he’s your fucking job, but you can't. His scent is intoxicating, the warmth he exudes gives you energy, the way he looks at you makes you feel like a damn goddess.

He slowly rubs his thumb over your lower lip and smirks. „God I couldn't think of anything else all night but your pretty little mouth around my cock. How he's all smeared with your red lipstick.“

You clench your thighs together, you’re already soaked from his cocky attitude alone. You let your tongue dart out of your mouth to lick at Daves thumb. He locks eyes with you while your wet and warm tongue circles around his digit and you suck it slowly into your mouth. He clenches his jaw and the hand on your waist disappears and fumbles to open his belt and slacks. You bite his thumb experimentally and he withdraws it out of your mouth to hold your chin in a firm grip.

„You gonna be a good girl and suck my dick?“ Dave’s voice is almost hoarse when he speaks and you try to nod with his hand still holding you tight. „Nah-nah sweet thing. I need you to say it. Use your words.

Do. You. Want. To. Suck. My. Dick?“

His gaze burns right through you and you manage to say a weak „Yes!“ Dave smirks and looks you up and down. „You had an attitude like a slut the whole evening and look at you now.“ You close your eyes for a short moment. You know he’s right, but he took you by surprise. There’s this conflict deep inside of you because all of this is completely wrong, but then you open your eyes again. You want him, damn you want him so bad.

„Beg for it!“ His hands grab into his slacks and briefs and then he pulls his cock out. He’s big and hard, the tip swollen and red, in need for a relief. Dave lets you stare at him for a moment, then his grip on your chin hardens again and he raises your head so that you look him in the eyes again. „BEG!“ He grits his teeth and you ask yourself if you should be afraid of him.

„Please…fuck please let me suck your dick. I-I want it…I need it so bad.“ You whimper, squirming in front of him, clit throbbing and needy for some attention.

Finally satisfied with your behavior, Dave puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes you down onto your knees. The door is still behind you and you try to find the most comfortable position possible, but all of that is long forgotten when you notice the big cock right in front of your face. You grab him at the base and lick along his vein just with the tip of your tongue. Dave hisses at your touch and you finally hear him moan in delight when you close your lips around his leaking tip. His taste is intoxicating. You give him an experimentally suck and look up to see Dave’s face.

God he’s a sight. He’s looking right at you, jaw clenched and brows furrowed. It doesn’t bother you that he’s still wearing his full suit. You open your mouth wider and let him slide slowly along your tongue and down your throat. Dave sucks in a deep breath and whispers a „fuck“ and for a short moment you’re thinking that you’re the one in charge, but then he seems to remember what he has started with you and reverts to his previous behavior.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and caresses your hair in a short loving gesture, but then he grabs your hair hard to keep you in place and starts to move his hips. You try unsuccessfully to withstand him. Dave's length takes up so much space in your mouth that tears suddenly well up in your eyes. You do your best to relax and breathe through your nose while trying to steady yourself with your hands on his thighs, but his pace is too reckless.

„Look at you little slut. Drooling all over your tits while your choking on my fat cock.“ Dave grunts and pants. His movements stutter for a moment when you choke again and swallow around him and you think he’s already coming, but then he stops. He stops right when his fucking big dick is deep down your throat and you can do nothing but look up into his deep brown eyes. It's a demonstration of power, no question.

You breathe hastily through your nose while tears fall down your cheeks. „What a fucking sight you are. Made for me to be used.“ You manage to make a strangled noise which only leads to more saliva dripping down your chin. And then he smiles, Dave actually smiles at the sight of you choking on his cock and you’re ashamed that you’re so turned on by his dominant behavior.

The hand in your hair loosens his grip and he starts to caress your face, his dick still balls deep down your throat.

„Are you wet baby?“

You try to nod.

„Do you want me to show you what I’ve planned for this little pussy of yours?“

You nod a little bit harder.

„Are you gonna be a good girl for me and take what I’ll give to you?“

Nod.

Then Dave finally slides his cock out of your mouth and you instantly gasp for air. He helps you to stand up and you lean breathless against the door behind you.

