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#dave york equalizer
drewharrisonwriter · 23 days
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One Day at a Time (Series Masterlist)
Status: Complete.
Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader
Word Count: 28.9k
Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.
Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!
Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊
Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist
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💜 Lifeline 💜 A New Life 💜 A Busy Day 💜 Normal 💜 Late Night Cravings 💜 Reunion 💜 Life As It Was 💜 Family Man 💜 Farmer's Market 💜 One Last Time 💜 Rescue 💜 One Day at a Time
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taeslarityy · 1 month
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dirty laundry ༄ dave york one shot (18+)
-> pairing: dark dave york x female reader
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-> word count: 2.8k
-> summary: it’s a hot august week at the york’s lake house, which also happens to be the week you and your husband got married one year ago. your father in law — dave york — finds you changing in the laundry room and decides to give you a celebration of his own.
-> warnings/tags: father-in-law dave york, infidelity, dubcon, NON-CON, age gap (reader is 21, dave is nearing 50), SMUT 18+, heavy degradation(whore, slut, bitch), humiliation, dumbification, unprotected piv, sir kink, rough face-fucking, forced creampie, talk of pregnancy, reader is under the impression that she endures forced impregnation, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, semi naive reader, dave is not a cutesy nice man in this.. he honestly has no concern for readers feelings or pleasure. so please, if themes like dubious consent + non-con + blatant cheating are not ur forte, protect ur peace and scroll away!!
-> a/n: okay okay hiiiii. when i decided to participate in @hellishjoel ‘s #hotdilfsummerchallenge, i had a few ideas in mind. one happened to be this! but i felt more comfortable writing for joel and was confident in what i had planned. basically, this is opposite of that. no fluff or happy ending.. or even happy anything. so i wanted to share! thanks again kylee for letting me participate <3 and thank you to my beloved dearest @sweetpascal for aiding me yet again, i love u 🤍
let me know your thoughts!
DARK CONTENT BELOW: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.
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A huge part of growth, means acknowledging your mistakes.
When you failed your first semester of college, you knew it was from lack of trying and partying six days a week. So, you studied more and partied four days a week instead. When you slammed your brand new Mercedes into a flag pole, you knew it was from scrolling on Instagram which caused you to push accelerate rather than stop. So, you never went on your phone while driving again.
When you fell in love your sophomore year and decided to get married at twenty, you knew it was because you needed the well-off grad school bachelor, Daniel York. So, inadvertently, you settled. Now, a year later, you're sobbing in his family’s lake house bathroom because he somehow forgot that tonight was the eve of your wedding anniversary.
You feel like a complete and utter idiot. And for once in your life, you just might be. Staring at your reflection, you examine your appearance. You look effortlessly amazing today, after spending the day out on the boat. Hair, body and face all faintly sun-kissed. Your skin freshly shaved, legs and arms lathered in your favorite oil.
This was your final attempt to see if Daniel would stare at you with the same look of admiration he had so long ago. Your first attempt to ask him about starting your own family. Tonight was the night, and you were determined.
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Briefly peeking out of the guest bathroom and down the hall, you decide you can rush into the laundry room only a few doors down. Everyone should seemly be downstairs, finishing up a game of Monopoly. You had the pleasure of winning two games in a row, pissing of the frightfully competitive York family. That’s when you decided to call it a night and head up to get ready for bed — bidding everyone a goodbye as you kissed your husband atop his head.
Wrapping your robe securely around your waist, you make your way towards the closed door and enter just as the dryer sings the most obnoxious 45 second tune that confirms the load is finished. Rich people shit, you mutter to yourself. Grabbing your bikini and sundress to hang up first, then laying out a sheer white silk sleeping dress with baby blue lace trim.
Looking back at the closed door, you conclude you should be fine to just throw it on before laying yourself out on your shared bed. Ready for your husband to see you so open and willing to be used by him. As your robe falls to your feet, a slight creek fills the silent space.
Whipping your head back and grabbing the nearest towel to cover yourself, you're met with an alluring glare from your husbands own dad. Your father-in-law, Dave York.
"Dave wha- what are you doing?" You question with a panic laced tone. Completely thrown off by the way he's leaning against the now locked door, hands in his wrinkle-free perfectly fitted black work slacks. His lack of response is louder than the faint trickle from the utility sink your bare-ass is pressed against.
Dave saunters over to you, his pristinely polished shoes clinking heavily with every step despite the minimal weight he's using. It's a commanding presence, shows how he doesn't have to storm over to establish authority. His handsome body towers over you and the faint hairs on your spine rapidly rise at the feeling of his warmth nearing your own naked body. Aside from the small washcloth that covers your crotch and arm across your heavy tits.
His veiny calloused wedding ring-wearing hand reaches next to you, finding the lace on your nightgown satisfyingly soft.
"Look at this, angel. Did you plan on wearing it for my inconsiderate son?" He remarks, looking into your wide eyes as his fingers continue to twist and feel at a piece of clothing that is filling you with an overbearing amount of embarrassment.
"I d- you weren't supposed to see that." The nervous confession brings a crooked grin to Dave's face.
"It's real pretty, just like you. Sexy even.... but I wouldn't waste my time putting something like this on for Daniel." Shaking his head at your frazzled state and utilizing that dismissive tone he does so well.
"W-why?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance at your innocent unknowing voice, Dave reaches a hand to slowly move your arm that's covering your plush chest. "Because, he left 10 minutes ago. Waved bye to me as I pulled into the driveway."
Now you're really fucking confused. Your husband never goes off without texting you to let you know, and why would he leave you alone at his parents home? Especially on the night prior to your anniversary.
"I don't understand. Did he tell you where he was going?" You probe at him, not processing the way his rough fingertips are skimming over your navel, up across your chest. Suddenly, you yelp as he pinches your pebbled nipple and grips under your adjacent perky breast. Your hand quickly grabs at his wrist, but he slaps it away — holding it at your waist.
"You really have nothing going on in that head of yours, huh? Just floating around being the perfect little wife for my son, is that right? Too stupid and blind to see that your husband cheats on you every living moment and only married you because you're nothing more than a sweet voice who’s gentle on the eyes." His painful out-of-pocket words paired with the twisting of your nipples has heavy tears brimming at your lashes. "Kind of him to make sure you're gentle on his old mans eyes too.... we always did share a type."
"Fuck you," you spit at him. You've never dared be rude to Dave, or anyone for that matter. But his condescending temper, sudden violations to your privacy paired with the already upsetting feelings you've been enduring today was a breaking point. As you rip your hand from his grasp prepared to rush out of the room, he grabs your throat in a vice grip. Landing a brutal smack on your cheek that causes your head to turn from the impact, just for him to use that same hand to yank your hair back to a straight position. Body now pressed against your own — you feel the washcloth protecting your femininity drop at your bare feet in terror.
"Hmm. Never heard you cuss before, sweetheart. Thought I taught my son to train his wife better than that."
A heavy tear streams down your now red swollen cheek, as you take in the hurtful message your father in law is clarifying. You're nothing but a piece of fuck meat, a trophy wife. But clearly not honored enough for your husband to use you. Humiliatingly, the way Dave's clothed body is up against your own, has your exposed cunt throbbing and leaking down your legs for him. You were good enough for Dave York, and that was an honor within itself.
"'M sorry," you murmur at the feel of his covered thigh spreading your leg and nudging into your soaked pussy.
Dave chuckles at your nearly cock drunk state, "haven't even touched you and your leaking on my dress pants. No wonder he keeps you around, you're just a perfect little slut willing to please."
"Y- yeaah," you sigh lightly humping his thigh, even though Dave didn't even ask a question. Something within you just wanted him to understand your body was his to use, despite both your sacred dedications to other partners. People so close to you. His son, your husband. Your mother-in-law, his wife.
He swiftly moves his thigh from between your legs, pinching your cheeks so they're puckered willing you to look at him with those glossed over doe-eyes he fucking leaks over. "Use that head and address me properly."
Your head swarms for a second, worried of his reaction to an incorrect title. Testing the waters, you whine, "yes, sir." The words muffled by the tight hold he has on your face.
With a sinister grin on his face, Dave pushes you down on the solid tile — hand still threaded through your hair to ensure your head movement is in his control.
"Look at that, your brain does work. Let's see about that mouth."
Yanking the zipper down, he pulls his semi-hard cock out and slaps it on your cheek, precum smearing slightly. As you eye his cock, you come to the realization that he's slightly bigger than his son at half mast, and you're gonna have to calm yourself to handle a monster like that.
"Are you gonna show me how good you take a cock down your throat? With those dick-sucking porn worthy lips?" Dave peers down at you. He has started to jerk himself to full length, his thumbs barely touching around his width.
"Yes, sir. I am."
The way your eyelids flutter up at him, so docile and unaware of just how vicious Dave intends to be on your needy body. It unlocks that fundamental primal male urge that he normally suppresses during sex.
"Open your mouth, bitch." As your tongue lolls out of your mouth obediently, a dribble of spit going down your chin to your neck to your tits gleams in the soft light. Dave grins as he stuffs two fingers in your mouth, touching at your sensitive uvula. You instantly attempt suppressing your rare gag reflex, body unprepared for his actions. "Nice job, knew you were meant to have your mouth filled."
Dave rips his fingers from you and smears the thick string of saliva across your face — slapping you across the face, rather gentle than before. As he grabs his cock and lines it up with your mouth, you inhale deeply. Seemly more aware of how Dave likes to be. Callous, straight-forward and dominant.
Before you can suck him into your mouth, Dave spits right on his cock — some of it landing on your moisturized lips — just to slam himself down your throat. Your eyes spring open looking up at him, polished hands gripping at his slack-covered thighs. You feel your left over slick on his right pant leg. The taste of his long day is heavy on your tongue as his balls nuzzle at your chin. You're overwhelmed with his scent. The hair at the base of his cock tickles your nose, stud piercing almost getting caught.
"Riiiight there, that's fucking it. What a real fucking whore."
Dave lets his head fall backwards, eyes on the ceiling as he feels you sputter around him, your spit dripping heavily down his balls and onto the tile between his legs. He's unsure on how long he looks upwards, until he feels the digging of your fingertips into him. When he looks down, your eyes are bulging — about to roll into the back of your skull. So he pulls off of you.
Your belligerent cough is almost too loud for comfort, so Dave jerks his cock and plops his full balls into your mouth. And like the eager girl you are, you suck them into your mouth. Licking at the seam between them, letting them bounce off of your tongue. You lick downwards, tonguing at his delicate perineum. That small but dirty act makes him groan loudly. Loud enough for someone on the second floor to hear.
Realizing he's getting too comfortable, he goes back to filling your mouth. Alternating between shallow fucking of the throat and just letting it bulge inside. His big hands wrapping around your neck to jerk himself through the thin hump of protruding skin.
When he hears the shrewd screech of his name from the mouth of his wife downstairs, he pulls out swiftly and yanks you up, hoisting your leg onto the counter. Prodding his cock head at your now unbelievably soaked entrance.
Your mind is hazy and disorientated concerning what's about to happen. You feel like you've barely had any time to process the fact that your father in law is treating you like a common street whore. So, when he pushes into you, a wailing shriek escapes you.
Dave slaps his heavy hand around your mouth from behind, pushing in balls deep but not before releasing a moan of his own.
"Better shut that mouth before I stuff something in there... good god. How is that cunt so damn tight? You're snug around me, guess you're not a slut after all. Tight pussy but loose throat, just how I like it."
Dave proceeds with his relentless thrusts into your aching cunt. You don't remember the last time you were filled so thoroughly. It makes you forget how fucked up this situation truthfully is.
As Dave's cock is slamming into your cervix over and over, you feel your lower stomach tightening. He feels it too. Dave has been holding in his orgasm since you first fell to your knees and gave him those fuck toy eyes. So before you can cum all over him, he grabs you by the neck from the front and puts your ear right by his mouth so he can relay his special message.
"My son told me you've been begging him for a baby... how sweet. You just wanna be a mama, huh? Or maybe, you think having one will fix your relationship. Just reminds me how stupid you are. If a kid could save a marriage, my wife and I would've been happy ever since she pushed that little shit out. But, I'm gonna make it even better for you, sweetheart...."
Dave pushes to the hilt as you cum around him, whimpering behind his hand. Eager to hear his words, simultaneously terrified.
"Gonna cum inside and get you pregnant myself."
You scream into his hand, trying to push him away from you, trying to get yourself away from his spearing cock. All your effort does is push him in deeper, your body going lax at how stuffed you are.
"Don't fight me, angel. Just take it..." You feel his warm cum spilling into you, your body quivering. "Good... so good. I already feel your body sucking up my cum.. eager for it. Eager to be round with your father in law's baby. What will it call me? Grand-dad?" He snickers into your ear as he releases your body. You just lay there, half your limp limbs hanging off the counter.
Dave watches his thick white liquid drip out of you, and down your inner thighs. He pats your ass and tucks himself back into his slacks.
"Don't worry too much. Daniel looks just like me, he'll never find out his kid is actually his half-sibling. That is unless you tell him. You want him to find out you were on your knees being a slut for his, daddy?" Dave questions you. You don't speak a word. Just staring at the piped detailing on the cupboard that holds all the scented detergents.
"Just go, please. So I can clean myself up." Those few begging words take the reminanets of your little energy.
Dave grabs your now wrinkly nightgown and robe, pulling you off the counter so you're forced to stand in front of him. Body spent, his finger prints have left slight indents on various parts of you that you're positive will bruise in the days to come. You realize now, there's no way your husband can see you uncovered for weeks.
"You're gonna put this slutty outfit on and walk your ass into his room, with my cum dripping down your legs. He's been waiting for you, sweetheart."
Your jaw drops at his demand. Disgusted yet your cunt clenches at the filth of it all.
"I thought you said he left?"
Dave just smiles at you like you're a mindless child. You almost fall to the floor in despair at the discovery of what a lying sick bastard Dave has revealed himself to be. You don't know what to do. You've caught yourself up in this twisted game and as of now, there's no way out.
So, you throw the soft lace over your head and run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix your appearance. As you unlock the door, Dave places a gentle hand on your waist and kisses the top of your head. You hear him inhale your scent before he pushes you out of the door and watches you meander to his son's room, a slight limp in your legs.
You look at him, distain on your face as you open the door to find your husband scrolling on his phone. With an arrogant look spread across his face — "Where have you been?"
Dave hears the click of the door lock setting in place. As he walks towards the stairwell, he can't help but laugh at the memory of his vasectomy he received many years ago.
