#dave york x fem. reader

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Revenge

Summary: Scared to end up alone you hang on to your marriage of 15 years to your cheating husband, continuing to play the perfect wife. But then you meet Dave York, your husbands boss, on one of his work events and things take a very surprising turn....

Pairing: Dave York x fem. Reader

Wordcount: 5.5k

Rating: E

Warnings: infidelity, angst, forced cucking (cheating husband has to watch his wife have sex with one Dave York), smut (unprotected sex, oral f receiving), Cum play, public fingering, use of the word whore, intense eye contact, flirting like woah

A/N: I worked on this for four weeks and I'm super proud of it. Please let me know what you think. Some people might recognise the scene at the bar from the movie Shame.

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You would be lying if you said you did not imagine yourself in this situation before. 

Sitting with an attractive man at a bar, flirting. Maybe even something more…

Many lonely nights in the bed you should be sharing with your husband left your mind wandering to what life could be like if you had married a man who respected and loved you. 

Though you were pretty sure Calvin did love you in the beginning, maybe he even loved you now. In his… own way. It just changed somewhere between moving into your first real home together and you getting a job that paid more than his. 

You just weren’t enough to… satisfy all his physical needs anymore, hadn’t been for a long time. It was an open secret that he was cheating on you, you just weren’t brave enough to leave him, even though you could. You had the job, the friends, the money. You just… did not know how to be alone. 

Which was a stupid thing to think because you spent the majority of your relationship being alone. 

It came to a point where you weren’t even mad or hurt anymore, whenever you found stains of lipstick on his shirts that you for some reason still washed for him. 

It was… easier living this lie than separating from the man you had been with for the last fifteen years. You loved the life you had built together. You just wished you weren’t so miserable and lonely living it alone. 

You hadn’t slept with Calvin since you found out about the first time he cheated on you, which was almost eight years ago. He said he was sorry, begged for your forgiveness, which you granted him. But you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him before he would prove that you could trust him to be honest and faithful with you. That, and a clean bill of health.

He never did. 

You were more like roommates at this point. And even though you did not know the exact extent of his infidelity, you still played the perfect wife for him whenever he needed you to. 

You looked away when he flirted with women much younger than you when you were out. Which wasn’t often. Only when there was something from work or something your friends had invited you both. 

It was one of those work events he insisted you accompany him, leaving you sitting alone as soon as you entered the place at the bar. 

You were about to call it a day when a man sat down next to you.

Calvin was off somewhere while you were sitting in a darker corner at the bar, enjoying your martini as he, his boss Dave York, introduced himself to you, inviting you for another drink

There was something in his eyes when you told him your name. A glint of interest when he learned that you were the wife of Calvin Miller. 

You learned that Dave was recently divorced and had moved into an overpriced penthouse that felt too empty and sterile. His wife had fallen in love with another woman and because he did not want to stay in the way of her happiness, he had let her and his two daughters move all the way to Europe while he stayed back. 

Dave York was… charming, hot and had something dangerous about him that made you only more interested in him. It was the first time in a long time that you felt like someone was really interested in you and what you had to say. 

You saw Calvin across the room, talking to one of the serving girls who was blushing furiously as she looked at him while he tried to charm his way into her pants. 

Sighing you closed your eyes, taking a sip from your drink, breathing in deeply, finding Dave looking at you. 

“You know he’s fucking himself through the whole city right?” he asked. 

You nodded.

“I know he’s cheating frequently, I just.. Chose to ignore how many women exactly he fucks as long as it doesn’t happen in our home.”

Dave sucked his bottom lip in, intrigued. 

“You don’t mind?”

You shrugged. 

“Part of me does. Sometimes I feel like a coward for not leaving him. I know I deserve more. I deserve someone who loves me and respects me. Who asks me how my day was, who notices when I got a new hair colour, who…. Fuck I just feel so lonely sometimes.”

“So why don’t you leave him?”

“Honestly?” you whispered, sucking your bottom lip in. Dave nodded, turning in his seat to lean a little closer towards you. You smelled his aftershave, allowing yourself to take a deep breath before you answered him.  

“I don’t think I know how to live on my own, and staying where I am even if it sucks is… easier? We met in highschool, got married before we got out of college. I have spent my whole adult life with him. Fuck… I never even had sex with anyone other than him,” you chuckled humorlessly. 

“Do you want to?” Dave asked and you looked up. 

“Do I want what?”

“Have sex with someone else?” 

His hand came to rest on your knee and you shivered, your eyes on his hand. His fingers were softly squeezing just above your knee. You felt each of his fingers on you, only separated by the thin material of the silk dress you were wearing. You looked up, your lips parting. 

“Dave…”

“He doesn’t deserve you, you know? If I had you in my house, in my home, in my bed?” he leaned in closer, his lips brushing over your ear and your eyes slipped close. Unintentionally you parted your legs, your dress revealing a glimpse of your inner thigh and you shuddered as he took this as an invitation, his fingers slowly running up your inner thigh.

“I’d make sure your pussy is the only one I’m fucking. I might be an asshole, but I’m a loyal asshole,” his nose brushed over your neck as he seemed to inhale your scent, his fingers slipping deeper between your legs which seemed to part even wider for him with ease. 

“Did he ever go down on you?” he hummed, his fingers brushing over the soaked fabric of your lace panties. You released a shuddering breath, closing your eyes. 

“I bet he hasn’t treated this pussy properly. I’d make sure you’d soak my face every single day when I had you in my bed, my kitchen counter, my desk…” his fingers hooked into your panties, pulling them to the side. 

“Look at me,” he whispered and while your eyes opened he slowly pushed two of his fingers inside of you. A part of you knew that you were in a public space, yet looking into Dave’s dark eyes made you feel like you were the only two people on the planet. 

He slowly moved his fingers, your body screaming in pleasure from the way his fingers seemed to know just how to touch you, while you tried to keep a straight face as he kept looking at you with dark eyes. 

“I like to slip my tongue deep inside of you,” he hummed and you couldn’t help but gasp as his fingers pulled out of your pussy, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You looked down at his fingers, your eyes following them as he brought them up to his lips. You could see them glistening with your juices, while he brought them up to his mouth sucking them clean. 

“Just when you’re about to cum, licking you clean before I finally give you my big cock,” he tilted his head to the side, looking at you as he licked his lips with a filthy smirk. 

You jumped in your seat when an arm sneaked around your middle from behind, your eyes leaving Dave’s to find Calvin standing next to you, glaring at you before he looked at Dave. 

“I see you met my wife, Dave,” he said. 

“I did and It’s Mr. York to you, Miller,” Dave said bored, picking up his drink to take a sip, keeping his eyes on you. 

You were still flushed, your brain trying to get back to speed. 

“How come you are here with your wife and not in the bathroom getting your dick sucked by one of the college waitresses, Miller?” Dave asked.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Dave,” Calvin said, letting go of you to grab your drink, chugging it down himself. Dave looked amused at you and then at him, his face hardening. 

“Come on, we’re all friends here, don’t lie in front of your wife,” he said. You risked a glance at Calvin who looked at his boss with his lips parted in shock. 

Dave looked at you then, a silent challenge in his eyes. 

“I love my wife,” Calvin said and you snorted. His head snapped to look at you. 

“You sure have a funny way of showing it,” you rolled your eyes and Dave laughed. 

“Tell you what, why don’t you go back to whatever cunt you were after and I keep your wife company,” Dave said. 

“With all due respect, Dave…” Calvin began to talk but Dave shot him a dark look. 

“Call me Dave one more time and see what happens, Mister Miller,” he threatened and you felt Calvin stiffen beside you. Interesting. 

He took a deep breath before he looked at you. 

“I was gonna head home,” Calvin said, looking at you with a question in his eyes. You turned your head to look at Dave. You didn’t want to leave. And you knew Calvin only lied about going home because he either didn’t find someone else to fuck or… because he had a weird spurge of jealousy now that someone was giving you attention and felt like he had a claim on you. Which a silly part of your brain made you feel powerful. 

“I’m sure Dave can give me a ride later?” you asked, with an eyebrow raised. Dave chuckled, one of his hands coming back to rest on your knee. 

“Of course I can, Sweetheart.”

When Dave drove you home a couple hours later, Calvin wasn’t home. Not that you were surprised. 

Dave and you had spent the whole evening talking. And flirting. Call it needy and years of neglect, but fuck you wanted him. 

You invited Dave in for a drink and he followed you into your home. 

Sitting beside him in your living room you sighed. 

“I feel so… Fuck I don’t know. Weak? Silly? Worthless? Like a fucking victim, even though I have everything I need to just…. Live my own life and don’t let him humiliate me like that.”

Dave sighed. 

“Ending a marriage is not easy. Feelings aren’t something you can’t just turn off. You’re not worthless. You are… fucking perfect,” Dave said and you turned your head to look at him. 

“I want him to feel how humiliated he makes me feel,” you said. 

“What are you thinking?”

You sucked your bottom lip in, blaming the idea forming in your head on your slightly tipsy brain. 

“Are you free on friday?” you asked, a plan forming in your mind. He narrowed his eyes. 

“I can be.”

You nodded, sucking your bottom lip in. You took both of your glasses, setting them down on the coffee table. Dave watched your every move as you got up, coming to stand between his legs. 

You didn’t know if it was the drinks you had or the way Dave York had given you his whole attention for the last hours, but you just wanted to feel something. Or someone. 

“It’s our anniversary,” you said quietly as you slowly settled down into Dave’s lap, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your upper thighs immediately, his hands pushing the skirt of your dress up, as your hands rested on his shoulders. You closed your eyes, your skin heating under his intense gaze. 

“I haven’t been fucked in eight years,” you whispered, moaning when you felt Dave’s hands wander over your body, squeezing your ass, pulling you closer towards him. You gasped as your clit rubbed just right over his growing bulge. 

“And… And I think I want you to fuck me while he has to watch,” unintentionally you began to move your hips against him. He smirked. 

“Eight years?” he asked and you nodded. He hummed.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” you whispered and he suddenly pulled at the belt of your wrap dress, the fabric falling open. 

“Fuck me,” he uttered under his breath, the green lace lingerie you were wearing driving him wild. One of his hands came back to squeeze your ass, while his other hand palmed one of your breasts. 

“Can you cum like that? Just with your needy little clit rubbing against me?” he asked and you moaned, your head nodding. 

“Then make yourself cum,” he said, before he leaned in and sucked on your nipple through your bra. 

“Fuck,” you cried out, rubbing yourself against him. 

“That’s it, you want me to fuck you in front of your cheating husband? Then cum for me,” he snarled, slapping your ass.

“I’m gonna… Fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, throwing your head back as your orgasm rolled through your body, making you shake against Dave. He helped you ride it out before you felt his hand in your neck as he pulled you towards him, crashing his lips against yours in a deep kiss. 

“When should I be here on friday?“ He asked and you smiled. 

Like every year, Calvin invited you for dinner for your anniversary in your favourite restaurant. 

Or more like, in the restaurant he thought was your favourite restaurant. 

He had given you the silent treatment since you decided to spend the evening with Dave instead of him, and you weren’t complaining. 

Something had changed since that night. You changed. 

He bought you a gift (a new vacuum cleaner, my god were you lucky), kissed you on the cheek and then ordered your dinner for you as soon as you sat down in the restaurant. 

You were quiet all evening, letting him vent about work and about how lucky he was to have you as his wife, smiling like the obedient little wife you were for him. 

Whenever he got up for a smoke, or to the bathroom or to order new drinks from the blonde bartender you reached for your phone, texting with Dave. 

It had been six days since you met him and the lust you were feeling for him was almost overwhelming. Maybe it had to do with you being sexually frustrated, but the way he talked to you made you want to be his good girl, eager to please him however you wanted to. 

He was very attentive, sending you gifts every single day while Calvin was in the office. You were working from home, surprised when Monday rolled around and a bouquet of red roses were delivered around lunch time. 

The next day it was a bracelet. 

The day after that lingerie. 

Part of you was overwhelmed with the attention you were receiving, while another part just wanted to let you enjoy it. 

You were rational, you knew whatever would happen with Dave York would not have a future. He wanted to fuck you, and you wanted to be fucked. Badly. 

And who were you to argue about your husbands boss being the one to fuck you brains out as a little… revenge?

You rolled your eyes as you saw the waitress slip Calvin his number after he went to pay. 

You had an AirBNB booked and most of your clothes and stuff already moved there yesterday. Earlier today you met with an divorce attorney. 

This was happening. 

You would be leaving him. Tonight. 

After he watched you being fucked by his boss. 

The only concern you had about the plan you set in motion was how you would make Calvin stay. But Dave had only told you that he’d make sure he would, not telling you how exactly he would achieve it. But you trusted him anyway. 

You had done a lot of thinking this last week. Maybe you had just needed someone to confide in, to tell you that you were worth more than being just a silly little wife. 

Healing from these last years would take a while, but you were ready to take your life back. 

Starting today.

You had told Dave that you would leave the backdoor unlocked, so you weren’t surprised when you found him sitting in the armchair next to your bed in the bedroom when you made your way upstairs after coming back home. 

Calvin was downstairs, picking a bottle of wine most likely in the hopes to get you drunk so he could try to get into your pants later. 

He tried this every year, some weird sense of martial duty coming over him. Not that he ever succeeded. 

And you had to give it to him, at least he did not spend your wedding anniversary fucking another pussy. 

“Hey,” Dave hummed, getting up as he walked over to you. 

“Hey,” you smiled, nerves kicking in as your head tilted down, watching your feet nervously. 

“You look beautiful,” he said and you couldn’t help but sigh. You had decided on a new dress, black, with a zipper in the front that ran down the whole length. You wanted do look pretty. 

For Dave.

You felt his fingers tilt your chin up, his eyes finding yours. 

“Are you still sure about this?” he asked. You took a deep breath before you nodded slowly. 

“Just… Just nervous. It’s been a while…. And…. I don’t know about him… here”

“We can get out of here. Just say the word and I’ll leave.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you brought a hand up, resting it on his chest. He covered your hand with his. 

“I want you to….” you pursed your lips, unable to say those words. 

“You want me to fuck you?” he whispered with a small grin. You nodded. 

“I want to fuck you too. Been thinking about your pussy since last week. Tasted so fucking good. You just need to decide if you want me to fuck you here, with your soon to be ex husband watching, or if I should take you to my place and make this pussy, my pussy, weep for me,” you felt his breath on your face as he whispered those words, your knees getting weak. 

“How… How about… both?” you finally asked with a shy little smile. 

He kissed you then, his lips pressing against yours for a quick but powerful moment. You whimpered. 

“Greedy,” he hummed with a smirk.

“Where is he?” Dave asked as he slowly led you to your bed. 

“Getting wine to make me drunk enough to fuck him,” you snorted and Dave rolled his eyes. 

You yelped when he pushed you against the mattress, hovering over you immediately, his eyes darkening. You parted your legs and he settled between them. Your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his weight on top of you.

“Pathetic little fucker,” Dave hissed before he kissed you again. 

You melted against him.

His tongue invaded your mouth, playing with yours, one of his hands running up your thigh.

“Dave,” you gasped, clutching the sheets as he kissed down your jaw. 

“You smell so fucking good,” he hummed, softly sucking on your neck. his fingers playing with the front zipper of your dress, pulling it slowly until the pink lace he had gifted to you was revealed beneath. 

“What the fuck is going on in here?” you heard a yell, following from a bottle shattering on the floor. Dave did not stop pulling at the zipper, his eyes on yours, until your bra was fully visible, the delicate lace hiding next to nothing. 

“I’m about to eat your wife’s pussy,” Dave said and you could not help but moan as he lowered his head, his lips kissing the soft skin above your tits. 

“You can’t… What the fuck…” Calvin cursed and you caught his eyes when he rounded the bed, now standing so he could look at you. 

“Sucks to be on the other side, huh?” you asked him, hearing Dave chuckle, before he pulled at the lace, his lips closing around your left nipple, making you arch your back against his chest. 

“You’re… you’re my wife,” Calvin argued and you moaned as Dave sucked. 

“Happy fucking anniversary,” you moaned, your hands unclenching from the sheets to bring them into Dave’s hair, pushing him against your tits. 

“I’m… I’m not gonna watch this,” Calvin said in disbelief, intending to turn around and leave.

“You sit right there on that chair and watch me fuck your wife, Miller,” Dave hissed, voice dangerously low, turning his head to look at Calvin who stopped in his tracks. 

You pussy clenched at his tone.

“Or what?” Calvin asked, not looking back. Dave found your eyes, kissing you quickly before he got up from the bed, walking over to Calvin. 

He leaned into him, whispering something against his ear. You saw Calvin clench his fists as he took a deep breath before he slowly turned around and walked over to the chair Dave had apparently put there just for him. 

Calvin’s eyes found yours and he clenched his jaw as he sat down. 

“Now, where were we?” Dave asked and you turned your head to look at him. Slowly he unbuttoned his dress shirt, pushing it off his shoulder, revealing his broad chest. Your eyes lingered all over his body, the prominent outline of his cock confided in his pants making your mouth water. 

Funny that just a week ago you had not missed sex at all, when now you could not wait for the man in front of you to ruin you. 

You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked up at him.

“Calvin, what was I about to do before you interrupted us?” he asked, his eyes not leaving your body. 

There was no answer, until a dark look came over Dave’s face, breaking eye contact to you only briefly to look at you husband. 

“You wanted to… eat my wife’s pussy,” he said quietly and Dave’s eyes lit up as he looked at you. 

“That’s right,” he said, before his hands wrapped around your ankles, pulling you down towards the end of bed. He leaned down, his hand pulling at the front zipper of your dress, parting the fabric. His lips following the zipper with every inch of your skin it revealed to him. 

“Like unwrapping a gift,” he said, kissing your stomach. He helped you get out of the dress, throwing it aside, before he got down on his knees, pulling each of your legs over his shoulders. 

Dark eyes found yours as he leaned closer towards your pussy, taking a deep breath. 

“When was the last time someone ate this pussy?” he asked, his fingertips coming to gently trace the pattern of the by now see through lace hiding your cunt from him. You were obscenely wet for the man kneeling between your legs. 

“Years,” you sighed. 

“Shame,” Dave tsked, kissing your inner thigh. You closed your eyes as his lips wandered up your thigh, almost to where you wanted him most when he kissed back down, starting the same pattern on your other thigh. 

“Dave,” you moaned. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his eyebrow in a silent challenge as he looked up at you. 

“Make me cum,” you said and he grinned.

“With pleasure.”

The moment Dave’s tongue slipped through your folds felt like the world shifted. He did not tease you, his tongue dipping inside of you while his nose moved over your clit had you moaning out wantonly. You fought the urge to throw your head back and close your eyes, keeping your eyes trained on the man who had you on the edge of an orgasm without even really having started. 

The moan coming from his mouth as he tasted you for the first time was downright pornographic and a memory you’d replay often in the future.

He moved his tongue between your folds before he went higher, his tongue flicking over your throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned out, your hands hesitantly reaching for him, one of his hands grabbing your wrists, pulling them closer towards him, your fingers disappearing in his soft hair. You scratched your fingernails over his scalp and he sucked your clit between his lips with a groan. 

You were sure you were dripping on the sheets, your legs crossed behind his shoulders as you moved your hips against his mouth. 

“I’m close….” you whimpered, your lips parted as you panted for air, your eyes closing for a moment before they snapped open when Dave slapped your thigh. 

“Look at me when I make you cum,” he grunted. 

With your eyes trained on him, your hand in his hair and his mouth on you it wasn’t long before he made you cum, your thighs shaking around his head as he continued to lick you up, giving you by far the best orgasm of your life while you moaned out his name. 

He gave your pussy one last kiss, before he got to his feet.

“Ready for my cock?” he asked. 

Slowly you sat yourself up, getting on your knees on the bed in front of him, pulling him down towards you, so you could kiss him. Your hands found his belt, unbuckling it.

“How do you want me?” you mumbled against his lips, eager to have him inside of you. You felt his lips twitch into a smile against yours, his hands unclasping your bra behind you, pulling it off your shoulders. 

One of your hands finally slipped into his pants, pulling his cock out. 

You tried to play off your surprise, but Dave saw your eyes widening. He pecked your lips. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we gonna make it fit,” he winked.

You risked a glance down to his hard cock. He was not much bigger than your husbands, but much thicker. Precum pooled on the angry red tip, and you bent down before you could stop yourself, your tongue licking it off, moaning as you tasted him. 

“Fuck,” Dave moaned and you looked up at him, seeing his eyes fixed on you. 

You had his whole attention and you were loving it. 

“Some other time sweetheart,” he said warmly, one of his hands cupping your cheek.

“Now I want you on your back so I can watch those perfect tits shake when I fuck my pussy,” he said. You shivered before you slipped back towards the center of the bed. Dave took his pants, boxers and socks off before he joined you on the bed. You parted your legs for him as he came to kneel between them, his hand lazily pumping his cock. 

You had discussed protection in the week leading up to today, coming to know that Dave had a vasectomy years ago. With him getting tested regularly and you not having had sex with anyone in a long time you had given him the freedom to decide if he wanted to use condoms or not. 

A big part of you was happy he didn’t because you wanted to feel him. All of him. 

He nudged his tip against your folds, moving it over your clit repeatedly. He reached for a pillow, your husband's pillow, propping it under your hips.

“You’re dripping for me sweetheart,” he grinned. You sighed, your hands coming to play with your nipples. 

Slowly his tip slipped inside of you and you stopped breathing for a second, enjoying the delicious stretch of his length parting your folds. 

“Shit Baby…” you moaned, sucking your bottom lip in. 

Ever so slowly, giving you time to adjust his cock filled you.

“You’re so fucking wet. Perfect just… fuck just perfect,” he praised you, groaning when his hips met yours, his cock completely inside of you. 

You felt so fucking full. 

“Move,” you whined.

“You’re such a whore,” you heard another voice, your eyes blinking as you registered your husband's voice, having completely forgotten about him. 

You found Dave’s eyes on you before you turned your head to find Calvin obediently sitting in the chair Dave had pulled for him. 

You took a deep breath before you turned your head to look at Dave again. 

“At least I’m your whore then,” you said to Dave and he grinned before he bottomed out and thrusted back into you. You cried out. 

He snapped his hips against yours, his hands grabbing your hips as he pumped into you. You threw your arms back, grabbing the headboard. 

Sex had never felt like this. Yes, you did not have much to compare it to, but fuck that was what you missed? He ruined you, slowly, with every thrust inside of you, with every brush of his fingers on your body. He watched mesmerized as your tits shook with every thrust, before his arms pulled you up against him, into his lap, your chest against his. You crossed your arms behind him, your hands on his neck as he fucked up into you. His hands helping you move on top of him. 

“Whose pussy is this from now on?” he asked, his voice dark. 

“Yours Dave, fucking yours,” you moaned.

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, slapping your ass. Your pussy clenched around him and you watched him cock his eyebrow. 

“You like that huh?” he smirked, doing it again and you moaned. 

“Maybe you are my little whore after all,” he hummed against your ear, thrusting into you. He continued to slap your ass until you exploded around him, crying out as he fucked your through your orgasm. 

It wasn’t long before he twitched inside of you, warmth filling you as he moaned against your lips. 

Both panting against each other's lips you smiled, letting your hand fall against his, before he leaned down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, making you clench around his cock. 

“That… That never happened before…” you said and he frowned, looking up at you. 

“I never came when he fucked me,” you clarified and Dave’s jaw twitched before he kissed your lips. 

