sizzlingcloudmentality

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

HELLO. give me Carol corrupting Dave into kinky sex any time of day, please and thank you. well, maybe not corrupting, he very much is on board, as we all know. but OH MY LORD. this was just the right amount of sweetness and playfulness on top of all the spice.

Dave exploring his dominant side with a somewhat more experienced Carol? and knowing that she is his wifey material? girl i'm internally screaming and biting my fist! i love them both so much and this will be, as you have stated, canon. one Dave loves Carol fic at a time ✊🫡

marry, kiss or kill me

pairing: Dave York x Carol York

summary: Dave and Carol's kinky origin story (which is canon, thank you).

word count: ~2.6k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> mdni, young carol and dave, fluff, flirting, dirty talk, talk about kinks and boundaries, unprotected p in v, nipple play, ass and titty slaps, hair pulling, a bit of rough sex, alcohol consumption

a/n: written for @thatcorporategirlie's never have i ever challenge, kiwi babe i'm sorry for being so late and also for stealing @sizzlingcloudmentality's man and prompt lol <3 (and of COURSE thank you daphne for holding my hand through this as always!!!)

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here :)

dividers by @saradika-graphics 🤍

In truth, Dave feels a little too old to play a game like Never have I ever. But here he is, surrounded by people he barely knows. Sitting in a loose circle on the floor, his legs crossed, Carol leaning into his side. 

They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks and honestly, he was a bit surprised when she invited him along to a housewarming party of one of her friends. 

He likes Carol. He really, really likes her. She makes him laugh all the time. She’s much smarter than him. She wants a family, just like he does. Things feel easy with her. Right, somehow. And maybe it’s too early for that, but he could see himself build a life with her. So, he took it as a good sign and accepted the invitation. 

Most of the people around have been part of her friend group in high school, and he sees her turning into a different version of herself. A little less mature, a little more reckless. Giggling with her girlfriends, sipping on cheap wine, not like the ones that the both of them pick out together now. It makes him wish that he had already known her back then. It has him feeling a little younger himself, makes him forget about the pressure that his life is now shaped by. 

He’s been letting Carol pull him along, letting her introduce him to her friends. He’s been pretending that he doesn’t notice the appraising glances that are thrown his way, the variations of more or less subtle expressions on their faces aimed at her. 

Someone had suggested to play drinking games, for old times sake. The mere idea had been met with wild giggles and enthusiasm. So that’s what they’re doing. 

Carol’s hand is resting on his shoulder with a casual possessiveness that he likes. Sometimes her fingers slide upwards to play with strands of his hair. She’s slurring her speech a little when she whispers into his ear, and he thinks it’s adorable. 

He also has to admit that the game is much more fun now than it was in his high school days. Everyone is a bit older, a bit more experienced, so the most harmless confessions don’t lead to scandalized gasps and embarrassed laughter like back then. 

The guy on his right side thinks for a moment, then comes up with, “Never have I ever had a sex related injury.” There’s a second of contemplating, with no one touching their drinks just yet. Dave’s saying a quiet prayer of gratitude that he hasn’t, because he’s heard stories from a buddy of his, and well— 

Then, Carol pipes up from beside him. 

“Do bruises count?”

There’s another moment of stunned silence, and he feels a charged kind of heat traveling up his nape, where her fingernails are now teasingly scratching over his skin. She exchanges knowing looks with a few of her girlfriends, who are beginning to giggle again.

“Like a hickey, you mean?” a young woman across from them shyly asks, obviously unaware of any other indication. Carol smiles at her warmly.

“Yeah babe, like a hickey.” 

Her lips curl around the glass when she takes another sip from her wine.

It’s late in the evening when they stumble into Carol’s small apartment, both just on the right side of tipsy, enough that they could barely keep their hands off each other on the cab ride. Dave keeps kissing her hungrily as he’s walking her backwards to the bedroom, dimly lit with the yellow glow of a lamp on the nightstand.

He’s paying special attention to her neck, knowing that she likes the way his end-of-the-day stubble scratches over the sensitive skin there. The breathy moans that she responds with are music to his ears. Dave waits until they’re surrounded by soft sheets, with her hands buried in his hair, until his mouth gets more demanding. 

His lips are traveling down, his teeth sinking into the skin beside her collarbone, sucking it into his mouth, his tongue pressing hard against her flesh. She mewls underneath him, nails digging into his scalp, trying to pull him even closer. When he finally lets go, he can already see the purple bruise beginning to blossom under her skin. He looks up to find her looking at him, her eyes glinting knowingly in the low light. 

“What did you really mean? About bruises?” he asks, pressing a softer kiss to the abused skin. 

“Who says I meant anything more than this?” 

Her tone is teasing, challenging him. 

“Me.” 

He pushes himself up until he’s at eye level with her, placing kisses on her mouth, her cheeks. She laughs softly, cupping his face with one hand, kissing him back and holding him against her for a moment. 