„Take your clothes off!“ Dave commands and you obey his command without hesitation. Once you’re just in your stockings, he‘s satisfied.

„How do you want me?“ It’s the first time you‘ve spoken in the last half an hour and your throat feels raw.

Dave‘s thumb gathers the saliva on your chin and let you lick it off him while he studies your face. „Lay down on the bed, make yourself comfortable while I take my closes off.“

You watch him while you lay on your back. He methodically strips down and drapes his clothes over a chair. He’s gorgeous you think to yourself. His shoulders are broad, his back muscular and the the gentle curve of his stomach makes him so fucking sexy. His still erected dick bobs proudly between his hairy thighs when he walks over to the bed.

„Spread those beautiful legs for me.“

You do what he wants and see how he licks his lips at the sight of your glistening folds.

„Touch yourself. Spread your pussy and let me see.“ His voice is deep, so much deeper than it was at the bar.

You let your hand trace over your mound and use two fingers to spread your pussy lips. You can hear the wet sound they’re making and Dave bites his bottom lip at the view in front of him. He sits down on the bed right between your legs and caresses your lower leg. He watches as you start to stroke gentle circles over your clit and you got the feeling he won’t touch you tonight. But you know that’s all a part of his game, so you go on further and let one finger slide into your wet hole.

Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of some relief and you feel the hand on your leg grip you harder.

„Eyes on me baby. And now add a second finger.“

You obey.

„Good girl. Now edge yourself. Show me what you need.“

You moan as you add a third finger and pump them in and out of your soaked pussy. You curl them to find the perfect spot inside of you and whimper when you almost reach it.

Dave chuckles. „Needy little thing! Need my long fingers to make you come?“

You look at him breathless. „Yes! Fuck yes, please touch me Dave.“

He lets his hand wander over the soft skin of your leg and you shudder while your still fucking yourself. Dave lowers his head and you can feel his hot breath on your wet skin. His hand grabs your wrist then and you stop moving. He lets your fingers slowly glide out of your pussy just to stick them into his mouth. Dave hums at the taste of you and licks every inch clean. „Fucking delicious.“

The feeling of his fingers inside of you and his mouth on your clit is what throws you finally over the edge. He has you pinned down on the mattress with one hand flat on your stomach, your back arches and you’re moaning -no screaming- out of pleasure.

„Damn!“ Dave’s groaning while he curls his fingers against your g spot again and again. „Let it all out baby. I can feel it. Give it to me. COME ON!“ You don’t know what he means and can’t tell if it’s still the same orgasm or another one. But the knot in your lower belly bursts again and you have the most intense feeling of your whole life. You gush all over Daves hand and forearm while you ride your orgasm. He pants little praises between your legs and looks like he also can’t believe what he just coaxed out of you.

„Fucking hell, this was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.“

„I…I don’t know…I’ve never…“ You are speechless and totally overwhelmed by the whole situation.

A harsh slap on your thigh gets you finally back to earth and Dave is already back to „business“.

„Hands and knees! Turn around, I want to watch us in the mirror.“

You do as you’re told, facing the mirror at the other side of the bed. Dave smacks your ass cheeks hard and you yell at the pain.

„Need to fuck this pussy so bad.“ You feel the hot head of his cock on your entrance for just a second before he enters you with one brutally thrust. You have to time to adjust to his length, he just slams into you again and again. The sound of wet skin slapping on wet skin fills the room completely and you whimper because he doesn’t seem to give you a break. His hand slaps your ass again and you swear you’ll see his hand imprinted on your skin for the next weeks. A reminder of what a horrible person you are.

Just like he could read your mind, Dave puts his hand around your neck from behind and pulls you up so that your back is right against his sweaty chest. He doesn't even stammer in his movements and fucks relentless into you while he locks his eyes with yours through the mirror. You’re looking totally destroyed, your hair is a mess, make up all over your face.

Then Dave squeezes your throat "Look at you little slut. Fucking your client's husband. Does that make you horny, huh?“

You widen your eyes in shock.

He knows. How? Why?

