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guiltyasdave · 13 days ago

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poison either way

pairing: Dave York x f!reader x Javier Peña

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Agent Peña walks in on you and Dave taking a bit of an... unusual break.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be grabbed, no use of y/n, dom!Dave, kinda dom!Javi, unprotected p in v, rough oral (m receiving), threesome, spitroasting, dirty talk, gun play, exhibitionism, nipple play, cum eating, no man on man action and i apologise for that, the plot is three raccoons in a trenchcoat don't overthink it okay (i know i didn't)

disclaimer so that no one feels the need to get weird in my inbox: in real life, this would not be okay. while they’re all extremely into it, javi gets thrust into a situation that he had no chance to consent to, and we have no knowledge if dave and reader discussed something like this prior either. however, this is straight up porn, not a guide on how to do safe bdsm sex.

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality for beta'ing this baby and for not getting annoyed with me when i've talked about this for literal months 😭

dividers by the amazing @saradika-graphics <3

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

You’re hot, too fucking hot. Sweat clings to every crevice of your body, the fabric of your blouse thick and sticky against your skin.

The room is windowless, the air heavy, stale with old cigarette smoke. Heated up further by the annoyance prickling under your skin, desperate for a way out.

With a huff, you let the file you’ve been reading slam onto the table in front of you. More like trying to read, really. It’s a mess of crumpled pages, words hastily smashed into a typewriter, littered with typos that you’re trying to decipher. You peer at the box of files on the ground beside you, waiting for you to go through.

“This is bullshit,” you sigh. Tired fingertips find your temples, willing the growing ache behind your forehead to disappear. “He’s probably halfway across the globe by now, and we’re here doing this—”

Your partner looks up slowly. His brow creased with concentration, his eyes still focused and his back rigidly straight even after hours of being holed up in this poor excuse of an archive.

The only sign to indicate any discomfort at all are the sleeves of his shirt, carefully rolled up and revealing his forearms. So he’s not completely immune to the heat at least.

“Do you have a better idea?”

He sounds calm, collected. Genuinely interested, even. Not an ounce of the frustration that you think might make your skin burst soon.

“Well, no, but—”

You’re wound up tightly, like a coil just waiting to snap. You’ve been on this case for months, with no solid leads, chasing the vaguest of cues at this point. It’s how you ended up in this closet-like room of the embassy in Colombia, brooding over files, hoping against hope to uncover something you don’t already know.

“You’re too stressed, baby.”

Slowly, he rises to his feet and crosses the short distance to where you’re slumped in your chair. His hands land heavy on your shoulders. You lean into them, let the weight sink you down. With a quiet nod, your head falls back, connects with the broadness of his torso behind you.

“Want me to help with that?”

You arch an eyebrow, regard the upside down vision of his face that you look up to when you crane your neck. Temptation drips from his tone, sweet and heavy.

“What, here?”

His fingers wrap around your throat, a light touch, for now, but laced with the promise of what he can do to you.

“Yes, here.” He leans down, the breath of his low voice ghosting against your ear. “Don’t pretend like you haven’t thought about it.”

“Dave—”

He nips at your skin, chuckles when a shudder runs through you.

“Honestly, I’m pretty stressed myself. Frustrated, even.” He pouts at you, one corner of his mouth twitching when you sigh. “Don’t you want to help me feel better, baby?”

Truthfully, you really fucking do. No one unwinds you like Dave, no one knows what you need the way he does. You eye the door, the thin barrier separating you from the rest of the building, probably still bustling with people. But no one has been in here all day. Or the day before, for that matter. Fuck it.

The small nod you give Dave isn’t enough, of course it’s not.

“Ask nicely, then.”

You turn around, facing him where he’s standing behind you.

“Please, let me help you feel better.”

You’re out of breath, already. He smirks, his eyes slowly trailing over the exposed part of skin where your chest is rising and falling.

“And how would you do that, baby?”

Your voice is growing smaller, but you welcome the change. Let go for a bit. Let him take the reins.

“I’d let you fuck me.” You look up at him through your lashes, satisfied when a muscle in his jaw twitches. “However you want.”

Taking a step back, he leans against the desk you were working on, his arms crossing over his broad chest. If you didn’t know him so well, you’d mistake the cold mask over his face for disinterest.

“Lock the door,” he demands. His tone is clipped, the one he uses to give commands, the one that doesn’t allow backtalk.

Unsteadily, you rise to your feet. The lock clicks, and you turn back to where he’s watching you, still like a statue.

“Down.” Without objection, you drop to your knees. He smirks, then snaps his fingers once, the sharp sound gathering the attention of your slowly disintegrating mind. “Come here.”

You do, crawling over the hard floor until you’re right down at his feet, watching him tower over you. Thoughts are draining from your head, the tension in your shoulders dropping. It’s so nice to give up responsibility, to let someone else call all the shots, to let yourself fall, just for a little while. Like you can finally breathe.

“You know, I always fuck you however I want. It’s not that special of an offer.”

The skin around his eyes crinkles as he smiles down at you. Only a little mocking, when his fingers dig into your jaw, prying your mouth open. You follow his movements obediently, opening wide for whatever he’ll give you.

He crouches down a little, and you whine deep in your throat, your eyes pleading silently. Your spine straightens, every part of you aching to be closer to him. His smile widens. Clearly mocking now, clearly enjoying every second of your humiliation for him.

“What, baby?” he coos, one finger trailing over your cheek gently, as if to soothe you. “Want me to spit in your mouth, hm?”

Another sound escapes you, all needy and desperate. Yes, you really fucking want that.

He clicks his tongue, straightens back up. “Maybe later.”

Before you can protest, two of his thick fingers fill your mouth instead, pressing down on your tongue, invading your senses, overwhelming in the very best way. Your lips close around the digits almost instinctively, sucking obediently before he can give the command.

He grins, sinking deeper, close to triggering your gag reflex. Your eyelids flutter shut at the sensation, a moan humming around his fingers.

“Nuh-uh,” he growls, his fingers curling, pressing down uncomfortably. “Eyes on me, you know better than that.”

You open them back up instantly, wide blown pupils finding his. Tears leak down your cheeks and he catches some of them with his thumb, rubbing them into your skin.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” His thumb locks under your chin instead, making you nod. “Complaining all day long, when you could use your mouth for this instead…”

Your knees already feel bruised against the unforgiving hardness of the floor. His fingertips keep hitting your throat repeatedly now, making you gag again and again. Drool is dribbling down the corner of your mouth. Still, your panties are soaked through, sticking to your skin. Your hips are humping against thin air, desperate for something, anything. You know better than to slip your fingers under your skirt without permission, and you certainly know better than to stop sucking and ask, but he must be able to read the pleading in your eyes.

Abruptly, he pulls his fingers out, unceremoniously wiping them clean on your cheek, leaving you damp with your own spit. “Up,” he barks, already roughly pulling at you before you have time to react.

He spins you around so quickly that you’re still getting your bearings when you’re bent over, your torso pressing against the cold table, with Dave in your back. He flips your skirt up, revealing your bare ass and landing two sharp slaps there.

You gasp out in pain, but feel your back arching, already wishing for more. Instead, he kicks your feet apart, spreading your legs further. His finger runs over your ruined panties, all teasing lightness, playing with your hole with the slightest of pressure.

“Always so fucking wet,” he marvels, his voice gravelly with arousal. “I barely touched you, baby. You get that worked up just from sucking on my fucking fingers?”

You whine out an affirmative, your voice trailing off when he pulls the fabric to the side and slides his fingers through your folds without a barrier.

“Can’t keep that slutty pussy waiting then,” he grits out, and the familiar clinking of his belt buckle reaches your ears, followed by a zipper getting undone.

You brace for the impact of him entering you. Dave never takes his time, never works you open beforehand. He likes to toy with you in other ways, likes to get you desperate before he fucks you. But you both enjoy the biting stretch of his cock spreading you open without preparation, the way it pushes the air from your lungs, always just on the right side of painful.

His hand finds your hip, holding you steady while the other lands on your back, pushing your body flat against the rough surface. Then, he slams into you. You stifle a scream into your fist, your back arching further to accommodate him.

He holds still for a moment, groaning at your walls fluttering around him, before he pulls back. Only his tip stays wedged inside you, before he fills you up again, over and over. His hand travels from your back to the back of your head, pushing down, smothering you under the overpowering mass of his body.

“Fuck,” he growls behind you. His fingers dig into your hip hard, adding to the delicious pain only he can incite in you. He’s so deep, hitting all the spots no one ever seemed to be able to find before him.

You’re shaking, your pussy pulsing around him, all wet and needy, already embarrassingly close to an orgasm. One that he won’t let you have just like that, not a doubt.

Through the haze, the sound of a key getting crammed into the lock from the other side interrupts you. The door swings open, revealing tanned skin, dark hair and brown eyes, widened at the picture in front of him. Agent Peña, your contact at the embassy, who, rather begrudgingly, had shown you around two days ago and finally dropped you off at this archive room. You hadn’t seen him since, though he did float around your head quite a few times.

He’d reminded you of Dave, in a way. The same strong nose, the same dark brooding eyes, the same no nonsense attitude. The same pouty lips, though his are framed by a moustache that you’d pay good money to see on Dave. Maybe you have wondered if they’d taste the same, too. Maybe you’d crushed on him, just a little.

With that being said, no part of you had envisioned having him catch you like this.

But you’re already too far gone to be embarrassed, all coherent thoughts melted away as soon as Dave put his hands on you. You hear Dave’s grin in his voice from behind you, his thrusts never faltering, still punching breathy moans from your throat, jostling your body against the table over and over.

“Agent Peña. You wanna give her a go when I’m finished?”

His fingers dig into the flesh of your shoulder, pulling you up against his chest. Your blouse falls open wider, baring the lace of your bra to the other agent. Dave pinches a nipple over the fabric, the breath of his chuckle hot against your neck when you mewl in reaction.

“Best stress toy I’ve ever had.”

“Dave—“ you protest weakly, hoping against hope that he misses the new rush of wetness that followed his words.

He pinches harder, his teeth scraping over your neck.

“Sorry, who?” You whine, shame tying your tongue. Dave tuts at you, his touch not letting up. “Mind your manners, baby.”

“Sir,” you grit out, voice stuttering with his still unrelenting thrusts.

His lips pull into another grin against your skin, one you wish that you could see.

“That’s better.”

The other agent –Javier, you remember now– appraises you, his gaze slowly gliding over you, resting on your exposed cleavage. The corner of his mouth curls into a smirk.

“Interesting investigation that you’re conducting here, Agent York.”

Dave chuckles, giving you another thrust that has your hips digging into the table and a moan tumbling from your lips.

“Just taking a little break,” he purrs against your neck, pulling at your blouse again.

Javier’s smirk widens, and he steps closer. His eyes darken as he takes you in, the swell of your breasts that Dave is putting on display for him, and the pleasure-drunk expression on your face.

His gaze is burning with hunger, his brow slightly furrowed, and God, he’s beautiful. “Is this really okay?” His fingers glide over the fabric that’s barely covering you, one eyebrow rising in question. You love the way he sounds, his voice wrapping around words softer than Dave’s does, his tone thick as honey with arousal.

“Yes,” you nod, enthusiastically, pulling your shoulders back to show yourself off. “Please, I want it.”

With a low groan, his fingers find your bare skin, cupping your tits, weighing them in his hands. “More,” you beg, your voice breathy and laced with desperation, and he chuckles. He pulls your breasts out of the cups, groping them, watching as the flesh spills through his fingers. His thumbs start stroking your nipples, which harden instantly under his ministrations. He starts scratching his fingernails over the sensitive tips, eliciting soft moans from you, until he gives them a sharp pinch that has you keening.

“Do that again,” Dave rasps from behind you, thrusting into you right to the hilt and holding himself there. “Made her clench so good.” His hand rubs up your back, almost soothingly, until he reaches your hair and gives your head a harsh tug. “She likes it when it hurts, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes, sir,” you mewl, feeling your walls tighten when Javier’s fingers torment your nipples again.

In front of you, you eye the growing bulge under the agent’s tight jeans, your mouth watering. He follows your line of sight, smugness dripping from his grin as he slowly starts undoing his pants.

His cock springs free, heavy and already leaking precum at the tip. You watch as if in trance, eyes trailing over the thick shaft and the dark hairs, the faint musk of him invading your senses. Nothing but want want want on your mind, you eagerly open your mouth, your tongue lapping at him as soon as he’s in reach. He tastes almost too good, only adding to the haze in your brain.

He groans when you start sucking him, hollowing your cheeks and trying to fit as much of him as possible in your mouth. His hand sinks into your hair, holding your head steady, your lips stretched wide around his girth. You moan around him every time Dave thrusts into you particularly hard, jostling you between them, until Dave’s hand connects with your ass once more.

“You can do better than that,” he snarls, shoving your whole body forward when he pistons into you again. Javier’s cock hits the back of your throat and you gag, but you’re determined to make him feel good, to suck harder, just like Dave ordered you to.

You can’t see, your eyes blurry with tears and every coherent thought gone from your brain, but Javier must’ve had some kind of reaction, because you hear Dave say, “Don’t worry, she’s fine. She’s into this shit.”

You try to nod in response and they both laugh. “I can tell,” Javier moans, sinking even deeper.

Slowly, you’re becoming overwhelmed, disoriented, your head dizzy with all the sensations. Your mouth filled to the brim, Dave slamming into you again and again, your nipples rubbing against the table and adding to the buzzing that’s overtaking your whole body. Feeling you growing tighter, Dave lands one more spank on your ass, and it’s like all your nerve endings light up at once.

You don’t know where you end and they begin, only endless waves of pleasure running through you, propelling you higher and higher. You’re screaming around Javier’s cock, no concern about who might hear, only more more more.

He gets more comfortable by the second, holding your head in a tight grip now and fucking into your mouth. You’re growing limp, your body spent, but you keep sucking obediently. All you know is pleasure and the need to give it to them, your mind far away from any other thoughts. With a grunt, he presses against the back of your head and comes deep down your throat, his cock pulsing against your tongue. You swallow eagerly, savoring the taste as best as you can, until he steps back, catching his breath.

Your face is a wet mess of tears and drool when Dave pulls back as well. The sudden unexpected movement and the loss of him make you wince, looking back at him in surprise.

“Didn’t give you permission to come, did I?!” he snarls, grabbing at your shoulder until you’re upright, pressed against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” you try, your voice hoarse from the throatfucking you just endured. “It was all too much—”

“You’re not sorry,” he coos sweetly, kissing your cheek, “but you will be.”

Dave maneuvers you up onto the desk, pushing your skirt up entirely and finally pulling your panties down your legs. Javier’s hands are on you instantly, holding you up and roaming over your skin, while Dave goes to rummage through his bag.

“Sit tight baby, I got a treat for you.”

You lean into the solid chest behind you, Javier’s skin hot against yours. One arm wraps around your front, pulling you closer. His fingers dip down to circle your nipple agonizingly slow. The table’s edge digs into your thighs where you’re seated against it, but you barely feel it.

You squirm against him, earning you a breathy chuckle against the crook of your neck. His other hand finds your inner thigh, pulling your legs apart. Baring you, presenting you to the man in front of you.

Dave’s jaw is clenched, fire burning in his dark eyes as he takes you in. Slowly stepping closer, gaze locked on where you’re dripping for the both of them.

“Insatiable little thing. Two cocks and you still need more, huh?”

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. But if Dave teases who about more, you want it. No question.

His cock is still hard and leaking, taunting you, feeding the needy ache inside of you. Instead, when he shows his hands, he’s carrying the gun that’s part of his daily equipment. Your eyes widen, your jaw falling open. He had teased you about this before, laughed at how wet you had gotten at the prospect. But now?

He steps closer, caressing your cheek, achingly gentle. “Are you scared, baby?”

“A little,” you admit, nodding, your voice timid.

His voice loses the teasing lilt, his hand cupping your face tenderly. “Do you wanna stop?”

You think it over, just like he taught you to. Searching what you want, not what you think he wants to hear. “No,” you decide. You give him a conspiratory little smile, one that grows with the spark it ignites in his eyes. “It’s exciting.”

“Good girl.” A biting slap makes your head fly to the side, all tenderness drained from his demeanor in an instant.

Javier’s hand holds your chin, turns your head forward again. You feel his hot breath against your neck, his teeth scraping against the skin. The fingers of his other hand are still tormenting your nipples, tugging and pinching, until it takes everything inside you not to squirm. Your arousal keeps flowing from your pussy, coating your thighs and probably collecting on the surface beneath you.

Dave comes closer, his fingers curled around the weapon in his hand. Your breath hitches when it connects with your skin. He draws a trail, from your belly up to your breasts, circling one nipple and nudging it with the unforgiving steel. You jerk in Javier’s hold, already too pent up to sit still again.

Tutting at you, Dave follows the trail down again, tapping the gun against your inner thigh, making you spread your legs even wider. He slides it through your wetness, your thighs quivering at every contact.

“Big stretch, baby.”

The grin on Dave’s face is lethal, all sharp teeth and bite. The cold metal nudges at your opening, the unfamiliar shape not slipping in as easily as his cock did.

Finally, your walls part for him, letting the gun sink inside, stretching you uncomfortably wide. He starts moving it, slower than he fucked you before, but still rough enough to have your breaths come unsteadily, laced with moans somewhere between pain and pleasure. His own hand moves over his cock, stroking in rhythm with the thrusts.

The gun’s edges are sharp, the shape hard and unyielding, forcing its way inside you over and over. Still, your blood is thrumming in your veins, the sensations from your cunt and from Javier’s hands on your nipples swirling together into a heady mix, threatening to shatter you.

Javier starts sucking at your neck while palming your tits, his nails digging into the sensitive flesh. Dave’s eyes are glued to where his gun keeps sliding into your pussy, messy and glistening with the juices of your arousal. A cruel fascination is written over his features.

“Fucking slut, you’ll really take anything up there, huh?”

You can only nod, holding on to the last bits of yourself before pleasure will swallow you whole.

“Can I— please sir, can I come?” you manage to choke out, not sure if you could stop if he says no.

“Go ahead,” he growls, giving the gun a particularly rough thrust that sends you flying to your high. Your mouth falls open, your whole body soaring with the intensity.

Dave’s eyes roll back at the sight, and with a few more strokes, he follows you over the edge. He comes all over your spent pussy, your spread legs, his cum mixing with your wetness. His body slumps forward, his arms on either side of you, his head falling against your sternum. Holding him there, you lean back against Javier, all three of you breathing heavily, but satisfaction radiating from you.

Finally, you untangle from each other. Both men help you off the table, all soft, supporting touches now. There’s a mess where your open thighs have been. Smirking, you lean down to connect some of it on your tongue.

Javier is already half hard again, watching you with hooded eyes. You step up to him, pulling him in for a kiss. You let him taste the combination of Dave and you, delighted when he moans into your mouth and his hands tighten on your hip.

“You know where we’re staying, right?” you ask, giving him a wink. “We have no plans this evening.”

thank you so much for reading!! <3 i feel kinda silly and needy writing this, but i feel like the interaction with fanfics has gotten worse again, so please: if you enjoyed this, it would absolutely make my day if you told me. it really means so much and keeps fanfic writers going. i dreamed this up for myself, but putting it into (i hope) somewhat decent writing because i thought others might enjoy it too takes a lot of time and effort and it's really fucking nice to get some acknowledgment for that.

#janas fics #javier peña #dave york #javier peña fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #javier peña x reader #dave york x f!reader #javier peña x f!reader

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 1 month ago

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March Fic Recs

Hey there!

This is all I’ve read this month, listed in chronological order, I’ve done my best but damn, I’m so far behind in my tbr, as usual.

Read warnings and tags and if something is not for you just skip it, it’s simple and it can be done just by scrolling.

I reblog a lot of kinky +18 stuff because I like it, there’s Dead dove as well as Dub-con/Non-con here. Something might be triggering for you. I’m not responsible for what you choose to read, only you are. If you’re a minor, just stay away.

If you engage with any of these fic, please make sure to give authors love and appreciation by reblog and comments, it will take you probably two minutes but it means a lot to them. And always be kind, thoughtful and respectful while doing it, thanks.

❋ Make them kiss - @aurorawritestoescape / Drabble Javier Peña x f!reader

❋ Movie Nights - @aurorawritestoescape Joel Miller x f!reader

a movie night ends with a bang.

❋ Tied - @guiltyasdave Dave York x Marcus Pike

❋ Marrying Javi - @milla-frenchy / Drabble

❋ Keep on loving you - @baronessvonglitter Frankie Morales x f!reader

Hooking up with Frankie at a house party.

❋ The best part of waking up - @baronessvonglitter Any Pedro character X f!reader

sleepy morning sex with your favorite Pedro character (literally, imagine any character you want to, he's a blank slate!)

❋ I can’t hear it now - @joelmillerisapunk Marcus Acacius x f!reader

A love that was never meant to be. A choice that was never truly yours to make. Acacius was never yours to keep, yet in the dark of night, beneath the weight of duty and desire, he was yours still. For stolen moments, for whispered names, for aching hands tracing the lines of something fleeting, something doomed.

❋ Good kitty - @sizzlingcloudmentality Dave York x f!reader

Dave wants a cat but ends up with you. his favorite thing to do? letting the kitty drink fresh cream.

❋ Keep Driving - @thundermartini Dave York x f!reader

An unexpected stop in the middle of nowhere for an investigation on a Halloween Festival leads to the scariest encounter of your life.

❋ Perfect - @aurorawritestoescape Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel comforts you and helps you to overcome your insecurities, pampering you with praise and love.

❋ The wolf you feed (chapter 6) - Masterlist - @arcanefox207 Joel Miller x f!reader

Set in a fictional New England town, you fall for your handsome, intense and outdoorsy neighbor while renting out your parent's vacant summer home during a brutal winter.

❋ Paper rings - @guiltyasdave Modern Oberyn Martell X f!reader

after two months with oberyn, you're not sure if his feelings are as strong as yours.

❋ One of the girls - @gothcsz Marcus Acacius x F!Reader x 3 F!Nameless OCs

General Acacius has three women that he keeps solely for his indulgent pleasure and control, you want to become the fourth.

❋ First sight - @gothcsz Frankie Morales x f!reader

Two strangers discover they’ve been swapping movies through a communal space, each leaving a note in return until curiosity forces a meeting.

❋ Dirty thoughts - @greenwitchfromthewoods Clint (freaky tales) x f!reader

you watched a guy in a bar and your imagination went crazy

❋ The Prophecy - A Joel Miller Story - Mini series Masterlist - @schnarfer Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel Miller is the loss of your life

❋ Run - @almostempty Marcus Acacius x f!reader

general acacius hunts you in the woods for ‘training’ then fucks you, duh

❋ Strawberry Swirl - @baronessvonglitter Joel Miller x f!reader

Joel fucks you on a Ferris wheel. That is the fic.