“Okay,” she concedes, her fingers gliding over his shoulders and down his biceps. He suppresses a shudder at the goosebumps that follow her touch. “I— I sometimes like it when things are a little… rougher?” She shrugs, her expression just shy of embarrassed. “Rough enough to bruise, I guess.” 

Dave inhales sharply. The suggestion had tugged at the back of his mind all evening, obviously, but to hear her say it… His cock strains hard against the fabric of his pants and he lowers himself down just a little, giving himself just a hint of pressure against her thigh. Of course, she zeroes in on it like a huntress onto her prey. Her grin would be sharp enough to cut him if she tried. 

“Do you like that, too?” 

He gives something between a shrug and a nod, gratefully accepting another kiss when she pulls him down towards her lips again. “I— maybe. I’ve never—” 

“Would you want to try?” 

And fuck, does he want to try. Just— It always left him feeling kinda fucked up, when he jerked off to another porn video labeled rough sex or hard spanking or punishment. Wasn’t he fucked up for getting off to that? And sure, the women in the videos were getting paid for it, but would any of them really… want this? 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s the opposite of how he wants to be right now, his voice all timid and unsure of himself. He wants to be powerful, in control, but in this second, it rather feels like the opposite.

Carol laughs softly and nods, gripping his shoulders and motioning for him to move. He goes willingly, watches her take off her dress and straddle him in only her underwear. The bruise he sucked into her skin is an uneven shape in the semi-darkness, a mark that he left on her. Fuck, he’s gonna leave more if she really wants him to. 

“Okay,” she coos against his cheek, peppering his skin with kisses. “I’ll tell you what I like, and if you want to, you can do that. Deal?” 

He can only nod, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“I like being slapped.” Her voice is soft, her breath ghosting over his chest. “On my ass, my tits. Pinched, too.” Dave’s hips buck into her and she moans into his mouth. His hands find her waist, holding her tightly. 

“What else?” 

She grins at the tone, at the way the question comes through his gritted teeth. She leans down, her mouth right next to his ear. 

“I want you to fuck me, so hard that it hurts. So hard that I’m sore the next day.” 

Her teeth nip at his earlobe while her hips bear down on him, a soft moan escaping her when he meets the movement with his own. 

“Okay.” His voice is husky to his own ears, already breathless with arousal. His cock is throbbing in his pants. “You’ll— you’ll tell me? If it’s too much?” 

“Of course,” she promises. Her hands dip under his shirt, gliding over his naked stomach, up to his chest. His muscles quiver under her touch. “Get this off?” The words land on his lips along with her warm breath and he lets her push the fabric upwards, revealing his bare skin to her. He feels like he’s already burning up, his body hot under her fingertips, eager for what’s to come. 

Dave’s own hands find his belt buckle, hastily opening it and pushing both his pants and his underwear down in one quick motion. His cock is already leaking, hot and heavy when he pumps himself once. Carols reaches back and opens her bra, letting her tits spill out and right into his waiting hands. 

He has always liked playing with her nipples. Liked how it made her squirm, how needy it made her moans sound. He starts like this, with what he knows. She shifts around in his lap, sighing his name. The soaked fabric of her panties rubs against him, teasing him. 

With his eyes trained on her face, he scrapes a fingernail over her nipple, watches her mouth fall open and her eyes squeeze shut when he pinches the hard nub between his thumb and pointer finger and tugs. Just a little bit, just to try, but the reaction spurs him on. 

“Again, please,” she sighs, her own fingernails digging into his chest. 

“Yeah?” he breathes, both hands finding her breasts now and tugging simultaneously, a bit harder this time. 

Carol’s moan reverberates through the room and her back arches, pushing her breasts into his hands. It elates him, to be able to make her feel like this, to elicit this reaction from her. 

Impatient now, driven by hot need pulsing through him, he pushes her underwear to the side and thrusts his hips up, sinking into her. She meets him halfway, with a cry of his name on her lips. 

Her slick warmth engulfs him as her tight walls open up for him, making room for how his cock snaps into her. One of his hands is still toying with her nipple, teasing and tugging, and his name falls from her lips in needy little whimpers. He loves to watch her like this. And there’s more, more she allowed him to do, things he wants to— 

He hesitates for a second, taking her in, the bliss on her face, the movement of her body. Then, as if his brain finally short-circuits, he gives in to the desire. His hand connects with her ass cheek in a satisfying slapping sound. A loud, surprised moan tumbles from her mouth, in time with her nails digging into his flesh and her walls clenching around him so tightly that it takes all his willpower to not come then and there. 

“Fuck,” he grits out, his hand coming down a second and a third time before he can stop himself. It’s a strange thrill, letting himself loose like this. And to see Carol take it all, to know that she asked him to do this, that she likes it— 

He thrusts upwards with all the force he has while she bears down on him hard, crying out his name again. He wants, needs more. Gritting his teeth, he anchors her to himself with one hand on her hip while the other connects with her breast. It’s intoxicating, seeing the way her flesh bounces under his touch, seeing a shudder of pleasure ripple through her, seeing her throw her head back in reaction. 

