#daveed x ofc

[pedropascalsx]

A Long Awaited Reward. {Dave York x F! Reader!}

Rating: Explicit.

Word Count: 15.8k

Warnings: Unhappy marriage, known infidelity, ?slightly forced hand, mention of car crash (no injuries), oral sex (m&f receiving), P in V sex, loss of virginity, fingering, cock warming, some feelings, derogatory language, aftercare.

Comments: Dave has been cleaning up after his wife for too long, and you tempt him with a proposition that he can’t resist.

Co-written with @absurdthirst ❤️

Gif by me: @pedropascalsx!

Carol York is perfect. She has the perfect family, the perfect house, the perfect car and her most prized possession; her perfect husband.

Everything about Carol York is perfect… or so it seems.

The truth is Carol York has her demons, skeletons that are piled up in her closet, haunting the rows of designer shoes and racks of glamorous gowns that seldom get to see the light of day. 

But to anyone you may ask, they would likely describe Carol York as a perfectionist, kind, generous, charitable and all around the perfect housewife; but you knew otherwise.

You spotted her the moment she waltz into the hotel bar, clutching her designer purse in one hand and her phone in the other. She was with her usual group of friends, all equally as loud and pretentious. 

Sitting quietly in the corner and picking at the rest of the food on your plate you rolled your eyes as her group of friends laughed so loudly it made the glassware shake, really you had no real reason to dislike her but you couldn’t help it. The whole stepford wives persona that they all exude simply leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

You think back to the first time you had met her about ten years ago, still in your teens and still in high school, she had loudly made a comment about how boys never notice the plain, boring ones while looking you up and down. Everyone had laughed along with her, even your mom, who then spent the next few weeks trying to talk you into buying a new wardrobe but you weren’t interested. 

You left the bar before she did that night, sneaking out without her noticing you and pulling into your driveway about five minutes before you heard her speeding around the corner. Her brand new Mercedes squealing as she drove straight into Mr. Perkins’ Chevy. You opened your door to check on her but before you could step out, you saw Dave running towards her. She stumbled out of the car giggling as she admired the damage she caused, clearly enjoying the look of annoyance on her husband's face. 

You couldn’t make out their conversation but you could tell he was furious, shaking his head as he pulled out his phone and made a brief phone call. Slowly, you started to close the door, not wanting them to see that you had witnessed everything and once the door was gently pushed shut you made your way to bed.

You woke up the next morning to a commotion outside your bedroom window, neighbours all lining up to get a look at the damage that had been caused by the selfish driver that had left no note and that’s when you saw her... Standing next to Mr Perkins shaking her head and pretending to be just as outraged as he was.

Over the next few days you had considered sending an anonymous note, or anonymously contacting the police but ultimately decided to keep quiet, despite the guilt that kept you from sleeping at night. It wasn’t your business and you weren’t about to go to war with the Yorks. 

Carol could make your life hell. But Dave… Dave seemed like he’d be capable of so much more. 

*

Dave growls as he rewatches the tape from a few days earlier, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything from that night. One of their neighbours had caught the whole thing on their RING doorbell camera but thankfully Dave was able to have Resnick hack into their accounts and delete all the footage and make it look like the camera had unfortunately stopped working a few hours before the accident.

It was only as he was about to delete the last trace of evidence from that evening he noticed it. Your door barely in the frame, opening a few inches and closing just as he got off the phone to Ari - who had managed to get the exact model Mercedes Carol owned and replace it with the damaged one before daylight began to fall across the neighbourhood. 

“Shit.” He hisses as he slams his hand against his desk. Your parents were out of town on their cruise, so he knew that the person who witnessed his wifes reckless behaviour had to have been you. He ponders for a second why you hadn’t said anything yet and wonders if it’s worth just letting things sit… but decides that paying you a visit is the best course of action.

He slides his phone into his pocket and makes his way downstairs to his wife and kids… hating the way her face is buried into her phone as the girls watched Tangled for the 10,000th time this month.

“We need to talk, honey,” he says with a smile, as not to concern the girls. “Now.”

“Sure,” she says with a roll of her eyes, before following him into her ‘crafts’ room. 

The second she waltzes in the room, he closes the door and swings around to face her with a look of fury on his face, “You had a fucking witness,” he scowls, “And she saw the whole fucking thing.” 

“What?” Carol says in utter disbelief. “What are you talking about?” 

With venom dripping from every word he tells her everything that he could make out from the video. How it was clear that you saw everything and how they had to pay you a visit and make sure that you keep your pretty little mouth shut and not ruin their comfortable little life in the unsuspecting suburbs. 

*

The doorbell makes you jump, not expecting anyone and planning on having a quiet night in front of the TV with leftover chinese food and netflix, you groan as you pull yourself up and off your sofa.

“Evening,” a raspy voice growls at you, as the door swings open, “I think we need to have a little chat.” 

Dave pushes past you and Carol enters right behind him as you step back in shock. Every single thing about Dave York is entirely intoxicating, his scent, his voice and the fact he’s the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on doesn’t help either. Even in the comfort of your own house, you’re being commanded by him and following him into your kitchen. 

“Can I get you both a drink?” You ask after a few uncomfortable minutes, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your hands shake. 

“No. Enough drinking.” Dave cuts his eyes towards Carol, annoyed that he’s in this position. If it weren’t for the fact that the bitch knows what he does, would threaten to tell everyone, he wouldn’t bother fixing this mess she got herself into. “Sit down.” He orders, kicking the chair opposite him out from under the table.

“Yes, sir,” you say with a gulp, unsure why you addressed him with such authority. “How can I help you?” You ask meekly.

“Have fun the other night?” Dave’s eyes are flat, emotionless as he leans in to stare into your own. Using the intimidation that comes so easily to him.

“Wha-what do you mean?” You stutter, your body almost frozen in fear as you look over at him.

“Going out.” He doesn’t expand on that, wanting you to spill what you know without him giving you anything more.

“I went out for a meal with a few friends from my book club on Tuesday at The Charlton Hotel.” You say quietly, managing to rip your eyes from his for a few seconds before he’s commanding them back with a sharp tut.

“And?” He demands harshly. “What else happened?”

“I think you know.” Is all you say, your voice small and barely higher than a whisper. You glance over at Carol who has a smug look plastered on her face as she watches her husband clean up her mess yet again.

“Say it.” He growls, slapping his hand down on the table, making you jump. He hates this, hates having to fucking clean up yet another one of her messes, but he has his girls to think about.

“I heard Carol drive into Rodney’s car, and saw you start to hide the evidence.” Tears start to stream down your face, as you realize just how much danger you may be in.

Good. Now that you’ve admitted what you’ve seen, he can make sure you keep it quiet. Dave reaches out and captures your jaw in his hand. Leaning in threateningly, he grunts. “But you aren’t going to say anything, are you?”

The yelp you make as his hand harshly squeezes your jaw makes Carol squeal with laughter, but you block it out, concentrating on forcing out a small ‘no, sir’ as your tears begin to fall even harder, and your sobs grow louder.

He watches you for a moment. Not particularly enjoying the tears or the distress in your eyes, but he can’t risk his wife being arrested. “Good.” His tone softens slightly and his thumb brushes the bone of your jaw slightly. “Always knew you were smart.”

You nod your head to acknowledge that he just spoke to you, his fingertips are still gently brushing against your jaw as you stare into his eyes. “I promise I won’t say a thing.”

“You promise huh?” Dave snorts, admiring how innocent you are. “I think I’m gonna need a little more reassurance than that.”

“I’ll sign an NDA,” you stutter, “I’ll do anything.” Carol's cruel laughter makes you shudder, but it just makes Dave rub your chin a little harder.

“No, I don’t think that will work.” He doesn’t know how he should keep you quiet, just that you need to stay that way. “Maybe I should just make the problem go away.” He threatens.

You start to shake your head and pull away, the fear evident in your eyes, “No… no… what does that even mean?”

“What do you think that it means?” He asks, his voice deceptively soft.

“Getting rid of me,” you say almost silently, the tone of your voice softer than a whisper.

“I don’t want to do that.” He admits. “So what is going to keep your pretty little mouth shut for the rest of your life?”

“I’ll sign whatever you want,” you say again, not really sure what he means.

“No.” He shakes his head. “I need something on you. Something you don’t want to get out.” He decides, smirking slightly.

“Like what?” You say, with a look of confusion plastered on your face.

“I’ll take pictures of you.” He decides, figuring you are - if not a virgin, close to it. You would be mortified if naked pictures of you were released to your family. “And if you breathe a word, I send them to every family member you have.”

“What?” Carol scoffs out from behind him. “I’ll take them. You are not seeing her naked.”

You remain silent as you listen to them go back and forth, unsure what to say, wanting to refuse but fear keeping your lips firmly closed.

“I told you I would handle this.” Dave hisses. “So shut up while I handle it.”

“Handle it then,” she growls back at him, “But I will handle taking any photos.” She stares at you with a look of disgust on her face as she shakes her head. “Plus I doubt she’s ever had a man as attractive as you see her naked before and I don’t want the desperate little slut trying to tempt you.”

“She’s a virgin.” Dave grunts, even though he doesn’t know that for certain. “Only slut in this room is you.”

“I-I don’t think that’s necessary,” you start to say, voice trembling as you try to find some confidence, they’re right but you don’t want to admit it to them, “I won’t say anything and let’s be honest… even if I did no one would believe me.”

“Aw bless her,” Carol mocks looking over at Dave, “Don’t worry honey, we know someone like you couldn’t handle someone like my Dave. And he’s not available anyway.”

Dave shakes his head, holding his hand up to silence his wife. “Then tell me what will keep you quiet.” He demands, his dark eyes on you.

You look over at Carol and see the cruel smirk on her face and the words just fall from your mouth and float heavily in the air. 

“You. I want one night with you.”

“Absolutely not,” Carol bellows at you from across the table, “How dare you!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Dave snaps, whipping his head around and glaring at Carol until she sits back. While she’s smug towards you, she’s also just slightly afraid of him. When he’s satisfied that she will be quiet, he turns back towards you. “What did you say?”

You concentrate on him, refusing to look back over at her despite her yelling. “I want a night with you.” You squirm in your seat under his stare, the expression on his face neutral as he watches you.

“A night for what?” He demands, wanting to hear you say it out loud. Carol huffs and grumbles under her breath beside him but he ignores her as he watches you.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say as quietly as you can. Your fingernails digging into your thighs to stop yourself shivering with anxiety.

“She wouldn’t know what to do with you,” Carol taunts cruelly. Furious at what she’s hearing.

“Neither did you.” Dave snorts, looking over at his wife and giving you a moment since you look like you are about to pass out. The idea has merit and his cock twitches when he thinks about ruining you.

“Maybe before we do anything you can take that picture,” you say, unable to meet his eyes.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Before, during, and after I’m done with you.” He corrects.

“You’re speaking like you’re going along with this madness,” Carol spits at Dave.

“Why shouldn’t I?” Dave asks, smirking slightly. “How many people have you fucked over the last eight years?”

You watch as she incoherently mutters something in response under her breath. Still squirming in your seat as you think about Dave’s hands roaming over your body.

“You thought I didn’t know?” Dave scoffs, chuckling under his breath. “Sweetheart, I know exactly how many dicks you’ve taken, how many times you’ve taken them. Why shouldn’t I wreck our pretty little neighbor to save your skin?”

“So is this happening?” Your timid voice asks, as they take a break from going at each other's throats.

“No,” Carol screeches back, “Dave is going to pull out his checkbook and write you a pretty little cheque and you’re going to keep your mouth quiet or I'm going to inform every woman in this neighbourhood what a nasty little whore you are.”

“No you won’t.” Dave growls at Carol. “You can have all the dick you want but I cant fuck her?” He snorts. “Go wait at the house.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She growls at him, before looking you up and down one more time. “You really think you can handle a night with him, sweetheart? He’ll be bored senseless within the first ten minutes.”

“We’ll see,” you say quietly, “Maybe I'll surprise us both.”

“Go to the fucking house, Carol.” Dave hisses. “Or shut your fucking mouth. You’re the reason this is even fucking happening.” He’ll blame her, making sure she won’t try to blame you. “If you hadn’t fucked up, she wouldn’t be in a position to ask for sex.”

Your eyes remain focusing on him as she spews some colourful language in your direction before storming out the kitchen and out of the house.

“Now.” Dark, amused eyes turn towards you. He has to admire the gumption of your demand. “What makes you think that fucking me will keep that mouth of yours shut?” He asks. “Just having my cock in it?”

“You can take the photos,” you say, with a shrug, “I know the hell she’d cause for me and my family if I was to ever say a single word.”

“Why do you want me to fuck you?” He asks seriously. Wanting to know your reasoning behind this.

“She’s getting what she wants, my silence. Figured I’d ask for something that I’ve always wanted… You.” With a shaky breath, you reach your arm out to touch him, “Everyone wants you. You can’t pretend that women don’t throw themselves at you.”

“Everyone doesn’t want me.” Dave shakes his head. Some women might be attracted to him, but he also scares some off. “But if you want me, I have to ask what’s wrong with you?” He smirks.

“Read too many filthy stories,” you say with a giggle, “I don’t know. Lonely I guess.”

“I’m not the easiest to take.” He warns you. “And I like to fuck hard.”

A gasp escapes you at the way he’s speaking to you, but you can’t ignore the way your body reacts to him. “One night. I’m yours to do as you please with.”

Sitting back, he rocks his jaw as he contemplates it. “Are you on birth control?” He demands.

“No,” you admit, “But I can show you that I’m clean. I’ve nev- I can get Plan B and you can watch me take it… That’s if you don’t want to use a condom.”

“I’m not going to use a condom.” Dave decides. “And I’m going to fill two out of your three holes with my cum.” He smirks. “I’ll let you guess which two.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, clearly nervous but excited too. “When? Do I need to do anything to prepare?”

He snorts and reminds himself that you are innocent. “Show up when I call you.” He tells you, standing up and towering over you. “And forget what you saw Tuesday.”

“Yes, sir,” you say, standing up and studying his face for a few seconds. “I saw nothing.”

“Good girl.” He turns around and starts striding to the door, aware that his wife would be spoiling for a fight and he wants to get it over with before the girls come home from their Nana’s house. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” you say softly, watching as he leaves.

It’s a quick walk back to his house, sighing heavily before he opens the door and steps inside.

You immediately throw yourself back down onto the sofa and question whether any of that really happened and you really asked to have sex with Dave York.

*

“Are you fucking serious?” Carol screeches as she watches Dave stride into the kitchen. “Are you actually considering fucking that little whore?”

Dave pins her with a hot glare. “What do you suggest, Carol?” He hisses. “I’ve got to clean up your mess, remember?”

“That doesn’t mean you get to make a mess with her,” she yells. “You’re not doing it, you can keep up the pretense and then force her to sign an NDA.”

“I’m done with your shit.” He huffs, striding over and grabbing her shoulders and shaking her. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking bitch, and this is your fucking mess!”

“Temper temper, Dave, we both know who’ll end up with the girls if this goes sour.” She says with a smirk, before stepping back and walking towards the cupboard with the wine glasses. “If you fuck her, i’ll take you for everything you’ve got.”

“I’ve got evidence, Carol.” Dave warns you. “Photos, texts, recorded conversations of you cheating.”

“Bullshit,” she says with a cruel laugh, before skulking upstairs with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm.

Dave growls, slapping a coffee mug to the side and wondering what the fuck is going on. Unable to believe that things have gotten so twisted.

*

A few days have passed since you saw Dave and Carol at your house and you’ve heard nothing. You figure that he changed his mind, and have decided to put the whole thing behind you and move on with the hopes that Carol doesn’t attempt to take revenge over your suggestion.

Laying down in front of the TV the sound of your phone vibrating on the coffee table makes you jump.

‘Tomorrow night’ He sends you a text. ‘’Come over at 8. I’ll be taking you to a hotel.’

‘Is there anything I need to bring’’ You type back immediately, excitement swirling around in your tummy.

‘Your cunt.’ Dave snorts to himself as he hits send.

‘I’ll double check I’ve got it before I leave.’ You send back with a giggle. You decide that you’ll get up early and pop to the mall and buy something special for the occasion.

Dave hums at your smart ass reply, ignoring the way Carol huffs and puffs across from him. She’s pissed but she can just stay mad for all he cares.

You settle on an early night and sleep comes easily to you. You should feel guilty, but you don’t. It’s one night in exchange for keeping a secret for the rest of your life.

*

Between his wife’s cold shoulder last night and her quiet sullen expression this morning, Dave has had time to muse over what he will do. To contemplate it, rejecting several thoughts, he decides that he will just decide in the moment based of how you respond to him. He’s not a monster, he isn’t going to do things you don’t like, but you chose him. Your silence is worth getting some satisfaction.

The morning flies by and after a very expensive trip to the mall you find yourself clock watching, fighting the nerves and anxiety that are bubbling in your tummy. Wondering if you’re really going to go through with this.

Dave watches as you come and go from your house, working from home and he wonders where you’ve gone. He knows he could quickly find out, but half the fun is the wondering.

After a long soak in the bath and dressing in the new white lingerie you picked up that morning, you pull on your sundress and pack a few things for the hotel. Not convinced you’ll be sleeping but you pack some pajamas anyway, before slowly making your way to the York residence just before 8.

“I can’t believe you are going to do this.” Carol hisses as Dave picks up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. 

“Feel free to call the police department and confess to a hit and run while drinking.” Dave snorts, opening the door and looking back at his wife.

You see him at his door, and you shiver with anticipation. You pick up your pace a little until you’re waiting patiently next to his car.

“Get in.” He tells you as he unlocks the door.

“Yes sir,” you say with a shy smile, before climbing in.

Dave hums, taking his bag into the back seat before he climbs behind the wheel.

“So, how are you?” You ask after a few minutes of driving in silence. Clearly nervous and wondering if he can tell.

“Surprised that you are here.” Dave tells you. “Honestly.”

A small giggle slips through your lips and you see his brow raise in response and you’re almost certain his lips began to curl upwards before falling back into their natural state of neutrality. “I’m not… I thought you weren’t ever going to text me though.”

“Why is that?” He looks at you at the stop sign at the end of the road.

“I don’t know,” you say with a shrug, “I guess I figured you already knew I have no intentions of saying anything.”

“I figured that out the second your chin trembled in my hand.” Dave chuckles and sends you a small smirk before he turns to the right and starts driving towards the hotel he had booked.

“Mhmm,” you say, before nervously biting on your bottom lip. “You definitely had me in the palm of your hand.”

“Gotta say I’m surprised you came out and just said that you wanted me to fuck you to keep silent.” He snorts. “Thought Carol was going to stroke out.”

“Yeah, I still can’t believe I said it either.” You admit. “I can’t believe she didn’t punch me.”

“Fuck her.” He rolls his eyes. “She deserves it for being a fucking cunt who acts like she’s got a get out of jail free card for everything.” 

“Well then I guess it’s time you got a reward for being such an attentive husband.” You reach over and gently squeeze his knee before letting your hand fall back into your lap.

“Are you a virgin?” Dave asks, wanting to know if it was true. He had said you were, but he didn’t know for sure.

“Is it a problem for you if I am?” You ask quietly. A little nervous about his answer, but figuring that he already knows anyway.

“No.” Dave shakes his head and his cock is throbbing at the thought. “I will just not ram my cock into you. I don’t want you to hate fucking.” He snorts.

“I won’t mind,” you say with another giggle, “I should admit that I’ve thought about it… Thought about you.”

“What have you thought about?” He asks, wanting to know how deep this little crush goes.

You moan as his hand grips onto your thigh, “Dirty thoughts. There was this story I read where the Dad sold his daughter to a crime boss to pay off his debts…”

“Yeah?” He chuckles.” Was I the crime boss? Taking the innocent girl and ruining her?”

“Yes.” Your hand comes down on top of his and gently moves it higher. “Took her virginity and became addicted to her pussy.”

“Hmmmm and you think I’ll become addicted to yours?” He muses.

“Maybe.” You inch his hand up just enough that his fingertips can brush the lace material of your bright white panties, wondering how he’ll react to the wet patch in the center.

“It would have to be pretty good.” He warns you. “Besides, why would you want a man who will cheat on his wife?”

“I don’t think you would do it if she hadn’t pushed you this far,” you say with a shrug, gently letting go of his hand.

“That upset you.” He doesn’t ask, says it as a fact as he turns into the hotel parking lot. He didn’t choose a seedy motel, the nice, modern chain hotel will provide little luxuries and complete privacy.

You don’t say anything, you simply offer a small smile before appreciating the fact he’d clearly put thought into where you were going. “I’m not a silly little girl,” you say as he pulls into a spot, “I don’t expect you to fall in love with me or for anything to come from this, Dave. I know this just for one night.”

“And yet, you’re wearing sexy lingerie.” His hand slides back between your thighs to press against your wet clit.

“I thought you’d like it,” you admit, before moaning his name softly.

“What color is it?” He asks before he chuckles. “White. Right?”

You nod your head, feeling slightly embarrassed at how predictable you are. His demeanour is slightly sharper than before, and you can’t help but ask, “Do you not want to do this?”

“I am trying to figure out if you really want to do this.” Dave tells you seriously.

“I do.”

“Good.” He growls and pulls his hand away. “If you regret it, there’s not a fucking thing I can do after I’m buried deep in your little pussy.”

“I won’t regret it,” you say softly, before cupping his face, “I promise.” In that moment you can’t help but wonder when the last time someone was gentle with him, his body seems to immediately stiffen as your fingertips rub gentle circles into his cheeks.

Dave nods, trying not to pull away from your fingers but they feel too good against his skin. Foreign to a man who spends so much time in darkness.

“Shall we go in?” You ask with a genuine smile, “We don’t have to rush into anything.”

“I’ve already checked in.” He tells you, holding up his phone. “Digital key.”

“Perfect.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your overnight bag and step out the car, waiting for Dave to lead the way.

You are an eager thing, he has to give you that. He claims his own bag and walks around the car, placing his hand on your lower back and guiding you towards the doors.

You love the way his hand feels on you, and wonder how he's planning on taking things tonight. "I think tonight is going to be a good night," you say with a smile as he leads you to the elevators.

"Have you eaten, or were you too nervous?" He asks once you are in the elevator and the doors are closed. The button for the eighth floor is pressed and he looks over at where you are standing close to him.