“I should kill that fucker for how he treated you,” he mumbled against your lips and for reasons you had to unpack at another time, the thought made you clench around him. 

“Interesting,” he mumbled, giving you a wink.

“You came inside of her? What the fuck?” you rolled your eyes back as you heard Calvin exclaim. 

“And he made me cum. Twice. Guess it was not my fault you couldn’t after all,” you said without looking at him. 

Dave chuckled, before he helped you off, his cum dripping into the sheets. He slipped his fingers between your legs, pushing his cum back into you, before he brought his fingers up, holding them out for you. You sucked them clean for him, moaning at your combined taste.

But as much as you wanted just to lay back and enjoy the afterglow, you did not want to spend any more time than necessary in this house. 

Dave helped you out of bed, helping you into your dress before he got back into his clothes, pocketing your ruined panties and bra. 

He gave you a small smile, taking your hand.

You walked towards the bedroom door when you stopped and turned around. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Calvin screamed behind you and Dave turned around faster than you could notice, his hand stopping Calvin’s wrist before he could reach you. He yelped in pain and Dave let go, stepping between you and your soon to be ex husband. 

You took a deep breath, putting a hand on Dave’s shoulder who looked at you over his shoulder. You gave him a small nod, before you stepped to the side, still close enough, so he could intervene. Calvin was still looking at Dave with what you think was terror in his eyes. 

“Did you think I would stay by your side while you fucked your way through the country forever? Humiliate me like that? I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you, but you threw that away. And he helped me to see that. It’s embarrassing how long it took me. So we’re getting divorced, Calvin. You can keep the house and I keep my dignity. And my money,” you said. 

Calvin looked at you now, his eyes filling with tears. 

“Don’t you love me?” he asked, his voice small. 

You took a deep breath, looking at the man you once loved so much. Feeling nothing. 

“Not anymore,” you said, giving him a small sad smile before you took Dave’s hand. 

Dave gave Calvin one last look before he grabbed your purse and led you out of the house.

[cinewhore]

Til Death Do Us Part

Pairing: Dave York x fem!reader (Mr & Mrs Smith AU) Rating: General Warnings: none? Word Count: 620 A/N: first thing I wrote in like a year. So do what you will with that. Was inspired by the new amazon series, go watch if you haven't already!! Will there be more? Maybe. Maybe not. Enjoy! Credits to the gif makers.

Dave forgot just how much he loathed flying. 

Not that he was afraid of heights or anything, it was a simple matter of not being in control. Should anything go to shit, there was nothing he could really do to stop it. You’re more likely to die in a car accident compared to a plane but if he was required to take down an enemy on a flight and things got choppy? He was useless. Unless he learned how to fly a plane. Surely, that wouldn’t be expected of him, would it? He wasn’t entirely positive about that. 

Dave glances out of the window once more, admiring the cloudless sky. It looked like he felt, bare. 

He had survived the accident, the fall and decided that instead of putting the girls and Carol through all that hell, he remained dead. They would receive his pension, life insurance and be set for life. That was the one thing he was proud of outside of everything else. He didn’t want to hurt or kill Mac but that was the name of the game. Mac was once his friend. He realized that this life wasn’t for making friends, though. The lonelier, the better. 

A stewardess arrives in the main cabin, rolling out a small beverage cart. 

“Good evening! We are about to begin our descent so I wanted to grant any last minute refreshment requests.” 

Dave admired her pretty teeth for a second too long before answering. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

She nods and turns to her cart to grab a tiny silver platter. Placing it delicately on the table in front of him, she folds her gloved hands together. 

“Thank you for flying with us this evening, we hoped you enjoyed your trip. The plane will land at approximately 6:37 pm, Central European Standard Time. You will find a wardrobe through those doors,” she gestures towards the back of the plane. “The event is a black tie affair, so please dress accordingly. Welcome to Paris, Mr. Smith.” 

Oh. 

Right.

He wasn’t Dave York anymore, he was now John Smith. 

John opens the silver platter carefully only to find a folded paper underneath. His instructions were clear. 

Find Jane.

[pimosworld]

My name is Priscilla but you can call me P,Pimo,Miss Priss or any variation of your fav nickname for me. My blog is 18+, and I mostly write fluff and smut. I’ve made a lot of friends here and I’m open to write for anyone. This community has helped me heal in ways I can’t describe so I hope you enjoy my writing. 🤍

Please turn on notifications if you would like to stay up to date on my posts.

My ask box is always open

AO3

700 Follower Celebration

Read it again

Masterlist by pimo

I started out writing for Moon knight and that quickly evolved into other characters so I will say that I’m open to write for anyone.

I don’t have a lot of rules but I generally won’t describe my reader to stay inclusive as a poc and this is a safe space for the lgbtqi community so no ignorance will be tolerated.

Im open to requests (angst,fluff,smut…any character) but I work a full time job so please be patient with them as well as my wips.

Triple Frontier

Frankie Morales

Joel Miller

Santiago Garcia

Dave York

Moonknight

Javier Peña

Blue Jones

Miguel O’Hara

[psychedelic-ink]

— wonderful tonight.

pairing: frankie morales x fem!reader x dave york

genre: romance, smut, fluff

word count: 2.4k

summary: It's your birthday and Dave's running late, Frankie tries his best to distract you.

warnings: established poly relationship, oral (receiving) , mostly soft, mild daddy kink, nipple play, chaotic cooking

a/n: this is an early birthday gift to one of my favorite people @foli-vora happy birthday love! <33 I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote for you and thank you for all the amazing stories you put out. Sending you all the love and hugs 💖💖

also this was inspired by your post that's right here ✨

Your gaze lifts to the clock on the wall. The ticking of it makes you grind your teeth and prick at your skin. You’d begged Frankie to throw it out the day he bought it but he was set on keeping a regular clock above the wall just in case technology just decided to fail one day. It was a silly thought, but sadly he insisted, saying that the ticking of it made him feel nostalgic for a simpler time. There was no arguing with that so you just let it be. 

But now, as Frankie sauteed the onion, garlic and oregano for your birthday dinner, you can’t help but feel a tad disappointed. Dave’s late. Again. Probably held up due to boring paperwork that they made him file. Supposedly, their gift to you was supposed to be a day spent together. And just like you couldn’t argue about the damn clock, there was no arguing with Dave, no matter how much you begged him to stay. 

Another sigh parts from your lips, Frankie’s shoulders rise at the sound, his shirt dipping between his shoulder blades. After stirring one last time, he adds the tomato paste, the sizzle of it filling the open kitchen. 

“He’ll be here,” he emphasizes. “And he did say he would be free tomorrow, so we’ll be spending the entire day together,” 

“I guess…” 

“Cariño,” he murmurs, a hint of mischief laced in his tone. “If you continue pouting like that I’m going to think you would rather have him then me,” 

“What–No!” panic fills your voice as you stand up to your feet. “That’s not what I meant, I just…we never get much of a chance to spend time with just the three of us. I would be acting just as much of a brat if he was here an you weren’t,” 

He hums, hand reaching out for the shrimp stock. Steam rises as soon as liquid hits the saucepan, the gentle smoke dancing up and dissipating right after. Your stomach growls at the scent, mouth watering, you absolutely love it when Frankie’s in front of the stove. He is the best cook out of all three of you. 

“That’s good to hear. You don’t need to worry about being a brat though, I kinda like it,” 

His back is turned, but you can swear you see him grinning like an idiot. Your heart flutters, not being able to control your wide smile, you snake your hands around his thick waist, hands settling above his soft stomach as you peer from his side to see the saucepan. He’s firm against you, the smell of the food inhabits your nostrils but despite it, his scent reaches you. Sandalwood, with a hint of mint. It’s in the background yet it feels like a hug, it feels like home. 

“What were you making again?” you murmur into his shoulder, sneakily inhaling more of him. 

“Shrimp chupe. I think you’re going to like it but it’s been a while since I last made it so I’m a bit rusty,” 

“Well, if it fails, you know how to make it up to me,” 

“Do I, now?” 

“Don’t you?” 

“I think I might have an idea,” 

Much to your surprise, Frankie turns the heat to medium low and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His thumb lazily slides down the phone with an equally lazy smirk. You smile despite your disappointment gnawing at your heart, maybe he really didn’t have an idea what you were hinting at. And here you thought you were being crystal clear about your intentions– 

Suddenly the kitchen fills with the soft tunes of an acoustic guitar, soon accompanied by the rich baritone of Eric Clampton’s voice. Frankie places the phone on the counter and turns to you, his one hand extending forward. Staring at him awkwardly, your gaze shifts between his hand and eyes, they glint with amusement. 

“Dance with me?” 

“H-Here?” 

Frankie chuckles, his eyebrows drawn together, he softly takes your hand and pulls you flush against his chest. Every nerve of your body is electrified at the warmth he provides, your eyes are glued to the exposed skin of his neck, a sudden feeling of embarrassment clinging to you like a bad rash. Despite nearly doing almost everything with these two men, soft gestures like this still make your knees quiver. The music envelopes the both of you, Frankie’s hands softly finding your waist as he starts to gently sway from side to side. You follow his movements carefully, albeit a bit clumsily. It’s been a while. 

With the song in the background, you press the side of your face into his chest. Frankie’s lips find the top of your head, molding soft kisses into your scalp. A beautiful orange hue fills the kitchen, alerting you both that the sun was setting, the day slowly coming to a close. But in that moment you feel frozen in time. The only thing moving forward being yours and Frankie’s hips. His strong hands slide down your waist and grab your ass, your chuckle breaks the silence. You tear your face away from him, your eyes meeting his in a heated gaze. 

“Frankie Morales,” you feign a tone of offense. “And here I thought we were having a moment of romance,” 

“We are, mi vida,” he mutters, pupils dilated. A gasp falls from your lips when he squeezes, heart dropping as arousal gathers between your legs. “See how gentle my fingers are, this is romance,” 

“Hmm, we might be watching different types of romantic movies,” 

“I should show you my collection sometime,” 

“You should,” 

Frankie closes the distance, while his lips melt into yours, he pulls your body even closer, if possible, fingers digging into your flesh. Just like your bodies, your tongues dance with each other, slowly tasting, exploring. Your pulse accelerates, ears ringing loudly with every fast beating of your heart. His mouth slides down to your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses across your burning skin. 

“I want you to lay down,” he whispers into your flesh, tongue tasting the salt of your skin. “Will you do that for me?” 

Without a nod or a word of affirmation, you lay down on your back. The kitchen tiles cool against your sizzling body. Frankie quickly towers over you, his fingers dipping under the waistband of your pants and tugging them down. His hand reaches between your legs, fingers feeling the wetness that’s gathered across the fabric of your underwear. His lips twist into a sly smile, clearly pleased by himself. The cheeky bastard. 

“Been thinking about this?” 

“Maybe…” 

He hums, licking his lips, “I should reward you for your honesty, such a good girl for me,”

The drop of his voice makes you keen, his fingers presses further into you, the heel of his palm ghosting over your clit. Your legs spread without prompt, hips raising ever so slightly off of the marble. 

Goosebumps rouse across your skin when he finally removes the final barrier of cloth between the two of you, his lips immediately chasing the taste of your heat. Frankie’s mouth smoothes over your folds, tongue dipping playfully between them. Back arching, you reach out and tug him closer, his damp curls wetting between your fingers. Slick rushes between your legs, your mind in a daze, he flattens his tongue and laps at everything you have to offer. His mouth is moving along your cunt in the slowest way possible, coaxing a series of moans from you. Warmth blossoms across your skin and the song fades into the background. Frankie’s mouth always felt good, but now, it feels like it might just as well cause you a heart attack. He drags the tip of his tongue to your clit, flicking the sensitive bundle of nerves and groaning at the way your hips roll into his mouth. 

Neither of you hear the silent footsteps of a tired, yet intrigued, man approaching, both of you lost in eachother’s bodies. 

“And here I thought you two would miss me,” 

You flinch at the voice of Dave, a hint of amusement weaved into his every word. Frankie draws a circle around your clit, you hope to be quiet but you can’t help the way your breath hitches, a combination of Frankie’s and Dave’s name parting from your lips. 

Frankie’s gaze flickers up to Dave, slightly annoyed. 

“Why do you think I have her laying on the floor like this?” he asks with no intention of receiving an answer. Then he adds, mouth filled with the essence of you. “You really need to get you schedule under control,” 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. No need to remind me,” 

Dave quickly sits down near you and pulls your head on to his lap. A whine escapes you when his thumb ghosts over your bottom lip, pressing into it gently. Frankie steers his attention back to your heat, sucking and slurping with his own groan accompanying the sounds, two fingers circle around your entrance. 

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Dave mutters, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips. Wide eyed, you tentatively lick the tip. “Has Frankie been taking good care of you?” 

Just as you nod, your body jolts with a heavy wave of pleasure washing over you. The back of your head digs into Dave’s lap, eyes shut tightly, you cry out. Frankie’s fingers spread you wide, knuckle deep, as his tongue continues to work your clit. Dave pulls back his thumb and smears the wetness of it across your lips, his chest trembles with a soft laughter. 

“I think that’s a yes,” 

Frankie groans, eyes flickering up to him once again. His lips curl with a smug smile. Dave hums, his gaze moving back to you with an apologetic, yet lustful, look. 

“Can I join the fun?” 

Unlike Frankie, Dave was usually eager with his touches, his neediness seeping into his every movement. But today, today he also moves slow. He apologizes with his hands, fingers, mouth. Your neck strained as he forces your face up, claiming your lips in an upside down kiss while his hands travel down your body and lifts your shirt up. A growl emits from his chest upon seeing that you weren’t wearing a bra. He cups both of them, fingers pinching hard enough to send a shrill sense of pleasure down your spine. Meanwhile Frankie’s tongue worked wonders, his fingers thrusting in and out of your sopping core. Eyes rolling back, you moan openly into Dave’s mouth, cunt clenching at the way he grins down at you. 

“Is daddy making you feel good, princess?” 

Between heavy lashes and a tearful gaze, you nod. You’re burning from the inside out, Dave’s hands are merciless, playing with you like an expert musician. He knows all the strings to pull to bring you dangerously close to the edge. Rolling your nips between his fingers, he groans in delight at the way you squirm, your hips raising to meet the thrust of Frankie’s fingers. You can feel the ghost of Dave’s cock pressing against your upper back, just the thought of it makes your thighs clench around Frankie’s head. 

“I-I wanna–” 

“You want what baby?” Dave purrs. “You gotta tell us, isn’t that right Frankie?” 

Frankie parts from you momentarily, enough to breathe out a sentence conveying nothing other than great annoyance. 

“Deja ser un idiota con ella,” 

Dave shoots a glare, “Seems like I’m going to need to patch things up with daddy number two later,” then he turns down to you, his glare shifting into a gaze full of adoration. “Do you want to cum darling? Is that what you want?” 

“P-Please,” you plead, eyes traveling down. Frankie is already looking up to you, his eyes soft like honey. Your breath hitches. “Frankie,” 

He winks at you and you can swear in that moment, your soul left your body. His mouth opens wider, tongue pressing against your clit enthusiastically as his fingers move with precision. Your stomach contorts with pleasure, breathing uneven and fast. Desperation rises inside of you and you reach out to Dave, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. It’s been a while since the song was over, only wet sounds fill the kitchen now, stirring you even further. 

Spikes of arousal tingle up your spine, it builds and builds, Dave licks the inside of your mouth, Frankie licks between your aching folds with his fingers buried inside of you. Your whole world is spinning, nothing but your desire to cum screaming at you– 

Then everything shatters. 

You pull away, gasping for air as your body jerks uncontrollably. The corners of your vision blur, tears filling them thanks to the sensory overload. Frankie digs his fingers deeper, tongue swirling around the throbbing bud of nerves. Dave’s lush lips find your temple, shushing into your sweat coated skin. Heaving, you claw at Dave’s back, hips desperately trying to pull away from Frankie’s devilish tongue. He allows you after giving your clit one last, parting suck. 

“Fuck, mi corazon, that was amazing,” he pants heavily and slides up your body, laying his head between your breasts. “How are you?” 

Dave’s fingers playfully start to tweak at Frankie’s damp curls, nails gently scratching his nape. He purrs at the other man’s touch, a tired smile spreading across his lips. The gesture’s contagious, the sight of them being so domestic with one another has you grinning like a fool, heart swelling twice as big. 

“That was amazing,” 

“So…no one’s mad at me then?” 

You laugh, the melody of your joy echoing between them. 

“I didn’t say that, you are awfully late,” 

“Sorry,” he mutters, pressing his lips into the back of your head. “I couldn’t get rid of it but I’m here now, so happy birthday,” 

“Happy birthday,” Frankie chimes in as well, nuzzling your breast. 

There's a moment of serenity between the three of you, you smile as the endorphins of pleasure swirl around your mind, a pleasurable tingle vibrating across your skin. However, this doesn’t last long when Frankie suddenly jumps up, running to the stove. 

“Shit– I forgot the chupe!” 

“The what?” Dave asks, quite alert after seeing Frankie bolt.  

You giggle, taking Dave’s arms, you wrap them around you like a blanket. He tears his gaze away from the chaos in the kitchen and hugs you tighter, you call out to Frankie.

“Well, at least you know how to make it up to me.” 

[pedrito-friskito]

burnt honey - dave york x fem!reader

summary: a solo mission goes wrong and dave comes to your rescue.

warnings: mentions of kidnapping/torture, violence, guns, swearing, unprotected p-in-v, dom!dave (ish), choking, fingering

a/n: dedicated to my sweet @pedropascalsx cuz it’s HER BIRTHDAY and I’ve been promising her dave york for forever now so HERE YOU ARE MY SWEET I HOPE YOU ENJOY ♥️

| main masterlist | ao3 |

You’ve been here a while. In all honesty, you’ve lost track of the time. The days. That’s probably part of the point, you’re sure, but it’s started to get to you, starting to creep into your brain. The doubt eats your stomach for breakfast, haunting words echoing through your ears.

He’s not coming. No one is coming.

They’d allowed you one phone call. It was out of pity, you knew, your target too self-obsessed and arrogant, thinking that whoever you called wouldn’t have the means to come for you, to rescue you from the hell you’ve found yourself in.

But they don’t know Dave York.

There was confusion in his tone when he first answered the call, professional greeting rolling off his tongue. “This is York.”

“I’m planning a trip upstate,” you had said slowly, enunciating the words around your swollen lip. “But I don’t know what to pack.”

Silence. It was an old code. I’m planning a trip upstate meant, I’ve been captured. I don’t know what to pack equaled, I don’t know where I am.

And then Dave’s voice, edged with an anger you knew he’d reserve for your captors. “What’s the weather like?”

What info can you give me?

“Sky’s pretty blue.”

The line went dead, and you could only hope to god he knew what you meant.

You’ve known Dave for years. You met your first day training for the CIA, stuck in the same class and when he took the seat next to yours, you were instantly enamoured. There was something magnetic about him, his intellect and quick-thinking drawing you in. And you balanced him out, tech-savvy where he was street-smart, cautious where he was impulsive. You made the perfect pair. Which made you the perfect partners.

You were teamed up for years, pulling one of the highest take-down rates the CIA had seen in ages. You were ruthless, rooting out bad guys left, right, and centre, and you were good at it.

And if you and Dave fell into bed with each other on lonely nights, shoved closer by hotel rooms with only one bed or missions that called for pretending to be Mr. and Mrs. York, well, whatever happened in Vegas (or Chicago or Lisbon or Edinburgh or…) stayed there.

Time and circumstance pulled the two of you apart. Dave got a promotion that took him to Washington, you found other work outside of the agency, and that was that. The last you heard he was engaged, and you’d stuffed down your bitterness long enough to send him a quick congratulations text.

But before you’d parted officially, Dave had given you a gift. A small sky-blue pendant, a stone shaped like a teardrop on a silver chain. A goodbye present, of sorts, and you’d worn the thing for a few years before you realized there was a small piece of metal lodged in the stone. A tracking device, remote access only.

You’re tracking me? you’d texted him immediately, foregoing a greeting and more concerned with an answer.

Only if you need me, was his reply. Someone’s gotta keep you safe.

You hadn’t pried any further and carried on with your life, without him in it. But, you still wore the necklace like a lifeline, your neck feeling bare and vulnerable without it.

And your captors hadn’t noticed it, obviously didn’t know what it was to think to take it from you.

Sky’s pretty blue.

It was a stretch, maybe, but coupled with the rest of your code, if anyone could figure it out, Dave York could.

They’ve been keeping you in some kind of cell. The whole place looks like a bad action movie, the kind where they kidnap the president’s daughter and hold her hostage or something stupid like that. Your meals are hunks of bread and cups of bland…tea? You’re not totally sure, but whatever it is beats dying of dehydration. You’ve been canvassing what you can, trying to find a weak point or an exit strategy, but so far you’ve come up with nothing.

It’s been nearly four days now, since you called Dave. At least, you think it’s been four days. You’ve counted four sunrises, slept for four long stretches that might have been overnight. Your captors have barely made a move, interrogating you twice since you called him. They don’t seem very smart, because they keep asking you who you called, demanding to know what you meant by what you said. You throw back smart-ass responses, dodging questions like an obstacle course, and taking every slap they gave you in return.

You curl up on the sorry excuse for a mattress that night, pressed into the corner of your cell as tightly as you can. There’s a small window along the wall, high up, and you can see the sky change from grey to orange, orange to dark blue, dark blue to midnight black. Your eyes drop shut at some point, body aching from the abuse, and you pray to whatever god is listening that Dave is coming.

+

You wake to the sound of gunfire. Rapid and echoing, yanking you out of sleep and sending your senses into overdrive. You slink deeper into the corner of the cell, making yourself as small as possible, pressing yourself to the wall as the flashing explodes through the room before you. There’s the impact of bodies hitting the floor, bullets ricocheting off the brick walls, and then someone shouting your name.

Dave.

He appears on the other side of the cell bars a moment later, dressed head to toe in back, assault rifle in his hands, black beanie jammed on his head. He hasn’t aged a day, looking exactly like you remember him, your partner with that devil-may-care smile and those warm, dark eyes nailing you in place.

You breathe out his name as he starts to pull at the lock on the cell, reaching through the bars and grabbing his shoulder. “You came.”

“Of course I came, honey,” he says, pulling the lock free and tossing it to the floor. He’d gotten in the habit of calling you that back in the early days, and it had stuck despite your protests. Hearing it now makes you feel like you could topple over, but he doesn’t give you the chance. As soon as the cell door is open, Dave pulls you into his arms, crushing you to his chest for a moment before pulling back, taking your sore face in his hands gently. “Are you okay? You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” you sputter, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” You shake your head, tears welling in your eyes and he pulls you close once more. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

Dave stands there a moment, holding you and rocking you gently, one hand cradling the back of your head, other arm wrapped around your waist. “It’s okay. I got you, honey. I’m right here. Let’s get you somewhere safe, all right?”

It all happens in a blur. He’s leading you through the building, keeping you tucked behind his shoulder, gun brandished in front of him. The bodies of your captors are everywhere, bloodied and sprawled on the floor, bullet casings spilled across the ground.

You nearly topple over once you hit fresh air, sucking down breaths as fast as your body will allow. You double over, hands braced on your knees, and Dave slides his hand across your back, rubbing circles. “We have to go,” he murmurs. “Can’t stop till it’s safe.”

