#Dave York smut | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

punkshort · 25 days ago

Text

Back to You

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: The stars never aligned for you and Dave growing up. You never thought you'd see him again once he went to college and joined the C.I.A., but one fateful day brings him back into your life - or more specifically, your husband's life.

Warnings: language, violence, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, heavy on the possessive behavior, jealousy, infidelity, a glimmer of dark!dave but in a obsessive, madly in love kind of way, graphic domestic abuse

WC: 10.8K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Pain seared across your eyes, over the bridge of your nose and thrummed steadily against the top of your skull. The door was locked and you heard his car peel out of the driveway, but you laid curled up on the bathroom floor, body trembling in fear, still anticipating the sound of his heavy footsteps to clamber back up the stairs.

How the hell did you let it get to that point? How did you allow this to happen?

You had a bad habit of falling back into old memories whenever Mike hit you. You always wondered where you went wrong and what you could have done differently. Now? It felt like there was no escape. Even if you ran away, where would you go? He could find you anywhere. He told you that, once. And if he were just some run of the mill, blue-collar drunk, you wouldn't have believed him.

It was maybe ten years ago when he accidentally left the door to his office in the basement unlocked. You were doing laundry and saw the door was cracked, so you poked your head inside. He had told you before that it was nothing special, that it was just a quiet place for him to focus on work. He said he locked the door because the equipment on loan from his office was expensive and he couldn't risk anything happening to it. But what you saw was... not the type of equipment a man in finance would need.

Weapons were perched on the walls, sparkling clean and ready for use. You couldn't count how many computer monitors were mounted on the back wall, how many hidden cameras were placed around your home. But what drew your attention the most were the monitors that displayed a view from another house. Or, houses, as you would come to learn later.

His desk had high-tech looking equipment, tactical gear, files on men in a foreign language. Ten different cell phones were stashed away in a drawer along with countless fake passports and a whole duffel bag filled with a mix of foreign currency.

Mike was not the man he claimed to be.

And when he caught you snooping in his office, that was the first night he hurt you. Really hurt you.

You met him when you were a teenager, taken by the fact that he was a couple years older and seemingly wiser. Youth and naivety kept you from seeing who he really was. He was rough and possessive, but you thought you liked it. Before you knew it, he had proposed to you and almost fifteen years later, you were stuck in not only a loveless marriage, but a violent marriage.

And you had no way out. No means of escape.

When you finally stopped shaking, you stood to gather some ice for your face, pressing it tenderly against the bruises when the same inevitable thought crossed your mind:

Dave never would have done this.

Dave York. The boy who grew up next door to you. Who you went to school with all through high school. The boy you had a painful crush on for as long as you could remember, but who only saw you as just a good friend. Someone to hang out with over the summer. Someone to tag along with to the movies when he was bored. Someone to ride bikes with all over the neighborhood. Someone who gave you your first kiss after he convinced you to sneak out in the middle of the night but then made you swear not to tell anyone.

You had convinced yourself the kiss had meant nothing to him. Why would it, if he made you promise not to say anything? It broke your heart, but the idea of losing Dave as a friend hurt more, so you kept your mouth shut and pretended it never happened.

And you were okay with it. For a while. When you were eighteen, you met Mike, and for the first time, you had feelings for someone else other than Dave.

You were so excited to introduce them. Your closest friend meeting your first real boyfriend. But, of course, they clashed the moment they were introduced. Like two animals who sniffed each other out, they knew the other was bad news and from then on, things changed.

Mike asked that you didn't see Dave as much. It felt like being torn in two, but Dave was already applying to colleges out of state anyway, and it didn't take long until he was accepted.

Against Mike's wishes, you went to Dave's going away party. Alone. It was that day when Dave pulled you aside and confessed his feelings for you. Told you he was in love with you and begged you to come with him. Said that you had so much potential that you would just be wasting if you stayed home, with Mike. That he could take care of you.

And foolishly, you turned him down. At the time, you had convinced yourself what you had with Mike was real. He didn't try to hide you the way Dave did. He proudly had you on his arm from day one.

So, you made the biggest mistake of your life. You said no. Accused him of being jealous and ran home to Mike.

When Mike found out where you had been, he grabbed you by the throat and pushed you up against the wall. Spit obscenities in your face and told you never to lie to him again.

The next morning, he apologized. Said he had been drinking, that it would never happen again. You believed him, and he didn't do anything for another year. After that, the aggression slowly built up. It started with the verbal abuse, the accusations, and the lies. Then he grew more physical.

There wasn't one particular day when it all changed, it was a slow progression, but stumbling across his private office was certainly a bad day. The physical abuse was always linked with something big. Something big and terrible that you felt you did wrong. Over the years, that changed, too.

And now, present day, anything could set him off.

That particular evening, you had burnt the chicken for dinner, so he backhanded you across the jaw before grabbing you by the back of the neck and slamming your face into the refrigerator.

No, Dave York certainly would never have treated you that way. Your life could have been completely different had you not turned him down.

Little did you know, you would find out exactly how different soon enough.

You stared blankly at your computer, one eye still swollen but hidden pretty damn well under a thick layer of your best concealer. Thank god it was a slow day. Even if you didn't get much sleep the night before, allowing yourself to rest by pretending to work was enough to make you feel a little better.

The double espresso in your latte didn't hurt, either.

You had managed to become an expert at faking being busy at work. Zoning out was your speciality. So much so that you hardly heard the front doors of the bank swing open and shut, and only faintly heard the quiet tap of dress shoes on the tile making their way towards your general direction.

"Excuse me?"

Your body jumped at his voice, startling you out of your daydream. With your heart hammering in your chest, you narrowed your eyes at your computer, hoping to convey the look of someone deep in the middle of a very serious work issue.

"Sorry. Have a seat, I'll be right with you," you said without looking up. If you gave up your fake task too quickly, it would prove you weren't really working, so you opened up a few random files and pretended to jot down some notes, some random numbers and names, before clearing your throat and finally giving the man across from you your full attention.

Your jaw dropped. Heart plummeted to your stomach. Body rigid with shock.

It was him. It was Dave York. After fifteen years and never laying eyes on him, you could still pick him out of lineup. Those deep, brown eyes. Thick, slightly wavy hair. Chiseled jaw and angular nose. He was unmistakable.

"H-hi," you stammered, feeling your face warm instantly at your weak greeting. He just cocked his head at you, confused. Then you grew even more uncomfortable when it became clear he didn't recognize you.

You pointed meekly to your name tag, his eyes following your finger and watching as his face slowly filled with recognition.

What you had hoped would be a warm welcome turned out to only be a tight lipped smile and nod.

"Oh. Didn't realize it was you."

You waved him off and briefly looked back at your screen, unable to stand the embarrassment.

"How have you been, Dave?" you asked, pulling your focus away from your computer and back onto him. "Are you home visiting your family? Oh... it's your father's birthday next week, right?"

Something shifted behind his eyes. Something softer. Like he was taken aback but trying to hide it. Your suspicion was correct when he stumbled over his next words, the confidence and cool demeanor he strolled in with temporarily gone.

"How - you remember that?"

You nodded. "Of course, I do. How could I forget?"

The day Dave's father passed away, it was raining. Not just raining, but down pouring. Streets were flooding and everyone stayed huddled in their homes, safe and dry.

But not you.

When you heard the news, you had rushed to the abandoned tree house by the train tracks two blocks from your home. It was a safe place for you both. Whenever your parents were fighting, Dave would find you there. And when Dave's father got sick, you would find him there, too. You had scrambled up the wooden ladder, sheets of rain pelting your face, cascading down your shoulders and soaking through your thin raincoat. But when you hurried into the treehouse and found him, huddled and shaking in the corner with tears streaking down his cheeks, you forgot all about your discomfort. You rushed to him, pulled him into your arms and let him cry against your chest for an hour without saying a single word. The only noise was the distant rumble of thunder and the steady sound of harsh raindrops pelting the wooden roof.

You were both sixteen at the time.

Dave blinked and cleared his throat, shaking off the sudden warmth that filled his chest.

"No. I'm here on business."

He pulled out his badge from his suit coat and your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"C.I.A?" you said, "Wow. I mean, I thought I had heard something-"

"Need you to look up a couple accounts for me."

You clamped your mouth shut, trying to hide your dejection by looking across the lobby floor, but his icy tone and steely demeanor stung. You couldn't blame him, really, given how things ended the last time you saw each other, but you had held out hope that he had forgiven you at some point in the past fifteen years.

Seemed as though you were wrong.

"Y-yeah, sure. That - I can do that," you said, straightening up in your chair, determined to keep things purely professional, same as him. "What are the names and socials?"

He didn't even pull out a file or notepad, he had them memorized so he could keep his eyes locked on your face, studying you, watching for any glimmer of recognition or surprise when he told you the names.

"James Victor Turner."

You typed away on your keyboard, completely unphased by the name, much to his relief. He rattled off the social security number and waited a moment until you found the right person.

"Do you want me to email the account detail or something? That's usually what the feds have us do," you asked, turning back to him. He let your words hang in the air for a moment, searching your eyes for any sign of deceit. Finally, he nodded and slid his card across your desk.

"Email's on there."

Your gaze jumped from his face to the card, noting immediately his cell number was listed, as well, and suddenly the thought of having his cell phone number filled you with a deep sort of comfort you couldn't explain.

He gave you three other names, and every time he waited for a shift in your brow, a flinch in your cheek, or for your breath to quicken in alarm, but every time you remained completely indifferent and calm. He had learned how to read body and facial tells in the academy. He was very fucking good at it.

These names meant nothing to you.

Thank fuck.

"Is that all?" you asked when you emailed the last file. You thought you hid your hopefulness from your voice, that maybe he would say no, let's get a drink, let's catch up. But instead, he nodded and muttered his thanks. Then leaned to the side to slide his wallet back into his pants.

"You taking care of yourself?" he asked casually as he went to stand. "Husband treating you right?"

Now that got a reaction. Your brows tilted slightly, your gaze shifted away and you swallowed nervously. It was then he felt his blood run cold in his veins.

He was very fucking good at reading body language.

"Yeah," was all you said, then pretended to read something in your email. Dave stalled, heart beginning to thunder in his chest when he noticed. How did he miss it before?

"What happened to your eye?"

Your lips briefly pressed into a thin line before you forced a fake smile.

"I was cleaning over the weekend and something fell from the top shelf of my bathroom. Some luck, huh?"

Your tone was practiced. Disarming. He saw right through it.

"What fell?"

"Huh?" you asked.

"What fell from the shelf?" he repeated, watching as you tried to hide the panic behind your eyes. You were used to people not questioning your rehearsed excuses.

"Um, it - I think it was toothpaste."

"Toothpaste caused a shiner like that?" he pushed. He had places to be. He had to report back in less than ten minutes with his findings. But he couldn't seem to give a shit.

"It was still in the box. The corner caught me just right," you replied smoothly, pleased with your quick thinking. Dave slowly nodded, deciding to drop it and not make your day even worse.

Besides, he knew all he needed to know, anyway.

His hands fidgeted at his sides. His gaze slid around the lobby while he tried to think of something else to say. You watched him curiously.

"My number's on the card-"

"I know," you replied, cutting him off. He met your eye and you gave him a small smile. He bit the inside of his cheek and nodded tightly.

"Don't be afraid to use it."

And before you could react, he was halfway across the lobby. When he disappeared through the doors, you looked back down at his business card. Your finger traced the blue numbers indented into the card stock, the small rectangle somehow acting like a talisman. Settling your nerves, calming you.

Dave York came back to you.

An entire week went by and your thoughts rarely drifted from Dave. Every time the doors opened at work, your head snapped up, hoping to see him again. When you laid in bed at night, your husband sometimes there, sometimes not, you would lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking of him. Wondering what he was doing, where he was staying.

If he was thinking of you, too.

Friday was your anniversary. Mike had promised to be on his best behavior after feeding you apologies for his bad mood lately. It was always the same, you knew he wasn't actually sorry for what he said and did, but you smiled and forgave him all the same.

He had gotten a reservation at a French restaurant, and even though he knew French cuisine wasn't your favorite, you still tried to appreciate the gesture. You had gotten dressed up to celebrate. You wore a mauve dress with a slit up the leg and thin straps that rested delicately over your shoulders. The bruises from the weekend before had faded. Your hair actually cooperated. You were feeling rather good about yourself.

Until it became clear Mike had picked the restaurant for another reason.

His gaze shifted all over the room whenever he thought you weren't looking. He was waiting for someone, you thought. His fingers tapped mindlessly on the cloth covered table while you sipped your wine and picked at your food, doing your best to finish what he ordered for you, too scared to rock the boat.

"How long's it gonna take for you to eat?" he snapped quietly, so as not to cause a scene. You looked up in surprise, poised to answer, when you froze. Over his right shoulder at the bar sat Dave York, nursing a short glass of amber liquid. And his eyes were pinned directly on you.

Mike must not have liked how you took an extra moment to answer because his arm shot out to grab your wrist, fingertips going white from the pressure he was applying. You hissed, attention refocused on him and his hand, as you tried to squirm out of his grip. In the corner of your eye, you saw Dave stand, but he didn't make a move towards your table.

"I did something nice for you and you can't be bothered to pay me any attention? On our anniversary?" he seethed. You wanted to tell him his attention had been elsewhere the entire night, that you weren't stupid and you knew something else was going on, but you bit your tongue. As usual.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, giving your arm one quick yank backwards, pulling away from his grasp. "I'm just not that hungry. My stomach hurts."

"Which is it? Not hungry or your stomach hurts?"

You rubbed your wrist under the table and looked into his eyes. You saw the anger bubbling up, just under the surface, and you knew then and there how the rest of the evening was going to go.

"Both," you shot back with a clipped tone.

His eyes widened and he leaned forward, no doubt about to unleash every horrid threat he could think of under his breath when he spotted something or someone behind you. Whoever he was waiting for all evening finally showed up.

Mike stood from the table and buttoned his suit coat.

"I'll be right back. Just saw an old golfing buddy." Then he pinched your chin between his thumb and forefinger, flexing the digits harshly into your skin, making you wince. "I suggest you finish your food. We're leaving when I get back."

Then he was gone.

Your chest heaved and you took a shaky sip from your glass, looking to calm your nerves. Your eyes darted back towards the bar, but Dave was no where to be seen. Your heart sank. Just as you were resigning yourself to another evening of being on the receiving end of Mike's anger, you felt a gentle brush against your arm.

"Bathroom," Dave muttered as he walked past, heading towards the back of the restaurant.

You didn't even think. You tossed your napkin onto the table, standing up so fast you nearly knocked over your chair to hurry after him. The restrooms were down a short hallway and around a corner. Soft, classical music drifted from the speakers above you, the only other sound besides the click of your heels against the hardwood floors. When you turned the corner, Dave's arm immediately shot out to wrap around your waist, pulling you quickly out of view of the dining room.

He had swiveled you around so your back was against the wall, just past the two doors leading into the restrooms. If anyone exited the bathrooms, they would see Dave's body caging you in, clear as day.

The thought made your pulse thrum steadily in your throat.

"You need to promise me something."

Dave's voice was urgent. Like he was pressed for time.

"Huh?" you asked dreamily, lost for a moment in the warmth rolling from his body and the cloud of his cologne, engulfing you.

He opened his mouth to speak, then annoyance flickered across his face. He yanked out a nearly invisible earpiece, letting it dangle over his collar, and your eyes widened.

"A-are you... working?"

"Promise me," Dave said, grabbing you by the arms and ignoring your question, "that tomorrow night, you won't be home. You need to go out in public. Preferably with friends or family."

"What? Why?" you asked fearfully. You were snapping out of the spell he had managed to put you under. Lust was being replaced with alarm. The hairs on the back of your neck were rising.

"And use a credit card once or twice," he continued, staring deep into your eyes. "Can you do that? Hm?"

Slowly, you found yourself nodding. You had a million questions but you didn't bother to ask - he wasn't going to answer them anyway.

"Good," he breathed, looking visibly relieved. His shoulders relaxed and he let his hands drop from your upper arms to your wrists. His eyes flickered down to where Mike had grabbed you, light blue circles already developing before your very eyes. Dave's jaw twitched. "Good girl," he murmured, dragging his thumb over one of the marks. Your breath stuttered and your knees went weak, the energy between you dissolving back into something else. Something hungrier.

When his eyes met yours again, you could tell he felt it, too.

You were certain you moved at the same time. You pushed off the wall and titled your chin up just as he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around your waist. Your lips met for the first time in almost twenty years and just like that, you felt transported back in time. Anybody could have come down that hall and seen you, including your husband, but in that brief moment, you were safe inside your treehouse again. You were in the arms of the man who had been there since the beginning. Who knew you better than your own husband.

"He won't come home tonight," Dave whispered once he tore himself away. But he didn't go far. His hand had risen to cup your cheek and his forehead pressed gently against yours as he spoke. "Keep yourself safe. Go home, lock the doors, don't leave until tomorrow."

"Okay," you replied shakily, hands coming to lay flat against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding just underneath.

"Tell me what you're going to do tomorrow," he demanded firmly.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'm going to go out with my friends. Somewhere public. And I'll use my credit card."

"Good," he breathed before kissing the tip of your nose. "When it's safe, I'll come get you."

"How?" you asked, gazing up into his dark brown eyes. They looked just as you remembered them. No longer were they cold and distant. Now, they were soft and warm and kind.

"I'll find you."

It was all he managed to say before you had to spring apart, the echo of footsteps tapping down the hall interrupting your moment. He turned away and pulled out his phone, pressing it against his ear as if he were taking a call. You ran your thumb under your lip, hoping to fix any smudges, and forced your feet to move past the other restaurant patron rounding the corner, back into the dining room. Away from Dave.

Even though there was definitely danger swirling somewhere around you, you knew you were safe, because Dave would be watching.

You didn't have many friends. Mike purposely made that difficult for you. But you did manage to have two friends from work who you occasionally went to dinner with or saw a movie together. So that was what you did. The three of you got dinner, where you used your credit card to pay, and then walked around the mall. One of your friends had a wedding coming up, so she dragged you from store to store as she hunted for the perfect dress. At one point towards the end of the night, you bought a tea with your card, claiming you felt a sore throat coming on.

Obsessively, you checked your phone. For what, you weren't exactly sure. Maybe a call from Mike, or something from Dave. You didn't give him your number but you had a feeling he had ways of finding that out for himself. But all evening, your phone remained silent. No texts. No calls. No news alerts. Nothing.

You dragged the night out as long as you could, but eventually your friends wanted to go home.

In the dark parking lot, you waved goodbye before turning in the direction of your parked car. It was almost eleven. That had to be enough time, right? Whatever it was Dave was trying to protect you from had to be over by then.

You fumbled for your keys in the dark, pulling them out of your purse nervously as you approached your car. You were all alone in that corner of the lot, but of course one sleek, black car had chosen to park right next to you.

You tried to keep your breathing steady as you approached, but right when you were a couple feet away from your bumper, the door to the black car swung open, startling you.

"It's me," a familiar, deep voice said. Then Dave stepped out of the car dressed in all black and your shoulders sagged.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, dragging in a ragged breath before leaning against your car. "You scared me."

Then you noticed a strange man unfurl himself from the passenger seat and you stiffened.

"It's alright," Dave assured you, glancing back at the other man for a moment. "This is Kovac. He's gonna drive your car to the hotel."

You furrowed your brow and clutched your keys to your chest.

"Why? Why can't I drive?"

Dave sighed as Kovac casually leaned against the trunk of your car and lit a cigarette.

"Because... I would prefer you drive with me. Just being extra cautious."

You considered it for a moment, looking around the empty parking lot as you shifted your weight from foot to foot until finally you relented and handed over your keys.

"I'll take good care of her," Kovac promised you, stubbing out his cigarette before unlocking your door and sliding into the driver's seat.

Dave rounded the front of his car and opened the passenger door for you. When you passed him, the scent of sweat and gunpowder flooded your senses. You slipped silently into the seat and he gently shut the door.

The hotel Dave took you to was not far away from the mall. You watched in the sideview mirror as Kovac tailed you both in your SUV.

"Don't you have any questions?" Dave finally asked, breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, his breathtaking side profile illuminated by the streetlights.

"I have probably a thousand."

"So... are you going to ask?"

You shook your head. "No. You wouldn't tell me, anyway."

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement as he safely pulled into the hotel parking lot.

Kovac picked the spot directly next to Dave's car, turning off your SUV and joining the two of you in front of Dave's bumper.

"All set," he said, dropping the keys into Dave's palm.

Dave nodded and gave a subtle tilt of his chin towards another car parked a few spaces down. The headlights turned on and Kovac slipped into the front seat without another word or glance in your direction.

You looked up at the unassuming hotel as Dave led you into the lobby. It was middle of the road, average at best, affordable but not trashy. For some reason, you imagined Dave picking somewhere much swankier.

Dave immediately ushered you past the front desk and towards the rowdy sports bar just off the main entrance. He found a small, open spot against the bar and held out his hand.

"Give me the credit card you used earlier."

Without even questioning it, you handed it over. He bought your favorite drink and two shots of tequila, then handed it back to you. You smirked and pocketed it before taking the glass from him.

"How did you know my favorite drink?"

He shrugged and tossed back one of the shots. "Part of the job."

You took a sip from your glass, trying to hide your smile to no avail.

"I have to admit," you said, glancing around the crowded room. "This isn't the type of hotel I would have expected you to pick."

"No, it's not. But it's the type of hotel you would pick," he countered, fingers wrapping around the second shot of tequila. Your brows knit together in confusion while you watched him toss back the second shot. "C'mon. You don't have to finish that. Let's get you a room."

Your face fell, hoping he would have invited you to stay with him, but you quickly recovered. It had been so long since you had seen each other, and you were married, for fuckssake.

Not that it stopped him from kissing you in the restaurant the night before, but still.

Dave signaled for your card again when the receptionist was booking your room and you quickly handed it over. You rolled your head back and forth, working out the kinks in your neck while you waited. When she slid a piece of paper across the counter for you to sign, you did so as fast as possible. Dave's eyes lingered on your married name when the paper passed in front of him and he pursed his lips.

"Here's your key. Floor seven. Take a left when you get off the elevators and your room is around the bend," the receptionist said cheerily. You nodded your thanks and tucked away your card and receipt while you followed Dave to the elevators.

When you stepped into the car, Dave pressed the button for floor nine. You reached forward to press seven and he stopped you.

"The room's just part of the paper trail."

It took you a moment, but you caught up. Using your credit card at dinner, being with witnesses in a public setting, using your card at the bar and then again at the front desk. He was creating a rock solid alibi for whatever happened that night.

"Oh," you said softly, allowing your hand to drop back against your side.

Then, for the first time, Dave looked uncomfortable.

"Unless, of course, you want -"

"No," you said, cutting him off. "No, I want to be with you."

His eyes lit up but his mouth remained in a straight line.

"Okay, then."

You grinned and leaned next to him against the wall of the elevator, watching the little red numbers on the screen tick up, up, up, until it read nine.

"After you," Dave said, holding open the doors and ushering you out. You gave him a shy smile and stepped forward, then waited for him to lead the way. The entire walk down the hall felt like a fever dream. Your heart was pounding loudly in your ears with each muffled step against the worn out carpet. It was quiet, but when you passed by the other rooms, you could hear televisions playing or people laughing, completely oblivious to whatever it is you were about to do.

Dave tapped his plastic keycard against the sensor, the little light flashing from red to green with a loud click. When you entered his room, it was exactly like you had expected. Suits and shirts hanging carefully in the small, open closet by the bathroom. Suitcase laid out on the floor with his belongings neatly packed inside, not a single item out of place.

He flicked on another light and the lamps next to his king sized bed came to life, casting the deep green comforter and patterned rug in a warm glow.

That moment could have been awkward if you had given yourself a chance to take everything in, but your body moved faster than your mind. You swirled around and looped your arms around Dave's neck, pulling him down to your level, eager to feel the softness of his lips against your own again. And when his mouth crashed hungrily against yours, all of your questions and insecurities drifted away.

It should have felt wrong, being in the arms of a man that wasn't your husband, but not one shred of guilt entered your body. How could it, when his hands on your waist and his tongue slipping past your lips felt so good?

"Tell me you want me," Dave rasped in between feverish kisses. You took a step backwards towards the bed and he eagerly chased after you.

"You know I do," you whispered, head in a fog. His lips had dragged down to your chin, nipping there gently so as to give you a chance to speak. But words were hard to come by whenever you were in his orbit.

His fingers gripped your waist a little harder when he pulled away to look into your eyes.

"I need to hear it."

You slowly blinked up at him, both your chests rising and falling faster than a moment ago.

"I want you."

Dave swallowed and a muscle in his jaw jumped.

"More than him?"

Your knees went weak when you heard the possessive tone in his voice.

"Yes," you told him. He was already pushing you onto the bed, his mouth inches away from colliding with yours when you added, "I've always wanted you more than him."

He groaned into your mouth, a deep rumble you could feel in your own chest when you were trapped between the weight of him and the old mattress. You could taste the tequila on his tongue as he licked into your mouth with an urgency you didn't expect from a man who appeared so put together, and the thought of being the one to unravel him, to make him a little messier, thrilled you.

You whined impatiently when Dave pulled away from the kiss and shuffled back onto his knees.

"Need to see you," he mumbled, shaky fingers already working on the button of your jeans. You eagerly lifted your hips so he could strip them off with a grunt, then tossed your arms above your head when he pushed up the hem of your shirt.

His hands kept working, plucking at your underwear and bra, but he couldn't hold himself back from kissing you any longer, his tongue invading your mouth once again. The feel of his kiss grew more and more familiar with each passing second. You felt your bra come loose around your shoulders and middle, so you subtly shimmied underneath him, freeing yourself of the offensive fabric and letting it fall to the floor. His palm was on you in an instant, feeling the weight of your breast in his hand and rolling your nipple between his fingers before his eyes even had a chance to open and drink you in.

"You know how long I've been thinking about this?" he asked when your head tipped back towards the headboard, lungs filling with fresh air. His lips slowly dragged down the column of your throat, tongue flicking out occasionally to taste your skin. "Twenty years," he said, not waiting for you to answer. Your back arched and your fingers raised to get tangled in his hair. Nobody had ever spoken to you or touched you the way he did. It was intoxicating to be an object of his worship and desire. A small voice in the back of your mind wondered how you would be able to go back to your miserable life after that night, how you would be able to go on after experiencing Dave's lavish adoration like he didn't tilt your world on it's axis.

"You ever think about me?" he asked. His voice sounded a little sheepish, like he was trying to hide it, but you picked up on it. You lifted your hips when he slid your underwear down your legs with one hand and you said, "Yes. All the time. Especially-"

You cut yourself off with a bite to your lower lip. Dave's hands, which were in the process of caressing every soft curve of your now bare body, froze. His eyes met yours once again, searching them before he asked, "What?"

You shook your head and tried to pull him in for another kiss, but he resisted. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and his brows furrowed. He didn't like the idea of you holding something back. Not now. Not when he finally had you, after so long. He wanted all of you, the good and the bad.

"Tell me," he urged. He needed to know.

You sighed and averted your gaze. "Especially... on really bad days. Those days I stay up at night, waiting for the pain to go away, and I think about you. How you would never lay a finger on me like that."

His jaw tensed. Anger boiled hot through his veins at the thought of you cowering in your bed or bathroom, in pain and crying and thinking about him.

"Look at me," he said through clenched teeth. You took a deep breath and did what he asked, gazing up at him with watery eyes, trying your best to put on a brave face. "That will never happen again, do you understand? He will never hurt you again. It's over."

You gave him a weak smile and shook your head.

"He won't let me leave. I've tried, believe me, but-"

"You're not listening to me, sweetheart," Dave said, pinching your chin and holding your gaze, trying to do his best to convey his message without implicating you. "You're safe. It's over."

You opened your mouth to argue back and then you paused. You scanned his face and he watched you try to mentally connect the dots. What did that mean? Was Mike arrested?

"Do you understand?" he whispered softly. Slowly, you nodded, and his mouth pulled into a smile. "Good. Now-" Dave unzipped his coat and tossed it on top of your abandoned pile of clothes. He rolled on top of you, caging you in for one quick, heated kiss that took your breath away. When he pulled back, he had a playful look in his eye. It made you smile, your anguish quickly sweeping back into the furthest recesses of your mind. "Let me give you a better reason to think about me."

When he began to move down the bed so he could settle his broad shoulders between your legs, a bolt of anxiety shot through you. You leaned up on your elbows, eyes all wide and nervous, watching as he got comfortable. His hands wrapped firmly but tenderly around your thighs, grip strong so he could fight your instinct to clamp your legs shut.

"W-what are you doing?"

Dave looked up at you with surprise. His eyes flickered between your face and your glistening center, then back again.

"Do you not want me to?"

Your heart was racing so fast, you felt like you were floating. Having a man go down on you was certainly not something you were used to, but if you gave yourself any time at all to think, you would have realized Dave was the type of man willing to give you everything and anything you could ever want or need, including something selfless like that. Something just to make you feel good.

"I-I don't know. It's been a while..." you trailed off, cheeks warming with embarrassment. "It's not exactly something Mi-"

"Stop."

Your mouth snapped shut, wilting under the steely look in his eye.

"Don't say his name," Dave said gently, realizing he might have been a bit too harsh at first. You nodded, understanding, but remained silent. He took a steadying breath and started over. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do. But if being shy is the reason you don't want this, I won't accept that."

He looked up at you from between your legs, gaze heated as he tilted his chin slightly to brush his lips over the inside of your thigh. He maintained eye contact, watching you shudder from the sensation of his five o'clock shadow scraping your sensitive skin.

"What's it gonna be, baby?" he asked before doing the same to your other thigh. You gasped quietly and then swallowed before letting your legs fall open. Dave smirked.

"I want it."

Your voice was soft and meek. He wanted you to feel in control. He wanted you to know just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

"Louder."

You dropped your chin to your chest, lips parted with anticipation as you watched his mouth hover over your mound. You could feel the heat from his exhale fan over you, making your cunt pulse around nothing.

"I want it," you said, voice firm, just as he asked. "I want you to make me feel good, Dave."

One corner of his mouth lifted and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yes, ma'am."

Your eyes instantly rolled to the back of your head when he dragged his tongue through your folds for the first time. Fingers thread through Dave's dark hair as he licked at you again. Over and over and over until your head fell back and you collapsed into the plush pillow.

"Oh - fuck, Dave, that's -" you cut yourself off with a moan, head lolling to the side and eyes sliding shut. It felt too good. He was too good. His warm, strong tongue licked into you messily, flooding your body with rolling waves of pleasure you had never experienced before. Your muscles were limp, pliant and soft under his hands and mouth, allowing him to take and take as much as he wanted.

And he did.

You were helpless against him, helpless against the way he feasted between your legs, entirely at his mercy. Shaky fingers grappled for leverage in his hair but it was half-hearted, at best. Dave had reduced you to a whimpering puddle with every greedy lap of his tongue, and he loved it. He loved how soft you were for him, loved hearing sweet little moans filter past your lips. It was every one of his twenty years worth of wildest fantasies come true, and he couldn't be stopped.