❋ Out of control - @strang3lov3 Joel Miller x f!reader

making that old man swallow his own load

❋ Due - @cas-readsandwrites Unnamed Pedro character x f!reader

You're dancing with a handsome young man - and you shouldn't be. But is it really what it looks like?

❋ Clint eats it from the back - @almostempty Clint (Freaky Tales) x f!reader

clint comes home to find you half-naked and half-asleep and eats it from the back and then gives you that dick (as he should)

❋ Feasting - @sizzlingcloudmentality / Drabble Dave York x f!reader

❋ Sweet Surrender - @joelmillerisapunk Clint (Freaky Tales) x f!reader

your sleazy boss convinces you to fuck in the break room to a shitty porn tape he rented

❋ Dirty work - @mssalo Joel Miller x f!reader

You just bought a new house that needed a lot of work. Luckily, your grumpy old neighbor was more than happy to fix everything—not because he was generous, but because it gave him an excuse to be close. To look. To stare. And you? Love the attention.

❋ Playgirl - @milla-frenchy Javier Peña x f!reader

Attracted to your father's best friend since his return from Colombia, you finally get what you want

❋ Repenting - @sizzlingcloudmentality Dave York x f!reader

Dave and you, two utterly scarred people, meet for stress relieving sex only. But damn, it’s hard.

❋ Over the moon - @clubsoft Reed Richards X f!reader

reed richards has caught feelings for his student , making their casual , sexual relationship all the more difficult for himself .

❋ 2D - @clubsoft Joel Miller x POC! F! OC

joel miller , hearthrob turned silver fox , is ready to take a break from his life of fame && decides a penthouse in new york is the place to go , all to find himself bored until he stumbles into the building's charming bar ... && the cute performer is surely a plus .

❋ Let me show you - @pedroscurls Joel Miller x f!reader

joel comes home and shows you (and mainly himself) that age is nothing but a number.

❋ Knuckles deep in the backseat - @cxrsed-angel Joel Miller x fem!reader

Joel convinced you to learn how to drive and offers to teach you, but ends up in the back seat with you.

❋ Flex - @gothcsz Your favorite Pedro boy x f!reader

Hooking up with the guy you picked up at a party.

❋ Hands to myself - @gothcsz Javier Peña x f!reader

You get to know the handsome stranger sitting next to you on your overnight flight to Mexico.

❋ The interruption - @toxicanonymity Javi x Steve x you drabble.

❋ First fruit since winter - @cuppajoel Modern!Acacius x reader

You come out of the shower and apply lotion. Marcus wants to help.

❋ Got your money - @magpiepills Clint x f!reader

you’re a hooker who owes her pimp money and his right hand man, Clint comes to collect.

❋ Stolen Lunch - @aurorawritestoescape Dave York x f!reader

Dave steals your lunch

❋ See the road you’re on - Elks series chapter 1 - @whocaresstillthelouvre Joel Miller x f!reader

The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker... and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home.

❋ Blush / entry n.1 - @clubsoft Javier Peña x f!oc

Javi entangles a ribbon

❋ Just a ride -@baronessvonglitter DBF!Dave York x f!reader

When a date goes bad you call your dad's best friend Dave to come to the rescue.

❋ Don’t make me ask again - @arcanefox207

DBF!Joel Miller x female reader

Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences.

❋ Yellow - @probablyreadinsmut

Joel Miller x NeurodivergentF!Reader

Joel taking care of you after a hard day.

❋ Hungry Man Chapter 1 - @slimybeth69 / Masterlist

dark&sneaky!Joel, unhinged&crazy!reader

❋ Rotten Luck - @milla-frenchy

Javier Peña x fem!reader

forced to work for Escobar's men as a driver until the day you escape, a DEA agent finds you in the countryside, at the home of friends you've been hiding. You yearn to start over and get a visa, but things aren't so easy, especially when feelings complicate the situation

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #V March recs #fic recs list #march recs #ppcu fics #ppcu smut #ppcu fandom #joel miller #javier peña #frankie morales #dave york #clint freaky tales #marcus acacius #tim rockford #marcus pike #oberyn martell #reed richards

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laligraves · 8 months ago

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decisions

dave york x fem!reader

[18+] | wc: ~1.4k summary: Dave tries to end things. dave york masterlist | AO3

warnings: mean!dave, infidelity (dave is cheating on his wife with reader), Equalizer 2 AU, NSFW, some proofreading, no use of y/n or too many details on reader's appearance (reader has hair dave can pull), degradation, oral, unprotected sex, creampie, cum eating

a/n: i wasn't originally going to write for dave york but he's actually my favorite pedro boy 💖 i think he would be so mean and passionate and romantic and and and-

“I’m not here for that,” Dave snaps in anger. “We’re done, I can’t keep doing this anymore.”

You sit on the edge of the hotel bed, a pretty pout on your face at Dave’s words. Your fingers trace up your thigh and you slowly lift the bottom of your nightie.

Dave’s eyes flicker from your silky thighs to your tits that are dangerously close from spilling out of the thin fabric. His jaw clenches but he resumes his pacing and drags a hand through his hair.

“I think–I think my wife knows. She can’t–she’ll take the kids–”

His wife, Carol. He never says her name, only ever says wife. You assume it’s to remind himself of the oath he made to her. Maybe it’s shame and guilt, a way to keep himself grounded. Even if he doesn’t wear his ring when he comes to see you.

With a small smirk on your lips, you stand from the bed and make your way to Dave. He tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling just as you stand on your tippy toes and place your hands behind his neck.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

He closes his eyes and you see his throat move with a harsh swallow.

You run the tip of your nose along his jawline and breathe in his cologne. It’s the same one you bought him on your joint trip to Paris a few months ago.

“If that’s what you want,” you whisper, hovering your lips right over his, “then we’ll stop.”

You take a step back and turn to walk towards your dress and heels that sit on the chair by the bed. Before you can even take two steps, Dave’s hand slides through your hair.

He presses his front to your back and pulls your hair, forcing you to look at him. Dave’s other hand reaches up to your neck to tilt your head backward.

His lips land on yours in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue with a taste of possessiveness. Dave squeezes your neck in warning, you assume because of the smile plastered on your face as you kiss him back.

You know he won’t ever end this. He’s in too deep, too infatuated and crazed by you to actually leave.

You grind back on his bulge and elicit a moan from him. Just as quickly as the kiss started, it ends with Dave pushing you face first into the mattress.

“You have no fucking respect for what’s sacred,” he hisses.

Dave yanks your hips back and flips up your nightgown. He lands a harsh slap to your naked asscheek, switching from one to the other, uncaring of your yelps of discomfort.

You gasp for air, whimpering at the swipe of his fingers through your folds.

“I was a good husband before I met you,” Dave says in anger.

“Then go back to your wife,” you snap.

Dave removes his fingers and spanks you again, landing one right between your legs.

“Fucking brat.”

He stays fully clothed, only taking a few seconds to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. You feel him notch the tip of his cock at your entrance and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully inside of you.

“Oh fuck,” you moan, twisting the comforter in your hands.

"Nothing to say?" he laughs, relishing in the way you twist and turn on the bed.

His fingers sink into your hips and he begins to fuck you in hard, punishing thrusts. The sarcastic remarks you had ready, waiting on the tip of your tongue, are now gone–fucked out of your head by Dave.

His cock stretches your sensitive walls, bumps that sweet spot inside of you, but it’s all a little too much. He’s large, not just in length but a man so much stronger than you, that can manhandle and move you in any way he wants.

The anticipation of seeing Dave, having him snap at you in anger–of course it made your pussy slick with need. But you’re so used to him being needy, licking your pussy until you cry or making you dry hump him while he kisses your lips swollen.

There are random moments like these, where he’ll focus on his own pleasure. Missions go wrong, he loses funding for his projects, and he’s left with a sense of failure and rage.

Carol is too soft for his tastes. A perfect, catholic wife who doesn’t see the need for sex outside of procreation.

Then came you, temptation and sin all wrapped up in red silk and stilettos.

You were the first to lead his hands around your neck and moan “tighter, please.” He wore his wedding ring that first night, imprinting the warm metal on your skin, and yet you still left purple bruises and bite marks on his chest, hoping his wife would find them.

“Hurts, baby?” Dave coos, sliding a hand down your arched back.

A stuttered “y–yes” falls from your lips, cheek pressed to the mattress and mouth open in a perfect o.

With each of his thrusts, his heavy balls slap over your wet folds. You pussy swallows his length, tightens and flutters, fights through the discomfort of his size. His groans echo throughout the hotel room and his hands only grip you tighter to him.

“Good,” Dave mutters, “you deserve it.”

“Yes, yes,” you moan, shuddering as he spanks you again.

“Such a fucking slut, yeah? Sleeping with married men,” Dave groans, pistoning his hips faster, “ruining good–shit–good marriages.”

His hand reaches to swipe at your swollen clit in harsh circles and you push back, turning your head to scream into a pillow.

“You think that because–” he groans, shuddering as you tighten around him, “you have such a perfect, little cunt, you can ruin my life?”

You’re hanging on by a thread. His tip kisses your cervix, reaching the end of you while you bounce your ass back onto his hips. Your pussy ripples over his cock, finally reaching that point where it’s unimaginably slick and sticky.

You want to respond. Remind him that yes, your pussy is a perfect little hole for him to fuck and destroy. Instead, you whimper and grip the comforter while a full body shudder courses through you and your belly tightens.

“Dirty fucking whore,” Dave hisses, “you fuck other married men like this?”

You’re so close, with heat flooding your belly and your brain becoming numb. Dave removes his fingers from your clit, and spanks you again in three successive slaps.

“Answer me when I–fuck–ask you a question.”

“No, no, no,” you chant, reaching for his hand and placing it right back. “J–just you, Dave. Only you.”

“That’s right,” he murmurs, swirling your clit with your juices, “this pussy is just for me.”

His movements become sloppy, pounding you harder than before. Dave’s cock fills every centimeter of your cunt and suddenly you're cumming, shuddering on the bed and screaming into the pillow from the force of your orgasm.

His groan echoes through the room and he presses his hips onto yours, pumping you so full of his length that your whole body jostles with each thrust.

“I’m gonna cum in this slut pussy,” he mutters, giving you barely any warning before the flood of warm liquid inside of you. “Remind this cunt,” he moans, too far gone to understand what he’s saying, “who owns her.”

You’re sure at this point you’ll be sore tomorrow, from your pussy and the vice grip he has on your hips.

Dave throbs, slams his cock into you until you’ve milked him dry. He collapses on the bed next to you, sweaty and still fully clothed with only his wet cock now resting on his belly.

His hands reach for your head and pushes. You immediately understand what he wants and with trembling limbs, you move down to his stomach and swallow as much of his cock as you can.

It’s covered in your combined mess, sticky and salty and only for you. His fingers thread through your hair while you suck and lick away the evidence. Your eyes flutter closed and you let him gently fuck your mouth with his now softened cock.

“Pretty whore,” he grunts, trembling from exhaustion, “look at how well she cleans up my big cock.”

He eventually strips out of his clothes and drapes your body over his. The both of you lay there, letting the hotel AC cool your sweaty skin while he drags his fingers down your spine.

“What am I going to do about you?” he asks, watching as you slip into a deep sleep.

#dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x female reader #dave york fanfiction #mean dave york #dave york x you

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voidangxls · 1 month ago

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ˋ°•*⁀➷ saved by kickass…

pairing(s)- Dave lizewski x reader

summary- Tonight was just not your night. First a fight with your dad, then almost robbed but thankfully kickass was there to help you. An identity is revealed in the process, but all is well when the night ends better than you could have ever imagined

category- fluff, angst-ish

warnings- daddy issues, kissing, confessions, swearing? I dont remember, mention of parental issues, almost robbed, violence, not proofread

word count- 3217

masterlist; miscellaneous characters masterlist

---------------------------

You had just gotten into a huge fight with your father. The two of you were walking down the streets of New York, trying to figure out what to eat when suddenly he had started arguing with you. He had said some mean things and told you he didn’t want to be around you so you walked away from him, the both of you going your separate ways on the dark streets while tears streamed down your face.

It was dark, the stars speckled through the sky as you walked through the streets of New York. You had your phone clutched in one hand and your purse hung on your other arms shoulder.

You were heading to your best friend Dave’s house. He lived in the dame neighborhood as you so it was easy to remember the way from where you were. Your best friend always had a way of making you feel better, he knew about your issues at home and all your other issues in general. The two of you shared every and anything all the time, you would by lying if you said you hadn’t been in love with him since you guys were in middle school together.

Sobs wracked through your chest while you walked the way to Dave’s house. The tears blurred your vision as you walked, you could barely see what was in front of you and it seemed like every time you finally blinked away the tears clouding your vision they would come rushing back.

As you were walking a force suddenly pulled you backwards. You stumbled back and let out a shriek of fear. A man had come out of the shadows and tried to pull your purse off of your shoulder, when he did your purse didn’t come off immediately meaning that the force he pulled your purse with also pulled your entire body with it.

The sheer force that the man had pulled your purse with caused you to stumble and fall to the concrete sidewalk with your purse still attatched to your shoulder. Your breath was knocked out of you when you fell, you sat wounded and trying to catch your breath. The same man came back over and gripped the strap of your purse pulling at it, you grab at it and pull it as well so now the both of you were pulling at it.

You stand up while pulling at your purse but when you get up the mystery man takes 2 long strides to you and pulls out a knife. “Hand over the purse” he says lowly.

Now you were sobbing more than you had been before. You let go of your purse, your eyes only locked onto the knife in the mans hand. Sobs echoed throughout the empty street, the man grabbed your purse from your hand and turned around, jogging away from you while you leaned against the wall of a random building behind you as you sobbed.

Your sobs were interrupted when you heard a loud thump to your left. You turn your head in the direction of the sound and see the same man on the ground, your purse lying beside him, and Kickass, New York’s very own super hero in front of the groaning man.

You stay rooted where you were standing, you didn’t know if that man would get up and start another fight so you didn’t dare risk it.

Instead, you look around the ground for your phone. You spot it face down on the sidewalk, you hurriedly pick it up and dial 911 while never taking your eyes off of the mystery man and the superhero.

The man was still on the ground groaning while Kickass stood over him. “Tell y/n you’re sorry” he says

The man ignores his words and gets back up. He swings at Kickass, the superhero quickly dodged the punch and knocked him out.

You had already gave the police your location and hung up the phone. Now you were left on the barely lit street, staring at your savior. The superhero grabs your purse from the ground and walks over to you quickly. Your eyes watch him tentatively as he walks towards you.

Before you could get the words ‘thank you’ out, the superhero is standing in front of you with a hand on your bicep and speaking “are you okay?” he asks worriedly. You could definitely tell he was trying to disguise his voice in some way which was completely understandable, he wanted to keep his identity a secret.

Now, you’ve never had an encounter with the infamous superhero everyone had been talking about but you didn’t expect to hear so much worry in the mans tone.

You nod softly and swallow nervously. “Thank you” you tell him quietly, too shaken up to find your real voice.

“You’re welcome. Now tell me, are you okay?” He asks, his voice carrying the same amount of worry as it did last time. Yes, he was a superhero but he was still a random person whom didn’t know you, you didn’t expect him to show this much worry for someone he didn’t know

“I think so” you whisper, your wide eyes meeting his. You were well aware of his hand still resting on your bicep.

“Wait- were you crying” the superhero stresses, his voice cracking slightly.

“uh-“ but before you got the chance to answer the both of you hear police sirens. Next thing you know he’s putting your purse back on your shoulder and gently pulling you to walk with him in the opposite direction of the police.

The walk was silent for a moment but that gave you a chance to rethink of what was happening. You didn’t know why the superhero was being so nice to you but you were confused. You also thought back to the encounter when Kickass had first showed up, he called you by your name. You hadn’t given the superhero a name, you hadn’t even spoken yet but somehow he knew your name. So thats when you came to the conclusion that Kickass was definitely someone you knew or at least he knew you.

You furrowed your eyebrows and stopped walking. His hand fell from your back and you turned to him with a knowing yet curious expression.

“You know me” you state

When you said that, he immediately tensed. “Wha- no I don’t” He laughs nervously.

The both of you were now stopped on the sidewalk, facing each other. You with a curious expression and him with a tense one, well at least from what you could see under the mask. “You said my name” you state

“no I didn’t” The boy behind the mask whispers tensely, shaking his head in the process

“yes you did” you press on, squinting your eyes at him as you do so

“No I didn’t” He shakes his head again, his voice getting slightly louder but the octave of his voice getting higher as well

You tilt your head as you study him over. You recognized that voice, he was finally letting his true voice show even if by accident and you had definitely heard it somewhere. You stare at him for a moment with squinted eyes and your head tilted.

Dave.

You knew that voice. The person in front of you was none other than your best friend Dave and you were sure of it. There was no way it wasn’t, he sounded exactly like that and his voice raised and cracked when he was nervous. Now the worry made sense, he was so worried because you guys were best friends. This would also explain why he had been usually busy recently. You just couldn’t believe he hadn’t told you or confided in you about this whole new persona.

When you had realized it was Dave behind the mask, your face turned into one of shock. You pushed his chest slightly and looked at the boy in front if you with wide eyes.

“Wha-“ He exclaims but is cut off by you

“You!” You raise your voice, pointing a finger at him as you take a step towards him

His eyes wides and he raises his hands up. He takes a step backwards when you step towards him “Me?” He yells nervously in response. His back hits the wall of a building behind them but you continue to step toward him.

“Dave!” You whisper shout, poking your finger into his chest

His eyes widen even bigger if you thought that was possible. The superhero clears his throat and keeps his hands held up by his head. “I-Im not Dave! Who’s Dave?” He stutters

“I know its you Dave, I could recognize my best friend from anywhere” You hiss at him, poking your finger into his chest once more.

The boy gives up on defending himself and lowers his hands to his sides. “Okay, okay. Just- can we get to your house before we talk about this” Dave grabs your hand from his chest softly and holds it in his.

You stare at him with squinted eyes for a moment before you give in. He drops his hand from yours and looks at you with his usual kind eyes. You sigh and look down at the ground before looking back up at him, you swallow “can we go to yours?” you ask

“Yeah, of course” Dave whispers in response, grabbing your hand softly into his and walking in the direction of his house, you right next to him. The walk to his house was silent, the only sound being the things around you and the sound of your footsteps.

Once the two of you were at his house and inside of his bedroom, he sits you on the bed and sits next to you. He had already changed out of his superhero attire and he lended you some of his clothes since you would be staying the night, not wanting to go home to your dad just yet.

“Y/N, Are you okay?” He asks gently

“you already asked me that” You respond, looking down at your hands in your lap

“but I don’t believe you” He responds, leaning forward so he could see your face.

You shrug and furrow your brows. “I mean, Im not completely okay at the moment” you admit softly, not daring to look up and look him in his eyes.

“I know, I could tell” Dave responds just as softly. “but something was bothering you before that douche bag got to you. He didn’t hurt you did he?” Dave speaks, his tone starting off soft and progressively getting stronger and worried

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” You shake your head, sure at the moment you physically hurt a bit but now you weren’t in any pain at all.

“Are you sure?” He worries again

“Yeah, I’m sure” You say, nodding your head and wringing you hands in your lap

“So, What else happened that you’re not telling me?” Dave asks gently, his hand gently landing on her arm

“I just got into a fight with my dad again” You dismiss, shaking your head softly

“so you walked all by yourself in the dark? Why not just walk across the street to my house?” He asks, worry lacing his tone but also confusion. If you got into a fight with your dad or if anything else was wrong with you, you would usually just walk across the street to his house and seek comfort. The same thing with him, if he needed you he would come over to your house and sneak through your window.

You finally look up, your eyes meeting his. “We were on our way to grab something to eat and he started yelling at me about how I was a terrible daughter. He told me to get away from him which I wanted to anyways and then while I was trying to walk to your house that whole thing happened” You tell him honestly

“you were on your way here?” He asks, his brows dipping down while his hand stays on your arm

“yeah” you whisper with a nod

“good, you can always come here” Dave nods with a thoughtful expression

You nod in response, licking your lips slightly and looking back down to your lap. You were always very thankful for your friendship with Dave, he had helped you through so much. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship but you couldn’t help but want more.

“So, why didn’t you tell me you were Kickass?” You ask, looking back up at him with a raised brow. Your expression wasn’t angry but more accusing.

“I didn’t want you to become a target. I needed to keep you safe” your best friend answers truthfully

You nod “I understand, you’re forgiven” You respond

Dave shoots up from the bed and now looks down at you with a shocked expression. “Wait- Really?” he asks you confused

You look up at him and laugh slightly “Yeah. I mean you were trying to keep me safe” you shrug, looking up at him with a smile “you’re forgiven, plus I could never stay mad at you” you admit

He smiles one of his beautiful wide smiles at you and you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies flutter in your stomach. You thought Dave had one of the most beautiful smiles you’d ever seen.

“Thats great to hear, Im never able to stay mad at you either” He responds, slightly teasingly

“But seriously, Are you okay? and not just with the whole almost robbed thing, I mean with your dad.” He walks forward so that now he was right in front of you, looking down at you with a soft expression.

As soon as he finished his words sobs broke through your chest and tears stream down your eyes. You bring your hands up to your face and cover it as you sob into your hands.

Dave immediately sits back down next to you and envelopes you into a hug. Your hands leave your face and wrap around his middle, your head tucks into his chest. Dave’s arms wrap around your body tightly, his head sitting softly on top of yours while his hands soothingly rub against your back. “I got you” Dave whispers into your ear.

You continued to cry into his chest for a few minutes. Once your sobs settled down and you were left in only sniffles, Dave kept you in his chest. His hands still soothingly rubbed your back “He doesn’t deserve you, your an amazing daughter, an amazing friend, an amazing person. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about” Dave whispers to you, keeping you clutched into his chest while you clutched his shirt in your hands.

You lift your head from his chest and look up at him. Feeling your head move beneath his chin he looks down at you with a gentle smile that he hoped was comforting.

The both of you stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. You lifted your head and captured his lips with yours. Dave didn’t kiss back immediately and you then realized what you had just done. You shoot up from the bed and your position in his chest. “oh my god” you whisper, pushing your head into tour heads and pacing around his room anxiously. “Im so sorry, I don’t know why I did that” you stress.

Of course you knew why you did that, you were completely and hopelessly in love with Dave, your best friend. But he didn’t have to know that and you didn’t want him to know that. You swore to yourself that you wouldn’t screw up your amazing friendship because of your feelings yet you just did and it was stressing you the fuck out.