Blearily, you straighten, taking his offered hand and following him away from the building. It’s still dark, the moon hanging high in the sky, and when you reach the dark SUV parked nearly six blocks from where you were being held, it’s all you can do not to collapse against the leather seats. Dave pulls a blanket out of the trunk, wraps it around your shoulders, and holds you for a moment, shucking his gloves off to tangle a hand in the back of your hair. You don’t know when you start crying, but once the tears start, it’s hard to stop. Dave just holds you, longer than he had in the cell, lips at your temple. 

“It’s okay, honey,” he says softly. “It’s okay.”

He loads you into the back of the SUV, the leather seats absolute heaven against your skin, and you’re asleep as soon as the car starts moving. You honestly don’t know where he’s taking you, but you don’t care, content to lie here as long as possible, to let your body recover from everything that’s happened. Sleep welcomes you with open arms, dreamless and promising, and you fall into it gladly.

+

The bed you wake in is soft. Much softer than the backseat of the SUV you’d fallen asleep in, a million times softer than the cot you’d been sleeping on in the cell. It feels like a marshmallow, far too many pillows fanned around your head, duvet and fleece blankets covering your body. Everything is soft and soothing and nice, a stark contrast to what you’ve endured.

It takes a moment to get your bearings, to realize you’re in a bedroom, the curtains tightly drawn, sunlight spilling out the corners. There’s a soft light on the table beside the bed, a glass of water and a bottle of advil along with it, and slowly, you sit up, reaching for both, tossing a few tablets back and swallowing half the glass. Once your eyes adjust, you take in the bedroom you’re in. The closet is filled with collared shirts and hung dress pants, a rack of ties hanging from the doorknob. There’s a desk in the corner with a pile of books and an open laptop, the chair pulled out and holding a duffle bag that has clothes spilling out of it. There’s a TV mounted on the wall across from the bed, a dresser underneath it.

Is this…Dave’s house? He brought you home? Let’s get you somewhere safe, he’d said. You couldn’t help but agree that that meant somewhere with him. You also couldn’t help but think his fiancé — wife? — wouldn’t be too thrilled with the half-naked, injured woman in their bed.

The door creaks open, breaking you from your investigative reverie, and you set the water back down on the table, rubbing more sleep from your eyes as Dave sticks his head in the doorway. “Oh,” he says softly, barely above a whisper. “You’re awake.”

“Just barely,” you answer, giving him a small smile. “Thank you, for the water.”

“Did you take an advil?”

“Two.”

He lets the door open a little further, stepping forward and leaning against the door jamb. “Good. How do you feel?”

You rub a hand over the back of your neck, pressing on your sore muscles. “Like shit.”

“Well, you look better than you did,” he says, offering a small smile that matches yours. He steps fully into the room then, coming to sit at the edge of the bed, towards your feet. “You slept eighteen hours; obviously you needed it.” Slowly, he reaches out a hand, letting it fall onto the duvet, palm landing on your shin. “I’m really glad you’re okay, honey.”

Your heart aches at the nickname, rousing memories from long ago, back when the two of you were still partners, and…whatever else you were.

“Thank you,” you say after a moment, “for saving me.”

His hand curls around your leg over the duvet, his grip grounding you in a way. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yes, I do,” you continue, reaching a hand out and resting it on his forearm. He drops his gaze from your face, watches your fingers move against his skin. “And apologize to your wife for me, will you? I’m sure the last thing she was expecting was your ex-partner dead asleep in her bed.”

His brow furrows. “Wife?”

You blink. Huh? “You were engaged, weren’t you? Or married. I know I heard you were engaged. That was the last time we talked, wasn’t it?”

Dave’s eyes flick up to your face and then away, glancing towards his closet. “Oh. Yeah, that…ended. She called it off.”

“Oh shit,” you murmur, eyes dropping into your lap, pulling your hand away and folding your hands together. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

He moves closer to you suddenly, hand moving along your leg, the duvet still keeping you apart. Your face is still aching, but there’s a new ache blooming in your body, heat rising between your legs as he closes the distance between you, finally moving his hand and planting it beside your hip and leaning over you. “Don’t be sorry, honey,” he says, his voice barely audible. He’s close enough now that you can feel his breath on your face, his lips gently parting. “I wouldn’t be able to do this if it hadn’t happened how it did.”

Your own mouth opens slightly, tongue pressed against the back of your teeth, resisting the urge to lean forward and cover his mouth with your own. This isn’t the first time it’s happened like this. When you were still partners, there was a close-call, an op gone wrong, and you’d been caught in the crossfire. Dave had refused to leave your bedside, and once you were well, he’d kissed you so hard you saw stars.

His free hand curls around your jaw as he leans in, fingers careful around the bruises on your face, and he kisses you slowly at first, but it picks up faster than you can comprehend. He sucks at your bottom lip, tongue licking into your mouth as his hand moves onto your hip and curls tight around your flesh. You return the kiss as enthusiastically as you can, your breath hitching with every bit of attention.

“Is this,” he breathes into your mouth, lips moving down to your jaw and neck, “okay? Please tell me this is okay.”

You tilt your head to give him better access. “Yes.”

“That’s my girl,” Dave rasps, “my sweet honey.”

The praise makes everything in you clench, and you sigh into him as he pulls at the blanket, revealing your mostly-bare body. He must have taken your dirtied clothes, because you’re dressed in a t-shirt that must belong to him and a pair of boxers. He wastes no time, pulling at the fabric until the elastic slides over your hips and down past your ass. You adjust yourself on the bed, sinking back into the pillows, and Dave climbs onto the bed with you completely, pushing your legs wide and making a home between them.

“How do you want it, honey?” he asks, leaning over you again, hands planted either side of your head, leaning down to lick a stripe along your throat, your heartbeat rioting against his tongue. “I don’t wanna be too rough with you. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, missed your body.” He snakes a hand between you, finding your clit with practiced accuracy. Your body jolts up into his and he smirks. “Missed this pussy.”

“Dave.”

“It’s still mine, isn’t it?” he croons, teeth scraping your jaw. “Even after all these years, you still belong to me.” He rolls your clit between his fingers, almost pinching, and your back arches, chasing the pleasure that’s starting to build. “I asked you a question, honey.”

“Fuck,” you bite out, head pressed hard against the pillows. “I’m yours.”

Dave rips his hand away from your clit, and then his fingers are around your throat, pressing just enough. He still remembers, still knows what you like, can still play you like a fucking fiddle. “How. Do. You. Want. It.”

“Rough,” you breath, lifting your hips against his. You can feel how hard he is, straining against his sweat pants, and it only makes you hotter. “Please, fuck, I need to feel you.”

Something in his face softens, something that reminds you of the old days, of the gentle side of him you only saw occasionally, when things got real. “You tell me, if it’s too much, you understand?”

You nod, and it’s like that snaps what little restraint he has left. In a flash, he’s hiking the hem of his t-shirt over your chest, exposing your bare breasts, and burying his face in them, closing his lips around one nipple and pinching the other between his knuckles. You’re writhing beneath him, the pleasure such a stark contrast to the pain you’ve become used to that your body is dripping, sweat pouring off you and wetness pooling between your thighs.

Dave lets his teeth scrape against your nipple and you cry out, one hand diving into his hair, keeping him against your chest. His eyes flick up to yours, big and brown and bottomless, and as he stares back at you, his hand moves south once more, the pads of his fingers ghosting across your skin. He makes a detour at his own mouth, coating his index and middle digits in saliva before he’s bringing them between your legs. He drags them along your slit, your slick and his spit easing the way, and he still doesn’t look away as he plunges deep into you, crooking his knuckles just right and finding that rough patch in one fell swoop, making fireworks explode behind your eyelids, every part of your body going white-hot for a moment that seems to last forever.

“Gotta make you cum first, honey,” he drawls against your breath, tongue laving at your nipple. “Gotta make you cum so you can take this big fucking cock, huh?” You whimper and he smiles, dropping a kiss to the curve of your breast before he’s moving up again, kissing your mouth and shoving his tongue down your throat. His free hand curls around your neck a moment later, and you can’t stop your moan, muffled by his mouth. “God, you’re so fucking pretty like this, honey. You gonna cum for me?” he asks, and you keen upwards, hips chasing his fingers as he thrusts them, dragging along every single one of your nerves with each pass. You nod frantically, both hands curled around his wrist. 

He tightens his grip on your throat just slightly, not enough to cut off your air but just enough to make you clench. He must feel it, because he looks down at where he’s breaching you, his fingers disappearing into your pussy, glistening in the low light when he drags them out. You whine, the noise sinking into a whimper when he gives you a hard kiss, teeth pulling at your bottom lip.

“C’mon, honey,” he murmurs to you, peppering your face with kisses, fingers thrusting harder. “Cum for me. I want to see it, I want to feel it.”

One final thrust and you’re gone, body convulsing on his sheets, simultaneously sucking him deeper into you and seizing with the intrusion. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and you’re blind with pleasure, limbs taut and then loose, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the orgasm rips through you like lightning.

“Good girl, honey.” Once your breathing starts to return to normal, he drags his fingers from you, shoving them between his lips instantly, groaning at the taste. “So fucking sweet.”

Immediately, you’re reaching for his hips, desperate to rid him of his pants and pull his cock free. You need to feel it, need to feel him inside you, now. He’s hard as a rock, cock springing towards his belly as he sits up and yanks his sweats off. Before he can move, you’re clambering into his lap, grinding your hips into his and dragging your wet heat along his length.

“Yeah?” he almost taunts, one hand fisting in your hair, pulling your head back roughly so he can tongue at your throat again. “You want that big cock, don’t you, honey?”

You nod furiously. “I want it so bad.”

“Then take it.”

You curl your fingers around the base of him, feeling him pulse against your grip as you line him up, tip notching at you entrance before you start to sink down. You’re slow at first, wanting to savour it, but Dave doesn’t let you, slamming your hips down on his hard, hips canting up into yours. It makes stars burst behind your eyes, your still sensitive clit rubbing against his pelvis.

“C’mon,” he growls into your ear, tugging your hair again, biting at your earlobe. “I said, take it.”

You choke out a moan, and start to move your hips as hard as you can, knees bouncing against the mattress, your arms wrapped around his neck. He pants in your ear, teeth scraping your neck, and you just keep moving, whimpering as that coil starts to tighten again already, on the verge of snapping when Dave starts to meet each of your thrusts, planting his feet on the floor and slamming you down onto his cock with every upward lift of his hips.

“Never should have left you,” he grunts, face now buried in your collar. “Should have stayed with you. Should have made you mine forever.”

You’re at a loss for words, gasping his name as he presses a hand to the small of your back, your hips grinding as deep as possible. He coaxes you through it, more whispered praises and soft murmurs of that’s my girl, honey, take it, god, honey you feel so good.

Honey, honey, honey.

It sounds so good on his lips.

You kiss him as you cum, tangling your tongue with his as your limbs turn to static, clenching hard around his cock as the second orgasm overtakes you. It’s enough, because he cums a moment later, spilling deep, a stuttered groan echoing through the room.

You stay there a while, sprawled on his lap, chests heaving and hearts ricocheting against each other. Dave kisses you softly, the intensity giving way to something softer. You melt into him, holding him as close as possible. “Oh, honey,” he whispers, hands trailing up your back to your shoulders, keeping you close. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

—————

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[supernaturalgirl20]

The Escape

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), shower sex, mention of injuries, mentions of killing, cursing.

Summary: Since your first meeting, Dave York hasn’t left your mind. What happens when he shows up weeks later on your doorstep bloody and bruised?

A/N: part of the amazing story created by Naomi @scorpio-marionette. Choose your own ending 🥰

Read the First part

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated 🥰

It’s been weeks since you were called to help out after the hurricane, and his gaze is seared into your memory. His dark eyes bore into you that day as he was brought away in cuffs. His intense stare sent a shiver through you. It still does. You had a sinking feeling that day - he either wanted to fuck you or kill you. Question is, which one?

Mixing batter for your pancakes a loud knock at your back door startles you. Who the hell is that? You think as you slowly approach - hand reaching out towards the handle. A little weary, you grab a rolling pin from the top drawer before slowly opening the door. A gasp escapes your lips as you take in the dishevelled figure in front of you. “Mr York? What are..”

He pushes past you quickly, closing and locking the door behind him. You take this moment to look him over and you notice that some of his wounds haven’t healed. Or are those fresh! He winches a little as he clutches his side and you move towards him - arms coming around him to help him over to a chair. “Mr York, what are you doing here? How did you know where I lived?”

“It’s Dave,” he grunts as he settles on the chair, his eyes glazed over in pain. Once you know he isn’t going to keel over, you quickly grab the medical supplies you have in the bathroom. His hand is clutching his side when you reappear and he hisses. Dropping everything on the table you make quick work of taking off his top - revealing bruises along his chest and stomach - a deep cut down his side. “I can do it,” he barks out harshly as he tries to take the alcohol from you.

Swatting his hand away you kneel before him - his eyes following you as you place your hand gently on his thigh for support. He swallows loudly and he stares at you with that same intense look from before. “Stop being stubborn. I’m a trained medical professional, I’ve got it. Now, this is gonna sting,” you say as you dab a cloth drenched in alcohol on his wound.

You can feel his gaze on you the entire time and your heart begins to beat erratically. The position you're in, combined with the heat radiating off him - you feel an ache between your thighs. “Aren’t you going to ask?”

Your eyes drift up to his face and you notice a slight golden fleck in his eyes. Fuck he’s handsome. “It’s none of my business.” The corners of his mouth lift slowly as his eyes roam your figure. “You never answered my question though. How did you know where I lived?”

“I have contacts.” He says nothing else and you know not to press for more. “All done. You're lucky, any deeper and you would have needed stitches. If you're able, you need to wash up. I can help you to the shower.” He nods and you help him up and once you’ve set up the shower and given him some sweats and a T-shirt, you head back downstairs to finish breakfast.

As you stand at the stove - the bacon sizzling - you can’t help but let your thoughts wander to him in your shower. Naked. The water, dripping down his broad shoulders. I bet he has a firm ass.

No stop. He has a wedding ring. Shaking your head of those thoughts you start plating up when you feel his presence behind you. “Smells amazing.”

Turning your head slightly, you find him literally right behind you. If he turned right now your lips would be practically touching. His hair is damp and he smells good, fresh - he smells like your apple body wash. You notice he looks tired, the bags under his eyes more prominent now. “Take a seat. I’ll finish dishing up and bring it over. Oh and I’ve left a glass of water with painkillers on the counter. Take them.”

***

Dave is asleep now - occupying the guest room - as you sit and chill for the evening. You don’t know how you feel about today. A little scared at how he found out certain things about you. Flicking through the channels you spot a familiar face in the news. Is that Dave?

Dangerous criminal escapes and kills three guards. He is considered dangerous and if you see him please contact 911 immediately.

He’s escaped! Killed…

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” A deep voice startles you from the doorway and you turn to find Dave standing in it. A worrisome feeling settles in the pit of your stomach and you begin to panic as he begins to slowly move forward.

“Is it…is it true? Did you escape and kill those guards?” A deep sigh passes his lips as he squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Yes! It’s true, but I’m not a criminal.” You stand and quickly put distance between you both but he doesn’t move to catch you.

“Then what are you? A serial killer?” Why is this making him even more attractive? “I’ve killed a lot, it’s my job. Me and my team, we were given targets from the government and we eliminated them. Then I decided to freelance. They didn’t appreciate that so they sent my old team leader after me. He killed all the guys and seriously injured me. Would have killed me too only for you. That’s when we first met.”

“You killed for the government?” A smirk plays across his face. “Governments are worse than criminals, they just don’t like to get their hands dirty.” You both stand there - silence filling the room - as you try to sort through your thoughts. “What are you planning on doing?”

“You’re not going to call the cops?” With a shrug of your shoulders you move closer to him. “Would you let me?” His smile widens as he starts moving towards you - stopping once he’s standing right in front of you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I’ve a feeling there’s a but, in that.” His eyes roam your face before settling on your lips and you swear he’s leaning in when you're both startled by the doorbell ringing. “Don’t answer it.” Dave says firmly as he grabs your arm tight. The bell rings again and again and your eyes are drifting between it and Dave.

“I have to. It’s probably just Mrs Walsh from next door, she’s always checking on me.” His gaze is focused on you, but you can tell he’s analysing the situation in his head. With one last squeeze of your arm he releases you, “get rid of them, whoever it is.” Then he disappears from view.

The bell rings for a fourth time when you open it slowly. “Hello Ms Y/N, we’re with the telephone company, we’d like to talk to you about our new offers.” You hear the words coming from their mouth but you're focused more on the way they keep trying to look inside your home. “Oh, thank you but I’m ok. I don’t actually have a phone, just my mobile.”

One of the men pushes forward a little, his foot in the doorway blocking you from closing it on them. His eyes roam your house - what he can see anyway. You have a bad feeling. “Perhaps we can come inside and discuss it with you?” Panic sets in now and you try to close the door, “no thank you, I’m ok.”

Suddenly they push past you - almost knocking you to the ground - when you see movement from the corner of your eye. Dave appears, gun in hand as he shoots one of the men. The other moves to grab you, shielding himself from Dave. “Dave, give up. We’ve found you - it wasn’t that hard really - so just put down the gun and I won’t kill this pretty little thing.”

Your heart is beating wildly within your chest and you can feel yourself begin to shake in fear. I’m going to die, you think to yourself, as both men square off. Dave's gaze is cold, his face unemotional as he stands there, gun in hand. His eyes flicker towards you briefly before they land back in the man behind you. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

You can feel the rumble of a laugh from behind you as his grip tightens. “Oh she has everything to do with this. You like her, which means she's valuable. So if you think I’m letting her go, think again.” A growl escapes Dave’s lips as he lunges forward. Everything happens so quickly but the sound of gunfire echoes across the room, terrifying you.

An arm wraps around you pulling you into a firm chest and you take a quick glance to find Dave looking down at you. Tears fall down your cheeks and he just holds you tighter. “It’s ok. I’ve got you.” Dave looks around the room and then he can hear the faint sound of sirens approaching. “We need to leave. Grab a small bag with some stuff, but be quick.”

He pulls away from you and begins grabbing food from the kitchen. You just stood there in shock until he shouted. “Y/N, you need to pack your shit, now.” Breaking from your daze you run upstairs and grab a back, throwing some essentials into it before rushing back down. Dave is waiting and when he sees you, he grabs you roughly and drags you towards your car.

“We need to get out of here, out of the city. Fuck!” He shouts and you jump. “I…I have a cabin, it’s..well it was my dads, we used to go there every summer. It’s up in the mountains, there’s no one around for miles.” Dave just stares at you before nodding his head. “We’ll go there. Now drive.”

***

You're not sure how much time has passed but it’s dark out as you drive out of the city and towards the cabin. The lights from houses fading in the distance. “Thank you.” Your gaze drifts to Dave, his head facing the window but you can see him looking at you through the glass. “It’s ok.”

Turning his head towards you now, you can see the sincerity in his eyes. “You didn’t have to help. I’m sorry I’ve dragged you into this. I shouldn’t have come.” You focus on the road again but keep glancing over to him. “Why did you? Come to me, I mean.” He releases a deep sigh as he slumps further into his seat. “I had no one else.”

Your eyebrows knit in confusion, “what about your wife?” He turns his head away from you, “She thinks I’m dead. It needs to stay that way. How much further?”

“About another hour. You should try and sleep.” He doesn’t say anything after that but sometime later you hear soft snores emanating from him and you can’t help the small smile that spreads across your face. He looks so peaceful when he sleeps. It’s probably the only time he does, you think to yourself.

***

It’s still dark when you pull up outside your family cabin and Dave is still sleeping. You take a moment to take him in - the slightly dishevelled thick brown hair, his prominent nose, the fading bruises along his jaw. He truly is handsome. “It’s rude to stare.” You jump at the sound of his deep baritone voice and turn away quickly - a deep blush rising up your neck.

“We’re here,” you say as you open the door and walk around to the trunk. Dave emerges a few minutes after you, helping with carrying the bags. Once inside you work on lighting the stove while Dave stocks the fridge.

A little while later, you're both sitting on the couch - the fire blazing and a cup of tea in hand. It’s quiet, but not awkward. “I need to get a phone,” Dave says suddenly and you turn towards him. “A burner. I have a contact I need to reach out to.” After taking a sip of tea you place the cup in your lap, “I can go to the store later today. Get some more food.”

He nods his head before standing, “you should get some rest, it’s been a long night.” You push the blanket off you and stand, stretching a little before putting the cup in the sink. “What about you?”

“I slept in the car. Besides, I want to check the perimeter.” You both stand still, watching each other. His eyes flicker down over your body - lingering a little on the curve of your breast - before meeting your gaze. A tension has been building between you both and you can feel it about to snap. “I’ll wake you in a few hours,” he says before turning and leaving. You stood staring at the space he just occupied, an ache between your thighs. God I just want him to touch me.

***

The soft whisper of your name rouses you from sleep and you blink open your eyes to find Dave sitting on the bed beside you. “What time is it?” You say as you sit up, running the sleep from your eyes. “Past noon. The perimeter is clear, I’ve done a few laps around to make sure. I’ve made breakfast.”

“Thank you, I’m starving.” Dave stands and makes his way towards the kitchen area, leaving you to get dressed. Once you emerge, you find the table laid out with bacon, eggs and toast. Along with a fresh cup of coffee. A moan escapes your lips as you tuck into breakfast and Dave can feel his cock stir beneath his trousers. The image of you writhing beneath him in pleasure, making those beautiful sounds had his cock painfully hard.

Maybe you’ll let him fuck you before he leaves? Maybe you’ll wrap that pretty mouth around his cock and… “Dave, are you ok?” He’s startled from his thoughts and looks up at you. His face was blank. “I’m fine. When you're done I need you to get me that phone.”

***

Having driven to another town to get the phone - so none of the locals would recognise you - you returned back to the cabin to find Dave sitting on the porch. He stands when you approach and grabs the phone from you and makes his way inside - walking towards the bedroom before slamming the door behind him. Don’t say thanks, you think as you make a start on dinner.

Sometime later, Dave emerges from the room and breaks the phone up and tosses it in the fire. “Did you reach your contact?” You ask as you stir the sauce for the pasta. “Yeah, it’s all sorted.” He doesn’t say any more so you don’t ask. What you don’t know won’t hurt you.

You both eat in silence and once you're finished, Dave takes the plates and cleans up. “You should shower,” he says, his back turned to you. “The waters hot.” Without saying a word you grab your things and make your way into the bathroom. Turning the shower on, you stand staring at yourself in the mirror, letting the steam fill the room. What have I got myself into?

Running your hand down along your face you sigh before standing into the shower. The water is hot and as it cascades down your body, you feel the tension from the last few days deep out of you. Resting your head against the cool tiled wall you jump when you feel arms wrap around your waist. You're pulled back into a firm chest and you hear his voice whisper in your ear. “It’s ok, it’s just me.”

That ache builds again between your thighs and you can feel the hard length of him at your back. Is this actually happening? You turn in his arms and your eyes drift to the still red wound in his side. You trace it gently with your fingers and Dave's eyes close at the feel of you on him. “I’ve wanted you so bad since I saw you that first time. Can I have you?” His eyes are open now - brown eyes, now black pools of obsidian - staring at you, like he can see straight into your soul. You don’t speak. You can’t.

Nodding your head he wastes no time in crashing his lips to yours. The roughness of them sending a shiver through you. His tongue licks along your bottom lip, seeking entrance and once you let him in, he pushes you back against the wall. He moans into your mouth as his hands wander towards your ass, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh there.