"I had lunch but nothing else," you tell him, resisting the urge to thread your fingers with his.

"Do you want to eat after?" He won't feed you before. Shooting you a grin, he shrugs. "If you eat now, you might throw up."

"Sounds good," you say with a smile. "I'm never one to turn down food."

"We'll order room service." He decides.

"Perfect." The elevator arrives on your floor and he gestures for you to step out first and you wait patiently for him to lead you to your room.

Dave pulls out his phone, opening the app and walking towards the room so he can open it with the digital key.

You step into the room and admire how nice it is, the king bed in the centre of the room looks nice and inviting. He stands in the doorway and watches you as you look around, "How do you want to do this?" You ask as you spin on your heel to talk to him. 

He has to admire how eager you seem to be. Smirking slightly, he lets the door clothes and then flips the lock behind him. "You tell me, sweetheart." He chuckles. "This was your demand. How do you want my cock."

"However you're willing to give it to me," you say, watching as he slowly walks towards you.

"I think I want you to strip for me." He tells you as he brushes past you to sit down in a chair that he pulls next to the bed. Arching a brow at you when he settles down.

"Yes, sir," you say, before unbuttoning your jacket and placing it on the bed. "I've never done this before." You take a few small steps until you're in front of his chair and wait for him to tell you to start.

"Take your time." He tells you. "Do it slowly."

You nod and flash him a small smile before slowly reaching behind to unzip your sundress. Letting the straps slowly fall off your shoulders as the billowy material starts to fall down your body, revealing the brand new lingerie set you had bought earlier that day.

"So innocent." He murmurs, taking in the white lace and yet there is something so dirty about you. You pushed for this, knowing he's married. You want him, however you can have him. "Hmmmm stay just like that." He tells you as he reaches for his belt.

"I got this just for you," you tell him, as your fingertips trail against the soft material. "Do you like it?" 

"It's pretty." He coos, smirking as your fingers trail over your body. Something you've obviously done a time or two because you aren't shy about it. "Why don't you come open my pants for me, Princess."

"Yes sir." Walking towards him, you bite your lip in anticipation, and slowly sink down onto your knees in front of him. Your fingers hover for a few seconds before finding the button and popping it open.

Dave watches you, under hooded eyes as you bite and lick your bottom lip. Your fingers fumbling slightly as you drag his zipper down. "Take your time."

You nod your head and wait for him to lift his hips, so you drag down his pants. "What do you want me to do first?"

"What do you want to do?" He asks. "I want you to suck my cock."

"I can do that," you say, as you pull down his pants and boxers in one clean sweep. The sweetest oooooh he's ever heard comes out of you as you see his cock for the first time. Thick, long, rock hard with the tip weeping. 

Dave watches you, enjoying the way your eyes widen and you unconsciously lick your lips. Innocent. At least you are innocent enough to fake it. He covers your hand with his and slowly starts to move your hand along his shaft.

"It's so thick," you say, as he helps you increase the pace, "Is it going to fit?"

"It's gonna fit. It'll be a tight little squeeze around my cock." He grunts, twitching in your hand.

"Yeah?" You ask before squeezing him a little tighter, and loving the groan he gifts you in response. "My little pussy is going to fit around this gorgeous cock like a glove."

You might be a virgin, but you've obviously touched a cock before. He grunts, wondering what little boy you touched and how quickly he came. "You are going to scream before you leave this suite."

"Yes, but only your name," you say with a little giggle. "Tell me how good your cock feels in my hand, sir."

"Sir?" His brow arches up and he chuckles. "Do you have a little bit of an authority kink?" He asks, figuring that you would be attracted to him if that was the case. He's been told he has a commanding presence.

"I don't know," you admit with a shrug, still stroking his cock. "I guess I just like the idea of you in charge."

"Open your mouth." He reaches out and grasps your chin. "Taste my cock."

Your mouth falls open immediately, tongue dipping out to lip the head. You've never sucked cock before but you've watched a lot of videos and read a lot of smut, so you remember not to take too much at once and to swallow around him.

"G-good." He grunts as your tongue flutters over the tip and your lips wrap around him. "How do I taste?"

You pull off him with a loud pop, "First cock I've ever sucked, and I already know that no other will compare… Delicious."

He grunts, and his cock twitches in your hand. "Good. Suck it some more." He orders roughly.

You take the base of him in your hand again and wrap your lips around the head, hollowing your cheeks before bobbing up and down slowly, feeling your arousal drip down your thighs as he groans in pleasure.

Dave lets you work at your own pace, slowly exploring him and getting comfortable with his size. You are probably soaking through your panties as you kneel in front of him. "Do you like that? Sucking my cock."

Not wanting to stop, you simply look up at him through your lashes and nod. You take him a little deeper and moan at the stretch, eyes filling with water as fat tears threaten to stain your cheeks.

He can't take his eyes off of you, eyes watering and about to spill down. He wants to see it. He rocks his hips up and pushes his cock deeper into your mouth and grunting when you gag.

You splutter around him, tears now streaming down your face as he grunts something filthy at you. It's overwhelming but you want more, the need to be at his mercy growing stronger as your panties get wetter.

"Slide back." Dave orders with a growl, suddenly wanting to be on his feet over you. "Now."

You obey his command immediately, letting him fall out of your mouth before sliding back and waiting patiently for your next order.

"Open your mouth, stick out your tongue." He stands, his pants shuffling as he moves forward, stroking his cock that is covered with your saliva. "I'm gonna fuck your throat, pretty girl."

You swallow hard at his words and the filthy smirk that spreads across his face tells you that he heard it. You place your hands in your lap and open your mouth, making eye contact as you stick out your tongue. 

He smirks at how quickly you follow his order. How eagerly you obey him. "Good girl." He grunts, slapping his cock onto your tongue and then rocking his hips forward to thrust into your mouth.

One of your hands comes up and rests gently on his thigh as he starts to fuck into your mouth, you focus on hollowing you cheeks and swallowing around him. You gag around him as he starts to pick up his pace and you think he likes this, you think he likes seeing your innocent face overwhelmed by his thick cock. 

Dave works up a quick pace, moving his hand to the back of your head and pressing you harder onto his cock. Starting to really fuck your mouth to see how much you will drool and choke on him.

The noises you make are filthy, your fingernails dig into his thighs as you gasp for breath, after a few moments you push your head back and pull off him with a loud gasp. Still connected to him with a line of saliva.

"Good girl." He pulls his hips back and he leans down, opening his own mouth and spitting, wanting you to swallow his spit.

"Delicious." You rise up so you're standing toe to toe with him, and you decide to make a move. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and pressing a fleeting kiss to his lips.

"Why do I like every other man is just going to be a disappointment when compared to you?"

"Because they are." He chuckles, sliding his hands down and squeezing your ass. "Now, stretch out on the bed and watch while I get more comfortable."

"Yes sir." Climbing onto the bed, you make yourself comfortable. Letting your fingertips trail down your body as you watch him.

Dave isn't wearing a button down shirt, so he doesn't get to show you how slowly he can undress. But he is making you wait as he slides his shirt up over his head.

"You're so sexy," you whisper, as he starts to shred his clothing.

He chuckles, flattered by your praise because he knows he's not in as good of shape as he used to be. No need when you aren't in the military anymore. He kicks off his shoes and strips off the pants that are already around his ankles.

"What do you want to do to me first?" You ask, as you push yourself up onto your elbows and admire the view.

"Undo your top." He grunts as he starts moving towards the bed. "Want to see your tits."

You reach around and undo your bra, letting the straps fall off your shoulders before pulling it off.

"Fuck." He hisses, imagining biting and sucking on the sweet little nipples you've exposed. "I'll enjoy cumming on them." He tells you. "Turn over, your ass up in the air and your face down on the bed."

You do as he commands, ignoring the way your cheeks burn a little. Waiting patiently to see what he's going to do next.

Kneeling on the bed behind you, he reaches out to caress your ass, enjoying the sight of your panties stretched over your ass. Swatting your cheek, one then the other sharply with his palm. "Fucking dirty."

"You going to keep these panties?" You ask as you lift your face off the pillow. "Something special for you to remember this night."

"Might." He hums. "Might just tie you up with them." He threatens lightly, knowing that he won't.

"You can do anything you want." You say as he softly massages your ass. "Are you taking me like this first?"

"No." He's not going to take you like this. His fingers curl under the waist of your panties and he starts to drag them down.

"Ohhh," you moan as he exposes your dripping wet core. "Dave."

"Nothing to moan about yet." He huffs, lowering himself down to eye level with your cunt. "Yet." Lunging forward, he spreads your cheeks and dives into your cunt from behind.

"Ohhh fuck," you yelp, his tongue beginning the most delicious assault on your cunt. "Don't stop."

He grunts, not bothering to pull away to tell you he has no intention of stopping. Making sure his tongue curls filthily. Licking you from clit to puckered hole.

"Daaaave," you scream, as he starts lapping against your clit, your thighs begin to shake as he pushes you towards paradise.

He actually enjoys eating pussy. Never minding it when his wife wanted until it began to be a one sided thing where she would make excuse after excuse not to suck his dick. So he had stopped doing it. Now, he is ravenous, licking through your folds and greedy to hear your moans.

"How do I taste?" you ask, mimicking his own questions from moments before.

He grunts, flicking his tongue against your clit and slapping your thigh. Enjoying your cheekiness as he works his jaw, wanting you to scream.

"Tell me," you beg, as he starts sucking your clit, pulling you closer and closer to that edge.

"Like Christmas." He grunts, pulling his lips away for a moment before he slides his tongue back up to your quivering entrance to tongue fuck you.

The noise that you make is indescribable, filthy yet so innocent as he starts to thrust his tongue in and out of you. Your finger finds your throbbing clit and you start to rub slow circles into it as he takes you apart with his tongue.

Dave's hand smacks yours, pulling it away. You aren't going to cum from anything you do to your body if you are in bed with him. You wanted him, you're going to get him.

You yelp as he slaps away your hand and he growls into your core. "Dave, please," you beg, over and over, not sure what you're pleading for but needing more.

Instead of chastising you, he gives you what you need. Sliding his tongue out of your dripping, quivering cunt, he moves back down to your clit and pushes two thick fingers inside you to replace his tongue.

The stretch from his fingers makes you sink your teeth into your lip, his are so much thicker than yours and it's almost too much. His tongue laps at you like he's a starved man, and it isn't long before your arms are threatening to give way and your thighs are shaking from the pleasure ripping its way through your body, and you're unable to speak even a single word as pleasure overwhelms you.

Dave hums against your clit, providing that slight vibration against your bundle of nerves as he sucks again. Not able to see your face, he's feeling and hearing your reaction and it's something beautiful and satisfying.

"I think I'm gonn-oohhh," you gasp before cumming hard on his tongue and around his fingers. Squeezing them so tightly it swear you hear him groan. "Fuck."

He isn't greedy right now. He doesn't pull his fingers back and immediately move. Working you through it with slow pumps of his fingers and flicks of his tongue.

"All other men are officially ruined," you breathe out with a giggle, coming down from your high and loving the unexpected soft attention from him as you do so.

He chuckles as he pulls away, straightening and curling his fingers slightly before he pulls them out of your cunt and dragging you up off the bed to offer them to you to taste.

You wonder if he heard you wince as he removed his fingers, not used to the thickness of him. A smile spreads across your face before you take his fingers in your mouth, sucking gently before pulling off with a pop. "I read a story once, where she tasted them mixed together... Can we try that later?"

He hums, smirking slightly as his other hand cups your breast. "You are a curious little slut." He teases, not meaning it negatively. He likes that you are curious. That you want to try all your desires. Pre-cum from his cock smears across your lower back.

"I plan on making the most of my one night with you," you admit, before turning around to face him.

"Interesting." He smirks and squeezes your ass. "Now, do you want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please." You reply excitedly, "Fuck me, sir."

It's not exactly gentle, the way he pushes you down onto the bed, although he makes sure you are comfortable before he follows. Sliding between your quickly spreading thighs, his hips are cradled by yours and he lays his throbbing cock against your mound as he slowly gives you his weight, letting you feel him spread over you.

"Dave," you moan, as he throbs against your clit. Nerves dancing around in your tummy as you get ready to take your first ever cock, "Please."

"Please what?" He teases again, brushing his lips against yours while he rocks his hips playfully. "You want something, you have to tell me."

"Kiss me," it's not what you were begging for, but the way his lips brushed against yours, has you needing more.

He knows that wasn't what you meant to say, but he chuckles. Giving into your pretty begging, he kisses you and slides his tongue along your lips.

You can't help but moan against his lips, before opening yours and letting his tongue gain entry. Your hand finds its way into his hair and you press him closer, the kiss becoming more frantic as you do so.

He doesn't rush you. Making out like he's not aching to sink into your virgin walls and claim you. His tongue caresses yours and he groans into your mouth.

Your spare hand trails down his back, your fingernails lightly digging in and leaving small scratches and marks wherever they can. "Fuck me, Dave," you beg softly against his lips, before resuming your kiss.

Pulling his hips back slightly, Dave moves his cock with his hand, rubbing it up and down your folds before he presses against your entrance. "With pleasure."

You take a deep breath, ready for him to shove his cock into you, but he's much slower than you're anticipating. Pushing in inch by inch and letting you adjust to the width of him. 

Even if his hand was forced, he's not going to make this any harsher than it needs to be. Slowly rocking his hips as he fills you. Keeping his lips on yours as he gathers you closely.

It makes you hiss as he stretches you open, your fingernails digging a little harsher into his skin until he fills you to the hilt. 

"Not a virgin anymore." He murmurs against your lips, making sure that he doesn't move while you get used to the feeling of him inside you.

"Thank you," you reply, "You feel so big, Dave."

"I am big." He hums, not boasting but he's got a good sized cock.

"And you’re all mine tonight," you say with a giggle, "You can move. I want you to feel good."

Making a sound of agreement, Dave starts to move Grinding deeper before pulling his hips back to start a slow and steady rhythm. While he wants to wreck you, there is time for that later. He needs you to get used to his cock and enjoy the ride.

You're surprised at how quickly the pleasure drowns out the ache of pain. "Feels so good," you murmur as he slightly increases his pace, searching for that spot inside of you. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

He rolls his hips down, rewarded when you squeal and your walls clench down around his cock. "There it is." He groans with a grin on his face as he makes sure to hit against that spot again and again with every thrust.

You swear that you can see stars as he notches against a part of you that you've never been able to reach. Your walls greedily suction around him as he pulls out your pleasure with ease. "Tell me how I feel," you beg, needing to hear how good you're making him feel.

"Tightest little cock sleeve I've ever been in." He groans, being purposefully filthy and moaning in your ear. "So goddamn hot and tight around me." He hisses when you clench down around him in response to his filthy words. "Gonna fuck you all night, just leave you on my cock."

"Please," you gasp out at his words, camping down around him as he notches against paradise. "Fill me up, make this pussy yours."

"Gonna." He grits out, clenching his teeth together and snarling when you wrap your legs around his waist. His next thrust is harsher than he meant, unable to hold back as he surges forward and fills you with his cock. 

You cry out as he snaps his hips, and he immediately covers your mouth with his. Gripping onto to you as he rocks his hips, fucking into that spot whilst possessively claiming your lips.

He keeps his thrusts sharper, enjoying the way that you respond and clench around him. Loving how your nails scratch down his back and mark him up for Carol to see. He groans into your mouth and reaches down to hitch your leg higher on his hip, wanting to get even deeper.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge, seconds away from falling over. The sound of him grunting your name sends you flying, white hot pleasure ripping through you as you scream his name, your cunt clamps down hard around his throbbing cock before flooding around him. 

He hadn't expected you to cum so quickly but he groans, rocking you through it with the same pace that had worked you up to your orgasm. Watching as you thrash under him and feeling the small catch in his throat when you whimper his name after screaming it.

"Fuck," you choke out, as he continues to chase his high. Your pussy still fluttering around his throbbing cock as you come down from your high. "You're incredible," you murmur against his lips, "So fucking incredible."

"You're incredible." He grunts, knowing that you want reassurance that you are good. "Gonna make me cum if I'm not careful."

"I want you to cum," you say, bumping your nose against his,

"Fuck, I want to feel you dripping from me.

You are filthy and he loves that. Twitching inside you as he chuckles. "Then you'll drip me while I recover." He promises, quickening his pace to one that he wanted to fuck you at.

He punches the air from your lungs as he chases his high, fucking you into the mattress as you bite down onto his shoulders uncaring about the marks you'll leave. You want to tell him that he feels better than you imagined, how all the books and videos on Bellessa House didn't prepare you for just how incredible it all feels.

Dave's hands run down your thighs, pulling them up more as he snaps his hips down, fucking furiously into you.Wanting to fuck away the traitorous thoughts in his head. He grunts. "Fuck. Shit-you- tight."

The pace is dizzying, the pleasure accompanied by a little twang of pain making your head spin. Opening your eyes you concentrate on his face, his pupils blown wide with lust as he grunts over and over, his pace getting a little sloppier with every thrust as he nears his high.

He feels his body starting to tighten. Balls pulling up against his body and he hisses out a curse as his hips stutter. "Fuck." Thrusting twice more, he grinds his cock deep and moans your name as he paints your walls with hot spurts of cum, emptying himself into you.

You moan louder with every spurt of cum that he fills you up with, never wanting to lose this feeling of being caught beneath him. "That was incredible," you murmur after a few moments of panting and catching breaths. "Thank you."

He hums and looks down at you with a small smirk. "You're welcomed?" He asks. "Maybe I should be thanking you."

"No," you say with a little shake of your head, "That was perfect. Better than I had ever imagined. How are you feeling?" You ask as he hooks your leg around his hip and lays down next to you, keeping his cock nestled inside.

He snorts, rolling his eyes at your question. "I just took your virginity." He reminds you. "I should be asking you how you feel." You shrug slightly and he sighs. "Surprisingly good for being the first time l've cheated on my wife." He tells you.

"Do you regret it?" You ask, stroking his face and trying to ignore the way it stung a little as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you happy you came?"

"I don't regret it." He promises, leaning into your touch. "And I am happy that I came. Pun completely intended." He jokes.

"Good," you say with a smile, your fingertips rubbing the softest circles into his face. "I'm really happy that you came, I see how stressed you've been... And I just feel the need to take some of that away from you." 

"You see that I'm stressed?" His brow furrows in surprise, sure that he had carried the stress well. At least Carol had not asked about it in a long time.

"You carry it on your shoulders," you say, before pressing a light kiss to the tip of his nose. "And in your eyes."

"Why would you care?" He seriously doesn't understand why you would want to ease his stress.

You immediately notice the change in him, and you worry you've overstepped. "You just work so hard... I'm sorry."

"No." Dave reaches for your hand when you pull it back, keeping it on his face. "I don't mean it like that." He explains. "I just don't know why you would care about me."

"Why not? You work so hard to look after your family." You resume drawing the little circles on his face with your fingertips, "I'm not saying I didn't want to do this for selfish reasons, but really I just wanted to give you some relief."

It's quite possibly the most touching thing that someone has done for him in a long time. Despite the headache he got from Carol, he feels relaxed. He hums and rolls onto his back, pulling you on top of him. "Then you need to keep relieving me tonight." He grunts, eyes closed and a hint of a smile on his face.

"However you need," you say with a giggle, before bending over and recapturing his lips with a bruising kiss.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly, wanting to make sure that he hadn't hurt you.

"I'm really fucking good," you say, before nudging your nose against his. "Better than I have been in a long time."

"Good." He accepts that, sighing softly as he wonders what the fuck will happen now. He's enjoying being here with you. Liking how you are soft and sweet with him.

"Do you wanna order room service, baby?" You ask, loving the way he pulls you even closer. "See if I can make you cum again before it arrives?" 

"What do you want to eat?" He asks. "Might be harder for you to make me cum the second time around."

"I'm up for a challenge, and mhmmm... breakfast sounds good."

"Are you one that can eat breakfast anytime?" He asks with a chuckle, thinking of all the times Alice demands pancakes for dinner.

"I could eat you anytime," you giggle, "But yes. IHOP is my idea of a romantic date."

He snorts and shakes his head. "So I shouldn't tell you that I make better pancakes, hmmm?"

"Not unless you're planning on making me some," you murmur against his lips, "Order food, baby."

"You have to move off me." He reminds you in a teasing tone as he squeezes your hips.

"Hurry," you say, before moving off him and shooting him an exaggerated pout. "Extra maple syrup."

The menu is by the phone on the desk across from the bed.

Striding over to it nude, Dave is very aware of your eyes on him as he picks up the receiver and connects to the kitchen to place the order.

Your eyes roam up and down his body, taking in every delicious inch. He's gorgeous. Broad and begging to be touched... tasted.

He orders you pancakes, extra maple syrup with eggs and a mimosa. A steak for himself, with eggs and toast to keep with the breakfast theme. Turning back towards you as he finishes up the order. "Anything else?"

"Just you," you say with a smirk.

Rolling his eyes, he pulls the phone back up to his mouth.

"That's it. Thanks." Hanging up, he watches you watch him for a moment, finding the fascination in your eyes slightly thrilling.

"Come here," you tell him softly.

He could resist, probably should reestablish the power dynamic but he finds that he doesn't want to. Humming quietly, he walks towards you, keeping his eyes on you.

"Kiss me, Dave York, and then tell me what you want me to do to you."

You are an intoxicating mixture of submissive and demanding, making it hard to judge what will come out of your mouth. "If you want me to fuck you again, you better suck my cock."

The moment he's laying down, you're crawling down the bed and positioning yourself between his legs. He's half hard and you feel your core get wetter at the thought of him hardening in your mouth. "With pleasure."

Eagerly, you take his cock into your mouth, making him groan before you pull off of him. He grunts, but is satisfied when you lick up the length of him. "Fuck. Greedy little thing, aren't you?" He huffs happily.

You hum happily around his length, gently sucking his cock and loving how it feels as he gets harder and harder in your mouth.

Dave reaches down, his hand smoothing over your hand and around to your jaw. Feeling it open and work as you bob up and down on his cock. "Does it turn you on?" 

You nod yes, too greedy to pull off to speak. This is the only night you get him and you refuse to let a moment go to waste. You hollow your cheeks like you've seen in porn and moan in pleasure around him.