When he pressed your thighs into your chest, tilting your hips to give him even better access to your cunt, you gasped his name. The sound made his cock throb painfully, still trapped behind too many layers of clothes. He rut his hips pathetically against the mattress, seeking just a sliver of relief as he continued to lick and kiss and bite at your folds. The roof could have been ripped off the building and he wouldn't have stopped. He was determined to memorize and map out every inch of you, draw out every possible sound and swallow every drop of your arousal. He wanted to smell you on him for days. He wanted his jaw to ache. Every time he closed his eyes, he wanted to see you writhing around in ecstasy underneath him.

He felt insane. Never in his life had he felt so wild and careless, but decades of being denied the only thing he ever truly wanted made him a madman.

"Dave," you moaned, back arching and collapsing repeatedly off the mattress. He peered up at you, tongue still swirling steadily over your clit, lips still suckling and teeth grazing your delicate skin in the same delicious pattern, not sacrificing an ounce of your pleasure when he dragged his focus to your scrunched up face.

Your eyes, wild and dark, found his. His name fell from your lips like a song as you watched his mouth eat at you with skilled precision. The sight of him like that between your legs, all wrecked and crazed and hungry, was the final push you needed.

Your orgasm forced you upright, sitting with your legs bent and spread. You could see Dave so much clearer that way, watching every purse of his lips and flick of his tongue as he guided you through it. One of your hands raked through his hair, holding him against you so you could grind against his mouth while the other supported your weight somewhere behind you.

With one last drawn out moan, your head tipped back and your eyes slipped shut. Your mouth hung open, pulling in deep gulps of air. A shudder ran through your body and your arm began to shake. Dave was still dutifully cleaning up the mess between your legs, but his licks were softer, gentler, as he worked.

"Oh, my god," you breathed, collapsing back into the bed. Your heart was racing in your chest, skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and your mind was blissfully blank. It wasn't until Dave withdrew himself from between your legs that you opened your eyes. The loss of his body heat made you shiver, and suddenly you felt painfully exposed. You weakly pulled at the bedspread, looking to cover yourself up, when he stopped you.

"Don't."

Your hand instantly released the comforter and you rolled your head to look at him. He had been removing his shirt when you were busy trying to cover yourself up. Your breath quickened and you forgot all about your earlier shyness when you drank in his bare upper half for the first time. Your mouth went dry and jaw went slack at the sight of his muscular, wide shoulders and chest, leading down to a soft but toned stomach. Dave smirked, flinging his belt off before working on the zipper of his pants.

You were out of your element. On one hand you could count how many times Mike made you come in the past fifteen years. You were bone tired and legs still shaky from the way Dave had torn you apart just minutes earlier, unsure if you had it in you to go again. But when he dropped his pants and boxers, revealing his thick, rock hard erection, you felt a second wave of energy hit.

"Shit," you whispered, scrambling to your knees on the bed. Dave's dark eyes skated up and down your naked body, cock twitching when he saw the wetness between your legs glisten as you shifted down the bed on your knees, towards him.

Your soft palms dragged down the sharp planes of his chest, your eyes wide and reverent, studying every inch of his skin. He held his breath, tight muscles twitching under your delicate touch. He flexed his hands at his sides, eyes boring into you, giving you all the time you needed to take him in.

"You've grown up, Dave York."

He chuckled, releasing a nervous breath. It was growing increasingly difficult not to touch you.

"A lot's changed since the treehouse," he murmured. Your eyes flickered up to his, hands still drifting slowly down his stomach.

"You remember."

He brought one hand up to cup your cheek. You leaned into his touch, your fingers stalling right above where he wanted you the most. Your fingertips grazed the coarse hairs there and he thought he might die if you didn't touch him soon.

"Of course I remember."

You closed what little distance remained, capturing his lower lip between your own. You could taste your release on his mouth, surprising yourself when you weren't repulsed by the flavor. You had a feeling it had something to do with the man it was connected to. The idea of Dave smelling like you awakened some primal urge deep inside, like you craved to mark him somehow.

You slid your hand down the rest of the way, fingers wrapping around the base of his cock. He pulled in a sharp breath against your lips, then groaned when your wrist slowly started to work him, up and down.

Dave cursed under his breath when your thumb swept across his slit, collecting the sticky bead of wetness pooling there. He kissed you deeper, tongue swirling frantically inside your mouth, his hips jolting forward, chasing your touch.

"I want you," he murmured, voice a little strained. He gripped the side of your face so tightly, like he was afraid to let you go. You bloomed with pride when you heard his breath stutter and you grinned before dropping your mouth to taste the skin covering his pulse point. It fluttered wildly under your tongue, the rhythm giving away his true feelings in that moment. He more than wanted you. He needed you.

"You have me," you said, lips trailing down his throat. "I'm all yours."

Desperate hands grabbed at your hip and the back of your head, laying you down flat under him with your lips still latched to his neck and your fist still pumping his cock. Once he settled between your legs, it was as if you moved as one: your hand paused, lining him up at your entrance, and a moment later he grabbed that same wrist, pinning it above your head at the exact same time he buried himself inside you with one deep thrust.

"Oh!" you cried out, the sudden stretch stealing your breath. Your head dropped back, abandoning the mark you left on his throat. It was hard to think, hard to speak, hard to do anything except focus on the way he opened you up, carving a spot for himself inside of you.

"It's okay, I got you," he gasped. It was the first time you realized he was just as much of a wreck as you. His mouth hung open, face buried in the crook of your shoulder, struggling to catch his breath. He still held your arm firmly above your head, pressing your wrist into the plush comforter. After a minute, once you both managed to clear your heads, his grip loosened. But instead of letting you go, he slid his palm up to press into yours, fingers lacing together lovingly when you tilted your chin and slotted your lips together once again.

The weight of him on top of you was stifling, the wide stretch of your hips to accommodate his broad torso already pulling your muscles, but it felt so good. With your free hand, you carded your fingers through his hair, deepening the kiss by slipping your tongue past his lips. There was nowhere else you'd rather be than pinned under Dave York's hulking frame, cocooned and protected by his strong body. You wanted him to possess you in every way imaginable, tangle and weave himself through every fiber of your being.

When he started to move, he was so much gentler than you imagined him to be. He took his time, feeding you his cock inch by inch, slowly dragging his hips back just to push back inside at the same excruciating pace. Your fingers squeezed around his with each thrust, tongues still tangled together, sharing soft sighs and gasps each time he moved.

"Good?" he whispered, breaking away and pressing your foreheads together. Your skin was growing dewy, sweat forming where your bodies touched.

"Yeah," you whispered back. His eyelids fluttered when you rocked your hips up to meet his. "You won't break me, you know," you teased. He grinned but still maintained the same pace, making you gasp when he shifted and brushed against a sensitive spot no one had ever reached before.

"I know. Just - don't want to rush it. Been thinking about this for too damn long." He nibbled playfully at your chin before finally releasing the hand above your head. He cupped the back of your thigh, lifting your leg so it hooked over his lower back, burying himself even further inside your tight cunt. You moaned his name, brows knitting together and face flushing with arousal and maybe a little bit of embarrassment when you whined in his ear, "So deep. You're so fucking deep."

There were times in the past twenty years where Dave thought he might be deranged. The way he could never let you go, never get you out of his mind, bordered on obsessive. Time didn't dampen it, like he thought it would. Distance, either. Not a single day passed where you didn't cross his mind and he wondered what the hell was wrong with him. When your husband's name crossed his desk, his next target, with your name next to it posed as a question, he didn't sleep for three days. Panic seized his entire body, morning and night. If you were guilty, if you were privy to anything your husband did - or, god forbid - assisted him with any of his dealings, he knew he wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. Yet he still came back home, because he couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you again. The relief he felt when he confirmed you were clueless, that you were pushed into the darkness by your husband's cruel hand, was unmatched. It might have been the only good deed that bastard ever did for you.

And then the obsession grew ten-fold. Because he knew finally, when his work was done, he would get to have you.

Mania took hold of his mind. The question did he ever fuck you like this? Did he ever make you feel this good? This loved? sat on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to know. He wanted to hear you say he was the best you'd ever had. But he didn't, because that fucking asshole's name had no place in that room. He didn't want to invite him into the sacred place where Dave was buried deep inside you, showing you all the ways he loved you without saying the words.

"You like it like this, baby?" he asked instead. "You like it nice and slow?"

"Yes," you whimpered. Your fingers tugged harshly at his hair when he brushed against that spot again and it made him groan. "Fuck - whatever you're doing, keep doing it," you said, mouthing at his cheek. Your lips burned from the sharp hairs that were already beginning to grow back across his jaw. He rolled his hips again, pulling another broken moan from the back of your throat, slowly fanning the flames of the warmth blooming in your belly. He could feel you pulsing around his cock, pulling him in as your orgasm began to steadily build. He cupped one of your breasts, clamping his mouth around your nipple, allowing his teeth to gently graze the sensitive skin, all in an effort to heighten your pleasure. Based on the way your back arched and you cried out his name, it sounded like he was pretty damn successful.

"You feel so good," he panted, breath coming quick and short. He could feel himself slipping. "So good. So beautiful - fuck," he said with a groan. Your fingers found his shoulder, nails digging into his skin.

It was so hot. Your hair was sticking to the back of your neck. You could feel drops of sweat sliding down the sides of your head. Dave was fucking everywhere. His entire body caged you in, his mouth alternated licking and sucking at your breasts, cock buried further than any man ever had. His hand held your ass, pulling you tight against him, helping you rock your hips in rhythm with his.

And then you felt it. Something deep inside, a pressure that climbed up the base of your spine that had you going rigid and you gasped.

"Oh, my god, Dave - I'm... I'm gonna-"

"Give it to me," he growled, mouth abandoning your sore breasts so he could see you. He wanted to watch. He needed to see the look on your face when you came again. He fantasized about what you'd look like coming on his cock for so long and he was finally going to witness it.

"Right there," you whined, then tipped your head back with a loud moan. He ground his hips against your clit, a grunt rumbling from the back of his throat when your soft cunt clenched down around him.

His dark eyes fixed on yours, feeling his own orgasm creeping up when you screamed out his name and fell apart. He locked his jaw, fighting it, determined to wait until your release swept through you. Your nails dug into his skin, legs pulling tight around his waist. You cried out until your voice cracked and his cock swelled inside you at the sound.

Your release coated his hips and the thick patch of hair that continued to rub against your clit. He looked down, jaw going slack at the wetness that smeared across you both, then moaned your name when your cunt squeezed him again. His head snapped up in surprise to find another orgasm rolling through you.

"Oh, shit," he chuckled, mesmerized. You writhed weakly underneath him, chest heaving with your eyes closed and mouth hung open in a silent moan, too tired and spent to find your voice. You were so soft and warm and fucking soaked, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He scooped you off the bed and into his lap, pressing you against his chest, burying his face in your neck and groaning your name into your skin. His body stilled, breathing a deep sigh of relief when his cock throbbed, spilling thick ropes of his seed deep within your walls.

Dave held you close, each of you panting desperately for air. A shiver ran down his spine and another burst of spend flooded your used cunt. He felt dizzy and out of control, the force of his orgasm taking him by surprise. But he should have known it would have been that good with you.

Your lips brushed lazily against his collarbone, a whisper of his name in-between kisses and he closed his eyes. A wave of peace washed over him: he had everything he could ever want. At last, he could rest.

"We should clean up," he murmured into your hair. You made a whine of protest and he smiled. "You made a mess, sweetheart. We'll be quick, I promise."

If you were embarrassed, you didn't show it. You tilted your chin up, head resting against his shoulder and tired eyes finding his.

"My biggest regret in life was not going with you that night."

Dave wrapped his arms around you tighter, emotion swelling in his chest. I love you, I never stopped loving you.

"I should've fought harder for you. Should've made you mine that night we kissed."

You gave him a sad smile and traced his bottom lip with your fingertip. "Guess we made up for it today, huh?"

"Oh, I plan on making it up to you for a long time," he said, hissing when he flexed his hips and slid out of your warm clutch.

He led you to the shower, let you lean against the wall while he gently cleaned you up. He shampooed your hair with the little bottle that was left next to the sink, thick fingers carefully scrubbing your scalp. You moaned and tipped your head back against his chest, closing your eyes while the warm water cascaded down over both your shoulders.

When his hand fell to clean between your legs, he pressed one finger inside. You tensed and made a little sound, wiggling in his arms as he shushed you. He kissed the shell of your ear and whispered, keep all that in there for me, okay?

"I'm on birth control," you said, wincing when he withdrew his finger.

"So?" was all he said. Then you understood. He wanted to claim you, the same way you wanted to mark him. It made your face flood with warmth.

That night, Dave took care of you. He got you fed and he made sure you weren't in any pain or discomfort. He fluffed your pillows, dried your hair with a towel, and rubbed your sore hips after he slipped into bed beside you.

When you drifted off to sleep, with Dave's strong, protective arm draped over your middle, you dreamt of a boy with dark brown eyes who promised to take you away from all your pain, to save you and care for you until your last breath.

Sunlight beamed through a crack in the shades, landing right over your eyes and stirring you out of the deepest sleep you ever had. It was no wonder, because when you opened your eyes and took in your surroundings, you found yourself still tangled up with Dave. His arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your neck. Your leg wedged between his own. The thought of having to move whatsoever was cruel, but you had to use the bathroom. Somehow, you slowly managed to extract yourself from Dave's hold with not so much as a change in his breathing pattern.

After you used the bathroom, you hurried back to bed, snatching your phone from the table along the way. You slotted yourself beside him and instinctually, his arms reached over to envelope you once again. It was pure bliss.

You tapped your phone to check the time and your face fell.

38 missed calls. Countless text messages from family members.

Your heart lurched into your throat and with shaky hands, you opened the notifications. There were several voicemails but you chose to call your mother in law first, as she was the one who was responsible for half of the calls.

"Oh Jesus Christ, finally!" you heard her sob when she picked up the phone. You swallowed and sat up in bed, Dave's arms dropping to your waist.

"H-hey, what's going on? Is everything-"

"Didn't you hear my voicemails?" she shrieked. You winced and heard some other voices in the background telling her to calm down.

"No, I just woke up and saw - just tell me what's going on," you said, voice shaking. Dave began to stir next to you.

"He's dead!" she cried, then began to wail nonsense while your vision narrowed and your ears began to ring.

"Hey, honey, it's Ricky," your father in law's voice said from the other end.

"Who's d-dead? W-what is she talking about?"

Dave propped himself up on his elbow, blinking away the sleep from his eyes so he could watch you.

"Mikey's dead, honey. I'm - I'm so sorry," you heard him sniffle and continue to tell you something about a car accident but you couldn't retain any of the details. Dave sat up in bed next to you and pressed a kiss against your shoulder, but you continued to stare blankly at the wall.

"Where are you? Are you home?" he finally asked, shaking you out of your stupor.

"Tell them where you are," Dave's voice whispered so only you could hear. You looked over at him now, panic etched across your face only to find his remained perfectly calm.

"I-I'm at the Hyatt," you stammered. Dave nodded his approval and gave your shoulder another kiss.

"The - what? Why?"

"Tell them you had too much to drink with your friends and you didn't feel safe driving."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a deep breath.

"I was out with friends and I had one too many at the hotel bar," you began, licking your lips nervously, "I got a room, I didn't want to drive."

"Good girl."

You listened to your father in law drone on for another five minutes about the police stopping by later and how you really should be there, and you nodded numbly, unable to say much else.

When you hung up, adrenaline still buzzing through your veins and your heart thumping loudly in your chest, you slowly turned to Dave.

He looked at you expectantly, waiting for the inevitable question. But as he stared into your eyes, he watched the fear melt into acceptance, and then calmness blended into what he was ultimately waiting for, what you deserved to feel after years of abuse - relief.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, his own heart rate spiking. He saved you. He did what he had to do and saved you, but he still worried you harbored some old feelings for Mike. He braced for revulsion. A look of horror.

"I'm thinking... I want pancakes for breakfast," you said with a small smile.

Dave thought he might collapse from relief. He took your hand and brought it up to his mouth, brushing his lips over your knuckles and making your smile widen.

"Pancakes it is."

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#dave york #dave york smut #equalizer 2 #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 fanfic

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taeslarityy · 4 months ago

Text

dirty laundry ༄ dave york one shot (18+)

-> pairing: dark dave york x female reader

-> word count: 2.8k

-> summary: it’s a hot august week at the york’s lake house, which also happens to be the week you and your husband got married one year ago. your father in law — dave york — finds you changing in the laundry room and decides to give you a celebration of his own.

-> warnings/tags: father-in-law dave york, infidelity, dubcon, NON-CON, age gap (reader is 21, dave is nearing 50), SMUT 18+, heavy degradation(whore, slut, bitch), humiliation, dumbification, unprotected piv, sir kink, rough face-fucking, forced creampie, talk of pregnancy, reader is under the impression that she endures forced impregnation, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, semi naive reader, dave is not a cutesy nice man in this.. he honestly has no concern for readers feelings or pleasure. so please, if themes like dubious consent + non-con + blatant cheating are not ur forte, protect ur peace and scroll away!!

-> a/n: okay okay hiiiii. when i decided to participate in @hellishjoel ‘s #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i had a few ideas in mind. one happened to be this! but i felt more comfortable writing for joel and was confident in what i had planned. basically, this is opposite of that. no fluff or happy ending.. or even happy anything. so i wanted to share! thanks again kylee for letting me participate <3 and thank you to my beloved dearest @sweetpascal for aiding me yet again, i love u 🤍

let me know your thoughts!

DARK CONTENT BELOW: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

A huge part of growth, means acknowledging your mistakes.

When you failed your first semester of college, you knew it was from lack of trying and partying six days a week. So, you studied more and partied four days a week instead. When you slammed your brand new Mercedes into a flag pole, you knew it was from scrolling on Instagram which caused you to push accelerate rather than stop. So, you never went on your phone while driving again.

When you fell in love your sophomore year and decided to get married at twenty, you knew it was because you needed the well-off grad school bachelor, Daniel York. So, inadvertently, you settled. Now, a year later, you're sobbing in his family’s lake house bathroom because he somehow forgot that tonight was the eve of your wedding anniversary.

You feel like a complete and utter idiot. And for once in your life, you just might be. Staring at your reflection, you examine your appearance. You look effortlessly amazing today, after spending the day out on the boat. Hair, body and face all faintly sun-kissed. Your skin freshly shaved, legs and arms lathered in your favorite oil.

This was your final attempt to see if Daniel would stare at you with the same look of admiration he had so long ago. Your first attempt to ask him about starting your own family. Tonight was the night, and you were determined.

Briefly peeking out of the guest bathroom and down the hall, you decide you can rush into the laundry room only a few doors down. Everyone should seemly be downstairs, finishing up a game of Monopoly. You had the pleasure of winning two games in a row, pissing of the frightfully competitive York family. That’s when you decided to call it a night and head up to get ready for bed — bidding everyone a goodbye as you kissed your husband atop his head.

Wrapping your robe securely around your waist, you make your way towards the closed door and enter just as the dryer sings the most obnoxious 45 second tune that confirms the load is finished. Rich people shit, you mutter to yourself. Grabbing your bikini and sundress to hang up first, then laying out a sheer white silk sleeping dress with baby blue lace trim.

Looking back at the closed door, you conclude you should be fine to just throw it on before laying yourself out on your shared bed. Ready for your husband to see you so open and willing to be used by him. As your robe falls to your feet, a slight creek fills the silent space.

Whipping your head back and grabbing the nearest towel to cover yourself, you're met with an alluring glare from your husbands own dad. Your father-in-law, Dave York.

"Dave wha- what are you doing?" You question with a panic laced tone. Completely thrown off by the way he's leaning against the now locked door, hands in his wrinkle-free perfectly fitted black work slacks. His lack of response is louder than the faint trickle from the utility sink your bare-ass is pressed against.

Dave saunters over to you, his pristinely polished shoes clinking heavily with every step despite the minimal weight he's using. It's a commanding presence, shows how he doesn't have to storm over to establish authority. His handsome body towers over you and the faint hairs on your spine rapidly rise at the feeling of his warmth nearing your own naked body. Aside from the small washcloth that covers your crotch and arm across your heavy tits.

His veiny calloused wedding ring-wearing hand reaches next to you, finding the lace on your nightgown satisfyingly soft.

"Look at this, angel. Did you plan on wearing it for my inconsiderate son?" He remarks, looking into your wide eyes as his fingers continue to twist and feel at a piece of clothing that is filling you with an overbearing amount of embarrassment.

"I d- you weren't supposed to see that." The nervous confession brings a crooked grin to Dave's face.

"It's real pretty, just like you. Sexy even.... but I wouldn't waste my time putting something like this on for Daniel." Shaking his head at your frazzled state and utilizing that dismissive tone he does so well.

"W-why?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your innocent unknowing voice, Dave reaches a hand to slowly move your arm that's covering your plush chest. "Because, he left 10 minutes ago. Waved bye to me as I pulled into the driveway."

Now you're really fucking confused. Your husband never goes off without texting you to let you know, and why would he leave you alone at his parents home? Especially on the night prior to your anniversary.

"I don't understand. Did he tell you where he was going?" You probe at him, not processing the way his rough fingertips are skimming over your navel, up across your chest. Suddenly, you yelp as he pinches your pebbled nipple and grips under your adjacent perky breast. Your hand quickly grabs at his wrist, but he slaps it away — holding it at your waist.

"You really have nothing going on in that head of yours, huh? Just floating around being the perfect little wife for my son, is that right? Too stupid and blind to see that your husband cheats on you every living moment and only married you because you're nothing more than a sweet voice who’s gentle on the eyes." His painful out-of-pocket words paired with the twisting of your nipples has heavy tears brimming at your lashes. "Kind of him to make sure you're gentle on his old mans eyes too.... we always did share a type."

"Fuck you," you spit at him. You've never dared be rude to Dave, or anyone for that matter. But his condescending temper, sudden violations to your privacy paired with the already upsetting feelings you've been enduring today was a breaking point. As you rip your hand from his grasp prepared to rush out of the room, he grabs your throat in a vice grip. Landing a brutal smack on your cheek that causes your head to turn from the impact, just for him to use that same hand to yank your hair back to a straight position. Body now pressed against your own — you feel the washcloth protecting your femininity drop at your bare feet in terror.

"Hmm. Never heard you cuss before, sweetheart. Thought I taught my son to train his wife better than that."

A heavy tear streams down your now red swollen cheek, as you take in the hurtful message your father in law is clarifying. You're nothing but a piece of fuck meat, a trophy wife. But clearly not honored enough for your husband to use you. Humiliatingly, the way Dave's clothed body is up against your own, has your exposed cunt throbbing and leaking down your legs for him. You were good enough for Dave York, and that was an honor within itself.

"'M sorry," you murmur at the feel of his covered thigh spreading your leg and nudging into your soaked pussy.

Dave chuckles at your nearly cock drunk state, "haven't even touched you and your leaking on my dress pants. No wonder he keeps you around, you're just a perfect little slut willing to please."

"Y- yeaah," you sigh lightly humping his thigh, even though Dave didn't even ask a question. Something within you just wanted him to understand your body was his to use, despite both your sacred dedications to other partners. People so close to you. His son, your husband. Your mother-in-law, his wife.

He swiftly moves his thigh from between your legs, pinching your cheeks so they're puckered willing you to look at him with those glossed over doe-eyes he fucking leaks over. "Use that head and address me properly."

Your head swarms for a second, worried of his reaction to an incorrect title. Testing the waters, you whine, "yes, sir." The words muffled by the tight hold he has on your face.

With a sinister grin on his face, Dave pushes you down on the solid tile — hand still threaded through your hair to ensure your head movement is in his control.

"Look at that, your brain does work. Let's see about that mouth."

Yanking the zipper down, he pulls his semi-hard cock out and slaps it on your cheek, precum smearing slightly. As you eye his cock, you come to the realization that he's slightly bigger than his son at half mast, and you're gonna have to calm yourself to handle a monster like that.

"Are you gonna show me how good you take a cock down your throat? With those dick-sucking porn worthy lips?" Dave peers down at you. He has started to jerk himself to full length, his thumbs barely touching around his width.

"Yes, sir. I am."

The way your eyelids flutter up at him, so docile and unaware of just how vicious Dave intends to be on your needy body. It unlocks that fundamental primal male urge that he normally suppresses during sex.

"Open your mouth, bitch." As your tongue lolls out of your mouth obediently, a dribble of spit going down your chin to your neck to your tits gleams in the soft light. Dave grins as he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, touching at your sensitive uvula. You instantly attempt suppressing your rare gag reflex, body unprepared for his actions. "Nice job, knew you were meant to have your mouth filled."

Dave rips his fingers from you and smears the thick string of saliva across your face — slapping you across the face, rather gentle than before. As he grabs his cock and lines it up with your mouth, you inhale deeply. Seemly more aware of how Dave likes to be. Callous, straight-forward and dominant.

Before you can suck him into your mouth, Dave spits right on his cock — some of it landing on your moisturized lips — just to slam himself down your throat. Your eyes spring open looking up at him, polished hands gripping at his slack-covered thighs. You feel your left over slick on his right pant leg. The taste of his long day is heavy on your tongue as his balls nuzzle at your chin. You're overwhelmed with his scent. The hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, stud piercing almost getting caught.

"Riiiight there, that's fucking it. What a real fucking whore."

Dave lets his head fall backwards, eyes on the ceiling as he feels you sputter around him, your spit dripping heavily down his balls and onto the tile between his legs. He's unsure on how long he looks upwards, until he feels the digging of your fingertips into him. When he looks down, your eyes are bulging — about to roll into the back of your skull. So he pulls off of you.

Your belligerent cough is almost too loud for comfort, so Dave jerks his cock and plops his full balls into your mouth. And like the eager girl you are, you suck them into your mouth. Licking at the seam between them, letting them bounce off of your tongue. You lick downwards, tonguing at his delicate perineum. That small but dirty act makes him groan loudly. Loud enough for someone on the second floor to hear.

Realizing he's getting too comfortable, he goes back to filling your mouth. Alternating between shallow fucking of the throat and just letting it bulge inside. His big hands wrapping around your neck to jerk himself through the thin hump of protruding skin.

When he hears the shrewd screech of his name from the mouth of his wife downstairs, he pulls out swiftly and yanks you up, hoisting your leg onto the counter. Prodding his cock head at your now unbelievably soaked entrance.

Your mind is hazy and disorientated concerning what's about to happen. You feel like you've barely had any time to process the fact that your father in law is treating you like a common street whore. So, when he pushes into you, a wailing shriek escapes you.

Dave slaps his heavy hand around your mouth from behind, pushing in balls deep but not before releasing a moan of his own.

"Better shut that mouth before I stuff something in there... good god. How is that cunt so damn tight? You're snug around me, guess you're not a slut after all. Tight pussy but loose throat, just how I like it."

Dave proceeds with his relentless thrusts into your aching cunt. You don't remember the last time you were filled so thoroughly. It makes you forget how fucked up this situation truthfully is.

As Dave's cock is slamming into your cervix over and over, you feel your lower stomach tightening. He feels it too. Dave has been holding in his orgasm since you first fell to your knees and gave him those fuck toy eyes. So before you can cum all over him, he grabs you by the neck from the front and puts your ear right by his mouth so he can relay his special message.

"My son told me you've been begging him for a baby... how sweet. You just wanna be a mama, huh? Or maybe, you think having one will fix your relationship. Just reminds me how stupid you are. If a kid could save a marriage, my wife and I would've been happy ever since she pushed that little shit out. But, I'm gonna make it even better for you, sweetheart...."

Dave pushes to the hilt as you cum around him, whimpering behind his hand. Eager to hear his words, simultaneously terrified.

"Gonna cum inside and get you pregnant myself."

You scream into his hand, trying to push him away from you, trying to get yourself away from his spearing cock. All your effort does is push him in deeper, your body going lax at how stuffed you are.

"Don't fight me, angel. Just take it..." You feel his warm cum spilling into you, your body quivering. "Good... so good. I already feel your body sucking up my cum.. eager for it. Eager to be round with your father in law's baby. What will it call me? Grand-dad?" He snickers into your ear as he releases your body. You just lay there, half your limp limbs hanging off the counter.

Dave watches his thick white liquid drip out of you, and down your inner thighs. He pats your ass and tucks himself back into his slacks.

"Don't worry too much. Daniel looks just like me, he'll never find out his kid is actually his half-sibling. That is unless you tell him. You want him to find out you were on your knees being a slut for his, daddy?" Dave questions you. You don't speak a word. Just staring at the piped detailing on the cupboard that holds all the scented detergents.

"Just go, please. So I can clean myself up." Those few begging words take the reminanets of your little energy.

Dave grabs your now wrinkly nightgown and robe, pulling you off the counter so you're forced to stand in front of him. Body spent, his finger prints have left slight indents on various parts of you that you're positive will bruise in the days to come. You realize now, there's no way your husband can see you uncovered for weeks.

"You're gonna put this slutty outfit on and walk your ass into his room, with my cum dripping down your legs. He's been waiting for you, sweetheart."

Your jaw drops at his demand. Disgusted yet your cunt clenches at the filth of it all.

"I thought you said he left?"

Dave just smiles at you like you're a mindless child. You almost fall to the floor in despair at the discovery of what a lying sick bastard Dave has revealed himself to be. You don't know what to do. You've caught yourself up in this twisted game and as of now, there's no way out.

So, you throw the soft lace over your head and run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix your appearance. As you unlock the door, Dave places a gentle hand on your waist and kisses the top of your head. You hear him inhale your scent before he pushes you out of the door and watches you meander to his son's room, a slight limp in your legs.

You look at him, distain on your face as you open the door to find your husband scrolling on his phone. With an arrogant look spread across his face — "Where have you been?"

Dave hears the click of the door lock setting in place. As he walks towards the stairwell, he can't help but laugh at the memory of his vasectomy he received many years ago.

thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

#hotdilfsummerchallenge #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york fanfic #dave york x f!reader #equalizer 2 #pedro pascal fanfiction

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almostfoxglove · 3 months ago

Text

HOLD STILL

written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge

RATING: Explicit (18+) PAIRING: Bodyguard!Dave York x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k CW: Dave's filthy mouth, pwp, smut (cockwarming, unprotected piv, creampie, sorta soft-dom!dave but really he's just bossy, sorta praise kink, a couple pussy pronouns don’t look at me), and one nonsense tense switch just for the hell of it I guess.

SUMMARY: On your last night together, Dave agrees to compromise.

read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist

You want him, but he won’t fuck you. Not once, not even quickly, not even with just his hands. Dave York—ever stoic, unflinching—insists on doing his job and his job alone. And you, as he so enjoys reiterating, are not his job. Protecting you is.

For three weeks you’ve smothered the calendar hung on the kitchen wall with another red X each morning, whittling the days until you give your polished testimony and say goodbye to him for good. Now the court date looms heavy on the horizon—it’ll rise tomorrow with the sun.

In the meantime—these last, dwindling hours—you roam the grand rooms of an apartment rented for your protection, your anonymity, at the very skirt of the city where you’d surely have lost your mind if not for him. Stationed diligently at your side, hand never more than a twitch from the grip of his gun. So many hours spent alone you've memorized his form: how he looks scanning the curtained windows for any whisper of danger. How he's never complained when you choose cheesy reality shows from the TV guide. Teaching you how to play Spades with a deck of cards soft and worn—from his home, maybe, though you never ask—and letting you win the first hand, lips quirked when you call him out on it, then unapologetically wiping the floor with you for the rest of your isolation.