Dave gets up from his position on the bed as well and looks over at you with furrowed eyebrows and a dejected decision. “You didn’t?” he asks, his voice cracking softly

You finally remove your head from your hands and turn towards him with a worried expression on your face and an embarrassed blush on your cheeks.

“Why did you kiss me?” Dave asks. What confused you though was that his voice held an undertone of sadness to it.

When your eyes meet his, the both of you guys have wide eyes. “what?” you ask with a whisper. You knew very well what he said but you didn’t want to truthfully answer so you stalled for as long as you could at this moment.

“Im in love with you” Dave says, tired of beating around the bush. He was certain he wouldn’t let the possibility that you didn’t reciprocate his feelings get in the way of your friendship, but he also didn’t know why you would kiss him if you didn’t feel the same so he took the chance.

Your body freezes and your eyes widen even more slightly. Your jaw drops slightly and you look at him in shock. “what?” you whisper

Dave takes a couple steps towards you so he was now in front of you “Im in love with you, and I’m sorry if this ruins our friendship but never mind it wont because I wont let it. I do love you so much, more than I ever thought I could love someone and if you don’t feel the same i am so sorry but you kissed me and-“

he rambles but is cut off when your lips firmly meet his for the second time that night. One hand curls around to his hair while the other rests on his chest.

Dave responds immediately, his lips urgently moving against yours. One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you into him even more while the other hand gently holds the side of your face.

After a moment when the two of you pull apart, your foreheads lean against each other and you catch your breaths from the best kisses of your life. “I love you” you whisper to him, your eyes opening and meeting his wide sparkling ones

“Really?” Dave whispers with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face.

“duh” you laugh lightly, your noses bumping against each other as your hand clutches tighter into his hair.

“Im the luckiest guy in the entire world” Dave whispers in disbelief, shaking his head against yours

At the boys words you feel bashfulness wash through you. “stop it” you chuckle softly, looking down at the ground instead of the boys soft eyes.

His hand on your cheeks lifts your head back up to meet his eyes “can I be your boyfriend?” He asks, emotion flooding his tone

“Yeah” you whisper with a nod, biting your lip to try and conceal your smile

“I love you” Dave whispers happily

“Ive loved you for like ever” You whisper just as happy

“That makes the two of us because I cant remember a time where I didn’t love you” Dave responds. You felt your heart melt in the absolute best way in that moment.

Dave smiles even bigger than he had before which you thought was impossible and pulls you back into a kiss, the both of your pouring every ounce of emotion and feelings into the kiss.

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popcornforone · 4 months ago

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Little Red Bows

A Dave York Fan Fic

Merry Christmas everyone

Time for some festivities from our favourite stabby murder daddy, David Christopher York. Oooh & it’s rather delicious. Sorry shouldn’t hype it up but I’ve enjoyed writing & editing this one. Daves still number 1 for me.

Synopsis:- Dave admires your special wrapping skills so much so that he can’t wait to open his own Christmas gift.

Word Count:-3100

Warnings:- DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! DAVE YORK COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING! Sex, lost of sex, including oral & anal, good play, innuendo, alcohol, swearing, chocking, teasing. Basically if you’ve read any of my Dave fics before you know what’s coming. Also the use of the word Daddy (I know it’s a trigger for some of you). The reader is Daves wife & the kids mum but you are not Carol (unless you want to be)

Thank yous lol so much for reading. Have an amazing festive period.

“Night night molly” he said as he kissed her head. Slowly leaving her bedroom, making sure the night light is glowing purple stars for her. He Silently closes the door. Not even a click. Being an assassin he’s good at that. Can get in & out without a sound. She’s fast asleep not even knowing she’s nodded off. Alice fell asleep much earlier.

Dave makes his way back down stairs & into the kitchen getting some ice from the freezer for his whiskey. As the top come off the bottle her hears you humming. You’re sat on the floor of the little snug area just down from the kitchen, headphones in, crafting away. Dave looks up to see you looking all cute eating a chocolate oranage wrapping up gifts. He gets another glass & pours you a whisky too before he slowly comes to join you. Even with your headphones on you can work out where he’s coming from. You take out the left ear pod & smirk.

“Both asleep?”

“Snug as a bug baby” he says as he leans down & hands you your glass. He goes to move but you grab his shirt. “Forget something did i?” He asks.

“You know it” your eyes widen & soon your lips meet deeply. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve kissed Dave it still feels so good. He’s always desperate for your touch & you are just desperate to be seen by him. He slips his tongue in for a few hungry seconds before pulling back & sighing. He sits on the sofa behind you putting his drink on the table & looks at the scene in front of him.

“How many more gifts to go�� he says. In front of you are gift tags, stars, snowflakes, tape ribbons, bows, brown paper, wrapping paper, glitter paper, & lots of different colour pens.

“Tonight & tomorrow morning & we should be done except for whatever you’ve got me Dave but I can’t exactly wrap that up” you say. He rubs your shoulders.

“You do such a good job baby”

“I mean you said I didn’t have to go all out but it’s nice, I get some me time, I get to craft & create & it’s fun”

“Yes & then they get the gift & take off all the hard work you have done”

“You gonna have to open your gifts so slowly now on Christmas Day Dave” you point a gel pen at him as you write the next label.

“True but just look at this…” he hold up a ribbon you’ve curled with tape & attached to a bow. “… I mean yes I have a specific set of skills but this is beautiful.” You laugh “no seriously, these little bows, those ribbon curls, the personalised gift tags, it’s astonishing”

“It’s really not that hard Dave” you smile but are also secretly so proud. It takes a lot to impress Dave & he’s heaping praise on you. Or maybe he just wants his dick sucked. Or both. Probably both. “I could teach you” his hands roam over your shoulders. Yea he wants his dick sucked.

“Really,” he rests his head on your shoulder. “Show me baby.” He kisses your neck & you let out a tiny moan & sigh. You get out the ribbon & the scissors & show him how to curl it. Not that he’s looking at it & not that you care. He’s looking at the at the way your lips move as you speak, how your eyes light up with passion, how that mole on your chin is the most perfect beauty mark that people would pay thousands for & yet you’ve had it since birth.

“& then you cut their throat” you say bluntly. Dave shake his head in shock.

“WHAT!?” You giggle.

“I knew you weren’t listening Dave”

“Did you now” he grabs the scissors out of your hand. “You know I could kill you in 13 different ways with these scissors”

“But you’d never be able to make a pretty bow” you smirk as he pulls you into his lap. He’s hard, he’s very hard. You gulp down a few swigs of your whisky. You place your glass next to his as his hands roam your body.

“I think I’d have other pressing issues instead of bows & glitter” he says. His hands on the outside of your trousers rubbing the material so that it rubs against your clit.

“Dave stop” you moan but enjoying every second.”or at least promise you’ll help me tidy up a little for in the morning after this.”your own hand goes on auto pilot undoing his belt after you turned to face him. The zipper sound louder than the music in your remaining ear pod.

“You got it baby” he sits back on the sofa & man scapes. he’s got thick thighs but an even thicker dick that he just flops out of his boxers as you tie your hair up & gulp some of his whiskey down.”hey that’s…” but your lips meet his to shut him up. Passionate doesn’t cover the ferocity of the kiss.

“Yours baby, just like me Dave, I’m all yours” you trails your hands down his body eventually get to his penis. Leaking precum, erect & ready for pleasure. “Hello big boy” you moan before licking across the top of it, before looking up at Dave & spitting on his shaft. He loves it when you do that. He always tense up when you do it.

“So good to me sweetheart” his hand runs around a your face & he smirk & nods. He watches down as you engulf him. Bobbing. Taking him into your mouth, slowly. Gagging for his enjoyment. “That’s my girl” he thrusts into you & he grabs where you’ve tied your hair up. “You look all sweet but damn you love getting a facial” he keeps your head in place watching your eyes stream as he fucks your mouth. “God I love it when you gag, so fucking hot” he whines. You can see when you look into his eyes, he loves eye contact, he’s intense at everything, that he’s already approaching his peak. His eyes so dilated. The hand not holding your head gripping to the arm of the sofa for dear life. “Fuck sweetheart, fuck fuck fuck I… oooh fuck” hot ropes of cum spill down your throat & your mouth. He quickly lets go of your head & pulls his cock back. Splatters land on your face.”oooh fuck baby” he finishes to make sure your face glistens. He then looks at you, hands in your lap looking up at him pleadingly to mop up your face. He’s still breathless as he looks at you, trying to calm down.

“Dave”

“Hmmm” he then smile coming back to reality. “Kiss first then clean up & then I’ll look after you”

Christmas Eve has now rolled around. You spent the day with the girls baking cakes, cookies & getting some prep done for tomorrow’s Christmas dinner. Dave went & delivered a few gifts & apparently went to get your Christmas present, but you’ve worked it out already. He’s good at secrets on a life & death situation but not when it comes to the surprise 10 day trip to Jamaica he has for you. Also you notice he asked for your passport & a few other travel items. You just don’t know when he’s booked it for.

After Dinner you Dave & the girls sit on the sofa & watch the muppet Christmas Carol as a family, the girls have hot chocolate & marshmallows in them & a big bowl of popcorn. You have an espresso martini & Dave as always has a whiskey. You sit there & laugh & cry & sing along to the film. This is all you really want for Christmas. Gifts & food & excess is nice but just to have a little time where the 4 of you can just be you. For a brief moment in time your just the Yorks. No worrying about if Dave will walk back through the door after a mission, or if you or the girls will be used as bait. It’s just you sitting here doing what all other normal families do this evening. Once the muppets are done you give the girls each their stockings to hang on the fire place. You would usually light the fire but tonight you didn’t.

“We don’t want it to be too hot for Santa when he comes down it do we” you say to the girls.

“Oooh no” says Alice. “His beard might melt off” you & Dave both laugh.

“So when you wake up in the morning girls your stockings will be filled, with all of little Santa gift.” He says as he ties them up. “Now what do you want to leave out for Santa to drink.”

“Milk” says Molly. Dave sighs.

“But everyone will give Santa milk, maybe he’d like something else”

“Chocolate milk” you laugh at that reply Dave trying not to roll his eyes.

“It’s still milk though, why don’t we leave Santa some alcohol” he says “give him a needed boost cos all the milk he will have drank will make him sleepy”

“That’s not what the books say” says Molly. Dave has tried so hard to convince them but neither girls are buying into it.

“I tell you what girls” you say. “Why don’t we leave an empty glass for Santa with a bottle of whiskey next to it & a carton of milk when me & daddy go to bed” Dave raises his eyebrow, not at your suggestion but at the word daddy. He likes it when you moan it just before you cum. “& he can pick what he wants to drink. That way next year you will know what he likes so you can leave the right one out”

“But what if he wants both” even you sigh.

“Well he can have both” you say & the girls run off to the kitchen to get the milk & cookies & carrots they sorted out earlier. You look at Dave as he puts the whiskey down & an empty glass. “I tried baby”

“That’s not what you did” he pauses then wink “daddy appreciates it”

With the girls supposedly asleep you & Dave do some sorting out for tomorrow. The table is laid, the gifts are under the tree & everything is prepped to make Christmas lunch easy. All that’s left to do is for Dave to do his Santa bit & fill up the stocking.

“I’ll go get ready for bed Dave” you say before he heads off to the shed to get the Santa gifts. Easier place for you to both hide all the gifts. The girls will never think in there. As Dave heads to get them you quickly head into the lounge to hide something for him to enjoy.

Dave loves doing this. He’s a serious professional man until it comes to a little bit of festive fun. Leaving some fake shoe marks in the hall way. Eating a cookie. Snapping off parts of the carrots, including dropping an end next to the fire place. He then pours himself a shot of whiskey & downs it, but as he goes to put the drink back down he notices something that the girls didn’t put down. A little red bow. One you had made. He lifts it up with a smile & sees there’s a post it underneath. Your beautiful hand writing make him smile.

Come unwrap your present daddy!

He has never triple checked the house is locked so quickly in his life, he almost forgot to turn the kitchen light off. He’s also trying to be quiet so the girls don’t wake up & the Christmas magic is lost. But it’s not long before he is opening the bedroom door. His jaw hitting the floor instantly.

You are lying face down. Hair in a braid going over your left shoulder. Wearing nothing. A sparkling red bow & some mistletoe stuck on top of your bum. There’s a gift tag tied to your foot. Dave drops to his knees. His mouth instantly sucking the toes on the foot with the gift tag. You moan & then you hear him breathily read out loud, once he has stopped sucking.

“Your gift needs a good stuffing Daddy” he says in his bedroom voice. “Oooh sweetheart fuck sweetheart” you’ve not turned your head but you can hear the clothes hit the floor. “Gonna fuck you so hard you will struggle to stand up to cook Christmas dinner” he snarls.

“Is that a promise Dave” you then hiss as he spanks you hard & your bum lifts up. You then moan as his lips connect. Pulling your cheeks apart & lapping always at both your holes. “Fuck Dave” you can feeling your inner pleasure building up already. His hand moves the bow & mistletoe off you & you then feel his penis drag through the mess he has just made. Your arsehole puckering for him.

“I get the best for Christmas” he says before thrusting his penis into your arse. All the way. Deep enough that his balls bounce against you. “Fuck” he growls & you bury your head into the bed as you moan. “So fucking tight. all your holes”

“They are all yours tonight Dave”

“Seriously?” He’d paused his next thrust upon hearing that. His hands gripping your flesh as you are now on all fours pushing back into him.

“They always are but as a Christmas treat you can go all night for as long as you want”

“You little cum slut” he says & smacks your arse again. You rock back & forth in time. You will have marks on your torso tomorrow from him gripping so hard. He’s thrusting away like he will never have sex again or like he has just gotten out of a mission that could have meant his end & he’s happy to be home to you. “Taking me so well” you put a hand on your clit but Dave smacks your arse hard.

“Fuck”

“No clit touching until I can see it. Want to see how over stimulated you get” he says.

“Then flip me over”

Dave doesn’t need an excuse. He quickly withdraws & turns you so your face up & he laughs.

“The fuck”

You have put a little bow over each nipple & one just above your sex. You giggle impishly back as you suck on a small strawberry candy cane you have.

“Liking your gift so far daddy”

“You’re driving me insane.” The bows are pulled off your skin & he plunges his sopping penis deep inside your moist cunt. Your moaning in seconds, especially when he grips you around the neck. “You’re a naughty girl” he moans. Sloppy thrusting noises filling the room when the two of you aren’t experiencing pleasure.”naughty & nice, nice sopping pussy, naughty girl for touching her clit”

“Fuck Dave” you groan.he squeezing your neck more. His eyes alight with desire & list. You quiver taking him all. Clamping constantly around him. He’s big but tonight he feels bigger.

“gonna fill you up sweetheart, gonna lap up all our cum.” He says before he takes the hand that was around your neck. You gasp for air gives him enough time to take the candy cane you were sucking & for him to suck it as well. Then he strokes the sticky sweet over your clit, rubbing it furiously. Your own eyes close. Pleasure taking over.

“Yes Dave yes yes yes, fuck”

“Like that sweetheart” he says before he slips the Candy cane into your mouth again. You make sloppy noises on purpose to get him to thrust faster. It’s rapid his pace, neither of you are going to last much longer. Dave is giving you his best.”like being so needy for daddy”

“Yes daddy, fuck yes yes yesss”

“CUM FOR DADDY!” He says loud enough that it could wake up the girls. Neither of you care.

“Fuckkkkkk” you spiral down your first orgasm of the night. Everything contracting. Pleasure beyond compare. A warm & wet sensation that’s added to with a snarl of your name as Daves seed spill inside your cunt.

“Fuck” he says with a jolt. His eyes rolling in the back of his head. His body dripping in sweat. His pecks flexing from the spasms of his release. He’s still griping you tight. Panting loudly. You eventually open your eyes to look at your glorious husband, bathed in your own sweaty sticky mess.

“Still just as fucking fabulous” you say as you sit up once he’s pulled his cock out of you & sit next to him, caressing his face before your tongues do their usual make out dance after sex. His saltiness after sex always tastes good & arouses you further.

“I ain’t done yet sweetheart” you then gasp as the hand that what caressing your breasts finds your sex, the thumb on your clit, two fingers inside you. “I need to clean you up first” . His head is between your thighs in seconds as you hold it in place rubbing it for ever more friction as he eats you out.

“Oooh fuck Daddy, Dave yes”

You sit in the lounge as the girls open their stockings on Christmas morning. Dave rubbing your shoulders as you watch the girls open Santas gifts. You both desperately need a shower, certain you both smell of sex.

“Dad” Molly ask “what time did Santa get here last night”

“Well it’s after everyone’s asleep including me & mummy why”

“Well” Molly starts “I head something that sounded like it was hitting my wall at 3am, I went down stairs & saw the gifts where there already, but couldn’t see a raindeer outside”

You blush straight away. Molly had heard you & Dave fucking last night. Dave realised this & then looks at you & puts his hand on you knee.

“Could have been, he’s magic so it could have been his quick get away” Molly seems to bye this. Alice hasn’t been listening she’s too busy trying to solve her rubix cube already. Dave move his hand up to your thigh. “Turns out we did bring the Ho ho ho” he says quietly with a wink & a smirk, before kissing you deeply.

“Dad Mum stop” says Alice.

“Sorry darling” you say. “But Christmas brings out the magic in all of us” you say looking directly at Dave. “Christmas after all is a time for giving & receiving”

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wannab-urs · 1 year ago

Text

Bared Teeth

Pairing: Dave York x f!Reader

Summary: Biting the hand that feeds you OR Dave doesn’t know how to accept domesticity and care.

Warnings: Softness and affection, stark descriptions of domesticity, food, brief reference to past injuries, arguments, me fucking with canon, nonsexual slapping, weird smut. WC: 2.1k

A/N: Thank you endlessly to @atinylittlepain, @pr0ximamidnight, @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin, and @beskarandblasters for reading this, for hyping me up, and for generally being amazing human beings. This is the first thing I’ve written in like two months and I’m decently proud of it. Plus, I missed these two a lot. They’re my favorites (don’t tell AGOY!Dieter, he’ll cry).

Dave York Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

His back is pressed against your front, your arm wrapped around his torso, leg between his legs. He holds your hand against his chest, pressed over his heart. You press a kiss to the back of his neck, just under where his too long hair curls against it. You feel him wake up, his body shifting against yours. He presses a kiss to your knuckles before extricating himself from your tangled limbs.

He goes to the bathroom, takes a piss, brushes his teeth. You watch him through the open door. He goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on. As he waits for the water to boil he rummages in the cabinet for a tea bag and the jar of honey. He makes your tea and sets it on the table. You get out of bed, take the tea off the table, and take a sip through a smile. He makes it just the way you like it.

You slot two pieces of bread in the toaster, crack eggs into a pan and scramble them, dish everything up onto two plates. You eat in comfortable silence, sip your perfect tea, watch Dave shovel eggs into his mouth.

He clears the table, hand washes the plates while you gather your clothes for a shower. You go to the bathroom, strip your clothes off and toss them in the hamper, turn on the water in your shower. He slips in behind you just as you get your hair wet. His ribs are no longer bruised, but some of his movements are still halting. You trace a finger over his scar and he backs away from the tender touch.

You squirt shampoo into your hand and reach for him, burying your hands in his thick hair. You massage the shampoo into his scalp, work it through his hair just starting to curl at the ends. You like it long, like having something to grasp. You tug hard at the back of his head, just to keep him from getting skittish.

He shies away from soft touches, too used to hard ones. He seems to lean into your hands anyway. You run your fingers through his hair as the soap washes out and down the drain, press your lips into the hollow of his throat, let him wash your body with a softness he doesn’t himself deserve.

You have to go to the grocery store. Dave has to stay hidden in your apartment, away from anyone who might be looking for him. He isn’t comfortable sitting still since his body has mostly healed. He strips your bed and carries everything down to the laundry. Back in your apartment, he puts your clean clothes away. He gets furniture polish and an old rag and dusts your dresser, your nightstands, your kitchen table. He puts away the now dry dishes from this morning. He goes back downstairs and switches your bedding over to the dryer. He sweeps and mops your floor, scrubs the toilet, wipes down all the counters, scrubs the grout in your shower. He retrieves your bedding and makes the bed army style.

He has never, even with Carol, done anything so domestic as clean an entire apartment for someone. He feels awkward sitting in your clean apartment, waiting for you to come home with groceries he will help you put away, help you turn into meals. He doesn’t know if he can do this anymore.

You carry the bags into the kitchen and set them down on the table. You put away all the cold stuff while Dave stands stiffly behind you in the archway. You hand him a bag and he asks you what’s in it. He’s doing your chores and you’re buying him things at the grocery store and it’s all a little bit too much.

“What is this?”

“Well I know you prefer coffee to tea and all I had was that shitty instant coffee.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t buy things for me.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t.”

His whole body is taut with tension, a coiled spring that will either snap or lash out under this much pressure. You snatch the bag from him and pull out the body wash and shampoo you bought him, carrying them to the bathroom and setting them next to yours.

“What is that?”

“I thought you might want to stop smelling like flowers? I got you sandalwood. I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. Why are you doing this? Why are you buying me shit? You don’t need to buy me shit. It’s not like I live here.”

“Then what is it we’re doing Dave? You sleep in my bed and you eat my food and you’re doing fucking chores. Your toothbrush is in my goddamn bathroom for fuck’s sake. What exactly are we doing here?”

“I don’t know, okay! I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I’m not staying. This isn’t that.”

He grabs his still unpacked duffel bag, pulls his shoes on, and leaves, slamming the door behind him. You throw it open and chase him into the hall.

“David.”

He turns and pushes you back through the threshold of your apartment. He stalks off down the hallway and you watch him go.

The reason he’s been holed up in your apartment is not because he wants to play house, not because he even wants you necessarily. The entire reason, the only reason, he’s stashed himself in your apartment is because no one knows about you. It’s too dangerous for him to go anywhere, the risk of being seen too great. He killed Mac, meaning Mac knew who and what he was. There would be others.

Before he came back to you broken, nearly dead really, it had been an abstract concept that he could get seriously hurt. That he could die. Now, though, you’ve seen him nearly dead and you can’t bear the thought of him being gone.

You stand in your doorway for a long time, willing him to come back to you. Finally, you close the door and slip into your bed. You hardly leave it for days, needing to have eyes on the door he’d eventually walk through. He has to come back, he will come back.

He pounds on the door. You open the door a crack and he shoves it open. You stumble backwards with the force of it and he snatches your arm and kicks the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he growls.