Your body reacts in its own way, squeezing his cock deep inside of you, which elicits a loud moan from Dave. He smiles mischievously while brutally pounding into you. The vein in his neck is prominent, his hair sticks to his forehead with sweat. One hand is still on your throat, the other is squeezing your tit.

"Do you do that with all the men you're supposed to seduce? Filthy little slut!"

You notice the sweat running down your back, it's suddenly much too warm in the room. You’re thirsty, so fucking thirsty. The sounds your bodies make are obscene but such a turn on.

You try to shake your head but the grip on your throat is so strong. You can't speak, you can't breathe. For a moment you think Dave is choking you to death. That's it. It was clear that the job would eventually be fatal for you. You've never slept with one of the men, even if so many of them wanted to. But Dave, fuck, he's so different. You hear and feel his breath in your ear, he grunts.

Just as the edge of your vision turns black, he finally takes his hand from your throat. You take a deep breath, your lungs are hurting and before you can think straight again flips Dave you onto your back and is inside your pussy within seconds.

The new angle lets you see stars. The only thing you can do is to take it. Take every inch he has to offer, every thrust he gives you.

You don’t dare to close your eyes, you know that he wants you to see him. There’s a droplet of sweat running down his forehead and dripping on you.

„Fuck Dave…“

He brings both of you to to the edge within a few thrusts and then he starts to praise you again when he lifts one of your legs over his shoulder.

„…so good to me…“

„…so beautiful…“

„…how should I keep being a faithful husband when you come around and try to seduce me?“

„…love this pussy…“

„…taking me so good…“

„…made for me…“

You feel your orgasm rushing right to you with every word he’s saying. It feels so good that he gives you the feeling that you’re not that bad as you think you are.

He commands you to come when he feels your walls flutter around him and follows you right over the edge with your name on his lips. Dave grabs your thigh hard, his other hand on the base of your neck. Hot spurs of his cum coat your insides and you can feel him trembling while he still rocks into you in a slower rhythm. He’s never closed his eyes for just a second, he watches you the whole time.

You look at each other for a long moment, searching for breath before he pulls his softening cock out of you with a hiss.

You roll on your side while Dave goes into the bathroom and when he comes back with a wet towel to clean you up, you’re already almost asleep. Dave drapes the blanket over your naked form and looks at your beautiful face.

He smiles, of course he knew that you would come after him sooner or later, he knows everything Carol is doing with her phone and notebook. What he hasn’t got planned is that he couldn’t resist you. He wanted to give Carol the feeling that he’s faithful, stop all her doubts. He failed.

The bed is cold and empty when you wake up the next morning. You’re not surprised to be honest, but it stings a little bit though.

You watch yourself in the mirror while you wash your face. Guilt overcomes you. What have you done? You fucked a married man. Red lipstick is still smeared all around your mouth and you rub almost furious to get rid of it. He didn’t even kiss you. The thought enters your mind like a parasite. He just used your for his pleasure, all that meant nothing to him. A single tear runs down your face. But then you remember his eyes, how he looked at you, how your name on his lips sounded when he came. He’s a cheater. He has a wife!

You walk to the table to get your mobile phone so that you can call Carol and tell her what an asshole her husband is. There’s a piece of paper lying next to it.

You read the note with your phone on your ear.

Same hotel room.

In two weeks.

- D

„Hello?“

„Carol? Hi it’s me…..I just want to tell you that everything’s fine.“

„Oh thank you so much. You can not imagine how happy I am.“ She sighs and you can feel her smile through the phone.

„Yeah, you can be proud to have such a great husband.“

You turn the piece of paper around. There’s another note.

Wear that red lipstick again.

#pedro pascal #dave york #dave york pit #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york fic #dave york smut #dave york x f!reader #dave york x reader

[wannab-urs]

Eat You Whole

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Summary: An interplay between violence and love OR Dave shows up at your door looking half dead. WC: ~1400

Image disclaimer: The header is not meant to represent reader in any physical way. It’s more about the whole idea of dipping your tongue into a blood red fruit that has been cracked wide open. 