Yes, you know him, though only in image. Broad and sturdy, shirts each neatly ironed and squarely tucked. The hard line of his jaw and the fullness of his bottom lip. His hair always swept neatly from his face, even when you know he’s recently woken up. Never scruffy, never stubbled. Clean shaven and the smell of nice hotel shampoo.

It’s wrong, how you try to prod him to no avail. No matter your efforts, he says nothing of the way you adorn your body: lacy slips and satin sets at night, hugging silhouettes during the day, hair always done, lipstick never out of place even though you can’t leave the apartment or stand too near the windows. Dave is the only one who sees you, save for the days or hours when he leaves you his clumsy understudy to step down from his post.

He must know you do it for him.

It’s wrong, but you asked once, early on. Tonight?

And Dave’s mouth pinched into a flat, polite line. Unreadable, his face drained of its emotion. His declination drawled deep and heady, a voice that curled your toes and more than once kept you panting alone in your bed that’s not yours at all, just two doors away from his, fingers needy and swirling. No, honey. Not tonight.

Repeated in your mind until it warped like an overplayed tape.

No, honey.

Honey.

Not tonight.

Tonight.

Tonight, he is gone—your last together before the trial—leaving you in the hollow apartment with his proxy, stung. Same dark clothes, same holstered gun, same little piece nestled in his ear, but not half of what you want. You want Dave: a man as solid as he is driven, immutable as he is tempting. Assigned to protect you until you deliver the account that’ll send a monster away.

Perhaps you’ve liked the game—how he watches you, but never gives in—but now it’s lost its shimmer.

Lights dimmed for the evening, all black curtains drawn, the vaulted ceilings of the kitchen feel miles high as you perch on a barstool at the breakfast counter to stare at the calendar taunting you across the quiet room. Beyond the pristine halls you’ve lapped all day like an anxious dog, the city serenades you. Traffic squealing through streets, sirens singing in the distance, the occasional shout of someone walking by outside, eight floors below.

You are not, at night, permitted to part the curtains, lest someone get a glimpse of your illuminated face, but you long to open one now, see if Dave is out there, returning to your little castle turret one final time. Because it’s possible he won’t come back at all—that his coworker will escort you between lobby and truck, between truck and courthouse, between courthouse and whatever comes next. Maybe home. That you’ll never see Dave again, let alone throw caution to the wind and ask once more, tonight?

And then, just then, as your stomach begins to sink with disappointment, you hear the sudden crack of the front door unlocking and the creak of its surrender. You’ve conjured him, somehow, past the stroke of midnight. Then low, rumbled whispers, the unmistakable tone of Dave’s voice mumbling to his understudy. Your heart speeds as the door closes again and his stand-in retreats into the hall. How dizzying, the sound of locks settling into their rightful places, turned by Dave’s unerring hands.

When he appears in the dining room behind you, bomber jacket hanging from one arm, he tucks a tiny apology into the twitch of his lips—or maybe it’s meant to be a smile. “It’s late,” he says, as your eyes drink him in. Polished as ever, despite the hour, not a stitch out of place. “Should be in bed.”

You shrug, hoping you might appear indifferent. “Couldn’t sleep,” you say, aware of how the satin of your robe slopes off your shoulder with no intention of righting it.

Does something darken in his face then, or do you imagine it? You can’t be sure, not in this umbra, at this time of night. Jaw ticking, Dave strides cautiously toward the dining table, drapes his jacket over the back of one glossy chair, and sinks into the seat at the head of the sleek table, same as usual. A quiet kind of reign, his claiming this position, always, for every meal. He scratches his cheek, slips the gun from the holster at his belt to rest on the table, and as he leans back you indulge yourself—how can you not—in the slight buck of his hips as he shifts to stretch out his legs.

“Need your rest,” Dave chides softly. No edge to his tone.

Sighing before you can stop yourself, disappointed all over again as his gaze draws off you to the windows and drapes. On duty, still. On duty, always. Not you. Not tonight. “S’the last night,” you reply, staring at the calendar again. One little red X to go. “You weren’t here.”

Behind you, his deep and measured breath. The shiver of that unflappable restraint, you hope, but you don’t yet dare to look back. He might spook.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

You don’t budge. Don’t move.

“You hear me?” Voice a little harder now, solidifying. When he speaks to you, you always look him in the eye—or you always have before.

Electric, your heart. Revving just a breath faster, just a hair harder, at the sound of him huffing in frustration. Your lips tick up in one corner, hidden, a secret meant only for you. When Dave says your name, your whole body purrs and you at last turn your head enough to let him glimpse your profile, still withholding your gaze.

“Pouting,” he scolds, this time meaning it. “That what this is?”

“Avoiding me,” you counter. “That where you were?”

Dave hmphs, darkness fading and softness returning to his tone. “Course not, honey.”

You look at him now, properly. Barstool spinning as you push off the counter to face him. Under the dusk of dimmed pendant lights over the dining table, Dave glows. In the time you’ve looked away, he’s unbuttoned his shirt one button lower than it’d been when he walked in.

One button lower than you’ve ever seen him wear before.

“Said I’m sorry,” he says again, head tilted. His foot comes out to nudge the leg of the chair beside his, angling it in your direction. “Come here.”

He means for you to sit, maybe play a hand of Spades, but as you slink off the barstool you have no intention of taking the seat. Warmth flushing in your chest, cool, conditioned air greeting your bare legs and collarbones, all the skin not covered by your sleekest sleep set. You swear he drinks the sight of you, for once, as you cross the kitchen toward him. Eyes dark not only from shadows, from the time. Or else you hope, as you come to a stop between Dave’s knees, that the way he’s not yet blinked means what you want it to.

Lips parting, a breath from speaking when you beat him to the punch and ask, “Tonight?” Your chin lowered and eyes searching his. It’s the last night. Might as well show your hand while you still can, before he slinks back into the underbelly of a city where you know he’s lived for years but you’ve never once glimpsed him, and not just because it’s busy.

Because invisible is what he’s paid to be, what he’s good at. Unseen until the fist of him is needed, the gun.

Pink striping his bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue, eyes boring into you. The slightest shake of his head, clean-shaven cheeks sharked in the shadow and golden light. “Honey.” Not a no, honey. Not a not tonight. Just honey, like you’ve imagined.

Emboldened, you caress of your fingertips across his shoulder, tracing the seam of his crisp, pale blue dress shirt. So handsome, always so handsome. A man who takes care of himself, who tidies and cleans without your needing to ask. Spotless, always. Reserved, always. Killing you, always, with every brush of his gaze.

You draw your fingers towards his shirt collar.

“Can’t,” says Dave, softer still. Breathy, almost. You pet the knife-cut of his pressed collar, the button just below it, and his Adam’s apple bobs slowly in his throat. Again, he shakes his head so slightly it looks more like a twitch. A reflex to say no. Not a desire to. “Can’t fuck you, honey. Wouldn’t be right.”

You bite your lip, brows drawing together, not lifting your hand from the button placket of his shirt. “Just tonight,” you breathe, and bat your eyes a little.

At last Dave’s dark eyes drop from yours, scanning the length of you above him with searing precision. Consideration. You slant your head to one side as his gaze slides back up, hesitating on your silk-draped chest, and you suck a sharper breath before it returns to meet yours. He cuffs your wrist with his hand to halt your teasing as he shakes his head once more, licking his bottom lip again with greater meaning. A glint in his eyes, lust finally flaring.

Pride swirls in your stomach, honeyed and wanting. Then he tugs you by the hips with such reflexes you hardly register the movement of his hands before you’re on him, straddling him in the chair, your thighs framing his hips. Held. Your robe fanning behind you, over his knees. Heart pounding dangerously close to a cardiac event.

Dave tsks softly, smirking when you whimper, trying to roll your hips over the heat of his crotch. Those careful, deadly hands lock them in a vice as he clicks his tongue. “Not gonna fuck you,” he murmurs, and you lean in to kiss him but he pulls his head away. “Not gonna kiss you either. Not right.”

You don’t care about right. Now you pout for real, forehead wrinkling, staring at his upturned lips. You feel the unmistakable twitch of him growing hard against you and your cunt throbs in reply, needy and slick. You try to wiggle again but Dave pinches your hips in warning. “Look at me,” he repeats, that edge to his voice that curls your toes, and your eyes snap to his.

“Good girl.”

You moan quietly, made liquid by the tender swipe of his thumb over the satin of your sleep shorts. Your eyes fluttering at such a tiny stroke, not even the meeting of skin.

“You can’t move, okay? Only allowed to sit.” When you don’t answer, too lost to the throb of his cock against your begging core, Dave pinches you again, voice gravelly in a way you’ve not heard before. “You hear me?”

Nodding, you hum. Can’t quite get out the word.

“Need to hear you, honey. Gonna hold still for me?”

“Mhm,” you whine, fighting your every instinct to grind down against him as you meet his lust-blown eyes. “Yes. Only allowed to sit.”

Dave puffs a hot breath out that sends a wake of goosebumps across your chest. “Good girl,” he coos, and your brows pinch at the praise. “Soaking me already, honey. Can’t sleep like this, can you? Just need to turn your brain off, hm?” The movement of his hips below yours is so slight you might imagine it, that tiny grind as his cock grows. You nod, whine softly, and both his thumbs stroke your hips gently before stilling again.

“Show me, honey.” So quiet. So little air between you, and yet too much.

You scan his face until he offers a small nod. Those brown eyes hooded by dark lashes, devouring you without need for the press of his mouth. It’d be soft, you’re certain. The caress of his lips. Maybe the rest of him is hard and deadly, but those would be tender, careful—they’d take you apart, breath by breath. With the same precision with which he darts between shadows and cleans his gun and beats you at cards and tucks your hair behind your ear when you’re falling asleep on the couch, he’d dissolve you kiss by kiss with a kind of grace.

It’s his lips on which you pin your gaze as you let one hand drift between your legs, dipping easily between silk and skin—your body made jelly so quickly and by so little contact, already wet. You pray you don’t imagine the sharpness of his breath when your knuckles accidentally graze against his slacks as you slip your fingers between dewy folds. Then: your hand rising in the dim light, shining, honeyed. Dave watching them, the corner of his mouth cracking just a little. Tensing into his cheek.

He grunts, good girl, and then he’s lifting you just enough to peel down the zip of his slacks, flick open the button, but when your eyes fall hopeful for a glimpse of him he tsks, hooks one finger beneath your chin to tilt your face up, whispers a soft eyes on me, honey as he pulls himself out where you can’t see.

As his knuckles brush against the wet gusset of your shorts, nudging them to the side. Finding no panties to move.

As the head of his cock—plush, warm, weeping—nudges against the ache of you, the thrum of your longing.

He grins, wicked.

Then pressure, a moan lost to the air you’re hardly conscious of and the stretch of him, the slow press in and the ache of your cunt swallowing his girth inch by inch. You whimper, eyelids shuddering like old film, catching only still frames of Dave’s expression as he lowers you gently, burying himself in your drooling heat until you come to rest at his base, flush and full.

So full. Light-headed, sparkling. Your hips must rock because he squeezes your waist. “Hold still, honey,” he coos. “Remember?”

The terms of his touch sounded alright just a breath ago, but now you can’t imagine how you ever agreed. How you’re supposed to stay still with him throbbing inside you like this, heavy and sweet, exactly what you need. A flicker in his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how he’s scrubbing out every thought in your head. Cocky, yes. But earning it.

“Dave,” you sigh, breathy and desperate. Your cunt clenching and squeezing and pushing out slick, probably ruining his slacks but he won’t let you look down, just tilts your head up gently every time it hangs slack. “Please.”

His breathing catches for a beat, then it’s steady again. “I know, I know,” he murmurs, keeping his finger under your chin to keep your eyes on him—but he hardly needs to. You’d swear the whole world drained away the second he slid into you. There’s nothing else past your bodies, past this one dining room chair. Everything else disappears like magic. The trial, the dread, the drone of city noise. The slow leak of your heart knowing this is goodbye—all of it. Gone.

You’d have sworn it impossible to come like this, with no movement at all, but you will. You do. And months from now—safe in the swaddle of your actual apartment that for weeks has stood hollow and dusty, plants withering sadly on their windowsills—you’ll lie in bed longing, missing, remembering. Trying to recreate the swipe of his thick thumb on your clit as you replay this moment in your head. How you whined, wanna take care of you when Dave still wouldn’t let you move, even when you were close, just swiped and swiped his thumb until you were something more than alive, transcending.

How his pupils had set ablaze with your whispered plea. How you’d realized that was the point, for him. The begging and the not giving in.

How he’d growled, “Taking care of you is taking care of me. You don’t think I’m gonna come the second this pussy strangles my cock? ‘Cause I am. S’all I need, honey, just give it to me—”

His voice the thunder to your body’s crackle and lightning.

“Let her take care of me, that’a girl, that’s it, just like that honey, she’s so tight—fuck—so fuckin’ tight around me, just squeezin’ me, gonna come when you do, pretty girl, let me have it.”

How it hit you like a white bolt of heat and light, every cell in you tense and flaming, then melting, boneless on his lap as he murmured sweetly, grunted, tried to lift you off him just in time and you’d finally, finally touched him—lucid in an instant, hands slammed down on the muscle of his shoulders. Mumbling amidst your aftershocks, inside, inside, inside. Eyelids stuttering again, back to picture frames as your cunt seized and begged in tandem.

The snarl of his upper lip.

His knotted jaw.

Tongue sucked against his front teeth, resolve crumbling.

The allowance granted to your hands to stay right there, fisting his shirt collar as his locked your waist in a bruising vice. His hips bucking only once, grinding the head of his cock deeper, deliciously, almost too good to take.

“Fuck, fuckfuck—yeah, that what she needs, honey? Needs me to fill her up?”

You’ll remember your own reply as you near a second-rate heaven in the nest of your duvet at home, all frantic hands and thrusting digits and eyes slammed shut, repainting him in your head. Golden in that gloomy light, hair straying out of position across his misted forehead for the first time. Yes. Please. Dave. Yes. Inside. Please—and his grunt, dark and sweet as caramel, as burnt brown sugar. That tiny grin dragging at his soft lips, pleased. You’d pleased him, surprised him maybe.

That can make you sparkle now, to remember.

“Okay, honey. Okay—shit—gonna give it to you, hm? Gonna give you all of it, baby—she’s squeezing me so goddamn tight, fuck, wanna stay here all night—”

Then the granting of a wish, the heat of him spilling into your cunt, the unmistakable slide of slick leaking between your thighs and onto his; you didn’t have to look to know. You could feel it, that wholeness overflowing. You can almost feel it now; three fingers might be a poor attempt at recreation, but you fall off the cliff all the same, his name on your tongue, a cry in the night, all the curtains dark and drawn as you come down breathless and drowsy, your whole body limp and spent as it’d been that night with him—when he’d tucked himself away and petted your hair back from your face, so gentle with you, cooing that you did so good, honey. Such a good girl. Gonna get you into bed now, hm? Need your sleep, honey. Come on.

Carrying you into your not-real bedroom, tucking you in so tenderly, like he hadn’t just taken you apart at the molecules. And Dave’s lips were just as plush as you’d imagined when they grazed your forehead, his big hand petting your cheek once more, then turning out the lights. That deep timbre whispering from the doorway, goodnight. The door clicking shut. All of it perfect. How you’d known you mattered more than a job for just one moment in time.

dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals <3

@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed

@burntheedges @la-eterna-enamorada29 @goodgirlwannabe @guiltyasdave @for-a-longlongtime

@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal

@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @jolapeno

@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours

@noisynightmarepoetry @clawdee

#dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york smut #pedro pascal #dave york x you #the equalizer 2 #dave york fanfic #au august #shortieswritingchallenge #punkshort #myfics #almostfoxglove #smut #one shot #fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #fic: holdstill #do not perceive me for 3-6 business days

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baronessvonglitter · 5 months ago

Text

Halftime Show

Joel Miller, Javier Pena, Dave York, Frankie Morales, Marcus Moreno x f!sexworker!reader (lucky girl)

Word count: 2.7K

Summary: you're an escort hired for a private Super Bowl party hosted by a mysterious client and his four friends

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, reader's work name is "Angel", reader is a sex worker, mildly dubious consent (though she does state that the men can do as they want, it's her first experience in sex work), rough sex (but no violence done to reader), group sex, threesome to sixsome, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected p in v sex, double p in v, anal sex & fingering, multiple penetration, hand jobs, face fucking, facial, verbal abuse/humiliation, squirting, swallowing, creampie, spitroasting, reader gets slapped w/a dick for a bit, porn without plot, you know.. all the sweet stuff.

Author's Note: another cross-post from AO3 but honestly, football is barely mentioned so if you want you can ignore the whole Super Bowl aspect. Y'all might know by now I love a little romance in my smut but this particular fic has zero romance. Reader is there to do a job and leaves having done it very well. Also.. I'm considering creating a part 2 featuring more Pedro Boys, so any input on that is welcome!

FULL MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST | FRANKIE MORALES MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST | JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST

It's your first day as an escort and you're a little nervous. Okay, a lot nervous. You never know what you're going to expect from clients, but these guys you're about to meet have been pre-screened and even had to turn in blood tests just to be considered as clients. The escort service you work for is very prestigious. You're even driven to the location by a security detail who is tasked to wait outside for you. This makes you feel a little better.

You take a quick look at your outfit before you leave the car. The rule is you show up in character and leave in character. No real names, no background stories, just a persona and an exchange of goods. Simple as that. Should be easy enough.

Taking a deep breath, you exit the car and go up to the front door.

The doorbell rings, and Dave York springs from the sofa, a little smirk on his lips. "Guys, I think she's here," he announces, and the rest of the group look up from the Super Bowl game, groaning when Dave mutes the sound even though it's just gone to commercial.

"Who?" Frankie Morales asks, swigging a beer.

"The halftime entertainment," Dave answers mysteriously.

Marcus Moreno and Joel Miller trade inquisitive glances. Javier Peña raises his brow. He knows what Dave means.

Dave brings you into the living room and you take a quick survey of your surroundings: the home is nicer than most, two stories, decorated tastefully but with an obvious woman's touch. You give him a once-over. He's forty-ish, handsome, clean-shaven.

"The wife got the house in the divorce," Dave tells you, as if reading your mind. "This is my last weekend here, so let's make it count!" He raises his glass of whiskey to the guys, most of whom also salute with their drinks. They are all eyeing you like a pack of dogs that haven't eaten in days.

Marcus, a kind-looking man with dark eyeglasses who gives you Clark Kent vibes, smiles awkwardly at you, blushing. "Aren't you going to introduce us?" he asks Dave politely.

"Angel," you give your working name, smiling at each of the men. They're all cute: some scruffy, some dapper.

Dave smirks. "I'm Dave, and these are my buddies Marcus, Frankie, Joel, and Javier." Each of the guys smiles or nods at you as they're introduced.

"I heard you guys are looking to get wild," you say, opening your winter coat to reveal your see-through lingerie. Joel, Javier, and Dave whoop in excitement. Marcus and Frankie are more reticent but can't take their eyes off you. "What do you plan on doing with little ol' me?" you ask innocently, kneeling on the cushioned ottoman in the middle of the living room. You glide your hands over your body and smile as the men shift in their seats, watching you, getting hard already at the idea of you offering yourself.

Dave is the first to put his hands on you, first on your hips then grabbing your ass. Joel, an older man with graying hair and green flannel shirt, interrupts him, rising from his seat. "Now, who told you you get to go first?" he asks in a deep voiced Texan accent.

"First? We're running a train on this girl?" Javier asks from his seat, a cigarette burning between his lips. He's dressed like someone from the 1970s but his clothes fit him well, accentuating a lean physique.

"You can do whatever you want with me," you tell them with confidence. "But of course, no hitting, no biting, no leaving marks." You are resolute on this, as is your employer.

"Hell, darlin', we're not monsters," Joel says, his eyes full of concern for you. The others chime in that they aren't into really rough stuff. Only Dave looks a little disappointed by your rule.

"I'd expect you to be more methodical about this," Javier tells Dave, rising from his seat and casting an amused glance at his friend. He eyes you up and down then reaches into your bra to cup your breast while his other hand dives between your thighs. "Christ, she's already wet. And so fucking tight. You haven't been doing this kind of work long, have you, baby?"

"You all are my first clients," you admit, your breath hitching as his thick fingers tease you.

Javier manages a small smile then looks over at the group. "You haven't thought about these guys," he tells Dave, and nods at Frankie and Marcus. "They're completely baffled by this."

"We're not, I know exactly what's going on," insists Frankie, an adorable middle-aged guy wearing a t-shirt, cargo pants and baseball cap. His innocence is palpable and quite touching.

Dave and Javier's hands are still on you, grabbing and groping. It's a good start. "I'm paying for her. I should get to go first," Dave complains.

A few of the guys (well, okay, Javier and Dave) start to bicker about it, fueled by testosterone and alcohol. Joel strides up to you, effectively taking you away from Dave and Javier. "It's kind of a shame that no one's puttin' her feelings into consideration. She's gonna be providin' a huge service for us. Least we can do is give her a little pleasure beforehand." With that, he takes you and places you on the ottoman, kneeling between your open thighs. He rips open the crotch of your lingerie and dives in, sucking on your pussy. Your initial shock gives way to thrill as you register the warm, wet stiffness of his tongue rasping your folds, your clit, not taking his time about it. Your fingers curl into his hair as you lift your thighs back. You're still on the clock, still giving a show, even if this part is currently for your benefit. With Joel's aid you manage to take the now-ruined lingerie off and are naked but for your knee-high stockings.

"Way to get the party started," Javier says approvingly. "I'm not about to waste any time." He goes to you and sits you up. You take a moment to admire the bulge in those tight trousers before he pulls them down enough to take out his thick shaft. You obediently open your mouth to accept it and he slowly moves into your throat, allowing you to get used to him. Saliva pools in your mouth as you start to moan around his dick, still exhilarated by Joel's ravishing you with his tongue. You feel a hand massaging your breast and look over to see Frankie, his puppy dog eyes wide with wonder, as if he can't believe you're real.

"That feels so good," you tell him, sensing he likes praise. He lights up, encouraged by you, and continues to pinch and pull at your nipple before sucking on it, extracting a pleasured moan from your lips before you go back to sucking off Javier.

Marcus and Dave stand back. Marcus looks flustered and Dave has his hands on his hips, making a face. He's figuring out where to squeeze in but at the same time doesn't want to share.

Meanwhile you're keeping busy with Javier's cock in your mouth, Frankie's mouth on your breast, and Joel still lapping at you between your thighs. The most exquisite feelings comes over you and your scream is muffled as you come so hard, your body spasming while surrounded by these men. It's the most sensually charged moment of your entire life.

Joel lifts himself up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "She's wetter'n a cucumber in a convent," he chuckles, standing and trying to get the feeling back in his knees. Frankie then moves down to finger you just as Javier is on the verge of coming. Just as he gives a strangled growl, spilling his cum into your willing throat, you feel one of Frankie's fingers in your ass. You gasp and clench around him as Dave takes Javier's place. Your body is buzzing with energy, with lust.

"You're gonna earn every penny," Dave growls, thrusting into your mouth as if he hates you. You don't have a gag reflex but you pretend to choke on him, bringing tears to your eyes.

Frankie starts to undo his pants then quickly steps away. "I'm, uh, not ready yet."

"Let her take care of it," Javier says, lighting up another cigarette.

"No smoking in here," Dave warns, his eyes still on the mascara running down your face.

"Fuck you."

You start stroking Frankie, smiling at the plumpness of his cock, uncut. He's gazing down at you with tenderness in his eyes.

"Marcus, you joinin' us?" Joel asks, getting ready to pull down his jeans.

Marcus watches from the adjoining kitchen, his beer growing warm in his hand. "Maybe.. in a bit." He smiles nervously.

Joel shrugs and unzips himself, releasing his thick, veiny cock. It's all you can do not to stare at it in wonder.

"Hey, I was gonna go first," Dave says aggressively.

"You snooze you lose. Aren't we all gonna get a turn?" Joel smirks before aligning himself to your opening. "Such a tiny, perfect little pussy.. you're gonna be completely wrecked when we're done with you, babygirl..."

Your eyes widen when he begins to slide into you, but you're already slick enough to take him. You remove Dave from your mouth so you can watch Joel's cock disappear inch by inch into your cunt.

"Don't forget about me," Dave warns you, tapping his dick against the side of your face. You compliantly return to sucking him off and he grunts contentedly in response. At the same time Joel pushes in to the hilt. "Hell she's taking every inch of me," he groans. "What a good little slut she is.."

"Well shit, don't stretch her out before the rest of us," Dave complains.

"That's not a particular worry of mine," Javier smirks, getting himself ready again as he goes to your free hand, opposite Frankie, who is already hard and ready. Joel is building up a nice tempo, sliding deep inside your pussy, Dave thrusts avidly into your mouth, Frankie and Joel are watching you as you zealously prime them for whatever they want to do next.

"Oh my god!" Frankie's eyes go wide and without warning he comes on your stomach and you make a sound of surprise when you feel the warm stickiness of him on your skin. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be," you tell him with a smile. "Think you've got another one in you?" you wink and scoop his cum into your mouth as Frankie watches in wonder.

Dave seems upset that you keep removing him from your mouth to talk to Frankie, but Frankie looks so happy that you're not grossed out or upset. Dave grabs hold of the back of your head and rams himself in your throat. "Less talking, bitch," he growls.

You would give him a death glare but then you feel Joel speeding up, his thrusts strong, the loud slapping of your flesh fills the air. Before you know it you're throbbing around him, milking him as you feel him finish inside you. He doesn't stay long, and soon Javier takes his place. "Flip over, cariño," he says, moving you on all fours. Dave takes over from the front, Frankie strokes himself while fondling your tit. Javier grabs your ass and slides in, letting you feel every inch of him as you moan around Dave's cock. He cums soon, spraying the back of your throat with his thick white cum.

"Get in there, Frankie!" Javier encourages, pumping away none too gently as he watches your ass ripple with each thrust. "Marcus get over here and do something or you'll miss out!"

Marcus seems frozen to his spot but Frankie follows orders and you open wide to receive him. He looks down at you like you're some kind of miracle, and you make sure to look at him the same way, charmed by his good nature.

Javier leans close to you. "I'm gonna put it in your ass, cariño."

"Do whatever you want," you purr.

He pulls out of you and you feel a warm glob of saliva at your rear entrance. Javier smears it around your puckered hole and eases himself in. You gasp, fists clenching the edge of the ottoman. "Fill all her holes, boys," Dave says, watching from the side. "That's what she's here for."

Frankie pulls away from your mouth. "Let me get under you." he says, and Javier pulls out enough for you two to get positioned. Frankie aligns himself at your entrance and sinks in easily. "Jesus, you feel so good, Angel.." He thrusts up into you as Javier continues to fuck your ass. The three of you are a fusion of lust and frenzy. Joel watches, running his tongue over his lips, still tasting your sweet essence. Dave tells everyone he's next to claim your ass. Marcus has since inched closer, undeciding yet if he's going to join, or how. He's obviously hard, his eyes dark with craving.

"Marcus," you mumble as he approaches your side. "Fuck my mouth," you beg.

He suppresses a gasp but he unbuckles his belt. "I haven't.. in a while.."

"That's okay.." you smile at him, helping him pull down his pants and briefs, running your nails over his solid girth, and he immediately rises to the occasion. "You were shy before, but not now," you notice, and give his cock a couple of gentle tugs before taking him into your waiting mouth, just the tip, and letting him go in as deep as he wants.

Javier speeds up, fingers digging into your hips as all your cries fill the room. He comes, filling your ass as he grunts savagely, causing you in turn to come, clenching around Frankie who buries himself deep inside as he lets go. Once Javier pulls away Dave takes over, gripping your hips and moving you against him.

You finger your lonely pussy, unable to make yourself feel as good as any of these men have. “Oh god, I want all of you at once.. please!” You beg.

Marcus approaches you and lays beneath you as Dave moves away, scoots up so he’s practically standing over you. Joel claims your mouth and Javier lets you pump him with your fist. Frankie approaches from behind and at the same time Marcus enters you from beneath. Two men fuck your cunt, stretching you, ruining you, and all you can do is give them what they want and then ask for more.. one man in your mouth, in your hand, in your ass.. you are working for every penny just as Dave said.

You're practically dazed by the countless feelings of pleasure coming from every man inside you, the way they move, the way they taste, how their hands grope your ass or your breasts, your hips.. you're just a receptacle for them, a plaything. This allows your brain to soak everything in without having to think. Just feeling. None of them really care about your pleasure, not at this point. You're just a means to an end, and you like it. You've never felt more alive.

"God!" you gasp as you feel yet another wave of absolute euphoria threaten to take you under. You don't even bother to hold back. As soon as you come you feel them all come with you, like tiny explosions set off in a chain. You gulp down Joel's spunk as Dave spills himself inside your ass, and Marcus and Frankie throb then release, one only seconds after the other. Javier takes control of himself from you and spurts his cum onto your face. For the first time ever in your life, you squirt, gasping at the relief and suddenness of it. The six of you try hard to catch your breath, all of you taking in the moments of this night.

"I don't think I'll be able to cum for weeks," Joel says, chuckling as he pulls up his pants.

Showered and dressed, you leave in a skimpy outfit that covers more than the lingerie did, as Dave uses the escort agency's app to send you a very generous tip from himself and the rest of the guys. The guys, cleaned up and all in relaxed moods, watch the game, not even upset that they missed most of the second half. You take your money and leave, blowing a kiss to the guys.

"God damn, you hired a good one," Javier mutters to Dave.

"Let's make this an annual thing," Dave smirks. "Next one's on you, Peña."

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

745 notes · View notes

bitchesuntitled · 2 days ago

Text

You and me both! 😍

Lies, Excuses and Bullshit

Pairing: Exboyfriend!Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: A man with a double life willing to do anything to keep his obsession around, and a woman who doesn't know what she's gotten herself into.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ MDNI, go on get! Breaking up, creepy!Dave, infidelity, stalker behavior from Dave, oral(f receiving), spanking, unprotected PIV(make smarter choices), manipulation, and if there is anything I missed please let me know!

A/N: Phew, not sure what happened here. This is a first, I don't usually write darker stuff but something about Dave made it just fly out of my finger tips. This was written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge! Thank you Shortie for letting me be part of the challenge 😊 I need to shout out @beefrobeefcal @strang3lov3 @ozarkthedog and @mothandpidgeon thank you all for the encouragement and lending your eyeballs for this story! ❤️

@jay-zzle, my love, my bestie. This one is for you! 🥰❤️🥰❤️

Masterlist||AO3

divider by @saradika-graphics

You thought things were fine. Dave is the perfect gentleman. It is a complete shock to see this text from your friend. It was a picture of Dave with another woman and two little girls at a soccer game. Maybe it’s his niece's soccer game and he’s just there being a good uncle? Until the next text comes in.

Isn’t that your boyfriend?

Another picture is attached featuring Dave, his arm around the woman. Then another and another and another. More evidence to suggest he is obviously in a relationship with the woman and you are the one left in the dark on this whole situation.

You stopped responding to your friend a while ago, staring at the pictures they sent. Back and forth, memorizing every detail. The way he’s looking at her. The way his arm is around her. The way he’s touching her. The way he kissed her - that was the one that sealed your fate of knowing you had in fact not been seeing a recently divorced man but a married one. Your phone buzzes with another text notification.