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thank you truly for reading! let me know your thoughts below or in asks!! reblogs are greatly appreciated <3
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userparamore · 4 months
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PEDRO PASCAL as DAVE YORK The Equalizer 2 (2018) | dir. Antoine Fuqua
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aurorawritestoescape · 3 months
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TABLE FOR THREE
Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York || 3,2k
Summary: you’re having a great time on your date but a man from your past interrupts it and makes it…better?
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, mfm, not specified age gap, dom/sub dynamic, infidelity (reader’s, in the past), manhandling, daddy kink, praise kink, size kink, degradation, slut shaming, m!oral, cum eating, mutual masturbation, unprotected piv (wrap it up), creampie, light spanking, voyeurism, exhibitionism (they don’t get caught),mention of violence, pet names (baby, kitten, babygirl, sweetheart). Pics are for the mood only, reader has no specific physical descriptions.
A/n: this is filthy, y’all. Big thank you to an insanely talented writer @bonezone44 for inspiring me with this post. Smooching and hugging @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and screaming about this story with me. Love you all, hope you’ll enjoy it!💖 dividers by @saradika-graphics
PT 2 WHO’S YOUR DADDY? || MASTERLIST
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Your boyfriend Dave and you are having dinner in your favorite restaurant. Your regular booth is tucked in a corner, hidden from the prying eye of the other guests. You two love coming here because you can enjoy each other without being seen, thanks to the tall backrests. Now you’re laughing, kissing and Dave’s hand is resting on your upper thigh, barely covered by your short skirt. His thumb is caressing your soft skin and your mind brings you back to the night before when he was railing you while you were sucking on the thick finger and moaning like a whore.
Suddenly a man plops on the seat in front of you with a smug smile.
Joel fucking Miller.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ you repeat in your head as your heart freezes.
“Hello, sweetheart. Knew it was you. Saw you in the window passing by.”
He motions somewhere to the right of you and you inwardly curse his sharp eye.
“Want to introduce us, baby?” Dave asks with a cold tone in his voice and throws his arm around you in a possessive gesture.
You clear your throat and say as calmly as possible while panic twists your stomach.
“It’s Joel Miller, my— ehm, old friend.”
Joel chuckles, “Well, if old friends fuck like rabbits and live together for 3 years then I guess I’m that.”
He keeps laughing as you’re boring your eyes into him.
“Joel is my ex,” you admit, highlighting the last word with an expression of disgust on your face.
“Ex?” Dave repeats, narrowing his eyes and taking in the man sitting in front of him — older than him, much older than you, a broad torso under a worn out denim shirt, a big fist resting on the table and by the look of it, the man works with his hands. Joel seems to be calm and confident, but judging by the way you tensed, the break up wasn’t pleasant.
“Would never imagine you with a guy like that, sweetheart,” Joel says with a smug smile.
“And what guy am I?” Dave’s voice is coated with steel.
“Not like me, pal. I’m a simple working man, and this one always went for sweaty dirty men like me. You’re all suited up,” his piercing eyes slide to you and he asks, “Shootin’ out of your league, sweetie?”
“Fuck you,” you bite back and Joel smirks. You wanna slap his face so much but Dave takes your chin between his fingers, turns your head to him and looks into your eyes. His gaze under the furrowed brows scares and excites you.
“I’ll handle it.”
“Ok, Dave,” you mewl with a little nod and return your eyes to your troublesome ex.
“It’s her business who she dates. And mine. I guess your relationship ended badly, and I’m sorry, but shit happens, man. Move on.”
It’s so hot how calm he is and you feel your core burn with desire.
Dave pulls you closer to him with his arm still resting on your shoulder and rubs your collar bone with his thumb. Joel’s eyes follow his movements and he rasps,
“Don’t be sorry for me, pal. I’m fine now but ya gonna get burned if you don’t drop this slut.”
“You motherfucking piece—,” you sit up ready to start a fight but Dave’s hand, that a second ago was caressing your skin, flies to your throat and he pushes you back to the seat, not squeezing your neck but holding you seated by his side.
He shushes you and you can’t help but gush.
It’s a usual thing for him to be rough with you in bed, you love the way he manhandles you, breaks you every time you fuck, little by little, making you his. But he has never shown this side of him out of the bedroom. The idea that he’s so dominant with you around people sends electricity of arousal through your body.
With widened eyes you see Joel’s lips twist in a satisfied smile and anger burns your insides with a scolding ire. Only your boyfriend’s steady voice slightly calms you down.
“Joel, you seem like a reasonable man. What would you do if some asshole interrupted your date and started calling your girlfriend a slut. What I would probably do is break his jaw and then his legs.”
Not losing his smug smile, even after hearing your boyfriend’s threat, Joel raises his hands in front of his chest and explains,
“I don’t want any problems with you— it’s Dave, right? I’m doin’ you a favor. Givin’ you advice. Keep away from this minx. She’s good to look at and great to fuck but she’ll use you and then sleep with half of your crew.”
You curse and Dave puts his palm over your mouth. It’s big and warm and you feel your panties soak more.
“Crew?”
“I work in construction. I found out this bitch had slept with half of my team. Married guys, single. She was a hungry slut and I don’t think anything changed.”
He laughs and you try to take Dave’s hand off your mouth but he grabs your wrists with his strong fingers and keeps your hands on your lap.
“Sit still and let me listen, kitten. Or daddy will be angry.”
You swallow loudly, as your nostrils flare and pussy aches. Only your eyes can move now, darting between the two men.
“I like you, Dave, you have her under your thumb. I was too soft and kind with her. And women like her don’t appreciate kindness.”
Joel’s eyes shift between you and Dave as he continues, “Don't tell me you haven’t noticed. ‘s her nature. Her needy cunt always craves a fat cock. And oh boy, she always knows how to find it.”
You growl under Dave’s palm and he tightens his grip in warning.
“Shh,” he whispers in your ear and then turns to Joel with his eyes narrowed.
“I believe you.”
You hum in protest, wriggling in Dave’s steel embrace, and he takes his hand off your mouth.
“Dave, don’t listen to him, he’s just jealous.”
Joel chuckles, shaking his head.
“You can’t deny the truth, sweetheart. I caught you with a guy’s dick in your mouth, my friend’s dick. And then I beat the truths about your affairs out of the others.”
You glance at Dave with scared eyes but he isn’t looking at you. His pensive gaze is set on Joel.
Then he turns his face to you and blood freezes in your veins.
“I did notice how you looked at the waiter just now, kitten. And that bartender. I know you gave him your number.”
You shake your head, opening your mouth to protest, but he interrupts you.
“Joel isn’t lying. I can tell.”
“He is! I didn’t …”
“Enough!”
You immediately shut your mouth, as soon as Dave slightly raises his voice. He trained you well after all.
“Fuck, good job, man. Look at her. So obedient but still a little feisty.”
Dave smirks and you see pride in his eyes when he hears your ex’s words.
“And she knows how to take cock, huh?” Joel looks at you, adjusting a bulge in his jeans.
You’re glaring at him but your mind bursts with images from your past, him pounding into you, his huge cock stretching you so deliciously and then pumping you full of his thick cum. His skilful fingers could make you explode in minutes and you’d never forget the way he ate your pussy. Dave is perfect in bed but Joel was unforgettable.
“Look at ‘er, she’s probably creamin’ right now, the way she’s starin’ at me.”
Dave smirks darkly and looks you over.
“Let’s find out.”
With that he shifts in his seat, slightly turning his big body to you, and his hand on your thigh slides up and under the hem of your skirt.
“Dave”, you breathe in sharply, widened eyes looking at him.
“Shh, baby, I’m just gonna check.”
His hand pulls your skirt up and he sees your black lacy panties. Joel grunts and leans forward placing his big hairy forearms on the table so he could see what Dave is doing.
Your boyfriend’s thick fingers slip under your panties and you blurt out,
“I’m wet because of you, Dave.”
“Is that so, kitten?” Dave asks but doesn’t look at you. His dark gaze is set on your clothed cunt as he pulls your panties to the side, exposing you to his and Joel’s eyes.
“Fuck, Dave, you’re the man,” Joel praises your boyfriend and you see hunger in the older man’s eyes. You’re so turned on right now, you know you’re dripping.
Dave tsks when he spreads your folds apart and your cunt blooms for them - your clit throbbing, skin glistening with your slick. The cold air hits your pussy and you softly moan.
“Dave, people could see,” you whine and try to close your legs but Dave’s hand stops you and you feel his lips at your temple when he says, loud enough for Joel to hear,
“Let’s ask your old friend to sit next to you and cover you from the passers-by. Will you feel more comfortable, baby?”
You glance up at Joel and though you hate his guts, you can’t deny that you want the fucker.
You nod and Joel’s lips stretch into a wide carnal grin.
He gets up and you salivate at the sight of the huge bulge in his jeans. You desperately want to see his cock, touch it, lick it, su—
Dave interrupts your thoughts, shifting to the side and pulling you with him to make room for Joel. The seat is meant for two people and when Joel plops next to you, turning to you a little, your body gets sandwiched between their huge frames. You feel so small, so helpless around the two men and your clit twitches as the arousal floods your core.
With your pussy still out in the open, you glance at Joel when he wraps his arm around your waist and fans your cheek and chest with his hot breath. The familiar scent of cigarettes, whiskey and Joel's musk hits your nose and you quietly whimper.
“Missed me, babygirl?” He’s leaning to you and you move away, pressing your body closer to Dave.
Your boyfriend reads you like a book. He knows that you’re acting skittish but it’s just a facade. You want it, you want them both.
“Baby, you did wrong by Joel. I think we need to apologize. How about we let him play with your pussy? Daddy won’t be mad, I promise.”
You look into Dave’s eyes and see that he’s not lying.
“Ok, daddy,” you purr and Joel barks a laugh.
“Told you she always wants it. Our little slut.”
You bite your lip hearing ‘our’ but Dave shakes his head.
“She’s mine, Joel, don’t forget that. But I see that she hurt you, and you have a right to punish her. Use her however you want.”
Joel throws him a nod. “That’s fair.”
With that his big calloused hand cups your pussy and slightly squeezes it. You look at Dave as he watches your ex’s hand touch you and his blown out eyes send another surge of wetness into Joel’s palm.
“I missed your sweet cunt, babygirl,” Joel whispers in your ear while his middle finger slips between your folds and he prods your soaking entrance.
“Fuck, she’s so wet, Dave. I remember how she used to soak me, her slick was fuckin’ everywhere. Wonder if she tastes the same.”
You see his finger leave your pussy as he brings it to his mouth and licks it clean.
Dave groans and you moan, watching Joel taste you.
Suddenly you feel a slap on your pulsating clit and you jerk, crying out a little too loudly. You cover your mouth with your palm, scared that the people will notice what the men are doing to you but Joel and Dave only chuckle.
“I fucked her last week in a changing room and she moaned like a little slut but now she’s all embarrassed.”
“I loved it about her. She looks so innocent but when you get her going… fuck, she jus’ loses her mind at the sight of a cock.”
You feel your cheeks burn but Dave doesn’t give you a chance to wallow in your delicious shame and inserts two thick fingers into your wet hole.
You moan his name and he kisses your cheek, before he begins sliding them in and out of you in steady rhythm, whispering obscenities in your ear,
“My little slut,” “bet people can see us”, “you don’t care, right?”, “I know you’d make us fuck you right in front of everyone”, “play with our cocks, baby, c’mon.”
When you hear his command, your hand immediately darts to his bulge and you hastily unbuckle his belt with one hand, open his dress pants and pull out his stiffening cock out of his boxers.
“Don’t forget about your friend, kitten,” Dave rasps, spreading his legs wider, and you unzip Joel’s jeans and take out his already hard manhood.
Their cocks are exposed now and standing at attention, both gorgeous, long and thick. Joel’s is a bit girthier, but you salivate looking at both of them. You can’t deny it, you have a great taste in men.
You spit on your hands and grab Dave’s member with your left hand and Joel’s with your right. They both grunt, when you start sliding your hand up and down their throbbing cocks and you revel in the sense of control they’re giving you. Their slits are leaking on your skin and you glide your palm over their fat tips, gathering their precum to make the cocks wetter.
You’re a mess yourself, the seat under you is getting slippery because of the juices seeping out of your pussy, thanks to your boyfriend’s fingers.
Joel is softly growling, watching your hand pump his cock and Dave working your cunt. “Fuck, I missed you so much, babygirl,” he admits and grabs the neckline of your top. He tugs it down exposing your naked breasts, your perked up mipples and Joel takes one between his index finger and a thumb and shakes his hand up and down. You whimper at the pain that swiftly morphs into pleasure while your tit is bouncing. Joel hunches down and takes it into his hot mouth, gently sucking on it. Your hand flies to run through his hair and your eyes flutter shut, as your climax approaches.
“Come for us, kitten. Soak my fingers,” Dave orders and Joel pushes you over the edge when his fingers find your pulsating clit and he swirls it with his pads while his mouth is still latched on your puffy nipple. Both Dave and Joel are playing with your cunt and soon you’re writhing between them, as waves of euphoria are lapping at your body. You try not to scream but it’s almost impossible, so you bite your lips till you taste blood, desperately trying to hide your ecstasy from the people in the restaurant.
When your orgasm subsides and you slump in your seat, breathing heavily, Joel’s mouth leaves your breast and their fingers part from your messy pussy.
You languidly stroke their cocks, feeling them thrum in your hands.
Dave turns your face to him and kisses you, licking into your mouth, claiming you as his in front of the other man. While your lips and tongues are caressing each other, you hear Joel almost moan from the pleasure your hand is giving him and you part from your boyfriend to whisper,
“He’s gonna come soon, daddy.”
“Want his cum, kitten?”
You nod and he smiles.
“Sit on my cock so I can fill you up. And give your mouth to Joel.”
“Yes, daddy.”
You fix your top and Dave helps you to sit on his stiff member. You both moan at the sensation but Joel curses at the absence of your hand on his ready-to-explode cock.
When you lean down, bringing your mouth to his length, the older man coos, “what a good little slut. Want my load, babygirl?” You look up at him and breathe out a sultry ‘yes’.
“C’mon, milk our cocks, kitten,” Dave commands with a light slap on your ass and you clench around him, making him grunt.
You take Joel’s manhood in your mouth and it’s like those years apart didn’t happen. The taste of his skin, the shape of his cock are so familiar you moan, thinking how much you missed it.
Dave slowly rolls his hips into you, holding your hips with his strong hands and his length slides in and out of your clenching wet hole. You feel the second climax build fast, so you move your hips up and down to make him fuck you harder.
“Man, you did wonders with her. She’s such an obedient little slut now,” Joel praises your boyfriend as their cocks are filling your body from both ends.
“It’s a work in progress, but she’ll be a good girl in no time.”