“What’s wrong with me?” Your voice high pitched and breaking on the last syllable. You yank your arm back from him and shove him in the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Dave?” You shove him again, and his back hits the wall. “You fucking left! You were gone for days.” You wrap your hands into his shirt, pulling him toward you and shoving him away over and over. “I didn’t know where the fuck you were. Do you not fucking get it? Do you not understand how it feels for me when you walk out that door? I never know if you’re coming back. If I’ll ever get to see you again. You can’t just fucking leave like that.”

“Why the fuck not?” Dave shoves you away from him and you hit the ground. You look up at him, tears pooling in your waterline. Chest heaving, hackles raised, eye wide and locked with yours – he’s like a prey animal about to meet its death. He’s terrified.

“Because I love you.” He recoils at that.

“No you don’t,” he whispers before stalking further into your apartment, away from you. You scramble to your feet and chase him into the kitchen.

“Yes I fucking do, David. Maybe you aren’t capable of love. Maybe you have too much blood on your hands or you’re too fucked up inside and full of shame too feel anything else. Maybe you’re a disgusting, dirty, defiled person who doesn’t deserve to love or be loved.” You cage him against the counter, one hand on either side of him, body trembling with rage. “You were always going to lose everything because you never deserved to have it in the first place,” you spit at him.

He slaps you then, hard, a stinging hot pain blossoming across your cheek. You slap him back, just as hard, watch his head snap to the side with it. You grab his cheeks in your hands.

“But I’m a terrible person too, David. I must be. Because I love you so much, it’s like I’m caving in on myself. I feel this fucking rot in my chest, this dark thing that is slowly consuming me and it’s you. I love you and it’s fucking killing me because you won’t ever let me have you – not really. You won’t ever stay.”

He hangs his head and it looks like shame, his shoulders slumped like your love is a weight he can barely carry. You snag the curls at the back of his head in your hand and drag his face up to look at you.

“When you aren’t here, all I can think about is losing you. When you aren’t here, my whole body trembles and my chest aches. I can’t work or eat or sleep. Do you understand me? I am so afraid of losing you..” He squeezes his eye shut, face scrunching up in something like pain.

“No,” he whispers.

“The only thing that could destroy me is never touching you again, do you understand me?” He shakes his head. You kiss him then, soft at first but quickly devolving into more teeth than tongue. He bites your lip and you jerk his head back so far he starts sinking to the floor with it. You follow him down, straddle him as he sinks against your kitchen cabinets.

He pulls you as snugly against him as you can get, savoring the feeling of your body pressed against him. He slides his hands under your shirt and lifts it off of you before shoving you off of him. You land sprawled out on your kitchen floor. He dives forward and rips your shorts and underwear off of you in one go. You sit up and tug his pants down, his hard cock springing out and bobbing against his stomach.

You want to tear him apart, but you need him inside you. You grab his shirt and pull him down on top of you, slamming your mouths together again. He thrusts his hips against your core, the head of his cock catching your clit.

You growl and reach between your bodies, guiding him inside you. You hook a leg around his hips and pull him close to you, bury him inside yourself. He sets a brutal pace, your back sliding on the floor. You brace a hand on the cabinets and drive your hips up to meet his. He fucks you fast and hard and it hurts. He’s tearing you open and making room for himself inside you. You drag his shirt off, needing to feel his skin. He doesn’t even slow down. Your nails sink into his shoulders. You feel the powerful muscles shifting beneath his skin.

He grabs your right leg and throws it over his shoulder, leaning forward enough that you feel the stretch as he pounds into you. It almost hurts, the way your muscles pull, and you dig your nails in deeper. You can feel his skin gathering under your fingernails. You pull your leg back and kick him in the chest. He sprawls on the floor much like you had earlier. You dive for him, crawling onto his lap and settling him deep inside you again.

You lean forward until your face is over his. He plants his feet on the floor and fucks you just as hard and fast as before. You grab his jaw, forcing his mouth open, and spit onto his tongue.

“Mine,” you snarl. You let go of his jaw and he swallows.

Whatever reservations he had before are gone, at least for the moment. As you clench around him again and again, your eyes rolling back into your head and your body going limp on top of him, he realizes he is completely and utterly yours.

He marks you as such, coming deep inside you, fucking you until his cock goes soft. In the aftermath, you lay with your head on his chest. He traces soft lines up and down your spine, his lips pressed against your hair. .

“Will you stay?”

“For now.”

#Dave York #Dave York fics #Dave York fanfiction #Dave York x reader #Dave York x f!reader #Dave York x you #Equalizer 2 fanfiction #pedrostories

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sweetenerobert · 1 year ago

Text

“mommy, where’s santa?”

3.1k / modern!dave york x dad!male reader

summary: molly questions where santa is and carol can’t seem to give a clear answer as she wonders where her husband ran off to

warnings: strong language, cheating (established secret relationship), dirty talk, unprotected p in a, dave can’t keep his hands away from you, choking, spanking, sex in a closet, slight bondage, pet names (baby, angel) marking kink, creampie, no use of m/n or y/n, let me know if I missed anything! (not proofread)

➴ navigation page/masterlist in bio

➴ notifications blog in bio, follow and turn on notifications

a/n: i could’ve wrote something with joel, but i chose dave because im a ✨indecisive mess✨ also, MERRY CHRISTMAS

➴ dividers by @saradika

Kids were running around, laughing, eating, and talking about what they wanted for Christmas with their friends while drinking hot chocolate. Christmas music was playing throughout the speakers of the venue where the event was set.

The smell of peppermint and cinnamon flew through the air, bringing the mood for Christmas to an all-time high.

But there was one big problem. Santa was nowhere to be found. Kids were asking their parents left and right, and parents were getting annoyed at Carol, knowing that Dave was supposed to dress up as Santa. The sudden situation made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Goosebumps riddled her body as she saw Molly walk up to ask her an all-too-familiar question everyone else was asking her. “Mommy, where’s Santa?”

Carol gets down to her daughter's level. “Santa’s just running a little late.”

Molly's eyes trail down to her hands as she plays with her fingertips; the little girl starts balancing her toes through her Mary Jane Doc Martens. "But, you said Santa's never late; that's how he makes it to so many houses on time," Molly spoke, hiding the sadness in her voice.

Carol huffs a smile, noticing how smart her daughter and strokes her daughter's face, pushing a stranded piece of hair behind her ear in her best attempts to calm her daughter. "There's always a first time for everything, but baby, I promise Santa will be here for you — for everyone, and he'll get whatever you ask him."

"He will?" Molly smiled, glancing back at her mom.

Carol smiled and nodded her head. "Yes, he will."" Molly quickly wrapped her arms around her mom's neck while Carol wrapped her arms around Molly's small frame. As Carol backed up from the embrace, she saw a smile from her daughter that could light up an entire room. “Now, did you get a candy cane for Alice?”

“No, not yet,” Molly smiled.

“Well,” Carol smiled. “Let’s get your sister one, and we’ll wait for Santa together. Sound fun?”

Molly didn't answer. She just nodded and giggled at her mother. As Carol stood up, Molly started to run off to the table that lay candy canes, her smile beaming ear to ear. Carol hits Dave’s contact, trying to find where her husband is. “C’mon, Dave. Pick up the phone,” She grumbles, bringing the phone to her ear.

Your back clashes against a rickety shelf, making objects fall next to the two passionate, — hungry people’s lips melting together. Dave’s leathered-covered hands were melted on your waist, while yours were in his hair, passing your nails through his locks like sand. Hearing a phone vibrate in the distance, choosing to ignore it.

Dave had discarded the itchy fake beard on the closet floor to get better access to your lips, and the red jacket’s buttons hadn't been closed — practically ripped open by you.

Dave’s lips began attacking your jaw, his lips biting the skin on your neck. You hiss a moan as Dave sucks your neck like a vampire. His hands travel down to palm your ass, a tight grip makes you yelp softly, a sly chuckle escaping Dave's lips.

“Fuck, I can tell Santa is getting antsy.”

“You don't know how bad I’ve been waiting to do this, to mark your skin, to taste you,” Dave growls into your skin, sending goosebumps all over your neck.

Dave’s mouth was hot on your neck, his lips sucking and biting against your soft skin, making you grip his short hair in retaliation. Your pants bounce all over the small area in the closet.

Taking your hands off Dave’s cranium, you slip them underneath his red jacket. You were pushing your hands up in an attempt to get the coat off. Dave, in one motion — mouth still latched onto your neck, takes the jacket and throws it on the ground, revealing the grey tank top underneath.

“Fuck, I can’t get enough of you, you taste like fuckin’ heaven.”

Your nails latch onto Dave’s shoulder as he forcefully places his lips onto yours. Dave brings his hands up from your ass to your neck, lightly choking you. As the kissing was passionate, Dave’s grip under your neck was intoxicating; you wanted more of him.

“Fuck Dave, I want you so fucking bad,” You breathed.

“So fucking needy, I don't want to put you on the naughty list, right?”

“I’m already at the fucking top, written in red,” You state, trailing your hand from Dave’s shoulder to his cock. Dave hisses his teeth at your sudden action.

“Naughty boy, I should teach you a lesson on how to be good,” Dave retorted.

“What do you have in mind?” You smirked.

Dave takes his mouth off yours and brings himself close to your ear. “Turn the hell around and wait for me.” Dave lets go of the grip around your throat; you take a deep breath, trying to get oxygen back in your body.

You turn around, placing your hands on a shelf near your head. You heard shuffling come from behind, but you didn’t turn around, you just waited — almost eagerly for what Dave was going to do.

Licking your teeth, you were met by Dave’s body colliding against yours, feeling his length against your ass. “You feel what you’re doing to me, baby. I can't get enough of you.”

Dave takes your hands off the shelf you were grasping and places them behind you. Dave had taken the belt of the Santa jacket and wrapped the leather belt around your hands, the large strap keeping your hands tied behind your back.

Dave slips his hands onto your pants, unbuttons your jeans, and slips your underwear and jeans down to your ankles. You feel Dave press himself through the soft material feeling his covered length against your ass.

“I swear, you have the best ass,” Dave starts, smacking his hand against your ass. You hiss in pleasure. “In the whole fuckin’ world.” You hear a grunt escape Dave’s lips, suggesting that he’s in a rush to take off the pants he was forced to wear.

You could feel his cock press up against your ass, but you felt it back up from you. You hear Dave spit, and you don't think anything from it until you feel the tip of Dave’s cock slowly slide in. You suck in a deep breath.

"Damn it, I can never get enough of you," Dave growled.

You could feel Dave's cock stretch you out, slowly, painfully enjoying every inch inside you. Dave’s hips had a mind of their own as his thrust started slow, but his thighs clapped against your ass.

Dave's slow thrusts became more and more intense, but you loved every second of it. With each clap, your moans kept escaping your lips, and Dave’s cock slipped out of you as you moved forward.

“Are you trying to run, baby?”

“Too intense, sorry, Davie,” You breathed.

A hard smack against your ass makes you yelp in pain as you feel a harsh tug on your wrist. Your arms being attached to you — your back collided with Dave’s firm chest.

“You’re going to take every inch of my dick, I’m going to mark my handprint on that sweet ass of yours, and I need you to never call me Davie again, understand,” Dave commanded.

You nod. Immediately, Dave lets go of the tight grip on the belt and places his palm on your back. He was leaning you back down on the shelf, having the perfect arch for your ass to poke out.

Dave adjusts himself — sliding his cock inside you, but he doesn't go slow. His thrusts were fast, and you didn't care if anyone heard the claps or moans that escaped your lips.

Dave had gripped his hands on the belt tightly, making the leather rub against your skin, and he was enjoying the sounds escaping your lips. Dave was enjoying that his cock was making you moan, whimper and beg for him.

"Baby, those sounds, make my cock twitch like crazy," Dave growled.

“I love your cock so much, Dave. God. It's so fucking amazing.”

“That's it, beg for me, angel,” Dave grunted, smacking your ass.”

With Dave’s firm hand, making contact with your bare ass, you moan as a reflex. Another smack came across your ass, another, and another, and another. You became a moaning bullhorn — bearing your teeth, you lay your forehead on the shelf as you feel each thrust rock the shelf.

"Baby, I'm so fuckin" close.”

Dave’s thrusts had become more animalistic, hot, and intense. It was reminiscent of the other times you were like this. The stress disappeared the second you saw each other, just two dads helping each other. You loved this; this moment was something you always yearned for whenever you needed a stress reliever.

You hear growls escape Dave’s lips; you guess he was bearing his teeth as he was ready to shoot his cum deep inside you. "Fuck, baby. I'm gonna cum. I’m going to get you pregnant,” Dave exclaimed, bearing his teeth. As Dave's hips keep going back and forth into you, looking into your eyes, his cum shoots inside you; Dave steadies himself inches away from your neck.

But Dave’s hips don't stop; they keep going — pushing his cum deeper inside you, some slowly leaking out. You don't question it, but enjoy the moment. “Baby. I can feel your hole wrap around me so tight, I can tell you’re about to cum.”

“We’re not going to stop until you cum for me.”

Dave lets go of his hold on the belt and then melts his hands on your waist.

For some reason, you could feel your cum start to build up from your shaft and almost to the tip of your cock. This feeling has never happened to you before, and this was a different experience than anything you could imagine when you were having sex with Dave.

“Dave, I’m gonna cum; this feels so different; it's so fuckin’ good.”

“That’s right, cum for me, baby.”

You shut your eyes, bearing your teeth, exclaiming as you feel strings of cum escape the slit of your cock, bringing your head back, leaning your head on Dave’s shoulder in exhaustion.

You could feel Dave slip his cock out of you, your hole dripping with his cum. Slowly and softly, you felt the belt start to let go of your wrist.

The second the belt had let go of your skin, your arms retracted back to your sides, and you felt light kisses on your neck from Dave. “How was that, angel?”

You turn your neck and plant your lips onto Dave’s. “Amazing as always,” You smile.

You hear your ringtone go off in your pocket, earning a groan from Dave. “Ugh, and the real world has to come knocking.”

You ignore him as you bend to reach your phone in the crumbled pocket, earning a hiss from you, the pain in your ass settling in now. The hissing stopped as you stood up and held your phone. And saw that Carol was calling.

You snicker, seeing her contact on your phone. “How much do you want to bet that she’s calling me regarding where her husband is? Cause me and you are such close friends.”

Dave wraps his arm around your shoulder; beads of sweat glisten on his arm as it connects with your shoulder. His chin is resting on your other shoulder.

“Nothing, because I know that's why she’s calling you.”

You chuckle as you answer Carol’s call, Dave’s lips latching onto your neck as you bring your phone up to your free ear.

“Hey, Carol,” You did your best to sound enthusiastic.

“Hey, is Dave with you? I’ve been trying to call him, but he isn't answering his phone.”

“Yeah, I’m actually with him. He’s struggling with the costume, but I promise he’s almost ready,” You state, trying to get Dave’s lips off your neck as his teeth latched onto your neck.

You hear Carol’s breath of relief as you smirk. “Thank God, I was getting worried. Everyone was asking me where Santa is and I didn't know what to say—”

“Carol,” You chuckle. “Calm down, He’s almost done. We’ll be in, in a few minutes.” You feel Dave’s hand slide up under your shirt, playing with your nipple.

“Thanks, I’ll see you later. Once again, thank you for helping Dave with this; he hated the idea, but whatever you said really made him step up.”

It wasn't what you said, more of what you did to convince him. Your sore throat after that “conversation” was worth it.

“I’m glad he has a friend like you.”

“Anytime, Carol. Calm yourself down and wait for Dave and me,” You smiled.

“Okay, I will. Bye.”

“Bye,” You state as you hang the phone up, placing your phone on the shelf where you rested your head moments prior. “What happened?” Dave questioned.

“Everyone getting antsy on where the hell is Santa,” You retorted.

“He was too busy —kiss— fucking his little helper —kiss— in the closet.”

“We need to get going; we could only be in here for so long.”

Dave groans next to your ear, causing you to chuckle. “Can’t we just leave? Y’know, and fuck somemore, somewhere?”

“As tempting as that sounds — and I’m fighting restraint to say yes, we need to go out there. Come on, we can have some fun later,” You state as you pick up your pants.

Currently, you were looking for your belt that Dave threw off the second you both entered the closet. “Fuck, where’s my belt?” You grumble.

Dave fixes the wide leather belt on his red jacket. His pants were on; he had buttoned up the red coat and was ready to go. Dave needed the hat you ripped off his head and the beard he took off. But Dave couldn't help himself from staring at your ass as you were looking for your belt.

He was leaning on a nearby wall, watching you with crossed arms. “Y’know, the kids can wait, a couple more minutes. They’ll be fine.”

“Dave…” You started.

“Just imagine me, you, your face on the ground, my handprint, marking that sweet ass, hearing those amazing moans you love to make for me so much.”

“As much as I would love to do that. I need your help finding my belt before Carol kills us.”

Hearing Dave huff a breath in annoyance like a teenager, you can't help but smile and roll your eyes. “You’re no fun, and your belt is right by the door.”

Snapping your neck toward the door, you see your brown belt lying on the ground as if it were waiting to be found by you.

“W-what,” You sputter. “How long were you going to make me look?”

Dave shrugged his crossed arms. “I was just enjoying the view.”

Grabbing the belt, you stand up and push the belt through the loops of your jeans; buckling the belt together, you were ready to leave the small closet while Dave was gawking at you.

“You ready?” You question.

“Yeah, let’s go,” Dave starts to walk out, but you open your mouth to stop him. “Dave?”

“Yeah?” He questions.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh yeah, you’re right.” Dave States, walking towards you, grabbing your biceps, and planting his lips on your forehead, backing up from you with a smirk.

You start to chuckle, and Dave looks at you with confusion as you’re laughing at him. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re either a softie or a dumbass.”

“What?”

“I meant for you to grab your beard and hat,” You smile.

“Oh.”

You and Dave finally make your way out of the small storage closet, acting like nothing had happened moments ago, acting like you just walked in the doors.

“You ready?” You ask.

“Are you going to see me later tonight?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Yes,” Dave smirks, but you can't see it underneath his fake white beard.

“Then yes, I will see you tonight.”

Dave nods and takes a breath as leathered-covered hands are on the doors. In one push, he bellows a “Ho, Ho, Ho from his lips, which sends the kids screaming in excitement as they watch their favorite person walk into the room, waving and making them smile from ear to ear.

While you slipped inside the venue looking for a cup of water. Your throat had seemed dry after screaming Dave’s name so many times. Seeing the drinks table having water bottles, you take one, tearing the cap off as you watch the kids be joyful as they watch Santa/Dave wave at them.

Carol had come up next to you with a smile on her face; you returned a smile at her. “Thank you so much for helping him; these parents were ready to pounce on me if Dave didn't come sooner.”

You couldn't relate to wanting Dave to “come sooner.”

“Anytime, trust me, Dave can be real stubborn.”

“I’m aware. Try being married to him,” Carol jokes; you can’t help but laugh.

“Are you coming over for dinner tomorrow night?”

You shrug. “I don't know, I would have to ask—”

“I already asked; she said yes, and the girls are so excited to play with the kids again. I swear our families have some fun history.”

“You don't know the half of it,” You smile, taking a swig of your water.

“C’mon, It’ll be fun!” Carol smiled. As you thought about it, your wife and Carol could be distracted while the kids play together, giving you and Dave the free will to do what you both do when they’re not home.

“Fine, you’re right, it’ll be fun.”

Carol was overzealous, clapping her hands and lightly hopping. “Okay, you don't need to bring anything, just yourselves; maybe a bottle will be fine, but no gifts.”

“No gifts,” You repeated. “Understood.”

“Now I got to make sure these kids end up in a straight line so they can tell Santa what they want for Christmas, Excuse me,” Carol excused herself.

Your gaze had landed back on Dave, sitting on the red and gold-like throne only reserved for Santa. You could tell he was staring at you and Carol, conversing with each other. You lick your lips, wink at Santa, and mouth the words. “Dinner at your house.”

You didn't know what dinner had planned, but overall, you knew that it would end with you and Dave alone together.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal smut #forbidden romance #sweetenerobert #dave york the equalizer 2 #dave york x reader #dave york #dave york x male reader #dave york x you #dave your x #x bottom male reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fandom

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almostfoxglove · 2 months ago

Note

Hiya! Slipping in here to ask you a few questions!

📝 Which 4 Pedro boys would you have on your pub quiz/bar trivia team?

👖Which P boy's jeans do you most want to slide your hands into the back pockets of?

🍛 Which dish would you eat forever, if given a choice?

hello sweetheart, tysm for these! <3 <3

📝 Which 4 Pedro boys would you have on your pub quiz/bar trivia team?

omg. yes. I love this.

marcus pike: the man has KNOWLEDGE. I just know it. and he'd take trivia nights sooo seriously like let's not even kid. man's up watching jeopardy just in case it's useful for pub trivia. he brings his own pencil to the bar to fill out the sheet.

dieter bravo: his brain is a catalogue of film & tv facts, I'd be a fool to pass him up. he's gonna act like he's way too cool for trivia and will almost certainly wear his sunglasses inside and insist on taking a back corner table to "stay out of sight" but secretly he loves it and never misses a night. also he's 100% whispering you behind the scenes facts about whatever movie the question's about. like so and so was definitely fucking the director and what's his face was full method the whole time, scared all the PAs shitless. it's a little distracting, but I'm here for the tea.

dave york: I mean, come on. the man's ruthlessly competitive and loves any opportunity to flex the fact that any info that crosses his path is locked. away. forever. in his head. he'll hear a fact or watch something out of the corner of his eye once and remember it forever. I have the memory of a goldfish. dave save me. he does pout if we lose though.

max phillips: he's pretty much useless for everything but smack talk but every once in a while he whips out the most obscure knowledge about something you've never fucking heard of that wins you the game. so you know. he sticks around. never hurts to have a "winner" in your corner, whatever the fuck that means, max.

(tagging some pals who love these boys bc pls I need y'all to see the vision @secretelephanttattoo @chronically-ghosted @guiltyasdave)

👖Which P boy's jeans do you most want to slide your hands into the back pockets of?