D. York: Hey baby, still picking you up at 9 right?

You glare at your phone unsure of what the next step is. Obviously he is cheating on his wife unbeknownst to you. How does somebody even handle something like this? You really liked Dave, you saw a future with him. Your relationship has been going on for months now.

After neglecting to respond your phone buzzes again with another text from the man himself.

D. York: Been thinking about you

You roll your eyes and text him back.

You: Not tonight. Don’t feel good.

D. York: Aw you poor thing. Do you need anything?

You didn’t even have the energy to respond with this new found information rattling around your brain, pressing the button to make your phone sleep and making your way to your bedroom. You plugged your phone in and crawled into bed, ignoring the constant buzz against your nightstand as you tried to drift off. The sun was still out but you couldn’t be awake right now. You needed to shut your brain off and this was the only way you knew how.

There was a pounding on your door when you woke with a startle. The moon casting shadows through the curtains into your room. You checked your phone, seeing the multiple notifications, some from your friends and some from Dave. He’d also tried calling several different times.

D. York: Are you okay?

Did you talk to him yet?

D. York: Do you want some company?

Want me to kick his ass?

D. York: How are you feeling?

What do you plan to say?

D. York: Baby, please answer me. Getting a little worried here.

The pounding on your door continued as you checked your phone. The doorbell camera he insisted on getting for you and installed showed Dave at your doorstep holding a plastic bag, grumbling, you got out of bed and walked towards the door.

“I’m coming. Give it a rest,” you shout, hoping Dave can hear you over his loud knocks.

Sliding the chain lock you open the door.

“Baby,” Dave sighs with relief, “What have you been doing? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for hours now!”

“I told you, I don’t feel good,” you shrug, “I’ve been sleeping.”

“I’m sorry to wake you, I started to get worried,” Dave says, looking around your living room, “I got you some stuff to hopefully help with whatever bug you’ve seemed to catch.”

You watch as he carefully steps into your space, placing the bag on the coffee table in front of your couch.

“Dave,” you sigh, “I know.”

“Know what?” Dave asks, hands on his hips and shaking his head with a smirk.

“I know you’re still married.”

You see his adam's apple bob as he swallows, flopping back onto the couch, and clasping his hands together. He stays silent for a moment, contemplating what to say next.

“How’d you find out?”

Your eyes widen, not expecting him to fold so easily.

“A friend sent me some photos from today at the soccer field,” you murmur, trying to keep the wavering in your voice to a minimum.

“I see,” Dave says with a nod.

“You also have kids?”

Dave nods again, facing you this time.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Dave scoffs, “Sleep with you?”

“I wouldn’t just call what we’ve been doing as ‘sleeping together,’ Dave,” you say, using your fingers as air quotes when the words sleeping together leave your mouth.

“It’s really not that big of a deal,” Dave chuckles, “I get bored from time to time and like to play with someone new.”

“Your wife know that?” you ask, glaring at him. This man who you thought you knew is showing an entirely different side of himself, and you don’t like it.

“She doesn’t need to know because it’s not a big deal.” Dave sighs exasperated.

“I think it’s best if you left.”

“Alright,” Dave says standing, “If that’s what you want.”

“Yep,” you say with a sharp nod.

“Listen,” Dave says, reaching a hand towards your arm, and you slid your arm back letting him know not to touch you, and he put his hand down beside him, “Okay, well, it’s really not as big of a deal as you’re making it out to be. I like you, I like what we’ve been–”

“Dave, you’re cheating on your wife,” you grit through your teeth interrupting the spiel he was going on, and swung the door open for him, “Leave.”

—

“Fucking take it.” Dave growls in your ear, thrusting his hips harshly into you, “Just like that baby.”

Your moans fill his ears, he can tell you’re close. The way your walls flutter around his length, squeezing him tighter. He can practically taste your climax in the air around him, gripping your hips tighter and angling them so he can get deeper.

“Dave,” you sob, after a particularly harsh thrust. Fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, back arching as you continue to cry out his name.

Dave. Dave. Dave.

“David!”

Dave jumps to the sound of Carol’s voice. Looking around to see he’s in his own bed in his home, not yours.

“Honey, your alarm has been going off for 10 minutes now.”

He lets out a sigh facing his reality, adjusting the hardness in his pajama bottoms. It was just a dream. It’s been months since he’s seen you. You’ve seemed to make your way into his brain at all times of the day, conscious or not.

“I’m gonna get the girls ready but you don’t need to be late for work again,” Carol says, giving him a smile and wink. After last night, he’s not sure how much longer he can do this. He’s been trying to have sex with Carol more. Sure, she’s his wife but she doesn’t scratch the same itch you did.

He’s tried. He’s tried to be a good husband, he’s tried to be a good dad and he’s exhausted. Dave feels himself becoming more of a shell since you told him to leave.

You’ve made it abundantly clear you want nothing to do with him. He tried to reach out to you, only to have his number blocked. You disabled your doorbell camera after he left that night. You must have known he’d try and look at it on his phone, you knew he had the information for your account. Why wouldn’t he try to look?

What you don’t know is that once Carol takes the girls to school, he gets the second phone hidden in the false bottom of a shoe box in his closet that is an exact copy of your own. He can see who you’re texting, where you’re at, how things at work are going, who you’re hanging out with. It’s become an obsession to check it daily.

—

As he steps out of the shower, Carol shouts up the stairs that she’s leaving with the girls, and the front door closes shortly after. Time to start his day.

Getting dressed in his running gear and snatching his headphones from the dresser. He makes his way to the closet. Finding the shoe box with your duplicated phone.

Texts from your friends, a text from your boss and a missed call from your mom. What catches his eye the most is the notification from some jackass on Tinder. James. Scanning James’ profile he’s definitely not your type: blonde hair, green eyes, gelled back hair, and a full beard.

James, 29

Looking for a girl who just wants to have some fun, if it leads to more that’s cool too. I like hiking, graduated from Harvard, hanging with my bros, anything else hmu

Dave shakes his head as he reads the messages shared between the two of you. He scans reading hellos, good nights, sharing random facts about each other, until he stumbles upon the most recent messages

James: Hello gorgeous 😉

Hello 😊

James: So I’ve been thinking would you wanna meet up? Go get a drink or something?

Sure! 7 good?

James: Awesome! Yeah. Do you know where Sal’s is?

I do! It’s not far from my job

James: Perfect! I’ll see ya then beautiful

No. No way in hell is this James guy meeting up with you. Dave calls the office letting them know he’s taking a personal day, he has some business to take care of.

—

Sal’s is exactly what you expected it to be. Dark, dingey, and small. Not too crowded thankfully, it’s definitely got character though. The random decor on the wall is confusing. You can’t tell if this is supposed to be a sports or a punk bar with the random band posters on the wall along with sports jerseys next to them.

Making your way to the bar you sit down on a stool, flagging down the bartender.

“What’s your poison for the night?” He asks, wiping his hands on the towel he was carrying.

“Jack and Coke,” you say, slipping your hand into your bag to get your wallet out. He makes quick work of mixing the drink and placing it in front of you, handing over your card while you hear the jingle of the door.

“Starting a tab?” The bartender asks, swiping your card.

“No, thank you,” you smile as he hands your card back to you, putting it back in your wallet.

Out of the corner of your eye you can see someone standing a couple stools away. Looking down at your drink, moving the straw around before taking a drink. You take a peek at your watch to see it’s 10 minutes before you’re supposed to meet James.

Maybe this was a bad idea, you haven’t had to do this in months. It was easier when Dave just kind of fell into your life.

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when you heard the familiar timber of his voice, head snapping to look at him. Dave. His smirk as he waits on his drink says it all, he knew you would be here. Was he James?

“Are you fucking serious?” You hiss through your teeth.

Dave thanks the bartender, moving closer to you.

“I come in peace,” Dave says, sitting in the stool one away from you, “All I want to do is talk.”

“Are you James?” You ask through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

“Oh baby,” Dave tuts, “I’m not James, he’s very real.”

You continue to glare at him. Unable to force your brain to work with your limbs on moving, leaving, throwing your drink on him. Anything other than sitting here being in his presence.

“He wasn’t hard to convince to leave you alone though,” Dave looks at you with a smirk, one eyebrow raised and begins to chuckle, “One mention of snapping any finger that touches you sent him running.”

You try to swallow but your throat feels like a desert, gripping the tumbler in front of you and taking a swig. Did he… did he do something to James? Surely not, Dave wouldn’t even kill the spider that appeared in your apartment one day, scooped it up and took it outside. How could he cause harm to anything?

“Dave did you…” pausing pondering how to even ask the question.

“Did I hurt him?” Dave asks, scooting to the stool next to you and leaning in closer, invading your space and you nod your head, “No, just made it known what’s mine.”

You let out a sharp gasp at his words, arousal seeping into the gusset of your underwear, thighs clenching together at his closeness, feeling goosebumps erupt across your skin. This shouldn’t be happening but your body thinks otherwise.

“I’ve missed you baby,” Dave hums into your ear, “Don’t like how we ended things.”

The way he says it has the ice around your heart melting. You hate him but can’t help the way your heart betrays your brain at his words. Dave lets out a small growl, gripping your bare thigh beneath the bar top possessively.

“I’m staying in a hotel room tonight,” he says, the grip on your thigh becoming less and smoothing his hand against your inner thigh. Gliding his hand up, up, up. Pinky finger playing with the edge of your underwear under your skirt.

You grab his hand and pull it away from your core, bringing it to rest on your lap. Lacing your fingers with his, while his thumb rubs along your palm. You sigh, contemplating what to do. Go with him or send him packing like last time. The devil on your shoulder telling you to go with him, it’s just stress relief, it won’t- it can’t mean anything, he knows your body better than anyone else. The angel on the other side just repeating the same words, he’s still married.

In the words of your mother, if he doesn’t cheat with you then he’ll just find someone else. Might as well have fun.

“I’ve missed you too,” you confess with a soft whimper in his ear. Finally seeing him again after months of nothing has your practical sense crumbling.

“Let’s go then,” Dave smirks, standing pulling your hand slightly to stand with him and leave.

—

Dave drove like a bat out of hell to the hotel, dragged you to the elevator and his room as if this was his last chance to have you. Clothes flying off the moment you crossed the threshold of the room.

“Dave,” you moan, his lips ghosting down your neck to your collarbone. His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against his front, feeling his erection against your stomach.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he groans, his mouth sucking the flesh of your breast, capturing your nipple in his mouth and giving it a nip. A whine escapes past your lips at the sudden pressure of his teeth, moving your body with him until you feel the back of your knees hit the bed.

Dave releases your nipple, pushing himself against you to lay back on the bed, making room for himself between your thighs. His dark eyes swimming with lust study your face. His hand comes to rest on your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

“Why’d you let me leave like that?” His voice barely a whisper, lying his forehead against your own.

“You’re married,” you wince hearing the words leave your throat. You shouldn’t be doing this.

“I can change that,” he smirks with a chuckle, kissing the corner of your mouth, “I’d leave if it meant you’d stay,” kissing your jaw, “I’d spend every single day of my life making you happy,” he coos, trailing his lips down to your neck, laving his tongue against your pulse point.

“Dave,” you plead, hoping to stop his words. You don’t want to hear this, it’s all lies to get you to stay. The ache between your thighs begging for more.

“Mean it baby,” Dave says with a hum, mouth traveling down the expanse of your body, “Only want you,” he breathes when his face inches away from your sex, “Looks like you want me too,” he teases.

You feel the warmth spreading through your body as he sighs using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, staring at your glistening slit.

“Oh yeah, she’s definitely missed me,” he hums, flicking his tongue against your clit.

“Dave,” you gasp, gripping the sheets between your fingers. He works his tongue along your bundle of nerves swirling and sucking.

“God I’ve missed this pussy,” Dave growls, gripping your hips tightly before fucking you with his tongue.

“Fuck,” you moan, back arching off the bed. The fire in your abdomen grows more intense. You reach for one of his hands, linking your fingers with his. His other hand moving, fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please,” you beg, “Dave, pl- please. More, I- I need m-“, you cry out when his fingers plunge into your cunt. Swiftly curling them inside you as he moves the pads of his fingers back and forth putting delicious pressure against your g-spot.

“That’s it baby,” Dave groans, nipping your inner thigh, “Let me have it.”

Your toes curl feeling the coil in your lower belly tightening, leaning your head up to watch him. He looks as wrecked as you feel as he rapidly flits his tongue against your clit. His brows furrowed in concentration as he worked his mouth and fingers in sync for you to reach your climax, his lips shiny from your arousal. He opens his eyes to see your mouth hung open in a silent scream, brows pinched together as you pant looking into his eyes.

“Dave,” you pant, “Baby, I’m gonna come.”

Your walls clamp down on his fingers as you stare into his dark orbs. White hot heat spreads throughout your body, letting out a soft shriek.

“Flip over,” Dave instructs, moving your pliable limbs so you’re on your stomach. You cry out as he pushes his cock into you sharply.

“Fuck.”

“Shhh,” Dave tuts, “It’s okay baby, you can take it.”

You whine, it feels like he’s splitting you in two, walls gripping his length. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust before he’s roughly snapping his hips into you.

“Make you mine again,” Dave grunts, “No one else deserves you.”

The pain quickly turns into pleasure as he works his cock in and out. The sound of your squelching pussy filling your ears as strangled noises crawl up your throat.

“God damn baby,” Dave hisses, tilting your hips up as he grinds his hips into you, hitting that spot deep inside only he’s been able to reach.

“Missed this so,” he grunts, slapping your ass, “Fucking,” another slap against your skin, “Much,” another harsh slap before soothing the marks he’s left with his palm.

“Dave,” you let out a choked sob, feeling the pleasure building, thrusting your hips back into him, “Faster.”

“Dirty girl,” Dave hums, gripping your hips again, pounding into your pussy at a frantic pace, “You gonna- oh fuck- come again?”

You can only nod your head weakly, feeling the sizzling pressure in your abdomen start to boil over. Your walls spasming and contracting around his cock. The muscles in your legs tensing before screaming out.

“Oh fuck,” Dave moans, “That’s it baby. Come on my cock. Just like that.”

Dave leans over caging you between his arms, thrusting into your wet heat a half a dozen times before his hips start to lose rhythm and going still, your name tumbling from his lips, letting your walls milk his cock feeling the warmth of his seed paint your walls.

“I really have missed you,” Dave admits slumping against you with a sigh, “So fucking much.”

He kisses your shoulder before pulling out with a hiss. You groan feeling the emptiness before he helps you up, guiding you to the bathroom.

You shower together, taking time to wash each other with delicate touches, and sharing intimate kisses before crawling back into bed with his arms wrapped around you.

You wake sometime in the middle of the night. Dave’s snoring beside you, finding your phone amongst your belongings scattered around the room, you make your way to the bathroom. Looking at Dave sleeping so peacefully from the doorway of the bathroom you can’t help feeling torn. You loved him, still do if you’re being honest with yourself, but this isn’t what you two should be doing.

You find an uber available and schedule to be picked up. Quietly making your way out of the bathroom and grabbing your things when you hear two identical dings. One from your hand and one from Dave’s bag. Slipping your clothes back on you slowly wander over to his things. Rummaging around until you find a phone, similar to yours. Pushing the button on the side you see a notification for an Uber 5 minutes away, looking at your own phone to see it displaying the same.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself, head snapping to look at Dave hoping you didn’t wake him. You look around to find a pen and piece of paper.

—

Dave wakes the next morning with a smile, remembering what happened last night. Sliding his hand to where you should be, feeling the cool sheets under his palm, peeking an eye open to see the empty spot next to him.

He listens closely to his surroundings, hoping to hear the shower but is met only with silence. Frowning as he sits up, scrubbing his hands against his face trying to rub the sleep from his eyes. Looking around the room for any sign of you, taking note of your things being gone.

He sees a folded piece of paper lying on top of something on the dresser. Dave gets up to inspect what it is. His name is on the paper, sitting on top of two phones. Immediately recognizing one as yours and the other the duplicate he had made. His eyes scan the note you left, unable to believe what he was reading.

You’ll never be anything but a lying, cheating, manipulative douchebag. Figure your shit out. Don’t ever reach out to me again.

Dave’s hand curls into a fist as he reads the note over and over again. You left. You really left and this time it’s going to be even harder to find you.

He smirks, shaking his head as he collapses on the edge of the bed. You must not realize how much he loves a challenge.

#dave york #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you

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joelscruff · 7 months ago

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forget my charms (dave york x f!reader) 18+

a/n finally watched equalizer 2 and he's been living in my mind rent free! i don't really know what this is tbh, it was kind of a challenge to myself to try and write a drabble because i'm notoriously bad at keeping fics short & sweet. so i'm not sure how i feel about the lack of real story here but we go anyway! enjoy & please be sure to read the warnings! summary: your new boss gives you a memorable first day. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: fingering, lap sitting, power imbalance, infidelity, unprotected p in v (doggy), creampie, finger sucking, dirty talk, praise kink, tie used as a gag word count: 1.5k

You only met him this morning. It had been brief, his office just one stop of many on your guided tour the first day of your new job. Your co-worker had tapped lightly on his door, opened it a crack and told him he should come meet the new hire. Your stomach had turned when you'd heard him sigh deeply on the other side - you were already feeling out of place, more than a little like a fish out of water, and the concept of disrupting the boss on the first day wasn't appealing in the slightest.

But he'd been gracious. He'd come to the door and opened it wider, stood beneath the arch with an appraising little smile on his lips as he looked at you. It had been memorable, the way he'd taken your hand in his large palm and squeezed, peering at you with something attentive in his eyes, almost... intrigued. Welcome, he'd told you, it's lovely to meet you.

And now, only hours later, his fingers are in your pussy.

Pumping slow and deep, rhythmic and filthy as you lounge in his lap with your legs wide and your head resting languidly against the heat of his neck. He's got your skirt pulled up, one big hand spread firm over your trembling belly while he fucks you with his middle and index. The flickering blue of his computer monitor is your only source of light, showering his office in a dim glow.

You whimper and his fingers still, lodged deep inside your heat. He hushes you softly, strokes your tummy with his thumb and leans back slightly in his chair.

"Shh, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice low and husky, "Don't want the night crew to know what we're doing in here, now do we?"

No, you certainly don't. Can't even imagine what the reaction would be were anyone from the office to know you're being fingered by the boss on your first day. You bite down on your lip and lean back into his lap, look down with hooded eyes as he slowly resumes the slow plunge of his fingers. They're so thick, coated in a clear gloss of your release that glows blue in the light. He places his thumb on your clit, applies pressure, and you let out another pathetic whimper.

"Ohh, poor thing," he admonishes gently, "You want something in your mouth to help you stay quiet?" his hand comes up to brush against your face, "Hm? You need something to suck on?"

Your brain feels empty but you nod anyway, eyelashes fluttering as he wastes no time in slipping the middle and index of his left hand past the wetness of your lips. You suck immediately, closing your eyes and feeling them roll behind your lids as he fucks two of your holes at once, just taking, using.

Is this why I'm here, you can't help but think to yourself, did I only get this job so he could play with me like some kind of doll?

You can't quite believe you're even in this situation. You'd stayed late in order to make a good impression, still had some things you needed to figure out at your desk anyway. Everyone else had slowly trickled out of the office, until you'd realized all that remained was you and Mr. York. He'd smiled at you through the open blinds of his office, leaning back in his chair with his legs wide and his arms stretched behind his head. He'd brought one down when your eyes had met, crooked his finger as if to say, Come here for a minute.

You'd gotten up from your desk and entered his office, anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. You'd hoped you weren't about to be reprimanded for something you thought would impress him.

But he didn't reprimand you. He didn't mention the fact that you were staying late, didn't ask about how the job was treating you, if there was anything you needed, no. Instead, he'd looked you up and down again with that assessing, calculative stare and murmured, "Can you come sit in my lap for a little while, sweetheart?"

You suppose you could've said no. Probably should have, actually. That would have been the most logical thing to do - slam the door and quit your job, maybe even sue for harassment. Anyone else probably would have. But you'd taken one look at his crotch, seen the noticeably thick shape that bulged against his thigh, and realized he'd been sitting there watching you for who knows how long. He'd gotten that hard just from looking, assessing.

Fuck it.

"There you go," he breathes softly now, peering at you with dark and imploring eyes as he fucks your mouth and pussy, "That's a good girl, honey, I know," his brow furrows when you whine around his fingers, "I know, baby. You're doing so good."

He rocks you in his lap like you belong there, and it's impossible not to feel the way his clothed cock throbs against your ass. You want to see it so badly, want to touch it, taste it - but he doesn't give you the opportunity. Instead, he circles his thumb against your clit until you're shaking in his arms, hands gripping anything you can reach - the chair, your knee, his wrist. Your orgasm rolls through you and his fingers muffle the sound of your whines, your gasps, until your bones feel like jelly and your heart has slowed. He stills his movements again and lazily pulls all four fingers out of you, watches you breathe deeply and fall back against him with goosebumps rising on your skin.

"Get up now, baby. Bend over the desk for me," he tells you in that low voice, "Show me your pussy."

You pull yourself out of his lap on extremely shaky legs but obey his orders, inching forward a little to position yourself against his desk. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach back and pull yourself apart for him, show him where his fingers have invaded and explored, opened you up and made you drool.

"Juicy little thing," you hear him murmur, and then his belt buckle is jangling and you know what comes next. Legs still trembling, you keep holding yourself open and push yourself further down onto the desk, skirt pulled high and panties still hanging off one of your ankles.

He's filling you up in no time at all, cock plunged deep to the hilt and so much bigger than you'd anticipated. His tip kisses a spot inside of you that you're not sure anyone's ever been able to reach, and against your own volition you moan, low and long, full of pleasure and desperation.

You hear him tsk somewhere above you, "You really can't stay quiet can you?" He says it softly but it's full of condescension, like it's starting to genuinely bother him. Before you can apologize he's reaching down for something, still bottomed out completely inside of you as his arms and hands seem to do something out of sight. A few seconds later his blue polka dotted tie appears in front of your face, and then he's carefully settling the soft material between your lips, pulling back and tying it meticulously behind your head. A makeshift gag.

"Gotta learn to be quiet when I fuck you, okay?" he breathes, raspy and dark as he slowly pulls his cock from your pussy, only to feed it back to you again just as slow, "You don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

No, sir, you want to whisper, but you can't. All you can do is nod slightly and grip the desk when he starts to fuck you in earnest, thrusting deep and hard before pulling out and doing it all over again. Your thighs quiver and shake against the cool wood, and as you lay there and let him take, you spot something out of the corner of your eye.

A framed picture of a family - his family.

You avert your eyes, turning your head slightly to see where his left hand is gripping your shoulder as he fucks you - you spot the wedding ring immediately. Christ.

But you don't stop it. You don't push him away, you don't leave. Even though you probably should. Even though the logical part of your brain is screaming at you that what's happening really shouldn't be, especially now that you know he's a married man.

You just let him use you. You let him fuck and fill you until he's gripping your hair in his fist and his cock is spasming and pulsing inside of you. You let him release his entire load inside your pussy, bare and messy. And then you let him pull you into his chair, tug the tie from your mouth and situate you back in his lap, still impaled on his cock.

Neither of you speak for a solid minute. He catches his breath while you try not to look at the photograph, to forget its existence entirely.

"The last one quit the first day," you hear him mumble, voice edged with tiredness, "But you won't, will you?" He thrusts shallowly inside of you, holds you against his chest as his cum starts to leak out and dribble down the hefty shape of his balls. "You'll let me do this, huh?"

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into?

#dave york x reader #dave york smut #*

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agentmarcuspike · 6 months ago

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dave york x babysitter!f!reader

summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3

"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"

You hate being alone with Dave York.

There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem.

There’s nothing wrong with him.

Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.

You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.

His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.

The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.

So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.

It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours.

Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today.

This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–

“Hey, hey!”

A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing.

“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”

His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.

“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows.

“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”

He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.

The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.

“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.

“Let me get you some water.”

As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.

“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.

As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.

He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.

Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily.

“What do you do?”

The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness.

“Sorry?”

“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”

He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.

“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”

“I’d be on the run, so not me.”

“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”

“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.

A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.

"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.

The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.

“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.

His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"

“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.

“Just a little surprising, I suppose.”

He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.

“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”

He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.

Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…

Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.

“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.

“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.

“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”

You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.

“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.

His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.

“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”

It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.

Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.

Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.

Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.

“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”

“What?” you breathe.

“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”

You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood.

“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”

“I’m gonna–

Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.

“Fucking… come… on.”

And you do.

Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily.

With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.

And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.

“Daddy!”

Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.

“Dave, I’ll take her–”

But he’s already out the door.

Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans.

You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.

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#dave york #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x female reader #equalizer 2 #my writing #ahhhhhhhHHHHHHH

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milla-frenchy · 2 days ago

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okaaaaayyyyy I'm totally fine 👌

“You want to take a closer look? She doesn’t mind, do you, baby?” His fingers glide towards your neck, squeezing for just a moment. “You don’t mind showing them your slutty little hole, all wet just from licking my balls?”

😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

joke's on me, I'm not 🤯🥵🥵🥵

perfect sequel 😍😍

let them feel

pairing: Dave York x f!reader with a side of whichever Pedro boys you want x f!reader

word count: ~2k

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be grabbed, no use of y/n, dom!dave, exhibitionism, lowkey group sex tbh, rough oral sex (m receiving), fingering, degradation kink, praise kink

a/n: sooo... yesterday the lovely em @luxurychristmaspudding posted this poll with the compelling question in a room full of p boys, who is getting you off (in front of everyone else 👀)?, which led to the lovely daphne @sizzlingcloudmentality posting let them see (go read that asap!), which then led to me asking "hey do you mind if i continue this?" and then writing 2k words in a state that i can only describe as possessed. enjoy <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

“Such a good little slut for me, baby,” he croons and kisses your cheek. “Now get down and clean up.”

You’re still floating from your orgasm, all soft limbs and hazy thoughts, but when Dave speaks, you obey. Always.

The air is heavy with the scent of sex, the room filled with the sound of the others catching their breaths. You feel their eyes on you, burning on your skin. It’s heady, being bare in front of them, your whole body free for them to drink you in. The vulnerability of it is intoxicating you, humiliation swirling with excitement. They’re here to see you. You made them like this.

Dave tuts from behind you, teeth nipping at the lobe of your ear. “I said now.”

You shudder at the sharp bite, your ass grinding against him once more. Flames are already licking at your core again, still demanding more.

A low groan sounds when you turn around, position yourself on all fours in front of Dave. You’re on full display for them, and at the sound, you arch your back a little more, spread your thighs a little wider.

You feel his cum dribbling out of you, for all of them to see. See where he claimed you, made you his. Where he shared a small piece of you with them, and you let him.

Dave’s cock hangs heavy in front of you, coated in the combination of you. The scent engulfs you, musky and filthy. Your mouth waters.

Looking up, your eyes meet his. They’re burning with pride and possessiveness, as one hand cups your cheek, his thumb tracing gently over your skin.

“Not done yet, are you? You wanna show them more, show them how good of a girl you are for me?”

“Yes,” you breathe, locked into his gaze. You’d agree to anything he asks of you.

His lips curl into a smirk at your devotion. His thumb presses down on your bottom lip and slips into your eager mouth easily. You start sucking instinctually. His eyes darken, the smirk growing wider.

“Tell them,” he demands, pulling his thumb back and turning your head until you’re facing over your shoulder, towards them. “Go on.”

Your cheeks burn when you look at them, catch their eyes where they’re locked on you. Some on your face, some still on the mess between your spread legs.

“I want to show you that I’m a good girl,” you whisper, eyelids fluttering with embarrassment.

It earns you a few appreciative chuckles, a “go ahead, sugar,” that has you feeling shy. You turn back to Dave, silently pleading for his praise.

“So good,” he mouths at you as his fingers sink into your hair, directing your mouth to where he wants you.

You start with small kisses, pressed against his thighs, slowly moving closer. Inhaling his scent, the heady intensity of it when you’re so close to him.

You reach the underside of his cock, alternating between kisses and little kitten licks. His skin is sticky against your lips and tongue. The taste of his cum, mixed with the tang of your own arousal, floods your senses. A growl rumbles in his chest, his fingers digging into your scalp. But he doesn’t direct you, just holds onto you, soothing you by making sure you feel him close.

Whimpering at the taste, your tongue glides over his velvety skin. Taking your time, savoring each moment, every inch of him.

A new wave of arousal floods your pussy when you lower your head deeper, your tongue caressing his balls, coated with his cum just like you intended. Your ass rises higher with the shift in your position, and you hear Dave chuckle above you.

You hum against his skin, the vibration causing him to suck air in through his teeth.

“Good girl.” A teasing slap lands against your ass, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, more of his cum dripping out of you. “Spread your legs then, let them see. Wider.”

You hear the shuffle of footsteps, feel their eyes on you, so close to where arousal is spreading through you like wildfire. You could swear that you can feel someone’s breath ghost against your folds, the sensation enough to leave you trembling.

Dazed, you keep lapping at Dave’s skin. His balls are heavy on your tongue, cleaned of his cum and covered in your spit instead. It’s as far as you can go, to claim him like he claims you, to make him yours.

His grip in your hair tightens, pressing you into him, leaving you no choice but to lick and suck where you can reach. Your own saliva is soaking your face, his scent invading your nose, his taste filling your mouth, all your senses overwhelmed by him him him.

The flames keep licking at you, building up ready to consume you, and this is about him, you know it is, but you need more so badly. He lets up, pulling your head back slightly, grinning down at you. You can feel the others, their presence right behind you, close enough to touch. Yet, all you can see is Dave.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dark. He runs a finger over your spit-slicked cheek, collecting the evidence of how completely and utterly he’s ruined you. “Such a messy slut, aren’t you?”

You nod, teeth digging into your lip to keep your arousal at bay, to keep from begging him to touch you.

“Tell them. Tell them what you are.” His hand connects with your cheek in a slap, not strong enough to hurt, but enough to send a moan tumbling from your lips that results in several chuckles from around you.

“Tell us, gorgeous,” one of them rasps, stoking the flames inside of you further.

“I’m—” you begin, shyly turning to face them. They’re towering over you, surrounding you, watching you intently, devouring you with their eyes. A deer in the headlights. You suppress a shudder, another wave of arousal crashing through you. “I’m a messy slut.”

Their cocks are hardening again, a few of them already touching themselves. Because of you.

“Yeah, you are,” Dave coos. Your head flies back to him at the sound of his voice, you can’t help it. It’s like you're tethered to him, like he’s the center of your universe. He’s taking you in, so calm, so patient, his lips pursed like he’s debating what to do with you.

His cock, fully hard again and leaking, is inches from your face. You want to taste him, licking your lips at the sight, saliva flooding your mouth. He can tell. He always can.

“Go ahead, put that whore mouth of yours to use.”

It’s all the permission, all the encouragement you need. You move forward, let your lips part around the swollen head, reveling in the fresh taste of his cum on your tastebuds. Your tongue traces the veins under his velvety skin, curls around the heavy weight of him before sucking him deeper into your mouth, sinking down on him.

It makes it harder for you, giving yourself no time to adjust, but it’s the way he likes it. He wants you slowly licking his balls, face pressed into his skin, debasing yourself, taking your time. But once you reach his cock, his patience runs thin.

Expecting you to give him what he wants. Taking it if you don’t.

“How’d you train her so well?” one of them asks. The longing unmistakable in his voice.

