#dave writes fic

[jewishmatsuda]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne Characters: Danny Fenton, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Vlad Masters Additional Tags: Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, danny does not remember the league of shadows, Ghost King Danny Fenton, ghost prince danny fenton, Creepy Vlad Masters, Trans Danny Fenton, no beta we die like danny, demon twins, Lazarus Pits are Ectoplasm (Danny Phantom and DCU) Series: Part 1 of Delusions of Doppelganging Summary:

When Danny was six years old, he was found in a state park out in the Midwest telling crazy stories of ninjas and pools of boiling, green liquid. Kids say crazy things all the time, and his young mind adapted to being told all his stories were his big imagination.

The last time Damian saw his twin, they were six, and his twin slipped and fell into a Lazarus Pit in a freak accident. A body was never recovered. After his twin was presumed dead, Damian refused to forget.

Years later, their paths cross by chance, and it's, weirdly enough, all thanks to Vlad Masters.

[pedgito]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄 | Dave York x reader

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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.

[astermath]

Hii 🤭 can I request a Dave Lizewski x reader fluffy smut? Maybe something like dave and the reader are studying for a test but he gets distracted or something

omg yes ofc!! I haven't written for dave in a bit but he's still one of my main pookies so YES, YES I WILL ANON. so sorry this took so long btw!!

pairing: dave lizewski x fem!reader

summary: your boyfriend is too distracted during your study session, so you decide to help him out.

word count: 1.5K

tags: dave and reader are in college, protected sex, established relationship, kind of sub dave? a little proofread, minors dni! normal font below!

let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further dave lizewski related content!

Dave tutoring you was a regular part of your weekly routine. Not only was he a great boyfriend, but he was also an expert at anything math related. Which came in handy for you, because despite being a major in social studies, your course required you to take a class in statistics. So, with exams coming up, the two of you had been spending more and more time preparing together.

The sound of pens clicking and papers being shuffled around filled the room along with your groans. You were desperately trying to find the formula key you’d written down earlier, that had now conveniently disappeared.

Dave watched you, eyes peeking above his glasses as he bit his bottom lip. He wouldn’t tell you, he was pretty sure you’d gotten even more frustrated, but you looked so cute when you were agitated. Not that he liked having you in that mood, not at all. But it was just— the pout of your soft lips, the scrunch of your cute nose, the little huff you’d make when things didn’t go your way… Boy, he was obsessed with you.

"But I swear I-- are you even listening to me?"

Dave snaps out of his daydreaming when you snap your fingers in front of his face, a blush creeping up his face. "I-I was, I promise!"

You raised an eyebrow. "Sure you were." You leaned back into your chair, crossing your legs. "Aren't you supposed to be helping me? I'm gonna be so mad if I have to retake this course."

He gulps, the last thing he wanted was for you to waste your precious time on doing this all again. Especially because that meant you'd have less time for him as well.

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just... I'm so--"

"Distracted?" you interrupt his stammering. To Dave's surprise, you're no longer looking all that frustrated. Your frown is replaced by a cheeky grin, one he knows all too well.

“N-No, I mean— yeah, a little, but it’s not that I don’t wanna help—“ he starts rambling, his words dying off when he hears you giggle. "Wh--What?"

"You're so cute, Dave," you got up, closing the distance so that you were now standing in between his legs, "but I really can't have you being all distracted while we're supposed to study."

He suddenly felt a lot guiltier about his staring. He promised to help you and here he was gawking at how pretty you were, getting all kinds of thoughts. He felt like a pervert.

"I'm sorry, you're right, I'm just getting in the wa-- what are you doing?"

You took his hands and pulled him off the chair, guiding him over to the bed and giving him a push so he landed with his back flat onto the mattress. He looked a little disheveled, curls all messy and his glasses a little crooked. God, you could just eat him up.

"I can't have you being distracted, so," you took your shirt off in one swift motion, "let's fix that."

He watched you with wide blue eyes, face flushed pink with his mouth hanging open. You were no stranger to taking the upper hand with him, but he hadn't expected your study session to get steamy so quickly.

That's how you ended up on top of him, hips grinding down on him through his boxers and your panties. He swore he was about to cum just from you rubbing yourself over him, it took everything in him not to give into that feeling.

"Is this what you were thinking about, baby?" Your voice is dripping with honey. There's something teasing, almost mocking in it. You were well aware of how horny your boyfriend gets, the dirty thoughts he gets, even from before the two of you were a thing. But he never just admits them, no, he's a sweetheart like that.

He wants to answer, so bad, but with every movement of your hips a whimper spills from his lips, whether he wants it to or not. He's not too sure what to do with his hands, keeping them loosely on your thighs, not guiding, simply touching. Almost to ground himself a little.

"Hm, or maybe... You were thinking about this?" You reach down to move your panties to the side, and he takes the hint to start shoving his boxers down, just low enough to free his cock. You feel it tap against your ass as it finally springs free, already dripping with precum.

The vulgar sound of your juices spreading over his cock drives him mad. He barely gets the time to roll a condom on before your rubbing his head through your folds again, his hands grabbing the fat of your thighs a little harder. He's whining softly, silently pleading for you to let him fuck you already.

"What's that baby?" you reach out and grab his jaw, forcing him to look at you. "Use your words hun, I'm not a mind reader."

He just stares at you for a moment, cock twitching at your commanding words. He swallows, struggling to get anything out like the horny mess he is.

"I-I want you to--"

"Speak up."

"I want to be inside you," His voice cracks a little when he repeats himself, louder this time, "Please." he adds.

You smile, a thumb rubbing gently across his cheek. Poor boy looked like he was about to cry if he didn't get to fuck you, cock painfully aching with a need for you, and you alone.

"Well," you lined him up with your entrance, "only because you asked so nicely."

You took him inside with one swift movement of your hips, dropping down onto his lap with an audible clap of skin against skin. You moaned in unison, eyes finding each other, always wanting to watch the other's face when you finally connected like this again.

You wasted no time, already moving your hips again, the sensation of his cock dragging over your slicked walls sending you into a state of euphoria already. Dave's a big guy, and that counts for every other part of him too. You didn't care if stretch was a little painful, or that it took you a while to get used to the size of him at first, you loved it.

"B-Baby, please-- oh my god, you feel s'good, holy shit..." He blabbered on, his words slurring over the sounds of his moans. You grinned, he was already so pussy drunk, it was adorable.

You leaned over, hand splayed over his toned chest, nails dragging over his fair skin and leaving red trails in their wake. He looked so pretty, all marked up, letting everybody know that he was yours. Not that they didn't know already, he loved letting them know, always mentioning his pretty girlfriend whenever he could.

Your thighs started burning a little from the exertion, but you couldn't stop, not when you felt your orgasm slowly approaching. You started moving faster, bouncing on his cock, grin faltering as your expression grew more desperate.

"Dave, I-- fuck!" you cried out when he shifted his hips, the head of his cock hitting a particular spot inside you that made you see stars. "Keep doing that, holy shit, m'gonna cum baby..."

He took your command, as always, following your rhythm with his own movements. His thrusts become more erratic and sloppy by the second, letting you know he was getting close himself. Not that the continuous repeating of your name wasn't already alerting you of that.

"J-Just like that baby, just like that," your orgasm caught up to you soon, walls fluttering around him as you tilted your head back and moaned his name. The two of you were always loud, but now you were sure the whole floor heard you.

He followed right after, thrusting up into you and filling the condom with his hot cum. Your body went limp for a moment, collapsing on top of him with your full weight. His strong arms enveloped you, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, panting, trying to catch your breath.

After a moment to come down from the high of your orgasms, you moved your head to press soft kisses to his cheek. He sighed dreamily, an adorable boyish smile appearing on his face. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have you. Sometimes, it just felt like a dream. Luckily you were there to kiss him back to reality.

"D'you wanna go back to studying?" he asked softly, his hand tracing gently over your spine.

You whined, pressing a few kisses to his lips. "Hm... No..."

"But," kiss, "what about," kiss, "the exam?"

"Fuck the exam." You moved your head back to rest on his shoulder.

He doesn't reply, instead smiling to himself. Just being glad he's not the only one distracted now.

tag list <3

@nephilimsss @tangerinesgf @dynamitehacke @izzyisstuff @cinawoah @amoebagrl @ykyouluvme  @stilloverthinking @erodastylinson  @reneehillary69  @durag-tanaka @earth-elemental18    @caxddce  @777iii @a-simp-for-broken-people

[moonpascal]

i can’t watch movies/tv shows anymore. at least older ones, because then i develop a massive crush on them, and then there is nothing written for them or very few.

[toxicanonymity]

the green

WC: 2.4k... I guess to find a scene, I had to find a world, then I didn't want to trim the fat because I liked it 😔

PAIRING: Ezra x f!reader; ft. others.

A/N: For @iamasaddie's writing challenge 4.0. I got Ezra: Aquarius, (i decided dark) Rave AU. Some of you write Ezra dialogue so well and true to character. That is not my forte and I didn't force it, but he speaks differently than others.

WARNINGS (not exhaustive, read at your own discretion): I8+ stefon voice: "this club has everything." drugs, surrealism, dark atmosphere*, sex cult vibes, public nudity, jacking off, manhandling, cumshot (dubcon), slapping, choking, spitting. Infidelity. You have a daddy. *I'd say "mild" horror but there's a mummified body in passing. A few cameos. It gets weird. unrefined chaos.

FIC ART: Amazing visual by @aurorawritestoescape

Drawing by @romana-after-dark

The Green was the one place your daddy explicitly forbade you from going. He never said why, but you assumed because the club entrance was down in the catacombs.

There were countless urban legends of doped up partiers getting lost, only to be found years later. One was discovered in a remote ossuary curled up with a faded can of New Coke. A picture had circulated – The poor soul’s shrunken legs were bent, knees drawn to their chest, yellow leggings stiffened and soiled under a pink leotard which by then fit like a paper bag.

—

When your friend said that’s where you were headed one night, you tried to convince her into going anywhere else. The problem was, she was obsessed with a DJ at the Green.

“I don’t get it,” she protested. “I know it’s not because you’re scared.”

“I just can't,” you pleaded futilely, and then she caught on when you wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared. “Let me guess,” she spat. “Because you’re letting a married man control your life.”

“Come on,” you pleaded.

“Billy may be a slut, but he's not married,” she bragged of the DJ.

. . .

An hour later, you and your friend were both high, dancing near the front of the crowd. In the humidity, you took off your bra, leaving a snug, mesh crop top and leather miniskirt. By then about 10% of the crowd was nude or close to it.

A song faded out, and a dense fog began to billow into the crowd. The fog smelled thickly of vegetation and masked some of the body odor you had been inhaling all night. The crowd quietly murmured, and with a few scattered whistles of enthusiasm.

As the fog settled, Billy the DJ put on a soothing binaural beat and introduced his mate, Ezra. As the crowd whistles and cheered, Billy hopped down from the booth and made a bee-line for your friend.

“There she is,” he murmured into her neck and wrapped his arms around her. “Is your friend joining us?”

“No,” she answered without looking at you. “Her daddy wouldn't like that.”

“Oh,” Billy looked you up and down, impressed. “Tell me ‘bout that later, love?” Billy winked at you as she dragged him away, leaving you alone.

–

Ezra stepped onto the stage and commenced with. . . spoken word poetry.

You didn't have the presence of mind for it, but the crowd was captivated. They knew him. As he droned on, some of them dropped to their knees, including a tattooed young man next to you in nothing but a sweatband. On the floor, he bent forward in child’s pose, arms stretched toward Ezra as though in worship. Through the remaining fog, the man’s glow-in-the-dark butt plug caught your eye.

Ezra had a mesmerizing voice. “Yes,” he echoed over the beat, and you found yourself tuning in. “Yes, feel my tongue penetrate you. Feel my words inside you!” You felt him opening something in your chest.

You scanned the crowd. The effect he had on these people was — The back of your neck prickled, and your exposed nipples hardened.

And then, you felt eyes on you. Not just anyone's. Your breath hitched. In the corner of your eye, Ezra was looking right at you. His voice became more tranquil: “I am already inside you.” A zing of pleasure shot through your chest, and a tingling heat spread through your loins. “Be not afraid,” he cooed. “Look at me while I penetrate you.” Your knees felt weak with need. You slowly looked up at him. He was sweating profusely through a worn, gray T-shirt and tactical pants. He dabbed his forehead with his wrist and ran his fingers through a shock of white hair. “yes,” he nodded, not taking his eyes off you. “Let me in deeper, little bird.”

“Let him in,” a few people murmured.