@jolapeno once reblogged a frankie gifset with a tag like 'find me under his hat like remy' and she was so right for that. let me at that big broad man. gimme a handful of that ass in those tight jeans please

🍛 Which dish would you eat forever, if given a choice?

omg. so many. I am one of those nds who could eat the same thing for every meal for the rest of my life happily. love not having to make a decision, love eating food I know I love. some contenders I never get sick of: pad thai, pretty much any kind of veggie quinoa salad, or calabacitas guisadas (esp from this one place in seattle that I have to eat at at least 3 times whenever I visit that city)

💞 speed dating asks

#asks #freya speaks #speed dating asks #ask game #marcus pike #dieter bravo #dave york #max phillips #frankie morales #tysm for these this was so much fun ahahaha

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sizzlingcloudmentality · 4 months ago

Text

yes, ma'am

Dave York x dominatrix!reader | 9.5k w | explicit, mdni | ao3

summary: life goes sideways and Dave is close to snapping. he needs professional help. aka let himself be dominated and be at the receiving end for once. good thing he has your number.

warnings: sub-ish!Dave (how sub can a born dom be?), dominatrix!reader, no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied, Dave is a good husband and father™️, Molly throwing up, slight humiliation (the boy being called dummy <3), slight ball torture, (guided) masturbation (m), finger sucking, petnames (ma'am, good boy, love), cum eating, slight shoe worship, dick+pussy pronouns, reader wears lipstick, nail polish and stilettos, squint and you miss unprotected PinV; dm me if I missed any

a/n: my submission for @wannab-urs dmamc 2025. i had so much fun domming my man and I tried to make it believable because, well, he's Dave 'the dom' York. enjoy another character study including his dick. thank you @guiltyasdave for the beta and constant love, even though sub!Dave isn't your cup of tea 🥹💛

"Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time."

“Fuck!” His hand slams down on the steering wheel, once, twice. Again, again, again, until his palm hurts and the thrumming pain helps him to push aside the anger boiling inside of him. He rips down his beanie, ripping out a few hairs as well, not giving a shit about it.

He fucked up. If it wasn’t for his partner the mission would have gone south completely, pulling him along. The plan had been perfect, the preparations perfect as well. All he had to do was to pull the trigger and take the target out. But he fucking missed. He fucking missed. Hit the target into the shoulder, and if Dave’s partner didn’t take initiative and put a bullet through the target's head… He doesn’t want to think about it.

He already saw his domestic life passing before his eyes. The police arresting him at home, his daughters terrified and not understanding why they would take their daddy away. Carol at the trial, being questioned if she really didn’t know about her husband’s assassination side hustle, her face puffy and red from crying.

Dave hisses out another curse, hitting the hard wheel in front of him again.

He could always just disappear, always has an emergency duffle bag stowed away with fake IDs and some cash. But he wouldn't stomach it, couldn't stomach it, leaving his family behind.

It was a close call today… He starts the engine and pulls away from the curb, the tail lights of his inconspicuous car slowly blending in with the dozens of others on the nightly roads as he heads home to his inconspicuous life.

The next few days were difficult, to say the least. His higher up at the CIA was a pain in the ass, deadlines were piling up, Molly got sick and needed attention and care, Carol needed his support, the almost-failed mission was still breathing down his neck… He needed a break and there was no break in sight. Not now. His family needs him, his job does, he needs to fucking function now.

“Daddy, ‘m not feeling good,” Molly mumbles, curled up on the couch, her head in Dave’s lap while he’s working on a report on his laptop.

“Just a second, baby.” He’s almost done, he just needs a minute and the worst part of his report would be finished. Molly stirs on the couch, hastily now. God damnit.

“Daddy…” Her little body starts trembling and with a shudder and a sound that makes Dave’s heart hurt, she slumps over and pukes. All over his notes. Over his pants he had just picked up from the dry cleaning. All over the cream colored couch that Carol wanted so badly and that looks like shit now. All over his laptop. The screen flickers a last time before it goes dark.

“I'm so sorry… Please don't be mad, Daddy.” Molly starts crying, feeling sick and miserable, her little hands shaking as she grips her ruined blanket.

The vein on his neck, he feels it throbbing. His laptop, his fucking work laptop, broken. The sticky, disgusting warmth of what once was chicken soup seeps through his trousers and makes his eyelid twitch.

Just pick your baby up, just comfort her, just help her change into new pajamas, just be a good father, just be good…

“Daddy?” She sounds so fragile, her voice nothing more than a weak breath. She clumsily pushes herself up and accidentally nudges the laptop off of Dave’s knees. The carpet swallows the low thud when it hits the ground, but the cracking of the screen is still very much audible, just as much as Molly’s shocked gasp.

“You broke it. You fucking broke it, Molly,” Dave hisses and is on his feet in an instant, his daughter toppling back onto the couch, now crying even more because she upset her dad.

He doesn’t look over to her but picks up his laptop, trying to bring it back to life. The muscles in his jaw clench when Molly’s sobs start pealing in his eardrums. Dave turns towards her, a barked shut up already on his tongue when Carol appears in the doorway.

One quick look is enough for her to assess the situation. Their crying daughter, a picture of misery and guilt written all over her pale face and Dave, nostrils flared and one hand balled into a fist, the unmistakable smell of vomit reaching her nose… No, this wasn’t good.

“It'll take it from here, Dave,” she says when she strides past him. “Go and calm down.” There's no bite to her words, bite wouldn't do any good at this moment. It would only make it worse, make Dave lose the last bits of reason.

Carol scoops Molly up in her arms, pressing a few soothing kisses to the little girl’s temple. She looks over her shoulder and gestures towards the door with a tilt of her chin as if to say please, just go.

And he does. He flees from the living room and the feeling of shame that starts licking at his insides. It gets too much. A thought crosses his mind, a simple calculation, it has been almost ten months since…

A shiver runs through him and he shakes the idea off his mind like a dog tries to shake off an annoying tick. No, he wouldn't need to do it this time, there sure is another possibility to finally get a grip on his life. He just needs to focus more. Needs a better sleep regimen. More training. More protein. More control over all the small bits and pieces of his life.

Dave shuts the door to his home gym behind him and gets to work. If his muscles are trembling and his lungs are begging him for air, he has no time to think about what kind of an asshole father and husband he is. And so he starts tormenting his body to shut off his mind, to keep the guilt and shame at bay. For now.

That night, when he slips under the bed sheets, almost silently to not wake his sleeping wife, the idea creeps back into his head. Like a tick it has sunk its teeth into his skin and he can’t seem to get rid of it since the first time he has done… it.

It has helped him before, more than he likes to admit it. But he hates it. Because he cannot do it on his own. Because he needs someone else doing it for him, to him. And Dave never liked to be dependent on something or someone.

The sheets rustle and Carol’s hand finds his own, wrapping her fingers around his in the darkness as if she was trying to comfort him. But in reality she wanted his comfort and soothing. Dave wasn't a man who was dependent. Because he always was the man everyone else depended on.

He turns on his side and lifts her hand to his lips to press a gentle kiss to Carol’s knuckles.

She hums, shuffles closer, her feet slipping between his calves. After a moment of content silence a murmur crawls over the pillows to Dave and settles right on his chest, where the thought about it sits and gnaws at him like a night terror.

“Maybe… maybe you should go see that therapist again? They really helped you the last time.”

Therapist. That was what he told his wife you were. And the things you did, it was therapy. It is, in a way. It helped him. And he hates that it does. He hates that he can’t function like he needs to. He hates that Carol sounds so timid when she suggests therapy, afraid that he could snap at her, too, because she dares to point out his weakness.

He sighs, her soft knuckles still held against his lips. “Is Molly okay?”

“She’s a little better, yes.”

The silence weighs heavy for a moment, Carol’s unanswered question pressing down on Dave’s rib cage. Or is it the feeling of guilt? About being a shit show of a father and husband? About needing you to function, even if it all feels so wrong but afterwards it always feels good and right and he feels better, every damn time?

“I'll make an appointment,” he murmurs and his lips find her ring finger, kissing the spot where the simple golden band always sits. She never takes the ring off, just like him. Carol nestles into his arms, the relief clear when she whispers her thank you, I love you into the hollow between his clavicles. God, he is such a failure, he thinks to himself with his wife in his arms and you in his mind.

You are completely booked out. Months ahead. Of course you are. There never is a shortage of people who want your services. Or to be exact, who need them. So when you received the request for an appointment “asap, ma'am”, signed by David York, you told him you were free again in three months. But then another customer canceled their session and because you like David, you give preference to him.

So a week and a half later you find yourself entering the bar of the Rosewood, one of the finest hotels of the city. Doors magically open because there’s always some finance or marketing guy holding them open for you. Each step with your pointy high heels parts the crowd in front of you and is paved with sleek smiles and licked lips of the men who move out of your way.

You pay them no mind, they only exist at the periphery of your focus. They are not important and will never be. What is important is your customer for this day. You recognize him, the way he sits at the bar, one foot on the footrest of the empty stool next to him, the other one firmly planted onto the ground. Just another pretty man in a suit, interchangeable for most who might look at him.

But for you he was different. A customer, first and foremost. A challenge, too. And he's probably the only man in this bar who is not doubling over to get a crumb of your attention. You had to work for what your customers usually give you gladly and freely: their acceptance and sometimes even devotion.

That is why you like Dave York, because working for him and with him is rewarding. It satisfies you to no end to finally turn his smoothness into something with cracks and weaknesses. And to have him thank you for it.

One of the many men in suits in this bar moves from his place on the outer borders of your attention into the spotlight and obscures the view on Dave. The guy looks you up and down, tries to smile a flirty smile but all you see is a pathetic obstacle. Your mouth already opens to tell him no to whatever suggestion he wants to make, when a big hand lands on the man's shoulder.

Thick fingers, blunt nails, a simple golden wedding band. You look past the surprised strangers face and find Dave, standing behind the man.

“Sorry buddy, not tonight,” Dave tells the man. For a moment they look at each other, like two wolves who found a piece of meat and now silently fight for ownership. Two alphas in suits. But only one of them is a wolf, the other one is just a dog.

“Not ever,” you add when you pass the stranger. The sting of your words gets soothed by your sweet smile, showing off your wolfish canines as you do. Your gaze meets Dave’s own. Two alphas looking at each other again, this time both are wolves.

You don't even bother to care about the other man who disappeared into insignificance as quickly as he had the guts to peek his head out of it. Your focus is solely on Dave now. He looks tired, frail even in the small details of his facial expression. He already looks cracked, maybe you wouldn’t have to work as hard as usual today.

“It has been a while.” You sit down at the bar and Dave gestures for the bartender. He always orders you a drink before you both go up to the booked suite. He never not acts according to the unspoken rules of those kinds of arrangements. He is polite and respectful, even if the air around him very much tastes like aversion. Not against you as a person or the work you do. The aversion is directed against himself and the fact that he was sitting in this bar with you and not at home with whoever was waiting there for him.

He nods his head. That would have to do as an answer. “The usual?” he asks instead when the bartender waits for the order.

“The usual,” you confirm and watch Dave order your vodka on ice. It is a nice change of pace, to not talk and to enjoy the silence, to stretch it like a fabric until it becomes see-through and the silent words between them become audible. Two wolves, dressed in white shirts and blouses, in polished shoes, mustering each other over the rims of their glasses. Sizing each other up.

You take a big sip of your vodka and set the glass down. There’s still a good portion of the booze left, but you need to keep a clear mind for what comes next.

“Are you done?”

Usually he obliges and leaves the rest of his drink on the counter, usually he wants to get over and done with it, with you, with himself. But tonight his need for some more liquid courage is bigger.

“Not yet, ma'am.” His legs spread a little more when he leans back on the barstool. Not in a sleazy manner, not to act like he is hung like a horse. No, taking up space comes naturally to him. And again he is respectful about it. He gives your crossed legs enough room between his thighs, almost like he acts as a buffer between the bustling bar and you.

A thought crosses your mind and makes you smile. He is protective, even though you mean nothing to him. You stretch out your leg, just enough to let the tip of your pointed stiletto brush against his shin. A silent praise for him being good.

Dave’s hand suddenly grabs your ankle, following his first impulse of inhibiting an unwanted touch. Your eyes snap up and meet his, your surprise showing in your raised brows. The grip of his fingers loosens immediately, like he touched something that he wasn’t allowed to, like a too hot cookie fresh from the baking tray.

“Finish your drink then.” A demand dressed up as a friendly request. You pull your foot away, Dave’s privilege of getting a feel for you is already over.

“Yes, ma'am,” he says lowly, just loud enough to be heard over the hustle and bustle of the bar. He swirls his drink in his glass and takes another look at you. You look like some partner in a law firm or some higher up shoving around numbers on paper and employees in meetings. Expensive clothes, expensive designer bags, expensive heels. He had seen them often enough to know that you only wear those 700$ pairs. You’re sleek, smooth, polished, with edges that look round and safe to touch but will cut through skin and flesh if you want to.

He takes a sip of his drink and watches you smile, the red lip stretching over your teeth. He feels a part of him getting excited, this one stupid part of himself, the part which constantly makes troubles. Some corner of his brain just loves this. And apparently needs it too, needs it to make him function as a person. This little part loves to make you smile. And he hates it.

You let him finish his drink, let him buy himself a few more minutes before you leave the bar and enter the grand and shiny hotel lobby. Having people move out of your way just by the way your heels click is satisfying. But having someone in front doing it for you is better. You watch Dave plowing through the lobby as he makes his way to the elevators. His ass looks cute, you think to yourself and enter the cabin with him.

He’s so well behaved for you, pressing the buttons, shielding you from the other guests and making sure you can stand comfortably without anyone standing too close to you, himself included, You smile at him again and for a moment one corner of his lips twitch. Good, that's good. He's responsive tonight.

Dave exits the elevator and struts through the long hallway, countless doors left and right until you reach the right one. A quiet beep when the key card opens the door, muffled footfall on the thick carpet and a discreet click when he closes and locks the door behind you both again. Another reason you love this hotel so much, beside the soft beds and high end shower products in the marble bathrooms: the soundproofing.

No matter how hard the stomp, how loud a scream, how sharp a smack, the walls of these rooms seem to swallow the noises and they are never sated. They drink down every word and whisper and always seem to want more. Like the people you work with.

“Tell me about your rules and limits tonight, David,” you say and look around the suite for a moment. You gesture for him to sit down on one of the plush chairs facing a full body mirror.

All you know about Dave is his name, his phone number and another number as an emergency contact. The rest is guesswork you did over the last months and years. The golden ring on his ring finger? He never takes it off. He's married or maybe widowed.

Dave takes off his jacket and hangs it over the backrest of the velvet chair. One time a little toy figurine fell out of his pocket when he took his jacket off. So there must be a child who he has a close enough relationship with for it to sneak little gifts into his pockets. This time nothing out of the ordinary happens. He simply follows your instructions and sits down.

“The same as always.” He lifts his hips again to tug his slacks down, just enough for them to not cut into his groin. “Nothing that leaves marks on me, no touching me between waist and knees, no restraints, no gagging, nothing enters my body, nothing leaves my body without my consent.”

Yeah, just like you thought. “So basically just talking. You know, you could have ‘just talking’ a lot cheaper, down at the bar for example.” You pull a chair for yourself closer to Dave, with the mirror diagonal behind it.

“I'm not here for just talking,” he says quietly with his eyes fixed on his knees.

“Oh I know, don't you worry.” You sit down now, your legs crossed over your knees and one of your high heels swaying in the air just between Dave's spread legs. “Next: safety. Repeat the rules for me, will you?”

He looks up at you and sighs. “We use the color system. Green means more, yellow means keeping the intensity, red means stop.” He likes the simplicity of this system, appreciates it at home, and loves the way Carol loses it whenever he keeps her on yellow for a little too long. But he doesn’t like to be the one using it himself.

“Good. What else means stop?” Your leg is slowly bouncing up and down and Dave's focus shifts to the pencil thin heel for a moment.

“The… the safeword. Helsinki.”

His eyes meet yours again. Dark ponds of raging brown, the storm behind them perfectly contained, for now. “And…?” you prompt, prodding him a little bit with the sweetness in your voice.

“And there's no shame in using my safeword. Or not using it if I'm… feeling good.” He almost chokes on the last words. There is shame in the whole situation, no matter how he looks at it. But you smile again and this one part of him is relieved. He did good, fuck.

“Good job, you remembered,” you praise and the shiny leather of your shoe ghosts along his calf. “Let's start then. No touching yourself or me and no talking unless I tell you to. Got it?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He never sounded less enthusiastic than now. His pretty mouth curves into the tiniest scowl and he looks a little more handsome like this. In another life you two could have a lot of fun. Real fun. Fucked up fun.

In another life you might kneel before him and beg for some peace of mind. He could be the therapy the therapist needs. But not in this life. Because in this he was the one needing peace of mind and you were the provider.

“Now, Dave, I want you to take a deep breath and look at yourself in the mirror. Right into your eyes.”

He obeys. When he meets his own gaze through the mirror the scowl becomes more prominent. You will let him sit with his own thoughts for a minute or so. Enough time to recap your last sessions with him.

Pretty quickly into your business relationship with Dave you found out about his history with the military. No details really, you just knew that he had served for several years. Being degraded on a daily basis in your forming years does something to the brain. And it surely did something to Dave's brain because his tough outer layer cracked beautifully for you as soon as you called him a ‘weak fucking loser’.

And that was all that you did since then: humiliating him, watching him turn from the hard and controlled man into one who is struggling to loosen up and finally a man who spits out ‘Helsinki!’ and flees from the scene with a raging boner. He is the weirdest customer you have. Because his requests are so tame, so small scaled for what you could do and for what he could really take.

But all you had to do was calling him names and having him palm himself through his pants. You are not exactly complaining, he paid you as much as the guys who go the whole nine yards. Dave makes you work for your money though. It is a fight, every time.

You see it in his face, he is fighting right now, while he stares himself down through the mirror. A fight he can never win. His upper lip twitches, like he is going to growl at his own reflection any moment. Oh, it is clear as day to you, he really needs this session.

You might need to switch things up a bit, you want your customers satisfied after all. And the way he glares at himself tells you that he needs more today.

“What are you thinking, tell me.”

Your voice pulls him out of his spiraling thoughts. It’s sweet like honey but also sticky. He knows that your mouth is a sugary trap. Every word and gesture and touch a carefully laid out crumb to lead him to where you want him: staring up at you, doing whatever it takes to get your sugar lips to smile at him.

A little nudge of your heel against his thigh. A little harder than it had to be to get his attention. He doesn’t like that he likes it.

“Whimp,” Dave says with heartfelt disdain.

“What else? And keep looking at yourself.” Your heel digs a little more into his thigh and you can feel the tremble of his muscle beneath his slacks. He sure was a runner, you think. Thick thighs look so pretty with a few streaks on them. But no, no marks. “You can tell me everything, you know?”

Dave swallows thickly, the soft velvet of your voice is making his throat tight. He's trapped, caged in between your shiny stilettos and your mouth. His thigh throbs against the thin heel.

He takes in his reflection, the man in power, in slacks and a crisp white dress shirt, in polished shoes. A high heel prodding him. His fingers clutching the armrests. His face tight and sour. His wedding ring glinting.

“Cheater.”

You hum, pleased with his answer and gracing him with a small smile in return. So he is in a relationship. Good, this would make it easier. For you.

Your foot moves, the pointy heel being exchanged with the flat of the sole, pressed against his inner thigh. You drag it up the seam, just a little bit.

This is breaking the ‘no touching’ rule. And yet, he endures, fighting his silent internal fight.

Interesting.

“What’s your color, love?” You tilt your head to the side, enjoying how Dave’s nostrils flare at your audacity. He is defying the sweetness of your words. But he wants more of the stickiness. Just a little bit. It won’t hurt, right?

“Green,” he grits out. Fucking whimp, cheater, loser, failure, he tells himself silently through the mirror. Your sole moves higher now, the pointy tip already indicating towards your final destination.

Green. He wants more, he will get more. Your shoe slides higher and leaves a trail of dusty dirt on his clean pants. He will hate that, you know he will, because you would be pissed off, too.

“Are you not embarrassed, Dave? Sitting here, paying money for this? What would she say, if she knew?”

His eyes snap from the mirror to you, the corner of his lips move into another scowl. The wolf would be baring his teeth soon.

You tap the sole of your shoe against his crotch, just enough for a little sting that lets him jump slightly. Dave looks at you, stunned. Such a pretty sight.

“Oh what's with the attitude now? Did I say you could look at me?” You smile at him, the tip of your tongue running along the edges of your teeth. “Do you think you deserve it, looking at me, dummy?”

His eyes widen and his mouth opens, ready to protest, to call this off, ready to show you your place. But the only thing leaving his throat is a choked sound. Probably because you keep rubbing your foot into his groin, pushing into the not-so-soft-anymore softness.

“Eyes back on the mirror.” Another quick rap, sole meeting joined seams, another jolt and, oh yes, a moan, finally. The walls with their expensive satin tapestry greedily drink down the throaty sound. “Now.”

Your command has nothing of the powdered sugar quality anymore and he obeys. Who even is he, he wonders for a moment of clarity when he meets his own eyes through the mirror again. A stupid man, growing hard under the shoe of a stranger, a stupid man with a loving wife at home. A stupid man with guns hidden all over town. Growing hard.

He looks into the mirror, feeling detached from his own reality. He watches the shiny shoe move between the thighs of this man in the mirror, he sees the stomach of the man tense under his dress shirt, he notices how the man's mouth opens. He hears him groan, this man who looks like himself.

“God, are you seriously turned on by this? That's embarrassing. No wonder you pay me for it instead of getting it at home.” You love being mean for money and you love how Dave writhes beneath your high heel and squirms under your gaze. “Do you like this? Answer me, dummy.”

“Yes.” You only get a single hissed word as an answer. Adorable.

“Yes what?” you hiss back, applying a little more pressure to the bulge showing so beautifully.

“Yes, ma'am,” he snarls now. The wolf is showing his teeth and you're gonna pull one out. You are the only one allowed to bite in this arrangement.

“Christ, do I have to spell it out for you, stupid?” Your foot drops lower, right over the tight little package nestled under the thick, elongated dick outline. The pointy shoe tip slowly pokes into the squishy warmth of Dave’s clothed balls. His breath hitches. “Yes, ma'am, what?” you prompt him, the sugar returning to your words.

“I… I like this, ma'am.” His eyes are still glued to the picture in the mirror and he seems to register that this is him. The visual of an expensive high heel pressing against balls matches the thrumming, stingy feeling of pain in his own slacks. And another thing belongs to him, besides the pain. The jumping hard-on, right above this damned shoe.

He swallows thickly, his blunt nails digging into the velvet of the armrests. “Fuck. I like it,” he stutters, staring at his face, like he is seeing himself for the first time. Like he recognizes himself. His stormy eyes become a little calmer, the silent internal fight becoming more quiet.

“There we go. Good job.” You pull your foot away from him and lean closer, elbows to knees, one finger coming up to his chin. He just now notices that your nail polish matches your lipstick. The color would look good around his dick. In another life.

“Look at me,” you croon, laying out your trap for him again. The pad of your finger so warm and gentle under his chin, guiding his eyes to yours. You're smiling, red stretching over white, he did good and his cock throbs against the zipper. He’s wagging his tail for you.

“Good boy.” You lean closer and he can smell your perfume, the mint and vodka on your breath, your amber-scented dominance tinted in black and scarlet. The sweetness of your praise coats his tongue and he swallows it down, to make it a part of him. A little secret part on the inside only he knows about.