The way they talk about you like you’re not here, like you’re not pierced on their hard cocks is so delicious that after one hard thrust from Dave, you explode, unravelling on your boyfriend’s manhood as your moans are muffled by your ex’s fat length.
Your trembling body sends the men over the precipice, and Joel starts spurting his warm cum in your mouth and you drink it, hungrily slurping till the last drop. As soon as you’re done swallowing your ex’s load, Dave pulls you up by your shoulder and presses you tight to his body, wrapping his arm around your waist, the other hand splayed on your chest. You feel warmth in your core as his manhood is pulsing inside your pussy and filling you up with his big load. Joel tucks his softening cock back in his jeans, watching your boyfriend’s balls draw up and pump you full while your hole is stretched around his girth.
When Dave stops coming, he carefully lifts you up and quickly pulls back your panties. You sit back down between the men as Dave softly kisses your lips in gratitude and then orders you,
“Don’t spill a drop, baby. Want you to soak your little panties through.”
“Can I see?” Joel asks the younger man, not you, and Dave gives him a short nod.
Joel brings his hand to your pussy and pulls on the band of your underwear. He peeks inside, seeing the creamy cum coat the gusset and your puffy folds.
“You're so fuckin’ hot, babygirl. Did so good for us.” Joel mumbles in your ear and you glance up at him with a little smile. You can’t deny it, you loved this fucker.
As if reading your mind, Joel shoots you a wink and looks at Dave again.
“Was nice meeting you, Dave.” Then he takes a card out of his wallet and puts it on the table.
“If you wanna share the progress, training this one,” he nods at you, “give me a call.”
Then he gets up, adjusts his bulge and leaves the restaurant.
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Thank you for reading!❤️ Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic, it motivates me to write more filth for you, lovelies!🩷🌸
Pt 2 Who’s your daddy? || Masterlist
Main tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag
Also tagging the ceo of the Dave York agenda @janaispunk 😘💕
If you'd like to be tagged in the series or in anything else let me know!💕
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bruhlpng · 3 months
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Pedro Pascal as Dave York The Equalizer 2 (2018)
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slow
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
wordcount: ~1.7k
summary: Dave is not the type for slow morning sex and struggles his way through cock warming. He's just a guy <3
warnings: smut, explicit, no use of y/n, established relationship, mild d/s dynamics, unprotected p in v, cock warming, pussy pronouns, pet name (honey), female masturbation (teensy tiny bit), a couple of affectionate ass smacks, Dave trying to be a strong man™️ and not fuck you silly
a/n: it started as a blurb but it got big. Sorry not sorry. Don't come for me, come for him. Literally. Even if he says no. Forever and always grateful for @guiltyasdave for the hyping and the beta. 💛
divider: @saradika-graphics
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There is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave. Slow evenings and nights, yes. But not the mornings. 
The mornings are for getting up early, going for a run, taking a shower, getting ready and giving you a forehead kiss while he's already halfway through the door on his way to work.
And it's not that you didn't try to get up as early as him, tried to make him breakfast, tried to bring him a coffee to bed before his alarm even went off. You did all this and he was grateful. 
But you disturbed his morning ritual, and his rituals are sacred. If one thing doesn't go like the ritual dictates, his whole day feels off. 
He knows you crave the slow mornings. With coffee in bed and his cock in your pussy. But he simply can't. Dave is a creature of habit and you know that, accept it and support him by not being in his way. 
But when Dave got the opportunity to work from home for a day a week he agreed immediately. Not because he is a big fan of working from home, he prefers the office setting by far. But Dave knew it would make you happy to see him during the day, maybe eating lunch together, maybe having a coffee break in the kitchen. 
The first day of working remote comes and everything happens as always. Getting up, going for a run, taking a shower, he even puts on his suit. You get the kiss on your forehead while you are still tangled up in the bed sheets. 
It's not even 6:30 in the morning and Dave is already having a call with someone somewhere in Europe. You hear his voice faintly, it creeps around the corners of the hallway, paired with the smell of coffee. 
The words are inaudible but the sound of his voice... You sigh and your hand slowly snakes between your legs, just like the authoritative tone, his professional laughter, the competence oozing from him. It's not about making yourself come to his voice, it's about the pleasure and comfort of knowing him close to you today. 
With your movements too sluggish and too modest you slowly drift into sleep again. When Dave opens the door to the bedroom with a coffee for you, he finds you like this, sleeping on your side with one hand in your panties.
He doesn't have the time, he's having another call in 15 minutes but God, this is so tempting. You are so tempting. He's torn between waking you up and handing you your coffee or waking you up and making you moan. 
His dick twitches at the thought and his free hand tugs himself back in place. 
He's in control of every aspect of his life. Even you, because you gladly play after his rules. But his dick... that's the one thing he has little control over, especially when it comes to you.
Dave doesn't like being weak, being put in his place because clearly, his place is at the top and no one else puts him there but himself. 
But for you? He's weak for you. He's soft for you, and tender, and it scares him sometimes. If you knew how much you have him wrapped around your finger, you could easily use it to your advantage. 
You wouldn't do it. He knows that. You're good, good for him, good to him, his good girl. Maybe too good for him. 
He shoves the thought aside and seizes your ankle, a touch between a tickle and a pull. You stir in your half sleep and his cock stirs in his briefs. 
God, he's so fuckin' weak for you. 
He paws at you, at your soft calf, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed while you sleepily turn onto your stomach, sweetly groaning and whining. 
"Wake up," he orders, still in work mode, used to be obeyed for payment and you groan again because his command reverberates in your achingly empty cunt. 
"I'm awake," you murmur and feel his ridiculously large hands gripping your hip and hoisting you up on your knees. One hand follows the curve of your spine between your shoulder blades, pushing your chest back onto the mattress, the other hand impatiently tugs and pulls your panties to the side. 
"That's what you do all morning when I'm not at home? Playing with yourself?" His palm lands on your ass, it's not painful, you know he simply likes the visual of your soft flesh jiggling and rippling under the impact of his body. 
A clink of his belt buckle, the low hiss of his zipper, the grunt when he pulls himself out of his boxers and pumps himself out of habit. 
"Answer me." Another order and you clench. 
"No. I don't." You arch your back more, stick your ass out more, not caring about how needy you are already after just waking up. 
"Such a shame," Dave murmurs and gives you another smack, kneading your ass cheek until he pulls you open for him. 
"You really should play with yourself. Gets you nice and ready for me." 
He checks the clock. T-10 until the next call. Fuck. No slow morning for you and him, again. 
He nudges his tip between your folds and runs up and down and up and down again and again to hear your sweet gasps and whines and pleas. Oh he lives for the muffled please, please, fuck me. 
The thick head of his cock disappears inside of you, welcomed by the squeezes of your cunt. You're still sleepy but she's wide awake. She always is for him.
“Sorry, honey, got no time to properly fuck you,” he mutters and slowly, painfully slow, pushes into you. Torturous for you and for him. He gives you the time to stretch around him, to fully wake up to his cock buried in your tight heat. And he allows himself the luxury to hide his own neediness behind your back.
Your warm, soft butt pressed against him, your sleep-warmth seeping through the fabric of his slacks. Your cute cotton panties pushed to the side, the waistband cutting into your plush hips… Dave's thighs twitch from the effort of not pulling out and thrusting back into your pussy again. “Just need to feel you. Just for a couple of minutes. Don't!”
A sharp clap echoes through the room when you try to rock your hips against Dave. He kneads the stinging skin on your butt, already feeling a little sorry. So. Fucking. Weak.
“Can't have you ruin my slacks.” Can't have me giving in.
He needs a lesson in discipline. In staying strong. He can't run around, always hard, just because you're in the same room and breathing. He can't be a slave to your cunt, even though he is.
Another glance at the clock, he has five minutes left at best. Five minutes to stay strong. But you don't need to suffer, you did nothing wrong.
Dave doesn't move, doesn't budge an inch, his jaw is clenched and every time your sweet little pussy clamps down on him he grunts. He won't move. Need. To stay. Strong.
You're being so good. You just stay still, needy, sleepy, confused. Why won't he move? Not even a little bit? His hands run over your back, so damn slow, the weight of his palms heavy on your skin, his blunt nails barely grazing you.
“Touch yourself for me, sweet girl,” he grits through his teeth, thinking he might be able to endure the next phase of his stupid self-inflicted disciplinary action. “But don't move, do you understand?”
You nod your head, your cheek rubbing against the bed sheets that smell like you and Dave. “Yes,” you murmur and when your fingers find your clit you bite into the sheets, groaning out another ‘yes’ with drawing tight circles over your sensitive bud. 
You clench around him, gripping him and your already tight and snug cunt starts feeling like Dave's personal heaven. If only he could fuck you thoroughly. Don't.
He grips the flesh of your rear again, concealing his trembling fingers with pulling and holding you close against him. God, the way you squeeze him, the way he fits so perfectly…
Dave always enjoyed cock warming. Nothing better than having you sit on him, needy and soaking, while watching a movie or eating dinner, balls deep inside of you. But not today. Today is torture. Today he is the one not being allowed to feel too much pleasure.
But you, on the other hand, enjoy yourself immensely. It isn't ideal, you like the movement more, the friction, the pounding, the way your whole body gets shaken with every thrust. But being stuffed full and working on yourself is nice, too. Really nice. Every one of his throbs and his hissed curses push you closer to the edge. Just a little bit more, just a little longer, just a-
“Oh hell no,” he snarls and pulls his hips back, both of you wince when the connection between you breaks. “Didn't tell you to finish.” He knows you well, knows exactly how your cunt acts when you're about to come. And he knows his dick, this traitor. The weak link.
“Dave… Please?” You whine, wiggling your ass for him, offering your bare self to him, trying to lure him back into you and a bead of sweat trickles down his forehead. He's so needy, he hates it.
“Not this time, honey, sorry.” His cock is covered in your arousal, glistening, coated from the tip to his balls, but he doesn't bother wiping himself clean. He simply pulls his briefs and slacks back up, his fingers tenderly drum on your butt one last time before he turns for the door as if he was on the run. 
The fucking call starts in two minutes. He feels your sticky slick messing up his briefs, he knows he's leaking. Your cunt, that's what he will smell the whole time, every time he spreads his legs. He will actually smell you all day long. 
That'll do it, though. Teach him the lesson about discipline. Because he surely can't be this hard the whole day. He won't be weak for you the whole day. He won't give in to his dick that so desperately wants to be buried in any of your holes.
Turns out, he's not hard the whole day. Just until lunchtime, when he finds you in the kitchen and asks you to get on your knees because you have to clean up your mess you left on him.
There truly is no such thing as a slow morning with Dave.
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reblog and/or comment to warm Dave's cock (or to make me happy, whatever you like best, I'm not judging)(I'm deffo keeping his cock warm, sorry @/myself)
find my Dave York masterlist here
find my general masterlist here
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almostfoxglove · 25 days
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HOLD STILL
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written for @punkshort's AU August Challenge
RATING: Explicit (18+) PAIRING: Bodyguard!Dave York x f!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.4k CW: Dave's filthy mouth, pwp, smut (cockwarming, unprotected piv, creampie, sorta soft-dom!dave but really he's just bossy, sorta praise kink, a couple pussy pronouns don’t look at me), and one nonsense tense switch just for the hell of it I guess.
SUMMARY: On your last night together, Dave agrees to compromise.
read on ao3 | almostfoxglove masterlist
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You want him, but he won’t fuck you. Not once, not even quickly, not even with just his hands. Dave York—ever stoic, unflinching—insists on doing his job and his job alone. And you, as he so enjoys reiterating, are not his job. Protecting you is. 
For three weeks you’ve smothered the calendar hung on the kitchen wall with another red X each morning, whittling the days until you give your polished testimony and say goodbye to him for good. Now the court date looms heavy on the horizon—it’ll rise tomorrow with the sun. 
In the meantime—these last, dwindling hours—you roam the grand rooms of an apartment rented for your protection, your anonymity, at the very skirt of the city where you’d surely have lost your mind if not for him. Stationed diligently at your side, hand never more than a twitch from the grip of his gun. So many hours spent alone you've memorized his form: how he looks scanning the curtained windows for any whisper of danger. How he's never complained when you choose cheesy reality shows from the TV guide. Teaching you how to play Spades with a deck of cards soft and worn—from his home, maybe, though you never ask—and letting you win the first hand, lips quirked when you call him out on it, then unapologetically wiping the floor with you for the rest of your isolation. 
Yes, you know him, though only in image. Broad and sturdy, shirts each neatly ironed and squarely tucked. The hard line of his jaw and the fullness of his bottom lip. His hair always swept neatly from his face, even when you know he’s recently woken up. Never scruffy, never stubbled. Clean shaven and the smell of nice hotel shampoo.
It’s wrong, how you try to prod him to no avail. No matter your efforts, he says nothing of the way you adorn your body: lacy slips and satin sets at night, hugging silhouettes during the day, hair always done, lipstick never out of place even though you can’t leave the apartment or stand too near the windows. Dave is the only one who sees you, save for the days or hours when he leaves you his clumsy understudy to step down from his post.
He must know you do it for him.
It’s wrong, but you asked once, early on. Tonight? 
And Dave’s mouth pinched into a flat, polite line. Unreadable, his face drained of its emotion. His declination drawled deep and heady, a voice that curled your toes and more than once kept you panting alone in your bed that’s not yours at all, just two doors away from his, fingers needy and swirling. No, honey. Not tonight.
Repeated in your mind until it warped like an overplayed tape.
No, honey.
Honey.
Honey.
Not tonight.
Tonight.
Tonight, he is gone—your last together before the trial—leaving you in the hollow apartment with his proxy, stung. Same dark clothes, same holstered gun, same little piece nestled in his ear, but not half of what you want. You want Dave: a man as solid as he is driven, immutable as he is tempting. Assigned to protect you until you deliver the account that’ll send a monster away.
Perhaps you’ve liked the game—how he watches you, but never gives in—but now it’s lost its shimmer.
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Lights dimmed for the evening, all black curtains drawn, the vaulted ceilings of the kitchen feel miles high as you perch on a barstool at the breakfast counter to stare at the calendar taunting you across the quiet room. Beyond the pristine halls you’ve lapped all day like an anxious dog, the city serenades you. Traffic squealing through streets, sirens singing in the distance, the occasional shout of someone walking by outside, eight floors below. 
You are not, at night, permitted to part the curtains, lest someone get a glimpse of your illuminated face, but you long to open one now, see if Dave is out there, returning to your little castle turret one final time. Because it’s possible he won’t come back at all—that his coworker will escort you between lobby and truck, between truck and courthouse, between courthouse and whatever comes next. Maybe home. That you’ll never see Dave again, let alone throw caution to the wind and ask once more, tonight?