He wants to do it again, see it again, so he does. His hand colors her flesh red, marking her, bruising her, adding to the spot by her collarbone. 

Without thinking, his fingers tangle in her hair, giving it a light tug. She reads the question on his face without needing words. 

“Fuck, please.” 

Her grin mirrors his when he fucks up into her and fists the strands tighter, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. Her nails scramble for purchase on his chest, probably leaving her own red marks on him. 

Her walls are engulfing him impossibly tight, her thighs are trembling, and he feels his climax approaching dangerously fast. With one hand still in her hair, the other trails down her naked body, groping where he can, until his fingers find her clit and press down with practiced ease.

“Wait,” she gasps, and he stills instantly, letting go of her hair like he’s been burnt. Was he too rough, did he hurt her, read her wrong? 

“Are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t—” 

His hands cup her face, searching her expression for any indication of what might be wrong. 

Carol shushes him gently, her lips connecting with his, her tongue slipping into his mouth for a short moment. 

“I’m okay.” She allows herself a grin and a nip to his bottom lip. “I just thought, maybe we could—” She hesitates, a hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “Maybe you could fuck me from behind?” 

“Fuck,” he murmurs, kissing her back more urgently now, his own teeth sinking into her lip in retaliation. “Move, then.” A playful slap lands on her backside, making her giggle. 

She scrambles off of him and to her knees, taking off her underwear in the process and flinging it across the room. When Dave gets to his feet, she’s already kneeling on the mattress, her bare ass presented to him, her back arched and her legs spread, giving him a perfect view and perfect access. 

“So hard that you’ll feel it tomorrow?” he asks, leaning over her and leaving kisses over her shoulders. 

“So hard that I’ll walk funny tomorrow,” Carol quips back, making him groan. 

Hooking his hands over her hips and holding her steady, he fucks into her in one hard stroke, making her cry out. Pistoning into her, making sure that she feels him as deep as possible, that he’s staking his claim even inside of her. He slaps her ass again as well, a few times in quick succession, mesmerised by the red that’s blooming across her skin almost instantly and the sweet sounds of her moans in his ears.

She has sneaked one of her hands between her legs and he feels her clenching around his cock over and over, covering him in her wetness with every thrust that he punches deep inside of her. 

“Come for me,” he demands when he feels her becoming almost impossibly tight, feels her walls beginning to flutter, his hand finding her bruised skin once more.

Her scream of his name is muffled into the sheets, but the wild trembling of her body and the rhythmic squeezing of his cock hit him with full force, pulling him over the edge right along with her. 

Her hand blindly reaches for his at her back and he links his fingers with hers, spilling his own pleasure into her. His whole body feels shaky, the orgasm spreading through his whole body, down to his fingertips. He already knows that he’s gonna be addicted to this. 

Gently, he maneuvers her body onto the mattress and lets her pull him down beside her. She looks wrecked, but the smile on her face is dazzling, making him want to kiss her beautiful mouth until his lips are raw. 

“Was— was this okay?” he breathes out, his chest heaving and his skin damp with sweat, but his expression probably matching hers perfectly. 

“More than okay,” he assures him, running her fingers through his hair. 

It’s stupid, but looking back later, Dave swears that he knew at that moment that he wanted to marry her.

thank you for reading! reblogs and comments are love <3

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

Daphne! Congrats on your follower Milestone! 💜

Not that I need and bribbles (ehehehe) to keep following you (I would follow you anywhere 🥰) buuuut I really wanna read

"And what do we have here?" with either Dave York or Reed Richards or Frank Castle

or all of them together 👀

Can't wait to read what your beautiful brain comes up with!

sweet nonnie!!

thank you so much for your kind words, i'm so happy that you're here with me 💛

also: thank you for sending this in, i chose to write for Frank Castle, i hope you will like it!

you can find your accidentally turned into a fic drabble here: for me?

once again, THANK YOU and take good care <3

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

for me?

Frank Castle x f!reader | wc ~1.7 k | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: Frank's lap is the best place for dry humping and being fingered

warnings: no y/n, barely any plot except ✨they are fwb and in denial✨, making out while sitting in Frank's lap, dry humping until it's not, fingering (f receiving), Frank talking you through it, finger sucking because it's me, squint and you miss possessive Frank, affectionate smacks on the ass, petnames (pretty girl, 1x attagirl 🫦), hand on the throat but just for the aesthetics, pussy pronouns, dm me if I missed any, not beta'd because I'm rebellious

a/n: another drabble for my follower milestone event, thank you nonnie for requesting "and what do we have here?". i just need to ride Frank so bad, blame this month's ovulation. 😩 a big thank you and a smooch to @guiltyasdave for literally sitting with me while I was writing this 💛💛💛

There were too many feelings for something casual. For something to just take the edge of.