“Color?” Soft, alluring, a trap made for him to curl up in.

He takes a moment to think, but not too much. The thinking part of his brain was already beginning to shut down. “Green,” he rasps with his eyes fixed on the way your eyebrows dance when you smile again.

“Good. Now, I have a question for you.” Your thumb rubs against his chin, just enough to feel the day worth of scruff beneath the digit. “Will you take your cock out for me? Let me see him?”

Gentle eyes, soft words, tender chin scratches. You have his tail wagging. Slowly, slowly you are domesticating him into a dog, one praise at a time.

Dave nods his head. There’s no harm in showing his dick. That doesn't make him a cheater, he tells himself. Maybe he could make you smile again, he knows he has a good cock. Good balls too. Maybe you could squish them again. Just a little bit.

“That's a good boy. Show him to me. Show me how hard I make you.” You lean back in your chair and watch Dave hesitantly fumble with his belt, then top button, then zipper. He still has a little fight left in him. You would be concerned if not. A man like him will never give up completely, that is what makes him so interesting for you, so much fun to play with.

The teeth of the zipper hiss, the fabric rustles when he pulls it over his ass and down his thighs, over his knees. He looks a bit disgraceful like this, sitting in the velvet chair, slacks pooled around his shoes, tented black briefs, looking at you expectantly. You would have let him take his shoes off and fold his pants if he wanted. But he chose to be… excited. And a little impatient. Truly adorable.

You move a little closer again, inspecting what you can see so far. You never saw his dick and usually you are not too keen on seeing your customers’ genitals, they were just extensions, more of the canvas you like to work on. But since Dave always made a fuss about decidedly not showing signs of arousal you became curious. Out of professionalism, of course.

It was looking good, the tent. A thick head pressed against the cotton and crowned with a now black, later milky stain.

“You’re leaking? For me?” You sound like he presented you with a bouquet of flowers or a painting he doodled with crayons. You reach out, your fingers stopping shy before touching the wet spot. You look up at him, a glint of horror in his eyes. No touching, with your hands. “Is this okay?”

A head shake and a dry swallow, then he finds his voice again. “No. Ma'am. I’m sorry.” You touching him would be cheating; in his head this makes sense.

“That's okay, don't worry.” You purse your lips, tapping a finger against the red on them. Then you hold out your hand, palm up. “Lend me a hand?”

Dave hesitates. His dick protesting with stirs against the briefs, not caring about who would touch him and how. He puts his hand in yours, trusting that you would accept his limit.

And you do, of course, you're a professional. Which means you know how to work your way around limits and how to stretch boundaries. You guide his thumb to the wet, glossy spot and rub the pad over the fabric, once, twice, until Dave grunts from the tingling friction.

“Let me know how you taste,” you coo and lift his thumb to your mouth. You open it wide, your tongue sticking out, reversing the roles but he still is your wolf in a dog costume. His eyes glint and for a second you can smell his dominance, too, lingering under the scent of his precum.

Two beasts who recognize each other, just for the fragment of a second, as you look into each other's eyes. But only one can be in charge tonight. You lean in and take his thumb into your mouth. Deeply. You sink down until your lips leave a red lipstick print around the base, one half on his palm, the other half on the back of his hand.

He tastes salty, with a sharp bite to it, just like the man himself. He presses his thumb deeper, can’t resist to have the upper hand with you just once. Your pussy clenches. She likes him.

Oh, in another life, you would let him wreck you. But not now. You suck his finger until you can’t taste his precum anymore and pull off of him.

“Kneel.”

He huffs and his brows draw together. “What?”

“Wrong answer, stupid.” Your foot snaps up, sole pushed against his hard dick, pointy heel somewhere in between his balls. “Try again.”

There it is again, the storm in his eyes. He is so much fun to work with, so easy to rile up, always keeps you on your toes. The same toes that feel Dave's cock throb through his briefs and the leather of your shoe. You move your heel from left to right, just enough to make him squirm and hiss.

“Yes, ma'am.” That's what he says but it sounds a lot like ‘fuck you’.

You laugh at that, sit back in your chair and put your foot back down on the ground. “That's more like it. Come on, chop chop. On your knees.”

He does as he is told. Growling and glaring, avoiding his ridiculous reflection in the mirror, of a tough guy with his pants around his ankles and leaking like his cock is drooling for you. Dave finds himself on his knees as he sinks into the thick carpet. Your feet are right in front of him, he catches a glimpse of his face in the glossy black tip of your heels. He looks twisted, but unmistakably like him.

“And now: touch yourself. Over your briefs. Nice and slow. Eyes on my shoes.” You place one foot on his thigh and his eyes follow the movement without moving too much. “You seem to like them?”

His hand, the one with your lipstick on it, runs along his length, slowly, calculated, avoiding his sensitive tip as he does. “Yes, ma'am,” Dave mutters and squeezes his girth like he's trying to soothe himself because your voice doesn’t do it anymore. It's all harsh now and not sticky-sweet.

Your heel gets pressed into his thigh, the thin end biting into his skin. “Yes, ma'am, what?”

His jaw ticks. His thumb is soothingly rubbing over the head of his cock, knuckle pushed against the underside. “Yes, ma'am, I like your shoes.”

“I thought so. You got so hard for them, didn’t you?”

He takes a deep breath and keeps on palming himself, a steady back and forth. The wet blotch grows. “I-...” He breaks off when you start caressing his balls with your sole. Back and forth. Front to back, in the same rhythm as he strokes himself. “I did get hard for them, yes. For you, ma'am.”

He just wants some of that sugar back, some of those honeyed words from you. He's on his knees already, what else could you want?

You let him kneel and watch his hand move, register his hip twitch. You brush your fingers through his hair, just a light pet.

“Take him out now. I can look at him, right?”

He nods his head and tugs himself out. Caught behind the waistband you get a first peek. Girthy, a stunning color, a dusty rose turning into an earthy pinkish-red, cut, a clear bead of precum forming over the slit before it runs down and spreads over the already glistening skin.

With another tug he pushes his briefs under his sack, forcing it up nice and tight, right under his cock. He has a slight curve, too. Fucking perfect. Your pussy clenches again.

Dave's hand fists the base, some of your red lipstick transfers to his shaft. The closest your mouth will probably get to him. Such a shame, you think, swallowing down some pooling spit, because you really would like to get a sore jaw from sucking him off.

“Now that's a pretty cock you got there. Hold still.”

You crouch over to Dave and place your palm over his hand, giving his dick a good squeeze with Dave's hand.

“I won't touch him, I promise. But let me guide you.” Molasse thick, that's how your voice sounds. Almost too thick to be swallowed down.

He manages to do it nonetheless. Ignoring that this is out of the comfort zone of David York, the husband and father. But oh, those words taste delicious for the man who knows rules and laws but lives outside of them.

His own hand relaxes under yours and with the first stroke another yes, ma'am drips from his lips.

This is a strange feeling. He guided several hands in his life, taught them where to rub, how to twist, how much to squeeze. But having his own hand touch him with those foreign movements was… new. Sexy. Frustrating too, because you seem to know exactly what not to do.

He looks down between his thighs and sees two hands moving and he really tries to imagine it was just your hand. He wants your touch. Christ, he wants your mouth on him, too. And you would do it, you would gladly accept the proposal and call him a good boy again. But he can't. He can't do it, it's not the right thing to do. He feels his wedding ring slide up over his tip and back down. No, he can’t have you touch him directly.

But he can give in to you a little more. His dignity hangs over the other chair, taken off together with his jacket right at the beginning. You might as well make him your bitch. He throbs against his fingers and Dave asks himself if you can feel it, too. Without being able to stop it his hips buck into his fist, your fists. You were moving his hand so goddamn slow, he needs more. More pressure, more speed.

“Are you not happy, love? Are you being ungrateful?” You slow down even more until your palms reach his top again. Dave has lubed himself up so nicely with his own precum, you can feel it spreading between your own fingers. With a tight grip you flick and twist, like screwing open a bottle, twisting the cork out of a bottle of champagne.

Dave’s body jerks as do his hips and he moans again, feeding the soundproofing of the hotel room the delicious sounds he makes.

You tut at him, smirking and mocking and twist his hand over his cock again.

“Oh, so you are ungrateful? You have to ask for the things that you want, dummy, That's how this works.” You loosen your grasp and straighten your back, cross your arms and then your legs until the sole of your shoe hovers over his balls. “So…? Are you ungrateful?”

He shakes his head and fights the urge to rock himself against your shoe. More precum gets pushed out of his slit, he fucking aches. He could just spit out the safeword and jerk it in his car, like usual. But he is too proud for that. He is going to finish what he started here, in this room with you.

“No, I’m not. I just-...” he breaks off when you start bouncing your foot, knocking against his balls with almost gentle pats. Dave clutches his girth with a groan, his hips bucking forwards again. “I…,” he strokes himself once, hoping you would get the implications without having to put it into words.

A finger hooks under his chin again, he can smell himself on your skin. A nudge and he looks at your face again, the way you bare your teeth at him in a graceful smile doesn't cover up the authoritative tone hidden in your sweet words.

“You already did so good today. But I want you to do one last thing, yes?” You rub your finger under his chin, smearing some of his sticky precum over his skin. “Will you try it, for me?”

He'd do a backflip, if you kept up the carrot and stick game for a little longer.

And then you do it again, showing him the treat he could have if he only was a good enough boy for you. You start licking your hand clean. Languid laps with the flat of your tongue, starting with the little finger.

“Love, I want you to fuck your hand. You don't have to hold back.” You suckle on the tip of your finger before licking Dave's salty residue off of the next one. You stop at the tip, twirl your tongue around the fingernail painted all ruby and smile at him. Just as if you were licking an ice cream spoon clean.

“Just make sure to keep your hand still and fuck into it.” Now middle and index finger. Your tongue runs over both of them before you put them into your mouth. In and out they go, sluggish and without hurry, you hum at the taste like it's the sweetest cream.

And then, instead of doing a backflip, Dave starts moving his hips. His eyes glued to your mouth and the red of your lipstick transfers to your fingers before it disappears in the dark, tight, wet cavern of your mouth.

His hand doesn't feel anywhere close to what he imagines your mouth does. Dave is just glad that he can finally care for his aching boner. With every thrust, in sync with your fingers sliding in and out between your lips, his balls slap against the leather sole of your shoe. It stings, but it stings good. He didn’t even know he liked this before tonight. Before your expensive stiletto pressed and rapped and pushed into them.

He ruts his hips faster now, not matching the speed he needs, but he makes it up with squeezing himself hard. Soft squelches come from between his legs now with every back and forth. More noises for the thick carpet and walls to swallow, never to be heard again.

You’re sucking on your thumb now while Dave's clutching himself harder, hips thrusting in a relentless pace. He fucks his hand like you told him to.

He looks so perfect in the mirror, that little piece of ass that you can see from your angle. Clenching and unclenching, the movements draw you in, hypnotize you. The perfect cream-white canvas for blotches of red and sprinkles of violet, for scarlet streaks, oval imprints of your teeth even.

You lick your lips when his thighs start trembling. How good he would look if he fucked himself on your strap-on. In another life, you muse and press your thighs together. The sound your thumb makes between your lips resembles the one that will come from your wet cunt later, when you're at home again. With Dave's salty taste in your mouth and a girthy vibrator, one to match the size of his cock.

His eyes meet yours again, just for a second before they dart down to your tongue again when you start licking your palm. He's still in there, the hard man, the one who's fighting against himself, the one who probably whispers insults inside his head. You can see him in that short moment, somewhere swimming in the stormy mahogany.

You stop licking your palm when Dave winces after snapping his hips harder into his hand and his balls against your sole. He’s at his personal limit.

“Almost there, love, hm?” Another lap to your palm, seemingly unbothered by the state he is in. “Do you want to come?”

He groans and growls, his glutes are burning, his knees hurt, his fucking balls thrum. Oh, he wants to come alright. “Yes, ma'am,” he grits out.

“Say that you're pretty when you fuck your hand for me.” Your tongue flicks over your palm again and reveals your canines again. Just a wolf cleaning her silky fur.

If the need for his orgasm wasn't bigger than his pride, he would have rolled his eyes and fucked that smug smile right out of your face. But he really, really needs to come. He is so close. He can play along a little longer.

“I'm pretty when I fuck my… fucking hand for you,” he snarls and a something in the depth of his guts starts fluttering with a burning strength.

“Good job. You really are pretty like that, love.” You pull the leg of your pants up, the heavy, black fabric now rests bunched up on your knee. Dave still ruts into his hand, chasing the release he knows he can’t have that easily.

“Say ‘I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am.’,” you order and push your fingers through his hair, careful to not ruin his side part. A single unruly strand gets fixed with your spit-wet fingers. Nothing that leaves marks on me. Well, he can wash off your little saliva mark later.

More carrots, more sweet words and sugar touches, more of your smug but also content smile. Christ, he just wants to do something right. And you are offering him an easy fix. Dave whines and leans into your touch. Vigorously he pounds his hand, his balls trapped between his waistband and your sole and it all feels so warm, hot, his pulse beats in his ears and throbs in his straining cock. “I will make a pretty mess for you, ma'am. Fuck. I need to move my hand.”

His big browns look up at you, same parts furious, pleading and desperate.

“Say please,” you chirp and tilt your hips to feel the middle seam of your pants pressed against your clit. “Be good, say please and you can come for your ma'am.”

“Please. Fuck, please!” he barks as he steps into your honeyed trap you have laid out for him from the beginning. He is stuck in it knees first, tail between his legs, barking, howling, wagging. How to catch a wolf.

“That's my good boy. Go on, you can come. Make a mess.”

He did good, thank god. Dave starts moving his hand, jerking his cock hard and fast, his teeth sink into his flew to bite back a loud howl when he feels himself coming.

It is beautiful to watch for you, how his eyes roll back slightly, how his hand moves so fast that the smacking sounds are like a rapid fire, how he thrusts a few more times into his tight fist until he squirts his thick creamy cum all over. It feels hot on your skin, like molten wax poured over your shin, down to your foot and finally your high heel.

You moan in unison with Dave. You never are above feeding the soundproofing some of your noises as well. An offering to the gods, to keep you blessed with men like Dave.

He continues to stroke himself, choking on a few whimpers, milking the last remnants of cum out of him. His wedding band isn't shining as much now, all dull and foggy with his seed dimming the golden hue. His hand trembles, his runner thighs tremble too, his briefs, still tucked under his balls, are ruined and he slowly, slowly loosens his hard grip around his cock.

“Love, you did so good. That wasn't so hard, was it?” His cum starts running down your leg now and you both watch it for a moment.

“I'll get you a tissue,” he mutters breathily, ready to finally get off his knees and gain some dignity back.

“Nuh uh. Clean up without tissues or towels.” Nothing enters my body without my consent. He looks at you and scoffs out single disbelieving laughter. You shrug your shoulders. “Listen, you came this far. You can be a coward and use your safe word. Or you can take responsibility and clean up the mess you made. It's an easy task.”

You are right. It is an easy task, compared to the mess his life is. It's easy. It's easy. It's easy. He leans forward and swallows, thickly. He looks up at you and sticks his tongue out. It's easy.

You lift your leg up to his mouth, nodding your head, smiling, baring your teeth like a docile pet wolf. Dave's tongue meets your skin, smooth under his slick, powdery scent under his salty stench. He licks a stripe from your ankle up your shin, then another one and another one. Slowly. It's easy. One lick at a time. Fixing the mess he made.

His clean hand holds your foot, nestled in your stiletto, and he laps his cum from the bridge with shorter strokes.

Dave doesn't flinch away from his own taste, he’s licked his own hands clean often enough to enjoy it to a degree. A form of cannibalism, eating his young, feasting on his own potential.

He cleans your skin, lifting your foot higher and his tongue pressed into the small gaps between the leather and your toes. You pet his head again, humming, purring under his ministrations. Dave's lips purse half above the leather and half above your skin, a small kiss before he sucks his cum out of the tiny gap.

It really is easy. He licks over the glossy black, leather and salt coating his senses, another sugary good boy in his ears and in his hair your claws graze over his scalp.

A few more licks and kisses and the creamy white has disappeared from the shiny piece of leather. He can see himself in it again. A twisted image, but unmistakably Dave.

He rubs his spit into the smooth animal skin, you can wash his mark off later if you want. He's done. With cleaning and with this. It's over, for tonight at least.

He lowers your stiletto onto the thick carpet again and offers free sight to his spent cock, heavy and sticky. No more wagging, no more dog. He's back to being an equal.

“You did amazing, Dave. Really good.”

Your hand falls to his shoulder, giving him a gentle pat before you rise to your feet and over him your hand to pull him up. He takes it, groaning quietly when his knees crack. Dave feels a little shaky, or maybe more shook than shaky. But he feels good, lighter, loose. Not even ashamed.

“Can I get you anything? Something to drink, something to eat?” You don't even wait for his answer and turn to the minibar, pulling out a cold water for him.

“No, thank you. I'm good. I'll just take a quick shower.” With a thud his shoes land on the floor as he kicks them off. His slacks follow, then his damp briefs.

You watch him undress, amazed and attracted to his confidence and nonchalance, attracted to what lies beneath Dave's clothes, too. In another life you two would be a great match.

“Do you want me to wait for you?” You turn towards the minibar again, looking for something else. There it is, a kitkat.

“You don't have to, but thank you.” Dave smiles at you and shrugs his shirt off his shoulders. He holds out his hand now, naked in front of you and not bothered by it. Smug. Big dick energy and he can afford it.

You shake his hand, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment. “Until the next time then. Take good care, Dave.”

You smile at each other, the possibilities of being reckless crackling between you, but then he lets go of your hand and turns his back towards you, heading into the bathroom. When the water starts running behind closed doors you take his shirt from the pile of clothes and nuzzle into the fabric. It's a good smell. Masculine, of course.

Slipping a few fingers into your pants and deeper, behind the elastic of your lace underwear and still deeper, dipping them into your sopping pussy, you inhale his scent deeply, clenching to the thought of his tongue on your skin.

You treat yourself to a moment with your fingers buried in your cunt before you pull out again. You write your name on the inside of his collar, invisible ink made out of your slick, setting a scent mark, a last reward for this good boy.

When Dave enters the room again later you have disappeared, in thin air, no trace of you is left. But something churns inside of him when he gets dressed.

Later, in his car, it clicks. Pussy. It smells like pussy, right in front of him. You god forsaken menace. Of course you had to have the last word. Marking him, mocking him, making him hard again. And of course your pussy smells delicious. Sticky sweet. He groans and adjusts himself, driving home a little faster now.

The house lays in silence when he steps over the threshold. The girls are fast asleep, he checked it immediately with a peek into their rooms. Carol is asleep as well. Soft and warm and plush under the blanket, curled up on her side. Dave kicks his shoes off and steps out of his slacks and briefs. They are still damp in the front, from the precum you urged out of him. But the shirt stays on.

He slips under the blanket and pulls Carol closer, her perfect ass against his already half-hard cock. A hand gently kneads one of her breasts, the other one tugs down her pajama pants.

She's awake in no time, whimpering when he grinds against her rear and lets his dick glide between her ass cheeks.

“Therapy was good?” Her voice is so soft, always sweet for him, never harsh, rarely ever does a no come from her.

“Yeah. Missed you…” he mumbles into the crook of her neck, biting and pulling on her skin until she winces softly.

“Dave-...”

He pinches her nipples and she winces again. A waft of your pussy hits him and he breathes it in deeply.

“Color, baby.”

“What?” Carol chuckles, not yet believing that she’s about to be fucked by her always loyal, always loving and caring husband.

“You’ve heard me. Give me your color.” His cock now slides between her legs and through her folds. He’ll slick her up real good, leaking already with a quiet thrumming sting in his balls. Carol’s pussy feels as good as yours smells.

“Green,” she gasps and rocks back against him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he growls before biting the flesh over her shoulder blade and pushing into her.

When Dave finally is satisfied, soaked in Carol and him, she rolls on her back and watches him get a warm towel for her. Whatever this therapist did with Dave, it did wonders. He should go more often.

thank you for reading! and remember, kids, comment or reblog to show me I've been a good girl and did a good job, please and thank you

find my Dave York masterlist here

find my general masterlist here

more a/n: I'd probably suck as dominatrix, shout-out to all the bad ass professionals and hobby dom(me)s out there, you are amazing and I'm literally on my knees for you

dividers: @/saradika-graphics

#dmamc2025 #dmamc 2025 #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york smut #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu #pedro pascal #my writing

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guiltyasdave · 1 year ago

Text

no one has to know what we do

chapter 2 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: Try as you might, Dave and you can’t stay away from each other.

word count: 4.4k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that Dave pulls, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, fingering, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, spanking, sooooo many pussy slaps (don’t look at us), pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my love @joelscurls, who unfortunately couldn’t write this entire chapter the way we had originally planned, so you’re stuck with me again. if you notice that some parts are better written than others, those are most likely hers haha <3 this is lowkey my favorite thing that i’ve ever put out, and i hope you like it as much as i do 🤍

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

The phone feels like a paperweight in your hand. It’s late — you should be sleeping, but you know it’s useless to even attempt shutting your eyes. It’s too loud in your head right now — that promise of just one time blaring: a warning. Still, you can’t help but consider ignoring it, texting David and begging to see him again.

It’s probably a bit pathetic, yearning for a man who made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you beyond a one night stand. Daydreaming about the timbre of his voice, the stretch of his cock. Getting his phone number from your father, who’s none the wiser. Your father, who is asleep in his own room just down the hall. Being home for the summer has never felt like such a burden.

Guilt eats at you as your fingers hover over the screen, David’s contact front and center. It would be so easy to send him a text right now, let him know you’re thinking about him. About the other night. But your conscience reins you in. Your father’s face flashes behind your eyes — rage and disappointment painting his features scarlet, and you drop the phone beside you on the mattress with a huff.

It’s difficult to even imagine the inevitable severity of his reaction if he ever found out. He’d probably cut you off, the revelation of you whoring around with his friend — and the possibility of this news getting out, tarnishing your family’s pure reputation — more than enough for him to disown you.

You hate him sometimes. Hate the life he’s forced onto you. You’re not even interested in studying law — not really. You never had a choice, though. It was determined before you even graduated high school that you’d follow in your dad’s footsteps. And as long as he’s funding your studies, your future, you have no right to complain. This is the life you should want. The life everyone wants. He reminds you of that fact regularly. Him, and his countless snooty club buddies.

But David — David is refreshing.

He doesn’t come from old money. He doesn’t pinch your cheeks and talk around you rather than to you, declarations of you must be so proud aimed at your father as you stand awkwardly to the side. You’re pretty sure he’s the first person outside of your professors to really look at you, take interest in anything you have to say in… god knows how long.