Ezra nodded, and his eyes sparkled as they briefly surveyed the crowd before coming back to you. He allowed a moment of silence, and over the beat, you could hear scattered moans. In your peripheral vision, the guy with the glow-in-the-dark butt plug was sucking cock while jerking himself off.

“Eyes on your god,” Ezra sharply demanded, and your face heated up as your gaze snapped back to him. Your eyes connected and locked together. It felt like you knew him. Like he knew you. You knew each other. You had to.

Ezra wet his lips, and everyone watched as he began to rub himself through his pants, looking right at you. Your eyelashes fluttered at the sight. His presence seized your whole body. Your breaths were shallow. The low beat thumped and hummed, with you in the tightening grip of his gaze.

From behind, you felt the wind of a stranger’s breath on your ear. “it’s okay,” she reassured you. “I’m gonna hold you for him,” the stranger slotted her hands under your arms.

“All over you,” Ezra continued, “the hands of my words, sliding over your skin.” He breathed heavily over the beat. You felt him. Pressure swelled in your depths, and you could hardly keep your eyes open. “Your god’s tongue, tasting the salt of your neck.” You really felt him. Your lips parted, and your clit twitched. “Yes,” Ezra nodded as he slowly rubbed himself, and the thick outline in his pants made you squeeze your thighs. Your body went nearly limp for Ezra's voice, and the stranger held you with your back against her chest. You could feel her nipples through the mesh of your top.

Ezra continued, “Your god’s cock, in the cunt of your soul.” And oh, you felt it deep. He unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and the crowd cheered and pleaded, “yes, Ezra,” “please, God.” He held his cock in his hand, shapely and majestic.

Desire flooded your body, buzzing and throbbing with the beat of his obscenity. Your mind was full of him and so was your body, it felt. You had room for nothing else. Someone stepped toward the stage, and Ezra let them spit on his dick.

The stranger holding you pushed you forward, bringing you closer to Ezra. Ezra pointed at you with his free hand. As you arrived at the stage, a familiar darkness fell over his eyes, and your heart skipped a beat at the weight of recognition.

You snapped out of the spell. There was something off about this, something wrong about him.

He had someone else's face.

Someone you loved.

Your stomach turned as you stood there beneath Ezra, and he pumped his cock, with the crowd cheering him on. His eyes froze you in place. You willed yourself to move, as though stuck in a nightmare. It was just a bad trip, you told yourself. This wasn't real. It was the drugs.

“It's okay,” the stranger reassured you, and somehow, it helped you breathe easier.

Ezra breathed heavier, and his hungry eyes settled on your chest, making your nipples harden nearly to the point of pain. Goosebumps erupted from your chest and spread over your body.

“The seed of your god,” he panted, chest heaving.

“The seed of our god,” a few voices echoed.

Ezra bit his bottom lip and stroked himself faster.

“Especially for you,” Ezra spoke the words right into your soul, and your body throbbed out of control.

If it was a nightmare, if it was the drugs, you had nothing to lose by surrendering yourself to pleasure.

“Open your mouth,” the stranger urged you. And you did. You opened your mouth and closed your eyes. Ezra's sounds of pleasure became more pronounced. You couldn't be sure how long you stood there with your mouth open. The sound of Ezra growing ever closer to climax had you drawing in a deep breath through your nose and shuddering.

Soon, you smelled his musk and felt the humidity of his loins near your face. He groaned, and a thick rope hit the back of your throat. The warmth and tang of it was too much to bear. You squeezed your eyes tighter shut and saw stars. As your body spasmed, the stranger tried to hold you steady, but the cum that followed went all over your face and chest.

“Good,” Ezra praised when he finished emptying himself onto you. “Good,” he repeated.

The crowd cheered.

You opened your eyes and your body cooled with a wave of guilt. This is what Daddy wanted to protect you from. The spell of another man who bore a striking resemblance to him. You weren't yourself, it was the drugs, you repeated in your mind.

“You okay?” The stranger asked and you nodded.

“Now let them feast,” Ezra concluded and stepped down off the stage, his dick tucked away but his pants unbuttoned. People reached out to touch him as he came through the crowd but kept enough distance that he proceeded coolly, slowly toward the cave entrance.

Soon, you had hands all over you, too. Hands and tongues. People swiping at your skin, licking your face, desperate for a taste of him. You shut your eyes as they drew aftershocks of pleasure from your depths. After a minute, the stranger shooed them away. “Congratulations,” she said, and let you stand on your own.

Meanwhile, Billy and your friend had returned for him to resume his DJ duties. Your friend was dumbstruck by the scene. Billy looked more impressed. “Your first night? Alright, wow,” Billy marveled. “You must be special, love.”

It wasn't lost on you how this annoyed your friend. You pushed past both of them without a word and spotted Ezra's silhouette against the cave wall.

—

Ezra was uncharacteristically silent as you approached, simply taking in the vision of you, disheveled from the touch of strangers, unraveled from his words. He looked pleased with himself.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you hesitated, unsure you wanted to know the answer to your question, or how real this was. You asked him anyway, “What's your last name?” and your heart raced in anticipation.

“I don't have a last name,” he claimed.

“Bullshit. Is it York?”

Ezra drew in a deep breath through his nose and observed your face. “Mmm.” He glanced at the ceiling with a chuckle. “Well heavens, little bird.” His eyes turned regretful. “I surmise you belong to a particular agent of the federal variety.” He raised his eyebrows. “And if my calculation is correct, I sincerely–”

“--Apologize,” A handsome black man with short, greying hair interrupted. In an exaggerated motion, the man pulled up his sleeve to look at his watch. “A little late,” he stated with a glare, punctuated by a pout and raise of his eyebrows. Then, his hand engulfed Ezra’s neck with startling speed and precision. Ezra choked, and the man calmly held firm, beginning to explain, “In approximately 30 seconds, the blood flow to your–”

A different man snatched you by the arm from behind. The grip of his large hand was a familiar, painful comfort. You could feel the bruises forming on your bicep as he physically dragged you away.

“Daddy,” you whimpered. “I'm sorry, I–”

Mr. York didn't speak a word to you until he had you well into the catacombs, away from the club. You could only faintly hear the music start up again. He put you against a cold, rough wall, rolled up the sleeves of his powder blue button-down, and put his hands on his knees as he looked you in the face. His gaze was soft but ominous. It unsettled you.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” tears welled up in your eyes.

Still nothing from him.

His nostrils flared with a deep breath. You'd prefer if he yelled at you, smacked you around. As though reading your tears, he slapped you across the face. Your hand flew up to your cheek instinctively but he swatted it away and simply looked at you as the sting faded. He didn't have to ask the question: What the hell were you doing there?

“I didn't want to come,” you cried. “I didn't wanna–”

“You shouldn't be here,” he stated firmly, and you nodded.

“I know, you said not to come, didn't know it was cause, I didn't know about–”

“Who knows best?” He asked.

“Daddy,” you answered earnestly, “Daddy always does.”

He gave a short nod, then grabbed your jaw and studied each of your eyes. “High off your ass,” he grumbled. Then he sniffed the air. Still firmly holding your jaw, he brought his nose to your cheek, then dragged it down to your neck. There was nothing like your daddy’s touch, even when he was mad. Sometimes especially if he was mad.

He growled and stood upright, bringing his other hand to your neck so he had one hand on your jaw and the other firmly but gently on your throat. He demanded, “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing, he–”

He slightly pressed his finger and thumb into the sides of your neck as a warning, then released them.

“He masturbated and–”

“Did he touch you?”

“No.”

Your daddy brought his face almost to yours, just far enough away to still look in your eyes. When he seemed satisfied that he had the truth, he squeezed your jaw and said, “open.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and opened your mouth. He spat on your tongue and you swallowed it gratefully. His hands released you and he cupped your cheek for a moment before looking back behind himself, getting ready to leave.

“I'm sorry,” you repeated.

“McCall will take care of him,” he muttered.

He pulled you off the wall and led you out of the caves with a firm grip on the back of your neck.

–

In the back of the SUV, Mr. York was sitting on the driver's side, and you were face down sprawled across the whole bench seat. You put your head on his lap, facing his crotch. He laid a hand on your forehead for a minute, but you kept crying and rubbing your face on his pants, and he was tired. He stared out the window, despite that your microskirt had ridden up to where your ass was half covered. “Daddy,” you whined.

“Stop,” he commanded with a spank. Then he squeezed his hand between your legs and your thighs opened for him. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his middle finger into your cunt. “Be quiet.” He wedged his other hand under your cheek and fed you his thumb. He closed his eyes and held you still.

For the rest of the ride, you laid still and drifted off with his finger inside you and his thumb between your lips.

--------

-------

Thank you for reading 💚

[evolnoomym]

Doctor’s Pet 💌

Doctor!Dave York x nurse!reader

Main Masterlist | Dave York Masterlist

Summary: You are young, pretty, single and an aspiring Nurse. He’s older, married, bored and a talented Doctor. What happens when the two of you collide?

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: no y/n, Sunny is back, (yes I have different named OC’s), forbidden relationship, cheating, power imbalance, the sort of Sugar Daddy vibes came out of nowhere, marriage issues, rough forceful sex, dub-con, readers being used, cream pie, secret affair, oral f receiving, ass eating (I guess), unprotected p in v, red lipstick, fighting, spanking, tears….If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: This is for @punkshort ‘s 1 year tumblr anniversary August Writing challenge, I got Doctor Dave York and this is what I came up with. The Gorgeous Moodboard is made by the beautiful @notjustjavierpena 💌💌💌

Shoutout to @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Big thank you to @fhatbhabiee @jennaispunk @notjustjavierpena @joelmillerisapunk for beta reading ❤️

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly ❤️‍🩹👌🏻

As a young nurse that just finished her exams you are at the lower end of the chain and Dr.York, with his many years of experience, is at the top.

Before you were assigned to him, you only heard of the imposing Doctor through rumors spread by others. It was always about him being a handsome, talented and dedicated man who is, on the other side, a menace to the ones working with him. He’s bossy, snappy, mean and overall, not a pleasant man.

Usually, everyone just accepts the fact that he’s a pain in the ass because of all the knowledge he can provide.

The other nurses also always talk about wanting to hit on him and fantasize about how hot the sex with a man like him must be.

Doctor York is a tall, broad-shouldered, magnificent man with huge hands. He is clean-shaven, has a prominent nose, big brown eyes, dreamy lips and gorgeous brown hair with grey streaks.

You can admit that he’s a sight for sore eyes but from what you’ve been told the man has been married for more than 20 years. When he got married you weren’t even born yet.

Once you were told that you’d be working closely with him for the next two years, your friends expressed their jealousy and also their condolences. They told you that he would probably make you quit since you are one of the sweetest nurses in the hospital.

However, it surprised you when Doctor York was nothing but kind to you. He never yelled at you, never humiliated you during rounds when you didn’t know the correct answer, and never treated you like something below him but rather an equal.

The others started calling you two the dream team. Each shift you had with him felt like a blessing, no other doctor could compare to his finesse.

The relationship was strictly professional. Even when he allowed you access to his office library of incredible books about medical procedures, it was still very professional. When he started eating with you in his office whether it was breakfast, lunch, dinner or a midnight snack, it was still professional. When he kicked names of lists for important medical lectures just so you could have a spot, it was still professional. Even when he had his hand sneakily placed on your precious butt at the dinner party for the higher-ups, which you only had access to because of him, it was still professional. Even with his wife being right there.

That however changed one night when it all boiled over.

Your shift had ended an hour ago. You’d been waiting for Dr.York in his office since he always offered to take you home. Tonight, he apparently had something important come up which made him late but you didn’t mind.

You just walked around his office, sat in his big expensive-looking leather chair, scrolled endlessly on your phone, and browsed through his private library.

You remember it like it was yesterday that you were taking in all the stunning-looking books when the office door roughly got pushed open and there, he was in all his heaving galore, Doctor Dave York.

He looked like an animal with his ragged breathing, his eyes wide open, his jaw clenched hard as well as his fists.

You watched him close and lock the door. Before you could even ask what was going on he already pounced on you.

In no time he was right in front of you, crowding you against the bookcase.

In a split second he grabbed your face, pressing his lips on yours, kissing you with fever. It took you a moment to catch up with the situation at hand and once you did, you started kissing him back. His hands, those big paws, were all over you; on your face, your neck, your shoulder, your waist and your luscious hips.

He pulled away but only to drag you towards his big oak desk and bend you over the edge.

With your cheek squished against the surface, you could hear his huffed breathing behind you and felt his hands drag down your scrubs.