Your hand moves between your bodies to grab his cock and you whine at the feel of him in your hands. Fuck he’s huge. As if he knows what you're thinking he pulls away and whispers into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you're ready for me.” He suddenly drops to his knees and lifts one of your legs over his shoulders, before he dives into your aching cunt.

He devours you. Licking and sucking and shoving his tongue inside you until you come undone above him. He lowers your leg as he kisses his way up your thighs and along your stomach until he reaches your lips. “Can I taste you?” You moan out but he shakes his head. “Later. I need to be inside you now.”

He lines up at your entrance and thrust up, sheathing himself deep inside you. You cry out as he fills you, your cunt stretching to accommodate his thick length. He stops for a minute to allow you to adjust, waiting for you to tell him to move. You grip his back and whisper for him to move. “Please Dave, fuck me.”

His lips find yours as he begins pounding into you, his hands gripping your waist tight. The sound of your moans echoes around the tiled walls and you can feel your orgasm building. “Oh fuck…Dave…I’m gonna…”

You grip his back, your nails digging into the skin there and he groans into your shoulder. “Come for me…like a good little girl…come all over my cock.”

“Oh god…oh fuck…” you cry out as you come, your cunt clenching tight around him. His grunts get louder as he nears his own release. “Where…where do you want me?”he begs as his fingers dig into your skin. “Inside..I’m on the pill..fill me up…claim me as yours.”

He thrusts twice more before filling you up, the movement of his hips slowing as he releases his spend inside you. Once you’ve both calmed, he helps you wash before carrying you into the room and laying you on the bed. You're both sopping wet but you can’t seem to care as he slowly sinks into you again.

The night passes by as you fuck again and again until you both drift into sleep. When you wake the room is empty and all traces of Dave York are gone from the cabin. Shuffling out into the sitting room, one of Dave's T-shirts thrown on, you find a letter on the table.

Y/N,

I’m not good with this kind of thing but I want to thank you for helping me. I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. I can’t stay - as much I want to - it isn’t safe. I’ve left a deposit in your bank account and have made sure you’ll be safe. Just lay low here for another two weeks, I’ve stocked enough food for you to last. Unfortunately, you can’t go back to your old life but I’ve left coordinates for you, it’s someplace safe. When the two weeks are up, make your way there and everything will be ready and waiting. Thank you again for everything, I’ll never forget you.

Dave

Your heart shatters a little, will you never see him again? You hoped you would. As long as he’s safe that’s all that matters. Wiping the start tears from your eyes, you make your way into the kitchen to make tea. A dull ache between your thighs reminds you of what happened last night and a smile spreads across your face. Even if you never see him again, at least you had last night; and it was everything.

Everything: @maievdenoir @amneris21 @hnt-escape @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @jediknight122 @ayrusss @hayley-the-comet @sherala007 @alexxavicry @scorpio-marionette @donnaa @practicalghost @tanzthompson @beskarprincessjenny @littlemisspascal @icanbeyourjedi @thatpinkshirt @maryfanson @sunnshineeexoxo @misspearly1 @misspearlssideblog @athalien @its--fandom--darling @sara-alonso @doommommy

Dave York: @vanemando15 @anaaaispunk @hb8301 @stevie75 @almaeunice @readsalot73

[chaoticgeminate]

Hide and Seek

Part of the Iridescence Fictional Universe Locked & Loaded Series

Dave York x Psychic f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3.4K

Series Summary: Dave York, retired military sniper and FBMI analyst, is tasked to join and co-lead a new field team with his psychic boss dedicated to combating the rising threat of undead threats in the outer rim of Se'Kvia. The team defies orders to find and eliminate the source of the threat and must run from their enemies and the agency to see their mission through. Warnings: Bad fight scenes, reader is a badass, Dave's team is awesome, someone has the feels

Revenants weren’t just able to show up wherever they damn well wanted, but the only person that you knew of in Se’Kvia who could even use any sort of Death magic didn’t even know how to put a spirit to rest since she had only just begun learning the proper use of her abilities. You couldn’t help but cast another look at your bandaged leg, even with three healing specialists looking at the injury it was not closing and would start to fester if you didn’t use the salve given to you by the doctors from the local hospital.

The absolute worst case scenario would be a scorching salve made with dragon’s blood, voluntarily donated of course, which would not only burn the wound closed but also destroy whatever was prevented coagulation.

Instead of going back you chose to stay at the bed and breakfast, acting as research and communication while the four men on your team worked to look for any evidence of a portal as well as return the restless spirits to the Ether where they belonged until the Consortium’s back up could make it here. Looking over the history of the town once more, not noticing anything too out of the ordinary, you started to dig into what caused it to get deserted by the residents.

Mentions of weird noises at night in people’s homes, pets going missing, and even a child going missing had led to the Council to evacuate the entire area but no reason behind any of it had been found. The homes weren’t built on an area that had been too badly ravaged by the Elder War, there hadn’t been any one event that happened before the reports began cropping up, so you were well and truly just stumped. No mass graveyards hidden under the streets, no major magical mishaps, and that was probably worse to learn than actually finding a possible cause.

“Ma’am? There’s someone here to see you.” Ethrey tapped on the door and fluttered into the room, you’d left it open since all you were doing was research, and the sylph perched on the edge of the dresser with a bow. Walking through that door was a man you hadn’t expected to see again, Juan Badillo offered a sympathy laden look before thanking Ethrey and then moving to sit closer to the foot of the bed.

“Been awhile, Asphodel.” The old nickname was one you couldn’t run from, the letters branded inside your mouth just below your bottom lip even, and your tongue traced the scars reflexively. The ones that nobody would see, that you hadn’t allowed anyone to know about just as ordered, and not even Juan knew about their existence. His brother Liam hadn’t ever told him, not wanting to reveal the true depth of what the Ostrean government was willing to do to their people, sometimes it was best for people to be ignorant.

David had his bullseye and you had your brand.

“That’s certainly true, Juan, you look well. Were you sent in regards to the Revenant?” He nodded and you watched him immediately grab his bag, pulling old hard copies -in some cases more essential than digital- of what appeared to be spell books and rune pages.

“Yes, I also have a… theory in regards to your leg wound. The healers said there was both Death and Blood magic residue, which is what seems to be keeping it from healing, so I called in a favor. Figured that if anyone can fix it the answer would be a vampire, yeah?” Now you looked up, lingering just outside the doorway was a woman that must have been a Sidhe when alive if the other appearance of her was an indicator. Large dark eyes stared at you, even the whites of them were black, with white and silver spots almost like stars and no visible iris or pupil.

“Come in, please.” The vampire dipped her head once, stepping into the room, and your throat tightened at how tall she was. You’d been around your fair share of intimidating women before but the reaction was still the same, her sleek and straight hair was and the poise contrasted the apple green shade of the strands. Even without looking hulking in musculature it was the way she held herself, chin high and eyes clear and forward, mouth set in a straight line with a serious visage that honestly made you wonder what she was thinking.

You honestly didn’t know if you were intimidated or aroused, or both, but she clearly did as her bright red painted lips lifted into a smile.

“Call me Lottie, may I look at your leg?” You nodded and slipped your leg out from under the blankets, the bandages were starting to itch since the salve coating the inside was starting to dry and you hissed at the slight tug on the injury as Lottie began to remove them. The wound hadn’t changed at least and Lottie hummed as she looked right at you before carefully cleaning the salve away from the lowest portion of the wound, using her thumb to gather and taste the blood. You realized after a moment that it was her way of determining where the infection was, if it was in your skin or muscle or blood; isolating the source.

“Is it bad?” You could see her rolling her tongue around her mouth as if she were tasting some sort of an alcohol, which was kind of the case but still a weird thing to think about. You weren’t exactly liking that your brain was comparing you to a juice box right now.

“The infection is not in your blood, likely in the muscle, so unless you want to be stuck on antibiotics for weeks you are going to have to either carve the infected tissue out or use the scorching salve to burn it out at a magic level. I can hold you still, but the longer you let this sit the higher chance you have that it migrates. No blood magic or low grade healing spells will salvage this.” Not the diagnosis you wanted, really, but you couldn’t exactly change it. A low tap at the door made you turn to see David and the team, they looked uncomfortable seeing two strangers in your room but filed in anyway as you pointed to the bench seat near the window and the two chairs.

“Agent Badillo, can you prep the scorching slave?” You glanced at Juan, who was looking at David, and realized belatedly they looked similar -with David looking a little more worn from his life- but he nodded at your request and reached into the locked case to grab the emergency treatment. Lottie shifted so she was able to hold your leg perfectly still, making you bite back a whimper, and Juan slipped on the scale hide gloves before you barely managed to grab your leather belt.

The sound of hissing, the smell of burning skin, and your poorly muffled screech were consuming; you were thrashing but Lottie had no issues holding your leg perfectly still, tears burned at your eyes and trailed down your face and large hands caught yours as David pressed his forehead against your own and stopped you from nearly swatting the vampire and Juan. It was so fucking painful, you’d expected it to hurt but not like this, and sweat began to bead across your skin as the smell got worse as the magic properties of the dragon’s blood began to focus strictly on the lingering magic in your body.

What could have been hours, what could have been minutes, passed and left you breathless with a searing pain that made your limbs tremble. David blinked back at you as your breathing began to even out, as you finally opened your eyes, and you felt exhausted; letting yourself go limp since you didn’t even have the energy to tense up.

“You need to rest.” Lottie’s eyes were gleaming and her voice sounded hypnotic, sweet and syrupy, and your mind seemed to go fuzzy before you realized she’d compulsed you into going to sleep.

You almost cursed her but your heavy eyelids made you fall out of consciousness before you could.

Dave watched the vampire use the green plant salve on the horrific scar seared into your skin, his nose still burned from the smell and he knew he would never be able to shake the image of your pained expression if he tried. Ari’s jaw was tight, Kovac looked like he was going to lose his lunch, and Reznik was looking at the FBMI agent and the vampire with his hand resting on the grip of his silver knife.

“I’m impressed, for a human she endured that better than I expected.” The comment was made so damn calmly by the vampire that Dave’s nostrils flared a little, as a general rule he gave most magic-born and vamps the benefit of the doubt when it came to how sturdy they thought humans were, but it rubbed him the wrong way that anyone would think you were weak or lesser because you were a human psychic.

“Asphodel is a lot sturdier than she looks, human or not, Lottie. Now, these are the documents we were able to uncover in regards to our current information on Revenants.” Dave took the hard files, making sure not to grip the paper too tightly, and locked eyes with Badillo while nodding. He could see from the still present fire of arrogance on the man’s face that this was someone who had been an FBMI agent his entire career, someone who hadn’t seen the real horrors hidden beneath the illusion of near perfect government handling, someone inexperienced and unaware.

How you knew someone like that Dave wouldn’t even try to piece together, given that you’d been a handler before -like him- it was possible you’d worked with the man on the field.

“Lottie and I are going to get the mobile unit set up just outside the town, we’ll do a night patrol, so meet up at oh-six-hundred for information hand-off?” Dave nodded and the two left the room, though Badillo glanced back at your sleeping form, and only when he was sure they were gone did he nod at Art; the man grabbed the crystal from his jacket and circled the room, it would detect magic or technological bugs of any kind. Only once he was certain the room was clean did Dave close the door to activate the privacy spell, leaving him to face the other three men as you slept.

“Thousand dollars that they have more detailed information, so they can swoop in and figure out the problem.” Kovac’s bet was bad, all three men knew how the other field agents operated, and even if it was someone who knew you Dave had no doubt those two would somehow find signs of how the Revenant got here onto this plane. They had successfully put you out of continuing field work, since there was no way in hell you’d be able to use that leg for at least a week, and his fist squeezed tightly at the situation.

“Guess we’ll have to investigate their mobile unit.” Reznik stood up at Dave’s comment and opened one of the cases, grabbing what looked like a normal baseball cap, and as he traded it out with the one on his head Dave watched him disappear. Reznik, despite his large frame, was a trained stealth operative just like the rest of them and one of the lightest on his feet; he slipped out of the room and Dave looked over at Ari and Kovac.

“Compare these runes to the ones in that shipping container house, if they’re similar then that’ll give us a good head start.” The pages of runes and what they did were handed over to the two men, Dave grabbed your work laptop since you’d been looking into the history of the town.

Silence as they worked, only sharing a few comments here and there, wasn’t abnormal and Dave glanced at you again. You wouldn’t be able to walk on that leg, likely needing help into the bathroom at the least and help with showering at the most, and Dave knew that after his display holding you down the other three were likely already suspecting the blurred lines in your relationship. He would have to turn over the responsibility to care for you to one of the others, especially since he was the one in charge if you were out of commission, and Dave hated the ugly stab of annoyance at the idea of one of the others seeing you like he did.

He had no right to feel possessive, this thing between you and him was just about mutual satisfaction, it wasn’t a romantic relationship. Reznik returned within two hours and handed over a larger file, more detailed information and copies of redacted historical accounts wiped from local history books and from the internet. Ari and Kovac joined Reznik in skimming through the hard copies of the runes while Dave took over the history and his jaw tightened with each new secret revealed.

“There was a cult that operated out of Gloamview, they went undetected for decades since they were human psychics and not actively using magic, but they were praying, they were believing, and in doing so they deified a fucking Harvester.” The lesser demons known as Harvesters were only meant to gather the souls of the newly deceased, they lived in a realm of shadows that wasn’t the Ether or Iocrethran. With a Harvester becoming deified he had begun looking for live sacrifices, the evacuation of the town led him to turn on his own followers, and Dave had a feeling this was how a Revenant had gotten loose.

“So we have a lesser demon turned God on the loose, connected to the dead, and there’s a baby-faced FBMI agent with his vampire partner out there as the only ones in the field?” Kovac’s very brief summary led all three men into action, Dave paused after they filed out to glance at you, and then he was activating the locking spell as he closed the door behind him and followed the other two out to the SUV. If they were right then the thing would be more active now that it was night, the town’s supernatural problem as a whole would be worse, and he took the pouch of herbs that Ari handed him and slipped it into his pocket.

Old school protection charms were good enough for normal ghosts, at least.

You were going to murder all of them.

Waking up alone had been terrifying, waking up alone and locked in your room had been worse, and then you’d gone through the entire evidence folder and realized what sort of supernatural bullshit your team was facing and now you were ready to give all five FBMI operatives out there the bitch fit of a century. Juan was not going to hear the end of it for trying to hide necessary documents from you or your team. Redacted information or not you’d been given access the second you were assigned to this job, and he knew it.

Limping over to your bag was enough to make you sweat, your leg muscles destroyed because of the scorching salve, but you didn’t have a choice. Not a single one of them was equipped to handle a damn Harvester, deified or not, and you grabbed the Bacta syringe and stared at the liquid drug for a long moment. It was a miracle potion that would let you get out there and do your job, of course, but you had ten hours tops before you went loopy and passed out from how much you would need to heal your leg.

Revealing that you’d brought the very potent -very illegal outside strict medical handling- drug was not something you wanted to do, which was why you’d opted to use the scorching salve in the first place. You removed the cap on the needle and gave yourself the shot before you could continue hesitating, the immediate effect was numbing the pain in your leg and allowing you to move around the room freely -albeit slower- and get yourself ready to retrieve your idiots.

Ethrey and Cinnelan would stop you if you tried to leave through the front so, carefully, you used the window and shut it behind you after gearing up. Your leg still ached but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when you’d been injured or when you’d woken up, hell it wasn’t as bad as when Juan had used that damn salve on you. The SUV was gone, like you suspected, but you had a backup. When you’d gone out to the site earlier you had made sure to slap a single-use gate charm into the doorway of the building you’d fought the Revenant of, which you kept a fair stock of thanks to knowing a rune binder, so it was as easy as grabbing the corresponding sheet of enchanted paper and drawing the last symbol on the center rune to activate the spell.

The pulling sensation was sickening, you didn’t travel through the portals much -if at all- anymore, and your feet landed hard on the concrete; a look around showed the it seemed empty at a glance. But you could hear the distant, yet not, sound of death rattle and followed it to the abandoned community center up the road just in time to see Reznik get thrown by the Harvester and collide with Juan in a tumble as the latter was unable to get out of the way in time.

Ari was trying to hastily draw up a circle, with Kovac assisting, but the Harvester kept phasing in and out of places making it impossible to pin down. You reached into your belt and grabbed a handful of runic sutras that had been made and charged well in advance, while your psychic powers couldn’t amplify their power the way true magic born could it was enough to activate them, and with a soft exhale you opened your senses. You were prepared for the influx of noise from the lingering spirits, the deep chanting of prayer however was the clear reason this Harvester had stayed so strong and was still a Deity.

You dove into the building and went right for the first chanting spirit, the sutra crackling as it banished the spirit at the first contact, and you heard the outraged wail of the demon behind you. A large body collided with yours and David’s breathing was loud in your ear, the Harvester was dragged away by Reznik and Lottie together and you were scrambling back to your feet.

“How the hell are you-“

“Bacta shot. I’ve got to banish the rest of his followers, cover me.”

David’s expression went dark, he knew just how risky Bacta use was in a liquid dose and you suspected he was going to try and tell you off when this was done. But for now he nodded and you began to make your way around the building with him at your back, using silver bullets to pin down the Harvester whenever you found a new spirit, and each blow to the lesser demon’s power made it more and more desperate. Walls were collapsed as it attempted to target you, as it tried to focus its efforts solely on stopping you, and Lottie barely managed to save you from the nasty tumble down the basement stairs.

You found the last spirit hidden in what looked like it had been a pottery kiln, turned into a grave by the looks of things, but Dave’s shout of alarm was drowned out by the death rattle before you were swatted into one of the support beams scattered across the room. The ache in your chest was muted because of the liquid Bacta, it was still very present in your blood stream and healing you as you went, but the more you got injured and the more you ran around meant it was being processed faster.

Everyone had been forced downstairs, since this was where you were, and the Harvester eyed all of you as you surrounded it; the lesser demon was hunchbacked, its beady eyes focusing on you, but before you could even start to prep its banishment a lot of spiritual noise kicked up and you reeled back from how badly it hurt. David reached out to steady you and in the cacophony of sound you heard chanting, barely looking up in time to see a void of darkness engulf the deity and leaving the entire place empty. Your head throbbed and David maybe had a second’s notice before your eyes drooped and you blacked out again.

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[milla-frenchy]

2k7 | Joel Miller x fem reader Summary: Joel finds out that babysitting isn't your only student job Warnings: 18+ mdni. PWP. Age gap unspecified, escort, dirty talk, praise kink, sir kink, size kink, spitting, pussy slapping, light degradation, oral (m/f), unprotected piv, creampie. No outbreak a/n: @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog thank you for correcting me, as always. ILY 💕🫶🫶🫶 Thanks to @noxturnalpascal who had this idea: PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak). PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) *1000 word Minimum - 2000 word Maximum The other fics based on this prompt: Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal ; Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie ; Birthday surprise @aurorawritestoescape Follow @millafics and turn notifications on for fics updates

ao3 - Masterlist

"Good night, Mr. Miller!"

You close the front door behind you and quickly walk to your car. You’re a student, in your final year. Babysitter is your job for the first part of the evening. Sarah Miller is one of the children you regularly babysit on weekend evenings.

In the second part of the evening, you’re an escort.

A few months earlier, in a club, someone asked you to join their escort business. You had never considered it before, but the money to be earned, the relatively “classy” and secure side of the site you would work for, made you decide. However, you wanted to continue babysitting, and start escorting sparingly. 

You arrive at the usual hotel about thirty minutes before one of your regulars, so you can have time to get ready.

Joel is single, and regularly he pays for an escort.

That evening, he surfs his usual site, and he’s looking for something fresh. He has his regulars, but from time to time he likes to fuck a new one. He loves to see how they react under his fingers. Loves their look when they see his cock for the first time, then when he sinks into them. How they take his cock. His subscription costs him a lot, but he has never been disappointed.

He scrolls lazily on his phone until his thumb stops on the screen. He scrolls back a little and stares at a photo. He can’t see much of the escort's face, but it's enough to put him in doubt. Is it really Sarah’s babysitter he’s looking at?

In 10 minutes, you’ll be here to babysit Sarah. He puts his phone down and waits. When you arrive, he greets you as usual, but lingers to look at this little mole, just above your mouth. This mole, that made him scroll backwards.

He smirks, and goes out to meet a woman he fucks from time to time. When he pushes his cock in her pussy that night, he thinks of his kid's babysitter.

When he gets home, you’re sitting on the couch, watching Narcos. He wonders why the actor is wearing such tight jeans when his bulge is so visible.

You get up and ask him if he had a good evening. He smiles at you and says yes. He pauses before asking if everything went well with Sarah, and you tell him everything was fine, as usual. You gather your things and leave, wishing him a good night.

Joel watches you walk to your car and he heads upstairs. He goes to his daughter’s bedroom to check on her, and closes the door, seeing that Sarah is sleeping.

He walks to his bedroom, lies down on the bed and picks up his phone. He finds your page and looks through your photos. The escorts' bodies are much less hidden than their faces. He looks at your curves. Your breasts pressed between your hands. Your pussy covered in red lingerie. Your ass, barely covered by a black thong. He pulls his cock out of his pants and boxers, and grabs the lotion from his nightstand drawer before starting to jerk off. He thinks about you and wonders if you're with a client. He jacks off with long and slow movements, and imagines the noises you make when you’re getting fucked. The noises you would make if he was fucking you deep. He imagines your mouth around his cock and how you would suck his balls. He jerks off harder and cums, sending squirts onto his lower stomach. He doesn’t even take the time to clean himself before booking a slot with you.

The next weekend, he had asked Tommy to watch Sarah. 

He arrives at the hotel, goes to room 301 and sits in the Chesterfield chair, waiting for you. 5 minutes later, you enter the room. You take off your trench and turn towards the chair. Your eyes widen when you see him.

“Mr Miller?!”

He looks at you and doesn’t answer.

“Oh my god, it’s so embarrassing… I’m sorry, I will notify the escort service of the situation and you will be reimbursed. I am really sorry, Mr. Miller.”

He smiles and says “I think you don’t understand, baby. I booked because I knew it was you.”

You frown and tell him it’s totally inappropriate.

“Well… Considering the way I catch you looking at me sometimes, I'm not sure it bothers you that much.”

“No, Mr. Miller, I assure you I don’t-”

He smirks again, and you stop talking. He’s right. Ever since you started babysitting his daughter, you can't help but sneak glances at him. But you thought you were more discreet, though.

“Now darlin’, I’m your client tonight, so do what you’re getting paid for, and come suck my cock.”

His attitude shocks you a little, he’s the father of the child you babysit, and there has never been any awkward situations between the two of you until now. But his talk, the way he commands you, turns you on. After a few seconds of hesitation, you walk up to him, get on your knees and undo his pants. You take out his cock and pause before looking up at him.

“Come on, baby. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of one cock? That would be embarrassing as an escort, right?”

You lean down, take his shaft in your hand, start to jerk him off and take his tip in your mouth. It's so wide that it barely fits, but you do your best. 

“Look at me, when you blow me, baby.”

You try to put your embarrassment aside and glance up at him. The moment your eyes meet, his are so dark, so full of desire that you forget your reserve. You want to give him value for his money, but above all, you want to make him forget everything while he is in this hotel room with you.

You let the saliva build up and then flow down his shaft, while you swirl your tongue over his slit and let the precum invade your mouth. 

“That’s it darlin’. That’s good. Deeper now.”

You go further down, squeeze his thigh with one hand, letting your mouth go down his shaft. You then caress his balls with your other hand, while you keep his cock buried all the way to your throat.