"Less suction." He urges you, smirking down at your wide eyes.

"Don't suck my soul out. I don't have one."

You pull off him and shake your head, "Yes you do. No one loves their kids the way you love those girls without a soul, Dave."

"They are my kids." He tells you. "Of course I love them."

"You have a soul, Dave," you say again softly, before taking him back in your mouth. He's fully hard and you're on a race against the clock to get him to cum again before food arrives. You swallow over and over as you take him as deep as you can, trying hard not to gag as you start bobbing up and down.

He watches, groaning when he's bucking his hips up slightly.

"Good girl." He moans your name quietly, feeling his body responding to your eager mouth.

You gently stroke the parts of him you can't fit into your mouth, wanting him to flood your mouth with his cum, needing to make this moment just about him. You double down on your efforts while remaining conscious that you've only done this once before earlier this evening. The groans he rewards you with spurring you on as his hips start to rock in and out of your greedy little mouth. 

"Do you want me to cum in your mouth?" Dave grunts, wondering if you want him to fill your pussy again or mouth this time.

The smile that spreads across your face even with your mouth stuffed full of his cock makes him chuckle. You gently nod, not wanting to hurt him, still bobbing up and down. The ache between your legs growing stronger and stronger with every passing second.

His groan of your name is strained, nearly unheard as it's forced from his throat with all the air in his lungs. His body tensing up and his balls pulling tight against his body for the second time tonight.

You hum in delight as he starts to spill down your throat, one of his hands holding your head still as he rocks his hips.

The salty tang of him is addictive and you hope it's not the only time time he'll finish in your mouth tonight. You swallow as much as you can, feeling some slip from the corner of your lips and he fills you up. Each one of his thrusts coming with a raspy groan of pleasure.

You gently pull off him as he hisses from the overstimulation, making eye contact, you gather up the cum that's dripping down your chin and neck and bring it up to your lips, being sure to swallow every drop. "You taste delicious, Mr York."

The knock at the door interrupts you both and Dave springs up. Reaching for his boxers as he looks back at you. "Get under the covers."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle, loving how possessive he is.

Dave opens the door, sure that it's not Carol coming to scream at you, he had not let her know where he was taking you. The waiter nods and he backs up to allow him to bring the tray in. "On the table is fine." He tells him, looking at where you're peeking out over the covers.

You avoid eye contact with the waiter, focusing on watching Dave. Your eyes scanning his broad shoulders and feeling yourself grow more desperate to feel him again. You whisper a soft 'thank you' to the waiter as he puts the tray down and makes his way back towards the door.

Only after the lock is flipped again does Dave start to chuckle. "That man wanted to see you so bad, I thought he was going to strain his eyes."

You whip off the covers and raise an eyebrow, "Do you wanna call him back?" You tease as he shakes his head.

"Think I'll keep you to myself." He decides, motioning you over. "Come eat. Don't get dressed."

"Please do," you say as you slide off the bed and stroll over to him. Unashamed of your nakedness in front of him, because you feel so at ease. "I'm starved."

"Good." He winks and starts to pull the covers off the dishes. "If you spill syrup on yourself, I'll just lick it off you."

"Sounds like you're trying to make me spill it." You take a mouthful of the soft fluffy pancakes and moan in delight,

"Second best thing I've tasted this evening."

"What's the first?" He asks, smirking slightly and finding your flirty, playful humor to be far more enjoyable than he had thought you would be. You always seemed so nervous around him.

"I think you know," you say, before reaching over and stealing a fry from his plate. "How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly good." Dave tells you, smirking slightly and pushing his plate towards you. "I don't like being forced to do something, so I had thought I would resent tonight. But I have enjoyed myself."

"Did you really feel forced?" You ask, feeling your face drop.

"I wouldn't have said shit, I can't believe I even suggested it;

I think it was because she was being so mean."

"No." He shakes his head, wishing he hadn't said anything to you. Not liking the way your face has fallen and you look upset. "I don't feel forced. You gave me the excuse to touch you."

"Good," you say quietly, biting down on your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. "I-uh, you know you can leave if you want to? I'll sign anything, I’ll do anything, but I think you already know that I'd never do anything that you could get implicated in and get you in trouble."

"I'm not leaving." Dave assures you. "I think we are past signing anything, don't you?"

"Yes," you reply, a small smile briefly lifting your lips upwards, before you dig back into your food.

"Good." He smirks slightly as he watches you eat. You've got a good appetite.

"What do you want to do after this?" You ask, between bites of pancakes. "I could make you cum again. With my hand this time?"

"You are the one who should tell me how this is going to go." He reminds you. "You are the one without the experience. What do you want to do?"

"I want to ride you."

"Then finish your dinner and I'Il let you climb on top."

"You'll tell me what to do?" You ask, a little embarrassed. "I mean I've seen it in porn, but I want you to feel good."

Dave snorts, nearly choking on his drink and looks over at you to see if you are being serious. "Sweetheart, if your pussy is around my dick, I feel good."

"That's it?" You ask, all wide eyed and hopeful. Gently placing the fork down onto your plate. 

He nods, watching you preen under the praise. "You could sit on my cock while you eat and I would be happy."

"Right now, sir?" Your voice softly begs, as you stare into those dark brown eyes.

You continuously surprise him. He pushes back from the table and lifts his hips to take off his boxers. "Come sit."

You push your plate across the table before standing up and stepping towards him. "Yes sir." Grateful that you're still slick enough for him to slide in, you slowly lower yourself as he guides his cock towards your entrance. "Fuck. How do you feel thicker like this?"

The angle is better but he's too busy groaning your name to tell you that. Gripping your hips and closing his eyes in bliss.

"Feel good baby?" You ask, with a giggle. Feeling his thighs tighten beneath you as you clench around him.

"Feels good." Dave breathes out. "How does it feel for you?"

He asks, sliding his hands up to explore your body shamelessly as you sit on his throbbing cock.

"Incredible." Shamelessly you lean your head back and rest it on his shoulder, loving the way his hands feel on you. 

"I think we are doing a good job of making the most of this one night," you say before grinding down on him. Clenching as tight as you can around him. 

He hisses, jaw clenching at how good it feels. How tight you are gripping him. "Gonna make sure you remember this." He grunts.

"Fuck," you groan, as you rock your hips. His grip on you getting tighter as you rest your head back on his shoulder. "I know you are."

His hand possessively comes back around the front of your waist and holds you tight. Fusing you to him as he snaps his hips hard and fast to see your reaction in his sudden change of pace. Loving the innocent yet filthy moan of his name that he steals from your throat.

Dave digs his fingers into your waist, wanting to leave tender marks for you to remember him by. Bruises that you can press and remember how he had held you, fucked you. "Another moan." He demands, driving his hips up again. "More."

You give into his demand so easily, letting the room fill with the sounds of your pleasure. You push down and meet each thrust of his hips with your own, feeling pleasure course through your body, making your eyes roll back and your clit throb.

This has been to get back at Carol, to give you what you want to shut you up, but right now, this is for him. Watching you start to cum is his own personal little pleasure.

Knowing that he is making your eyes roll back is a thrill.

"Dave," you mumble softly, feeling the coil inside of you threaten to snap and throw you over that edge as he fucks up into you. "Please." You start to beg over and over as it starts to feel all too much but not enough at once.

He hums, continuing to rock up into you at a harsh pace.

Wondering what you are asking him. For him to cum, for him to make you cum again. He hisses out your name and drags you down for a kiss.

His lips are possessive and rough but you love it. His hand grips your jaw as he kisses you hard while continuing to grind his hips.

You murmur his name softly against his plush lips, before interlacing your fingers with his and bringing his hand up to your breast. "Make me yours."

He follows your lead, groping your breast and tangling his tongue against yours again. Taking control and wrapping his other arm around you and lifting you up onto the table, scattering the dishes. 

"Tell me what you need," you murmur against his lips, as he tightens the grip he has on you and as you wrap legs around his waist.

Dave shoots to his feet, crowding over you. "Let me-" he grabs your thighs and pulls them up onto your waist. "Hang on."

"Yes sir," you say with a little giggle. "What are we doing?"

You watch his face, as he stares down at you, clearly enjoying the view. The urge to reach up and gently brush his cheek becomes overwhelming but you figure that may be overstepping a line, so you wait patiently for him to make his next move. 

He stares for a few moments, rolling his jaw a few times before letting himself go."Tight little pussy," he growls quietly, before cupping your cunt and swiftly moving his hand up to your chest. "Perfect tits." He squeezes your breast roughly for a few moments and quickly let's go so he can grip your trembling jaw.

"Enthusiastic little mouth, you're being absolutely perfect for me... aren't you? Are you trying to make it difficult for me? Make it impossible to keep you for just one night?" You blink up at him, all doe eyed and innocent, staying completely still and silent as his hands roam your body.

Mumbling filth and praises and reminding you that no else has ever touched you how he's touching you right now, no one else has ever buried themselves deep in your perfect cunt and tasted your cum.

"I was furious," Dave admits after a few moments of silence, with a shake of his head. “Another careless mess she left me to clear up. But fuck, this time I might thank her when I get home." He tucks his thumb underneath your jaw and tilts your head up a little, before smashing his lips against yours. The kiss is quick, but it's consuming, the kind that makes you curl your toes and gasp for air... the kind that leaves your body begging for more. "I don't think I've felt this relaxed in years, or this happy."

"Dave," you breathe out and he immediately shushes you and presses another kiss to your lips.

"Will you let me show you how thankful I am, baby girl?"

"Yes," you breathe out, the easiest question you've ever had to answer.

You're still comfortably perched on the table, and he takes his seat in front of you again before he spreads your legs and places them over his shoulders.

The view has his cock twitching. Your pretty little pussy glistening with both of your arousal, his cum still slowly dripping from you. The heat of his breath coats your cunt and it sends the most delicious shiver down your spine as he teases what's to come.

"Should I lick this pretty little clit?" He murmurs against your thigh before gently sinking his teeth into it, "Or should I shove my tongue into that pretty little asshole? Watch you squirm as I eat your ass?"

He watches the way your chest starts to heave up and down, loving the innocence sketched across your face. "I'm going to lick your clit, and have you cum on my face and then you're going to taste yourself from my lips." He decides out loud, but not before gently biting your thigh again.

Your innocence is so appealing. Your enthusiasm for him is intoxicating. Dave hasn't felt this good about sex in years, since Alice was born. Definitely not as eager to eat Carol out as he is you.

Every flick of his tongue is calculated, he's taking his time, wanting to watch you come undone slowly and not wanting to rush this. He can tell you're eager for more, and you'll get it, but right now every swipe of his tongue is designed to make you beg for more. He needs to hear it, and the louder you'll be for him, the more he'll give to you.

There's something completely thrilling about taking someone's pleasure and making it his own. Controlling it.

Controlling you through it. It's just as satisfying as pulling a trigger, in some ways more so, because the people he fucks know him.

A soft whimper of his name stumbles from your lips as he methodically licks at your clit, loving every tremble of your thighs and shaky exhale he's pulling from you. "P-please," you beg quietly and wantonly as he picks up his pace a little bit.

Your fingers gently weave through his hair, pulling him closer to you as he flicks and sucks at your clit, groaning in pleasure as you moan his name.

There's something innocent about your face as he works you up. Even as dirty as it is, you still look innocent. Making him more determined to pull you apart.

You can feel that little coil inside of you threatening to snap, as your thighs start to shake uncontrollably. The sound of his groans paired with the expert flick of his tongue making you see stars and moan his name so sweetly.

He growls into your core, as your fingers twist in his hair as everything starts to go dark. Your eyes rolling back into your head as you teeter over that delicious edge.

"Cum," he growls, lips still attached to your clit and you can't deny him. Your thighs tighten around his head as your thrown so deliciously over that edge, your back arching as you press his head closer to your pussy. 

Dave groans, changing from sucking on your clit to lapping delicately at your folds. Tasting the sweetness that pours from you as you shake.

You weakly call out his name as your orgasm continues to course throughout you. His mouth is still working its magic, as you tremble beneath him, and your fingers start rubbing soft circles into the back of his head.

"You. Are. Amazing." You say, before erupting in a fit of giggles, fingers gripping on to the edge of the table to steady yourself. "Is it my turn to take care of you?"

He doesn't answer, instead he does exactly what he said he was going to do and presses his lips to yours, letting you taste your arousal straight from his lips. Keeping your mouth pressed to his as he explores your mouth enthusiastically, loving the way he can pull those sweet little moans from you with just his kiss.

"Finish eating baby girl," he says with a wink, "The night is still young and I've not had my fill of you just yet."

You pull yourself up from the table, and take a seat next to his, smiling at the way he immediately pulls your chair closer and you both eat your dessert in a comfortable silence.

"Dave... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he grunts back, squeezing your thigh slightly.

"Why do you put up with it? I understand you have the girls but everyone knows they worship the ground you walk on." You say with a shaky breath, scared of overstepping a line.

"Baby, you deserve to have someone waiting at home that'll treat you right. That'll show you just how grateful they are for you. How much they love you."

Dave frowns slightly, punching his brow together and he wonders why you care so much, although it's nice that you do. "Carol- she knows the darkest parts of me." He tells you. "Things that would give you nightmares and run away screaming."

"You know the darkest parts of her," you counter back.

"You're clearly working overtime to clear them up. So she can't use dark secrets against you in court." Your hand finds his and you lace your fingers with his, "You waltz into my house and insinuated that you could get rid of every trace of me, Dave, and here I am.. Am I running right now?"

You make a good point and Dave slowly shakes his head. “Why?” He asks quietly. “I’m married, I’m a killer. You should be running. You shouldn’t have given me your virginity.”

“I have no regrets,” you say with a shrug, noticing the change in him. “Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” He huffs. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

You move closer to him, and place your hands on his chest. “And there’s nothing wrong with you, Dave.”

He stares at you for a moment and contemplates your point. “And you think I should leave Carol.” He is talking out loud. “I would get less time with my kids and she’d be a bitch about things.”

“You deserve to be happy, and you don’t need to worry about not seeing the girls. Anyone would happily stand up and testify that you’re an incredible father, Dave.” you say with a smile. “And whatever happens, no matter how tough it gets, you can always call me. Anytime you need to talk… or if you need a little stress relief… maybe I could find a way to help with that?”

Dave arches a brow at your suggestion, basically an invitation to continue this if he wanted. “Yeah?” The smug smirk returns. “Liked it that much, huh?” You are far from a slut, but the idea of making you *his* slut is broadly appealing.

“Dave,” you say, before biting down on your lip for a few seconds and then letting go, “I fucking loved it. The things I want you to do to me… I’d let you do anything. You are intoxicating.”

He looks at you for a moment and then chuckles. “You might just be worth it.” He muses, reaching out and cupping your cheek. Patting it lightly and then gripping your chin. His phone starts to buzz in his pants pocket on the floor and he shakes his head when your eyes slide over there to the pile. “Just leave it. Let her stew.” He decides. “She’ll fuck up.” The prediction is an easy one. “She always does.”

“I’d really like you to fuck me again, Mr. York,” you say with a giggle ignoring the buzzing as he instructed, your chin still comfortably nestled in his hand. “Do you think you’ve got another round in you?” You tease as you gently squeeze his cock, loving the way he hisses in response.

“You’re gonna be a brat.” Dave growls. “I can tell. You fuck a girl one time and now she’s addicted.” He’s teasing, known that he’s going to fuck you again as soon as he gets hard. As long as you aren’t sore.

“Are you surprised?” You tease back, “How could I not have gotten addicted, baby? You are delicious. And yes. I’ll be brat if I have to be.” You press your lips to his and gently bite down on his bottom lip. “The things I’m going to beg you to do to me.”

“Like what?” He wants to know how dirty you are, what you want. “What would you beg me to do to you? Darkest little secret.”

You feel your cheeks burn as he stares at you, ready to hear all the filthy thoughts you’ve had about him. “You could tie me up,” you say quietly, “Keep me tied up until you’ve used me for as long as you want. Cover me in your cum.”

“*Nasty*.” He smirks and gives a small chuckle. “I think you would like that, wouldn’t you?” It’s interesting that you would have such filthy dreams when you were just so innocent. His cock twitches and he watches your eyes fall to his groin.

“I want you to use me for your own pleasure,” you say, as you gently rub his cock. “However you want.”

He groans quietly and starts to harden under your touch. “You sore?”

“A little,” you admit, “But nothing I can’t handle.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits quietly and sincerely. He’s a dick, and an asshole, but he’s not a sadist.

“I’ll tell you if you need to stop,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I want you.”

“Get on your knees.” He orders. “Show me your cunt.”

“I love how filthy you are,” you giggle, before obeying his command.

"I'm a dirty guy." He admits, reaching out and spreading your cheeks to see all of you.

"And all mine for the night." You say, moaning gently as his fingertips drag through your folds.

The phone buzzes again and he doesn't pay it any attention as he starts to push his fingers inside you. Curling them up to press deep. 

You moan his name, nuzzling your face in his neck as he works magic with his fingers. "God. I might not let you leave."

He smirks because he hasn't told you to turn around, but you couldn't resist getting close to him again. "I might not go."

"Seems like i'm not the only one who's got addicted," you tease, between breathy moans.

"Hard to resist when you are so easy." He snorts. "When you're giving it away, why wouldn't I take it?" 

"Easy?" You say, pushing his arm away. "Maybe I won't give it away if that's what you think."

"Hey, I was teasing." He frowns, but he drops his hand when you push him away.

"Make it up to me," you say, a smile spreading across your face to let him know you were teasing.

He huffs and shoots you a halfhearted glare. "You're not funny." He grumbles.

"You're sexy when you're grumpy." You say, grabbing his hand and leading it back towards your cunt.

"Brat." He huffs, but his fingers still find their way back inside you. Perhaps pushing a little harder than necessary, but you moan anyway.

"Your brat," you breathe out, as he starts pumping his fingers and finding that magic spot with ease. "Make me cum and then give me your cock."

"How about I give you my cock and make you cum on it?" He challenges, continuing to finger you roughly and he reaches out with his other hand to slap your ass.

"That sounds perfect," you say with a grin, "Do you like knowing that you're the only man to have ever touched me like this?"

"Fuckin' love it." He admits with a low growl.

"The only man I'd let touch me like this," you admit quietly

He doesn't say anything, but he hears you. His touch turns more possessive, commanding on your body as he works you up.

"I'm close," you choke out, as the delicious coil inside of you threatens to snap. "I would let you do anything to me, Dave. Anything.”

“Then cum for me.” Dave orders, slapping your ass again as you clench down on his fingers.

“Yes sir,” you say, before rocking your hips a little, chasing his fingers and your high. Feeling your pussy possessively pull his fingers back in as your walls flutter around them. “Tell me I'm yours.” You beg, wanting to hear him claim you.

“You’re mine.” He groans. “I marked you, claimed you. Mine.”

“All yours, Dave,” you whimper as your orgasm begins to overwhelm you. “Yours.” You cum hard, a steady stream of arousal coating his hand and wrist as you whisper his name before falling forward onto his chest. Your arms wrap around him, holding him gently as your breaths grow less rapid, your clit still pulsating and your cunt dripping as you come down from your high. It's surprising how comfortable you are with him, feeling nothing but content with him seeing you at your most vulnerable. He had said not long before that you should have never given him your virginity, but you disagree and in this moment you know you could never regret a single moment of any of being with him.

"How do you want me?" You ask quietly, cupping your hands around his jaw.

Dave pulls back slightly as he considers your question. His dark eyes narrowing slightly as he starts to realize that you might have done him a very large favor by demanding to spend a night with him. He had grown complacent, used to dealing with Carol's shit. Living in an honestly unhappy marriage because of the girls and because he knows that she would make his life hell. "Permanently." He decides.

"Sounds like you got addicted to this pussy after all," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips.

"It's a good pussy." He snorts, smirking against your lips.

"You wanna sleep? Or do you wanna fuck me again?" You ask, as he wraps his arms around you just a little tighter.

"Sleep," he says, before placing a quick kiss on your lips. "If you're good, I'll wake you up with my cock." He smirks when you whimper and settles down with you in his arms. "Sleep, baby."

"Goodnight, Dave," you mumble softly before falling into the deepest and most comfortable sleep you've had in ages. Feeling warmer and safer than you ever have, nestled up in his arms.

**

The justification for the way that he rolls you over in your sleep and spreads your legs is simple. The night isn't over.

Neither one of you have left the room and the sun still isn't quite yet peeked over the horizon. Allowing him to fully reason why there's nothing wrong with lining up and pushing inside your tight cunt slowly to watch your eyes start to move under their lids as you start to break free from sleep.

"D-Dave," you stutter incoherently, as he presses against something devastating inside of you. Still fighting sleep as he begins to overwhelm every single one of your senses.

He chuckles mockingly. "You wanted me to wake you up with my cock." His hips slap forward to punctuate his words.

Words refuse to form in your throat, as you let out a stream of pleasured moans and whimpers of his name. He finds that spot with such ease that it knocks the air out of your lungs, you feel your pussy flutter around him as you try to pull him towards you for a kiss.

You're so soft, so warm. Pulling him closer and Dave grunts before he presses his lips to yours. He had woken up harder than a rock and had almost resisted the urge to touch you again, but then your words came back to him. Realizing that you were right.

"Good morning, baby," you say with a giggle, before letting your hand run up and down his spine. Loving the way he starts kissing you between thrusts.

He doesn't answer you, just slides his tongue into your mouth as he pounds into you. Increasing the pace as you wake up.

"Fuck," you garble, as he works you into the mattress. Fucking you harder with each thrust, pulling the filthiest sounds from you as that coil inside of you threatens to snap.

"You gonna cum?" Dave demands through his teeth, breathless from his efforts. "Cream all - fuck - over my cock?"

"Yes!” You call out, your fingernails digging into his warm skin as everything goes dark. Your body starts to convulse beneath him as pleasure pumps throughout you. You hear him telling you to take it all as he keeps the same delicious pace throughout your high.

Dave's never been one to lose himself in sex, but he's completely lost. Unable to think of anything but the clutch of your cunt and your sweet moans. His hips driving forward to hear more.

"Cum," you gasp, as his movements become a little sloppier, moaning as you're still coming down from your high. "Fill me up."

Dave hisses against your lips, fingers digging into your shoulders and he feels his pace falter. "Fuck."