He just kept mumbling about how he needed you and that he would make it good. You just trusted him since he was your mentor and he knows best.

He admired your underwear as if it was chosen specifically for him. Kneeling behind you, he rubbed his cheek over your ass, squeezing and kneading you.

He dragged down your soaked thong and shoved his face between your legs, licking from your clit to your puckered hole and back. He ate you out like a man starved.

You had to place your palm over your mouth to muffle the intense moans trying to leave your mouth. He was doing a phenomenal job, licking broad stripes across your wet slit, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Flicking the slender tip of his tongue on your puckered hole, stuffing it in your clenching pussy and slurping the sweet nectar of your arousal straight from the source.

He had you coming in no time.

That was all the preparation you got. Shortly after the orgasm subsided, he turned your limb body over and settled in between your wet thighs. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his impressive length. He dragged his cock over your slippery folds and slapped his tip on your clit.

He doesn't even ask about protection. Dr.York clearly didn’t care when he pushed his entire length into your warm tight hole.

He set a fast pace and if he didn’t have a bruising grip on your hips, you’d surely be pushed right off the table by the sheer force of his thrusts.

When you were almost there, he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“You - got - the - tightest - pussy - on - this - planet,-“ he punctuated each word with a hard thrust, “…ahhh, ah…ah, fuck, it’s so, so good baby. Your tight little cunt is taking me so well, exactly what I needed today.”

But he was not done yet; “I’m gonna fill you up…Hmmm, wouldn’t you like that Princess?”

All you could do was nod, which was all the consent Dave needed before thrusting even faster.

“Pull up that fucking shirt and show me those sugar-tits, you slut.” He made the decision for you when you didn’t react quickly enough. He grabbed the hem, shoved it up under your chin and pulled the white lace covering your tits to the side, so he could start running his fingers over your nipples, pinching and pulling them. The extra stimulation pushed you over the edge and when you clenched around him he immediately started spilling his hot cum inside you while huffing like an animal. Once he collapsed on top of you, he started whispering soothing words into your ear.

“Shh,shh, Princess, you're alright, you did so good. Took it like a champ, my little Sun.”

That was the breaking point. Nothing was professional anymore. The next months were filled with forbidden meetups anywhere possible. Sometimes, he fucked you in his car. Sometimes, he ruined you in his office. He learned where you live from the Personal data files and surprised you with take out, a bouquet of red roses and later fucked you on your bed. After a while, there’s no surface left in your apartment that hasn’t been used. You were in such bliss that you didn’t even worry about how he found out where you live.

In those following months you learn that his marriage has been crumbling for a while. Dave is unhappy and the fights keep getting worse. When he fucked you in his office for the first time, he had just been on the phone with Carol, having another screaming match. You became a way of releasing all of the tension and anger she caused him.

In the beginning, you came to a mutual agreement that it would be nothing serious, but with time neither of you could really deny that it was not casual sex anymore.

He took you away on little trips whenever both of your busy schedules allowed it.

He showered you with Gifts ranging from a new plant, lingerie, perfume or Jewelry to a new car. He had money and he wanted to treat his sunshine the right way. How Mrs.York didn’t catch onto anything going on was a mystery to you.

The gifts, however, were not enough. You wanted him to yourself completely, officially and for everyone to see, leave marks all over his thick neck, scratches on his back when he was fucking you, leave your smell all over him, and have pictures of you together on his desk instead of his wife.

You should have felt remorse for Carol for taking away her husband, the love of her life, but you didn’t. If it was wrong then why did it feel so good?

Lately, you’ve been irritated with Dave. He keeps telling you how he will leave his wife but he never does. He keeps saying that he needs more time and that a divorce will take time.

As you stand in front of the closest in his office, you think back to earlier when you were making out with Dave and he totally flipped out because of something so insignificant.

You wore the red Chanel lipstick he bought you, the one he asked you to put on, and then suck his cock until the red color was smeared everywhere. Yeah, that one. You jokingly pressed your lips to his white shirt collar and immediately got shoved away from him.

“What the hell, Sunny, are you serious? Why would you do this?”

His face was flushed from all the anger coursing through his veins. You could see how he clenched his jaw as he pointed towards the red mark you left, something he will certainly not get out of the fabric unless he wanted to explain to Carol what happened.

“Are you kidding me? Dave, you’ve been saying for weeks how you’re gonna separate and yet here we are, still hiding. I don’t wanna be a secret anymore.”

You smiled somewhat sinisterly while you walked up behind him as he was standing at the sink in his office bathroom, “I want her gone. You’re mine.” You slide your hand around his waist and towards his crotch to squeeze his hard bulge.

Dave, however, is still pissed, so he pushed you off again, “Sunny, get the hell out of here. Now!” His loud booming voice made you jump and obey immediately as you walked out.

You are still mad that he would blow up at you about such a minor thing. You feel like being petty. Dave has a closet filled with at least ten spare shirts - well, after your earlier actions it’s only nine left - and you plan on ruining all of them.

One by one, you take the smooth, clean white linen shirts of the individual hangers and place them in your lap as you sit down in his massive chair. Methodically, you apply the lipstick and start pressing your lips all over each shirt until there’s only one left unscathed.

When you are just about to press your lips to the last one, the office door swings open and you immediately jump up.

Dave is back earlier than you expected. His eyes take in the scene before him and he looks livid, eyebrows knit together, jaw clenched and his gaze sharp when he addresses you with a low and intimidating voice, “Sunny, you better explain yourself before you get in serious trouble.”

You just give him a half-hearted shrug as you look away from him.

“Fuck you Dave.”

You roll your eyes and a smirk slowly grows on your face. You quietly giggle as you turn away from him and pick out the scissors he keeps in his desk drawer. You start humming happily as you cut up the last shirt while he’s watching. Once you’re done you throw the fabric cuts at his face.

“Sunny I swear, if you don’t apologize right know on your fucking knees, we-“ You cut in immediately with two simple words that set of a chain of events: “Make me.”

In the blink of an eye, he’s toe to toe with you, towering above you and ripping the scissors from your grasp to throw them away.

“You’ve made a fucking mistake, little Sun, I’m gonna make you apologize.”

As you roll your eyes up at him, his hand shoots out again to grab your throat in an iron grip.

“You know, Sunny, when I first saw you, I thought you were a sweet Angel but turns out, you are just a bratty cunt that can’t get enough.”

You try to shake your head but his grip is unrelenting, so you have no chance to disagree.

He eases up and spins you around, shoving you face-first over the desk like a déjà vu from the first night all those months ago.

With one hand, he holds you down and with the other, he tears your pants and panties over your ass and down your legs.

He delivers relentless blows to your cheeks left and right till your tears start spilling down your cheeks. You don’t even think about screaming, he wouldn’t stop anyway and you know that it’s deserved. You just bite down on your lips until you’re almost bleeding.

“D..Da..Dave, please!”

You mumble through tears. You know that he enjoys seeing you cry; it is evident by the warm bulge pressing into your bruised cheeks from behind.

“What was that baby,huh? Speak up, little one?”

He starts grinding into you gently, rocking his hips into yours.

“Please, please. I’m sorry, please.”

You are getting more and more desperate, even starting to whine when he starts pulling away.

“Shhh, Sunny, be a good girl for me, okay? You wanna be my good girl, don’t you.?”

It’s incredible how he goes from being mean and degrading to being sweet and loving.

You can hear how he unzips his pants and soon, he is behind you again, slowly dragging his leaking tip through your folds.

“Hmmm, baby, she’s crying just like you. She enjoyed that, didn’t she?” He starts laughing.

The head keeps catching onto your entrance which is pulsating and gushing.

“Dave, pleaseeee, put it in, please.”

“Are you gonna apologize?”

It took you a moment to gather yourself.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry, I ruined your shirts.”

“Good job, baby, now was that so hard? You need to have more patience, Sunny.”

“Yes, Dave.”

“Nah- ah ah.”

“Yes, Doctor York.” He enjoys displaying how superior he is to you.

And then he pushes into your quivering pussy. At first, he does it slowly but once half of his length has disappeared inside of you, he decides to shove himself into you in one quick thrust, filling you to the brim.

“Ahhh…y..y yes, Doctor York, ughhhh. Fuck me harder.”

“What’s the magic word, princess?”

“Please, please, harder Doctor York.”

He immediately picks up his pace, your combined labored breaths and the slapping of skin filling the office.

You are convinced that you will wake up tomorrow with bruises on your hip bones from hitting the edge of the table repeatedly.

“Are you close, baby?”

Your pussy answers for you, tightening around his cock.

“Yes, she is, I’m gonna fill you up, okay, Sunny?”

You weakly nod with your face smashed against the smooth wooden surface.

His hand slips between your thighs and rubs your clit with quick stripes that have you unraveling in no time.

“Da..Dr.York I’m gonna come. I’m cumming, don't stop, don’t stop.”

You have to clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle the pending moans.

“Yes, baby, come on my cock. Come on, Sunny, be a good girl and come for me.”

With his cock hitting your g-spot repeatedly, his fingers drawing circles on your clit, and his Dirty words combined, Dave pushes you over the edge.

Your thighs instinctively want to close but he shoves them back open, harshly fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt tightens around him so beautifully that he can’t resist any longer and starts coming deep inside of you.

“Take what I give you, Sunny, you take it all and keep it inside, okay? To remind you of who you belong to.”

He leans over you, his chest brushing against your back. Dave nuzzles into your neck and leaves soft kisses on your throat, behind your ear and on your slightly exposed shoulder.

You relish in the warm feeling filling you.

“Thank you Dave, I love you.” You whisper in daze.

“I love you too Princess.”

Npt: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelmillerisapunk @joelslegalwhre @guiltyasdave @sizzlingcloudmentality @yorksgirl @vivian-pascal @mountainsandmayhem @msjarvis @sawymredfox @thundermartini @axshadows @strang3lov3 @missyorkswhore @littlemisspascal

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[ghostbustting]

HAII I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM 😋😋 I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD WRITE A DAVE MUSTAINE SMUT?? I IMAGINE THE PLOT BEING READER AND DAVE CREATE A SEX TAPEE :3 IF NOT THAT ONE YOU CAN DO FAMOUS SINGER!READER AND DAVE MUSTAINE SECRETLY DATINGG :3 🫶🏻 alright thanks for listening to my Ted talk

loved both ideas so much, so i decided to combine them (turned out way longer than I intended to write 😭)

╰┈➤“𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳„ ๋࣭

Dave Mustaine x Singer!Reader

Contains Smut.

Camera flashes my way as I walk out of the building, a forced smile painted on my face, trying to push myself past the people asking questions and their annoying cameras. There were people calling out my name, trying to get my attention here and there. They push and push through the other people, their mind careless as they all continue to swarm over me.

Sunglasses were a must in these conditions, like a shield to my eyes from those horrible flashes of lights that can blind my eyesight. They were also convenient in hiding the look of annoyance I hold behind my eyes.

I could barely see the path I am walking on, the vision of my destination in front of me was blocked by them as well. Not to mention how much their presence here are decelerating my walk, almost like a living barcade, preventing me to leave.

My own name fills my ear. At this point, at least they didn't hear how many irritated sighs I let out.

A lady who seemingly work at a news station, or just coincidentally own a microphone and dresses professionally, shoves a microphone my way as she ask me the question of, "Are you releasing anything new soon?"

The sudden appearance of the microphone caused me to flinch the slightest bit. Yet I force myself to smile, leaning down to the microphone to answer, "Uh.. yes, a new album's coming on July—"

I was cut off when footsteps storms their way into the swarm of people. Looking up, I found the culprits to be these four guys; long hair, tall, chicks in their arms, and famous enough to pull some of the people's attention away from me. More specifically, they are Megadeth.

When one of their shoulder collided with mine– obviously intended, I was pushed away a little, giving them more space to do their not necessarily dramatic walk. It wasn't really hard for me to find out that the one that bumped their shoulder into mine was none other than their lead singer, Dave Mustaine.

What people saw when he bumped into me was the interview he had not long ago. That redheaded man was saying how music like mine is unnecessarily famous, even mocking the way I was singing and all. That interview was taken when I had beat him in a nomination at an award show. I was grinning all night that time.

But what I saw when he bumped into me was different. I was focused on the paper he slipped right into my hand the moment our shoulders meet, an act so small and sneaky yet an act so big if any of the people around caught onto it and the fact that he wrote his hotel room number in it.

Once they walk away, I smile to myself and chuckle, looking back at the lady that was asking a question. "Well, there goes Megadeth and their dramatic entrance." I laugh softly.