Dave chuckles, thrusting into your mouth particularly hard. He hits the back of your throat, a gargled sound escaping you. Holding himself there for a few seconds, he talks over you, like you’re not even there.

“It’s easy when they’re desperate for it, you just need to find the right girl.” He looks down, smiling at you in mock pity. “She was just asking for it. Weren’t you, baby?”

He doesn’t demand an answer this time, content with the choked hum that you manage to get out.

His cock sinks into your throat again and again, stretching your lips, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Saliva is dribbling down your chin, tears flowing from your eyes. But this is what you wanted, what you needed, to let him use you, to show off how well you take him.

Your hips are humping the air in rhythm with his thrusts, desperate for friction, for something.

“Look at you.” His face is blurry through your tears, but his smile is evident in his voice. “My little slut needs to come again, huh? Insatiable, aren’t you?”

You manage a nod, gagging around him when the movement has him nudging against your throat again.

“Do you want them to touch you?”

It’s a genuine question, one that he’d let you say no to, but saying no is the last thing on your mind. You pull off of him with a gasp, greedily sucking air into your lungs.

“Please, yes! Please, please, please.”

He fills your mouth again instantly, holding your head still as he pounds into you with a new intensity.

“You heard her. Make my girl come.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the tension thick around you, mounting high. Then, you’re overwhelmed with sensations. Their hands are all over you, so big, calloused fingers on your soft skin.

Nails scratch down your back, fingers roughly pinch both your nipples, already pebbled hard with your overwhelming need. It’s just on the right side of pain, racing through your body and mind, transforming into pleasure almost instantly.

Fingers swirl through the sticky mess between your thighs, teasing at your entrance. You buck your hips, trying to get closer while Dave still holds your head, not letting you move back an inch.

“Impatient,” someone chuckles behind you, and the fingers withdraw.

You whine around Dave’s cock, already able to taste your orgasm on your tongue, just a little bit more—

There’s a featherlight touch against your clit, barely there, but it’s like your body is set on fire. Mercifully, the fingers are back at your hole, or maybe they’re someone else’s, you can’t be sure, and you don’t care.

Finally, they sink into you, thick just like Dave’s, squelching with the overflowing wetness, and your eyes roll back into your head. They stretch your fluttering walls, fucking you slowly, deliberately, as you clench around them. Until they find the perfect spot, hitting it just right, over and over.

The touch on your clit intensifies, rubbing tight circles, catapulting you higher still, your whole body at a boiling point.

Then, you shatter. Dave’s cock in your mouth does nothing to muffle your scream, your fingers clawing at his thighs, holding on tight as you’re soaring. They don’t let up, pushing and pulling at you, while your orgasm keeps ripping through your body.

You’re drenched, wetness covering the entirety of your inner thighs, dripping from you when their fingers finally disappear from your cunt.

“Good girl,” Dave groans above you, thrusting into your throat one last time, before his seed spills into your waiting mouth. “My perfect fucking girl, you did so good.”

You’re blissfully hazy as he slowly lowers you down onto the sheets, stroking your head, your face. The others’ hands are still on you, but their demanding touch is gone, replaced with sugary sweet softness, more gentle than you had thought possible.

You close your eyes, content to let yourself sink into waiting arms.

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

#dyrecs #dave york x reader #dave york fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader

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pedgito · 5 months ago

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𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 | Dave York x reader

summary | Dave was the exception to your rule, fortunately. But, he still wanted to do things the right way, his way.

author's note | @pr0ximamidnight is partially responsible for this, constantly feeding me ideas and tiktoks, which birthed this baby.

content warning | 18+ smut, divorced!dave, soft-ish!dave, age gap (unspecified), dating apps, g*n play (consensual), oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, this has an unnecessary amount of backstory, i wrote this during gremlin hours don't judge me

word count —6k

They never make it past the third date. Ever.

Except for Dave.

You’ll give him credit where it was due–he was older, wiser, and more charming than any man who you’ve swept right for on these awful dating apps you’ve tried out in the past year. And by an even crazier chance, you had met him in person; a run-in at a coffee shop that would have usually ended in one of you spilling coffee on the other, but actually ended in him stealing your drink and you his own.

He’d only been halfway paying attention when they called out the order instead of the name, subconsciously assuming he was next, he had swiped it up without a thought and left you dumbstruck and being slid a black coffee with a look of apology from the barista who knew he had just walked off with your drink.

Usually, you would brush it off. Spend another fifteen minutes waiting for a fresh drink, but not that time. You had chased him down, a block from the coffee shop and a sharp right and you were on his heels, his face buried in his phone and the coffee cup hanging from his fingertips in his right hand, clearly undrank.

“Hey,” You shout exasperated, but he doesn’t whip his head around like you expect. You huff, jogging a little closer until you can tap at his shoulder and as if his reflexes had kicked in, he turns on his heels and has a sudden look of annoyance, not much different than the one he held in the coffee shop but his brow was more pinched—until you hold up the coffee cup that belonged to him.

It had a name on the ticket—you looked it over. Dave. Black coffee. Six shots of espresso.

Your eyes widen at the sheer amount and you pass it over, watching as he stuffed his phone in his pocket, “Six shots? That’s—”

“Not nearly enough,” He grumbles, swapping out the drinks with a surprisingly gentle grip.

He’s dressed for work, donning a charcoal gray suit with a maroon button-up. He looks official, stoic, and serious, intimidating in a way that makes you want to shrink away.

He takes a peek at your order before he passes it off completely, smirking slightly at the sheer amount of caffeine you had ordered for yourself—not in the form of a straight black coffee and an insane amount of espresso shots, but it was calling a spade a spade.

You both clearly had your vices.

After that, he’s a familiar face. Someone you see the Monday mornings after a terrible Sunday night date, rubbing at tired eyes as you reach for your coffee, and eventually he finds himself more curious than he should be, wondering how someone at your age could seem so…burdened. Not that it wasn’t possible, but it was clear that you never ended your weekend on a high note, and burying the shittiness under a mountain of sugar and syrup was your way of coping.

Fortunately, the coffee machine had been on the fritz one particular Monday which lent you a moment of conversation that was surprisingly refreshing given your unfamiliarity with each other.

He slaps the back of his phone against his palm as he does a quick glance over your figure, hunched under the protection of your sweater you chew at your bottom lip, staring down at your feet.

“Rough weekend?” He asks casually, looking over at you curiously.

You could smell his aftershave, the rich scent of expensive cologne.

You weren’t sure why he was speaking to you, but you answered anyway.

“That easy to spot?” You volley with him, glancing up at him briefly before leaning into your hip.

“Comes with experience,” He shrugs, seeming far more approachable than you would have expected. You conspicuously track your eyes over him, how perfectly put together he was, not a piece of his outfit out of place, aside from the prominent tan line on his ring finger.

Married. Or…was married. You didn’t feel it was your position to throw that kind of question at a stranger.

“Oh,” You feign intrigue, feeling the words slip out before you can stop them, “plenty of experience in the field of dealing with men who can’t be bothered to hold a thirty minute conversation and expect you to fuck them after the first date?”

You’re expecting him to balk and walk away, wonder what the hell was wrong with you—but instead, he smirks again. More prominent than the first time.

“Sorry,” You apologize meekly, “that was—It’s been a rough morning.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dave brushes it off, his name sounding in your head again as it comes to you, “and no—I don’t, but still—a bad weekend is a bad weekend.”

You raise your eyebrows slightly as you nod in agreement and it is within that small distraction of conversation that the machine comes roaring to life again, but instead of walking toward the counter to order, Dave slips in front of you.

You have half the mind to tell him to fuck off for cutting, but when you hear your coffee order spilling out of his mouth you stare at him wildly, giving him a look of confusion after he pays, scribbling away at a receipt before he turns and walks silently toward the other side of the shop to fetch his coffee order. You follow wordlessly, obediently as he nods at you.

“Consider it returning the favor for the first time I screwed up with our orders,” He tells you, smiling at the barista she slides the two cups into his hands—he shoves yours into your open palm, receipt tucked against the cup with his thumb as it transfers to you, “and fuck those guys.”

You laugh softly, sipping gingerly at your coffee as he departs with a half-smile, footsteps clicking against the tile floor as he departs with a hand shoved into his pocket as he shoulders open the door. The receipt is long forgotten and tucked into your pocket.

It isn’t until hours later as you're throwing your coat over the back of your couch that the paper floats to the floor, staring at you like it had its own set of eyes. You pluck it up curiously and pull apart the crumbled-up ball, noting the smudged black ink scribbled on the back of the receipt.

Third date is the rule, right?

Followed by his name and a haphazardly scribbled number.

So, not married. Definitely not married.

You text him without a second thought, finding that his response is almost immediate.

Suddenly, you needed to know all about him.

—

And you made that your mission.

Texts turn into calls, sparse and spread out but it was kept light in the beginning. General small talk, and occasional flirting, but still you had far too many questions. The one thing you do learn is that he was divorced, not newly, thankfully. It had been a couple of years and he admits very early on that he doesn’t do this often.

Whatever that meant.

He’s older, but you don’t feel the need to address that. He knows you’re in college, mid-twenties, but beyond that, you’re just a puzzle he’s piecing together on his own. Learning about you over the following weeks with a refreshing interest you haven’t been privy to before.

Your first date happens on a Saturday, a late night and last minute plan due to his often changing work schedule. It was shitty food at a small diner in town but it didn’t matter.

Eventually, he does slip up and admit that his work is freelance—but under what pretenses you weren’t sure, always skirting around the subject. And usually, you would see the immediate red flags, but that doesn’t happen. He seemed like a private person and maybe over time…

He doesn’t ask you the much-anticipated question after your first date, but he does kiss you.

It was soft and quick, fleeting in a moment as he walks you to your doorstep and leaves you reaching for more, but all you’re left with is a smug smile as he climbs into his car.

The second date is fancier, a few weeks later between occasion phone calls that would last longer than they needed, but you didn’t mind, sometimes Dave liked listening to the sound of your voice, he’d admitted at one point—Dave had planned this date out in advance at a nice restaurant in the uptown area of the city, giving you dress code requirements, exceptions, and all of it is entirely overwhelming.

But, it fades the moment his hand touches your waist.

There wasn’t a feeling of fear or an immediate urge to run away. It was protection, the warm and steady touch of him at your back just felt safe and it went against every fiber of your being to feel this way about someone so easily. But, the way Dave winks down at you as you fumble with the bracelet hanging loosely around your wrist reminds you that you have nothing to worry about.

The dinner is ridiculous, for you—convoluted meal courses with silly names that have you furrowing your brow in confusion as you look up at Dave who only seems entertained by your amusement, feeding you a piece of the shared dessert with the single fork they had served with the plate. It was intimate and shocking how easily you gave in tointo it and followed his lead.

Trusted him.

You aren’t sure if it was his original plan, but he ended up at your place later that night.

He does walk you to your door again, but you’re not as easy to let him go this time. A few flutes of wine in your system and you’re far too clingy to let him slip away—begging, pleading for a few extra minutes.

“I’ll give you a quick tour,” You tell him softly, a sultry tone to your voice as your bottom lip pulls between your teeth and your hand's slide off the lapel of his peacoat, dragging him backwardinto the door that leads to your apartment building, “seriously—just a few minutes.”

“Sweetheart,” The endearment slips out despite himself, but he doesn’t thwart you off, his hand twisting and intertwining with your own as you lead him toward the elevators.

“Third date rule, remember?” You tell him, smiling sweetly, “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.”

“I’m counting on it.”

—

As promised, Dave only stays for a short time. However, the tour was a total lie.

You kiss him gently as the door closes behind him. Quick, closed-mouth pecks that are driving Dave insane, but he grips your biceps, pulling you back with ease.

“Behave,” The gruffness in his voice brings you back to the surface, “you promised.”

Dave has never lacked self-control, but with you, it was nearly impossible.

Luckily for him, you felt like following your self-set rule, but it doesn’t stop you from cuddling up on your couch for a brief time, a hand combing through his thick, perfectly quaffed hair—though the same couldn’t be said now, slightly askew as he squeezes at your thigh when you pull at a few strands too hard.

“Ask it,” Dave says suddenly, seeing the apprehensive look in your eye, “whatever it is.”

“I’m just curious,” You tell him honestly but quietly, your eyes dragging up his face until they meet his own, “about you—I feel like I know bits and pieces, but nothing…real.”

He grunts, a non-committal response.

“I can keep your secrets,” You tell him like a sacred promise, “no judgment, either.”

His thumb drags over your nose in a sweet, gentle manner before it lands at your chin, cupping the side of your face as he begins to speak in the quiet room.

“I have two kids,” He admits, “—two girls with my ex-wife. We share custody but because of work…it makes it harder to see them often.”

You make a face, one that conveys sadness, a feeling of empathy as his gaze drifts off behind you while his fingers massage gently into the back of your neck.

“Don’t do that,” He pleads, “don’t feel like you need to–”

“You are the first guy in eight months that hasn’t tried to fuck me within two hours of meeting me,” You tell him, a soft giggle bubbling in your throat, “There is no need, Dave.”

“It’s taking…a lot of effort on my behalf,” He admits with a soft laugh, his normal monotone and emotionless face cracking with a smile, “I’m trying.”

“I just—I don’t want you to feel like you need to be careful with me,” You assure him, “I won’t break that easily. I’ve shared with you, I want you to feel like you can do that with me.”

“Tell me something else about yourself then,” He waits, your mind trialing away for a moment, thinking.

“I feel like I never have control over anything—my life, my relationships,” You sigh, “it…it is a lot deeper, I think. But, I don’t know how to fix that. Sometimes it feels pointless.”

Dave nods slowly, and thoughtfully.

“I can teach you control, sweetheart.” Dave assures you, “Do you want that?”

The intensity in his eyes is new, but it doesn’t scare you. Instead, you find yourself nodding obediently. He kisses you that night again, more intensely than he ever has, a hand fisted into your hair, your body curled around him and it is nearly impossible to let him go.

—

The third date is intimate, as you had expected.

He invites you to his place and it takes you a few minutes after hearing him say it for the words to click in your head, until he reiterates it again and you agree eagerly.

It was how you ended up on his couch after a full, delicious meal that Dave had cooked you himself and the drone of a local news channel playing on the television as you curledl up at his side, taking in the sights of his own apartment. It was so…detached. No family pictures, no drawings, no personal artifacts outside of expensive art and sculptures that had to cost more than a month of your own rent, maybe even two.

“How can you afford this?” You ask harmlessly, eyes dragging up to the gaudy chandelier hanging overhead, “I mean, your living room is the size of my entire apartment.”

“I’m not a starving college student,” He jokes, taking your playful jab in stride, “—this is just a temporary space, sweetheart. I…travel a lot for work, I’m only ever here maybe one week out of the month really.”

It explained why your dates were so spaced out and why phone calls and texts were preferred over an in-person meeting. But, he’s still skirting around the topic and it heightens your worry the tiniest bit.

“My turn to ask a question?”

You nod.

“If I had tried to fuck you on the first date, would you have let me?”

You smirk slightly, knowing the answer despite your distaste for the other men.

“I’ve had…really bad experiences any time I break that rule,” You admit, “it’s another situation where I feel like I’m losing control and it quickly turns into something I’m not interested in. I want to say no, but the answer is probably yes.”

Dave’s eyes go pensive, his gaze dragging to the small gap between you both, the arm slung over your shoulder stopping for a moment, but his touch remains, his fingertips against the slope of your neck and he’s fighting something within himself. You can see it.

“Just say it, Dave,” You find yourself pleading with him, “I think we’re beyond the realm of a third date. Whatever it is, I promise not to judge.”

“I know I told you I work freelance, but it’s…more than that,” He looks around, wondering if he should flee now and escape this conversation, but your gaze is heavy and unrelenting, “I used to work for the government, but things happened. Now, people hire me too—”

The gears are working overtime in your head, putting things together as he speaks, and really—it should have been more obvious, that far disconnected from his personal life, and the unwillingness to share information so freely.

“You’re a hitman?” You break the tension and spit out the word he’s dancing so carefully around.

“More or less,” He nods, carefully examining you to gauge your reaction.

“I mean, you’re not just…going around killing innocent people, are you?”

“Only the people that deserve it,” He doesn’t want to go into detail, already seeing the disconnect on your face, “It isn’t—it’s not something I’m doing often and it isn’t shit that I take lightly. It’s also not at all ethical and if you want nothing to do with me now, knowing that, I can respect that—”

“Would you kill me?”

Dave looks at you incredulously, “No—what kind of question is—”

“Then—” You shrug, “it isn’t my business, unless you want to make it my business.”

“You are…something,” Dave says aloud, his thoughts trickling from his mind to his mouth.

You smile, tilting your head as you rest it against the back of his couch.

“Did you still want a lesson in control?” Dave asks curiously.

You nod silently.

“Do you trust me?”

“So much,” You admit, “it’s a little embarrassing.”

Dave sits up then, nodding toward a far-off room you hadn’t been privy to exploring yet.

“Follow me.”

—

His bedroom is large, but it isn’t anything surprising. It’s dull colors and clean, almost sterile. But, you still wander—and he allows it, lingering as he unbuttons his cufflinks and strips himself of his button-up shirt. You run your hands over the soft sheets on his bed and climb on carefully, feeling your dress ride up with the movement, the cold touch of the comforter bringing you back to reality.

“I wanna try something,” Dave admits, tilting his head to meet your gaze from across the room, “—and I need to hear it again, that you trust me.”

“I do,” you nod easily, “I trust you.”

“Take your dress off,” He instructs and you’re slightly confused, but you follow his direction and pull the dress over your head, bare breasts spilling out with the lack of bra you decided to go without and Dave’s gaze lingers, heats up, his movements only slightly more hurried as he works at his slacks, “lay down—close your eyes.”

You laugh quietly at the absurdity of his clinical tone of order, but the weight of him as the mattress dips has your body pulsing at the thought, cunt throbbing at the smallest hint of his smell that you’ve become so accustomed to.

“I’m going to put something in your hand,” Dave tells you, “only open your eyes when I say so, alright?”

You nod obediently and unfurl your hand, feeling a heavy weight press into your palm and another hand trail down the inside of your thigh, squeezing at the junction where your inner thigh meets your cunt, and then his other hand is grabbing your hand, and curling it around the object and your senses do the work for you, unfortunately—

“Dave, is that a—” Your heart races in a panic as your eyes rip open, “is that a fucking gun?”

“Baby, calm down,” He soothes, and weirdly, it works, “the safety is on.”

He retrieves the gun that has fallen from your grip and returns it, dragging the weight up until your hand is resting between your legs, the barrel of the gun pressing into the skin just above his belly button, watching as his bare stomach flexes against the cool touch of the gun. It was then that you had a moment to admire—you figured this line of work required him to keep some kind of strict regime for himself, but it wasn’t clear until now. He’s wide, and broad, but you already knew that much. He’s not ripped in a sense, but he looks—feels strong, his tight grip on the inside of your thigh an immediate sign and he breathes, pushing against the barrel.

“You want control? I’m giving it to you.”

“Dave, this seems a little—”

He guides the barrel down, down, until the weight of it catches against the front of your underwear and guides your hand in slow, careful circles as the tip of the gun catches your clit and you find your pussy quivering at the action, but not out of fear.

You were turned on and Dave knew it.

“I want you to be comfortable around it,” He admits, and oddly, it makes your heart ache, “but if you don’t like this—we can stop.”

You find the gun dragging back toward his abdomen at his words and the smile on his face is immediate. Dave doesn’t move a fucking inch.

“No.”

“There’s my girl.”

His thumb replaces the barrel, rubbing slow circles over your clothed clit, and his eyes are locked on you, somehow managing to make everything else fade in comparison.

“Can I taste you?”

It sounds lewd, more than it should. Like an animal dying for a taste, He can feel the warm, wet spot forming in the patch of underwear covering your cunt and he needs it, but only if you’ll allow it.

You nod, the barrel slowly crawling up his chest as he lowers himself, fingers hooking into your underwear as he pulls them down, tilting his head up to look at you as his warm breath fans over cunt, “Put it against my head,” He suggests rather than orders, and you’re hesitant for a moment before he’s giving you that nudge, his tongue dipping into your cunt without warning as he’s lapping up the center of your pussy, groaning as the barrel presses front and center to his hairline and your back arches, fingers still carefully off the trigger but tightly wrapped around the grip and you moan, so loudly you find yourself trying to muffle the sound with your hand.

“Soundproof,” Dave notes, “don’t hold back, baby.”

He doesn’t either, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he spreads you wide, broad shoulders giving you no relief as he licks, quick and practiced tongue flicks over your clit until you’re keening, the gun trembling in your grip as he presses his head further into the barrel, leaning down until he can slip his tongue inside of you, grunting at the way you cry out, walls pulsing around his tongue.

He pulls away suddenly, featherlight kisses over your pussy, gentle lips over your mound and it feels like it’s all in an effort to tease—you’ve never gone this far before with him but somehow he was already in tune with your body, and frankly, you’ve been waiting too long for this to allow him to drag out your release any longer than you’ll allow.

He grins as the barrel pressed more firmly at the center of his forehead, a silent demand. But, he’s not satisfied.

“Tell me. With your own words.”

“Make me come,” You order him, another firm press, “now.”

He buries his face into your cunt without another word, nose pressed against your clit as you felt yourself clench around the work of his tongue and fingers, the breach of one, as it pushed inside of you, had you squirming under his touch. Your grip on the handle slips but Dave is there, hand wrapping around your own to keep it firm as he hums, lapping you up greedily.

Your eyes are half-open, stuck staring at the plain ceiling as your head tips back, gasp caught in your throat as he doesn’t relent, his mouth moving over your clit to suck, alternating between that and precise flicks of his tongue before you’re curling over the edge with a loud moan, all while Dave’s hand slips to the barrel, keeping at steady while he admires you, the strain in your neck as you shout, legs shaking around his head as he finally gives you some relief, trapping him there as he cleans up the mess between your thighs.

He rises slowly then, gun trailing down until it drags against his chest, watching it indent in his skin until you’re pressing it against the bulge in his boxers, the dark material hugging his thighs and you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, and nod as his fingers trace over his waistband, still unmoving despite your eager eyes.

Take control.

“Take them off,” You tell him, the end of the gun tucking itself between the fabric, a playful smile pulling at your lips, “I wanna taste you, too.”

He hesitates, his palms pressing against your knees as he tilts his head slightly, “This is about you, sweetheart.”

“And what I want is your dick, in my mouth—is that too much to ask?” You pout slightly, dropping the gun to the comforter as you pull at his waistband but his hands stop you—maybe you weren’t as in control as you thought, it was all just metaphorical and Dave was into some weird shit.

“I’ve got…plans, for that,” Dave hints lightly, grinding his bulge into your palm as you press it against his clothed cock, “how about—you let me fuck you? I did make it to the third date, after all.”

He wanted you to be selfish—to soak up all the pleasure he was attempting to offer. He knew your past hookups couldn’t have been great; short three-minute fucks on the bed inside some dirty apartment of the man you had selected for that weekend, this was about you.

He wasn’t trying to control you, but rather guide you.

“Plans?” Your ears perk up as you lean forward, one hand tucked behind you for support as you squeeze at his cock over the fabric, his hand sliding over your neck to caress your cheek, his thumb rubbing over the curve of your lips before tilting your head up, “Who said I keep things going after the third date?”

He can see the inkling of playfulness in your expression as he surges forward suddenly, getting his hands underneath you and pulling your hips over his own, squeezing at your thighs as you instinctively ground yourself down against him, a wet patch forming in his boxers.

“Grab it,” He nods to the lone weapon.

It feels feeble now, just a prop. Sure, it made your heart race at the weight of it in your hand—that it was real, but you knew there was no real danger. Still, you play along.

You pick it up, examining it leisurely as you move your hips, “Have you killed anyone with this?”

Dave nods silently, his eyes following the line from your abdomen to your cunt, watching as your cunt dragged over the material and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted something so badly, his thumbs pushing at his waistband, but the jerk of the gun being set effortlessly in your grip and placed at the center of his chest startles him for a brief moment.

“Say it.”

“Yes,” He answers, “I have—does that scare you?”

You nod absently, helping him as you lift your hips and let him push his underwear down his legs, kicking them off haphazardly as you drag your bare cunt against him and his mouth falls open slightly, his eyes still closely following your face, waiting for your response.

“No,” You shake your head, because as much as it should—it didn’t.

“It turns you on, doesn’t it?” Dave teases, feeling the subtle flex of your fingers into his chest with the hand that you had free, the barrel dragging up slowly until it forced his chin higher, resting just against the center of his throat.

“Maybe,” You reply, “does that scare you?”

“Baby, nothing scares me anymore.”

You flick off the safety in the heat of the moment, but there’s no reaction, not even a flinch.

“I wouldn’t have given you that if I didn’t trust you,” He ignores the way your face softens, a frown forming on your face, “Don’t—don’t worry. You won’t, I know you won’t.”

He guides your hips up as your eyes stay locked on the weapon at his throat, finger off the trigger but your heart is hammering in your chest, afraid that even one small movement would be a mistake. But, there was something in the way his jaw flexed, pressing his throat even further against the end of the gun as he slid into you, hand fisting his cock as your mouth fell open in a silent gasp, sinking further and further, until he was rooted inside of you.

“Don’t think,” He tells you, “just move, baby—take.”

Take it, claim this. Him.

It dawns on you in the heat of the moment, mind partially clouded that this was the craziest thing you’ve ever done, especially for someone you were fucking for the first time.

But weirdly, you felt comfortable—and you knew if you wanted to stop, Dave would allow that. Still, you didn’t.

You rock your hips slowly, free hand gripping his shoulder as his own fingers dig into your skin, aiding in the rise of your hips as his own lifted and smacked into yours with a quickly building intensity. No words were shared, just sounds breathed into each other’s skin.

He trails a hand up the center of you, curled around your face as his thumb presses against your bottom lip, pulling until it touches your teeth and you finally understand, taking the digit into your mouth and sucking.

Dave’s thrusts are rough, precise. It hits a spot so deep inside of you that your entire body aches at the feeling, rubbing against your g-spot with every stroke, feeling your eyes roll back in your head as he forces his thumb down on your tongue, a wordless communication as the the gun slips with you fleeting mind, but he’s there with his hand on the barrel to keep you steady.

“Come,” You command, “come inside of me.”

And his sanity be damned, he was. He didn’t care what the aftermath would bring—he’d do whatever you needed him to, silently praying that you weren’t that reckless.

You wouldn’t have asked otherwise.

Your nails dig into the muscle of his broad shoulder and his hips jerk at the feeling of you squeezing down on him, your thumb hesitantly pulling back at the hammer of the gun—he knows that sound and he feels the vibration of it against his throat as he comes, it hits him like a force.

He grunts through gritted teeth, rocking your hips with every weakened thrust as he pulses inside of you, still having half the mind to swat the gun away carelessly, his demeanor changing on a dime after you’ve had your fill of him. You shout softly as he rolls, trapping you underneath him with his hips and hands, shoving your palms under the pillow, and settling between your legs.

Your first instinct is to reach out, and touch him.

“Don’t,” He warns, “don’t move.”

You freeze, hands squeezing at the silk pillowcase, fabric bunching on your grip as he reaches for the gun.

“I want you to come again,” He demands, flipping the gun in his grip, the barrel pointed at you now.

“Dave—“

“Again,” His eyes flick down, “—get creative.”

You take a shallow breath, eyes pleading.

But, you knew you could. You wanted to, especially with him looking at you so hungrily, unexpectedly pushing his cum back into you with two fingers as you felt it seep out, a touch so delicate that it gives you whiplash against the dark dichotomy of his tone.

“Hold—hold it against me,” You tell him, “please?”

“You’re asking?”

“Do it,” You sound more steady and he moves with hesitation, pressing the tip of the barrel against your swollen clit, already too sensitive and the moment he presses the cold metal there your entire body shutters, mouth dropping open in shock, “fuck—I’m too sensitive.”

“Or I can fuck you with it, is that what you want?”

There’s a brief moment of intrigue that crosses your features and Dave can’t help but chuckle, his cheeks dimpling with the emotion.

“You’re trouble,” He admits, “so much fucking trouble.”

You rock your hips against the hard, but somehow dull edge, knowing that it would only take a few seconds but you were teetering, riding that line and needing more.

“Dave, please—your fingers,” You squirm, eyes squeezing shut as you grip the pillowcase so tight it might rip under the stress, “put them inside of me.”

Thankfully, he does. It’s the crook of his middle finger and the weight of the gun against your clit that pulls you over the edge a second time, vision whiting out as you came and forcing a broken sob from your chest, finding that the emotion floods you in an instant.

It wasn’t sadness, just a feeling that overwhelmed you.

Pleasure, peace, and with Dave staring at you with such adoration you weren’t sure how you’ve gone this long in your life without him.

You sigh shakily, “Fuck, that was intense.”

“Hey, sweetheart, look,” Dave cocks the gun back and your eyes draw to the weapon, showing that it was empty—it had never even been loaded, “it was all about control, alright?”

You laugh lightly, the absurdity of the situation sending you into a temporary delirium. Dave recocks the gun and flicks the safety back on, placing it on his nightstand before he’s tending to you, pulling at your arms and rolling over onto his back. You cuddle against his chest wordlessly, his soothing hands on your back a constant presence as he fumbles for the blanket, covering you both.

“I’ve never done that before,” You admit quietly.

“Did you enjoy it?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking, he already knows the answer.

“I trust you, so much,” You admit, “I don’t even know—“

“I wouldn’t have attempted that on a first date,” Dave tells you, “just so you’re aware.”

“Oh, so the gun has a three date rule, too?”

He knows you’re being coy.

“It has a you rule, sweetheart. If you had said no, I wouldn’t have questioned it.” He tells you, feeling your heart swoon despite the absurdity of the situation, “Being behind the barrel of a gun, pointing it—it’s that surge of adrenaline. The control of the situation. I wanted you to feel that.”

You stay silent, lost in thought as you stare at him, watching as his gaze flicks down at you briefly with a knowing smirk, “Plus, I never would have handed you a loaded gun—not when you don’t know anything about gun safety. Was that your first time holding one?”

You nod meekly, wondering if he was going to feel regret.

“Would you teach me? If I asked?” You ask suddenly.

“How to use one?”

“I mean, is there a better person to ask?”

Dave chuckles dryly, a faint smile showing that quickly disappears.

“I’ll teach you, baby. As long as I get a fourth date.”

“You can have as many as you want. Five. Ten—“

“Careful,” He chided, “there’s still stuff you don’t know. About me.”

“I want to,” You assure him, “in your own time—as much as you’ll tell me. I can wait.”

Dave feels like he’s taking advantage of your kindness, your blind willingness to trust him. But, it has been so long since he’s had this—a confidant, someone who he could connect with without judgment.

He knows you’ll find a reason to run eventually, they always did.

“How do you feel about Paris?” He asks suddenly.

“It’s…pretty? I’ve never been but it seems alright.”

“Are you free next weekend?”

Your eyes widen at the implication.

“Dave—“

“Is that a yes?”

You nod shyly.

“Perfect,” He mouths into your hair, pressing a kiss against the scalp, “pack something fancy to wear.”

“How fancy?”

“Absurdly fancy,” He chuckles.

Because if there was one person who could get you to agree to anything, it was Dave.

#dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x y/n #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #the equalizer 2 #dave york smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #my writing #literally who am i writing for DAVE

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 3 months ago

Text

slow

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~1.7k

summary: Dave is not the type for slow morning sex and struggles his way through cock warming. He's just a guy <3

warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, cock warming, pussy pronouns, pet name (honey), female masturbation (teensy tiny bit), a couple of affectionate ass smacks, Dave trying to be a strong man™️ and not fuck you silly

a/n: it started as a blurb but it got big. Sorry not sorry. Don't come for me, come for him. Literally. Even if he says no. Forever and always grateful for @guiltyasdave for the hyping and the beta. 💛

divider: @saradika-graphics

There is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave. Slow evenings and nights, yes. But not the mornings.

The mornings are for getting up early, going for a run, taking a shower, getting ready and giving you a forehead kiss while he's already halfway through the door on his way to work.

And it's not that you didn't try to get up as early as him, tried to make him breakfast, tried to bring him a coffee to bed before his alarm even went off. You did all this and he was grateful.

But you disturbed his morning ritual, and his rituals are sacred. If one thing doesn't go like the ritual dictates, his whole day feels off.

He knows you crave the slow mornings. With coffee in bed and his cock in your pussy. But he simply can't. Dave is a creature of habit and you know that, accept it and support him by not being in his way.

But when Dave got the opportunity to work from home for a day a week he agreed immediately. Not because he is a big fan of working from home, he prefers the office setting by far. But Dave knew it would make you happy to see him during the day, maybe eating lunch together, maybe having a coffee break in the kitchen.

The first day of working remote comes and everything happens as always. Getting up, going for a run, taking a shower, he even puts on his suit. You get the kiss on your forehead while you are still tangled up in the bed sheets.

It's not even 6:30 in the morning and Dave is already having a call with someone somewhere in Europe. You hear his voice faintly, it creeps around the corners of the hallway, paired with the smell of coffee.

The words are inaudible but the sound of his voice... You sigh and your hand slowly snakes between your legs, just like the authoritative tone, his professional laughter, the competence oozing from him. It's not about making yourself come to his voice, it's about the pleasure and comfort of knowing him close to you today.

With your movements too sluggish and too modest you slowly drift into sleep again. When Dave opens the door to the bedroom with a coffee for you, he finds you like this, sleeping on your side with one hand in your panties.

He doesn't have the time, he's having another call in 15 minutes but God, this is so tempting. You are so tempting. He's torn between waking you up and handing you your coffee or waking you up and making you moan.

His dick twitches at the thought and his free hand tugs himself back in place.

He's in control of every aspect of his life. Even you, because you gladly play after his rules. But his dick... that's the one thing he has little control over, especially when it comes to you.

Dave doesn't like being weak, being put in his place because clearly, his place is at the top and no one else puts him there but himself.

But for you? He's weak for you. He's soft for you, and tender, and it scares him sometimes. If you knew how much you have him wrapped around your finger, you could easily use it to your advantage.

You wouldn't do it. He knows that. You're good, good for him, good to him, his good girl. Maybe too good for him.

He shoves the thought aside and seizes your ankle, a touch between a tickle and a pull. You stir in your half sleep and his cock stirs in his briefs.

God, he's so fuckin' weak for you.

He paws at you, at your soft calf, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed while you sleepily turn onto your stomach, sweetly groaning and whining.

"Wake up," he orders, still in work mode, used to be obeyed for payment and you groan again because his command reverberates in your achingly empty cunt.

"I'm awake," you murmur and feel his ridiculously large hands gripping your hip and hoisting you up on your knees. One hand follows the curve of your spine between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest back onto the mattress, the other hand impatiently tugs and pulls your panties to the side.

"That's what you do all morning when I'm not at home? Playing with yourself?" His palm lands on your ass, it's not painful, you know he simply likes the visual of your soft flesh jiggling and rippling under the impact of his body.

A clink of his belt buckle, the low hiss of his zipper, the grunt when he pulls himself out of his boxers and pumps himself out of habit.

"Answer me." Another order and you clench.

"No. I don't." You arch your back more, stick your ass out more, not caring about how needy you are already after just waking up.

"Such a shame," Dave murmurs and gives you another smack, kneading your ass cheek until he pulls you open for him.

"You really should play with yourself. Gets you nice and ready for me."

He checks the clock. T-10 until the next call. Fuck. No slow morning for you and him, again.

He nudges his tip between your folds and runs up and down and up and down again and again to hear your sweet gasps and whines and pleas. Oh he lives for the muffled please, please, fuck me.

The thick head of his cock disappears inside of you, welcomed by the squeezes of your cunt. You're still sleepy but she's wide awake. She always is for him.

“Sorry, honey, got no time to properly fuck you,” he mutters and slowly, painfully slow, pushes into you. Torturous for you and for him. He gives you the time to stretch around him, to fully wake up to his cock buried in your tight heat. And he allows himself the luxury to hide his own neediness behind your back.

Your warm, soft butt pressed against him, your sleep-warmth seeping through the fabric of his slacks. Your cute cotton panties pushed to the side, the waistband cutting into your plush hips… Dave's thighs twitch from the effort of not pulling out and thrusting back into your pussy again. “Just need to feel you. Just for a couple of minutes. Don't!”

A sharp clap echoes through the room when you try to rock your hips against Dave. He kneads the stinging skin on your butt, already feeling a little sorry. So. Fucking. Weak.

“Can't have you ruin my slacks.” Can't have me giving in.

He needs a lesson in discipline. In staying strong. He can't run around, always hard, just because you're in the same room and breathing. He can't be a slave to your cunt, even though he is.

Another glance at the clock, he has five minutes left at best. Five minutes to stay strong. But you don't need to suffer, you did nothing wrong.

Dave doesn't move, doesn't budge an inch, his jaw is clenched and every time your sweet little pussy clamps down on him he grunts. He won't move. Need. To stay. Strong.

You're being so good. You just stay still, needy, sleepy, confused. Why won't he move? Not even a little bit? His hands run over your back, so damn slow, the weight of his palms heavy on your skin, his blunt nails barely grazing you.

“Touch yourself for me, sweet girl,” he grits through his teeth, thinking he might be able to endure the next phase of his stupid self-inflicted disciplinary action. “But don't move, do you understand?”

You nod your head, your cheek rubbing against the bed sheets that smell like you and Dave. “Yes,” you murmur and when your fingers find your clit you bite into the sheets, groaning out another ‘yes’ with drawing tight circles over your sensitive bud.

You clench around him, gripping him and your already tight and snug cunt starts feeling like Dave's personal heaven. If only he could fuck you thoroughly. Don't.

He grips the flesh of your rear again, concealing his trembling fingers with pulling and holding you close against him. God, the way you squeeze him, the way he fits so perfectly…

Dave always enjoyed cock warming. Nothing better than having you sit on him, needy and soaking, while watching a movie or eating dinner, balls deep inside of you. But not today. Today is torture. Today he is the one not being allowed to feel too much pleasure.

But you, on the other hand, enjoy yourself immensely. It isn't ideal, you like the movement more, the friction, the pounding, the way your whole body gets shaken with every thrust. But being stuffed full and working on yourself is nice, too. Really nice. Every one of his throbs and his hissed curses push you closer to the edge. Just a little bit more, just a little longer, just a-

“Oh hell no,” he snarls and pulls his hips back, both of you wince when the connection between you breaks. “Didn't tell you to finish.” He knows you well, knows exactly how your cunt acts when you're about to come. And he knows his dick, this traitor. The weak link.

“Dave… Please?” You whine, wiggling your ass for him, offering your bare self to him, trying to lure him back into you and a bead of sweat trickles down his forehead. He's so needy, he hates it.

“Not this time, honey, sorry.” His cock is covered in your arousal, glistening, coated from the tip to his balls, but he doesn't bother wiping himself clean. He simply pulls his briefs and slacks back up, his fingers tenderly drum on your butt one last time before he turns for the door as if he was on the run.

The fucking call starts in two minutes. He feels your sticky slick messing up his briefs, he knows he's leaking. Your cunt, that's what he will smell the whole time, every time he spreads his legs. He will actually smell you all day long.

That'll do it, though. Teach him the lesson about discipline. Because he surely can't be this hard the whole day. He won't be weak for you the whole day. He won't give in to his dick that so desperately wants to be buried in any of your holes.

Turns out, he's not hard the whole day. Just until lunchtime, when he finds you in the kitchen and asks you to get on your knees because you have to clean up your mess you left on him.

There truly is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave.

reblog and/or comment to warm Dave's cock (or to make me happy, whatever you like best, I'm not judging)(I'm deffo keeping his cock warm, sorry @/myself)

find my Dave York masterlist here

read part 2 slower here

part of the in the sheets collection

find my general masterlist here

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #pedro pascal #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #the equalizer 2 #my writing

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punkshort · 2 months ago

Text

Can You Remember Who You Were?

Pairing: Dave York x f!reader

Summary: When you struggle to stop obsessing about the handsome stranger you met at a coffee shop who ghosted you after one date, fate eventually forces you back together.

Warnings: language, possessive behavior, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, oral sex (f!receiving), omegaverse dynamics, alcohol consumption, minor physical altercation

WC: 9.1K

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

A/N: For @burntheedges's Roll a Trope challenge I got reincarnation. I also mixed in some a/b/o stuff because I've always wanted to give it a try. Go easy on me, I'm nervous about this one - hope you enjoy. And thank you to @txtattoostark for holding my hand.

When you first met, it was happenstance. An awkward run-in at your favorite coffee shop where he thought your coffee was his until he read your name written on the cup aloud and had the grace to look bashful when he handed it over. A moment later, his own order was ready and you caught the name Dave scrawled on the side. He smiled and raised his cup to you before taking a sip and wishing you a good day before disappearing out onto the busy street.

It was a simple interaction. Nothing terribly special. But you couldn't stop thinking about him the rest of the day.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

Dave, with the soft, gentle brown eyes. Dave, with the chiseled, clean shaven jaw and strong, angular nose. Dave, with the broad shoulders that strained underneath his blue button-down shirt. Dave, with the bare ring finger that still had a visible, yet faded, tan line.

Something about him stuck with you. You felt drawn to him. Connected, somehow, yet you didn't even know him.

After the weekend passed, you managed to clear him from your mind, if only because you stayed as busy as possible. You cleaned your apartment top to bottom. You went to a concert for a band you didn't even like with your friends. You even called your parents and suffered through another phone call where you heard about your brother and sister's lives, how their respective children were, how your brother got a promotion and your sister was thinking of having a third baby. The unspoken question hung heavy in the air, your parents already knowing the answer and predicting your negative reaction by now, so it remained unsaid. But it still stung to be compared to your siblings in that way. Your parents had a skewed notion that maybe it would encourage you to try a little harder if they kept pointing out your brother's success and your sister's natural instinct for motherhood, but it only made you draw into yourself tighter.

Once it was Monday again, you dragged yourself to work. You were so tired from your overly busy weekend that you didn't even think about Dave when you entered the coffee shop. You stood in line, zoning out and in desperate need of caffeine when the door swung open and shut behind you and the sound of dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floors neared.

"Promise not to steal your coffee again."

You swiveled around, eyes wide and heart rattling in your chest when you fixed your gaze on none other than Dave. And much to your dismay, he looked even better than you remembered.

"Oh," you squeaked, subconsciously fixing your hair and glancing around to buy yourself a moment to recover. "Hi again. Two days in a row, what are the odds?" you chuckled dryly, hoping you didn't sound as stupid as you felt. Dave shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled down at you.

"Could've been four but I guess you don't come here on the weekends."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you struggled to respond. Dave took that to mean he caused you offense and quickly rectified it, not wanting to sound like a stalker.

"I'm just kidding."

You laughed and rubbed the scar on the back of your neck, your head spinning. Was he just kidding? Did he come here over the weekend? And if he did, was he hoping to run into you?

"I work around the corner," you explained, telling him the company you worked for. Your mother would have scolded you for telling a stranger where you worked, especially one who might have just admitted to coming to the coffee shop in the hopes of running into you, but you knew it was safe. You didn't know how you knew, you just knew.

Dave nodded and was about to speak when the barista ushered you forward so you could place your order. Before you had a chance to pull out your wallet, Dave leaned over you to tell the barista you were together and added his order before handing over his card.

You couldn't stop the shudder that went down your spine when you heard him speak so close to you, the vibrations of his voice sending a current of electricity through you. At this distance, you could practically smell him, too, and it wasn't just his cologne. It was something else that you couldn't identify but had you weak in the knees.

To be polite, you turned to deny his offer, but he spoke first. And when he did, telling you not to argue and he was happy to do it, his voice deepened and the timber alone caused your body to weaken and your eyes cast down obediently.

"Do you work around here, too?" you asked once you got your coffees and you thanked him for the third time.

"No, I don't."

He walked towards the door and held it open for you, a fourth thank you slipping from your lips. You got the feeling he liked hearing you so thankful and sweet. He smiled every time you said it.

"What brings you out this way, then? Do you live nearby? I don't think I've seen you here before."

Dave walked you to the corner where a shiny, black BMW sat parked.

"Let's just say there's something about the atmosphere I like at this place."

Your face flushed and you took a sip from your coffee, burning your tongue in the process, while you tried to think of something to say. Then you heard the bells from a nearby church and you were stricken with panic.

"Oh, shit! It's already eight?" you asked, yanking your phone out to check the time. You were already late and you still had a ten minute walk ahead of you.

"Come on, get in," Dave said, holding open the passenger side door. "I'll drop you off. You said it's just down the street?"

You contemplated his offer for about three seconds before nodding and jumping into his car. In only took him about two minutes to drop you off in front of your building but you couldn't stop thanking him the entire way, something that continued to delight him.

The rest of the week followed the same pattern. You showed up at your usual time and mysteriously, Dave would appear within a few minutes. He would insist on buying your coffee and on nice days, he would walk you to work. If it was rainy or windy, he would drive you.

By Friday he finally asked for your number and by Saturday you were getting ready for your first date.

Shannon was your age but she always seemed to be so much wiser and grounded. She had a very different view on life, but she was sweet and fun and you got along the moment you met. While you were used to going out to bars on a Friday night, Shannon preferred to stay in and read about horoscopes, take stock of her essential oils, do some light yoga, or scour eBay for rare crystals. You thought she was a hippie, she preferred spiritually inclined.

Regardless of your differences, she still was a wonderful person and was always there for you. Whether you were going through a bad breakup or upset about something your mom said, she would always be there to listen, rub your back, and kindly suggest a way to unblock your chakra.

You had a handful of other friends who would gladly come over and drink wine while you tried on outfits and help with your makeup, but that wasn't what you needed. You had something else entirely on your mind and you couldn't think of anyone else who might be able to help besides Shannon.

"I've been having dreams."

Shannon raised an eyebrow so far up, it got lost under her curly blonde bangs and thick rimmed glasses.

"What sort of dreams?"

You sighed and sat down on the edge of your bed, your dress partially zipped. "About Dave. And me. And it's just... strange."

Shannon shifted a bit on your mattress, her clunky jade bracelets knocking together in the process. "Go on."

"It feels like a reoccurring dream, but it's not exactly the same. The feeling is the same, though."

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "And what are you doing in these dreams?"

Your face warmed up and you stared at the floor when you said, "Well, we're having sex. But it's not just sex. It's different. Like," you waved your hands in the air as you struggled to come up with an explanation. "I know this will sound crazy, but it feels like in my dreams, we have more of a connection. Like, a purpose or something? And in my dreams it feels so much more intense compared to other guys I've slept with."

"How so?"

You had to give her credit. Shannon was too kind to ever tease you.

"Intense like... if we don't fuck, I'll go certifiably insane."

"Oh," she said, nodding her head, completely unphased. "Interesting. It kind of sounds like something I've read about once before. Have you ever heard of -"

Your doorbell buzzed and you leapt off the bed. "Oh, my god! Zip me up! He's here!"

When you flung your front door open, Dave spun around with a smile, one which widened when his eyes drifted appreciatively up and down your frame.

"Hey," you said breathlessly, feeling that magnetic pull low in your belly again just at the mere sight of him.

"You look beautiful," he told you, and just as he was about to lean in and kiss your cheek, he spotted Shannon emerge from your bedroom behind you with a little wave.

"Oh, this is my friend, she was helping me get ready," you said, turning to introduce them while you grabbed a leather jacket and your purse.

"Have a great time, I'll lock up when I leave."

You both thanked her before heading outside towards Dave's car. His arm naturally found its place protectively around your waist and you practically glowed from his touch.

Dave picked a restaurant that you'd never heard of and when you walked inside, you quickly figured out why. It was easily the fanciest place you had ever eaten and if it wasn't for his reassuring touch or warm smile, you would have felt out of place. But once you sat down, the rest of the room melted away and it was just the two of you in your own little world. The entire time you both were leaning across the table, bodies pulling closer and closer on their own accord as you absorbed every little detail about each other. You learned Dave used to be in the military and now works as an operative in the CIA, something that should have intimidated you but it just made him more attractive. He was a protector, he knew how to handle himself and he was smart, qualities which turned you on and had you yearning for more.

When he admitted to being recently divorced, the hairs on your arm stood up and jealousy bloomed hot in your chest. The sudden idea of him with another partner unlocked something inside you that screamed mine, mine, mine.

By all accounts, your first date was perfect. There was never any lack of topics for conversation, you always felt perfectly at ease and safe, and it went by way too fast even though you were the last table to leave the restaurant.

But when he dropped you off and walked you to your door, something changed from that point forward. He kissed you, gently and sweetly at first, but when your lips brushed together for the very first time it set something on fire inside you that you couldn't ignore. You had no idea how it happened, but the next thing you knew he was pinning you up against your door, your wrists captured in each of his massive hands and held next to your head while his tongue licked aggressively into your mouth.

Then you released a little whimper, a little cry against his mouth and it nearly brought him to his knees. The needy sound reverberated through his entire being and had him forgetting who he was, where he was, what planet he was on because that little sound had his body and mind responding in a way he couldn't explain.

And it frightened him.

He pulled away and put some distance between you, palm dragging over his wet mouth, eyes hungrily devouring your wrecked state. Still leaning against the door, you panted heavily and stared at him through heavy lidded eyes.

He scratched at something invisible behind his ear and took a deep, steadying breath.

"I should go."

You frowned, still trying to catch your breath. "W-what? Was it something -"

Dave quickly shook his head and stepped further away.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," he promised, then turned on his heel, practically running back to his car while you stood there, completely dumbfounded.

As it turned out, you did not hear from him the following day. Nor did you see him at your coffee spot the entire fucking week. By Tuesday, after sending a few pathetic texts that went unanswered, you forced yourself to accept reality.

Dave ghosted you and you would never see him again.

It was just one date. You only knew him for a week but it felt like so much more and you couldn't help but be torn up about it.

On Tuesday night, you called Shannon to tell her. You did your best not to cry but she could hear it in your voice.

"It felt like such a strong connection, you know?" you said sadly, plucking at a loose thread on your sweater.

"Well, what do you think happened?"

You shrugged and tossed yourself backwards onto your bed. "I don't know. The date went great, he dropped me off at the front door, we were kissing and things were getting heated and then all of the sudden, just -" you snapped your fingers. "He had to leave. Said he would talk to me the next day and I never heard from him again."

You heard her hum on the other end and clink a spoon in her mug. "Suppose my silly theory was wrong, then."

"What theory?"

"The dreams you were having and the feelings you were describing sounded like something I've read in one of my books, I wondered if it were real."

One of her books. You rolled your eyes, knowing she had a very strange collection of reference material spanning from meditation and Hinduism to books about Karma and the Kama Sutra.

Even so, you humored her and let her continue.

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked. You hid your scoff behind your hand and cleared your throat.

"Uh, can't say that I do."

"That's okay, I know it's a bit out there, but it sounds very much like you might have a connection with this man that supersedes this earthly plane. And what I mean is, you may be destined to be together."

"Like, soulmates?" you asked dubiously.

"Mmm, not exactly. What I'm thinking is a little more physical. I have a book that talks about reincarnation and the ability to imprint on another person to the degree where the link follows you throughout all your lives. If it's at all possible, you will always find each other. Although it's usually pretty rare..."

"What do you mean, if it's possible?"

Shannon flipped through some pages of a book, humming under her breath before she said, "Well, if one of you comes back as a bear and the other a human, odds are it won't be a happy reunion."

You couldn't help it, you had to laugh. Shannon wasn't offended. She knew you didn't mean any disrespect and her beliefs were a little more difficult for others to understand.

"Okay, thank you. I needed a reality check," you said with a smile. "I hear what you're saying: we just met and there's zero reason for me to be acting this way."

"No, that's not at all what I mean," Shannon replied. "I haven't actually known anyone personally who went through something like this, but I've read about this phenomenon online."

"Alright, this is getting a little too weird, even for me," you said, sitting up in bed.

"Just Google it!" Shannon told you before you finished your call. "Read what others have said and see if you can relate."

You promised her you would give it a try the next day but you never got around to it. Instead, you went back to moping and staring at your ignored texts to Dave for the rest of the week.

By the time Friday came, you were ready to blow off some steam, refusing to spend another night wasting away over some man who just happened to be an insanely good kisser and whose scent you couldn't erase from your memory.

You agreed to go out with a small group of girls after work. The alcohol buzzing in your veins and the loud music in the bar helped you forget about Dave, but when other men approached you to dance, you just couldn't do it. You politely turned them down and stayed with your co-workers, Dave's rejection still leaving its mark on you. You listened to them complain about a team lead they couldn't stand who got a promotion she didn't deserve and then, as they began to drink a little more, discussed the finer qualities of the cute guy in the mail room.

In retrospect, leaving by yourself when you became too tired wasn't the best choice. You had a longer walk back to your bus stop than usual and it was eerily quiet out, but you wrapped your arms around yourself and kept your head down. And it almost worked, too, until you heard a familiar voice behind you.

"Need a ride, pretty girl?"

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up and you kept pushing forward after tossing a no, thanks over your shoulder.

"Don't need to be rude," the voice replied, now much closer. You glanced around nervously and didn't see another soul on the street. Only parked cars.

You moved faster but it wasn't good enough. A hand clasped onto your shoulder, grip firm and frightening, and fear shot through you. You broke out into a cold sweat when he pushed you against a building, caging you in and leering down at you, his sour breath poisoned by alcohol. You recognized him as someone from the bar but before you had a chance to process anything else, two massive hands dug into his shoulders and yanked him away in the blink of an eye.

You shirked away when you heard a fist meeting soft tissue, then the clattering of teeth and a pained groan. Your savior's voice growled threateningly, warning the man to get the fuck out of here before I put you in the goddamn hospital, then you heard the squeaking of shoes against concrete and hurried, retreating footsteps down the street.

You were scared. He could sense it. He could fucking smell it. It made his skin crawl and his stomach turn.

Dave's voice was so deep and gravelly, you didn't even recognize him. Not until he crouched in front of you on the street, his dark eyes filled with worry as they scanned your face for any injury did you realize it was even him. Tears welled up in your eyes and he cupped your face. He looked like he was in extreme pain as he watched your tears begin to fall. He then stood, scooping you up so he could carry you to a nearby parked car.

"I'm going to take you home," he said when he placed you gently in the front seat. You had about fifteen seconds to gather your thoughts while he hurried around to the other side of his car.

"Why are you here, Dave?" you asked when he turned his key in the ignition. He paused momentarily before putting his seatbelt on and merging onto the empty street.

"Right place, right time," he muttered. He was gripping the steering wheel so tight, his knuckles turned white. You watched him closely from the passenger seat, not believing him for one second but for some inexplicable reason, it didn't frighten you. In fact, you liked it. The idea of Dave being nearby, possibly watching you, made you feel safe and protected, although you hardly knew him.

You took a deep breath, about to muster up the courage to ask him why he had ignored you all week when you were suddenly overwhelmed with his scent. You couldn't describe it but it was a smell uniquely tied to him. You made a little noise in the back of your throat and squirmed in your seat, desperately trying to stay focused and present, but your body had other plans.

Dave's eyes shifted to you, his nostrils flaring at the way your legs rubbed together and your breath picked up and then he smelled it: the first scent of your arousal in the air. That was all it took for him to forget who he was and succumb to his baser instincts.

His cock throbbed painfully hard in his jeans and his molars were practically ground to dust by the time he arrived at your apartment. You fumbled with the seatbelt, desperate to disappear inside and pretend this embarrassing interaction never happened, but you weren't fast enough. Dave had gotten out of the car so quickly that he was already yanking your door open and violently pulling the seatbelt away from your waist. You blinked up at him as if you were trying to clear your vision and jumped out of the car.

Something felt wrong.

You had an ache between your legs that was growing impossible to ignore and your brain was a hazy, swirly mess being so close to his scent. Did someone spike your drink at the bar?

"Thanks," you whispered, chest rising and falling faster as you tried to drag in more air. Your skin was far too sensitive. All you could think about was getting inside before you tore your clothes off in the middle of the parking lot. "I'll, um, see you around, I guess."

He nodded, his neck and cheeks tinted pink as he stared down at you hungrily. "Wait," he croaked when you made a move to leave, eyes burning red hot into you. "Can we - can I explain - fuck," he winced, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to block your scent from his nostrils so he could take a second to fucking think. He felt like he was going insane and he had no idea why.

"You wanna come inside and explain why you haven't talked to me in a week?" you asked bitterly, your arousal temporarily forgotten. "Why you've been ignoring me? Why you made me feel terrible? I was out tonight trying to forget you, Dave. I was hoping it would be the first night all week I didn't cry, but it's too late for that."

He swallowed thickly, eyes all wide and filled with despair as he gazed down at you. "I made you cry?" he asked softly. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him that he failed, that he did the one fucking thing he shouldn't have done.

You huffed and crossed your arms before looking away. "You hurt my feelings, Dave," you mumbled.

His heart lurched in his chest and he took a step forward to gently cup your face. Despite your anger, you gazed up at him with glassy eyes and almost immediately melted into his touch.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. Will you let me explain?"

Reluctantly, you nodded and allowed him to trail after you to your front door.

You flicked the lights on in your kitchen and living room before turning around. Dave stood there looking too big in your average sized apartment, gaze drifting over your walls, your pictures, your plants, your life.

With a little distance, he could feel the clouds clearing and his senses returning, so he took a steadying breath before speaking.

"About last week," he began. You were in the middle of closing your curtains when you turned around to listen. "I didn't want to scare you, but something happened to me that night." You frowned, pulling the curtains closed the rest of the way and took a few steps towards him. Almost instantly he could smell you again, the wetness between your legs practically calling to him, and he quickly held up both hands so you would stop.

"You gotta stay over there," he warned. Hurt flickered over your face but you obeyed and stepped back until you were by the window again. After a moment, the air cleared enough so he could focus and he slowly dropped his hands back to his sides. He was so hard, it almost made him sick.

"I'm sorry," he said once again. "That's part of what I'm talking about. When you're close to me," he pursed his lips and dropped his chin to his chest while you patiently waited for him to continue. "When you're close to me, I can't fucking think straight. And I know it sounds dramatic," he chuckled, looking back up at you across the room. "I know it sounds like I'm making it up but I promise you, I'm not."

"I think I know what you mean," you said softly after a quiet moment. His eyebrows raised a bit, curious for you to elaborate. "It's like... your scent."

"Yes!" Dave exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I don't understand it but you're giving off a scent and it's doing something to me. Something that frightens me."

You swallowed nervously and took a small step forward.

"Would you... hurt me?"

Dave's eyes went wide and he vigorously shook his head.

"No," he whispered, "never."

You took another step forward and his eyes flickered down to your feet.

"Then what would you do to me?"

His eyes slid shut and he crossed his arms over his chest. What wouldn't he do to you? He would bury his face between your legs until you screamed his name. He would stuff you full of his cock over and over, as many times as you could take it. He wanted to leave love bites all over your body so anyone looking at you would know you're his.

But that would be absurd. You just met and only had one date.

Without even needing to open his eyes, he knew you were closer. The thick smell of your slick filled the air, swirling around him, driving him to the brink of insanity until he was convinced the only cure would be to fuck you senseless.

"I feel it, too, Dave," you whispered, your hands coming up to pull lightly on his arms, unknotting them from their protective place over his chest. You nipped hesitantly at his neck, your lips puckering over his tanned skin, and he felt his resolve crumble.

"Fuck, what is this?" he breathed, his body pulling him forward. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. His mouth pressed into your hair, deeply breathing in your scent, then he dragged his mouth lower. His tongue flicked out to taste your skin, the burst of flavor - you - making his head swim the closer he got to the back of your neck. Before he reached the scar you kept hidden by your hair, he pulled back, gasping for air.

"Come with me," you said with heavy lidded eyes and wet, parted lips. He nodded and followed you, logic and reason fading with each step. He had never felt like this before. It felt like he was being driven by pure instinct, like some kind of animal.

Dave swallowed when you pulled your shirt over your head as you walked, your bare back teasing him with what he could not yet see. Then you worked on your pants, unbuttoning and shimmying out of them as you approached your bed. His cock strained against the metal zipper of his jeans, begging to be touched, begging to be buried deep inside your soaked cunt. And it was soaked. He could see your dampness darkening the fabric of your underwear when you bent forward.

Finally, you turned to face him wearing nothing but your panties and a nervous smile. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat while his gaze drifted slowly down your body, taking in every soft curve and slope while he began to unbutton his shirt.

"You're perfect," he said lowly, shrugging off his shirt before his hands found his belt. "I want you so fucking bad, sweetheart, it hurts. I want to make you mine, make you scream my name til it's the only word you ever remember. I want to fill you up so you're feeling me for days. Want to give you everything you could ever need. Then I want to do it all over again."

Your knees felt weak as you felt another wave of arousal spread through your stomach and between your legs. Shakily, you crawled onto the bed as Dave approached like a predator from the doorway, shedding his clothes and pinning you with an intense stare that, if it were anyone else, would make you nervous.

"You want all that?" he asked you. You were nodding but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the bulge straining in his boxers now that he stepped out of his pants. "Say it," he commanded, and something about his tone made your eyes snap up to his and your spine immediately straighten.

"Yes. I want it. I want you," you replied, then reached your arms out for him to join you. A pleased look passed across his face at your invitation as he kneeled on the bed with you, towering over you with his broad frame, making you feel so small.

He leaned forward with his hands brushing lightly over your shoulders and his lips parted as he admired you openly. Then he murmured, "Lay down and spread your legs," and you felt your stomach flip as you did what you were told.

Dave palmed himself through his boxers when his eyes locked onto the wet spot spreading in your underwear. His long fingers hooked around the fabric and pulled them down, slowly exposing yourself to him. You watched, squirming impatiently, as his eyes turned from brown to almost black when he took a deep breath and spread your legs wide into the bedding.

"I need you," you whimpered. Your skin felt like it was on fire and you were so aroused it almost fucking hurt but you were certain Dave would be able to fix it. You didn't know why or how, but you just knew.

"I know, baby," he said, shifting down so he laid between your legs, his angular nose nudging against your folds and his hot breath fanning over your leaking cunt. You shivered and whined but his big hands held you in place.

"I'm gonna take good care of you, don't worry," was the last thing he said before he placed a sweet kiss on your mound. Then he kissed you again except that time, his tongue flicked out, catching your clit, and the noise that came from your mouth was borderline embarrassing.

"God, you're so wet," he whispered in awe inbetween plunging his tongue in and out of your opening, reveling in the taste of your pussy. The way your scent had engulfed him made him feel insane and the only thing he wanted to do was pull more sweet noises from your lips.