“You're needin’ me too much, pretty girl,” Frank says when he rests his head in your lap.

“We shouldn't meet this often, just makes things complicated,” you say when you put your stuff in a drawer he has emptied out for you.

“Can never make you happy,” he whispers against your forehead before he places a lingering kiss there.

Maybe you both turned blind to the obvious. Or just got comfortable in the coziness of your ignorance. Whatever it is, neither of you wants to stop playing pretend. Just friends. Just casual. No big deal. We can stop anytime, you both say, like addicts lying straight to themselves.

“Don't need you,” you murmur and climb into his lap.

“Don't need you either,” he replies, gruff voice polished all soft in the crook of your neck.

“Just want you.”

“Mhmm,” he hums, his hands roaming up your thighs to your ass and he pulls you deeper into his lap. Wanting you to feel him.

You learned quickly that there were hardly any boundaries for Frank's hands. What they wanted to break, they broke. What they wanted to rip open, they ripped open. What they wanted to touch, they got to touch.

“Frank,” you whine quietly, pushing back into his hands, dragging your lips up his neck and along his jawline. Whining again when his dark scruff burns on your lips. Yelping when he smacks you and kneads your stinging flesh.

“I know, pretty girl,” he mutters into your ear and nips your earlobe.

He knows. You see it in his eyes the moment before you start kissing. Making out, your hands gripping the backrest of the couch and the back of his neck. He knows you need him. Want him. Not just benefits and friendship.

“Jus’ like that,” Frank grunts, sucking your lip between his. His hands, unbounded in their will to unravel you, start pulling and pushing. Guiding you in your movements when you need no guidance. You let him move you willingly.

He drags you over all the hard parts, belt and bulge. He draws soft sounds out of you, soft and sweet, and he eats them right out of your mouth.

It's leisurely, rolling and rubbing against each other just for the sake of getting drunk on each other, desperate for the other one, hungry for the feeling of hot skin on hot skin. Frank waits until you whine his name, until you breathe more heavily from humping him like a desperate little thing.

He’s patient, he’s able to push his own needs aside, still a soldier, still serving.

“Touch me,” you breathe out with your lips swollen from his nips. Shaky from the relentless back and forth on Frank’s lap.

A finger slips under your top, then two and three fingers. You whine again because it is not what you want. But his nails scraping over your lower back are better than nothing. He shifts, pushes his hips upwards, spreading his legs even wider. He is so hard in his jeans. If you’d care to look down you would see a dark spot in the denim.

If he'd care to look down he would see a dark spot in your short, too.

You press down, in need of more friction when the slick in your panties barely lets you feel any. He grunts, fingers digging into your back and then slipping into the back of your shorts. With a handful of your ass he holds you in place and grinds up into you.

“No. Touch me!”

He grins when you whine again, another breathy complaint coming from you.

“'m touchin’ you, pretty girl. Feel that?”

You do. You feel his other hand slipping behind the elastics and fabric. His fingers connect one spot with another with a tender brush, zigzagging his way deeper into your panties.

“Mhmmm, and what do we have here?” Frank doesn't have to do much searching or probing, he can feel your arousal right on his fingertips.

“Is this for me?” he asks, his nose nudging your chin, making you look at him. “All this wet and just for me?”

You nod your head, unable to put up an act whenever he is like this, so sweet. “Yes,” you breathe softly, “‘s for you.”

“Thought so,” he murmurs, and you can feel each word rumble in his chest.

Frank looks at you, brown eyes flitting over your face. Your droopy lids, your lips ajar the tiniest bit with the tip of your tongue between your teeth. Your impatience shows with how your shoulders tense up. You're holding your breath. Waiting for the impact.

He dips one finger between your folds and smiles when you whimper. He adds a second finger, moves them back and forth, coating you and him with your slick. Curls his fingers, wedged tightly against your entrance.

“Frank,” you whisper and your muscles tighten even more. Ready to pounce. Ready to be pounced.

His hand, the one still on your ass, pulls you closer and onto his two fingers. Joint for joint Frank spreads you open until he's nestled inside you. Knuckles deep with your pussy clenching around him.

“‘s for me, right?” he husks and kisses your moan right off your lips when he pulls you back again with the handful of your ass. “She's just for me? Tell me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you whisper, your lips ghosting over his.

His fingers slip back inside you when he pushes you forward again. Frank grunts, satisfied with your answer and your slick walls gripping his fingers. “That's right, pretty girl.”

He's guiding your movements, just like before. Back and forth, letting you fuck yourself on his fingers. Allowing you to bite into the coiled muscles of his shoulder and neck when you want to go faster than he lets you to.

He knows you, knows where to push and rub, when to a third finger, only for a few thrusts, and when to leave you on the edge with just two of his fat fingers stuffing you.