By the time I answer two more questions, I manage to skedaddle away and into a taxi, having most of the people to be pulled away by the charming mighty Megadeth. But I guess Dave just knew how much I didn't like interacting with paparazzi.

There's in fact a lot of things that Dave knew about me actually.

My favorite color.. my favorite animal.. my favorite artists.. my hobbies.. the perfume I wear.. the way I laugh.. the shampoo I use on my hair.. the things I hate.. the taste of my lips..

Too many things, perhaps.

Yet all those things had to be kept behind doors, whenever we have the time to be alone. Just the two of us. Not a single bandmate of his. Not a single paparazzi. No one else. Just us and our little secret.

By the time the taxi stops at my destination, I step out of the yellow coloured car and look up to see the tall building in front of me, windows of hotel rooms seen up there, one of those windows belonging to Dave Mustaine's hotel room.

"You came."

The man stood there in front of me, having previously opened up the door of his hotel room to my knocks. He was wearing a white button up shirt, the only buttons on being the three last ones, the rest on the top unbuttoned and giving me a peek of his chest. His belt was on, yet unbuckled, just resting loosely around his waist.

Looking up, I'm met by a precious grin on his face as he look down on me, leaning his side against the doorframe.

"You begged me to."

I return his grin the same way he was wearing it, almost as if we were looking into a mirror— just that our reflection's a different person's body. A beautiful chuckle of his fill my ears as he stood straight again.

His hand rose up, reaching out in the air between us, a silent ask for my own hand to be placed on top of his spread out palm.

Willingly, I place my hand on top of his and let him wrap his fingers around my hand, his touch gentle yet with a sense of possessiveness behind it as he slowly take me inside of his hotel room. That hand of his trails up my arm until he wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his body as we walk further in.

My body against his, I can smell the fragrance on him with our proximity as we walk.

"Is that.."

"-Your perfume? Yeah. Obsessed with it."

I turn my head to look up at him, finding him still staring at me with such focus, the grin on his lips becoming softer now. The way he spoke his words so simply yet so genuinely are always able to shoot butterflies right into my stomach. But with that look in his eyes as well is just way too much for me to handle.

As we approach the bed, I return the smile on his face. He slowly bring me with him as he lay down on the bed, kicking his shoes off, my own heels following after his shoes.

We lay down on the bed, his head resting on the pillow while mine was on his chest, the beat of his heart pressed against my ear, my arm over his stomach as his lips place kisses on my head, arms wrapped around me.

For a moment it stays like that, just silent moment with him showering me in kisses, my mind focused on how slightly fast his heart was beating, my fingers fiddling with his hair I've grown to be oddly obsessed with.

Dave's voice was soft as he spoke up to me, "How was your day?" He asked me, one of his hand coming up to run his fingers through my hair, moving some strands out of my face as he leans down to kiss my cheek.

"Same as everyday." I sigh, twirling a strand of his hair using my finger. His lips continue to place kisses all over my face, an act I've loved so dearly, yet also an act that we couldn't put on display out of the closed door.

He chuckled softly and focused on kissing my jaw, my breath becoming heavier just the slightest bit from the way his lips rubbed up and down my jaw. "Fame, right? Fun but tiring." He mumble against my skin.

I hummed at his words, a silent agreement, my fingers brushing his hair as he continue to kiss me all over.

That's when he moved to my neck and his kisses becomes way more sloppier, my skin feeling partially wet from his messy kisses. "Dave.. what are you doing?" I giggle softly, feeling his teeth grazing my skin as he bite down a small hidden mark right below my ear.

"Missed you... all day long.." He mumbled. His hands trails down to hold my waist, his grip firm as he caress my body through my dress, feeling me all over. Yet I knew right through his touch that feeling my body with this dress as a barrier from my skin was not the same to his liking.

"Hey, listen.." Dave pulled back, a wider grin on his face now. A grin of mischief. A grin of trouble.

Preparing myself for whatever his idea was, I took a deep breath and smile softly at him as his mouth opens yet again, he spoke slowly. "I have an idea. Something you can take your mind off to."

My eyebrow raised, a small curiosity rises in me as his words managed to take hold of my interest. How bad could this be anyways? Besides, I don't mind a little distraction from all the fuss I had today.

A small chuckle manage to escape my lips as I tilt my head, rolling my eyes in amusement. "I'm in." The moment I said those two simple words, a glimmer was seen inside those beautiful eyes of his, a glimmer of excitement, knowing I was willing to do what he have to offer.

Wasting the night just feels right with him. No matter if we do something stupid, or absolutely useless shit, he just knew how to make me feel like the most important and seen person in the whole universe. Like I was here, a precious possession of his.

Dave was just.. the biggest jerk, idiot, and sweetheart all at the same time.

And that's why minutes later after our conversation, I was on the bed still. Yet this time, the elegant dress that once covered up all the inappropriate areas of my body now tosses aside, like it has some other nights before this one. His own shirt and pants accompanying my dress on the floor.

I watch patiently from the bed to where he was standing, his focus for a while solely on the camera he was handling, pulling up a chair and placing the camera there in order to keep it steady, just close by the bed, the lens catching our bodies just perfectly on the bed.

"I swear to God.." I sigh and stare at Dave, pointing my finger at him. "If this gets out and my reputation's over, you're dead, Mustaine."

He laughed out loud, no doubt finding my fear of our little movie getting leaked amusing, as if that's what he was aiming for at the first place. "Yea yea, just shut up and be sexy for the camera, won't you? I need this to jerk off to." He winked. I'd be lying if he wasn't being idioticly smart with his words despite rolling my eyes in annoyance.

With a press of the record button, the camera starts catching each and every one of our moves, the thought and realization hitting me like a ton of bricks and made my heart start beating faster.

I can't help but also rethink the thought of getting this tape leaked, the thought of the public actually knowing how this man takes care of me and make me feel... the thought of the girls wanting him seeing me being the woman he worship.. It makes me press my thighs together, unable to deny the soaking spot right in the middle of my panties.

I was soon snapped out of my thoughts when Dave gets back on the bed, hovering over me, his eyes gazes upon my almost completely bare body with such lust and excitement, the tension of his gaze struck right through me and into my soul.

My breath becomes heavier the moment his hand reached up and cupped my right cheek, his thumb moving to gently stroke my skin in a circular motion, a motion I wish he was doing to my aching clit down there.

He leaned down, his lips immediately finding mine and connecting with such ease, our eyes fluttering close as I wrap my arms around his neck and pulled him into me even more, wanting to be one with him, to merge souls with him, to be connected forevermore until the end of the multiverses.

With our lips still focusing on each other's, his hands trails to my back, his fingers reaching out to unclasp my bra, something he manage to do with one hand from how much time he had done it by now. My bra slips off me and was toss aside with such ease.

Dave then pulls back from the kiss, I whine at the sudden loss of his lips. "Dave.." I breathed out, my breath hitching when he took no time to waste, his lips now attatched onto one of my erect nipple, meanwhile his hands found themselves a new and last piece of fabric to discard from my body.

He gripped the fabric of my panties, his mouth sucking the skin of my breast as his fingers pulled on the laced piece of clothing, the stitches of the fabric starting to pull apart, making me flinch the moment he ripped the panties into pieces, groaning against my breast.

Small desperate moans leaves my lips like prayers, just the sensation of his lips around my nipple was enough to make me lose control of myself. My eyes glances to the side, finding that same camera, feeling the lens of it catching every one of his movement and every single noises that I let out.

Dave's hand meets my jaw, turning my head towards him as he takes ahold of my attention yet again, "Keep those pretty eyes on me." He demanded, his intense gaze always able to make my eyes lock right with his, meanwhile his body slowly lowers down the bed, all the way till his head was hovering above my thighs which were being spread apart by his hands.

My thighs gave in to his touch, separating just as far enough for him to be able to have a full gaze of the dripping cunt I have on display for him, his eyes forgetting how to blink while his mouth felt a needy thirst. Next thing I knew, his head was buried between my thighs, fingers gripping onto them, while his mouth was desperately eating me out, his tongue working like a fucking magic.

"Ah... fuck... Dave—" I whimpered, my legs were shaking, I had to control them to not kick his back.

But the amount pleasure that even his fingers could give me is always such a breathtaking thing, almost as if every inch of his body were past lovers of my own, knowing damn well just how to please me as if he has been doing it for over centuries.

His lips were making out with my pussy, his nose nudging the sensitive clit, making me lose my mind a hundred times more than I originally was by the thought of recording the way he would make me feel every little chances we got ever since we started this little secret of ours.

His name seems to find it's way our of my lips again and again like a non stop prayer for him. My hand slowly reaching down to run my fingers through his hair, clutching on those gorgeous locks and pushing his face further more against me.

Every now and then, his groans would vibrate up my body, giving me goosebumps.

My back arched the moment his fingers joined in on this mischief of his. His tongue continued to work magic on my dripping hole while his thumb was rubbing my clit harshly, knowing just how much it can make me crumble.

"D-dave.."

He pulled back once he heard my voice, his thumb still circling over my clit. "Yea?" His voice was cracked and oddly raspy, out of breath from his little eating out session.

"Now.. please?"

A small sly grin was seen on his lips, his eyelashes fluttering my way, looking as pretty as ever that I just want to kiss him all over.

"Whatever the angel wants." Dave spoke as he sits up between my legs and start taking off his boxers.

The usage of that nickname never failed to bring butterflies into my stomach. Not when he literally admitted it himself that he called me "angel" because he thought I sounded like one. Him. David Scott Mustaine. The guy who just days ago compared my voice to a muppet giving birth.

I watch as his boxers was thrown aside, revealing the hard cock that has been hiding behind those fabric all these times. We've done this million times, and I'm never not enchanted by his length.

"Ready?" Dave ask as he took his cock in one hand and pumped it while his other hand held my hip.

"Please."

He looked up at that word, watching as it leave my lips and watching the look in my eyes. Showing how truly desperate I am for him. Each and every night. When we're together. Or when we're not.

Locked in his gaze, I gasp when he suddenly pushed into my entrance, filling me up at once with his lenght. Just the way he knew I loved it.

"Fuck.." I breathed out, reaching out to hold onto his back while he hold onto my hips.

Almost immediately, he started thrusting. Slow and nice at first. His cock moving back and gently pushing back in.

I watch the way his hips move, back.. and front... back.. and front, each time feeling his cock move as well in me.

Dave shook his head, leaning down to burry his face in the crook of my neck, his hands running up and down my torso, "God.. how I want to show the world how weak of a metal rockstar you got me.." He chuckled breathlessly, his lips grazing the skin of my neck.

That was when he start to move faster, getting more and more worked up as time passes on, his cock throbbing in my tight walls, needing it’s release.

The volume of my dirty noises were only increased from the way his hips pull all the way back and slam right back in, repeating his movements fast and hard like his life depends on it. In this moment, it probably was.

Pathetic moans and whimpers of his name leave my lips non stop, his own whines and groans muffled into my neck whenever I let out my voice. The way he moves in me was always something so overwhelmingly nice and pleasing, which able to distract me from the camera sitting nearby, still recording our deeds.

Dave sit straight up again, taking my hips back in his firm grasp. From that second and that look in his eyes, I knew he was taking this way more seriously now, just getting the much more dirtier side out. The love, the lust, the care, the need. It’s all seen in his beautiful hazel eyes. My walls clenched just by feeling his eyes caress my body with that intense gaze.

Almost immediately, he hold my hips still and fuck me with the speed of lightning, fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.

My eyes widens and a cry was pulled out of the back of my throat, a cry for him. “Oh fuck! Dave, yes!” My voice only encouraged him even more, groaning as he slam in and out of me, feeling my walls hugging his length tightly, a feeling I knew he loved so dearly.

”Gonna cum for me, angel? Please do..” He whispered out, still breathless till now, “I need you so much..” He was so sweet with his words. Always was. I can’t help but nod and try to utter out a yes.

The moment the tip of his cock nudged that one special spot in me perfectly well, I came undone with his length still stuffed deep in me, making him groan as he feel my release all over his cock. “Mm fuck..” I whimpered, panting.

Following close behind with his own release, Dave thrusted into me one last time before shooting his cum straight into me, painting my walls white while he slowly pull out of me, making both of us moan at the sensation of our cum dripping out of my hole.

Dave quickly grabbed the camera, aiming it to the cum that’s still dripping out of me and onto the pool of cum on the bed sheets, then up to my fucked up face. my chest heaving up and down as I continue to pant for breath.

”Words for the camera?”