And then, just then, as your stomach begins to sink with disappointment, you hear the sudden crack of the front door unlocking and the creak of its surrender. You’ve conjured him, somehow, past the stroke of midnight. Then low, rumbled whispers, the unmistakable tone of Dave’s voice mumbling to his understudy. Your heart speeds as the door closes again and his stand-in retreats into the hall. How dizzying, the sound of locks settling into their rightful places, turned by Dave’s unerring hands. 
When he appears in the dining room behind you, bomber jacket hanging from one arm, he tucks a tiny apology into the twitch of his lips—or maybe it’s meant to be a smile. “It’s late,” he says, as your eyes drink him in. Polished as ever, despite the hour, not a stitch out of place. “Should be in bed.”
You shrug, hoping you might appear indifferent. “Couldn’t sleep,” you say, aware of how the satin of your robe slopes off your shoulder with no intention of righting it.
Does something darken in his face then, or do you imagine it? You can’t be sure, not in this umbra, at this time of night. Jaw ticking, Dave strides cautiously toward the dining table, drapes his jacket over the back of one glossy chair, and sinks into the seat at the head of the sleek table, same as usual. A quiet kind of reign, his claiming this position, always, for every meal. He scratches his cheek, slips the gun from the holster at his belt to rest on the table, and as he leans back you indulge yourself—how can you not—in the slight buck of his hips as he shifts to stretch out his legs. 
“Need your rest,” Dave chides softly. No edge to his tone.
Sighing before you can stop yourself, disappointed all over again as his gaze draws off you to the windows and drapes. On duty, still. On duty, always. Not you. Not tonight. “S’the last night,” you reply, staring at the calendar again. One little red X to go. “You weren’t here.”
Behind you, his deep and measured breath. The shiver of that unflappable restraint, you hope, but you don’t yet dare to look back. He might spook.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
You don’t budge. Don’t move.
“You hear me?” Voice a little harder now, solidifying. When he speaks to you, you always look him in the eye—or you always have before.
Electric, your heart. Revving just a breath faster, just a hair harder, at the sound of him huffing in frustration. Your lips tick up in one corner, hidden, a secret meant only for you. When Dave says your name, your whole body purrs and you at last turn your head enough to let him glimpse your profile, still withholding your gaze.
“Pouting,” he scolds, this time meaning it. “That what this is?”
“Avoiding me,” you counter. “That where you were?”
Dave hmphs, darkness fading and softness returning to his tone. “Course not, honey.”
You look at him now, properly. Barstool spinning as you push off the counter to face him. Under the dusk of dimmed pendant lights over the dining table, Dave glows. In the time you’ve looked away, he’s unbuttoned his shirt one button lower than it’d been when he walked in.
One button lower than you’ve ever seen him wear before.
“Said I’m sorry,” he says again, head tilted. His foot comes out to nudge the leg of the chair beside his, angling it in your direction. “Come here.”
He means for you to sit, maybe play a hand of Spades, but as you slink off the barstool you have no intention of taking the seat. Warmth flushing in your chest, cool, conditioned air greeting your bare legs and collarbones, all the skin not covered by your sleekest sleep set. You swear he drinks the sight of you, for once, as you cross the kitchen toward him. Eyes dark not only from shadows, from the time. Or else you hope, as you come to a stop between Dave’s knees, that the way he’s not yet blinked means what you want it to.
Lips parting, a breath from speaking when you beat him to the punch and ask, “Tonight?” Your chin lowered and eyes searching his. It’s the last night. Might as well show your hand while you still can, before he slinks back into the underbelly of a city where you know he’s lived for years but you’ve never once glimpsed him, and not just because it’s busy.
Because invisible is what he’s paid to be, what he’s good at. Unseen until the fist of him is needed, the gun.
Pink striping his bottom lip, a swipe of his tongue, eyes boring into you. The slightest shake of his head, clean-shaven cheeks sharked in the shadow and golden light. “Honey.” Not a no, honey. Not a not tonight. Just honey, like you’ve imagined.
Emboldened, you caress of your fingertips across his shoulder, tracing the seam of his crisp, pale blue dress shirt. So handsome, always so handsome. A man who takes care of himself, who tidies and cleans without your needing to ask. Spotless, always. Reserved, always. Killing you, always, with every brush of his gaze. 
You draw your fingers towards his shirt collar.
“Can’t,” says Dave, softer still. Breathy, almost. You pet the knife-cut of his pressed collar, the button just below it, and his Adam’s apple bobs slowly in his throat. Again, he shakes his head so slightly it looks more like a twitch. A reflex to say no. Not a desire to. “Can’t fuck you, honey. Wouldn’t be right.”
You bite your lip, brows drawing together, not lifting your hand from the button placket of his shirt. “Just tonight,” you breathe, and bat your eyes a little.
At last Dave’s dark eyes drop from yours, scanning the length of you above him with searing precision. Consideration. You slant your head to one side as his gaze slides back up, hesitating on your silk-draped chest, and you suck a sharper breath before it returns to meet yours. He cuffs your wrist with his hand to halt your teasing as he shakes his head once more, licking his bottom lip again with greater meaning. A glint in his eyes, lust finally flaring. 
Pride swirls in your stomach, honeyed and wanting. Then he tugs you by the hips with such reflexes you hardly register the movement of his hands before you’re on him, straddling him in the chair, your thighs framing his hips. Held. Your robe fanning behind you, over his knees. Heart pounding dangerously close to a cardiac event.
Dave tsks softly, smirking when you whimper, trying to roll your hips over the heat of his crotch. Those careful, deadly hands lock them in a vice as he clicks his tongue. “Not gonna fuck you,” he murmurs, and you lean in to kiss him but he pulls his head away. “Not gonna kiss you either. Not right.”
You don’t care about right. Now you pout for real, forehead wrinkling, staring at his upturned lips. You feel the unmistakable twitch of him growing hard against you and your cunt throbs in reply, needy and slick. You try to wiggle again but Dave pinches your hips in warning. “Look at me,” he repeats, that edge to his voice that curls your toes, and your eyes snap to his.
“Good girl.”
You moan quietly, made liquid by the tender swipe of his thumb over the satin of your sleep shorts. Your eyes fluttering at such a tiny stroke, not even the meeting of skin. 
“You can’t move, okay? Only allowed to sit.” When you don’t answer, too lost to the throb of his cock against your begging core, Dave pinches you again, voice gravelly in a way you’ve not heard before. “You hear me?”
Nodding, you hum. Can’t quite get out the word. 
“Need to hear you, honey. Gonna hold still for me?”
“Mhm,” you whine, fighting your every instinct to grind down against him as you meet his lust-blown eyes. “Yes. Only allowed to sit.”
Dave puffs a hot breath out that sends a wake of goosebumps across your chest. “Good girl,” he coos, and your brows pinch at the praise. “Soaking me already, honey. Can’t sleep like this, can you? Just need to turn your brain off, hm?” The movement of his hips below yours is so slight you might imagine it, that tiny grind as his cock grows. You nod, whine softly, and both his thumbs stroke your hips gently before stilling again.
“Show me, honey.” So quiet. So little air between you, and yet too much.
You scan his face until he offers a small nod. Those brown eyes hooded by dark lashes, devouring you without need for the press of his mouth. It’d be soft, you’re certain. The caress of his lips. Maybe the rest of him is hard and deadly, but those would be tender, careful—they’d take you apart, breath by breath. With the same precision with which he darts between shadows and cleans his gun and beats you at cards and tucks your hair behind your ear when you’re falling asleep on the couch, he’d dissolve you kiss by kiss with a kind of grace.
It’s his lips on which you pin your gaze as you let one hand drift between your legs, dipping easily between silk and skin—your body made jelly so quickly and by so little contact, already wet. You pray you don’t imagine the sharpness of his breath when your knuckles accidentally graze against his slacks as you slip your fingers between dewy folds. Then: your hand rising in the dim light, shining, honeyed. Dave watching them, the corner of his mouth cracking just a little. Tensing into his cheek.
He grunts, good girl, and then he’s lifting you just enough to peel down the zip of his slacks, flick open the button, but when your eyes fall hopeful for a glimpse of him he tsks, hooks one finger beneath your chin to tilt your face up, whispers a soft eyes on me, honey as he pulls himself out where you can’t see.
As his knuckles brush against the wet gusset of your shorts, nudging them to the side. Finding no panties to move.
As the head of his cock—plush, warm, weeping—nudges against the ache of you, the thrum of your longing.
He grins, wicked.
Then pressure, a moan lost to the air you’re hardly conscious of and the stretch of him, the slow press in and the ache of your cunt swallowing his girth inch by inch. You whimper, eyelids shuddering like old film, catching only still frames of Dave’s expression as he lowers you gently, burying himself in your drooling heat until you come to rest at his base, flush and full.
So full. Light-headed, sparkling. Your hips must rock because he squeezes your waist. “Hold still, honey,” he coos. “Remember?”
The terms of his touch sounded alright just a breath ago, but now you can’t imagine how you ever agreed. How you’re supposed to stay still with him throbbing inside you like this, heavy and sweet, exactly what you need. A flicker in his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how he’s scrubbing out every thought in your head. Cocky, yes. But earning it.
“Dave,” you sigh, breathy and desperate. Your cunt clenching and squeezing and pushing out slick, probably ruining his slacks but he won’t let you look down, just tilts your head up gently every time it hangs slack. “Please.”
His breathing catches for a beat, then it’s steady again. “I know, I know,” he murmurs, keeping his finger under your chin to keep your eyes on him—but he hardly needs to. You’d swear the whole world drained away the second he slid into you. There’s nothing else past your bodies, past this one dining room chair. Everything else disappears like magic. The trial, the dread, the drone of city noise. The slow leak of your heart knowing this is goodbye—all of it. Gone.
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You’d have sworn it impossible to come like this, with no movement at all, but you will. You do. And months from now—safe in the swaddle of your actual apartment that for weeks has stood hollow and dusty, plants withering sadly on their windowsills—you’ll lie in bed longing, missing, remembering. Trying to recreate the swipe of his thick thumb on your clit as you replay this moment in your head. How you whined, wanna take care of you when Dave still wouldn’t let you move, even when you were close, just swiped and swiped his thumb until you were something more than alive, transcending.
How his pupils had set ablaze with your whispered plea. How you’d realized that was the point, for him. The begging and the not giving in.
How he’d growled, “Taking care of you is taking care of me. You don’t think I’m gonna come the second this pussy strangles my cock? ‘Cause I am. S’all I need, honey, just give it to me—”
His voice the thunder to your body’s crackle and lightning.
“Let her take care of me, that’a girl, that’s it, just like that honey, she’s so tight—fuck—so fuckin’ tight around me, just squeezin’ me, gonna come when you do, pretty girl, let me have it.”
How it hit you like a white bolt of heat and light, every cell in you tense and flaming, then melting, boneless on his lap as he murmured sweetly, grunted, tried to lift you off him just in time and you’d finally, finally touched him—lucid in an instant, hands slammed down on the muscle of his shoulders. Mumbling amidst your aftershocks, inside, inside, inside. Eyelids stuttering again, back to picture frames as your cunt seized and begged in tandem.
The snarl of his upper lip.
His knotted jaw.
Tongue sucked against his front teeth, resolve crumbling.
The allowance granted to your hands to stay right there, fisting his shirt collar as his locked your waist in a bruising vice. His hips bucking only once, grinding the head of his cock deeper, deliciously, almost too good to take. 
“Fuck, fuckfuck—yeah, that what she needs, honey? Needs me to fill her up?”
You’ll remember your own reply as you near a second-rate heaven in the nest of your duvet at home, all frantic hands and thrusting digits and eyes slammed shut, repainting him in your head. Golden in that gloomy light, hair straying out of position across his misted forehead for the first time. Yes. Please. Dave. Yes. Inside. Please—and his grunt, dark and sweet as caramel, as burnt brown sugar. That tiny grin dragging at his soft lips, pleased. You’d pleased him, surprised him maybe. 
That can make you sparkle now, to remember.
“Okay, honey. Okay—shit—gonna give it to you, hm? Gonna give you all of it, baby—she’s squeezing me so goddamn tight, fuck, wanna stay here all night—”
Then the granting of a wish, the heat of him spilling into your cunt, the unmistakable slide of slick leaking between your thighs and onto his; you didn’t have to look to know. You could feel it, that wholeness overflowing. You can almost feel it now; three fingers might be a poor attempt at recreation, but you fall off the cliff all the same, his name on your tongue, a cry in the night, all the curtains dark and drawn as you come down breathless and drowsy, your whole body limp and spent as it’d been that night with him—when he’d tucked himself away and petted your hair back from your face, so gentle with you, cooing that you did so good, honey. Such a good girl. Gonna get you into bed now, hm? Need your sleep, honey. Come on. 
Carrying you into your not-real bedroom, tucking you in so tenderly, like he hadn’t just taken you apart at the molecules. And Dave’s lips were just as plush as you’d imagined when they grazed your forehead, his big hand petting your cheek once more, then turning out the lights. That deep timbre whispering from the doorway, goodnight. The door clicking shut. All of it perfect. How you’d known you mattered more than a job for just one moment in time.
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dividers by @saradika-graphics - tag list & some mutuals <3
@ak-vintage @thethirstwivesclub @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @hediondoamor-blog @harriedandharassed 
@burntheedges @la-eterna-enamorada29 @goodgirlwannabe @guiltyasdave @for-a-longlongtime
@littlemisspascal @luxurychristmaspudding @tonysopranosrobe @evolnoomym @sweetpascal 
@spacelatinos4life @sweetpascal @biggetywitch @wannab-urs @jolapeno 
@pedgito @pastelpinkflowerlife @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @sixhours 
@noisynightmarepoetry @clawdee
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agentmarcuspike · 4 months
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dave york x babysitter!f!reader
summary: the kids you babysit have a hot dad. you want him. but he's married... cws: unfaithfulness (dave is married to carol), power imbalance (employer and employee), fainting, thigh grinding, fingering, reader wears a skirt, dad!dave and his kids, nicknames (baby, honey), reader sits in dave's lap, mention of blood, frottage kinda, one (1) shoulder bite word count: 2.7k divider by @thecutestgrotto thank you and shoutout to my cheerleaders on this, liv @5oh5 and han @swiftispunk <3 and my love @joelsversion for helping with the header <3
"Without touching his skin, How can I be guilty as sin?"
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You hate being alone with Dave York.
There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s a perfectly pleasant, well-mannered man. His daughters, Molly and Alice, are angels when you look after them (mostly), and nothing Dave has ever said or done has made you uncomfortable. Your interactions are innocent and professional. And that’s exactly the problem. 