"You feel so good," you murmur against his lips.

Another thrust before he's grunting, pushing deep and moaning your name against your lips as he floods your cunt with ropes of cum. Feeling more relaxed than ever before when he's done and slumping down into your arms.

"You good?" You giggle, as you wrap your arms around him.

"Great." Dave sighs as he tucks his head into your shoulder for a moment more. "Just great."

You glance over at the clock and see it's still early, and decide to hold him a little tighter, letting you both fall into another sleep. Not ready for when he'll pull himself away later that morning.

**

Dave had fallen asleep inside you. When he wakes up again, he can't believe that he actually fell asleep inside you.

Pulling away slowly so he can slip out of the bed and shower, frowning slightly as he thinks about the night and the entire situation while he cleans up.

You wake to the sound of the shower, feeling a twinge of disappointment he snuck out of bed without waking you.

You stay glued to the spot, nestled up comfortably and listen to the sound of the water. The urge to join him grows stronger but you don't act on it, figuring he would have invited you to shower with him it that's what he had wanted.

You wonder if you should start gathering up your things, but you don't, instead you pull the pillow he had slept on closer to you and snuggle into it. Inhaling his scent and letting yourself enjoy the memories from the night before.

Dave showers methodically, like he would if he were coming back from an op. Stripping his skin down to leave no trace of evidence on it, although the same cannot be said this time about his heart or mind. Stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, he's already made the decision that he had been thinking about. Opening the door to find you wrapped around his pillow and smirking as he leans against the frame.

"Good morning," you say quietly, as you look over at him.

Admiring how good he looks as droplets of water drip down his chest.

"How are you feeling?"

"Surprisingly pretty good." Dave admits, looking a little confounded by that. "I normally never sleep well, but I slept through until I was getting up to take a shower." 

"Good," you say with a small smile, not letting up on snuggling the pillow. "I guess I should shower now as well. Before we go back to our regular lives."

Dave shrugs slightly but you don't see it. "Think you might be tipping off the police who caused the damage." He comments.

"No. I promised," you say, panic rising in your voice, "You don't trust me?"

He watches you shoot up off the pillow, your eyes frantic.

"Fine." He shrugs again. "Guess I'll tip them off, then."

"What are you talking about, Dave?" You say, as you pick his shirt up and pull it on, before rounding the bed towards him.

"Decided I'm not going to let Carol keep getting away with shit." He had thought about it in the shower and decided it was the right thing to do.

You place one hand on his chest and the other on his cheek, studying his face for a few seconds before realizing that he's officially done with cleaning up messes that aren't his own. "I can do it. I can talk to them. Request it's anonymous, you don’t need to be the one making the report." 

"Good." Dave nods. "The car hasn't been fixed yet, they should be able to get all the evidence they need off it."

You gently rub your thumb back and forth against his cheek before nodding, "Whatever you want me to say, I'll do it. I'll help however I can."

"Just tell the truth." He smirks at you. "But leave out the part where you fucked her husband."

"That's my favourite party of the story though," you say with a giggle, before pressing a kiss to his lips. "Guess I'll have to keep it to myself."

"You can tell me later on, once the dust has settled." Dave snorts. "There's plenty of evidence of other misdeeds that will be found."

"Sounds like you'll have a lot of stress that you'll somehow need to work out, Mr. York."

He snorts, smirking at you and tilts his head. "Stressful job, stressful life, about to be a single parent." He chuckles.

"Hope your little pussy is ready to be pounded every night while I work out that 'stress'.”

"Ready and wanting." You say before smashing your lips against his and wrapping your arms around him. "Anytime you need me."

[3 months later]

A smile stretches across your face as he crawls up from the bottom of the bed, his cock hanging hard and heavy between his legs as he pushes yours open.

With a possessive growl and he calls you his before slipping inside of you in one fluid motion, capturing your lips as he fills you to the hilt.

It had been a new start for you both, and you couldn't be happier that you started it together, with the girls.

Who'd have thought that witnessing that little wreck would have been the best thing that had ever happened to you?

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind -ongoing

Pairing-Dave York x f!reader x Francisco Morales

Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and he wants you to himself?

CW-18+,MDNI, Soulmates AU,Slow-ish burn Angst, Fluff, Eventual smut, mfm dynamics. General warnings for all chapters. Pov switch throughout.

A/N- I’ll be taking liberties with both characters.

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

[dave-me0wstaine]

Dave rearranging your guts.........

anon... your brain is so powerful. also you didn't specify so i've decided that this will be about bad boy! dave. sorry i dont make the rules i just enforce them

anyways! dave would be the king of rearranging your guts. truly the definition of having a big cock and knowing how to use it. he'd put you in the best positions to make sure his cock is so deep you feel it in your tummy. like he'd be so good at grinding and rolling his hips omg. all you could do was squeal and writhe on his cock.

like imagine, he's got you laid out on your back, a pillow underneath your hips and your legs resting on his broad shoulders, he's sitting back on his haunches and just. plowing into you. and he's got a thumb rubbing at your clit in time with his thrusts, cooing at how you're squirming around, almost trying to run away from his cock.

"what's wrong baby? you feel that? you feel my cock deep in your tummy? is it too much for you?"

and if you nod yes, he grinds into you, giving you a (very) small reprieve as he caresses your face, telling you "you can take it, baby. know you can, yeah? be good and take it for me."

and after sex you'd be so sore. borderline tummy ache from how good he fucked you <33

[wordywarriorwrites]

Trouble

A03 | Pairing: Dave York x OFC | Rating: M

Warnings: Mentions of violence. Language. Smut. Angst.

Summary: Dave's in hiding and always on the move. He knows better than to allow himself to be drawn in, but this time, he just can't help it.

A/N: For @yxtkiwiyxt's Never Have I Ever Challenge. Also, "Trouble" by Ray LaMontagne played repeatedly in my head while writing this.

A tiny café in Podunk town, with only two tables and no security camera. Their version of a morning rush (ten patrons – six women, four men) had come and gone an hour ago. Dave people-watched, mentally mapped out exit strategies, and sized up items he could use as weapons.

But he hadn’t prepared himself for her.

Black shoes, black pants, and a purple sweater. Dark hair and dark eyes. A lemon poppyseed muffin and a steaming cup three times the size he had in his hand. His mind calculated her. Assessed her. Turned her over until he concluded she was simply a late arrival and posed no threat.

“May I?” she asked, index finger pointed toward the empty chair across from him.

Dave knew what he looked like – unshaven, with threadbare clothes, unkempt hair, and an overgrown beard. He no longer bothered with the eyepatch because he was badly scared and had grown weary of trying to hide it for the comfort of others. He was clean but wanted to appear haphazard and unapproachable, and most people – especially women – averted their gaze or looked right through him, which was how he preferred it.

The other table, situated beneath a large, overly blurred poster of a coffee bean, had been taken up by a middle-aged woman with a cellphone that she was manically glued to. He'd gotten a brief glimpse of the screen and knew the lady’s poison was online slots. Addicts were everywhere, even in small towns, and her wild eyes indicated that she had zero intention of leaving the only place other than the library that offered free Wi-Fi.

“That’s Veronica,” she whispered gently. “She’s… Well, she’s struggling.”

Between the choice of sitting with him or the twitchy gambler, this woman seemed to find him the lesser of two evils. Dave wasn’t flattered or insulted by it. He could’ve left – just vacated his seat, taken his overpriced java and too-dry hunk of banana bread, and walked right out the door. He could’ve gotten back into his shitty car and kept on down the road, but he didn’t.

Instead, he looked up at her, and when he met her eyes, he realized the mistake in his assessment. She wouldn’t slit his throat – that much he was confident about – but she was trouble of a different kind, and something about her made a synapse fire in his brain. Dave hadn’t meant to nod because even the most innocuous things, like sharing a table with a stranger, could cause problems.

But then, she smiled, and that was that.

A nondescript Toyota, with a false VIN and fake plates – that was Dave’s home and mode of transportation. A flat tire should’ve been relatively easy to deal with, but he couldn’t get the damn thing off with the tools he had on hand. Being trapped had thrown him into an even higher plane of hypervigilance, and though several people had slowed down and offered to help him, he’d either ignored or refused them.

Then, she arrived.

Her vehicle – a dark green truck with an open bed and flashing hazard lights – slowed to a stop right next to his. There hadn’t been a polite offer for Dave to refuse or disregard because she hadn’t bothered with one. She simply climbed down from her truck, snagged her toolbox from the back, and joined him on the side of the road.

“Well,” she sighed as she rolled up the sleeves of her maroon-colored hoodie and crouched beside him. “Looks like you’ve damaged your nuts.”

In the past, he would have laughed and maybe even engaged in some light banter. But this wasn’t the past, and he wasn’t amused.

The silence that followed was broken only by an occasional car passing by. Her bolt extractor and hammer, his brute strength and stubbornness – a winning combination that saw the flat removed and the equally pitiful spare put into place.

She stood tall and wiped her hands on her dark blue jeans, “You’re going bald.”

Dave grunted and packed up the toolbox. The flat went into the trunk, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw her gesture with a pointed toe encased in a leather loafer toward his back passenger tire. It should’ve been replaced thousands of miles ago, but he kept that to himself. He kept all his thoughts to himself and slammed the trunk shut.

If she thought him rude, she didn’t show it; she just recommended a shop a couple of blocks over that would give him a fair price on a set if he was interested.

He quirked a brow.

She retrieved her toolbox, waved, and took off without a backward glance.

Dave no longer had the pretty face he once had, nor did he have access to CIA-level tech, but he still could learn things about people when he put his mind to it.

He found out her name. Discovered she was the town’s resident bookkeeper, and she worked from home. Was informed that she preferred appointments, but also took walk-ins, and her standard order at the café was a triple-shot espresso.

And chestnut brown, Dave decided, was the color of her hair.

A small, one-story brick house on the end of Corduroy Lane, with an antique-looking business sign in the front yard that listed her services and credentials. A solitary concrete step that led up to a stoop too small to be classified as a porch. A bright red door. A brass claddagh knocker.

The last notes of the bell had just faded when she answered, dressed in black slacks and a pale green button down, face fixed into a professional expression. A practiced exterior that faded quickly, followed by a pleasant greeting and a smile – neither of which he returned. Instead, he held the coffee he’d purchased for her aloft and gestured for her to take it.  

She accepted it with a small nod, and as she sipped, Dave thought what an easy target she’d make.

A single woman who worked alone and most likely lived alone. The kind of woman who invited strangers into her home, trusting they wouldn’t hurt her as she poured over their financials and unwittingly learned all their dirty, little secrets. The type of woman who sat at tables with men she didn’t know, who stopped and helped them change flat tires and accepted coffee from them. A woman ignorant to the danger that could reach out and grab her at any time… 

“Do you like pizza?” she wondered.

Dave blinked. Nodded.

“Fiona’s - the bar around the corner - makes a good pie.”

That smile of hers appeared again. A car door slammed shut.

“Sorry to cut this short, but my next appointment is here,” she announced, eyes momentarily pulled to the delicate timepiece on her right wrist before returning to him. “Thanks for the coffee.”

Dave may have shrugged. He might not have. All he knew as he headed back down the sidewalk toward his car with its’ four brand-new tires that had depleted nearly all his savings was that she needed a better deadbolt for her front door.

By the time Dave arrived at the bar, she was already two slices into an extra-large meat lovers, and the pint of beer she’d ordered was half-empty.  

A high back stool with legs that wobbled like a newborn foal. Tomato sauce and oregano and maraschino cherries. A stereo that blasted Guns and Roses fought for dominance with a flat screen that had been turned on to the ballgame. A neon Coors Light sign. A sticky floor that made his boots squeak with every step.

“Beer?” she offered.

He nodded, and a few moments later, the bartender slid him a pint of whatever was on draft with an acceptably foamy head. While he settled in, she grabbed a handful of napkins from the pile by her elbow and dropped several slices onto a paper plate.

“Place is a shithole,” she declared as she placed the napkins and plate in front of him.  “But the beer is cold, and the pizza is good.”

Five pieces later, Dave agreed, and her unassuming presence, combined with nobody else joining them at the bar, helped keep his shoulders from crawling up into his earlobes. It was a lot for him – the noise, the smells, the people, the terrible lighting, but seated next to her…

“Diner up the street has fish fry on Fridays,” she voiced. She dipped her crust in a little plastic cup of ranch and shrugged as she brought it to her mouth. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

Dave sat back. Ran a napkin over his mouth. Her profile was soft. Her ears were pierced, but unadorned, and she had a freckle about an inch from her lateral canthus. The high-waisted bellbottoms and buttercup yellow sweater made her look warm. Approachable.

As she chewed, he tried to find something – anything, really – to explain why the hell a good-looking woman like her would bother to give a man like him the time of day. He’d been trained to sniff out subterfuge and knew exactly what pity looked and sounded like, but he could sense none of that.

He finished his beer. The bartender refilled it.

“Fridays?” Dave muttered.

“Fridays,” she replied.   

He nodded. She saluted him with her own refilled glass.

Dave met up with her at the diner on Friday.

Stupid, really, to allow himself to become entangled with her. A risk, too, because of her standing in the town and his unfortunate-looking face. People liked her. Knew her by name. The waitress who brought the menus and silverware covered in water spots eyeballed him hard, and Dave should’ve cared about that, but he hadn’t given a damn.

Because he was uncharacteristically horny. And suddenly starved for attention. Her attention. 

Pathetic.  

“I’ve never broken a bone,” she stated absentmindedly.   

The booth across from them was crammed with high school kids in nearly identical letterman jackets. One boy, maybe sixteen, was seated on the outside, leg outstretched to accommodate a rather large, neon-pink cast. The large “C” on his chest indicated he was the boss of the bunch, and the way the others sucked up to him confirmed it.

Dave had already clocked the rowdy group and the crutches against the wall when he walked in, but still, he followed her gaze until it returned to him. She popped a fry into her mouth and chewed politely while she seemed to consider him.

“Have you?” she eventually wondered as she reached for her drink.

The ice rattled as the straw passed her lips, and the thought of her mouth and all its unknown capabilities burned through him like a shot. Dave imagined how sweet her cola-coated tongue would taste. How nice it would feel wrapped around his cock. He wondered if she’d swallow.

Embarrassed and ashamed, he cleared his throat and looked away. The waitress chose that moment to return and glare at him some more, which he inwardly admitted he deserved. Outwardly, he ignored her. Refills, extra napkins, and more tartar sauce – the topics covered gave him time to compose himself, and when they were alone again, she prodded once more.

“Several,” Dave finally answered.

“Bad accident?”

“Pushed off a cliff.”

She paused mid-squeeze on a lemon wedge, but her eyes never wavered. Even when the waitress came back with their requested items, she didn’t look away. Even when the bell above the door chimed and announced the arrival of more customers, her stare remained focused.

Two toddlers in the booth behind him had been jumping up and down and singing the same refrain of Wheels on the Bus for a solid fifteen minutes. The couple seated behind her had been arguing over everything from the cable bill to the acceptable amount of pepper one should put on mashed potatoes. Someone dropped a plate, and the sound of shattered ceramic momentarily sucked all the noise and levity from the room.

Still, she hadn’t flinched.

Dave had told so many lies about his scars that it had become impossible to remember them all. Even the doctors and nurses who’d saved his life never learned the full details of what happened. She was the only person he’d ever told the truth to, and the unintended admission had somehow made the burden he carried feel less heavy – like simply telling her, even without the gory details, had halved the weight somehow.

Chaos resumed quickly, but the tension remained and stifled the little conversation they’d been having. Eventually, she transferred her purse to her lap and outed two twenties. Crisp, clean, and not at all like the bills he had wadded up in his pocket, she placed them next to her plate and polished off her soda.

The strap of her bag was thin, with a shiny silver buckle, and it slipped over the round of her shoulder without any fuss. When she scooted out of the booth, Dave followed suit, and the narrow, cramped space of the aisle put him in the closest proximity he’d been to a human being since his brush with death.

“I like you,” she asserted.

He stared down at her, “That’s unfortunate.”

Brow furrowed, she turned and headed toward the door. Dave followed her and silently admired her form as she stepped out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. He knew her truck was parked close to the building, which he thought was very sensible, and he escorted her to it.

She outed her keys, “Ever slept with someone on the first date?”

“No,” he answered.

“Me neither,” she admitted. "But I want to. With you."

Once the locks were disengaged, Dave reached for the handle and opened the door for her.

“This wasn’t a date,” he said.

She sighed, “You sure about that?"

It had been two weeks since fish fry Friday.

Well, thirteen days and sixteen hours, to be precise.

Dave’s primary focus had become getting out of town, which he needed money for – a few hundred, at least, if he wanted to put some real distance between himself and this woman who’d started to preoccupy his thoughts entirely too much.

Luckily for him, the town had enough small business owners who supported veterans. Once he’d told them his injuries were war-related, and that it had been hard for him to find steady work, they’d been all too eager to let him do odd jobs in exchange for cash. He was a liar, yes, but not a thief, and it would take a few more days – maybe a week – but only if he stayed focused.

It was Thursday. The clock on the dash signaled it was nearly midnight. He’d just gotten to his preferred parking space – a spot behind the animal shelter that offered direct escape routes, good coverage, and lighting that allowed him to see anything that might come at him.

There was another, smaller lot behind the grocery store, but he only parked there on nights when he couldn’t sleep. Tonight, he was tired. So, he parked at the shelter. And perhaps if he hadn’t been so tired, so focused on getting the hell out of town, on getting the hell away from her, he would’ve noticed her truck when he pulled in.

She emerged from the back door, bag of trash in hand. Head on a swivel, she scanned the lot as she marched toward the dumpster. She opened the lid. Tossed the bag inside. Dave stupidly held his breath, as if that would somehow prevent her from seeing him, but she knew his car.

As soon as she spotted him, she stopped.

Dave had a half tank of gas. The key was still in the ignition. But his treacherous hand went for the door handle instead. The hinges squeaked loudly, and as he slowly climbed out, she crept forward, until she’d moved out of the light and into the shadows with him.

“I volunteer here,” she said.

“I park here,” he replied.

She nodded. Shoved her hands into her pockets. Told him she’d made lasagna, if he was interested in that sort of thing, and headed back inside.

Twenty minutes later, when her truck eased onto the street, he followed.

Dave recalled washing his hands at the kitchen sink. He ate three servings of lasagna. Drank several glasses of water. Whatever happened after he helped clean up was lost on him because, like a fade-to-black moment in a movie, his mind blanked.

When he came back online, it was to the scent of dark roast and sunlight. Other details trickled in slowly, like the too-small couch and the ache in his lower back. The soft blanket draped over him and the pillow tucked beneath his head. Belt and boots off. Shirt and pants on. Big toe stuck out of the hole in the seam of his sock.

He sat up. Wiped the sleep from his eyes. When he looked around, he spotted her in the kitchen, robe donned and steaming mug in hand.

“You snore,” she voiced.

He grunted. Stretched. Got to his feet.

“Bathroom?” he yawned out.

She gestured toward a slightly ajar door with her mug. After Dave finished and stepped back into the living room, he looked around her home and took in all the minuscule details he’d only briefly glossed over the night before. Like the shearling rug beneath his feet, the candles on the coffee table, and the small television in the corner. Books. Magazines. A coat-and-shoe-rack combo with seasonal attire and several pairs of well-worn shoes. A fish tank without any fish. Gauzy curtains, creaky hardwood floors, and an antique mechanical calculator.

A pair of double doors with frosted windows – that’s what separated her personal and professional lives. A neat-as-a-pin space, with carefully situated office furniture, fake plants, and tall floor lamps. The desk was also tidy – just a laptop, a box of tissues, and a pen holder. There was a small filing cabinet within arm’s reach, a framed degree on the wall, and a sideboard with a Keurig.

A contradiction of spaces – one he took in the source and reason of when his eyes finally stopped ping-ponging and returned to her. Adorned in a clownfish orange robe and holding an obscenely large cup with the phrase Save the Whales on it. A bruise on her shin and toenails painted a deep berry color. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, and when she turned and opened the cabinet nearest her, the hinge squeaked.

“Name’s Dave,” he confessed to her back. 

She stilled for a moment. Then, both mugs were carefully placed on the counter. She didn’t say anything – just turned her head slightly, revealing the slope of her nose, the apple of her cheek, and the barest, upturned corner of her mouth.

A few footsteps – that’s all that existed between him and her, and he shortened the distance until his hands could reach the frayed fabric of her robe. The rounds of her shoulders fit perfectly in his palms, and her hips filled his grip when he squeezed them. The robe had been worn in, made softer by repeated washing and wearing, but it was nothing compared to her skin. A tiny sliver of it was revealed to his eyes and touch because there was a tear the size of his thumb just above the belt around her waist, and it was enough to make him ache.

“What do you want, Dave?”  

"You," he admitted, eyes trained on the flutter of her lashes.

She let out a ragged breath, “Okay.”

Throat tight, he swallowed hard and reached for the tie beneath her belly button. Dave tugged at it until the belt gave way, and the halves of her robe split open like a curtain, revealing to him what he could have only imagined just seconds before. A bare line of flesh, from collar bone to pubic bone. The curve of her breasts. The soft swell of her belly. Another tug and the robe became a forgotten heap of cotton on the floor at their feet.

He paused. Allowed his thumb to find a home in the space between the vertebrae in her tailbone. The coccyx – a small, curved bone at the base of the spine – was extremely difficult to break, but he’d done it before. He'd made it look like a slip-and-fall accident. He could do it again if he wanted to, but he didn’t want to.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered as he guided his hands up her sides. He cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. “I won’t hurt you.”

"I know," she replied, tone strong and certain, bowing into his touch. "I know you won't, Dave."

He closed his eyes, pressed his nose to the crown of her head, and nudged at her ankle with his foot. He hadn’t said a word, but still, she’d listened beautifully and shifted her stance. That action alone was enough to get him buzzed, to fill his cock, and make his mouth water. When he opened his eyes, the sight of her ass stuck out and her hands braced on the counter made him groan.  

Dave unbuttoned and unzipped. Shoved his jeans and underwear past his hips. He knew he no longer deserved this, but he wanted it. He wanted her. Was starved for her. His body practically vibrated with a need so strong that it felt as if he could be broken all over again by it. His mind was so wild with anticipation, with such an overabundance of eagerness, that he nearly froze. 