”Shit, baby… can't believe this naughty mouth is the same that dares to talk to my daughter.”

You moan around his cock hearing him, and hold yourself back from slipping your hand into your panties and touching yourself. You pull back and suck him again. He puts his hands on each side of your head and pumps your mouth with his hip thrusts. You stay still, without moving, eyes closed, while he’s fucking your mouth roughly.

“Yeah, just like that. Fuckin’ take my cock.”

He growls as his fists clench in your hair. He stops and holds you, your mouth full of his cock. You hear him breathing heavily.

“‘m gonna fuck your throat now. Eyes on me baby.”

You stare at him, and he pulls back, before sinking his cock in your throat. He holds your head so tight that you couldn't pull back even if you wanted to. You let him fuck your throat, as he thrusts deep inside 3 or 4 times, slowly. You feel tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, as his shaft sinks fully. He holds you and says “Don’t move. Don’t fuckin’ move.”

You follow his command, your eyes still fixed on him, and you feel his cock twitch in the back of your throat.

“That’s good, darlin’. Fuck…”

He finally releases you, slightly, still setting the pace. He leans towards you and pulls your head back, saying “open”.

You open and he spits in your mouth. He caresses your chin and tells you to swallow. You do so, and you don’t take your eyes off him. You know that’s what he wants. His attitude keeps turning you on, and you feel that your panties are soaked.

“Take off your blouse and skirt, and lie down on the bed.”

He looks at you, still sitting in the Chesterfield chair, while you undress. Then he stands up, removes all his clothes and lays down on the bed, his shoulders between your thighs. He pulls aside the fabric of your panties and reveals your pussy.

“You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby…Now ask me to eat you out.”

“Eat my pussy, please.”

He slaps your clit and you cry out in surprise.

“Ask better than that or I ain’t eatin’ you.”

“Would you eat my pussy, please, sir?”

“Much better. We’ll have to work on your manners, darlin'.”

You don't even have time to wonder if he's really planning to fuck you again, before he slides from your soaked hole to your clit, with the flat of his tongue, in a long stroke. You moan as he now pushes his tongue into your pussy and his nose rubs against your clit.

“Mmmm you taste good.”

He licks you again with a long stroke and pushes two fingers into your pussy, focusing his tongue on your clit. His beard rubs against your thighs and fuck… he knows how to eat a pussy. You bend your knees and spread your thighs to offer yourself even more to him, your hands gripping his curls. He raises his head and his chin shines with your wetness. 

“You spread like a slut for me, who would have known you were such a whore when I hired you?”

Being far from shocked, you moan under his words as he starts sucking your clit again. His free hand pulls on your bra to release a breast, which he grabs in his hand.

“Fuckin talk to me, baby.”

“I love that. You eat me so well. Please-”

He stops and says “manners.”

“I’m… I’m sorry, sir. It’s so good, sir, I forgot my manners. Please keep going, sir, I would like to cum in your mouth, please.”

“Good girl”, he says, before starting to swirl his tongue over your clit again.

He pushes a third finger into your pussy and you roll your hips against his mouth, trying to grind yourself against it as much as possible.

“That's it baby. I can feel you’re gonna cum.”

You moan louder and louder and he adds "cum on my tongue, baby. Cum on the tongue of the man who pays for two of your jobs"

“Fuck”, you say as you grip his hair and come in his mouth, shaking.

“There it is… That's good, baby, you're doing so well.” 

You jolt again at his praise, your pussy squeezing his fingers one more time. He kneels between your thighs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and asks:

“You want this cock, baby?”

“Yes I do, sir.”

“Take it, then”, he adds, lying on his back next to you.

Shyness makes you doubt your actions again the moment you straddle him, after taking off your panties and bra. You’re so close to his face. The face of one of your employers, much older than you, but above all, the father of a child you babysit. Joel seems to understand what's making you hesitate, and his gaze becomes softer, more familiar to you. 

“What happens here, stays here, baby.”

You nod and grab his cock, pressing his tip against your entrance. You stare at his chest and start sinking on it, when he stops you.

“No, not like that. You look at me when you fuck yourself on my cock. You look at me, and don’t take your eyes off me.”

“Why?”, you whisper.

“Because I wanna see you suffocate when my cock tears you in two. Because I want you to realize that it’s my cock, that you’re gonna impale yourself on. Because I want you to remember that, the next time you come to my house and I open the door to you, even if we don’t refer to it outside of here.”

So you raise your head, stare at him, and lower your pelvis. And god, he was right when he said his cock would tear you in two. You feel it parting your folds and you can't hold back a long moan.

You keep impaling yourself on his cock, more and more, going down his shaft without stopping or slowing down, your eyes fixed on his, while he has placed his hands on your hips now, but letting you be in control.

His stare has changed too. His confidence has given way to pleasure and you can't help but smile, until you reach the base of his dick. You stay like that for a few seconds, full of his cock, and you catch your breath.

“So tell me…. since when did you wanna fuck me?” he asks you. 

“Fuck, I…I don’t know…”

He holds your hips so you stay grounded on him, and can’t avoid his questions.

“Days? Weeks? Months?”

“Oh god…hu…Weeks or months, I guess.”

“Oh baby you wanted this cock for so long?”

“Please, I wanna move…”

“Last question. Do you think about that big cock at night in your bed?”

“Fuck…Yes. Yes I do. I touch myself thinking of your cock.”

He smirks and finally releases the pressure on your hips. You start rolling them, barely lifting yourself with every movement of your hips. You rub your clit against his lower abdomen and you seek your pleasure again, even though you came in his mouth a short time before.

“Fuck look at that… you’re using me to get off, my cock deep in your slutty pussy…”

You bite your lip and realize that what you’re doing is unprofessional. You should act for his own pleasure. But you can't. And you don’t want to, for now. His cock is so good, and you feel that in less than two minutes you’re gonna cum on it.

“It’s ok, baby. Use me, come on my cock. It’s here for it.” 

“I…fuck. I’m gonna cum, sir. Your cock is so thick and…my clit...fuck...my clit..it’s so good. I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum, sir. Can I cum, please, sir?”

“Come for me baby, come on”, he whispers, and as you’re coming on his cock, he presses harder on your hips, to keep you fully buried on him.

You fall onto his torso and he caresses your back until your spasms stop. You come to your senses and sit up straight, before realizing that you are still impaled on him, and that his cock is still just as big and hard inside you. Your pussy clenches at this sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Fuck, baby. You just came twice in a matter of minutes, what fucker would be mad after that?”

You nod and smile gently.

“Lie on your back, now, baby.”

You do as he asks, and once lying on top of you, he says, his eyes fixed on yours “my turn to fuck you.”

He thrusts into you half way suddenly, and you can't help but suffocate. He pulls back, and immediately sinks in again and bottoms up.

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ tight. ’m gonna ruin that pussy, baby.”

He fucks you quickly and goes deep with each stroke. You feel his balls slap against your pussy and…he fucks well. One of the best fucks you've ever had. Maybe even the best. You hold on to his biceps and let him fuck you.

“Come on baby, use your words, tell me what you feel.”

But he’s fucking you so hard, so good, that you can’t answer.

“Oh baby… what’s goin’ on? You can’t talk anymore, I’m fucking you that good?”

“Yes…yes, sir.”

“Come on baby, give me more. Your other clients fuck you like this?”

You can’t answer, but you shake your head, while he’s still pounding you.

“No? Not a single client fucks you as good as me?”

You shake your head again. 

“You know it won’t be the only time we fuck, right? I’m not even done with you, and I already miss your pussy. Fuck…you’re squeezing me so tight…fuck.”

“More”, you say.

“More what? Words.”

“I want you to fuck me more… I… shit… I want more nights.”

“You’ll have them, baby. Ah fuck..I’m gonna fill you, baby….That’s what you want? To be filled by my big cock?”

“Yes…Yes please sir, fill me up!”

He thrusts in again, twice, three times, and you feel his spurts of cum filling your pussy.

“You're gonna empty my bank account with that pussy baby, damn…”

*******************

Thank you for reading 🙏 Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[stabortega]

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER TWO

Summary: Having to deal with the aftermath of that situation was definitely worse then finding out the truth.

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Fem!G!P!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Mentions of sex, dirty talking and sexting. Knife play. Mentions of kinks, nothing explicit. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's Note: Still think my writing is trash but you guys seem to like it. 💜

MASTERLIST.

"What the actual fuck?!" Jasmine almost yelled as Jenna shoved her inside one of the dressing rooms in the set, while she tried to shut the other actress up. "Thank god someone's paying that poor girl's college."

"This is not fucking funny, Jasmine. I shouldn't have told you." Jenna locked the door behind her, looking at her apprehensively. She made a terrible mistake by telling Jasmine what went on last night. "And now they expect me to work with her? After I-"

"Seen her dick? Oh god, what will be of you?" The black girl laughed, while sitting down on the couch. "Chill, alright? She probably doesn't even know you donated. I mean, what was your username?"

Jenna gulped. "I don't wanna say it."

"Come on, was it that obvious??" Jasmine rolled her eyes, waiting for an answer.

"It was my first name then the first four digits of my birthday."

"I cannot fucking believe you."

Living in New York wasn't easy. Every apartment was obnoxiously expensive, so you had to resort to leave the city and start living in Brooklyn. It was a nice neighborhood, the best you could afford if we're being completely honest. Moving to the big city was by far the best and the worst decision you've ever made. Other than starting college, obviously.

I mean, you loved every second of it, but it started to fuck your financial life right up the ass.

"You should create an Only Fans or something." You almost spit the whiskey shot you were drinking right back to your cup, looking at your friend as if she just told you that she had killed three men with a needle. "I'm serious, (Y/N). Do you know how much money you can get just by posting out some feet pics, or whatever?"

"I'm not gonna sell pictures of my feet for cash, Liana." She shook her head no while taking a sip of her Appletini.

"Then don't. Sell your dick pics, or livestream. Come on, I know how much you're struggling and you know you're putting that body to waste. What's the worse thing can happen?"

And she was right. You started out with just an account on that website, posting some pictures here and there; until one of your followers suggested livestreaming and said she would pay some good money just to watch you cum on your stomach (which obviously, she did). It happened so fast that, when you realized it, you were able to get yourself a better place right downtown, pay off your college debts and buy a professional video camera to shoot some amateur movies. And no, not the pornographic kind.

You wanted to be a director someday, but you were also really good with a camera; which is why you got the opportunity to work in the upcoming Scream movie as an assistant videographer (and because Liana put in a good word for you). It was your first real gig in your area of interest, you couldn't be more excited.

The first day was just like any other. You got to meet a few people and get a hold of the equipments you were going to use.

"Ay, (Y/N)! Come here for a sec!" Your boss, Dave, called your name while you were looking at one of the IMAX cameras, which you've never got the opportunity to film with. You realized he wanted to introduce you to some people, which he did. You just didn't expect it would be one of the protagonists (and the newest it actress of Hollywood). "It's a pleasure to meet you, Jenna."

You extended your hand for her to shake, which she did after looking at it for a couple of seconds, almost if she was analyzing you. "Nice to meet you too, (Y/N)."

And that was pretty much it, you guys didn't exchanged any other words besides that on that particular day. You even thought that she could be avoiding you, for whatever reason. All throughout the day, you felt her gaze on you multiple times, but everytime you looked at her, she just looked away.

"You're definitely not subtle." Jasmine whispered in Jenna's ear, while she watched you handle one of the camera films. "I'm pretty sure that she can physically feel your eyes on her butt as we speak."

"She's definitely gonna find out that I was on her stream last night." The Ortega took a deep breath, looking away when she realized you looked at her again.

"She's not, don't get paranoid. You have the most obvious and boring username ever? Yes. It would take just one Google search to figure out your identity? It would. But still!" Jenna got up from the chair she was sitting, realizing that all she wanted to do was to smoke this off.

"You're not helping, Jasmine." She took out her pack of Marlboro's and her lighter once she was outside. "I never even watched porn before, not even by myself."

"And now you donated $1500 to a complete stranger just so she could cum while moaning your name. That's a character development." Jasmine stood beside Jenna, who had just started smoking so she could even try to forget that she wanted to sit on her coworker's dick less than 24 hours ago.

"I'm never doing that again, Jasmine. It's inhumane and gross. It was the first and the last time."

jenna2709: thought about you a lot today.

"Oh, did you? Good to hear that." She locked the door behind her and sat on her bed. That was Jenna's, at least, 10th day of watching your streams nonstop. And she had just "caught" you in the beginning of your livestream (which meant that she had the notifications of your page on and was too much of a chicken to admit it). So that meant that you weren't even undressed yet, you were just rubbing your dick over your sweatpants and chatting a litte bit with your followers before you started your actual show. "What exactly were you thinking of, huh?"

jenna2709: of me sucking your cock under this table while you tell me how much of a good girl i am.

Jenna realized what she said after she already sent the message. Where did that came from? She thought while looking intensely at the livestream, hoping you would just stop with the teasing and take your cock out of your pants for her to see (and drool). "Oh baby, I'm sure you're very good with your mouth. Wanted to cum right on your throat and make you swallow every drop."

jenna2709: i would be honored to be your cum dump.

"Okay, I crossed the line." She took a deep breath, not even recognizing who was that person inside of her, the person that would say the most obscene and erotic shit that she ever heard. It was almost if something awakened inside of her everytime she saw you. Every couple of days, at exactly 10PM, she would lock herself in her hotel bedroom and fuck her pussy so deep until she passed out from having like, five orgasms. And that was the easy part, obviously. The hardest part was definitely waking up in the morning and having to look at you as if she didn't saw your dick inside of a fleshlight the night before.

Jenna grew up christian. In a american dream type of household. But getting in touch with Hollywood and all of the film industry made her get out of her bubble and quite literally, discover the world. She drank, she smoked, she went to 2AM parties at some A-List celebrity's house that she never even met before. But sex? Never sex. She met a few people here and there, but nothing further. It made her think about that, the fact that she couldn't even be interested enough in someone to actually have some sort of contact with them; but with you, she would stay all night thinking about you fucking her raw and senseless until she couldn't remember who she was.

"Stop teasing, Jenna. We both know you were born to be my cum dump, and mine only." You were so horny imagining having that stranger on her knees while she had her mouth open, waiting for you to dump your cum inside of her pretty little throat. You took your cock out of your pants, a little bit earlier than you've expected, but you were getting so worked up that you didn't even thought about your stream routine. You started to stroke the member gently, feeling your dick pulsate right on the palm of your hand. "I know that you're the only one who can take care of this right, don't you think?"

jenna2709: if you were mine, i would make you cum on my pussy everyday.

Jenna started to get scared. Who was this person that was hiding inside of her? Was she really like that? Is she the female version of Christian Grey and doesn't know it yet? How the fuck she got so horny all of a sudden?

She knew that the reason you were playing that little game with her was merely money. But there was a part of her, a tiny part that hoped that you felt attracted to her as much as she felt to you. Even if you'd never seen her face, or her body. It didn't mattered if she had just met you a couple of days ago; she wanted you to want her, the same way she wanted you.

"And if you were mine, I would carve my name on your belly so everyone would know who you belong to." Oh yes, the knife play.

Jenna wasn't naive or innocent, she knew about fetishes and BDSM practices; and thankfully there was the option of marking your kinks on your own profile when you created your account. The actress spent an embarrassing amount of time researching some of your kinks that were listed on your profile (there was so many things she didn't even knew existed, to be completely honest). And the thought of you doing all of those things with her got her aroused in a matter of seconds.

jenna2709: you could carve your name on my face, for all i care.

jenna2709: i would definitely want people to know that i'm yours.

The rest of the livestream went as usual, you doing all of the things that your subs asked you to, Jenna being awarded as the number 1 tipper for the 5th time in a row, nothing out of the ordinary. You were just about to cum for the second time when Jenna tipped you again with a request.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $2000 with the message: i want you to cum for me, again.

"You know I never decline your requests, baby. But, let's be fair this time around?" You answered, a little bit breathless, masturbating your cock as hard as you could. "I'll give you a private livestream if you show me your face."

Oh, a private livestream?

Jenna had been following your for awhile now ever since her first time watching your stream. She knew that private livestreams weren't something you did. And yet, you were here, offering one for free, just to see Jenna's face in return. It was a really good offer, but Jenna couldn't accept. If you found out who she was, the shooting would be the most awkward work experience for both of them. It would be like, "Hey, (Y/N)? Can you get this camera ready for me? Also, I've already seen your dick and I'm having wet dreams with you fucking me like the slut I am." So, she took one last breath after she decided to stick with her original plan and decline.

jenna2709: it's a deal.

[katiexpunk]

Caller Number Nine | Pairing Javier Peña x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a radio host of a popular late-night segment on relationships, advice and more. After a particularly bad night of calls, your final call of the night takes you by surprise.

Warnings: Javier is a flirt. Alcohol/marijuana. Humor/Banter. Flirting. References to infidelity and a man's negative view on his wife's postpartum body (the reader puts them both in their place). Both reader and Javier are lonely. New York. Slightly dom Javier. Biting. Javier gives reader a hickey. Murphy the Cat (this cat is DEA). Bodegas and a wholesome shop owner named Carlos. Some Spanish. TUWOMT call back to Paddington 2 but in a Javier AU. Javier calls the reader a slut once (she likes it). Praise kink. Thigh riding. Use of pet names. Just a hot fuck. Creampie. Unprotected sex. Fingering. Pizza on ranch. Dave Portnoy gets mentioned (iykyk). No use of Y/N, no use of daddy. For immersability, the reader has no major physical descriptions.

W/C: ~6K

A/N: Let's just say this story was inspired by the slutty mustache that has made a triumphant return. I’m also just really into pizza with ranch right now, too, idk. If you need me I’ll be internally freaking out about the fact that there are almost 1,400 of you interested in my silly little stories. Thank you. 🥹🖤

Masterlist | Notifications | Read on AO3

People suck at listening. You used to, too. But over time, call after call, you have become intimately acquainted with the quiet moments—the pauses between heartbeats, the breaths taken before confessions spill forth, the silence that stretches like a canvas waiting for emotions to color it. 

These moments, often overlooked in the noise of daily life, are where you find the truth that guides you through the tangled web of love and relationships you navigate every night on your show.

For you, the quiet is not emptiness but a space brimming with potential. It's in these pauses that you listen most intently, not just to the spoken words but to the ones that tremble on the edge of silence, too shy or too scared to make themselves heard. You have learned that what is not said can be just as important as what is, and you can hear those unspoken fears, dreams, and desires. 

Each night, as the clock winds down and the world outside your studio window holds its breath, you lean into the quiet, inviting it into your show. You encourage your callers to do the same—to listen to the quiet within themselves, to the truths they've buried under layers of fear, doubt, or societal expectation. "In the silence," you often say, "you'll find the answers you've been too busy to hear."

Most of the time the callers are open to your feedback, their hearts open and kind.

Most of the time. 

Tonight isn’t one of those times.

++++

“Have you ever had Brussels sprouts made for you at midnight by a gorgeous woman in no pants following multiple orgasms? I have, and they’re fucking delicious,” one caller said. It was obvious after minutes of talking to him that he was failing to heed your advice that if he didn’t stop sleeping with women who weren’t his wife, she would likely find out one day and leave him. God, you hope she does. 

“I love her, you know? I just don’t find myself that physically attracted to her after she had the baby, it’s not my fault…” another said. Ugh, fuck off, dude. You were quick to shut that one down, to tell him that he was being a boy, to go to the store and buy his wife some goddamn flowers and apologize for being such an asshole. 

Like a broken record stuck on repeat, this is how the night continues. One bad call after another, each seeming to echo or outdo the last in its what the fuck factor. 

In the dimly lit recording studio, a soft hum of equipment fills the air, punctuated only by the occasional flicker of LED lights on the soundboard. You think briefly about letting out a scream before your last call, surely the foam walls would absorb the sound. 

The glow of the computer screen casts a soft light on your face, accentuating the furrow of your brow and the downturn of your lips. You're a picture of frustration, a stark contrast to the empathetic persona that your listeners know and rely on. Each bad call tonight has chipped away at you. You drop your head into your hands and rub your temples for a brief moment before looking up at the clock, its hands inching their way to your liberation. 

Just one more call. 

The phone lines blink red. Your hand, a little steadier than you feel, reaches out and cues up the next caller, your voice finding strength as it always does when you speak into the void. 

“Hi there, caller number nine. You’re on the air with Midnight Confessions. What’s on your heart tonight?” 

“Ah shit – oh, uh probably shouldn’t say that on air huh – mm, wasn’t expecting to get through,” the man admits, his tone telling you he’s nervous, and probably a little drunk. 

“Guess it’s your lucky night then. And it’s a late-night show, you can curse all you want to. What’s your name?” you ask, trying to ease him into the conversation.

There’s a pause, the kind that tells you the caller is weighing his options on whether he should give you his real name or not. Finally, he exhales softly, his mouth close to the receiver, enough for the exhale to cut through the static. 

“I’m Javier. And you are?” 

“You can call me the voice of the night,” you reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, the first genuine one in hours.

“Didn’t realize I called the crime fighters hotline.”

The joke catches you by surprise and you let out a little laugh.

“Can’t say I’ve gotten that one before,” you respond before eventually giving him your real name. “So tell me, Javier, what would you like to talk about tonight?” 

There’s another pause, longer this time, before Javier’s voice returns softer, and you can tell the tone is about to shift. 

“This is stupid, I shouldn’t have called. I’m sorry for wasting your time tonight ma’am,” he says, and you can tell he’s seconds away from hanging up. 

“Javier, wait –” you say, but he doesn’t respond. The line hasn’t disconnected, so you know he’s still there. 

“Listen, I don’t know you – and you don’t have to tell me anything – but I can tell from the tone of your voice that it sounds like you’re carrying quite a bit on your shoulders. It’s brave of you to want to open up about it. Sometimes, talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone you know,” you say, letting the dead air hang heavy for a second, “let me try to help.” You try not to make a habit out of convincing callers to spill their guts, but something about this call, this man, compels you to. 

Javier sighs a sound that carries a world of worry. “I don’t even know where to start. My whole life, I’ve defined myself by my job, and without that, I –” his voice starts to crack, and he stops. You hear the clank of an ice cube against glass, and he continues again, “I realize how alone I am, how I don’t have anyone or anything. I feel like the only company I have these days are the ghosts of a past life.” 

You don’t have the full context of his confession, but it hits you deeper than expected, echoing a sentiment that's all too familiar. You think about how most of the time, when you’re not working, you’re either turning to dust on the couch or in the company of fictional men you read about in books. 

"Javier," you start, your voice softer, threading through the silence with care, "I understand more than you might think. You're not alone. It might feel that way right now, but I promise you’re not,” you say sweetly.

When he doesn’t say anything, you continue, “Losing a part of our identity, especially one that's been a cornerstone of who we are, is like losing our direction. But it's also an opportunity, a chance to rediscover yourself, to find new aspects of your life that give you meaning and joy."

You pause, giving Javier space, letting your words hopefully seep in to provide some comfort. 

“What does that mean – that you understand more than I might think?” he asks, not acknowledging the rest of your statement, a curiosity in his voice. 

“It means –” you start. Oh god, here we go. You’re not often like this with your callers, but this feels different. The studio, with its blinking lights and the gentle hum of the machinery, suddenly feels more intimate, as if it's just you and Javier at this moment, connecting through the airwaves.  

“When I was little, my mother always knew my things, quirks, you know? Things like the fact that I’m scared of heights, that I get cranky if I don’t eat breakfast, and that I only like ranch dressing on pizza and never salad. It’s all trivial, small little details, but from this, I think I learned that being known is to be loved. 