My eyes look up at the lens and I tiredly grin before pulling out my middle finger at it, causing Dave to chuckle as he cut the recording, staring at the camera for awhile before he practically threw the camera aside and lay down on the bed, holding my body close to his own as our warmth combined into one.

"Naughty girl."

[cringefail-clown]

striders relationship in turnabout in a nutshell

[albertdabuttler]

Masked Adversary | D.L.

Pt. II

MASTERLIST

this fics masterlist

fandom: Kick-Ass

pairings: Dave Lizewski/Kick-Ass x F!Reader

WARNINGS: language! patching up an open wound, mentions of blood, wound descriptions, fluff OOOO, also angst because he knows you don’t like HIM, kinda proofread but idk..

summary: You and Dave have lost a childhood friendship. The circumstances have made you grow to despise one another, until Kick-Ass has no one else to turn to but you, causing him to develop a small crush. The only problem being that you don't know it's him.

WC: 3.1K

gif not mine!!!

A/N: Low key insane this is the first fic I write that isn’t smut ☠️ also sorry for posting this a day late mb…

———————

“Dammit,” You spoke as you quickly lifted your water bottle up from your desk. It had spilled all over your research papers and ruined some of the fresh ink.

“Fuck.”

You had already spent a little over an hour trying to get your information together and you needed a break. Grabbing your headphones, you made your way to the little sofa you had sitting by your window and took out a comic.

It was rare, but it didn’t take long for you to get bored, you had read this specific issue many times. The music made it that much more boring and you were getting restless. Cracking your window open just a bit, you heard the soft chirps of the birds and crickets outside, feeling some of the cool breeze enter into your room. The sun was set and there was still some twilight left over the New York skyline. You lived a few blocks from Dave, getting a decent view of the city although it was blocked by a tree near your window.

Soon after you had opened your window, you felt yourself getting drowsy, that breeze and the sounds of the night settling in almost made you doze off.

The state you were in wasn’t fully conscious, but you weren’t quite asleep either. You heard a faint sound outside your window, like some big bird just fell onto your roof. You tried to ignore it and relax, but soon you began hearing faint taps at your window.

How odd.

Your eyes slowly opened, allowing your pupils to adjust to the soft fluorescent light.

“Please,” You heard someone whisper, in that moment your eyes shot open and you jumped out of your chair, turning to your window.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You almost yelled, keeping it quiet enough not to alarm your parents. Kick-Ass.

“You said I could—“ he groaned quietly, wincing.

“You said I could stop by if I needed something,” he sighed.

“What?” You questioned, confused at first until you noticed one of his gloves covered in blood, clutching his side.

“Please, you said…” He paused to take a breath, “Your mom’s a nurse, right? I—I can’t go to the cops or the hospital.”

“Well—I mean yeah, she’s a nurse, but… If she helps you she’s gonna end up telling someone.”

He only stood there and waited.

“I can patch you up myself,” You swiftly moved forward to open the window, allowing the boy into your room.

“Agh, fuck—” He groaned, you helped him walk over to your bed.

“Hold on,”

Setting a towel on your bed, you motioned for him to sit down, grabbing his batons from his back and setting them to the side. You ran to your closet to grab a cloth or anything similar.

“Here, put this on there with pressure, okay? I’ll be right back.” You gave him an old shirt and left your room to find a med kit your mom had somewhere downstairs.

He noticed the shirt you gave him and smiled softly. It was an old shirt you had matched with him, well, Dave, in middle school. It was really oversized when you got it, so it still fit. He was surprised you hadn’t thrown it away. It was a Robin shirt, himself owning the Batman one. He remembered how much you loved Robin.

Kick-Ass sighed as he waited for you, holding the shirt to his wound with as much pressure as he could to stop the bleeding.

“Okay,” you spoke out of breath, closing your door and locking it.

“Um…” You looked at him awkwardly, and he waited for you to continue. Clearly in pain.

“I’m gonna need you to take your suit off.” You informed, it was only necessary.

“Okay…” he hesitated, “I can’t really take the suit off...by myself,” he breathed. You could tell that speaking was quite the chore.

You moved towards him, helping him take his gloves off one at a time as either of his hands held the cloth to his wound. Sitting behind him, you unzipped his suit, pushing it off each one of his shoulders.

Woah.

His back was very well defined and it took everything in you not to graze your fingers along his muscles. He felt this, trying to hold in a smile.

“You’re gonna have to let go for a second, okay?” You warned him. Kick-Ass let go of the cloth on his cut, clenching his teeth as you pulled his suit down to his hips. The blood caused it to stick to the wound, it seemed to burn as you peeled it off.

“Shit,” He sighed in pain, taking a deep breath as you soaked a small towel in a little bowl of soap water. He frowned as you brought it up to the gash on his side.

“This is really gonna sting, so you should use something to bite on.” You handed him the cleaner glove and as soon as he bit down onto it, you began dabbing the cloth onto his injury.

He let out a significantly loud groan through the glove and tears welled up in his eyes, his breathing quickened due to the sharp, stinging pain of the soap seeping into his wound. He was seeing stars.

“Okay, we’re done.” You spoke, turning back to the med kit to take out a gauze pad. “This cut is too big to heal on its own, I’m gonna have to stitch it up…” You looked at him to make sure he was okay with it. He only nodded. You continued to dab at his skin to remove all the blood around the slash to see it clearly. It was a cut right above the chiseled area of his iliac furrow, a few inches to the left of an already healed scar that seemed to appear like another stab wound.

“You okay?” You asked him, just to make sure. He nodded once more, removing the glove from his mouth and smiling weakly as you grabbed a needle and suture. You noticed he had a pretty nasty cut on his lip, and his eye was starting to bruise.

“This one’s gonna hurt even more, right?” He joked.

“Yeah,” you chuckled. “Are you ready?”

Kick-Ass clenched his jaw, locking eyes with you for a moment, “Yeah,” he grunted, keeping his eyes glued to yours.

You pierced through his skin and his back straightened. Choking out an agony-filled moan, he threw his head back, his hand flying to cover his mouth. Your eyes widened looking up at him.

“If my parents hear you, it’s over.” You whispered and he nodded, chewing on his lip.

Continuing the process of piecing him together, he kept whining about how much it stung even with his fucked up nerve endings.

“Of course it’s gonna hurt, dipshit! How the fuck did this happen to you anyway?” You questioned.

“Oh y’know, some muggers with a knife. Guess they were serious about taking that lady’s bag.” He chuckled.

As you drove the needle through him one last time, he inhaled a sharp breath, gripping into your sheets for his life.

It was quiet for the moment in which you cleaned up, putting everything away and leaving out some bandages to put on him.

You could feel his gaze on you, but goodness, were you scared to look him in the eyes. You knew that if you looked, you’d wanna lean in and kiss him.

“Thank you,” He said, watching you intently as you got up to take the med kit back.

“No problem, Kick-Ass,” you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back. Your smile was super pretty and holy hell was this mask giving him confidence.

“I’m gonna go put this back, the bathroom’s right outside my door to the left, incase you wanna wash your face or something.” You made your way to your door and left it slightly ajar, so that no one would hear it open while you were downstairs.

Kick-Ass slowly limped into your bathroom, finally taking off his mask after closing the door. His face was covered in blood, so much more happened than some muggers with a knife. Frank D’Amico’s men had tried beating him senseless, but he oh so fortunately got away due to a patrol car nearing the area. Yes, he had made sure no one followed him to your home. He wouldn’t know what to do if he was the reason some fucked up kingpin tried to hurt you.

He washed his face as best he could without getting any blood anywhere, his left eye beginning to grow a soft red color.

You knocked softly on the door, “Hey, just come back to my room when you’re done. My parents are watching TV so you should be good.”

“Thanks.” He answered, staring at the door.

Guilt began to overcome him. He was lying to you, not only in keeping his identity from you, but in making up some bullshit about getting jumped by some "muggers."

He wanted to tell you it was him, but he found the thought embarrassing, maybe you would call him pathetic for this whole Kick-Ass thing, even the thought of coming to you when he had no one else was enough to make him cringe. He would rather get stitched up without anesthesia again than have you react badly and get angry at him for lying to you.

Sitting at your desk waiting for him, you finally heard the bathroom light shut off, the door just then clicking open. He limped into your room and you quickly ran to help him sit on the edge of your bed.

You grabbed the gauze, pausing and taking a look at him for a second. Goodness gracious, he was an Adonis of a man. He had really well toned arms, his abdominal muscles very defined as well. He was quite the specimen. And his eyes. The way he looked up at you, like some lost puppy, it made you melt.

“Um, just lift your arms up a bit,” You cleared your throat, embarrassed of the way you were thinking in such a moment.

He lifted his arms and you put the gauze over his now closed wound, grabbing a roll of bandages to wrap around his waist.

“Hold this here,” you told him as you knelt in front of him. Pulling the white fabric around his side, you had to move closer to him in order to reach for it with your other hand behind his back.

You tried focusing on what you were doing, but he kept staring holes into your head. His hand twitched, wanting to brush a stray hair from your face to see it clearly but he held back.

After wrapping the bandage around his waist a few times, you used some medical tape to keep it in place.

“Alright, I’m almost done.” you spoke, finishing up.

Kick-Ass spoke your name with a light tone. This startled you and you looked up at him to see what he was going to say. He only looked at you, glancing at your lips before looking away and it caused your heart to beat a million miles a minute.

“Thank you...” He finally moved his eyes to meet yours, a look of guilt upon whatever you could see of his face.

“I’m really sorry…” He frowned, looking at the ground next to you.

“It’s not your fault, Kick-Ass,” you reassured him without even knowing what he was talking about.

He shook his head as if he was about to speak but the two of you could only watch each other those following moments, your faces moving closer together like magnets. You didn't know why it felt so right in the moment, but you quickly leaned up and kissed him.

He slightly jumped but immediately kissed back. His lips were so plush and smooth, they felt like clouds. And he kissed you like no other boy had ever kissed you before. He kissed you with emotion, he didn’t just kiss you for the sake of kissing. Even if he wasn't the best at it.

The fabric of his mask brushed against your chin as he tilted his head to the side, moving himself closer to you. You felt like he was going to pull away because you were already starting to feel the need to breathe, but he kept kissing you.

Resting your hand on his chest, you felt his heart beating rapidly under your palm. You stood up, causing him to have to lean upwards in order to keep his lips attached to yours, but the movement caused him pain, making him release a grunt and quickly pull away.

“Sorry,” you apologized, referring to the kiss and the wound. He stared at you in utter surprise.

From now on, Dave knew he would look at you in a different light. Why’d you even kiss him? And what gave him such a desperate urge to keep his own lips connected to yours?

He chewed on his bottom lip, "It's okay..." He replied softly.

“I shouldn't have done that, right...? I—It won't happen again—“ You rambled, suddenly cutting yourself off and picking up the empty packaging of the bandages to throw them away and keep yourself busy.

Kick-Ass watched you pick things up with his jaw hanging, still trying to process the kiss and why he... Enjoyed it?

“You can do it again, if you want.” He mentally screamed at himself, why the fuck would he say that!?

You whipped your head around and stared at him from across the room, your face heating up like the Titanic's boiler room.

"I haven’t kissed anyone since like… sixth grade, so…" He chuckled.

Hiding a smile, "Yeah…that was kind of obvious." you spoke, scrunching your nose.

"Sorry." He looked away while giggling at how pathetic it was.

“It’s okay…” you smiled.

You sat next to him. "Everyone needs practice…” You said suggestively.

Turning to look at him, you saw that he was already gaping at you.

"Yeah..." He kept his eyes on yours this time. The reason he was so afraid to do so before was because he felt vulnerable, like you’d know it was him just by his eyes or something.

“So…” you began, “can I kiss you..?”

“Yes—“ he replied a little too quick for his own comfort. “I mean…Yeah.”

You placed your hand on the side of his neck and moved your head closer to his. You noticed him watching your mouth as it neared his, the palm of his hand coming to press against your lower back as you finally connected your lips.

He kissed you softly, innocently, almost like he was afraid you’d pull away if he kissed you any differently.

Moving one of your hands to rest on the back of his neck, you slipped your fingers under his mask, feeling a bit of his soft curls.

You just wanted to kiss him, missing the feeling of someone's mouth on your own. He felt the same, he didn’t feel judged on the fact he was kind of a shitty kisser.

The two of you sat there for a minute, his calloused hands moving from your waist to the sides of your face, the tips of his fingers playing with the shorter hairs on the nape of your neck.

“I hope you don’t hate me,” he breathed, mumbling against your mouth.

“Mm-“ You made a sound of confusion.