“This morning,” she exhaled shakily, voice now tinged with shyness. “I touched – but I couldn’t. I tried. I’ve been trying…”

The immobility that had threatened to overtake him fluttered away and was replaced by something akin to empathy. Teeth dug into his lower lip, Dave carefully reached between her thighs and found the evidence of what she’d barely managed to admit to. Hot. Wet. Swollen with arousal. He slowly spread his fingers around until they were coated in her slick, and she whimpered when he slid two deep inside her warmth.

She pushed back against him eagerly, and Dave may have been rusty and nervous as hell, but he hadn’t forgotten. The addition of another finger and slow, firm strokes to her clit with the pad of his thumb – that's what made her flutter and roll her hips. He pushed her hard toward her orgasm, not because he wanted to rush, or because he wanted his turn, but because he could sense just how badly she needed it. She needed it desperately – almost as desperately as he did. 

“How long?” Dave demanded gruffly. “How long have you been like this?”

She held the countertop in a white-knuckled grip, “Since the restaurant.”

It happened fast for her, just as he'd hoped. Her thighs twitched, and then, her knees wobbled. Pressed up against her as he was, Dave felt the way it trembled through her, the way her chest vibrated as she vocalized sounds of relief. He saw her through it, let his touch absorb the delicious aftershocks, and when he slowly slid his fingers out from between her legs, she whined in protest. 

“Still want it?” he asked against the shell of her ear.  

“I want it, Dave,” she exhaled with a nod. “I want you.”

Fingertips dug into the meat of her hips, Dave guided himself into her, right down to the base. He clocked her gasp. The way she strained on tiptoe. How her plush ass flexed against his groin. She adjusted, surrendered, and squeezed down hard around him like she’d be content to hold him within her, just like he was, for however long he desired.

Jaw clenched, eyes fixed on where they were joined, Dave eased back and pushed forward again. He watched, transfixed, as he disappeared inside of her. She was drenched, and his cock glistened with every retreat and thrust.

Paces matched, rhythm found, gratification coaxed until it burned painfully hot and bright. Hips sharply angled. Fast and deep. She whisper-chanted his name as he strummed her clit, and the scent of her shampoo, the soft backs of her thighs, her hands splayed wide across the countertop – so erotic, so beautiful…

“Feels good,” she murmured, words soft and blissed out. She pushed back down on him and stuttered out a breathless curse. “You feel so fucking good, Dave.”

Head drooped, the line from the nape of her neck to the slope of her shoulder was fully exposed. Compelled, without consideration or reason, suddenly greedy and inexplicably possessive, Dave sank his teeth into her flesh. An untamed sound escaped her throat, one that instantly became imprinted on his brain, and when she gushed around his cock, his head spun.   

He stroked her already oversensitive bundle of nerves until she jolted and whimpered and knocked what would’ve been his mug of coffee into the sink. Dave could feel the way her body warred, how eager she was to both drown in and escape from the onslaught. Her head lolled back against his shoulder, and with her face upturned and her eyes on him, he felt truly seen. 

And completely safe.    

“You want it inside,” Dave stated, words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Don’t you?”

She croaked out an unashamed, “Yes, I want it inside,” and that spurred him into doing perhaps two unwise, but wholly necessary things. Dave came inside her – rocked his hips and ground himself deep as his release rushed through him. Then, he kissed her – used his tongue to pry her mouth wide open and plunder. And she reciprocated, all muffled mewls as she held him within her, thighs pressed tight, and walls furiously clamped.

He grazed his teeth over the shell of her ear. Ghosted his mouth along the hinge of her jaw. Felt a pang of displeasure when he eventually slipped from her – an emotion that was almost immediately replaced by something dark and ferocious as he watched his come trickle down her inner thighs.

She turned slowly toward him and smiled, “Wanna go get tacos?”

Dave’s stomach growled and served as an answer. When she smiled, he decided she was more than worth the trouble.

And he wasn’t going anywhere.

[marril96]

Set in 12.13. Emily and Rossi come bearing bad news about Spencer.

[ladamedusoif]

Masterlist

Header - and slogan - by @agentjackdaniels

Hi there! I’m Rose (she/her/they), I’m 40 and I write fics - described with complete accuracy as “ethical porn for nerdy types” - for Pedro Pascal characters.

This is an 18+ blog so, for safety’s sake, minors should not access the content below.

I love hearing from readers! All comments, reblogs, likes, DMs, and asks are very much appreciated.

If you’d like to be notified about new fics and instalments, please follow my writing blog @ladameecrit - taglists aren’t working well at the moment so this is the easiest way to keep up.

I also cross-publish to AO3 if that's your preferred reading platform.

I do block empty/untitled/ageless blogs so, if that’s you and you’re a real person, just drop me a message - or, better still, populate your blog (you don’t need to be totally specific about your age) with a few things. If you’re not sure how, just ask! I’m happy to help and I’m sure others will be too!

Thank you so much for reading!

Visiting (Professor!Ben College AU - in progress)

Pairing: Professor!Ben x OFC Lydia (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, European art historian Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in the small New England college town of Barrow. She’s planning to spend a year there on leave of absence from her permanent job at home, expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor at Barrow College, a small liberal arts institution. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic Literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the main Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Tempered in the Fire (Blacksmith!Din Djarin AU short series - in progress)

Pairing: Blacksmith!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: Ireland, almost a decade after the rebellion of 1798. You are an unusual woman: married, but alone; a widow, with no certainty her husband is dead. When your local blacksmith is badly injured in an accident and unable to work, you have no choice but to travel to the next forge, run by a man of few words whose uncertain origins and dark complexion make him stand out among the locals. You are immediately intrigued by this mysterious, taciturn figure - and the striking little boy he’s taken as his apprentice.

Rating: Mature (series); Explicit (18+, later chapters)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and content notes.

Gentleman Thief - The Heritage Crimes Universe (The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) - in progress)

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x F!Museum Professional Reader

Summary: He stole a priceless ruby after your first date. You reunited after the museum's winter ball. And now? Something keeps pulling you into the orbit of the world's greatest (ethical) gentleman thief.

Rating: Explicit (18+)

See the Series Masterlist for specific warnings and notes.

A Merry Fic-Mas - a Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar

31 days. 31 stories (hopefully). 12 Pedro characters.

Inspired by this set of December/holiday themed prompts.

Rating: Teen/Mature/Explicit (see individual chapters for warnings and content notes).

20/20 - no outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Pairing: No Outbreak!Joel Miller x Optometrist F!Reader

Summary: After months of pestering from Sarah, Joel finally concedes that he might to get his eyesight checked and makes an appointment at your optometrist practice. He really doesn’t want glasses, though.

Rating: 18+; not explicit as such but implied; see the warnings on the original story

Laurels - General Acacius x f!Reader

Pairing(s): Acacius x F!Sex Worker Reader; Acacius x Lucilla

Summary: You met him as a young soldier, brought to the brothel you worked at to celebrate a victory. Now, almost two decades later, his return to Rome in triumph sparks memories of your time together - and the secrets you still hold.

Rating: 18+ MDNI; Explicit; See warnings on the original story.

Grey - Joel Miller x f! Reader

Pairing: Joel x f!Reader

Summary: A hand-knit scarf is all that you have left of him.

Rating: Teen; see warnings on the original story. Part of the Starry Nights and Fuzzy Socks universe.

Café Crème - Javier Peña x f!reader

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Javier likes mornings at your place for more than just coffee.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original post)

A Cup of Kindness, Yet - Javier Peña x f!Reader

Part of the brilliant @pickled-pena writing challenge - check out the blog for the whole masterlist.

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: Another Auld Lang Syne in Laredo, twenty years after your first with Javi.

Rating: Teen (see notes and warnings on the original)

My Kiss, Only For You - The Thief x Museum Guide f!reader

Pairing: The Thief (Casillero del Diablo) x Museum Guide F!Reader

Summary: You’ve noticed a regular attendee on the guided tours you offer as part of your job at the museum - and one day, he decides to ask you for more information on his favourite exhibit.

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI; see more notes on the original)

For the Night - Special Agent Ortega x F!Sex Worker Reader

Pairing: Agent Ortega (The Sixth Gun) x F!Sex Worker Reader

Summary: You might not be one of the “sweet young things” in the whorehouse any more, but a seemingly reluctant special agent helps remind you of your worth.

Rating: Explicit, 18+ (see specific warnings on the post).

Silvered - Detective Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Word count: ~ 800 words

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI; see specific warnings on the story)

Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.

Gentleman Cowboy - Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x F!Reader

Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels/Agent Whiskey x F!Reader

Word count: 3500 words

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI; see specific warnings on the story

Summary: A solo getaway, a whiskey for one, and a very charming cowboy in the big city.

Able - Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Pairing: Joel Miller x Disabled F!Reader

Summary: "I just don't think she'll be able for patrol". But then it's just you, Joel, and your trusty walking stick in the middle of nowhere...

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI; reader is disabled; see more specific warnings on the story.

Word Count: ~3.7k

Room Service - Dave York x F! Reader

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Summary: You’re at one of those generic conference hotels to meet a man you know only as Dave.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; more specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~2.3k

Coup de Foudre - Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Pairing: Lucien Flores x F!Reader

Summary: Caught in a sudden storm on a break in Paris, you and Lucien race back to the hotel room.

Rating: Explicit 18+ MDNI; specific warnings on the story

Word Count: ~1.1k

Part of the April Showers Challenge organised by @undercoverpena

[nerdieforpedro]

One Failed Search - Security Log Drabbles

Part of the Secret Springs Creative Shenanigans

Frankie Morales x Chloé Thomas (plus size AFAB OFC)

My entire masterlist and blog are for readers 18+ MDNI. I do not consent to my work being used in AI, recommended on TikTok, borrowed or plagiarized.

Summary: Lieutenant Chloé Thomas is trying to investigate Frankie Morales - the Harvey Air pilot that she can barely find information on. It does not go well, or perhaps it did?

Warnings: Jokes and puns, fluff, food reference, very bad nicknames, an angry and flexible York, implied smut? (That came early), double M’s, our pilot being a menace, lots of ass and sass, a sprinkle of Spanish, anxiety, crime listings

Word Count: over 2.3k (Drabble? I mean, it’s what I told myself originally.)

Notes: I decided to make it a personal log because that made me giggle the most, I apologize in advance @secretelephanttattoo but you do have two M’s so we’ll call it even. Possible guest mentions (they didn’t ask and neither did I but I thought of them and then stuck cute things in the graphic so here we are) of @goodwithcheese @maggiemayhemnj and @tinytinymenace

You’ll find yourselves. 😎 ❤️❤️❤️

Thanks to @megamindsecretlair and @soft-persephone for listening to me babble about it. @angelofsmalldeath-codeine & @fhatbhabiee for the Spanish. I may use what I asked later.

Main Masterlist/ Frankie Morales Masterlist

My name Chloé Thomas - head of Top Flight Security for the Secret Springs resort. I would write this out but the thought of annoying York with the sound of my voice delights me greatly. I’m starting my little bit of fun now. That's funny because my code name used to be siren because…wait.

Anyway, I’ve just finished messaging York again about final preparations for security of the Secret Springs resort. He is still refusing the red short-shorts, I told him that the guys work out to stay fit, why can’t they show it off a little? We might even want to think about a calendar at some point, this was a joke, but Dave got mad. I told him he could put a pair to sport around for his Lady Gouda Cheese and he promptly messaged me back in all caps, “DO NOT MENTION HER AT ALL. I WILL NOT HAVE YOU GIVING HER IDEAS!!!” He used all sorts of angry emojis but I know that he’d do it for her. He also said not to call her that nickname but it’s a fancy cheese. I think. She also has a thing about ties and leather jackets. I never gave her ideas. He blames me, but she tells me what she has him do. I didn’t know York was that flexible. Good for him I say, also it explains why he doesn’t want anyone touching his neck.

Everyone has their kinks. Mine seems to be voices and hands. A strange combination. I also found another one - broad men.

Correction - this is about one such man. The pilot of this charter plane for Harvey Air. I swear it was only because I couldn’t find any information on him other than his name, his date of birth, nationality and current address. It sounds like plenty but I’m usually able to see past work history, convictions or court cases, financials and such. He has none. It’s all blacked out. Dave said he vetted him but it’s still strange. The mayor’s Pooka Shells (her main squeeze Marcus Pike) and Silver Rim (her second squeeze Marcus Moreno - they’re still workshopping his code name. She said she would let me know the final one. Gotta tell the difference between those Marcus’s) both vouch for this man.

It makes me more curious, which is why I spoke very kindly to the flight attendant and she let me slide by into the cockpit. I think she was too busy trying to flirt with a man who had been wearing a flannel shirt but took it off and now he’s in a white t-shirt. We haven’t taken off yet and the pilot isn’t here so I poke around, maybe there’s a clue.

I’m caught red handed, bent over laying on my stomach over the seat because I’m too damn short, trying to reach a small duffle bag next to the pilot’s chair. “Can I help you Miss? And careful standing up, you might give me more of a show than you already are.”

I freeze, embarrassed that I’m not only caught but might have my ass out. Mayor El said, ‘Wear a dress, you’ll look pretty in pink.’ I mean, yes I do and I love how I look in fuchsia but I don’t want to show the man my cheeky undies, no matter how much I like that they’re peach and match my bralette. I lean back and put a hand carefully on the control panel? I forgot to ask him what it’s actually called. I don’t stand up yet because I feel a little too much air on the back of my thighs and it feels like he could already see my drawers or will be soon.

“I’m going to reach under your arms and lift you up. That alright Miss?” The pilot asks and I agree. I’m horrified, how he’s going to be touching me and feeling my arms. He might not even be able to and then we’re both going to be on the floor in this cramped space and might delay the flight. God I’m going to hear about this from the Mayor, York and everyone. His tone thus far has been one of concern, I’m not sure why, I was trying to go through his stuff. To be honest, I kinda just want to lie here and not face him, I’ve never had a good poker face and I’ll likely have my mouth open from his resonant voice. My body is a different type of tense now.

Surprisingly, I’m up on my feet while I’m still working out how I’m going to get off the floor when we both fall. We did not. His hands are sitting underneath my arms for a few moments before he retracts them. I turn to face him and it’s horrible. Just the worst possible outcome.

One of his large hands is on his chin. He’s wearing a hat that says, ‘Standard Heating Oil’ and it’s covering onyx curls that frame his face and circle the back of his neck. Stroking the scruff on his cheeks, he asked me a question and I could only respond, “Run that by me again please.” His eyes are the color of my favorite flavor - chocolate. Damn it all to hell. His scant file did not have a photo, he is a beautiful man who has a slight scowl on his face.

He sighs and repeats, “I said I’m the pilot and is there a reason you’re in my seat trying to get my bag?” Very good question. Important question. At this point, I should have gave it a moment and then responded but I did not. Because, well I am me.

“I didn’t know pilots came that broad or strong. What do they feed you? Sure it isn’t some deluxe hearting oil?” There have been many moments in life where I have wanted to hide under a blanket or lock myself in a room. This is a whole new level and I need to be in a padded room. The only blessing is that instead of kicking me out of the cockpit, he laughs. I’m not embarrassed, I’m way past that. Who needs shame when his entire face has brightened? Good thing my emotions tend to change quickly.

The booming sound of his laugh coupled with him throwing his head back and holding his chest, enables me to have a small grin. I’ve made him laugh, I might be able to distract him a bit more. Slowly, I move toward the door and at his side. Frankie steps past me and picks up his bag. It has his wallet, a guide book to the Secret Springs, cell phone and a water bottle. “Am I cleared Lieutenant?” His question makes my eyebrows raise, he has a shit-eating grin. “I know you’re in charge of security. Both Marcus’s told me.” Pooka Shells and Chrome Rim or Silver Dollar - whatever the Mayor actually calls him, I’ll shake the both of them when I get there.

“I see. So they told you my title, did they tell you my name Francisco?” I cross my arms and lean my weight back on my right leg. A stance I use when I’m trying to seem pissed, really I’m hiding my shock. Apparently, I truly am easy to read and he puts the bag down and his hands up. Messing me, I might be a bit pissed now.

“Surprisingly, they did not. Said you’d get mad if they mentioned it. They weren’t supposed to know your name is but it was…teased out of the Mayor. Not sure which one did it.” My hands are over my face. Dammit Mayor….bad enough they know and they can get information out of you. It should be fine, maybe. That’s something I’ll need to follow up on.

“Just, not everyone needs to know. We’re going to have plain clothes guards to ensure safety at the resort. I’ll go back to my seat now. Sorry for trying to look through your things. I don’t like unknowns. Your file was scant and even though the double M’s, York and the Mayor said things were fine-“

“You trust but verify. Understandable. More people should. Well lieutenant,” Morales crosses his arms and takes a step toward me. “You’re welcome to sit in here with me. I can fly this bird without your help, but you seem interesting company teniente (Lieutenant).” His sizable palm pats the backrest of the co-pilot’s seat and snort. Why did I snort?! I avoid that even when I laugh really hard. Dangerous, but I sat down anyway. I was invited after all.

The flight over is smooth as butter, with the exception of a spot of turbulence and landing the plane, I didn’t notice the time go by accept it was too short. And that Frankie mutters while on the ascent and descent and it nearly has me arching my back in my seat. Thankfully I did have a silver of composure and fiddled with my headphones. All the guests are off the plane so I exit with Frankie and the flight attendant who is despondent that Surly Flannel (I didn’t call him this to his face. His resting face is a disapproving glare) has not agreed to see her after disembarking. Instead, he meets a woman who’s holding a boom box and they laugh about a flower. I didn’t get to hear what kind.

The Mayor competes her speech with one Marcus on each side, everyone is excited and there don’t seem to be any reports of thief, violence or the like so far. People are just having fun. It’s nice and peaceful. Where do I go now? I’m in this pretty dress with no where to go for the afternoon.

I mill around the security HQ and decide to explore in the evening when it’s cooled off a bit.

But of course the pilot finds me. “You still on duty lieutenant?” He’d been wearing a simple red shirt and cargo pants with fifty pockets on them earlier. Now he was on a white tank almost silk looking shirt with pink shorts that hit just above his knee. If they were a little higher, I’d be able to see a bit more thigh…

“Always on duty. Are you enjoying yourself so far Francisco?” I ask mainly to distract myself and focus on his face instead of looking down at his shorts. I was transparent about it so I’m sure he noticed. I need to be away from him, I’m just going to keep raking over his body with my eyes and it’s not right. But also…it’s not fair that he looks and smells amazing.

“Yup. Scrounging up people for the bar and the games.” The bar part fits, picturing him pouring drinks and shaking that silver mix cup thing with his arms flexing, biceps curling that devilish grin on his face. I meant to exhale but didn’t open my mouth and just hummed. I can normally present like a sane person, he makes my brain short circuit.

This is the first time I’ve seen Frankie react besides laughing. Humming is pretty weird and I’ve only met him today. “Why games at the bar? The drunk people should be enough to handle.” It sounds like a horrible combination and ripe for problems. I don’t need to go to this bar or any bar with him.

He shifts his weight and tilts his head. Then holds his hand out, “Come see teniente (lieutenant). Judge for yourself.” I shouldn’t have taken this hand, more like I couldn’t help it. I’m weak against that grin of his. Morales has charmed many a person with curling lips like that.

Now Frankie is pouring the drinks and I’m on the outskirts of a twister game that is all giggles and ass. There’s a darts game going on in the corner, a lady keeps trying to start karaoke but three of the other local shop owners keep unplugging her microphone. There one man with a scar on over his eye, shirtless and has a woman and her dog who has an adorable rainbow collar on and curls almost as fluffy as Frankie’s sitting in his lap as he drinks out of a chalice.

Where did he get a chalice? Should there be darts over there? Who brought a karaoke machine in here? Why do the twister people have no pants? Like all have nice asses but everything is overwhelming and the two blueberry mint juleps I’ve had are not helping.

Squeezing through a row of cheeks I’m not sure how I ended up in the middle of, I am back at the bar and Frankie has his hand resting in the palm of his hand. “Teniente (Lieutenant), you ever relax? You seem on edge. Have some fun and maybe another drink.” I ordered a mojito this time, change it up a bit. The bar stool I had to hop up on so my feet are hanging. Seeing the bartending pilot at eye level has me clear my throat and swallowing my own spit. My mouth is watering. I need to grip something and there’s only the bar counter. My hands flat against the surface keeps me from floating away.

“Like I said, I’m still on duty. Water please after this drink.” He pours me some on ice to have after my mojito. I remember drinking it. There was some sort of music and he was holding my hand or was holding his. Then my hand was on his chest. I think we were dancing and he switched out with someone so he could come from behind the bar.

I awoke in a room that wasn’t mine and was able to make it back in time for the morning security briefing with the double M’s, York and the Mayor. It did not help that I was wearing the same dress from yesterday. There were lingering looks, but no one asked.

Thankfully, York has agreed to wipe the video if I never mention red shorts again. It’s a great loss, but I concede. Hanging over a concrete barrier is never a good look, thankfully Frankie helped me down, but what was I trying to do? Was it that bad that I blocked it out?

Ending day one log:

Violence - None

Public intoxication - Three (sadly I was one of them)

Public Nudity - Five (not as many as I expected)

Destruction of Property - One (I don’t remember that either)

Injuries: Minor = six, Major = none

Chloé’s well-being: took majors blows but might recover TBD

Security Log Two

[exquisiteserotonin]

Precious Possessions 9: Not Your Red-Lipped Doll

Pairing: Dave York X F! Reader (Original Female Character)

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Word count: 2906

Summary: Firefly has some time to contemplate about her feelings about seeing Dave with Carol and Alice, bringing closer to understanding more about who she is and who she always has been. Where will this leave her and Dave?

Warning: TRIGGER WARNINGS for this one---this has some real dubious consent. I do not want this to upset anyone, so please, please, keep that in mind. If you haven't been able to tell by now, the characters are not well adjusted and have gone through some shit, so this shouldn't be a model for a relationship. Infidelity, almost stalking like behavior, spit as lube (probably not sanitary), PiV sex - wrap it up lovahs, creampie, degrading behavior, and ANGST. Once again please DNI if you are not 18 and over. Also not beta'd, so all errors are my own. Please be kind.

A/N: I'm so grateful for everyone who is loving and following this series. I hope that you continue to stick with me and comment and reblog.