You take a deep breath, and let the silence swallow you whole for a moment before continuing. 

“When I say I understand more than you might think, I mean that I’m still one of those people who’s waiting for someone to tell me how much I mean to them, still hoping for someone who will know those things about me, too,” you pause.

“Someone who will hold my hand tightly when I’m on a rooftop so I don’t somehow tumble over the edge, someone who will make sure I eat breakfast, even if it’s just a shitty granola bar, someone who will buy the fancy ranch, even if it only gets used on greasy pizza.” 

You hear Javier chuckle through the line. 

“Something funny?” you ask, a little confused, slightly embarrassed that this call has somehow reversed the roles and you’re the one spilling your confessions over like a broken yolk into his hand. 

“No, no – it’s just ranch on pizza, that’s uh, that’s…disgusting,” he admits, a playful tone to his words, the sadness before seems to be gone, but you know his humor is likely just a mask. 

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know ranch on pizza is a classic, and quite delicious. Thousands – no millions – of people like ranch on their pizza, it’s not that weird,” you quip. 

“Right,” he rasps, “I’ll take your word for it, sweetheart.” You bite your lower lip and try to ignore the heat that’s risen to your cheeks, the little thrill you feel in your stomach from your banter. You’re quickly brought back to reality when you look at the clock and realize your call time is nearing an end. 

“Well, Javier, you're my last call of the night and I’m afraid it’s time to wrap the show up. Is there anything else I can help you with before I let you go?” 

“No,” he says, his voice a low rasp, thick like honey, “thanks for saying all of that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, the smile still on your lips like sugar from cotton candy. You slump back into your chair and the line disconnects. 

++++

As the clock ticks past one, the studio lights fall to darkness, leaving only a solitary desk lamp to cast long shadows across the room. You loop the familiar weight of your backpack over your shoulder and put on your headphones. 

You lock the studio door, and step into the brisk night air — it’s March, technically Spring, but the remnants of Winter are still holding tight. The city's pulse is tangible, even at this late hour, as you navigate your way to the subway. With only the Eagles in your ear to keep you company, you watch as the Graffiti-streaked walls blur past. 

Once off the subway, you think about heading straight home to promptly melt into your mattress, but the rumble in your stomach reminds you that you haven’t eaten since lunch. 

Might as well go see Murphy. He’s always happy to see you. 

You round around the corner and the bodega lights come into view. The ground beneath you is damp and you’re careful not to step into any puddles as you make your way to the shop. You push open the shop door and the familiar chime of a bell alerts Murphy to your presence. 

“Hi Murphy,” you coo, crouching closer to the ground so he can rub up against you. “How’s my favorite boy?” You say, scratching his favorite spot under his chin, feeling the comfort of his soft fur and rhythmic purr. If Murphy had it his way, you’d live at the Bodega, ceasing only to exist to give him love. 

Your stomach growls again and you rise, “Gonna get some dinner now, okay Murph?” You walk through the tight aisles, grab a can of tuna as you pass by the canned goods, making your way to the frozen section in the back.

Chicken nuggets it is, you silently tell yourself before grabbing the frozen bag and making your way to the register. 

"Hola, Carlos. ¿Cómo va tu noche?" (Hi, Carlos. How’s your night going?) 

"Oh, hola.” As much as you’d love to practice your Spanish with Carlos, he needs to practice his English more and you’re more than happy to oblige. 

"Good to see you. Listened to your show tonight, what a piece of work some of those people were,” he responds, using his index finger to punch numbers on the cash register.

"Tell me about it. How much do I owe you?"

"$7.50. Murphy says thank you for the donation,” he smiles, holding up the canned Tuna, and like clockwork, Murphy jumps up on the counter and starts assaulting the can with his cheek. 

“Like he gave me any choice,” you respond, handing over $10. Carlos gives you your change and you give Murphy a few final loving pats on the head.

“¡Hasta mañana!"

"Buenas noches."

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the microwave fights you, its door refusing to stay closed until you jam it shut with a wooden spoon. With dinner finally spinning inside, you sink onto the couch, the night’s weight lifting off your shoulders. You feel yourself nodding off before the sound of the microwave beeping and the rumble of your stomach wake you up. 

Dinner done, you smoke a joint, the smoke curling lazily in the lamplight. Your mind goes fuzzy and you stare up at the ceiling, trying to make shapes out of the popcorn on the ceiling. Your mind drifts to the thought of your last caller and you let your mind wander as you imagine what he might be up to tonight. Is he asleep? Or is he staring up at his ceiling, lost in thoughts as you are?

The only thing you know for certain is that you’re both alone tonight. At least there’s some comfort in knowing you’re not the only one.

The city outside continues its restless murmuring, but your mind goes silent as you fall asleep. 

++++

You're grateful to have the next night off. Not like you have plans, but at least you don’t have to show face or wash your hair. Even if you did have to go out in public tonight, it wouldn’t matter — that’s the beauty of New York. You could look like a gutter rat and nobody would give a shit. But still, the freedom of an evening without obligations feels like a luxury, a small pocket of time where the demands of the world fade into the background. 

Staring at your nearly empty fridge, its emptiness staring back at you, you sigh. Fuck. And then it hits you, unexpected but undeniable, a craving for pizza. Not just any pizza, but a pie from your favorite local spot, where the crust is always perfectly crisp and the cheese melts in a way that feels like a hug for your taste buds.

Stepping out into the evening rain, you make your way to the pizzeria that’s only a block away. The moment you open the door, a warm wave of garlic, tomato, and baked dough envelops you. The line isn’t long, but it gives you enough time to deliberate over your order, though deep down, you know you’ll end up choosing your usual — a Margherita. 

You peek up from your phone and notice the man in front of you at the order counter. Broad shoulders strain against the fabric of his shirt, his tight jeans outlining a figure that speaks of strength. Dark hair and tan skin contrast strikingly under the fluorescent lighting. He orders confidently, his voice smooth, almost familiar. As he’s about to cash out, he adds “Can I get a side of ranch too, please?” 

“No problem,” the cashier says, a little too happy to oblige his request. She’s flirting, you don’t know her, but you can tell. When the cashier asks for a name for the order, it confirms what you think you already know. 

 "Javier." The name hangs in the air, a familiar sound that sends a jolt through you. 

It couldn’t possibly be. 

The words escape your lips before you have a chance to second-guess it. 

“I thought ranch on pizza was disgusting.” 

He turns to face you and oh. You might have guessed that he was attractive from his voice, but seeing him is something else entirely. He’s strikingly handsome, with a dark mustache trimmed perfectly above his lip, his jaw stark and chiseled. The corners of his lips turn up in a smirk. 

“Shit. Caught red-handed by the crime stopper herself,” he says with a wink. 

Okay, so he’s handsome and charming. You’re so fucked. 

As Javier steps aside, your gaze lingers for a moment longer before you place your own order. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you do. 

“No plans tonight?” He asks, and you shake your head. 

“Not really, just this. Might swing by to see my boyfriend on my way home,” you say, noticing the way his expression shifts into disappointment, it’s subtle, but it’s there. 

“Oh,” Javier says. He thinks for a second that maybe you were lying last night about understanding what it’s like to be alone. 

“Yeah, we’ve got a hot date with a can of tuna,” you respond, smiling as you watch his very visibly confused face, the furrow of his brow. You can tell he’s not quite sure how to respond, the words a tangled knot in his brain, or perhaps conjuring up some weird kinky thoughts about what a date with a can of tuna could entail. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“I’m just messing with you,” you laugh. “He’s a bodega cat up the street, I usually swing by every night after work and I’ve developed a soft spot for the little guy. His name’s Murphy.” 

“Wait, Murphy? From Carlos’ shop?” Javier asks, and you’re a little surprised. 

“You know Carlos?” 

“Yeah, yeah — he’s friends with my father. Great guy,” he adds, nodding to the pizzeria worker who hands him his order. You notice the blush on her cheeks when he says thank you.

You watch intently as the other worker packs up yours, placing two to-go containers of ranch on your box. 

You grab your pizza and use your free hand to grab one of the containers of ranch and extend it to Javier. “For you,” you smile as you hold it out to him. 

“Eat with me?” He asks, grabbing the ranch from your hand, your skin briefly touching. 

How could you say no? 

You smile and nod, and follow him through the restaurant. He holds the door open for you and places his hand on your lower back as he guides you out. You feel like a schoolgirl with a crush. He’s just being a gentleman, but something about the touch causes something in your core to run hot, a hint of arousal in its warmth. 

In typical New York fashion, you find a relatively clean stoop to sit on. With the pizza boxes open on the step in front of you, the steam wafting in the cool night air, you smile at Javier. 

“Are you ready to have your world rocked?” You ask, holding the pizza up long enough for the strings of cheese to disconnect from the box. He does the same. 

“After you, Cariño.” 

Cariño. So he’s a flirt, too. 

You dip your slice into the ranch, a perfect amount clinging to the tip, before you bring it to your lips. The anticipation builds with the scent of garlic and herbs wafting up. 

You barely pause to savor the moment before you declare, “Some people say the first bite of pizza is the best, but I disagree.” You dunk it back into the ranch and take another, this time bigger than the first, “The second bite is really where it’s at.” Since when did you become Dave Portnoy?

Javier watches with amusement as you delight over your dinner. “Go on now, after you,” you nod, continuing to work on your pizza like a starving dog. You watch as he delicately dunks his pizza into the ranch, and like a baby bird, takes a small bite. You study his expression, a mix of curiosity and amusement, as he carefully chews. His face gives nothing away, a poker face if you ever saw one, until he finally delivers his verdict, “Can’t say it’s my favorite.”

“What?” you gasp, half in disbelief, half in jest. You playfully nudge him, your hand reaching out to liberate the neglected ranch from his box. “Let me save this from your indifference,” you tease, claiming the ranch for your own. The banter feels easy, much like it did when he called in the other night. 

“So tell me, Javier,” he stops you “You can call me Javi,” he says. 

“Javi,” you smile, picking at a tomato on your second slice. “What made you want to call in the other night?” 

He looks at you as you bring the tomato to your mouth, and lets his gaze linger on your lips. You notice. 

“That’s a good question. Um,” he says, taking another bite before continuing, his elbows on his thighs, staring out into the street. “Truthfully, I was a little drunk, and a lot alone. I think I just wanted someone to talk to.” 

“I get that,” you acknowledge. 

“What? You probably talk to dozens of people every day,” he responds, turning to face you this time. 

"False. I listen to dozens of people every day, but I don’t really get to talk. At least, not about things that matter, not truly." He gives you a long look, then nods, understanding etched into his features. He doesn’t pry further. 

A comfortable silence settles between you as you both work on finishing your pizzas.

"What about you?" you finally break the silence.

"What about me?" he echoes, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"I spilled my plans for the night, my glamorous date with Murphy. What's on your agenda?" you ask, leaning forward slightly. His tight bicep muscles press up against your arm.

"This," he gestures broadly to the city around you, wrapped in the open night. Then, with a sheepish grin, he adds, "Well, actually, I was planning to go home and watch Paddington 2."

You laugh hard enough to let out a little snort. He looks at you with affectionate eyes, like you’re the cutest thing he’s seen in a while. 

“Paddington 2? Like, the bear movie?” you manage between chuckles.

“Yep. I cried through the entire thing the first time I saw it. It made me want to be a better man.” 

“I see, well I’ll have to take your word for it, I’ve never seen it.” 

"Do you want to come over and watch it?" he proposes, the question hanging in the air. It’s a bold move, especially since you've only just met, but there’s an earnestness in his invitation that makes you pause, considering.

"Only if we can swing by and say hi to Murphy on the way," you quip, bumping your shoulder against his lightly.

“Deal,” he says with a wink. 

++++

As the saying goes, you make plans and god laughs. 

It's almost as if you could have, perhaps even should have, anticipated this turn of events. 

Paddington 2 might as well have been code for want to come over and fuck? 

The energy crackling between you two is undeniable, magnetic. His blend of wit, handsomeness, and confident charm weaves an irresistible allure, drawing you in closer with every word, every glance. 

It's one of those rare, electric connections that you read about or see in movies, but seldom experience in real life. Yet here it is, unfolding in real-time, a reminder that sometimes the most memorable moments are those you never see coming. You rarely see yourself as the main character, but tonight you feel like one. 

In the narrow stairwell, his hips press firmly against yours, your back against the cold wall, arms pinned above your head. His lips find yours with an intensity that leaves no room for hesitation, a crash of desire against desire. You surrender to the moment, tilting your pelvis into his, a plea for more. 

The world around you is a blur; it's just the two of you, enveloped in a haze of passion. His hands, desperate and eager, fumble for his keys—a brief interruption in your heated exchange as he struggles to unlock the door without breaking the heat of your gaze, the connection of your lips only momentarily severed. The anticipation builds with each fumbled attempt, heightening the intensity as you eventually enter his apartment and he has you pressed up against the door.

His lips trail from yours down the razor edge of your jaw, the hallow of your throat, over your collarbones, and down the valley of your still-clothed chest. “Javi,” you moan, and he responds with a groan into your chest. He looks up at you through his gorgeous lashes, “Can I take this off, Cariño?” 

“Yes, yeah — shit, yes, please.” 

He makes quick work of your shirt and assists it over your head, before returning his lips to your soft skin and working to undo your bra at the same time. “God damn” he mumbles under his breath, and you can’t help but feel the warmth rush to your chest and cheeks, “so pretty.” 

You can’t even remember the last time you were touched like this, nonetheless kissed. Your skin erupts in goosebumps as he makes his tongue trail over one of your nipples, the other being teased slightly between his fingers. The sensation causes you to tilt your head back in ecstasy and you let out a soft moan. “Oh, yeah? You like it when I do that, baby?” You nod your head in response. “Use your words.” 

“Yes, oh god — feels so good.” 

“That’s better.” 

You bring both of your hands to the waistband of his denim and pull him in closer to you, close enough to feel his hard cock, desperate to be touched. He brings his hands to grip your hair, baring your throat to him. He forces your legs apart with his knee, shoving it against your core. You begin to slowly grind on the denim. 

“Want more?” 

“Fuck, yes — ” you whimper with another grind against him. He kisses you again, one hand tightly gripping your hip and the other wrapped in your hair. You cling to him, arms wrapped around his middle until you drop them to find his belt buckle. His lips find yours once more, and he sucks the bottom one into his mouth before biting it and letting go.

He steps back, and you work to remove the rest of your clothing and shoes. You shimmy your pants over your thighs, taking your underwear with you. He thought you were beautiful from the moment he turned around and saw you, but seeing you standing in front of him, chest heaving, bare and perfect just for him, is another story. He slides his pants and underwear off in one go, kicking them off the side along with his boots.

He only gives you a moment to admire his form, cock hard and thick, the tip of it red and weeping, before he surges forward and kisses you with new passion. He licks the seam of your lips before forcing it open with his tongue, swallowing every one of your moans like they’re a gift just for him.

When you both can’t breathe, he pulls back and peppers kiss down your neck once more before he sucks a hickey into your neck, eliciting a breathy moan from you. He smirks against your skin and moves to the expanse of your shoulder, finding a new spot to bite and suck. 

He forces his thigh between yours again, pushing the expanse of it right up against your bare pussy. You moan and cling to him, once again riding his thigh. “You gonna come on my thigh, baby?” He questions against your skin, feeling your shoulders shudder from his breath ghosting along your neck. He tightens his grip on your waist and rocks you forward, “Use me. Want to feel you soak me,” he hums, kissing your neck. You’re lost in the haze of your arousal, chasing the friction you so desperately need. 

“Answer me, Cariño.” 

“Y-yes.” You breathe,  tightening your grip on him. You grind against him more, faster, harder. “Want it so bad.”  And fuck, you do, you need it so bad but you’re not sure you can get there from just this. 

“What do you want, beautiful?” He questions with another bite to your skin. “Do you want to come on my thigh like the good little slut I know you are?” You whine at the filth of his words, the warmth of his praise causing your belly to tighten. He tightens his grip on your hips and guides you faster on his leg, his fingers digging into your skin, hard enough you hope you bruise. 

“Show me how pretty you are when you come, Cariño — make a mess of me,” Your body seizes up and you throw your head back and let out a guttural moan. The spot where your pussy rests against his thigh gets wetter. When you tilt your head back up, his eyes are what throws you over the edge. He holds your gaze as he watches you come for him, on him, because of him. “Fuck, that was gorgeous,” he moans, holding you steady as you come down from your orgasm. 

“Bed. Now,” he demands, guiding you through the hall and to his bedroom. 

You fall back onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress with a small oof, your breasts bouncing with the movement. He holds his heavy cock in hand by the base as he gently strokes himself, and watches as you part your legs wide open for him and finger yourself.

He continues to work himself while staring at your tight, slick hole, dripping just for him. His eyes go impossibly dark as he watches your fingers saw in and out, you’re really quite the sight.

“Shit, Cariño. Look at your little pussy,” his voice in between a whine and a whimper, as he steps forward between your legs and begins to position himself at your entrance. One hand on your knee, the other holding himself, he presses the head of his cock into you, making you moan, his tip alone is a stretch you’re unfamiliar with — it’s intense but good.  

He’s not trying to taunt you, not really. “Just wanna make sure you’re nice and ready to take this fat cock,” he says, pressing just the mushroom head in and out of you. The slow drag of it is excruciating, enough for you to let out a plea of please fuck me. “Look so good like this, baby. Can feel you sucking me in, she wants it bad, doesn’t she?” 

You nod, “More, Javi. Need to feel you inside of me, please,” you plead, holding your thighs behind your knees, spreading yourself wider for him, giving him full access to your cunt. 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, thrusting the full length of him into you, and ohhhhmyfuck. 

Your pussy walls flutter and tighten around him, and he lets out a wrecked groan. He draws his hips back and slams that back into you with enough thrust that your tits bounce. His thrusts are hard, but slow, giving you time to adjust to his size. He’s quick to pick up the pace, causing you to sob in pleasure, broken moans leaving your lips as he knocks the wind out of you with each snap of his hips. 

He draws himself nearly out, his cock glistening with your slick, and he grabs both of your hips to hold you steady as he fucks into you. “Look at the mess we’re making together, Cariño. So fucking beautiful, you’re taking this cock so well.” You’re starting to realize that he’s a smooth talker both in and out of bed. 

You wail as he picks up his speed, panting and grunting, groaning as he watches the thin skin of your pussy stretch around his girth. He releases one of his hands from your hips and brings the pad of his thumb to the swollen clit between your folds, and begins to rub tight circles. 

“So tight, baby, little cunt’s trying to make me come, isn’t she?” He groans, his pace slowly slightly, his stomach muscles tightening and his jaw clenched shut. 

“Want you to, want you to fill this hole up with all of your come. Want to feel you drip out of me, need to feel you.” Your words spur him on more, and he continues working your clit, his cock thrusting in and out of you, “oh god, please, please, please.” You’re not usually one to beg, but something about him has it pouring out of you. 

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up, baby? I will if you come with me,” he says, an intensity, an urgency behind his voice. You’re so close, you think you’ll be able to come with him, but before you have the chance to get there, you watch as he squeezes his eyes shut to try and collect himself, but he’s too close, nearly over the edge of his orgasm. His cock starts to swell and his movements get a little sloppy. 

“Come in me, Javi. Want to feel you,” you moan, your voice a seductive whisper, and that does it.

His hips stutter, “Fuck, Cariño,” he groans, his voice a wreck, as he buries himself to the hilt inside of you and starts to throb ropes of his warm spend in you. There’s so much that it spills out of you and down your asscheek. 

“Oh such a messy, pretty pussy,” he groans, admiring the way your cunt looks stuffed full of him, the glisten of your release and his on his cock, “Milking me so good.” 

“Gonna make you come for me again beautiful,” he says, cock still spearing you, throbbing and pulsing as he collects some of his spend on his fingers and brings it to the needy button between your legs. It doesn’t take much to get you there, and within seconds you’re on the brink of your orgasm. 

The warmth that pools in your belly grows and radiates through your limbs until your whole body feels tingly and your vision goes white. 

“Oh my god, Javi, I’m coming,” you wail, a blubbering mess of pleasure, until you’re drowning in the sea of your orgasm. 

“Can feel you squeezing me, sweet girl,” he groans, both out of pleasure and a little bit of over-stimulation on his already spent cock, “So. Fucking. Pretty. Such a good girl,” he says as he works you through the last of your orgasm. After you come down from your high, he gently pulls out of you, and a little trail of his come follows and spills out onto the sheets below. 

“Jesus, Javi. That was something else,” you say, blissed out and thoroughly fucked. You nestle up into his chest like it’s easy, it comes naturally, a movement you don’t even question. He wraps his arm around you and plants a soft kiss on the top of your head in response.

“Can I say something?” He asks, and you look up at him a little worried. Waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“I’d buy the fancy ranch for you.”  

END

If you like this, please consider a reblog. <3

Trying a thing where I don't use a tag list to see how it goes. To be notified when I post fics, follow @katiexpunkupdates

END A/N: the line she gives Javier in response to knowing what he means in the first part of the fic is adapted from a poem. I wrote it down, but forgot to name the author. So credit to the author, whoever it is.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

sneaking around

Summary: You're the nanny. Dave York is your married boss and if he couldn't fuck you, he'd find something to fuck you with.

Pairing: Dave York x fem. reader

Rating: E

Wordcount:

Warnings: infidelity, smut (oral f receiving, penetrative sex) Food play (no cucumbers were harmed in the writing of this fic), dirty talk, sneaking around

A/N: Look, this is unhinged but I've been thinking about for a week so you're welcome I guess.

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics an turn on notifications to get notified for new fic updates

The sun wasn’t even up as you stepped into the kitchen. The coffee was already brewing, thanks to Dave’s strict morning routine of waking up at 4:30 am. He woke up, went for a run, started the coffee machine and then made his way back upstairs to shower and get ready for the day, all while his wife still slept, unbothered by her hardworking husband. 

Of course this morning routine left time for a quickie here or there too.

You opened the dishwasher, starting to unload it when you heard footsteps coming down the stairs. 

Looking up when you heard him enter the kitchen you gave him a small smile, before you continued with your work. 

Two years ago you had started as a babysitter for both York kids until Dave offered you a job as a live in nanny about six months ago when you lost your former job and place to live after your boyfriend broke up with you. 

Things…. Escalated quickly once Dave had you under his roof 24/7.

You felt his eyes on you as you finished unloading the dishwasher. A glance at the clock over the stove told you that it would be around fifteen minutes until Carol’s alarm went off and you had to get the girls ready for school. 

Turning around you found Dave leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand which he held out to you. You took it with a quiet thanks, taking a sip, your eyes wandering over his broad form. 

He was fully dressed save for his suit jacket and shoes. Wearing dark blue slacks, his bright blue dress shirt tucked into his pants. No tie. You felt yourself shudder seeing him wearing the belt he had used the night before to restrain your arms behind your back as he fucked you from behind in the en suite bathroom while his wife was sleeping peacefully in their shared bed. 

She (and you) didn’t know she only slept so soundly because Dave slipped a sleeping pill into her wine every evening. 

And you knew you should be ashamed for yourself, sleeping with your boss. A married man and father of two. But it seemed like every moment he touched you left your brain loosing the capability to think of any consequences. 

Your eyes did not leave his as you drank the coffee, handing him the mug back. He set it down on the counter next to him, tilting his head to the side. 