You began to realize why he had said it as he brought his hand up to the hem of his mask and began tugging it upward. Quickly pulling away, you reached for his wrist to stop him.

“Don’t do that…” You watched him, slightly alarmed.

His heart dropped, “Why not…?” he spoke, uneasy.

He couldn’t lie to you. Yeah sometimes he hated your guts and wanted you to just shut the fuck up, but today was a completely different story. He changed in the way he saw you. With everything that had just happened in the past ten minutes, he couldn’t lie to you.

“What if I tell someone? How can you trust me if you barely even know me…?”

But he did know you. He knew you enough to trust you, and that there was no way in hell you would ever tell anyone a secret entrusted to you. But he didn’t want to argue with you. Not as Kick-Ass.

“Fine. Sorry...” He apologized.

"You should probably get home... It's kind of late." You suggested looking at your hands as you fidgeted.

“Yeah,” He stood up, grunting as he pulled his arms through his suit to put it back on. “Could you…” He was nodding at you, referring to the back of his suit where the zipper was.

You pulled the slider along the teeth of the zipper, enclosing him completely in his suit.

He turned around to face you “Thanks…” He watched you for a moment. “For patching me up… And stuff…”

You chuckled, “No problem.”

He smiled awkwardly. “I’ll see you tomor—or uhh, whenever I need you again—or whenever you need me,” He stammered, realizing what position he’d almost put himself in. “I’ll just see you.” He chuckled, swallowing hard as he grabbed his gloves and batons and turned to your window.

“Will you be okay to get home?” You watched as he limped by your window. “I could walk with you… Until we get to your neighborhood or whatever.”

“Uh—No, it's like a 10 minute walk. I’ll be fine. Thanks though.” He smiled softly, beginning to climb through your window as he held his side.

You thought about that. There were no other neighborhoods within ten minutes of walking, so he had to live here. That means he had to go to your school. And that means you have to know him if he said he was your age. Holy shit.

“Kick-Ass?” You rested your palms on your windowsill as he crouched down to look at you from your roof.

“Do you go to Fillmore?”

He paused, staring at you like he’d just been caught.

You felt your hands getting clammy.

After a few more moments of silence, you spoke again.

“Do I know you…?”

He stayed silent. All you could do was take it as a yes.

“Weren’t you just getting mad at me for wanting to take my mask off?” He shot back.

“Fuck, you’re right. I’m sorry.” You looked down. “I’ll… I’ll see you around.” You pursed your lips.

He smiled back softly and made his way off your roof and out of your view.

You sat back down to finish your homework, somehow taking three times as long because the only thing on your mind was those beautiful blue eyes of his. And who else in your school had them.

———————

Thank you for reading!! x

[mirkhammett]

anything having to do with dave mustaine + breeding kink.. we are incredibly delulu tonight, yes indeed 🗣📣❗❗

oh yes u r so right. and oh yes we are!!

kiss of life

summary: a quiet night on dave’s tour leads to a late night confession of his, which leads to something more.

warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this), breeding kink, one mention of drug misuse, consent is not verbally said, sleepy sex, dominant dave, he’s so cute kill me, all that jazz, dirtiest thing ive wrote yet also the shortest

w/c: 2.2k

sorry this is shorter than usual, i couldn’t think of a good plot idea for this, so it’s very basic lol ^.^ not proofread so correct me on mistakes!!

the almost minuscule tv on the beside table hummed muffled sounds in confluence, a showing of an old 60s movie, (which seemed so ancient now), radiating the bedroom with hues of grey, and even darker greys. you couldn’t say it was the best hotel room you had stayed in, but it wasn’t even close in being the worse. it was comfortable, and that was enough for a night, or a few.

you lay on your side, facing the diminutive television, though only really paying attention when the room would light up white, your hands clasped together under the not so unusually thick, hotel pillow. so much for comfort, when you could deem the single pillow practically thicker than the mattress.

dave was propped up beside you, his large hand calloused with litters of guitar scars from playing too harshly, (which you had berated him for many times), draped over your waist. his other hand was holding him up so he could see over your body, eyes glazing over the tv lazily. his shirtless body was pressed against your own, the only thing separating the embrace of pure skin on skin being the lacy silk night dress you were sporting, the colour a captivating mix, or so dave thought, between cream and an off white.

“are you even watching this?” he muttered, a mix between a question and a statement, the hint of a smile slipping through his words. he suddenly let himself flop down into the mattress, the bed rumbling sideways with a soft thud.

“no,” you murmured, turning to face him. “are you?” you questioned, already knowing the answer from his body language. he was laying on his back, facing the yellowed popcorn ceiling, that had a multitude of darker splurges, probably from a leak that was never fixed.

he shook his head, turning on his side to face you, the remnants of a grin visible through his features, his eyes a slight crease. he lifted his arms, wiggling those calloused fingers as a signal for your comforting touch.

“how was the show?” you whispered, rolling into his arms, your face fitting perfectly between the crook of his neck, his head resting just above yours. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his left hand working through your hair, detangling strands that were slightly caught up from your movement in the bed. you hummed.

“good,” he replied, his usually gruff spoken voice soft with eloquence. the show was good, and you knew it. the way the band performed was just so perfect everytime, well, at least all the shows you had been there for since joining him on tour- what your question really meant, was how he had found the show. he never really said much about it, but his dedication to his fans through every show was so clear. you knew what he really wanted to say, though the words never came to life. good, to him meant great.

it was rare for a night to end this way for him. usually, the band would go out to celebrate and blow some steam, (by snorting up god knows what), only stumbling back to the hotel at some stupid hour late into the next day, to repeat it all again the same night. but tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

you curled into his touch, slipping your arm through the tiny gap between your body and his to rest on his bare chest, a leg hooked over his hip. this seemed to awaken something inside of him, a fire of some sort, as he suddenly came to his senses, becoming more awake. he moved his hand from your now deranged hair to massage your thigh, pulling you further into his embrace.

he shuffled into a position where he was able to sit up and look at you, all while still keeping you connected. to him with an invisible string. the change of position allowed you to completely straddle him, your silky night dress now hooking up by your hips. you played your head down on his chest, your ear against his skin catching the sounds of his comforting heart beat.

“you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he spoke, almost grunted, his voice now sounding much more restrained than it previously was. he brought his hand to scratch gently under your chin, an amiable purr escaping through your plumped lips.

“yes.” you murmured into his chest, your breath a hot contrast to the slight chill of the room. he used the same hand to pull your face up, sculpting you in a particular position to be facing him, his thumb brushing up and down, up and down gently, like a broken record on repeat.

“good,” his subtle grin showed excitement, but his eyes deceived him, his excitement clear- and then it all clicked. “because i’ve been thinking about this all day, baby,” the state you were once in- your eyes, that were oh so ready to flutter closed for once and for all until the morning sun arose, now felt incredibly awake, entranced, even- that state had dissipated. “can you be that good girl for just a bit longer? then i’ll let you rest.”

you nodded, and there was no time for either of you to waste, no time for you to even think before your night dress was slipping off your shoulders, the cream silk having an easy escape. you smoothly pulled your arms out of the thin sleeves, easily but with little agility, your exhaustion catching up to your, your panties wetted.

one of his hands cradled your chest, groping your breast and rubbing his pointer finger against your blushed nipple, squeezing it between his thumb, soft whimpers escaping you. his other hand found its place against your bare back, holding you up and steady on his lap, but not for long. he ravenously manoeuvred both of your bodies, so that you were lying, back pressed firmly against the mattress, pulling your sleepwear down your legs and flinging it off to the side, landing on the floor with a gentle thump.

and then he was ontop of you again, your hands suddenly feeling frail and useless as he placed his weight just above yours, his body height emitting like blazing yours, your fingers stretching against his sides. you hadn’t even realised he had already shed himself of his boxers.

he slouched his head down so was face to face with your breasts, licking his lips to gather up wetness, before harshly sucking on your left breast, leaving trails of spit in his wake, a sloppy, messy kiss. “can’t wait until one day, when these are so full and plump,” his voice had grown in an octave since you had last heard it, his words muffled, his breath heavy on your bare chest. you sucked in a tight gust of air. “the mother of my children.”

his words caused an instant change in your body, your arousal wetting your thighs and your cheeks turning a sweet red, cascading down your neck and into your nimble fingertips. he released his grip in your boob with his mouth, quickly moving down your body, his hands trailing down, his fingers giving your right nipple an endearing squeeze.

he spread your thighs with his weaker hand, his stronger one inspecting your gushing pussy, a tender finger spreading it apart, a thumb pressing down onto your clit. you released an enthralling whimper, and a grin graced his pretty face, his ginger locks falling onto his features like a sculpture. “already so wet f’me,” he noted, the movements of his thumb causing a full body jerk out of you. “does the idea of having my children get you off?”

you nodded frantically like a maniac, his words combined with his teasing tone making everything feel just a bit more fuzzy than it already was, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. but he wouldn’t let that happen, not yet anyway.

in seconds he pulled himself back up, his arms caging you in, his dick hitting your lower stomach. he lifted his right hand, spitting on it, (which somehow made you much more wetter, if that was even possible), bringing it down to pump his dick a few times, holding it against your pussy lips.

“look at me,” he spoke, stern and dominating. and so you did, bringing your eyes to his, his brown orbs filled with hunger and love, his adoration for you never fading. “are you ready, baby?” his features held concern for your sleepy state, fighting off the feeling of his pulsing dick for just a few seconds to check your head, clear your mind. you nodded. “i need to hear you say it.” his brows furrowed.

“yes, yes, please.” you begged, wrapping your soft arms around his neck, pulling him down, closer to your frame- and that was all the conformation he needed. seconds had never felt longer than they did now, the quick slip of time before he pushed in agonising for the both of you.

and with a mutual moan, he was in, slotted perfectly into you like he was your missing piece, your puzzle finally completed. he didn’t waste any more time before he started to thrust, slow at thrust, getting deeper as he took his time with you. by the 4th thrust of the in and out motion he had acquired, he was fully in, filling you to the brim, his balls flush against the smooth slope of your ass, your whimpers starting to fill the along, along with the stench of sex that was starting to quickly take over your senses.

“i wanna pump you up, all nice and full,” his words could hardly catch up with the speed of his thrusts, your whole body jerking at bouncing to the rhythm, everything about him sending you into a cacophony of melodic infatuation, words beyond comprehension, a sonnet of love. “you want that too, baby?”

and when you thought he possibly couldn’t get any deeper, he made it happen, his dick practically impaling you.

“m’ gonna breed you, make you my wife,” it was like he wasn’t even thinking before speaking, all these words falling out and escaping his lips, all the truth. like a fantasy he had dreamed for, for months beforehand, all these confessions piling up and making it hard for you to do anything but whimper, but moan and beg for more, to please him, because god knows that’s there’s nothing you would want more to be his wife, and eventually one day mother his children. “you’ll look so pretty, full with my babies.”

his thrusts became more erratic by the minute, and you could sense him nearing his release, his words spurring the both of you along to that sublime heaven, that gushy feeling in your stomach beginning to bubble up, fizzing as it nears its burst- and dave knew this too.

“you want me to come inside you, fill you up until you’re leaking?” his balls slapping against your ass made you just want to close your eyes and succumb to the bliss, though his harsh movements weren’t making it very easy. “my dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“uh-huh, mhmm,” you moaned, profanities spilling from your lips on repeat, unable to stop yourself, or the squeaks and whimpers that he found oh so delightful.

somehow he was able to grin through the immense pleasure, his lips curling at the sides, his face wrinkled with his eyes half shut, beads of sweat dripping down his face, rolling down his arm due to his languid efforts to please, his arm propping himself up growing shakier as he neared release.

“my sweet girl wants me to come inside her, all nice and deep,” he grunted out, breathing heavily as his thrusts became sloppier, your thighs sticky and wet with the combination of your juices, and his sweat, a thin layer adorning his whole body, his chest olied and faint abs clear as day. “i’m gonna give you what you want.” his thrusts became ever faster, his hips moving at incredible speeds as he spurted his cum out inside your gushy walls, a guttural groan escaping him.

his orgasm had him pulling you down with him, your own making you see stars, crashing down on you like a malicious wave, your vision going white as you held your eyes tightly shut. he rode you down out of your orgasm, his thrusts becoming slower and more controlled, his breathing shaky and unsteady, your own chest rising and falling uncontrollably, completely spent. he realised this when he finally pulled out, the look on your face telling him all that he needed to know, your shut eyes then proving it.

his expression was filled with love as he admired you, bringing a shaky hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck it behind your eyes, smiling down at your exhausted form. “always so good for me. i know i was rough tonight, honey, but you did so well,” he begrudgingly lifted himself from your body, admiring your features as he kneeled beside the bed, stroking along your arm as gentle as he possibly could muster up. you had made him soft. “i’ll get you all cleaned up, you just rest now.”

he leaned over, placing a soft, wet kiss to your forehead, before standing up. he hesitated for a few moments, until he knew you were okay, and only then going to the bathroom to retrieve clean up supplies, wiping you down with a lukewarm wet paper towel. “goodnight, baby.”