With every tilt of your hip you grind against the heel of his palm, every cant bringing you closer. You tighten and clench, your hands grab for anything that is Frank. His arms or chest. Knowing he doesn't mind it when you forget about being gentle, when you can't really be anything else but gentle. Just desperate and aching, just for him.

“Need me so bad you gonna cum.”

It's not a question. It's a simple fact. Stated with a low hiss when your nails leave small halfmoon imprints on the taught skin of his arms.

What his hands want to break, they'll break. They will ruin and wreck as they please. And so it's three fingers again with the next thrust. Buried inside you, all the way to his calloused knuckles. Making you whimper and your pussy squelch.

“Gonna cum on my fingers? So needy for me you gonna cum all over my hand?” he asks, voice just as breathy as your moans.

Your eyes lock with his for a moment, and if your cunt clamping down on his three digits isn't already proof enough of how close you are, the look on your face is.

He curls his fingers, almost hooking himself inside of you, right where you need it and where only Frank manages to reach. You start rocking against his palm, pinned down by three fingers and just enough range of motion to rub your clit against his hand, coated with your arousal.

“Jus’ like that, pretty girl. Take what you need. Make yourself cum for me,” Frank groans and moves the hand from your ass up, higher, squeezing whichever of your curves he passes on his way to your neck.

And while you fuck yourself stupid on his fingers he gently wraps his hand around your throat.

Holding you up just slightly, holding you in place, holding you close to him. Holding your gaze.

Seeing your face twitch while he feels your cunt twitch. Seeing your eyes roll back when he changes the angle of his fingers and pushes into deeper, just a little bit, just to let you feel the stretch of his knuckles.

You moan his name one last time before you cum. A feral expression is edged into Frank's face now. The last thing you see is his tongue wetting his lips, then your vision turns white.

This is the part he loves most, seeing you letting go, just for him and only because of him. He loves the way your brows pinch together with each wave of your orgasm, loves the way you lose control of your body and are just held together by his hands.

“That's it, pretty girl,” he praises between his own groans, feeding you each one of them, right into your opened mouth. “I got you. You're doin’ so good for me.”

He's rubbing the heel of his palm to your sensitive clit until you start squirming.

“Frank, it's too much,” you whine, but Frank is not yet loosening his hold on your throat. He's still holding you in place, right where you belong. In his lap.

“Thought you wanted me to touch you? Ain't that right?” He chuckles, all rough and warm, like his hand between your legs, but then eases up. “Attagirl,” he murmurs and distracts you from pulling his fingers out of you with a harsh kiss.

A kiss that gets sweeter the moment a finger slips through your lips, followed by a second. You moan at the taste of your pussy, sucking Frank's digits deeper into your mouth.

“You're too greedy, pretty girl,” Frank says and pulls his fingers back only to lick the third one clean himself. “You're too needy, told ya.”

You roll your hips, knowing exactly that he is painfully hard.

“You're looking pretty needy, too, y’know?” you smirk, rocking against his bulge once more. Your move elicits one of his reluctant grunts from him.

“We gotta stop doing this,” Frank huffs, his hand already going from your neck to his belt buckle. “Ain't gonna end well.”

“Too many words,” you chide, working his fly open. “Too many clothes.”

You push your hand into his jeans, his cock hard and hot in your palm.

“Is this for me, Frank?”

thank you for reading, let me know how you liked it. i'd love to get some feedback on my first Frank fic <333

drabbles bribery masterlist here

general masterlist here

dividers: @saradika-graphics

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

writing Frank Castle instead of something people actually want to read? more like than you think

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

porn is bad because [christian talking point] and [alt-right study] and [misunderstood neurochemistry] and of course [feature of capitalism]

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

frank castle manspreading.

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

‘cause in your pickup truck with all of your dumb luck, is the only place i think i’d ever wanna be ♡

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

you'll get the urge as an artist or a writer to say out loud the things you're worried about "the proportions are off" "kind of out of character" "i'm not good at summaries" "didn't get as much detail as i wanted" "i made a mistake and here's how" and that's the self-conscious part of your brain telling you "it's bad and if you don't tell them you know it's bad then they'll think you're stupid" but you've got to ignore that little voice and pretend you think it's good or else that little voice is going to ruin your life

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

NOAH WYLE as DR. JOHN CARTER in ER S12 E20 “There Are No Angels Here” (2006)

#i love arm

[sizzlingcloudmentality]

slower

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~2,4k

summary: One fine morning you overthink a little too much for Dave's liking, so he prescribes you his tried-and-true treatment: cockwarming. He continues to be just a guy <3 can be read as part 2 to slow, but works as a standalone as well

warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, reader is ablebodied, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, creampie, cockwarming but make it oral, deep throat-ish but not really, squint and you miss the dacryphilia, pussy pronouns, dick pronouns, pet names (honey, puppy), soft (dom)!Dave deserves his own warning, feelings

a/n: these two sat in my drafts since slow came out: to everyone who loved part 1, thank you and I hope you'll enjoy this one, too. my undying love and gratitude to @guiltyasdave because she beta'ed again (thanks bby) and reassured me by saying this is still Dave even if he's a little soft for his girl. I'd be so lost without you Jana 💛 tagging @sp00kymulderr as well because ✨dick pronouns✨ (justice for dick pronouns y'all)

Sunday morning. He ran. He made coffee. He showered. He stands next to your side of the bed with a steaming cup in his hand.