There’s nothing wrong with him.
Because when you’re left alone together, in the evenings when his kids are asleep and he offers to drive you home, or in the mornings on the days he doesn’t work  from home and he pours you a cup of coffee in the kitchen while you make the girls breakfast… you can’t stop your mind from wandering.
You’re not entirely sure what Mr. York does for work, but you know he must look good doing it. Prancing around the house in his fitted dress pants that hug his front and back just right. His loose dress shirt hiding the body you suspect is strong and strapping, based on the sounds coming from the garage when he tells you he’ll be working out. And those are just the parts you don’t get to see.
His hands, however, are always on full display. When they curl around that mug he hands you. His palm brushing the small of your back as he opens the door for you when you leave. Fingers tapping, sometimes only one on the steering wheel, when he drives you home. When he’s typing away at the computer in his home office, or brushing the hair out of his girls’ faces before kissing their heads goodnight on the nights that he makes it home in time. Oh, those fingers… and that ring.
The ring he wears as a promise to Carol, his wife, that he’ll always be faithful to her. You should know how much a promise like that means. Someone once promised you the same. To always be there, to never stray. But stray they did. And the pain of that is something you don’t wish on anyone.
So yes, you hate being alone with Dave York. Because he’s so close. You spend more hours in his house than your own, basically raising his kids. And he’s right there… but he’s not for you.
It has been a very long day, and yet the clock on the kitchen stove shows only 11:27. The girls have run through the garden sprinklers all morning, worn out and down for a nap already, a combination of heat and exhaustion making you wish you could do the same. The heat wave has lasted for days now, only alleviated by a few minutes of clouds during the worst hours. 
Your bare thighs cling to the chair as you get up to clean up your lunch. It’s quick work, so you do the rest of the dishes too, even though it’s not your job. Warm soapy water prunes your fingers quickly, the only parts of your body not already damp with sweat. The house is rarely this quiet during the day, only the distant sounds of traffic from the main road blocks away filling the room, joining the splashing of water and clangs from dishes as you put them back into their cabinets. Some mornings you can hear Dave talking in his office, the sound carrying through the house. You can never make out what it is he’s talking about, only the low rumble of his voice sometimes plaited with other voices through computer speakers. He’s quiet today. 
This heat is unbearable, you think, as you wipe your forehead with wet hands. Leaning on the counter, you take a deep breath. For a second your eyesight falters, and lightheadedness washes over you. Have you even had a glass of water today? You can feel your legs start to wobble, vision turning static, and you’ve just started swaying when–
“Hey, hey!” 
A strong hand grabs your arm as you topple over, and you lean into Dave’s solid chest, letting him support your weight as you focus on your breathing. 
“There you go, honey,” he soothes. “Deep breaths.”
His shirt smells crisp and clean, the scent interrupted by whiffs of soap and cologne from his skin underneath it, as you inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
“You okay?” His big hand draws circles on your back, still holding you up with the other.
“Just hot…” you manage, lifting your head up to see a concerned Dave look down at you with furrowed brows. 
“Come lie down in my office for a bit, the AC is better in there.”
He supports you on your unsteady legs with an arm firmly around your waist, guiding you to his work room at the other end of the house. You’ve never really been in there, only stuck your head through the door to let him know you’re leaving at the end of the day.
The room is huge, especially for a home office. Floor to ceiling windows cover the far wall, his desk in the middle of the room, facing the door. Bookcases line the other walls, filled with mostly folders and what looks like heavy encyclopedias. In front of one of them is, of all things, a chaise lounge. What is he, a shrink? You’ve never seen him have anyone else in there, but for all you know he might as well be. He’s got the calm and steady presence you imagine one would need to be any kind of doctor.
“Here,” he says as he guides you over to the chaise, one big hand engulfing yours, the other supporting your neck as you lower yourself down.
“Let me get you some water.” 
As he leaves the office again, you hurriedly smooth your skirt down, suddenly very aware of how much skin you’re showing. If you lift your knees your entire ass would be on display for him when he returns, but you know keeping your feet up will be good for the dizziness. You settle for an in-between, only one leg raised, and the other straight out, just as Dave returns, bottle in hand. He twists the cap open before he hands it to you.
“Thanks,” you breathe as you accept it, gulping down half the contents in one go. You hand the bottle back to him and he chugs the rest. Your eyes are fixed on his plush lips around the bottle opening that was just between your own. You wonder what they would feel like on your warm skin.
As he drinks, a stray droplet escapes from the side of his mouth, trickling down to his chin. It runs down the length of his throat, Adam’s apple bouncing when he swallows, and then the drop disappears underneath his shirt collar. Your mouth waters, yet you feel even thirstier. You’d like to rip his shirt off and lick the droplet off his chest, as if only that could quench your thirst. And you can’t help but feel… No, you can help it. You should. It’s completely inappropriate. He’s your employer, your boss, and he’s… so Goddamn good looking. Shit.
He crumples the empty plastic before throwing it away in the bin next to his desk. Slumping down in his office chair he turns his attention to the computer screen.
Typing away at his keyboard, you watch him. Doctor York? Professor York? You try to imagine him; teaching a class, doing paperwork at an office, running a store, being someone’s strict and authoritarian boss. The latter thought makes your legs clench together involuntarily. 
“What do you do?”
The question escapes you before you can help it, and you cringe slightly at your own sudden bluntness. 
“Sorry?”
“I just realized I don’t know what you do for work.”
He doesn’t look up from the screen when he speaks, but a subtle smile plays on his lips.
“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” You laugh.
“That would suck. Who would look after your kids?”
“I’d be on the run, so not me.”
“Carol, then. All alone. Poor Carol.”
“Yeah. Poor Carol…” he agrees, voice suddenly grave.
A few minutes pass, comfortable yet somehow charged silence surrounding you. When he speaks again, his tone shifts—still dark, but less grave.
"Ever been to Europe?" he asks, breaking the stillness.
The unexpected question leaves you momentarily flustered.
“Uh, yeah, I, uhm… I went backpacking there a million years ago,” you stutter.
His eyes narrow slightly. "Really?"
“Why is that so hard to believe?" you challenge, squinting back at him.
“Just a little surprising, I suppose.” 
He meets your gaze without flinching, a spark of something unreadable flickering in his dark eyes.
“I’m actually planning a trip to Belgium. Come have a look at this.”
He beckons you closer with two fingers, the gesture innocent and yet, paired with your clouded judgment and current state of mind, borderline obscene.
Carefully, you put your two feet down on the floor, taking a moment to test your balance. Once confident you won’t topple over again, you step over to his side of the workspace. You lean over his desk, one hand on the table and one on the armrest of the office chair he’s seated in, squinting at the screen. It’s probably very interesting, pictures and lists of things to do and see abroad, but the only thing you can focus on is the sliver of ass you know is revealed when you bend over in this particular skirt. You’d usually wear something more work appropriate, even just a pair of hot pants underneath. But this weather… This heat…
Dave’s gaze is just as scorching as he awaits your reaction, and you can tell he’s working hard not to let his eyes wander. Just like you do, when from the corner of your eye you spot his hand moving absentmindedly up and down his thigh, resting a little too long at the top, thumb grazing his groin.
“Want me to bring you something back?” he asks, voice low, close to a whisper, as if worried someone could hear him. 
You shift your weight from one leg to the other, giving your feet a little more space between them, making room between your thighs. Suddenly, his fingers graze the insides of your thighs and his hand trails upwards, coming to rest over the wet patch of your underwear, damp from your excitement or from the temperature you’re not sure. An audible sigh escapes you at the contact. He responds with a groan of his own as he starts drawing circles over your clothed clit.
“I’ve heard they have great chocolate,” you stutter in response to his question.
“Yeah? You got a sweet tooth?”
You wish desperately he would touch your skin, and try to angle your hips so he can slip a finger under your panties, but he just follows your movements, touching you through the fabric. You only hum in response.
“God, this isn’t right…” you hear him whisper to himself. You don’t disagree, yet neither of you make a move to stop.
His hands move to rest on your hips, and he slowly turns you to face him. Soft fingers grip you tightly. The insides of his legs brush the bare skin of your own, making you shiver despite the heat. Your eyes flutter shut.
“Look at me,” he says, pleading. So you do. The darkness of his eyes pull you in, and you’re almost taken over by the urge to lean down and kiss him. As you start to bend down, one hand resting on his shoulder, his hands on your hips keep you in place. At a distance.
“Tell me we shouldn’t do this.” His eyes rake over your body, taking you in, short fingernails digging into your skin. “Tell me this is wrong.”
It wouldn’t be a lie. It really is, and you really shouldn’t. So you’re not sure why throw one leg over his and straddle his thigh. A buzz shoots through you as your swollen core meets the tight muscle of his leg. You’re so close to him like this. So close you can feel the warm puffs of his quickened breath fan your skin, with a faint scent of coffee, toothpaste, and something else, indistinct but distinctly Dave.
Details of his complexion you’ve never noticed before become clear. The worry lines between his brows. The sharp curve of his cupid’s bow. The few hairs he’d missed while shaving, probably in a hurry, that morning.
Almost unwillingly your hips start drawing small circles, chasing release. Dave’s hands haven’t moved an inch, still gripping your hips, following your movements. His eyes are fixed at where your legs clasp around his own, soft movements growing erratic as your pleasure pulls you further.
Under his clothes he’s fully hard now, the fabric of his dress pants stretching around his erection. You imagine the weight of him in your hand, how your fingers would barely meet around his shaft when you jerk him off. You shift forward, thrusting, wanting desperately to feel him, but he holds you in place, pulling his own hips away from you.
“Nuh-uh.” One of his hands releases its grip on you and rises to gently cup your face. The tips of his fingers barely brush your skin. “Not like that.”
“What?” you breathe.
“Just…” Dave’s face contorts slightly as he sighs. “Just take what you need. What you want.”
You continue to grind on his thick thigh, drenching his trousers with each movement. Back and forth, clenching around nothing. As your breath quickens, you hunch over more and more, forehead eventually landing on Dave’s shoulder. Your teeth come down on the soft flesh of your cheek, and you chew, molars slicing through the skin until you taste blood. 
“Come on,” he purrs, his voice hoarse and vibrating in your ear. “Come on, baby, give it to me.”
“I’m gonna–
Your mouth falls open in silent moan, and you bite down on his shoulder to keep from making a sound, soaking his already damp cotton shirt in saliva and drops of blood from the inside of your mouth. His grip on your hips is relentless, and he groans through his gritted teeth as you fall over the edge.
“Fucking… come… on.”
And you do.
Your thighs clench around Dave’s, and you can feel him tense up as well, sending new waves of pleasure through your core. The buzzing vibration runs from your middle, through your spine, and sets off another spark at the very top of your skull. Your hairs stand up, goosebumps. The blood pumping in your ears deafens you momentarily. 
With your nose buried in his neck, nuzzled behind his ear, you take a few breaths to restrain yourself. His hands are looser on you now, thumbs drawing small circles on your hip bones. His chest rises and falls underneath you, slowing in time with yours.
And just as you’re about to lift your head from his shoulder, not quite ready to face the reality of what has just happened, what you’ve done, someone else breaks the silence.
“Daddy!”
Molly’s sleepy voice is unmistakable from down the hall. Dave’s hands are off you in a second, and you barely have time to react before he’s on his feet.
“Dave, I’ll take her–”
But he’s already out the door.
Once you’ve flattened your skirt and straightened up in the hallway bathroom, you find them in the kitchen. Molly is blabbering, Alice yawning, while Dave is listening and laughing, arranging their lunch in funny shapes on their plates. Cucumbers for eyes, a slice of bell pepper for a pair of red lips, a piece of mushroom becomes the nose. The children giggle at their Dad’s shenanigans. 
You stand in the doorway, observing. Domestic bliss. They’re not your kids and he’s not your husband, and this moment is not for you. As the kids’ laughter and the clang of kitchenware reverberates through the open kitchen, you catch yourself wondering how Dave will explain the stains you made on his clothes to Carol.
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taglist:
@hellfire-state-of-mind @janaispunk @joelscruff @takochansugoi @paanchusblog
@pastelpinkflowerlife @mountainsandmayhem @inept-the-magnificent @bitccchmood @sullyselena
@akjnoris @teanbean521 @joelalorian @lucifurrr @theetherealbloom
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@lostfleurs @always-andromeda @amanitacowboy
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pedgito · 4 months
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PEDRO PASCAL as DAVE YORK The Equalizer 2 (2018)
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perotovar · 18 days
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PEDRO PASCAL as DAVE YORK The Equalizer 2 (2018) dir. Antoine Fuqua
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din-jarring · 4 months
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dave york in the equalizer 2
ummm 👀 do you see? >.<
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drewharrisonwriter · 23 days
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One Day at a Time - Ch. 12: One Day at a Time
Pairings: Dave York x Female Reader
Series Summary: A man washed ashore, with no memory, and no name, finds a home and a life in the middle of nowhere.
Author's Notes: This story has been sitting in my drafts for over a year, waiting for the perfect moment to see the light of day. It wasn't until recently that I found the inspiration to finally finish the last two chapters, thanks to the incredible Keri @absurdthirst. Her story, "Washed Up," struck a chord with me—it had such a similar plot and concept to what I had in mind, and it reignited my passion to bring this piece to life. Keri's writing has been a constant source of solace and inspiration, and I'm endlessly grateful for her creativity and the way she crafts stories that speak to the soul. If you haven’t checked out her work, you absolutely should!
Warnings: Please be aware that this story contains elements of violence, explicit sexual content, and pregnancy. Additionally, there are medical inaccuracies throughout—because I don’t work in the medical field, so please take it all with a grain of salt. Enjoy the ride, and thank you for reading! 😊
Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist
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The fluorescent lights of the hospital waiting room cast a cold, unforgiving glow over the sterile white walls. Dave sat hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low as he stared blankly at the floor. His hands were balled into tight fists, his knuckles white with tension. The storm outside continued to rage, the sound of rain hammering against the windows echoing through the nearly empty corridor.
Resnik sat beside him, his eyes quietly observing the storm brewing within Dave. He could see the turmoil written all over his friend's face—the guilt, the fear, the uncertainty. After a long silence, Resnik finally spoke.
“You’re thinking of leaving,” Resnik said, his voice calm but firm.
Dave didn’t respond at first. He just kept his gaze fixed on the floor, his thoughts spinning in a thousand different directions. After a moment, he swallowed hard and whispered, “Maybe it would be better if I did… if I just left and never looked back.”
Resnik’s brow furrowed, and he turned slightly in his chair to face Dave. “You can’t be serious.”