Gratitude to every single one of the mazing ladies with whom I share this whore home, I adore you with my whole heart. Thank you for work shopping this with me. Love you.

@legendary-pink-dot @youandmeand5bucks @magpiepillsjunior @imalrightllama @arcanefox207 @sparklefarts38 @redhotkitchen @pink-whiskey-woman @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept @for-a-longlongtime

Taglist: @sheepdogchick3 @nerdieforpedro @casa-boiardi @missladym1981 @untamedheart81

If I missed anyone let me know I forget constantly if I don't write it down. I probably need a system.

You knew he’d be angry. It was understandable. One day passed and you didn’t dare hope for or expect a call. The second day you wondered if he would make the attempt, but you weren’t surprised when nothing came. The overthinking came next. Was the line you had crossed so wide that you could no longer cross it together? Maybe if you agreed to everything he asked, never talked about it anymore, he’d come back? Or maybe you were just overthinking it and you just needed to let it go. 

Diving headfirst into work was the only way for you to cope. With focused intent, you typed away on your keyboard, opened various programs, analyzing, and interpreting different data sets sent to you. A distraction free intensity took over your head as you checked off item after item on your to do list. The eyes that peered at you as they passed your cubicle barely phased you as they watched in a combination of admiration and apprehension at your productivity. 

The tips of your fingers numbed from the consistent typing and clicking of your computer mouse. You pushed out a hot, puff of frustrated air from your lips and your eyes narrowed in scrutiny at the screen. The click, click, click of your nails against your desk echoed in your ears until your focus was interrupted by the loud sound of your desk phone.  

“Hello?” you answered, a hint of surprise at the edge of your voice. 

The polite, gentle register of the receptionist’s voice traveled from the phone to your ear.  

“You have someone here to see you.” 

A tightness grabbed hold of your chest, pulling a gasp from you. 

It couldn’t be…he wouldn’t. 

Your mind wanted to hold hope for your delusion, while every vein pumped with the truth that it wasn’t Dave. Each beat of your heart knew, but neither your head nor could be prepared for who came to you next. 

“Who is it?” you sighed. 

“Um…it’s Mr. Heatherington, it’s---,” she replied, hesitation hiding in her voice. 

“Brad’s father?” 

A feeling of nervous confusion coursed through you as you wondered why he would be coming to see you. You reminded yourself that turning him away and moving on completely would raise nothing but suspicion. Seeking comfort from someone with a shared trauma was normal, expected even. 

“Yeah, he wants to see if you’re free for lunch.” 

The information forced you to suck in a cold breath of air. 

“Yes, yes,” you nodded over the phone even though you knew she couldn’t see it. “Of course, yes, I’ll be right down.”

The quiet image of him waiting in the front lobby had you trembling. The slope of his shoulders was nearly identical to his son’s. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his pressed khaki pants. His waist was slim and widened a few inches at the hips. His head bowed down in a quiet trance as he waited for you. His golden hair was styled with more gel than was necessary, just like his son's, just like Brad’s. When he turned to look at you, it sent a flood of memories to your head, nearly making you stumble as your stomach churned with nausea. The slope of shoulders. The boxy waist. One wrong turn of your head and Brad was standing before you.

“Mr. Heatherington, hi,” you greeted, taking an apprehensive step forward. 

His arms were outstretched towards you, gesturing you to him for an embrace. 

Do it or he’ll be suspicious, your mind told you as it pressed you forward. 

“Oh, come on, no need for such formalities,” he said, beckoning you with a wave of his hands. “Martin, or Marty is fine, sweetheart.” 

A lump of disgust lodged itself in the back of your throat as you mustered up the gall to present him with something mildly resembling a hug. He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing them up and down your back. It had you shaking, bringing you back to staring at his son’s body in the dark and Dave standing ominously over you as tears stung the corners of your eyes. 

“It’s good to see you, Martin,” you lied as you peeled yourself away from him. 

He walked next to you without a word, the silent void between you louder than the noise of the crowd around you. Walking next to him, you knew you should feel guilty about the part. Pity? He didn’t deserve it. Fear? You could take him down in a beat. Disgust? That was a no brainer. It was easy enough to get lost on this train of thought. So lost that you hadn’t even realized that you had arrived at a nearby deli. 

The lunch crowd was barely a trickle when you walked in. Your path to the counter was clear and quick as was your order of pastrami on rye. After Martin ordered his sandwich, he gestured towards a booth to the left of the counter. He sat across from you and set his elbows on the table before clasping his hands together. 

“So how are you doing, kid?” His voice came out in the sigh like he was a battered soldier checking on another soldier in his battalion. 

Caring and sympathy. They weren’t on your bingo cards for today. Fate apparently liked to fuck around with you. Brazenly, you decided to meet her where she was. 

“I’m---I’m,” you hesitated with your confession, “I’ve been better.” 

He reached for your hand, noticing you flinch as he took it. The blonde of his brows wrinkled at their center as he looked at you, pathetically assuming you were feeling the same thing he was feeling. Feeling them about the same person he was. As tears began to water his eyes, you squeezed his hand remembering what was throwing your existence into an imbalance. Not his son. Not his absence, but Dave’s. 

“I understand,” Brad’s father took a deep inhale through his nose. 

One that puffed up his chest. You swore that you could feel the hot air that came from his lips as he exhaled. 

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad,” his father murmured as he looked out the window. “My boy…he had so many plans! He was ready to treat you like a princess.” 

The corners of your lips tightened at the words. How was it possible that everything you didn’t want in a relationship was just captured in one sentence? It lingered as he squeezed your hands in his. 

“My headspace hasn’t been the same, Martin,” the quivering confession that left your lips was followed by a flood of emotions. 

The anxious bounce of your knees reverberated through your entire body as you struggled to hold your emotions in. The feelings nearly gave way to tears as he held you hostage with his gaze. 

“I’ve watched you,” the words sounded almost like a threat, taunting your fight-or-flight response into high gear. “I see you now and you haven’t even let yourself grieve.”

A breath rushed through you from the depths of your lungs. A cool droplet began to seep from the corner of your eyes, softly caressing the curve of your face. The look of sadness and pity that wafted from his repugnant face left your entire body shaking with a wellspring of bubbling anger and frustration.

“How do you do it?” you questioned through tear-blurred vision. “How are you doing it?”

You watched closely as Martin crossed his hands over his chest and pushed his back into the back of the chair. His face hardened and the lines around his mouth drew deeper into his face as his lips turned downward to form a frown. Observation. Data analysis. Reading between the lines. You couldn’t separate yourself from these skills and like any good analyst you studied him as he looked out the window. 

“I try to continue in his memory,” he replied, snuffing in a sharp breath. “To live every aspect of my life as boldly and unapologetically because he can’t.”

Live life boldly and unapologetically?

A light laugh burst from your belly as you shook your head in disbelief. You never thought you’d agree with something Brad’s father suggested. But then again, even dying lights show flickers of brightness before burning out. 

“I think he would have expected nothing less from the both of us,” he said, letting out another sigh. “He could have given you the world.”

“Sometimes the world is not enough,” an invisible knot threatened to lodge itself in your throat as you let the words leave you. 

“Still a pretty good consolation prize.”

A weak smile. That was all the reaction you could give to him. Both of you recognized 

the moment as a natural stopping point. He gave you another hug, kissing both of your cheeks.

The deliberately slow way he moved to offer you this affection sent a chill up and down your shoulders and made every hair on your body stand on end. Even as he walked away, the underlying urge to get away from him stayed just beneath your skin. 

***

The weight of your productivity sat heavily on your shoulders with each slow step you took towards your front door. You ascended the three steps to your arched door pushing the key in only to find it unlocked. With a quick turn of your keychain, you held it at the ready, your thumb and pointer finger pulling at and rubbing against a taught deceptively thin black cord hidden inside. It was a cord that, when pulled hard enough, could strangle the burliest man. 

A light tap of your foot to the door was enough to push it open. A blue-gray light filled the room with early evening shadows. Each step you took forward was firm and unwavering. Any intruder's underestimation of you would be their downfall. In the shadows of the armchair that rested in your living room a figure sat, his legs spread out wide to the edges of your chair. There was no mistaking the large hands that rubbed against the wrinkles of his slacks. 

“You’re home late.” 

“Dave?” 

The very presence of him, the gravel in his voice, the heat that emanated from his body reached out to you, stealing your breath. You set your keys at a table near your front door. With your hands at your hips, you moved towards the kitchen, moving past the chair where he sat. Too much trouble to give him even a passing glance. He jolted towards you, holding you back at your waist.  

“No phone call to let me know you’d be late,” he seethed. “No dinner on the table. Not even a drink waiting for me.” 

“Seriously, Dave?” you groaned and rolled your eyes as you tried to push past him again. 

“Stop playing, this is what you want, isn’t it?” He taunted you. “A domestic dream. A man coming home to you every night? A sensible fuck?”

“Dave, come on,” you asserted, full of enough bullshit for the day. “I just got home.” 

He pulled you close, digging his fingers into your hips and pressing his hard cock into your pelvis. 

“Take off your clothes.”

“Just give me a minute to---,”

“I said ‘take off your clothes’.” 

He rocked into you again, his eyes demanding your clothes to come off. It had been so long since you last had him, and you swore you felt your desperation for him coming out of you like waves of radiation. But he needed to know there were times when he was wrong. This time you moved past him to your bedroom. 

With a brisk walk he followed you, grabbing you by the crook of your elbow. His hands gripped your arms, spinning you around to face him. His hands maneuvered down to your waist slowly unbuttoning each button of your blush-colored blouse.

“Come on, baby,” he tempted with greedy lips as he pulled your shirt from the high waist of your skirt. “I’ve had such a hard day at work, and I need to fuck; it won’t take long, I promise.” 

He shoved you to the bed. The loud clinking of his belt buckle reached you as his hands pulled the leather from the belt loops of his trousers. He discarded his clothes into a haphazard pile on the floor before simultaneously pulling your skirt and underwear from your body. 

“Dave why are you---,” you moaned out breathlessly as he held your hands over your head. 

The use of words was temporarily obsolete as Dave forcefully pushed your legs apart. A dart of spit left his lips settling onto your pussy. As he pressed and strummed his fingers on your folds where he left his mark. It had you squirming and arching your back against his touch. There was no denying how much your body blazed and ached for him. The mattress shifted with each slow press of the mattress he gave with his hands and knees. Soon he was lined up at your entrance and with a push of his knee on your thigh he rocked his pulsing cock deep into your folds. 

He braced his arms at your sides and held his face close to yours with each deep roll of his pelvis into yours. Too many long days had passed since you last had him, and you could do nothing but let go and feel the thickness of him as he moved in and out. Each ridge and vein slid against tight folds with each push and gyration he made within you. The walls of your dark room trapped every slap of skin, every heavy breath, and every whimper that both of you set free. 

Each thrust into you became more erratic, urgent, deeper, and harder. Absent were the spanking, the dirty words, the hair pulling, and every other depraved thing you did in worship of each other’s body. With his face held so close to yours, you felt each breath he took quicken on your skin. You swore you could feel him straining against the desire to bite you or call you his whore.

In the quiet pleasure a conflict rose within you, feeling close in ways that words couldn’t express, but deprived of the darkness you loved to share with one another. His hands twisted the sheets and as you dug into the flesh of his back, he filled you. With one push off you, he sat at the edge of your bed for a few moments before standing up and making his way to your bathroom to clean himself. Barely even able to catch your breath, he returned pulling up his boxer briefs and pulling his undershirt over his head. 

“To clean yourself up,” he said as he tossed a washcloth on the bed next to you.

You pushed past him to clean yourself in your bathroom. When you returned, you found him already buttoning up the last few buttons of his dress shirt. A feeling of frustration lodged itself in your throat as he stood before you. His eyes looked you up and down with smug satisfaction.

“My pretty, pretty possession.” The next words he uttered came out gentler than you expected, further fueling the confusion in your brain, “you need to remember who you are.” 

“Do you?” you asked, stepping forward holding your face close to his.

In the silence that followed you swore you could feel his body flinch at your words. It gave you a wicked sense of pride that you had been able to have the last word in that moment, though you knew it left nothing but confusion for the both of you. He rushed past you, leaving with a hushed and calculated shut of your door. One, two, three counts and you knew he wasn’t coming back, not tonight anyway. From a hanger of your large walk-in closet, you pulled a robe and wrapped it tightly around your body before returning to bed. As you lay down, you pulled a pillow close, smelling it and shutting your eyes tightly as tears slipped from them to stain the bedsheets.

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

Days later in a quiet parking space near your house, Dave paused, his hands roaming the steering wheel as he sat in his car. As he got out, his pace was quick, a hint of excitement brewed beneath as he made his way to your front door. He pressed his finger to the sleek white doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to answer. Silence. He knocked this time. No answer. With fast breaths he pulled out his phone to text you, then call you. Each action was carried out to no avail. So, like any sensible man would, he forcibly entered your home. You knew he would do it. 

Immaculate cleanliness, darkness, and silence met him. He made his way through the cold emptiness, suppressing any panic or anger he was building within. He dashed to your bedroom and flipped on the lights. Your bed was perfectly made, your clothes still hung neatly in the closet with a few shoes standing slightly askew. A little pink envelope rested at the center of the bed; his name written in your perfect cursive. 

It smelled like you. 

He opened a piece of folded stationery within to see only one sentence written. 

Remembering who I am.

[artemiseamoon]

Teaser: Meet the Yorks

Dave & Carol York x ofc*

Read on A03

Black, Brown, & Beautiful June

*ofc is a single mom and 40

Happy Pride and Bi visibility! 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

“Carol, you don’t have to,” she started as Carol returned with glasses. “Wait, your hair, it looks great.”

“Thank you, date night,” she whispered with a smirk. “Finally. Last week the girls were sick. The week before that I was too busy, and the one before that he had to work late. My sister’s going to watch the girls.”

“Oh, good, date night is important.”

“Keeps the marriage alive,” Carol slipped into the stool beside Makaya, “and about the set, seriously, it's a gift. It’s just sitting in my cabinet collecting dust, I rather give it to you-”

“It’s true, she never uses it,” Dave said as he leaned against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. “You should take it, it's yours.”

“Well, if you both insist.”

[elocinnicole]

Hey! I love your writing so much can you do a Snowpiercer fic? 👀👀👀 Andre and Reader used to be a couple instead of him and Zarah

1,001 Cars 

Rating: M 18+ Minors DNI

Paring: Andre Layton x OFC Black!Reader (Paige Knight)

Summary: Paige and Andre see each other for the first time in years.

1,001 cars wasn’t long enough. It’s been four years since Paige has seen Andre. She didn’t even want to be on this God forsaken train but Andre insisted and back then she did any and everything for him. Well, now it was her turn to be selfish and fuck anyone who had a problem with it. 

She was probably the most hated person in the Tail behind Wilford, but she did what she had to do. A decent job in Third Class was enough for the two of them, it was far from the glamours lifestyle in First or even Second Class, but her small restaurant was better than fighting for small scrapes in the Tail that wasn’t what she imagined for them. 

Paige remembers the day clearly when they heard there was an opening in Third Class cooking. This was it. Their chance out of the Tail. Or at least she thought, when she told Andre of the news she hoped he would be excited to get ahead even if it’s just a little bit. Andre immediately shut her down, told her it was betraying the Tail and everything they stood for to leave it all behind.

“You really want me to turn my back on everyone back here. Just for some funky ass job in Third? Come the fuck on Paige.” Andre whispered loudly, so as not to wake the other Tailies trying to get their rest.

“We’re not turning our back, we—talked about starting a family before all this train shit. I don’t want to have a child in the Tail. I don’t want them growing up like this. What’s wrong with giving a child a better life?”

Andre sighed heavily, “We’re not leaving, not when we’re so close to this rebellion.” Now it was Paige’s turn to sigh

“Come on Andre, you’d rather risk your life for a rebellion than to better ourselves. First, it’s Third Class and then maybe I can finally get a teaching job in Second Class, and you can convince them to give you a job, you used to be a detective.” Paige pleaded, desperately wanting Andre to see her point of view. “Hot food, a shower, God knows how long it’s been since we’ve had good food.”

“You’d give up everything we’ve stood for, for food?” Andre asked, disappointed

“Andre, I’m tired. I didn’t even want to get on this fucking train, but you promised me that we’d get good tickets and look at us. Eating God damn rats!”

“Shush!” Someone whispered loudly

“We’re not leaving, end of discussion.”

“That’s it?”

“We’re on the brink of something here Paige, we can change how this train is run. Just believe in it, us, me. Change is coming to the train. I promise.”

Exhausted with the conversation, Paige merely nodded her head. There was nothing else to talk about.

“Do what you need to do, Andre.”

With that Andre kissed Paige before turning over to go to sleep. That would be the last time she would feel Andre’s lips on hers.

Paige can still hear the insults and the feel the judging eyes on her as she made her last walk in the Tail of the train to move to the Third Class. She remembers Andre not even saying goodbye to her or even being within eyesight. Paige held her head high despite the insults thrown at her, not even giving them a second glance, she left with Ruth forever leaving the Tail behind or at least she thought.

What started off as a job in Third Class led her to teaching the children of the Second Class. Paige started tutoring some children when she closed the restaurant in Third and word traveled that Paige would host weekly sessions with the children. Word moved throughout the train, and she was offered a job in the school which she graciously took. Paige missed being in the classroom, she was a second-grade teacher before Snowpiercer and is what she originally applied for when Andre suggested they get tickets for the train.

Life was going well for Paige until tragedy hit Second Class. A coworker of hers was found dead in her cabin and her right arm frozen solid. Paige found her body when she opened the school that day. She instantly knew there was foul play involved and immediately went to the police.

Paige was supposed to be interviewed by the new train detective after the school day. She had been on edge since finding the body, who could’ve done such a thing and why? Is this what Andre was talking about? The sound of knocks rapping against the door sliding open pulled Paige out of her thoughts. She straightened out her clothes and slide the door open, not prepared to the man standing on the other side.

“Paige Knight?”

“Um, yes.”

“I’m Bess Till and this is Detective Andre Layton. We have a few questions to ask about the death of Ciara Young.”

“Please, come in.” Paige couldn’t bear to look Andre in the eyes. The past couple of years haven’t been kind to him, she could see it all on his face.

“So, here’s how this is gonna go. Detective Layton is going to ask you some question and you’re going to answer those questions truthfully.” Paige nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“Great, I’ll be standing outside the door while Detective Layton conducts his interview.”  Till removes the handcuffs off Andre’s wrist, before giving him a stern glance and leaving Paige’s suite.

“So, this is what selling out gets you.” Andre lamented as he rubbed his sore wrists.

“Just ask me your questions so you can get back and tell everyone how much of a traitor I am. I’m sure, Josie will love to hear that.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever you want it to.”

“Let’s just cut to the chase, when was the last time you saw the victim—”

“Ciara, her name was Ciara Lane.” Andre looked up and saw that she was struggling to hold back tears.

“Sorry. When was the last time you saw Ciara alive?”

“Yesterday evening, we were having drinks in my suite and she left around 11:00 at night.”

“Was she intoxicated?”

“No, we only had two glasses of wine. We’re teachers, it takes more than two glasses to get us drunk.”

“Did she mention anyone else when she was leaving. Did she give any indication that she wasn’t going back to her suite.”

“No,” Paige answered quickly which Andre noticed but decided to leave it alone...for now.

“So, when did you find her?”

“Around 7:30 in the morning. We usually walk together, but she wasn’t in her suite. So I assumed she got an early start, that’s not uncommon. I can in her classroom there she was at her desk…strangled and her arm had been frozen and cut off.” Andre frowned.

“I would like to ask more questions but let’s go to your suite. Since that was the last place you saw her.” Andre suggested

Paige frowned, Andre motioned to the corner of the room where a security camera was watching and listening carefully.

“Okay, we’ve canceled school for the week, we need to find a new teacher. Do you need to ask permission or…?”

“I’ll handle it.” At that moment, Till entered the classroom.

“Finished?”

“I would like to visit Ms. Knight’s suite, as it was the last known location of the victim.”

“Very well,” Till roughly handcuffed Andre, Paige growing angry at the way she was treating Andre.

“I think they’re tight enough.” Till gave Paige a sarcastic tight-lipped smile. It was a silent walk from the classroom to Paige’s Second-Class suite.  Upon entering the room, Andre could smell lemongrass. Paige’s favorite scent, he remembered her apartment always smelling like lemongrass.

“I know all about your history with Mr. Layton here. So don’t try any funny business.” Till said before stepping out of the suite.

“No one’s been in here since the murder, right?” Andre asked, searching her living space.

“No, not that I know of. What are you looking for?”

“Anything that could point me to where Ciara might’ve gone.” Andre noticed an outplace vase on the mantle.

“Have you always had that?”

“Hmm, I’ve never noticed it, no I don’t remember getting that.” Andre grabbed the glass case and found a microphone inside.

“What the fuck—” Andre held up a finger to his lips, signaling her to not speak.

“Can I get some water please?”

“Sure,” Paige quickly poured Andre a glass of water he then put the microphone in the glass.

“Someone’s been listening to your conversations. Do you have any idea why?”

“No, I don’t all I do is go to work and come home.”

“Withholding information can land you in serious trouble. Who knows what fucked up ways they have of making you talk. If you know something you gotta tell me.” Paige sighed as she plopped down on the sofa.

“Ciara was talking about a Rebellion; she had a contact in Third Class. I told her to be careful,” She lamented.

“What happened the last time you saw her?”

“She came over after school and she was talking about the Rebellion finally starting. She said she was getting notes at her door…warnings. She was going to meet her contact in Third and I told her to be careful, there are eyes and ears everywhere. I begged her to stay the night, said she would be fine. When she left a man was waiting for her outside, her contact from the Third class.”

“Did you get his name?”

“Cole. Cole Peterson. That was the last time I saw her.” Andre could see the sadness on her face and couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

“I promise Paige, I’m gonna find her killer and make sure that she gets justice.” Before Paige could answer, the door burst open.

“Ma’am you can’t go in there.”

“Ma’am I told you I’m dropping her daughter off.” A girl no more than three years old, came running into the room. A head full of curls bouncing with each movement.

“Mommy!” the girl said, launching herself into Paige’s arms.