Content/Warnings: Love as violence; smidge of love as consumption; technically minor offscreen character death – not described in the slightest; Dave is severely injured and the injuries are described; aggressive kissing, blood, oral m!receiving (facefucking), hair pulling (reader has hair), pain kink, crying, spit/drool, rough sex, dom!dave kinda, no prep for reader, unprotected PIV (do better), creampie, reader and dave hit each other (but like sexually), marking, treatment of injuries. No use of Y/N. 

A/N: I really am blown away by the response to Ouroboros and was very inspired to continue the story due to your lovely comments! Technically can be a standalone. See endnotes for timeline explanation. Thanks to @beskarandblasters, @atinylittlepain, @idolatrybarbie, @theywhowriteandknowthings, and @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for letting me bounce ideas off you and sorry Kel, you got outvoted <3

Dave York Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

If you must die, I’ll envy even the earth that wraps your body –Albert Camus

I even wanted to bruise him, so that he would not be able to forget me –Françoise Sagan

You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me –Yves Olade

He’s at the door. You know it’s him though it’s been 9 days since the last. Skin mottled more yellow than purple, torn flesh knitted back together, barely anything left of him on you now. 

He’s a lot worse off than you’d done to him. A bandage haphazardly wrapped around his head, covering his left eye and what you can see of his face swollen and bruised beyond recognition. 

You dance fingertips over his cheek bone where vibrant fuschia and buttercup yellow marr normally golden skin. He flinches away from you. Split lip, swollen, still a shine of deep red in the cut, curling into a snarl. 

You pull him inside by his shirt collar, kick the door shut. You’re furious. Sure hands sliding under his shirt, he grits his teeth as you pull it over his head. Now shaking hands trace the edges of a soaked gauze strip taped to wine stained ribs and he whimpers. Winces and trembles in a way you’ve never been privy to. He’s always taken stinging palms, digging claws, sinking teeth with little more than a growl. He’s never shown you his pain this blatantly before. 

And it terrifies you. His job has always existed as an abstract concept, something that maybe explains his bent toward brutality, but not something you talked about. The battered state of the man in front of you rips whatever wool had covered your eyes away and it is devastating. 

You could lose him. Nearly did. And you’d never have known what happened. This man who is both everything and nothing to you could be swept away with the ocean tide and you’d be left adrift. Wondering. 

You press a kiss to his collarbone. Soft. Maybe softer than you have ever touched him before. Certainly with more care. His breath is shuddering as he wraps his arms around you, cradling you to his chest. You’re afraid to lean into him for fear of breaking him – this man you thought invincible not two minutes ago. 

“Touch me, god damnit,” his voice rough as though he’d been screaming. Maybe he had. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, David.” You say it into his chest. Forehead just barely grazing the skin there. 

“Since when?” He grips you tighter, pulls you into him. His breath leaves his mouth in a huff like you gut punched him, but you feel his cock twitch against you. 

Sick fuck. You unbuckle his belt and stuff your hand down his pants. He’s achingly hard, leaking into his boxers. He fists your hair in both hands and drags your mouth to his. You taste iron as you lick into his mouth, bite down on his already split lip. 

You swallow his groans, you want to swallow him whole so that he can never come so close to leaving you again. Your fingertips dig in between his ribs reclaiming the flesh there. He is yours to tear apart, to put back together, and to dismantle all over again. Yours. 

Your lips drag down sucking your claim into his neck, his shoulder, his chest. You sink to the floor, drag his pants down with you so his cock springs out. You have to have him in your mouth. It’s a desperation bordering on delirium. You take him down to the very root.

Hands still fisted in your hair, he drags you off him only to thrust back in. No care for your need to breathe or the bruises he batters into your soft palate and no care for your teeth clipping his cock. Tears stream down your face unchecked meeting drool spilling from the corners of your lips and settling in the hollow of your throat. 

You think you could come like this, with him taking your throat and your hands wrapped around his thighs egging him on. He jerks you off of him with a guttural, almost primal yell, throwing you to the floor. He drops to his knees in front of your sprawled form.