Dave let out a bitter laugh, his voice thick with self-reproach. “Why not? Look at what happened. I dragged her into my mess, and now she’s lying in there fighting for her life—and our daughter’s life—because of me. Because of my past… because of who I am.”
Resnik’s eyes softened, but his tone remained steady. “Dave, you didn’t do this. McCall did. And yeah, maybe you made some mistakes in your other life, left some things unresolved, but you had no memory of it all… And if you did, you know you can’t just walk away now. That’s not who you are.”
Dave shook his head, his voice barely a whisper. “I should have known… When I got my memory back, I should have known. Should have anticipated this might happen… And now, I think maybe they’d be better off if I wasn’t in the picture.”
Resnik leaned forward, his voice firm but not unkind. “You know that’s not true. You technically were not in it when this happened.” He reminded him.”You can’t walk away from this, Dave. Not when she chose you when you were no one—when you had no name, no past, nothing. She saw something in you that was worth staying for. And you’re just going to walk away from her when she needs you the most?”
Dave’s jaw clenched, the weight of Resnik’s words pressing down on him. “I don’t know if I can do this… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stay, to face what I’ve done. To see the look on her face once she finds out what we truly are…”
Resnik placed a hand on Dave’s shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Give her some credit, Dave. Don’t let fear of something you don’t know make this decision for you. You’ve faced worse odds than this and come out the other side. This is your new family. Your new start… You don’t just walk away from that.”
Dave closed his eyes, his chest heaving with the weight of everything he was feeling. Resnik was right—he knew that. But the thought of facing you, of seeing the pain he’d caused, was almost too much to bear. “I don’t know if she can forgive me,” he whispered.
“Maybe not,” Resnik replied softly. “But that’s not your call to make. You owe her the chance to decide for herself. You owe it to her, and to your daughter, to stay and fight. Don’t make the mistake of running again.”
Before Dave could respond, the door to the waiting room opened, and a doctor stepped out, her expression serious but calm. She approached them, and Dave stood up, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Mr. York?" she asked, and Dave nodded.
Dave nodded, his voice caught in his throat. “How is she? How’s the baby?”
The doctor offered a small, reassuring smile. “They’re both stable for now. Your partner is 3 centimeters dilated, and she’s only 36 weeks along. We were able to stop the contractions and control the bleeding, but we’ll need to keep her in the hospital for a few more days to monitor her and the baby closely.”
Dave exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a wave of relief washing over him, but it was tempered by the doctor’s next words.
“We’re keeping a close eye on her,” the doctor continued. “We want to avoid her water breaking suddenly. If that happens, it could lead to complications, especially given how early it would be for her to give birth. Our goal is to keep the baby in as long as possible, ideally until she reaches at least 38 weeks. At that point, we can consider inducing a natural delivery.”
Dave swallowed hard, his mind racing. “And if… if her water breaks before that?”
The doctor’s expression was grave. “If that happens, we’ll need to act quickly. The priority will be to deliver the baby safely, but it will mean a premature birth, and there could be risks involved for both her and especially the baby even with only a few weeks to go before it reaches full term.”
Dave nodded, trying to process the information. “Can I see her?”
“Of course,” the doctor replied. “She’s resting now, but she’s been asking for you.”
Dave took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. He looked back at Resnik and nodded his thanks before making his way down the corridor toward your room.
He hesitated at the door for a moment, his hand resting on the handle as he steeled himself. Then, with a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
You lay there, your face pale, but your eyes opened when you heard his footsteps. You managed a small smile, and he felt a wave of emotion crash over him, seeing you safe, but still so vulnerable.
“Hey,” he whispered, moving closer to your bedside.
“Hey, stranger,” you replied softly with a weak smile, your voice just as weak but steady.
Dave reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Are you… are you okay? Did he hurt you?” he asked, his voice filled with concern and fear.
You shook your head slowly. “Not… not physically,” you replied, your gaze meeting his. “He wanted to end you… said he’d do it if I didn’t get in the well.”
Dave’s face hardened, a mix of anger and guilt flooding him. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, his grip tightening around your hand. “I should have been there… I should have known he’d come for you.”
Your eyes softened, your thumb brushing lightly against his hand. “Dave, you couldn’t have known. He was… deceiving… He was my friend.” You choked a sob. “I thought he was, but he was ruthless, and he knew exactly how to hurt us both, but he didn’t win. We’re here. We’re still here.”
Dave’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. “I came back because I wanted to be with you… and you weren’t home…” Dave was sobbing now, too, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.” he whispered. 
You squeezed his hand, your expression filled with understanding. “You didn’t lose me,” you whispered back. “And you won’t. But you have to promise me… you have to promise you won’t leave.”
Dave’s eyes searched yours, his guilt still gnawing at him, but he nodded. “I promise,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”
You closed your eyes, relief washing over you. “Good,” you murmured, your grip on his hand tightening. “Because we still have a lot to figure out… about us, about this… about our family.”
Dave leaned forward, his forehead resting gently against yours. “One day at a time,” he whispered, his voice filled with a new determination.
“One day at a time,” you echoed, your voice soft but sure.
Dave stayed by your side, holding your hand, his heart filled with a mixture of hope and fear. But as he looked at you, at the strength in your eyes, he knew he was exactly where he needed to be.
It had been nearly a week since the night you were brought into the hospital, and the air in the room felt lighter today. You were sitting up in bed, a soft, warm light filtering through the window as you and Dave spoke. The tension from that night had eased, and the conversation flowed more easily now.
Dave sat beside you, a smile playing on his lips as you talked about his older daughters, Molly and Alice. “Molly was so excited when I told her about the farm,” he said, chuckling. “She asked if she could ride a horse every day. I think she pictures herself as some kind of cowgirl.”
You laughed softly, the sound bringing a smile to his face. “I’d love to see that. I bet she’d look adorable in a little hat and boots.”
“She would,” Dave agreed, his expression softening. “And Alice… she’s curious. She’s got a lot of questions, you know? About you, about us.”
You nodded, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. “I’m glad they’re open to visiting,” you said honestly. “But… I don’t want them to think I’m trying to replace their mom. I’m not… I’m just—”
“Hey,” Dave interrupted gently, his hand finding yours. “You’re not replacing anyone. They know that. You’re adding to their lives, not taking anything away. And they’re smart kids—they’ll understand.”
You smiled, though a twinge of pain in your belly made you wince. You tried to hide it, but Dave noticed, his brows furrowing. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just… a bit of pressure,” you admitted, trying to shrug it off. “I think I’ve been sitting too long.”
Dave watched you carefully, still worried, but he nodded. “We can walk around a bit, if you want. It might help.”
You took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
He helped you off the bed, his hands steady on your arms as you found your footing. As you began to walk, he kept a slow pace beside you, his gaze never leaving your face.
“So,” he started, trying to keep things light. “What about us? I mean, after all this… I know I want to be with you, but… how do you feel?”
You chuckled softly, though the pain seemed to intensify with each step. “Well, I wouldn’t have stuck around through all of this if I didn’t want to be with you,” you replied, half-teasing, half-serious.
Dave smiled, but then his expression turned more earnest. “I mean it,” he said softly. “I want to live with you, build a life together… as your husband, if you’ll have me.”
You laughed, a little breathless. “Husband, huh? You’re still married, remember?”
Dave grinned. “Technically, I’m dead. And Carol is a widow. But we’ll figure it out.”
You shook your head, amused despite the pressure building in your lower belly. “Always so straightforward.”
“Why waste time?” he said, then his face grew more serious. “I need to ask you something… does everything McCall told you about me and Resnik still bother you?”
You hesitated, considering your words carefully. “At first, it did,” you admitted. “But I understand now—it was a job, something you had to do. It’s all in the past.”
Dave nodded, relieved but still tense. “And… do you think you can move past it?”
You paused, taking a deep breath, and then asked, “Are you leaving that job in the past, Dave? Is it really over?”
He nodded firmly. “I don’t want that life anymore. I don’t intend to go back to it. I want a quiet life with you and our children.”
You smiled, feeling some of the tension ease from your shoulders. “Good… that’s what I want too.”
The conversation shifted back to Molly and Alice. Dave told you more about his conversations with them, how he’d described the farm and the life he hoped they could all build together. You listened intently, finding comfort in his words, but as he spoke, you felt a sharp, sudden pressure below your belly. You winced, trying to hide it, but a small gasp escaped your lips.
Dave’s eyes flickered with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, moving a bit closer.
“I think I just need to walk it off,” you replied, but your voice trembled slightly.
He helped you steady yourself, and you continued walking, though each step felt heavier, the pressure intensifying. Suddenly, a wave of pain washed over you, and you nearly cried out, gripping Dave’s arm.
“Dave…” you gasped, your voice strained. “Something… something doesn’t feel right.”
Dave’s eyes widened, his grip tightening on your arm. “We need to get you back to the bed,” he said urgently, but you shook your head.
“No… I need to… I need to walk,” you insisted, though your legs felt like they were shaking beneath you.
The pressure below grew unbearable, and you felt a sudden gush of warmth between your legs. Your eyes widened in shock. “Oh… oh God, Dave, my water just broke,” you breathed, panic creeping into your voice.
Dave’s face went pale, but he quickly composed himself. “We need help,” he said, pressing the call button repeatedly. “Stay with me, just breathe.”
The nurse rushed in, quickly assessing the situation. “Her water’s broken,” Dave explained, his voice tight with worry. “What do we do?”
“I’m paging her doctor now,” She tells them. “We need to get her back in bed and wait for your doctor’s orders, but chances are, you’ll be induced.”
They carefully helped you back onto the bed, adjusting the monitors as you struggled to breathe through the pain. The doctor arrived a moment later, quickly assessing your dilation and was surprised to see that you’re almost fully dilated.
“We have an eager baby right here,” The doctor joked, telling the nurse there’s no need for Pitocin. 
“Dave…” You whimpered. 
Dave squeezed your hand, his face filled with concern. “I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice steady. “Just keep breathing, okay?”
The contractions came hard and fast. You felt a wave of pain wash over you, and you gripped Dave’s hand tightly, your knuckles turning white. “It’s okay, just keep breathing,” he murmured, his voice a constant source of comfort.
You focused on your breathing, taking shallow, panting breaths as you felt the pressure building, the pain intensifying.
The doctor checked you once again a little while later and announced that you’re about read to push and guided you, their voice calm but firm. “Take a deep breath, and when you feel the next contraction, push.”
You nodded, bracing yourself as another contraction hit. You bore down, your body trembling with the effort, your legs shaking from the strain. You could feel the baby’s head pressing downward, the intense pressure almost too much to bear.
“Oh fuck!” you exclaimed and panted, your breaths coming in sharp, ragged bursts. The sensation was overwhelming—your body straining, your muscles burning with the effort.
“You’re doing great,” Dave whispered, his hand still holding yours tightly. 
“Your kid’s head is too big!”
Dave chuckled and kissed your temple. 
The pain was relentless, and you could feel yourself growing tired, your muscles screaming in protest. “I can’t…” you gasped, tears streaming down your face. “It’s too much… it’s too big…”
“Yes, you can,” Dave insisted, his voice steady, his eyes locked on yours. “She’s almost here, darling. We’ll meet her soon….”
The doctor nodded in agreement. “You’re so close. Just one more big push.”
You took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of strength left in your body. You pushed with everything you had when the next contraction came, feeling the baby’s head finally begin to crown. The pain was blinding, your body shaking with the effort, but you kept going.
“Daaaavveee!” you wailed and panted, your voice trembling, your legs quivering with the strain.
The doctor’s voice was steady, encouraging. “That’s it… you’re doing it… keep going, keep pushing.”
You bore down again, gritting your teeth against the pain, feeling the intense pressure as the baby’s head began to emerge. “Oh God… oh God…It burns!” you whimpered, your body trembling, your muscles taut.
“Just a little more,” Dave urged, his hand firm around yours. “You’ve got this… just a little more.”
With a final, desperate push, you felt the baby’s head finally slip free. A wave of relief washed over you, but the work wasn’t done yet.
“One more big push for the shoulders,” the doctor instructed. “Almost there.”
You took a deep breath, your body shaking with exhaustion, and bore down one last time. The baby’s shoulders slid out, and with a rush of fluid, the rest of the body followed. You gasped, your body collapsing back against the bed as the cries of your newborn filled the room.
Dave’s face broke into a wide, tearful smile. “She’s here!” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You did it…”
The doctor quickly wrapped the baby in a blanket, holding her up so you could see. “It’s a girl,” they announced with a smile. “A beautiful, healthy baby girl.”
Tears streamed down your face as you reached out, your heart overflowing with love and relief as Dave helped you lay the baby on your chest. Dave leaned in, his arms wrapping around both you and the baby, his tears mingling with yours.
“Hi there,” you whispered softly, your voice trembling with joy.
Dave’s hand brushed against her tiny head, his eyes filled with awe. “She’s perfect,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “Absolutely perfect.”
A few weeks had passed since you gave birth, and the farmhouse was filled with a new kind of energy—a blend of exhaustion, love, and the sounds of a newborn finding her place in the world. The transition had not been easy, but the small moments of peace and contentment made it all worthwhile. The baby’s cries, coos, and little sighs seemed to echo through every room, and somehow, the house felt more alive than it ever had.
Dave had taken to fatherhood with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. Almost forgetting that he’s done this twice before. You’d find him awake in the middle of the night, cradling the baby in his arms, murmuring soft words of comfort as he paced the room. He had this way of making her smile even when she was fussing, and the sight of them together made your heart swell with a quiet joy.
Today, as you sat together on the porch, the late afternoon sun casting a warm glow over the fields, you found yourselves in a rare moment of calm. The baby slept peacefully in her bassinet beside you, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the nearby trees.
Dave turned to you, his expression contemplative. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about how we move forward from here.”
You smiled softly, leaning back in your chair. “And what have you decided, Mr. Technically-Dead?”
He chuckled at the nickname, but his face soon grew serious. “I want us to be together… properly. I know I told you this before but I don’t want you to worry about me disappearing again, or wondering if my past is going to catch up with us. I want to build a real life with you, but we’ll need to figure out how to deal with… all the legal stuff.”
You sighed, considering. “It’s complicated, Dave. You’re still legally dead, and Carol is technically a widow. I’m not even sure where we’d start with that.”
Dave nodded. “I’ve thought about it. There might be a way… we’d have to involve a lawyer who’s good with… creative solutions. I’d have to come back from the dead, legally speaking, which won’t be easy, but I think we can make it work.”
You bit your lip, thinking it over. “But what about your daughters? Molly and Alice?”
Dave’s expression softened. “They know I’m alive now, and they’re excited about meeting their new sister. I don’t want to be a ghost in their lives. I’ll always be their father, no matter what. And I think they’ll understand that I’m trying to be the best father I can be… for all of my children.”