[jewishmatsuda]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Damian Wayne Characters: Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU), Danny Fenton, Jazz Fenton, Batfamily Members (DCU), Sam Manson, Tucker Foley Additional Tags: Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are Twins, Trans Danny Fenton, Identity Reveal, no beta we die like danny, the parentification of jazz fenton, Talking, this one's a yap fest, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Oblivious Jack and Maddie Fenton, Lazarus Pits are Ectoplasm (Danny Phantom and DCU), demon twins Series: Part 2 of Delusions of Doppelganging Summary:

Danny and Damian tell their respective people the news of their reunion. (The Bats do some stalking about it)

[vole-mon-amour]

here

here

Bonus (because I can):

tweet

[astermath]

“So? Whatever.”

pairing: dave lizewski x popular!fem!reader 

summary: The preppy girl that just about everyone admires has more in common with Dave than he expects. He doesn’t quite know how to handle this information, but it excites him nonetheless.

word count: 2K

♡ LANDING PAGE♡

notes: I haven’t written something like this in a good while, so please bear with me if I’m rusty or there are some mistakes here and there. Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, I tried to be as non descriptive as possible about her appearance. I do love writing a bit of a mean reader like this, but don’t worry, she’ll warm up to him. This fic takes place in senior year for age purposes, I’m pretty much fully ignoring the timeline of the film. Comments and/or requests are super welcome btw!! Hope you enjoy!! <3

(ps this will get a part two don’t worry xx)

To Dave, girls like you were unreachable. You could hear about them, you could listen to them talk in the hallways, sneak a glance their way… But talk to them? Any single one of their group would consider that social suicide. The only reason any of them even looked in his direction was to ask him to do their homework. So why in god’s name were you at his locker? Why were you acknowledging his existence at all?

“What’s that?” You leaned against the locker next to his, pointing at the piece of a comic book panel he’d taped to the door. It pictured Spider-man putting on his mask for the first time, something Dave looked to when he needed some motivation for the day. 

He struggled to get basically any words out, still not fully registering that you’re within such close range. He could smell you… God that was really weird to think about, he felt like a creep already, but you just… Smelled really nice. Like vanilla, mixed with something sweet. He realized he hadn’t answered your question yet and was just staring in front of him like a weirdo. “O-Oh, yeah, that’s uh… That’s Spider-man. It’s this… This superhero I like.” He adjusted the strap of his backpack to keep his hands busy.

You smiled and rolled your eyes. “Duh, I know who Spider-man is, please.” You couldn’t help but think he was doing anything to avoid looking into your eyes, as if you’d turn him to stone if he dared to do so. Which, yes, was exactly how he felt.

“I wanted to know which comic that was from. The art style looks a lot different than the ones I’ve seen.” Now this part was pretty much making his teenage brain short circuit. He probably didn’t hear that right, there’s no way a popular girl like you read comics, right? This had to be some kind of elaborate joke, like you were trying to pull a prank on him by making him ramble about his favorite superheroes. However, he wasn’t close minded. Even if this was a prank, at least you were talking to him, right?

“Yeah, sorry, I uh… Forget he’s a pretty popular character sometimes. This one’s from a collector’s edition. One of the pages was kinda falling apart so I just… Taped my favorite panel to my locker.” Again, he tried to look anywhere else, but it felt rude not to be making eye contact with the person who’s trying to give you a chance at a conversation. His eyes met yours and he realised he hadn’t ever actually seen you up close like this. You were really pretty, he knew that, but he never noticed these particular things about you before. The way your hair framed your features so nicely, the little beauty mark that seemed to be somehow perfectly placed, or the way a dimple appeared on your right cheek when you smiled.

“Hopefully you didn’t pay too much for it, those things cost like, a fortune.” You followed, snapping him out of his haze as you twirled a piece of hair between your index and middle finger. Dave was much taller than you, so you had to look up to match his gaze, which was already hard since he kept avoiding your eyes. You never realized how much he’d matured since freshman year. He looked pretty cute… Really cute, actually. 

“S-So, uhm, I really don‘t wanna be rude, but…” He closed his locker before looking at you with a rather awkward expression. “Why are you here? Why are you… talking to me?” Honestly, not an unjustified question. Dave was often the subject of bullying, and the popular girls clique made no exception to that rule. He doesn’t remember you specifically doing anything, although... He has a vague memory of you being in the car with those jocks when they threw spoiled milk at him.

“What? A girl can’t talk to her fellow classmate? This is a free country, you know.” You pretended to be a little hurt by his assumption that you were probably just here to make fun of him. In all honesty he was still a little dumbfounded by this whole ordeal, and the fact that half the people that passed you were giving you two weird looks really wasn’t helping. “You know I sit behind you in English, right?” He responds by nodding. He is painfully aware of this fact, as your friends had expressed their empathy for you when your seat was assigned behind him, though you honestly didn’t mind. And also the fact that he got a fair share of gossip from you and your best friend always whispering to each other. “Well,” you flipped a bit of hair over your shoulder. “I saw you had a copy of Birth of Venom in your backpack, and I... Wanted to ask if I could borrow it...” You looked to the side, muttering the last part. As much as you tried not to care what people thought, you did have a bit of a reputation that you were stuck to. Liking comics wasn’t for you, you were a cheerleader, you went to parties, you liked shopping. Okay, you secretly liked comics.

Dave looked at you with a puzzled expression. “I-I’m sorry, can you repeat tha--”

“Can I borrow your stupid comic or what?” You interrupted him, clearly looking a bit embarrassed. 

“Oh!” His face was getting hot, this conversation was lasting way longer than he imagined it would. Usually he’d have his face shoved into his locker by now. “U-Uhm, sure! It’s a bit expensive, but... Well, just don’t damage it, please.” He took his backpack off his shoulder and was about to pull it out before you grabbed his arm. 

“Not here you dumbass! Just, like... Ugh, meet me at my car after school’s over, you can hand it to me then.” You were acting like this was some kind of illegal drug deal, but this truly was something important to you. Your dad had already made it very clear that he didn’t want his little girl becoming some kind of tomboy and have her mind run rampant with superhero stories. Especially with this Kickass guy running around...

The bell rang and you silently thanked it for doing so. “Look, I gotta go. White Corvette, by the vending machines.” You walked past him, and a waft of that lovely vanilla scent hit his nose. He damn near melted into the floor when your arm brushed against his. “Later, Lizewksi.”

You leaned against the hood of your car, scrolling on your phone as you waited for the brunette to show up. You couldn’t help but feel a little guilty that you were just meeting him in secret like this. It’s not like you were embarrassed to be seen with him, or that you didn’t like him, it’s just that liking comics and superheroes was just about the dorkiest thing anyone could be into. Especially with Kickass running around, and, well, kicking ass, people would probably be thinking you’d be into this whole vigilante business yourself. Sure, you thought it was cool that people were doing something about all the crime, but you’d rather die than mess up your hair beating some thug’s ass. 

You noticed someone approaching and noticed that Dave wasn’t alone. With a bit of a disgusted expression, you gestured to his two sidekicks. “I don’t remember inviting the entire geek entourage to come see me. This isn’t some kinda meet and greet, you know.” Todd and Marty seemed, just like Dave before, a little shocked that you were talking to them. 

“S-Sorry, they just uh...” Dave began.

“We didn’t believe him.” Todd followed.

“...believe what?” You questioned, crossing your arms.

“That a chick like you was into comics.” Marty said, before Todd smacked him on the back of the head. “Dude! Don’t say it like that!”

You got a bit flustered, and looked at Dave. “You told them!? What the fuck, Lizewski?”

“I-I’m sorry!” He held up his hands. “They were asking me what we were talking about, and... I panicked.” They were more so insinuating that he was flirting with her, and he didn’t want that rumor going around, in case your jock brother caught wind of that and beat his ass for flirting with his sister.

You sighed, looking down and pinching the bridge of your nose before waving your hand out in a dismissive manner. “It’s... whatever, just leave. Before I change my mind and throw a bitch fit.” His two friends gave him a suggestive look before heading out. “Those two better not snitch or I’ll cut off their shrimps.” He nodded, just a little intimidated by the threat.

He got out his backpack and handed you the comic. “I’m still surprised I uh... I never knew you were into this stuff.” His breath hitched in his throat when your finger brushed over his as you took it from him. You flipped through it, keeping your eyes on the pages.

“Yeah, well... There’s a lot you don’t know about me, as much as I’m sure you guys love to assume.” You realized you hadn’t even told him your name, so you looked up at him and held out your hand, introducing yourself. You know, out of courtesy. 

“I-I know your name, but uhm... I’m Dave.” Your hand felt so soft, your beautifully manicured fingers being a real juxtaposition to his. His hand was much bigger and rougher than yours. You wondered why his hand was so calloused anyways... He didn’t look like he did many sports.

“Wait... Your name isn’t Lizewski?” You chuckled. “Christ, my bad... I always thought that was just your first name.” Your feeling of guilt for the boy before you flared up a bit again. He was being really nice to you, offering you something personal of his that he probably spent a pretty penny on. And you didn’t even know his actual name before. No wonder some people thought you were a bit of a bitch, you thought to yourself. 

“Hey, uhm... I know you got a bunch of these, and my dad would kill me if he knew I was reading them. He hates vigilantes, and he thinks reading comics will get me into the whole thing. Stupid, I know, but... He takes it surprisingly seriously.” You put the comic away carefully. “So I have a proposition for you.”

His eyebrows rose a little. A proposition, alright. No big deal. Could be literally anything though. 

“Come to my house this Saturday, bring a bunch of these, and I’ll tell my dad you’re coming to tutor me for physics or something.” You tilted your head a little, your locks falling gently over your shoulders. “I’ll pay you. Money’s not a problem. It’ll be like I’m renting them from you.”

He thought for a second, but in all honesty... How was this not a total win/win situation? He got to be in a pretty girl’s room, read comics with her, talk about them and make money. What kind of idiot would say no to that? “Yeah! Sounds good to me, uh... What do you want me to...” His words trailed off as you pulled out a pen and reached for his hand, writing a string of numbers on the back of it. 

“I’ll text you the address, and which series I like. I’ll let you do the picking. Oh, and Dave?”

“Y-Yeah?” He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. This is the closest you’ve ever stood to him. 

Your grip on his hand tightens, and you look up at him with a death stare. “Not a word to anyone about this.” You followed with a cutesy smile. “Alrighty?” You let go of his hand and put your stuff away before pulling out your car keys. 

Dave stands frozen in place, a faint blush already spread across his cheeks. He swore you were going to be the death of him. He looked down for a second and realized that what you wrote down wasn’t just some random numbers. It was your phone number. It all just suddenly felt very real to him, he’d never gotten a girl’s number before. And you were just about the last person he’d expect it from too.

You got in your car and turned on your engine. “See ya on Saturday, Lizewski! Don’t be late or I’ll kill you!” You smile, before driving off at a totally normal and acceptable speed. 

He gave a nervous wave before he looked back down at his hand. There was a little heart scribbled behind the phone number. It probably meant nothing.

But boy did it make his heart flutter. 

[baronessvonglitter]

The Haunting of David York

Dave York x ghost!reader

Word count: 2.6K

Summary: It's a typical Halloween night for Dave. The last thing he expects is for you to come back and get your revenge.

(Spoilers below the cut, so resume with caution)

WARNINGS: Rated M; Dead Dove Do Not Eat; mentions of wet work, murder, brief gore, threats of violence towards family, major character death (don't hit me)

Author's Note: this fic is for @mermaidgirl30 Jamie's Halloween Writing Challenge 👻 thank you for hosting this lovely fic challenge!

The idea for this started out as a random discussion about why we're afraid of ghosts if they can't really hurt anyone.. then I wanted to add our favorite suburban murder daddy to a ghost story and got some inspo from watching old school stuff like Creepshow and early seasons of AHS. (I haven't written horror in a very long time, so gimme a little break)

Shoutout to @yorksgirl for the Dave chit chats-- there will be a sweatpants scene in another fic, promise!

"Dave, not again!" Carol whines from the front steps.