“What happened?” Paige asked looking at the woman.

“She got sick and then I went by your classroom…” while the woman whom Andre assumed to be a daycare worked explained the situation all he could do was stare at the young child and realize how much she looked like him. She couldn’t be, could she? It’s been almost four years since he’s seen Paige, this little girl could very well be his daughter.

“Mommy, who’s that?” The little girl asked, Andre locked eyes with Paige, one question on his mind. Knowing what thought loomed in his head, Paige nodded in confirmation.

“Thanks for bringing her home,” Paige said to the daycare worker.

“No problem, let me know how she’s feeling.” Once again they were alone, the tension in the air thick.

“Mommy, who is that?”

“He’s your Daddy. Andre, meet your daughter, Aaliyah.”

Tagging: @nikole-witha-k @iknowthekoolaidflavor @ramp-it-up @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @blackpinup22 @chrisevanswife0405 @mellie-teh-goblin-queen @azxulaa@luckyfriess @thatdamnlyssa @endless-romantic-stories @daveeds-wife @emilia-i @gothic-slaherfan-weeb@slashersluxsworld @chattykathysquietsister @aliyahsomerhalder @crystalannetem @tuhnayshuh

[pedropascalsx]

Kinktober - Day One: Mutual Masturbation.

Dave York x F! Reader.

Summary: Dave catches you.

Word Count: 569 (lol)

A/N: Kicking of Kinktober with some Dave York! Are we surprised? No. I hope you like this one. I’m hoping kinktober pulls me out of my writing rut. ❤️

Thank you to @absurdthirst for your amazing prompt list and for looking over this one for me and offering the best advice💙

His tongue dipped out, quickly wetting his lips as his eyes stayed focusing on you. Watching the way your fingers drew perfect little circles on your clit, and occasionally letting his eyes flicker up to focus on the way your tits moved up and down as your moans became breathier and you moved closer and closer to that delicious high.

Dave had caught you in the act moments before, not bothering to knock before he swiped the keycard he had made for your room. A smirk formed across his face, as you let his name slip from your lips, before realizing he was in the room.

“Filthy,” Dave mocked as he ripped you from your fantasy, the fantasy in which he had those extremely capable hands wrapped around your neck as he took exactly what he needed from a very enthusiastic you.

“Shit, Dave, I’m so sor—,” you began to splutter as you attempted to cover yourself with one of the pillows next to you.

“For what?” He asked, with a tut. “For thinking about me while playing with that pretty little pussy? Or for stopping just as it was getting… interesting.”

The mock pout he plastered across his face made you shiver, as he stood hands on his hips and the bottom of your bed.

“Move the goddamn pillow and finish what you started,” Dave ordered through clenched teeth, “Now.”

Silently you pushed away the pillow, staring at his face intently before spreading your legs and pressing two fingers to your clit that was pulsating with need.

“Slowly,” he hissed, as he pushed his jacket off his shoulders and loosened his tie. His hand came up to your knee and pushed your legs apart a little more before he reached down and freed his cock.

He met the gasp that fell from your lips with a chuckle as you took in the sight of your boss’ thick cock. Just looking at it alone made your pussy clench with need. Your teeth burrowed into your lip as he took himself in hand and started making languid strokes, every expert flick of his wrist making you more and more desperate to feel this man touch you. Anywhere.

“Move your hand away, let me see how wet you are,” he growled, as he kneeled down onto the bed, still stroking his cock as he moved closer to you. “Fuck. You’re ficking filthy, aren’t you?”

His name was the only thing you could say, as you moved your fingers back down and increased your pace. Watching the way his hand moved up and down his shaft as he filled your ears with filth that rolled off his tongue with ease.

“You’re going to cum, my filthy little girl,” he said, as he stroked himself a little faster, “Fuck. Do it.”

Your deft fingers circled with clit as fast as they could as you chanted his name like an oath, one word somehow filled with endless promises, and with a final whimper of his name, everything went black. Pleasure started pumping throughout your veins and your body twisted and convulsed in pleasure. The sound of his voice talking you through it, muffled but never stopping.

His spare hand was squeezing your thigh as you came down from your high, the other still furiously pumping his cock. He licked his lips once again before smirking and announcing, “We’re just getting started, my sweet girl.”

[pimosworld]

The ties that bind

Pairing-Dave York x f!reader x Frankie Morales

Series Summary-Dave is a private investigator who tracks down soulmates. He’s tasked to find Frankie’s, but what happens when he finds you and wants you all to himself?

CW-18+, MDNI,NSFW, Angst, Fluff, Hurt,Comfort, Eventual smut, MMF dynamics, a lot of music references, best friends loving each other.

WK-5.2K

A/N- Santi puts his investigation skills to use and maybe a little of his personal agenda.

I really appreciate all the love and feedback I’ve been getting on this story so please keep it coming. 🤍

[Series Masterlist][Main Masterlist]

Not beta read

Chapter III

Santiago set out for the long haul, despite Frankie telling him Dave’s lead was just a few hours away. He had a bag packed for several days and the gas tank was full. Much to his surprise a short amount of time later he parks down the street from Dave on the streets of downtown Naples. 

  Ninety minutes

  He watches Dave enter a sandwich shop briefly and exit with a large white bag. Santi’s car is inconspicuous enough but he stays a safe distance just in case. Men in Dave’s line of work aren’t going to be easily followed, unless they are distracted of course. 

  In Santi’s case it seems he’s distracted enough to not have noticed him tailing him for the better part of two hours. 

  He hasn’t done anything out of the ordinary but there’s this uneasy feeling building in his gut telling Santiago this isn’t just a coincidence. 

  Each move he made was thought out and deliberate…not more than five minutes from the sandwich spot he’s parked in front of some storefront shops. He passes a clothing boutique, plant shop and a tourist spot before he enters what looks like a music store. 

  There’s a painting in the window and a plant wall obstructing his view. Even with binoculars Santi can only make out Dave’s profile as he stands at the front counter. His body language and movements are telling of a man flirting. Any man would know without military training what it looks like when you’re nervous and trying to impress someone. 

  ****

  You really did love Mrs. Carlson…she kept you company on boring days, talking about music from her younger days. You would sit and listen to all her favorites in the back while she reminisced and told you stories about her wilder times. 

  She always had to preface the story by telling you it was before she met Mr. Carlson. They moved here several years ago to escape the cold and live out their golden years. They were the kind of soulmates that gave you hope. 

  You really did love her….

  Right now you would love it if she wrapped up her fifth telling of the first time she heard the righteous brothers at the drive in movie theater…Dave should be here soon and you want to close up the shop for lunch. 

  The front door chimes just as she gets to the part about her date getting too handsy. 

  “Be right there.” You call out towards the door as she reaches out for you to help her from the chair.

  “Thanks for listening to my rambling dear, you make this old lady very happy.” She places her record in the sleeve and slides it into her large purse. 

  “You’re not that old Mrs. Carlson.” You smile at her and she laughs. 

  She reminded you so much of your grandmother. The sweetest person in the world but won’t take any of your shit. Your dad always said you were so much like her. 

  “Don’t lie to me dear, that’s my husband's job.” You wrap your arm in hers as you both make your way towards the front of the store. 

  He’s standing there in a polo and jeans, a white paper bag in his hands that he’s clutching for dear life. It’s adorable to see him so nervous and you feel a light squeeze to your arm as you approach him. 

  “He brought food, that’s a good sign.” She whispers to you as you let her arm go. 

  Dave notices her and rushes to open the door. 

  “A gentleman too.” She winks at you and exits as he turns to you with a curious look on his face. 

  “She’s here almost as much as you.” You reach for the bag as he holds it behind his back. 

  “Oh…jokes at my expense.” You shake your head as you step into his space. 

  He doesn’t back away from you as you reach around tracing your fingers down his arm, you’re becoming addicted to the way he smells, the way he can’t look anywhere but at you. He’s thoroughly distracted as you extricate the package from his hands and peak inside. 

  “No jokes…just sandwiches from my favorite place.” 

  He smiles wide at that, the way you dip your nose into the bag and make the most intoxicating noise. 

  “Lucky guess.” 

  You crinkle the bag and hand it back to him, stepping out of the dangerous bubble that is Dave’s presence. 

  “If you got turkey with everything then you might just be the luckiest man alive.” 

  He thinks at this moment he may very well be. 

  ****

  It was a short walk to lowdermilk park, your suggestion to enjoy your lunch on this beautiful sunny day. Thankfully it wasn’t too humid so you didn’t have to explain your excessive sweating to Dave. Although you may have been sweating for entirely different reasons when you’re in his presence. 

  He listens intently as you point out some of your favorite shops on your walk, he enjoys hearing you tell him little bits and pieces about your daily life. 

The way your eyes crinkle when you smile or how you wave your arms when you get particularly excited about something. 

  You seem too distracted to notice how he looks over his shoulder every so often. He’s unable to kick that nagging feeling like he’s being watched. 

  It’s a picture perfect setting as you approach the park. Couples stroll along the water's edge hand in hand, while the children build sandcastles and chase the foamy remnants of the retreating waves. 

  “Oh perfect.” You skip over to a bench facing the water and kick off your sandals. “I love this spot because it’s half way in the park, but I can still put my feet in the sand.” 

  He smiles as he sits across from you and lays out the contents of the bag. You quickly reach for the jalapeño chips and he smirks knowing he’s checking all the silent boxes. 

  “These are my favorite.” 

  “Well then I’m two for two.” You offer him the bag to share and it’s something he’s gathered about you. You’re a giver and Dave is a taker. Right now he’s taking moments with you meant for someone else. 

  Something brushes his foot under the table and he peaks under to see the small mound of sand you’ve dug in. 

  “Those aren’t really beach friendly shoes Dave.” You grin at him playfully as you dive into your sandwich. 

  “I wasn’t planning on going to the beach today.” 

  Your laugh seeps deep into his chest. As bright as the sun shining on you both. 

  “Last time I checked, you came to Florida.” You wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “The state of endless beaches.”

  “Last time I checked it’s called the sunshine state.” You note the teasing tone in his voice. 

  You try not to let your mind rob you of this perfect moment. It’s been so long since you’ve allowed yourself the chance to be happy. 

  “Sorry, I was just joking.” He grimaces a little as he sees your face drop momentarily. 

  “No,no it’s not you.” You wave him off as you finish your sandwich. “Can’t let the intrusive thoughts win.” 

  He huffs at that, most of his life consisted of letting those intrusive thoughts in. Except he’s noticed when he’s with you. The thoughts aren’t as frequent. 

  Your phone buzzes on the table and you briefly glance at the screen to see a message from Alicia, but more importantly the time. He sees that look on your face again as your eyes meet his. 

  “I should be getting back soon.” You can’t believe how quickly an hour goes by when you’re with him. You hate to end your date so soon but you don’t feel like explaining to your boss why you took a long lunch.He couldn’t be bothered to stop by but still calls regularly to keep tabs on you.

  “Let’s get you back before we have a riot outside the store.” Your laugh is disarming in a way he never expected as he bags up the trash for the both of you. 

  He studies you carefully as you gently brush the sand of your feet and place your shoes on. The powder blue blouse falls open slightly and he doesn’t look away as fast as he should. 

  When you look up at him momentarily catching the way he’s looking at you, you’re grateful Alicia let you borrow her top. 

  He should be embarrassed for acting like a horny teenager but the way you smile at him when he’s clearly been caught checking you out says maybe he could get away with a little more. 

  When you happily accept his extended hand it’s all but confirmed that this is something he could get used to. It’s nearly perfect the  way your soft hand fits perfectly into the grasp of his and you lean in a little when you begin your walk back to the store. 

  You can tell he deliberately matches your strides, a subtle way of saying I don’t want to rush you…take your time. It’s a comfortable silence as you walk hand in hand. Only the sound of  crunching sand on the gravel and the light breeze rustling the palm trees. If you hadn’t started this playful banter with him from the beginning you’d diminish under his intense gaze. 

  There’s a fondness growing between you that you won’t soon be able to detach from. Yet you still know next to nothing about him. You file that away for tomorrow's problems. Right now you want to enjoy the rest of one of the best hours you’ve had in months without Alicia. 

  You’re relieved as you approach the store that no one is waiting outside to burst your bubble. 

  You’re waiting for him to say something as you unlock the front door and turn on the neon open sign. He follows behind you quietly like a lost puppy unsure of his next move. 

  You rock back and forth on the balls of your feet, a nervous habit you couldn’t kick for the life of you. “Well…I had a nice time on our lunch date.” The odd look on his face as soon as the word leaves your mouth has you instantly regretting putting a label on it. He brought you a sandwich for god sake. 

  “Date huh.” It’s meant to come off much more lighthearted than he says and by the bewildered look on your face he definitely said the wrong thing. “I would love to take you on a proper date. If that’s alright with you?” 

  Relief washes over you and before you have a moment to process he’s leaning in, crowding your space but you don’t mind. His hand cups your jaw with just the right amount of pressure as he tilts your face up and kisses you on the cheek. Tease. Your first thought but then again, what a gentleman. 

  “Since it’s our first date.” He winks at you as he stands to his full height. “I’m not usually so modest but I thought I’d spare you the onions from my lunch.” 

  Perhaps you were a little desperate but you would take the onions and whatever else he wanted to offer at this point but you don’t want to push. Second date. 

  “So I’ll text you or call, so we can plan our proper date.” 

  “Whatever you want, hummingbird.” 

  You miss the warmth of his hand on your chin, like he’s branded you. You’re momentarily stuck as he exits…the buzzing in your pocket brings you back to life and you remember you need to text your best friend. 

  ****

Santiago was starting to feel a little crazy. 

  About as crazy as he felt dragging all of his friends to the jungle and stealing from a drug lord. 

  He had dated plenty of women on the job, so he’s not sure what he’s looking for as he watches Dave from afar on a seemingly harmless lunch. 

  It’s obvious by your body language that you’re attracted to him. Dave’s a lucky man. You’re strikingly beautiful. He can't really blame the guy for taking a break to spend some time with you. 

  But there it is again, that persistent beast that lives dormant in his chest. Something is off. Frankie or rather himself isn’t paying Dave to go on dates. Frankie had said it was bad news about any leads on his soulmate and by the looks of it, Dave’s not in any hurry to sniff out anymore. 

  Once this is all said and done Santiago thinks he’ll need to find a healthy hobby. He’s spent years treating every aspect of his life like a recon mission and it’s becoming exhausting. It’s probably for the best that he wasn't going to have the opportunity or subject his soulmate to his obsessive compulsive behavior. 

  He has to see this through for his friend and then maybe he’ll start to work on his own love life 

  He watches briefly as Dave exits the quaint record store where you presumably worked before he decides he’s going to go in. He has no idea what he’s looking for or what compels him to do so but he’s locking the car door and moving down the street before his brain has a chance to catch up to his feet. 

  It’s risky

  Dave could come back at any moment and see him. 

He doesn’t have an explanation as to why he would be here. Right now it doesn’t matter. 

  ****

  The door chimes before you have a chance to text Alicia. You quickly shove your phone in your back pocket and when you meet eyes with the man who enters the store, you’re certain you stop breathing. 

  Your mouth hangs agape and he chuckles lowly at you as he scrubs his hand behind his neck nervously. 

  You manage something close enough to a greeting as you take in his appearance. He’s chiseled to say the least, tan skin and well kept salt and pepper curls. The way he smiles at you is practiced, he’s used to people looking at him this way and he doesn’t seem to mind one bit. 

  “Hi, I’m Santiago.” He confidently steps into your space and holds his hand out to you. 

  Most customers who weren’t regulars came and went without so much as a polite nod your way, definitely not on a first name basis. You weren’t about to pass up an opportunity for an introduction with this handsome stranger as you sheepishly extended your hand and gave him your name. 

  His eyes drop briefly from your face and you think he may go for a look in your revealing blouse, but they travel further to where your hands are joined. His grip is strong but not forceful as it tightens slightly. The look he gives you when your hands drop is more one of amazement than flirtation. 

  “So…what brings you into the store? Looking for anything in particular?” He notices the shift in your voice. The way it perks up at the prospect of getting a peek into his brain. 

  Music can say a lot about a person. 

  “Metallica.” He says assuredly and you chuckle as you wave him over to the section for heavy metal. 

  “Something funny, cariño?” The playfulness in his tone, nearly mirroring your first interaction with Dave. 

  “Oh it’s nothing, I’m just oddly not surprised by your choice.” You say it so matter of fact. Like you’ve already got him figured out. 

  “Should I be offended?” He scoffs as he tries to keep his eyes on the back of your head and not your body. He absolutely can not be checking out his friend's soulmate. He noticed the tattoo almost immediately when he shook your hand. 

  “That’s entirely up to you sweetheart.” You wink at him over your shoulder as you stop in front of a large row of records. The middle of the stack is not marked as you lean forward confidently and thumb through a few before sliding one out of the row. 

  He smiles as you mutter something to yourself and stare at the front like a precious work of art you’re admiring. 

  “I have a feeling you’re going to love this one.” You hand it to him gently. “That is if you really like them for —.”

  “Holy shit.” You watch his eyes light up as he starts laughing in disbelief. He has to take a step back as if that’s going to bring it into focus. You love this reaction. It’s why you do this and spend countless hours listening and researching. 

  “How do you have a special edition master of puppets for…thirty dollars?!” His voice is nearly a shout at the end and you can’t help but burst into laughter at his utter shock. 

  “It’s my specialty. I spend a lot of time finding affordable vinyls so that everyone can enjoy them. A lot of people don’t realize what they have and they end up just giving things easy for free.” You wave your hands as you explain your passion and he can clearly see why Dave has tripped and bumped his head. “So anyway…that’s where I come in. So people like you and I can experience the finer things.” 

  The most ironic part of your statement is you have no idea what Santiago can afford. Now he can afford a lot more and if he really wanted this he could’ve bought it at the real price. You don’t need to know that. Old habits die hard and Santiago has a hard time spoiling himself knowing what it cost to get that money. So to him…this is a prize. A glimpse into his old life and the old version of him would’ve bought this in a heartbeat.

  “I’ll take it.” You let out an excited squeak and he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his face. 

  “Do you want to listen to it? We have a player in the back of the store and a place to relax.” He should say no. He glances nervously behind him and meets your cheerful expression again. 

  “Lead the way cariño.” 

  You bounce toward the back and then remember yourself and the flimsy top and opt to walk briskly. He’s keeping pace with you as you approach the little nook. 

  He sets the record on the small gold holder next to the zenith. You both reach for the dust cover and he levels you with a look of ‘let me’. You step back with your arms crossed signaling you’ll let him for now.

  He slides the shiny gold record out of its sleeve. Holding it delicately at the edges. He places it calmly on the turntable as he lets out a small puff of air. 

  He flips the switch on the top and the light signals as his hands admire the framework. The light humm in the speakers starts as he lifts the tone arm to the vinyl and carefully places the stylus on the end. 

  The menacing sound of the electric guitar plays slowly through the small speakers. Followed promptly by the sound of the front door chiming. 

  He doesn’t see you turn as you both curse under your breath. 

  This is it. He would have to confront Dave about why he lied and this is not at all how he wants you to find out about Frankie. He rolls his shoulders back as the music escalates into the frenzied uptempo crusher that he knows it to be. 

  When he turns around he curses for an entirely different reason as he’s met with the enraged look of a tall, dark haired brunette stomping towards you both down the aisle. 

  You’ve already succumbed to defeat as you raise your hands in apology. Things just kept happening and you forgot to text your best friend to let her know you were still alive. 

  “I’m so sorry Alicia—.” She cuts you off with her hand in the air. 

  “Save it.” She slaps her hands down to her jeans as she bends over attempting to catch her breath. 

  Alicia, Alicia, Alicia. 

  Santiago repeats the name until it’s etched into his skull. He can hardly hear the bass of the music over the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. 

  Alicia looks up when the burning in her chest subsides from running more in the least twenty minutes then she has in all her life. She had come in with such a blind rage and concern that she hardly noticed the Adonis standing next to you looking at her like a deer in headlights.  

  She stands to her full height once again, smirking at him as he swallows thick. 

  “Hey handsome, can I borrow my friend for a moment?” Her voice drops to a sultry tone and Santiago just nods as she wraps her arms around you and guides you away.

  His hands find the silver knob on the player just as the song ends to turn it down slightly before it picks up again. 

  “What’s our rule?” She can’t hide the quiver in her voice, now that she’s not on display. Her cheeks are red and her eyes are filled with worry. You hated that you worried her so much while your head was in the clouds. 

  “Always check in—.”

  “Always. check. in.” She shakes your shoulders with each punctuation as her lips turn up into a smile. You’re laughing with her now as she pulls you into a hug. “Dibs on the hot piece of ass.” She whispers into your ear before letting you go. 

  “He’s all yours.” 

  She excitedly grabs your hand and leads you back to the record player. 

  He’s standing facing it, with his arms crossed. The black shirt pulling taught along his muscular back as he seems lost in the lyrics. 

  Master of puppets I’m pulling your strings

Twisting your mind and smashing your dreams

  “You break it, you buy it.” She leans in close to him but he doesn’t flinch. Letting her words drip down his spine like honey on tree bark. 

  “He already promised me he’d buy it.” You say as you plop down on the small tufted chair to watch the mating game. 

  “Smart man.” She picks up the cover and inspects it as she whistles. “You’re getting a great deal.” 

  “Oh I’m aware sweetheart.” He winks at you as he places his hands confidently on his hips. 

  You wish you had some popcorn right now for the front row seat to this show. She flips her hair over her shoulder and his jaw ticks trying to keep his eyes on her face. He has to look up at her with him being nearly eye level with her chest. You have to give it to him. He's doing pretty well. 

  “I should buy this for you.” She bumps his hip out of the way as she lifts the arm to stop the record. It’s not often Santiago ceded control and right now he’s willing to let this play out. “I didn’t mean to be so dramatic. I just had to make sure my friend wasn’t Murdered on her lunch break by her date.” She looks over at you and sticks out her tongue as you mirror her actions. 

  Santiago’s throat goes dry at the word. Date. 

  He doesn’t have time to unpack that so he recovers quickly before she notices the color draining from his face. 

  “I take it you’re not one to argue with.” 

  “Wow, he learns quickly.” She slides the record into the sleeve and places it lightly against his chest. 