You can still feel his eyes boring into you. The subtle but tactful brush of his leg against yours under the table. The exhilaration that had thrummed in your veins. He’d made you feel something. You’d almost forgotten you could feel anything apart from stress and agitation. And as you lay in bed, mind swimming with arousal and impending remorse, you fear you may not be able to control yourself much longer, consequences be damned.

He’s not expecting you to reach out.

Why would you? You’d mutually agreed on that night in his car being a one time thing — just a hookup; something he would’ve done before meeting Carol. Something he should probably be doing more often now. Except you’ve somehow sunk your teeth in him, injected him with a sort of venom.

Because all he can think about is seeing you again.

It’s wrong — beyond wrong. You’re so young; still in college, for christ sake. He never met you before the other night, but he’d been stationed overseas with your father when your mother was pregnant with you. He still remembers reading the letters she’d sent in care packages over his shoulder, the ones detailing her symptoms, what foods she was craving.

Strawberries. She always wanted strawberries. Maybe that’s why you’re so sweet.

He’s never been with a woman like you; never had someone trust him with so much vigor. Your needy little pleas, your vehement obedience, your desperation to take all of him in the driver’s seat of his car — you are nothing short of intoxicating.

Still, he tells himself you’re off limits. Trudges through the days that follow with the thought of you bouncing in his lap fogging his head. Struggles to focus at work and recovers in an increasingly poor manner when called on in meetings.

And then, late on a Friday night, you text him.

He only knows it’s you because you tell him so — your full name flashing across the screen followed by an apology for messaging him so late. You say you’re out with friends, and he’d probably have guessed anyway by the typos littering your sentences.

Seconds after the first, another text comes through:

[1:23am] csnt stop thinking about u. pls see me again i promise i won’t twll anyone

Fuck. Fuck.

His muscles tense; his cock twitches in his boxers. And before he does something stupid, like responds, he sets the phone face down on his bedside table. Stalks off to the bathroom with the intention of taking an icy-cold shower, detoxing himself best he can.

He hasn’t even closed the door yet when he hears it ring.

The rhythmic jingle drones through his studio apartment, and he all but leaps at the noise. Sure enough, it's you, calling him drunk in the middle of the night.

His head swims. He presses ‘answer’ anyway.

“David?” Your voice sounds so sugary-sweet, cloying with innocence. He can hear people in the background, maybe your friends, talking about getting another round of drinks.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” he asks first. You tell him yes; say you're waiting on a rideshare.

He exhales. And even though hearing you is making him dizzy with a fucked up sort of desire, echoes of your pleasured sounds ringing in his ears, he manages to maintain composure when you say, “can I please come over?”

“Don't think that's the best idea,” he mutters. The lack of conviction in his words would likely be painfully obvious if you weren't intoxicated. But you are, and you whine through the receiver at his rejection.

Dave fights to ignore the increasing stiffness in his boxers.

“Please,” you beg. Fuck, he loves the way you sound when you beg. “I just got off the phone with my dad…he doesn't want me coming home so drunk; said he's working on a case and I’ll be a nuisance.”

His heart breaks for you. For the girl who just wants a father who loves her, who sees her as a person with feelings. Dave can't imagine ever treating his daughters this way. Would never dream of it.

“C-can I?” your voice sounds through the speaker again — softer, less sure. Like you've prepared yourself already for the blow of him rejecting you too.

“Can't– can’t you stay with one of your friends?”

You sigh, defeated. “I want to stay with you.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to. God, it would be so easy to say yes. To go and pick you up from the bar himself, bring you back to his place. Help you sober up a bit and fuck you until you can't take it anymore. But he can’t; he shouldn't even be speaking to you right now. He needs to cut this off. Needs to make it clear to you that you can't reach out to him again.

“You– we can’t.” He’s stern, direct. It pains him. “The other night shouldn’t have happened.” True, though he doesn’t regret it. Not one bit.

You’re quiet on the other end of the line for a second too long. When you finally do speak again, your voice breaks.

“You don’t like me?”

He’s going to tell you that of course that’s not it, that he’s been thinking about you constantly, that he wishes he could get you out of his fucking head. But he doesn’t get the chance. Because your friends are laughing boisterously around you, then, sounds growing more and more muffled through the speaker, and you’re telling him rather unceremoniously that you have to go.

The call disconnects with a beep.

You wake the following morning with a dizzying headache, daylight burning a hole between your eyes. With your friend still soundly asleep, you slip out of her room and then her apartment; find yourself home just as your father is getting ready to leave for work.

His travel mug sits on the entrance table as he pulls his shoes on, and you're immediately met with the smells of coffee and his leathery cologne.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he mutters as he grabs his briefcase. You don't dare look him in the eyes, lest you be met with their disapproving stare.

“Hi,” you reply, small and non confrontational. When he doesn't answer, you continue past him, begin your ascent up the stairs toward your room.

“Not very appropriate for a young professional, going out and getting wasted. Your future employer could've been there. Could've seen you acting like an imbecile.”

Annoyance furls behind your temples; makes the pounding in your head grow tenfold.

“Well then they probably won't be my future employer,” you snip.

“Probably not.”

You hear the front door close behind you and, with an agitated sigh, drag your feet the rest of the way up the stairs. You fall onto the covers of your bed, well aware that you should probably shower, but your body feels too heavy, in no way ready to move again just yet.

When you pull out your phone, ready for some mindless scrolling to numb your thoughts for a while, you’re met with a notification that sends your heart racing.

Have fun last night?

From David, sent five minutes ago.

You hastily scroll up, reading your own texts from last night, full of typos and barely coherent. csnt stop thinking about u. Your head falls back with a groan. You had gone out to forget about him, not to drunkenly confess your feelings to him in the middle of the night.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you also vaguely recall speaking to him. You tap on your call log and sure enough, there’s his name, only minutes after you texted him. You have no idea what you might have said to him, only a blurry memory of being upset about something. Great, this is great.

Sighing deeply, you go back to messages.

i was very drunk. sorry for bothering you

His reply comes almost instantly.

Who said you bothered me?

You’ve only met him once, and yet you can picture his smirk as if you’ve seen it a thousand times.

Dave is sipping his coffee, black, no sugar, and listens to Jim going over his plans for the both of them going golfing next weekend, humming occasionally.

It pains him, looking at the man in front of him, while your voice from last night is still ringing through his head. How hurt you sounded, looking for a place to stay, not being welcome in your own home.

When Jim stands up to leave for work, he remains seated, gesturing towards his half eaten bagel, but assuring the other man that he doesn’t have to wait for him.

You still haven’t left his thoughts. If anything, the longing he feels for you has gotten worse since you told him how much you want to see him again. And he’s so tired of denying himself the one thing he really wants.

He’s patient, chipping away at the bagel until he sees your father’s gray Dodge peel out of the parking lot. And then he gives it another 10 minutes, just to be safe.

Come join me for coffee? I’m downtown at Roasted Beans.

You respond moments later — such an obedient little thing, you are — letting him know you’ll be there shortly. He finishes off his drink, discards the cup along with the bagel wrapper, and orders two fresh coffees.

He sees you before you see him. Eyes wide, lips parted ever so slightly, you look so cute as you scan the cafe. You’re wearing a sundress, the blue fabric dancing around your thighs with every turn of your body, and Dave finds himself entranced by you.

You smile when you finally catch sight of him, your entire face lighting up and he smiles back without a second thought.

You shouldn’t meet him again. You really, really shouldn’t. But the conversation with your father this morning keeps replaying in your head, the disapproval weighing heavy on you, the feeling of being unable to do anything right.

You long for someone to look at you without judgment, for the sound of good girl against your skin. You long for David.

After last night and the fact that he obviously didn’t invite you over, you had thought that for him, maybe it really had been a just one time thing. Like you both had agreed on multiple times.

But then he’d texted you again, asking you to meet him. It’s almost embarrassing, how quickly you got ready, eager to see him again, despite knowing better.

On the drive over, you run through countless discussions in your head, trying to decide what you’re going to say to him. You have to be reasonable. There’s too much at stake. David is a mistake that you wouldn’t be able to come back from. You’re just going to meet him because he asked you to, because that’s the nice thing to do. It’ll just be coffee, nothing more.

Your resolve crumbles as soon as you see him. His eyes are already on you, their expression so full of want that it makes you ache. You walk over, feigning confidence as you slide onto the chair next to his, a quiet greeting on your lips. The deep, smooth sound of his voice when he returns it is enough to make you melt.

He has already ordered for you. It’s a small thing, rationally, but it’s once again more care, more attention than you’re used to. Warmth is spreading through your chest, but you try steeling yourself, forcing out the words that you’ve prepared to say.

“Listen, I want to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking straight, I’m sorry for bothering–”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He interrupts your nervous stuttering, his hand gently wrapping around yours on the table. “I already told you that you didn’t bother me. If anything–” He sighs, his grip tightening. “I’m the one who’s sorry, you were looking for somewhere to stay, I shouldn’t have turned you down like that.”

It breaks Dave’s heart, seeing how you’re making yourself smaller, how ready you seem for him to scold you. Your quiet You don’t like me? still echoes in his mind. How your own father didn’t care where his daughter spent the night, as long as she didn’t come home. Didn’t bother him.

He clocked the way your eyes widened in surprise at the coffee that he got you, how you huff a relieved breath when he assures you again that he’s not annoyed with you. You’re so sweet, so deserving of being loved and cared for, and he so desperately wants to be the person who does that for you.

He felt the same pull from that night towards you as soon as he laid eyes on you again, and it’s only gotten worse, now that you’re right next to him, now that he’s touching the soft surface of your hand. He vividly remembers how your skin felt under his fingertips, how you writhed against him.

The urge to get just a taste of that again becomes overwhelming. He holds your gaze as his fingers start gliding over your thighs under the table, inching towards the hem of your dress. Your lips part, the softest whimper escaping your throat at his touch.

He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t be touching you like this, shouldn’t be thinking about you like this. Can’t stop thinking about you. I want to stay with you. How is he supposed to keep away, to stop himself, when you come to him so willingly, so desperate to be wanted?

“David?” Fuck, he loves that you call him that. “Will you take me home with you? Please?”

He can tell that you’re scared to ask, bracing yourself to be rejected again. He’s not nearly as strong as you think he is.

“Yes. Come on.”

He pulls you to your feet and out of the door before either of you have the chance to change your minds.

He’s a bad man, shouldn’t be getting off on having total control over you like this. He’s probably sick; should see that shrink Carol recommended a couple months ago after the divorce was officially finalized. But the way you’re looking at him — with the same big-eyed, doleful stare you’d given him that first night — tells him you want this. Need this, even. You long to relinquish control to someone other than your hawkish father.

So pliant in his lap, limbs all gooey and relaxed under his touch, it’s clear that you trust him. Maybe more than he trusts himself.

You’re spread out on his couch, clothes hastily discarded as soon as the both of you stumbled over the threshold, already entangled in each other. He’s led you to the living room, the thought of fucking you in his bed, of your presence lingering there, your scent permeating his sheets, the last invisible line that he’s determined not to cross.

He has been toying with your body, collected your wrists in a hold over your head and told you to keep them there while he flicked and tugged on your nipples, sucked marks into your skin while you writhed underneath him.

He’s taking it slow, now that you’re here with him, now that he has the time to thoroughly break you down and put you back together again.

You’re already soaked when he sinks a finger into you, your tight walls clenching around him immediately. You coo up at him — a needy little noise that has his resolve disintegrating in seconds flat — and you look relieved when his hand loosely wraps around your throat.

“Please,” you whisper then, and he tuts.

“You want me to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Then you take what I give you. No begging. Do I make myself clear?”

Another noise — this one smaller, stuck in your throat — and he’s pulling his finger out of you again, lips curling into a cruel smile.

He doesn’t give you any time to prepare before the first slap lands on your already-throbbing clit. You can’t help but shriek. In response, he tightens the grip on your throat slightly. Gives three more stinging smacks in quick succession. Dave almost doesn’t notice when your eyes begin to roll back. He does notice, however, when your hips begin to roll upward, your body chasing his hand.

“Oh, such a good girl you are,” he praises.

Slap.

“You love this, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” you moan, garbled and a little breathless.

Slap.

“Pathetic little girl. Bet you could come just from this, you’re so desperate. Couldn’t you?”

You gasp.

Slap.

“Answer me,” Dave demands. “Or I’ll stop.”

It’s almost comical how quickly you sputter the word yes, eyes desperately pleading with him to keep going. And he’s almost shocked just how badly you needed this. In this moment, any guilt he’d been feeling is replaced with the desperate desire to give you exactly what you crave.

He slaps you again, a little harder this time, and you wail. Your legs are trembling, but you make no move to close them, keeping yourself spread wide open and accessible for him.

He’s throbbing, fighting the urge to sink his cock into your tight heat, but he wants, needs to know how far he can push you. How far you’ll go for him.

You’re dripping onto his cushions and he collects some of your slick with his fingers, rubs them against your clit. Your skin is burning under his fingertips. He teases the oversensitive nub with gentle touches, relishes in the way your eyes are glued to his face, the way your lips are trembling as you’re silently pleading with him.

No words are escaping you, and you’re so good, making him so proud with how you’re following his commands.

He slaps your clit again, and again, and again, until you’re a babbling mess, your throat constricting against his grip and your back arching as you come with a cry. Wetness floods out of you and you’re shuddering in his hold, broken whimpers of his name falling from your lips.

He watches with sick fascination, almost unable to believe that he drove you to this point. How much you enjoy being treated like this. That you’re just as twisted as he is.

When you come down, your arms weakly reach for him and he scoops you up, pulls you into his lap until your face is nuzzled into his neck.

“Good girl,” he coos, gently stroking your hair, “you did so good.”

He gives you a few moments to rest, tracing shapes across your back, until his fingers dip deeper, gliding over your ass and between your spread legs, where you’re still so fucking wet.

You squirm under his touch, needy little sounds traveling up to his ears once more. “Please,” you whisper.

One hand grabs into your hair, pulling your head back until he can see your face. You look wrecked. Pupils blown wide, your eyes wet with tears, but what really gets him is the way you look at him. He had worried, for a second, that he might have been too rough, but there’s only pure trust and longing in your eyes.

“I thought I told you no begging.”

You bite your lip, furrow your brow in that adorable way of yours. “I’m sorry. It just– it all feels so good.”

He presses his thumb down on your bottom lip, releasing it from your teeth.

“I know it does, sweetheart. You need more?”

You nod quietly, your eyes wide and pleading.

“Alright then.” He turns you over so quickly that you gasp, scrambling for a second to get your bearings. You’re on all fours, your legs still spread, your ass on display for him.

He had wanted to prepare you a little more, to give you several of his fingers first before he stretches you out on his cock, but he can’t possibly hold back any longer. Judging from the loud moan that you let out, he thinks that you like the sting of him sinking into you unprepared.

It’s even better than he remembers, your slick walls engulfing him so tightly. He starts pounding into you, the depth of his thrusts jolting your body forward and forcing more sounds from you.

He wants you to still feel him tomorrow, wants you to remember him, wants to stake a claim that he knows he doesn’t have. He groans your name, his fingers digging into your hips, greedy for every part of you that he can reach.

Perfect, you’re so fucking perfect, giving yourself to him like this.

“Come on,” he growls, reaching down to find your clit again, rubbing in tight circles. “Give me another one.”

You cry out, pushing back against him. So fucking eager. He lands two quick slaps on your ass and you fall apart, trembling wildly as your walls pulse around him and you scream out his name.

He can’t hold himself back any more and follows you over the edge, pumping into you once more and holding your hips pressed against his.

You both collapse down onto his couch, a mess of tangled, sweaty limbs and quick breaths. You curl your body into his and he presses kisses against your cheeks, your temples, your lips.

Slowly, as he’s coming back to his senses, the guilt settles in.

He lets go of you much too quickly, stands up and starts getting dressed quietly. You watch him for a moment, wracking your mind for something to say, before he looks at you.

“Get dressed. I’ll drive you home.”

He sounds cold, distant. So different from the man who just took you to heights that you didn’t know existed until now. You suppress a shiver and get up hastily. Suddenly, being naked around him feels much too exposed, too vulnerable for your liking.

You pull your dress over your head and slide your shoes back on, but one crucial item is missing.

“Did– did you see my underwear?” you force yourself to ask. He shakes his head, not gracing you with a verbal answer.

Eventually, you give up the search and follow him down the stairs and into his car. The silence grows, until its weight is pressing down, almost suffocating you. You steal glances at him, but his eyes are fixed on the road, staring straight ahead, never wavering. A muscle in his jaw is ticking.

The mix of his spend and yours is pooling between your legs, but it makes you feel dirty now. You force down the lump that’s building in your throat.

When he stops in front of your house, you scramble out of the car without a word. You don’t know what would be worse, if he said goodbye like nothing was wrong or if he remained silent. You don’t want to find out.

It’s late in the evening, you’re lying on your bed, eyelids squeezed shut, willing sleep to finally overtake you. Thoughts keep spiraling through your head, so many questions that you have no answers to.

He asked you to meet up, for fuck’s sake. You don’t understand why he’s treating you like this, but you’re determined to not let it happen again. Just two times, you think with a bitter scoff.

Your phone vibrates on your bedside table, indicating a new message.

[11:55pm] I can’t stop thinking about you either.

Attached is a photo. A photo of a familiar lacy scrap of fabric, grasped in his hand and covered in milky white cum.

It’s filthy, and wrong, and you feel yourself getting obscenely wet at the thought of him touching himself with your missing panties clutched between his fingers.

Maybe just one more time.

thank you for reading 🤍 if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending an ask, it truly makes my day every single time!

#janas fics #fic: wildest dreams #dave york x reader #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedrostories

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itwasntimethatdidit40 · 23 hours ago

Text

Hi there!

This is all I read this month, listed more or less in chronological order. I loved all those fics, read new authors and I was so thrilled about it, found familiar comfort in someone else, tried my best to keep this various and not only Joel Miller (I read a lot of Dieter this month and I never do that sooo. Also welcome in my dreams, Clint Flood, it's been amazing to meet you), as usual I'm still far behind in my tbr. *cries in Italian* Some fics are from my challenge, I listed them here as well because I loved everyone's dedication and I loved those stories. Read warnings and tags and if something is not for you just skip it, it’s simple and it can be done just by scrolling. I'm not responsible for the kind of content you choose to consume, only you are. If you're a minor, just stay away from my blog and this list. Please make sure to give love and appreciation to these authors, they're out there writing and delivering all these amazing stories for free! Reblog, comment, make some noise! Delicacies under the cut, bon appétit!

All my previous recs can be found here.

Edited because I’ve lost a couple of things around 🥲

❥ I feel you - @80ssong no outbreak Joel x female inexperienced reader

❥ The payout - @yxtkiwiyxt I Series Masterlist Clint (Freaky Tales) x f!reader Clint, a retired “tough guy” for hire, gets lured back into the game with a lucrative job offer: one last job for a life-changing payout. $5 million dollars. However, his plans take a twist when he meets you—his new neighbor who makes him question… everything.

❥ She’s a rainbow - @milla-frenchy Joel Miller x f!reader Joel returns after a long patrol and you greet him with a surprise

❥ Due - @cas-readsandwrites

Un named Pedro boy x f!reader

You're dancing with a handsome young man - and you shouldn't be. But is it really what it looks like?

❥ Safety Net part 1 - @gothcsz and @ovaryacted | Series Masterlist Sugar Daddy!Marcus Acacius x BIWOC!Sugar Baby!Reader Marcus Acacius finds more than what he expected on a sugar dating app.

❥ Communication breakdown - @cuppajoel Clint (Freaky Tales) x F!reader

❥ Say Ahh - @mushgloomz // Dead Dove Do Not Eat dentist!dave york x patient!reader (gender neutral)

❥ Did you miss me? - @yxtkiwiyxt Clint Flood x f!reader Clint returns after a week away for work, and you're fucking pissed because he didn't bother to call you even once. But now, all he wants is to be close to you, and he's got that irresistible way of turning things around and getting back in your good graces…

❥ Clint gets cock worshipped - @almostempty Clint Flood x f!reader

❥ Got muscle? - @clubsoft Clint Flood x f!reader clint looks good in his old t - shirt , too good .

❥ Cherry lips - @aurorawritestoescape Clint Flood x f!reader Clint and you have a simple relationship - you fuck each other and go on with your lives. Can it stay that way? What if one night changes everything?

❥ Distraction - @baronessvonglitter Dave York x f!reader You and Dave are finding it hard to forget that one night.. and a chance encounter gives you both a second opportunity..

❥ You oughta know - @milla-frenchy Clint Flood x f!reader after your ex breaks your heart yet again, you ask your dad’s best friend for a favour

❥ Without chains - @604to647

Pero Tovar x Chinese Fem!OC Reader

You help Pero shave in preparation for his journey back West with William.

❥ You ain't falling asleep again - @myownwholewildworld an old man!Joel Miller Drabble

❥ Sunrise - @tateypots Joel Miller x f!reader You love the sunrise, but it’s even better with Joel.

❥ Poison either way - @guiltyasdave Dave York x f!reader x Javier Peña Agent Peña walks in on you and Dave taking a bit of an... unusual break.

❥ Friend zone - @milla-frenchy Tim Rockford x fem!reader an event leads your best friend to reveal a secret he's been keeping from you for years, and you finally find what you've been searching for

❥ Stretched - @mandaloriankait Reed Richards x reader

❥ Little showgirl - @604to647 Modern AU Marcus Acacius x f!reader You do your roommate a favour that lands you in hot water with the head of security at Caesar’s Palace.

❥ Star-crossed - @baronessvonglitter Dieter Bravo x gn!reader On a shoot in Italy, Dieter has one of the worst weeks of his life. Perhaps one unselfish act can turn all that around..

❥ Cerchiamo insieme tutto il bello della vita (Let's look together for all the beauty that there is in life) - @maroonpascal Javi Gutiérrez x f!reader it’s summer and as every year it is time for your annual trip with your best friend, not knowing that this time you will come back home with a lover

❥ Coraline - @tateypots Protective Frankie Morales x wife f!reader

❥ For emergencies only - @myownwholewildworld oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance.

❥ In this world of heroes - @joelalorian Marcus Moreno x f!reader Amid a brutal battle in Florence, Marcus Moreno realizes his heart belongs to you, a fellow Heroic. After the fight, he finally tells you the truth he's kept hidden for far too long.

❥ Chupa mi verga- not his - @stitch-away // tw:stepcest Javier Peña x male reader x Joel Miller the miller's have invited you over for one of their neighbourhood barbeques. old man miller is a flirt and your abuelo hates it

Hungry man (Chapter 2 - God the animal ) - @slimybeth69 dark&sneaky!Joel x unhinged&crazy!reader “…made me think about what it would be like if God the animal bit me with his razor-sharp fangs. God has huge poisonous fangs and he loves to bite people who follow the rules. If you follow the rules, God's going to kill you with his long teeth ; and I love knowing that.”