"What?" he asks innocently, hefting the human-sized 'body bag' consisting of garbage bags stuffed with leaves and tied up with duct tape to fashion a corpse decoration in the yard for Halloween. Dave has been working on them all day. He's now up to seventeen.

"The HOA is going to complain," his wife shakes her head. "We got away with a warning last year. This time they'll definitely fine us."

"It's worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces," he insists. "Besides, I'll have them picked up and out of sight by the end of the night. I promise."

Dave doesn't love Halloween, but neither does he mind it. People dressing up to be anything other than themselves for one night only? Try doing that 24/7.

He doesn't get to parade around the Mr. Hyde aspect of his life. He doesn't get to knock on doors while in tactical gear, sniper rifle resting in one arm while he sticks an orange jack-o-lantern bucket out to get a handful of tooth-rotting sweets. He doesn't get to wake up on November first and pretend it was all for fun.

It's a silly holiday, but he likes scaring the shit out of the neighbors with the decorations. And his kids love planning their costumes months in advance. Alice is going as a zombie cheerleader (he never understands where these ideas come from) and Molly is some type of Pokemon Dave thinks is a squirrel but she insists is something called an Evoo or Evie or something completely asinine.

Carol usually insists on taking them out trick-or-treating, dressing up herself in a last-minute Minnie Mouse getup, a red sweater and black leggings, and a headband with sequined mouse ears to complete the look.

"You'll be okay here by yourself?" she asks, putting the finishing touches on her mouse whiskers and nose with liquid eye liner in the hall mirror as the girls wait impatiently to leave.

She asks that every year, as if something bad will happen on his watch, as if he can't hack it alone for a couple of hours.

"Unless Michael Myers or Pennywise show up, I'm pretty sure I'll be fine," he says, giving the girls a quick kiss before they go.

"What's Pennywise?" Alice asks as Carol herds them out the door, and she shoots her husband an annoyed glance.

There aren't as many trick-or-treaters this year, and Dave regrets that he'd bought so much candy. He dips his hand into the large tub of mini chocolate bars and fruit-flavored chews that stick to one's teeth and selects some Nerds, eating them straight from the tiny box. With barely concealed disgust he finds the candy corn, plucking the small packets of the hated sweets out from the bowl. He doesn't know how anyone can eat these. These can go to the next kids who ring the doorbell. When the next round of costumed kids come around he gives out huge handfuls. The less sweets they have in the house, the less sugar-fueled meltdowns he's likely to experience from his kiddos.

When there's more of a lull he relaxes on the sofa, mindlessly unwrapping a chocolate bar as the Halloween song hums from the TV, The Nightmare Before Christmas playing where the girls had left it on:

Boys and girls of every age wouldn't you like to see something strange? come with us and you will see this, our town of Halloween

He finds his glass of Macallan pairs nicely with a mini Hershey's Special Dark chocolate that he knows the little trick-or-treaters won't appreciate. The candy rests on his tongue as he savors the lingering taste of the scotch while the movie keeps playing. He absorbs a little of it, a now thirty-year-old film that came out when he was his kids' age. He watches idly, letting the scotch lull him into a nice semi-rest.

This is Halloween, this is Halloween pumpkins scream in the dead of night this is Halloween, everybody make a scene trick or treat, 'til the neighbors gonna die of fright

Enough of the singing. He changes the channel. There's postseason baseball on TV, but his favorite team isn't in the playoffs, and the announcers are annoying. Click. Of course there's a horror marathon on every channel. All the Scream movies, which he can appreciate for their ingenuity, Psycho, Shaun of the Dead, the entire Friday the 13th franchise even though it's Thursday, the 31st.

He flips channels, mindlessly, watching tidbits of each, digging into the leftover candy once again when he hears a thud.

With feline alertness he mutes the TV and sits up straight in one swift move. He zones in on where the sound came from, waiting, his racing heart the most audible sound in his ears.

Most people listen for a sound and relax when they don't hear it again, chalking it up to the house settling, or a rodent in the attic. But Dave knows better. He's been on the opposite side of this type of situation countless times. He doesn't relax and just chalk it up to mundane things like other people, because he knows there are guys like him out there-- becoming one with the shadows, as silent as possible--

It's coming from the back door.

In stealth mode, he grabs his gun from the safe in his study and quickly, skillfully, loads it. Adrenaline sings in his veins, carries him towards the danger. He flips on the light switch for the patio and the lights glare into the dark, lighting up nothing. His gun is still in his hand as he slowly opens the door, listening for footsteps.

Quiet.

A little disappointed that he's gotten riled up for no reason, he sighs as the rush of adrenaline dissipates and leaves him weak for a brief moment.

He keeps the gun in the holster at his side as he returns to the sofa, a little more on edge. It could be just teenage assholes playing pranks out of boredom, but he doesn't want to risk it.

He shuts the TV off and the silence becomes the largest thing in the room, even louder than his thoughts. He's taut as wire, not allowing himself to relax just yet. He's listening for more sounds. Most are explainable: a slow drip in the kitchen sink that Carol told him about just yesterday, the notification pings on his daughter's tablet that she left on the dining room table.

"Fuck!" he curses in surprise as the TV turns on, The Nightmare Before Christmas still playing where it left off:

I am the one hiding under your bed, teeth ground sharp and eyes glowing red I am the one hiding under your stairs fingers like snakes and spiders in my hair

Dave quickly snaps the TV off, removing the batteries from the remote.

It's just some electrical glitch he tells himself. And then the power goes out completely.

"Shit," he mutters, using his phone to light the way to locate the real flashlight. It's not in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink where it's supposed to be left. Carol must have moved it. He checks the garage. Through the windows he can see the neighbors still have power, so he grabs the trusty flashlight and checks the breaker box. After fiddling with it, it won't reset. The flips do absolutely nothing.

Heaving a frustrated sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose, taking out his phone from his pocket. The battery shows 1% before fizzling out to a black screen with the gray spinning wheel before dying.

"You've got to be shitting me," he grumbles. With another curse, he shoves the useless thing back in his pocket, letting the flashlight guide him out of the garage. He may as well get the keys and go try to find Carol and the girls, who are probably several blocks over by now, maybe get them to stay at her mother's place while he gets things sorted out with the power issue.

And then..

he hears the sound of his name spoken, a sharp. accusatory whisper, as if it's right next to him. It's so real he can feel the cold breath against his ear. It makes him jump out of his skin.

Alert, his body tense and ready for action, his eyes dart around the room as he begins to get his bearings back and his heart goes back to its normal rhythm.

Stupid.. he curses himself, sitting upright again. Annoyance colors his face.

But the sound of it.. of your voice still rings in his ear. And he'd know your voice among a thousand others.

Now he knows he's imagining things, because it couldn't have been your voice at all.

You're dead.

He doesn't want to think about that day, a cold autumn day just like this. In fact it'll be one year exactly on November 14th. The last day you saw sunlight, the last day you ever breathed.

It's not that you were bad, you were just in the way. There was no room for you in Dave's perfect, clock-precision life. He tried to make your end painless, make sure you didn't see it coming.

Some secrets don't stay buried forever..

Nobody knows he assures himself. It's impossible.. He'd even kept it from his teammates, and they knew nearly every damn thing about him.

No, this particular job.. the handling of you, had to be done on his own.

Casting a glance at the backyard patio again, the light from his neighbor's back porch glows eerily, spotlighting the patch of earth Dave had avoided until finally he'd caved and erected a bird bath with a small garden, a surprise for Carol's birthday. His wife never suspected that you were buried there, beneath her gift.

Without thinking, he's already walking outside, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other, leading the way to your grave. He never comes out here anymore. The guilt has become too crushing and he's not a man who dwells on guilt. He does what he has to and revisits the issue if problems arise.

You won't arise, though. When he closes his eyes he can still see the bullet hole in your temple, the blank look as the light left your eyes.

Forgive me, he'd thought, unable to speak it aloud as he stuffed your body in a bag and placed you in the dirt on a moonless autumn night.

When he reaches the stone path that leads to your innocent-looking grave marker, he has to process what he sees:

there's a hole in the ground, where some of the rocks and flowers around the bird bath have been upheaved, and in the breeze his flashlight shines on a tattered, empty black body bag. The scent of death greets his nostrils as he pales, trying not to vomit.

He goes back to the house, immediately on the defensive, irrationally expecting to find you there, clothes dirty and hair caked with mud and blood, a specter of his own paranoia and guilt.

It's still shrouded in darkness, the home that is supposed to be his shelter from such dark things as yourself. It's his domain, his castle, and in this trouble, without his family, he feels like less of a king.

"There's no fucking way," he mutters, stomach roiling with fear and suspicion. He opens the patio door and steps inside.

The whole place smells of death, of the grave.

You're in every corner, quiet, waiting, watching. But not impassive.

He feels you everywhere, himself made small by your ubiquitous pall. The gun in his hand feels useless, and this makes him angry.

You feed off his anger. You love it. It's the only thing you can feel anymore. Pure, unadulterated hate.

You slither towards him, wicked grin growing bigger as you approach him. Dave gets the chills down his back, not knowing just how close you are to him.

"Boo" you whisper lightly, ghostly breath caressing the shell of his ear.

Your cackling thunders in his ears as he whips around, eyes wide with fright. You delight in the fear he's giving off. The scent of it it so intoxicating. It's the only good thing about being dead.

"I should make your death as nice and quick and clean as you made mine" your voice echoes all around the room. Dave looks equal parts pissed and afraid as he tries to track you.

"But I won't."

You've been waiting for this night, this one unholy night where you'd be allowed to come back, to gather the unearthly powers granted to you. Halloween: the one night of the year when the living come back to haunt the dead.

And the son of a bitch had the gall to kill you in November. You had to wait almost a whole year for your revenge.

Gonna make it sweet.

It takes a lot of energy to assume something of a human form, but as you grab onto the fear he's giving off, as you use the most ancient of forces to pull your corporeal parts together, it gets easier. You don't feel afraid. You haven't, not since he killed you.

"Consider yourself lucky it's only you I'm after. If I had my way your family's blood would be splattered on these walls along with yours."

Dave shivers violently. "Please, don't!" He's not used to begging or pleading. He's actually on his knees. He tries not to look at you; your visage is too grotesque. Your flesh is falling off your face and your eyes are sunken into your head, giving a ghoulish appearance.

You force his gaze upon you with the ice-cold touch of your hand. "Your family is safe. For now. Hell, there's always next Halloween."

With the cracking open of his ribcage and the spilling of his guts you reach into him, finding the fullness of the heart, the organ he uses the least.

All Dave can do is scream and scream and scream.

The next day Carol sits at the dining room table, two detectives with her. Her coffee has grown cold, barely touched. She still bears the remnants of the makeup she'd put on to complete her costume last night. The girls are upstairs. She couldn't bear sending them to school, having them apart from her. Not while Dave is missing.

"He was fine last night. Normal," she adds, shrugging as she dabs at her eyes with a Kleenex.

Because of his position as a government agent, his disappearance is being taken very seriously. Officers are en route, dispatched to start searching the area, especially the nearby woods, which Carol has always feared.

Dave's gun is there, his wallet, phone, and keys also left behind.

One of the field officers comes in (there have been many people coming in and out of the house today) and motions to the backyard. "Halloween decoration?"

"Yeah," Carol sniffles, smiling just a little. "Dave likes to shock the neighbors. He promised he'd put them away before the morning.. but he never puts them out back.."

Out of guilt, or maybe just to give herself something to do, she gets up and goes to put the decorations away. The detectives follow.

Funny. There's just one.. she thinks, looking at the lone body bag on the lawn, tossed haphazardly next to her bird bath.

It's heavier than she expects. She's too petite to pick it up. Sighing, she kneels, the crunch of the fallen leaves beneath her knees. She'll just take the leaves out and throw the bag away.

Ripping it open with her nails she's stunned a moment, not processing what she's seeing before she lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Wrapped up in the duct taped body bag is what's left of Dave.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

tagging @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @milla-frenchy @salingers @zascal

[beescake]

EVIL FUCKED UP KARKAT..HEH...JUST A LOOK INTO MY SICK AND TWISTED MIND...

have u read

Thoroughbred - egomaniac - Homestuck [Archive of Our Own]

literally my #1 fave most beloved dvkt fic heheh thanks for the opening! ive been itching for the chance to recc it (even dvkt antis 🫵 ur gonna like this one kisskiss give it a chance)

[almostfoxglove]

pedro pascal cinematic universe aus 5/?

the one where dave york sets sail for revenge. (insp)