Your nose twitches, he can see it. It's either the coffee or the scent of his body wash that pulls you out of your sleep. 

You look so pretty, with that tiny gap between your lips, your lashes slowly fluttering against your cheeks as you wake up.

The coffee finds its place on the bedside table and Dave sits down, the mattress dipping under his weight. Finally you open your eyes, and when you see him, still wet from the shower and not already dressed, a smile touches your lips.

“There she is,” he hums with a smile of his own and gently cups your jaw in one hand. His thumb drags down your bottom lip before letting go of it again. 

You know him. At least the things that he lets you know about him. And he's having thoughts, you can clearly see it in the way he is staring at your mouth and the way his thumb looks pressed against the soft flesh of your lips.

You kiss the pad of his finger, adding a little kitten lick after and smirk when his eyes narrow for a split second. You got him. 

“What are you thinking about, handsome?” You stretch your body and lean one of your bare legs against his wet back.

“None of your business,” he grumbles, feeling his resolve slip away. You were onto him. Usually he is too clever and stubborn to fall for your weak manipulation attempts. But this morning he is feeling soft.

You pout, pursing your lips against his thumb that still moves along them. ‘Meanie,’ you mouth silently before licking his thumb again, slowly, as if you want to drag the digit into your mouth when you pull your tongue back.

It is so obvious, you don't even try to conceal the way you want him.

His thumb slips between your lips and when you make that little muffled uh and start to lazily twist your tongue around his finger, he can feel the memory of this feeling between his legs.

He needs you. 

“That's better, isn't it, honey. Keeping your pretty mouth busy and filled.”

You shift your body, move it closer to Dave and his towel clad thighs, your hands snaking over the sheets towards him.

He pushes his thumb deeper into your mouth, pressing down onto your tongue to get you from licking to sucking and you oblige, like you always do.

With half lidded eyes, another moan doesn't quite make its way past his finger and stays stuck in your mouth. Your thighs clamp together and your eyes open again, only to find your own desire mirrored in his expression.

You need him, too. To trust you enough to be soft around you, vulnerable. Just once.

“Too many thoughts in your pretty little head…” Dave shakes his head dismissively when he sees your tiny worry-line appearing between your brows. “When I fill your mouth, you better only think happy thoughts, honey. Or none. That's what I would prefer.”

Unceremoniously he pulls his thumb from your mouth and the deepening line between your brows makes him laugh a little.

“Poor baby,” he mocks with so much softness in his voice that his attempt to kiss your forehead smooth again works. 

You shuffle closer, your hand tugs his towel to the side so you can rest your cheek on his naked thigh. Skin to skin. You crave this nearness so openly and extensively that he can hide his own need for it behind your clinginess.

He never would admit it, but he enjoys it, the way you ask for his touch or simply just touch him whenever you need to. Which is often. Daves is sure about it, if you could and if he would let you, you would curl up in his lap like a loyal puppy.

He admires that about you, the fierceness with which you adore him. The way a heartfelt I love you slips from your lips so easily and the way you never are disappointed when he can't return the favor. He feels it, but words are hard for him. 

“What's worrying you, honey?” he coos quietly, looking down at you while he caresses your cheek.

“Nothing.” You. You worry me, David, you think to yourself while a finger follows the faint shadow of a vein appearing from under his towel.

“Mhmm… You're lying, honey.” A few droplets of water fall down from his wet hair and he wipes them away from your face. “Do you… want me to give you something to occupy your mind with? Something that helps you to get that adorable blank expression?” 

You nod your head slowly and a moment later Dave is on the bed and you are on him. The sheets rustle softly but the towel makes no sound when it slips open and down onto the floor.

A little pat on his thigh and you move without hesitation, curling your body between his spread legs and resting your cheek once again on him. 

It is comfortable, the position with your head in his lap, but also all of this. The absence of shame. Dave’s confidence and casualness with his body rubbed off on you. The definitions of naked, bare, exposed, vulnerable have shifted since you were with him. He often was bare before your eyes, he exposed his body in front of you, used and moved it as the high precision tool he thinks it is. But Dave was never vulnerable. 

You on the other hand have always been vulnerable when you were naked. He had a way of connecting your mind with your physical form and that made you exposed, bare, vulnerable. And seen and safe. Is he feeling safe with you?