His eyes glanced on the clock beside you, before he approached you, making you take a step back his lips crashing down on yours as he helped you sit up on the counter behind you. You released a shaky breath, your arms coming to wrap behind his neck, your legs parting for him to make space for him. His tongue slipped into your mouth and he groaned, his hands running down your back, his hands squeezing your ass. 

You were already dressed for the day. A dark red sweater dress ending just above your knees, no underwear as always like he asked of you. You wrapped your legs around his back and he parted from your lips with a tsk. 

„Already dressed for the day. Can’t make a mess of these pants,“ he hummed, taking a step back. 

You whined like a child, having looked forward to a quickie to start this day right.

His hands let go of you and he brought his arms back, slowly pushing the sleeves of his dress shirt up, revealing his tanned arms.

„You’ve been such a good girl for me last night. I think you deserve a little treat,“ he smirked, before he went down on his knees, his hands pushing your thighs further apart and your dress up, his mouth diving in, almost attacking your drenched pussy. 

„Oh fuck,“ you whimpered quietly, your hands flat on the counter behind you as you arched your back. You closed your eyes, your lips parted, breathing deeply as Dave’s tongue drank from you like you were the sweetest nectar. 

„Dave… please…“ you begged, his lips closing around your clit beginning to suck. 

You were panting, dying to let your fingers run through his hair, but you knew the rules. And even though you were dying to break them, generally enjoying the punishment that would follow at some point you were so fucking close to coming you just wanted to be his good girl and…

You gasped in disappointment when his lips pulled away just as you were on the brink of your orgasm. You could still feel it in your veins as it slowly started ebbing away and you opened your eyes finding Dave now standing between your legs, his mouth wet with your slickness as he looked down at you. 

„What… I was so close,“ you whined and he pursed his lips. Amused.  

„Gonna fuck you,“ he mumbled and you peaked up, sitting yourself up, your hands coming down to unbuckle his belt. 

„What do you think you’re doing?“ He asked and you frowned. 

„You said you’d fuck me?“ You said. Confused. 

„Oh baby. Not with my cock…“ he said, turning away from you to grab something and your eyes widened when you found him holding a cucumber. It was at least 12 inches and you gulped.

You were just horny enough to not question him when he let it slip between your slit, rubbing it over your clit. 

You didn’t know he had the idea for a while. The kids were allergic to cucumber so Carol was the only one who’d buy and eat them. 

He looked up at you, finding your eyes watching him before you gave him a small nod and his eyes dropped down, watching as he slowly pushed the cucumber (which of course he had washed the night before, having planned this for this morning) into your dripping pussy. 

Fuck, he wished he had his phone on him, wanting to film it so he could rewatch it. 

You both were watching as he slowly began to fuck you with the cucumber. It felt different, cold, but fuck you were just horny enough to not care. 

„Look at you, my little slut. Letting me fuck you with a cucumber. Such a filthy girl,“ he praised you, his voice low, fucking you a little faster. 

You were now looking at him as he watched what he was doing to you, his eyes focused, his whole face tense. His lips were parted as he watched himself fuck you with the vegetable. 

He brought his other hand between your legs, his fingers beginning to circle your clit. You moaned quietly when you heard the alarm upstairs, knowing it was the one of his wife and that it was only minutes until she’d be down here to get herself some coffee. 

„Cum for me before my fucking wife finds me fucking the nanny with a cucumber,“ he snarled and you exploded, biting your lip to keep quiet as your orgasm hummed through your body. 

„Such a good girl for me,“ Dave praised you, dropping his lips against yours before he slowly pulled the cucumber out. Amused he looked at it, slick with your cum, bringing it up to his lips, licking off a long strip, humming in satisfaction. You were still trying to normalise your breathing when you heard the alarm upstairs being turned off. He turned away from you, dropping the cucumber in the sink, returning with a paper cloth to clean you up before he helped you down, kissing you softly. 

„Go on and get the girls ready. I’ll make breakfast,“ he whispered and you gave him a shy smile before you turned away from him and walked upstairs. 

And thirty minutes later as the family sat at the breakfast table and you were finishing the lunch boxes for the girls, you caught Dave’s eyes, his lip between his teeth before you both watched his wife cut down the cucumber for her breakfast he head fucked you with not even an hour ago. 

[pedroshotwifey]

Know Better

Pairing: Daddy!Dave York x bratty!fem!reader

Word count: 1.2k

tags/warnings: heavy daddy kink, spanking, dom dave york, sub reader, vaginal fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanking, brat tamer dave york, dirty talk, embarrassment

Summary: You disobey Dave and he has no choice but to punish you for it.

A/N: Here's a surprise Dave fic that nobody asked for because I got pissed off on vacation. Also, I saw this as a sugar daddy/brat kind of situation, but you can obviously imagine it any way you want!

*****

“Daveee!”

You whine loudly from where you’re perched and on a pool float, watching him as he makes another business call. He shoots you a sharp look that should be warning enough for you to stop, but you’ve never been one to learn your lesson the easy way.

You know it’s an important call since he paused his lounging with you to answer it. The two of you have been sitting by the pool for a few hours now, not really talking, but just enjoying each other’s presence as he read a book in his chair, and you laid out on your long float. Still, you can’t help but try to get his attention solely on you again. 

“Daveeeee,” you moan again, stretching his way. 

He turns to look at you again, gaze fiery as he points to the phone and mouths at you to quit. You should probably stop while you’re ahead, but you don’t. With all the work he’s been doing lately, he promised he would be spending this weekend with you, and only you.

You put on a heavy pout and pull yourself out of the pool to walk over to him. You can’t hear what’s being said on the other side of the phone, but it’s not like you’re trying too hard as you walk up to him and throw your arms around his neck. You nuzzle a couple of kisses to his clean-shaven jaw and whisper in his unoccupied ear. 

“Come back, Daddy. I want you over here.” 

He moves his hand to your waist, and you think for a second that you’ve won him over—quicker than you thought you would as well. But then he squeezes. Hard. Hard enough for you to attempt to get out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Tell, but I’m going to have to give you a call back.”

Your eyes widen at the grip and the tone he speaks with. And that name…you know that name. You know they must be talking about…

Shit. That’s what you’re in. Deep fucking shit.

“Yes sir, thank you. Bye.”

He hangs up the phone and sets it slowly on the table next to him. His hand comes up to grip your forearm tightly and he leans down until his face is less than an inch from yours. 

“What the fuck did I tell you about interrupting my phone calls?” he demands in a cold tone. 

You shiver in his hold as shameful tears start to sting the backs of your eyes. You’ve never heard him talk to you in such a way. Sure, he’s been firm at times, maybe agitated with your bratty attitude, but never downright angry at you.

“Dave, I-I didn’t mea—“

“Inside,” he growls. “Now. And I don’t know who the fuck you’re calling ‘Dave’ right now.” 

He lets you go with a small but forceful push toward the door. You know what happens now. Again, he’s dabbled in the idea of punishment, but so far, he’s never actually had a good reason to act on it. 

You take a trembling step inside and head toward the bedroom, Dave hot on your heels. You don’t even have a chance to peel out of your bathing suit before he grabs your arm again and drags you over his lap as he takes a seat on the bed. You yelp as he pulls your bikini bottom down, exposing your lower half. 

“I take it you understand how important that call was.”

He waits for you to nod softly before continuing, one hand rubbing your ass in a careful motion. 

“So you understand why I’m doing this. ” 

You nod again, holding in a sniffle. 

He doesn’t wait any longer before lifting his hand and then bringing it down hard on your bare ass. You grasp the sheets in front of you and yelp in pain. Your skin is still damp from getting out of the pool, so the smack hurts even more than it would normally.

You bite your lip to hide any more sounds as he quickly does it again, your body jolting with the force of it.

“Little fucking brat. Think you can just have all of my time.”

You sniff, a rogue tear running down your cheek. 

“But, Daddy—“

Another smack, one that makes you practically scream comes down, and then another right after.

“Brats and attention whores don’t get to talk back to their daddies,” Dave barks back. He rubs your stinging ass again, and you flinch even at that contact. 

“You have three more.” He tells you, no gentleness in his tone. “Count.”

You nod and brace yourself for the next hit, but it doesn’t come. Instead, you feel him reach his hand lower to rub across your wet folds. A dark chuckle comes from above you as he runs his middle finger over your clit. 

“Fucking slut,” he breathes through a laugh. 

It’s only then, once you relax, that he spanks you again, this time with enough force to cause a welt. You scream out and squirm in his lap. 

“Count.” 

“O-One,” you shake. 

He rubs your pussy again, roughly smearing your slick. He then brings that same hand up and delivers another swift slap.

“Two,” you say, tears running freely now. 

And again, his hand is back, one finger prodding your hole and making you moan despite yourself. 

But then he retracts it and winds up to send the last spank onto the sensitive flesh of your ass. 

“Three!” You scream as your body jolts.

Even though you can still feel his anger, Dave relaxes a bit at your pain and obvious regret. His hand goes down to your cunt again, letting a finger slide fully in this time. His thumb goes to your clit, rubbing tight circles as a coil starts to wind in your abdomen. 

“Mm, Daddy, please,��� you beg. It feels so good. You never thought pain could contrast pleasure so nicely. 

“Yeah, you want Daddy to let your slut pussy come on his hand?” 

“Mm, yes please, Daddy.”

You keeps working you, letting you get closer and closer, your toes start curling as you grasp onto the sheets and then—

Then he pulls out. You whine sharply in protest.

“Daddy, no!”

You shut up as he spanks your pussy, a wet smacking sound coming from between your messy thighs, which tremble with the rest of your body at the feeling. The build up is gone, and you’re left feeling betrayed and embarrassed. Not to mention with a sore ass. 

“No. Bad girls don’t get treats.”

He helps you up, your bikini bottoms still around your knees as he stands up.

“Go get in the shower. Dinner will be ready when you get out.” He turns to leave, but then turns back to you after a couple of steps. “And don’t you fucking dare touch that little cunt. I’ll know if you do, and you won’t be coming for a long time if you choose to disobey me again.”

He leaves the room without another word, leaving you needy and fucking furious. But you get in the shower anyway, and you don’t risk touching yourself—even though you really fucking want to. You know better than to disobey Daddy, after all. 

******

Hi, babes! Sorry I've been a bit off the radar recently. I've been on vacation (as previously mentioned) but will be coming back tmw. TTF updates and requested fics will be posted regularly once I get back home!

[pimosworld]

Pimos world updates

Life has been a little crazy as of late and I wanted to give you all an update. I’m slowly chipping away at my list of wips and I realize I love to bite off more than I can chew but I don’t leave things unfinished so I’m working on it. I’ve been procrastinating by writing Joel Miller one shots so it’s not allll bad.

Unrequited- Santiago Garcia x f!reader x Frankie Morales

I wanted to give the finale my all so hopefully it will be done being edited by Friday.

The ties that bind-Dave York x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Next chapter update April 15th

The sun and the Moon- Moon Boys x f!reader

I was feeling uninspired with this for a long time but got a sudden burst of energy so chapter 2 will be posted sometime within the next week.

Delta Breeze-Joel Miller x f!reader

I got such a great response to Dog Days so I’m working on a smutty one shot…stay tuned.

If you all have any questions or just want to chat about my upcoming projects my inbox is always open. I’m always down to hear your thoughts no matter the level of spice, angst or comedy I’m open to it all.

[psychedelic-ink]

bound for carnage (i)

pairing: dave york x plus size fem!reader

genre: smut, romance, angst

word count: 4.4k

summary: Dave lost everything: His divorce has been finalized. He sees his daughters only on the weekends. He has nothing except for the horrific job he keeps on doing just so he can give his children the best life that he can in such conditions.

But then, well, he meets you.

He tells himself it's nothing serious. It's clear that you like him and he flirts a little, some harmless fun. Never once did he think of taking you back to his place, he knows that if you seep through the cracks of his armor he's as good as gone.

But what happens when the little paper he receives has your name written inside of it instead of someone else?

chapter warnings: dave kidnaps reader (reader is blindfolded and tied up for a while) canon typical violence, +18 themes, nothing explicit in this chapter, dave having dark thoughts, POV switch, swearing, dave pressing a gun to readers head (but he doesn't harm reader or anything)

requests open for pedro pascal characters, moon knight & peter parker 💌

main masterlist | playlist | read on ao3 | series masterlist

prev / next

Dave doesn’t allow himself many things. 

Where many people with a similar lifestyle as him would indulge, he didn’t. He likes to think that this particular habit he has sets him apart from the rest. It makes his life easier, and makes him better at his job. When he’s having a bad day, Dave doesn’t try to find the solution at the end of a bottle, he doesn’t go to have his favorite meal just to put a smile on his face.  He does none of that. He never had. Not even when his wife left him, and not even when he lost custody of his daughters to only see them on weekends. He endured it all. The only thing that Dave did allow himself was his apology to Carol but that was more for the sake of her rather than his. 

But after a year of loneliness, a year of gazing into the eyes of death over and over again, his armor begins to crack. 

Dave allows himself his favorite meal. He allows himself a drink or two, maybe even the whole bottle if he feels like it. He allows himself to fuck the women that seem interested in him. He decides that he isn’t human anymore. He’s an incarnation of evil and everything rotten in the world. The grim reaper in the flesh. He assumes that this is his punishment for everything he’s done and now, he’s cursed to live an empty life. 

He thought about quitting his job a couple of times. Leaving this world of bloodshed behind in order to get a normal job, something that pays enough to put both her daughters into a decent enough college. Some naive part of him believed that if he did quit, his life would return to normal. He could have his family again. The job he had at the CIA had a decent enough pay.

But, like many things in life, it isn’t that simple. 

Dave needs the money. He needs it to pay child support, which he does happily, his daughters deserve the best but that means he can’t quit. 

So he continues to do what he does best, killing whoever was written on that tiny piece of paper. 

The only thing that brings his life some form of normalcy is when he gets his morning coffee from a coffee house near to his apartment. The coffee is subpar, he’s positive that he can make a better one at home, but the average testing beverage isn’t why he goes there. 

He goes there to see you. 

You’re ridiculously kind to him, having his coffee ready before he even arrives. You talk to him, laugh at his jokes– which, he thought, were a bit too dark to make the first thing in the morning but he enjoys hearing your laughter nonetheless. You just make his day a little bit better with just being in it. When he talks to you he remembers what it's like to be human, he remembers the thrill of conversing with another person that’s unaware of his many many flaws. 

After months of seeing each other every morning, his conversations with you goes from one minute to ten. When there’s no one else behind him, he allows himself to listen to your worries, your dreams, the things you want to accomplish– You’re full of life. It’s a complete contrast from those who beg him for their lives, he enjoys this change in atmosphere.

But after a while Dave notices the change in your attitude. You start to look at him differently, your eyes glassy and dazed. He catches your shy looks while you prepare his coffee, he feels the lingering touches against his skin, he sees the way your chest stutters when he walks through the door. Sometimes you put a chocolate croissant in his tray, saying that it’s on the house, which he takes with a smile of gratitude. 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t relish in it. 

In return, Dave teases you constantly. He watches like a hawk as you fluster at his flirtatious jokes, he reels at the way you frown when he talks about his late night endeavors with others. It’s all a game for him. This, he indulges in. Dave’s confident that this harms no one: You get an adrenaline rush when talking to him and he gets a nice ego boost first thing in the morning. It’s an innocent transaction. He never actually gave you any signs that this relationship was anything other than friendly, a mere customer employee relation. 

Dave was always a good liar. It's as easy as breathing, and if he laces enough truth into them, anyone would believe him, even himself. When he stares at his reflection in the morning, beads of water mixed with facewash dripping down the frame of his face, threatening to burn his eyes, he tells himself that this is nothing other than innocent fun, and he believes it. Dave goes there only to have his fill of attention, he never intends on doing anything with you, not even a casual fuck. He thinks that it would be cruel for him to do that. You deserve better. 

He only realizes his lie as night falls, when the only thing brightening up his bedroom is the lights of the city. It’s a horrific truth he discerns when he’s stroking his cock, thoughts of your sweet pussy and plush tighs wrapped around him invade his tortured mind. 

Dave comes with your name falling from his lips. 

The next day he forgets– Or rather he doesn’t think about it. Dave brews his coffee at home that morning and heads for the door, he sighs upon seeing an envelope laying idly on his doormat that says “Go Away” with an annoyed looking cat. He smiles everytime he sees it, reminded of the time his daughter’s gifted to him on father’s day. Dave’s smile wavers, however, when he picks the letter up and closes the door with the push of his heel, heading back to the kitchen he peels it open. Pulling out the piece of paper, his eyes quickly glances over the name. His eyes go wide and his mouth becomes incredibly dry. 

You’re his next victim. 

You don’t remember much. 

You remember it being night, you remember your speedy steps as you tried to arrive at your apartment as soon as possible, but the rest is lost to you. Thickly swallowing around the knot in your throat, you wiggle your arms and legs. The harsh material of the ropes digs into your skin and a silent sob escapes your parched lips. Your vision has also been taken away from you, a blindfold snug around your damp eyes. Usually you’re careful after a late night shift. You don't listen to music and you always have your keys sticking out from between your knuckles. When someone follows you, you could feel the unwanted gazes crawling up your spine and act accordingly, either taking shelter in a gas station or calling up a friend. But this time…this time you felt nothing. You didn’t even see anyone. The mystery only adds to your fear and confusion, you want to go home. 

A door creaks open, the sound makes your heart nearly leap out from your throat. Your palms are sweaty. Fear coates your tongue as the taste of bile. Your head turns towards the source of the noise and hoping that the ropes had loosen up, you tug at them again. Much to your disappointment, they hadn’t. 

Heavy footsteps inch closer and closer, you push back the chair along with yourself. The wood skimmed across the surface of the floor, the sound makes your skin crawl. 

Your journey is short lived, however, when a wall stops you from moving further back. 

The steps come to a halt right in front of you. The man’s warmth overwhelms you, his presence sending jolts of fear even if you can’t see him. He smells like pine and cinnamon. His knees brush against your own as he stoops down, you gasp when his knuckles come in contact with your skin. They skate along the frame of your face, goosebumps rising across your skin as he presses a thumb against your bottom lip. The tenderness confuses you. If this was any other situation you would think that this person cared for you. Adrenaline rushing through your veins, you violently shake your head to remove his hand from your skin. 

“Who are you?” you’re startled by your own question, you look down but see only darkness thanks to the blindfold. “Please let me go,” 

The man doesn’t say a word, instead he stands up, moving away from you. Your cheek feels cold. His silence unnerves you. 

“I have…money,” You don’t. “Just– I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” 

Complete silence. 

You want him– No, you need him to speak. You’re scared, a tremble raking across your body as a tear gets caught by the blindfold, the fabric soaking up the wetness. You’re in a state of loss. Was he going to kill you? Rape you? Who was he? A customer? A random person in the street? You still have so much you want to do. Shit– 

You think about what else to say. His gaze burns into your skin, your heart trembles. Why won’t he react? Pressing your knees together, you think about the people that might take notice of your absence and go to the police. You just moved so you didn’t know a lot of people, your coworkers would only notice that you’re gone in the morning. Your eyes widen underneath the blindfold as another name pops into your mind. 

“Dave…” 

You said it silently. It was barely audible to your own ears. But he hears you. The air lays thick against your shivering skin, something changes in the atmosphere. You can’t quite pinpoint what it is and you’re not sure if you want to find out. 

The eerie silence continues and you rest the back of your head against the wall, breathing heavily. It was human nature to fear the unknown. You want to know what’s going to happen to you, you hope that knowing will calm your nerves but whoever this person is, he didn’t seem like the talkative type. Fear still thrums in your ears and as a response your mind drifts off to things that eases you, one of those things being Dave York. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time and it took you an equally short amount of it to grow attached to him. You realize that you hadn’t seen him this morning. Now you wish that you have, you will probably never see him again. 

“Please let me go,” you beg again. “I won’t tell anyone, really. If you don’t you’ll have to deal with the police, my friends won’t let this go you know, they’ll be looking for me,” 

He scoffs. Actually scoffs. Your blood freezes. This man is toying with you. He had probably watched you for days, he knew you basically had no one which made you a perfect target. A sob makes its way out of your throat, your head falls, defeated. 

“Please,” you repeat. “Please, please, please–” 

“Shut up! Just fucking shut up already–” 

A shallow scream rips from your throat as you feel the blunt tip of a gun pressing against your forehead. You didn’t even hear him move, just how high up in the food chain was he?

He presses the gun further into your skin and tears fill your eyes, your bottom lip trembles. The cold metal stings as it leaves a circular mark. Chest heaving, a whimper follows. He’s going to kill you. You can feel the claws of death curling around your shoulders, it surrounds your very being. 

“Why did it have to be you?” he sneers, sounding almost hurt. “Why, among the seven-fucking-billion people on earth did it have to be you?” 

So this person did know you. 

You part your lips to speak but only a dry, choked out noise follows. You’re too scared. The gun weighs heavy against your damp skin, you’re unbelievably cold. He sounded so angry, but beneath that anger you could hear hurt. Closing your lips, your nostrils flare as the gears in your head begin to turn. This man knows you so this must mean you know him too. He says nothing else, only breathes heavily. His scent floods your nostrils, what was it again? Pine and cinnamon. It’s a scent that you’re familiar with and you follow it. 

Ignoring the threat of death biting into your skin, you imagine an open door and walk through it. The scent guides you to the coffee house, looking up you see that the sun has barely risen. Noticing a hurried movement, your eyes shift back down. You see yourself rushing to open up the shop. You feel as if floating above the concrete as you follow a past image of yourself. Hands placed on the glass, you watch. Soon customers begin to arrive and you see Dave, he talks to you, smiles at you. 

Suddenly you’re behind the cashier register, talking to him, smiling as you think if he likes you back or not. For a moment you forget everything, it’s only you and him. You look up, but as a familiar scent brings you back to your senses your eyes go wide. Everything narrows down. The fear is back. Your head spins but you’re frozen in place. He stares you up and down with a raise of an eyebrow. 

“Are you alright?” 

His voice. Despite lacking the anger, the sweet tremor of it is familiar. Your lips part as you look up to him, the background has faded into a blur, the scent pushes you down into a sense of unspeakable darkness. 

“It’s you,” 

You’re not aware that you’ve actually muttered the words out loud until the gun disappears from your skin. You count two steps and assume that he’s backing away. 

“Dave?” you call out just to be sure, voice weak and clipped. “Is it really you?” 

“It is,” 

“You– You kidnapped me?” 

You sound more surprised than afraid. The air crackles between the two of you. Signs of a storm approaching. You hear him breathe in and out, you imagine him counting to five before speaking. When he does, he talks softly, slowly, as if he’s afraid that you’ll run, even if it’s impossible at this given moment. 

“Yes,” 

“Why?” 

“It’s…complicated,” 

“Are you going to kill me?” 

The silence confirms to you that he is. The fear comes crawling back, it sinks into your skin and circulates your heart, your breath falters. 

“Look,” his voice pulls you back. “I’m going to untie you now, just…stay calm so I can explain. Can you promise me that?” 

You nod, thinking that this is your chance. Again, without making a sound, he approaches you and tugs off the blindfold. He kneels down before you can lay your eyes upon him. He starts to untie the ropes around your ankles. At first your vision is blurry, rapidly blinking, you wait for it to return to normal. Dave moves to your back, you feel his fingers grazing against the exposed skin around your wrists. Your pulse quickens. Before you’re free you quickly examine your surroundings. You expected to be in a dungeon, or a dark basement that you’ve seen multiple times in horror films. Instead, you realize that you’re in his living room. He owns a simple decor, nothing fancy or extra. You take notes of the dark green plastic chair you’re currently sitting on, the vase on top of a coffee table with sharp edges, the red comfortable looking couch. 