You nodded, feeling a sense of relief at his words 
He reached over, taking your hand in his. “I want to marry you,” he said plainly, his gaze steady. “I know it’s complicated right now, but I don’t want to spend another day without you knowing how serious I am about this… about us.”
You smiled, squeezing his hand. “We’ll figure it out, Dave. One step at a time. For now, let’s just focus on the life we’re building here, together.”
He nodded, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And this life… it feels right, doesn’t it?”
You leaned closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “It does. I never thought I’d find this… but here we are.”
He kissed the top of your head, a small smile on his lips. “Here we are,” he echoed softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Over the next few months, the farm slowly evolved into a new routine. You adjusted to life with a newborn, and Dave took on more responsibilities, managing the day-to-day work with a steady hand. Resnik stuck around, lending a hand wherever he could, and you began to feel a sense of community growing between you all.
Molly and Alice visited the farm for the first time a few weeks later. You were nervous at first, but the girls quickly warmed up to you and the baby. Molly immediately fell in love with the horses, while Alice asked a thousand questions about the farm and how everything worked.
Dave watched with a mixture of pride and relief, clearly grateful to see his daughters bonding with their new family. “They seem to like it here…” he said, his voice filled with affection.
You nodded, smiling. 
He looked at you, his expression softening. “That’s because they’re with us. This is where they belong.”
As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Molly and Alice grew stronger. They are at the farm every weekend and you and Dave found ways to include them in the farm’s daily activities, teaching them how to care for the animals, and letting them help with the gardening, and the baby. The girls thrived in the open air, and soon enough, the weekends were filled with laughter, chatter, and the smell of fresh-baked bread.
Dave continued to be a constant source of support, always finding ways to make you feel loved and secure. He would wake up early to tend to the farm, then help you with the baby throughout the day, always making sure you had time to rest. At night, you’d often find him sitting by the fireplace, holding the baby in his arms, whispering stories you couldn’t quite hear.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the fields, Dave took your hand, pulling you gently toward the porch swing. “Let’s sit for a bit,” he suggested.
You settled beside him, the baby nestled against your chest. “What’s on your mind?”
Dave took a deep breath, glancing out over the fields. “Nothing much… just want to sit with you… and tell you just how grateful I am that you took me in when you know nothing about me…” 
You leaned into him, chuckling, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Kinda hard not to… Loss was a constant theme in my life… and seeing you fight for yours despite what you went through, it gave me hope. Hope that I can help you have a fresh start… have a new life.” 
“And you did,” he said, his voice filled with quiet determination. “You gave me a fresh start and more....”
You felt a warmth spread through your chest, a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I love you, Dave,” you murmured. Dave nodded, his gaze unwavering. “And I love you.” 
“I never thought I’d have this,” he admitted, his voice soft. “I never thought I’d find peace.”
You reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “I never thought I’d find it either,” you replied. “But we did. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
He smiled, pulling you closer. “Neither would I. One day at a time… and look where it’s brought us.”
Fin.
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userparamore · 4 months
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#if killer why big brown eyes like a baby cow?
+ bonus:
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691 notes · View notes
aurorawritestoescape · 3 months
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WHO’S YOUR DADDY?
Joel Miller x f!reader x Dave York || 2,7k
Part 2 of Table for Three (can be read alone)
Summary: Joel Face Times you.
Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, mfm (kinda), not specified age gap, dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, praise kink, light degradation, squirting, m!oral, f/m masturbation, cum eating, voyeurism, exhibitionism, pet names (baby, kitten, babygirl, sweetie). Pics are for the mood only, reader has hair, but no other specific physical descriptions.
A/n: I saw that video and had to write this. Pedro is such a menace! Warm hugs to @iamasaddie for the gif in the m/b❤️Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing💖 Dividers by @saradika-graphics 💕 Hope you’ll like it! Love you all😘
Pt 1 TABLE FOR THREE || GET A TASTE || MASTERLIST
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“Who’s your daddy?”
“Fuck off, Joel, you know it’s not you.”
Joel is Face Timing you while you’re still lying in bed in the early afternoon after a night of passionate fucking with your boyfriend Dave.
You are surprised by your ex’s call but can’t deny that after last week when you sucked him off at a restaurant, meanwhile sitting on Dave’s cock, the surprise is pleasant.
Joel’s in his bedroom, judging by the background, and he looks so hot, you immediately gush. His hair is slicked back, chocolatey eyes sparking with mischief and his five day stubble is calling to be rubbed against your pussy.
“Yeah, I know Dave’s your dom daddy now. Is he with ya?”
“Dom daddy,” you snicker, rolling your eyes, “you watch too much porn, Joel.”
“Yeah, ya think I’m beating my own meat every day, cryin’ over you, babe?
“Aren’t you?”
You both stare at each other but Joel cracks first as a smile tugs at his lips and you both laugh. After a few moments you remember the question he asked.
“Dave’s in the kitchen. Why are you calling? I thought you had me blocked. Or vice versa.”
“Well, i reckon, none of us could say ‘goodbye’”.
“Oh, I can now. Bye, Joel!”
“Wait, wait, baby,” he gruffs hastily through the phone speaker, stopping you from hanging up.
“What?”
“I need to ask ya somethin’. ‘s important”. He narrows his eyes, his expression is serious.
“What is it?”
Joel’s squinting at you for a few seconds while you’re taking in his combed back curls, his handsome tanned face, broad shoulders under a plaid shirt. Every time he talks, his voice makes your pussy tingle, sounding even sexier through the phone. Finally he breaks the silence.
“What are you wearin’?”
You can’t help but laugh.
“You’re an asshole, Joel.”
“I’m just a man in love.”
You giggle, raising your brows and shaking your head in disbelief.
“You hated me a few days ago.”
“I did, baby. But I let the past go.”
You take a deep breath, feeling your guilt for what you did years ago slightly lifted off your heart.
“So?” He presses.
“I’m not telling you, Joel.”
“Ok, then just show me.”
You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Your eyes dart to the door where you hear Dave, making breakfast for you two. You don’t think he would mind you flirting with your ex a little, considering he let you give the older man a handie in front of him. Besides, you look very cute in your sexy nightie with nothing else underneath so you change the angle of the phone so Joel could peek at your body, splayed on the bed, a blanket covering just a part of your leg.
You hear a whistle and your heart sings.
“Pretty, babygirl. Did he buy it for ya?”
“He did,” you reply with defiance in your voice.
“‘s he rich?”
“Dave’s doing fine. But I’m with him not because of money if that’s what you’re implying.”
“Ain’t implying anythin’.”
Then you just look at each other as the air in the rooms gets heavier and a light flirting morphs into something else. Joel breaks the silence first.
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart.”
You haven’t expected that and suddenly your throat gets squeezed with emotions.
“Thank you, Joel,” you say softly.
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“Who are you talking to?”
Dave walks into the room with two mugs of coffee and the aroma quickly fills the bedroom. He’s wearing a gray tee and a pair of sweatpants.
“Joel’s FaceTiming me.”
“Joel?” Dave repeats with his brows raised.
He puts the coffees on the nightstand and lies down next to you and your mouth waters as his scent engulfs you.
You shift the position of the phone so Joel could see you both and Dave greets your ex.
“Joel says that he’s happy for me,” you tell your boyfriend with excitement in your voice.
“Oh, thank you, Joel. I’m glad that you two solved your past issues.”
“Her apology really helped, man. I wouldn’t say no to another one though.”
Joel winks at you and Dave smirks, “I understand. She’s very good at apologizing.”
Your eyes are darting between the two men. You can’t shake the feeling of wanting them both and your pussy tingles with desire. Dave’s body pressed to yours sends a surge of arousal to your core and you feel the cold air of the room on your bare wet folds and shiver with excitement. Joel is making you even hornier. He looks hot and masculine with his slightly wet hair. He must have had a shower.
For a second you remember how he made you squirt for the first time. On his knees in the shower in front of you he licked at your pussy and sucked your clit until your legs started trembling but he didn’t stop and began pumping his thick fingers into you, curving them and pushing on that sweet spot in your burning core. In no time you were spraying your juices everywhere, his hand squelching against your folds as he was repeatedly hitting your clit with the heel of his palm. Only your hands on his broad shoulders helped you not to collapse on the floor.
“Kitten!”
Dave calls you, not for the first time apparently, and you blink at him trying to shake the images of the past that were occupying your mind just a second ago.
Joel laughs, “Babygirl, were you thinking of us just now?”
“No,” you mumble, averting your eyes from both of them.
“You’re lying,” Dave says, not asking, and you see his gaze darken. It’s filled with curiosity and lust.
“Tell me what you were thinking about.”
“I—I just,” you stutter, looking at one man and then the other.
“It’s ok, kitten. You two had a past. Daddy wants to know.”
You swallow loudly and reply, “I was remembering—.” It’s so quiet in the room. “—how Joel made me squirt for the first time.”
Joel’s smug grin can be seen from fucking space. He looks sickeningly proud of himself and you immediately regret telling them.
Dave smiles carnally, as if he was waiting for that, and asks,
“How did it happen?”
“In the shower. He ate me out and fingered me.”
Dave turns his face to your phone and asks Joel, “Did you plan on doing it?”
“Yeah, I wanted her to squirt all over me. Does she squirt with you?”
“Yes, she’s a talented girl. Thank you for giving her her first time,” your boyfriend says to your ex and you’re afraid that you’re going to soak through your nightie. But Dave doesn’t give you a respite.
“Kitten, say ‘thank you’ to Joel.”
“Thank you, Joel,” you purr obediently and the older man winks at you through the screen.
“You’re welcome, babygirl.”
You see Dave adjust himself and notice that his prominent bulge has grown even bigger since he joined you two on the bed. He’s enjoying Joel’s call just as much as you are.
Not being able to wait any longer, you get closer to your boyfriend and put your head on his shoulder. With your big eyes looking up at him, batting your lashes the way you know makes his cock twitch, you ask,
“Can we fuck, daddy?”
You hear Joel curse under his breath and then groan. It’s clear that he wishes to be here with you.
“It’s a little rude, baby,” Dave chides you, “We haven’t finished talking to our friend, have we?”
You whine, pouting your lips and he turns to you and pecks your nose.
“How about you put your pretty mouth on my cock and I’ll talk to Joel.”
You hear Joel’s half chuckle-half grunt and almost drool at the suggestion and swiftly reply with an ‘ok, daddy.”
Then you give Dave your phone and climb down the bed, getting comfortable between your boyfriend’s legs, your head hovering over his huge bulge.
“We can talk, Joel, but maybe you’d like to watch as well?”
You don’t see your ex but you know his eyes are obsidian with lust right now.
“Fuck, yeah. Show me what our— your little slut is up to.”
Dave presses the reverse camera button and positions it with his big hands so Joel can see you perfectly.
By now you have already freed Dave’s semi hard cock and it twitches as you’re holding it inches from your lips. You smile at the camera and give Joel a wink.
“Show daddies what that mouth’s good for,” Joel encourages you and Dave smirks, “You’re right. Sucking cock is truly her calling.”
Eager to prove them right you wrap your hand around the base of Dave’s cock tighter, open your lips and circle them around the fat head.
Your boyfriend bucks his hips, impatient to slide his whole length into your mouth, but you decide to give them both a show so you lick a wet languid stripe from the base of Dave’s cock to the weeping tip, covering the underside with your warm saliva.
Then you kitten-lick the slit, gathering his clear precum, and a moan escapes your lips at the taste, as you flutter your eyes shut.
“Shit, Dave, ya lucky bastard.”
“Her mouth is fucking heaven, Joel. Baby, show our friend what you can do to daddy’s balls.”
You smile and nod, before lowering your head. Your hand is still holding Dave’s cock but your tongue is now licking at your boyfriend’s balls, and you tilt your head to get a better angle.
“Fuck, babygirl. Doin’ real good,” you hear Joel’s praise, followed by a sound of a zipper.
Your ears immediately perk up and you ask, parting from Dave’s balls for a moment,
“Joel, are you gonna jerk off?”
“‘m afraid so, sweetheart. If Dave doesn’t mind.”
“I don’t, Joel,” Dave says, his half lidded eyes shifting between you, gliding your cheek against his cock, and the man on the screen, “let’s see if this little slut can make two men come. A bit of a challenge for my kitten.”
You purr at his words, feeling your heated pussy ache with need and pressing your thighs together.
“Can I touch myself, daddy?” You ask as impatience paints your words.
“Not yet, baby. Work my balls a little more and maybe I’ll let you come.”
The hope is all you need so you get back to Dave’s heavy balls and start sucking on them, licking the seam and then open your jaw wide to take one in your mouth. As you’re rolling it with your tongue, you hear Joel’s growling and the sound of him fucking his fist.
Dave’s eyes are set on your lips wrapped around his ball but from time to time his gaze flicks to the phone where Joel is pumping his cock and you moan at the fact that the image of your ex, pleasuring himself turns on your boyfriend.
Dave’s dominant, always controls the situation, but you’ve noticed that he loves seeing what you do to other men, how much you affect them. You suspect that’s one of the reasons why he loves such a giant slut like you.
“Ok, kitten, get to the main course,” Dave commands and you part from his ball with a pop so you could give his cock your full attention.
Through the squelching sounds coming through the speaker you hear Joel encouraging you,
“Yeah, deepthroat that cock, babygirl. Still can’t forget how good you could swallow me. Remember, sweetie?”
You slightly nod with your boyfriend's tip already breaching your puffy lips. You unhinge your jaw and slowly take him all in, soon nuzzling his trimmed hair. Dave groans and clenches your hair with a tight grip, gently rolling his hips to help you swallow him.
“That’s my good girl. Take everything I give you. Make daddy proud.”
Your throat contracts around your boyfriend’s cock while the fap-fap-fap noises, coming from the phone, are getting faster.
“Fuck, Dave, are we gonna come at the same time?”
Dave chuckles as his dark eyes almost close with pleasure.
“Yeah, I’m gonna feed it to her soon. Get ready.”
“Let’s do it, man,” Joel almost moans.
“You too, kitten. Play with your little pussy. Bet it’s so messy right now.”
You take Dave’s cock out of your mouth and croak, “Thank you, daddy.”
To give them both the best view, you lift your ass in the air, getting on your knees, and the bottom of your nightie slides down to your waist. Now Dave and Joel can see your naked ass as a background of the blowie. Your hand slithers to your pussy and your fingers dip between your folds. Dave’s right — you’re dripping like a faucet.
You easily insert two fingers into your hole as your mouth swallows Dave’s cock again. You start plunging your digits in and out of your warm cunt, slightly rolling your hips while your head bobs as you’re massaging Dave’s manhood.