“Stop overthinking,” he hums and strokes the back of your head. Such a good, loyal puppy for him.

“I can't.” The words are muffled against his skin, your lips occupied with scattering little kisses up his leg until you reach the always trimmed but never bare triangle. You stop and look up at him.

“You can. Just gotta focus, honey.” You are so pretty like this, so respectful, your mouth just one breath away from what you want and yet, you wait for his permission. “Let me help you,” he mutters softly. “What do you want?”

You move your head, your whole body, closer and nuzzle the patch of shortened curls at his base. “Him. Please.” 

You already miss him. It's been a couple of days. And the last time Dave helped you with your extensive overthinking has been even longer. You need him, them. A faint throb against your nose assures you that he needs you, too. Please, your eyes say when you look up again. He is so pretty like this, looking down at you.

“Go on. You can have him.”

You move again, immediately, and lick his limp dick into your mouth. He tastes so clean. Sweet almost. Purely David. Soft and sweet, resting on your tongue.

He continues to stroke your hair. There you are, curled up in his lap, needing him to help you relax. Such a good, good puppy.

“Don't move, just breathe.”

You nod and swallow. He starts growing. It never stops being magical. Slowly he crawls down your tongue, stretches into all directions that are you. Seeking your depths. You let him. 

It's peaceful, this morning, your head in Dave's lap, his hand in your hair, his hardening cock securely plugged in your mouth. No noise, just sheets rustling, your deep breaths, his sighs, your mewls. No movement except him, pushing himself deeper in the steady rhythm of Dave's pulse.

He begins to feel heavy. You know how he would look if you didn't hold him between your lips. Hanging, not hard enough yet to stand, point, spear. Just heavy hanging, swinging, giving the best slaps against your mouth and cheeks and pussy in this state. Full, heavy, promising. You want to suck him so bad. Want to suck him until he's rock hard and throbbing. You mewl again, sounding choked as he slowly makes it past the base of your tongue. 

Dave grips a fistful of hair and tugs. A reminder. Breathe for me, honey. And you do. In and out. In and out, no thoughts in your head, just his cock, who is forcing his way past your resistance. You breathe. You focus. You relax your jaw and your mind. Bliss. Your pussy pulses. You mewl.

“Such a good girl, you're doing so good.” He wants to move so badly. In and out. But he can't. You need him, trust him to take care of you. He sees the glossy sheen in your eyes as you're tearing up just the slightest bit. He's somewhere in there, he thinks and caresses your throat with his thumb. You don't like him there too much and he respects that boundary. But he loves being in there, loves seeing you getting teary eyed whenever you decide to grace him with your trust and kindness and take him as deep as you can. He's a bastard, he thinks when he coos at you, for taking such a pleasure in seeing you cry.

You swallow again, your saliva struggles past him on its way down and there it is, a fragrant hint of salt makes it to your palates. He is leaking. You see it in your mind: salty shimmery pearls, making a pretty string of beads down his cock, along that one pretty vein that throbs against your tongue right now. You mewl but all that you both can hear is a pathetic, strangled gurgle. A tear forms on your lash line and lands on your cheek. 

Dave takes it up with his thumb and licks it. Saltiness spreads on his tongue. A trade of salt, he gives you his, you give him yours. You're even, always. 

His hand loosens around your hair, it's over if you like, keep going if you want, puppy.

You struggle a few moments more around him while he takes up space in your throat and mind. Dave's eyes feel heavy on you, the love he never expresses with explicit words is carving the trails of your tears into your cheeks. He throbs violently and you pull yourself off of him, coughing.

You scramble to your knees and before you could even miss the feel of Dave's skin he has you pulled into his lap, cradling you, peppering you with sweet praise. How well you did with the breathing. How good and calm your mouth felt around him. How pretty you are. 

He feels it, your slick. Silky and sweet, sticking between your thighs, just from holding his cock in your mouth. Dave looks down, shifting you, encouraging you to straddle him and spread your legs wider, so he can see everything that is his.

Shimmery threads of sweetness, stretching from one inner thigh to the other. He sticks his fingers into it, twists them, turns them, spinning your thread of silk around his digits. He sucks them clean. Sweet. Like spun sugar but better. 

You look down, between your legs and watch him as he grips himself by the base, and twists more of you around him, mixing your sweetness with his saltiness, creating a smooth blend of sticky threads. You almost drool and add another liquid, but Dave is quicker.

With a small thrust he pushes himself inside of you, not hurried, not slow either, but determined and eager. Another wet, tight heat welcomes him this morning and he feels truly blessed for this woman on his lap. 

“Such a good puppy for me. So loyal,” he murmurs, voice strained and like gravel. Now it's you throbbing and pulsing, stretching around him but unwillingly, she likes to hold him close and tight, tucked away where he belongs. What you lack in clarity your pussy has enough of: she wants one thing and that is him. 