There was no explaining that night. At least, not rationally. The two of you fell into something neither of you experienced before but somehow was all too familiar. You found yourself being far more submissive than you ever were with anybody else, like your body had taken over and knew just what to do. Anything Dave asked of you, you did it, trusting him implicitly.

It was a combination of your sobs and whimpers that drove him forward like an animal, unable to stop eating at your cunt until you came twice from his tongue. You finally had to tug on his hair to pull him away, your skin coated in a thin layer of sweat and chest heaving beneath him.

"Could smell you all fucking night," he admitted hoarsely, wiping his palm over his slick covered mouth. "Drove me crazy, couldn't stop thinking about it. Christ, I- I've never needed someone this badly, baby," he told you as he pushed his boxers off and gripped the base of his cock in his fist. "'M sorry, can't explain it-"

"I know," you croaked before hauling yourself up from the mattress. You moved towards him on your knees, legs still wobbly but you managed to hold yourself up. "I feel it, too. I don't want to leave this bed for a week," you murmured before pressing your lips against his and groaning at the taste of you on his mouth. Again, all you could think was mine, mine, mine. You were consumed by the thought, overwhelmed by the idea of Dave smelling like you so everybody would know he was yours.

Your tongue dove into his mouth greedily, a sentiment he easily returned. You dragged your fingers through his hair, down his neck, over his broad shoulders and down his soft stomach until you found his cock standing at attention between you.

"I- shit," Dave moaned when your lips nipped and sucked down his jaw until you found a tender spot behind his ear you seemed to like while your fist slowly pumped him up and down. "I don't have a condom, I didn't think... do you have any?"

You did, but you paused and thought about it. Even though you were on birth control, you still always used a condom, just to be extra safe. But the idea of having a barrier between you and Dave just felt wrong. You wanted to feel him bare, you needed it. So, you decided on a non-answer.

"I'm on birth control," you whispered, and Dave seemed just as relieved as you at the prospect of taking you raw. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the way you continued to suck and bite at the spot behind his ear while stroking his cock. He wanted to tell you there was a scar there, one he couldn't remember getting, but he was struggling to form a coherent thought.

When your teeth grazed his skin too harshly, he growled and bared his teeth like a goddamn animal, but not because it hurt. Because it felt good.

"Think you can take it, baby?" he rasped, fingers pressing into the softness of your hips.

"Mhmm," you hummed, finally tearing yourself away from his neck, proudly leaving a little red mark of your own before letting go of his cock and twisting around to fall onto all fours.

Dave moaned at the sight of you presenting yourself to him on a silver fucking platter before crawling forward.

He took hold of himself, all heavy and leaking, so he could notch at your entrance. He hummed a little, enjoying the way your warmth spread over his engorged tip, using it to spread your slick around to make it easier to first enter you.

Impatiently, you wiggled a little and tried to spear yourself on him, but he chuckled and grabbed your waist, making you still.

"Want it that bad?" he taunted, voice dropping low, the lust in his veins pumping hard and fast through every inch of his body.

"Yes," you whined, tilting your head back as if you were in pain. "Yes. Please, Dave, don't tease me."

And how could he deny you? He simply wasn't strong enough, his need for you so hot that it burned through his resolve in a matter of seconds.

His eyelids fluttered when his tip slipped past your folds, jaw dropped when he first pressed a few inches inside, face twisting and breath growing ragged when his hips finally came flush with your ass.

"Oh, fuck," he groaned, blinking away the tears that suddenly burned his eyes. Shaky hands found your hips and he braced himself, taking a few deep breaths while he waited for your walls to relax and your whimpering to quiet down.

Dave swallowed and looked down, nearly coming apart right then and there at the sight.

"God, baby, you oughta see the way you stretch for me," he breathed, still staring down where you were connected. "That feel good? Hm? Talk to me," he pleaded before drawing back an inch just to watch more of your arousal get pushed out when he slid back inside.

"Yes," you hissed, "I'm so hot, Dave, it feels like I'm on fucking fire, please fucking move."

"Are you sure?" he asked, but his hips had already begun to rock into you without his permission. You nodded and let your eyes fall closed so you could focus on the way each one of his thrusts and grunts soothed the flames roaring inside you.

"Harder," you whispered, not even sure he heard it, but then a moment later his grip around you tightened and his hips snapped faster, the sounds of his skin slapping against your ass filling the room and making you dizzy.

You heard him whispering something to himself but you couldn't make it out. You craned your neck back, bleary eyes trying to find his but every forceful thrust of his hips jolted your entire body and sent you halfway up the bed just to have his massive hands drag you back down.

"Fuck it," he murmured before grabbing you by the shoulders and yanking you up so your back was pressed to his chest. You gasped in surprise and cried out at his relentless pace, never once missing a beat. One of your hands reached around to grab the hair on the back of his head, pulling him close so his mouth was directly next to your ear.

"So - fucking - tight. Want you so - fucking - bad," he whispered through clenched teeth. Both his arms circled around your middle in order to keep you steady, sweaty skin sticking to sweaty skin. You twisted your neck, seeking out his mouth so you could swallow down those words and have them echo like the beat of a drum inside you.

Your lips crashed together, messily licking and biting at one another while he grunted and growled, hammering into you with everything he had. The tip of his cock reached a spot deep within you that forced all the air from your lungs just to be followed by a sharp gasp. It was making you lightheaded, the persistent pattern - grunt, thrust, gasp, grunt, thrust, gasp - and then his hand traveled lower.

"Oh!" you cried out, your fingers slipping through the thick hair on the back of his head and body slumping a bit but he kept a firm hold around your ribs, still pressing you against his front while his fingers rubbed fast, precise circles over your clit.

Your thighs began to shake and your hips sunk lower, unable to keep yourself from giving into the pleasure mounting low in your belly. Your muscles fucking burned from the effort to stay upright, even with his help it was becoming impossible to do.

"Dave," you whimpered, eyes squeezed shut as your head came to rest on his shoulder. It was all you could remember to say, Dave, Dave, Dave. Just like he said. And it was perfect because that was all he wanted to hear.

"You're close," he murmured, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, fingers working expertly over your clit and hips still snapping tirelessly against your ass. You just nodded, slack jawed, as you focused on your release. So close. So fucking close, you wanted to say, but no words came out.

"Give it to me," he growled, voice sounding like a command. Your eyes flew open and a moment later, you came. You bore down on him, pussy clenching around his thick shaft still slamming inside you, in and out, in and out, while you wailed his name over and over until you grew weak and your muscles threatened to give out.

Dave made a pleased sound before pushing you forward onto the bed. You fell onto your forearms with a huff, still in a rosy haze from your orgasm. One hand gripped your hip, the other your shoulder, and he used you. He fucking used you to get himself off, slamming into you as hard as he liked, chasing his release, puffing and growling above you until he finally stilled and you felt his spend slowly fill you up.

"Fuck!" Dave groaned, gaze pinned to the way he spilled out of you when he pulled out. "Fucking beautiful, baby," he whispered hoarsely, still panting for breath as he continued to watch. You whined and your hips began to drop, so he collapsed next to you and tugged you against him, spooning you with his face pressed into your shoulder and his hands soothingly stroking any part of you he could reach.

"I'll... I'll get you something in a minute," he muttered, chest still heaving as he held you close. You just shook your head and closed your eyes.

"It's okay," you whispered softly.

There was so much you wanted to say, but fear held you back. You wanted to tell him how incredible it was, how you never came that hard before in your life, how amazing you felt now that he finally gave you what you needed.

Once his breathing evened out, he began to nose gently at your back. He trailed up through your hair, pushing it aside until his tongue found the skin on the back of your neck. It felt so good, melting in his arms and sharing in a warm glow while he bit and licked at the back of your neck. It didn't even strike you as an odd thing to do, the pair of you were too deep to recognize it.

With a sigh, you lifted his left hand from your stomach and examined his long fingers, your own slowly tracing his as he continued to mindlessly suck at your neck.

"What's the story here?" you asked bravely, tapping twice on the tan line of his ring finger. "You never really said much."

He grunted into your skin and forced himself to unlatch from your neck.

"Was married," he said simply. "Didn't work out."

You hummed and laced your fingers with his while he watched from over your shoulder. His cock twitched alive against your thigh when you wiggled in his grasp.

"Why?"

He shrugged, lips dragging over your shoulder. If someone had asked him that six months ago, he would have had a much more emotional reaction. Anger mixed with pain, most likely. But you had somehow managed to dwindle it down to a light shrug.

"Don't think it was just one thing," he admitted.

You nodded solemnly, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

"Does it still hurt to talk about?" you asked him. You wished you knew more but you feared you might burst the perfect little bubble you had found yourselves in.

Dave smiled and, with his free hand, lifted your leg so your ankle rested on the outside of his knee.

"Not anymore," he said right before sinking back inside you.

It was the dreams that finally made you both snap out of the lust filled stupor you were lost in.

Dave had spent the night and entire next day with you, only giving yourselves enough time to eat and rest in between the countless times you found yourself impaled on his cock. It was sometime in the mid afternoon when you had fallen asleep on his chest that you awoke with a start, unable to shaky an eerie feeling.

"Dave?"

His eyes snapped open and found yours, looking slightly rattled, himself.

You breathed a sigh of relief and nuzzled into his bare chest. "I had such a weird dream."

"Me, too," he said, voice thick with sleep. He swiped a palm over his face before stretching both arms above his head. "What was yours about?"

You went on to tell him about the very vivid dream you had about him, although the man in your dreams didn't look like Dave nor did he have the same name, you just somehow knew it was him. With your face heating up, you glazed over the part where you fucked like animals in heat for a week straight and all together left out the end where you had a full blown family together, figuring it would be a bit too much and it would most definitely scare him off. But much to your surprise, he detailed a dream of his own that was so similar, it gave you goosebumps.

"Maybe we need to get out of this apartment for five fucking minutes," you joked, yet still couldn't shake the lingering feeling of familiarity.

After a few moments where you both remained quiet and lost in thought, Dave spoke again.

"There was something else."

You tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

"I think we had... a family."

Dave closed his eyes as if he too felt like saying it would be too much too fast, but you shot up excitedly in bed.

"We had kids in my dream, too," you confessed, and the both of you stared at one another in shock. "And this isn't the first time, either," you added. Embarrassment was the furthest thing from your mind now as the words came tumbling from your lips. "I had them before we even had our first date."

Dave's eyes went wide and he sat up, as well.

"Shit," he muttered, "me, too. Thought I was crazy."

"Maybe we are," you huffed, still in complete disbelief. Then you remembered what Shannon had said when you poured your heart out to her and your brow furrowed before digging in the sheets for your phone.

"What is it?" he asked as he watched you.

"My friend, the one you met the night we had our date," you said as you busily focused on your phone. "She knows a little about this stuff. She's a little strange but -"

"Let's go talk to her," he said before you even had to ask. You sent your text and looked around your room.

Could you really have known one another in a past life?

You weren't sure how you got there, but in just a few short days you found yourselves standing outside the old Victorian house of Talia Carter, a friend of Shannon's whom she recommended the minute she read your text about your shared dreams.

Talia, or 'Duchess' as she preferred to be called, claimed to be clairvoyant and promised she would be able to do readings on you both to find out if your hunch was right or if you were both just certifiably insane.

Despite all the evidence, you still had your doubts as you climbed the old wooden steps of her porch. Talia swung the door open, her bright red lipstick laid on thick and stretched into a wide smile framed by her very long, straight dark hair. But her smile faded almost instantly once she saw you and she gripped the doorframe for support, alarming you both. She quickly shook her head and refocused her gaze on you both before apologizing and ushering you inside.

You hesitated for a moment and glanced up at Dave.

"My friend Shannon called, I'm -"

"I know, sweetheart," she said as if it were clear as day. "I know exactly who you are."

Dave's hand fell to your lower back and he peered inside her house before determining she wasn't some kind of obvious psycho before nodding to you and taking your hand. Talia bit back a smile and she stepped aside, holding the door open wide for you both.

"If you would like to follow me, I have a study where I do my readings just off the kitchen. Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked over her shoulder, leading you past a dark cherry wooden dining room table and matching China cabinet, as well as countless green plants stuck on every flat surface.

"No, thank you," you said, gaze roaming around the room, temporarily stunned by the very unique Elizabethan style she chose. It seemed as though she liked her wallpaper dark and oriental rugs mismatched. The woodwork appeared to be all original, or at least it was made to look that way, and it was all meticulously cared for.

"I prefer to model my home after my own past life," she said when she caught you gawking at the beautiful wainscotting and then the glittery chandelier above her desk.

The two of you sunk down into a soft velvet sofa across from her.

"You remember your past life?" Dave asked, his hand falling to your knee, body curling protectively around you when he crossed a leg and leaned forward. Talia noticed but she didn't say a word. Not yet.

"Yes. I believe Shannon mentioned I preferred to go by Duchess," she explained as she pulled out some tarot cards as well as a few books from the built in bookshelf behind her. "I was the Duchess of Argyll and I still very much connect with that lifestyle, so I have tried to recreate it in my home."

"Well, you've done a beautiful job," you told her honestly. She paused and gave you a sweet smile before opening one of her books and flipping through the pages.

"You are very kind, thank you," she said, "but we are not here to talk about my past life. We are here to talk about yours."

You bit your lip and leaned closer to Dave. Without even looking up, she asked, "Hundreds of years ago, the human race was suffering and on the brink of going extinct. It's believed Mother Nature took over and created ranks among human beings in order to boost the population. Have you ever heard of Alphas and Omegas?"

You both frowned and shook your heads. When she found the page she wanted, she lit up and turned it around, pushing it across the desk so you could see.

"I could do a reading on you both, but it's simply not necessary," she said. You were about to lean forward to look at the page when you froze.

"Why?"

She grinned and sat back in her chair, looking at the two of you like she couldn't believe her eyes.

"I sensed it the moment I saw you. You were mates in a prior life," she replied. She pointed to Dave's hand on your knee. "You're very protective of her, yes?"

Dave shrugged and scooted closer to the edge of the sofa. "That isn't unusual."

"No, you're right," she said, then leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk, lacing her fingers together. "But tell me, do you have any noticeable scars? Maybe ones you have trouble remembering how they came to be?"

Your hand immediately came up to rub the back of your neck and Dave noticed. Visions of him licking and biting in that very same spot swam in your memories and you glanced up at him once again, watching as he came to the same realization.

"How did you get that?" he asked you softly. Your eyes darted wildly back and forth between his before answering.

"My mom and dad always told me different stories, I'm not - I was never really sure."

Then you recalled how fixated you were on the spot behind his ear the first time you had sex and you lunged forward, brushing his hair out of the way with a gasp.

"Where did -"

"I don't know," he said immediately, the energy in the room shifting as you both stumbled into something inexplicable. "I grew up in an orphanage. No one was ever able to tell me."

Your eyes watered for a moment at the thought of a young Dave growing up scared and all alone, but you forced yourself to put it out of your mind for now. You turned back to Talia, who was watching you both with an unreadable expression.

You told her everything. You told her about your dreams, the extraordinary pull between you, the intensity and passion when you had sex, the hopelessness you felt when you thought he rejected you. And most importantly, the calm and secure feeling whenever he was near.

She gave the book a little nudge and you took it on your lap so the two of you could read, but you were hardly absorbing any of it. The words knot, glands, scent marking, heat, imprinting floated across the page while she spoke, explaining everything she knew. And as crazy as it all sounded, neither of you could deny the signs.

You stayed for over an hour, asking question after question. She explained how your scars were most likely remnants of the scent glands that each of you pierced, which bonded you forever as mates. How the dreams that you both had were memories of your past life and the unbreakable bond you shared was what drew you together. When you mentioned the way your body felt like it was on fire, skin hot to the touch, she explained in more detail about heats and ruts and how it was your body's response to finding one another.

When you finally stood to leave, exhausted and unable to think of another question, she refused to take Dave's money. When he tried to insist, she held up her hands and shook her head firmly.

"You have no idea how rare this is for someone like me. Meeting the two of you is an experience I will never forget."

She even let you take home the book you had still open on your lap, your minds racing as you tried to keep up with the whirlwind of information thrown at you.

When she walked you to the door, the sun dipping low in the sky already, she placed a hand on each one of your shoulders and looked at you both intently.

"Promise me you will not squander this gift," she said. "You have no idea how unusual it is for mates to find one another again. The odds are astronomical and yet here you are, reunited by a twist of fate."

You had no idea what to say. You looked up at Dave sheepishly and he smiled warmly at you before saying, "We promise."

Once back in his car, silence surrounding you even though your minds were buzzing with activity, he reached for your hand.

"Do you believe her?" he asked. You bit the inside of your cheek and stared straight ahead down her long driveway before slowly nodding and turning to face him.

"I think I do."

A big grin stretched across his face and he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. "I think I do, too."

You giggled and ran your fingers through your hair, a rush of adrenaline burning through your veins.

"Now what?" you asked him, letting him drop your hand so he could shift his car into drive.

But before he pressed on the gas, he gave you one final look and said, "I don't know, but whatever it is, we'll do it together."

#dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york #roll a trope challenge #the equalizer 2 fanfic #the equalizer #omegaverse #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o verse #reincarnation

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freakrenaissance · 2 days ago

Text

Filthy Dave 😏 & the others? Omg, this was so hot!

let them see

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

wordcount: ~1.5k

summary: he gets you off in front of the other guys

warnings: explicit, smut, no use of y/n, reader is ablebodied, d/s dynamics (duh), voyeurism, exhibitionism, very affectionate degradation (it's Dave, of course he calls you a slut), female masturbation, male masturbation, unprotected p in v, very affectionate possessive talk, creampie, petnames (baby), choking, dm me if I missed any

a/n: @luxurychristmaspudding posted this poll and my brain short circuited at 2am. Do I get my extra points now for the explanation for why it has to be Dave, Em? This is an unbeta'd horny mess, and I'm not even sorry ✨

He teases you and taunts you, touches you almost everywhere where you need him, baring you in front of the other.

"You enjoy this, don't you. So fucking wet already," he whispers loud enough for everyone to hear. "Haven't even touched you properly. Such a needy slut."

You writhe and plead, murmur please, please, please, touch me, finger me, fuck me. And he shakes his head, tsks at you and grips you chin, tilting your head back until you have to arch your back. All pretty for him, just by the touch of two fingers on your face.

"I don't think I will. But you... you do it. Behave like the good little slut that you are and make yourself come. Look at them while you do it," he croons, taking one of your hands and guiding it down between your spread legs. "Give them a show."

Your mind feels fuzzy, the need coursing in your veins almost cancels out the embarrassment of touching yourself in front of someone else than Dave.

And somewhere, in the back of head, a little voice tells you, that you actually like this. That you like being watched and that you like being the reason for the other to rub themselves, palming their hard dicks over their pants.

You enjoy this, don't you. Dave's voice echoes in your mind and you nod your head, even though no one has said a word. You're too far gone. "I like it," you mutter and you feel yourself clamp down on your fingers, "Please, oh god."

It's adorable, the way you talk to yourself, Dave thinks, watching you with a strange sense of pride. "It's alright, baby, you can do it," he coos at you from behind, slowly pumping himself, just like the others.

But he's not like the others. He's the lucky guy, he's the one who gets to fuck you. And when he sees you trembling, sees your movements become more frantic, he knows it's going to be his turn soon.

You come and your own whimpers are drowned out by the groans of your audience. It's an intense orgasm, for fingerfucking yourself, but of course it is, seeing the other stroking and pumping themself. Just because of you. Their eyes are glued to you, they watch every of your moves, how you pull your fingers out of your weeping cunt. You hear them, the curses, the grunts, the unmistakable quiet squelches.

Dave's arm slings around you immediately, he pulls you close, closer, into his lap just when you're still twitching from your orgasm. But he's relentless. Pushing into you, hissing because your cunt is still squeezing and clenching and gripping him tightly.

He kisses your back, nips your skin, makes sure to keep you spread open with his legs pushing yours apart. His thrusts are shallow, he's giving you a moment to recover but he also wants you to writhe again and plead the he fucks you please, please, deeper, god, please.

He's considering it, but not now. There are more important things to do.

"Tell them, baby. Tell them who you belong to," he growls.

"You. I belong to you."

"That's right. Smart girl.” Another shallow thrust and he holds you down, holds you still, halfway on his cock. “Who owns you?"

"You do," you whine and squirm, it's too much and you need more of it.

"Uh huh," he groans and rewards you with a single deep thrust. "And who's pussy is this, tell them."

"It's yours. Please," you mewl and turn to look at him over your shoulder.

“Please?” He taunts, mocks, but he also smiles. “You’re being so good. Like being fucked in front of the others, hm?” He knew it when he first saw you, it was clear as day, you had this desperation to be seen. And to be watched. Used.

“Yes…” You nod your head, still looking at him, his smile spreading warmth inside of you, coating your insides with heat.

“Don't tell me, tell them, baby.” He kisses your shoulder blade, his nose nudging your chin and he continues with the shallow, languid thrusts.

For a moment you look like a shy kid who's told to talk to an intimidating adult. But he got you, Dave's hand splayed over your stomach, the other one between your legs, it gives you a feeling of security.

You turn towards the others again, stunned for a moment to see some of them already unraveling, squeezing their dicks in their large hands or pulling on their balls. They like it, too, that you let yourself being fucked in front of them.

“I…,” you stutter but then feel a tender bite between your shoulders. He got your back. You swallow thickly past the lump of shame and lust in your throat. “I like it. That you're watching me.”

Another tender bite, another deep stroke, his fingers circling over your sensitive clit. You're doing good. Keep going. Tell them.

“I like seeing you jerking off to me being fucked.”

Some of the men have a beard and you imagine how nice the burn must feel on your thighs. How pretty the men would look, all shiny and coated in your slick. Your pussy clenches, and Dave hisses again.

God, you're really turned on by this, he thinks and buries himself deep inside of you to feel every inch of your tight heat. He has to do that again, soon, invite some friends and have you in front of them. You like it. Such a good slut for me.

It's ridiculous how wet you are, there's a satisfying squelch every time Dave fills you completely. Your tits bounce while he fucks up into you, his own movement growing more hurried, just like the movements of the other men.

You grab his hand on your stomach and pull it up, groping one tit with his hand, squeezing it until you wince, then drag his hand higher, to your throat, squeezing again, whimpering another please, please, please.

“Filthy slut,” he sneers, proudly. “Tell them what you want. Tell them and I'll fill you up.”

He wraps his fingers around your throat, tightly, holding you in place so he can use you like he pleases.

“Choke me. Please. They need to see…-”

He squeezes, just the right amount of pressure, tried-and-true, and your breathing becomes shallow while his thrusts become deeper, harder. Dave sees them, the others, some of them already came, some of them close, just like himself.

But he's the lucky one. He gets to have you, to fuck you, toy with you, make you come on his cock while the others only get to watch.

“Fuck, baby, I'll ruin you. I'll wreck your little slut pussy. Fill you up, you'll drip for days when I'm done with you. You want that?”

You nod your head, rasp a yes please, ruin me.

He's so close, so close to pumping you full, you want it so bad, to feel full and then to feel his hot cum trickle out of you.

Cum. The air slowly fills with the scents of sex and cum. So much cum. You watch them, how they lose it over your hole being filled, how they spurt all over their hands. You lose yourself, holding on to your breasts, pinching your nipples, pulling, twisting, moaning, clenching.

“Fill me up. Wreck me,” you manage to say with Dave choking you just right, if he comes, you'll come. He needs to come for you. “Let them see who owns me. Let them know. Show them.”

It's too much at this point, he can't hold back and he doesn't care about it either. He'll show them alright. You're his, his alone. His hips snap against you, squelching and smacking in the air, your moans, his, the grunts of the others. Another thrust, hard, shaking your whole body and your cunt tightens. A perfect fuckhole for him.

With a strangled growl against your shoulder he slams into you, the final thrust, throbbing inside of you while you milk him perfectly with another orgasm of your own. You whine and spasm, and then you feel it, Dave's cum already leaking out of you. There’s too much of it to make it fit inside of you. You reach down, smear it all over you and him, over his balls because he hates that but he also loves how you always clean your mess up afterwards.

You might just do it later, on your knees and on display for the other, licking Dave clean until he's hard again. You'd let them watch, let them see everything.

His hand loosens and falls away from your throat, it makes purchase of your breasts instead. A kiss on your neck makes you turn your face towards Dave again. A wicked gleam in his dark eyes, a soft smile, hidden and only for you to see.

“Such a good little slut for me, baby,” he croons and kisses your cheek. “Now get down and clean up.”

@guiltyasdave wrote what happens after this, go treat yourself and don't forget to charge your toys! read let them feel, now!

more filthy Dave in your life? check out tainted heart (read the warning please!)

find Dave's masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

dividers: as always @saradika-graphics 💕

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #dave york smut #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #the equalizer 2 #fanfic rec #fanfic blog #reblogging is love

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noceurous · 3 months ago

Text

lights, camera, action

your boyfriend gets his hands on a handycam, later on you

warnings: mentions of divorce, mentions infidelity, Dave’s family is also mentioned, some self-doubt and angst, looots of feelings (sorry idk what took over me ehehe), swearing, smut: fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), p-in-v sex, slapping, daddy kink, usage of various nicknames (baby, darling, etc) minors dni (18+) reader is able bodied + has some length of hair + afab.

a/n: my birthday is officially on 10th of september, but this fic turned out to be longer than i expected, so i said post it with a fic you feel good.

a/n2: this fic takes place in the same universe with [take the heat away, make the girl stay] but they can be read separately.

Carol was a really nice woman after the divorce.

It was nice of her to call you a homewrecker, among many other names.

It was nice of her to fill Molly and Alice’s heads with wrong ideas about you.

It was nice of her to call Dave in the middle of your date and tell him that he’ll come back crawling back to her after he’s done with you. just like the girls before and made sure you heard it.

Lastly, it was nice for Carol to send all of his belongings to your tiny apartment. You didn’t even know how she got your address. Just after a simple ring of the doorbell, you were standing between piles of light brown boxes.

“Shit, did she really do that too?” Dave asked over the phone as you stood inside the labyrinth made of boxes.

“Yep, what’s left of your relationship is now inside my living room.” You said as you eyed over the boxes. Trying to find out if your relationship was enough to fill one box.

“They’re mostly clothes, family photos and Father’s Day gifts. There is nothing left of the relationship.” You were familiar with the last sentence. Dave used that to reassure you during the beginning of your relationship.

He also used that sentence to girls, and Carol. When any one of them accused you of breaking them up.

“Yeah, probably. I’m gonna take a shower. When will you be back?”

“Fifteen minutes tops. Do you want anything?”

“No, just you.” His chest hurt when he heard how your voice cracked before you ended the phone call.

He hated Carol when she did that. Blaming you for everything went wrong in the marriage. Taking her anger out on you, when in truth you came into him long after he decided on a divorce.

—

“Darling? I’m home.” He didn’t hear your reply, but the water sound came from the bathroom.

He took off his long coat, his keys still in his hand when he walked towards the living room. Greeted with a pile of boxes. He couldn’t imagine how you felt when a box after a box came into your place. He would call Carol again, but he knew pretty well whatever he said to stop her, just would fuel Carol’s anger.

He raised his key, slashing and opening one right through the tape with it.

Fake plastic trophy of being the Best Dad Ever, broken hand painted coffee mugs, a photograph in a frame from Alice’s first soccer game.

He went through some of the boxes more. As he assumed they were mostly clothes and stuff related to girls. Mainly photo albums which were half empty since Carol only sent him photos he was included. Nothing more.

When he was going over his last box, something silver at the corner of the box caught his eye. When he took it out, he was greeted with an old handycam.

“No way.” He smiled as he took it out. Shocked when he found out it was still charged.

He heard your footsteps when you came towards him, wrapped a towel around your body and another one around your head.

“What is that?” You walked towards him, the scent of your shower gel filling his nostrils.

Orchids.

“That’s my old handy-cam. Got stuck between stuff, still works.”

He explained as he checked if there were any pre saved videos. He remembered using it for Alice’s school plays and Molly’s soccer practice. Half remembering that he already saved them to Carol’s computer.

He pressed on the record button, when he saw the red blinking light he raised the camera to you.

“What are you doing!” You chuckled, covering your face.

“Recording my lovely girlfriend.”

“I’m in a towel.” He shrugged, still keeping the camera on you.

“That’s better.” He said as he zoomed on your legs, slowly lifting the camera to your body. “Don’t be shy. Camera loves you.”

“Is it the camera? Or is it my horny boyfriend?”

“Both. Give me something baby, come on.” You rolled your eyes, blew a kiss and winked at the camera.

“That’s better.” He said as he placed his hand on your towel, raising an eyebrow.

Before you could understand his next move, he tugged the towel down, watching it pool around your ankles.

“Dave!” You protested, hands covering your breasts.

“Don’t be shy honey. This is just for me. Show it to me.” You huffed, placing your hands at your waist. Sticking out your chest more as he pointed the camera at your breasts, recording every inch for you.

He licked his lips at your sight. “I’m a lucky bastard aren’t I?”

“Try the luckiest.”

He chuckled, motioning you to the couch. “Take a seat.” You rolled your eyes, swinging your ass as you walked towards the couch. You knew he was zooming in there.

He whistled, “That’s my girl” as he followed you. Sitting further from you on the coffee table. “Open your legs for me, come on.” The sight of your glistening pussy was on camera, Dave’s hand was slightly shook, blurring the view for a second. He tried to play it like he was affected less from the sight of you than he actually was.

“Hmm, you’re wet baby.” You smirked at the camera, slowly nodding. “Who made you this wet?”

“You did.” You pressed your fingers on your lips, spreading them to show him your swollen clit covered in your silk. “See? It’s all for you.”

He felt his pants tighten, he didn’t even find the time to take off his tie since he got back. Now you were standing all naked for him, showing off your perfect body. And he had too much clothes on to feel you on his skin.

“Be a good girl, play with yourself for me. But don’t cum.” He said as he slowly placed the camera on the coffee table. Angling it to the perfect angle.

Your eyes were looking into his eyes, as he clicked his tongue pointing at the camera. “Eyes on the camera baby.” You swallowed down your whimper. Thumb pressed onto your clit, feeling your walls clench around nothing.

You pushed a finger inside you, moaning at your wetness. You closed your eyes, for a second, your other hand was on the cushion, grasping it tightly.

You started moving your finger, in and out, playing with your clit then back in. “Open your eyes.” You opened them, seeing Dave in front of you, behind the camera.

He was naked, his cock in his hand, slowly pumping himself. You could tell he was rock hard, it was painful for him not to touch you. “See what you’re doing to me?” You gulped, nodding quickly.

“Add another finger.” You did as he said, your toes curled, walls clenching around your fingers. You didn’t have to look down to know your juices were dripping down on your couch, making a mess.

You continued to finger yourself slowly, eyes locked on the red light on the camera. You could feel you were close to reaching your orgasm, trying to hold it as long as possible.

Your whimpers filled his ears, his eyes locked at the way your naked chest came up and down. Each second it became harder for him to not feel you on his skin. You were a sight for his sore eyes, all he carved for his life.

“Show me.” He said as he knelt between your legs. You took your fingers out of your pussy, the wet sound of it crying made both of you moan.

Your fingers were glistening with your juices, you took them inside your mouth, sucking off your juices.