The groans of your boyfriend and your ex fill the room, mixing with your muffled moans and whimpers.
Dave’s leaking a lot into your eager mouth and you know he’s close.
“Fuck, if I was there with ya, we’d fuck all your holes, babygirl,” Joel grunts, his teeth clenched, as he’s probably trying not to bust his load just yet.
“Would you take her ass or her pussy, Joel?” Dave asks and your cunt clenches around your own fingers.
“You’d share her with me like that?” Joel asks.
“I’m a generous host, Joel. You can choose.”
“I’d fuck her pussy, pal. I miss it more than anything. She’s sloppy all the fucking time. Loved her sweet cunt.”
“‘k, I’d be fine with the ass. I work her open fast now. She sometimes wears a plug. Pretty little toy. We’ll show you one day.”
“Be happy to see it.”
Your ex and your boyfriend’s discussion about fucking your holes like you’re their mindless fuck toy is the final drop in a full glass of your pleasure and you overflow with ecstasy as your pussy spills squirt all over your hand, between your thighs and on the bed under you while you’re moaning loudly around Dave’s cock.
The vibrations of your throat and your euphoric expression makes him explode too and he satisfies your thirst, spurting his cum down your throat. Dave gives you so much, you almost choke on his thick load but swallow it swiftly again and again.
“Fuck yeah, babygirl, drink it up,” Joel groans, probably seeing the creamy seed, seeping out of the corners of your lips, and makes a loud grunt, the sound so familiar and dear to you.
You know he’s coming.
The noises from the speaker get wetter and you regret not being able to taste your ex too.
When you take everything Dave gives you, you pull your mouth away from his cock and rest your head on his hairy thigh, catching your breath and licking your puffy lips.
“You did it, kitten. You made us both come. And at the same time,” Dave praises you, gently patting your head, and you purr, closing your eyes with satisfaction. Your body is pleasantly tingling after a great orgasm.
“Can I talk to her, Dave?” you hear Joel’s tired voice and lift your head up.
“Of course,” Dave turns the screen to you and you see your ex’s face on the screen, cheeks redder than before, his eyes hazy. He smiles at you warmly and rasps,
“Thank you, babygirl. I enjoyed the show. Now I need another shower,” he laughs and you and Dave both follow.
“Ok, Joel, was good talking to you. Among other things,” Dave says, turning the phone back at him, “We should meet. We have a lot to discuss. And share.”
“Yeah, Dave. Any time.”
The promise of them both fucking you makes your pussy tingle again and you bite your lip, already daydreaming about it.
Dave hangs up and throws your phone on the bed.
“I’m proud of you, kitten. You did great. Now go get your prize and sit on daddy’s face. Let me clean this messy pussy.”
You almost squeal with excitement, immediately following his order.
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bruhlpng · 6 months
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Pedro Pascal in The Equalizer 2 (2018)
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punkshort · 23 days
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Cuts Deep
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Pairing: Dave York x f!reader
Summary: Dave shows up at your apartment in the middle of the night again, but for a different reason.
Warnings: language, descriptions of wounds/injuries/blood, smut (18+ MDNI), oral (m!receiving), little glimpse of soft!dave
WC: 2.6K
Collection Masterlist
You lost count how many times he had come to you in the middle of the night, but after the fourth or fifth time you began to recognize a pattern. It was always after he did... whatever it was that he did under the cover of night. There was a week where you thought he might be a vigilante crime fighter, then you realized you were watching too many movies and shut the television off.
You didn't dare ask him what he did. He wouldn't tell you, anyway, but you were afraid if you even questioned it, he might stop coming to see you.
And when he did come see you, it was always the same. It was always middle of the night. He always wore all black. And he always broke in and sat at the foot of your bed until you awoke. Or sensed his presence. Whatever you wanted to call it.
But that night was different.
You woke with a start when you heard a loud pounding on your front door. A closed fist slamming against the weak wood, rattling the chain on the other side that was left dangling, as always.
Stumbling out of bed, you rubbed your eyes while you made your way to your front door.
"Who the fuck is it?" you seethed, then your eyes widened when you peered through the peephole to find Dave on the other side. His hoodie was tossed over one shoulder and his arm was braced against your doorframe as he clutched his side with a gloved hand.
"Oh, my god," you breathed as you fumbled with the lock. You swung the door open and hurried him inside, glancing quickly down the hallway to make sure nobody saw, then locked the door behind him.
"What happened?" you exclaimed, hands beginning to shake when you saw his blood seeping through the thermal shirt he was wearing.
"You got a first aid kit?" he growled, cheeks puffing as he tried his best to stifle his pain.
"Y-yeah, uh," you swiveled around and grabbed a kitchen towel. You shooed his hand away from his side and pressed the towel there instead. "Bathroom," you instructed him. He nodded and followed you down the hall, then collapsed with a groan on the closed toilet seat.
He held the towel while you scrambled in your tiny linen closet for your first aid kit. It had all the essentials, but you had a feeling it wouldn't be enough for whatever was hiding under his shirt, so you tucked a few extra towels under your arm along with some large pieces of gauze and medical tape from the time you used to ride your bike to work and you flew over the handlebars, effectively ending that means of transportation for you permenantly.
Popping open the kit, you rummaged around for scissors, antiseptic, and whatever else you thought you might need within arms reach.
"Okay, are you ready? I'll need to take off your shirt."
He scowled at you and you rolled your eyes. Dave had a habit of keeping your sexual encounters as transactional and impersonal as possible, and that included him remaining fully clothed.
"I can cut it off, if you like," you offered, but he shook his head. Gingerly, he took off his gloves and raised his arm, hiding his pain while he struggled to remove the wrecked fabric. You immediately stepped forward to help, pulling at the wrist of his sleeve, then the other, and then carefully tugging it over his head. You balled it up and threw it in your tub to deal with later before turning back to him.
Even covered in blood and grime, he was beautiful. Your eyes briefly roamed over the sharp planes of his chest, strong and toned, then down his thick arms all the way to his softer belly. You had to turn away so you could hide your smile, tickled by the fact that he was actually mortal and didn't have a six pack.
After you washed your hands, you collected some gauze doused in antiseptic and knelt down in front of him so you could get a better look.
"I'm not a doctor," you said when you saw the deep gash along his ribs.
"I'm aware."
"No, what I'm saying is maybe you need to see one. This looks pretty nasty."
He grunted and shook his head. "Just clean it up and I got some glue you can squeeze on when you're done, it'll seal right up."
He leaned to his side and pulled out a tiny disposable plastic bottle filled with a clear liquid, then handed it to you. "Tear off the top and just squeeze," he explained. You stared at it in your palm, your brain still struggling to catch up with what was happening before putting it down on the counter next to you.
"Alright," you said hesitantly, then nudged his elbow so he would lift his arm. You did your best to be gentle as you dabbed at the cut but you heard his breath hitch each time you pressed down on the wound. Your eyes flicked up to his but he was staring at the wall behind you, his jaw flexing and his nostrils flaring. "Are you okay?"
"Fine, just hurry up," he snapped. You rolled your eyes again and tossed the pink gauze into your wastebasket before picking up the glue and twisting off the top.
"Is this going to hurt?" you asked him. He swallowed and nodded.
"Once it dries."
"When does it start to dry?"
"About twenty seconds after you put it on."
You bit your lip, looking back and forth between the glue and his seeping wound, then shifted your weight before leaning forward. You left one hand on his thigh for support while you hovered the glue over his cut.
"Just be quick," he said softly, almost pleading. You nodded and focused as hard as you could on your task, squeezing the tube and smearing the glue around with the tip of the bottle to make sure the entire cut was covered. And sure enough, right when you sat back on your heels to throw out the bottle, he groaned loudly and grabbed frantically at your towel bar.
"Fuck!" he seethed, his eyes squeezing shut as he struggled to breathe evenly through the pain.
"Shit! What do I do?" you asked, your hands hovering in the air around him. He shook his head and exhaled sharp little bursts of air through his pursed lips until his eyes finally reopened and he dragged in a deep breath through his nose.
"Fuck," he said again when he sagged against the back of the toilet, chest heaving. You grabbed his arm just as it fell from the towel bar and fanned some air along the gash, trying to help it dry so his skin wouldn't stick. You didn't realize it, but he was watching you carefully with a small smirk, eyes scanning up and down your body. He felt his cock spring to life when he finally realized you were on your knees, seated between his wide spread legs in just a thin sleep shirt. He recognized it. In fact, he had fucked you in the shirt before. The memory just sent more blood rushing between his legs.
"Okay, I think it's dry. I should probably put a bandage over it, right?" you asked, completely unaware of his erection pressed against his leg for maybe the first time since you started your little tryst.
"Yeah," he said, voice coming out a little more gravelly than he intended. He cleared his throat. "Put some gauze over it with some medical tape. It'll keep it clean til I can get home."
You nodded and began to rip into your package of gauze, picking out a few pieces to layer on top of one another before gently laying it over his cut. Your eyes, which no longer looked filled with fear, found his and he felt his stomach flip.
"Can you hold it here so I can get the tape?"
He nodded, his arm automatically dropping to hold the gauze against him with two fingers while you began to cut pieces of medical tape. After you had secured the bandage, he let his hand fall to his thighs, just inches away from where his cock was straining against his black jeans.
With a heavy sigh, you glanced over your shoulder at his mangled shirt. "I could put it in the wash for you. I don't think I have anything that'll fit you."
Dave shook his head. "I'll just wear my sweatshirt."
You turned back to face him, your gaze scanning him for any further injury before you braced yourself on his knees so you could stand.
"I have some ibuprofen-"
His hands shot out to grab your wrists and you paused, your body arched awkwardly halfway between kneeling and standing.
"I like the way you look down there."
You blinked rapidly for a moment and then he saw that familiar flash of desire in your eyes before you slowly eased back down.
"Are you saying you have something else you need my help with, Mr. York?"
His eyes lit up, pain temporarily forgotten as you slid your hand up his thigh.
"Don't tease me, I've had a shit fuckin' day," he scolded while fighting back the smile that threatened to spill across his face. He was growing very fond of this little game with you.
You chuckled, fingers pinching around his zipper and pulling down. "Really? Couldn't tell."
A mission that almost went sideways was a rarity for Dave York, but when it happened he had a tendency to dwell on it for far too long. He simply couldn't let it go until he figured out exactly where he went wrong and how he could avoid it in the future. Sometimes it took days or even weeks to get his mind off a mistake, but the moment you took him inside your warm mouth, all the stress melted away and his mind went blank.
"Shit, that's it," he whispered, watching in a daze as your lips wrapped perfectly around his cock. "Look so pretty like that. Yeah, keep going, little more," he urged, the compliment causing a gush of arousal at your center as you took him further into your mouth.
Before Dave, you didn't really enjoy giving oral sex. Your past partners were either too quiet or didn't reciprocate or, in one case, asked for it way too much. But not Dave. Much to your surprise, he always expressed his appreciation and was far more vocal than you expected, two things that turned you on and made you want to do it even more.
His fingers weaved through your hair and he hissed when he nudged the back of your throat. His hips lifted almost involuntarily, causing you to gag and tears to fill your eyes, but you quickly recovered.
Dave's breathing grew ragged and he fought like hell to ignore the pain in his side with every deep breath he took. He watched, transfixed, as you worked him up and down. Slowly at first, then with more speed. Your fist gripped him at the base, moving in rhythm with your mouth while you moaned around his cock, like you were enjoying it more than he was.
"Christ," he groaned, your tongue swirling around his length every time he sunk back inside your mouth. "Feels so good, baby," he rasped, letting his eyes slide shut and his head tip back, knocking lightly against the wall. Baby. God, you loved hearing that. It only made you work even harder.
You relaxed your jaw and took him as deep as you could without gagging. His grip on your hair tightened and relaxed with each pulse of his cock on your tongue. You dared to glance up at him and the sight took your breath away. He was still shirtless with his chest heaving and covered in a thin sheen of sweat and blood, chin tilted towards the ceiling in ecstasy, and it had you squeezing your thighs together to quell the ache between your legs. You noticed some bright blue bruises beginning to form across his torso and you had to fight the urge to kiss each one.
You released him with a gasp, dragging air deep into your lungs while your fist continued to glide up and down his shaft. You were just giving your jaw a little break but then his head tilted forward and he gazed down at you, lips parted for air and eyes wild.
And then he said something that had you melting.
"Please, I'm so close," he whispered, hand pressing gently against the back of your head. "Please, baby, please."
Please. Please, please, please. You weren't sure you'd ever heard him sound so soft and you certainly never heard him say that word.
Immediately, you slipped him past your lips, no matter how the muscles in your jaw screamed for relief. He sighed and you felt him relax as he went back to watching you work with renewed gusto.
"Such a good girl," he murmured, noticing right away how the praise affected you. You moaned and your eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the taste of him leaking onto your tongue. "You like this, huh? Like being on your knees for a killer?"
A shock of arousal hit you and you began to work even faster. It was the first shred of truth he shared with you. Even if you already assumed he killed people, it was different hearing the confession coming from him.
You hollowed out your cheeks and twisted your wrist, your neck muscles now aching from the effort but it was worth it when you heard his breath stutter and his soft little groans that filled the air.
"Oh, fuck," he moaned, hips lifting again, but this time you were ready for it. Your name on his lips sounded like a song when he came, deep grunts pairing with each burst of his seed across your tongue until he visibly relaxed and sagged backwards, chest and stomach rising and falling so fast that he felt lightheaded. Or maybe it was the blood loss.
You swallowed his salty release and sat back with a sharp gasp. You caught your breath against your tub, your eyes closed for a moment while you both tried to get your bearings.
When you reopened them, a jolt of fear shot through you. Dave was leaning against your vanity, eyes closed and looking pale. You scrambled to your feet and hooked your arms under his to help him stand.
"C'mon, you should lay down."
He nodded weakly and allowed you to lead him to your bed, where he collapsed and closed his eyes again. You stood next to your bed, biting your nail and looking around nervously. Was he okay? Should you call an ambulance? No, he wouldn't want that. A man like him must have some secret doctor he calls who doesn't ask questions. At least, that's what you'd seen on television.
"I'm fine," he mumbled, sensing your worry. "Just gotta... just need a minute."
"Okay," you said softly, then turned on your heel to head to your kitchen. You got him a bottle of water and made sure to tuck it into his side so he could find it, then slid into bed next to him.
You watched him for about an hour, staring at his bare chest steadily rising and falling and listening to his little snores. Once you decided he probably wasn't going to die, you let yourself drift off to sleep.
And in true Dave fashion, when your alarm woke you the next morning, he was already gone, along with the bottle of water.
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