You tilt your hips, angling him deeper. You whimper and sling your arms around Dave's neck and you breathe, in and out, and he moves beneath you. In. And out. A determined rhythm, chasing nothing because why chase the inescapable? It will come, like Dave, like you. 

His hand finds his way down to the spot where you are joined, dipping and smearing in the salty sweet gooeyness, gliding over and circling around the nub that makes you hiss and your pussy clench violently.

“Feeling good, little puppy?” Dave groans and pushes his spread fingers deeper, feeling himself push inside of you and out again until the thick rim of his tip appears and disappears again.

You nod, head bouncing in the steady rhythm. In. Out. Up. Down. Full. Empty. Full. Empty. Deeper. Fuck, you're close. Deeper again, tensing, throbbing.

“Dave-”

“I know, honey. Be good.” Let go. Just breathe. In. Deep. Deeper, out. “Be a good puppy for me. I'm right there.” All he needs is you spasming around him and your whines. 

You angle your hips again, dragging your aching clit against his spikey trimmed hair that got all smooth and slick. Salty and sweet. Up, down, so fucking deep you wince, up, down, faster, again. Now you're chasing. Mind deliciously blank, just the hum of pleasure in your spine. So close. So deep, so full, so stretched around him you can't even clamp on him anymore. More. Down, deeper.

His fingers flick and he pinches your clit and you fall, white noise and moans in your ears, riding Dave through the wave of your orgasm. Feeling him filling you now. Feeling his fingers digging into your hips and pressing you down on him, so deep inside of you and he whines. A sweet whimper of your name, breathed into your ear and securely locked away in your mind with a kiss. 

You both breathe heavily now, in and out, sticky skin, gasps trickling from your mouths, arms encircling, little giggles mixed in, to make a soft, warm blend of safety.

He feels safe with me, you think and when you lean back, just enough to look at Dave's face, he mouthes something that looks like love and you and you securely lock those words away with a kiss.

comment or reblog to get an anti-overthinking session with Dave (I'm in dire need of one myself, help)

find my Dave York masterlist here

read part 1 here

part of the in the sheets collection

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @/saradika-graphics

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Pizza Index strikes again.

Trump is trying to play this like he and his administration had no knowledge of Israel's attack on Iran, but the Index never lies.

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oh the agony of writing smut

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PEDRO PASCAL as HARRY CASTILLO MATERIALISTS (2025) dir. Celine Song

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thinking about this so much today...........

little lion

pairing: Oberyn Martell x OFC

word count: 394

tags/warnings: alcohol consumption, i think that’s it?

a/n: @catchallfangirl gave me the prompt “finally, something we can agree on”, oberyn and thirty minutes to write. this is the result :)

follow @guiltyasdavenotifs for fic updates and find my full masterlist here!

dividers by @plum98 <3

She sips her wine, not listening to her father who is rambling on about uniting houses and how much good it would do for the people of the realm.

It’s not about the realm, let alone the people living in it. She knows it, he knows it, everybody in the room knows it. It’s about power. It’s about the iron throne and ensuring who will sit on it.

The man two tables over from hers catches her wandering gaze and raises his own cup in a quiet toast. As he drinks, he winks at her. She hates the blush creeping up on her cheeks, hates the fact that he can see it, even in the candlelight, if the smug look on his handsome features is any indication. She hates his dark eyes, the glinting of the golden chain around his neck, the way it accentuates the panes of his strong chest, his golden skin, visible through his robe.

She needs some air.

Quietly excusing herself, she rises to her feet and leaves the hall, climbing stairs until she reaches one of the higher floors where the thick stony walls open into big windows, overlooking the city below them.

Lights are twinkling in the darkness of the night, until the city gives way to the ocean, moonlight reflecting off of its surface.

She feels his presence before she hears his quiet steps behind her.

“Prince Oberyn.”

“Hello, little lion.”

Goosebumps form on her neck. He’s closer than she anticipated, she can almost feel his breath on her skin. His voice is low, gravely behind her, his accent wrapping around the pet name. The stupid pet name that he won’t stop using and that sounds much too good from his lips.

“I told you not to call me that.”

He tuts gently, twirling one of the long blonde curls of her hair between his fingers, before giving it a light tug.

“Why did you leave?”

“I was bored.”

It might not be the whole truth, but it’s not necessarily a lie, either. He chuckles, still playing with her hair.

“Finally, something we can agree on.”

She turns her head towards him, eyes searching his. He’s much too close. He gently trails one finger over her cheekbone.

“We shall leave the talking to your father and my brother. Let me walk you to your chambers, little lion.”

thank you for reading! if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask. interaction is what keeps writers going <3

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No more apologizing for being horny on main. No more horny jail. We’re horny prison abolitionists. No gods, no masters! Wait. Okay maybe a few masters. Alright but no bars will hold us! No whips and chains will — fuck, hang on, let me start again.