  He stops her before she can pull her hands away. “I’ll let you buy this for me if you let me buy you dinner.” 

  Wow she’s good, that must be some kind of record. 

  “Consider it done, mystery man.” 

  “Santiago.” You chime in from the chair as you lean back and smile at them. They both turn to you seemingly haven forgotten your existence for the few brief moments they shamelessly flirted. 

  “Well Santiago I’m—.”

  “Alicia.” He huffs in satisfaction as she pulls out her phone and hands it to him. 

  The door chimes and you see two younger women enter. You slink out of the chair and head to the front to give them some space. You throw a thumbs up over her shoulder at him and you see the way the corner of his mouth turns up as he enters his digits into her phone. 

  ****

  Santiago thumps his head against the steering wheel hoping the mindless drumming will bring him some clarity. 

  He needs to tell Frankie about you. He needs to talk to Dave. He needs to plan a date for the girl of his dreams. He really needs to get his priorities in check with this whole situation. One step at a time. 

  He decides first to text Alicia to plan something before she loses interest. He’s never felt such an instant connection with someone and he doesn’t want this opportunity to pass him by. It’s pretty selfish of him considering the circumstances of which he met her but Frankie doesn’t need to know that. Yet. 

  ****

  You helped a few more customers after Santiago left with the widest grin on his face you’re ever seen. 

  Alicia hadn’t emerged from the back of the store until the last person left. She strolled down the aisle with a giddy look on her face as she typed away feverishly at her phone. 

  “You were worried about me being murdered and you agreed to go on a date before you even knew his name.” She finally looks up at you from her phone as you raise your eyebrows at her. 

   She points her finger at you before hopping up onto the counter. “Do as I say, not as I do.” 

  You rest your chin on her shoulder as you both stare out the window. “I don’t think I can take that advice right now.” You sigh dramatically into her ear. “I really like him.” 

  “You’re saying that like it’s a bad thing.” She pauses to let you continue even though she knows what’s going through your head. “Listen babe…not every guy who isn't your soulmate is gonna be like Nate.” 

  Nathan. The man you fell in love with. The reason you decided to move across the country after he decided he’d had enough. As much as you tried to convince him that it didn’t matter, the seed had already planted itself deep in his thoughts. Each time a new tattoo emerged on your body it was like salt in the wound. 

  He would ignore you for days, treat you like a stranger in your own home. For reasons you had no control over. No amount of love bombing or gifts, endless reassurance that you were devoted to him could convince him that you were his. 

  When he broke it off with you and told you to leave you were gutted. Your step mom refused to let you move in with her and your father. It drove an even bigger wedge between you and your already fractured relationship. 

  It took many late nights with Alicia after you moved in and a multitude of therapy sessions for you to realize that he was not the one. Someone who treated your body and your mind like a careless possession was not someone to behold. 

  A small tear rolls down your cheek and lands quietly on her shoulder. She turns to you and sighs as she cups your face in her hands. “You know what’s different about this time?” She asked as her thumb wiped away another stray tear. You shook your head instead of speaking unsure if your voice would betray you. “You have me, and I won’t let anything like that happen to you again.” 

  She held out her pinky as you chuckled. Wiping the rest of your red face before anyone else came in. No matter the outcome you are ready to put your heart out there again. Any person to cross you should think twice, Alicia was never one to break a promise. 

  ****

  “Cálmate hermano.” Santi bristles at the look Frankie gives him as he watches the man pace in his living room. 

  “You can’t seriously be telling me to calm down.” His face is beet red and the muscles strain in his neck as he tries to keep his voice level. Tensions have been high to say the least. Santiago hasn’t looked this nervous since he asked the boys to help him go back for the money. 

  Frankie already knew that look in his eyes when he pulled up to his house unannounced. He was however not prepared for the emotional roller coaster of a conversation that Pope had prepared for him. 

  They’re relationship over the last decade or so has been complicated to put it bluntly. Despite their ups and downs they always managed to make it back to each other. Frankie always said Pope might as well have been his soulmate because he could never get rid of him. At his core Santi always had his friends best interests at heart, even though his way of going about things usually resulted in some form of chaos. Maybe it was the universe or just his pure dumb luck but the handsome bastard always stepped in shit and came out smelling like roses. 

  Right now as Frankie leans against his kitchen island with his hands bound in fists he’s starting to think Santi’s luck may have run out. 

  His fingers are itching in his palms and the sweat trickles down his back. He can almost taste the metallic remnants of what he used to do in situations like this. 

  Santi is reticent at the moment and as mad as Frankie is at him he’s reluctant to leave. He knows Frankie’s addiction was of his own doing but he can’t help but feel guilty about running away whenever things got complicated. Will and Ben had each other, and Santiago selfishly let Frankie go through all the fallout alone while he absconded off to some beach on the other side of the world. 

  His friend was a shell of himself when he returned and he vowed to never let him go through that alone again. 

  So now he waits for either Frankie to speak or strangle him. Whichever way he’ll deal with the outcome because it’s what he deserves. 

  “You’re gonna take me there.” Santi opens his mouth to speak but Frankie holds his hand up. “I need you to watch my back, in case that asshole shows up. I’m going to tell her everything and even if she doesn’t want me, she needs to know the truth.” 

  Frankie may have had his issues but he was virtuous and despite it all, Santiago respects him for it. It’s why he quickly agrees to whatever he wants. 

  Once Frankie has calmed down a bit he starts asking questions about you. They chat over beers and Santiago answers as much as he can about your short interaction. He can hear the optimism in his voice, hanging onto every word. 

  Santi tries not to give him too many descriptors. He wants Frankie to have something from all this. He won’t take away the thing he’s been wanting for years. That moment when he finally gets to meet you. To know that you’re real in the flesh. 

  “Ugh…I forgot to mention one thing Fish.” Frankie grumbles as he sets his empty bottle on the coffee table. “I might have a date with her best friend.” 

  “You’ve got to be kidding me Pope.” 

Prev/Next

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[dave-me0wstaine]

i'm thinking about bad boy! dave who uses scary movies as an excuse to grope his innocent girlfriend, who's absolutely terrified of them. or any movies, really. he'll watch anything with you if it means you'll curl up in his arms and he's able to run his hands along your breasts, feigning as if he's playing with your hair, or along the slope of your ass, drawing shapes and "accidentally" squeezing your flesh.

and tonight, halloween night, is no different. as always, dave's snuck through your window while your parents sleep away in their room, unaware of his presence. he's brought along a couple of new slasher movies he's rented from the video store for the special holiday. he's almost vibrating with excitement as he comes through the window, and you think it's due to the excitement of the holiday, but really, dave's horny, and he knows he's about to get his hands on you.

it isn't long before the two of you are cuddled up on your pink bed, surrounded by a few of your stuffies, his arm wrapped around your waist and playing with the hem of your frilly tank top. after a particularly bad scare, you hide your face in dave's neck, whimpering at the sight of blood across your tv screen. you feel dave's hand slither underneath your top, his warm hand soothing the goosebumps that rise on your skin.

"s'okay, baby," he purrs, smoothing his hand against your side, fingers trailing dangerously close to the side of your bra. "d'you want me to turn it off?"

he feels your head shake in response, and he simply chuckles in response. you always do this whenever you two watch a scary movie; you always end up terrified, but refuse to turn the movie off.

now, you're laid on top of him, your chest pressed to his, his fingers now ghosting the clip of your bra. another scare, and again you cower into his neck. dave shifts to kiss the top of your head, and gently unclips your bra, and smooths his fingers across the indentations it left behind.

"davie?" you whisper, confused. he's always liked touching you during a movie, you knew that, but always chocked it up to him being affectionate. this, however, was bold of him.

"shh, just turn a bit for me," he says, shifting your body to where you're laying on your side, so that he has access to your breasts. he begins kneading the flesh of one of your breasts, occasionally rolling your nipple between his fingers.

"hey," he says, taking his hand away from your breast to lift your head out of the crook of his neck, "keep watchin' the movie, okay? it's almost over."

you nod your head, but it's hard to focus when he's playing with you like this. eventually, you feel his other hand slide down between your legs, groping your pussy through your panties. he rubs hard circles around your clit, making you squirm and try to close your thighs around his hand.

all of a sudden, dave shifts, moving to hover over you. he leans down and gives you a deep kiss to your lips, and it's only then that you realize that the movie has ended, and is now playing the credits.

as he's kissing you, dave spreads your legs and pulls your panties to the side. as he pulls away from you, he rubs the underside of your thighs, admiring you laid out underneath him.

"did so good, baby, watching that movie like a big girl." his eyes trail down to your glistening heat, to your innocent doe eyes looking up at him. he rubs a calloused thumb against your clit, and revels in your breath hitching and your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks.

"how about i reward you for being so good, yeah?"

[marril96]

The stalker sends the BAU a video of Alison. Emotions run high.

[exquisiteserotonin]

Last Line Tag Game

Thanks for the tag @magpiepills and @youandmeand5bucks

It was in that moment, you wondered, maybe, if Dave had it all wrong.

It’s about to get angsty up in this house for Dave and Firefly. I haven’t orphaned this, don’t worry. If anything gutted it’s ending soon.

No pressure tags: @arcanefox207 @legendary-pink-dot @pink-whiskey-woman @secretelephanttattoo @morallyinept

[disassociation-daydreams]

Sometimes I reread this and fall in love with my own writing again. Really want to write the second part whenever I have the motivation.

Secret Admirer - Dave York x F!Reader

A/N: Not only is this my first time ever writing fanfiction, but also the first time I've written anything in general, not counting essays in college? But I've had this idea rolling around my head the past few days and felt the need to get it written down. Shoutout to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for being so supportive and an amazing human being overall! I definitely would not have typed this out or posted it if it wasn't for you <3

Sorry if this hurts you the way it hurt me! Idk why my brain did this.

Summary: Dave is meant to be watching a target, but instead he ends up paying more attention to you.

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ (mdni)

Word Count: 3,010

Tags and Warnings: allusion to murder, allusion to violence, possessiveness, stalking, obsession, age gap, pervy Dave, pining Dave, allusion to drug addiction at end, mention of alcohol, slight voyeurism, mention of hospital stay, mention of suicide (only to cover up for Dave being a murderer), angst (I think that's it? My first time ever doing warnings)

He was meant to be watching a new target; noting the time of day he’d get home (Wednesdays and Thursdays a few hours later than the other days of the week), his habits (smoking a joint and passing out on his couch before he even made it to his bed), and anything else the piece of shit did that was noteworthy. And to be fair, he was watching him… but he was also watching her.

Her, whose windows he could see right into as he watched from the dark apartment in the building adjacent to theirs. Her, who just happened to have the apartment in direct view of his vantage point. Her, who was one door down from his target. He was trying to be discreet when he chose an apartment diagonal from his current prey; he hadn’t meant for it to turn into a distraction.

He hadn’t meant to watch her as well; he had never been the type to voyeur, to invade an innocent person’s privacy for his own enjoyment (that was saved only for the guilty). But her curtains were always wide open, both her living room and bedroom lit up from lamps until she turned them out, a tv until she was tired of watching in one room, shutting it off and then the other illuminating the space in the next, or even her phone as she stared down at it in her bed. 

He hadn’t meant to watch, but he also couldn’t stop. 

From evening to the early hours of the morning, his attention was hers. Her apartment was cozy, filled with soft blankets, books littering multiple surfaces, mugs of coffee (or maybe tea?) all over the place, and a cat tower in each room sometimes occupied with a small, white cat that she fawned over when she arrived home between 6:15 and 6:25 PM every weekday. She had a seemingly normal schedule for a 25 year old (he knew her age from research he had done for strictly professional reasons). He would be gone by the time she woke up each day, but based on her clothing that she stripped out of as soon as she got home each night and the information he could find online, she seemed to have the typical 9-5 schedule that accompanied a boring office job. 

Her schedule seemed monotonous on those days: come home, greet her cat, shower and change into a large t-shirt and panties (his second favorite part of her routine), make dinner for her and said cat, then collapse into bed. Sometimes she would scroll through her phone or pick up a book for a few hours with the tv on the opposite wall brightening up the space slightly, until she fell asleep around 10:00 PM (this was his favorite part of her routine). For hours after that, when she (and the target) were both sound asleep, he could watch her without feeling so guilty for doing so. He could watch the way her body tossed and turned a few times for the first couple hours until she settled into her REM sleep. He could watch the slow and steady rise of her breasts, the peaceful look on her face with her full lips slightly parted, the way her arms never seemed to get comfortable while she slept, sometimes clutching a pillow to her chest or sometimes rising above her head as if her wrists were pinned in place (fuck, he wants to do that to her, encase her small wrists in one of his palms and hold her arms still while the rest of her body writhed and squirmed underneath him). He wishes he could watch her when she wakes up, see the way her soft and pliant body stretches, memorize her morning routine so he could imagine himself in more parts of her life. He can’t risk it though; can’t risk the morning light illuminating where he and his camera sit perched, can’t risk falling asleep in this spot as exhaustion from being up all night overcomes his body, can’t risk getting a glimpse into more parts of her life and falling more in love than he already has. 

So, he takes what he can get. He sits there and watches her (and him; yes, the target still exists) for a few weeks, her weekday routine monotonous, but her weekends not so much. She came home later on those days, usually a little past midnight, sometimes only a little earlier. She never brought anyone home with her, her makeup was always perfectly in-tact, and she never seemed the slightest bit tipsy, her footsteps steady but also lighter as if she had a song stuck in her head from earlier in the night that she was still dancing to. He had come to the conclusion that she was out with friends after the first two nights of this routine. Or at least he hoped for his sake and the other party’s. He had no right to feel possessive over her, to feel like he had a claim to her body and her heart, and he knew this rationally… but that didn’t stop him from wanting to break the wrist of any possible suitor that laid a hand on her waist, to punch any mouth that could have landed on her soft skin until the face beneath his fist would be unrecognizable. She wasn’t his, but that didn’t stop him.

Her routine was predictable for the most part, even on those weekend nights where the time she was coming home varied. It was predictable until it wasn’t. It was predictable until one Saturday night she didn’t make it home (big deal, she probably crashed at a friends, right?). It was predictable until she still wasn’t home Sunday night and he saw her cat pacing around in anxiety and probably hunger. It was predictable until he watched another girl her age enter the apartment Monday night, feed the cat and pet it, then pack some clothes and other items into a bag before leaving and locking up the apartment again. The routine became predictable again, but not with his girl. Instead, he watched this random girl stroll in at the same time for four days, feed the cat and spend time with it on her couch for an hour, and then leave, just to repeat the next day. 

It took less than two days of that routine for him to cave and figure out where she was; Boston Medical Center, been there since the Saturday she stopped coming home, discharge date undetermined and reason for her admittance not given. He could’ve dived deeper, threatened the life of her nurse or doctor for more information, hacked into the hospital’s medical records, and he was about to be at that point, until she returned home on Friday with the same random girl from the past four nights helping her inside. 

______________________________________________________________

Dave York was not a good man and never could be considered one. He stalked, tortured, murdered; some for money and others for pleasure. His dreams, not nightmares, were full of vengeance against the people he deemed guilty and felt he should bring justice to. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he had a nightmare, not sure there was anything left in this shithole of a world that could scare him… until this. He had lost count of the amount of people he had drained life from, but at this moment he had never wanted to kill anyone more even though had no idea who his victim was. He was sure that when he made it home in the morning that he would be fighting against sleep because every time he blinked, all he could see was this version of you behind his eyelids. You, his soft, angelic girl with the cute, white cat and the predictable routine. You, who was now limping through your house, a large black boot on your right foot, bruises scattered up your plush thighs, disappearing under your clothes until they reappeared around your neck in the shape of handprints. You, who usually had a soft smile gracing your lips, but whose face now winced in pain from the light your friend just turned on that beamed directly into your black-eye. 

Dave was sure he was looking into the camera still, but he couldn’t see you anymore. In fact, he couldn’t see anything at all, anything except the color red.

______________________________________________________________

You don’t remember when you first noticed it, the feeling that you were being watched. You don’t even know if you are, nothing ever confirming your suspicions, you just had this feeling. This feeling that there were almost always eyes burning holes into the side of your face, or the back of your neck depending on which way your body was turned. The feeling wasn’t always there, in fact you only felt it for a few hours a day, from the moment you came home until you fell asleep. By the morning, it was gone and you wouldn’t think anything of it, moving on with your usual routine. 

It should have scared you, should have creeped you out. You could’ve closed your curtains, could have told someone and tried to check it out, but you hadn’t. For one, you didn’t want people to think you were paranoid, and secondly, the gaze never seemed predatory. In fact, you often felt protected, endeared, even revered… which may sound crazier than the idea that someone was watching you if you ever told anyone that.

You had an idea of where the feeling was coming from, somewhere in the building next to yours, but you never searched the windows to figure out who, mostly because you weren’t entirely sure you’d want them to stop like they probably would if they were caught. So, you went on with your routine, always feeling their gaze at night and never paying it in any mind. You had almost completely forgotten about it at this point, after being away from home for so many nights in that god-forsaken hospital bed. It had been the furthest thing from your mind, the least of your concerns after what you had endured and the pain that was still wracking your body. But, you felt it again now, as you sat on the edge of your bed, trying not to cry anymore than you had been, not sure if the tears would even come anymore. You felt their gaze peering into the side of your head, watching you.

Had they noticed your absence? Did they wonder where you had gone, why someone else was in your apartment every night, why your body was now littered in bruises? Did they care? You didn’t even know if they existed, but that didn’t stop you. It didn’t stop you from walking over to the desk in your living room, pulling out a piece of paper and a sharpie, and scribbling onto it before limping over to the window to tape your message for whoever was watching to see, on the off chance that they did care, or even existed.

______________________________________________________________

“I’M OKAY”

That’s all that was written, in large, black letters, on a piece of white paper that he watched you tape to your window. He should have felt more worried than he was, about the fact that you knew he was there, even if you didn’t know who he was. He didn’t know how long you had felt him there or why you felt the need to reassure him right now, all he knew is that he felt more angry than before. Angry at shitty societal standards that made you feel like you needed to act okay in a moment like this. Angry at himself for not being there to protect you from whoever thought it was a good idea to lay a hand on what was his. Angry at this person that he was going to find and torture until all the bruises and breaks in their body matched the ones they had left on yours. He was going to let this anger consume him until he saw the light go out of their eyes, until he saw it return to yours.

______________________________________________________________

Your routine became monotonous again, after a few more days of resting at home. The bruises were starting to fade along with the pain, although the boot would remain around your broken ankle for another few weeks. You were back at work the Monday after coming home, not able to justify to your corporate shit-head bosses that you needed more time off. The days seemed to be dragging on for longer, exhaustion overwhelming your healing body to the point that you were collapsing into your bed within an hour of getting home each day. By Wednesday evening, after a longer than usual wait for the metro, you might as well have been dead to the world around you, people and buildings blurring together, the sounds of the city sounding like white noise in your ears, until you arrived outside your apartment door and your eyes focused in on the bouquet of peonies sitting on the ground. 

Putting your key in the lock and pushing the door open behind the vase of flowers, you quickly bent down to pick them up while making sure not to spill anything out of your work bag in the process. After setting everything else on the floor by your couch, you placed the vase of your favorite flowers on the coffee table in front of it, the setting sun outside your window casting the room in a soft-orange glow, partially impeded by the “I’M OKAY” sign still taped to the window.

Taking a few more moments to get comfortable, your booted foot lifted up to rest next to the vase and Toast, your furry companion, begging for attention in your lap, you reached over to pluck the small card from in between some of the flowers.

Inside, in slightly messy and what could only be described as a man’s handwriting, a short message was written:

“Glad you’re okay, the other person isn't. They’ve been handled.”

It should have scared you for multiple reasons. One, the fact that someone is watching you was now confirmed, and two, they’ve alluded to doing another person harm.

It should have scared you, but it didn’t. You’ve never felt more safe.

______________________________________________________________

Dave watches you as you walk in with the flowers, as you pull out his card and read the short and possibly terrifying message he left inside. He watches as the first genuine smile he’s seen on your face since you disappeared on him graces your lips and gets his heart beating rapidly in his chest. You were smiling because of him, you weren’t scared of what he had written and what he alluded to doing. He had brought a smile to your face and he would be damned if he ever let it fall again.

Only a few minutes after watching you read his message, his eyes followed you as you took down your previous sign from the living window and replace it with a new one.

“THANK YOU 🖤” ______________________________________________________________

One week after that, the job Dave was originally watching for had been handled. He couldn’t justify it anymore, already taking weeks longer than he usually would just so he could prolong watching you every night, and hemorrhaging money on the weekly rent he was paying to use this apartment for his stake-out. On the last night of the job, he watched you with an alertness like never before, keeping his blinking to a minimum so he could commit each and every single part of your life and your being to memory. He stayed past the sunrise the next morning so he could finally witness your morning routine that he had fantasized about, giving himself one more piece of your life that he could imagine himself fitting into, in another life.

______________________________________________________________

You stopped feeling like someone was watching you. It happened suddenly, one night it was there and the next it wasn’t. It wasn’t there the night after either, or the one after that. Your mind couldn’t decide between being more worried that something had happened to them or that you would never get to feel their gaze upon you again. 

Paramedics had been in your building the night after the feeling had disappeared, entering the apartment next to yours and leaving with someone in a body bag. You weren't sure if the two were connected, but wouldn't be surprised if they were, even if your building super informed everyone that your neighbor's death had been ruled a suicide.

After a week without your secret admirer, you closed the curtains. ______________________________________________________________

He did his best to stay away, to not give into the temptation that was the sight of you. It was like trying to break an addiction, one that he didn’t want to get rid of but needed to. He could only imagine the havoc you would wreak on his being if he ever had the balls to approach you in person; you would utterly destroy him, ruin his heart and soul for anybody else. After a week of withdrawals that made him even more snappy and impatient at work, and cravings for your smile and light that were starting to blur in his memory, he gave in. 

He gave the building super an excuse that he had left something in the apartment and would be out in a few minutes. After grabbing the key and sprinting up the stairs to the seventh floor, he slowed down his pace, trying to get his bearings and calm his racing heart rate before it exploded out of his chest. 

Finally, he turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open, and strolled up to the window adjacent to yours. But, instead of the usual sight that greeted him, his pretty girl going about her life, he saw nothing.

You had closed the curtains.