“Take your clothes off.” Dominant even in such a supplicant pose, even when his features are etched with pain, his shoulders hunched as if to ward it off. You tear your shirt off, shorts and utterly soaked panties quickly following. 

He surges forward, sheathes himself inside you, and oh it hurts. He has torn you open and spilled your guts on the floor. Your wetness does little to ease the feeling of being split open like this. You bring your hands to his face, press your thumbs into his purpling cheek bones in retaliation. 

The snarl he lets out is feral, animal, but he crashes his lips into yours. He snaps his hips into you again and again, your moans and his broken, strangled cries mingling on your tongues. You drive a knee into his ribcage and he screams, rears back and slaps you across the face. You come instantly, writhing beneath him on the floor as your cunt seizes around him. His hips stutter to a stop as he comes deep inside you. He falls into you, covering and filling you completely. 

After an eternity or only a moment he slides off of you, not recoiling in his usual manner. His body still touches yours, legs tangled, his arm across your torso. He must have bled through the bandage on his ribs, your skin smeared red below his arm. 

“What happened to you, Dave?” Now he recoils. Rolls completely away from you and sits up, his back to you. You have to know. It’s burning you up inside. The fear. You crawl to him on your hands and knees. Tentatively, for fear of him running away, you reach out. Let your hand rest on his shoulder. When he doesn’t flinch away you run your fingers up his neck, into his hair, onto the bandage. 

You start to unwind it and he sits, statuesque, facing away. The fabric falls to the floor and he turns to look at you. There’s an empty space where his left eye should be. Crusted blood like smeared mascara below the gaping wound of his eye socket. 

“Fuck.” You whisper it before you can stop yourself. It’s grotesque. Brutalist.  

He jerks his head back around to face the wall, but you grip his chin and pull him back to you. You press the barest kiss to his left brow. “Will this happen again?” He shakes his head minutely. Whatever threat caused this has been dealt with. You feel like you can breathe for the first time since he showed up at your door.

Another gentle kiss. You’ve never been gentle with him or he with you. It puts a crack through your chest, the way his one brown eye clouds with something like longing.

You let go of his face and he drops his head into his hands. You stand and go to your bathroom. You do not stop to take stock of your marked skin in the mirror this time. Instead, you collect gauze, medical tape, bandages, rubbing alcohol, a needle and thread. 

This is not the first time you’ve needed it. Not when the darkest parts of you slither out to meet the darkest parts of Dave and you rend flesh from each other’s bodies. And this is not the first time Dave has shown up with the remnants of a job still on him. 

You kneel between his bent knees, peel the ruined bandage from his skin. You brush your lips down his chest and over the gaping chasm between his ribs.  His breath hitches in his throat. He slips a hand into your hair and pulls your mouth to his. Licks blood you for once did not draw yourself off your lips. No teeth clacking, biting, tearing – soft and plush lips pressed firm over yours. 

You clean the blood from his wounds. Rewrap his eye. Stitch the skin of his ribs while he grinds his teeth, a whimper falling out from behind closed lips. Another press of lips over new gauze.

When you’re finished you stand and tug his hair til he stands too. You kiss him softly before crossing the room and crawling into bed. 

He looks up at the ceiling and takes two deep breaths, taps his fingers on his thigh, and then he joins you. 

–------

Timeline notes: I’ve done some timeline fuckery. In Ouroboros, Robert has already loaded up Carol and the kids and taken them off to some safe house a few months before. Dave meets reader after that. This installment takes place after what is his SPOILER [Death Scene] in the movie, but he wins the fight. Barely. Robert meets the same fate that Dave did in the movie. 

Tagging people who seemed to like the first one! 

@pr0ximamidnight @gasolinerainbowpuddles @bonezone44 @catchallfangirl @heareball @cool-iguana @youmeand5bucks @morallyinept @janaispunk @ireallyreallylikeyourwriting @sin-djarin @toxicanonymity @rootytootyvoodooty @blackfemalenerd @axshadows @heavennumber2 @pedrostories

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