The ropes fall to the carpeted part floor and with that, you spring into action. Heart racing in your chest, adrenaline ringing in your ears, you grab the vase and point it to him. He doesn’t seem surprised, only disappointed. 

“I told you to stay calm,” his tone is threateningly low, enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You promised,” 

“I didn’t, I nodded,” 

He takes a step forward and without even thinking you smash the vase against the table. The sound gets absorbed by the carpet, glass shards flying everywhere, leaving you with a decent enough weapon. Your brows pull together when he doesn’t even flinch. Dave only stares, an amused glint shimmering in his eyes. Your stomach rolls, he looks like he’s holding back a chuckle.

“Smart girl,” he hums, stopping in his tracks. He tilts his head. “That’s an oddly fast reaction for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on,” 

You raise the broken vase, the sharp edges directed to his neck. Tears flood your eyes as your chest lurches. There was a reason why you knew you had to move fast, a reason you weren’t inclined to tell a man who’s planning on killing you. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he says as if reading your mind. “Just put the vase down and we can talk about it. I’m actually trying to help you out,” 

“You’re lying,” you hiss between clenched teeth. “Why should I trust you?” 

“Because you know me,” 

The softness in his voice lulls you in a false sense of security, you take a sharp breath. 

“But I don’t. Not really,” 

“Yes you do,” he replies, raising his hands. “You know that my name is Dave. You know I’ve been through a divorce. You know I have two daughters: Molly and Alice.” A sudden chuckle falls from his lips. Your eyes follow as he takes a step forward. “You know how I like my coffee. You know where I live. You know me–” 

It’s only a split second. You lower your guard, the hand that holds the vase starting to shake. It only lasts a second before you attempt to recover but that second is all that he needs. 

Dave lunges forward, his hand quickly immobilizing yours as he gets behind you. The vase falls, the rest of it shattering. He has you in a chokehold loose enough that it allows you to breathe, but the pressure is still there. You fear that if you make any sudden movements he’ll strangle you right then and there. His chest is flushed against your back, face pressed against the side of yours. Your breathing comes in quick, shallow pants, you feel death lurking at the same place Dave is. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” he repeats. “But the people who hired me want you dead.” 

“Then why didn’t you just refuse the job?” your voice is meak, heart beating fast and short. 

“Because,” his lips move against the side of your chin. “If I hadn’t accepted it someone else would and they– Well needless to say, they would kill you,” 

You shudder. The thought of someone else other than Dave being here with you terrifies you to the core. His lips burn your skin and your stomach rolls with anxiety. Slowly you nod, deciding that you don’t have much of a choice other than to trust him. 

“I’m not going to try anything else,” you whisper. “You can let me go,” 

“Promise?” 

“Promise.” 

He laughs, his breath warm and wet against your skin. 

“You said it this time. If you try anything I won’t be as nice,” 

Tight-lipped, you take a deep breath. His voice is like molten caramel, it intoxicates you. Dave doesn’t release you right away, his lips still ghosting over your warm skin. You feel your stomach dipping at the sensation. His grip around your neck suffocates you, but despite all of that you can’t help but feel the excitement of having him so close. His chest is solid behind you, arms strong around your body. Your ears ring. 

Then he let’s go and the world around you, somewhat, returns to normal. 

You stumble forward, barely catching yourself before you fall. When you meet his gaze, Dave gestures towards the couch. You obediently take a seat but he remains standing with his arms crossed against his broad chest. 

“What now?” you ask, hugging yourself. 

This is a nightmare, it has to be. 

Dave knows he can’t complete the assignment when you utter his name. It’s so silent, barely audible, but he hears you anyway. According to you, these are your last moments, and what do you do? 

Call out for him. 

He already had his reservations about what to do with you. His mind became a mess as soon as he saw your name written on the paper with the most fancy cursive he’s ever laid his eyes on. Killing random people was easy. He didn’t know them, therefore, he lacked the emotional capacity to actually care when they cried out for their loved ones, or begged for his mercy.

However, this isn’t the case when it comes to you. It breaks his heart to see you so afraid, but also, a sick thrill strikes it at the same time. He feels elevated, yet, disgusted by what he feels watching you cowering in front of him. 

Dave’s rage comes out of nowhere. He knows that this anger is mostly directed at himself and not you. Sadly, you can’t read minds so you have no idea. To you, he’s a crazy person pressing a gun to your head. 

Ironically enough his role in your story quickly changes from crazy kidnapper to possible hero. 

He winces at the thought. He’s not a hero. Heroes didn’t think about the millions of possible ways to hurt the people that wanted you dead. Only villains did that. 

While you take a seat, his eyes linger at the shards of glass. Quick thinking indeed. This certainly isn’t your first life and death experience. His darkness grows behind him, standing tall as his shadow. The thought of what might’ve happened to you in your past makes this darkness flicker violently like an uncontrollable flame. Vivid images of hurting the people who hurt you flashes before his eyes a second time today. It feeds the fire.

“Well, we don’t have much of an option,” Dave replies nonchalantly. He became an expert in clogging up the holes in his voice so that his emotions wouldn’t show. “Do you have any idea who might want to get you killed?” 

He grits his teeth, skin taut around his cheek bones. Again, anger fills his gut. Inhaling, he forces his face to be as stoic as possible. 

You shake your head, “No…I mean, sure I probably pissed a couple of people off but I don’t think any of them would go to the lengths of hiring a hitman– You are a hitman right?” 

“More of a freelance assassin but sure basically a hitman,” 

Shit, he shouldn’t have said that. Dave sees the way terror comes rushing back with the way your eyes go wide. To calm you, he comes down to his knees, hands hovering right above your kneecaps. He meets your gaze before placing them, hoping that the gesture assures you that he doesn’t have the intention of harming you. With a sigh, Dave begins to draw languid circles with his thumbs. The way you fill your lungs up with air doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I guess this isn’t the time to be technical when it comes to terms. So, you know no one that might want to harm you. That makes my job a bit more difficult but we’ll find a way around it,” 

“I thought your job was to kill me?” 

The air between the two chills. He perceives it ghosting across his skin, the distrust you feel towards him envelopes his very being and forces him to move his hands away. However, he remains kneeling, his gaze searching yours for any hints that might indicate that you’re lying. Dave doesn’t find any but he’s positive you’re not being completely honest with him. 

“Right now my job is to protect you,” he answers, voice low as he gets up. 

“Why?” 

Dave looks down at you with a raise of an eyebrow. The tone you use for him constantly shifts between sudden bursts of bravado and brokenness. He examines your form, plush thighs pressed against one another as you look down, your breasts rising up which every long breath you take. A rush of arousal spikes from the depths of his stomach. Swallowing, he forcefully pushes the tainted thoughts back. 

“Because you’re nice and you make a decent enough cup of coffee,” 

His heart skips a beat when the living room lights up with your bittersweet laughter. For a moment, he thought he would never be able to hear that sound again. A smile tugs at his lips. Dave’s joy is short lived, however, when your laughter dies down and the chill returns. He really should crank up the metaphorical heat. 

“So what do we do now? Just wait for your employer to ask about me?” 

“That’s not quite how it works sweetheart,” he grins when your eyes widen at the nickname. “Usually I send them proof. I’ve never actually had a job gone bad so I’m not sure what happens after. I assume they send in another assassin to finish off you and the first person they hired– These people don’t exactly brief us on how all of this works.” 

“You’re a target now too then, because of me,” 

“Don’t worry yourself, this is my doing. Though, we should probably change locations. I have a safehouse up in the mountains. It’s pretty remote, especially designed for a scenario like this, so we’ll be safe there for a while. It’ll give us time to figure out who hired me. We’ll head out–” he eyes the clock on the wall. It’s 12 AM. “–Around seven. And hey, maybe something will jog your memory on the way? Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

He keeps his tone deliberately light hearted, it’s his way of telling you that he knows that you’re keeping something from him. That he knows you don’t trust him. You must’ve picked up on the message because he notices the slight hollow in your left cheek, you’re probably gnawing it raw on the inside. 

“Alright,” you reply, not being able to hide the tremble in your voice.

“Seven it is.” 

A/N: to be notified of future work follow @psychedeliclibrary and turn on notifications✨

[pedrito-friskito]

FOLLOWER CELEBRATION;

dave york x nanny: "Need any help?"

ILYSM.

congrats on the milestone!!!

ANYTHING FOR U MY SWEET ILY and I blame my blossoming dave york obsession on u so here we gooooooo 🤤

🔥friday night fever!🔥

You’ll be the first to admit, you have a bad habit of letting your mind wander when you’re doing the dishes.

Probably not a bad habit, per se, but it’s definitely part and parcel to how you ended up in this situation. And, you’d be lying if you said your mind hadn’t already been wandering towards things similar to exactly what’s happening. In your defence, he truly has no right looking that good. Or talking to you in that soft tone, warm and wanting and making you feel like you’re the only one for him.

You know it’s not right, with his wife out of town for the weekend and his kids sleeping upstairs, but he started it. And it had started innocent.

“Need any help?”

You hadn’t heard his approach, wrapped up in your own head, standing at the sink with the sponge in your hand. The pan in the water was being stubborn, remnants of dinner refusing to be scrubbed away, and when Dave called to you with that warm voice of his, you’d jumped, sponge splashing into the water and a gasp crawling up your throat. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, leaning against the door jamb, hands in the pockets of his dress pants.

“Oh my god,” you breathed, pressing your hand to your chest, flinching when the fabric of your shirt got wet. “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, one hand lifting to pinch his bottom lip. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s all right,” you replied, reaching for the sponge again. “The girls asleep?”

“Out like a light.” You turned back to the sink, but you could see him step into the kitchen from the corner of your eye, taking a slow step towards you. “You can leave those, you know. I’ll do them tomorrow, before Carol gets home.”

“No, no, I can do them.” You scrubbed at the pan again, gritting your teeth. “I don’t mind. Part of the job, right?”

“You’re great at it, you know,” he said, and you could hear the admiration in his tone. It sent a warm feeling spreading through your chest. “The kids love you, we all do.” 

“I love it here,” you said softly, turning to look at him as he leaned against the counter beside the sink. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, and you tried not to let your eyes linger on the way the sleeves of his shirt strained over his biceps. “Honestly, sweetheart,” he said, and your heart skipped a beat at the endearment. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The sponge dropped into the sink again when he reached out, dragging his knuckle up and down your bare arm slowly. Your mouth parted and you gripped the edge of the counter, water spreading across the granite.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

You could hear him now, the slow skid of his feet against the tile floor, and then you felt him, hips pressing into your ass. It made your breath hitch. “They’re just d-dishes,” you stuttered out, your nails scraping against the metal of the sink as he reached for your waist.

“I wasn’t talking about the dishes, sweetheart.”

And now, not so innocent.

Now, he’s got one arm wrapped around your middle, right under your chest, his hand spanning your ribs and holding you tight against his chest. His other hand is slid down the front of your leggings, fingers working your clit while his mouth is pressed beneath your ear, murmuring the filthiest words you’ve ever heard Dave York utter since you’ve known him.

It’s not the first time he’s touched you like this, since you both gave into that forbidden magnetism that had started swirling between you two when you first started working for the Yorks. Thus far, it’s been hurried. It’s been stuttered quickies in the back of his car, bent in half over his desk at work when you bring him his forgotten lunch after taking the girls to school, pressed against the door of your bedroom in the York house with his hand clamped over your mouth.

But this, this is different. It’s slow, the way he’s pulling you apart. He wet his fingers on his tongue before shoving them down your pants, finding your clit with expert precision, yanking you back agains this chest as he rubbed you. You have a death-grip on the countertop, hips grinding into the edge while you press your ass back against him.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers, squeezing around your middle, dragging his tongue along the soft skin behind your ear. “Look at you, chasing my fingers. Such a tight, wet pussy. God, you need it so bad, don’t you?” He bites at your earlobe. “Don’t you?”

“I do,” you groan out, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. Dave’s mouth moves to your neck, nipping at your pulse. “I need it so bad.”

“Mmm,” he moans into your neck, and his fingers dive lower, teasing over where you’re dripping. You can feel it, the heat racing through your body, making a mess of you underwear. “Haven’t been able to do this before, have I? Take my time with you, draw it out until you’re begging for it. I bet you sound so pretty when you beg, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hear it.”

He rubs at you until your knees give out, until the only thing holding you upright is your grip on the counter and Dave’s grip on you. You’re breathing heavily, heart racing, your entire body keening until you’re teetering right on that edge, a soundless gasp on your lips as you press back into him as hard as you can. He’s hard, and you can feel it, pressing against your ass. It only spurs you on further.

But then he slows down his movements, lips dragging against your neck. “Come on,” he purrs, still keeping your back tight against his chest. “Beg for it, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you start to babble, trying to chase his fingers, the edge slipping away from you and leaving your stomach feeling bottomless. “Please, I need—I want to — ah! — please let me cum.”

He doesn’t respond, not at first, fingers dipping lower and curling up into you, it nearly pushes you over the edge right then and there, but you know better. You know Dave.

Suddenly, he spins you in his grip, pushing your ass against the counter without his fingers leaving your pussy. He thrusts his knuckles deep, pads of his fingers pushing against that spot that makes your vision stutter.

“Now.”

You do as he says, cumming with a muffled shout as you clap your damp hand over your mouth. Your whole body seizes, clamping down on his fingers. Dave grins at you, a feral expression that just makes you cum harder, the possession and lust in his eyes making your insides turn to pleasure-soaked mush.

He lets you ride it out, giving you what you need to chase the high as long as possible. Once your back on solid ground, he pulls his fingers from you, licking them clean and moaning at the taste. Then he’s grabbing your face in his hand, giving you a rough kiss that tastes like your cum, tongue stroking along your own.

“I’m gonna go check on the girls,” he whispers, face an inch from yours, squeezing your cheeks, “and then I’m gonna meet you in your room, you understand me? I better find you naked and waiting.”

—————

dave york tags: @iamskyereads @ancientbeing10 @woomen23 @plutoneu @pedropascalsx @allfoolsinluv @bluestuesday @i-simp-much @trickstersp8 @kirsteng42 @lovesbiggerthanpride @beskarprincessjenny @loonymagizoologist @greeneyedblondie44 @tanzthompson @mswarriorbabe80 @vickytogisa @dead-pool-simp @ruhro7 @thevoiceinyourheadx @littlemisspascal @mrssarahpaulsooonn @boliv-jenta @iccedays @detectivecarisi-1

[supernaturalgirl20]

Wifey!!! Congratulations on 1k!!!! You deserve this so much my love. Since day one of your blog I have known for a fact, everyone will love your writing! I cannot wait to see you hit more and more of these precious milestones <3333

Looking at the forbidden romance list, I cannot help but vision this:

A big company is very against coworkers dating. They prefer coworkers to see each other as competition. Of course, coworkers A and B fall for each other anyways.

With none other than our very own Dave York!

Ana darling, thank you so much ily 😘 I hope you enjoy ☺️

Playing Nice

Pairings: Dave York x f!reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, explicit, unprotected sex, established sexual relationship, reader being called a whore, angst, cursing, fluff, violence, guns, killing.

A/N: the gif in my moodboard inspired this one 😘

Comments and reblogs really appreciated 🥰

Daves lips twitched - a smile forcing its way onto his face as he hears your voice over the com link. “Nine…ten..eleven….beat that York. Twelve..” His eyebrow quirks as he spots you moving towards the group of mercenaries. Over my dead body baby.

“Oh I’m going to beat you, and when I do - you’re gonna give me whatever I want.” Dave moves - slowly, hiding behind crates as his eyes scan the area. He sees a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and he can make out the back of your head. No! They're going to see you.

One of the men turned in your direction, gun pointed at your head. No you fucking don’t. Dave stands now, gun aimed and starts firing. One by one they drop. “Twelve..thirteen…fourteen…seems I’ve won,” he says, a sly smirk on his face as he stands above you. There’s something hidden behind those dark eyes as he reaches his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

He pulls you up and you fall into his chest, his hand wraps around your waist to steady you. You can feel his warmth beneath the palm of your hands - searing your skin. You want nothing more than to strip him bare and trace the scars on his chest. Dave clears his throat and you back away, “thanks. We better get going.”

***

Your eyes follow him as he leaves Smith's office - having given his debrief. He walks past you, his face void of any emotion and his gaze fixed on anything but you. You hated this. The way it was so easy for him to ignore you all day - to act cold and unfeeling when you practically wore your heart on your sleeve. Did he care about you at all?

“Y/N.”

Taking a deep breath, you stand and make your way into his office, Smith gesturing for you to take a seat. “York filled us in on your fuck up.” An anger boils under the surface of your skin and you clench your fists in an attempt to not punch this fucker in the face. “There was no fuck up, sir. I had more targets taken out than York until one of the mercs spotted me. I had it handled.”

“That’s not what Dave said. He said you got caught and he had to intervene. You know this means the kills go to him, which means he’s now in the lead.” You stand abruptly now, “that isn’t fair. You can’t do that.”

“I think you’ll find I can. You will simply have to do better if you want to be in charge miss Y/N. Both of you are always neck and neck, this next mission will be the decider. You’d best bring your A game.”

“Yes, sir.” Storming out of his office you make your way straight for Dave. He’s in the conference room with guys - Resnik, Kovac and Ari. Laughing at something he said but their conversation dies down as you enter and Dave looks at you with a sly smirk. His eyes skim over your form before meeting your gaze and you can see the hint of lust in his eyes.

“Got something to say, baby?” What is going on with him? He’s never this cruel. “You lied to Smith. Why?”

“I didn’t lie. I told him exactly what happened, not my problem, your shit at this.” The guys all try to hide their laughter and it angers you even more. “You’re a dick.”

“Baby, if you wanna suck my dick, all you have to do is ask?” You walk up to him and slap him hard on the face before storming back to your office - willing the tears to hold off until you can close your door. How fucking dare he.

***

The bathroom is steaming as you let the hot water from the shower cascade down your body. You hope it will ease the tension in your muscles from the shit day you’ve had. What has gotten into Dave? He was mean today. Meaner than usual.

A squeal passes your lips as arms wrap around you from behind. A hand coming up to cover your mouth to muffle your scream. “Shh baby, it’s just me.” You lean into his touch as his deep baritone voice soothes your nerves, but then you remember how he treated you today and you turn around and push him slightly.

“What the hell are you doing here Dave? I’m not in the mood.” You try to move past him but he blocks you, his body pushing you back against the cool tiles. “Dave!” His arousal is hard against your stomach and you can help the shiver that runs through you. Why did you always want him?

“Is this about today? Baby, you know I had to. That we have to play the game and pretend we hate each other.”

“Yeah I get that, but you didn’t have to be so mean about it. You're not usually like that, so what’s gotten into you?” You place your hand in his cheek gently and reach up and kiss his lips softly. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

***

Dave feels his heart flutter again and butterflies erupt in his stomach. He’s developing feelings and that can’t happen. He grabs your neck a little roughly - his thumb running along your bottom lip before trailing it down your chest and pinching your nipple “Nothing has gotten into me baby, but I want to get into you.”

He pushes his hips against you and you moan a little. Such a filthy whore. “If you want me to leave?” Your eyes widen and you grip him harder, pulling him close. “No.”

He smirks and begins kissing along your neck, his teeth biting into the skin. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard baby, you’ll forget all about today.” He pumps himself twice before lining up at your entrance, thrusting into you in one fluid motion. “Oh fuck”

His pace is brutal as he pounds into you, his thick length hitting that sweet spot over and over. You feel so good wrapped around him, he never wants this to end. He wants to be buried inside you every minute of every day.

“Fuck Dave…harder..” Filthy fucking whore. He loves watching you come undone. He loves the faces you make, the sounds that escape those plump lips. All for him. Only him.

“You belong to me. Do you hear me? Every inch of you is mine, and if you let another man touch you, I won’t hesitate to kill them.”

“Yes. Yours, all yours.” He crashes his lips to yours and you come around him, crying out his name. Pulling out, he pumps himself before spilling his come all over your stomach. His hand rests under your chin, “I’m sorry, if I hurt your feelings. I’ll tone it down a bit, baby.”

“Thanks. Are you staying tonight?” His lips quirk into a smile, “do you want me to?” With a nod of your head he turns off the shower and lifts you into his arms, carrying you into your room. “Guess I’m staying then.”

***

The mission has gone to shit and Dave can’t find you anywhere. Fuck! I should have told her how I feel. It had been a set up from the beginning and they ambushed you, and he hasn’t laid eyes on you in over an hour. I’m gonna fucking kill them.

He’s on top of the tower, eyes scanning through the scope of his gun. Come on baby, where are you? His heart is beating erratically and he’s gonna lose his shit if he can’t find you.

“Fuck. Dave…”

“Baby! Baby is that you? Where are you?” Your voice comes through - slightly muffled - on the comms. “I’m ok…I got knocked out when the cafe blew up. I’m just a little sore.”

“Hey it’s ok…just wait there…I’m coming to you.” Dave rushes down the stairs, taking two at a time until he reaches the bottom. He moves as quickly as he can while also keeping an eye out for stragglers.

He releases a breath when he finally lays his eyes on you. You're ok. “Hey.” You say with a smile plastered on your face. That beautiful smile that he loves. Bending down - he helps you up -pulling you into a hug. “Thought I fucking lost you baby.” His hands rest on either side of your face as he whispers “I love you, so fucking much”, before kissing you passionately.

“What?” You’ve pulled back a little, eyes boring into him - hope shining behind them. “I love you baby. I didn’t want to admit it but today…today I almost lost you and…I’m not hiding it anymore. I’m not hiding us.”

“Dave we’re not allowed…” he stops you by kissing you again, his arms wrapping fully around you now. “I don’t give a fuck anymore, I love you and I want to be with you.”

“I love you too. Now please, take me home.”

***

Dave pulls into the drive and you both look at each other - a devilish smile on your face as you reach over and kiss him passionately. “You ready baby?”

“Born ready. Now let’s get this done, then you can take me home and fuck me.” Dave growls as he pulls you into another kiss. “Come on.”

Both dressed in black head to toe - you enter into the huge house, careful to make no noise. The house is quiet, everyone fast asleep. Perfect. With the silencer on your gun, you make your way behind Dave towards the main bedroom.

Making your way inside, Dave gives you a look - one you know is him telling you to take this one. And you will, with great fucking pleasure. With the safety off, you point the gun to his head - right between his eyes.

He startles awake and the fear in his eyes when he sees you is so satisfying. “What the?” You place your finger over your lip, shushing him. “Y/N? York?”

Dave smirks as he comes to stand behind you, hand resting on your hip. “Thought you could take us out and we wouldn’t find out?”

“What? I never..”

“Cut the shit Smith, we know what you did.” You watch as his face morphs into a sadistic smile. “I should have killed you both myself. You both could have gone far, if only you didn’t catch feelings. You knew the rules and you both disobeyed them. You had to face the consequences.”

“Well you forgot that we are the best you have and now, we’re eliminating you. Any last words?” Panic creeps onto his face again as he begs for you to let him go, that he’ll allow you both to continue your relationship. You pretend to consider his plea, “nah I’d rather kill you,” before pulling the trigger and killing him.

“Fuck that was so hot baby.” Dave says as he bites into the skin in your neck. “Now, let’s get out of here so I can fuck you good and hard.”

“Yes, please.”

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