❥ Lunch in an elevator - Where Marcus met Cat // Part 2 of "The Assistant From Hell" - @baronessvonglitter the story of how Marcus met Cat

❥ Stumbling - @nonbinairyboi Francisco “Catfish” Morales x disabled!afab reader Frankie’s support is necessary when your symptoms flare.

❥ Starstruck - @clubsoft Dieter Bravo x bipoc!F!reader dieter eats his co-star in a field .

❥ I think of you all the time Part 1 and Part 2 - @schnarfer // Series Masterlist Young Dieter Bravo X f!reader Best friends to lovers, to worse.

❥ D X C - @whocaresstillthelouvre Bodyguard Clint Flood x Dieter Bravo x female reader Clint walks in on you and Dieter in a particular situation and decides to join in.

❥ Paying off the debt - @baronessvonglitter Joel x fem!plus size!reader x Clint when your husband doesn't pay his debt, the two men coming to collect decide on a different form of payment

❥ In need of a top up - @tateypots //tw: lactation kink No outbreak!Joel Miller x wife!reader It's Joel's turn for a top up so you pay him a visit at work.

#V April recs #pedro pascal #joel miller #dieter bravo #javier peña #marcus acacius #marcus moreno #clint flood #frankie morales #tim rockford #dave york #javi gutierrez #pero tovar #reed richards #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu

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foli-vora · 2 years ago

Note

Congrats on 3k, lovely!!!!

Can I have “you know where to find me.” with Dave York?

Pls turn my pelvis into dust. Your Dave is AMAZING.

My love. Thank you for your never ending support and love. I am honoured you enjoy my Dave! I apologise for the delay, and I hope you enjoy! ❤️

A sidenote: Yes, I'm slowly making my way through these requests. Yes, they are incredibly late. Yes, we're ignoring the fact I'm well over 3k now LMAO.

your taste i crave

dave york x f!reader

word count: 1.3k warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY. semi public sex/workplace sex, rough unprotected p in v, brief talk of choking, vague descriptions of toy use, use of tie as a gag, creampie, oral sex (f), cum eating, a brief thigh nibble, dave's messy idc

The edge of the copier is harsh where it digs into your stomach, but you can’t find it in you to care—not when he’s moving like this, not when his hands are locked on your hips, keeping you at his complete mercy as he takes what he wants.

He’s so fucking rough, and if you didn’t have the tight pull of his work tie around your mouth and making words practically impossible, you’re absolutely positive you’d be begging him for more.

You don’t think it will ever be enough.

Instead, all that falls from your parted, restrained lips are muffled whines and broken moans when he hits that spot that’s almost too far. It sends a jolt of pain through your system, rocketing up your spine and bringing your body harder against the machine in an effort to escape the intense sensation, but it’s quickly replaced with more heat, more need.

He merely drags you back against him each and every time, his neatly trimmed nails pressing indents into the fleshy skin of your waist as he moves behind you with tightly restrained grunts, the slap of his hips meeting your ass echoing in the small copy room.

Despite the time of day, with most of the office having enough and retreating home, there’s not much time left.

Beyond the dizzying, overwhelming feel of him rutting into you without abandon; cock so fucking solid, so goddamn thick; and bringing a flood of tears to your lash line, you know it can’t last—not like it usually does.

He’d still want to go back to work—most likely for the rest of the evening, the strict borderline obsession with his career rendering him unable to leave the mountains of work flooding his desk.

So there’s no room for build up here. No time for teasing. No long, blissful drawn out torture of him bringing you to the edge only to stop at its peak again and again.

This is about release. This is about working and relieving the tension that had been slowly building across his broad shoulders with every bullshit thing that had happened today and granting him a clearer head for the hours left at the office. This is about him, and you’re only too happy to oblige.

“Might—fuck… might have to–to make this a regular work thing,” he grits out, hand curling around the back of your blouse and tugging roughly at it until your back is pressing against his chest.

The silk collar of it cuts into the soft flesh of your throat, and you want to ask for more.

Maybe his hand? His long thick fingers curling around the width of it and giving it that perfect squeeze that borders on too much but is always just enough.

Maybe his belt? The worn, cared for leather smooth against your skin as it tightens and tightens, slowly pushing your lungs to the max until you’re weeping from the irresistible assault of sensations.

The gag wound tight around your mouth makes it impossible to get the words out, and his mouth latches onto the curve of your shoulder, nipping and biting at the skin until it feels raw. You stretch out for more, his lips soon running hungrily along the expanse of your throat.

Close.

He’s getting close.

You know it, you can feel it.

You can feel it in the way his already bruising grip tightens just that little more. You can feel it in the way his breath starts to catch where it ghosts your skin, sticking in his throat and coming out in shorter pants as he chases the promise of that sweet, sweet high.

You can’t speak, can’t utter a single fucking word to coax him along. You can’t beg for him to keep going, to finish right where he is and fill you to the fucking brim so you can take a part of him home.

He goes wild for your shaky home videos, the smooth finish of your vibrator glistening with the remnants of his cum sliding down the silicon as you fuck yourself with his name on your lips in the cosy comfort of your bedroom.

A mantra of his name fills your mind.

Dave, Dave, Dave.

You want him to hear it, you want him to know that it’s only him that could do this, only him that could use you like this. You love it, crave it.

That familiar tingle runs along your spine in anticipation, your body aching for just that little bit more, your clit throbbing in need of desperate attention to get you just over that line right alongside him—

The groan that falls from his throat is utter filth, hoarse and throaty, and one of your favourite fucking sounds he makes. He slams his hips upwards one more time, forcing the head of his cock right up against your soft cervix as he starts to cum, and you’re left to do nothing but whine into the now damp material of his tie, barely aware of the tear that leaks from the corner of your eye.

He takes a long moment to recover, sweat slicked face hidden in your shoulder as his chest heaves against your back. The tie loosens from around your mouth and falls to rest at the base of your throat, leaving a mess of saliva coating your lips and chin which you try to wipe away as cleanly as possible with the back of your hand.

Too soon, he starts to pull away, guiding his softening cock from your tender, weeping cunt with a low hiss of ‘fuck’ before you hear the rustle of his slacks and the smooth pull of his zipper.

You take that as your silent cue, twisting and bending as well as you could on shaky legs to retrieve the damp panties still tangled around your ankles and attempt to drag them back up into place.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asks gruffly, tugging the thin lace out from your fingers and letting them drop to your feet once more. “Who said I was finished with you?”

“But—”

There’s no time to argue.

He works quickly, dropping to his knees and gripping the underside of your ass enough to spread you open before pressing forward eagerly. The thick, firm feel of his tongue swipes through the mess he had made, forcing its way along your wet folds before pushing into your throbbing cunt.

You manage to smother the yelp of surprise with a quick slap of your hand over your mouth, half wishing he had left the gag in place if he wasn’t done with you. Maybe he’s trying to test you, or maybe he just doesn’t give a shit about being quiet anymore.

God, it’s risky.

It’s so fucking risky, it’s so fucking good—

He holds you tightly, winding an arm around the front of you to pull you harder against his face as he practically devours you from behind, eagerly coaxing more of his cum and your arousal into his mouth with feral curls and flicks of his tongue.

Your knees threaten to give out when he finally moves away from your entrance and finds your clit, smoothing over the swollen nerve with alternating quick, light flutters and firm, wide rolls. He falls into his pace easily, rekindling the heat in the pit of your stomach in a way only he knows how and you’re desperate to find something to anchor yourself with.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe brokenly, hands clutching the machine for life and eyes rolling with the fresh waves of pleasure as you can’t help but start to rock back against his face, focusing on the feel of his slick tongue sliding back and forward over your previously neglected clit, “maybe we could make this a… a r-regular work thing.”

He hums into you, breaking away with an obscene wet smack of his lips before nipping at the inside of your thigh playfully.

“You know where to find me, pretty girl. Bend over, give it to me.”

tags: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld

#foli's 3k #dave york x reader #dave york x f!reader #dave york x you #dave york #pedro pascal x reader

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beefrobeefcal · 1 year ago

Text

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Dave York one shot

Dave York & Kitten: Make Me, Yorkie

Pairing: Dave York x Fem!Reader (Kitten) Summary: Dave get more than he bargains for with a playful Kitten. Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI) Word Count: 2,821 Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, swearing, snack cake eating, belly stuffing, naughty Kitten business, fingering, spanking, brat taming, domestic dom/sub dynamic, p in the v, chubby teasing, light degradation, implied consent, established relationship

Author's Notes: I promised a Dave-&-Kitten-Cookie fic way back in 2023 (okay, it was only a few weeks ago), and while there aren't Christmas cookies, Dave does has his fill. This started out as a Frankie & Mouse one shot, but I felt Dave energy trying to come out. Thank you to @softpascalito & @umnitsa for beta'ing the first draft. Thank you to @neverwheremoonchild for beta'ing the final draft. This is dedicated to our resident Dave York apologist, @theywhowriteandknowthings - beef 💜 knowy

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

“Oh Dave… do you know where all the cookies went for the neighbourhood bake sale?”, you cooed, reaching forward from your seat at the kitchen table and poking his belly. “Oof baby… look at how big you’re getting.”

*****

Dave was in a bad mood. He’d had a terrible day at work, and he’d come home to an empty house with unlabeled – and unsupervised – cookies in the pantry.

You’d spent most of the day baking and prepping for the neighborhood bake sale, waiting patiently for him to get home, only to receive a text halfway through the afternoon, stating that he was having “the shittiest day”. You knew he didn’t send texts like these lightly, and you braced yourself, purposely putting aside a dozen or so cookies in the pantry for him as a treat. But by the time you’d returned from dropping off your baked contributions at the neighbour’s house, you walked in to see Dave with his dress shirt pulled unreasonably tight across his now full belly with his belt undone.

While Dave was trying to behave and resist treating himself regularly in the pantry, you knew he wasn’t winning that battle, given that his middle had filled out enough that it was more than the softer middle you’d grown accustom to that would become a little more when he ate; Dave now had a belly that was apparent whether he’d eaten or not and you’d only just recently sized up his wardrobe over Christmas because of it.

With a sly glint in your eye, you made the decision to have some fun tonight.

You gave him several chances to admit he ate the cookies, but he didn’t budge. So, because you were playing dumb to his refusal to come clean, you dutifully served him a full, hearty dinner. The whole time he shoveled food into his face, you teased him, getting in the odd tummy poke here and bratty remark there.

Dave let out a huff in response, trying to ignore you as he sat next to you, scrolling through his phone. Standing up, you leaned over his shoulder from behind him and kissed his neck.

“You’re gonna need some new clothes again soon. Been eating too well lately and it shows”, you grinned against his skin, smoothing your hands over his middle, curling a finger into one of the puckered openings between his shirt buttons. “Look at your poor shirt!”

“Knock it off, Kitten.”, he grunted, shrugging you off him before bringing his closed fist to his mouth to stifle a burp.

His refusal to play with you left you feeling a little hurt, but it mainly left you feeling pent up and needy for his attention. And the thought of him being too full to deal with you acting up made you squeeze your thighs together as you watched him hold his aching belly as he walked out to the den.

Dave sat back heavily on the couch, almost painfully full. And now, on top of his frustration over work, he was uncomfortable and bloated after eating his whole dinner to not look like the guilty party, trying to stifle belly-shifting hiccups. He thought he’d get some peace once he was on the couch, but he then let out an irritated sigh when he heard you making your way to the den.

“Dave?”, you called out in a singsong voice.

“Jesus Christ…”, he muttered under his breath, rubbing his face.

“Dave baby?”

“Not now!”, he snapped, not looking away from the tv.

You walked around in front of him, blocking his view of the tv, and you smiled mischievously at him. He gave you a glare with a tight mouth and shook his head.

“So you’re meaning to be a pain in the ass, aren’t you?”

“You’re being cranky… didn’t even give me a kiss when you got home.”

“I’m not doing this with you, Kitten. I’m-“

“Ma’am.”, you corrected him, challenging him for control.

“No…”, he warned, his eyes boring into you and his mouth pulled tight into a scowl.

“Excuse me?”

Your harsh snap back at him caught him off guard.

“You’re really asking for it. Do not make me get up off this couch.”

“David… you’re not getting off that couch any time soon.”, you purred, moving slowly towards him. Your head nodded towards his bloated middle. “What you got in there?”

He rolled his eyes, not taking the bait. “You fucking know what it is! You made it and served it to me!”

He shifted in his seat and winced, hand going to his belly.

“Awe, Dave got greedy and now he’s got a tummy ache.”, you cooed in a mock-pout. You stood above him and smirked. “Look at you. How much weight do you think you’ve put on in the last month? You really treated yourself over Christmas… Just bought you that shirt and it’s already getting too small, honey.”

His brown eyes looked like molten copper from the rage you incited; you were really hitting his buttons and it only made you bolder.

“Do not do this, Kitten. I am not playing. I had a shitty day, and-“

“Did you enjoy all those cookies? It looks like you did…”, you interrupted in a soft, smug voice, nodding your head to his middle.

“Last warning.”, he growled.

“You’re too fat and full to do anything about it.”

“Knock. It. Off.”, he snarled through his clenched teeth. “Behave! I fucking mean it!”

A grin spread across your face, and you licked your lips.

“Make me, Yorkie.”

“Oh, you fucking brat! You’re gonna get it.”

His harsh tone mixed with huffing and grunting to stand up made your knees feel weak, and you backed away. When Dave stood, his heavy middle made him lose his balance and he fell back onto the couch with a grunt. The force caused a few of his buttons to pop open on his shirt and you covered your mouth to hold back your giggles.

“Getting pretty big, Yorkie.”

He raised a warning eyebrow and pointed at you. “Hey!”

You couldn’t help it. The flames in his eyes were addicting and you needed more. “Like I said before, you’re eating too well … you filled out and now you’re just getting fat…”

His breath hitching and his pupils dilating didn’t go unnoticed by you, and it emboldened you further. You stood your ground and didn’t move towards him yet, knowing that he’d take any chance to grab you and set you right back in place if you got too close.

“Think your coworkers notice all the weight you’ve put on? Think they talk about how heavy you’re getting? Think they notice how you’re growing, making your clothes pull tight?”

His breathing had picked up as his hand moved across his underbelly and palmed his crotch, trying to adjust his too-tight pants over his erection.

“Fuck…”, he panted through gritted teeth. “I outta fuck that mouth to get rid of that attitude.”

“Like to see you try… too full and fat now to even get off the couch.”

That seemed to be the ignition for him. He let out a grunt and hoisted his large frame up from the couch. You felt your cunt clench at watching him and you began to breath shallowly through your mouth.

His eyes were dark and ripped right through you, and you swallowed thickly, managing to whimper out, “Dave? … baby?”

It only took him a few quick steps and he was towering over you.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out. You could feel your core drooling and Dave watched your eyes glaze over as they stared up at him.

“What was it you said? I’m ’too fat and full to get off the couch’? Didn’t get that right?”

You didn’t know Dave could move that fast. Before you could answer, he grabbed your arm and pulled you towards him. He fell back to his spot on the couch, pulling you down with him. You had no idea how you ended up across his lap as he sat back on the couch, his large hand shoving your dress up over your ass.

“Fucking brat. All I want is a quiet night on the couch after a shitty fucking day and you’re just doing the most to piss me off.”, he growled.

You squirmed on his lap, his belly pressing heavily against your side. He shoved his hand between your legs, and you whined.

“I fucking knew it! You’re soaked. This pussy’s just begging to take a beating, isn’t it?”, he snarled, pressing harsh circles against your clothed clit. “You get off on making me mad, Kitten?”

“Fuck! Dave! Please!”

“Please what? You got my attention now, Kitten. You can’t handle it? What else d’you want from me?”

You yelped when you felt a sharp sting on your backside. You turned and looked at him, shock written all over your face.

“David! Did you just fucking spank me?”

“I asked you a question.”, he said sternly.

“I thought you were just gonna finger me and-“

Despite the scowl planted on his face, the look in his eyes was begging for this. You gave him a small nod in agreement. Another sharp sting from his palm landing on your ass.

“I said I asked you a question.”

When you yelped out at the last smack, he smoothed his palm over your reddened skin, his tone shifting low and menacing.

“Come on, baby… you got my attention… now be a good girl and answer my question. What else do you want from me, kitten?”

And there it was. He was finally in the ring, towering over you and ready to spar. It lit your insides on fire and your core throbbed. You let out a staggered breath and croaked out, “Just… just want… you… your attention… don’t wanna be ignored.”

“My baby’s feeling ignored, huh? Probably because she’s being a little shit and not behaving…”

“I tried!”, you whimpered. “I made cookies and had some saved just for you! I… I just wanted-“

His hand guiding your leg off his lap, opening your clothed core to him. He cupped your mound in his hand, massaging it gently. It stopped you from finishing your sentence and you whimpered instead.

“Go on, Kitten…”

“I just wanted to make you- ugh!”

“I thought I was being pretty clear that tonight was not a good night for your bratty bullshit. Yeah, you made a good dinner, but your attitude is way out of line. Trying to make me feel bad about how much I enjoy your cooking and baking. S’not nice, baby...”

“I-I’m sorry!”, you whined in response.

He spanked you a few more times, the final one coming down a little harder. Each one forced a yelp from you between panting breaths and you rutting your hips on nothing. His cock was hardening under you, pushing against your hip.

You suddenly felt your panties pull harshly against your hipbones then snap off, and Dave tossed them to the side. His middle and index finger dove into your folds.

“So fucking wet… Jesus, Kitten… you’re a needy fucking brat…”

You wriggled your hips, begging for more friction against his fingers.

“Such a bad girl… getting me fat and thinking I’m slow… feeding me till I’m too fucking stuffed to get off the couch? Then you give me attitude about how big you made me?”

His tone was slipping into his usual ‘dominant’ voice, and it was almost too much mixed with his adept fingers and the soreness of your backside.

“I know you just love it… thinking you’re in control when you heap plate after plate in front of me… thinking you can feed me until I’m pliant and yours to fuck around with… no such luck, baby.”

He pushed two fingers into your weeping hole and began to pound into you relentlessly. Your back arched as you cried out.

“Yeah, baby… this is what you needed, isn’t it.”, Dave snarled through his clenched jaw, continuing his relentless pace. You could feel that the bulge from before was now almost painfully digging into your hip bone – the fact he was enjoying this so much made you love it even more. You let out panting moans as your walls began to clench on his digits.

“Oh god-fuck!… I’m-oh fuck!”

He ripped his hand away from you and another spank landed on your backside, stinging further from his wet-with-your-slick hand. You cried out and buried your tear-streaked face into the arm rest.

“You gonna behave?”, he barked as he pulled your hair back, forcing you to look at him.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll behave!”, you cried out. “Please Dave!”

“You done being a brat?”

“Yes! Fuck, yes, I am!”

“Stand up.”

You shakily pushed yourself up off his lap, and his hands came to steady you. You looked at him, your cheeks flushed and damp, lips pouted, and you sucked in a small sob.

“There’s my kitten.”, he smiled menacingly, looking you over and the mess he’d made of you. “So fucking desperate. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me and let me come!”, you huffed back. God, you wanted him to keep this up.

“Mind your manners!”

His voice was dark and his eyes even darker as he drank you in. Fuck, you needed him in the worst way. His hand came up and gently touched your chin before his hand went around your neck, pushing your back against the wall. His other hand went to his belt, unsuccessfully trying to undo it to get his pants off. His intensity in his eyes started to melt, giving way to desperation.

“Dammit!”, he grunted, removing his other hand from your throat and you moved forward to help.

“No baby… please… fuck, just stay there… j-just act like you’re pinned…”, Dave pleaded, eyes wide and screaming with arousal as he tried sucking in his belly.

You did as you were told, keeping yourself against the wall, watching as he fumbled with his pants, finally getting them down around his thick thighs, his boxer-briefs barely containing his rock hard, leaking cock. His hand went right back to your throat, and he mashed his face into yours in a fevered kiss. He kept your mouth locked onto his as he pulled you away from the wall, only breaking to turn you around and push you over one of the large standing speakers that framed the TV. Without warning, Dave spat into his hand and freed his cock, pumped it a few times, then ran the head through your folds. He finally pushed into you, making you keen and grip the speaker.

“Fuuuuuck…”, he breathed as he seated himself deep within you. “God dammit…”, he hissed as he began pounding into you. “I needed this, baby.”

“Oh god- Dave! So big… fuck!”

“Good girl… come on, Kitten… come for me…”, he grunted. “Touch your clit, baby… play with it… not-not gonna last long…”

“Da-David…”, you whined, as your fingers rubbed circles on your nub, thrusting you just enough to fall over the edge. You panted erratically as your long-time-coming release ripped through you, making your walls clench and spasm around him.

He let out a groan. “Good girl… good fucking girl…” and kept pounding into you. He was beginning to falter in his pace, and his breaths were coming out in short, hurried pants. He pulled back from you, jerking his cock, and came on your reddened ass cheeks.

You were slumped over the speaker, breathing hard, when you heard Dave fall back onto the couch, making it groan and creak under his sudden weight.

“Hey… baby?”, he panted. “You good, Kitten?”

You pushed yourself upright, feeling your dress sticking to his release on your backside.

“You dick.”

He looked up at you with a raised eyebrow in warning. “Excuse me?”

“You spanked me and came on my ass!”

“Yeah? And where did it get me? Panting and fat on a couch… you still got an attitude.”, he huffed out in a laugh.

“Guess you’ll have to try harder next time.”

You tried keeping an angry front, but failed as you sat down on his lap, smearing his spend on his bare thighs. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to him as you fell into a fit of giggles.

“Fuck, if I try any harder, I’ll pop a seam or come in my pants.”

You grinned and then giggled again, “Please, Dave - try harder!”

He laughed and pressed a kiss you your forehead. “You’re such a shit. Behave!”

“Make me, Yorkie.”

TAGLIST: @theywhowriteandknowthings @harryleatherfit @toxicanonymity @harriedandharassed @neverwheremoonchild @rebel-held @beee-haw @nevergoingbacknowshine @idolatrybarbie @v4vayha @lalocitos @xdaddysprincessxx @deathsholywaterr @heareball @lyssramscal @wintrwinchestr @blackfemalenerd @southernbe @starkeydaviss @noxturnalpascal@not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @vabeachazn @clawdee @iamasaddie @tightjeansjavi

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal tummy #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby!dave york #chubby dave rights !!!#you asked beefro answered #you ask beefro answers #thot tank #beefro's bistro #🥩

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