His warm breath fanning your weeping pussy. He quickly hooked your legs on his shoulders. Diving into your pussy, drinking your juices right from your core.

Your body trembled as his warm tongue touched you. Drawing long strokes with the tip of his tongue. “Oh Fuck!” You said as your hand went back to cushion. Supporting yourself as Dave continued to lick over your folds aggressively.

He raised his face, his lips and chin covered with your juices. The corner of his lips raised into a smirk. “You taste so good.” He said before he dove back in. Sucking down your clit.

You smirked at the camera, hand going to your breast. “Fuck! Dave! You are so good!” You pinched down your swollen nipple. Pulling him closer to your core by pressing your ankles on his back.

He pushed a finger inside you, eyes pointed up to your blissed face. You were looking right at the camera just like he told you. His pretty girl always followed his orders without making him give them twice.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!” You were chanting out as he was brutally fucking you with his finger. His lips on your thigh, kissing along the soft flesh, pressing his teeth on your inner thigh.

He pushed another finger inside. “Are you going to cum?” You looked down at him, eagerly nodding.

“May I? Please daddy, I’ve been so close.” He chuckled, curling his fingers inside you. Earning a loud moan from you. “Please.”

Who was he to deny you from pleasure?

“Cum for me.” He said as he sucked your clit once more, fingers still moving inside you. Your body shook when he brushed along your sweet spot. Pads of his fingers pressing on it just right. “Fu—“ Your body jolted backwards, your mind went blank as the white pleasure surrounded your body.

You were panting heavily, as he got up between your legs slowly, his hand wrapped around his cock. Fingers shining with your juices. Your mouth watered with the sight. You wanted him. You wanted more.

With the dark look in his eyes, you knew he wanted the same. “Get on the floor. On your hands and knees.”

You got in the position like he asked, shaking your ass a little when you got on your knees. He slapped you harshly causing you to fall on your hands. Your lips parted, showing him one of his favorite views; your ass in the air, your hole greedily waiting for him.

He pressed his tip on your entrance, “Look at the camera, don’t close your eyes, or I’ll stop.” You knew this was more of a statement than a threat. Before you could say something he gradually pushed himself inside of you, letting go of his breath when he reached your limit. His cock twitched inside you when your walls welcomed him inside.

“Oh.” You moaned at feeling full, still sore from his fingers. Your pussy greedily accepting him, already addict to the sweet pain.

He could see your glossy, lustful gaze thanks to the camera. Cursing himself for not thinking this sooner. Not thinking of saving these moments of you. Not starting saving anything he could save from you.

He placed his hands on your waist. Getting his momentum as his hips started slapping against your ass, not wasting any time with being gentle. Today was not one of his gentle, love making days. He needed you. He needed to take what was his.

He was not having a great time at work. Now he also had to handle Carol and stop her from attacking you.

He had to protect you and he had no objection to that. If it was allowed, he would tear up the limbs of anyone who dared to hurt you. It does not have to be physical abusive, just a simple word was enough to get him violent. There was nothing in this world that would stop him to protect you.

You were his purpose in life, his guiding light.

“Please.”

Your crying voice turned him back to reality, his eyes snapped back to the camera from your shaking ass. Your eyes teared from pleasure, thin layer of sweat covering your cheeks.

“Yes?”

“Please cum inside me. I missed feeling your cum inside. I’ve been empty for days.”

He had some stuff to take care of in Denmark. Unfortunately his little business trip took longer than he expected. So all you were able to do were some quick calls and exchanging text messages. Whispers of “I miss you” were exchanged as you bit your tongue not to say “I love you” too soon.

“Baby…” He said, getting faster than before, chasing his pleasure. You moaned, when he pushed in a bit too hard. Your hand stopped you from falling forward. Forehead almost hit the coffee table.

He cursed his ignorance, wrapping his arm around your neck, leaning over figure. He pressed his lips on your sweet spot behind your ear, feeling your body tremble between his arms. He nudged your temple with the tip of his nose, taking in your smell.

“I’ve got you.” He whispered, eyes locked with yours on the screen.

“You look so good, baby. I feel how you tighten around me, you want to cum again don’t you?”

“Yes, please.”

“You want me to make you?”

“Ye—yes...” His hand went to your clit from your waist, flicking it rapidly. “F—fuck! D—dave!”

“Go on, come all over my cock baby! Fuck you’re milking me so good.” He slapped your ass, grabbing a handful of the soft flesh before whispering to the shell of your ear. “You want me to cum inside don’t you? Fill you right to the brim?”

He groaned at how your walls tighten around him with your question. “Yes! Fuck yes! Please fill me up. I’ll do anything, please.” He sucked a bruise your neck, his hot breath from his nose fanning on your throat.

“If you really want to…” He said as he spurted out his cum inside you, pressing down on your swollen clit. Holding your body with his arm still wrapped around your neck as it trembled with your orgasm.

“Dave!” Your voice shook as you tried to keep yourself up. Feeling his hot cum spill inside you. He turned your head to the side, smashing his lips to yours. You moaned into the kiss, opening your mouth for his tongue to enter. Your salty taste on his tongue as he sucked yours.

Taking everything you offered to him.

He slowly took himself out, some of his cum spilled out from your hole. He tsked, gathering them with his fingers and pushing them back in. You hissed with the contact, looking over your shoulder to him.

“I’ll send someone tomorrow, to take care of the boxes. I don’t want you to worry about them.” You nodded, as he lied down next to you. Pulling your naked body to lie on his naked chest. You buried your head on his chest, kissing right above where his heart his.

You took the camera from the table, stopping the recording. You smiled at the video, thinking how better you looked than you guessed.

“Like a true temptress.” Dave said, as he buried his nose in your hair, his fingers drawing circles on your upper arm.

“Can I keep a copy as well?”

“Anything you want darling.” He said as he kissed you, slowly moving you to his lap between kisses. “Anything for you.”

—

The next morning Dave’s men came to collect the boxes. And Carol had an anonymous email in her inbox with no subject.

It was a small photo where Dave was eating you out. When she scrolled down, she saw your text added underneath.

Mine, back off.

Needless to say, the email disappeared a few minutes later it was read, without leaving any trace.

—

please provide comments/reblogs if you liked this fic. they always mean a lot 💙

#dave york #dave york smut #dave york oneshot #dave york fluff #dave york angst #dave york x you #dave york x reader #pedro pascal #dave york fanfiction #dave york x y/n

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guiltyasdave · 8 months ago

Text

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

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

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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ienjoywritingfilth · 3 months ago

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The Ring

hi: you know i write filth. you can't be surprised by the depravity of this but even i'm a little embnarassed abouit this one. My plan is to write an infidelity fic for each of the PPCU characters.

pairing: Dave York xf!babysitter (university age)

trope: Dave York x thef!babysitter

summary: Carol York sees more than she bargained for when she spies on her babysitter she thinks is a thief.

warnings: infidelity, age gap, absolutely disgusting talk, babysitter kink, light bondage, pinv, pina, degredationn, other shit but I've probs forgotten.

word count: 5k

rating 18+

wanna see my other stuff?

Carol York giggles to herself, adjusting the dark straps on the navy lingerie set she wears. She looks herself over in the mirror, pleased with her reflection. She and Dave are celebrating their eleventh wedding anniversary today and she wants to look extra special. He's been working so hard lately, with such long hours.

He thinks she's still at work and is coming home early to grab the girls from school to drop them off at Carol's mother's for the evening. What he doesn't know is that Carol is going to be here, waiting for him when he gets back. She's taking him out to his favorite restaurant and then she's going to bring him to a fancy hotel and fuck his brains out all night, just like when they first met.

She pulls on her dress for the evening, fluffing her hair when she hears you walking through the house, live-in nanny extraordinaire. The only one who can get her kids to eat vegetables and go to sleep on time. The Nanny who cleans when the kids are at school and prepares healthy snacks. But there's something about you Carol doesn't trust. Something that haunts her when you're around. She thinks its maybe the way your eyes don't quite hers when you speak to her. And then one day it hits her as she searches in her jewellery case: you're a thief. Carol realizes it the week she can't find the emerald ring she used to wear every so often.

She's convinced you stole it during your "tidying" of their room last month. She's pretty sure she caught you that day, your face flushed, stammering about how the room needed dusting. You may fool everyone else, but you don't fool her. Even Dave seems taken in by your performance, citing that the house seems to be working like a well oiled machine with you around.

But now she has a chance to catch you in the act. You don't know she's still at home. She’ll hide in her walk-in closet, get footage of you stealing and then show it to Dave. Then they can both fire you. She grabs her phone, setting it to silent and with a thrilled little giggle Carol goes to the walk-in closet, pulling the doors closed behind her. The slats are tilted, giving her a narrow view of the bedroom a bit blurred at the edges.

She kneels at the closed door, waiting for you to enter. Her hip bumps into the locked safe Dave insisted on keeping their valuables and gun in. With two young girls he's paranoid and she can't help but agree.��She's getting settled into a kneeling position when you walk in shortly after, a laundry basket tucked under your arm. You're humming to yourself and Carol watches as you begin to put away the laundry in the dresser drawers.

You're wearing a skirt and short blouse, looking effortlessly cool. Carol watches like a hawk as you put away her husband's undershirts in the dresser, bunching the socks, smiling gently to yourself. You’re a pretty thing, she’ll give you that. Even if you are a thief.

"You're still here."

Carol nearly gasps at the sound of Dave's voice. She'd been so focused on you that she didn't even notice him enter the bedroom. He's still dressed from work, black trousers and his grey dress shirt with tie. He loosens the tie, letting it fall onto the dresser.

You glance up from the laundry basket to shine a smile his way. You haven’t even glanced at the jewelry case and now that Dave’s here there’s no way you’ll try. Carol feels stupid about her plan now because he can't exactly emerge from the closet at this point. She has to wait until you both leave the room.

"Just finishing up the laundry then I'll be out of your hair," you chirp pleasantly to Dave.

"No need to rush," Dave says walking further into the room.

"Where are the girls?"

"In-laws."

"Ahhhhh so that's why Mrs. York told me I had the night off."

Dave nods. He watches you folding and putting away the laundry for a few moments. He presses his hip against the dresser, his head tilted to the side. Carol feels her heart race at the sight of her husband, so handsome and strong. She’s so lucky to have a husband like him; hard working, a good father, a provider.

"Where is Mrs. York?" You ask politely, folding the shirt and placing it in the drawer.

"She says she's going to be home late," Dave sighs looking at his cellphone. "At least another hour."

Carol smirks glad he doesn't suspect her plan. She just wishes she wasn't cramped in this closet though. The second you leave she's jumping out and tackling Dave to the bed. Dinner can wait.

Carol knits her brows when Dave darts a smirk in your direction. She watches as you continue to face away from him, folding laundry and placing it in the lower drawers. You bend over at the waist, the curve of your ass just showing.

What a slut, Carol thinks. Dressing like that for work?

She's confused when Dave crosses the room, coming to stand behind you. Her eyes bug out of her head when her husband's large hands go to your body to slide along your hips. She expects you to pull back from him, disgusted. But instead you twirl around to face him with a smile on your face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. York," you say with a breathless giggle. "You must be disappointed."

His hands come to the top of your blouse, starting to undo the buttons. You and Carol both watch with a shaky inhale as he pops the last button and rolls it off your shoulders. You shrug it off, letting it fall onto the floor beside the laundry basket.

Dave pushes you up and out of your bra, your dusky nipples hard. He pinches them, making you whimper while he smiles. He’s wearing a smile Carol has never seen before and she doesn’t like it. He unhooks your bra at the back, sliding the straps down your arms and getting you to stand there with your chest exposed.

“Maybe you could cheer me up," he says lowly, cupping your breasts. He bends over to lick each one, holding you by the waist as you arch into him. Carol feels her eyes widening and her heart sinking with every passing moment.

“You’re the boss, Mr. York,” you breathe with your eyes sparkling. “Just tell me what you need.”

Dave stands up straight, smirking at you as his heavy palm goes to your shoulder. He barely presses you down before you're falling to your knees in front of him. Carol's stomach drops as you grin up at him.

She watches as Dave runs his finger through your hair, gathering it into a ponytail in his fist while you fumble with his trouser zipper, pulling it down and reaching inside.

This can't be happening, Carol thinks. She feels rooted to the spot, forced to watch what's happening. Her husband of eleven years is cheating on her in her house they’ve shared. In her bedroom.

You're pulling his stiff cock out of his pants and Carol can see how hard it is already. You shift, making your breasts bounce as you gaze up at him. You’ve adopted a wide-eyed, playful look. Dave grips his cock at the base, tapping the head on your wet bottom lip.

"You want me to cheer you up, Mr. York?”

Dave nods, guiding his cock towards your pouty mouth. You lean forward and lick the tip, earning a pleased groan from Dave. Carol can only watch as you grin up at him before taking him into your mouth all in one go.

“That’s it,” Dave groans, his head tilting back. “You know just how I like it.”

He continues to hold your hair in a loose ponytail with his right fist, watching you work your mouth on him. The room is full of wet sucking noises and the odd whimper. Your eyes are closed, your face relaxed as if this is normal behavior. As if being on your knees, swallowing her husband's cock while he throws his head back and moans is part of your job description.

He pulls your mouth back and forth, tugging your hair in his grip. You just moan around his fat dick. He smiles down at you, something dark and lusty. His hips move forward faster, his sliding further and further.

"That's my good little babysitter," Dave groans above you, his hips jutting into your mouth. "Take it all, just like we practiced, sweetheart."

Carol feels her stomach clenching painfully, like she's got period cramps. This isn't the first time you've done something like this together. This is practiced. Your hands are going to his balls, kneading gently. You break from sucking his cock to suck on one, earning a guttural groan from Dave.

“Look up when you do it,” he orders. When you do he taps his cock on your cheek, letting it rest on your face as you continue to drool around his balls. He watches this, nodding and tugging your hair so you pull off of him.

“Swallow it now,” he says, his grip in your hair tightening. Your mouth moves back to his cock, taking down your throat. He feeds it to you quickly and you don’t gag, you don’t hesitate you just tilt your head back and let him use you.

“This is what you’re made for,” he grunts down at you, watching your tits bounce as he fucks into your mouth.

You moan around his thick cock, eyes opening to stare up at him while you nod. You look completely subservient to him kneeling there with your hands in your lap. Your nose is smashed into the hair at the base of his cock and you inhale deeply moaning in delight.

Carol is disgusted to see drool starting to escape the corner of your mouth as his fat cock continues to feed itself down your throat. But if anything Dave seems excited by the sight. He tilts back, forcing your mouth to move faster.

"Cock-drunk already," he says with a grin. "Missed it didn't you? Missed swallowing my cum?"

Your eyes are half open, but you nod emphatically up at him. Dave watches you suck a moment longer before he removes himself from your mouth. Carol can see his cock is shiny with your spit. You look disappointed but Dave comes to grip your chin with his long fingers.

"On second thought. It's my anniversary. I think I deserve something a little better than your mouth, don't you?"

You nod briskly and he helps you to a stand before spinning you away from him, the front of your legs pressed against the side of his bed. Carol watches as he tugs off his trousers, then his briefs. All go in a pile next to the laundry basket.

His fingers slide up your skirt, tugging your pink lace thong down. From where she still kneels in the closet, Carol can see they're damp with your arousal. Why the fuck are you wearing a thong to work? But then just as quickly as the question comes to her the answer does as well. Because she's been fucking your husband.

Your body bends to accommodate the way the fabric stretches over the round of your pert ass. He tugs the thong off completely, his hand coming to graze the curve of your ass.

"We said we weren't doing this anymore," you sigh dreamily,

"It's my anniversary," Dave says as if that answers everything, his fingers coming to slide between your legs. “And I gave you a nice present last time, didn’t I?”

He unbuttons his shirt, tossing it onto the floor. He stands naked behind you, big and muscular. Carol had always thought Dave was incredibly sexy and even now she can't help but think it.

Dave’s hand goes to press between your shoulder blades, urging you down onto your belly on the mattress. He lifts up your skirt, taking his time to enjoy the view of your naked ass and slit. Carol jumps a bit when Dave's hand comes to swat your ass. You moan and Carol sees from her seated position that you're covered in your own slick. Dave notices as well.

"This all for me?"

"Uh huh."

Dave takes both your ass cheeks and spreads them wide before letting them fall, clapping together. He groans, stroking his cock a moment. Carol feels her face draining of color as her husband kneels beside the bed, his face level with your ass. He darts forward, gripping another handful of your ass. His mouth goes to your other cheek, kissing and then nipping the smooth flesh there. Your arms are folded under your cheek. Carol can see the smile there as he touches you.

"Like a ripe little peach," he groans as you giggle. Dave's eyes go to your glistening cunt before adding, "and a juicy little peach too."

Carol can barely watch as her husband kisses his way down your sex. You're folded over the bed and you arch your belly against the mattress, making your cunt more appealing. He begins to give it sloppy kisses, groaning as he eats you out from behind. Carol watches mesmerized by his actions. He's never done this with her. Only ever does missionary, cowgirl, doggy. Oral sex by either partner is brief.

His fingers come to circle your clit as his mouth and tongue works your hole.

"Dave --- it's so --- mmph," you lose track of what you were going to say. Your hips are rolling against the bed. Your hands are tangled in the sheets you folded earlier this morning and you writhe over them as he devours your cunt.

"So fucking juicy," Dave growls between licks.

Your face is bliss, mouth trembling as you grin at his words. "Whose pussy tastes better?"

"Yours," Dave replies with a slur, he doesn't even hesitate. He's holding your legs further apart so he can taste more of you, cunt drunk. "This fucking pussy drives me wild. Best I've ever had."

"Yeah?" You keen, smiling victoriously. "You like my pussy best?"

"Yeah. Especially when she comes all over my face."

Your eyes are shut and you moan his name as you release. Carol's face burns as she listens and watches. Dave laps up your arousal while you whimper in the aftershocks. Dave grins down at you before standing. He taps your ass instructing you to get on the bed.

"Take off your skirt."

You strip down hurriedly tossing your clothes onto the ground before resuming your climb to the center of the bed.

Our marriage bed, Carol thinks feeling helpless. Part of her wants to cry, the other part is fascinated by this different version of her husband. It compels her to keep watching, even as her stomach acid churns.

Dave looks at you, naked and gorgeous. His cock is thick in his hand, hard while he strokes it.

"Show me."

You fold your legs up on your chest, holding them there as Dave watches, looking smug. Carol watches as Dave crawls onto the bed. He straddles his knees on the bed on either side of your waist. Then he takes your wrists and pulls them above your head. You smile serenely up at him.

"Are you gonna finish inside me this time?" You ask with your eyes glittering excitedly.

This time, Carol thinks. You've done this before.

"You know I can't do that," Dave says shaking his head. "Too risky."

"Thought about that," you say as Dave begins binding your wrists together with your wet panties.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," you nod, testing the strength of the panties and finding you can't get loose. "I thought of a way we could avoid any risk."

Dave isn't really listening. He takes your bound wrists and connects them to one of the decorative iron leaves in the headboard. Something Carol bought because she thought it looked elegant. Now all she can see is how easy it hooks the fabric, keeping you in place with your arms above your head.

Dave brings his hands to your breasts; enjoying how they look in this position you’re in. He brings each nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over them until they become straining points again.

"We have to be fast," you groan as you watch this. "We don't have much time."

Dave grins at you before reaching down for his phone on the floor. He taps away on it before smiling at you.

"Just bought us some time."

Carol looks down at her phone in the dark, seeing the silent notification pop up. She looks at Dave waiting for the reply and she picks up her phone.

Hey baby. Mind picking us up a bottle of that from last summer? I wanna celebrate our anniversary the proper way.

Carol feels disgust rising in her throat as she reads the message. Both Dave and Carol know that specific vintage is only sold in specialized wine stores in midtown. Midtown is forty minutes away.

She types quickly, a desperate desire to convince her husband not to keep going. She doesn't know why, but she thinks if he can stop right now there's a chance she can forgive him.

Of course. Happy to make you happy.

"Perfect," Dave says aloud, about to drop the phone when your second message comes through.

I Love you so much! I can't wait to see you when I get home!I can't wait to celebrate eleven years married to the love of my life!

Carol sends off the message, anxious as Dave reads it. She watches as his posture changes and his face drops. He glances over at you, lying on the bed, arms raised and body willing. Dave blinks slowly, frowning back at the text. Carol recognizes the expression in his face: guilt.

"You know what, this actually wasn't a great idea," Dave mutters.

"Why not?"

Dave shrugs with the magic of the moment gone. Carol feels a pathetic hope twisting within her as Dave goes to unhook your wrists.

"But we were having fun."

"I know."

"Don't you want to hear my plan?"

Dave shakes his head. You look disappointed, almost angry as he unbinds your wrists. When you’re loose you reach for his middle, stopping him from crawling off of you.

"I wanted you to fuck my ass tonight."

Dave stiffens, his movements slowing as he asks you to repeat yourself. You grin up at him, your hand reaching for his cock.

"I know you heard me, Mr. York," you coo sweetly, starting to jerk his cock against your belly. "And I want you to do it bare. Want you to cum inside me tonight."

All the air is sucked out of the room. Carol feels like she's going to be sick. She has to do something, has to make her presence known.

"You can't say shit like that," Dave whispers. He's still straddling your waist, his wet cock rubbing against your belly.

"Why not?"

"Because then I'll have to do it."

"Good," you whisper back before giggling.

Carol hates the sound of your girlish giggle, all high pitched and annoying. Dave seems torn. She silently pleads with him to make the right decision. She can’t come back from watching him fuck the babysitter in their bed, she just can’t.

"I can't," Dave finally says in a husky murmur. He pulls his cock from your hand.

Carol's eyes flood with relieved tears.

You seem irritated, but you're not giving up. Your hand returns to slide along his cock, still resting there on your belly. You part your legs as well, rolling them.

"You're telling me you've never fantasized about fucking me in this bed, Dave?"

Your voice is low and warm and sultry. Dave groans, hips starting to roll.

"Of course I have, but---"

"Then do it," you urge, smiling seductively. "Cum in your slutty little babysitter."

Dave's head drops between his shoulders, eyes slammed shut. His erection is rock hard and Carol can see the pre-cum that beads from the tip.

"It'll be like our own secret anniversary," you tell him sweetly. "The first night you fucked my ass."

Carol is lightheaded with rage. This isn't something Dave even wants anymore! He brought it to with Carol once and when she turned him down he cited that it was no big, deal and that he was just curious. But Carol sees the way his eyes glitter and his cock begins to throb.

"You know you want it," you coo while urging his cock between your legs. "And I want it too. Want you to fuck my ass with your big dick, Dave."

The head of his cock is breaching your cunt, slick and waiting. Dave slowly moves overtop of you, his face going to your neck. Carol can see the hesitation in him.

"Want to feel you fuck me full of your cum," you tell him, urging him inside.

Dave groans against your shoulder, his hips lifting and flexing as he pumps himself between your legs. Carol watches as his cock disappears between the folds of your cunt. You groan as he stretches you, pressing himself to the hilt. You pant heavily, your mouth finding his ear.

"My ass feels even tighter than my pussy, Mr. York."

Dave gives a loud moan; his hips are driving into yours quickly. And now his fingers come to circle the pearl of your clit. He murmurs something muffled into your neck that Carol can't hear, but you grin, rolling your hips against his.

"And then you'll finish in me?"

Dave nods. You grin, allowing him to rub your clit as he pumps himself into you.

“Harder,” you beg, your tits bouncing as he punches your whines out with each drive of his cock. Carol watches as your body jolts under his with each thrust, your face morphing into obscene pleasure. Your body tenses as Dave delivers another brutal thrust.

"This is all I wanted," Dave grunts. "Making the slutty little babysitter beg for my cock."

How often do you fuck her husband? It's that why you were flushed that day in here? Do you secretly ride his cock when he's in the office working from home? Does he fuck you from behind on the couch he and Carol watch television on? Does he lick your pussy at the dining table the York's have their family dinners on?

Carol comes back to herself to see Dave repositioning holding himself on his forearms, driving into you relentlessly.

"That's it, choke my cock," Dave urges you, looking down to see your breasts jiggling for him. "Show me why I keep you around."

Your brows knit together and your fingers curl around his biceps as he drops his fingers and just begins to fuck you in earnest. Carol watches as his balls slap against your ass, slick and loud in the quiet room. Finally you twitch around him, your eyes rolling back as your orgasm takes you.

"Want your anniversary present now Mr York?"

“Yea.”

Dave urges your body to the right of the bed, Carol's side. He doesn't even look guilty anymore, he looks hungry. You make a noise of approval as he presses your legs up to your chest, folding you in half. Carol watches this all helplessly from where she kneels in the closet.

Don't do it Dave.

But he does do it. He leans himself against the back of your thighs, tilting you up. He gathers your copious release already trickling from your cunt down your to your ass cheeks and he covers his cock in it. Carol watches as Dave tilts his head forward. She’s confused at what’s happening until she sees a string of saliva dropping down the slit of your ass, lubricating it.

You’re breathing quickly, watching the best you can from your constricted position. He nudges the head of his cock against your puckered entrance and then with without ceremony he pushes himself into your tight hole. Dave hisses loudly as you welcome him, your body arching in his grip. Your hands are still on his biceps, your legs in the air. He plugs you, resting for a moment, enjoying how it feels.

He balances on his hands on either side of you. You moan helplessly under him when he begins to move again pushing himself in further, your hole gripping him snugly. From where Carol sits she has a front row seat to her husband cock disappearing into your ass.

"This right here," Dave grunts, "is the best fucking gift I've ever gotten."

Wet noises fill the air as he pulls slightly out and then thrusts in deeper, both of you giving a low moan as he does.

"Don't know if I can go back to fucking your pussy," Dave grunts, pressing himself to the hilt as you mewl underneath him. "Gonna have to fuck this sweet ass every time."

"Fuck me however you want, Mr. York," you whimper.

Carol watches your face smiling dreamily as Dave buries himself in your ass. You really like this you're not just doing it for his benefit. Carol watches as Dave pulls himself out, then urges you to flip over onto your tummy. You do so without question, burying your face in the pillows and presenting your ass to him.

Dave groans slapping your ass cheeks and watching them ripple. He's panting heavily, the veins in his broad body popping. Carol recognizes the signs of her husband turned on out of his mind. He eyes the discarded panties in the sheets and grabs your wrists, pinching them together behind your back. You say nothing as he wraps the lace around your wrists again. You're completely at his mercy, your body on display for him, your wrists tied at your back. Dave takes a moment to marvel at this, sliding his hand between your thighs to gather more of your slick. You whine at the contact, pushing your ass out.

You're fucking shameless, Carol thinks as you gently rut your hips, making your ass pop for him. A fucking slut.

Dave curls over you, guiding his cock to your back entrance once more. He pushes your spine, lowering you so that he can press firmly against you. He pushes himself in quicker this time, still hissing at the tightness as he pushes through.

"So full," you groan into the pillows when he sheaths himself completely. Dave bares his teeth in delight, circling his wiry hairs against your ass, moving within you.

"You're so deep," your whine, turning your head to the side. "I can feel you so fucking deep."

Dave looks pleased with himself.

"Ever take a cock this big?"

"Uh uh," you whisper, shaking your head. "And never had it feel this good."

Carol can only watch as Dave's cock saws in and out of your tight hole now, your body rippling as he rocks against you. He's on his knees behind you, hands on your waist to hold you in place. You're both sweating, writhing on the sheets that Carol herself bought last spring. Dave's hair is sweaty, stuck in parts of his forehead.

“Such a tight little hole,” Dave grunts, going onto one knee and thrusting faster.

Carol almost laughs darkly seeing him in the same position he was when he proposed to her. But he wasn’t fucking her up the ass in the bed during that.

You're a drooling mess under him, bouncing on the mattress as Dave fucks himself deeper into your ass. The headboard is slamming against the wall, clacking in time with Dave's furious pounding.

More squelching sounds fill the room, combining with Dave's guttural groans and your desperate whines. He grips the lace around your wrist, holding it as he tilts back; fucking you and watching his cock disappear.

"Such a little slut," Dave growls, slapping your ass with his free hand. "Can't get enough of this married cock, can you?"

He slaps your ass again and you buck under him like some slutty horse. Dave gasps lowly, his hips jerking.

"Next week I'm working from home, you're gonna dress up in that little costume I bought you. Understand?"

"Yes, yes," you breathe.

Dave sits back on his heels, his big hands on your hips. He fucks slowly into you, taking his time to extend the sensation of being buried inside you. He maneuvers you back and forth along his turgid cock like you’re his own little cocksleeve.

"You're gonna come into my office and I'm gonna fuck your ass while you wear it. Gonna fuck your ass in every room in this house."

You can’t even reply. Your tongue is lolling out of your mouth, your eyes rolled back. Carol feels sick, swallowing the rising bile when you suddenly cum. Your thighs are shaking and your cries are almost a shriek and cause Dave to smile widely.

"Uh huh, you cum with this cock in your ass you slut," Dave instructs. He's got your hair in his grip again, he's tugging you, jerking your head back. "Gonna fuck you through it."

Your entire body is shaking now, your arousal sliding down your inner thighs as Dave continues. Your whining, your body still rolling, still urging Dave to keep going.

"I wanna fuck you when she's home," Dave rasps, his hips thrusting forward and back in a frenzy. "When she's in the shower I want you here on the bed. Gonna need to keep quiet while I pound your pussy. Wanna fill my slutty little babysitter so you have to finish the rest of your shift stuffed with my cum."

He's rambling now; Carol recognizes the signs that her husband is close. All the things he's saying are just falling over her like a crumbling ceiling.

"Anything you want," you shudder, still cumming as he continues. You're completely fucked-out, gooey and loose. You're not fighting anything, just laying there letting him pound himself deeper and deeper over and over.

"You like having a married man's cock in your ass?"

"You like fucking the babysitter?"

The two of you laugh out loud at this obscenity and for some reason that's what sets Carol off. Not that you're fucking each other in her bed, but that you're laughing together. Dave looks down at you fondly.

“You liked that ring, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

The ring? The one Carol can’t find? The one she went crying to Dave about because it belonged to her grandmother? Carol feels her cheeks turning into angry red circles.

“You’re gonna get another one tonight,” he promises. “Because I’m about to ruin you, little girl. You won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

Dave pushes you down brutally, and now he takes his hands and spreads your cheeks. You croon desperately, muttering how you want him to fuck you hard and how you can take it. He pulls out slightly, watching your hole flutter, desperate to be filled.

"All for me," he murmurs as he shoves his cock back into you.

You moan at the intrusion, your body falling into sync with his. With all his strength he fucks you into the mattress, grinning when you cry out in ecstasy. His hips are pounding into you from behind so hard that the slaps of your connecting flesh crack in the air.

The bed is shaking with the force of your fucking; the two of you grunting back and forth until Dave's thrusting begins to taper. He's going to cum.

"Happy anniversary to me," Dave shouts into the air, his body arched over yours like some kind of animal as he ruts deeply, about to release his creamy load in your ass.

“Happy anniversary to us,” you gasp under him. “Can’t wait to celebrate it again and again.”

The two of you are laughing before movement out of the corner of Dave’s eyes catches his attention. He turns just in time to see his wife Carol exit the closet a wild look in her eyes. Dave can see the safe in the closet is open, confusing him. He realizes what's happening just in time for Carol to pull the trigger.

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #dave york x f!reader #dave york fanfiction #dave york x you #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york

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